House Of The Dragon Smut - Tumblr Posts

❝Daemon doesn't know what to do with you.❞

[ Never piss off your wife. She might acquire a living, breathing punishment for you. Aka, Daemon made a mistake and you're his punishment ft. Rhaenyra stay winning. ]

[ +18 MDNI ] [ 1,985 ] | Daemyra x Sugar Baby!Reader

contains— sugar mommy x sugar baby, open relationship/understandings, toxic relationship??? allusions of cheating, established realtionship - nsfw: oral, p & v sex, v & v sex, pet names mainly: darling, sweet girl, good girl, praise, male masturbation shshhs - you piss the shit outta daemon (as you should), slight angst? - sort of daemon-focused since it's in his pov, but rhae's the only one allowed to touch you lol - no targcest bc its the modern world and that would be weird.

a/n— i dont want to talk about it, okay. comment/reblog/like at will ❤️️

Daemon doesn't know what to do with you.

With your soft noises encouraged to heighten in pleasure whenever Rhaenyra had you over- and after initial test drive of the first few times, stretched in months to weeks to days - she had you over all the time, at random times of the day. Any time the boys or his girls weren't by (being taken care of in the park, Harwin or Laena's visitation rights, Rhaenys wanting to take them off for Corlys weekend fishing trips)- your mewls turned unbridled shouts of pleasure now filled the high-rise.

You permeate the space like a cigarette stain; you didn't even need to be godsdamned present anymore. It starts with your perfume- it's lighter than Rhaenyra's but heavier in sweetness. Vanille. A touch of it that he's foul to recognise. Lipstick stains on his wife's neck, her blouse, where he can imagine your lips drag and bite and suckle because the kids are too young to understand and it's not like he's not one to leave his own marks, but there's a thunderous boil that drums in his veins when he realises you're leaving your own on his wife.

You fill the nooks and crannies like a plague, and you don't even care about him.

Worse, you taunt him.

And it's not like he could say anything to Nyra.

After all, the two of them had an understanding after he got caught with a minor dalliance of his own. It was a one time thing, and he only got blown, but it was enough for a talking to. A mutual agreement that was really just him pacifying his wife.

He really should have focused on the crooks of how upset she had been, on the gleam in her eyes when he thought she had simmered down. That her fire, though not as brightly lit, was still very much burning.

"You can have any sweet thing that you want, husband, as long as you keep them away from the kids. As long as you keep it quiet and away from me. I do not want the details." Nyra's mouth had curled. He remembered. She took up the space behind him, wine-kissed as she was, her fingers dancing on his shoulders and kneading at the tough centre of the nape of his neck. His eyelids fluttered and he barely heard her next words.

"In return, you will not make a fuss when I take mine, hm?"

Daemon had laughed. He remembered that. A soft, more air than sound laugh.

He took her hand to his lips and smirked up at her. Shark-like. Baiting. Daring. "As you wish, wife. In return, you can tell me all about it."

There was a strong part of Daemon that didn't think she'd actually do it.

Rhaenyra had smiled that smile that reminded him of godswoods and Valyrian necklaces, passed down from generation after generation. A silent vow louder drew from blood.

There was a strong part of Daemon who thought his wife was jesting, making a bluff, a toss of a coin.

Until you arrived with a sweet smile and a tinkling little laugh.

Until he had found his wife with her face buried between your legs, your hands— freshly done nails and glimmering rings, new, he later found out from the bank transcripts — and your back arched, your mouth gaping in a silent scream as you come undone.

It took a minute for you to see him, so stuck in that pleasure that broke and free-fell through you several times because 'Nyra didn't want to let up, calling you her sweet girl, her darling girl, that's it, you can take more, can you? aren't you my good girl?

When your thick lashed-eyes finally met his darkened lilac gaze, lipstick still perfect red, still perfectly plump and moist, your mouth curls into a charming little smile and said, "Oh, hello there."

Rhaenyra looked up, and at the smirk on her face, your spend all around her ruined lipstick and chin— Daemon knew she wanted him to see. Wanted him to know. It's a bullet shot down his spine, straight to his cock. It's a cold thrill and grasped fingers around his throat with rings nestled to make indents.

It's a violent blend of jealousy and lust, and the cocktail emotion rages in him, swirls and punctures.

There is a bite between Rhaenyra and Daemon, a fiery edge that often saunters the edges, crosses a new line. But each time, after each rough push, they come back to one another; a tether of becoming, of pulling taunt. Once again united. They are assured in each other's positions; you can play with anyone but you always come back to me.

Rhaenyra has won this one. She had snapped, pulled, and arose victorious.

But they always come together. And often, enjoyed sharing.

What Daemon forgets sometimes is that he is a younger brother, and really, Rhaenyra was the eldest and the sole eye of her father. When righteous selfishness burns with a petty need to make her husband suffer, it heels hard.

"She is mine, husband," she whispers at the edge of his lips, riding him through a slick, sex-haze after you had left. Her thighs slap against his own, his hands harsh on the indents of her waist as she rode him with no abandon, uncaring for his pleasure this time, selfishness the game this time, but the renewed roughness brought him to the early days of their marriage. That unbridled want, a clash of teeth and skin and raw, burning lust.

There is a growl and a hiss, a moan and a gasp; blood has beaded through bitten flesh and bruises are blooming. This is fucking from the high of a third party dancing on their marriage.

And Rhaenyra's refusal of you to him made him throb.

She had seen him high-strung, plotted him to be harder than a box of rocks, already harshly yanking his tie in anticipation of having his wife and you with your fox gazes and sire song, but Rhaenyra had turned away from him, ignored him, and slapped your thigh before kissing your cheek.

"Come back next time, darling, my husband is home." It was said in a tease, a lighthearted joke between two people he was not a part of, but he knew his wife; recognised the bite. The smugness.

And by god, you were in on it as you thrilled a laugh and slid your gaze to his, undressing and fucking him with your eyes as you bit your lip. Your words are to Rhae, a hand on her cheek and a thumb rubbing at the corner of her lip, but your gaze is devouring him. He wasn't a green boy, but you seemed amused and feral for the hard-line of his manhood. As if you can picture what he would feel like buried deep inside your guts, and enjoyed it.

"Am I just going to be yours then, hm?" you asked amusedly, finally turning to her.

Nyra turned her gaze then, to him, and smirked. "You, I will not share. A fitting punishment, don't you think? Some jewels are meant for one alone."

And you had laughed, the gall of you, taking your bag (new one too,a matching one with his wife) and walking right past him. Your scent- his wife's fucking scent, the smell of her cunt on you and his dick throbbed - devoured him as you left him with a wink and a quiet, "too bad."

You had not even gone inside the elevator of their penthouse before a growl tore through his chest and he had met Rhaenyra's thundering footsteps with his own, their tongues and teeth clashing for dominance, ripping apart clothes, wanting to bury each other in the other's skin.

Now, she reaches her peak with a yell and a full body shudder, her cunt clenching and squeezing, demanding his release, and he jolts with her with a swear of his own, his cum flooding her in thick, sharp bursts.

Even then, as Rhae smiled sweetly, post-peak glow simpering her fire, sweetening her kisses against the side of his face, his neck, running a tongue over the worst of the bruises and bites— Daemon thought, surely, now that his wife had reached post-coital bliss and forgiven him, punishment had been had? That he was free to have you, to play with you?

But no. You were off limits. Hers and hers alone. A punishment that keeps on giving as the echoes of you exist in his life in patterns he was starting to fucking loath.

The scent in the bath- the echo of the warmth of someone having used it recently, someone who wasn't his wife, in the pillows of his living room, the barest smudge of makeup as if your face had been pushed against them. In the snacks and drinks that he, nor his wife, nor their children, particularly like, fill up the corners of his kitchen. The lipstick stains on his wife, the running mill in the bank statements (the new necklaces, new dresses, new fucking lingerie he hasn't seen), and when he had finally had enough, shoving through his own house to talk to his wife that the least she could do while she was fucking you was be allowed to be there, he hears it then—

Your shouts of pleasure falling into sighs into giggles, and when he slows to his marital bedroom, you are there— breathing heavily, alive, real— naked and slicked, a goddess divine, with Rhaenyra inside you in more ways than one, baring her teeth in a victorious grin before falling into a laugh at his face.

"Am I allowed to have him now, is that it?" you ask, seemingly innocent. One of the new necklaces in his statements on your neck and nothing else. Chest moving in shuddering breath having just orgasmed and yelling it.

"Your choice, sweet girl," Rhae purrs, leaning back over your form to run a finger from the valley of your breasts to your stomach to your clit that turns your shudders to an outright jolt, then a sigh, when she starts fingering you in front of him. The squelch is obscene, and Daemon is hard, and he is not a fucking boy but he is starting to hate you as much as he wants to fuck the lazy smirk on your face, pleasure so obviously building once again. Soft sighs, mewls, escaping full, raw lips.

"I kind of... want him to watch a little. Just- ah! Nyra there, please - sit still and pretty." You smirk, giving him a pouty air kiss. The urge to strangle you sings in his blood. Hold you down and fuck you until you're better pliant, sweeter, fucking cooing for him. Fuck the spoil Rhaenyra has ingrained in you away.

You turn to the silver-haired woman on top of you, now on her haunches, pressing a gentle kiss to your clit. She held his gaze as she pressed her tongue flat against before taking a glorious, heavy-gazed lick.

Daemon swallows.

"Is that- ahhh, okay? Nyra, hmm? Please?" You sigh ever so sweetly, kindly. Though you're ridiculously spoiled, you were a good girl, following so obediently. If his cock didn't feel like it was burning to be inside your mouth, he would have revelled in it.

You squirm, turning back to him to hold his gaze while his wife started to fuck you through her tongue and fingers.

Someone up there was taking a piss on him. He pulls out his cock, a grunt and a curse, because fuck it, fuck you in particular— as the two of you continued on while keeping eye contact with him.

He took one step closer and Rhaenyra hissed.

"Whatever you want, baby." Nyra smirks against your pussy as he tugged at himself, teeth bared. "You're his punishment after all."

Alicent Hightower*Dreams

Pairing: alicent x f!septa!reader

Kinktober Day eighteen: corruption kink with Alicent Hightower – a new septa arrive at court but none of the thoughts on Alicent’s minds are holy

Word count: 1635

Warnings: religious corruption, corruption kink, relgious guilt, making out, flashing, f! receiving oral, multiple orgasm, smut 18+

Masterlist Here

Kinktober List Here

Alicent was a pure and pious woman. Anyone would agree the queen loved her gods but they didn’t notice the way her eyes chased after the new septa they’d sent to the court. Alicent however had noticed the lingering looks her sons would give her and how you’d squirm out of their grasps.

Often times you would run directly to her side, quoting scripture or asking her opinions on what you had read. She had taken you under her wing, at least that’s what all would think when she would stay up all hours praying with you. what they didn’t see was how she would stare at your covered breaths or dream about what you looked like under your habit.

She knew it was wrong. At first at least. But one night after an exceptionally good dream she’d had of you creeping into her chambers in the middle of the night another thought crossed her mind. Perhaps you were the maiden, sent to the queen to be a comfort. After all, if the men could find their comfort in another’s arms what was the harm of Alicent learning another way to pray.

Despite her attempts to justify her thoughts Alicent made no attempts to lure you in. you were pure and innocent and just and virtuous and fucking beautiful down on your knees. Well, that’s what Alicent had been thinking about, hand between her thighs one night when a knock on the door shocked her.

She quickly tied her robe around her naked frame, making her way to the door. she opened it a crack at first but when she saw your face shinning up at her she quickly ushered you in. “Is everything alright?” she asked, motioning you to join her on her sofa.

“I’m sorry did I wake you your grace?” you asked, nervousness suddenly washing over you.

Your eyes were trained on the sofa, but you looked up to meet hers as her hand took yours in hers, “You need not worry. You are welcome here at any hour. Now tell me why is it you cannot sleep?”

“I was wondering,” you started, your eyes darting away as you searched for the words, “if I may ask you a question? Just its not the type of question that I am proud to have to ask,” you said, your eyes finally meeting hers again.

Her eyes squinted, looking at you with concern as she squeezed your hand, “You may ask me anything you wish,” she assured you, brushing the hair out of your face without a thought.

You felt your cheeks heat up at the contact, your mouth growing dry. “How does one handle improper thoughts?” you eventually managed to spit out, “even when I know they are wrong they will not leave my mind and I wonder. Does it make me as bad as my thoughts?” you said, your tongue rambling as soon as your mouth had opened.

Alison shuffled forward, prompting you to finally hush and look into her eyes, “We cannot control my thoughts though,” she said, trying to hide the intrigue in her voice, “it may help if I were to know what thoughts you were having,”

Her words made your throat close up and your eyes grow wide, “Are they thoughts of another?” she asked and after a moment you finally nodded yes. Alison felt her stomach flip as she continued, “is it the princes?” she heard the words before she could think but the fact you shook your head no made her sigh in relief, “Another man?” another no. Alicent paused a moment, her head tilting, “Are your thoughts of another woman?” she tentatively asked.

You paused for longer this time before nodding, “I can’t control them your grace. They come to me at all hours and this night in my sleep,”

“What kind of thoughts?” she cut you off and you felt your skin tingle.

“Impure thoughts,” you whispered, your innocent eyes darting around despite being alone making Alicent want you even more, “I’ve heard stories of women who enjoy others company. Like how man and wife are supposed to,”

“Did your higher septas tell you about these things?” Alicent asked and you shook your head no again, “another septa perhaps? Or a certain book?”

“No my lady but my thoughts, they cannot be okay surely?” you asked, your hands tightening on hers.

Alicent knew it was wrong to indulge these thoughts, to bring you down with her, but your lips were so close and looked softer than any man, “Why would the gods punish us for things that do not hurt another?” she whispered.

“Is it not wrong my queen? To covet another?”

“Only if they do not wish your thoughts,” she whispered back, “Tell me my sweet, who do you dream of?”

Your eyes flickered to the floor, your skin hotter than a fireplace as Alicent shuffled closer, her fingers lifting your chin gently, “You, your grace. I’m sorry I do not mean to cause offence I shall send myself back to the- “

“That won’t be necessary,” her words cut you off, her hand moving to cup your jaw, “Tell me something sweet septa. Why would the gods make something that feels so good a sin?”

“I don’t know,” you stuttered out, “My queen we shouldn’t,”

“But why?”

“Because it’s wrong,”

“According to who?” she asked, her breath fanning your face, “if you can quote me a scripture I shall stop. But I for one see no reason why we should not make the most of the gifts the gods give us,”

Her words sent shivers down your spine as you looked deep into her eyes, “Tell me to stop,” she said, her lips moving closer till they brushed against yours with each word, “and I will,” before you could respond you felt her lips crash onto yours and your own lips kissed back surprising you both.

Her hands moved to the nape of your neck, pulling you closer making you gasp giving her the ability to slip her tongue in. a rush went through Alicent and before you knew it, she’d pulled you over to straddle her lap, your dress bunching up showing your bare thighs.

You gasped when you felt her pull your head covering off but groaned when you felt her fingers rake through your hair. It was softer than she had thought. When she felt you whine into the kiss another rush ran through her as she pushed you off her and stood.

You sat back on the sofa, beginning to stutter out an apology when Alicent undid the knot of her robe. Your jaw slackened as she pushed the fabric from her shoulders, leaving her bare for your eyes to marvel at.

This time she moved to straddle your lap, her fingers moving to unlace the back of your septa dress. She pushed it down enough to reveal the tops of your collarbones. You whimpered as she kissed down your neck, her teeth grazing your collarbones as her hands groped your breasts over the fabric that covered them.

“Would you like to see what I was dreaming of little one?” she asked between the kisses she placed along your skin. All you could do was nod then watch in amazement as she dropped to her knees, her hands slipping under her dress.

You tried to stutter out a question, but you were soon hushed, “Relax little one. Trust me,” she said, kissing your knee as she pushed your skirt up your legs till you were bare to her. Alicent loved the way your eyes refused to meet hers as your skin grew red.

You felt her warm breath fan over your wet cunt. all the dreams you had had were becoming real but as she pressed a kiss to your clit you realised it felt better than you could have imagined. Far better than your own hand.

You gasped as Alicent began to lick strips up your cunt, devouring every morsel of you as her tongue hit places you did not know existed. You felt your stomach tightening and an unfamiliar feeling begin to spread through your body.

Your hand moved to push her away but Alicent wrapped her arms tightly around your thighs. When your peak hit you, a loud whine left your lips, “oh god,” you cried as you came undone on her tongue but Alicent was not ready to stop.

“You taste so sweet,” she mumbled against your core making you shiver. When you felt her fingers tease your hole your hips bucked, “such an eager student,” she praised, kissing your inner thigh.

When she pushed her fingers in slowly, she relished in the whines you let out and how your hips bucked against her hand. You moaned as she began to curl her fingers, hitting the spots even you struggled to find in the darkness of your room.

However, your body jerked when her lips wrapped around your sensitive bundle of nerves. “Your grace,” you panted, your hands gripping her hair as your head fell back against the chair. “I can’t please,”

“But you can,” she said, sending shivers up your spine as she left an open mouth kiss to your clit. As you felt her teeth graze the sensitive bud you couldn’t stop your legs tightening around her head as you came undone by her tongue a second time so far. Alicent could die happy like this she thought but she had no time for that now.

Not as she pulled herself to her feet and grabbed your hands, “What are you doing?” you asked, complying none the less as you stood in front of her.

“I’m not done with you yet my sweet. It is time for your dreams to become true,”

Taglist: @clairacassidy @valeskafics @starkleila @jacesvelaryons

Ashes of The Dragons

pairing: aemond targaryen x elaenyra velaryon (my oc)

summary: after six years and a dramatic event, prince aemond and princess elaenyra are brought back together.

warnings: SMUT, 18+ content, mature themes and language, uncle/niece incest, p in v sex, oral (female receiving), hand and finger kink, finger sucking, overstimulation, orgasm denial, soft and rough sex, valyrian fluff

word count: 8814

Ashes of The Dragons

"When family splits into Green and Black and blood is split, Blue cries her tears and Black ceases their rage, but Green persists until the last one dies. In the darkness of night, Green will join Blue, becoming Black. Blue will follow Black, and Green will follow Blue."

*

Elaenyra sat at the Painted Table with a book in her lap. The rough material of the leather was smooth beneath her hands, and the words on the paper, though in High Valyrian were clear in the common tongue in her eyes. In the distance on the island of Dragonstone, she could hear the faint roaring of Aenarys. The beastly dragon, though older, was still as temperamental as ever. Looking from the book on her lap to the window, she was hoping that her uncle and now good-father would be coming back soon.

Daemon always was kind to her, even when they had just met and he began teaching her the way of the blade and keeping her still wild dragon under control. He quickly grew to become a father figure for Elaenyra. Like her uncle, Aemond, Elaenyra claimed her dragon after the funeral of her aunt, Laena Velaryon. While holding the book in her lap, she also held the scroll from said uncle. It was the first one since the incident six years ago.

The door to the chamber opened, and in came her mother, Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen.

"The conqueror and his sisters sailed with a great army." Jacaerys translated. Elaenyra had always grown superstitious about his Valyrian education, considering the possibility he would not absorb the knowledge very well. And he wasn't. Maester Gerardys resumed.

"Se Blakuata Rasho dranot vilinio viartis." He spoke. Though he spoke in Valyrian, Elaenyra heard it in the common tongue, much like the case with her book. Jacaerys exhaled.

"And landed at the Blackwater Rush." He said. Rhaenyra walked closer, hand on her pregnant bump and softly rubbing.

"Dranot." Rhaenyra corrected.

"Dranot. Dranot. Dranot. At the end?" He asked. Elaenyra chuckled.

"The mouth." Elaenyra corrected.

"Mouth! Ah, come on, Jace, you knew that." He groaned. Elaenyra looked at her mother and smiled. Rhaenyra placed her hand on her daughter's head and played with her braid, also smiling.

"Dranot. Dranot." Jace repeated. Rhaenyra walked from her daughter's side to the other side of the Painted Table.

"Dranot vilinio viartis." Gerardys repeated.

"Dranot. Dranot. Come on, Jace." He groaned.

"Perhaps that's enough for this morning," Rhaenyra said.

"No, no. I-I want to keep going." Jace said. Rhaenyra looked surprised, but let her son continue anyway. "Maester."

"Guesi misenakson Aegon undas." Gerardys said.

"Aegon... ordered that the trees should be... killed!" Jace cheered. Elaenyra again laughed at her brother.

"Felled. It is a related word." Elaenyra said. Jacaerys groaned.

"I don't expect you to learn High Valyrian in a day, Jace," Rhaenyra said. Jacaerys huffed.

"A king should honour the traditions of his forebears!" He exclaimed. Elaenyra raised a brow at him.

"Unless you plan to depose mother and me, you have plenty of time to study." Elaenyra quipped. Jace fell silent. "Besides, you should have learned at the same time as me, and not just ways to command Vermax." Jace turned to her.

"Why is that?" He asked. Elaenyra closed the book and placed it on the table.

"I have a theory; when you are younger and learning a new language, the brain can absorb it much easier. Mainly derived from the brain's elasticity and rapid neural formation, or the critical period." Elaenyra spoke. Rhaenyra looked from her daughter to her son with a nod. Daemon walked in shortly after.

"Leave us," Rhaenyra said. Elaenyra quickly grabbed the book and scroll and left the room to the library. As soon as she stepped in, the servants had lit a fire in the large hearth. Though the fire was raging, Elaenyra grabbed the thick fur blanket hanging off a cushion and sat down with it draped over her legs, and placed the book back in her lap.

Opening it back up, Elaenyra looked upon the scroll that sat between two pages. Grabbing it, she began re-reading it.

Dearest Princess,

I do not think I have ever connected with any other person the way I have with you. When I picture you in my mind, that is when I feel it. The sudden sense of hope. You give me hope. You make any problem of mine melt into nothingness. No one else can do that for me but you. You are special.

Do you know that I have long loved you? It is most likely known by you, certainly your mother and mine, but I am going to say it again. There are no lies in these words, not one at all. Your smile has kept me alive. It is the one reason to keep me fighting. I would give you my soul for comfort, even if it leaves me dark and cold.

It feels like I have to once again greet you with goodbye.

Yours always,

Aemond

Oh, Aemond. Elaenyra set the parchment down and looked into the flames. Through the flames, she could see recollections of her memories with Aemond. From being infants and attending lessons together, to growing up together as close friends and claiming the largest dragons at the same time at Driftmark. Aenarys was closer to Vhagar than Meraxes, though he was the brother of Queen Rhaenys' dragon.

"You seem quite a contempt to lecture your brother." A voice said. Turning her head to the source of the sound, was Daemon walking into the library and sitting in the chair next to her.

"Care to explain what you mean?" Elaenyra jested with a smile, to which Daemon responded with his own.

"Your intelligence will be remembered, my dear," Daemon said. Elaenyra looked at him, softly smiling and leaning back in her chair, sighing in contentment.

"Maybe the only thing I will be remembered for. Other than my father is 'The Rogue Prince' and has proved himself to be a menace." She said. Daemon agreed.

"And the person who will wield Dark Sister after I die. You will use it to defend those who need it; innocents, family, and those who must prove themselves." Daemon said. Elaenyra chuckled.

"You have faith in me with a blade like that? A blade like that and the dragon I have, perhaps you are right, I will be remembered as what you said." She said. Daemon nodded.

*

Targaryen relics in the Red Keep were gone. In their place was Faith of the Seven propaganda. Seven pointed stars and the erotica on the walls were removed. It was shameful. The room she was given was no different from the one she stayed in when she was a girl: red canopy silks, a plethora of bookcases, and large windows. A raging fireplace, and a clear view of both the sea and the streets of the grand city. Elaenyra stood at the door leading to a balcony, closing her eyes and sighing as the breeze from the sea ran through her hair.

