#rhaenyra targaryen fanfiction | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

aemondsbabe · 4 months

Text

Arbor Gold

summary: sharing a drink & toys || rhaenyra treats you to a very special night out

pairing: modern!rhaenyra x f!reader

warnings: mature/explicit, 18+ (minors dni!), no use of y/n, afab reader, wlw, public, fingering, use of a toy, vibrators, mentions of alcohol, mommy kink, sub!reader, allusions to oral, let me know if i missed anything!

word count: 1.9k

a/n: happy day three of 12 days of smuff!! i was sweating writing this one, i can't lie lmao

12 days of smuff masterlist!

gif creds to @gameofthronesdaily!

likes, comments, & reblogs are very appreciated but never required!

🌟add yourself to my taglist to be notified when i post new fics!

“Oh, that’s perfect,” Rhaenyra says to the waiter, watching with a smile as he finishes pouring two glasses of wine with a fancy flourish before setting the bottle on the table, “Thank you.”

With a polite nod, the waiter takes his leave, leaving you and your girlfriend alone once more. Your eyes scan the room once again, taking in the fancy dark wood paneling on the walls and the way the vintage crystal chandeliers sparkled as they cast a low, moody light over the room; the soft instrumental music coupled with the dull hum of other couples and groups of friends sharing quiet conversations comforted you despite the circumstances.

Finally, you let your eyes sweep over Rhaenyra and your lips instantly curved into a soft, sweet smile as you took her in, watching as she took a sip of the decadent Arbor Gold wine. This whole little adventure had been her idea – something fun and new to do, she’d said.

And she doesn’t disappoint, you think with a slight shiver as you shift a bit in the plush booth, the small vibrator she’d taken oh-so much care to work into you earlier presses deliciously against that small, sensitive patch within you.

“Everything alright, sweetling?” Rhaenyra asks, finally catching your eyes from where you’d been absentmindedly staring at the flickering tea candle on the table.

You smile and take her hand as she presses in closer to you, your bare shoulders nearly touching. You can’t help but admire her dress, a mirror copy of yours in every way aside from the color – the dark, blood red silk contrasts so beautifully against her soft, pale skin while the dim lights of the small bar dance off of the black silk of your own dress in smooth, pearlescent waves.

“I’m fine, Nyra,” you can’t help but reassure her with a soft smile as you poke your tongue out to wet your lips before pressing a gentle kiss to the back of her hand, “Just wondering when exactly you plan to start the show.” You tease, nodding to her phone.

“Now where would the fun be in revealing all my tricks?” She gives as good as she gets, her eyes gleaming as she looks you over appreciatively. She takes another sip of the wine, taking the time to swirl it around in her glass before delicately pressing her lips to the rim. You can’t help but bite your lip as she closes her eyes with a pleased hum. “Have you had any of yours yet? You really need to try it, my love, it’s absolutely decadent.”

You reach across the table and grab your glass, swirling the pale yellow-gold liquid around in the same way Rhaenyra did before taking a sip, sighing happily as you taste all manner of sweet, fruity notes.

You go to look at her with raised brows, about to compliment the expensive vintage as well, when she discreetly taps the screen of her phone. You only manage to get a soft, barely there squeak out as the vibrator comes to life inside you and buzzes softly against the most tender spot within you before Rhaenyra quickly leans over and presses her lips against yours, muffling the noise.

You sigh gratefully against her lips as your eyes flutter shut, one of your hands squeezes at her thigh, and you’re grateful that each table is adorned with a long tablecloth as your hips seem to buck up by themselves for a second.

She pulls away after a moment, once she can sense that you’ve calmed down some, and fixes you with a pleased grin before pressing one last, soft kiss against your shoulder. “That good already?” She teases, lifting her glass to her lips to take another sip of wine, “And to think, we’re only on the first level.”

You shiver, knuckles white as your fingers dig into the dark fabric of your dress, your hands pressed tightly against the tops of your thighs as you try and keep your hips still as Rhaenyra taps her phone screen, giggling as she turns the vibrations up a level.

Your skin is flushed, though you aren’t sure if it’s from the wine or from the incessant vibrations within you. You throw Rhaenyra another helpless glance, your fingers digging into her plush thigh as a warning that your peak is approaching.

She merely huffs out a soft laugh next to you and reaches out to tuck a lock of your hair back behind your ear before cupping your cheek, her pale eyes dancing over your face as she admires the blush that’s bloomed across your skin.

“Oh, pretty little thing,” she coos softly, smirking when she notices your lower lip trembling as you desperately try and bite back the moans threatening to spill from your lips, “Are you getting closer, my love?”

You nod as your walls clench desperately around the toy, the movement only serving to press it even more firmly against your sweet spot. You bite down on your bottom lip, your nails no doubt leaving small crescent moon marks against Rhaenyra’s delicate skin, as you try to control your breathing.

Just as you’re about to whisper that you can’t take much more, the waiter reappears, walking up to your table with a polite smile. You nearly cry as Rhaenyra quickly turns off the toy, although you can’t say whether it’s from relief or frustration from being so, so close.

“Is everything to your liking, ladies?” He asks, his gaze lingering on you for a second as he looks between the two of you.

“Everything is perfect.” Rhaenyra answers with a cool smile, casually taking a sip of wine.

“Wonderful, and is there anything else I can do for you all this evening?”

“I think we’re good over here,” she says, smirking as she spares you a glance, “Just bring the check when you get a moment, please. No rush, though.”

“Of course, ma’am.” The waiter says with a polite nod before taking his leave.

As soon as he’s gone, Rhaenyra presses herself close to you and you almost whine when you feel her breasts press against the side of your arm, her nipples hard and aching against the thin fabric of her dress. A chill goes through you at the realization that she’s enjoying this just as much as you are.

“That was going to be a big one, wasn’t it, sweetling?” She murmurs softly, one of her warm hands skimming across your bare thigh as she tucks it under your dress.

“Nyra, please,” you all but gasp, trembling next to her as your center aches, your walls squeezing helplessly at the toy, “Please…” You’re not even really sure what you’re asking for as you beg, your mind covered in a thick fog.

“Mmm,” she sighs, relishing the way you squirm in her hold as she skirts her hand higher and higher up your thigh, until the edge of her fingers are just barely pressing against the center of your thin lace underwear, “I don’t think it’s Nyra tonight, my little darling.” She says with a soft shake of her head, a few strands of her silvery hair falling beautifully against her cleavage.

“Mommy,” you correct yourself with a choked whimper, eyes glassy as you peer up at her, “Please, please.”

“Please what?” She asks, the condescending edge to her voice making your head spin, “Please take you home? Please make you come?” She prompts, eyebrows raised slightly as she smirks.

“I –,” you choke out, nearly jumping out of your skin when she turns the vibrator back on, not bothering to ease you into it as it buzzes away at a high speed, “F-Fuck.” You hiss, your body already tensing as the knot in your belly winds itself up at an alarming rate.

“I think you want to come,” she says lowly, nodding her own head as if to answer the question for you, “Luckily for you, mommy’s in such a giving mood tonight.” She studies your face carefully as she pushes your underwear to the side, her eyes positively sparkling once she feels how wet you are.

You bite your lip harshly, nearly drawing blood, as she begins rubbing circles over your aching bud, not bothering to warm you up as she normally does as her soft fingers press harshly against you. Your head spins as she works you up and up and up, your high building at nearly the same pace as the vibrations within you as she slowly increases the speed of the toy.

Before you’ve even had a chance to process the sensations flowing through your body, your head snaps to her and your eyes are wide as you look at her desperately, soft squeaks sounding from your throat. She merely looks at you expectantly – she may be in a giving mood but that didn’t mean she had to make the getting easy.

“M–,” You barely choke out the first syllable before your eyes squeeze shut, your core already starting to flutter around the small toy, “M-Mommy, mommy!” You urgently whisper, finally finding your voice before gritting your teeth, your breath catching in your throat just as you feel the very beginnings of a familiar tightening overtaking your belly.

“Let mommy have it, sweetling,” Rhaenyra coos, not stopping the movements of her fingers as she feels your bud twitch against her fingers. She murmurs soft praises into your ear as your high washes over you, talking you through it as your hips squirm against the lush fabric of the booth. “That’s a very good girl. Is that such a big one, darling? You did so, so good for me, sweetling.”

Her soft praises nearly send you over the edge again, but thankfully she decides to spare you and turns off the vibrator before slowly extracting her hand from your underwear, taking a second to make sure to move them back into place for you, the small gesture making your heart skip a beat.

She laughs softly next to you, the sound making you open your eyes and you nearly moan at the sight of her dipping a finger, still shining from where she’d touched you, into the half-full cup of wine in front of her. She takes a second to swirl it around before bringing it to her lips, her eyes gleaming as she sucks at the digit; the sight alone is enough to make your tender walls clamp down on the toy but the small, satisfied moan she makes just about sends you spiraling over the edge yet again.

“That’s definitely my new favorite pairing.” She teases, smirking at the wide-eyed look on your face.

“Nyra!” You laugh, your heart racing in your chest as you feel the butterflies in your tummy stir yet again while the two of you dissolve into flirtatious giggles.

Just then, the waiter appears with the check, which Rhaenyra quickly scans over before passing her credit card to him. She turns to you as soon as he disappears around a corner, the coy look in her eyes making you feel flush all over again.

“I can’t wait to get you home, sweetling,” she sighs softly and presses a kiss against the curve of your neck before polishing off the last bit of wine in her cup, “Mommy is absolutely dying for something sweet for dessert…” She teases, raking her hand back up your thigh.

A giving mood, indeed.

tagged lovelies: @helloworldiamnotarobot @drakonflames @marysucks-blog @watercolorskyy @valeskafics @iamaegontargaryenwife0 @aemshaircare @1997babyyyy @lovellies @little-moonbeam-666 @blackswxnn @alerisc

(tags are based on your answers to my google form; if you were mistakenly tagged, please contact me & update your answers on the form! thank you!)

431 notes · View notes

mystcldydrms · 1 month

Text

you're rhaenyra's daughter. ever since birth, your future has been laid out for you. everything has been planned out. your betrothal to aemond had been finalised as soon as the two of you could walk. he has been a dear friend to you your whole life, although he had attacked your brother when he was younger. you have always been looking forward to your and aemond's wedding. but now everything has changed. the news that your betrothed had killed your brother tore you apart. there was no desire in yourself left to still get married to him. the only thing left inside of you was hate and rage. you confided in your mother, knowing she would be on your side. she immediately called off the betrothal, but unbeknownst to you, she already had another man in mind for you to marry. and it was none other than cregan stark.

this idea came to my mind today, and I'm not sure, but I feel like I'd love to write it. I just don't know if I can do it justice, but let me know what you think of it.

#hotd fanfiction #house of the dragon imagines #aemond targaryen x reader #cregan stark x reader #aemond targaryen imagine #cregan stark imagine #aemond targaryen blurb #cregan stark blurb #rhaenyra targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen headcanon #cregan stark headcanon

275 notes · View notes

raz-writes-the-thing · 1 month

Text

Gaze of the Moon (HOTD One-Shot)

Rhaenyra Targaryen x GN!Reader / requests are open

Summary: You and your wife, the Princess Rhaenyra steal a moment of peace together as you prepare for the coming birth of your child.

Fic type: fluff, romance, reflection

A/N: I had intended for this to be fem!reader x Rhaenyra but it wound up GN. This is also for @hotd-bigbang's March 11th prompt.

HOTD: (send an ask to be added to a tag list!)

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

"Did you know of that tale?" You asked softly, brushing your wife's hair back behind her ear as she lay against you in the moonlight. "About the second moon who cracked open from the heat of the sun and let the dragons out?"

Your wife let out a deep breath, the back of her skull pressing into your shoulder as she leaned back against you to peer out at the sky- up at the full moon above. She was gorgeous tonight. Radiant, round- both wife and moon.

The silver rays caught in Rhaenyra's loose hair, free tonight from tight braids and silk ribbons. The way you knew she preferred it. She'd been a wild child who'd grown into a proper lady, though you knew she yearned for the freedom of manhood. If she were a man, things would be easier. You both knew this but didn't care to dwell on it. There was no changing what was.

Rhaenyra hummed, eyes catching in the moon's gaze.

"I'm sure I remember my father telling me such a story once," she affirmed softly, lip twitching ever-so-slightly into the ghost of a smile. Your wife spent so much time stone-faced under the watchful eyes of the court vultures that even in the privacy of your own quarters she sometimes had trouble letting the cracks through. You treasured each of them like jewels as they deserved to be. "I used to stay up late into the eve and watch the moon- waiting for her to split and for the night to grow dark save for the fire of dragon's breath,' she admitted, eyes drawing closed as she thought on the memories.

"Perhaps one day, my dear wife," you said, pressing a kiss to her head before allowing your own to lean back against the cold, stone wall behind you. "Tell me, what is High Valyrian for 'moon'?"

You'd been learning her family's language for some time now, and you were certainly getting there. It was just that you preferred to hear the words from Rhaenyra's tongue. And truly, who could blame you when her voice had such royal lilt? Her voice was a balm for the mind. Or your mind, at the very least. You could listen to her speak for an age and then some.

"Hūra," Rhaenyra replied, a soft knowing smirk on her lips. You repeated it back to her, testing the syllables on your tongue. You liked the way it sounded, the way it felt. You reached a hand around her to brush over her swollen belly, round with child.

"If we have a daughter," you said thoughtfully, "Hūra is a nice name, do you not think?" Your fingers danced over her belly, and you both let out a laugh when you felt the babe kick from within her. Rhaenyra's hand joined yours, squeezing comfortingly. You hastily added, "It is not a traditional name, but I like it."

"Princess Hūra Targaryen," Rhaenrya breathed, opening her eyes to peer at her belly. "It does have a ring to it," she agreed, "and if the little one's restlessness is anything to speak of, the babe likes it, too."

You both lapsed into silence for a while, enjoying the light of the moon, the glint of the stars and the sounds of the night. It was quiet at this hour. Your favourite hour. What else could you possibly want for than this? A loving wife in your arms, a babe on the way, a flask of wine to share and the gaze of the moon on you?

"I suppose it is only fair you get to name one of our children," she said after a while. You'd almost thought her asleep in your arms with how quiet she'd been. "Why not the first. Get it out of the way, hmm?" She teased. "What if the babe is a boy?"

You chuckled softly, flicking at her arm in reply to her jape.

"Thank you, wife. Your generosity knows no bounds. I do not think the bairn is a boy, but if he is, I am quite fond of Vēzos. Best keep with the theme."

"One has to wonder where this sudden passion for celestial names has come from, my love," Rhaenyra mused. "Perhaps we will have twins. The Maester did say it was a possibility. Hūna and Vēzos. Moon and Sun-" Rhaenyra shifted uncomfortably as the babe wriggled under her skin. "I like it."

