Simon is impossibly deep inside of your warm, wet pussy, thrusting so hard you scoot up the bed as he knocks the air from the lungs while the headboard bangs against the wall. A pillow is strategically placed under your hips so every time he slams inside of you it hits your sweet spot, and your clit catches on the wet material without fail. Your nipples drag across the soft fabric beneath you, your hands clutching at the pillows in front of you, all while you’re being fucked dumb.
“Fuckin’ slut. Wish you could see the way your pussy sucks me in,” he growls, his grip on you turning punishing, his face never faltering as he continues to drill into you from behind.
His fingers are tangled in your hair, yanking on it hard and keeping your head in place so your moans aren’t muffled against the mattress. His other hand is wrapped around your throat, cutting off your airway just enough to make it more pleasurable as your choked sobs ring out around the room.
His thick, long cock slides through your walls as he molds your pussy to be perfect for him. The veins and ridges leave imprints the faster he thrusts, the deeper he reaches, the harder he grinds. Every knock to your cervix leaves you breathless, every brush against your sweet spot has pleasure shooting through your body, and the longer he abuses your poor pussy, the more you beg for it.
“P-please Si, please,” you manage to say, gripping onto the sheets for dear life, lifting your hips to meet his every thrust but trying to run from it all at the same time.
Simon fucks you harder, the sound of your sweet voice begging for him enough to bring him to the brink of his orgasm, but not until you unravel on him for the umpteenth time tonight. His hand smacks down against your ass, your skin burning raw immediately, and he yanks your hair so hard that stars burst behind your eyelids.
“Please what? Be a good girl and use your fuckin’ words,” he says through gritted teeth, biting back an obscene moan that wishes to fall from his swollen lips.
His fingers press into the delicate skin of your neck, your pulse fluttering around his thumb, and the adrenaline of knowing that you’re at his mercy makes your walls clamp down tight around him, earning you a hiss from the man behind you. When you don’t respond in what he deems as a timely manner, his hand strikes your ass again, harder this time, but somewhere in this moment he still feels guilty for it when his thumb brushes over the scorching skin to soothe you.
“More, p-please Si,” you continue to beg, completely consumed by the feeling of his cock inside you, bullying your insides with no pity.
His hand moves from your throat to the pillow in front of you as he steadies himself. Leaning over your back, his cock pressed against your cervix with the utmost amount of pressure, he positions himself to watch your face while he fucks into you like a rabid animal as if he has no compassion or love for the woman under him what-so-ever.
You know he would apologize after. Apologize for being rough, apologize for saying mean things, apologize for acting as if he has no respect for you, but it makes your pussy so fucking wet all you can do is beg for him to be meaner.
“Yeah? Beg for it. Look at me and beg me to make you cum, beg me to make you feel good slut.”
Your gaze lifts to his, and the way his pupils dilate from the sight of you so undone solely because of him has a groan rumbling out from the depths of his chest. Drool drips from your chin while your mouth hangs open ever so slightly. Your eyes are half-lidded and dazed with tears staining your cheeks, your lips swollen and pigmented, and he watches how every single time his cock thrusts until there’s no more space inside you the air from your lungs comes in short, ragged gasps that sound like music to his ears.
“Make me c-cum Si- f-fuck- make me f-feel good, p-please,” you stutter, tripping over every other word, trying your hardest to form sentences coherent enough to beg for it like he asked.
He growls, deep and low, animalist almost, and he shoves your face into the pillow while spreading your cheeks with his other hand to watch your pussy swallow him whole. He fucks you, deep and hard and fast, it is almost too much. Your juices leak out around his cock, coating his length of your arousal, and he watches how tight you get the closer your orgasm gets.
“Do it,” he says, the words coming out strained, “cum on my fucking dick then since you beg so pretty.”
Every movement of his hips is hitting a spot inside of you that bursts into pleasure. Your cervix, your sweet spot, your nipples drag against the sheets until they’re hard and sore, your clit grinding against the pillow beneath you until it all pushes you over the edge. Your body becomes rigid, your muscles draw taut, and your screaming sobs fill the room, and no other sounds can be heard.
“I’m c-cumming-“
“Who makes you feel this good? Who do you belong to,” he asks, fucking you harder, fucking you through your orgasm, fucking you into overstimulation, waiting for the words to fall from your pretty, swollen lips before he allows himself the same release.
“You! F-fuck it’s always you Si,” you whimper, your body twitching from your walls being rubbed raw, from your clit grinding against every last nerve, from your nipples peaking beyond belief.
With a few more thrusts and a guttural groan ripping from his throat, Simon buries himself to the hilt, spilling his seed into the deepest parts of you. Long, thick ropes of warm cum flood your pussy, spurting out against your cervix with every twitch of his cock, coating your walls in all he has to give as the man behind you stills while he fills you to the brim. When nothing else will fit it leaks out around him, your cum mixing with his, making a mess between your thighs and spreading against the sheets.
“Fuck,” he groans, collapsing on top of you, trying his hardest to catch his breath.
His face is buried between your shoulder blades, his warm breath hitting your skin and sending shivers down your spine, his hands moving from their previous positions to caress up your sides as if asking for forgiveness through touch before asking verbally. He kisses against your spine, all the way down to your ass where he licks the raw handprint burning against your skin, and when he reaches your pussy, he licks up the mess before flipping you over with ease.
He hovers above you, wiping a stray tear before placing a feather light kiss to your lips. Admiring you, he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, watching the way you give him the softest yet brightest smile he has ever seen, and he can’t help but cover your face in the same kisses.
“You’re not a slut, and you never have to beg for me…,” he mumbles in between kisses, and before he can keep rambling on you pull him down until your forehead is pressed against his.
“If you say sorry… I swear Simon.”
He laughs softly, “I know, I know. I’m sorry- shit- sorry. Fuck. I’ll just stop talking now, yeah?”
your husband lifts his gaze slowly from the newspaper he was reading.
"fun?" he indulges you, tilting his head slightly to search your face. you suggested something without a description intentionally to make him ask for an elaboration, meaning what you're about to tell him will either be very intriguing, or the complete opposite. he searches your features in an attempt to determine which it'll be. "what kind of fun?"
you pause to make him squirm in anticipation. "i was thinking," you murmur, tracing your finger along the couch's lines with your fingertip, a sign of nervousness. "we could try… being available to each other. like whenever one of us wants-" your face goes warm, "sex."
the newspaper lowers down to his lap so your husband can stare at you intently, but he doesn't move otherwise. he's seated with his sleeves pushed up to his elbows and his legs apart in a lazy manspread, looking way too composed for what you just suggested. your body is so tense right now that you feel the urge to take a cold shower before the conversation continues. why isn't he saying anything?
"available," he echoes your choice of words. "as in free use."
you nod, trying not to squirm in your seat. "mhm."
he hums, tongue running over the inside of his cheek, and his eyes drag over your body as if he's already imagining all the different ways he can catch you off guard and ruin you. just as you suggested.
"sweetheart," he murmurs quietly, folding the paper and setting it aside, "do you even know what you're agreeing to?"
you shrug, a guileless glint in your wide eyes. you couldn't seriously be asking him this. you, who cries within the first ten minutes of him fucking you and tries to crawl away from him when he's pounding into you, wants to be free use for him, constantly? "i trust you. there... shouldn't be any issues."
he leans back in his chair and lets a silence pass once more. he seems to be considering it. the longer he goes without talking the more you squirm. he lays a cheek in his palm, and continues. "and why do you want to be free use for me?"
your eyes widen and your lips press together. you're nervous but trying not to show it. "it's not just me, you know. both of us are available for each other. i just wanted to suggest it because it's been on my mind a while."
"mm. no other reason?"
you hesitate a second too long, and he notices immediately. his eyes narrow ever so slightly. "well," you fidget, toying with a thread on your shirt to break eye contact just long enough so you don't explode. "i just thought it might be exciting."
"exciting... how?"
you puff out a soft breath and try to play it off. "i dunno… like, getting dragged into a public washroom while we're out grocery shopping. or, like… in the car. pulling it over so we can go to the backseat. or while i'm doing laundry."
"so you mean you want me to be so desperate i can't wait and have to have you. right then, right there."
you fidget again, but nod. "mhm."
he laughs once under his breath. "that's cute. so if you're half asleep," he says, "and i want to wake you up with my cock inside you, you won't mind? or if we're on a hike and you're in one of those pairs of leggings i really like, i can put you up against a tree?"
you nod, but look away bashfully. "i said whenever."
he hums and looks away for a moment in an attempt to stay calm while he processes. then he looks back at you, tutting with a pitying look on his face. like you're a lamb up for the slaughter.
"you don't know what you just agreed to," he says affectionately, like he's sorry for you.
you frown, feeling like he's underestimating you. "yes, i do."
he smiles. "you really don't."
-
the first time he tries out your new agreement is when you're brushing your teeth with him the next morning. you're standing at the sink in just one of his old t-shirts, groggy, hair messy, toothbrush hanging from the corner of your mouth as you blink blearily at your own reflection. he's behind you, pretending to brush his teeth too, but he's just looking at you.
your thighs are bare. the shirt rides up when you lean forward to spit into the sink, and he can see the crease where the back of your thighs meet your plush ass. he's entranced by the quiet way you operate when you're still half asleep and unaware of how good you look.
he swishes some water in his mouth and spits, setting his toothbrush back in the holder while watching you. you didn't notice he was ogling until you look up to meet his gaze in the mirror reflection to see him reaching around to pull you flush against his chest, lifting his hands under your shirt from behind to cup your tits. you don't wear a bra around the house, much to his convenience.
"just trying something fun," he murmurs into the curve of your neck, kissing the soft skin there. you tip your head a little, a pleasant feeling washing over your body as his thumbs roll over your perked nipples. he then wraps his hand around your throat to tip your head back. "aren't you so pretty?" he coos, one hand toying with your breast while the other gives your throat a light squeeze. it does nothing for your sanity. your brain might as well be slipping out of your ears.
you try to respond, but all that slips out is a helpless little whimper, the toothbrush still dangling from your lips.
"you're already shaking," he says softly, letting go of your throat only to glide his hand down the front of your shirt, past your navel, and into the waistband of your thin cotton panties. "and it's not even been a minute since i started. why're you acting like some helpless little virgin?"
you slip the toothbrush out of your mouth and drop it in the holder, using both hands to hold his wrist to keep yourself steady. "you're being mean," you breathe, embarrassed by how quickly he's unraveled you.
he hums, slipping his fingers inside your tight pussy to find you warm and wet. your hips jolt, but you don't move away. "i'm doing what you asked of me," he corrects you, his tone patient. "you said 'whenever,' remember?" he begins to lift up your shirt and tosses it onto the counter beside you, and your panties come off right after. then he pushes you forward so you're bent over onto the smooth marble in front of you.
he leans over your back, palm pressing down gently between your shoulder blades to keep you in place. "you know what your problem is," he murmurs, breath hot against your ear, "you get way too ahead of yourself. then you ask for things you're not ready for."
"baby please," you whine, grinding your hips back, only for him to pull away. he's teasing you. you look back at him with frustration, wanting friction against your sopping core, but he's not allowing it.
you feel him hook a hand under your knee to prop your leg up on the edge of the sink for a better angle, and he tuts at how messy your little pussy is so soon. he spreads you as much as you can go, then nudges his clothed bulge against your core, listening to your breath hitch and breathy pants to leave your mouth. "hmmh... that spot... do that again,"
he hushes you patronizingly, tugging his pj pants just low enough for his cock to be free. you're completely bare in contrast. with a hand pinning you down and the blunt press of his cock between your thighs, he slowly, maddeningly starts to slip it inside with a purposeful roll of his hips, and the stretch immediately hits you. you feel so full with just the first few inches of his fat cock in you.
your mouth opens around a silent moan, eyes rolling back. your grip on the counter tightens while he rocks into you steadily, holding you firmly while his gaze flits from your hole sucking him in and the lewd look on your face in the mirror.
"you wanted this. look at yourself. look how pretty you are when you're being used."
you try. you really do. your eyes flutter open just long enough to catch sight of your own flushed, wrecked reflection, your hair a mess, mouth parted, as he slowly fills you up to the brink, tip kissing your womb. his hand gathers a fistful of your hair to tip your head up.
your head spins as he thrusts into you roughly, flesh slapping against flesh making nasty sounds that echo off the bathroom walls. "y-you're... haaa gonna be late f'work," you moan as he fucks into you deep and rough, his thick cock curving just right inside you to keep bumping against your sweet spots.
"shit... y'wanna talk about that now?" he tugs your hair a little to make you squeal, using it to keep you in place like it's a handle. "i'll grab breakfast on the way there," he says into your skin. "this is more important."
you reach behind blindly because you're desperate to feel your husband or hold him, but he pushes you back down, then leans down to push his chest flush against your back, his skin hot against yours. he nudges his cock deeper in you at the new angle, moving a bulky arm to wrap around your neck and fuck you in a chokehold.
he groans against your ear, rutting harder now, his rhythm starting to lose control while your back arches for him, trying to take more even though you're so full. his hips snap forward with more force and he chuckles into your ear when you let out a garbled, " 'm gonna cum..." followed by a loud mewl. he groans, slamming into that one spot that gets you to tighten up around him each time his mushroom tip gives it a kiss.
"hmm, ask nicely, sweetheart," he nips your ear and bottoms out with an obscenely wet squelch. "mmmm.... c-can i... fuck, c-cum? please, 'm gonna..." your eyes screw shut and your pussy gushes around his thick shaft, leaving your thighs slick and shaky.
he slams into you one last time, burying himself deep inside you so his cum can shoot as deep inside you as he can. he doesn't pull out right away. arms wrapped around your middle, nose pressed into your hair like he's anchoring himself.
"god," he mumbles, still pumping you full, and there's now a creamy ring where his cock enters your cunt. "filled your little pussy all up, didn't i? now i'll feel bad leaving you like this."
you're too wrecked to answer, slumped forward against the sink, letting him hold you up. he reaches for a washcloth by the towel rack and dampens it so he can clean you up, giving you little kisses the whole time while you cling onto him. he keeps praising you, too. "did s'good for me, pretty baby."
he leaves you with a soft peck on your cheek. "ill see you later tonight..."
-
it doesn't stop after that morning in the bathroom. that was just his warm up, after all; his first taste of what you gave him. the second the floodgates opened, there was no closing them. poor you.
there's the time in the gym changeroom, right after your shared workout ends. you're both sore and sweaty, and you duck into the locker room so you can grab your stuff and head home with him to shower. however, the second he sees your flushed skin and damp chest through your sports bra, he doesn't hesitate to tug you into one of the showers and sit down on the bench, tearing off your clothes and tugging you into his lap.
he'll stuff your panties in your mouth so your moans are muffled, and fucks up into you hard and fast with no shame, even as he hears people talking and shuffling about behind the flimsy shower curtain. "you're gonna make a mess on me, aren't you?" he murmurs against your ear. "you like knowing someone could walk in right now and see you like this? my sweet girl, cockdrunk in a gym shower?"
he makes you cum on his cock, stuffs you full of his seed and leaves with you once the coast is mostly clear.
next was the hike. you're halfway up the steep trail with him, on a quick break on the grass off the main path. you'd just bent over a little to re-tie your laces since your boots had been far too tight, when he'd come up behind you, grinding against you and palming your ass through your leggings in broad daylight.
"shouldn't bend over in front of me unless you want me to do somethin' to you," he mutters, voice low and warm at your ear as he presses himself closer, fingers kneading into the backs of your thighs.
he doesn't give you a second to argue before he's guiding you face first to a tree and dropping to his knees. he pulls your leggings down just enough to get what he wants, and the air hits your slick folds pleasantly. you whimper, bracing yourself as he spreads your ass to have your pussy fully presented to him.
"gonna be quick," he whispers, "just a little taste." he mumbles, before shoving his face right into your cunt.
you gasp loudly and your hands shoot up to brace against the tree bark right in front of you and dig into the wood. you tremble and let out a shaky breath when he licks a slow, nasty stripe from your pussy up to your clit, shaking his tongue a little so it slobbers over every inch of your drooling pussy lips, occasionally prodding your hole.
his hands are firm on your thighs to spread you open wider, dragging your hips back toward his mouth while he eats you out filthy and sloppy. his nose nudges your clit, tongue flicking in and out of you, then slipping deep inside.
you bite your lip and your eyes, wide and panicked, glance toward the trail. anyone could walk by since you're not that far off the path, hidden, but not well. if someone wandered off long enough, they'd find the two of you.
"god," he moans into you, closing his mouth around your pussy lips and sucking gently, then going back to make out with your pussy. "taste so fuckin' good, babe. made for me." your orgasm hits so fast that you barely have time to warn him, pushing back against him so you cream right into his mouth.
