sigilsins

[sigilsins]

trying  to  focus  so  i  can  write,  but  my  brain  is  just  this  gif  on  repeat

[sigilsins]

𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐞; 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒚𝒆𝒔, 𝒏𝒐, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒎𝒂𝒚𝒃𝒆'𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒌𝒔.

DAEMON TARGARYEN is a — dominant switch / dominant / submissive

bold  is  highly favoured,  italicised  is  partner  (or  context)-dependent plain  is  neutral or unexplored,  and  strike  indicates  a  non-interest.

age  gap  /  begging  /  breath  play  /  breeding  /  BSDM  /  bondage  /  daddy  kink (more the dynamic than specifica)  /  dirty  talk  /  D/s  dynamic  /  erotic  humiliation  /  edging  (orgasm  control)  /  exhibitionism  /  face  slapping  /  foot  fetish  /  gagging  /  group  sex  /  impact  play  /  masochism  (receiving  pain)  /  mommy  kink  /  pegging  (watching) /  public  sex  /  praise  kink  /  restraints  /  rope  play  /  role  playing  /  risk  play  /  sadism  (inflicting  pain)  /  spanking  /  swinging  /  teasing  /  threesomes  /  temperature  play  /  voyeurism  /  worship

[sigilsins]

MILLY ALCOCK & FABIEN FRANKEL as RHAENYRA TARGARYEN & CRISTON COLE in HOUSE OF THE DRAGON (2022—) Episode 4, "King of The Narrow Sea"

[sigilsins]

His words set her mind almost spinning, even  though  she  offers  herself  to  him  it  still  somehow  feels  as  though  he  is  taking  what  is  rightfully  his.  It’s  thrilling  in  the  way  she  hoped  it  would  be,  hands  clutching  fiercely  at  the  skin  under  his  shirt  and  wishing  desperately  they  were  pressed  skin  to  skin.  Rhaenyra  is  burning  for  him,  she  has  been  since  he  grasped  her  hand  and  lead  her,  literally,  into  this  sinful  place.  It  only  seems  fitting  that  he  take  her  fully  into  the  realm  she’s  been  desperately  excluded  from.  Ah  soft  “ah!”  leaves  her  lips  when  Daemon  curls  his  fingers  in  her  silver  locks  and  inhales  the  scent  of  his  sweat.  He  proclaims  his  intentions,  searing  her  lips  in  a  kiss  that  makes  her  back  arch  from  the  wall  to  shape  herself  firmer  against  him.  Rhaenyra  is  aching  for  him,  in  ways  she  doesn't  fully  understand.  She  needs  to  be  whole,  and  only  Daemon  can  give  her  that.

Rhaenyra gaps against her uncles lips when his fingers reach cleverly between her thighs,  feeling  an  unexpected  sensation  of  being  incredibly  vulnerable  —  her  legs  wrapped  around  his  waist  leaving  her  open  to  the  unfamiliar  touch,  digits  sliding  into  her  virgin  cunt  as  she  still  simultaneously  yearns  fo  more  —  for  a  sensation  she  truly  doesn't  know.  Yet..  Her  partially  exposed  chest  fleshes  pink  at  his  words,  she  knows  this  smooth  and  goading  tone;  she  knows  Daemon  wants  to  hear  the  words,  the  sounds,  everything  she  has  to  offer  him.  “Ohh-,”  is  what  leaves  her  lips,  the  sensation  of  he  larger,  thicker  fingers  gliding  tightly  into  her  cunt  utterly  dwarfing  the  way  her  own  have  felt  in  the  past;  it  doesn’t  hurt…  it  feels  indescribably  good.  Rhaenyra’s  head  rests  back  against  the  wall,  tilting  so  Daemon’s  mouth  remains  on  her,  “the  first  and  —  and  the  only.  Please...  —”  she  repeats  a  touch  breathlessly.  It’s  hard  to  concentrate  when  his  fingers  are  shifting  inside  her,  when  she  feels  the  way  her  wetness  helps  the  slick  friction  and  the  way  her  cunt  both  clenches  around  him  to  demand  more,  "I  waited  for  you.  I  —  only  craved  the  feeling  of  you,  uncle.  I  know.  I  know  we  were  made  for  each  other.     Aren't  we?"

Rhaenyra, controlled by a mix of an inexperienced maidenhood's reckless desires and illicit cravings —  pulls  at  his  hair,  arches  at  his  touch,  cunt  clenching  bearing  down  on  his  fingers.  She  doesn't  know  exactly  what  she  wants,  but  whatever  it  is  that  she  desires...  only  Daemon  can  give  it  too  her.  "Only  you,  I  don't  know  —  I  just  need  you.  I  feel  so  empty,"  her  lithe  body  bares  down  against  his  fingers,  grinding  and  rolling  her  hips  as  she  wantonly  obeys  —  unashemed  of  any  sound  of  desire  that  leaves  her  lips.  "Don't  leave  me.  I  can't  take  it  anymore  —  I  am  a  woman  now,  Daemon.  Fingers  no  longer  satisfy  me,"  her  head  knocks  against  the  wall  behind  her  has  she  tosses  it  back,  eyes  closed  as  she  chases  the,  so  far,  unknown  feeling  of  being  complete.  "I  need  your  cock.  Make  me  whole,  it  could  only  be  you  —  stop  making  me  wait,"  Rhaenyra  rolls  her  hips  against  his  fingers,  her  whole  body  shuddering,  she  no  longer  cares  what  kind  of  sinful  words  leave  her  lips, gyrating down needily against his fingers (it's not enough).   "Fuck  me,  uncle.  ITake  me,  I  am  yours.  Don't  make  me  seek  another,  I-  I  need  it  —  I  need  to  be  filled.  Make me  whole."

Daemon’s   gaze   burned   into   Rhaenyra's,   the   corners   of   his   mouth   lifting   in   a   slow,   wicked   smile.   Her   words   echoed   in   his   mind,   stoking   the   flames   already   searing   through   him,   igniting   a   pride   he   could   barely   contain.   "Tired   of   waiting?"   he   echoed   in   a   low,   mocking   drawl,   his   voice   thick   with   the   satisfaction   of   watching   her   unravel   against   him.   "You   should   know,   my   fierce   little   dragon,   that   patience   has   never   been   my   virtue."

