#sub!aegon

[bucknastysbabe]

Hi, could you write something that deals with this? ......

https://www.tumblr.com/mhsdatgo/737617577019408384/gorgeous-little-piece-of-shit-king-that-lives-in

So at first I was like lmfaooooo but then I was like wait I can put this little blonde bitch in the WORST situation. I shall do my best, thanks for the request, I hope to get back to my pathetic Aegon roots for this one.

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Dark divergence from canon, Aegon is more cutthroat, King Aegon, Lannister!Reader, she’s a daughter of Tyland, Tyland is on his king behavior, meanwhile dumbass Jason, Aegon has the wife parade, he’s literally still little baby man, Manipulative and morally gray reader, Aegon Is A Pain Slut, ye olde cock ring, ruined orgasms, Degredation, bratting for like 1s, breeding kink, boobs fixation, overstimmimg, pnv!sex

A/N: Wayyyyyy off canon and just so I can make this guy cry also I try to stray from making oc’s but bc it’s a Lannister reader y’know. Body type/face/skin/hair texture is up to you, just know gold hair and green eyes. Also kinda got into a storyline? Idk smut is here!!!

As Tyland Lannister’s only daughter, he sought to keep you on Casterly Rock. It was rare for a house as proud and mighty as yours not to have their fairest ladies sent to catch a dragon’s eye. Or merely have it chosen for you. Jason would’ve had you wedded and bedded to any of the white haired boys by now. Your father was stated once in a letter, “I’d liken it to a den of snakes rather than dragons.”

From his reports they were strange or downright deviant, controlled heavily by their green side of the family. Rhaenyra’s brood was of a better nature but obviously born from the seed of Harwin Strong. So you went about your duties, becoming a fine educated highborn lady to sit around and pop out babies. Maybe order fancy dresses out of boredom.

Although you childishly dreamt that a handsome white-haired man would take you dragon riding, that was not your future. Fate had other plans. Firstly, you were barred from going to the grand wedding of Prince Aemond to Lady Cassandra Baratheon. Strangely enough, it was to be held at the Hand’s gloomy accursed Harrenhal. You wrote an angry letter to your father and another to Jason, downright distraught over missing another royal wedding. You could find a potential mate at one of these gatherings!

Tyland wrote back simply, “I do not want you in that bewitched place. I have an uneasy feeling about this. I pray for you and love you dear lioness of Lannnister, still roaring her heart away.”

The initial anger faded into fear. Then the news had returned. Your Maester read the report. Dragon against dragon, blood to blood, they would call the failed union the ‘Green Wedding.’ Crown Princess Rhaenyra, Prince Daemon, all children dead but her toddling boy and blonde babes on Dragonstone

King Viserys had died the night before. Otto Hightower took matters into his own hands. Some would say it was well executed but not thought out. Princess Helaena had perished, the Blood Wyrm Caraxes attacking her in a fury before she could make it to her own dragon.

Prince Aemond and Aegon had taken to scorching Rhaenyra’s tent and all of her accompanying vassals. Harrenhal was lit aflame again— the Strongs burning up in a sea of smoke. The rest of the Hightowers had been haphazardly thrown into a wheelhouse, Queen Alicent purportedly retching and sobbing, crying for her daughter and late husband. They lay in boxes behind the cart. She had the young Daeron only for comfort.

Your mouth twisted up at the retelling of the scene of kin slaying and wretchedness. Your family had no love for the Blacks but for the Greens to so vilely destroy their own flesh and blood? You idly wondered about all of those dragons without riders. What Corlys and Rhaenys would do? She was fierce yet only had the young Baela and Rhaena.

Tyland had written to stay put, the Westerlands swore to the new King Aegon. War broke out as expected. The dragons saw an end to the strife rather quickly due to the help of Targaryen bastards mounting the riderless beasts. The realm was back under the control of the inept and horrid King Aegon the Second. They called it the half-year’s war. People spoke in hushed tones even at Casterly Rock.

Accursed family, we’re all doomed.

Otto Hightower should be sent to the wall— alas, then we’d have an idiot as a king.

Is the King going to marry soon?

You personally hoped he would marry soon. Jason had requested a portrait of you. There was no hidden reason why— he wanted lion’s blood on the already drenched Iron Throne. Your own father was staunch against that, writing that he had received a proposal from the Reynes of Castamere. You had smiled at that, their heir Ser Lynden was particularly handsome and kind. They had the riches to keep your lifestyle the same.

Not like the Targaryen’s didn’t. King Aegon could maybe see for a Dayne girl with their ashen hair and purple eyes. Or a Celtigar, they still had Valyrian blood. Mayhaps import one from Old Volantis— they claimed strong ancestry.

Alas. The raven came, your father’s anger poorly concealed.

“Even after all of my duties and help to the crown, asking for the Hand to keep my only daughter out of this, you are requested to be shown before the king along with the other highborn ladies of the Realm. I thought about setting my fool brother’s portrait on fire. Regardless, it shall be good to see my young lioness. I will be there every step of the way. Be kind.”

Your stomach sank to your toes before rising back up with anger. If that kinslaying mongrel deviant whore thought for a second he would enjoy your company? He would be sorely mistaken. Dragons may have claws, but so do lions and they are long and sharp. Huffing in anger, you stormed away from the letter.

The trip to the Red Keep was abysmal. It rained the entire way, you had to stop at Deep Den for a night to let the rains up. Their stony, cold castle was damp and you barely slept a wink. You awoke to ride to the Gold Road until the city walls and the Red Keep towered in the distance. You awed at the Dragonpit and the great Sept and it’s crystals.

Regardless of the magnificent buildings, the stench of the city was vile, air putrid with rotting fish and dung heaps. Nasty little peasants ogled your gold and red wheelhouse. Your frown deepened, anger boiling your blood. There was no way one could enjoy living here, fight to be here! King's Landing was a pile of shit with a Castle on top.

You were warmly welcomed by your father, a maid holding your dress aloft so the golden filigree wouldn’t get all mucky. Tyland hugged you and exhaustion fell over your body. You missed him dearly, the singular parent. Although your grandmother was very dear, she too had passed not too long ago.

Heads were still on pikes behind you. The smell of rot was stronger in the courtyard. You said in a miserable warble, “I detest it already, please dress me up ugly, maim me.” The fool Jason patted your back and laughed, “Ah, I missed your acrid tongue. King’s Landing is an acquired taste. Your quarters are facing the Blackwater so you can get some fresh air.”

“Others take you and that damn portrait,” you hissed at your nuncle.

Tyland led you quietly into the huge keep, prying eyes from all around. No pale-haired Targaryens to be seen. You could hear them whisper about the gold of your hair, the wealth oozing from the gown. Yes, like any of you have seen true class since the Conciliator Passed.

Once in the room you snapped at a servant to pour wine, sipping while other’s shuffled in and out to bring your trunks of goods. Tyland even spoke up, “Careful with that dress, please, it is for tomorrow.” You spat, “Tomorrow?”

He held a finger up, exhaustion lacing his face. Swirling the wine around you watched the bay and waited until it was just the two of you in a comfortable silence. Tyland had taught you that— know without speaking, listen when to listen. Tyland looked aged as he sank into the cushioned chair. He ran a hand over his face and sighed, “I thought the Dowager queen would have my back. Her son is much more willful than we thought. Otto wants our coin.”

“Borrow it from a bank and maybe they’ll root these vipers away,” you whispered under a covered hand. You’d been informed of the spies all about under Larys Strong. Tyland hummed a laugh, beckoning you over. Crawling into his lap, you felt as if you were a child again, emotions welling. You began to weep softly.

He rubbed your heaving back and shushed your cries. You hiccuped, “I-If he-he-he ch-chooses me!” Tyland sighed and finished in a quiet murmur, “You will show him that a lion is nothing to play with. King Aegon may be a pandering fool but he is easily swayed. Most of us think he has eyes for the Tyrell cousin.”

“Good,” you heaved. You cried in your father's arms until he put you to sleep at some point, kissing your forehead. Sleep was restless and pointless, you managed to gather some hours before the maidservants came to dress you.

They bathed, scrubbed, and used imported Westerland items. The smell made you homesick. They braided and twisted your hair, pinning a red and gold piece on top. The dress was just as proud— gold, rubies, pearls decorating the sleeves and neckline. Myrish lace was up to your chin, secured by a choker of more exquisite jewels and peridot to bring out your eyes. It cuffed at your wrists too. Maybe it would be too much for the weak-willed king.

The choker represented who you would always belong to— House Lannister, the sigil in solid gold and red enamel. A larger version cinched your waist. He could take the maiden with her tits corseted to her chin. The king merely needed a broodmare. A lingering voice tutted, “He may find holes where he pleases, but the king needs a queen.”

The door opened, Tyland extended an arm, lips in a tight line. He knew what you looked like. A queen.

The hall was full of highborn Ladies as you entered, you instantly recognized most of the sigils and house colors. King Aegon sat on the monstrous throne lazily, sipping wine while Otto ordered around women. A girl in the colors of Rosby didn’t even make a step up before he said, “No chin, next,” he looked down at Otto, “I’ll never believe a portrait. The Lannister girl probably looks like Jason with teats.”

Anger bubbled in your chest at his flippant demeanor and comments. The queen sat next to Otto, chiding Aegon. Thankfully you had a while in line. A while to get rightfully furious with this brat of a king! You had met squires with more dignity than he!

As you neared the imposing throne, you gauged the King’s looks. Definitely Valyrian with his pretty white waves and big violet eyes— hazy with drink and boredom. He was not of a warrior’s build, much to your chagrin. Aegon had shapely thighs but the rest seemed to be softened from his infamous gluttony.

Aegon yawned and pointed, “Redwyne? Not bad, Cole, go put her in the ‘perhaps’ section. Green eyes moved to the score of ladies looking fearful over toward the side. How crass. You could cut his cock off. So embroiled in coming up with torture scenes you blinked suddenly at the boom.

“Lady Lannister of Casterly Rock, daughter of Tyland. Aged 19.”

You stepped forward and kept your chin high, holding Aegon’s gaze intently, lips stiff. The king perked up, moving forward to get a look. He laughed, “Your father is on my council and you don’t pay obeisance?” With a grimace, you gave a weak curtsy to the young King.

Jason looked wide eyed from the side, mouthing, “PLAY NICE!”

Aegon hummed, standing up to walk down the throne, crowds gasping. As he drew closer you noticed the burns going down his cheek to curl below his collar. His violet eyes swam with something, a ringed finger tapping your tilted chin. He rasped, “A lioness for sure. Just overjoyed to get yanked from your golden castle. Is that why you out-dressed the entire kingdom?”

“I had to make sure you knew who I would always be, my liege,” you hissed, “Dragons can be tamed.”

“So can lions,” he quipped back, full lips splitting into a grin. He curled burned fingers into the lace guarding your neck. Aegon cooed, “I do wonder what you’ve got hiding under here. I’m guessing you have some nice teats. That’s my favorite game at the brothels.”

“You’re a vile little kinslaying creature.”

Otto and Alicent seemed to panic before Aegon laughed— a shrieking giggle. He stepped back up onto the dais and cheered, “I have chosen! The Lioness shall be mine blushing bride. Cheers!”

There was the sound of more defeated ladies but their fathers were likely inwardly cheering. Tyland looked ghastly grim, nuncle coming to peel him away. You refused to face the crowds, stepping over to the queen and the hand, fully curtsying. The queen grasped your palms and pled, “Please, guide him the best you can. I see a strength in you I haven’t seen since…,” she looked off and grew drawn. Lord Otto smiled, “More Lannister’s the merrier. Maybe Tyland can lighten his load.”

Aegon asked, “Alright, so when do we begin planning?”

You huffed and went to your father, hot tears soaking your cheeks. You misjudged. You thought he would be repulsed by a powerful woman. Instead he plucked you right up and now held you in this cage for a home.

‘A caged lion is still a lion, yes, yes’, you thought.

Tyland stated with a fury you had never seen before, “You will make that spoilt dragon break and bend.”

“Of course father.”

Aegon whined from between your feet, a dainty gold chain clasping his wrists, connected up to a gold collar engraved with rubies. This king you once hated belonged to you- heart and soul. He’d do anything, but you just preferred him to listen and be your pretty fuck toy. You felt love for him, differently, still love.

You wore a lace shift, the fabric barely covering anything, full tits and the gold curls of your cunt showing through. Aegon made to lave at your knee, getting slapped off. The blonde mewled, “Whyyyyy? I’ve been good?” Toeing his flushed cock, the pathetic thing whimpered and his prick oozed on the marble. You asked, “Tell me why you’re in trouble, My King?”

He swallowed around the collar, doe eyes watery and lashes clumped. Aegon’s cheeks turned red and he barked, “I’m the fucking king, I can say what I like!” You picked up the oak paddle and slapped his soft pooch of a belly, Aegon whining and writhing— the freak spurting more cum, hunching over and wheezing at the pain to his tender tummy.

“If you aren’t going to be my special boy, then I’ll just let you sit here and think about your actions.”

“No! No, I’ll be your special boy. I should not have japed at that squire over dinner.”

You cocked your head and leaned closer, “Why is that hm?”

Aegon sobbed sharply, pouty lips blubbering, “Be-be-because Iburnedhisfamilyscastleafterkinslaying.” You smiled and patted his unruly waves, smiling, “Good boy. The Seven may give you a chance. Probably not because you set your sister and uncle aflame, then proceeded to burn half the kingdom. You should be at the Wall with other war criminals.”

He nodded and cried, spreading his creamy thighs out for you. It was vastly amazing how much Aegon loved to be degraded yet praised. Your special boy. Sliding down the chair you perched on the king’s thighs, cradling his head with your sharp nails. You cooed, “Just needed a guiding hand, look how the kingdom has blossomed since you became my special boy? So pathetic and hopeless. My pretty little baby needs his queen."

He whined, arching into your touch, begging for a kiss. You relented, letting the needy little thing lap and press fervently to your own. He drooled, you wiping it away and taking over the lip lock. Nibbling gently at bitten lips, lapping into a tongue that tasted like sweetened wine. Aegon relaxed into your embrace, leaking all over your thin gown.

He began to rut and rut against your cunt, whining into your kisses. You indulged him until he was swelling and stuttering, backing off and fitting the gold ring around his cock. Aegon wailed and fell back pathetically, the ruined orgasm fucking up his senses.

“Noooo, no, no, I apologized!,” he protested meekly.

Shaking your head you shrugged, “I decide when you are absolved, not a thought in that pretty blonde head. Above men, we are gods, pfft.” He grumbled and squirmed, digging his toes down in frustration.

You returned to play with him, massaging his soft belly while suckling on the tip of his purpling prick, fingers rudely shoved up behind his heavy balls. Aegon moaned and shook, calling your name and begging for release. You drank down his bitter cum, leaking from the attention to his sweet spot from below.

You pulled off to thumb around the crown of his cock, cooing, “Oh you’re so gorgeous. My pathetic, soft little dragon. Feels so so good, yes?” He was practically riding your fingers, shying away from the intensity of the stimulation to his cockhead. The blonde keened, “S’good, g-gonna!” He wailed and thrashed harder, tears streaking a blotchy face. Only a thin stream leaked from his second ruined orgasm.

Aegon was babbling apologies now, promising dresses, jewelry, lands, his heart in a box if he could. It was garbled with his heavy tongue and fervent need. Gibberish really, if one didn’t see this side of their pouty king. What the wretch turned into when denied a good release— a snotty, sobbing, wonderfully broken mess.

He heaved sobs now, oversensitive to even the cool air. But his balls were full and swollen. Patting a limp thigh you asked gently, “Do you want to come now? Inside me? Your punishment is over.” Aegon sniffled, “Please my love.” You would keep the ring on for now but take it off once it didn’t seem he may blow on sight.

Aegon whined high in his chest, more tears falling as you eased onto his plump prick, extra swollen and hot. You gasped and grabbed blonde hair, praising, “Mmm- yes my darling precious boy. Filling your queen up good.”

He groaned and feebly arched, grabbing your tits and holding them as you rode his overused cock. Aegon cried and whined for a suck, you allowing him to take off the shift and shudder as plump lips enveloped your tits. He squirmed and lapped eagerly, loving to have a mouthful of your teats. Especially during that first pregnancy.

You were already close from the intensity of the punishment, swirling fingers around your button while unlatching the gold ring from behind. Aegon’s eyes flew open as he moaned vigorously, balls pumping you full immediately as he writhed around, still attached to your full chest. Your lashes fluttered at the warm feeling, cunt sucking and enjoying the heat, slick, and pressure of so much seed..

Hopefully this would take too. Another little one to dote on. Aegon was full on sobbing now, overwhelmed with emotions. You helped him to sit upright, still inside. He mewled, “S’too much.” You hugged his frame and cooed, pressing little kisses to his tender scars, “It’ll numb out, we want this to take do we not? Be good.”

“M’ still your special boy?,” he asked with reddened eyes.

Petting a full cheek you responded, “Knew whether I liked you or not, you would be. Hush now, relax, we’ll get some dinner and a warm bath my sweet. Tomorrow is a busy day.” He nodded and nuzzled between your tits like a babe. You smirked. Who knew this power could be claimed without bloodshed?

[coryosbaby]

ʟᴜᴄʀᴇᴛɪᴀ ᴍʏ ʀᴇꜰʟᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴ !

Fandom: ‘House of the Dragon’

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x sister! Reader

Synopsis: You seek solace with your brother in his chambers after a humiliating incident with Aegon.

Content warning . mild mentions of misogyny and rape, canon-typical incest, nsfw. 18+, MDNI

Your body shakes as you wander the empty halls of the Targaryen castle desperately. Tears stream down your cheeks, your face on fire, as you make your way to your brother Aemond’s chambers.

Thankfully, the guards to his room have been dismissed and so have the servant girls. Your fists rap against the door, once, twice.

When Aemond opens the door, you fall into him.

Your arms wrap around him, your teary eyes burying into his chest. He tenses against your hold, confused, but after a moment his hands rest on your waist and he pulls you into his room. Closing the door behind him, he guides you over to the thick armchair sitting in front of his desk. Your ripped skirts trail across the stoned floor, your eyes red and puffy. Aemond gently pushes you down onto the cushions.

He’s silent, but his eyes are concerned and you hold your face in your hands. He reaches across to his desk and pulls out a handkerchief. His fingers gently grab your chin, and he wipes away your tears. You avoid his gaze as he lets out a heavy sigh.

“What has our brother done now, sweet sister?”

Your bottom lip wobbles as you try to keep from sobbing again.

“He humiliated me,” you say quietly, recalling the events from earlier. “He ripped my c-clothes in front of all of his friends. He called me a—“

You let out a choked sound, tears filling your eyes again at your husband’s cruelty.

“A what?”

“…A whore.”

Your voice cracks. Aemond’s jaw clenches, and his fingers tighten on each side of the armchair.

“Leave him to me.”

He moves to his feet, but your tiny fingers wrap around his much larger ones as you jump up to meet his towering height.

“Please, do not cause conflict with him at this hour. I beg of you.”

He looks at you through narrowed eyes. However close Aemond and his brother are, it doesn’t compare to your shared bond with him. Any ounce of disrespect aimed towards you may as well be directed at Aemond himself.

“Aegon needs to be held accountable,” he says sternly. His hands rest on your waist, and they’re soft. Not angry or violent like his raging thoughts at the given moment. He will always be gentle with you. “I’m sick of his antics. You are not some— some prize. You are the princess. You are to be respected.“

“Aemond,” you cry, your fingers gripping his forearms. “Please. Another night. Not now.”

He wants to ram a sword into his brother’s head delectably slow. But he mustn’t utter those words to you. Instead, he tries his best to stay calm and focus on your current state instead. Your dress— a purple thing with lace at the sleeves— is torn to shreds. Aemond takes note that this is your favorite dress. He will go to the seamstress tomorrow to have it remade from completely new fabrics, and then he will wring his brother’s neck with the old ones.

