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reeseelise · 9 months ago

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Come What May

summary: aemond gets his first true taste of battle, you comfort him in the aftermath.

pairing: aemond targaryen x baratheon!reader

warnings: mature/explicit, 18+ (minors dni!), no use of y/n, afab reader, reader is described as having long black hair to suit baratheon standards but no other physical descriptors are used, spoilers, mentions of canon character injury but no gore, angst, breast/nipple play, fingering, oral (f receiving), piv sex, unprotected sex, dirty talk, slight breeding kink, slight possessive aemond, soft aemond, vulnerable aemond, we love men who cry

word count: 5.8k

a/n: i've had this idea in my head for the longest time and i think it turned out much more delicious than i was expecting! hope you all enjoy!

likes, comments, & reblogs are very appreciated but never required!

gif creds to @aemondtargaryensource

divider creds to @targaryen-dynasty

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“My love, surely Ser Criston can hold his own,” you plead, wringing your hands nervously as your husband reads from the small scroll that was delivered to your chambers only moments ago, “It’s already been days, surely if they were going to retaliate, they would’ve done so by now.”

“We made the mistake of underestimating my sweet sister and her traitorous lot once before,” Aemond sighs, lilac eye scanning over the rolled parchment once more before before holding a corner of it to one of the many dripping wax candles housed on the small desk in your rooms, “It’s an error we can never afford to make again, not after what happened to little –” The muscles in his jaw clench as he cuts himself off with another harsh sigh, tossing the burning paper into a small metal bowl before turning to you.

“It’s an official summons,” he continues, voice softer now as he swiftly crosses the room until he stands before you. “I can’t simply ignore the Hand, nor my brother,” he murmurs, pulling a sigh from your lips as his hands wrap around your waist. You let your eyes slip closed for a moment when he leans down and presses a sweet kiss to the top of your head before resting his forehead against yours, your own hands gripping tightly to the front of his black tunic.

“I understand,” you say softly, swallowing thickly as you try to ignore the tightness at the back of your throat, a million unsettling what if’s playing in your mind's eye, “I just want you to come b-back to me.”

Upon hearing the break in your voice, Aemond pulls away with a tight smile. “Shh, little wife,” he whispers, gently wiping at the corner of your eyes as tears begin to gather, “I will return to you, I swear it.”

A slight flush covers the apples of your cheeks as you peer up at him, still so cautious of being weepy and emotional so soon into your marriage despite the prince’s many assurances that he was more than happy to have you exactly how you are. After a moment, you manage to blink the tears from your eyes and steady your breath, giving your husband a reassuring nod just as the doors open and a flood of servants and squires rush in to assist Aemond with his armor.

Leaving them be, you step out onto the balcony of your chambers, grateful for the cooling breeze rolling in from Blackwater Bay. Resting your hands atop the rough stone wall, you gaze out over the calm waters, watching as the sun rises and paints them in shades of orange and pink. Each time you spot a stray seagull, your heart clenches tightly in your chest – worried for a moment that it’s Meleys and her rider, come to finish what they started at Aegon’s coronation.

You startle as rough hands wrap around your middle from behind, a small gasp leaving you as your eyes pop open, seeing the sun a bit higher in the sky now before you look over your shoulder.

“Dare I ask where your pretty head was?”

“Praying,” you answer your husband with a smile, turning in his grasp, “Asking the Seven to protect you, to bring you back to me in one piece.”

Chuckling, Aemond tenderly cups your jaw with one hand, the smooth leather of his glove soft against your skin. “I assure you they will,” he says, dipping his head and kissing you with a small sigh, the metal plate armor on his torso cool against your skin, even through the fabric of your nightgown. “I do not fear this battle, sweetling, not with Vhagar at my side – she has more years of experience fighting in wars than either of us could dare imagine, many more than that old cunt or her beast. I trust her to know what’s right.”

Nodding, you follow him inside, a small smile on your lips while you listen to him talk about his dragon, finding endless amusement in the way he always speaks of her with such reverence. The two of you stand together in the low, flickering light of the many candles in your chambers, the early morning light from the drawn curtains casts faint shadows across the room as you look over your husband, unused to seeing him in true armor.

“I suppose you’re ready, then?” You ask, glancing over the fine black plates, each custom made to hug his lithe form perfectly.

“Almost,” he says, the corners of his lips quirk into a small smile in the same instance that familiar, mirthful glimmer takes residence in his eye.

“Oh?” You question, already familiar with where this is going; the smile on your lips only grows as he takes your hand and leads you over to your vanity table by the wardrobes.

“Braid my hair,” he says, always one to keep his requests of you simple, “As you do before I go riding… please.”

It’s the small please that always gets you, a courtesy Aemond so rarely bestows upon others. With a small nod, you watch as he sits on the small silk-covered chair, his lilac eye watching you from the mirror as you lean forward to grab the ornate metal hairbrush Alicent had gifted you after your wedding to her son.

Meeting his eye in the mirror once more, you give him a small smile before focusing on his hair. You run the brush through the pale, silky strands with a practiced ease; before you, the prince hadn’t dared to let anyone do his hair, and was quick to snap at any of the servants if they tried. But with you, he was quite different – much more vulnerable behind closed doors than many would expect.

Glancing up in the mirror as you brush through his long hair, the smile returns to your lips when you see his eye closed, a small sigh leaving his lips as he allows himself to relax for a moment more. It’s easy to fall into a rhythm in the quiet of the early morning, your hands steady as you run the fine brush through section after section of hair, humming a song to yourself as you go.

Finally, you set the brush back down and carefully section off a lock of hair at one of his temples, already knowing how he usually preferred it be styled. Just as you have it separated into three sections, however, one of his hands closes around yours and you lift your eyes up to his in the mirror.

“Is something the matter?”

“No, no,” he replies softly, his one eye glancing away from you, almost nervously, “I simply have a favor to ask of you, my lady. Something I’ve been unable to get off my mind, not since the threat of war became real.”

“Ask it, then.”

With a small sigh, Aemond turns in the chair, moving to face you as he takes your hands once more, calloused thumbs rubbing gently over the backs of them. “I know it is a strange request but… I would like a lock of your hair, sweet one, to braid into my own.”

Your brows knit together at his words, having not expected a request such as that, and your head tilts to the side questioningly, “I see no problem with doing it, but may I ask why?”

“I am not a superstitious man, as you well know,” he starts, smiling when you nod along with his words, “However, I have come to think of you as a good luck charm, of sorts.”

“A good luck charm?” You echo, a little blush coloring your cheeks as a shy smile tugs at your lips, your heart racing at the thought of being something so precious.

Aemond squeezes your hands and nods, “These past few moons have been difficult, between my brother adjusting to the crown and everyone else shuffling about, and the horrors that my sweet sister endures, little Jaehaerys, the numerous threats from Dragonstone, everything, I…” He pauses, brows furrowing as he stares at the stone floor, jaw clenched.

Your heart clenches in your chest as you raise a hand to his cheek, thumb stroking over the scarred skin just below his sapphire eye, the sight of it mystical to you even after so many months spent with him. Studying his face, you can’t help but notice the darkness under his eyes, a product of the many restless nights he’s faced, though a small sad smile claws at your lips as he leans into your touch – eye closing briefly as he savors it, practically purring like a housecat.

“Your presence has been the only thing that brings me comfort,” he murmurs finally, lilac eye peering up at you as he makes no move to lean away from your touch, “I find my spirits lift when I’m around you – your touch, your sweet scent, they… they calm my mind, steady my heart.”

“Oh, Aemond,” you breathe, heart racing in your chest at his words.

“I would like a piece of you with me always,” he continues, lilac eye brimming with sincerity, “To calm me when you’re away.”

You’re nodding before he can even finish his sentence, “Of course, my love, of course we can do that.” You sniffle, trying your hardest to keep your emotions at bay as the backs of your eyes sting with love-filled tears.

Again, Aemond watches as you quickly walk over to the small side table where you keep your needlework supplies. Shuffling through the small woven basket they’re stored in, you locate the small scissors used to cut thread and make your way back over to the vanity.

Bending at the waist a little, you look into the mirror, briefly meeting your husband’s eye again as you select a small lock of hair toward the back of your head, one that will be easily hidden among the rest as it grows back. With practiced motions, you quickly knot the fine strand into a thin braid before getting the scissors as close to your scalp as you dare. You carefully cut away at it until it comes away, the bundle of strands clutched tightly between two of your fingers.

Returning the scissors to the basket, you grab a small bundle of thread, close to the same dark color of your hair, and return to the prince, quickly tying off both ends of the braid before holding it up with a small smile.

“Good?”

“Good.”

Quickly taking your place by Aemond, you once again separate a lock of his hair into thirds, adding your own strand to the mix before easily winding them together in a long, silvery braid, the black of your own hair standing out strikingly against your husband’s. Finally, you gather the rest of his hair into its usual half up and half down style, thick braid skirting down one side of his head before joining the rest as you secure it with a thin leather cord.

“There,” you breathe, stepping back just enough for Aemond to stand, “All done.”

“Perfect as usual, sweetling,” the prince smiles, tight lipped, “Thank you.” He murmurs, again, a courtesy reserved for you.

“Of course,” you all but whisper, both you and Aemond pausing as you stare at one another, neither of you wanting to say goodbye first.

You nearly jump out of your skin as a knock interrupts the moment, both of your heads swiveling to the doors of your chambers as they creak open.

Ser Willis Fell, a member of Aegon’s Kingsguard steps into the room, bowing politely as he addresses you both. “Prince, Princess,” he says curtly, one hand balanced on the pommel of the sword that hangs from his waist, “I apologize for the intrusion, I’ve been instructed to inform the prince that he is to depart for Rook’s Rest immediately – King Aegon is already waiting at the Dragonpit.”

Aemond nods with a heavy sigh, turning back to you. Before he can get a word in, you practically throw yourself at him, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck as the doors click closed once more. “Please come back to me,” you breathe against the crook of his neck, tightness once again taking residence at the back of your throat as his arms wind around you, one hand rubbing soothingly up and down your back.

“I will, my sweet girl, I swear it,” he promises lowly, long arms squeezing him to you as tight as he dares, not wanting to bruise your skin against his armor, “I swear upon the Seven I’ll come back, I will not leave you, I refuse.”

Nodding, your breath catches in your throat as you slip away from him, just enough to angle your face up to his. His eye glances over your face quickly before he presses his lips against yours, both of you desperate to pour as much emotion into the kiss as you can as your lips move together for a moment.

Finally, he pulls away with a pained sigh, holding your face in his hands. “Avy jorrāelan,” he whispers, the very first Valyrian phrase he taught you. (I love you.)

“Avy jorrāelan tolī, ñuha valzȳrys,” you reply, the practiced phrase coming easily to you after all these months. (I love you too, my husband.)

With one final kiss, Aemond departs, the walk toward your chamber doors seeming like the longest of his life.

The rest of the day passes by painfully slowly, though you do all you can to entertain yourself. Everything from taking a much longer time than usual to eat meals, forcing yourself to stomach what little you can with your belly in nervous knots, to spending hours walking through the Red Keep’s gardens.

Which is how you find yourself now, in front of the fire in one of the many ornate sitting rooms, wiling away the time by half-heartedly working on a needlepoint. Alicent sits next to you on the small sofa, restlessly reading over a small stack of letters as Helaena paces, wringing her hands and mumbling to herself under her breath, a common sight following the death of her son.

With a tired sigh, you put down your embroidery hoop, fingers too sore and overworked to continue. “I just want him to come back,” you mutter, staring vacantly into the fire, “Or to get some word, some update. Just to know.”

“He’ll come back, sweetling,” Alicent murmurs softly, setting the letters aside as she places a comforting hand on your knee, “They both will.” She finishes, glancing over at her daughter with a longing stare, wishing there was anything she could do to ease her pain.

The both of you sit for a while longer, the navy sky outside growing steadily darker, before Alicent sighs and looks at you with a sad half-smile. “You may as well go to bed, dear,” she says softly, “Staying up worrying won’t do any good.”

Knowing she’s right, you quickly bid her goodnight before taking your leave.

You lay in bed, tossing and turning for a long while, thoughts filled with nothing but your husband, before sleep finally takes you. Even then, it’s not restful, dreams filled with visions of blood and fire, of the sounds of screaming and swords clanging together.

It isn’t until the wee hours of the night, almost sunrise, that a sound wakes you – clanging again, only soft this time, like metal on stone.

