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aemondsbabe · 1 month

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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! :)

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thekinslayed · 19 days

Text

This Heaven Gives Me Migraine

summary | The revelation of your betrothed's involvement with your half-sister sends you straight into Criston's arms. Harwin is shown what he has been missing out on.

pairing | criston cole x legitimized bastard!reader x harwin strong

tags | 18+, minors dni, unprotected sex, oral sex (f), oral sex (m), cuckolding, threesome, Harwin's monster cock, daddy issues if u squint, reader is loosely based on shiera seastar

wordcount | 4.6k

note | lmao this gif is the only one i've found of them in the same frame 😭 don't ask how old anyone is, idk either <3

likes, comments, reblogs are much appreciated!

song rec | Natural's Not In It - Gang of Four

(dividers by @zaldritzosrose)

When Lyonel Strong offered his son Harwin to the Princess Rhaenyra, King Viserys merely laughed in his face, stating his son was not good enough for his heir. He was, however, good enough for you, the king’s legitimised bastard. The King sired you with a Lyseni woman, whom he was introduced to by his brother Daemon and his then-lover Mysaria. That night was merely a lapse in his judgement, he had let his cock hold authority over his head. The King was determined to erase any evidence of his wrongdoings by having you sent to the Sept, but then, your mother had died, and the young queen Aemma could not find it in her heart to send a babe like you away. You were taken in a year before Rhaenyra was conceived, having served as the Queen’s temporary comfort when she struggled to produce an heir. It was the will of the good queen to have you legitimised, though despite being formally named a Targaryen, you felt like an outsider in your own family.

You had all your father’s Valyrian features, but only half the love he bore for your half-sister Rhaenyra. In some ways, you understood. You were the walking reminder of Viserys’ mistakes, and the King was adept at pretending you were invisible. The thought did little to quell the hurt in your chest as you longed for an ounce of attention Viserys bestowed on Rhaenyra.

However, you made this work in your favor. With the order of succession having skipped you, all the attention was on your younger sister. This allowed you more freedom, you took on numerous lovers, dabbled in creating potions and elixirs, and flew across the realm on your dragon as much as you wished. You grew more distant from Rhaenyra as you enjoyed the joys that came with your autonomy, while she held the pressure of being the King’s heir.

Despite the pleasures you had freely taken for yourself, you were still a princess with duties to uphold. And so, your hand was offered to Ser Harwin, as a gesture of good faith with the Strongs.

You liked Harwin. Good, honourable Harwin. He was courteous, a man of good breeding. He would clutch your hand at his elbow when you walked through the gardens, listening to every single detail you shared. His sweet words often rendered you blushing like a maiden, tugging on your heartstrings in a way no man ever had. You would often find him awaiting you in the Dragonpit when you returned from your flights, a kiss planted upon the back of your hand when you approached him. With some convincing, you would succeed in persuading Harwin back to your chambers some nights, where you sat upon his lap, grinding on his thigh while he claimed your lips. Nothing more, of course.

“We cannot, princess. Not yet.” He would whisper, stopping you from taking things any further, much to your frustration. You were dying of curiosity to learn what he was like in bed. Surely, the name Breakbones didn’t only apply to his physical prowess on the battlefield. On the nights he would be away with the City Watch, a fresh vase of flowers would always be sent from him, awaiting you on your nightstand.

And when Harwin was away, you would find yourself in Criston’s arms.

Your trysts with the Kingsguard started not long after Rhaenyra sent him away from her midst with a broken heart. He was but a dog with his tail stuck in between his legs when you had set your eyes on him. At first, you were apprehensive about taking what you thought were your half-sister’s scraps, but it did not take long for you to realize you had struck gold. Criston fucked, hard. He would take you with an air of desperation in his thrusts, as though you would disappear once he failed to satisfy you. The knight was eager to please, taking you any way you liked, however many times you wanted to. The maester was surely suspicious about how frequently you requested for moon tea on the mornings following your nights with Criston, but you made sure to remind him of your knowledge of the whores he would sneak into the Keep for his own debauchery, something your father would surely not appreciate.

You should be thankful for Rhaenyra, really. If it weren’t for her, you wouldn’t be lost in the dizzying haze of your nights with Criston, free to claim him as you wish, while she carried her and Laenor’s first. Hells, even Alicent didn’t mind you whisking away her sworn shield the second he was relieved of his duties. While no plans about your marriage to Harwin were set yet, you enjoyed your last bits of freedom with your lover, while imagining the moment you would finally be claimed by the Strong knight in your marriage bed.

Your brows furrowed as you stared at the babe that lay in the cot. Beside you, your father cooed, tickling the boy’s nose with his fingertip. Pale skin, brown hair. How in the Seven Hells did this happen? Your eyes met that of Alicent’s, who held the same glint of confusion in her big, round eyes.

