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targaryen-dynasty · 4 months

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SEMPITERNAL.

final part of Precious Delights

Dad!Maegor Targaryen x niece!Reader

WARNINGS: SEXUAL CONTENT—MINORS DNI; canon typical incest/targcest, p in v, breeding kink, slight praise kink, kinda medieval daddy kink (?), size kink, lactation kink, lactating, pregnancy, pregnant sex

WORDS: 4.3 K

NOTES: Precious Delights comes to an end with this. I‘m a bit sad, because I really started to love the series, but I think I've managed to end it in a good way. Thanks to everyone that joined me on this journey.

It was going to be a day of revelry. The construction of the Red Keep had been completed, and your husband found it fitting to throw a feast in celebration for those who had taken part in it.

Taking on a fatherly aura the moment your twins took their first breaths, Maegor didn’t want the festivities to start without his precious family present, even though you were meant to depart for your chambers once they started to indulge themselves in bawdier things.

“You have to sit still if you want Mama to finish the braid quickly,” you warned the little girl sitting in front of you, though there was no sharpness to your tone, knowing you could not expect your daughter to sit still for so long. She was just three summers old after all, and just as excited about the feast as everybody else.

Your own flowing locks loosely cascaded down your back and shoulders, not combed and unbraided as you had been taking care of your children the whole morning, often taking their care into your own hands as they were a blessing from the Gods above. And, while Visenya was clad in a black dress that once belonged to you when you were around the same age, your swollen curves still were concealed by a white nightgown.

The raspy chuckle you heard, as your little girl didn’t remain still long enough for you to finish the task properly, prompted you to turn your head towards your husband, sitting in a stool not too far away while the barber tended to his hair and neatly trimmed beard.

You raised an eyebrow in innocent enquiry at the sound, which briefly changed into something different while your eyes flickered over his frame. He was dressed, but barely. His cloak, and most pieces of his wardrobe, still were draped over a chair across the room from where he sat. His torso was exposed from the waist up, covered only by the leather breeches he wore.

Maegor had a grin on his lips – entirely different to the expression he usually wore around servants and maids. In the confines of your chambers, he often lowered his guard, not too concerned about what others thought was proper. But in the presence of other people, he was always focused on remaining harsh and cold, wanting to display his dominance and power.

“Have you been at this all morning?” Maegor asked, and you couldn’t help but notice the way his eyes trailed over your body just like yours had done before. A hint of nervousness filled your veins, and you scolded yourself internally for your thoughts to stray towards things you should not be thinking at that moment.

Not bothering to hide the blush that covered your cheeks, you finally replied. “Yes, I started at first light, not long after you left. I was hoping to finish before sundown, but this little one…,” you emphasized the word, causing your daughter to glance over her shoulder, flashing her father a big smile, “... has other ideas.”

You continued to braid her hair, trying to stop the braid from becoming too tight whilst also keeping the little princess’ fidgeting at bay. The barber was done trimming Maegor’s beard at this point, packing his utensils and scurrying off at once.

“You would think that at three she would be more disciplined,” you sighed, smiling softly at your daughter. “But she takes after you.” Briefly pressing your lips into a thin line, you wondered if you had overindulged yourself in the bantering the moment the words slipped past your lips, and if Maegor knew you were just joking. Partially, at least.

Visenya was the spitting image of your husband in more ways than one. Not when it came to the looks, as she was taking after you in that, but her rambunctious spirit was most definitely one of the attributes she shared with him. Aerion, however, was a different story. His looks resembled Maegor’s more and more with each passing day, while he had inherited your gentle presence.

As Maegor chuckled, your frayed nerves calmed again. “You might have been better off dressing yourself before attempting to braid her hair,” he jested.

“And I thought you might have helped, instead of sitting there and making witty comments,” you replied, glancing at Maegor, and trying to disguise your slight frustration as playfulness, directing your husband to your current predicament.

You knew you couldn’t expect the King to take care of his children, not on an important day like this, but you also knew that Maegor more often than not had deferred his duties in the past in order to bond with the twins.

Not wanting to admit defeat, you continued to braid your daughter’s hair, fighting against her lack of patience, and trying to finish before she kicked the entire braid off her head. Eventually, you were successful, pulling the braid into a bun behind little Visenya’s head.

Maegor rose from his seat, and walked over to where you sat behind your daughter. He focused his attention on her, admiring her and your work for a moment, a soft sigh escaping him as he scooped her up into his arms.

You smiled at the sight, your heart swelling in your chest, more so as you watched the gentleness with which he handled her. In a feeble attempt, Visenya tried to escape his bear hug, grumbling slightly as he snuggled her head and smelt her hair. It was the same as whenever you did it, but something in your children’s scents was just too intoxicating.

Tilting his head back, Visenya’s little hands grazed over his beard, seemingly enjoying the feeling of the coarse hairs under her fingers just as much as you did, before she placed them at the sides of his thick neck for stability.

He smiled softly at your daughter, a smile that scarcely graced his features when looking at you. It was gentle and loving, and whenever his eyes met yours, his expression was tinted with desire and longing.

“Does Mama not know that your Papa is a skilled swordsman, and not a hairdresser?” Maegor asked your daughter in a playful tone, swaying her in his arms and pressing his lips to her temple. She was giggling uncontrollably, barely comprehending what he said, clearly keening at his affection and attention.

When the doors to your chambers opened, the wet nurse came in with a styled and dressed prince at her side. Getting Aerion ready had taken you one hour at most, and was far less complicated.

Upon spotting his father carrying his sister in his strong arms, the boy all but barrelled towards him in jealousy. The wet nurse failed to pull him back, leaving him as he tugged on the leg of Maegor‘s leather breeches, demanding to be picked up as well.

You used the opportunity and leaned past Maegor, trying to fix a stray strand of Aerion’s silver hair – but the excited boy didn't have any of it.

“My my, look who is here,” Maegor said with a smile, kneeling down while carrying Visenya on his hip.

The boy hugged his father tightly, squeezing him with all the strength he could muster with his tiny arms, which left Maegor chuckling. You could not feel any greater joy than seeing the brute of a man, mostly known for his harshness, so soft and full of affection for his children.

“I want up, Papa. I want up, now,” the boy demanded, wrapping his arms around Maegor’s neck. The sight was adorable, and you could see on your husband’s face just how much he basked in your children’s affection.

“Up you say, mh?” Placing a hand under the boy’s bottom, your husband lifted him up with ease, carrying both children on his hips.

You sighed, bringing a hand to your swollen belly as you planted your feet firmly on the ground, and slowly rose from your seat. It was evident Maegor had wanted to help you, to reach out to support you, but with both arms filled with your twins, he could merely offer you his forearm for you to hold onto.

This pregnancy was not as woeful as your first one, truly a blessing from the Gods above. And your husband was more generous this time as well, allowing you to walk the gardens and the keep all by yourself, despite it taking you a bit longer to be with child again. The pregnancy in general was not that strenuous for your body, though your breasts and bump had swollen to ridiculous proportions already, and you barely exceeded the fifth moon.

Approaching them, you brought both hands up to their cheeks, the pad of your thumbs brushing along their soft skin as they leaned into your touch. “That is enough, you two,” you hummed, smiling softly. “You must go with Erena now. We have guests arriving soon, and Mama is not ready yet. It would not do to keep our guests waiting.”

The twins pouted, but with neither you nor Maegor being too lax with them, they knew there was no chance they could stay for any longer. You motioned for the wet nurse to approach, before you cupped your children’s faces one by one, and pressed a kiss to their foreheads.

“Aye, you have heard your mama,” Maegor said, having your back. His eyes had taken over a half-lidded look as they were all but glued to your features, your lips mostly, watching you and admiring your motherly aura.

He put both of them down, but not without ruffling your boy’s hair in a way that had you taking in a deep breath, trying to keep the anger of him destroying Aerion’s hairdo at bay.

Clinging to the wet nurse's hands, they left the room at once, no doubt going to their chambers for her to read them a book. There were merely two servants around you at this point, stopping in their tracks as Maegor’s deep voice rang out. “Leave us,” he ordered sternly, his usual demeanor crawling back to the surface.

It was the side of him your children were not meant to see, at least for now, and with Maegor’s paw coming to your swollen belly once you were alone, the softness returned. Cupping your bump gently, he looked down at it in awe.

“Are you ready for the feast?” you asked, smiling softly at him before your eyes trailed over the expanse of his bare chest.

“I am, for as long as you’re by my side,” he said, his other hand trailing over the slight curve of your waist. Both his hands now rested where the swell was, feeling the gentle curve of your bump. When he spoke again, you could hear a tinge of jealousy in his voice, his words making you chuckle. “But I fear the crowd will pay more attention to you than me.”

Bringing your hands up to his face, you cupped it just like you had done with the twins before, your thumbs brushing the stubble on his jaw. His eyes softened, fixing yours. “I can not wait for you to be with my fourth child,” he spoke with a mischievous grin.

You raised a brow. “Oh, only if you will be the one carrying the babe,” you retorted, the tease in your voice and sparkle in your eyes hinting at something only he would understand. “I doubt this pregnancy will spare me from the terrible birthing pains, and I do not know whether I can endure it for a third time.”

Maegor sighed at your words, his hands running over your sides once more, before one moved to the back of your head, threading into your thick locks. Gently tugging your head back, he leaned down to press a kiss to your jaw.

“Would you like me to try?” he chuckled against your skin, pulling back just enough for you to spot the smirk on his lips. His tone had taken on a huskier edge, one that always forced you to squeeze your thighs together. “The Gods will be on our side this time. There will be only one babe, I am sure.”

Licking his lips, he kept his grip on your hair, and pulled your face towards his. You anticipated a kiss, but alas, he kept a few inches between your faces, your heavy breaths fanning over each other's lips.

You tried to chase him for a kiss, but Maegor kept your head in place. “I hope you know the dangers of challenging a Targaryen man,” he teased.

Oh, you did know. More than once had he proven that it was just not wise to challenge him. It was impossible for him to resist a good challenge, no matter how bold or brazen. Your late brother Aegon was the perfect example, and also the reason he and his dragon Quicksilver were slain by your uncle in the Battle Beneath the Gods Eye.

Slinging your arms around his thick neck, you kept your eyes locked with his, a mischievous glint flickering in them. “I shall take my chances,” you replied, biting your bottom lip.

That was the last bit that caused his resolve to crumble. Bowing his head forwards, he pressed his lips to yours fervently, void of any gentleness. Your hair was released, only for him to snake one arm around your waist and bring the other to your arse. Cupping it, it was easy for him to lift you up, holding your body to his in a cradle carry with your lips still connected.

You pulled back from him to chuckle breathlessly. “We can’t… not now,” you laughed, bringing a hand to his bare chest as if you meant to stop him. “Our guests will soon arrive.”

But he was not having any of it. “Oh, is that so?” he taunted, slowly walking towards your marital bed, shrugging his shoulders when he came to a stop. “Let them, they can wait.”

You stared up at Maegor with wide eyes as he placed you down on the bed, one of your hands cupping your bump, while the other just rested on your chest, your full breasts hard and heavy. He stood at the side of the bed, and began to undo the laces in the front of his breeches.

As much as you wanted to lock your gaze with his, your eyes always trailed down to where his fingers were fumbling with the laces, your breathing growing heavier and your mouth running dry.

Maegor was the most handsome of all men, and his other skills were unparalleled. Even though his cock was the only one you had seen, you knew Maegor was very well endowed, and probably possessed one of the most beautiful cocks in Westeros.

Unable to wait any longer, you tugged the skirts of your nightgown up as much as your bump allowed, and shimmied your way out of your smallclothes. Your swollen belly was obvious, but you hadn’t thought of it as so obtrusive. But your husband didn’t seem to mind, if anything, he was even more determined and motivated to have his way with you.

Maegor eyed you just as hungrily, and his jaw set as he noticed the slight glistening of your womanhood as you spread your legs. You were eager and ready to take him.

Stripping the last of his clothes off, Maegor joined you in bed, making himself at home between your parted legs. Leaning over you, careful not to put any of his weight on your bump, he planted kisses to the side of your neck, trailing up to your lips. His large frame completely covered your significantly smaller one, making you feel protected and safe as your fingers entangled into his silver strands, tugging on them gently and keeping his lips locked on yours.

His cock was hard, pressing snugly against your soaked womanhood, sure to coat the underside of it and the sac of his stones in your arousal. You couldn’t help but to grind your hips against him, rutting your swollen folds against his hard member which prompted him to groan against your lips.

“Be still, would you,” Maegor scolded, but his tone was void of any harshness.

But you couldn’t. Not when your body craved to be filled by him so badly. And Maegor seemed to notice your despair. He sat back on his haunches, looking down at you. The pout on your lips had him smirking smugly. “You have teased me long enough,” you whimpered, innocently batting your eyelashes at him. “It’s what I deserve after this strenuous morning.”

Raising his brow, Maegor sighed – he was admitting his defeat. “I shall make it quick for you then.”

His hands roamed over your bump, the white silk allowing them to slide over it with ease. He then proceeded to lean to the side, fetching one of the pillows next to you and folding it in half.

Maegor hooked one hand beneath your knee, and used that grip to lift your hips, slipping the pillow beneath them to slightly raise your body for him, and make your back arch in a way that was not uncomfortable. It caused your swollen breasts to spill from the low neckline of your nightgown, the white silk dampened and darkened by the droplets of milk that had oozed out of your hardened buds.

“Let me take care of you, mama,” Maegor drawled, his dark blown eyes traveling over your frame. Despite most of your body still concealed by your nightgown, he couldn’t be any more attracted to and aroused by you than he was in that moment.

Gripping the base of his cock, he used your arousal to tug on him once, twice, before aligning the tip with your throbbing entrance. He was completely focused and careful as he pushed inside, moving slow enough for you to feel every vein and ridge of his cock drag along your walls.

“Gods be good,” you moaned, enjoying the feeling of being stretched out by him, bliss taking over your senses.

Your husband remained upright, his hands on your knees as he started with a slow, deep grinding. Your smaller one found his and held onto him for stability and to feed your longing for his touch, your eyes never leaving his. You felt the familiar heat building in your belly quicker than usual, the coarse hair around his member grazing over your sensitive pearl every time he moved and fueling the pleasure you felt.

“You truly were made for me,” he grunted, a large hand moving to splay over your bump, covering most of it. “The most beautiful woman in the realm, swollen with my seed and carrying my children.” With a blush covering your cheeks, you bit your bottom lip, stifling a wanton moan.

Noticing the color on your cheeks, Maegor smirked, slightly increasing the pace of his hips, his cock hitting deep enough to drag over the spot that had you whining and whimpering. You were squeezing him so well, making it impossible for him to keep going for much longer – not that you had time to do so anyways.

Your pearl throbbed with anticipation, and your cunt clenched and convulsed around his member, announcing your approaching peak and coaxing grunts and groans to escape his parted lips.

You tipped your head back into the pillows, unraveling beneath him as you closed your eyes in bliss.

“So good,” he groaned, reaching to rub your bump before trailing his hand up to your full breasts. “I shall fuck you full of my seed, and bed you until your womb runs dry.” You weren’t sure if it were his words, the thoughts accompanying them or the sensual rolling of his hips, but your brain went fuzzy with pleasure, clouding each thought to the point you couldn't think straight and answer him.

