#hotd x you

[gtgbabie0]

-Aegon Targaryen x Barmaid!Reader

{Aegon, once again, seeks refuge within the safety of your bedroom…}

Enjoy lovelies 💕

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊

Your bedroom was comforting. The low light from the candles cast warm shadows against the walls, and the warmth of the fireplace spread through the tiny, rundown room. It was an escape from the brothel in which you live above, an escape from the noise and drunken guards who were a little too rowdy tonight for your liking.

Seems the Prince also felt the same because when you walked into your room he was there, lying face down against the cushioned divan snoring ever so softly without a care in the world.

His white and choppy hair splayed messily over the pillow, his lips stained red from whatever cheap wine he had indulged himself in tonight.

It doesn’t surprise you nearly enough as it should, to see him here, a Prince, within the calmness of your own room sleeping and drunk no less.

You try to stay as quiet as possible, moving around the room on steady feet whilst you clean up the mess he had caused by stumbling into your room haphazardly.

But your attempts are useless when the sound of his hoarse voice breaks through the air, “Good… you’re back.” He pushes himself to sit up with a groan, his eyes heavy with a deep sorrow that he’s clearly trying to drink away.

The audacity, the way he thinks he can just barge in here. It frustrates you and rightfully so. “What have I told you about this… look at the mess you’ve made.” You huff with narrowed eyes as you pick up the books he had knocked over.

Aegon stands up with a struggle, his face scrunching up in what you presume is pain. “Where were you?” He completely ignores your complaints with a heavy sigh. His words are all slurred as he leans forward as if trying to spot you out on a lie.

He doesn’t even give you time to respond before he’s talking again through the thick haziness that the wine has caused. “They said you were here… and you weren't, I waited hours for you.” He says, his tone was clearly accusing you of something.

“Not all of us have the privilege to lay around and drink all day Aegon.” You tell him with an anger in your voice that he wasn’t used to, not from you at least.

You watch as his glossy eyes narrow with a turmoil of emotions that he can’t escape from. He’s quick to try and push past you with a dramatic huff. However, he doesn’t make it further than the end of your bed before he’s stumbling slightly with unbalanced footing.

“Seven hells, Aegon… what have you drank?” You mutter as you catch him just barely, an arm wrapping around his torso to help him stand up.

Despite him being completely inebriated he still tenses up at the feeling of your arm around him, keeping him steady. It’s a certain softness that he doesn’t deserve.

“The usual shit… now answer my question, where were you?” He mutters, turning his face towards yours. The smell of wine hits you much stronger now that he’s this close, his breath fanning against your cheek.

With a soft sigh, you cave. Knowing you won’t talk any sense into him whilst he’s like this. You’ve learned from the hard way that he’ll just end up circling back to the same question over and over again.

“I was in the market, I needed to stock up on a few things.” You tell him as he leans further into you for support, his arms circling your waist to try and keep himself upright.

He takes a breath as if he was going to argue with you, but no words follow. Instead, he presses his face into the crook of your neck with a heavy sigh, his fingers fisting the soft fabric of your shirt as he pulls you closer.

Your expression softens and you roll your eyes, your hand soothing his back. This happens a lot more than you care to admit and you can’t help but wonder, at times like this, what went wrong with him?

“You can’t leave… don’t leave me.” The words leave his lips pathetically, so heavy with emotion. His hands tighten, holding your shirt as if he were scared that you might just disappear into thin air.

“I’m not leaving, I won’t.” You tell him, a promise that he won’t believe, because you can guarantee that you’ll have the same conversation with him a couple of days from now.

But your words seem to do the trick for the time being as you feel him smile against your shoulder, pressing his face further into you. “Good, I won’t let you leave anyway.” He says with a certain seriousness in his tone, and in all honesty you wouldn’t put it past him to hunt you down if it came to that. He’s a prince after all, whatever he wants he gets.

You guide him to sit down on your bed, his hands falling to your hips as he collides with the bed with a groan, looking up at you with glazed-over eyes. A warm but strained smile adorns your lips as you rest your hands on either side of his face, his cheeks are warm beneath your palms.

His eyes flutter ever so slightly at the feeling. No one had ever touched him so sweetly, as if he was a piece of art that needed to be revered.

“Lay day… let me get something to eat.” You whisper softly as you guide him to lay against your pillows, his fingers wrapping around your wrist tightly so you don’t slip away from him.

It takes a lot of convincing and patience for you to finally leave your bedroom with the promise of bringing him a small meal. However, by the time you walk back up into the safety of the room he’s passed out on your bed.

His face smushed against your pillow as he curls himself up into a ball, his lips slightly parted. You sigh, placing the metal tray on your bedside table before sitting down next to him. You debate for a moment whether or not you should wake him, deciding it’ll be best to let him sleep off the wine.

With gentle fingers you brush his white hair away, tucking a few strands behind his ear. He could do with a good bath, you think to yourself. You sit there for a while, watching him as he nuzzles into the warmth of your pillow. He will be gone before the sun fully rises, leaving a small bag of coins on your dresser... in thanks?... or maybe as an apology? but for now, you'll enjoy this, the peaceful silence, whilst it lasts.

The candlelight flickers slightly with the breeze that pushes through your room, casting a warm light against his face. In many ways, this room is as much of an escape for him as it is for you.

[fallingintoyourlilaceyes]

Ñuha drakarītsos (dark!Aemond Targaryen x Reader)

synopsis: Aemond attacks Harrenhal and decides he deserves a spoil of war. And he doesn´t take lightly to any objections.

warnings: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, (public) humiliation, non-consensual sex, oral sex (m receiving), penetrative sex, reader getting treated like a toy, angst, no happy end, afab reader

word count: 3.1k

taglist: @hopelesswritergall @urmomsgirlfriend1

(If you want to be tagged for a specific character/fandom or in general let me know in my asks, comments or DMs)

Dividers by @targaryen-dynasty

Adrenaline races through your body as you run through the halls of Harrenhal. Keeping your bare feet moving over the hard stone ground and your heartbeat pounding in your ears. Your loud, huffing breath is the only thing you hear besides it. You don't remember losing your shoes or ripping the skirts of your dress. It does not matter now though. All that matters is getting out of the castle and away from the men invading it or die trying. But you refuse to give up without a fight.

You can count the number of hallways on one hand, when you get caught by a knight and despite your struggles, are forced back to the inner courtyard. There you get pushed towards the other woman from the castle, who had all been rounded up like scared animals. Clinging to one another, shaking and crying hysterically. Your eyes flit over the yard. Knights are pushing around lords and servants, rounding up more women. The screams mixed with the scent of fire entering your nose is disorienting. Your head spins from the cacophony around you and then silently everything goes quiet as he enters the courtyard. That piercing blue eye burns into your body for just a moment before eyeing the rest of his and his men's work. His voice is heard barking orders at his men and then Aemond Targaryen stands before all of you, lips pressed together in a thin line and his hands behind his perfectly straight back.

With a methodical carefulness the prince regards all of you, looking down his nose. After walking the line, he comes back around to stand in front of you.

“You.” He says plainly.

Before you know what exactly he means by that, you get pushed a few steps forward and your clothes are ripped off your body. A gasp goes through the group behind you, the women cowering away to further single you out as Aemond walks towards you.

Inches away from you, he stills. One of his large, rough hands finds it´s way onto your thigh, the thumb sliding over the inside to graze your folds. Instinctively your legs squeeze together tightly, a thick layer of goosebumps spreads over your body, yet while it brought a sardonic smile to his lips, yours are graced by a snarl. His touch wanders upwards, leaving a burning trace in its wake that makes you feel the need to purge. Acidic taste burns its way up your oesophagus, overwhelming you entirely as the burning trails over the curve of your breasts to stop right under your jawline.

He runs a thumb over your lip ring, tracing the curve of your lip before finally releasing your chin.

“Unclean.” He mutters, sounding unimpressed at the dirt and ash that had accumulated on your skin. 

The smirk returns to his face as he reaches out and grabs onto your cheek.

He leans in close, his warm breath against your skin as he whispers. “You´re going to make a perfect little whore for me.”

The only answer he gets is a growl from deep within your body.

A soldier gets called over to wrap his cape over your shoulder. It is wet with drying blood and smells of the fires that had been set all around the castle, leaving you uncomfortable. Though it gives a sense of modesty.

The thought of which goes flying as soon as Aemond wraps an arm around your waist, to without much decorum, pick you up over his shoulder. To no avail you kick your legs and hit the back of the prince’s armour, which only gets regarded with a tightening of his grip.

Somehow, he manages to get you on top of Vhagar, trapping you between his arms. “Now. Are you going to behave yourself?” He asks firmly but doesn't wait for an answer as he commands Vhagar to take flight.

He doesn´t need to. It was more of an order than a question really. It is not like you could do much anyway without falling off the massive dragon and breaking your neck if you are lucky.

“Let me go!” You break your silence against him once you are far away enough from the castle for the screams on the ground to fall silent.

“Or mayhap you could give yourself to me right here.” He muses aloud.

“I will never give myself to you willingly.” You spit out the bitter tasting words. “And if you truly believe there to be even the slightest chance of it, you must be a bigger fool than the usurper himself.”

Aemond smiles coldly at your defiant words, enjoying the fact that you were unable to fully submit to him. He leans forward and bites down hard enough on your neck to break the skin where his teeth marked your flesh. It stings horribly, yet he seemed to find pleasure in your pain. 

“And yet here you are, unable to do anything but sit in my lap and take whatever I choose to give you.” He purred softly, running his fingers over your hair gently before suddenly yanking it back harshly in a makeshift ponytail, causing tears to spring to your eyes.

The sharp pain running through your scalp lets up only moments after, yet as Aemond lets up on your throbbing tresses, he immediately begins pinching at your breasts through the fabric that hangs around your shoulders still.

“Perhaps I should break more than just your will?” He asked with a sinister grin, reaching between your thighs to pinch at them as well.

The sensation makes you jump in the dragon's saddle, only saved from falling by his arms around you and holding onto the next best thing you can find, which luckily is the pommel.

Your heart beats wildly out of your chest and while the wind howls in your ears, carrying over a loud amused laugh from behind your back.

By the time you reach the capital and the red keep, you feel ready to pass out. Even if in all technicality the way doesn’t take long on dragon back, the prince´s relentless teasing and humiliation has you so on edge that it becomes straining.

When Vhagar finally lands and your feet feel some solid ground under their soles, you are immediately restrained by the wrists behind your back. At first you have half a mind of making a run for it, but one look into Aemond's eye tells you that there wasn't a worse idea in the world right now and that his treatment would become only worse if you followed up on that instinct. So, you comply with him as he nudges you in the back to get you to walk. Stumbling after him as he leads the way towards his chambers, you shiver under the judging glances of passing royalty and servants alike. Hearing their whispers about the now open and thus very revealing cape had you clench your fists.

You want to yell at them, rage, defend yourself, run. Anything to make you feel less helpless, but there is no way you would survive that. So, you keep following Aemond, keeping your thoughts to yourself and focusing on the stone floors. Even if their gazes burnt into your body just like his steel blue eyes had back at Harrenhal, you wouldn't meet their eyes. Doing so would only serve to lose the last smidgeof respect you had preserved for yourself.

Somehow the walk through the castle feels even longer than the flight from Harrenhal. Perhaps because it is linked to the much greater shame of being seen in this position, a shame that feels like boulders weighing you down from your stomach.

Eventually he does open the doors to his private chambers to you though, closing them behind you, before coming up to.

Even the way he moves marks him as a predator. The slow steps, cold, ever calculating eyes, the way his head always moves before his body. Always planning something that no matter how hard you try, you can never seem to keep up with. Smelling and getting off on the fear of his prey.

You notice that you have let yourself get lost in thought, when Aemond pulls the cloak off your shoulders and loudly calls in some maids.

On his order they give you what must be the roughest bath ever. Scrubbing until your skin is reddened, but at least it rides you off the dirt and smell of smoke and dragon.

You are given the grace to be dried off, but one look tells you that you won't be given any new clothes.

Instead, once the women hand you over to Aemond again, with arguably pitying gazes, you find yourself held down on the mattress.

With leather straps your wrists and ankles get bound to the bed posts in an embarrassingly open position. And no matter how hard you pull on them, the restraints do not budge, leaving you in that position for anyone that would walk in the room to see.

“Do not worry. You will learn to love being under my control.” Aemond runs the back of his fingers over your burning cheeks.

An amused chuckle leaves his lungs as you turn your head to snap after the slender digits.

“I will never love being under your control. I surely will not ever love anything associated with you.” You pick up the fight against the smooth leather once more, yet all it does is cut into your skin.

“It's quite amusing to watch someone resist so hard.” The blond remarks. “But ultimately futile.”

He leans in close again, his hot breath brushing against your ear as he whispers. “You will learn to crave my touch as much as you fear it.”

Without a warning he bites down on your earlobe, causing you to cry out in pain and shock.

“Fuck you…” You hiss back at him.

Aemond smirks at your response, his eye gleaming with a mix of dominance and pleasure.

“I think I quite enjoy hearing you say that. Although I would much rather do that to you.” His hand wanders down between your legs again to forcefully push two fingers inside of you.

You cry out, a strangled sound that claws its way out of your lungs, but he does not relent. The sensation of his fingers penetrating is brutal, making you want to scream, but you bite your tongue instead. Under no circumstances would you give Aemond that satisfaction, if you could prevent it. Yet your thighs squeeze together tightly.

The action now elicits a deep growl from his throat, warning you to better behave or he might not be so kind as he is at the moment.

“Now be a good girl and spread your legs for me.” He continues to force his fingers inside of you, tearing at your sensibilities as he watches your face twist in discomfort and humiliation. His violation fuelling your hatred for him only further.

Eventually you have no other choice but to let your legs fall apart.

“That´s a good girl.” Aemond purrs.

His other hands slides up the middle of your body to rest loosely around the base of your neck.

Though he doesn't restrict your breathing yet, it hitches in your throat still. Aemond is unpredictable, even if you were to follow each of his commands.

Then suddenly his fingers leave your aching cunny. The same moment the rustling of clothes fills the room alongside your shallow inhalation.

Even with his hand away from your neck, you only dare to look at the prince from the corner of your eyes. It proves to be enough to take in the sight of pale skin, being exposed until even his breaches fall to the ground.

Aemond grabs your hair to force your lips open in a gasp. Without wasting time, his hardened length gets buried deep in your throat, forcing you to gag and choke as your body desperately tries to adapt to his long cock. Meanwhile Aemond, with a deep groan, began to thrust into you harshly. Tears burn in your eyes and flow over when you see the look of cruel joy in his darkened one. The wet sounds of the blond fucking your throat are beyond lewd and loud enough to be heard by the guards outside the door for sure. At the same time, you can´t stay quiet at the intrusion. Your lungs refuse to be silenced. Even if your cries for help are muffled and masked by the sounds of deep moans, you don´t give up hope one of them would take pity on you.

But nothing happens. The doors stay closed, no one intervenes, the leather cuffs do not budge for you to find a way out yourself. And you are forced to listen to your torturers irregular breathing and expressions of pleasure.

By the time he pulls out of your mouth with a wet pop, Aemond´s cock is soaked with a mix of spit and pre cum, the mixture dribbling down to his stones and wetting your chin from your swollen lips.

However, the assault has not found its end yet.

Aemond climbs in between your legs and lines up his slickened length at your in fear tightened opening. Your fists clench in preparation until the knuckles turn pale. None of it is enough to help against the pain.

Without preparation and with one swift motion, Aemond buries himself inside your core until he bottoms out.

“There we go.” He coos in a taunting tone over your stifled scream. “Feeling nice and full now, are we not, ñuha drakarītsos? My little dragonfire.”

Again, there is no break. He pulled out slowly to give you just the smallest moment to breathe, only to push back in even harsher than before. Every time he thrusts into you, a new scream claws its way out of your lungs, long after they are raw and hurt almost as much as the rest of your body.

Aemond reaches deep inside of you, stretching your still narrowed core, the curve of it making sure to hit all the most sensitive spots inside and out with the assistance of one large hand coming down to rub circles into your pearl to get you to loosen up.

His efforts, to your detriment, are fruitful sooner than late.

Under Aemond´s ministrations your body begins to betray you. Writhing and squirming against your will. The way liquid fire flows through your veins, calling for more and the feel of his stones slapping against your backside with every thrust. At the same time bile rises in your throat from how wrong this is. This shouldn´t make you feel good. None of it.

“Are you finally realising your place in the world, ñuha drakarītsos? Are you ready to give in to me?” Aemond leans down to let his breath tickle your ear.

His hand finds its way around your throat again, warning you not to say the wrong thing.

“Never. I will never bow my head to a levereter like you…” You are cut off by Aemond´s hand squeezing your throat tight enough to cut off any air flow.

Helplessly you gasp for air, as he keeps rutting into you, unflinching. Luckily your torturer shows a smidge of mercy, letting go of your neck just as the black dots begin to dance in your vision begin to grow.

“I will give you another chance. Are you ready to submit to me?” He puts extra emphasis on every word as he spits them out like sone expired food.

“You may ask as often as you wish. My answer will not change.” You shoot back in the same tone, spitting in his face afterwards.

“Oh, I will make you regret this.” The prince growls angrier than you had ever seen anyone. It is not a threat, especially not one made idly. It is a promise that he means to fulfil.

Until long past sunset, Aemond pounds you into the mattress, to a point where you pass overstimulation by a longshot. His seed leaks out of your swollen, numb folds to stain the bed sheets. A red print of his hand signals where he had cut off your breath repeatedly. And still he kept thrusting into you at a brutal pace. Where he still takes the strength from to keep it up you aren´t sure. And if you are honest with yourself, his efforts to make you submit have you unable to coherently think anything at the moment.

Much to Aemond´s delight, he is able to observe your head rolling from side to side weakly, your whole body shaking uncontrollably, the fight entirely gone from your spent muscles. At least for now. You have resorted to begging him to stop on a barely coherent mumbling tone, raw from everything that has happened prior, which is answered by a wolfish smirk as Aemond finally slows his hip movements.

The slower thrusts allow him to lean down one last time to suck purple and blue marks into the sensitive skin around the one his hand had left earlier. Some pitiful, scratchy and quite hurtful whines leave your mouth in response to the prince´s doings. Observing his masterpiece it only takes Aemond a few more pumps to climax one last time.

Through hazy eyes and an even hazier mind you barely register him pulling out. Your senses are overwhelmed by the low light of the moon reflecting off his hair to make it shimmer like liquid silver and the stench of has previously transpired. You are exhausted, eyes barely able to keep open as Aemond gets off the bed to clean his cock and get redressed.

Once he is finished caring for himself, the blond, releases your weakened limbs from the restraints. Then he climbs in bed next to you, though he makes no attempt to share his blanket with you, nor show any care towards your still far-gone mind. Why would he you were naught more than a spoil of war, a toy to be used and thrown away once it became too broken. He seemed to sense however that there was some fight left in you, even if at the moment you did not.

“You better be ready to bow to me on the morrow. Or there will be more punishment. I do not mind either way. It is up to you if I will your dream or your worst nightmare.” Aemond rasps, the tiredness in his voice clearly audible even through the fog that seemed to want to stay in your brain. You don´t remember much of what followed that night. Somehow he ended up with one of his arms laid loosely over your middle. Though the air between the two of you remains as hostile as before.

He knows there is no fondness for him in your heart, no trust. He can’t blame you for it. In all honesty he does not even care much for it. You belonged to him now either way. His little dragonfire.

[valeskafics]

"Unholy Matrimony" - Maegor Targaryen x Niece!Reader

Summary: Your mother gives you a task to carry out on your wedding night. One that you are unsure you can complete.

TW: canon typical incest, profanity, innuendo, she/her pronouns, afab reader, dubcon, maegor is a tw in and of himself, size kink, breeding kink, overstim, creampie, choking, fingering, tummy bulge, rough sex, slight degradation, loss of virginity, threats of violence

Word Count: 3,325 words

Rating: 18+, MDNI

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Fire and Blood/A Song of Ice and Fire characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are never required but are immensely appreciated 🩷

Perhaps it was wrong to gloat at her victory over Rhaenys after her sister perished, but Visenya cared not. Rhaenys’ son was a sickly little creature, who was once again reduced to crawling and wailing like a babe upon hearing of his mother’s death. Maegor had no such troubles. He was a strong, healthy boy, nearly twice as big as Aenys was when he was born. And just over ten years later, she had secured yet another victory over her sister. 

You. Aenys and Alyssa’s first child, Aegon’s first grandchild. A cherubic little creature with plump cheeks, bright eyes, and a cheerful smile, often accompanied by your melodic laughter, one who charmed everyone she met. 

At first, Visenya thought your birth represented a problem. After all, where would Maegor fall in the line of succession now? However, a solution soon presented itself. Though Aegon seemed in favor of the idea, Aenys and Alyssa refused to betroth their infant child to a boy who was quickly coming to be infamous in his own right. Furthermore, while the Faith had allowed for Aegon and his sisters to be wed, it was an exception and not the rule. The High Septon reprimanded the queen for even suggesting such a thing and sooner than late, Maegor’s betrothal to Lady Ceryse Hightower was secured. He was married to her a mere two years later, and you? You were nothing but a distant memory. A babe he and his mother had come to see when she was born.

It was not until his father’s death that he saw you again, when his brother was crowned king. You were a young woman of eight and ten now, with that same bright smile you had as a young girl. Maegor was not a man to be taken in easily by a woman, but he could not help comparing you to his lady wife, resenting the poor Hightower woman more and more every time he saw her. She had not yet given him an heir, something that had made his position vulnerable. After all, Aenys had several children while he had no progeny to speak of. Seeing this change in Maegor, Visenya conspired with some of Aenys’ advisors to have Maegor’s marriage to Lady Ceryse annulled. Though the High Septon was angry at this, there was precious little he could do, since as far as the world was concerned, his young niece was barren.

Chosen to serve as your father’s Hand, Maegor remained in King’s Landing, learning more about you with every passing day. Everywhere you went, you could feel his eyes on you, piercing, staring right through you. And his mother encouraged this. Visenya could sense trouble brewing should her and Rhaenys’ factions not be joined, her sister still haunting her from beyond the grave. So, despite the initial refusal, she began whispering in her nephew’s ear, planting the seeds of doubt about wedding you to your younger brother, Aegon. After all, an uncle and a niece would be far less blasphemous in the eyes of the Faith, would it not? Maegor’s kinship to you was far more removed than that of your little brother.

And so, her plan starts to come together. Subtly, your father pushes you to spend more time with Maegor, having implicit trust in him as his brother and hand. Your mother, however, remains resistant to the idea, thinking a match with your brother to be far more suitable. In the end, however, the king reminds her that it will be your decision whom you wed. And so, he allows you to continue meeting suitors, allowing you to entertain their fancies and amuse yourself.

