Aerion as a toddler made his parent's life a literal hell. Not only was he bratty, but also so incredibly unmindful of his studies, training and what was proper and what wasn't. He often talked too much and that without a filter, especially to his siblings, so it wasn't uncommon for Maekar to give him a smack to the back of his head as a warning to straighten up again.

Oh and this kid couldn't be trusted with a weapon in his hand. Even when he was still training with a wooden sword, he'd try to beat Daeron up and would chase him around the whole castle ground whenever he tried to run away. And if these things were brought up now, Aerion would just scoff and laugh, waving it off: »I don't know what you're talking about. You're exaggerating.«

He was the sole reason his father aged ten times faster — The man prayed to the gods above to give Aerion a son who came after him when your pregnancy was announced.

First and foremost, the prince was thrilled and head over heels when you delivered a healthy baby boy (and you had to immediately tell him that you were not going to let him name it Maegor), but the excitement quickly wore off when the first two weeks of constant night terrors went by. Your babe wouldn't scream and cry almost every night and Aerion thought he'd go insane if he had to sleep in the same room another night more. »By the gods, what could possibly be bothering him now?« he groaned, watching you lift your son out of his pretty little crib and carry him to your bed. »Fuck no,« your husband looked at you like you just murdered his family, »don't take him here? My ears are already ringing from his crying.«

The baby phase was possibly the worst, especially when you forced him to take care of his child for a bit while you were taking a bath, for example — Not only would his son scream the second he got handed to his father, he would also not stop trying to bite him.

It did kind of bother Aerion that your son was such a sweetheart when he was with you, but turned into a tiny little beast when he was with him. It hurt even more, because the child was a carbon copy of him — Silver-white, beautiful silky hair, purple-ish eyes, his exact same frown, laughter... though, his side profile resembled yours. Aerion was convinced you gave birth to the most beautiful Targaryen who ever lived, with such a brave attitude and the same fire in him that he had, but he seemed to hate him.

»Boy, don't bother your father now.« you had to call out from the other side of the room over and over again. Your son, a toddler now, just wouldn't stop trying to hit Aerion with his toy sword.

»Papa, look! Hey look! Look, I'm a dragon!« Aerion humored him and leaned down to look at his son try to imitate a roar and look intimidating... and then it dawned on him that the new generation of Targaryens was (quite literally) losing the ancient texts. No, there was no way he wouldn't properly teach his son about the history of House Targaryen, about every king and queen who has ever lived and why exactly they are superior to other houses. Obviously, your son's role model was Aegon The Conqueror.

Just like his father, the child was obsessed with the tales of old times the maesters would tell him about. Times where his house was much greater, times where Targaryens ruled over the Seven Kingdoms with their dragons — His favorite thing was when his father would tell him a bedtime story about those fantastical creatures and his question would always be the same: »And where did the dragons go now?«

You had to smile every time you saw your two boys bond over a same interest. Aerion was truly just raising a mini version of him, with a much bigger fighter spirit, though.

»Hm, he sounds just like you.« you murmured to your husband while the two of you watched your son try to challenge a knight of the Kingsguard. Aerion just looked at you: »Well, I'm glad he has your kindness.«

Featuring: Aerion "Brightflame" Targaryen, Valarr "The Young Prince" Targaryen, Daeron "The Drunken" Targaryen, Baelor "Breakspear" Targaryen, Maekar "The Anvil" Targaryen

This work contains: nsfw, p in v sex, unprotected sex, cowgirl position, fem!reader, established relationships (wife!reader), some dirty talk, mentions of getting pregnant / creampies, lots of groping and touching, all of them are very sweet tho (even Aerion (kinda)), not proof read, english isn't my first language

Speaking...: this was lowkey done by a different person already, but this idea is too good not to use. Also I just realized I can't even watch episode 5 because hbo doesn't exist in türkiye.. this is probably the first time I wanted a vacation to end bruh

It's not suprising that Aerion's favorite position is cowgirl, not excluding reverse cowgirl either. The young prince loves to be in control, don't get him wrong, but when you framed the idea as "riding him like a dragon", he was all for it. He'll have his pretty little head rested against the wooden headboard of your shared bed, dirty words leaving his mouth non-stop that bounced off of the walls of your chambers as loud as he wanted to — When you, his beautiful wife, were on top of him, Aerion forgot the word "embarrassing". His favorite thing was to dig his nails into the fat of your ass to make you bounce quicker on his cock, grinning and smiling like an idiot when you pressed your hand on your mouth to keep quiet. He'd immediately grip your wrist and try to get you to stop so that all of King's Landing can hear how happy he really made you. »You can go faster than this, can't you, love? Come on, put in some effort.« was such a typical Aerion line, but the Targaryen just looked so perfect with his white-silver hair glowing in the candlelight and his eyebrows scrunched up in pleasure that you couldn't do anything but oblige.

