⤷ It did not take a fool to notice that as honourable as Prince Baelor Targaryen was, and as harsh and bitter Prince Maekar Targaryen appeared; neither men could satiate their hunger when it came to you, their sweet little wife.
⤷ warnings; mature audience, explicit sexual content, threesome, hair pulling, anal fingering, vaginal fingering, breeding kink, degradation, anal play, anal sex, rough sex, gentle sex, penis in vagina sex, sweet words and too much smut.
⤷ part two, here's part one.
For all the honourable things Prince Baelor Targaryen was hailed for, respected for; none knew the man behind closed doors, none knew of the hunger that lingered beneath his loins, a dragon born of careful restraint and endless devotion and a possession to consume the delicate flesh of his little wife.
“I said come here,” you could not find a single ounce of shame when you shuddered at the command falling from his lips, “I will not ask a third time.”
The same could be said for Prince Maekar Targaryen, as he was revered, brutal and quick to anger, commanding behind closed doors and within, fingers splayed over your back as he leaned down to whisper, “Come now, little wife. I would not keep him waiting.”
You were but a puppet at that moment, pulled inevitably by the strings wrapped around their fingers and when you finally stood before Baelor, your husband, dutiful and respectful, did not seem inclined to show you an ounce of gentleness when he roughly pulled you towards him, firm hand cupping you behind your neck, “Did you enjoy provoking us tonight, sweet girl? Letting another man speak to you so, knowing the consequences?”
“I did not—,” Maekar had moved to stand behind you, firm fingers digging into the supple flesh of your hips, “—gods, I did not mean for it to continue as it did.”
“I know,” Baelor whispered, his breath warm against your skin, “but I cannot allow such debauchery to slip away—not even for you.” His words were heavy with promise, laced with a fierce protectiveness. “You will learn what we mean when we have truly abandoned all restraint.”
Your heart skipped a beat, heat flooding your cheeks as desire unfurled like a slow, burning flame between your legs. The weight of his gaze, the intensity in his voice, awakened something deep inside you—both thrilling and terrifying in its power.
Maekar’s voice was a low growl, rough against your ear as his teeth grazed the sensitive skin there.
“Get on the bed,” he whispered harshly, the urgency in his tone tempered by a slow, deliberate pace. “Nice and slow.”
You obeyed, every movement measured as you laid yourself down, your body already humming with anticipation.
The contrast between Baelor’s gentle devotion and Maekar’s fierce command sent a thrill through you. The moment stretched taut between them, charged with promise and raw, combustible desire.
Baelor hummed softly beneath his breath, the sound vibrating against your skin like a tender caress. His hands found yours, guiding you gently closer to him. His lips brushed against yours, warm and lingering.
“I want to hear you say it,” he murmured, his voice low and urgent, yet tender. “Tell us you want this.”
His eyes searched yours—deep, patient, and full of longing. The invitation was both a question and a plea, a moment of trust between all of you.
Your breath caught as desire and vulnerability intertwined, and with a voice barely more than a whisper, you breathed the words that bound you to them.
“Yes,” and then Maekar’s hands moved with deliberate slowness, easing the dress from your shoulders. The fabric slipped away like a soft caress, leaving your skin exposed to the cool air and the warmth of their gazes. Baelor took your hand, steadying you as he guided you toward the bed with a reassuring gentleness that made your pulse quicken.
“Gods, you are beautiful,” Baelor murmurs beneath his breath.
The air in the royal chamber held the scent of sandalwood and something darker—something like ozone before a storm.
Your breath caught as Maekar’s knuckles brushed the curve of your shoulder, a touch so light it might have been imagined. But then his fingers curled under the silk strap of your gown, and there was nothing imaginary about the heat radiating from his skin.
“Yes,” you whispered. The word had barely left your lips before he moved. Maekar’s hands worked with the patience of a man who had conquered kingdoms. The dress slid from your shoulders in a slow descent, each inch of exposed skin prickling under the shift of air.
Silk pooled at your elbows, your waist, whispering past your hips until it lay in a shimmering puddle at your feet. Cool air kissed your breasts, your belly, the tops of your thighs.
Baelor drew a breath that sounded almost pained.
“Look at you,” Maekar murmured, stepping back to let his brother see. Baelor’s hand found yours before you could shiver. His palm was warm, callused from swordwork, and when he lifted your fingers to his lips, the kiss he pressed there sent a tremor straight through your wrist and into your chest.
“We will be gentle,” he said, his voice a low rumble against your knuckles. “Until you ask us not to be.”
A promise. And a question wrapped inside it.
You can only nod, your throat too tight for words, as he guides you backward toward the massive bed draped in crimson velvet.
The mattress meets the backs of your knees and you sink onto it, the fabric cool against your bare skin.
Both men stand over you, still fully clothed—leather and linen and the glint of gold at their throats. The imbalance makes your stomach flip.
Maekar unclaps his cloak first. It falls with a heavy thud, and then his tunic follows, revealing a chest mapped with scars and corded muscle.
Dark hair trails down the center of his abdomen, disappearing beneath his belt. “Just fucking look at her, such a little slut for us.”