"Strong names," you added, brushing your fingers through her hair softly, aiming to detangle the few knots that caught in your fingers. "Compassionate names. Perfect for bairns destined for greatness."

You suddenly found yourself hoping for twins. A boy and a girl. Siblings to grow up together and protect each other from the horrors that lay dormant in the realm. You could picture them, age three or perhaps four, playing hide and seek in the gardens. Ages ten and four by their mothers' side on the throne. Ages nine and ten crowned joint heirs to the throne. Ages four and thirty sitting side by side on the throne. Ruling, together. Sun and Moon, over their kingdom. Their birth-right. Protecting each other and keeping each other in check. What was best for the kingdom.

The thought filled you with pride. Oh, yes, you hoped for twins. It wouldn't be long now until Rhaenyra was due. Within a month, most likely. It was part of the reason you both were staying up late at night and enjoying the peace. Once Rhaenyra commenced and completed her labours, there wouldn't be much room for peace and quiet.

And yet, you couldn't wait. You didn't like the thought of your lady-wife in pain, but the thought of your quiet chambers filled with the sounds of a babe or two growing big and strong was perhaps motivating enough for you to bear the thought of her pain. You'd be by her side no matter what, of course. Fuck the Maesters and midwives. This was your wife, your babe. You would be there to support her until she asked you to leave.

"We should retire to bed," Rhaenyra broke your thoughts as she began shifting to stand. "We both need our rest for the day to come. I believe we are making arrangements for catering after the birth."

Ah, yes. The feast the King was insisting upon for the birth of his Grand-Sire. As the birth grew closer, more plans needed to be set. Catering, colours, floral arrangements, gifts for the babe. So many things that Rhaenyra and yourself were set to arrange. You may have enjoyed setting the festivities up, but Rhaenyra would be more than happy to sit out if she could.

You hadn't told Rhaenyra yet, but you'd made arrangements with the cooks to send for the ingredients to make Rhaenyra's favourite sweets. Ones she had not had since she were near a babe herself. The rest of the food, however, you both needed to settle on. A job for tomorrow, quite clearly.

You supported her as she stood, following behind. You stretched out the muscles in your arms and legs, creaking with complaint. You could only imagine how Rhaenyra felt. You left the balcony door open to the bedchambers as you helped your wife shift out of her gown.

Once she was settled into the sheets, Rhaenyra let out a sigh of relief. The bed took the weight off her body and allowed her to settle in. You followed, pressing up against her back to keep her warm against the slight chill of the night.

Rhaenyra took your hand and rested it against her belly. You felt any of your remaining troubles melt away for the moment and pressed a kiss to the back of Rhaenyra's neck.

"Good night, my love," you whispered softly, rubbing your thumb over the silky material of her nightdress. "Sleep well, little one."

You drifted off to the sound of Rhaenyra's soft breathing and the quiet chatter of insects out in the gardens below your balcony, dreaming of the bairns to come, and a life well lived.

240 notes · View notes

ichorai · 8 months

Text

number 13 ; rhaenyra targaryen.

track thirteen of BROKEN MACHINE.

pairing ; rhaenyra targaryen x lannister!f!reader

synopsis ; in another life, she could’ve been with you, she was sure. a life of bliss and a life not ruled by the laws of men.

words ; 5.4k

themes ; angst, mild fluff

warnings / includes ; takes place from e3-8, rhaenyra and reader are bisexual, allusions to sex, infidelity, foul language, lots of time jumps sorry ;-; nearly two decades is crammed into this, reader is later married to jasper wylde and has his children, mentions of other hotd characters, jason lannister being annoying, not quite a happy ending cries :(

The celebration for Aegon’s second name day was in full swing. Large, lavish tents were erected, decorated with flowers and greenery of all sorts. Every which way you looked, there were tables full to the brim with cakes and pastries and cheeses, goblets of wines and platters of fruits. Outside the tents lined stalls offering roasted meats dripping with rich oils, exotic delicacies from Essos, and all sorts of extravagant animals parading for show.

You’d taken to watching the blue peacocks with muted fascination—it was the first time you’d seen birds that large. Sure, the doves at Casterly Rock grew plump and lazy, but they were no grand feat.

Your brothers, the lion twins of house Lannister, Jason and Tyland, stood by your side. They were bickering amongst themselves about who would be the first to speak to the Princess, Rhaenyra Targaryen. They weren’t being too quiet about it either, loudly proclaiming that the other twin would have to wait their turn.

“Toss a coin,” you boredly said, picking up a golden-green grape from a gilded tray on a nearby table and popping it into your mouth. “Though, knowing you two, you’d probably be too bull-headed to decide who gets heads and who gets tails.”

“I get heads!” both of them announced at once. They glared at each other for a moment, before Tyland propped his hands on his hips and blew out an exasperated sigh.

“Fine. You go first. The one that goes last will be the one that she remembers, anyway,” Tyland told his twin, his Lannister pride getting the better of him. He arched an eyebrow and jutted his chin out to the Princess, who’d just strode out of the tent.

You tore your eyes away from the ridiculous birds, fixing your gaze on Rhaenyra. Her hair shone a pearlescent white beneath the sun’s brilliance, nearly as bright as the golden rings she twirled about her fingers, hands clutched closely to the deep red bodice of her dress. She was a grand beauty, you surmised. It was no wonder your brothers were so desperate for her hand—though you were certain they only wanted her for the power that came with her rather than the Princess herself.

A smile twitched over your lips upon seeing Rhaenyra lean over the sweets, sneakily plucking a lemon slice off of one of the cakes, popping it into her mouth just as quickly as she had swiped it.

Off Jason went not a second later, content with speaking to her before his brother. In his mind, he was sure she’d fall in love with him on the spot—how could she consider anyone else when he could offer her anything she wanted? A handsome, strong husband, as much gold as she could yearn for, and the promise of children with golden-silver hair?

“She doesn’t look too pleased,” you murmured to Tyland, studying the way Rhaenyra’s features soured with distaste the longer Jason spoke.

The corner of his mouth tilted upwards in mild amusement, but he said nothing else. Instead, he slunk off to disappear within the tent, needing to speak to the King about urgent matters concerning Prince Daemon’s reckless endeavors.

Jason could feel his little sister’s stare bore into the back of his neck. It made him nervous, despite his larger-than-life ego—he itched to prove to his family that he was capable of winning the Princess over.

“Was your own second name day as grand as this?” he crowed, trying his best to appear nonchalant.

Barely sparing him a glance, Rhaenyra folded her fidgeting hands behind her back. She trained her eyes on the large bonfire situated across the field. “I honestly don’t recall, and neither will Aegon.” There was a twinge of disdain in her voice, but that went largely unnoticed by Jason.

“Lord Jason Lannister,” he said, bowing his head ever so slightly.

Rhaenyra half-smiled. “I gathered that from all the lions.”

Hastily, Jason chanced a look down at his apparel—he was decked in crimson and shimmering gold and embroidered lions of all sizes. He was practically a walking banner for his house. “I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced.”

“Your twin serves on my father’s council,” Rhaenyra told him, narrowing her eyes in scrutiny.

Snapping his fingers, Jason beckoned for a servant to come forth and bring him a chalice of wine. “Tyland is frightfully dull, gods love him. My sister finds me far more entertaining.” It wasn’t a complete lie—Jason would often take you riding outdoors whilst Tyland took to reading in complete silence with you. Jason merely surmised that you enjoyed your time more with him rather than his twin. He plucked a goblet off the tray and held it out for Rhaenyra to taste. “The finest honeyed wine you’ll ever try. Made in Lannisport, of course.”

He didn’t catch the way Rhaenyra subtly rolled her eyes. “Of course,” she said. She took a small sip, humming mildly. It tasted like every other wine she’d had. A part of her wondered if the sister Jason had been talking about was around. Was she in the tent, amongst the women gossiping around the Queen Alicent? Immediately, her mood soured once more.

“The Kingswood is a fine hunting ground,” Jason started speaking again, eager to spark a flame between them. “But the best spot is to be found at Casterly Rock. Have you been?”

“Once,” Rhaenyra replied. “On a tour with my mother, when I was young. Honestly can’t recall much of that, either.”

With a grin, Jason kept boasting on, “The Rock is thrice the height of the Hightower in Oldtown, taller still than the Wall in the north.” He stepped closer to her. “It’s been said that if one were to stand in the tower on a perfect day, one could see clear across the Sunset Sea.”

“Must be quite something.”

“I don’t have a dragon pit, of course,” he said, voice lowering an octave, “but I do have the means and the resources to build one.”

Arching a brow, Rhaenyra leveled her eyes with his. Amethysts against emeralds. “Why would you need a dragon pit?”

“To house dragons, of course,” he bluntly replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “I’d do anything for my Queen. Or… my lady wife.”

There was a beat of silence. Realization and anger flooded her features all at once moments later.

“Thank you for the wine,” she said with a stiff, polite smile, handing him the chalice. With that, she stormed off, making her way back to the tent.

You watched her disappear, before fixing your eyes on Jason. You wondered what in seven hells Jason had said to make her so upset. Knowing him, he’d probably soiled the mood with his ridiculous self-importance.

Inside the tent, Rhaenyra made a bee-line to her father, interrupting the conversation he was holding with Lyonel Strong and, as her rotten luck would have it, Tyland Lannister.

“Is that what I am to you?” she hissed. “A prize to proffer about to the great houses?”

Pursing his lips, the King calmly told his daughter, “You’re of age, Rhaenyra. And Jason Lannister is an excellent match.”

“He’s arrogant and self-serious!”

From behind the two, Tyland could barely hold back his victorious laugh.

“Well, I thought you might have that in common,” Viserys said. Rhaenyra recoiled with a scowl at his words, as if she’d been struck. “Since you came of age, I’ve been slowly drowning in a lake parchment flung from every corner of the realm. Marriage proposals, all. And I have tried, oh so often, to discuss it with you! But you’ve refused me at every turn!” His voice raised with frustration. Several curious heads turned to see what the commotion was.

Baring her teeth, Rhaenyra insisted, “That is because I do not wish to get married!”

“Even I do not exist above tradition and duty, Rhaenyra!” the King yelled.

Rhaenyra hotly spewed out a protest, but was quickly cut off by Otto Hightower. The two were reeled back in from their argument, noticing everybody’s prying eyes on them.

“You must marry,” said Viserys to Rhaenyra. And that was that.

He turned to Otto, asking what it was he needed to say, effectively dismissing Rhaenyra. The Princess angrily pushed her way out of the tent, the heels of her boots scuffing deep into the dirt once she exited.

“What do you think has got her knickers all twisted?” Jason asked, taking a large bite into a sizzling skewer of meat. The two of you watched as Rhaenyra made her way to the tethered horses beside the tent.

You shook your head, exasperated. “You’re such a fool, Jason. You know nothing about women. Did you even try to ask if she wanted to marry you, instead of presuming it to be so?” Before he could respond, you were already walking off, leaving your indignant older brother in your wake. You stopped by the sweet desserts on one of the long tables, picking up a delicate slice of lemon cake.

A coil of nervousness sat within the pits of your stomach as you approached the Princess. You were near the same age as Rhaenyra, if not just a few moons younger. If it were anyone else, you would’ve easily made friends without hesitation. But this was the Princess—she was royalty.

And it didn’t quite help that she was so beautiful.

“I’m sorry about him,” you said, pulling Rhaenyra’s attention away from the horses, to you. She spun the golden rings about her fingers in quick motions. She studied your face first, before darting down to the simple dark dress you were wearing, detailed with yellow embroidery. It took her a moment to realize that you were Jason and Tyland’s sister—you shared many physical similarities with your brothers, though Rhaenyra had to admit that you were far prettier than they were. “Jason is an imbecile. He thinks his own cock should be gilded with gold.”

Your words made Rhaenyra smile, the corner of her eyes crinkling as she laughed. A strange sort of pride festered within your chest.

“I take it the Lannister twins are your brothers?”

“Unfortunately, Princess.”

She hummed in amusement. Her eyes flickered to the cake you were holding.

“Would you, uhm—” You cleared your throat, a nervous flush creeping up your neck, spilling over the skin of your cheeks. “Would you like the lemon slice? I saw you nick one off before my brother came to you. I… I usually find it a bit too sour for my taste. Would be a waste for me to toss it away.”

After a moment of consideration, she nodded, and you held it out for her to take. She murmured a sound of content at the tart sourness, before shooting you a small smile.

“Thank you.”

“Of course.” She fiddled with her rings as you absent-mindedly tugged at a loose thread on your dress. “I understand how you feel. I mean, obviously not as much pressure as you, I’m sure, but… my father wants to marry me off as soon as possible.”

Rhaenyra’s features softened ever so slightly. “It’s terrible. Fathers forcing us into marriages we don’t want. If I was born a man, none of this would be a problem.”

You turned your head to glance over at Jason, who had already moved on to flirting with other ladies of the court. “I’m glad I was not born a man. Or else, I’d be afeard of turning out like my idiot brothers.”

There it was again. Rhaenyra chortled at your words, her grin growing wider.

“I’m also glad you’re not like them. You’re far easier to talk to. Much less…”

“Of a Lannister?” It was your turn to laugh. You wrinkled your nose humorously. “Yes, there’s enough lions in our castle as it is. I’m content just being me.”

With a nod, Rhaenyra scanned her gaze along the crowd. “It was nice meeting you, Lady…”

“Y/N.”

Her violet irises glimmered. “It was nice meeting you, Lady Y/N. Thank you for the lemon. Enjoy the festivities.”

You nodded and gave her a slight curtsy, watching as she straddled one of the horses. A part of you wanted to ask where she was off to, but you wisely stayed silent, instead taking a bite of your cake. It was pleasantly sweet on your tongue, just slightly acidic with its aftertaste.

She gripped the horse’s reins and pressed her knees into its flank, urging it into a fast gallop. The Princess disappeared into the forest, Criston Cole shouting after her, hot on her heels.

During Rhaenyra’s tour for a husband—a tour that her father forced her into, one that she was not at all keen on—she made a stop at the Westerlands. Dozens upon dozens of eligible suitors lined the halls of Casterly Rock, awaiting their moment to present themselves to the Princess.

She was bored, to say the least. None of these men appealed to her.

Certainly not Jason and Tyland Lannister, who’d been relentless in their approach ever since she stepped foot in the castle. They showered her with gifts and gold and heaps upon heaps of riches.

It’d only been a few hours, and Rhaenyra found herself wondering where you were.

“Lord Tyland,” she called, and the tall, blonde man perked up.

“Yes, Princess?”

“Where is your dear sister, might I ask?”

For a moment, Tyland faltered. What would the Princess want with you, of all people?

“She’s usually in the library at this time of day,” he replied, miffed. “Would you like me to go fetch her?”

A touch of a smile reached Rhaenyra’s lips. “No, it’s quite alright. Would you be so kind as to escort me to her?”