You blink your eyes open, a little groan leaving your lips as you rub at them with your fists before –

“Aemond!” You breathe, scrambling under the blankets to get to him, nearly toppling off the bed in your haste.

He makes a small “oof” noise as you throw yourself against his chest, catching you in his arms and holding you tightly. “Careful, love,” he laughs softly, letting his eye slip closed as he kisses the top of your head, breathing in the familiar lavender scent of your hair.

“You came back,” you breathe, winding your arms around his waist as you kneel at the edge of the bed, knees digging into the plush mattress. Upon hugging the prince, you come to realize that the small clanging noise that woke you had to have been him quickly untying his plate armor and stripping off his chainmail, leaving him in a soft tunic and pants – the aforementioned garments lying haphazardly on the floor, their sheen reflected somewhat in the dim glow of the fire.

“Of course I did,” he murmurs, stroking a hand over your back, “I swore I would, didn’t I?”

The two of you fall easily into a comfortable silence, arms wrapped securely around one another as the only noise in the room is the sound of soft breathing and the crackling from the hearth. You can’t help but notice that Aemond smells smokey, much like he does after riding on Vhagar but stronger now, no doubt having been around dragon fire for hours.

After a moment, you peer up at him, eyes finally adjusted to the low light. When you do, you can’t help the small, pitying little gasp that leaves your lips and one hand rises to gently cup his cheek. You’re no stranger to seeing him after a long day training in the yard with Ser Criston, but this is wholly different.

In the pale light, you could make out small dark splotches on his face and neck and upon skirting your thumb over one on his cheek, you come to realize it’s remnants of ash, staining not only his skin but the bits and pieces of his tunic and pants that weren’t covered by armor as well. His hair was still fixed how you’d left it, though messier now – windswept and slightly dusty as well, many of the white strands stained a faint grey, the flash of black from your own braid still cutting through the paleness of his like a knife.

But what really stopped you was his eye, his lilac one; you frown when you notice the uneasy look in it, full of a bitter sadness. “My sweet husband,” you say softly, brows furrowing when you notice a few scant tear stains on his cheek, their paths carved through the spots of ash, “What happened? What did they do to you?” You question, heart racing at the thought of the horrors he must’ve seen – his first real taste of battle.

The prince gazes at you for a long second, his lips parting as one of his hands comes to rest at the nape of your neck, fingers threading through your hair. All at once though, the sadness in his eye changes to a familiar fire, one that makes your heart race for an altogether different reason and desire curls in your belly, coming to rest like a cat in a sunbeam.

“Aemond?” You question, blinking up at him. Suddenly, his lips are on yours, hot and insistent and you’re all too eager to comply, easily melting against him. A whimper leaves your lips, instantly swallowed by his mouth as it moves against yours.

The kiss is more teeth and tongues than anything else, your husband’s slipping against yours with a practiced ease. His hand threads more harshly through your hair, making you moan against his lips as your hands cling tightly to the dark fabric of his tunic, a growl reverberating under them as it emanates from his chest.

“Need you,” he breathes raggedly as his lips part from yours, leaving a trail of wet kisses down your jaw and to your neck. You shudder against him as his teeth nip gently at your skin before his lips suckle at it gently, painting bruises on your throat that match the many he surely has.

“But –” you start, a myriad of questions swirling in your mind despite the pleasure threatening to blot them out.

You’re stopped mid sentence as Aemond suddenly cups one of your breasts, palming eagerly at the tender flesh in a way he knows makes your head spin and don’t miss the ghost of a victorious smirk on his lips at the way you cut yourself off with a small, shuddered moan, squirming in his hold as his thumb skirts over your nipple through the thin fabric of your nightgown.

“Please, sweet one, I need this,” he mumbles, voice muffled against your neck. His hand at the nape of your neck slips down to wrap around the small of your back, arching you against him, “I need you, I need to feel… t-to feel something good again.”

Once more, you’re nodding before he can even finish his request, chest heaving as you fight to keep your eyes open, wanting to keep him in your sights as if he may disappear again if you don’t. “Then take me,” you sigh, a broken moan leaving your lips as he kisses down your neck and across your chest. The hair at the back of your neck raises on end as he mouths over the fat of your breast, dampening the front of your nightgown.

Both of your hands claw desperately at the back of his head, tangling into his long hair messily just as his lips close around your nipple. “Gods!” You cry as he suckles at it needily, still pawing at the other one, savoring the feel of it in his hand.

Just as your thighs begin squeezing together, your center aching, Aemond pulls away, smirking when you whine. Impatient as ever, he quickly pulls at your nightgown, tugging it up and over your head, and tosses it onto the floor with his armor – delicate silk pooling over hard metal – before quickly undoing his tunic, eye glimmering proudly at how you always stare at him with such reverence.

“Fuck,” he growls, hands descending passionately against you once more, one again kneading at your breast as the other slides against your hip, long fingers digging into the fat of your ass, “You get more beautiful every time I see you.” He whispers against your lips, strands of silver hair falling loose from his braid and fanning around his face.

His lips press against yours once more, teeth teasingly nipping at your lower lip as your nails dig into his shoulders and chest, anxious for more even as you blush at his words. Always one to please, the prince wastes no time in trailing kisses back over your neck, pausing to nip and suck once again at his marks from earlier, needing to see remnants of himself on your delicate skin.

Again, he traces a bath down across your chest before licking over your nipple, needing to give attention to the breast he’d missed earlier. His tongue laves over it greedily and you moan at the feel of his length, hard and hot against your lower belly even through the cotton of his trousers.

Just as his teeth nip softly at your taut bud, the hand on your hip shifts toward your center, making your breath catch in your throat. Suckling at your nipple once more, Aemond gently runs his fingers through your already dripping folds, pulling a loud, whiny whimper from you as his lips curl into a smirk, a pleased hum radiating against your breast.

“Husband, please,” you whine, finding your voice once more as he rests his forehead against yours, chuckling at your cries.

“Seems I’m not the only one that needs this, hm?” He teases, eye glancing over your face as his fingers lightly rub against your aching bud, your breaths mingling together.

“A-Always need you,” you say breathily, your hips moving of their own accord as he plays with you, your own hands clutching at him like an anchor, “I’ll always, fuck! I’ll always need you, Aemond.”

He feels his heart skip in his chest at that and once again grows restless, the need to have you, to feel nothing but you burns through him like fire. Distantly, in the back of his mind, he thinks how the sincerity in your tone reminds him of your wedding vows, whispered to him in the Sept as if the two of you were the only people in the universe – how he wishes that were true.

With a grunt, he presses his lips harshly against yours once more before leaning forward, pressing himself over you until you have no choice but to buckle and fall to your back against the bed. Unable to think of anything else, he wastes no time in kneeling at the side of the bed, knees against one of the many fur rugs dotted over the floors of your chamber.

A squeal leaves your lips as the prince clutches at your ankles and pulls you toward him, until your ass is nearly hanging off the edge of the bed. A breathy whimper leaves you as you peer down at him, resting back on your elbows as your teeth bite into your lower lip.

Your hips buck as Aemond kisses up your thighs, long hair tickling your soft skin, and you whine as he licks at the curve where your thigh and center meet. A breath leaves him as he uses his thumbs to part your folds, licking his lips at how your arousal already coats them, wetness catching in the dim light of the fire.

“The Stranger himself wouldn’t be able to tear me from this,” your husband murmurs lowly, nearly growling as he glances between your face and your dripping heat like a starving man looking over a feast.

With a groan, he finally dives in, moaning nearly as loud as you do as he greedily mouths at your cunt, tongue licking harshly over you from bottom to top. Every muscle in your body seems to seize as lightning bolts of pleasure crackle up and down your spine.

Your head flops back against the bed as Aemond licks and suckles at your folds, burying his face against your center as he licks into you, nose pressed tightly against your pearl. Your fingers tangle into his hair once more, back arching as he groans into your heat, all but fucking you on his tongue as obscene wet sounds echo about the room.

“Oh Gods, f-fuck,” you whine, hips rutting against his face as the heat in your belly threatens to boil over already. Your eyes roll back as he chuckles against you and licks up to your bud, suckling at it eagerly, making you clench around nothing.

“Gods, you taste good, so sweet,” the prince mumbles against you, lapping at your pearl as he runs two thick fingers through your folds, coating them in your arousal. “I would kill Death himself for this, my love,” he rasps, leaning up to watch the expressions on your face as he presses his fingers into you, impatiently crooking them up in just the way you like, fucking and rubbing them against the sensitive spot within you with practicied ferocity.

“Please, please, please,” you pant, belly knotting tighter and tighter at his words, the gruffness of his voice, head so clouded you aren’t even entirely sure what you’re begging for.

Aemond smirks and licks and sucks at your bud for a moment more, savoring every whine and whimper he pulls from you. “Let go, my love,” he murmurs, grinning at the way your heat clenches tightly around his fingers, “Peak, let me feel it.”

You wail as the cord within you breaks, shuddering and babbling the prince’s name again and again as pleasure washes over you, your muscles tensing and relaxing in a dizzying rhythm as he works you through it. You nearly peak again as he groans against you, lips wrapped around your pearl as he suckles, gradually slowing his fingers within you.

Finally, you come down, though the fire within you still burns brightly, still aches for him. You watch through half-lidded eyes as he rises from the floor, lilac eye looking over your disheveled form proudly as white strands of hair cling to his face, still sticky with your arousal.

His chest heaves as he quickly undoes the ties of his trousers and tugs them off his long, lean legs. He wipes at his lips with the back of his hand as he leans back over you and you whine when you feel the heat of his length pressing against you, trapped between your two bodies, the tip already red and leaking against your belly.

“You’re so good to me,” he murmurs softly, leaning forward to kiss you as he savors the little gasp that leaves your lips as he reaches down with one hand, positioning his cock at your sensitive entrance, “My perfect, sweet girl.”

You nod your head, hands cupping his face as he pushes into you. Your mouth falls open in a loud gasp and you tremble in his hold as he presses forward, sheathing himself inside of you completely with a pleased groan.

“Oh, my love,” you finally pant, savoring the way his length feels within you, pressing against every part of you as he fills you completely, “You feel so good, husband, always so good.”

He growls at that, the breathiness of your tone making his eye flutter shut as he begins rutting against you, grinding his hips against your own. “You were made for me,” he muses, groaning when you begin kissing over the pale column of his throat, “Made to be mine.”

“For you,” you agree between kisses and licks, heart fluttering at the way his thrusts stutter each time your teeth graze over his skin, “Only for you, my sweet prince.”

Aemond groans above you and settles into a practiced rhythm, thick cock spearing into you again and again as your legs wrap around his hips, holding you to him as if he would ever dream of pulling away. One of his hands rests at the nape of your neck again, holding you against his throat as the other grabs at your waist, marveling at the way your breasts move against his chest, bouncing lightly with each thrust.

The thought of them full of milk, your belly swollen with his seed, flashes across his mind and he growls low in his chest, cock twitching within you.

As you squirm beneath him, your husband can tell you’re close, as if the steady pulse of your core around his length wasn’t warning enough. “I would go to war for this cunt,” he groans, locking eyes with you as your foreheads press together once more, “I would burn whole villages to the ground just to have you like this, sweetling.”

His words cascade over you like lava, making your brows furrow together as you gaze up at him, mouth agape. You all but forget to breathe for a moment before a loud, whining moan tears itself from your lips, chest heaving as you fight for air.

“A-Aemond, Aemond, Gods,” you babble, legs tightening around his waist as your nails scratch down his back, making him grunt above you. After only a few more thrusts, you break once more, writhing beneath him.

Distantly, you hear the prince groan and grunt above you as your cunt squeezes around him, determined to hold off his own pleasure long enough to watch you peak once more.

Finally, unable to hold back any longer, Aemond surrenders to the fire within him and moans, voice breaking, as he lets it consume him. Your eyes flutter open as you feel his cock kick inside you and you watch him, mesmerized, as warmth fills you, his seed adding to the sticky mess between your thighs.

He collapses against you, hips still rutting against your own in broken, twitching movements as his own high fades. The two of you lay like that for a moment, panting as you catch your breath, until you realize your husband’s shoulders are shaking beneath your hold, his breath coming in unsteady bursts against your neck from where his head rests against your shoulder.