You flashed Rhaenyra and Laenor a fake smile as the King showered them with praises for producing an heir. Words of good wishes fell from your lips, to which the couple responded with their gratitude. The babe stirred from the voices surrounding him, opening his eyes to reveal a vivid blue.

No.

It couldn’t be.

You’ve heard of the whispers circulating in court about your sister and your betrothed, though you had paid them no mind. The lords and ladies often had little to do to entertain their boring lives which often resulted in forming insipid rumours about the royal family. Once, they had speculated you bathed in blood to preserve your beauty, which you only scoffed at in response. You had only turned five and twenty!

But this… this was hard to deny.

You left your half-sister’s chambers with the Queen, speaking in hushed whispers as you both walked through the halls while Ser Criston trailed behind you. “I cannot believe this! Do you think…” Alicent trailed, careful with her words as she looked at your troubled expression.

“My sister, s-she… She would never bring such shame upon my name. Wouldn’t she?” You asked, turning to both Alicent and Criston. Your shoulders sagged when they said nothing but only exchanged doubtful looks. A pit formed in your stomach at the realization.

“It is too soon to say, dear girl. Do not fret, the truth will reveal itself soon, yes?” Alicent reassured you, rubbing your shoulders comfortingly.

The truth did, in fact, reveal itself during the feast celebrating the birth of Rhaenyra’s heir. Jacaerys Velaryon, future King of the Seven Kingdoms. You were sat beside young Aegon, who looked unamused by the whole affair. You felt him tug at your sleeve, making you lean down. “Why does he have brown hair?” He asked.

“I am not quite sure, my sweet, but don’t you think he has his father’s eyes?” You said, smiling at him sweetly. When he merely shrugged his shoulders, you caressed his silver head of hair, before directing your gaze to the crowd, unconvinced by your own words.

While the lords and ladies cheered for the introduction of the babe to the court, you watched your betrothed. His eyes lit up with joy, shimmering blues under the light of the Great Hall, though they were not looking at you. His gaze was directed at your sister who sat beside your father.

Your chest panged with hurt, your jaw ticked in anger at this shameless display. You turned your head to meet Rhaenyra’s gaze, which met yours for a second, before looking away to avoid your sharp stare. A scoff left your lips, rising from your seat to leave the Great Hall. The sound of your shoes shuffling against stone echoed through the empty halls as you returned to your chambers, slamming the door behind you.

A cup of wine was poured in haste, and your shaky hands brought it to your lips, chugging its contents down. You slammed the cup back down onto the table, before pouring yourself another. Some herbs were crushed and added to the cup of red, with the hopes of soothing your aggravated state. Behind you, you heard the sound of your door opening, followed by quiet footsteps and the clinking of metal.

“Princess,” You heard him say.

“What are you doing here?” You asked, not facing the man who stood by your door. “I came to make sure you were alright,” He responded softly. Your head dropped as you sighed, your ringed fingers clutched the end of the serving table, weight leaning on the wood.

“How could they do this to me? My own sister, my future husband?” You trembled with anger. A gloved hand clutched your elbow, prompting you to turn around to meet the Dornishman’s gaze.

Criston looked at you with worry while you shook your head, an incredulous laugh leaving your lips. “Gods, what a fool I am.”

“Don’t say that.” He interjected, frowning at your words.

“But I am,” You asserted, stepping away from him to walk towards the chaise with the cup of wine in your grip. “Fucking Harwin. I let him convince me what an honourable man he is, what a fine husband he would make.” You grumbled before you took a big swig from your cup. Criston silently listened, standing with his hands clutched together at his back. “I could care less if he took another to bed, the gods know I am not innocent of that either,” You pointed out, to which your lover gave you a look.

“But my own sister,” You fumed, tone heavy with incredulity. “What will the court say of this? Of me?”

A silence passed through the room, the only sound being the crackling of the hearth. After a moment, Criston took a step towards you, tugging off his gloves.

“Do you love him?” He asked, making you turn towards him. You pondered on his words. Though you bore good feelings for the Gold Cloak, it was too soon to call it love, and after this debacle, you could hardly consider him worthy of your affection.

“No,” You answered with conviction, your gaze upon Criston unwavering. “Not with the utter humiliation the birth of this bastard shall bring me.”

The hard metal of his armor is cool against the skin of your back as your knight pressed his front against your clothed behind. He dipped his head to kiss the exposed skin of your shoulder, nuzzling his face into the base of your neck. The stubble on his face tickled, his familiar scent wafting into your senses as you leaned your head against his.

