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benjicot blackwood is the simp of the century.

when benji loves you, he truly loves you with all his heart.

sigh... benjicot the total simp. who refuses to argue with his perfect fuckin wife. who shuts up when she tells him too. who gets dog walked day in and day out and who couldn’t give a fuck bcus he does it all with a smile on his face. who would do anything the love of his life demanded of him. cutting down those who dare to speak bad on ur name, on the last name he gave you.

he strikes me as someone who is entirely devoted to his woman. his wife. his lady. i think that like all his endeavors, he was utterly unstoppable in all of his attempts to get to you. to make you his. so once he does have you finally have you, with his rings on ur fingers. when u roam the halls, now dressed in the dark colors of his house. when ur bed chambers sit right across the hall from his. he decides then and there that he's never letting you leave his side. you would be a breath of fresh air for him, a break from plotting against people who never seem to understand reason, and from fighting the same fights over and over again.

He'd do anything to keep you happy within the confines of his home. he wants this place to feel like home for you too, like something you made together. like a place to fill with sounds of laughter coming from a new generation he made with you. decorations in ur bed chambers, trying new foods from the place you grew up, food that would bring you comfort in tough times. anything you wanted truly. chambers for ur family when they visit travel to where you would want. its going to be urs.

(nsfw)

And god, when the time would come for him to touch you. when he's allowed to run his hands over the planes of ur back. over the skin of your stomach that he plans to fill with his blackwood seed. he would make love to you, it would never be just making an heir to him. keeping you comfortable. putting ur pleasure before his own. everything would be about you i think. and when he finally does decide to take for himself, its in the throws of pleasure, when both of his hands are creating marks on ur hips and thighs from the strength of his grip. when he can feel you becoming impossibly tight around him, beginning to pound into you while begging for you to reach ur peaks at the same time. muttering into ur neck about how good you are and how heavenly you feel time and time again. continuing to pound into you while your juices froth around his cock, evidence of all his previous seed that he planted inside of you. pulling out and holding you close while his mess pools between ur thighs.

he loved you, and although the word "love" doesn't seem like enough to him. to describe the all encompassing feelings u fill him with. he would always try to show you all the same.

hi! requests are currently open! or feel free to pop into my inbox with thoughts!

hotd masterlist.

series.

"aka mr. attitude adjustment."

in which the men of the seven kingoms check you when you need to be checked. ( slightly smutty, mostly fluff and me being delulu.) -> currently featuing: benjicot blackwood, cregan stark

Head cannons.

Benjicot blackwood.

-> mating press drabble.

-> pretty face and a nice place to sit.

-> simp of the year award.

-> a "feelz" kinda love.

cregan stark.

-> natural instincts.

cregan stark aka mr attitude adjustment.

sometimes cregan needs to check himself, and make sure ur good too

this is part of a series which at the moment also includes benjicot blackwood. if there's anyone you'd like to see done next please let me know! general NSFW content warning, talk of impregnation.

lalala cregan stark lalala tom taylor...can i just preface this by saying he causes the ultimate brain rot. i look at him and my brain just goes " big man in pelts and amour big man in pelts and-" anyway!

to me cregan stark is the physical embodiment of non sexual dominance. i mean we all know how well the men of the north treat their women, like they are queens even if they wear the crown or not. and being with the lord of winterfell himself only makes things better. He walks into a room and he demands control and attention, and when people see you his pretty little wife hanging off his arm it only makes him feel that much more powerful.

back to the n.s.d thing, lets just says he's a natural "father" figure. i can see him falling for someone who needs some... light correcting... are u following me. finding love with someone who may be a bit mouthy. who isn't afraid to look him in the face and disagree with him, to offer a different opinion from the other daft cunts int he room. someone who will watch him train, who will watch him knock new coming knights onto the ground without flinching away.

i just think he would find excitement in someone with a little fight in them. someone he can back into a corner with his body mass alone, looking down his nose at you no matter how much to try to stand tall in front of him. staring you down into submission until you don't have a peep left in you, giving him the talking space to tell you how exactly things are going to go from here on out. [nsfw]

its hard to imagine actual angry sex with cregan, a man made of honor like that would never try and apologize with his cock before he does so with his words. however, i can imagine jealous, possessive, and passionate sex with cregan after his honor towards you has been tested. maybe someone eludes to you having an hard time producing heirs, suggesting someone else. or maybe they have the audacity to marry you off or send you away for some sort of gain for winterfell. all of a sudden there's knocking on ur chamber doors, and ur being pushed into ur room instead of opening the door properly.

from there the evening existed entirely of hot and heavy breathing accompanied by his harsh grip moving along ur skin. he touches you with purpose, like he's trying to leave some sort of trace of him on ur skin. teeth biting into ur neck, the feeling similar to that of a wolfs fangs leaving bruises on ur skin after a harsh nip. if it was up to him he would've torn ur shift away from ur body and throw it into the fire, leaving you bare before his eyes for the rest of time. his war torn hands run up along whatever parts of you he can reach. his touches are desperate in the way he pushes you into the chaise, in way too much of a hurry to move both of you to the bed it seems. fingers prepping ur sweet cunt while muttering words of owners ship and adoration into ur neck. his hair tickles ur skin as you begin to claw at the part of him you can. its clumsy and desperate, the kind of intercourse where you know there's something he's trying to get off his chest but he just doesn't have the words to say it. its when he finally sheathes himself inside of you that he tells you all about the lords who dared to speak of you to his face. heavy girth pumping in and out of you while his voice gets louder and louder, crying out ur name over the sounds of lilted moans. making sure all the lords and ladies down the hall know that you won't be going anywhere. especially away from him.

this is my first work for cregan i love him so much that wolf of a man. my ask box is always open tbh i love to yap especially abt hotd

natural instincts…

sick and laying in my bed which also means i can’t stop thinking about cregan and the stark baby making gene that definitely runs in the family. cw: dis is mostly smut with a side of fluff, no angst at all. talk of breeding and imprégnation, as well as some talk of family life.

so it’s no secret to any of the beautiful brains on tumblr that the stark men have a certain habit of tripping and falling and maybe putting a baby in their pretty lady wives. and well i believe that cregan stark is no different. it’s so fucking cold in the north, and even though he is a man grown that doesn’t mean he doesn’t enjoy a nice warm cunt to settle into at the end of the night. he works so hard :/ constantly walking around and performing his duty as lord of the north.

i can imagine how insufferable he’d be before you are wed. the thought of building a family with you always on him mind. sneaking into ur chambers before the sun is y over the hills, just to slide into bed with his hand on your stomach and dream about the life he can’t wait to have with you. talking over ir shoulder until you go to sleep and slipping back into his own chambers. it gets even worse once u finally belong to him under the eyes of the seven. on ur first official night together, during the bedding ceremony, he was incredibly gentle with you. so grateful to have you as his wife that he could even think to push you abt heirs. no he’s never allow those old fuck in the room to watch as he takes you over and over again, he allows them to listen to ur cries through the walls, opening the chamber doors and tossing the sheets at them after splitting u open on his cock for the first time that night. happiest man on the planet once he gets you back in his arm and under one of his favorite pelts.

i can imagine one day he sees you talking one of the young lords who had gotten lost and was search for his mother. stumbled upon you coddling him and wiping his tears until another his morhwr is found again. the whole ordeal has him feeling some kind of way, he can’t even find it in himself to approach you over the feeling of him stiffening between his thighs. he thinks about it for the rest of the day, the thought of making you a mother. just lalala scatter brained cregan stumbling around the training grounds things about stirring up ur guts the second you get back to ur shared chambers and keeping you on ur back until ur sure to be taken with his seed.

nsfw!!!!

baby making time! cregan is my man with a plan. he has been planting little seeds in ur brain for weeks now. talking about how cute having someone who looks just like you would be. or how much he would love to see ur belly get rounder with ever passing moon. wrapping his hands around ur stomach and pressing down right where ur womb would be, rocking you back and forth while pressing his slowly gardening cock into ur backside. his plan is going so well that it’s only be a matter of time before he has ur body crowded against the sheets of his bed. face down with tears wetting his sheets while his pillow sits comfortably underneath ur hips. sliding his cock in the space between ur thighs before finally oushing past the tight space of ur cunt. his front pressed against ur back while he lifts his hips and slams back into you at a toe curling pace. one hand keeping ur hips pressed against his while the other wraps around ur front, groping at whatever he can feel to lift you back into him, swallowing ur whines with a kiss. when all is said and done he likes to pull out and admire his work, the mess he’s made of you. rolling you over and sliding the pillow back under ur hips so you’ll be sure to bless him with a mini stark sometime soon.

he also is not the kind of man who refrains form touch you while you are with his child. it’s hard to ignore the way ur chest starts to swell along with your stomach, spilling out of the lovely dresses you wear. or the way ur body starts to beings softer.. more plush. completing him to dig his fingers into ur hips and revel in the marks he leave behind. so head over heels for his pregnant lady wife that he might wanna start keep her that way. swollen and sweet with his child.

this was typed during a fever dream so sorry for any mistakes. hotd requests are open!

Bitch how dare you getting me into slasher smut

“La Petite Mort” - Dark Modern!Aemond Targaryen x Reader (Pt. 2 of 2)

a/n: read part one HERE! thank you guys so much for the support with this lil story, i had so much fun sharing it with you! ❤️

Summary: You deal with the fallout of Aemond's confession.

TW: DDNE dark content, HEAVY DUBCON, profanity, innuendo, she/her pronouns, afab reader, p in v sex, unprotected sex, dark themes, kidnapping, gun violence, knife violence, handcuffs, oral f receiving, oral m receiving, tiddy succin

Word Count: 2,780 words

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

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

“Do you know how much I love you?”

“Do you know that I’ve fucking killed for you?”

You look at Aemond, the intense expression in his eye terrifying you. You stand, frozen in place, as he stays buried inside of you. He’s got to be joking, right? There’s no way he can be serious. You laugh nervously, as he pulls out of you, feeling uncomfortably empty as you feel his seed leaking down your thighs.

“You’re so funny, Aem.”

“I’m not joking,” he murmurs in your ear, nipping at your earlobe before whispering, “I promised you our time was coming soon, didn’t I, pretty agent?”

Pretty agent.

You feel as though your blood turns to ice in your veins at his words. It’s him. It’s Aemond. He’s the killer, the one who’s been stalking you, the one you’ve been trying to hunt down. You barely manage to dodge his kiss, shoving him out of the way and slamming the door to your bedroom shut, locking it. You grab the first shirt you can find, which unsurprisingly, is one of his that you sleep in. The thought makes your skin crawl but you put that aside when you hear Aemond calling to you from the other side of the door.

“Come on, baby, open the door,” he coos, his voice saccharine sweet, “Don’t make this harder than it has to be.”

“Fuck you,” you spit angrily, grabbing your gun from your nightstand as you hear Aemond begin banging on the door, “What, you want me to let you in so you can fucking kill me?

“We both know if I wanted you dead, you’d have been dead already. Now open the door, love.”

You shake your head, holding back a scream when he manages to kick it open. Aemond’s pulled his clothes back on and has his own gun drawn, both of you standing, staring each other down. Aemond’s lips quirk up into a smirk.

“You’re not going to shoot me and I’m not going to shoot you, love. So put the gun down and let’s talk.”

You cock your gun, finger on the trigger and shake your head, “You killed all those girls, Aemond. You really don’t think I’ll kill you for that?”

Aemond crosses the room in two long steps, his gaze never wavering as he tosses his gun aside, disarming himself. He raises his hands in surrender as he speaks once more.

“Are you going to shoot me, pretty agent? I’m unarmed.”

You feel your eyes water. You have the power to end this here and now. You have the power to put an end to the violence Aemond has been perpetuating for God knows how long. You swore an oath to uphold your duties as a federal agent, to protect the citizens of your country. By all accounts, that means killing Aemond. He brings your gun to his forehead, looking down the barrel of it into your eyes.

“You can’t do it, can you?” he murmurs, “You love me too much to do it.”

You feel the tears finally begin to fall as you look back at him, unable to just pull the trigger. Because even though he’s a murderer and a monster, he’s still your best friend, the man you care so deeply for, the one constant in your life. The one who’s been there for you through it all. And in your moment of hesitation, Aemond grabs your gun from you, pulling you in by your wrists, holding them in one of his large hands. He reaches for something in his pocket, and before you can even say a word, your world fades to black.

You don’t know how much time has passed when you wake up. But your head aches like crazy, your eyes burning slightly as you sit up. That’s when you feel the metal on your wrists. You try to move your arms and find that you’re not able to go very far. You’re handcuffed to the bed you’re lying in. You let out a growl of frustration and futilely tug at your restraints until the doorknob twists, indicating someone is opening the door. You immediately close your eyes and pretend you’re asleep once again.

“I know you’re awake.”

You refuse to open your eyes until you feel Aemond’s finger tracing the shape of your lips. Then, you look up and glare at him.

“Where the fuck am I?”

“Just a guest room in my apartment,” he says, moving a hand to stroke your hair, “You’ll be safe here, with me.”

“Is anyone safe with you?”

Aemond frowns, “You are.”

You scoff, “You are killing women who look like me, Aemond. Leaving your little notes at each crime scene, fucking terrorizing me. Is it so far off base to think that you want me dead?”

“You’re the last fucking person on this planet I want dead,” he snaps at you, gripping your chin in his hands, “Get that through your thick skull. I love you. Everything I’ve ever done is for you, for us.”

“Why kill them?” you demand, “Huh? Explain that to me!”

“Because you were never going to see me,” he says quietly, “So I decided I’d make it impossible for you not to. Those girls, I’d be nice to them, pretend they were you, take them home, fuck them while pretended it was you. And then? I’d make a gift of them to you, showing you just how far I was willing to go for your love.”

“A gift?” you sneer, “You sick fuck-”

“Language, sweetheart,” he tuts, “And you know something? I think it was a bit fucked up of you to go on that date with your precious Cregan when I was right fucking there the entire time.”

The mention of Cregan stings for a moment before you put two and two together and gasp, looking up at him, “He didn’t ghost me, did he? You- you killed him!”

A smile plays on Aemond’s lips, “Do you really think I was ever going to let anyone else have you? Ever? No, love, I’m the only one who deserves you. The only one who can treat you the way you deserve to be treated. Do you understand now?”

“I don’t understand shit, you bastard,” you growl, “And now you have me cuffed to a bed? People are gonna come looking for me-”

“Not for another week,” he taunts, “It was really easy to put in a time off request on your laptop and delete the emails without you even noticing. For a special agent, you are quite bad at choosing passwords, love,” you scowl up at him, making him let out a low chuckle as he murmurs, “You look so fucking cute like this. Tied up. At my mercy.”

“You don’t know the meaning of mercy, considering what you’ve done-”

“Do not,” he cuts you off sharply, pressing a finger to your lips, “Act like you’re not the least bit flattered by what I did. Didn’t you say you wanted a man who was willing to kill for you? To die for you?”

You know what he’s referring to. A late night conversation, back in Quantico, while watching some stupid romcom together. Of course he chooses to twist your words to serve his own sick little agenda. The idea makes you seethe with unadulterated fury as you spit at him. Aemond? He just wipes it off and laughs, telling you that he’ll be right back with some food for you.

When he returns, it’s with a bowl of your favorite cereal. And for a moment, you feel yourself soften at his thoughtfulness, you think of him as your best friend, your Aemond. Then you realize he must’ve been planning this for a long time, abducting you, holding you captive in his home. And your eyes harden toward him again, any hint of affection gone.

“So angry,” he says teasingly, bringing the spoon to your mouth, which you reluctantly eat, your need for food overpowering your anger, “There you are, sweet girl. You know,” he chuckles for a moment, “Sometimes I think about how funny it is that I was able to avoid detection even with the handwritten notes. We truly live in an age of technology. I think the notes may have been your first time even seeing my handwriting.”

“That’s why I couldn’t recognize it,” you grumble, “And you wrote in all capital letters. Made it messier, smudged the ink. You knew exactly what to do, how to get away with it. You used me-”

“Don’t you dare say that,” he snaps at you, his eye narrowing, “I’ve used others. But never you. Don’t you ever say that again.”

“You fucking asshole,” you scoff, “You really think I’m just going to be okay with you being a goddamn serial killer? How fucking delusional-”

He cuts you off with a kiss that’s almost bruising, his hands gripping your hips, and you hate yourself for it, but you kiss him back. A part of you feels like kissing him is the most natural thing in the world, that this is what the two of you were meant to do all this time. But good sense prevails and you bite down hard on his lip, enough to make him bleed. However, Aemond? He merely lets out a low groan, his lips capturing yours again, the copper tang of his blood invading your mouth as he gives you another searing kiss.

You realize that the best way of getting out of this alive is playing into his sick little fantasy. And so, you lose yourself in his kiss, deciding to bide your time and wait for the opportune moment to make your escape. Aemond’s hands travel under the fabric of your shirt, squeezing at your tits, moaning as he feels your nipples harden beneath his fingers, pinching at them, squeezing your soft flesh. He moves to sit on his haunches between your legs, lifting them up over his shoulders as he once again buries his face between your thighs. You remind yourself as he stares up at you that you’re doing this to survive. That you’re not enjoying this. But the truth of the matter is you love how it feels. You love the feeling of the cleft of his nose brushing against your clit, the way he grips your thighs hard enough to bruise, how he laps at your folds like a man starved.

Aemond brings you to the edge not once, but twice before shedding his clothes and fucking you, growling into your ear how he’s going to keep fucking you until you have no desire to fight him anymore, until you surrender completely to your need for him, until your cunt and legs are so sore that you won’t even be able to leave the bed. He pounds into you and you can’t even grab onto his hair or arms for purchase, still handcuffed to the bed, entirely at his mercy. And you hate that you love it. You hate him, but more than that you hate yourself for enjoying what he’s doing to you as he spills himself inside you yet again, pushing his fingers inside you, saying that he doesn’t want you to waste one drop of his cum.

The next few days are spent much the same. Aemond fucks you like his life depends on it, he brings you food, he eventually cuffs your hands together and runs you a bath, washing your hair for you. You hate him, and yet, he’s still your Aemond. He insists to you that he would never hurt you. That all he wants is for you to love him the way he loves you, for you to truly see him in the way he needs you to. That everything he’s ever done is for you.