“My love?” You question, cupping his cheek and bringing his face up just enough to see him. Your heart nearly breaks at the sight of tears pooled in his eye, a few already running down his cheek, “What is it? What’s wrong?” You question, quickly glancing over him, searching for some injury, some source of pain.

Aemond merely shakes his head and sniffles, blinking to dispel his tears as his cheeks flush – he hates the thought of you seeing him so weak. “I’m… I-I’m sorry,” he chokes out finally, holding you against his body tightly despite his embarrassment.

Immediately, you shake your head, pressing a hand against his shoulder until he rolls over, pulling you with him. A soft gasp leaves your lips at the feel of his softening length slipping from your drenched folds as he comes to rest on his back, you at his side, one hand across his chest.

“Shhh, husband,” you murmur, cupping his cheek once more as you lean up on an elbow, “You needn’t apologize to me.” He nods, somewhat half-heartedly, at your words and sighs deeply, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he swallows thickly, trying to chase away the tightness at the back of his throat.

You stay silent for a moment, giving him time to calm down, and let your eyes sweep over his form. Aside from the blotches of ash on his pale skin, and some bruises here and there, he looks nearly untouched. A small smile tugs at your lips despite the situation when you see your lock of hair still wound into his, pale braid practically falling apart by now, most of it pulled free of the leather tie holding it together.

“What’s happened?” You finally ask once his breathing evens out some, your thumb rubbing soothingly over his cheekbone.

“Aegon,” he chokes out, jaw clenching once more as tears run down his cheek yet again.

Your heart clenches as a shot of adrenaline all but knocks the wind from your lungs, “He’s not… h-he didn’t –” You start to question, stopping yourself once Aemond shakes his head.

“No, no,” he confirms, voice ragged and soft as his chest heaves with a sniffle, “Almost, but no.”

“Almost?”

“He… He’s hurt,” Aemond starts, barely a whisper as his eye finally meets yours, “Badly. I don’t… I don’t know what comes next, o-or what to do, what’ll be expected of me, of you –” He mutters, breath picking up as panic rises within him, regretting each time he’d looked at his brother with envy – saw the black crown atop his head, glimmering with red rubies, and thought bitterly that it would suit him better.

“Shhh,” you breathe once more, draping yourself over him like a blanket and pulling a tired sigh from his lips as your touch immediately slows his racing heart. You run your fingers through his hair, black intertwined with white, and press a soothing kiss to his cheek, “I don’t care what comes next, my love.”

Your soft words draw his attention and he looks at you, brows furrowed in surprise, “You don’t?”

“Not at all,” you murmur, steeling yourself to be strong for him regardless of the future, “Whatever happens, I shall face it with you. That’s enough for me.”

gen tags: @helloworldiamnotarobot @drakonflames @marysucks-blog @watercolorskyy @valeskafics @iamaegontargaryenwife0 @aemshaircare @1997babyyyy @lovellies @little-moonbeam-666 @blackswxnn @wickedfrsgrl @echos-muses @imawhorecrux @avidreader73 @marvelescape @rae-11 @ms-morningstarr @chaotic-fangirl-blog @grsveeth0m @twglitching @hb8301 @delulumhaggy @burntliquorlips @fan-goddess @cl-0-vr @kittendoll05 @beautbuck @eponaartemisa @trshngyn @brettlovessuckingcocks @alerisc @moonriseoverkyoto @wolfdressedinlace @do-double-g @kennafild @cruelworldlana @mheraxes @eternallyvenus @chaotic-fangirl-blog @simp-hub-bro @badxbabyyy @venchi-cremino

aemond tags: @demirunner @iloveslasher @neithriddle @moneypriestess @anak1nsx @angelinap09

hotd tags: @cuddlejeongin

(tags are based on your answers to my google form; if you were mistakenly tagged, please contact me & update your answers on the form! thank you!)

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reeseelise · 9 months ago

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Fire Lord Zuko passing a law that forbids challenging anyone under the age of majority to Agni Kai

Fire Lord Zuko waiting until the day he reaches the age of majority to pass this law, lest anyone think he is a coward

(No one. Literally no one would have thought that, but it’s generally regarded as a very classy move regardless)

153K notes · View notes

reeseelise · 1 year ago

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MAKE THE FRIENDSHIP BRACELETS, TAKE THE MOMENT AND TASTE IT | AEMOND TARGARYEN

SOCIAL MEDIA!AU summary: in wich aemond is not afraid to make his move. very, very publicly, making the whole internet go insane. pairings: actor!aemond x singer!reader content warnings: faceclaim is sabrina carpenter but you can imagine reader as you'd like, some cursing, taylor swift/travis kelce inspired plot, use of y/n because it is necessary!! if you don’t like it, sorry. note: omg i can't believe i'm doing this, hope you enjoy this piece little piece as much as i enjoyed making it! as i say; being delulu is the solulu. and here i am feeding into all out delusions. comments & reblogs are greatly appreciated! love you, mwah. 💋

TWITTER ‣ AUG 12, 2023.

INSTAGRAM ‣ AUG 12, 2023.

INSTAGRAM ‣ AUG 13, 2023.

Liked by taylorswift, aemondtargaryen, gracieabrams and 1,221,948 others

yourusername oldtown i couldn’t love you more. had the best first night with you and we still have three more to go! thanks so much to everyone there, i couldn't do this whout you. see you tonight for round 2? 🤍

view all 9,328 comments

user1 i can't believe i couldn't be there

zendaya had the best night with u!

yourusername thank u sm for coming, love you. 💗

user2 MOTHER IS MOTHERING

user3 i don't now if i wanna be her or if i wanna be with her

user4 I DON'T KNOW ABOUT YOU BUT I SEE AEMOND TARGARYEN IN HER LIKES

user5 I THOUGHT IT WAS A MISTAKE AT FIRST user6 I mean he was at Oldtown night1 so... user7 HE WENT TO HER CONCERT? user8 BESTIE HAVE YOU NOT SEEN THE PICS?

troyesivan see you 2night oldtown. ✌️

AEMOND TARGARYEN INTERVIEW ‣ AUG 25, 2023.

TWITTER ‣ AUG 25-26, 2023.

INSTAGRAM ‣ SEPT 21, 2023.

Liked by jace_velaryon, therhaenatarg and 891,648 others

fairyhelaena friends and family for the weekend @ highgarden. 💚🌺🪴🍃🕊️

view all 4,778 comments

lucerys03 looking 💯 as always.

baelatarg stop lying to yourself

user9 OH MY GOD IS THAT WHO I THINK IT IS

user10 is that @yourusername in the second slide???

user11 yes!! she's in the fourth one too

yourusername 🤍🤍🤍

user12 it's impossible that she doesn't know about what aemond said, right? user13 knowing how jace is i'm sure she already knows. they probably were giving her a hard time lol

user14 Y/N hanging out with aemond's family but not him would never not make me laugh

user15 he's out there telling the world he likes her and she still hasn't say anything user16 and she doesn't have to. leave the poor girl alone user17 i mean she spent the whole weekend with aemond's sister and nephews, maybe he was there too user18 sorry to disappoint you but he's in king's landing user19 bro must be fuming, everyone in his family meeting his girl except for him

Liked by oliviarodrigo, nicholasgalitzine, aemondtargaryen and 955,899 others

yourusername took a couple of days off to hang out with some friends. see you in a bit for the second and final leg of the cruel summer tour! 💌

view all 11,565 comments

user20 she's glowing

user21 wait- i feel like i've seen that guy before

user22 that's because he's aemond's nephew and also an actor

fairyhelaena my pretty 🌟

user23 THAT'S LUKE VELARYON???????

user24 HE IS !!!!! user25 yes he is, she was with aemond's family during the weekend

user26 idk why but i have the feeling that aemond saw these pics and ran to call luke

user27 and was probably screaming at him for an hour lol user28 another reason for aemond to hate him user29 he doesn't hate him, he's family user28 you can hate family user30 stfu it is well known that they have had their differences but they're in good terms now user31 besides who are we to talk about it? that's private. there are comments under aemond's posts of them joking with each other lol user30 idk why she's talking shit.

user32 WHY IS SHE WITH HIS FAMILY BUT NOT WITH HIM?

user33 what world are we living in

iMESSAGE ‣ SEPT 31, 2023.

TWITTER ‣ OCT 10, 2023.

TWITTER ‣ OCT 28, 2023.

TWITTER ‣ DEC 04, 2023.

let me give you a kiss if you make it here! and let me know if you'd like a part 2 of this little smau. as i said comments & reblog are greatly appreciated!

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reeseelise · 1 year ago

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@ULTR4VJOLENCE MISC RECS .ᐟ

𖥔 ˑ ִ ֗ ִ AARON HOTCHNER

ᥫ᭡ a joyful future

a criminal minds big family!au where aaron gets the love and security he deserves.

ᥫ᭡ agents and asphodel

you hand in your resignation to the BAU.

there is no fanfare, no warning. one minute you’re there, and three weeks later, you’re gone, ousted at the insistence of strauss. but an unknown past holds the key to your personal horror story, one that you thought ended years before and is back with a vengeance — one set on taking you far, far away from the people you call your family.

ᥫ᭡ of terrible coffee and late-night rides

he watches you. maybe the two beers are going to his head, despite his infamous reputation as a heavyweight — all he knows is that his eyes follow as you slip through the crowds, sending beaming grins to some people you know from the office, and... you don’t know, do you? you don’t know how you make people feel. how you make every person you lay eyes on feel like they’re the only one you see; like they’re one in a million. important. you capture their attention with just one look and you keep it, too. you never go away — you burrow yourself into his brain and make a place for yourself there and—

their brains. that’s what he meant.

or: moments throughout your relationship with one aaron hotchner.

ᥫ᭡ moments

agent aaron hotchner, your boss, absolutely hated you. he was suspicious of your true intentions. but you were determined to prove yourself to him, no matter how long it took. or— the long, painful, winding road it takes for you and aaron to get your happily ever after.

ᥫ᭡ intelligence & issues

you’ve been working for the BAU for almost a year now. you know how you feel about your supervisor, but you also know it’s a lost cause. when the next case the BAU is assigned takes the team to your hometown, will it bring the two of you closer, or rip you apart for good?

ᥫ᭡ a hard day’s night

after graduation from the FBI Academy, all new agents go through a year of new agent training before becoming official agents of the bureau. by some stroke of luck, you get assigned to complete your training with the department you’ve always wanted to join— the behavioral analysis unit. you signed up for a year of profiling, case work, and catching serial killers, but you’re in for more than you could ever dream of…

ᥫ᭡ wanna be yours

professor hotchner’s criminal law class has a reputation. professor hotchner has a reputation. on your first day, you manage to draw his anger. he seems to hate you. what happens behind closed doors... that’s a different story.

ᥫ᭡ accidents

as the newest member of the BAU, you had nothing but professional respect for your boss, ssa aaron hotchner. sure, he was an attractive man, but your mind had never strayed even close to considering him as anything more than a capable and accomplished unit chief. this changes drastically through a series of “accidents” and in the end, there is nothing professional about your relationship anymore.

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𖥔 ˑ ִ ֗ ִ SPENCER REID

ᥫ᭡ 3

is it okay to do wrong things for the right reasons? they say the road to hell is paved with good intentions (feat. unsub reader). this is not a love story. there will be no happy ending.

ᥫ᭡ phoenix

it’d been 10 weeks since spencer died in your arms. at least, that’s what you thought. (rewrite of the emily/doyle arc with spencer taking emily’s place)

ᥫ᭡ be a rebel, be bad, stay here and cuddle with me

“i love you, i love you,” he murmured between pecks. tangled in the sheets, his long arms still enveloped your form as he peeked up at the small clock on the bedside table behind you, a heavy sigh promptly escaping his lungs as he read the time, “but i really gotta get up and go to work…”

ᥫ᭡ here to misbehave

spencer spots you at a nightclub and quickly becomes smitten. only problem is he’s an FBI agent and you’re under 21.

ᥫ᭡ domesticity

reader gets worked up watching spencer with kids. he notices.

ᥫ᭡ santa’s gift

reader asks her husband what he wants for christmas.

ᥫ᭡ sunscreen & statistics

reader asks for spencer’s help putting on sunscreen (and washing it off after).

