starstruckwinnerpeanutscissors

[starstruckwinnerpeanutscissors]

Sugar and Spike

pairing(s): Spike x fem!reader

summary: after a night of patrol goes wrong, Spike starts noticing some changes in himself, mainly that Buffy's sweetest friend won't leave his mind and that she would never look at him the same if she knew what he wanted to do to her.

warnings: smut!!! a smidge of yandereness, kinda a sex or die fic, possessive spike, handjob, unprotected piv sex (wrap it before you tap it), oral (fem receiving), praise kink, biting/marking (mentions of blood), a little bit of spanking, overstimulation, riding, fingering, veryyy little plot, and I think thats about it.

In hindsight, they should've kept a better eye on him. It was an odd night of patrolling, the usual gaggle of vampires being a demon or two this time around. Big tall thing that appeared out of nowhere and left as soon as it came. Spike, always with little regard for the consequences of his actions, ran right in. Ran so hard he went right through the demon as it went into smoke. He breathed it in before going into a coughing fit, as if he could feel it in his nose and lungs, spreading in his chest like a vine that pulled everything impossible tight before releasing him like he was never in its grasp . Red flag one.

It fell on him like rain, some clumping into what looked like pink sparkles in his hair, on his jacket, his worn boots. He shook his head and ran his fingers through his hair, pulling away expecting to see it gunked together, but there was nothing there. It felt like his hair had been hit by my mist, slightly damp and cool. It seeped into his exposed skin, adhering itself into a pink sheen which also disappeared after only a few minutes. He remembered trying to brush it off, expecting it to feel wet but it was just slick. It was admittedly infuriating, especially since the feeling wouldn't go away. Red flag two.

“Buffy!” He shouted, rubbing his hands on his jeans as if it was going to wipe away the phantom feeling, but his complaints were met with apathy. 

“There’s nothing there, Spike.” A groan bubbled in his chest. 

“Astute observation, Slayer, but it feels like something’s there.” You were there beside him, something that would’ve gone unnoticed had he not been hit with your scent as your fingers brushed against his hand. He pulled away quickly out of instinct, not as subtle as he would’ve liked to because you noticed and scampered off in between Buffy and Giles. The distance between you and him got larger and the two of you talked about a mall trip you had planned and Willow was the only one to stick with him. She humored him, allowing him to shower at her place and taking a sample of skin only to find nothing. No residue, nothing abnormal, nothing had changed at all. Red flag three.

But he was sure it was fine. Nothing had really changed. You had been a bit cautious though.

You were prone to worrying, and he couldn't blame you. There was a lot to worry about when your best friends hunted demons and one of them was a literal creature of the night. You worried about Buffy so much he genuinely feared you would collapse from all the stress you put yourself under. Pursuing a nursing degree so they could avoid hospital visits unless absolutely necessary because none of you had the money. Having him train you in basic self-defense because you hated feeling like dead weight. You took up Latin and all of the other dead languages in those old dusty books just so you could be useful. You tied yourself in knots just to be sweet. God, you were so sweet. Even to your own detriment, like pure sugar that was going to rot his teeth eventually.

The more time you spent together, the more the rot seemed to take his brain than his teeth. His mouth never got anywhere near you; Buffy made sure of that. He wished he could say it was because she was babying you too much, that you were also tired of Buffy making Spike seem like the biggest mistake you could ever make. To be fair, he hardly knew you. He knew of you; he knew of the pink wardrobe and the fluffy socks and the pretty shoes. He knew of you as Buffy's cute neighbor who stopped by so often that you might as well live with them. You weren't being a baby, you were being cautious, even more now. He almost wished you didn't believe him as much as you did, maybe you'd keep visiting him. He hadn't seen you in days and it was really starting to take a toll on him. His leg bounced and he got in the bad habit of biting his nails, which was starting to get annoying with how often he had to repaint them.

If you were here, you would repaint them. You would sit your pretty self on his busted couch, and you'd have a little bag with you with all your pins and charms that jingled like the earrings that dangle from your ears. In your bag would be at least three shades of pink, a range of blacks and greys, and a wild card or two, maybe a blue or a green. You'd let him pick his color, despite knowing he always went for black. You asked anyway, just in case he decided to go with pink just to humor you. Had you walked through right now, he would've obliged. He would've done anything you asked him too. It wasn't even that he was lonely, but it was getting to suffocate in here. It was getting hot, like a fire was spreading. Each breath felt smoke filled, his skin was on fire, his skin was getting damp, like the dust had fallen again. His hand was shaky as he put a cigarette between his lips and lit it, surely the smell would break him out of what had to be a daze.

If you were here, you'd make a joke about him needing to air the place out. He'd probably open the door and call that enough air, but he liked his privacy, and he didn't like the idea of anyone just being able to waltz right in. You would want to make a joke about no one wanting to visit him, but you’d bite your tongue at the fear of being too harsh. You always got that look in your eye when you thought something that could be misconstrued as mean. You took your lip into your teeth and your pretty eyelashes flitted and you looked away. He thought about what it would be like to bite your lips, wanting to see what they looked like, all red and even prettier than they were before. Just a taste, that's all he wanted, a taste.

He got up to open up the door only for that phantom feeling to return. All over his body, it felt like he had stepped out into the sun, like every molecule that made up his body was vibrating and mere seconds from combusting. His breathing got ragged, his chest rising and falling rapidly and his brain going into overdrive. He squeezed his eyes shut as if it would make it go away, but even from behind his eyelids, you were there. The idea of you, your smile, your laughter, fuck the very way you said his name. It sounded so nice coming from you. 

The way you said it when he got injured in a fight when you would patch up his wounds and have a bag of blood for him to replace what he lost. “Spike.” you would say. Like he should’ve known better than to just throw himself into danger. Not even bothering to consider the possibility that he did it to look heroic, or maybe in your care with your hands over his chest. There’s no reason for him to be this beaten and bruised from some baby vamp; William the Bloody. Spike? He had pride, but not as much as Angelus. It was easily quenched by the fact that he was in no way losing with your delicate hands tracing over faded scars on his chest and feeding him blood while they were just dust. 