"Are your quarters comfortable?" A voice asked. Turning, she saw Ser Criston Cole. She had heard stories about him, and what he had done at her mother and father's wedding; killing his paramour. And the words and actions he has spat against her mother.

"Yes, Sir Criston. Thank you." She said in a soft tone. He nodded before continuing. Though he may have committed questionable acts, Elaenyra still kept up her kindness to him, in hopes of swaying his opinions. It would later prove futile.

"You have been summoned by Princess Rhaenyra." He said. Elaenyra slowly nodded and he held the door open.

"Thank you, but an escort will not be necessary, Ser Criston." She said and walked past him. He nodded. Walking the corridors, her fingers caressed the old brick walls. Under her fingers, she could feel the ages pass by her like the sea breeze. She continued walking until she saw a man with long ivory hair and a black eyepatch. Looking at him, she recognized the boy who was the dragonless prince, Aemond Targaryen. He walked past her without a word, until she turned back to see him looking at her with a smirk on his face. Her limbs froze under his eye, and memories flooded through her. From the times when they were children talking about the greatness of dragons to silently exchanging kisses in the corridors. And especially to him losing an eye after claiming the great she-dragon, Vhagar. In his one eye, she could see a glint of surprise and disbelief at her presence. She turned her head forward and continued walking towards her mother's chamber.

Approaching the heavy door, she knocked and opened it. Inside stood Rhaenyra in a lavish gown and her good-father sitting next to her. They were talking about Viserys I, and from the conversation, Elaenyra could estimate that his condition has worsened terribly.

"Mother," Elaenyra called. Rhaenyra smiled and approached her daughter, wrapping her in a hug.

"You seem tired," Rhaenyra said. Elaenyra scoffed.

"That's a lot coming from you." She pointed out and rubbed her mother's stomach. Rhaenyra chuckled.

"Well, you came in on dragonback. Long distances like that can be exhausting." Rhaenyra said. Elaenyra scoffed once again, making Rhaenyra smile at her.

"Anything to make Alicent tremble," Elaenyra spoke in Valyrian. Rhaenyra shushed her with a smile.

"You need to rest for the time when the petition arrives, and wash up little one. You reek of dragon." Rhaenyra said. Elaenyra went to speak up, but the sound of knocking interrupted her thoughts. The door opened revealing Aemond.

"Princess." He bowed his head.

"Aemond." Rhaenyra acknowledged. Aemond stepped in.

"If I may, could I steal Elaenyra away for a bit?" He asked. Rhaenyra looked from the ivory-haired man to her daughter and nodded. Elaenyra approached Aemond, letting him raise an arm to keep at her back as they walked out of the room. 

*

The walk was quiet, just the sounds of feet on the stone floors and their breaths. Aemond's arm went from her back to linking with her arm, and the feeling of his cool leather tunic against her skin made her shiver. Aemond stopped the two of them and looked out one of the many windows. Elaenyra stood by his side as they looked out at the sea, seeing Vhagar and her dragon, Aenarys flying together. Very suddenly Elaenyra was overtaken by an image playing in her head. 

"The ages will turn them to stone." She said out of the blue, making Aemond hum in question.

"I saw it so clearly. The next hundred years. The dragons will be dead, and the house of the dragon will be left to only a daughter. The remaining dragon eggs will turn to stone and never hatch. That time will come sooner than I think it will." Elaenyra responded. Aemond looked at her, curiosity in his eye, he reached his free hand to her and delicately held her hand, his fingers playing with hers before they finally conjoined their fingers.

"You've grown." He said. She chuckled.

"As have you," Elaenyra said with a smile. The two continued through the castle. The air was silent, but peaceful to both of them. Even as they approached the Godswood and stood beneath its leaves. Elaenyra stepped forward and stood by the bark of the tree. Aemond stepped back and watched her crouch before it, hand placed on the bark.

"This may be the only place in this blasted castle that will bring me any form of comfort." She said. Aemond watched as her eyes closed and she breathed in the air. Aemond was not afraid to admit to himself that he stared at her, and even more that he felt everything around him pause as he watched the wind blow through her hair.

He only stopped when he realized that her other hand had dug into the earth on her side. And the vein making itself known on her neck and forehead.

"Are you-" Elaenyra stood abruptly and walked towards Aemond.

"For the King's suffering, did the maesters prescribe the removal of Targaryen heraldry and the installation in its stead of various statues and stars?" Elaenyra blurted out. Aemond looked at her with shock, before she heavily exhaled and placed a hand on her forehead.

He approached her and grasped her hands.

"Is that what worries you?" Aemond asked. Reluctantly, she shook her head.

"What worries me is that the home I have grown up in has become a shell of what I remember. I was excited to come back, but everything has changed and home no longer feels like home." Elaenyra said. Aemond rubbed the back of her hand and sighed.

"I agree with you on that matter. I have also felt a little out of place here a brief time ago." He agreed. Elaenyra looked up at him with a raised brow and a smile.

"Brief?" She questioned. Aemond chuckled and leaned his head forward, placing his forehead on hers.

"Before I was told you and your family were coming back. Until then, the only thing that brought me comfort was being on Vhagar's back." Aemond admitted. Elaenyra chuckled.

"I remember your first ride on her," Elaenyra commented. Aemond scoffed.

"I would hope you remember considering you had claimed Aenarys at the same time. We flew side by side at Driftmark that day." Aemond said. Elaenyra smiled at him. Returning the favour, Elaenyra rubbed the back of Aemond's hands.

"How is Vhagar? Aenarys has been restless, and I imagine Vhagar has been the same." Elaenyra said. Aemond nodded.

"The histories have sung that they are closer than any other pair. It shouldn't come as a surprise when they are in distress when separated." He said.

*

Otto stood before the Iron Throne, both the Greens and the Blacks gathered in the room, and Vaemond Velaryon, Elaenyra's uncle. Elaenyra kept looking to the Greens' side to see Aemond looking right at her, a smirk on his face and eye gleaming with admiration. 

"Though it is the great hope of this court that Lord Corlys Velaryon survive his wounds, we gather here with the grim task of dealing with the succession of Driftmark. As Hand, I speak with the King's voice on this and all other matters," Otto said and sat on the throne. "The crown will now hear the petitions. Ser Vaemond of House Velaryon."

Vaemond stepped forward in the room before the Hand and the throne.

"My Queen. My Lord Hand. The history of our noble houses extends beyond the Seven Kingdoms to the days of Old Valyria. For as long as House Targaryen has ruled the skies, House Velaryon has ruled the seas. When the Doom fell on Valyria, our houses became the last of their kind. Our forebearers came to this new land, knowing that were they to fail, it would mean the end to their bloodlines and their name. I have spent my entire life on Driftmark defending my brother's seat. I am Lord Corlys's closest kin, his own blood. The true, unimpeachable blood of House Velaryon runs through my veins." Vaemond claimed. Elaenyra rolled her eyes.

"As it does in my children, the offspring of Laenor Velaryon. If you cared so much about your house's blood, Ser Vaemond, you would not be so bold as to supplant its rightful heir. No, you only speak for yourself and for your own ambition." Rhaenyra argued. Alicent cut into Rhaenyra's statement.

"You will have chance to make your own petition, Princess Rhaenyra. Do Ser Vaemond the courtesy of allowing his to be heard." Alicent intervened. Her motive was noble, allowing one to stake his claim, but her voice made Elaenyra cringe. Elaenyra looked over at Alicent, but Aemond was looking right at Elaenyra, the same look in his eye. Vaemond turned to Rhaenyra. Elaenyra looked at Daemon and Dark Sister on his hip. She was tempted to draw the blade herself and cut down Vaemond for looking at her mother that way.

"What do you know of Velaryon blood, Princess? I could cut my veins and show it to you and you still wouldn't recognize it. This is about the future and survival of my house, not yours." Vaemond said and turned back to the Hand and the Queen. "My Queen, my Lord Hand. This is a matter of blood, not ambition. I place the continuation of the survival of my house and my line above all. I humbly put myself before you as my brother's successor...the Lord of Driftmark and Lord of the Tides." 

"Thank you, Ser Vaemond," Otto said. Vaemond turned on his heel and stepped off the floor.

"Princess Rhaenyra, you may now speak for your son, Lucerys Velaryon," Otto said. Rhaenyra stepped forward with her arms crossed over her bump.

"If I am to grace this farce with some answer, I will start by reminding the court that nearly 20 years ago, in this very--" The doors opened. Rhaenyra turned, and all the attention turned to the door.

"King Viserys of House Targaryen, the First of His Name, King of the Andals, and the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm." A guard announced. Viserys stumbled through the doors. Half his face was covered with a gilded mask, his hair had all but fallen out and his face was littered with scarring. Elaenyra noticed the look of fear and dread on Alicent's face and the bewilderment on Rhaenyra's face. Viserys turned and faced Otto.

"I will sit the throne today." He stated. 

"Your Grace." Otto acknowledged. Viserys stepped to the throne, limping, and a guard stepped forward to help him.

"I will be fine. I will be fine." Viserys said. Stepping forward, his crown fell onto the crown. Daemon stepped forward, picking the crown off the ground and holding it. 

"I said I'm fine," Viserys said. Once he turned and saw it was Daemon that stood by him, he made no objections.

"Come on," Daemon whispered. Daemon helped him up to the throne and sat on it. Daemon reached forward, placed the crown on his head, and stepped back before rejoining his family, as did Rhaenyra. 

"I must... admit... my confusion. I do not understand why petitions are being heard over a settled succession. The only one present... who might offer keener insight into Lord Corlys' wishes is the Princess Rhaenys." Viserys said. All eyes turned to Rhaenys.

"Indeed, Your Grace," Rhaenys said and stepped forward. "It was ever my husband's will that Driftmark pass through Ser Laenor to his trueborn son... Lucerys Velaryon. His mind never changed. Nor did my support of him. As a matter of fact, the Princess Rhaenyra has just informed me of her desire to marry her sons Jace and Luke to Lord Corlys's granddaughters, Baela and Rhaena. A proposal to which I heartily agree." Rhaenys proposed. Elaenyra smiled to herself, again meeting Aemond's eye and seeing a hidden one grace his face.

"Well... the matter is settled. Again. I hereby reaffirm Prince Lucerys of House Velaryon as heir to Driftmark, the Driftwood Throne, and the next Lord of the Tides." Viserys proclaimed. Vaemond grew enraged.

"You break law... and centuries of tradition to install your daughter as heir. Yet you dare tell me... who deserves to inherit the name Velaryon. No. I will not allow it." Vaemond said. Elaenyra swallowed the lump in her throat. The tension began growing.

"Allow it?" Viserys questioned. "Do not forget yourself, Vaemond."

"That is no true Velaryon, and certainly no nephew of mine," Vaemond shouted. Rhaenyra turned to Lucerys.

"Go to your chambers. You have said enough." Rhaenyra said. 

"Lucerys is my true-born grandson. And you... are no more than the second son of Driftmark." Viserys countered.

"You... may run your house as you see fit... but you will not decide the future of mine. My house survived the Doom and a thousand tribulations besides. And gods be damned... I will not see it ended on the account of this--" Vaemond stopped himself. Daemon stepped in. 

"Say it." Daemon encouraged. His eyes flashed with anger, and Elaenyra did the same as she stood by Daemon, eyes burning into Vaemond with the fury of a thousand dragons. Aemond could see that from her as well, and he stood on the complete opposite side of the throne room.

"Her children... are bastards! And she... is... a whore." Vaemond accused. Viserys stood from the throne and drew the Catpaw from his hip.

"I... will have your tongue for that," Viserys said. In a flash, Daemon had stood behind Vaemond and sliced half his head, and Vaemond's body dropped to the floor. The Greens all stepped back, with Helaena covering her ears and trembling.

"He can keep his tongue," Daemon said. Elaenyra watched with admonishment. 

"Disarm him!" The guards called.

"No need," Daemon said, wiping the blood off his sword. Elaenyra saw Aemond look from Vaemond's body, and to see Daemon with a newfound look of admiration. It shocked Elaenyra. Viserys groaned and fell forward.

"Call the maesters!" Alicent called and rushed to Viserys, as did Rhaenyra.

"Father?" Rhaenyra asked. Elaenyra stepped forward, as did Aemond, but he walked to Elaenyra and held her in his arms. Elaenyra could see the shock and disappointment in Aegon, but a silent cheer resonated through Helaena. Elaenyra walked from Aemond to the still-trembling Helaena and held her small hands in Elaenyra's gloved ones.

"Please, my love. You must take something for the pain." Alicent pleaded, holding Viserys in her arms.

"I will not cloud my mind. I must set things right." Viserys said. The maesters came and quickly dragged away Viserys. Elaenyra never had much of a relationship with Viserys, but the idea of her losing her grandsire when she still had much to do made her stomach churn, and Aemond knew it. Aemond rubbed his hand on the small of her back. Alicent watched, disgusted and fuming at her son's actions, but the son could not care less.

*

All the Greens and Blacks stood around the table. Elaenyra sat in between Aegon and Jacaerys, directly in front of where Viserys will be sitting. Indistinct conversations surrounded the room until the doors opened. Everyone stood as Viserys was carried into the room. Everyone sat back down, and Elaenyra noticed Aemond eying her.

"How good it is to see you all tonight, together," Viserys said. The room fell into silence, and the only notable tension was Aemond and Elaenyra giving each other secret looks across the table.

"Prayer before we begin?" Alicent questioned.

"Yes," Viserys responded. Everyone folded their hands over the table.

"May the Mother smile down on this gathering with love. May the Smith mend the bonds that have been broken for far too long. And to Vaemond Velaryon, may the gods give him rest." Alicent prayed. Elaenyra opened her eyes to see Daemon smirking. Elaenyra quickly grabbed a grape and threw it at Daemon, making him silently chuckle. She looked over to see Aemond eying her and also silently chuckling.

"This is an occasion for celebration, it seems. My grandsons, Jace and Luke, will marry their cousins, Baela and Rhaena, further strengthening the bond between our houses. A toast to the young Princes... and their betrothed" Viserys began. Everyone raised their glasses.

"Hear, hear!" Daemon cheered.

"Well done, Jace. You'll finally get to lie with a woman." Aegon said between Elaenyra to Jacaerys. Jacaerys set his goblet down and leaned back in the chair, biting back a response.

"Let us toast as well Prince Lucerys... the future Lord of the Tides," Viserys said, and everyone again raised their glasses.

"Hear, hear," Baela said.

"You'll be great." Rhaena encouraged. Elaenyra smiled to herself. Her heart fluttered in her chest, and for once after so long, she was happy.

"You do know how the act is done, I assume? At least in principle? Where to put your cock and all that?" Aegon pressed. Elaenyra grimaced. 

"Let it be, cousin," Baela added. Elaenyra grabbed a knife and hid it under her napkin sitting over her dress.

"You can play the jester if you wish, but hold your tongue before my betrothed," Jacaerys responded. Viserys stood from the chair.

"It both gladdens my heart and fills me with sorrow to see these faces around the table. The faces most dear to me in all the world... yet grown so distant from each other in the years past." He begun. Viserys reached up and began unclasping the mask. Pulling it off, he set it on the table. He had a hole through the side of his mouth, and an eye missing from its socket. "My own face... is no longer a handsome one... if indeed it ever was. But tonight... I wish you to see me... as I am. Not just a King... but your father. Your brother. Your husband... and your grandsire. Who may not, it seems... walk for much longer among you. Let us no longer hold ill feelings in our hearts. The crown cannot stand strong if the House of the Dragon remains divided. But set aside your grievances. If not for the sake of the crown... then for the sake of this old man who loves you all so dearly." He said and dropped back in his seat.

Elaenyra looked from Aemond and Lucerys. Uncertain and on edge. Rhaenyra stood, glass raised and head high.

"I wish to raise my cup to Her Grace, the Queen. I love my father. But I must admit that no one has stood... more loyally by his side than his good wife. She has tended to him with... unfailing devotion, love, and honor. And for that, she has my gratitude... and my apology." Rhaenyra declared and sat down. Elaenyra felt tears come to her eyes.

"Your graciousness moves me deeply, Princess. We are both mothers... and we love our children. We have more in common than we sometimes allow." Alicent said and stood from her chair. "I raise my cup to you and to your house. You will make a fine queen."

Otto looked up at Alicent with his brow raised. Everyone drank. Aegon stood and walked by Baela to fill his cup.

"I... I regret the disappointment you are soon to suffer. But if you ever wish to know what it is to be well satisfied, all you have to do is ask." Aegon poked at Jacaerys and Baela. Jacaerys shot from his chair, slamming his hands on the table and getting the attention of everyone in the room, and even Aemond stood, ready to defend his brother. Jacaerys raised his cup, and "punched" Aegon's shoulder.

"To Prince Aegon and Prince Aemond. We have not seen each other in years, but I have fond memories of our shared youth." Jacaerys said. Elaenyra raised her brows as she drank. Fond memories? The last memory you have is Luke taking his bloody eye. "And as men, I hope we may yet be friends and allies. To you and your family's good health, dear uncles." Jacaerys finished and drank.

"To you as well," Aegon said, and Aemond sat back down.

"Beware the beast beneath the boards," Helaena spoke to herself.

"Well done, my boy," Viserys said. Helaena shot up with her glass in hand. 

"I would like to toast to Baela and Rhaena. They'll be married soon. It isn't so bad. Mostly he just ignores you... except sometimes when he's drunk." Helaena said with a smile. Elaenyra laughed into her wine, as did Daemon. Seven bless her. 

"Good," Otto said.

"Let us have some music," Viserys said, pounding the floor with his cane. Jace stood and walked to Helaena, holding his hand out. The two stood to dance. Looking around the table, Elaenyra felt true joy in her heart. The faces of the people in her family, though some may have been more reluctant, they were still family. But, it also felt wrong. It was as if they were all actors in a play, pretending to be a happy family when so much backstabbing and dishonesty had spread rampantly. The Greens and their undisputed hatred towards Elaenyra's mother, and the history of Rhaenyra and Alicent.

From being best friends to enemies in a small number of years. Especially with Alicent getting fed lies from Ser Otto daily.

"Guards," Alicent called. As Viserys was carried out, the large pan of roasted pig entered. When set down, Elaenyra saw Aemond and Lucerys staring each other down. Before Aemond slammed his hand on the table and stood up, glass in hand.

"Final tributes." He said. All eyes were on him now. And Elaenyra remembers Aemond as one to be more secluded and quiet. This was new. Aemond turned his head and looked at Elaenyra.

"First. To my lovely, beautiful, and pure Princess, Elaenyra Velaryon. I promise to always be dutiful towards you and protect you from all the dangers of the world." He toasted. Elaenyra looked at him, shocked and her mouth slightly opened. Her chest heaved under her dress and her face flushed pink. Everyone else at the table had the same expression; shocked, confused, and disappointed from Alicent, Otto, Daemon, Rhaenyra, and Aegon. Helaena smiled at her brother and raised her glass

"Velaryon? She'll be a Targaryen soon and bare Aemond's children." Helaena said. Elaenyra hid her red face behind her hands. Aemond drank from the cup at his sister's words.

"And how many beautiful she will bare," Aemond added. Gods, take me now. 

"Finally. To the health of my nephews: Jace...Luke...and Joffrey. Each of them handsome, wise...strong." Aemond said. Alicent folded her hands together.

"Aemond." The Queen scolded.

"Come...Let us drain our cups to these three...Strong boys." He said. Elaenyra grimaced.

"I dare you to say that again." Jace combated. 

"Why? 'Twas only a compliment." Aemond argued. Jace approached Aemond, and Aemond approached Jace. "Do you not think yourself Strong?" He questioned. Before Jace was able to throw his punch, Elaenyra shot up and grabbed Jace by his hair, and threw him to the ground in front of Helaena. 

"Stop this madness! Did you not hear what our grandsire said about the House of the Dragon?!" Elaenyra shouted. Rhaenyra and Daemon approached and stood in front of Jace, Luke, and Elaenyra.

"Why would you say such a thing before these people?" Alicent questioned Aemond.

"I was merely expressing how proud I am of my family, Mother. Mm, thought it seems my nephews aren't quite as proud of theirs." Aemond responded. Elaenyra huffed and turned to Aemond, slapping him hard across his face. That alone took the entire assembly by surprise. Even though Aemond had lost an eye, the harsh delivery of Elaenyra's slap looked like that hurt him more. Elaenyra stormed out of the room, slamming the doors behind her.

*

Elaenyra walked the halls of the Keep, fists balled by her side and her brow knitted together. As she walked, she realized she had begun approaching the Queen's Apartments. Walking by the door, she could hear faint voices growing much louder and that the heavy door was cracked open.

"Is that what you are? A traitor?!" It was Alicent who yelled, but at who, Elaenyra did not yet know. Until a voice was quick to answer.

"You call me a traitor for loving someone? For caring?" It was Aemond. Elaenyra stood by the doorframe as she listened in.

"You care? You betrayed our family, Aemond!" Alicent again shouted.

"What fucking family are we? You sit here waiting for father to die, and what a beautiful love story you have! You have only expressed care over Aegon because he was the only reason father wanted you, for a son. Then the rest of us came, and we mean nothing to you. You call me a traitor, but it was you who split this family, all because of your desire to have Aegon be crowned king, and it was you who learned me of betrayal!" He shouted in response. Elaenyra froze in her spot before the sound of his heavy steps approaching the door brought her back to reality. He stopped before the door.

"If I will ever have a family, it will be the one I make with Elaenyra, and no one will stop me from marrying her." He said and walked out of the room. Elaenyra quickly moved from the area, hastily looking to follow wherever Aemond had gone, but the winding of the halls took hold of her and she found herself lost. Until she followed the sound of a raging brazier, and into the throne room she went. Standing before the throne, Elaenyra slowly approached the magnificent piece of history with her hand outstretched. Very gently, Elaenyra grasped the pummel of a sword. She looked up at it, preserving this moment in her mind. Even while she looked at it, her mind replayed all the events that had transpired centuries before her. Aegon the Dragon and his sisters, King Aenys and Maegor the Cruel, with his Black Brides, and the sights of him upon Balerion and Visenya on Vhagar, and the peaceful reign of her great-grandsire, Jaehaerys.

"The swords of Aegon the Dragon's enemies all melted and forged together with the inferno of Balerion the Black Dread. But I'm sure you knew that." A voice said. Elaenyra turned her head and saw Aemond descending the steps. Turning her head back, she looked at the charred metal of the swords.

"Everyone knows that, Aemond." She responded. She heard him chuckle and his steps approach. She could feel his heat radiating onto her. Elaenyra sighed.

"You should sit on it. I think you would look magnificent." He said. She laughed, before turning her back to the throne and slowly sitting down. Her other hand rested on the side of the throne, and with a playful smile, Aemond dropped to one knee before her.

"Mayhaps it should be you that becomes Queen after your mother has completed her reign," Aemond said, head down. Elaenyra again chuckled. 

"And would you be my King?" She asked. He raised his head.

"If you'd have me." He said hand pressed to his heart. She smiled. When moving her hand to extend it to him, a blade from the throne sliced the palm of her hand. She hissed and looked at the blood dripping from her hand to the stone floor. 

"When family splits into Green and Black and blood is split, Blue cries her tears and Black ceases their rage, but Green persists until the last one dies. In the darkness of night, Green will join Blue, becoming Black. Blue will follow Black, and Green will follow Blue." Elaenyra whispered. Aemond looked at her, confused until he looked upon her dripping palm. Standing up, his hand gently cupped her palm and raised it to his lips. Looking into her eyes, he licked at the blood streaming from the cut. The metallic taste lingered on his tongue, and the aftertaste of fire and brimstone remained much longer. 

Still holding her hand, he pulled her from the throne and began leading her from the grand hall. The sound of a kingsguard knight approaching stopped both Aemond and Elaenyra. It was Ser Criston Cole.

"My prince, my princess. His Grace has called for the both of you." He said. The two looked at each other before going to where Viserys had stayed.

