lostrealityr

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I have a very wide range of interests in many different fandoms, therefore what I write about may change with my interests.

My content and work may include: dark themes, miscommunication, age gaps, power dynamics, murder, hurt, angst, etc etc

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All of my works are x female reader as this is how i tend to produce my best work!

Just because I write about a theme or a character does not necessarily mean I agree with it or their actions!! [read and write responsibly guys]

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updates:

If anyone actually ends up interested in my work I will be surprised, however if anyone actually wants second parts or requests things, unless stated otherwise I will try my best to accommodate! But if im being very honest my updates will likely be all at once then not for a while, therefore I try to pre-write pics and then post them slowly that way I won’t get burnt out. It’s also very likely a lot of my fic’s will remain one-shots unless requested otherwise. 

extra: unless stated otherwise no media, photo’s, images, sounds etc i use belong to me. all rights go to the original owners [this includes profile picture for my profile (however it was edited by me!!), all credit to rightful owners][similarly any content here posted on pinterest such as what is used in my headers/moodboards/separators belongs to the rightful owners 100% and i am not in any way shape or form taking credit for any of these images used. if any need to be removed please let me know and i will do so happily!! i am in no way shape or form taking credit for what is not mine!!]

none of my works nor posts are inspired by ai, have used ai, or are products of ai in any way. nor do i give permission for my works to be put through ai or adapted by ai whatsoever.

happy reading

Ashford tourney was supposed to be for mending long lasting alliances with the houses of the Reach. Instead, your father-by-law had lost two of his son’s on the journey, and the one that remained had managed to kill a horse during his first and now only joust. He had been banned from competing for fear the small-folk would try and pelt him to death with stones in the arena. You had been there all of three days, and you were all as sick of it as the people were of you.

Therefore when the evening jousts commenced at sunset, you had urged your husband to join you on a walk in the meadows. No one else will venture there you had said, they are preoccupied with the tournament.

And your words rang true, the meadow was deserted. Insects flew freely, birds sung loudly, an orange glow cast across the entire scene. It was picturesque. Utterly beautiful. That’s where you led amongst the flowers of the field, your head resting in your husband’s lap as his fingers fell idly through your hair.

“You are going to get filthy led down there.” He uttered, fingers tangling several strands together in a pattern which slightly resembled that of a plait. “You worry too much about things that do not matter my dragon.” You reached up a hand, pressing your two central fingers against his lips as he parted them, welcoming their taste against his tongue before biting down lightly. A pout fell across your face as you yanked your hand back, little red crescents bled across your fingers from the rawness of his touch. Biting was a known affection of your husband. He did it playfully, he did it endearingly, he did it in bed, he did it when he thought you needed a reminder of to whom you belong. You had grown used to it being a silent form of I love you, this makes you mine.

In retaliation to his brute touch you kissed his palm tenderly, pressing his fingers flat against your cheek as your lips caressed his callous hands. “You do not always have to be so gentle.” He murmured, his unused hand resuming its place at the crown of your head, massaging gently. “I do not seek to hurt you, husband.” It was true, did his immature actions like killing a horse in a friendly tourney make you want to suffocate him with your pillow? Yes. Would you ever do such a thing? No. Because you maintained impulse control, something your husband feverishly lacked. “People talk of our marriage you know.” It felt like a confession from his lips, he desired to be feared but he hated the whispers that carried pity in your direction, that he would dare lay a hand to his own wife, he would sooner cut it off himself than do such a thing to you. He was rough when he knew it brought you pleasure only, never would he strike you down for merely existing, why would he have taken you to wed if your thoughts and feelings deserved to be silenced at his hand? But he knew what people thought, he was publicly careless in his actions, he hurt others without thinking twice. They pitied you publicly, his own family even contributed.

The Mad Prince’s Poor Wife

Brightflames caged dove

The living ghost of Summerhall

They truly believed you to be so unseen. Sure you were quieter than most, but your husband was devoted to your every need. They did not see his affection, they had not earned it. You had never had to, but to hear the whispers on the wind of their blatant pity was painful. You were not ignored, far from it. But in Summerhall there was few that made good company, you often found yourself wandering the halls late at night when sleep would not find you, resulting in the living ghost becoming an unwanted nickname - because the servants truly believed you were wandering due to the fact your husband was bedding whores in your shared bedchamber, another misconception, he just snores very fucking loud.

“I know of what they say.” You looked up to meet his eyes lightly, his contrasted your own heavily “but again, it does not concern me for they do not know me.” He scoffed, untangling his fingers from your hair “Yes but maybe it should, they speak as if I hate you, I bed whores in our shared bed, I make you suffer when I do bed you.”

“Maybe they think that because you make me scream.” You giggled, you caught the amusement flash across his face in a subtly proud smirk before he shook his head “That is absolutely beside the point. Do not be so vulgar, it is not befitting of a Lady.” He was teasing, abundantly so, he lowered his face until he was inches from your own, upside down from your perspective. The tip of his nose brushed against the bridge of your own, however in his distraction you placed several kisses to his taught jaw. His eyes fell shut with a hum, you tangled your hands in his hair, pulling his face as close as you could get it to your own, kissing his forehead to his cheek tenderly, before releasing him and turning onto your stomach, resting your arms in his lap. You were propped up that way, giving him better access to the entirety of your face. He seized the opportunity to entwine his hands with your hair full, locking them at the base of your scalp so that you were forced to maintain eye contact with him. “Look at this dress. Have you any idea the coin I spent on it?” He tutted, the once flush pink skirts were saddled with marks of dusty mud - it would undoubtedly brush off but he enjoyed the game of making a fuss. “Probably more than was necessary.” You smiled, meeting his lips in a devastating kiss as he groaned into your mouth.

“It is growing late, we should return to bed.” He pulled away ever so slightly but you chased his lips with your own, “I do not wish to depart yet! No need to stay in that dreary place when this is the view.” He groaned against your lips before he was silenced by your tongue fighting its way back into his mouth. You settled yourself into his lap now, allowing you a better reach to his face as he chuckled quietly at your desperation for closeness.

“Do not laugh at me.” You whined, his hands settled to your hips in an attempt to settle your dispute. “You are desperate.” He titled his head, a lazy smile planted onto his face, such a vast separation from the brute man that held his own on a tourney field. “I am allowed to be desperate you are my husband.”

“Yes well, if you would come with me to bed I would be able to satisfy your desires.” He raised an eyebrow, a kiss pressed to the side of your face. “I desire your company and your affection and I want it here in this field.” You demanded, maybe it did sound a bit desperate in hindsight but you didn’t have the care for it. He only laughed louder as you pouted at him, “you sound childish. Lose the attitude my flame it does not best suit you.”

“Childish! How dare you!”

“Oh how dare I? Gods I do forget myself.” His lips joined to your neck in a flurry of hurried kisses that only forced your laughter to join with his. “There, is my wife now satisfied?”

A hazy smile joined your face, you adored your husband more than anything because to you this was who he was. It brought you pain more often than not to know how those around you viewed your relationship. They did not see his affection, they saw your withdrawal from public affection. You did not hold hands, you did not kiss or even touch where others could see. Because it was not for them to have. What you shared was gentle and sacred and entirely your own.

A/N: shorter and entirely out of character for aerion i know, but i couldn’t resist. sometimes i forget im literally writing fanfiction and i can write whatever i want however i want so yes this is not who aerion is as a character but i had a lot of fun so i hope you all enjoyed.

as always: likes, comments, reblogs + any interactions at all are always always appreciated - take care everyone!!

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.

general akotsk taglist:

@noone1233nobody @antobooh @mikariel195 @kravitzwhore @vanillafan6 @ae-gax @galactict3a @aleemendoza2425-blog @feral-postings @n3rdybirdee @mossthedevouring @loveslide @serduncansdelight @seekingtherapyasap @moonlights-muse @icebearcucumber @poisonedsultana @nerdyinfluencertastemaker @qardasngan

aerion targaryen taglist:

@the-many-fandom-person @gasstationwishes @mindless-rock @rock-lol

@16lcs @kiskisser @licornie @celestrys @scaredgrimes01 @diannnnsss @ophidialantern @b-bef @ariescvnt @irrelevantout28 @kekeke27 @scwheeler @etfrin @beelzebzb @lilyyexe @hanmed

Ormund had taken you to wife without question, yet he lacked the understanding of how to care for someone when your understanding of care was so different from his. He kept you fed and bathed and bedded as a decent husband was supposed to, yet he kept you a prisoner to his bedchambers only really allowing exit for the sake of prayers he knew you did not believe in.

You'd kneel in that sept, a cold place lit by candle light which the warmth of never managed to spread, and pray to gods you had no faith in.

You would pray to the Father do not give my husband the satisfaction of justice

You would pray to the Mother do not give me that man's damned child

You would pray to the Warrior weaken his strength

You would pray to the Maiden do not let him have the gratification of dampening my purity

You would pray to the Smith let his labour be futile

You would pray to the Crone make him doubt his lack of wisdom

You would pray to the Stranger take him from me by any hand you desire

Because if these supposed God’s were true, and listening, perhaps they may pity the fact you were supposedly loved by a man who devoted his life to their faith in impure intent - though now with your repeated ill-wishes you supposed you were truly no different from him. Maybe even two sides of the same coin if they saw it deeper than the hatred you shared.

You had been knelt in the sept for what felt like hours, the sky had dimmed and you knew your only chance at life outside of his bedchamber walls was in this stone ridden cavern. You could feel the indents in the paving digging into your kneecaps, the lack of layers provided by your thin gold nightgown did not help the favour. The doors flooded open, the wave of air extinguished near every candle on the praying sept causing your eyes to snap open in anger.