His big hand tugged the neckline of your nightgown down to the point it ripped at the seam, freeing your breasts from their confines. It could have been a growl or a groan rumbling in his chest – either way it sounded threatening and dangerous, lured out by the sight of your leaking breasts. Clamping one of your darkened buds between his calloused fingers, he squeezed it to force some more droplets of milk out of it, coating his fingers in it.

Bringing them up to his lips, he sucked them clean with a groan, only for him to pay equal attention to your other breast not long after. It was not much, but already helped enough to relieve some of the pressure and ease the fullness.

You bit your bottom lip and started up at him with half-lidded eyes, a teasing grin on your lips. “Want to get your fill, papa?” you asked, feigned innocence weaving itself through your tone.

Maegor panted heavily, his eyes glued to where his fingers were milking you. “You little minx,” his husky voice drawled, interrupted by strained breaths. He was close. “Later.”

The coil in your belly tightened each time his body rutted against your pearl in combination with his fingers on your breasts, and it eventually snapped and allowed your peak to wash over your body with a loud cry. Maegor watched you mesmerized, relishing in the way your cunt fluttered around his cock with relief etched onto your features.

He seized the opportunity, and bowed his bull-like body forwards, placing one hand next to your frame to support his weight as he increased the pace and intensity of his thrusts. Your cunt melted around his hard member, sucking him in with each snap of his hips.

You couldn't deny the slight aching that started to blossom between your legs, growing more apparent with the repercussions of your peak slowly subsiding, but you knew Maegor was racing for completion at this point, his breathing ragged and his jaw set.

“When this babe is born…,” he rambled, panting in between the words. Strands of his blonde hair fell in front of his eyes, a sheen of sweat on his skin. “… I shall fuck another into you. I can not get enough of watching your body swell with my seed, making it clear to everyone that you are mine.”

“Y-Yes, Gods, please.” The flush on your cheeks grew hotter, matching the growing volume of your whimpers and moans. Suddenly, the thought of another babe growing inside of you didn’t seem too bad.

It was with a final thrust of his hips that his body finally relented, his cock spending in a burst so strong Maegor stilled his movements. You felt him twitch and throb inside of you, spilling his seed and painting your walls as you milked him for every drop.

The sight was divine. His muscular body crouched forwards slightly, blonde strands framing his chiseled features, beads of sweat highlighting his flexing muscles, and his jaw set tight enough you feared for his teeth.

If you weren’t with his child already, you would have mounted him to make sure his seed would bear fruit.

Every muscle in his body was tensed, until he eventually collapsed into the vacant spot right next to you, careful not to put any weight on your swollen belly. His flaccid cock slipped out of you in the process, causing you to pout at the sudden feeling of emptiness.

But you were quickly distracted when you looked to the side, studying him carefully. The blissful smile on his lips sent heat straight through your veins again, reigniting the fire and longing for more. You traced your fingertips over his sharp cheekbones, while his hand had remained splayed over your bump in a protective manner.

Moving to lie on his back with his arms crossed behind his head, mischievous thoughts filled your head, inspired the moment you glanced down at his thick cock. Teasing and arousing you was a weapon only Maegor possessed, and he wielded it so perfectly – intended or not.

“Mh, our guests may have to wait a little longer,” you said, voice laced with desire.

It was a bit troublesome for you to get up, but once you managed to do so, you moved to straddle your husband’s hips, his cock trapped between your soaked womanhood and his lower stomach.

He watched you with an eyebrow raised, but made no move to stop you. You rutted your hips over his length, coating him in your mixed essences and coaxing him to full hardness again.

Maegor propped himself up on his elbows, a groan leaving his lips, and brought his paws up to graze over your sides. He understood what you wanted, and was eager to give you just that. With unsurprising strength, he fisted the silk of your nightgown and tore it in half, exposing your whole body to him.

You gasped, more because of the chill air hitting your hot skin than the shock of the sudden movements.

Licking a flat stripe over the curve of your full breast before wrapping his lips around your hard bud, Maegor sucked on it a few times to swallow some of your milk. You moaned at the stimulation, tipping your head back as your cunt clenched around nothing.

He pulled back with a string of saliva connecting his swollen lips and your skin, glancing up at you mischievously. And when he spoke, his voice was husky and strained, teasing you with a smug smirk on his lips. “I think they will understand.”

Maegor Taglist: @hypocritic-trash-baby @watercolorskyy @xxxkat3xxx @baedebnam @simonedk @heavenhatesme @valyrianglass

General Taglist: @heimtathurs @croatianprincess @nina2697 @sirenangelroyal @malfoytargaryen @thetaygaryen @wintrr13 @winter-soldier-101 @kyuupidwrites @boofy1998 @thekinslayersswordhand @sagelovesreading @jiminie-08 @doublesparrows @at-a-rax-ia @fan-goddess @recorddust @tsujifreya @melsunshine @docmartinis @drwstarkeyy @kazuyatokue @nockerin @moonlightfoxx @bbgmonsay @thatmysteriousblog @ashovertheriver @black-dread @nothingqueens @urmomsgirlfriend1 @lovelykhaleesiii @darylandbethfanforever9 @snowystark @goldyfishsstuff @connorsui

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msmorningstaarr · 4 months

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let me fill you up | Jaime Lannister x F!Targaryen reader

ao3 | masterlist

Pairing: Jaime Lannister x F!Targaryen reader

Summary: You, a Targaryen princess were married into the Lannister fold to ensure the alliance between the two houses, ensuring your eldest brother’s claim to the Iron Throne. Now, Lord Jaime makes your days filled with happiness and makes you eager to present him babies.

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: rhaegar wins AU, no targcest, smuff, fluff, breeding kink, praising kink, a lot of pet names (sweet girl, princess, love), reader has no physical description besides the silvery white targaryen hair, creampie, oral (f receiving), a very devoted husband commited to your pleasure, smut, sex;

a/n: Happy new year! I had posted I wanted to write something like that and it's been a while since I want to write something other than holy and heathen because I must admit I'm not very satisfied with what I've been writing lately. Some validation kudos, comments and reblogs would be very important to me, seriously :') I’ve been thinking in turning this into a small series but I’m not so sure. Could you give me your thoughts on this too? please, enjoy your reading!

Taglist: @princessanglophile @hiroikegawa @hiraethrhapsody

You are sitting surrounded by your maids and children on a breezy night, covered with a fur coat and a crimson silk dress under it. Attentively, you go stitch by stitch and slowly form a lion, sigil of your husband’s house. Ever since Robert’s Rebellion ended and your brother, King Rhaegar Targaryen won, you became promised to the former knight of the Kingsguard, now Lord Jaime Lannister. Life in the lion’s den was not difficult, once Lord Tywin treated her with the most kindness and Jaime was still coming out of his shell. At first, he was your sworn sword in King’s Landing and spent plenty of time together in an unbalanced relationship. Now, you two are sharing a bed after a tumultuous year of war and destruction, as equals. In the beginning, you were sceptical about marrying into the Lannister household, but as the months went by, you found yourself drowned at him. Jaime is careful, gentle and kind. He brings you a small dandelion every morning once he knows it reminds you of home.

His only quirk was the strange attachment to his sister, Lady Cersei. But after being sent to Dorne to marry Prince Oberyn of House Martell and getting distant from each other, your relationship with your husband seemed to finally thrive.

“It appears to be beautiful, my lady.” Said one of her maids, taking care of your youngest son, a small silvery blonde figure of two years of age.

“A bright lion handkerchief for Jaime to carry with him.” You reply, admiring your piece of work. “Do you believe your father will like it, sweetling?” You then ask your eldest daughter, an adorable child of four. Your daughter eagerly nods her head and wraps her hands around one of your fingers to pull the fabric closer to her eyes.

“Dada will love it, mama!” The little one exclaimed, spinning around with the kerchief on her tiny hands.

“What will I love, if I’m allowed to ask?” A tall, blonde figure shows up in your private bedchambers, wearing a classic Westerland attire with a crimson fabric and intricate strings of gold shaped into the sleeves and collar. You smile sweetly to Jaime as he approaches you and grabs your middle child to hold in his arms.

“Papa!” The blonde little girl runs towards her father to embrace his legs and your maids stand up to bow to their lord.

“Have you missed me, dear?” Jaime asked and the fussy children eagerly nodded at him, embracing their father even more. Sometimes, seeing Jaime being so loving and kind towards your children simply melted your heart. You felt the urgency to kiss him and dig your fingers onto his bright hair, begging him for another child. Your cunt ached in pleasure to the thought of Jaime pumping his seed inside of you. You were still young and could bear many more children.

“Mm-rrhm…” You scoffed. “I have missed you too, husband.”

The three children giggled and the child on his arms hid his face on the crook of Jaime’s neck. The eldest covered her laugh with her tiny hands and the youngest beamed along their siblings. Jaime came closer to you and caressed your cheeks with his free hand. Then, a single and gentle kiss he places over your forehead, making your heart flutters with love and passion.

“I have missed you too, my love.” Jaime said, passing his fingertips on your chin and smiling at you.

Your maids quickly stood up and bowed at their overlord as a sign of respect. “Excuse me, my lord, my lady,” Said the servant girl. “Let us take the children so you can rest.”

“But I want to stay with papa!” Said the elder daughter, pouting and crossing her arms. The other two children whined and complained along, but you lowered into their level whilst Jaime talked to the youngest on his arm.

“Sweetlings,” She said, caressing their cheeks. “Your father is rather tired after riding for so long. Go with her, I promise you, your siblings, me and your father will have plenty of time together on the morrow. Is that understood, my loves?”

“I can take you to ride a horse tomorrow and even let you eat lemon cakes before super. What do you think?” Jaime asked, delivering the fussy child from his arms to the other maid. In unison, the three infants agreed and left disappointed. Once you and your husband were alone in your bedchambers, Jaime smiled at you gallantly. You embrace him intimately and are finally able to feel the warmth of his muscular body and feel the softness of his golden hair. His lips reach yours and in a whirlwind of sensations, your cunt is already dripping in anticipation just by a simple touch coming from him. Once he breaks the kiss, he keeps holding you by your waist and gazing at you with admiration.

“You have been gone for too long, love.” You say, passing your fingertips on his lips. He smiles and gives you a peck on the lips before speaking.

“I had duties with your brother, Our Grace King Rhaegar, sweet girl.” Jaime replies, pulling her out gently and grabbing the fabric she embroidered for him.

“I hope you like it, I made it just for you.” You point out, joining your hands to follow him. He keeps smiling as he observes attentively the intricate work you did.

“I shall cherish it and take it wherever I go, dragon princess.” He replied, folding and putting the kerchief in one of his pockets. You giggle as you hear him calling you ‘dragon princess’, a custom he chose to never abandon as a form to remember the late days of their relationship “I wish I had more time to be around and play with the children, I have been missing them and you.”

“They made drawings every day and left it on your desk at your office.” You reply, walking to the window and being followed by him.

“I will make sure to have them guarded in our chambers. Safe as our gold.” He says, hugging you from behind and kissing your neck lightly. You beam in ecstasy feeling his body smother you into a comforting embrace and full missing him.

“Sometimes I still cannot believe we are wedded to each other. You were my sworn shield in King’s Landing!” You exclaim as his hand caresses your empty belly and it tingles by his touch. He grins at your words and says.

“Most people are not so lucky to know your spouse before the wedding day. I consider myself the most lucky man in the world because I could be in your acquaintance from so long ago.” He replies, falling his head on the crook of your neck.

You turn around to be face to face with Jaime, feeling the cold breeze of the rock hitting your back and giving you small shocks as Jaime caresses your back, making you experience a thermal shock and shudder to his touch.

“I feel very lucky to be your wife, Jaime. Most women are not so fortunate to have such a kind, loving and handsome husband.” You mutter as he strokes your hair, in awe with your beauty.

“I guess we are fortunate to be together after so many troubles in war. We even brought new lives into this world to paint a new, brightful history.” He replies, caressing your womb. You stare at his fingers passing up and down your belly and glances at him with a sweet smile.

“And we could have more, love. I must admit I feel empty for so long and I want to give you more children… I know I can give you an entire army of your own. Half lion, half dragon. Unstoppable creatures.”

“You feel empty, love?” He asks, smirking and you eagerly agree with him. “Then allow me to fill you up…” Jaime finished, slowly undoing the intricate laces of your dress to reveal your bare skin under the crimson fabric. In response, you open his attire slowly and little by little his white tunic appears to her eyes.

By this point, your cunt is already sore in anticipation for the moment about to happen and clenches around nothing once he pushes the last section of string holding your garment, releasing you from the pressure tightening your upper body. Jaime pushes down your dress and your underwear is now on display for him, which makes him bite his lip and eagerly take down your white camisole to show him your bare body. You moan as he squeezes your breast and pinches your nipples whilst kissing you. You quickly take off his own undershirt to show off his chest.

“So eager is my dragon princess.” He playfully says, leading you to bed and carefully laying you down. With devotion, he starts to kiss your feet, legs and knees, his hands roaming through your thighs and hips. “Spread your legs for me, little dragon.”

You part your legs, obeying his soft command. “So wet… I can see you truly missed me, my love.” He says, kissing your inner thighs as your body squirms in pleasure before he reaches your intimacy.

“Oh… I have missed you so much, my lion.” You moan your words as he kisses your groyne and passes his fingers lightly over your clit, making your womb tremble and convulse to his touch.

“I can see that, just as I missed you, my dragon princess. Do I have permission to give you a lord’s kiss?” He asks and you only nod in response, making Jaime wet his lips with his own saliva before diving into your dripping core and you to scream involuntarily as his tongue and lips eat you up with full desire. Jaime circles his tongue around your clit and roam around your entire intimacy, making your hips bounce onto his direction. It was his costume to make you come every time before he would be inside of you, now could not be different.

You feel your body explode as if someone threw you into dragon fire as Jaime relentlessly pleases you, making magic with his tongue. Skillfully, he explores your intimate area inch by inch with eagerness, making you dig your fingers on his golden curls, pulling him closer to your cunt and you contorses your body urging for more. Tears of pleasure fall off as you feel goosebumps once you realise you are close to your climax.

As the intensity builds, Jaime's movements become more deliberate, pushing you closer to the edge of bliss. Your breath hitches, and your fingers entwine in his golden locks, urging him on. The world narrows down to the pleasure he provides, the connection between you deepening with every passing moment.

When the climax finally crashes over you, Jaime doesn't relent. He continues to caress your sensitive core with his tongue, prolonging the sweet release. Your body shudders with pleasure, and you feel the bond between you and Jaime reaching new heights.

“Husband…” You try to stop him and give yourself some time to take a breath, but Jaime does not back off and part your legs once more, holding it as he keeps licking, kissing and sucking your pussy.

“No no, wife… let me please you and bring you to climax once more…” He cuts your words and gently goes back, but now he plays with his fingers on your clit, with far less pressure and slowly draws circles around it, taking soft moans from you. Jaime rises to hover over you, a wicked glint in his eyes. His fingers trace patterns on your flushed skin as he leans in for a heated kiss, allowing you to taste the remnants of your own pleasure on his lips. “Taste yourself, love.”