████▒▒▒▒▒▒ 40%

𖥔 ˑ ִ ֗ ִ AEGON II TARGARYEN

ᥫ᭡ when the world is crashing down

your family is house celtigar, one of rhaenyra’s wealthiest allies. in the aftermath of rook’s rest, aemond unknowingly conscripts you to save his brother’s life. now you are in the lair of the enemy, but your loyalties are quickly shifting…

ᥫ᭡ north to the future

the year is 1999. you are just beginning your veterinary practice in juneau, alaska. aegon is a mysterious, troubled newcomer to town. you kind of hate him. you are also kind of obsessed with him. falling for him might legitimately ruin your life… but can you help it? oh, and there’s a serial killer on the loose known only as the ‘ice fisher.’

█████▒▒▒▒▒ 50%

𖥔 ˑ ִ ֗ ִ AEMOND TARGARYEN

ᥫ᭡ the pawn in every lover’s game

when you’re ten, your father sends you to king’s landing to befriend a princess and woo a prince. a lioness growing up amongst dragons is a dangerous thing indeed.

ᥫ᭡ children of the empire

you are the eldest daughter of rhaenyra, princess of dragonstone, and twin to her heir, prince jacaerys. when your younger brother assails your uncle in a childhood squabble, your grandsire, the king viserys, offers your hand in marriage as payment for aemond’s lost eye. plighted in a match that is beheld by many and desired by none, you find yourself alone in a nest of vipers, forced to watch as your mother and the queen maneuver and vie for influence within the court and the realm. despite your youth, fears, and insecurity, you know you must apply your will and wits to one claim or another, but this choice becomes more and more difficult as you find yourself further entrenched within the family who would see your mother and siblings fed to the flames.

ᥫ᭡ studious

your marriage to the one-eyed prince is not as romantic as you hoped. the wedding night is beyond awkward and confusing, and afterward, your husband seems more than content to ignore you. but you keep finding yourself drawn to him, and the strange way he makes you feel.

ᥫ᭡ to make them love me (and make it seem effortless)

you clutch the collar of his shirt. “why do you want to marry me, aemond?”

he looks down at you, and his hands twitch by his sides, no doubt wanting to feel your warmth permeate through your clothes. he can feel your heart hammering underneath your ribs, and he’s sure that if you slide your hands lower, you could feel his racing similarly. your body melds so perfectly to his, and you breathe in sync, as if engaged in a dance of their own. every molecule of your body thrums to life underneath his fingers, every second that passes between you is charged with a tension that threatens to push the both of you over the precipice, and still you do not see.

he hates that, even with one eye, he does.

you await his answer with bated breath, but he sees the way your eyes briefly flicker down to his lips.

ᥫ᭡ take me to the lakes (where all the poets went to die)

you and prince aemond hadn’t seen each other for years since you left the red keep. now, you’re back.

ᥫ᭡ comet donati

sex, drugs, boy bands. you are a kinda-therapist recruited (via nepotism) to help comet donati through a recent crisis. things are casual with aegon, very not-casual with aemond. loosely inspired by one direction.

███████▒▒▒ 70%

𖥔 ˑ ִ ֗ ִ JOEL MILLER

ᥫ᭡ i know it when i see it

it’s the golden age of porn. sex and sin are the national pastime. you fled your suffocating small town to make dirty movies in the big city. you’re paired with joel miller for your first scene.

pornstar!joel miller AU

ᥫ᭡ allowed to be happy

while snowed in on a scouting mission, you tell dina the story of how you and joel met.

ᥫ᭡ mercy.

in a dog-eat-dog world of sliced throats and broken bones in exchange for primal survival, begging for mercy should have been the very last resort.

especially when a certain survivor was holding you at gunpoint.

ᥫ᭡ mr. rattlebone

settled in at jackson, joel and reader avoid their feelings for each other for their own safety.

ᥫ᭡ guard duty

guard duty was absolutely the worst, you thought to yourself with a bitter sense of resolution, but at least it meant some peace and quiet. the watchtower was set directly above the main entrance gate to jackson, a closed off wooden structure with stairs leading to the inside and an outer catwalk circulating it.

sometimes, the town could get on your nerves with how full of life and bustling it seemed to be; but you wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world. that sort of thing was a hidden oasis in a world like this, almost too good to be true, and you knew you were lucky to be part of it, even if it meant never ending guard duties at the early hours of morning, when the sun still wouldn’t be out for quite some time.

you sighed again.

“if you sigh one more time,” joel muttered in a monotonous voice, “i swear, i’m gonna throw you outta this window.”

ᥫ᭡ too early, too cold

early mornings are always slow, specially during winter.

█████████▒ 90%

𖥔 ˑ ִ ֗ ִ BELLAMY BLAKE

ᥫ᭡ sub rosa

it’s easy to think that you’re swimming in the sky. floating with the stars, weaving between them, part of the sky, the way you always dreamed you could be.

or, a clarke griffin!twin, bellamy blake x reader rewrite for the 100. complete.

ᥫ᭡ in this new light

slow, soft and sleepy morning sex.

ᥫ᭡ pretty fixation, wicked temptation

you and bellamy had spent a one-hundred-and-twenty-five years in cryosleep. a century of not touching each other catches up to both of you but finding somewhere to satiate your urges undisturbed is quite difficult. maybe a new planet will be just the place. but first, what’s a little challenge to heighten the tension?

██████████ 100%

A C C E S S G R A N T E D. . .

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reeseelise · 1 year ago

Note

ewan in the saltburn trailer is j sooo giving private school filthy rich aemond i love it

AND YES HE NEEDS HIS POC GF

I have been feeling…. less than inspired lately about hotd tbh but hopefully this will spark something. I know no one asked for this lol. This was inspired by Beyoncé’s Upgrade U. Honestly, I don't think Aemond would be much of a loser in a modern setting. He would be far too elusive and people would find him interesting simply based on that. But I am combining/changing some lore here so he is a #loser in this like I am assuming Ewan's character is Saltburn is.

Upgrade You

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x rich!reader (wc: 2k)

Summary: You have always enjoyed having a project to build or fix up and Aemond Targaryen is no different

You flick a spoolie brush over your brows as you finished up your makeup. The lights from your vanity mirror illuminating you as you put the last touches on your face.

"I don't get it," Melanie sighed as she hugged one of your pillows to her chest. She sat crossed legged on your California king bed. "You're like the smartest person I know. Why do you need to be tutored?"

"Everyone can improve themselves, no matter what someone's specialty may be. Remember that."

Melanie nodded enthusiastically. Sweet girl, you think. A little daft at times but nothing some time under your guidance cannot fix.

She tilts her head curiously. "You are pretty dressed up for a library meeting too."

"Another lesson," you fluff your curls then turn from the mirror to her. "Do not let anyone tell you that you are overdressed. Does the library have a dress code?"

Melanie shakes her head slowly.

"So, who is going to tell me to change?"

"... No one?"

"Exactly."

Melanie chews on her lip in thought as if she is taking mental notes in her head. Though she is not wrong you are quite dressed up just to be studying. But your advice was also not wrong; any moment to be noticed should be taken and made the most of. If are to come into contact with any of your peers, why not make the best impression possible. You also do not have in it in you to tell your new pupil about the real reason as to why you were making this little trip. Best move through life with your cards close to your chest as your mother tells you. You can only imagine how wide Melanie's hazel eyes would get if you told her what you had up your sleeve.

Much like how you help the girls around you cultivate their futures, you must look out for your own as well. Your phone dings, and you smile when you check the notification.

Aemond Targaryen.

Archaic, some would say. Sending the feminist movement back 50 years, many could argue. Being realistic is more how you would put it. You have money, sure. Your parents have afforded you all the opportunities they wanted you to have, and for that you are grateful. But you are not naive; this is still very much a man's world. No matter how much money you have, there will be people who will look at you and hate you for having the gall to want more. For having ideas and wanting to express them. For looking the way, you do - for using the way you look against them.

You may not be able to have a seat at the table... but you can have someone build another for you.

Your family may have resources and money. But they do not have 'my father can use company family buy his way into politics; my mom has ancestry that traces back to French royalty' reach.

Luckily for you, there is someone who does have that access.

A little rough around the edges, but nothing some TLC cannot fix. It was one of your best traits: finding the diamonds in the rough and polishing them off so they shine brighter than before.

You go over to your closet and open the double doors. As your eyes search over the different handbags, you call out back to Melanie.

"Watercolor Dior saddle or creme Bottega Jodie?"

"Dior," she calls back.

You check yourself in the mirror before existing the closet.

"Well," you twirl for Melanie. You run hand over your midi turtleneck dress. You knee length boots clanked around as you moved in a circle.

"Perfect," she beams.

She sees you out to your car. With the window rolled down, she waves you off like a mother seeing their child off for kindergarten.

"Happy studying!"

Sweet and simple, just how you like em.

———

You always thought the best thing about Oxford was how it looked in the fall. The leaves begun to change, sprite green to a blend of red, orange, purple, and brown. Made the most picturesque background. But it seemed like how gently the leaves fell from the trees was the only thing that was coming easily.

Maybe it was naivety on your part, but you thought when you showed up in four-inch patent leather Aquazzura heels and literally no books, Aemond would have got the hint. And yet, here you were talking about the components of stockholder’s equity, as if you cared.

"So," you interrupt him mid rant. "Any fun plans for Winter break? I know it is a while away, but everyone is already taking about what they are doing."

He wrinkles his nose, his glasses being pushes up in the process. "Probably just dinner with the family."

Right. The compound. At least that is what the Targaryen main home looks like. You of course needed to your research.

"Well, there is this crazy Christmas that happens before everyone leaves," you shuffle closer to him, and you hope he gets a whiff of your perfume. "Maybe we can go together?"

Aemond snorts and looks down bit sheepishly. "Highly doubt, I am invited."

You fight the urge to sigh wistfully. Cute, smart, wealthy as fuck... and apparently awfully insecure. Everyone throwing the party should be falling at their knees to have him around. But you have since understood during your time at Oxford that many students here do not understand the opportunities in front of them.

If Aemond had any real confidence, he'd say fuck it because he could buy everyone going if he wanted to. They ignore him because he allows them to. And then you realize he is one of those people; the delusional 'I want to get by on my merit not my name' kind of people.

Oh sweet, silly boy.

"That doesn't matter," you wave him off. "Besides, if anyone says anything, you can just say you're with me. Consider it a thank you for doing this for me."

You let your hand slip on his thigh and squeeze slightly.

"Better yet, let's call it a date."

Rhaenyra would think for the amount of money her family has; they would be able to afford stronger liquor. But she has a feeling that it has nothing to do with money, and more about the 'champagne only' rule Alicent liked.

The expansive backyard was decorated impeccably, as it always is for the annual holiday party that they throw. Twinkly lights in the trees, red and green everywhere, and even a frankly nouveau riche ice sculpture. The affair was black tie, and Rhaenyra could feel the eyes of some guess when she showed up in a red fitted suit. Taking small sips from her glass, she looks around the area. She swears the more years go on, the less she recognizes who is invited to things like this.

"Don't tell me step-mommy has put you in timeout."

She rolls her eyes when she hears a familiar voice. Daemon comes to stand next to her, with a small glass in his hand.

"No, you fucker," Rhaenyra then frowns. "Where did you get the scotch?"

"Why do you think I am in timeout?"

Her uncle always found a way around the rules. Rhaenyra blows air out of her cheeks in annoyance. She looks down at her watch; another rule is that they were required to stay at 2 hours. Only 45 minutes has passed since she arrived.

"Heard you are going to the company retreat this year," Daemon downs the rest of the drink and winces at the burning.

"Someone has to represent the family with dad," she shrugs, a small amount of smugness seeping into her tone. "He asked me to go."

"Hmmm," Daemon smirks at her smugness. "You and Aemond."

Rhaenyra blinks confused. "What?"

"Yup," he leans against the wall. "I suppose Viserys found a new muse."

Rhaenyra snorts at his words but then licks her lips nervously. It sounds cruel to think, but it was never something she ever really worried about - her father preferring her siblings over her. At least not something she worried about in her adulthood. Sure, as a girl, newly off the passing of her mother, seeing her father marry a woman only six years her senior rattled her. Aegon being born shortly after only made things more tense. But, and to his own detriment really, Viserys had made sure she came first.

"I did not know Aemond had an interest in the company in the first place."

"He didn't," Daemon's mouth pinches a little. "Not until... recently."

Rhaenyra follows her uncle's gaze out to where Aemond was standing. He always managed to look more grow up than his sibling, more than Helaena and Aegon. A mimicry that Rhaenyra thinks he picked up from his mother, but something seemed different now.