“Spike.” Buffy would say, her tone laced with less concern and more disapproval. She knew something was up. After all they had gone through together, vampires should’ve been nothing for him. He had to space out his “fuck ups” just to get her off his back, just to get her voice out of his head. She didn’t say his name like you did. 

There wasn’t much better than how you said his name when it was just the two of you. Being together in his crypt, sometimes in your own bedroom which you had invited him into much to Buffy’s chagrin. “It’s Spike,” you had said, “how many times have we saved the world with him? I think he’s earned it.” It sent shivers down his spine. He would’ve saved the world so much sooner if it meant being able to be in your space. If it meant getting to hear you say his name through fits of laughter, trying to regain your breath while still finding enough to utter his name. “Spike.” you said, your hand over his while you giggled. He felt that heat now, felt the heat of all your touches culminating right now. All over his skin, tensing his muscles, holding his chest as he fought for breath himself. 

While he had the chance, he should’ve raided your underwear drawer. Now he was left to fist his dick with just the memory of you. You wouldn’t notice a pair or two gone, surely you wouldn’t. It was the type of small thing you would overlook because really what is a pair or two. You wouldn’t want him to be in pain, hearing his situation now, you’d feel like it was all your fault. The least you could spare was a pair of your prettiest panties for him to wrap around his cock while he fisted himself to the thought of you and how you would say his name now. 

The closest he’d gotten would be after a big battle. You had taken a beating, by the time you had gotten to a safe space you had lost a dangerous amount of blood, but the sounds that came out of your mouth were so delicious. And you trusted him to carry you to safety, your bloody hand wrapping itself around his bicep to maintain some tether to consciousness. “Spike.” your voice dripping with pain, but even that wasn’t enough to mask how pretty you sounded. He felt bad then for how hard it got him, but there is such a thin line between   pain and pleasure. The only difference now would be circumstance, and he would never hurt you. This would be good for you, the both of you, you just had to let him. You just had to say his name. 

“Spike?” In that moment, he knew there had to be some high power looking out for him when he heard your voice. Dream-like, and soft, like the wind could have blown it out and away from your lips. “Spike?!” you said again. He couldn’t tell if it was his shred of restraint or his body’s unwillingness to listen to his brain that kept him glued to his couch. 

“Now really isn’t a good time, love.” He tried to keep his voice level, he really did, but it was too much. And you weren’t stupid, he heard the heels of your shoes against the hard floor and smelt you before he even saw you. And fuck you smelt heavenly. 

“Are you okay? What happened-” You looked like you had a halo above your head, or maybe he was much further gone than he had thought. You cut yourself off in shock. When you had walked in, you hadn’t expected to catch Spike with his hands down his pants. 

“You know what, I’m just gonna go a-and come back later.” You tried to smile in an attempt to make the situation less awkward than it needed to be, but he grabbed you by your wrist. 

“Wait-I just need-fuck. I just need you to stay for a bit. I don’t feel good.” Your eyes met and you saw the sheen of what you assumed to be sweat covering his chest and face. His pupils blown out, his hair out of place, his labored breathing, like he couldn’t catch his breath. Oddly enough, the sheen had a pink tinge, and despite the fact that his fangs were protruding, his vampire face hadn’t appeared. You reached out to touch his forehead to surprisingly find a temperature. He groaned at the contact, both wanting to melt into your skin and like it physically pained him. 

“What happened?” He declined the answer, instead pushing his head more into the palm of your hand, tipping his head to sniff the inside of your wrist. “What are you doing?” You tried to pull away and put some distance in between the two of you, but he pulled you back, even closer than before. 

“You smell so good.” He nosed his way past your wrist and up your arm till he made it to your collarbone, trying to find where he could hear your blood pump the loudest. “Stop it!” you pushed against him as soon as you felt the tip of his fangs attempting to break skin. To both of your surprise, he let you. It looked like it pained him to do so, his eyes screwed shut and his hand gripping the arm of his couch until the wood snapped. 

“If this is about the demon thing, I’m gonna go get Willow, okay? You just need to stay right here.” The authority you had laced in your voice was cute. 

“Just stay here with me, yeah? There’s no need to get Willow. We don’t need Willow.” His voice had dropped an octave, his pupils blown and his brain damn near empty. Anything went in one ear then out the other as he held your hands in his, staring through you as if daring you to defy him. 

“Spike, you aren’t well.” You had tried to reason, but all he heard was that you weren’t saying no because you didn’t want this. You were concerned for his well being, even when he had you pinned down and his teeth at your neck, each breath moving you closer to him drawing blood, you were saying no because you were concerned he didn’t want this. You somehow thought he didn’t want you. 

“I’ve never felt better, baby.”, he said-practically fucking growled. Hell if he wanted you, he needed you. He pressed himself into you, his hands grabbing at anything he could to ground himself, his left at the base of your scalp and his right bunching the fabric of your skirt in his hands. He breathed into your neck, nipping and nicking at bare skin then soothing it with his tongue and kisses. He worked himself up over you, taking and taking until he was drunk, his tongue lolled out as he put his head on your chest.“Can I fuck you.” 

You had been caught in a daze yourself, his words had barely registered. You had more sense than he did at this point, finding enough resolve to shake your head. “Please.” he begged, groaning it out through clenched teeth. “I need you to make it feel better, please God just make it feel better.” He had pushed his hips into your hand, his weeping cock leaking onto you, pleading with you to touch it. “I’ll make it good for you, I swear, just be my sweet girl, yeah? Just make it better.”

You experimentally rubbed the tip, and he whimpered. His hand grabbing your wrist so fast a look of shock flashed across his face. You took that as a sign to pull away but he put your hand back around him, pushing your hand up and down his base. “Too much too quick, love.” 

Any hesitancy you had was swallowed as he smashed his lips into yours. It was urgent and quick, almost bruising how hard he kissed and held you as if you were going to disappear at any point. He tugged at a handful of hair, catching you in a moan that he used to force tongue into your mouth, sucking it as you pumped his dick at a painfully slow pace. 