*

The door opened, letting Elaenyra and Aemond inside the King's chambers. The room was dark, save for a few lit candelabras by the King's bedside. Pulling back the curtain and standing at his bedside, Viserys faintly opened his remaining eye and reached his hand out for Elaenyra. She grabbed it and squeezed, trying to fight the burn in her throat.

"Your Grace," Elaenyra whispered. He forced himself up and groaned in discomfort. Within the next hour, he was going to be gone.

"My granddaughter, my son." Viserys acknowledged. Elaenyra wiped away the tears on her cheek. Viserys pointed over to a stationary kit, and Aemond walked over, grabbing it and holding the quill in his hand.

"Write what I say, my son." Viserys pleaded and Aemond nodded. Opening his eye, Viserys looked at his son.

"I, Viserys of House Targaryen, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, hereby declare that upon my death, my granddaughter, Elaenyra, daughter of my heir, Princess Rhaenyra, wed my son, Prince Aemond of House Targaryen." Viserys declared. Quickly writing it all, Aemond handed it to Viserys to sign it. Signing it and sealing it with a golden dragon wax seal, Aemond set it aside and looked upon Viserys.

With a heavy inhale, Viserys began speaking.

"My son, Aemond, please forgive me for my absence through your life, both yours and your siblings. Aegon, Helaena, Daeron, Rhaenyra, and you, my children, my beloved children. Forgive me for my sins." Viserys pleaded.

"Father--" Aemond paused.

"Mayhaps if I had been more present in your lives, all this hatred and grief would not have happened. Please forgive me, and make peace where I failed." Viserys begged. In a rapid motion, Aemond grabbed his father's free hand. Elaenyra stepped back, letting them have their moment in peace and silence.

"Love each other, you and Elaenyra, like I should have loved your mother," Viserys said. Aemond nodded. The two sat in silence for a long number of minutes until Elaenyra walked back, kissing Viserys on the forehead and trying her hardest to keep the broken sob from leaving her mouth.

"Goodnight, grandfather." She said. He weakly smiled at her as Aemond and Elaenyra left the room and closed the heavy door behind them. Aemond grasped her hand, seeing the blood in her palm.

"Come, I'll take care of your wound." He said, and began leading her away, to Aemond's apartments.

*

Opening the door, Aemond let Elaenyra into the large room. Elaenyra marvelled at the height of the ceilings and the raging inferno in the quartz fireplace. Pillars decorated the walls and silk curtains draped from them, hiding a large bed. The windows spanned from the floor to the ceiling, with a view of the city and a balcony.

"Elaenyra." He called. Elaenyra turned her head to see Aemond holding linen in his hand. "For your wound." He finished. Elaenyra walked over and extended her hand to him. Elaenyra watched as he wrapped the bandage around her cut. Aemond secured it, but still did not release her hand. Elaenyra only looked at where he held her wounded hand. It was calloused and built from years of training, and Elaenyra revelled in the feeling of his skin on her. It was clear now to Elaenyra. The lightning sparked to life under his skin, heating his blood like the dragon he was. And Alicent will never understand that for all she sees is her baby, her dutiful Aemond.

His eye held a wild glint in it, completely different from the drunken shine of his worthless and vile brother. Elaenyra withdrew her hand and looked into his eye. To her surprise, Aemond had a bashful look on his face.

"We were children when last we saw another," Aemond said. She nodded and raised her hand to rest on his tunic, slowly going up until she reached his collar.

"Elaenyra." He whispered.

"We are no longer children." She whispered. Nodding, Aemond stepped closer to her, faces inches from one another. Elaenyra leaned forward a bit, looking at Aemond for permission. When he nodded, she leaned in and pressed her lips against his. Their lips together felt like fire sparking into a raging inferno as Aemond pressed his body against her, hands tangling into her curly tresses. Elaenyra sighed into the kiss as Aemond bit into her lower lip. The metal taste of her blood danced on his tongue and set his body aflame. 

"Your taste is so sweet, Elaenyra." He said. Elaenyra slowly pulled back, desiring the feeling of Aemond's lips to linger a bit longer. Her hands reached behind his head to undo the wrapping that tied his hair back, letting it fall and fan around his shoulders. Her head leaned forward, foreheads connecting.

"I want you." She whispered. Grabbing her hand, Aemond led her through the curtains to the grand bed. Standing to the side of the bed, Aemond held her head in his hands as he pressed another desire-fueled kiss to her silky lips. He was hesitant. Elaenyra reached up and grasped his wrists, looking into his eye as he pulled back.

"Fall into me and I'll catch you." She whispered. He nodded, hands withdrawing and reaching the back of her dress, untying the laces and pulling the dress from her shoulders. Aemond's lips pressed against each inch of skin that was revealed, and she grasped handfuls of leather on his vest.

"Aemond." Elaenyra whimpered. Her mouth fell open with a gasp as he bit into her skin. Pulling back, he looked at the growing red mark on her shoulder with satisfaction. 

"I love you." He admitted. "I am who I am because of you. You are every reason, every hope, and every dream I've ever had, and no matter what happens to us in the future, I will always be yours." He spoke. Elaenyra quietly sniffled as her eyes grew glossy. His hands held her face and wiped away a tear.

"Don't cry, my love. Please don't." He said. She shook her head, beginning to undo the claspings on his vest, and pulled it off, moving to the laces of his shirt. Slowly pulling it off, Elaenyra let her eyes wander over his torso and upper chest. He was toned, not overly built as she had seen of Ser Harwin, but enough to see the muscles that built beneath his skin. Once again, she felt him hesitate.

"Don't leave. And don't hesitate." She pleaded. He nodded, again placing his forehead against hers.

"I'll never give you away. I already made that mistake." He said. Grabbing what remained of the dress, he pulled it off her and left her in the slip beneath it. The see-through fabric did nothing to hide her breasts or stomach, and a flame burst through him. In a frenzy, he kicked off his boots and unlaced his pants, not yet pulling them off. Instead, he grabbed the back of her thighs and laid her on the bed, and climbed on top of her. The heat of the room ran through her, drenching her neck and hands in sweat. Aemond once again pressed his lips against hers, more gently compared to the last ones. The other ones were fervent and spirited, this one was delicate and soft. 

"I heard what you said to Alicent about me." She said between kisses. He smiled to himself, and hands fumbled with the tie on her slip.

"I meant it. Every word was true." He said. She smiled at Aemond with a chuckle and sat up.

"I know you meant it." She spoke, her eyes glinting with softness. Aemond smirked and pulled at the tie on her slip, watching it fall and bundle around her stomach. 

"And I'd prove it a million times over if you asked me to," Aemond said. Kissing her once again, Aemond shredded her slip from her body, resulting in her biting back a squeal. The sound left his mouth as he watched her shiver was obscene and vile. Surely one his mother would not be proud about, or hers. Elaenyra tugged at his pants, pleading for him to take them off. Standing to the side of the bed, he stripped himself of his confines and watched as Elaenyra's eyes settled on what was now visible.

"Eyes on me, my love." He said. She looked up at him, eyes dark and body radiating heat from the raging fire. Slowly, Aemond got down on one knee before the bed and grabbed her legs, pulling her body close to him.

"I have waited far too long for this, I will not waste another moment when I could finally quell my hunger for you." He said and used his fingers to divide her folds before licking a slow strip up. Elaenyra shuddered and sealed her eyes shut. Her hands fisted the sheets beneath her as Aemond worked his tongue all over her sopping petals, making her bite into her lip, hoping to quell the sounds of her arousal. Much to Aemond's distaste. He had waited years for this moment, he will not see Elaenyra silence herself.

"You would try and deny me the sounds of your pleasure?" He questioned. She shook her head violently.

"If anyone were to hear..." She fell silent as his thumb found her throbbing clit, in place of her words, and an aggressive groan left her throat. He wore a deviant smirk.

"You were saying?" He mocked. Her back arched off the bed and her hands found their way to his hair, tangling in it and lightly tugging. Aemond groaned, the sound hitting Elaenyra's ears so perfectly that she bit into her bottom lip and smiled. Elaenyra squealed as Aemond forced a finger inside her, again smirking as her expression hardened.

"Sing for me some more, won't you?" He asked. Kissing at her clit, Elaenyra moaned on contact and silently praised the gods for his tongue. His hands smoothed over the skin of her thighs as he ate at her. Her lips remained parted as light breaths fell from her, but grew in volume as his finger worked inside her and caressed the sweet spot that made her toes curl. Her body grew quick to be drenched in sweat as her orgasm began racing towards her and tugging more roughly on his hair.

"Please." She whimpered. Looking at her from between her thighs, Aemond worked faster against her and took great satisfaction from the trembling of her legs. Inserting another finger, Elaenyra squealed, making Aemond chuckle against her skin. 

"Such a beautiful sound. I wonder what your mother would think if she heard you cry out for me like that." Aemond said. Elaenyra's head fell back into the sheets as her back again arched off the bed, her mouth falling open and groaning.

Her mouth formed into a perfect 'o' shape, her back arching off the bed and hands fisting the sheets below her for mercy. She could feel something in her belly start to tighten, and it raced towards her, almost uncomfortable.

"..Aemond?! Aemond, what is...what is that?" She questioned. Pleading, she hopes he had the answer. Aemond pulled away from her clit with a pop, before looking up at her with a satisfied smirk, and mouth coated in her arousal.

"What are you talking about, my love?" He asked. Aemond waited for Elaenyra to gather her thoughts. The hand that held her thigh began to squeeze the skin calmly lightly and gently caressing the smooth skin of her inner thigh, with his knuckles lightly going down to reach her heated cunt. Without rush, Aemond softly dragged the pads of his calloused fingertips along her soaked folds, nonchalantly spreading her lips and occasionally dipping in the tip of one of his fingers inside, collecting her arousal and spreading it over her folds. She could barely focus, her eyes half-lidded with lust and pleasure, her limbs sweaty.

"My stomach feels strange." She confessed, feeling confused and her limbs becoming heavy. Aemond nodded, though he knew she was not paying attention - instead, she stared at the ceiling, her mind elsewhere and pretty face blissed out. Nonetheless, Aemond did not stop reassuring her that she was safe with him.

"You're alright, my love. You are experiencing your first orgasm. Do not fret, my love. I have you, I have you. Just relax with me. Can you do that for me, my love?" He asked. She pleasantly hummed, before feeling Aemond pinch her lower belly, causing her to wince in discomfort and her whole body flinch. 

"I need verbal confirmation, my sweet niece." He said lowly, though he continued prodding one of his fingers against her leaking hole, hearing a faint "yes!" come from Elaenyra, before sliding one of his long fingers inside her.

"That's my sweet niece." He commended, leaning his head back down and dragging his tongue along her clit once again. Her body shuddered to hear him call her his sweet niece. And Aemond knew.

"Hmm. So wet for me. What, does it arouse you knowing your uncle will fuck you stupid?" He questioned. She nodded feverishly and arched her back off the bed.

"Oh...please, please! Aemond - I can't... I can't h-hold it..." Elaenyra wailed and thrashed against the sheets. Someone heard that. Aemond did not stop, instead, he went harder and faster, urged by his desire to take anything she was willing to give. 

"Cum for me, my love. Cum for your uncle." He demanded, words mumbled against her clit, but audible nonetheless. Elaenyra could feel his teeth just barely scrape against her pulsating clit, just as he tried pushing a third finger into her sopping cunt, making her cry out in his chamber. Once the third finger was pushed inside - a tight fight, but managing - Aemond started pumping all three fingers as quickly as possible, simultaneously licking and sucking at her puffy clit, making her whine so prettily.

"Oh, fuck." She cried, eyes widening as she let the curse slip from her mouth. She couldn't focus, since the beginning of her orgasm began approaching, making the band in her belly tighten to the point of it bordering pain. Aemond quickly switched his fingers for his tongue, his tongue starting to delve deep inside her dripping cunt. His fingers now swirling in her clit in fast, tight circles. The pressure on your clit as well as the wet muscle of Aemond's tongue was enough to have her burst all over his face.

She was panting, and a crying mess. Tears were pooling in her eyes and little hiccups escaped her. Removing his mouth from her, he gently kissed along her thighs and sat up from his now sore knees. Her hiccups were replaced with whimpers of overstimulation. There was a ringing in her ears, a numbness tingling her fingertips, soft lips trailing up her skin, leaving delicate touches along the skin. She was spent. Completely spent. But when she looked down at his erect cock, her eyes widened, completely petrified. Aemond climbed on top of her, before switching for her to be sitting on him, legs on either side of his hips.

"We go at your pace, agreed?" He asked. She nodded. But, she is immediately shy about her body being so exposed. She took his hands, squeezing as she slowly lowered onto his cock.

"I..." The words wouldn't leave her mouth. She tried to sink onto him, but the burn stopped her.

"Take your time, love. It is quite alright." He comforted. The nerves slowly fell away and began sinking further down him. Her head fell back, an obscene moan leaving her mouth. She was small standing next to him, and she was still small while atop him. Aemond kissed her neck, while open-mouthed and groaning at her tightness.

"Gods, I can cum just from this." He groaned. Pressing her hands on his chest, she pushed him down onto the bed. Aemond saw the wild look in her eyes, and he refused to acknowledge that it made his restraint start withering away. Finally fully seated on him, Elaenyra huffed in desperation and grabbed his hand. Pressing it to her lower stomach, Elaenyra slowly began grinding on him. Beneath his hand, Aemond could feel where he rested inside her, and his slightly agape mouth was replaced with a wicked grin. 

"You take me so well. Almost like you were made to be fucked by me." He said. Elaenyra threw her head back and smiled.

"We were meant to burn together, Aemond." She spoke, the language of High Valyrian falling off her tongue so effortlessly and beautifully it made Aemond's eyes roll into the back of his head.

"The Velaryons are made of the sea. But you and I, are made of fire." Aemond replied, also in High Valyrian. Elaenyra released her hold on him and let him sit up. Aemond gathered her in his arms and kissed her. Mini explosions ran through her blood and set her skin ablaze, drenching her body in more sweat. She had wasted no time in gathering her strength and raising herself from him before sinking back down. Her jaw fell slack and her arms wrapped around his neck, nails digging into his skin as she whimpered. His hands were firmly placed on her hips, aiding her in her ministrations. Her head fell into his neck where kissed ever so lightly. Removing a hand, he grabbed a fistful of her hair and pulled her head back harshly. Her lidded eyes were dazed and glossy, but when meeting Aemond's eye and seeing the darkness, her eyes shot wide open.

"You scare me, Aemond." She moaned. Aemond smirked and kissed her harshly. 

"Good." He said. His hand left her hair and delved between their bodies, connecting at her clit and rubbing in harsh circles. She squealed as her walls fluttered around his cock.

"Shit!" Aemond shouted. Grabbing the back of her thighs, Aemond turned them onto her back with him atop her. Aemond finally gave in and let his carnal desires take over as he relentlessly pounded away at her insides. Unapologetically, Elaenyra screamed as an uncomfortable feeling settled in her lower stomach. Aemond was quick to slap a hand over her mouth to keep her quiet as he chased his release.

Aemond's hips stilled as he emptied his seed inside her. Lifting her in his hands, Aemond kissed her sweaty forehead and smiled at her. Following, Aemond again pressed his forehead to hers.

"I'm yours, Elaenyra. I am yours, and you are mine, from this day until the end of my days. May the Gods take me if I break this oath to you, my love." Aemond declared. Brushing a hand through his ivory locks, Elaenyra smiled at him and kissed the tip of his nose.

starry eyes sparking up my darkest night

pairing: aemond targaryen x female!tyrell!reader

summary: aemond has only wanted two things in his life. a dragon and to marry the pretty tyrell girl, now he has both. 

warnings: smut, literally almost all smut very little plot, virginity loss, oral sex (female receiving), fingering (female receiving), creampie, breeding kink, light innocence kink, light size kink, use of pet names, blood is mentioned two (2) times, aemond has a huge cock i don’t make the rules, and breeder balls, eye patch gets taken OFF when aemond fucks his lady wife, implied jealousy, implied voyeurism (? just incase?), out of character aemond (?), i think thats all?

notes: REPOST FROM MY OLD BLOG. i am a whore for a villain. aemond is so hot i love him. this is a side blog, i just didnt want to post on my main blog, im fairly rusty at writing smut, so any and all feedback will be greatly appreciated!! please interact if you see this because i think tumblr hates me:((!! title credits: call it what you want by taylor swift

word count: 5.3k

The wedding had been lovely, truly, but you think everyone could tell your heart wasn’t really in it. Few smiles reached your eyes, and you couldn’t lie that a part of you had felt slightly devasted you were being married in the Dragon Pit in the sight of the Seven, and not the Godswood in Winterfell that you’d come to love during your time in Cregan Stark’s presence many years ago.

You’d thought it was a grand wedding, perhaps too grand for the marriage of a second son, but Aemond is a Prince, so what did you know, besides that and the feeling that the Hand and Queen were trying to sway your father’s loyalty to them when King Viserys joins his late wife, perhaps even go as far as to hope for the favor of your lady mother’s family.

An extravagant weeklong event. Tourneys and hunts and beautiful dinners with lots of dancing. Many lords and ladies had come, many of your friends from childhood present and even your eldest brother. It made the evening feel less lonely for you to be in the presence of people you know so well.

You had been surprised, however, to see the Princess Rhaenyra present with her husband (uncle?) and their children. You heard often of the animosity between the two families, and you were sure she wouldn’t have come. You’d been even more surprised when she had approached you at, a smile on her pretty face.

“Lady Tyrell, you make a most beautiful bride,” She smiles fondly at you.

Aemond tensed next to you, so did the Queen when her next words left her mouth before you could even let out a proper thank you for her compliment, “Though, I must say I am disappointed that your father had not chosen my own son to be your husband. We were heavily in discussion regarding it.”

Your eyebrows furrow as your head turned over in the direction of your father who was seated to your left, “I must say, Princess, I did not know I had many suitors.”

“Why would she want to marry your Strong son, dear sister, when she had better offers?” Aemond spit the words out hatefully at the same time you try to answer her, glaring over her shoulder at the son in question. Jacaerys.

You’d met him on a few occasions, and he was a kind boy. A little closer to your age than your now husband. You didn’t think you knew him well enough to warrant any sort of affections from him, but you suppose that doesn’t matter, since you’d only met Aemond once as children before your father received the letter of the marriage offer from the Hand of the King.

“Aemond,” Alicent had hissed through gritted teeth, “this is a joyous occasion, one you had wanted so desperately. So, please, do not.”

Your now husband huffed out a bitter laugh before grabbing his cup and drowning the rest of his drink. You furrow your eyebrows at her words and look to Aemond slightly confused. He wanted to desperately marry you?

Rhaenyra ignored his comment and stayed looking at you, eyebrows having a slight furrow at your words, “You are a beautiful young woman and you come from one of the great houses, I can promise you that your father was drowning in marriage offers. But I do hope you will be happy here, with my dear brother.”

She walks away before you could say anything, tensing to stop a flinch when Aemond slammed his cup down harshly.

“That fucking cunt. How dare she come over here and say all those things. As if we did not just get married. As if your husband is not sitting right fucking next to you.” He was seething, and it honestly shocked you. You have barely even spoken to him; you really didn’t think he even liked you much.

“Aemond, you will watch your mouth in front of your wife,” Alicent spoke out, slightly baffled that he would say such things in front of you, in front of your family.

Your father is tense next to you, and you place your hand on his own and squeeze. This can’t be that bad. You can endure it.

As you look at Aemond, you can’t help but wonder if he will even be so bad. As if he can hear your thoughts, his hand moves to rest tenderly on your own.

The rest of the evening blurs together until Aegon stumbled his way over to where you were seated, “I believe we should be approaching the bedding ceremony soon, dear brother?”

And though his words had been directed at your husband, you felt his lust and drunk eyes on you. The mention of the bedding ceremony had you tense, and Aegon’s eyes don’t do anything to soothe your nerves.

“There will be no bedding ceremony.” Aemond spoke without a waver in his voice. What?

Aegon’s head snapped towards his brother, “And why the fuck not? It’s tradition.”

Aemond hummed, unamused, “I will not make a spectacle of my lady wife.” His words make your heart soften slightly

“She will not be your lady wife for long if there is no proof.” Aegon tried not to sound as desperate as he felt.

“There will be blood on my sheets come morning and a babe in her belly,” Aemond spoke as he stood up, towering over his older brother before he moved his face close enough to where no one, except you- much to your embarrassment, “though I do suppose if you are that concerned, you may stand outside my quarters and listen for the confirmation that my marriage has been consummated.”

Aemond takes your hand and pulls you from the room after that, moving quickly as if attempting not to be noticed.

“Why are we not doing the bedding ceremony? Is it not tradition? Will we not get in trouble?” Your voice is slightly panicked at the idea of getting in trouble for not doing what you are supposed to do, causing him to stop outside the door of his chambers and look at you.

“I would not feel like a very good husband if there were a bunch of old men with greedy eyes seeing your bare body before I got to see it,” He looks serious, and he sounds it as well. Though his voice lowers slightly into a possessive tone when the next words come out, “I also would not like anyone to see it after I do.”

                                                        εїз

Large hands take the many pins out of your hair before gently starting to unknot and remove the many intricate braids the servant girls spent hours doing not long ago. It feels like a waste, makes you feel as if you are a spectacle for viewing and gawking at only.

Which you suppose you are- if you were being honest with yourself. You’d been lucky to inherit not only your mother’s beauty, but as well as the charm that all the women from your lord fathers house seem to have.

You wonder why he insisted that the handmaiden leave, from what your mother told you it was typical of them to prepare you for the upcoming moments.

Your hair is abandoned for the strings at the back of your dress once Aemond has removed all the braids. The air is cold on your back and your hands are shaking when his own move to touch your bare skin in a way that no one else has. One hand is on the nape rubbing in an almost affectionate way as the other moves to pull the extravagant gown from your body.

You didn’t think you could get anymore tense than you already were, until your wedding dress dropped from your body unceremoniously onto the cold ground.

Goosebumps cover your body as you’re fully exposed to the cold air, despite the fire going in the fireplace. His hands move to map your body, starting at your shoulders and slowly moving down to your hips.

His lips on your neck causes you to gasp in surprise, your belly warming at the feeling of not only his lips on you but his hands on your hips, squeezing softly at the skin and biting back a grown when the reach your ass.

His mouth moves from your neck to your shoulders, leaving wet, open mouthed kisses on your skin as he makes his way down your back. You close your eyes at the unfamiliar feeling stirring inside you, a surprised gasp escaping you when a dull bite lands on your hip.

You feel his smile against your skin as he does the same to your other hip before he stands up to make his way around your body.

He stands in front of you, fully clothed still despite having taken off all of your clothing, leaving you bare for him to feast upon with his eye.

Aemond’s hands are calloused and rough, you assume from years of sword training and dragon riding, as they caress your face. His bright eye locked on yours, watching for any reactions. Thumbs trace under your eyes, over your nose, and your lips.

“Have you ever been touched this way?” His voice is quiet as his hands move down your neck towards your collarbones.

“No, my Prince,” Your voice pitches up at the end when his mouth finds your neck again, his teeth piercing your skin again.

“Not even your own hands?” His tone is serious but the smirk you feel against your skin lets you know he’s teasing.

You feel your face heat up at his implication. “No. Never.”

Aemond lets out a pleased hum at your words, soft voice stirring something primal in him.

His mouth is on yours before you can think of something else to say. His lips are a little dry, something you didn’t notice when he kissed you earlier at the wedding. One hand grips your hip as the other tangles into your hair, tugging lightly causing you to gasp. He takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth.

It’s an unfamiliar feeling, all of it is, though. You’re overwhelmed and throbbing at your core.

Can he hear your heartbeat as well as you can? It’s pounding in your ears along with a rush of heat that takes over your whole body.

His tongue coaxes yours to move against it, and you wonder if this is how it’s supposed to feel. If you’re supposed to feel this good. Are you even allowed to feel this good? Your handmaiden had told you on many occasions      that men only cared for their own pleasure, and you would be feeling a lot of pain. This didn’t feel like anything she described.