Every day he asks you if you love him, and every day you give him the same answer. A resounding no. And you know you’re lying. You know a part of you has loved him ever since you met him, a part of you that you simply refused to acknowledge, not wanting to lose your best friend.

And a sick, deplorable part of you, one that you won’t ever admit even to yourself, craves the attention he gives you, is impressed by the fact that he has literally killed for you, wanting to earn your love. But you silence that voice inside of you as best as you can, though it grows louder with every kiss he presses to your lips, every soft smile he gives you as he feeds you.

After four days, you finally get your chance to make your escape. Aemond decides he trusts you enough to uncuff you. You decide not to attack straight away, because you know he’s going to be on guard as he takes the cuffs off. He frowns at the sight of your raw wrists, gently massaging them, apologizing, saying that he had no other choice. You pretend to understand, you smile and tell him that’s okay. He kisses your wrists, his finger moving over your pulse point, smiling to himself.

Aemond allows himself to get comfortable with you, deluded into thinking that you want to be here with him. And maybe you do.

When he sleeps beside you, one arm wrapped around your waist, his face buried in the crook of your neck, you decide that this is the time to strike. You slide out of his grip, walking toward his kitchen, finding the largest, sharpest knife you can among his belongings. You gaze at your reflection in it for a moment, not recognizing the person staring back at you. You shake your head and return, sliding back into bed, feeling him move to hold you again.

That’s when you strike. You move to straddle him, poising the knife to stab him through the throat. And he just stares up at you, unspeaking, unmoving. Just gazing at you with that one blue eye and one white, almost reverently. You hold the tip of the knife to his throat, though not moving, feeling his hands move to hold your thighs in place.

“You’re beautiful.”

It’s a soft whisper, one that cuts you to the bone. And you know in that moment that you can’t kill him. In spite of everything he’s done, every depraved, awful sin he’s committed, you love him. You’re in love with Aemond, both the man and the monster that lurks within his heart. The monster that sought nothing more than to keep you by his side forever. You toss the knife aside and lean down, pressing your lips to his, tears streaming down your face as you do. You make quick work of Aemond’s pajama pants, sliding them down to reveal his cock to you, moving down to sit between his legs, taking him into your mouth. Aemond lets out a moan of your name as you bob your head up and down on him, hollowing your cheeks as he hits the back of your throat. Aemond resists the urge to buck his hips against your mouth, your plush lips wrapped around the base of his cock looking so goddamn pretty. Instead, he lets you set the pace until he’s nearly at his end, when he pulls you off of him.

“I don’t want to cum anywhere other than inside that perfect cunt,” he growls in your ear.

You move to straddle his waist, sinking down onto his cock with a contented sigh. Aemond sits up, his hands moving to your shirt, pulling it over your head and tossing it aside as you begin moving up and down on his length, your breasts bouncing as you do, attracting his attention. Your tits are his weakness, he muses, as he takes one of your nipples in his mouth, nipping at it slightly while his hands go to your hips, helping you along.

“I love you,” you admit as you squeeze around his cock, “I don’t care what you’ve done. I hate myself for it, but I love you.”

Aemond groans as your pussy clenches around his cock, impossibly tight, making him feel like he can hardly even move, “Fuck, baby, I love you too. You know I do. I’d kill for you. I’d die for you.”

He spills himself inside you again, making you moan his name as you fall down against him, exhausted. He holds you tightly, kissing your forehead, your cheeks, cupping your face in his hands.

“I’m a monster,” he admits, “But I’m your monster.”

“I know,” you whisper, closing your eyes and allowing sleep to claim you once again.

…, if you don’t write a sequel of this with grown up Aemond and Daemon dp-ing almost-septa!reader

"No One But Me" - Daemon Targaryen x Niece!Reader

a/n: combined a few requests into one - enjoy!! 💕

Summary: Daemon lusts after you, Viserys and Alicent's eldest daughter who is set to become a septa.

TW: DUBCON, profanity, innuendo, she/her pronouns, afab reader, canon-typical incest, corruption kink, innocence kink, religion kink, dacryphilia, thigh riding, fingering, oral f receiving, overstim, p in v sex, loss of virginity, breeding kink

Word Count: 2,515 words

Rating: 18+, MDNI

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

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

Daemon Targaryen never thought much of you, the eldest daughter of his brother and Alicent Hightower. You were a plain, mousy little thing the last time he saw you, at Rhaenyra’s wedding before he eloped with Lady Laena. You were sweet enough, curtsying and greeting him politely when you met him, thanking him for fighting so valiantly in the Stepstones. But that was the extent of your interaction.

After his second wife’s passing, he comes to Driftmark to lay her to rest. And that is when he sees you again. You are a woman now, he realizes as he watches you rest a hand on Helaena and Aemond’s shoulders, Aegon already off in his cups. There is something so sweet about you, your gentle disposition as you bend down to fix Aemond’s tunic, tapping the tip of his nose with your finger. The boy, who has been dour the entire length of the funeral, comes alive with a bright smile at your attention, something Daemon finds quite interesting. You’re beautiful, the curves of your body evident despite the somewhat conservative dress you wear, no doubt hand-picked by your mother.

You approach him, a kind, sweet smile on your face as you offer your condolences, “I am so very sorry for your loss, kepus. I did not know Lady Laena well, but she will be dearly missed by many.” (Uncle)

Daemon simply nods and you step aside, taking Aemond and Helaena with you. He muses to himself that you seem more like their mother than Alicent does, too busy tending to his brother. It stirs something inside him as he watches you, those lilac eyes never once leaving your form. You have piqued the interest of the Rogue Prince, and he has every intention of claiming his sweet little niece as his prize. He stares after you as you retreat into the castle, your siblings trailing after you, like little ducklings in a line. And, as if you could be any more perfect, he watches you interact with his daughters. The kindness you show them, the affection you shower them with in the wake of their devastating loss.

The gears in Daemon’s head begin to turn and he realizes that you are the perfect woman for him. And that he is going to do anything to make you his. There is only one small problem. That is, when your mother announces your intention to become a septa at dinner. You beam with pride as your father, in a rare moment of care for you, leans over and presses a kiss to your forehead. Aegon says something to you that causes you to slap him hard on the shoulder, that tiny spark you’ve shown lighting a flame inside Daemon. He saw the way your eyes danced with mischief. No, you cannot waste your days away as a septa, locked away from the world, your beauty never to be admired. He is most certainly going to have to do something about that tonight.

He finds you that evening, walking toward the humble Driftmark sept, no doubt going for your evening prayers. He heard your mother declaring to Rhaenyra with no little amount of pride that you have never missed a prayer. He steps out of the shadows, taking you by surprise, your hand flying to your chest as if to calm your heart. It’s adorable, really. You’re like a little rabbit, and he is a wolf going in for the kill.

“Uncle,” you greet in a soft voice, bowing your head in greeting before nervously fiddling with your fingers, “If you will excuse me, I am on my way to evening prayers.”

“Too busy to chat with kepa?” Daemon asks as he falls into step beside you, eyes roaming your frame, his thoughts growing more and more lustful with every passing moment, “I am sure that you aren’t too busy for a walk.”

“Perhaps another time, Uncle,” you say, gazing up at him with those doe eyes of yours, so innocent and unassuming, “I know you have never been religious, but my faith is something I hold quite dear.”

Daemon hums in acknowledgement, still walking beside you, glancing down at the subtle bounce of your breasts with each step you take, his mouth nearly watering at the thought of how you look under the fabric of it, the way your hair dances in the wind, “How old are you now, sweetling?”

“Nine and ten,” you inform him as you enter the sept, lighting a candle.

“Nine and ten,” Daemon repeats, “You are a woman grown. It is a shame that you’ve chosen to throw your life away and rot in a sept somewhere. You are very beautiful, you know.”

He watches with bated breath as you bite your lip nervously, “I… Um…”

“What does the faith even have to offer you?” Daemon continues, trailing after you as you kneel down before the altar of the Maiden, “A life of modesty and praying?” He leans in, his lips ghosting over your ear as he whispers, “A life of never knowing the touch of a man?”

He sees the way you shiver, the way you gaze up at him with wide eyes as you ask him if he wishes to pray with you. He kneels beside you, gazing into those sweet, innocent eyes, so ripe for corruption, those soft, full lips, your hair framing your face. He wonders if anyone would even hear if he claimed you, here and now, in the eyes of the Seven. You bow your head and close your eyes, beginning to pray. Daemon bows his head for show, but simply continues staring at you, eyeing the swell of your breasts as your chest rises and falls with each breath. Your collarbones, your neck, your mouth. The urge to claim you grows with every breath you take. You’re so innocent, naive to the desires of men. He can teach you. He will teach you what it is to be pleasured by a man.

Your eyes flutter open after a moment and you give Daemon a polite smile, “Thank you for praying with me, Uncle.”

“You’re such a sweet little thing,” Daemon murmurs, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering on your cheek, thinking to himself how much he can teach you, “Might I ask you a question, little one?”

You nod slowly, “Of course.”

“How would you feel if a man kissed you?” Daemon’s nose brushes against yours, close enough to press his lips against yours if he so desires, “Would you hate it? Would you be disgusted? Or, perhaps, you would find yourself not hating it, rather enjoying it.” He watches as your eyes widen, “You know, it isn’t just your body that is beautiful, those lips are almost irresistible.”

You feel the heat rise to your cheeks, turning your face away as you mumble, “I must go find my brother. Please excuse me, Uncle-”

He gently grabs your wrist, pulling you back to him, your chest flush against his as you gaze up at him, “No need to run away, little one. You know, your skin is so soft and smooth,” he says, caressing your cheek with his free hand, “Just like the rest of you, I imagine.”

You let out a soft gasp as Daemon presses his lips against yours, kissing you passionately. He feels you stiffen and then relax into his grip. His kiss is rough, aggressive, hungry even, his tongue pushing inside your mouth, exploring it, moving against your own. After a few more moments, you pull away, eyes darting around.

“I am a maiden, Uncle, I… I cannot do this…”

Daemon gathers you in his arms, his hand moving up and down your back in a motion you could almost consider soothing, “I don’t believe that, sweetling. I can see it in your eyes that you want this.” His gaze travels to your lips, slightly parted and swollen from the kiss.

“We can’t…”

He cages you in against the wall with his body, pressing up against you, “Oh, I believe we can, little princess.”

You whimper as Daemon’s lips along your neck, his hands moving to squeeze at your breasts, kneading the soft, supple flesh between his hands. He has fire in his eyes as he all but tears your dress from your frame, admiring how you look in just your smallclothes, the flimsy shift that does little to hide your curves from his lascivious gaze. You try to cover yourself, averting your gaze, and the innocence of your actions drives him nearly to the brink of madness.

He sits on one of the pews, pulling you onto his lap so that you straddle him, your weak protest coming, “Uncle, we could be seen-”

“Let them see,” he rasps.

His hands are all over you, squeezing your ass, moving up your body to your breasts again, his sweet little princess, there for him to fuck, to defile, to corrupt. You whine softly, grinding yourself against his hips, burying your face in the crook of his neck as he continues feeling your body.

“It feels strange in my stomach… Between my thighs…”

He chuckles, meeting your gaze, moving one hand to your hair, tugging it, “You aren’t as innocent as I thought, little one. I think you’re just a little tease. Look at you, rubbing yourself against my thigh like a wanton little whore. Come now, little one, make yourself peak. I know you can.”

His hands are all over you, calloused and warm, touching you places only a husband is meant to touch. You feel your pleasure building like a tidal wave as you continue moving your hips against him, rubbing your bare cunt against his thigh, feeling his muscles flex under you, how he bounces his leg ever so slightly to spur you on. His hands move to your hips, moving you faster and faster, listening to the sound of your breathing, coming out in soft, desperate pants as you reach your peak, eyes rolling back, body collapsing against his.

“What if someone walks in?”

Your voice is a hushed whisper as Daemon places you on the altar to the Maiden, tearing your shift in half, his eyes now nearly black with lust as he takes in the sight of your bare body. He pushes your knees apart, letting out a quiet laugh, admiring the sight of your bare cunny, already wet for him.

“That’s part of the excitement, little one. I’m sure any man would die to be with you, but you’re all mine, little princess. You were a maiden when you walked in here, but let’s see what you will be when you walk out.”

“This is blasphemous,” you say as he sinks to his knees, gazing up at you.

Daemon presses a hot, open-mouthed kiss to your inner thigh before burying his tongue inside your cunt, reveling in the whine of pleasure you let out, your hands gripping the altar so hard that your knuckles begin to go white. He laps at your folds, fucking you with his tongue, hiking your thighs over his shoulder as he tastes you, the lewd slurping and sucking noises he makes echoing throughout the sept. You whimper pathetically as he brings you closer and closer to your peak, his thumb rubbing against your pearl, your toes curling as you feel the pressure build in your stomach. He senses your climax is close and moves faster, his face moving from side to side as he devours you, his nose pressed against your nub, your arousal coating his tongue when you reach your peak once more with a cry of his name.

He moves to stand, cupping your mound, biting back a laugh at the way you try to shrink away from him, “It’s too much, Uncle…”

Daemon ignores your words, leaning in to kiss you, his free hand pinning your own above your head. He pushes one finger inside you, feeling the way you squeeze around his fingers, pumping it in and out ever so slowly, your entire body trembling as he continues his onslaught of pleasure. You gaze up at him, eyes watering from the overstimulation as he continues, his arousal only growing when fat tears begin to roll down your cheeks. Gods, you look beautiful when you cry. He adds a second finger, listening to you moan, your head falling back against the altar as you reach your peak yet again. But he has no intention of having mercy on you, wanting you to be nothing but a whimpering, sobbing mess beneath him as he adds a third finger, his thumb circling your swollen pearl. His fingertips brush against that rough patch deep inside you that has your eyes going wide, lips parted in a silent scream as you manage to murmur his name. He moves his fingers, curving them so he can hit that spot with each movement, bringing you to your peak once more, feeling you soak his fingers.

Your entire body shakes and Daemon pushes his fingers between your lips, arching his brow in a silent demand for you to lick his fingers clean. He watches as your plump lips wrap around the digits, thinking to himself how lovely they’ll look wrapped around his cock, your eyes watering as you choke on it while he fucks your mouth, but he’ll save that for another time. He needs to be inside you right now. He needs to breed you, to make you completely and utterly his. For everyone to see your stomach, swollen with his babe, knowing that he fucked his seed into you.

Daemon quickly undoes his breeches just enough to free his cock, already achingly hard, giving himself a quick stroke before slapping the head of it against your cunt. You let out a surprised cry, your breasts bouncing as you jump slightly. He pushes inside of you, his thick length feeling as if it’s splitting you open in the most delicious way. He sheathes himself to the hilt inside of you, bottoming out inside you with a low moan. Daemon moves like some sort of feral beast, feeling your warmth enveloping him, squeezing him so tight, so wet for him. He ruts against you, pounding into you at an animalistic pace as you gaze up at him wide-eyed. It doesn’t take much for your poor, oversensitized body to reach your peak again, but he fucks you through it, chuckling as you pray to the Maiden for forgiveness.

“Little princess, we both know it’s me who you worship now. My cock.”

You don’t bother denying it, only wrapping your legs around him, allowing him to fuck into you harder, deeper, his hips stuttering as he reaches his peak, making sure to spill his seed inside you, plugging you up with his fingers so not a drop spills.

“After you have recovered, we will go to Dragonstone, where I will make you my wife, little princess. You belong to me now, not your mother, not the gods, no one but me.”

“He's a bit iffy on exhibitionism ever since he caught Larys spying on the two of you going at it”

😶😶😶

…knowing him, he probably got off to the idea to Larys spying Daemon and his girl going at it like rabbits. Especially if he pinned them against the wall with them clinging on to his shoulders and legs wrapped around his waist.

Daemon Targaryen NSFW Alphabet

a/n: requested by my darling @schniiipsel 🩷

TW: profanity, innuendo, afab reader, she/her pronouns

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of the Dragon characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

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

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Is quite attentive with aftercare. He knows that things can get quite intense between the two of you, so he's there to talk you down, run his fingers through your hair to soothe you, have the servants run you a warm bath and bring some fruit and wine. Anything you need, your prince will have brought for you.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

His favorite body part on himself is his eyes. He knows he can get you flustered just by staring at you, his gaze trailing along your curves. He enjoys the power he has over you, the way he's able to drive you crazy with want. His favorite body part on you is you is your ass. Daemon enjoys giving you a good spanking every once in a while but also squeezing it, just staring at it when you walk. He's an ass man through and through.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Loves cumming inside you. But he's not as obsessed with furthering his family lineage. So he definitely enjoys spilling himself all over your pretty face from time to time, or in your mouth, on your tits. He loves painting you white with the evidence of what the two of you have done.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He's such a dominant person most of the time that truly? He wouldn't mind it if you took control in the bedroom once in a while. Just climbing on top of him and taking what you want from him.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

This is the slut of King's Landing. Rest assured that he knows exactly what he's doing.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

He loves fucking you from behind but grabbing your hair so that you're forced to turn slightly and have your eyes meet his.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Pretty serious for the most part, but can get a bit goofy and giggle if he has some wine in him. Drunken sex with your lover is quite fun, truth be told.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Carpet darker than the drapes. Keeps himself extremely well-groomed and trimmed. He takes pride in his appearance and wants every bit of him to be perfect.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

If there are real, honest feelings between the two of you, it's a very intimate and romantic experience. He'll be completely focused on your pleasure, showing you how much he loves you, showing you everything that he's willing to do for you.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Truly doesn't find it necessary to jack off that often because he has you. And your cunt or mouth are far more pleasurable than his hand.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Lactation kink, master/servant play, kitten play, blood kink, ye olde daddy AND mommy kink, bondage, impact play

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Absolutely anywhere and everywhere.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

You standing up for him whether it be to Viserys or Alicent or Otto, your chest pressed up against his back as he takes you for a ride on Caraxes, the sight of you taking a bath, the glazed over look in your eyes when you get caught gazing at him for a moment too long, your natural scent, the sight of you playing with children.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He's a bit iffy on exhibitionism ever since he caught Larys spying on the two of you going at it... But beyond the really out there kinks, I don't see him objecting to much.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Slight preference for receiving, but the man loves seeing you writhe beneath him too, your fingers twisted in his hair. Though, his favorite sight in the world is you on your knees, sticking out your tongue to prove to him that you've swallowed his cum.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Depending on his mood, it can be fast and rough after he's had an argument, or slow and sensual at most if not all other times.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Daemon is a big fan of having you whenever and wherever he can, so quickies? He has nothing against them and the two of you engage in them often.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Game to try anything and everything at least once.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

He's the Blood of the Dragon. Stamina is no issue for him. He goes one round at a time but the man lasts extremely long. Takes a bit more time between rounds but you'd best be ready because round two is going to be just as if not more intense than the first. That was just a warm-up.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Definitely owns his fair share of medieval toys and is game to use them both on you and on himself.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Daemon Targaryen is a menace and he loves to tease. Could even cum just from edging you alone, bringing you to the brink over and over and over and cruelly robbing you of your peak, reminding you that he's the only one who knows your body this well.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Louder than you would think. Moaning your name, growling, rasping in your ear. Loves taunting you with how good he's making you feel and is very vocal about it.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

A big proponent of threesomes, no matter if it's with another man OR woman, but it's only you who he loves. No one else.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Average length, quite thick, veiny, with sparse clean hair.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Pretty goddamn high.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Depending on his mood, he'll fall asleep immediately or want to stay up and chat for hours on end.