His   hands   roamed   possessively   over   her   skin,   every   trace   of   her   flesh   under   his   grip   a   claiming,   a   statement—she   was   his,   as   she   had   always   been,   whether   her   father   saw   it   or   not.   Feeling   her   nails   against   his   abdomen,   the   urgency   in   her   touch,   a   surge   of   satisfaction   coursed   through   him.   It   was   intoxicating,   watching   her   give   in   so   completely,   and   he   leaned   in,   his   lips   ghosting   over   the   sensitive   curve   of   her   throat,   relishing   in   the   way   she   shivered   under   him.

“There’s   no   one   else   in   the   realm   I’d   rather   watch   burn   for   me,”   he   murmured   against   her   skin,   teeth   grazing   her   throat   in   a   possessive   bite.   His   own   restraint   frayed   with   each   second,   fueled   by   the   relentless   press   of   her   body   against   his.   She   moved   with   haste   and   desire   and   in   turn,   his   cock   pressed   against   her   in   return   for   such   attention.

There,   in   the   shadows   of   the   whorehouse,   he   gave   her   a   gaze   that   was   daring,   dangerous,   as   though   he   were   as   willing   to   be   seen   as   she   was—his   way   of   letting   the   world   know   she   was   his.   He   met   her   gaze,   eyes   ablaze.   “But   you’re   right,”   he   whispered,   lips   almost   brushing   hers,   his   fingers   tangling   in   her   hair.   “I   am   done   with   waiting.”   With   that,   he   pulled   her   closer,   sealing   her   words,   her   wants,   beneath   a   kiss   filled   with   every   unspoken   promise   he’d   ever   made.   A   hand   sneaking   between   the   two   bodies   to   press   against   the   wetness   he   finds   there,   her   name   whispered   almost   like   a   prayer.

"You   want   me   inside   you,   sweetheart?   Don't   be   ashamed   of   anything   you   say   or   any   noise   you   make.   Not   here."   Not   with   me,   not   when   his   fingers   slip   inside   her   and   find   her   warm   and   wet   and   they   move   to   stretch   her   over   and   watch   with   delight   the   way   her   features   contourn   with   need.   "I'm   going   to   be   the   first   and   only.   Only   I   get   to   have   you   like   this,   don't   I?"   and   he   presses   further,   nibbling   on   her   earlobe,   mouth   moving   south   to   her   breast   and   mouth   at   one   through   the   loose   fabric   of   the   shirt.   

[sigilsins]

send memes.

[sigilsins]

“Rhaenyra," he breathed in return, like a prayer, like a man worshipping at the altar of his gods. "You  were  created  for  me,"  Daerax  breathes,  though  lowly  as  his  hands  explore  her  body,  "and  I  was  created  to  serve  you,"  he  rough  kiss,  a  nip  of  teeth  at  the  underside  of  her  jawline,  and  he  fights  the  urge  to  mark  her  fair  skin  with  his  own  possessiveness.  His  tattooed  hands  shift  to  pull  away  her  riding  outfit  —  he'd  done  it  many  times  before,  and  as  so  does  not  pose  a  challenge  even  as  he  pours  his  attention  into  the  deep,  heat-eliciting  kisses  he  lavishes  upon  the  princess's  lips.

He had no idea how much time they had to spend together, though Rhaenyra had claimed she wished 'to be quick' — so  his  hands  moved,  with  practised  ease  and  precision,  to  the  lacings  of  her  riding  leathers,  the  outer  layer  and  the  leathered  skirt  that  covered  her  lower  form.  The  leggings  easily  slipped  away  under  his  determined  hands...  lifting  Rhaenyra  was  an  easy  task  for  Daerax,  and  he  suspected  a  part  of  the  princess  enjoyed  the  ease  at  which  he  manhandled,  lifted  and  manipulated  her  slighter  form.  He  shuddered  in  heated  anticipation  as  she  pleaded  with  him  for  what  she  wanted,  as  if  he  could  ever  —  nor  would  ever  consider  —  denying  her.  Any  man  (who  enjoyed  the  company  of  women)  would  be  mad  to  deny  Rhaenyra,  she  was  perfect.  A  lusty,  inappropriate,  expected  wave  of  searing  heat  took  over  his  body,  hands  sliding  up  her  back  and  he  pulled  away  the  layers  that  were  somewhat  easy  to  remove.  "Whatever  my  princess  desires,"  Daerax  cooed  against  her  lips,  a  clumsy  desperate  motion  between  them  as  he  pulled  away  her  riding  skirts  and  leather  outer  pants,  "lay  back,"  he  ordered,  softly,  tongue  tangling  with  the  princess's  as  he  rotated  them  to  rest  Rhaenyra  on  her  back  on  the  cot,  "let  me  show  you  how  much  I  adore  you,"  a  cheeky  smirk  came  from  Daerax  —  his  hand  pushing  her  thighs  to  part  and  overtly  pushing  away  the  smallclothes.  Maybe  it  was  only  a  brief  time  they  had  together,  or  perhaps  how  the  princess  promised  she  would  not  take  up  too  much  of  his  time...  regardless,  Daerax  chose  not  to  play  the  slow  game.

"I've missed the way you taste," Daerax  breathed  lustily  against  the  soft  flesh  of  her  thigh,  "it's  been  less  than  two  days  but  I  feel  as  though  it  is  too  long,"  his  lips  now  pressed  against  the  soft  mount  of  curls  above  her  cunt;  pale  and  soft  as  he  advanced  lower.  Apparently,  the  princess  would  be  wed  soon  to  Laenor  Velaryon.  Daerax  knew  he  was  a  good  man,  but  not  the  type  who  craved  the  intimacy  of  being  with  a  woman.  Daerax  selfishly  wished  he  could  take  on  the  husbandly  duties  expected  from  Laenor  —  but  to  sire  a  potential  dragonseed  with  a  royal  was  something  utterly  forbidden.  That  did  not  make  it  less  tempting;  it  perhaps  made  it  more  illicit.  Daerax  glided  his  tongue  between  her  thighs,  parting  the  soft  petals  of  her  cunt  as  his  lips  sought  Rhaenyra's  clit;  there  were  no  words  left  for  him  to  say.  Nothing  that  he,  as  someone  not  particularly  eloquent,  could  not  convey  with  his  mouth  between  her  thighs.  He  lifted  her  legs  so  they  rested  over  his  shoulders,  lips  wrapping  around  and  sucking  on  Rhaenyra's  clit  as  he  buried  his  face  between  her  fair  thighs.

