-Benjicot Blackwood X Arryn!Reader

-Benjicot Blackwood x Arryn!Reader

{Benjicot doesn’t mind getting his hands bloodied if it means protecting your honour}

word count- 1.7k

!CW!//vulgar language, descriptions of blood// Enjoy my lovelies💕

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The Vale was all harsh winds and rain since the sun had first begun to rise above the horizon, a thick layer of fog rolls through the high mountains and over the hills creating a rather eerie atmosphere around the courtyard of Raventree hall.

You sit on the balcony that overlooks the training grounds with your sister, Jeyne Arryn, protected from the light rain by the stoney overhang. You both had been asked to unite your houses for a few days in hopes of getting the men more accustomed to the sword and shield a little faster.

It had been going great in all honesty, they seemed to have lifted each other spirits despite the pressure of the looming war.

“Is your friend down there?” Jeyne smirks, looking over at you with a playful gleam in her eyes.

She takes joy in the way your eyes widen ever so slightly, how you move away from the edge to slouch back into your chair. “No, not yet.” You mumble, crossing your arms over your chest in a harrumph.

You roll your eyes at Jeyne and the sound of her chuckles, smiling into her cup whilst she continues to tease you. Her jabs are soon cut off by the sound of men cheering and metal clanging together in excitement.

You immediately lean back over the stone railing of the balcony, looking down at the group of men searching for…

Benjicot. He had made quite a name for himself over the past few moons, his way with a sword was… wild to put it more kindly. He was a madman on the battlefield, charging in with absolutely no fear, the complete opposite of the shy boy you grew up with.

For a small second your gazes meet. He waves softly, sending you a sweet smile which you happily return before he’s dragged away to the training yard by his friends.

The sound of your sister’s giggling snaps you out of the moment, your face twisting into a small frown. “Do not start.” You huff, slouching back into the chair with a pout.

Your sister makes small conversation, keeping it light as you watch over the training. Benjicot found it hard to stay focused, his mind drifting over to the fact that you were watching him with your pretty eyes.

The pair of you shared plenty of fleeting moments together, lingering touches and sweet whispered words. You danced along the line of friends and something more but neither of you took the leap, too scared of ruining the deep friendship you have.

Benjicot sits on a tree stump, cleaning his sword with a rag as his eyes glance between the balcony where you sit and the men around the training yard. He was miles away, thinking about how he could see you tonight… perhaps a walk through the garden… or maybe sneaking you into the kitchens.

His mind soon gets away from him, all of his thoughts consumed by you… but then again when are they not?

The sound of two rowdy men snaps him out of his trance, his expression immediately darkening with his brows pinched together tightly. They sound drunk as they speak horrid nonsense about women, barely able to hold their swords let alone stand on two feet.

“I’d fuck her… bet her cunt is tight too, ey?” The taller one says, harshly nudging the other man's shoulder almost sending him tumbling to the floor.

Benjicots fingers tighten around the hilt of the sword, his knuckles going white with anger. He hopes for their sake that they’re not talking about you. “Mhm… bet shes a squealer.” The other man agrees, the pair of them chuckling.

The sound goes right through Ben, his blood running cold as he watches them cast their predatory gaze over to you as you lean curiously over the edge of the balcony.

The sword that he was cleaning drops to the floor with a dull thud. He acts way before he thinks, his body moving without hesitation and before he knows it he’s coiling back his arm, colliding his tight fist down against one of the taller drunkards face as the other scurries off.

A crimson colour stains his knuckles, the blood warm and wet in between his fingers. The adrenaline overshadows the pain that shoots down his arm, reducing it to a mere tingle that he’ll surely feel later on. He watches the fool drop to the damp, cold ground, writhing in pain whilst clutching his nose as it weeps a thick red.

Benjicot opens and closes his hand, trying to lessen the ache. “Perhaps next time you’ll hold your tongue.” He sneers before storming off with a mean glare that makes everyone step out of his way.