Both Jason and Tyland exchanged indiscernible looks before Tyland bowed his head and beckoned her along, down the hall. “Right this way, Princess.”

The library was a grand hall, decked with hundreds of looming oaken shelves housing many rows of old, worn books. Tyland silently led her further inside, where there was a small alcove by a window, streaming golden light within the otherwise dim library. You were curled up by the glass, soaking up the light, reading fervently through a tome of alchemic history.

At the sound of footsteps, your eyes snapped away from the yellowing pages, widening upon seeing the Princess.

“You’re dismissed, Lord Tyland,” Rhaenyra told your brother.

Tyland opened his mouth to speak, but thought better of it. With a nod and a sharp look in your direction, he took his leave.

“Princess Rhaenyra. I’ve heard you’re on tour,” you said, slightly breathless. With fumbling hands, you shut the book closed and put it off to the side.

She clasped her hands behind her back, watching you with both caution and intrigue. “I am. It’s a dreadful affair.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. What brings you here, though?”

“I wanted to get away from your brothers.”

You knocked your head back and beamed as you laughed. Rhaenyra smiled then, wide and true. It was probably the first time she’d smiled since she set off on this wretched tour.

“You and me both, then.” With that, you stood up, smoothing out the creases in your soft crimson dress. The color certainly brought out warmth in your eyes, she thought. “Come. I can show you around the castle, if you’d like.”

“Please,” she said, breathily. She briefly thought about the long line of suitors waiting for her. None of them seemed worth the time.

But you seemed worth all the time in the world.

The two of you linked arms, and you led her out of the library. It was a beautiful castle, with much to explore—but Rhaenyra found it hard to concentrate when all she could think about was your soft skin pressing against hers.

After you’d shown her the lavish halls, the marbled pathways of the gardens, and the history room full of artifacts and prized Lannister heirlooms, you finally stopped by a gilded staircase.

“Up there are my chambers. My brothers sleep on the other end of the castle. I doubt you’d want to go there.”

The two of you giggled with each other, and she leaned even closer.

“Can we go up?”

“To my chambers?” you asked, hesitant.

For a moment, Rhaenyra feared she’d stepped over some unsaid boundary. She liked you a lot. Perhaps more than she should, for this was only the second time she’s met you.

“It’s alright if you don’t want to—”

“No!” you blurted, hands shooting out to hold hers. Your thumb brushed over her several rings. “Come. I was just surprised, was all. Nobody’s ever really wanted to come to my room before.”

The two of you made your way up. Not once did you relinquish your hold on her—and not once did Rhaenyra pull away. Tension crackled between you, but not the hostile kind. This was… this was the type that kindled fire within your chest. The kind that made your breaths grow shallow and your cheeks grow heated.

Your chambers were tidy and spacious, with a four-poster bed against one wall and a gold-detailed table across the room. Several windows were open, showcasing a beautiful view of the seas, glittering hues of clementines and tangerines.

“It’s beautiful,” she said, breathless, resting her hands upon the windowsill. “No wonder Lord Jason boasted about the view here.”

“Jason would boast about anything,” you snorted, coming to stand beside her. “But it is beautiful.”

Rhaenyra turned to look at you, finding you much closer than anticipated. She studied your features—the slope of your nose, the way your lips were parted ever so slightly, the beauty mark just below your right eye.

“Have you ever laid with anyone, Y/N?” she asked, voice quiet yet bold.

Surprised at her question, you reared your head back with raised brows. But she only stepped closer, her nose nearly brushing yours when she leaned forward. A bout of shyness overtook you, warmth spilling over your cheeks.

“No, Princess,” you whispered breathily, head tilting. She glanced down to your mouth when you nervously ran your tongue along your bottom lip.

A second of silence.

Rhaenyra took one more step, and you could feel her whole body press flush against yours. A part of you wondered if she could feel your heart thrumming loud within your ribcage. She watched you, waiting for any sign of uncomfort.

With that, she kissed you. Your noses slotted, your lips melded, and her hand cradled your face as you fisted the expensive fabrics of her dress. It was near magnetic, the way you two clicked into each other.

She tasted of lemons, you hazily registered. Of course she did.

When she finally pulled away, chest rising and falling rapidly, you found yourself chasing after her lips, eyes hooded with want.

She laughed at that, kissing your cheek once, then fluttered several over the bridge of your nose.

“What about the tour, Princess?” you murmured just before she captured your lips once more.

“Fuck the tour,” she replied, tugging you towards your tall bed.

Her words made you laugh, overcome with giddiness. “Fuck the tour,” you agreed.

A year had floated by since Rhaenyra’s tour. Much to your dismay, your father had you betrothed and wed to Jasper Wylde in a matter of a few moons. He was a handsome man, but you found very few things to speak to him about. It was clear that Jasper saw you as little else than something pretty to fuck—after all, you were the fourth wife he’d taken. Probably wouldn’t be his last, either.

There was only one positive that came out of your marriage to Lord Wylde.

You lived at the Red Keep because of your husband’s place on the small council as the Master of Law. And that allowed you and Rhaenyra to stay close, kindling the fires of your secret romance, along with your more… sexual escapades.

Life in the capital was utter bliss. Save for the few times Lord Wylde bedded you, of course. Those weren’t quite pleasant—most of the time you simply shut your eyes and let him do as he pleased with you. You much preferred your time with the Princess than with your own husband.

Times such as now, for example: your arm wound with hers as the two of you strolled in the Keep’s expansive gardens. You leisurely bent down to sniff the blooming flowers, the bushes bearing assortments of roses and peonies and marigolds. Rhaenyra was complaining about her father bringing up proposals again, all huff and puff and pout.

“Why are you smiling?” she queried once you shot her an amused glance. “This is serious!”

“Rhaenyra, my dearest,” you told her, grin widening as you clutched her hand all the tighter. “I care very much for your struggles, I do, but your pouting is quite funny.”

With a sigh, the Princess reached out to trace a finger along the petals of a flower. You watched her movements, your smile falling away. “I suppose you don’t have to worry about it anymore. You’ve got your husband already.”

“Yes,” you hummed, stepping closer so that your chest pressed flush up against her forearm. “Lord Jasper is… tolerable. But he never pleasures me the way you do.”

Her purple irises seemed to darken in a matter of seconds, darting down to your parted lips. With that, she seized hold of you and you hurried out of the gardens, back into the castle. In your haste, you both tripped over your skirts and the many staircases, your giggles echoing over the stone walls.

Once the two of you had successfully snuck into Rhaenyra’s chambers without any spectators noticing, her lips immediately slanted against yours. It was an embrace of fiery passion, as your hands spidered down to her waist and yanked her closer, reaching behind to blindly undo the threads of her dress.

“You’re getting better at this,” she murmured when you pulled her dress off in a matter of minutes, leaving her in just a thin shift. She began trailing hot kisses down your neck.

Gradually, the two of you made your way to her bed, leaving a haphazard trail of tossed-off clothing along the way.

It was a blissful evening, to say the least. But the days of wine and roses wouldn’t last long, the two of you soon came to realize.

Later that same moon, Rhaenyra was betrothed to her second cousin, Laenor Velaryon. And, to your turmoil, you found that you were pregnant for the first time with Jasper Wylde’s babe.

Ten years passed in a flurry, filled to the brim with many joyful ups and even more tumultuous downs.

You had your two children: your eldest, Petyr, was the spinning image of his father, with dark locks of hair and molten brown eyes. He was quiet and observant, never one to speak his mind. The youngest, Aella, was a bright and bubbly young girl, her curly hair a shade lighter than her older brother’s, but they shared the same eyes. In short, they didn’t look much like you.

That was one thing you shared in common with Rhaenyra.

After she was wed to Laenor, she had three sons—each of the boys harboring none of the traditional Valyrian physique of silver-white hair and purple irises. Instead, they bore an uncanny resemblance to Lord Harwin Strong, a man you knew Rhaenyra was seeing for quite some time. There were even instances where you joined in with them, but those were few and far in between.

Your children were close friends with hers, and you and Rhaenyra were happier than ever.

That was, until Laena Velaryon passed away. Which, much to Rhaenyra’s intrigued curiosity and your dismay, Daemon Targaryen was a single man once more. You were never quite fond of him, judging from his infamous reckless behavior and callous nature, only highlighted by Rhaenyra’s fond recollections of him during her childhood.

Eerily soon after Laena’s death, Laenor also mysteriously passed away. Something was afoot, and you only pieced things together once Rhaenyra approached you the next day. She did not look like she was in mourning for her late husband—in fact, she glowed more than anything.

“Come with me,” she whispered to you in the dead of night, gathering your hands in hers and staring straight at you. “I’m leaving for Dragonstone to be with Daemon. We’re to be married. I want you there.”

She said your name then, all sweet and silky, as if her tongue was coated with honey.

Your lips parted. Shock, incredulity, and anger flashed across your features all at once. “Rhaenyra, your husband died yesterday.”

“I know,” she said. “He’s…”

There was a pause.

The two of you gazed at each other. You could feel your heart starting to fracture, even though you weren’t even sure what exactly was happening just yet.

“Come with me,” she repeated. “We can be happy together in Dragonstone. It’s a beautiful castle.”

Your eyes flitted across the hall, to the closed doors you knew led to your children’s chambers.

“My husband wouldn’t stand for it,” you told her.

“I’m the Princess. The heir to the Iron Throne. He wouldn’t have a choice,” she stressed.

Blowing out an unconvinced scoff, you shook your head. “I have children now, Nyra. I can’t afford to be as irresponsible as you are.”

The woman in front of you drew her hands away, clearly stung. “Your children would have a good life on Dragonstone. Luke has even taken an affection to Aella, my love.”

A part of your heart crumbled when she called you hers. Nonetheless, you shook your head again.

“These are dangerous times… the realm is growing uneasy. I just don’t think it’d be safe there for me and my children. Besides… a lion has no place in a den of dragons.”

You chose your words carefully, but clearly, they weren’t careful enough.

“I leave by daybreak. The ship will have space for you,” she murmured lowly, but she took a decisive step back.

Salt pricked the corners of your eyes. Stinging, burning, hurting. You wanted to kiss her for offering, and yet you wanted to slap her for leaving you.

“Goodbye, Princess,” you said, bowing your head.

Anguish colored over her features. With not another word, she turned and began to walk away, her dark dress fluttering in her wake. She left you there, heartbroken, the both of you not knowing that that was the last time you’d ever speak to each other.

Six years crawled on by—slow and dragging. Life at the Keep without Rhaenyra had proven to be rather dreary. You missed her, awfully so. Things just weren’t the same without the Princess—your lover around.

The realm was beginning to split, it was obvious by now, especially with King Viserys growing increasingly ill and rarely making an appearance outside of his chambers. Greens against blacks, supporters of Queens against supporters of Kings, Targaryens against Targaryens.

Personally, you fully believed that Rhaenyra should take over her role as Queen once her father passed, but your husband seemed to think differently. You would hear him mutter aloud at times, his and Otto Hightower’s plans to put Aegon on the throne. Your brothers were none too quiet on the matter, either, both the twins boldly vocalizing their distaste to see a woman ruling the realm. A part of you wondered if they were all hatching a plan to supplant Rhaenyra during small council meetings instead of tending to actual matters of importance.

Not only that, Alicent Hightower grew more and more bitter over the years, practically ruling in her husband’s stead alongside her father. It seemed nearly the entire capital had turned their back on their future Queen they swore fealty to.

You oft worried for your children and their safety, especially with the looming threat of war on the horizon. It was a messy affair, that was made clear, and you were nearly certain that none of it would end cleanly.

The news that Rhaenyra was coming back to the Keep to reaffirm Lucerys’ claim to Driftmark didn’t delight you as you thought it would, for so many years. Instead, it made you worry even more—nothing good would come from her visit. She was a past love for you now, a woman you scarcely knew anymore. And yet your heart still ached when you thought of her. Of the life you didn’t choose by remaining in the capital.

Besides, Rhaenyra wasn’t here for pleasure. She wasn’t here to see you. She was here for her son—the very son that sliced out Aemond Targaryen’s eye. Alicent would not see kindly to Luke taking over Driftmark, especially with her suspicions of his true heritage.

Tensions ran high in the castle, that was safe to say.

And so, that was why you brought your children to the Godswood, a place of peace and much-needed quiet. Everybody was abuzz in the castle. Murmurs and whispers and an uncomfortable weight hanging about the air. You couldn’t stand any of it.

You leaned against the trunk and shut your eyes for a moment, listening to the whistling wind and the chirps of birds. Petyr quietly read a book beside you and Aella traipsed over the gnarled tree’s roots that poked up from the soft grass, giggling to herself. They were good children, you thought. They didn’t deserve to see war in their lifetime.

“Do you think Lucerys remembers me?” Aella asked, her arms spread wide open as she balanced herself on a large stone. “We were so close when we were young.”

You cracked an eye open and spared her a sweet smile. “I’m sure he does, darling.”

She’d always harbored affections for him, ever since they were young children. It ran through the family, you surmised.

Your mind flooded with memories of all the times you spent with Rhaenyra here. Stealing kisses beneath the shade when nobody was around, holding hands in the gardens, hurrying down the halls of the castle with linked arms. The two of you were only children then, but it was the happiest you’d ever been.

That was where Rhaenyra found you.

In truth, she was trying to find Princess Rhaenys to discuss the matter of betrothals, but she was glad she stumbled across you. You were just as beautiful as the day she left, Rhaenyra thought, her purple eyes curious as she watched you affectionately lean against your son. You spoke then, calling out to your daughter to be careful after she tripped over a fallen branch.

Gods, even the sound of your voice made Rhaenyra’s chest feel heavy. She ran her palms down the fabric of her black dress, over her prominent baby bump, and anxiously turned her rings about her fingers.

After Rhaenyra studied you a little longer, she noticed that there was a distinct sort of heartache with your expression—one that Rhaenyra was sure she mirrored. So much of her wanted to step out of the shadows. She wanted to wrap you in her arms, kiss the beauty mark beneath your right eye, and tell you how much she missed you.

But she didn’t do any of those things. The two of you hardly knew each other now. Merely two strangers that used to know each other in a different lifetime.

Rhaenyra could hardly swallow around the lump in her throat. Her feelings for you hadn’t mellowed with time, even though she’d convinced herself that they had during her time on Dragonstone. But seeing you right there made years of self-preservation come crashing down in an instant.

First loves were always the most painful.

And with an exhale that trembled much more than Rhaenyra would care to admit, she turned on her heel and took her leave, off to find Rhaenys.

In another life, she could’ve been with you, she was sure. A life of bliss and a life not ruled by the laws of men.

But this was not that life.