New haircut, no glasses, new suit. Armani? No, Tom Ford. With a Cartier tie clip and sparking cuff links to match. He is surrounded by some of the lawyers that work at the company.

"Looks like university has done him well," Rhaenyra tries to sound as even keeled as possible. "Good for him."

"No," Daemon sounds bored with her strained pleasantries. "That is what pussy does someone who has never got any before."

Rhaenyra blanches. The last thing she wants to think about is her younger brother having sex. She sets her champagne down in disgust.

"Don't be gross."

Daemon huffs before directing his attention towards the other side of the courtyard. His eyes zero in on Alicent, who tosses her auburn hair over her shoulder as she laughs with a young woman. A pretty young woman.

"Only met this semester and managed to get a holiday party invite, and a seat next to mother dearest. She must some charmer."

"You know," Rhaenyra starts. "Not every woman that is around this family is some sort of ruthless social climber."

"Of course, not every woman. Only the smart ones."

She sighs. Rhaenyra that was not just pointed at the girl, but at Alicent too. Even though Alicent grew up with an even cushier life than they did. A type of old money that even the Targaryens had to give credence to. Strangely enough, Daemon seemed to take Viserys remarrying worse than Rhaenyra did. Even Rhaenyra over the years has grown to accept the fate that is their blended family. Accepted it enough to be cordial, albeit sometimes still awkward, with Alicent. They have forever been bonded in having to deal with the moods that come with Viserys Targaryen. But Daemon... it seems like he has never forgiven his brother for the act of moving on. He seemed to only grow more jaded since the divorce from Laena.

"How do you even know this?"

"Aemond told Aegon who told Helaena who told Rhaena who told Baela who told me."

Rhaenyra breaks her gaze from the two women. "Keeping tabs on your nephew that you barely speak to?"

Daemon gave her an empty smile. Almost a little cruel like he would crush her like a bug if it would not so pitiful. "You naive little thing. When you figure things out, let me know."

Rhaenyra wants to ask him what he means by that, but Daemon pushes himself off the wall he was leaning against to leave Rhaenyra alone.

Alone was a feeling she was used to. Rhaenyra often found solace in the loneliness that she found herself stuck in. If she did not find comfort in it, it would swallow her whole. Jaw unhinged and bloodthirsty.

Her eyes went back to the where Alicent and the girl were sitting, but Helaena seemed to replace the girl's place to speak with her mother. Instead of getting chummy with Alicent, the mystery woman had gone over to Aemond. Rhaenyra felt a little queasy watching them. Like watching two little dolls or those silly little cake toppers people get. Picture perfect like the stock photos that came in picture frames.

She shook her head at herself with an internal laugh. Here she was picking apart her baby brother's seemingly first real relationship; she was no better than Daemon if she did that. It was she told herself when she watched one of the wives of the company's lawyers come up to the girl and give her kiss on the cheek. Like they were old family friends.

Rhaenyra suddenly finds herself straightening out her jacket and her heels moving across the outdoor area. Might as well introduce herself... as a kind sister figure, of course.

She has a funny feeling she will be seeing this girl around more often.

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reeseelise · 1 year ago

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i love being feed crumbs

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reeseelise · 1 year ago

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— It's complicated

Groomsman!Aemond x Bridesmaid!Reader

Rating: Explicit. +18 Reader is a Tyrell. Enemies to lovers.

Summary: You are immensely happy for your friend's wedding. Everything is perfect, as you both always imagined. There's just one detail: your companion for the ceremony is the person you hate most in life.

~English is not my first language.

From your seat, you watched as Baela gently covered her lips with her fingers after Jace whispered something in her ear. A bright and sincere smile. It was, in some way, different from all the others she distributed around, it was the type of smile that was unique and exclusively intended for him.

You sighed softly as you recognized the action for what it was. Love.

"They're terribly domesticated. It makes me sick."

You rolled your eyes and huffed before turning to glare coldly at the source of the comment, not surprised that the man had found a way to get closer. At least he had enough decency to keep his voice down.

"Do you always have to be so rude?" You hissed.

With a slurred, bored speech, he responds. "Only the best for you, princess."

You blinked at him.

God, you hated him.

"You're really trying too hard to be obnoxious here, aren't you?"

Aemond Targaryen was a snobbish high-class heir, which meant he was obviously well educated in every literal sense of the word. But for some reason, whenever he was around you, he made an absolute point of being the worst scum in the universe.

He raised a blonde eyebrow at you. "I don't understand what you're talking about."

You huffed in response and settled into your seat better. The laughter around the table during the rehearsal dinner filled the room with joy, but a gray cloud hung over the two of you.

“You’re so…” you gritted your teeth, taking a sip of your champagne.

Aemond Targaryen is possibly your least liked person in the universe. He is a grumpy and arrogant little thing and never thinks before making a comment that has the potential to completely destroy a person's emotions. You always tried to stay away from him at school, even though some days the Harvard campus didn't seem big enough for the both of you. With his charming smile and his penchant for reading, he was practically the poster boy for Harvard Law - complete with countless hours spent in the library studying, researching and incessantly clicking his pen in an irritating manner.

You passed each other in that building much more often than you would like to admit, and every time he smiled at you with that air of arrogance, and you pretended that you were completely indifferent to his existence.

You both almost never spoke to each other.

Until you found out that – of course – he's Jace's family – or something (honestly the Targaryens/Velaryons were known for their inbreeding confusion.)

Sweet Jace, who is smart and kind - and loves his fiancee and your best friend more than anything - has a relative who is the exact opposite.

At least that's what you think. Your conversations with Aemond have been purposely limited over the years. Not for lack of trying, of course. The man seemed to search for you around campus with the aim of disturbing you at every opportunity.

Despite your reservations about Aemond, this was your best friend's wedding. The long-awaited day, the realization of something you two have talked about for years. You couldn't let anything get in the way of that.

It was the only reason you didn't lose complete control when you found out Aemond was going to be Jace's groomsman. Just thinking about walking down the aisle with him tomorrow makes your stomach turn.

You felt a bubble of frustration that was common when faced with an advanced calculus problem or some set of laws and regulations that you couldn't easily understand.

The only problem was that Aemond was your unsolved problem and there was nothing you despised more than not understanding something.

“Aren’t you going to finish that sentence, Y/N?”

When you hear your name you turn your head until you look at him and Aemond's gaze is already on you, as if he had been looking at you the whole time. He looks you over from head to toe, slowly, that crooked smile digging deeper into his cheeks as he observes your silence.

It physically pained you to admit how handsome this man was. Especially in the romantic candle lighting along the table. Black formal clothing with the shirt sleeves rolled up to the elbows. That long silver hair tied into a bun and the mysterious eye patch.

You have to try hard not to blush.

“You know...” he says in a way that makes your head spin. "It's really great to see you again."

“Targaryen,” You cut him off with your best cruel smile plastered on your face.

You don’t say it’s good to see him again either – and you know he notices.

“You’re not going to ruin this for them,” you tell him with murder in your eyes. "You understand me?"

Aemond arches his eyebrow, looks at the groomsman and bridesmaid sitting in front of you two and then looks back at you. “Ruin what?”

“The wedding, you idiot,” you say, rolling your eyes. “I won’t let you ruin this day for them.”

He sighs and looks away, taking his sweet time to sip his drink, but eventually turns to face you once more. “What makes you think I’m trying to ruin my nephew’s wedding?”

“I don’t think you’re trying to do anything, not on purpose,” you sneer at him as you pretend to appreciate your well-manicured nails, “but somehow you’ll manage.”

"No, I won't."

“Yes, you will,” you shoot him a sharp look. “It is in your nature incredibly unpleasant. I don’t know how, I don’t know when, and there’s usually no reason, but you’re going to do something stupid and I’m the one who’s going to have to clean up the mess.”

Someone says something at the table and everyone applauds and raises their glasses in agreement, making you both blink and clap in a generic and non-infectious way, even if you have no idea what the man had said.

“Can you stop being a spiteful bitch for two days? I already said I'm going to behave...” he says amidst the noise at the table, as if that would help in some way.

“Yes, and that usually works out well for you,” you murmur.

"What the hell does that mean?"

The couple in front of you is trying very hard to give the two of you some illusion of privacy, pretending they can't hear anything. You roll your eyes at them before looking at Aemond.

“You listen to me,” you begin with fury in your words, your index finger poking him hard in the chest. Aemond looks at your finger with a narrowed eye and slowly moves up to your eyes once more, something dark flashing quickly in his blue gaze. You swallow the uncomfortable lump the action gives you and continue. “This place is perfect, her dress is more than perfect and the man she is marrying is…well, he is as perfect for her as a man can be.”

Aemond crosses his arms over his chest to prevent you from poking him any longer.

“My best friend is getting married tomorrow,” you say, as if he doesn’t already know this, “and I’m going to make sure she has a perfect day. Ok? There will be laughter, dancing, and probably some teary eyes when Jace reads his votes, and everything will go off without a hitch. We are. Understood?”

Aemond opens his mouth to counterattack, but something stops him. Instead, he closes his mouth and his face softens almost imperceptibly, a dangerous, feline expression taking over, causing an uncomfortable sink in your stomach.

"Perfectly." He says easily, a devilish grin forming on his face.

You don't like the way that look turns your entire body red.

Aemond rises from his seat with the grace of a victorian prince and bids you farewell with a cheeky wink - you don't know how someone with one eye can do it in such a killer way. The couple in front starts to laugh softly at your teasing words to each other and you sigh, massaging your temples. You have a feeling that the headache that's starting to form behind your eyes is going to last a while.

“I will kill him before this wedding happens, I swear.” You mutter to yourself, grabbing another glass of champagne from the tray as soon as the waiter passes by.

You suppress the shiver that runs through you at the thought of trying to get Aemond to stop being an idiot for more than three minutes straight to make him understand what is expected of him in a ceremony like this. Then you suppress an even stronger wave of discomfort at the mere thought of walking in arm in arm with him – it feels like a nightmare.

"Alright!" you ignore the thoughts and clap loudly to get everyone's attention, Aemond clicking his tongue beside you. “Let’s go over this just one more time and then we’ll be ready…”

In fact, what followed was two more complicated attempts before everyone got the timing and placement right, and then two more successful attempts for you to start letting your guard down a little - focusing on yourself and trusting the rest of the party and the wedding organizers to understand each other.

You watch Helaena and Alys settle in line, escorted by two groomsmen whose names you don't remember. Beside you, Aemond was ready to walk you down the aisle, for what seemed like the thousandth time this afternoon, your small hand hidden in the crook of his arm.

His scent reminds you of rainy days, mint and books.

You don't know why you're thinking about this.

You were brought out of your thoughts by the feeling of his gaze on you, and when you looked up at him with a smart comment on the tip of your tongue, you were surprised to see how openly he was staring. You raise an eyebrow and he just sighs a subtle laugh, not at all embarrassed about being caught.

“Has anyone here ever told you how good this color looks on you? I would have said something sooner, you know, if you weren't being such a bossy bitch every two seconds...” he said in a teasing whisper, even though no one was paying attention to the two of you.

You swallow slowly, the strange mix of compliment and insult washing down your body with the weight of a tsunami.

Yes, you looked beautiful, and you knew it.

You wished you could return the compliment, because god, Aemond looked breathtaking too.

Tall and strong, his damn athlete body was being perfectly hugged by a black suit, obviously made and fitted specifically for him - sinfully highlighting every muscle. Underneath his suit, he wore a simple white dress shirt and a tie the same color as your dress. His silver hair tonight fell in silky streams over his broad shoulders and, of course, the eye patch completed the fatal look. His head was proudly held high and his confident and haughty expression didn't waver for a second, knowing exactly the kind of image he gave to people.

He was like fucking silver Bruce Wayne.

He looked like a masterpiece, an unreachable deity or a hot character from a fanfic; the type of character that comes with a sign attached to him that says 'DANGER'.

You wanted to compliment him, you really did.

But you didn't.

"Thanks...I guess." You whisper back after a few seconds of silence, running your free hand over the delicate fabric hanging over your thighs, "It's a beautiful dress, really. Baela chose it very well."

His enigmatic smile grows a few millimeters.

“Of course she did, but I think much of its beauty is due to the woman who wears it.”

Something warm runs through your body and you stare at him with your lips parted, your fingers on his arm tightens for a moment in a surprised grip. The cue for the official entrance of the groomsmen and bridesmaids came before you could think any more about his strange speech.