You had watched the whole scene unfold, worry immediately settling in the pit of your stomach, etching across your face. Your sister tells you to ‘stay put’ however her words fall upon deaf ears as you rush back inside, running down the halls and the twists and turns of the castle.

The Maesters chambers are where you find Benjicot. His aunt walks out of the room with a displeased expression, however, the candlelight gives away the amusement that flickers through her dark eyes.

She greets you with a warm smile, nodding her head. You return the action before slipping into the room, your gaze immediately finding his as he gives you a sheepish smile.

“Hey…” his words break through the silence, the crackle of the hearth taking over once more as you wordlessly walk deeper into the room.

His hand was submerged in a dark oak basin, the water inside had long turned murky with a minty almost medicinal aroma. You sit down on the chair adjacent to his own, brows pinched together in concern.

“Where’s the Maester?” You ask, looking at him with a small smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

“Gone to get some sort of balm… I don’t need it.” His words make you tut, shaking your head as you watch him pull his hand out of the water. He seethes a little in pain, teeth clenched.

You reach over for a cloth, drying off his hand but whilst being careful to not cause him any more discomfort, he was already shifting and squirming in his chair.

“What even happened?” You sigh, holding his injured hand against your lap. Your thumb ever so gently caresses his palm in such a way that it makes his mind spin and his heart skip a beat.

He swallows, clearing his throat. “They— they were making… distasteful… comments towards you. I won’t repeat them.” He tells you, shaking his head firmly.

“How silly… look at your hands over some words.” You scold lightly, although there was no real bite to your soft tone. You couldn’t be, in fact, the thought of him defending you like this sends a pleasant warmth blooming through your chest. Although you wouldn’t tell him that, for his own sake.

“I’m fine, I have no regrets. They deserved it.” He states, watching the way you bring his knuckles into the candlelight to assess the damage.

They were red raw, the skin split open at the tips of each knuckle save for his thumb. A purplish colour tints the delicate skin, the shade darker around the cuts then fading off into a more dull colour. It certainly was not fine.

“You should be more careful.” Your words are hushed, whispered into the air, so soft that if he weren’t sitting so close to you he probably wouldn’t hear you. His eyes meet your own once more, admiring the way the candles cast an orangey light across your pretty features.

His fingers itch to reach out and tuck a loose curl behind your ear, to graze the back of his fingers along to warm cheek. But he refrains, even the mere thought has his stomach swarming with nervous butterflies.

You take another thin sheet of cloth, edges ragged with loose threads and the fabric an off-white colour. He looks at you with a quizzical expression, watching you dip one end of the cloth into the basin.

Before he can ask any questions you’re already leaning closer to him, knees bumping together. Your hand reaches out to ever so gently cup his jaw, fingers curling against his cheek to hold his head still whilst you wipe away a small mud stain just under his eye.

“Thank you…” he says, breath hitching in his throat at the way your thumb brushes along his warm cheek.

“No, I should be thanking you, really.” Your words make him smile, his eyes softening. “Thank you,” You add, your eyes searching his own.

He doesn’t speak, he can’t, not with you so close to him. He fears that he might have ruined the moment when silence wraps around the room. He suddenly doesn’t know what to do with himself or if he should move the hand that rests upon your lap.

He lets out a small noise in the back of his throat, trying to will the words from his lips but none come and it only serves to cause his mind to spiral, cursing himself and his inability to speak.

The feeling of your lips against his cheek brings him back, his worries and fears ebbing away until the only thing that was on his mind is your flowery perfume and the softness of the kiss. He finally lets out a breath. His hand rests against your knee as you pull back, a pang of disappointment hitting his chest.

“You don’t need to thank me… I’d never let anyone slander your name, but either way, you are welcome.” He finally manages to speak, the words tumbling out of his lips rather ungracefully.

You entwine your fingers with his own, minding his roughened knuckles, holding his hand ever so gently with your own. His thumb caressing the inside of your wrist, the calluses feel strangely nice.