And Rhaenyra had come to accept that.

a/n ; thank you for reading !! i made picrews for how i pictured the lannister!reader to look like (you obviously can picture her however you want, though), along with her children, petyr & aella wylde :)

#rhaenyra targaryen x reader #rhaenyra targaryen fanfiction #rhaenyra targaryen fluff #rhaenyra targaryen angst #rhaenyra targaryen smut #rhaenyra targaryen imagines #rhaenyra targaryen x you #rhaenyra targaryen #house of the dragon fanfiction #hotd fanfiction #rhaenyra x reader #rhaenyra targaryen x oc #rhaenyra targaryen fanfic

282 notes · View notes

frost-queen · 1 year

Text

A mother's love (Daughter!Reader x Rhaenyra Targaryen)

Requested by: anon, Forever tag:@missmelodramatic, @merlin-dahlia, @alex--awesome--22 @elllie-does-the-posts, @floatlosers, @merlieve, @queen-of-books, @glimmering-darling-dolly@denkisclown, @wildieflower, @meyocoko, @bubblybrianna, @justanothercoco, @subjecta13-thefangirl, @m-rae23, @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr, @swampthing07, @melsunshine

Touching your forehead it was almost unbearable. The throbbing pain that pulsated around your skull. What ever infected you this morning, you had no idea. The only thing you knew was sicking it out was not an option. Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath. Wanting to block out so many inputs that kept giving your brain the thrill of it’s life.

Lifting your head up, you removed your fingers from against your forehead. Suddenly noticing your brother Jace staring your way. Brows furrowed with confusion written all over him. A simple gesture of his, speaking loudly. What are you on about? You shook your head with a soft smile to indicate to him it was alright.

That nothing was plaguing you. Jace mouthed if you were sure, making you nod. A quirk of his eyebrow and a subtle step back showed you he wasn’t going to bother you with it any longer. You were so caught up with communicating with your brother, you hardly noticed anyone else had taken in interest in you and your doings.

Your grandfather, the king, clearing his throat. It made you turn your head to him. Seeing how impatient he got from you and your brother disturbing the gathering. Bowing your head, you asked for forgiveness, hands folded neatly in front of you. He moved his fingers up from the iron throne he sat in with a simple nod.

Pressing your lips together, you remained silent not wanting to disturb the gathering. Across the room stood the greens. Aemond quirking his eyebrow at you. Tilting his head slightly as if observing you. Using your brows, bringing them up in a swift motion, you asked in code what his problem was.

Aemond looked briefly away, hearing the words of the king. When he looked back upon you, he brought his brows together looking pitiful. The pain in your head kept bugging you. Then there was the chill all over your body. Hot and cold at the same times. Shivering whilst drops of sweat forming underneath your hair.

King Viserys got up, as you all dropped down to bow or curtsy. All watching him leave. When he left, your family slowly followed. Aemond coming by your side. Before he could say something, Aegon commented snarky. – “Looking rather pale cousin. Trying on a new look?” – he laughed loud.

Aemond pushed his brother’s head away. Aegon tensed his jaw ready to leave a rude comment when both your brothers came joining you. – “Got something to say Aegon?” – Jace said, placing his arm on your shoulder as you had all come to a stop. Luke standing on the other side, arms crossed, daring Aegon to even speak another word.

Aegon puffed loud, flipping his hand at Luke. Luke scoffed loud at how silly he was. – “Are you alright Y/n?” – Aemond asked wanting to touch your forehead. You slapped his hand away before he could touch it. – “I’m fine!” – you lied. – “Aemond is right, are you alright Y/n? You seem a little sick…” – Luke joined in, pointing it out.

You slapped his hand away as well. – “I am fine!” – you shouted out again to mark your point. Biting through the sting of pain through your body, you strutted away. – “Y/n wait!” – Jace coming to run after you. – “I’m fine Jace.” – you commented over your shoulder. He took a hold of your elbow. – “You don’t look fine. You should lay down. I’ll tell mother.”

“No!” – you pulled away rather sudden. – “I’ll handle myself! Not a word to mother!” – you insisted with a glare. Jace swallowed, lowering his head as you walked away. You entered the gathering room. Your uncle Daemon quirking his eyebrow up at your late arrival. You picked up the wine, going to the table in the middle. Daemon moved a bit aside as you leaned over to pour wine in his cup. – “You were late.” – he whispered to you. – “Apologies uncle.” – you whispered back, noticing your mother look your way from across the table.

He took one observing eye upon you. Taking you by the wrist the moment you wanted to pull away, startling you. – “Are you alright Y/n?” – he asked lowly. You nodded ignoring your own sick body. – “I am fine Uncle.” – you spoke softly, moving back. You went to pour the next lord’s cup and so on. Moving to the background, you kept the wine container in your hand. Mind blanking out. Vision becoming unclear as your heartbeat went up.

Sweat staining your body in all sorts of places. No matter how strong you tried to be, it was getting too much. Having ignored your own body by continuing with your daily duties. The voice of your mother speaking faded out as your knees went weak. The wine splashed onto the stone floor, the ceramic breaking. Everyone jumped up, startled by the sound. – “Y/n!” – Rhaenyra called out, picking up her dress to run over to you.

Her daughter who had fainted. Daemon was by your side soon enough. – “She’s burning up.” – Rhaenyra stated having touched your forehead. – “Let me.” – Daemon spoke wanting to pick you up. Rhaenyra shook her head, putting a stop to him. – “No!” – she moved her arms around you, picking you up. – “I’ll take care of my daughter.” – it took her more strength to carry you, as you weren’t a little girl anymore. Daemon wanted to escort her, but Rhaenyra wouldn’t want it.

She carried you back to your quarters, placing you on the bed. Sitting with you on the bed, she took a deep breath. – “Why didn’t you tell me you were ill daughter of mine.” – she whispered, wrenching a cloth in the basin of water. Dapping it gently onto your forehead to cool you down.

“Your health is more important than your duties.” – she leaned forwards to give you a kiss on your head. – “iksan vaoreznuni muña.” I’m sorry mother. Rhaenyra smiled letting her hand go down your cheek. – “daor jorrāelagon naejot sagon vaoreznuni ñuha jorrāelagon” No need to be sorry my love.

She answered in High Valeryian. Wetting your hands with the cloth, she smiled. – “I am here to take care of you Y/n.” – Rhaenyra and you hugged briefly. She staid by your side, taking care of you. Your brothers weren’t allowed in as a part of you was glad. Otherwise they would only scold at you for lying about being unwell.

-----------------------------------------

Read more of my fics on my Masterlists!

563 notes · View notes

darlingofvalyria · 6 months

Text

As the Princess of the Realm's most favoured maid, there are certain liberties you are privy to demand. Jealousy of the people surrounding your lady is not one of them. Amused, Rhaenyra wishes to show her jealous little darling that there is nothing to worry about.

╰┈➤ PROMPTS ❝ MIND MANIPULATION, BLOOD PLAY ❞

[ +18 MDNI ] [ 2,763 ] [ masterlist ] | Vampire!Rhaenyra Targaryen x Maid!Reader

contains— smut, fluff - monsterfucking, hurt/comfort, jealousy, allusions to murders and kidnapping (not reader), mind manipulation, mentions of blood - this is a darkish fic - nsfw: monsterfucking, v and v sex, blood play(?), thigh riding, dubcon - no betas.

a/n— countess bathory rhae version. + Quick note: I don't actually remember/know if a crown princess is higher in stature to a queen consort. I know a queen at least is higher than a crown princess... but in this fic, i'm making it so that a king's direct/crowned heir is higher in status to that of a queen consort, as in what i want you to understand here that a king's chosen heir has bigger power than someone who is only married to royalty and title. this is of course different than the show but eh. + comment, reblog & like at will, mi luvs, mwa!

You understand why they salivate after her like starved dogs for a hunt. Prowling, on the verge of humping the very ground she walks on.

Your princess is every consonant and vowel of her royal visage and title, adorned in jewels and gold, Valyrian steel interlaced across her throat and waist. Fat rubies in her ears, weighted layers of gold gleam across her collarbone with a Valyrian steel necklace that strung an almost black amethyst drop nestled in her bosom.

Rings of all kind adorned her fingers as she held a goblet, amused by whatever topic the Riverland Lord was saying with gusto, fat stomach straining against a leather belt.

In any feast, she is the star, unable to be shadowed by her enemies now that her confidence had bloomed. She presided every conversation, lords and ladies following her red mouth as much as her words, dominating circles of power with ease that surpassed her gender.

The Heir to the Iron Throne. The Realm's Delight.

You had never been prouder to say you serve such a woman, body and soul.

And at the same time, you cannot help the feeling of jealousy to flash like a quick strike of a dagger. It is not your mistress' fault that people stave off the attention she gives them. It isn't their fault either as you understand the sentiment. Once you've played in her hand, you are evermore enraptured by her.

But you're different. In a way.

As soon as the lord— a Lord Erodd Mudd, a vassal of House Tully who had proudly proclaimed to be an eager follower of the future Black Queen, henceforth his vassals flooding gifts and compliments to your princess — had gotten too close for comfort and too red from the overflowing Arbor Red, that as soon as you see the quick flash of Princess Rhaenyra's comfort threatened, you spring into action.

You move about dancing bodies and beautifully crafted ladies to get to her, your eye meeting her sword shield, the Ser Strong, with a nod. You know your strengths and weaknesses; wrangling a drunken lord physically is not one of them. Neither is a violent drunk, and there had been enough unsavoury gossip of the Lord Mudd for you to be on edge the minute he approached the princess.

You take a low bow in front of them at your sudden interruption, your voice calm but firm. "My princess, the Prince Joffrey is ready to be put to bed."

Rhaenyra smiles, gladdened of your quick feet and quicker thinking. "Thank you—"

"Audacious!" Lord Mudd squeaks, the spittle and stench of alcohol almost makes you grimace. Almost. "The princess is talking to a lord, she does not want—"

"— the princess does not permit others to speak on her behalf, much less about what she wants or thinks," you can't help but snap. "Please refrain yourself from doing so, my lord."

He purples in offence, fist shaking that you sidle up to move in front of the princess. "Oh why, how dare—"

You let out a breathless exhale at the appearance of Breakbones and his meaty hand on the lord's shoulder. "My lord. I'm afraid you've enough to drink. The night grows long." As the lord opens his mouth to retort, Harwin's smile sharpens is enough of a warning that he swallows and jerkily nods.

He bows to Rhaenyra. "G-good night, your grace."

Rhaenyra smiles amusedly, as if she is letting you in on a joke. "And to you, my lord. I will have a maestre prepare a concoction my... little brother uses in a time of head aches. He so prefers the sweet Red such as you."

As he bows again gratefully, Lord Mudd manages to shoot you a final glare before being escorted by Ser Harwin. For a brief moment as the revelry continues on, most guests now well into their cups and dreams to kiss your princess' arse, she laughs quietly in the privacy of your closure.

You snort softly. "I am glad the night has amused you thus far, my princess."

She giggles again. "How can I not? You had been glaring at the poor fool for the better time of the night. He had thought that he had offended me in some way, and was trying to appease with all sorts of ridiculous promises."

"Hm. What can a small vassal house by the name that means 'wet dirt' could possibly offer the princess of the realm?" You can't help but be haughty. Though you do recognise you are being a bit unfair to the lord, for he isn't just the only one who had pried the attention of the princess all night.

"A pretty new maid," Rhaenyra muses, making your blood freeze. "He said he's got a pretty collection of wenches, all well trained by his mother, whom I do know has a heavy teeth with her servants. Lord Tully has endorsed them so. Lady Tully as well. Oh, and that he has daughters fit to be ladies in waiting, should I want for more... high browed ladies."

You inhale deeply. "It is indeed... a good idea to expand your ladies. You are the Heir, higher in stature to the Queen Consort who has an army of ladies both in Great Houses and Vassals." You nod jerkily. "It is a smart idea, my princess."

Rhaenyra smirks, enjoying far too much the inner turmoil of your little head. You don't notice it, as you had perfected serving her for such a time and she is sure onlookers would see only a lady conversing with her maid, but when you are upset and trying not to show it, you blink three times as if wrangling your thoughts in order. There is only a small dip in your serene mouth that always makes her want to press it. Move it around. Then maybe bite you.

But if she touched you now, she would not stop. She knows her hunger very well, and in preparation for the three-day celebrations as well as handling her duties between council meetings and audiences with the common folk— she had not drank in a while.

If she touches you now, there would be no care for titles or eyes.

When she shudders faintly at the image, your keen eye sees it immediately. You see the faint pallor, the inch of peakiness. She had been consuming more and more raw meat, but animals barely curb the thirst.

"Shall I prepare your feast, my princess?"

She blinks at you, surprised. "My feast? Surely this is enough."

You're unable to stop your sigh as you look away. "My princess, surely, you don't think such a feat should go unrewarded? Lords of Great Houses are swayed to your cause. Their vassals are following suit. Even if a Great Council is demanded once more in your reign, the tide will turn for your favour."

"You do not know that." Rhaenyra laughs lightly as you are already shaking your head. "We should not tempt fate."

"You had been doing your duty unto the realm as its heir and its delight. We are tempering any whisper of revolt. Your win is marked in stone," you insist. "A reward is only just."

You scoot closer, pinching your voice low. Rhaenyra holds her breath with a sharp intake of air, a coil, nothing but a whisper, of your scent finds her nostrils and her hunger tightens in her stomach that her fangs sharpen. She bites her bottom lip hard.

"My apologies," you whisper. "But I know your hearing turns mortal when you have not eaten in a while. You must eat. The bustle for the celebration has been a good excuse to hire more alongside what we needed."

Her eyes flash. "... Maidens?"

"At least four of them, my princess."

She gasps, inhaling quickly and your scent comes first, the sweet imprint of your blood hums her own, but her eyes widen at the thick stench of maidens right in her room. Your gift. For your beloved. You smile, despite the niggling, pinch of jealousy that has a thick hold on your neck and Rhaenyra can smell it.

"The revelries will continue on," you say with finality, bowing. "The Prince Jacaerys is doing well with the Northern delegates thus far, and the Young Prince Lucerys has charmed the pirate lords from the Free Cities, as well as the Dornish Prince and his... mistresses. We are well here. I will keep an eye on your heirs. Enjoy yourself, my princess."

The revelries go well into the Hour of Owl before you give nod to the last of the guards and servants tasked with ensuring the more raucous guests find their way to their beds, moving along the quiet flutter of candlelight and sharp, slanting shadows like a wraith. Or a ghost. No one pays you any mind, and they know better.

You sweep straight into the princess' apartments, locking the doors behind you. The iron stench of blood is already thick here, seeping through the corners and clinging to the tapestries. You're used to it, even if the first times had been shaky in your memories. But your actions are a routine, moving to the tub filled thick with blood, almost to the brim, moving a finger through it, beads of blood clinging to you when you raise your hand, falling in slops back to the tub.

You hum along your duties, the actions of a routine is familiar... if not surgically placed into your mind, though the uncomfortable reminder strikes your head in a low, dull thud. Worrisome thought is a blunt knife to the steel guard your princess has wrought in your head.

