FanFic

BladeofGlory26 on AO3 18+ Blog

[gobidragon-67]

MASTER LIST

A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms

Smut (Minors DNI)

By What Right? - Baelor and female OC

Character Scenarios

AKOSK & Engagement Rings

Desserts

Baelor & Bertie Carvel Brainrot

Baking for Baelor Did I take this photo? Straight up Feral Perfect Wife Facial Hair His study Bedroom Domestic ASF

[gobidragon-67]

Daemon Targaryen the Uncle/Husband That You Are...

Let's discuss how this moment from last week's episode of House of the Dragon was insanely hot.

He didn't stir when she entered the room because he knew it was her

He let let her lay down before reaching for her

He never opened his eyes

The scars on his chest

Lacing his fingers with hers

Being Daemon fucking Targaryen

[hayatistic]

do u think baelor would like somno 🧐

of course he would 🙂‍↕️

—

(nsfw) pre-established consent. somnophilia.

baelor both hates and loves when council meetings run late into the night, consuming his time until he’s only able to make it to bed hours after he knows you have retired and are, most likely, deep in sleep.

he hates it because he doesn’t get to spend that short time between duty and rest discussing how your day went, whether you enjoyed your supper, or if you had read anything interesting.

he loves it because it means when he does slip into your shared chambers, he can climb beneath the covers, remove your sheer nightgown, spread your legs, bring you to completion on his fingers and mouth, and then, finally, slide his aching cock into your relaxed, wet cunt.

“so warm and willing, my dear,” he murmurs against your ear, lightly nipping at the lobe as he rocks his hips forward, not stopping until he’s sheathed himself entirely within your warm, clenching passage. 

when you mewl at the sensation, baelor’s quick to softly croon, “I’ll take care of you, sweet girl–gods, yes–it’s all right,” as he runs the back of his fingers over the plush flesh of your cheek.

even in your state of unconsciousness, your skin heats beneath his touch in a way that makes his heart jump and cock twitch.

he can manipulate you easier like this, when you’re not tense from embarrassment or shying away from his curious eyes and inquisitive touch; his tongue has access to every part of you, from your toes to your armpits, licking at you as though only you can satiate the hunger his late supper could not.

“always so wet for me, sweetness,” he mumbles against your throat, voice velvety and subdued as his words mix with the filthy, squelching sound of his cock repeatedly splitting you apart before withdrawing until only the tip of his length is keeping you spread.

he freezes when you let out a quiet, “baelor,” that blends into a needy sigh, only resuming his movements when your lashes cease fluttering and breathing returns to a deep, steady rhythm.

“gods,” he bites out, lowering his hand to rub your clit in tandem with the speed of his tender thrusts, continuing even when he feels you clench around him as he brings you to completion. “that’s it, my dear.”

you’re arching up into him, thighs quivering and lips parting to whimper before your body relaxes back into the silken sheets, a content expression etching itself onto your slumbering face in the aftermath of your third release.

“yes, sweet girl.”

a handful of thrusts later, he’s pausing to spill his seed deep within you, hands squeezing the pillow your head rests upon as he lets out a low, guttural moan of his own into the crook of your neck.

baelor remains sheathed within you for several moments, reluctant to leave your heat.

when he catches his breath, he languidly pulls out, lowering himself until his face is level with your cunt to watch the way his cum slowly drips down your slit; he uses two fingers to push his release back inside of you before it’s able to seep into the bedding below, eyes glinting when he notices how desperate your hole is to lure him back in.

“baelor?” his name is slurred on your sleepy tongue, but he responds to it immediately–rising on his hands and knees to press a kiss against your forehead.

“you must be exhausted, my dear,” is his response against your heated skin; he gathers you in his arms and then moves to lay on his back, dragging you atop his chest in the process. “do not awaken for my sake, please.”

baelor’s hands massage circles into your bare back after he pulls the covers over your sated forms.

barely a beat passes before your hips are moving against the partially softened length of his cock, using your wetness and his escaping cum to easily slide it within your folds until you’re shaking in his hold as another release shoots through you.

heat spreads over your body in patches as baelor coos against your hair and cants his hips upwards to assist you with riding it out.

you can hear the mess between your legs, certain that your combined fluids have turned frothy and vulgar–yet, you find yourself uncaring as your burning cheek presses into the clothed expanse of his chest as you slip back into unconsciousness.

