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laurorne · 28 days

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༊*·˚ HE MADE A SLAVE OF ME | daemon targaryen x targtower!reader, minor aegon ii targaryen x twin wife!reader

summary: confined to the sullen walls of the red keep, there isn’t far you’re afforded to wander. entertained only by the people you silently watch, you find excitement in the visit of your older sister and uncle. though the latter is far more appealing to spend the night with, and more willing.

warnings: nsfw, minors dni, targaryen incest (uncle x niece), porn with minimal plot, p in v, rough sex, slapping, degradation, masochism, blood play?, praise kink, breath play/choking, breeding kink, a lil’ stomach bulge, cheating on both halves, swearing, inaccurate high valyian (i tried?), weird pure bloodline shit, fiending for that valyrian d, hightowerphobic daemon, bastardphobic reader

word count: 3.5k

a/n: daemon is so ugly but he’s so hot it’s so bad. okay, i can’t see daemon as a rough lover except maybe with a cunty targtower so this was the only way i could bring myself to write this 😭 (this was my inspo for this entire fic, bless tiktok editors 🙏🏼🙏🏼)

As a daughter of Alicent Hightower and Viserys Targaryen, you'd found that most people bent to your will regarding requests. The lords would bend over twice fold if it meant a chance at earning your hand, and the girls at court dared not step a foot before you in the case you'd remove them from your entourage of highborn ladies.

With eyes so doe-like and lips like honey, one would mistake you for just that, a doe, not the dragon draped beneath green silk that shifted like flames in a hearth.

That's how you'd created yourself. How you'd curated each step and each titter of laughter, every slow blink at every lord and all those tight lipped smiles at ladies of court who came too close to your family.

People at court had said that you were the best half of your twin brother, that he had taken all the bad traits so you could shine as the darling of the realm. Poor, sweet Aegon. Ever the scapegoat and always the perpetrator.

So as you sit across from your uncle, Daemon Targaryen, you find yourself rather... without.

He sits beside your half-sister. A beautiful glow on her skin as she laughs along with something your father had said. She's stunning, Valyrian in every sense of the word. With her pale hair and aquiline nose, you can see why she was adored.

Other than the Realm's utter Delight, dinner is less than… familial.

Everyone can clearly see the divide between both sides of House Targaryen. The Hightowers sat to the right of the King, the mix of Targaryen and brown-haired Velaryon to his left. You find no warmth in this arrangement, other than false pretenses of civility and feigned love for each other, the entire affair is only for show of the poor old King.

Though there is an affair that consumes your thoughts, a tryst that would no doubt end messily. So you opt to speak with your family, with a spare glance thrown his way just to divulge yourself after all these years of self-control.

Daemon understands the weight of your gaze on him. Even from across the table he can feel the way your eyes trace his features, the way you're devouring him without lifting your fork or grinding your teeth or even touching him. Your supposed indifference to the sides that the house of the dragons has taken makes his fingers twitch around his goblet. You're speaking with Baela and Rhaena as if you've sat beside them in court for years, doting on their new dresses and telling them snippets of what they've missed at the Red Keep.

Jacaerys' gaze is flittering over to your figure every couple of seconds, eyes dipping to your dangerously low neckline of your green dress, every time you laugh and your chest heaves he looks away like a wide-eyed virgin. Red at the ears as he scolds Lucerys for holding a fork wrong, Daemon guesses, with the way the older boy points to another utensil.

And your family, gods.

Your twin brother, Aegon, is attempting to drink away his sorrows but you're always quick to scoop the cup out of his grasp and palm it off to a servant. The fool simply allows you, resigning to watch everyone speak as you have him by the balls practically. And to still have him fawning over you, his pretty little twin-wife, is absurdity.

Aemond is glaring daggers at Rhaenyra's boys and Helaena is off in an entire world of her own.

When he looks back to you and finds those lilac-coloured iris' already poised on him, his jaw clenches and he takes another pass at his Dornish wine. The way your hair falls in pure white curls around your face and frames the heavy gorget necklace that adorns your neck, inlaid with moonstone and rubies that look eerily similar to the ones from the Conquerors crown. Spoiled Hightower brat.

Daemon is far from naïve. He's been apart of how many wars?

He's a seasoned veteran to these types of women, to their greedy plans and treacherous thoughts.

Though... that colouring that she has, so clearly a staple of House Targaryen, he's not so convinced that he's entirely immune. He's sure that his nephew is beyond stupid to not have made you a mother sooner. With tits like that and eyes so sweet? He'd have you swollen with babe two moons after your last birth.

He watches the way you lick a droplet of wine from the corner of your mouth, watches the way your eyes flicker from Jacaerys to him, and he can see it then. Something so wanton in your gaze.

Perhaps paying a visit to his dear, sweet niece tonight would not be such a bad thought.

You arch up into the touch —his touch— as shivers run along the length of your spine. His hand smooths over the swell of your breast in response, easing your ache as you squirm for more. It travels over the fat of it until his fingers pinch roughly at your nipple. A stuttering breath punches its way from your throat as he stares down at your face.

“So eager, aren’t we?” He admires the way your lips part, the way your eyes dance back into focus and meet his heated gaze. The way you seek out the eye contact. Want to know he’s watching the show you’re putting on.

Just as you’re forming the vowels on the tip of your tongue, he’s grabbing a fistful of your thigh and pushing his hips impossibly closer to yours. It makes you shudder, makes you want all the more. But there is no give to his press, he’s seated far too deeply inside you to move any further in. He’s pulling his hips back just the smallest fraction before he starts inching back in, heavy and hot and oh-so deep it burns.

Your tongue swipes over your lips, your hand moving to clutch onto the arm that props him up above you. The thickly corded muscle makes holding onto him all the easier, makes your cunt flutter and your chest heave and your eyes water. He’s so large, far different from your husband, this pure-blooded Valyrian —this man— he’s encompassing your body and stuffing you all at the same time, filling, holding and folding you how he wants.

You move to weave your fingers into the loose strands of his hair but the hand that was cradling your thigh is quick to grasp your wrist, tugging the appendage away as he begins dragging his hips back. “Where did all your words go, dōna riña?” (sweet girl)

You swallow thickly, fingers balling up as he oh-so slowly pulls out til’ just the tip rests in you. It’s agonising, having been so full not even moments ago, you feel empty. It’s involuntary, the way your hips lift towards him, cunt greedily taking him as you stifle the way your breath hitches. His thighs tense up as he groans, fingers tightening around your wrist as his hips rock forwards just the tiniest bit.

“Daemon, please.” It’s breathy, spoken from someplace in your chest that you feel with every inch of your body. “I want you.”

Your eyes only just catch the tic in his jaw as he drops your wrist, immediately grabbing a fistful of your tit and pushing back into you. Hips meeting flush as he glares down at you. The grip he’s got on your fit fucking hurts, but you’d be damned if it doesn’t set all your nerves on fire.

“Ilībio,” He all but snarls. (whore)

You don’t even register the next thrust before he’s pulling out again. He leans forward, large hand coming to press down onto your throat. His fingers curl around your neck —encompassing it entirely as he presses down onto you— using you for leverage as he fucks into you.

You moan, mouth falling open as he uses your body and paws at your tit messily. You can feel the flesh spill from between his fingers, feel the sensitive peak rubbing against his rough palm.

It’s driving you insane.

The hand leaves your tit, moving to the next and grabbing on just as roughly. He hits a particularly forceful thrust that has you jolting up the bed, back arching up as you whine. Your legs curl around his hips, thighs bouncing with each stroke, making a distinct slapping as he fucks you into the plush sheets of your bed. You roll your pelvis to the rhythm he sets, it’s practised, timed and purely filth.

“You belong in the,” He pauses as he sneers down at you, watching his cock sink deep into your tight little cunt. “Street of Silk.”

You can only sigh out a breath as his hand clamps down on your throat, your air coming in short bursts only when he pulls out to thrust back in.

“Your husband mustn’t have fucked you well enough.” He thrusts violently on husband, heavy cock bullying its way back into you as your cunt clenches.

His words are driving you closer to the edge, making you feel all the slicker as he fucks you, uses you like he’s your husband. Like you belong to him. Like you’re the sister he married in the ways of Old Valyria —in the ways of your house— in blood and fire.

The thick drag of his dick brings you back from your cock drunk haze, his words ringing in your brain as he watches your lashes flutter.