Who dare interrupt the tranquility of the princess?

“Cousin.”

Daeron Targaryen, last born son of Queen Consort Alicent Hightower and your uncle, the King. Though he was dead now, so technically she was a dowager and he was a corpse. Not that he hadn’t been for some time now, he had spent his final years abled on milk of the poppy, though that was only word on the wind, you were not permitted to step foot in Kings Landing. You never had been since your marriage begun. But nor had Daeron, he was a ward of your dear husband and a quiet boy, wrapped more-so in his own head taking more time to observe than contribute. He was favoured undeniably more than yourself in Old Town for being truly raised Hightower, he had been a babe upon arrival and never truly knew any different. But you were raised Targaryen, by your Father Daemon no less, that was a spirit not quite as unbreakable.

“I have been sent to retrieve you for your Lord Husband, he requires your assistance in bathing.” Daeron forced a weak smile, he was no stranger to your husbands attitude and outbursts, Ormund never did quite have a tether on his temper and those that were serving him and unfortunate enough to witness it often bore the marks. Daeron had been spared from the physical reminders, as had you. But the mental scars remained nonetheless.

“I am sure a grown man can bathe himself without assistance.” You murmured, raising your eyes to meet his. “You know this is not my command, do not make my life so difficult also.” He meant well and you knew that, he was also just a boy. He did not know what a marriage was truly supposed to look like, he was surrounded by knights, septon’s and septa’s. Yours was the only one he ever seemingly bore witness to and this meant it held the picture of true marriage in his eyes, and nothing that took place within it was out of the ordinary. You hoped maybe he had enough sense to truly realise this was strange, that most wives were not kept in their husband’s bedchambers, their only time away being praying in the sept. That husbands and wives were not meant to throw things at one another and yell, threaten to kill one another if it pleased them. But why would he ever know any different if you were the only example he had?

You rose in annoyance, nightgown kissing the stone as your knees creaked with now awoken ache. You brushed his shoulder as you passed, a gentle squeeze to his bicep in acknowledgment my anger does not lie with you as carried through the silent gesture. The journey was shorter than you desired, inner corridors not outer passages gods forbid you got to see the sky. Your head hung low as you passed the pitying eyes of the Septa’s as they travelled to complete their evening prayers. You pitied them all the same, they also lived in this secluded place, no families to return to. They were happier than you, they had companionship in one another. You were not even granted that mercy.

The steps to your bedchamber were winding, your husband’s study was built in first, the desk in the middle of the closed curtain chamber. Your true bedchamber led beneath one of the back doors, the one to your left being that of the washroom. The handle was warm meaning the help had likely only just departed, whatever poor servant had been forced to fill the bath for your husband had your pity also. If he was requesting you solely for this purpose it was likely because he was already endowed in his ever growing foul mood. You turned the handle and entered, shutting the door as silently as the heavy board would allow, before turning to face him. He sat in clouded waters, whatever oils and balms he could use to make himself cleanlier were coating both him and the liquid surrounding him. You could practically taste the incense of the room, several burning around the windowsills, the water was letting off enough steam but the smoke from the vast amount of them still clouded your vision around it. He was entirely undressed, eyes held tightly shut as the last of the cool night air depleted into the stuffy room. “You were summoned a quarter of an hour ago.” He opened his eyes, casting them over you and the dust ridden marks at the knees of your skirts. “You are filthy. You have disobeyed me, have you been in the gardens?” Gods his voice grated against your ears. You wished to silence him, cut out his tongue, perhaps even silence your own hearing to give yourself the gift of not hearing his tone. But he’d probably enjoy such an act of violence to yourself at your own hand, and you would not present him with such a gift.

“The sept has not been best cleaned as of late.” His dark slight eyes narrowed further, no amusement fell behind them, “Are you suggesting my servants are incompetent?” He questioned, an eyebrow raised in accusation at the possibility he did not know how to run his own damned household. “The winds have strengthened, the dust is impossible to be kept out. Most so when it is carried on the wind with every opening of those doors.” You fought to unclench your teeth but it was a bodily reaction to him, his attempt to catch you out in something he knew you were not implying. You hated it, the affect he carried without even trying, how naturally witty he was to the point holding a conversation without accusation was near impossible.

“Undress yourself.” It was a command not an ask, so you freed yourself of your nightgown until you stood bare before him, a thin layer of slick sweat glistening in the candlelight. You would do as asked, you would play this part he desired, purely out of spite as to not let him break you.

And it worked better than any open defiance ever could, for he was never able to quite catch you out.

“Hm. Have you been running?” His hand clasped around your wrist, yanking you unforgivably closer until he could practically smell the inner scent of you. “What reason have I to run?” You asked. You could list every fucking reason, but you feigned innocence for the sake of it. “Do not play the fool. Get in. Facing me you wench, what reason have I to stare at your back.” You didn’t see it but you could practically feel the eye roll, a small huff escaped you as you entered the scalding water, it penetrated each layer of your skin until you felt as though it was being peeled from your being, though this was only the beginning of his little game. He had lowered you into his lap, your thighs spread atop his own. You could feel the imprint of his cock, hard, but pressed down flat beneath the weight of your womanhood. He retained a grunt at the pressure and said nothing. His hand left the water, the skin pink from the heat that was practically cooking the pair of you alive, but he would never have it any other way. He clasped the sponge before dipping it into the water, scrubbing you clean until your skin was raw, he only felt the satisfaction found in your cleanliness when you smelt entirely as he did.

Even your hair was drenched, the water was so high your ends were damp the moment you entered yet he methodically forced your head back to dip it into the water until it reached the crown of your temple, massaging his soaps in until your hair was lathered. If he was doing it for your pleasure it would have been endearing, because it felt so intimate, so insanely good. Yet it was a method of control he fought to keep wound tight, once you had learned that you had never allowed yourself to enjoy it the same as when you first had experienced his hands so tenderly. Only when you were thoroughly rinsed did he raise you back to meet his eyes, he looked down his nose at you, his face uncomfortably close to your own. You could smell his breath, an infuriatingly pleasant odour of mint and chamomile.

You wanted to smack him.

He had wanted reliance in marriage and instead he had been gifted quiet defiance. Nothing more infuriating to someone who desired control over something they believed should be theirs.

“My cousin is marching. And now I am to do the same.” He murmured, lips catching the tip of your nose. Your eyes fell shut, “what a pity I will have to remain without your presence.” A sudden barking laugh shouldn’t have caught you as off guard as it did, his head falling back in satisfied amusement. “Oh dear wife you are naive, if you truly believe I would leave you here you are delusional. You are to ride with me and I will keep you in the pavilions. I am not as stupid as you wish to believe, you will flee if I am not here to watch you. Best keep you close, I trust no eyes better than my own.” Your jaw ticked, every opening was slammed to close by his hand, likely even kicked with enough force to rattle its foundations. His lips brushed the tip of your nose as you studied the water swishing against the hard muscle of his chest, as opposed to meeting those eyes.

“Whatever you desire.” You murmured. No use in a futile argument when your husband was dead set in his own ways. “Lift your hips.” He uttered, a hand under your thigh as you rose to his command, before sinking down onto his cock. Your brows furrowed as you tried to accustom yourself to his intrusion, you had not been quite ready but your body was doing its best to work itself up to his station. You hissed lightly but gave him no further satisfaction, though you observed the corners of his mouth twitch upward slightly. He did not thrust, he did not rock his hips, he did not move.

“What game are you playing?” You queried, feeling one of his hands venture to the valley of your breasts before pinching one of your nipples, causing you to clench violently around his cock. “Well I merely thought perhaps you might do something to seek out your own pleasure for once. Or has keeping you tied to the bedchamber caused you to grow lazy, my dearest one?” He smiled like his words were fact. The only thing they were, was infuriating. “Lazy.” You repeated, what an accusation for a man who did not let you do anything.

“The water is cold. Get out.” An abrupt change, yet again to throw you off course, keep you guessing. “The water is not cold.” You bit back, it was nearing cold but it was not currently so. “Do not answer me back, get off and get out.” He untangled his arms from you as you lifted yourself off of him and stood out of the bath, drying yourself slowly. He followed suit, though your eyes fell to his cock as it sat hard and angry, leaking furiously at the tip just below his navel. He could sense you staring, his eyes narrowed once again. “On your knees. Here, now on your knees.” It was a command not an ask. Releasing a shallow breath you lowered to your knees until your lips were level with his cock. You did not bring your lips to it. You pressed your forehead into the little fat that remained on his tummy, his hand coming to anchor your head, tangling with the strands at your crown.

“You have two choices. You can go to bed and I will go and find a whore for a pretty price. Or you can give me what I need.” Your eyes clenched shut. You were always going to give him what he needed, you hated his being but his body was so beautiful, so perfect, the person he was being so undeserving of a body hand sculpted by the Gods themselves. And when he returned the pleasure? It was utter devotion. Devotion that felt so primal you wished he desired you more than to just bed, if he weren’t so self righteous you would likely return the devotion with fervour, but you would continue to act so unwilling until your devotion overtook to feed your desire - your hunger, your craving to have a husband who loved you in body and being more than the one you currently had.