The only short king I’ll wear flats for…only for him to order me to wear nothing else BUT my heels

Jacaerys Velaryon NSFW Alphabet

TW: profanity, innuendo, afab reader, she/her pronouns

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of the Dragon characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

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

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Jace fusses over you like a mother hen after the two of you have been intimate. He holds you close, talks you down, tells you how wonderful you were for him, cleans you off. He's just genuinely such a sweetheart.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

His favorite body part of himself is either his curls (he loves feeling you tugging on them while y'all are fucking) or his cock. He has never felt more desired than when you're looking at it all wide-eyed and excited. His favorite body part of yours is your eyes and your ass. Loves smacking it and fucking you from behind.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

This man has breeder balls so trust his favorite place to cum is inside you. He will pull out of your mouth or away from your hand and start fucking you because he wants to see that gorgeous sight of his cum leaking out of you.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

The idea of a bedding ceremony is actually kind of appealing to him. He's the future king and he wants to make his uncles green with jealousy as he fucks you within an inch of your life. He wants them to know that he knows better than them how to please a woman.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Before you, he had little to no experience. But, he's read about it plenty and has done extensive research as to how to please you. And he's a quick study and eager to learn. He'll spend hours learning exactly what makes you tick, what places to touch, where to put his mouth to have you crying out his name.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Mating press. He loves looking you in the eyes, fucking you nice and deep, making sure you take every bit of him inside you. He's so big that he almost doesn't fit, but he promises you that he'll be gentle. He loves the intimacy of the mating press as well as the fact that the maesters have mentioned it's the most ideal position to breed one's wife in...

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

He's not averse to being goofy and humorous in the moment, but for the most part? He takes making love to you pretty seriously. It's an almost sacred moment for him.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Well-trimmed, clean, carpet matches the drapes, slightly coarser.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

He's all about holding eye contact, communicating, making sure you're feeling good, that everything is perfect for you. Jace is a total romantic, the man practically worships the ground you walk upon, so of course every intimate encounter is going to be exceedingly romantic.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He got himself off embarrassingly often to the thought of you when he first learned you were to be betrothed. And one time, you let him touch you over your skirts. That was the memory that drove his arousal until such time he was finally able to have you.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

BREEDING KINK!!!!!!!! Dom/sub dynamics (he's a total switch but prefers domming), ye olde Daddy kink, body worship (on both himself and you), praise kink, size kink

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

On the Iron Throne, long after all the guests are gone for the day. After all, what better place is there for a king to fuck his queen than on the very seat of his power? Other than that, your royal apartments in Maegor's Holdfast, where he's able to worship you the way you deserve.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

A smile, your batting your lashes at him, seeing you playing with children, the way your skirt clings to your ass, your cleavage, the barest hint of skin, your scent.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He isn't particularly fond of degradation, for either himself or you, but given the right circumstances he can be talked into it.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He's a munch. He prefers giving. This is in part because he prefers his cock to be inside you when he cums, but also because he's extremely sensitive to your needs and doesn't like that your jaw and throat are sore after he fucks your mouth. He's extremely skilled at oral and can have you coming undone on his tongue in a matter of minuts.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

If he's in a bad mood, fast and rough and angry. But for the most part, slow and sensual, taking the time to savor you like a fine wine.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

With the two of you being king and queen, you have more quickies than you care to admit. They may not be ideal, but they're better than nothing.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

As he grows more confident in your relationship, he takes more and more risks. He's quite content to drag you out into the hall during a feast and fuck you just far enough away from your visitors to keep the possibility of getting caught.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Builds up over time - he doesn't last very long at first but eventually he trains himself to last for quite a while. Also has an excellent recovery period and can go four to five rounds in one night.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He doesn't know much about toys to be honest, but if that's something you're into, he's willing to try anything to make you happy.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He's obsessed with pleasing you, so he's not too unfair. He's more eager to get you crying out his name, begging for more rather than taunt you. That's why overstimulating you is one of his favorite pastimes.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Not very loud, but will for sure moan your name, grunt as he's fucking up into you, whisper dirty things in your ear, and if you're lucky? When you tug on his hair? He might just whimper.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Absolutely loves the idea of spanking you. Disciplining you.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

He's hung like a goddamn horse. Girthy like a Coke can, 8-9 inches when hard. Breeder balls. He's... A wonder of nature.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Almost supernaturally high. He wants you any and all hours of the day and is so fucking needy for you.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Likes to wait until you've fallen asleep. The sight of you so peaceful in his arms makes him feel happier than he ever thought he could imagine.

She's Ours

Aemond & Aegon Targaryen x Targaryen!Reader

Warnings: cursing,yk the typical Targaryen incest,she/her pronouns, breeding kink, 18+, MDNI

Requested by @themotherofhorses :ok so here’s my idea !!Im obsessed with the idea of aemond & aegon being in love with their niece, and back on Drift mark, aegon and aemond propose a marriage between them and their younger niece (who’s either the trueborn daughter of daemon or laenor bc her pure valyrian is what pulls them in). aemond claims vhagar essentially as a wedding gift while aegon promises to talk to their mother to instead betroth helaena to jace and them two to their niece. however, the entire drama ensues, and the brothers “lose” their niece before anything can be done. cue the time jump, they’re older, aegon is about to wed helaena against his will, when he suggests to aemond that they sneak off to dragonstone and “claim” their niece as their own.

A/n: I loved this idea and sorry it took a while to figure out how I should do it!

~Young Aemonds Pov~

“You’re staring at her.” Aemond jumps at the sound of his brothers voice and turns to look at him. “ she is beautiful,maybe mother would let us marry her.” Aegon says while looking at his brother. “Mother hates any of our sisters children I don’t think she would.” Aemond thought about it, he always had. Him and Aegon have been thinking about this idea for months now but they have to play it safe or else mother will definitely not allow it. “If you want to prove to y/n that you love her then claim a dragon, a perfect wedding gift and I will talk to mother.” Aegon did really think his brother was going to go through with it.

-3 days later-

~Your Pov~

Waking up from the sound of your chamber doors opening, you turn to see your sisters Rhaena and Baela running in with panicked looks on their faces. “What’s wrong?” You rub your eyes trying to wake up. “Someone took Vhagar!” Baela replies. “Shit!” Getting up and putting something over your nightgown to cover you. Opening your door, you run outside with your sisters trailing behind.

Once you’re outside you see Vhagar landing and Aemond getting off. Shocked and confused on how he got her to trust him. ”Uncle what are you doing?” “Claiming my dragon dear neice.” Before you could reply Rhaena beats you too it. “You have no right! She was mine to claim!”

“Then you should’ve claimed her, maybe your cousins can find you a pig to ride, it would suit you.” Aemond snakily replied. It’s like everything flashed before your eyes. Seeing the others punch Aemond while he’s on the ground. “stop it! Right now!” Rushing over to Aemond. “Get off him.” Pushing them away. Finally getting them to separate. You thought that was the end of it,but nothing could have predicted what was about to happen as you see the blade reach aemonds face. Screaming he falls to the ground. You rush over trying to help him stop the bleeding but nothing was helping. “What did you do!? Leave and go to mother.” You watch the guards take Aemond to the maesters. Leaving you to follow.

~

A week later Rhaenyra, Daemon and the kids where all packed up and headed to Dragonstone. You on the other hand didn’t want to leave your uncles, you were close with them, and your mother didn’t like it one bit. Making you come along you watch as your uncles begged their mom to let you stay. They were heartbroken, they didn’t get to ask their mother about the hopes in marrying you. You hug them one last time before following your mother.

~ Years later~

You get down from Vermithor to see your mother waiting for you. Running your hand across his scales soothing him. He may be a grumpy old man but he’s a beauty and a stubborn one at that. It took a while to get him to trust you but in the end it was worth it. Having no dragon as a babe was tough, your father Daemon didn’t like the fact his daughter didn’t have one. He even questioned if you where his at one point. Shaking those thoughts away, you walk up to your mother. “You have another letter” Rhaenyra says looking at you, questioning if she should be looking at these letters you get almost every day.

Taking the letter from her hands, you thank her before walking to your chambers. It's a daily thing your uncles do, send you a letter every time they get a chance to.

~ Aemond's Pov~

Watching Aegon beg for something was weird for Aemond, especially begging his mother to wed him to their niece instead of Helaena but she was adamant refusing to change her mind. "You will be wed to your sister in four days." Alicent says as they watched their mother walk off after stating her decision is final.

"We need to go to Dragonstone." Aegon turns towards Aemond thinking of an idea. "And what would we do that for?" Aegon looks at him and replies "to take our niece as ours. Mother will have no say when we take our nieces maidenhood." Aemond raises a brow at his brother for such a thought, but he ponders it thinking how tight her pussy would be around his cock as he fucks his seed deep into her. Groaning at the thought he feels his cock harden and agrees.

As they head over to the Dragon Pit they both can’t help but let their mind wander with disgusting thoughts about their niece making them speed up to the pit feeling the need to claim her.

~ Your Pov~

You say your final good nights to your mother before heading to your chambers. As you walk in you see your maidens already have a bath ready for you. Stripping bare, you settle in,closing your eyes. They start with washing your hair, then onto your body after not hearing the door open. Suddenly you don’t feel their hands anymore. But no longer than a minute later their hands are back on you. The sound of the door shutting, makes you jump and open your eyes to only be met with the two princes. You gasp not expecting their intrusion before realizing they kicked your maidens out and seeing the rags are now in their hands. Sitting up, you hug them both ignoring the fact that you are bare under the bubbles.” How on earth did you guys get in here?,does my mother know? She will kill you guys!” You panic looking around before feeling a hand on your shoulder. “Your mother does not know we are here, now let’s keep it that way dear niece.” Aemond pushes your hair out of your face while leaning down to press a soft kiss to your lips. “Marry us” you could have sworn you hard your neck snap with how fast you turned your head to Aegon. Not knowing what to say, you sit there in shock.”you keep your mouth open like that I might just want to shove my cock into it.” Much to Aegons surprise you reply back, “what if I want your cock in my mouth?” “Such a dirty girl, have you been thinking about your uncles? Fucking yourself to our letters hm?” Suddenly you feel a wave of pleasure making you take your eyes off Aegon over to Aemond. Whimpering feeling him rub your already sensitive clit before slipping a finger into you. You grip his arm at the sudden intrusion. Aemond feels you buck your hips against his hand trying to catch your release but right before you break, he pulls his hand away. He hears a small whine before reassuring you that you’ll get to cum but only on their cocks. Getting out of the cold tub, you grip their pants unbuttoning their bottoms one by one but before you could finish Aegon grips your hands and pulls you towards him and slams his lips on yours. You feel Aemond pressed up behind you already naked. Tilting your head back feeling the light kisses he places on your neck before picking you up and laying you on your bed. Aegon gets undressed as Aemond hovers over you. He grips his cock and rubs it up and down your lips before slowly pushing into you. Groaning he leans his head into your neck and pushes all the way in. He looks down at you after lifting his head before asking if you are okay. With a quick nod, you wrap your legs around him in hopes he will start to move, which he takes as a hint and slowly starts moving. “So fucking tight.” He groans quickening his pace. You look over at Aegon seeing him fuck his cock with his hand making you clench around Aemond, pulling a few curses from the one eyed man above you.” You want my brothers cock in your mouth?hm? need to have your uncles cocks to feel fucked out like a whore.” You nod but that wasn’t enough for Aemond “beg for it” “please uncle I need you in my mouth,please I’ll be a good girl.” Whining feeling Aemond quicken his pace at your begging. Aegon walks up to you with his cock in his hand and taps it on your lips making you open your mouth. You feel hands grip your long platinum white hair that matches theirs. Aegon thrusts roughly not giving you a chance to get used to his size in your mouth. “Fuck your mouth feels heavenly” Aegon curses as you moan around his cock. “Yeah you like that huh such a little cock slut, I’m gonna stuff you so full of my seed, gonna make you a muña, you would like that, give us our heirs, keep you full of our seed every year, round with our children.” Whimpering you clench around Aemond. “Fuck I’m gonna cum.” Aegon thrusts harder before looking down at you asking if your close.Pulling away for a second you mumble a quick yes before reaching up and jerking off the rest of aegon that you can’t fit in your mouth. Freezing you climax clenching down cumming.You feel Aemond gripping your hips, knowing there will be bruising in the morning.

Aemond lays against you coming down from his high before kissing your forehead and lying next to you. Wiping your lips free of Aegons release you suck your finger into your mouth while making eye contact with him. Moving away he settles between your legs pumping his length already hard again. “Did you really think I was finished darling?” He chuckles before thrusting into you for round two.

A/n: Sorry if some things were messed up didn't fully proofread. This was my first House of Dragon smut so bear with me. Also, I didn't want to use High Valyrian really in this story until I'm more comfortable with writing the characters. Hope you guys liked it!

Requests are open!

Aemond Targaryen

- she’s Ours

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gold rush; part 1.

modern!aemond targaryen x fem!reader

genre. romantic comedy — inspired by 10 things i hate about you and also another movie (can you guess which one? :) ) , college/university au, eventual smut, enemies to lovers (kinda??? their relationship is complicated to explain LOL)

In all the 8 years you’ve known Aemond Targaryen, he has not spoken more than 8 words to you. In total. So why is he starting now?

warnings. aegon + viserys + ramsay being besties. oc is a bit cringe but at least she is free :’) !!

word count. 8k+

01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07

---

The days are growing chillier. The leaves on the trees are still a brilliant array of reds, oranges, and yellows; but they are starting to fall on the ground, baring the branches for the upcoming winter season. 

This means that the weekly outdoor picnic at the University’s quad that you and your friends always make time for is probably going to end soon, so Sansa Stark insists for one more before the inevitable happens. 

“Winter is Coming,” Sansa states with a heavy sigh and a shiver after you all helped her lay out the pastel gingham blanket on the ground that you are all sitting on now. 

Meera Reed makes a face at her, snorting in disbelief. “Did you just quote your family’s motto at us? Really Sansa?”

Sansa glares her way while she starts to take the lunch she had prepared out of her favorite wicker picnic basket. She huffs before insisting, “Well it is. Winter is coming .”

“Oh, it already is coming,” Margaery Tyrell smirks, already pouring out the pre-made mimosas into four mugs. “It came plenty last night…”

“Marg!” 

“What?” Margaery pouts at Sansa’s outcry of her name, feigning innocence. “I’m just saying… Stark men have quite a set of heavy b—“

“No, no,” Meera is the one to cut her off now, her palm held up to stop Margaery from finishing. “I need my appetite to eat these delicious katsu sandwiches!”

Meanwhile, Sansa is ruffling up Margaery’s perfect blowout, ordering the brunette to stop saying disgusting things about her brother, Robb, in front of her.

As you watch them, you laugh with your mouth around the rim of your mug, the taste of alcoholic, bubbly orange juice sweet on your tongue. Your friends are all ridiculous, but you love them. And perhaps, you are just as ridiculous as them. “Sansa… Is your Uncle Benjen visiting any time soon?”

“I don’t know…” Sansa eyes you suspiciously. “Why…? ”

“Cause…” There’s already a stupid smirk lifting your lips that Sansa takes a deep inhale to prepare herself. “I wanna test out Marg’s theory about Stark men and their heavy—“

You are tackled onto your back by the fiery redhead; and luckily for the both of you, you had already drunk all the mimosa in your mug before she did so. You are laughing and shrieking as Sansa shakes you by the  shoulders playfully, with Meera hollering in the back and Margaery exclaiming, “Yes! That’s my girl! Daddy Benjen is so fit!”

It must have been a strange sight to see. Four women in their early twenties having a picnic in the middle of autumn, all screaming and all toppled on top of each other on the quad of the Seven Kingdom’s most prestigious post-secondary school, Vale University. 

No one would dare approach that mess — unless they are brave. 

Or stupid. 

When a dark shadow casts over you and your friends, and someone clears their throat noisily, that is when you all pause mid-laughter to glance up at the newcomer. 

Your eyes widen comically when you are faced with gorgeously long platinum silver hair; the tiniest waist made with an expensive belted black cotton trench coat; a striking violet eye; and the most disgruntled expression you’ve ever seen in your life. 

Of course all that was none other than Aemond Targaryen. 

So in conclusion — brave and stupid. 

All four of you quickly straightened up in embarrassment but his eye was solely on you. 

“Can I talk to you?” Aemond asks, head cocking to a tree nearby. 

Dumbfounded, you nod slowly and stand up just as slow. But while you are in the process of doing so, he is already walking away. Shrugging at the confused looks of your friends, you jog after him. 

In all honesty, you have no freaking idea why he is pulling you aside either.

When the two of you make it beside the willow tree, he turns towards you. The sourness in his face doesn’t change, and you wonder why he is even talking to you because he clearly doesn’t want to be. 

In all the 8 years you’ve known Aemond Targaryen, he has not spoken more than 8 words to you. In total .

So why now?

That is when the panic start to rise in your chest, because there is only one reason he would even sought you out —

“Aemond, is your fath—“

“Are you going to the party—“

You both stop abruptly after speaking over the other. 

Now you are thoroughly confused. 

With your head tilting to the side, you repeat the little you heard him say, “The party?”