Valarr, being the sweetheart he is, always says he wants to take care of you and would bend over backwards if it meant you were comfortable — He's definitely the most humble one out of the Targaryen's and you were so happy he was your husband. Though, of course, the urge to take care of him from time to time and to ride him silly was sometimes greater than the need of getting pounded into the mattress by him. After Valarr asked »Wait, are you sure?« a thousand times, he agreed to let you be on top once.. and the second you slowly and teasingly lowered yourself onto his length he asked himself why he didn't let you do that sooner. It's like his pupils turned into hearts when he looked up at you through his long lashes, looking practically hypnotized by the way your breasts bounced with every movement you made, right in front of his face. Valarr felt his face get incredibly hot and flushed and even though he really wasn't doing anything, he was out of breath — The loud whimpers and small moans of your name on his tongue were enough to let you know you were doing a good job, though.

Even though Daeron's favorite position was something completely different, the fact that he was often too drunk or too tipsy to function left you no other choice but to get on top of him (not that you were complaining). The prince loved to do nothing at all and stay up most of the night just to avoid having those weird dreams again, so his preferred way to pass time was to feel you up and charm his way into your underwear. You'd often lean down to press a kiss onto your husband's lips while you ground your hips against his, feeling the tip of his cock constantly bumping against your sweet spot, making you moan into his mouth. Oh yeah, Daeron really loved doing nothing at all other than grope your tits, leave hickeys all over your collarbone and watch you getting yourself off on his dick. The alcohol in his bloodstream made him feel every drag of your pussy ten times more intensely and made the sound of your moans even sweeter than they already were. »Mhm.. you drive— me crazy..« he'd mutter, basically to himself, as he snaked his arms around your waist and pulled you down against him again. Wow, from this angle you looked like an angel, sent from the seven above...

Oh Baelor, I could write poems about you.. Well, we all know he is definitely husband material, someone who'd literally do anything for his wife, and that also definitely shows in bed. Whatever you say, he'll do it — You wanna be on top? With pleasure. Baelor prefers intimacy over pure lust first and foremost, so you can be sure he'll be doing the most just to have you in his embrace. His beard felt scratchy against the side of your cheek, contrasted by the soft kisses he peppered all over your face and neck. He always made sure you knew how loved you were by him, so encouraging words and small grunts to let you know how good you felt went straight to your ear. But, honestly, you couldn't even really feel those or hear the sweet nothings he raspes into your ear due to how fucked out you were. Hiis thrusts, meant to help you once you got tired, were rather shallow and slow, but the feeling of Baelor bottoming out inside of you was enough to make your legs quiver. Your husband's strong hands caressed the flesh of your ass, slowly lifting your hips to slam you back down on his cock again: »Going to give me another babe, will you?«

It was obvious where Maekar's children got their attitudes from (especially Aerion) — Oh you want to top? Fucking finally, now he gets to rest for once. Best believe this man will be having the time of his life, hands behind his head while he enjoyed the warm, plush pillow and the view of you from beneath. Cut him some slack, he has literally so much to deal with, he really appreciates it when you pamper him. You always look so graceful in the way you move, dragging your hips forward and backward while he was balls deep inside your pussy, trying so hard not to immediately spill his seed inside of you. And when you'd get impatient and start bouncing on his cock like a lunatic, Maekar would almost always hiss and immediately grip your hips to make you stop: »Fuck, slow down, love. I'm not going anywhere.« he'd say, followed by a string of other curse words the second you started to grind your hips agains his again. The Targaryen would never admit it out loud, but this genuinely was his favorite way to be intimate with you — Use him as your personal toy, he doesn't care.

Pairing: Valarr "The Young Prince" Targaryen x wife!reader

Summary: After a political betrothal and a beautiful, prosperous wedding, you and your new husband were granted a few weeks of alone time, a sort of honeymoon, at Summerhall. Turns out you like him more than you thought you would.