And not so long after, you scream his name as you feel waves of pleasure hitting your body as a lightning bolt hits the ground in a storm. Your body is trembling and your legs seem to be two wooden sticks, barely able to stand.

“Please… inside of me, Jaime… I need you…” You plead with him, pulling his body to be on top of yours.

“Your wish is my command, princess.” He replies, kissing you passionately once more and positioning between your legs. Jaime's eyes meet yours, filled with a mixture of desire and adoration. The anticipation was hanging heavy in the air, your bodies aligned perfectly, and as he slowly entered you, a shared moan escaped both of your lips.

The sensation is electrifying, the culmination of the pleasure he bestowed upon you and the intimate connection between your bodies. Jaime moves with a rhythmic precision, each thrust deepening the bond that exists only between you two.

“My perfect princess takes me so well…” He grows as thrusts into you going back and forth nonstop. You lock him by involving your legs around his waist and feeling his hard cock entering your cunt in full force, reaching your cervix and making you beg for more in his ear.

The room echoes with the sounds of your shared ecstasy, a symphony of pleasure that reverberates through the stone walls. The flickering candlelight casts shadows that dance across your entwined bodies, creating a tapestry of love and passion.

“Put another babe on my belly Ser, please…” You beg him as moans leave your mouth and the sound of crashing bodies fill the room quickly.

“With pleasure, love…” He says once more. Jaime moves with a rhythmic precision, each thrust deeper inside of your pussy in farfetched positions. He missed you too much after months away from you and it shows by the way he kisses you as he moves desperately to have more of mounting his dragon. The room echoes with the sounds of your shared passion, a symphony of pleasure that reverberates through the stone walls. The flickering candlelight casts shadows that dance across your entwined bodies. As Jaime's movements become faster, the pleasure intensifies, and you find yourself on the verge of another climax. The pleasure is overwhelming, and your bodies move in perfect harmony.

With a final, fervent thrust, Jaime succumbs to the ecstasy and releases his seed deep inside of your womb, growling and grunting with relief and utter bliss. You hit your own orgasm as you feel the warm jets of his seed invading your walls and your body squirm and you scream his name, crying out.

Your bodies tremble in the aftermath, and he collapses beside you, pulling you into his arms. The room is filled with a comforting silence as you both catch your breath. Jaime's fingers gently trace patterns on your skin as you bask in the warmth of the afterglow. “Do you think we created one more life for our household, love?” You ask him, laying your head on his chest. The world outside your chambers seems distant, and for a moment, it's just the two of you, lost in the serenity of each other's embrace.

“Depending on your fertile womb, my love, I have no doubts you are.” He replies, caressing your silvery white hair. “But we must endure in our pursuit on a daily routine. Just to make sure our fourth babe is on the way.” He playfully replies, smirking at you, who mischievously smiles back at him and kisses his lips, wiping some strings of sweat from his face.

Jaime presses a tender kiss to your forehead, his voice a soothing murmur, "I love you, my dragon princess."

And you, wrapped in the arms of the man you love, whisper back, "And I love you, my lion shield."

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arabellasleopardcoat · 8 days

Text

You wouldn’t believe the things I have done for her (Daemon Targaryen x Reader)

Summary: Daemon lives a dangerous life. You wish you could find a way to protect him, but you are too afraid of guns. Lucky you, Daemon has a plan.

A/N: Do not try this at home. Requested by the lovely @avalyaaa I am sorry it took me so long, but I wanted to give your request the attention it deserved.

Warnings: Smut. Mafia! Daemon. Gun kink. I CANNOT STRESS THIS ENOUGH: GUN KINK. Slight degradation.

You sit quietly in the back of the car. In the front seat sits Harwin, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel. He is bored. You can tell by the way he keeps fiddling with things. Changing the radio station, messing with the AC.

Harwin probably misses his old work. It’s not like Daemon needs a bodyguard or a driver. You know it’s more for your protection than his. And while Harwin is no stranger to guarding people who don’t need his protection, you bet the fact that Rhaenyra was fucking him made the prospect much more agreeable.

The AC gets turned off again. You would scold him for it, were it not for the fact you are deadly bored yourself. Daemon’s quick meeting has turned into an hour long one, and you have been instructed to not step out of the car. The only entertainment you have is your phone, and you can only scroll through so many TikToks before wanting to claw your own eyes out.

Instead of continuing to refresh your For you page, you turn your attention back to obsessing over your conversation with Daemon. The shame from your stupidity makes your cheeks heat up.

“I don’t trust them.” Daemon had said, pressing a kiss to your cheek. He often avoided kissing you in the lips whenever you were close to his associates. As if not kissing you could trick them into thinking you were not relevant and convince them not to target you. “They are…. Not the most respectful with women.”

“You don’t trust me, you mean. To handle myself.” And by the Seven, it had even sounded bratty to your ears. You had not meant it like that at all. You had only wanted him to stop using that shitty excuse.

There were women who attended these meetings. You knew it. Hell, you had even met them. And these weren’t sex workers or strippers. These were women who held high positions in the organization. Rhaenyra, who was going to inherit it one day. Mysaria, who ran an informant network. Even Alicent pitched in from time to time. You were tired of being lied to. Sometimes, you craved the more normal boyfriend experience.

“I trust you. I don’t trust them.” Daemon had chuckled at your pout, and given you a pat in the head. “Behave.”

It had felt so dismissive. So humiliating. As if you were a child and not an actual grown woman. You hated arguing with Daemon. There was something about his tone, or his attitude, you were not sure which, that made him sound forever condescending.

You supposed inherited wealth was like that. The Targaryens had been running their schemes for nearly six generations by now. They were royalty by modern standards, even when you didn’t know about their more shady dealings.

It was no use, being upset over it. Daemon was too set in his ways to change. You needed to find a way around your problem, instead of charging right into it. But nothing comes to you at this moment, so you unlock your phone and continue your scrolling.

You save a few recipes you want to try, and like some pet videos. You are thinking of asking Daemon to adopt a puppy. A small breed would suit your apartment better, but you know Daemon. He will probably want the most intimidating dog he can get his hands on. A big, scary doberman could be something you could get behind. You had been feeling unsafe as of late.

A sudden, loud noise makes you jerk on your seat. You start to ask Harwin what’s wrong, but you don’t manage to even form the words. It's happening too fast.

“Get on your knees and do not get up until I say!” Harwin shouts. You do not need further explanations, understanding something is really wrong. You fall into the floor of the car with such haste that your phone is sent flying under the seat.

“…. Whisk the butter and the sugar…” You try to reach for it, but the space is too cramped, and suddenly the car is moving, throwing the phone around. Your knees throb from dropping yourself from the seat too hard, and you try to focus on that and not the way your heart feels like it’s in your throat. A gunshot, you realize. A gunshot. You should be used to them by now, but you still feel afraid.

Harwin drives fast and efficiently. It’s two full blocks before he orders you to get up again. You do so, legs shaking. There is a wet feeling on your knee. Blood. You had scrapped it when you threw yourself on the ground.

“What happened?” You ask him, smoothing your clothes down. Now that your panic isn’t as intense, you feel a pang of guilt. Daemon. Seven Hells, you had left him back there. “Daemon?”

Despite knowing that Harwin’s orders are first and foremost getting you out of danger, you can’t help but feel guilty. You had not even thought to worry about him. He is probably fine, considering the place was filled with Targaryens. He is also more than capable of handling himself. But to be so blinded by your fear that you did not even think of him…

“I got no fucking clue.” He asks, meeting your eyes in the mirror. “I’ll call Daemon, alright?”

“Yeah.” You say, quietly. You grab the seat’s edge and squeeze, as if you could will Daemon to your side by frustration alone. Harwin dials.

“Yeah, we are fine.” Harwin says, smiling at you through the mirror. You know he wouldn’t be so casual if something bad had happened, and so, you give him a thumbs up. Your guilt eases a bit, being replaced by relief. “She is fine, just a bit shaken up.” And he rolls his eyes because Daemon can be a bit overbearing.

“Just trouble with an errand guy.” Harwin explains, once the call is over. “He should be here soon.”

But despite how casual they made it sound, you couldn’t shake the fear and guilt away. It stayed on your mind, nestled like a worm, curling around your brain and threatening to choke it. When the night comes, and Daemon sleeps peacefully by your side, you still think of it. Of how you could die, and he could too. And there wouldn’t be a thing to be done.

You sit up on your side of the bed, letting the sheet pool around your waist. You hug your knees to your chest. The night is chilly, and the blackout curtains Daemon insists on having to ensure the room is pitch black. It only serves to disquiet you further.

There is a gun on Daemon’s nightstand. Should there be one in yours? His work is dangerous enough to warrant it. Enough to warrant you having a bodyguard, why not a weapon of your own?

You weren’t going to let him die. Nor were you going to leave him behind, like today. This was the twenty-first century, not the Middle Ages. You were tired of cowering back and acting the damsel in distress. If someone is going to try to hurt the man you love, you sure will fight back.

Daemon was yours. As much as you were his, and so, it wasn’t fair that only he protected you. You needed to be able to have his back, or at least, not be a distraction in a fight.

Your decision is not just something you can communicate to Daemon, though. He is not going to like it. You know him. Daemon is a bit old-fashioned like that. He likes gender roles a little too much for it. He is your protector and provider, and you are supposed to just be sweet and warm. The thought of you using a gun will probably cause him a heart attack.

And the thing is, Daemon doesn’t just style himself your protector. He does an outstanding job of it. He has managed to keep you away from the nastier side of his business. Never have you seen a dead body, or any of his associates beyond his family. So if you hope to achieve this, you need to be smart about it.

You decide you will tell him first thing in the morning when he is barely awake. He will be more susceptible that way. And happy with your plan, you finally manage to catch a few hours of sleep.

The next morning, you get started making breakfast with only one thing in mind. Convincing Daemon. You are barefoot, wearing only one of his shirts. It’s basic manipulation, and he will probably able to tell, but you hope it will soften him to your cause.

It’s when you are scrambling the eggs that he emerges, lured by the smell of fried bacon and a fresh pot of tea. Daemon wraps himself around you, still warm with sleep.

“Morning, love.” His voice is still a bit hoarse with sleep. He nuzzles your neck and hums, pleased. “Couldn’t I convince you to come back to bed?”

You laugh.

“Not really. The eggs are almost done.” You take the pan off the stove, letting it cool. “I would like to learn how to shoot.”

Daemon stiffens. You can feel him pull back from you. It’s not a physical thing, his arms remain wrapped around your waist, but his voice becomes colder and meaner. He is fully awake now.

“And why, in the Seven Hells, would you need to learn?”

“To feel safer.” You answer, keeping your tone steady.

“Do you not feel safe already? I could hire you another bodyguard.” Daemon hugs you slightly tighter. You lean into the counter a little bit, and sigh. Then, you detangle yourself from him.

“I don’t want a bodyguard. I need to learn how to shoot.” You state again, calmly. You turn to look at him. He looks more annoyed than angry.

“Sweetheart. You know that is not the best idea.” Daemon pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Why not?” You cross your arms over your chest.

“You are sensitive. You cry when animals die in movies.” He complains, stepping a bit closer to you. Daemon pours you a cup of tea and plates the eggs. “Go sit. I’ll wrap this up.”

You give him a sullen look but obey, watching him cut and toast the bread just in the way you like. You sit by the kitchen’s island, watching him work. Daemon is only wearing his underwear. You don’t think he owns something that resembles pajamas. Targaryens always run hot, or so they say.

Disappointing yourself, you let yourself be distracted by the view. You watch the muscles on his back shift and move as he finishes breakfast for you. You are mesmerized by the elegance of his every movement.

He is delicious, you think to yourself. You want to climb him like a tree. Despite the slight age difference, Daemon is more handsome than other men you have met. He is a bit vain, sure, but his efforts are worth it.

It’s only after he sits next to you that you remember what you were doing. You blame it on the lack of sleep.

“So?”

“You are my woman. It’s my duty to protect you. I’ll keep you safe.” Daemon rubs your shoulders, comfortingly. His voice sounds apologetic, a denial despite the soft tone he is using. “You know I keep you well away from danger.”

And he does. Not only Harwin and him have talked protocols, but Daemon has also ensured you would be protected even in the event of his death or imprisonment. You have numerous properties to your name, a few fake passports and three hidden bank accounts in different tax havens. None of which would be taken away if the two of you break up, Daemon has clearly stated. He loves you enough to want you to be protected even if you don’t love him anymore.

“I don’t like being powerless.”

“I seem to remember you do.” He squeezes your thigh, playfully. Your breath shifts despite yourself. You cover it by taking a sip of your tea and leveling a faux glare at him.

“I know.” Daemon kisses your nose. “I like that you don’t know how to shoot. That you are clean from this world.”

“It won’t sully me.” You argue because it’s a silly thing to think. It’s not like you are going to start shooting people or running illegal gambling rings. You just want to be able to defend yourself if something happens. And perhaps Daemon. If he doesn't feel too emasculated, this ridiculous man of yours.

“If I wanted a woman who knew how to shoot I would still be with Rhaenyra.” He complains.

“Plenty of women know how. I am not…” You rub at your eyes, tiredly. You want him to understand nothing is going to change between the two of you. “I do not want to go to your stupid meetings or meet your associates for dinner. I just want to know how to defend myself if something happens.”

“And I am saying you don’t need to because nothing is going to happen.” Daemon’s voice turns firmer. Now you can tell he is beginning to get angry, so you reach for his hand and squeeze.

“But if it does? If one night we wake up and there is a gun to our faces? Then what? Do I just let you die for me?” You allow your voice to break in the last part, letting him truly see your anguish. It is a fear of you that has lived on too long. You need this. You need to be able to defend both of you if something happens.

“Oh, sweetheart.”

It gets you to the firing range. Daemon takes you there in the middle of the week, hoping to inconvenience the least amount of people with him booking the entire place.

Your first impression of it is that it’s nothing like in the movies. There are neat little booths with circular targets instead of human shaped ones. You had expected only utilitarian decoration, harsh white lighting and white walls. Instead, the place looks well maintained and expensive. You should have expected so, considering this is Daemon you are talking about.

“Your first lesson…” Daemon says, eyeing you distrustfully. You stare right back at him. “Will be on safety.”

He takes two bulletproof vests out of a hanger, as well two pairs of earmuffs.

“These are protection gear, meant to be used each time you are practicing. And hopefully…” Daemon passes the bulletproof vest over your head. You let him do so, lifting your arms when he instructs you. The vest is heavier than you expect, and more solid too. It feels like what you wear when you are getting an x-ray. “You will use the vest too if you ever fire a gun outside here.”

“And not the earmuffs?”

“You should wear them to protect your ears, especially if you are firing many rounds. But you never see people wearing these because they are heavy-duty protection. In a real fight, you wouldn’t be able to hear your surroundings. Gunshots are pretty loud. So are gunfights.”

“Is that why you are losing your hearing?” You sass, with a grin. “I thought it was just your old age.”

“Oh, shut up. Little brat.” Daemon smacks your ass, playful. It doesn’t even hurt, but you jump and squeal in faux outrage. He laughs at your antics, and it does make you feel better about forcing him to teach you this.