“Tight like a Lyseni virgin,” He buries himself into you until oxygen evades you entirely, all his weight resting on your throat as he leans in, licking a stripe up your throat and biting at your pulse point. “Wet like a pillow house whore.”

You writhe beneath him, fingers curling into the thickly corded forearm that presses you down into the bed, he teasingly slows to a stop only to rocks forwards. Watching your eyes turn hazy as your hips twitch up onto him. Jerkily grinding onto him as you struggle to take a breath.

“Struggling to breathe and you still want me to fill you, tala.” He smiles down at you, lifting a hand from your throat to caress the bone of your cheek. “So desperate for it.”

Oh, how badly you want to spit an insult at him. How badly you want to punch him and pull on his hair and suck marks into the muscled line of his shoulder.

He lifts the heel of his palm slightly, just when the edge of your vision was beginning to cloud. A quick respite of air before he’s pressing a bruising kiss to your pouty lips. Teeth digging into your bottom lip as he fully cups the side of your face. Tongue pressing into your mouth intrusively as he overwhelms you. Full of cock, his tongue, and being pinned to the bed by the entire weight of him.

The red hot coil in your stomach is cooling quickly, fading away into nothing as he devours you in the most deliciously possessive kiss you’ve ever had. His thumb presses roughly into the bone of your cheek as he thrusts gently into you. There’s a bloom of pain in your lip as he begins pulling away, teeth biting your bottom lip as he lifts himself back up. Blood smears your pearly white teeth, and you can taste it on your tongue.

Your chest heaves as you grab a fistful of his hair, pulling his face back down so you can kiss him roughly. You practically consume him with this kiss, wanting and needy as you fight to gain control. He pants out a chuckle, thumb pulling on your chin as he licks over the cut and your teeth. Your fingers tangle in his white strands and you give a sharp tug, the rasp that escapes him sends a needy throb through your cunt. But you take his unfocus as a chance to lick into his mouth, cunt throbbing as his lower half folds you over, sinking into you so deeply it makes your hips twitch and writhe in pain.

You fight against the pain, neck aching as you crane up against his weight, biting his lip harshly until you feel the break of his skin between your teeth. Blood mixing in your mouths as he pants into your mouth, thumb hooking into the corner of your mouth as he looks down at you with something akin to satisfaction.

“Smile, tala.” (niece)

You breath in shallowly, greedily taking in air that you neglected yourself of.

“Uh-uh,” He squeezes your cheeks together, until your lips pout and he presses down onto your jaw hard. “Smile.”

And you do, lips pulling up as best they can with his fingers holding your jaws apart. He lets his fingers loosen so he can watch your teeth peak out from beneath your abused and bloody lips. You can guess that you both look the same, blood staining your teeth a burning carmine. The colour of House Targaryen.

“Good girl.” His voice is condescending as he pats your cheek roughly, pushing himself back up, and sitting back on his knees as he stares down at you through wispy strands of platinum hair. Dick sitting heavy inside you, fill to the point of it being a bit hard to breathe. Your sheets reeks of sweat and sex, and the iron tang of blood sits in the air and on your tongues.

His hands smooth over your thighs, thumb running along a pink scar nestled closely to your knee.

You prop yourself up on your elbows, tits on full display while you look up at him through those pretty lashes, admiring the scars that mar the pale skin of his torso and the blood the runs a rivulet down his chin. “What are yo-“

He unwraps your legs from his waist, grabbing at the back of your thighs and pushing them towards you. You whine at the sudden movement, the blunt tip of him nudging against what the deepest parts of you. Pressing you in half with ease until he can hold your legs against his chest with one arm. The other coming to rest against the soft spot of your stomach as he hovers over you.

“Fucking an heir into you,” He presses a quick kiss to your calf before he’s snapping his hip forward and pressing down on your stomach. And that’s when you feel him. You let out a breathy moan as he fucks you, with your back arched toward him as you let him take you.

Like a virgin during her bedding ceremony.

His fingers leave pale prints in your skin as he grips onto the meat of your thighs so tightly. His thighs slapping against the backs of your legs while he fucks his length into you. With his arm wound tightly around your knees, there’s no way you can move or adjust or even move with him, you’re practically in his lap as he uses your hipbone for leverage.

Choked-out pants and whiny breaths are the only noise you can make as the hand that was holding your legs together drifts to your soaked pussy. Thumb slipping through until he bumps into your clit —he can tell by the way your tits heave and your cunt clenches impossibly tighter— and he can’t help but snicker as he presses down onto the poor thing. Hands used for more than just sword fighting, skilled in pleasing wives long gone that were no doubtingly three times older than you, are so deliciously textured.

“Hightower votrītsos nȳmagon wal morghūljagon.” Your maternal house is spat with hatred, he punctuates it with thrusts that grow more violent as he claims you. (hightower cunt calls men to die.)

“Iksā kempa isse nyke, issi ao daor, kepa?” You heave the sentence, attempting to speak without falter as he continues his selfish pleasure seeking manhandling. (you are heavy in me, are you not uncle?)

He grunts, nose scrunching up for a moment as a strand of hair dangles between his eyes. Silver locks messy. His thumb flicks over your clit again —a full-bodies shudder follows— so he can stare intently at your bouncing tits without the chatter.

“Aōha Valyrio Eglie jorrāelagon mirre.” (your High Valyrian needs work)

You admire the way his hair falls to his shoulders, undone from its hairstyle tonight at dinner, the slope of his shoulders to the plains of his front. A battlefield of cut muscle and scars that create ridges and valleys. Your eyes dart up as his nails cut into the skin of your calf, his lip curls up as his eyes finally drift from the harsh jerk of your pliable body beneath him, to your lilac eyes.

His eyes are dark, ringed by what little purple you can see in the darkness of your lonely chambers. The way he looks down at you, the look of curiosity, of lust, of hatred, it burns in your throat and makes your thighs quiver as he just stares.

You could nearly compare it to the way Aegon admires his cups, the way he drinks in every hitch of your breath, the way he huffs your scent, the stutter in his hips at every flutter of your cunt around him.

(Akin to Aegon’s lust for Dornish import wine, he drinks you in and savours the way your body begs for the extra inch.)

Your fingers tangle up in the silken sheets of your bed as you stutter, stomach quivering as he keeps his hips in motion, brining you oh-so close to your peak. Though it’s barely enough, used to the drunken fumble of your twin, you need a rougher edge, a little more pain. He’d just need a push.

“Iksā iā buzdari naejot kasta orvorta. Hae se dārys.” (you are a slave to green cunt. like the king)

He hums, brows pinching together as his thrusts grow sloppy and unpractised, like the green boy your husband had been on your wedding day.

“Kostilus ziry ūndan mirros hae bisa,” He circles your clit roughly, pad of his thumb rubbing deliciously against your slick cunt. “gōvilagon aōha muña grēza.” (perhaps he saw something like this, beneath your mothers dress.)

You let out a strangled moan, hips rocking up to meet his every thrust. The coil in your stomach is tightening and heating and making your thighs twitch and tense, and he doesn’t seem to take the movement kindly. The rhythm stutters when he forces one of your legs to his side as he surges forward to capture your mouth in a crushing kiss. Your other leg is caught over his shoulder as he moves in and it stretches muscles you hadn’t know existed in your legs as he bullies his way deeper and deeper, like he owns you, like your his to ruin.

“I would have loved taking your maidenhead.” He breaths the word into your mouth as the cuts on your lips open anew, smearing blood across your mouths, cheeks and noses. The kiss he pulls you into next is careless and messy, all knocking teeth and hot breathes.

“I- I’m,” He cuts you off by wrapping his hand back around your throat, pinning you down as his nose buries itself in the hair on the side of your head.

A blinding heat curls in your stomach and your cunt flutters around the abusive cock he fucks you with. The one leg that wasn’t pinned between you both is quick to pull his hips flush to you as you moan wantonly, though it’s smothered by his hand. Chest heaving and pale baby hairs sticking to your forehead as your lashes flutter closed. Taking the last few cants of Daemon’s hips as he finishes inside you, spilling deep inside you with heavy panting accompanied by a groan.

Everything is all warm, floating in your soft bed as the heavy man above you lets his weight onto you fully. Cock keeping you stuffed with his seed.

