━━⠀⠀request rules.

i only write for "x reader" and not "character x character", i just don't think i'm a good enough writer for that yet. i only write for fem!reader or gn!reader. only request for characters listed below. i am open to violence, gore, smut, angst, dead dove, and pretty much any genre of writing, including darker themes and targcest. i won't, however, write for dark versions of characters (ex: dunk where is he mean/cruel to the reader) as i want to capture the character's real personalities (similarly, i wouldn't write a "nice" version of a cruel character). i am willing to write for multiple characters x reader, though (ex: daeron x aerion x reader). i will write for wlw or straight pairings. platonic pairings are open for every character that i write for.

━━⠀⠀rules for smut requests.

as i said, i am willing to write targcest. dubcon is welcomed but noncon will not be written in great detail (if you wish for assault to have some part in the plot, that's fine but i personally will not write for smut that is non consensual for either party). i do not write for any watersports or scat play. any requests including a minor x adult is an absolute no and you will be blocked. if there's anything i missed or if you're curious about what i may or may not be okay with writing, just send an ask!

━━⠀⠀characters that my requests are open for.

aegon "egg" targaryen (platonic pairings only). aerion "brightflame" targaryen. baelor targaryen. brynden rivers. cregan stark. daeron the drunken. duncan the tall. jon snow. lyonel baratheon. maekar targaryen. raymun fossoway. robb stark. sandor clegane. tanselle too-tall. valarr targaryen.

He rarely got time alone with his own wife. He would, begrudgingly, have to settle for brief moments. He would cradle your cheek and steal a kiss, or you would pass him and give him a quick peck to the jaw or his temple, leaving his skin alight and warm. He would bring you your favorite tea in the evenings, or hover like a dragon watching his treasure as you tended to his son's needs. All the while, little Maegor would watch his parents, wide-eyed and curious.

Aerion had faith that it would change with time. Maegor would grow and become more independent, and soon he would have you to himself again.

At least, that's what he had tried to convince himself, but the gods had odd humor. His boy was the spitting image of him, appearance-wise… and in other ways. The child grew, learned to walk and how to speak in mumbled sentences, but he still clung to his mother like his little life depended on it. His chubby hands would curl around your skirts, his shorter legs hurrying to keep up with you as you made your way through the winding layout of Summerhall. He'd huff and stomp his little feet until you would inevitably relent and pick him up, and then he would curl his fingers around the neckline of your dress, holding tight as though his strength alone could keep him in your arms forever.

“You spoil him,” Aerion said once, when you entered your marital chambers with Maegor on your hip. You sighed, meeting his gaze as he sat lounged on the velvet-lined settee by the hearth.

“Children are meant to be spoiled, husband.”

“Hm,” Aerion hummed, a faint smile wanting to tug at his lips had he not forced it away. He watched you move about the bedchamber, your skirts whispering across bare stone and the rug by the bed. In the warm light that the hearth offered, you looked so… ethereal. The flames flickered across your features, and he found a quiet peace there. Motherhood had suited you well, and you fit into that role as if it were always meant to be. He quite liked that look on you: you, softened from carrying his seed, holding his heir upon your hip.

A bit of heat stirred in his gut. He forced it away.

Aerion rose with the grace of a prince, his footsteps measured across the floor as he approached his wife and child. He reached for your waist, but found his hands stalling as Maegor reached up to touch your face. Fat fingers probed at your cheek, imitating the way he so often saw his father cradle your face. His chubby hand was more clumsy, and sticky with sweet nectar from an orange he ate earlier, but the look in his big lilac eyes was intense as he stared at you.

“Mama, so beautiful.”

Aerion's brow furrowed as he watched you grin at that. “Thank you, sweet boy,” you hummed your thanks, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead, just as you would do for your husband when he doted on you. “I love you.”

“Love you too, mama!”

Aerion watched the pair before him, his lips tugging into what could almost be described as a pout. His son loved you, just as he did. He learned the quiet ways of affection, and knew how to steal your heart. When you met your husband's gaze, he forced his expression to harden, though his heart swelled with something he had never felt. Deep, deep affection. The sight of his small family, of his sweet wife and their little boy, warmed a part of him that felt… new. He would not admit it, though. Dragons were made of thicker hides.

“Spoiled little brat.”

“He learned from you.”

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