“Perhaps afterwards we could walk through the gardens?” The suggestion makes his heart skip a beat, the image was already vivid in his mind, walking arm in arm with you.

“Of course, if it would please you, my lady.” He replies, hoping the words sound more graceful than before.

You hum in agreement, nodding your head. Your warm hands still in his own, the kiss lingering on his cheek, your knees pressing against either side of his own and your honeyed gaze still upon him… he realises he’s completely doomed, you hold his heart in the palm of his hand.

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Helloo can I request a sweet smut with aegon x reader where they've been apart for some time due to work and when they come together they just want to be intimate with one another

-Aegon Targaryen x Wife!Reader

{Aegon’s patience has been wearing thin, he soon reaches a breaking point}

!!-18//MDNI-!! Sorry this took so long I simply cannot catch a break, enjoy my lovelies!! 💕

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Since the moment Aegon sat down on his council chair he wanted to leave, to abandon the whole damned meeting and let the fools figure it out for themselves. What was the point of even being there if they overlooked everything he said?— if they did not take him seriously?

It angered him beyond belief, the way they looked at him, the snide remarks that left a stupid pain in his chest no matter how much he tried to ignore it. He sits there bored and pissed off, spinning the marble against the wooden table as their words blend into one another making one big dull noise.

He feels silly, ignored, and he doesn’t enjoy it— so he leaves, slamming his fist onto the table so hard that it causes each of the council members to jump in their seats. The marble rolls off of the table, smashing onto the stone floor as the door shuts behind him with a loud thud.

Aegon bites the inside of his cheek, trying to cool his temper down before entering your bedchambers- the last thing he wanted to do was sour your day with his mood, but it doesn’t work he can’t seem to quell the frustration that coils around his already tense body.

It's your laugh. The sound of your laughter, light and merry calms him. It clashes so greatly with the heavy weight of his heart, with the turbulence in his mind. He stands there for a moment, just outside your shared bedchambers, his anger evaporating as he listens to the heavenly sound.

With a deep breath, he opens the door entering with a relieved sigh. His lilac eyes meet your own with a tender expression that softens his features, watching your dressers ready you for bed, taking your necklace and earrings off with great care.

“You’re dismissed… leave us.” Aegon commands, waving a dismissive hand to the two ladies. They both bow courtly before leaving the room with knowing smirks gracing their lips.

You stand there however with furrowed brows, tilting your head in confusion as he draws closer to you. “I’m still in my day clothes?” You state only receiving a chuckle in return.

“I’m aware.” He smirks, admiring the way the silk of your dress hugs your curves. It drives him to madness and he can’t help but grasp at your hips as he continues to drink in the sight of you. "You don't need your dressers to get you ready for bed... I can take care of that for you."

The realisation hits all so suddenly, taking your breath away and the only response you can give him is a small ‘Oh’ which only makes him chuckle once more against the soft skin of your shoulder.

It had been far too long since he had taken you, all the interrupted moments and the long busy days had caused a searing ache between your thighs that you had tried to sate with your fingers, but nothing could compare to Aegon— he knew you like the back of his hand, he filled the spaces you couldn’t.

“What has spurred this one?” You ask, tone hushed and breathless as he leaves a trail of warm kisses along your neck and the dip of your shoulder. It wasn’t a complaint, far from it, you just wanted to know whether or not he burned for you the way you did for him.

And gods did he. Aegon's fingers work at the laces of your dress with practised ease, his touch feather-light and yet exhilarating. He watches you through the reflection of the mirror, the way the silk of your dress ripples down your body like a waterfall until it pools around your feet leaving you vulnerable to him.

“Do I need an excuse to want to touch you like this?” He whispers, lips grazing against the curve of your jaw. It’s all so dizzying in such an embarrassing way.

You lean back against him, enjoying the way his fingers trace along your waist causing your skin to break out in gooseflesh. He mumbles something about how ‘sensitive you are’ into the crook of your neck and you can feel the smirk that teeters on his lips when a breathless moan escapes you.

