#targcest

( DAERON TARGARYEN X READER )

☆ ──꒰summary꒱ ❞ you are to be wed in a weeks time, but you haven’t the slightest clue as to how to please a man? you’re lucky that your dear brother has offered to show you!

contains! targcest, virgin!reader, oral (m receiving), p in v, reader being kind of a dumbass.

೯⠀⁺ ⠀ 𖥻 𝗢 ⠀ᰋ the scent of sandalwood and alcohol filled Daeron’s bedchambers, but all you could smell was your own panic. you paced the length of the rug, the hem of your gown whispering against the ground. in a mere seven days, the entirety of your body and soul would belong to a too-old Lord that you only knew of through tales passed about by other people’s lips. the thought made your stomach churn.

“you’ll pace a hole in that carpet,” Daeron said, leaning back lazily in his velvet-backed chair. he watched you with a lazy, feline intensity.

you stopped and looked at him, your eyes wide and clouded with confusion, “i don’t know how to… how to be someone’s wife? i do not know what to talk about, i do not know how to act, i do not know anything! Daeron, how will i ever survive there?” the words tumbled out of your lips in a stupid jumble.

Daeron stood slowly, putting a chalice of mead down on a nearby table, his taller frame casting a shadow over you in the flickering candlelight. “men are simple creatures, sweet sister. they want a few specific things: a woman with warmth, beauty, and a nice wet cunt.”

the latter made you blush a deep red, the colour flooding your face hotly. you had never been with a man like that, and Daeron seemed to pick up on that fact.

“have you truly never been to bed yet?” he asked rhetorically, a little laugh falling from his mouth, “you haven’t even been with that…” he searched for the words, “that knight fellow? the one with the black hair?”

you shook your head timidly. Daeron just laughed and stepped towards you, “well you should know. your husband will expect you to know how to please a man of his standing.” he reached out to slide his hand over the thin fabric of your bodice. his palm was hot against your ribs. “you’re trembling. are you afraid of me?”

“no,” you whispered, your chest heaving, “i’m just… i’ve never been touched like this.”

“that’s the problem. you’re a blank canvas, and this husband of yours will expect a finished portrait.” Daeron’s fingers brushed the underside of your breast, circling the nipple through the flimsy linen. “it would be a cruelty to let you enter that marriage ignorant. as your brother, it’s my duty to ensure that you’re… educated well enough.”

you blinked, your lips parting, “you can teach me?”

“i can do far more than teach you. i can show you how a man’s body works.” he gripped your waist, pulling you flush against him. you gasped, feeling something hard and thick pressing against your belly through the both of your clothes. “do you feel that, sister? that is a cock. it is the centre of a man’s world, the dictator of all his decisions and desires. when it is hard like this, it wants only one thing: to be inside something tight and wet.”

“is it always that hard?”

Daeron chuckled, “only when we’re thinking of something we desire. right now, i’m thinking of you.” he guided you towards the bed, pushing you back until you fell against the expensive silks and furs. with a swift motion he stripped away your gown—it made you wonder how many times he had done the same to other women—he followed suit, shedding his clothes until he stood before you, his cock thick and erect.

you stared at it, your eyes tracing the vein that ran along the length of the shaft, the glistening bead of precum at the tip. “it’s so… large. it looks like it would hurt!”

“it might at first,” Daeron said, crawling over you, his weight pinning your thighs open, “but the pain will give way to something much better. now, first lesson. use your mouth. taste me.”

you obeyed tentatively, leaning forward. you licked the head of his cock, the taste salty and masculine.

“more,” he commanded, “wrap your lips around it. suck.”

you opened your mouth wide, sliding your lips over the tip. you gagged slightly as he pushed deeper, his cock hitting the back of your throat. the sound of your wet, sloppy sucking filled the room, your saliva coating the shaft. Daeron groaned, his fingers tangling in your hair, fucking your throat. “yes, just like that, you’re a natural.” he hissed.

he pulled away abruptly, the sound a wet pop echoing in the sudden silence. he shifted, positioning himself between your legs. he reached down and slid two fingers into your pussy. you jumped, a sharp gasp escaping you. “you’re so tight,” Daeron noted, his voice raspy, “and so wet. look at how you leak for your brother.”

“i feel… strange,” you whimpered, your hips instinctively arching into his hand, “it feels like i’m itching on the inside.”

“that’s desire… now, watch.” he guided his cock to your opening, the broad head rubbing against your clit. he pushed slowly, the friction creating a wet sound. you cried out, your hands finding his shoulders and digging into them as he breached your maidenhead.

your body shook at the loss of your virginity, “stop! it hurts!” you cried out, your face flushing.

“stay still, breathe through it,” he instructed, pausing. he waited for you to relax, then gave a sudden, powerful thrust. the sound was visceral: a wet, heavy thud as he buried himself to the hilt. you gasped, a mixture of pain and shock, your body shuddering. he stayed there for a moment, fully sheathed inside you, the scent of sex and blood rising between you. “see?” he said, leaning down to give you a whisper of a kiss on your neck, “the worst is over. now comes the pleasure.”

he began to move, pulling back until only the tip remained before slamming himself back in. the sound of your skin colliding became a steady rhythm. your initial pain began to dissolve into a blurring heat, you felt the friction of his cock sliding against your walls, the way his balls slapped against your ass with every heavy stroke.

“does it feel good, sister?”

“yes! oh, gods… yes,” you cried, voice high and needy.

“that’s it,” he watched your face, your eyebrows knitting together as the pleasure began to build. “now grip me, squeeze your muscles around me,” he instructed, “your husband will expect it of you.”

he shifted his angle, hitting your cervix with a blunt force that made your fingers dig deeper into your brothers shoulders. he was moving frantically now, chasing his own orgasm, the friction creating a mix of slick and precum that frothed around where you met.

you began to shake, your pleasure reaching its height, and Daeron noticed: “cum for me, sister, let it all go, relax.” he groaned.

you shivered violently, your internal muscles clamping down on him in waves. the sensation triggered him, and he let out a deep groan, thrusting one last time with everything he had. he surged deep inside of you, his cock pulsing as he shot thick, hot ropes of cum against your cervix.

you felt the warmth flooding you, a heavy, filling sensation that made you feel as if you had completed something great. Daeron collapsed on top of you, his skin slick with sweat, just the same as yours.

he pulled out slowly, the sound of the exit a wet, sucking pop. a mixture of blood and cum leaked out of your cunt, staining the dark furs beneath you. you looked up at him, tired but blissful, “will my husband be like that?”

Daeron smiled, rubbing his hand over your thigh, “probably not. but you know that your dear brother will bring you the pleasure you need.”

all fun and games but the only reason the targs stopped marrying each other was bc daeron had no daughters and the dinasty had gone almost extinct by that time so they couldn’t keep the blood marriages even if they wanted to.

Not really, I think. And you can hardly say the dynasty was almost extinct if we're talking about Daeron's time. The man had even more siblings than was desirable — his father's bastards, yes, but still — and four sons.

Would he have married his son to his daughter if he had one? I don't think so (realistically), because, again, it all came down to being dragonlords and the related blood purity. There was simply no point in it any longer now that they had no dragons, and there was no valid reason in people's eyes to tolerate the tradition. At the same time, the Targaryens found themselves needing allies really badly now that they couldn't rely on their dragons — hence Daeron marrying Myriah, Baelor marrying Jena, and Maekar marrying Dyanna. All of these women belonged to especially powerful and influential houses.