“He is not worthy of you, none of them are,” Criston rasped. His hands slithered to embrace your waist, a sigh leaving your lips when you finally relaxed into his arms. “Harwin is an imbecile, blind to his fortune of having the most beautiful woman in the realm promised to him.”

A breathless chuckle left your lips at his words. You turned in his arms to face the knight, cupping his stubbled jaw to stare into his eyes.

“You are so good to me,” You tell him, nudging your nose against his. Criston’s heart thumped against his chest, and for a moment he worried you would hear it knock against the metal of his chestplate. He closed his eyes, pressing his forehead against yours.

Oh, the things he would do to make you all his.

Criston hated sharing, especially with that dolt Strong. If he could, he would take you away from all of this madness, and fulfill the promise of a life of freedom and love. But he cannot let himself hope, not again.

“I would do anything for you, my princess,” Criston whispered lowly, a kiss planted to the skin of your wrist to seal his vow.

“Anything?”

“Yes, yes. Anything, ask and it shall be done,” He affirmed, looking at you with sincerity in his eyes. Your heart warmed at his words, his unwavering loyalty to you something you feel completely undeserving of. You would be lying if you said you hadn’t spent many nights imagining what life would be like with Criston as your husband. Rhaenyra had told you of his promise of taking her away to Essos, for a simple life forged with love. Your sister thought the prospect entirely ridiculous. But you, you could do it. There was little keeping you here, no father who gave you love, no duty to tie you down, no throne to bleed you dry. But you cannot, not yet at least. The moment shall present itself in the future, this you knew in your heart. And when it does, you shall ask Criston to go with you and you shall never look back. For now, you settled with planting a kiss on his lips.

“I do not ask for much, just you,” You said against his lips. He cupped your chin to pull you back against his lips, deepening the kiss as his tongue pried your mouth open. “You have me,” He breathed out.

Kissing turned into gnawing as Criston all but devoured your mouth. You fumbled to undo the knots holding up his breastplate. One by one, you both worked to remove his armor, the metal plates falling on the fur carpet with a soft thud. Now clad in only his gambeson and breeches, your lover pulls you to his chest, relishing in the giggle that left you as you found your way to your bed.

He sat on your bed, turning you around to quickly undo the laces of your gown. Once the dress fell and you were clad only in your shift, Criston pulled you into his lap, your thigh caging one of his, arms snaked around his neck. You ran a hand through his recently shortened locks, biting your lip as he regarded you with a lovestruck look.

“I told you it would look better shorter,” You commented, earning a rare smile from the usually reserved knight. Your lips captured his once more, tongues twisting against each other. His large hand cupped your breast, earning him a moan. The neckline of your shift is pushed down to reveal your chest, your nipples pert against Criston’s breath as he nuzzled his face into the plump flesh. Another moan escaped you when he took one of your tits into his mouth. A gush of arousal dripped from your core as your lover played and toyed with your mounds of flesh, your hips ground against his thigh mindlessly. Throwing your head back in delight, you blindly reached down to find the lace of his breeches, haphazardly untying them to dip your hand to stroke his cock. He groaned against your breast as you started to touch him, dragging your hand up and down his hardened length. Your hips continued to ground against his muscular thigh, smearing your essence on the fabric of his trousers. Your jaw fell open as he lifted his thigh higher, directing you to the edge of his knee. A whimper left you when your pearl rubbed deliciously against his kneecap, grounding your hips harder into his leg as the coil in your core threatened to snap. A chorus of grunts and whines echoed through the room as you both chased release. Criston’s hips started to thrust into your hand as you stroked him in rhythm with your grinding. The growing heat in your belly indicated how close you were to the precipice, hips growing desperate as you hurled yourself to the end. Before you were thrown over the edge, however, the door to your chambers flew open, and Harwin’s hulking figure entered.

“What is the meaning of this?” His voice boomed, blue eyes widened after having caught you and Criston in such a precarious position. You hid your surprise at his intrusion, turning to face Harwin but made no move to rise from Criston’s lap.

“What right do you have to barge into my chambers, Ser Harwin?” You reprimanded, looking at your betrothed angrily. Blue eyes raked from your exposed chest down to where your hand disappeared in Criston’s pants. The Gold Cloak gulped, before straightening up to meet your displeased gaze.

“You disappeared from the feast, princess, I was sent here to fetch you. I heard noises from the hall, I thought you were…” He trailed off, eyes shifting to Cole who had a smug look on his face. Harwin’s fists clenched as the urge to smash the Dornishman’s face threatened to overwhelm him. You scoffed at your betrothed, pulling away from Criston to rise to your feet.

“You need not worry about me, Ser, so please, leave us.” You ordered, earning an incredulous look from the taller man.