-
you intended to have one wholesome weekend without your man ravaging you on any available surface in the vicinity. a family gathering that your parents are hosting. you enter the countryside house with your husband's hand on the small of your back to guide you inside, smiling politely as your relatives greet you both with warm hugs and laughter. everyone is in a good mood, sipping drinks, chewing on appetizers. there's music playing, and scents drifting from the kitchen.
he lasts about twenty minutes into the evening before he leans down to whisper filth into your ear while everyone else is distracted in the dining room. "you keep looking up at me like that and you're not leaving this place without my cum dripping down your thighs."
you stiffen, body heating up with arousal instantly, even as your face stays composed for the sake of your family standing two feet away. your husband knows exactly what he's doing. he brushes his lips just under your ear again, letting his breath brush over your skin while his palm subtly slides down to squeeze your ass through your dress, making you yelp.
he's all over you most of the evening. hands holding your hips from behind, cupping your ass, arms around your waist, smelling your hair... blatant public displays of affection. he keeps whispering things. "you're dripping through this dress," he murmurs while you're getting drinks in the kitchen. "do you even know what you look like right now?"
you try to push him away, but he's already behind you, brushing your hair over your shoulder as if he's helping, just to kiss the back of your neck. he's all over you right up until you take a break to get away from the party for a bit before dinner. you choose your childhood bedroom as an escape, needing one second away from him before he decides to finger you at the dinner table or fuck you in one of the bathrooms, but he follows you shortly after.
you just entered your old room, not realizing the door didn't click shut behind you. you make it two steps before he grabs you and pins you down onto your back in your old twin bed.
you jolt. "baby! where did you- what are you- "
"shhh," he murmurs, lips already brushing your neck. "just missed you. five minutes."
your body reacts before your brain can catch up. you tip your head to the side for him, breath catching as he kisses behind your ear and tugs the straps of your dress down your shoulders and pushing it under your tits so he can cup your bare mounds. his thumbs brush over your nipples until they stiffen under his touch, and he groans at your soft whines, pinching and rubbing them with his fingers while he kisses down to your chest, laving his tongue over the swollen peaks. he's practically slobbering on them, one bulky hand playing with one while his mouth works on the other, sucking sharply and then releasing with a wet pop.
he drags your panties down and off your ankles, spreading you into a shameful position to get a good look at you.
"fuck, look at this mess," he thumbs over your pussy with light pressure, teasing you. "this for me?" you whimper a soft yes, causing him to chuckle softly. he leans over you again, playing with your hole while his other hand wraps around his cock to stroke it slow and firm from tip to base, aligning himself with your hole. he doesn't make it easy for you and put it in straight away, instead tapping his cock against your folds and listening to the nasty little squelches that come from you. he slides it up and down, delaying your pleasure to make you desperate.
you gasp and mewl, thighs already lifting for him as he lines up and starts to press in slowly. your body clutches around him immediately, the stretch making your head spin. "ohhh my- fuck," he groans, pushing in all the way until he bottoms out. "tight as ever. made to be fucked in."
you moan breathlessly and tip your head back, letting him start to plow into you. he doesn't waste any time in putting one leg up over his shoulder and thrusting so deep that his balls squish against the curve of your ass and his shaft forms a faint print in your belly from how huge he is. your head lolls back with each of his deep, grinding strokes.
"look at you," he whispers, eyes trained on your filthy expression. "getting ruined in your childhood room. all the innocent memories, corrupted by this one." he mocks you while fucking into you harder. you moan loudly, hands fisting at the sheets, then clawing his biceps, then running down his torso. you have no idea what to do with yourself right now. he's fucking you into oblivion and now you're completely out of it.
"bet your parents think you're still their good little girl," he pants, rocking into you, stretching you out with his fat shaft with every drag. you can feel every vein and the exact angle in which his cock curves inside you. "they don't know you're upstairs getting your pussy wrecked like this."
"please what?" he taunts, slowing his thrusts to an unbearable pace. "please fuck me harder?" he punctuates the question with a sharp thrust so deep inside you your vision swims. "or please fill me up in my little princess bed?" he coos, grinding his pelvis against yours. your mouth falls open in a silent scream as a particularly deep thrust hits your sweet spot, sending sparks of pleasure racing up your spine while your back arches off the bed, pressing your heaving tits more firmly against his chest. you can basically feel his heartbeat against yours, thudding in time with his sloppy thrusts.
" 'm gonna cum inside you," he grits, pounding into you hard, cock scraping against your plushy walls and the head of his cock kissing your cervix with every inward thrust. "goddamn, look at me. want you to -haa- remember this." your nails scrape his back. you're crying out softly, trying to stay quiet, but you're so close. you clamp down on him so hard when it hits that he chokes on a groan, hips stuttering as he starts spilling into you with a harsh jerk of his body.
his cock jerks and pulses as he hilts inside you, the thick head flaring inside you as he releases ropes of hot cum pumps into your greedy cunt, your womb quickly filling to the brim.
within seconds, excess semen is already bubbling out around his shaft, dripping down onto the sheets beneath your ass. your pussy clenches and ripples, desperately trying to milk every last drop of him, and he continues rocking his cock inside you as he cums, fingers moving to play with your clit, and you cum shortly after, gushing around his cock and adding to the mess on the bed.
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content: The Tourney was suppose to be a fun time to relax until your husband lost the two children he was in charge of.
words: 2.5k
cw: MDNI 18+ p in v, fingering, cockwarming, a pussy slap, slapping, pussy pronouns, breeding (shocker), OOC Aerion (he is better behaved as Maekar is not a single mom)
a/n: this was originally just going to be them hooking up at tourneys, but I decided to make them married for the plot. I lokwey might do an origin story if anyone is interested lol.
You were not sure what had possessed you to want to visit home, but that slowly died after spending a whole day with your mother, but the girls seemed to be having a fun time being closer to the water, while Aerion sulked as he had lost another round of sword play to his uncle.
“You are brooding. You look like your damn dragon,” your brother muttered from beside you, causing you to roll your eyes.
“He has been your good-brother this long and you still cannot say his name,” you countered, raising a brow.
Lyonel laughed with a shake of his head, “It does not change the fact that he is a miserable bastard.”
You could still remember Lyonel’s bitter reaction when you had declared you were going to wed Prince Maekar. You were hardly a woman grown in love for the first and had declared to your father that if he denied the match when it was proposed you would burn down Storm’s End
You lifted your knife that you had previously used to cut your meat now flashed before his face, causing him to scoot back slightly, “Watch yourself,” you warned.
“I see where, Aerion, gets it from,” he then muttered, looking away from you toward your second whose face mirrored your own as he picked away at his supper.
“Mama,” a small voice called out.
You turned looking toward Rhae who sat across from you, “Yes?” you asked, your face transforming to one of a softer expression within a moment.
“When are we leaving to go see kepa?”
As if you could hear her thoughts your head snapped down to the end of the table glaring at your mother. She had been even less pleased than your brother when marrying a Targaryen and it now showed more than ever especially watching her interact with your children.
Lyonel, at least, loved his nieces and nephews. Your mother was a different story. You made a mental reminder to make Lyonel visit you at Summerhall next time he was missing you.
Aerion’s eyes drifted down to his grandmother holding her gaze as if he himself was warning her not to start with his mother. “On the morrow,” you told her. “Why don’t you three go get ready for bed. We will have an early start. I will be right in,” you told them with a smile.
The three eventually went off to bed, the eldest of them the most reluctant, but went nonetheless. You turned looking to your brother, “Next time you are coming to Summerhall so I do have to deal with the looks or the comments about my silver haired brood,” you declared loudly pushing yourself to your feet.
You ignored your mother’s voice, but it was easy to ignore as it mixed with your brother’s loud laughter. Your father simply sat at the table with a sigh, “You are the reason she hardly comes around,” he muttered to his wife.
Your eyes moved from your good-brother to your husband, “You lost our sons? You were in charge of two children and you lost them both?” You stood in front of the long table where they sat Lord Ashford having excused himself at your arrival being half terrified to hear how you took the news of your missing sons.
Maekar rolled his eyes, muttered something under his breath which only caused you to raise a brow, “Is that not what you did? We have six children. One is at the Citadel, three were with me, and two with you. Where are you two, Maekar?”
Baelor let out a small chuckle pressing his hand to his mouth as if trying to hide his betrayal, but his younger brother had already heard him long and clear. “Tell her why Daeron ran off.”
Your eyes snapped to the elder then slowly turned to your husband, “Why did they run off, Maekar?”
The man opened his mouth and closed it again. You let out a sigh, your hand moved, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Come,” you beckoned, turning out of the hall.
You did not have to turn to know he was following you, even if you could not hear his boots against the ground you knew he would have followed after you.
At the last minute he moved ahead of you, opening the door and allowing you to enter inside the provider chamber. Your eyes scanned the room, it was nowhere near as grand as the one at Summerhall, but it was rather large.
You moved toward the table at the far side pouring the wine in the flagon into two respective chalices. “Why did Daeron run off?” you asked once more.
He moved to sit in one of the chairs as you settled in the other. “He was going to enter the lists.”
“Oh, Maekar," you groaned in frustration.
“He is a man grown, it is expected of him!” he argued.
You rolled your eyes, “He is not Aerion nor is he you. The sooner you come to that realization the happier our lives can be.”
He sighed, but argued no further. “I am glad you are here. I have missed you,” he whispered quietly as if it would bring shame to admit it.
“Cannot hear you,” you teased, raising a brow.
His jaw clenched, “I am glad you are here. I have missed you,” he said louder this time.
You hummed, downing the rest of your wine as you stood to your feet making your way over to him. His legs parted for you like they had done thousands of times before as you looked down at him.
Your hands moved cupping either side of his face forcing him to look up. The hair of his beard rubbed against your palms. His violet eyes flickered over your face, as his hardened features visibly softened now that you were alone.
“I have missed you too,” you confessed, leaning down to press your lips to his.
It was chaste and it caused him to chase after you as you pulled away staring down at him. He groaned in displeasure before his hand trailed up gripping your ass and forcing you down onto his lap.
This time when his lips met yours it was anything, but chate. A hunger clash of teeth as you both tried to convert your overwhelming need for the other into it. It had been long. Too long without the other, and it always made the reunion just that much sweeter.
You pulled away once your lungs begged for more air than you were currently providing them with, “You are getting soft on me, husband,” you teased, your hands interlaced through his silver locks giving it a harsh tug.
“Shut your mouth,” he grunted, his own mouth pressing open mouth kisses down your throat.
“Make me.”
He grinned pulling the strings before you were being forced onto your feet, “Take your dress off,” he instructed.
You did as you were told, allowing the black fabric to pool at your feet. Maekar had finally freed his cock, by the time you were bare before him moving forward as you straddled him once more. The chair groaned under your combined weight, but neither of you truly cared.
Your mouth reconnected with his as his large hands moved. You rose up onto your
He drew his hand back giving your cunt a harsh slap, causing you to shoot forward your head to rest on his shoulder, “Not running your mouth now,” he muttered.
You leaned back, your hand raising to connect with his face the same way he had just done to your womanhood. His head snapped to the side before slowly turning back to you, a wide grin on his lips.
“She is soaked,” he whispered, his mouth moving to nip at your neck as he entered a digit into your drooling hole with ease. You hummed your head tilting back as you let out a loud moaning as his thumb rubbed a circle on your clit.
“She might already be ready to take me,” he said, slipping another finger into you.
You nodded, “I told you..I’ve missed you,” you told him, grinding yourself down against his hand.
He nodded in agreement withdrawing his finger, giving his cock a lazy few strokes as you hovered over him. He notched himself at your hole holding your eye contact as you slowly sunk down on him, taking him inch by inch.
He sat back waiting for you to begin to fuck yourself onto him, but you did not budge. You sat there staring at him, “Move,” he grunted.
“No. You lost our sons,” you told him. He groaned your name as if it was painful, but you still did not move. “Why should I move? Plead your case.”
“You are my wife and I have missed you so I order you to move.”
“Missed me or my cunt?”
“Both,” he confessed, trying to get you to move but you fought against him staying still.
“You lost our sons,” you pointed out.
“I will find them,” he promised.
That was good enough for you, allowing you to finally give him moving your hips against his. His mouth moved forward latching around your hardened peak of your breast, “Maekar,” you moaned, your nails digging into the pale skin of his shoulder.
“Missed you,” he muttered, as he dragged his tongue across the valley of your breast turning to get the other side the same attention as the first. You grinded your hips down into him quickly, your clit rubbing against the coarse hair at his base causing you to already feel the coil in your belly quickly building.
“She’s taking me so well.”
You only groaned in response, your nails digging further into him. His hands dug into your hip bones no doubt going to leave bruises in his wake, painting your skin with the reminder of him.
“You’re close already,” he observed, feeling the way you kept fluttering around him, the loud cry of his name being the only thing you could truly say.
You nodded eagerly, fucking yourself into him harder trying to achieve the ecstasy of relief, “Be a good girl and finish on your husband’s cock,” he instructed, continung to lap and suck at your hardened nub.
“Oh, fuck,” you groaned when the coil in your belly finally snapped.
You went boneless in his embrace moving forward. Maekar continued to fuck you through your high as he chased his own release, “Gonna fill you,” he told you, as he thrusted up into you quickly.
“Give me another, babe, husband," you muttered, and that was his undoing as buried himself to the hilt, the long ropes of cum shooting out filling you with him for the first time in what felt like forever.
Your ragged breaths filled the room as your flesh pressed against the other, his heat radiating off him as if he was your own personal fire. You were still slumped against his shoulder, as you pressed a kiss to his sweat slickened skin, “Oh, my dragon I have missed you,” you coed.
He grunted in response, pressing a kiss to the crown of his head, “Don’t leave that long again.”
“I can’t. You lose our children in your absence.”
The Baratheon tent was chaotic as always as your second son and yourself sat at the high table glancing around. You let out a sigh debating making your way back to the castle to await your husband’s return when you finally noticed a small boy next to an overly large man. Though his head was shaved you would have recognized that face anywhere.
“Aerion?” you asked, tilting your head toward the young man. He hummed in response turning toward you, “Is that your brother or are the fumes of stench finally getting to me.”
His head turned following your extended hand, and you watched his eyes instantly widen. “That’s what I thought,” you muttered, pushing yourself to your feet.
You made your way through the tent, men alike moving out of the way averting their eyes as if they were scared to make eye contact with you, but you did not care your gaze was set on your missing son.
The boy immediately looked toward the large knight hoping to his feet as he urged his companion to do the same and was almost successfully able to make a break for it before, “Aegon!” was called out loudly.
Your brother who had heard the commotion slowly approached eyes flickering between his sister and his new companion, “What is going on?” he asked, but you ignored him, eyes trained on the bald boy.
Egg paused for a moment and you could tell he was debating ignoring you like he did when he was caught doing something he should not have been. “If you run you will stay with your uncle for two moons,” causing him to turn toward you slowly.
The large man turned from you to the boy at his side, “M’Lady?” he questioned, as if you had gone crazy.
Your son looked at you with a sheepish smile that caused your head to spin. You quickly turned to your brother, “How many times has been in this tent?” you asked. Lyonel scratched the back of his neck, avoiding your eyes. “Your missing nephew was in your tent and you did not notice him!” you hissed, driving your finger into his chest.
The hedge knight’s eyes widened, glancing from the Baratheon siblings to the boy at his side, “Nephew…That means,” he slowly started to put the pieces together.
“That you have had Prince Maekar and my darling sister’s missing son, my dear friend,” Lyonel laughed moving toward the hedge knight as he kept his eyes on you as if he were afraid you were going to strike him.
“I am so sorry, M”lady I had no idea!”
The Baratheon man smirked, “Well now that is all sorted out you can take dear Aegon back to the castle and I will fill in Ser Duncan.”
You rolled your eyes, “Nope. The hedge knight is mine now, brother,” you muttered, shaking your head. “Come along. Ser…?”
“Duncan,” Egg supplied.
“Ser Duncan. Mayhaps one of you can inform me where the hell my eldest son has taken off too,” you muttered, shaking your head.
You went to move toward the exit when you felt a small hand wrap around yours causing you to look down, “I am sorry I ran off, but I lied to Ser Duncan, and he does not deserve to get in trouble.”
“Oh, good, because Ser Duncan is not going to get in trouble for keeping you alive. You are going to get in trouble for lying to the poor knight and running off.”
Aegon in the moment wasn’t sure which was going to be worse his father’s fiery temper or his mother’s fury.
synopsis: A garden dinner was a rare occasion at Summerhall estate, either several of the children would be misbehaving usually resulting in one or two being sent to bed, or the weather would not allow for such outdoor activities. However on this occasion for Daeron’s nameday everything was running smoothly, until Aerion seemingly could not hold his tongue.
[based off of this amazing anon request]
word count: 5,588
warnings: 18+ mdni, female reader, no use of Y/N, readers looks are un-described (aside from being of House Dayne + having hair), teenage Aerion (you’ve been warned), a lot of the maekarlings, probably a lot of age inaccuracies for the kids but it works, SMUT (eventually), p in v, oral (f!receiving), fingering, (slight) breeding kink, woman + wife as terms of endearment, fluff (honestly quite a lot), kind of angst but not really. reader is a legal adult) REMEMBER - YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR THE CONTENT AND MEDIA YOU CHOOSE TO CONSUME
DISCLAIMER: All themes, plot, images used in general and characters from A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms + elsewhere belong to the rightful owners, I hold no rights to the original media - but my writing belongs to me.
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Little Rhae, scarcely half a year old, sat in your lap as you dined. Your husband, Maekar, and remaining five children sat scattered around the large outdoor dining table as you for once sat in a tranquil calm amongst the soon to be setting sun. A contented smile lingered on your face as you observed your family, the one that you had built with nothing but raw determination and a jealous husband.