Maegor, however? He has no intention of allowing this mummer’s farce to continue. He corners you after one such meeting, his hulking frame dwarfing yours as he glared down at you. Not one to cow down to intimidation, you merely raise your chin in defiance and meet his gaze.

“Yes, kepus?” (uncle)

His stare would be enough to chill the heart of even the bravest of men, but you steel yourself. It is not men’s blood that runs through you, but the blood of Old Valyria. The blood of the dragon. And dragons do not fear other dragons.

His voice is low, a threatening rumble as he speaks, “You’re to stop this foolishness and tell your father that you acquiesce to our betrothal.”

If you were anyone else, the way you blatantly laugh in his face would be enough to lop your head off, send it rolling to the ground, but he reigns in his temper as you respond, “Whatever would I do that for? I am quite enjoying having so many vying for my attention.”

He grits his teeth, his jaw clenching with annoyance, “You are mine, lēkianna. I want you to be perfectly clear on that. No man is to touch you save for me. By law, my right as a son of Aegon, I may lay claim to you, little one.” (niece)

You scoff slightly, “I am not some object for you to claim, kepus.”

Maegor grabs your wrist as you move to leave, tugging you back against his chest, holding it tightly, smirking to himself as you try to pull away, “No. You are no object. This much is true. But you are indeed mine. And it is high time you started acting as such.”

His stare is heated as he glares down at you, but you continue to stand your ground. He wonders if this is foolishness or bravery on your part. Perhaps a bit of both. He chuckles almost mockingly when your father calls out for you from the courtyard, pulling you even closer, whispering in your ear.

“Run now, little one. It would be unfortunate if we were to be caught in such a compromising position. One might think your virtue had been sullied with the way you’re looking at me.”

You scowl, rubbing your wrist and shooting him a dirty look before going on your way. You hate to admit it, but there is something about your uncle that intrigues you. It has ever since he returned to King’s Landing. His hungry, greedy gaze on your body makes you feel more desired than you have by any man. And gods… The idea of him just tossing you over his shoulder and dragging you away to claim you… You would never admit it, not even to your closest friends, but the thought has kept you up on many a night, your fingers working you to your climax as you imagine how incredible his would feel in their place.

Tonight is no different, as you lay in your bed. You know he isn’t the best of men, not even close. He is known for his cruelty, his lack of respect for life. And yet you cannot help but want him anyway. You curve your fingers, imagining his long, thick digits being able to reach the places that you cannot, your eyes rolling back as your other hand squeezes at your breasts, hips bucking up as you chase your peak.

And you are well aware that he’s watching you through the crack you’ve left open in the door. You always know when he is watching you. And you do not mind it. You can hear the low grunts he lets out as he tugs at his cock, your mouth watering at the idea of feeling him inside you. You know the man could very likely tear you to shreds if he wanted, but you doubt that. You are quite sure that he wants this as much as you do, if not more. Your teeth sink into your bottom lip as you moan out the one word that has him spilling himself into his palm.

Kepus.

When you give your consent for being betrothed to Maegor the following day, Visenya and your father are both pleased, while your mother grants her blessing with much trepidation. Maegor, however, simply stares you down, that look in his eyes making your stomach twist with anticipation of what awaits you on your wedding night. Your eyes travel downward, toward where you can just see the bulge of his cock against his trousers. When you catch yourself, you avert your gaze, knowing that if your mother or your septa realize what it is that you were staring at, you’ll surely be caned. However, when you meet Maegor’s gaze again, you know he saw.

Maegor liked the fact that you were looking.

Your mother takes you aside on the eve of your wedding, pulling you away from your great aunt who is busy telling you all sorts of things on what it means to be a wife and a queen. At first, you’re confused as to why your mother wishes to speak to you in private, but when she places your grandfather’s dagger in your hand, stolen from your father, you understand. Your eyes go wide as she tells you a man like Maegor will make a most frightful husband. That you must stop this, request him to forego a bedding ceremony and strike while he is asleep your first night together. You look at her, shocked and confused, wondering why she would have you do this.

And she tells you of a dream your grandfather once had. A dream which spoke of a fate almost too terrible to repeat. That Maegor would be the one to bring this about with his cruelty, his bloodlust, his thirst for power. Your grandfather had brushed it off, stating it was not one of his dragon dreams, but your mother was not as easily convinced. Your mother is determined to have you end Maegor’s reign before it begins, her eyes pleading as she places the blade in your hands.

As you stand in the sept, saying the words that are meant to bind you to your uncle forever, you glance at the faces of your family rather than focusing on him. Your father beams proudly, having stated that you are the most beautiful bride the Seven Kingdoms have ever seen. Aegon looks saddened, though you do your best to ignore it, your heart twisting painfully in your chest. Visenya looks rather smug, satisfied at her plan finally having come to fruition. And your mother… She looks weary. Fearful. You finally meet Maegor’s gaze, finding it already locked on you as he wraps his cloak around your shoulders. And then? He pulls you into a hungry kiss, one far too intense for the septon’s taste, who covers his mouth in shock. One of Maegor’s large hands grips your waist, the other twisting in your hair as his mouth devours yours.

He ignores the protests of all those present when he heaves you over his shoulder, landing a firm slap on your rear with his hand making you let out a yelp as he stalks off toward your marriage bed. Reception be damned, it would appear your newlywed husband wishes to have you right now. You probably would not have been surprised if he went so far as to claim you in front of the septon himself, blasphemer that he is. You glance up from your vantage point, dangling over his shoulder, your mother’s worried gaze being the last thing you see before you exit the sept, heading toward the manse you two will live in until such time you take the throne.

The walk feels longer than normal though it is not particularly arduous. The silence is deafening as Maegor weaves his way through the streets, the cheers of the smallfolk ringing in your ears even from so far away, celebrating the royal wedding, the union of the two factions of House Targaryen.

Maegor tosses you onto the bed, rather unceremoniously, chuckling darkly to himself at the annoyed noise you let out when you fall. You glower up at him for a moment, though soon, your look of anger fades into one of surprise, watching as he disrobes in front of you. His body is all muscle, a broad chest and equally broad shoulders, gods even his thighs are muscular. And when he removes the last of his clothing, your eyes flit to his cock. It’s so long and thick that part of you wonders how he will even fit. His length sways slightly as he moves toward you, hard and heavy as he strokes it slowly, evidence of his arousal weeping from the tip.

He moves to the bed, crawling over you, his hands ripping your bodice in half, tossing it aside and leaving you in only your shift. His muscles flex with the action and your breath catches in your throat as he yanks the shift off of you as well. Without even thinking, though you are not ashamed of your body, you move to press your thighs together, feeling exposed and vulnerable, your arm covering your chest. But Maegor grabs both your wrists, pinning them over your head easily with one hand, nudging your thighs apart with his knee.

“Why so shy, little one?” He murmurs, his voice a low rumble in his chest as he stares at you hungrily, gaze fixed on the apex between your thighs, “You were so wanton making those noises as you fucked yourself with my fingers, the other night, crying my name. We both know this is exactly what you want. There is no point in thinking otherwise.”

You watch as he moves to cup your mound with his free hand, his fingers ghosting against your cunny. Your back arches off the bed as he slowly pushes one finger inside you, so long and thick that you can hardly imagine what his cock will feel like. Maegor’s smile is as dark as his gaze as he works his finger inside of you, feeling you squeezing around him, your body squirming but unable to escape his grasp. He adds a second, making you whine as he begins moving the digits faster and faster, the heel of his palm pressed against your pearl as he fucks you with his fingers. And finally, he adds a third, making the stretch almost uncomfortable. You reach your peak, your toes curling as you cry out his name, but Maegor is nowhere near finished. Rather than grant you any reprieve, he moves his fingers even faster, chuckling to himself at the way you moan unintelligibly, the wet squelching sounds coming from you spurring him on.

“Such a tight little cunt you have,” he says, almost mockingly, his thumb pressing against your pearl as he brings you to your peak once more, “But don’t worry, little one. I’ll make it fit.”

His words are equal parts threat and promise as he moves his fingers, curling them inside of you as they brush against that sweet spot that you are never quite able to reach. You feel your third climax approaching, panicking slightly at the way your body heats, the way you feel like you have lost complete control of yourself as he fucks you with his fingers. Maegor towers over you, his form menacing yet so very arousing as you scream his name, reaching your peak yet again, your arousal coming out in spurts against his fingers, leaving the sheets beneath you soaked with the evidence of your climax. You look at him, surprised. You have heard of such an intense peak happening from your ladies in waiting but have never experienced such a thing yourself. And Maegor? He just gives you a smug smirk, grabbing the base of his cock, slapping the tip against your pearl.

He watches as you jerk away slightly, your breasts bouncing as you move, legs trying to close yet again. Maegor lets go of your wrists to shove your knees apart, dragging you closer to him, manhandling you so that your body beneath him, legs spread. He enters you, every inch of his thick, veiny length making you whimper pathetically as he fills you. Maegor lets out a low hiss at how tight you feel around him, how tiny you are as he fills you. He watches as your eyes roll back, your jaw slackening as he buries himself inside you. He hooks your legs around his hips, splitting you open on his cock as he begins to rut against you at a breakneck, almost violent pace.

Your lips twist in a silent scream of pleasure, one of Maegor’s hands holding you in place by your hips while the other squeezes at one of your breasts, so harshly that it has even him moaning as he snarls, “You are going to give me the heir my last wife never could. You were born to be mine, you know that? Born to be my queen, to bear my heirs.” His words barely even register, the feeling of him moving in and out of you, filling you so perfectly, the fat head of his cock hitting your sweet spot with every thrust rendering you speechless. But he lets go of your breast to grab your throat, squeezing hard enough that your vision begins to blur, “Answer me, lēkianna. Say you were made for me.”

“Yes, kepus,” you manage to rasp as he continues pounding into you, “I was made for you.”

Maegor glances downward and sees the way his cock pushes against your stomach, the bulge visible against your skin every time he thrusts. He presses down on it, the sensation making you let out a squeal as he fucks into you even harder, deeper.

“I won’t let you leave this bed until I am certain you’re with child,” he snarls, “So you had best prepare for me to fuck you until this sweet little cunny is sore and you are unable to walk, my seed running down your thighs, because your cunt can’t take anymore, little one.”

With a few more thrusts, you reach your peak, one, two more later, and he spills himself inside you, thick hot white ropes of his spend filling you, the sensation being oddly pleasurable in a way you did not realize was possible. You lay there, doing your best to catch your breath, feeling him crush you against his chest, arms wrapped around you in an embrace that feels almost suffocating.

“Rest for now. When I wake, I will have you once more.”

You wait for him to fall asleep, squirming out of his arms, and reaching for your discarded clothes, or more specifically, the knife that lies in your cloak. Your footsteps are silent, moving to grab the blade, feeling its balance in your hand. It is almost like you were meant to hold it. Your husband lays on his back, the steady rise and fall of his chest lulling you into a sense of security, that he is asleep and does not know what it is that you are plotting.

Still bare as the day you came into this world, you walk toward your husband, moving to straddle his hips, raising your blade above your head, poising to strike. For a moment, a brief, fleeting moment…

You hesitate.

Maegor looks so different asleep. Less like the monster people claim him to be and more like a man. And you find yourself unable to do it. Unable to complete the task your mother gave you. The blade falls from your grip, clattering to the ground. You panic for a moment, but your husband remains asleep, pulling you back into his bear-like grip, holding you close to him.

As slumber slowly begins to claim you, you let out a quiet sigh, and close your eyes.

It is only then that Maegor opens his own, admiring you for a brief moment. His pretty little wife. His queen.

He is quite glad that you chose not to go forward with your mother’s plan. It would have been a shame to have to kill you. He quite likes you, after all.

[targaryen-dynasty]

FORBIDDEN DELIGHTS.

Daemon Targaryen x female!Reader

Sleeping with Daemon had always been wild and exciting. He had always been just a little too rough, straddling that fine line between unbelievably good and almost too much… until he had learned you were carrying his babe.

WARNINGS: SEXUAL CONTENT–MINORS DNI; Implied canon typical incest/Targcest (reader speaks high valyrian), p in v, cock warming, lactation kink, lactating, pregnancy, pregnancy sex

WORDS: 2.4 K

Daemon always had been a generous lover, his ample experience really paying off whenever you two were entangled in the bedcovers, or somewhere else, when the burning desire overcame you both. That was the main reason you were with child just three moons after your bedding ceremony.

Sleeping with Daemon had always been wild and exciting. He had always been just a little too rough, straddling that fine line between unbelievably good and almost too much, until he had learned you were carrying his babe. 

From then on, he took his time with you, always splaying one hand on your stomach and persistent to take you in no other position than on your back with him between your parted legs. 

Sometimes you managed to coax him into allowing you to ride him, but even then his hands always rested on your hips so he could guide your movements and set up the pace. 

Tonight was no different, however, your belly was finally starting to swell, just like your breasts. It was ridiculous how much they had swollen over the short time, quite different from the bodies of other women at court at the same stage of pregnancy as you. You blamed it on them not carrying the offspring of a Targaryen, and on your body, as it felt the need to provide enough milk for the little dragon growing up inside of you, even if it still were a few moons until the birth.  

Lying on your back with Daemon’s silver-blonde mop of hair between your parted legs, you had your head tipped back, eyes glued to the ceiling. He had been lazily lapping at your folds for too long at this point, not noticing that you were not finding much joy in it anymore, given the lack of variation.

As you looked down at him, you saw that his lilac eyes were fixed on you — just not at your face. And when you glanced down at your bosom, you knew why. Your breasts looked so firm and heavy, entirely ready for him.

There were a few droplets of milk oozing out of your nipples, dripping down your darkened areolas. It had happened before, but only very rarely, and never in Daemon’s presence. While you were certain that he loved every part of your body, you knew that your breasts and arse were his favorites. 

The passion and longing in his gaze was enough to send a shiver up your spine, a few more drops of the white liquid dribbling out in sync with your arousal. 

Your hand entangled in his soft tresses, and while that touch seemed to be enough to pull him out of his trance, you gave him no time to react as you used the grip to tug him up to hover over you. 

He didn't speak as he towered over you, but his questioning gaze was enough to have you chuckling softly. “I want to feel you, husband,” you whispered, cupping his cheeks to pull him in for a tender kiss.

Just like the many times before, you wrapped your legs around his waist so you could easily flip him onto his back. You straddled his hips, his erect member nestled between your soaked cunny and his lower stomach. He did not object, which truly surprised you. 

With a few sways of your hips, his cock was coated in the mix of your arousal and his saliva, and you moaned each time the bulbous tip rubbed against your overworked pearl.

Daemon’s hand came up to your hips as you lifted them, gripping the base of his cock to align him with your aching core, eventually sinking down on him. 

The delicious stretch was enough for you both to moan out in unison, a shuddering gasp rocking your body. One of your innate instincts was to cup your swollen belly at the sensation, fingers splayed out to support the burgeoning fullness. Not wasting any time, your husband’s hand joined yours, resting atop of it. 

Daemon looked like he was created by the Seven. Silver hair disheveled and splayed out around his chiseled features, his scars on full display and muscles twitching each time your core clenched around him. 

It was perfectly clear that the Dragon between your legs did not know where to look. His dilated pupils flickering from your face down to where you both were connected, and eventually settled on your bouncing breasts. 

Your body seemed to notice your husband’s unabashed interest in them, because they felt even fuller then before. They were too firm and too heavy, practically begging for attention and relief. Daemon waited for you to move, to enjoy the show he was going to receive, however the fullness of your tits didn’t allow you to. 

And as a quiet observer, your husband noticed your discomfort.

“Nēdenkus bykus riñus, you should have listened to me,” Daemon growled, voice caught by a particularly tight clench of your walls. Feisty little girl. He bent forward, strong arms wrapped around your middle. As your perky nipples pressed against his sturdy chest you hissed, the sensitive buds prodding against his skin. You felt the milk leaking out of you at the close contact, wetting both your chests, “let me–”

“Daor,” you protested, shaking your head to make a point, to which he just sighed in response. No. 

You slowly rocked your hips back and forth, your movements faltering every now and then in response to his closeness and tight grip. His muscles flexed, an indication that it felt good for him but that he just did not like the position and your discomfort that obviously came with it.

“What is it, Y/N?” The annoyance in his voice was audible, and his patience was clearly running thin.

When Daemon’s head tilted upwards and yours bowed forwards, you rested your foreheads against each other, your hips stilling. You had felt bold and confident before and still did, but the thoughts that clouded your mind were too silly for you to speak them aloud. They were indecent. 

The loud slap of Daemon’s hand colliding with your backside and the stinging pain that followed after caused you to yelp, staring down at him with wide eyes. 

“Nyke eptan ao iā másino,” he remarked sternly. I asked you a question. 

You knew you were trapped; there was no escaping him. He affixed his eyes to yours expectantly, pupils dark and blown, waiting for you to answer him. But you figured it was easier to show what was plaguing you, where you needed him. 

Tilting your upper body back slightly, your fingers wiped at the thin wet sheen trailing down the firm curve of your breast. Daemon’s eyes eagerly followed your fingers, a distinct growl rumbling in the depths of his chest at the sight, and he groaned with want as if he had been punched in the gut. 

The tremulous sounds that left your lips at the soft stimulation of the areola were enough to snap the last lingering threads of Daemon’s resolve.

A few more droplets trickled down your flushed skin, and when you reached to clean your fingers with the bedcovers, Daemon was quick to catch your wrist and bring it up to his lips. 

He leaned forward, nuzzling at your fingers to take in the scent of you, before both digits were engulfed by his lips. The taste was sweet and delicate, and better than any Arbor he had tasted before, making him desperate for more.

It wasn’t the first time he had sucked on your fingers, yet, this time, the context was entirely different and purely sinful. You squeezed your thighs together to soothe the burning desire pooling in your belly, and were sharply reminded of him still being inside of you when he bucked his hips up in return. 

But Daemon did not stop at that. His large palm came up to cup the swell of your breast. The pad of his thumb brushed your hardened bud, before he applied a bit of pressure to your flesh to coax more milk out of it. He was mesmerized by the sight. You hissed at the contact, but the sound turned into a moan the second his tongue swirled over your teased nipple, cleaning away the slip of fluid that had escaped.

The staccato of your inhales was the only sign of your approval for him to keep going. 

When his mouth latched around the tight bud to suck, you couldn’t stop your back from arching into him. Your arms wrapped around his neck, bending at the elbow to entangle into the hair on the crown of his head. He was forced to your bosom, you feared that he was close to suffocating. However, you knew that if it was up to him, he’d gladly die that way - with his lips on your tits, suckling on what was solely designated for the babe he had put in your belly. 

Your core melted around his rock hard member, and you squirmed on top of him with newfound vigor, spasming around him with each suck of his mouth. 

As he pulled back from the bud with a lewd pop, a drop of milk resting in the corner of his mouth, he tilted his head to look up at you for you to give him the reassurance that what he did was what you wanted. 

The lack of stimulation caused you to whine, a frown etched onto your features, but when you caught a glimpse of the sight beneath you, you felt a fresh wave of arousal gush out of your core, his lips were swollen and his chiseled features were framed by your full breasts on either side of it.

“Gaomagon jāre, Daemon,” you whined, “ȳdra daor keligon.” Keep going, Daemon. Don’t stop.

Applying a bit of pressure to his head with your elbows, you nudged him forward to encourage him to continue his ministrations, to which he eagerly complied. His hands pressed flat against the narrow planes of your back, nails digging softly into your flesh. 

You couldn't stop yourself from crying out mumbled words of praise at the relief you felt when he resumed, this time taking large gulps, the sounds of his messy slurping filling your ears. Knowing you were providing for your unborn babe was good, but it didn’t compare to the feeling of your husband emptying your full breasts.

With every suckle of his lips, you took in a sharp breath, and when his hand came up to squeeze the slowly sagging flesh of your breast, the pressure in it long gone with the amount of milk he had drank, you gently rocked your way through your climax with him suckling you through it. 

“Yes–,” you cried out, your sentence cut off by a moan, “just-just like that… please,” you begged. You weren't even sure what you were begging for, since he had already given you all you could’ve ever asked for, but the relief and pleasure his mouth and cock granted you fought the ability to form any coherent thoughts.

You were soaking and pliant, your labored breathing drowning out the squelching sounds of your core repeatedly dragging over his thick length to calm the storm that raged within you. You weren't able to see it, but you felt that he was coated in more than one of your juices. Milk dribbled down the corners of his mouth and chin, whereas his stones and the base of his member were coated in your arousal. 

His cock was snugly nestled inside of your warm and wet womanhood, and besides the throbbing and pulsing, it didn't move. It was a welcomed surprise to not have his hips pistoning in and out of you, making it much more bearable to keep him inside of you even after your climax faded. 

The previous firmness of your breast was long gone, and only once the spasming of your core around him had subsided, Daemon dared to pull away from you, “ao sylutegon sīr sȳz.” You taste so good.  

“Pār gaomagon jāre,” you panted the demand, strands of your long hair clinging to your sweaty skin. Then keep going. 

You helped him adjust, nudging him to your other breast. 

You were less vocal this time around and just focused on the sensations that coursed through you, noting what elicited which response from your body. His cock still was buried hard and aching inside of you, and you settled into a slow and steady rhythm with his mouth now working your other breast. 

Not only you were enjoying this. This strange, illicit act fanned so much heat within Daemon, he slowly but surely felt the familiar tingling at the tip of his cock, sending a shudder through his core.

You felt exactly the same, and when he applied just the edge of his teeth to the sensitive areola, another orgasm crashed over your body in an ambush. You chased your pleasure as if in a dream, oblivious to Daemon being close to tipping over the edge, too.

When you keened and shook against him with the force of your peak, Daemon’s body eventually seized, his cock spending in a burst so strong he withdrew from your breast to unleash a guttural groan. 

If it wasn't for you already growing round with his child, you were certain you would’ve been with one after this, his seed filling you up to the brim and leaking out of your spasming hole. 

You were tight and warm around him as he tried to drink every last drop of your milk, and with your nipple growing somewhat sore, it proved to be a challenge to get the Rogue Prince to release the sensitive bud. 

But when he did, he looked up at you with lust-blown eyes, the familiar lilac replaced by black. You licked your lips, eyes flickering between his and his lips, swollen and covered in the last remnants of your milk, begging for your attention. 

Your head bowed down, capturing his lips in a soft kiss, and at the taste of your milk on his tongue, you couldn’t stop the moan from spilling into his mouth. His arms wrapped around your body yet again, pulling you closer against him. And this time, it didn’t feel painful when your breasts were squeezed by his firm chest, causing you to sigh in content. 

“Avy jorrāelan.” I love you. 