“I am not leaving you with him! This is the most improper,” He contended, standing his ground. Your eyebrows raised at his words, a smirk on your lips rose upon hearing him.

“You are one to lecture me on what is and what isn’t proper. Tell me, don’t you have other pressing matters to attend to? Your newborn son, perhaps?” You questioned. Harwin glared at Criston when he snickered at your words, before turning to you with an apologetic look.

“Princess, you have to understand, I did not intend to–”

“No? What, did your cock just accidentally found its way into my sister’s cunt? Spare me the excuses, Harwin, I have no need for them.” You seethed. Harwin reached out to you, but you stepped away from him before he could hold you. His eyes flickered to where Cole still sat on your bed, then back to you. “I am not leaving.” He repeated, standing his ground.

“Fine, watch then.” You ordered, turning around to walk back to your lover. You resumed your previous position in Criston’s lap, cupping his face in your hands. You stared at each other, communicating silently. The knight’s contempt of your betrothed was something you were aware of, and you did not wish for this to evolve into something messier than it already was. Criston was the one to smash his lips onto yours, taking you by surprise. A low moan left you at the familiar taste of him against your lips.

Criston ordered you to rise, which you obeyed, pulling your shift off as you did so. The knight turned you around, facing your bare body to your betrothed who still stood by the door. Harwin’s eyes visibly darkened at the sight of you, blue orbs trailing down your naked flesh. Heat stirred deep within you, cheeks warming at the hungry look in his gaze.

“Best make yourself comfortable, Strong,” Criston spoke up, a mischievous glint in his eye. The hands on your waist urged you to sit back down on his lap, spreading your thighs wide to give Harwin a good view. Your betrothed settled on the chaise faced directly to your bed. You caught how he visibly gulped at the sight of your weeping slit. Criston’s fingers lowered to circle your pearl, a gasp emitting from your lips at his touch.

“Princess,” Harwin started. He fidgeted in his seat, his crotch was starting to strain in his trousers uncomfortably.

“Sit still and be quiet, Harwin,” You commanded, followed by a whine that reverberated from your chest. Criston dipped a finger into your core, groaning when your rear squirmed against his bulge. You started to pant when his middle finger started to fuck you in earnest, eyes fluttering when the pad of his finger rubbed on a particular spot in a way that made your toes clench. Both your hands gripped his muscular bicep when a second finger entered your cunny, filling you in a way your fingers never could.

“This is where your mistake is, Strong. You’ve gone around other women’s beds when you have denied yourself to indulge in what could have been all yours. See how well she takes my fingers?” Criston chided, smirking at the glaring man. His fingers continued to thrust in and out of you, scissoring and rubbing your clit simultaneously with his thumb. Harwin’s fists gripped the armrests of the chaise tightly, almost to the point of breaking. He would have shot up from his seat to drag Cole to the floor if it weren’t for the desperate moan that echoed from you. You paid little attention to whatever was going on between the men, focusing on chasing your release. Your eyes locked on Harwin’s, gaze staying on him as you spilt around Criston’s fingers. Your mouth fell into an ‘o’ while your thighs shook from the weight of your climax.

As you chased your breath, you pulled away from Criston’s lap to rise on wobbly legs to walk to where Harwin sat. His icy blues were glossy against the blaze of the hearth, jaw slightly agape when you stood in front of him. Your hand cupped his jaw, making him tilt his head upwards.

“Will you be good?” You asked, still breathless. Your betrothed wordlessly nodded, letting you grab his hand to lead him to your bed. Criston stared at you questioningly, opening his mouth to voice his defiance. You give him a look, giving no room for argument. The loyal dog that he is, the knight obediently stood up from your bed to stand off to the side.

You ordered Harwin to clean you up with his mouth. He obliged all too eagerly, licking and slurping up your essence with a wet smack. Your eyes rolled back to the back of your skull, humming in delight. You gripped his curls, they felt soft in your palms, in contrast to the rough beard rubbed in between your thighs. Your head turned to the side, and your eyes met Criston’s, who still stood frowning like a kicked dog. You reached out an arm to beckon him over. When he was close enough, your fingers reached for the laces of his breeches to pull out his still-hardened cock. You begin to pump his hand, rubbing at his flushed tip with your thumb. Criston threw his head back and groaned, hips canting forward to chase your touch. With Harwin still devouring your cunt diligently, it took little time for your second release to overwhelm you. Your thighs caged his head, and the pace of your hand on Criston’s length faltered.

When Harwin stood up from his knees, your eyes fell to the bulge straining tightly against his breeches. You allowed him to unlace them, eyes widening at his massive cock. His tip was flushed red, almost purple. The cockhead wept a clear liquid, a sight that made your mouth water.