But for now, with you, he will be soft, gentle— he knows you like him best this way.

His thumb brushes against your neck, and he mumbles softly.

“You left your night dress in your chambers, sweetling.”

Heat flares in your cheeks at your brother’s nickname for you, one that he has called you since you were both teenagers. You chew on the inside of your cheek.

“I know.”

“I can have someone fetch them for you, if you’d like.”

“That’s alright,” you assure, rubbing soft circles into his wrist. “I would.. would it be okay, if I —“

“Borrowed something of mine?”

You nod, embarrassed, although you’ve slept in Aemond’s clothes many times. Being wrapped up in things of his makes you feel comforted, protected. Safe.

I would let all of these men fuck you if they decided it.

It was something Aegon had uttered drunkenly into your ear as he presented you to his friends, blatantly humiliating you. You swallow down the bile rising in your throat at the thought. How could one be so cruel? How could one treat their sister, their wife, as if she was some object? Some whore?

You shake the thoughts out of your head when Aemond takes hold of your hand and pulls you towards his bed. You don’t take a seat just yet, watching as Aemond disappears for a moment only to reappear with a cream colored sleep shirt in his hands.

“Let’s get you out of this, shall we?”

You nod to him, blushing, and his fingers nimbly slide against your back as he turns you around. He begins to unlace the corset back of your dress, sliding the fabric off of your shoulders and down to the floor. Next comes your underthings— cushion-ey soft fingers trail down your spine as all of it drops off of you, and you’re on fire.

You’ve been naked around Aemond before— this is no different from other times. He’s your your best friend— your big brother, after all, and sleepovers are not new. But regardless, you still quiver with nerves and something else you can’t quite place.

After this, Aemond grasps the sleep shirt and slides it over your head. It drops down to your knees, and his large hands pull your hair out from underneath the neckline.

“There,” he murmurs. “All better.”

You turn around to face him, and for the first time tonight your face twitches into a small, happy smile. Aemond presses a kiss to your head.

“Sleep, little one.”

You slide underneath the covers, piling underneath Aemond’s large comforter. He begins to unbutton his shirt, pulling it off of his shoulders and unbuttoning his pants. Next comes his eye patch— his uttermost insecurity that he feels no shame for when he’s with you and you only. He slips it off and places it on the nightstand. He slides in next to you, clad in his undergarments. He presses into your side and wraps a strong arm around your stomach. You sigh, relaxing and basking in the man’s warmth. Tiredness takes over you, and Aemond presses a kiss to your neck. It’s so utterly soft, his lips pillowy and plump. Your lashes flutter.

“Aemond,” you breathe. “Avy jorrāaelan, lēkia.”

(I love you, brother.)

He pauses, breathing heavily against you. He doesn’t say it back, but he doesn’t have to. You already know that he loves you, too.

Your drowsy body moves of its own accord, and you turn over to face him.

You admire him in the low candlelight. His perfectly tousled hair, the curve of his cheekbones, the turquoise jewel in replacement of his eye. You wonder how different it would’ve been if he had been your betrothed.

Your lips press against his, soft and passionate. It’s the first kiss you’ve ever shared with each other, and Aemond sighs against your lips, finally giving in to your sweetness. His hand finds purchase on your hip, and yours move to his hair. He doesn’t let anyone touch his hair but you.

Shy touches soon give way to the exploration of the each other’s bodies. Your hand trails across his chest, down past his navel. You don’t touch him there— not yet, though the bulge in his underwear makes it incredibly tempting. His fingers travel across your collarbone and skim over your breasts. When you pull away from him, your face is incredibly hot.

“I need you.” you say to him, doe eyes staring up at him. Aemond holds back with a heaving chest and a form of self taught control. He almost gasps for breath as he grips your waist.

“Tell me again.”

It comes out a lot more demanding than expected. He growls it, needy and desperate. You whine, your cunt aching.

“I need you,” you say. “Take me. I am yours.”

He can’t deny you this request. He lifts your leg, places it over his own so your back is pressed against his and you’re still spread out for him. He lifts your his night shirt, exposing your cunt that he had left unclothed. His fingers slide against your swollen clit, making you mewl and clench desperately for him. He rubs slow, deliberate circles, getting you perfectly slick and pliant for his cock. When he’s pleased with how wet you are, he pulls out his thick length. He presses his cockhead against your folds, groaning at the wet heat of you.

“Seven…” He sighs, and can’t help but press into your hole, his cock dribbling precum as he makes his way inside your gummy walls. “Such iā ȳrda, needy riñītsos”

(Such a tight, needy little girl.)

Your mouth drops open, emmiting angelic whimpers and moans as he fills you. He starts slow, deep, moving his hips at a steady pace, savoring the feeling of your hole sucking him in. His balls hit your ass, heavy and filled to the brim with cum that he’s oh so desperate to fuck into you. Your tiny fingers curl against his hip, forcing him to stay inside, to keep you safe and sane. He grunts into your ear, feeds you delicious affections and promises.

“You have such a perfect cunny, sweet sister,” he praises hotly. “You mustn’t worry anymore. I’m going to take care of you,” and then, with a gasp emitting out of him, “You are my light, my darling girl.”

You can’t say anything, only arch against his gentle thrusts and grind against him with affection in your heart. He holds you like you’re made of glass, and he fucks you just the same.

It isn’t long before his fingers find your pearl again, drawing a sob out of you as your orgasm unfurls. It’s strong, nothing like the weak, untouched ones you get from Aegon. No, this is powerful— white hot heat curls up in your tummy, spreads down to your toes, and your ears ring with the force. The sound of you coming undone is what has Aemond reaching his peak thereafter. His hips stutter, his balls draw up tight, and he spills inside you with a loud moan. He rides out his high with your name tumbling from his lips like an adulterated prayer.

When he stills, he makes no move to pull out of you. He lays, breathes against your skin, his platinum blonde locks spilling over your shoulder. Your hand finds his, post orgasm haze taking over your psyche. After a moment, Aemond begins to speak.

“Our brother is a fool, sweet sister.” He mumbles. “He will burn eternally for what he has done to you.”

Your fucked out mind agrees. You smile, basking in the after glow of sex, of Aemond. You press yourself against him and dream of sweet nothings, of a different, familiar husband and children’s feet pattering softly against tile stone.

All the while, Aemond’s seed sits heavily inside your womb and the baby inside you begins to grow.

:: @mysticpenguincreation @nightmare-niko @iheartinkonpaper @claireyberryy @becauseseaotters @emmalandry

[hazashiovo]

HOTD men with a big chested s/o

- He would honestly try not to stare at your chest when you wear a dress that shows even the tiniest amount of cleavege.

- Aemond would try beeing respectful while you're in public,but gods, he goes FERAL when you're in your dress that has almost half your tits out for display. The prince would be staring,he would try to pay attention as you speak,he really would. It's just the sight in front of him is way to much for his prying eyes.

- Now of course, people would talk about you, about how you can be so 'indecent', he saw how you didn't care, but that didn't stop him from glaring at the said people,sending shivers down their spine. No one cares speaking I'll of you while your husband is around,unless they have a death wish.

- while you're in your private chambers, Aemond loves nothing more than laying his head on your chest, hearing your heart beat is so soothing for the white haired men, sometimes he amuses you. He loves how you run your hand trough his straight hair looks, massaging that right spot that gets him sleepy.

Now for the nsfw part 😊

- How he loves ,when you're on top, seeing your boobs move with your body as you ride him, he thinks it gets him even harder.

- He'd grope and fiddle with your nipples,pulling some sweet sounds out of your mouth.

- Occasionally, he'd take one in his mouth,while carefully paying attention to the other with his long slender fingers, twisting at your nipple while his mouth sucks ,and bites at the soft flesh. Your hands gripping at his hair as you move up and down his cock,soft moans leaving your lips.

- He just loves it when your all bare for him to see,to touch, to please.

- This man has no shame in whatsoever. When he sees you ,even before beeing weeded,in that dress, to tight for your chest,boobs almost spilling out...well he's a dead man. You can have the most serious conversation with him,but his eyes would not look away from your chest. He doesn't even try to.

- You're lucky if he's in a good mood,cause lord, he sometimes can't resist the urges,and grabs your titty,in public. You can just hope no one saw this happen, cause your face is already red. And that shit eating grin that adorns his face once he did it,you just can't wait to scold him once you're all alone. Little do you know,it turns him on to see you scolding him,that serious expression on your face,tho of course he doesn't look at your face ,no ,his eyes are on your chest ,that happens to be right in front of him.

- He'd hear some men talk,when they believe he's not around. They would say inappropriate things about you, slut shame you,and oh boy. If you didn't know Daemon you'd think he was exaggerating,but the damage those men endured,well they sure will know to keep their tongue the next time(if they get to keep one).

- The prince could care less if someone else than him was staring,cause at the end of the day,he's the one who gets to fuck you,and noone else.

*NSFW

- Now when we're getting to the good part? Oh boy. He loves fucking you from behind ,one hand on your waist keeping you tightly as he pushes in and out of you, making you a moaning mess all for him. The other hand playing with your nipple, rubbing it and pinching it, drawing little squeals from you. The bastard smirks, satisfied with the way he makes you moan out his name in pleasure.

- Oh how he loves making you feel good, the way your nipples perk up in his touch,it's just makes him push harder and faster into you,hitting all the right places.

- Now this man? He's OBSESSED with your chest.

- The moment you enter the ballroom,not even wearing a dress with that much cleavage,and he's feral for you. Just the shape and the way the dress clings tightly into your body drives him mad.

- He's the type of guy who would grope your chest in public,he'd even smirk after it. You'd slap his head anoyed,but stil,a blushing mess.

- Aegon would thirst over you so bad,he wouldn't even be able to take his eyes of you if you wore a dress that revealed even the tiniest amount of cleavege. And his mommy issues? They're on a diff level when your boobs are in game. Most of the time when the two of you are also,you wouldn't be able to get up, because our dear Aegon would hug your waist tightly,and lay his head on your chest. His sleeping form would sooth you, knowing he's so comfortable around you to be vulnerable. Your hands would pet his head gently, twirling at some little curls of his,while smiling.

*NSFW

- Just like his brother,he loves having you ride him,but the only difference is how his moans would spill from his mouth,that suck at your nipples greedily. Aegon would squeeze your ass,while the other would just grip your waist as you ride him, chasing your release.

- He'd leave hickeys on your tits ,then smile at his work. He would sometimes even bite them.

- Even so,he'd never degrade you,he knows you'd scold him and won't allow him to cum if he won't behave nicely.

- Even so, you're the best he'd ever have.

- This dude would try to act like your whole body belongs to him(it Lowkey does).

- He'd make you wear as less clothing around your chest area as possible. After all Viserys gets off on your embarrassed expression.

- He loves making you feel as exposed and vulnerable.

- It's Canon that he has a superiority complex,so he would always make you do things that would result in you bending down for him, ordering you to clean his body,to get in the tub with him,just to see your exposed body.Just to feel in charge of you.

- The man would never admit he likes you for more than your body. To proud of himself to actually show emotions. So he just gifts you things, without any explanation you just wake up the next day with some jewelry on your bad.

- But when you would forcefully put his head on your chest, ordering him to relax for once...he just can't say no. The prince would just pout and remain the way you forced(he loves it) to stay.

*NSFW

- Sometimes Viserys would fuck you doggy style,just so he could squeeze your boobs while plunging into you. Your body will take each thrust, yearning for more,eyes squeezing so tight,face digging into the pillow, just heaven.

- He'd have you on missionary, watching your expression but also the way your boobs would move in rhythm with his thrust. The sounds escaping your mouth would be like honey for his ears. He'd grab your tits and squeeze them, something even fantasizing about fucking them.

.

.

.

Sooo, by the ending had a few drinks,I wrote the last parts drunk .

Aniways hope u enjoy,and yes I did sneak in Viserys. He's just to fine😭

[amisa-k]

thank you for your idea! i managed to write about aegon so much that i decided to give a separate part for each character. i have ideas for daemon, aemond and rhaenyra. if there are many interested, i will try to come up with something for jacaerys.

!edging, degrading, dirty talk!

aegon acts like a whore all day.

he looks into your eyes and licks his lips specially slowly, jokes even more lustfully and ambiguously than usual, and the peak is how he presses himself to you from behind while no one sees. you feel his hot breath on your neck and hard arousal on your lower back and let him rub against you, but after a few seconds you leave, keeping your stone face. you can't be caught in public. he knows exactly what he is doing and knows exactly what he will get for it. therefore, if he acts like a whore, you will treat him like a whore.

as soon as his bedroom door closes behind you, you impatiently push him onto the bed. he falls on his back and looks at you hungrily, lustfully and with a faint fear.

- what was it today? - your voice is firm and low and it gives him goosebumps.

- i…

he can't get his thoughts together, he wanted you all day and now you're in his bedroom, he's on the bed and you're standing over him and that's enough to make it hard for him to formulate his thoughts.

you grab his chin making him look you

from above and aegon licks his dry lips trying to say something again. you don't let him do that.

- pathetic. - your sharp voice makes him flinch but your thumb gently traces the outline of his lips.

he can't look away from your eyes, his pupils are dilated, and his breathing is shallow. he swallows hard as you sit on his lap and force him down onto the pillows. your hands caress his neck, shoulders, chest and eventually find their way under his shirt. aegon inhales sharply, but the sound is more like a sob. your hands caress his soft stomach that tensed under your touch, his ribs and squeeze his chest, tearing a moan from his lips. you lean into him and whisper in his ear.

- you moan like a whore.

you run your hot tongue down his neck and he tilts his head back to give you better access. you kiss, bite, leave marks, and all he can do is breathe hard and moan helplessly under you. now your hands move down his stomach and slip under his pants, stroking his arousal. the next moment you unexpectedly squeeze his member, and you hear a sob in response.

- is that what you wanted? for me to touch you?

aegon answers you with a brief sharp nod.

- do you want me to fuck you so that your knees tremble? - you stroke his length with your thumb.

- y-yes... - this answer is all he can squeeze out of himself now.

you get off his hips and sit on the side next to him on the bed to make it more comfortable. pulling down his pants and underwear to reveal his hard cock, the glans of which is glistening with lube. you are in no hurry to touch him and it drives him crazy.

- please.

you smile slightly in satisfaction, wrapping your arms around his member and slowly start moving your hand up and down. aegon's hands clutch the sheets and he doesn’t hold back lewd moans. when it looks like he's close to release, you remove your hand from his cock and he looks at you with puppy dog ​​eyes filled with disappointment.

- don't stop, i beg you.

you circle his glans with your thumb and start to slowly touch him again. aegon breathes harder and harder, his hands grip the sheets tighter and he doesn't even try to stifle moans and sobs. you see how tears gather in his eyes and you decide not to torment him anymore, but to give relief.

his seed spills into your hand and onto his stomach, marring his shirt, but he doesn't care at all. aegon breathes heavily, his fingers finally let go of the sheets and he looks at you with satisfaction. you know that he doesn’t regret his behavior at all and will provoke you again.

[hxmocrastic]

Yandere!Aegon I x M!Reader + NSFW HCs

— pairings ; Yandere!Aegon I x Male!Reader

— a/n ; There's barely any M!Reader fics in ASOIAF Tags so I wanted to make my own ! (And bc I was curious 🤭)

— warnings ; NSFW ; 18+ TWT Links ; Coercion ; Dark Elements ; Yandere Behavior; Hinted Homophobia ; Affair ;

You're a Lannister boy, The youngest of your four brothers and considered the weakest because of your stature, frame, and meek personality. Your father —Loren I Lannister— has always looked down upon you, He shunned and spurned you relentlessly even claiming that you weren't a Lion but a insolent rat. You're brothers were worst, Like your father they maligned you any chance they got hindering your self esteem to a crippled sheet of parchment. Though despite their belittlement, You were determined to prove yourself.

You caught Aegon's Attention when you attended a Tourney, Adorned in Red & Gold Armor representing your house colors. You were up against Ser Dayken Tyrell, A formidable knight but viscous as well. You fell from your horse more times than you could count surely making a mockery of house Lannister. Tyrell came charging at you atop his white stallion until his grace, King Aegon abruptly halted the knight ceasing the tournament.

Aegon took an interest in you and started to unintentionally eye you in the courtyards, Though very discreetly. His stare would linger as you bowed and sulked past him. He began wondering why you always held that glassy look in your eyes.

After watching you for long enough he decides to make you his cupbearer, Deeming you unfit for tourneys. Truly he just wanted to get closer to you. To know you.

During this time the both of you became close with one another, You vented to him about your problems and he'd listen. With his permission of course, It was almost impossible to get this information out of you.

A year passes and Aegon feels something stir within him, The Dark desires he tried to keep down boiling to the surface.

His behavior started to...shift within the last couple of months. He grew overwhelmingly possessive of you, You could barely pour another lords wine without his violet eyes burning holes into your form. You couldn't even go out and speak with your friends without him requesting your presence. Seriously you couldn't even eat by yourself !! And the worst part is you couldn't question him about it either...

It was only a matter of time before His sister-wives started to grow suspicious. I mean who could blame them, He spent more time with you than he did with rhaenys which said something.

Anytime they'd bring this to light to him, Aegon would just chuckle and reassure them that you were a mere servant— a cupbearer at that, And he would never have any relations with you.

Oh boy was he wrong. He'd sabotage and oppose any & all of your marriage proposals. Even going as far as having one of your bride-to-be's killed in her sleep. But for some reason, Even after all the marriage annulments they'd always end up missing.

This put a far greater stain on your reputation, on your house. There was rumors that you were cursed and you started to believe them yourself. But Aegon with that stupidly handsome smile on his face placed your sobbing form in his lap and cooed into your ear with sweet nothings. You couldn't see the twisted grin on his face.

Aegon would pull you from his chest to stare into your (E/C) eyes as he'd persuade you into Bed with him. You stared at the man in shock, mouth agape with no words spewing. You tried to reject him but he'd subtly threatened the Livelihood of your brothers and father, Cornering you. You had no other choice...

— 𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 18+

✪ The Faith already had issues with the Targaryens Incestuous polyamory but lying with another man—A Lannister at that, If they were to find out chaos would erupt. Good thing they weren't ever going to. You two had your affairs in secret, You would sneak into his chambers at a certain time and not the other way around.

✪ He's never laid with another man before, But he's willing to try for you. Though Same sex relations weren't entirely scorned upon in his childhood, They weren't praised either. Aegon figured it worked just how a Man & Woman had sex, Let's just say he's a fast learner.

✪ His pace is rough and quick almost unforgiving, He likes to use you as a stress reliever especially when he's aroused. He's quite big, Cut and pink 9'8 but his girth certainly makes up for it.

✪ Aegon can be just as possessive in sex as he is when you're speaking with your brothers. After all the hell they put you through, He dislikes having you around them so more often then not he has you face down ass up on the table with hips slapping against yours. ⭐

✪ He loves taking you on your back with your legs over his shoulders and you underneath him. It gives him a sense of dominance and control over you as if he doesn't have already. But it's also intimate and passionate, He can gaze into your eyes and witness your face contorting into different motions of pleasure. ⭐

✪ When he's feeling gentle, Best believe he will absolutely WORSHIP YOU. I'm talking Shoulder kisses, Feet Massages Etc.