The hand on your throat drifts to your hair —you gulp down air as you feel an ache begin to form— deft fingers stroking at the loose strands behind your ear as he breathes in the perfume oil of the Dragons Breath flowers you'd chosen for tonight.

“I may take you to wife, with a cunt like that.” He murmurs, fingers tightening around those stray strands of hair as he lifts his face to meet yours. Pupils blown wide as he rolls his hips to nestle nicely between yours. That leg wedged between you both falling loose, and landing on the bed softly.

Oh?

That sentence shouldn't have made you so giddy, nor should it make a delighted grin pull across your bruised lips.

A plan well curated is always fruitful.

TAGS: @avalyaaa

#house of the dragon #hotd #daemon targaryen #daemon targaryen x you #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen x rhaenyra targaryen #aegon ii targaryen #aegon ii targaryen x reader #targaryen incest

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aemondtargaryenonlyfans · 8 months

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Hello!!! Not sure if I’m doing this right, so please direct me if needed ❤️

I would absolutely love modern Aemond with GIF #9 🥵

Kinks: consensual-non-consent, and overstimulation 😋

KINKTOBER SLEEPOVER.

No. 6 -> GIF.

Modern!Aemond Targaryen x fem!Reader

WARNINGS: SEXUAL CONTENT-MINORS DNI; NON/DUB CON, CONSENSUAL NON-CON, p in v, creampie, chase play, overstimulation, somewhat dark Aemond, female Reader

WORDS: 2 K (I don't know what came over me)

NOTES: Gods, idk why but this was a challenge! Thank you so much hehe! 🫂 Hope you like it!

With the whole Targtower side of the family in Dragonstone to celebrate the birth of Rhaenyra‘s sixth child and first daughter, Visenya, the townhouse was eerily quiet. A few small table lamps and candles granted just some sense of light, yet it was barely bright enough for your eyes to adjust to it.

Under the premise of having to do something for college – you knew it couldn’t stray any further from the truth – Aemond had been allowed to stay behind, occupying the large house all by himself.

And you two had plenty of ideas to use the time.

Your heartbeat had been pounding in your ears, thrumming against the confines of your ribcage, and you had been more than certain he could hear it from your hiding spot under his older brother’s bed.

His footsteps had been lithe, almost quiet, safe for the occasional squeaking of wood beneath his feet, stalking towards you like a hunter trying to herd its prey. The giggles that slipped past your lips had left them out of sheer excitement or nervousness, you couldn’t quite tell, but once you had spotted the silhouette of his feet standing in the threshold, you became dead silent.

“Where are you, mh?” his deep voice had rasped out suddenly, somehow still catching you by surprise despite knowing he was there. Every breath had caught in your throat, and it had been incredibly difficult for you to keep them shallow enough for him not to notice.

Aemond had prowled around the bed, slowly, carefully, and all you could do was rely on your hearing, since Aegon’s room had been too dark to see anything.

You had heard him stopping, taking in a deep breath. “Maybe I’ll have to start without you then.” His words had tempted you to leave your hiding place, yet you had remembered what you and him had discussed beforehand.

It had seemed as if his footsteps disappeared, getting lighter, and even his presence hadn’t felt so suffocating anymore.

But boy had you been wrong.

A tight grip had seized your ankles, and without a warning, you had been dragged from under the bed, the squeal you released more tinged with fear than amusement. “Got you,” he had rasped, and the smug smirk on his lips perhaps had not been visible, but perfectly audible.

While you had been prepared for him to drag you back to his room, you were utterly confused when he had thrown you on the king size bed you not-so-long-before were hiding under.

“Aem–” you tried to reason, but were quickly silenced when his hands yanked down your leggings in one, swift tug. Out of instinct, you squeezed your legs shut, the cold air hitting your soaked cunt, but Aemond did not seem to mind, his large hands fisting your tank top before they tore the flimsy fabric apart.

In a matter of seconds, Aemond had flipped you onto your belly and proceeded to straddle your thighs, pressing his full weight down on top of you to pin you to the mattress. It made your body unable to move, tears brimming in your waterline already.

“Shush now, bunny,” he murmured, not so gently massaging your shoulders. Something cold touched your skin where his hands were, but you couldn’t make out what it was. “Found you, and now I’m claiming my prize.”

There was not much left of the usual smoothness in his voice, a rougher edge now more than prominent despite him murmuring and drawling the words. The feigned softness sent a shiver down your spine that settled at the apex between your legs.

“I was so close to doing this without you, to just fuck my hand to the thoughts of your sweet cunt, but your cute, little giggles, fuck,” his words were interrupted by a heavy groan. “I just have to have you, and you will let me, right?”

His hands on your shoulders were not at all as comfortable as the times he had massaged you on one of your movie nights – but comfortable and soft wasn’t what you wanted anyways. Not tonight.

You tried to squirm away from his grasp, which earned you a disappointed scoff from him.

And that was when the cold thing in his hands came to use.

“Really want me to tie you up, sweet thing, mh? So desperate?”

His weight on top of you shifted forwards, and soon enough both your wrists were tied to the edges of the headboard, the cold satin tie not doing much to cool your hot and flushed skin.

With your heartbeat still pounding in your ears, you barely heard him opening the zipper of his jeans, pushing them down enough to free his rock hard cock. As he dragged the tip through your drenched folds, you bit your lip while Aemond released a relieved groan.

“You’ll be a good girl for me, won’t you?” he asked, serving a slap to your ass that had you squirming again. “Beg for me to make you feel good, bunny.”

“P-Please,” you sobbed, burying your face in the pillow beneath you.

He seemed desperate, considering that was all the begging it took to get him going.

He thrusted his cock into the crevice of your ass once, before one hand groped your hip roughly enough to raise it and angle it to his liking. As he forced himself into your tight core, your hands balled into fists, and your teeth dug into your bottom lip to stifle a moan. But to no avail.

With your walls practically choking his throbbing cock, you and Aemond moaned in unison, whereas yours turned into a whine as he immediately set up a pace that knocked the air straight out of your lungs.

It perhaps was the adrenaline and the animalistic manner in which he claimed you, but not long after that, you toppled over your edge. The force of your orgasm left you in a dazed state that robbed you of any coherent thoughts, your body becoming limp. At first, the overstimulation was not too bad – until you noticed that Aemond’s release didn’t follow immediately after yours.

“Feels good, huh?” he groaned, making his intentions clear. The limpness disappeared, tension taking over your body. You tugged on the ties to escape the aching between your legs in vain.

“N-No,” you whined, pathetic tears running down your flushed cheeks while the rest of your body betrayed you. Your walls fluttered and trembled around him, and the overstimulation subsided enough for pleasure to take over again. The urge to pee became prominent in your mind, and you knew that, even if you could trust the urge, he’d gladly let you pee the bed if you wouldn’t resort to saying the safe word.

Each time his throbbing length slid into your cunt, embraced by your tight walls, you grew more and more addicted to the building pressure inside of your body.

“Give me another,” he groaned, “I want it.” For a split second, you weren't sure if it was Aemond or Aegon pounding into you from behind, since he certainly sounded like his older brother – a spoiled man-child that always got what he wanted, whenever he wanted.

You whimpered and whined, hands clawing the cold satin to keep yourself grounded. “N-No,” you panted, “t-too much… too full.”

And while you firmly believed that would be enough to have him stop, even though you didn’t really want him to, Aemond merely snaked a hand under your body to toy with your clit, matching the merciless snaps of his hips.

It was a mix of heat, pain and pleasure surging through your veins like wildfire, turning your vision blurry, and forcing your body to the point it didn’t cooperate anymore. His touch was overwhelming, causing you to gasp into the pillow.

Your back arched, and your blurry vision turned hot-white from how intense that second orgasm was. Even though you were in a haze, torn between pleasure and pain, you noticed the falter in his thrusts and the strained groan he released as he tried to fuck you through your second orgasm. It felt good to know it was just as torturous for him as it was for you.

It didn’t take more than a few seconds for Aemond to recover and regain his composure, whereas you were rendered a drooling mess. He slammed his hips into yours to bury himself to the hilt, the sounds of skin slapping skin even louder than your whines and his grunts.

Your mouth was agape, the pillow damp with your saliva and tears. Your body was at the point where even the tension in your arms had gone out, resting limply between the struts of the headboard, dragging forward and back with each movement of him.

You thought your body had enough time to get used to his pace and size, but each thrust brought you closer to the certainty that your body might split apart.