Inspo: Summerboy — Lady Gaga

This work contains: 2.2k words, nsfw, p in v sex, unprotected sex, creampie, kissing/making out, fingering kinda?, inexperienced!Valarr and inexperienced!reader, missionary position, talk about heirs/children, both of them are definitely in love with each other, softdom!Valarr (he's so dear to me), reader is from an unspecified noble house and has no specific physical features (except for female anatomy), not proof read, english isn't my first language

Speaking...: it's wednesday and I haven't even watched episode 5 yet bc I've been so busy... blasphemy. Also I think I forgot how to write good smut💔

»I vow to love and care for you until we grow old.« was the first thing your new husband had said to you once you were left alone in your new, private chambers.

Marriage to you was all about gold, power and alliances, yet you were pretty excited to find out your betrothed was a Targaryen. The heir of the heir. You've only ever heard good things about Valarr — about how dutiful he is and how he's much like his father. Everyone always speaks of a kind young man when describing him... someone who apparently hasn't fallen victim to the curse of every new Targaryen being born more mad than the last.

But, again, it was all about gold, power and alliences. You were only granted to see him once before the wedding and after that you were shipped off to King's Landing permanently.

It was as they said — Valarr was very responsible of his duties and tried his best to be a good husband to you. To be honest, it didn't seem like neither of you really understood what it meant to be wife and husband, you're only somewhat twenty years old. The prince wouldn't touch you on your wedding night, saying it was important for you to feel comfortable first since he wouldn't take what wasn't his to begin with. He's very hard to hate indeed, so you thought it'd be easy to fall in love with him over time.

The real spark either of you felt was during you honeymoon at Summerhall. Summerhall was such a heavenly place, like it was blessed by the seven above themselves. The castle, used by the Targaryens as a mere summer house, is located near the foothills of the Red Mountains, tucked away in the Dornish Marches of the Southeast. Day seemed to last forever in this place and the warmth of the sun never faded. It was the perfect location for a honeymoon with all it's beautiful gardens and the lake right in front of it.

Valarr was pretty enthusiastic when the both of you arrived and immediately pulled you with him to show you his favorite places around the castle. Many days were spent sleeping in and waking at whatever hour your body felt like, letting yourself get pampered by gettinf the first taste of a true royal life — Not having to do anything at all. It was always "You have maids for that".. it appeared as if you wouldn't even had to walk if you had asked to be carried around.

Valarr's favorite thing to do with you was to take you on a walk at dawn, when the wind would pick up and the air would get crispy. Summer was the best season, in his opinion, especially now that he got to spend it with you. He wasn't mad your marriage was a marriage of convenience. Not at all even. You looked exceptionally beautiful in the low orange glow of the setting sun and you spoke just as softly as silk — He would take your hand into his, smoothing over the back of your hand with his thumb, while just listening to you ramble on about anything you had on your mind. And when you would squeeze his hand back, Valarr's breath would hitch and he'd feel his cheeks get flushed like a kid in love for the first time.

»Are you feeling unwell?« you asked immediately after you noticed the redness on his face wasn't caused by how the sunlight hit his skin. »No! I mean.. no, I'm feeling just fine. Don't worry about me.« The sound of your laughter that followed after won't ever leave his mind.

When Valarr would invite you to sit outside with him, somewhere private within the gardens where you wouldn't be bothered by any guards (Who were actually supposed to stay as close to you as they could for emergency situations), you felt like you finally understood what teenage love was all about.

Granted, he is your husband already so it may sound strange, but seeing his boyish smile and hearing him laugh so freely and genuinely while you miserably try to teach him how to make a flower crown just did things to your feelings.

When looking at Valarr, watching his mismatched eyes lock onto yours, being so close you could count the little freckled that littered his nose, he looked like a faint, small melody being played on a wooden harp with strings fine like angelhair and pretty things carved into it. It was strange, but maybe that's just how it felt like when you liked someone a lot.