THE STARVING NEED WITHIN HER HAD BECOME unbearable, to the point of the Princess risking it all for just a few moments spent within the man's arms. within his warm, strong hold that allowed her the peace of mind. the woman had made sure she would not be followed, made sure that everyone knew she would be in the pit with Syrax - a story not at all different from how the young woman used to spend most of her days either way. only now her trusted mount received barely half of the time she usually had to spare in favor for the new, far more pleasant, activity.

"Daerax." Rhaenyra allowed her lips to form the word, his name soft and tender on her tongue, followed by a sound desperately close to a moan. the Princess ran her fingers through his hair when the man closed any and ALL distance between them. her knees now on either side of his hips, straddling the large man's thighs with her soft and ample upper frame pressed closely to his chest. the touch of the man's rough hands on her delicate flesh brought shivers down her spine, the sensation always awakening something primal deep in her loins that stirred awake and became hungry for more. "please." her soft whimper rang through the silence of the air, thankfully it'd get swallowed up by purrs and growls of the beasts just outside these walls. but she could not be stopped, could not be controlled, not now when finally her starved LUST was being sated.

"all of it - all of you." Rhaenyra replied without hesitation. she spoke nothing but the truth, refusing to make the situation any more twisted or secretive than it had to be. the man deserved to know how badly she needed him, how throughoutly her body and her heart ached for him whenever their ways parted. her hands - far more delicate than Daerax's - began to travel across the man's bare frame, over muscles and scars, desperately aching to trace every spot with her mouth, to mark it with her teeth, to claim the man in any and all ways that she could. "your mouth, your tongue." whispered sweet demands between kisses pressed to the line of his jaw, small bites of sharp teeth following "---between my thighs, that first."

[sigilsins]

dom / domme … sentence starters

“no, take it slow.”

“I just want to feel you.”

“open your mouth for me.”

“no, you’re not allowed to touch me.”

“lie back, darling, let me take care of you.”

“give me the rope and hold out your wrists.”

“open your legs, I want to make you squirm.”

“you look so lovely like this, all blushy and breathless.”

“do you remember your safeword? repeat it back to me.”

“don’t worry, i’ll let you cum. i just want to make you wait for it.”

“shut up. cover your mouth. you don’t want to get caught, do you?”

“you want to use that toy tonight? aren’t you feeling adventurous…” 

“you want to be a brat, do you? well, you know what happens next…”

“oh, you can be louder than that, come on. let them hear how good i make you feel.”

action prompts.  add “reverse” to the prompt for receiver to perform the action on sender, instead. 

send  ( kiss ) : sender grabs receiver by the chin to kiss them

send  ( hot ) : sender drips melting wax across receiver’s body

send  ( choke ) : sender slides a hand around receiver’s throat 

send  ( pull ) : sender pulls receiver into their lap to finger them

send  ( worship ) : sender kisses their way down receiver’s body

send  ( spank ) : sender pulls receiver over their lap to spank them

send  ( kneel ) : sender commands receiver to kneel in front of them

send  ( pin ) : sender grabs receiver by the wrists and pins them to them wall 

send  ( bind ) : sender ties receiver’s hands together and pins them about receiver’s head

send  ( meal ) : sender is eating out receiver, and grabs their hips to keep them in place when they try to squirm away

[sigilsins]

Daerax  was  indeed  in  the  room  that  had  become  theirs,  when  asked  (once)  about  why  he  had  ventured  back  there  he  had  answered  that  it  gave  him  a  place  to  pray  and  meditate  alone.  But  he  wasn't  even  alone  now,  he  turned  his  body  towards  the  princess  as  she  approached  and  his  grasp  settled  on  her  waist  by  instinct.  And  he,  nor  Rhaenyra,  came  here  to  do  anything  holy.  Her  hands  roamed  and  Daerax  felt  that  flame  inside  him  burning  brighter  as  she  peered  up  at  him  with  hungry,  needy,  Valyrian  eyes.  “What  are  you  doing  here,  Princess?”  he  asked  softly,  and  her  response  came  in  both  words  and  action  as  Rhaenyra  drew  closer  and  against  him;  I  need  you.    “You  risk  discovery,”  Daerax  breathes  softly,  rough  hands  moulding  the  shape  of  her  hips  and  waist,  drawing  the  princess  against  him,  “we  need  to  be  careful,”  sound  advice,  and  genuine  advice,  but  in  complete  defiance  to  the  way  he  slid  his  hands  over  her  supple,  soft  curves.  He  was  powerless  against  the  desire  he  felt  for  her,  no  matter  how  dangerous  it  was  for  either  of  them  —  and  it  was  dangerous.  Daerax  never  thought  about  the  danger  when  they  were  together  like  this,  hidden  by  dragons  and  concealing  shadows.  Arms  wrapped  around  her,  he  pulled  her  up  from  the  floor  and  into  his  arms,  and  felt  himself  grow  both  calmer  and  more  heightened  at  the  meeting  of  their  lips.  A  groan  escaped  as  her  mouth  opened  for  him,  tongue  flicking  against  his  as  he  began  to  pull  the  fabric  of  her  dress  upwards,  roughened  hands  palming  over  her  thighs  as  he  guided  her  legs  around  him.