Seven Fucking Hells.

Your eyes shifted between both men and an overwhelming wave of desire washed over you, tainting you red from your cheeks down to your chest. Looking back to Harwin, you watched as he slowly stroked his cock, eyes silently asking.

“You better fuck me like you mean it, Strong,” You said, eyes hungry.

“You won’t wish for another man’s cock after tonight, princess. This I promise you,” He vowed, an air of arrogance now present as his eyes shifted to Cole who scoffed.

“I wouldn’t be so confident, Ser, not when she aches for mine every night.” The other knight retorted. Your eyes rolled at their display, cunt achingly waiting for either man to stop whining about their cocks and fill you with one of them.

“Well, so far one princess has already taught mine better than yo-”

“Enough.” You cut them off, huffing. You positioned yourself to your knees, awaiting who would start fucking you first.

Criston shoved Harwin out of the way, slipping his cock in before the taller man could protest. A whine left your lips at the familiar stretch, a dull pain so delicious. Criston gave you little time to adjust, thrusting into you brutally. He had a point to prove, and you were responding to him beautifully. You fisted the fine sheets, moaning unabashedly from the way your lover abused your cunt.

You barely registered Harwin standing on the side of your bed, his cock standing tall and proud against his taut abdomen. You lifted yourself to take him in your mouth, sucking in as much as you could. His cockhead hit your uvula with barely half of his length in your mouth, a slight gag squeezing his tip. Your hand stroked whatever length couldn’t fit, pleasuring him in tandem with your mouth. Moans vibrated on his cock, causing Harwin to groan loudly. Behind you, Criston’s pace never faltered. Your body jerked from how hard he was thrusting into you, your walls squeezing him as another wave of release threatened to wash over you.

You took your mouth off of Harwin’s length when your third climax had you whining like a wanton whore. Your hand slapped on his abdomen to ground yourself, and your nails dug into his pale skin. Your release triggered Criston’s, the Kingsguard letting out a broken moan as he spilt into your walls.

You barely get a moment’s reprieve to recover when your cunt is filled once more. Harwin grunted as he took his turn with you, your oversensitive walls still pulsing from your last orgasm. You bit your lips hard at the delicious stretch, his cock filling you differently than Criston’s. His thrusts were short and hard, and his tip kissed your cervix in a way that made your eyes squeeze shut. Curses fell from your lips, tears beading at the corner of your eyes. You moaned out his name in a sob, before pressing your forehead into the mattress to quiet your moans. The noise in your chambers could equal that of a brothel, no doubt able to arouse suspicion in whoever would have the misfortune of passing by. You were a babbling mess, the amalgamation of all the ways you had been ravished by both men robbing you of your usual wit and headstrong demeanor. You felt Harwin grab your wrist, pulling it back towards him to lift your body at an angle. His cock hit you even deeper than before, your ridged walls squeezing him so tight it made it difficult for him to move. Another peak was ripped from you, the hardest one yet. You fell forward onto your mattress, completely boneless. Your mind barely registered the warm spurts of Harwin’s seed that painted your back, lost in the dizzy haze of your pleasure.

When morning came, a cup of freshly brewed moon tea and a bright arrangement of flowers greeted you when you awakened. The memories of the night tainted your cheeks red, the delicious throb of your core the only evidence of what had occurred. Harwin felt a weight lifted off his shoulders when you allowed him to accompany you for your morning walk in the gardens, any previous contempt for him discarded, for now. What he did was still unforgivable, but if you were to marry, you wished for no ill will to taint your union.

As for Criston, your nights with him were unaffected, though he did seem to fuck you even harder than before. He had even gone so far as to give Harwin a cordial nod when they trained.

Perhaps he should lay off on Strong for a while, a silent truce, if you will. He had you, and that was what mattered most to him. He held his tongue from spitting out his usual nasty remarks about the heir’s brown-haired firstborn and his stark resemblance to the Gold Cloak. Everything was peaceful, good, even, especially with the new arrangement that benefit all three of you.

That peace, however, did not last long, for a year after Jacaerys’ first nameday, the Princess Rhaenyra gave birth to yet another brown-haired babe, Lucerys.