"Whatever little game you're planning, Targaryen, I want no part of it."

You say through your teeth as the music plays quietly, distantly - and although everything was absurdly gorgeous, you couldn't help but mentally wander for a brief moment, as you entered the partially decorated space, about how different your own choices would be if this were the your marriage.

How you would replace the blue and silver details chosen by Baela with nudes and rosé, maybe even some golden tones here and there, and how you would prefer a more natural location like the beach, instead of your friend's modern preference. Things you never thought about, never imagined you wanted, but now your mind couldn't stop projecting.

You walked slowly to the music, your mind wandering far beyond your control, in the silent realization that these thoughts about possible marriage didn't fill you with dread like they normally did.

"As much as it may surprise you, Tyrell," he emphasized your last name as you did with his, "there's no game here other than yours."

Aemond pulled her out of your thoughts once again, muttering nonsense in riddles as always. You sighed in exasperation and narrowed your eyes, but immediately relaxed your face when you remembered that there was a photographer recording every second of everything here. The last thing you wanted was a physical reminder of this moment.

"What the hell are you talking about now? I'm not playing anything...and certainly never with you."

By some divine miracle your words silence him and you could feel him tense to your side, but when you look up to get a better view at his expression he seems as indifferent as ever.

It was harder than it should have been to ignore the sight of Aemond, obviously bothered by what you said, as the two of you arrived near the aisler and sat in your respective seats. And when he doesn't say anything else to you throughout the ceremony you repeat to yourself that you should be grateful, but the feeling that you said something you shouldn't have doesn't leave your mind.

You might just be going crazy.

But the wedding is beautiful, beautiful enough that you eventually get distracted and almost forget that Aemond is still frowning at your side. The weather is beautiful and just the right temperature for guests to feel comfortable in their chairs. The lights hanging from strings on the ceiling create a purposefully romantic and relaxing environment.

Baela is an absolute vision as she walks down the hallway and Jace is already crying, the big idiot. You can't blame him since you also feels a little whiny.

You look from beneath your lashes at Aemond. It almost hurts to look at him, he's so beautiful, but you've almost gotten used to the feeling at this point.

He doesn't seem at all emotional by the ceremony, and anyone would tell by his bored and grumpy expression that the man is there completely forced. You huff and turn away, deciding to ignore him and just focus on how happy you are for your two friends.

Aemond Targaryen certainly shouldn't be the center of your attention this night.

And on any night, by the way.

The dance floor is packed with couples. Around the dance floor were groups of peers chatting excitedly and occasionally laughing uproariously. The bride and groom had disappeared - and it was no mystery why, not with the way their hands and lips consumed each other minutes before their disappearance.

You had already had a few glasses of champagne and a few shots of a sweet drink that had quickly gone to your head and you felt a bit like jelly at the moment; light and malleable. Maybe that's why you're jumping and dancing like there's no tomorrow.

The bass dropped into a devilishly sexual beat and you smiled as you felt your hips begin to undulate almost immediately. You and Margaery stare at each other as you dance, both of you almost screaming in excitement at the music. A man approaches her from behind and after a wink from you indicating that it's okay, she begins to rub her hips against him.

You shake your hair as you raise your hands in the air, lowering your hips. Your cousin now completely leaning towards the man.

You didn't care and continued dancing alone, your eyes closed as you twirled to the resonant music.

You're pleasantly dizzy, enough to let any traces of insecurity slip through your fingers as you drag your own thighs, your hips, your waist. Your fingers brush the outer curve of your breasts as your hands rise above your head again, twisting in a sensual dance.

It's as if the music has penetrated your soul. It's the way the beat travels up your body and into your head. People disappear from your sight, and all you feel is the way their hips swivel, hair falling across rosy cheeks. A smile appears on your lips and you feel like a different person, the music and the alcohol in your system taking over everything.

You feel his presence before you physically feel him, something dark and dangerous but not unwelcome, right against your back. You normally reject men when they want to dance with you, but something on this particular night made you press yourself against the stranger, grinding your hips against his without a hint of regret. Maybe Aemond's appearance affected you more than you admitted, the heat seemed to course through your veins like syrup. If he was looking (and you hope he is) maybe he would see you and notice the attention you are getting and recognize you as a woman with feelings rather than a verbal punching bag. With that thought you moved even closer to the solid body behind you, grinding against him, your smaller hands resting on top of the hands that greedily held your hips. The large hands, with perfectly long fingers, decorated with five silver rings.

Wait...

You weren't so drunk.

They were Aemond's hands.

You should have stopped then. Your natural instinct was to freeze, move away, maybe start a debate about decency and perversion or hit him with a hard right hook. But his hands guided you, pulling you against him in time to the music, gently gripping the soft silk of your dress around your waist, his fingertips sinking into the softness of your skin. It was wrong, but it felt powerful. You leaned into him even more, your head falling back onto his shoulder but still keeping your eyes tightly closed. Maybe you could dismiss this as a purely alcohol-induced action buzzing around in your mind, in case any of your friends questioned it. Maybe the dance floor was too dark and they were too drunk to notice.

“Y/N,” he growls in your ear, and you know there’s no point in pretending now. You froze and waited for him to continue, but Aemond said nothing, just brought you impossibly closer. You gasped, being able to feel every inch of him now, every muscle in his chest and thighs as they moved synchronously against you. Everything about him seemed big, surrounding you, closing you off from everyone around you. You squirm against him shamelessly, eyes still closed as if it somehow absolves you of the stupid decision you were making here.

He may be willing to recognize you, but you don't owe him the same respect.

You don't owe Aemond Targaryen anything.

The devil on your shoulder consumes you and prompts you into the next bold move.

You bend in half, delicate fingers gripping your slender ankles as you push against him once slowly. His resulting groan made you shudder, slowly travel through your body and seep into the deepest part of your slightly questionable mind. Aemond presses a firm hand against your back, his hips rotating against your ass in a simple imitation of something normally done without any clothes on. He pulls your hips, bringing you back to him. A large hand slides down the expanse of your stomach, up over the cleavage between your breasts and down to your heaving throat. He stands there with intent, fingertips giving a test squeeze and you gasp.

God.

What were you getting yourself into?

What the fuck were you doing?

This was practically public sex!

Suddenly you were being pulled across the crowded room, awkwardly bumping into other dancers as Aemond leads you across the floor towards a dark corner of the place, a sort of alcove between the bathrooms and the kitchen. Your back is against the wall before you even realize what you had allowed to happen.

Insane. This was complete insanity.

His hands are pulling the fabric of your dress up, and his firm thigh immediately presses between your legs. You stutter.

"Targaryen, what the fuck-"

“What, Tyrell,” he drawls, the eye patch so close to you like this is somehow both foreboding and sinfully sexy. He no longer wears the suit top, just pants and a dress shirt folded at the elbows, but his figure is still as intimidating as before. “Not in the mood to dance away from the crowd?” You stand on your tiptoes, trying to escape the pressure of his leg against your core.

“B-but that’s not dancing!” You raise your hands in an attempt to push him away, but somehow they land without any successful leverage on his chest.

Talk about brain fog.

“Oh, but I think it might be,” Aemond murmurs, finding your hips again with those large hands, bringing you against his thigh in a slow glide. You whimper. The expensive material of his pants was pressed indecently against the cotton crotch of your panties and you had to bite your lip to keep from moaning at the contact.

This was wrong. This was so, so, so wrong.

"G-god, I thought...that doesn't make any sense, you hate me and I-..."

His teeth close on the junction of your neck and shoulder to shut you up as his fingers curl possessively around your breast through your dress.

"Christ, Tyrell, you're so difficult sometimes." he said, groaning into your skin. "Tell me..mmh...can you feel me here?" He asks, voice deep, low and sensual as you unconsciously rock your hips into his thigh, a large hand tugging yours until you find his cock protruding stiffly through his pants. You gasp loudly, small, trembling fingers feeling the long, thick cock that threatens to tear the seams of his pants.

"Can you feel how hard I am for you, princess? Is this the reaction of a man who hates you?" He asks again, pushing his hips against your hand for more contact. At the tone of his voice and the overwhelming feelings in your body, you can't help but melt a little. He lowers his head with a groan, “Fuck, baby, you have no idea what you do to me, do you?”

You just continue to look at him in confusion, eyes wide and genuine. You are stunned for a moment. It's not an exaggeration to say that you have no idea what effect you have on him, that you have no idea how much Aemond wants to fuck you against the wall. It's stupidly endearing the way he just throws it in your face like it's obvious even after all the time you've spent at each other's throats, but it's also ridiculously annoying in the moment.

"You know, baby, despite everything you think you know," Aemond lets out a tired sigh before releasing your hips to grab your chin, "you really are a stupid little slut sometimes."

You open your mouth in protest, but your words die in your throat as he kisses you. Any hesitation you had shown previously dissolves within seconds, your body arching into Aemond, betraying your desire for more. He keeps his grip on your chin, tilting your head up as he pushes his tongue past your lips and into the wet heat of your mouth. A soft moan comes out at the intrusion, but it only stimulates Aemond, your arousal intensifying as he thrusts against you. When he finally releases your mouth, there's a glistening thread of saliva that connects you both, keeping you tied together for a moment before breaking with his smile.

“If you're going to act like an indifferent slut, I'm going to make sure to treat you like one,” he tells you, his grip on your hair tightening now, your heart racing in the sea of confusion and excitement - god, you had drunk so much like this? - Your head hangs at his pull, allowing him to position you however he wants. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

You can barely shake your head, still held by Aemond’s fist in your hair. “Aemond, I-I’m not...” you argue weakly.

He ignores you, knowing that the fighting words are nothing more than idle talk now. His blue gaze drops back to your clothed breast. It's too much of a tease for him, apparently, and soon he opens it himself, pulling the cleavage to the sides, allowing your breasts to spread freely.

There's no bra, there's just your breasts, soft skin, and pink nipples swimming in his view.

Aemond growls.

Without warning, he lowers his head to wrap his mouth around a nipple, his tongue reaching out to touch the sensitive nub. You cry out, hands flying to Aemond's shoulders as he steadies his own hands on your hips, pulling and pushing you onto his hard thigh. You feel hypersensitive, and Aemond makes the most of that knowledge as he sucks on your breasts, kissing and biting his marks on the once-perfect skin there. You can feel yourself harden under his warm, experienced tongue, the sensations amplified by the pitiful moans you let out as he has his way with you.

"Do you have any idea how many men thought about doing the same thing to you tonight?" He murmurs and smiles into the curve of your breast, satisfaction rolling off him in waves as he knows he is the one who has truly achieved the goal. It's him who's making you squirm and moan, it's him and his alone, it's him who grabs your other nipple inside his hot lips, ripping another scream from your throat.

“Aemond, please,” you beg, “it’s too much.” Your grip on his shoulders tightens in warning, manicured nails digging into his skin even through the layer of his clothing.

He lifts his head to look at you, smiling at the narrowed look you give him. You blush even more, because you know you already look positively destroyed, skin and lips red, breasts rising and falling in time with your breathing, eyes watery.

Without any warning you meet for another kiss when he extends his left hand, his fingers sliding through the fabric of your dress until he reaches the hem, right in the middle of your thighs.

“Fuck,” he curses, his voice hoarse, and you hear the loose sound of his zipper undoing. Your eyes widen as he lifts your thigh onto his hip. His fingers gently twist against your pussy, and you feel him pull your panties to the side. The next moment, his cock is pressing against your entrance without even a 'do you care?'.

You do not care.

You moan, standing on the tip of your other foot, leaning in so he can slide into you, right there, in the dark of a hallway as a wedding party takes place a few feet away.

You want him to open you up, you want to feel every inch of him inside your pussy. You never thought you'd want this, but god, now you do and you're more than ready and -

"Ahh, fuck!" Your head tilts back and your mouth opens at the overwhelming sensation.

Okay, so there was no way anyone could be ready for everything Aemond had to offer, especially when he lifts you up a few inches and bottoms out inside you in a single stroke. His hand comes up and hits the wall above your head, his one eye closing tightly.

He was so hot, like really hot, inside you, and you gasp, your hips rocking in tiny, tense movements in an attempt to accommodate him better and deeper inside you.

“Y/N,” he growled. “Stop. Moving.”

Your eyes turn to his face and you whimper at the dark look that was there. The silver shine of his hair around his slightly flushed and sweaty face, his tense jaw and his drunken, hungry gaze.