At the dumb look on your face, the tips of his ears start burning red. Aemond grimaces, then glares to the side as he answers, “Yeah, the Tyrell party tomorrow night. Are you invited?”

Your brows draw even closer together, staring at Aemond like he grew another head. “I mean, yeah… Margaery is one of my best friends…” Aemond then grunts in remembrance at the girl he just saw you with not even 5 seconds ago. He is still not even looking at you, so you pull at your sweater paws from the feeling of discomfort. “I’m not going though.”

Finally, his eye is on you. “Why not?”

You shrug. “I’m not really in a partying mood… Besides, all my friends have people they’re interested in that are going so I’m probably going to be the weird seventh wheel…”

What in the Seven Hells?!

You make a face at your own oversharing. Why did you just confess your loser status to Aemond Targaryen of all people? Why would he even care—

“Then come with me.”

Huuuuuuuuuuuuuuuh?!?!

When you realize you exclaimed that out loud and not just in your head, you slap a hand over your mouth. 

His scowl makes you explain yourself in a hurry, “Sorry! It’s just we’ve never really hung out before or, like, even had a conversation until this one, so I’m a bit… confused?”

Aemond presses his pink pout together, inhaling sharply. Then he stares at you in a way that pins you to the spot, your breath catching. “You’re right…” he frowns as he trails off. “We’ve known each other for so long and yet we’ve never made an effort to become friends—“

You’ve never made an effort, I’ve at least tried, you wanted to say, but you bite your tongue and let him keep going. 

“So I’d like to take you to the party to change that. Ramsay’s band is playing so it should be a… fun night.”

He says all that in the aloof yet cocksure air of his but you’re convinced that he is not even convinced himself. 

Because why would being in any 10-feet vicinity close to Ramsay Bolton be any fun? Also he said he’d “like” to take you to the party and yet he looks like he is being held at gunpoint to talk to you. 

Someone is definitely putting him up to this. 

To put Aemond out of his misery (and to satisfy the sniper surely aiming at his head) you say, “I’ll, um… think about it then?”

Aemond hums as an answer; sounding not quite satisfied but letting it be. 

And you thought that would be it. Like he’ll be like well, I tried! — shrugs shoulders and flippantly throws his hands up — oh well! but just as you say your soft goodbye and begin to walk away, Aemond calls your name. 

Wait a second — he knows your name???

You balk, once again staring at him wide-eyed. This time he ignores the look, or at least doesn’t react to it outwardly, and says, “You have my number, right?”

I literally didn’t even know you even knew my name, you almost answer, but instead you went with a simple, “No.”

He lets out a discontented hmm… like somehow that was your fault. He then fishes his phone out of his pocket and then hands it to you. On the screen is the new contact section. 

He didn’t even need to say anything, his domineering stare was enough for you to promptly type in your information on his phone. 

When you hand it back, his thumb swiftly moves on the screen. A second later, you felt the familiar vibration of a new text in the back pocket of your jeans. 

“Text me if you’re coming, I’ll pick you up,” is all Aemond says before he is already walking away and up the hill of the quad to the path leading to one of the university’s libraries. 

You watch his retreating back for a minute before finally heading back to your friends. 

“What was that?!” Margaery is the first of your friends to ask, but you can tell they are all piqued with interest and confusion. They know that you and Aemond go way back yet don’t have a semblance of a proper history, and that he has never sought you out like that before. 

So as you stare at the text that Aemond sent you:

I hope you’ll come to the party. It’ll be nice if you do. 

All you can tell your friends is:

“I honestly don’t even know.”

--

As soon as your last class for the day was let out at 6 PM, you book it to the nearest bus stop and luckily make it just as soon as the bus pulls up.

You would think for a busy and populated university campus, the public transportation schedule would be better. But alas, most of the students that attend Vale U are trust fund babies and have the most expensive cars and/or drivers that take them anywhere they want to go. 

Not you though. You pretty much live paycheque to paycheque. Although you are lucky enough to have only one job that could sustain your living expenses. 

That is where you are heading now, your part-time job at one of the homes in the #3 Wealthiest Neighborhoods of all of Westeros according to Baelish Times. 

The gated neighborhood of Eyrie Heights sits on the tallest cliff in the region of the Vale. Of course since it is the home of many famous celebrities and important political figures, the nearest bus stop to the front gates of the community is a 45 minutes walk away — you make that trek back and forth at least four days every week. 

You’re used to it so it’s not so bad, and the security guards at the gates are super friendly and would always drive you to your final destination in their golf cart. Today was no different, and you are dropped off at one of the many mansions in the neighborhood belonging to the governing family of the Vale, the Arryn’s. 

“Thanks Grenn!” You call out after hopping off the cart and waving goodbye to your ride. 

“No problem!” He waves back with a wide grin. “Say hey to Mr. T for me!”

You give him a thumbs up before turning your heels to walk up the stone pathway leading to the ivory mansion fit for a king.

It definitely is one of the most gorgeously built homes you’ve ever seen. It is an older mansion but properly maintained with the prettiest front garden and perfect shrubbery. The white bricked walls are paired with dark navy blue shingle roofing, which looks lovely during the hotter months but gorgeous when everything is blanketed with white snow. What does it for you though is the huge oval arched windows and the balconies on the second and third floors with the pillars — it was what caught your wide eyes when you first saw it eight years ago when your mother held your hand and dragged you up the same pathway you are currently walking on. Although it is an Arryn family mansion, the man living there now is the widower of an Arryn woman and he is the one you are caring for.

After you climb up the three tiers of stoned steps with the dragon statue water fountain in the center, you pick up the packages and letters at the front door that he received the past two days you haven’t checked up on him before unlocking the door with your set of keys and stepping inside.

“Viserys?” You shout out, locking the door behind you. From somewhere still on the ground floor, you hear the one you are calling for respond back, In here!

With the packages and a hefty bag you’ve pulled out from a closet near the front door, you head to where you assume ‘in here’ is. 

You end up at one of the rooms in the back of the mansion. It does not even surprise you that this is where you find your patient/friend in the huge home — it is the room he is often in if he is not in his master bedroom or kitchen. The conservatory is as beautiful as every part of the house, but anyone can tell it’s the most loved. With its high windowed ceiling and the windowed walls, the brilliant sun can be clearly seen setting on purple and pink skies. But you knew that and luxurious furnishing wasn’t the reason why Viserys Targaryen favored that room so much — for every other room has the same luxury feel to it — but it is because this room is where him and his first wife would always spend time together during the first few years of their marriage before they moved back to Viserys’ ancestral home in King’s Landing. 

“This room is also the only one we were allowed to spend time in while I was courting her,” you remember Viserys recalling to you and your mother one time with a hearty chuckle. He then pointed outside, where the pool is. “Her father would grill out there, pretending it’s for lunch or dinner. But he was really just keeping a close eye on me to not do anything unsavory. Aemma was always so embarrassed because she said her father didn’t even like barbecue ribs that much. ”

With a smile at that memory of his memory, looking towards the many picture frames in the room that hold weathered photos of the ethereal looking woman who still held the heart of a man even 25 years after her death. 

You turn to watch that man now, hunched over beside a big and long table in the middle of the room occupied fully by miniature statues and structures to resemble the once glorious city of the now ruined Old Valyria. 

Viserys is so consumed with whittling away at a block of soapstone that he did not even notice that you were already in the room. 

While putting down his packages and letters on a side table near the door, you call his name again. He turns to you with a bit of a jolt, before his lips spread into a soft smile. “Sorry, my dear… I’ve just been so focused because my hands are being very agreeable today.”

You laugh, nodding in understanding while walking to where he is sitting. 

“How was the commute here?” Viserys asks while you pull out what you needed in the heavy bag you put down on the ground. 

You shrug nonchalantly as you wrap the blood pressure band around his arm. “Awful like always, but I’ll live.”

The balding platinum haired man frowns at that. “I really wished you’d let me hire a chauffeur for you.”

You chuckle, writing down his numbers on your phone’s notes app and moving on to test his blood sugar level. “And I told you, I spend way too much on my monthly bus pass for you to do that. Besides, I like taking public transportation—“ Viserys gives you a look. “… Sometimes.”

Once you have all of Viserys’ numbers for the day and nothing concerning pops up, you text everything to his primary nurse who visits him once a week, Samwell Tarly. 

As you get a text back from Sam -– “Thank you, ____! 😀” — Visery slowly sits up and asks, “A little game of Cyvasse for old time sakes?”

You groan and frown deeply in a way that definitely shows your age of twenty-two, but you follow him anyway to the table in one of the corners of the room with the Cyvasse game on top. 

Not even ten minutes later, Viserys sighs heavily as he watches you make another wrong move. Honestly, you’ve tried plenty of times to understand this board game but it is just lost on you. At this point, you are just moving pieces you think are the ugliest so they can be taken off the board quicker.

“When is your family visiting?” Visersy asks while taking out another one of your pawns, only four of your pieces left on the board versus his fifteen. “Your father is the only one that gives me a challenge in this game and I miss that — well, your father and my younger brother.”

You shrug, moving a piece that he just knocks over a second later. Honestly, he can be playing the game just as bad as you and you would be none the wiser. “Probably not anytime soon. Autumn is the busiest season at Ironrath with the ironwood and all.”

Viserys hums, winning the game. Then he looks straight at you. “You know, your mother called yesterday–”

“Ugh…” your head falls dramatically, already knowing what he is probably going to say next.

“She said you haven’t been picking up her calls and barely answering her messages.”

Yup, there it is.

You stand up, walking over to the table where you dropped off the packages and pick it up to bring to him. 

“It’s not that I’ve been avoiding her. I’ve just been so busy – with classes, extracurriculars, this job…” you tell him as you hand him a package decorated with silver star stickers from his daughter Helaena at King’s Landing, a postcard from Dorne from his grandsons’ Jace and Luke who are vacationing there at the moment, and a letter from Otto Hightower — his father-in-law from his second marriage. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure to call her tonight.”

“Is this job too much on top of all of your studies?” Viserys asks, full of concern. “Because—“

“No, it’s not this job,” you reassure him. “I’m just shit at time management. Sansa’s helping me out with that though.”

“Well I hope you are at least taking time for yourself. Your youth should be spent having fun and not being stressed about the future.”

Easier said than done, you think but you let him know instead, “My friends and I had a picnic today. That was fun! And—” Hold on, you just remembered something, “ I … actually got invited to a party tomorrow night… by Aemond.”

At the mention of his son, Viserys’ head tilts in confusion. “Aemond…? I didn’t know you two were friends.”

You scoff out a chuckle. “We’re not… That’s what’s weird about it.”

Viserys hums in thought for a while then smiles at you. “I think you should go to the party with him!”

You make a face and he chuckles, encouraging further, “I’m being serious! My son needs a good influence like you in his life… and under that cold exterior, I know my boy is as sweet as can be. Just give him a chance!” 

Sweet is the last word you would use to describe Aemond Targaryen. Maybe agreeable would have been more suitable. But you know how much Viserys loves his family – as distant as they all may be from him – so you just let it go with a sigh.

And like you told his son earlier, you tell him the same with a tight smile, “… I’ll think about it…”

--

Turns out, you didn’t even need to think about it. 

No. No thinking was involved. 

Not when you are basically kidnapped out of your apartment. As soon as you get home from the library, you are being grabbed around the waist hauled up and out of your modest and tiny living space. 

“How dare you ! You are supposed to be on my team! Team Always Stay At Home Like Gremlins!” You seethe furiously at your best friend and roommate, Jon Snow, who has a hold of your feet to stop you from kicking the man who has you on his shoulder. 

“I know ! I’m sorry, but… Margaery told me to…” Jon says with a weary and apologetic smile. “And plus… Sansa’s going to the party.”

“She’s your cousin, you weirdo !” You bite back at him, and from over your shoulder you can see he is just blushing profusely, unperturbed by the accusation you threw at him. Under you, Theon Greyjoy is laughing so hard in that annoying way of his, so you warn him, “Don’t even get me started with you, buddy.”

He shuts his mouth rather quickly after that.

You are hauled into the car waiting at the front of the apartment, and when you settle in as comfortably as you could after getting tossed into the backseat by Theon, you are faced with Robb and Meera peering back at you from the front seats. 

“Where’s Sansa and Marg?” You ask once the car pulls away, sandwiched between Jon and Theon. 

“Oh, you know… taking a million hours to get ready,” Robb says as he turns right on a street that the robotic lady navigating him tells him to turn at — heading to Loras Tyrell’s penthouse. 

You gesture down at your own outfit — a cream oversized Vale U hoodie and loose blue jeans. “And I didn’t get the same courtesy because…?”

You are not even going to mention your unstyled hair and lack of makeup. 

Meera playfully rolls her eyes. “You look great… like always.”

You stick your tongue out at her while grabbing your phone out of your pocket. 

To Aemond — Heeeeey! I’m coming to the party! You don’t need to pick me up, I have a ride and I’m already on my way there! — see you soon 😃 !

Then before you have a chance to put it away, you notice the little message typing bubble pop up and you wait for a few seconds, and then…

Your mouth gapes open in offense. 

The asshole leaves you on read. 

--

“Maybe he got distracted with something,” of course it’s Jon trying to reason and be practical about the whole situation, always trying to give people the benefit of the doubt. Sometimes it just sounds like he is playing devil’s advocate — like this time, since it involves Aemond “The Ice Prince” Targaryen. “Didn’t you say he was typing something before he didn’t respond at all?”

“I think he is just a right royal prick,” Robb states, which makes the girl he has his arms around giggle.

All your friends are stuffed into an elevator now heading up to the party at Margaery’s brother’s place. And instead of being excited for the night since Loras usually throws the best parties, you’re just pissed off, staring at the read receipt you’ve gotten more than 20 minutes ago. 

“Thank you, Robb!” You appreciate that you at least have someone on your side on this. 

“Watch though, as soon as we step inside, he’ll be a blubbering mess and he’ll tell you he couldn’t respond because the ____ ____ actually messaged him back,” Margaery predicts, somewhat jokingly. 

“Now that I can’t ever see happening in a million years!” Theon snickers. “Do you see what she’s wearing?”

Gasping, you slap his arm. “You said I looked fine, you dick!”

“Meera said you looked fine, I didn’t say nor agree with anything!”

With your friends laughing at yours and Theon’s shenanigans and just when you were about to hit him again, the door of the elevator opens to the sound of smooth R&B. 

“Is that…?” You trail off, listening closely when you step out the elevator. Once you recognize the artist singing live for the party guests, you hit Theon’s arm multiple times out of excitement. “GREY WORM?!”

You ignore Theon’s whining and pouting about how you are hurting him (you weren’t, he’s just being dramatic) to squeal with Sansa – who also loves the up and coming vocalist just as much as you do. 

Sansa links her arm around yours and the two of you set off to the huge living area to join the crowd dancing and singing along with Grey Worm. 

Margaery and Robb find the two of you later in the middle of the dancefloor, still dancing and singing your lungs out. They bring with them four little cups, and after toasting with your friends, you knock back your first shot for the night — and definitely not the last.

After Grey Worm plays his last encore song for the night, you boo lightheartedly with the crowd making the handsome Astapori laugh, promising he’ll be back in the Vale soon for a proper concert. When he steps off the “stage” (which was just a 6 inch platform) he kisses the most gorgeous woman you’ve ever seen and you almost want to boo seriously because how are you supposed to compete with that?!

You pout with Sansa, both your dreams dashed in an instant. As the DJ returns to her booth, the room is shaken with the loud bass of HEATED by Beyoncé – the most popular artist in all six continents of the world – you turn to Margaery to ask, “Why was Grey Worm the opening act and Ramsay’s dark-sided heavy metal band the main one for the night?”

Margaery sighs and rolls her eyes, “Well, Renly just signed Ramsay’s band to his label so my brother wanted to be the ever supportive boyfriend… I told him to switch it around but when he asked Ramsay, the manchild threw a fit…”

“Of course he did,” Sansa says, shaking her head in mild disbelief. 

“Let’s stop talking about the prick and have some fun before he inevitably goes on that stage, yeah?” Robb suggests, and you all agree with him, deciding not to let Ramsay ruin your night. Maybe later, when he does start his set, you can all just head to the outdoor balcony with the pool and mini bar.  

You stay dancing with your friends until the song ends before you part with them to grab yourself another drink. You were also incredibly hot, so once you were out of the crowd, you pull off your hoodie, now only wearing a white tank top – very Olivia Rodrigo chic. You toss the hoodie onto one of the couches, knowing no one here will ever steal Vale U merch (and if someone does, it’s whatever) and then you head to the bar. You take another shot while you order a peach bellini and as you wait for your drink to be made, your eyes scan the room. The party is in full swing now and there has to be more than fifty people in this room alone, so there must be plenty more in other areas of the penthouse. Just as you get your drink, you notice someone from the corner of your eyes standing against the wall by a loveseat pretty close to you. 

The guy who left you on read, Aemond Targaryen. 

You suppose you weren’t pissed off anymore (and perhaps Jon was right that he got distracted by something) so you decide you should at least say hi. With your drink in hand, you walk to him and you have to admit… He is looking pretty good tonight. The black silk button up shirt he has on fits so nicely against his body and it is tucked into an equally as tight leather pants that left no room to the imagination. You might have drooled a little, you’re not even going to lie. 

As you approach him, his eye lands on you, taking in you in a way that makes you feel like he is devouring you whole. His mouth parts slightly while his thumb starts to skim across the rim of the glass cup of whiskey on ice he is holding. Maybe it’s the shots you’ve taken, or maybe Meera was right — maybe you do look good.

You were so distracted by how handsome he looks that you didn’t even notice the company he is with until it was too late. 

“Well, well… Isn’t this a nice surprise, angel eyes?” Is what you hear when you are about to say hello to Aemond. As you grimace at the sound of his voice, Aemond looks between you and the man sitting on the couch he is beside. 

Ramsay takes away the arm he has around the girl who is sitting with him to put both his elbows on his knees and clasps his hands together, leaning forward to regard you closer. 

“Finally ready to make nice again, sweetheart?” Ramsay asks you, that infuriating smirk on his lips. 

“You two know each other?!” Aegon Targaryen — Aemond’s older brother by three years — questions like he cannot believe it to be true. You wish it wasn’t true. But sadly, it is. You went on five dates with the scumbag just last year. 

“No,” you tut out at the same time Ramsay replies, “She’s my ex.”

“Ex?!” you scoff out with a laugh. “We went on, like, five dates, my dude.”

