#ice dragon!reader

[justcallmecj]

Seeing Your Dragon Form: Dormleaders

Heyyyy~ Back with another chapter! Here, this is when they saw your full dragon form for the first time. Now, this chapter is a bit special. It'll be separated into 3 or 4 parts. One for the Dormleaders, one for the vice's + Ruggie and Floyd, another for the first years and a last one for anyone left. I'm also thinking about one for the teachers + Crowley. This one is the Dormleaders. You can take this as romantic or platonic, your choice.

Also, I'm gonna describe what you look like in Riddle's section so I don't have to in others. Just refer back to his section for imagery.

Riddle

He was certainly shocked, that's for sure.

He's only seen dragons in drawings or in the media, and even then they were mostly the mainstream kind of dragons. Ice isn't the first thing people think of when they think of dragons,

You had taken him to a small clearing of trees in the forest behind NRC since there was plenty of space where you didn't need to worry about hurting someone.

You towered over him, and he himself is pretty short so it made the difference even greater.

The usual cold air that followed you had increased in temperature, making it harder for him to be close to you.

Your horns became larger and sharper, like huge icicles. Spikes ran down your back just as sharp as your horns. Your tail swayed behind you and your eyes gleamed a dangerous e/c color.

Despite all this, you showed no signs of being hostile towards him. When he looked into your eyes, he saw a playful glint in them. Like you were studying his reactions and getting a kick out of it all.

He quickly put himself together after the initial shock.

You brought yourself down to his height and placed your head peacefully on the grass in front of him. He slowly made his way closer to you.

Gently, he placed a hand on your head. Despite the cold feeling, it didn't hurt. He sat next to your head and found himself quickly easing into a sense of safety and security. You laid your wings around him, enclosing the space and basically trapping him, but he didn't mind.

You made gentle, humming noises and he found the shaking feeling began to make him sleepy. He no longer was shocked about how you look like this and the drowsiness of his daily activities caught up to him. He curled up in the crook of your long neck.

"Thank you, for trusting me with this sight. I know how you feel, but you don't need to worry around me. Have a good nap, Y/N. I'm not to far behind you anyways."

Leona

You truly are an oversized lizard, huh?

He did whatever he could to keep the shock off his face, and it worked. You would've believed him, if you hadn't known him so well.

He didn't realize, but his tail stayed close to the grass, his ears twitch in your direction. More than a few of his muscles tensed.

He wasn't scared, just weary. He's always wondered what would happen if Malleus got pissed off at him enough to turn dragon mode. Now he just associates the thought with a sense of danger.

You could pick up on this though. You've always had a strange ability to do that when it comes to Leona. Your next goal? Be as non-threatening as possible.

Your tail gently curled around your hind leg, you sprawled your wings out in the grass around you and you brought your body close to the ground.

When he looked at you, he could clearly see the message you were trying to tell him. He understands you can't talk in this form.

He approached you. His muscles loosened when he touch your snout and your eyes closed, showing contentment.

Gently, he ran his hand up and down your scales. The skin on his hands pricked from the cold, a feeling he still wasn't used to.

His ears picked up on the faint hum you made. A smirk found its way on his face, and he didn't try to hide it.

He spent a bit of time petting you. He saw it as revenge for all the times you pet him with no warning. But, much to his demise, you didn't see it as anything spiteful. You quite enjoyed the attention.

"Hm. Fine. I'll stay with you for a while. But that's only because Ruggie won't come get me if I'm with you while you're like this."

Azul

He was...hesitant..to say the least.

He was nervous to see what you'd turn into. That's not meant to sound mean or judgemental, he wouldn't judge you. You don't judge him, why would he in turn?

More so, it's just that he doesn't know how he himself will react and doesn't want to hurt you with a negative reaction.

He knew you were nervous about yourself for a long time. But, you decided that if he saw you comfortable with yourself, he'd become a bit more confident as well.

It took a lot of convincing from you to lead him into the forest clearing. Even more for the Twins not to follow.

Once you two were there and he backed up to give you space, seeing you transform was the most stunning things he's ever seen.

A white mist covered you and a dark shadow on the inside(you) grew and changed shape. Into the shape of a dragon. When the mist cleared, he saw you.

Your e/c colors stared him down. You did what you could not to freak him out, but you didn't have full control of every habit of yours.

He could feel a few flight reflexes kick in. He stayed in place though. (You praised him for that later)

You sat. You kinda reminded him of a dog with the way you sat and waited patiently. Your tail rested motionless, wings calmly at your sides. Your head tilted to the side. To Azul, it was kinda cute. Like looking at a sea guppy.

He stepped closer, but kept a slight distance. You weren't offended, you knew you needed to take things slow. And you knew he was more worried about you than himself.

In an attempt to show him that there was nothing to worry about, you stretched out one of your arms, careful to watch your claws, and held it in front of him. Like how a human reaches out a hand to a scared animal. (Ironic since he was more human than you rn)

He got the message. He approached you and placed a gentle hand on your arm. The cold was somehow a comfort. It sorta reminded him of the cold waters in the Coral Sea. Slowly, he leaned into your touch and found himself calm. All worry faded away and you came close to him and gave whatever your equivalent of a smile is. It warmed his heart.

"I see. I hope none of my actions hurt you. You were very brave to show me all this. I hope one day, I can be like you with myself."

Kalim

He was certainly the most excited to see your dragon form.

He's never seen a dragon before, and The Land Of Scalding Sands doesn't have any legends or stories regarding dragons, so it's been an obscure concept to him.

He, without hesitance, followed you to the clearing in the forest and patiently waited for you to feel you were ready.

He held his breath as you transformed and only released it when he saw you were okay.

The dragon he saw standing in front of him. Blew. His. Mind!

Even before you could entirely orientate yourself he quickly threw himself onto you and wrapped his arms around your long neck, which was barely close enough to the ground for him to reach. (Especially since he's short)

He talked to you about everything and anything for 2 hours straight. He didn't mind that you couldn't verbally respond, it actually gave him enough time to learn what different ques you made meant. You nodded and shook your head for yes or no questions, you flopped your tail when you meant 'maybe', and your wings flutter lightly when you don't know how to respond.

He even learned what the meaning behind certain sounds meant.

"Sorta wish I had seen your dragon form earlier, but better later than never! Right?...I wonder what Jamil's doing right now?" Cue to Jamil who's freaking out because Kalim didn't tell him he was leaving the dorm.

Vil

He had come to know you pretty well. Despite that, he realized that he never actually asked you anything about your dragon form.

He's definitely thought about it, but never wanted to ask you for fear of making you uncomfortable.

When you told him you really wanted to, he worried that you may have been forcing yourself for him. You quickly reassured him that that wasn't the case. He then agreed to come with.

Seeing you morph was beautiful to him.

You were beautiful.

Your beautiful white scales tinted blue when the sun hit them at a certain angle. Your horns glistened with an icy nature, your eyes shone with a slight glaze of white over them. (Rook explained to him how this protects your eyes from the sun)

All he saw was pure, icy beauty. In a way, he couldn't comprehend why you've been self-conscious about how this form looked. Then he remembered how he gets when people comment negatively about how he looks, and how it can take a toll after so long.

He came to a resolve. To make sure you never again see anything negative about your dragon form!

With quick, confident strides, he approached you. Looking up to meet your eyes, he gave you a sweet, caring face.

He then began to fawn over you. His usual uptight behavior fell to allow his more caring side to take hold so that he could make sure you knew just how beautiful you looked. He commented on how well you seem to take care of yourself, your huge size meaning there was more to admire. Your horns looked like you took gentle care of them. Your snout looked adorable to him. The spikes running down your back, were sharp to the touch.

Those are all examples of how he expressed that he saw and took notice of all your beauty.

He sat on the grass in front of you and allowed you to place you snout in his lap as he gently rubbed your head while whispering sweet compliments to you.

"I hope that, never again, do you see anything wrong with your own beauty. And if anyone tells you other wise, just send them my way."

Idia

You want him to leave his room??? Whyyyyy?

He always thought seeing you in your dragon form would be the coolest thing ever. But he didn't think he'd be dragged out of his room by you and forced into the forest.

We couldn't have just done this somewhere at Ignihyde?

Then you transformed, and he no longer remembered why he was upset.

The fantasy loving weeb in him came out and he started to freak out.

He had a split second of hesitation, ice and fire don't mix and he could feel the ice on you, but his weeb took over and he rushed over. He was no longer shy with you.

His mind was going a million miles and hour and he asked you question after question. Until he realized that you couldn't talk. Which honestly bummed him out a bit but he quickly recovered.

Soon, he took to simply admiring you while you soaked up the attention he was giving you.

His warm fingers lightly slid across your cold scales, sending a shiver up his spine every time, but he didn't mind.

It shocked him when you reached out an arm and pulled him close to you. You held him against your side while you curled up like a puppy.

"Um, okay then. I guess we can stay like this for a bit. But, I do still have some games I need to play later, so not all day, okay?"

Malleus

You had zero problems with him. It actually went the smoothest with him.

When you two were having a conversation a while back, he had questioned if you had a dragon form like he did. You had explained to him that you did but you were to shy to show anyone. He had asked why and you told him that after so long of people bad mouthing you about how you look in fae form, you became hesitant for anyone to see you as a dragon.

He talked about his form in an attempt to help you feel comfortable. He also told you that you'd never need to be scared with him because he's just like you. That made it easier for you to get where you are now. Finally ready to show.

You took him to the clearing and asked him to back away so you wouldn't hit him.

The way you transformed was different from his. He created a puff of smoke around him, you made a mist of ice.

Once the mist faded, he quickly took in every detail about you. How sharper your horns are compared to his, your serrated claws. The white and blue tint of your scales while his a black with purple tints. (Well, that's what Lilia has told him.)

He immediately took to feeling your scales and tough skin, wings and tail. You didn't mind, not like you had a lot of feeling in those areas. He's a dragon to, so he knew exactly where he needed to avoid.

You were a lot more different from him than he was expecting. His scales were rough while yours were smooth. Your horns sharp, his rounded. Your wings were more angular and his were longer.

He didn't mean to get as analytical as he did, he was just really curious. After realizing how he was acting he took to talking to you. Unlike others, he could understand majority of your draconic growls and rumbling. You could actually hold a proper conversation with him.

Eventually, you began to get tired. Your eye lids drooped and you struggled to keep your head up. He saw this and told you it was fine to fall asleep.

He actually turned into his own dragon form and curled up next to you, intertwining your tails. Together, you both fell asleep there on the grass.

"I never thought that I would meet someone so like me, even if we are different. Thank you, Child of Dragons, for coming into my life."

[wyvernest]

tf you mean "cregan was supposed to appear in the season finale and his scene was cut" give me my husband now

[update]

[wholoveseggs]

Homecoming

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

{Daemon Targaryen x Reader} You haven't seen your husband since your passionate wedding night, leaving you to doubt his love. Now, three months later, you're round with child and missing him more than ever—until he suddenly returns.

♡♡ This is purely just to get all my daddy Daemon feelings out, I 100% believe he has a breeding kink. ♡♡

3.2k words - Warnings: smut, major breeding kink, slow sex, so so so much fluff, a little bit of angst and Daemon apologizing in bed...

@elijahstwink @starshipcookie @absolutemarveltrash @odairtrqsh @darkened-writer

@cheneyq @fallout-girl219 @nina6708 @evasmlp @sadmonke

@deamonloverrrr @urmomsgirlfriend1 @moonsleep

It was another quiet night, in a bed far too large for one. The wind was gently blowing through the curtains, bringing with it a cool breeze and the smell of the sea. It was late, and everyone was asleep, yet you laid awake, tossing and turning, unable to fall asleep.

You rolled over onto your side, the silk of the sheets sliding against your bare skin. These days, sleep evaded you, no matter how much you tried. If it wasn't your thoughts keeping you up, it was your changing body and the ever growing life inside of you.

Three months ago you had gotten married to the prince Daemon, a dream of many girls across the kingdom. But your marriage was hardly that. The day after the ceremony you woke up in an empty bed, and hadn't seen your husband since, leaving you to wonder if you had done something wrong.

He had left you no letter, no message. Nothing. Only the memory of your wedding night, the way he touched and kissed you, his sweet whispers of adoration as he made you his. On the loneliest days you would close your eyes and remember it all, his lips on yours, the way his fingers caressed you, the feel of him inside you.

You place your hand on the small bump of your stomach, a smile spreading across your lips. Although it had only been one night, he did his duty and you were pregnant. A piece of him was always with you.

But it wasn't enough.

You longed to see him again, to touch him and be held by him, to tell him of the life growing within you. You wanted so desperately to be with him, but instead you were left with the ghost of his love, a memory that wasn't enough to fill the hole in your heart.

You sighed, trying to push away those thoughts, and attempted to fall asleep, but every time you closed your eyes all you could see was his handsome face. You opened them again and sat up, staring into the darkness.

You could see the light of a torch through the cracks of the door, and the sound of footsteps. You knew exactly who it was, the guard outside your door. His shift was almost over, and soon a new one would be out there, watching over you. There was a muffled conversation, and the sound of someone walking away.

A few moments later the door cracked open, and the torch light poured into the room. Your eyes squinted at the sudden brightness, and as the person entered the room they shut the door.

You were about to give your guard a kindly lecture on waking you up when you noticed that it wasn't the guard who had walked in, but a hooded man. You opened your mouth to call for help, but before you could get a sound out he was at your bedside, his hand covering your mouth.

"Don't scream, my love, it's me." He whispered.

You blinked at the voice, your mind taking a second to process what was happening. Your eyes widened, and you reached for his hand. He took it away from your mouth and intertwined your fingers together, his other hand pulling down his hood.

"Daemon." You breathed, looking up at his face.

The torchlight casted a warm glow on his handsome features, highlighting his strong cheekbones and sharp jawline. His hair was longer than the last time you saw him, hanging past his shoulders, his eyes were dark and clever, looking you over with admiration.

You pulled him towards you, your lips crashing into his. He let out a sigh, a sound that sounded almost pained, and returned your kiss. Then you harshly pushed him away, hitting his chest.

"Where have you been?" You demanded.

"I had matters to attend to." He told you.

"Three months!" You cried. "Three months I waited for you, and you were doing what?"

He smiled and pulled off his cloak, his eyes raking over your form. He reached out to cup your cheek, his thumb gently stroking your skin.

You wanted to be angry with him, you really did, but the look he was giving you, like he was starved, melted away your resolve. You leaned into his touch and looked up at him through your lashes, a smile tugging at your lips.

"Asshole," You whispered.

"My love." He whispered back, leaning down and placing a kiss to your forehead.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him in for another heated kiss. You were angry, yes, but seeing him now made all of that fade away. Your ire could wait until the morning.

His lips were gentle and loving, and you were so happy that you had almost forgotten that he had been gone. He kneeled on the bed and pulled you close, his hands cupping your cheeks.

When he pulled away, you rested your forehead against his, smiling and breathing hard.

"I thought you left me," You admitted, your hands gripping his wrists, as though you could keep him there forever by holding on to him.

He hummed, his nose nuzzling against yours and you pressed yourself closer to him, trying to get as much contact as possible.

His large, warm hands moved down to the swell of your stomach. He placed his palms flat against the bump and leaned back, a small smile tugging at his lips.

"Did the maesters tell you?" You asked, placing your hands over his.

He nodded, his eyes lifting up to meet yours. "How are you feeling?" He asked, with such gentle kindness that it made your heart melt.

"Big." You answered, laughing slightly. "I can't wear any of my old clothes, and I have to have new ones made all the time. And the way the ladies look at me when I go out..."

He shook his head, a breathy laugh escaping him, his thumbs caressing your skin. It was true that you had changed since the wedding, your body swelling with his child. You were nervous about how he would react, but the softness in his eyes and the way he touched you told you otherwise.

"I wish I could have told you the news myself, it's a shame you had to hear it from some crusty old maester," you said.

"It is a wonderful thing to return home too," he smiled, leaning forward and pressing his lips against yours.

He kissed you deeply, his arms wrapping around your waist. You smiled into the kiss, your fingers weaving through his long, silver hair. You could feel his lips turn up against yours, and you both pulled away.

He looked at you for a moment, his eyes raking over your features, a smirk tugging at his lips. His hands trailed down your sides, sending a wave of heat through you.

"My prince," you said softly, your fingers brushing along his cheekbone. "We've already made a baby. You don't have to do this."

He laughed, and shook his head, a look in his eyes you couldn't decipher. "I forget just how innocent you are," he said, his hands trailing down to your thighs.

“Well, whose fault is that?” You teased, smiling up at your handsome husband.

You sucked in a breath as he leaned down, his lips trailing kisses along your neck, his teeth grazing over your skin.

"It's true, I've been away for too long, my lady wife has forgotten what it is I crave," he breathed against your skin, his lips finding yours once more.

Your hands slid down his shoulders and arms, feeling his muscles. He pulled back slightly and tugged off his shirt, letting it fall to the floor.

"You have gotten bigger as well," you said, running your hands across his chest, feeling the hard muscles.

He smirked, a cocky gleam in his eyes. "Oh?"

"It suits you," you said, a playful smile on your lips.

His hand came to rest on the side of your neck, his fingers caressing your jaw. His thumb brushed against your bottom lip and he leaned in, capturing your mouth with his.

"And you are more beautiful than the day we wed," he said, his voice husky.

"My prince flatters me." You breathed, a blush rising on your cheeks.

His eyes went to the ties on your nightdress, a row of pretty little bows that went down to the valley of your breasts. He tugged at one of the ribbons, the fabric becoming loose.

He pushed it aside and his hand moved up to caress your breast, his thumb rubbing your nipple, causing you to gasp.

"Still as sensitive." He said, a smirk on his lips.

He leaned down and took your other nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it, before gently biting down. You tugged hard on his hair, your legs kicking and squirming as he continued to play with you.

"Daemon," you moaned.

He hummed, the vibration causing a wave of pleasure to wash over you. He let go of your nipple, and his mouth moved lower, placing hot kisses along your skin, his hand pushing up your night dress.

"Perhaps a bit more sensitive." He commented, his hand brushing along your thigh.

He hooked a finger into the waistband of your small clothes and pulled them off. You were now naked, your body on full display for him, and he leaned back and admired his work. His hand on the swell of your belly, his thumb tracing over a stretch mark.

"Beautiful." He said, a sincerity in his voice that made your heart skip a beat.

You looked away, suddenly shy. You had only spent one night with him, and now he was here again. His touch, his words, they all still had an affect on you, making your stomach flutter and heart race.

He leaned down, and pressed a kiss to your bump, his hand resting on the side of it, his lips trailing lower. You smiled softly, and ran your fingers through his hair, the silver strands smooth between your fingers.

His hand came to rest on your thighs, gently coaxing your legs open. You watched as he positioned himself between them, his head almost disappearing behind your bump.

His eyes flickered up to yours, and his smirk was all too knowing, causing you to blush and turn away. He leaned forward, his tongue darting out and licking up your slit.

You gasped, your grip on his hair tightening. He did it again, this time focusing his attention on that sensitive little spot he introduced to you on your wedding night. He placed a soft kiss on it, his tongue circling it.

"Dae-ah," you moaned, trying to muffle the sound by pressing a hand over your mouth.

You didn't know if it was the fact that you were pregnant, or maybe that you missed him more than anything, but everything felt different, his touch more intense.

His hands gripped the backs of your thighs, holding you down as his tongue licked and circled you. His mouth moved down and his tongue slid into you, making you arch and cry out. He lapped at your arousal, his tongue going in and out, the sounds he made, the hums and sighs, driving you wild.

He groaned, a sound that vibrated through your entire body, and his tongue went up, swirling around that little spot again, his mouth closing over it.

You moaned his name, your thighs squeezing him, your whole body trembling as your release washed over you.

He placed a few more kisses to the inside of your thighs before rising up, his hair messy and face glistening with you. He wiped his face with his arm and leaned down, his lips capturing yours.

You could taste yourself on him, and you kissed him hard, your hand tangling into his hair, the other reaching down to the ties of his trousers. He helped you undo them, and kicked off his pants.

His hard length sprung free, and you wrapped a hand around it, causing him to let out a shaky moan. He pressed his forehead against yours, his hand cupping your cheek, and his eyes locking onto yours.

You slowly started to stroke him, and he let out another moan, his eyes fluttering closed, his breath hot against your skin.

"My love," he groaned, his hips thrusting into your hand.

You loved the effect you had on him, the control you had. To have the prince of dragonstone, the most dangerous man in the realm, at the palm of your hand, made your heart flutter.

His hand found yours, and he guided it away from his length, a whine leaving your throat. He chuckled and gave you a quick kiss before positioning himself between your legs.

He slowly pushed himself in, causing you both to moan. It hurt a little, just like the first time, but his hands were on your thighs, his thumb caressing your skin, and he slowly pulled out and pushed back in, letting you adjust.

"My love, I'm not going to break," you said.

He smirked and gave a shallow thrust, a gasp leaving you.

"I can't be too careful with what is mine." He said, leaning down and giving you a heated kiss.

He pulled away and rested his forehead against yours, his hand sliding up the length of your leg, coming to rest on your bump, his other hand planted next to your head, holding himself up.

He started to move, his length slowly sliding in and out, the pace slow and gentle. You could feel every inch of him, rubbing against that perfect spot. A soft moan left you, and you reached out, your hands on his chest, feeling the hand planes of muscle underneath his skin.

His thumb caressed your belly, his eyes never leaving your face, studying every detail, memorizing each feature. You felt so exposed under his gaze and turned away, your cheeks flushed.

He smiled, a soft, loving smile, and kissed you.

"How I've missed you, my beautiful wife," he said, his voice thick with emotion.

You looked up at him, seeing nothing but love in his eyes. It was the way he had looked at you at your wedding, the two of you standing there in the sept, whispering promises to each other. The world had disappeared around you, and in that moment you were the only people that existed.

He kissed you again, and began moving a little faster, the sound of his hips meeting yours filling the room. He groaned, his hand still gently stroking your bump.

"I can't believe such a perfect creature could bear my child," he said, his eyes trailing down to where his hand rested.

"Our child," you corrected, giving him a teasing smile.

He hummed, leaning back and wrapping his arms around your waist and helping you into a sitting position. He pulled you onto his lap, and you moaned at the way he was buried deeper inside you.

His lips left open mouth kisses on your shoulders, and his hands rested on your hips, guiding you. You braced yourself on his shoulders, his hands back on your bump as you moved. You knew he liked the feel of it, and he couldn't get enough.