You yourself were in your mid thirties. Scarcely. It was a fact that Maekar was subtly insecure about, he was older than you, that was no secret. Yet you had chosen him as your husband out of love not duty, you had chosen that old man and you loved him regardless of others opinions. Your eldest son that the pair of you shared, Daeron, was now seventeen, his nameday now here and a quiet celebration much to the King’s annoyance. He had wanted a grand affair to show his eldest grandson off to the women of the court, hoping to stake an alliance through marriage. Daeron however, had begged and pleaded practically on his knees for his seventeenth nameday to be a quiet affair. We should not even travel to Kings Landing, there is no need. He had said, his sad eyes boring into your own, tears welled in them. And you had caved, in turn pleading to Maekar not to force your son to suffer the event. Not that Maekar took much convincing, travelling to Kings Landing with a small army of children was no easy feat, and one he’d rather not do by dragging the boy of the hour against his will for something he did not care for. So you had remained in Summerhall, sharing a night in the gardens eating cake and watching your children tumble around in the grass.
“Were you content with your gifts, dearest?” You questioned, eyes falling onto your eldest son as he ate the rare meat from his plate. “Yes, thank you Mother.” He smiled. He looked tired, but then again he always did. He had the look of lacking sleep almost always present in his eyes and it pained you to know that was something you could not ease him of. Yet you smiled warmly in return, squeezing his hand gently. You loved all your children dearly, but Daeron would always hold a special place to you regardless of how he turned out because he was your first child. The boy who had been the start to your family, back then you were just three. Now, you were eight.
“Seeing as you are old now, brother.” Aerion begun, you watched as almost all of your children and your husband showed at least some sign of distain at the tone of Aerion’s voice, yet you offered him kind eyes as you cut in, “Your brother is not old, Aerion. Be kind.” Aerion huffed lightly, the boy was fourteen, the size of a twelve year old with the pent up energy of a dog that had spent its entire life in a kennel. The attitude that came out of his mouth more often than not was obscene and he seemed to lack the understanding of watching his words, more-so adopting the mentality of speak now, consequences later. And seemingly for the pale haired boy his tongue always found him consequences later. “Should you not be betrothed already? Mother married Father a year earlier than your age.” Daeron sighed. It was no secret the boy lacked betrothal options, in part due to his lack of presence in court and the fact he chose to hide himself away entirely when in Kings Landing. He had done it to himself, he knew, yet he did not wish for some poor girl to have to put up with the secret state that he was. “Darling, your brother will choose his own path in his own time, as will you. You have expressed not wishing for a wife yourself, instead being a great dragon riding to battle and we have not judged your decision.” Your kindness came with ease towards Aerion, the boy was internally hot like a furnace and the anger that bestowed upon him for seemingly no given reason meant he did not often see kindness from anyone but you. Yes he was a little shit, as Maekar liked to put it, but he was not evil. He was your boy, and like Daeron you would love him regardless. Aerion scoffed, flinging a potato in Aemon’s direction, earning him a swat on the arm from his Father who was sat to his left. “Aemon said I can’t breathe fire so I wouldn’t make a very good dragon, I would call that judgemental.” Aemon was eleven, and far too intelligent for his age, he corrected politely more often than not yet with Aerion everything was a personal offence if it could be taken as criticism. “Actually what I said was you wouldn’t make a very successful dragon, seeing as the fire breathing aspect is what makes them so deadly.” Aemon chided, a childish grin plastered on his face as he taunted his elder brother, “Unless you meant it as a metaphor.”
“What the fuck is a metaphor?”
“Aerion!”
“Mind your tongue!”
Both yourself and Maekar called almost in sync, your voices merging as your son ‘accidentally’ slipped another expletive. “If you cannot watch your words and be polite to your brother on his nameday, you will be removed from the table up to your bedchamber. Am I clear? Aerion?” Maekar scolded, raising an eyebrow in his second son’s direction as Aerion continued to eat his bloodied steak. “It was an honest question.” He raised his hands now in mock defence as blood slipped down his fork from the cut of steak stabbed messily onto it. “Aerion you are flinging blood everywhere, please put your hands down nobody here intends on shooting you.”
“I’d beg to differ.” Daella scoffed. You had to purse your lips to suppress a smirk at the girls attitude. Her appearance was entirely, ethereally, you. But that was the attitude of Maekar Targaryen at its finest. She was seven, and a force to be reckoned with. She was quiet and calculating, a beauty in the eye of all with the foul mouth of her Father stuck onto her like an afterthought. She was perfect, to you, to her Father and to almost all but her siblings who more often than not ended up on the receiving end of her cheeky ploys and attitude. It was also widely known that she had her Father completely and utterly wrapped around her finger, at her mercy, point being actively proven as Maekar cut up her steak for her, removing the fatty bits she refused to touch because they made her teeth feel funny. You couldn’t even be mad at him for coddling her, you knew one thing and that was your girl knew how to stand up for herself and put a man in his place, she could protect herself just fine and that made you feel all the more better about raising girls in this wretched world. However, with three older brother’s and a Father who would go to war for her if she asked, she had no need to defend herself currently, and she definitely used it to her advantage. Because she was your smart girl. You adored her always. “And what is that supposed to mean my darling?” Maekar questioned, pushing her plate back in front of her as a three year old Aegon slingshotted several peas in Aerion’s direction, clearly coached by Daella as there was absolutely no way your three year old had successfully loaded his slingshot with such an abundance of peas. You tried your best with Aerion, there was no doubt in that, to the courts you defended him endlessly but he was disciplined fairly at home for his wrongdoings, he got away with very little except for the foul mouth. But due to this, Daella and Aemon had seemingly formed an alliance against their elder brother, now recruiting young Egg who was still learning his way in the world. It would be adorable if it didn’t cause such problems.
“Oi! Mother you cannot let him get away with that! Control the thing!” Aerion shouted, pushing his chair back and standing as little Aegon giggled in delight at the smushed peas on Aerion’s tunic. “That thing is your brother, and you did worse Aerion, you flung a knife at your Father when you were three. He’s still got the scar to prove it.” You shook your head gently, standing and passing little Rhae over to Maekar who took her with a glad smile as she pulled at his beard and shook with excitement at the familiar face of her Father. You stood in front of your son, brushing the pea residue from his tunic and pushing him back down into his chair, before rounding the table and picking up Aegon and taking him back to your seat, Daeron passing the young boy’s plate across so that is sat in front of you. You fed him quietly as the chatter resumed. He was more than capable, yes, but he made too much mess almost on purpose as if he knew you or his Father would just do it for him. And one of you almost always gave in. So yes, you were both technically being bested by a three year old. “Why did you leave knives lying around then?” He smirked sarcastically, as if he had won. As if you didn’t know the nature of your own boy. “We didn’t, Aerion.” Maekar started, eyes casting over to the boy, “You broke into Uncle Baelor’s solar, into his desk drawer and tried to fend me off from taking you for a bath. I’d show you the scar but I am sure you would not like to see me shirtless at the table.” Aerion grimaced at the thought and shook his head, “Absolutely not.” Maekar nodded his head, “Alright then. Shut up and eat your dinner.”
It was when you were all lounging at the table eating cake when Aerion seemingly could not hold his tongue. The order of the children had chaotically all switched around, Daella had decided to perch herself in your lap, playing with your hair and plaiting it, telling you how good you would look if you just let her do it now. “Maybe later, my angel, we do not want to get hair in our cake- or cake in our hair rather, do we?” You smiled, she giggled in response, “You’re silly mummy.” You nuzzled your nose into her shoulder, tickling her inadvertently causing more giggles to erupt from the girl as she picked at her cake.
“Father.”
“Aerion.”
“You were old when you got married.” The sigh that escaped Maekar was not a quiet one, he anchored his head to eye Aerion, to gage where yet again this conversation could possibly be going. Somehow he had Aemon with a chair pulled directly next to his, the boy nestled into his side under his arm, Rhae now resided in Daeron’s embrace as he doted on her quietly, and Aegon perched atop both of Maekar’s knees, eating from both his and his Father’s plates. “I was older, yes.” He strained. He hated the topic of conversation, he loved you, and how he met you, yet he knew he was considered older than most men when he decided to wed you. You were young and full of life- you still very much were, but he had overheard many women of the court offering you their sympathies when they initially heard of the betrothal. Oh how far from the truth they had been.
“But you’re older than Mother.” Aerion prodded, causing Maekar’s eyes to clench shut, he already knew where this conversation was headed. “Surely Mother could have had any man she wished, she’s beautiful. And she chose an old man. A fourth son at that, claim to nothing. A bit of wasted beauty no? It’s rumoured even the Prince of Dorne vied for her hand and she turned him down, for what? A life in the Storm Lands? Couldn’t say I would do the same- what?Why are you all looking at me like that, it’s an honest question. I am sure I’m not the first to ask.”
Your gaze found Aerion’s with a singular stern look, no words left your mouth. Gently you shifted off of the seat, propping Daella onto it. Grasping Aerion by the shoulder, taking full advantage of his small stature for his age, you pulled him “Get up.” You grunted, he stumbled to his feet as you hauled him up the patio steps into the house, up to his bedchambers. You passed many maids and guards along the way, all looking rather surprised, more often than not it was Maekar dealing with Aerion’s behaviour, not you.
As the door slammed shut behind you, you released your grip on your son, brows furrowed “What, you will punish me for speaking what is in my mind!” Your seething was silent, eerily silent. Never did you see the day you would have to be defending your marriage, your own husband, to the son that you both shared. “Do you truly have no idea the love I have for your Father? Truly do you see none of it?” You questioned, voice painfully quiet as your words flowed freely, willing your son for one more supposed truth tonight. “I mean you have six children so maybe there’s something.” Aerion shrugged. You laughed, physically laughed, fingers pressing into your temples, “Maybe there’s something.” You repeated, another laugh escaping you as it settled into a simmering rage. “If you think, Aerion, what your Father and I share is just something, the world is going to chew you up and spit you out. I was advised against everyone who loved me not to marry your Father, because seemingly he was cold, unlovable, lacks the adoration to be a doting husband was actually a direct quote from one of my previous maids. She was removed from my service for that comment. Regardless, I married your Father because I learned him, and I learned that he was not actually so unlovable because I was actively doing it. And he protested. He said I was too young, too full of life, I needed a Lord my age. But I insisted I wanted him. Being a fourth son? What does it matter, I did not lose him to the courts, you have a more present Father because his status gives him respect and he is entitled to things such as this yet he is not required where he does not will. You should be grateful. The the day he relented and pledged himself to me was the best day of my life. Look at where I am Aerion, I am a proud Mother to six wonderful children, whom I chose to have, I was not forced nor coerced. I chose to have six of you. And because your Father loved me so deeply we had another, and another. I choose his clothing, I speak to the tailors and deal with all that because the faffing irritates him, the same as it does you, I do that for him because I love him as I love you. This house do you think its colours were always purple and gold? No. They were once red and black, yet when I married your Father he had the entire house repainted and decorated so that I would feel more welcome so far from my own family as we begun our own. So don’t you dare ever, ever, suggest that there is no amount of love between your Father and I. Your Father is a great man, great men make mistakes and I know you feel he has done you some injustice by punishing you for your bad behaviour but when you learn one day what some children have to endure at their Father’s hand you will be grateful yours loved you enough not to. You dare speak of him in such a way again Aerion, you dare.” You shook your head, eyes boring into his own violet ones as he stared up at you, ears pink as be chewed at the inside of his lip. You hated feeling anger towards any of your children, but eventually Aerion was going to need to hear it sooner or later.
“You will not leave this bedchamber tonight. You will have some water, have a bath and go to bed. Tomorrow morning at breakfast you will be the first one there and you will apologise to your Father alone and sincerely. Do you understand?” You raised an eyebrow, pulling his hands apart so that he would not pick his nails. “Yes mother.” You nodded, “Good. Do not pick your nails it causes more damage than you’d think. Goodnight Aerion.” You pressed a quick, gentle kiss to the top of his head before departing, closing the door behind you and politely asking a maid to draw Aerion a bath.
You had not realised quite how long you had spent in that bedchamber, for Maekar had managed to put the rest of the young children to bed. You found him in Daeron’s bedchamber, sat in the armchair by the fire as Daeron lounged on the end of the bed. You took a seat next to him silently, “Did you hit him?” Daeron questioned, you couldn’t quite work out which answer he was looking for. You knew he thought Aerion deserved a good smack from time to time, but you also knew he felt guilty for thinking as such because at the end of the day Aerion was his brother, and the Septons say we must love our brothers. “Have I ever hit any of you?” You teased, squeezing his arm. “No, but none of us are Aerion.” Daeron answered, a cheeky grin on his tired face. “I apologise for ruing your nameday dinner, Dae.” You stroked some of his tousled sandy hair back from his face gently as he shrugged. “M’not bothered. Really. This has been a thousand times better than it would have in Kings Landing. So thank you.” You pursed your lips into a weak smile as he leant down so you could hug him tightly, “Happy nameday sweet boy.” You kissed his forehead softly before rising, Maekar too standing and pressing a gentle kiss to Daeron’s forehead, his palm cupping Daeron’s cheek. He admired momentarily. He was now adorning more features of a man than child, no longer was he the chubby cheeked babe that had come into the world singing a gale. “Happy name day, son.” Daeron smiled gently in reciprocation, “Thank you, Dad.” With a nod, Maekar followed to where you had been waiting in the doorway, a lazy smile on your face as your lip quivered lightly. You found every nameday of each child slightly emotional, but Daeron most-so as he was the first of your children to reach any milestone, any age, and any maturity.
The door clicked shut behind Maekar, as he gazed down to find your eyes. Gently he reached for your face, pulling you into a silent yet entirely devoted kiss. He was entirely yours, and he would make it known your defence of him had meant more than anything, just as it had all those years ago.
“Eugh!”
Both your heads snapped to the direction of the sound, finding Daella stood in her purple nightgown in the centre of the corridor, completely and utterly disgusted at the sight of affection between her own Mother and Father. A hearty laugh escaped the pare of you, your hand coming to rest on Maekar’s clothed chest as Daella’s jaw nearly hit the floor. “Don’t you have a bedchamber! Why must my eyes be subjected to this torture! Eugh! Miss Melinda where is the soap I need to wash my eyes!” Daella’s night nurse Melinda hurried out of her bedchamber, feigning dramatics “Oh my darling Princess what is it that has caused you such strife.” You had to burrow your head, stifling giggles, into Maekar’s chest so you did not seemingly offend your daughter further. “Unfortunately, Melinda, my dearest daughter was subjected to seeing me show some affection toward my wife.” The grin of amusement on his face was unmistakable, as was the twinkle within his eye as Melinda played along with a wink. “Oh you poor thing! No little girl should have to see such things!” Daella’s giggles could be heard all throughout the corridor as she allowed Melinda to carry her back to her bedchamber, “Goodnight mummy! Goodnight daddy!”
“Goodnight Daella.” Maekar called as you made sure to blow her a kiss as she disappeared into her own room. You were giddy like children. “I’ll race you to the bedchamber.” You spoke, unclasping Maekar’s cloak from his shoulders and chucking it onto one of the standing tables of the corridor. “But I’ve already chased Aegon- Wife!” You were already gone, sprinting down the corridors of Summerhall as your Husband chased, paces behind following your giggles that entirely mirrored Daella’s own. Servants and staff alike only watched with amused grins from afar, it was rare they saw the Prince so happy again. They knew he was contented, but with so many children he was tired more often than not, it brought a smile to all to see the great Prince Maekar, The Anvil, chasing his Wife through the corridors of his estate, a childish grin plastered on the pair of your faces.
Slamming your hand into the door you called, “I win!” He stopped, now towering over you. “You only won, woman, because you are a cheat.” You feigned offence, “What a vile accusation! A Lady never cheats, she simply outsmarts the beast that is man!” He pinched your side causing another giggle to escape you as you tried to manoeuvre away from him, “Beast?” He grinned, “Beast? Who are you calling a beast, wife?” A shriek escaped you as he cornered you into the bedchamber, door swinging shut as his fingers didn’t leave your side “Maekar! Don’t tickle me- I’ve had six children I can’t take being tickled!” He stopped with a laugh, a soft smack to your arse as he turned you over on the bed to being undoing the laces of your dress.
When you were bare before him you turned over, his hands ran over your soft stomach gently, settling above your hips to keep ahold of you. “Perhaps a bath?” You asked, cupping his jaw and pulling him lower into a hungry kiss. “You defended me.” He spoke softly, his voice only being capable of going so low made it rasp against your skin. You frowned “Why would I not?” You helped him undress himself, when he too was bare he lifted you further up the bed to settle against the pillows. “Maekar.” You spoke softly, fingers caressing his cheek. “He is not wrong.” He admitted painfully, pressing his cheek against your breasts, his beard prickly against your supple skin, his hands grounding themselves at the sides of your ribs as he allowed for once, his entire weight to rest upon you as the lower half of him was lying between your legs. You wrapped your arms around him gently, tilting your head forward to bring your lips against the top of his head. “He is so unbelievably wrong. He is our spoiled little boy who we’ve practically coddled near every day of his life, he does not seem to understand that what we have is love because he has nought to compare it to. Baelor and Jena are more than content, your parents are the image of love. When compared to them yes we are less flashy, but anyone who understands us understands what we are. And Aerion will, in time.” You felt your chest dampen, you adjusted your head so that you could see his face, his eyes cast downward as silent tears fell down his face, onto your breasts.