Beside him, Baelor strips with less ceremony, shedding his garments like a man shedding the weight of a crown. His body is leaner than his brother’s, quicker, the body of a duelist rather than a brawler.
When they join you on the bed, the mattress dips on either side. You lie between them, a captive made willing, a prize already won.
Baelor’s mouth finds your throat, teeth nipping at the skin, “You'll scream for us,” not kissing—just resting there, feeling your pulse beat against his lips. His hand splays across your stomach, fingers spanning the width of your belly like he is memorizing the terrain.
“So soft,” he breathes. “Every inch of you.”
Maekar, meanwhile, has taken a more direct route. His hand closes over your breast with a possessiveness that makes you arch into his palm. His thumb circles your nipple once, twice, then presses down with enough pressure to make you gasp.
The sound is swallowed by Baelor’s mouth as he finally kisses you—deep and slow, his tongue sweeping past your lips in a rhythm that matches the lazy circles his brother traces on your skin.
Hands everywhere. Mouths everywhere.
You lose track of whose fingers are whose—only that one set slides between your thighs while the other pinches your nipple to a stiff peak.
“She’s already wet,” Maekar observes, and the clinical tone of it makes your face burn. His fingers glide through the evidence, spreading you open for his brother’s inspection. “Baelor, feel this.”
Another hand joins the first. Baelor’s middle finger traces the seam of your cunt with reverent precision, dipping just inside before withdrawing. He makes a sound of approval that vibrates against your collarbone.
“Responsive.”
The word shouldn’t make you clench, but it does. Your hips buck without permission, seeking more of that teasing touch.
“Please,” you hear yourself say.The brothers exchange a look over your body—some silent communication forged through years of shared battlefields and shared beds.
Then Maekar shifts his weight and Baelor rolls onto his back, and suddenly you are being lifted, positioned, arranged between them like a doll.Baelor beneath you, his cock hot against your belly. Maekar behind you, his thighs bracketing your hips.
“Ride him first,” Maekar says into your ear, his teeth grazing the lobe. “I’ll prepare you here.”
His slick fingers find the cleft of your arse at the same moment Baelor guides himself to your entrance. The dual sensation splits your attention so completely that you can’t form a single coherent thought.
Baelor’s tip nudges inside—just the head—and your body makes room for him on instinct, sinking down until he fills you to the root. A groan tears from his throat.
“Fuck. You’re tight.”
Behind you, Maekar’s finger circles your other entrance, pressing but not breaching. The oil he’s coated himself with is cool, a contrast to the furnace building in your cunt.
He works with agonizing slowness, circling and retreating, circling and retreating, until you rock back against his hand without shame.
“Greedy little thing,” Maekar murmurs, and pushes one finger inside.The intrusion makes you clench around Baelor, which makes him curse and grip your hips hard enough to bruise. “Do that again.”
Maekar obliges, adding a second finger. The stretch is foreign and sharp, but his brother’s weight inside you keeps you anchored.
Pleasure and pressure blend until you can’t tell where one ends and the other begins. You are full in a way that makes your thoughts go syrupy and slow.
“She’s ready,” Maekar announces, and his fingers withdraw. The emptiness is almost offensive. Then his cock replaces them—thicker than his fingers, hotter, demanding where they had been merely curious. He pushes and your body resists, and for one suspended heartbeat you think you can’t.
Then Baelor rolls his hips beneath you, a distraction that makes you gasp, and Maekar uses the opening to slide home. They hold still for a long moment, both of them buried to the hilt, and you can feel their heartbeats through the walls of your own body—Baelor’s a steady drum beneath you, Maekar’s a wild thunder behind.
Nothing has ever felt like this.
Nothing has ever been so much.
Maekar moves first.
A shallow thrust that makes you see stars. Then Baelor answers with a roll of his hips that grinds against something devastating inside you. They find a rhythm quickly—one pushing while the other pulls, a seesaw of sensation that never lets you come all the way down from the peak.
The sounds in the room become obscene. Skin slapping skin. The wet slide of their cocks working you from both ends. Your own voice, gone hoarse with moaning, chanting something that might have been their names or might have been a prayer.
“Such a dirty little whore,” Baelor murmurs, “taking us both, you'll learn that we don't share, sweet girl.”
Baelor’s hand finds your clit. His thumb presses down and circles, and the double penetration becomes triple stimulation, and your vision goes white at the edges.
“That’s it,” Maekar pants against your shoulder blade. “Take all of it. Take all of us.”
You shatter.
The orgasm ripples through you in waves, each one triggered by a new thrust. You clench around them both, and hear Maekar hiss through his teeth.
Baelor’s rhythm falters first—he buries himself deep and holds there, pulsing hot inside your cunt while a guttural sound tears from his chest. His release triggers his brother’s. Maekar drives into you one last time, fingers digging into your hipbones, and empties himself with a groan that seems to come from somewhere primal.
The warmth of it spreads through you, a liquid heat that marks you from the inside out.For a suspended breath, no one moves.