Your name left his lips as you bounced in his lap, his hands cupping your ass, squeezing you. You moaned, your hands sliding into his hair, tugging at the silver locks. You were growing louder, your body humming, that feeling building within you.

"Not too loud, my love," he whispered. "I do not wish for the guards to hear,"

A moan, that was halfway to a laugh escaped you, and he cut it off with a deep kiss. You buried your face in the crook of his neck, as you kept moving, the feeling of your release building.

"For your lovely sounds are only for me," he continued, his voice in your ear.

You let out another shaky moan, his hands squeezing you. He was moving his hips to meet yours, and you could feel him shaking beneath you. His hands gripped your hips tighter, and pulled you harder, his voice soft yet commanding as he talked you closer to your peak.

Your hands gripped his arms and back, and when he said your name, a deep, low groan that sounded almost pained, you toppled over the edge, falling in a pool of ecstasy. All the pent up emotions and frustration that you had been holding in were released, and you let go of a final moan that you muffle in the crook of his neck.

He followed soon after, capturing your lips in a heated kiss and letting out a deep, satisfied moan. You clung to him, afraid that he might disappear if you didn't. His arms were wrapped around your middle, cradling you close to him, his lips pressed to your temple.

The two of you breathed in each other's air, a simple shared breath, your foreheads pressed together, your eyes closed. You could feel his lips on your sweat slicked skin, his fingertips still caressing your bump.

When you both had returned to your senses, he gently laid you back on the bed. He leaned down, the tip of his nose nuzzling against yours, and peppered your face with little kisses. You smiled and let your eyes flutter open, finding him staring at you, a sweet, lovestruck look in his eye.

He grabbed the blanket, and covered your naked form with it, tucking it around you, almost protectively. He crawled under with you,his head resting against your chest, his hand still protectively cradling the swell of your stomach.

You wrapped an arm around his shoulders, and ran your fingers through his hair, smiling. He looked up at you, his eyes sleepy, and he pressed a kiss to your bump.

"I hope it's a boy," you said, continuing to stroke his hair. "With the most handsome features, and a true warrior, like his father."

"Mm," he hummed, his eyes closing, and his arms wrapping around your waist. "I hope it is a girl, a daughter that looks just like her mother."

He was silent for a moment, and you wondered if he had fallen asleep, when his eyes suddenly opened.

"Or perhaps both," he said, his voice serious, a glimmer of something in his eyes.

"Twins?" You laughed. "I don't think I could handle two little dragons running about."

He chuckled, his fingers drawing lazy circles on your skin. "I will be here to help you," he said, his eyes meeting yours. "I am not going anywhere."

"You better not," you warned, poking his chest. "You've kept me waiting long enough."

He laughed again and caught your wrist, bringing your finger to his lips and placing a gentle kiss there. He slid his arms back around you, and pulled you close, your foreheads touching, your noses brushing.

You were content, your heart filled with so much love for him, and as his breathing evened out and his eyelids drooped, you knew he felt the same. You drifted off to sleep, dreaming of what was to come. Of a big family, a happy life, and many more nights just like this one. 

[kingslayerssword]

Is it embarrassing to admit that I check the Gwayne Hightower and Benjicot Blackwood tags every single hour…..

[aemondsbabe]

What is Owed

summary: the gold cloaks raid the brothel, you make a deal to secure your freedom

pairing: harwin strong x lyseni!reader x daemon targaryen

warnings: mature/explicit, 18+ (minors dni!), no use of y/n, afab reader, reader is briefly described as having lyseni features (pale hair, purple eyes) but no other physical descriptors are used, mentions of sex work, reader is a sex worker, breast/nipple play, dirty talk, double penetration, piv sex, anal sex, anal fingering, regular fingering, squirting, unprotected sex, double creampie oh jeez, oral (m receiving), handjobs, hands on necks, "whore" is used both as a pet name and degradingly we love innovation, big hulking men idk, let me know if i missed anything!

word count: 7.7k

a/n: so sorry for being away! wasn't intentional, just busy with life things! but god i missed writing and i'm so happy to finally have this one done! daddies galore!

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

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A barely concealed sigh of disgust leaves your lips, which remain pulled into a tight, docile smile as some lord, whose name you couldn’t be bothered to remember, finally finishes over your bare chest with a beastly grunt, his hips twitching as you stroke him through it. 

Took his sweet time, you think as you rise to your feet and quickly grab one of the spare cloths stashed in the nearby vanity to wipe his spend from your chest. Depositing the cloth in a nearby basket, you take a moment to right your dress and run your fingers through your pale hair. Finally, you turn back around and eye the man still lying across the ornate chaise catching his breath. 

You glance at his trousers, still haphazardly piled on the floor, before checking him once more, smirking when you see that his eyes are still closed. Carefully, you make your way over to his trousers and kneel once more as you grab for the heap of fabric; keeping your eyes on him, you swiftly rifle through the pockets and smile triumphantly as you pull a few coins from one – one golden dragon, three copper stars, and a half-penny. 

Grinning, you toss the man’s trousers back onto the floor before quickly grabbing the small coin purse you keep tucked away beneath the chaise, way back toward the wall and covered by the ends of one of the red satin curtains that cover the windows of the brothel – the perfect hiding spot until you can move them to the more secure lock-box beneath your bed. 

“Mmph,” the lord sighs, stirring finally just as you drop the last coin into your pouch. Shoving it back beneath the chaise, you quickly rise to your feet with a placid smile just as he finishes stretching. 

“Some wine for you, my lord,” you smile, keeping your voice light and sweet in just the way the Madam likes as you offer him a goblet, “To replenish your strength.”

“Yes, yes,” the older man mumbles, paying you no mind as he busies himself with the buttons on his tunic, “Fetch me my trousers,” he commands, brushing you off with a wave of his hand. 

“Of course, my lord,” you nod, teeth gritting as you set the goblet back down before grabbing his blasted trousers with an eye roll. He all but snatches them from you with a pompous little hum, not even looking in your direction. Once again behaving as the Madam demands, you merely stand by while he redresses, hands clasped demurely in front of you as you wait to be of service once again, or, hopefully, to kindly escort him to the door. 

You don’t mind working in the brothel, not really, especially knowing that it could be much worse – you could’ve ended up as one of the many beggars that line the streets of Flea Bottom or, more dreadful still, stuck as a slave back home. It was luck, really, that brought you to the brothel in the first place, back when you were still stumbling half-blind with grief around the fish market by the docks only to be plucked up by chance by a few of the girls from the brothel. They’d brought you back here, promising that the Madam would take you in, that you’d earn great money with your exotic looks. 

One of those things had been true – the Madam was very happy to take you in. Technically, you do also make great money… for the brothel; only a small percentage is ever paid back to the workers and, for your circumstances, that just won’t do. Which is precisely why you sometimes took a little tip for yourself, especially if your client for the evening was of higher status; it’s not as if they’d miss, or even notice, a few missing coins. 

As far as you’re concerned, it’s a flawless system. 

You’re brought out of your short reverie by another sigh from the lord as he polishes off the goblet of wine you’d offered some moments ago and once more, your lips quirk up into a pleasing smile, “Leaving so soon, my lord?”

“Mm,” he merely grumbles before flashing you a lecherous grin, his yellowed teeth making your stomach turn, “Worry not, girl, I’ll be back before the tournament’s over.”

“Wonderful,” you sigh, grimacing internally as you make a half-step toward the arched doorway, “I’ll see you out.” Blessedly, the lord makes no more of a fuss and lets you lead him to the entryway, sparing you one final nod before slipping down the dimly lit street. 

You remain in the doorway for a moment more, arms crossed over your chest as you gaze outside, relishing the feel of the cool night air against your skin. After a moment, though, your eyes narrow when you realize the streets seem much quieter than usual. At this hour, there would normally be more people about – some returning from a long day of work, others already stumbling around drunk, but tonight there were only a few scattered people roaming about. 

“Strange…,” you murmur to yourself, absentmindedly running a finger over the gold chain around your neck, your fingers brushing over the small key hanging from it. Sparing a glance up at the Dragonpit looming on the nearby hill, you finally close the door with a shrug. Returning to the room you’d serviced the lord in, you glance around quickly to make sure the coast is clear before you retrieve the small coin purse from beneath the chaise, smiling at the weight of it as you carry it swiftly back to your bed, to your little lockbox, wholly unaware of the envious gaze on your back. 

“Commander on the floor!” One of the Gold Cloaks shouts as Daemon prowls into the hall, a self-righteous smirk on his lips as the drum of fists against chest plates ceases. 

“When I took command of the Watch, you were stray mongrels,” he growls, dark violet eyes surveying the men around him, “Starving and undisciplined!” 

He pauses for a second, heart pounding with the heady sensation of power as he prepares to do what his dear older brother cannot – punish. Too long have the streets of King’s Landing, of his city gone to the Seven Hells; controlled by crime and near-anarchy when they should be controlled by him, by the dread of his authority. 

“Now, you’re a pack of hounds,” his voice rises as he speaks, as he breathes life into his men, “You’re sated and honed for the hunt!”

Howls erupt around the hall, making the prince’s lips stretch into a vicious grin – his men were ready, ready to rule with the iron fist Viserys lacked. 

“My brother’s city has fallen into squalor!” He says, pacing down the room, “Crime of every breed has been allowed to thrive!”

His chainmail clinks with each of his heavy steps, pride swelling in his chest as many of the soldiers nod their heads along with him. It was true, after all, everyone knew it. Viserys may have the crown, the damned throne, but the dragonfire in his veins had run cold long ago. The blood in Daemon’s burns hot, however; centuries of power and glory fuel his fires, flowing through him like the lava in the Dragonmont. 

“No longer,” he grunts, pausing at the end of the hall, the silken cloth draped over his shoulders shining in the light of the torches lining the room as he turns to eye his men, smirking at the blood lust evident on their faces, “Beginning tonight, King’s Landing will learn to fear the color gold!”

A loud bang wakes you sometime later and you sit up with a small gasp, clutching the linen bed sheets. Whipping your head around, you can see the dark night sky still looms heavily over the city through the slats in the window – you must’ve not been asleep very long. 

Another cry from somewhere outside finally gets you moving and you quickly wrap yourself in an embroidered silk robe, tying it loosely around your waist as you move closer to the door, your ears perked at the sound of frantic whispers. Poking your head through the beaded curtain that separates the sleeping quarters from one of the hallways, you finally spot a familiar face in the dim candlelight. 

“Genna!” You whisper, waving one of the other working girls over, “What’s going on, what’s happened?”

“Gold Cloaks!” She hisses, working quickly to stuff an armful of dresses into a small bag, “They’ve gone mad, they’re rounding up damn near everyone out there!”

“Gone mad?” You echo, brows pinching together as you look toward the entrance, another muffled cry from outside catching your attention, along with the sounds of metal clanging against metal. 

Genna merely nods as she practically shoves past you to get into the room before quickly loading her bag with various perfumes, oils, and loose jewelry from one of the vanities, “One of the regulars came by, woke everyone up,” she explains as she quickly ties the bag off, “They’re taking in anyone who’s so much as nicked an apple from the market.”

Your eyes go wide at her words, head ringing as blood rushes to your cheeks. Thankfully, she seems too busy to notice you glance warily at your bed, knowing your lockbox with weeks worth of lifted coins is tucked neatly below it. 

“I’m telling you, if you’ve pocketed even one extra groat, you’re as good as dead,” She shakes her head as she slings her bag over one shoulder, “Get out while you can, yeah? I think they’re a ways away st–”

A deafening crash from the front of the building cuts her off, the both of you shrieking. Your heart pounds in your chest at the sound of men’s voices; yours and Genna’s heads swivel to face one another at the same time before you both glance at the large wardrobe in the corner of the room – big enough for someone to climb inside of. 

It seems you both have the same idea at the same time, each of you scrambling toward the cupboard. She’s a second behind you, though, her hefty bag slowing her by an instant and she yelps as you pull the wooden doors closed, pinching one of her fingers. You push yourself as far back in the cramped space as you can, trying to tuck yourself behind the hanging coats and dresses.

Finally, you stay as still as possible, chest heaving as your back presses into the wood behind you. You hear a muffled curse from Genna before she shrieks as heavy footsteps flood into the room. 

“Shut it, whore!” A guard yells and the sound of a harsh slap makes you cover your mouth with a hand. 

“Careful!” A different voice shouts as more heavy footsteps sound outside, “She’s a woman, not a shadowcat,” the new voice admonished, “Take her outside with the others, then go ahead and take the wagons to the dungeons below the Keep. No harm is to come to any of them, understood?”

“But the Commander sai–”

“I don’t give a shit what the Commander said,” the man all but growled, “I am your superior still, soldier, you take orders from me; I’ll worry about him. The night’s gotten out of hand as it is.”

“Yes, Captain,” the first man grumbles after a second. Heavy footsteps sound for an instant before Genna shrieks again, “I said shut it, whore!” The man’s voice is a bit muffled this time, further away. 

“Tell the Commander I’m searching in here!” The second voice calls out gruffly; silently, you curse. 

You hold yourself as still as possible as the muffled sounds of opening drawers and cabinets sound from outside the wardrobe, slowly but surely getting closer to you. Your heart leaps into your throat as the wardrobe doors are tugged open, yet you hold yourself still and squeeze your eyes closed, a naïve part of you hoping the soldier would just overlook you.

Of course that doesn’t happen. 

“I do see you, you know,” the gruff voice sighs, his eyes on you, “Come on, out,” he commands. 

Finally, you open your eyes and peek at him through gaps of fabric, warily taking in his appearance. Your eyes widen at his size, truly a mountain of a man, with curly dark hair and matching dark eyes, clad in metal plate armor with a familiar golden cloak around his shoulders. The look in his eyes is neutral, if not sympathetic, but you still don’t move, rooted to the spot. 

With another sigh, he shakes his head at you and beckons you forward with a wave of his hand, “Please make this easy.” 

When you still don’t move after a few more seconds, the man grumbles and reaches in, shoving past various articles of clothing until he grabs at your forearm and pulls you, stumbling, from the wardrobe. 

“Let me go!” You cry, struggling in his grasp like a fish on a line, “Let me go, damn you! I haven’t done anything!” You shriek loudly, uselessly kicking your feet as he holds you steady at arms length. 

“Easy!” The dark-haired man shouts over your screeches, “If you’ll just calm–”

“What’s this?” Another voice questions from the doorway, making both of you pause. Your eyes widen when you see the man, dressed in the same gold cloaked armor as the one holding you, though this one has purple eyes and pale white hair cascading over his shoulders, complete with a familiar face you’d seen before in the shadowy corners of the brothel, “Is that her?”

Her? You balk, glancing between the two men, They were looking for me?

The brunette stays silent for a moment, bushy brows furrowed together as he looks between you and the prince, brown eyes meeting two sets of purple, “She’s not… one of his, is she?” He asks quietly, only confusing you more. 

Prince Daemon merely chuckles and shakes his head as he traipses toward you with a smirk. “Ohh, no, definitely not,” he mutters, squeezing your cheeks in one large, gloved hand as he forces your face to lift up toward his, “No, my dearest brother would never dare betray his wife so.”

He tilts your head from side to side, studying your face carefully, before making you face him once again as the other guard keeps hold of your arm, “What’s your name, girl?”

You glance between the men, caged in between their large frames, before finally telling them, each syllable merely a whisper on your lips.

The prince repeats it with a smug smile, the sound of your name on his tongue makes your head spin. “Ah, see, just as I thought,” he smirks, a pleased twinkle in his violet eyes, “A Lyseni whore.”

The other man merely grunts, though you don’t miss the way his dark brown eyes flit over your form appreciatively. Daemon moseys around the room, eyes scanning over the row of matching twin beds lined against one wall. “Which is yours?”

“I… I don’t sleep in here, my pr–”

“Lying won’t do you any good, you know,” he smirks, “We’ve had eyes and ears all over the city for months, including here. So, I’ll ask again. Which bed?”

You hesitate, only for a moment, before nodding at the bed to the far right. Your mind reels as Daemon begins his search, Someone was spying in here? One of the other girls?

“Aha!” He says after only a moment and your heart sinks as he pulls your small wooden lockbox out from its hiding spot. He drops it down onto your bed with a gloating smirk and you glance up just in time to see one of the prince’s pale hands reaching for the key at your neck, easily tugging it off the chain as you gasp and jerk once more in the other man’s grasp. “That was a gift from my father!”

“Daemon, please,” the other man sighs tiredly, scrambling to hold you in place once more, “Was that truly necessary?”

“Don’t start with me, Strong,” the prince huffs, moving to unlock the box, “You’ve spoiled my night of fun enough as is.” A low whistle sounds from his lips as he flips open the lid, quickly shuffling through the various coins, small pieces of jewelry, and other trinkets you’ve managed to swipe. 

“Seems we got the right one after all,” the man holding your arm, the one apparently called Strong, murmurs, nodding toward you.

“Of course we got the right bloody one,” Daemon scoffs, violet eyes rolling in his head, “I only know of two Lyseni whores in this city and it certainly isn’t the other one.” 

“Mysaria!” You whisper lowly, eyes widening as puzzle pieces begin clicking together in your mind.

The prince merely laughs, looking between you and the other knight as if you’ve just told some hilarious joke. “Finally figured it out, eh?” He teases, sauntering over to where you’re still being held. 

As soon as he’s in reach, the guard holding you grabs your other arm as well, holding them both behind your back as if you’d be stupid enough to try anything against two Gold Cloaks. Even if you did manage to free yourself, what would be the point in running now? 

“Seems we have a clever whore on our hands, Strong,” Daemon drawls, grinning when you flinch as he grips your jaw, forcing your eyes to meet his once more, “And a pretty one too. You must earn enough to pay your keep, no? A little exotic flower like you is bound to get plucked at often enough.”

You wait for him to continue speaking but he doesn’t, he simply waits, eyes boring into you as if he’s trying to read your thoughts. For all you know, he can – you’ve heard whispers around King’s Landing of how the Targaryens were supposedly closer to Gods than men. 

“I suppose so, my prince,” you all but squeak a moment later, unable to bear the intense silence any longer. 

“Then tell me,” you gasp as he suddenly turns your head, directing your gaze toward the small wooden lockbox strewn open on your bed, “Why does a well paid whore need to steal? Hm?”

“I wasn’t stealing for me!” You blurt, chest heaving.

“Then why do it?” You startle slightly as the knight behind you speaks, his grip on your wrists loosening enough for you to relax some in his grasp. For someone so gruff and intimidating, there was a distinctive warmth to his voice – a soft, kind lilt. 

With a sigh, you glance between the two men before speaking, “I send it back to my family, once every other moon or so.”

“You send money to your family,” Daemon echos, purple eyes narrowed suspiciously, “In Lys, I presume?”

You simply nod, your eyes downcast as the men share a look over your head.

“Why do you need to send them money?” The Strong guard asks as he releases your arms, brown eyes watching you closely. 

“My father was a merchant,” you begin, nervously fiddling with the tie on your robe, “He would travel to Volantis a few times a year to buy the more exotic goods shipped in from cities further east, from the other side of Slaver’s Bay, to bring back to sell in Lys. He could get a better price for them at home, Westerosi ships rarely go any further than our ports and they were willing to pay more.” 

“And then, one time he left for Volantis and… never came back,” you continue, your voice only a raspy whisper as the back of your throat tightens, “We received word some months later that there had been a slave rebellion in the city and that my father had been killed in it. So, now I send money back so that my mother and siblings are able to pay for our house, because in Lys, if you can no longer afford your land you –”

“You risk becoming a slave yourself,” the brunette knight finishes, sighing sympathetically when you nod.

“How very touching,” the prince mutters, though you can see pity clouding his eyes as well. 

“Perhaps we should just let her go,” the Strong guard says after a moment, making you whip your head toward him in shock, “She isn’t a danger to anyone.”

“She may not be,” Daemon says, crossing his arms over his broad chest, “But a drunken, disgruntled lord who’s discovered his gold missing certainly is.”

The brown haired man hums thoughtfully at his reasoning and both of them eye you for a moment, silence falling over the room. 

Shifting your weight from foot to foot, you silently reason that you have two options – convince them to free you or wind up in a cell beneath the Red Keep. Being locked away simply isn’t an option, not for you, as that would mean being unable to send money to your family and although petty theft doesn’t carry the penalty of death, you know that if anything were to happen to them, you’d wish it did. 

Gathering your courage, you look between the two men, eyeing them up and down. “Perhaps,” you start, loosening the tie on your robe just enough to bare your cleavage just a bit more, “I could convince you that I’m worth much more as a free woman?” 

“Little minx,” the prince rasps, stepping toward you and grasping at your jaw once more, “Maybe you’ll prove useful after all,” he says cryptically. 

Before you have time to dwell on his words, he releases you and busies himself with quickly unbuckling his plate armor, letting the chest and torso pieces noisily clank on the floor as they fall against a pile of gold cloth. 

You gasp as Daemon grabs you by the hips and pulls you to him, pressing himself against you tightly as his rough hands roam over your soft curves. You can’t help but giggle as an appreciative grunt leaves his lips, violet eyes darkening as they meet yours. 

“Daemon,” the other guard starts with a sigh, hand resting on the pommel of his sword. 

“Come, ser Strong,” the prince growls, hastily turning you to face the brown eyed man. Your teeth dig into your bottom lip as you look him up and down, the corners of your lips quirking up into a small smile when you see the flush on his cheeks, “It would be rude to turn down what our little mouse is so generously offering, hm?” The feel of Daemon’s hands on your body makes your eyes flutter closed for just a second, only to snap back open when he roughly grabs at your breasts just as his teeth press against the column of your throat, eliciting a soft cry from you. 

“O-Oh!”

“See? Listen to that,” Daemon says, words muffled against your skin, “She likes it, don’t you?” 

You quickly nod your head yes, head clouded by the feel of the prince’s length as it presses against the small of your back, hard enough to be felt through the trousers they wear under their armor. He chuckles as he suddenly cups your center, the silky fabric of your robe pressing against your already aching flesh, and nips at your neck once more before releasing you. 

“Go,” he murmurs, giving you a gentle push toward the other knight, “Make the stubborn bore more comfortable.”

Biting your lip, you approach the man with a little grin. Standing before him, you move your hand to his shoulder, to the buckles of his plate armor. 

“Is this okay?” 

All he gives you is a curt nod, but it’s enough for you. With another reassuring smile, you pull at the leather buckles, unstrapping them one by one until he grabs at his chest plate and sets it on the floor, more gentle with it than Daemon had been. 

Pausing for a second, you cock your head to the side curiously. “I know him,” you say with a nearly bashful smile, nodding your head at the prince, “But what do I call you, Ser?”