“Let  us  be  quick  then,”  he  breathed  against  her  lips,  a  tattooed  hand  cupping  her  face  as  he  stepped  a  half  pace  backwards,  Rhaenyra  in  his  arms.  Daerax's  calves  hit  the  low  cot-like  bed  that  was  tucked  into  the  corner  and  sat  down  with  the  princess  astride  him,  her  weight  a  perfect  sensation  against  him.  Tattooed  and  scarred  hands  hasten  up  bare  thighs,  teeth  snagging  the  princess's  bottom  lip  and  grinding  their  bodies  salaciously  together,  a  roll  of  heat  searing  across  his  skin  at  the  pressure  and  friction  against  his  growing  hardness;  “whatever  you  need,  I  am  here.  Always  for  you  —”  there  was  enough  space  between  them  to  grasp  the  hem  of  his  own  shirt  and  pull  it  up  and  over  his  head.  Then  Daerax  continued  hungrily  roaming  his  touch  over  her  body,  wishing  he  could  will  away  the  fabric  that  kept  him  from  feeling  her  skin  beneath  his  hands,  he  didn't  know  if  there  was  even  time  to  indulge  in  his  selfish  desire  to  divest  her  of  every  stitch  of  clothing  upon  her.  Daerax's  fingers  move  to  shift  silvery  hair  so  he  can  wander  his  lips  against  her  jaw,  cheek,  ending  near  her  ear.  His  splayed  hands  cover  the  entirety  of  the  roundness  of  her  ass,  simultaneously  bunching  the  skirts  fabric  higher  in  anticipation;  “—  do  you  want  my  tongue  between  your  thighs?  Do  you  need  me  inside  you?  Tell  me  what  you  need.” 

& @sigilsins said: " i need you. please. i'll be quick. " + reverse // MEME // ACCEPTING

WHATEVER NEED IT WAS THAT GUIDED the woman's footsteps towards the dragonpit had very little to do with dragons and everything to do with the image of a particular man that she could not get out of her head. the Princess nodded her head politely to the people she passed on her way, her direction changing at the VERY LAST MOMENT when she was hidden by darkened alcoves. instead of making her way towards Syrax' favorite spot Rhaenyra found herself sneaking closer to the place she knew she would find Daerax.

Rhaenyra was careful, cautious, knowing there was no valid reason as to why she should be in these parts of the dragonpit and yet - it was as if her body knew the way without her even guiding it. within moments the Princess snuck into the room, knowing without a shadow of a doubt that this was where she would find him. that the room had become theirs somehow.

"please." the young woman whispered, voice soft and sweet as she stepped closer to the tall man. without hesitation, without SHAME of her own needs, the Princess reached her hands out and allowed her slender palms to trace the broad shoulders, the toned chest and strong stomach --- within another second Rhaenyra closed the distance between them, not minding the risk of getting caught, not caring for the dangers she was putting them both in. not when her body demanded something that only HE was able to give her. "i need you, please, i will be quick."

[sigilsins]

She presses herself closer, head tiling up to enjoy the feel of his lips against her forehead. Rhaenyra coos happily as harsh, loving  fingers  tug  at  her  hair,  her  smile  is  wicked  and  she  nods  as  Daemon  steers  her  backwards.  All  the  adoration  and  want  in  the  world  is  found  in  her  gaze  upon  him  —  a  needy  giggle  leaves  her  mouth  and  she  runs  her  tongue  over  her  bottom  lip,  eyes  flicking  to  the  outline  of  Daemon's  cock  and  then  back  up  to  his  face  as  she  settles  back  on  the  edge  of  the  bed.  A  sharp  gasp  escapes  her  as  the  cool  air  rushes  around  her  thighs,  the  searing  heat  of  her  desire  an  ache  now  (as  if  it  wasn't  before  this.)

"Yes,  I  adore  it.  Knowing  how  much  you  want  me,  how  much  you  want  to  be  inside  me..."  she  leans  back  a  little,  hips  rolling  against  the  barest  touch  he  gives  her.  She  parts  her  thighs  for  him,  eagerly,  more  than  willingly, wanting him to see the way the fabric is darkened with her wet arousal; her need for him. Violet eyes  flick  towards  the  doorway  and  the  dull  sound  of  people  beyond,  she doesn't care, she should, but she doesn't. "I  bet  you  think  about  me,  too.  Don't  you,  uncle?  About  how  my  body  feels  under  yours..."  Rhaenyra  continues,  a  little  breathless  as  she  drags  a  hand  lazily  over  her  covered  breast,  fingers  tracing  the  peaked  hardness  of  her  nipple with a small shudder,  "about  how  it  feels  to  be  inside  me.  Do  you  think  about  how  I  taste?  Are  you  going  to  taste  me  now?"

Such   a   sweet   sight   she   makes   at   that   very   moment,   does   she   not?   Like   any   young   woman,   she   wants   what   she   wants   and   that   dragon   blood   she   has   inside   makes   it   hard   to   resist   her   when   her   hand   takes   his   cock   in   hand   and   begins   to   work   him   and   he   watches   in   admiration   and   amusement   how   she   becomes   turned   on   at   pleading   himself.   And   of   course   she   has   to   taunt   him   too,   does   she   not?   With   her   thoughts   in   his   mind,   the   way   he   can   imagine   her,   legs   spread   and   wrapped   around   him   as   he   sinks   deep   and   up   to   the   hilt   inside   of   her,   two   halves   made   whole.  

Daemon   kisses   her   forehead   and   hand   comes   to   the   back   of   her   hair,   twisting   hair   into   his   fingers   before   pulling,   if   only   gently.   "If   me   inside   you   is   what   you   want,   then   I   should   prepare   you,   don't   I?"   He   whispers   in   turn,   a   groan   escaping   his   own   lips   as   guides   her   body   toward   the   bed   and   make   her   sit   on   the   edge   of   it.   "You   can   put   those   lips   of   yours   to   use   later,   sweetling   and   wrap   them   around   me   if   you   wish."   And   to   confirm   how   needy   she   is,   Daemon,   leans   over,   as   he   skitters   her   dress   up   and   out   of   the   way   to   let   a   hand   inside   to   see   wetness   around   her   small   clothes.  

"That   made   you   wet,   did   it,   Rhaenyra?   See   how   hard   I   am   for   you?"   Her   body   does   not   lie   and   damn,   if   someone   walks   in   he   would   not   have   the   decency   to   stop   and   Viserys   would   be   furious   but   perhaps   this   way   her   brother   would   marry   them   if   gossip   spreads.   "Spread   your   legs   for   me."