He pulled your hair, your entire head jolting backwards forcing your eyes to his. “Open.” And you did, you knew what was coming. Perhaps this was why he kept you so locked away, because he knew you’d feed into his craven desires built out of nothing but pure sin, and fed into by the raw primal lust that made him such a man. Your tongue fell out and you felt his spit collide with your own. You swallowed upon instinct, he frowned, but nodded in approval “Good. You have not forgotten how to listen. Don’t keep me waiting I have papers to write.”

You took his swollen head between your parted lips, the salty taste of him encased your senses as you begun to slowly, agonisingly slowly if you asked your husband, work your way down his length. Your hand pleasured what your mouth could not, squeezing lightly along the vein that ran prominent on the underside of his thick cock, forcing a groan from his throat.

“That’s it. You love it don’t you, being kept just for my pleasure. My own little personal whore of the Hightower. Fuck.” He bit down on his lip, one hand freeing itself from your hair to rest against the wall being you that caged you at his mercy. You nodded, tears welled in your eyes spilling uncontrollably as he pummelled down your throat. “Tell me, tell me woman.” He pleaded, begging to use your hair as leverage to bob you up and down he pulled you free just to hear the confession of your sin. “I love it- I need it.” You confessed before he nodded with a smirk, “there’s a good girl, I knew you did. No more complaints out of you, hm?”

“No no no more- no more complaints.” You panted. You were utterly ruined, compliant to his will purely from the attention of his tainting touch. His lack thereof everywhere else in your marriage left you craving whatever little he would give you through pleasure - whether it was yours or his you didn’t care, it ate you alive all the same. He dragged your head back onto his cock, you let him use you. Fuck your mouth as he saw fit.

“Eyes on me- look at me!”

Your eyes fluttered open tearfully as he nodded in approval, “keep them open. Need those pretty eyes to see how much I need my wife.” You nodded as best you could, your mouth full of his thick cock as you felt him twitch. A groan fell from his parted lips but he maintained the eye contact he so cravenly desired, spilling down your throat with a final deafening thrust.

You swallowed upon instinct, licking solemnly until he pulled away with a sound that largely resembled a whimper from your touch. Yet you brought his cock back to your lips, licking along his shaft to savour the last of his spend, the gentleness was overwhelming, overstimulating. He pressed his palm against your forehead and titled your head backwards without second thought, shaking his own. “No, no more tonight.” Your brows furrowed in confusion but you accepted his confession without protest. You watched as he cleaned himself momentarily, before sparing you a glance and holding out a hand. He cleaned you tenderly also, but his staring was so entirely unbecoming it was borderline unnerving. He stood behind you at the sink basin, the large mirror allowing you the view of his frame behind your own heavily.

He said nothing more.

His lips pressed against the skin of your shoulder as he inhaled the raw scent of you, before departing to bed. Like he had not just ruined you on the bathroom floor.

You hated the effect he maintained, how someone you hated so internally could show you just an ounce of personal attention and you were at his will. You hated him. But you knew the cycle would only repeat, as it always had.

A/N: i know reader is daemon’s daughter but i’ve left her mother deliberately unmentioned as i love the thought of whoever’s reading to choose their own as it can change your perception of how you’re reading, i’d love to know what everyone thinks!!

anyway as always: likes, comments, reblogs and any interactions at all are always always appreciated - take care everyone

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.

general hotd taglist: tbc (ask to be added)

ormund hightower taglist: tbc (ask to be added)

(specify when you comment which one if you’d like to be added)

The sun rose thick and warm between the bedchamber curtains, your hand tangled within the wild red-hair of your husband, his morning devotion already having begun between your plush thighs, seemingly no looming war could tear his skin from your own. A mewl escaped you, mouth strung wide as he pleasured you, tongue swirling and sucking your clit before beginning its descent back to your dripping hole. “You taste divine. The maiden may have just made this perfect cunt for me.” He mumbled, sounds muffled by how deep he had his lips pressed into your slit, lapping at the juices leaking freely from you. “Ugh.” You moaned, tightening your hold on his hair and pulling him ever closer. “Must you be so vulgar.”

“Vulgar.” He kissed, now allowing his teeth to dig into the skin of your thigh as his hand caressed the other, “that is of the highest praise you know.”

“It is obscene- oh- don’t stop.” The complaint was almost childish, drawing a satisfied grin onto his face as he delved back into his work, though using far less teeth this time. He enjoyed the game of it, drawing you out and prying you apart piece by piece until you were nothing more than an incoherent mind bodied into willing flesh and bone. “Oh don’t stop.” He mocked playfully, pressing a kiss to your parted thigh “but you find it so vulgar dear wife I might just have to.”

A string of no no no no no’s fell from your parted lips, only eliciting a chuckled from him as his tongue delved back into your heat, nose bumping at your clit. “See, she knows who’s going to treat her right.” He wasn’t speaking to you, he was speaking to your womanhood, the very centre of you that he was currently taking the highest amusement in devouring. Like it was some game to him, that your pleasure was nothing short of entertaining. His mouth travelled upwards, his lips replacing that of his nose at your clit as he latched on, tongue swirling around the bud as you writhed underneath him, obscenities falling freely without fault from your lips. “If only your septa’s could see you now hey? What would they tell you sweet wife.” He mumbled against you, vibrations contributing to the pleasure you felt so deeply in your bones. “They’d- ngh fuck- they’d tell me not to get into this situation in the first place.” You shivered, thighs begging to quake as he hummed against you a satisfied man. “Well then it seems you should not be spared my wrath, my mercy can be set aside for when you wish to behave.” He decided like it was fact, that despite the very reason you were in such a compromised state so early in the morning was not solely down to him.

“Gwayne-”

His tongue continued to lap at your juices before circling back up to your clit, the same repetitive circling and suckling motion driving your head to spin as you fought against your own pleasure to keep your eyes open, pulling at his hair so hard he was beginning to think you intended on scalping him. But it did not hinder him, his slid a finger into your dripping heat, stretching you around the digit before slipping his ring finger wedding band included inside of you also. He pushed his fingers apart, stretching you to capacity as he near milked you of all you had to give.

“Ah!” You mewled, you attempted to clamp your thighs shut around him yet he kept them parted as his fingers continued their devastation of clawing you apart from the inside out. “Not yet my darling.” He curled his fingers against your spongy walls, coaxing further release from you at his touch. “What do you mean not yet I want to now!” You whined, teasing was only funny when you were not the one receiving. “I’d lose that attitude rather quickly or you will be kneeling in that sept with my hands printed into your backside.” It was a reprimand, yet it was spoke with such sultry some might consider it a beginning for what was ultimately to come.

“Husband.”

“Wife.”

“Please.”

On most mornings, a breathy plea from your perfect lips would have him at your will, yet this morning seemingly nothing was worth more to him than your complete undoing. Your eyes returned to being clenched as you gnawed at your lip, only his voice broke you from your concentration, “still with me, my darling.” Still with him? As if you could be anywhere else when he was knuckle deep inside of you, clawing the most animalistic noises from your raw throat. A particularly vulgar sound left your lips, another chuckle escaping him quietly as his lips left you, and you tugged him back forcefully by his hair. “Yes, she’s still with me then.”

“Where else would you like me to be?” You heaved a breath in the removal of his tongue, as much as you desired it returned to bring you to your release, hearing his voice amongst the sounds currently leaving your womanhood courtesy of his fingers only made you grow wetter. “On top of me would work.” He mumbled, nipping at the skin of your thigh softly before licking in one solid motion to your leaking slit. “Mmph- I- that can be arranged, I am sure.” You nodded, breath now caught up but leaving you exponentially as he withdrew his fingers and kissed up the softer skin of your tummy. His lips joined the skin under your breasts before focusing his attention onto your hardened nipples. “I suppose mercy may be shown.” He licked flat across your breast before teething at your pebbled nipple, causing you to push his head slightly to escape from the sensitivity that came with his touch.

His hands grasped your waist before flipping your positions so that you were seated atop his bare pelvis, he rarely slept clothed, you run too hot for clothes to bring comfort is what he would claim, but you knew truly he just liked the unguarded, entirely human feel of the one he loved most against him with nothing but your skin to touch his own. He slid in with almost unnerving ease, your slick providing more lubricant than necessary from what he had drawn out of you by nothing greater than pure love and devotion. “Now it is your turn my star.” He kissed along the exposed column of your neck before cupping your breasts softly. You begun to rock slowly as he watched in quiet admiration, he would help you eventually, but for now he would observe.

He did not stop you as you sought your own pleasure above his own, he supposed he deserved to suffer just a little for making you so needy. But when your movements grew sluggish and your lips mouthed moans that the sound of never met the air, he took matters into his own hands, lifting your hips and letting you sink back down, clit bumping against not only the force of him, but the reddened hairs that scattered across the base of his cock, only adding to the electrification that was the pleasure you were receiving from him.

“Oh gods- right there!” The first words to leave your lips in minutes, a moan so loud he debated covering your mouth with his palm, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to, he wanted to hear what you had to say even if it didn’t quite make sense.

“Husband, please let me.” To be on top and have the position of natural dominance, yet be entirely at your husband’s will who was underneath you was an entirely new concept. He rarely took you from underneath, his cock pressed against unfathomable places inside of you, creating new sensations of pleasure you had never quite been able to chase from another angle.

“Alright my sweet wife, show me the truth of your adoration. Your devotion, to me.” He purred, a smirk still slapped across his pretty face, if you weren’t so enamoured by feeling you might have wanted to smack it from him, but that was a venture for another night. You squeezed him like a vice, bracing your hands on his shoulders as he toyed with your nipples, allowing himself to inch closer and closer to his inevitable release.