✪ Even though you two were quiet in your affairs, By this point Both Rhaenys & Visenya had put two and two together and already discovered your affair. Rhaenys encouraged him and Visenya could care less.

m.masterlist

Art By @chillyravenart

[puppyxaegon]

Hi legend I saw you were taking requests and also enjoy subby Aegon; excited to see your work✨

Mayhaps a request for a blurb/hcs on Aegon getting riled up in public??? His lady just teasing and rubbing him under the table or alcove bj in the red keep. Poor baby egg can’t keep quiet either. IF YOU SO DESIRE- soft mean dom just loving every second of it. Both of them definitely about to go feral at the idea of being caught 😈😈😈

Love love LOVE this request and apologies for just now getting to it!! Very glad to be posting more subby Aegon and I promisee something more is coming soon for him I'm very excited to share it. Here's a few blurbs on these concepts for your viewing pleasure, please let me know your thoughts! Btw we have a wife reader here ofc but I'm open to writing any gender and requests are open!!

She Says

Sub!Aegon ii Targarygen x Wife!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Tags: public setting, OC, openish relationship, a little fluff I suppose? They're whores but they love each other.

Aegon is definitely a sucker for public stuff, and there are few greater pleasures on earth than watching him squirm and bite his lip trying to keep quiet.

I mean, he loves what you do to him and he hates attending to his responsibilities so interrupting an uninteresting meeting or tournament with a bit of discreet fun seems like a win win.

Whenever you attend events together, you're steadfast by your husband's side, and it's something you enjoy taking advantage of.

Sometimes it starts when you're both bored or just in that particular mood or one reason or another.

Like at the jousting tourney when you'd noticed him almost nodding off, more than likely nursing a hangover from the previous night. Objectively, this was an embarrassment. The two of you sat in the very front row of the upper observation gallery behind the barrier, so although you were only visible from the chest up, anyone who glanced over could see the next in line to the throne struggling to keep his eyes open. It should have been an embarrassment, but you often found it was difficult to see Aegon's behavior as anything but endearing.

When it was time for the two of you to give your favor to one of the knights, you had to nudge him and he'd startled awake, clearing his throat and quickly taking your hand. The two of you stood to look over the edge of the balcony, where four knights sat atop their horses all in a line with their lances held high in waiting.

You could feel Aegon squeeze your hand and when you glanced up to him you noticed that he was locked in a stare with Ser Corryn, the young handsome knight who he'd first pointed out to you just about two months ago.

At another equally dull tournament, Aegon's attention had been caught on the man, and he told you offhandedly later that day how he wished so desperately that those knights weren't sworn to celibacy. You were sure to take note of that, and a few weeks later you surprised your husband with that very knight in your shared bed.

You'd run your fingers through Aegon's hair and kissed his forehead as he laid back in your lap, all while Ser Corryn fucked him senseless. As you listened to his gasps and moans while he squirmed against your body, you knew this was a gift he would truly appreciate. You'd seen him cum three times that night, and you cherished the taste of the tears you kissed away from his cheeks as he cried from the overstimulation.

Now almost two weeks later, Aegon blushed and gave a coy smile as he threw the floral wreath onto the knights lance. He looked between the two of you, smirking playfully before blowing a kiss and trotting away to begin the game.

Aegon was certainly awake now, nearly leaning out of his seat with his elbows propped up on the barrier to follow Ser Corryn with his eyes.

You placed a hand high on his thigh and squeezed, leaning in. " Be careful Egg, if you can't even meet the man's eyes without giggling like a maiden you may raise suspicions."

He shot you a look of faux irritation, rolling his eyes dramatically before sinking back into his seat again. his eyes wandered the space absently, but you noticed how his knees fell open a bit wider as he relaxed into the chair, granting you access.

You continued rubbing small circles into his inner thigh, pretending not to notice how he tried to suppress the twitch of his mouth as he shifted in his seat to and his breath began to hitch in his throat.

You kept your eyes forward as you ever so slowly slid your hand the rest of the way up his leg, over his stomach and down the front of his trousers and finally wrapped your flingers around his leaking cock.

Out of the corner of your eye, could see his jaw tense as he clenched his hands around the arms of this chair, nails digging in.

Poor baby, that probably hurt :(

It's a wonder that the crowd was so lively, otherwise someone would surely have heard Aegon's poorly concealed whimpers and moans.

You'd managed to string him along for the entire remaining length of the match, which had to be close to an hour. By the end, you watched him bite the inside of his cheek as he bucked his hips up into your hand and made a mess beneath the layers of clothing that concealed the two of you.

At other times, your fun was more of a tool to keep your husband in line.

You had been at a grand feast, part of some festival honoring one god or ancient hero or another. You hadn't yet gotten quite familiar the never ending fanfare and pageantry that the Westerosi clung to.

Though as the eldest son he probably should have been seated toward the middle of the long table, Aegon occupied the chair at the far left end of the setting. He always wanted a clear escape route at these things, and you of course found your space directly next to him.

This position also effectively cut him off from the rest of the table; and this combined with the heavy cloth which draped all the way to the floor made it an incredibly opportune position to stroke your husband beneath the table until he begged and whispered curses under his breath.

Aegon stared straight down at his plate, trying to keep his hands from shaking as he rolled his hips back and forth, cock rock hard and slick with sweat and precum and it slid against your hand. Suddenly you withdrew, pulling back quickly and wiping your hand discreetly on the napkin beside you.

"Be a good boy and go wait for me in the hall."

He'd looked to you with wide, disbelieving eyes. "Like this??" He hissed back, shifting in his seat and glancing down toward his lap.

You tilted your head and gave a mock sad expression, poking out your bottom lip. "Oh pity, is my boy so bashful now?" You leaned in a bit closer, assuring that he would feel your breath ghost over his ear. "You might have thought about that before contradicting me in front of your sister, love. You know how important it is that your family respects me and accepts my place here."

You could see him clench and unclench his jaw, he'd probably forgotten all about the little incident but you'd warned him about mouthing off in the company or others a hundred times. This was his punishment, and as he sighed and rubbed the crease forming between his eyebrows you could see that he understood.

"Right." You said flatly. "Now run along husband. Be careful not to embarrass yourself in front of all the guests." You ran a hand down his cheek before placing a chaste kiss there and giving him another soft smile.

He looked worried, but you could see him swallow the emotion as he reached down again to adjust himself. Just as he'd begin to push back his chair and leave the table you stopped him gently, placing a hand on his arm.

"Oh, and Aegon?" He looked to you nervously, blinking fast. "No touching until I get there."

With that you gave his arm a squeeze and turned your attention back to your wine and the chattering crowd before you. Soon enough you could see Aegon weaving his way through that crowd, eyes cast down and hands dutifully clasped in front of his body to conceal any evidence of your activities. You watched with amusement as he gradually sped up as he walked, nearly breaking into a run as he approached the door.

Not long after you saw Lady Baela break away from the crowd and approach, giving you a small bow. You'd intended to take your leave fairly quickly, not to be too hard on your boy but it looked now like he might have to be a bit more patient. "May I sit my Lady?", she asked, gesturing Aegon's empty seat, and you gave her a polite nod.

"I do hope you're enjoying the party, we're all so happy to have you at court." "Is your husband feeling well? I saw him rushing out of the room a few moments ago."

"Oh yes, he's fine just a bit tired" you lowered your voice and whispered playfully "and you know him, possibly a few too many plates of food and a few too many cups of wine". Baela giggled, nodding "Yes, to be quite honest I was a bit worried he might be sick there on the dance floor. I'm thankful you keep such a caring watch over him."

You gave her a small thank you and smile, but when she shifted slightly closer and placed a hand over your own, her face was just that more serious.

"I truly mean it, my Lady. If you don't mind my saying, my cousin was in a bad way before he had you. I'm sure you must know that, but we all saw him straying down a dark path. Now that you're here it's.." she paused, searching for the words. "He's a better man, we can leave it at that. That means something to us, our families won't forget this."

You smiled brightly and gave her hand a squeeze. "Well I'm sure you know Baela, some men just need the right lady to whip them into shape.", you remarked, winking.

That earned a heartier laugh from the silver haired woman, and you felt a glow of pride in your chest as the threw her head back and swatted at your arm.

You joined her in idle gossip for a bit longer before deciding it was time to go attend to your prince.

"If you don't mind my Lady, I think I'll go and check in on him now."

When you escaped the overwhelming chatter and footsteps which filled the ballroom, it wasn't hard to follow the echoed heavy breathing that travelled through the silent stone halls.

You made sure your footsteps clicked slowly and loudly against the floor as you approached, and you couldn't say you were surprised to find him tucked into a windowsill, eyes closed and mouth hanging open as he rubbed at the bulge in the front of his trousers. He always was a glutton for punishment

"Oh dear Aegon..." you pouted crossing your arms and shaking your head slowly. "It looks like someone still hasn't learned to follow instructions as they're given. What will we do now?"

[lynnbeth5172]

| don't wanna have self-control

I would rather feel something new than not feel at all

I don't think that I could recall

Was I always this tired? Has my high expired?

Aegon ii Targaryen as HEDON by Sub Urban

[atopvisenyashill]

been trying to write my feelings out about how dany & robb play very similar roles as rulers (children who have really good intentions who choose the path of violent interventionism only to realize far too late that violence comes with its own set of consequences that they are not equipped to handle) because the more i read the more you can see that the oft insulted concept of the “pov trap” (and by insulted i mean insulted by non jonsas who tend to think any use of the concept means they’re Morally Wrong for feeling empathy when…buddy the point is you’re meant to feel empathy for them, no one is telling you that you’re a bad person it is completely your side projecting) is used for BOTH of them and the trap starts at roughly the same time. i wanted it to be vague enough that the valyrianscrolls people wouldn’t get mad if i put it in the tag but i might just go “fuck it” haha

[bucknastysbabe]

Please make a part two of slutty camboy aegon!!! It was so good!!!!!

♡ 5, 6, 7, 8 call me whore it feels great! ♡

Camboy!Aegon II x Reader

Ratings: Explicit

Tags: Big ole sub!Aegon, dom!reader, kinda aftercare, subspace, cock rings/plugs/strap-ons oh my!, camboy!aegon, sex tape, cumming untouched, ass play, teasing, oral fixations, prostate milking, Aegon��s a drooling mess, PWP, Aem is nawt happy getting his research partner yeeted by the creacher

A/N: IT WAS TIME I WANTED MAN TEARS

@lovelykhaleesiii @ilikeitbetterangsty @fairysluna @godrakin @connorsui @fan-goddess @teamaemond

Aemond was still your research partner…somehow. He didn’t take to the news very well that you were banging his idiot brother, looking very pale when you informed him of the new relationship. Now it was just a snide comment here and there and he’d cough and turn the TV up if you entered with Aegon.

Which was understandable because about seventy five percent of the time Aegon was getting off with you in some form. He was the neediest thing— whining for a handjob even in the most mundane circumstances. But he fucked reallll good, like he promised over the live stream in what felt like years ago now.

You refused to be in a live stream but would participate in Aeg’s onlyfans bullshit. You could hide your identity better that way. As a plus, Aegon would usually let you pick whatever you wanted him to do for the content. He was a little fucking masochist like that. Because every time you called the shots it usually ended up with him slobbering and sobbing, begging for relief, looking so pretty for the camera.

You needed to start the video now, having been caught in your thoughts. Aegon was whimpering on the bed, shifting needily. His hands were bound, lurid neon cock ring snug at the base. You had an inflatable plug in his ass, he was already panting softly even though you hadn’t touched it. The harness and strap was already secured to your hips, pretty shade of pink just like Aegon loved.

“You ready slut?,” you asked promptly.

He licked his pouty lips, breathing, “Yes!”

With a click you began recording, focusing on him while you crawled on the bed toward the pretty boy. You shoved two fingers into his lax mouth, Aegon immediately sucking with a moan, you commenting, “God, he’s always so needy for something in his mouth. Don’t worry, you’ll get it soon sweetheart.”

He whimpered around your fingers, violet eyes rolling around at thought of the strap down his achingly empty throat. Aegon let out a little ‘nooo’ when you pulled your fingers free to wipe them messily across his lips. You moved the camera down to the strap and moved it to slap at matching pink lips.

“Haven’t met someone with a bigger oral fixation yet, any challengers for my cute slut?”

Aegon shifted again, wide eyes peering up, almost looking innocent.

“Go on, get it wet, maybe I’ll do something with this thing,” you grabbed the pump connected to the plug, teasingly squeezing a bit. Aegon fought to get at the cock, whining at being unable to use his hands. Laughing at the pathetic attempt you guided into his mouth.

Aegon’s hazy eyes gazed up at the camera as he expertly sucked it off, moaning around the strap. You gave the new toy a couple of experimental squeezes, rambling to the invisible audience, “Some fan of his sent this. Apparently it can go up to five inches around?” The blonde whimpered, pupils blowing at the idea.

“God, you’re such a whore! I would say your fans know you well but…we know you like anything and everything.”

Dropping the pump you smacked at his cheek cooing, “Dont’chu?”

He nodded eagerly, thighs flexing and squeezing below, flushed cock leaking against his soft stomach. You combed a hand through his pale hair and tugged gently, making white lashes flutter. You picked up the pump again, inflating it further, Aegon making a pitchy noise around the dildo. Drool dripped down his chin.

“Oh, well when you look so pretty.”

He could take it. Aegon would tap out if it was too much. You inflated the thing with slow pumps, making sure the blonde could feel the stretch. He gasped and choked again, whimpering and shaking. You asked him none too sweetly, “Is that enough for your greedy ass? You want more huh?”

Aegon popped off the strap with a cry, spreading his pretty pale legs to fuck down into the plug. His eyes were wide and watery while the blonde begged, “Moremoremore oh gods I need it, wan’ it on my s-sweet spooot.” You couldn’t help but moan at the wanton display, Aegon trembling and hungrily mouthing at the cock again, begging so sweet.

You were throbbing, maybe you should just let him cry into your pussy by now. Instead you cooed, “Fine baby boy, you’ll get it.” You pumped it further until he wailed and shook, hips stilling. There was no more give, you had it fully stretching him out now. If Aegon wanted his prostate touched he had it being smothered now. Back to the audience.

“Ohhh, there it is, he’s all full now. Can’t even hump anymore— poor baby’s stuffed.”

Aegon’s eyes openly were leaking tears now, whining over and over helplessly. You almost felt bad for the thing, sniveling and drooling. Guiding the dildo back into his mouth with a soft moan Aegon swallowed it down as if he was driven to be full as possible now. “C’mon Aeg, swallow it down baby, you can do it.”

You watched him try to move around the impossibly inflated plug, wailing around the strap. Sweat beaded on his quivering muscles, flushed and perfect all around. His cock looked purple now— so filled up with no relief. Aegon’s eyes fluttered as he breathed through a delicate nose, easing the pink dildo down stretched lips. Chattering from need you added, “Good boy, good slut, isn’t he just darling? Do whatever and he’ll whine for more.”

You grabbed blonde locks and began to fuck his throat earnestly. Aegon cried in strangled puffs, overwhelmed and teary. Sliding that hand down to his slim neck you purred, “Feels s’good don’t it? Stretched your slutty throat and ass out.” He spread his legs wider, cock beginning to leak from all the pressure on his poor prostate.

“Think y’can come like that precious whore? Right through the ring? Your balls look heavyyyy.”

He slid of the cock and cried, nose and eyes running, lips drooling and obscenely swollen. Aegon was a wreck now, pushed to that extreme from all the pleasure. Your boy toy outright sobbed, “Pluh-easeeee, babyyyy, g-g-gunna pop, it hurts!” You thumbed around swollen lips and caressed his full cheek, cooing.

“Oh Aeg, you achy? What do you need? Y’know how to use words.”

He fell forward between your breasts, utterly debauched. Too quiet for the camera you murmured, “C’mon baby, what’cha need sweetheart?” Gently propping the mess of man back up you ordered Aegon to lay on his back. Now the camera could catch the show of quivering ass, swollen cock, and his cute peaked nipples, flushed too.

Aegon spread milky legs instinctively, thrusting upwards and whimpering. Sliding a hand on the soft skin of his inner thigh you cooed, “You need’a cum don’t you? I think everyone can see that hm?” His chest hitched as the blonde blubbered, “Pleaseplease, m’so hard it hurts, oh my gah-hoddds, hnghhh!”

He could probably cum right now if he wanted to, shoot right through that cock ring. Just needed a little push. You skimmed your hand up his belly, willfully ignoring his hard cock, Aegon mewling in frustration. Pinching at a flushed nipple you murmured, “You keep begging but won’t tell me what you want, silly. Leave it up to me to figure out for bimbo here.”

Ignoring his cock again you toyed with the base of the huge plug in Aegon’s ass, him wetly gasping and shivering. Gently you pulled and pushed at it, your boyfriend sniffling and crying all over again. “Yeah, you like that? I know you do.” Smacking his thigh real quick you went back to fucking the toy in and out, halfway drooling over the pull on his rim.

Aegon tossed his pretty blonde head back and wailed, “Hngh, close, close!” Drool dripped down his chin, poor baby too busy carrying on to shut his damn mouth. His hands, still bound, came to rest above his head. You growled, moving harder, “C’mon then slut, come then, that ring not going to stop you, you’re full up.”

The first rope of cum came with a cut off whimper, Aeg’s full body going ramrod straight from the intensity. You moaned and grabbed his cock, pulling him off now, the flesh wet with copious pre-cum. He slung a leg around your waist, back arched painfully, practically shouting ‘ahh, haaah, ha!’.

Cum spilled all over his tender belly and your fist, slick noises enhancing the erotic display. He just kept spilling, you in awe, “Fuuuuck baby, that plug really milked you good huh?” The response was another needy cry. Aegon’s eyes were red rimmed and rolling around, tongue lolling out like the slut he was.

You didn’t stop until he was gasping and wincing, done for the play. His cock began to soften and you deflated the plug, humming, “Such a good slut, hope you all enjoyed the show. Now I gotta bring his brain online, much love!” Turning the video off you tossed the phone to the side.

Easing the plug out with a wince from Aegon you cooed, “Such a good baby, my baby boy.” He whimpered, watery violet orbs on you. “Gimme your hands Aeg,” you instructed gently. Untying those Aegon’s arms went immediately limp at his sides. Poor thing’s brain was in the weeds. Cuddling up to him you rubbed quivering limbs and nuzzled at his neck, the blonde eventually clinging to your frame, sniffling now and then.

“God, you’re too good,” he snuffled into your hair. Pinching his cute ass came the response, “Maybe you’re too easy? Do you need anything, water maybe?” Shaking his head and snuggling closer Aegon mumbled, “Nuh-uh, wanna lay here. Play with my hair, pleaseee?” With a smile you did so, absently twisting those pretty curls, the male’s eyes drooping, mouth curled into a pleasant smile.

“God he’s irritatingly loud, hurry up we need to convert the data for our project! Deviants,” Aemond angrily texted from his spot on the couch.

[lemonhemlock]

aegon accepts being hit by alicent, otto and aemond, doesn't retaliate at all when helaena inadvertently embarrasses him, even lets ser arryk manhandle him around, but when harwin drags him off jace, he howls

you don't get special violence privileges unless you're on his side in the first place

[hazashiovo]

Had it coming

Aegon x reader

(Giving him a taste of his own medicine)

Fem!Dom, Sub!Aegon, Reader not wanting children, drinking, sexual themes, and idk what else to add, forced marriage?

You never wanted this. Never wanted to be married especially to him.

You don't want to produce heirs for a man like him or be known as his wife, not even be seen in the same room. But it's all their fault , your parents didn't care about your happiness or well being, they only saw you as a pawn in their game.

Theyarriee you off to Aegon in return for an alliance with the Targaryens.

He consumed alcohol, had whores and bastards all around King's Landing, yet you were expected to be a obeying wife? Give him children he wouldn't even care about or know they're there?

No. You're gonna live the way you want.

You're gonna drink until you can't anymore, you'll talk to whoever you want and won't have more than a child. You're gonna prove him he won't have his way.

After your marriage he was drunk and unable to even know your name.