[sigilsins]

THE INTIMACY OF THE SLOW BURN

Matt Smith as Prince Daemon Targaryen and Milly Alcock as Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen in HOUSE OF THE DRAGON (2022—) Season 1, Episode 4: "King of The Narrow Sea"

[sigilsins]

As  he  waited,  he  paced.  Aegon's  face,  though  often  stern,  was  serious  with  the  weight  of  the  circumstances  he'd  put  himself  in.  It  was  he  who  had  done  this,  or  at  least  put  it  in  motion  by  summoning  Argella  to  speak.  Speak,  he  told  himself,  only  to  speak.  To  put  to  bed  what  had  happened  between  them.  Orys  and  he  had  shared  many  things  (including  women,  in  the  past),  he  believed  in  his  heart  that  the  Baratheon  was  his  half-brother,  and  they  had  grown  together.  Aegon  was  the  one  who  refused  Argilac's  daughter's  hand,  his  historians  now  said  that  was  the  moment  when  his  true  Wars  of  Conquest  began,  and  he  had  gladly  granted  Orys  the  hand  of  Argella  after  the  battle  at  Storms  End.

And  months  later,  Argella  and  he  had  shared  a  dance  and  some  wine.  Fiesty  and  tense  words  had  been  exchanged,  Aegon  enjoyed  the  fire  in  her  eyes;  the  last  Storm�� Queen  had  no  trouble  matching  his  energy  in  the  debate  that  brewed  between  them.  When  Argella  excused  herself,  he'd  followed  intending  to  lay  to  rest  the  tensions  between  himself  and  his  half-brother's  wife.  In  the  darkness  of  the  royal  garden  of  the  Aegonfort,  he  found  her.  Aegon  closed  his  eyes  against  the  way  she  defiantly  straddled  him  after  pushing  him  to  sit  on  one  of  the  benches,  a  hand  angling  his  cock  inside  her.  Try  as  he  might,  his  mind  echoed  with  the  muffled  sounds  of  pleasure  that  they  had  smothered  with  kisses,  and  wonders  on  the  bruises  he  may  have  left  on  her  thighs  in  his  wake.  The  door  creaked  open  and  then  shut  behind  Argella  as  she  arrived.  Aegon  strove to pull  himself  from  the  memories  he  was  trying  to  rid  himself  of. They danced in his dreams and unbidden in moments during the day  —

“You  wanted  me  —  here  I  am." —  said  argella  durrandon  (  @harezaldrizi  )  to  aegon  i  targaryen

He  swallowed  against  the  way  his  brain  wanted  to  interpret  those  words.  Aegon  had  been  telling  himself  the  exact  opposite,  a  lie;  that  he  did  not  want  her,  did  not  desire  her.  He  did,  he  does.  The  room  around  them  seemed  to  grow  more  stifled,  Argella's  statement  thrummed  in  the  air.  And  he  really  did  fight  against  the  impulse  that  rose  in  him,  for  all  his  good  intentions  in  asking  to  speak  with  her  to  rectify  the  'wrong'  —  those  words  kept  dying  in  his  throat.  The  kings  feet  carried  him  closer  to  Argella,  and  he  stared  down  at  her  with  quiet,  roiling  intensity,  "This  is  when  I  planned  to  ask  your  forgiveness  for  my  behaviour,        and  when  I  intended  to  tell  you  it  will  never  happen  again. I find myself unable to say those words with sincerity" Aegon admitted, closing the distance further. With his hand cupping the side of her throat, his thumb ran against the soft line of her jaw, skirting barely the edge of her lips and remembered the taste, he finally added; "I should not have asked you here."

[sigilsins]

❛   surprise.   perichá sends  an  unexpected  nsfw  message  to  @khalesci.

Though  the  feast  and  celebrations  around  her  are  lavish,  filled  with  mirth  and  song  and  still  somewhat  foreign  delights...  the  Pearl  Child  finds  her  pitch-dark  eyes  consistently  returning  to  Daenerys.  She  has  so  many  names  and  titles,  and  none  of  them  include  a  reference  to  her  beauty.  Perichá,  or  Pretty  Peri  as  she  has  come  to  be  called  by  those  who  struggle  with  the  pronunciation  of  her  name,  has  always  adored  anything  and  everything  considered  beautiful...  and  that  is  no  exception  when  it  comes  to  the  Dragon  Queen.  With  graceful,  long  fingers jangling softly with delicate jewelery  Peri  gestures  to  one  of  her  attendants,  requests  a  section  of  parchment  and  a  bamboo  reed  pen,  scrawling  a  message  in  High  Valyrian;  musing  over  how  to  correctly  word  her  thoughts  before  signing  off  with  her  personal  insignia.

Peri  smiles  sweetly  as  the  wonderous  lavender  eyes  meet  hers,  blowing  gently  on  the  ink  to  dry  it  before  folding  it  in  half  twice.  With  the  Dragon  Queen  watching,  Peri  gestures  to  her  and  then  hands  the  message  to  her  attendant  to  deliver.  Sipping  at  a  sweet,  clear  liquor  that  she  has  brought  from  Leng,  Peri  sits  at  the  head  of  her  table  with  a  select  few  of  her  party  in  attendance  and  watches  across  the  thirty-odd  feet  that  separates  herself  from  the  Queen's  table.  When  Daenerys  takes  the  paper  and  looks  to  her  for  confirmation,  Peri  nods  with  a  mischievous  yet  darling,  daring  smile  and  raises  her  glass  in  a  nonverbal  toast  to  the  queen,  encouraging  her  to  read  the  words.  In  the  brilliant  emerald  green  ink  of  Leng,  Peri has  scrawled  in  fluid  calligraphy, almost prosy, the following:

You  are  the  most  beautiful  creature  in  this  room, I  imagine  the  only  way  you  could  appear  moreso is with  my  lips  whispering  sinful praise into  the  sweetness  between  your  thighs.

[sigilsins]

“I’ve been waiting a lifetime to sink myself in you." — said ( @zobriezalarys ) daemon targaryen to rhaenyra targaryen.