Ramsay gasps mockingly, grabbing onto his chest. “Oh sweetheart, how you wound my fragile heart. I thought what we had was special!”

You roll your eyes, but decide not to give him the satisfaction of another reply from you. So you turn to Aemond instead, throwing him a very expectant smile but you are met with a carefully neutral expression. You falter slightly under his stare, licking your lips and then pressing it together before you tell him, “Hey, uh, sorry I didn’t come here with you. I got pretty much held hostage by my friends as soon as I got home from school.”

Aemond nods slowly with a throaty hum. “It’s fine.”

Feeling several eyes on you, you mirror the bob of his head as you wait for him to say something — anything — else. 

“Are you… having fun?” You ask, breaking first.

Eye still on you, Aemond shrugs nonchalantly. But after a couple of seconds, he turns his head away, looking to the side as he takes a sip of his drink, then keeps his stare at the dancing crowd as if you weren’t even standing in front of him.

You let out a humorless chuckle, trying not to feel rejected. 

“Okay, then… Great talk,” you murmur, then you promptly walk away before you humiliate yourself any further. 

What is his deal ?

First he invites you to this stupid party, then he leaves you on read, and now he makes you a fool in front of all his friends…

Honestly… It’s on you for expecting anything different.

--

Once you turn to leave, Aemond is quick to watch you walk away with an indecipherable look on his face. Never once taking his eye off you until you eventually blend into the crowd. 

“Was that her?” Vis asks — a distant cousin of Aemond’s, with the same name as his dad (a Targaryen thing; after the 10th generation they just became less and less creative and started reusing the same 10 names). “Is that the girl?” 

“Yesss , it issss!” Aegon answers in a sing-song, slurring his words from the many shots and bottles of beer he has downed already. 

“The girl?” Ramsay questions, frowning in confusion. Meanwhile, Vis grimaces in disgust, muttering something rude about your outfit.

“The girl Aemond needs to trick into falling in love with him,” Aegon supplies, walking over to his younger brother to wrap his arm around the taller man. With his hand grasping tight on Aemond, Aegon shakes him and sharply hisses in his ear, “And you’re already fucking it up, little brother.”

With a scowl, Aemond jerks aggressively, successful with getting his brother off of him with a shrug of his shoulder and an elbow into Aegon’s stomach.

“Ooooh , ___ is the girl?” Ramsay exclaims, blue eyes lighting up with excitement at the remembrance of what they had all talked about about a week ago. “You should have told me earlier, and I wouldn’t have said all that… Now, I just reminded her of all the good times we had together–” Winking at Aemond, he finishes with, “It’s going to be tougher for you now, little Aemond.”

Aemond scoffs, eyes rolling off to the side. 

Vis’ younger sister, Dany, turns to Ramsay, her thick and pretty brows drawing together in confusion. “Isn’t that the girl that blocked you on all her social media accounts?”

“Yeah,” Ramsay’s head rolls slowly from one side to the other as if saying ‘what of it?’. “Because she was so madly in love with me and was so distraught to find out she wasn’t the only girl I was dating at the time…”

At that, Aemond decides it’s time to tune Ramsay’s annoying ass out. He huffs out, finishing his drink to leave his group of… people he hangs out with, to get another at the bar. 

He feels someone following behind him, but they don’t make themselves known until they are both standing by the bar.

“You’re acting like a bigger asshole than you usually are tonight,” Alys Rivers tells Aemond without any prompting after they order their drinks. Just as he was about to roll his eye for the hundredth time that evening, Alys shakes her head and holds a finger up, “ Don’t roll your eye at me… You know I’m right.”

Aemond sighs and says nothing because she is right, and so he sips on his drink instead as soon as it is slid towards him. 

Alys turns her whole body towards him, direct and headstrong like always when she tells him,  “How do you expect her to fall in love with you even just a little bit if you treat her like that?”

Aemond holds her gaze for only a few seconds before it drops down to the clinking of melting ice in the cup he had placed on the bar table. “This is the stupidest plan I’ve ever agreed to be a part of.”

The only person that he actually likes in his so-called friend group lets out a short chuckle, reminding him, “I’m pretty sure I told you that when Aegon first mentioned it.” 

Aemond lets out a dissatisfied hum, bringing his glass up to his mouth to take another swallow. 

“You know you can just… not do it. Leave the poor girl alone.”

Aemond frowns. “I’m already in it.”

Alys snorts at that. “Barely.”

Then Aemond goes quiet, deep in thought. Because once again, Alys is right. He can just back out, let Aegon do this stupid plan. Why should he waste his time on this? Waste his time with you? 

But then again… He doesn’t trust his brother to do anything right. So in the end, it has to be him.

“I have to do it,” he says in a way that leaves no room for doubt. “You know what’s at stake, Alys.”

At that, Alys sighs heavily and nods in relent. “Right. Of course…” Then she offers him an encouraging smile. “At least we now know it won’t be that hard for her to fall for you… She did date Ramsay after all…”

Aemond lets out a combination of a snort and a chuckle, tipping his glass towards Alys. “You’re right.”

Her small smile spreads into a bigger one, eyes rolling teasingly. “I’m always right, Aemond. You should know that by now,” then as she clinks her glass against his, she adds, “And I have one more prediction with this idiotic plan of yours.”

Leaning on the elbow he has rested on the table, Aemond tips his head to the side and decides to humor her with a question, “And what’s that?”

With a secretive smirk, Alys brings her wine glass up to her dark red lips and says before taking a sip, “You’re going to accidentally fall for her first.”

And for the first time in forever, Aemond actually lets out an uncharacteristically loud laugh, gazing incredulously at his friend like she has gone crazy.

Because that will never, ever happen. Not in a million years.

--

Much to your surprise, it is Gendry Baratheon who pulls you out of your sour mood with his silly jokes and cute flirty comments.

When he asks you to dance, you glance discreetly to Sansa for permission but she is too busy canoodling with her cousin , so you look towards the next best option — Robb. The oldest Stark sibling gives you a thumbs up. Their younger sister, Arya, dated the hot architecture major but dumped him before she dropped out of uni just the previous year to travel the world and learn from experience instead of books. 

You’re glad for his approval, because as you grind your hips against Gendry’s with his hands tight on your waist, you realize how much you are a sucker for pretty boys with dark hair and light eyes. That’s probably the only reason you swiped right on Ramsay.

“You know, I’ve been wanting to talk to you for a while…” Gendry simmers, the pupils in his bright blue eyes blown with desire, pressing himself even firmer against you. Very firm indeed. 

“Yeah?” You smirk with an adorable tilt of your head, threading your fingers into the hair on the nape of his neck, bringing his face down closer to yours. “And why didn’t you?”

His long dark lashes flatter, eyes roaming your face as he murmurs somewhat absentmindedly, “You really don’t know how intimidatingly gorgeous you are, do you…?”

After a gleeful giggle, you let out a soft sigh as you lean in at the same time, wanting to close the distance between your lips. But just when your mouth is about to touch Gendry’s chapped yet alluring lips, you are being yanked away from him rather harshly with a hand that had just clasped around your elbow. At the rather disorienting motion of the pull, you end up smacking face first into the chest of the person who is the culprit of the rude interruption. 

The guy smells so goddamn good that you almost melt into him, until you remember why your nose is pressed onto him in the first place —

“What the heck?!” You cry out, prying yourself away from the person to glare at them. What you find is Aemond staring down at you before he glances over at the man behind you. 

“It’s a bit of a bastard move to try and stick your tongue down the throat of someone else’s date, don’t you think, Baratheon?” 

Both yours and Gendry’s mouth drop at Aemond’s accusatory statement. 

DATE?! WHAT IS THIS SCUMBAG ON ABOUT?!

“Sorry, man… I honestly didn’t know you two were a thing…” Gendry apologizes to Aemond, then looks at you longingly before he walks away, muttering under his breath, “Seven Hells, I need another drink.”

“Wait, Gen …” you trail off when he glances at you in a way that makes you falter, shaking his head with a heavy sigh of disappointment – which you think might not be because he thinks you’re taken but because he expected better of you to not cheat on your boyfriend . You want to stop him and tell him it wasn’t true because it’s not!

“No… come back…” You cry out pathetically, reaching out dramatically but he is already too far gone. You deflate, wallowing in your sadness for a couple more seconds until your ire strikes and you glower at the reason you did not end the night with making out with one of the hottest guys at the party. 

In the middle of the dancefloor, Aemond stands stiff rod straight with his hands clasped together behind his back, a shit-eating grin lifting his lips. 

Bitch, you declare in your mind. 

Your arms are wildly moving when you ask him incredulously, “What the hell was that?” Then quieter, you harshly whisper, “Why did you tell him I was your date?!”

“I invited you to this party, didn’t I?” Aemond questions, head cocking.

“Yeah…?”

“And you texted me you’re coming…” “You mean the text you ig–”

“So then that means you’re my date,” Aemond declares as if it’s that simple, cutting you off rudely. Then his hand clutches over his heart, pouting mockingly. “and you’ve hurt my feelings terribly by dancing with another guy.”

You might not be as sober as you thought because instead of remaining pissed off, you are actually kinda… impressed . This is the most personality you have ever seen Aemond have. A bit vindictive, sure, but at least he is not all emo sad sulking boy like you previously thought he was just. 

Though… unlucky for him… you can be quite a menace yourself. And you still haven’t forgiven him for leaving you on read, making you look dumb in front of his friends, and now cockblocking you from getting a hot piece of ass— Oh boy… You are heated all over again. 

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry, Aemond,” you say with poutiest of pouts (the one you use whenever you want something to go your way. And it usually works, just ask Jon and all the times he went out to the 24 hours convenience store a few streets down at two in the morning to grab whatever you wanted) then you mirror him, grabbing at your heart. 

Aemond’s eye flicker down from your begrudgingly cute face to where your hand lands, taking a sharp inhale as you squeeze your boob, before meeting your eyes again with his own wide, looking so confused at your sudden 180 — and also, why are you fondling yourself?! 

“How will I ever make it up to you?”

But you give him no chance to answer because you all of the sudden perk up, clapping your hands together as you exclaim, “I know! Since you wanted to dance with me so badly—“ you titter out a quite evil-sounding giggle, “— then we’re gonna dance, baby !”

Aemond frowns, shaking his head minutely, “I didn’t—“

But you’re already dancing — and quite horribly as well. Where was the rhythm you had when you were grinding with the Baratheon bastard? Aemond wonders while watching your every uncoordinated move with an unimpressed hmm. 

Little does he know, you’re dancing this bad on purpose. You can dance — maybe not as well as Meera but you can keep a rhythm. For Aemond though — your sweet, sweet date who is always so prim, proper and collected — oh how embarrassed he will be to be seen with someone who is not as perfect as him. Someone who can’t help but make a fool of herself and in turn, him , for being tied to her. 

With your fists pressing against your chest and your elbows out, you start to shake your arms back and forth. You’re actually surprised Aemond is able to hold eye contact with you… Maybe you’re not doing enough? So you suppose you need to turn it up a notch. 

And as if the DJ is your partner in crime, the next song she plays is absolutely perfect. 

I can lick it, I can ride it while you slippin’ and slidin’..

You start with something easy, dipping your hips side to side, enough to be sensual and then— 

I can do all them little tricks…

BAM!

The sprinkler! You even make the sound effect, clicking your tongue against the roof of your mouth to sound out the tcktcktcktck as you wave your arm above your head in a jerking motion. 

And keep the dick up inside it…

You jump, landing on your feet wide apart with bent and spread knees, smacking the top of your thighs loudly. Aemond’s face remains completely unfazed even though there is an audience starting to surround the two of you now. But your gaze only on each other. 

You can smack it, you can grip it…

You straighten up, turning around swiftly, slapping your butt next as you look over your shoulder at Aemond with a wink. You hear people hoot and holler — sounding a lot like Theon and Margaery. 

You can go down and kiss it…

Grinning at your friend’s encouragement, you drop down— 

All the way to the floor, laying on your front on the ground to wave your whole body, doing the worm so impressively and backwards instead of forward that the whole crowd cheers so loudly. 

You hop up just as fast onto your feet, looking down at yourself and find you were lucky enough to not have a drip of gross wetness on you from all the drinks sloshed onto the floor throughout the night. Now that’s a miracle. 

And every time he leave me ‘lone, he always tell me he miss it…

After shrugging to yourself, you make eye contact with Aemond again, stepping towards him with a sultry smirk, your fingers trailing on his body as you make your way around him, stopping behind him to breathily sing into his ear the next part…

He want a F-F-R-EEeeEee-A-K…

You suppress the giggle when you feel him shiver. Probably out of disgust and mortification — and you couldn’t be more proud of yourself. 

You move again, to complete your circling around him, finally almost in front of him again—

F-F-R-Eee—-

“—EEP!” 

That was you, bleeting louder than the music, all because you were suddenly grabbed by the waist and dipped down low by none other than Aemond Targaryen. 

The crowd goes wild, thinking that what is happening in front of them is a risqué kiss between the Ice Prince and the weird dancing girl. But it is not that all, because what Aemond’s pretty long hair has hidden from view of prying eyes is not a stolen kiss, but it’s his burning gaze on you as he growls a little too ferally, “You think you’re real cute, don’t you, love?”

As he impressively keeps the two of you in that position, his arm solidly around your waist and his other hand cupping the back of your head so gently, you can’t help but really look at him for the first time in your life. It’s hard to deny it, but he really is so easy on the eye. The slope of his nose is enviously perfect, his violet eye the brightest and most vibrant out of all his family, and…

Though he did not move one inch during your dance for him, Aemond is breathing quite as heavily as you are. The puff of his hot breath on your mouth has you looking down, and his eye follows where you look.

Aemond’s lips… They look so soft and the shape of them so sharp at the edges… You kind of want a feel of them against yours. Just to see…

His tongue peeks out, wetting his mouth, and you blink slow in rapt attention. Once he is done, you flutter your lashes, glancing back up to meet his gaze from beneath them. 

He is too undeniably pretty, it’s unfair!

If Aemond is moving closer towards you, you don’t notice. Your nerves are getting the better of you, all thoughts have gone out the window. 

And that is why you so suddenly blurt out with a crooked smile, “So… ya like jazz?”

Aemond’s features twist into one of confusion before he starts to laugh as he pulls the both of you up to stand. The crowd has disappeared, onto the next big thing — a fight that broke out in the kitchen. But you and Aemond stay, with also a few stragglers still dancing. 

You burn with embarrassment. This is Jon’s fault! He’s the one who suggested to watch The Bee Movie last night. And you know what’s also his fault? The reason you were born in the first place! If his mom — your god mother Lyanna, and also your mom’s best friend — hadn’t gotten knocked up by her summer fling, your mother wouldn’t have begged your dad to start a family so quickly because they’ve always wanted to have their kids grow up together. 

While you make threats at Jon Snow in your head — promising he will rue the day he was born — Aemond is still laughing, telling you, “You’re absolutely ridiculous.”

You take a chance to glance sideways at him….

The smile that lights up Aemond’s face is so gorgeous and glorious that your mouth parts in awe and your heartbeat starts to race. 

As you continue to openly stare now, it dawns on you that this is the first you’ve seen Aemond with such a genuine smile. The others were either snarky smirks or put on to appease whoever he was speaking to. 

You can’t believe he has been hiding this from the world. 

“Wow… You should smile more often,” you murmur without really thinking about it. “It looks nice on you.”

His face flattens as soon as the words leave you, pink blushing his cheeks and his ears as he swiftly turns on his heels to walk away. You don’t allow him to get far, grabbing onto his hand to pull him back towards you, whining out with laughter, “Noooo … don’t be embarrassed! I’ll shut up!”

After heaving the most exhausted sigh you’ve ever heard, Aemond turns back around to face you. You flutter your lashes at him to seem innocent, an overly optimistic smile rounding your cheeks adorably. 

“Do you want to dance?” You ask him. “Like, for real this time?”

While he eyes you warily, Aemond finds himself nodding slowly. At his acceptance, you let out a goblin like giggle of heh heh heh while you take his other hand, both of his in both of yours.

You start to move, encouraging him to do so too with the bobbing of your head in time with the beat of the music. Clearing his throat, Aemond begins to move as well… And you don’t know how but… He makes the simplest move of swaying side to side look so… painful.

“Oh, okay, wow…” You mutter, head tilting while looking down at his feet. “… Not the best footwork…”

“I thought you said you’ll shut up?” Aemond snaps with a fierce glare your way. You manage to suppress another laugh, tightly pressing your lips together to motion a pretend zipper closing across the seam of it with your fingers before lacing your hand with his again. 

You spend the next half hour teaching him how to dance. It wasn’t particularly successful, but at least you had fun!

You think Aemond did too.

He smiled and laughed more times than you can count with both your hands.

And like you told him earlier, it looks nice on him.

--

Aemond drives you home before Ramsay’s band starts their set. Not because you didn’t want to watch them (which you didn’t, but that’s besides the point) but because the worm you did actually hurt your back a little, the pain didn’t start until later. 

So as you lay in your bed, you make a note to yourself: never do the worm again. 

Scratch that. 

Never do the worm again drunk. 

Come on! You can’t completely forego a classic!

Growing more tired, you check your phone one last time. Shooting your friends messages to get home safe and also to Jon — please pick me up some pain killers 🥺. 

Then for some reason the last message conversation you open up is the one with the newest contact on your phone. 

It’s barely a conversation , you think to yourself as you stare at the glaring read receipt. And yet that doesn’t stop you from double texting. 

To Aemond — I had fun with you tonight ☺️

You turn to your side just as the all too familiar ‘…’ bubble from his side of the conversation pops up. You frown at your phone; waiting, and waiting, and waiting, and…

Your eyes light up, grinning wide with an overjoyed giggle. 

Because Aemond didn’t leave you hanging this time. Not at all. 

From Aemond — I had fun with you as well.  — Have a good night.  — Rest well and take a Poppyvil for your back.  — If it gets worse tomorrow, let me know. 

You send him back an ‘I will 🤠’ before you begin to drift off to sleep, your phone pressed to your chest and a smile on your face put on there by the last person you would ever expect to — Aemond Targaryen.

untitled playlist 🎵 nothing else i could do · ella jane

--

author’s note: i hope you guys enjoy the first part of this story :)!! i’m so so excited for the rest!! the song that will be at the end of every chapter (or maybe scattered throughout the fic, i’m not sure yet lol) is a song that the oc puts in a playlist that she unknowingly makes with aemond in mind hehe.

let me know what you think!! feedback keeps us writers motivated :)!!