Each morning he wasn't present to breakfast,most of the time he wasn't even in the castle, you've heard he was a loyal client of street of silk.

Soon enough you slowly started drinking, some might say you were a match.

It was clear Alicent regretted marrying you off to him.

One night, Aegon drunkly stumbled upon you, and a knight in your bed.

He was furious, raging even, so it's no shock when the screaming match began, you weren't just gonna stand there and have him yell at you for the exact same thing he does.

-You're a Whore! Daring to bring another man in the bed you share with your husband!-

He shiuted at you, sluring on his words.

-You have no right to call me a Whore!how many bastards do you have?! How many whores had you fucked?!

Your scream louder than his, at that point he realised you're fiercer than he tought, it made him feel small next to you, a woman with a strong will.

-You dare yell at me for a thing you do each day! So I suggest you keep your mouth shut, instead of making more if a fool of yourself.-

You started dressing yourself up, not allowing him watch your naked body anymore. You grabbed the goblet of wine you had next to your bed and drank it down.

You passed by him when he caught your arm.

-where are you going?-

You glared at him.

-For a walk, go to sleep.-

You pulled your arm away from him and left him in the dark chambers.

The next day you were dressing up for breakfast you saw him sprawled over the bed, in a deep slumber.

-such a waste of a pretty face.-

You muttered, it was truly a shame, he could have made a fine prince.

You sighed and left the chambers.

At breakfast, Alicent brought the subject of children.

-It's been some time since the two of you married, when will you gift me some grandchildren, my dear?-

Well that pissed you of , she saw the way you and Aegon were system she had hopes for children?

-It's not a matter of when, it's a matter of "if". If I remember correctly there is no actual need of heirs for Aegon, after all, Rhanyra is the Heir of king Viserys, am I right?-

Alicents face was shocked, she didn't expect you to react that way.

-after all, I wouldn't want to have a deadbeat of a husband as father for my children... And I'm not the type to love, children.-

You continued, you weren't planing to do what everyone expected of you, you'd rather die than become a pupet, like you've heard Alicent become.

Alicent's face priceless.

After that she didn't say anything.

You finished your meal and excused yourself from the table.

Later that day you were with Aemond, you enjoyed his company. His and Helena's, but she was at dragon stone with her bethrothed, Jacaerys.

You felt good at the reply you gave Alicent.

Feeling tired and in needing of some relaxing, you called the maids to set a bath for you.

That same time Aegon stumbled, drunk, again in your chambers.

-Well look at that.-

You sighed in annoyance, yet stripped naked and sinked in the hot bathing water.

You sent the maid away, wishing to wash yourself.

You didn't like people touching you.

From across the room, you saw Aegon standing there, looking at you, more to say, your body.

-Don't act like you haven't seen a woman's body before Aegon.-

He didn't look away, he kept watching your every move shamelessly.

-I haven't seen yours before.-

his drunken voice broke the silence.

-good, go to sleep.-

you returned to washing your body,you saw how he eye fucked you.

-Go now,-

You waved him off like a mother would do to her child.

Aegon decided to disobey and move towards you, leaning on your tub now.

Your eyes looked into his.

-What do you want, child.-

And advantage you have as being older than him with five years.

He looked you up and down.

-You, I can have as many whores as I wish but I don't think they feel like you..-

You chuckled and leaned your head back.

-You can't always have what you want, and don't you ever compare me to your whores. -

Your hands ran through your hair, sighing,noticing how Aegon wanted to touch you.

You grabbed his wrists violently.

-Can't you listen brat?-

Your stern voice filled his ears. One hand grabbed his jaw tight.

-I need you...-

Aegon voice soft , a whimper.

-Find yourself a maid.-

The hand you had on his jaw released, pushing his face away.

-No maid could satisfy me anymore, I want, no I need to have you, please!-

He beggs, you look at his disheveled hair and face.

-Why would I do that?Do you think you are worthy or deserve it?-

Aegon stays quiet, knowing the answer to that.

-that's what I thought, now tell me, why would I fuck you? Your cock's been trough every woman that's crossed your eyes beside your mother and the old septa.-

You looked at his expression, he's not used to being denied things.

You take his face in your hand gently, your faces so close to each other.

The prince moved closer to your face, nose touching yours.

One hand behind his head, playing with his hair , the other resting on his face, caresing his beautiful features.

Your lips close the space with his, giving him a sweet kiss, that he linged so dearly for.

The white haired raised one of his hands to cup your face, the other wanted to touch your chest.

You slapped his hand away from your torso, opening your eyes to give him a warning look.

You pulled away against his wishes.

-No, I will not grant your wish until you prove yourself to be worthy for my love, affection and body.-

You pushed the boy away, deciding your bath is done.

You get up, revealing your whole body to, that's for short of course since you put on your robe.

Once again, you left the prince lustful and longing.

.

.

Sooo I wrote something for Aegon to!

I think I'll make this a second part, perhaps with smut? If he deserves it of course, I'm also thinking of ideas for my Aemond fic that you can check out on my page, until than, who wants a request you can ask!

Byeeee!

[wh0lemilk0vich]

alright it's been like 5 minutes but GUESS WHO'S BACK FOR MORE cuz chubby king egg has not left my brain for some godforsaken reason

But let us come together as a community and consider a three-way sitch - hard dom feeder Aemond, soft dom Jace, and chubby sub Aegon. Like I don't know why this trio hits my brain in just the right place but it d o e s and I don't know what to do about it

Like Aemond and Jace don't get along at all, so they're constantly bickering and fighting over Aegon who is just subbed the fuck out at all times. Aemond is rough and mean and likes force feeding, whereas Jace is a lot more coaxing and prefers being condescending rather than cruel when it comes to humiliation, and when he feeds Aegon it's a lot slower and more about getting him into subspace.

Also, this just recently materialized in my prefrontal cortex but for some reason it hits my mind in just the right place that Aegon is a crybaby. He gets easily overstimulated when overfed and will just kind of break down crying at different points, which I imagine Aemond fucking loves. More reason to tease his brother for being a softling with little control of himself.

These three in a bedroom setting would be as comedic as it is kinky - Aemond and Jace basically territory battling over Aegon, who's literally lying there like "boys, boys, no need to fight over lil ol' me" while ABSOLUTELY wanting them to fight over him. Jace delicately unclasping Aegon's doublet until Aemond gets fed up and just rips that shit off with the grace of a neanderthal and the desperation of a starving man.

Aegon would be a hell of a bratty bottom too, but like not even in the traditional way. It wouldn't be like "no, I don't wanna do that" - rather, he just says completely out of pocket shit that confuses the hell out of both Jace and Aemond.

Like they'd be stuffing him with some kind of fancy lemon cake and he'll just start spouting off about how some whore on the street of silk told him that eating lemons makes your cum taste better, and how one of them should taste his cum and let him know if there's a difference. And Jace and Aemond are just standing there, wondering how the hell Aegon came to the conclusion that this was good dirty talk

So they just stuff him enough that he can only whine instead of talking

-🍄

SHROOMIE this means everything to me. I want ever-so-much more of this community of fat sub bratty bitch Aegon truthers.

1. I am so into Jaegond it's not even funny. Like it's the exploring each other's bodies and naturally falling into these roles that just gets me. They could be anyone and anything to the outside world, but in their chambers it's egg is a fat submissive brat to tease and play with, and Aemond and Jace fight over who gets the toy. And you're right Jace is much more manipulative and condescending during his turns with Aegon preferring to tease and play around with him. Ties him up and edges him or plays with him until he's in tears and cums without being touched, twitching and squirming through it. But Aemond is 100% rough and forceful and loves to force feed his brother and humiliate him, grab him, make it clear how fat he's getting, how massive and soft and bitchly he is. Loves playing with/sucking his tits. Tells him if his ass gets any fatter he won't be able to reach his greedy hole anymore.

2. Crybaby Aeg is so fucking wonderful 🥵🥵🥵 he grew up a crybaby and stayed a crybaby and it's just a reflex now. Its not like he doesn't love everything that's happening, still completely hard, but like you said the overstimulation, being over full, and toyed with the entire time, he doesn't have anything else he can do and it makes him look even more cute and pitiful. But what about Aemond licking up Aegon's tears while fucking him and Jace is sucking his tits and edging him like, I'm weaaaaak 🥵

3. Absolutely love the idea of them fighting over Aegon. I bet Jace likes to keep Aegon mostly dressed, because he likes making him a mess in them, feeding him until they're too tight and straining and making him burst some of their fastenings before he finally relents and undoes more. But yeah Aemond is more bestial and feral and he lets his cock do all the thinking so he likes to gracelessly strip Aegon naked and just have his way with him.

4. Aegon's always an absolute dissolute mess which leads to him being a thoughtless little brat saying all of that out of pocket shit. Omg imagine him threatening "just wait until Mother hears about this, you won't be laughing then." Sad little mommy's boy

[barbieaemond]

Lykirī

PAIRING: Aemond Targaryen x wife!reader

WARNINGS: loss of virginity, fingering, oral sex (f and m receiving), handjob, we ride him bitches, dom/sub tones if you squint

WORD COUNT: 8.9k

Author's note: an early Christmas gift for those who celebrate!! For those who don't, just a regular smutty piece. This was based on a request where wife!reader rides Aemond. Merry Aemondmas :)

MASTERLIST

taglist: @zae5 @multyfangirl @arcielee

"You are to marry the King's second son. Prince Aemond Targaryen."

Those were your father's words. Your sister had looked at you almost with pity and a hint of relief since that fate had befallen you and not her. You had simply nodded, accepting the fate decided by your father, just as thousands of other daughters before and after you would have done.

Your mother had come to comb your hair before going to bed, and without much ado, she had told you what would happen after the wedding, after the banquet.

"All you have to do is try to relax your nerves, and I promise it will be less painful.”

The thought had stuck in your brain until the wedding day. And the aura emanating from the prince didn't help. He was stoic to the point of looking like a statue, his posture rigid as a spindle, and there was something unsettling about him that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand when he took your hand to recite the wedding vows. Fear, but also a foreign giddiness prickling your skin upon feeling his calloused fingers around yours.

The banquet had not helped either. Prince Aegon had behaved like a court jester, drinking to the point of wondering how he could stand upright, poking his brother with cruel jokes about his eye and a whore who had made Aemond a man many years before.

You didn’t know what kind of unpleasant memories your good-brother had just summoned in his brother’s mind. That woman and her cheap perfume, that way it had clung to his skin, to his thoughts for days after his only ever trip to Flea Bottom.

Then the elder Prince had approached you with his breath stinking of Dornish and it was then that Prince Aemond broke his icy silence, standing up abruptly and looking down at you. "Come, wife. It is time for us to retire."

Prince Aegon had clapped his hands as if in front of a hilarious show, saying "Finally some fun! The bedding!"

The entire crowd present at the banquet had escorted you to the prince's chambers. The servants had removed your dress, leaving you in your underskirts; you had unconsciously covered your chest, crossing your arms to hide from the greedy eyes of the men peering in the doorway, Prince Aegon in the front row with yet another cup of wine clutched between his fingers.

Master Mellos invited you to lie down on the bed, and you obeyed, swallowing, while a host of servants shielded you from view as the Maester made his humiliating inspection.

"All is in order, your Graces," the Master informed the Prince and Queen. And that was enough for Aemond to completely slip the iron mask off his face and go straight to the door. "The show is over. Get out."

"Oh, come on, little brother. Let me watch, at least. I could give you some tips."

Aemond had towered over his brother, and from your seat on the bed, you were able to see the eldest brother shrinking by the moment. "This is not some common whore you're speaking of.” Aemond seethed “She is my wife, and you will owe her the respect she deserves. One more lewd word from your mouth, and I will rip your tongue with my bare hands. Am I being clear?”

"Gods, brother, are you already so cunt-struck?"

He never got an answer, only the door being slammed right into his face.

You stood in the middle of the room, torturing your hands as he looked at you from the door. He seemed unsure of what to do, until he cleared his throat and took a few tentative steps in the room.

“You could have some wine, if you wish. It may…help you.” He said, but as he said this, he seemed to regret his own words, given how his mouth twitched as if he had just tasted something sour. Memories could come just like that, sudden and sour.

“You must relax, my prince. Have some wine, maybe? No need to worry, I will take care of you just as a prince deserves to.”

“I’d like to keep my mind clear, my Prince.” You said, keeping your gaze down, hearing his fast and deep sigh. “Fine.” he said, straightening his back as a soldier. After all, wasn’t this just another duty?

It wasn’t just that though. You were his wife now, the future mother of his children. It was his duty and his right to claim you as his own.

“Lay on the bed.”

With your heart pounding in your ears, you did as you were told but when the mattress dipped under his weight, you did not expect to see him with his clothes still on, the eyepatch firmly in its place. More so, you did not expect the harshness of his gestures as he held your waist to turn you around. The air hitched in your throat as your face met the mattress and a strange sorrow gripped your heart. Did he not want to look at you? Did he not like you?

“Try to stay still and it’ll be over shortly.” he said. He was trying to sound reassuring, but his voice came out cold and flat. His fingers latched on your underskirts, hiking them up, filling you with embarrassment as you grow completely exposed beneath him.

Aemond knew what to do. He may not have been as depraved as his brother, but he was still a man. And once in a while, when his hands would not suffice, some maid or servant girl would’ve had to bear, quite keenly on their part, his intimate attentions.

As his hands began to glide on your thighs, you shivered and said “Wait…”

Slowly your head turned to look at him, cheeks red and breath slow and anxious. “Am I not allowed to look at you?”

Your words seemed to stun him for a moment. The mere thought of you wanting to look at him made him realize how wrong he was behaving. You were his wife, not a common whore to bend over and have his moment of bliss. He had even told Aegon. That was not his intention, but there was a gap between how he felt and how he acted, a limb severed by years of pity looks and feelings trapped in his mouth and swallowed.

Almost gently, he made you turn but once you were facing him, he pinned your wrists on the mattress, unable to touch him even if you had gathered enough courage to do it. You tried to brace yourself for what your mother had told you. But she had not told you that he would touch you there, that all your senses would go numb except for that one brand new feeling between your legs. But he seemed enthralled by it just as you, his mouth parting to let out slow puffs of air as you grow wet and swollen against his fingers.

Your breath was labored, coming out in soft pants that made your cheeks purple. More so because he kept circling his deft fingers on your core while looking straight into your eyes, reveling in the way you were answering to his call, in the way he was shaping your need, your desire.

“You never touched yourself, did you?” he asked in a husky voice.

You barely shook your head and his eye glinted with something dark as he brought his face close to yours “Good. I shall be the only one inside you.”

He swallowed your shaky breath with this mouth, kissing you for the very first time, apart from the shy, almost prude peck exchanged after the wedding vows. Your lips moved shyly, trembling with the coiling pressure between your legs. And just when you thought this heat, this delicious aching couldn’t grow more unbearable, he sticked a finger inside you, spilling a loud moan right against his mouth.

One of your wrists twisted in his harsh hold, willing to touch him, to grip on something, but he didn’t let you. “Easy…” he blew on your lips “Relax. It’ll feel good, I promise…”

It surely felt good to him, to feel the tightness of your cunt squeezing his finger. He curled it and you squinted your eyes, choking a gasp that made him smirk proudly against your jaw. “Gods, you’re so tight…” he breathed as he kept rubbing slowly against your walls.

“It’s—it’s too much—“ you cried out with pain and pleasure running together, breathing his scent of ash, leather and a hint of something minty.

“How will you take my cock if you can’t even take my finger?” He whispered with benevolent cruelty, moving his finger faster and deeper.

Certainly your mother had not told you of the obscene wet sounds you would hear, of the uncontrollable moans coming out of your mouth, of his soft growling next to your ear when his breeches became too tight.

He had lined the tip of his hard manhood to your entrance, catching your breath away as tried to still your nerves, but the pain came altogether. You felt like he was cutting you from the inside. Tears filled your eyes, squinting for the painful stretching. You knew he was restraining himself; he didn’t want to hurt you more than he already was. And you almost felt affection for him, most men would not have bothered.

Then he had started to move, you felt that stranger body rubbing over and over against your walls, and finally the pain soothed, but not completely. You could tell he was enjoying it, his ragged breath and faint moans told you so, as well as the curses hissed through his teeth in a language you guessed was Valyrian. And then he had stilled completely, gripping your hips hard and firm while you felt a hot wave pulsing through your core.

The next morning, you could barely sit down for breakfast, and your aunt had looked at you with concern and a hint of amusement in her eyes. She was a veteran at court, a long-time widow, and quite happy to be so. It was her who suggested your betrothal to the Prince.

"How are you feeling, sweet niece?"

"Awful." you said promptly, shifting your weight on the seat.

"Well, this is the kind of anguish all women must go through."

"I thought that was giving birth to another human being."

"Oh Gods, no. That is the ugly part. This is the good one," she said with a sly smile "I suggest you enjoy it as much as you can."

At the time, you didn't really understand what she meant. The first night with the prince had gone...well, you thought. But he certainly enjoyed it more than you.

The second time was better. Your muscles were still sore, but the pain was but a faint discomfort compared to the pleasure you felt for the very first time in your life.

The third time he went down on you, bringing you so close to the edge only to deny your release, with cruel enjoyment on his part, making you whine with shame at the loss of his mouth and tongue on your folds.

The fourth time he bent you down on the breakfast table, all things falling in a mess of cutlery. He had pulled up your skirts and lowered his breeches just enough to thrust in, unraveling a special spot deep inside of you that had you mewling like some primitive beast.

The fifth time he had you writhing in bed, hair stuck to your head with sweat and hands clenching the sheets while he had you peak three times in a row.

It was then that you started to think your aunt was right.

That was indeed the good part.

“Are you afraid?” he asks, with a soft taunt on the tip of his tongue. You drag your eyes away from the gigantic beast before you and almost scoff. That is enough for him to laugh, quietly, but still not quietly enough for you to not notice and wonder at the view.

It’s been merely one moon since you’ve been married to Prince Aemond, and you could count on the fingers of your hand the times you have seen him laugh. It was eerie at first, you feared all the things you heard about the One Eyed Prince were true. That he was cold as stone and just as hard. And he was. But the more you spent time together, the more you were able to make cracks, and let light through.

“I’m equally afraid as any little mortal of right mind would be in front of the largest dragon in the known world, my dear husband.”

His lips stay quirked up, but his eye widens, as it always does when you call him that. He steps close to you, a few of his long strides are enough for him to tower over you, and the ground below your feet shifts.

“Come.” He says, taking your hand, “I promise she won’t eat you.” This time you deliberately glare at him, and he raises an eyebrow. “Do you need some other kind of persuasion to trust me? Perhaps like the one I used this morning?”

The early afternoon sun makes his face almost hurting to watch, or maybe it's just his bold gloating that makes his appearance so exhausting.

“That was not persuasion.” you remark, hiding the tinge of red on your cheeks “It was coercion.”

“Hmm. You didn’t seem so hostile when I made you come twice before breakfast.”

"I was hostile to the chance of the maid assisting with what we were doing."

"The maid should know better than to enter while my wife is undressing."

His eye roams over you just as he had done that morning, hunger clouding it, making your insides shrink. "Perhaps it's best if she knew. Someone must be aware of how cruel my husband is." there's a soft tease in your tone—something you are still learning, but true nonetheless.

He had ripped your nightgown with his bare hands when the maid entered to help you dress. She fled hastily, but you barely spared a glance at her, already lost to the fierce claim of his hand between your legs. He had taken you, twice, and then ordered you to dress, forcing you to have breakfast with the Queen and the Princess with your thighs still sticky with sex, sticky with him.

And he had been there, sitting just in front of you, with a piercing and delighted gaze.