Your thoughts were interrupted when Aemond’s hips stilled, pubic bone pressed against your ass. With his breath heavy and erratic, it was clear that he had reached his climax, throbbing cock spending itself deep inside of you. “Fuck,” he cursed, voice tinged with a hint of relief. While you were expecting this to be the safe call for it all to end, he caught you by surprise when he easily picked up his previous pace again.

The way his grunts and groans sounded more strained than normal made clear that he was fighting the same battle against the overstimulation than you did, but it seemed he just wasn’t satisfied with you coming only twice for him.

“One more for me, bunny,” he rasped. “That’s all I need.”

His seed oozed out of your assaulted hole with his ministrations at this point, coating his cock and dripping down his balls, acting as added lubrication. The sounds were lewd, squelching and slapping filling the room each time he hit the spot inside of you that made stars dance along your vision.

With the heat building inside of you for a third time – you weren’t even sure if it had left after the second orgasm – the awful, aching pleasure crawling to the surface, you wanted to scream, but nothing more than another whimper left your lips.

Aemond fucked you through your third high, the erratic snaps of his hips elongating the pleasure. His hand had long left your clit, only to be replaced by his heavy balls, and each time they slapped against your sensitive clit, your body jerked from the force of the aftershocks and overstimulation.

“That’s it,” he cooed, his thrusts becoming slower and softer until they eventually seized. “So fucking hot.” Both hands groped your ass, squeezing and teasing your flesh while he granted you a few moments to come down, to catch your breath.

If you had to stand up just now, you were certain you’d fall face first, your legs completely limp and not able to cooperate.

Aemond leaned forwards to release your wrists. His cock was still nestled snugly inside of your twitching walls, a white rim surrounding the base, and the aftershocks and overstimulation took a lot longer to subside. His hands wrapped around both your wrists to gently massage and rub the skin, soothing the discomfort the ties probably had brought you.

Your face was buried in the pillows, and you found it hard to focus on anything he said. “You did so, so well for me,” he praised, slowly pulling out. With you still lying on your stomach and the townhouse still being poorly lit, you didn’t see him flinching at the friction he caused himself.

Aemond returned seconds later with a cloth to clean you up, before he scooped you up in his arms. You buried your face in his chest, inhaling his calming scent. “I’ll get a bath ready for you,” he said, slowly walking towards the bath. “You get to soak while I clean up your mess. And after that, I’ll join you, how does that sound?”

You lazily blinked up at him and nodded, a tired smile on your lips.

While you should be touched by his gentle side, by how well he was providing you with aftercare, all you could focus on was the next time his family would be out of town.

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knightsickness · 6 months

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i really enjoy ridiculous birth order/gender asoiaf hypotheticals (‘what if cersei was born a boy?’ ‘what if jace was born a girl?’) but my favourite is ‘what if all of alicent’s kids were girls?’ especially bc they always assume otto would still try to push girl aegon’s seconddaughter ruling queen claim over rhaenyra’s which i’m not saying would never happen (esp assuming strong boys situation remains the same) but i think it is unlikely. he’s ambitious but he’s not cartoon stupid evil ambitious there’s a reason the greens having a male heir (w two sons of his own) and two male spares is politically significant. realistically what happens in the case of four targtower girls is alicent has to keep going until she either gets a boy (making the four daughters a footnote bc you know that boy’s called aegon) or dies

#asoiaf #a song of ice and fire #hotd #house of the dragon #aegon ii targaryen #aemond targaryen #otto hightower

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mhsdatgo · 3 months

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I’m going to be petty for a moment after reading that anon post and say for all of Team Black’s experience and all of their dragons they had devoted to their cause and their far more experienced dragon riders… how many of these Dragons did these 3 green boys take out?

2 of them were teenagers. 2 of them rode fairly young Dragons, Daemon in the show doesn’t even count Tessarion among the greens adult Dragons. 1 of them had the greasiest bond in history with his Dragon, stronger than any rider and Dragon bond on team black.

For all of team black’s alleged experience, the war was certainly not an easy one like they thought it would be and the King whose name is written into history is Aegon II. Rhaenyra remained a Princess.

Indeed the Greens did clown them a bit, especially Daeron with small baby Tessarion did the most out of the Targtowers IMO. (Even if he died in a tent. My poor boy.)

I do hate the argument that Alicent's children are less Targaryen because "their eggs didn't hatch." While we don't even know if they had eggs in the first place. They act like since Jaehaerys and Alysanne and some other kids were put eggs in their cradles then it happens to everyone, like no.

It doesn't happen that much. The Conquerors did not have a cradle egg. Their sons and Rhaena didn't have a cradle egg, Dreamfyre was a hatchling that was given to her at 9. Daemon and Viserys did not have a cradle egg. Aerea and Rhaella didn't have that either. And that's just a few.

I've never heard anyone say they weren't "true" Targaryens because of it. (And don't even try to pull that tradition stuff on me.) You don't need a certain % of blood to be able to have a dragon.

On Aegon II being remembered as King I've got another way of thinking. Both of the Teams managed to get to each other's goal but never their own. The blacks wanted Rhaenyra to sit the throne and be remembered as Queen but Aegon did that instead. The greens wanted their bloodline to survive but Rhaenyra's son sat the throne instead.

#hotd #house of the dragon #anti team black #pro team green #pro alicent hightower #cradle eggs #aegon ii targaryen #aemond targaryen #helaena targaryen #daeron targaryen

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meraxesmoon · 10 months

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May I request Yandere Platonic team black and team green (all of them separate) with a fem reader who is very flirty and sleeps with any person she wishes because she gives into her desires. Her platonic Yandere friends will not be happy when they find out she has been sleeping with a bunch of guards and Lords and ladies. They do lock her up once finding out, but what if the reader flirts with them and tries getting them into bed with her? Reader has sexual feelings for them and wants them badly.

warnings: yandere, degenerate behavior, unhealthy sex habits, aegon is not platonic, I think, this is called being hypersexual right?, some religious undertones

┍━━━━━━━ ˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗━━━━━━━┑

Everyone is absolutely stressed.

I imagine that (Name) is like a sister to Rhaenyra, so Alicent most definitely blames her for their darlings corrupted nature. Otto tries to get their darling into some conversion therapy, but... it doesn't ever work.

The Targtower kids have very different views on (Name)'s sexual nature.

Aegon is the one who indulges in their sexual deviancy. I know everyone is supposed to be platonic, but I can definitely see him sleeping with (Name) if she would initiate it. He's a horny degenerative man and has little to no self-control. He'd happily jump into bed with (Name), and joins her in most of her sexual excursions. Aegon definitely gets a little jealous when he learns that (Name) is sleeping with tons of other people, though. He's sort of a baby.

Helaena is not involved. I can't imagine her having much interest in sex or anything similar, so she generally just shoots (Name) down when she wants to get freaky. Helaena adores her, of course, but she doesn't wish to be involved. That's not to say Helaena judges their darling, because she absolutely does not, but she just doesn't want any part of it.

Aemond would take after his mother in the way that he's very pious. He rarely takes part in any degenerative behavior, and is obviously repulsed by Aegon's behavior. You can imagine his panic when he realizes that his darling girl is sleeping around like that. Aemond finds this worrying, but ironically enough he doesn't blame his darling for their behavior. She's his sweet angel who can do no wrong! He's sort of delusional. If Aemond finds those who have corrupted his darling girl, they best pray for their lives.

As for Team Black, they're just... hypocritical. Rhaenyra especially.

Rhaenyra does not believe that her darling should be sleeping around with just anyone. She thinks that (Name) should be cautious of who they sleep with, and this mostly comes from her experience with Criston. Rhaenyra doesn't especially believe in sexual freedom. She just does whatever the hell she wants. However, she's also very protective of her little love, as she's very important to Rhaenyra.

Daemon, on the other hand, could care less. As long as (Name) is safe and not getting serious with anyone and debating marriage, he couldn't care less about who she's bringing into her bed. He just doesn't care, because he's also a whore <3

tried a little bit different formatting, I feel like my posts look messy and I don't like that lol

I also didn't add any of the velaryon boys bc they're babies, the same goes for daeron

#cw: yandere content #cw: yandere blog #cw: yandere #yandere team black #yandere team green #yandere hotd #yandere house of the dragon #yandere headcanons #yandere imagines #yandere content #yandere #kay writes #rhxegal

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camlovesjace · 1 month

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No grave can hold my body down, I'll crawl home to her.