His kisses made you breathless, and it was then you realized that he likely forgot in his haze that you actually needed air. He moaned into your lips, the sound spreading throughout your body and shaking you to your core. It wasn’t lost on him how damp your underwear had gotten, had he had the strength to pull away to touch you he would, but the mere seconds his skin would be off yours was enough of a deterrent to keep him in place. 

You tried to move away, but his hand kept you in place. “Don’t move.”, he rushed it out, a tone that otherwise would’ve been more commanding had he not been weak himself. “Keep going.” His hips bucked and stuttered, his movements becoming erratic the more faint your touches became. Like it was a warning; let me up for air and I’ll keep touching you. He whined at the thought of you pulling away. That wasn’t fair. 

His lips parted from yours, settling for the corner of your mouth before moving to your jawline to your neck, then just under your ear. You gasped for breath, you numb with the ecstasy of air and the feeling of his rushed kisses. He was getting close. Your hand was covered in his sticky pre-cum, his cock even more so as your hand moved alone over him, his own hand now grabbing at your shirt at the feeling. You squeezed at the bass, a motion he clearly enjoyed with how his body tensed up. A series of obscenities flowed from his pretty lips as he came, spurts of his cum getting over your pretty pink skirt, an image Spike would get himself off to later. 

You didn’t get long to sit in what just happened when he was on you again, laying you on your back and ripping your skirt clean off. You moaned something that sounded like “My skirt!”, but neither one of you were really worried about it. 

His lithe fingers were quick, rubbing you through the fabric of your panties, while he kissed up to where you wanted him excruciatingly slow. His hands rubbed and teased at the soft skin of your thighs, marking bruises everywhere he went. 

He moaned into you, sniffing you once again, before finding a place he wanted to dig his fangs into. Maybe it was how delicately he stuck in his teeth, maybe it was the lust blown fervor, but it didn’t hurt as much as you anticipated. In fact, you moaned at the intrusion, unable to know what to do with yourself as he sucked and lapped up the blood he had drawn. Your fingers wove into his hair, as if he could be pulled any closer to you than he already was. “You taste so good. So good.” And he let you know as such. The obscene noises that flew from the both of you, the slurping and whines, the pop of his lips as he traveled from one spot to another. But that’s not how he intended to eat you whole.

You were unbelievably wet, soaking through your panties and even Spikes fingers before he took pity on you and decided to pull them aside and plant his fingers into you. Now, you weren’t a virgin, but you had never had sex that felt as good as this. Never had someone in you that had hundreds of years of practice beforehand. 

“You’re doing so good, Sweet Girl. So good, can’t get enough of you.” What was an attempt to calm your nerves, had you keening and over the moon, the praise bringing tears to your eyes as you ground yourself in his hand. That didn’t move him along any quicker, his tongue still collecting anything you would give him like he hadn’t been fed in years. 

“Spike!” You called out, which finally seemed to get his attention. He saw the glass-like look your eyes had taken and the pout on your face. You looked like you were about to cry. Poor thing, so desperate. He said he’d take care of you, make you feel good. No point in denying the inevitable. 

You whined when he pulled out of you just to choke when he began to devour you. His nose at your clit and his tongue plunging into. “Thank you.” he muttered into you, like this was some divine gift to him. “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.” The combination of his praise and how good he was giving it to you made that coil in your belly tighten and tighten until it threatened to snap. And he just kept going. Completely in his own world, the only thoughts in his mind being about you, how you smelled, how you tasted, god you were so good to him. Letting him eat you out like this, helping him like this. He shouldn’t have expected any less from his girl. His sweet girl. No one else's, you couldn’t be anyone else's after this. His grip tightened around your thighs at the very thought. “Mine.” he said, the vibrations hitting your core deliciously. “Mine.”

“Yours Spike, all yours.” He hummed in approval, inserting two fingers back into you while he kept up his electric pace. He held your hand as it began to be too much, your back arching off the couch and your thighs closing around his head as he just kept going. You called his name as you came, high and higher until it became too heavy on your mouth and you couldn’t say anything at all. The grip you had on his hand had loosened, but he hadn’t let up. He still rambled into you, “Again. Again. Again. Please.”

You didn’t know if your hips were bucking into him or try to wiggle away from him. Either way, both attempts were unsuccessful. With how hard he pulled on your panties they had snapped and had been thrown to the side for the simple crime of being in his way. His forearm lay on your hip keeping you in place. Your hand still laid in his, him squeezing it as if it was any comfort from the inescapable feeling of his tongue licking your thoroughly soaked pussy. 

Your toes curled in your frilly socks as you came again on his tongue, and you foolishly expected that to be enough. You would’ve asked him to stop if you could pant out anything more than whines. You would’ve pushed him away if you could manage anything more than weak taps on his forearm. “No more.” you whispered out. “Can’t.” His fingers rubbed your hand as some form of encouragement. 

“Yes you can, love.” You shook your head weakly, scooting your hips back only for him to swiftly smack your pussy. You preened on the contact, and he drank in the arousal that gushed out just from that. “My sweet girl isn’t gonna disappoint me, is she? She’s gonna make me all better, isn’t that right?” Your brain was so fogged out you couldn’t even produce a response. You just groaned and squirmed, unable to brace for impact when he smacked you again. 

“Spike!” You cried out, but he didn’t care. Heknew you were feeling good from how much you gushed while he tongue fucked your cunt. It was just a bit too much for you right now. You would feel better, you just needed to let go some more. He tried to relax you, tried rubbing mindless shapes on your skin to calm you down as he worked you through your third orgasm, but you just heaved. Your tits bounced with how heavily you breathed, and yet after all of that, he still didn’t feel better. Why didn’t he feel better?

Despite the relief that came from him pausing his abuse, you still whined as he sat up from behind your legs. With your taste still on his tongue, he kissed you. You sighed into him, the feeling of his large hands moving from your hip to under your shirt to touch your tummy and rip your bra in half. You didn’t even notice him moving you into his lap and setting your thighs on either side of him so you straddled him. He thumbed your nipples, pinching and rubbing over them while he relished in the feeling of you cunt so close to his dick. 