[gobidragon-67]

Monday morning thoughts

Thinking about the love of my life, Baelor Targaryen.

I mean, look at him.

[gobidragon-67]

Bertie Hands!

Found this on X courtsey of @ AleandoraS. There's also a GIF of it...which it won't let me download. 🥲

[plutoingrey]

what in the baba carvel is going on

[ildico-the-golden]

hiya! i know you have a bunch of requests atm so i totally understand if you don’t take this one but i’d like to request 53 for modern baelor <3

i had this sitting in my drafts for too long because i got Maekar-drunk with all the requests i got for him (can you blame me tho) so sorry for the delay, hope you enjoy, dear anon <3

Grateful Prompt List

53. Morning Sex | modern!BFF's dad!Baelor x f!reader

You woke before he did, which was rare.

Baelor was an early riser. Something about the quiet of the morning suiting the way his brain worked, he'd explained once, the absence of external input giving him space to think before the day made its demands. Most mornings you surfaced to the sound of him already somewhere in the flat, the distant smell of tea, the particular quality of occupied silence that meant he was reading.

This morning he was still here.

On his side, facing you, one arm loose across your waist in sleep, his hair disordered against the pillow in a way he would only allow if he were too deep into his work and that you had quietly catalogued as one of your favourite things of him. His face, in sleep, had none of the composed deliberateness it carried through the day — just him, plain and warm and slightly open-mouthed, the mismatched eyes closed.

He surfaced slowly, the way he did everything, gradually, then all at once, his eyes opening and finding you immediately with the unfocused warmth of someone not yet managing their reactions.

"Hi," you said softly, smiling.

"Hi." His voice was rough with sleep and entirely unguarded, and the arm across your waist tightened slightly, pulling you closer without any apparent decision behind it. Just reflex. Just wanting you nearer.

"You slept late today."

"Mm." He blinked, slow. "What time is it."

"Early enough that it doesn't matter."

He seemed to accept this. His eyes moved over your face with the same attention he gave everything, except softer, the deliberateness of it not yet assembled. His thumb traced a slow arc across your hip.

"You've been watching me sleep," he noted.

"I've been lying here." You kept your voice very innocent. "You just happened to be asleep."

"You were watching me sleep." The composure was already assembling itself, finding things faintly amusing even now, and he pressed his mouth to your forehead before you could argue the point further.

It started there, unhurried, his mouth moving from your forehead to your temple to the corner of your jaw, a slow meandering path with no particular urgency behind it, just warmth and proximity and the specific quality of a man who had nowhere to be and had decided to remain that way a while longer.

You turned your face up to him and he found your mouth, and the kiss was soft and slow and tasted like sleep, the particular quality of something that wasn't going anywhere fast and didn't need to.

"What a nice way to start a morning," against your mouth, quiet.

"Want to make it better?" you answered.

His hands moved over you slowly — your shoulder, the curve of your waist, the line of your spine — relearning the geography of you the way he sometimes did, as though he'd been away longer than one night's sleep and needed to confirm nothing had changed. You ran your fingers through his disordered hair and felt him make a low, contented sound against your throat.

"Your hair is a disaster," you told him.

"Your fault." A pause. "You were using it as a handhold last night."

"Your fault," you corrected. "You are very good at what you do." He laughed and pressed another line of kisses across your chest.

He pulled you properly against him, resting over you, your leg sliding over his lower back, and the shift from sleepy warmth to something softer and more deliberate happened so gradually you barely registered the moment it changed. His mouth at your throat, your collarbone, your shoulder, taking his time the way he always did but with a particular morning quality to it, quieter than usual, more tender, the composure not yet fully assembled which meant everything that lived underneath it was simply on the surface instead.

"Okay?" Low, against your skin.

"Very okay," you murmured.

He moved over you slowly, settling between your thighs with the careful consideration he brought to everything, and when he pushed inside you it was slow and deep and his forehead dropped to yours and you both exhaled at the same moment — the specific sound of something settling into place.

He didn't rush. He moved with the same unhurried quality as everything else about the morning — deep, steady, his eyes open and on your face, his hands moving constantly, your hair, your jaw, the line of your throat, touching you with a thoroughness that was less about building toward anything and more about simply being here, paying attention, present in every point of contact.