When your orgasm overtook you it was stifling, a flood that gushed from your walls soaking his pelvis and the base of his cock, his lips met the side of your hair as you shook lightly from the aftershocks, his hands freeing your nipples and settling to cradle your lower back. “Fuck wife, all f’me.”

“All for you.”

And with that he caved, slipping you off of his cock and spilling rather unceremoniously onto your stomach. You watched his abdomen contract with every heaving breath as the last dribbles of his spend freed itself from his aching cock. He pressed yet another kiss to your temple, then your forehead and then your brow until he was met with the resistance of your lips. He tucked your hair behind your ear with the gentleness of a man that hadn’t quite literally just destroyed you, before speaking softly, his eyes cast down to your own. “No children yet, we agreed. Not until this bloody war is over.” He sighed, his breath fanning over the skin of your face as you rested your chin against his chest, gazing up at him as he met you in another lustful kiss.

A/N: just a little gwayne hightower drabble bc i know almost everyone has a thing for him atm (me very much included).

anyway as always: likes, comments, reblogs and any interactions at all are always always appreciated - take care everyone

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.

general hotd taglist: tbc (ask to be added)

gwayne hightower taglist: tbc (ask to be added)

Daeron Targaryen who studies business management at Kings Landing University, who attends maybe two classes a week but any party going, purely because he knows where exactly he will end up in the world no matter how seriously he takes life.

You who also studies business management but knows exactly where you want to end up in the world, just without the funds to secure your place there. Sure you partied, but nothing infuriated you more than the son's of the best businessmen in Westeros doing nothing more than drinking and whoring, knowing no matter what they did they would end up on top in the world.

That being said, the Hightower boys always knew how to throw a party, everyone knew it. So finding yourself in their estate on a saturday night was not an uncommon activity for many local students, what was uncommon for you however, was to be bent over the bathroom sink by daddy's boy Daeron Targaryen.

"Any louder from you sweetheart and someone might think you're actually enjoying yourself." He grunted, hands kneading the fat of your ass-cheeks as he watched his cock disappearing into your dripping heat, you let out almost a squeak of a moan in an attempt to be quiet, though he only chuckled lightly. Your mini-dress was bunched up to your hips and his jeans hung low on his own as he fucked you, the obscene sound of your combined sex as he pummelled into you would surely have drawn ears by now had the music from the party not been rocking the very foundations of the house.

"Don't give yourself the satisfaction. You're nothing more than fucking irritating." You quipped, suddenly angered by the brazen mirror in front of you, likely giving him the view he desired of how pliant you were. Just because his cock felt good didn't mean you hated him any less, this was purely for selfish benefit. Again he laughed, palm coming into contact with your ass-cheek leaving several red angry welts in its wake due to the expensive rings that adorned his fingers. "Fucking irritating huh? If that's what you'd like to think." His teeth found the skin of your shoulder, digging in next to the strap of your dress forcing a whine from your throat, "so how many of these men you find fucking irritating do you let fuck you? Hm?"

"Just you."

"Yeah. That's what I fucking thought you little slut." His hand that wasn’t digging into the fat of your hip tangled itself into your hair almost painfully tight, pulling you upward to bare your throat to his lips as red-purple blooming marks begun to adorn the skin there, occasionally he couldn’t help his teeth digging in because you were just right there and it was almost too easy.

“Go on, let me hear you.” He ordered, but you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction, you bit down on your lower lip until you drew blood as he leant in to nibble at your earlobe. “Keep lying to yourself baby, telling yourself that you hate me. Turns me on.”

“I do hate you.” You spat, the tears in your eyes threatening to spill from how utterly overwhelmed by his touch, and intoxicated by his being, were more than enough proof for him to believe differently. “Your mouth’s saying one thing but your body’s telling me another. Listen to her, what she’s letting me do to her.” Another moan slipped past your lips at his words, he just felt too good, you hated that he was so good because you knew on monday in your lectures he’d likely stare right through you, but you couldn’t even bring yourself to care as you selfishly chased your orgasm against him, fingers circling your own clit rapidly.

“Fuck.” You clenched around him as obscenities muddled with praise fell from his lips, mouth working overtime as he continued his assault on your neck, devouring like he was deserving of you so intimately. But it shouldn’t have been as intimate as it felt, it shouldn’t have felt as good as it was, because you hated this man and all he represented. Yet you were willingly letting him destroy you in some cramped bathroom at a house party. Maybe it should have been mortifying, or maybe you should just live and let live. But who knows, because the pleasure was too overwhelming for you to even consider stopping.

“I bet you don’t even know my fucking name.” You whined, yet his only response was praise muttered against your skin “You’re taking me so well.” Your name fell naturally behind causing you to hiss as he continued “you think I’d fuck a girl whose name I didn’t know? Hm? I won’t pretend to be a gentleman but I do have common courtesy.”

“Daeron.” You mewled, nothing savour his name could overwhelm you just as much. “Yeah? You think I don’t see you in your little shirts, tits practically spilling out for any guy to gawk at. Skirts barely covering up to your arse. Or how about that pretty blue dress you whore to the charity gala at uni last december?” He peppered kisses along your jaw before further yanking your head back to join your lips, biting that place on yours where you had drawn blood only minutes earlier. “That’s right pretty girl. I know your fucking name. Know a lot more than that too.” His eyes clenched shut as he tried to hold out a little longer, he wanted you to cum first, he wanted to prove he had that over you. Maybe you were smarter academically, more intelligent, but he’d be damned if he let you think you were better in bed, no matter if this was the best sex he’d had in a long fucking time.

And he had won, because you were clenching around him like a vice as you came undone, his lips pressed to your own as he grinned in satisfaction, “don’t think I can’t feel you princess, cumming without permission.”

“I don’t need your fucking permission.” You grunted, riding out your orgasm as he spilled into the condom still inside of you. He heaved a breath pulling away, more than satisfied with his work. “If this is going to become a regular thing we’re gonna have to sort out that foul mouth aren’t we.” He had already pulled out and discarded the used condom into the bin under the sink, pulling his boxers back into place and zipping up his jeans. You were still catching your breath, a grip so tight on the marble of the sink you thought it might break under you. “This isn’t a regular thing Targaryen.” You pulled your panties back into place yet he pulled your dress back down to cover your ass, smacking it softly before speaking “might want to fix that makeup then, don’t want the whole party knowing you were getting fucked by a Targaryen if you hate me so much.” And with that he opened the door and left, the music shifting to unnecessarily loud as the door swung open. Thankfully the hall was empty yet you locked the door again anyway, cleaning yourself up, he had been honest about not being a gentlemen clearly. Yet with your makeup fixed and your hair as untangled as you could make it, you braved the hoards of party goers again, getting far drunker than you’d like to admit.

You did hate him, and his bratty attitude .

To say monday was mortifying would at the least be an understatement. Not because he spoke to you, rather because he didn’t. He looked right through you when he walked past on campus, and when Professor Baratheon informed the entirety of your class that you were being paired up for the upcoming end of term presentation, a gnawing feeling settled deep into your gut. Somehow this was definitely not going to go your way.

“I will send around an email after today’s lecture with the spread sheet for your partner’s and presentation topic.” Baratheon concluded, earning murmurs of slight annoyance from many students. More often than not everyone wanted to work on their own, the corporate industries claimed they needed teamwork yet to get your way anywhere it was a single ladder only one person could climb, meaning group projects more often than not counted for very little when applying for jobs and internships.

A competitive industry needed a competitive mind, that was what you liked to tell yourself anyway.

Thankfully however, that had been your last lecture of the day. So you left campus back to your shitty little third floor apartment that was either too hot or too cold, but it was all that you could afford given you worked as a waitress as many hours as you could afford to a week. Not ideal but the landlord was a decent enough lady who was more lenient on rent for the uni students she accommodated, as finding shared housing in King’s Landing was like finding a needle in a haystack, especially since so many of the students were trust fund babies with personal drivers and multiple houses around the country.

One person you could always count on however, was Rowan. She was just like you, a girl from a small town near the Reach who had moved to the city on a whim in hopes of a degree from her work in the weekdays and getting pissed on the weekends. So you roomed with her in the two-bed flat, and complained about the price of the food shop and heating bill- because though nobody says it King’s Landing gets fucking cold in the winter.

Rowan studied finance, a more specialised degree yet equally as competitive. She was far more intelligent than she ever gave herself credit for, though that didn’t mean she had the smarts when it came to other things. Like not realising leaving the bathroom light and extractor fan on all night costed money. That had been your first argument as roommates, finally out of halls and feeling like first time adults, receiving your first electricity bill.

“But it shouldn’t be this much!” She yelled, “I only leave the fan on when I shower late, fan’s don’t cost money the light does!”

“Rowan, fans run on electricity. And you need to leave the light on for the fan to run. And you’ve done that nearly every night this month.” You explained, taking the bill from her and laughing lightly. You could both cover it, but it couldn’t become a regular occurrence. “Ugh.” She groaned, leaning back to lie on the living room rug. “I’m gonna get so rich one day my children will never have to work a day in their life. This is hell.”

“Cheers to that.”

It did happen again occasionally, but it was still amusing nonetheless. You tried not to stress about money, let it control you probably the way it should. But you always worked it out in the end so what was the big deal?