You think you might be delusional about all this.

His hand on your hip hits your skin and you moan.

He pumps his cock inside you once, tentatively, and pleasure roared inside you. He smiles and begins to fuck you in earnest, pulling your other leg until you wrap both around his waist, all of your weight supported by his arms. You grab his hair near the back of his neck and he moans, but in retaliation his mouth lowers until he can bite your shoulder hard, eliciting moans from the back of your throat with every two half-full breaths.

“Aemond,” your lips are murmuring little kitten licks into the tense muscles of his neck, legs wrapped tightly around his hips. “Fuck, Aemond, you - oh God -”

He pauses and then holds your against his hard stomach for a second. Your back hits the wall again, and then he slides you up and down in his cock, filling you and the angle is so strange and different. You've never done this before, not like this, where all your weight is on his arms, and your ankles are locked together behind someone's body, holding him tight, like you're just enjoying the ride.

How he's doing this, you don't know, you don't care, because your back scrapes the wall and it's cold and a little sore, but it feels so good, and his gaze is on your breasts and you don't want it to ever end.

He is very strong.

“Baby,” he breathes, and you shudder and tighten your pussy around his cock just at the sound of his voice, the huskiness in his timbre - what amounts to a small hitch in his breathing, but his rhythm doesn’t falter. God, pelvic floor exercises would be so helpful right now, and you try, you try, wrapping yourself around him so he's sealed inside you. Mine, you think.

Wait -

What the fuck?

It was the damn alcohol's fault.

You're breathing together now, your head is tilted forward a little now, the disbelief and pure pleasure of what's happening makes you dizzy. His hands are on your hips and, god, you wish they were on your breasts, but that's good, you'll take that too.

“Aemond,” you pant, “yes, that's it, yes,” and his skin tastes good when you suck on his jaw and neck, your breasts are pressed against him with your curled up position and ache a little with arousal.

“— Yes —” he agrees, his breath panting against your hair. "Yes, girl, yes."

When you try to reach between the two of them to touch your swollen clit, he gently slaps your thigh.

“Be good, little one,” he said, “or I’ll drag you back there and let them all watch while I fuck you until you can’t even scream.”

"Oh God." His words light you up inside and you blush from the simple embarrassment of not being as offended by the idea as you should be. You whimper and squirm in his grip, until he has to push you with almost painful force against the wall, using his own body to pin you down. He's so big inside you and with each thrust he seems to push your hips harder and harder, demanding that your body take him and accept him, even when you're obviously swimming on the edge between perfect and more than you can handle.

"Fuck, that's the only way for you to shut your damn mouth for more than ten seconds, isn't it?A needy slut as hell..." Aemond growls and smiles at the same time, lifting you closer to him, the smell of his cologne, the smoke from his cigarettes and mint is overpowering in the best way, the brush of the expensive fabric of his pants irritating your thighs.

"Mhh! N-no, I don't! No..ah..." as if your face wasn't already red, becoming even redder, embarrassment taking over as you wished you had never given in to anything before.

"Liar." He says in your ear. "How do I feel, baby?" he asks, leaning down to press his lips against your neck, where the love bites he gave earlier were starting to darken.

“Hn…I…” You whimper, a little out of it as his hips slam even harder against yours. There's a sudden surge of pleasure overwhelming you every time he moves, not satisfying enough and only teasing you. It brings you closer and closer, but stops before you reach your peak, turning you into a sobbing mess against him.

More. More. More.

You don't have enough, even though you feel beyond full with him inside you.

"I asked you...a question." Aemond repeats, holding you open and pulling himself out to let his length dangle between the two of you before sliding between your folds up and down over your swollen nub as you visibly tremble, emptiness taking over as you whimper again.

"Say it, princess. Tell me you like my cock inside you..." He teases you, sliding himself over your clit and barely teasing your entrance again as he watches your legs threaten to close, holding them wide open and refusing himself to let you get more.

Fuck, you wanted to cum so bad you didn’t mind begging, not now, your breathless sobs echoing through the hallway. You didn't care how desperate you looked, grinding against him like a cat in heat, needing friction on your clit to cum.

"P-please, Aemond. Please fuck me, I need it, please, I love your cock inside me, please -" You never thought you would let a man ruin you and make you so wild that you you would literally beg him to fuck you, but here you were. Desperate, needy, dripping and begging for him to totally destroy your insides.

He grabs your hair near the back of your neck and pushes your face up until his mouth is on yours, teeth biting your bottom lip as his tongue soothes the sting in sensual strokes. You're about to beg again when he grips your hips tighter and slides his hard cock into you, once again not giving you time to adjust before setting a brutal pace. The sounds of him pounding into you, your broken moans against his lips and his grunts fill the room and mix with the loud beat of the music in an award show-worthy cacophony.

He leans over you and sighs in your ear, still pulling your head by your hair: “Look at this tight pussy, swallowing my whole cock. You are taking this so well. Damn, baby, are you still sure you hate me?” He groans and you shake your head, too deep in your own arousal to care about things like dignity.

Faster! You need it faster!

He's being so rude that you're sure he's going to hurt you and leave you walking funny tomorrow. But this is what you signed up for. You get the memo and meet his hard thrusts with your hips, whimpering with each one.

"Good girl, fuck, so good, fuck yourself back on my cock just like that..."

You feel like you are going crazy. Aemond, in turn, seems to sense that you're on edge because he keeps whispering in your ear.

“You're so tight around me, so soaked. Can you hear how wet you are?" Fuck, yes, you can. You want to scream that you can definitely hear the lewd noises your own body is making. But he continues. “Squeezing me so tight, like a damn vice. Oh, there's a damn reason I've wanted you all this time. Watching you these years, but all along I knew...I knew you would be mine sooner or later. That tight pussy, that delicious little mouth. You can't keep that mouth shut and follow the rules, and I swear it's because you love how crazy I go with your every word..."

He's babbling now, saying things you only partially understand as he fucks you faster and faster, his own rhythm faltering and going into an erratic mode.

“Aemond!” You beg, trying to arch your body, to get anything, to get everything you need.

“Come on, princess, cum on my cock, I need you to cum now…” He cups your mound, spreading his fingers over where his cock was inside you. His fingers brush once, twice over your clit and you scream, vision fading as you come so hard your head hits the wall.

Aemond is there in an instant, his hand holding the back of your head almost lovingly, his hips thrusting further as he cums deep inside you with a grunt, thick white cum spilling from the tip and pooling on your quivering walls.

Even after you both finished your orgasms, his hands remained there, keeping you locked to him in an oddly comfortable grip.

You tried to engrave in your mind what you were feeling right now – your heart was going crazy, your breathing was uneven, your whole body was hot and tingly, your limbs tired and heavy.

You felt the other presence hover over you and, with great effort, you let reality slowly infiltrate your mind.

You and Aemond had fucked.

You and...

Aemond.

AEMOND?

"Oh. Shit." You gasp, blinking wide-eyed at Aemond like you've never seen him before.

He just shrugs his shoulders at his despair.

"I bet you're mortified now thinking about the way you begged me to fuck you...or the face you made when you cum because of me...god, I really should have taken a picture." He adds, without even the slightest level of pity for your catatonic state, the adrenaline and lust leaving your body until only an icy wave of embarrassment remains.

You blush and stutter, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.

Did you really let this little shit fuck you?

Suddenly you push him away with all the strength you can muster (which actually only makes him take two steps back), your gaze narrowed evil at him as he just smiles at your reaction, long fingers keeping his cock inside his pants again.

You swallow the humiliating feeling of emptiness for no longer having him inside you.

Standing in your heels after all this *cough, cough*...intense activity...proves to be a challenge, but you refuse to let him notice your struggle - even though your legs are still shaking beneath your dress.

You smooth your dress as best you can, cheeks burning, and throw your hair back in an irreverent move. "Don't think your stupid face looked any better, you idiot."

Aemond fixes his hair and smooths out the wrinkles on his shirt, places where your little fingers pressed and scratched.

Oh.

"I never denied anything, baby. We can't say the same about you." He pokes and you twist your lips. "Every word I said is true." His tone now lost any hint of humor.

You blinked. Your mind trying to bring back everything he had said...

'There's a damn reason I've wanted you all this time.'

'Watching you these years, but all along I knew...I knew you would be mine sooner or later.'

You shook your head and took a step forward, passing him towards the exit. "You are drunk." You said, avoiding eye contact. "M-me too, I guess."

He responded immediately. "Not so drunk."

“You told me you wanted me for years. If that’s not drunk enough for you…” You huffed, mocking him.

He frowned and pursed his lips, white hair whipping into the air at the way he abruptly turned towards you. Then narrowing his gaze, he followed you until he pushed your back against the wall. “Why are you so fucking difficult? Why can’t you just believe what I’m saying?” He asked.

You shook your head, but didn't know what to say. Then you just looked at him with a sarcastic expression on your face. "Are you being serious?"

"Yes, I am."

"You damn liar!" You accused him, wrinkling your nose.

He crossed his arms, everything in his facial expression screaming frustration.

“Stop calling me a liar.” He said.

“Then stop pretending like you know it’s not true.” You looked bitter.

He took a step closer, looking into your eyes. “I’ve known you for four years and not once have I lied to you.” He placed his hands beside your head, trapping your body with his arms. He noticed the way your eyes flickered as you assessed his actions. “If you or I were really drunk tonight, we wouldn’t have fucked, and you know it.” He pointed out the obvious.

You opened your lips to respond, but realized you didn't know what to say.

What did he want you to say?

The same man who has been at your throat for years, taking any and every opportunity to argue and upset you. And now he wants you to believe that he actually had feelings for you all this time?

Your life was a comedy, for sure.

But it wasn't a romantic comedy.

These things only happened in movies.

You shook your head and looked away.

Aemond sighed and walked away.

Neither of you said anything for what seemed like too long, only the loud sound of music and guests' laughter ringing around. Suddenly your heels became very interesting. Or maybe you just couldn't bear to see that strange expression on his face without wondering if it was mockery.

"Suite 305."

You blinked a few times before looking up at him.

"What?"

He stuffed his hands into his pants pockets, adjusting his body into that superb posture once again.

"That's where I am. Suite 305."

You breathe exasperatedly and cross your arms.

"Why the hell would that be my problem, Targaryen?"

He approaches slowly and you pretend your heart hasn't started racing again at that. He stops in front of you, staring at you until you shift uneasily, then his fingers grab your chin and pull your face towards his. If you weren't so intent on keeping your walls up, you might notice the tender, possessive way his hand curves over your cheek.

"Because that's where you're going once this party is over."

He whispers and gently kisses your lips. Just a little peck. Just a warm whisper in the air - you barely feel him there before he's pulling away.

Ok...

Have you ever met someone who drives you so crazy that you want to shut them up with your face?

You almost growl.

"Keep waiting, idiot. It will NOT happen again!" You scream as he heads back to the party, ignoring your outburst.

By god, there was a limit to how much a woman could beg for a man without it being humiliating and you had definitely already gone beyond that limit with Aemond.

There was no chance of it happening again.

Not even over your dead body.

“Excuse me, sir…” you get the receptionist’s attention. The boy looks at you intently from beneath the thick frames of his glasses and you almost groan sadly as you imagine what you looks like now. Feet barefoot, high heels held in one hand, the hem of your dress is completely filthy from dancing and dragging on the floor, your cheeks are red from the alcohol and what you're about to do...

"Yes, miss? How can I help you?" He ignores all of this, however. A big, very professional smile on his young face.

You bite your lip, a little uncertain.

You should not...

There was still time to walk away and pretend this never happened...

He would break your heart, wouldn't he?

You shouldn't jump without safety ropes.

You never do that.

You really should just go away and -

"Can you tell me where suite 305 is, please?"

...

Oh, you know what? Fuck it all this.