[maidragoste]

The Decision

Daemon Targaryen x Velaryon!Reader, minor Harwin Strong x Velaryon!Reader, Rhaenyra Targaryen x Velaryon!Reader

Again another AU with the reader of The Sea Dragon, The Clubfoot and The Green Queen (you don't need to read it to understand this one shot because this story starts LONG BEFORE the canon of that universe).

Summary: When King Viserys announces that he plans to marry you, you make a decision to avoid becoming the king's wife.

Now you can read this bonus!

TW: This is NSFW (if you don't like it you can read only the Rhaenyra and Harwin parts)

I was dying to share this with all of you so I hope you like it!

If you want to read more of this Reader and Daemon, don't hesitate to let me know in the comments or in my inbox 🤭

REBLOGS, comments and likes are always greatly appreciated 🥰🥰💖💖

Disclaimer: English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes. Also this is my first smut so sorry if it's weird to read.

You felt your heart hammering as you waited for the king to make his announcement. Your stomach wouldn't stop spinning and you have no idea how you still hadn't vomited up what you had for breakfast.

With every passing second you have to keep yourself from running out of the council chambers. You couldn't stop looking at your father, a part of you wanted to take his hand and ask him to get you out of here but you didn't trust him anymore. You were in this situation because of him. You always knew that your father is a proud and ambitious man but you never thought that his ambition would be greater than his love for you. If your father really loved you he wouldn't have sent you to the king's chambers. He wouldn't have made you start wearing dresses that showed more skin for your visits with him. Gods, you wanted to hit your father so badly, you wanted to wipe the smile off his face because both he and you knew what Viserys was going to announce. Everyone knew it, you noticed that Otto Hightower was trying to hide his annoyance from everyone, the only one who seemed unaware of the tension in the room was Rhaenyra.

“I have decided to take a new wife,” the king began and you noticed how he and Rhaenyra exchanged a look. You were surprised to see your cousin nod as if she was permitting him to move on. Did Rhaenyra know? Did she approve of this? “I intend to get married,” he continued, this time looking at you and your father. You forced a smile as you dug your nails into your palms, feeling helpless for being in this situation “with Lady Y/N Velaryon before spring.”

Your eyes met Rhaenyra's purple ones. There was none of the love or fun you usually saw. Now she was looking at you with a mixture of pain and fury. The pain in your stomach got worse. Nyra had never looked at you like that. This shouldn't be happening.

It was obvious that she didn't know that her father was planning to marry you. You wanted to scream, you wanted to hug her and tell her that this wasn't what you wanted, that you weren't trying to steal her mother's place, that you would never do anything to hurt her.

"Rhaenyra" the king called her but the princess left the chambers anyway. You couldn't take this anymore so you went after her, ignoring your father's calls.

You followed the princess. You could feel the fabric of your dress sticking together due to perspiration, you didn't know if it was because of your nerves or because you were practically almost running after Rhaenyra. It was uncomfortable but right now you didn't care. You needed to clear things up with her. You couldn't stand that she hated you.

"Nyra" you called when she finally stopped. You two were in the gardens, in front of the heart tree. Where more than once you had Rhaenyra lay with her head in your lap while you sang her any song she wanted. Where you two used to stay out in the sun complaining about the septa's lessons while you combed her hair. This tree has so many good memories and now you fear there will be no more.

"How could you?!" she yelled at you furiously. She couldn't believe how you had been by her side, comforting her, accompanying her in her grief, remembering the stories the both shared with her mother so that later you went behind her back to conquer her father. When her father told her that he needed to take another wife she thought it would be Laena Velaryon. Not from you. Never from you. You were supposed to be hers.

"Please, Nyra, don't hate me" you begged and grabbed her hands desperately, pulling her closer to you "I swear I didn't want this but my father" you shook your head and forced yourself to continue talking trying to ignore the knot in your throat "I'll find a way to fix this, I promise" you kissed her hands.

The princess studied you for a few minutes. She needed to check that you weren't faking this just to avoid her anger. Your eyes seemed to be glazed over from the tears you were holding back and your hands clung to her desperately.

“I believe you,” she finally said and you sighed in relief.

"Thank you", you said with a shaking voice

This time it was Rhaenyra who kissed your hands and rested her forehead against yours. You closed your eyes feeling at peace for a moment knowing that she didn't hate you.

"I won't marry your father, Nyra. I promise."

If it weren't for the fact that she was now the heir to the throne, Rhaenyra would have told you that you would run away with her, that the two of you would go together on your dragons and travel the world together, and that you didn't need a husband, that if you wanted her, she would take you as a wife. But now she had obligations, she couldn't abandon everything for you even if her heart screamed for her to do so.

After clearing things up with Rhaenyra you went to your chambers. Of course, your father was waiting for you, he scolded you for your abrupt departure but he left you alone once you told him that you had managed to calm the princess's annoyance. Being alone you decided to put your plan into action, first you took a bath with the purpose of relaxing and getting rid of any trace of nerves you had before, then you put on one of your simplest dresses and placed a hooded cape on top to hide your hair. You were leaving the castle and you didn't need anyone to follow you.

You successfully slipped away and headed out into the streets in search of Harwin. You knew that today he had to stand guard on the streets of Flea Bottom. A girl in your position shouldn't be here but you didn't care. You needed to talk to him as soon as possible.

“Harwin” you called him when you finally found him.

“Lady Velaryon, you should not be here,” said the guard, gently hugging you by the shoulders and taking you to a corner further away from the people.

It felt bad to hear him call you in such a formal way when for weeks he had been calling you by your name or “sunshine”, the nickname he had given you. You remember like it was yesterday when you kissed him for the first time after he explained to you that the reason he called you that was because you brightened his days every time he saw you.

This sudden formality was like a slap in the face and he confirmed what you already feared.

“You know,” you declared sadly.

“My father told me,” he admitted, releasing you. You weren't surprised since Lyonel is on the council and had been present at this morning's meeting. You suspected that Harwin's father thought it would be best for him to find out from him rather than from someone else since you were sure that Lord Strong and your parents knew about the meetings between you and Harwin. You thought it was no secret that he was courting you, but apparently, not everyone knew because otherwise, Viserys would not have chosen you as his wife. Or maybe he knew but didn't care.

“This doesn't have to change what's between us,” you said as you stood on tiptoe to have his face closer to yours. “I don't want to marry the king. I want you” you whispered against his lips but without touching them. Harwin had to control himself from closing the small distance between you and kissing you. “Make me your wife,” you asked before capturing his lips with yours.

You froze when Harwin walked away from you.

“I can't,” he whispered and closed his eyes to avoid seeing the disappointment on your face.

“I thought you loved me” In your voice there was more anger than sadness but your body language was different, you found yourself hugging yourself trying to comfort yourself. You were disappointed.

“I do,” he stated firmly, opening his eyes so you could see that he spoke sincerely. “I love you. If it were any other man he would fight for you but…”

His silence told you everything. He loved you but it's not enough to face the king.

“You're a coward,” you spat and left the way you came.

You didn't really think Harwin was a coward but you were hurt by his rejection. You felt stupid to believe that whatever Harwin felt for you would be bigger than any coherent thought but you can't blame him after all any intelligent person would be afraid to go against the king's wishes and steal his fiancée…

But all was not lost, you knew someone well who was not afraid of Viserys and could help you. It was a desperate move and your parents would think you were an idiot for this but you refuse to be the king's wife. You had seen how as the years went by and with each pregnancy, Queen Aemma deteriorated. You didn't want the same thing.

You wrote to Daemon. You told him that the king wanted to marry you but that you were seeking to avoid this marriage and that you needed his help. You waited anxiously for his response while you had to feign excitement every time someone talked about your wedding preparations. Luckily it didn't take that long for a crow to arrive with the rogue prince's answer. There were no reassuring words in his letter, the only thing the scroll said was "Come to Dragonstone."

And that's what you did. Nobody suspected when the next day you went on the back of your dragon since everyone knew that there was not a day in which you did not disappear for a couple of hours to go flying with Nightwing.

"My prince, Lady Y/N Velaryon!" The guard announced your arrival before letting you enter the chambers where the prince was staying.

Daemon, who had seen you approach with Nightwing from the window, had his back turned but turned to look at you. He hasn't seen you in months. Your hair was longer and you seemed to have changed the way you dressed. The blue dress you were wearing seemed to have more cleavage, it wasn't anything scandalous enough for the court to talk about but it did draw attention.

"It's good to see you, Y/n" Daemon stated making you smile. You were sure that this was the first sincere smile you had given in days.

You waited for the guard to leave. Once you heard the sound of the door closing, you began to walk towards the prince without haste, trying to show as much confidence as possible. Normally you wouldn't be nervous around Daemon but you hadn't seen him in months and he was the only person who could help you. You didn't want to ruin this.

*I'm wondering the same. These months without you were boring "You weren't lying or trying to sugarcoat it to achieve your goal, it was simply the truth. Every time he leaves court you wish for his return.

"You still didn't come after me" Daemon held back his smile when he saw the surprise in your eyes.

He liked seeing that look in your eyes. Every time he brings you something new from his travels, every time he teaches you a new move in the training yard, every time he asks you for his favor in tournaments. How he had missed seeing her. He wouldn't tell you but he had missed you these past few months. So imagine his fury when after so long the first news he receives from you is that his brother plans to marry you. You are too much of a woman for Viserys. Her brother wouldn't know what to do with you. You would spend the rest of your life bored. Daemon couldn't allow it.

"I didn't know you wanted that," you said, snapping him out of his thoughts.

"I invited you to go with me on my next trip, didn't I?"

Before Queen Aemma's death, when you helped Daemon put on his armor for the tournament you complained about the lengthening of his travels. The prince's response was to invite you to go with him next time. You were so excited to accompany him on his trips that you didn't wait for the tournament to end to ask your parents for permission. But then Aemma died and you didn't dare leave Rhaenyra.

You laughed. “That wasn't a trip, Daemon. Viserys exiled you.”

"And now he will exile you" he mocked, making you irritated but you quickly forgot about your irritation when Daemon placed his hands on your waist and pulled you closer to him, leaving your bodies pressed together. You should be uncomfortable with this but you're not. "You understand? Right? You know what you were asking for when you asked me for help?" He asked, studying your reaction. He needed to see that you really understood what you were about to do. This was your time to repent. But he didn't find uncertainty in your eyes if not desire, you looked at him with pure desire.

"I know," you responded, trying to ignore the flutter of emotion you felt at the intensity of the prince's gaze. You should be against doing this after all your reputation would be ruined but deep down you always wanted to have even a little bit of Daemon.

In reality, there was always a tension between the two of you. More than once you two ended your fights in the yard more irritated than you were before you started because after so much friction, touching, and sweat you both wanted to do something else that you couldn't. You didn't want to be the other woman and Daemon for once wanted to make things right with you. He hoped that one day Viserys would annul his marriage to Rhea Royce to take you as his wife. That day never came but that didn't matter anymore.

"You will take me as your second wife" While you spoke your eyes couldn't help but stop a couple of times on his lips.

Daemon tilted his head a little and gently brushed aside a strand of hair to whisper in your ear "I'll do it. If you want that" you shivered as you suddenly felt his breath on your neck. It doesn't take long for you to feel his warm lips against your skin. You unconsciously stretched your neck, leaving him free to continue spreading more kisses. With each kiss, you felt your body warmer. You can't help but wonder how his lips will feel just as good on another part of your body. “People will talk about us,” he warned, snapping you out of your fantasy.

You knew what Daemon was referring to, not only would it be a scandal if the king's fiancée married another but also if that other is Daemon Targaryen, the king's brother, and an already married man. People who don't understand his family's customs won't think your marriage is legitimate, and if you were to have children with him people would probably think of them as bastards. Also, the court could compare your marriage to one of Maegor Targaryen's many marriages. The kingdom would talk a lot about you two, even your family's name and respect could be damaged by this. Your father might never want to speak to you again in your life and your mother would be disappointed in you. You had thought about all this at night before receiving the prince's response. And yet you were determined to go ahead with this.

“Are you worried that the court will call you Second Maegor? Because I'm sorry to inform you but they already call you that” you said, managing to make Daemon laugh a little. You smiled when you heard him but your smile was soon replaced by a gasp as you felt his teeth biting into your neck.

“A wife shouldn't make fun of her husband,” he said making you roll your eyes, knowing that he wasn't serious and just wanted to mess with you. “If you marry me, this will not be just a marriage in name.”

You weren't an idiot. It wasn't enough for you to just marry Daemon. Viserys might still want to annul the marriage if he saw that you were a virgin but if it was known that Daemon had already had you then the council would tell the king that he should take another wife.

You walked away from him. “Are you afraid of taking me as your wife? You keep walking around instead of ordering them to start preparing everything for the ceremony. “The prince could see the challenge in his eyes and he loved it.” I'm not a little girl, Daemon. "I know what I'm getting into by marrying you."

And those words were enough for Daemon to finally join his lips with yours. There was nothing soft about his kiss, not like Harwin's. This kiss was hungry, you felt like he was devouring your mouth but you weren't far behind either, taking him by the neck, pulling him closer to you. It seemed as if neither of you two could get enough of the other. Finally giving free rein to the desire the both felt for a long time. You felt his hands trying to untie the back of your dress so you walked away from him with heavy breathing.

“Ah, ah, ah,” you hummed, now placing your hands on his chest, hoping to keep a little more distance. “You can't have me until we're married,” you declared, looking at him mischievously.

“You're so fucking annoying” Daemon complained and tried to kiss you again but you pulled your face away with a teasing smile. "Good. But then you won't leave the room until I'm done with you,” he warned you and he gave you a little squeeze on your waist before leaving, determined to prepare everything in the shortest possible time.

Daemon thinks he'll never get tired of this. See how you move on his cock, how focused you look with every jump you take in search of your pleasure, how you open your mouth and let those sinful sounds escape when you finally find your sweet spot, and above all the feeling of your cunt squeezing his cock.

Hearing Daemon's groan overwhelms you. It overwhelms you because, for the first time, you realize that you have power over him. It's too much to hear him say your name like you're a god while you're riding him. See how hungry he is for you, how he can't seem to get enough of you, how he can't go a minute without his mouth on you, without biting or sucking on your neck, without having his hands touching you. By now your body was covered in hickeys, marks, and bruises leaving the trace of your crime on display. You're sure that tomorrow when the maids came to help you dress they would be horrified to see the mark of Daemon's palms on your thighs after he held you for what seemed like hours while he devoured your cunt over and over again.

Your husband noticed that you were starting to get tired but you still didn't want to stop, not when you were already so close to cumming again but you were too proud to ask him for help.

“Let me take care of it,” he said, stopping to suck on one of your nipples.

He knows how stubborn you are so he didn't even give you a chance to refuse when he lifted you off his cock. You groan against his neck as he pushes you down onto his cock again. He begins to move you up and down as if you weighed nothing.

"Faster" you demanded with heavy breathing, feeling dissatisfied with the pace of his movements.

Daemon doesn't hesitate to follow your orders and makes you bounce faster. His grunts and moans do nothing but send heat to your core. You feel your legs tremble at the speed and depth of his thrusts. You want to have your share and leave your marks on your husband too but you can't focus as much time on biting or sucking on his neck when he's fucking you so good. You sob when you finally feel the knot in your stomach release and you cum on his cock.

Suddenly one of his hands leaves your waist and pulls your hair, stealing a gasp from you, making you stop hiding your face in his neck and thus trap your mouth again in a messy kiss.

"You take me so well," Daemon gasped against your lips, feeling your warm cunt not stop squeezing his cock.

The sound of skin slapping only increases the temperature of the room. Like the groans and gasps. Neither Daemon nor you were trying to be quiet, it was more like you were both competing to see who could make the other louder. You should be embarrassed and try to be quieter, that's what a good lady would do but you couldn't care less what people thought, not when you felt so good. And while you felt how Daemon filled your cunt with his seed a petty part of you couldn't help but think that you were hoping that this would reach Viserys' ears, that one of the servants would write to the king to inform him of the spectacle you and Daemon were putting on so that Viserys wouldn't want to have anything more to do with you.

Taglist: @immyowndefender @tojigirl @paninisstuff @serving-targaryen-realness @aphroditesblunt @thedazzlingburglar @technicallyannoyingninja

Taglist for all my House of the Dragon works

@chaotic-fangirl-blog @venus-flytrap3 @ajordan2020 @iloveallmyboys @sweethoneyblossom1 @fudge13 @crystal-faith @tita004 @ichanelvxgue @snowprincesa1 @joyouart @rosey1981 @alastorhazbin @papichulo120627 @apollonshootafar @jasminecosmic99 @diorchaiamet @partypoison00 @camy85 @fluffly @rebelliuna @bxdbxtxh15 @impartinghades @targaryenmoony @thegirlnextdoorssister @angeliod @snh96 @aleemendoza2425-blog @lizlovecraft @natashaobo @nyenye @savagemickey03  @watercolorskyy

For some reason tumblr won't let me tag them: @arabis-world @Snileykiddie08 @Bugheadskid @nzygftoji @lauufeysonnn @missusnora @sabi127 @cicaspair418 @tojigirl

If you want to be part of my taglist

hotd masterlist

[fairysluna]

the wolf's cage.

After being captured by the Northerns, you found yourself with the Lord of Winterfell whose strange politeness makes you doubt his true intentions.

MASTERLIST

PAIRING — Cregan Stark x Wildling!Reader.

TAGS — smut (p in v, m!oral, spanking, use of the word whore, face fucking, hate sex(?, dirty talk, degrading/praise, belly bulge), cursing, mentions of war, blood and bruises, kind of enemies to lovers, dilf!cregan, and idk if this counts as dark!cregan but I'll add it just in case. If something is missing let me know!

AUTHOR'S NOTE — it's the first time that i write smut after a very long time, and i wrote this in a rush, so it's not perfect but i loved it anyway bc i fell in love with this trope. Reader is loosely based on Osha from GoT. REBLOGS AND COMMENTS ARE ALWAYS WELCOMED.

WORD COUNT — 5.3k. (oh damn)

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤenglish is not my first language.

“We found her close to the Godswood,” one of the men said. “She was hiding and preparing herself to kill, my lord.” 

Cregan walked slightly closer to you, his curiosity peaking when he noticed how small you looked curled up in a corner of your cell, covered by thick pieces of fur. Your face was stained with dirt and dried blood. His men had told him you were a menace, but after looking at you, he didn't believe it. 

“She seems harmless,” he pointed out, kneeling beside you. 

“She is not, my lord. She's responsible for the death of three of our men,” the same man explained. They were all in combat position; holding the hilt of their swords just in case you would dare to attack their leader. Cregan, however, seemed to be unafraid, getting closer to you and trying to see more of you. He was certainly intrigued.

How was a young girl like you able to kill a group of ruthless men? 

He raised his hand and gently pulled a strand of your hair out of your face; he saw a scar on your cheek and a cut on your lip. Then, you met his eyes with yours. Your cold and mercenary haze did little to intimidate him. You were finally in the presence of the man you hated the most; the man who had killed your people in cold blood. He could see your wrath burning through your haze, and he understood it. 

With his thumb, he removed the drop of blood that was dripping from your lip — a soft touch that felt so foreign to your skin. He attempted to do it again, but you moved your face away and he knew it was enough. With a sigh, he stood up casting a large shadow over your smaller frame; you looked down at the floor, ignoring his penetrating stare on you before he turned around and walked out of the cell. 

“Tell a maid to give her a bath, then bring her to the dining room,” he ordered. 

“My lord, I don't think-”

“Tell the cooks to make a meal for two, and tell a maid to keep Rickon out of my room tonight,” he abruptly interrupted him, the guard was left in surprise. 

“I beg your pardon, my lord, but I do not think it’s a good idea at all,” The maester advised him, talking in whispers so you would not hear a word. “I believe that being in a room alone with that savage would put your life at risk. We cannot afford that, not when we're in the middle of an imminent war.” 

Cregan turned to give one more look at you before one of the guards locked your cell again. You looked so fragile, and you were probably starving after spending days in the merciless Winter cold. He knew you would not be such a threat in such a condition, so he did not follow his loyal Maester’s advice.

“The decision has been made,” he spoke as he started to walk away from the dungeons. The old man quickly followed his pace. 

“I would advise you to make some double thinking about your decision-” 

“Are you questioning my methods?” His voice came out low and slow, but it carried a bit of an intimidating undertone that was easy to catch. The Maester took a step back when his superior turned around; his Lordship was an imposing man, tall and with wide shoulders and some grey eyes that would pierce through your soul. Lord Stark was a kindhearted man, but whenever he was angry he was unrecognisable. 

And the Maester trembled when he saw a small glimpse of his anger. 

“Of course not, but it is my duty as your advisor to give you the best options… risking your life it's certainly not.” 

“That girl is craving for a meal, I will not let her starve,” he grunted. “Besides, I might steal some valuable information from her. She's just a girl, and she's unarmed. She will do no harm.” 

The old man simply nodded, knowing that it was a lost battle and not having the guts to continue to defy his lord. Cregan cleared his throat, repeated the instructions and then turned around to leave his men behind. They shared confused looks, doubting his plan and how unusual it was for him to have mercy with the people of your kind. This new and sudden sympathy towards you raised suspicion among the northern guards, but they were all too afraid to speak up. 

They just obeyed the orders of their Lord. 

Cregan was tapping his fingertips against the table, patiently waiting for your arrival as he was blankly staring at his half-empty cup of wine. The only sound that was heard was coming from the fireplace, and the rest of the room was deadly silent. He was wondering how much time would it take for you to arrive when two guards opened the door, and two others were carrying you inside. They were grabbing your arms, tight enough to leave a bruise behind. Cregan stood up the instant you showed up, and, with a slight nod from him, you were freed from their grip. 

Lord Stark took the time to look at you, shamelessly glancing at every inch of your body. He noticed how your skin was glowing now, freed of any stain or impureness on your face, except for that scar on your cheekbone that seemed to be quite recent. Regardless of that, you were such a sight for his eyes, so pretty and young and fierce all the same. The glow in your eyes was still yelling your hate for him and, somehow, that would make you even more appealing to him. He followed the trail down your neck and found your bossom being squeezed by the dress which looked a bit too small for you, but that fit your body like a glove; shaping your curves and enhancing them, he had to take a deep breath after seeing you. 

All the beauty that was previously hidden under thick layers of clothes and dirty hair and face was now starting to show.

“You can leave now,” he indicated to the guards. They nodded and followed his orders immediately. 

Once they were alone, Cregan pointed at the chair on the other side of the table, inviting you to take a seat. You were reluctant, staring at the large amount of food with distrust; you thought this was a trap, no one ever invites their foes to supper. You did not obey him at first, standing still in your place, using a pair of borrowed shoes that were almost crushing your feet and making you feel like walking on burning coal. 

You knew one thing for sure; you needed to get out of there as soon as you could. Or, better yet, you had to kill that man. 

“Please, be seated,” he spoke so softly and politely that you could not believe it. It was so blatantly obvious. “The pork it's better when it's warm.” 