Jacaerys Velaryon x oc!fem Targtower. Part two, -part one, here:

https://www.tumblr.com/camlovesjace/747473041907449856/no-grave-can-hold-my-body-down-ill-crawl-home-to?source=share

WARNING: war stuff, violence, grief, etc. SINOPSIS: Cellys thinks Jacaerys is dead, the whole kingdom mourns the crowned prince while the war pushes everyone and everything apart. All must choose.

The days were a torture, the nights even more. His face seemed to haunt her anywhere she could look at, his honey eyes, those who capture her whole heart and tempted her to worship him until her last breathe. The lords were ashamed, like if the biggest burden were resting on theirs shoulders, and how could they not feel like that? Even the white haired girl felt ashamed, ashamed of being alive while Jace wasn´t. It felt totally wrong...to be in a world without his presence, to know that her name will never come out of his mouth, that his hands will never touch her again, that his gaze will never find her own in this lifetime once again.

Aegon and her mother moved from forced to stay into her bechambers to force her to get out of them, but Cellys wasn't really interested in keep pretending that a piece of her had not die with Jace. The sheets of her bed were glued to her skin, in a mix of tears and pain, her cries in the moonlight kept the whole castle awake. Her sobbing were a constant reminder of the life this was was stealing from them. Not only the lives of those who fight for the greens, but also to their enemies. The lost of Jacaerys Velaryon, prince of Dragonstone and heir to the iron throne, was a stab in the guts of everyone.

Maester Eustace stayed loyal to the young boy, claiming him as legitimate and denying the comments of those who dare to call him bastard, even if those rumors were true or not. Aegon knew Cellys would be destroyed and devastated, and it was happening in front of his eyes. She barely ate, her pale skin turned into a gray almost lifeless, her white hair was silver and her eyes seemed empty. All the rage in her stopped suddenly, it was like if she were a shelf of the old fearless princess who always had something to say.

Seeing her like this wasn´t usual at all.

Now it was all silence, empty and breaking silence. No words, no fight, just a deep whole of darkness. And she was not fighting against it, Cellys was just letting it ate her.

"No, mother..." she spoke, refusing the petition of the old green queen about walking in the gardens. Her voice was slow, hoarse from all the crying of the last night. Half a moon had passed since the death of the eldest son of Rhaenya and Cellys Targaryen was already rotting from inside.

"Do you want to keep living like this?" Alicent asked, yet her question didn't get any answer from her younger daughter "He...he was..." she spoke but when the young woman gaze her she closed her mouth, unsure if her words would help or make her feel worse.

"Do no insult him in front of me" Cellys said, thinking about the worst.

"I was not about to insult him" the old queen said, sighing "I know how much you cared about him, i know it...but he wouldn't want you to consume yourself with the pain of his death"

Cellys knew Jace would not want that, if he would be here he would literally pick her up from bed and take her to take sunlight, he would try to distract her with anything to not let her felt alone. He would want to her to live, and move on...to find happiness again.

But he wasn't there, and that was the most unbearable feeling.

Cellys doesn´t know if Rhaenyra found his body, or if the sea sank him. The thought of his body alone, cold and forlorn made her want to die as well.

"I..." she whispers, but the knot on her throat cut off any words, she wanted to cry but the sore on her eyes was painful. She wanted to ask her mother to let her go to Dragonstone, to talk with Rhaenyra and...at least, confess that her heart the one of his son were one. Even if a marriage didn´t tied them officially, their souls were one.

But now she was only a half of that soul, cursed to try to find a glimpse of him her whole life.

He never made her his own, her womb never carried and never will carry a child of his, his blood and flesh. And she will have nothing to remember him but her own memories, that will deteriorate every moon, every second.

She missed him, and she wouldn't doubt to die instead of him in any chance she could get.

His lungs were sore, every breath felt like the slowest torture. His eyes were still closed, soft gasps rolled out of his tongue when the unknown hands on his back moved to heal his wounds. The pain on his chest was overwhelming, and yet his mind was consumed by her face.

"Cel..." he says, but a gasp of pain cut his words, his whole body aching while the soft cries ran out of his mouth "Cellys"

He called her, hopeful to hear her voice against his ear, to see her face, but the touch of those hands weren´t hers. The warmth was not the same as the one she has.

"Eis baos han daar" an old woman said and he couldn´t understand her, the language was something he'd never heard before.

-the boy had woke up-

"Han esse jeiclis?" someone asked -is he still hurted?-. Jace felt a wave of cold sweat ran over his back, he stayed there, trying to not be seen like a threat. But that voice, the voice of a man, was very familiar.

"Naor, we essese kao jeiciness" again, the woman who was taking care of his wound spoke those new words. -yes, but he will heal-

He opened his eyes, breathing heavily and biting his lower lip to hold on a cry of pain. He felt embarrassed for being crying like this like a child but the pain was too much to handle. Then a man kneel beside him and the face of Lord Stark blind him for a second, until the feeling of relieved hit him. A soft smile showed up on his face and Jacaerys tried to do the same yet he was sure that it must have looked like a grimace.

"Prince" The man said, almost proud to see that he survived. The arrows on his back looked bad but he was awake and that was a good sight.

"Cregan" Jace says back, he tried to get up from the small mattress but his friend stopped him, shaking softly his head. The background sound were a mix of man's speaking and horses noises, it was an army...

"No, stay there, you need to heal" he spoke and then his dark eyes found his own, and everything that needed to be said spoke for itself in between their gaze. Both knew what will happen next, and Jace was ready to face it, to get back his mother and his own birthright...and to take his woman back to his arms, where she belonged "We have came to fight for our dragon queen"

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ladytargtower · 1 year

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Modern Targtowers :

Imagine your invited to the Targaryen summer house from your best friend Helaena . One morning you decide to go for a morning jog . The sun is slowly rising , the most beautiful part of the day , well that and sunset according to you . It’s decently warm . You wear leggings and a sleeveless top , air pods in , hair braided down your back. On your way back to the house you see Daeron on the tennis court .

Your sweaty and gross but ……

Also: thinking of maybe making a series of modern targtower imagines ,possibly short fics if anyone there is enough interest or feedback

#ewan mitchell #aemond targaryen #tom glynn carney #aegon targaryen #lucas lynggaard tønnesen #daeron targaryen #modern au targtower #my targtower boys #modern targtower series ?#hbo house of the dragon #house of the dragon #fire and blood

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snowblack-charcoalwhite · 20 days

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if you read/watched harry potter, Which houses would the Targaryen siblings be in? (Aegon, Aemond, Hel, Daeron and Rhaenyra) in your opinion.

Hi! Thank you so much for such an interesting question! I've been thinking on Targtowers' Hogwarts house placement basically since finishing the book but never expressed my thoughts here:)

Well, Aegon and Aemond to me certainly are proud students of House Slytherin.

They actually represent two types of Slytherins: Aemond is a fiercely ambitious one, determined, self-confident to the point of arrogance - and extremely loyal to those he considers his own. The latter also describes Aegon who is more cunning, strategic and resourceful. Besides, both brothers are very resilient, goal-oriented and self-reliant.

Helaena is a Hufflepuff girl.

Patience, gentleness, serenity and kindness - it's all about her. She would know and love all the plants in Professor Sprout's care and be her absolute favourite.

I've had the most difficult time with Daeron: it's almost a draw between Ravenclaw and Gryffindor, but the former prevailed for me (despite the "Daring" part).

Actually, I have a whole headcanon about the youngest Targtower kid. When Daeron's time came, The Sorting Hat got quite puzzled as well as he seemed equally well suited for Ravenclaw (with his quick wit, diligence and hunger for knowledge) and Gryffindor (with his valor and selflessness). And here my headcanon becomes forked. If the Hat asked Daeron himself whether he wanted to join Ravenclaw or Gryffindor, at the last moment his heart would advise him to choose the latter (although he had been preparing himself to become a Ravenclaw student for years). If it was the Hat who made the choice, it would put our boy in Ravenclaw. My mind chose the second option (possibly, because I am a proud Ravenclaw myself and I feel like Daeron, of all Targtowers, is the closest to me in terms of personality). For the longest time the boy would be tormented by doubts whether he really belongs there (mainly it would be the protector of the family in him speaking) but then he would come to terms with the fact that one doesn't have to join the House of the Bravery to actually be brave.