Aemond pulls his mouth from yours and looks at you with a hooded eye, pupil so blown you can’t see the blue of it. There’s a light flush on his cheeks as he looks at your swollen lips.

“You are quite beautiful, my lady.” It’s said so quietly, you wonder if it was supposed to be a secret. You’d like to know all his secrets, you think.

When you don’t respond, his mouth attaches itself to your neck. A sharp pain if him biting is followed by a light sucking as if to soothe it.

You aren’t sure where to put your hands, they’ve stayed at your side due to your shyness and uncertainty.

“Have you been with many women?” The question leaves your mouth before your mind even processes that you’ve asked it.

His mouth stops moving against your skin as your blood runs cold, shaking, and wide eyed when he pulls away to look at you.

Sharpe eye studies your features, like a lion about to eat a lamb. Or, perhaps, a dragon ready to burn a rose.

He steps back, taking your hand as he sighs and looks away from you in, shame?

“When I was thirteen, Aegon took me to a brothel. Told me it was time to get it wet,”

You grimace at his word choice, but when you see how he’s looking at you, you squeeze his hand.

“To put it lightly, my dear lady, it was not a very nice experience. I have been with very few women since,”

Shame fills you at his words, and before he can continue you speak quickly, “I am so sorry, I did not mean to push you into speaking about an event you-“

His hands are back on your face, holding your cheeks, “You are my wife.” It’s a statement, and his words come out slightly harsh, “You are entitled to every piece of me. I will tell you everything you wish to know about me,”

His kiss is full of fire this time, claiming your lips with such an intensity. His body is pressed full against yours; you can feel his toned chest through his shirt. The fabric is soft against your chest, and as if they have a mind of their own, your hands start grasping at them hem of it desperately.

“Aemond,” It’s the first time you’ve spoken his name that way, he likes the way it sounds. Desperate, needy. Maybe he just likes that it comes from you.

Aemond was nine the first time he saw you, still had both eyes back then. You’d been visiting the Keep with your father. The King wanted updates about something, Aemond didn’t know or care what it was. All he knew was that you were the prettiest girl he’d ever seen.

You had such grace and were so kind. Helaena didn’t have many friends at court due to her fascination with insects. But you held all the creepy crawlers she held out to you, spent the day reading to her so she didn’t have to pull herself away from the bugs.

You were younger than him, but he didn’t care. He liked the way your voice sounded as you read to Helaena, how you laughed when she would whisper out name ideas for her bugs and then look to you to see if the name suited the bug, how you smiled at him when you would catch him sitting just far enough to not be seen but to hear.

You left with your father, and then a year later he heard a servant that you’d been taken to Winterfell to see how you’d pair with Cregan Stark.

After he lost his eye, he told his mother it was a fair trade, and that he’d gotten Vhagar in return, so it didn’t matter. But after he heard Rhaenyra speak of you to Daemon, of her hopes to marry you to Jace, he back tracked.

When they returned to King’s Landing from Driftmark, he told his mother he felt like he deserved to choose his future bride- and that he would want you in return for his lost eye. Truly the rest was history; she brought the request to Viserys stating that it was the least he could be given after what was taken from him.

Viserys allowed it but stated that it would have to be on your father’s terms on when and how if he agreed. It was no surprise that he did agree, though. Lord Tyrell is a proud man and agreed after a few years of discussion and persuasion.

“My lady,” Your thighs involuntarily press together at the way he says it, like he owns you; and he does.

He smirks at the way your body reacts to him just speaking, “May I touch you?”

You moan and breathe out a whine, “If you’d like,”

He pulls away from you just enough to remove the shirt from his body, and then he grabs your hands and places them on his chest.

“I’d like it if you would touch me as well,” His request comes out confident, almost like a demand. Almost everything he says causes more and more heat to flood your body and your lower stomach.

Your shy hands trace over the whole expanse of his chest, rubbing, squeezing, light scratching. Your eyes stay on his face, drinking in every reaction. The way he opens his mouth and lets out a breathy gasp, how his eye closes, and head goes back when you scratch lightly over his pectoral muscles.

With a sudden surge of confidence, you slowly move closer and place a light kiss on his neck. A quiet groan leaves his mouth in response, and you take it as encouragement to continue. A hand moves to your head, lightly holding the back of your neck in place as you suck and bite as he did to you.

You don’t register that he’s been moving you backwards until your knees hit the bed, causing you to gasp and pull away.

Both his hands are back on your face as he slowly lowers you so you’re lying flat, you go to question him when he doesn’t join you, but to your confusion he moves to his knees between your legs.

“What are you-“ The question dies on your tongue when you feel his hands move up your thighs and close to your core.

This is definitely not normal. You’ve never heard of this being part of any bedding. In a panic your hands rush to his face as it gets closer to your core, “What are you doing?”

His eye finds yours and studies your face before smirking, “Just lay back and let me make you feel good, wife.”

Before you can respond you feel his tongue on you, no- in you.

“Oh, gods.”

It’s really unlike anything you’ve ever felt, it’s nearly overwhelming. All you can feel is him. His hands on your inner thighs holding you open for him, his fingers gripping so hard they’re surely leaving bruises, his tongue, gods his tongue.

A finger lightly traces at your entrance, teasingly. The finger makes its way inside you as he sucks on your clit.

“Aemond,” He pulls away at his name leaving your mouth, eye finding you with your head back and hands clutching the bedding at your sides so tightly your knuckles are turning white.

His free hand reaches for one of your own, intertwining your fingers, eye not leaving your face as he adds another inside you, scissoring the two of them lightly while his thumb rubs circles on your clit.

“Do you feel good?” His tone is slightly cocky, but when your eyes look at his face, you see he looks slightly shy.

Before you can respond, his fingers curl inside you and you’re eyes are squeezing shut as a sharp whine leaves your mouth. He hums thoughtfully at your reaction before doing the same thing again, again, again until.

“Oh, please, please, please,” Your nails are digging into his skin, so hard it may be drawing blood, and your thighs begin shaking by his head when his mouth finds your clit again. His fingers don’t falter inside you until your voice pitches up due to the overstimulation.

You finally open your eyes and watch as he sticks the two fingers that had just been inside you into his mouth before looking at you with a smirk as he leans his head back down to lick from the bottom of your cunt back up to your clit.

Wheezing, your thighs move to close themselves as both your hands reach for his head to push him away from you.

Aemond lets out a laugh as he pulls away from your cunt and crawls up your body. Big arms cage you in as he looks at you with something akin to adoration.

“You taste so good,” He says it in such an attractive manner, you’ve never though any words like that would sound so good coming from someone’s mouth. “Would you like to try it?”

You flush at his words, embarrassment filling you before you nod shyly. His smirk deepens as he presses his mouth to yours.

You moan at the feeling of his mouth back on your own, gasping when his hands places itself on your breasts and tweaks with your nipples, and Aemond takes the opportunity to shove his tongue in your mouth when you do.

The taste is slightly sweet, slightly bitter. Tangy, would be a better word, maybe like a Dornish wine or an orange. His cock is straining in his pants as he presses himself up against your cunt, the size takes you by surprise. It feels large, much bigger than his fingers and much too big to fit inside you, but between the feeling of his hands on your breasts, the heat coming off of his bare chest where your hands dig into his shoulders, and the taste of yourself on his mouth as his tongue maps out the inside of your mouth.

A surge of boldness fills you and you remove a hand from one of his shoulders and reach between the two of you, grabbing lightly and unsurely at his cock. The action causes him to pull away from you as a surprised moan leaves his mouth.

There’s a fire in his eye as he looks at you, watching you as you look up with him with uncertain yet shining eyes at everything you’re feeling for the very first time. At his hands no less.

A smirk crawls it’s way back on it’s face, “Do you want to make me feel good, little wife?”

“Yes,” Your answer causes him to let out a pleased hum, but to your confusion he pulls your hand away from his cock.

“Next time I’ll teach you how to please me the way I did you. I don’t want to overwhelm you this time,” His eye holds tenderness as he says the sweet words that light your body on fire.

“This is not how I expected tonight to go,” Your shy words cause a sympathetic smile to show on his features.

“Many husbands don’t care for their wife’s pleasure,” His hands are untying the laces on his pants as he moves up from the bed to strip himself of them. Pride fills him when your eyes widen at the site of his cock.

It’s long and thick, it sits hard and proud up against his stomach, almost hitting his naval. It’s as pale as the rest of him, slightly red at the tip. A bead of precum drips from the tip and down his shaft, your eyes follow it to his balls. There also big, no surprise. The hair so pale that if there is any, you can’t see it. They look heavy, almost uncomfortable.

“Does it hurt?” The question spills out of your mouth, and Aemond wants to laugh until he sees how serious you are.

“No, it’s just uncomfortable,” You’re wide eyes find his face again, another question that almost makes him laugh.

“Will it fit inside me?” You really don’t think it will, or if it does, it’ll be in your stomach. The though makes you nervous.

“We’ll go slow, if you’d like,” He crawls back on top of you, hands finding your thighs so he can fit his body in between them.

His cock is hot against the skin of your thigh, the tip lightly brushes your folds causing you to shiver. His hand grabs at the base of his cock, guiding the tip from your clit to your hole, then back up. Little gasps leave you every time it bumps against your clit or catches on your tight hole.

Aemond holds a lot of restraint, but he can only hold so much, “I’m going to put it in now,”

He looks to you for you to consent, but tenses when your hands shyly reach up at the leather straps of the patch covering his eye.

“Can you take this off?” Your eyes hold no fear, just slight uncertainty.

His face doesn’t change at all, “I’d rather not scare you-“

“I am bare before you, as your wife. You could be bare for me as my husband, as well.” You’re voice doesn’t shake at all, for the first time all evening, he notes.

With a sigh, he takes his hand from your thigh and closes his eye as he takes the patch off. He doesn’t want to see your inevitable reaction of fear or disgust before you turn over and have him take you from behind.

Aemond flinches when he feels your hand tracing his scar, from his forehead, over the sapphire in place of where his eye should be, down to where it ends.

He hears you take in a shaky breath before your mouth is diving up towards his, and for the first time all evening you’ve taken control of something. He enjoys it, the way your tongue forces its way into his mouth.

He kisses you back with the same amount of energy, sucking on your tongue and nipping at your lips until you pull away. His eye studies you, the lust filled look in your eyes and flush covering you with swollen, wet lips.

“You may take me now, Aemond,” The words are but a whisper, but he hears you clearly.

His cock is, now, painfully hard as he nods and tightens his grip so he can carefully guide himself inside you.

He hisses though his teeth at the feeling of your cunt, slick and warm and tight, enveloping his cock. You’re the tightest thing he’s ever felt.

An animalistic feeling nearly overcomes him. He feels a primal need to shove his cock all the way inside you, rip through your maidenhead and fuck you full of him. He want to see your blood on his cock as he thrust inside you, fill you full of him, fuck you so hard there’s no questioning if his seed took tonight.

The feeling is slightly different for you. The stretch is uncomfortable, and it stings slightly, it causes you to feel so full you may burst or overfill. He goes slow, like he promised, but you can feel his body shaking above you as he restrains himself from taking you like an animal.

When he reaches the barrier of your maidenhead, he halts, “I have to push a little harder, here,”

A flash of fear flashes through your eyes for a brief moment before you nod for him to continue.

With a shaky exhale, he pulls back slightly and then pushes forward sharply, a little too sharply. Because the next thing he knows you’ve got tears streaming down your face and his pelvis is flush with yours. It’s hot and so, so tight. It, you, feel so fucking good.

His mouth is hanging open slightly as he breathes heavily, trying to gain control over himself. When he looks down at you, he feels guilt coarse through him.

“Oh, fuck, I’m so sorry,” You take not that while his voice doesn’t sound sorry, his eye shows that he is. Hands reach for your cheeks so he can wipe the tears that have been falling from your eyes away.

You remove an arm from around his shoulder and move your hand to grip at a wrist that is by your face, “It’s okay-“

His voice is strained, “Oh, fuck, it’s not. I told you we would go slow,”

His eye holds guilt, but you can’t help but notice how beautiful he looks above you. No eye patch covering his features, his hair, though still pulled back, slightly messy, sharp facial features gleaming in the moonlight and the light from the fire.

He thinks you look unreal. Hair, still slightly curled, sits around you beautifully, eyes are gleaming with stars in the despite the tears from the pain still lingering, lips bruised and swollen from his own mouth.

“You can move now,” He looks unsure at your words and goes to speak his protests, but you interrupt. “Take me, husband.”

He obliges to your demand, pulling his hips back before pushing them forward. He goes slow at first, in and out at a steady rhythm, relishing in the moans and gasps and whines that leave your mouth, the chants of his name Aemond, Aemond, Aemond.

He dips his head to kiss your cheeks, down your jaw and latches onto your neck, sucking bruises into your skin as he starts thrusting deeper, harder. His pelvis grinds against your clit, and between that sensation, the pace of his thrusts when his cock hits the same spot his fingers found earlier and up to your cervix, his mouth on your neck, it doesn’t take long for your cunt to start clenching on his cock harder.

A deep groan leaves him at the way your cunt grips his cock, sucking him in and trying to keep him there forever. He would gladly stay inside you forever.

He pulls away from your neck to look at you, wanting to look at your face as you cum around his cock, as you feel his cum inside you.

Your eyes are rolled back so far he can only see the whites of them, bruises litter your collarbones and neck, marks of him all over you. Your nipples are hard and brush against his chest as your back arches while you lose yourself in the pleasure.

His balls tighten up more the longer he looks at you, and he moves his thumb to your clit, pushing you over the edge after one, two, three circles over it.

“Aemond!” Your voice sounds heavenly when you moan his name. His hips don’t falter their pace nor does his thumb stop rubbing until your cunt has loosened its vice grip on his cock. He fucks you through your orgasm and through the aftershocks before he grabs one of your legs.

You’re still shaking from your orgasm when you feel him lift your leg up and over his arm and onto his shoulder before he’s leaning over you. Your eyes shoot open at the newer, deeper angle.

“I don’t think-“

Before the sentence can leave your mouth, his hips pick up a pace very unlike the one you had just grown accustomed to. Your eyes cross as your hands shot up to his shoulders, trying to push him away and stop the overstimulation.

His head is thrown back in deep pleasure, groans and low moans of your name leaving his mouth as he listens to the wet slap, slap, slap of his body meeting yours. His pace picks up and becomes less rhythmic as his orgasm hits him.

You cry out his name with tears running down your face as your cunt clenches down for a third time, squeezing him so tightly that all he can do is push all the way in and let his cum flood you. His hips lightly move back and forth, fucking himself and you through your orgasms as you feel his cum fill you so much it starts slipping out around his cock and down your ass.              

He stays inside you as your shake in the aftermath, feeling sweaty and sticky as he presses his cheek against your own, breathing you in and just feeling you for a while before he finally pull back just enough to look at you. Bodies still pressed together, cunt still plugged with his cock to hold his cum in, to make sure it takes. To make sure his son is filling you.

His eye is holding yours in a stare, and a soft smile takes over his face as you smile up at him tiredly. He feels something warm ignite in his chest as you look at him, the glow of the orgasm, the smile on your face, a sparkle in your eyes that looks like stars.

Aemond presses his mouth to yours before you can say anything. He wonders to himself if he can light your world up the way you’re already doing his.

𝐖𝐎𝐋𝐅𝐒𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃, 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃.

⠀ཾ༵ 𑁍┆ cregan stark x fem!targtower!reader.

SYNOPSIS: as the youngest daughter of alicent hightower, you are wed to the young wolf, cregan stark. what many believe to be a union of strife, such a notion is proven wrong very quickly.

anonymous request.

{ FORMAT: one-shot — requested by anon.

{ WORD COUNT: 6.7K.

{ WARNINGS: SMUT (mdni), arranged marriage, reader is a targtower with pale hair & lilac eyes, skin color unspecified, first time sex (for reader), loss of virginity, p in v sex (unprotected), massive breeding kink, all stark men have a breeding gene, oral sex / cunnilingus (fem!rec), face-sitting, biting/marking, making out, lots of touching, missionary position, talk of having a child, soft ending + aftercare

{ AUTHOR’S NOTE: There’s been a ton of Cregan requests, so I hope that this satisfies a lot of people until I post another! ❤️ Thank you all so much for the incredible requests and support of my work, it means the world to me and I am extremely grateful for all of it. See you guys soon!

𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧, 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐥𝐟 — 𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐞, 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐜𝐞.

The North was often regarded as a harsh and unyielding environment, with bitter, stinging winds and snowfalls that could bury men alive beneath their might. Such tales were often told to scare children or dissuade them from leaving the roost.

It was untamed and savage, according to your mother — she who vehemently fought against your betrothal to Cregan Stark, the Warden of the North and Lord of Winterfell. A marriage steeped in wariness and discord, you had been pleasantly surprised by your husband’s kindness and warm stoicism.

Piety was a rarity in the bleak, bloodsoaked world you lived within — innocence was a quality as uncommon as a diamond in the rough. When Cregan had been offered such a sacred proposal during the last days of King Viserys I, he nearly scoffed at it.

A Targaryen, a Hightower — he almost imagined that the both of you would not do well together, and that it would become a sour union, made only to please families and uphold duty. His advisors, old men with embittered grudges against the South, cautioned him away from it, imploring him to wed a girl from the Vale or the Reach.

When Cregan Stark met you, clad in pale shades of sage and ivory, with lilac hues and a smile that could melt even the toughest of ice, perhaps it would not be a dreadful marriage after all.

Even with a dragon at your heel, there was something positively resplendent about you — Cregan could feel it within his marrow, a feeling seldom felt by any man locked in an arranged betrothal.

It was your innocuous, tenderhearted nature that beguiled him, as if you unconsciously drew him in with your honey. Your very first meeting happened to be to seal the marriage pact itself before you would be shipped away to the North, to be his wife and the new Lady Stark.

Cregan rarely found himself charmed by anyone, yet you possessed an inner beauty that flourished in his presence. You were your own flame, burning through his hardened exterior. He did not mistake your docile nature for weakness — you possessed a dragon, where he did not.

You were rather taken with him, perplexed by his outward ruggedness and gruff accent, the way in which he carried himself, massive physique clad in the thick trappings of a wolf. He was a mountain of a man, yet he handled you as if you were some precious jewel, sacred and worthy of admiration.

Alicent begrudgingly watched as you, her youngest daughter, untainted by her own fractured morality, was sent away to the North in the hands of some brute. For the good of the Realm, Viserys had told her, but it cut deeper knowing that it was you, her beloved flesh and blood.

Yet, as you found yourself beneath the crimson leaves of the Weirwood Tree in the Godswood, hands bound with Cregan’s own, you forgot about your mother’s bitterness entirely — and you were happy.

The first kiss was one that would make a permanent residence within your memory for lifetimes to come. He had cradled your face, towering over you as if he were a solemn statue, but even you could see the softening within his visage.

King’s Landing was suffocating, more often than not. The animosity that festered between your family smothered you, crushing you beneath its sharp heel. You were no longer surrounded by bitterness and resentment, and instead, cloaked by the protection and warmth of your new husband.

The feast held in honor of your blossoming union was one of merriment, the mood lighthearted and blissful. You sat beside your husband, stomach tumbling with a coil of nerves. Everyone seemed foreign to you, unfamiliar faces with their northern attitudes and odd indifference.

You could not fault anyone for having their suspicions, given your heritage. Being a Targaryen, pale-headed and violet-eyed, bringing your dragon from the South — it must’ve been jarring. Growing into your station as the Lady of Winterfell would be a long and arduous process, but you hoped that Cregan would show you the way.

Oblivious to your Lord-Husband’s smoldering stare, you politely consumed bites of the sugar-dusted fruit cobbler, admiring the vibrant aura within the room. Your wedding gowns were as pure as the driven snow, accented with silver embroidery and lined with pale fleece to keep you warm, given the cold gnaw of winter.

If it weren’t for Cregan’s steadfastness in providing you with a new wardrobe fit for winter, the icy chill would’ve consumed your extremities from the inside-out.

Leaning over within his seat, Cregan reached for your hand, stormy-gray hues churning with a kindness reserved for you. “How are you faring, wife?” He inquired, voice a low rumble; a soothing timbre that sent shivers down your spine.

“Very well,” Warmth crawled along your flesh when he referred to you as wife so openly and affectionately. You weren’t accustomed to having someone be so attentive to you, hang upon your every word, treat you with such courteousness. “This is so wonderful. I must thank you and your Keep, for your kindness.”

If you were anyone else, Cregan might’ve treated you with a stalwart cordiality found in most formalities, but you were not anyone else. You were good, sweet, and kindhearted — above all, you were quite innocent. He would’ve been telling himself a bold lie if he hadn’t thought about taking you to bed several times already.

The colors of the North suited you — his home suited you. Not many men of his position were so lucky when it came to betrothals, but he felt as if he was beyond fortunate to have married you. Cregan only hoped to be a good husband to you and to your future children, heirs to Winterfell, with the blood of the dragon and the wolf in their veins.

He had forbidden a bedding ceremony, content to guide you to your chambers once the festivities ceased, instead. Cregan enjoyed observing you and your demure mannerisms, from the way you made small talk with those around you, complimenting the choice of food and drink. It warmed his heart to know that his wife was an amiable soul.

“You needn’t worry, Princess. It is my duty as your husband to show you a bit of Northern hospitality.” Cregan mused, a ghost of a smile tugging at either corner of his mouth. He rarely showed any emotion, let alone treating his subjects with a smile given his hardiness, but he did show a sliver of it for you. He didn’t want to scare you away.

With a delighted smile, your hand shyly curled around his, your skin unblemished and soft. Cregan hadn’t touched a woman as silky as you, and it made his blood run hot — an inopportune time, given that it was in the midst of his wedding feast. “Thank you, my Lord.” You weren’t sure if you were permitted to abandon formalities just yet.

Cregan huffed, gaze twinkling with amusement as he let your smaller hand hold his own, digits tenderly caressing over your knuckles. “I would hope that you only call me ‘my Lord’ if you’re angry with me,” His chest rumbled with an affectionate sound. “You aren’t in King’s Landing anymore.”

Embarrassment rippled through you, but before you could correct yourself out of anxiousness, Cregan gingerly squeezed your hand. Instead, it evoked a smile from you, the very same tender expression you’d given him when you were proclaimed as his wife. “I will call you husband when I am pleased with you.” You mused, bright as could be, and so blissfully naive.

Often regarded as a brooding, serious man with little traces of humor, Cregan found himself letting his guard down just enough with you. Of course, to any observer, he still seemed rather stoic, but the brief, fleeting looks he gave you, the threadbare smiles — it suggested otherwise.

As the excitable buzz of the feast began to simmer, Cregan stood from the table, wood scraping across the stone floors of the Great Hall. He stepped away from you, sparing the servants and guardsmen a word before he returned to your side.

“Is there not to be a bedding ceremony?” You whispered, stomach still tight and festering with nervousness. It was something you feared since you last saw Aegon and Helaena be hauled away for such a thing. The concept of it frightened you, twisted and unusual.

With furrowed brows, Cregan shook his head, offering his thick arm out for you to take. “No,” He grunted, noticing the swell of anxiousness etched into your features. “I would never subject you to such a thing, or myself.” He murmured, feeling you take his arm as he led you from the Great Hall.

Relief flooded through you, and you finally relaxed, seemingly appreciative of Cregan’s thoughtfulness in the matter. “Thank you, husband.” You sighed, gripping onto his arm as he led you into a warm corridor and towards a massive spiral of thick, stone steps.

Though, you still had a duty to perform — consummating the marriage, creating an heir. Part of you feared what it all entailed, given that Helaena never seemed pleased with any of it. Would he hurt you? You were uncertain, but you wanted to believe that your new husband would keep you safe.

Cregan welcomed you into your marital chambers, tidied and polished for your stay. Whatever belongings you brought with you, they were situated near a set of fine, wooden chairs circled around a stone table. Everything seemed warm and comely in his quarters, the direwolf aesthetic heavy-handed, the hearth crackling and bursting with ripples of fire.