THE END I CAN'T KDLAJDKSJFKSB she's so me <3

Ok so how about Rhaenyra x Harwin’s wife!reader being gay at Court and confusing the fuck out of everyone who were expecting them to hate each other.

I just know there'd be a polycule if he had been married lol

I wanted to squeeze this into Pride month, but time was not on my side. Anyway, thank you for your request. I've altered it slightly to fit my WLW agenda, but I hope you enjoy it all the same!

Warnings: Allusions to smut, but nothing too spicy. Mentions of character death. Word count: ~700

You’d never liked to share. It had been something you had learned to do because you had to. If you wanted the affection of your Princess, you’d have to accept that the Commander of the City Watch desired her too. Rhaenyra was all too eager to please you both, and so you’d settled into an arrangement which allowed for her to entertain the both of you.

By day you were the dutiful wife of Ser Harwin Strong and lady in waiting to Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen. By night you were tangled between Rhaenyra’s sheets, a deep seated ache of satisfaction settling within you as you watched her fall apart around your tongue and fingers. That was unless it was his night, and then you’d go to sleep alone, pushing down the acrid sensation of jealousy that rose within your throat, threatening to suffocate you.

It wasn’t that you minded Rhaenyra being with Harwin; your marriage to him was purely out of convenience, an alliance to placate the Strong family’s desire for him to finally settle down, and to avert suspicion of the close nature of both your relationships with the Targaryen Princess. Who would dare to question Rhaenyra spending so much time with her lady in waiting? And who could deny your lord husband for simply wishing to be in the presence of his lady wife? You felt no envy when it came to your husband, you didn’t love him, but there was plenty when it came to Rhaenyra. She’d never fully be yours.

You had done your duty in giving Harwin children - another ruse to avoid supposition - and birthed him a son and a daughter. You loved your children dearly, but had taken no joy in the act of creating them. Harwin’s body felt wrong against your own, it was hard where Rhaenyra was soft. The familiar scent of rosewater and dragon smoke you’d come to love was nowhere to be found in his natural musk. You were grateful to have struck an agreement with him upon the birth of your second daughter that no further marital visits between the two of you were necessary.

Rhaenyra’s own children bore no resemblance to Laenor, which was both amusing and unsurprising to you. You and your husband kept her so busy, she scarcely had time to couple with her own, but you had the distinct impression that she had no desire to, and neither did he. You’d overheard the whispers at court; your children and hers could have been siblings. Essentially, they were, but that was something you’d never admit aloud, and neither would she.

It is a bright, warm day and you are basking in the rosy glow of having your Princess all to yourself. Harwin has been called away to deal with a matter at Harrenhal, leaving you and Rhaenyra alone. The pair of you have spent the afternoon enjoying the Red Keep’s gardens and sipping on light peach wine, the effects of which have made you feel carefree, lightheaded and more than a little careless in the familiarity of your interactions.

You are oblivious to the pointed stares of those seated around the dining table as you wrap your lips around Rhaenyra’s fingers, lapping the viscous liquid from the tips of them as she laughs softly while hand feeding you honeyed fruits. The sweetness envelopes your tongue, causing you to emit a satisfied “mmm”, as she watches you, a hunger that you know all too well lighting up her vibrant blue eyes.

The two of you giggle recklessly as you stumble towards her quarters, not caring who sees as you haphazardly pluck at the lacing of each other’s gowns. You make no effort to be quiet when the pair of you writhe against each other, hot and sticky, as the humid air clings to every naked curve put on display. A desperate clash of lips, teeth and tongue that leaves you both exhausted but happily sated.

It is only when the morning comes and brings with it the arrival of the news of the fire at Harrenhal that your demeanour becomes more subdued. You fight the urge to smile at the revelation of your husband’s death, horrible though it is, you have never liked to share.

i wish that was me omg

IMAGINE: having Hugh the Hammer desire you, carnally.

One-sided!Velaryon!Reader x Hugh the Hammer

MDNI!

CW: One-sided pining, mildly sexist, infidelity ideation, s-xual fantasies, dub-con sorta?? reader is described as POC!

As you walk with your Queen to the council room, eyes follow you. You feel them on you and turn your head. There, standing still as a statue in the corridor is Hugh. He stands over you by a near foot, his shoulders wide and his expression always severe. You smile at him gently, and carry on with your dear sister.

Beneath the stoic facade is a man vexed. His world has changed violently over these last few nights. What’s more odd, is this feeling within him. A desire that he has never felt before.

Hugh knows it’s wrong. His wife waits for him at Kings Landing. How dare he look upon another woman with such lust. A Lady of House Velaryon, at that. He must leave to his rooms. Shameful, it is. That he flees to relieve himself of his desires so often these days. Hugh knows he should be disgusted.

Yet… when you smile at him so sweetly, something within him stirs. You speak to him with admiration, you call his bond with Vermithor, “A sign from the Seven.” It is unreal to him that a Princess would insist on calling him “Ser.” You are virtuous. You are tender. You are beauty beyond his imagination. Silky umber skin, eyes of pale violet, your hair a brighter silver than his hammer has ever touched. He could not construct from jewel or iron something comparable to you.

Beyond your charm and looks, you are kind. Not once have you spoken ill to him. You see in him everything he had ever wanted to be. In your eyes he sees a hero reflecting back at him. And he wants that to be true. Hugh once tried to tell you that, “I am no knight, your ladyship. I cannot read, nor write. I have never seen battle. I will rise to the occasion, but I have done nothing to earn your respect.”

You took his hand, fingers covered in jewels, and replied, “Your humility is a good thing, but… Vermithor has only had one rider, and he was one of our greatest kings. If he allowed your claim over him it is because he saw you equal to his last rider. I know you will bring greatness to our cause, Hugh.”

His wife never spoke to him like this. She probably thought he was dead, one of the many fools who were roasted and devoured by The Bronze Fury. And was it so vile of he, a man of Valyrian blood to want a wife of the same descent? After all, Targaryen Kings had two wives…

It became easier and easier for him to make peace with his feelings for you.

When first your face came to him in his solitary pleasures, he told himself it was his loneliness. Over time this thought passed. Hugh would lay on his back, submit himself to the softness of his bed, and think of you. The pouting of your lips. The swell of your breasts. The touch of your hand on his.

Tonight, Hugh’s hands untied the laces of his breeches and grasped his length. Already so painfully hard. As Hugh starts to stoke his cock, the fantasy truly begins. All sense leaves him as the world melts away.

His favored fantasy is of you on his bed, wearing only your jewelry. Hugh crawls over your eager body. First, he claims your lips. Your hands trail over his back and grip his shoulders before digging into his hair. Against his mouth you sigh his name. So pretty. So womanly. So… His.

“You looked beautiful today, My Lady,” he groans. “I had to take you. You understand that, do you not?”

Hands wander down your body, caressing your curves with reverence that verged on sacrilege. “You say that every time,” you say as you kiss him again. Hugh’s teeth nip at your bottom lip, as soon as your lips part his tongue pushes in. The kiss deepens with the tilt of his head. His tongue rubs against your shyer one. Both of you moaning as his hands continue to rub and squeeze you, grasping your soft buttocks in each hand.

He breaks the kiss, panting. Gripping your ass hard, he raises you to bring your wet cunt closer to his cock. You gasp and grip his hair by the root. He hisses in pain but bucks his hips at the same time. Pain and pleasure.

The head of his manhood rubbed slowly against your warmth, “So wet. Do you think of me as I do you? Petting your sweet cunt, wishing it was my mouth?”

You give no answer, whimpering in pleasure and embarrassment. His mouth latches to your throat and his right hand slips under your knee to raise it. The fat head of his cock is prodding your opening. Teasing. He won’t enter though. It’s all to make you gasp and beg— “Not yet, my love! T-Too big… I need more of your touch.”

He laughs darkly as he drops your knee to cup both of your breasts. Kissing and sucking each one he says, “You will adjust, My Lady.”

His hips thrust and he fills you. You throw your head back in ecstasy and he gives you no room to breathe. As a fantasy, he can forget your pain or your maidenhead. In reality, he is alone in his bed— fucking his fist with a blanket between his teeth to stifle his grunting. All that matters is the vision of you taking his cock. Nails digging into his shoulders and legs wrapped tight around his waist. Both of you sweating, moaning, lost to pleasure before he fills you with his seed.

It’s only when he feels that seed cooling against his own hand that the fantasy ends. And once more, he is alone. A man of middle-age, his wife alone in Kings Landing, pleasuring himself to a woman who will never have him.

Hugh cleans himself weakly and falls asleep with guilt heavy in his gut. He would like to pretend that this will be the last time he does this, but he knows the truth. All it will take is to see you again, to hear your laugh, to smell your perfume… and he will be mad with his wants again.

It’s a ruthless cycle.

please, i beg for some hugh the hammer smut. that's it.

For your health, of course

Aegon II x Baratheon Reader

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Fluff and smut, wg progression, CHONK!Aegon, hand feeding, belly kink, infertility/fertility issues, post!Dance au, they’re in love and everything is perfect okay, health issues, oral sex (m!receiving), hand jobs, mentioned fingering and cunnilingus

A/N: I almost put this on my other blog but fuck it I don’t consider this too The Other Kink to not post. Me love thick men thanks @lovelykhaleesiii for the plot ideas

Aegon came back to the throne skinny, sickly, and surly. He was irritated from the shattered bones and having to rule over an even more shattered kingdom he never wanted in the first place.

You were his new wife, married quickly after he had returned. Aegon liked having you around, requesting you stay by his side at all times. The Dowager seemed to be annoyed as she couldn’t get her son alone to debate how to navigate the still burning coals of war.

You tried to get to know him better, idly chatting away as he drank strongwine. Aegon hollowly stared at you one day and said, “I have nothing to talk about, I like listening to you.” So you had to start bringing books in for entertainment. But the feeling of something missing was in the back of your mind.

Staring at a painting of Aegon on his coronation day brought forth what.

The young king in that photo was robust, handsome, and definitely well fed. You couldn’t do anything about the scars…but maybe some flesh on his bones would help with aches and pains. The Targaryen rarely ate, preferring to drink or sip on soup.

So at your nightly private dinner you ordered the servants to bring heavier options, meats and sweets, bread and pudding. Aegon eyes widened and he grumbled, “I can’t possibly eat that.” You moved to the seat closest to him and prodded, “Why not? You look like a wandering septon.”

Violet eyes turned up at you. He stared at the feast and his mouth twisted slightly. Aegon bitterly remarked, “Because that’s what the Maester told me. Gods, I’m a buffoon. They just want me weak and drunk all the time!” He threw his hands up in anger, cursing himself.

You smiled sweetly, forking a piece of ham to his still frowning mouth, “Eat up then, this will make you stronger.” Aegon opened and took a generous bite, moaning around the flavor. You hummed, “Good. You’ll be feeling better in no time, my lord husband. Show them how wrong they were.”

It was off to the races by that exact moment. Aegon’s notorious appetite of his youth had returned, ten-fold. He requested large feasts for every meal, even beginning to invite some of the lords milling around the place to break up their plotting.

Aegon would often be exhausted after a particularly long day, forcing himself around on that cane in the Keep. He’d plop down in a comfortable chair and you’d hand feed him, cooing, “You’ve worked so hard today, just let me take care of you.”

He would sigh, “You’re too good to me.”

You’d happily do this every second if it got him to smile, that rare, beautiful smile. He’d relax and drink and eat, opening diligently for whatever he dictated you’d bring to his mouth. You didn’t know if you loved him yet, but this made you feel very…warm inside.

You were doing needlepoint next to Aegon, who watched the Blackwater wistfully. He munched on some honey cakes and grapes, having developed a habit for keeping his mouth occupied. You had a feeling the morsels kept him grounded from whatever hellish memories kept the king up at night.

The Dowager Queen entered the chambers, stiff and dressed in black. A new Kingsguard stood behind her, aloof as ever. She delicately perched on a seat, staring at you two. Aegon grumbled, “What is it mother? More spies under the keep? Cregan Stark is on the spires?”

Her pretty mouth thinned, looking so much like Aegon. Alicent wrung her hands together and said, “No, nothing of that sort. I wanted to say you look healthier. Maybe the Maester could check your, ahem, potency soon.” Aegon dramatically groaned around a lemon cake, “Always an ulterior motive, yes! In front of my darling wife.”

You stated, “I do not wish to injure him trying to copulate. I feel this is a private matter between the Maester and us, My Queen.”

She huffed, “Do please meet with them soon, we need an heir.”

Poor Jaehaera was scarcely considered, the child strange and gloomy. Aegon tried his best, the girl often climbing into your shared bed weeping, your husband trying to console her. She was shy of you, but had warmed up some when the princess saw you make Aegon laugh.

After Alicent had left Aegon shoved another lemon cake down his throat. He murmured between smacks, “I don’t trust the gods damned maesters. Not one.” You grabbed his scarred hand and promised, “I’ll be right there with you. I- I’d love to have a child of yours, if the gods allow for it.”

His violet eyes grew glossy and he rasped, “Fine. We go to them on the morn, my sweet.”

Aegon was flushed and very aggravated in the Grand Maester’s quarters. You knew he was self conscious about the scarring and the withered leg he refused to rid of. A blanket lay over his lap, him looking down sullenly. You sat in a corner of the room, hands folded in your lap.

He’d gained some weight, you’d noticed that now that you saw his pale and scarred flesh in the buff. Where ribs once poked through was a soft layer of padding, a small roll creasing his tummy. His arms were more built from the cane, but you could see a bit of softness. Aegon’s hips had flared out.

Heat settled on your cheeks. Your husband looked very good, soft and sweet. You couldn’t help but imagine how more flesh would sit on his delicate Targaryen bones. The jingling of chains alerted the pair of you, the old Maester shuffling in. You relocated to Aegon’s side, holding a hand. He looked up at you and murmured, “You may not want to see this.”

Hardening your gaze you stated, “You’re my husband, I will cherish every bit of you.”

Your heart fluttered watching the stress dial down across his body. Aegon pulled your palm to his mouth, pressing a soft kiss. Orwyle rasped, “So we need to check on fertility, hm?” Aegon snapped, “Why else would I be here? Obviously she’s not broken and burnt.”

The Maester chuckled softly, used to the King’s outbursts. He murmured, “Lay back, I need to check you.” Aegon reluctantly leaned back, closing his eyes tight as Orwyle pulled back the blanket. You stared at the withered leg, frowning in sadness. His other leg, although still healing, had thickened up slightly.

“I see you’ve been having a healthy appetite again,” he noted.

“Because my darling wife cares about me and my health. My aches have lessened.”

“Mhm. Yes.” Aegon gritted his jaw as his cock and sac was felt and checked. Orwyle noted, “You’re producing sperm, but no copulation. We must get your seed and artificially enter it in the Queen.” You spoke, “Can we do this act in private? Ah- the collection part?”

Orwyle waved a gnarled hand, “Yes, of course, I will have to inseminate you quickly after.”

Awkward visit over, Aegon was struggling on his cane, sitting down on a bench with a huff. You nuzzled into his soft hair, teasing, “Not too bad. I have heard the seed takes better when the woman has had her own release.” The king laughed deeply, “Oh, I’ll take care of you. Make Orwyle cover his ears for a bit.”

You pecked his sweet lips, humming. Your hand skated down to his belly, just slightly straining the fabric that once hung off his frame. With a purr you commented, “You are looking very healthy and handsome my lord.” He looked wide eyed at you, eager for some sort of praise, “You think so?”

“Yes, no longer on death’s doorstep, but we’ve got a long way Hm?”

He agreed heartily, belly rumbling as if on cue. More and more eating processed, Aegon seeming to grow more confident with the extra padding. You made sure your husband didn’t have to lift a finger, feeding and pampering him, washing and helping him dress.

Add the lack of mobility and Aegon’s tendency to travel by litter— the weight had piled on much faster than expected. Far exceeding what that original painting you’d scene. But instead of disgust, you grew aroused at his increasing weight and happier moods.

The first few sessions of ‘collection’ were definitely arousing. You’d grope and knead at fatty flesh, hand running tight strokes around his cock. One session he’d busted his doublet after eating a meal and squirming around your slick fist. You’d quivered and came watching his thick belly poke out between shredded fabric, riding Aegon’s scarred fingers.

One cane turned to two to support his heavier weight. You’d ever heard servants complaining about how heavy the King had gotten. He seemed to not pay any mind nor register any weight.

Laying in bed together one night, you idly stroked his swollen belly, bloated with mead and meats of all sorts. This was a far cry from the slim layer of fat lining his body. Aegon’s cheeks thickened, jaw softened, chest swollen. You marveled at his fat sides and rapidly growing stomach. And do not get you started on watching his one thigh grow wobbly and thick.

“Should I cut back on the food,?” he asked.

You raised your brows, replying, “Why do you say that my love?”

“Mother said I’ve gotten rotund, that it’s unseemly.”

You frowned and curled tighter into his soft side while humming, “You look good, happy, and so very arousing to me. A king doesn’t need to change for anyone.”

Aegon eyed you, chin settled into his pudge. He raised a brow and asked, “Arousing you say?” You couldn’t help but smirk a little, squeezing that belly you worked so hard on. The blonde laughed, “Little harlot, you like feeding your king don’t you?”

You blushed, caught unaware by Aegon’s blunt statement.

“Well?”

You shifted against him a bit, growing hot under his heavy gaze. In a small voice you spoke, “Oh, you’ve outed me Aeg. I love it, so much. You look so good, properly fat like a king should be. Shouldn’t have to do a damn thing but order the realm.”

He smiled again, cheeks bunching up. Aegon kissed you passionately, hand greedily reaching to your breast, kneading expertly. You moaned into his mouth, shifting to lay half atop of his mass. You pressed onto his belly, making the poor thing wince.

“Sorry, sorry,” you said.

He shook his head and kept kissing you, tongue lapping you up. Your hand crept down his pale belly, passing now faded stripes to get at his cock. Aegon moaned lowly into your mouth at the contact of your hand. You murmured, “Can I taste you tonight my lord? Please?”

Aegon sighed, “Oh fuck, yes, gods.”