"You're looking at me," you said, your hands moving from his chest to the back of his neck, scraping lightly at his nape.

"I'm always looking at you."

"You have that funny look in your eyes."

"Funny look?" he chuckled, the composure was warm rather than managed at this hour. "It seems I'm not doing a good job, then. What I wanted to show was complete and utter adoration."

You laughed at his smug response, and he smiled at the laugh and kissed you, and the rhythm he kept was so slow and warm and deliberate that the orgasm when it came was less like something breaking and more like something opening, long and soft and complete, his name said quietly against his shoulder. He followed you shortly after with his face in your neck, your name and nothing else, his whole body stilling against yours.

You lay tangled together in the quiet after, his weight half over you, neither of you in any hurry to move toward the day.

"I'll make some tea," he said eventually, into your shoulder, pressing a tender kiss against it.

"Ten minutes," you said and pulled him tightly against you, your legs caging his frame with a chuckle. "You're not going anywhere yet."

A pause in which he appeared to consider objecting and concluded against it. His arm tightened around you instead, and you felt him smile against your skin — warm, unhurried, entirely unmanaged.

"Ten," he agreed, and stayed exactly where he was.

↪︎want more modern!BFF's dad!Baelor? check out this masterlist!

[solgarmr]

(take this very loosely bc i indulged in an aperol spritz before the event began and was going through Something Homosexually Charged the whole time the interview went on but) things Bertie Carvel said tonight at the Italian Global Series Festival event in Rimini:

• he used to LARP, got his first sword at eleven years old (he used to do stage fighting in drama school and absolutely loved it). playing Baelor and standing in a muddy field wearing an armour brought him right back to those happy times

• he's very proud of Baelor as a character and of himself for having brought Baelor to life. he said that if he were to put the characters he's played in a line-up, baelor would stand out because that's him, that's Bertie's face and he seldom gets to wear just his own face. He actually prefers to be just him

• Baelor is very dear to him. the world needs to see heroes and people who show up and do the right thing, now more than ever

• literally waxed poetry about Peter Claffey. said that acting with him was incredibly easy because that's what happens when the people you share your lines with are good. said that Peter and Dunk share a lot of similarities, that Dunk resides in Peter's comfort zone as much as Baelor resides in Bertie's and that made the acting feel natural

• the first thing he asked to the costume department when they did the armour fitting was to have a flap somewhere on the armour. front and back. this dude istg

• he likes playing political figures, especially if he can slip into their minds and build something recognizable that creates a connection between the audience and the "hidden" actor. he was asked if there's a particular politician he would like to play and replied that he usually prefers to be offered a part without him manifesting it. he also misses the selection process and wishes he could get back to experiencing some good old anxiety from competing to get a part

• his family is two generations deep into political journalism. his grandfather (scottish, btw) and father used to write papers about England's political affairs and went on about some hours-long speech politicians used to hold in Parliament, how those men used to take a drink to strengthen themselves before hearing said speech (he mentioned 1947? It was a whole papa beaver situation and it was late, some details about this report are foggy. Forgive Me) and his grandfather asked about what kind of drink it was so that he could have a scoop. the story ends with people resigning and both his grandfather a father dying of a, quote unquote, broken heart

• he was asked something about managing his characters after their story ends and if he imagines their lives after he's done playing them and. he said. that this question made him think about what happens to the letters and e-mails you write but never end up sending. the ones sitting in your drafts. what happens when you delete them? do they stay in the cloud somewhere, is the trace of their existence gone forever? he doesn't know if the afterlife exists but he does keep on loving the people he shared a life with, and the same goes for his characters

• he loves playing Dalgliesh because he's an interesting man, he was dubious about whether the people needed another detective but he got to understand that yes, people love following a detective because we love seeing a mystery get solved. he questioned how come we as creatures on earth think that having a cup of tea and watching a detective solving crime on the telly makes our whole night (he declared himself guilty of being part of this ritual). he actually directed two episodes and needed to work around the library of sound cues that were already been composed, so he got to also stand on the other side of the camera and he's proud of himself for having taken that risk. he defined Dalglish as poetic, deeply sensitive

• when he was asked why he played two characters in The Crown, he laughed and said he needed the money