You didn’t even have time to check your emails before getting changed for work. Your lecture finished at four thirty and you started work at five, including changing and a ten minute walk you were cutting it fine. But it was a monday night, hardly the busiest day of the week unless there was a birthday or celebration being held at the restaurant. It was certainly a decent place, highly favoured by many in the city for its nice atmosphere. Was it the nicest place to work however? No. Not even close. Managers who changed the schedule last minute and acted like they’d done it three weeks in advance, bartenders who preferred to flirt over do their job, and chef’s who yelled at you over customer dietary preferences that were quite literally out of your control. But it was minimum wage and guaranteed hours, as good as you were going to get for now.

Arrival time? 4:58pm.

Cutting it fine technically but who wants to hang around when they’re not being paid? That was what you told yourself anyway. An easy enough shift, phone turned off in the back pocket of your trousers because gods forbid you even take it out to check the time, your manager would have you written up for improper conduct in the workplace. When you started your walk back far later than necessary, that was when you checked your phone. Twenty eight emails and two text messages from an unknown number.

UNKNOWN

Ignoring me now are you?

Were the emails not enough I had to chase down your phone number.

You shook your head in confusion before opening your emails, twenty six of which were from one consistent address; [email protected]

You shook your head lightly with a scoff, scrolling through what could only be described as consistent spam from his singular email address before finding the spreadsheet sent from Professor Baratheon, tied to the presentation: Strategic Management.

“Oh fuck me.” You mumbled, getting your keys out of your bag as you turned the final stairs to your flat door- the lift had been out of order since you’d moved in. Rowan was lounging on the sofa when you entered, “how was work?”

“Crap.”

“Yeah. I was expecting that. Come watch, Couples of Westeros is on.” Dropping your bag you complied, kicking off your shoes and settling onto the couch. It was a shitty love show, focused on pairing up people who all seemed highly incompatible in hopes to find a match that would win fifty grand. Most went on for fame, but it was occasionally amusing nonetheless. Your eyes remained glued to your phone however, agitation creeping into your skin from the audacity of the man who had spent the better part of three hours trying to get ahold of you. You’d only been at work for five and a half. “What’s the matter?”

“I’ve been paired up with bloody Daeron Targaryen for my end of term presentation.” You complained, resting your head on her shoulder. “Oh babe. Have fun with that one, he won’t do fuck all.”

“Don’t you think I know that! Ugh!” You shut off your phone finally and relaxed, watching some shitty tv and eating take away pizza.

In truth you hadn’t expected much from Daeron to help, so you started alone in the library tuesday afternoon after your lectures, seeing as Daeron hadn’t bothered to show up to those you figured there was no use in asking him if he intended on helping at all today. Yet he waltzed in like it wasn’t absurdly late to be arriving when he had no lectures and sat down at your table like he fucking owned it. You cast your eyes to him briefly, “can I help you?”

“You didn’t answer me.” He replied, taking out his phone and showing you the increased amount of messages he had sent you since last night, you only managed an eye roll in response. “Yeah I was busy.”

“Doing what, it was a monday night.” He asked like it was a matter of fact, that because he did nothing on a monday night, nobody should be doing anything on a monday night. “Working.” You replied curtly, you weren’t in the mood for his antics you had two weeks until the end of term and that was two weeks to perfect this presentation and maintain your slightly above average grades and he certainly was not going to dim what you had worked so hard to ignite. “Oh.” He said, shaking his head lightly. “Anyway. This project, what do you need me to do.”

“Stay out of it and let me do it. I’ll send you a transcript of what needs to be said.”

“Mmm no. It’s my grade too.”

“And you haven’t submitted a piece of work since first year, your father’s been paying off the professors.”

“I didn’t know that was public knowledge.” He grinned lightly in amusement, as if him wasting such a privilege of education was nothing short of a running joke.

“It’s not exactly hard to figure out is it.” You quipped, turning back to your laptop to look over the notes you had planned out for what would take place where. “So you do pay attention to me then.” He raised an eyebrow, again still all too amused for your liking.

“Yes because there’s not someone having a conversation over the top of the rest of us trying to pay attention.” You replied curtly, “Listen you’re gonna pass anyway, I actually need to work for this. So if you don’t mind I’d just like to get on with it.”

“And I’m here to help.”

“You’re not a help you’re a hindrance.”

“Harsh.”

“Go. Away.”

With a sigh he admitted defeat and rose from the table, before reading over your shoulder. “Credited references, very sophisticated.”

“Go!”

His laughter was inescapable as he left the library, not a care in the fucking world. At least he was giving you that privilege, you supposed.

The days that followed were painful, when Daeron did contribute in the partnered work on campus, it was only to distract you. He had made you late to work twice, nearly late a further four times, meaning somehow in the span of two weeks you had been put onto a final warning with management. Not to mention when he didn’t show up he was messaging you. You had half a mind to block his number but you knew if the pair of you didn’t have communication for your project it could be used against you if he went to Baratheon about why he wasn’t involved. So you shared your ideas, guided him on what to say, and hoped for the best. However your best was not enough, because on the friday of the presentations Daeron did not show. All he had to do was stand there, say three sentences, and be marked as present in order for you both to pass. And he did not do it. He had confirmed with you not even an hour beforehand and he still did not show. To say you were beyond angry was an understatement. All of your hard work was now for nothing, because your presentation (although alone) had been flawless, but because he did not participate or give reason for absence, you were both failed for the assignment. A cruel reality about how if there was not clear equal participation, both parties were failed for not completing the assignment as it was instructed.

You stayed behind at the end to speak with Baratheon himself, waiting until the last had exited the hall. The lecture had run late due to the presentations so you were already cutting it fine, but you were going to fight your case and you were going to fight it fair.

“I already know what you are going to say, but it is in the task assignment and I cannot change it.” Baratheon begun, he was somewhat sympathetic, but it was just another harsh reality. Though he did feel bad that this harsh reality had been a lesson for you, as it would not affect Daeron in the slightest. “Professor please, I’ll take anything, a fail grade, the lowest percentage you can. I presented you can’t mark down I did not complete the assignment whatsoever that’s lower than a fail, I spent weeks on this!” You pleaded, you were shaking with anger. “He told me he was coming not even an hour before- he was supposed to come he’s chosen not to he’s done this to me on purpose! You and I both know I’m the only one who will suffer for this.”

“I’m sorry. But this is how it works. Take it up with him. There’s nothing I can do for you. I can give you an independent feedback statement but it won’t count for anything.” He explained, yet you huffed in annoyance. How utterly useless was he? There had to be some extenuating circumstances in this type of situation. Daeron had done this out of pure spite, there was no way he hadn’t. However glancing at your phone screen and seeing 4:48pm was another kick to the gut. You turned on your heel and headed for the exit without further word to Baratheon, clearly he didn’t care for your education, technically why would he? But you expected more help than he had provided.

A quick message to your manager was all you could hope would spare you the wrath of what would face you when you arrived to work. Yet somehow you knew today was absolutely not your day. A rushed getting changed and sprinting along the cobblestone streets to make it to the restaurant, only to get inside and be taken to the managers office. Geoff wasn’t unfair, but he wasn’t all that nice either. He’d let you off twice now and you knew what was coming. So you pleaded. “I know I’ve messed up and I’m sorry- it’s this one project at uni but it’s over with now and I swear none of it will ever interfere again.” You needed this job, it wasn’t that you wanted it, you needed it to survive.

“Go home.” Was all he said, he turned back to his computer and continued typing, causing you to frown.

“But I need this shift.”

“And you are no longer an employee of this establishment. It is five eighteen, your shift started at five. Three strikes of incompetence in two weeks is not good enough. You’re a lovely girl, but you know the rules.” He explained, printing out something on a piece of paper, folding it and handing it to you. You mentally cursed, tears welling in your eyes. This could not be happening.

“Listen. There’ll be other places hiring soon. Just hang on until summer.”

“I can’t hang on until summer.” Your lip quivered involuntarily, this was quite literally your worst case scenario.

“I had to fire Emmy last month for being late, and Leon before her for the same. It’s not personal, I just have to uphold a standard.”

All you could manage was a nod, and a meek thank you for the opportunity before turning on your heel, you wouldn’t burn your bridges yet, despite knowing in your heart you would not be taken back.

Upon you returning home sniffling twenty minutes later, Rowan had cheered you up in the only way she knew how. An invitation to the Lannister house party. So you put on your slutty little outfit, as Rowan liked to call it, and headed to go catch the tube. “We are so not making the last train home.” You mumbled, holding onto the pole next to you as the train jolted. She laughed “Then I guess we’re drinking till the sun comes up.” Not out of question for the pair of you, you’d certainly had quite some nights since moving in together.

To say the Lannister estate was full would be an understatement, you’d arrived late, sure, but the house was certainly overflowing. “Come on.” She grabbed your arm and hauled you up the driveway, past the people making out on the front lawn and other’s doing some questionable activities. Once you’d settled and got yourself some drinks was when the real party started, you didn’t especially care for how much you were drinking. It was free.

However after making out with some random guy and drinking enough that your eardrums were pounding, you headed to find a bathroom to try and sober up. Opening the first one you found, you were greeted with the sight of Daeron making out with some girl sat on the sink. You grimaced and shut the door almost immediately, looking for another bathroom. Daeron did not hesitate to discard of the poor girl and call your name down the corridor. You pretended not to hear him and continued walking through the maze these people called a house, finding one of the unoccupied guest bedrooms you went inside and slammed the door. Daeron forced it open anyway, likely equally as intoxicated as you with his fucking dopey smile. You wanted to hit him. Knock out his perfect teeth and make something about the way he looked less fucking perfect. Make him suffer for hurting you in a way that was more than personal, a way that literally compromised the way you lived.