Then Baelor laughs—a low, wondering sound. “Brother,” he says, still buried inside you. “I think we’ve found broken our little queen.”
Maekar’s response is a kiss pressed to the nape of your neck. “She’ll need more training first, but she won't be making that same mistake again, will you?”
“No, I promise.”
The word training should alarm you. Instead, your exhausted body gives a traitorous little clench that makes both men groan in unison.
Baelor shifts beneath you, his softening cock slipping free. The loss makes you whimper. But Maekar hasn’t yet withdrawn, and his hand slides around to cup your throat, tilting your head back until you meet his dark eyes. “You took us beautifully,” he says, his thumb stroking your racing pulse. “But we’re not finished with you yet.”
Maekar Targaryen X F Reader, Daeron Targaryen X F Reader (part 1 here)
Tags: PnV sex, age gap, choking, bruising, fingering, rough sex, she’s a 💫switch💫, Daeron dry humping, lots of breast play, dry nursing, ?lowkey mommy kink?, she’s playing with herself, thigh cumshot, talking him through it, sub daeron, you’re honor he is crying again, “infidelity”, angsty with a side of fluff
Summary: Things are only getting better, and more stimulating, between Maekar and his 2nd wife. She’s still dutifully trying to pull Daeron into life at Summerhall but day time interaction is complicated when it is after dark the prince is truly troubled. She can only do so much without being present when he most needs her help. But gods know he is far more important than whispers in the hall
Word Count: 4.5k
A/N: I’m obsessed with Maekar and Daeron, this one was suppose to be solely Daeron but I couldn’t help but include some solid Maekar time. He just wants his son backkk🥺. Hoping to have the last part out at some point this weekend, let me know if you want to be tagged and I LOVE hearing about how hungry y’all are for these men!
You were flush in the face rocking up and down against the bed. Hands sliding back under the pillows and gripping to them. Eyes blinking rapidly up at the image of your husband above you. Jaw tense, brows pinched….but his lips were softened and slightly parted. Even he could not force a scowl in this moment. Maekar was positioned between your legs, it was quite similar to how he had taken you when he merely did it out of husbandly obligation and duty. Seven know it felt much different now then it had then! He was pounding his hips down at you. Momentarily you had thought of telling him he should have been refered to as the hammer given how expertly he was doing that to you in this very moment. You kept from making any silly quip like that, he probably wouldn’t find it as amusing as you did, but mostly you were unable to make any remark at the moment because Maekar’s thumb and pointer finger were squeezed so deliciously against the sides of your throat that a short strained breath was all you could manage.
You’d been rambling on a lot while he was laid in bed with you, it made kissing at your, now familiar to him, lips quite difficult of a task. When he gave up on that he decided to suck dark marks into your neck and against your chest while letting his thick finger drag over your cunny. But still you muttered on, with interruptions for content moans, about how Daeron’s day was. How your day was. That is how you winded up with him crushing you from above, pounding you senseless and ensuring that stained gasps were all he would hear from you until you both reached your respective climaxes.
“ahh!” Your moan was mixed together with a gasp as you sucked in your first regular breath since he had slotted within you.
Maekar was laid beside you now, flipped onto his back so he did not truly crush you. His hand laid over his own pounding chest as he calmed some himself. He was unsure if you were making him feel young or old. A bit of both. He was fucking like he had in his youth but gods know it was much more exhausting now than it had been back then.
“m’thank you your Grace,” you leaned over onto your elbow and kissed his shoulder once before your hand laid over his stomach and your fingers traced some of the scars there, focusing specifically on a large one that was close to his ribs. “As I was telling you before,” you started up again and completely missed the deep rolling of Maekars eyes.
“he agreed to come riding with me and Egg today, Daella and Rhae saw us out by the stables and they threw a horrid fit for not being invited, I know Rhae does not ride yet but I think I could convince her to ask Prince Daeron to teach her, she is very hard to say no too so I think he may give in to the request…her pretty little eyes they just make it so difficult to not bend…”you saw how he remained looking right up at the ceiling. Disinterest? Or dislike? You couldn’t tell. He was still incredibly complicated for you to read. “As I’m sure you know.” You finished and laid back against the pillows pulling your hand from him.
Maekar grunted in response and gave a steady nod. It wasn’t much. You’d been trying very hard to keep his eldest engaged in….well anything that wasn’t a brothel or a bottle. But that was proving itself very difficult because you had to tend to him all moving after he woke up from some corner of the keep or wandered back in filthy for a tavern. He wandered at night and it meant he could not engage reasonably with anybody until close to nightfall. Maekar had wanted you to see to Daeron, to help his son and you felt like a better job could be done. If your time spent focused on him occurred at other hours.
“I fear night is when he struggles husband. If I might be able to provide him company and guidance then when he seeks his poor Indulgences than mayhap he can be directed down the proper paths.” You said it quickly. Likely because you knew why you were suggesting sounded…questionable. Providing Prince Daeron company at night. Just the two of you? It was at best strange and at worst shameful towards this marriage.