“Should we do the whole…?” You gesture vaguely, trying to reference the classical movie or book montage where the female lead and the love interest stand very close, under the excuse to fix her posture. Daemon shakes his head.

“What is even that?” You would call him an old man for missing your reference, but you know he is sensitive about his age. Besides, you are not a great mime either. “No. You are going to stand with your legs and shoulders the same width apart and a proper posture. No slouching!”

“You know, not all of us grew up with a tutor chasing us and screaming for proper posture.” You grumble, but comply with his orders.

“Perhaps if you had, you wouldn’t need all those Pilates and Yoga classes you so enjoy.” Daemon argues right back. He circles you and pushes a bit at your hips. You try to loosen them. “Perhaps my cards would not explode then.”

“Shut up. It’s not like you don’t reap the benefits.”

Your good humor disappears when Daemon places a gun on the counter in front of you. You go quiet, suddenly unsure of your choice. He shows you how to charge it and how to put the safety on and off. You pay him all of your attention, feeling a bit numb. Most of the details about it fly over your head, despite your attempts to memorize them.

“Alright. I think you are ready for your first try.” Daemon says, handing you the gun. You grab it with trembling hands. You adjust your stance and ensure the muzzle is pointing down, and that you are not gesturing wildly with it. He puts your earmuffs on, and then his.

The world around you feels muffled. You swear you can hear your heartbeat, with how silent everything is. The gun in your hands is throwing you off. It looks odd. These can’t be your hands. You feel like you are not actually there, but watching the scene unfold from outside, watching someone else about to shoot.

Daemon adjusts your grip with his hands, casual about his proximity to the loaded weapon. You stiffen as soon as you feel him approach you, worried about accidentally shooting him.

“Come on.” He mouths, impatiently. You lift the gun, take the safety off, and aim. You pull the trigger, and it is with an awful noise and jerk, that you fire for the first time. The shot goes wide, hitting the wall next to the target.

Daemon taps your shoulder and gestures for you to go again. He watches your every move. His expression betrays nothing. If you are going at it the wrong way, you wouldn't be able to tell.

You repeat the motion, flinching at the noise. Even with the earmuffs it’s loud. It reminds you of that day in the alley, and makes your stomach clench. Daemon signals for you to put the gun down, and you do so, glad that it’s over. You can’t believe you thought you could actually do this. You feel so stupid. He was right, you are too soft.

Daemon can probably tell you are getting too in your head. He removes your earmuffs and pulls you in for a hug. The vests make it awkward, but you feel comforted by his solidness next to you.

“You did great, sweetheart.” He lies, and kisses your temple. You feel so disappointed you could cry. A laugh bubbles out of you, a bit hysterical.

Daemon tsks. He reaches for the gun and deftly discharges it.

“Come on.” He says, kissing your cheek. “I know what your problem is.”

“Yeah?” You ask him, a bit doubtful. You don’t want to feel any sort of hope, just in case that he is mistaken. Giving up so easily might be childish, yet you had not expected this to be so hard. After all, like half the people that Daemon knew could do it.

“You have to learn to love the gun.” He places it back on your hand and steps up behind you. It seems like you are doing the movie thing after all. He kicks your legs a bit, encouraging you to shift your stance.

“Love the gun?”

“You keep looking at it like it’s a weapon of mass destruction.” Daemon laughs, and mouths along your nape. You shiver. It’s an almost Pavlovian reaction by now. When Daemon’s voice gets all low and husky, and he holds you like that, your body knows it’s time for sex. It’s very inappropriate. But conditioned as you are, you can’t stop the throb of arousal between your thighs. “Stop looking like you are horrified by it.”

He fixes your grip around the gun. He steadies your hand.

“Shoot.”

You obey, pulling the trigger. The gun clicks, but nothing happens. It’s unloaded.

“Good.” Daemon says, and lightly bites your shoulder. “Again.”

You repeat the motion. He has you do it over and over again, until you no longer flinch when pulling the trigger. When you are fully desensitized to the sound, Daemon takes the gun from you.

“Great job.” He says, placing the gun right on your face. “Now kiss it.”

“Excuse me?” You stare at Daemon, sure that he must be joking. Kissing the gun? No way. But one look at his face, at the amused curve of his lips, and the mischievous glint in his eyes, tell you that he is serious.

“You heard me.” Daemon chuckles, a bit darkly. You understand then that this is both for his amusement and a punishment. He gets off on humiliating others, that you know. And he had not liked that you had forced him into giving you shooting lessons. He now intends to bring you down a few pegs. “Kiss the barrel.”

You scrunch up your face. You got your pride, too. Despite knowing that submitting to his whims is easy and will probably pacify him for a while, you can’t help but resist. Your whole body rebels at the idea of accepting such an obvious power play.

“Come on, don’t be like that. You owe me.” Daemon tilts your head up, placing a finger under your chin. He makes a show of cooing over your pout, before leaning in to kiss you.

“I don’t!” You move your head away, denying him. It’s a bit cruel, and it makes him frown, which you consider a win.

“You so do. I didn’t want to teach you, you know. At least give me good jerk off material.” He pouts at you, and you can’t help but smile a little. He is ridiculous.

It is part of why you love him. Daemon is young in spirit, if not in body, and he makes you feel younger too. Giddy and willing to do silly things. Silly things like leaning in and kissing the barrel of a gun.

The metal is cold under your lips, hard and unyielding. Daemon makes a pleased noise and pulls you in for a kiss. You can feel him smile against your mouth, before trying to deepen it. Playfully, you nip at him, until it is him who yields and opens up for you.

It is then that he presses the cold barrel against your nape. The feeling of the gun against your skin makes you tense and jerk, giving him once again the upper hand. With the control of the kiss back in his hands, he pulls you closer.

You feel yourself slowly starting to become aroused. One of Daemon’s hands finds your hip, squeezing the flesh there. His gesture is both possessive and greedy. Something swoops in your belly, dark and demanding. You want all his attention on you, you want him all for you.

Making out with Daemon is a full-bodied experience. It shouldn’t surprise you, then, that he starts to gently run the muzzle of the gun down your neck. At first, you don’t notice, too caught up on how close both of you are. Your chest is flush against his, and the feeling of his body against yours makes you whimper, before you realize what game is he playing.

“Daemon.” You warn, annoyed. He gives you a shit eating grin.

“I am just getting the two of you better acquainted. My best girls.” Daemon leans in and kisses behind your ear. He takes his time, making out with the shell of it. He is cautious to do all the right things to make you tremble against him. Yet, you can’t seem to forget about the gun, running down your sternum, between your breasts.

The muzzle gets caught against your clothes. Daemon uses it to push one of the sleeves of your top a little aside, to be able to lavish the skin there with kisses. You only feel the metal against your skin for a second, but it makes you think about how it would feel against your naked skin. Would the cold make your hairs stand up on edge, and your nipples pebble? Or would it warm up to your temperature?

The thought makes your breath hitch, and your panties even wetter.

“There is no one here.” You say, quietly. “If you were to take off my shirt…”

“Oh, sweetheart.” Daemon grins, encouraging you to lean against the counter of the firing range. “You devious little thing.”

He drops to his knees in front of you, carefully taking your clothing off. You watch him move between your legs, helping you widen your stance. Daemon kisses a path from your ankles towards your knees, mouthing along as if having the finest of banquets. His kisses feel scorching against your skin, and you can’t help but jut your hips slightly, trying to command him into touching you.

Daemon smiles at you, cheekily. He then bites your inner thighs, scratching just enough to make you arch in pleasure-pain. When you are just about to hike one of your legs over his shoulder, he sucks your clit inside his mouth, and it’s then that you feel it. The cold barrel of the gun, pressing along your inner thighs.

You moan. Daemon laughs.

“You little whore.” It sounds fond. He eats you out without any finesse, slurping noisily. The thought of anyone else being able to overhear this makes you embarrassed, so you try to keep quiet. Your eyes close, hands squeezing around the edge of the counter.

Daemon is not trying to bring you any pleasure. His movements and touches are too methodical for it. He presses a finger inside your hole, then another. Then it is scissoring them and shushing you with soft licks to your clit when you complain at the slight sting.

Any pleasure you get out of it is incidental. Instead, Daemon is getting you ready for something. And this time, you know it’s not his cock. The thought fills you with dread and arousement in equal parts. How will it feel? Metal doesn’t give the same way flesh does. But the thought of having a gun, Daemon's, inside you, makes your hips jerk.

“Impatient, aren’t you?” He pulls away, reappearing from between your legs. “Fuck. I don’t know if I want to see your face or your greedy little hole when I put it inside.”

You look at him. His hair is sticking up in all directions, but his smile is absolutely ferocious.

“My face. Just in case…” You reach for his shoulder and squeeze, gently. Despite how arousing you think the whole thing is, you are still hesitant. Sometimes, things don’t feel as you imagine they would. You don’t want this to be disappointing.

Daemon seems to understand, despite the fact that you don’t verbalize it.

“I’ll talk you through it.” He says, kindly. He then spreads your folds a little and presses the tip of the gun against your hole.

You yelp. Your grip on his shoulder turns punishing. It feels pleasant, as penetration often does, but there is a foreign quality to it as well. The gun is wide, and metal doesn’t give as flesh does. You feel as if you are rooted tp the spot by it, being impaled with each inch Daemon presses inside you.

“You are doing so well. Good girl. My little girl.” He presses a kiss to your stomach. He keeps rubbing at your clit until you relax around the barrel. It’s only then that he attempts to fuck you with it. You clench at his shoulders, overwhelmed, and moan.

It’s confusing. The ridges of it feel good, catching against your hole. The metal slowly starts to warm up, not feeling as strange as before. Daemon keeps steadily sucking your clit.

The pleasure builds. So does your need. You start to move your hips along with his thrusting, trying your best to reach your orgasm. So of course, Daemon pulls away from your clit.

“You are taking it so well.” Daemon praises, voice husky with desire. “Your pussy swallows the gun right up.”

You moan, almost without realizing. You are so close it itches. But moving your hips up and down isn’t enough. You need more.

“Daemon, please.” You beg, near tears. Never before have you been this frustrated.

“Who would have known? You are such a hungry little whore.” Daemon smirks. The crudeness of his words makes you gasp. You feel smaller than you have ever felt, yet somehow, it makes you feel deliciously dirty. He is not wrong. It’s embarrassing, how you are humping the gun he holds, but you can’t stop. “You don’t think, you are so desperate you would fuck anything. Do anything, just to fill your greedy holes.”

“Please. Fuck.” You sob. Daemon licks his thumb and starts rubbing your poor, abused clit. He keeps fucking you with the gun, building you up and up, towards the orgasm you so desperately crave. You come with a scream so loud, you thank he has booked the whole place for only yourselves.

Turns out, you don’t hate guns as much as you thought.

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rhaenyslay · 20 days

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Blushes and Daisies

Prologue: 'A Rose Between Thorns'

Aemond Targaryen x OC!Niece!Reader

Summary: Aemond and Aelora chatter idly in the comfort of their hideaway - the hidden beauty of the gardens of the Red Keep among the wildflowers and cherry trees.

Warnings: Sickly sweet childhood sweetheart fluff, I’m talking blushes and giggles - twirling my hair and kicking my feet.

Word Count: 945 (normal chapters will be much longer don’t worry)

A/N: Hi lovelies! If you have any ideas/notes feel free to comment! There are a few changes to canon: The ages are adjusted slightly for the children (Aelora = 110 AC, Aemond = 110 AC, Jacaerys = 113 AC, Lucerys = 115 AC, Aegon = 106 AC, Helaena = 109 AC), and the timelines of Rhaenyra’s relationships are slightly altered too.

༻❁༺ 117 AC, THE GARDENS OF THE RED KEEP

“Aemond?”

“Yes?”

“Do you ever wonder what it would be like to be… normal? You know - not a prince or princess, not a Targaryen, not… anything.”

“Not really.” The young prince muses. He turns his head to the side from where he lay on the grass to look at his young niece, “Do you?”

The early morning breeze gently brushes over their cheeks as the two lay among the wildflowers deep within the gardens of the Red Keep, hidden away. The young Velaryon princess sighs softly, her face remains pointing to the sky - blue and clear, yet there’s a hint of grey that threatens to taint its hues.

“Sometimes.” Aelora admits almost silently, the only thing carrying the sound to Aemond’s ears being the warm breeze. “I think about going to Flea Bottom - maybe even Lys or Myr - about living among the people. No silly titles, no duties, no stupid corsets.”

Aemond laughs softly, to which she smiles.

“I think normal women still wear corsets.” He comments, “Just maybe not as tight.”

“Maybe.”

There’s a peaceful quiet that falls between them, a blanket of calm and serene isolation. Here, in their little hideaway, they have their own reprives: the young prince is free from teasing, from expectations, and from disappointment; and the young princess is free from whispers, from duties, from the conflicts of family and court. They share a silent understanding, a silent agreement, to speak only of pleasant things, to ponder only the oddest of dreams and queries, and to never share a word of it. The carvings in the trees, orange peels discarded, plucked flowers - the only testaments to human life this deep in the gardens.

“Mother and Father are already thinking about suitors.” She says after a minute or two of silence.

“How lovely.” Aemond replies, though his teasing tone conveys their shared distaste.

She lets out a breath of a laugh, though the matter is not amusing to either of them, “I just hope he won't be cruel.”

Once more, Aemond turns his head to look at her, the blades of grass tickling his freckled cheek, “If he is, I’ll see to him myself.”

“Oh, truly? I’m sure any grown lord will be scared of the a little prince like you.” She giggles, her warm brown eyes glistening in the beam of sunlight that floods through the trees above.

Aemond, who was being deadly serious, blushes a little, facing the sky once again, “They will be once I’ve trained more, once I’ve grown.”

Upon realising his seriousness, the princess maintains her smile, but it grows more appreciative than amused, “Well, I’m sure you will be the bestest swordsman in the world, and the bestest prince.” She smiles, brushing some of her hair from her face.

His blush deepens and he smiles, “Thank you.”

The silence returns.

“How is your training going?” Asks Aelora, “Ser Criston is always nice about you.”

“Well - I think so, at least.” Aemond replies, pulling at the grass absentmindedly, “Aegon is still mean though, and your brothers.”

She sighs softly, understandingly, “I can speak with them if you like - my brothers? But not Aegon…” she giggles airily.

Aemond smiles, though it’s sad, “Yeah, I’m not sure he’d be too easy to talk to about it.”

Noting his sad tone, Aelora shuffles a little closer in an attempt at comfort, the two of them laid side by side, eyes looking to the sky.

“I don’t know why my brothers are so mean.” She muses, “I promise they aren’t like that, they’re just… stupid sometimes.”

Aemond sighs, “I know… It’s Aegon mostly. But it’s fine, I’m manag-”

“No,” She cuts him off softly but firmly, turning to look at him, “it’s not fine; it’s not fair, Aem.”

“It’s okay,” He takes a breath, “we all have to go through something I suppose.”

Aelora thinks. She sighs and nods faintly, “I suppose.” She muses in agreement, “Doesn’t make it fair.”

Another silence. A bird sings from a tree above before taking flight, joining another mid ascension, flying off towards one of the many turrets together.