“What’s the matter with you?” He mumbled, caging you against the wall as you pushed against his chest. “What’s the matter with me?” You voice rose, pupils constricted to an obscene level from the pure anger radiating through you, sobering up significantly by the minute, the tone of your voice forcing him to do the same.

“You hurt me!”

“Seven hells it was one stupid project.”

“That has failed me for an entire term of hard fucking work! I lost my fucking job because of you!” You yelled, tears of anger welling in your eyes as you couldn’t quite help it.

“It’s one term, so what.” He discarded it like it was nothing, like you hadn’t been overworking yourself to get to this point, that you weren’t living off of cheap meals, coffee and enough money to barely survive the week. You were overworked, overtired and overwhelmed by life. “So what? I worked my ass off, you didn’t have to do anything but show up and you couldn’t even fucking do that! It was an automatic fail Daeron, all of that counted for nothing not to mention I lost my fucking job because miraculously in only two weeks of being around me you managed to make me late to the point that I got fired for fucking incompetence!”

“Should have bought a watch.”

A scoff of disbelief left you, you couldn’t believe how he could just not care. How you were there, present in front of him, so filled with emotion practically trying to draw something out of him, some part of him had to care. But it was like drawing blood from a fucking stone.

“I fucking hate you! In two weeks you’ve managed to fuck up my entire life because of how you are! You’ve fucking spoiled you don’t care about anyone but yourself!” You spat, yet again. He didn’t care.

“At least now you know what real hatred feels like.”

You sobbed lightly, the alcohol and anger becoming an overwhelming fix. “What so all of this was just to give me a fucking reason? Prove me right for what I already knew?!”

“No. Just a bit of fun really.”

“Destroying my life was just a bit of fun?!”

“Don’t be so dramatic.” He chided, hands grasping your wrists and pinning them against the wall. “Your life isn’t ruined it’s one fucking assignment. Getting another job you’ll do that easy.”

“You just don’t get it.” Another sob escaped you, even if this could be fixed in some way it was still starting over, and you were not a person who enjoyed unexpected change.

“But you still want me don’t you baby? That’s why you hate it.” His lips found your jaw, you turned your head from him yet he chased you with his lips. “No. I don’t fucking want you, I never did.” You hissed, yet you couldn’t help but whimper as his lips connected to your throat. You didn’t want to want him, he had hurt you so badly in ways that were inexplicable yet you were so close to just giving in entirely.

“Hit me, push me away. That’ll work. But telling me you hate me isn’t going to make me want to stop.” He kissed back up to your jaw, then your cheek, until you were eye to eye once again. “You want me. Say it.”

“I don’t want you.” Your tears had stilled now, biting into your lower lip as you gazed up at his eyes, his pupils wide with anticipation. “But do you want me to fuck you?” He asked, he was drawing you closer to submission, he wouldn’t touch you unless you asked, you knew he wouldn’t. But you were too damn stubborn to give him the satisfaction.

“Come on, you had so much to say.” he pried, hands letting go of your wrists just to see if you’d push him away. But you didn’t. You couldn’t bring yourself to. You kissed him instead, grabbing his face and pulling him close. “I still fucking hate you.”

“I’m not fucking you unless you ask me to, say you hate me all you want but I won’t touch you.” It was like an order, he wanted to keep that control. Make you say that you wanted him. “Say it.” He whispered, teeth finding your earlobe.

You caved, “please fuck me.”

“There’s my girl.” He responded, allowing you to push him back to the bed as he kissed you, only breaking as he let himself fall onto his back as you straddled his hips atop the mattress. “You’re gonna use your fucking connections and you’re gonna get me a new job offer.” You were telling him, not asking. His family owned restaurants and clubs purely for the sake of owning, all it needed was one word of needing an extra set of hands and with your CV you’d be in. You were usually against such things but in these circumstances you needed the money and it was the least he owed you. “Yeah. Yeah I will.” He nodded, pulling your top over your head as his hands immediately went to your breasts, palming at them needily. You grabbed his hands and pulled them off of you, his mouth forming into a pout as you did so. “Undress.”

“Yes ma’am.”

He didn’t need telling further lifting his hips, and you, to rid himself of his clothes, shirt coming off last as you removed what you were wearing. You leant down to kiss him again, grinding against his already hard cock “this isn’t going to fix anything.”

“Yeah.” He whined, “yeah I know.”

“I’m not fucking you without a condom.” You told him, you knew he probably slept around and you were not taking that risk either way. You watched him fumble to put it on, only then did you resume your touching, without letting him reciprocate.

“Don’t be cruel, let me touch you.” He complained, again trying to palm your breasts but you didn’t let him, smacking his hands away as you guided his cock to your dripping entrance. “You hurt me.”

“I know baby, I know I did but please I’ll make it right.” He pleaded, you pulled his hair lifting his head so that he could meet you in a devastating kiss as he bottomed out inside of you with a groan. “But tonight isn’t going to fix anything. Because you ruined everything.” And with that being said you begun to ride him, well, rock against him rather. Seeking your own pleasure as your clit bumped against his pelvis, the hair as the base of his cock tickling you.

You were using him he realised. And he was going to take it as you were giving it because he certainly wasn’t going to get anything better.

You’d never heard a man whimper quite like Daeron, he released it needy and unrestrained. It was beautiful. If he wasn’t such an easy person to hate you might have admired how freely he let himself enjoy sex. But still, you chased your own pleasure against the gratification of his own, yet he seemed to be enjoying himself all the same as you clenched around him, your sex growing wetter and sloppier by the second. You refused to say his name, give him that satisfaction, yet yours fell freely and consistently from his lips as he threw his head back in pure ecstasy.

“Come on princess let me help you.” He whined, his hands digging into the fat of your hips as he planted his feet into the mattress, knees bent, pushing himself impossibly further inside of you. “Don’t need your help.” You mumbled, eyes clenched shut as you felt your release draw close. You both knew it, you let him ignore your instruction. “I know you don’t but let me.” He begun to thrust upwards into you, forcing you forward as your breasts pressed against his chest and his arms circled you, pinning you against him as you moaned. “You gonna cum for me yeah? Let me feel you whole again, give it to me.” He asked, cut off by his own grunts as he forced himself to hold back for your sake. You nodded “yeah- yeah fuck, oh fuck!”

“That’s it. Don’t fight it. I want you to cum on my cock princess, all f’me.”

You didn’t hold back, you felt all too much at once, eyes clenched shut as he drew his lips against your temple as his own release begun to run through him. He let out a strangled moan as he filled the condom inside of you once again, panting against your hair as he rubbed your back softly, muttering “you’re too good to me.”

“Nothings changed.” You mumbled into his chest, letting his hands wander to feel every inch of your being. “I think something has.” Was all he could bring himself to say as you tore yourself from his embrace and gathered yourself, still catching your breath as you stood on shaky legs to find your clothes. You were going to get as far away from him as possible, purely on the basis of principle. And you did. Dressing in a hurry as he watched the door then slam shut behind you.

He discarded the condom, lying back he ran a hand through his hair, before pinching the bridge of his nose. He had truly believed you would stay, as naive as it sounded. He thought maybe this would change something, and it had for him, he couldn’t doubt that. Yet for you, he still couldn’t quite work you out as much as he’d have liked to by now. So he stayed led there, naked in all his glory, running through every possible outcome of how he could change probably his biggest fuckup in a long damn time, and get you to truly want him without the hatred making the pair of you just sex.

A/N: probably gonna be a lot of modern AU’s coming from me atm because that’s my latest obsession so i might make a general modern AU taglist alongside my general taglist for anyone who only wants to be tagged in modern AU’s, so if anyone wants to be added lmk!!

also i’m kind of obsessed with spoiled daddy’s boy’s daeron + aerion like ughhh i love writing them so there will likely be an aerion version coming! [+ if anyone has any requests for other akotsk characters modern au's pls feel free to submit bc im so into this at the moment!!]

anyway as always: likes, comments, reblogs and any interactions at all are always always appreciated - take care everyone

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.

general akotsk taglist:

@noone1233nobody @antobooh @mikariell95 @kravitzwhore @vanillafan6 @ae-gax @galactict3a @aleemendoza2425-blog @feral-postings @n3rdybirdee @mossthedevouring @loveslide @serduncansdelight @seekingtherapyasap @moonlights-muse @icebearcucumber @poisonedsultana @qardasngan

daeron targaryen taglist: tbc (message me or comment asking to be added!!)

modern akotsk au taglist:

@ihtscuddlesbeeetchx3

(message me or comment asking to be added!!)

[pls note if you are already on the general akotsk taglist you will already be tagged in any fics for any character!]

𓇢

♎︎

Valarr Targaryen was a kind man, in both spirit and temperament, not a soul could deny it. Staff and Lords were all treated as one of the same, he gave everyone the same look and smile, social status meant little to him in matters of courtesy. This was ultimately why he had never protested an arranged marriage to you, the daughter of Daemon Blackfyre. It would settle the Blackfyre’s for certain, as Daemon would no longer need to protest if a son of his blood sat the iron throne in decades to come. Valarr had done it for the realm, or so he had told himself anyway. He had not been allowed to properly court you before the wedding and eventually deemed it the best case scenario, as to be wed was to be final, till death do you part.

That was two years ago, no heir had been yet produced from your marriage but nobody could bring themselves to qualm such a thing. You were both young and so far unburdened by too much responsibility, it gave the impression of a level headed couple to have their heir the realms heir when you both felt mature enough to settle into parenthood. However no one could quite deny how Valarr doted on you, your parentage never fazed him, he loved you dearly as his wife all the same. Yet it angered many of the court that the daughter of a Blackfyre Bastard had weaselled her way into the bed of a crown prince. Men glared, ladies whispered, your own handmaidens seemingly could not stand you.