“I have spent my entire life in Baelor’s shadow. The fourth son, claim to nothing. Not desired in court, never supposed to have a woman like yourself as my bride. I’ve never not heard the whispers. My home is my home and I became content with that. The staff care for us, not the rumours. I select who works in my service. And yet it was not a stranger, but rather my own son.” You bit your lip to still its quivering, your heart hurt for him. You had heard the admission before but it had been from strangers, for your own son to haphazardly admit he thought his own father unworthy of you was a stab to the gut for Maekar. The court could think it all they liked but for his own son felt like a cruel jest by the God’s. That he was doomed to be forever reminded by the boy he had helped create that even he could see he was not worthy of your love. “Do not let our son. Our son. The boy we created out of love, who has turned out angry at the word since the day he came. Make you feel any less than what you are. You are everything to me, Maekar. Without you I would not be so loved, so cherished. I would be childless, because God’s be damned if I’d put myself through one pregnancy let alone six, for any man but you. You are a loving husband, a devoted Father, a good man. Do you know how many women pray to the God’s for a man like you? Yet I had to beg for you because you thought I was too good for you? That is what makes you so whole Maekar. You are good, you love me, you love our children, you are kind. I just wish sometimes you could love yourself the way that I love you.” You held him tighter, if that could even be possible, legs coming to wind around his waist and cross at the based of his spine. “You love me.” It wasn’t a question, it was an affirmation, as if he was trying to engrave into his very being the truth your words carried what they meant to him.
“I do. And nothing anyone says can change that.”
He pressed his face against your chest, you felt his tongue glide up the valley between your breasts, “You love me.” He panted, his mouth descended upon one of your breasts, his tongue circling the peak of your nipple before sucking against it, beard scratching the skin around your breast. “I love you.” You panted back, becoming breathless as each kiss he lay tickled against your skin, lower and lower until he reached the top of your mound. He layered a kiss to the skin there before delving lower, another grunt escaping him, “I love you.” He parted your folds hungrily with his tongue before lapping up your growing wetness, a languid mewl escaped you at the feeling as you rested the backs of your knees against his shoulders. “That’s it.” He hummed, the vibrations sending shivers through you causing your back to involuntarily arch. “Give your weight to me, wife. Give your everything to me.” A moan escaped you again, longer and louder this time as he delved deeper, his nose bumping with your swollen clit in rhythm with his tongue lapping at your weeping hole. “M-Maekar, I should be making you f-feel better, my love.” You opened your mouth yet no sound came out, your head flinging back into the pillows as your eyes rolled back. He had increased his pace feverishly, gripping you as close to his face as he could possibly get, he pulled back only briefly “This is for me, sweet wife.” He pressed as sloppy kiss to your inner thigh, sucking until it bruised before digging his teeth in bluntly. “Having you, having all of you at my mercy. This is what I desire more than anything. No other man of my Father’s court has ever seen such a sight, nor will he ever know one as beautiful as mine.” He burrowed himself back in, his fingers joining the ever growing sequence as your legs begun to shake. He wanted this, so you held on as desperately as you could, until you were cumming without realisation. The combination of his rough padded fingers inside of you as his soft tongue lapped and sucked at your clit had forced your orgasm to overtake near every nerve that consumed you, a defeated whimper left your lips as you released you grip on his hair and panted for breath quietly. Your eyes took a moment to adjust back to the light from the darkness and speckles of colour from how truly tight you had clenched them shut. “You still with me sweetheart?” Maekar lifted his head, he knew he had pushed you, but now you were near passed out from overstimulation and pliant to his will. He kissed up from your mound to your navel, before following the path up to your jaw.
You smiled lazily, “Hi.” Pressing a kiss to the tip of his nose. “Are you alright?” He questioned, running his hands over you as you nuzzled into his neck “More than okay, my love.” You pressed your lips against his forehead. “Are you going to fuck me now?” He laughed against your skin, lapping and sucking at the crevice of your collarbone, “Still not satisfied? Some might call that gluttony.” You whined lightly, palms pressing against his chest “I’m asking you to fuck me husband, do you need more direction?” Finally giving in, not that it took much convincing, he lined his cock up to your already dripping hole. He thrust in harshly, knocking the air from your lungs in one swift movement. Nothing came out of you save for an incoherent mumble as you pressed your face into the crook of his neck. Maekar Targaryen did nothing half bothered, everything was done perfect and proper. Which was why pleasuring his wife was one of the utmost serious matters to him.
He flipped the pair of you, his back now rested against the plush pillows, your thighs caging his waist as he kept his knees spread and bent, giving you all the more access and freedom of movement. “Show me how much you love me.” He commanded, kneading the fat of your arse before smacking it, coaxing a moan from you as you begun to ride his cock. He could not escape the noises tearing from his lips, his head thrown back in bliss as you rode him. He could not release his grip from you, he was utterly enchanted by how entirely you were giving yourself to him, like you didn’t already share six children and had been married over a decade. You clenched your walls around him, coaxing an unrestrained groan from his lips as you joined them to your own, slipping letting your tongues dance with one another as you drew closer to your peak. He pulled his hand free reluctantly to press his finger against your clit, rubbing slow circles as you jolted up and down on his thick cock. “S’too much.” You whined, head falling back as your hair cascaded down your spine entirely free. “Cum for me, wife. Come on my cock, I’ll give you another child if you tell me what I need to know.” He rasped, picking up his thrusts to continue your faltering rhythm. “I love you.” Your voice was breathless, skin sticky, your nails clawing at his skin as you fought against him for your own pleasure. “I know you do. Let go f’me.” Unable to fight back any longer you came with an unruly moan, he grunted, pulling your chest until it pressed against his own, head collapsing under his jaw as he released his seed deep inside of you.
You both remained entirely unmoving, entirely obsessed with one another as you silently willed to never part. “Another girl.” He mumbled against your hair, “Hm?” You lifted your head lightly, your nose pressing to his jaw. “When this one takes. Another girl.“ You just nodded, no room for argument as you surrendered entirely to him, pliant against the hard planes that adorned his body, muscles contracting under you lightly with every breath.
“I love you.”
✴︎
The following morning was a quiet one. You remained curled into Maekar, covered by the thin bedsheets resting in the breezed from the window as you nuzzled against his chest. The knock at the door was so quiet you might not have even heard it had you been truly resting. Adjusting the quilts so that you were both appropriately covered, Maekar called “Enter.” Inside came Aerion, a small envelope in hand. He placed it on Maekar’s bedside table before turning, “I am sorry, Father.” Maekar gave a small nod, “Thank you Aerion.” Aerion wasted no time in exiting the room, slamming the door behind him with a thud.
Tearing the envelope softly, Maekar pulled out a surprisingly neat piece of folded parchment, Aerion’s recognisable scrawl adorning the yellowed page. A small smile rested upon your pouted lips, Maekar letting out a small chuckle of amusement at the heading of the paper.
Reasons that I am grateful for my Father
A/N: this might be my favourite piece i’ve written, the anon request was perfect, it took me a while to start but it just started flowing and i am so so happy, i write my best when im writing about maekar and the maekarlings i swear so if anyone has any other requests for them pls pls pleaseeee send them i adore the entire dynamic
anyway, as always: requests are open, likes, comments, reblogs and any interactions at all are always always appreciated - take care everyone!!
Maekar seeing how well you do with his kids and wanting to add another Maekarling
and you don’t need much convincing
18+ (smut, breeding duhhh)
he watches you from across the courtyard where you sit on a low stone bench, surrounded by blooming spring flowers and a gaggle of excitable children that are not made of your blood. but someone of lesser understanding would not have known that.
the deep crimson of your skirts pool out around you, an unfurling magnolia with velvet petals, as you perch on the seat with rhae curled in your lap, head tucked beneath your chin. aemon sits beside you, his head on your shoulder as he reads softly aloud, and daella sits at your feet, fingers running up and down the smooth expanse of your skirts. aegon stands on his toes behind you, pushing yet another small flower into your hair.
maekar pauses in the doorway, leaning against the stone arch as he observes. his children speak kindly to you, and you speak to them much the same, and as you soothe rhae with one hand, pet daella’s hair with the other, whilst listening to aemon’s muttering and allowing aegon to turn your hair into a garden, maekar realises something. he realises he wants this life with you.
and when he corners you that evening, his children put to bed and tucked out of sight, he realises you want the same thing.
he’s not gentle.
it had started gentle, as it usually did, but after pulling you apart on the flat of his tongue, followed by the stretch of two thick fingers, he knew exactly what he wanted and how he was going to get it. good thing you liked it like that.
maekar curls you over the edge of the bed, your body completely bare as you bend and lay amongst the silks and furs. a strong, calloused hand holds the back of your neck, anchoring you to the feathered mattress as he stretches your pussy open around the thick of his cock.
he groans, feeling your pussy pull tight around him as he ruts in. silk walls draw inwards, heavy against the ridges along his shaft and the vein, pumping hot with blood, that runs along the underside. his other hand is a vice on your hip, dimpling the flesh as he forces you back onto him, the slapping sounds of skin-on-skin loud in the evening silence of your chambers.
you mewl into the sheets beneath you, a string of saliva already catching out the side of your mouth as your husband thrusts into you, the movements deep and far-reaching. heavy balls nudge against the swollen pearl of your clit, and you mewl again, startled, when the head of his cock punches up towards the plug of your cervix.
“don’t fuss,” maekar grumbles, rutting into you, eyes trailing down the line of your spine and over the curve of your arse as he holds you down by the nape. your pussy drools around him, his flushed shaft slick as he pulls out, then shoves back in. he groans, “fuck, you always take me so well, don’t you?”
he doesn’t really want a response when he questions you like this, cock splitting you open as he pins you to your shared bed. you gape, breathy moans falling free of your throat as your fingers tangle in the silken sheets and sweat builds tacky down your back and thighs. he listens to you gasp and mewl, a crooked smile on his face as he kneads the fat at your hip.
“how many times…” maekar begins, sentence breaking momentarily as the wet squelch of your cunt becomes audible in the flame-soaked silence, the open hearth flickering nearby. you whimper, and your husband groans. “will i have to spill in this tight cunt before you’re full, huh? how many times will she have to take me before you’re round with my child?”
you let out a pathetic sound, some mix of a gasp and a moan, the syllables showing some semblance of his name, but it’s lost in the heat of your pleasure. a third orgasm sparks at the ends of your nerves, flames flickering across the walls of your womb, deep in your pelvis.
maekar grunts, strands of white hair falling loose over his forehead, cheeks hued with pink beneath the candlelight. he palms the flesh of your arse now as the hand on your neck pushes you deeper against the bed.
“is that what you want, little dove?” he asks as his hips rock, the leaking head of his cock pushing right up against that perfect spot inside you. your back arches and you cry out his name, pussy fluttering as heat fills the base of your tummy. he grunts, continuing as you squirm. “you want me to fill you? spill deep inside this tight cunt ‘til she makes a right mess of herself, yeah?”
“maekar,” you manage out, and it’s low and tense and strung across a high-pitched moan. you fist the silks and furs for support as he rocks against you, bed creaking.
“i’m right here,” he whispers, barely audible over his hips slamming against your arse. the fingers on your neck give you a gentle squeeze, and you suck in a shallow breath. then, he groans, the thick of his cock sucked in tight as your pussy flutters around him. “oh, she wants it, little dove. wants me to fill her—wants me to make you a mother.”
you cry out at his words, your release strung taut across your sparking nerves. it’s right there, your entire body growing rigid beneath him as he spears you apart on his cock. you grow hot, and hotter still, tension deep through the lines of your pelvis as you angle your hips to meet his thrusts, heartbeat heavy in your clit.
maekar huffs and grunts behind you, his voice breaking across a poorly hidden whine. “fuck, fu-uh-ck, oh, little dove, here we go, here we go…”
he coaxes you through your orgasm as it ignites and overwhelms you. your body shakes, trembles like a picked flower, as heat bursts through your pelvis and the depths of your womb, your pussy squeezing tight around him. you moan, his name and his title up in the air around you, as stars burst behind your lowering lids and your legs threaten to give out.
but he’s not far behind you—as you come, he groans his praises, guiding you through the fissuring of pleasure with “that’s it, there we go” and “good girl, just like that” as he ruts his cock towards the base of your womb. with each thrust into you, slick dribbles out around his shaft, and he feels it along the seam of his balls as they draw up, visions of you fat with his child at the forefront of his mind.
maekar groans loudly. “gods, you’ll look perfect round with my child—fuck, i’ll be good to you, little dove, an’ i’ll keep you full all—the—fucking—time—” thrust, thrust, thrust, with each word, before he’s letting out a hoarse moan of your name and shoving himself to the hilt inside you.
he rolls his hips, sliding against you in lazy movements as he spills right against your cervix. still fizzling down from your own orgasm, you let out a shaky moan as he fills you, seed too warm in the base of your pelvis. his cock twitches, jerks inside you as your walls flutter, then pull him in even tighter as his seed fills you, fills you still, then settles.
he doesn’t pull out, but he collapses half way on top of you—the hand on your neck moving to bracket your head. you shift a little, panting as he plants a wet kiss to the corner of your mouth. you whine, turning your head to slide your lips to his. he grunts into your mouth as your tongues meet, and you taste yourself on him as your heart begins to slow beneath your ribs. he pulls away, resting his dewy forehead against your temple.
“it’ll take,” he says like he’s sure of it. like he knows it will.
“and if it doesn’t?” you counter through a mumble, limbs lax as you melt into the silks and furs, his body a firm press atop yours.
maekar chuckles. it’s a deep, low sound that vibrates through his chest, and it makes a little whine slip past your lips.
“then we keep trying,” he mutters, rolling his hips and nudging his cock deeper. you whimper, a shudder racking through you in response. he kisses your warm cheek. “i’ll fill you again and again, every fucking night, until you’re too full to even move… understood?”
you nod, words evading you as he noses your cheekbone, kissing you softly there too as his cock twitches where it sits deep, plugging you full of him.
groping your thighs just beneath the cut of your lawlessly short skirt. begging you to wear those lower dip tops he splurged on, always with the notion youd be able to show off the best of the purple bruises around your chest.
feeling you up for the entire bar to see, sultry brown irises darkening a shade as he hears your breathing shift. it was nice he invited the rest of the team for a little more. least he couldve done, who would he be to send them home with aching tension?
yanking you by the scalp and pushing the middle of your back into the nastiest arch they had ever seen. moving to grip your jaw, holding it open as saliva ran down your chin and eyes rolled into the high sky.
licking up your maw, other paw circling your clit as each drive home made your throat a little scratchier. burn more vivid.
kyle gripped himself, legs twitching from self overstimulation. johnny grunting into your panties he snagged when ghost tossed them. price gripping your dresser with blunt nails, sweat slick and creating equally as wet noises as that around him.
touching was for simon alone. but looking? he could share a little.
tysm for the request anon i love this VERY very much and it got my JUICES flowing (writing juices) requests are so helpful when i don’t know what to write next :<
hcs of aerion, daeron, duncan, valarr
mdni 18+
Aerion - The candles had burned out hours ago. (that was a lie, you blew them out on purpose). The room was pitch black, every sound felt louder, the shift of sheets, the creak of the floorboards, your breath. You hear Aerion come in, changing his clothes before slipping into bed beside you, late as always. His body cool from the corridor as opposed to your warmth. He didn't speak. Didn't warn you. Just lifted the blankets and slid in, his chest pressing against your back.
And froze.
Because you were naked.
His hand, which had been reaching for your waist, stopped mid-air. You felt him go still behind you, his brain had definitely short-circuited.
"Aerion," you murmured, feigning innocence and sleepiness. You weren’t actually tired. No. You stayed awake for this.
His hand dropped to your hip. His fingers spread wide, spanning the curve of you, skin to skin.
"You're not wearing anything," he said. His voice was low. Rough. Different than usual.
"Mhm."
His grip tightened. His breath was hot on your neck, uneven.
"Why?"
You didn't answer. You just pressed back against him, and he groaned deep in his chest.
His arm locked around your waist, pulling you flush against him. His cock was already hard, pressing into the swell of your backside, and he rutted against you once, twice, like he couldn't help himself.
"This what you wanted?" he muttered against your shoulder, his teeth grazing your skin. "Wanted me to find you like this?"
You turned your head, bit your lip, and giggled. Looking at the gleam of desire in his eyes despite the dark.
"Yes."
He flipped you onto your stomach.
His weight settled over you, his chest to your back, his hips cradled between your thighs. His hand fisted in your hair, turning your face to the side, and he pushed inside you in one slow, deliberate thrust.
You gasped. He groaned.
"Fuck," he breathed, his forehead dropping to your shoulder. "Fuck."
He didn't move for a moment and just stayed in your warmth, buried to the hilt, his body trembling against yours. Then he pulled out and slammed back in, hard enough to shove you up the bed. He had you gasping for air, your hands fishing into the silk sheets in front of you.
He fucked you like that. Rough. Fast. His hand never left your hair, his teeth never left your shoulder, his hips never stopped moving. He praised you the whole time, his breathing was ragged, his groans muffled against your skin, and when he came, he bit down hard enough to leave marks.
He didn't pull out. Just stayed there, heavy and spent, his face buried in your neck.
"You're going to sleep like this from now on," he said eventually, his voice hoarse.
You laughed, breathless. "Am I?"
"Yes."
He kissed your shoulder softly and didn't move for the rest of the night. Mission accomplished. Good job, you.
Daeron - Daeron came to bed late, as usual. You heard him fumbling in the dark, kicking off his boots, tugging at his belt, muttering curses when his sleeve got caught. Then the bed dipped, and he crawled toward you, reaching out to pull you close.
His hand landed on your bare hip.
He froze. His eyes wide. God you wish there was a candle lit so you could see his expression.
"Are you-" His voice cracked. He tried again. "Are you naked?"
You turned over to face him, the sheets pooling around your waist. Even in the dim light filtering through the curtains, you could see his eyes go wide.
"Yes," you said.
He stared at you. His mouth opened. Closed. Opened again.