He pulls your hand, and you follow, getting closer to that living relic that is Vhagar, Queen of All Dragons. She raises her monstrous head and looks straight at you with her amber eyes.

It is the first time you step so close to her, and even if you thought about it a lot, your heart is pounding fast, and your breath comes out slow and labored. She's a dreadful wonder.

She flares her nostrils and smells you, making a low rumble which results in a gust of hot wind that ruffles your hair and skirts.

“Lykirī, Vhagar.” Aemond says quietly “Issa ñuha ābrazȳrys. Kostā pāsagon zirȳla.”

You look at him questioningly, and he answers. “I told her you are my wife. And she can trust you.”

You cast a curious look at the dragon and then back at him “Is that all it takes? You tell dragons to trust you, and they resist the urge to turn you into their meal?”

Aemond curves his lips and makes you step closer, standing behind you and guiding your hand on the old green scales. “It takes much more than that.” he whispers in your ear “You have to surrender to them, completely. A dragon is no slave.”

You feel the heat beneath your palm, but it’s not that that makes you swallow; it’s the heat of his breath on your neck, right into your ear, scorching his way into your brain and inflaming every thought.

“What does Lykirī mean?” you ask, and you hate how your voice cracks on the edges.

He smirks because he knows, he always does. But he does not answer. Instead, he pulls your hand again, and you follow, circling the beast until stopping before the intricate ropes that lead to the saddle.

“Aemond, I don’t think—”

“You are my wife and you will ride with me on dragon back.” He said, commanding.

Truthfully, you gladly want to obey; there is just a slight difference between picturing riding a dragon and doing it.

Even the climbing to get in the saddle is a challenge on its own, but he helps you until you firmly seat yourself in it. Aemond sits behind you, and you look around with widened eyes, as if you are looking down from the highest tower ever built, except this is a living one, made of fire and breathing fire.

He leans over you to grab the reins, and you tense, waiting with bathed breath.

“Dohaeras, Vhagar. Soves!”

She lets out a loud screech that makes your ears hurt, but you have no time to even register it because she's already moving. You grip Aemond’s arms and brace yourself against his chest when Vhagar lurches onward and opens her huge wings to take flight.

She goes up and up, above the clouds, and your head is dizzy, with fear, with euphoria, until you are laughing like a child, like you never did in your entire life. Aemond lets go of the reins and laces his arms around you, angling his head to look at you, his silver hair violently ruffled by the wind. “How does it feel, my sweet wife?”

There are no common words to describe it. Now you know why they say Targaryens are closer to Gods than men. No man could claim a dragon or rule the skies.

“I feel like I’m close to the Gods.” you say, and he tightens the hold on you “Dragons do not answer to Gods.” he says, burying his nose in your hair “Where does this leave us?”

You turn your head to look at him, and you feel like you are looking at one of them. And yet he looks like he’s beyond any God.

“Above them. Above the Gods.”

“Hmm.” He croons, breathing your scent through his nose, and then his right hand grabs your skirt and dips underneath, until you feel his cold fingers grazing your skin. “I will make you feel like one.”

He cups your core through your small clothes, and you whimper, gripping his arm harder. He feels your heat through his palm, hotter than Vhagar’s own fire, and he sets the fabric aside to properly touch you. “My sweet wife.” he whispers, sliding a finger between your folds “Always so ready for me.”

“Aemond.” You say, holding your breath, trying to oppose but your voice cracks, and your body with it, already answering to his call. You see clouds before your eyes, but it’s all a blur, all your senses are enslaved by his touch, rubbing lazy circles on your bud. Too slow for your liking, for your need. Your hips arch and buck, chasing his hand for more friction, and he laughs, darkly. “What is it? What do you need, sweet girl? Tell me.”

He takes your chin with his free hand and forces you to turn your head and look at him. His hold is ruthless, but his tone is almost pleading. “Tell me.” he orders and you feel like he’s smothering you, sweeping away all the air from your lungs. “I-I need more…”

“More of what?” he asks, stopping altogether. “Show me.”

You look him in the eye and swallow, heat inflaming your cheeks, but there’s no place for shame, not here. It is just a faint ghost passing through you, and then it’s gone. Your hand pulls the gown up, and you place it on his, like a feather. “Here.” You breathe on his mouth “Inside.”

The howling wind does nothing to muffle his growl, and then he’s kissing you, harshly, teeth clashing and biting your lips as he accepts your plea, sliding a finger inside of you.

A strangled moan escapes you, and he swallows it, darting his tongue in every corner of your mouth. He releases your chin only to grab your leg to further open them and then he adds a second finger, moving them deftly until reaching that special spot. Your head falls back on his shoulder, gasping loudly, digging your nails into his hand.

Your breath is ragged and fast, and you uselessly try to stifle moan after moan even if there are only the skies to hear.

“Don’t.” he says grazing your lobe with his teeth “I want to hear you. I want you to scream for me.”

Your mind goes blank, as does all your restraint. You feel the tide coming to crash you, hips moving on their own accord, chasing and chasing. And then you’re drowning in it, mouth falling open and flesh and bones clenching and trembling.

He grunts softly when your nails scratch his skin and his fingers slip out, glistening; he raises them to his lips and tastes every drop of you. Still panting, he takes your chin once more with his sticky fingers and licks your lips, so you taste yourself on his tongue.

Your head is still dizzy when Vhagar lands in a clearing in the King’s Wood, but this has nothing to do with altitude. Your limbs are heavy when he helps you dismount, your legs buckle. There is a tautness knotting your bones, itching your fingertips.

You wish to touch him, because you have never, not as a wife would touch her husband, not as he has done with you.

It is only a moon and yet he has taken you almost every night and every day. He has touched you everywhere, he has molded you to his liking, and you let him do it with giddiness, undoing yourself like clay in his hands. He had put his mouth on you, and you have discovered he particularly enjoyed it, because he has done that at the most inopportune times, even in some dark corner of the corridors.

And you wondered if you could do the same with him—not because you have to, but because you want to. You want to claim him just as he claims you, relentlessly.

And he really is. He is relentless, he doesn't give you the time to wander with your hands, to discover, to touch. Fire burns him quickly and you are ashes before you realise you are burning with him.

“I didn’t know my wife had claws.” He says at one point, while you are going back to the Keep.

You wake from your thoughts and turn, watching him raise his hand to show the red marks on the back of his hand, and the sight makes you almost proud—proud to have left a mark of you on him. But you want more, and he wants more. You know it; it takes a brief look at his breeches to know that he wants more.

You dart your eyes around, but there's no one. So, you stop. Trying to gather all the boldness you never had, you step closer to him and take his hand in yours. Your eyes look up slowly, glinting with uncertainty and bravery. "Then let me soothe your pain, husband."

Aemond’s eye widens, and the air around you turn heavy, forcing you to open your mouth to breathe. You take one more step and bring the back of his hand to your lips, kissing it gently while your eyes stay fixed on his face. The other hand goes tentatively to his chest and then slides down, and for once, just once, he’s the one answering your call. His eye darkens and his lips part when your hands bashfully grab the laces of his breeches.

But you should have known better. Targaryens and their desires. Doomed to take whatever they want, whenever they want, answering neither Gods nor men.

You barely blink and he grabs you by the wrists and forces you to the ground. Cold grass and bushes stinging your back make you gasp, but Aemond is already on you, watching you like a century-long thirsted man who takes a glimpse of a water spring, as if you could evaporate from his sight at any moment.

“Aemond, please.” you beg “let me—“

But his tongue is in your mouth, hot and scorching you alive. Your eyes flutter shut, and he hikes your skirts up, taking hold of your hips. You feel his bulge against you, hard and ready, and you can do nothing else than wait, pinned down like prey, all bravery a distant memory.

Suddenly he lowers himself down, lifting your skirts with haste until you’re completely bare half down. “No—Aemond, please I want to—”

“You want what?” he asks with a wolfish grin “Deny me your sweet taste? Iksā ñuhon, ābrazȳrys.” He said that already, you know what it means. You are mine.

“You belong to me. And this…” he swears placing your legs on his shoulders while looking at your aching core as a man who found the greatest treasure in the world. “This belongs to me as well.”

He runs his tongue up and down your wet folds, humming with delight as he tastes you and sees you squirm, arching your back on the stingy bushes. You moan loudly when he slowly swirls his tongue, not able to keep track of your hips starting  to move on their own, thrusting into his mouth and the sight of you like this, makes him even wilder, pushing him to open his mouth and put it entirely on your cunt, sucking harshly until anything before your eyes becomes blurred.

Your legs on his shoulders begin to shake and curl, caging him further against you, but just when you are about to come straight into his mouth, he pulls back. A weak sob leaves your mouth as your hips keep bucking against nothing and he smirks at that, untangling your legs from his shoulders, running his tongue over his lips, to taste what's left of you on him. You look at him through dazed eyes and a tinge of annoyance for the denied release. “What?” he has the boldness to ask with a sly smirk “Did you not enjoy it?” he runs his thumb on his glistening chin and swiftly licks it. "Hmm. I most certainly did."

“Aemond, please.” you claw desperately at his shoulders and forearms, forcing him to lie on you, feel something that could soothe the aching between your legs. He seems keen to grant you this mercy, molding his crotch against you so you can feel how hard and desperate he is.

“Please.” you beg in a thin voice.

“Speak it plainly, my love. I want to hear it from your pretty mouth.”

You look at him straight in the eye and what you say next is not a request nor a plea. Your mother would be ashamed of you, but you can’t bring yourself to care.

You are not begging. You are demanding. “Fuck me.”

He doesn’t need more than a few moments to get his cock out of his breeches, and not a moment later he’s pushing inside of you, your back arching on the bushes and your throat fighting for breath. He groans and starts a relentless pace, lifting his weight from you just enough for him to look at his cock going in and out, the sight only pushing him to thrust harder and harder. “Look at you.” he croons, sweet and rough “You were born to take me, to be mine.”

Your face twists with pleasure, teeth biting your lower lip while he takes you higher and higher, higher than any sky a dragon could ever take you.

He soon becomes messy and sloppy, cursing under his breath, but you can barely hear him. Your mind is sluggish and everything comes muffled: him, the birds chirping on some tree, your wet flesh slapping against his in the lewdest and most blessed way.

He curses some more, and then he’s spilling inside you, his arched mouth opening and his eye closing like a man absolved.

And yet, he does not stop. He has not claimed enough.

“Māzis, dōna ābrazȳrys. Come for me.”

Your hand clutches something on the ground, something with thorns that pierces your skin with pain, but you can’t even feel that, because you are falling, legs trembling around him, and heart stopping for an endless moment of pure breathtaking bliss.

“Gevie.” he coos with his lips on yours, falling with his body on you, still clenching and pulsing around him. He stays right where he is, nesting inside of you, and now it is the only chance you have been granted to touch him. You put an arm around his shoulders, catching your breath, and look at the skies above, thinking you are indeed above them.

It was easy to explain the dirt and grass stains on your dress. It was a little less easy to explain the twigs in your ruffled hair when you and Aemond returned to the Keep only to meet the Queen Mother along one of the corridors. Alicent merely smiled at you with a tight smile and did not spare from giving a look full of daggers to her son.

"Seven Hells" you mutter when you go back to your rooms and catch a glimpse of the mess you are in the mirror.

Aemond stays on the threshold to close the door and grins, or rather, gloats.

You step out of your muddy shoes and start to pull the laces of your dress.

"What are you doing?" he asks, and you playfully glare at him. "Am I allowed to take a bath now? Or do you want me to go around all sullied? I fear there are no believable excuses for the state I’m in."

"You can tell them the truth." he says, walking to you and replacing your hands with his to help you pull the intricate laces.

You smile softly with your back turned before raising an eyebrow, asking "Which is?"

He keeps his eye focused on the dress, a slight furrow in his brow, and stoically serious, he says "That your husband fucked you in the King's Wood."

"I could tell the maid. I'm sure she won't be stunned after what she saw this morning."

He makes you turn so you can look at him, and the sight before you makes your heart sing. His eye roams on your face softly, a rare sight on him, always stoic, always sharp, like all the angles composing this beautiful sculpture of black glass.

You always thought of marriage as a strategic deal for men, and a way for women to prove their value to the world, giving those same men sons and daughters. But you care for him. And he cares for you. That look on his face is enough for you to know that he cares for you, not merely as a brood mare.

“Gevie.” he says, quietly, and he touches your cheek, softly, making you wonder how those same hands can be so delicate and yet so merciless at the same time.

“What does it mean?” you ask, even if you are sure he will not answer. You observed that when he speaks in High Valyrian he does it almost to himself, as if to protect something he does not wish the others to know.

But this time, he meets your eyes and lowers his hand. “Beautiful.”

You look at him with your heart pounding in your throat, and then you stand up on your toes, crashing your mouth against his, almost catching him by surprise. But he is all too deft at turning the game on his side, and a few seconds later, his hands are gripping your hips and his tongue is licking the roof of your mouth.

When the door suddenly opens, you pull back, spotting the same maid from that morning who, this time, can do nothing but suffer the Prince's wrath.

"Can't you just fuck off for once?!"

You hold back a laugh against his chest and the poor maid flees in a hurry. But when he pulls you to him, tilting his head to pick up where he left off, you step back and say, "I'm afraid the Queen has requested your presence. You should go, my dear husband. I promise that by tonight I will be completely clean."

"Tonight?" he asks, raising his eyebrow. "What is happening tonight?"

You shrug your shoulders and hold back a smile. "Innocence doesn't suit you, my Prince."

"Neither does you."

"I'm afraid this is your fault. You are sullying my soul as well as...everything else."

"You won't be of the same mind when you have my child growing in your womb," and he smirks, looking at you as if he's taking a sacred oath, and then walks away.

You finally manage to take a bath and change clothes, and then you go to visit your aunt. She spends most of her time alone, sipping tea in the gardens, partly because she can't stand the other court ladies, partly because the court ladies can't stand her. Truthfully, you cannot blame them, your aunt speaks plainly—too plainly at times.

You sit down with her for tea, which you end up swallowing like salt, because your aunt takes it with a whole squeezed lemon, and no sugar.

"I saw you with your husband earlier. I may be too old for new fashion but mud on your skirt and twigs in your hair seem a bit too brazen, even for me."

You stifle a smile, recalling what happened. If only she knew he was brazen enough to have you utterly undone on dragon back, thousands of feet up.

Your eyes go distant while you fumble with some tablecloth threads, but your Aunt stares at you piercely, and grabbing her cup of tea she says "I love that look on you."

"What?"

She sips the sour liquid and puts the cup down. "That look. The I'm in love look."

"I am not!" you counter, cheeks going red.

"Of course you are. I've watched you two. I dare say he's falling way faster than you."

You look at her puzzled. Many things have changed in a moon. And you are sure you are utterly infatuated with him. But you did not know what to think of what he actually feels for you, if he even feels something. You know he cares for you, you know he loves spending time with you. You know he's passionate, possessive, almost soft at rare times. But in love? That seems too soon to consider, or to hope for.

"It is too soon to talk about love."

"In fact, I did not, my sweet niece. Falling in love and love are beasts of different species. Why do you think we say "falling"? You can't stop from falling. To love a person is an entirely different matter. Love is a choice."

You let those words sink but you prefer not to question your heart right now. There is a reason you have come here to talk to your aunt, even if you don't know how to address the matter without melting from embarrassment.

But in the end, who could you ask for advice? Your squeamish maids? The Queen Mother? Definitely not.

"Listen, I...I wanted to ask you something..." you start "It is uhm...a matter of somewhat intimate nature."

"Ah, my favourites." your aunt says, beaming "I am all ears."

You shift uncomfortably in your chair and swallow another sip of that dreadful tea "My mother...she explained to me what would happen between husband and wife to...consummate the marriage. But she didn't tell me...well, everything else."

Your Aunt is quick to raise her eyebrow "I gathered that your marriage had been consummated by now. Thoroughly."

"Y-yes, of course. But I...discovered...that there are other ways for a husband to please his wife...and I was wondering if...if I could…do those same things to please him."

Your aunt looks utterly puzzled for a long moment, and then, almost stunned, she says "Oh Seven Hells, child. You are telling me you never sucked your husband off?"

A few court ladies walking near turned their heads, going white as sheets, while you, on the contrary, take a nice purple shade.

"Oh, don't look at me like that, prissies. We all did it eventually." she dismisses them, waving a lazy hand, and looks back at you. "You should do it, if you wish. Men love it. Your uncle used to ask—"

"I don't want to hear that, auntie, I'm begging you." you say squinting your eyes.

"Listen to me, child. Men love to think they rule everything, everywhere. But it is not always like that. And if you want to rule your husband's heart, you must rule in his bed first."

That evening, Aemond wanted nothing more than to lock himself in his room with his wife and forget all the hateful political talk he had had to endure at dinner.

You had not attended, and that had bothered him. Never would he have thought of marriage as anything more than a duty, yet there he was, wondering where you were, who you were with, and why you weren't in his rooms when he set foot in there.

"Where is my wife?" he asks the maid, and she keeps her eyes glued to the floor, saying "The princess spent the evening in the library, your Grace. She told me that she would be—"

"I am here," you say, appearing behind the young maid.

You see his chest sag as if a weight is leaving him, and he casts an icy glance at the poor maid "Out."

He is rarely kind to servants, but you can tell by his tense shoulders that something is wrong.

"Aemond, what is the matter?" you ask as soon as the door closes, walking up to him with a hand behind your back.

"Where were you? Why weren't you at dinner?"

"I was in the library."

"For four hours?"

"It was a tough read—"

He grabs your arm, gripping hour wrist harshly, and you flinch. "Aemond, I swear to you.” you say watching his eye on fire and a sneer twisting his mouth “You can ask Maester Mellos." 

Suddenly he lets you go, and looks down, closing his eye for a moment. But he doesn't apologize, he never does, and not because he is a Prince. It's just the way he is. He doesn't apologize, he doesn't say thank you, he doesn't say please.

"Aemond, what's going on?"

"I don't want to talk about it now. In fact, never. Not here."

You watch him carefully, and you nod as he moves to pour wine into a cup. You watch him gobble it up greedily, which is unlike him. So, you get close and move your hand from behind your back and say, "Anyway, I wasn't lying. I really spent four hours in the library...trying to decipher this."

You show him an old book, and the title catches his eye, cup held in midair. "Tales of the Dragonlords?" he asks frowning. "This is in High Valyrian."

"It is." you confirm as you move closer, and you steal his cup before saying, "Would you read it to me?" and you take a sip, of wine and courage.

He watches the liquid flow down your throat and then accepts the invitation, taking the book—the one he has read so many times he can recite it by heart. He opens it to the first page, but you say "No. Page 72."

There is a slight imperative tone in your tone of voice, and it thrills him, given how his eye glints under the candlelight. He drops it on the table, looking at you from head to toe, and says, "I'll read it to you later, sweet wife."

He steps closer but you back away saying, "Fine, then. I'll tell you what I understood so you can correct me or not." and at the same moment your own hands go up on your corset and you start pulling on the laces.

The gesture catches his eye like a moth to a flame and he stays silent as you pull all the laces and then slip off your dress, remaining in your underskirt. His gaze roams over you slowly, and with a soft smirk, he decides to play the game.

“Page 72, you said. How Dragonlords claimed Dragons.”

“Yes.”

"And why did it capture your interest? Do you wish to do it? Do you wish to claim a dragon?"

"I wish to conquer, not claim."

He comes closer and looks at you, breathing through his nose, restraining, always restraining, and then he's raising his hand to reach a lock of your hair falling on your shoulder, but you stop him, air as heavy as moss.

"The Valyrian sages say a dragonlord must surrender himself completely to the dragon. But it works both ways. The dragon must submit his will to their rider."