It made for a painful existence.

You felt you had no right to complain, you were not suffering, you were never harmed, you were untouchable. By everything but words.

Valarr could never know, he would never know in your mind. You swore to protect him from it because you knew in your heart your happiness made him happy, and you did not wish to upset the one greatest gift the gods had given you.

The mirror of your bedchamber was vast, you had slipped from your bed later than you wished to admit, however Valarr still lounger within the covers as you adjusted your dress.

“Would you help me tie the back?” You asked softly, a gentle smile graced your husband as he rose to your command, tying the back of the corset far gentler than any of your handmaidens would. “You know I do not mind doing such for you, but you have handmaidens for it.” He spoke, there was no scolding in his voice, only fact. It made you feel all the more worse for lying to him. “They do not do it to my satisfaction, not the way my husband does.” His lips found the bare skin of your shoulder, before he sunk his teeth in, leaving a red crescent bite mark of entirely his own. “I have matters to attend to, I must shadow my father and then the master of coin. I should return to you after dinner but if you need me I will not go.”

“Don’t be silly, I can survive a day alone, so long as you do intend on returning to our bed.” He chuckled quietly, soothing the skin where he bit moments ago with a hasty kiss. “I do not intend to leave you to suffer the night alone.”

“Good, then we should have no issues then should we?” Reluctantly he loosened his grip to go and dress himself, have some final moments with you before the day forced you to part. You hated it, you always did, but there was nothing that you could ever do to have your husband to yourself, because the realm needed him just as much as you did and it always would. You had struggled to come to terms with it at first, feeling so alone in the RedKeep and trying to find your own navigation outside of him, but you had managed. Eventually.

Your day went as it usually would, your father by law, Prince Baelor, had never denied you anything, meaning he allowed you to be utterly free in exploring his extensive private library. You locked yourself in there the entirety of the day, losing yourself amongst the books of Valyrian and Westerosi history, reading his annotations and understanding deeper how tensions rose and fell amongst men for things that now seemed so minuscule and petty. Though, many of the things that still happened in the current day would similarly be written down into the maester’s books as the cycle continued.

Valarr’s day however, had been eventful, but entirely boring. He listened and he learned and he contributed, but he did not care for such things. But he attended to them with loyal duty as a prince should, therefore no one could spot the indifference. Walking with the master of coin after supper, he passed the council chamber only to overhear a conversation unbefitting of some lowly lords to be counselling.

“All I am saying Harding, is that it’s a monstrosity the King accepted that bastards proposal. It is rewarding them for rebellion, what’s to stop other houses rebelling for marriage to a prince in line?” Lord Symon, a representative of the reach in court, nobody particularly memorable to Valarr, seemingly only for the spite he now recognised to carry for his wife. “I hear you.” Lord Harding answered, likely nodding along, many Lord’s found themselves to be followers, not leaders, as proven by the current conversation. “The girl’s got nothing for herself has she, doesn’t even utilise the maids because of the spite they carry, but can anyone blame them? She’s of bastard ancestry, public bastardy, keep in mind, she’s lower than them in that aspect. Yet they are expected to serve her as if she means more for bedding a prince?”

Valarr could hear no more, the master of coin had cringed and attempted to stop him, “My Prince, men like that do not understand the worth of a woman. Do not sully yourself with their petty argument. Nothing can change who your wife is, and she is kind and gentle. Those that know her, know that these words are nothing more than meaningless-” Valarr had departed the conversation into the council chamber. Had the door not already been ajar the slam against the stoned wall may not have been as rattling as it was. The conversation had stilled, and faces had paled. “Do continue, my Lord, you were discussing such frivolous topics regarding the parentage of my wife’s father?”

“No- no my prince. It is not necessary.” Harding stuttered, his face had gone a rather awful shade of purple, as if he was choking on his own treasonous words.

“No? You would deny a prince of the realm would you?” Valarr raised an eyebrow, his eyes held a look almost venomous, something he had never seemingly possessed prior to such a conversation. “Well then my Lord’s, I suppose you may well have to take a trip to the King, do not worry, I would never sully myself with dealing with you at my own hand. Though the hand of the King may well, I suggest you run along.” He had half expected the pair to run from the keep or jump from the ramparts yet seemingly they had enough obedience to confess in their own words to the King and Hand as to what had occurred, resulting in an immediate and indefinite exile to their own lands, not to return to court.

A maid had come to run you a bath, the water far too painfully scalding for you to wash now, so you permitted her leave and added your own oils before curling up in the armchair, watching the fire crackle and burn itself slowly. The door to your bedchamber opened before swinging shut with a force unbecoming of your husband, his face holding an expression you had never needed to understand, yet now you wish you did. He did not speak to you, let alone look at you. He stepped heavily into the bathroom, eyeing the bathwater before dipping two fingers into it and wincing slightly. He shook the water off before coming back out, the reason he entered seemingly long forgotten. “That bath is scalding.” He stated, his pupils were pinpoint even in the dim light, you did not know what to make of him. “It is as I like it, I like to let my oils linger in the water before I-”

“How long.” He cut you off, causing you to stumble over your words ever so slightly. “How long?” You repeated, shaking your head in confusion. “How long have you been being actively mistreated right under my nose.” He pried, stepping closer until he was towering over you. “Husband, I do not know how you have come to such a conclusion, I am not being mistreated.” You faked a soft smile, you were convincing yourself as much as you were him, taking his hand into your own yet he shook you off almost instantly. “No.” He stated, shaking his head just as his body was rising in anger. “Tell me how long your maids have been mistreating you, or you’ve heard the whispers of the Lord’s and Lady’s at court. Tell me.”

“They do not like who I am, husband. Because of my name. My name and heritage are not something I will ever be able to discard, no matter if I am now Targaryen.” You tried to reason, tried to be gentle, but he was having none of it as his voice begun to raise. “You have been suffering since our marriage begun and not only have you hidden such from me, you have lied to my face. Made excuses for them, allowed me to treat them with respect and kindness that they do not deserve!”

“Your image to this realm means more than how I am treated! You cannot allow yourself to become angered by what these people think!”

“But it has been consistently hurting you and you have said nothing! You have hidden away- become a recluse and I have allowed it because I believed it made you happy but it is not happiness dear wife it is coping! You are the future queen of this realm your life should not be coping it should be prosperity! Gods how could I ever be so blind!” He was not shouting, his voice carried loud and hollow, a shy laugh of bitterness escaping him as he shook his head in disbelief. “You know I thought you were happy, now I realise I do not even know your true happiness.”

“I am happy with you! I love you! Being with you, you are the only one to see my happiness, husband!” You stood, eyes pleading with his as you encased his trembling hands within your own. “You have brought me more happiness than I have ever known, more than I could ever ask for. That is enough.”

“You deserve to be loved by these people. They do not deserve you. They do not understand how perfect you are.”

“The only opinion I care about, have ever cared about since this begun. Is yours. Their’s mean so little to me, I know you want nothing more than for me to be happy. I knew it would only upset you and cause you to worry when you should not have to. This was my choice and my doing. Allow me the grace of fixing it.” You pleaded once again, his forehead came to place against your own as a shaky exhale escaped him. “It is not right.”

“But it is not something we can fix, do not give them reason to further resent me by forcing them to accept me.” You lifted your lips to join his own, he did not reciprocate at first, he was too tied up in his own mind to realise his knees had buckled against the edge of the mattress and you were clambering into his lap. His hands circled your waist as he pulled you closer, furthering the kiss until he broke it to suck at your neck, leaving red blooming marks in the wake of his tender lips. “I should be making you feel better.” He mumbled against your collarbone, pupils now blown wide as the firelight caught his mismatched eyes. “This is making me feel better.” You chided, kissing his jaw down to his neck before sinking to your knees on the floor, gazing up at him.

Your fingers made quick work of the ties of his breeches, you nuzzled at his cock through his soft undergarments causing a whine to escape him involuntarily. You smirked lightly before looking up at him once again, he gave you the breathlessness nod that you had been searching for, urging you to continue your worship of him. His cock sprung free against his navel, thick and stubborn, aching for your touch. It was your lips that took him first, swirling your tongue around the tip as you sucked softly. He made such pretty sounds for you, ones he never did intend to make.

“All mine.” He mumbled, his hand tangling into your hair to guide you softly as you released him, “All yours.” His eyes clenched shut as you begun to guide your mouth both up down his shaft in swift repetitive movements, your free hand squeezing his balls gently enough for more moans to escape him.

“Fuck- I’m not- I can’t please let me.” He whimpered as you released him, pressing a soft kiss to his tip. “Please let you what?” You asked innocently, already hiking your thin shift, which you had been earlier preparing to remove to bathe, up to your hips. “I want to be inside of you.”

You straddled his waist once again, you were slick from sucking his cock alone, combined with the spit from your mouth covering his cock you were more than ready to take him then and there. “Yes, just like that.” He slowly begun his descent inside of you, forcing your own moans from your throat as he led back against the mattress. You braced your hands against his firm shoulders before beginning to rock against him rhythmically as his face contorted through a range of emotions. “You always know what I need.” He sighed, hands helping your hips as you begun to lift as well as rock faster. You tangled a hand into his hair, pulling his head up to crash his lips on your own as your combined wetness begun to lather the room in obscene sounds. The closer he reached to his peak, the closer he pulled you, until you were both shaking from the aftershocks of your combined orgasms, as you held him in your arms. You continued to pepper him in soft praises, kissing him wherever you could reach, removing his shirts so that finally, along with your shift now discarded on the floor, he could pull you entirely bare against his skin and admire you for all you were.