"I-"He swallowed. "I don't-" He ran a hand through his hair, messing it further. "You can't just-"
You reached out and took his hand, placing it on your breast.
He made a sound. Something between a groan and a whimper.
"Daeron," you said softly. "Touch me."
He did.
His hands were shaking. They were always shaking, lately, but tonight it wasn't from drink. He touched you, oh so reverently, his palms skimming down your sides, his fingers tracing the curve of your waist, his thumbs brushing over your nipples until you gasped.
"I love you," he said, his voice rough. "I love you. I love you."
He kissed you deep and desperately, like he was trying to pour every word he couldn't say into the shape of his mouth against yours.
He laid you back against the pillows, his body covering yours, his weight a delicious pressure against your body. He pushed inside you slowly, inch by inch, his forehead pressed to yours.
"You feel so good," he whispered. "So good. I don't- fuck I can't-“
You wrapped your legs around his waist and pulled him deeper.
He moaned brokenly, trying to muffle the sound against your neck. His thrusts were slow, almost lazy. He held you the whole time, his arms wrapped around you, his face buried in your hair.
When he came, he shuddered, his breath hot against your collarbone.
"Stay," he murmured, already half-asleep. "Stay with me."
You stroked his hair. "I'm not going anywhere."
He smiled and held you tighter.
Duncan - Duncan came to bed after you. He always did, you liked to read before sleep, and he liked to stand in the doorway and watch you, his shoulder against the frame, his arms crossed over his chest.
But tonight, you'd had enough of waiting.
You set down your book, stripped off your nightgown, and slid under the covers. When Duncan finally came in, he stopped in the doorway.
"You're in bed already?" he asked, tugging his shirt over his head.
"Mhm. Come join me?” On the inside you were just bouncing with excitement.
He climbed in beside you, still wearing his smallclothes, and reached for you automatically, its instinct for him, his arm sliding around your waist, his chest pressing against your back.
His hand touched bare skin.
He jerked back like he'd been burned.
"What-" He sat up, staring down at you. The moonlight caught the confusion on his face. "You're not wearing anything."
"Is that a problem?” you asked slyly.
He stared at you for a long moment. His ears were turning red. His chest was heaving. He shook his head quickly
"Was this... did you plan this?"
"No."
"Oh." He swallowed. "Okay."
He lay back down, very carefully, and reached for you again. His hand landed on your hip, then slid up to your waist, then down to your thigh. He was touching you, worshipping you.
"You're so soft," he murmured. "You’re so beautiful. Always."
You turned over to face him, and his breath caught.
"Can I-" He gestured vaguely between you. "May I-"
"Please do."
He kissed you. Soft at first, then deeper, his big hands cradling your face ever so gently. He rolled onto his back, pulling you on top of him, and you felt him, thick, hard and ready, pressing against your thigh.
"I want to see you," he said, his voice rough. "I want to watch you."
You sank down onto him slowly, and his eyes fluttered closed. His hands found your hips, guiding you, his thumbs stroking circles on your skin.
"That's it," he breathed. "That's it, sweetheart. Just like that."
You rode him slow, and he watched you, watched your face, your breasts, the way your body moved above his. He looked like he couldn't believe you were real. Because he couldn’t. His eyes are full of adoration.
When you came, he followed, his hips bucking up into you, his groan muffled against your palm.
Afterward, he pulled you against his chest and wrapped his arms around you so tightly you could barely breathe.
"You're never wearing clothes to bed again," he mumbled into your hair.
You laughed. "That seems impractical."
"Don't care. You’re too beautiful to cover yourself up.”
He kissed the top of your head and held you until you fell asleep.
Valarr - The book was fascinating. You didn’t think so but Valarr did. He had gotten it from the maester's collection, some ancient text on dragon biology, full of illustrations and annotations in a language he was still trying to decipher. He had been reading it for hours, curled up on his side of the bed, the candle burning low beside him.
But you were equally invested in something else. You were feeling needy.
You had tried everything. Stretching. Yawning. Running your fingers through his hair. He murmured "just a minute" without looking up. You sighed. Shifted closer. Pressed your bare thigh against his.
He didn't notice.
So you sat up. Slipped off your shift. Lay back down, completely naked, your skin warm against the cool sheets.
He still didn't notice.
You huffed. Rolled over. Pressed yourself against his back, your breasts pushed against his shoulder blades, your arm sliding around his waist.
"Mmm," he said. "Almost done."
You waited. Counted to thirty. Then you reached over him, plucked the book from his hands, and set it on the bedside table.
"Love-" he started, turning to look at you. "I was in the middle of-"
He stopped.
His mismatched eyes went wide. His gaze dropped to your bare chest, then lower, then back to your face.
"Oh," he said.
You raised an eyebrow.
"I-" He swallowed. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize-"
"You were busy."
"I was." His hand came up, fingers brushing your collarbone. "I'm sorry."
He kissed you. Soft at first, then deeper, his hand sliding down your side, over your hip, gripping your thigh.
"Let me make it up to you," he murmured against your lips.
He tried to slide down, to put his mouth between your legs, but you pulled him back.
"I want you," you said. "Inside."
He blinked. Then he smiled, it made your heart stutter.
"Whatever you want sweetheart.”
He guided you onto your back, settled between your legs, and pushed inside you with a low groan. Your legs hooked over his shoulders, your ankles crossing behind his neck, and he leaned forward, changing the angle, making you gasp.
"Like this?" he asked.
"Yes. Yes."
He moved slowly at first, building rhythm, his mismatched eyes fixed on your face. His hand found yours, fingers interlacing, pressing into the pillow.
"I love you," he said.
You came. He followed, buried deep, his forehead pressed to yours.
Afterward, he didn't reach for the book. He just held you, his nose buried in your hair, his breathing slow and even.
"Thank you," he whispered.
"For what?"
"For reminding me… I’m still sorry."
You smiled into his chest. "I know."
He’ll be thinking about how to make it up to you for awhile. Checkmate.
Baelor who, after much pouting from you, lets you ride with him on his horse. The journey to Storm’s End was not a short one, and you had spent it cooped up in one of the royal carriages, which you had insisted on riding in alone.
Some men will say he spoils you rotten, and though he has never paid much mind to the opinions of others when it comes to his marriage, the truth is that he does try to tell you no. But you have always known how to push every button he possesses until he lets you have your way. Breakspear, they called him. And yet, he has never been any match for the fire in your eyes when something has gotten in the way of your desires.
Every time he steered his horse to the window of your carriage to ask how you are faring, you answered with a huff and a roll of your eyes, told him how horribly bored you were, how sore you were from sitting in one spot for hours, how much suffering he has brought upon you by caring for your comfort first and foremost. And yet, you refused to be accompanied by anyone but him, and he could not abandon his place at the front of the procession for long, leaving you both at an impasse.
He decided he could not take another fortnight of it on the way back. So, here you are, wearing riding breeches under your fine skirts, all so you could sit with your back to his chest for the duration of the journey home. The self-satisfied smile that overtook your face when he hoisted you onto his stallion did not escape his notice.
And though he claimed that the carriage had been for your safety, to avoid roaming bandits and the sores that might form on your inner thighs from such a long journey, the real reason was evident now that he had you here, one arm draped around your middle to keep you steady, the other gripped on the reins. Riding was usually a calming exercise for him, granting him a clear mind and lungful of fresh air, but he could not be calm when he had your scent in his lungs instead. The press of your body against his chest, between his legs, the steady gait of the horse rocking you back and forth against him — the effect you have on him is criminal.
You are conversing with him quietly, remarking on the passing landscapes, pointing out different species of birds and flowers and bunnies. He focuses his attention on your words, desperately trying to distract himself from the tightness of his breeches, and he prays you do not quiet, or he might stop the entire procession, force them to set up camp far before night has fallen, and take you against whatever tree he can find that will give you the most privacy.
Every so often, you’ll look up at him, tilting your head back like you miss the sight of him even when he’s close, and press a sweet, lingering kiss to his jaw, as high as you can reach at this angle. And despite himself, despite the knowledge that there are several footmen and guards watching his every move, his eyes flutter shut, and he lets out a soft gasp at the feel of your lips on his stubble.
He knows, from the look you give him, that you know. You are completely aware of the bulge against your lower back, of the hard set of his jaw, as if grinding his teeth to dust will get rid of his uncontrollable desire for you.
He prays the sun will set quicker tonight. He prays for a tent, alone with you, and he prays for the strength to deny you next time.
tf141 men who are all possessive in their own way.
soap, who won’t finish inside you but rather jerk himself off into your panties before sliding the slimy fabric back to its place, giving it a firm grope for good measure. he loves the idea of someone else pulling down your panties, just to find that he got there first.
price, who will always “accidentally” finish over your clothes so you’ll have to wear his training shirts out instead of walking around like a cum rag. but it doesn’t help the rumors around base when you’re walking around in the shirt that says “price” across the back.
gaz, who will take any chance to leave a blossoming bruise anywhere on your skin. even if it’s not sexual, he’ll find a way to get his lips on your neck, wrists, torso, thighs, anywhere. no matter how much you scold him, he always knows he can coax you into pulling down your shirt collar for him.
ghost, who will simply just fuck you into oblivion that you’re walking around like you need a cane. if it isn’t obvious what you’ve been up to by the way you’re walking, maybe they’ll hear your screams through the walls as they walk by ghost’s room.
captain john price who bangs his pretty cute girlfriend over his desk while the rest of his team sits awkwardly on the other side.
“open your eyes,” he commands you, his voice deep and rough. “I said, open em. are ya gonna piss me off too?”
and so you find it in you to open them despite the embarrassment that sits low in your gut as he ruts himself into you. It’s not hard to make out who’s in front of you. his warm skin and signature hat makes him easy to identify and as your vision focuses, you can make out the crimson on his cheek and the sweat building on his neck.
you look at him, almost apologetically, as if saying “I’m sorry you have to see me like this,” because Kyle truly is an angel and the idea of his knowing what your eyes looked like when all fucked out seemed like a sin on its own.
first, he calls out soap for texting you late at night. john fists the hair on your head till you’re facing the scot who’s not looking at your eyes, but somewhere lower. “y’know what couples do at night, Mactavish? I’ll give you a hint.” price snakes his arm between your legs, pinching and rolling your clit to which you let out a pained and delicious mewl.
and next in line is gaz, whose gesture of buying you your favorite foods has gone unliked by price. luckily, Gaz is sitting right next to soap so you don’t have to strain yourself to find him. Gaz knows he shouldn’t stare…but he can’t help himself and surprisingly, the captain hasn’t told anyone to stop so he swallows the lump in his throat, and commits the sight before him to memory.
then there’s ghost, who refuses to acknowledge he has actively done anything. “bullshit. wanna tell me why you’re always staring at her ass?” which shuts the brooding man up immediately.
your orgasm comes quick, as it always did. your words come out broken and desperate but they barely register to your boyfriend who has his own agenda.
your eyes roll back as you climax, the euphoria sending you into a blissful state of haze. but john doesn’t stop, not when he has a point to prove.
so he fucks you through your high, and then he fucks you more. your hand presses against his thigh with no real pressure, sobbing cries of overstimulation.
“after today, i want no more foolery from any of you. I’d suggest you take today for all it’s worth because after tonight, you can all go to your beds and jerk off your pathetic cocks to the memory of this and. nothing. else.” he punctuates each word with a sharp thrust, willing either your legs or the desk legs to give out.
“do i make myself clear?”
and the answer all comes in unison. “Yes, Captain.”
reader who is, unfortunately, a “too honest for their own good” kind of drunk who gets dragged to the bar with tf141.
“kyyyle,” you slur, leaning over the table to which Gaz cracks a smile. “so pretty…anyone ever tell you you’re pretty? like ‘men should be buying you dinner’ pretty.”
soap snorts, an amused smile on his lips. “Ya don’ even get a handsome, just fuckin’ pretty.”
“oi, piss off, soap,” replies gaz with no real heat behind it. “and you,” he starts, bringing his attention backed to your slumped form, “are a shitty drinker.”
you giggle, barely lifting up your head from the table.
price shakes his head, taking a large swing from the pint. “kids these days.”
the laughter dies down, everyone enjoying the relaxing ambiance that’s been so hard to enjoy with missions on end these days. that is until-
“ugh- I’m so horny.”
the table stills, all eyes landing on your slumped form before soap bursts into uncontrollable laughter. his fist slams the table as gaz tries to still the man who’s slightly tipsy and leaning back in his chair.
“bloody hell,” ghost mumbles, crossing his arms. “you’re one them, huh? those honest-to-god-drunks.”
“you shouldn’t be saying those things out loud,” advises price, knowing full well that it’s going to go unheard seeing as you’re shit-faced drunk right now.
you groan, forehead connected with the table again. “you don’t get it. you’re old- probably have the sex drive of a tumble weed.”
gaz and soap have a poor attempt at stifling a laugh and even ghost cracks a small and an unseen smirk at your comment. price doesn’t bother with a retort, knowing you’ll have your regrets when they tell you about this conversation in the morning.
soap puts an encouraging pat on your back. “aye, cmon lass, if ya wanted to get laid, all ye gotta do is ask.” it’s clearly a joke but your head perks up anyways.
“don’t tempt me, cause I’ve thought about it.”
“you don’t say…” his eyes light up with interest.
ghost interrupts with a warning tone. “don’t encourage her, Johnny.”
“too late, LT.” soap stalks around your chair, sliding his arms ‘round back. he leans in close till you pick up the scent of beer on his lips. “tell me, what d’ya think of?”
you match his lean with one of your own, eyes blown wide and curious. “are you rough in bed? tell me you’re rough in bed.”
soap smirks, flashing a charming wink. “aye, lass. why? want my handprint on your ass?” ghost flashes him a stern look but soap merely shrugs unapologetically.
you groan at his answer, “god, I hope I remember that in the morning.”
“we get it. we get it. you’re horny for soap. let’s stop before I hurl.” gaz puts his hand on your shoulders, urging you to drink more water.
“dont be jealous, gaz. you’re in there too.”
and suddenly, the angel on his shoulder disappears. “oh yeah?”
“god, you have no idea how hard it is to work with hot men all day long. takes everything in me to not just give up on the mats and let you just pin me down.”
by now, soap has his phone out, recording this for evidence when you’re inevitably going to try to walk back on your words in the morning.
“would love to be bent over a desk, don’t even care who’s behind me. or who’s the biggest? LT? probably not you then- at least not first.”
you ramble on and on… about how you could get off to the gruff sound of your captains voice alone, or how sometimes you’d be soaking wet through your panties if they praised you enough.
and it’s not until you go into an explicit and ultra-specific scenario that involves all four men, some rope, vibrators, and a blindfold, going to ultra-specific detail about soap in your pussy, price in your mouth, and how maybe you’d even let someone in your ass, does someone do the sensible thing of slapping a hand around your mouth.
“I’m gonna take my hand off’ya, and you’re gon’ be quiet, yeah?”
your eyes glance up to a stone cold stare behind a mask, meeting his gaze before you nod. “good girl.”
his hand slowly withdraws and you’re silent. it stays that was for a moment, everyone unsure how to break the tension left in the air after your revelation…that is until-
“aye, what’s that LT?”
and that, would be the stiffy that’s hardly concealed behind his jeans- perhaps he needs to buy baggier clothes from now on.
you stare at it. then you stare at him. “god, I knew you were big.”
I have a request please, reader’s family feels sorry that she has to marry Maekar, who everyone has heard is unloving and kids who are wild. In reality he is very caring, just in ways most people don’t see. And the kids just need a bit of love and understanding. So when reader’s family visits they’re surprised to see reader so happy, a husband who seems at peace, and kids who love their step-mother because she takes time for them and supports them.
Thanks you 💗
Not So Terrible
18+ MDNI
Maekar Targaryen x f!Reader
AN: I wrote this while watching the first two shrek movies and it actually kills me the similarities (obviously he is shrek lol) also if you read the note in the Dunk alphabet I just posted this is not the fic I was talking about I’ve just been working on this one longer <3
Warnings: Smut, insecurity, family drama, drinking
3.9k Words
Your mother had fallen to her knees, screaming out in agony when your father had made the announcement. You were to be wed to a Prince, one known for his merciless brutality, a cold cruelty turned on all who were forced to be around him. Not to mention his brood of wild children, vile, loud, monstrous, creatures. There was no doubt his skills and strength had protected your family, and so many others, but your mother’s wails still echoed out through the grand hall of your father’s keep.
You’d rolled your eyes at her theatrics. The King decreed you to be a worthy wife for his youngest son, no amount of shouting about it would change anything. It was you who had to marry him, anyway. You believed the best thing you could hope for was a distance, a callous indifference from him that would keep him away from you and your bed.
How wrong you’d been.
Where you thought there would be pain, there was only a gentleness. Where you thought there would be indifference, there was intensity. Where you thought there would only be the cold, hardened heart of a warrior, you found a broken man, desperate and wanting.
Maekar had not displayed his affections at first, fighting tooth and nail for some semblance of apathy, but you had met him where he was; a tired Prince, worn from years of battle and loneliness, and loved him anyway.
The older Prince did not become warm and welcoming as he fell for you; he was still callous, disagreeable, fractious, he did not write you sonnets or sing to you songs of his devotion, but he was a lover nonetheless. You had grown enraptured in his embrace, and Summerhall once again became a palace of contentment, rather than misery.