A glance at the table and you saw your plate already served; this did nothing but increase your mistrust. However, you walked towards the spot, slowly and with your guard up. The sound of your shoes clacking on the wooden floor as you made your way to your seat until you finally sat. 

Then, a silence fell over the room. Cregan's eyes seemed to never look away from you as he raised his cup and brought it to his lips. You nervously played with your cup, already filled with wine. 

“I gave myself the liberty to fill your cup,” he said. 

Besides that, your plate was full of beans, pork, carrots and mashed potatoes. Everything was already cut into tiny pieces, and only then did you realize you only had a spoon; no knife, and no fork. 

“Is wine not of your taste?” Cregan asked after your long silence. “Would you rather have some ale? or juice?” 

Nothing came out of your mouth. Cregan was losing his little patience, but he knew better and he stayed calm. Upsetting you would only make things worse. 

“You might be wondering why I spared your life today,” he started, attempting a two-sided conversation. “If you were any other, your head would be in a spike by now… but you might be useful for us.” He made a pause, sipping his wine so delicately and manly. Then he added, “For me.”

Again, no answer. 

“I believe you have valuable information that would help us to understand your people better,” he explained, trying to sound likeable and friendly, even giving you a warm smile. “Maybe that way we'll understand your reasons.” 

“Why would I give information to the one who's murdering my people?” You finally spoke. 

Cregan heard your thick northern accent and a smile was drawn on his face. He hid the gesture by grabbing his fork and knife and cutting a piece of meat before putting it inside his mouth. You realized that contrary to you, he had a knife; you wondered how you could reach it without him noticing.

“Ah, so you can speak,” he claimed, cheerfully. “For a moment I thought you were mute.” 

“I am not,” you grunted.

“You could stop an imminent war, you know?” He continued the previous conversation. “Save the lives of your people, avoid a bloodbath.” 

“You are the only one causing those things, my lord,” the mocking tone in your voice when you uttered the last two words was obvious. “This war carries your name.” 

“You are the ones taking over our lands,” he debated. 

“We're escaping,” you snapped. “You have no idea what's beyond that wall. You and your men would do the same in our position.” 

“And what is it that's up there with all of you?” 

“You wouldn't believe my words. You'll have to see it.” 

He hummed, not convinced at all. He leaned back on his chair. 

“How did you get that scar on your face? It looks quite recent,” he slightly narrowed his eyes. 

“An accident while climbing the wall,” you simply explained, not wanting to give out too many details. 

“When did you cross it?” 

“A few weeks ago.” 

“And what have you been doing all this time?” 

“I already told you… trying to survive.” 

Cregan clicked his tongue, sipping his wine once more and letting the topic go. “You haven't touched your food,” he pointed out. “Nor your wine. The cooks work hard on this food.” 

“I'm not hungry.” 

“It's not poisoned,” he let you know as if you would believe his mere words. “If I ever kill you it wouldn't be with a drop of venom, that it's not an honourable way to murder your opponent.” 

“Honour,” you repeated with a mocking tone. 

“Does that word sound funny to you?” 

“It does when it's you saying it,” you muttered, clenching your jaw. “You have the blood of innocents in your hands, you have no honour.”

The tense environment was interrupted by the sound of the door opening. Soon, a small child entered the room and ran towards Cregan; it was his son, his spitting image standing right next to him. His weakness. You looked closely, and you noticed how Lord Stark's demeanour was briefly replaced by a softer one when he held his child in his arms, only to get angry again when one of the maids walked in rushing behind the boy. You were observant, and then quickly an idea of escape lighted up your mind. 

“I apologize, Lord Stark,” the maid murmured, shaking and breathing unevenly. “Little Rickon wanted to say goodnight and he ran away from his chambers-” 

“Don't let it happen again,” he stopped her before she could go on with her explanations that were of little interest to his Lordship. “Just take him to bed, and don't let this happen again.” 

“Yes, my lord.”

He kissed the child's forehead and hugged him one last time before the maid pulled his arm and took him away. The boy was looking back at his sire with saddened eyes as he walked, and once he was out of sight, Cregan was back to his tough facade. However, you knew new information, and now you knew exactly how to manage to escape.

“Was that your child?” 

“Indeed,” he nodded. 

“Beyond the wall, children are taught to fight and hunt from a very young age,” you randomly told him. “Does he know how to do that?” 

“He's still learning.” 

“How old is he?” 

“We are not here to talk about my child,” he snapped, growing impatient with each passing second. 

You stopped, only for a brief second to let it rest and prepare yourself for the next thing. The suddenness of your next question left him speechless.

“Where's his mother?” You noticed how he tensed, clenching his jaw and forming a fist with his hand. There it is. “Is she around?” 

His silence gave you the answer you were expecting, you had to hold back a smile.

“Let me guess,” you murmured, “Childbirth?” 

His fist smacked against the table and you noticed how all the plates jumped due to the impact. He stood up, fuming, all the kindness and politeness vanishing from his body as he lost his patience with you. Yet, you did not seem fazed by his roughness, you barely flinched. You stood up too and slowly started to walk around the table, to get closer to him. 

“I bet your nights might be lonely now that you've lost your wife,” A false tone of empathy was heard in your voice as you kept taking step after step. “Does your bed feel empty at night?” 

“That's enough,” he growled. 

“You dressed me, bathed me and fed me… perhaps you're trying to convince me to stay by your side,” you deduced, using your seduction skills to distract him from the fact that you were getting closer to the knife on the table. “Is this your intention? To make me yours? To turn me into your whore?” Your voice lowered itself a few tones, getting raspier and more seductive.

You reached his side, his eyes were stuck on your face as his breathing was starting to get faster with each second. You saw his jaw, sharp as the knife you were trying to grab, and tensed as he tried to hide his growing arousal. Of course, he has noticed your attributes before, and of course, he had secretly —and shamelessly— fantasized about ripping your dress to see what was underneath, but now your words would only make his struggle grow. 

Perhaps the Maester was right. Perhaps this was a bad idea. 

“Have you heard what they say about the women from the Free Folk?” You were teasing him, boldly raising your hands until they went to his thick coat and untied it; it fell around his leather shoes, and only a thin shirt was beneath it. Your eyes glanced at him, noticing the chest hair on his skin as your hands felt the hardness of his abdomen; years of training with the sword had certainly made its effect. “People say we're difficult to handle, but that we fuck like goddesses. Wouldn't you want to try it out?”

One of your hands travelled lower and lower until it was able to feel the shape of his growing cock in your palm and through his pants. A winning smile appeared on your lips. His growing lust did not allow him to see the moment when your hand took the knife. Luckily for him, his reflexes were quite fast, and he was able to stop your hand right before you almost stabbed his neck. Your eyes widened as he grabbed your wrist and turned your body around, slamming you against the table. He pressed himself against you, your dress now ruined with the food beneath your frame. 

Cregan's hand grabbed a big portion of your hair and pulled it back, roughly, forcing you to arch your back. You could not help but whimper due to the pain in your skull. His breathing soon reached your neck and caused shivers down your spine; it smelled like wine. 

“You little whore,” he mocked you, “you thought you could've killed me?” 

His voice was completely different to the one you have heard before; it was almost like a growl, so deep, slow and hoarse. You would be lying if you said you did not find it amusing. His touch was rough and lacking the gentleness and delicacy that it had hours ago when he wiped the blood off of your lip. 

“It was worth the try,” you breathed out, laughing at him when you felt his arousal pressing against your arse. 

“What's so funny, huh?” he grunted, pulling you harder and making you hum. “I could kill you right here, right now,” he threatened. 

“But you won't,” you murmured. 

“That's right,” he mumbled, breathing in your scent. Even after taking a bath you still smelled of pine tree, it was an intoxicating smell. “I will prove your word first. Let's see if the wildlings whores fuck like goddesses, mhm?” 

Your eyes widened when you felt his hand freeing your hair and going towards the skirts of your borrowed dress. He lifted them, holding them in place on your waist behind your back. He saw how your pussy was already starting to glisten with your arousal, even when he had barely touched you beforehand. His cock twitched inside his pants when he noticed that all of this was because of his rough touch. 

You filthy slut, he thought. 

You heard a soft stump on the floor as his pants fell down his thick legs. It did not take too much time for you to feel his leaking tip brushing against your folds, spreading them open and smearing your slick all over it. You had to bite your lip, holding back a gasp as he teasingly rubbed against your clit; this was certainly not what you were expecting, but it felt good enough to make you want more. 

Slowly, he started to make his way inside you, grabbing your arsecheeck with his free hand and spreading it only to see your needy cunt taking him. Cregan gasped, your soft walls were wrapping around him perfectly, squeezing him just right and creaming all over him. He hummed in delight as he felt your legs already starting to shake. Gods, he was big, stretching you out as of you were a fucking maiden, providing you with that sweet pain that made your eyes close. 

When he was halfway in, he pushed himself all in with a single thrust. His head touched that sweet, spongy spot inside of you. “Fuck!” you cried out, involuntarily spreading your legs further, at the same time your hands pushed all the plates and cups away from your side. It all ended up spilt on the floor. 

He remained there for a few seconds, still inside of you and not moving an inch. Cregan's hand reached for your hair once again, pulling it back until your back was pressed against his chest and his lips were brushing against your ear. His breathing was ragged and unsteady; his tongue licked his lips as they started to get dry. You were able to feel him, his veins pulsing inside of you as he would twitch each time you clenched around him. Cregan hummed against your ear. 

Without warning, his hips started to move and your legs suddenly felt as weak and giggly as jelly. Your hands gripped the border of the table as his movements started to increase his pace. He was filling you up so good, so deep. You found yourself murmuring senseless words as you slowly started to lose your mind, which was a weird thing for you; you would usually be the one in charge. 

Though you did not mind submitting to him for a while. All your morality was soon gone, and all thanks to the man whose cock was good enough to make you forget about how much you hated him.

His hips started to meet yours with more force, thrusting hard but slow. It was just the beginning, and he wanted to make sure you would feel every inch of him, to feel every vein. All while he was also losing his mind over how good your pussy was taking him; your tight grip around him was sending him to the heavens, his eyes never looking away from the place where both of your bodies would join. Your walls contracted around him whenever he was pulling out, almost as if they were reluctant to let him go. Cregan loved that a bit too much, he might have become addicted to it. 

Then, he sped it up. His grunts and moans were falling from his lips in cascades that reached your ears. A vocal man he was, expressing his lust with the most arousing sounds you have ever heard. It brought a sense of pride to your chest, having such an imposing man as him reduced to a moaning mess. But the truth was, you were not doing any better; his animalistic movements were now sending you over the edge quicker than you thought. The sound of your bodies slapping against each other and the feeling of your arousal falling down your thighs was enough to pull you into a cloud of raw lasciviousness. Your mind felt dizzy. 

Suddenly, Cregan grabbed the knife you were trying to reach and threw it right next to your hand. You saw it through your heavy eyelids as you panted and gasped. You felt his lips pressing against your ear once again, but this time he spoke,

“Try to kill me now,” he hoarsely said. “Go on. Where's the girl who tried to kill me? Not so brave now with my cock ripping you apart, huh?” 

“Fuck off…” you managed to say in a murmur. Cregan mockingly laughed, and his hand fell against the soft skin of your rear, leaving a pinching pain behind. Gods, you hated the fact that you loved it so much.

“So fiery, and yet you're a mess…” he chuckled, his heavy breathing against your nape making you tremble under his touch. “I wish you could see how your little cunny is taking my cock… you're fucking soaking for me.” 

You moaned, louder than you should have. 

“Want to take a look?” he teased you, pushing deeper inside of you. You tried to mumble an answer, but nothing came out of your mouth. His hand met your arse again, this time slightly harder. “Answer me,” he demanded, using his lower tone which made your knees go weak. 

You had no choice, “Y-yes…” you whimpered as tears of pleasure were gathering in the corner of your eyes. 

He pulled out of you and you immediately whined, complaining about his absence. His hands went to the ties on the back of your dress, starting to pull them out to get them loose enough to remove that piece of fabric that was just bothering him. When he finally did, he pulled it down in a single movement, and just like that you were completely exposed to him. 

He took a quick look at your body once you turned around, glancing at your breasts and your perky nipples, and then looking at the glistening mess between your thighs. His hand wrapped around your jaw, and he leaned forward; his leaking cock rubbing against your belly as his nose touched your cheek. Suddenly, his lips trapped yours in a heated kiss that lacked any delicacy; he was claiming your mouth, swirling his tongue around yours and devouring you. You heard how he pushed the rest of the dishes, plates and cups on the ground, then he lifted your body forcing you to spread your legs. Only then he pulled away. 

He looked down, watching your pussy drenched with your arousal and chuckling at the sight. “Didn't know wildlings women were such whores… getting this wet when I fuck you rough,” he mocked you, tightening the grip around your jaw and forcing you to keep your eyes on him. 

Cregan guided his cock towards your slit, repeating the same teasing game as before, rubbing his tip against your now throbbing clit soaking it with the mixture of your juices and his. He gave a few taps afterwards, making you whine and your legs shake. You never, in a million years, thought you would be thinking of begging a Lord like him, yet there you were, about to plead to have him inside of you once again because the ache between your thighs was becoming unbearable. 

As if he had read your thoughts, he soon pressed his cockhead against your entrance, pushing just the tip. You sighed, biting your lip as you looked down at it. You could have come right there as you saw how he slowly filled you up and stretched your walls once more. The way your labia would spread to take him in; such an obscene sight it was, yet you couldn't bring yourself to take your eyes off of it. 

Once he was fully sheathed in you, you managed to perceive a small bulge forming in your lower belly which would appear each time he would bury himself deep inside of you. He did not take too much time to be rough this time, starting to snap his hips against yours and making you moan and drool until your mind was fully gone once again. His big hands were grabbing your hips, his nails digging into your flesh and making it slightly painful for you; yet, you didn't want it to stop. The sound of him entering your wetness was enough to make you mumble nonsense, and it wasn't long before you managed to see a ring of your juices around the bottom of his shaft. Your eyes rolled back. 

His animalistic movements were sending you over the edge, and it was humiliating how loud your cries of pleasure were; you were certain that they could be heard in the hallway, but neither you nor Cregan cared enough to stop. Both of you were consumed by each other's touch, it was rough and passionate, you could feel the heat running through your veins as he possessed every inch of your insides until you were nothing but a moaning mess. Your skin was glowing with a layer of sweat, and Cregan leaned forward to lick on your collarbone, his tongue creating a path to your breasts; his lips closed around your nipple, sucking and nibbling. You grew desperate for release. 

“Fuck- I need to… I'm so close,” you whimpered, your eyes locking with his. 

“Come on,” he hoarsely murmured. “Show me how good of a whore you are, and make a mess on my cock.” 

His words blurred your mind, sending a stimulus right into your core. You felt that sweet sensation of culmination when he touched your most sensitive point inside of you over and over again until you were sobbing with the tears of pleasure gathering in the corners of your eyes as you felt your release exploding and washing over you until your legs felt sore. You felt weak, trembling and overwhelmed. Your hair was sticking at your forehead due to your sweat and you were far gone into the pleasure he had just provided you. Yet, he seemed to not have enough. 

Lord Stark pulled out of you. His length had a layer of your release coating it, and you felt your cheeks grow warm. It was unusual for you to feel this shy in this situation, but this whole thing was something rather unusual and rare. Sleeping with the biggest foe, you were a traitor now. 

But Gods, it felt so damn good.

“Get on your knees,” he ordered. His hand wrapped around his leaking cock stroking himself, legs slightly parted as he looked at you with darkened eyes filled with lust. He was achingly hard, you could tell; his stones seemed heavy with his seed, which you would rather feel inside of you. 

Yet, you obeyed, kneeling and looking up at him through your lashes. He cursed with a sigh, twitching with the lustful sight of you ready to take him once again. 

“Open wide,” he instructed, brushing his cockhead against your swollen lips. You did what you were told. “Wider,” he demanded, and you obeyed again. “That's a good little whore…” he hummed, content. 

You stuck your tongue out and felt his salty taste as he tapped his cock against it. You moaned, and he grabbed the sides of your face to keep you still as he started to move in and out of your mouth. He groaned, looking up and then back at you; such a skilful little minx you were, taking him so well. 

Soon, your gags were echoing in the room along with your gulps and his moans. You were drooling; your saliva running down the corners of your lips as he fucked them as fast and hard as he pleased. 

“There you go, take it all just like that,” he praised you, and you felt the warmth of the tears falling down your cheeks. “Mhm, fuck. I might start to believe what they say now. You're sucking my cock like a fucking goddess…” 

You felt the back of your head pressing against the border of the table as he sped up. You were choking around him, and the sounds that came out of it were obscene and filthy, and Cregan loved it. 

Before you could tell, he spilt himself inside of your mouth, forcing you to swallow every drop that left him. And you did. 

Once he freed you from his grip, you pulled away. A string of saliva was still hanging from your lips as you desperately gasped for air, and only then Cregan noticed the big mess you had become. Hot and soaked cheeks, eyes tearing up, your lips swollen and covered with his thick and pearly seed. You were such an unholy sight. 

His thumb reached for your lip, wiping your drool out of it. Such a gesture brought you back to that very same evening when he wiped the blood out of the cut in your lip. It did not feel foreign anymore. You were breathless, trying to regain composure as Cregan looked down at you with a satisfied glance. 

“Seems like the rumours are not false,” he muttered, starting to pull his pants up again. “I might keep you so that I can feel those pretty lips around my cock again.” 

“Keep- keep me?” you asked, confused and overwhelmed.

Cregan arched an eyebrow, “You think because I fucked you I will let you go?” he chuckled. You felt his hand wrapped around your jaw once again, forcing you to stand up. You trembled a little, feeling your legs shaky and weak. “So naive of you… to think that I would have a taste of you and then let you go.” 

You felt your heart sink inside your chest as you heard him. 

“Since you offered so nicely before, I will accept,” he sighed, picking up the dress you were wearing and throwing it up to you. “I’ll make you my personal whore, how about that?” You went silent. “Oh, come on, don't pretend this was not your idea… I was going to let you go with a warning but you came out with a better proposal. How could I say no?” 

“I don't- I-” you shook your head. 

“You belong to me now,” he chuckled. “A wildling made just for me to fuck as I please… Sounds perfect, does it not?” 

You look into his grey eyes, perceiving and reading the mischievousness in them. You tried to escape and return to your freedom. Instead, everything went wrong and now you were trapped in the wolf's cage once again. 

You were not sure how to feel about that.

follow @by-fairysluna for updates!!

[lilbunnis]

❛ ♡. header credit. ⎯⎯ 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐰𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲. ❜

★ ⎯⎯ aemond targaryen has always wanted someone as his own; and with him already having claimed his vicious mount vhagar, the queen of dragons herself--- what is there to stop him from claiming you, too?

author’s note᛬ heey! 🍓 so……this is my second time posting this particular story--- however, it was a long time ago & someone anonymously requested to read it again. happily, i offered to repost it for them (with the exception that i re-edit it since my style of writing has changed / improved!) … anyways, reblogs & comments are deeply appreciated. ♡ + both aemond & reader are equally unhinged. <3 mwuah !

warnings᛬ mdni! smut, dubcon [kind of… but trust me, it’s wanted], dark!aemond, profanity, she/her pronouns, afab reader, innocence kink, corruption kink, coercion, manipulation, pussy whipped!aemond, breeding kink, cunnilingus, fingering, obsessive & possessive behavior, pet names, romance, fluff. any grammatical errors are my own--- in advance, i sincerely apologize.

word count᛬ 2.5k

𝐎𝐇, 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔, 𝑭𝑶𝑹 𝒀𝑶𝑼, 𝐈’𝐃 𝐃𝐎 𝑨𝑵𝒀𝑻𝑯𝑰𝑵𝑮.

aemond targaryen has always thought of her as his--- his to protect, his to care for, his to love; ever since he’d met her, he surrounded himself in her feminine presence, around her sweetness and innocence, keeping her close by and never letting her trail very far out of his sight.

unless, of course, it was absolutely necessary, and even then, he’d have one of his most trustworthy guards (loyal only to him) follow her around all day--- discreetly, of course.

however, during their short time apart, the one-eyed prince would be on constant edge; irritable and in a foul mood throughout the time that they were apart, not being able to trust anyone to truly protect his lady the way he knew he could.

oh, how he missed his dearly beloved so--- so much so, that the wayward prince was known for his brutal lashings and merciless beheadings (all a gift to his love) to all of those who merely breathed the wrong way in his proximity.

or simply, sweet gifts of pretty, sparkling sapphires and pearls.

still, he knew that she thought his temper and rage was charming, as she had once told him in that sweet, gentle little voice of hers, soothing his fiery temper as if she were the maiden reborn.

like his own little angel, so delicate, tender-hearted and mine, aemond thought.

sometimes, most of the time, aemond would just simply gaze at her, at her beauty, longingly; like she was the center of the universe and held all of the twinkling stars in the night sky.

most people wouldn’t dare to believe such a thing, but aemond thought it was cute when she learned something new in philosophy, excitedly wanting to share the new knowledge she’d learned from her septa with him--- even if he already knew, just to be able to listen to her sweet, angelic voice.

oh, and on those simple days, content to just listen to her babbling on about whichever subject she deemed of interest; he would lovingly hand feed her fresh strawberries, one by one; the ripest, juiciest and sweetest ones, listening as she breathily moaned in content as each one entered her pouty mouth.

meanwhile, as his little darling continued on about whichever subject interested her at the moment; the one-eyed prince watched in delight as the red juices dribbled down her chin, allowing him to quickly swoop in and kiss it delicately away, causing him to hum in content at the sweet taste.

whether it be from the strawberries themselves or the sweet taste of her skin, it mattered not to the prince--- because the next moment, he would drop to his knees and feast on her delicious, drooling cunt; burying himself right beneath her fluffy skirts as he heard her girlishly moan and whimper for him, as he continued enjoying the taste of her maidenhood.

on lazy days, the prince will sit with her in his lap, one of his strong, lean arms wrapped snugly around her waist, most protectively; meanwhile, his free hand would slip beneath her fluffy skirts and play with her virgin, soaking cunt, teasingly stroking his long, calloused fingers through her wet, puffy folds.

seven above, and the sounds of her soft, breathy little moans, almost luring him to bend her right over the wooden table in the back of the library and rut into her like some wild, depraved beast, claiming her maidenhead as his.

‘twas almost too much to bear for the prince, knowing she was already his in body, mind, heart and soul.

he always imagined what she must taste like that day, right before he would feast on her cunny, almost to tease himself--- like freshly baked sweet tarts, spoonfuls of honey, strawberries…

late at night, while in the privacy of his own chambers, he’d furiously fuck his fist to the thought of burying his face between her smooth thighs once again, wanting nothing more than to taste and fuck her cunt with his tongue greedily; before he’d come so fucking hard in his hand, his seed coating the skin of his taut abdomen and dripping down his fingers--- sticky and messy and entirely spent.

sighing heavily, aemond would barely resist the temptation to exit his chambers and go straight to hers, knowing she’d welcome him with an open heart and open legs.