He looks at you without blinking, and you take his arms, guiding him closer until you turn and push him lightly on the bed. He sits and you slowly climb on his lap, knees caging his hips, heart is pounding in your throat like a hammer. You hear him taking a swift breath and pride pools in your bones because for once you have caught him off guard.

You can feel his crotch hardening by the moment, but the look on his face is not one of hunger or lust. It is pure and blessed devotion.

You wonder at the view, and your eyes roam on his face until...

"Can I take it off?"

There's no need to say what. His face goes hard as stone, eye looking away with discomfort, with shame.

"Please, Aemond." you whisper. "I want to see all of you. I want you to bare yourself to me as I did to you."

"It is not pleasant."

"I don't want pleasantness. I want you."

He stares at you for an eternal moment and then he caves.

A flash of sparkling blue catches you completely and you can do nothing but watch with lips parted, while he keeps his eye down.

You wrap an arm around his shoulders and lean your head against his to breathe one single word in his ear. "Gevie."

His arms are all around you, holding you so tight you might gasp for air. Instead you are smiling, breathing through his long silver hair. You are not sure if you aunt is right, if love is indeed a choice. You can't bring yourself to care because you are doing it already.

And then he's kissing you, seizing your tongue with his in a fierce consuming way. He slightly hikes up your hips, and his hand tries to slide between your legs, but you lace your fingers around his wrist, breaking the kiss with panted breath.

"No." you whisper, and he looks at you almost questioningly, mouth open and chest heaving.

"Lykirī."

His eye widens and you smile, secretly. "I know what it means now."

He smirks at this and does not miss the chance to be the ever diligent scholar. "But you said it wrong. The R is hard."

“Lykirī.” You say again, following his lesson, and in the same moment your hand leaves his wrist and goes down to his breeches. He dips his chin to look at it, at your hands unsure, and he too looks unsure.

“You don’t have to—“

“I want to.” You say, and your voice comes out firm and clear. “Please, Aemond. Let me…let me touch you.”

He realizes now that in all the times you have been lying together, you never managed to lay a hand on him. He likes to keep people at distance. Too many wrong hands have been on him. The Maesters’, inspecting, debating, healing without healing. That whore, taking what it was not hers to take, not yet.

But he wants you to touch him. He has dreamed of it, in any way a man could dream of a woman’s touch.

He looks at you for a moment, chest rising slowly, and then, without taking his eye off you, he pulls the laces of his breeches and guides your hand around his cock. You look down, exhaling a long breath at feeling his hard and hot flesh already pulsing.

He knows you don’t know how to do it, so his hands guide you at first, going slowly up and down, and the air comes out of his mouth slowly and labored. You look up at him, his eye is pitch black, lid growing heavy with pleasure, and your core clenches, desire pools in your belly and flows down.

He must hear the call of your body, because he releases your hand, still stroking him, and goes right between your legs. You gasp loudly, and he hums, delight dripping from his voice just as you are dripping on his fingers. He starts to pump his fingers and you can do nothing but moan, clutching his shoulders with your free hand, the other still around his cock, but the act is growing lazy, your mind can’t focus properly on what you are supposed to do.

“Listen.” he orders you, fingers moving faster and faster, and you do listen. Your soaked flesh coming undone at his scorching touch. “Who else has you like this?”

But this is a question he’s asking himself. Because no one else will ever have him bare like this.

“You. Just you.” you say hoarsely, eyes closing and hips rocking on their own accord.

“And who am I?” he whispers just as hoarsely, and yet his voice is like a whip on all your senses.

“My husband.” you cry, feeling the wave ready to drown you “Ñuha zaldrīzes.” My dragon.

You cannot care less about how you said it, because then your mouth falls open, nails digging into his shoulder while your trembling hips keep riding his fingers, clenching them like a vice.

Your head falls onward, leaning against his forehead, and you try to catch your breath. You watch his wet fingers go straight into his mouth while he looks at you, humming with pleasure. “You look so pretty like this.” he says with the ghost of a smile on his lips “I should fuck you in Throne Room with the whole court watching, so they know how pretty you are when you come for me.”

You laugh with your cheeks flushing, and he slides an arm around you, and you know he wants to pin you down on the bed and fuck you until you are muffling nonsense in the pillow. But this is not his game. This is yours, and even if you don’t know how to play, you will win.

“No.” you say, climbing down from his lap, and he looks at you with hunger and a tinge of thrilling curiosity. “It is my turn to claim.” You say with all the bravery you possess.

Not a moment later, you are going down on your knees.

Another small victory, because his eye widens as he had never done before, and you can see that this, the sight of you on your knees before him, is something he has been craving for, even dreamed of it.

His breathing is slow, and you are not even touching him.

You place yourself between his knees and you lean closer and closer, anxiety twisting your insides, but you want to do this. “Lykirī, nuha zaldrīzes. Surrender.” you take him into your hand, tugging slowly, and your lips linger on the tip, heart pounding in your ears and eyes fixed on him. “Lykirī.” You say one last time and then you are swallowing him.

He hisses loudly and his lips part, hands clutching the covers until his knuckles go white. He’s like burning metal inside your mouth—hot and hard. At first, you just taste him, running your tongue over the head, and he’s cursing under his breath. His hands twitch on the covers, restraining and restraining, but there’s no need. You take his hand while looking at him and you release it from your mouth to say “Teach me.”

It’s like you have just poured fire on more fire. His eye goes wild, he takes hold of your head and starts to guide you again, making your mouth engulf him once more and deep down to the base and then up to the tip again, filling the room with a wet gagging sound. You get the gist of what you’re supposed to do, so your head starts going up and down and up and down, and he actually moans for you, head falling back for just a moment before looking back, he can’t help but watch as you fiercely claim him.

You watch his chest heaving fast and your jaw is starting to hurt but you don't care, you are too absorbed by the view before you. You are too thrilled by the fact that, for once, you have made him speechless.

He's always so bold in the bedroom, so cruel in deciding when and how to give pleasure, and now he's utterly speechless. He can only curse without breath, and gasp and groan.

“Kelītīs.” he manages to say at one point, voice all husky and cracking. You don’t know that word, and you have no time to ask because in a blink, he’s slamming you onto the bed and he’s hiking up your skirt, but you get on your elbows pushing him on his back and climbing on him.

“I’m not done, valzȳrys.” you say feeling his hard length inflaming your core, so you lay your hips on it as firmly as possible. “I claimed, but I did not conquer.”

“You are fucking torturing me.” he points out, bucking against you.

“Conquests could last for centuries, dear husband. You above all should know that.”

“All I know now is that I need to fuck you.” he says placing both hands on the sheets to pull himself up.

“No, I will.” you promise, rocking your hips once more “This is my conquest, not yours.”

You keep rubbing your drenched core on his length until a sheen of sweat glistens on his forehead, and he's so hard he's leaking from the tip. "You are twisted, wife." he says with a dazed tone and you smile even if you can't take it anymore, but you rock some more, saying "I'm a quick study. And I'm learning from the best."

Finally, when you are so wet you are dripping on him, you raise just enough to slide his cock inside of you.

You gasp together and you brace on his shoulders to start moving. You both know you are not going to last long, so you start rocking your hips slowly, taking him to the hilt until you struggle for air.

“Move…” he orders but you just take the opposite road, slowing your hips in a delicious torturing way. “Do you know what else the Sages said? A rider must know their mount, feel their heat below them.”

But Aemond does not have a single drop of blood in his head right now to give you an answer, let alone play your game; he's just fire that burns and burns and burns and just like the Sages said, you can feel his heat, burning below and inside you. He grips your hips and starts to thrust inside you like the wild beast you are supposedly claiming, until you are moaning so loud your throat hurts.

“Yes—” he growls as you bounce on him “Just like that—you’re gripping me so well—fuck"

You both turn sloppy, a mess of sweaty limbs and teeth biting, clutching at each other with bruising grips, pulling at the roots of his hair when you’re about to fall from the highest sky.

"Come on, my sweet girl. Let go for me." he breathes into your mouth, forcing you to move even faster "Let go fro your dragon. Seal your conquest." And you do.

He follows right after, spilling inside while digging his teeth into your neck like fangs on a prey, muffling his loud groaning.

And you are smiling like a fool, a lovestruck fool, but most of all, a conqueror. 

Thank you so much for reading!! 💞💞

[coryosbaby]

will you make a masterlist for all of your fics?

ITS FINALLY HERE !! Get ur vibrator & a bucket of popcorn for this wild ride 😁 It’s probably not everything but it’s most, srry :( some r drabbles, some r not

There will be more to come!

Bunny’s Masterlist ♡

Warning: contains 18+ themes

(read content warnings pls!!)

Scream (Ethan Landry, Chad Meeks Martin, Amber Freeman):

Perv! Sub! Neighbor Ethan with bimbo! Reader (smut)

Camp Counselor! Ethan Landry bending you over a picnic table and fucking you raw (smut)

Sub! Ethan and bimbo! Reader going down on each other <3 (smut)

Fucking stepbrother! Ethan Landry on a camping trip (smut)

Subby himbo Ethan (smut)

Ultraviolence- Stepbrother! Ethan Landry feat. Chad Meeks Martin (not completed yet) (mostly smut w/plot)

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Sub! Chad meeks Martin only wanting to please you (smut)

Mutual masturbation with stepbrother! Ethan (smut)

Somnophilia with stepbrother! Ethan (smut)

Getting caught being with Stepbrother! Ethan Landry (angst)

Lactation kink with Ethan (smut)

Ethan marking you with his cum (smut)

Getting punished by Ethan and Chad (smut)

Service top Chad with sub! Ethan and reader (smut)

Ethan tied up and overstimulated (smut)

Knifeplay with sub! Ethan (smut)

Pegging Ethan (smut)

Chad and bimbo! Reader teaching sub! Ethan how to give head (smut)

Bimbo! Reader using a fleshlight on sub! Ethan (smut)

Sub! Ethan Headcannons (smut)

Dom! Reader with sub! Ethan and brat! Chad (smut)

Helping sub! Ethan relieve stress (smut)

Overstimulating sub! Ethan while riding him (smut)

Blowing Ethan in his knight costume (smut)

Perv! Ethan x bimbo! Reader (smut)

Somnophilia with Stalker! Ethan (smut)

Soft dom! Ethan and soft sex (smut)

Ethan with bimbo! Reader Headcannons (smut)

Chad and Ethan taking turns with sub! Reader (smut)

Sub! Ethan getting rimmed & pegged (smut)

Knifeplay with Amber Freeman (smut)

“stepbrother I’m stuck” trope with Ethan (smut)

Ethan wearing your underwear <3 (smut)

Dark! Ethan Landry Headcannons (smut)

Vampire! Ethan Landry x Werewolf! Chad Meeks Martin x reader (smut)

Outer Banks (Rafe Cameron, Pope Heyward, Barry)

Obx Porn Links

Dark! Rafe Cameron Headcannons (sfw & nsfw)

Best friend! Rafe taking your virginity (smut)

Sub! Rafe (smut)

Rafe with a crazy reader (mentions of sex)

Rafe brainrot (smut)

Stepbrother! Rafe comforting reader (hinted smut, fluff)

Barry with bimbo! Reader Headcannons (smut involved)

Gunplay with dom! Barry (smut)

Spiderman! Pope hcs (sfw & nsfw)

Barry kidnapping cameron! Reader (smut)

Dark! Rafe Headcanons (smut + sfw)

Florida Kilos— Rafe Cameron x fem! Best friend! Reader (smut w/ plot)

Part 1

Predator/pray kink with rafe (smut)

stepbro! Rafe fluff :)

Fear Street (Tommy Slater and Nick Goode)

older! Nick Goode + fucking you in his office (smut)

Kissing Tommy for the first time (no smut)

Sweet Serial Killer - Younger! Gf! Nick Goode x reader

Part 1

The Hunger Games (Finnick Odair, Coriolanus Snow, Sejanus Plinth, Reaper Ash)

fucking switch! Finnick in the arena while everyone watches (smut)

Coriolanus with a breeding kink and an escort! reader (smut)

Virgin! Coryo fucking Sejanus’ girl (smut) pt 2.

angsty reaper ash blurb (smut)

Sejanus + size kink blurb (smut)

coryo + jealous reader blurb (smut)

Cowboy! Coriolanus au (smut)

Angst + dark coryo & plinth! Reader (smut)

munch coryo x maid! Reader (smut)

virgin! Coryo blurb (smut)

Sub! Coryo fucking his way up to the top (literally) (smut) pt 2

The Last of Us (Joel Miller)

Somnophilia with dark! dbf! Joel + grinding (smut)

Avatar (Jake Sully)

size kink with Jake (smut)

House of the Dragon (Aegon Targaryen)

sub! Aegon with Aemond’s wife (smut)

Halloween Series (Corey Cunningham)

blurb of giving Corey head <3 (smut)

The Lost Boys (Star)

a cozy night with star <3 (smut)

Spider-Man (Miguel O’Hara)

Miguel taming you (smut)

American Psycho (Patrick Bateman)

Patrick x trad goth! Bimbo! Reader (smut with some complicated feelings)

Saw (Adam Stanheight, Mark Hoffman, Peter Strahm, Amanda Young)

night terrors and handjobs (smut with angst)

mark coming home to his lover (smut)

Cockwarming with Mark + a threeway with Strahm (smut)

a little psycho! Fem! Reader x Adam blurb (smut)

dom! Adam (smut)

yandere! Mark blurb (smut)

eating out dom! Amanda (smut)

Hayden Christensen (Anakin Skywalker)

spanking with modern! Punk! Anakin (smut)

Insatiable (aka, dbf! Neighbor! Anakin and his many affairs with you) — masterlist (smut with plot)

Dbf Anakin! + flashing + milkshakes = fucking (smut)

Anakin x overwhelmed reader blurb (smut)

Anakin + reader with bad memory (fluff)

Dbf! Anakin + religious reader (smut)

Queen of the Damned (Lestat De Lioncourt)

bath scene with sub! Lestat & reader (smut)

Fnaf (Mike Schmidt)

Mike nsfw headcanons (smut)

small lil Mike x succubus blurb (smut)

[atopvisenyashill]

Saw someone compare Catelyn and Alicent as “abusive andals who force their religion on others” and like, completely disregarding the vastly different situations those two are put in, it’s such a ridiculous complaint!!

Firstly, Aegon the Dragon converted to the Faith of the Seven even before his conquest! Yes, both he and Jaehaerys carve out exceptions for Valyrian incest behavior, but it’s like the equivalent of going “well i think catholicism is a little high strung can we be church of england instead.” Even before he starts the Conquest, Aegon has clearly started converting House Targaryen and likely House Velaryon, to the Faith:

Lord Aegon and his sisters took counsel with them, and visited the castle sept to pray to the Seven of Westeros as well, though he had never before been accounted a pious man.

Aegon even counts his reign to have started not with his first battles, but with his anointed crowning:

Three days later, in the Starry Sept, His High Holiness himself anointed Aegon with the seven oils, placed a crown upon his head, and proclaimed him Aegon of House Targaryen…perhaps for that reason, it was thus coronation, rather than the Aegonfort crowning or the day of Aegon’s Landing, that became fixed as the start of Aegon’s reign.

The Targaryens landed on a continent of people whose ancestors, by and large, came to westeros specifically to flee Valyria, decided to follow in Valyria’s footsteps by conquering with their dragons, but in an attempt to show they weren’t the Freehold, assimilated into the dominant cultures of Westeros. There’s several instances of Aegon purposefully tying himself to Andal religion over anything Valyrian when he’s building King’s Landing:

A makeshift sept constructed out of the hulk of a cog in the Blackwater served the common people, and soon a much grander sept was raised on Visenya’s Hill…Aegon decreed there should be room enough for the city to expand within those walls, and that seven great gatehouses would defend seven gates, in honor of the Seven.

Rhaenys the Conqueror does this as well when she sits the Iron Throne, clearly attempting to align the Iron Throne’s justice with that of the Faith:

After deliberating with the maesters and septons, Rhaenys declared that, whilst the gods made women to be dutiful to their husbands and so could be lawfully beaten, only six blows might ever be struck—one for each of the Seven, save the Stranger, who was death.

It’s not explicitly in the text, but the fact that Visenya’s building about the Kingsguard comes in the same chapter of Fire & Blood (and I believe on the same page in TWOIAF), and she picked 7 men to make up the Kingsguard, points to a similar, “we are tying our dynasty to the Faith of the Seven” reasoning.

This is like, the one major concession the Targaryens make to the rest of the continent and given that a peasant uprising happens when they attempt to drift too far from the Faith, it’s an important concession bc religion is important to the people of Westeros. Alicent isn’t oppressing Valyrians for being religious when The Seven are already baked into the establishment of King’s Landing and the Iron Throne - it’s not like she disowns Aegon or Helaena for incest marrying, does she? In the show, she’s even the one that pushes for it.

Secondly, there is no evidence that Catelyn is crueler to Jon for believing in the Old Gods, nor is there any indication that she begrudges her own children their faith in the Old Gods. In fact, Catelyn not only understands their faith, she encourages it, and even seems to believe the direwolves were sent by the old gods to protect her Northern children. We see this first after Summer saves her and Bran’s lives:

The wolf was looking at her. Its jaws were red and wet and its eyes glowed golden in the dark room. It was Bran's wolf, she realized. Of course it was. "Thank you," Catelyn whispered, her voice faint and tiny. She lifted her hand, trembling. The wolf padded closer, sniffed at her fingers, then licked at the blood with a wet rough tongue.

Emphasis is mine - she doesn’t just thank Summer, she holds her hands out as a sort of peace offering, which Summer gladly accepts. And there’s several instances where she’s insistent Robb keep Grey Wind with him:

The wolf. The wolf is not here. Where is Grey Wind? She knew the direwolf had returned with Robb, she had heard the dogs, but he was not in the hall, not at her son's side where he belonged.

Despite her initial reluctance - during a time of incredible stress, I might add - Catelyn comes to see the direwolves as a favorable omen, as accepting of the direwolves as protectors as she is of her children worshiping the old gods.

“These scars . . . they sent a man to cut Bran's throat as he lay sleeping. He would have died then, and me with him, but Bran's wolf tore out the man's throat." That gave her a moment's pause. "I suppose Theon killed the wolves too. He must have, elsewise . . . I was certain the boys would be safe so long as the direwolves were with them. Like Robb with his Grey Wind. But my daughters have no wolves now."

Yes, she does often associate her children with her Faith when she’s praying, but this is no different than Robb, Sansa, or Ned praying in the godswood - she is simply looking to a higher power to give her peace and answers. Notice she even associates Jon with the Faith!

Not even a cricket could be heard, and the gods kept their silence. Did your old gods ever answer you, Ned? she wondered. When you knelt before your heart tree, did they hear you?

…the Father's face made her think of her own father, dying in his bed at Riverrun. The Warrior was Renly and Stannis, Robb and Robert, Jaime Lannister and Jon Snow. She even glimpsed Arya in those lines, just for an instant.

There is no sense of “I just wish my pesky northern daughter and her stupid northern bastard brother were more southern” in her thoughts, merely that, while worrying after all the men she knows that are fighting a war, she sees them in the Warrior’s face, and then sees her lost daughter as well.

The only “these northern gods are weird” moment we get is her very first chapter, where she’s a little unsettled being in the godswood. But note that the godswoods of the North are way different than the ones in the South, something she literally spells out:

The godswood there was a garden, bright and airy, where tall redwoods spread dappled shadows across tinkling streams, birds sang from hidden nests, and the air was spicy with the scent of flowers.

The gods of Winterfell kept a different sort of wood. It was a dark, primal place, three acres of old forest untouched for ten thousand years as the gloomy castle rose around it. It smelled of moist earth and decay. No redwoods grew here. This was a wood of stubborn sentinel trees armored in grey-green needles, of mighty oaks, of ironwoods as old as the realm itself. Here thick black trunks crowded close together while twisted branches wove a dense canopy overhead and misshapen roots wrestled beneath the soil.