The children were the same, each their own difficulty, but within that, their own joy. You came to love each one, not as an extension of their father, but as their own individual people. You often took tea in the gardens with Daella and Rhae. They were the first to enjoy your company, but over time, each of the Princes joined the fold. Daeron with a bottle in hand, sure, and Aerion and Aegon could not sit beside one another. The girls would fight over who got to sit beside you, and Aemon usually read the whole time. Maekar was strangely delighted the first time he went to fetch you, only to find his army of children laughing, and arguing, all sitting together because you were there.
After the outburst at the announcement of your betrothal, you sought to bring your family to light, inviting them to stay with you and see how content your new husband and children were. Maekar was not pleased, and had no problem voicing this opinion, but it had not stopped you. He claimed the savagery his children brought with them, wherever they went, was enough to have your parents snatching you up and bringing you home. You’d rolled your eyes, but you knew deep down he was far more nervous of their thoughts on a brutal, aging Prince.
You were staunchly determined to prove them all wrong.
*****
You’d set out to have tea with your mother in the gardens of Summerhall. The scent of lilies surrounded you as you sat, somewhat awkwardly, in the pavilion. It was abundantly clear your mother thought something was amiss, someone was watching, maybe even your husband sending someone to listen to his wife and mother-in-law chat- as if a Prince didn’t have better things to do.
“Tell me darling, how- how are you, really?” She bit out, a strained smile on her face. Your eyes widened with the chance to change her mind about your newfound family.
“Oh! Life here is lovely, mother. I could not have asked for a better situation.”
You made to grab her hands, a gesture of comfort, but she made an exasperated face, her hand coming up to rest over her heart. She leaned in close, as if to keep someone from listening, and whispered loudly:
“Really? My dear, we are alone, you can be truthful with me. I cannot begin to tell you how I’ve agonized over you, how I married my poor daughter off to this wicked family.”
You fought to stop yourself from saying something rude. She didn’t know any better, other than the ruthless rumors about the Targaryens.
She didn’t know that Maekar only ever looked at you with softened eyes, how his touch brought nothing but comfort and warmth, that despite his hardened exterior, he was entirely devoted to you.
You sat up a little straighter to answer.
“Do not forget, they are my family now, and they have welcomed me into their home in their own way. I have wanted for nothing. My dear husband has seen to my comfort here every possible way.”
Your lady mother did not look convinced.
“But everyone says Prince Maekar is so cruel, so vicious, that he would hurt you so!”
“My husband has been nothing but gentle to me, mother. I know you think him beastly, but I could not imagine marrying anyone else,” You almost laughed, imagining the look on Maekar’s face if you even mentioned another man, “We may not have the romantic tale you wished for me, but I love him, and he loves me.” You let out, heart beating. Your mother slowly nodded, taking a long sip of her tea before responding.
“And what of the children? Nightmares, I heard, each and every one. Would you not have rather had your own?”
She’d been most distraught about the children; a man with six already, four of them sons, could not possibly want another. What would you have to occupy yourself with but his wild brood?
You shook your head.
“Six children are a handful, to be sure, but I love them as my own, mother, really.”
Before she could give you an incredulous answer, you heard a rustling from the shrubbery. You smiled at the little face peeking out at you, and waved the little boy over to the table with an exaggerated sigh. Your mother looked horrified, as if her suspicions of spies had been correct.
“Come here, Egg, no more snooping.”
The young Prince climbed out of the bush, grinning as he stepped up to you, dirt on his trousers and across his cheek. He held his hands behind his back, giggling.
“I have something for you.”
“Oh? For me? That's very sweet of you, dearest.”
He stuck his arm out, fist full of lilies crushed in his hand. You stood, taking the bouquet from his fingers and bringing it to your nose.
“Mmmm, these are lovely. Thank you darling.”
You pressed a kiss to his silver hair, brushing it out of his face. He wiggled from your grasp, stepping back and laughing.
“Stop! My hair is fine!”
You made to fix him again, straightening his collar and wiping the dirt from his face. He was really laughing now, doubling over as you chased him. Your mother looked fondly at you, playing with your little boy. You finally grabbed him, pulling him into your arms to kiss his cheek.
“I think your knight is probably looking for you Egg, you run off now.”
He wrapped his skinny arms around your waist, squeezing tight before ducking back through the bushes, not before swiping a lemon cake from the table. You watched him fondly as he went.
You turned when mother hummed, a bewildered smile on her face.
“Well, it certainly seems your life is lively here.”
You plopped back into your chair, huffing out a breath and a grin.
“Oh, never a dull moment here.”
With that, you set your flowers into the glass on the table. The rest of the afternoon, your mother continued to ask questions, picking through everything she’d missed, but her tone was a little warmer than before and her face had lost its fear of someone listening.
*****
Dinner was a tense affair. Maekar had wanted it to go so well. He hadn’t voiced his apprehensions, far too proud to say he might be intimidated by meeting your family, but you’d known from the tension in his shoulders and the furrow of his brow that he was trying very hard to make things perfect.
He lectured each of the children on how important it was to make a good impression, to show the grace and dignity befitting of the Targaryen name. He’d lined them up before entering the dining room, each face watching their father pace before them.
“You will not embarrass your stepmother, you will not embarrass me, you will not embarrass our house, understood?”
Despite six nods in affirmation, you’d watched the affair fighting a smile. You loved each and every one of them, more than anything, but you knew there was no way they’d be behaving.
You sat between Daeron and your husband. The oldest boy alternating between sipping wine and whispering slurred jokes to you and your father, who seemed amused by the young Prince. Aerion sat on Maekar’s other side, a futile attempt to keep the boy in check. He was far too busy asking your younger sister questions to notice the lavender glare in his direction.
“So,” Aerion started, leaning forward in his seat, “Are you pleased with Summerhall, fair lady? I may be the lord here one day you know.”
He smirked, probably intending to look seductive but gave his face a boyish appearance. Daeron leaned over in his seat to look at his brother.
“No you won’t, idiot, you’re only second in line.”
The younger prince whipped his head around.
“Not with the rate of your drinking, I’ll be lord sooner or later.”
Maekar intervened, gruffer than he intended:
“Enough, or neither of you will be heir to this place.”
The room was silent. Your father’s eyes widened, your mother’s hand came over her mouth, even your sister looked surprised, as everyone turned to eye your husband. You could see his ears going red from the staring, and you reached over to cover his hand with yours.
“Darling, let them talk. We have many years yet before anyone else rules Summerhall. With luck I'll outlive you, and you can give it to me instead.”
Both boys began to laugh at your words, or maybe it was the look on their father’s face. It didn’t matter, the tension broke as your family nervously joined in. You kept your in Maekar’s, unclenching his fist to weave your fingers together. He slowly eased a little as your thumb dragged over his knuckles. You spoke low to him:
“Really, my love, it is alright.”
Maekar gave you a stiff nod, though you knew he didn’t mean it.
“Those two will be my ruin.” Your husband’s voice came close to your ear, quiet enough to be only for you.
“As it sounds now: me, Egg and the girls will live our lives happily without the torment of you three.”
You shot him a wink, and you could see the man fight a sneer. Or was it a smile? Who could tell with him. It did not stop you from smiling back, or pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek. If his face had a pinkish tint before, it was now creeping close to red.
You caught your mother’s smile at you as she snuck a glance at the tender moment.
*****
Finally, after a grueling day of convincing your mother you weren't a hostage and sitting though dinner with all of your children at one table, you could sit down and do what you’d wanted to since the moment your family arrived.
Your sister followed you through the dim hallways of the keep, your arm wrapped around hers. You’d knocked quietly on her door after your parents had retired, flask of Dornish red in hand and a grin on your lips. The pair of you snuck down a flight of stairs, ducking into an alcove when a patrolling guard passed by. It was a little ridiculous; you were the lady of Summerhall, you could go where you pleased without anyone questioning you, but the thrill of sneaking around made it too tempting.
Moonlight poured into the small courtyard you’d found. You hastily made for the bench, plopping down in a way ladies were only allowed to do with their sisters. She took the flask from you and drank, before passing it back.
“So, what is life really like here?”
You sighed, smiling and rolling your eyes.
“I wasn’t lying when I told mother I loved it here, and that I’m loved back. I am sure she told you what I said already.”
“Oh of course, though not without claiming that she knew you were hiding something, and that she- oh how did she put it- knew you better than you knew yourself.”
You groaned as your sister laughed, taking a deep swig of the wine before responding.
“Unless she wanted to learn of my husband’s lovemaking prowess, I can assure you she knows the truth of what happens here.”
Your sister balked, eyes wide, before erupting into giggles. You followed, grabbing at each other as you laughed. She made to catch her breath, clutching her chest, and choking out a remark:
“Oh, I can only pray to the Mother that you find a man capable of what Maekar does to me.”
Your sister paused, before quietly asking:
“And what is it that he does to you?”
You sat up quickly, wine sloshing in the glass as your eyes widened.
“Oh no, no! Fuck, mother will be so cross with me. Forget I said anything.” You gasped out. Your face felt warm, and you knew she’d be able to weasel the information she wanted out of you.
“Wow! Debauched by a man, and swearing like a sailor, who have you turned into? Don’t worry, sister, I have read many books on the subject, I am well aware of what happens in a marriage bed.”
She snatched the flask back, taking a large glug of the liquid before coughing, red dribbling out of the corner of her mouth.
“Here’s my question:”
Her hands came up palms facing each other and holding them apart at where, you assumed, she thought the length of your husband was. It had to have been more than a foot. You let out a startled shriek, burying your face in your hands as you laughed.
“What? This book about a princess falling in love with her sworn sword said that it felt good if it was that big.”
You looked up at her, eyes wide.
“Gods, girl, that would hurt.”
She was not pleased with how much you were now laughing at her. You grabbed her hands, which she had balled into fists, and gently held them up at the appropriate length.
“Huh. I guess I thought it’d be bigger, seeing the way he stands all haughty.”
You rolled your eyes.
“That is big, trust me, and it's not all about that you know.”
She scooted forward, leaning in to hear the wise words of an older sister.
“He is… romantic-”
“Really?”
You narrowed your eyes.
“Yes- don’t interrupt me. He's caring and gentle and has never said a cross word to me in all the time I’ve known him. I’ll admit, I had my trepidations about him, certainly, but he isn’t like that, not to me.”
Your sister nodded thoughtfully.
“So you really love him?”
“Yes.”
“Even though he’s not very handsome?”
You sighed.
“That's not everything, you know. And I happen to think he’s very handsome indeed.”
She made a face like she couldn’t believe what she was hearing.
“He’s also a mighty fine kisser.”
“Do you think Prince Aerion would be a fine kisser?”
The conversation changed rather quickly after that.
*****
Slowly, you pressed the door to your chambers open. The hour wasn’t late enough that Maekar would be asleep, but it had been a trying evening and you wouldn’t want to startle him.
You quickly found him, boots, swordbelt, and doublet discarded, laying across the chase by the fire. He had his feet up on the arm rest, and he was rubbing his face. Immediately, your mind went from trying not to agitate him, to finding the best way to disturb the small peace he seemed to have found. You slid your slippers off, padding across the cool stone until you came up beside him. Your hands extended as you leaned over him, intent to grab at him.
“Don’t you dare, woman.”
His voice was hoarse, and you giggled at his demand. You grabbed him anyway, pulling his hands from his face and leaning further to place a kiss on the bridge of his long nose.
Maekar groaned in mock-annoyance, but allowed you to kiss over his cheeks and forehead with his eyes shut.
“How was your evening, my dearest husband?”
He let out a groan.
“Oh? Didn’t enjoy my family then?”
“You know that's not what I meant.”
You gave his broad shoulders a squeeze.
“I know, I know. Do not fret, my love. You were the very picture of chivalry. No parent could want anything more in a son-in-law.”
Maekar huffed, but you knew it was more a sound of contentment than of displeasure.
“And the laughing?”
You paused, asking:
“...What laughing do you speak of?” Almost sure of the answer.
“The courtyard you think is so secretive, is only a stone's throw from the window of my solar. Imagine my surprise to think my sweet little wife is off abed, only to find her drinking and giggling like a girl.”
You fought a smirk.
“Oh, my sister was curious of our relationship, husband. I only sought to enlighten her. She is soon to the marriage mart, you know, it is important for a girl to know what to look for.” You said coyly, walking back to the end of the chase. Maekar’s eyes remained closed, and you slowly tugged at the ties of your thin gown.
“It sounds like I’ll have something else to apologize to your father for come morning.” He grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest. You hummed, shimmying out of your shift.
“She can keep a secret far better than I can, though I imagine her ladies maids may hear about it on her return.” You crept back to him, sliding a hand down his chest before stopping above his pelvis. Maekar shivered. It was a movement he only ever let himself do when he was alone with you. Your grin widened and you hitched a leg over his abdomen to straddle him.
“She was certainly curious about your cock.”
The Prince’s eyes flew open, and you were delighted with a look of surprise you seldom saw on his hardened face. His hands found your hips immediately, fingers digging into the fat at your waist as he tried to pull you closer. Your hands pressed against his chest, and you smirked.
“Gods, woman, warn a man.” He rasped out, lavender eyes wide as they roamed your naked body above him.
“I cannot deny, husband, that I am most curious about your cock.”
You gave him one grind of your hips before you were leaning down to kiss him. Soft, fingers gripping his chin, and then you lay your head against his chest. You heard, and felt, the contented sigh the man let out as you snuggled up against him. He slid a hand up your back, wrapping it snuggly around the back of your neck to hold you to him, as if you’d ever move.
“I was wrong, earlier. I reckon it’ll be my own wife who will be my undoing.”
The words were sharp, but they were said against your hair and ended with a firm kiss pressed to your crown. You laughed softly.
“Does that mean I don’t get Summerhall?”
Maekar snorted.
“You already have all of me, and everything of mine.”
Gently, you began to rock your hips back and forth against him. Slow, enough to feel every inch of his hard length pressing against your cunt, which was rapidly slickening. He let out a groan against your hair, his hand tightening on your neck. Your clit dragged against the leather of his trousers, making your spine arch and a delightful mewl leave your lips.
“Still curious about my cock, then?” Maekar teased, though it came out lower and slower than he meant. He reached down your body, stretching to grab the front of his leather and tug it down enough to free himself. You moaned when you felt the heat of his cock bounce up and slap against your pussy. He shifted his hips, rutting up against you. Your thighs slid together, keeping him close so that the head of his cock would press through your folds with each thrust. Your hands gripped the linen of his shirt, attempting to find some purchase to hold on to. The silver hair you loved so much, nestled around his length, tickled against your clit as he rolled his hips.
“Maekar, please, no more. I need you, fully, now.”
“As my lady commands.”
His hand slid from your hip, over your bottom to grab at his cock. He positioned himself at your opening, notching his head into the dripping hole before slowly rocking up into you. Your body arched against his chest, reeling at the feeling of being so full of him. He groped at your ass as he thrust, bouncing you gently on his lap. He kept his other hand on your neck, tilting your head up to kiss your whimpering lips. His tongue penetrated your mouth, warm and wet, before sucking your bottom lip between his teeth. You let out a sound that you were certain had only ever been heard before on the street of silk.
His cock bullied up into your pussy, a languid pace but a brutal strength behind it.
You knew if he weren't so exhausted, he’d be bruising your hips and pressing your feet behind your head. As much as you adored him fucking you with the same brutality he brought to everything, you charished the nights where he took you softer, rocking his hips against yours and kissing you tenderly. You felt yourself clench around him, and he let out a wanton moan against your mouth.
“Fuck, my woman, my heart. You will be my ruin.”
You bit the flesh of his lip, and the thrust he gave you in response sent you teetering over the edge. His name choked out from your lips, eyes squeezing shut at the sensation of stretching around him, and the grind of your clit against his pelvis. Your walls fluttering delicately around him gave way to his own orgasam. He came with a groan, sinking you down onto his cock as he unloaded into your warmth.
Maekar’s arms came around your back, one holding you firmly against him as he filled you, the other clutching the back of your head. You let out a choked sob at the feeling of him being everywhere; around you, in you, taking up the whole room as he grunted out.
Gradually, you began to come down. He lazily thrust up into you, shallow but no less potent. You knew he was trying to fuck his spend back into you, eager not to lose a drop.
You kept holding onto him, content to bask in his warmth as he stroked your back.
“My woman, you always know how to console me, don't you?” He said softly, pressing another kiss to your hairline. You nodded, sliding a hand up to cup the side of his scarred face, running your fingertips through the silver of his beard.
“Mmmm, it helps when the consolation benefits me too.”
summary: you have long wondered with your husband’s nature, just how he came to father six children. and its high time he proved it to you.
pairing: maekar targaryen x second wife!reader
warning(s): porn with little plot, rough sex, breeding kink (it’s maekar), fingering, hair pulling, biting, dirty talk, slight degradation, slight bit of spanking
word count: 3.6k
a/n: will i ever stop writing maekar with breeding kink? uhhh.. no :)) i hope you enjoy lovelies
If there was one thing more than anything else he’d been forced to endure, it was you.
Not that, but the things that had come with it, the questions and nonsense from others. And some, even worse, from you.
“For the way he acts it is a wonder.”
“Mayhaps he is just nervous.”
“Id wager he’d enjoy the idea of it.”
“But how exactly did you?” That one, was you.
Endless questioning. That was all he had heard, and it was just about enough to drive him crazy, past the point of insanity if possible.
You were no fool, he knew of it. He would not have stepped foot into another marriage let alone being forced to take a bride, if she was dimwitted. And you were far from it.
Callous, stern and prickly many called him, and yet you and what followed had wandered round him like a buzzing fly. Though it was not your company he despised, he liked that more than he could admit, but it was the mockery. For a man of his age, not old and yet not young with six children in his stead, you had been incessant in wondering exactly.