…fuck, what a waste of his seed, he thinks, for he could’ve pumped her empty womb full of his seed; fuck load after load inside of her, and come by morning, she would already be carrying his son in her belly.

rightfully so; she’s be so beautiful, so fragile, so obedient, a perfect little wife she’d be for him, indeed.

meanwhile, back in the library, aemond would continue teasing her little cunny, occasionally dipping the very tips of his fingertips into her little virgin fuck-hole, feeling how fucking tight she was for him, causing him to harden almost painfully inside of his leather breeches, right below her squirming, little ass.

like his very own wanton, silk street whore.

she continued to moan and whimper repeatedly; making him gently shush her with delicate kisses across her neck, spreading her dripping arousal all around her swollen bud, hearing her mewl his name like a prayer and grip the polished library table forcibly, watching her blissed-out face until she came all over his fingers.

when he made her come so hard with just playing with her little bundle of nerves, he had to slap a hand over her mouth to muffle her cries of pleasure and whisper sweet praises into her ear, knowing how sensitive and needy she was in his arms, just after coming down from her peak and making her come so hard on his fingers.

of course, the more time he spent with her, the harder it was to resist her--- and so, most nights, when aemond could no longer resist being away from her; the need to see her being just too much for him to bear any longer, he’d eagerly seek her out, knowing she’d be in her chambers, awaiting his arrival.

just as eager and wanton as he was, it seemed.

smirking, aemond chuckled softly, embracing her; “my sweetest, my darling, my little love--- fuck, i have missed you.”

he couldn’t control himself anymore, he needed to see her, to be with her, to have her.

always.

specifically, in the late hours of the night, wanting to be as close to her as physically possible; fuck, he loved her so much, he didn’t ever want her to doubt his love for her--- he stripped them both of their evening clothes, his amethyst eye dilated and wild at the sight of her nude form.

during those private evenings, aemond had convinced her for him to claim her as his… fully, in the ways only a man could claim a woman.

with his persuasion, his silver tongue easily convinced her into saying yes; causing him to release a purr and claim her body multiple times that night, until she was a shaking, sobbing and sweaty mess beneath him, full of loads of his seed, while he held her tightly against him in his arms--- possessively.

uncaringly, the prince left all sorts of love marks all across her skin, kissing every inch of her soft, glistening skin that he could reach, suckling on her swollen, puffy nipples, knowing her plush breasts would soon grow heavy with milk for their many babes that’d come someday soon.

selfishly, just maybe; he could persuade his little darling for a taste for himself--- fucking hells, he couldn’t wait for her to grow round and fat with his sons!

insatiably, he would fuck his already hardening, leaking cock back inside of her sopping cunt, his and her own moans of pure love and ecstasy echoing off of the walls of her chambers.

however, even with all of the bliss and pleasure and love; still came her doubts and worries.

his sweet lady, his precious love, his only girl--- was utterly terrified of someone finding out about their affair.

however, the fearsome, bloodthirsty dragon prince would always reassure her; whispering sweet words of his love and devotion into her ears, calming her by kissing her love-marked skin before he would fuck her squelching cunt once again with his cock, ploughing into her mercilessly, filling her with another load of his seed, until tears would stream down her blushy cheeks.

unable to stop herself, she’d let out the most feminine moans for him, not being able to control her sweet mewls from escaping her kiss-swollen lips, sobbing out deliriously as he continuously fucked her ruthlessly, uncaring of who heard them; for the one-eyed prince was too addicted to the taste of her and the pretty, precious sounds she made just for him.

it wouldn’t matter anyway, if anyone were to find out about their love affair--- aemond genuinely honestly couldn’t give a fuck if someone were to tell her lord father that her maidenhead was claimed by him anyone.

if anyone would dare to question his lady’s virtue or purity, he would cut out their tongues, before mercilessly killing them and feed their mutilated corpse to his mighty beast, vhagar.

aemond had always been a possessive man, especially when it concerned his sweet little lady, to the point that most of the noble lords and ladies of the court started to take notice; however, the fearsome prince paid them little attention--- nowadays, his only concern in life was his darling little bride.

some days, when the weather was warm enough and the sun was shining brightly, aemond would take his lady on long walks around the red keep’s royal gardens, right after he finished his morning training session with ser criston.

as always, it was just the two of them, together; and while he watched her instead of admiring the pretty flowers that she seemed so smitten by, he couldn’t stop the tiny grin from spreading across his face at just the mere sight of her.

her, her, her.

his--- his lady, his woman, his wife.

there was a secret, hidden alcove surrounded by various cherry trees and gorgeous pink peonies, which aemond would often bring her to visit; it was almost as if it was their special spot.

then, without warning, aemond would gently press her back up against one of the trunks of the pretty, blossoming cherry trees, kissing her so sweetly, so passionately, so tenderly; it made her swoon and see constellations on the backs of her fluttering eyelids.

“marry me.”

suddenly, she felt as if her heart had suddenly stopped beating and she felt rather faint--- for a moment, her heart felt as if it had skipped several beats, because surely… her sweet aemond did not just ask the impossible of her?

again, aemond spoke.

“marry me,” he murmured against her soft, perfumed skin (that smelled of the lavender oils they’d previously bathed in that morning together) trailing open-mouthed kisses along her sensitive neck, causing a breathy whimper to escape her pretty, pouty lips.

instantly, aemond’s ears had perked up to the sound of her breathing that was quickening, his large hands roaming and grasping at her sides as if to soothe her sudden panic, enjoying the feeling of her womanly curves against his big hands, even through the silk fabric of her pretty, sapphire colored dress.

“hmm…no,” she drawled lazily, though her sweet voice was teasing, “—my father is suspicious enough already about all of the rumors going on about us…he doesn't ask, of course; i’m afraid it’s because he is too frightened of you,” she giggled softly, batting her long eyelashes up at the handsome prince.

aemond smirked, amused by his little darling.

“besides,” she continued softly, her usual sweetened voice saddened and aemond watched as his lady’s heart was visibly breaking right before his own eye, “—my father… he will arrange a betrothal for me soon and i must do my duty, as is expected of me,” she whispered, while gently twirling a few strands of her lover’s long silvery hair around one of her fingers, her face sullen--- like a little girl having her favorite treat taken away from her.

aemond hummed; a soft, dangerous sound as his face remained stoic, not displaying a single emotion that he was currently feeling--- his natural-born eye on the other hand…was a raging storm of a dark, angry violet, screaming promises of fire and blood.

“that'll never happen,” aemond murmured softly, his voice a raspy baritone, completely unbothered, “—if your father even dares to try and take you away from me, he'll suffer a most painful death; i assure you, my sweet lady.”

her heart fluttered, both of her cheeks heating up and her head began to feel fuzzy, a dreamy expression forming on her pretty face; though she wasn’t sure if it was from the warm weather or by his loving, murderous words.

“you're so sweet,” she cooed dreamily, smiling up at him as she wrapped both of her arms around his neck loosely, her fingers gently brushing through more of his long silvery hair, feeling how silky-smooth the strands were--- curtsey of the queen, his darling mother; a sweet gift of scented oils she had gotten for her favorite son all the way from pentos.

“only for you, my beloved,” the prince promised, tenderly brushing his knuckles along one of her rosy cheeks, bending down towards her shorter height and capturing her rouge-stained lips in a sweet, deeply passionate kiss--- a deep, throaty sound of lust escaping from him.

ah, she tastes of the sweetest of innocence and strawberries.

his favorite.

‘twas as if the prince could never get enough of her taste, of her.

sweetly, she releases a little whine, high-pitched and so needy for him; the sweetness of a poisonous kiss--- oh, how he wants to love her forever and bathe in all of the glorious love she had to offer him.

gods, he loved her… only, only, only her.

“my angel, so soft and pure, so innocent; and your precious heart… it is mine,” he growled, deepening the kiss against her lips--- his large, warm and calloused hands began trailing down to cup her sweet, little ass through her skirts, bundling the silky, sapphire colored fabric in his greedy hands to fondle and squeeze the soft flesh of her asscheeks; pinching and clutching possessively.

grinning wolfishly, aemond trailed his open-mouthed kisses down her delicate neck, suckling freshly new love marks into her fading, bruised skin--- all across her neck, jawline, collarbones and the very tops of her soft, perky breasts.

“marry me,” he asked once again, sounding impatient, though he wouldn’t mind begging, if it only meant claiming her for himself.

she wrapped her arms around his neck more snugly, standing on the tips of her toes to kiss him sweetly, all across his chin and the corners of his mouth, feeling his hands roam freely all over her once more before settling still, giving her backside a loving squeeze.

“be my wife,” he pleads once more, his tone of voice more desperate than ever before, sweet as sugar and the burning flesh of corpses.

she released a small sigh, moving closer just slightly so that she could brush her saliva-coated lips softly against his own, “yes,” she breathed lovingly, feeling as he visibly shuddered against her just from her mere acceptance of his begging proposal.

“i’ve always been yours.”

fin.

[sylasthegrim]

The Wolf's Den

Pairing: Cregan Stark x wife!reader

Tags: wedding night, oral sex (female receiving), p. in v. sex, loss of virginity (virgin reader, implied)

Wordcount: 2k

On the night of your wedding, you finally enter the wolf's den, ready to be devoured.

HotD Masterlist

It felt almost surreal to Cregan as he locked the door of his chambers behind him and turned, taking in the sight you made. Your cheeks were flushed with the cold as you stood at the foot of his bed, removing your cloak and setting it down the large trunk.

Despite your distaste for it, you had drank a cup of ale before your maid had led you to his chambers, as you thought it would soothe your nerves. Still, your hands were trembling with anticipation.

Cregan watched as you unlaced your boots and removed them, and the sight of your bare feet on the dark stones of his chambers felt intimate. He added more wood to the fire, making it blaze brighter and crackle louder as you started to unlace your dress.

He mirrored you, removing his own cloak and boots, and pulled his shirt over his head. You smiled and bit your lip as you allowed yourself to look at him fully and Cregan smirked, flattered at your pleased look.

He started to unbuckle his belt and to pull at the laces of his trousers, his stomach contracting in anticipation as you let your dress fall to the floor, revealing a simple corset that tied at the front and thin cotton skirt with laces at one hip. 

“You are beautiful,” he reassured as you flushed in embarrassment.

The top of your breasts were tainted pink as well, your blush extending to your ears and throat, down to where your chest disappeared under the corset.

“Thank you,” you murmured, nodding at him to continue.

He flushed as well and pushed his trousers past his hips and legs, stepping out of them. He couldn’t help but square his shoulders and tighten his stomach as he finally stood bare in front of you. He bit his lip, wondering what was going through your mind as you took him in.

Your breathing picked up as your eyes roamed his frame. The fire made his skin glow and his muscles stand out; you had gotten a glimpse of his chest and stomach once as he was training in the courtyard, but you had forced your eyes to look away.

Now you could look however much you wanted without guilt, from his broad shoulders to his chiseled abdomen. Your core heated and clenched as you took in the nest of dark curls in the cradle of his hips, and the impressive length that hung between his thighs.

You felt a twinge of apprehension despite yourself, but felt safer as he stepped closer and slid his hands on each side of your neck, cradling your head tenderly.

He looked at you with nothing but warmth in his eyes before dipping his head and kissing you softly. You enjoyed the firm press of his mouth before parting your lips, welcoming the gentle prod of his tongue. He sighed against you, his facial hair tickling your upper lip and chin deliciously. 

He deepened the kiss further when you started pulling at the laces of your corset, and he kept kissing you as you removed it along with your cotton shift. He made a sound close to a whimper when the fabric pooled to the floor with a soft noise.

He made that sound again when you reached out and trailed your hands on his sides, sliding to his hips tentatively. He pulled away to breathe in your neck when you tangled your fingers in his nest of dark curls and the underside of your wrist bumped into his hard length.

He followed the column of your throat with his lips, groaning as you looked down between your two bodies and circled your fingers around him cautiously. The skin was hot and smooth, like silk stretched over a hard rod, and the feeling of him twitching against your palm was exhilarating.

“My love,” he groaned against your neck, one of his hands following the line of your throat to your chest, curling a hand over your breast.

You sighed as he did so, and feeling encouraged, he started drawing circles with his thumb around your nipple. You felt both of them getting hard, peaking and tightening, your whole chest prickling with desire.

“Let me see you,” he said as he pulled away, taking one step back and looking at you.

His brows furrowed and he bit his lip at the sight you made. Your breasts were round and soft, large enough to fill his entire hand and more, and he wanted to trail kisses in the deep valley between them until he reached your stomach. It was soft as well, and combined with your round hips and the patch of curls at the apex of your thighs, it caught the eye and made the rosy hue of your folds stand out deliciously.

He felt like a man starved and did not know where to start. His mind was spinning with all the lustful acts he wanted to share with you, and your wide eyes told him you were just as wanting as he was.

He stepped forward again, wrapping his large hands around your waist and you pushed yourself up against him willingly. You moaned in each other's mouth when his hard length pressed against your stomach and your breasts against his chest. You wrapped your arms around his neck, using your hold as leverage to push yourself up higher, seeking friction. 

Kissing you fervently, he picked you up with ease and groaned with satisfaction when you followed the movement, wrapping your legs around his hips. It brought your warm folds against his hard length, trapping it between your stomach and the feeling of you pressed against one another was heady.

He walked around the bed and deposited you on it, crawling after you and pressing himself fully against your naked body. Propping himself up on his elbows, he dipped his head in your neck again and you moaned aloud as he sucked a kiss on your tender skin.

You rocked against one another, his hard cock sliding between your folds, spreading your wetness on him; the sensation made him throb with desire, but he decided his own need had to wait, as he was starved for a taste of you. 

He abandoned your neck for the valley between your breasts like he had fantasized, but he could not linger there long as your cunt called to him as you rocked against his hard abdomen, seeking friction. He looked up at you as he kissed his way down quickly, settling your legs over his shoulders, enjoying the shudder that went through you as you realized what his goal was.

“Cregan,” you whimpered as he kissed the crease of your hip without looking away from your face. He looked like a man on a mission, crazed and wild and you were enthralled by him. 

“Yes?” he breathed, his voice deeper and rougher than usual.

“Yes,” you replied, your whisper turning into a moan as he licked a hot trail along your folds, pressing firmer at the top where your skin folded over a hard nub. Your thighs shook around his head as he did it again, grunting his pleasure against your skin. The vibration made you bite your lip in restraint as heat spread from the tightest point of your core to all your abdomen. 

You reached down and tangled your fingers in his hair when he dipped his tongue between your folds, and it made his hold on your hips tighten. You rocked your hips up into his mouth, almost overwhelmed by the feeling of his hot, hard tongue in your most intimate place, his upper lip catching on your nub everytime he dipped his tongue further down.

You cried out when he slid his tongue in the dip leading to your entrance, one time, then a second time, and on the third time he thrust his tongue inside of you. He groaned against you like he was the one being pleasured, and heat coiled almost painfully in your core. You felt as though you were about to snap as he quickened his movements, devouring you with precision and obvious enjoyment. 

“Cregan,” you cried out, pulling at his hair, your hips rocking against him frantically. He groaned in time with the thrusts of your hips and the thrusts of his tongue, the both of you growing more frantic with each passing second.

Finally, as he sucked on your nub harder, almost hard enough to make your squirm in oversensitiveness, did the overload make your tumble over the edge. The tension inside of you snapped and you cried out as you were caught in a whirlwind of immeasurable intensity. Wave after wave of the most shattering pleasure you had ever experienced crashed through you as you ground your cunt against his face, encouraged by his own grunts of enjoyment. 

It seemed to go on for an endless minute, and as the pressure lessened and a deep sense of relief washed over you, you fell back against the bed, letting go of his hair. He pulled away, rising on his knees and the sight he made made your head spin again — he looked wild, his hair in disarray, his lips red and wet, his eyes blown into two black pools.

He was panting furiously, his hard cock a dark red he was palming with obvious restraint. You felt your core clench and something primal pull at you from behind your belly button. You reached out to him and he let himself be pulled in the cradle of your hips once again —but this time you reached out, the fresh memory of his tongue inside you rekindling your desire.

“We don’t have to,” he grunted against your cheek as he understood your intent.

“I want to,” you breathed.

“I think I’m too far gone to please you this way,” he grunted at his tip caught in the dip leading to your entrance, his cock throbbing in your hand as you guided him inside you.

“I want to please you,” you said frantically, “I want to feel you inside me.”

Unable to resist the temptation, Cregan let himself be pulled fully inside you, groaning aloud when you removed your hand and canted your hips up, your legs wrapping around his hips and pulling him in. His hips stuttered as your cunt clenched around him, soaking wet, hot and maddeningly tight. He thrust into you as you arched against him, throwing your head back and sighing in pleasure.

The sensation of him inside you was foreign but enjoyable. The stretch and pressure were a bit overwhelming, especially after such an intense release, but the noises he made and the feeling of his body covering yours were enough to distract you. You could see yourself growing to love it as much as he seemed to love it, and that thought elated you.

You smiled despite yourself and even breathed a joyful laugh as he curled a hand around one of your thighs, changing the angle at which he thrusted into your. 

“My love,” Cregan groaned as he grew more frantic, his hips snapping against yours with mounting urgency. Your nails pressed into the skin of his back as he hit a spot deep inside you, making you sob in pleasure, and both the sharp feeling and the sound drove him over the edge.

He hissed and cursed in the pillow next to your head as he spilled inside your in hot, rhythmic pulses. He moaned his pleasure without restraint, unable to keep himself silent, but it didn’t seem to deter you. Instead you tightened your hold around him, cradling him in your softness and heat.

As a bone-deep satisfaction and relief spread in his body, he pulled out carefully and lowered himself on the bed next to you and you followed him, curling a leg over his waist. As the two of you laid on your side, facing each other, you started laughing, joyful and carefree.

Your face was flushed a bright pink and your eyes were wet, and your genuine joy made his chest swell with happiness and pride. The whole wing of the castle his chambers were in had probably heard your passionate coupling, but at this moment Cregan couldn’t bring himself to care.

He was yours, and you were his.

Author's Note: This work was taken from my series The Silver Princess, edited into a reader-insert and turned into a one-shot (for readers who find reader-inserts more immersive). I hope you enjoyed it!

Please reblog to show love - this is how we keep stories alive on this site ♡

Cregan taglist: @bbvrnskycspn @kateris-world @elleclairez @watercolorskyy @praline357 @sandronebabyy @whodis-26 @elle-28 @mari0302 @hb8301 @flawroses @random-shit-i-like-2@heavenly1927@thegeminithrone @vixemi @rockerchick05 @maniccrystalhippie @melsunshine @siimiasoi

[drakoneve]

A Dragon's Wrath

Request: hello hello, how are u? Idk if u write for Harwin Strong, but I'm obsessed with this man, so if you're not taking requests for him, forgive me for being rude. So I wanted to make a request where the reader is the younger sister of Rhaenyra Targaryen, also daughter of Aemma and Viserys. She married Strong, and lives a dream life with him (they love each other very much, so please, Rhaenyra's children are not his 🫠) and the legitimacy of their children was questioned, of course the queen would never imagine that Harwin had a birthmark, which none of his brothers inherited from Lyonel, he being the only one to have it and ALL THE CHILDREN OF HARWIN AND THE PRINCESS HAVE THAT SAME BRAND, JUST LIKE THE FATHER'S. Maybe I went on too long and was stupid, sorry, you can do whatever comes to your brilliant mind, I just really wish the legitimacy of the children of the OC was proved by legal means and gave no right to be questioned even by the queen. Thank you for your attention, I understand if you don't want to do it 🤍.

pairing: harwin strong x targ!fem!reader

word count: 3k

warnings: mentions of childbirth, alicent being snakey

a/n: first harwin fic, harwin girlies lmk what you think!! for the sake of this fic, Rhae's children have Targaryen silver hair

In all the years the pair were married, King Viserys and Queen Aemma were blessed by the Mother with only two healthy, living babes. First born has been your elder sister Rhaenyra, whom you followed two years later.

Growing up the two of you remained close through your lessons and dragon riding, but as Rhaenyra grew older she would end up spending more and more time with her lady in waiting Alicent Hightower. Rhaenyra and Alicent being two of the only other girls your age in the Red Keep and their refusal to have anyone join them in their activities, you felt somewhat dejected by your sister's budding friendship.

This is what led you to find solace in the Red Keep's training yards. Day after day you watched knights, and knights in training, battle it out in the yard while you worked on your studies. It was there in the yard you saw him for the first time- your future husband, Ser Harwin Strong.

At the time you had no idea you would end up marrying him, of course, but you should have.

You'd heard all about Ser Harwin Breakbones, son of Lyonel Strong, one of your father's most loyal council men. Harwin's reputation truly preceded him and was rightfully earned.

You hadn't noticed it at the time, but you'd abonded your books and parchments in the stands by your supervising Septa as you approached the rail separating the stands and the training yard in an attempt for a clearer view.

Harwin stood taller than his opponents, shoulders back, sword in hand ready to defend himself. He watched his opponents carefully, calculating their next move. His short brown curls were halfway pulled back out of his face with a tie, exposing Harwin's jawline, much to your own enjoyment.

That afternoon you watched Harwin take down man after man without so much as a proper blow to his own body. He wielded his sword as if it were an extension of his arm in fluid, rushing movements.

When he had finally finished for the evening you applauded him, finally grabbing his attention as he had held yours.

"You are quite the swordsman, Ser Harwin!" you call out to him. "I feel much better knowing there are knights as skilled as you protecting my home."

Harwin grinned largely at your praise, twirling his sword in his hand for show as he approached the rail you supported yourself on. "I mean only to ensure you are safe at all times, my princess."

You smiled down at him now that he was almost right below you. "Well I have no doubts of your capabilities, Ser. I have a feeling you will do great things here, should you wish."

"You are too kind, princess," he chuckles. Then he looks up at the sky, towards the sun on it's way to set. "It is getting quite late, princess. Shall I escort you back to your chambers?"

The excitement and hopefulness in his face brought butterflies to your stomach.

"I would like nothing more, Ser."

After that night it was scarce the two of you weren't side by side, which all but pushed your fathers to wed the two of you.

Now you stood in those same stands, watching Harwin in the yard yet again, but now he's joined by your two eldest sons. Maevor has just passed his tenth and second name day, and Daeragon his ninth. Your two youngest babes, however remained with you and your maid and close friend, Malina.

Malina had first been assigned to you after your marriage to Harwin, and she'd stood loyally by your side as you birthed all of your children.