“Fuck,” Maekar sat up. Sighing some from still being half spent by the coupling. He stood up from your bed and found his breeches pulling them on before he looked back at you, still wrapped slightly against the fur in the bed. “What do you imagine people would say?”
“Nothing” you responded boldly. Not backtracking right away because Maekar did not seem to find the idea outrageous. “Not if they see I am seeing to his health-instilling good values within him…brining him back to normal princely function.” Summerhall would be inherited by him one day, he ought to know how to be a functional lord or the seven themselves won’t be able to keep this hall from ruin.
“it would be in best interest.” The anvil conceded.
“Yes, in everybody’s your grace”
“You’ll not make me into a cuck girl, know that.”
You blinked, head shaking slightly. You had not meant to. You knew there might be whispers of the oddness of your visits and attention on the prince who was far closer to your age than you were to your husbands but you had no intention of making any of that courtly gossip be true.
“He is a young man…they conflate care and coveting.” He stated it like it was fact, you supposed he knew more of men’s minds than you did. Perhaps it was.
“I’ll not do anything shameful-“ you began but he raised his hand to silence you quickly.
“You’ll recall who you made your vows with, that is all. And not confuse the bodies needs with something more. mind your own head for girls conflate sex and solicitude.”
He anticipated more than just watering down of wine and seeing to his cuts and head aches or providing distraction. He seemed to even condone laying together? You’d not allowed the thought to cross your mind prior to this because you were certain Maekar might be able to see that you thought about it. About Daeron. That you noticed how Daeron’s eyes wandered to your neck and chest at the table in the solar on countless occasions that it would likely be quite easy to keep him within these walls if he had a reason to remain. Somebody to entertain him.
He was pratically condoning it…so long as you did not forget your position here, did not toss aside your duties as his wife. You did not wish to considering you have grown very fond of being his wife…being treated as his lady. The marks from his fingertips digging into different sections of your body was a reminder about how often you two fulfill your marital duties now.
You stood from the bed, legs a bit wobbly from the muscles being weakened due being spread wide and around Maekars hips for the past good while and because of your climax. You were to focused on getting your shift back on and a thick robe tied around you to notice Maekars momentary surpised expression. He hadn’t considered you would go right this moment.
The air in your lungs slowly departed when you felt his hand touch the middle of your back and his calloused fingers moved up until they grazed the back of your neck. You looked at him through the looking glass you were stood before, eye nodded as his fingers stretched to wrap to the small column at the front of your neck and he rubbed softly there.
“Maekar,” you reached up to rub his firm forearm as if wrapped over your shoulder. “I need not do this.” You did not want to shame him. He had been kind to you…perhaps this was a poor choice.
“you are the only one he listens too, you must and you will” He said before letting your throat go and leaving the room entirely. It gave you a moment alone, a second to wrap your mind around what had just been decided-or what you’d just received permission for should things lead to it. You weren’t entirely sure if Maekar was going to find enjoyment in you whoring yourself or if he truly was just desperate to not lose his eldest entirely.
By the grace of fate you had slipped into the hallway to make your way toward Daeron’s rooms at what seemed to be the perfect time. As soon as you turned the corner you saw his long dark cloak clipped over his shoulders and hood pulled far over his head as he closed his chamber door.
“A shame, have you been called on some terribly important task My Prince, I could not sleep and was hoping you might keep me company?”
He outright jumped at the sudden appearance of your voice, turning slowly and sighing as he saw you. “Has my father bid you to pace the halls incase I attempt to leave?” He was not that dumb, he knew you had taken more time than any poor soul should and concerned yourself with his health and days. “If he has you should know that task is beneath you.”
“might I come in?” You motioned to the door. “I’ve not dragon blood in my veins to warm me these halls are much too cold for me.” You pull your robe around you some more and notice his eyes watching your fingers tighten around the fabric.
Darron’s paranoid gaze swoops from side to side in the hall and then back to you. His father wife, the women he is sure Rhea would mistakenly call mother one day should you remain this embedded in all their lives.
“please, don’t you find it lonely when you cannot rest?” All he needed was a second request to shift his weight to the side and allow you to push into the doorway.
Sadly his room looked a wreck again, which was disappointing considered you’d ensured he was out of his chambers for long enough that the maids could actually get in and change the bedding, draw open the curtains and let some air in from outside.
“Daeron,” you frowned glancing back at him and then shook your head stepping towards his bed and kneeling at the edge of it to grab the empt flagon of wine off the sheets. “It’s no wonder why you are so unhappy.” You sighed and returned the intricate case to the table glancing down slightly at the various other drinks he had set there. “Surly there is something you enjoy doing that is not related to wine.”
He laughed, dryly and his hands raised to lazy to actually shrug his shoulders so his hands made the motion.
“When you were a boy what did you like?” Clearly it was not swordplay…or likely horse riding based on what you’d witness today, egg has more confidence in his trot than his oldest brother did!
He slumped down onto his bed, laid across the width of it cloak still bunched behind him and you watched as he fumbled his boots off with his own feet. Good, you smiled, he was going to stay.