#bella writes ✍️#criston cole x reader #criston cole x you #criston cole smut #ser criston cole #criston cole #harwin strong x reader #harwin strong smut #harwin strong x you #harwin strong #harwin breakbones #hotd x reader

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bucknastysbabe · 11 months

Text

✾ Happy Bday To A Sweet Lil Kit Named Liv ✾

Therefore I present to you:

♕ The Brother F**king Incest Spectacular ♕

For u bb @fairysluna

Rating: Explicit

Tags: TW: incest, non/con|||dub/con, degrading language, bastard hating, DAERON IS AGED UP!!!!Greens won AU, Jace’s sister reader, gang bang, so much Incest, cunnilingus, sloppy seconds, double penetration, oral sex, pnv!sex, erotic crying, humiliation, Daeron is actually scared but likes her so they run off and be happy duh, Aemond and Aegon are Insane, multiple orgasms, rough sex, m/m/m/f, Jace is broken, why is there kinda angst? Idk

A/N: I don’t tend to lean toward non-con but the brother fucking incest spectacular had been brewed so read the warnings!

“Little Lord Strong,” Aemond sneered from the lofty bed, looking down with a haughty look on his sharp features. Jace squirmed and hissed at the one-eyed prick. His dear sister was pinned between Aemond’s lean legs, face red and teary.

Daeron was quiet, a terrified look on his face as he watched the scene.

Aegon, ever the deviant, palmed himself through his breeches, other hand petting Jace’s poor sister’s hair. He was grinning wildly, violet eyes fervent with glee. He giggled as his younger brother prattled on. Aemond cocked his head towards his siblings and said, “Well. You know what they say about bastards. Lustful, devious sort. I bet she’ll open up like a Lyseni pillow girl.”

Jace barked, “Fuck you! All of you are the deviants! Defiling my maiden sister for what?”

Aegon snorted, “She’s a lovely vixen, we won and you didn’t. Therefore we get our war prizes. Wanted to see what your cunt of a mother was so infatuated by a house as shite as the Strongs.” Jace grimaced and squirmed under his bindings, chest aching at the mention of his true father. The one who had taught him to be a man. He didn’t feel much like one.

Aegon yanked back her hair and got a good look at doe brown eyes, watery with tears, lips swollen more-so than usual. She pled, “Please, please, I cannot help being o-of this nature. Have mercy my king, have mercy!” The giddiness of Aegon’s face morphed into anger.

He hissed in her face, spittle flying, “Did your lovely mother and the rogue cunt give my children mercy?”

She wailed in sorrow, apologizing for something she had nothing to do with. Aemond was wielding the Valyrian ceremonial knife, pointing it towards Jacaerys. He sniffed, “Yes, Lord Strong, was there mercy when your dead brother took my eye, slaughtered my kin, set the kingdom aflame for a seat that belonged to us trueborn?”

Jacaerys remained silent, fidgeting in his bonds, trying to find a way out. There was murder and kinslaying on both sides. The bastard thought he was justified for little Luke. Jace was angry and humiliated. Tears fell down his darkened cheeks. Daeron spoke up, a soft lilt to the youngest brother’s tone.

“You won’t get out of those. Learned the best knots down on the docks of Oldtown. Best if you just sat back and let it get on with. Customary,” he nervously looked to the elder blondes, “Customary right?”

Aegon popped up from his spewing of vitriol, laughing as he reached for more Arbor Red, “Yes, darling Daeron, customary to make sure any dragon blood gets more seed. We have to repopulate. Sorry you must get the leftover bitch as wife.”

Aemond shrugged, “She’s pretty. Had a Strong bitch in Harrenhal, witchy sort, but couldn’t trust a wench that played with magicks.” He began to take off his loose blouse, exposing pale scarred skin, lean and toned. Daeron was stockier, like Aegon but if the eldest didn’t overindulge. The king was a juxtaposition of tight burns and soft overfed flesh. Never a warrior, Jace knew that much.

Jace watched in agony as the boys divested their clothing. He sister wept and shook on the mattress, begging Daeron now. The youngest looked guilty, mouthing, “I’m sorry.” Aegon smacked the Prince from behind the head and chided, “This is your whore for tonight. Quit being the pansy.”

Daeron grumbled back, staring with flushed cheeks. Aemond pulled her ass up roughly, spreading tanned thighs, shapely from dragon riding. Jacaerys howled, “You accursed demon!” The one-eye hummed, “I’ve heard worse, Strong. Enjoy the show.”

Aegon was at full mast, eagerly stroking his thick cock, “As the king I get to fuck those pretty lips,” he smirked, “Aemond you can get her cunt. Daeron it’s either her ass or wait your turn. Feel her up a little, I don’t know.” Daeron’s lilac eyes bounced around the scene, pupils blowing at her gorgeous body, full breasts hanging below, obscene lips covered in drool.

“Go on Daeron, she’s drier than the Boneway,” Aemond frowned. Jace could hand the bastard that, he couldn’t bear to watch her be torn to shreds. Daeron’s body came closer to hers, a calloused hand tentatively rubbing her soft skin, pressing a kiss to her shoulder. She relaxed a smidgeon, nervous eyes peeking around. The brunette had pretty lashes.