You didn’t seem to catch on either as he slid in between your folds, too lost of him finally kissing you again. You moaned into this kiss as his fingers dipped to toy with your clit before he whispered in your ear. “Just one more.”

In one fluid motion, he slipped his dick into his cunt, catching you as your limbs went weak. He was so big you felt your eyes water with the pressure of him being in you. You could tell he was struggling to stay still, but the haze had worn off enough for him to regain some sense. He still waited eagerly for you to adjust, brushing the fallen tears from your eyes and kissing your checks to make it all better.

“Too big. It’s too big.” You stuttered. It was all you could manage to mutter out. He cooed at you, his dick growing harder than he thought possible at the feeling of it all and the praise. 

“I was made for you, Pretty Girl, you can take it.” You yelped as he jerked his hips into yours, but he just couldn’t help it. You were so pretty like this, all fucked out and dumb. Not a thought behind those eyes of yours and the only thoughts he was capable of was you. How warm you were, how wet you were, how tight you were. You were squeezing him and  milking him dry and as much as he tried he just couldn’t stop him self from fucking into you. 

“I’m sorry.” and he meant it. You weren’t ready and he couldn’t even tell if he was ready, his body had a mind of his own and he felt himself just slipping into the feeling of being enveloped by you. “Just too good. You’re too good. My good girl. You’re gonna take all I give you, aren’t you, love? You gonna be my sweet girl and take it?” His voice was breathy and low and impossibly hot. 

All you could manage was a soft ‘mhm’ as you took him in. It wasn’t like you had any other choice as you bounced on his cock, gripping at his chest and taking in each moan you earned as you drew blood from your scratches. 

You felt every inch of him, felt the tip of his dick hit your cervix and kept pounding at it like it was his job;  like he would die if he didn’t. You can’t do anything but take it as you screw your eyes shut and just try to breathe as everything in your body fights to hold on to some feeling. It was impossible to think, not when Spike’s hands were all over you and his touch was so incredibly hot. Even stranger, a pink glow began to emanate from him, that or you were closer to passing out than you originally thought. . 

He kept you close to his chest as you both chased your impending highs together, your lips meeting in the middle as you moaned and sighed into each other's mouths and he was a goner, rambling like a mad man in your ear, thanking you endlessly for something he couldn’t put his hands on. Maybe it was your release, that you felt coming like a truck. He squeezed at the fat of your hips, pulling you even closer until neither one of you could tell where the other started and ended and you came like that, so close that you were almost suffocating, but a different kind from before. 

He came not long after you, his dick still inside spurting his cum inside you and keeping it in there with little intention of coming out any time soon. That pink glow had faded from before, fading away until there was nothing there and the slight pink tinge from before was gone too. His eyes drooped a bit, his blue irises that you hadn’t realized you had missed finally reappeared, his pupils returning to normal and his fangs retracting. 

He hung his head in your neck and you felt his temperature drop a bit, no longer boiling hot. He refused to move his head from his spot though. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was ashamed of what just happened. 

After the both of you had a moment to catch your breaths, he removed himself from inside you, stalking off to find something to wear now that your outfit was completely ruined. He even had the decency to turn around while you changed, granted he had a hard time looking at you anyway. 

“You’re gonna wanna deep clean that couch.” You said to break the silence. You were surprised you got a chuckle out of him. 

“Yeah. I don’t normally do this sort of thing on there.” Another moment of silence passed between the two of you.

“You know, we can go back to my place and I can fix your nails. I can tell you’ve been biting at them.” He didn’t need to be told twice either. The place still stunk of sex and his head was feeling clearer than it had in days, he couldn’t stand to be there right now.

“About all of this…you won’t tell Buffy, right?” You giggled. 

“Not if you don’t.” And that was more than enough for him.

[starstruckwinnerpeanutscissors]

So this is love (Part 3)

| Part 1 | Part 2 |

Summary: Your younger brother has been acting different lately. You noticed his one-eyed stare lingering on places it should not and when you tell Aegon about it one evening, he just has the perfect idea what to do about it.

Pairing: Aegon II Targaryen x Twin Sister!Reader x Aemond Targaryen

Word count: 5160 words

Warnings: incest, MDNI, Reader has Targaryen features, fluff, humor, complicated sibling relationships, tension, threesome, aegond mentioned, lactation kink, breeding kink, brief breastfeeding, subby aemond, masturbation, porn with plot, piv sex, voyerism kinda, jealous!aemond, possessive!aegon, no mention of Y/N

Notes: You asked, I deliver. Likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated. Enjoy 💛

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Aemond was behaving differently than before.

The first time you noticed it was when he helped you carry some books. Aegon had been talking—or rather arguing—with your mother which was why he couldn't be by your side, but your younger brother offered you a helping hand.

Together you carried the heavy books to your chambers. You were now six months pregnant, almost seven, and soon you would be advised to stay in your chambers to protect yourself and the child. You certainly didn't want to be bored, which is why you had gathered a lot of books from the castle library.

In your chambers, you had placed the books on the table, and you stretched afterward to banish the morning's tiredness from your limbs. The swelling of your belly was clearly visible through the fabric of your dress.

Aemond stared at you. Or rather, your belly.

You couldn't know what was going through his mind, and only when you snapped your fingers and repeatedly said his name did he wake up from whatever dream he was having and look at you as if you'd just hit him.

After that, he quickly said his goodbyes and left.

It was strange. You didn't know what to make of it, but you decided to keep it to yourself for now.

Aemond was your little brother. He was probably just lost in his thoughts, you told yourself.

A week later, another incident occurred.

You were sitting alone in your chambers, embroidering by the fireplace, when Aemond walked through the door. His steps were slow, careful, and deliberate. You knew why.

"He's not here," you assured him without him even having to ask.

"Hmm."

He waited for an explanation. You'd always been good at reading him, even though you naturally felt the strongest connection with your husband.