As for Rhaenyra, I picked a house for the book version of her because for me it feels like show!Rhaenyra (post Ep5 one at least) doesn't have much personality to analyze or to vibe with. So, the book!Rhaenyra is also a Slytherin, I think (to be honest, I don't vibe with this version either so Rhaenyra enjoyers might say it's a total miss, and I'm not even going to argue with them). The conclusion was reached by a process of elimination plus by taking into consideration the 'ambitious' and 'self-confident' part.

#asks #aemond targaryen #aegon ii targaryen #helaena targaryen #daeron targaryen #daeron the daring #rhaenyra targaryen #hotd #house of the dragon #targtowers

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bucknastysbabe · 4 months

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A day in the life of ✨Ser Criston Crispin Cole✨

The bestest kingsguard to ever and he doesn’t break vows or kill innocent people but has trauma and ptsd and a big throbbing ahem

Rating: Everyone

Tags: this is silly goofy, I even made some visuals, Criston rounds up the Targtowers, I finally gave a name to Aemond’s twin, Aemond’s irrational fears, Incel Knight has Issues, Aegon being a creature per usual.

Tagging some fools: @aemonds-holy-milk @aemonddtargaryen @fairysluna @arcielee @bambitas (ur man is trying)

“You what?,” he echoed to Aegon, laid out in the streets of Flea Bottom. While Aegon did appear as a piece of scud needing to be scraped off the cobblestone— Ser Criston gleamed in his armor and white cloak. White horse too. White horse armor. Totally not to overcompensate for anything like oath breaking and other heathenry.

The scud with blonde hair rasped, “I fucked an Ibbenese whore, she was a sight! You should’ve seen her hair, the bush, I needed a Dragonkeeper.” Criston held up his hand to silence the fool, growing disgusted. The prince laughed before vomiting right on the kingshorse’ lacquered hooves.

Ser Cole stared blankly, dreaming of nasty, awful things. That may include something along the lines of murder. Again. He didn’t mean to, okay? Criston got off the equine and kicked Aegon once for good measure. The idiot squawked, “Ow, fuck, I just emptied my guts! Hold on!”

The Dornishman ignored his prince’s whining and slung the wannabe jester up onto the hind of the horse. He sighed in annoyance, climbing back upon the destrier and riding back towards the keep. Aegon started up with a hoarse laugh. He rasped, “Y’know a little hair doesn’t hurt anyone Cole, I know you prefer yours on the Valyrian- CRISTONNNN!”

Criston smirked a bit having reached back and backhanding the Prince. Lovely Alicent granted him ‘any means possible’. Which mean he got to slap around Aegon for fun. It was quite a stress-reliever, truly. The eldest prince continued, “I’m still the prince you can’t just,” then again he was smacked in quick succession, “FUCKING QUIIIITTTT!!”

Ser Cole held back a chuckle at Aegon’s sniveling. They reached the keep now, Criston hauling the heir inside. Aegon whined, “Jus’ take me to my room you beast!” The brunette sighed, “No can do, you smell like the inside of a whaling barge. Since you enjoy fucking Ibbenese.��

“Don’t knock it til’ you try it,” the prince grumbled.

He was swiftly deposited into the baths. Criston felt he need to change his clothing now, the filth of Aegon smeared all over his clothes, horse, and soul. Yuck. He could die, honestly. Really wanted to awhile back but Alicent took pity and so forth.

The man ran a hand through his hair. He needed to go to the rookery now. Criston maintained a long-standing chat with the youngest prince, Daeron. The boy seemed to be relatively ‘normal’ compared to the rest of the Hightower Dragon breed. Smart, valiant, knowledgeable, lacking that murderous instinct and eternal burning fire of hatred that Criston and Aemond shared. The kid was off to a good start already.

Criston looked through the plethora of ravens once he arrived, shoving off the Maester trying to help. He knew their raven— it had a strange white feather on the left wing. He smiled when he spotted the feather in question, cheering, “Aha, told you.” The Maester grumbled under his breath. Criston ignored it.

But the Maester did say in case the reader was curious: “Oathbreaking dornish viper curly haired pretty face bitch monger of marcher spawn.”

Meanwhile the Kingsguard unrolled the little letter and read with a soft curl of his lips.

“Dear Ser Criston,

I hope to be able to see you at the next tourney, I heard about you rendering Breakbones to Brokenbones! How amazing your skills are. I hope to be as good as a jouster and knight as you one day….blah blah blah

I hate to ask this but the question has been at my mind. Mother may have got very intoxicated her on her visit with Gwayne and I a fortnight ago now? She may have slipped in a rant of anger? Not at you though. But I must inquire, family to family, I consider you Ser as family. Even if we have never met!

Did you actually bed Rh—nyr-?

No need to answer if I have offended, have a splendid day good Ser! xoxo Prince Daeron Targaryen.”

Criston’s smile slipped into a frown. He gazed blankly into the mid-distance. Then stepped towards the nearest opening.

He stepped back and sighed. That felt better. He turned to the Maester scattered on the floor, apologizing. Criston tried to hold a hand out for help but the little man hissed, “You have problems Ser! I do not need those demons that haunt you!”

Well. The prick wasn’t wrong. Criston had other things to tend to. He probably should go see Helaena and the children now. The white knight was a busy sort and not even Lord Commander! He could draw pride from that, standing a little taller after the blow in the letter.

Jaehaerys and Jaehaera played on the floor with a handmaiden. Criston took a moment to pause. Aegon must’ve named the children. Why didn’t he get somewhat creative? He paused again. Helaena would’ve likely named the twins Spider and Spiderette so he’d just move on now, yep, nothing new with the Hightower Targaryens.

He looked at the handmaiden and inquired, “Where is the princess?”

She pointed to the opened door to the balcony. Criston sighed and walked out there to see her leaning precariously over the sides. His eyes widened and he ran over to yank her back. Helaena shrieked and yelped, “Do not move your feet! Don’t!” She still was in his arms, legs jerked up as she frantically looked around.

Criston stayed still, out of fear of whatever bug or creature’s life. If he were to accidentally squish it— oh gods the girl would be bedridden for a week. Helaena whispered, “You messed me up! I almost had her!” The knight replied drily, “Had who, my princess?” The princess went on to ramble about some sort of Summer Isles beetle.

Criston just stood like an idiot until there was a creeping on his neck. He hissed urgently, “I believe you should check my nape for your creature!”

Wide eyes stared. “Your what?”

“The fucking beetle is crawling on me! I do not wish to die a violent death princess!”

“Oh!”

The legs on his neck were removed and Helaena cradled a fierce looking orange beetle. Criston lowered her gently down, backing away. She chirped, “That would’ve hurt worse than three arrows sticking out of your head.” Criston shivered as blank eyes flicked up at him before back down to her pet. Now he was fit to ruin his breeches. Helaena sometimes scared him witless.

“Thanks Ser Cole, you did end up helping. The children are alright if that’s what you inquire,” she murmured while walking inside, him following her indoors. Criston nodded, still feeling strange. The princess smiled, “I need to return this beauty to her enclosure, thank you!”

He might have walked a little faster than what was reasonable out there. The arrows comment worried him more than the time she told Criston he should beware a ball of Butchers. He had no clue what the hell she meant but whatever! The dornishman would like to die without arrows or anything like a ball of butchers but that was up to the gods.

He sighed and decided to head to his quarters to rest a moment— he rarely received any these days. Criston wearily plodded to his cot and flopped down, just closing his eyes a bit.

SER CRISTON WAKE THE HELLS UP!

Criston sat upright, swinging at whatever was yelling at him, eloquently replying, “Baahmnnfhgh!” He stopped swinging when Aemond’s twin Valaerys cursed, “I’m not the damn villian, come with me!” She held out a gloved hand and he let the younger princess lead him out of the White Sword tower at a breakneck pace.

“Val, what is exactly the matter here, why are we running!”

She hollered over her shoulder, “Aemond is about to take off on his beast because he got a letter!”

“A letter? That’s silly!”

They took the hidden stairs down to the beaches. Val, Criston’s reluctant favorite, elaborated, “A letter from the bastards, asking about his fear of birds, and they may have put a dead bird in a package? I don’t know he was yelling and squawking all over the place!”