Tagging: @croatianprincess @delilah1990 @fan-goddess @hanihoney88 @supmymainhuman @navyblue-eternity @gothicxs @toodlesxcuddles @loving-enemy @ostricx @azperja @echos-muses @thedamewithabook @schniiipsel @snowprincesa1 @nezzlysixx @maximizedrhythms @maviee @ammo23 @dark-night-sky-99 @deeeeexx @hotdsworld @darylandbethfanforever9 @malfoytargaryen @qyoquixote @pick95 @moonxhunt @tired-ninfa @fcbformulaeri @daydreamy-me @vyctorya @lovelymoonkiid @babyblue711 @zondereleutheromania @diosademuerte @spookymicrowave @wintrr13 @namelesslosers @chainsawangel @beautbuck @arcielee @ratfromdeepspace @brianochka @greenowlfactif

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reeseelise · 1 year ago

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it just sucks because nothing is ever fucking made for you, and if it is made for you like 75% of the time it gets chopped into little pieces by every person alive because this is the one thing you have, so it has to prove itself to you.

like, a thing can't just be for women. men need to assign it to women. women have to experience "must" or "should" before their hobbies and passions - women are allowed to do silly, passive things like tuck our ankles and titter behind a fan, or something. women are allowed to, they are welcomed to. like the world is a house and we are supposed to be in the kitchen and now we are being given the divine right to enter the living room if we bring chips

because when it becomes for you, or about you, that is when the thing is vile. you should/must wear makeup so you can appear beautiful to men. once you wear makeup for yourself, or because you yourself enjoy putting it on, then you are no longer doing the right thing. there is a reason men hate certain fashion trends. there is a reason men hate things like the pumpkin spice latte - because it's not about them. you are buying it because it is good for you. they degrade your passions and interests. there is a reason women-led fields are largely seen as being "not a real" profession. when you are a good cook, that is because you can provide for him. close your eyes. you're not going to be a chef, be honest. that is a man making food for himself.

bras are made so breasts will be appealing to men. they are rarely about comfort or support. you have given up entirely on the idea of pockets. young girls have to worry about a shorter inseam on their shorts. a girl on instagram gets her septum pierced, and men in the comments are rabid about it - i just want to rip it out of her face. she'd be beautiful without it.

and fucking everything is for them. even the media that is "for you" is for them, eventually. remember "my little pony"? remember how hard it is to convince any executive to believe that little girls are worth selling to? in the media that is for you, you see little ways that you still need to make it accessible for them - the man is always powerful, smart, masculine. he is a man's man. the media usually forgives him. it usually says okay, some men are awful, but hey! gotta love 'em. because if you don't hold their hands and say "this is literally just a story about my lived reality", they shit their pants about it. they demand you put them into the media that's for you.

these are people who are so used to glutting themselves on the world. they are used to having every corner and every dollar and every place of leadership. so you say can i please have one slice of cake, just for myself, please, holy shit. and they fucking weep about it. they say you're being unfair, because some of their one-thousand-slices aren't beautiful, and your singular cake slice doesn't have their name on it. and aren't you being rude by not offering to share?

and honestly. fucking - yeah, man. you were kind of surprised, because the cake is a little basic (you bake at home, you're way past this stuff). but holy shit, it was nice just to be offered cake in the first place. you're used to having to starve. you're used to getting nothing, but going to the party anyway, because you're expected (professionally) to show up. you liked that it is a simple cake, and that it is warm, and mostly: you like that there is, for once, a cake-for-you.

in the real world, outside of metaphor, it feels like fucking being slapped. barbie didn't even say anything particularly unusual; it literally just made factually evident points. there are less women in leadership than men. we can look at that fact objectively. that is a real thing that is happening. and the movie is aware that it has to defend itself! that it has to spend like half an hour just turning to the camera and saying: i know this is hard for you to understand, but this is a real thing that women experience.

it's just - this is that one kid on the playground who thinks its allowed to hog all the toys. he builds this hoard that nobody else is allowed to even look at, or he'll get aggressive. everyone's a little scared of him, so they let it slide, because his daddy gave him the golden touch. he hates when people cry and thinks bullying is cool. he writes boys only! on a big sign and makes all his friends take "alpha male" classes.

and then girls pick up barbies, because there was nothing left for them. and in the void they've been given, with their scraps: they make long, spiraling narratives about how barbie is actually descended from snakes and has given her righteous followers magical (if concerning) powers and can speak 32 languages (2 of which are animal related) and has big plans for infrastructure (beginning with the local interstate). and the boy comes over, and he has a huge fit about how the girls aren't "including" him. he wants to know why the girls aren't making the story about ken.

"we didn't like your story." the girls blink at him. they point to his war stories and the gi joes and the millions of male-led narratives and how still in the modern day men get two-thirds of the speaking roles in movies and they point to men making mediocre shows that don't get lambasted and they point to men encouraging toxic masculinity and they point to men everywhere, men and men and men. and they say: "how is this our fault? you had ken."

"no!" he is already back to screaming and stomping his feet and tearing at his hair and intentionally reminding them that men are holding back thinly concealed violence and he says: "if it's not for me, it's actually sexism."

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reeseelise · 1 year ago

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Pomegranate Seeds

Summary- A retelling of the abduction of Persephone.

Warnings- MDNI 18+ NSFW. Female reader. Hades and Persephone AU. Star-crossed lovers vibes. Uncle/niece incest. Making out. Angst. Fluff. Titty sucking. Handjob. Cunnilingus. Vaginal fingering. Soft smut. Mild praise kink. Mildly OOC Aemond.

Author's Notes- Yeah I was a Percy Jackson/Greek mythology kid, thank you for noticing. I'm still playing incredibly fast and loose with the mythology tho so we're gonna have to make our peace with that. This is a beast btw, it's like 9.6K and you can find the rest on AO3 with the link below :)

divider created by @firefly-graphics

It is moments like these, she thinks, that she loves most.

Alone in the meadow, surrounded by wildflowers, the babbling of the creek as it flows over the rocks. Everything green with the exception of the purple, white, and yellow flowerheads but lush and everbearing and alive, the sun little more than a hazy warm glow, not yet hot enough to be overbearing. It is peaceful here, so much more than she is used to. She had come to an agreement with her step sisters, Baela and Rhaena, that they allow her a few hours on her own in this meadow, undisturbed by anyone else. Though her mother much preferred to that she remain alongside her sisters whenever she is out of sight, she, Baela, and Rhaena had come to an agreement that what her mother didn’t know couldn’t hurt her. And besides, they were never too far away from her. Being water nymphs, they could be by her side in less than a moment if she really needed them, so long as she doe does not stray too far from the river. And she has never been more grateful for it than she is right now.

Stretching her arms high above her head, she stretches out along the grass, enjoying the feeling of every blade of grass, the sweet smell of the blooms wafting on the breeze. Admittedly, this meadow had not been quite so plentiful when they had found it, following along the winding river, but she is the goddess of spring. Flowers bloom at her word and sun shines with her will. It had not been too difficult to turn this meadow into her own personal paradise, away from the chaos often wrought by her mother and brothers and stepfather.

There is a sudden change in the wind that causes her to sit up. Colder than it had been before, something more akin to winter than spring. The ground seems to rumble beneath her, shaking as if the sudden cold has sent it to shiver. Curiously, she turns her head toward the tree line, where the birches and willows keep the meadow shielded from view, only to find a man standing among them. Dressed in all black- breeches, cloak, and the shred of his tunic she can see beneath it- his platinum hair is almost jarring in contrast. He is not a big man, long and lithe, but there is an air to him that feels dangerous, dangerous enough to give her pause. He has not noticed her yet, face turned away, but she can see the long, stern plains of his face from where she sits, looking incredibly serious. That seriousness is only exacerbated by the dark leather eyepatch covering the eye closest to her, a deep red scar carved beneath it.

She does not think she has ever seen anyone here before, not outside of Baela, Rhaena, and herself, and his presence here is almost incongruous. Still, there is an air about him, one that makes it clear that he is a god just as she is, and that alone should make his surprise appearance less shocking.

“Hello.”

The sound of her voice seems to catch him off guard. Quickly, he turns toward her, shoulders tense, but they relax when he takes her in. She cannot imagine that she is intimidating, sitting flat in the grass all alone. “Hello.”

But it is that reminder of the grass that brings her pause. What is this man doing here? Where had he come from? It is not as if this meadow is easy to find, hidden amongst the trees as it is. She feels her brows furrow, head cocking in question. “How did you find this place?”

She had not put a glamour over this meadow, but she did not feel she had too. The forest, though light and airy, was a labyrinth of trees that seemed deterrent enough to keep any unwanted guests away. They were incredibly difficult to find your way through and she had been convinced it would be impossible to try- for God or mortal.

Near impossible, it seemed then.

His eye darts back to the treeline, taking half a step back. “If I am intruding, I can leave.”

“No.” She says it far too quickly and she can see the way his eyebrows raise in response to it, but she can’t find it in her to be ashamed. She is intrigued by this man, more so than she likely should be, and finds she wants to know more. To learn how he came to find this place. “Just because this place is unknown does not mean it is mine alone. You may stay. Beauty like this should be enjoyed.”

“Wise words,” he agrees, coming toward her. He hesitates at the end, torn on whether or not to truly join her, but it seems courtesy wins out as he lowers himself to the ground, joining her amongst the flowers. He looks entirely out of place, black against the blooms, but she says nothing, keeping her observation to herself.

They sit in absolute silence but she does not mind. He sits stiffly, as if uncomfortable, while she continues to take in all that is around her. From here, she can see the way the willows sway with the wind, the white puffy clouds floating by in the soft blue sky.

“I did not mean to,” he says. She looks at him, head tilted once again. “To find this place. It was not my intention. Though I admit I have never seen anything quite like it.”

She smiles, though he could not possibly know that he had complimented her. “It is a rare thing.”

“It feels almost as if it were from a painting,” he adds, looking around the meadow to take it in further.

She joins him in it, finding no shame in admiring her own work. It is a pretty place, though that had always been her intention. Olympus was beautiful in and of itself, but it was stark in that way. Ethereal and otherworldly, but cosmopolitan. Bright white marble, painted statues, stained glass. Everything beautiful, to be sure, but not in the untamed way that she seemed to crave. She preferred the beauty that was found in nature, in heavy branches filled with green leaves, tall grasses and wildflowers and crystalline waters.

“Do you know much about art?” she asks to fill the silence.

He seems caught off guard again from her question, but answers it anyway. “Not as much as I would like, but I can appreciate the beauty in something as well as any man. Though do not tell anyone. It would ruin my reputation.”

She laughs. “You needn’t worry. Your secret is safe with me. Which periods do you prefer?”

They talk for hours, the conversation unfurling as naturally as a bird’s wing. Art, history, philosophy. There is no subject they do not indulge in. He becomes less awkward with time as he grows more comfortable around her and she almost pulls a laugh from him not once, but twice. It seems quite the feat, for a man as serious as this one seems to be, though she does not let her pride get the better of her. When she asks him how she managed to find her well kept secret, he had simply said that one always finds the best things when you are not looking for them. A non answer, but that was alright. She was sure she could coax the answer from him eventually.

“Forgive me, I never asked you your name,” she says after what must have been hours, half appalled by her lack of manners.

He does not seem to mind, a good natured half smile making its way onto his face. “My friends call me Aemond. You may as well.”

It is not uncommon, for Gods to prefer more earthly names. She is often the same. There is power within a name and for such an innocent encounter, she does not feel the need to have him call her Persephone or Kore or any of those that strike some rumination of power and fear. So she gives him her common name, the one she feels is more true to who she is, and he smiles in response to it, repeating it back to her as if to test it. She likes the way it sounds when he says it, the way each letter seems to roll off him tongue, and somehow hearing him say the word alone is enough to make her flush.

She turns her head to hide it and only then notices that the sun has dipped below the trees, leaving the sky a hazy orange. Her mother will be expecting her home soon and there is no telling how poorly she will react if Rhaena and Baela return home without her. She doesn’t doubt that Rhaenyra will send her great serpent Syrax after her should she be even a moment late.

“I have to go,” she says, unable to keep the apologetic tone from her voice.

Reluctantly, she stands, brushing the dirt from her skirts. His lips had parted at her announcement, but now he ducks his head in an understanding nod. She smiles at him, not truly wanting to go yet, and makes her way toward the creek to call upon her sisters to come and fetch her. She does not make it two steps before he is calling after her.

“Can I see you again?”

She turns back to look at him. The insecurity on his face does not seem to match his features, looking almost out of place there. Still, she finds it entirely endearing and she realizes that she would absolutely like to see him again.

“Yes,” she agrees softly.

“Tomorrow?”

She does not bother to fight the smile itching its way onto her face. “Yes.”

He matches her smile then before standing. He comes forward and takes her hand, bringing her knuckles to his lips and placing a chaste kiss there. “Then I shall see you on the morrow, my lady.”

She can do nothing but hope he does not notice how hot her face has become.

“On the morrow.”

Read the rest here

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