“Harwin, my lady. Just Harwin.”

Still sensing hesitance from him, you decide to be bold and gently take one of his hands and place it on one of your breasts, peering up into his deep brown eyes all the while. Your lips turn up into a pleased smile at the low groan that rumbles from his chest and you marvel at how warm his touch is through your robe, though before you have time to linger on it further, Harwin surges forward and presses his lips against yours. 

You still for a second, not having expected such boldness from a man who had held so much back thus far. Getting your wits about you, you quickly respond in kind and move your lips with his, leaning into him a bit more as you grab at his shoulders. A pleased hum leaves your lips as his hands begin exploring you, seeming to grab and knead at any bits of you he can like he’s been starved for touch for years. 

He groans into the kiss once more when you nip at his bottom lip, prompting him to slip his tongue into your mouth, which earns a small whimper from you as one of your hands slips down from his shoulder to rest on his toned, muscular chest. 

The sudden feel of another presence at your back makes you jump slightly – you’d gotten so wrapped up in Harwin that you’d nearly forgotten that Daemon was still in the room, though the knowledge that he’d been watching the two of you sends an excited zing up your spine. 

“Oh!” You gasp as he begins nipping and biting at your neck once more, soothing the marks he leaves behind with his tongue. Your lips move against Harwin’s as another pair of hands begins exploring you, impatiently tugging at the tie around your waist until your robe falls open. A whine leaves you as the knight’s hands immediately cup your bare breasts, kneading them and savoring the way your soft skin feels against his palms. At the same time, Daemon nearly growls as he presses himself against your ass, grinding his length against you as his hands grip at your hips and waist. 

“I believe you said something about convincing us?” He mutters against your neck, grinning when you pull away from Harwin and meet his gaze as you turn to look over your shoulder, brow raising when you see he’d taken the time to strip off his tunic at some point. 

“Quite right, my prince,” you grin, looking between the two men once more before slipping off your robe, leaving you bare as it pools on the floor. Your cheeks flush at their appreciative groans, skin prickling at the way you can practically feel their eyes on you. 

With another little breath, you lower yourself to your knees between them and immediately skim your hands over their strong thighs. Ever eager, Daemon quickly unties his trousers, a predatory gleam in his purple eyes as he frees his hardening length. 

You bite your bottom lip at the sight of it and quickly reach up to wrap a hand around it, marveling at the way it hardens steadily under your touch. “I think you’ll find I can be very persuasive,” you murmur, softly licking over the tip before sealing your lips around it and suckling gently while you gaze up at him, batting your lashes enticingly. 

“Fuck,” he breathes, long fingers threading into your hair as his head tips back. You grin around him, bobbing your head while you stroke over the rest of his length with a hand, laving your tongue over the head. 

Not forgetting about Harwin, you shift your gaze to him as your other hand palms his length where it presses against the rough fabric of his trousers, already hard and wanting. That seems to be the final straw for him and he scrambles to undo the ties, brown eyes glued to where your lips are wrapped around the prince’s hard cock. 

Your eyes widen when his length finally springs free and you let Daemon slip from your lips as your mouth falls open. “Seven Hells,” you murmur, watching as Harwin strokes a hand over his cock, a proud smirk on his lips. 

“Well now, that must be where your damn stubborn attitude comes from, Strong,” the prince teases, chest heaving as you continue stroking a hand over his length. 

Unable to resist, you brush the knight’s hand away before grasping his cock in your own, heart skipping a beat as your fingers hardly touch around the girth of it. You lean over and lick up the length of him, from the base to the very tip, before taking him into your mouth, bobbing your head in the same way you did with Daemon. 

It takes a few moments, but eventually you settle into a good rhythm – stroking one man’s member with your hand while you suck and lick at the others, swapping every few moments or when one of them gets impatient enough to tug you over by the hair. 

It’s easy to lose yourself in the cacophonous sounds of grunts and growls above you, at the way each man’s fingers thread into your hair differently. Daemon’s grip is much rougher, more commanding, as he drags you exactly where he wants, pushing and pulling your head along his cock in an exacting rhythm. 

Harwin, on the other hand, is more gentle — his tugs seeming more like suggestions than commands. Unlike the prince, he strokes over your hair gently as you attend to him, letting you set your own pace. Anytime your eyes meet his, he looks at you with awe almost, hairy chest heaving as his hips twitch, holding himself back from fucking your face in the way he wants. 

Daemon has no such qualms, hasn’t the patience to resist tugging at your hair as he presses your mouth lower and lower down his cock, relishing the way you choke and sputter. His violet, half-lidded gaze sends shivers through you each time your eyes meet, the look in his eyes echoing the fierce dragon’s blood flowing in his veins. 

Surprisingly, it’s Harwin that breaks first, tossing back his head with a low groan after some minutes and pulling you off of his cock. 

“What—?” You scarcely get the word out before his lips are on yours once again, tongue licking into your mouth. 

“Need you,” he mumbles simply, glaring as Daemon snickers behind your back. “Please,” he breathes, voice softer this time. 

“You needn’t ask,” Daemon drawls, pressing himself against your side as his hands paw at your breasts, pinching and pulling at your nipples and chuckling at the way you whine, “She’s a whore.” 

You roll your eyes playfully at the remark and grab Harwin’s hand, leading him toward one of the bigger rooms of the brothel. “That may be true, but perhaps I like a man with some decorum, my prince,” you call over your shoulder, chuckling as Daemon follows hot on your heels. 

You lead the men to one of the fancier rooms, one laden with imported ornate rugs and silken lamps that give it a warm red glow, complete with a giant circular daybed with plenty of room for all three of you. After all, if the brothel is empty, why not take advantage of it?

Putting on your very best show, you push at Harwin’s hairy chest until he sits back on the edge of the bed before walking over to him with a sly smirk, hips swaying enticingly. A chuckle leaves your lips when his eyes widen as you climb on his lap, your thighs bracketing his. 

“Is this ok –” His lips are on yours before you can finish the question; the both of you move a bit more desperately now, though his touches are no less attentive as his hands skim over your waist and up your back. 

Suddenly, you’re tugged away from Harwin’s lips with a little gasp as one of Daemon’s hands laces through the hair at the crown of your head, drawing you back until your spine is arched. 

“Forgetting someone?” He teases, lightly wrapping his other hand around your neck in a way that sends pleasant tingles down to your already aching center. You shake your head no, teeth biting into your bottom lip as Harwin’s cock twitches between your legs.

“Never, my prince,” you murmur, smiling into the kiss as Daemon presses his lips against yours. His movements are more urgent than Harwin’s and it soon dissolves into a battle of teeth and tongues; you mewl into his mouth when the hand around your neck slides down your chest and palms eagerly at one of your breasts. 

Though they’re closed, your eyes roll back as Harwin leans forward and begins mouthing at the side of your neck, his wavy hair tickling your shoulder. Soon enough, both men are pawing greedily at your chest, making your head spin – both of their touches are so different: where Daemon is rough, pinching at your nipple until you gasp and whine into his kiss, Harwin is gentle and uses his thumb to tease at the other until he feels you shivering on his lap. 

The knight surprises you once more when his touch skirts down over your stomach before his fingers run through your folds, making you jerk from Daemon’s grasp with a moan. Your cheeks flush slightly at the sight of the little victorious grin on Harwin’s face as he expertly circles your pearl, watching closely at the way his touch makes you squirm and grind down against his hard length. 

“That’s it,” he husks, grunting as your grasp tightens on his shoulders, nails digging into his lightly tanned skin, “Need to warm you up, don’t I?”

Beside you, Daemon scoffs as he stands straight once more, fingers still threaded through your hair. “Please,” he huffs, sliding closer to where you sit on the knight’s lap, until his length is practically brushing against your cheek, “Whores don’t need warming, Strong. You may as well take her.”

Before you have time to so much as register the jab, Harwin slips a thick finger inside you in the same instance that Daemon manhandles his cock into your waiting mouth, muffling your whimpers. Both men growl as they take you, the knight’s finger fucking easily into your wet channel as the prince’s length slides against your tongue once more. 

You can hardly do more than ragdoll in their grasp, mewling while Harwin fingers you open, adding a second digit after a moment and crooking them in a way that makes your hips rut eagerly into his touch while Daemon takes from you as he pleases, fucking into your throat with loud growls and grunts. 

Below you, Harwin groans as he easily presses a third finger into your heat, watching you carefully as he does and smirking when you show no signs of discomfort. “Think you’re ready for me,” he murmurs, chuckling when you nod your head as best as you can. As desperate as you are to be filled properly, you can’t help but let out a little petulant whine as he pulls his fingers from you. 

“Patience,” he grunts, shifting you on his lap enough to reach between your bodies and fist his length, grinning at the way you squirm eagerly as he runs the head through your slick folds. His chest reverberates under your palms when he growls as he finally grabs at your hips and pulls you down steadily over his thick cock, half-lidded eyes staring down at where you both connect, “Fuck, there you go.”

You pull away from Daemon with a loud gasp, sucking in a lungful of air, chest heaving as your walls pulse around the knight, savoring the way his stretches you open. “Gods!” You cry, wriggling in his hold as you grind against him, your hips moving of their own accord. 

Daemon huffs, annoyed, and tries dragging you back onto his cock a few times to no avail, quickly becoming irritated at the way you mindlessly clench your jaw closed each time Harwin’s cock presses against the sensitive spot within you. 

“Poor little whore,” the prince sighs exasperatedly, once again tugging your head back until your eyes meet his, “Too distracted, hm?”

You open your lips to reply, only to gasp dazedly as Harwin thrusts up into you from below, muscular thighs flexing under your own. “Give her a moment,” he grunts, gripping your hips to guide you over his length.

The prince merely tsks, pulling at your hair again until your eyes pop open; a shiver goes through you at the smirk that graces his lips, as if he knows something you don’t. “Tell me,” he starts, carding his long fingers through your hair, “Have you ever taken two cocks at once?”

“N – fuck!” You gasp, eyes rolling back briefly as Harwin ruts up into you quickly, evidently excited by the idea, “N-No.” 

“Hmm,” Daemon hums, smirk only widening, “Then I know just the way to get your attention.”

He moves away from you quickly, letting your head flop back uselessly as he walks swiftly to a small cabinet in the corner of the room where the Madam keeps a small stock of massage oils and lotions. You straighten just in time to watch as he stalks back over to you and Harwin, a vial of oil in hand. “I trust you have at least some experience with this, yes?” He questions, letting out a pleased hum when you nod. 

The two men share a look between them and you mewl as Harwin lays back against the day bed, pulling you with him until you’re lying against his chest, making you gasp as the change in angle presses his length squarely against the most sensitive spot within you. 

“Hold her steady,” Daemon murmurs behind you, uncorking the little bottle of oil.

The knight grunts when you tighten around him and one of his hands abandons its hold on your hip to cup one of your cheeks, his touch surprisingly delicate for a man of his stature. “Excited?” He questions, brown eyes studying your face carefully. 

Any reply dies on your lips in lieu of an eager gasp when you feel the prince’s presence behind you, his hips nearly touching your rear as he slots himself between Harwin’s legs. Still, you nod your head earnestly, sending pearlescent hair cascading over your shoulders to pool on the knight’s chest.

Harwin’s chest rumbles with a satisfied hum, though you’re left gasping at the feel of one of Daemon’s hands deftly parting your arse cheeks, swiftly followed by massage oil being drizzled between them, filling the room with the scent of lavender. When you jolt slightly at the feel of a finger skirting over your entrance, the prince is quick to reprimand you with a sharp slap to the rear, leaving your skin tingling in its wake. 

“You’re going to be good for us?” Harwin questions, drawing your attention back to him as he smooths a thumb over your cheekbone. 

“Y-Yes, yes,” you nod listlessly, breaths staggered as Daemon fingers you open, expertly preparing you. Again, you earn a pleased hum from the man below you. 

The next few moments pass in a blur – your head spins as the prince readies you and Harwin placates you all the while with gentle caresses and kisses, even snaking a hand between your bodies to rub at your aching pearl.

Finally, Daemon seems satisfied and pulls his fingers from you before slotting himself against you, quickly slicking up his cock with more of the oil before pressing the head against your opening, grinning smugly when you press back against him. 

“Fuck, there we go,” he rasps, carefully sliding his length into you until his hips meet your backside. 

A high, whining keen is pulled from your lungs at the stretch, tingles shooting up your spine and making you shudder at the feel of being this filled. You can do little more but gasp, pinned between two muscular bodies, as the men start to move. The feel of it is like none other, a constant push and pull as they thrust in and out of you in tandem. 

“G-Gods, fuck!” You finally cry, managing to suck in a lungful of air as your nails dig into Harwin’s chest. 

The knight beneath you isn’t faring much better than you are, a near constant stream of deep grunts and groans leaving his lips as he feels you tighten on his cock. “By the Seven, you feel divine,” he mumbles, making you cry out as he pulls you to him, strong hands encircling your waist as he mouths at your shoulder, biting at your skin.

Above you, Daemon’s violet eyes remain fixed on your ass, savoring the way it bounces each time his hips smack against it, watching as his length spears into you again and again. “What a good little whore,” he grunts, words short and clipped as he clenches his jaw. A stuttered moan is pulled from you as he grabs at your backside, fingers do doubt leaving bruises in their wake as he gropes you, “Taking us so well.”

Your muscles tense at the praise as your high threatens to overwhelm you, looming in a small pit in your belly that’s growing bigger and bigger with each passing second. Your walls tighten around Harwin again, making him hiss beneath you. 

“Gonna, Gods, I –” you cry, eyes squeezing shut as the knight bullies the sensitive spot within you, pounding against it with each rough thrust, making your words die on your tongue. 

Thankfully, Harwin understands perfectly, balancing on that thin precipice himself – the cacophonous litany of your moans and whines along with the lewd, wet sounds of their cocks plunging into you again and again only serving to push him further to his own end. 

“That’s it,” the knight rasps, grabbing your chin with one hand and directing your attention toward him once more, “Go on, peak, let me feel it.”

His command, along with another hard smack to your rear from Daemon, send you hurtling over the edge with a sharp, loud cry. You lose all sense between them, muscles clenching and relaxing rhythmically as your whole body seems to erupt into flame. 

The gorgeous look on your face, along with the steady pulse of your walls around him, finish Harwin as well. A deep groan, complementary to your own high-pitched whines, is all but punched from his chest as his length twitches within you, painting your walls with his spend. 

As your peak slowly settles, like waves receding at low tide, you’re left gasping, clinging to Harwin as Daemon still thrusts wildly into you, chasing his own high. Desperate to feel you clench around him once more, the prince reaches around, over your hip, and his greedy fingers quickly find your bud. 

“Oh!” You gasp, squirming in the knight’s grasp as the prince’s fingers roughly rub against your pearl, forcibly dragging you right back to the edge you’d just fallen from. 

“Come on,” Daemon grunts, tugging you up by the shoulder until your back presses against his chest, deep, vicious grunts filling your ear, “One more, little whore, fucking do it for me.”

You scramble in his hold, lips parting in a silent cry as your muscles jerk in sharp, uncoordinated movements. Unable to extract yourself from his hold, the overstimulation finally gives way to blinding pleasure once more and you peak with a loud, piercing yelp. 

Daemon grunts behind you, pleased, as your walls all but force a high from him as well. He thrusts into you a few more times, groaning at the feel of your slick coating his fingers and pooling between your bodies. Finally, he lets go, grumbling low words in a language you don’t understand as he fills you. 

The only sounds in the near empty brothel is the sound of staggered pants as the three of you catch your breaths, content to do little more than lie in a heap for a few moments. 

It’s Daemon that moves first, pulling himself from you with a muted grunt before swaggering over to a small vanity, pulling up and tying his trousers as he goes. 

Harwin soothes you with gentle touches as he pulls away, keenly aware of the way you wince at certain movements, overly sensitive now. “Are you okay?” He asks, voice gentler now as he surveys your body, “Nothing hurts?”

You can’t help but chuckle at his concern, so unused to men caring for you once they finish. “I’m fine, I assure you,” your lips quirk into a smile as you soothe his worries, a little sigh leaving your lips as you settle back against the silken sheets that cover the daybed. 

“Here,” Daemon grunts with indifference as he tosses a clean cloth at you, more than familiar with the layout of the place, “To clean yourself.”

You huff softly and roll your eyes playfully before grabbing the small towel and standing to wipe spend and extra oil from your skin, making a mental note to heat water for a proper bath as soon as the men leave. 

It’s then that it occurs to you that they may not let you stay, what if even this wasn’t enough to secure your freedom, to get them to overlook your transgressions? 

“So,” you start, discarding the cloth in a laundry basket by the vanity before turning and facing the men, surprised to find Harwin’s eyes already on you, “Forgive and forget, yes? The debt has been paid, etcetera?”

They share a look as they dress themselves, Daemon loosely pulling on his armor, opting to tuck most of it beneath an arm, though Harwin takes the time to fasten his properly. 

“Oh, I think you’ve more than convinced us to spare you, little minx,” the prince drawls, eyes roving over your still nude form as he approaches you and takes your chin between two long fingers, “As for your debt, well…”

You grin as he trails off, two pairs of purple eyes sliding over to Harwin. 

“There’s still the interest to consider,” he murmurs with a little chuckle, dark eyes sparkling with mirth.

thank you for taking the time to read! hope you enjoyed! :)

[aphroditelovesu]

Yan!Parents Daemon/Rhaenyra Targaryen Headcanons (Platonic)

❝ 🐉 — lady l: Are these headcanons good? I don't know, but I hope you like it!! Forgive me for any mistakes ;) 🩵🤍

❝tw: obsessive and possessive behavior, overprotection, mention of death and murder, unhealthy platonic relationships and messy writing.

❝🐉pairing: platonic yandere!daemyra x gender neutral!reader.

Rhaenyra and Daemon were looking forward to the arrival of their first child. Daemon already had two daughters and Rhaenyra her three precious boys, but they were very eager for the first fruit of their marriage to be born.

The day Rhaenyra gave birth to you was one of the happiest memories of her life. The pain of childbirth was excruciating, but when she could hold you in her arms, it was all worth it.

Daemon actually sobbed when he held you for the first time. You were so small, so innocent and so perfect. He swore to himself that he would do anything to be good to you. You would be loved and adored forever.

They are both extremely overprotective and possessive over you. You are their child, you belong to them, so you should not associate with anyone they do not approve of.

Any friends you may have will be investigated by Daemon and if he finds anything that displeases him, that friend will disappear from your life. He is not objective, if that person's great-grandfather was an bastard, for example, that means they will never be good to you. And you deserve only the best.

Rhaenyra not only agrees with this, but encourages her uncle-husband's actions. You are her baby, the most precious person in her life and she only wants the best for you. She will give you the best, she knows what is good for you. After all, mom always knows best, right?

Your older siblings would also have developed their own obsession with you, encouraged by their parents. It didn't take long for the Velaryon brothers and Daemon's daughters to become completely attached to you.

You were not only your parents' obsession, but also your siblings, meaning you can bet no harm would be done to you. You were spoiled and protected, the apple of everyone's eye in Dragonstone.

Whatever you want, you will have. Rhaenyra and Daemon are completely soft when it comes to disciplining you, just one puppy look and they will forget everything. You are their child, you could do no wrong in their eyes.

Everyone is instructed to spoil and protect you, the servants, the guards and your brothers will do so willingly too.

Daemon is very possessive, he feels entitled to you because you are his child. He will kill anyone who looks, says, or even breathes wrong at you. There's no way he's going to let anything happen to you.

Rhaenyra is more controlled, but she is still a dragon and you should never mess with a dragon's offspring. She loses all her senses, her reason when something happens to you. Even if it's a paper cut, she will go into a frenzy of rage.

Any love interests or suitors will also be dealt with quickly. They won't allow you to get married, no one will ever be good enough for you.

If something were to happen to you, gods be good, for the true fury of the Targaryens would be revealed. They will burn, kill and destroy everything in their path for you. All that matters is you, the war will be forgotten by you.

And when it was just ashes and the smell of blood and death was in the air, they would be satisfied. Daemon and Rhaenyra will go to extremes for you. You are their baby and no one, absolutely no one, can change that.

Daemon and Rhaenyra will not lose anyone else, not their child. And when the war for the Iron Throne begins, you would be locked in and protected the entire time. Your parents love you and would do anything, but they don't know boundaries or privacy. It doesn't matter, after all, they are your parents.

[wh0reforcoriolanussnow]

Stay with me || D. Targaryen x Hightower!reader

GIF by @beaconofthehightower DIVIDERS by @straywords

summary: In which you have been forced into marriage with the Rogue Prince by the King. However, it has been well over a year and the two of you yet to see eye to eye, mostly because of Daemon's dislike towards your father. When you find out that you're expecting, things seem to take a drastic turn.

a/n: no way this was sitting in my drafts since i first opened this acc end of last year🥹

“The bath is ready for you, my Lady.” The handmaiden bowed at your direction as you finish taking off your jewellery. “Thank you, you may go,” You bid her off, “But my Lady-“ She protested, “I am quite capable of bathing myself, thank you.” Meeting the maidens eyes through the mirror, you didn’t mean to sound rude and snap at the poor women—your pent up emotions needed releasing, hence why you called for a bath.

Without uttering another word, you watch as she closes the door with a loud thud. Throwing your necklace across the room to release the built up tension, you inhale deeply whilst leaning your hand against the bed post. Tears threatening to escape, you look up towards the ceiling so that they would not fall.

Finding out that you were with child was a rollercoaster of emotions. You were saddened at the thought of bringing a child into this cruel word. How could you try to make your child’s life happy when both of his/her parents were not with each other?

You thought that you could some how find times in your marriage that you would be happy, but you didn’t, the past 12 months were a nightmare. You barely got to see Daemon, and when you did, he’d be drunk and fall asleep without saying a word to you.

And the whispers and talks of people seeing him visit brothels in silk street were unbearable. You tried ignoring the best you could, but how could you when people didn’t even put any effort into quietening down when walking past you?

Brushing your lingering thoughts away, you walk to the bath that was bearably hot. Removing your thin night gown and letting it pile in a corner, you couldn’t help but stare at your still-flat stomach in the mirror. The thought of a babe growing inside was both amazing and terrifying.

Slipping your body in, a sigh leaves your mouth at the sensation of the hot water against your skin. After nearly 30 minutes, the door to your chambers opened.

There was only ever one person to open that door without bothering to knock, and that was your Husband. Eyes closed, you heard his footsteps until it came to a halt, slowly opening your eyes and sitting up, you turn your head to find Daemon watching you from outside the door that led to the bathroom.