You'd sometimes dissociate when looking at him: »Hah, is something wrong again? Tell me how not to mess this up, please.« Valarr asked you with a grin, meaning the half-done flower crown, made out of baby blue forget-me-nots, in his hands. »No.. it looks great.«

»Then I'm glad. I want it to be yours when I'm done.«

Evenings were just as tranquil. This time around, your husband found you leaning over the opened window of your shared chambers, just watching the world outside the castle. The sun had already gone down, yet the sky wasn't quite dark just yet. It had been a more cloudy day today, which only made the wind stronger as night came closer. You were already in your white, flowy nightgown that he had gifted you before.

The heavy footsteps behind you already alerted you of Valarr's presence, yet you still jumped out of your skin when he suddenly wrapped his arms around your middle from behind — The rather broad plane of his chest pressed against your back, his breathing syncing up with yours. »What is it that you're watching, love?« He let his chin rest on your shoulder, making his voice ring two times louder through your ear.

With a small tilt you had leaned your head against his, just shrugging his question off. You found yourself liking the new nickname he gave you — And Valarr said it in a way which suggested he actually meant it. »Nothing in particular.«

The silence between the two of you was comfortable and didn't feel nearly as awkward as it did just a few weeks ago. Your breathing slowly synced up with his, chest rising when his did and heart beating as fast as his did as well. It didn't take long before Valarr turned his head towards you and start littering kisses along your jaw and behind your ear. All you did was lean into his touch with a knowing grin, letting him push your hair out of the way to continue to kiss down your neck.

When attraction came natrually, it meant the pressing duty of needing an heir as soon as possible also wasn't as suffocating as you had thought. You didn't have to force yourself to turn around to face your husband, to wrap your arms around his neck and pull him into a fierce kiss (as you had already imagined yourself doing basically all day) or to let him press his knee in between your thighs. No, you wanted this and nothing more currently.

Valarr's hands gripped and groped at the soft flesh of your breasts and ass all the while kissing you like he wouldn't get the chance to do it again — It was clear he still was just as inexperienced as you were, apparently having kept his honor as a prince who hasn't bedded a whore yet unlike some before him. His lips melted against yours in a rush and the heat of the moment, not allowing even himself to take his time. His hands followed the curve of your spine up to the back of your head where he held you in place while finally breaking the kiss off in the need for some air.

You had to chuckle: »What has gotten you in this rush?« and Valarr couldn't really tell what it was either. Perhaps it was the fact he now has such a beautiful wife to do all kinds of things with or maybe it was because.. a woman in general was in front of him, but that's beside the point.

»You just.. I.. you—« The princeling was cut off again by you just shaking your head and pressing your lips onto his again.

And by the gods, he felt like an animal the way he whipped you around — towards the bed — and how he started to hastly undress you and himself. It didn't even matter that the marriage was already consummated anyway. This felt new and exciting and Valarr couldn't help the raw need and lust he felt you — Well, neither could you.

Your head had found a comfortable place upon the soft pillows on your shared bed, hair looking disheveled and lips all pink and swollen just like his, while he was still busy kissing your whole, naked, body. You were a piece of art and he couldn't stop admiring you — Valarr's hands had already mapped out the entirety of your body and he needed to do it again and again to burn the feeling into his memory. »I never tell you enough how beautiful you are..« he murmured into your ear, while his right hand clumsily tried to find your soft spot between your opened legs to give into your whining. At some point you just took his hand and coordinated the pad of his thumb to press against your clit and wordlessly animated him to drag slow circles om it. His eyes tipped down to look at what he's doing, making you giggle at how starstruck he seemed.

Valarr truly had no idea what he was doing — All he knew was that what he was doing was making you feel good and how badly he needed to be inside of your sweet, warm velvet walls right now.

His tongue teasingly swept over one of your sensitive nipples all the while he still dragged his middle and ring finger through your wet folds and back up to your clit again, as if only to make you go even crazier in need. You kept mewling and withering underneath him, pleading and begging for him to finally do something.

You only needed to repeat yourself once, mewling out a pathetic »Please, my prince« before he gently eased the tip of his hard, pre-cum leaking cock into your pussy. The feeling of your wet walls clamping down on his length was almost enough to make Valarr whine himself — The two of you were chest to chest, his weight pressing you down further into the mattress the more he moved his hips against yours, and he rested his forehead against yours in an instant in what felt like an attempt to fuse together. Goosebumps were visible on your skin the faster and sloppier he drilled his cock into your wet cunt and the sounds it made was just obscene.