It’s a creepy place her husband goes to pray whenever he’s executed someone, but it’s a creepy place whose power she clearly respects!

And anyway, in this scene, what disturbs her more is that she feels the old gods have sent an ill omen, and here, in the middle of their power, she’s worried about what it means for her family, which is a very normal reaction to have, and she’s not the only one who is worried:

Catelyn wished she could share his joy. But she had heard the talk in the yards; a direwolf dead in the snow, a broken antler in its throat. Dread coiled within her like a snake, but she forced herself to smile at this man she loved, this man who put no faith in signs.

A Baratheon king on the way to see the Starks to ask Ned to be Hand after the last one was killed, just after her children find a direwolf dead of an antler in its throat. Yeah, she’s unsettled as she walks into a site of power for the same gods that sent that omen.

Trying to paint either of them as somehow evil for believing in the Faith of the Seven is odd. It’s fine if you’re like “Well I’m just critical of Fantasy Catholicism in general”, that’s a valid reading and clearly GRRM shares that feeling of “faith is great but organized religion is just as corrupt as every other huge organization.” But Catelyn is not pledged as a Silent Sister or Septa, she doesn’t even belong to a particularly religious family (the most pious Tully we hear of is all the way back during Maegor’s rule, Lucinda Broome Tully, as a matter of fact). Cat simply has faith and clings to it when she’s upset, something like 80% of the characters in this series do.

As for Alicent - again, you can make the argument that her family is super entangled in the Faith of the Seven a la the Medicis, and while you can argue that her religion is part of what pushes her to help kickstart the dance, due to Seven/Andal belief in male primogeniture, the First Men and Valyria also practice male primogeniture.

(the only Westerosi ethnic group that doesn’t is Dorne, and while the First Men believe a daughter should come before a brother, plenty of uncles usurp or attempt to usurp their nieces amongst the First Men - look at Alys Karstark. It’s a belief that’s clearly half theoretical, because all of Terros is fueled by violent patriarchal standards, it isn’t exclusive to the Southron lords).

Alicent making King’s Landing more outwardly Seven looking when the Targaryens have been ostensibly in the Faith for going on five generations now, is not really a crime you can ascribe to her. Rhaenyra’s marriage to Daemon is done in the fashion of Old Valyria, but like, even Rhaenyra has a Maester on her councils because including those involved with the Faith is important to the smallfolk of Westeros - so important they start two separate peasant uprisings when the Targaryens, and later the Lannisters, drift too far from their religion. The misogyny ingrained in the Seven and the Andal culture is not solely the responsibility of these two random women.

[fioiswriting]

Muña | one shot

Summary : Marrying your bastard nephew to mend fences between your families wasn't exactly what you had planned. But when you realise that Jace has grown into a strong and handsome man, you might be ready to rethink your plans.

Rating : Explicit, 18+ MDNI

Pairing : Jacaerys Velaryon x Aunt!Reader (Reader is Alicent and Visery’s daughter. She’s one year younger than Aegon)

TW : p in v sex, mommy kink, sub!Jace (kinda), Dom!Reader (but they both switch tbh), inappropriate use of the word muña, oral (f receiving), afab reader, incest, unprotected sex, not proofread

Words count : 8064

AN : hi everyone!! I’ve been very busy lately so I haven't had time to update BUT I’ve been working a bit on various fics. Sorry to all my Aemond girlies but today it’s time for some Jace x reader. It’s a fic I’ve written for my gf who’s turning into a Jace girlie 🤭 It's full of indecency and inappropriate things.

Also English is not my first language, so sorry for the grammar mistakes !! 

Enjoy 🖤

The gardens had become your refuge over the past few days. Under the shade of the trees, on the soft grass, you had found a peaceful haven away from the excitement caused by the arrival of your half-sister and her herd of bastards. The Red Keep made you feel suffocated. And seeing your mother pacing back and forth, running left and right, didn't help. You had to calm her down. You had to keep an eye on your older brother, making sure he didn't slip away into the maze of Flea Bottom for the umpteenth time. You had to hold your family together, and you were tired. 

You almost envied Daeron, in Old Town, away from the hustle and bustle of the court.

At least no one would think of looking for you where you were now. And you could enjoy a moment's respite, poring over the thick book you had borrowed from Aemond's library. Had he known that you had entered his room without warning, had he known that you had dared to disturb the perfect tidiness of his precious bookshelves, he would probably have threatened to feed you to Vhagar. But what he didn't know couldn't hurt him. Besides, you could perhaps find a way to pay him back later. 

For now, you just needed to be left alone.

You stretched out, arms reaching for the sky. The sun's rays crept through the leaves, their warmth leaving a pleasant sensation on your face. Summer was back and you were delighted. The gentle breeze that ruffled the corners of your book and occasionally lifted the silver curls around your face gave you a sense of freedom. You deftly kicked off your shoes and lay back for a moment, your eyes closed.

Footsteps echoed on the cobbled floor, and you sighed in annoyance. You didn't have to open your eyes to see who it was. You recognised his footsteps. So, you kept your eyes closed. With any luck, he would continue his way and leave you alone to find someone else to annoy.

"Hey, my favourite little sister," Aegon exclaimed as he landed heavily beside you, his body brushing against yours. You opened one eye to acknowledge him, then closed it again, your arms crossed behind your head. "Aren't you supposed to be keeping an eye on me?" he insisted when he saw you weren't answering him. "You know, make sure I don't run off or end up drunk somewhere…Stuff like that. Which our mother probably asked you to do."

A smile tugged at the corner of your lips. It was true that Aegon was terribly annoying. But of all your siblings, Aegon was still your favourite.

You resigned yourself to rolling onto your stomach, your chin resting on your hands and your head tilted sideways to face him.  "My dear brother," you replied sarcastically. "Unable to occupy yourself, as usual."  He rolled his eyes before reaching out to remove a leaf that had gotten caught in your hair. He subtly ran his fingers through one of your curls, his touch as light as a feather. "And why have you decided to come and disturb my moment of peace, tell me?"

He blew the leaf away and you watched as it flew away on the breeze. Your big brother's eyes shone with mischief. "Why would I need a specific reason to spend time with my favourite sister?" he added, and it was your turn to roll your eyes. He moved to lie next to you, his body practically pressed against yours. 

If you moved a few centimetres, your elbows would touch his. 

You'd always been inseparable, and the habit had stuck over time, even when the teenage years had driven you apart. But in those moments, you were like two children again, ready to run away from Septa lessons to get into mischief in the castle.

“Because you always have a reason for everything,” you replied, and he looked at you with a fake hurt look that was greatly exaggerated. With Aegon it was easy. It had always been easy.  He wasn't as serious as Aemond, he wasn't as strange as Helena, and he wasn't as far away as Daeron.

"I just wanted to make sure my little sister was all ready to meet her betrothed tonight." He paused. "And also, that she hadn't suddenly decided to become a pious woman and follow the path of the Seven." His voice lowered. You poked him in the ribs. "See? I'm a caring big brother. I care about you."

"Shut up, Aegon," you replied. He laughed. Then he rolled onto his back, arms crossed behind his head, one leg bent, and he closed his eyes. The golden rays caught in his long lashes made him look like an angel. 

Everything he wasn't. 

'Well?' He added. “Excited to see Jacaerys Strong?”

You sat cross-legged. The bracelets on your wrists clinkled. Aegon knew how much the idea horrified you. You had no desire to marry Jace, to sacrifice your freedom for your half-sister's bastard eldest son. You had no desire to leave the Red Keep, to follow him to Dragonstone and spend your life bearing him children. It was your mother and Rhaenyra's idea, of course.

The union of the eldest daughter of one and the eldest son of the other, as a way of repairing the rift that has grown between your families over time. 

As if you were destined to mend fences, to undo the mistakes of your own parents.

It wasn't that you hated Jace. But he was your older sister's son, a bastard who had pretensions he shouldn't have precisely because he was a bastard. He was the model son, the perfect son, the prodigy son, the one who always did everything right. It irritated you. He irritated you with his brown curls and his awkward posture.

 It wasn't fair that your father showered him with praise when he could barely remember your own name.

You stood up, smoothing the folds of your red dress to make yourself more presentable, and you caught your brother's eyes on your body, his eyes riveted on the thin fabric that revealed your delicate shapes. God, you loved to play with that. You knew how to get men wrapped around your finger with your sweet, innocent air, and Aegon was the first victim. You approached him and held out your arm to help him up, which he accepted by pulling himself to his feet heavily. After putting your shoes back on, you bent down to pick up the thick book in your arms. If you lost it, you could be sure that Aemond would be angry with you. And that was a risk you didn't want to take.

 "Perhaps you're right, lēkia. I'd better go and make myself more presentable for my betrothed. I wouldn't wish to disgrace our family." And with that you turned back, your hair swirling in the air behind you as Aegon watched you go with a small smile on his face. 

You knew how much Aegon hated being ignored, and even more so when it came from his little sister. You knew that he would return with his tail between his legs and a pleading look on his face. Between his constant whining and his dirty jokes, he gave you little respite, but it was a game that had developed between you; a game that, deep down, you enjoyed.

He was so predictable. 

“If I had known you liked strong men, I would have dyed my hair,” you heard him shout from behind you. Aegon wasn't the least bit shy. You shook your head, your silver locks bouncing.

"Get lost, you moron," you replied without even turning around.

The meal in honour of your betrothal promised to be exciting.

*** 

As soon as he saw you, your nephew rose to pull the chair beside him in a gallant gesture, and you found yourself watching him. Really watching him. His long, broad fingers on the back of the chair. His dark locks falling around his face. His precise features; his straight nose and deep eyes and square jaw. You hadn't realised how much your nephew had changed. He'd grown up too, and he was now a good head taller than you. 

He had become a strong man, indeed.

But you refused to admit that Jacaerys Strong had become quite pleasant to look at.

"Princess," he said, pushing the chair back for you to sit down. Fingers brushed the skin of your partly bare shoulders. The touch had lasted a fraction of a second, enough to make you wonder if it had been a figment of your imagination. 

"Lord Strong," you replied in greeting. If the words hurt him, Jace didn't show it. Always the perfect son. What would it take to push him over the edge? To crack the shell he'd built around himself? To shatter the image of the gentleman?

To your right, Aegon was already seated. He was holding a glass of wine between his fingers while Aemond seemed to be lecturing him about something you couldn't understand. The exchange between you and Jace had obviously not escaped his notice, and the corner of his mouth had already curled into a smirk. You knew what it meant. 

His silence was full of implications, louder than any words. 

Your mother had lectured him before dinner, warned him to behave because that was what was expected of him, and she was counting on you to make him obey. 

But your older brother didn't say anything. He simply raised his glass in your direction, his lips forming a word that you couldn't read. You weren't sure if you were relieved or disappointed.

You looked at your nephew. He had donned a gambison in the colours of the Velaryons, and you couldn't help but smile at the irony of the situation. 

After all, a bastard in blue was still a bastard.

"Enjoying King's Landing?" you asked your betrothed, in an attempt to start a conversation. His attention turned to you, his eyes widening slightly in surprise. 

“It's quite different from what I remember,” he replied, his voice a little lower than usual, his warm eyes meeting yours. “But of course it all depends on the company you are with."

You hesitated, suddenly unsure.

You hated what the sound of his voice did to you. You hated the way his eyes suddenly made you feel vulnerable. 

Fuck.

“It all depends on the company, indeed. And do you find yourself in good company tonight, nephew?" You gave him a defiant look, as if to judge his reaction. 

As if to unveil what he held within himself. 

“I'm not quite sure. Should I?” He paused, one eyebrow raised. He had taken the bait. “What would yousay?”

His eyes sparkled with something you couldn't quite put your finger on. It wasn't the malice you usually found in Aegon's eyes when he wanted to tease you. It wasn't the gleam that animated his mind when he came up with a new plan for you to cover. 

"I would say I'm in pretty strong company," you replied as you took your cup, a satisfied smile tugging at the corner of your lips that you hid behind the glass. 

You were cruel, giving him no respite, you knew. But you admired his composure. He hadn't cracked yet. 

You knew men who were less patient.

Jace leaned towards you. A slight tilt of the head, just to make sure you were the only one to hear him. As if he wanted to share a secret with you. “Careful, Aunt,” he began, his voice suddenly quieter than before. It was almost a whisper. “I might begin to think you enjoy my company.”

You know I don't, you wanted to reply, but Jace had already straightened up as if nothing had happened, his head turned away from you. Out of the corner of your eye you saw Baela give him a questioning look, and an unfamiliar sensation stirred in the pit of your stomach. 

An unpleasant heat. 

A hint of irritation.

You were annoyed, and you didn't know why.

“Look how handsome your betrothed has made himself for you,” Aegon sneered as he reached for the decanter and leaned in close to your ear. “A true Velaryon, isn't he?” He huffed.

You wanted to slap him on the thigh, make him swallow his mockery. 

“If you think he's so handsome, I can happily leave him to you,” you replied, and Aegon's eyes widened. You saw him take a sip of wine, and something deep inside you told you he probably wasn't opposed to the idea. His usual mischievous smile was hidden behind the wine glass, but there was no mistaking his eyes.

Aegon had that tendency to give himself away, and you could read him like an open book.

The meal proved to be as boring as you had imagined. Small talk exchanged over fake smiles. An illusory moment in which everything seemed to be going well for one evening.

You weren't fooled, and you knew it was all a facade. You knew your family well enough to understand that the slightest spark could set things alight. You knew your brothers well enough to realise that all it would take was a simple glance between them to liven up an evening they found dull.

You just hoped they wouldn't cause too much trouble tonight.

To your left, Jace was still deep in conversation with Baela. They had that kind of complicity that made your blood boil inside; a shared laugh that sounded in your ear like the squeaky music you hated. You frowned. It was you, his betrothed. It was you, not Baela, and you didn't understand why that statement was suddenly so important. 

After all, you despised this union. You hated Jace. You had no desire to promise him the rest of your life.

Jace was a bastard, and you deserved better.

So why did the sight of him touching Baela's hand cause a twinge of jealousy in your body?

His fingers brushed over hers absently. A light touch on her knuckles. 

And all you felt was fire.

And then. Then, your fingers slipped under the wooden table. 

You knew you were playing with fire. And you knew that if anyone paid too much attention to what you were doing, they would see that you weren't exactly behaving like the perfect Princess Targaryen you were supposed to be.

But you didn't care.

You let your fingers wander, running along the outside of Jace's thigh before moving up to settle in the hollow that connected his thigh to his hip. With a faint touch, your fingertips brushed the inside of his thigh, and then lower, tracing small circles through the fabric that was already beginning to tighten. 

Jace almost choked. 

He spat out the contents of his glass, his dark gaze fixed on you. Everyone had fallen silent, their heads turned towards him. Rhaenyra's eyebrows were furrowed in concern.

And you hadn't removed your hand. 

An innocent smile lit up your face, your eyes sparkling with mischief. You wondered if Aegon could read you. If he could see that look on your face, so similar to his own. That distinctive feature you shared. 

Deciding to play with your prey a little longer, you put on your best fake concerned face, pretending to be worried about his health.

"Are you all right, Jacaerys?" you asked, your voice a little higher than usual as your nails dug into the fabric of his breeches. Not to hurt him, of course. Just enough to wake a certain part of him, just enough to remind him that you were his betrothed.

He cleared his throat and coughed again.

“I swallowed wrong,” he replied. 

Your fingers crept a little higher, trying to explore his upper thigh, where you knew your nephew would be sensitive. You didn't want to be rational tonight, you wanted to let the fire take over and consume you. 

You wanted to let the sleeping dragon within you awaken.

The taste of the forbidden was divine, and the heat spreading through your lower belly was too delicious to stop now.

"Be careful, mandianna. We're not married yet." you said.  We're not married yet and look where I've got my fingers. You kept your thoughts to yourself. "I wouldn't want to find myself a widow already," you replied in High Valyrian, amused, and Jace looked at you with his big brown eyes, somewhere between anger and excitement, embarrassment and curiosity. 

Under the table, out of sight, your hand brushed the stretched fabric where you could read the confirmation of what he was feeling, the manifestation of his desire.

He was hard.

Perfect.

It was you who provoked this. 

He responded to your touch.

You felt a familiar breath on the back of your neck and realised Aegon was leaning against you again. He was pretending to serve you some of the vegetables that had just been brought in for the starter, taking the opportunity to whisper in your ear as he did so well. "Try to be more discreet, little sister," he chuckled softly, his voice nothing more than a whisper to make sure no one heard you. Discreetly, he nodded to where your hand still rested on your nephew's thigh. He tilted his head. "Rhaenyra is right in front of us. Do you think she can see what you're doing to her son under the table?"

He put on his best disinterested face. As if the words exchanged between you were nothing more than banalities. 

As if he weren't commenting on the indecent deeds you were doing under the table, unworthy of a girl of your rank.

"Shut up, Aegon," you replied, trying to keep a straight face. You didn't want him drawing any more of your family's attention to you, especially when you hadn't finished playing.

Your big brother gave you a knowing wink, as if to promise you that your secret was safe with him.

And you decided to continue entertaining yourself with the new game you'd invented.

You were bold, and you decided that if Jace didn't already know it, he would find out soon enough.

*** 

It wasn't that Jace was disappointed with his betrothal. You were divine, and the dress you wore made you so regal that he couldn't keep his attention anywhere but on your body, on your cleavage so gracefully offered to his gaze.

It was precisely why he had turned to Baela, why he had tried to distract himself with their conversation, why he had desperately tried to find something else to hold on to.

Because you were making him lose his footing. And that was a feeling he hated.

No, Jace did not regret his betrothal. You were everything a man could want; you were beautiful, you were regal, you were clever, and above all, you were a Targaryen. A princess. The king's daughter.

The only problem was you were distant and elusive.

Jace remembered your pretensions and mockeries from his childhood. He remembered the little brat you were, following in your older brother's footsteps. He remembered a little girl with a strong temper, who knew what she wanted. He remembered the pranks, not just the ones he'd taken part in, like the Pink Dread, but the ones that had turned against him because of you and Aegon, too.

It was clear that the little girl you had once been, taller than him, with long silver curls and an air of self-assurance far too confident for her young age, had grown into a beautiful young woman. 

And that was something Jace hadn't considered.

He couldn't concentrate on his conversation with Baela, not when your fingers were digging through the linen of his breeches into the flesh of his thigh, as if to remind him to whom he had been promised.  

Your fingers, slender, light, burning against his inner thigh. 

He clenched his jaw.

All around him, the words and faces of the guests mingled in a swirl of sound and colour. Fuck.

Fuck.

His breeches were really becoming too tight.

You'd dared to do that. You'd dared to slip your fingers under the table, in front of everyone, and Jace didn't know whether to admire your audacity or wrap his fingers around your wrist and force you to take them off. 

Suddenly he felt hot, a familiar warmth spreading between his loins. 

He wasn't sure he could get up, not with his member pulsing between his thighs. 

Fuck. You weren't supposed to make him feel like this. He wasn't supposed to feel such a desire for you when you weren't officially married.

This dinner was about officially declaring your betrothal, not consummating a union not yet pronounced.

He was trying to calm down. He tried to ground himself back into reality. Perhaps by staring intently at the contents of his plate he could ignore the sensation of your fingers rising dangerously high; the desperate need to finally have your fingers wrapped around his manhood.

His knees slammed into the table in a sudden movement.

Your fingers had just brushed the bulge that had formed between his thighs. 

And he needed more, infinitely more.

You couldn't have the cruelty to arouse such lust in him and then leave him like that. He would never forgive you.

"Stop that," he growled in your direction, low enough for no one else to hear. 