“Husband.” You greeted turning your head back and closing them once again. “Wife.” He replied, taking off his clothes and changing. You were surprised he did not sound drunk like he usually did most nights. The two of you not uttering a single word until you got out of the bath.

You flinch once you realised Daemon was sat on a one of the sofas that faced your bath tub, not that the two of you were foreign to seeing each other naked. After drying up, you slip your night gown on once again before making your way to your dresser.

“Ao nektogon aōha ōghar, nyke ūndegon” His voice made you pause your actions, looking at his sat figure through the mirror. “2 two months ago Daemon.” You reply annoyed as you brush through your hair. “But you would know if you saw me more often.” Muttering under your breath, Daemon replied, “ȳdragon plainly.”(You cut your hair, I see) (Speak plainly)

Closing you eyes and taking a sharp inhale, you turn your body towards him, a cup with what you presume was alcohol in his hand. “What I mean, husband, is if you were here more often instead of spending your nights at the brothel, that you would notice the little things!” Your voice escalates in volume. Daemon throws his head back with a loud sigh. “Are we really doing this?”

“Where do your loyalties reside, husband? It is most certainly not with me! Whom you swore under the seven Gods that you would be there for me!” You were now standing up as you watch Daemon with an unreadable face.

“Ivestragon mirros!”You yell, “Skoro syt issi ao sir mentioning bisa?” He calmly asked. With furrowed eyebrows, you study his face, his gaze set to candles on the table. “Skoros?”(Say something) (Why are you now mentioning this) (What)

“Don’t act stupid y/n,” He scoffed, finally meeting your eyes, “Emi issare married syt mirri jēda, sir ao decide naejot elēni aōha concerns?” (We have been married for some time, now you decide to voice your concerns)

“Ivestragon nyke, skoro syt?” His deep voice questioned. Searching his eyes, and opening your mouth, no words seemed to come out. (Tell me, why)

“Cat got your tongue, my love?” Daemon smirked as you gulped, tears slowly but surely welling up. You found yourself pathetic, truth being the fact that you couldn’t even tell your own husband you were carrying his child.

Without saying another word, you turned around, blowed out all the candles except for the ones beside Daemon’s side of the bed, and slipped under the covers of your bed.

A loud sigh leaves the Prince’s mouth. Deep down, you wanted him to come to bed and engulf you in a hug. Instead, you hear the sound of the doors opening and closing, he left. You cried yourself to sleep that night.

~

Waking up to a cold and empty bed, you felt it slowly but surely making its way up your throat as you place the back of your hand to your mouth. Luckily, Eva, your closest handmaiden, had walked in just in time as you puked into the bucket.

“Perhaps having breakfast will be good for you, my Lady” She kindly smiles at you as you look up at her with a disgusted face at the thought of food at that moment. “I think not” You grumbled before getting up and getting ready.

“Has my husband returned yet?” Your eyes meet with the handmaidens’ through the mirror as you put earrings on. “No, my Lady” She looks down. “Should I even tell him?” You contemplate, fidgeting with your rings.

Before you could get a response, a loud knock comes from your door as you give a confused look to Eva as she quickly opens the door. “My lady, it’s your father.” She calls out before curtsying and leaving the room.

“Father,” You kiss his cheek to greet him. “I think it is best you go to the throne room now” He gives you a blank look. An awkward chuckle leaves your lips, “But why? What’s happening?” Concern spread through your body as Otto doesn’t say anything.

You quickly brush past him and make a beeline to the throne room. Upon entering, you were stopped by a kingsguard. “Who is in there” You question. “I cannot tell you that Lady-“ “I’m only going to ask you once, brother, who is in there?” You send daggers to your younger brother’s way.

“His Grace, Daemon, and-“ Before he could finish his sentence, you push past him and open the door. There sat Viserys on the iron throne with Daemon standing e of him, his back to you. What perplexed you even more was the women on her knees beside Daemon. A handmaiden to be precise. Viserys gives you a pitiful look, It was only when both Daemon and the handmaiden look back to you when you realise.

“I-“ You couldn’t even properly speak as you choked back tears. You felt like screaming at that moment. “Y/n-“ You didn’t even let Daemon utter another word before you closed the door—Gwayne giving you a concerned look—and sped off back to your room.

“Pack my things. I am leaving” You order your handmaidens as tears continuously roll down your cheeks. You were shaking, you felt like you were suffocating. “Are you all right my lady?” Eva places ger hand on your shoulder as you breathe heavily. “I-I need to get out of this dress- a-and breathe for gods sake!” You shout angrily as hands were already untying your dress.

You had about enough of Daemon’s behaviour. You needed to leave. After being dressed in something more comfortable, the doors open as your father walks in. “I assume you’re going back to Old town?” Your father places his hands behind his back as he watches you gather your jewelry.

“I am. If you expect me to stay here any longer with that-that horrid man then-“ “I don’t expect you to, daughter. He was caught in bed with her this morning. I assure you, that handmaiden will get what she deserves. Sleeping with her Lady’s husband, what was she thinking” Otto scoffs as tears blur your eyes.

“Have you even told him yet?” His question catches you off-guard. “No. After what I just found out I don’t think I will. He can find out later on after I’ve left” You say through greeted teeth as the last of your things were packed up.

“The carriage is already out there waiting for you, my Lady” Eva mentions as you nod at her. “Goodbye father, I hope you do come visit” You sadly smile before embracing him in a hug, his hands caressing your hair before you pull back and walk off.

It was pouring outside. You held your skirt up so it wouldn’t get dirty. “Y/n!” His voice booms over the rain as you pause. You quicken your pace but before you could even fully step into the carriage, a rough hand pulls you back.

Before you know it, your hand makes contact with his cheek with a loud slap. The few handmaidens gasp before they look down. He rolls his tongue against his cheek before chuckling, “I deserve that, don’t I?” “Oh you deserve so much worse Daemon.” You darkly chuckle at the man.

“I can’t believed you stooped that low- and with one of my handmaidens? How pathetic can you get, Husband. I have done nothing but been patient with you every day but this? That was the final straw. I’m leaving and you cannot stop me” You say the last bit through greeted teeth. “Were you going to tell me?”

You stop dead in your tracks. You breathe out from your nose, “Tell you what exactly?” Your head turns to him. “That you’re carrying my child. Was I ever going to find out? Or was I going to when I’m on my deathbed.” He shouts angrily as you keep your composure.

“And bring him up with a father who can’t even keep his loyalties to his wife? You’re delusional, truly.” A loud scoff emits your mouth. Not a second later, Daemon drops to his knees infront of you. People around whispering to each other at the sight of the Rogue Prince on his knees to his wife. You gulp as he looked so vulnerable. He looks up to you as he takes ahold of your hands. “Stay with me. Please. That is all I ask of you y/n” He pleads.

“Stay with you? I have stayed with you every day Daemon while you fucked your way through the brothels. I’ve had enough of hoping that you would finally see me as your wife!” Tears were once again pouring down your cheeks as you sniffle. “I can’t stay with you.” Your voice cracks before you pull away from Daemon’s touch and enter the carriage without looking back.

The carriage starts to move as you start sobbing harder. Daemon was still there kneeling as he watched his wife leave. He watched his entire future leave.

[ghostssimp]

Aegon Targaryen//The Right One

As a daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen, you were supposed to find a man who would take your hand in marrige. It's your duty to be wed away. Your grandfather Viserys, he made a royal gathering to find the best suitor for you.

The real problem is, you had one in your eyes.

Aegon Targaryen. Your uncle. It looked like history was repeating itself, thinking how your mother fell for Daemon. Targaryens always had traditions that others found weird, but to keep the blood pure, sometimes you have to do what you have to do. Even Alicent, who first was against it, was thinking of marrige between Aegon and Haelena. In the end, Haelena got married to Aemond.

As you stand in the corner of the room, you see how a lot of men are having their eyes on you. Eating ypu with the looks of desire and need for power. You were just a pawn to them. Greedy bastards only wanted to have a little part in the game of getting closer to the crown. The sad truth is that they had no idea what it meant to be on the top.

You're always watched. Can't have a moment for yourself. Every step that you take is carefully watched by everyone. Every desicion is important and there is no place for mistakes. And as for women? You knew you were here for them to just spread your legs and give them a new heir. They didn't care for you. They didn't want you for love. Just to use you.

"Pretty boring out here, isn't it princess?" There is a low voice next to your ear and you can't help but smile as shiver runs down your spine. "I should be honored, my prince." Your eyes met his lilac. "After all, this is for my engagement."

Aegon scoffs, his eyes scanning the place. "Yes, but to whom?" His eyebrow rises as he takes a step closer, brushing the lock of hair from your face. "Neither of them are worthy of you."

Your breath hitched as your lips parted for a bit."And who is it then? I am nothing but a tool." Aegon looks at you, something battleing inside of his eyes. They always seemed distant, but when he talked to you, it felt like everything made sense back.

You were the only one to understand his pain. To understand his preassure. Who said he wanted to be a damn king as his mother was expecting him to be? Who said he wanted this life? His mother was always preaparing him for the big role he didn't wanted. To hell, his father didn't even look at him and he had to be ready to be a king?

"You are so much more than that." His fingers grazed beneath your chin, barely touching it leaving a ghost feeling underneath. His thumb crosses over your lips. The feeling of his rough skin on your soft lips made you feel like it was supposed to be like that. For your lips to belong to him. To any part of him. He glanced away, clenching his jaw. He was in a deep thought as he walked off.

Your eyes follow him as he gets lost in a crowd. You felt like you should've ran after him. You wanted to, but you were sceptic.

"Why is such a lady standing alone?" My head turns to see one of the lords over. Tyland Lannister. You never liked Lannisters. In your eyes, they were just a one more pawn that wanted to become a closer to a king. Maybe even to become a king.

"Just enjoying the gathering, my lord." You give him a polite smile. You didn't want to engage the conversation, but he seemed too interested in you. "Well, the night is long, and the songs are delightfull like you. Would you give me an honor, and give me your hand for a dance?" He chuckled extending his hand out.

You clench your jaw your lips in a thin line. "I really don't feel like dancing, my lord." His face changed to a frown. "Oh, am I not worth of a dance with your grace?" Something bubbled in you with his words. Anger, for him to use a guilt card. You didn't want to make a scene. You were a royalty afer all.

"That is not what I said, my lord." You take his hand. "Of course I would like to dance." There was a smug smile on his lips. You knew what he wanted. His grip got more like a possesive one as he pulled you onto the dance floor. His other hand held the small of your back. It felt like he was holding you too tight. Like he held you with greed.

Despite you trying to hide your discomfort, Tyland pulls you even closer and held you tightly to him. The two of you danced in a dead silence. You started to look around the place, trying to find someone to save you. To get you away. Your eyes searching around, it seemed like you were looking for a specific person. "Something is on your mind, princess?"

You look up to him giving him a fake sweet smile. "Not at all." When you look away, your eyes finally meet his with a pleading look in them. Aegon as soon as he catched your eye, stopped in his tracks and seemed to process the situation. He starts to make his way towards you, his eyes never leaving yours.

As Tyland takes you in for a spin, you extend your hand and Aegon takes it pulling you away and swaying off with you in a dance.

Aegon seemed proud with a smug smirk on his lips. "Tief." You say under your breath, feeling how he held you much more gentle as the two of you took off in a dance.

Aegon laughs heartly at your statement shaking his head. "You seemed like you needed rescuing." You nod your head, gazing up at him."You stole my heart, you stole me from my dancing partner. What is next?"

Aegon grins at your words, enjoying the playful banter between you. He spins you around, pulling you back against him as you continue the dance.

"I'm a greedy man, my princess," he says with a smirk, his hand on your back slipping lower for just a moment before resuming its usual position. "I'll steal whatever I can get my hands on."

His eyes never left yours. There was a glint of something in them. "Stop looking at me like that."

Aegon raises an eyebrow, his smirk growing wider at your words. "Like what?" He asks innocently, though the mischievous glint in his eyes betrays him. You have to bite the smile that wanted to escape your lips. "Like I'm a dinner."

"Oh, believe me, my princess, you're a feast fit for a king." He leans in a little closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "And I'd happily devour every last bit of you." He pulls you impossibly closer, his hold on you possessive but tender at the same time. "Can you blame me for admiring you so? You're far too captivating to ignore." A chuckle escapes your lips.

"Va moriot gīmigon se paktot udir, gaomagon ao daor?" You're always finding the right words, aren't you? His eyes glanced down to your lips as he leaned his head to the side. He hums, you knew he enjoyed when you switched to Valyrian."Ñuha jorrāelagon, you're going to be a death to me." His voice just above a whisper. it was raspy and deep as you look at him in a haze through your lashes.

He leans in closer, his own eyes flickering down to your lips before meeting yours again, a mix of fondness and desire in his expression. "You keep looking at me like that, and I'll have to claim my future wife right here and then." He mumurs softly.

Your lips part in a shock. "Since when am I your future wife?" He smirks smugly, pulling you in, his face just inches away from yours.

"Since now. I'm not letting anyone else claim you. You're mine to have."

[msmorningstaarr]

let me be yours | part II

ao3 | masterlist | < part I |

Pairing: Rhaenyra Targaryen x f!Martell Reader

Word count: 6.6k

Summary: You, a Martell princess who was recently brought into Rhaenyra's courtyard as a sign of goodwill to ensure the unification of the Seven Kingdoms. With time passing on, you feel trapped under the enticing aura of the Dragon Queen and sees yourself desiring her more and more. However, in a delicate situation, is it worth the yearn for your Queen? Would you give in to your needs to have your way with her and find some indulgence?

Warnings: SMUT (18+ MINORS DNI), afab reader, bisexual rhaenyra, canon divergence, longing, age gap (you early 20s rhae mid 30s), fingering, masturbation, oral sex, sub/dom dynamics (rhae dom you sub), overstimulation, scissoring, queen rhaenyra targaryen, nipple play, possessive rhaenyra

a/n: well, it’s been a long time since I don’t post a fic here and I was considering seriously ending my blog (i still do low key and end totally my last social media but let’s ignore that) but I have fun here and I love sharing my stories with you guys. thanks for reading! I hope you all enjoy it <3 comments, reblogs, likes are very much appreciated.

Taglist: @princessanglophile @hiroikegawa @hiraethrhapsody @pet1t3

The next day, Rhaenyra summoned you to visit her again, and you brought your cloak to show her the sewing and embroidery you had completed. Her praise for your work and dedication was effusive, each word like a sweet melody to your ears. As she examined the intricate stitches and delicate patterns, her hand would occasionally brush against yours, a gentle touch that sent a thrill of warmth through your entire being. These fleeting moments of physical contact spoke volumes, conveying an unspoken tenderness and connection between you.

Her gaze remained as intense as ever, locking onto yours with a depth that stirred both admiration and longing within you. There were times when she leaned in closely to speak, her words brushing against your ear with an intimacy that left you breathless. Occasionally, she would press a lingering kiss to your cheek or temple, the softness of her lips leaving an indelible impression.

Each gesture, each touch, each word of affection stirred a flurry of emotions within you. You found yourself wondering if Rhaenyra's actions were merely those of a caring future mother-in-law, or if they hinted at something deeper, something that mirrored your own feelings. The uncertainty added a bittersweet edge to your interactions, blending desire with apprehension as you navigated the delicate dance between duty and desire in her presence.

And each night, you would touch yourself thinking about Rhaenyra.

Finger twirling around your clit.

Daring to play with your entrance.

Mumbled words desperately calling for your Queen.

Fingers down on your cunt until you come undone on your fingers.

Wishing it was on hers.

But after almost a month of engaging in your own pleasure, it came ahead of you the unstoppable moment of your life: your wedding. You remember yourself being a little princess in Dorne, waiting and counting your days to know how long it would take until she would be wedded to someone and there you were, now dreading this moment.

You wished to fulfil your fantasy, you wished to have a way with Rhaenyra. How could you marry her son and still think of her, every night? Marriage is just a piece of paper, Rhaenyra well said, however, would you ever be willing to be the one who brings pleasure, true pleasure, into your life?

There you were, five days away from your wedding, knocking on Rhaenyra’s door to spend your time with her. This time, she asked you to come in your evening garments, a cream nightgown with long, tight sleeves. Your hair was loose and carried no jewellery on your body. The Queen opened up her door for you with a soft smile, signing you to go inside her bedchambers.

“Your Grace.” You courtied her, bending your knee. Rhaenyra raised her eyebrows, silently remembering you of her wish. “Sorry, Rhaenyra. I cannot help but treat you as you deserve.”

Rhaenyra held a smug smile after hearing you call her by her title. Her hands reached yours and entangled your fingers, greeting you in a more intimate manner. “Then as your Queen, I command you to call me by my name, little sun.” The Queen beamed at you, mischievously with her faint, playful smile. You laughed, although still a bit shy. “I apologise for summoning you in the night, my darling.” She began, walking throughout her room.

You followed her and one of her QueensGuard closed the door behind you and finally left the both of you alone. You were nervous, joining your hands on your back as you followed her, trying to disguise your anticipation around Her Grace. “I could not fall asleep and felt in need of your company. You lift my spirits.” The Queen said, sympathetically. Your eyes sparkled as she praised you, heart beating in anticipation and having a weird sense of validation, hence her sweet talk. “I hope I have not interrupted your sleep.”

As if you could ever go slumbering without touching yourself to the thought of Rhaenyra. You beamed briefly and shook your head, finding you a place to stay still, right after Your Grace. “You did not, as I myself have also been in some trouble finding my own sleep, Your Grace.”

Rhaenyra looked at you after a long sigh and her eyes seemed more relaxed when around you. She looked so beautiful in that blue nightgown, honouring her mother, a Lady of Arryn. Her hair was long and thick, she took great joy in braiding it before sleeping, but you would rather see it all loosen down, giving her a more human aspect to her godly, ethereal appearance.

Rhaenyra approached you, involving your hands on hers and grinning, which you grinned back before she led you towards a small table with a jar of wine with two goblets beside it. “We barely had time these days to share our daily moments. It is a shame.”

You started drinking by the same window Rhaenyra teased you, being bathed by the moonlight, Rhaenyra seemed even more stunning when in a more natural state. Rhaenyra drank her own wine but her eyes were locked on you, as it would always be. “I have been missing you, but with the current state of your wedding, we have both been quite busy lately.”

You nodded, positioning your cup on the window to lean your chest over it, watching from afar the lights of Flea Bottom. You didn’t know what to feel or think about it. You had so much time to spend with Jace and he seemed polite, but rather distant from you.

Maybe it was your fault, you should stay away from the Queen’s web, perhaps make more effort to be in acquaintance with your betrothed before the actual wedding. It was a rare thing, to live amongst your future husband, could give some default to the life ahead of you. However, you wasted it. “What troubles your sleep this evening, my sun?”

Your hands were sweaty again, your eyes lowered, looking to the immensity of darkness on the ground. Rhaenyra grabbed your face with her hands and smiled, as a sign of her affection. “I am nervous, Rhaenyra, I must admit.” You started, hesitant. “I have been thinking about what you told me in a former encounter of ours.”

Rhaenyra stared at you, intrigued. Her eyes narrowed, trying to recall their older gatherings. “You have?” Rhaenyra said with a hint of surprise in her eyes. The Queen looked at you with curiosity, trying to remember the words she said in the last moments they shared together. “Continue, dear.” Rhaenyra encouraged you with her gentle smile and her eyes still on yours.

“About marriages, duties and happiness…” You started, taking a smirk from Rhaenyra. Her fingers caressed your chin after squeezing it gently.

“Ah, those words, yes.” Rhaenyra chuckled, nodding her head. She gently cupped your face with her hands, her fingers caressing your cheeks. She took a step forward, standing very close to you.

“That was... very interesting of you to bring it up again.” The woman hummed, staring into your eyes.

You hummed yourself, feeling her lavender oil scent invade your nostrils and involuntarily, you bite your lower lips, feeling the heat grow ridiculously fast as Rhaenyra preyed on you, like a dragon seeking out its food. “And why does Your Grace find it interesting?”

Rhaenyra smiled down in amusement, watching your teeth sink into your lower lip. She traced her thumb over your lower lip, tugging slowly to free it from your teeth. She looked into your eyes, her pupils wide and full of lust.

“Because... I wonder if you remember the words I said that evening…” She said, almost whispering it to you and she leaned in closer.

Your mouth went dry instantly with the pace the gap between your bodies was closing. You remembered it more than well, but lacked the confidence to say it out loud. Not for not trusting in her, but mostly out of fret for what could happen now. She was too close to the pyre and the chances of being burned were immense. Either way, you said it. “A marriage is just a piece of paper.” You mumbled, breathing against her fair skin.

Rhaenyra chuckled lowly, her eyes slowly moving all over your face. She took the time to take in your expressions and your reactions to her body being so close to yours. She saw the way your throat moved slightly when you swallowed. The Queen took another step forward, feeling your chest against her own. She could feel your heart beating against your chest and she had no doubts that you could feel hers too. Rhaenyra could almost feel your breath against her lips as she let out a soft hum. “Correct.” She said, quietly.

“Once we are in a marriage, we can still have our… preferences. I learned it well with my late husband,” Rhaenyra traced her fingertips on your soft lips, attentively staring at it. “Bedding is not the biggest of your problems, my dear, but the lack or opportunity to be vulnerable. It can be the greatest of our strengths or weaknesses.”

Rhaenyra introduced your thumb within your mouth and instinctively, you suckled on it and closed your eyes as she spoke. Your warm tongue licked and pulled her thumb closer in a sultry move. Your cunt was soaked, dripping for Rhaenyra. “Open your eyes and look at me.” She softly commanded and you immediately complied. Your reaction encouraged her and her thumb gently moved under your bottom lip. The silver queen gently brushes it across the plump surface.

“How can something so flawless and beautiful exist in this world?” Rhaenyra muttered to herself. Her gaze never leaves your face. It was surreal, was it really happening to you? Your head was free of thoughts, only living in the present and wanting more of that enticing woman. “You see, you make me quite vulnerable to you. I wonder if you will make a strength or a weakness out of it.”

Then, Rhaenyra got closer. Now, the fabrics were much thinner than the other dresses both women wore. You could feel the swell of her breasts, her waist glued against yours, her breath close to you again. You startled, feeling her fingertips grazing on your skin, gently and superficially.

Once the Queen took off her finger and muttered her words, you opened her eyes and stared at Rhaenyra. “You think this highly of me, Your Grace?” You asked, muttering back.