Malina's elder brother Ellion, a knight of the City Watch, stood closeby on the order of Harwin. He'd been one of Harwin's best men as you'd heard him compliment the younger knight on many occasions in the past. Being a Targaryen princess and wife of the Lord Commander in such uncertain times in the house of the dragon could be dangerous, and Harwin meant only to protect you and your babes.

Your first daughter, eldest of your month old twins, Naelora cooed softly in your arms as she played with the loose sleeve ends of your dress. You indulged her for a moment, raising your arm to lift the sleeve from her reach to tease her.

She gurgles in laughter, stretching her chubby little arms to grasp your sleeve once more.

The moment is over by the approach of Queen Alicent's lady in waiting, Talya.

"My apologies, Princess," Talya bows to you first. "But the Queen has requested Malina's presence for this afternoon."

Why would the queen need Malina specifically? Surely she could find another maid within the Keep to aid her?

Malina looks to you, pale brown eyes silently asking to stay. This isn't the first time something like this has happened, of course. After giving birth to your second son Daeragon, Queen Alicent began requesting Malina's presence more often.

Still sore from your labors, Harwin had taken the day off to aid you and watch over Maevor to allow you to rest.

You watched happily from your spot on the bed as Harwin held little Daeragon, to introduce him to his elder brother. Maevor, a boy of three years, stood as high as he could on his toes to get a peek over Harwin's bulk of an arm to get a glimpse of his brother.

Then your chamber doors open and Malina returns to your side after serving the queen all day. She approaches the foot of your bed, hands clasped together in front of her with her eyes cast slightly downwards.

"Malina, you needn't worry about me," you begin to dismiss her kindly. "I'm sure the Queen-"

But Malina shakes her head, brown curls following her, still refusing to meet your gaze. "I need to speak with you, Princess. And you, Lord Harwin, in privacy."

You share a concerned look with Harwin, who's joyfulness has been replaced with worry. In the time she's served you Malina had never been afraid to look you in your eyes.

He wastes no time escorting Maevor to his chambers just off your own, and placing little Daeragon in his crib next to your side of the bed. Harwin returns and stands dutifully on the other side of you as if protecting you.

"What is it?" you ask, and pat the bed in front of you for Malina to sit.

Malina makes no move to sit on your bed. "My princess," her voice wavers nervously. "I have served your for near half a decade now, and I know you to be the most true and kind person I have ever had the pleasure of serving-"

"Malina," Harwin interrupts sternly. "Speak it plain, what have you heard of my wife?"

Your heart thudded hard in your chest as you instinctively reached for Harwin's hand. He intertwined his fingers with your in an attempt to comfort you.

Malina takes in a deep breath before finally looking up to meet your gaze. "Queen Alicent requested my presence after your labors today for questioning."

"Questioning?" you tilted your head slightly. "About what?"

"Your sons," she answered swiftly. "She... She wanted to know if this babe looked like Harwin or..."

Harwin pulled his hand from yours, placing it on the hilt of his sword. "Or who, Malina?"

"Ellion," Malina whispers. "The Queen seems to believe that you spend too much time with Ellion, princess. She asked if I knew of any relations between the two of you, but I swore to her you are deathly loyal and would never-"

You move from your spot on the bed to bring yourself to stand. Harwin aids you as you steady yourself, then reach for Malina's forearm.

"You needn't explain yourself to me, Malina," you assure her. "I know you to be true to me, and you are one of the kindest ladies I know. You should go, retire for the night. We shall do the same."

Malina apologizes the whole way out your chamber doors despite your assurances. Harwin begins to strip his armor as you settle yourself back into bed.

Daeragon's crib sat just off the side of your bed, close enough for you to have a view of the newborn's little face.

Harwin soon joins your side clad in his nightclothes. You can feel his gaze on you, but you refuse to meet his gaze. Emotions ran rampant through you. You knew it must be the strain and high emotions of you and your new babe surviving the day, but you couldn't stop the rush.

It's when the tears begin to fall from your lilac eyes that Harwin wraps you up in his arms and pulls you back against him.

"My love," he cooes. "Sweet girl, do not worry yourself with the opinion of a misguided, jealous woman."

He raises his right hand to show off the inside of his right wrist, showing off the small, discolored patch of skin he inherited from his father, Lord Lyonel. A small, almost missable, seemingly insignificant patch of skin both Maevor and Daeragon had inherited.

Harwin leans in close, placing his lips against the shell of your ear. "We know I have fathered your sons, my love. Do not worry yourself with this, it is not worth it."

"You're right, husband," you hum, settling into your husband's arms for the night. "I'm just glad he's here, and healthy."

He kisses your temple softly. "You did that. You made him the healthy babe he is."

As you promised Harwin that night, you did your best to ignore the rumors pursued by Alicent. In the years following Daeragon's birth you'd heard more whispers within the court questioning your son's parentage, though you said nothing.

You tried your best to pay them no mind, other days they really got to you. But for now you simply obliged to the queen's wishes.

"Ser Ellion," you motioned your friend forward with one hand. He looked much like his sister as they shared the same nose, and brown curly hair, though Ellion's eyes were an elegant green. Still, no man in the Seven Kingdoms could come close to Harwin in your eyes.

"Would you mind taking my sweet Raemor from your sister? I'm afraid I cannot tend to both babes at once."

Ellion nods and leans down slightly to make a peaceful transition from his sister's arms. He wore an awkward grin on his face as he cradles the blanket wrapped babe the best he could in a full suit of armor. "It is an honor, Princess. Though I'm not certain he will be comfortable against such steel."

Malina bows and takes Talya's arm in her own. You know Malina's dislike for the woman, and you can only guess she's done this to ensure Talya is led away from you and your family.

You shake your head in response to Ellion yet keep your attention on your daughter in your arms. "It is no issue, Harwin holds them in his armor every day. He has with each of them."

A moment passes in silence and you look up to your husband and eldest children. Maevor's brown curls are just long enough on the top to be tied back while leaving some down thus his hair is relatively tame. Daeragon's, however, is tousled and absolutely untame.

Both boys are breathing heavier now, their cheeks flushed. But the beautiful, pure look of excitement on their faces melted your heart. They knew their father was Lord Commander of the City Watch, and that Harwin worked hard for his family at his very important job, and they treasured their father for it.

After taking them to see Harwin train with some of the new recruits of the City Watch two fortnights ago had been a mistake on your part for the boys had not shut up about training themselves. At first you had been hesitant, of course other Targaryen princes had been taught to fight years before your boys, but you were afraid of the things they might encounter so instead you encouraged them to spend time in the libraries and their respective dragons.

As a result the boys were extremely well read and years ahead of their pupils in their studies. Maevor is practically fluent in Valyrian now, and Daeg is not far behind.

Their insistent pleading had wore on you though, and you gave in to them with Harwin's reassurance he would personally oversee their training. In the end, Maevor and Daeg's immediate joy at being granted permission made it worth it in the end.

Harwin and the boys were cleaning their training gear and putting it away.

Ellion clears his throat, pulling your attention from your family. "I fear something is happening, Princess."

"What do you mean?" you ask, standing from your seat and brushing your skirts with one hand.

"I have been approached twice now," he explains carefully, watching who was sat in the immediate area. The closest people sat on the complete opposite of the training yard in those stands. "Once by a fellow knight, and then by Talya herself. I only mention this as a warning, Princess."

Harwin and the boys are nearly there and you don't want the boys to hear such slander.

"Thank you, Ellion," you force a smile to give him. "And I apologize for what has been whispered around court these last years, but I plan now to make it right."

Harwin approaches you then, slinking one arm around your waist as he presses a kiss to your temple. "Come, my love, the boys need to bathe and our littlest ones must be ready for their nap."

Maevor perks up, "Mother, may I carry Naelora back to your chambers?"

Your hearts melts at the question, Maevor ever the doting older brother. You grant your son permission, gently reminding him to hold her head carefully.

"And I shall take Raemor from you, Ellion. I thank you for your services for today."

He bows respectfully, "Tis my duty, and an honor."

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ ✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ ✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ ✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ 

Once the twins are down for their naps and the older boys off to the bathhouse with Malina you informed Harwin of everything that had transpired this afternoon while he trained with the boys.

His thick brows furrowed almost immediately, angre written upon his face. Harwin had shed his armor by now, settling for more comfortable leathers for the evening. His sword however, stayed attached to his hip with one hand gripping the hilt.

"I am sick of hearing your name and reputation tarnished by fools!" Harwin seethes, angrier than you've ever seen him. "I have half a mind to slay them all down for even thinking such things of our children, of you."

You shake your head softly, approaching him to cup his face. You press your forehead against his own, something you've always done to comfort him.

"I have a plan, my dutiful husband," you assure him. "I happen to have a wonderful relationship with my father by law, if you must know. And I just so happen to know that a Small Council meeting starts in mere minutes."

Harwin eases a little, but now he's wrought with confusion.

"What have you planned, my love?"

You smile mischievously and press a sweet kiss to your husband's lips. "Just you wait husband, I first require our Maevor."

The boys are back from their baths by now as you can hear them bustling about Daeragon's chambers, which is the adjoining room to your own.

You knock before you enter as you always do, to the sight of your boys on Daeg's bed, books sprawled open before them.

"What have we there, byka zaldrīzoti (little dragons)?" you ask as you join them on the bed.

Daeg pulls the leather bound book to cover his lap to show you. "The Histories of Old Valyria!" he chimes. "Maevor was reading it to me in Valyrian."

You stroke Daeg's plush cheek with one hand, still able to see the babe he used to be in his face, and take Maevor's hand in your other.

"He's smart, your brother," you 'whisper' to Daeragon. "I would study hard, my Prince."

Maevor breaks his hand away to rustle his brother's brown curls. "Muña's teasing, Daeg. You are smarter now than I was your age."

You swoon, heart melting at the relationship between your boys. "Oh my sweet Maev," you kiss his temple. "Might I borrow you for a awhile, I have something important to discuss with the Small Council and I need your help."

Maevor's brown eyes widened slightly, "Of course, mother."

"Have no fear, sweet boy, I have a plan."

And you sure did. Once you explained what you could to Maevor while sparing his innocence best you could, he'd been more than willing to join you.

You squatted down to be closer to your son's level, Harwin by your side. "You are special, Maevor," you explain to him. You grab Harwin's right hand and Maevor's to put them side by side. Both birthmarks were near identical save for Harwin's being larger and slightly darker than his son's. "Each of my babes have this mark, all from Harwin, who inherited it from your grandsire, Lyonel. Do you understand?"

He nods, but says nothing. Harwin crouches down next to you, reaching to cup his eldest son's face.

"I wish we did not have to burden you with such a task, my boy," Harwin admits grimly. "I want you to know we are only doing this because we love you children, and I love your muña too much to let people speak of her in such a way any longer."

So the three of you set off, accompanied by Ellion as Malina had stayed behind to watch the twins and Daeragon.

Despite the Kingsguard outside the meeting room of the Small Council, you march right past them and push the doors open yourself.

Each member of the council turns to you now silenced. Otto sat up straighter in his seat as he looked towards his daughter. Alicent looked shocked to see the group of you, and you noted her visible nervousness.

Lyonel stands and comes to Harwin's side, demanding answers most likely. Harwin begins whispering in his father's ear, explaining the situation.

"Sister," Rhaenyra stands, hand placed over her round stomach. "What is wrong?"

You cross your arms over your chest, eyes blazing as you glare at the Hightowers at the table. "Since the birth of my Daeragon I have endured vile slanders against not only myself, but my marriage, and every one of my children."

Alicent shifts uncomfortably in her seat.

"Princess," Otto pokes in. "I can assure you-"

"Assure what?" you snap, slamming down on the table to lean towards the Hand. "Alicent has been the one to pull my ladies from me just after giving birth to insinuate my babes have been fathered by knight of the City Watch who is not my husband. Even now, a month after having my twins, I am approached with more blasphemy. No more."

You usher Maevor forward, who happily extends his right arm before you have to ask. Harwin joins you, followed by Lyonel, both of whom put out their wrists as well.

Alicent's mouth widens in shock before she grits her teeth. Even Larys' wears a look of shock as he checks his own wrists, coming up with nothing.

"I am tired of my children being put under scrutiny," you say finally. "And of my loyalty to my husband being questioned. Now, if you all do not mind, I would like to enjoy the rest of the day with my family undisturbed."

You step back from the table to leave when Rhaenyra wraps you up in a hug. "I am so sorry, sister," she whispers.

You assure her with a simple kiss to the side of her head before reaching for Maevor's hand.

The boy is practically bouncing on his feet as the two of you make your way back to your chambers, both Harwin and Ellion following close behind.

"She is very scary, your wife," Ellion admits to Harwin lowly. "I would to want to be on the receiving end of her wrath."

He only chuckles, "No, nor would I."

[absurduty]

SAINTLIKE | AEMOND TARGARYEN X READER

a b r i d g e m e n t : when you, now a Lannister, return to King’s Landing, Aemond ensures you won’t leave.

TW: smut, groping, mentions of anal, penetration, oral (fem receiving), degradation mixed with praise???, creampie, breeding, slight cum eating

CREDITS FOR THE AEMOND PICTURE TO ultravi0l3t on Pinterest!

TAGLIST: @toodlesxcuddles , @imsoshygirl

“Gods, Helaena,” you sigh softly, spraying your perfume on your dress. your slender fingers continue to spray it on your neck, behind your ears and the inside of your wrists. “It feels strangely comforting to get away from all that gold up in Casterly Rock.”

“I’ve missed you, sister.” she said in response, sitting on your bed with her eyes focused on her sewing. "But Aemond missed you more.”

“I'm sure he did,” you say softly, biting your cheek to prevent a smile from spreading. your eyes flickered to the bed Helaena was sitting on. the chambers Aemond had snuck a thousand times in to get some comfort to sleep. “Do you have any-"

“The dragon eats the lion,” your little sister suddenly interrupted you, looking up from her sewings. “The lion is blinded by pride, but the dragon is blinded by rage.”

you dropped the perfume on the floor, dumbfounded by Helaena's interruption.

“Come again?” you asked softly, careful as to not undermine her. you knew better than to undermine her sayings after the time she proclaimed Aemond had to close an eye. “What are you talking about, sweet sister?”

she only hummed, and sprayed some perfume to the back of your knees as you lifted up your dress.

"I will see you at supper, sister." she dismissed your question with a gentle tone, standing up.

you bid her goodbye, your confusion present to what it meant. However, you shook it off. Your boys were with the Septa, Aemond was practicing his swordsmanship, Aegon was doing god knows what...

you readied your hair again, making certain the curls at the bottom were luscious enough. you then headed out to the halls, your flat flootwear tapping against the ground with each step you take.

“Aunt y/n!” you heard a masculine voice call out, causing you to turn your head at the voice. you recognised the two brown-haired princes instantly.

“Nephews,” you smile warmly, embracing Lucerys first. you rubbed his back and asked him how he was doing, to which he delightfully replied that he’s officially betrothed to Rhaena.

you rise up again and turn to the eldest, Jacaerys. you could have sworn you saw him blush, but you knew better than to act as if you know the truth. you engulfed him into a hug, your scent rubbing off on him. “How have you been?”

he blinked twice, his mouth slightly parted at seeing you again. “Good, auntie.” he said softly, attempting to stand tall and noble.

“Good.” you nodded respectfully, trying to brush them off politely. “If you’ll excuse me, I have some urgent business with your mother.”

they both nodded, and scurried off to the courtyard, you knew that if you mentioned you’d be visiting your dear brother’s chamber, all you’d hear are subtle sighs of annoyance and whines disguised as uncertainty.

you treated down the grand halls again, finally reaching his chambers. there were no guards, strangely enough, and you took the liberty of opening the door, entering, and shutting it behind you.

“Sister.” his voice startles you, causing you to turn around. “What brings you here?”

“Aemond,” you smiled, trying not to let your eyes flicker to his tunic less form, stepping a few steps closer to look him up in the eyes. “You are attending supper, are you not?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” he asked gravelly, his hands sliding down to the small of your back. you tried to avoid it, but you felt a small sense of arousal affecting your thoughts. “After all, nothing more than a supper with… family.”

“Aemond,” you whisper, as if he had just said a sentence condemning the gods. “No matter how you think about it they are still Rhaenyra’s. Half Targaryen.”

“Is that what she told you after you confronted her?” he asked huskily, his hands sliding down to your hips. “That her fucking a strong was just, and that they’re still half-fucking-Valyrian?”

“Aemond, stop,” you say in a hushed tone, feeling his other hand run across your stomach area, covered by the dress, unable to feel your full breasts due to the material of your dress. “We shouldn’t. My lord husband-”

he broke off your sentence by pressing his lips upon yours, his tall figure looking over you as if it was a shadow, your face in his hands as if it were a precious gem needing to be cradled.

“Your craven of a husband is out fucking whores, not seeing the absolute fucking beauty he has in front of him,” he murmured between kisses, his slender hands working to unbutton your dress. “But it’s fine, I suppose. You were meant to be mine anyways. Meant to be carrying my children.”

you tried not to kiss back, you really did, but his hand crept up the second your dress was dropped, and kneaded your breasts. then he took advantage of your little gasp as to slip his tongue inside. you let out soft moans, your hand flying to his hair.

“Perfect, rōva mandia,” he coos, his hand once again switching positions to rub at your asscheeks and hips. “After 4 sons, you've remained sensitive. That cunt of a Lannister must have not pleased you enough, has he?”

the only thing you could do was shake your head, placing little kisses on his neck and face which in all honesty, were adorable to him. your eyes looked at him so purely, yet he couldn’t see you as anything other than a vixen born to seduce him.

“Be a dear and show your little brother what he has missed,” he whispered in your ear, and you obliged rather quickly, crawling onto the bed, your tight little back-hole showing for him.

“Hm,” was all he said as he took his time stepping, coming to rub one of your ass cheeks as he took a look at your tight asshole. “We'll have countless nights to do that.”

you were about to open your mouth, before he tenderly turned your body over, leaning in to lick the corners of your lips, purposely drooling some of his saliva into your mouth.

“The gods have made us be together, for they know how we belong.” he murmured in between planting kisses on your jaw and throat. “You belong in black and red. I’ll give you the gold anytime you desire it.”

you grow even wetter at his words, pushing your hips up to rub yourself against his already rock-hard cock prominent through his breeches. the feeling did not last long, as one of his hands moved from gripping the sheet next to your head, to pinning your hips down.

“Oh, do you desire me now, rōva mandia?” he whispered, brushing your nose against his. “I’ve grown, sister. I am a man now. A man worthy of you.”

his lips kissed the top of your breasts, before latching onto your nipple, swirling his tongue around it while he kneaded and pinched the other with his hand.

“Ae-aemond,” you whine, your eyes trained on his bulge. you looked up at him and you couldn’t look more possibly beautiful than now. “Fuck me, please.”

“Patience, sister,” he rubbed your stomach, his other kneading your tits. you whined but quickly stopped once he brushed some hair out of your face. “You’ll be given my cock, but beforehand I'll have to taste your sweet essence I’ve been thinking about for years.”

“Aemond, I need it,” you begged him, rubbing your foot all over his crotch to rile him up. “I need you.”

he only let out a satisfied hum, kissing each toe and trailing up to your calves, knees, thighs up until his big hands spread them apart.

you remained too aroused to properly function, letting out a deep breath when his tongue only took one lick of your folds. what followed after was his thumb rubbing your sensitive pussy, having you let out fast breaths.

“Are you not used to having anything other than your husband’s cock touching your cunny?” he asked mockingly, placing a kiss on your wet folds. “Of course not, my sweet sister deserves to get fucked like a whore, and treated like a princess.”

you let out a whine at his words, practically thrusting your hips into his face. he licked at your folds and used the muscles of his tongue to fuck into you pleasurably. he let out a few grunts himself as if he was tasting the sweetest essence ever known. his hand rubbed up and down your thigh as you wrapped them around his head.

he continued tongue-fucking you, occasionally stopping to suck on your sensitive bud, his big hand continued to caress and massage your thighs, slurping up your sweet taste. you let out the most melodious moans he has ever known.

“Valonqar,” you moaned out, thrusting your hips against his face. he sucked and swirled his tongue against your clit. your muscles clench around him tighter and tighter, feeling something build up in your stomach. your body tensed up as his tongue gave his final thrusts.

“Come for me, rōva mandia, come hard for your brother,” he murmured, his tongue making his final trust on your stimulated clit. “Scream my name.”

you finally bursted, your orgasm washing over your. half of the juice shot down Aemond's throat and the other half drooled down his chin. he eagerly slurped up your juices, before rubbing his cum-covered chin against your breasts, rubbing the cum off on your breasts.

“My sister, my love,” he coos, kissing the shell of your ear. “The best woman to give my cock to.”

he got rid of his breeches and pulled out his hardened member, throbbing with pre-cum. he let out a soft hiss as it rubbed against your entrance, teasing you endlessly.

“We should stop,” you say softly. “Anyone could come i- ah!”

you let out a gasp as he began to began to circle your sensitive button with the tip of his erection. his hands were placed on your waist, pinning you down.

“Let them,” he murmured close to your lips, his unoccupied hand coming up to trace his thumb over your bottom lip. “Let them see how a dragon has claimed another dragon. As it should be.”

you moan loudly, feeling him push his fat head into your throbbing pussy. his cock was much better than your lord husband’s, thrusting slowly into your tight heat. his face cane close again to plant suck and kiss on your jawline, holding your face to the side.

“My sister is too beautiful,” he murmured in between occasional quiet grunts, feeling you deeper with each trust. “The only cunt that’s perfect for me.”

he could feel you tightening around him, your sweet eyes looking up at him. his one eye met yours, locking eyes intensely. your gasps and moans, accompanied by clapping sounds lingered around the room. his hand creeped down to knead your breasts, brushing a thumb over your hard nipple. his hips went upwards to thrust deeper. he could hear those telltale cries of ecstasy, and basked in it.

“You wish for me to put a babe inside of you?” he asks mockingly, rubbing your cheek against his hand. “Of course you do. You’re mine, and once that husband of yours knows his place, we will be wed.”

you clenched around him, juices already wetting his cock inside of you. your eyes roll to the back of your head as his hand rubbed your clit. you looked up at him once again, and he looked majestic and vulgarly gorgeous. his hair sticking to his forehead, not as straight anymore now that it’s wet. you were a sight for sore eyes to him as well, your dark hair messy and disheveled, your cheeks red and your neck scattered in hickeys.

after a few moments, you came undone, spilling against his cock. not soon after, he slowed his thrust and shot his load inside of you, a part of him forever embedded within your womb.

“Too beautiful,” he murmured, planting kisses all over your breasts and collarbone. “You have been mine since we were children. You were meant to be my betrothed. Tis I who has always loved you.”

you only smiled, but even that made his heart flutter and his cock twitch. he slowly engulfed you into a kiss, slipping his cock outside of you.