“Is your mother still being odd?” He asks, looking up and between the leaves of the trees and cherry blossoms above them - that hide them away.

“Yes… though I’m still not sure why.” Aelora frowns softly as she speaks, “One minute she’ll be fine, and then the next... she acts like I'm not even there.” She tries to explain for the umpteenth time, the dull ache in her chest forming as she ponders over her mother’s continued behaviour towards her. “It hurts.” She admits, a tinge of pain in her tone.

Noticing this, Aemond offers her a small, sympathetic smile, “I’m sure it’s nothing. She has no reason to have anything against you. You’re wonderful.”

Aelora blushes, “Thank you, Aem.”

Aemond pulls at the grass slightly, accidentally plucking a daisy. He looks at it for a moment. He turns and, in a moment of courage, gently tucks it behind her ear, within her soft brown curls. She finally turns to look at him, smiling.

“Here,” she, too, plucks a daisy, mimicking his actions and tucking one behind his own ear and within his own white curls, “now we match.”

With both having daisies in their hair, deep pink blushes, and twinkling eyes, they did indeed match - their souls mirrors of one and other as they always had been, and always would be, as they inwardly hoped, unaware of the turmoil to unfold, the blood to be wasted, lives to be changed. For now, all they had were their daisies, blushes, and whispered words. ༻❁༺

#hotd #house of the dragon #hotd fanfic #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond x you #ewan mitchell x reader #ewan mitchell #asoiaf #asoiaf fanfic

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highgardenart · 2 months

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Malora Hightower

The Mad Maid

#margaery’s witchy aunt coming at u #hc that leyton hightower’s mother was rhae targaryen and that’s how him & his daughter learned magic #malora hightower #a song of ice and fire #game of thrones #asoiaf fanfic #asoiaf #fan art #digital art #got #house hightower #valyrian scrolls

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mkstrigidae · 11 months

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She's finally finished!!! QITN Sansa Stark from my fic 'Winter's Child'. PLEASE full view- there are so many details on this thing. I drew all the patterns by hand, drew SO much ice, and spent like, three whole days designing the throne.

Is she too detailed? Probably. But I was having fun drawing 8 million different kinds of ice/frost and learning how to use procreate. Whether Sansa painstakingly embroiders ice motifs on her clothing or just magics up frost to decorate her sleeves in painstaking detail is up to interpretation. She's SUPER ice queen here to show the northern lords and any pesky invaders that she's every inch a Stark and that she Means Business.

Bonus: Throne Details! They get kind of covered up by the frost and her robes, but I spent so much time designing her throne and I'm wildly happy with how it came out, so have some close-ups!

The top part I wanted to have the wolves on either side fading into weirwood leaves and vines (which was harder than it sounds), and her armrests have a stylized weirwood tree carved into them. There was going to be a tiny raven sitting on the tree in that space between branches, but I've gotta sleep at some point, tbh. Took forever, but was totally worth it- I love how both designs came out, and I think her throne is my favorite thing about the entire drawing.

#my art #my artwork #sansa stark #qitn sansa stark #QITN #house stark #asoiaf art #got art #asoiaf fanart #got fanart #a song of ice and fire #Winter's Child #procreate #illustrations #ice queen #game of thrones #asoiaf fanfic #asoiaf fandom #asoiaf fashion #costume design #my writing #digital art #digital artwork #direwolves #weirwood #finishing a piece of art? I'm as surprised as you guys probably are #I like to imagine that Sansa absentmindedly just starts manifesting little frost patterns around her when she's deep in thought #there's a version of this with an ice background but i'm still not happy with it as is #pls validate me i have looked at so many reference photos of different kinds of ice while working on this #also i am never drawing fur this way again- I hate drawing loose hair/fur and put off finishing the fur trim until the last minute

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lovelyladyabsinthewrites · 11 months

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Birth of Dragons

Pairing(s): Aegon i Targaryen x Targaryen!Reader, Aegon i Targaryen x Rhaenys Targaryen, Aegon i Targaryen x Visenya Targaryen, Rhaenys Targaryen x Targaryen!Reader

Warnings: canon Targaryen sibling in*est

Words:2625

Summary: It wasn’t fair of him to choose a favorite between his sisters. Fearless Visenya, playful Rhaenys and loving (y/n). Above them all he secretly placed (y/n) close to his heart.

Part 2

It wasn’t fair of him to choose a favorite between his sisters. Fearless Visenya, playful Rhaenys and loving (y/n). Above them all he secretly placed (y/n) close to his heart. She was the baby, needed the most protection as she was the youngest. Visenya and Rhaenys agreed on this as well, for she was their favorite and most beloved. Many often speculated that Aegon married Visenya out of duty, Rhaenys out of desire, and (y/n) out of pure love.

With such a sweet demeanor it was a shock to all the day she mounted Balerion. The Black Dread wasn’t phased at all and allowed the third Targaryen queen to climb onto his back She was just a small speck among his black scales. Even he wouldn’t let Rhaenys or Visenya on top of him. He would bare his sharp teeth at either of the sisters if they dared try. Not (y/n). She coaxed him with a soft voice and delicate caress to his nose. (y/n) had her own dragon, an albino that she lovingly named Renoxa. The bond between rider and dragon was a strong one to begin with but (y/n) and Renoxa seemed to always be in such perfect sync with one another. Dragons couldn’t truly be tamed yet Renoxa was close to it. While even Balerion snapped at Aegon a few times, Renoxa would never dare do such a thing to (y/n). She was something different.

She had a way with all matters of beasts. Whether they were dragons or men, she was a beast tamer. In Visenya’s fits of rage, (y/n) was the only one to soothe her anger.

(y/n) was equally fierce though, determined to stay by her siblings’ side no matter what.

When she started showing signs of sickness, the other three Targaryen rulers were quick to forbade her from riding alongside them to conquer the north.

“Really, I’m alright. All of you worry too much.” (y/n) says and once again tries to reach for her armor, but Visenya pushes her aside and back down onto her bed. The youngest didn’t put up much of a fight since she had been vomiting all morning, her energy greatly drained.

Rhaenys shakes her head. “Look at yourself, sweetling. You’re in no shape to be riding.”

Aegon agrees. “She’s right. I’m not about to put you at risk.”

“What risk? We have four fully grown dragons. They’ll give up easily.” (y/n) tries to protest. Large violet eyes beg them to let her come. Normally they would have bent to the will of those lovely Valyrian eyes. No one wanted to risk (y/n) getting hurt though.

“No (y/n). You can barely even sit up. If you were to ride in your state you would fall off of your dragon and to your death.” Aegon firmly tells her. “You stay here and let the maesters tend to you. That’s final.”

Outside their fort they could catch the screeches of Renoxa and the other dragons as they leisurely roamed around their territory, loving the open air and freedom as dragons should have.

With the tone her brother had used (y/n) knew there was no way of making him budge. His rule was law. She looks away from her siblings feeling ever like the petulant child, her fingers fiddling with the dragon head ring she wore. Rubies in the eye sockets glistening in the daylight that crept through the window.

Unable to bear her sister looking so rejected, Rhaenys takes (y/n)’s face in her hands and gives her a kiss on the lips. “Don’t look like that. We’ll be back before you know it. Like you said, we have fully grown dragons on our side. What are direwolves compared to our beautiful dragons?” Her fingers brush away (y/n)’s silvery bangs and she places another kiss on her forehead. “Don’t be upset ñuha jorrāelagon.”

It was hard for you to not feel left out as your siblings donned their glorious black armor and set off on their dragons to finish taking over the rest of Westeros. You had been with them through it all, through every battle. You and Renoxa paving the way to Targaryen victory and conquest.

What else were you supposed to do? You could tell that even Renoxa was getting restless. You wanted to go outside and comfort her but the maesters that Aegon had put in charge of your welfare refused to let you out of your chambers. Any other time you would have tried to threaten them, stating that you were their queen and could not be kept locked up but in all honesty you were tired.

You spent most of the time sleeping. Any little thing made you so incredibly tired that you wanted nothing else but to take a long nap. You would sleep for hours and many times you wouldn’t even be aware that you had fallen asleep until you had woken up. It was then that the maesters had started bombarding you with questions. When was your last moon’s blood, when was the last time you had sex with Aegon; questions that had you blushing. You were still young after all. If they had asked the same thing to Rhaenys she would have just smiled and coyly replied without feeling any embarrassment.

When the third week had rolled in of your siblings being absent, the maesters gave you the news that you were pregnant.

The news was quite shocking to you. Of course you weren’t naive enough to not know what happened after sex. Pregnancy was a possibility. You just never thought you would be the first one out of your sisters to become pregnant.

To have a living thing growing inside of you was an odd thought. Your stomach was still flat and showed no signs of there being any baby. When you placed your hands over your stomach though you swore that you felt a heat that wasn’t usually there. Like a fire suddenly lit inside of you. You were going to be a mother. Your child, if they were to be born a boy, would be Aegon’s heir. His first heir.

Smiling slightly to yourself you grow even more antsy for your family to return.

The news that Balerion, Meraxes and Vhagar had been spotted nearing Aegonsfort had you sprinting out to greet them. Maesters yelling after you, you slowed down remembering your condition but walk quickly.

Renoxa is already up in the air, almost as white as the clouds. Even from way up there she spots you and begins her descent. Your hair whips in the gusts she builds up as she lands on the ground, her mighty wings beating against the air as she steadies herself. Her scales were bright, almost to the point of blinding. It was a great contrast when she stood next to Balerion or any of the other dragons. Her blood red eyes gaze at you, unblinking as she gingerly nuzzles your cheek with her snout.

You kiss her giant nose, you could feel her hot breath from her nostrils. Lovely, smooth, scales like priceless ivory. She was a gorgeous creature despite her small size; she was as young as you were after all and was still growing. Renoxa was slightly larger than Vhagar but not by much and no bigger than Meraxes. Still she was perfect to you. Even though your siblings loved their dragons it was nothing compared to your adoration for Renoxa and it showed through your strong bond. You doted on one another. You were as protective over Renoxa as she was over you.

And now you hoped she would be equally protective over your child.

“You must know that I’m pregnant.” Smiling against her snout, a gentle sound vibrates from her barrel of a chest. Yes, she knew.

There’s a cry in the air of a dragon, Balerion’s cry to be exact. They were closer now and you noticed the Black Dread picking up speed as he tilted downward to the earth. Both him and Aegon must be excited to see you.

Renoxa cranes her head, opening her mouth to bellow out a greeting. To others it might have been ear piercing, a sound of horror, but to you it was the sound of utter joy. You grin when Meraxes joins in with Balerion in wanting to see you.

Soon enough the three dragons were shaking the earth as they landed. Normally there would have been a crowd to welcome back the king and queens, but people were still standoffish when all four dragons were together. They made for an intimidating sight. Bannermen cheered at the arrival, the good news of Torrhen Stark bending the knee had already reached Aegonsfort.

Balerion lowers down onto the ground so that Aegon could dismount him.

“(y/n)!” Aegon’s smile is big at the sight of you and you have to control yourself from yelling that you were pregnant. “You look much better! How are you feeling?” His fingers weave through your hair, slightly undoing the braid that the maids had spent a while in designing. His eyes were sparkling as he leaned down to pepper your face in kisses. Sometimes you forgot how young your brother actually was. Being a ruler made him act so much older, but his true age always came out when he was lavishing love and affection upon you.

You giggle and cling to him. Rhaenys was soon to join the two of you while Visenya chose to stand off to the side with her arms crossed yet holding a gentle smile on her otherwise harsh face.

“Oh my (y/n)!” Rhaenys sings and nearly pushes Aegon out of the way to hug you next. Aegon only chuckles and allows his beautiful sister to coddle you. When she took in all of you though her face changed. Not in a bad way, but in disbelief. “Your pregnant.”

Aegon’s eyes grew large at what his sister had said. It wasn’t even posed as a question but a fact. Even Visenya let her arms fall down to her sides. The news must have been a little upsetting to your older sister as she had yet to get pregnant despite being the first to marry Aegon.

Scared to jinx the news, Aegon asks with hopefulness in his tone “Is it true (y/n)? Are you really pregnant?”

Giddy you nod your head uncontrollably. “Yes!”

Rhaenys breaks out into tears. “My sweet (y/n) is going to be a mom!!” She hugs you, refusing to let you go or share you with Aegon.

Even though there was still much left to do, Aegon refused to leave your side during your pregnancy. That is why Aegon put Rhaenys and Visenya in charge of overseeing the rest of what needed to be done in order to truly construct a kingdom for the Targaryens to rule over for generations to come. And you were playing the part of beginning the future generations.

Aegon marveled as your belly grew larger and rounder. He loved showing you off to his new vassals at how much your child was growing and that surely they would grow up to be a strong leader of Westeros. Even other noblewomen who were pregnant as well didn’t have a belly compared to your’s. It worried you at first, the size of your belly. Wasn’t it too large? You would ask Rhaenys if it was normal but she had as much knowledge of being pregnant as you did.

“Perhaps it’ll be an actual dragon.” She teased. Her hands roamed all over your exposed abdomen, feeling the heat coming off of it. Rhaenys pressed her cheek against your swollen belly. “Or maybe you’ll be having two.”

You gawk at your sister. “Two?!”

Her laugh is as clear and tinkling like a bell. “Yes, women can have two at once. It’s not that common but it does happen.”

“Dear gods I hope it’s not two.”

“Regardless of how many you have we’ll love them all the same. Even if you do happen to pop out an actual dragon. It’ll just show the people how strong you and the Targaryen family is.” Quiet in contemplation, Rhaenys kisses your belly. “You have done our family much pride (y/n).”

Regret eats at you for your older sister Visenya. “It should be Visenya who is pregnant. She’s been married to Aegon longer.”

A frowning Rhaenys rolls onto her back next to you on your grand bed. She had forced Aegon away from you so that he could be part in building his kingdom. The only thing that soothed Aegon was the idea that she would be with you. “She has never been happy in this marriage, (y/n). A baby would have made no difference. But yes, I suppose it does sting her a little bit. She knows though, knows out of the three of us you would be the first one to be pregnant with Aegon’s child. He may warm my bed a few nights but at the end of the night he goes back to you.”

“He loves you too, Rhaenys.”

“Oh I know he does sweetling.” She taps your nose dotingly. “But there is one thing that Aegon and I can agree on and that is that we adore you above anyone else. He loves you more than me and I love you more than I love him.”

You curl up against her, you had always found Rhaenys’ heartbeat to be so soothing. Ever since you were a small child you ran to her for comfort. She would always embrace you with ready arms.

And Rhaenys stayed to comfort you during your labor. She never left your side and held your hand as you screamed in pain. Her hair had been braided and pulled back into a bun as to not get in the way as she was assisting with the birth.

Aegon and Visenya had been forced to wait outside and listen to your wails of agony. They had never heard anything like it. At first when you started screaming,

Visenya had gone for her sword with fear that something had happened to you. That maybe an assassin had snuck into the labor room. Aegon had stopped her with a hand to her shoulder and had her wait with him.

You had never gone through anything as painful in your entire life. Many times you had been wounded in battle but no wounds compared to the pain you were in now.