• he misses the theatre. extensively talked about favoring the theatre over filmmaking because the first demands a slower process, one that counts the audience as an integral part of the play, whereas filmmaking is a fast game, actors don't know which takes are going to be used once they close a set so they have to do the best they can as quickly as possibile. theatre means growth, experimenting, trial and error, and he loves the highs and lows of it

• two wolves live inside of him: one that wants the script to be the only sacred text he refers to when playing a character and the other that researches to the point of obsession. when movies or shows find their original source in books, he sometimes reads them and sometimes doesn't because he doesn't really know how to manages the conflict that grows inside of him when something gets changed for the sake of a screen adaptation. he's worked with directors that were open to changing the script once he brought up a detail he liked from the project's source material, but he tends to avoid doing this. he needs to do proper research to get something in his guts to switch and click when he plays political figures, though. but yeah, he sways and touches both neds of the stick, depends on the part

• "every part you play is political. and if it's not, i don't know how"

and now i really need to go to bed bc i'm exhausted and writing in english after midnight turned my brain into mush but before i do. let me share this picture and the story behind it.

picture me standing right next to this man. politely waiting for my turn to thank him for spending his time with us. literally waiting at his side. the translator (an exceptional woman btw) shows him something on her phone. he fishes his own phone out of his pocket. he's got a hot pink phone cover. opens the cover. pulls out a pair of what i can't even define reading glasses. they're pince-nez. clear. puts them on and they're there, just sitting on his nose. unbelievable.

oh and he was wearing an embroidered shirt. also, like, you know. big hands

[luckieangel]

if you get horny out of the blue it’s because you and that fictional man are fucking in his universe btw

[gobidragon-67]

More Bertie crumbs from X.

How do I explain to people that this DILF is one of the hottest men I've ever seen. Look at his eccentric glasses!

Photos from AlessiaCrawley on X

[ladyoverlord95]

https://www.instagram.com/reel/DaXYF1Mld40/?igsh=MWZsaHNmYWZycnYzbw==

MORE BERTIE CRUMBS!

That mullet looks so good on him! His salt and pepper hairrrrr!!!!

Thanks for sharing this 🥰

[gobidragon-67]

Legs crossed, deep in the thought...10/10

[ravenreads1]

Bertie and Sally in Remini today

Video by @AleandoraS on X

[gobidragon-67]

This clip of them holding hands and then her taking his arm is straight out of my AO3 story. Like, I'm absolutely delusional.

LOOK HOW HOT HE LOOKS!

BAELOR LIVES!

[gobidragon-67]

Desserts I'd bake for each man of A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms

Because I can't stop thinking about being domestic for Baelor. I MISS YOU, MY KING!

Baelor

Classic Cherry Pie - This sweet and tart pie is the perfect compliment to his personality. He devours every slice, all while showering you praise. Of course I'd bake him a 🍒 pie..wink wink nudge nudge. #Bae

Valarr

Classic Italian hazelnut cake - Easy to make but you'd never let him know. He thinks you slaved away all day. He often shared it with his friends and bragged about your baking.

Maekar

Raspberry Coconut Cake - He would NEVER let anyone know his favorite dessert was so fancy. You once forgot to add the raspberry swirls on top and he never let you forget it. You have to stop him from eating several slices in a single sitting.

Lyonel

Churros - This man loves to party and nothing says party like fried dough. He likes them hot, fresh and sprinkled with the finiest cinnamon and sugar. Lewd jokes on their shapes are prime for the course.

Dunk

Dot Cake - He finds these cakes to be the fanciest things he's ever encountered. "Crunchy, sweet and fun to eat!"

Aerion

Chocolate tart - Rich and time intensive to make but he doesn't care. It's too sweet to eat a lot but he savors every bite as he looks you in the eyes. Turns out baking this was well worth the effort 😉

Daeron

Rum cake - The cake itself was moist without the addition of all the rum but he always requested more. One slice would make you tipsy. Sometimes the cake was the only thing he ate all day.

[grettski]

Diva down, rest in peace Simon Strong.

[ethelcainssdaughter]

[gobidragon-67]

This and baking Baelor Targaryen whatever the fuck he wants.

[ravenreads1]

Bertie Carvel as King Leontes in William Shakespeare's The Winter's Tale

The Royal Shakespeare Company, 2025

[gobidragon-67]

The first two GIFS have me mesmerized. 🧎‍♀️