She  arched  her  back  against  him,  revelling  in  the  hot  shiver  it  caused  in  her  as  she  felt  his  hardness.  Rhaenyra's  hands  moved  down  and  under  her  oversized  shirt,  sliding  his  where  they  rested  on  her  ribcage,  the  wall  was  somewhat  harsh  against  her  skin  but  so  cooling  against  the  heat  that  consumed  her,  the  heat  only  Daemon  inspired  in  her.  A  hand  reached  up  to  cup  the  back  of  his  neck,  drawing  his  lips  to  her  throat  where  just  the  sensation  of  his  breath  over  her  skin  had  caused  a  shiver.  It  was  bold  to  assume  no  one  would  see  them,  her  hair  tumbled  loose  and  identical  to  her  uncles,  even  dressed  plainly,  and  it  caused  her  heart  to  thud  heavily  in  her  chest.  It  shouldn't  make  her  grind  back  into  him  firmer,  but  it  does  —  the  sounds  around  them  were  an  erotic  soundtrack  as  she  turned  to  face  him,  reaching  up  to  chase  his  lips  for  a  needy  kiss.

Daemon's  weight  pressing  her  against  the  wall  steadied  her  as  she  jumped  a  little,  just  enough  to  wrap  her  legs  around  his  waist.  Rhaenyra  whined  against  his  lips,  the  words  running  through  her  until  she  felt  them  in  her  bones  and  she  pressed  her  body  closer  against  him.  There  was  nobody  else  she  could  see  giving  herself  too,  maybe  this  would  force  her  father's  hand  and  he'd  let  them  wed.  Maybe  someone  should  see  them,  the  princess  shuddered  and  bit  at  his  lip  on  a  soft  moan. "Daemon," her hips rocked against him, "I want you. You knew that before I did."  Rhaenyra  forced  her  hand  between  them,  pushing  away  fabric  to  finish  pulling  at  the  lacings  of  his  trousers,  she  wanted  to  feel  him, and feel him buried inside her, feel what it felt like to be whole. Her fingers slipped beneath the fabric, grazing frustratingly against Daemon's cock, almost teasingly by accident, not quite able to reach fully between them — and not sure what exactly she wanted to do anyway.  All Rhanyrea knew was that she'd  been  waiting  for  this  since  he  finally  noticed  her...  finally  saw  her, since she figured out what exactly desire was.  She whined urgently against his lips as she moved her hand over the hard muscle of his lower abdomen, nails grazing white-pink lines. And, almost  as  though  she  was  sure  that  this  moment  would  slip  away  if  she  didn't  speak  now. Rhaenyra continued quietly, finding his eyes and revelling in the way their gaze met again caused her breath to hitch in excited anticipation in her throat,  "I'm tired of waiting, aren't you?"

[sigilsins]

𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐞; 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒚𝒆𝒔, 𝒏𝒐, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒎𝒂𝒚𝒃𝒆'𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒌𝒔.

RHAENYRA TARGARYEN is a — submissive* / switch / dominant / *a bratty submissive

bold  is  highly favoured,  italicised  is  partner  (or  context)-dependent plain  is  neutral or unexplored,  and  strike  indicates  a  non-interest.

age  gap  /  begging  /  breath  play  /  breeding  /  BSDM  /  bondage  /  daddy  kink  /  dirty  talk  /  D/s  dynamic  /  erotic  humiliation  /  edging  (orgasm  control)  /  exhibitionism  /  face  slapping  /  foot  fetish  /  gagging  /  group  sex  /  impact  play  /  masochism  (receiving  pain)  /  mommy  kink  /  pegging  /  public  sex  /  praise  kink  /  restraints  /  rope  play  /  role  playing  /  risk  play  /  sadism  (inflicting  pain)  /  spanking  /  swinging  /  teasing  /  threesomes  /  temperature  play  /  voyeurism  /  worship

[sigilsins]

𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲 & 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞 𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐞; 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒚𝒆𝒔, 𝒏𝒐, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒎𝒂𝒚𝒃𝒆'𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒌𝒔.

mature & us.fw content below, not intended for minors / minors dni. please copy the template below! bold the kinks your muse enjoys and strike out those they are not interested in. IF SENDING TO A MUMU, REMEMBER TO SPECIFY MUSE.

[MUSE NAME] is a — submissive / switch / dominant

age gap / begging / breath play / breeding / BSDM / bondage / daddy kink / dirty talk / D/s dynamic / erotic humiliation / edging (orgasm control) / exhibitionism / face slapping / foot fetish / gagging / group sex / impact play / masochism (receiving pain) / mommy kink / pegging / public sex / praise kink / restraints / rope play / role playing / risk play / sadism (inflicting pain) / spanking / swinging / teasing / threesomes / temperature play / voyeurism / worship

[sigilsins]

Daemon's  teeth  nip  her  shoulder,  smiling  at  Alicent's  breathy  questions,  nodding  in  silent  affirmation.  He  intends  it  to  be  better  in  fact,  when  he  learns  the  way  she  likes  to  be  pleased,  how  she  likes  to  be  fucked,  and  loved,  —  there  were  so  many  firsts  she  had  yet  to  experience,  and  he's  selfishly  looking  forward  to  every,  single  one.  She  looks  like  an  erotic  piece  of  art,  eyes  closed  and  gasping  as  he  etches  in  his  mind  the  memory  of  himself  buried  inside  her�� this  first  time.  Alicent  is  learning  to  rise  and  fall  with  him,  small  twists  and  rolls  of  her  hips  starting  to  come beautifully  naturally,  "you  will,"  Daemon  assures  her  gently,  "you'll  learn,"  and  arches  himself  into  her,  stealing  her  attention  in  a  deep  kiss  and  groaning  softly  against  her  lips  as  she  rolls  her  hips  up  into  his,  her  soft  sounds  of  pleasure  into  his  mouth  and  the  way  she  grasps  at  him  with  each  thrust  is  intoxicating.  Perhaps  he'll  make  the  wedding  short,  simply  to  have  her  back  like  this  —  all  his.