You yanked back the covers, exposing Aegon’s plumping cock, fighting hard to stay up against his generous lower belly. Aegon’s hand laid at the nape of your neck possessively, giving it a squeeze. He panted, “C’mon dear, yes, so good to me.”

You grabbed onto the base, lapping at his ruddy head, tonguing the slit eagerly. Aegon moaned and shifted, stuck under his still gurgling belly. Easing your lips you swallowed him down until he was at the back of your throat, bobbing while your hand got the rest. The other hand was massaging his balls.

Aegon moaned your name again, pudgy fingers scrabbling at your neck. He incoherently rambled nonsense, lazily attempting to buck his hips but quitting when you slapped a fleshy hip. You needn’t have your husband upset his fragile bones trying to fuck your throat.

Keeping up an easy pace you savored the moment, soaking up every moan whimper or cry. You pulled back up to pay special attention to his sensitive cockhead, Aegon’s belly rolling as he squirmed. He cried, “Close- fucking seven hells- angel!”

You flicked your tongue across the slit harder, Aegon losing composure and tearing at your locks of hair. You moaned in ecstasy, greedily swallowing down his spend until your husband was whining and pulling you off.

Wiping the back of your mouth you hummed, “Splendid.”

Aegon, catching his breath, panted, “Get over here so I can get my own. Now.”

He didn’t have to ask twice.

Aegon leant back in his favorite chair by the window overlooking the Blackwater, fingers digging into a bowl of candied sweets. His frame certainly filled out the chair now, heavy sides lipping over the arm rests. You were vibrating with excitement, holding back a smile.

The king stopped his munching to stare at you. He asked, “What’s got you all giddy?” With an excited squeak you moved to lay between his legs, head padded on his stronger one. Aegon’s thick fingers found their way into your hair, scritching idly. He asked again, temper almost on the edge, “Have a jest my lady? C’mon, out with it now.”

Looking up with a beam you chirped, “I’ve missed my moon blood two times now. Orwyle says I am with child!” Aegon’s face was a flurry of emotions— confusion, realization, happiness, then tears. He rasped, “Truly? You are pregnant?” Tears streamed from his pretty eyes, wide with glee.

“Yes, yes!,” you cried.

Aegon grasped at you, pulling you up and closer, an awkward angle but you liked being near to his soft flesh. He kissed you passionately, rambling breathlessly, “Gods be good, I- I can’t believe it.” You nuzzled his nose, warbling, “It’s a miracle. Oh Aegon, I am overjoyed!”

He pulled back, scarred hands holding your face, “We must plan a grand feast, a tourney, something! You’re eating for two now.”

You teased back tearily, “You’ll be eating for three then, yes?”

He rolled his eyes and kissed you again, laughing softly. Maybe the Targaryen’s could rise above the shambles of the realm. This was a new start, a new seed.

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 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.

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 dearest lioness of Lannnister, still roaring her heart away.”

The initial anger faded to 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 still 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. The 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 Strong’s burning up in a sea of smoke. The rest of the Hightower’s had been haphazardly thrown into a wheelhouse, Queen Alicent purportedly retching and sobbing, crying for her daughter and late husband. They laid in boxes behind the cart. She had the young Daeron only for comfort.

Your mouth twisted up at the retelling of the scene of kinslaying and wretchedness. Your family had no love for the Black’s but for the Green’s 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 and only had the young Baela and Rhaena.

Tyland had written to stay put, the Westerland’s swore to the new King Aegon. War broke out as expected. The dragons saw an end to the strife, the realm back under control of a horrid king. 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 done. 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 Reyne’s 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 and their ashen hair, 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. It shall be good to see my 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? Oh he would be wrong. 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. Then back 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.

But the stench of the city was vile, rotting fish and dung heaps. Nasty little peasants ogling 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! 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. It too smelled of rot. In a miserable warble you said, “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 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. Your father and you could do 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 too.”

“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.

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. Then cried in your fathers 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, 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 of 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 cinching your waist. He could take the maiden with her tits corseted to her chin. Needed a broodmare. A lingering voice tutted, “He may find holes where he pleases, the king needs a queen.”

The door opened, Tyland extending 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 recognized most of the sigils. The King Aegon sat on the 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 awhile. A while to get rightfully furious with this brat of a king! You’d med squires with more dignity than he!

As you neared the imposed 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, he 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. 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, the king Aegon was presented the weakest curtsy.

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 below his collar. Violet eyes swam with something, a ringed finger tapping your 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 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 were in a lace shift, 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 my lioness. 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.”

He whined, arching into your touch, begging for a kiss. One you allowed, letting the needy little thing lap and press fervent kisses 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 chain 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 man, 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 one.

Aegon was babbling apologies now, promising dresses, jewelry, lands, his heart in a box if he could. It was garbled with his slurry 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, wonderful 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 around your button while unlatched 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, good pleasure.

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 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?

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Let's play who's the sidepiece?, Aegon has half of King's Landing and his sister has one (1) man, humor, strong themes of sexism/patriarchy/gender roles, infidelity but casual?, jealous jealous jealous Aeg, who is also a self-absorbed idiot, Aemond just wants peace, pnv!sex, Incest need I say more, manipulation, degradation, rough sex, oral sex (m!receiving), a bit toxic at the end but they do love each other.

Taglist: @arcielee @aemonds-holy-milk @fairysluna @valeskafics @dr-aegon @targaryen-madness @starogeorgina @lovelykhaleesiii @sugarpoppss2 @thought--bubble

Divider by @saradika

Aegon was suspicious. Sure, he fucked whenever and however he wanted. Regardless of outside activities, something was off in his meticulously planned life. Planned by others, of course, he couldn't give a rat's ass. The prince just had been wed to his sister, the less strange one. She was suspiciously…competent in bed. He could swear she was supposed to be a maiden. She was- bled during the bedding ceremony when he first fucked her.

But the way she rode his cock was good. Too good. Aegon knew he shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth. Frankly, it was eating him up. She even gave fantastic head! Who the fuck had taught her that? He narrowed his eyes at her, the fellow blonde looking bored at supper.

Aegon took a swig of his wine, eyes dark as he studied her. Maybe if he looked long enough someone would jump up and act jealous. What if she was secret fuckmates with his nephew? Aegon had a vague memory of a sordid rumor regarding Jacaerys Velaryon's horse cock. He would kill himself, truly. He could imagine the letter, “Sorry mother, I couldn’t take that shame, yes I know I live in constant shame, but this was the final straw.”

His sister-wife was staring now. She raised a brow in question. “Why are you staring at me like that?” Aegon grumbled, “Nothing. Just looking. Can’t have a look, alright then.”

She scoffed, “You can look, but you’re looking as if you’re about to eat my face.”

Oh. Aegon blushed in embarrassment. He drank more wine, mumbling a ‘sorry’. He didn’t want to broach the subject at supper. The prince’s damn family was nosy enough as is, he didn’t need Aemond’s big ass nose in his ear. Or one of those frightful looks from Alicent. If Aegon got lectured by Otto or Criston he would consider stabbing himself.

Aegon mulled over what he should do next between bites of mutton. She obviously wasn’t going to the Street of Silk, because that was his domain. Someone would’ve peeped already. He reluctantly knew when Daemon was visiting. Every. Damn. Time. Why would Aegon want to hear about the fuckhead's potency issues?

Mayhaps he should get her on the cusp of orgasm and demand who her secret lover-teacher-whatever was. That seemed sound enough to Aegon. When he was about to nut? One could ask him anything, there would be an answer. The prince smiled enigmatically, laughing to himself.

To which his sister-wife said, “You’re acting strange tonight.”

Aegon cooed, “Sorry, just dreaming a bit.”

Under the table he put a lecherous hand on her thigh, squeezing over her soft dress. His sister blushed and squirmed, fork awkwardly clanking across the plate. The woman hissed, “Okay I get it!” She cleared her throat, ignoring any stares. Aegon smirked and squeezed a bit higher, plump lips splitting into a grin.

Aegon had immediately crowded her smaller frame in the bedroom, plush lips attacking her neck, impatient hands pulling at her dress. She moaned, walking backward into the bed, yelping when Aegon crawled atop. He murmured, “You looked ravishing tonight, I couldn’t help myself.”

“Uh, huh, the clasps you fool,” she groaned.

Aegon huffed, probably tearing the fabric as he separated the back of the dress. She began to shuck the dress off while he awkwardly pulled off his breeches. They giggled a bit making eye contact; Aegon unbuttoning his tunic and her unlacing the corset. Soon they were both naked, grinning and kissing, her soft skin rubbing against his.

Aegon grabbed her thighs, mouthing at a tit and playfully nipping at it. She squeaked, thighs tightening around his waist, throwing long blonde hair back. His wife cried out, “Aegon! Quit playing!” He pulled off her nipple, murmuring between little kisses, “Why, is the princess needy?”

He slipped a ringed finger between her folds, finding her wetter than expected. Aegon dipped into her cunt, laughing, “Ah she is, little whore.” The princess writhed a bit, leaning up to capture his lips, lapping into his mouth hungrily. The prince returned her eager movements, curling his fingers into her pussy, letting her ride his hand.

“Fuck, you’re a doll,” he swore, “Perfect.”

She whined and arched up into him, hips canting on his hand. Aegon used his other hand to play with her sensitive tits, thumb circling around a budded nipple. She shivered and cried his name again, a pretty blush diffusing across her pallid skin. The prince hummed “Are you going to come for me sweetling? So soon?”

“Ngh, please, yes Aegon!”

He sped up his movements, feeling her tighten and twitch, the princess on the precipice. Aegon moaned before gathering himself, his pulsing cock was scrambling relative coherency. As it did. He panted, “Gonna count down and I want you to let go okay? Then I’ll fuck your pretty cunt.”

She nodded with lidded eyes, mouth hung open. The picture of ecstasy. Aegon smirked as he spoke.

…10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1…

“Oh gods Aegon!”

“Who are you fucking!”

She writhed through the helpless orgasm, confusion evident on her twisting features. Aegon couldn’t help but throb AND be quite annoyed. He slurped the juices off his fingers, leaning back with a look. The prince was feeling sullen and not sure if he wanted to play anymore. His wife stared up at him and echoed “Who…am I fucking. What?”

Aegon pouted. This didn’t go to plan. He rolled his eyes and explained, “You excel, frighteningly so, at our bedroom activities. Yes, yes I know you were still a maiden at our wedding. But I am onto you, I don't know much but I do know about fucking, dearest."

“Are you kidding me? This is ludicrous Aegon!”

She had sat up now, crossing her arms, lips pouty. The prince stated as if it was obvious, “You know your way around a cock. Obviously, this comes with experience. I’ve bedded many a maiden and they usually just stare until you flip them over. So who’s the secret mentor?”

She scoffed in horror, cheeks reddening further, “I can’t believe this Aegon! You’re an idiot! I’m not fucking anyone else! Unlike you!”

“Lies you tell, no spring maiden has gargled my balls!” he accused, face growing equally red in frustration, ringed finger pointing at her.

His sister grew quiet, looking away. She mumbled “Fine. Do you want to know who it is so bad? This stays between us.”

Aegon nodded, impatiently gesturing for her to come out with it. She seemed to grow more uncomfortable. Then spit out a name so low and fast he couldn’t hear. Tonight might be the night he explodes. The prince groaned, “Oh my gods, just say it in a normal tone!”

“Larys Strong!”

What?

He burst into laughter. The prince guffawed, clutching his stomach, shaking with humor. She gaped “What? I’m not lying!” Aegon laughed some more thinking about the foot monger, he’s a bigger virgin than anyone in the keep. He breathlessly chuckled, “Good one, yeah right dear.”

She began to pull on her chemise, annoyed now. Aegon grasped at her thigh, pleading between fits of giggles, “I don’t know why you’re hiding this? I don’t care who you go and find pleasure with. Unless it’s truly Larys. C’monnnn love don’t leave.”

“This isn’t a laughing matter. You’re making up things. What if I’m just good at carnal activities hm Aegon? You're an ass!”

Aegon contemplated the possibility, “Sure, that could be true. Now stop being huffy and come here. I said I’d fuck your pretty pussy.”

She stared down at him before taking her chemise back off. The princess hissed, “You’re a right asshole you know that? You better fuck me good. Prick.”

Aegon laughed again, cheeks hurting from his fit of humor. He maneuvered her onto all fours, sliding his cock against her still-wet folds. He pressed kisses to her shoulder, nosing sweet-smelling hair. He placed a hand on her tight stomach, humming, “I’m sorry dear, I’ll make it better Hm?” He slid in, watching her pretty eyes roll up in her head.

Aegon still wanted to know who his sister was fornicating. She probably was still seeing this person. All he knew was that they resided in the Red Keep and certainly not Larys Strong. The prince had to open his mind to the possibilities of women too. There were many a pretty handmaiden who tended to his wife.

He frowned in thought, sipping his wine. Aegon sat next to his stiff bitch of a brother in the library of all places. Secretly, Aegon hoped the knowledge in the room would give him some magical foresight gift- but not that weird shit Helaena did sometimes.

His wife fucking a handmaiden- that felt too overt. He’d only seen his sister gag and moon over visiting knights and lordlings. Next to Aegon sat his irritated brother. Aemond was quiet, too quiet. He and their sister got along quite well? Aegon's eyes turned to his not-so-little brother.

“Aem.”

“Why are you speaking to me? I’m trying to read.”

“I have a question. That's why, you frozen-faced ass.”

Aemond picked his head up and glared, slamming his book closed. He huffed “What, oh, what, could your drunkenness possibly ask from me? No, I’m not covering your ass again.”

Aegon snorted. His brother was such a frigid quim. He acted like Criston Cole, peacocking around the place, chip on their shoulder. The elder asked “Look. I’ll just be blunt with you. Our sister, my wife. She is merely too good in the sack. Are you fucking her? Is she fucking you?”

Aemond’s jaw audibly clicked in annoyance. He struggled over his tongue, face red. The second son stood up, slamming his hands on the stone. He retreated with a swish of hair and growled, “Buffoon.”

Aegon called after him, “Your behavior has not marked you off my list!”

"Fuck you and your list! Drunkard!!"

Icy little prick. Aegon rolled his eyes, pondering on his next target. Perhaps Jason Lannister? He was wooing any Targaryen princess for his sons. Or possibly Ser Arryk, her sworn shield. Aegon would go to them next. Then maybe do a night check on Aemond’s quarters. His wife was busy with their mother all day anyway. How boring.

Safe to say the prince was still vexed. Jason Lannister laughed in his face and Ser Arryk was extremely confused. He replied in that dumb voice of his, “The princess and I? I’m not that simple your grace. Some of us Kingsguard do take our vows seriously, although I can’t say the same for others.”

He refused to elaborate afterward, Aegon throwing his hands up and moving to the next destination. While walking, he pondered Arryk’s words. Could it be another Kingsguard? Maybe Erryk? Criston had already used up his one allotted Princess fucking and it turned him sour. Erryk would stay on Aegon’s list, the other men too plain ugly or on Dragonstone.

Too annoyed to try any decorum, Aegon simply kicked Aemond’s door open. The younger prince squawked in shock, his hair flying around. Why was there a portrait of Daemon? Why was there another half-finished portrait of Aemond obviously in the same style? Aegon spluttered, “What the fuck? You’re so weird! Daemon? Blech brother!”

Aemond, hair tied back and wearing simple clothes smudged with paint— was positively furious. He hollered, “Get the hell out! I’m not fornicating with our sister! She’s your wife! Say a word of this and I’m making you a Eunuch!”

Aegon was booted out, literally, as in Aemond’s big fucking boot kicked him in the arse.

“Should’ve known. Weirdo,” Aegon grumbled.

He limped back to his quarters, dreadfully needing a sip of wine and someone’s lips around his cock. Today was dreadful. He actually tried to do something. Which trying was rare for him! The prince went to open his door, only to step back when Ser Criston exited.

He raised a brow. Criston looked at him blankly, dark eyes placid. Aegon asked, “What were you doing?” The Kingsguard scoffed, “Your sister was having a fit about a spider, I heard her yowling and killed said spider. Goodnight my prince.”

Aegon glared at the surly marcher, shaking his head and entering the chambers. He immediately went to the table and drank straight from the bottle, deep, deep pulls of relief. The blonde placed it down and sighed, turning towards his bed.

His wife sat there, eyes wide, wearing only her askew shift. Aegon bitched, “Oh. Nice to see you too. Maybe a ‘Hello lord husband, how are you?’ would suffice.”

The Princess’ cheeks were pink. He guessed from the embarrassment of having Ser Criston kill a small bug. Then explained again why Ser Criston had to kill a small bug. She mumbled, “Oh, sorry, I thought you were at the brothels.”

Aegon plopped down in a chair, grabbing the bottle. He whined, “Nope! Been trying to find out who your mystery lover is all day. No one wants to pipe up! I should’ve gone.”

She gazed downwards, biting on swollen lips. The princess stood up on shaky legs, making her way to Aegon and kneeling between his lax thighs. She hummed, tracing a finger up one, feeling the muscle twitch. His sister mused, “Can I take your mind off this mystery lover? You’re much more desirable to me. Don't they say the blood of the dragon reaches out to another?”

“Sure, definitely” he whined again. Aegon would pout this out, it was his specialty. He honestly was hurt, why couldn’t he know their identity? Sure he’d get jealous and probably ban her from seeing them but still! He was sad!

“Am I that unappealing to you?” he whimpered, tears pricking at violet eyes, frustration and self-pity leaking over.

She sighed heavily, wrapping her arms around his midsection. The princess laid her head upon his thigh and cooed, “No. You’re my husband, my blood, we are a union now. That partnership…started because I was afraid you would find me boring. So I wanted to know how to please a man.”

Aegon sulked and sniffled some more, taking another deep drink from his goblet. The familiar fuzz was coming along nicely, patching up his insecurities. But it was nice to hear her admit a smidgeon of truth. She kissed his leg and continued, “Aegon dear, have I not pleased you? It was a transaction between the person and me. They wished to make their identity a secret so as not to catch your wroth. I no longer see them like that. I hate that you’re upset, I did this for you.”

Aegon nodded, feeling a bit better. His sister was good. She easily melted his pouting protocol. The female Targaryen rubbed his thighs and moved her mouth to hover over his clothed cock, eyes looking up as she breathed, “Now baby, just relax and let me make this better, hm?”