“If there is something not to your liking, inform me — I will have it rearranged,” Cregan rumbled, following in your footsteps as you neared the open hearth, warming your hands and basking in its glow. He stood close to you, towering over you with his bulk and might. “How are you?” He asked, ensuring your comfort above all else.

There was little need for the hearth when Cregan was near, radiating a natural heat that drew you in. His countenance seemed softer, not nearly as impassive as he’d been before. “I am more than fine, I promise.” You assured him, hands wringing together. “I thought that I would miss home, but I do not. Isn’t that terrible?”

Perplexed, Cregan seemed inclined to listen to your elaboration, chestnut tresses framing his face. “It isn’t a terrible thing, princess. I would imagine that it must be freeing, to be somewhere else. You’ve never left the capital.” He replied, knowing that you were quite sheltered for most of your life.

A soft sigh escaped you, and you tried not to think about it anymore. You didn’t want to sour the mood with talk of home and the past — this was now. “It is liberating,” You confessed, craning to look at him with a semblance of wonder and affection. “I am happy that I’m here with you.” You spoke with genuineness and finality.

It was pleasing to hear you say such a thing, and even better to know that you truly meant it. One thick, burly arm slowly encircled your hips, bringing you into the warm expanse of his chest. “Good,” He murmured, expression steely. “That pleases me greatly.”

To know that Cregan valued your happiness was a wonderful feeling — you felt cared for and seen, shrouded within his protectiveness. You imagined that it would be a blissful marriage. “Thank you, Cregan.” His name slipped from your perfect tongue, and he thoroughly enjoyed the sound it made.

A low rumble vibrated through Cregan’s chest as he drew you as close as he could, tracing his calloused digits along the soft curve of your jaw. “You are very beautiful,” He murmured, timbre edged with a delicious husk that made your knees buckle. You shivered, something that he took note of. “Are you cold, wife?”

You nodded, sucking in a sharp breath when his lips neared yours. “I am.” A squeak escaped you, followed by a steady exhale. You had been kissed before, but the extent of your experience abruptly stopped there. You imagined that you wouldn’t be cold for much longer.

His lips met yours, the kiss tender yet passionate, deepened by your husband. Cregan found your mouth to be most pleasant, pliant and perfectly soft, yet malleable. You reciprocated his kiss, hands moving to press against his chest.

“Will it be painful?” You whispered, likely in an attempt to soothe your gnawing nervousness. Agony was something that didn’t coexist with pleasure, in your mind. You wanted this moment to be special and sacred, binding yourself to your husband.

Cregan hesitated, gently cupping your face with his rough palm, tenderly stroking along your cheek. “I wouldn’t dare harm you, princess. You have my word.” He assured, and it confirmed his suspicions — you hadn’t been with another before. “It might be painful, but I will be gentle. We don’t have to start tonight.”

Admittedly, it was quite the opposite for you — you wanted to start tonight, but you longed for clarification first, and he gave it to you. You shook your head, hands slipping toward the front of his tunic, as if silently pleading with him to stay. “I want to.” You insisted, looking like the picture of innocence.

As much as he liked you sweet and pious, Cregan had a feeling that it would be somewhat different after this. His gray hues swirled with a heavy desire, dropping towards the delicate curve of your mouth. “May I?” It was all that he needed to ask, and as soon as you nodded, he brought you in for a heated kiss.

Despite his appearance, a stone-faced wall of muscle and Northern strength, he was incredibly gentle with you. He held you against him, never tight enough to cause you discomfort, hands softly kneading into your hips. You kissed him back as best as you could, feverishly hot, butterflies erupting within your stomach.

His beautiful wife — Cregan could not imagine another, now that he had you in his arms. The way you kissed him was innocuous and tender, as if you were also terrified of making a mistake. Your purity, a precious thing indeed, would be tarnished and dissolved after this evening.

The thought of you, round and swollen with his child, was both tantalizing and tempting — well within his grasp. Cregan wondered if they would take after you, pale-headed with lilac hues, or perhaps himself. If the Gods were good, they would be a blend of the both of you, a dragon and a wolf.

You shivered again when your burly husband curled his hand into the back of your wedding gown, fingers slipping between the gaps, feeling inklings of your bare skin beneath. “I’ll keep you warm, wife.” He rumbled, pressing a kiss against your jaw. It wasn’t from the cold, he knew this, but his honeyed words made you flustered.

He dropped his cloak, allowing the thick curtain of fur to land against the floor. He was impossibly broad, as thick as stone, tunic loose yet snug enough to accentuate his brawn. You felt your breath hitch within your throat, swallowing another barrage of nerves.

Cregan’s mouth assailed your neck, hand peeling away the collar of pale fur in order to reach you. Every kiss was passionate, wrought with need, yet maintained that air of gentleness. Roughness was in his nature, but he wouldn’t dare fall into that pit on your wedding night.

You tasted ambrosial, sweet velvet beneath his lips, which peppered themselves wherever they could. He listened to your soft gasps and needy whines, your hands having curled into the coarse material of his tunic. He wanted to show you just how perfect you really were.

Suddenly, your gown felt much too tight and constricting, as if you would drown within it. You alleviated such sensations by loosening the bodice, tugging on the ivory strings. The fur became unraveled as Cregan gently draped the garment over the back of a chair.

Left in the thin, humble trappings of your smallclothes, nothing more than a corset hugging a linen slip, he silently appraised you with the hunger of a wolf. You appeared to be shy, somewhat coy in his presence as he looked you over, large palms settling against the swell of your hips.

“Why do you shy away?” Cregan murmured, chestnut brows furrowing together, tone one of genuine concern. You were the prettiest creature he’d ever seen — most Targaryens were known for their beauty, but you possessed it both ways, inner and outer, and that only made you more incomparable in his eyes.

Swallowing your nerves, you chewed at the inside of your cheek, hands fidgeting together. “I suppose I worry about what you’ll think,” A sore insecurity, to be sure, but something most young maidens possessed. Cregan’s gray hues softened, one hand stroking along the length of your spine. “That I won’t be suitable.”

A huff escaped him, a threadbare chuckle as he shook his head, pressing a kiss against your forehead. “You worry too much, princess.” That deep, thunderous timbre of his, husky with his Northern accent, shook you right to your core. “You are my wife — and you are perfect.” He assured, kissing along your jaw.

You exhaled, hands reaching for his tunic, wanting to see him without his clothing. There was a rush of warmth that crawled across your flesh, surging through your blood as Cregan pressed endless kisses against your skin. He trailed from jaw to collarbone, hands loosening your corset.

With a brusque tug, your gruff husband tore it from you altogether, tossing the bodice aside. “I will show you how perfect you are.” He rumbled, voice a low, heavy caress near the shell of your ear. You shivered, gaze half-lidded as you tugged insistently at his tunic.

The message was unspoken, but conveyed nonetheless as your mountain of a husband let his hands drop from you, only to tug the coarse, dark linen over his head. He was burly, broad-shouldered and thick with muscle, wisps of chestnut tresses framing his face.

Amusingly enough, Cregan possessed more of a cherubic, youthful face than you expected, yet his nose was slightly crooked from having it broken, faint scars upon his face. His eyes seemed wisened, old beyond his years. He reached for your slip, gathering the material within his hands as he looked to you for consent.

With your confidence rejuvenated, you nodded, breathless and wanton as you assisted him in maneuvering out of your thin smallclothes. The brief lick of chilled air dragged across your bare flesh, causing your nipples to harden, pebbling with the chill.

Fire danced across your physique, tantalizing and gorgeous, beautiful beyond compare. Even Cregan seemed speechless for a beat, throat reverberating with a low grunt as he motioned toward your shared bed.

You half-expected him to pounce on you, grab your hips and stake his claim, but he simply resorted to watching you slide onto the bed, covered in furs of all varieties. The frame rustled slightly, and you laid down, a picture of true perfection. Your crown of pale tresses seemed to stick out amidst the darker pallor of the furs.

Anticipation churned violently within your gut, arousal slick and mounting between your thighs as Cregan stalked closer, removing clothing in the process. You watched with bated breath as he loosened the ties of his breeches, removing them altogether.

It was to be expected — a man of his indomitable stature likely had the assets to accompany it. You nearly choked at the sight of him, terrified that it really would hurt, even if he was gentle. You sucked in a sharp breath, bewildered when he had reclined beside you instead.

“I won’t bite, my Lady.” Cregan rumbled, soothingly patting his lap as you crawled closer. He effortlessly picked you up, letting you straddle his hips as he admired you from below. “Hm.” With a hum of approval, he caressed along your form, stroking from your thigh to your breasts.

It was agonizingly deliberate, made to explore and study instead of acting upon salacious impulses. Cregan observed you closely, palm gently cupping your breast, thumb swiping over your nipple. You gasped, careening into his sensual embrace.

A flurry of desire bubbled within him when you planted your smaller hand atop his, as if encouraging him to knead and grope at his leisure. He seemed pleased, and so did you, a low hum escaping you as he caressed your silky flesh.

He made sure to show that same amount of attention to your unattended breast, slowly kneading into you. Those tempestuous gray hues never tore themselves away from you, boring into you with a searing intensity.

Warm slick coalesced between your thighs, only mounting and growing when he continued to touch you, hand lifting to cup your chin. You absentmindedly leaned into his touch, eyes becoming half-lidded as you rocked forward within his lap.

The sensations you felt were new and exhilarating, goosebumps dancing across your spine, heat pooling between your legs. “May I touch you?” You asked, tone delicate and sweet, a display of your piety and innocence. He quite enjoyed your desire to explore alongside him, and he gave a nod of his head.

“You don’t need to ask, princess.” He soothed, jaw tensing as your soft palms settled against his chest. Cregan’s stormy eyes didn’t leave you, carefully tracing each plane of your curves, the downy texture of your skin, the lilac glint of your eyes.

Your fingertips dragged across his musculature, committing each scar to memory, features becoming hot beneath his incendiary stare. He was your husband now — you imagined that scenarios like these would become commonplace. “You are so handsome,” You whispered incredulously, lips curling into a gentle smile. “Perfect.”

Cregan appeared perplexed, a soft huff escaping him as he trailed his calloused palm across the small of your back. He couldn’t recall the last time someone had called him perfect and meant it — and he knew that you did. He neglected to act, allowing you to explore as much as you pleased.

Awestruck, he watched with silent hunger as you leaned down, lips pressing against his own. A soft grunt escaped Cregan as he caged you in, mouth passionate as it tangled with yours. He enjoyed the feeling of your body snug atop his, your skin resplendent, like velvet against the grating bite of stone.

Dragging a hand from the swell of your hips to the nape of your neck, he gripped the base of your skull, gingerly kneading into your pale tresses. He kissed you again, oozing with desire as he stole every wisp of air from your lungs.

He pulled one leg up into a v-shape, supporting your back to keep you upright atop his lap. You could feel the thick girth of his cock nudge against your backside, causing you to shiver at the foreign sensation. “Do you trust me?” Cregan murmured, roughened fingertips dragging over the pliant flesh of your thigh.

There was an indiscernible look within his eyes, chestnut brows drawing together slightly. Your breath hitched as you nodded, and Cregan settled against the furs, strewn on his back. Those strong hands of his continued to nudge you forward, bringing you from his warm lap to his chest, and then a touch closer.

“What are you …” Uncertain yet filled with exhilaration, you had no idea what Cregan was planning. Your slick cunt neared his mouth, and your Northern paramour did little to slow the process, bumping you forward until you hovered above him. “C—Cregan, C —” Your voice tapered off into a whine.

His tongue raked hot embers across your cunt, a sensation that immediately made your knees buckle. You used the headboard to brace yourself, mouth tearing open as a strangled gasp escaped you. Part of you feared sitting down entirely, but Cregan coaxed you down, hands digging into your haunches.

Your reaction was beyond worthwhile, body trembling and coiled, hand scrambling to brace yourself as the other fervently dug into his chestnut tresses. You never imagined that such pleasure was even possible, filling you with an excitable ecstasy that sank into your bones.

Splitting past your folds, Cregan tasted every inch of you, tongue seeking your cunt with a fervor. He was vigorous in his ministrations, not shying away from consuming every drop of your arousal. His nose brushed against your mound, hands kneading into your thighs to reassure you, let you know that he had you.

Even when he rested beneath you, he still seemed indomitable, perhaps a touch intimidating. You didn’t look down, body involuntarily trembling and rocking forward, back beginning to arch. “Gods, a—ah!” You stammered, thighs twitching and quivering as his tongue gently flicked over your clit.

Visibly flustered, you felt so strange and smitten, riding your husband’s face as you would your dragon. It filled your belly with a rousing fire, one bright enough to consume the rest of your body, licking along the length of your spine.

A low rumble emerged from Cregan’s chest, a vibration that rattled you to your core. He wanted you to have your fill, take as much as you could and drown within pleasure. Your maidenhead was still intact, a virtue that he did not treat lightly. He didn’t feel the need to breathe, lapping at your cunt with a wolfish gluttony.

You were undeniably soaked, like a fine stout upon his tongue as he devoured you. Cregan was passionate, each stroke of his tongue ensuring that you felt it all, bliss erupting throughout your stomach.

Chasing after what you imagined to be your release, you happened to peer down for a moment, finding the contented face of your husband, whose face was lodged between your legs. His brows were creased in concentration, tongue prodding against your entrance before languidly flicking back to your clit.

It was only when he pursed his lips around that sensitive clutch of nerves, that you nearly collapsed around him. Even your draconic blood could melt, tempered by the hardened ice of your Northern paramour. You gasped, hips stuttering as your thighs squeezed at either side of his head — fortunately, he didn’t seem to care.

The only thing you wanted was this, forever — your husband’s tongue between your legs, a sanctuary in the North with a potential family, a life in which you could finally find your solace. You continued to squirm and writhe, moaning his praises into the warmth of your chambers.

As you approached your peak, you grappled with Cregan’s tresses, tugging at the root as you rocked forward, again and again. “Cregan,” You moaned, countenance contorting into a look of sheer pleasure, bones crawling with an insatiable heat. “Cregan, Cregan, please!” It was a siren’s song of desire.

He did not stop, but he didn’t change course, either. Instead, he simply continued on, suckling at your clit as he intermingled it with timed laps of his tongue. Your release slammed into you, white-hot and blistering, gnawing away at your stomach as that coil of heat effectively snapped.

A whine emerged from you, one that was nearly breathless as you rocked forward again, legs shaking from ecstasy as you rode out your peak. Cregan, ever the dutiful husband, lapped at your nectar, savoring the taste, the scent of a pleasurable aftermath.

“What —” You had to catch your breath again, attempting to recuperate as you sat back on his chest instead, thick, burly muscle plentiful enough to cushion you. “Where did you learn how to do that?” It was an innocuous question, one so sweetly-spoken that it nearly caused Cregan to chuckle.

He did, however, smile — a rare, sentimental gesture reserved only for you. It was threadbare, and if it weren’t for the nature of your relationship, one might’ve thought him to be rugged and indifferent. “You need only ask, princess, and I will oblige.” His voice was a deep rumble that warmed your insides.

You thoroughly enjoyed the nickname of princess — a term of endearment given your status, but you were a princess no longer. “I am a lady of the North now, aren’t I? A princess no longer,” You proclaimed, skin shimmering with perspiration. “What will you call me, now?” You asked.

“Hm,” Cregan contemplated, pressing a kiss against your leg before he sat up enough to have a good look at you, chin still glistening with your slick. The sight was lewd, enough to make you unbelievably flustered as he grew closer, nearly chest-to-chest with you. “Lady Stark would suffice.” He murmured.

Something amorous burned within you, a smolder that soon turned to ignited sparks. “It would please me greatly.” You hummed, running your hands over his biceps before Cregan gently changed places with you, moving you beneath his bulk, comfortable upon your back.

Soft was a mere understatement — he could feel himself melt. It was not your dragon’s blood or heat that made him crumble, but your heart. He could imagine you as the mother of his children, belly round with his heirs, the Lady of Winterfell, a Hightower no longer.

He settled between your legs, and you gasped when his cock gently glided against your slick core. Cregan knew to temper himself, to be as gentle as he could with it being your wedding night, but his resolve was steadily diminished in your presence. He steeled himself, pressing a string of kisses along your body.

Without thinking, you unconsciously goaded Cregan into a point of near-frenzy. Your hands found the taut, trunk-like muscle of his biceps, visage filled with a sense of awe and adoration. “A child would please me greatly.” You confessed, having no clue what it would do to your husband.

Cregan stopped, digits curling into the thick furs on either side of your head. It took every fiber of his being not to fuck you then and there — and he wouldn’t, it wasn’t right for him to take your maidenhead with such roughness. His fantasy became reality, a visceral, beautiful vision that made him grunt, jaw unnaturally tense.

His rough palm soothingly stroked along your thigh, lust swelling within him like a blizzard, a violent storm of need that transcended all bonds of propriety. “Does Lady Stark want me to put a pup in her belly?” Cregan rumbled, tempestuous hues ignited with a fire that demanded to be extinguished, sending shockwaves right to your core.

You swallowed the growing lump within your throat, shuddering at the sound of his voice — an edged husk, like the rumbling of thunder before a deluge or the shaking of a mountain. “Yes,” You exhaled, searching his countenance, only to find desire. “I would.”

The Gods were testing him, aiming to see if he would break beneath the pressure, but he refused. Cregan lowered himself over you, lips molding themselves against yours in a hot kiss. Your hands remained poised atop his biceps, barely able to wrap themselves around the thick, corded muscle.

He wasn’t much of a talker, and it quickly dwindled into deep grunts and heavier sighs as he aligned his cock with your entrance. He made sure to part your legs, keeping them spread as he began to push inside of you. The sudden intrusion made you gasp, startled at the twinge of pain, the discomfort of it all.

Cregan despised the mere thought of causing you harm, and even he was willing to end it all then and there. “We don’t have to continue, beloved.” He rumbled, pressing a soothing string of kisses along your face. The endearing nickname made you preen, nails digging into his arms.

“No, I — I’m well enough,” You breathed, insistent on continuing. Cregan deliberated, but when you let out a low whine, he obeyed your command. “Gods, I need you, Cregan.” Pitched with a wanton resonance, you urged him to keep going.

Your neediness made his blood run hot, and he nodded, sluggishly resuming his pace. He continued to tilt his hips forward, cock feeding into you, inch by agonizing inch. Cregan felt the desperate bite of your nails clutching into muscle, leaving behind angry crescents.

You were never fully warned of the pain, the discomfort that accompanied pleasure. It was always sold as some fantasy, particularly for men — nights of heavenly passion resulting in bliss. For you, it was simply a marital duty to provide your husband with an heir, but this transcended that. Passion and affection sparked between the both of you, and it felt right.

As Cregan finally bottomed out inside of you, he allowed you time to fully adjust, rocking into you at a lackadaisical pace. He continued to shower you in kisses, wherever his lips could reach, giving particular affection to the crook of your neck.

Whatever discontent you felt, you hastily pushed it aside, tossing it into the recesses of your mind. Instead, you focused on him — on how incredible he made you feel, the warmth you experienced in his presence. One of your hands slipped to thread within his chestnut tresses, mouth agape.

You took him so well — better than expected, and it filled him with a sense of pride and ardor. Cregan pressed hungry kisses along your throat, nose buried into the hollow of it, right beneath your jugular. He continued to go slow, afraid of causing you further pain.

Cregan repositioned his hand, leaving one lodged beside your head, the other sinking into your haunch, digits tenderly kneading into your thigh. It was an offer of reassurance, and he watched your countenance shift from discontented to relaxed.

“Move,” The sharpness of your command brought him to heel, and he very nearly smiled — it was there, the ghost of it toying at his lips. Bringing his hips back and then forward, you moaned, knowing that the sting of pain would soon blossom into pleasure. “Please.”

Molten heat swirled within the pit of your stomach, arousal thick between your legs as Cregan began to find his pace, a rhythm that shook you to your core. He was so very gentle, even for a man of his herculean mass and muscle. He took care of you, soothingly caressing your thigh as he thrusted into you.

His cock filled you completely, a stretch that would take you more than just one night to adjust to. Your maidenhead was gone, your cunt tight around his length, pulling him in again and again.

Cregan’s breathing became heavier, somewhat labored as he consummated your union. Each snap of his hips held meaning, beyond the creation of an heir. It was tenuous with feelings, a burning sentiment he felt for you, ardor that had grown into a fire.

Admittedly, his mind was hazy, fueled by desire and the mere thought of you wanting a child — you had asked it of him, demanded, and he was at your mercy. Cregan couldn’t have gotten any luckier with you, the most resplendent woman he’d ever seen.

Imagining you full and round, still as lovely as the day he set his eyes upon you, a mother and a dragon — it was nothing short of true perfection. He chased after it, evident by the growing vigor and passion in each thrust of his hips, cock nearly tearing you into two.

No matter how gentle and careful Cregan was with you, it was to no avail, but you no longer cared. “Cregan,” You moaned, lifting one leg to hitch it around his waist, and that only seemed to further spur him on, allowing him to hit new depths. His throbbing length nearly kissed your womb, filling you to the brim. “Cregan!” You cried.

For a moment, you feared being split in-half by your mountain of a husband, but he slowed enough to let you recuperate, throat reverberating with carnal grunts. The rumbling of his chest, the heat that radiated from him in waves — it was all perfect.

It was driving him mad, the way your cunt constricted around his cock, the way in which your back arched from the furs, chest brushing against his. Cregan grunted, jaw set and brows furrowed in concentration as he kneaded into your thigh, something to alleviate his tension.

His thrusts deepened, became passionate and invigorated with love, and each snap of his hips made your head spin with delirium. You were drunk on desire, clinging to him as if you were a drowning maiden, hand splayed against his shoulder.

Whenever he happened to become a touch too vigorous, he felt your nails dig deep into his flesh, leaving behind the reddened marks of your consummation. Cregan was getting close, chest erupting with labored pants as he pressed his forehead against yours.

You moaned, body bending beneath his passion, malleable within his hands. His cock throbbed within you as he sought to spill his seed, face against yours, lips occasionally connecting in a series of sloppy, warm kisses. Everything felt incredible, in ways that you couldn’t comprehend.

He was so burly, a thick wall of impenetrable muscle that seemed to envelop you entirely, shield you from everything else, from all harm. Strands of chestnut stuck to his temples, flesh glittering with perspiration from the exertion of lovemaking, coupled with the heat in your chambers.

With another brusque thrust of his hips, he settled inside of you, reaching his peak with a subtle groan. His seed filled your cunt in hot ropes, more than enough to take, if the Gods were good. Cregan exhaled, feverishly hot as he began to recuperate, neglecting to remove himself from you for a few moments.

“Are you alright?” Cregan murmured, ensuring your wellbeing first, above all else. A stinging soreness settled into your thighs and your core, but you would survive. He didn’t completely obliterate you, thankfully — you wondered what he would be like, unrestrained.

“Yes,” You smiled, visibly flustered beneath the intensity of his stare. “That was incredible.” Your confession made him huff, likely one of amusement as he pressed a kiss against your forehead. Even you glittered with sweat, but that was to be expected.

You already wanted more — and you nearly asked it of him.

Lascivious fantasies took root within your mind, and the mere idea of him being rough and completely domineering made your cunt throb. You could not do it now, given how exhausted you were, but he had certainly unlocked a new side to you, a side that you were unfamiliar with.

Cregan pulled himself from you, propping your hips up beneath a feathered pillow to ensure that his seed would take. He rested beside you, drawing you into the bulk of his muscled arms, allowing you to rest your head against the expanse of his chest. “You were perfect.” He rumbled, roughened digits stroking along your spine.

It pleased you to know that your husband was satisfied with you, much to your delight. “I am glad,” Relief rippled through you as you inched closer, perfectly slotted against his frame. “So were you.” Your pleasant accolades made him smile, fracturing his stony exterior.