"I allowed him to go drinking with his companions in the city," you told him honestly.

Aegon and the sweet wine from the Arbor had always been inseparable. Almost as inseparable as the two of you. He knew you weren't allowed to drink wine at the moment, because of the child, which was why he'd deliberately held back. Hells, he even always wiped his mouth after he'd had a drink so you wouldn't taste wine on his lips when he kissed you.

That's how much he loved you and the child growing inside you.

"And he just left you here alone?" Aemond asked you suddenly, causing you to tilt your head.

"I allowed him," you repeated formally.

Your younger brother was a dark presence in the middle of the comfortably lit room. Whenever he came, it seemed to you as if he brought a certain coldness with him. Sometime after he lost his eye, he lost himself. He probably didn't even know when that exact moment was.

"And you don't think he could be having fun with a whore right now?"

The mere thought of it made you laugh. Not because it was so funny, but because it was stealthily absurd.

"Brother, be serious. I'm his twin. Don't you think I would feel it if he did that?"

For a moment, the room was shrouded in silence. Only the flickering of the fireplace and the chirping of the birds outside in the sky could be heard. He took one step toward you. Then two, and suddenly he was standing directly in front of the sofa where you had sat down. There was something in his gaze that you couldn't interpret.

It was almost like a burning flame glowing in the depths of his violet gaze.

He raised his hand and his fingers cupped your chin. He held it tight and simply stared down at you.

You let it happen.

You were confused. Your little brother had never done anything like this before. You didn't know how to react. Only Aegon touched you like this.

"Aemond..." you whispered his name softly, hoping it would wake him from the trance he was trapped in. It was in vain.

His grip on your chin lingered, and his thumb gently stroked the underside of your lower lip. The touch was too intimate, too special, to be an accident.

He wanted to touch you like this.

"My sweet sister and her optimistic view of the world," he murmured, sounding as if he were talking more to himself than to you.

His thumb stroked your lip again, more clearly this time, and his gaze wandered down your body. He took in the slight blush on your cheeks, the way your hair fell loose over your shoulders, your pale skin, and the way the fabric of your light green dress hugged your figure.

His pupil was dilated, his gaze full of wonder, and then, quite suddenly, he withdrew his hand and turned his back.

You, on the other hand, simply exhaled the breath you'd been holding all this time. Finally, it was over. Whatever that was...

"Good evening, sweet sister," he whispered, closing the door behind him.

You brushed your face with your hand and leaned back against the cushion of the sofa.

Should you tell Aegon about this?

Aegon returned to your shared chambers late that evening. He was obviously tipsy, but he was beaming from ear to ear when he saw you. He opened his arms as if to embrace you, then stumbled toward you.

"My beloved wife!" he explained happily before falling to his knees in front of you and resting his forehead against your pregnant belly.

"And hello to you too, my little dragon," he whispered before placing a small kiss on the fabric of your dress.

His voice was slurred, but despite everything, you could hear how much you and the babe meant to him. You were his twin, after all, and you had been trying for six years. Now, finally, it worked.

A long sigh escaped him and he leaned his forehead against your belly while his hands stroked your thighs. It had a calming effect on you, and you could immediately feel the tension leave your shoulders.

He always managed to calm you down.

"Darling... I need to talk to you," you began gently, but you immediately felt Aegon's fingers curl into the fabric of your dress. He knew that tone. You wanted to talk.

He merely made a small noise of protest and closed his eyes, pretending he'd just fallen asleep from all the alcohol, but you knew him better than that. He was very much awake and listening intently. He was practically glued to your every word whenever you spoke.

"Have you noticed that Aemond has been acting differently lately than usual?" you asked him cautiously, hoping you weren't just imagining it all.

Your brother-husband chuckled against the fabric of your soft, silken gown and snuggled even closer to you. Gods, he loved you so much. To him, you were both the Maiden and the Mother, especially since you carried his heir inside of you. He would forever worship at the altar of your beauty if you would allow it.

"Aemond is a twat," he murmured, amused. "He always acts strangely."

You gently ran your hand through his wild silver hair so it wouldn't fall over his forehead. You wanted to see his beautiful face, not just imagine it.

"I mean it, my love. He's acting strange," you insisted.

You were such a stubborn person. Just like him. After all, you were one and the same.

"Explain it to me, my love," he finally sighed, turning his head so he was resting on your lap and could look up at you, while your fingers continued to comb his hair.

"He keeps staring at me! He—"

"You mean like this?" he interrupted with a laugh, holding one of his hands over his left eye to cover it as if it were an eye patch.

You rolled your eyes in a frenzy and gave him a gentle hit on the shoulder, which only made him laugh more.

"This isn't funny, Aegon," you chided him, and he put his hand down and snuggled back into your soft lap.

"I know, I know... The funny thing is, he's still such a handsome bastard despite all this," he finally grumbled.

"Hey, you're handsome too, darling."

"I know."

The arrogant grin on his face was infuriating on the one hand and cute on the other. Oh, you hated how he could make you feel all these things.

No, actually, you loved it.

"But listen to me now," you began again. "He... he questioned our marriage. He said you were cheating on me with some whores from the city's brothels."

Your husband's expression darkened instantly. The violet in his eyes darkened so much it was almost black, and you could almost feel him burning inside.

"He did what?" His voice was ragged and deep, and it sent a shiver down your back.

"Aemond came to me today when I was alone. I told him you weren't here, and then he speculated that you were in a brothel. He touched me and looked at me like I was a precious necklace or—or a piece of meat," you told him, remembering what had happened a few hours ago.

You didn't see it, but at your words, Aegon's gaze darkened even further. Something flared up within him. Jealousy, a protective instinct, and something very possessive.

You were his twin, his beautiful sister, his wife, and the mother of his child. You were his.

If your little brother even thought he could take you away from him, he would show him exactly how much you meant to him. He would show him that while he may desire you, he will never possess you.

Never.

"Come," he said suddenly, standing up, holding out his hand, to which you just looked up at him with wide, uncertain eyes. You were a little confused. Again.