“My children have taken a liking to you,” you smile, rubbing your nose against his. “I’d love for you to stay by our side.”

“Which I will do,” he replied, his big hand rubbing your stomach. “After all, they ought to meet one of their own.”

you were about to attempt to stand up on shaky legs, but his veined hands cupped your face and slowly pinned you back down.

“Do not clean yourself up, rōva mandia,” his melodic voice ringed. “Let us depart to supper with my seed, deep inside of you. The bastard might realise how little chance he makes with you.”

[faetreides]

summary: aemond targaryen x afab childhood friend wife!reader

cw: intentional heavier valyrian usage (i used translators so if i’m wrong, please just pretend that i invented the language and i’m right), slight breath play-ish, reader isn’t related to aemond in any way (they’re just from a different royal family from elsewhere , visited as a kid and met aemond), pregnant!reader, the breeding and praise kinks aren’t explicitly stated but they’re more in his actions, flashback mention of teen aemond having a typical teen boy reaction and getting a boner bc he saw his crush bent over, aemond drinks reader’s breast milk like a vampire and cums, this au-ish storyline has been a long standing maladaptive daydream but this is just a kinktober post, stuck in the wall was also supposed to be included but i cheated and just mentioned it/same with the waxplay lmao, implied wax play later on, kinda unsafe and unrealistic sex (obviously), written with no thoughts

wc: 1.4k+

block & move on if uncomfortable !!

do not repost, translate, or give ai my works

kinktober masterlist

It’s been six moons since you discovered that you were with child. Your husband, Aemond Targaryen, had been smug beyond belief when the maester estimated that you conceived on your wedding night.

You were not prepared for how your body would transform in the coming months. You have to empty your bladder more often than not and a burning in your chest keeps you awake. One of the more annoying problems was the tremendous ache in your breasts.

Aemond awoke to your quiet groans, sitting up in bed was not easy for you these days.

With a yawn, not even bothering to put on his eyepatch, he sat up in bed beside you.

“What have I told you about making good use of me if you need something, raqiarzy? (beloved). You should still be resting.” He chides you.

“How can I sleep when my tits are full to bursting, Aemond?” You reply with a slightly bratty tone, and he gives you a brisk pat on your behind to settle you. It was gentler than his strikes usually are, he considers your health with every action after all.

He sighs and lumbers out of bed to light a candle, as naked as he was when he succumbed to slumber. The newfound influx of hormones guides your attention to hone in on his cock flopping in the air as he walks back to bed. The dried wax from your love making last night still stubbornly clung to both of your bodies. You would definitely need to take another bath in the morning.

“Ao līs daor emagon ryptan issa se ēlī jēda, issa jorrāelagon. (you must not have heard me the first time, my love)” Aemond reminds you, unable to stop you from getting up and sitting in front of your vanity.

If your husband did not know better, one would think that you were opposed to any night time…. activites. The tired amusement in your eyes beckons him forward, but he stays lounging on the bed and watching you run your fingers through your hair. Aemond resorts to teasing to obtain your attention, adoring how you always fall for it hook, line, and sinker.

“It feels as if it were only yesterday that we reunited all those years ago, you had gotten lost and ended up falling in a hole in the city’s walls on your visit.”

Your hands pause on their way to grab your hair brush, casting a weak glare towards him out of the corner of your left eye. You clear your throat but you make no attempts to hide your embarrassment at the thought of the past. Aemond holds eye contact with you through the mirror, resting the hand not holding his head up on his hip.

“I was six and ten, wallowing in nausea and nerves. Do not pretend that you were faring much better, husband. We had not laid eyes on each other for nearly a decade.”

You do not mention the sizable tent in his trousers he had carried around after he helped you out of the wall.

“At that time I was convinced the way I would see you again would be in death, there was only relief for me.” He says firmly, and you shyly peel your gaze away from the mirror.

As exhausted and drained as you are, your heart melts at the unwavering affection in his words. Aemond clearly grows bored of playing cat and mouse, because suddenly his torso is pressing flush against your back.

“If you can’t sleep, at least allow me to distract you from your discomfort.”

He cups the front of your neck and gently squeezes, you huff but understand his unspoken request and arch your back against him.

“Refrain from teasing me, valzȳrys (husband), for tonight at least.” You lean your head back and look up at him as his other hand drifts down to tug the bodice of your nightgown down.

Your slip of Valyrian earns you another quick squeeze. You gasp and Aemond seizes the opportunity to gather enough saliva in his mouth to spit into yours. Your throat bobs under his hand as you swallow and he pinches your nipple in appreciation.

“Hmm. I will do my very best, darling.”

You have learned by now that such assurances mean tragically little.

Aemond takes stock of your chest, sliding the hand cupping your throat to be able to grope at both of your breasts. He rolls them around in his palms and kneads them as if he were in the kitchen handling dough. You moan at the sheer relief and his sapphire eye seems to sparkle at you in some kind of wink.

“These heavy tits must be remarkably sore, so full and with no one to drain them of their milk.”

You nod helplessly, more than ready for him to abandon his games and do just that.

One of his hands temporarily abandons your breast to push your head back down so you’d look at the mirror. You sit there, enraptured in the sight of milk beading to the tips of your nipples and leaking out.

Aemond catches it as well and groans, pinching at your nipples a bit meaner and squeezing your tits tightly to coax more milk out.

“Gevie (beautiful) , all this food for our future dragon. You are glowing brighter than any moon, raqiarzy (beloved).”

Your cheeks heat with embarrassment, never being able to take compliments with grace, and gaze down at your lap. A firm hand sinks into your hair and pulls it so you return your gaze to your sticky tits. Aemond swipes his fingers through the milky trails running down your tits. He whorishly brings them to his mouth and sucks them dry, smirking at you in the mirror as he grunts.

Your ornate vanity chair is swiftly turned around, and your lap is drowned in white hair when he falls to his knees before you.

“Aemond, what are you-“ Your words are cut off by a greedy mouth latched around your right nipple. Your husband is being mindful of his teeth and starts to rapidly suckle.

His free hand pets at the hair above your mound absentmindedly. An agonized groan floats through the air as his sucking picks up speed. You clutch onto the back of his head with both hands and run your fingers through his fine hair.

“Gods, Aemond, thank you thank you thank you. Such a devoted husband, I love you.” You do not say it often, your shy nature comes into play regarding that sort of thing, but the immensity of it must take a toll on your husband.

His groans are muffled by your teats and you have to swipe away stray drops of milk that dribble out of his mouth as he drains you.

Somewhere along the way he switches to your other breast when the previous one had nothing more to give. Your cunt howls in need for additional stimulation but the feeling of your chest pain fading away urges you to let your dearly beloved have his fill of your body. There are times in which you say it is his right.

You notice that Aemond has been grinding his weeping cock against the floor. He appears to have synced his thrusts to his suckling, and seeing how drunk he is off your milk meant for his future child makes you just as ravenous as his cock is for a hole to fuck.

Your arms wrap around Aemond in a fierce hug, surrendering yourself to your cunt’s way of thinking. Even if he wanted to pull away, your grip gave him no means to do so. His face is squished into your tits and his eye rolls back, continuing his suckling and writhing.

He rips his mouth away from you to loudly exclaim, and you are startled by how his mouth forms an ‘O’ shape and his form locks up. Aemond weakly thrusts his hips through his apparent peak, the burst of fluids spewing out onto the floor. A few spurts of it lands on your legs, and in the depths of your depravity you eagerly scoop it up to shove in your mouth.

You run your fingers through Aemond’s hair again to assist him in coming back down, and once he does you are quickly swooped up in his arms and delicately thrown back onto the bed.

“Do not confuse a curse for a blessing, issa dāria (my queen). My cock is likelier to grow wings and take flight than it is to run out of seed to stuff this puffy cunny with. Sir sagon nykeā sȳz ābrazȳrys (now be a good wife), and endure it for me, hm?”

You will be greeting the approaching dawn with countless more pieces of dried wax.

[gtgbabie0]

heyy!! i saw that your reqs are open ans i was wondering if i could ask for an "cregan stark x fem reader" in which the reader is giving birth but she ends up having complications during the birth (blood loss or the baby simply taking too long to come out) and she ends up being unconscious for a while... if that's not ok please ignore it, thank you!! <3

-Cregan Stark x reader

{The birth of your son Brandon Stark was nothing but stressful, and it makes Cregan face some horrible realisations}

CW// descriptions of blood/ reader is giving birth

Hope you enjoy my lovelies!! 💕

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

It was early in the morning when it began. You were eating breakfast with Cregan when the sharp shooting pain erupted through your lower stomach, it took your breath away and you couldn’t help but reach over to clutch onto his arm with a gasp.

He stops mid-sentence as he watches your face contort with an awful look of discomfort, panic rising in his chest when your eyes meet his.

“My love? What is it?- what happened?” He asks, standing up from his chair. He helps you up, wincing as you scream out in pain. Cregan guides you to the bed his hand soothing your lower back in hopes it’ll relieve your discomfort, but his attempts are fruitless when he notices the tears that fall from your eyes and his heart drops.

You shake your head, squeezing your husband's hands as you try your best to ignore the blood that pools between your legs, “The maesters- please” You gasp between breaths and Cregan doesn’t need to be told twice as he rushes out the door.

It isn’t long before people start to barge into the room, orders being thrown around as the midwives lay you down on the bed pressing a cold wet towel on your forehead.

Your body aches as a hot flush wash over you, and every sensation is far too overwhelming, it certainly doesn’t help that your skin is sticky with sweat. You can hear Cregan outside your shared bedchambers before walking through the wooden door, much to the dismay of the nurses.

“What is happening?- please” his voice is strained and he can’t bear to look down at you, the sound of you hyperventilating is enough to make him feel sick to his stomach.

The maester looks up at him, “She has started her labour early lord Stark” he takes a deep breath, watching the worry that deepens within Cregan’s eyes, “You must let us work”

Hours have passed since then, the late afternoon sun is peaking behind the curtains and Cregan hasn’t left your side as your clammy hands squeeze his. He chokes back a sob every time you let out an agonising cry, your face pressed into the sweat-soaked pillow as you grit your teeth.

The nurses tell you when to breathe then push, breathe then push and you know for a fact that your body cannot handle much more pain, exhaustion is creeping through your already weak body.

“Almost there lady Stark, almost there” one of the nurses promises, as she switches your cold rag for a new one, and Cregan doesn’t miss the worry in her eyes as she glances down to the blood-soaked sheets beneath you.

“You hear that my love? Almost there” He leans down to press a kiss to your damp hairline, pushing back the wet strands.

His thumb caresses the space under your eye, wiping your tears away as he holds your cheek. “I can’t- Cregan I can’t” you sigh, trying your best to smile up at him.

He shakes his head, pressing his forehead against yours “Yes you can. You are the strongest woman I know” he whispers.

You nod, taking a deep breath before squeezing your eyes shut, pushing one last time as the nurses and maesters all shout praises. “A boy!” You hear someone gasp but they seem miles away, and then you hear your baby cry as the midwives move quickly to clean him, wrapping him up in a clean blanket.

The noise of the room seems to bleed together, muffled as if you were underwater and with it goes your sight, then everything seems to stop and for a moment, for the first time in the last seven hours, there is clarity and the ache in your body ebbs away as your eyes flutter close.

The moment your grip on Cregan's hand loosens his heart stops, and the sight of your limp body covered in sweat makes his whole world come crashing down. He can’t think straight and the feeling only grows stronger as his eyes drift to the blood-stains all over your legs and bedsheets.

There’s a lump in the back of his throat that chokes him, and all the words he wants to say, needs to say, die on his tongue.

“My wife- is-” he isn’t able to finish the sentence as the Maester hands him his son, his cries hit Cregan's ears, a painful reminder that no matter what happens to you he has to carry on, a harsh reality that he can’t bare to face.

Before he has time to even look down at his child he’s already being whisked away from his arms, wet nurses attending to him. It’s almost as if the world has slowed down, and he can’t breathe.

“She has lost a lot of blood, my lord,” The maester says, his tone soft and gentle as he cleans up, taking out some strong-smelling herbs. “The best we can do is let her rest, if she doesn’t wake within the hour hold this under her nose” he nods about to leave the room.

“She’ll live?” Cregan's voice is weak as he gently holds your hand.

“Of course my lord, as you said, she is a strong woman” he smiles before leaving the room, and it’s only when the door closes that his tears fall so effortlessly from his eyes, and he pleads to any Gods who are willing to listen to him that you’ll be okay.

Cregan doesn’t leave your side once as the hours pass by. His hand gently lays over the top of your heart. The feeling of it beating beneath his palm gives him hope. He gently pushes your hair back, tucking the strands behind your ear as he waits on bated breath for you to wake up.

He watches your eyes flutter and immediately sits up, shuffling to sit closer to you. You groan something incoherent, but he can tell from the way you sound it’s out of nothing but pain. He’s quick to hush you, guiding you to lay back down, to your dismay.

“Y/n, please- relax, my love” he pleads with you as you grab ahold of his hand.

“Our son? Is he-?” You panic, voice hoarse as you try to sit up, ignoring the pain that seizes your body.

“He’s fine, I promise-” He whispers, watching your panicked eyes flicker frantically around the room, "But you, my love- please you need to rest” The way his voice trembles with worry makes you listen, that and the unbearable ache in your bones.

You look up at him, tears in your eyes as the heaviness of the situation finally weighs upon you. “I want to see him, please?” You whisper, and the hoarseness in your voice makes his heartbreak.

He wipes away the tears that fall from your eyes, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. “You will, I promise.” His voice calms your nerves. “Let’s get you cleaned up, yeah? He’s not going anywhere” Cregan smiles as you nod.

“Okay. I do need a bath” You let out a raspy giggle, relief washing over you as Cregan chuckles beside you.

“Of course, my sweet wife” he smiles, his hand gently caressing your cheek before disappearing off, but not without looking back at you, a sad look clouded over his tired eyes.

The water is pleasantly warm against your skin, your hands grasping onto your husband’s shoulders as he helps you into the wooden tub. There’s a thick layer of silence that falls upon you both, it almost feels suffocating.

Cregan doesn’t mutter a word as he washes you. The water sloshing around, and the harsh wind is the only thing you can hear. It’s you who breaks the silence, catching his hands within your own.

You bring his hands to cup your face, “I’m okay. Cregan? Look at me, please?” You plead, noticing how he hasn’t been able to keep eye contact since you woke up.

There are tears that build up in his eyes, a dam of emotions that burst out of him. “I thought I lost you” he whispers, voice strained as he breaks down completely, the last hour finally catching up to him.

“But you didn’t Cregan, I’m right here” You don’t bother trying to hide your own tears, and he’s quick to wipe them away.

He leans to rest his forehead against your own, “I know” his voice is so quiet that if he were sitting any further, you wouldn’t be able to hear him, “But you almost weren’t, and I can’t live without you” he presses his lips against yours in a gentle, loving kiss.

“You don’t have to, I am right here, my love,” you tell him, kissing him once more before he pulls away. “I love you” you smile, as he goes to start washing your hair.

“I love you more… more than words could ever express” he finishes washing you. His touch is overwhelmingly gentle, so full of love that it makes your chest bloom with warmth.

The way his fingertips graze along your arms, how his lips feel as they press kisses along your shoulders. Small whispers of sweet nothings shared between you both in the candle-lit bathroom only ever to be heard by the pair of you.

You lean on Cregan like a crutch as he helps you from the bath, drying you off and changing you into fresh clean sleep clothes. Your bedchambers have been aired out by herbs and incense, and the bed sheets have been changed.

It feels so heavenly as you climb into bed. The sun was well and truly set. “I have a visitor for you” Cregan smiles, walking into the room with your son in his arms, wrapped in a blanket.

You gasp as he hands him to you. He stirs from his sleep with the movement. His tiny fingers wrap around your own as you admire him. “He’s perfect” You press a kiss to his forehead. Cregan sits beside you on the bed, the back of his fingers caressing his son's cheek.

“Brandon Stark” you whisper, looking over to your husband as he glances over at you with nothing but tenderness in his eyes.

You lean your head against his shoulder, smiling when he wraps an arm around your shoulders, bringing you closer, before pulling the sheets over your legs. “Brandon Stark” he repeats with approval, and you both chuckle as your son gurgles up at you with wide eyes.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

[madame-fear]

You can write headcanons about Lucerys, Jacaerys, Aemond and Aegon when is pregnant wife gets hurt (maybe she falls or bumps into something or someone)

𝐇𝐎𝐓𝐃 𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐒 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐀 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐆𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐓!𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐒 𝐇𝐔𝐑𝐓𝐒│𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒

— pairing : aegon targaryen ii x pregnant!reader, aemond targaryen x pregnant!reader, jacaerys velaryon x pregnant!reader, lucerys velaryon x pregnant!reader.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ Aegon Targaryen II :

: ̗̀➛ Aegon would just go hysterical when he finds out you got harmed while being pregnant with his child.

: ̗̀➛ You might be the first woman he ever truly loved. The one that comforted him in every occassion, that truly understands him, supports him - and now, you are with his child. It would be too much for him if anything was to ever happen to you, or your child.

: ̗̀➛ If anyone was the cause of your injuries, being a bit hysterical, he would be absolutely ruthless. Without hesitating, he would probably just smash the persons head either against a wall, or against a table, just like he did with Lucerys when he returned to King’s Landing and they all fought.

: ̗̀➛ ^^ And saying he would only get this phsyically aggresive with the person is truly an understatement. Just expect him to make the persons life a living hell, and then he would go to you like a worried little puppy.

: ̗̀➛ Aegon could have just overreacted a little bit, as you turned out to be okay, but he can’t just act careless when something happens to you. Sweet boy would just praise you a bit too much, rambling about how worried he was. Please just hold this pathetic man in your arms and tell him you are, and will always be okay.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ Aemond Targaryen :

: ̗̀➛ This boy is a bit more reserved when it comes to showing his emotions. I think Aemond would just keep a straight, stern expression even if he’s panicking on the inside.

: ̗̀➛ First things first. When he meets the maester and you in your chamber because you are getting your health checked, Aemond would surely speak to the maester first and hear what he has to say about your accident.

: ̗̀➛ You did get a bit harmed, some bruises, but nothing too serious that could potentially harm you or the child. So, you could definitely notice him release a deep huff of relief, and his body would become a bit less 'stiff'.

: ̗̀➛ Afterwards, when you finally get to be alone together, Aemond would just tell you to be more careful. Not because he thinks you’re clumsy, or because he’s scolding you - but rather, because he can’t bear the thought of losing the possibility of forming a family with you, the love of his life. Aem just cares too much, and has his own ways of showing his love.

: ̗̀➛ Either way, he will just stay by your side, comforting you for the little fright you got. Tons of kisses and smooches, plus sweet whispers of how good of a mother you will be.

: ̗̀➛ However, if someone bumped, or even worse, pushed you, fear not. Vhagar will take good care of it, without you having to even find out what happened, or worrying about anything. Do expect to have him as your little private stalker, following you around or keeping an eye on you everywhere just to make sure you will always be okay, without you knowing.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ Jacaerys Velaryon :

: ̗̀➛ Jace will bomb you with questions as soon as he hears you got hurt while being pregnant. Concerned questions that... Overwhelm you a bit. Unlike Aemond, none of the two Velaryon boys would bother in hiding their worry over your health.

: ̗̀➛ Questions like: are you okay? What happened? Did you fall with something? Did someone bump into you? Are you feeling dizzy? Has a maester seen you already? What did the maester say? Is the babe alright?

: ̗̀➛ He just asks too much, to the point you can barely respond to his questions properly. But, you understand. Much like Aemond, ever since he found out you were to be parents together, he became even more overprotective of you than usual.

: ̗̀➛ Jace would immediatly take hold of your hands and sit by your side while you await for the maester to arrive, and he will attentively listen to you answering his questions.

: ̗̀➛ Of course, the babe was alright and so were you. Luckily there was no harm made. Either way, if someone bumped into you instead of you falling, Jace needs to know who it was just in case that person did it on purpose.

: ̗̀➛ ^ gods, his face would literally twitch in anger at the thought of it.

: ̗̀➛ And if someone did bump into you on purpose? Jace wouldnt be reluctant in finding them, and getting physical. But of course, after spending time by your side with a relieved, content expression on his face.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ Lucerys Velaryon :

: ̗̀➛ The second Luke is informed that you hurt yourself, sweet boy would immediatly drop whatever thing he is doing just to rush to stay by your side, holding your hand and filling your face with concerned kisses.

: ̗̀➛ The idea of being the father to your children is something he can’t get enough of; so knowing you either fell/bumped into someone just leaves him at the verge of a panic attack.

: ̗̀➛ Will ask you a thousand of times if you’re okay, how are you feeling, and will also make sure to bring the best maesters to check on your and the child’s wellbeing.

: ̗̀➛ Of course, nothing bad happened. It was just a clumsy little moment, and both you and the babe are doing more than excellent. Literally, it was just a little spook.

: ̗̀➛ Either way, Lucerys will insist on staying by your side and just showering you and your precious little baby with his endless love.

: ̗̀➛ Basically, you’re his top priority. No matter what the situation was, Luke will always make sure to check on both of your wellbeing first, before having a talk about being more careful around you with whomever bumped into you (if, for example, you bumped into someone).

: ̗̀➛ Little love dragon would be EXTREMELY concerned the moment he finds out you got hurt, but oh, his face will turn into a relieved and joyful one when both of his treasures are alright. Maybe will also turn a bit more overprotective than he already is. As long as you are alright, he would pay no mind to the rest of the world. Luke would just rather stay with you, and your child. 💜💙

♡ taglist : ♡

@damatheirin @jacesvelaryons @jjamieberry @anemicroyalcore @countsmoon @tickle-euphoria @beeebo234 @manuholland6 @capellaadara @kyuupidwrites @tchatso @dopepersonacloudllama @phantasyy @tasty-nutella @mstxdes @valeriecash @cookielovesbook-akie @zzz000eee @bellarkeselection @feliuuuksks @visenyacore @hannaroktj @hopelesswritergall @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @dragon430

[valeskafics]

"Dragonstone" - Jaehaerys Targaryen I x Sister!Reader

Summary: When Jaehaerys learns of his mother's plans to wed you to Ser Orryn, he simply cannot let that stand.

TW: canon typical incest, profanity, innuendo, she/her pronouns, afab reader, idk slight slight dubcon/manipulation, loss of virginity, breeding kink, oral f receiving, fingering, overstim, p in v sex, creampie, tiddy succin

Word Count: 2,100 words

Rating: 18+, MDNI

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Fire and Blood/A Song of Ice and Fire characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are never required but are immensely appreciated 🩷

The Realm nearly tore itself apart when your elder brother and sister wed in secrecy. The High Septon proclaimed Rhaena and Aegon’s children to be abominations. The Faith of the Seven forbids incest, and its roots run strong through your family’s kingdom. That is why, when his small council assembles, Jaehaerys’ suggestion to have himself betrothed to you is deemed out of the question. The uprising is still fresh in the minds of all present, the way the Faith stood against your family’s tradition of marrying within your line to keep it pure. He is called away for other business and the small council reconvenes with the Dowager Queen, without him present. No suitable bride is chosen for him, but a groom is quickly chosen for you. Ser Orryn Baratheon.