“There will be plenty of time for this, that I can promise you,” Cregan was more concerned with getting to know you, his beautiful lady-wife, Lady Stark. “I would like to start with you.” He murmured, savoring the sensation of your fingers tracing across his abdomen.

You blinked, seemingly surprised by Cregan’s genuine interest in you. It made you happy — perhaps you could have both. Moments of learning and moments like these, where you could indulge in pleasure.

“Would it offend you if I asked you to do both?” You questioned, warmth crawling along your body as Cregan squeezed the swell of your hip, gray hues sparkling with a semblance of mirth.

“It wouldn’t,” Cregan mused, timbre dropping to a lull, a husky octave that seemed to envelop you in its stoicism and warmth. “It pleases me to know that Lady Stark possesses the appetite of a dragon.” His teasing made you squirm, but he simply caressed you and held you closer.

With a coy smile, you lifted your head, pressing your lips against his, asserting your still-lingering desire for your husband. “Not a dragon,” Your tone softened with a sweeter resonance. “A wolf.”

copyright @ swordgrace ; please do not steal my work and claim it as your own or translate it onto other platforms.

𝐖𝐎𝐋𝐅𝐒𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃, 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃.

⠀ཾ༵ 𑁍┆ cregan stark x fem!targtower!reader.

SYNOPSIS: as the youngest daughter of alicent hightower, you are wed to the young wolf, cregan stark. what many believe to be a union of strife, such a notion is proven wrong very quickly.

anonymous request.

{ FORMAT: one-shot — requested by anon.

{ WORD COUNT: 6.7K.

{ WARNINGS: SMUT (mdni), arranged marriage, reader is a targtower with pale hair & lilac eyes, skin color unspecified, first time sex (for reader), loss of virginity, p in v sex (unprotected), massive breeding kink, all stark men have a breeding gene, oral sex / cunnilingus (fem!rec), face-sitting, biting/marking, making out, lots of touching, missionary position, talk of having a child, soft ending + aftercare

{ AUTHOR’S NOTE: There’s been a ton of Cregan requests, so I hope that this satisfies a lot of people until I post another! ❤️ Thank you all so much for the incredible requests and support of my work, it means the world to me and I am extremely grateful for all of it. See you guys soon!

𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧, 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐥𝐟 — 𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐞, 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐜𝐞.

The North was often regarded as a harsh and unyielding environment, with bitter, stinging winds and snowfalls that could bury men alive beneath their might. Such tales were often told to scare children or dissuade them from leaving the roost.

It was untamed and savage, according to your mother — she who vehemently fought against your betrothal to Cregan Stark, the Warden of the North and Lord of Winterfell. A marriage steeped in wariness and discord, you had been pleasantly surprised by your husband’s kindness and warm stoicism.

Piety was a rarity in the bleak, bloodsoaked world you lived within — innocence was a quality as uncommon as a diamond in the rough. When Cregan had been offered such a sacred proposal during the last days of King Viserys I, he nearly scoffed at it.

A Targaryen, a Hightower — he almost imagined that the both of you would not do well together, and that it would become a sour union, made only to please families and uphold duty. His advisors, old men with embittered grudges against the South, cautioned him away from it, imploring him to wed a girl from the Vale or the Reach.

When Cregan Stark met you, clad in pale shades of sage and ivory, with lilac hues and a smile that could melt even the toughest of ice, perhaps it would not be a dreadful marriage after all.

Even with a dragon at your heel, there was something positively resplendent about you — Cregan could feel it within his marrow, a feeling seldom felt by any man locked in an arranged betrothal.

It was your innocuous, tenderhearted nature that beguiled him, as if you unconsciously drew him in with your honey. Your very first meeting happened to be to seal the marriage pact itself before you would be shipped away to the North, to be his wife and the new Lady Stark.

Cregan rarely found himself charmed by anyone, yet you possessed an inner beauty that flourished in his presence. You were your own flame, burning through his hardened exterior. He did not mistake your docile nature for weakness — you possessed a dragon, where he did not.

You were rather taken with him, perplexed by his outward ruggedness and gruff accent, the way in which he carried himself, massive physique clad in the thick trappings of a wolf. He was a mountain of a man, yet he handled you as if you were some precious jewel, sacred and worthy of admiration.

Alicent begrudgingly watched as you, her youngest daughter, untainted by her own fractured morality, was sent away to the North in the hands of some brute. For the good of the Realm, Viserys had told her, but it cut deeper knowing that it was you, her beloved flesh and blood.

Yet, as you found yourself beneath the crimson leaves of the Weirwood Tree in the Godswood, hands bound with Cregan’s own, you forgot about your mother’s bitterness entirely — and you were happy.

The first kiss was one that would make a permanent residence within your memory for lifetimes to come. He had cradled your face, towering over you as if he were a solemn statue, but even you could see the softening within his visage.

King’s Landing was suffocating, more often than not. The animosity that festered between your family smothered you, crushing you beneath its sharp heel. You were no longer surrounded by bitterness and resentment, and instead, cloaked by the protection and warmth of your new husband.

The feast held in honor of your blossoming union was one of merriment, the mood lighthearted and blissful. You sat beside your husband, stomach tumbling with a coil of nerves. Everyone seemed foreign to you, unfamiliar faces with their northern attitudes and odd indifference.

You could not fault anyone for having their suspicions, given your heritage. Being a Targaryen, pale-headed and violet-eyed, bringing your dragon from the South — it must’ve been jarring. Growing into your station as the Lady of Winterfell would be a long and arduous process, but you hoped that Cregan would show you the way.

Oblivious to your Lord-Husband’s smoldering stare, you politely consumed bites of the sugar-dusted fruit cobbler, admiring the vibrant aura within the room. Your wedding gowns were as pure as the driven snow, accented with silver embroidery and lined with pale fleece to keep you warm, given the cold gnaw of winter.

If it weren’t for Cregan’s steadfastness in providing you with a new wardrobe fit for winter, the icy chill would’ve consumed your extremities from the inside-out.

Leaning over within his seat, Cregan reached for your hand, stormy-gray hues churning with a kindness reserved for you. “How are you faring, wife?” He inquired, voice a low rumble; a soothing timbre that sent shivers down your spine.

“Very well,” Warmth crawled along your flesh when he referred to you as wife so openly and affectionately. You weren’t accustomed to having someone be so attentive to you, hang upon your every word, treat you with such courteousness. “This is so wonderful. I must thank you and your Keep, for your kindness.”

If you were anyone else, Cregan might’ve treated you with a stalwart cordiality found in most formalities, but you were not anyone else. You were good, sweet, and kindhearted — above all, you were quite innocent. He would’ve been telling himself a bold lie if he hadn’t thought about taking you to bed several times already.

The colors of the North suited you — his home suited you. Not many men of his position were so lucky when it came to betrothals, but he felt as if he was beyond fortunate to have married you. Cregan only hoped to be a good husband to you and to your future children, heirs to Winterfell, with the blood of the dragon and the wolf in their veins.

He had forbidden a bedding ceremony, content to guide you to your chambers once the festivities ceased, instead. Cregan enjoyed observing you and your demure mannerisms, from the way you made small talk with those around you, complimenting the choice of food and drink. It warmed his heart to know that his wife was an amiable soul.

“You needn’t worry, Princess. It is my duty as your husband to show you a bit of Northern hospitality.” Cregan mused, a ghost of a smile tugging at either corner of his mouth. He rarely showed any emotion, let alone treating his subjects with a smile given his hardiness, but he did show a sliver of it for you. He didn’t want to scare you away.

With a delighted smile, your hand shyly curled around his, your skin unblemished and soft. Cregan hadn’t touched a woman as silky as you, and it made his blood run hot — an inopportune time, given that it was in the midst of his wedding feast. “Thank you, my Lord.” You weren’t sure if you were permitted to abandon formalities just yet.

Cregan huffed, gaze twinkling with amusement as he let your smaller hand hold his own, digits tenderly caressing over your knuckles. “I would hope that you only call me ‘my Lord’ if you’re angry with me,” His chest rumbled with an affectionate sound. “You aren’t in King’s Landing anymore.”

Embarrassment rippled through you, but before you could correct yourself out of anxiousness, Cregan gingerly squeezed your hand. Instead, it evoked a smile from you, the very same tender expression you’d given him when you were proclaimed as his wife. “I will call you husband when I am pleased with you.” You mused, bright as could be, and so blissfully naive.

Often regarded as a brooding, serious man with little traces of humor, Cregan found himself letting his guard down just enough with you. Of course, to any observer, he still seemed rather stoic, but the brief, fleeting looks he gave you, the threadbare smiles — it suggested otherwise.

As the excitable buzz of the feast began to simmer, Cregan stood from the table, wood scraping across the stone floors of the Great Hall. He stepped away from you, sparing the servants and guardsmen a word before he returned to your side.

“Is there not to be a bedding ceremony?” You whispered, stomach still tight and festering with nervousness. It was something you feared since you last saw Aegon and Helaena be hauled away for such a thing. The concept of it frightened you, twisted and unusual.

With furrowed brows, Cregan shook his head, offering his thick arm out for you to take. “No,” He grunted, noticing the swell of anxiousness etched into your features. “I would never subject you to such a thing, or myself.” He murmured, feeling you take his arm as he led you from the Great Hall.

Relief flooded through you, and you finally relaxed, seemingly appreciative of Cregan’s thoughtfulness in the matter. “Thank you, husband.” You sighed, gripping onto his arm as he led you into a warm corridor and towards a massive spiral of thick, stone steps.

Though, you still had a duty to perform — consummating the marriage, creating an heir. Part of you feared what it all entailed, given that Helaena never seemed pleased with any of it. Would he hurt you? You were uncertain, but you wanted to believe that your new husband would keep you safe.

Cregan welcomed you into your marital chambers, tidied and polished for your stay. Whatever belongings you brought with you, they were situated near a set of fine, wooden chairs circled around a stone table. Everything seemed warm and comely in his quarters, the direwolf aesthetic heavy-handed, the hearth crackling and bursting with ripples of fire.

“If there is something not to your liking, inform me — I will have it rearranged,” Cregan rumbled, following in your footsteps as you neared the open hearth, warming your hands and basking in its glow. He stood close to you, towering over you with his bulk and might. “How are you?” He asked, ensuring your comfort above all else.

There was little need for the hearth when Cregan was near, radiating a natural heat that drew you in. His countenance seemed softer, not nearly as impassive as he’d been before. “I am more than fine, I promise.” You assured him, hands wringing together. “I thought that I would miss home, but I do not. Isn’t that terrible?”

Perplexed, Cregan seemed inclined to listen to your elaboration, chestnut tresses framing his face. “It isn’t a terrible thing, princess. I would imagine that it must be freeing, to be somewhere else. You’ve never left the capital.” He replied, knowing that you were quite sheltered for most of your life.

A soft sigh escaped you, and you tried not to think about it anymore. You didn’t want to sour the mood with talk of home and the past — this was now. “It is liberating,” You confessed, craning to look at him with a semblance of wonder and affection. “I am happy that I’m here with you.” You spoke with genuineness and finality.

It was pleasing to hear you say such a thing, and even better to know that you truly meant it. One thick, burly arm slowly encircled your hips, bringing you into the warm expanse of his chest. “Good,” He murmured, expression steely. “That pleases me greatly.”

To know that Cregan valued your happiness was a wonderful feeling — you felt cared for and seen, shrouded within his protectiveness. You imagined that it would be a blissful marriage. “Thank you, Cregan.” His name slipped from your perfect tongue, and he thoroughly enjoyed the sound it made.

A low rumble vibrated through Cregan’s chest as he drew you as close as he could, tracing his calloused digits along the soft curve of your jaw. “You are very beautiful,” He murmured, timbre edged with a delicious husk that made your knees buckle. You shivered, something that he took note of. “Are you cold, wife?”

You nodded, sucking in a sharp breath when his lips neared yours. “I am.” A squeak escaped you, followed by a steady exhale. You had been kissed before, but the extent of your experience abruptly stopped there. You imagined that you wouldn’t be cold for much longer.

His lips met yours, the kiss tender yet passionate, deepened by your husband. Cregan found your mouth to be most pleasant, pliant and perfectly soft, yet malleable. You reciprocated his kiss, hands moving to press against his chest.

“Will it be painful?” You whispered, likely in an attempt to soothe your gnawing nervousness. Agony was something that didn’t coexist with pleasure, in your mind. You wanted this moment to be special and sacred, binding yourself to your husband.

Cregan hesitated, gently cupping your face with his rough palm, tenderly stroking along your cheek. “I wouldn’t dare harm you, princess. You have my word.” He assured, and it confirmed his suspicions — you hadn’t been with another before. “It might be painful, but I will be gentle. We don’t have to start tonight.”

Admittedly, it was quite the opposite for you — you wanted to start tonight, but you longed for clarification first, and he gave it to you. You shook your head, hands slipping toward the front of his tunic, as if silently pleading with him to stay. “I want to.” You insisted, looking like the picture of innocence.

As much as he liked you sweet and pious, Cregan had a feeling that it would be somewhat different after this. His gray hues swirled with a heavy desire, dropping towards the delicate curve of your mouth. “May I?” It was all that he needed to ask, and as soon as you nodded, he brought you in for a heated kiss.

Despite his appearance, a stone-faced wall of muscle and Northern strength, he was incredibly gentle with you. He held you against him, never tight enough to cause you discomfort, hands softly kneading into your hips. You kissed him back as best as you could, feverishly hot, butterflies erupting within your stomach.

His beautiful wife — Cregan could not imagine another, now that he had you in his arms. The way you kissed him was innocuous and tender, as if you were also terrified of making a mistake. Your purity, a precious thing indeed, would be tarnished and dissolved after this evening.

The thought of you, round and swollen with his child, was both tantalizing and tempting — well within his grasp. Cregan wondered if they would take after you, pale-headed with lilac hues, or perhaps himself. If the Gods were good, they would be a blend of the both of you, a dragon and a wolf.

You shivered again when your burly husband curled his hand into the back of your wedding gown, fingers slipping between the gaps, feeling inklings of your bare skin beneath. “I’ll keep you warm, wife.” He rumbled, pressing a kiss against your jaw. It wasn’t from the cold, he knew this, but his honeyed words made you flustered.

He dropped his cloak, allowing the thick curtain of fur to land against the floor. He was impossibly broad, as thick as stone, tunic loose yet snug enough to accentuate his brawn. You felt your breath hitch within your throat, swallowing another barrage of nerves.

Cregan’s mouth assailed your neck, hand peeling away the collar of pale fur in order to reach you. Every kiss was passionate, wrought with need, yet maintained that air of gentleness. Roughness was in his nature, but he wouldn’t dare fall into that pit on your wedding night.

You tasted ambrosial, sweet velvet beneath his lips, which peppered themselves wherever they could. He listened to your soft gasps and needy whines, your hands having curled into the coarse material of his tunic. He wanted to show you just how perfect you really were.

Suddenly, your gown felt much too tight and constricting, as if you would drown within it. You alleviated such sensations by loosening the bodice, tugging on the ivory strings. The fur became unraveled as Cregan gently draped the garment over the back of a chair.

Left in the thin, humble trappings of your smallclothes, nothing more than a corset hugging a linen slip, he silently appraised you with the hunger of a wolf. You appeared to be shy, somewhat coy in his presence as he looked you over, large palms settling against the swell of your hips.

“Why do you shy away?” Cregan murmured, chestnut brows furrowing together, tone one of genuine concern. You were the prettiest creature he’d ever seen — most Targaryens were known for their beauty, but you possessed it both ways, inner and outer, and that only made you more incomparable in his eyes.

Swallowing your nerves, you chewed at the inside of your cheek, hands fidgeting together. “I suppose I worry about what you’ll think,” A sore insecurity, to be sure, but something most young maidens possessed. Cregan’s gray hues softened, one hand stroking along the length of your spine. “That I won’t be suitable.”

A huff escaped him, a threadbare chuckle as he shook his head, pressing a kiss against your forehead. “You worry too much, princess.” That deep, thunderous timbre of his, husky with his Northern accent, shook you right to your core. “You are my wife — and you are perfect.” He assured, kissing along your jaw.

You exhaled, hands reaching for his tunic, wanting to see him without his clothing. There was a rush of warmth that crawled across your flesh, surging through your blood as Cregan pressed endless kisses against your skin. He trailed from jaw to collarbone, hands loosening your corset.

With a brusque tug, your gruff husband tore it from you altogether, tossing the bodice aside. “I will show you how perfect you are.” He rumbled, voice a low, heavy caress near the shell of your ear. You shivered, gaze half-lidded as you tugged insistently at his tunic.

The message was unspoken, but conveyed nonetheless as your mountain of a husband let his hands drop from you, only to tug the coarse, dark linen over his head. He was burly, broad-shouldered and thick with muscle, wisps of chestnut tresses framing his face.

Amusingly enough, Cregan possessed more of a cherubic, youthful face than you expected, yet his nose was slightly crooked from having it broken, faint scars upon his face. His eyes seemed wisened, old beyond his years. He reached for your slip, gathering the material within his hands as he looked to you for consent.

With your confidence rejuvenated, you nodded, breathless and wanton as you assisted him in maneuvering out of your thin smallclothes. The brief lick of chilled air dragged across your bare flesh, causing your nipples to harden, pebbling with the chill.

Fire danced across your physique, tantalizing and gorgeous, beautiful beyond compare. Even Cregan seemed speechless for a beat, throat reverberating with a low grunt as he motioned toward your shared bed.

You half-expected him to pounce on you, grab your hips and stake his claim, but he simply resorted to watching you slide onto the bed, covered in furs of all varieties. The frame rustled slightly, and you laid down, a picture of true perfection. Your crown of pale tresses seemed to stick out amidst the darker pallor of the furs.

Anticipation churned violently within your gut, arousal slick and mounting between your thighs as Cregan stalked closer, removing clothing in the process. You watched with bated breath as he loosened the ties of his breeches, removing them altogether.

It was to be expected — a man of his indomitable stature likely had the assets to accompany it. You nearly choked at the sight of him, terrified that it really would hurt, even if he was gentle. You sucked in a sharp breath, bewildered when he had reclined beside you instead.

“I won’t bite, my Lady.” Cregan rumbled, soothingly patting his lap as you crawled closer. He effortlessly picked you up, letting you straddle his hips as he admired you from below. “Hm.” With a hum of approval, he caressed along your form, stroking from your thigh to your breasts.

It was agonizingly deliberate, made to explore and study instead of acting upon salacious impulses. Cregan observed you closely, palm gently cupping your breast, thumb swiping over your nipple. You gasped, careening into his sensual embrace.

A flurry of desire bubbled within him when you planted your smaller hand atop his, as if encouraging him to knead and grope at his leisure. He seemed pleased, and so did you, a low hum escaping you as he caressed your silky flesh.

He made sure to show that same amount of attention to your unattended breast, slowly kneading into you. Those tempestuous gray hues never tore themselves away from you, boring into you with a searing intensity.

Warm slick coalesced between your thighs, only mounting and growing when he continued to touch you, hand lifting to cup your chin. You absentmindedly leaned into his touch, eyes becoming half-lidded as you rocked forward within his lap.

The sensations you felt were new and exhilarating, goosebumps dancing across your spine, heat pooling between your legs. “May I touch you?” You asked, tone delicate and sweet, a display of your piety and innocence. He quite enjoyed your desire to explore alongside him, and he gave a nod of his head.

“You don’t need to ask, princess.” He soothed, jaw tensing as your soft palms settled against his chest. Cregan’s stormy eyes didn’t leave you, carefully tracing each plane of your curves, the downy texture of your skin, the lilac glint of your eyes.

Your fingertips dragged across his musculature, committing each scar to memory, features becoming hot beneath his incendiary stare. He was your husband now — you imagined that scenarios like these would become commonplace. “You are so handsome,” You whispered incredulously, lips curling into a gentle smile. “Perfect.”

Cregan appeared perplexed, a soft huff escaping him as he trailed his calloused palm across the small of your back. He couldn’t recall the last time someone had called him perfect and meant it — and he knew that you did. He neglected to act, allowing you to explore as much as you pleased.

Awestruck, he watched with silent hunger as you leaned down, lips pressing against his own. A soft grunt escaped Cregan as he caged you in, mouth passionate as it tangled with yours. He enjoyed the feeling of your body snug atop his, your skin resplendent, like velvet against the grating bite of stone.

Dragging a hand from the swell of your hips to the nape of your neck, he gripped the base of your skull, gingerly kneading into your pale tresses. He kissed you again, oozing with desire as he stole every wisp of air from your lungs.

He pulled one leg up into a v-shape, supporting your back to keep you upright atop his lap. You could feel the thick girth of his cock nudge against your backside, causing you to shiver at the foreign sensation. “Do you trust me?” Cregan murmured, roughened fingertips dragging over the pliant flesh of your thigh.

There was an indiscernible look within his eyes, chestnut brows drawing together slightly. Your breath hitched as you nodded, and Cregan settled against the furs, strewn on his back. Those strong hands of his continued to nudge you forward, bringing you from his warm lap to his chest, and then a touch closer.

“What are you …” Uncertain yet filled with exhilaration, you had no idea what Cregan was planning. Your slick cunt neared his mouth, and your Northern paramour did little to slow the process, bumping you forward until you hovered above him. “C—Cregan, C —” Your voice tapered off into a whine.

His tongue raked hot embers across your cunt, a sensation that immediately made your knees buckle. You used the headboard to brace yourself, mouth tearing open as a strangled gasp escaped you. Part of you feared sitting down entirely, but Cregan coaxed you down, hands digging into your haunches.

Your reaction was beyond worthwhile, body trembling and coiled, hand scrambling to brace yourself as the other fervently dug into his chestnut tresses. You never imagined that such pleasure was even possible, filling you with an excitable ecstasy that sank into your bones.

Splitting past your folds, Cregan tasted every inch of you, tongue seeking your cunt with a fervor. He was vigorous in his ministrations, not shying away from consuming every drop of your arousal. His nose brushed against your mound, hands kneading into your thighs to reassure you, let you know that he had you.

Even when he rested beneath you, he still seemed indomitable, perhaps a touch intimidating. You didn’t look down, body involuntarily trembling and rocking forward, back beginning to arch. “Gods, a—ah!” You stammered, thighs twitching and quivering as his tongue gently flicked over your clit.

Visibly flustered, you felt so strange and smitten, riding your husband’s face as you would your dragon. It filled your belly with a rousing fire, one bright enough to consume the rest of your body, licking along the length of your spine.

A low rumble emerged from Cregan’s chest, a vibration that rattled you to your core. He wanted you to have your fill, take as much as you could and drown within pleasure. Your maidenhead was still intact, a virtue that he did not treat lightly. He didn’t feel the need to breathe, lapping at your cunt with a wolfish gluttony.

You were undeniably soaked, like a fine stout upon his tongue as he devoured you. Cregan was passionate, each stroke of his tongue ensuring that you felt it all, bliss erupting throughout your stomach.

Chasing after what you imagined to be your release, you happened to peer down for a moment, finding the contented face of your husband, whose face was lodged between your legs. His brows were creased in concentration, tongue prodding against your entrance before languidly flicking back to your clit.

It was only when he pursed his lips around that sensitive clutch of nerves, that you nearly collapsed around him. Even your draconic blood could melt, tempered by the hardened ice of your Northern paramour. You gasped, hips stuttering as your thighs squeezed at either side of his head — fortunately, he didn’t seem to care.

The only thing you wanted was this, forever — your husband’s tongue between your legs, a sanctuary in the North with a potential family, a life in which you could finally find your solace. You continued to squirm and writhe, moaning his praises into the warmth of your chambers.

As you approached your peak, you grappled with Cregan’s tresses, tugging at the root as you rocked forward, again and again. “Cregan,” You moaned, countenance contorting into a look of sheer pleasure, bones crawling with an insatiable heat. “Cregan, Cregan, please!” It was a siren’s song of desire.

He did not stop, but he didn’t change course, either. Instead, he simply continued on, suckling at your clit as he intermingled it with timed laps of his tongue. Your release slammed into you, white-hot and blistering, gnawing away at your stomach as that coil of heat effectively snapped.