For your protection, my sweet, Rhaenyra had purred, feeling her nails scratch in the fragments of your malleable brain.

Candles are flickering by the time your princess strides into her room, the heavy door deadbolting with a heavy thud. The stench of blood and her scent— grapefruit and vanille, a touch of something more ancient, cloying and heavy — thickens as you bow, your fingers in unlacing and getting her off the bloodied dress. It’s relatively clean, and she throws you a smirk for it. She knows you hate having to share just as much as she, and knows even better you would never make much fuss, but your chest warms at her thoughtfulness regardless.

She sinks with ease, a low, satiated hum escapes her lips.

“I will assume this is another present?” she teases. “No maidens?”

“Not after the Lannisport incident, no.” You regard her weightily but she only laughs. Sunk in blood, her paleness almost makes her glow. A goddess if nothing else. But her cheeks are also fuller, vibrancy clinging to her gold spun hair and gaze. “These were just as much eager to serve the crown as the young women were eager to serve their princess.”

Rhaenyra’s laugh is spoilt as much as it is indulgent. “And I am assuming you never told them the length or width of their servitude?”

She really does feel much better if she is in such a teasing mood.

“No,” theres a petulant, almost offended notch in your tone that you dont hide as well, if youre ever truly trying to hide it. The day wanes and the moon waxes, and you have been obedient all day.

Rhaenyra bites her lip. You have been good. And deserving. She leans forward, pressing herself back. “Come.”

You still, holding onto her oils. “I still have to wash your hair, princess, it has been an arduous day."

“It has, and you have done so well in pleasing me that I require you here, with me.” Her voice pitches, irises molting to a startling black. Your spine straightens and your gaze glosses. She hums, delighted to see that the full force of her prowess is back. Though it isnt truly much. The strings from your mind and body is one that she has owned long before. “Take off your dress, sweet girl, thats it, faster— and here, right on top of me.”

You are awake and dreaming, its a state you know quite well, but you move where she wants you, your strings hers for the taking, and you are up to your navel in blood before your mind catches up with thought that you are bare, bare before your princess as she looks up, her hands, soft and cold and wet with blood, moulding against the divots of your soft flesh.

She pulls you down with ease, so careful with your skin. Her hunger though fulfilled, the remnants of the creature within her still breathes. Your heartbeat is a siren song and the urge to devour you, to sink her teeth right in that throbbing, fluttering pulse— four maidens down her belly and her hunger for you is still so strong.

Your mind is your own when you have settled righto n her thighs, bracketing her between your own. A shuddering gasp leaves your mouth as she draws her hands from thighs to your centre to your breast to your jaw, pulling you to meet her mouth in a soft exploration between tongue and teeth.

It is kissing for beasts, for creatures trying to find pleasure unknown to them but hungering for it; her tongue tangling with yours, licking at the roof your mouth, her teeth, sharpened, tugging and grating against your soft lips. It is gluttonous as it is guttural, and you feel debased. But you like it, you like the clouding of your mind from pleasure, chasing the hums from her throat and smiling from her little laughs.

It is no wonder that your body craves, hips moving in an insistent, errant sway against her thigh that she laughs once more, finish suckling a bruise on your arched neck.

"Sīr needy hae iā līve, So needy like a whore," she purrs against your skin. "Are you my," she grips your buttocks and pulls you to her, though you stumble, you are still relatively on your knees and your pearl that is craving for attention hits against her stomach and you gasp, "little whore?"

"Yes," you murmur, arms wounding against her neck as she adjusts you more comfortably on her lap, watching intensely at your pleasure as she sits you down and starts moving your hips in a rhythm. "Y-yes I am."

She snakes a hand between you to pinch at your clit. You jolt.

"Manners."

"Yes, my queen!" You sob, head falling on her shoulder as your hips go faster, the blood is spilling, the smell of iron is so strong it fills your lungs, but your first relief is near and Rhaenyra hates denying you pleasure.

Even her punishments have always been to over feed you your own pleasure, indulge in the staccato wails broken by whines as your last peak has barely finished before she is making you reach it again.

"There she is, my sweet girl."

She helps your thighs, moving you faster and faster as she drinks in your skewered brows and hanging mouth, taking a breast into her mouth and laving it with her tongue, groaning at the blood and suckling deep. You will be blooming with bruises come morn and she cannot wait to see the spring she has created on your skin. You are so delicate, so... human. Your fragility is a beauty she enjoys.

Like right now, when your pleasure catches up to you fast and she has made it a mission not to touch your cunt at all, maintaining your movement even as you whine deep in your chest, your forehead falling to her shoulder as you twitch and shudder. When you garble her name, falling your please, p-please, 'smuch, she stops, running her hands instead to your sides, cupping your breasts faintly before she's nudging against your nose until you give in with what she is silently asking: soft, tugging kisses.

"Deep breaths, sweet one," she whispers against your mouth when she pulls away, "I will take more of your pleasure. All the sweet maidens in these lands are nothing to the taste of you." For emphasis, her other hand is already between your thighs, brushing insistently against your pearl.

Teasing, always teasing. You shudder.

"Your pleasure is much your reward as it is mine. Now, once more. On my fingers." She bares her fangs, another light laugh that tugs at your core because it is full of promises. "Then against my cunt."

Because Rhaenyra gives as much as she takes.

And she wants everything you... 'willingly' give.

#rhaenyra targaryen x reader #rhaenyra x reader #rhaenyra smut #rhaenyra targaryen fanfiction #kinktober 2023 #rhaenyra targaryen #rhaenyra x you #rhaenyra fanfic #hotd smut #hotd x you #︶꒦꒷♡ elle tries kinks ♡꒷꒦︶#elle writes !! ꒱ ↷˗ˏˋ🍒

234 notes · View notes

bi-disaster-yn · 2 years

Text

Helpless

Pairing: Rhaenyra Targaryen x fem!Reader

Summary: Rhaenyra struggles with the loss of her mother and only Reader steps up to help her.

A/N: I am already down SO BAD for Rhaenyra and will be bending the knee for her.

You had never fought on the battlefield before but you were sure at this moment you would win a war to get back to Rhaenyra.

When the news had reached you about the untimely passing of her mother, you knew you had to abandon your travels and head back to King’s Landing to be there for her. It seemed like the urgency of your expedition had dissipated and this had become the only thing in the world that mattered.

You were partially comforted by the fact that she would have Alicent to look after her. Although, this wouldn’t be the same as you tending to her. Whilst Alicent was Rhaenyra’s dearest friend, you were her lover and closest confidant.

Tight knotting ravaged your stomach and chest as you got closer and closer to King’s Landing. Fear set in as you pondered how your poor Rhaenyra was faring without you. The carriage just simply wasn’t going fast enough. You had demanded returning by horseback, knowing you’d be able to outride the entire party and get there in half the time. However, your demands were harshly refused. Instead, you were to sit helplessly in a carriage, playing with your hands and torturing yourself with the endless possibilities of your love’s welfare.

Once safely in King’s Landing, you ignored a squire’s hand to help you out of the carriage and essentially launched yourself out of it.

“My Lady, we hadn’t expected you back for quite some time.” The squire commented but you brushed him off.

“The Princess needs me.” You responded, storming off to the kitchen to fetch a selection of some of Rhaenyra’s favourite cakes. Then, you completed your mission to her chambers.

You were right; Rhaenyra did need you. When you found her, she was curled up on her bed, lying on her stomach on a large pillow that was almost the size of a person. It was drenched with her tears but she clung onto it, sobbing relentlessly.

Never had you seen your dear Rhaenyra so helpless. Her full body was racked with painful and shuddering sobs. She seemed fragile and thin. Clearly, she had eaten very little since the event and the consequences had quickly manifested in her petite frame. The black dress that once fitted her perfectly now seemed to drown her.

She lay facing out of the window and didn’t register your entrance. It wasn’t until you set the cakes to the side and gently got on to the bed behind her that she realised there was someone else in the room. Startled, she jumped at the contact when you placed a loving hand on her shoulder until she recognised your kind face and she instantly felt safe.

Desperately, she grabbed at the collar of your dress, pulling you down on top of her and let out deep and heart-wrenching howls. It was the safety you provided that allowed her to let go so freely and truly vent her pained emotions. You responded to her by wrapping your arms round her tightly and burying your head in her neck, kissing her soft skin gently to reassure her.

“My sweet one, I am so sorry.” You mumbled against her skin. “I am here now. I am sorry I wasn’t before.”

“You came back for me.” She shakily spoke in between her ragged breathing.

“I will always come back for you, Princess.” You said, resting your elbow on the pillow and looking down at her. The poor thing had a red and raw complexion in stark contrast to her usually sun kissed one. You ran your fingers through her hair, casually twirling the strands between them in an attempt to soothe her.

Rhaenyra reached up to kiss you gently, placing both of her hands on your cheeks and holding you in place. Your eyes instantly closed and you reciprocated the kiss delicately. You brushed your thumb along her jaw in feather-like touches. Selfishly, you rejoiced at the opportunity of being able to kiss her again but held yourself back in respect for her mourning.

Once you’d pulled back, you rested your forehead against hers, still caressing her jawline. She looked up at you with a gorgeous combination of ardour and melancholy.

“You can tell Alicent to take some rest, I am here to tend to you now.” You whispered to her; your face close enough to hers that your lips brushed against her skin as you spoke.

Rhaenyra swallowed thickly at that and settled back against the pillow, avoiding your gaze. Her response confused you profusely and you brushed some hair away from her forehead in an attempt to get her to look at you.

“Alicent has not been here in days. I hear she tends to my father.” Rhaenyra admitted, almost guiltily and still tried to avoid eye contact with you. Nothing could stop the frown that your features contorted to make. To say the least, you were furious. In your Rhaenyra’s time of need, the person who you were sure would tend to her had abandoned her in favour of her father. The King no doubt would have had the support of the small council, countless whores and anyone else who enjoyed breathing. In your absence, Rhaenyra only had Alicent but had been left to fend for herself.

“What about Daemon?” You inquired. “Surely he has paid you a visit.”

Daemon wasn’t exactly your preferred substitute but apart from you or Alicent, you knew that he would be the only one who could provide your beloved with some comfort.

“No, I don’t know where he is.” She replied sheepishly. This angered you too, but not nearly as much as Alicent. If anything, Daemon’s absence was to be preferred. You had always been cynical of his intentions with Rhaenyra and she did not need his influence in this particularly vulnerable time. Still, she should never have been left alone.

Carefully, you sat back against the grand throw pillows on the bed and pulled Rhaenyra with you so that her head rested on your chest.

“Well, I am here now and I’m not going anywhere.” You reassured her, pressing kisses to the crown of her head.

“I am glad you’re back; I couldn’t possibly pretend that big pillow was you for much longer.” She replied, with a slight smirk in her tone. It was both heart-warming and gut-wrenching that she had craved your comfort so much she had resorted to imagining your presence.

“Well, hopefully I have more intelligent things to say than the pillow.” You offered, stroking her hair and allowing her to wrap her arms round your waist to hold you in an iron grip. She never truly appreciated the vastness of her own physical strength.

“Hmm, I am not so sure.” Rhaenyra joked, looking up at you with a faint smile. Despite her mourning and the pain, she would always be able to smile once in your arms. For that, you’d allow her to make her little jests so that she might find her playful demeanour again.

“Well, I’ll keep quiet then. I am sure you and the pillow have much to discuss.” You smirked.

“I think we have discussed all we can.” She sighed contentedly, settling into your arms. “Tell me about your travels. Give me a distraction from how heinous this feels.”

“I will, but first,” you began, reaching over to retrieve the cakes from the side. “Please eat some of these. I know you won’t have eaten much but I’m certain you can be tempted with cake.”

Rhaenyra’s stiff and exposed expression confirmed you were right about her not having eaten. She made a careful selection on a lavender cake and nibbled on it, looking up at you adoringly.

“You know how to make everything better.” She told you, settling her head in the crook of your neck. You kissed her forehead gently and rubbed her back soothingly.

“I’ll always try to make things better for you, my Princess.” You said and the did as your princess had commanded of you, regaling stories of your recent travels in an animated way which you knew she would like. Rhaenyra enjoyed your commentary, sometimes finding herself giggling and immediately began to feel more at ease. Her one true love had endeavoured to come back for her when she needed them most.

Existence without her mother was excruciating and the days that followed Queen Aemma’s passing had been a war that Rhaenyra was losing. She had tried desperately to keep her head above water, flailing helplessly with no assistance. With your return, it was like you had reached your hand out to stop her from drowning. Rhaenyra settled, feeling safe in your arms and that things had just gotten a little less terrible.

#rhaenyra targaryen #Rhaenyra Targaryen x reader #Rhaenyra Targaryen x fem!reader #Rhaenyra Targaryen x female reader #Rhaenyra Targaryen fanfiction #Rhaenyra Targaryen one shot #Rhaenyra Targaryen imagine #Rhaenyra Targaryen drabble #a song of ice and fire fanfiction #Rhaenyra Targaryen x yn #Rhaenyra targa x you #reader insert #game of thrones fanfic #house of the dragon #house of the dragon fanfic #daemon targaryen #milly alcock #milly Alcock x reader #lgbt reader

2K notes · View notes

em-writes-stuff-sometimes · 1 year

Text

butterfly (fade away) │ Daemon Targaryen x Rhaenyra Targaryen x Reader

See my Masterlist for more works!

Please note: this is a ONE-SHOT unrelated to my terms of endearment series.

Synopsis: After their marriage, your older sister Rhaenyra and Uncle Daemon take wardship of you on Dragonstone. You enjoy your time with them - until one night, when everything changes. Nothing will ever be the same again.

Triggers: r*pe/non-con, age gap, purity culture, incest, breeding kink, drugged sex.

You enjoy living with Rhaenyra and Daemon.

At first, you had been very uncertain about the change in your routine. Still grieving the loss of your beloved good-brother Laenor, you – like all others in the Realm – had been utterly shocked by the announcement that your sister had wed your estranged uncle within mere days of his wife’s funeral, of her husband’s horrific death. What had ensued in the immediate aftermath, you know not; only that, near two sennights after the messenger had delivered the news, you had been called to your father’s rooms and informed that you were to be given as a ward to Rhaenyra. You travelled to Dragonstone post-haste.

Rhaenyra and Daemon immediately took a great interest in you, something that both pleased and unnerved you greatly. Your sister had had little time to spare you in the previous ten years, and you could scarcely claim to know your uncle beyond vague recollections of childhood and the stories told across the capital of his numerous exploits. To have both pay such close attention to you now was thrilling and confusing. From lessons in High Valyrian to walks along the beach; from countless requests to break their fast with you to evenings spent in laughter and peaceful drowsing; your time is filled up completely by them.