How.
He was handsome, far more than people had mentioned or cared to, striking in that fierce way. Hardened by battles and fatherhood alone. And you were captivated, and curious. And luckily for you, you were the thing, the creature, the pest that consistently managed to get under his skin.
The way you walked, talked, the way you made eyes at him across the feasting table, the way you’d so perfectly slotted into the family and how everyone, including the children adored you. For that he was thankful, truly, but it didn’t stop the fact you drove him mad.
“She is a new addition to the family, and she is fitting in quite well I should say.” Baelor countered as both men walked through the punctured halls of Maegor’s Holdfast.
“She has taken over.” Maekar muttered with a roll of his yes , stalking slowly beside his brother.
“Your senses perhaps.” Baelor replied coolly, an edge of amusement following.
Maekar slowed, squinting piercing eyes at his brother as they moved to stand over the edge, overseeing the court below where you and the children had played. Egg and Rhae had tugged at your hands, making you stand to play and duck behind the plant pots with them in small strides, with Daeron watching on. Even Valarr stood at the corner with a smile, whispering no doubt pleasantries and flattery about you. Some said you would have been more suited to one of the younger Prince’s, perhaps there would be more in common, a likeness, but even though he remained shadowed, the idea made his blood boil. A possessiveness over territory he had yet to claim.
Not a chance.
“What I mean is, she does no harm. It has been a long time since they have all looked like this.” Baelor reasoned, picking at the stone underneath his palm as he eyed Maekar.
“Around you she may not.” The grumble came fast, quick to override his brother’s words. But his throat felt dry, tacky and stuck like the words could barely come out. Like what he had heard was true.
His senses, overtaken his senses. How?
What with your cunning ways, your ability to charm and please, and weasel your way in without needing to, to be so beautiful and too good for him. It needled at him. The marriage both of you had been so blessed with was not necessity, not by anyone’s means, but yet it came anyway.
Swift and secure, as all things should be, strengthening alliance or something else they had bothered to give title.
The loss changed him, hardened him in ways that most wouldn’t be able to understand, but you had tried to. Endlessly. Attempts to break down the brick wall that was your husband became futile, and so you decided to go around him. For it was jsut as new to you as it was to him, and with him years your senior, you had expected him more forthcoming.
And yet he was not.
He was reserved and callous, moving through the halls of Summerhall like a gust of wind more than a steady hand, ignoring all of your questions insisting they were nothing but “nonsensical whims.”
But you had longed for something different. Perhaps not the chivalrous fanciful lords and their ways, but his own.. the longing looks he had given you across court, the fleeting touches at your lower back and arm when duty had warranted it. But you wanted more, you wanted him, not duty. And he had been rather intent on keeping it from you.
But one thing he didn’t deny, was that his brother may well have been right. None of them had looked like it in such a long time, nor had he felt the way he had in so long. So.. undone, having to pry himself from his thoughts, especially when you caught his gaze from across the din.
Your smile bright and curved, more like a smirk, knowing and tempting. His jaw ticked harshly, tongue pressing deep into his cheek, only for a fleeting moment before you had looked away, and his fingers had all but gripped the stone under his fingers enough to chip it.
Baelor had caught it, a single glimpse to his side and back onto you and the children again. The heat that burned from the man beside him was enough to scold and he had not lingered on the thought of what had wandered through his head.
Nor did he need to, because before pulling away, Maekar’s eyes barely left you.
His thoughts were, you.
——
The chamber was cool, years of aged stone encasing you more than you’d have liked. The day had .. wonderfully, breaking your fast with your ladies and the children, tending to them in the gardens and watching over some of their lessons, and retreating back to your ladies once more. For them you were thankful, able to wander the lower halls without question or prying eyes, and the ability to talk as freely as you wished.
“If only he wasn’t so prickly.”
“Careful, he is our Prince after all.”
“It is a miracle he has fathered children of his own at all, not near as pleasant as his brother.” Quickly followed by, “Apologies my lady, we only wish to see you happy..”
You had confided in them briefly, private chatter between you of how exactly to woo the prince, or rather atleast to accept his affections that so many had claimed to have seen. Also that so many had claimed the Prince did not have a heart to give.
But they were wrong.
Not with the way he looked you, so dark and delicate, like he could snap at any moment..
You must have made him feel green again, one had giggled, as you did.
You had asked him to visit your chambers many nights, and yet he did not, instead your maid came to you, always. She bathed you often, brought tea and a fresh pitcher of water, even sat with you a while when you had wanted it. Almost as if it had been sent for you, and for that you were thankful. But there was no sign of him.
And alas, you had had enough.
They were not wrong, you had noticed it too. Such fighting for restraint and the tension that lingered was inevitable, a livin thing that made you ache.
And so you had taken their advice.
If he will not make such a move, perhaps you should.
And you liked that idea, you liked it very much. Because out of all the talk and gossip, the questioning of your husband’s want for you was dwindling, and yet you did not give in.
Your chambermaid, Niamh, had just finished setting out the tray in the small table, a glass bowl of fruits beside a candle, a hand towel and your bodily oils. She stood straight backed and patient for what her ached body would allow, resting her arms at her middle with a small, expectant smile.
“I have run you a bath, should you require assistance, my lady?”
“That will be all thank you Niamh, you are dismissed.”
She nodded curtly, and with the turn of her heel the oak creaked behind her softly. You had waited a further few moments to let the echoes of her footsteps die out before you moved, stepping into the thinness of your laced nightgown with a devilish grin.
Because it was not the bath you were ready for.
Your steps patterned the lines of the corridors you’d mapped out for some time, every corner and shortcut that was hidden beneath stone. Maekar’s own chambers was not far from your own, a whole stretch of hall and a turn away. Every outline of jagged rock shadowed with a trail of sconces and the few tapered and coloured tapestries that hung from the walls.
Your heart thrummed harshly in your chest with adrenaline, your fingertips flexing as you clutched your arms around yourself from the cold night air. And once you arrived outside of his chambers, the feeling only seemed to grow, goose pimples trailing your skin. But with a single look, defiant and what confidence you could muster up, the two men standing vigil outside had stepped aside without protest for you.
Seemingly aware of the mission you had embarked yourself on.
The chambers were darker than your own, everything lined perfectly and sparse just as you had remembered it from your night together moons ago. The last time he had truly touched you. You stepped inside carefully, snaking yourself around the door before closing it shut with a heavy click.
The hearth warmed the room, dimming it in golds and oranges across banners of red and black. Your breath stuttered as you turned, so taken with breathing the space in you hadn’t known the figure staring right at you. And a look of confusion etching the striking, miserable features.
His robe was a dark and velveted crimson, one that wrapped to his shins and broadened his shoulders. His eyes glistened in that light, twinkling more tender than they had let on, almost enticing.
“Husband.” You greeted innocently.
“Who let you in?” Maekar spoke sharply, like the words were a bad taste on his tongue.
“Your kingsguard, very thoughtful of them.” You gestured behind you at the door as you moved further into the room, closing the gap between you as much as you could dare.
“You should be asleep,” His eyes raked over you for a single moment, rather all he could allow himself before he turned to his side, back facing you as he made for the bed, “in your own chambers.”
Your nightdress was of the finest silk, cream and a lightness that hugged your curves in the most torturous way, your hair clung to your shoulders and your skin bared.
Something he should not have seen, should not have wanted as much as he did.
“I have come to see you.”
You dared a foot forwards, planting it across the cool floor and onto the myriah carpet just at the end of the bed, a small smile peeking at your features. He had rested himself onto the edge of the bed, sitting hunched as his legs trailed far and long in front of him, shoulders sagged and tense.
“Well now you have seen. Now leave.”
But you did not, you couldn’t. He was far too close, and you had not yet begun.
You didn’t answer to that, instead you had crawled toward him on the edge of the bed, a mere arms length away.
“I have missed you.”
He only looked at you as he took a heavy inhale, a simple look, displeased and thrown. Why. You blinked up to the violets that bore into yours, a face like statue and stone. How could you. After all that was placed on you both, all the gossip and venomous words that spilled behinds backs, after how much he had attempted to keep from ruining you.
“What are you saying?”
“Well you hardly spend any time here.. with me.” You kicked your legs in front, swinging just beside his, close enough to knock together where yours didn’t meet the length of his own.
“Do not pretend to be so stupid.”
“It scares you.” You inched closely, carefully, arms reaching toward him, through the robe. And he allowed you to, legs spread wide and shamelessly as you settled yourself over him, a knee perched on either side.
“What?” He blinked up through lidded eyes, pupils blown and decisive, even if he would not speak as such. He would let you have your fun, amuse yourself and find out what you had so longed to have.
“The thought scares you.” You continued, fingers running along the collar of his robe, lining the silk just across the hem where his skin was bared. Few silver hairs littered his chest where the material opened, hard planes of pale muscle rising and falling sharply.
“What thought woman? Speak.” Maekar snapped through the quiet, impatience clawing at his skin like a fire.
“Surrendering yourself.”
He almost laughed, almost, a short incredulous huff bubbling from his throat.
“It is not my duty to surrender.”
“But it is your duty to put a babe in me is it not, the marriage was consummated moons ago and you had done so little as touch me.” Your fingers worked at his shoulders, taut muscle pulling between your nails. He stayed rigid, batting your hand away with a flick.
But you moved it back, placing it right back to where you had it.
“Do not test me.”
You could feel him there. The warmth of his breath, the burning glare that did not leave your face, the heat brushing between you through thin layers of fabric. Arousal flooded your core, and you had half the mind to bite back a moan. You had not had him like this, and he was not denying you.
“I’am not testing you.” You shrugged, hands slowly circling to meet around his neck. A brave move, even if not wise. He swore he could hear the hammering of your heart, and still see the curve of the smirk he had not from forgotten hours earlier, the one that plagued his mind.
The one he wished to wipe off of your face and take you over his lap in an instant—
“Perhaps it is more than duty you require..” Your fingers continued at his collarbones, humming dreamily at the thought. “Perhaps it is want.”
Your eyes met, bearing down into one another as your breaths mingled, your faces somehow rocked closer together on instinct, where your lips neared touching.
“Though if you do not wish for more, nor to consummate this marriage.. I wouldn’t be offended. Perhaps you are scared.. and after having so many it would be more than enough for an old man to—“
That was enough. The pure breaking point he’d sure he’d lost a long time ago. All resolve had seemed to snap with a heavy punch in his gut.
You didn’t have time to contemplate another word before he had shifted you both roughly. Long, thick fingers circled around your throat, your back shoved down into layers upon layers of silken sheets and furs. The tassels of his robe had fallen in his swiftness, bearing his chest completely leaving him only in his breeches and you had completely lost your breath.
You were pinned, folded with your legs pressed into his thighs as he kneeled over you.
“Do not anger me, girl.”
You blinked up at him, gasping at the pressure against your throat. You could smell him from there, more than before. And he was intoxicating. His scent, the smell of woodsmoke and pine, and need.
“You know well that is not it.” He gritted, glaring down at you with a gaze that made the pressure in your belly pinch hot.
“Then what is it.. mayhaps that you are older—“
The fingers tightened at your throat as he leaned down, body rising over yours as more weight anchored you down.
“Seven hells no. Tell me what you want. Say it, tell me you want this as I do, before I change my fucking mind.” The hand at your waist clamped tighter, stretching the seams of your nightgown. Your skin was ablaze, ignited under his touch and the aching deep in your core.
There was much you could have said, even struck him for making you wait so long, for denying himself of you for reasons he couldn’t even begin to name, but you had forgotten all else, raw need buzzing through your skin.
“Want you to put a babe in me husband.. want you to show me how well you fuck.”
You breathed out with a whine. And he growled, deep and beastly, like a primal instinct that could not be tamed. So guttural it sounded almost dragonlike.
His grip curled around the back of your neck, shoving you up to face him with bared teeth as he pressed himself further down, nose nudging harshly into yours.
“Good girl.”
His lips crashed to yours, fierce and unyielding, the force shoving you both back onto the bed as he bent over you. Your tongues swept together before his pushed his between your lips, tasting you, savouring and claiming all at once.
“You have driven me mad, wife.” With one hand he reached between you, unlacing the confines of his breeches in one heavy tug. They fell away down to his knees, the sharp ‘v’ of muscle trailing down to his cock defined and pulsing with vein. Even through lidded and lusted eyes you could see him, all of him. He was thick as he was long, the tip reddened with an aching blush and the beading sticky stream of precum.
Maekar waited a moment, slowing as he rose, releasing his grip on your neck, tracing his fingers over the bunched hem of your nightgown. He pushed it up, inch by inch until he brought it to your chest.
“Off.” Was all he called gruffly, and the command made you dizzy, raising your arms shakily as he snaked it off of you before tossing it somewhere to the floor where neither of you had cared to look for it.
He had longed for this sight. You had lingered long in his memory since the first time, the swell of your breasts and nipples pebbling under the cool air, the dip of your waist and curve of your stomach. The flush of your face under the firelight flickering behind you, silhouetted only by his shadow above you. Gods you did drive him mad.
And he was a fool to wait so long, to make you wait.
Hands brushed down your sides, callouses scratching along your skin as you shivered under his touch, fingers splaying over your belly and parting your thighs.
“All of this teasing.. and talk with your ladies who do not know fuck all.”
His fingers dug into the flesh of them, ignoring the way you inched downward to him, the hard press of his length just above your aching cunt.
“She must be so needy for me for being desperate like some common whore...” He tutted sharply, running a finger from your navel to your heat, slipping through the wetness that gathered over your clit and entrance. Flush crept your cheeks brazenly, hips arching instinctly as he curled two inside of you.
You moaned loudly, digits filling you at once as your cunt sucked them in greedily, rocking back onto them as he flexed them. He worked you open like that, scissoring as you bucked and humped yourself back onto his hand restlessly. And again he let you, urging you on, pumping his fingers deep while his thumb circled at your clit, letting your sticky sweetness coat his hand.
The sounds were lewd, a squelch against his palm where it filled you, motioning and massaging at your g-spot over and over until you had broke a sweat across the sheets, working yourself up with a desire that needed to be sated.
He didn’t let you finish, couldn’t, not even the satisfaction of having you come undone on him was enough. He had to have you, and there was only way it was going to happen, with having you wrapped around his cock and buried deep inside of you.
“Why the fuck did you—“ Your words caught on your tongue, dying as he angled himself, heavy length rubbing through your folds with a sickening tease. He slipped himself inside, thickness filling you with a burning stretch as you took him. His mouth moved back over yours, catching your whines and enduring the way your nails clutched at his back with a groan.
He stilled only to feel all of you, sheathed so far inside you swore you could feel him in the your belly. His cock punched deep, fingers gripped in a swarm around your hips to only anchor himself further, tongue sweeping over yours in a feverish haze. You could hardly breathe, the air punched from your lungs as he thrust inside of you, pulling out gently just to shove himself back deeper, and purposefully until stars blurred your vision.
Your thighs curled at his hips, muscle tensing and straining where he fucked into you like a man possessed, grunts muffled into the curve of your jaw as you begged and whined for him, wrapping yourself tight at his middle as he huddled himself over you. The hard bone of his knees braced at the bottom of your thighs, stretching you further for him to get more of you, your body on full display and all for him.
You tried to speak, to rise over the lack of words as your mouth parted, but it failed you, he was merciless.
“Take. It.” He rasped, rising over you to tug your legs upward, resting them onto his chest and up to his shoulders. Your husband was undone, completely. Silver flattened hair had fallen into his eyes, pale skin flushing with a sheen of sweat and desire, his eyes burning as he took you in. As if to study you so deeply and commit you to memory, finally having you in his arms, unable to spout those stupid questions and irk him further.
But it did not last long, not until he had you flipped again, this time with your face pressed into the furs, a heavy palm smoothed over your back.
“You want to know how hm?” His breath hit the shell of your ear, cock sliding over your arsecheek.
Your blood ran cold, a shiver wracking your body as fingers twisted into your hair, forcing you up along with his hips. He had you bent beneath him, his hips dragging into your arse as he lined himself up once more. You were arched up into him, breasts bunched into the mattress and your cries muffled into the sheets.
The angle there hit deeper, fuller, settling that spot inside of you with every snap of his thrusts. The sound of slapping filled your ears, punctuated only by his grunting and your moans. He tugged you back onto him where you fell completely boneless, his cock spreading you open as your arms spread wide, clutching and fisting at the pillows as you moaned into the mattress.
“This is what you wanted is it, to fuck you full..” A hand cracked down onto your arscheek and you mewled, arching your back to meet the stinging pressure. He fucked into you still, sinking in and out so deeply it was certain to kiss your cervix.
“Perhaps this will shut you up.. spilling inside of this cunt.”
Your whines became babbles, a plea of “yes yes yes” falling from your lips needily, and he gave you it, everything you desired, begged for, everything you deserved. His head fell, a hand moving over the trail of your spine, cinching at your waist to bring you closer.
You couldn’t take it.
The pair of your fell apart together, every slap of skin and pant sending you over the edge. His teeth bit into your shoulder from behind, tongue smoothing over the marks that punctured your skin.
“Please..” You whined, your walls spasming wildly around him as your climax crashed over you.
“Let go for me, my girl..” He groaned through gritted teeth, grabbing a harsh fistful of your arse as you clenched around him, your swollen cunt milking him dry as he chased his own high. He gave few more thrusts before spilling inside of you, fucking it back into you as you shook round him, legs limp beneath him.