“A woman as beautiful as you has no right to exist. Perfection itself. An artwork the Rhoynar Gods made to torture men.” Rhaenyra muttered back, as her fingers traced along your soft jaw and down the side of your neck, feeling your pulse. “And they have. A vision so perfect and lovely has tempted me like no other. A true flower of the desert." Rhaenyra whispered.

“Do I tempt you?” You asked again, whispering as well. Your figures were now pressed against each other. Rhaenyra moved her head up a little, her lips ghosting over yours, not yet kissing, but close enough to feel her breath on your skin as she spoke.

Rhaenyra chuckled and lifted her chin slightly, feeling your body shiver slightly against hers as you let her touch travel down on your nightgown.

The material was soft and thin, doing a terrible job to hide how much it was affecting you. The blonde hummed when she felt your body shuddering under her touch. The Queen let her hand slide behind your waist, enjoying the heat of your skin under her touch.

“You have no idea of the power you hold, my sweet girl. No idea of how weak I am for you.” Her words caused you to silently gasp in front of her, you gave in entirely to Rhaenyra, your dream was coming true and fear grew as arousal spread through your body.

“Why do I make a weak of you?” You asked your possible lover, granting yourself the benefit of the doubt as you played naive for the cold truth: she wanted you as much as you wanted her.

“Because I long for you.” Rhaenyra muttered, still running her thumb gently across your bottom lip. She couldn't help but stare down at the mouth of this sweet thing. Just the thought of her kissing you was enough to send you the edge. The temptation was too much to bear.

“I long for you too, my Queen.” You finally admitted, mumbling at Rhaenyra. Ever since you landed on King’s Landing to be warded by the Queen, you find herself daydreaming of kissing her lips and being her own little Queen.

“Is that so, sweet girl?” Rhaenyra’s voice was low and sultry, her eyebrow arched in a mixture of curiosity and desire. A soft smile played on her lips as her thumb gently traced the contours of your plump, soft lips. Each stroke sent a shiver of anticipation through you.

Every time she looked at your lips, a deep hunger ignited within her, a yearning to taste you and make you hers in every sense. Your gaze lingered, filled with a fierce determination to claim you as her own, to explore every inch of your being and etch her presence into your soul. The moment hung heavy with tension and unfulfilled desire, as if the world itself paused to witness the profound connection between you.

“I wish I could be yours." You reply, your eyes burning desire for Rhaenyra. You pay no mind for any liability; you care not that she is your Queen, the mother of your future husband, a woman. You wanted Rhaenyra.

“You can.” Rhaenyra muttered. She brought her other hand to your face, making sure to be completely focused on every part of you, taking in everything about you. Every part of her was perfect. As her thumbs trace over the soft flesh of your face, her eyes flicker down to your parted lips and she cannot help but gaze down to them, feeling the need to feel them on hers. “Just say the word.”

You touched the hand of Rhaenyra that was resting on your face and bit your lips again while listening to Her Grace. Submissively, you replied. “Let me be yours, Your Grace.” You mumbled, in a disguised begging for Rhaenyra to claim you, to have her way with you.

The eyes of Rhaenyra brightened and she was in total bliss. Hearing your sweet words in that pretty mouth, in that sensual tone, was like music to her ears. Rhaenyra leaned in close while both her hands gently held your face. Her nose gently brushed your own and she looked deep into your eyes.

“You are mine. My sweet girl.” Rhaenyra whispered as her tongue gently traced over your lip. She was close. You moaned lightly and she hummed with your reaction.

“I’m yours, Your Grace,” You whispered back, with a trembling voice and a mixture of reverence and longing. The words hung in the air, laden with the weight of her surrender. Impulsively, you pulled Rhaenyra closer, her fingers grasping the fabric of her gown with a desperate need to feel her warmth.

Yet, despite the burning desire coursing through her veins, you hesitated, her breath hitching as she stopped just short of initiating the kiss. Your faces were mere inches apart, close enough to feel each other’s breath mingling in the charged air. She gazed into Rhaenyra’s eyes, finding herself lost in the depths of those piercing, commanding orbs.

Feeling you pull her closer, Rhaenyra had to act. She closed the remaining distance as she pressed her mouth against yours, kissing you. Her lips moved slowly against your own, enjoying the feeling of you beneath her, knowing you were hers. Her thumbs gently stroke the flesh of your cheeks as she begins to explore your mouth.

Her kiss was ethereal as her beauty. You explored the inside of her mouth with her tongues in an enticing dance, moaning between the kiss as her hand possessively wandered through your hair. Rhaenyra hummed again against your mouth, delighting herself with her reactions. Her arm possessively brought you even closer, as if it was possible and another hand of hers grabbed you by the neck, deepening the kiss.

Gently, the silver Queen pushed you against the cold wall of her chambers, causing an electrifying thermal shock on your body. Her fingertips traced through your jawline and she tightened her grip, feeling her smooth flesh, rubbing against yours and the feeling was beyond incredible. Rhaenyra parted her lips for a brief time, staring at you with eyes full of hunger.

“Do you want me, sweet girl?” Rhaenyra whispered, with a husky voice as her eyes darkened, burning with desire and need for you. She watched you closely, waiting for an answer from you, holding you on a firm grip. You nodded at her question, taciturnly responding at her.

“Say it.” The royal commanded again, filling the air with tension enough to explode the room. Her eyes were locked on yours, breathing heavily towards your lips, you were drowned in pleasure, your voice was about to falter, right in front of your queen.

“I want you, My Queen.” You whispered. Her lips curled into a devilish smirk, with one of her hands letting go of your waist to cup your cheek, brushing your olive skin in very gentle circles. Rhaenyra joined your noses and rubbed each other, teasing you. Your desire went over the edge. It was overwhelmingly good being claimed by Your Grace, you would make sure this night was perfect. Rhaenyra's tongue explored every inch of your mouth. Feeling the warmth inside and tasting you on her tongue.

“Are you mine, sweet girl?" She asked, moving from your mouth down to your jaw, sucking and leaving marks on your soft flesh. Her moves were quick and furtive, as a dragon should be. Her face roamed yours, examining your expressions with cunning and desire.

“I am yours, Your Grace,” you whispered, with a voice having a delicate blend of devotion and anticipation. A soft hum of pleasure escaped your lips as you felt the tender nibbling and gentle suckling on your skin, each touch sending delightful shivers through her body. The sensations were exquisite, drawing you deeper into a state of blissful surrender.

“You are mine.” Rhaenyra replied against your skin. You tilted your head back, moaning lightly as the Queen suckled on the skin of your neck, sending shivers down your spine nipples to instantly turn visible through your nightgown. Her hand travelled south, squeezing your waist and hips and soon after, your thigh. “Mine, mine, mine…” She continued, repeating the word like a prayer, still close to your neck.

Swiftly, she flipped your body and pressed the front of it against the cold wall, pulling your hair to the side and kissing your back as a contrast to her rough and sudden gesture. You purred with pleasure as Rhaenyra had her hands reaching the laces of your nightly garments and you moaned lightly, feeling her kisses on your neck. Your hands, delicately, pulled her head against your neck, beseeching for more action on her side.

“I am all yours,” You replied, faintly moaning with the motion of your dress falling onto the floor. “Yours, yours, yours…”

Rhaenyra mischievously smiled, out of satisfaction hearing your voice so submissive to her. Her soft hands wandered up and down on your bare back, admiring your naked body. Your neck was invaded with kisses, bites and suckles, mixing pain and lust at the same time and your moans were becoming desperate for her.

"I want to worship you, sweet girl. Will you let me?" Rhaenyra asked in a sultry whisper, her hands finding the lace of her own dress and revealing her pale skin. You agreed in silence, feeling her nipples brushing against your back. "Perfect." She muttered, her voice barely a mutter. One of her hands moved up to your breast, gently caressing it with her thumb.

And then, Your Grace flipped your body back to face your front. A brief silence rose amongst you two, her body screamed the yearn to devour you completely. Rhaenyra pinched your left nipple and you moaned in a low tone. "Gorgeous." Rhaenyra murmured as her mouth took in your pert nipple, her tongue flicking over it softly and your hands almost immediately reached her hair again, not allowing Rhaenyra to let go of your chest. Her tongue circled one nipple and alternated with suckling, kisses and bites on your nipple.

No one has ever seen you naked before. Yet, being all exposed for Rhaenyra for the first time was no hardship. You felt close to explode once her lips reached your breast and a soft cry came from your mouth. Rhaenyra hummed against your flesh, continuing to give your breast the attention it desired.

One of her hands lowered over your cunt as her lips suckled and licked your chest. Her other hand moved down across your torso before gently placing it between your legs and gently stroking a digit across your core, making you melt into her arms, exploding with her skilful manoeuvring.

Rhaenyra gently removed her mouth from your breast and looked up into your eyes. Her thumb continued to circle your core, picking up the pace as she watched you. "Does it feel good, sweet girl? Do you enjoy this?" The Queen muttered with a teasing smirk as she watched your hips bounce for her. You looked right into Rhaenyra’s eyes, moaning silently and crying out in pleasure against that wall, only nodding in response to her question.

Rhaenyra leaned in and kissed you once more as her thumb pressed down gently on your sensitive clit, delighting herself with your moans. "Say it." Rhaenyra whispered, repeating her command and wanting to hear you say out loud how much you like this.

“I-It feels so good… Y-your Grace…” You stammered, with your voice trembling with pleasure. You leaned in and pressed her lips to Rhaenyra’s, kissing deeply and fervently, as the Queen’s hands continued to explore her body with master, tender touches. Each caress heightened your senses, mumbling soft moans from her lips and making her pulse race with a mixture of excitement and desire.

The Queen vibrated in response and pressed down more on your sensitive apex, slowly increasing the pressure, watching closely for your reaction.

As she did this, her other hand moved up to wrap around your neck, gently squeezing you. You moaned, gazing directly into her eyes. "That's it, sweet girl. Let it all out." Rhaenyra whispered, her voice now husky and needy.

Not all times you touched yourself you could be as good as Rhaenyra was touching you. She knew how and where exactly to do it on you and it built an imminent desperation for release within your body. Your hands reached her shoulders, squeezing it as she grew closer to come on her fingers.

As your whines and moans grew, Rhaenyra knew you were close. Her thumb kept circling and pressing on your sweet spot, listening to the soft noises coming from your mouth. The sight of her in front of you was perfection. Rhaenyra squeezed your neck gently and whispered to you. "Come for me, my sweet. I want to see you fall to pieces in my hands... just for me."

With her soft command, you felt your legs faltering and a single tear of joy leaving your right eye, with a moan so similar to a whine leaving your mouth while your climax hit you, exploding just as the fourteen fires of the Valyria of Old. You buried your head on the crook of Your Grace’s neck, irregularly breathing and trembling your body.

Rhaenyra slowed her movements, taking her time to pull you through your orgasm. With each gentle rock of her thumb across your sensitive jewel, she kissed and licked up your neck. The sound of your moans and whines filled her ears and sent shivers down her spine. Feeling your body tremble against her sent a tingle between her thighs. "That's it, sweet girl. You've been so good, so perfect for me." The Queen muttered in praise as her arm wrapped around your waist.

You smiled, still in ecstasy from the aftershocks of that alluring moment you had shared with the Queen and kissed her lips gently while your body recovered. After the brief kiss, they stared at each other in silence and you proceeded to suckle on the finger that touched you, wiping all of your own wetness with her lips from Rhaenyra’s hand, who let go a groan as she watched you taste her on your fingers.

She could feel a heat beginning to burn deep within her core. You needed her. She brought her hands to your face and cupped your cheeks, kissing you deeply as she backed you towards the bed. The Dragon Queen pushed you down onto the soft silk sheets and hovered over top of you.

"I need you." She whispered against your mouth, her voice hoarse and desperate.

You felt the impact of falling onto the bed and kept kissing Rhaenyra and feeling the Queen alternating between her lips and neck. You spread her legs to accommodate Rhaenyra on top of you while Your Grace’s lips tasted your skin roughly and desperately.

“Then take me, Your Grace.” You whispered back, muttering ‘please’ onto her ear, which drove Rhaenyra to complete madness over you.

Rhaenyra lowered her body down, grinding her thigh against your wet core. You moaned a bit louder to the pressure and the sensation. She wanted to tease you, but you could not hold back anymore. "I am going to make you squirm, sweet girl." She muttered as her hand moved down your body, caressing your breast before her knee gently found your cunt. Rhae was gentle at first, pressing down gently as she rocked her knee against you. You, on the other hand, complied immediately to her promise, squirming and allowing your body to spasm under her touch. Instinctively, you grabbed her arse to keep Rhaenyra close.

Rhaenyra moaned as her body trembled, feeling your hands grab her arse and rock her. She leaned in close, biting down on your neck as she pressed her knee against you. "Feels so good, sweet...girl." She muttered as she continued to rub gently, her free hand gripping into your waist, as her own moans began to fill the room.

“Please, my Queen… more…” You pleaded as Rhaenyra kept rocking her knee against your sensitive centre, leaving moans from both mouths. You left one hand to the Queen’s hair, bringing her closer and the other hand kept squeezing Rhaenyra.

Your desperate moans made Rhaenyra go feral, her need and longing to hear more of your sweet sounds was overwhelming. "Say my name." She muttered, darkening her eyes and lowering your voice to a devilish tone, wanting to hear you utter her name on your lips.

You were torn, unsure if you should dare to call Rhaenyra by her name. It still seemed as a terrible lack of respect, yet the pleasure she derived from obeying her was overwhelming. As the sensations intensified, bringing you closer to the edge, you have decided to comply without question.

“My Queen,” you murmured breathlessly, opting to avoid using Rhaenyra’s name. The words felt both formal and intimate, a reflection of your submission and the profound connection you felt in that moment. Rhaenyra had her body trembling with anticipation, each touch and command driving her further into a state of astonishing surrender.

Rhaenyra listened intently as her thigh pressed and slowly paced against your intimacy, getting off your moans and whines. The queen smirked and kissed at your neck, gently sucking on the bare skin.

"No, my dornish sun.” She whispered in your ear, her voice sultry and seductive. “Say it... my name. I need to hear it from your sweet lips.”

“Rhae… Rhaenyra…” You moaned as Rhaenyra alternated between her fingers and knee on your intimacy. Your whines became more urgent as another orgasm began giving its early signs.

Upon hearing her name, Rhaenyra gently but firmly rolled her knee against your cunt, feeling your body tense slightly with your approach at climax. Wanting nothing more than to send you over the edge, Rhaenyra suddenly stopped and made you sigh heavily out of frustration for the denial of her release.

“Please, Rhae…” You pleaded, unable to finish her name, clenching your entrance around nothing and humping your cunt in the air.

"I want you to come on my lips." Rhaenyra groaned into your ear. Rhaenyra eagerly positioned her head between your legs, her mouth kissing along the inside of your sensitive thighs and making you arch your back, sobbing with the utter state of bliss. Rhaenyra moaned at the sight of your intimate spot, swollen, covered in slick and sensitive from the foreplay.

"So pretty for me, sweet girl." She whispered as her fingers gently parted your labia, exposing your jewel to her gaze. You moaned in anticipation by the simple act of having Rhaenyra kissing your inner thighs. Your lips were quick to be bitten.

Rhaenyra smirked at your moans, feeling her own desire building between her own legs. The sight of you squirming made her want you even more. She lowered her head gently, her tongue giving tentative licks to the sensitive skin on your thighs, biting softly into it. "And so responsive..." She murmured.

The more you moaned, the more desperate Rhaenyra was to hear more. She gently parted your lips further, exposing your sensitive intimacy. Slowly and gently, her thumb began to rub your sensitive bud, while her mouth returned to the skin above your cunt, suckling and biting at the flesh “Say my name, sweet girl." She whispered against your skin.

“R-rhaenyra…” You called her in a desperate moan. You pulled the Queen’s head closer to your damp core and her body arched back, feeling all the pleasure Rhaenyra had to offer to you.

Rhaenyra groaned at the sound of her name falling from your lips and leaned in closer as you pulled her head forward. Her tongue suddenly moved forward to brush across your sensitive bud, circling gently. “Does that feel good, sweet girl? Does the Queen make you feel good?” You moaned as the royal returned back to gentle licks and circling motions.

“So good, my Queen…” You replied, humping your intimacy against Rhaenyra’s face.

The queen groaned out at the feeling of you rubbing against her, your soft noises making her heart beat faster in her chest. Your moans were the sweetest sound to her, music to her ears. Her tongue continued to move, the circles slowly becoming more and more erratic with her movements, her tongue adding more pressure to the side of your bundle of nerves.

You had your legs shaking once more and desperation built within you, a single tear leaving your eyes and Rhaenyra sped up the pace as she worked her tongue on you.

The sight of you beneath her only edged her on further. Rhaenyra felt her own desires and needs building within, her own core growing desperate for the same kind of attention. However, she continued with making you feel good. She wanted to make you cry, wanted to make you come undone. Rhaenyra leaned a bit closer, her pace quickening as her tongue flicked back and forth against your sweet spot.

"Are you close, sweet girl?" Her voice vibrated against your cunt, alternating her voice between eating your cunt out.

“Yes, my Queen…” You replied, agonisingly feeling Rhaenyra down on you, having you as if you were her last meal. Your whines were consistent and urgent, the warmth of her mouth made you feel even closer to your peak.

Rhaenyra groaned against your clit, feeling your body grow tense and more desperate. You were so close to falling over the edge, she could tell. "Come for me, sweet girl. I want to hear you call out my name when you reach your peak." Rhaenyra whispered before returning her tongue to your bundle of nerves, the speed in her circles increasing and becoming more frequent.

“Rhaenyra-…” You were quick to comply and let go, feeling your body convulsing under the overwhelming presence of your Queen licking your cunt and once more, you climaxed and now on her tongue. Rhaenyra groaned as your body convulsed under her mouth, her tongue continuing its ministrations through your peak.

The queen, however, hovered over you once more and kissed your lips hungrily, her face all covered in your wetness. “I am not done with you.” Rhaenyra groaned at the feeling of your bodies pressed together, her fingers digging into your skin slightly as she kissed your lips, her teeth gently biting over your pulse point.

“Mine.” She murmured against your skin, her breath hot yet soft as she whispered into the crook of your neck. The possessive edge in her voice and the way her teeth gently gripped onto your skin sent tingles down her spine, her body shivering against yours.

“I’m yours, Rhaenyra.” You muttered back, feeling Rhaenyra’s hand cup one of her breasts and taking a moan out of your lips.

Rhaenyra roughly squeezed your breasts at the sound of your moan, your breath shuddering softly against your skin as she moved her hand over your body, her fingers trailing over your hips, feeling again the mix between soreness and lust.

“Only mine.” She whispered quietly into your ear, her breath hot and shaky as she placed her legs between yours and pressed against you. Rhaenyra groaned at the sound of your moan, her body shivering as it pressed against you and her leg grinded against your centre.

“You feel that, darling?” She whispered her husky and shaky voice in your ear as her fingers trailed down to your hip, her leg gently and slowly rubbing against you. Rhaenyra’s hips gently grinded against yours, her breath shaky as she continued to rub her leg over you, her fingers digging into your hip slightly as she slowly began to rub at a steady pace.

She let out a low groan, her own need for you evident. “You feel so perfect, my darling.”

“Please yourself with me, Your Grace…” You said between moans as Rhaenyra rubbed her leg against your intimacy. Your mind rummined about her cunt against yours and it drove you straight into madness. Your body could barely understand the variation of emotions going through at this moment since you were close to come for the third time by that moment. Even still, you knew you could handle her, you wanted anything she had to offer you.

Rhaenyra gasped softly, her moans getting louder as her leg continued to rub against you, her hips shaking against as she listened to your moans. “I want you.” She groaned as her leg moved against you at a growing pace. “Gods, I need you.”

You wanted more, you wanted her to feel as much as you were feeling and perhaps it could be a risky move, but you pulled her body closer and positioned Rhaenyra’s aching core against your own cunt, mimicking a scissoring motion. “Please yourself with me, Your Grace.” She repeated herself, both moaning to the feeling of their clits against each other.

Rhaenyra gasped at the feeling of your bodies pressed in this way, her breath catching in her throat. ”Gods.” The queen gagged, her eyes rolling back slightly as a low and heady moan escaped her. Her hands grasped for your hips and gripped them as she listened to your moans. “S-sweet g-girl…” She called out your name, rocking her cunt against yours.

You bounced your hips and created more friction against Rhaenyra’s intimacy, fingers digging into the flesh of her thighs, moaning in a perfect symphony.

Her whole body trembled as her hips rocked against yours, moans coming out of her mouth uncontrollably as she ground and rolled her hips into yours. Her breathing was shaky and uneven, her grasp on your hips tightening as she desperately tried to maintain her composure. Your moans and sighs of pleasure seemed to fuel her own, and she found herself moving faster against you, letting out a low, keening sound as she felt her climax building.

“I’m close…” You said, feeling that Rhaenyra was almost close as well. Both Queen and Princess moaned loudly as they rubbed their clits against each other and hips moved fast to increase their pleasure. You cried out, desperate for release.

Rhaenyra had her body shook, her breath coming out in sharp gasps and moans as she felt herself nearing her peak. She gasped and moaned loudly, her body arching into yours as they ground against each other, desperately chasing her release.

“Gods, I’m going to—“ The dragon queen gasped out, her whole body shuddering and shaking. Her fingers dug into your hips and held you tightly as her body twitched against yours.

Your body shaked violently through your climax as it hits the duo fastly. You moaned loudly on a desperate whine, trembling and rocking for the last time against Rhaenyra as the Queen peaked as well. Rhaenyra’s whole body arched as they both came together, moaning and shaking as waves of pleasure washed over her. She held onto you tightly, her breathing coming out in hot and shaky puffs as she rode her climax, riding it until her body fell, limp and trembling against you, completely spent.

As you finished, Rhaenyra gently kissed your cheek before pulling back and crawling closer to your face and body. Her own breathing was laboured and her body flush. "You're so beautiful when you fall apart, sweet girl." She whispered, leaning in to kiss your lips gently. You hugged Rhaenyra while you tried to recover from the intense orgasm. After it, you brushed her sweaty hair while Rhaenyra was still on top of you.

Rhaenyra laid against you, her body feeling heavy and limp as she slowly began to come down from her high, her breathing and heart rate slowly returning to normal. Her hair clung to her face from the beads of sweat, her lips pressed to the crook of your neck as she tried to catch her breath. ”Gods.” She whispered breathlessly.

You breathed heavily and tried to regulate along Rhaenyra and smiled, wiping the sweat from the Queen’s face. “That was intense, Your Grace…” You whispered back, breathless as well.