Finally after hours of screaming and pushing, your son was born.

A beautiful baby that screamed much louder than you ever managed to. Hair as fine as white silk. Even if he was covered in afterbirth you wanted to hold him close to you.

But he was taken away before you could even touch him.

“M-My baby. . .” You reach out imploringly to him.

Rhaenys scowls at the midwife. “What’s the meaning of this. Give your queen her baby.”

“I-I’m sorry your grace, but she isn’t finished yet.”

“What do you mean?”

“There comes another baby.”

“WHAT??!!”

“Visemarys and Baelyx Targaryen.” Aegon smiles down at his newborn sons. Rhaenys held your firstborn Visemarys while Visenya awkwardly held onto Baelyx. You were exhausted from giving birth to not one, but two babies and had no energy to continue to hold them.

“How will you tell them apart?” Visenya asks skeptically as she looks from one scrunched up face to the other. “They look the same.”

Right then Baelyx started shrieking out of nowhere, startling Visenya. His older brother merely looked at him, puzzled as to why he was crying. Switching from his crying brother he looks back up at his Aunt Rhaenys and gurgles in delight.

Aegon chuckles. “Well that could be one way.”

#aegon targaryen x reader #aegon the conqueror #reader insert #reader insert fanfiction #game of thrones fanfiction #game of thrones fanfic #asoiaf fanfiction #game of thrones #a song of ice and fire fanfic #asoiaf fanfic #a song of ice and fire fanfiction #asoiaf fandom #a song of ice and fire #game of thrones reader insert

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xfancyuu · 1 year

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~ hold your breath, love dive. [aemond targaryen]

this is my first fanfic!!! this fic is also a repost, originally posted on 16th october 2022 on a different blog however i want all my work to be on this blog. reader is afab with she/her pronouns and has no appearance indicators. this fic has also been reformatted and edited, reposted on 7th april 2023.

premise: reader meets vhagar (my queen) [2,945 words]

The betrothal between houses Targaryen and Bolton was a choice not many had seen coming. You especially, you had gone from a girl who was content with the fact your father would marry you off to some Lord, and you'd live a life, you weren't sure if it had been a happy one, but it would have certainly been a life. You knew Aemond Targaryen was unpredictable, unstable even. He chose to claim a dragon as a pre-teen, stable wasn't something you'd use to describe him. He was chaos personified, like waves in the sea, uncontrollable, and you weren't sure what your father thought he was getting out of the arrangement. (You knew what he was getting out of the arrangement: power and selling off his only daughter was clearly the only way he'd receive such notoriety.)

The arrangement wasn't as horrific as you originally thought it would be, Aemond had seemed pleasant company though you were always in public, always chaperoned, so the man could not spend time truly alone with you, while your father wanted to marry you did not have your own opinions or goals in life, he did not trust the man you were to marry fully. Nor did you. You knew the tales of the women his brother ruined the reputations of, while his dutiful wife had to put up with his antics. You never knew how a man behaved behind closed doors, your brothers were a prime example of this for you. A prince was just a man after all and men were much different to the ladies you had spent time around. Kings Landing was entirely different in general, the styles, the hair, the people even, it was far too busy and put you on edge far too much.

They were dragons, both in sigil and temperament, you had thought. Each member of the family was equally fiery and hard to read, comparing them to the creatures which set them apart so vastly was a correct comparison in your opinion. Being around them made you feel powerful, that nobody could cross you, but you knew much better that politics can change in an instant — Rhaenyra and Rhaenys were proof of that. It scared you, being in the dragons pit.

Your time is spent with Helaena, she is a few years older than you though you think she is wise beyond her years, often telling you about the things she dreams about and often times speaks in riddles though you find her company more entertaining than most people. She understands you on a level which others do not, and you think in another timeline you would not be marrying her brother and she would not be married to her own husband, you would still be friends or perhaps more.

She doesn't want you today though, she claims she's ill with a sickness which is contagious — you'd get sick to spend time with her, you consider her your only true friend in this place, though Helaena being the kind sweet soul she is would never allow you to give yourself a sickness on her behalf. Suddenly you're alone, the day grows boring, the library is unappealing, you can only walk around a garden — no matter the size of it, so many times without growing bored. Needlepoint is tedious, and you think you could not cope if your life was to be like this once you were married. The garden however is where you find him, alone. It's the first time you've spent time together alone, and your palms feel sticky, and your heart is beating out of your chest. You don't know how you'll survive within a marriage when you cannot speak to the man without wanting to run away due to shyness.

"You avoid me far too much," he's the first to speak, you doubt words could process from your brain to your mouth to do so, "Do I scare you that much?"

You do not want to answer at first — perhaps he's talking about his presence or rather the scars he could not help, but you're strong, you're from the North and Northern girls aren't typically timid nor shy, "Why would I do that my Prince?" you can see how it would consider it mocking, but the playful tone in your voice indicates your intent. "Am I too fast for you to catch?"

You doubt you've thrown him off guard, though maybe that's why he had chosen you, "Do you think you are fast enough to outrun a dragon?" he asks.

"I do not know, you see I've never met a dragon nor seen one to know how fast they can be... though I have no doubt I can outrun one" you're being cocky, or perhaps you're flirting, you do not know which one would be better though you seem to amuse the price in question.

"Would you like to see one?" you don't know if it's a euphemism or if he's being serious, perhaps he does have a sense of humour after all.

"Hmm... I'm not too sure they would take kindly to those who aren't of Valyrian blood, what if one tries to eat me... I've heard the tales of the dragon who resides on Dragonstone who eats its own kind and humans alike." you're teasing him, who wouldn't want to see a dragon? You'd encounter them eventually, you surmised, it was hard to live in a family with such beasts without doing so.

"You know of the Cannibal?" his interest had piqued at that, your time with his sister had clearly come with advantages, learning more about the Targaryen family, the dragons owned (and not) by his family had interested him, next you'd surprise him by speaking Valyrian.

"Only what her grace, your sister, had told me about it, that apparently the dragon is older than Balerion the black dread — though it seems unrealistic and hearsay, your father rode him once did he not? Balerion I mean, —" your sentence was cut short by the prince, who was seemingly not paying attention to you, it was awkward for a few seconds before he excused himself.

Aemond had seemingly looked off to the side, as if being summoned though you didn't pay it much mind, the two of you were having an enjoyable conversation (well in your personal opinion, the prince may have just been conversing due to the fact his family didn't want the arrangement to sour due to his or your behaviours). Though, he had pulled away at seemingly the last second, muttering an apology and leaving you in the garden alone.

As fast as he'd disturbed your peace, he disappears almost as abruptly, almost making you wonder if you'd spoken out of turn and offended him somehow. And you could not help but notice how much lonelier you had become without his presence.

Some days had passed and the interaction with Aemond had lived within your head, when you weren't needed or doing something you'd thought back to the conversation, he was a seemingly lovely match and paid attention to you. Not that you could say the same for your parents, they hadn't known where you were or what you were doing most of the time, they only lectured you into behaving around the royal family, ladies do not laugh loudly, ladies do not spend more time daydreaming than needlepoint and ladies certainly do not frolic around the gardens unchaperoned. Helaena hadn't miraculously recovered, which meant your family continued to lecture you. Perhaps they were more irritated about the fact you weren't strengthening the bond of both families to ensure the marriage, as your mother had kindly put it. You were aware your family wanted more power, but the possibility of you getting sick while they were heightening their station could not have occurred to them.

Your days continued to be as boring as ever without Helaena's company you were beyond restless, your parents had told you to behave far too many times, so much you could recite their speeches. Though it didn't stop you from wandering alone — again. You wouldn't be shocked if it got back to them — again. However, just as the last time you were alone, Aemond Targaryen once again approaches you. Cockily as ever, though being a Prince of the Seven Kingdoms and having the largest dragon could perhaps have that effect on one's self-confidence.

"Lady Bolton, you are the exact person I was looking for," he once again spoke, he often left you speechless, from his undeniable beauty to the confidence he exuded — you had found out he wasn't always this way, gaining Vhagar had changed him, and you surmised it was most likely for the better. "If you can recall we spoke about dragons and I have reconsidered the terms of our arrangement."

This made your blood go cold, you were certain you had not offended the Prince, though with the way he'd looked at you during meal times you could see how speaking about the dragons which were an extension of his family could offend him. "Have you spoken to my father about this?" He wouldn't be happy, you knew him well enough to know that.

"You misunderstand me, my Lady," you were sure your heart would have stopped if it was not for the words he spoke, "I cannot marry you without being certain."

It was not a good conversation to be had, and you were almost panicking, and you were certain you saw a taunting glint within his eye, "I can assure you, our union would be fruitful, and you would be happy." You've been taught what it takes to be a wife from your mother, but she had never explained what it truly entailed, your words feel rehearsed and panicked and came out of your mouth far too fast.

"I cannot be happy without being certain that you could handle this life," you're not sure what he's talking about, you've handled court well, made friends, were well liked by most people, and before your mind drifted somewhere else to think of every single misdeed you'd done, he spoke again, "The dragons are loyal, they want to protect their riders, Vhagar especially so," there was something in his tone which told you, you were missing the context of this statement, "I would like you to meet her, hopefully she won't harm you."

You weren't sure what to think, on one hand seeing the marvellous and beautiful beast that she was, was a once in a lifetime opportunity, on the other hand you could be hurt, or worse. It was seemingly a deal breaker to Aemond, if you chose to say no he could easily break off the engagement without remorse, he's a man, they never face the repercussions of their own actions.

"When do you wish to plan this meeting?" you asked, you didn't fear much, and if a dragon harms you, burns you or eats you, you supposed there were worse, less dignified ways to have your life ended.

"I was heading there now and while you are unoccupied I had asked your father's permission," he can't say no to a prince, out of fear of offending, you knew that much.

"With the way some at court speak of you Aemond, I'm surprised you asked for permission," the playful tone in your voice was evident that you truly did not believe court gossip. "How could I ever say no to meeting the eldest dragon known to man? If she eats me it would be a happy day for me."

He finds you amusing, you can tell, he's poker-faced, but you can always tell by the subtle way his body moved closer to yours, "I hope she chooses not to, it would be a sad day. I'm afraid I would not know what to say to your father about the occasion, his only daughter, eaten by a dragon, how would he recover?"

"You don't know my father like I do, he'd spin some tale that I was courageous and chose to fight a dragon and paid for it with my life." You're divulging far too much about your personal family life now, you're giving him too much insight and unnecessary information which could be used against you in a moment's notice. "However, I am not going to let a dragon eat me today, my outfit simply will not allow it."

The journey to the largest dragon currently roaming freely was not as daunting as you'd originally thought, the nervousness you were feeling in your stomach hadn't subsided. Though, you could almost feel the anticipation radiating off of Aemond. Perhaps he wanted a show, perhaps he wanted to see how you'd react to such a magnificent creature, or perhaps he wanted to see Vhagar burn you alive.

She was there, laying and looking lethargic, or maybe she was simply not wanting to live life any more, she was beyond the size you had imagined, though something about her looked gentle. She hadn't harmed Aemond when she was a child and this made you feel safer, along with her rider being there, maybe he'd calm her with his presence. "Are you bonded to her?"

"In what way?" Aemond asks, keeping you behind him while he spoke in Valyrian — words you couldn't understand but if you were to have children in the future you should take note to learn.

"Can you feel what she feels, can she always feel your presence? Does she know when you're in trouble?" The questions come from your mouth before you can stop them, "You're speaking to her right now, are you not? Are you telling her to be on her best behaviour?"

"Did you not know we're always on our best behaviour." His response had made you laugh, you couldn't help it, if it had came from any other person you would have believed it. "Do I amuse you?"

"Yes very much so," Vhagar is stirring now, being so big she looks heavy to even move her head properly, you'd fear her moving her body without injuring anybody within the surrounding area. "It's a good sign she hasn't eaten me yet, isn't it."

"Don't be fooled by her, she's cunning, but she favours the brave." he spoke.

"Would she consider me brave if I were to touch her?" You ask, already moving forward however Aemond hadn't chose to stop you, perhaps he thought you too foolish for your own good.

"Isn't that what we're here for? You're to meet her and she chooses if we marry." Now you knew the motive. There was so much more than what met the eye with Aemond and you'd do well to remember that.

Taking slow and steady steps towards Vhagar was the easy part, she had emitted heat, much like the dogs your father chose to keep around in the Dreadfort. It was hard to stay away from her, she was utterly captivating, and it did not stop you from placing a hand on her. You don't doubt that you looked like an ant to her, tiny and easy to destroy with one singular movement. However, she stayed in place, letting out what sounded like a sigh. It was a good sign for you to continue touching her, it's not at all what you had expected her to feel like, she had felt warm and inviting despite her intimidating appearance. She was like her rider in more ways than he'd ever let the world know.

"You weren't serious about her eating you, were you?" Aemond asks, while you're completely mesmerised by how big and docile she was, your hand still holding the dragon's warm scales while Aemond's presence was felt closely behind you.

"Seeing her up close, I fear I misjudged her," and you goes unsaid. "She seems lonely and I wish she had more company, do you keep her company often? When you're not at court?"

"I suppose I too would be lonely if I lost Balerion and Meraxes." He confesses, "But she is well taken care of, I can assure you."

"There are tales of you claiming her, that you were a child and the only one brave enough to go near her," the stories are fabricated most of the time, "That you lost the eye for the dragon, was it worth it?" you hadn't approached the topic of his long gone eye, though you fear you may have offended him when he does not speak straight away.

"A dragon is a great price for something so small as losing an eye" he spoke though you can tell there's melancholy within his tone, you were so close now, incredibly so, never had you been so close to a man. "It does not frighten you does it?"

"You lost an eye for a dragon, why would that frighten me, my prince?" it's a question he can't answer because he's the one who's finally speechless. "Are you fulfilled in the answer you so desperately sought from this encounter?"

"I think I have all the answers I need," he had pulled you away from Vhagar ever so gently, it was the softest you had ever felt the man, "I shall tell your father we shall be married as soon or as late as you wish to do so."

"When we are married will you let me fly with you?" the answer was unspoken, he'd take you to the ends of beyond the wall if you so much as wished it. Perhaps the marriage was the perfect match despite being arranged, he'd found somebody as equally obsessed with dragons as he'd once been.

as stated before, this is a repost and not entirely a rewrite, just an edited version of mistakes i realised i made months ago. i hope y'all still enjoyed this. crossposted on ao3 under the name hedonism.

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen imagine #hotd aemond #hotd imagine #hotd x reader #hotd fanfic #asoiaf x reader #asoiaf imagine #asoiaf fanfic

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evax3 · 3 months

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What is honor compared to a woman's love? What is duty against the feel of a newborn son in your arms… Wind and words. Wind and words. We are only human, and the gods have fashioned us for love.

AND NOW MY WATCH BEGINS Chapter 9: The Fire That Burns Against The Cold

And, as always, lots of love to @st-clements-steps and @arielchelby for the wonderful beta work 💙

#jonerys #snowstorm #jon snow #daenerys targaryen #asoiaf fanart #asoiaf fanfic #canon au #the night's watch #jon x dany

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cleanbutsalty · 23 days

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I'm genuinely curious

Which verse, out of asoiaf and got, do you prefer seeing fanart (or other content) of?