»Fuck, you.. you're amazing.« Valarr wasn't one to swear, but things just started to bubble out if his mouth especially when you wrapped your legs around his waist to allow his movements reach that one sweet, spongey spot deep inside of you. Your husbands lips immediately sought out yours the louder you started to moan, just to swallow the sound and keep it all to himself. In this moment you were quite thankful no other members of his family were currently with you at Summerhall.

But the more you felt yourself close to your release, the less still you were able to keep yourself — Your head whipped from side to side, your mind undeniably clouded with pleasure just as much as Valarr's was. The snap of his hips suddenly became erratic, finally undoing the knot you felt lower belly. Just a few thrusts later you could practically feel thick ropes of cum coat your inner walls white. Valarr whined your name right into your ear when he came, with his eyebrows furrowed like he was about to cry from the pleasure.

The sweat made your babyhair stick to your forehead and your face felt uncomfortably flushed, even after a couple of minutes had passed. Your pussy was still pulsating around Valarr's length for which he had no strength to pull out just yet. He had just collapsed on top of you without another word and let you wrap your arms around his bare shoulders and rake your fingers through his hair. He wanted nothing but this right now — To be in your embrace and to savour the small, sweet little kisses you pressed onto his forehead.

The prince slowly lifted his head from the crook of your neck just to look at your pretty face: »I do think I love you, you know?« he said in a low voice, though his tone suggested he was being genuine. You smiled at him, eyes looking straight into his.

»I do think I love you, too.«

i saw someone here say valarr is sensitive on his white hair streak... and i've been going insane with it.

you probably discovered it a few weeks into your marriage. your husband had grown the habit of drifting off to sleep with his head resting against your chest, the faint sound of the thumps of your heart lulling him into peaceful sleep.

valarr would practically purr into you at the feeling of your soft touch as you ran your fingers through his hair, and you'd chuckle delightfully as you sensed him melt further into your warmth. that is, until your fingers scratched at a particular spot on his scalp, the one where a silver streak grew amongst the dark strands of hair.

Aerion as a toddler made his parent's life a literal hell. Not only was he bratty, but also so incredibly unmindful of his studies, training and what was proper and what wasn't. He often talked too much and that without a filter, especially to his siblings, so it wasn't uncommon for Maekar to give him a smack to the back of his head as a warning to straighten up again.

Oh and this kid couldn't be trusted with a weapon in his hand. Even when he was still training with a wooden sword, he'd try to beat Daeron up and would chase him around the whole castle ground whenever he tried to run away. And if these things were brought up now, Aerion would just scoff and laugh, waving it off: »I don't know what you're talking about. You're exaggerating.«

He was the sole reason his father aged ten times faster — The man prayed to the gods above to give Aerion a son who came after him when your pregnancy was announced.

First and foremost, the prince was thrilled and head over heels when you delivered a healthy baby boy (and you had to immediately tell him that you were not going to let him name it Maegor), but the excitement quickly wore off when the first two weeks of constant night terrors went by. Your babe wouldn't scream and cry almost every night and Aerion thought he'd go insane if he had to sleep in the same room another night more. »By the gods, what could possibly be bothering him now?« he groaned, watching you lift your son out of his pretty little crib and carry him to your bed. »Fuck no,« your husband looked at you like you just murdered his family, »don't take him here? My ears are already ringing from his crying.«

The baby phase was possibly the worst, especially when you forced him to take care of his child for a bit while you were taking a bath, for example — Not only would his son scream the second he got handed to his father, he would also not stop trying to bite him.

It did kind of bother Aerion that your son was such a sweetheart when he was with you, but turned into a tiny little beast when he was with him. It hurt even more, because the child was a carbon copy of him — Silver-white, beautiful silky hair, purple-ish eyes, his exact same frown, laughter... though, his side profile resembled yours. Aerion was convinced you gave birth to the most beautiful Targaryen who ever lived, with such a brave attitude and the same fire in him that he had, but he seemed to hate him.

»Boy, don't bother your father now.« you had to call out from the other side of the room over and over again. Your son, a toddler now, just wouldn't stop trying to hit Aerion with his toy sword.

»Papa, look! Hey look! Look, I'm a dragon!« Aerion humored him and leaned down to look at his son try to imitate a roar and look intimidating... and then it dawned on him that the new generation of Targaryens was (quite literally) losing the ancient texts. No, there was no way he wouldn't properly teach his son about the history of House Targaryen, about every king and queen who has ever lived and why exactly they are superior to other houses. Obviously, your son's role model was Aegon The Conqueror.