“No of course not— I’ve missed you.” You sigh, leaning your head to expose more of your neck to him as your fingers find his hair.

He nuzzles his nose against the underside of your jaw, humming in contentment as your sweet flowery scent surrounds him. “I’ve missed you— so much.” He breathes.

Aegon cups your jaw, tilting your head slightly to the side so he can kiss you. So slow and yet full of passion that has only been building up for the past few weeks. He groans into your eager mouth the taste of your tongue against his own going straight to his cock.

His arms wrap around your midsection, pulling you closer to him. He press his growing erection against the curve of your ass and he can’t help but rut against you slightly. He was more pent up than he realised.

He breaks the messy kiss momentarily, his breath warm against your skin. "You taste... incredible..." he whispers, his voice a low rumble, before kissing you once again.

“The wine perhaps.” The words are hushed through a small giggle. Once again his lips find yours, not breaking as you turn around in his embrace, one of his hands reaching up to caress your warm cheek.

"No," he murmurs, pulling back to admire you with a hungry look and a lazy grin. "It's not the wine." He leans back in. "It's... you," the kiss is much greedier, and his hands trace a path down your spine, resting against the small of your back, drawing you closer to his body.

You gasp, hands flying to grab his forearms as he suddenly begins to guide you backwards over to your shared bed. The backs of your knees hit the mattress as you collide with the softness of the bedsheets, looking up at him with wide eyes.

“Where did your manners go?” You tease him lightly, propping yourself up on your elbows, watching him with desire in your eyes as he lifts his tunic over his head, discarding it on the floor somewhere.

He smirks, leaning over you, trailing his lips along your collarbones— a clash of teeth and tongue. His hips lay flush over your own as he slowly grinds himself down onto you, relishing in the sweet sounds that you make.

"My manners?" he murmurs against your chest, his eyes meeting your own with a glint of playfulness flashes through them. "They flew out the window the moment I took that dress off of you."

His gaze roams over your body, drinking in the sight of you laid out beneath him bare— hips writhing desperately. You gasp against the pillows as he takes one of your nipples into his mouth, his tongue flicking over the hardened peak whilst his other hand cups your unattended breast, thumbing over the nub.

“Aegon— please.” The words are a struggle to get out as he’s rendered you completely breathless, but the way your hips lift up to try and press against his, desperate for attention, tells him everything he needs to know.

He hums in understanding, leaving a trail of kisses along your breasts. “I’ll get there, my love… I’ll get there.” He coos softly, his hand falling to your restless hips as his thumb rubs over the curve and dips whilst his mouth ravishes your chest in wet kisses and small licks.

Aegon slips his hand in between your thighs, watching your face intently as his fingers part your slick folds, running along the sensitive flesh before catching your clit, rubbing slow circles over the bud. He’s completely taken with the way you arch up into his touch, how your lips part, the sounds you make. All of it— all of you—causes his cock to throb.

You mewl, hips bucking against his hand as he pushes two fingers inside you, curling them. “Mhm… you’re so beautiful with my fingers buried in your cunt,” He smirks, enjoying the fact he isn’t the only one who has been pent up. “So wet…” the words are muffled against your lips, your slickness coating his digits.

You brush your fingers through his hair, pulling him into a kiss as he continues to pump his fingers in and out of you. Your free hand works deftly to unlace his breeches, the fabric falls mid-thigh letting his cock spring free, begging for attention.

Aegon hisses sharply into your ear, burying his face against your shoulder as your hand wraps around his length. “I want your cock inside me, please…” you beg him, voice strained with pleasure. The deep desire to feel him as close to you as humanly possible completely drowns out everything else in your mind, your thoughts now are only of him.

He nods his head in compliance, not having the strength the refrain himself any longer than he already has. Sliding his fingers out of your cunt, he coats your slickness around the tip of his thick shaft, the feeling sends a tingle down his spine, his skin hot to the touch.