Your mother is surprised when you do not protest the match, rather, you seem quite keen on it. Ser Orryn is, after all, one of the most handsome knights in the Realm, and he is kind. She bids you to keep this information to yourself, knowing that Jaehaerys will go berserk if he hears that his beloved little sister is meant to be wed to anyone other than him. As far as he is concerned, from the moment he took you for your first ride atop Vermithor with Silverwing being too small to fly, your tiny hands gripping at his tunic as you shrieked with delight, taking to the skies, you have belonged to him.

When Jaehaerys returns to the Red Keep, you ignore your mother’s words and bound up to him excitedly, wanting to tell him the good news. Jaehaerys smiles at you as you walk toward him, the epitome of effortless Targaryen grace and beauty. He pulls you out of your curtsy and into his arms, embracing you tightly, pressing a kiss to your forehead. Your body is so soft, so warm against his own. It takes everything in him to refrain from acting in a way that is untoward for a king. You beam up at him, your violet eyes sparkling.

“Good morrow, brother. How do you like my dress?” Well, he likes it a fair bit, especially how tight the bodice is, the way it pushes up your bosom, but before Jaehaerys can answer, you begin speaking again, “I am to meet Ser Orryn today to discuss the details of our betrothal-”

That one word alone is enough to make the smile fall from Jaehaerys’ face. To make his blood run cold. You notice the change in his demeanor, your voice faltering as he stares at you, his lilac eyes colder and harsher than you have ever seen them before.

“You will not be marrying Ser Orryn.”

You meet his gaze, your lips parted slightly as he advances on you. For every step you take backward, he takes one toward you until you are pressed flush against the stone wall behind you, his stare piercing as he grabs your chin, forcing you to face him.

“But-”

Your protests fall on deaf ears and Jaehaerys fixes you with a stern glare, “But nothing. I am your brother. Your king. It is my duty to ensure your safety, and I am doing so by putting a stop to this match.”

“You cannot keep me here forever!” You declare, surprising him with your outburst. You have always been his sweet, demure little sister. Where is this sudden rebellion coming from? “I am not a little girl anymore, Jaehaerys, and you cannot treat me like one!”

“No, you are correct, sister,” he murmurs, moving to twirl a strand of your hair around one of his fingers, moving ever closer to you, “You are a woman grown now. A beautiful woman at that.”

You swallow thickly, your breath catching in your throat at the heat in his expression, his voice, your stomach twisting in knots as you stare up at him, voice wavering as you reply, “Thank you…”

“You will be married to me, little dragon. Not Ser Orryn. To me.”

Your eyes go wide at his declaration, lips parting slightly as you protest, “But the Realm was thrown into chaos when Aegon married Rhaena. The Faith would never allow it, brother, to wed within our own line would be madness-”

You are silenced by his finger, making you furrow your brow in annoyance, reminded yet again of the fact that he is your elder brother. Your king.. Jaehaerys moves to trace your soft, plush lips with his finger, smirking to himself at the way your lashes flutter at his touch. You have always been his sweet little sister. Always so eager to please him, to make him happy. He leans in closer, his lips brushing against your ear, his breath hot against your neck, making a shiver go up and down your spine as he whispers.

“We do not bow to the Seven. We are dragons, my sweet sister. We claim what is ours with fire and blood. Though I have no need to claim you,” he murmurs, the smile on his face making your heart pound in your chest, an aching to be near him pervading your entire being as he moves to rest a hand on your waist, “You are mine. You have always been mine. From the moment you took your first breath you were mine.”

“I don’t know, Jaehaerys, it doesn’t seem wise-”

He ignores your attempts at reasoning with him. Perhaps the High Septon will denounce this match. Perhaps it will throw the Seven Kingdoms into chaos once more. But Jaehaerys knows that no match can compare to one between dragons. With you by his side, his sweet, intelligent, brave sister, he will usher in a new age of peace and stability for Westeros.

“I do not think you understand me, sweet sister. You have no choice in this matter. You are under my protection and as your lord, your brother, your king? I make the decisions for you. You are mine and you shall do as I say.” Jaehaerys grips your chin in his hand, forcing you to meet his eyes, “My queen.”

Taken aback by his words, you shake your head slightly, “You don’t mean that. You would never force me to do anything. I know you.”

“You know I love you. That I would do anything for you.” His palm moves to caress your cheek, that handsome smile of his spreading across his face at the way you nuzzle against his hand as if by habit, like a docile kitten, “This is for the good of the realm. I cannot see myself with anyone other than you. You will be my queen.”

You leave for Dragonstone that very night, telling no one of your plans. Jaehaerys weds you in the ways of Old Valyria, wearing the traditional robes of your ancestors. And not for the first time, you notice how handsome your brother looks, the moonlight shining upon his face, his sharp features, his silvery hair. This man who you’ve cared for so deeply all your life, is now your husband. And you think, were it not for your mother’s interference and the opinions of the Realm, you would have agreed to this match without hesitation. He cuts your lip and you cut his, sealing your bond, your devotion to each other.

He sees the resistance to this slowly leave you as you accept what he has told you. That you belong to him. That the two of you were meant to be, from the moment you opened your eyes and gazed upon him for the first time. From the moment you took to the skies, clinging to him for safety, Vermithor flying high above the clouds as the two of you gazed at the land below, not knowing one day you would rule it together. Why should you feel guilty about this? He is your brother, your blood, yes. But who better to love you and care for you? No one could ever love you the way he does.

Jaehaerys is gentle with you, knowing that this is all new to you. You are innocent, untouched, ignorant to the ways of men, to the pleasures of the flesh. He will teach you all of it. He presses his lips to yours, slowly at first, allowing you to get used to the kiss, the coppery tang of your blood mixing with his. He pulls you in closer, deepening the kiss, his tongue moving against yours as you gasp, clinging to his robes.

And when you reach the bedchamber, he lays you down gently, disrobing slowly, revealing every inch of his lithe, toned body to you. You sit up on your knees, your hands moving along the planes of his chest, his stomach. Before long, he is bare before you, wanting you to feel comfortable by making himself vulnerable first. Jaehaerys pulls you in, his cock hard against your thigh, standing at attention, as he kisses you again, his fingers twisting in your hair. His lips move to your neck, biting down to stake his claim on you, his tongue laving attention on your injured skin, soothing you. Your robes join his sooner than later, and you two stand before each other, completely bare. 

Jaehaerys stands at the foot of the bed, admiring you for a long moment, his gaze drinking you in as if you are the finest of wines. You are so beautiful, even more than he ever imagined. You smile at him softly, almost shyly, beckoning him to you with an outreached hand. He wastes no time climbing over you and pressing his lips to yours once again, his hands caressing your breasts, squeezing gently, prompting you to moan against his lips.

“You feel so perfect, just as I always dreamed,” he murmurs against your lips, moving to kiss down your chest.

He takes one of your nipples between his lips, suckling at the sensitive bud, his tongue licking at you eagerly, his hand moving to cup your mound. Your hands twist in his hair now as you whine softly, hips bucking against his hand, yearning for his touch. Jaehaerys gives you a sharp look with a smile, a silent command that you let him take this slowly. He has no desire to hurt you. He wishes to prepare you thoroughly.

And oh gods, he does. You lose count of how many times he makes you peak against his tongue, the way he laps at your slick folds, pushing your thighs apart to taste you. And all the while he demands you keep your eyes locked on his, forcing you to watch as he refuses to grant you reprieve. He pulls you back in every time you shy away, your body trembling from how many times he has made you come. But Jaehaerys insists that he wants this to be as painless as possible for you. He adds his fingers in, stretching you open, the cool metal of his rings a stark contrast to the warmth of his mouth against your pearl. The noises he makes, the lewd moans he lets out…

Finally, he decides that you have been prepared enough for him to take you. You cling to him desperately as he pushes his cock inside you, long and thick and filling you to the brim without even entering you completely. That will come with time, he muses, as he slowly begins to rock his hips against yours, reveling in every little mewl that falls from your lips. Jaehaerys pushes your knees to your chest, allowing him to fuck you even deeper, the bulge of his cock pressing against your stomach. He pushes down against it, making you whine pitifully as you beg for him to continue fucking you.

The way he kisses you, caresses you, whispers words of love in your ear all while fucking you relentlessly… You could get used to this. To his love. To being his wife and queen. Jaehaerys’ lips nip at your collarbone, his hands holding you in place as he continues to rut into you, fucking you deeper and deeper with every thrust. And when he spills himself inside of you, painting your womb with thick, hot white ropes of his seed, he whispers to you.

“How beautiful you will look, sweet sister, swollen with my babe. You will look radiant, little one. And I will make sure that by the end of this night, you are with child. That, my dearest, is my promise to you as your lord husband.”

“Yes, brother,” you whisper, losing yourself in his kiss once again.

[targaryen-dynasty]

SERENITY.

Part 2

Dad!Aemond Targaryen x wife!niece!Reader

With Aemond’s arm around you, and his lips pressing against your temple, the fatigue you were feeling could wait for a little while, if it meant you got to indulge in those rare moments of serenity for just a little bit longer.

WARNINGS: Canon typical incest/Targcest, fluff, female Reader (no mentions of appearance besides color of her eyes), mentions of difficult pregnancy and birth, soft dad!Aemond

WORDS: 1.1 K

“Hae mērot gierūli. Se hāros bartossi.” As one we gather. And with three heads.

The voice was a distant rumble. It held a familiar edge to it, yet your tiredness made it difficult to make out where it came from. The calmness of it made you want to sink further into the silk sheets, the soft sigh leaving your lips indicating that you were close to falling asleep again – until it settled that you heard voices in your chambers. In the midst of the night.

Reaching to your side to check for the man you had married three summers ago, you couldn't feel his body right where he was supposed to sleep, the vacant spot already cold, which suggested he had been gone for quite some time by now.  

And if you had to guess, you’d say it was late into the Hour of the Owl already.

“Prūmȳsa sōvīli. Gevī dāerī.” We shall fly as we were destined. Beautifully, freely.

When your lilac eyes eventually opened, your marital chambers were only dimly illuminated, forcing them to adjust to the dark. Most candles had gone out, and not more than an ember glowed in the fireplace. The light of the moon, however, shone through the drapes hanging in front of the windows, highlighting their subtle movements in the gentle breeze, and the tall frame of your husband standing behind them. 

A deep sigh escaped your throat, one that gathered the attention of your occupied husband. You hadn’t even been aware that you had held your breath, and quickly placed a hand on your chest to stop yourself from making any more sounds, not wanting to wake your babe.

“Ēdrugon, ābrazȳrys,” he hummed, though his voice was slightly muffled. Sleep, wife. 

Leaning over the edge of the cot standing on your side of the bed, there were no distinct snoring sounds coming from the boy it belonged to, his little blanket missing as well. It merely was the reddish dragon egg sitting neatly in the corner, having yet to hatch. Your boy was nine moons old by now, and it became less and less likely it was going to hatch at all. 

You rose from the bed, quietly, and pulled a thin robe over your shoulders, tying a knot in the front. Sidling toward Aemond, you soon spotted the small head of your son resting on his shoulder with your husband’s lips pressed gently against the side of the boy’s face. A warmth spread through your body at the sight, your heart fluttering. 

“Emā naejot ēdrugon hae sȳrī,” you purred, cautious to not wake the sleeping babe in his arms. You have to sleep as well.

As you came up to him, you brushed your hand over Aemond’s back, resting at his waist, and craned your neck to meet his eye. His sapphire eye was gleaming in the soft light the moon casted upon you three, making him look as if he had been forged and created by the Seven. 

Your lips pressed to his shoulder, and only then did you notice that he was bare-chested, prompting you to raise your eyebrows. Aemond slightly turned and reciprocated the gesture, oblivious to your surprise, though his lips pressed to your temple with him taking a deep breath of your scent. 

He carefully shifted the hold on your son, supporting him with his right arm as he slid his other around your waist to pull you against him and meet your lips for a kiss that robbed you of your ability to breathe. 

“He was not able to find rest,” Aemond rasped, words fanning over your lips. “He sleeps most peacefully in our arms than in the cot, you know.”

You nodded, and allowed your fingers to ghost along the crown of his head, caressing the tuft of silver hair your son possessed. Your eyes crinkled at the corners, your heart swelling at the realization that you two had created the very being Aemond just cradled in his arms.

Turning your head toward the window overlooking King’s Landing, you were in awe that the rawness and vulnerability of the moment even made the filthiest of cities seem peaceful and quiet, yet the true sight to behold was and always would be the prince standing right next to you.

Despite the rift parting your House into two, Aemond had always been a dutiful husband, taking care of you and protecting you just like he had vowed to do on the day you wed in the traditions of the Faith. Duty. It had never been more than that to him. But with your pregnancy taking a woeful turn, and the much more miserable birth following, something in him had changed. 

His training with the sword could wait more often than not, if it meant for him to get the chance to bond with you, and, after the birth, your son. And knowing all too well that he prioritized full nights of sleep, moments like these made you even more aware of how much he had grown into his newfound responsibilities. 

For all that the people of court found the prince to be cold or even cruel at times, he was nothing if not incredibly gentle with you and your son. 

When you looked back at Aemond, you already found him staring at you with the striking lilac eye of his, an expression of deep affection written all over his features. The warm look in his eye made you feel weak in the knees, just like it always did. 

With a soft smile on his lips, his hand trailed from your waist to your stomach, gently rubbing over the small bump that slowly started to blossom. His touch was tender, loving even. 

“You deserve your rest more than ever with the child growing within you,” he noted, “return to bed and get some sleep, my love. I shall watch over him.”

You nodded as you watched Aemond’s head tilt forwards to look at the sleeping boy that was cradled in the crook of his arm. You were exhausted, but at the same time, a part of you wished to spend every moment you could with your little family.  

A cheeky smile grazed your lips. “But what if I want to stay?”

His brows raised slightly as he regarded you, tongue darting out to wet his lips. “I believe that we,” he nodded towards your son, “would not mind your company, provided you are not too tired.”

“Perhaps just for a few moments longer,” you replied softly to which he nodded in return.

With Aemond’s arm around you, and his lips pressing against your temple, the fatigue you were feeling could wait for a little while, if it meant you got to indulge in those rare moments of serenity for just a bit longer. 

[maidragoste]

Fatherhood

Daemon Targaryen x Velaryon!Reader

More of Daemon's Wife au

Summary: A glimpse into Daemon's life as a father.

REBLOGS, comments and likes are always greatly appreciated. comments always motivate me to continue writing 🥰🥰💖💖

If you have ideas or thoughts for this series you are welcome to share them in my inbox 🤭

Disclaimer: English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes.

After watching your husband act like a fool for days you finally lost your patience so tonight when Daemon climbed into bed with you and started kissing your neck you pushed him away.

“What did I do?” He asked, knowing that you were upset by the frown on your face.

"You're ignoring Baelon," you accused him without any doubt of your words.

Since the two of you had came back home from the war, Daemon had barely been to the nursery and when the whole family was at the table he never tried to talk to Baelon. You didn't expect him to instantly become familiar with his role as a father., after all, he hadn't been able to meet their son before, but you never thought that your husband would look for any excuse not to be with your son.

"He doesn't like me so I'm not going to bother him" he responded, wanting to appear unconcerned but you know him well so you know that this actually bothered him.

When you and your husband returned from Stepstones, your son had burst into tears the first time Daemon spoke to him. You noticed the pain in your husband's eyes when Baelon hid his face in your neck, refusing to see him. You didn't blame your son for being afraid since it was the first time he saw his father. You knew Daemon had been excited to finally meet Baelon so you understood that the boy's reaction would have disappointed him but you didn't expect him to decide to distance himself because of that.

"He doesn't like you because he doesn't know you yet," you explain now in a softer tone. "Daemon, I don't know what you expected from your first meeting but he acted like any other child would. He doesn't know you so you have to earn his trust. He's not going to love you just because im tell him you're his father. You have to spend time with him," you advised him as you traced random patterns on his chest, hoping he wouldn't take your words the wrong way.

"I will," he promised before kissing you on the lips. He was satisfied to see that this time you didn't push him away so he continued kissing you again and again.

And Daemon really considered your words because after that night he started spending more time at the nursery. At first, Baelon looked uncertainly at Daemon when he spoke to him but you always encouraged him to respond. In addition, it also helped that your son saw that you were always calm and smiling around Daemon, so little by little the boy began to gain more confidence. Every time you were about to tell him a new story, Baelon asked his father if he knew it too and he listened attentively every time Daemon contributed. When he realized that his father also knew High Valyrian, he began to proudly tell him the words he had learned so far and asked him to also teach him new words, now at the table after the servants brought the food Baelon spent his time asking his father what he liked and what he didn't, interested in knowing more about him. Not only that but Baelon also started inviting him to the walks the two of you take together on the beach. Seeing all this, you were proud of the progress between father and son and it made you happy to see the happiness on Daemon's face every time Baelon asked his opinion or asked him something, not to mention when he held his hand for the first time while the three walked together in the beach.

But still, you couldn't help but notice that the two of them were never alone, you were always there as if they wouldn't dare to be alone.

"Where is he going?" Baelon asked, looking with a pout at his father's back as he walked.

"You Kepa is going to go see his dragon" You smiled as you came up with an idea so that they could spend some time alone "Do you want to go with him?"

You weren't surprised when he let go of your hand and started running after Daemon shouting "Kepa! Kepa!" Your husband soon stopped and turned to see the little copy of him running towards him with a big smile. He felt his heart warm at the sight. When Baelon was a few steps away from him, he approached and picked him up without warning, making the boy squeal with happiness.

"I want to go with you," the boy announced before his father could ask him what was happening.

Your husband looked at you waiting for you to say something but you were already raising your hand saying goodbye to them with a smile. Baelon moved his hand back and forth until you became a distant speck on the beach.

"What's the name of your dragon?" the boy asked, still in his dad's arms as he walked.

"Caraxes" the father responded with a smile even though this was not the first time his son had asked him that.

"It's like Wing?"

Daemon would be lying if he said he wasn't fond of hearing how Baelon called your dragon Wing because according to the Nightwing boy he was too long.

"Caraxes is much grander than the dragon on your muña," the prince responded, feeling his smile grow larger as he imagined your indignation if you would listen to him. A part of him hoped that Baelon would later tell you this just to see your reaction.

"He's giant!" Baelon exclaimed impressed when he saw the red beast. "Will my dragon be like that too?" He asked excitedly.

"Probably but in many years" Daemon replied and poked his nose when he saw him pouting "Do you want to pet him?" Instantly the pout was replaced by a smile.

"Yes!" the boy shouted excitedly and before Baelon went to touch the dragon, Daemon took his son's small hand before placing it and his carefully on the dragon's face. He did not believe that Caraxes would do anything to him but he preferred not to risk it, it was known that dragons did not usually react well when someone who was not their rider approached them with too much confidence and the last thing he wanted was for his son to end up hurt so he was for a while talking to his dragon while they both caressed it.

Daemon could remember the proudest moments in his life: when he claimed Caraxes, when his father gave him Dark Sister, when he called you his wife for the first time when you told him you were pregnant and now it added up to see his son bond with his dragon.

They were there for a while. Daemon listened with amusement to Baelon's ramblings about how giant Caraxes was and that he surely had to eat a lot to achieve that size, all while never stopping petting the dragon. Until started to get dark then they headed back to the castle.

"I like Wing more" the boy confessed once the figure of the dragon became a distant speck.

"Tomorrow you will come to fly with me and you will see that Caraxes flies faster," the prince said instantly. He had to change Baelon's mind before he said that again but in front of you. He could already imagine your cocky smile and how you would never let him forget it.

"Let's fly now!" the boy squealed excitedly.

"We can't now, your daughter must be waiting for us for dinner" the father explained, and seeing that  Baelon seemed about to complain he added "Would you like her to have dinner alone? I'm sure that would make her sad"

"No, let's go with muña!"

During dinner, Baelon spent his time talking non-stop about Caraxes and how tomorrow he would fly with his Kepa. You listened to everything with a smile and only interrupted your son's ramblings to remind him to eat before the food got cold.

In the middle of Baelon's talks, Daemon took your hand and kissed it. He didn't need to tell you anything, you could see it in his eyes, he was grateful that you encouraged him to stop hiding and that he would make an effort to form a bond with his son.

When it was time for Baelon to go to sleep you and him got up from the table to go to the nursery but first Baelon said goodbye to his Kepa with a kiss on the cheek. You encouraged your son to go ahead with one of the maidens while you stayed with Daemon.

"I'm proud of you," you said as you took your husband's face in your hands and leaned in to kiss him "I can't wait to see you with the next one" you declared between kisses.

Your husband took a while to register your words because he was distracted by the taste of your lips but once he did he stopped kissing you to look at you impressed.

"Are you pregnant?" He asked just to make sure he understood correctly although he could already feel his heart racing.

You nodded with a smile and let out a laugh the moment Daemon pulled you onto his lap. You kissed his neck while his hand rested on your stomach. You still didn't show but he couldn't wait to see how the life inside you grew. He couldn't be by your side when you were pregnant with Baelon but this time it would be different, this time the two of you wouldn't have to discuss the baby's name by letter, this time Daemon would feel the baby's kicks instead of having to imagine it, this time if you wanted him, he would be by your side when you gave birth, this time he wouldn't have to wait years to meet his son. This time he would be there to see him grow.

"This time I won't miss anything," he promised, kissing your forehead.

Taglist for all my House of the Dragon works: @chaotic-fangirl-blog @venus-flytrap3 @ajordan2020 @iloveallmyboys @sweethoneyblossom1 @fudge13 @crystal-faith @tita004 @ichanelvxgue @snowprincesa1

@joyouart @rosey1981 @alastorhazbin @papichulo120627 @apollonshootafar @jasminecosmic99 @diorchaiamet @partypoison00 @camy857-blog @labellapeaky

@rebelliuna @bxdbxtxh15 @impartinghades @thegirlnextdoorssister @angeliod @snh96 @aleemendoza2425-blog @lizlovecraft @natashaobo

@watercolorskyy @nyenye @savagemickey03 @kishie8 @ewwwitsel @arabis-world @missusnora @nzygftoji @alisoncdariel @cookielovesbook-akie

@partnerincrime0 @klara-lily @427120lxld @justhereiguess2 @salmonella22 @Illzarr @buckylahey @wa801 @artistadistrada2002 @thelastemzy @justanotherkpopstanlol

If you want to be part of my taglist

hotd masterlist