Just like his father, the child was obsessed with the tales of old times the maesters would tell him about. Times where his house was much greater, times where Targaryens ruled over the Seven Kingdoms with their dragons — His favorite thing was when his father would tell him a bedtime story about those fantastical creatures and his question would always be the same: »And where did the dragons go now?«

You had to smile every time you saw your two boys bond over a same interest. Aerion was truly just raising a mini version of him, with a much bigger fighter spirit, though.

»Hm, he sounds just like you.« you murmured to your husband while the two of you watched your son try to challenge a knight of the Kingsguard. Aerion just looked at you: »Well, I'm glad he has your kindness.«

It's no secret that Aerion is the most spoiled and brattiest out of his siblings. Truly not king material if you would ask around, but respect has to be given to the prince.

It's also not suprising that he's lazy — Especially in bed. His favorite thing is to lay back and make you do all the work to get yourself off. Come on, he thinks himself a dragon, a majestic beast that can't be tamed, so he'll obviously have you straddling his lap and bounce yourself silly on his cock rather than being on top of you doing all the work.

One could argue Aerion wouldn't like being beneath someone, and you'd be right, but not in this scenario. With his head propped on the fluffy, soft pillows of your shared bed, he has the best view of your tits bouncing right in front of his face — All he had to do is beckon you closer to be able to bury his face in between them and litter dark purple-ish hickeys all over your collarbone.

It was sickening how teasingly slow you'd lower yourself onto his cock but the stretch felt oh-so good. Wet, warm velvety walld clamped down onto his length like a vice and Aerion wagered he'd pass out if you took any longer to move. His strong, greedy hands took ahold of your hips and his fingernails buried rather deep into your skin, leaving crescent moons at their wake — »Come on, ride me. I know you can do it.« Those were probably the only encouraging words you'd ever hear out of the prince's mouth.

And fuck was it worth it to endure Aerion's bratty mouth or arrogance. His hands helped you move your hips up and down his cock — "helping" meaning literally slamming your hips back down in such a fast pace you didn't even know was possible — and all you could do is hiss and whine and squirm. Your pussy pulsated around him so deliciously whenever Aerion would lean forward to kiss your breasts and experimentally lick over your nipples.

Your whines, as pathetic as they were, so full if desperation were music to his ears. Oh he knows he got you good, knows he hit a deep spot inside of you whenever you'd start to cry out his name and his name only.

When he thinks he has done enough, he just lets his head fall back again and mayhaps trace his hands down your body and rub lazy circles over your clit just to hear you moan even more.

Valarr Targaryen could never truly lose.

No matter how many times he fell from his horse, or how many times he was injured in some embarrassing fashion. He had embarrassment, but never shame. Because with every loss or win, his pretty wife was there to meet him halfway.

She'd take off his helm, cup his cheeks, and press a sweet kiss to his lips. It made his ears burn and his knee want to buckle. She'd praise him of make a quip depending on how he felt, she always seemed to know. This time, he grinned widely at the fight.

He loss, yes, but it wasn't a planned fight set up by his father! He called that a win. She laughs at his grin, taking off his dirtied helm. "My love, did you see that?" She nods with a giggle, cupping his cheeks. "I've never felt so excited! I almost had him!" "Careful, husband."

She pecks his lips, making him forget his ramblings. "Many will start to think of you a masochist." He scoffs once she pulled away. "Don't speak so foolishly, love. A man can praise another without loving pain." "No, but," She wipes mud from his eye.

"No other man beams with excitement after such a loss." "I am no ordinary man." He retorts playfully, stealing another kiss from her, hands tenderly cupping her hips, waist, and the small of her back (they couldn't sit still). "I have you." Many grimace in envy at the sight.

It was no secret that despite not coming from a powerful house, their princess was a beauty to uphold. Inside and out. She giggles, grabbing his hand and rushing them to their tent. Once inside, she nods at her pacing father-in-law, calling out with a tease.

"You look as though you're to explode, father." He pauses, giving her a brief smile before turning to his son. "I just worry that my son is set on ending his life early, is all." Valarr rolls his eyes as he's fretted over by his father, but lets him. "I'm not. Why are you two so convinced?"