Aegon swats your hand away gently as he guides the head of his cock between your folds, nudging the tip against your clit over and over again basking in the way his name sounds coming from you all whiny, laced with such wanton passion.

He groans as he lines himself up to your entrance before sinking into you slowly, whispering soft lovely words of encouragement against your jaw. The way you take him with ease, how your slick walls clamp around him it’s all so maddening— so mind-numbing and all he can do is huff and moan against your skin.

The stretch of him is so achingly good, the drag of his cock along your walls as he thrusts his hips against your own sends a searing heat through your abdomen. Aegon mutters on about how ‘good you feel’ and how ‘well you take him’ like some sort of crazed man, completely drunk off of your body.

His movements soon become sloppy, trying so hard to keep himself from spilling too early but the sounds of wet flesh and your moans coupled with the way your cunt squeezes around him makes it nearly impossible as he teeters closer to the edge.

“Fuck— I can’t— it’s been too long I— I won’t last.” He whimpers, nuzzling his nose into the crook of your neck, breathing you in. His hands pin your hips down to the bedsheets as he continues to fuck himself into you, moaning hotly against your flushed skin as you wrap your thighs around his waist to hold him closer.

“I- I’m close… don’t worry.” You reassure him, your hand grasping at his white hair. The tightness deep inside him eventually snaps, spilling his warm seed inside you with a broken cry of pleasure, panting and whining into the crook of your neck as apologies fly from his lips. You grab his face, kissing him greedily as you come around cock, milking him practically dry.

The pair of you go boneless against the comfort of the pillows, catching your breaths with dazed expressions. Aegon’s fingers trace a soothing line along your spine as you instinctively seek out the warmth of his arms.

“Sorry-” He rasps with a lazy grin, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, then another to your cheek. "It's been too long"

“Mm… don't apologise, we'll never go that long apart again.” You reply earning a weak nod and a hum of agreement from him. You rest your cheek against his chest, allowing the steady rhythm of his heartbeat calm your own erratic one.

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Aegon the victorious risen from the ashes, Aegon the peacemaker, Aegon the rebuilder…

AEGON THE REALM'S DELIGHT!!!

- Hiya my lovelies!! 💕

Please send over some requests for house of the dragon, I’m dying to write for my baby girls <3

Or you can check out my master-list here! for other fandoms, love you lots!! 💕

Firing Alicent and tormenting Aegon whilst he’s on his deathbed… When I catch you Aemond… 🤺🤺

Just let him sleep in peace, my poor boy is in shambles!

helloo could i request a cregan stark x reader? Where the reader has the ability to see the future or possible outcomes? I hope it isnt to bad of a idea😅 Thank you so much 🫶🏻

-Cregan Stark x Dreamer!Reader

{Your dreams are often plagued by nightmares of events that are yet to unfold, Cregan is always there to hold you}

Love this! Thank you for requesting, enjoy lovelies💕

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It was not lost on Cregan Stark that Rhaenyra’s daughter was… unique to say the least. It was known way before your engagement was planned, a quiet ceremony hidden away in the woods near Winterfell, it seems love still prevails even through war.

Although this never deterred Cregan, he was utterly head over heels for you yet confused at the same time whenever you would whisper cryptic insanities into the cold night air with wide fearful eyes full of knowledge about events that loom over the horizon like dark storm clouds.

He would spend hours brushing your white hair, speaking gentle, loving words against your shoulder when your mind seemed to have wandered too far from your grasp.

He was just as lost as you were when it came to figuring out what exactly it all meant and the Maesters were no help, especially on nights like this when you were awoken by such horrific sights that infest your mind.

“Aliments of the mind are far more trickier than those of the body, my Lord.” Maester Owryn says, still adamant about just giving you tea to help you sleep.

His words only serve to annoy an already exhausted Cregan, he can’t count how many times he has been told the same thing with a look of pity. It killed him that he could not provide you with more comfort, he cannot help but feel as if he has failed you.