The knight exhaled sharply. He gets good sleep for once and it’s expended on the second son getting his feelings hurt. Well. Cole did kill a man for reminding him of his own hurt feelings. But that’s beside the point, he was sad okay? He felt like a dirty whore that night. No one needs to be the dirty whore!

“Okay, so Aemond’s supersized ego has been punctured because the bastards are aware of his fear of birds? Are you being serious Val?”

She stopped him dead in his tracks and hissed, “When am I not serious Cole? Really? Come on.”

Criston tried to hold back an erection. She was a force when angry. Alas, Valaerys was too young, too outside of his OATH, too hot in a pair of leather leggings- oh Godsdammit. He blinked the thoughts away and followed her to the beach head.

They stopped in their tracks to watch the second son holler at the sea, long blonde hair flipping to and fro. Criston and Val shared a look, watching the scene unfold of Aemond practically hopping in anger, hands fisted.

Criston recognized too much of himself in the angry lad. He hollered, “Quit yelling and come over here!” Aemond stopped throwing his fists and turned sharply. He hissed, “This has nothing to do with you two!”

Criston crossed his arms and replied, “Yes it does, your angry actions could affect the King’s health. I am the Kingsguard and therefore need you to come over here.” Val added on, “And you look like a crazed lunatic yelling at the ocean. Reminds me of the time Uncle Daemon got banished. Again. Rolling in the ocean weeping and such.” Criston grimaced at the thought of the melodramatic Prince, perverted freak.

Okay maybe he was one too but he slipped up once! Stop judging him!

Aemond huffed and stomped over, thin lips turned down as he glared. His lanky arms were firmly crossed over his chest. The prince managed, “I’m not afraid of birds. They’re fucking with me. I need to shame them and their puny dragons.”

Criston clasped a hand on Aemond’s shoulder, sighing, “You are afraid of birds, it’s alright son. But don’t go on the beast to burn Dragonstone, you’d be a bit outnumbered. Besides you’re much better a sword fighter and leader than those mongrels.” Valaerys nodded in agreement, braids bouncing.

Aemond took a look at the ocean and back to Criston, scoffing, “You’re right, I shouldn’t lower myself to childish antics. Oh and Cole, don’t move please. I think she smelt Dornish.”

Criston stiffened up suddenly. When did he not notice the looming figure and hot breath flapping his hair and cloak around. Val stifled a giggle, merlot eyes flashing. Vhagar’s big old ass was right behind him, ready for some scorched dornishman. Criston whispered angrily, “Get your damn dragon Aemond! That thing still thinks we’re in a war and you’re Visenya minus an eye!”

Aemond scoffed indignantly, “Vhagar is much smarter than that! She chose me!,” the blonde grumbled, “She does probably smell Dornish. Apologies Cole.”

Val snickered again before jolting upright when Vhagar made a particularly hungry noise. Aemond hollered at the thing in High Valyrian, waving his arms and pointing back to her spot carved on the beach. Criston shivered, eyes darting to the dragon and back to the princess.

The dragon snarled and huffed, Criston wincing before he heard heavy footfalls and the dragging of her tail. Vhagar was leaving the trio alone. The white knight swore on the Seven he would NEVER be that close to that BEAST ever AGAIN.

Aemond smiled, “There we are, didn’t need the help but here we are. Good night Ser Criston, night my sweet hell bitch sister.” Val rolled her eyes and made a bird noise, flapping her arms at the man. Aemond sniffed and hustled away, a certain stiffness to his posture. He’d go do…whatever Aemond did in his spare time.

Criston let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding and sagged. He looked at Val’s amused expression and mumbled, “You got any problems?” She procured a wine-skin from under her dark cloak and hummed, “Some wine that needs to be emptied. Let’s get out of here before Vhagar decides to have a Dornish snack. I don’t think I have the skill to play Rhaenys.”

He shot back as they entered to tunnels, “You’re much too mean to play her. Anyways what’s the vintage?”

“Dornish Sangria, what else would you think,” she said, raising a sharp brow. Criston eyed Valaerys and praised the princess, “See, this is why you’re my favorite. Don’t have to deal with nonsense. I almost threw up on Aegon. Horrid.”

“Do tell me all about your wonderful day, probably more interesting than mine good Ser.”

They sat on a ledge, far away from Vhagar, and shared the wineskin. Criston felt okay with his day, nothing much but honest work. Somewhat. One can never be fully honest in the Red Keep. He took a sip and the corners of his lips turned up.

#hotd fanfic #criston cole x reader but its not developed yet #Ser Criston Cole #coles day in the life #daeron targaryen #aegon ii targaryen #aemond targaryen #helaena targaryen #hightower targs #cringefails here there and everywhere

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simplynotcapable · 1 month

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I really don’t want this to come across as rude or judgmental, but why do you like Daeron so much. Like I really don’t get it.

i swear the giant post i just made is not directed at you, this is just a funny coincidence. and i don’t find it rude at all!

i actually don’t know! from my first read of fire and blood, i just really loved daeron. i always have.

and honestly i find him way more interesting than i do his brothers.

this child who grew up very separated and isolated from his family, from his heritage, from the infighting that the others are surrounded with because he is sent away at the age of twelve.

he’s born the same year as one of the boys who’s meant to be his enemy, and they share a wetnurse, and they are babes together but they’re never really family.

his brothers are impulsive and willful, but he’s always been quieter; his brothers are so quick to their anger, but he’s always been gentle. he knows their shadows better than he knows anything because he was born there and he’s grown there, he took his first steps and swung his first sword and had his first flight there—but when the time comes, he does more for their cause than either Aemond or Aegon do.

(and yet he doesn’t seem to resent it. because daeron loves his family! he loves them. he loves his brothers as much as his brothers love each other, and he wears their shadows like armor.

to the point that, when his nephews are dead and aemond is dead and every sign says that aegon is too—when hugh cries him king, daeron throws wine in his face. every chance to grab the throne and call himself heir, but he doesn’t take it because he is loyal to them and he loves them so deeply and he grieves them, he grieves them, he grieves them)

and when you look at this—his older brothers being willful and arrogant and angry, having more “fire” in them than Daeron does, and him growing up so separated from the rest of his House—he seems even less Targaryen than the rest of the Targtowers.

and yet, of the four, Daeron’s Tessarion is the dragon that does the most in the war. Aegon’s bond with Sunfyre may be better, but Daeron and his dragon are the ones that make a difference—all the funnier when you think about Aemond refusing to ask Daeron for help at Harrenhal.

and then, when faced with Maelor’s death, we get quiet, chivalrous, “used to taking orders” Daeron lost in his grief. we get to see the Targaryen wrath come out of him, and he rages, and he burns Bitterbridge, but it doesn’t bring Maelor back. it doesn’t fix anything.

and then the youngest prince, the most popular prince, the gentle and the quiet and the clever prince, the prince largely separated from his family but who went to war for them when called, the prince who proved himself a dragon and a soldier during the Dance—he dies unnoticed amidst the flames. we don’t even know who killed him. we don’t know if anyone even did or if the smoke and the fire did it for them.

there’s just something so bitterly tragic and beautiful about daeron’s story specifically, especially compared to his brothers, and i love him to death. the fact that he isn’t present in the show yet and his casting hasn’t been announced haunts me.

#daeron the daring #daeron targaryen #anti team green #team green #anti team black #team black

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dirtytransmasc · 9 months

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Aegon is a shortie, Cole can and will always pick him up and cradle him to comfort his poor boy😭

he's just a little guy with a lot of big feelings and his dad loves him very much and hates to see him upset, so you know he'll always be there to hold him together. doesn't matter if Aegon is 5 or 10 or 15 or 20, he'll always be there for his boy.