“I liked swimming,” you shared a fond boogie smile pulling to your lips. “I would just die if it was sweltering out and I was trapped in lessons or stuck learning new prayers.” You recalled. “My mother would take me sometimes…find some poorly strung together excuse for why she needed me at that very moment and the next thing I knew I’d be rushing down through the tall grass towards the pond that was just beyond our hall.” Your smile was so soft, tone gentle and something about it had made Daeron’s pay more attention. Laid still flat on his back but his eyes open and thoughts focused.
“did you remain with your nan enough to read well?” He turned onto his side, propping his head up with his arm.
“Yes, of course Daeron.” You sighed a bit, thinking he was making a jest at you but he was genuinely asking. Listening to you tell this story, it had reminded him of something.
“I liked being read to.” Your exasperation melted away instantly and you looked over your shoulder seeing the large dusty bookcase.
“I could read to you now maybe it will help us both find rest?” You suggested and waited for him to nod. His eyes did not meet yours. They stayed gazing lazily down at the bedding he laid over and he did not look up again until your weight dipped at the end of the bed. A large storybook in your hand.
His mother would read to him, for hour until he would no longer be able to fight sleep.
Your back rested against the light wooden post at the end of his bed and your ankles crossed as you laid the book out over your shirt covered thighs and began to read from the first page.
You were only a hour in when his fingers flexed against his face and his arm dropped slowly down to touch your ankle.
You flushed, not because he touched your ankle but because of the realization that Maekar had correctly assumed where things would lead. It had your throat getting dry and your words faltering for a moment.
“Continue” Daeron sad blue eyes bore into yours and you swallowed. Visibly enough that he added “please” it was so low you could barely hear it but at the same time the message of desperation was shouting at you.
You nodded, barely lowering your chin and then continued. The more you read the closer he got. Hands shifting under the hem of your skirt and just tricking against your soft skin. He never ventured further then your knee, but your had un crossed your legs so he could rest his cheek over your narrow ankles and hold softly to the underside of your knee. It almost tickled because his touch was so light, so soft. His hands were nothing like Maekars, there wasn’t a callous to be felt, gods know there was no reason for Daeron to have developed any.
You had never seen him this calm, it was almost as if he was in a trace. For a moment you had considered making up new words, something, anything because the story ended on this page and you did not want to ruin his calm state.
You closed the book slowly after the final word and when you did his face turned a bit and kissed your ankles, lips half on the hem of your shift and half on your honey scented skin. You leaned forward a bit, still firmly sat, but your hands could reach his sandy hair, pushing his tangled locks back so you could see his face better.
Was that…oh gods. “What’s wrong?” You cupped his face brining him up from your feet some. “I’m sorry, I-“ perhaps reading as his mother had was to much-to painful of a memory. He was crying. Softly, there was skin sniffling or shoulder shaking, just liquid dripping from the corners of his eyes.
“it’s wrong.” He breathed, like he was trying to keep himself from saying more. Which was made harder by how your thumb rubbed at his stubbly cheek.
“it’s not” you said seriously “whatever you feel it is not wrong Daeron.” You told him seriously making him look you in the eyes. You diddnt realize he was hard until you made him come sit beside you and tucked his head on your shoulder. “I can read something else, whatever book you want.” But he shook his head.
“You shouldn’t.” He breathed closing his eyes. “You should leave this room.” He urged you but his tone said different and the way his hand had wrapped across you to hold at your side really said otherwise.
“Daeron let me help you.” You press and turn a bit so you both are face toward one another a bit more. “Go lay down.” Tou urge “properly…please you need rest not to run off the moment I leave you to go drown in a bottle.” That moment he crawled to the head of the bed and unclipped his cloak. You took your time returning the book back to where I belonged on the shelf and then taking your robe off laying it over a chair. You’d really not intended anybting truly untoward happening. Yes being in his room alone and at night warranted whispers but you would have known it was nothing.
He just looked so lost. So uncertain. Tiered. Scared. You wanted to take care of him, to see him smile, see his situation within this family be better. Maekar loved him-but he had no faith in him. If you could just guide Daeron toward living a more well adjusted life than maybe he and his father could repair the issues between one another.
You wanted to take care of him. He was to sweet not to be looked after. You’d seen it in fleeting moments, how he spoke with his siblings, or thanked a maid. He just needed new avenues that wandering in cities and frequenting ale houses.
Semleesly you slipped into bed beside him and sat up a bit against one of the pillow. He was lower, closer to your stomach and you gently lifted his arm to pull it across your waist. Brushing his hair fully back with your fingers.
“None of this fleeing any longer-it scares me.” You told him. Voice serious and leaving no room for argument. He responded well to those sort of directions. “You can come to me now when you need something…need some sort of distraction or entertainment.” Your hand stopped at the back of his head and gently made a fist pulling his head up as you pulled your arm back towards you. His lips parted with a groan and you felt him lean his knee over yours, splayed half over your lap breathing heavy and eyes wide. But he was nodding.
“do I need to come in here every night and see you are safely in bed?” You asked your own chest rising and falling deeply as his nose poke into your breast. “Do I Daeron-answer.” You tugged a bit brining his head back.