Rhaenyra let out a faint chuckle, lifting her face from your neck and looking down at you, a small smile on her lips as she gazed at you. “Very intense.” Rhaenyra agreed. Her fingers lifted and traced over your face, her eyes full of adoration and affection as she looked at you.

“I’ve never lost control like that.” She said quietly, her voice low and full of wonder. You smiled coyly at Rhaenyra and kissed her chin gently, still gazing at her.

Rhaenyra groaned softly as she felt your tender kiss. Her own hand clutched gently onto your shoulder, her nails slightly digging into your skin. "You'll ruin me, sweet girl." Rhaenyra whispered, caressing your hair as she stared at you in bed.

Now was your time to smirk at her face. You grabbed her chin and kissed it, enticing her imagination and internally trying to see if that really wasn’t a dream. You had her. Your wish was conceded. And it was good as the fantasy you indulge yourself in. “Good.” You then said, whispering in her ear and enduring your mischievous face. Rhaenyra giggled and pulled you closer, giving a peck to your lips. “You are mine now.”

And finally, you could admit with happiness. “I am yours.”

[solkara]

❛ 𝐕𝐎𝐘𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐀 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄 , rhaenyra targaryen ❜

⌗ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 , you since you were young you would be a sailor just like your father you loved the water but the only thing that you loved more than the sea was your family

⌗ 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 , rhaenyra targaryen x fem! velaryon! sailor! reader

⌗ 𝐬𝐨𝐥'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 , so this is gonna be a two part thing for sure cuz I just had so many idea's to write down lol also reader is 3-4 year's older than laenor and laena in this fic also in the next part there might be a bit of rhaenyra's pov heheh

house of the dragon masterlist , next part

⌗ you were the eldest daughter of the sea snake. you had every reason to be as prideful as you were. you were the blood of old valyria and the daughter of the richest house in the seven realms. what wasn't there to be confident of?

⌗ growing up you were given the best of everything. the finest clothes jewellery and food. and while you had always been more on the masculine side. preferring sword fighting and play fighting with your father over more lady like actives. they never punished you for it though. if anything they encouraged it. well your father mostly did.

⌗ and your mother was supportive as long as you kept good manners when attending events and court. which was easy for you as long as you stayed far away from any form of lannister. as they had a natural talent for being able to bore you senseless. but something that never failed to excite you no matter how many times you were told it. were your father's stories of his adventures across the seas.

⌗ you had heard all of the stories more times than you could count. but you didn't care. as each time you heard them you seemed to become more and more fascinated. you begged your father to take you on one. but to your dismay you were always greeted with a firm no. before being told "wait until your older and you will be able to go on a voyage by yourself".

⌗ and so began the patient waiting game. as the years ticked by you were constantly bettering yourself for the day you could finally venture off alone and you became an older sister to laena and laenor. who quickly became your whole world. you adored being an older sister.

⌗ though you wouldn't admit it out loud you were closer with leanor. as laena was always off with the friends she had made in court. while the two of you preferred to spend your days sparring, going for dragon rides together on seasmoke and riptide, and talking about the things you had in common. one of them being. that you preferred goose. and he preferred duck.

⌗ the two of you guarded this secret with your lives and often covered for each other. as the other ventured off to meet with a lover. and when your parents found out about what the two of you had been doing. you defended each other when they said that. "this was just a faze". the two of you would die to protect each other so that made you going away all the more difficult.

⌗ it was your eighteenth name day. and your father had gifted you what you had always dreamed of. your very own ship which you had proudly named tides. in honor of your dragon. with a crew of loyal men to accompany you on your first-ever voyage. the twins did not leave your side all day begging you not to go. it broke your heart. the fact you couldn't take them with you. but you promised him that you would return with gifts for both of them. which calmed the two slightly though they were still upset.

⌗ as you hugged your mother, and kissed your siblings goodbye, you looked to your father who stood their watch. eyes shining with pride as well as unshead tears. pulling him into a hug you felt him burry his face into your hair before inhale your sent. as if he was trying to mentally memories you. as the two of you broke away you couldn't but smile at him.

⌗ and smiled even wider at him when he gifted you two new swords engavred with your name and house velaryon's sigil. and compass which had been attached to a gold chain to make a necklace which was also engraved. thanking your father for the gifts and saying your final goodbyes before departing. on your ship as riptide followed from above as wherever you went he went.

⌗ the moon's you spent at sea where truly some of the best days of your life. you and your crew had become somewhat of a family. spending your days and nights drinking singing songs telling stories and gathering treasure. while exploring the vast seas from essos all the way to yiti.

⌗ during which you indulging in your fair share of women of all shapes sized creeds and colours from common to high borns you had a taste of it all. though you never slept with them more than once. as you were not someone who was easily tied down. seeing yourself like the water free and forever changing.

⌗ you wrote your family often exhanging letters with your father and laenor the most. sharing tales of your adventures and other things that you had done while away. and you did return home to driftmark on rare occasions. once for laenor's wedding. which you didn't really care for as he was clearly miserable and it ended in disaster.

⌗ and the other time was to visit. with both times your parents suggesting you remain home for a while. but you politely declined as now that you had a taste for adventure you were unwilling to part with it. but that would quickly change after a turn of tragic events.

anon , hi !! so i saw that you're currently taking requests, so i have something in my mind, hehe. so, this would be a Rhaenyra x Velaryon fem!reader, and the reader is Laenor's older sister, who is a sailor who just came back from her long voyage on sea after finding out that his brother was murdered. the reader knows that Laenor prefers men more than women as Laenor is also aware that the reader prefers women. the moment the reader has set sail, she immediately heard some rumors how Rhaenyra ordered someone to kill her brother, and this sparked some hatred towards Rhaenyra. but, on the other hand, Rhaenyra is quite taken by the aura and confidence that the reader is giving. Rhaenyra made it her mission to try and properly explain the situation to the reader without the prying eyes and ears. Rhaenyra's only problem is that the reader doesn't trust her enough to be in a secluded room with her alone, whereas the reader is always glaring and avoiding to be near at Rhaenyra anytime the reader spots her in her point of view. you can choose the ending hehe >_<

[justcallmecj]

Seeing Your Dragon Form: Vice's+Ruggie and Floyd

Trey

Trey was a lot more chill about this than you were expecting him to be.

He agreed to come with you with no problem, and when you came out of the mist and he saw you, he looked like this was all normal.

He quickly approached you and stretched his arms towards you. You brought yourself closer to the ground to make it easier for him to reach your head.

Gently, Trey pet your head. Running his hands across you snout and up to your horns.

He always made sure to keep eye contact with you if you were looking at him. Your e/c eyes and his golden colored eyes locked together.

He constantly made small talk with you, asking simple yes or no questions or simply telling you about something random.

Unbeknownst to you, on the inside, Trey was freaking out!

You reminded him a puppy! (Quite a deal larger than an actual puppy, but his view is still valid.)

He's used to keeping some form of a rational, adult face all the time. You, Riddle and Chenya are really the only ones who have seen the childish side that he has.

Because of this, he didn't want to just full on fawn and freak out on you. He also didn't want to risk overwhelming you.

He opted to waiting for you to be human again, where you could speak, to ask any questions he had.

Later that day, when you had turned back into your fae form, he asked. Surprisingly, he had a lot of questions.

"I'm proud of you, Y/N. I'll let you do what you want for right now, but when we get back to the dorm, prepare for questions, alright?"

Ruggie

He was very skeptical when you asked if he wanted to see your dragon form.

He immediately thought that you wanted something out of this (like to eat him).

With plenty of skepticism, he followed you out to your spot in the woods and waited patiently for you to come out of the mist.

Seeing you had him stunned for a solid 2 minutes.

Now, you and Ruggie have been friends for a long time now, and he knows that it's you, but he had a rough childhood.

You were about 4x his size, serrated claws, razor sharp teeth and covered in spikes. Everything about you screamed DANGEROUS.

It was like staring down everything that he taught himself to stay away from.

Then you did something he wasn't expecting.

You sat quietly and gently tilted your head to the side. Your e/c eyes gazed into his with a look he feels is familiar to him.

Then he remembered. Once, when one of his younger brothers had gotten into a fight, he came home looking roughed up and dangerous. But the moment Ruggie came to patch him up and they met eyes, his brother gave him a look that extremely contrasted that roughed up state he was in. His brother was soft and on the verge of crying.

Looking at you, it was the same thing. Ruggie got the same feeling he did back then. You looked scary and dangerous, but he knew that you were still the same softy that he sees everyday.

Finally, he got over his initial feelings and strutted towards you. He ended up right under your head, forcing you to look down at a weird angle to see him. You adjusted yourself and brought your head to his level.

Just as Ruggie had done with his brother, he patted you on the head. It instilled a feeling of contentment in you and your eyes slowly fluttered shut. Soon, a gently hum ran through your throat and hit Ruggie with the vibrations since he was still patting you.

"Wow, that worked a lot better than I thought it would. Y'know, all this nice treatment from me will cost ya, Y/N~"

Jade

You had his curiosity extremely peaked.

He must admit, upon meeting you and learning you were a fae, he thought about what you may look like as a dragon whenever he was with you.

He never said anything, out of courtesy and politeness. But now that you were offering him the chance, he took it with no hesitation and never held his tongue about anything.

You had asked him during on of the very few times Floyd wasn't with him, meaning at was just you two. (You still can't tell if that made things better or worse)

Jade was unaffected by the mist, and the extra amount of cold you radiated.

The first thing he did? Go to your tail. Him being an eel, he has one himself. For some reason, he wanted to find out how different yours was from his. He's never been able to get good looks at the tails of the beastmen at school, so you were his best example.

He poked and prodded at the spike that ran down it. Not that you minded, there was no feeling there and if they were to break, they'd grow back quickly. There was only feeling in your spikes when in fae form.

Soon, he had gathered all the information he needed for the time being. He then sat by your snout, which had been on the ground as you had laid down.

He held a pleasant conversation with you. You couldn't respond, but he didn't care. He spoke of things that really didn't need you input but still kept you entertained, which was his goal.

At times, he unconsciously start petting and stroking you. Running a hand across your hand(?) and claw, soft head pats, gentle rubs behind your ears, things like that. You decided to take a nap due the peaceful sounds of the woods and Jade's calming voice.

"You never cease to stretch my thoughts of you. When I think I have you figured out, you surprise me." He can only hope you can't hear him right now.

Floyd

Unlike with the others, it wasn't you who suggested him seeing your dragon form, it was Floyd.

He had been insistently pestering you about it for weeks now. Both Azul and Jade have tried to get him off your back but he just pops back up and asks again.

Eventually, you gave in.

Upon the disappearance of the mist, he was already on top of you.

Without notice, he poked at your sides, claws and wings. You barely even had enough time to figure out what he was doing before he moved on to investigate somewhere else. He stayed away from your tail though.

You even allowed him to climb onto your back for a while. He didn't stay long though, he found the scales to be too uncomfortable to stay there much longer.

Eventually, he opted to spend some time near your head, so he could spend the rest of the time with you.

For a while, he was surprisingly chill with you, but then mood swings decided to pay a visit.

He got frustrated that you couldn't talk back, or more so at the fact he couldn't understand you. He just really wanted to know what you were saying to him.

You thought of just not saying anything to not further escalate things, but then realized he be even more upset if he felt you were ignoring him.

You've been friends with Floyd for a long time now, and you've gotten pretty good at handling his mood swings. The moment you felt he was getting too frustrated, you took action.

You brought your tail towards him and pushed him over. He fixed himself and caught sight of your face. You may be a dragon right now, but he could tell that you were smiling at him and laughing in your head. He saw what game you were trying to play easily.

You two playfully wrestled with each other for a long time. He would climb around and you'd gently knock him over. Things like that.

"Umitsubame-kun! I knew it be a good idea to do this. We could've been having this much fun sooner if you had just listened to me when I first asked~"

Jamil

Jamil was a lot calmer than his Scarabian counterpart.

He will admit though, he's been curious about what you may look like. Just like Kalim, he doesn't have much experience with dragons, real or fake.

The mist was freezing to him, though, considering where he grew up, that's no surprise.

He didn't quite know how to respond.

You looked awesome! But he didn't know what to do from there. You two just kinda stared at each other for a while, neither moving.

Then you took the lead.

You walked up to him (it only took you like three steps) and raised your hand(?) into the air.

He flinched, thinking you were gonna crush him, but then froze when he felt himself rise into the air.

When he opened his eyes he saw that you had picked him up and held him in your palm.

Luckily he's spent enough time on the flying carpet to not be afraid of heights.

You brought him close to your snout and in a moment of no better ideas, he gently placed a hand on the tip of your nose.

Your scales were freezing cold, and while he expected the air you exhaled to be warm, it was just as cold as your scales, if not colder.

Now he was a lot more comfortable with the situation, meaning he started doing more.

He asked questions, then realized that you couldn't speak. He then decided to change his method and asked yes or no questions. They started as one about your dragon form, then the conversation drifted off into other subjects. School. Food. Dorm life. Other students at school.

He asked if changing forms was tiring to you, in which you gave him a side ways nod. 'Sorta' is what you were telling him.

"How about when we're done here, we go back to Scarabia and I'll make you something to eat and get your energy back up? Take is as a 'thank you' for this experience."

Rook

Actually, this isn't his first time seeing your dragon form.

Since the first day he saw you, you've captured his attention, and triggered his hunting habits.

One day when you were taking a break from NRC life, you snuck away and spent some time as a dragon. Unbeknownst to you, he had been watching you the whole time.

But then you actually asked him if he wanted to see. He told you 'yes' with a strange and knowing excitement.

He was on top of you even before the mist cleared since his sight was enough for him.

This is the first time he's been this close to a creature so much bigger than him.

Throughout the entire experience he was showering you in compliment after compliment. Words of encouragement filled with passion, charisma and said quite fervently.

You wholeheartedly believed that even if he wanted to, Rook would not have been able to take his hands off you. His hands touched where ever they could, your spikes, wings, horns, snout, claws, tail, you name it.

You understood though. You've always known how curious Rook is. How, while it seemed strange and creepy to others, his habits and mannerisms never really bothered you.

Out of no where, he confessed to following you all that time ago.

He could see as emotions flicked across your draconic face for a few seconds. Confusion. Realization. Upset. Thoughtfulness. Then it stilled into one. Amusement.

Your chest rose and fell fast. You were laughing. Rook couldn't help but laugh himself, lowkey glad you weren't upset with him.

"Oh dear Dragon de Glace, your beauty is truly magnifique! I hope you and I will continue to have many moments like these in the future!"

Lilia

He happily took you on you offer.

He's known the Draconia family for years, so you having a dragon form is nothing new to him. Heck, he was there the first time Malleus used his.

Out of everyone, who saw you as intimidating or astounding, he saw you as cute.

Lilia will admit with no remorse, he has a soft spot for dragons. With his experience in helping to raise Malleus, he can't help it.

When you opened your eyes after transforming, you were met with Lilia's large, red, slit-pupil eyes in you face, upside down.

He flipped out and rested his arms in your snout, using them to support his chin.

He then struck up a conversation. He could understand every word you said to him. (Learned with Malleus.)

It was an extremely lovely conversation. But, you did get embarrassed when he would speak to you as if you were a child.

You'll have to excuse him. It's an old and sometimes an unconscious habit he picked up due to Malleus and mostly Silver.

For some reason, he really likes booping your nose. Mid conversation he'll just boop you for no apparent reason. He then proceeds to giggle to himself at your reactions.

Eventually, you got a bit tired. Your body relaxed while listening to Lilia and your eyes fluttered close.

Seeing that you had drifted off to sleep, Lilia got closer and gently moved your head into his lap. It was ridiculous with how much bigger your head was compared to him, but cute non the less.

He gently stoked your snout, making sure you stayed asleep. As you snored away, he remembered when he would do this with Malleus and even Silver when they were babies. It made him smile, a smile you unfortunately couldn't see.

"Just stay asleep Little One. I'll be here when you wake up, and we can continue to have some fun."

[wyvernest]

cregan stark x f!targaryen!reader

previous(first) part - next part | all chapters list

>Queen Rhaenyra has sent you away from the brewing war to safety since your brother, Jacaerys, has secured the Pact of Ice and Fire. You have to honor it by marrying Lord Cregan Stark.

cw: slow burn, fluff, eventual smut, angst, follows book events with slight deviations, im planning to let jacaerys live! every chapter is around 2k wc

chapter cw: tension, fluff, a little angst, they are starting to fall for eachother

“The ceremony will be held tomorrow.” Cregan’s deep and steely voice rings with an imposing echo onto the stone walls of the great hall of Winterfell. “My lady is worn from the journey.”

Although the order seemingly held some benevolence to your sore legs and southern blood barely adjusting to the newfound cold, his voice feels so detached that you find yourself wondering whether he truly did care for your spirits, or if he only wished it as a polite formality.

“I will take my leave before sundown, sister.” Jacaerys places a comforting hand on your shoulder. “I must be back at Dragonstone before the new moon.”

“Ill news?” you ask, already troubled and feeling incapacitated from protecting and helping your family.

“Ser Criston Cole marches on Duskendale lands. I must be present at the council to take action.”

“What about me?” You worry, and only after speaking do you realize how stupid the question was.

Jacaerys takes a moment to reply, evidently not wanting to make you feel more secluded than you were.

“I will not make any decision that you wouldn't have in my stead.” He decides, “I will send you ravens to inform you, and represent you.” a pause, “unofficially.”

There is nothing more to be said. Any words he could sweeten end with the same inevitable finale. No raven could fly fast enough to deliver your ideas soon enough for the Greens not to gain an advantage over the reluctance of your team.

You are a pawn. Your dragon is a pawn. And you will only read about the war as if it were history before you could contribute.

“I understand.” You manage to let out without showing how disturbed you are and possibly making the northern lords think that you were terrified to marry their leader.

With a hug too frail to even begin to express how much you will miss him, your brother mounts his dragon after the welcoming festivities in the great hall and takes off with a blow of wings that normally would have had you taking a few steps back from Vermax.

But now it didn't matter anymore. You watch as your only friend dissolves into the skies thick with white clouds, becoming nothing but a raven in the distance.

Suvion cries out, a sharp, strained screech that only pain as great as yours could have caused, and the clouds answer, though you cannot see him anymore.

You are taken aback at the feeling of heavy pelts placed upon your shoulders, and only then you realize how cold you are. Your frigid fingers reach around your own neck to grasp at it and keep it from falling.

“The cold is treacherous. One moment you may think you're warm, and the following, your heart stops.” Cregan comes to stand next to you, looking away to where Vermax had disappeared.

“Thank you, my lord.” You speak coyly, quietly, so he wouldn't catch the crack in your voice and think you weak and soft. Perhaps in a different situation, you would have blushed at his kindness, but the ice wall you felt between you and him was now more palpable than ever. Alone, with a stranger.

“You should come inside.” He insists, but it is not advice, it's a courteous command.

Without a word, you turn and listen. You are escorted to your chamber in the castle, and as you pass through the halls, you look around like a lowborn in a dragonpit. At least that's what it must look like, but in your heart it was storming; how different the place was from what you have known your whole life, the people, the sounds in the yard, the very air of the keep.

He stops in front of your door, beckoning you inside.

“Send for me should you need anything your handmaiden cannot provide.”

His voice is softer, as if trying to indulge you and your loss. As if he understands.

“Yes, my lord.”

“Cregan.”

You do not know for certain if there truly is a gleam of affection in his eyes as he says it, but you do know that you held yourself back from leaning forward in his arms.

Oh, how you wanted to just let it out, and how you wanted him to hold you through it. To offer some comfort that, at least, he cared for you. That he wasn't a cold hearted man with nothing warmer than diplomatic skills. Whom you would have to learn how to love the hard way. Only you know how your heart briefly yearned for him to offer you strength.

But alas, it was not proper. Too soon.

“Cregan.” You accept, and he barely hears it. Your heart sinks when he nods politely and slowly shuts the door, and it sinks further at the sound of his boots on the cold stone outside your chamber, walking away.

A terribly tragic thought slips into your tired mind; that he is betrothed to you, yet his heart belongs to another. Northerners love northerners, and the Stark men have mostly married into vassal houses of the north in the past.

No matter how loyal he is to be from now, his thoughts will always be about her, the people will always know about her.

Suvion's head appears at your window, blocking out the moonlight.

“Oh, you,” You whine, opening the windows and laying your upper body on his snout.

You hear someone gasp and scream in the courtyard, no doubt because of the dragon clawing at the walls of the castle.

“We should find some place good for you. Somewhere safe and warm.” He growls sorrowfully, as if aware.

But it doesn't last long. As quickly as he came at the window, Suvion rips away from your touch and carefully leaps out of the castle yard and up into the night sky. His otherwise white scales now partly reflect the dark of night in their shine, making it impossible for you to even tell how high up he was.

Alone again. You knew he wouldn't go far, that he only needed to hunt and come back, but you wished for leverage that was now gone.

Restless and troubled, you decide to take a stroll around the keep that is to be yours in less than a day.

You follow your curiosity back to the great hall, from where you hear whispered voices and see glimmers of lit torches.

“...of the beast. Food is scarce.”

“It will set eyes upon us.”

“Lord Glover, this is necessary. I do not wish-”

The lords at the table turn abruptly at the sight of the shadow you cast into the obscured hall.

“My lady. Is everything alright?” You hear Cregan's voice, his face away from light.

You feel embarrassed and stupid, interrupting a clearly important talk of resources that did not yet concern you and making the impression of a spoiled, uneducated woman.

“No- I didn't mean to intrude.”

“You could never be intruding on talks of our domain.” He attempts to soothe your nerves, although the implication of responsibilities is indomitable in his tone.

You approach them, carefully eyeing the other lords, feeling quite literally akin to a lizard slithering into a den of wolves. You cannot read anything on their stern faces, and it doesn't fail to make you uneasy and put your guard up.

“The dragon, my lady,” one of them starts, a man well past his youth, “he is a welcomed weapon in the North, although -”

“Although it is true that war has brought us both here, my lord, a dragon is not a weapon.” You warn with a poised expression, as respectfully as you could, yet fire dripped from your words.

The other men frowned in surprise and disapproval, but said nothing. You glance at Cregan, by your side, hoping to be faced with kindness, but instead your heart skips a beat at the sight of a cutthroat look he was throwing at the men, protective of your contribution.

“-apologies. The dragon is a welcomed ally. But livestock is barely enough to get us through what's to come. What are we to offer? Sheep?”