#a song of ice and fire #asoiaf fanart #game of thrones fanart #game of thrones #asoiaf #got fanart #valyrianscrolls #asoiaf polls #got poll #poll #tumblr polls #a song of ice and fire fanart #asoiaf fanfic #asoiaf art

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chic-beyond-the-wall · 4 months

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More natural dyes! I honestly love stuff like this so much.

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targaryen-dynasty · 5 months

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ZĪRTYS PERZYS.

Prev. Part | Next Part

Maegor Targaryen x niece!Reader

WARNINGS: SEXUAL CONTENT—MINORS DNI; canon typical incest/targcest, p in v, teasing, breeding, size kink, size difference, slight humiliating/gaslighting?, slapping, teasing, mentions of blood, cutting of lips and hands, Valyrian wedding, female reader (no mentions of appearance besides purple eyes)

WORDS: 3.7 K

Maegor had kept true to his words. A sennight had passed until you stood in the Throne Room opposite him, the High Septon carrying out the wedding ceremony.

But no matter how lavish it all was, how many people attended the wedding and its feast – it was not what you wanted.

And your husband knew.

For all the years you had been around Maegor, following him from a very young age, there had been enough occasions where you two had talked about your ancestors and the Doom that came over them. Therefore, you had more than one chance to tell him about your desire to wed in their traditions one day, regardless of whether you and your betrothed would share the blood of Old Valyria or not.

Your wedding in front of the people of court and the High Septon merely seemed to be a means to an end to keep the smallfolk satisfied. You were wife number four ever since he ascended the throne four years ago, even though you currently were the only wife he had. The women that came before you had been dead for less than a year – something you hadn’t known of until he had told you the morning you followed him and Balerion to King’s Landing.

And with the bedding following the ceremony and feast, you were officially wed… in the eyes of the Faith.

But that did not mean it was official to you.

Not more than nine days had passed since you left the castle of Dragonstone for the Red Keep, but it still felt completely different when you set foot on the island again.

Many hours had you spent in Aegon’s Garden prior to your father’s death, surrounded by its roses and tall trees and basking in the peace and quiet. The familiar and pleasant scent of pine was enough to calm your fluttering nerves and brought back the memories of when your life had not been plagued by death and war.

A gentle breeze blew through the tresses of your hair as Grand Maester Benifer led you through the ceremony, acting as an officiant and the third witness to your union – your mother and aunt being the other two.

The ancient headpiece adorning the top of your head was not heavy, yet your pounding heart made you overly aware of it being there, and you could not wait to be allowed to take it off again. Even though dozens of Valyrian women before you had worn it to their weddings, it merely was a coincidence you had found the traditional marital robes you and your uncle now wore. They had been neatly stored away in a dusty chest in the depths of the Sea Dragon Tower, not even Maegor had been able to find them for his wedding to Alys.

Sitting somewhat tautly around his muscular arms and shoulders, Maegor’s robe did not fit him as well as yours fit, appearing as if it had waited all its life to be worn by you on this special occasion.

Having read about the ceremony and traditions over and over again, you knew by heart what was to come, yet your eyes still widened a bit as Maegor raised a fine shard of dragonglass, zīrtys perzys in the tongue of your ancestors. Awe and fear alike blazed through the purple of your eyes, whereas you spotted a hint of something different in the gaze of the man opposite of you. Affection? Or even love?

Your hands trembled slightly as Maegor placed the shard in one of them, knowing exactly what was to come and to do since this was not his first wedding in the customs of Old Valyria. Hesitantly bringing it up to his face, the tremors did not ease with you dragging it over his bottom lip. The blood that gathered at the cut was no surprise, however, it still unsettled you to think of your lips undergoing the same procedure just a few moments later.

The gentleness with which he took the shard from your trembling hand was little comfort, and as he cut your bottom lip in return, you wondered how he had endured it without wincing as you did.

After he had gathered some of your blood from the cut on the pad of his thumb, he dragged it over your forehead, drawing the Valyrian glyph for fire on it. You did the same, the glyph for blood written on his.

A shiver ran down your spine as you carefully watched him cut his hand without any sign of discomfort or pain, figuring he was just as savage and brutal as everyone around you had said, used to the pain and to worse. But this was not about savagery or experience, it was about your union, to be wed by blood and fire.

Only then it dawned on you just how much you had longed for this to happen – and how long you had waited for it.

All the years you had spent cross with your father for not offering Maegor your hand in marriage, and even sending him into exile to Pentos, seemed ridiculous now. If only you had known back then that you were going to end up in his arms anyways.

“Issa aōha pālegon,” Maegor whispered, his gruff voice barely audible over the rustling of leaves and excited roaring of dragons in the far distance. It is your turn.

Staring at his cut palm for a bit too long, you examined how the blood gathered in the curvature of it, and how much it actually was. The shard of dragonglass was in his other hand for you to take, and everyone around waited for you to repeat the gesture and cut your hand.

But you could not bring yourself to do it.

Every time you thought about your wedding, you had never considered the pain that came with it. And now, it was all that was on your mind.

Shaking your head, you swallowed thickly, flexing the fingers of your still outstretched hand. “Kostan daor,” you muttered, your voice breaking slightly, causing Maegor’s eyes to widen. Was he afraid? you wondered. “Kessa ōdrikagon.” I can not. It will hurt.

When he tried to place the shard in your palm, you pulled it back, yet your uncle was quick enough to seize your wrist with a strength he had only rarely displayed towards you before. “Gaomagon ziry,” he warned, a sharp edge to his voice that prompted the hairs on the back of your neck to stand up. Do it.

You whimpered, more so as the cold dragonglass pressed against the thin skin of your wrist, close to cutting it. “Gaomagon–Gaomagon ziry syt nyke,” you stuttered, “... kostilus.” Do-Do it for me… please.

He tilted his head to the side at your words, sizing you up, the grip on your wrist loosening almost at the same time. The slight crease showing between his brows indicated his confusion - or mayhaps even annoyance - yet he still complied. Taking in a sharp breath as the shard sliced your skin, the singing pain did not lessen, especially not when your hands united in a firm grip to make your one bloodline stronger.

Replacing the shard of dragonglass with a goblet whose content was unknown to you, it was Grand Maester Benifer speaking, while you both took generous swigs of the dark liquid.

“Let it be known that Maegor of House Targaryen and Y/N of House Targaryen are one heart, one flesh, one soul. Cursed be he who would seek to tear them asunder.”

Your heart pounded in your throat, and the coppery taste on your tongue made you aware that you had licked your nicked lip in anticipation of what was to come.

“You may speak the vows,“ the Grand Maester continued.

“Iksan zȳhon se issa ñuhon. Hen bisa tubis, ēva se mōris hen ñuha tubissa,” Maegor said, looking down at you with admiration flickering in his eyes. I am hers and she is mine. From this day, until the end of my days.

And then it was your turn.

“Iksan zȳhon se issa ñuhon. Hen bisa tubis, ēva se mōris hen ñuha tubissa,” you replied, with eyes locked with his. I am his and he is mine. From this day, until the end of my days.

Your husband recklessly threw the goblet aside to snake his arm around your waist, drawing you closer towards him with your cut hands still connected. He briefly looked over to the Grand Master and the Dowager Queens, before focusing his attention back on you.

“With this kiss, I pledge my love,” he cited in the Common Tongue, to which Grand Maester Benifer bowed his head once, and dipped forwards to claim your lips in a kiss that was shy of being reserved.

Your marital robes and smallclothes lay in a scattered trail from the door to the bed, some still pooling around Maegor’s ankles as he held you tightly in his strong arms with your legs slung around his waist. His hard cock was nestled between your bodies, pressed against his lower abdomen and generously coated in your arousal.

It felt as if your lips had not parted once since your kiss in Aegon’s Garden, still as fervent and demanding as it had been back then.

Maegor tipped his head back slightly to break the kiss, yet yours tilted forward to chase his lips eagerly. He tsked at that and grabbed your chin to keep your head still, allowing him to press his lips to your jaw before they wandered to the curve of your shoulder. His teeth nibbling your skin, in combination with his tongue dragging over the light marks they left, sent you into a frenzy, distracting you enough from the sudden pressure of his cock prodding at your entrance.

He had placed a large hand under your arse, effortlessly lifting your body so he was able to grip the base of his stiff member, tugging on himself twice before holding it steady to line himself up with your entrance.

You felt him slide inside inch for inch at an agonizingly slow pace as if he wanted to make sure you were aware of every vein and ridge of his cock that dragged along your quivering walls. But the tightness of your cunt was practically sucking him inside, eager for him to fill you to the brim

Where you took in a sharp breath to brace for the sting that came with the intrusion, Maegor released a husky groan, slightly muffled with his lips still on your shoulder. You tilted your head back to moan shakily, the grip of your legs around his waist tightening in an attempt to lure him inside quickly.

Your back arched against him, but the tight squeeze of your arse was enough to stop any further movements, pain and pleasure alike blossoming within your belly.

“Gods be good,” you whimpered, burying your head in the curvature of Maegor’s neck the moment you spotted him carefully studying your face contort in pleasure. You felt his hand trailing from your arse up your spine with feather-like movements, until it settled at the back of your head, entangling in your hair and tugging on it to yank it back.

You winced slightly, which probably made him aware that he had used a bit too much of his strength, immediately releasing your tresses. “Do not hide from me,” he crooned, looking at you with half-lidded eyes. “Let me see how good I am making you feel.”

Swallowing thickly, a meek nod was all you could do in return. It was the admiration in his gaze and the determination in his voice that rendered you speechless. Despite the fervor in his pleasure and the long-suppressed desire he felt towards you, Maegor had never been more careful, rawer and more vulnerable with you.

He had one arm snaked around your waist and the other hand still buried in your hair, solely relying on them to support your body, keeping you mounted on his cock as he slowly prowled towards the bed. And even though you had adjusted to his size, neither of you moved.

Carefully laying you down on the bed, it was inevitable for him to slip out in the process, leaving you pouting and yearning for him to fill you again.

He stood in front of you completely naked, truly a sight to behold, and it still had not fully settled that you were to witness that sight for as often as you wanted from now on for the rest of your lives.

The light the candles granted was dim, yet bright enough for the beads of sweat to highlight his pale skin, accentuating his rippling muscles. His cock stood tall against his lower abdomen, appearing painfully hard as it glistened with your arousal.

“Stop the sulking,” he said, though there was a hint of amusement in his gravelly voice.

You licked your lips, your eyes flickering between his and his cock. “Come here and make me.”

Maegor chuckled dryly but was convinced enough to join you on the bed. You scooted further towards the headboard and spread your legs for him, making enough space to accommodate his bulky frame.

Kneeling between your parted legs, he leaned forward and grabbed the headboard with one hand, towering over your small frame. The other clasped around the base of his hard member, aligning it yet again with your entrance.

You anticipated him to enter you right away, a little moan of excitement leaving your lips even before you felt him prodding against your cunt. A mocking scoff left his throat once he noticed what had happened, shooting you a knowing glance that had you cowering beneath him from embarrassment.

Mayhaps it was you eagerly anticipating it, just wanting to tease you and keep you waiting a few moments longer, but Maegor instead dragged the tip of his cock through your soaked mound, generously coating it in your slick. As he repeatedly rubbed it over the little bud at the apex of your legs, you couldn’t stifle a whimper from slipping past your lips, your hips rutting against him instinctively.

A wide smirk was plastered over his features, his gaze wandering down your frame, settling on what was happening between your legs. “Aren't you a naughty one, mh?” he said, making eye contact as he still teased your pearl, clearly enjoying the way your body reacted to him.

Heat blossomed on your cheeks, and you looked to the side. “Stop the teasing… please,” you whimpered, coyly. “I-I need you.”

Maegor stopped the teasing to pinch your chin, tilting your head for you to meet his eyes, the tip of his stiff member nestled between your soaked lips but not pushing inside. “But sweetling,” he started, the name spoken in a condescending manner that made your skin crawl. You definitely should not have liked him talking to you like that. “I am not teasing you in the slightest,“ he crooned, “I am simply being affectionate. Do you want me to stop?”

With your eyes wide and lips parted, you meekly shook your head, the intensity of his gaze as he awaited to hear your voice putting your body on fire. “N-No.” You weren’t sure what to expect if you would ask him to stop, somewhat anxious to offend him in any way.

His cock was so close but also too far away, and while you were certain he could go another hour without being inside of you, you lacked that composure. Trying to angle your hips to the point the tip of his cock was breaching your entrance, Maegor firmly connected his hand with the side of your thigh – not as strong as you had anticipated, but still strong enough to have a hot pain spread from your flesh right to your cunt. A renewed wave of arousal seeped out of your core right onto his cock.

“My my, would you look at that?” Maegor cooed, bathing you in a sense of feigned safety and calmness. “Who would have thought that my little niece is such a harlot?”

He placed his large hand on the spot where he had slapped you, soothing the stinging flesh with gentle movements. It was a stark contrast to the initial slap, and even though it confused you, you relished in the gentleness.

“Mae-Uncle,” you mewled, pressing your lips into a thin line to stop them from pulling into a pout. “... please.”

An impish smirk pulled on the corners of his lips. “Please, what?”

“By the Seven,” you whined, balling your hands to fists at your sides in frustration. “Just-Just give me what I desire!”

Maegor raised his brow, seemingly impressed by that little outburst and the lack of coyness with which you said it – completely different from how you had acted before. “Oh, how could I ever say no to you?” he rasped, hungrily licking his lips. His hand wrapped around his cock again, and he kept it in place as he pushed inside in one, swift thrust, forcing himself into your tight heat.

You forgot how to breathe as you tried to adjust to his size again. It felt as if he was harder than before, if that was even possible, filling you to the brim at once. You clenched down around him, and the choked gasp he released made your heart swell with pride.

Despite the slight aching of him being a bit too rough and big for you, an immense pleasure started to blossom in your belly, granted by his curved length plunging in and out of you.

A dip in the mattress next to your head, and Maegor had supported the weight of his bull-like frame on one elbow, inevitably bringing his chest closer to yours. His other hand had long abandoned the headboard to grab your thigh, hoisting your leg around his waist.

You drowned in the proximity. His weight pinning you to the mattress, the warmth that emanated from him, his scent — it all pushed you into a frenzy.

Maegor was balls deep inside of you, bullying the spot that had you seeing stars and hiccuped your breathing. As you looked to the side with your eyes squeezed shut, he was quick to cup your chin, tilting it back to force your eyes to meet his.

“How does this feel?” he asked, uncharacteristically tender.

You arched your back, arms wrapping around his thick neck to bury your hands in his short hair. “So good,” you whined, the words swallowed by Maegor pressing his lips to yours.

You tugged on his silver tresses, walls squeezing him so tight you couldn’t even tell if they had even unclenched before. The kiss was fervent, full of passion, and was all teeth and tongue – unlike any kisses you had shared before.

It might have been the feeling of your marriage finally being legitimate to the both of you, or you two being completely alone without any prying eyes and ears or people of court, but even the bedding was different from the many times you had shared a bed before.