The daring himself murmured, “I shan’t treat you like this my lady, we’ll go back to Old Town. J-just feel me and the sensations. Please. Please.”

She whimpered quietly at Daeron engaged her in a gentle kiss, his hand finally coming to knead and tweak her pretty tits. “This isn’t amateur hour, back off, acting like Florian and Jonquil.” Aeg snatched her jaw and ordered, “Open, bastard whore.” She did so, shaking as Aegon dropped his spit into her mouth, easing his thick cockhead into the warm opening.

“That’s better, fuck,” Aegon moaned, eyes lolled. Aemond waited patiently, while he grinned at Jace. He mused, “So easy, so pliable. That’s why your mother liked it. Wanted to control everything, the bitch.” Jace gritted back, “Your mother was a stone cold bitch and we all knew it!”

The Velaryon fumed with anger, eyes flickering to where Aegon was moaning with delight, Daeron caressing and kissing on her smooth skin. His cheeks reddened at where his thoughts were going. Merely a Targaryen instinct— inclination for the blood.

Daeron’s insistent kissing and licking had the princess biting off whines around Aegon’s cock. The king laughed, “Ah, there she is, little slut loves it after all.” Aemond played with her other entrance, feeling wetness begin to gather and dribble delightfully. He backed up and motioned towards the youngest.

“Actually, I want her wetter. Use your tongue Daeron.” Aegon giggled with glee at the idea, Jace groaned, and Daeron swallowed heavily.

He shuffled to her slit, pale eyes boggled at her most private part. His thumb slid through the moistened entrance, cock jumping in surprise. Daeron held up his thumb and suckled the essence off, eyelashes fluttering as he moaned.

“She taste s-sweet, hm?,” Aegon panted. He wouldn’t last long. Never did by all rumors and accounts. The slick noises of her mouth and Aegon’s lurid chattering was making Daeron grow impossibly hot under his skin. He grabbed handfuls of her pert ass and licked at her pretty petals, grinding into the bed.

“Seven hells— the mouth on this one!,” he giggled, “Lick at that bud Daeron, raa-right at the top, make her squeal and slick up.” The youngest did so, suckling on the hooded bud above her opening, inhaling her perfect natural scent. She squirmed and shook, crying out around Aegon. Daeron didn’t stop, intoxicated by his beautiful niece’s noises. She arched her back helplessly, whining.

Aegon gasped and pulled at her thick brown locks, shoving his cock deep into her throat— met with no resistance. He threw his short curls back, belly bouncing, lips agape. The king cried out, “Fuuuuck yess!” Jace saw his uncle’s balls draw tight and he emptied down her once pristine throat. He closed his eyes and whimpered, willing away the indecent thoughts. He could hear her coughing in the background.

Aegon, fuck dumb and lazy, pillowed himself back. He halfassedly gestured for Aemond to have her mouth. The lean man smirked as having her from this angle meant he could torture Jacaerys more. Daeron was busy exploring her, sticking fingers in and lapping excitedly.

“Slow down, you’ll blow before you get your cock in her cunny,” Aegon snorted.

Aemond easily got access, the Princess obediently opening her mouth, eyes far away and hazy. Cum was still wetting her chin, mixed with drool. Aemond wiped it away with the nearest cloth, finding a distaste to be so close to Aegon’s glob of spend. He tilted her head up so the taller Targaryen could ease his long cock down her throat.

“Stick your dick in already, she’s wetter than the Greenblood,” Aegon snapped, greedily gulping wine. He shouted, “Isn’t this just wonderful Jace! Maybe we’ll cut your cock off and make you a handmaiden to this lovely girl.” Jace whimpered, utterly broken and confused. He was so hard it hurt, yet everything disgusted him.

Daeron held his cock, lilac eyes focused on her hole, dipping the tip in, before getting shoved further by one of her frantic hands. Aemond laughed, “Mm! She likes you. We’ll all have to take a test filling her cunt up. Make sure the seed takes.”

The youngest brother’s vision grew blurry as he registered the delicious feeling surrounding his cock. It was better than anything he had tried on himself. She was warm, tight, and pulsing around Daeron’s member. He gripped her hips and fucked wildly, groaning and panting her name.

“Should have taken his virgin ass to the brothels in Old Town when we visited.”

“All the more fun, two little virgins, isn’t that right Lord Strong?,” Aemond jabbed in glee. Jace let out an agonized moan, his balls aching and full. His sister’s gorgeous cries and debauched frame was making him feel insane. Aegon’s nonsensical laugh broke through the haze, making Jace more ashamed…more aroused.