Because what you meant to each other was enough.

A/N: first of all i just hit 600 followers and i honestly cannot thank you all enough, im so grateful for every single one of you you keep me so incredibly motivated and i love love love interacting with you all, thank you all so so much!!

i’ve never written for valarr before, but i decided i’d give it a go and honestly he’s so interesting to write for because we know so little about him it gives me so much free reign it’s brilliant!! lemme know if u want more of him.

anyway as always: likes, comments, reblogs and any interactions at all are always always appreciated - take care everyone

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.

general akotsk taglist:

@noone1233nobody @antobooh @mikariell95 @kravitzwhore @vanillafan6 @ae-gax @galactict3a @aleemendoza2425-blog @feral-postings @n3rdybirdee @mossthedevouring @loveslide @serduncansdelight @seekingtherapyasap @moonlights-muse @icebearcucumber @poisonedsultana

valarr targaryen taglist:

currently to be published, comment or message me to be added!

@piscesseasOn @starcrossedtrek @ihtscuddlesbeeetchx3 @nerdyinfluencertastemaker @

“We can’t keep doing this.” Yet he had you straddling his lap anyway, in his private office after hours as it always happened. Your kisses fluttered against the column of his neck gently as he grunted, beard brushing the tip of your nose as you continued to give him your affection.

“You say this, Maekar, then you ask me to stay late anyway.”

“You don’t think I know that?” He huffed, “I expected you to say no at least once yet every fucking time you show up f’me.”

“You’ve never given me a reason not to.” You pulled away softly, eyes looking up to his own as he gazed down at you, nothing short of adoration was found in his gaze yet his words continued to deny that this was proper. Which it was not. Fucking your boss was a certain way to get fired, but to your eyes he held a perfectionism you couldn’t quite rid your infatuation of.

“They cannot know, my brother cannot know.” He frowned, fingers digging into the fat of your ass before delivering a harsh smack to it, the sound muffled by that of your skirt as you shifted in his hold. “Which one, my dear?” You teased tracing his jawline with a singular perfect nail, “Because last I recall, Rhaegel is more than aware of our escapades.” At the mention of his drunk brother he grimaced entirely. Rhaegel held high placement within the Targaryen Corporation, yet he was nothing more than a name, as he truly did no work and rarely showed his face anywhere that wasn’t a bar. Yet miraculously he had somehow stumbled in on your private evening with Maekar in his study a few months ago, intending of finding a forbidden bottle of scotch but instead found you between his brother’s legs. An awkward conversation from Maekar’s perspective, yet Rhaegel was only rather amused in being sworn to secrecy, as Maekar put it.

“Rhaegel is a fucking alcoholic, if he knows what’s good for him he’ll keep quiet.” As much as he tried to sound certain, Maekar could never and would never be able to bring himself to actually give his brother consequence for telling, he had a soft spot as he was closest in age to himself. But a good cut to the jaw from his fist should straighten him out should his tongue need winding back in.

“He is your brother, Maekar. You shouldn’t threaten family.”

“Hm. You say that, but what would you know about any of it?”

Your brows furrowed upon instinct, his implication of you being lesser, that you knew less when in truth he did not know what you knew of. He didn’t know your life, he just knew if he pushed you enough you would come crawling back into his arms aching for his touch because it was all you had these days, as far as he was aware anyway. “Don’t give me that shit because you’re feeling insecure.” You argued, lips pulled away entirely from him as he continued to gaze down at you thoroughly.

“Insecure? You have more to lose here than I.”

The scoff that escaped you did not go unnoticed, but neither did the slam of your back into the mahogany of his desk as he displayed you out in front of him, reading for his devotion. His mouth attacked your own, his tongue forced between your lips as his beard brushed your face. The sounds leaving you both breathlessly from this alone was nothing short of obscene, he grunted at the linen of your tights, tearing them in two and pulling the scraps down off of your thighs until they freed your legs entirely.

“Do you know how many pairs you’ve ruined?”

“I’ll buy you more, if you behave.” His hands gnawed at your skirt before forcing it above your hips.”

“Just take it off.”

“No.” He reprimanded, fingers digging into your thigh as his free hand pushed you to lie flat against the table as you clutched at his shirt to pull him closer. “But-” You protested quietly before he interrupted harshly, “I thought I fucking told you to behave.” The buttons of your blouse were pulled free as he begun his descent in kisses, from your jaw, down to your collarbone, to your sternum, his wire like beard being less than shy in its red crescent marks left in its wake. A gasped escaped you as his lips found the skin above your navel, he tugged down your lace panties, freeing your core to the cool air. He grunted, pressing a kiss to your folds before parting them with his tongue. The feel of his mouth against you so intimately fought a whimper at your tongue, a whimper that turned into a strangled moan as he tongued at your centre. Yet he pulled away, eyes casting up at you, “Do you want us to be fucking caught by a cleaner? Compose yourself woman.”

“You’re acting as if you’re not eating me out right now- that warrants some fucking reaction, Maekar.” You gagged lightly as he forced two of his fingers past your lips, you sucked them upon instinct, a fact he knew would shut you up because you had no choice, before he turned back to his devotion. He allowed your fingers to tangle within his hair, though he’d have to fix it before he left the building, he didn’t mind it in the moment. The feel of your nails scratching at his scalp was grounding in an inexplainable way. If he had you shirtless, the claw marks were engraved down his spine for days, sometimes he even feared for the state of the dragon that adorned his back in dark ink, that one day you would truly dig too deep inside of him and claw the dragon apart.

When he deemed you had sufficiently come apart enough on his tongue to take him, he retracted entirely, you stared up at him, taking in every part of his movements as his belt was gracelessly discarded and the button of his trousers undone as he readied himself in his hand.

His cock was large, larger than average, heavy and thick too, distinct veins marked it in several places as the tip of it throbbed, aching with precum. He notched only the tip inside, stretching you gently as your eyes welled with tears. He leant down to you anyway, drowned your mouth with a kiss so that only once he was fully inside, he could muffle the moans he knew were going to begin steadily spilling out of you. “That’s it, taking me so well.” He praised, his tongue forcing its way back into your mouth to hold you from responding as he bottomed out inside of you. His thrusts were methodical, and deep. Yet when he gave you a moment free of his mouth to breathe you hit his back softly, “Lose the shirt, let me see you.” He only laughed at your desperation, allowing you to undo the first few buttons before pinning your wrists together and pushing them above your head. “Mind yourself, you are not in control here.”

“Oh yeah? Maybe you need to remind me who-”

He seemingly lost all sense. His pace grew brutal, the sting of skin on skin leaving raw marks on your thighs, the hair at the base of his cock tickling against you with every thrust as his cock kissed your cervix in a way that was near bruising, yet you craved it all the same, caving to his will as he moulded you against him.

“Lose the attitude.” It was you who kissed him now, deeply as he fucked you to near inconsolable as you lost yourself in his touch, begging and pleading for more as he rubbed vicious circles on your clit. “You going to cum for me? Cum on my cock? Answer when spoken to.”

“Yes! Yes I’m gonna cum!” You cried, you believed you were relatively quiet yet the satisfaction on his face told you another story. “So loud f’me, aren’t you?” He slapped your clit lightly, causing you to jolt involuntarily against him, “go on, if you want to cum you’ve got to tell me how much you want it.” He grunted, his forehead pressed flush against your own as your tits bounced, willing to be free with every thrust.

“I want it- want you- please, please let me cum!” You pleaded, your begging was evidently satisfactory as small groans begun to leave him utterly uncontrolled as he nodded.

“Yeah, yeah cum for me, cum on my cock.”

It was nothing short of ecstasy as you released on him, surrendering the most intimate part of you to him. His own release escaped him without hesitation, burying himself inside of you and letting himself go. Maybe it was surrender, but given who he was it was likely a deep sense of control, a satisfaction that irrevocably pleasured him more than he willed to admit.

The pair of you were combined in breathlessness, yet his kisses didn’t stop until he felt content enough to pull away from your surrender.

A/N: i’ve always loved reading the modern au’s for akotsk but ive been back and forth for months over whether to actually post one of the ones ive written bc i know a lot of people have mixed feelings about them. however ive decided fuck it, if anyone wants a more of these i’m happy to oblige. this is honestly my shit i love it. [+ if anyone has any requests for other akotsk characters modern au’s pls feel free to submit bc im so into this at the moment!!]

anyway as always: likes, comments, reblogs and any interactions at all are always always appreciated - take care everyone

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.

general akotsk taglist:

@noone1233nobody @antobooh @mikariell95 @kravitzwhore @vanillafan6 @ae-gax @galactict3a @aleemendoza2425-blog @feral-postings @n3rdybirdee @mossthedevouring @loveslide @serduncansdelight @seekingtherapyasap @moonlights-muse @icebearcucumber @poisonedsultana

maekar targaryen taglist:

@mimistimesblog @thorins-queen-of-erebor @erinceles @danaaa21 @nanamin-chan @maximuminfluencerstarlight @pearldaisy @bog-devil @nymphthreshold @luvweezer @icebearcucumber @la2luna-blog @somethingvicked @azuahss @moonlights-muse @birdyman-momon @xglittergoddess