"Because you have the ambition of a child, dear husband. You don't think at times." She says bluntly, making him turn to her in offense. "What she means is," Baelor steps in quickly, lips twitching into an amused smile. "That you wish to fight those who have no mercy for you."

"Which is foolish." "Which is foolish," Baelor sighs, chuckling at his daughter-in-law's scolding. "And we only want you safe. We have to think these things through, talk with one another." Baelor pleads gently, cupping his son's face. Valarr sighs, leaning into the touch.

Before he could respond with something heartfelt, his wife wacks his head. "Ow!" He pouts down at her. "What if I was injured?" "Then you'd be much more quietly, husband. Here," She offers a wet rug to clean his face, Baelor stepping aside and letting the young couple babble.

He was blessed to have such a wife that he loved. Which is why he felt disrespected when his next opponent trots up to her, bowing deeply. "If it pleases the lady, I offer you to bestow you the title of Queen of Love and Beauty." The arena was quiet, shocked.

Valarr, from his horse, stews in anger and offense. His wife eyes the man, smiling kindly. Just before everyone thought she would accept- "I do not think you the victor yet, Ser. Only victors bestow such honors, yes?" Her eyes sharp, her tongue sweet and patient.

The man simply smirks. "I thought it would be best to ask early, princess." She hums, smiling to herself, her eyes darting towards her husband. "You forget yourself, Ser. My husband is no weak man." And so, everyone got into position. Maekar leans forward, whispering to his brother.

"What the f-ck was that?" Baelor hums, just as shocked at the audacity. He does, however, smile at the sight of his son sitting up straight. "Potential." It was over before any of them could process, Valarr on his horse, looming over the man who laid unmoving in the mud.

The prince glares, his grip on his lance tight and bruising. He grins sarcastically. "Perhaps someone could offer you a crown of flowers, ser. They'd suit you well." She laughs as the crowd cheers, clapping in joy. He may not look it, but her husband was still a dragon.

They are territorial as they can be unbothered. As usual, she rushes down to meet her husband halfway. She takes off his helm and cups his red cheeks, the man still fuming. She smiles sweetly. "A wonderful scene, husband." He hums, eyeing her slowly.

Before she could place her lips on his, his hands come up. He gently places the crown of flowers upon her head and brow, eyes gentle as they meet hers. He then brings her into his arms, her lips overtaking her with a rare fevor. He then lifts her, lips never parting.

She laughs into the kiss, cupping his head as the crowd cheers. He pulls away with a lovesick, proud, and boyish grin she seemed to pull out of him. He sets her down, now sheepish once he realized that they were still in the eye of the public.

She pecks his cheek sweetly, making him perk up. "The only queen you'll ever be is mine." He declared, not caring who heard. She nods, her arms looping against his and leaning into him. "I have no problems with that." He felt like the luckiest man in the realm as he kisses her again.

Featuring: Aerion "Brightflame" Targaryen, Valarr "The Young Prince" Targaryen, Daeron "The Drunken" Targaryen, Baelor "Breakspear" Targaryen, Maekar "The Anvil" Targaryen

This work contains: nsfw, p in v sex, unprotected sex, cowgirl position, fem!reader, established relationships (wife!reader), some dirty talk, mentions of getting pregnant / creampies, lots of groping and touching, all of them are very sweet tho (even Aerion (kinda)), not proof read, english isn't my first language

Speaking...: this was lowkey done by a different person already, but this idea is too good not to use. Also I just realized I can't even watch episode 5 because hbo doesn't exist in türkiye.. this is probably the first time I wanted a vacation to end bruh

It's not suprising that Aerion's favorite position is cowgirl, not excluding reverse cowgirl either. The young prince loves to be in control, don't get him wrong, but when you framed the idea as "riding him like a dragon", he was all for it. He'll have his pretty little head rested against the wooden headboard of your shared bed, dirty words leaving his mouth non-stop that bounced off of the walls of your chambers as loud as he wanted to — When you, his beautiful wife, were on top of him, Aerion forgot the word "embarrassing". His favorite thing was to dig his nails into the fat of your ass to make you bounce quicker on his cock, grinning and smiling like an idiot when you pressed your hand on your mouth to keep quiet. He'd immediately grip your wrist and try to get you to stop so that all of King's Landing can hear how happy he really made you. »You can go faster than this, can't you, love? Come on, put in some effort.« was such a typical Aerion line, but the Targaryen just looked so perfect with his white-silver hair glowing in the candlelight and his eyebrows scrunched up in pleasure that you couldn't do anything but oblige.

