#ser dunk

when he’s strong and fast and also fresh from the fight 🫦

Includes: Duncan the tall, Daeron Targaryen, Aerion Targaryen, and Valarr Targaryen x f!reader

Summary: How they'd react to being interrupted during the act

Warnings: Freaky nasty smut, I really went the extra mile for my actual real boyfriend Aerion. This is 18+, read at your own discretion.

A/N: Thinking of writing more fics instead of just headcanons and trailer trash Aerion is speaking to me

Dunk had been knuckle deep inside you, stretching and turning his fingers, thumb dragging back and forth against your clit, murmuring softly into your ear. Your skirt was rucked up to your thighs, and there was a noticeable bulge where his own arousal grew. "That's it. Come on, tad bit more for me." He was trying to coax a third orgasm out of you when a knock sounded from the door. Raymun's voice was on the other side, inquiring on whether or not he was going to him for training. "You coming along with the rest of us, mate?" You hadn't touched Dunk yet, but that didn't mean he wasn't trembling from the need crackling through him like lightning. Every part of him froze save for his fingers, still pumping in and out of you, warmth trailing up his neck and ceasing at his ears. He rested his head on your chest for a moment, breathing hard and fast, then turned to the door. "Er...I'll need a few m-minutes! Just wait by the...fuck...far, far, away. Go. Just g-go! I'll be out soon 'nough!" You could hear Raymun falter, leaning against the wall. "Everything...decent in there?" Dunk would stifle a groan, vowing he was just tired, and would come shortly. (Like you were about to.) After Raymun left, Dunk silenced your flustered protests with a soft kiss, hastily pulling down his trousers and replacing his fingers with his cock. "Quickly, I'll do it quickly. 's alright, you're alright with that?" He questioned, soft thrusts punctuating his words. Your fingers interlaced behind his neck, cunt clenching in sync with the plunges of his length within you. He'll ensure you finish but will leave in a hurry, kissing your cheek and promising to make it up to you. "I'll give you my tongue, my fingers, whatever you want, I just—I really have to go. I'll make amends, I swear it. I love you, I do. Bye. Fuck. I love you, goodbye."

Daeron would be entranced by you, as he always is when his head is in between your thighs while you sat on his desk. He’d notice that you’d been interrupted when your moans abruptly ended, and your hands stopped grabbing at his hair. His hooded eyes gazed up at you, and your focus was on the door behind him, motionless. He sighed, not bothering to turn around, rather irked by the disturbance if anything. "Leave us." The servant, holding a basket of sheets, mouth agape, quickly nodded their head in a reluctant bow and closed the door behind them. Daeron went right back to his task until you ungracefully pushed his head back. "My love?" He wouldn't let you leave him, hands bracketing your hips, his lips in a tiny pout to convince you to stay. "Daeron, that unfortunately-timed intrusion was mortifying! That poor maid could have seen my...or, or your...they could've seen certain...things, you understand!" He was thoroughly unimpressed with your outburst, resting his cheek against your thigh and toying with a stray thread on your dress. "Yes, I realize. May I continue? I fear you haven't been satisfied." He'd attempt to lift your skirts for him but you would scoff at his apparent indifference, stalking off into the other room. Daeron would groan, doing his best to coax you back to his bed with soft words and gentle pleas. "I'll remember to lock the doors next time, just let me fucking finish, please. I need this."

Aerion has you under his desk, fingers threaded loosely in your hair, manspreading as you sucked him off. He was in the middle of writing back to a few of his comrades, if you could call them that, from nearby kingdoms when his father walked in, no knock, no warning, no announcement. The Anvil himself intruding on you performing oral sex on your husband. Your first instinct is to move off of his cock, terrified, but Aerion holds you there, the once gentle grip now achingly stern. You would've protested had you not seen what he was doing. Maeker couldn't see you just yet from where he stood by the door, so as long as you remained where you were, your mouth on Aerion, Maekar needn't know of the very explicit deed unfolding only a few yards away. "Aerion. You neglect your courtly duties. I am not one to frown upon the happiness of newlyweds, but you have missed several gatherings, including a banquet. This behavior cannot persist." Aerion could only nod. He could not trust his voice to stay calm, nor his words to stay even. "You will answer me when I speak to you, boy!" You didn't mean to swirl your tongue around his slit, you were simply uncomfortable with the position, still, Aerion looked down at you with a gaze that could melt a glacier. "I-I'll be at the next one, father." He grit out. You had a beautiful epiphany in that moment. You liked seeing him like this. And you liked the risk even more. You bobbed your head, taking him deeper, an experimental gulp, and his eyes squeezed shut, jaw clenching. "Are you well?" Maekar inquired, lips pulled into a scowl. You traced a vein on the underside of Aerion's shaft with your tongue. "Get out." He grunted, eyes narrowed in a glare at his father. "I beg your pardon?" Maekar questioned softly, bewildered. "Get. Out." Aerion repeated, venom coating every syllable. "We will have words about this, son. Remember this." Right as the door slammed and Maekar departed, Aerion turned his steely gaze to you, and your epiphany morphed into regret. He hauled you up into his lap, your lips red and slick with spit, grabbing your chin. "You are going to suffer for this, wife."

Valarr never does sex halfway. There will be no quickies, no head, no handjobs. He'd do it for you if you asked, but it would be wrong of him to ever let you get him off without doing the same for you. The majority of the time, your sexcapades end with him finishing inside you. Therefore, you were in one of the secluded stairways of the Red Keep, hardly ever used this time of night, breaths mingling in the winter air. You sat in his lap, slowly grinding up and down on his cock where it was sheathed inside of you, muffling your noises as best you could. "Gods. Keep going, please, just like that." He whined, pulling your hips down harder to meet his tender thrusts. You'd nearly reached your second peak, eyes shut and head hiding in the junction of his neck when the sound of Valarr's strangled gasp had you cease. "Seven hells...I'll be on my way." A voice that was most definitely not Valarr's said. You couldn't force yourself to look, feeling the heat of shyness rise in you, but you knew that voice. Baelor Breakspear, the Hand of the King, the fucking crown prince. "Father, I can explain—" Valarr began, but Baelor must have held up a hand because he spoke no excuse. "I wish not to see this again, in my lifetime, if that's quite alright with the two of you. Son. My lady...er...enjoy yourself. Goodnight." You raised your head once you no longer heard the retreating footsteps. The skin of his high cheekbones were a faint shade of pink, growing deeper with your eyes on him. "He is going to annihilate me tomorrow. I hope this was worth it. We will never do this outside of our chambers without the doors securely latched ever again."