When  she  arches  against  him  and  murmurs  the  one  desire  she  cant  find  the  words  for,  his  hand  grips  her  thigh  harder  and  he  drives  himself  deeper.  He  moans  a  soft  curse  in  Valyrian,  and  then  finds  himself  proudly  purring  a  string  of  praises  to  Alicent  in  the  tongue  she  does  not  yet  fully  know.  The  muscles  of  his  back  tense  as  he  holds  himself  inside  her,  and  her spoken  thoughts  continue  to  send  unintended  waves  of  boiling  heat  throughout  him.  Daemon's  hand  slides  with  her,  cupping  her  thigh  and  holding  her  with  eyes  pressed  closed  as  she  grinds  against  his  cock,  he  gasps  out her name in pleasant surprise,  a  little  smile  on  his  lips  (he  can't  help  it)  ;  "I  cannot  say,  perhaps  we  shall  have  more  than  one  and  find  out.  I  did  not  know  you  were  so  eager  to  carry  my  children,"  purple  eyes  open  to  catch  her  expression  of  ecstasy,  kissing  the  corner  of  her  lips  as  he  says  his  name  over  and  over. It's a thing even his dreams couldn't have conjured:  "such  a  lovely  wife  I  have."

Daemon  hikes  her  leg  higher,  the  grip  on  her  thigh  aiding  in  the  sensational  grinding  of  her  cunt  against  him;  hot  and  tight  and  perfect.  "Iksā  vok,  perfect,"  he  gasps,  as  her  body  flutters  around  him.  Daemon  kisses  her  again,  until  his  lungs  burn  slightly  and  he  feels  a  heated  twist  in  his  gut.  Alicent's  words  have  driven  him  to  an  unexpected  sort  of  madness;  selfishly  hungry  to  give  her  what  she  wants.  He  pushes  himself  upwards,  straightens,  and  settles  back  to  see  Alicent  laid  before  him,  running  his  hands  over  her  legs  as  they  quiver  slightly:  "and  so  they  will,  my  darling."  His  hand  drifts  quickly  to  lift  her  hips  into  him,  and  the  other  moves  to  graze  slickly  over  her  clit,  gently  at  first;  and  then  firmer.  Daemon  knows  she  is  likely  shy;  feeling  so  exposed,  yet  he  cannot  help  but  drink  in  the  sight.  Effortlessly  he  distracts  her  by  dragging  her  hips  against  him,  again  and  again,  matching  the  speed  of  his  fingers  on  her;  a  slow,  burning  kind  of  pace  that  wrenches  the  breath  from  his  lungs  each  time.  After  a  second  of  enjoying  the  sight  of  himself  sliding  into  her  trembling  body,  glistening  with  her  arousal,  Daemon  starts  circling  her  clit  more  intently;  "would  you  like  to  know  what  that  feels  like when I come for you;  my  cock  throbbing  deep  inside  you as I fill you up?  Is that what you mean?"  his  thighs  flex  as  he  thrusts  quicker,  more  desperate,  more  greedy,  he wants to drive his come into her as she quakes, ensuring none goes to waste. "Fall  apart  for  me,  I  know  you  can  —  and  I  will.  Can  you  do  that  for  me, Alicent, sweetness?    You  did  promise,"  he  can  hold  himself  at  bay,  for  a  time,  because  if  she  desires  the  feeling  of  being  full;  he  wants  her  to  feel  it  as  he  explodes  on  his  cock  for  the  first  time.  No  sensation  is  more  enticing  to  him.

Alicent's   heart   pounded   in   her   chest,   the   soft   glow   of   candlelight   flickering   shadows   across   the   room,   casting   Daemon's   figure   in   an   ethereal   light.   His   words   wrapped   around   her   like   a   binding   vow,   the   promise   of   their   union   sealing   more   than   just   their   bodies,   but   their   fates.   His   touch   was   both   foreign   and   exhilarating,   drawing   responses   from   her   that   she   had   not   known   her   body   could   give.   The   sensation   of   him   filling   her,   guiding   her,   made   her   tremble   beneath   him,   her   hands   gripping   his   skin,   nails   biting   into   his   shoulders.

His   praise,   gentle   but   commanding,   sent   a   flush   to   her   cheeks,   the   unfamiliarity   of   it   all   leaving   her   feeling   both   lost   and   grounded   by   his   presence.   Daemon’s   movements   were   steady,   deliberate,   yet   his   tenderness   was   something   she   hadn’t   expected   from   him.   His   lips   against   hers,   his   whispered   words   of   praise,   of   pleasure—it   was   as   if   he   was   unraveling   her   piece   by   piece,   molding   her   to   fit   his   needs,   but   in   a   way   that   made   her   feel   seen,   valued.   "Does   it   always   feel   like   this?"   Will   he   feel   like   this   every   time?   She   almost   moans   at   the   thought,   mind   clouded   with   the   sharpness   of   his   movements.

Alicent   gasped   softly   as   his   pace   quickened,   her   body   instinctively   responding   to   his   guidance,   the   tension   inside   her   building   with   each   thrust.   Her   breath   hitched   when   he   asked   her   to   speak,   to   tell   him   what   she   wanted.   Words   caught   in   her   throat,   her   inexperience   leaving   her   unsure   of   how   to   answer.

She   had   been   raised   to   be   proper,   to   be   reserved,   and   now,   faced   with   Daemon’s   insistence,   she   struggled   to   find   her   voice.   Instead,   she   responded   the   only   way   she   knew   how—by   moving   her   hips   against   his,   matching   his   rhythm   as   best   as   she   could,   her   eyes   fluttering   shut   in   overwhelmed   surrender.   It   brings   a   new   pleasure,   to   feel   their   bodies   move   together   in   unison.   "I   don't   know   what   I   want."   she   stammered   softly,   her   lips   parting   as   she   gasped   again   at   the   intensity   of   his   next   thrust.   "I   need...   you."

Daemon's   body   pressed   firmly   against   hers,   his   lips   on   hers,   and   his   whispered   promises   filling   her   ears,   she   felt   a   strange   sense   of   belonging.   "I   want   you   to   fill   me."   The   thought   was   not   daring,   he   is   to   be   her   husband,   it   is   expected.   But   her   dreams   are   those   of   a   girl   learning   that   some   dreams   do   come   true.   "Do   you   think   a   babe   will   be   born   with   your   eyes   and   my   hair?   Perhaps   all   Targaryen   looks."   She   would   not   mind   giving   him   children,   all   of   those   he   desires.   She   raises   her   leg   higher   as   she   grins   as   he   told   her   and   moans   his   name   as   if   he   was   the   Father   himself.   "I   need   to   feel   you.   Tomorrow   we   will   wed   while   my   legs   ache   for   you."