Valarr, being the sweetheart he is, always says he wants to take care of you and would bend over backwards if it meant you were comfortable — He's definitely the most humble one out of the Targaryen's and you were so happy he was your husband. Though, of course, the urge to take care of him from time to time and to ride him silly was sometimes greater than the need of getting pounded into the mattress by him. After Valarr asked »Wait, are you sure?« a thousand times, he agreed to let you be on top once.. and the second you slowly and teasingly lowered yourself onto his length he asked himself why he didn't let you do that sooner. It's like his pupils turned into hearts when he looked up at you through his long lashes, looking practically hypnotized by the way your breasts bounced with every movement you made, right in front of his face. Valarr felt his face get incredibly hot and flushed and even though he really wasn't doing anything, he was out of breath — The loud whimpers and small moans of your name on his tongue were enough to let you know you were doing a good job, though.

Even though Daeron's favorite position was something completely different, the fact that he was often too drunk or too tipsy to function left you no other choice but to get on top of him (not that you were complaining). The prince loved to do nothing at all and stay up most of the night just to avoid having those weird dreams again, so his preferred way to pass time was to feel you up and charm his way into your underwear. You'd often lean down to press a kiss onto your husband's lips while you ground your hips against his, feeling the tip of his cock constantly bumping against your sweet spot, making you moan into his mouth. Oh yeah, Daeron really loved doing nothing at all other than grope your tits, leave hickeys all over your collarbone and watch you getting yourself off on his dick. The alcohol in his bloodstream made him feel every drag of your pussy ten times more intensely and made the sound of your moans even sweeter than they already were. »Mhm.. you drive— me crazy..« he'd mutter, basically to himself, as he snaked his arms around your waist and pulled you down against him again. Wow, from this angle you looked like an angel, sent from the seven above...

Oh Baelor, I could write poems about you.. Well, we all know he is definitely husband material, someone who'd literally do anything for his wife, and that also definitely shows in bed. Whatever you say, he'll do it — You wanna be on top? With pleasure. Baelor prefers intimacy over pure lust first and foremost, so you can be sure he'll be doing the most just to have you in his embrace. His beard felt scratchy against the side of your cheek, contrasted by the soft kisses he peppered all over your face and neck. He always made sure you knew how loved you were by him, so encouraging words and small grunts to let you know how good you felt went straight to your ear. But, honestly, you couldn't even really feel those or hear the sweet nothings he raspes into your ear due to how fucked out you were. Hiis thrusts, meant to help you once you got tired, were rather shallow and slow, but the feeling of Baelor bottoming out inside of you was enough to make your legs quiver. Your husband's strong hands caressed the flesh of your ass, slowly lifting your hips to slam you back down on his cock again: »Going to give me another babe, will you?«

It was obvious where Maekar's children got their attitudes from (especially Aerion) — Oh you want to top? Fucking finally, now he gets to rest for once. Best believe this man will be having the time of his life, hands behind his head while he enjoyed the warm, plush pillow and the view of you from beneath. Cut him some slack, he has literally so much to deal with, he really appreciates it when you pamper him. You always look so graceful in the way you move, dragging your hips forward and backward while he was balls deep inside your pussy, trying so hard not to immediately spill his seed inside of you. And when you'd get impatient and start bouncing on his cock like a lunatic, Maekar would almost always hiss and immediately grip your hips to make you stop: »Fuck, slow down, love. I'm not going anywhere.« he'd say, followed by a string of other curse words the second you started to grind your hips agains his again. The Targaryen would never admit it out loud, but this genuinely was his favorite way to be intimate with you — Use him as your personal toy, he doesn't care.

oh this is good territory, I most definetly can.. 👀

another knight crowning you

features: baelor, maekar, dunk, aerion, lyonel, valarr and daeron.

warning(s): wife!reader, violence/mention of in some, canon typical jousting fuckery

Baelor didn’t participate much in tourneys any more, his growing age and responsibility distancing him from the entertain and bustle of the lists. But he does enjoy the overseeing of such an occasion, joining in the celebrations by scouting the young knights, as well as he had since he was a boy, teaching his son own knowledge.