Daeron panted and laid kisses up her back, breathlessly praising, “Oh you feel so good, tell me what to do, please?” Aemond, snapping his hips into the Velaryon’s mouth jeered, “Listen to what the wretch had to say, touch her button.”

Aegon slurred, already stroking his cock again, “When she comes, s’like heaven, milking ya’ cock.”

Daeron reached around to settle between them, circling around her swollen nub, feeling her cunt pulse and hearing excited keening. He pinched and pulled harder, the cries turning into little whimpers as she drew tighter and tighter around him. Daeron felt his eyes crossing at the pressure, fucking harder in a last effort.

Aemond pinched a bouncing teat of hers and ordered, “Come now, Strong slut. Serve your superiors.” He pulled out and watched the scene, on his haunches. The brunette was wailing and crying Daeron’s name. “Oh Gods please, don’t stop, f-fa-feels s’good! What’s- oh my- happening?”

Jace never wished he could be freed more than now, eyes glued to her twitching body, plump lips shining in the dull light. His cock was leaking profusely, needing an outlet for his swollen sac. Daeron gasped as she gushed all over his cock, sniveling and sucking in breath. Tears leaked down her gorgeous face.

The youngest Targaryen just sat in a daze, her throbbing pussy hitting him with wave of wave of ecstasy, his cock unloading all he could have carried into her womb. He selfishly hoped his seed would take, so that his wife’s child was truly his. He kissed and rubbed on her until Aegon cast him aside, laughing, “My turn, lover boy.”

Daeron’s eyes flickered to Jace, whining softly with a red face. His cock had soaked the front of his small clothes, huge member swollen and needy. Gods, the depravity. He absently wondered if the girl was supposed to be Jace’s if it weren’t for the twins.

Aegon was a lazy fuck, making the girl get on top of him and ride and ride until her shaky legs gave out. The king smacked her ass roughly, barking, “You can do better than that with all that dragon riding. Lazy whore.” She whimpered and bounced harder, squeezing Aegon’s soft midsection tight. He moaned, “Soooo much better. Good little bitch.”

He filled her up next with a sloppy finish, leaving some on her belly and legs, proposing, “Since Jace is so needy, we should make him clean her up.” Aemond seemed to love that idea, eagerly fucking her into the soft bed, her legs thrown high up his long body.

He bit and sucked a collar of markings around her neck, snarling, “You belong to us now, no black, no-ngh, fucking greens, just the Targaryens.” She whimpered, “Yes, yes, I belong to you, the rightful family.” Aemond smacked her around some more, around the ass and thighs. He pumped with long strokes, powerful and measured.

Daeron was taking notes. Because she was heaving and clawing his shoulders, mewling when he’d plunge into her ruined cunt. Blood had already dried on the bed. Aegon crawled over and pointed her wet eyes to Jace.

“You want brother dearest to clean you up after? Lick your sore cunny up, coddle you? Or Daeron?”

She scrunched her face up, obviously distressed. Jace whined pathetically, “Sister, sister please, let me, let me?” He was humping the air now, utterly broken and debauched. Aemond smacked her cheek none-to-hard and smarted, “Your king asked you a question!”

She wailed out, “Both! Need both! Gods please! Mmmm!” Aemond’s one eye rolled up at her releasing yet again. She still had some in her, coating his long cock with the gorgeous essence. The long haired prince pumped her for the final time full of his cum, slapping her ass another time for good measure. She shivered and cried, Daeron already to the rescue.

Who knew such a powerful fighter had such a weak heart. Aegon laid back like a cat who got the cream, watching Jacaerys sob and shiver. He’d cum. The evidence was sticky and soaking his small clothes. The princess took one look and begged, “C-can he join? Lick me up like you said my liege?”

Aegon shrugged, “Aemond and I will watch for safety. Can’t believe Lord Strong came in his small clothes watching his sister get fucked by the enemies. I thought we were fucked up.”

“Like you’ll do shite you oaf,” Aemond muttered as he slit the ropes binding Jace. The brunette stumbled to his sister, squatting between her soaked cunt. It was still a bit stretched, puffy and oozing copious amounts of ‘dragonseed’. He began to cry in shame as he cleaned her up.

Daeron softly murmured, “I’ll take good care of her, you’ve been good. So good.” Jace blushed and kept licking, eating up his sister’s sighs of pleasure, Daeron’s long fingers in his dark hair. What a fucking mess this was.

Aegon and Aemond merely laughed like devilish imps. Sadists. “Oh she’ll take the seed alright, she better or we do this again,” he tapped his chin, “We can’t taint her bastardized blood further, so just licking cunny for you dear nephew.”

#hotd fanfic #hotd smut #READ TAGS PLS #velaryon reader #jacaerys x reader #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon ii x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #Daeron targaryen x reader

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