What might have been stifling to others – the stream of sweet pet names and the knowledge of their eyes fixated upon you and the feel of their hands glancing across your form – brings you a sense of peace, of security. Of love. You have always craved your family’s love; you shall not turn it away now.

It is one such a night that you find yourself in Rhaenyra’s rooms, a cup of wine held loosely in your fingers as you sit curled up on the chaise near the hearth.

“… and, if you would believe it, husband,” your sister is saying archly, “your daughter turned to me and claimed that she could do as she likes, for her father would hardly seek to curb her.”

Daemon chuckles. “Attagirl,” he remarks teasingly, eyes flashing at his wife and smirking as she scoffs in playful reproach. He takes a healthy swig from his own cup. “I’ve taught her well.”

“Baela can be your problem, then, seeing as how this particular trait is one you’ve cultivated so keenly, uncle.”

The room is warm. You are clad in your shift and robe, but even with so few layers the temperature is stifling; you can feel the flush simmering beneath your flesh, hot and clammy, but you cannot bring yourself to move to cooler climes. Truthfully, you do not even know if you are capable of moving. Your limbs feel loose, gelatinous, as though the bones have dissolved and you are naught but skin and muscle suspended in the air.

“Darling? Are you well?” You peer hazily at Rhaenyra, who has seated herself beside you and placed her hand to your forehead. You make an affirmative noise – you are fine, just relaxed. It comes out garbled and incomprehensible, and you frown slightly. She glances to your uncle. “Daemon.”

Another set of fingers introduce themselves to the cup in your grasp, drawing it from you. Daemon’s eyes are dark as he presses the rim of it to your lips, coaxing you wordlessly to finish the contents within. You splutter as the rich, bitter liquid swirls in your mouth, taking small swallows to force it down.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, lips quirking. “Do you feel nice, sweetling?”

It is so warm, but the feeling is lovely. Your eyes flutter shut, the heat lulling you towards a gentle doze.

“Stay awake, sister,” Rhaenyra’s voice floats in the space between you. A cool palm presses itself to your cheek, and you look through blurred vision to see her face a scant few inches from yours. Her breath brushes along your skin as she speaks. “We want to play a game with you. Do you want to play, darling?”

You want to sleep, but she looks so serious. Caught up in the desire to please, you nod, though it is less a coordinated movement and more of a tipping forward. She chuckles breathily as you pitch into her shoulder, tucking your head to the side so that you are staring directly at your uncle. He is impossibly tense, gaze wild and breathing loud, as though he is restraining himself from something. You blink slowly at him.

“Come here,” Rhaenyra whispers, tipping your chin up.

You squeak as her mouth touches against yours in a manner that feels far less chaste than you remember familial kisses being. It is as though you are a marionette and she holds the strings, for you can do nothing else but let her lips glide slickly against yours, her tongue prodding between your teeth and licking into you. You make a weak sound, huffing against her at the twist of strangeness that shivers through you.

“Look at you both,” your uncle murmurs lowly, and you quiver at the sensation of his hand against your neck, brushing your hair from your shoulder and caressing paths along the exposed skin. “My pretty little nieces.”

Something hot and wet maps along the flesh of your throat, and the tickle of hair that is not your own brushes along your cheek. It feels good. You cannot make sense of it, but it feels good. Your belly swoops as you are lifted bodily from the chair, though you can only hang limply from whatever it is that is holding you aloft. The room feels cooler as you move further from the hearth.

You loll listlessly while hands turn you upright and fumble with your clothing, made difficult by the necessity of propping you up – without secure support, you will surely crumple bodily to the floor, a bird with clipped wings.

“Fuck,” Rhaenyra curses, and the vulgarity prompts a choked-off noise from you. She stares stunned and avaricious at you, as though you are the last lemoncake on a near-empty platter. “You’re perfect, aren’t you?”

Confused, you track the path of her stare down to your own form.

“Oh,” you peep. You are naked. When did that happen?

That wet feeling slides along your shoulder again, a rumble vibrating through your skin.

“These tits,” your uncle husks, and those iron bands of warmth at your hips glide up, up, up to cup the swell of your bare breasts, plucking at your nipples and making you cry out. Your head tilts back, overwhelmed. “They’ll look even better filled up.”

“Wha–” you start to say, but you are cut off by the feel of much rougher lips capturing your own, a kiss that is more aggressive and domineering than your sister’s had been. You whine into his mouth, arching subconsciously into the sensation of his fingers playing maddeningly with your nipples, rolling hard peaks between the digits and making you uncomfortable between your legs. “Ah!”

“Daemon,” Rhaenyra says urgently, and the world tips around you once more.

When your vision clears, you are on your back and staring up at the canopy of your sister’s bed. You are laying on something soft; you hum, rubbing your fingers along the surface below you, indulging in the pleasantness of it. There are slick sounds coming from a little further away. You can make out the vague forms of your sister and uncle – they might be grappling with each other, you suppose, though you cannot find it within yourself to care. You keep stroking the bed beneath you.

“Legs up,” a discordant voice sounds – a woman – and hands and arms reposition your body without your control. You let them prop your thighs over something, sighing at the feeling of fingers petting along your flesh. A burst of coolness puffs at those forbidden parts of you between your legs, and you wriggle nervously. “How wet this little cunny is.”

You whimper as you watch Rhaenyra’s head disappear between your thighs, and you think it must be her tongue that swipes through the mess that leaks from that part of you that belongs to your future husband. You know not why it is being so sinful now, and you try to tell her that she ought not be touching this spot upon your body. It is for your marriage bed.

She laughs, though it is punctuated by a groan.

“Your sister wants a little playmate for Aegon, poppet,” Daemon interrupts, hunched over your sister’s back and rocking against the side of the bed. His hand fists itself in her hair, shoving her back down into you, and you bleat as her tongue renews its efforts at parting your folds, at swirling through the source of your slick, at prodding something shocky and sensitive at the cusp of your mound. He grins. “But her milk won’t dry up, so she can’t make another babe yet. Don’t you want to be good and help her?”

“I–” You are overwhelmed, dizzy, hot and cold and sick all at the same time. You think you might need to make water, for something is happening below that you do not understand. “I don–”

“You love babes, darling,” Rhaenyra reminds you, voice scratchy and higher than you have ever heard it, jolting oddly at intervals. Her entire body is jerking against yours in tandem with the movements of your uncle at her back. “Don’t you want one of your own? A pretty, sweet thing with your face and uncle’s smile? How lovely it would be.”

She punctuates her statement with a hard lick straight up the split of you, making you shudder.

A babe. You do want one when the time comes. A whole little person just for you, one that you would name Viserys or Aemma or Alyssa or Baelon or Daella. You even have a small collection of items from your childhood you have saved for your future children – for one day. Not today. You try to press these thoughts out through your mouth, but the sounds will not form into words.

Your uncle chuckles, lurching more frantically against Rhaenyra, so much so that you shake from the tips of your breasts to the heels of your feet, tensing and vibrating between your legs. Your sister vocalises into your – your cunny – licking and suckling and even nipping with sharp teeth, a feeling that should not feel so good but does.

Something pops there, and you yelp as the intensity barrels through your spine and locks your toes into a curl, your blood thundering through your veins.

“Well done,” Daemon praises, grasping Rhaenyra by the hips and dragging her up. You realise with dim shock that he is coupling with her right in front of you, that it is far quicker-paced and rougher than you had ever thought it like to be. Her breathy ‘ah ah ah’ sounds seem to suggest she enjoys it. “Get that cunt nice and soaked for my cock, little girl. I’ll get to you in a moment.”

You watch as he reaches below her body and makes some kind of movement that sets her howling, jerking fully in his hold before slumping with her head on your belly, panting heavily. He steps back, and she laves along your navel mindlessly for a few moments before rolling to the side, shuffling up to lay beside you.

“Wh’ – Rh’nyra?” you slur, the vowels in your speech lost in the effort it takes to force each noise to fruition. She laughs, capturing your jaw in her hand and leading your face to hers. “’m – c’nfused,” you whimper into her mouth.

“Shh,” she soothes, tugging your knee up to your chest and holding it there, tracing lines across your lips with her tongue.

You can taste something earthy and piquant in her mouth – your own filthiness from below, from before – and rather than make you cringe, you release a shaky sound, stomach curled up so tightly you cannot tell if it is desire or nausea that drives you. She swallows it all, coaxes your lips to pucker and chase and dance with hers, silken hungry sounds that throb low in your belly. A weight settles on the bed beside your outstretched leg, in the hollow between your thighs, and you tremble at the calloused fingers that nudge into your folds.

“Fucking hells,” Daemon grunts, fondling the spread petals of your cunny, pinching the pearl of sensation at the top of your womanhood. “You’re dripping. Knew you wanted this, you little slut – just had to get you relaxed enough to do away with that damned courtesy of yours.”

You let out a tiny sob as the mortification washes through your addled mind, trying to twist away from his touch. Rhaenyra shushes you again.

“It’s alright, darling,” she reassures, kissing against your slack mouth. Your foot kicks in mid-air when something hot and hard and far too thick follows the path your uncle’s fingers made, jabbing threateningly against the place built to yield to men. “Uncle’s going to give you a babe now, isn’t that nice?”

“No,” you lament, attempting to lurch to the side, to roll to your belly and drag yourself away. But Rhaenyra has you hooked under her arm and Daemon has you pressed against the bed, raised up over you with his hand fumbling ominously between your parted legs. You are a butterfly, fluttering helplessly in spite of the pins that promise to shackle you down until your fight fades away. “No, no, no no no nonono–”

The white-hot poker shoved straight through you steals the sound from your chest and the breath from your very lungs. It is too much, too much, and you fear you might die from it even as your uncle lets out a base, animal groan above you. Your eyes fill with tears, blurring the shape of him into abstract washes of colour – silver, violet, pale, the crimson of the canopy.

“How does she feel?”

“Fff – fucking tight, gods–”

“Don’t spend yet, Daemon – poor thing, look at her–”

“Come here, sweetling,” Daemon croons, flattening himself against you so that he can lick into the open gape of your mouth, tangle his tongue with your own unresponsive one and work you into a tentative rhythm. You cry into him, you cannot help it, and when he pulls away his face is wet with your tears and the run from your nose. “It’s alright. The worst is over.”

“Hurts,” you hiccup, unable to do anything but lay there. You weep as he withdraws and pushes back in, spreading salt across a raw wound, grinding himself through your freshly-broken-in core. “St – sto–”

“Don’t be ungrateful,” Rhaenyra chides, turning your head back to her. Her expression is gentle, sympathetic as it is disapproving, and it makes you want to bury yourself in her arms and let her comfort you, to sink into the role of a nursling at the breast and be lulled by the hum of a lullaby and the soft contentment of a mother’s love.

I want my mother, you think desperately, unsure of whom you even mean – if you refer to Aemma, or Alicent, or even this sister before you who lays back and lets her husband defile you. I want my mother.

“It won’t hurt for long,” she adds. “Besides, uncle’s been very patient; he deserves a reward.”

“I have been, haven’t I?” he agrees, tipping your hips up and driving down into you, punching little yips from you with each thrust. His eyes gleam almost maniacal in the low light, the mad triumph of a man willing to commit countless atrocities to get his way. “Wanted to fuck you since I saw you on Driftmark - that ridiculous high-necked dress you were wearing, fuck - but your sister had the better idea. Get rid of Laenor, wed each other, then steal you out from under my idiot brother’s nose.”

Your mind is awash with horror even as your body gives way to the pain and lets pleasure take over, each strike of his hips against yours pulsing shudder-hot through your rippling walls and pulling you along the current to bliss once more. You hate it – hate the way you have become a whore in the bed of your sister and uncle, that you are finding enjoyment in the arms of those who would confess to murdering someone so dear to you simply because he was in the way of their covetous ambition.

Did they ever really love you?

Their attentions make sense in the worst of ways. Of course, they had no regard for you – they wanted your body, and now they have it. You are ruined, spoiled, and if you were in your right mind you might fear what will become of you now that your maidenhead has been stolen.

“Feels good now, doesn’t it?” Rhaenyra laughs, and it takes you a moment to realise that those high-pitched whimpers you can hear are in fact coming from you. “Uncle has the best cock. You’re a lucky girl.”

“You say the sweetest things, wife,” Daemon responds sardonically, and Rhaenyra leans up to kiss him. It is shocking, lewd, filthy, and yet you cannot turn away from the sight of them moaning into each other’s mouths. He does not stop his hips rocking into yours, the thud of his appendage sharp and burning against the very end of you. The slick sounds of slapping flesh make spots appear in your vision, exciting and sickening all at once. “Give her a kiss. I want to see my nieces playing together.”

She grins saucily as she bends back down to follow his command. You sink into her touch, allowing the feel and taste of her lips to banish the disjointed cacophony in your mind. A slender finger trails down your belly and catches your pearl, swirling deep circles into the tissue that make you mewl and pant.

“Are you going to peak for me, darling?” Rhaenyra says against your mouth excitedly. You keep your eyes shut, not wanting to see the victory that no doubt paints her countenance, the smug demeanour of a princess whose every whim is catered to. “I want to see you come on Uncle’s cock – go on.”

It is not until she moves to take your nipple in her mouth and suckle hard that you break, a fresh wave of sobs punctuating the attainment of that pure, unadulterated bliss, a raw nerve laid bare and bullied to satisfaction even through pain and torment. You choke on air as Daemon drives you through the end of it, grunting and groaning atop you at the clench of you around him. He sinks his teeth into your throat, pinning you down with the threat of clasping his jaw into your flesh should you attempt to bolt. It is not as though you are capable of it; whatever they had put in your wine has made you dull and slow and stupid.

“Yes,” he hisses, slurred and muffled through his teeth. He pumps harder, the bed creaking with the sheer strength of his onslaught. “This little cunt-”

It hurts now. Anything pleasurable about the feel of his body in yours has dissipated, leaving only the awareness of scraping wounds and too-stretched muscles forced to contort in unnatural positions. But you are a prisoner within your own body, caged in your own head and forced to take everything he will give you. You bite your lip so hard that you can taste blood, and you let the metallic warmth fill your palate.

He spills with an echoing growl into your skin, harsh punching jabs deep inside you that shove his seed right up against your womb, right where you want it least of all. You want a child, but not like this. Not here, not now.

“Fuck,” he pants against your shoulder, finally stilling. You stare up at the canopy, at the still silence of the fabric draped high above you. “Gods, that was fun.”

“It was, wasn’t it?”

You try to block it out, but you cannot escape the sound of their conversation. Taking you against your will is fun? The casual disregard with which they treat you sinks into your bones, a scar that settles so deep within you that none will ever unearth it. And nor can anyone heal it.

“Don’t cry, precious,” your uncle coos, extracting himself from you with a hiss and dotting gentle pecks beneath your eyes. He collapses beside you, drawing you into his chest – you have no choice but to follow, limbs loose and uncooperative with the concoction they had dosed you with. “You were a very good girl.”