Aegon was at peak cuddling age at like 13/14 in my mind. like he loved to be cuddled when he was little, but he wasn't as desperate and in need of it until he was older. so always asking for hugs or to be carried around when he was 5 aged into needing a good long cuddle everyday or his mental health would plummet. and as he got older cuddling just got more and more intense cause he'd sorta latch onto you and you couldn't move, if he wasn't watching something he was practically buried in your side completely, wrapped up in s blanket, insisting on being held onto all the while. sometimes he'd cry or get really quiet, and it soon became clear that this was just how he decompressed, that he had a hard time letting it all out on his own. (2 things to sorta give some insight on my HCs that make it even sadder: this kid was born touch starved and it never really went away even after Criston stepped up as his dad and Alicent healed from Viserys. All of the TargTower kids are some sort of neurodivergent, or at the very least, odd for lack of a better term. Aegon in the sense that he's very sensitive emotionally to things, almost reaching the threshold of "too" sensitive for his own good, but is disconnected from his feelings and can't process it on his own, so it tends to bottle up without clear "reason" or intent on Aegon's part. good thing his family loves him so much, cause he needs their help)

so Criston is so used to it at this point it's really become natural. if Aegon isn't around needing to be best hugged (with the little rocky motion, you can't forget the rocking) or straight up held, he's worried. plus, who would dare to not want their kids to want their love and affection forever? it's as good as it is for Aegon as it is for Criston.

#Aegon was that mid that could only really calmed down by skin to skin until he was 5 or 6 #even then it took time to fully break that habit from him #he's just very emotional but literally cannot process it so he hugs it out #it's good for him #Aegon will be in his 40s and still needing a cuddle from his dad every now and then and I love him for that #aegon targaryen #aegon ii targaryen #criston cole #pro criston cole #pro team green #good dad criston cole #step dad criston cole #dad who stepped up criston cole #Daddy criston cole #hotd #house of the dragon

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pterodactylterrace · 19 days

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Were the green children ever given cradle eggs?

We have confirmation that the Strong boys did, but there is no word of the Targtowers actually getting eggs. We just know that they ended up claiming dragons rather than hatching them.

As far as I can tell, she dragons seem to lay eggs when their rider is pregnant. Syrax brings forth clutches when Rhaenyra is pregnant. All three of Helaena’s children had eggs (presumably from Dreamfyre), but Alicent didn’t have a dragon to lay eggs for her children.

Syrax and Meleys were the only two female dragons with riders when Alicent was having children. Rhaenys seemed past having more children by the time Alicent marries Viserys, and the only presumed male dragon would have been Seasmoke, and I believe Seasmoke would have been too young to reproduce just yet. The longest living creature we have in reality is a bowhead whale, and they don’t reach maturity until 9-10, and don’t actually reproduce until they are around 20. Similarly Galápagos Tortoises don’t begin reproducing until they are 20-25. If we use these real life references as a general guide, Seasmoke would be too young to reproduce when Alicent was having children. Also, we are unsure if Seasmoke was male or female. They were presumed male because they didn’t lay any eggs, but they were also a fairly young dragon when they died.

Rhaenyra’s sons all got eggs because Syrax was bonded to her and would bring forth a clutch with each pregnancy.

Daemon’s daughters had cradle eggs from Vhagar and Caraxes.

Seasmoke was claimed, as was Vhagar, so we know the Velaryons didn’t hatch cradle eggs. It could be possible they didn’t have access to eggs either considering they were on Driftmark and Meleys would need a mate to lay viable eggs.

My theory is that the Targtowers were unable to hatch their cradle eggs for one very simple reason. They were never given them. Can’t hatch a cradle egg if you never had one.

#HOTD #hotd critical

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selfproclaimedunicorn · 25 days

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Bfsjfjajri, this took forever because I get so, so distracted so easily. But here's that sweet, sweet lore @corporalicent

Daenys Targaryen is Rhaenyra's sister who's younger than her by a year. She is soft & feminine & girly & she very much revels in the trappings of being a girl as a sort of rebellion against their dad being disappointed in her not being that sweet, sweet son by Aemma he keeps pining for. It allows her a sense of freedom because it let's people just kind of beigningly ignore her due to "oh she does what she's supposed to." It's equal parts "I like this," & "I can manipulate people this way." Weaponized I'm Soft And Girly And Prone To Hysterical Irrational Emotions.

Her companion & bestie is Lyonel Strong’s youngest daughter, Cassana, & she also winds up starting a secret relationship with Tyland Lannister that culminates in a secret wedding. There's also the Targaryen Weirdness that comes from "I only have same gender siblings" she has to deal with for a bunch of her life & never really goes away even after the Targtower boys are born because, well, Daenys is 14 when Aegon is born. The pressure is off at that point, but her & Rhaenyra both still have to contend with "if one of us was a boy we'd be married, but we aren't so what are we?" Their arc together is going to be very heartfelt & I'm hyped for the feels of "what do I do without an older brother to marry like I'm supposed to?"/"I'm glad Rhaenyra is my sister so I can dream about hunky boys & kiss Tyland without feeling guilty"

Also, I don't get to talk about it a lot, but she is a dragon rider & I made her baby special for her. Her dragon is purple/blue/pink & named "Windscream." Very femme, very girly, this is what Daenys deserves: a dragon that compliments her eyes.

She & Tyland have boocoo kids. Like, 6 or 7? I keep debating one of them, but they have 5 girls & at least 1 boy at the end (Aemma, Jonquil, Genna, Alysanne, Vaella, & Tybolt for sure. MAYBE Gerion).

Also, also I am letting @murmel-malt borrow my girl Daenys as one of her OC Hedaera's kids. Because friendship is trading your OCs around like Barbie dolls

Aldreda Farwynd is my chaotic, bisexual, selkie coded, pirate queen, seal mommy & I adore her so. She's the last living child of Lord Alfric Farwynd of Lonely Light & she is stuck in a succession crisis of her own because of this. She had 20-something brothers that all died at various points in her life, with the one she's fully related to (Alfric has 5 wives) dying before she was even born. Her brothers in order (and with their death details) are as follows:

Euron: died at 35 on a raid

Ronas: died in the cradle before Aldreda was born

Barrian: died at 32 on a raid [same raid as Euron]

Theon: died at 28 from an oral infection that spread

Faren: sailed further west at age 22 & was never seen again, presumed dead

Edgard: sailed west with Faren at age 18, presumed dead

Coren: died at 22 while sailing home due to being caught in a bad storm

Orwen: died at 20 while sailing home, caught in the same storm as Coren

Randar: died at 17 while sailing home, caught in the same storm as Coren & Orwen

Winfirth: died of the shivers at age 3

Trystifer: died at 14 after drunkenly falling from the top of one of Lonely Light's towers

Sigeric: murdered at 15 during a physical altercation about bedding the prettiest girl at Lonely Light

Vernyn: sailed east to try & explore Valyria's ruins at 16

Ulfric: died of a burst belly/ruptured appendix at age 9

Alwin: died at 13 due to an infection from poorly treated wounds

Waeland: mortally wounded at age 12 during a spar with real weapons

Uther: drowned at age 8

Marlyn: slipped & cracked his head open at age 7

Hubert: died in the cradle

Rhys: murdered by poison at his 6th name day

Her dad & his 2 brothers are a whole Thing, but the tl;dr is that Alfric & his full brother are the sons of a Salt Wife, & their brother (the son of their dad's Rock Wife) thinks he is entitled to Lonely Light more than "his dumb, older half-brother with a mainland mom." This gets imparted onto his oldest son, Westley, who is the grossest & most insidious man in the Iron Islands. He manipulates & grooms Aldreda for close to 2 decades before revealing how awful he is by trying to take her claim. Their altercation drives her away from home, putting her in position to become Aegon II's Master Of Ships during The Dance: something Aldreda does in exchange for a royal decree that inheriting Lonely Light is hers by right (following the Andal succession laws Aegon’s claim banks on).

She's 5-ish years younger than Alicent, & their relationship is...it is something. Initially for Aldreda it's "why shouldn't I fuck this hot, obvious lesbian? Don't I deserve comfort?" & for Alicent it's her finally getting egged on to do something with her own desires. They proceed to become each other's character development girlfriends who have actual feelings for each other beyond "this is for me & my pleasure." I'm still debating endings & major events beyond emotional growth arcs, but I know that Aldreda 100% kills at least one person for Alicent’s safety, & that they trade jewelry as part of Aldreda’s weird, fucky Ironborn "we belong to each other" thing. The mutual ownership thing is very important to Aldreda (& the mutual part is part-and-parcel with her growth. It would have just be a "it's about me having you" thing without the growth).

Their relationship is very "we didn't 'fix' each other, we just made each other the better version of who our lived experiences turned us into." Because "fixing" each other would honestly be inauthentic & it would amount to covering Aldreda in way less blood, & that's not very Sexy Pirate of her to not be covered in blood

#oc: aldreda farwynd #oc: daenys targaryen

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