A whine emerged from you, one that was nearly breathless as you rocked forward again, legs shaking from ecstasy as you rode out your peak. Cregan, ever the dutiful husband, lapped at your nectar, savoring the taste, the scent of a pleasurable aftermath.

“What —” You had to catch your breath again, attempting to recuperate as you sat back on his chest instead, thick, burly muscle plentiful enough to cushion you. “Where did you learn how to do that?” It was an innocuous question, one so sweetly-spoken that it nearly caused Cregan to chuckle.

He did, however, smile — a rare, sentimental gesture reserved only for you. It was threadbare, and if it weren’t for the nature of your relationship, one might’ve thought him to be rugged and indifferent. “You need only ask, princess, and I will oblige.” His voice was a deep rumble that warmed your insides.

You thoroughly enjoyed the nickname of princess — a term of endearment given your status, but you were a princess no longer. “I am a lady of the North now, aren’t I? A princess no longer,” You proclaimed, skin shimmering with perspiration. “What will you call me, now?” You asked.

“Hm,” Cregan contemplated, pressing a kiss against your leg before he sat up enough to have a good look at you, chin still glistening with your slick. The sight was lewd, enough to make you unbelievably flustered as he grew closer, nearly chest-to-chest with you. “Lady Stark would suffice.” He murmured.

Something amorous burned within you, a smolder that soon turned to ignited sparks. “It would please me greatly.” You hummed, running your hands over his biceps before Cregan gently changed places with you, moving you beneath his bulk, comfortable upon your back.

Soft was a mere understatement — he could feel himself melt. It was not your dragon’s blood or heat that made him crumble, but your heart. He could imagine you as the mother of his children, belly round with his heirs, the Lady of Winterfell, a Hightower no longer.

He settled between your legs, and you gasped when his cock gently glided against your slick core. Cregan knew to temper himself, to be as gentle as he could with it being your wedding night, but his resolve was steadily diminished in your presence. He steeled himself, pressing a string of kisses along your body.

Without thinking, you unconsciously goaded Cregan into a point of near-frenzy. Your hands found the taut, trunk-like muscle of his biceps, visage filled with a sense of awe and adoration. “A child would please me greatly.” You confessed, having no clue what it would do to your husband.

Cregan stopped, digits curling into the thick furs on either side of your head. It took every fiber of his being not to fuck you then and there — and he wouldn’t, it wasn’t right for him to take your maidenhead with such roughness. His fantasy became reality, a visceral, beautiful vision that made him grunt, jaw unnaturally tense.

His rough palm soothingly stroked along your thigh, lust swelling within him like a blizzard, a violent storm of need that transcended all bonds of propriety. “Does Lady Stark want me to put a pup in her belly?” Cregan rumbled, tempestuous hues ignited with a fire that demanded to be extinguished, sending shockwaves right to your core.

You swallowed the growing lump within your throat, shuddering at the sound of his voice — an edged husk, like the rumbling of thunder before a deluge or the shaking of a mountain. “Yes,” You exhaled, searching his countenance, only to find desire. “I would.”

The Gods were testing him, aiming to see if he would break beneath the pressure, but he refused. Cregan lowered himself over you, lips molding themselves against yours in a hot kiss. Your hands remained poised atop his biceps, barely able to wrap themselves around the thick, corded muscle.

He wasn’t much of a talker, and it quickly dwindled into deep grunts and heavier sighs as he aligned his cock with your entrance. He made sure to part your legs, keeping them spread as he began to push inside of you. The sudden intrusion made you gasp, startled at the twinge of pain, the discomfort of it all.

Cregan despised the mere thought of causing you harm, and even he was willing to end it all then and there. “We don’t have to continue, beloved.” He rumbled, pressing a soothing string of kisses along your face. The endearing nickname made you preen, nails digging into his arms.

“No, I — I’m well enough,” You breathed, insistent on continuing. Cregan deliberated, but when you let out a low whine, he obeyed your command. “Gods, I need you, Cregan.” Pitched with a wanton resonance, you urged him to keep going.

Your neediness made his blood run hot, and he nodded, sluggishly resuming his pace. He continued to tilt his hips forward, cock feeding into you, inch by agonizing inch. Cregan felt the desperate bite of your nails clutching into muscle, leaving behind angry crescents.

You were never fully warned of the pain, the discomfort that accompanied pleasure. It was always sold as some fantasy, particularly for men — nights of heavenly passion resulting in bliss. For you, it was simply a marital duty to provide your husband with an heir, but this transcended that. Passion and affection sparked between the both of you, and it felt right.

As Cregan finally bottomed out inside of you, he allowed you time to fully adjust, rocking into you at a lackadaisical pace. He continued to shower you in kisses, wherever his lips could reach, giving particular affection to the crook of your neck.

Whatever discontent you felt, you hastily pushed it aside, tossing it into the recesses of your mind. Instead, you focused on him — on how incredible he made you feel, the warmth you experienced in his presence. One of your hands slipped to thread within his chestnut tresses, mouth agape.

You took him so well — better than expected, and it filled him with a sense of pride and ardor. Cregan pressed hungry kisses along your throat, nose buried into the hollow of it, right beneath your jugular. He continued to go slow, afraid of causing you further pain.

Cregan repositioned his hand, leaving one lodged beside your head, the other sinking into your haunch, digits tenderly kneading into your thigh. It was an offer of reassurance, and he watched your countenance shift from discontented to relaxed.

“Move,” The sharpness of your command brought him to heel, and he very nearly smiled — it was there, the ghost of it toying at his lips. Bringing his hips back and then forward, you moaned, knowing that the sting of pain would soon blossom into pleasure. “Please.”

Molten heat swirled within the pit of your stomach, arousal thick between your legs as Cregan began to find his pace, a rhythm that shook you to your core. He was so very gentle, even for a man of his herculean mass and muscle. He took care of you, soothingly caressing your thigh as he thrusted into you.

His cock filled you completely, a stretch that would take you more than just one night to adjust to. Your maidenhead was gone, your cunt tight around his length, pulling him in again and again.

Cregan’s breathing became heavier, somewhat labored as he consummated your union. Each snap of his hips held meaning, beyond the creation of an heir. It was tenuous with feelings, a burning sentiment he felt for you, ardor that had grown into a fire.

Admittedly, his mind was hazy, fueled by desire and the mere thought of you wanting a child — you had asked it of him, demanded, and he was at your mercy. Cregan couldn’t have gotten any luckier with you, the most resplendent woman he’d ever seen.

Imagining you full and round, still as lovely as the day he set his eyes upon you, a mother and a dragon — it was nothing short of true perfection. He chased after it, evident by the growing vigor and passion in each thrust of his hips, cock nearly tearing you into two.

No matter how gentle and careful Cregan was with you, it was to no avail, but you no longer cared. “Cregan,” You moaned, lifting one leg to hitch it around his waist, and that only seemed to further spur him on, allowing him to hit new depths. His throbbing length nearly kissed your womb, filling you to the brim. “Cregan!” You cried.

For a moment, you feared being split in-half by your mountain of a husband, but he slowed enough to let you recuperate, throat reverberating with carnal grunts. The rumbling of his chest, the heat that radiated from him in waves — it was all perfect.

It was driving him mad, the way your cunt constricted around his cock, the way in which your back arched from the furs, chest brushing against his. Cregan grunted, jaw set and brows furrowed in concentration as he kneaded into your thigh, something to alleviate his tension.

His thrusts deepened, became passionate and invigorated with love, and each snap of his hips made your head spin with delirium. You were drunk on desire, clinging to him as if you were a drowning maiden, hand splayed against his shoulder.

Whenever he happened to become a touch too vigorous, he felt your nails dig deep into his flesh, leaving behind the reddened marks of your consummation. Cregan was getting close, chest erupting with labored pants as he pressed his forehead against yours.

You moaned, body bending beneath his passion, malleable within his hands. His cock throbbed within you as he sought to spill his seed, face against yours, lips occasionally connecting in a series of sloppy, warm kisses. Everything felt incredible, in ways that you couldn’t comprehend.

He was so burly, a thick wall of impenetrable muscle that seemed to envelop you entirely, shield you from everything else, from all harm. Strands of chestnut stuck to his temples, flesh glittering with perspiration from the exertion of lovemaking, coupled with the heat in your chambers.

With another brusque thrust of his hips, he settled inside of you, reaching his peak with a subtle groan. His seed filled your cunt in hot ropes, more than enough to take, if the Gods were good. Cregan exhaled, feverishly hot as he began to recuperate, neglecting to remove himself from you for a few moments.

“Are you alright?” Cregan murmured, ensuring your wellbeing first, above all else. A stinging soreness settled into your thighs and your core, but you would survive. He didn’t completely obliterate you, thankfully — you wondered what he would be like, unrestrained.

“Yes,” You smiled, visibly flustered beneath the intensity of his stare. “That was incredible.” Your confession made him huff, likely one of amusement as he pressed a kiss against your forehead. Even you glittered with sweat, but that was to be expected.

You already wanted more — and you nearly asked it of him.

Lascivious fantasies took root within your mind, and the mere idea of him being rough and completely domineering made your cunt throb. You could not do it now, given how exhausted you were, but he had certainly unlocked a new side to you, a side that you were unfamiliar with.

Cregan pulled himself from you, propping your hips up beneath a feathered pillow to ensure that his seed would take. He rested beside you, drawing you into the bulk of his muscled arms, allowing you to rest your head against the expanse of his chest. “You were perfect.” He rumbled, roughened digits stroking along your spine.

It pleased you to know that your husband was satisfied with you, much to your delight. “I am glad,” Relief rippled through you as you inched closer, perfectly slotted against his frame. “So were you.” Your pleasant accolades made him smile, fracturing his stony exterior.

“There will be plenty of time for this, that I can promise you,” Cregan was more concerned with getting to know you, his beautiful lady-wife, Lady Stark. “I would like to start with you.” He murmured, savoring the sensation of your fingers tracing across his abdomen.

You blinked, seemingly surprised by Cregan’s genuine interest in you. It made you happy — perhaps you could have both. Moments of learning and moments like these, where you could indulge in pleasure.

“Would it offend you if I asked you to do both?” You questioned, warmth crawling along your body as Cregan squeezed the swell of your hip, gray hues sparkling with a semblance of mirth.

“It wouldn’t,” Cregan mused, timbre dropping to a lull, a husky octave that seemed to envelop you in its stoicism and warmth. “It pleases me to know that Lady Stark possesses the appetite of a dragon.” His teasing made you squirm, but he simply caressed you and held you closer.

With a coy smile, you lifted your head, pressing your lips against his, asserting your still-lingering desire for your husband. “Not a dragon,” Your tone softened with a sweeter resonance. “A wolf.”

copyright @ swordgrace ; please do not steal my work and claim it as your own or translate it onto other platforms.

ℑ 𝔞𝔪 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯𝔰.

Cregan Stark x Reader.

Summary: You become jealous when you see a serving girl attempt to seduce your husband.

Based on request: Hello love! I'd like to request a Cregan Stark x Reader piece where she sees him being touched on by some prostitutes at a feast, and she gets jealous. Smut or not, I'll leave it up to you.

Warnings: SMUT (mdni), p in v sex, unprotected sex, cowgirl, mutual orgasm.

Author's note: This was the last request in my inbox, so please feel free to send a request. 🖤

You return to the feast after putting your son to bed, leaving him in the capable hands of your dedicated servants. Upon entering the hall, you are greeted by the lively melodies reverberating within the stone walls. Some guests are dancing, and everyone appears to be enjoying the refreshments provided.

Cregan is seated at the head of the Great Hall. His solemn expression softens slightly as he notices your return. He raises his mug of beer to his lips and watches as you navigate through the crowd.

“My lord, would you like me to refill your mug?” one of the serving girls approaches Cregan.

He glances up at the serving girl before returning his gaze to you. You are stuck in a conversation with a lord you have mentioned disliking. A slight smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. Cregan sets his mug down and pushes it toward the girl, not bothering to take his eyes off you.

The serving girl exaggeratedly bends over the table to refill Cregan’s mug, her provocative eyes fixed on him.

His smile fades from his face as he notices the girl’s exaggerated movements from the corner of his eye. He chooses to ignore her obvious attempts to seduce him, clearly uninterested. The smile that was there before reappears as he thinks to himself, as if the girl is even a sliver of the woman you are.

“Congratulations on your son’s second name day, my lord,” the serving girl makes another attempt to capture Cregan’s attention, reaching out to gently touch his shoulder.

“Thank you,” Cregan responds gruffly, his gaze briefly falling on the girl’s hand on his shoulder. Unfazed, he reaches for his now-refilled mug of beer and lifts it to his mouth, taking a sip from it. His gaze returns to you as he speaks in a composed tone. “You may take your hand off me, girl.”

Your eyes harden as you make your way through the crowd, watching the serving girl attempt to seduce Cregan from a distance.

Cregan catches your darkened gaze from across the room, noticing the hardness in your eyes. He raises an eyebrow in response, as if daring you to say something.

“Excuse me, you’re blocking my seat,” you say as you reach the table, a hint of irritation in your voice as you address the serving girl.

The serving girl turns her head in your direction, and her seductive demeanour immediately falters. Her hand falls from Cregan’s shoulder as she realizes she is in your way. “Of course, my Lady,” she says, her voice lacking any sort of challenge. She steps aside so you can sit in the empty chair next to Cregan.

Instead of taking your seat, you approach Cregan and sit on his lap.

Cregan’s lips twitch into an amused smile. His hand immediately finds its way to your hip, his fingers gently caressing your skin through the material of your dress. He leans back in his chair and brings his mug to his mouth, taking another sip.

He lowers the mug from his mouth before speaking, his voice deep and husky. “Feeling possessive, are we, Lady Stark?”

“I am merely claiming what is rightfully mine,” you murmur as you watch the serving girl scurry away.

He lets out a low chuckle, the sound of it nearly lost in the noise of the feast. Cregan’s hand on your hip tightens its grip slightly. “Rightfully yours, indeed,” he agrees quietly, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

-

The wait until all your guests had left was tedious, but here you were, dragging Cregan back to your chamber. He stays silent as you drag him through the dimly lit corridors. He does not question where you are taking him because he already knows.

With each step, his pulse quickens in anticipation, his mind growing more and more clouded with thoughts of you. He wants you, needs you, yearns for you. He needs to feel you.

“Out, all of you. You are dismissed for the night,” you order the servants in your chamber as you drag Cregan inside. The servants, who were tidying your chamber and preparing it for the night, drop their tasks and quickly exit the chamber, leaving the two of you alone.

You close the distance between yourself and Cregan, pinning him against the door. Your fingers fumble to undo him of his cloak.

Cregan’s eyes darken with a mixture of anticipation and desire as he watches your fingers fumble with the clasps of his cloak. As his cloak falls to the ground with a thud, your hands move to the back of his head, pulling him in for a passionate kiss.

His lips meet yours hungrily, the intensity of the kiss almost overwhelming. His hands find their way to your hips, pulling you closer, wanting to feel the heat of your body against his own.

“Stupid girl, thinking she could seduce you,” you murmur against Cregan’s lips as you continue to undress him.

Cregan’s breath hitches as you speak, your words sending a shiver through his body. “She never stood a chance,” he agrees in a deep voice, his hands moving to the laces of your dress, loosening them with practiced fingers.

“You know I have no interest in other women,” he adds, a hint of amusement in his tone as he pushes your dress off your shoulders, his eyes wandering over your exposed shift.

You hum in response as you lift Cregan’s blue tunic over his head, your fingers hooking into his breeches and tugging him with you as you walk backward to the bed.

“Off,” you gesture to his breeches as you crawl onto the bed.

Cregan’s eyes darken at your command. He obeys without hesitation, unfastening the laces of his breeches and pushing them down along with his smallclothes. He follows you onto the bed with a sense of urgency, his body craving yours. He positions himself between your legs, his hands roaming over your thighs, pushing the bunched-up fabric of your shift even higher up.

Using all your strength, you manage to push Cregan onto his back. You move to straddle him, lifting your shift up over your head and tossing it to the side. The sight of you straddling him, bare and exposed, leaves Cregan breathless. His eyes roam over your body, taking in every curve, his hands instinctively reaching for your hips.

“Gods,” he groans, his fingers digging into your flesh, his voice strangled with desire.

You lean forward, hovering your face above Cregan’s. “You’re mine,” you murmur seductively. Your hardened nipples brushing against Cregan’s chest.

“I’m yours,” he agrees immediately, his voice rough with desire.

You sit back up and raise your hips, guiding Cregan’s hardened length towards your entrance. You gasp as you sink down on his length, your eyes fluttering shut at the familiar stretch.

Cregan’s head falls back against the furs, a guttural moan escaping his lips as you flutter around his length.

Your trembling hands rest on his muscular chest, stabilizing yourself as you begin to ride him at a slow pace.

Cregan’s heartbeat quickens beneath your hands. He watches you with a sense of awe and admiration, his eyes filled with longing. His hands are on your hips guiding your movements. He wants more, needs more.

You pick up your pace, your thrusting turning into desperate grinding, your face scrunching up with pleasure.

His hands tighten on your hips, and a low growl escapes from the back of his throat. He watches you intently, his eyes drinking in every expression you make. He craves to make you come undone. He plants his feet into the bed, thrusting up into you.

You slump forward, a whimper escaping your throat as Cregan thrusts up into you. Your head gently rests against the crook of his neck.

Cregan’s arms immediately wrap around you, holding you close against his chest. He can feel the heat of your breath against his skin, your body trembling against his.

“Oh gods,” you gasp as your orgasm washes over you, your walls clenching around him.

The feeling of you clenching around him pushes Cregan over the edge. He buries his face in your shoulder, groaning lowly as he spills his seed inside of you.

You chuckle against Cregan’s neck, your breath coming out in shallow puffs. Your tired body slumps on top of him.

Cregan wraps his arms around you, holding you close. His fingers gently trace patterns along the curve of your back.

“I’m yours,” he whispers softly.

“You’re mine,” you repeat his words.

Cregan cranes his neck to press a gentle kiss to your temple. “Only yours,” he confirms, holding you tighter against him.

Unwavering desire

{Cregan doesn’t do well with out your touch, duties be damned}

Kinda nervous but I hope you enjoy lovelies!! 💕

!18!

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Cregan is undoubtedly in love with you, heart, body and soul. He loves how sweet you are, your gentle words and touches that have him completely enthralled and at your beckoning call. He knows for a fact that there’s nothing in the world he wouldn’t do for you.

He wakes before the sun and he takes advantage of the serenity that blankets the cold castle. He props himself up on his elbow as he watches you with gentle eyes, noticing the way your face is relaxed with sleep, how every now and again you nuzzle yourself within the soft pillows.

He brushes your cheek with the back of his finger, tucking your hair behind your ear before leaning down to press a kiss to your cheek. He chuckles at the way you inch yourself closer to him in a search for warmth, your hand brushing against his stomach as it rests on his waist.

There’s a small, almost satisfied, smile that splays across your lips once you find his warmth, and the sight has his heart racing.

You press your face to his chest, “Good morning my love” you mumble, smiling against him as his hands soothe the expanse of your back, urging you close to him.

He leans down to press a kiss to your hairline letting his lips linger for a moment before speaking, “Good morning dear” he smiles, his breath hitching ever so softly as your hand runs over his stomach.

“How long have you been awake for?” You ask, sleep still lacing with your soft tone. Your fingers brush through his hair.

“Not long,” he tells you, his hands pushing the fabric of your night dress up and you catch on rather quickly as to what he’s doing, your fingers wrapping around his wrist as you stop his movements.

You look over at the window, noticing the sun as it peaks over the horizon, “Cregan, we don’t have time you’ve got a busy day ahead” you remind him, and lets out a long deep sigh, frustration tingling at his skin.

He can’t, he can’t go another day without feeling you, without having you completely come undone before him, “I’m finding it very hard to care lovely” he says, his fingers playing with the hem of your silk dress.

He smirks at the way your breath hitches as the tips of his fingers graze against your soft skin, trailing along your thigh.

“You need me as I need you dear” he whispers, lips grazing against your ear and he notices the way you shudder at the feather-light touch as he traces patterns into your inner thigh, “I can tell” he smiles into your neck as he peppers your skin with warm open-mouthed kisses, enjoying the way you gasp.

You couldn’t deny it, the tightening feeling in your stomach conjured from the desperate need of your husband's touch spoke for itself, “Tell me, my beautiful wife. Tell me what you want” his lips graze against your jaw. Cregan would give you anything you so desire if you asked, he spoiled you.

“Just you, I want you- please” you whisper, and you let the morning lust consume you without a care in the world because Cregan made it hard to care, especially with the way his calloused hands traverse your warm body, squeezing at your hips as he sits himself between your legs.

He notices the way your eager hands immediately go towards his hardening cock, a look of pure desperation flickers through your eyes and he stops you, fingers wrapping around your wrist, “Let me savour you first hm?” He smiles at the way you let out a whine, head falling back against the pillows with a huff.

Cregan chuckles as he presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth, small loving pecks that soon turn into something much needier, his tongue hot against yours as he chases after your warmth. “Such an impatient little thing” he mumbles against you.

He brings a hand to run up your thigh, spreading your legs wider and he hums with satisfaction at the sight of your bare cunt, slick with your pleasure and there’s a feeling of pride that bursts through his chest, he’s barely even touched you and you’re already so worked up.

“Mhm, Cregan please” your hips writhe in anticipation, as his hand inches closer, and you gasp. Hands grasping at his shoulder as his fingers trail along your wet slit.

His fingers rub firm circles into your clit as he presses kisses against your collarbones, “I’ve been mistreating you, forgive me dove” he whispers, the slightly rough skin of his fingertips against your clit elicits a moan from your supple lips, a sound so delicious that it has Cregan's mind spinning.

You mumble incoherent words, a whiny mess as he pushes a finger into you watching the way your arch into his touch, you blabber for more, to be ‘filled up’ and Cregan couldn’t ever deny you, not when you sound so needy.

So he pushes a second finger into your wetness, curling them so deeply as his thumb teases your clit. The sound of your soaked cunt only causes him to fuck you harder with his fingers. “Cregan- ah! m’so close- please” you moan, arching into his touch as your hands clutch at the furs that layer beneath you, your stomach tightening.

“Not yet lovely, I want to feel you” and just like that the growing knot that tightens in your stomach unravels as he moves his hand away from you, a feeling so disappointing it brings tears to your eyes.

He kisses your tears away, as your hand dips between your bodies, fingers wrapping around his painfully hard cock. He seethes as you squeeze it gently your thumb grazes against his leaking tip. “Take me Cregan- I need you” You look up at him as he lines himself up with you, his hand holding yours as he pushes himself into your wetness.

You squeeze his hand, “You’re so beautiful” he whispers, grunting as his pelvis presses against yours, hips meeting. You whine out in pleasure at how he fills you up, and you feel complete.

“You- you can move, oh gods, please move” you beg, your eyes shut as he sets a pace, your hips moving with his as you two become one. A feeling so intense that it leaves you senseless, you can’t think of anything but Cregan, he surrounds you completely.

His lips are pressed against yours, a sweet loving kiss, a feeling only saved for you. “Take me so well my love, fuck- so tight” he groans as you tighten around him, your legs wrapped around his hips, locking him in place as he continues to fuck you.

He can tell you’re close yet again, the way you gasp, how your thighs shake. “Let go for me dove,” he tells you, his finger circling your clit.

“Ah! Cregan-” The tightness in your stomach finally snaps as you cum, gushing around his length as he pushes further into you, the feeling soon brings him to completion with a deep groan, and the warm feeling has your skin tingling with pleasure.

He collapses on top of you with a slight grunt, the weight of him grounds you as your hand soothes against his back, trailing the scars that litter his skin.

“Duties be damned, I want to spend the day with you” he mumbles against your skin as you both slowly come down from your highs and you can’t help but chuckle at his words, “I’m serious” he quips.