You are ruined, now.

“No,” Rhaenyra says, and you realise you must have said it out loud. She settles behind you, chin tucked to your shoulder and palm stroking softly over your belly. She smells like home, and it makes you ill. “You did exactly what you were meant to. I’m sorry we had to trick you, but this was the only way to make sure we could marry. Don’t you see, darling? Now we can all be happy.”

Happy. Can you ever feel happy again? Your hands are loose fists against Daemon’s chest, primed to strike but unable to garner the vigour to carry through. He kisses the top of your head. You do not feel warm anymore.

“My two little wives,” your uncle hums, petting Rhaenyra’s hip and sliding to yours. She giggles, muttering some agreement.

A pinned butterfly, fluttering helplessly and shackled down.

You close your eyes, and your fight fades away.

Read it on AO3 here:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/44969953

660 notes · View notes

ewanmitchellcrumbs · 10 months

Note

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#rhaenyra targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen x reader #rhaenyra targaryen smut #house of the dragon #hotd #hotd smut #rhaenyra targaryen fan fiction #rhaenyra targaryen fanfiction #rhaenyra targaryen fan fic #rhaenyra targaryen fanfic #hotd fan fiction #hotd fanfiction #hotd fan fic #hotd fanfic

362 notes · View notes

certifiedskywalker · 9 months

Text

She Keeps Me Warm - Rhaenyra Targaryen

nyrathecruel asked: Could I request Rhaenyra x handmaiden!reader where they’re drawn to each other from the moment they meet and bond over their mutual trust issues regarding losing loved ones while slowly falling in love on Dragonstone? Like Nyra is cold and distant with everyone else, hesitant to let anyone in, but she just clicks with reader and whenever they’re alone, Nyra just melts and goes all soft, all affectionate touches and sweet nicknames and tender looks? (Two of my fav nicknames she’d call reader are: my little one, and Perzītsos (little flame) Maybe even a bit of soft smut, though it doesn’t have to be smut if you’re not comfortable

Anonymous asked: Could you do a Rhaenyra x fem stark reader pls :)

A/N: I had TWO IDEAS for these requests! So stay tuned for another fic publishing soon!

They were not well-kept secrets, Daemon’s unsavory proclivities. So, in turn, Rhaenyra went to neither effort to hide her misery nor how you, a simple handmaiden from the North, seemed to be its only remedy.

“Enter, perzītsos. He has gone.”

A shiver ran down your spine at the low sound of Rhaenyra’s voice and you pulled your ever-listening ear from the ironwood door. Your hand, fumbling with the wiry giddiness of a lightning bolt, found the cool handle and pushed with a turn. Tongues of yellow and orange greeted you with licks of diminished warmth along with the sight of Rhaenyra, bathed in the same glow. She sat, body spread and extended over the plush armchair before the fireplace.

“Apologies, my Princess, I did not wish to intrude on-”

“What have I told you?”

Her voice was low still, her eyes still fixed on the dwindling flames, as she addressed you. Heat rushed up to your face and washed down like the tides of the Narrow Sea. Your mouth opened slightly before you closed it, your muscles suddenly all-too-alive. Luckily, the Princess of Dragonstone, Heir to the Iron Throne, clarified.

“You must call me Rhaenyra,” she turned to you then, light eyes darkened by the colors of fire and smiling softly. “I will not have you hiding behind formality or dutiful, Northern niceties.”

“Apologies,” you echoed, swallowing hard. “I did not wish to intrude on your lawful husband…having you.”

Rhaenyra’s smile faded, ebbed into a flatline of stone sternness you recognized from meetings with the maester. “He left before dusk on Caraxes, an hour or so before by which I told you to arrive. There was no having of any sort.”

She moved to her feet then, her shoes knocking against the heated stone floor of her chambers as she approached you like the Blood Wyrm in her crimson gown. Her eyes were squinted slightly, focused on you, your face, reading how your eyes slowly widened with her every careful step. It was the same manner in which she approached you the first time: calculated, a predator eyeing prey. The lightning returned again, sending you into a brewing storm that culminated in Rhaenyra’s lips.

When she stood full before you, she leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to the column of your neck. Your breath hitched immediately, and trepidation caught in your throat.

“Princess,” you whispered, though it sounded more like a gasp. Rhaenyra immediately pulled away from your neck, revealing her furrowed brow and playful scowl. “I still do not understand.”

“My perzītsos, what more is there to understand?” Her hands raced up the bodice of your gown to your neck. Her hands were warm dancing along your most sensitive skin.

“Prince Daemon-” “Is off sowing dragonseed,” Rhaenyra said, though the ease with which she used the term alarmed you. “Just as my court remains adrift gathering council. All men, all cold, making me colder and I will not have that. I will have you.”

Rhaenyra pressed her lips back against your neck, closer to your jaw. You shivered again, your body knocking against hers instinctively, careening into her warmth. The tip of her nose tickled your skin as her lips went lower, nipping at your collarbone. Your hands rose to her waist, the whaleboning of her corset bodice. Beneath the fabric, you could feel her breathing grow more erratic. Your own breathing grew shallow with excitement, so much so that you pushed the Princess gently away.

She gave you a worried look, her hands caressing your flushed cheek. “Do you not wish to have me?”

White hot, dragon fire panic shot through your veins. “No, no, I-”

But Rhaenyra was recoiling despite your manic clarification, already reigning in herself, her want. She was cooling into her hardened self, the soul sent off to Dragonstone by the eyes of the critical court in King’s Landing. You had seen it too many times before. How practiced Rhaenyra was as holding parts of herself back.

You reached out, just as she had, with your lips finding her neck first and your hands on her gowned hips. She was stiff under your touch but for a moment until she quickly melted into you as your mouth moved up. You pressed a lingering kiss to her cheek before pulling away, eager to see her pleased, unworried; eager to see the Rhaenyra she only seemed to show you.

“I don’t understand what it means,” you breathed out, not entirely knowing what you yourself meant, only that whatever it was made your heart sing.

Rhaenyra seemed to reach and read the most clouded part of your mind, obscured to even you. Her smile returned in glorious full and you felt your heart tickle in your chest. In turn, you felt your own lips quirk upwards, ready to swallow the newness of it all.

“You mean perzītsos?”

You nodded, unsure at first, but, sure in how it made Rhaenyra smile.

“Perzītsos. Little flame. You burn in me. You keep me warm,” Rhaenyra softened, then, her smile ebbing ever-so-slightly. “In the darkest moments, you keep me alive.”

Without wasting another second lost in the storm, you barreled through and crashed your lips into Rhaenyra’s. It felt like you were falling until you actually were as Rhaenyra pulled you down onto the silken sheets of her bed, and the rest was warm.

131 notes · View notes

happyhauntt · 2 months

Text

➡ faye's writing masterlist.

here you can find all my published oneshots, blurbs & series! some content may be crossposted on my ao3 account, happyhauntt. i accept requests! check out the list of characters / fandoms i'll write for.

𝐡𝐩 & 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐞𝐫𝐚.

young gods ── canon [1.2k] ➡ the gryffindors have a little tradition on their first night back at hogwarts.

famous last words ── james potter x reader [2.1k] ➡ you and james are sworn enemies. you find you quite like it that way.

a writer & his muse ── sirius black x reader [1k] ➡ renowned mystery writer sirius black has a new muse in his life, and unfortunately, it's you. castle!au.

la vie en rose ── sirius black x reader [1.8k] ➡ it's just a regular tuesday in july until an escaped convict appears in your kitchen. oh, and he happens to be your ex.

oh, captain! ── cedric diggory x oc [series masterlist] ➡ megan wynne jones wants to be the best, but there's one annoyingly perfect boy standing in her way: cedric diggory.

𝐠𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞.

haunted ── alina starkov x reader [1.1k] ➡ alina starkov is dead, except she isn't, and the memory of her haunts you constantly.

gold rush ── nikolai lantsov x oc [series masterlist] ➡ it doesn't matter what she calls him. pirate, privateer, prince, sobachka, her heart aches for a man she knows she can never truly have. nikolai lantsov, the hope of ravka. anya kamenev, ravka's bane. oh, what a pair they make. a series of interconnected oneshots about nikolai & anya.

𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐬.

a grey day ── spencer reid x medical examiner!reader [1.3k] ➡ spencer meets the newest member of the department.

a lack of caffeine ── spencer reid x medical examiner!reader [1.8k] ➡ caffeine makes the world go 'round. that's something you and spencer can agree on. follow up to 'a grey day'.

bury these bones ── spencer reid x medical examiner!reader [1.9k] ➡ spencer’s day isn’t anything more than average, but a surprise phone call and impromptu hospital visit have him rethinking his expectations.

𝟗-𝟏-𝟏.

a touch of colour ── eddie diaz x reader [2.7k] ➡ eddie and chris' home is freakishly empty. you decide to redecorate a little.

𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐬.

fight or flight ── poe dameron x solo!reader [1.6k] ➡ you and poe have never seen eye-to-eye. most days, you wonder if you ever will.

beautiful ghosts ── star wars [series masterlist] ➡ nearly thirty years after the empire’s fall, something darker has risen in its place. helmed by a monster who makes puppets out of lost, broken boys, the first order seeks to crush the galaxy once and for all ━━ and the resistance, led once again by general leia organa and her wife, colonel ashka cybele, will stop it by whatever means necessary. if that means sacrificing their children, then that is what they must do. multiple x ocs. a sequel trilogy rewrite.

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬.

burial ground ── finnick odair x oc [series masterlist] ➡ In District Four, they teach you how to survive the Games. They don’t teach you how to survive what comes after.

𝐝𝐨𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐰𝐡𝐨.

in the light ── the doctor x oc [series masterlist] ➡ the doctor doesn't believe in lost causes. fox is determined to prove them wrong.

𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬.

hello sunshine ── steve harrington x oc [series masterlist] ➡ cleo has lived in the house next door her whole entire life ─ and nobody has ever questioned what came before, not even once.

𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐢𝐚𝐟 𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞.

we are a god ── rhaenyra targaryen x oc x alicent hightower [coming soon] ➡ none could have foretold, when viola first set foot in the red keep at the tender age of seven, the havoc she would wreak upon the political landscape of the seven kingdoms. least of all the girl herself.

inkpot gods ── jaime lannister x oc [series masterlist] ➡ a tourney at Harrenhal causes a war to ignite, and cassia finds herself caught in the very center of a world where good men do unforgivable things, and the bad men are even worse.

#happyhauntt masterlist #harry potter masterlist #marauders era masterlist #cedric diggory fanfiction #grishaverse masterlist #shadow and bone masterlist #nikolai lantsov fanfiction #doctor who masterlist #doctor who fanfiction #asoiaf masterlist #asoiaf fanfiction #alicent hightower fanfiction #jaime lannister fanfiction #rhaenyra targaryen fanfiction #steve harrington fanfiction #finnick odair fanfiction #* masterlist.

31 notes · View notes

dae-daetargaryen · 1 year

Text

Take Me As I Am

A/N: surprise and henlo, so this is my vERy fiRst daEmyra fic, its not much but im happy to share it to all of you

Warnings: nope 👀 bc this is my first daemyra fic, you deserve a surprise HAAHAHHAA enjoy

"Wed her to me."

Her heart stopped,she couldn't believe her ears although a smile crept up on her face,her uncle was dead serious.

"When I offered up my crown you said I could have anything,"

Viserys did say he could have anything.

"I want Rhaenyra, I'll take her as she is and wed her in the tradition of our house."

She leaned on the door, processing what Daemon had proposed to her father.He just asked him to wed them, finally. She always dreamt of this moment,longing to finally be with him despite the circumstances. Rhaenyra loved Daemon ever since, he had been with her always.She closed her eyes as she drifts off to reminisce some memories they had, he have been always attentive to her, enchanting her with tales of his adventures,and never missed a single night without kissing her forehead as she drifts off to sleep every night.

She quietly moves to eavesdrop and twitched when she saw her father,gripping her uncle and slamming him on the floor.Of course, her father would not allow it.She wanted to step in between them and confess her feelings for Daemon,but decided against it.For she knows its wrong and realizes that Daemon just wanted the throne,not her. A tear fell from her eye after realizing it all.

It will never be her.

She chose to not wear anything underneath her night dress for she had planned again to pleasure herself that night.She is still not sure if Daemon really meant everything he said to her father, but it is worth celebrating.She made sure her doors were locked and let the curtains open a bit so that the moonlight could pass through.She begins to rethink her dreams, and as if making them real. She had been pleasuring herself every night,recalling and what her mind told her how would the Daemon of her dreams take her.

They were times she couldn't hold back her whimpers,and never even cared if somebody heard.Rhaenyra didn't care.She made her handmaidens go away early just so she would savor her solitude.In that way, she was able to cope without literally touching her uncle.

She begins to fix her bed and plopped on it, closing her eyes and breathes, sliding her hands down to her clothed breasts and -

"Princess?"

She jolted up from the bed when she heard her uncle's voice.The prince opened her doors, she made sure she locked them, but sighed and realizing that from being to excited, she completely forgot that she just pushed it close and made a quick change of her clothes. Idiot.

She scrambled up from her bed and clasps her hands together behind her, trying to look innocent as possible so that her dear uncle wouldn't suspect anything bizzare that's happening a while ago before he got inside.

Daemon peers in to look for her, her room is spacious and he found her, her bed was made up, but her night dress was disheveled.He took her all in as he looked from her soft face down to her chest,revealing some skin that he always wished to see, then adverted his hungry eyes back to her face.

"I looked for you in the gardens, you weren't there.I thought you agreed upon meeting me,"He said.The princess clasped her hands harder, cursing silently for forgetting that she was suppose to meet him.

"I'm sorry,uncle.I was just busy at the moment,"She looked up to see him go around the bed, inching closer to her."Too busy to see your dear uncle?" Rhaenyra closed her eyes for a bit, sighing in defeat. Her lie was so obvious,and Daemon chuckled softly as he begins to circle her.

"W-we could discuss it here right now, if you like,"She hated the way she stuttered and Daemon stopped.

"Actually, yes your room would be perfect than the gardens,"

Rhaenyra stilled as Daemon came closer,his hands begins to fix her night dress.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, my sweet, I think I may have heard you, several nights.."

She froze.Had he heard every single whimper from her lips?

She stilled again unable to move,her head hung down in embarassment for a short time, and regretting her loud moans that she wished she never made every night.Daemon gave her the softest smile, "You were touching yourself." He smiles and slowly backed away,leaving her breathless even though he didn't touched her fully.He gently plopped himself down on her couch, sinking into the cushions.

He pats his knee, beckoning her to come to him.

"Sit."

Rhaenyra's eyes widened. Sit?

Oh, how she suddenly feel concious about her lack of clothing.

She cursed silently under her breath for not wearing them.Maybe he just wants to have a niece and uncle chat like they always do when she was a little girl. He wouldn't notice,would he?