[sigilsins]

Through slightly gritted teeth and with a light flush on his chest he replies, "Not  anyone  is  as  quiet  of  foot  as  you,"  it's  hard  not  to  let  his  eyes  wander  over  her,  and  it's  fortunate  she  had  not  walked  in  earlier  because  he  may  have  been  too  shy  to  allow  the  searching  gaze  over  his  nude  form  as  he  continues.  When  her  lips  part,  his  hips  respond  with  a  small  flex  upwards  and  a  tight  exhale,  he  can't  place  why  he  likes  the  sense  of  curiosity  on  her  expression,  there  is  an  intensity  in  how  she  almost  inspects  him.  "A  woman,"  Edric  responds  on  clipped  breath,  hand  still  moving,  twisting  pleasurably  around  his  cock  as  the  image  floats  back  into  his  mind:  "No  one  specifically.  Just...  a  woman,"  it  had  been  a  vague  feminine  form,  that  —  through  no  fault  of  his  (he  tells  himself  wryly)  own  —  now  seems  to  have  dark  hair  and  sharp  eyes  like  the  ones  upon  him  right  now.  A  moan  catches  in  his  throat  as  her  gaze  falls  to  his  cock,  and  his  pace  slows  to  a  sensory  drag  that  causes  a  shudder  to  roll  down  his  spine.

" 've never been watched before," Edric responds roughly, doing his best to keep his breathing somewhat measured. It's  difficult,  though,  as  he  drinks  in  the  way  she  genuinely  seems  to  find  him  pleasuring  himself  fascinating,  how  the  smirk  reaches  her  eyes  and  softly  pinkens  her  cheeks.  It's  even  more  difficult  to  keep  full  focus  on  her  words  because  his  eyes  are  wandering  too,  now,  openly  trailing  to  the  curve  of  her  chest  —  more  exposed  now  as  she  leans  in.  Down  the  shape  of  her  hips,  her  legs,  catching  the  shift  of  her  body  as  she  moves  her  thighs  beneath  the  skirts  she  wears,  "—  but  I  like  the  way  you  watch  me.  Seems  like  ...  you're  enjoying  yourself."  He  groans  as  the  sentence  leaves  his  mouth,  feeling  precome  weep  from  the  tip  of  his  cock  and  heat  blossom  more  intensely  in  his  abdomen.

Arya's mouth draws his attention again, and her then eyes, they  shine  a  little  brighter  the  longer  she  stares.  Edric  feels  a  little  performative,  a  little  more  lewd,  as  he  uses  his  fingers  to  smear  the  precome  over  the  swollen  head  of  his  cock;  his  whole  body  shudders  and  his  eyes  slide  shut  again.  Through  laboured  breaths  he  dares  admit;  "it's  hard  not  to  think  of  you  now,  Arya  ...  Hard  not  to  wonder,  a  little;  if  you  gasp  only  watching  me,"  his  rhythm  hastens,  teeth  biting  at  cheek  as  he  swears  lowly  at  the  friction  building  upon  the  tension  inside  him.  Edric  turns  his  head  slightly as it rests upon the back of the chair  and  searches  her  gaze  with  hooded,  reckless,  carnal  curiosity. He licks  his  lips,  breathing  ragged  as  he  slowly  and  tightens  his  grip, drawing out his pleasure as he indulges in this unexpected near-fantasy. His next words are chosen with brazen illicit intent, shameless as his lustful gaze slides down her body to the covered apex of her thighs;   "–  hard  not  to  be  curious  if  the  sight  of  my  cock  is  causing  your  cunt  to  dampen."

Once,   she   had   figure   to   never   be   like   her   sister.   Boy-crazed   was   not   something   Arya   wanted   to   be,   less   so   over   princess.   At   least   she   got   that   one   aspect   right,   or   perhaps   she   is   what   her   aunt   Lyanna   could   not,   for   her   fascination   began   when   she   had   to   disguise   herself   as   a   young   boy   and   travelled   with   Gendry.   He   had   been   greased   and   a   blacksmith   and   she   watched   the   way   his   muscles   worked   and   she   realized   that   first   time,   that   perhaps   she   is   not   as   uninterested   in   young   men   as   she   thought.   And   now,   with   age   on   her   and   growth,   she   finds   herself   looking   at   another   Baratheon   bastard   whose   body   enthralls   her.  

She   had   seen   many   things   in   her   travels   and   yet,   looking   at   Edric   felt   almost   enticing   when   she   found   him   touching   himself.   "Anyone   could   had   walked   in."   Arya   tells   him   as   she   does   step   closer,   eyes   cast   down   as   they   take   on   the   man's   body,   the   way   he   slides   down   and   his   body   is   bare   for   her   to   look   in   full.   Lips   part   at   such   obscenity   almost,   except   she   cannot   look   away.   "What   were   you   thinking   about?"   She   wonders   out   loud   "or   who."   The   wolf-girl   speaks   in   turn   as   her   own   breath   seems   to   match   his   own   as   she   watch   him,   first   to   his   eyes   and   then   down.   "I   never   watched   anyone   before."   Arya   speaks   the   truth,   she   had   not   looked   at   anyone   like   this   before,   curiousity   had   gotten   the   best   of   her   in   that   moment   and   she   knew   she   wanted   to   see   more.  

She   leans,   as   if   this   was   casual,   close   to   where   he   is,   and   legs   press   against   one   another,   feeling   something   between   her   legs   begin   to   beg   for   her   to   touch.   "Do   you   like   being   watched?"   Arya   speaks   in   turn,   matching   his   smirk   with   her   own   but   the   sight   does   turn   her   smirk   into   opened   gasp,   the   way   he   moans   at   his   own   touch.   Men   seem   sensitive   there,   all   that   talk   about   cocks   and   she   can   see   the   appeal,   despite   what   others   say,   perhaps   it's   just   the   amount   of   time   she   spent   on   the   read   with   other   men   and   yet,   never   caught   anyone   doing   this.