“Y-yes.” The tears were back. “Yes…I need you to see me to sleep.” He finally admitted voice full of lust but also truth. You brought him comfort. There was no way around it. “I do what you want m’to.” He said as you kept him a few inches back.
“Good, now stop crying Daeron, you’re alright. It’s okay.” You loosened your grip on his hair and instantly his face crushed against your chest. Head pressing to the space between each breast just laid there warming you. Even with the weight and heat your nipples peaked like you were out in whipping wind. His hips weren’t rutting, you assumed he was much to unsure and ashamed to do that but they did shift ever so slightly. He probably was quite uncomfortable being in his trousers while his cock grew.
“I don’t want you in pain.” You whispered in his ear one hand cradling his head and the other rubbing up and down his back. “Take your trousers and breeches off so you’ll be comfortable.” You instructed him and chuckled a bit at how his face dug into you since his hands were quickly pushing the fabric at his hips done. You whimpered a bit when his cock was freed and you felt the sticky tip touch your thigh. You still were in the shift but it was hiked up slightly from getting into bed.
A greedy part of you wanted to see it. A even more shameful bit of you wanted to compare him to his father. Daeron and you would have been a more suitable match…you were only a few name days older than him. But the king had thought Maekar needed you. You suppose he had if this was the kind of attention his son needed. A warm, maternal hand.
You pushed his shoulder back so he was laid against your arm leaned back on the same pillow that was behind your back and you gently trialed your fingers up and down his jaw and neck. His eyes were closed, quite tightly, which meant you didn’t even flush when you looked down at his lower half. Taking in his cock. He was quite long…and seemed to be streching even more. Your stomach clenched at the thought. He would feel deeper than Maekar did. You imagine it’d be a lot easier for you to devour him in your cunt or mouth though because although he was inches longer his day he had him beat when it came to girth. The strech is what made things complicated with your husband, what made it so he needed to hold you still and talk you through the fleeting moment of discomfort no matter how aroused you were when he began to slot himself inside.
“I need…I need to-“ Daeron’s eyes started to open and you quickly sunk down a bit kissing his jaw.
“shhh, you don’t need to do anybting.” Your hand rubbed where you had kissed him and then your finger rose to his lips tracing over the shaking bottom lip. “You can go to sleep, if it calls to you…I’ll be right here.” You promise him gently guiding his head closer to your chest and you reached up pulling your sleeve down and his arm that was still squeezed over your waist assisted with a small tug that relaxed your tits to him. Colored with a few bruises from Maekars eager groping a few days prior but other than that silky and soft. Warm and inviting.
Inviting enough that the prince laid his head against one and licked ay the other.
Your heart thumbed hard but things diddnt feel crazed and frantic. It was all gentle and slow. Just as Daeron needed. When he began to smarten to how he should truly do this his mouth opened, wider than you imagined it should and he sucked your nipple into his mouth. Kneading the flesh with his lips and tongue. You whimpered at the feeling, your nipple getting suctioned back against his tongue and you whispered words of encouragement. It sounded close to the lullaby because it was truly that gentle.
You were being very still, it felt like one move might startle him and so you diddnt realize how aroused you were until you smelt the familiar scent of sex. One of your fingers dripped from him to the spot between your legs and your rubbed gently, unable to help yourself especially as Daeron began to suckle at the other breasts.
“Such a good boy…” you whisper eyebrows knitting up when you felt his lips release your nipple. It was already peaked and close to purple but you pushed his head back down. “Keep going.” You urged him. He looked beyond drunk, but he hadn’t had a sip in hours and so you knew he was in this state just form consuming you. There was a small bit of pride that daerons reaction to you and the admiration in his eyes grew within you.
“I’ll help you, I promise Daeron” you told him again but you meant it more this time. You meant it for reasons outside of simply bastardizing the duty of being his father’s wife, being the lady of summerhall. You wanted to ease his poor torn soul.
He was shaking while you began to breathe far heavier. Nodding up at you with his mouth full of your soft flesh one of his hands were still over your side holding there but the other had cupped under your heavy breast to keep it lofted to his mouth.
“I’ll…” you moaned, voice airy as your finger circled your clit a bit faster. “I…gods-I’ll take you care of you Daeron.” You swore as you tipped over your peak. Whimpering now because your nipples suddenly felt far more sensitive in his eager mouth.
When you open your eyes and the blurriness disperses from your vision you look down. He was humping against you and your shift. Recklessly, without any word.
“There you go…cum for me. You’ll feel better.” You whispered to him nodding and stroking the back of his head and now cupping his cheek. His teeth bared a bit against your nipple and he had to let go of it entirely. “Shhh…it feels good doesn’t it Daeron?” You hummed and held him against your chest as he whimpered helplessly. “Mm, you going to spill yourself all over my shift hmm?” He nodded quickly and his hips jutted faster at you. His pale ass rising up and down and you bit your lip feeling his throb into the side of your leg. “You are, come on now it’s alright…cum for me.”
…and gods did he.
His seed was so warm you gasped from the scorch and his arms both bound around begging nonsense into your neck as he came.