"What are we doing?" you asked him as he helped you to your feet, instinctively putting an arm around your waist and beginning to lead you out the door.

He didn't answer you.

The door to your chambers slammed behind you, and he began leading you down the corridor. The sky had already turned pitch black, and not a soul was moving across the courtyard. A few torches burned here and there on the walls, and the sound of metal armor could be heard whenever a guard moved through the halls.

Halfway there, you realized where your husband was taking you.

"No, Aegon, please. We can't go to him. Not now. He—"

"Not a word!" he interrupted your pleading and simply pulled you further down the corridor. He loved you more than anything in the world, and now he was going to prove it to his annoying little brother.

He didn't want to see it? Now he was going to be confronted with the truth.

While your husband had a precise plan of what he was about to do, you didn't know. You placed a protective hand on your round belly and hurried with him, trying to keep up with his quick steps.

You were on your way to Aemond's chambers.

You didn't want any arguments. Ever since that fateful evening on Driftmark, you hated arguments like a pest. Your family was destroying each other, so much hatred was growing that the cracks and the facade of House Targaryen were slowly beginning to crumble.

But you wouldn't be the ones that would bring everything crashing down.

Tonight, however, something would change anyway.

Aemond looked up in surprise from the cramped history book lying on the table in front of him as the wooden door to his chambers opened with a jerk. He himself was sitting in his favorite armchair in front of the fireplace, in which a flame flickered.

One of his eyes widened as he saw his older brother leading you by the hand into his rooms.

Aegon hardly seemed drunk, but his gaze was wild, like that of an angry animal. He was furious. Frenzied, even.

You, on the other hand, seemed confused and unaware of what was happening. This, in turn, infuriated the One-Eyed Prince. He was your husband and should treat you with more respect and tenderness.

Especially now, when you were so fragile, carrying his child.

Aemond didn't see you entwine your fingers with Aegon's, or instinctively lean against his side. He didn't see Aegon look over to make sure you were okay and that you lacked nothing.

Aemond might have noticed, but he didn't want to see it.

"Brother? Sister?" he asked, closing the book in front of him. An ancient tale about the conquest of Westeros done by Aegon, Visenya, and Rhaenys.

Aegon didn't answer him. Instead, he gently brushed the few loose strands of hair from his face before his thumb lingered for a few seconds on the soft, warm skin of your cheek.

"Isn't she beautiful?" asked the older brother, looking at his younger brother.

For a moment, Aemond didn't know how to respond. Of course you were beautiful. With your silver curls and amethyst-colored eyes, you were the epitome of a Targaryen princess—a future queen. Pregnancy only made you shine brighter than usual.

Your smile was like a cold breeze on an unbearably hot day, and he still remembered how you helped him regain his balance after losing his eye.

You were a blessing sent by the gods themselves.

"She is lovely, Aegon," he finally answered, his voice calm and collected, betraying nothing of the storm raging within him.

"Lovely, huh?"

Aegon buried his head in the crook of your neck and placed a few gentle kisses along your throat while wrapping his arms around your middle, his hands resting on the curve of your belly.

Aemond could hardly contain himself at the scene. He wanted this, too. He wondered how your warm and soft body would press against his, how your skin would feel beneath his fingertips, and how sweetly you would moan for him if he had you lying on your back beneath him.

He knew he shouldn't think of you like that, but he couldn't help it.

Not after seeing Aegon pleasuring you several times. Like the time he found you, sitting on the windowsill with your husband disappearing between your thighs, bringing you to climax. Or the other time he interrupted you in the library.

To this day, he couldn't sit in that chair because every time he thought of you kneeling before Aegon, your tongue running over his shaft.

Once, after a night with Madame Sylvie, he even saw the two of you enjoying yourselves in the middle of the brothel. You'd danced, wearing such a thin fabric that perfectly showcased your curves, while Aegon had guided your hips and was obviously hard.

He wanted to touch you too.

"My wife informed me that you've been particularly attentive to her lately. Is that true, little brother?" the older prince asked him as he continued to pepper your neck with kisses, making your eyelids flutter.

"Attentive? How exactly?"

Aegon was about to answer, but this time you were quicker: "Well, you're staring at me. You've been different since I became pregnant. You're always coming to me when Aegon isn't here, you help me, you—"

"Shouldn't all good brothers help their sisters?" Aemond replied, to which you immediately shook your head.

"Not like that. You're looking at my breasts. At my stomach," you finally said, which only further confirmed your husband's suspicion.

"You stupid cunt," Aegon said suddenly. "You desire my wife."

For a moment, the room was shrouded in silence, and neither of you said a word. In fact, you hardly dared to breathe. The tension was palpable.

"She is a beautiful woman," Aemond said finally. He didn't even try to hide it now, as it was no longer useful. "Of pure Valyrian blood."

"Yes, and she carries my heir, Aemond. Mine!" Aegon cried, emphasizing that you belonged to him. You were his heart. His better half. No one could tear you apart. No one. He would make sure of that.

The one-eyed prince rose from his chair and slowly strode toward you. The way he moved and the way his eyes never left you sent shivers down your spine. He reminded you of a wild dragon lying in wait. And you were his prey.

"But it is not just her I desire," Aemond confessed in a calm voice, causing Aegon to blink in confusion.

He hadn't seen that coming.

"Aemond..." you whispered softly, seeing a bright blush begin to play around his pale cheeks.

It seemed as if your little brother wanted not only you for himself, but your twin as well. You couldn't blame him. Aegon was a beautiful man.

It wasn't the first time you'd heard a man express interest in him. It had happened a few times in the city's brothels, too. Just as many women wanted you.

Desire went in many directions, it seemed.

Suddenly, you felt your husband's warm breath on your ear, and he whispered, "Before the child comes... shall we have a night of fun? A night of joy? What do you say, my love? You shall decide."

You turned your head and simply looked at him for a moment. The light from the fireplace played around Aegon's face, and the wild strands of his hair fell over his forehead.