He moaned softly as she mouthed over his swelling member, nimble fingers untying his breeches, other hand massaging the soft flesh and meat of his thigh. She eased Aegon’s cock and his sac out, groaning with a flutter of her long lashes. The prince squirmed a bit, breathing heavier, holding off a whine.

“Just you and me, sweet baby.”

She was increasingly convincing kitten licking the ruddy head of his prick like that. The girl’s dainty hand wrapped around his length, the other going to hold his balls, keeping them nice and compressed. Aegon’s back arched when she eased him into a silky wet mouth, tongue massaging the underside as his wife hollowed her mouth.

“Mmm,” she hummed.

Aegon responded with a noise he’d rather not dwell on. It was very…emasculating. Gods, she was so good at this. He needed to get over his qualms and just fuck her so good the princess wouldn't stray again. Good and obedient- all for Aegon. He eased her off gently, demanding, "Lay across the bed. Now."

Wide purple eyes stared at him. She murmured, "What? I- I don't need that, let me take care of you."

Aegon shook his head, grinning, the drink emboldening him. Something about Arbor Red made him impossibly aroused and giddy. He jerked his chin toward the plush bed and laughed. His sister got up, eyes wide and cheeks flushed. She padded and leaned her body over the bed, long legs spread, chemise discarded to display her swollen cunt to him.

Aegon pulled off his breeches as he stalked over, eyes drinking in her pussy. He smacked a hand across her ass and grabbed the stinging flesh. He asked roughly "Did your mystery lover sneak out the servant's exit when Ser Criston heard your yowling?"

"Yes, yes! Sorry, fucking yes!" she shouted.

Aegon's face darkened at her puffy and slick cunt, obvious signs of someone having a feast down there. He ran the blunt tip of his swollen cock across her folds, groaning as he smacked her clit. The prince snapped "You're a goddamn lying slut you know that? A match made in heaven with me huh? Did Ser Criston walk in when you were getting your cunt licked?" He wound a fist in her blonde tresses, pulling it tight.

She shivered and shook her head, whining, "N-ohh, he didn't see!"

"Hm, sure, probably took a peak, the weird bitch. Whatever, I guess I'll have to fuck this person out of your mind? Or you're coming with me to the brothels sister dearest."

He slid into her tight hole, gasping at the ridges and warmth. Aegon tightened the fist in her hair. Maybe he'd fuck a babe in her tonight, then she'd be stuck in his quarters surrounded by maesters and tittering handmaidens. Eugh. Aegon huffed and fucked her at a brisk pace, his other hand smacking her ass every other thrust.

His sister-wife moaned, taking his cock like she was made for it. She fucked back onto him, back arched, tits bouncing. Her cheeks were delightfully flushed as she panted Aegon's name, eyes wet and wide. Aegon leaned over her form and growled, "Don't know who this fucker is but I will find out. He better know whose cunt this is, eh? Shout it, tell the whole goddamn keep who you belong to, sister."

Aegon relished in her little whimper, his fingers pinching her clit as he forced her hips up to drive into her good spot harder. He bit and lapped at her neck, hissing, "C'mon and say it or I'll lock your ass up here with no visitors. Just me and I'll get my fill, fucking snake." She blubbered, seizing around his cock a hair.

"Oh gods, please don't make me howl like that, Aegon, please!"

He fucked the princess rougher, holding her gaze with a tight grip around her chin. She bit her lip, eyes mournful before shouting, "Only you Aegon, I belong to you, yes big brother! Yes! I belong to my husband!"

Aegon grinned like the cat that got the cream. He cooed, "Good little sister, knew you still had it in you." He gripped her throat and refocused on fucking her until she cried. Aegon pinched and licked, played with her tits, circled her clit until she came all over him- yet the prince was still fit to go. Sweet sister was a mess now- covered in bites and hickeys, sweaty hair plastered to her neck. The younger blonde whimpered, "Aeg- Aegon, I- I can't possibly do this again!"

Her eyes were frantic, her cute body shaking and coming apart wondrously. Aegon hummed, "You will come for me again sweetling. I know you can, just whining on my prick like you were paid for it? Does he fuck you like this huh? Make you see stars?"

"N-noooo, only you!"

"Good girl, come on now, wanna feel that sweet pussy of yours cream around me one more time. Then I'll fill you up deep- maybe he won't come around when you are all ripe with," he punctuated his next words with thrusts, "My. Goddamn. Child."

The princess wailed softly, overused and overstimulated. She felt the crest of another burning orgasm flaring up and forcing red hot tears down her blotchy cheeks. It was intense and she cried harder when Aegon's thick seed stuffed her twitching cunt and womb to the brim. He seemed to be satisfied now, cooing at her, "There we go, ffuck, that's my sweet girl. See, don't need anyone else around now hm?"

Aegon wiped her gorgeous tears, smiling victoriously. She cuddled into his arms, letting her husband soothe and stroke her trembling flesh. He even hollered for a servant to grab some water. The prince murmured, "You did so good, such a good wife, yes, maybe just a bit of punishment does sweet sister well." He grew quieter and pressed a kiss to her soft forehead, "I love you, truly, for tolerating a failure like me."

She smiled softly and pecked Aegon's full lips, her own swollen from tonight. Aegon wiped her tears as she sighed, "I love you too Aegon. Buffoon you may be. I hope the seed takes. No more about mystery lovers. The whole keep has heard now sweetheart."

Aegon smirked, hoping every single soul heard.

One soul in particular did, his black gloves tightening in annoyance. He was down the hall before turning back and having to hear the heir...rudely fuck his sister-wife. With a growl and swish of the cloak, the true mystery lover was gone. She'd be back in his arms sooner or later. Aegon couldn't fuck him out of her soft heart.

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Taken from this fic, pwp, secret romance, oral (both receiving), Criston’s delulu mindset, jealousy, Princess just loves knight Dick she can’t help it, he’s a slutty baby per usual

Taglist: @aemonds-holy-milk @arcielee @elaratyrell @fairysluna @jamespotterismydaddy @lovelykhaleesiii @peachysunrize @starogeorgina @towriteloveontheirarms @zaldritzosrose

Criston was complaining quite ardently again. “Just shut up, shut up,” she hissed, eyes casting back toward the shut door. The princess readjusted herself on a steel-plated chest. Her Valyrian eyes cast down at the Kingsguard. His eyes were wet and wide— perfectly pathetic.

The pair made a scene on the stone floor, shamelessly open in her shared chamber with Prince Aegon. The siblings were lawfully wedded but she just couldn’t quit her sweet Criston. He would never quit either, one would have to kill the man before he let go of his favorite princess. His hands bunched the thin material of the younger’s shift.

“I don’t like how he’s been sniffing around. Why does it matter who you bed? Aegon fucks about the entirety of the Street of Silk.”

She rolled her eyes and pet at Criston’s curls, “All you men are the same, jealous and egotistical, ruled by your cocks. You’re pissed that he’s pissed. Make it make sense. Are you going to eat my cunt or not?”

Criston’s eyes narrowed, his gaze flicking to the side a couple of times as he petulantly looked for an answer. His calloused hands dug into her hips as he mumbled, “Yes- get up here.” The knight absently wondered if he was being too needy, cheeks darkening in response.

Her pretty lips curled up as she readjusted her place, seating herself on gorgeous godsdamn lips. No, she thought, she couldn’t do without him. The young woman did love Criston Cole fiercely. She gathered her shift and took it off, exposing her tits and bare skin.

She could feel Criston groan, the shifting of his armor as he fucked up into nothing. Ser Cole gripped her ass and thighs as he began to lap and work himself between her legs. His tongue twisted and jabbed, Criston moaning in delight.

The princess grabbed his hair and gasped as she canted her hips. His perfect nose bumped against her clit as she rode Criston’s face. She whined at the sinful stimulation, both hands anchored in dark hair. The knight had his feet planted, eager to please.

Criston’s hands slid up her waist, thumbs caressing the bottom of her breasts, where the skin was silky soft. The blonde breathed as she rocked, “Criston, my s-sweet, so good.” Ever the slut for praise, the marcher helplessly whined into her cunt, suckling harder at her slick. His palms enveloped the Targaryen’s breasts.

She threw her head back as Criston groped and massaged the flesh— even playfully bouncing them. The princess smacked his flank and kept riding, dragging her aching bundle across his handsome face. He tweaked at a peaked nipple. Everything was perfect, even Criston’s stubble rubbing her sensitive skin raw.

The princess keened and tossed her head back.

Criston’s chest hitched, his armor clacking as he earnestly let his goddess do as she pleased. His cock was fit to burst under the layers. He wanted her mouth regardless of the time limit with Aegon’s recent tomfoolery. He slurped at her sweet cunt, fingers tugging at engorged nipples.

She clenched around Criston’s face, mouth hanging open, platinum locks shaking. The little princess trembled and rocked her hips in jolts of excitement. Aegon’s wife was growing overstimulated and hot. She was unable to stop whining and biting down on her lip to keep from howling in pleasure.

The marcher’s hand came down on her ass in quick succession, urging her to move faster. All she could do was cry “Please! Close! Beloved please!” Criston grinned and began to move her along himself, he had the strength for it. The heightening whimpers were music to his ears as she trembled and babbled.

One, two, three more rocks, and the princess yelled. She folded forward, hands deathly tight on Criston’s scalp. Criston lapped up her gush of juices, slurping and groaning like a damn animal at her lovely fucking pussy. He took his time licking her all up until she wheezed and pushed off.

Criston laid on his back, grinning at her mussed hair and red face, those gorgeous watery doe eyes. She murmured, “You’re…something else. Whole keep probably heard me.” The marcher scoffed even as she pressed a peck to his lips, lithe fingers crawling under his padded tunic.

Criston bit out between kisses, “Let…him..mmh…hear.”

He watched as she pulled away, just enough to tease, “Not the best idea love. Be quiet so I can suck your cock and send you off. You’re territorial and irritable with your balls full.” Criston rolled his eyes, head thudding on the expensive rug. She moved around to kneel between his legs.

The gambeson was half unbuttoned, exposing the tent in his pants. She playfully fisted at Criston’s prick, snickering at his hapless moan. He breathed in as her fingers plucked the strings open and pulled his throbbing heat out. He shivered, eyes blinking up at her. A fucking angel, goddess, something of old and ethereal.

The princess lapped at the pearly bead adorning the tip of his cock, her other hand snug around his sack. Criston gasped her name, groaning when plush lips enveloped the sensitive tip. She knew him well— had the extra skin pulled back so her devious tongue could flick at that tender spot on the underside.

“Ahhh- angel- angel,” the marcher uselessly praised.

Her spit rolled down the shaft as the princess lathered her attention on the tip, swirling her tongue around the bulbous head. Criston was whimpering softly, lips opening and closing repeatedly. He grew overwhelmed with personal attention like this— nearly always transforming into a wet mess.

He squirmed a bit, back arching into her mouth as she took him deeper, swallowing repeatedly. Criston slammed a hand over his mouth when she thumbed the seam of his sack and hummed around his thick cock. He had to keep from whining like a bitch in a moment like this. The knight preferred only his princess to see this side of him.

The thought of Aegon interfering could make his cock wilt. She was Criston’s, not the brat.

“Sweetheart, ahh- oh fuck- can I touch your hair?” He begged.

“Mhmmm,” was the reply, leaving the poor man whimpering again, the vibrations hitting everything. His lower belly twitched and tightened as he gently wound her blonde tresses in a hand. Criston looked down when she bobbed her head, growing ashamed yet hotter by the second.

He was arched and spread for her— reminiscent of some slut in a silver stag brothel. Criston covered his mouth again to hide the wanton moan, too loud for the room, too loud for much of anywhere.

Her bobbing quickened on top, one hand rolling his balls, the other jerking him off in sync with her mouth. He gasped and twitched again, feeling heat spread around his body. Criston’s balls throbbed as they tightened further and further.

He whined her name, neck straining as the orgasm climbed his body. The knight blinked down tears as he babbled, pulling ever-so-soft on the Princess’ hair. She hummed some more, flicking her tongue deep into his slit.

Criston was gone— his vision darkened as he arched painfully, gutturally groaning and whimpering as he spilled down his lover’s throat. She drank him down, eyes filled with adoration. It took a couple more spurts before he was wrung out and limp, panting.

The princess tucked him back in, buttoning and lacing quickly. She sat Criston up, pretty amethyst orbs gazing into his dark ones. He rasped while petting her flushed cheek, “I love you.” The princess, his damn woman, stole a deep kiss as she fixed his hair.

“There you go, I love you, come on now. The buffoon will be here sooner or later. Aemond told me about Aegon nosing.”

The pair helped themselves up, Criston deeply frowning. How he wanted to toss the Prince into a sewage line. He’d fish him out…but the thought was soothing. Another press of soft lips had Criston come to the present.

She looked up at him, promising, “I will see you around, go on love, I’ll be thinking of my knight.”

Criston would never admit but he was like a scolded puppy leaving the room, getting shooed until he exited, the door closing behind his white cloak. Only to make eye contact with the shithead himself.

Could you do a fic with viserys being like obsessed with his second wife after aemma and they have like dozens of kids pls?

AN: Hi, i hope you like it x

“Is the heir to the throne bothering you, Tyland?” Viserys whispered from his seat at the top of the table. The sight at the other end had amusement on many faces in the room as the little four year old climbed in the chair; already reaching for his favourite toy, which unfortunately for Tyland was the ball he was a little too attached with. “No..no, of course not, your grace.” The worried Lord whispered out as the young babe only reached for the ball again and this time was able to keep a hold of it. Viserys could only smile with complete warmth as his cup was filled. Rhaenyra smiled down at her father as she fought against the giggle that threatened to escape her at her brother’s antics.

Viserys’ gaze softened as he observed his children, the future of the realm, and he felt a rare moment of peace amidst the chaos of rulership. “Perhaps,” Viserys mused, his voice carrying the hint of a chuckle, “young Aegon is preparing for his future duties.” Aegon only clapped his hands at the words coming from his father. Tyland managed a nervous smile as he rested back into the chair; allowing the young Prince to keep his prize.

“My queen –.” The voice of a king’s guard moved into the room as the large, wooden doors fell open. Viserys’ smile widened completely as he slowly sat up straighter. The mere sight of his wife had happiness radiating from him. The red of his house hugged her curves as she gracefully stepped into the room. The Queen’s eyes scanned the room, pausing briefly on each familiar face, before settling on her husband. A soft, knowing smile played on her lips as she made her way towards the head of the table. The room seemed to light up with her arrival, in Viserys’ eyes that was as the murmurs of the Lords present quieted in respect.

“My love,” Viserys greeted her with a warmth that many had suspected would never reach his eyes again after the loss of his first wife. Still, it was clear to see as he rose to his feet. “You grace us with your presence.” She inclined her head slightly, her smile never wavering. “I could not resist joining my family this morning.” Aegon, momentarily distracted from his prized ball, looked up at his mother with a gleeful exclamation. “Mother!” Rhaenyra moved to greet her stepmother as well; her previous amusement giving way to genuine affection. It warmed Viserys’ heart once more to see such an interaction; he had worried about his daughter’s reaction to a new wife for her father.

Alas, there was no worry to be needed as his daughter enjoyed the presence of his Queen nearly as much as he did. She gently cupped Rhaenyra’s cheek and lent in to press a soft kiss to her cheek in greeting. “It seems I’ve missed some excitement already,” she remarked, subtly looking towards Tyland, who still looked somewhat flustered. Viserys chuckled. “Just a small lesson in patience for Lord Tyland.” The King looked back towards the struggling prince as he fought to stand. The queen could only giggle; her hand moving towards the small bump of hers that seemed to be growing each day before she gracefully stepped towards her young son. His hands reached out eagerly towards her.

She gently brushed Aegon’s cheek. “Good morning, my little sun,” she said softly, eyes full of warmth and love. Aegon giggled, clutching his ball tightly with one hand whilst the other found its way into his mother’s grasp. Viserys watched the tender exchange with his heart full. His eyes moving towards his wife’s bump to his children. Rhaenyra stood nearby; her smile warm as she observed the scene. Moments like these were her favourite as titles and responsibilities melted away. The Queen rose, lifting Aegon into her arms with practised ease. “I shall take this little one to his lessons now. I do believe you have had too much fun so early.”

Aegon pouted slightly but clung to his mother, understanding his playtime was over for the moment. “But mother…” He began, his protests trailing off as he saw the gentle but firm look in her eyes. Viserys chuckled softly. “Listen to your mother, Aegon. She knows what is best.” The King had made his way back to the seat whilst his eyes had never left her. The Queen ducked her head; a soft pink coming over her cheeks as she shifted Aegon more comfortably on her hip. Rhaenyra stepped forward, brushing a stray lock of hair from Aegon’s forehead. “I’ll come visit you soon.” The Princess promised much to the little boy’s delight. 

“You would like to see your brother and sister, hmm?” She whispered; pressing a kiss to Aegon’s head before looking over her shoulder once more as the doors to the council room fell shut. His small arms wrapped around her neck as he nodded with enthusiasm, his early reluctance now completely forgotten about.

~

“I love you,” Viserys whispered into her hair; their naked bodies glowing in the aftermath of love as the covers slowly fell from their bodies. She only nestled closer to him as a soft smile played on her lips. “I love you, my King,” she murmured back, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on his chest. The intimacy of the moment wrapped around them. Viserys gently tilted her chin up, his eyes meeting hers with complete tenderness. “You give me the courage to face each day. Your love…your strength.” His words had her reaching to stroke his cheek as she gently shushed him. “You are stronger than you know.” The Queen whispered as she leaned in; brushing their noses together.

His hand gently reached for her soft bump; gently stroking whilst the Queen could only look down and smile. “I think we may have all the children we need, hmm?” She teased, which only caused the King to chuckle and shake his head. “No..not nearly enough.” He replied, his voice filled with affection. “Each one is a blessing.” 

His hand slowly moved between her thighs now, cupping her sweet, wet pussy. “And you seem to enjoy the process, hmm?” A smirk tugged on his lips as his thumb began to brush over her pretty, sensitive clit. The night was far from over as his desire only built.

NSFW Visuals ➢ House of the Dragon

synopsis :: various smutty scenarios & nsfw twitter links

includes: Aegon ii Targaryen, Aemond Targaryen, Jacaerys Velaryon, & Helaena Targaryen

warning(s): NO MINORS!!, smut, straight up porn, sinful really

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