“Such a good girl,” Maegor grunted against your lips, rutting his hips into yours. “Mayhaps I shall reward you tonight and put a babe in you. Would you like that?”

Keening at the praise and the significance of his words, your walls started to flutter around him, clenching and unclenching without a rhythm.

“Yes, please,” you slurred, digging your teeth into your bottom lip. “Please, give me a child.” You were not sure if it was the thought of being round with his seed or the sensual rolling of his hips, but your mind went fuzzy with pleasure, clouding each thought to the point you could only think of his cock dragging along your walls.

Where you could have sworn you could have indulged yourself in his proximity just a little longer, your body seemed to act on its own with your peak suddenly washing over you. Your body was taut, convulsing as he fucked you through the sensations, reveling in the way your moans grew louder and wanton. He mouthed along your neck, his hot and heavy breath fanning over your skin.

In your state of bliss, you had barely noticed the increasing pace and intensity of his thrusts. “I shall give you what you desire,” Maegor rasped to which you merely replied with a breathy ‘yes’.

The snaps of your husband's hips grew harsh and uneven as he crested the horizon, spilling his seed deep inside of your quivering cunt. His fingers dug harshly into your cheeks now, still cupping your chin while groaning into the crook of your neck. Maegor was relentless as he fucked his seed deep into you, desperately wanting it to take and bear fruit.

Once the throbbing of his cock became less, he collapsed onto his side, purple eyes squeezed shut and needing a few seconds to steady his breathing. You watched him with a tired smile on your lips, reaching out to scratch your nails over the coarse hairs on his chest.

“What?” he asked as he opened his eyes to you smiling at him.

Hesitating to ask the question, afraid of the answer breaking your heart, you licked your lips. “What if I do not give you a boy?”

But it seemed that the failed pregnancies of his wives before you had softened his heart, even if only a bit, because he brought his hand to yours on his chest, lacing your fingers. “I do not care, for as long as it’s healthy.” Bringing your joined hands to his mouth, he pressed his lips to the back of yours while maintaining eye contact.

The gesture and his words had your heart fluttering with nothing but love and admiration for the man everyone dubbed ‘the Cruel’, yet he was not cruel to you.

Pulling you close, he pressed a kiss to your temple. “Sleep, wife,” he crooned, “we shall reside here just a little longer.”

And sleep you did. The best you had slept in a very long time.

Maegor Taglist: @hypocritic-trash-baby @watercolorskyy @xxxkat3xxx @baedebnam @simonedk @heavenhatesme

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chiaracognigniart · 2 months

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Aemond and Alys WIP for #SixCharacters ship challenge commissionated by me, inspired by my AU fic The Doom in Our Blood comes Back

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arabellasleopardcoat · 9 months

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Harwin Strong x reader = well-fucked. (pleaseee?)

Lemon Cake (Harwin Strong x Reader)

Summary: Harwin’s wife is a tough crowd.

Warnings: Smut. Unprotected sex. Fake orgasm, then a real one. Communication with your partner is sexy. Talks of sweets because I am starving.

A/N: This has been sitting in my inbox for a long time, and I was thinking of writing a sex marathon for it, but then I had this thought… What about a reader that struggles to orgasm? That’s common for women. I thought that Harwin would be the one who cares the most out of all the HOTD men.

You do not come to the marriage bed an innocent. You are a noble girl from The Reach, and so, no expense was spared for your education. Your Lady Mother had made sure you came prepared.

So that’s why, in the middle of the act, as your new Lord Husband pushes and grunts, rocking his hips against yours, you suddenly clench down. You clench and unclench, and give a few undignified noises, and then go limp in his arms.

Pulling back from you, Ser Harwin, or just Harwin, as he has asked you to call him, looks perplexed.

You grin. You must have done well if he looks so amazed. Remembering your Lady Mother's advice, you smile at him.

“Thank you. That felt nice.”

“I am afraid…” Harwin frowns. “Did you… Um. Was that supposed to be…?”

Perhaps he needs help. Perhaps no other woman had done that for him, although you knew it was likely Harwin had his first time with a whore, and they were much better at pretending than you were.

“I finished. I had a great time, husband. You should be proud of yourself.” You smile at him, trying to get it to not sound rehearsed.

You had not, in fact, had a great time. It had been mostly an uncomfortable time. You weren’t totally lying, either. Some of his earlier caresses had been pleasant. But no matter how much he had prepared you for it, the breach of your maidenhead had hurt. Your body felt like it was not meant to stretch that way.

Then, you were too in your head to properly enjoy it, wondering if you were pleasing him. No matter if he was trying his best to please you, you were thinking about how your body looked, how you sounded. You just wanted him to be happy.

Harwin had been a wonderful betrothed. Calm, gentle and reassuring. He had taken time listening to you and getting to know you. Despite being very different from you, he had partaken in your hobbies and interests, to get closer to you. You felt he deserved a reward for it, something you could give to him in exchange for his kindness.

Hence, the false peak. Your Lady Mother had told you that men liked that sort of thing. They felt proud, when they could boast about how good they made their ladies feel. And men were less likely to stray when they found their wives fun to bed. You intended to be a joy.

“My lady.” Harwin pulled out of your body. You frowned, confused. “You certainly did not.”

“Yes, I did.” Your voice is gentle. Perhaps he needs extra reassurance. You have no problem feeding his ego, considering he has been really nice to you since you were engaged. “It was wonderful.”

“You did not. I will not ask you why you felt the need to fake it, but I will ask that you do not lie to me.” His tone is stern. You wrap yourself with the sheets, like a scolded child. Harwin stays silent for a moment, before placing a hand on your back. “Did you really enjoy yourself, or are you telling me what you think I want to hear?”

“I was…”

“Be honest, wife. Remember your vows.” He interrupts, before you can think of a better lie. Harwin has a harsh tone that makes you understand exactly why he was made Commander of the Citywatch. You decide to drop the pretense, then.

The two of you don’t know each other well enough for you to know if it is safe to keep lying. Is Harwin good at catching lies? Is he observant? You don’t know. And in those cases, instead of digging a deeper hole, honesty tends to be the best policy.

“I wanted you to be happy, and proud.” Your tone is soft, still facing away from him. He lays down behind you, spooning you, and presses a kiss to your nape.

It’s a strange feeling. This was not how your wedding night was supposed to go. You had expected physical closeness and intimacy, but not this kind.

“I am certainly not.” But despite the harsh words, Harwin rubs his nose against your nape, sweetly. “Did you enjoy any of it?”

His tone is genuine. Curious, and not scolding. Perhaps, even the slightest bit guilty.

You are not sure of how to put it. It’s also not something you feel comfortable discussing. You are thankful for the fact that your back is to him, and he can’t see your expression. It takes you a while to have the courage to speak.

“I did, at first. But when you… When you entered me, it hurt. It was pleasant, I guess, after a while, but not really… Groundbreaking.”

It’s so awkward to say. You know this is not proper conversation, not even for a wife and a husband. The act is not meant to cause you any pleasure. It’s meant for Harwin to enjoy and to give you children. No more.

“Oh?” But Harwin doesn’t sound angry or scandalized. His tone is one of intrigue. You can feel his lips curling into a smile against the skin of your nape. “Do tell.”

You wonder how you could possibly explain. It finally occurs to you. You can compare it to something he will understand.

“It was like having a cake. Not a lemon cake, just a plain cake. Good, just not…”

Harwin chuckles, making you laugh too. The feel of the little huffs of air he lets up against your neck is quite ticklish.

“I get it. But I don't need you to fake your pleasure. I rather know I am not doing it right.”

“Is there a way for it to be enjoyable?” You look at him, over your shoulder. Curious, this time. If it was some other man, one less kind, you wouldn’t ask. “A right way?”

“Let me teach you.” Harwin whispers in your ear. His hands start mapping over your body. He caresses your neck, then your chest. His hands cup your breasts, softly massaging them.

It feels like before. Good. Warm. Arousal slowly starts to make all your hairs stand on end, breasts getting heavier, center going slick. Almost unaware of it, you moan. You can tell the situation is affecting Harwin too. His hardness, which had softened while you were cuddling, is back with a vengeance. It presses insistently against your behind.

Harwin trails a hand over your stomach, palm wide and warm. He lifts one of your legs, so it rests on his thigh, leaving you open to him. You sigh, sweetly.

“Like that?” He asks you, before lowering his hand towards something that makes you feel like you are on fire. His thumb taps lightly at it, and you moan. “That’s your pearl. If you rub it, it feels good.”

“Yes. Just like that.” Your head lolls over his shoulder, feeling the warmth of his body against yours. It suddenly isn’t enough. “The… Could you…?”

“Tell me.” Harwin kisses your jaw. “I want honest opinions.”

“Take your shirt off.” As Harwin shifts to comply with your orders, you notice he is hard again, poking at your lower back. “And… Um. Could we try again?”

“Try what?” He rubs softly at your pearl, making you mewl near his ear. Harwin chuckles, darkly.

You stare at him over your shoulder. You feel so embarrassed, you wish the earth would open and swallow you whole. Harwin grins, and does absolutely nothing. Even the fingers he has on your pearl stop.

“I want you inside me.” You finally say, when just being held starts being too little for you.

“Are you sure?” He presses a kiss to your temple, his fingers lowering towards your entrance. As soon as his hands are moving again, your hips buck against them, impatiently.

“You said there was a way for it to be pleasant. I want that. Show me.” Your voice comes out a little breathless.

“You are a wonder.” Harwin kisses you, softly. “My brave, gorgeous girl. I am so sorry for what happened before.”

“It’s alright.” But just as you are speaking, you feel him lining the two of you up. You do your best effort not to tense up or expect pain. Your words melt into a soft sigh as Harwin enters you.

Just as he did before, he stays still. The stretch is not nearly as uncomfortable as it used to be, but it’s still quite considerable. You doubt you will ever get used to his size. It feels as if he is pinning you into place. A bit overwhelmed, you search for his hand for reassurance.

“I was a bit overeager, before.” Harwin kisses your temple. “I wanted you so much, I wasn’t paying the attention you deserve.”

His hand caresses your ribs, softly. It tickles, and you can’t help but laugh. It prompts a chain reaction. Your laughter makes you clench up, which makes him groan and makes you laugh even more.

“That’s flattering.”

Your laughter buys you a much-needed respite. No longer does it feel like you are being pulled apart. Still, Harwin’s sad puppy look gets to you.

“I was too in my head. Just not in the moment.” You explain, not wanting him to feel bad about it. Because it’s the truth. You were the one who decided to fake a peak when there was no need for it. You have heard many ladies cried and yelled during their wedding nights, and their husbands didn’t even bat an eyelash. Harwin was not that kind of man. Had you been truly suffering, from what you had learned about him, he would have stopped.

If you had just allowed your face to show its true emotions, you were sure Harwin would have done something. But you had been too embarrassed and too caught up on making it good for him.

“I can keep you grounded, if you wish.” Harwin teases, kissing your cheek. His hips roll gently against yours, as if searching for something. Something he manages to find because you nearly jump from his arms when he touches something inside you that makes you see stars. “There?”

“There.”

He hugs you from behind, keeping the angle of his hips. This time, is more gentle, but much more precise. It feels good. Once again, it feels pleasant. Good. But nothing is happening. You start to get anxious. Why can’t you just get there? Will Harwin get bored with trying to indulge you? You would rather not be a burden to him, or get in between him and his pleasure. Perhaps it’s just not for you.

Harwin pulls you in for a kiss, without stopping the rocking of his hips.

“Are you still with me?”

You look at him, a little sad. You promised to be truthful, but you would rather not hurt his feelings. He is trying hard to please you, you can feel it. But it’s just not working.

“No. I am so sorry, husband. I am really trying, just…”

“That’s alright. Do you want me to stop?” Harwin kisses your cheek, not sounding too hurt. You risk a peek at his expression. His face is calm, encouraging, even.

“No.” You mutter. It comes out a little too sad because he boops your nose, making you smile on reflex.

“Here. Let me…” Harwin shifts you, from your side to sitting on top of him. The suddenness of the movement makes you yelp. “Use me.”

“What?” You cannot believe your ears. Hesitantly, you place a hand on his chest, bracing yourself. He smiles up at you, encouragingly.

“For your pleasure. Do what feels right. And if your thighs get tired, or your hips feel tight, tell me. I’ll help you.”

“I feel silly.” You complain, grabbing at his member. It feels warm and slick in your hand. Harwin makes a small noise at the contact, and you smile, sinking down on him.

It feels different immediately. It’s both deeper and increasingly intimate. But you feel self-conscious, staring him right in the eyes. There is no way you will be able to fake your pleasure now, not with his eyes on yours.

Shyly, you turn your head away from him.

“Don’t. You look gorgeous. The prettiest woman I have ever seen. “ His hand is gentle against your cheek, encouraging you to look him in the eye.

Harwin smiles softly. You smile back. And then, you arch your hips, searching for the right angle. He watches you, eager to learn how to please you. And you watch right back.

His face, going slack in pleasure. The way he grunts when you slowly get up and down, rocking your hips just so to get friction on your pearl. The way sweat starts to gather at his temples, making his hair stick down. It fills you with a secret thrill, pleasing him.

You want, no, need more. You rub at your pearl, yet it feels too rough to be enjoyable. Almost too dry. You whine. Harwin catches the hint immediately. He takes your wrist and presses a kiss to your palm, softly, before taking two of your fingers into his mouth. You startle a little, both by the contrast between the lewd action and the tenderness he treats you with, and how much into it he seems to be.

Harwin releases your fingers with a wet pop, giving you a naughty grin. You don’t need any further prompting. You feel almost uncomfortably wet now, after his display, but you still use the fingers he sucked to rub at your pearl.

It’s as if you are burning up. You are hot with need, thighs clenching and stomach tensing in preparation for something. Arousal thrums on your nerves, echoes in your bones. You are so close, a wave just about to crash against the shore.

Your eyes fall closed. It’s an impossible thing, you know. But you swear you can feel your pulse, beating under your fingertips, in that tight little bundle of nerves. You are starting to get tired, and you cling to Harwin’s shoulders desperately.

“That's it. Just like that, love. You are doing so good for me. Just a bit more.” His hand rubs your flank, softly. He is trying to encourage you, but you want to scream out in frustration. You are so close.

You grunt, thighs burning with exertion. It makes your rhythm falter. You sob.

“You can do it. Give it to me.” But you clearly can’t. Not on your own. So Harwin plants his hips and thrusts, aiding you along.

You moan loudly.

“Like that. More.”

He is quick to obey, helping you bounce up and down. As you finally, finally reach the peak both of you have worked so hard for, you lean in and kiss him.

“I love you.” And it's glorious. The best feeling in the world, warm in your stomach, body taut from head to toe. The wave finally crashing against the shore, a faint buzzing in your ears.

“I love you too.” Harwin says, squeezing your hands. He waits until you open your eyes and catch your breath, before rolling you over. “My turn.”

You laugh. He thrusts several more times, before falling on top of you. His face is the most beautiful thing you have ever seen, and you tell him so, enjoying his blush.

You stay like that for a while, before you get too impatient. You wriggle a little, feeling sticky all over, but Harwin just pulls you closer.

“So. Lemon cake or just cake?”

“Lemon cake. Definitely.”

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