You leaned toward him and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips. Aegon wasted no time and took your face in his hand, deepening the kiss.

Aemond looked down at the floor. He didn't want to look at this.

Then, all of a sudden, a soft whisper sounded, demanding his attention again: "Aemond..."

He looked up and saw Aegon peppering your neck with kisses while you looked at Aemond. Your pupils were dilated, and you reached out a hand to him.

He didn't wait a second. This was probably the only night he would get what his heart yearned for. He wouldn't ignore this opportunity.

Aemond was with you immediately. Slowly and carefully, he raised a hand and stroked it through your long, silver hair. It was as silky as he'd always imagined it to be. He took a strand in his hand and brought it to his nose, and the moment he inhaled the sweet, floral scent, he knew.

He knew that no other woman would ever be suitable for him.

He only wanted you. His sweet sister.

Your brother-husband gently bit the sensitive skin on your neck, eliciting a soft moan. He knew exactly how to make you sing.

Aemond's other hand gently rested on your swollen belly, and for a second, he was able to lose himself in the fantasy that you were carrying his child and not that of his drunken, foolish brother. You two were twins, but he still believed he could treat you better.

Aegon's lips traveled down to your collarbone, where he continued to leave a line of kisses until he noticed where his brother's hand was resting.

He would let this night happen, but he certainly wouldn't let him think that you might one day be his. This was going too far.

He took his younger brother's hand and instead brought it higher to your chest, eliciting gasps from both you and Aemond. The small noise caused the elder to feel all his blood rush south.

Aemond immediately began kneading your breast. The flesh was soft and warm, and, gods, he would give anything to rest his head on those two perfect pillows every night. He wondered if your breasts were already producing milk for the coming child.

Aegon's hands wandered to the knot of your robe, and he gently lowered it down your shoulders until it finally fell to the floor next to the three of you. You now stood before them in only your thin nightgown, which didn't hide much of your curves. It was loose, yes, but the fabric was almost sheer.

Aemond's one eye instantly widened. You were a heavenly sight. Your curves—once delicate—were now softer and more womanly, your breasts were swollen, and your belly was full and round.

You were by far the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

Aegon grinned wickedly when he saw the expression of wonder on his younger brother's face as he gazed upon his beloved twin sister. This was exactly how he had imagined it.

"Isn't she truly divine?" Aegon whispered, gently biting your sensitive earlobe without giving her any sign, causing you to gasp in shock, which in turn made Aemond barely contain himself.

He wanted you. He needed you.

"Aegon—Oh! Aegon…" you moaned as he then began to mark the sensitive skin beneath your ear, kissing and sucking on it.

"Gods, she's so beautiful," Aemond finally replied breathlessly, causing your twin to giggle.

"Yes, is she not? I'm truly lucky to call her my wife. The mother of my children," Aegon said possessively, instinctively pressing himself against your backside, whereupon you could clearly feel his erection against your rear.

The feeling was certainly not unfamiliar to you, but you'd never done it with another person before. Of course, you'd been caught many times in the past by Aemond, or by some knights, lords, ladies, and others, but this was different.

This was new, and admittedly, it was very exciting.

The feeling of Aegon's erection was intoxicating, and it made you feel bolder. As if you could suddenly do anything. He'd always had that effect on him, and he probably always would on you.

"You're dressed far too warmly, little brother. Don't you agree?" you asked him, your breath getting faster and faster with every kiss your husband pressed to your neck, marking you as his.

He may have agreed to let you share Aemond's bed tonight, but you were still his. You belonged only to him, and the child within you proved it.

Your little brother didn't nod his head until you finished the sentence, and he immediately began undoing the buckles on the front of his doublet with trembling fingers.

Your twin brother's hands picked up where your younger brother left off, kneading your breasts, eliciting a series of pleasurable moans and gasps. You had become so sensitive these days, and Aegon loved it. If it were up to him, he would impregnate you over and over again so you would stay like this forever.

The feeling of his hands made you move your hips against your husband's, hoping to ease some of the tension that was building inside you like a gigantic wave, but to no avail.

The leather doublet fell to the floor, and Aemond hurried to peel off the shirt he wore underneath. It fell to the floor next to the leather and your silk robe, leaving him in only his trousers, his boots, and his eye patch.

The sight of his pale, muscular torso alone made you groan, and when you reached out to touch him, Aemond couldn't hold back.

Instead of guiding your hand to his chest so you could caress his muscles, he leaned down and kissed you as if his entire life depended on it. The kiss was messy and more teeth than tongue, but it was wonderful.

Aegon gripped your hips harder at the sight, moving his hips fast and hard against yours, chasing the sensation of release himself.

You ran your hands through your brother's hair, down to his chest, and finally to the hem of his trousers, which you immediately began to undo with nimble fingers.

You wanted to see him.

You wanted to feel him.

Seven hells, you wanted to taste him.

Aemond grunted deeply as he felt your fingers quickly and easily unbutton his trousers. He could hardly wait to feel your delicate hands on his cock. It had been a fantasy he'd had since he was a little boy, when Aegon first took him—without your knowledge—to one of the city's brothels.

The woman who took his virginity back then had been old, and there was no love or lust in the act, and the memory of her disgusted him, but you... You had been his object of desire ever since he learned what desire even was.

But suddenly, just before you were ready to slip your hand beneath the fabric, Aegon lifted you into his arms, eliciting a squeal of surprise. He carried you to the bed and lowered you gently and carefully, not wanting to harm you or his heir.

Your husband quickly climbed over you on the mattress and looked down at you with darkened, almost black eyes. The amethyst color of his—and your—eyes had almost completely disappeared.

Lying beneath him in your thin, white nightgown, your long silver hair fanning out beneath you, you looked like a goddess to him.

Like The Mother herself.

"May I?" your beloved whispered to you, to which you quickly nodded.

Without a second's hesitation, he grabbed the end of the only piece of fabric that wasn't covering you and pulled it over your head with a yank before throwing it somewhere on the floor next to the bed.

"Seven Hells..." Aegon cursed when he saw you lying around him without any clothing.