He did not let go of you right away, pulling from you carefully, your wetness and his spend leaking from you as he rested your hips back onto the bed. A pillow was placed under your middle as he lifted you without fuss, tilting you ever so slightly downward. So it will keep. Your heart eased its hammering as your body began to rest, heavy warm arms tugging you upward and onto his chest.
The sheets were pulled over you carefully in silence, only his ragged breaths and the crackling of the hearth filling the heavy silence in the room.
“Rest.”
A hand combed through your hair, smoothing over your face as you looked up at him, and this time he found yours, and really looked. Your arm wrapped over his as his hooked under your legs, sweeping you closer, together wrapped in your warmth.
He felt you looking, and he waited, expecting another quip as per usual.
“Are you done with the nonsense now?” He mumbled, resting his head back onto the wooden headboard.
“Mhm.. maybe.” You hummed, tracing the silver hairs at his chest.
“For fucks sake..”
“I believe you’ll have to do it again.”
There it was.
The mouth that drove him mad. His arm tightened around you, but he said nothing.
Though he didn’t need to, his exhales grew harsher, his spend still dripping from you as you rubbed your thighs together, and over the hardening of his cock.
Not as duty, not as requirement, but as your husband, and the pure unrestrained need for wanting you, and how he wasn’t to deny it again.
loving taglist: @targlocket (let me know if you want to be tagged for future reference, i’m accumulating a proper taglist) 💗
reader turns down fratboy aerion because she's got a boyfriend. he tries to hit on her again later at her dorm, turns out her boyfriend is over. and who else would it be but his dad
oldschool
Modern!Maekar x Reader drabble
Note: More suggestive than smutty tbh, but I thought it was very fun to write!
“C’mon, babe, just one date. I’ll make it worth your while. You’ll be begging to ride the dragon.” You were almost proud of yourself for not stooping low enough to reply, “I already am.”
Unable to gloat, you instead fought the growing urge to pinch the bridge of your nose. Fucking Aerion Targaryen had cornered you in the library to ask you out. While you weren’t especially heartbroken about not having to continue reading Maester Thops’ account of the Blackwood/Bracken conflict, Aerion was about the last person you wanted to spend your time with.
“I am not your babe, Aerion. And I’m not interested in you. Is this about our group project in History of the Ancient Valyrians?”
“You had fuck-me eyes the whole time we–” You interrupted him with a swat of your book to his chest, though you felt yourself flushing a little. He was right, he had picked up on something. Just the wrong thing. Those looks had been aimed at your phone.
“I only paired up with you because Professor Belaerys asked me to. You don’t have any friends, Aerion, and I can understand why. You’re not my type. I’m–...look, I have a boyfriend, okay?”
He opened his mouth to protest – something along the lines of I don't believe you, you’re just saying that to get rid of me – but you used his momentary hesitation to make your getaway, stepping past him, and ignoring his calls as you returned to your dorm.
You knew you wouldn’t be alone for long. Earlier today, you’d been feeling naughty and had, after a short sojourn to the restroom, sent Maekar a picture of yourself, your top and bra drawn low to expose your tits. While he was a busy man, you were sure he could not resist bait like that.
Fucking hell, I’m in a meeting, he’d replied. You could read what he really meant between the lines. As soon as it ends I’m coming to spank your ass raw.
His glare as he crossed your threshold was all the confirmation you needed. You were in for a fun night.
The encounter with his son had all but fled your mind when he herded your body towards the bed, already in the process of undressing you, sure hands tugging at you with quiet authority.
“Where’s your cheek now, hmm?” he teased, hooking his thumbs into the loops of your jeans. “Or have you suddenly decided to be good?”
You smirked, presenting your throat like an offering. “I’m always good.”
Deciding to indulge you, he began kissing down the line of your pulse, teeth grazing and worrying your flesh. You sighed into it, knowing that he loved leaving bruises. Your hands sunk into his pale hair, mussing it from where he kept it slicked back – he insisted it looked professional.
“Fuck, yeah,” you whimpered when he found that spot at the junction of your shoulder that made you feel small and trembly, “right there.”
His smirk was something you felt, rather than saw. “I know, sweet girl.”
You were about to start unbuttoning his pants, drooling for a taste of his cock, when a sudden “What the FUCK!” had you raising your head in alarm.
It seemed that Maekar hadn’t properly closed the door in his haste to have you.
His son stood in the doorframe, gripping it as if about to faint, his face pale save for two blotches of colour high on his cheeks. “I thought you said I wasn’t your type,” he muttered miserably – though with an undertone of accusation, “and you’re here fucking my dad?”
“I was about to fuck my boyfriend, thank you very much,” you told Aerion irritably, using his father’s body as a shield from his gaze. Maekar, on his part, had barely twitched when his second youngest disturbed you. His hand remained on your ass, gripping it possessively.
“As to my type– I didn’t want to tell you like this,” you sighed, “but I simply prefer oldschool.”
Summary: You're married to Baelor Targaryen and your love language is increasing his cortisol level. No thoughts, just prayers.
The evening had gone dull. You were bored and in desperate need of your husband’s attention, and the thought of having him had been distracting you since morning. So you walked over to Baelor’s study.
Without knocking nor announcing yourself, you circled slowly behind his chair, as you had done a hundred times before, and settled directly into his lap.
“My dear—” He drew a sharp breath. But his hands found you immediately - large and certain - the span of his fingers swallowing the width of your waist, steadying you both before either of you tipped sideways.
Even caught off guard, his body knew exactly what to do with you.
And so you began your work. Thread by thread, you unravelled his patience.
You reached for the nearest document before he could recover enough to protest, unfolding the parchment with exaggerated seriousness and holding it up toward the light from the window.
“Grain inventories from Maidenpool?” You let it drop with theatrical disappointment. “Seven hells, no wonder you look miserable.”
“My love.” His voice was already roughening at the edges. “I truly must finish this, if you please.” Yet his chest remained a solid press against your back, making no effort to shift you anywhere.
You smiled to yourself and leaned forward to reach another stack near the edge of the desk. The movement was idle enough on the surface, except that it forced your back into a slow arch and dragged your weight across his lap in one long pull.
The sound he made was low and involuntary. Those large hands spread wider against your hips, no longer steadying but properly holding. Against your back, his exhale came out longer than it went in, the warmth of it pressing through the silk at your shoulder.
“Who is Lord Melcolm?” you continued pleasantly, inspecting a new letter with the grave attention of someone reading a royal decree. “He writes as though someone is actively chasing him through the halls.”
“My dear wife.” His voice dropped low. “If anyone finds us in this position again—”
“Oh, this seal is lovely.” You cut him off without turning, already reaching for a letter in dark green wax and waving it carelessly over your shoulder. The arc of your arm rolled your hips against him, and his fingers pressed into you hard enough that heat flickered low in your stomach.
“Whose house uses a heron? I cannot place it.”
A beat of silence followed, and when you glanced back at him, his jaw was set and his gaze had moved entirely away from the desk.
You shifted a bit to your left, feeling the answering hardness beneath his breeches grow more insistent with every passing moment. The fabric pulled taut in a way that made your thoughts briefly and inconveniently blank.
The movement ground your weight against him, and whatever sound he had been holding back came out quieter, pressed thin through his teeth.
Those big, veiny hands started to move their way to the curve of your hip, firm enough to leave a memory in the skin. His thumb drawing one slow stroke against the silk there before stilling. But he did not move it away. A wise instinct.
You could have turned around and devoured him. The want of it was embarrassingly persistent, pulsing low and inconvenient, and you had been sitting with it for some time. Instead you kept rummaging through the scatter of his desk, tilting one letter after another.
“Mm.” You frowned at the letter, tilting it one way and then the other. “I cannot make sense of this one at all. What does it say, my love?”
Under the guise of needing his assistance, you twisted slightly in his lap to face him, letting one knee rest atop his growing bulge. The motion felt far too deliberate to be accidental.
A silence stretched whilst he gathered whatever remained of himself. He reached to take the letter from your fingers and turned it once. His mismatched eyes settled on your face.
“That,” he said quietly, “is because you are holding it upside down.”
The mask had worn thin now. A flush had crept along the strong line of his throat, high colour against tanned skin, vivid enough that you wanted to press your mouth to it.
“Oh!” A soft, guileless giggle escaped you, and you watched the muscle jump in his jaw at the sound of it. “How foolish of me, husband.”
You set the letter aside and reached for a completely blank sheet instead. “Ah! What about this one?”
You held it up, eyes squinted, pretending to read at obviously nothing.
“It says,” you murmured, “an invitation requesting the Heir to the Iron Throne join his wife in bed, as she has grown terribly cold and increasingly impatient.”
You leaned over and pushed the page beneath his nose, close enough for your breast to press against his doublet. You tapped the blank paper like a mother teaching her son to read. “See? It says right here.”
The distance between your bodies had reduced to almost nothing now, every slow breath shifting heat between you. His eyes had gone very dark. The weight of them settling on your face with an intensity that made the room feel suddenly smaller.
His mismatched gaze dropped briefly to your mouth, then to your chest, lingering a beat too long before he dragged it back up to meet yours. A small, unguarded thing he clearly had not intended to give you.
"I believe it would be terribly unwise for the Crown Prince to deny such an urgent summons," you said, just above a whisper.
He said nothing, but the silence that followed was not empty. It sat between you thick and airless, his eyes not leaving yours for even a moment. His expression holding an answer he had no intention of saying out loud, so you gave him one in return.
You let the knee resting against him begin to move. A long, slow stroke directly against the hardness straining at his breeches. The heat of him consumed you even through all the layers in between. You felt him tense, the strong lines of his body drawing tight all at once like a bowstring pulled to its limit.
Whatever he had been holding back finally slipped through. The sound that escaped him was small and brief. His hand at your hip flexed and tightened in its wake. Then, slowly, something else moved across his face. Amusement creeping in, mixing with hunger. Like he could not quite decide whether to laugh or pull you closer. Knowing him, he would do both.
With nothing left to pretend, he set the blank parchment very carefully on the desk, smoothed it flat with one broad palm, and reached for you instead.
One strong arm closed around your waist, the solid breadth of his chest leaving very little room for pretending you had not wanted exactly this from the moment you walked through the door. The other hand curved around the back of your neck, fingers reaching into your hair, drawing you closer until your lips hovered at the edge of his.
He took your mouth at once, pressing hard at first before softening into something slower and wetter, his tongue sliding against yours until a moan slipped out before you could catch it.
Without loosening his grip, he began to grind his hardened, clothed cock against your hips. You shifted instinctively until his bulge pressed firm between your thighs. You moaned deeper into his mouth, fingers tightening in his collar, and felt him exhale hard against your lips.
The last of whatever restraint he had been clinging to all evening finally burning through. He broke the kiss to catch his breath, still holding you close, his forehead pressing against yours.
“Baelor…” you breathed, your teeth grazing his lower lip, yearning for more.
He pulled back just enough to look at you, chest rising and falling, eyes dropping to drink you in. A faint smile touched the corner of his mouth.
“There,” he murmured, watching your expression far too closely. “Now you have my full attention.”
Is it too soon to request part two of a unexpected wife? it was soo precious. we need more baelor and his little trope.
This is more of a Drabble than a part 2 as I’m trying to get through my drafts, but hope you enjoy 🩵
“Oh, thank you.” Baelor says to Visenya as she passes him a lemon cake, the man wearing your tiara on his head with your shall over his shoulders. His eldest daughter insisting he wear it or he couldn’t join the tea party. “Can you pass the tea?”
“Of course.” Visenya says after pouring tea into her toy dragons cup, a biscuit on the side of the saucer for the dragon. “Would you like the sugar?”
“I’d love some.” Baelor responds smiling when the chamber doors burst open and his youngest daughter comes running in covered in muddy water her septa chasing after her. “Maella, why are you wet?”
“I’m sorry your grace, she ran off on our way to the library.” The septa explains looking on the brink of tears. The little girl being pure chaos all day. “I tried to stop her.”
“Kepus! Look!” Maella exclaims showing her father some reeds she took from the pond. “I got you a present from the pond!”
“Oh, thank you sweetheart these are beautiful.” Baelor says tentatively taking the muddy reeds of the girl. “Why don’t you go get cleaned up then you can join us.”
-
“Maella jumped in the pond again.” Baelor tells you as he takes his doublet off, placing it on the chair before joining you on the sofa. “She also made her septa cry.”
“Again?” You ask exasperated but not surprised, the girl constantly causing chaos.
“I blame you.” He says exhausted, lying down to rest his head in your lap. Sighing in contentment when you start scratching his head. “The first three aren’t that chaotic.”
“Matarys decided to try doing archery blindfolded again today.” You tell your husband a smile on your face, Maella being just like her brother.
“Again?” He sighs, having had multiple conversations with the boy about why he shouldn’t do it. “Well Valarr and Visenya are perfect.”
You’re interrupted from your conversation when there’s a knock on the door. A guard opening the door at Baelor’s command. “I’m sorry your grace, it’s the prince.”
“What’s Matarys done now?” Baelor asks, dreading the answer.
“Not prince Matarys, my prince.” The guard says looking embarrassed. “Prince Valarr was seen kissing lady Kiera in the gardens.”
“Valarr?” Baelor asks sitting up, looking at the guard in shock. “My Valarr?” He asks again before looking at you seeing you try to stifle your laughter. “Stop laughing.”
“I’m sorry my love.” You say through giggles, knowing the boy had a crush on the tosh girl with pink hair but not thinking he’d be stupid enough to kiss her in broad daylight. “He truly is your son.”
So it may start out angsty, buuuut: how about reader & Baelor have only been married for a few months and she’s going around the Red Keep trying to get to know people and where everything is etc. But she’s so nervous, she talks a lot and it spirals from there; she starts hearing people saying she talks too much/is too much. Baelor sees she’s down and does something to make her feel better. Maybe goes Disney and gifts get her own library? I’ll leave it up to you!
I hope my ask wasn’t a lot 😬. I love your work!!!
out of place
Notes: I loved this ask thank you sm!!! I hope you enjoy :))). not proof read.
You pause your steps just outside your chambers to listen to the soft whispers from inside, only just audible through the thick wooden door.
“Oh I know you never hear the end of it!”
“If I see her in the corridor I basically run the other way otherwise ill be stuck there for hours while she pretends to be interested!”
“I heard she basically cornered the poor stable boy yesterday morning.”
“I truly do not know how Prince Baelor can deal with it. Imagine after a long day of running the realm you have to you bed and hear her yap!”
Each scathing word bought more tears to your eyes and you covered your mouth to hide the cries that threatened to break through. Did people truly think of you this way? Your feet have a mind of their own and carry you to a secluded spot in the gardens with a beautiful willow tree, your favourite place to spend time while your husband is busy, and you slump against the trunk. It’s then you let the tears fall. You bury your head in your arms and let your feelings stream down your face in salty tears and pathetic sobs.
This place, it was so different from your home. Youd been here for around 4 moons now and still you felt awkward, like someone who didnt belong there, and unsure in your every choice. In an effort to familiarise yourself with your new home you spoke with whoever your could. The maids were the first since you saw them the most and you made conversation with them as they worked, then the kitchen staff who you would inquire about their recipes and really any face that you saw frequently. Back home your family kept good relationships with the staff but its dawning on you now that perhaps that is not appropriate for a princess. You would stay under the drooping leaves of the willow tree forever, crying and beating yourself up if it meant you didnt have to go back to that grey soulless castle that seemed to want you out of it just as much as you did.
“There you are,” Baelors warm voice releases you from your swirling thoughts as your eyes snap up to him, causing his expression to shift only slightly. “I have been worried sick, and it seems I was right to be.” He moves some of the soft leaves out of his way so he may lower himself to sit by your tired form. “What is the matter?”
It only makes your cry more. “Why did you marry me?”
“Im sorry?”
“Why did you marry me? Me? Not a lady who is… is good at being such. Who could slot into this life so perfectly without hesitation.” Your words are somewhat garbled through your cries but Baelor hands on to every word.
“You do fit in to my life, more perfectly than anyone else could hope to. I married you because my heart desires only you.” He takes one of your hands in his, slightly damp from where you’d been wiping away your tears.
“I just- do you not wish to have someone more like you?”
“Where is this coming from? You were so joyous this morning, what has happened today to ruin that?” He asks sincerely.
“I heard two of the maids speaking- about me. About how I talk too much and how you must be so- so sick of me and my incessant talking. And how they avoid me so they I dont trap them in conversation.” You wipe your face far too roughly for your husband’s liking as he quickly takes over the job for you, delicately wiping the tears from your cheek. “And gods, theyre right. I just feel so out of place here. Everything is so different and- and serious… I just wanted to fit in.”
Baelor feels his heart break in real time, how had he not realised you had been hurting so much? He pulls your head into his shoulder and cradles it there letting your tears wet his doublet. After a while of thought, he speaks. “I hadnt considered how much of change it would be for you. Im sorry for not making the transition easier. As for the maids, I will deal with them.”
“Do not, they are right.” You mumble.
“Stop that. You are my wife, I love nothing more than hearing you speak after listening to dull lords speaking of grain all day. I think if you were to stop speaking id lose my mind.” That brings a chuckle from you. “Let us retire, my love, and on the morrow we can talk about making the castle more comfortable for you.”
“You dont have to-“
“Stop. I will not have you feeling out of place in your home. And even more so I wont have the nonsense those maids spoke to infect your mind. You will sleep this day off and we can adress this properly in the morning.” He speaks with such finality that you cant bring yourself to argue.
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