You turn your head to press a kiss to his cheek, “There are people counting on you Cregan” you remind him softly smiling at the way he peppers your shoulder with soft kisses.

“What about you hm? You’re much more important to me” he whispers, and there’s something about his tone that makes your chest ache.

“I love you, Cregan, more than anything. I’ll be fine, promise” you tell him, he looks up at you with gentle eyes and you wonder how you got so lucky.

“I love you too my dear” he presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth, “At least let us take a bath together before I have to leave” he says, as he pulls out of you seething slightly at the sensation. You sit up wrapping yourself in a robe.

“I would love nothing more,” you tell him, as he presses a kiss to your hairline, letting his lips linger for a second more before preparing a bath for both of you.

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withheld desire | aemond targaryen

Ships: Modern!Aemond Targaryen x Reader, Aemond x Jeyne (mentioned) Warnings: smut, degredation, praise, underwear ripping, dominant aemond sub reader, friends to sex havers. A/N: First time uploading for a while, and first time uploading for HOTD, enjoy 18+ past the cut

You and Aemond were an anomaly, not that it mattered to anyone but the two of you.

Aegon was throwing a party, much to no one’s surprise. He alwaysthrows a party when Alicent goes out of town.  That left You and Aemond on the couch, taking shots together to forget your problems.

“Just look at Jeyne, fucking macking on the first man who looks her way.” Aemond grunts and you put a sympathetic hand on his shoulder, the alcohol settling warmly in your stomach.

“C’mon, let’s make her jealous.” You suggest, standing up and extending your hand to your best friend, who takes it thankfully.

Aemond smashes his lips onto yours, in an attempt to make Jeyne jealous, but finds himself enjoying the feeling of you desperately rutting your hips against his. He presses you against the closest wall, letting you wrap your legs around his waist, your hand going to grasp his hair, emitting a moan into his mouth.

“Do you want to go upstairs?” Aemond breathes out between kisses, and you nod, and eagerly lead him up to his room, locking the door behind you.

Aemond quickly gets back to work, roughly sitting you on his desk as his hands move in featherlike motions over your clothed pussy, and he groans. “So wet for me, and I haven’t done anything.” He chuckles, mocking you, and your hips jut against his fingers repetitively.

“Fuck me, please.” You moan, lips moving to his neck, where you leave a small hickey, and he sighs pleasurably,

“No, not yet. Gotta take care of my girl, hm?” He says, taking a seat in his desk chair and lowering it so he’s between your legs.  His hands easily snap the elastic of your underwear, leaving you bare to him. “Mmh!” You moan as the cold air meets your cunt, and you almost scream as Aemond presses his tongue to your most intimate part.

“Quiet, pet, or I’ll stop.” He threatens, head back in between your legs as he laps at your heat, putting a finger into your aching hole. “F-Fuck. Aem..” You whisper, hands knotting in his hair, and he slips a second finger in at your approval.

Aemonds fingers curl harshly against your g spot, his tongue still attacking your clit, and you feel your stomach heat up. “I’m close, please don’t stop.” You whimper, and he chuckles, sending vibrations throughout you, leaving you squirming.

Aemond speeds up the movements of his tongue and fingers, and you quickly come to your release with a muffled moan as Aemonds free hand goes to cover your mouth, you’re left twitching. “O-Oh fuck.” You whisper as he pulls away, standing up from his seat. “I’m not done with you.” Aemond whispers in your ear, and he makes work of undoing his pants quickly, jerking himself a few times before putting his tip into you. “Can I continue, pet?” He asks, and you nod eagerly.

Aemond pushes in slowly, and you feel yourself being stretched to the maximum. The pain burns for a few seconds, and he watches your face with care, making sure you’re okay. “Move, please.” Your whimpers come out, and usually, he would tease you. But tonight, he just wanted to fuck you.

Aemonds thrusts are rough, making ecstasy rise in your stomach each time his cock brushes your g spot.

“Fuck, you’re so tight for me. You take me so well.” He moans into your ear, and you whine. Aemonds hand went skilfully to your throat, and you tipped your neck back to give him more room. The lack of oxygen left you more aroused than ever as he fucked you dumb.

“Don’t fucking stop,” You wheeze out, and he goes even rougher, “My pretty girl,” Aemond groans, and you tighten around him. “You like being praised hm?” He asks, and you manage a meek ‘Yes.’

“Such a good girl, all for me, your pussy feels so good around me, fucking cockslut.” He says, his pace becoming more erratic as you both near your peaks.

“I’m gonna cum, Aemond.” You whine, rutting against his movements, “Me too, cum for me, whore.” He demands, hand tightening around your throat as he empties himself into your cunt, and you squeeze him like a vice as you orgasm, seeing white-hot pleasure and stars and all good things in the world as you go limp.

“You were so good for me,” Aemond mutters, stroking your cheek with his fingers, he pulls up his pants, picking you up in his arms and tucking you into his bed. He gets a cloth from the closet, runs warm water over it and cleans you.

“You fucked me so hard I can barely speak.” You joke, voice weak. “I’m glad it was good for you,” Aemond smiles, and he gives you one of his band shirts to sleep in, to which you put on over your other shirt. He wordlessly crawls into bed with you, and you both daze off to sleep, wondering how this will affect your friendship once you wake.

y’all send me requests i wanna write

will do practically anything for HOTD characters

Which characters do you write for?

hey hon! i’ll write for any<3 i do both women and men

Hiiiii. Could you write something with the reader giving Aegon head in public (either like getting caught or just blatantly doing it in front of guards or servants)

Caught | Aegon Targaryen x Fem!Reader

Summary: Aegon and the reader get caught in a compromising position.

Pairing: Aegon x Wife!reader, slight Aemond x reader if you squint

Warnings: Smut, Smut with plot, oral f!receiving,

You knew Aegon was daring when you wed him, there was no one who didn't know.

I had no clue he was this daring. You thought as his hand travelled up your dress and rubbed over your clothed slit. You look around the library your sat in, and find only a few servants and guards, much to your relief.

You give him a stern look, and he only takes this as encouragement.

You stifle your moans by gripping the book in your hands and taking deep breaths. This is when Aegon decides he's not doing enough, and slips under the table, shedding you of your undergarments and teasingly lifting his tongue through your folds, finding your clit and making small circles around with his tongue.

You almost cry out in pleasure but manage to fake a cough in time. Aegon uses your wetness which is mixed with his saliva to lubricate his fingers, carefully putting one inside your cunt, curling up against your G spot.

The coil in your stomach builds and builds, but your eyes meet Aemonds, who has just strolled into the library. "My lady," Aemond bows, seemingly unaware of his brother under the table, barely covered by the cloth adorning it.

"Have you seen my brother? I cannot find him anywhere." Aemond questions, and your breath picks up.

"Uhm!" You squeak as Aegon silently laughs against your clit, sending vibrations through you. "I- I havent seen him, I'm sure hes gonna co-" You speak, but your peak rapidly approaches, the invigorating feeling of being watched by Aemond who doesnt know, has you hurdling towards your orgasm. "I'm sure hes gonna.. come around." You say, your orgasm so close.

Aegon speeds up from under the table, movements of his fingers ferocious, and tongue pedantic and caring.

"I'm gonna go find him, thank you for your help." Aemond says, turning around.

"I'm gonna come!" You breathe out quietly, and Aemond turns around.

"That would be rather helpful," Aemond speaks, but realises your body language, the heavy breathing, and his eyes widen.

You helplessly let out a loud moan as your orgasm washes over you, your nerves exploding with pleasure.

Aegon rises from under the table, licking his fingers clean, and you meekly say, "Found him!" With your face flushed with embarrasment, and pleasure.

Aemonds eyes widen, and he shakes his head, eye widened and mouth ajar as he storms out of the library with urgency.

"Should I be worried you came at the sight of my brother?" Aegon chuckles, and you blush further, face on fire.

"Shut up," You groan, taking his hand, not wanting to think about facing Aemond ever again.

Hi, can I please request reader x Aegon, where she is a shy and kind lady and everyone asumes that she will marry some nice man like Jacerys, who is already in love with her. He courts her, treats her like a real gentleman, but as much as she wants to enjoy his attention she craves something different&darker. She wants man who will love her and praise her but at the same time wouldn't hesitate to spank her, choke her or call her his whore. And Jace isn't someone who can give it to her, but Aegon is. And Aegon is more than willing to fulfill her fantasies especially when he knows that it will hurt Jace...

Fantasies | Aegon Targaryen x Fem!Reader Pairings: Aegon x Fem!reader (main) Jace x Fem!Reader mentioned. Summary: Aegon takes quite the liking to Jaces betrothed. Warnings: Cheating, porn with plot, Aegon steals Jace's wife, hair pulling, degredation, praise and possessiveness. A/N: This was so fucking fun to write! Reblogs appreciated<3

You were the picture of elegance to anyone who knew you, being a highborn lady meant you were intended to marry a highborn man. Thats what lead to yours and Jace's eventual courting.

You had little to no feelings for him, there was no passion. He'd give you flowers, take you on walks, make flirty quips- but that all felt empty, you wanted more.

A feast began, and you found yourself bored as Jace danced with you. He was innocent, which was the opposite of what you wanted. He twirled you, and dipped you, but you felt hollow. Ladies of the court fawned over the two of you.

You dont know why you cant focus on Jace, why he does not give you butterflies the way you imagined when you were young. You dont know why the only sense of happiness you've gotten tonight was when Aegon looked at you like a predator looking at his prey.

It sent excitement through your bones, and you couldn't explain why. But you simply couldn't ignore it either, couldn't ignore the wetness pooling in your garments as you met eyes with Aegon. The way your footing slipped up when he'd look at you, and Jace would ask if you were okay.

You were reminded of how lovely Jace was, how he treated you like royalty as if you were his already... you didn't like it. You were his fantasy, but he wasnt yours, he was far from it. And every time the silver haired prince would look your way, you were too aware of it.

Aware of how you were dancing with a boy, when you wanted a man. And thats where it began, the wondering touches on your thigh during dinners from Aegon,

The whispers passed off as banter.

"I could make you feel better than him," Aegon whispered into your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

"I could show you the pleasure you yearn for." He whispered again.

What Aegon didnt know, was that you'd fuck yourself to these thoughts every night.

"Come on, pretty girl, I can teach you, that pleasure is made to be mixed with pain." He whispered, and you were unsure of how he knew what you wanted.

And with that, the end of you and Jace began, and the beginning of you and Aegon was rearing its head.

Secret rendezvous where you'd hide in closets inside the keep, Aegons fingers curling against your g spot. "My pretty little whore," He would say, and you would moan. When his hands would go to your throat, demanding you call yourself his, and only his.

He'd make you call out his name, leaving you with subtle marks, knowing just how to fuck with Jace's head. He didn't care because you were his. And Jace needed to learn that, quick.

The nights where you shared passion, but not yet did he take your maidenhead.

"You're mine, all mine. Even if you wed the strong bastard, I will be there on your wedding night, to fuck my seed into your belly, just as I know you want me to so badly."

You hated how right Aegon was, how every time he would tell you these sinful things, you couldn't deny the truth behind his words, you wouldn't dare.

You were his, and he was yours. He reminded you of that, he always did.

Moments where Aegon would spank your bare ass and pull your hair, things you would never let anyone else do to you, except your silver-haired prince.

And on the night of your wedding, Aegon made sure Jace would be too drunk to perform. And he was. Jace passed out before he even considered bedding you, and Aegon took his place.

He rutted into you with such force, made sure you reached your orgasm multiple times before he fucked you, and he fucked you rough and hard, holding your throat as you cried out his name in pleasure.

He took your maidenhead, and bred you full of his seed,

You are his, and he is yours, until the very end.

hey babes, should I do a part 2 to withheld desire?

if so, my ask box is open for any ideas.

Hello, are your requests open? I would like to request modern Aemondxreader if it's possible, please?? 😸

She is Aegon's bestie and he drags her to some big party and of course he disappears after a while leaving her there alone.

The only person she recognizes in the crowd is Aegon's younger brother Aemond, who she always found really boring and annoying 😼 But he will show her he is not boring at all especially when he is dressed in all black and looks sexy as hell 😼😼

I've Got my Eye on you || Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader Pairing: Platonic!Aegon x reader, Romantic!Aemond x reader Summary: Something tells you that he's not the man he was. Warnings: Horny activities, best friends brother trope, grinding, heavy insinuations

You don't know why you even let Aegon drag you to this party. You're dressed clad in a red bodycon dress that hugged all of your curves just right, maximising your assets.

It only took Aegon minutes to see someone who wants his attention, leaving you behind in a room full of people you do not know. You scan the crowd, and your eyes catch onto Aegons little brother. The last time you saw Aemond, he was a nerd who stuck to his books, being silent most of the time. Now, here he is, infront of you, in a tight black shirt that accentuated his biceps, and gave a sneak peak of the muscles under his shirt. Your mouth watered at the sight, and he caught your eyes. Aemond smiles at you, and your stomach tightens. He beckons you over with two fingers, and your mind wanders. What would those fingers feel like deep inside of m- You stop yourself. Thats Aegons little brother. You remind yourself, and approach him. "You, are looking stunning tonight." He says once you're in earshot, "And you've certainly grown up," You reply, even though you're actually younger than him. "Why are you here alone?" Aemond asks, and you shrug. "I was with Aegon, but now he's disappeared somewhere." You say with a bit of a sour look on your face. "As Aegon does, I'll look after you, love." He says in that sweet voice, that made you feel like putty. You nod rapidly, "You're the only one I know here." You say again, sounding the slightest bit nervous. "Would you feel more comfortable going upstairs, then?" Aemond offers, "Yes please." You breathe out, and follow him up the stairs, bringing you into the guest room of this strangers house. "Why did Aegon bring you if you knew no one?" Aemond asks once youre both situated, "He wants to get me laid," You snicker, and Aemond laughs. "Why does he want that?" Aemond questions, shaking his head at Aegons antics. "Haven't been for a while, he wants to shut up my questions." You explain, a tad embarrassed. Aemond laughs, using it as an excuse to put his hand on your knee. "And hows that working out for you?" He speaks in a teasing voice, "Not very well," You groan, and Aemonds hand begins its way up from your knee to your lower thigh, and your core throbs with desperation. "I uh, I think I can help with that little one," Aemond looks at you, eyes blown with lust and his hand ventures to your upper inner thigh. "I think I'd like that," You say, and heatedly kiss him, and his strong hands cup your ass, moving you to be on his lap, which you begin grinding. You pull away, "Yeah, I'd like that." You say with a laugh, feeling his hardening cock beneath you made you insatiable, connecting your lips with his again.

Please make a series for aemond x reader and aegon x reader based on the request you got earlier :)

i think i’m going to!

here is the link for the fic, tell me if i should

That Girl

need more requests guys! i’ve got nothing.

I don’t write for jace or luke but everyone else i do

Can you write Aegon (or Aemond, I can't decide) x reader and one bed trope? 😊😊

One Bed? | Aegon & Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Summary: Only one bed, whatever will the three of you do?

Warnings: Smut, PIV sex, Aegon is a perv, Aemonds a subtle perv

A/N: I’m back, random little burst of inspiration came over me

You had no clue how you ended up here. Venturing through the streets with your two best friends, Aegon and Aemond. It was night, yet you hadnt found what you were looking for.

Checking into a Tavern for the night, you found yourself at the door of the only available room. Yet the owner neglected to mention the lack of beds, except for one double bed.

Aegon smirked, "Looks like you've got to sleep with me, sweetheart." He grins, and you make a fake gag.

"Aemonds here too, y'know." You reply snarkily, and Aegon grins further.

"He can sleep on the floor.” Aegon chuckles, and Aemond looks at him,

“If anyone’s sleeping on the floor it’s you.” Aemond snaps in return, causing Aegon to sneer at him.

“We can all fit, I can squish.” Aleria says, discarding herself of her shoes, and dress, to which she swapped into a night dress behind a curtain for changing.

Aegon and Aemond gape at the slight shadow of your nude body, and Aegon let’s put a quiet whistle, Aemond hitting him with his elbow.

The two follow suit, getting into their nightclothes, Aemond offering you his coat to sleep in due to the cold weather.

You gladly accepted it, and the three of you managed to just fit in the bed.

The two boys were squished up against you, not that you could deny the way that made you feel.

Throughout the night, it got harder to ignore the lingering touches on your body when you’d shift positions, Aemonds hand on your inner thigh and Aegons arm under your neck.

Aegon let his hot breath hit your neck, and you shivered, much to the two brothers amusement. You were in Aemonds coat, there was no way you were cold.

Aemonds slender hand traced shapes on your inner thigh, and Aegon began pressing kisses to your neck.

You couldn’t believe this was happening. Your heart was racing, and finally, Aegon broke the silence.

“Touch her, brother.” Aegons voice comes out, “She wants it, don’t you, little one?” Aegons voice was low, deep with lust and desire.

“I.. I do.” You whispered, and Aemond wasted no time in sitting up, forcefully parting your legs to which you moan.

Aegon chuckles, standing from the bed to give them more space, Aemond then lifted the night gown, and you wriggled out of your underwear to help him.

“Do you think our sweet girl can take a finger?” Aemond asks Aegon, and Aegon shrugs.

“Let’s find out.” Aegon suggests, and you nod. Aemonds finger goes expertly to rub at your clit, and your hips jolt up into his finger.

“So pathetic,” Aemond tsks, and you whine, he attacks his nub with his tongue, and your hands go to his silver hair, gripping it with force.

Aegon hums in pleasure, and you notice he’s stroking himself. You let out a deep breath at the sight, and he moves closer, stroking your hair to prepare you as Aemond sticks a finger in.

“Fuck!” You exclaim, and Aegon shushes you.

“My love, as much as I’d love to hear you scream, we can do that later.” Aegon speaks gently, and you nod. Aegon kisses you to muffle your noises.

Your thighs wrap around Aemonds neck as his finger rubs the rough patch in your cunt, your spot. He has you mewling into Aegons mouth, a submissive mess.

Aemond pulls away and so does Aegon, you cry out in disappointment.

Aemond pulls out his cock, it’s fully hard, and it’s long, dripping with precum, his tip is a light purple from arousal, veins look to be pulsing.

“This is gonna hurt,” Aemond speaks, and you nod.

“I can handle it.” You speak confidently.

“Good girl” Aemonds tantalising voice came as he slowly inched into you. The feeling was painful, it was a burning sensation as you were stretched, and you grit your teeth as he rested.

“Taking him so good,” Aegon speaks, still stroking his thick cock, angled over your chest.

The pain subsides after a few moments, and you’re consumed by your desire.

“Move, please Aem.” You beg, and he does that, erratically thrusting into you at an upward angle, his cock grazing your spot in a mind numbing sensation.

Your moans are muffled by your hand, and Aegon places your other around his cock, and you learn from him, gripping it as he wished and stroking, learning from what he was doing earlier, and his reactions.

Your pussy was throbbing, and cheeks flushed, Aemond angled your legs over his shoulders, and the assault on your pussy made you insatiable, bucking against him.

“ ‘M close!” You squeak, and Aemonds quick to speed up.

“You’re so tight around me,” He grunts, and you let out a long, erotic moan as your release comes closer.

All it takes is one extra hard thrust from Aemond for your eyes to be rolling back, walls clenching around him and a deep moan coming from your chest.

Aegon moaned along with you, the sight of you cumming was too much, and his seed was spilled all over your chest,

Aemond, however, emptied his seed inside you, placing your legs down and letting out a loud groan as he leaned over your body, a few weak thrusts as he pulled out.

“How was that, little one?” Aemond asks as he strokes your hair, and you smile.

“Too good,” You shakily say, your legs twitching from your orgasm.

Aegon, being the degenerate he is, uses your nightgown to clean the cum from your chest and you gasp,

“Aeg! I was going to sleep in that.” You pout, and Aemond looks at him, humour and confusion in his eyes.

“You can sleep naked, you can’t be shy now.” Aegon speaks with humour and you groan.

The two boys crawled into bed, both sticking to your side. They pulled the blanket over all of you and Aegon fell asleep with his head in the crook of your neck, and Aemond fell asleep with his arm around your stomach, holding you close.

WIP GAME (tagged by @eddiemadmunson <3)

• Rules: Post the names of all the files in your wip folder regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet of it or tell them something about it...

That Girl. - Aemond/Aegon x Reader (series)

Aemonds girl - Aemond x Reader (main) Jace x reader (side)

Keeping Up with the Targaryens - series Aemond/Aegon x reader

i have so little at the moment, but these are my current WIPS not counting requests.

tagging: @valeskafics

WIP

Thanks for the tag, @river9noble <3

WIP GAME

Rules: Post the names of all the files in your wip folder regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet of it or tell them something about it.

I love it. This is such a cool idea, and being asked about it is a motivating manner to start new stories! By alphabetical order, I currently have:

- Angel shoulder verse [Jaysteph & Riddlebat]

- Blood and Chocolate [Scriddler & teenager!Stephanie]

- Cute Valentine [Riddlebat]

- Detective Ed x Batman 

- Draft [character study]

- Iron Riddle - next [Edward & Tony Stark]

- Kiddo Steph

- Mermaid [Riddlebat]

- Orphan Superman [Clark & Edward]

- Peculiar Children [Riddlebat & batkids]

- Peter Pan [Riddlebat & batkids]

- Roguekids [villains & batkids]

- Split [Scriddler & teenager!Stephanie]

- Stephanie in Riddleland

- Teen Riddlebat

- Wayne Side Story [Jaysteph & Riddlebat]

- Wayward Sisters [Stephanie & Enigma & Edward]

Notes:

- I decide not to include my current novels in progress which already have posted chapters and WILL (eventually) be updated on AO3… soon? maybe? XD. Thus these are strictly stories not started yet… even if some have been heavily implied during former fics already ;)

- Everything I write contains Edward Nygma no matter what. It’s the rule number 1. Then it very often contains Stephanie Brown and Jason Todd (out of 17, 14 of the stories above give them a share of the spotlight), plus Bruce Wayne. And Jonathan Crane hanging out never far behind ;)

- Ask me anything, I’d love to give you an insight / answer a question or see what you guessed from just a draft title ^^

Edit: alright, the rules said titles only… but I just returned to this post to add between [-] the main ship / main dynamics in the story when the titles are very unclear, because I feel like that might influence your choice if you want to ask me about one of these WIPs. Enjoy!

If they want to share their drafts as well, I’ll tag some writers I love: @tobithetobi @reine-du-sourire @sigma-time-lord @local-roro @susspirria @korereapers 

And anyone who’d like to give it a try :)

MASTERLIST

hey, i’m sav. i write for the asoiaf universe.

be wary, most of these are smut! i write for...

aemond

aegon

daemon

helaena

rhaenyra

alicent

Aemond Targaryen

One bed?

there is only one bed, and three of them.

Withheld Desire

aemond x best friend reader bang at a party

I’ve got my eye on you

Aegon drags reader to a party and she catches Aemonds eye.

That girl

aemond and aegon meet their childhood friend for the first time in a while, and she’s grown.

Knight in shining armour

aemond catches reader when she falls.

Wicked Game

aemond has an infatuation with aegons wife, and she returns his affections.

Forget Honor | 2 |

aegon and aemond both forget their honour when it comes to their girl.

Sweet Thing | 2 |

aemond delves into his deepest desire, to be needed, thus, he find a sugar baby.

Compensation

Your husbands brother takes over.

Aegon Targaryen

Fantasies

jace doesn’t meet readers needs, but Aegon does.

Caught

reader knew aegon was risky, but not this risky.

One bed

there is only one bed, and three of them.

That girl

aemond and aegon meet their childhood friend for the first time in a while, and she’s grown.

Best Friends Brother

in which aegon teaches innocent Helaenas best friend how to kiss.

Forget Honor | 2 |

aegon and aemond both forget their honour when it comes to their girl.

Daemon Targaryen

You in my helm

daemon sure does love seeing the reader in his helm.