“Do you see her, do you?— it’ll take more than damn tea to calm her from this.” Cregan scolds, looking down at the Maester with dark narrowed eyes. He glances back over to where you are curled up on a chair, your fingers buried within your messy locks, clutching harshly as you mutter the same words over and over again.

The Maester shuffles, fiddling with the small piece of parchment, his brows pulled together in confusion. “Might I suggest milk of the poppy?” He whispers, clearly unnerved by the glare that Cregan was scrutinising him under.

“No, bring her the tea.” The Lord settles, his tone rough with irritation. He did not want to subject you to the horrible drowsiness that the sweet milk brings, numbing your mind was not the answer.

With the Maester gone Cregan tries once more to approach you, drawing closer to you like he would with a wounded animal, he wraps his fingers around your wrists in an attempt to stop you from pulling at your hair, his touch is gentle despite the callouses on his palms.

“Not so hard my love… you’ll hurt yourself.” He whispers, eyes searching your face desperately for any signs of the woman you were before you woke up from this nightmare.

Although he finds nothing of the sort, you are all glossy-eyed and chapped lips, blankly staring at the floor like you were miles away.

A moment of silence settles around the room, the sound of your heavy breathing and the soft crackle of firewood is the only thing breaking through it. It takes a few moments and soft words of encouragement before you allow him to lower your hands down to your lap, your fingers still clutched tightly into fists.

“Dragon breath… burning flesh.” You whisper fearfully, a gasp escaping past your red-bitten lips. The same words you’ve been muttering all night, it unsettles him, calling to something deep within him.

Cregan hums, brushing your messy hair behind your ears. “I know my love.” He sighs, grazing the rough pads of his thumbs across your knuckles.

“Come back to me y/n, come on…” he whispers into the backs of your hands, closing his eyes as you continue to whisper the words madly.

The mumblings stop, your breathing coming back down into a steady rhythm as you begin to unclench your fists slowly. Relief hits Cregan like a gust of wind, his expression softening when your gaze meets with his own.

“… burning… bedevilled crown.” You try to explain to him all too quickly, stuttering over your words in a panic-stricken manner. Your hands trembling against his own rough ones.

“Slowly now, breathe for me first, my love.” He whispers, reaching over to cup your jaw to keep you grounded on the here and now, his thumb caressing your cheek.

Your senses soon come back to you making you aware of your surroundings, the softness of your nightgown and the warmth of your husband’s hand against the side of your face.

The Maester walks in with a small cup of soothing tea, placing the ceramic down on the dark oak table before taking his leave with a curt nod. The herbal aroma brings you into the present moment, keeping your mind occupied.

You watch with tired eyes as he gives you the cup, minding the way your hands still shake ever so slightly. He guides you to take small sips, smiling gently in encouragement.

“There were two, but I could not see— the smoke and flames— screams.” The words are a struggle to get out and it pains him to see you like this, the pain and fear in your eyes.

Your words are too vague to try and make any sense of them, after all, it was a war between Targaryens, and the involvement of dragons and their formidable flames was inevitable.

“I want to stop it… to prevent the pain but I do not know how.” You whisper, voice strained with unshed tears.

“That may be beyond you. I won’t have you shouldering blame for anything that transpires.” He says, his tone full of love despite the roughness of it.

You nod softly, looking down at him from where he is kneeling in front of you. The soft glow of the fireplace flickers against his features, highlighting the exhaustion that hangs below his eyes.

“You can go back to sleep…” you suggest softly, clearly feeling too shaken up to go back to bed.

At your words he immediately shakes his head, taking your hands to pepper gentle kisses along your knuckles, his beard tickling your soft skin. “Not until you’re okay…”

You know there is no point in arguing the point, he is as stubborn as a mule. Instead, you shuffle over, giving him room to sit down next to you. The warmth between you, as he pulls you onto his lap, calms the restlessness that has built up within your chest, allowing you a moment of respite.