“We have endured harsher winters with lesser than we have today.” Your betrothed reassures, despite the evident growing concern.

“Suvion is big enough to hunt for himself, I dare say. The cold doesn't seem to burden him. There is absolutely no need to thin out the herd for him, my lords.”

You struggle to conceal a sharp gasp when his hand runs up your lower back. A way to show approval of your input, no doubt, yet you find that every crumble of affection he grants you is more than enough to spark fire in your body. Is that what you have come to?

You were worried enough that the rough stoicism of the north man wouldn't provide half the love you dreamed of, yet now you falter on that thought. If such a touch is already setting you alight, what would more do?

“A good omen. Prince Velaryon’s first visit wasn't as uneventful.”

“It is settled then. We will discuss other matters after the wedding.” He commanded, and your stomach flipped at the mention of your union.

With the lords out of the room, Cregan turns to you.

“I thought you would be resting. It's near the hour of the ghosts.” He speaks gently with a warm vibration in his voice, as if you have been wedded for years and he knows all about your practices and nature.

“I couldn't. The more I lay there waiting, the more it felt like I would never find sleep again.”

A faint smile lights up your tense visage, an instinctual way of wanting to see him soften as well.

He looks intently, clearly understanding of your friendliness, but it does nothing to soothe his brow further.

“Come. I wish to speak with you, since neither of us cannot find slumber.”

Neither of us? What is that supposed to mean?

You once again hook your arm around his, his body heat immediately warming you up and putting you at ease. He leads you into his chambers, a strong fire already lit in the hearth.

“Is this proper?”

“Whoever shall dare speak ill of my wife will never speak again.”

A shiver runs up your spine. Whether it's a pleasant or a distressed one, you cannot tell anymore.

“I know how you must feel, although it may not seem like it.” He begins, beckoning you to sit on the edge of the bed. “It's the duty that comes with the name.”

“Yes.” You agree, wanting to hear more of what he wishes to tell you. “Although my biggest concern lies with my position. I feel…” You cease before you could say something like “trapped” or “exiled”. He has been nothing but good to you since you arrived and you do not want to seem ungrateful or hostile. You do like him.

But before you could find the right words, he kneels in front of you on the floor and takes your hands in his. Your heart stops. Your brain shuts down. Gods.

“-powerless.” He untangles your mind and finishes your thought. “But you aren't. We will offer help, I do not intend to trample the oath I swore to your brother. The oath I am to swear to you.” He adds, his tone is soft and tender yet his words so meaningful and heavy, you hear them as though their echo reverberated in the entire room around you.

His thumb delicately rubs over your knuckles, his expression as stoic as ever, only his actions speak differently. He leans forward and places a kiss on the back of your hand, assuring and loving.

You draw in a sharp breath, as if you haven't felt affection before in your life.

“Cregan.” is all you manage.

“It is true that this union was made with interest. But you are not unwanted, my lady. I believe we will find more than allies in each other.”

TAGS!! im sorry for those that don't work its tumblr's fault i checked all of them multiple times

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[wholoveseggs]

Mistress

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

{Daemon Targaryen X Rhaenyra Targaryen x Reader} It's a stormy night on Dragonstone and you seek solace in your queen's bed, but a certain king consort joins the two of you, making the evening even more interesting...

4.6k words - Warnings: smut, incest, daemyra centric, voyeurism, ffm threesome, tribbing, fingering, oral (male & female receiving) face sitting, riding, Daemon being cheeky, Rhaenyra being a bit nervous& inexperienced in pleasing a woman, lots of kisses, tons of fluff & teensy tiny bit of somnophilia ...

{Daemon Targaryen Tag-List}

@elijahstwink @starshipcookie @absolutemarveltrash @odairtrqsh @darkened-writer @cheneyq @fallout-girl219 @nina6708 @evasmlp @sadmonke @deamonloverrrr

It was well past midnight on Dragonstone, the sound of rain tapping on the stone floor filled the quiet halls of the castle. It was dark and cold but that did not bother the two lovers as they embraced in the sheets, bodies entangled in one another.

Soft moans and heavy breaths filled the room as you straddled your queen, the sheets pooling around your waists as your lips moved against her plump ones, kissing her deeply. Your fingers danced up her arms, her shoulders, and her neck before finding their way into her beautiful silver-gold hair. Her own hands were running down your back and over the curve of your ass before giving it a light squeeze.

A quiet giggle escaped your lips as she squeezed again, and you pulled away from her slightly, pressing your forehead against hers as you both gazed into each other's eyes. You could see the lust and passion as she smiled, moving a hand from your ass and up your side before cupping your cheek and bringing you back to her for another kiss.

Rhaenyra had never felt the touch of another woman before, nor the taste of her lips. Her heart was pounding in her chest, feeling you against her as she deepened the kiss. The feeling of your bare skin against her own was magic. Your warm soft breasts pressing against hers, making her nipples harden against your chest. She could feel the wetness between her thighs, and she knew you could feel it too.

"Your grace," you murmured against her lips, your soft hands caressing the young queen's face, "you are shaking," you told her, feeling her body trembling beneath you.

"I'm just a little cold," Rhaenyra lied, she felt heat flood her cheeks at the way you smiled down at her.

"Then let me warm you," you replied, pulling her closer to you as you moved a hand down her neck and between her breasts, your fingers trailing her soft pale skin. You moved down her stomach, over her navel, and through the neatly trimmed patch of hair on her mound before reaching her soaking wet center.

You watched your queen's face closely, her eyes fluttering shut as you ran a finger along the wetness, making her let out a moan, her lips parting. You smiled at her reaction and brought your finger to her pearl, rubbing the sensitive spot gently, watching as Rhaenyras skin began to flush a beautiful pink, her breathing becoming more ragged.

"Does that feel good, your grace?" you asked her, slowly moving your finger back and forth as you lowered your head and kissed her jaw.

"Yes," she breathed, her hips bucking against your touch as her hands gripped the sheets tightly.

To be intimate with a dragon felt like a dream, feeling the heat radiate off of her body, her skin glistening with sweat. It was an honor to teach her, an honor to touch her, and an honor to watch her as she was pleasured.

You gently pushed her back onto the bed, her silver-gold hair fanned out on the pillow like a halo around her head, the moonlight shining through the window, illuminating her body. You wondered if the Targaryens tasted different than other women, their blood was so close to dragon blood, the magic that was once coursing through their veins, maybe it still did, maybe it still lingered.

Rhaenyra looked up at you with wide eyes as you kissed down the valley between her breasts and over her stomach, your warm lips leaving a trail of kisses and soft bites on her skin. You glanced up at her, making sure she was okay as you kissed her mound. You could smell her sweet scent, like honey and jasmine.

Your eyes stayed locked with hers as you slowly moved down, kissing her inner thigh, your nose tickling her soft flesh. You could hear her breath catch in her throat as you pressed a soft kiss against her swollen pearl, her hips lifting up slightly at the feeling. You smiled and gave it another kiss, flicking your tongue over it before sucking it into your mouth.

You could feel her squirming beneath you, her thighs trying to close around your head. You placed a hand on her stomach, holding her still as you licked, sucked and nipped. Her moans filled the room, her back arching off the bed, her hand flying to the top of your head and pulling on your hair.

Her taste flooded your mouth as she cried out, her body shaking with her climax. You slowly eased your lips off her, moving back and reaching out your hands, pulling her into a sitting position. You kissed her shoulder, her neck, and her jaw, moving your lips up to hers, kissing her gently, letting her taste herself.

"Men, you see, don't know the first thing about a woman's body," you explained, stroking her hair gently as she tried to catch her breath, "they fail to understand just what it takes to please one."

"They can be a bit selfish, can't they?" Rhaenyra whispered, a slow smile spreading across her face as you nodded.

You giggled and wrapped your arms around her waist, pulling her flush against your body, your breasts pressed together.

The candles flickered, light bouncing off your bodies which were now glistening with a soft sheen of sweat. The sound of the heavy rainfall and the cracking of the fire drowned out the laboured breathing as you placed your leg over her hip and brought your core against hers.

Rhaenyra gasped when you made contact, and you began to rock your hips, grinding yourself against her. You held her tightly, her hands gripping your ass, squeezing and guiding you, trying to find the right rhythm.

Soft gasps and moans echoed off the stone walls as the two of you moved together, your lips brushing over hers. Rhaenyra moaned into your mouth, becoming lost in the pleasure, the heat, the wetness, the feeling of you against her.

Daemon had always loved a good storm. The sound of the hammering rain, the crack of the lightning and the rumble of thunder made his blood rush.

He had been away from home for far too long, so much that he had forgotten the tranquility Dragonstone provided. Even on nights such as these, when the weather was unpredictable, he loved the thrill of riding on Caraxes over the hills and valleys, letting the storm rage, letting the wind and rain beat his body, it was exhilarating.

But the thrill he craved the most was that of his wife. He missed his queen, his darling Rhaenyra. He missed the way they clashed together, tearing into each other with claws and teeth and desire. Nothing could tame the fire he had for her.

He landed Caraxes in the courtyard and dismounted, his boots splashing in the puddles as he strides towards the main entrance. He entered the castle and began to make his way through the dimly lit halls, heading towards the royal chambers.

Guards watched as the king consort strolled through the castle, drenched from the rain with his hair wet and braided. He was in his element here, walking the halls of his ancestral home, eyes blazing and the blood in his veins running hot.

He came to the large wooden doors of the royal chambers and opened them, entering the room and closing them behind him. The first thing he noticed was the smell. It was sweet, like honey, and the air was thick with a heady aroma.

His eye was immediately drawn to the vast windows, from which he could see the beautiful night sky and the dark and stormy seas, the rain pelted the windows and the sound echoed throughout the room.

A slither of lightning brightened up the room for a moment. the flash of light allowing Daemon to see two naked figures intertwined in a soft and untroubled sleep.

He stayed still by the door, taking in the sight of the two bodies before him. They lay on their sides facing each other, their legs and arms entwined, their hair splayed out on the pillows and their skin glistening. He could see the soft rise and fall of their chests, and the peaceful look on their faces as they slept.

He knew he deserved this, whatever this affair was. He couldn't blame his wife for seeking out affection when he provided her with none. But he would have never expected it to be her closest handmaiden.

He was intrigued by the pair and found himself approaching the bed. He could see your breasts peeking out from the sheets, the way your skin was flushed, and how your hair was sticking to your face and neck. His wife's skin was the same, her cheeks rosy and her lips parted, soft snores escaping.

This was a gift and he couldn't deny himself a taste.

He pulled off his gloves and cloak, leaving them in a heap on the floor, then he approached his wife. He leaned over her, placing a hand on her hip, feeling her warmth against his palm. He slowly slid his hand up her side and over her shoulder, caressing her cheek. He could hear her soft sigh, and her body began to stir as he gently pushed her hair away from her face.

He leaned down and placed a tender kiss on her cheek, her skin soft and supple beneath his lips. "Rhaenyra," he purred, kissing further down to her neck, sucking on the sensitive skin, "what are you dreaming about?"

She shifted a little, her head lolling to the side as he kissed her shoulder. Her lips parted, and a quiet moan escaped her, and she turned her head towards him.

"Daemon?" she muttered, her voice sleepy.

He hummed, the sound vibrating against her skin, his stubble scratching her, "wake up, love."

Her eyes slowly opened, and the realization that her husband was home washed over her.

"Daemon," she repeated, her eyes widening.

He pulled back and met her gaze, his lips curling into a wicked grin.

"Hello, my love," he said, his voice low, his tone teasing.

Her heart started to race and she looked over at you, her face reddening when she saw your sleeping form.

"She's new," Daemon commented, noticing the way she watched you, "your first, yes?"

Rhaenyra's blush darkened as she nodded.

He smiled and walked over to you, reaching out and tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. His eyes scanned over your body, noticing the way the sheets barely covered your naked form.

"You have good taste," he said, his fingers brushing your cheek, his knuckles lightly grazing your lips.

She couldn't help but watch the way his eye raked over your body, how his touch lingered. It stirred something within her, something she had never felt before. She didn't feel jealous, nor did she feel embarrassed, rather she was curious.

Daemon noticed her watching, and he glanced over at her, smirking at the look on his wife's face.

"Did she teach you much?" he asked her, his fingers running down your arm.

"Some," Rhaenyra answered, her eyes following his fingers, her chest rising and falling as her breathing quickened.

"Show me," Daemon said, looking up at her.

Her eyes met his and her heart skipped a beat. She wanted to, she desperately wanted to. The idea of sharing you with him, showing him what you had taught her, ignited a fire in her, one that burned hotter than the one that burned between the two of them.

She nodded, moving towards you, her eyes locked on his.

He smiled, walking over to the nearby table and pouring himself a glass of wine. He leaned back against the table and took a sip as he watched his wife slowly wake you.

You felt a gentle touch on your cheek, a thumb brushing over your lips. Your eyes slowly fluttered open, and your gaze was met by beautiful purple ones, a loving smile gracing the lips of the young queen.

Her kiss was tender and sweet, her hand caressing your cheek as she deepened the kiss. A quiet moan escaped you, and you returned the kiss, reaching out to cup her face, pulling her closer.

The kiss quickly became heated, both of you desperate to taste and feel each other. Your hands wandered, touching and groping, and you let out a soft moan against her lips.

That's when you heard a low, raspy laugh. Your eyes shot open and you looked over Rhaenyra's shoulder and saw Daemon standing by the table, a wine goblet in his hand, his eyes fixed on you.

He smirked, raising his drink in your direction.

Your cheeks burned, realizing the king consort was watching. You quickly sat up, pulling the sheets over your body as Rhaenyra's gaze flicked between you and him.

"No, please, continue, I was enjoying the show," Daemon chuckled, taking a long swig of his wine.

You felt your cheeks heat up under his gaze and your body tensed as his eyes drifted down your naked body, his tongue darting out to lick his lips. You could tell by the growing bulge in his trousers that he was indeed turned on by what he was seeing.

His smile grew, clearly enjoying how flustered you were, how his presence had caught you off guard.

Daemon turned and walked across the room, locking the door, making a point to look at the two of you as he did so. Rhaenyra looked at you and then back at him, swallowing hard as he slowly began walking towards the bed, his footsteps echoing on the stone floor.

He pulled his tunic over his head and tossed it aside, standing before you and Rhaenyra bare-chested. His body was covered in scars from past battles, the damaged skin shining slightly in the moonlight. His eyes were burning with a fire that made the pit of your stomach flutter.

Panic flooded your mind, clouding your reasoning. You quickly scrambled out of bed, holding the sheet to your body. You bowed, your legs trembling slightly as you lowered yourself in front of him.

"M-my king conso-, f-forgive me. I-I...I'm so sorry." You stuttered, your voice shaking, feeling your heart race.

You didn't dare look up at him. You kept your head down and your eyes focused on his feet.

He chuckled, looking at his wife then back at you, taking in the sight of you kneeling before him, your body quivering and the blanket barely covering your breasts. He could see the panic in your eyes, and the way you trembled, like a small bird that had just been caught by a predator.

Daemon grabbed you by the wrist, his grip strong but gentle, pulling you to your feet and back towards the bed, pushing you down next to his wife. You gasped as your back hit the soft mattress and you looked up at him, fear and confusion in your eyes.

"Relax," he whispered, his voice low, his hand reaching up to brush a stray lock of hair behind your ear, his thumb tracing the outline of your lips.

Your gaze flicked between him and Rhaenyra. They had an intense gaze, and it was clear they had a connection, an energy, a bond. Their eyes locked onto each other, and Daemon smiled, bringing his free hand up to cup her cheek.

"She's a lovely creature, isn't she?" He mused, his eyes still on his wife.

"Yes," Rhaenyra whispered, her cheeks burning and her heart pounding.

"You enjoyed her?"

"Very much."

He hummed, his hand moving up and grasping her chin, pulling her close and kissing her.

You watched in awe as his lips moved against hers, his tongue sliding into her mouth. Rhaenyra's hands rested on his shoulders, clinging tightly to him. You could see her nipples were hard, her breasts pressing against his chest.

"I can taste her on your lips." He said, his voice low, his gaze flicking to you.

Your face turned red, and you couldn't stop staring. They were so beautiful together, their passion seemed to radiate off of them.

Rhaenyra turned to you and smiled, her cheeks flushed and her eyes full of lust.

Daemon smirked, pulling back and moving to lean against the headboard, his eye raking over your body, his cock straining against his trousers.

"Well, don't let me stop you," he said, taking another swig of his wine.

Rhaenyra's eyes sparkled with mischief as she turned back to you. She pressed her lips to yours, kissing you deeply, her hands roaming your body.

Daemon watched with a grin, his hand moving to his crotch, squeezing his erection as she kissed down your jaw, moving to your neck and over the swell of your breasts. Her lips leaving a trail of warm, wet kisses on your skin.

Daemon's eyes were fixed on the two of you as Rhaenyra's kisses traveled further down your body, stopping between your legs. You felt her warm breath on your thighs, and you couldn't help but moan softly, feeling her mouth move closer to your aching core.

"Look at me," Daemon commanded.

You turned your head, meeting his gaze, his eyes burning into you as Rhaenyra pressed a soft kiss to the inside of your thigh. Her lips traveled up and over your mound, her inexperience was evident, but the young queen was determined to prove herself.

You let out a soft whimper, your hips lifting off the bed, feeling her warm tongue slowly drag up the length of your pussy. She moved her tongue between your lips, tasting the wetness that had pooled there.

Daemon watched with amusement, his eyes darkening as Rhaenyra began to lap and suck. Her mouth was warm and wet, her tongue moving in slow circles. She was doing well, making you squirm with need.

You couldn't stop the moans from escaping your lips, your hands gripping the sheets. Daemon untied his breeches, freeing his erect cock.

It was a beautiful sight, seeing him slowly stroke himself, his gaze never leaving the two of you. To be in the presence of two dragons was an honour, but to be fucked by the two of them was something else entirely.

Daemon moved closer to the two of you, his hand reaching out, caressing the curve of your cheek. He cupped your chin and tilted your head, turning your attention away from his wife and onto him.

He leaned down and kissed you deeply, his tongue darting into your mouth. His fingers brushed over your nipples, making them harden, his teeth tugging at your lower lip.

Rhaenyra paused, looking up at the two of you kissing, watching as her husband claimed your mouth, his fingers pinching and teasing your breasts. She enjoyed the way you reacted to him, your body quivering beneath them, your hips bucking up towards her.

Daemon slowly pulled away, looking at his wife, and then back at you. His strong hands trailed down your body, his fingers dancing along the curves of your breasts, the swell of your stomach, and the dip of your navel.

Rhaenyra watched his fingers dip inside you, his thumb brushing against your swollen pearl. Your back arched, and you moaned, his touch sending a jolt of pleasure through you.

Daemon smiled and began rubbing you, his fingers moving in slow circles. Then he pulled his fingers out and pushed them past Rhaenyras lips. She sucked them clean, her cheeks flushed as she looked up at him.

"Do you like the way she tastes?" Daemon asked, pulling his fingers from her mouth.

"Yes," she replied, a smile tugging at her lips.

He let out an approving little hum, sitting up and looking down at his wife, his cock still in his hand.

"Continue," he told her.

Rhaenyra nodded and returned to her task, her tongue slow and deliberate, licking and sucking, savoring every drop of you. You felt the heat rising inside of you, the warmth spreading through your body.

You reached out and began to stroke Daemon's cock, his head falling back and his eyes closing.

"Good girl," he said, his voice low.

You pumped his cock, feeling the hard, silky flesh between your fingers, precum leaking from the tip. He moved closer and you licked the head, swirling your tongue around the tip. You could taste the saltiness as you slowly took him into your mouth, feeling the weight of him on your tongue.

You bobbed your head up and down, taking him as deep as you could, your eyes never leaving his. His eyes were dark, filled with lust, his pupils blown wide. He moaned and grabbed a handful of your hair, guiding your head up and down, fucking your mouth.

The sound of his grunts and moans filled the air, along with the soft, wet sounds of Rhaenyras mouth. She had begun to suck harder, her fingers joining her tongue, pumping in and out of you.

You moaned around his cock, the vibrations sending a wave of pleasure through his body, his hips thrusting forward.

"That's it, sweet girl," Daemon murmured, his grip tightening, pulling your hair and forcing you to look up at him. He looked beautiful, his silver hair hanging down, framing his face.

Rhaenyra was moving faster, her tongue and fingers working in tandem, the heat between her thighs intensifying. She pushed you over the edge, your thighs shaking as you came, a muffled moan escaping your lips.

Daemon pulled his cock out of your mouth, smirking as he tapped the tip against your tongue. Then his eyes drifted to his wife, her lips swollen and shining, her cheeks flushed.

He pulled her up and kissed her deeply, tasting the sweetness of your arousal on her lips. He grabbed her hips and pulled her closer, his cock pressing against her stomach.

You watched the two dragons kiss, their tongues sliding against each other, their bodies pressed together. It was a beautiful sight, their silver hair looked as though it was entwined, the moonlight making their skin shine.

Daemon broke the kiss and moved his lips to his wife's neck, sucking and biting, marking her pale skin. She gasped and moaned, her hands pressing into his chest.

You were lying there, your body still trembling from your climax, watching as the queen and king got lost in each other.

You could hear the sounds of their kissing, the soft moans and grunts, the rustling of the sheets. Rhaenyra pushed him back onto the soft bed, trailing kisses over his chest and stomach. Her fingers grazed the scars that covered his chest, the ones she knew all too well.

Daemon watched as his wife took his cock in her mouth, slowly sliding her lips up and down, taking him as deep as she could. He groaned and reached out for you, pulling you closer, his fingers tangling in your hair as he kissed you.

Rhaenyra's eyes met yours, her lips curled around her husband's cock. She looked so beautiful, her eyes wide and filled with lust, her mouth stretched and her cheeks flushed.

She slowly pulled her mouth away from him, moving up to straddle him. He gripped her hips, his eyes filled with desire, his lips parted.

He could feel her wetness against his cock, sliding up and down his length, her breasts bouncing slightly as she moved.

"Kneel for you king," he whispered against your lips, gently biting down on your bottom lip.

You pulled back, slightly confused by his request, until he gestured to his face. You blushed furiously as you realized what he wanted. You moved closer, his hands guiding you, helping you straddle his face, facing Rhaenyra.

She smirked, her eyes locked with yours as you both lowered yourselves. The two of you leaned in and shared a messy kiss, tongues slipping past swollen lips.

Daemon's hummed against you, his stubble scratching your thighs and his hands tight on your hips. He always wanted to die a dragon rider's death... But this? This was a glorious way to go.