“thank you…thank you…thank you.” He didn't stop chanting it until his body had given every drop to you and he sunk down against your side limp and exhausted.
You felt so good hearing his little whimpers and thanks that you almost reached down to rub your bud again. He was thanking you for making him cum? You’d hardly done anything-but it had been exactly what he needed. A soft touch and a warm beacon for direction.
You slipped from his bed and removed the sticky shift opting to just tie your robe back around yourself. Noticing how your nipples swelled from Daeron’s lips and feeling the tenderness of throat from Maekars hands. As you found a cloth to clean Daeron with and arranged the pillows and blankets for the half asleep prince you smiled, unable to not think that the king may have blessed you more with this marriage than even he had imagined.
“I’ll stay here until you’re good and truly asleep, and then I need to go. Clean myself and sleep before your sisters slip their nans and find me much too early.” You told him knelt at his bedside playing with his hair.
“Might I join you tomorrow?” He said drowsily.
“With what my sleepy prince?” You tilted your head as you smiled, thumb gently rubbing under his bloodshot eyes to ease them closed.
“With whatever you may do m’lady.” He received a nod and a gentle kiss to his temple.
Maeker enjoys very few things, but you his wife is something he will always enjoy
Targaryen!reader x Maeker Targaryen
Word count: 1,825
CW: MDI, 18+, arranged marriage smut, professional brat tamer maeker targaryen, targcest, oral (f!reciving), established relationship. As always half proof read! slight talk of childbrith, and some exhibitionism. a lot of swearing - its there love language , so is bickering as foreplay.
authors note: read as standalone or read the prequal here
Maeker had very little patience in life, he found frustration in everything. But one thing he had found he could tolerate was you.
Of course, at first, your very presence annoyed him, he did not need a second wife, especially when that wife happened to be the very niece who had spent most of her life annoying him in everything she did and found great joy in it, too.
The marriage had been arranged after your return from the free cities, returning all grown and all the more Eger to annoy the uncle she had not seen in a decade, and yet that annoyance had somehow turned into him, bending you over a desk, his aim to spank your disobedience out of you, only for him to somehow find himself buried in your tight cunt.
Your father walking in on it had led to a marriage, a quick one, luckily, as your belly had quickly swelled, and not nine moons after your arrival home, you found yourself birthing a silver-haired babe, whom you named Aegon, or Egg as you fondly called him.
Nine years later, and two more children, you had settled into your life as Maeker's wife with ease you had never expected.
His sons had become the main annoyance in his life, and you, his pretty wife, who had once loved to goad him more than anything, and still did, though he had grown to adore it, was now the one thing in life he no longer detested.
He had a set routine, wake up, admire his wife, spank her when she comments on his age, go to breakfast, be annoyed at his sons and then go about his day thinking about when he would next get to have his favourite meal.
You.
How he loved to bend you over and feast on your cunt, his greatest stress relief.
Any minor inconvenience, and he found himself falling to his knees and burying his face in your warm heat.
A meal he had been without for two weeks now, as he travelled to the stupid tourney at Ashford at his father's behest.
He had left you and regretted every second he wasn’t by your side, a fact that annoyed your father and brothers greatly, not just for the fact that he spoke of you at every turn, but for the fact that without you here, everyone and everything seems to personally offend him.
Their annoyance at him grew even more so when he learnt his sons had gone missing.
“Fuck me”, he exhaled, his anger ever present “Delayed… they're not delayed”, he rolled his eyes at lord Ashfords stupid theory.
“Do not curse our gracious host,” his brother, ever the perfect prince, said.
“I said 'fuck me', not 'fuck him', it’s not his fault our father bade us attend this miserable circus”
“Might we discuss this another time?” Baelor spoke, trying to move on from Maekers ever growing frustration.
“No, we cannot, you try telling my wife I lost her son, she’d have my head” A frustrated hand fell across his face, and a small chuckle echoed from Baelor's lips.
“I say we go hunting”
“Daeron has done this before…” The words faded into the background as he looked out of the window to see another arrival of House Targaryen at the tourney.
“They’ve only been missing a day, no doubt…” Baleor's words once again faded as he caught sight of your unmistakable silver hair, hair he had so many times wrapped around his hand.
“When the tourney is over, perhaps”, he dismissed, slumping in his chair, waiting for you to show and release your wrath. You had no doubt heard of their disappearance, how he was unsure, but you had always had a way of knowing everything, dragon dreams you claimed. He called it a freak of nature.
A strange hedge knight showed before you did, though your footsteps loudly echoed through the castle before whatever the half giant half man finished his rambling.
“Very well set, you are grateful. Now fuck off!” Maekar demanded, just in time for you to storm into the room.
“Why the fuck have I just learnt that my son is missing?” You questioned your voice, echoing that of a raging storm.
“You must forgive my brother and daughter, their sons have gone astray, and they fear for them”, Baelor, always the peace, Maekar pleaded.
Ser Dunk, or whatever his name was, looked at you, bowing his head and speaking softly, clearly trying to offer some comfort, “of course. Umm, I trust they will not be found dead”
A scoff left your mouth as you looked at your husband, a glare on your face.