But you still had that damn innocent smile, that damn audacity to act as if nothing had happened. 

"I don't know what you're talking about, mandianna." Nephew. The sound of the High Valyrian rolling off your tongue sent a wave of heat between his legs. Seven hells, you were going to be the death of him. 

He wanted more. 

He needed more. 

More of your fingers around him, more of your tongue against his length, more of that innocent look on your face as you knelt before him, more of your tight cunt.

Jace was on the verge of losing it. You'd made him a slave to his own desire. You had closed your claws around him and he knew there was no turning back now.

“If you play with fire too much, you might get burned, muña," Jace retorted, leaning towards you, and he felt the imperceptible movement of your hand twitching at the threat. Aunt.

Despite his dwindling strength, King Viserys tried to make a speech about family, betrothal, and a whole host of other undoubtedly honourable values, but neither you nor Jace paid any attention. You were caught up in your own game.

Then Jace stood up, forcing you to remove your hand. 

You could see he was uncomfortable, for you knew where to look, for you knew what you had done. 

You knew he had a painful erection between his thighs, and it was all because of you.

But you could only admire your nephew's composure. 

“To my uncles, Prince Aegon and Prince Aemond. I have fond memories of our shared childhood.” His glass between his fingers, he raised it in the direction of his uncles, then turned to you. "And to my sweet and beautiful bride-to-be, who I'm sure will never cease to surprise me with her daring and surprising side. May our marriage be filled with joy and satisfaction".

The toasts continued, as did the meal. The servants had brought the rest of the dishes consisting of steaming meat and tasty garnishes. It was almost too joyous, almost too happy to be real. As if there was a threat lurking somewhere in the corner.

But Jace still had to teach you a lesson.

The music started, the sound of instruments filling the room. Jace apologised to Baela and walked over to his aunt. His other aunt. Your sister. 

And you felt the anger return; the same inner turmoil as before. 

Jace had held out his hand to Helaena and led her to dance a little further away. You immediately exchanged a questioning look with your brother, who had also stared at Jace in disbelief as he had walked away on your little sister's arm.

"So?" Aegon began. "It seems your betrothed didn't appreciate your little game?" You glared at him, but he just scoffed. "If he changes his mind... You know I like it." 

You wondered if you could do the same. You wondered if you could ask Aegon to dance and if Jace would feel the same bubbling inside him, the same jealousy coursing through his veins.

You hated that feeling. 

You shouldn't feel that kind of emotion, especially not for him.

You obviously didn't see it, too focused on your own annoyance, but Jace kept glancing in your direction, as if to make sure you saw him. 

He wanted to make you jealous. He wanted to fuel the feeling he'd identified in you. He wanted to catch you at your own game. And one thing was certain, Jace hadn't played all his cards yet.

Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

After a moment that seemed an eternity, your betrothed returned to sit beside you, Helena going back to her own seat. You were less and less able to hide your annoyance, and no doubt Jace noticed, for he leaned towards you, a satisfied look on his face. "Your sister is very sweet," he murmured. He knew very well that this simple phrase would be enough to send you over the edge. 

You liked attention. You liked compliments. You liked to be praised. 

You said nothing back. But Aegon had his trademark grin, the one that stretched his lips when he had a devious plan, and he was already getting up on the pretext of serving Baela some wine so he could whisper in his nephew's ear.  "I know my little sister can be particularly demanding.” He paused. “And difficult to tame. So if you ever need any advice... Or demonstrations…"

Jace was fuming, but he knew he had to keep his cool. It was Aegon, typical Aegon, to push his buttons, to succeed in making him suddenly unsure of himself, to make his mind confused. His fingers closed around his cup, his jaw clenched, and it took all his self-control not to throw the contents in his uncle's face. 

He didn't even look at Aegon, who had returned to his seat with a triumphant smile.

But you felt something under the table. Something slipped between the folds of your dress, along your skin, discreetly, lightly, a delicious touch against your skin that made you want more.

Your eyes widened.

Jace. 

Jace the perfect son. Jace the model son. 

Jace slipping his fingers under your dress, touching the skin of your thigh, rising dangerously high where you could already feel the wetness forming in the crease between your thighs. 

This was the moment he snapped, you knew it. You hadn't heard your brother's words, you had only seen him lean towards your betrothed, but you knew he must have struck a chord with Jacaerys Velaryon. That he had probably touched his weak spot. 

Or perhaps you were just getting your comeuppance. After teasing him, after making him hard and desperate.

Jace moved his hand, tracing the space where your skin was soft and tender, all the way up your thigh, with a slow, gentle touch. His hand moved further towards the centre of you, where you were sensitive, and he brushed against your crotch. He didn't even need to apply any pressure with his fingertips to tell that you were wet.

Your hips automatically moved towards his hand in search of more contact, causing you to wiggle in your chair. All you wanted to do was grab his wrist, force him to slide his fingers under the fabric separating you, force him to touch you right here. But you were still at dinner and the game was becoming far too dangerous. 

"I told you to be careful," Jace whispered as he withdrew his fingers and resumed his serious gaze, his fingers fidgeting on the wood of the table. “Two can play at this game.”

And then perhaps the Seven heard you. Perhaps they were offering you a way out. To be honest, you weren't sure if it was a miracle or a curse. For Aemond had risen, and he had done what he did best; he had made a mocking and provocative speech to his nephews. 

Everything happened quickly. Jace and Luke leapt to their feet to answer the provocation, Aemond and Aegon were ready to fight back, and even Baela and Rhaena were prepared to defend their family. You had no time to move, no time to react, for dinner was already over, and so was your little game of cat and mouse with Jace.

This was your way out, you knew it. You were tired of sitting around a table listening to boring speeches. And the entertainment that had consisted of sliding your fingers under the table to push Jacaerys Strong over the edge had now turned against you.

"I shall rest," you warned your mother, who was deep in conversation with Rhaenyra, her features wrinkled with worry. "Tonight's events have left me somewhat tired. And I think a night's rest would do me a world of good."  She nodded, stroking your hair, and you knew instinctively what she was thinking. Always the perfect daughter.

And as you passed through the heavy door of the dining room, you hurried off in a direction that was not that of your room.

Oh, but if she knew.

*** 

Thankfully, the corridor was deserted. You didn't have the slightest desire to run into a guard who would ask you where you were going or escort you to your room for security reasons. 

Your steps were as discreet as possible on the stone floor, like those of a small mouse. You moved quickly, stealthily, almost on tiptoe.

Only the crackle of the fire broke the heavy silence between the cold walls, where the dancing shadows of the flames distorted.

You slowed your pace. You had a doubt. You weren't sure which door was the one you were looking for. 

And then suddenly, as you reached the end of the corridor, you felt a hand grab your wrist and pull you against the wall, away from prying eyes. A strong grip, as if it didn't want to let you vanish again.

Jace was holding you between the wall and his own body. Despite the darkness, you could see his eyes shining in the candlelight, fueled by a devouring hunger you didn't know he possessed. He stared at you for a moment. His eyes in yours. A tension hung between you, burning, ready to consume you both, and you were completely willing.

Gently yet firmly he turned your body. Your chest against the cold wall, your back against his warm chest, and you pulled your hips back to provoke him. You wouldn't succumb so easily, not to Jacaerys.

He pressed himself against you, moving his pelvis forward so you could feel his hard member against the top of your buttocks.

"Do you feel what you're doing to me?" Another thrust of his hips. "Can you feel the effect you're having on me?" He pressed harder against you. Through the layers of fabric between you, you could almost feel him throb. Gods, he seemed big. "Teasing me all evening... Such a tease, aren't you?"

If it wasn't the consequence of your own actions.

You stifled a moan with your arm so as not to attract any patrolling guards. What you were doing was dangerous. At any moment you could be caught. At any moment you could be in big trouble.

But you couldn't stop now. Not when the best was yet to come.

You moved again, seeking more contact, seeking to make Jace harder and more painful than he already was, and you turned your head to challenge him. "What if it's you who's just too weak?"

You felt his hoarse breath against the back of your neck, at the base of your hair. He seemed to be hesitating, thinking. About what he was going to do to you, about what he was going to do to make sure you were responsible for your actions. Again he turned you so that you had your back to the wall, facing him, and you recognised the gleam of desire in his eyes.

Towering over you, he lowered his gaze to you, your faces inches apart. For a moment he let his eyes devour you, wandering from your eyes to your lips, from your lips to your breasts, visible through the fabric of your dress. He wanted to keep this image printed behind his eyelids; your half-open lips, your pleading gaze, like that of a little girl caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

You looked ravishing.

"Tell me to stop," Jace murmured. And you knew it was the sensible thing to do, you knew it was better to stop everything now, while it was still possible to turn back. For you weren't married yet. 

But you had no desire to be responsible.

His fingers curled around a lock of your hair and tucked it behind your ear, waiting for your answer before continuing.

"What if I don't want you to stop?" you replied, your eyes locked with his. He felt your hand against his cheek as you detailed his face, tracing his well-sculpted cheeks, and he longed for more contact, his face seeking the warmth of your palm. 

You put your arms around his neck to draw him closer, to close the distance between your lips, to feel his warmth against your body.

To quench this desire, this need that was becoming uncontrollable.

And your lips met in a feverish, urgent kiss. He pressed you further against the wall, his fingers running down your sides, brushing against the breasts he so craved.

He found your hips and his fingers worked frantically up the bottom of your dress in a crumpled ball of fabric to reach your core. "Look at how wet you are." His fingers brushed your folds through your undergarments. "All of this just for teasing me." He pressed one hand against the wall, still leaning against you, but not giving you what you wanted: his hand had stopped, and you tried to wiggle your hips to force him to continue, to force him to give you what you wanted.

Deep down, you loved the way he was losing control. 

You loved that side of Jace you didn't know. 

So you grabbed his wrist, guiding his fingers under the last barrier that separated his skin from yours. 

The sensation was delicious. 

The touch of his warm fingers against your folds sent a wave of heat from your lower belly through your entire body. You didn't want him to stop. "Here." You breathed against his lips. "This is where muña needs you." Aunt. He tensed beneath you, and you wondered if it was the ambiguity of the family tie, uttered in High Valyrian, that had such an effect on him. 

You let your lips brush against his.

He collected your wetness on his fingers, exploring the slit between your folds up to your little pearl. You were soaking wet. And you desperately needed him inside you. 

His fingers slid down to your opening where he applied a little pressure with the tip of his index finger without ever penetrating you.

"I know," he murmured, drawing small circles before abandoning your opening to return to your bud. "But I can't give you what you want now."

You whimpered under his cruelty, against his lips. 

You could see through his game. 

He wanted to make you beg, but you weren't the kind to beg. You were the one with the power and you were going to show him.

"We shouldn't stay here," you muttered, rubbing yourself against your nephew's hand. "If someone catches us..."

Jace nodded his head in agreement, withdrawing his fingers glistening with your juice, which you guided to his own lips, spreading the stickiness against his lips. 

"If you're a good boy, I'll let you taste me."

And with that, he pulled you into his room.

*** 

Lying on the bed where you'd pushed him, Jace watched as you removed your dress, his prominent erection stretching the fabric of his breeches. The dress fell to the floor, forming a red puddle that you stepped over, one foot after the other.

Your nephew couldn't look away from your hypnotic figure, but his eyes inevitably wandered back to your breasts. You'd seen him glancing at your cleavage all evening, you could tell he wanted to run his fingers over your soft flesh, his lips over your nipples, and now that you were completely naked in front of him, you could see the unmistakable desire in his eyes.

You walked up to him. He clenched his jaw when he saw you. You, and the perfection of your shape, your little pointed nipples, the tantalising path that led from your chest to the space between your thighs where he knew you were soaked for him. 

The flat of your hand pressed against his chest, forcing him to lie down between the pillows. He complied, never breaking the eye contact between the two of you, and you took your place on top of him, your legs on either side of his body. His husky breath escaped through his parted lips, lightly caressing your face.

You were naked, he was still dressed, and you had infinite power over him.

You lowered your hips against his covered crotch, the essence of your desire staining the linen of his breeches as your hips began to move slowly.

You leaned down and traced his jaw with the tip of your lips, planting kisses along his throat. Underneath you, his member twitched. Mimicking what he'd done earlier, you let your fingers rest on the painful bulge between his legs and whispered, "I know." You applied a little more pressure, drawing a moan from between his lips. "I know it's painful. But I can't give you what you want right now."

Jace growled. He wanted to turn you over, slam you against the mattress, pound into you and make you swallow your insolence. But he wanted to see how far you were willing to go. He wanted to see you keep control for a while longer.

You deftly undid his breeches to make it easier for your hand to slip through. You found his hard member, warm and heavy between your fingers.

It was a new sensation. As a model princess, you'd never ventured into this territory, saving your maidenhood for your future husband.

But Jace was your future husband.

You closed your fingers around him, your thumb collecting the sticky beads that had already formed at the tip of his cock and spreading it along his length. 

"First I want to come on your tongue," your lips articulated against the skin of his throat as the hand that was in his breeches moved up his torso to close around his jaw, your thumb caressing his lower lip to emphasise your words. "Will you let me?" you added. In response, he let the tip of his tongue slip between his lips, touching the pad of your finger. "Let me show you," he whispered.

And indeed, Jace worked devotedly between your thighs, his tongue tracing the length of your slit, drinking in your essence as it flowed from your entrance like a delicious nectar. His tongue tickled your little knob, his thumbs spreading your folds to gain access to the treasure he coveted.

One of his fingers found your hole clenching around nothing, tracing small circles against it to force you to voice what you wanted. "Do you need me here?" he whispered against your flesh, the vibration of his deep voice sending shivers through your core. Your hands buried themselves in the dark mass of his hair and you moved your hips against his face, urging him to maintain the contact of his mouth against you. "Use your words, muña," he added, despite his nose being buried between your folds.

When you gave him the answer he was waiting for, he let a finger enter you in a delicious stretch. You held back a moan, your fingers digging deeper into his hair, not caring if you were hurting him or not. He continued to explore your cunt with his tongue, like a thirsty man, like a devoted man.

You wouldn't last long, your release close.

Jace then added a second finger. The sensation of his fingers inside you, against that rough spot, combined with that of his tongue between your folds, against your pearl, was simply divine. 

"Go on," Jace started, but you immediately cut him off. "Shut up." You didn't want him to speak. You wanted him to continue with his damn tongue, with his broad fingers inside you. You didn't want him to stop. "I am... I am close."

And your climax washed over your entire body like a wave of warmth. Your legs closed around your nephew's face.

It was probably one of the best sensations you'd ever experienced.

Still between your legs, his fingers gripping your thighs, Jace collected your arousal on his tongue, sending shivers of overstimulation down your spine, and your whole body shuddering in a brutal spasm. You straightened up, knees still bent, your hand returning to your nephew's hair to guide him over you, his face close to yours. You stroked his cheek gently, as if to let him know he was a good boy, and your thumb picked up the sticky fluid that was smeared all over the bottom of his face.

You were both out of breath. You from the intense release you'd felt, he from the dedication he'd shown.

A smirk formed at the corner of your lips, and you pressed your thumb between his lips to ensure he didn't waste anything. Jace tilted his face close to yours. "You taste divine," he breathed, turning your cheeks red. "But now I need to be inside you."

His fingers slipped between your thighs, where your centre was pulsing, still far too sensitive from the ministrations he had given you. 

"You can give me another, can't you?" He asked, and you nodded, so sore.

After he undressed, Jace pushed on your shoulders to make you lie down, but you skilfully changed positions, taking him by surprise.

You were unwilling to give him the power he wanted, not yet.

Straddling him, you moved your hips to rub your crotch against his erect manhood, spreading your wetness along his length. Beneath you, his torso rose and fell rapidly, and the grunts he let out conveyed his need for more. So your hand sought his hard member, guiding it to your entrance without letting it penetrate you. "So?" you asked playfully. "Do you think you've been a good boy ? Do you think you deserve to be inside me?" You wanted to make him beg, and Jace could see right through you. "To be the first?" you added, lowering your voice slightly, as if you were telling him a secret.

But he wasn't sure he could hold out much longer.

So he capitulated, giving you the defeat you'd been waiting for.

"Yes." he breathed. "Please." Your victorious smile stretched your lips and you guided him further against you, pressing his erection against your opening. Fuck. He was massive.

He was about to breathe a sigh of relief, ready to feel your velvet walls tighten around him, but you blocked his hip movement. 

It wasn't enough.

"Please who?" you asked, your fingers moving back and forth around his manhood. He glared at you. You were gloating. "Please, muña," he finally begged, and you gave him what he wanted.

You lowered your hips to let him slide into you in a long thrust that stretched you around him. He was indeedmassive, and the new sensation of having him inside you was a delicious mix of dull pain and burning pleasure. You stood still for a moment to adjust to his presence inside you, your core throbbing around him. The initial pinch gradually dissipated, replaced by a pleasant sensation that sent a wave of warmth through your body. 

And then he began to thrust in and out, pushing up to sink into you. "Fuck...fuck, you're tight," Jace growled. Your loose hair cascaded down either side of your face, tickling his cheeks, and he caught it in a messy bun to hold it behind your head. 

You could feel the same pleasure as before building up in your lower abdomen. 

Gods, you could feel him so intensely. So deeply too. Bouncing rhythmically against that particular part of you. 

You buried your head in his neck, his woody scent filling your nostrils.

It was primal. Animal, between the two of you. All that mattered was the here and now. Your body against his, the sweat beading between you, the moans filling the room.

Jace tugged at your hair, causing you to throw your head back, freeing access to your chest, and he straightened up into a sitting position, his member still deep inside you, to find your breast. He buried his face in it and your hand instinctively found the back of his head to stroke his hair. Jace's lips traced a trail of kisses down the valley between your breasts, following the curve of your flesh before closing around your nipple, which he sucked gently. One of his arms wrapped around you to hold you tight against him, his other hand resting on the breast he wasn't devouring.

You stayed like that for a while, your legs on either side of him, his mouth seeking solace in your breasts, the divine sensation of being full, with him inside you, in the softness of the night, the flames rocking your lovemaking.

One of Jace's arms finally found your back and in one swift movement he reversed position. He desperately needed more, sensing that he wouldn't last long. 

He pinned you beneath him, against the mattress, your legs immediately closing around him and the pace quickened.  His thrusts became more messy, more sloppy because of your two combined essences.  "You're mine, now" he grunted, and you shivered. His index and middle fingers wandered between your folds, caressing the spot where you were joined before moving to the pearl hidden at the top of your slit. "Am I?" you replied teasingly. You could feel him throbbing inside you. "Then be a good boy now and give muña your seed."

That was the spark that ignited the fire. Jace quickened the rhythm of his hips, his fingers still buried between your folds, his movements erratic. With each of his thrusts, you felt his member hitting that sensitive spot against your spongy inner walls. You tensed and for the second time that evening, your release flooded your entire body.  You were followed by your nephew as Jace spilled into you, his seed painting white ropes against your womb.

He lay still inside you for a moment, his cock softening as you both caught your breath, your hands in his dark curls, his head at the nape of your neck. 

You winced as he withdrew from your still sensitive core, his now cold seed flowing between your thighs. Jace dropped down beside you, satisfied. Then you turned to him. You grabbed his wrist one last time and guided his fingers to your centre, where your folds were smeared with the remnants of your lovemaking.

"Look how much you've left inside me," you whispered into his ear, making Jace collect his own seed on his fingertips and push it back into you. "I'm going to keep it all inside me, would you like that, sweet boy?" you whispered again.

And Jace pulled you against him to kiss you, his member stirring between his thighs, against you. It was true that he'd given you the upper hand this time. But he was ready to show you what he could do. You snuggled up against his chest, tucking your head under his chin.

"Perhaps…We should bring the wedding date forward."

And he smiled.