Rhaenyra's eyes closed, her head resting on your shoulder as she began to move, her hips rocking, his cock hitting that spot deep inside her. Daemon had never felt such pure bliss, the taste of you on his tongue and the feeling of his wife riding him, the sounds of soft moans like a chorus.

The three of you were lost in the heat and the pleasure, the taste and the touch. You could hear the bed creaking, the headboard hitting the wall, the sheets rustling, the sound of lips and skin crashing against one another.

You watched the way your queen rode her husband, her body moving like water, her hips rolling and grinding against his. You reached down to where they were connected, touching her, feeling the wetness of her arousal mixed with the thickness of her husband's cock.

Daemon groaned and held you tighter, his grip on your hips almost bruising, his mouth devouring you.

Rhaenyra leaned in and kissed you, her hands cradling your face, lips crashing together. You could feel your legs beginning to tremble, the pressure of your release building.

"Cum with me," Rhaenyra purred, her forehead pressed to yours.

You nodded, with half lidded eyes, watching Rhaenyra grind her hips faster, her nails scraping down your arms as she held onto you. The pressure inside you became too much and your climax hit you hard. Rhaenyra's moans were loud and breathy, her head thrown back, her pale skin glistening with sweat, her silver hair cascading down her back and the candlelight danced across her skin.

The two of you rode out your highs, gasping and panting. Your fingers intertwined with hers, the smell of sex heavy in the air. Daemon followed soon after, a guttural moan escaping his lips, his cock twitching, his release spilling into his wife.

You slowly climbed off Daemon and collapsed on the bed, the three of you tumbling into a tangle of limbs and sheets.

Rhaenyra snuggled up next to her husband, his arms wrapping around her and pulling her close. You watched the two of them, a small smile on your lips, the love they had for each other was plain to see. Daemon looked over at you, reaching his arm out and beckoning you to him.

You scooted closer, cuddling up to him, his arm wrapping around your waist.

"This is my favorite one so far," he said softly, kissing your forehead.

Rhaenyra giggled, leaning over him to kiss you, her lips soft and warm. You felt safe and content, lying there with the two dragons, their fingers tracing lazy circles on your skin.

"Shall we keep her?" Rhaenyra asked, looking up at her husband, a lazy smile curling at her lips.

"Indeed, we shall," Daemon replied, his hand moving up and down her arm.

The three of you stayed there for a while, enjoying the closeness, the warmth and comfort of each other's bodies. You could feel your eyes beginning to close, the exhaustion creeping in, the heat from them made you feel sleepy and comfortable.

To be in the presence of not just one dragon, but two, was a great honor. But to be their mistress? Their shared lover? That was the rarest of privileges, one that you would savor for the rest of your days.

[em-writes-stuff-sometimes]

OMG no way are you going to write an AU of Daemon's visions at Harrenhal??? I know its AAAAAGES away from where you are in the current story but desperate hos wanna kno ;)

Ask, and ye shall receive!

until i bleed myself dry

Note: This is technically using the characters/characterisation I have established in my terms of endearment series, but really you only need to know that the Reader is Rhaenyra's younger sister and that, instead of marrying Laena, he spent a decade ho-ing it up in Pentos before coming home and getting dazzled by his niece before deciding to wife dat gurl.

WARNING: Please note this is dark, dark stuff. Discretion is advised. Please use your judgement wisely before engaging.

Triggers: graphic depictions of violence, violence against children, character d*ath, MAJOR hallucinations, sexual scenes including visibly underaged character/s.

There is something fucking wrong with this place.

Daemon feels like a skittish child as he withdraws to his chambers, covers drawn up to his neck like the fabric will keep away the very worst of midnight evils. He does not know if the steady drip, drip, drip he hears is in his head or if the stone ceiling is cracked enough to let through the rain. Knowing Harrenhal, he would hardly be surprised by the latter. Still, the noise only serves to speed the racing of his thoughts, turning them fearful as he has not felt since the weakness of his youth.

In this moment, he curses his own doings. If he had stayed his hand—if he had held his tongue—the boy would not be dead, and mayhaps you would not be so wroth with him. He would not be alone in this shithole of a keep a world away, chilled to the bone and miserable as he thinks of you warm and safe in your bed with the children. Without him.

When he finally falls asleep, he dreams.

He knows it is a dream, for he can hear your humming. Soft, sweet, the kind of tune you sing to Daeryx after one of his tantrums. His head lifts from the pillow and he finds himself back in your shared rooms on Dragonstone, eyes finding you in the chair by the hearth. Your hair, unbound, shines like molten amber in the firelight, swaying softly as you tend to business that is concealed from his gaze. Enthralled, he rises, making his way to you.

Drip, drip, drip.

He pauses. That sound… it doesn’t belong here. He calls your name. You ignore him. He moves closer, tentative.

“Come look,” you murmur suddenly, startling him. “Come, kepus.”

His feet move unbidden, out of his control.

Bile pools at the back of his throat, gut curdling at the sight of the boy—the boy—cradled in your lap. You and he are wet with blood, and it drip, drip, drips to the floor, echoing eerily. His eyes are open, face petrified, and Daemon realises that the dark at his neck is not in fact a shadow but a gaping wound, made jagged by the weapon used.

You look up at him, skin shining with sweat and expression exultant. “Look at him, kepus. Look at what you made.”

Memory flashes—he brings his son back down to rest beside his daughter on your lap, two moonshine miracles side by side. “Look at them, kepus,” you whisper, spellbound. “Look at what we made”—and his lungs constrict. You make to lift the child up, but the movement jostles his head off its perch, and it rolls to the ground to stop by his feet. He cannot move. He is frozen, horrified.

You smile, tucking the headless corpse under your chin. Gore pulses against your throat as your chin settles to the yawning maw of the child’s open neck. You rock in your seat, a faint squelch each time your shifting weight disturbs the sodden cushion beneath you.

“I love him,” you whisper, lips pressing to where flesh meets innards. Your mouth comes away red. “I love him so much.”

Daemon awakens with a yell. He swallows once, twice, and then—

He leans over the side of the bed, retching violently. When it is over, he curls up on his side, shaking, staring at his hands. They are wet with blood.

It does not take long for terror to settle in his bones like a longtime companion. It follows him each day, in every waking moment, manifesting in strange visions that he knows—he knows—must be untrue, cannot possibly be real, and yet… And yet. There is a sort of verity in them.

Dark Sister feels like a leaden weight at his hip as he stalks the keep, a reminder of his earlier encounter with Rhaenyra. Only she was not the Rhaenyra he knows, and instead a strange sort of blend of child-queen, the face of the girl peering out accusingly from under her father’s too-large crown, exclaiming all manner of hurt as she stepped from the Iron Throne upon which she perched.

“You put me on that throne. And you love me, and you hate me for it. You created me, Daemon. Yet you are now set on destroying me. All because your brother loved me more than he did you.”

And, without warning, he had taken his blade up in arms and struck off her head, a puppet on strings pulled by another. As her body fell, it morphed into the boy again. Jaehaerys. The child he had murdered. He heard your humming even while Simon Strong’s voice filtered through his unconscious mind, alerting him of the raven that just arrived.

The healer woman’s concoctions have helped little. He still wakes to strange noises, still finds himself stalking after his monstrous one-eyed nephew down the halls, only to find that it is himself he is pursuing. He hears the words you yelled at him in that last great quarrel— “get away, leave before you turn on us and murder us like you murdered that boy”—interspersed with the sound of your screams, and perhaps they are the screams you let out when birthing his children, or perhaps they are screams of a different kind, a version of himself making good on the implication of your words, steel in hand and pursuing his love, his life, his blood—

These figments blur with reality to the point that he becomes unsure of what is before him and what exists only in his head to haunt him. He comes to dread the resting hours, only to find their horrors bleeding into daylight. Whatever strange power has come to roost in his mind serves only to bring him torment.

Perhaps this is why he is not immediately suspicious when he comes face-to-face with you once more.

You stand by the window, the dim light filtering weakly over your bare form. Your back is to him, curls spilling to brush the tops of your buttocks. Their gentle sway—the barest kiss to your skin—is tantalising, and his mouth dries even as he watches your neck crane, sly smile tossed back over your shoulder at him.

“Daemon,” you beckon. Like a cuntstruck fool, he is helpless to resist the call.

His hands settle to the familiar divots of your waist, up and up and up to cup the fullness of your tits. You lean into him, a quiet huff of pleasure escaping as his fingers squeeze and his lips fall unbidden to the slope of your jaw. He inhales deeply, stirred even now by the simplicity of your scent, a throbbing line straight to his groin. You turn in his hold, nose nuzzling against his chin.

“You were right,” you say, eyes shining. “You were always right.”

He is under some enchantment, surely, for he is incapable of coherent speech. All he can do is feel the satisfaction heat his veins, allow it to tug at the corner of his mouth. I knew it, he thinks. I knew her will would bend eventually.

You speak still, even as he backs you toward the bed. “Papa was weak. Rhaenyra is weak. Only you are the true blood of the dragon.”

You shift backward onto the mattress, legs parting invitingly. The split of you opens, revealing flushed folds and the teasing glimmer of want, shining slick for his hungered gaze.

“Fearless”—your hand trails down your belly, fingers tracing around your pearl—“brave”—you venture lower, pressing teasingly at your cunt, your lip caught between your teeth—“strong.”

Daemon drops to his knees before you, tongue licking through the spill and catching on your finger. He bullies it out of the way, arms locking around your thighs as he gluts himself on the sweet tang of you, senses clouding and narrowing to a singular point of existence. You grip his hair, the arches of your feet digging against his back.

“It is not my place to question you,” you breathe, twisting and writhing with his ministrations. He watches your face, enraptured by the toss of your head and the shape of your lips as they form moan after moan. Your release is quick, a final sobbing yelp followed by a flood of slick warmth. When your eyes reopen, they are blazing with reverence. Reverence for him. Your knees flex up, your lower half folded almost to your chest. Your cunt contracts, fluttering like the wings of a butterfly. “I live to serve you, my king.”

His head feels heavy as he rises just barely to crawl over you. He frowns. When he lifts his hand to extricate yours from his hair, he finds not flesh, but cool metal. A crown.

“My king,” you coo below him.

Your surroundings are changed. It is not the meagre offerings of Harrenhal that frame you now, but the sumptuous trimmings of the king’s chambers in the Red Keep, only brighter, more lavish than they ever have been. Jewels sparkle at your throat, in your hair, at your wrists. The sheets are molten gold against your silver-pale, and you wind your hips up at him provocatively, catching his cockhead against your opening.

“You belong on the throne, husband,” you say, fist closing around his shaft and pumping once, twice. You lead him back to the core of you, nudging him just inside. “Uncle. My love. And I belong at your side—at your feet—under your body.”

“My queen,” he gasps, driving forward with a grunt, and oh, he has missed you, missed this, missed the clutch of your walls like a mother’s embrace and the sound of your breathy cries as he plunges deep. Plunges home.

“My king,” you call out, rising into him with unrestrained abandon, precious gems clinking frantically with each fevered hitch of his hips against yours. “My lord. My master. I was made for you.”

“Yes…”

“Chain me to this bed, my king.” Your spine arches toward him, hands grabbing for his own and leading them above your head. He takes this for the encouragement it is, pinning your wrists to the pillow and rutting harder. You shout, elbows flexing to no avail. “Give to me my purpose. Give me your heirs.”

He is helpless to stop the noises escaping his mouth, feral and uninhibited, fucking with near painful intent. You take it all, curving yourself deeper, holding yourself more open so that he may lay claim to his conquest. As only a king can.

“And when I have birthed one,” you say, though now it is more a prolonged keening sound, “give me another. Never stop. Oh! Make me—make me take it—”

He does not know if he is imagining it or if it is happening before his eyes, but he can see it: ruling the Seven Kingdoms, sitting the Iron Throne the way his brother never could, striding down the halls of the keep as the commons bow and scrape to their sovereign, bursting into his chambers after small council to find his queen, to find you where you always are, naked in his bed and belly round and leaking milky white between your thighs, for it is his kingly law that the only part you play here is this, waiting for him to find you and fuck you and fill you and keep you, his little niecewifequeenpet—

He snarls, pulsing and burning. You squeal as he pushes past onslaught and straight to violence, bodies colliding so forcefully that his bones ache and his brain feels like jelly wobbling in his skull. What leaves his mouth can only be bestial in nature now. “I’ll make you—”

“Yes, make me take it until I cannot. Until my cunt is ruined by you.” He feels his end rushing up with every word you wail, his joints locking and grinding and gut roiling with the anticipation of it. “Until my womb is destroyed. Until I bleed myself dry, my king. Only for you.”

“Wha—”

The horror of it escapes him, for it is too late: the release crashes on him like a tidal wave, shoving him below its surface and imprisoning him in its current. He makes a noise like a wounded boar, chasing through the high despite the alarm in his mind, so at odds with the soaring rhythm in his loins.

You laugh, tilting welcomingly to receive him. “Make me bleed, my king. Make me bleed like my mother.”

It is enough to chill the heat in his blood to ice, destroying any semblance of enjoyment. But he cannot stop the unsteady eking out of what remains of his peak. He tries, but he cannot stop.

“No,” he says, a contradiction to the enthusiasm of his flesh prison. “No, no, I cannot. No—”

“What do you mean?” you ask, a strange quality to it. A duality. It crystallises into something comprehensible with every word that comes from your lips. All at once, it is not your voice he hears, but something much higher, younger, blending and overlapping with the cadence he recognises. “You already have.”

He looks down as he makes his final groaning thrusts, only to feel his stomach drop through the floor. Your thighs are soaked in blood, his cock sluicing a path through it all the while. All that flesh covered in red, and he glances up, only to see that you are gone, you are replaced by someone so small, so frightfully small, and he realises you are not replaced, it is you, but it is a you he has not seen for well over ten years, eyes wide and frightened and gleaming like game stuck through by an arrow and taking its final breath.

Daemon rears back, but it is too late. You begin to cry. A dark patch spreads out from underneath your broken body, from where he had torn your fragile opening apart. What have I done? he thinks.

“It hurts, kepus,” you say. “It hurts.”

“I’m sorry,” he chokes out, fixed to stillness by revulsion. “I’m sorry. I never meant to—”

“But you did,” you insist, childish pout despite your obvious agony.

Your hands reach out, and he leans away, too horrified to touch you—and he doesn’t know if it is you or he that he is more afraid of in this moment—but you are not searching through the air for him, no. Instead, a bundled weight is settled in them, and you bring it into the crook of your arms, gripping it as though it is the most precious of objects. You smooth the fabric from the top of it to reveal a tiny head of silver hair. The babe gurgles and roots at your flat chest, absurd and awful.

“This is what you wanted,” you say, eyes filled with betrayal. “Am I going to die now, kepus?”

Your Grace…

He shakes his head, but he is no fool. You are too little to withstand the sheer volume of blood you have lost if the bedding is anything to go by. He feels it stain his legs. He feels it drying on his cock.

“Your Grace?”

“I will, though. I’m too young. You’ve killed me.” The babe begins to suckle, and you cry harder. Your body isn’t built for this task, not yet, not like this. He wants to protest, to tell you that this is not his work, cannot be, for he has and would never do something so foul, so wholly inhuman, that the you he has gotten with child has only ever been a woman grown, but it is like you know his thoughts for you scoff and say, “You’re lying to yourself. I was always too young. You just refused to see it.”

He stares down at you, immobile, unable to even think. The metallic scent of your life leaving you fills the air, floods his nostrils with stinging heat.

“… Your Grace?”

Daemon jolts, blinking. Ser Simon Strong looks back at him. “Is the duck not to your liking, Your Grace?”

All at once, you are gone. The king’s chambers are gone. He is not even within his dank chambers at Harrenhal. Instead, he sits at the table in what passes for the dining hall here, a plate full of food steaming before him. The smell makes him ill.

“There’s also goose, if you’d prefer…”

He swallows, trying to ground himself in the present. Voices waft all around him, but he finds it difficult to pay attention.

“I’m not hungry,” he says shortly. It sounds stronger than he feels.

A pause, and then—

Simon clears his throat, turning to his companions. “I was saying, given the rather dire news…”

Daemon tries to concentrate. He does. He knows the others are speaking of matters of utmost importance. Of  Rook’s Rest, of his nephew, of the war. But his mind can only turn over his encounter—his vision? His nightmare? Or is it merely truth finally unveiled to unworthy eyes?—with you, the last of your words haunting him near to madness.

“I was always too young. You just refused to see it.”

He has grown restless here, revolving between the frustration of securing an army from those who see naught in him but the very worst and the torment of these terrible visions that seek him out at their pleasure, heedless of his duty or desire. Tedium or terror—when he is entrenched in one, he wishes for the other, and there is always a sick sort of irony in the granting of said wishes. In truth, he is able enough to tolerate the resistance of these riverlanders, insulting as it is. The phantasms that pursue him have almost become too much to bear.

What is worse? The accusations from the mouth of a juvenile Rhaenyra, full of admonishments for the way he’d so thoroughly undermined her claim before she ever got the right to exercise it? The condemnations from Viserys, a retracing of steps trod so long ago, brought to life once more and forcing Daemon to relive the very worst of his brother? The boy’s laughter darting through the stone halls, an ominous prelude to the sickening sound of steel sawing through skin and the rolling of his head, landing always at the feet of the one responsible for his fate?

They are all bad enough as they are, but for the simple fact that they do not surprise him. Monster, they call him, and he wears the name well. In most all aspects, he is a monster. But never has he thought himself monstrous to you.

He has come to despise the sight of you here, sometimes docile and worshipful, sometimes angered and raving. Sometimes you appear as a siren come to lure him to iniquity, and like a fool he always falls into the trap. Other times, you are battered, caged, a shell of yourself. No matter how it begins, the end is always the same: bloodied, beaten, fading from the world, and it is always his hands he finds the cause of it in. A new reminder every time of all the ways he has thought of taking you, owning you, keeping you. Always, he thinks to save you—to protect you. Always, he destroys you.

Just as he thinks himself finally driven to the edge of all reason, the Rivers woman beckons him to the godswood.

“When you came here,” she says, “you were a closed fist. You wished to bend the world to your will. But you’ve discovered, I think, that… this world will not be governed. There are omens here for those who seek them.”

She pauses. The air seems to whisper, to creak in the dark. Daemon suppresses the urge to shiver. Her eyes move to him, an odd little quirk to her mouth. Amusement, he thinks. Or pity.

“You do not scoff?” she asks.

How can he, after all he has seen here? He has been brought to the very edge of sanity by these omens. What irony, it is, after the great complaints he has made of superstition in past weeks (and months, and years).

“I’m no longer inclined to,” is his short reply.

She laughs. “I’m pleased to hear it.”

She stops before the heart tree and turns to him, expression solemn.

“Do you wish, then, to learn what is given to you?” The answer must lie in his face, for he cannot do anything but stare, silent, tense. “All your life, you have sought to command your own fate”—she takes his hand—“but today, you are ready.”

Gentle pressure at his wrist, and something in him knows to move past her, to take those final few steps so that he is close enough to make out the details of the face carved into the wood. His arm raises by itself, acting on its own power, or perhaps some higher power, his fingers brushing bark and the hot pulse of… blood? But he has no time to truly question it for—

He is flying—

No—

He is a raven, staring at the face of a pale-haired man with a wine-dark stain on his face and he flies into the forest, towards an army, only there is something wrong with the soldiers, they are blue and their eyes glow ice-cold and their breath is frosted with death and their bodies carry the look of corpses stood upright once more—

And then the dragons are dead, all of them, the ground wet not with water but with blood and he walks through it, falls straight into the ground and he is drowning, steel plate armour dragging him down into the depths and he looks up at the sky—

A red comet bursts through the air, hot like fire, and he sees eggs embroiled in flame, a girl sat in ash cradling the bodies of three newly-hatched dragons, a whisper of a memory on the air, “we are the only ones able to bring the fire to life… It is the secret”—

And he is before the Iron Throne, suddenly silent.

Rhaenyra stands before the seat. Viserys’s crown is in his hands. She moves toward him, down the stairs of the throne. He hears her speak.

“From my blood…”

But she does not finish. A roaring conflagration engulfs her and she screams, twisting and warping before him, burning, only not, because you step from the flames, unburnt, voice mingling with that of your sister’s, a haunting echo.

“… come the Prince Who Was Promised…”

You are before him, taking the crown from his grasp and retracing the steps your sister took, and then you are stepping over a charred body, Rhaenyra, oh gods, and ascending the steps. You sit. You lift the crown. You place it on your head.

“… and his shall be the song of ice and fire.”

He is on his knees now, right on that final step at your feet. He feels the warmth of you as you bend forward, your palm caressing his jaw. You look otherworldly in the shadow, backlit silver and gold and wearing a king’s accoutrements far better than any of your predecessors.

“You know what must happen now, Uncle,” you say gently, kindly. “You know what you must do.”

He bows his head to kiss your ring—the seal of the king—no, the queen—and then wind is whistling in his ears, chilling him to the bone and spraying his hair about wildly, so much so that he can barely hear the words yelled at him by the boy sitting astride Vhagar.

“You have lived too long, nuncle.”

—and he wrenches away, panting, body collapsing before the heart tree like a puppet with its strings cut. The world comes back to him in fragments: the scent of dirt and woodlands, the sharp sting of cold, the ache in his muscles that has since settled like sludge at the bottom of a river, ever-present and persisting. Finally, finally, he withdraws with hands washed clean, free of his many sins.

At last, he has come to the crux of it. At last, he understands.

He sits at the base of the tree, stunned and overcome, as faint words slither on the breeze, a final knell from the liminal space of prophecy. Your name. A cheer.

“Long live the queen! Long live the queen!”

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[jacesvelaryons]

(Modern! Jace Velaryon x Female!Reader) Social Media AU

summary: Modern Jacaerys Velaryon is an heir to the Targaryen Corp, and also has a decent following on social media. You and him have the best time together, making the most out of life being young, beautiful and successful. Spot the cameos of our other HOTD characters in a lot less stressful circumstance where everyone gets along in modern day. 😅

a/n: please keep sending in your requests! i love hearing and writing for you guys. i’ll get them back to you as soon as possible alongside a ton of original work i plan to share. will post a previews of my upcoming work with their posters and all.

masterlist

requests OPEN

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jacaerysvelaryon posted a story

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↩️helaenasbugs too busy at the bar that’s why 😒 why did you get out of rehab idiot

[targaryen-dynasty]

SEMPITERNAL. (5/5)

Dad!Maegor Targaryen x niece!Reader

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

WORDS: 4.3 K

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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