And she nodded, walking slowly to him.She used to do this since she was a just a little girl, what difference could it make?

Daemon's hands landed on her waist once again, making her shiver.

"Come here," He pulled her closer, so close that his nose brushed the fabric of her thin dress.The princess trusted him her whole heart.Rhaenyra reached out to put one hand on his shoulder to balance herself as she climbs up on his lap, making sure her dress stays down and her backside covered as her butt made contact with his thighs.She didn't want him to know she wasn't wearing anything underneath.

Daemon gazed at her as if she is his wife.He never looked at anyone like this, not even at Rhea obviously, nor Mysaria.

Then his expert hands place themselves around the curve of her small waist,with his niece denying the fact that she always dreamed of this moment.

His hands move slowly as possible, caressing every inch of her clothed body,oh how he wanted to rip that fucking dress off.Rhaenyra kept her hands to herself, afraid that this moment might get awkward if she were to give in to this.But, Daemon, he took them, placed them gently on his chest as he got back to give her comforting touches again.

This time, his palms passed down to her hips, then he knew, she wasn't wearing anything underneath.

Rhaenyra wanted to get off of him. Of course, he knew.He's not dumb.

Instead of climbing down, her head hung low, choosing not to look into his eyes, and didn't even want this moment to end even though she is embarrassed with him knowing her little secret.

He tilted her chin up, her eyes meeting his as he kissed her soft lips briefly then gazed up at her again.

" Rhaenyra.." He purrs and Rhaenyra was dead aware of how his hands are now pushing her thin skirt up,exposing her bare thighs.

She shivered as his strong hands made contact with her skin, flattening his palms,making circles that made her sigh quietly.

Daemon was one step away from undressing her, and she had to hold onto him for dear life.

"Uncle..we shouldn't be.." She was silenced by his lips on her jaw, kissing his way to whisper in her ear.

"Not a single fucking cunt can hear if you choose to stay quiet." And Rhaenyra gave in.

She had to hold back a moan when he gently nipped at the lobe of her ear, his breath kissing her skin.He pulled back abruptly, making his niece give him a look that turned him on.

He pulled her even closer, his lips on her chest.

"Now tell me, do you touch yourself more often?" He begins to slip the straps of her dress in a tantalizing slow pace, gently nipping at her right shoulder.Rhaenyra was yet silent again as her uncle fully discarded the annoying straps of her dress, revealing her firm soft breasts.

His lips brushed her skin as he pulled her closer,making her rise up a bit. "You didn't answer me, sweetness." She nodded and he smiles up at her before devouring her right mound, his hot mouth suckled on her nipple.She gasps as he continued,his other hand on her left one.She pulled him closer when she felt his warm tongue touch her right nipple, licking it lazily as he watched her reactions.He switched to the left one,nuzzling it first before giving it the same attention.She held his head, her fingers threading through his silver hair as he praised her breasts.

He then moved up to her lips, pushing his tongue into her mouth, while he splays his fingers against the inner flesh of her thigh.He stopped kissing her and leaned back a bit, wanting to see her face as his middle finger traces from her clit and slowly moving downwards.

"Kepus.." She desperately rolled her hips at his touch.He claimed her neck, pressing open- mouthed kisses on the skin behind her ear.

"Spread your legs." He whispered,his lips brushing her cheek as he pulled away again.She moved, only to feel his nimble finger trace her once again,making her whimper at his loving touch.Daemon was enjoying this so much.Rhaenyra's head fell forward as he pressed his fingers into her warm folds,her hands clawing at his chest.

"Uncle.."

No one has ever touched her before.No one has ever touched her like this, no one but Daemon.

She longed to be touched like this,she dreamt of it mostly every night.Daemon held her head up, kissing her cheek as he begins to draw small circles on her nub, making her mouth fall open.

"Shh.."He says into her hair while his fingers traveled deeper inside of her, his thumb now on her little nub,rubbing faster than before.A cry escaped from her lips as she holds onto his head for dear life,gripping his hair.Daemon smiled like bastard,as Rhaenyra took it all in.

He firmly held her waist as he moves his fingers, in and out of her.

"You...you said.." She closes her eyes as he slides his fingers up to her clit.

"Y- you -you would take me as I am." She managed to say as she whimpered from his touch.

Daemon looked up again to her face as her head lolled back from the magic touch of his fingers.

He smirked, " You sweet girl, you've been listening?"

She nodded,embarassed,but still rode his fingers desperately. He added a third finger, and Rhaenyra couldn't contain her squeaks and her moans are getting louder and louder that he had to tuck her head on his shoulder to shush her again.

His shoulder was no use, so he switched it with his mouth, silencing her moans as he kissed her.

"Move."He whispered to her lips, urging her to move against his fingers.Rhaenyra moved slowly, letting him thrust his fingers to her clit,trying to stay as quiet as possible.

Daemon licked her nipples lazily as she moves forward,her clit wanting more.She had been moving for a couple of minutes until she collapsed into him, his nimble fingers still tracing her wet soft folds.

Then he lets her rest on his chest for a minute,whispering sweet nothings to her ear as he strokes her hair.He caressed her soft back, earning a sigh from the princess.Rhaenyra pulled back up and saw her dear uncle smiling sweetly, bringing his hand to her soft face,tucking a stray strand of her hair behind her ear. "Did you mean it?" She asked in a small voice, afraid of his answer.She won't let him touch her again if she knew he was just using her to win his brother's throne.

The rogue prince sighed, despite everything and Viserys,he only wishes to spend the rest of his life with her. Of course he meant it.

He pulled her closer again, pulling off her night dress over her head as he pressed a searing kiss on her collarbone. With that,Rhaenyra smiled down at him.

"Every word."

shoutout to:

Tags🤍

@grandlovescheme @nyctophilic0vitnir @janelei @eschercaine @valkyrriee @taketotheskies @the-dragon-heiress @daemyrachaos @rhaenyratumbles @lady-phasma @multifanderisspooky @flamehairedsiren @theobjectofyourire @gipsydanger17 @deseretsolitaire @profoundlydecadentmentality-blog @nyrasblog @missyviolet123

188 notes · View notes

welldonebeca · 10 months

Text

Two Weeks (11 years) - II

Summary: When the kids to spend two weeks with Laenor, Rhaenyra and Daemon are truly alone for the first time in 11 years. They want a new baby. She's ovulating. It's the perfect timing. (Set in 2016) WC: 1.5k words Warnings: Playful seduction. A little bit of prey/predator style play? Sorta. Oral sex. Orgasm control/denial. Teasing. Dirty talking. Possessive sex. "You're mine. I'm yours." Breeding kink. Mean sex. Praising kink. Degrading kink. Kepus kink. Ruined orgasm.

Keeping Up with The Targaryens - Masterlist

If you like my work, consider buying me a coffee or subscribing to my Patreon. It’s just $2 a month and helps a lot while I go through these hard times.

Masterlist

Rhaenyra took off into the house, kicking her shoes off of her feet as she passed through the corridor.

Wait. Where would she go?

Sex was usually always in their bedroom, squeezed in her lunch break when she came home from the office, or while Joff napped the days she worked from home, and during the night, always trying to be quiet.

Now they had the whole house to themselves for two whole weeks.

And she didn't have any work to do for those days.

She stepped through the corridor and considered entering the library, but there was no second door in it, and opted for the stairs, climbing to the first floor before taking off her underwear, and giggled when Daemon stopped in the living room.

"Ñuha daria," he called. "I built this house for us. Do you think you can ever hide away from me here?"

He did. Before they even got together, Daemon had started the construction. Rhaenyra didn't know how much Laena knew of the truth of their relationship, but he seemed to know they would be together before Rhaenyra even did.

They had just moved, and most of the property was still being built, but the general structure was up and running. Kitchen, library, two bathrooms - almost three - and three rooms - their room, the girls' room, and the older boys' room. Joffrey was sleeping in their closet. But construction was going fast, and by the time they came back from spending their Christmas and New Years with Laenor, all five rooms would be done and ready for them to move.

Rhaenyra tossed her knickers from the balcony and he picked them up in the air.

"A favour," she teased. "To my dragon knight."

Daemon pressed them to his nose before putting them in his pocket, walking up the stairs with the confidence of a man who would make her pay for everything in a way she would enjoy very much.

She waited for him to be close to her to bolt to the other side of their looming balcony, and she was running near the stairs again she was a giggling mess when she reached the stairs, and Daemon picked up his stairs.

"Rhaenyra," he called, tauntingly. "I'll have you pay for this."

She rushed down the steps.

"Yes, I've been hoping for that," she laughed, breathless by now.

Daemon’s punishments were very… interesting.

She stopped to take a breath when she reached the kitchen, and Daemon entered it, almost reaching her when she ran behind a kitchen island.

"You're gonna get me?" Rhaenyra giggled.

But he didn't answer, and they circled the island comically for half a minute before he suddenly changed his course right as she ran to the other side, grabbing her by the middle.

"I got you," her husband hissed, tickling her sides as he picked her up.

Rhaenyra giggled away, breathless as his hands teased her endlessly on her sensitive belly, barely processing the way he was pushing her skirt up and up.

But the time he stopped, she was lying on the dark stone counter, and he had her hips tight in his hands.

She tilted her head, looking at him with a silly smile on her face.

"Yes?"

Daemon shook his head.

"Something I wish I could have done the day you ignored me in that kitchen," he spread her legs. “Fucking fell in love with you that night and you were all giggly over your little friend to notice.”

But that made her frown.

Kitchen?

She didn't quite remember that.

He bent down anyway, licking her pussy from entrance to clit, and just held her when she gasped and jumped.

"Daemon!" she moaned, anyway.

He licked her with gusto, holding her by her thighs as he buried his nose in her trimmed curls he so loudly adored, moaning into her cunt.

No one had ever eaten her out the way Daemon did. It was like he needed her pussy to live whenever he was between her legs, like she was the most delicious thing he had ever tasted.

She grabbed him by his hair, glad that was growing it out already. Daemon loved the curls between her hair, and she loved to have his long luscious hair between them just as much. It reminded her of when they were young, and he strode into her life for the first time, right after her mother's funeral.

Rhaenyra would never forget him, tall and beautiful, hair so long it reached his waist, tossed over his broad shoulders.

His presence was captivating. Everything in him was.

She had ached for him for so long - fifteen years - but now he was hers and only hers.

"Daemon," she moaned, feeling him licking and sucking her clit.

He pushed two fingers into her, curling them inside her and brushing against her g-spot, and pulled back to look at her, face wet wet with her juices.

"Oh, my love," Daemon kissed her thigh. "Did running away from me make you wet?"

She smirked a little, resting on the cool counter.

"I like teasing you," Rhaenyra smirked. "I like it when you hold me like that."

He held her thighs a little tighter.

"Like this?" he arched his eyebrow, looking very interested.

"Strong," she smiled. "Close."

His gaze softened a little.

"Tell me more?" he kissed her thigh.

Rhaenyra smiled.

"You pin me down and hold me," she raised her hips. "Devour me, like you need me to breathe."

"And I do," he fucked her slowly. "I need you."

His fingers rubbed her sensitive walls skilfully, already trained on her body.

Rhaenyra shuddered, and he pinned her down a little tighter when she squirmed with the pleasure.

Fuck, his fingers were right on her g-spot. Daemon knew what that did to her.

"And you're mine," she moaned. "Always wanted you to be mine."

"I'm yours," he affirmed.

She moaned and he rubbed her more insistently.

"Mine," she whined.

Daemon licked his lips as she felt her body reacting to him to everything.

"You are my wife," he crooned. "My sweet little wife, mine to love and fuck and breed."

Rhaenyra moaned, squirming, arching to him.

"Daemon," she cried. "Please, just..."

"Just what, wife?" he angled his hand, touch far, far away from her clit. "Just fuck me more, tease me more?"

She shook his head, pouting, whining.

"Touch me," she pleaded.

Daemon licked his lips.

"But I'm touching you," he spoke as if it was obvious. "I'm touching my sweet wife."

But she wasn't touching her right!

"My sweet niece," he hummed. "Worked so hard to get me and finally did."

Daemon pushed a third finger into her, filling her pussy.

"Always so receptive to me, aren't you, sweetheart?" he praised. "Take whatever I give so, so well..."

Rhaenyra's legs trembled.

Fuck, just one little rub to her clit, just one...

"Kepus," she cried. "Don't be mean."

Daemon feigned a pout.

"Mean?" he asked. "No, my love. This isn't me being mean. I'm being nice, very nice."

He tilted his head, looking at her cruelly.

"When I'm mean to you, I slap your pussy until you're crying," he reminded her. "That's being mean."

Rhaenyra almost gushed at the memory, forgetting how ruthless her uncle could be.

"You remember that, sweet wife?" he cooed softly. "What you got for your 19th birthday?"

She moaned, tossing her head back.

It was the first - and only, for a while - time he had actually touched her back them. Daemon had gotten tired of her being a brat and slapped her into a mess before leaving her throbbing and wanting, prohibiting her from cumming without his permission, only given three days later in a phone call.

"I've been too soft on you," he fucked her a little more insistently, stimulating her from inside. "Spent this year pampering you, and you call me mean?"

She cried, but he held her down from even moving, his hand pressing her mound and making everything even more intense.

"Daemon!"

"You're getting too spoiled," he accused. "Of course it falls into my hands to teach you a lesson, silly, silly, silly girl."

Her legs shook, and he slapped her thighs.

"We can't have another instance of you running off with a new husband just because you are a needy whore," Daemon clicked his tongue.

Rhaenyra came so loudly it could have echoed through the whole house.

Her body shook, but he took his hand away, just holding her down by her hips as she trembled in her ruined orgasm, slapping the counter as she did.

"No, no," she cried, trying to reach for him, but he pined her hands down over her belly. "Daemon! Please!"

Her husband cocked his head with a blank look on his face, watching her pussy before looking at her face.

"This is being mean, my love," he corrected her.

Daemon pulled his hands away from her, adjusting his shoulders and breathing out, and Rhaenyra was still quivering when he moved to her and petted her hair, pushing some behind her ear.

"Now, sweet girl," he spoke softly. "Why don't you tell me with your words what you want?"

Rhaenyra swallowed down.

"I want you to fuck a baby into me, kepus," she pouted. "Please?"

His lips curled in a small smile.

"I'll be happy to."

#Welldonebeca's Two Weeks (11 Years)#daemyra fanfiction #daemyra fic #daemyra #daemyra smut #daemon x rhaenyra #daemon targaryen fanfiction #daemon smut #rhaenyra targaryen x daemon targaryen #daemon targeryan #daemon targaryen #daemon #rhaenyra targaryen fanfiction #rhaenyra targaryen imagine #rhaenyra targaryen fluff #rhaenyra targaryen angst #rhaenyra targaryen #house of the dragon

31 notes · View notes