“Who the fuck was that?” you asked after the knight had left, your glare still fixed on your husband even as you made yourself comfortable in a seat across the room from him.
Your father sighed, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose, something he often did when left in the same room alone, as you were too.
“A hedge knight,” he replied, a sigh leaving his lips, “you are meant to be at home,” he sighed, before looking at your husband, who had not taken to marching, the glare stuck on your face.
“Fuck sake”, Baelor spoke as he rose to stand, a deep sigh escaping him, I shall leave you to whatever kind of foreplay this is”
Leaving the room, you found yourself alone with your husband after two long weeks.
He had left a week before you did. Your father was right in the fact that you were meant to be at home, the last tourney you had attended did not go well, to say the least, and since then, you had been “strongly discouraged” from attending another. And then there was the fact that you had been ordered by the maesters not to travel so soon after your last child's birth. A fact you had made clear was ridiculous, and made no plans to follow, and clearly haven't.
“How did you get here so fast?” Your husband questioned, his gaze less of a glare.
“I rode!” You scoffed, “obviously”
“Don’t take that tone with me, wife”
“I’ll take whatever tone I want with you!”
“You aren’t supposed to travel, let alone make a two-week trip in a week!”
“How did you know I did it in a week?”
“I didn’t”, he gloated, his eyes hardening. He moved to stand up and prowled towards you. “Did you miss me? Wife?” He spoke as he approached, your chest began to rise and fall, and the blush that began to creep up your neck at the heat in his eyes.
“Suppose I did, what does it mean to you?” Your hands reached for your skirt, moving it to bunch around your hips. A groan left his lips at the sight. Your legs parting, revealing the slick between your legs.
He fell to his knees before you, his hands reaching for you as if you were the answer to all his prayers.
“My pretty little wife”, spoken like a prayer “, you missed me, didn’t you?” he cocked his head, his hands reaching to part your legs more, your cunt on full display for him.
“Your hand reached for his, guiding it to where you needed him.
“Two moons cooped in Summerhall would drive anyone mad”, you began, as Maekar’s finger circled the bundle of nerves that had been neglected for two long weeks.
A moan escaped your lips, “your presence was the only thing that made it bearable” Another moan echoed as his mouth finally descended on your cunt.
Your hands reached for his hair, pulling slightly as his face buried itself in your cunt, his tongue swiping up the length of your slit.
“Gods Maekar”, you moaned, your eyes flittiering the the archway of the room, anyone could walk in at any point, there was no door granting them privacy. And with the way their conversation carried early, you were sure the entire castle could hear you.
A thrill riffled through you, a desire to get caught. Just as you had so many times before. Maekar had never been able to keep his hands to himself when it came to you, and neither could you.
Maekar's tongue lapped at your cunt like a man starved. He savoured the taste of you, worshipping you as he lapped at your heat, his fingers twitched slowly towards your cunt, entering you in one rough motion as his mouth moved to suck on your clit.
Your moans echoed across the room, his fingers matched the pace of your tongue, fucking into you leisurely, as he savoured every second he had feasting on your cunt.
“Fuck, please”, you begged. You could feel your peak approaching, but Maeker loved to tease you, his fingers pulling from you slowly, your peak retreating as quickly as it approached.
“Say you missed me”, his voice muffled slightly, as he remained buried in your cunt, a long, slow and teasing lick placed across your slit.
“Never”, you breathed, your hand reaching to tug his hair towards your heat.
He moved back, you both groaned as he denied you the pleasure you both craved so deeply, “say you missed me, or I stop,” he teased, his finger circling your clit, in a way that gave you no relief to the ache in your core.
Your scoff echoed as your moan did, you slumped form striaghting in your chair as you tugged Maeker back to where he belonged, your cunt.
“fine…I missed you, now make me come”, you ordered, your grip on his hair only tightening as you pulled him against you.
Your legs wrapped around his head, so tightly you weren’t sure he could even breathe.
His tongue lapped your heat, your peak approaching faster than before, his tongue fucked in and out of you, his nose nudging your clit in perfect rhythm. Every nerve was on fire, your body filled with endless pleasure as you finally came, your body slumping back as a loud moan tore out of you, so loud you were sure the endless crowd of knights outside could hear.
You slumped black in your chair, your legs collapsing and your hand losing around Maekers hair. He collapsed against you, his hand reaching for yours as he breathed you in.
A moment of silence passed between you, your breath catching up to you.
“Seriously, Makeer were the fuck is my son?”
“How the fuck should I know?” his head was still leaning against your body, his fingers playing with the rings of your fingers.
You yanked on his hair again, forcing him to look at you, “well you better get up and find out” tugging his hair one more time, and placing a soft kiss to his lips, before pushing him from your lap and storming off.
“I missed you too,” Maekar shouted as you tossed him your middle finger.
Moreover, Ryan Condal (allegedly) originally pitched akotsk but had to settle for hotd because hbo told him "no" for once in their useless lives. And thank god for that because I dont think I could sit through Maekarlings having weird sex dreams ft Dyanna Dayne.