He had seen you naked thousands and thousands of times, but never like this. The last few months of your pregnancy only made you more beautiful in his eyes.

"You're becoming more beautiful every day, my heart," he said speechlessly, letting his hands wander slowly, almost adoringly, over your body.

"You too," you replied with a smile before gently patting his tunic, telling him that he should finally do the same.

He understood immediately and pulled his light blue tunic over his head and threw it behind him. His pants and boots followed, until finally, he lay completely naked on top of you, kissing you with a passion that would never bore you.

Your twin brother lowered his hand to your most intimate place and let one of his thick fingers wander through your slit, bringing a cheeky grin to his lips.

"You're always ready for me so quickly. My perfect girl," he whispered, raising his hand to his face, showing you how wet you already were for him.

A dirty grin spread across your face and you opened your mouth, blinking innocently up at him. He put his finger in your mouth and immediately closed your lips around it, sucking your own juices from his finger.

You couldn't help but moan, at which point your husband reached down for his cock and stroked himself a few times to get himself fully hard.

He pulled his finger out of your mouth and grabbed your thighs, pushing them apart so he could lie between them. It was difficult because of your belly, but you had done it before and you would do it again today.

A soft grunt from the background caught your attention, and you could feel your inner walls immediately tightening when you saw Aemond standing at the foot of the bed, masturbating to the sight of the two of you.

His cock seemed a little longer than Aegon's, but Aegon's was definitely thicker. You liked both of them and would love to take them both in your mouth at the same time, if you could.

Your brother followed your gaze and also licked his lips when he saw Aemond and how his hand quickly stroked up and down his cock over and over again.

It made him even harder.

"Come here, brother. Join us," Aegon commanded, reaching out a hand to him.

To your surprise, he obeyed and climbed onto the bed next to you. He was now kneeling beside his older brother, looking down at you with him.

It was the most erotic thing you'd ever seen.

"You won't come inside her. You won't fuck her. But our sweet sister needs lots of loving, and so feel free to touch her," Aegon explained, and this time his expression was serious. You were only his.

"And you?" Aemond asked, his voice soft and intimate.

"Yes, please," Aegon grinned before turning back to you and slowly sliding his cock into your tight cunt.

You were so wet that he could easily slide in and move immediately without you having to adjust to his size.

Your moans and the sound of skin against skin filled the room, and Aemond couldn't hold back any longer.

He lay down by your side and began with lavish kisses on your breast. It was just as soft as he'd imagined. While he took one of your nipples into his mouth and sucked on it, you took his cock in your hand and moved it up and down, working him to his climax.

Aegon moved his hips fast and hard against yours, swallowing your moans with his mouth. Your kisses were heated, and you could feel him twitching inside of you.

He was close.

Your thumb stroked the tip of Aemond's cock, and he shuddered because your touch felt so incredibly good.

With one last hard thrust, Aegon came inside you, but instead of lying down next to you and snuggling up to you, he grabbed Aemond by the hair and pressed an aggressive kiss to his lips.

That was what sent Aemond over the edge as well, spurting his seed all over his stomach. The white fluid dripped down your chest and onto your pregnant belly.

You were now the only one who hadn't climaxed yet, but your brothers would never abandon you.

Aegon turned away from Aemond again and pressed his face against one of your breasts. He loved your breasts. They were the best pillow he'd ever slept on.

"If you're lucky, brother, you'll get to taste her," Aegon murmured before wrapping his lips around your nipple and sucking. Meanwhile, one of his fingers played with your sensitive pearl.

Aemond watched the scene, breathing heavily, and then he saw it. The smile on Aegon's face as a few drops of milk moistened his tongue.

He licked his lips, and you smothered him, taking your own breast in your hand and massaging it, hoping he would want it too.

Without saying a word, he too leaned down and closed his mouth around your other nipple, sucking so hard that the satisfaction almost bordered on pain.

The moment a drop of milk dripped onto his tongue, Aemond was sure he had somehow entered the heavens and was now in the arms of a goddess.

You gently stroked your two brothers' silver hair as they feasted on the drops of your milk that your body was already producing for the child. Your husband stroked your pearl faster, and then suddenly, with a loud moan of both their names, you came.

As you fell asleep that night in the arms of your two brothers, all you could think about was:

Was that a mistake? Probably.

But did you regret it? Never.

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘∙•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅

Taglist: @bey0nd-1he-stars @sassypain @hisfavegirl @elliott-calls @themoonofthesun

[starstruckwinnerpeanutscissors]

Omg I love this idea, I want to know more!!!

Dreams of Dragons

─────── · · A House of the Dragon FanFic

PAIRING: Daemon Targaryen x Fem!Targaryen!Reader

SUMMARY: It had been centuries since Kings and Dragons ruled over Westeros but in your dreams- they still do. Being a descendant of the Targaryens, your parents told you stories of the great battles your family had fought generations ago that inspire to to become an archeologist determined to dig up more on your families past. So on a opportunity trip to Dragonstone, you are met by an invisible force that appears to have its own plans for you.

TAGS: alternate universe, canon divergence, no use of y/n, second person perspective, female pronouns used, coarse language, depictions of blood and anxiety attacks, emotional hurt/comfort, protective!Daemon, angst, soulmates, time travel, not beta read. MASTERLIST | TAGLIST REQUEST | WORDCOUNT: 2,070 A/N: this is my first time writing something for this fandom, please be kind and I hope you all enjoy!

─────── · ·

EVER SINCE YOU WERE A CHILD, YOU WERE FASCINATED BY DRAGONS. Once night would fall your parents would sit at the foot of your bed, a flickering lamp by your bedside acted as the only illumination of the room and played with the shadows to cast the great tales of your ancestors, the once mighty House Targaryen upon your ceiling.

Eyes feeling heavy and body sore from running about all day, your mind was always active, imagination sparking to life as their stories washed over into your dreams that you often confused with reality. Your dreams always felt too real, as if that distant past was increasingly tangible every time you opened your mind to rest.

You could hear the sounds of battle, the clashing of metal and cries of men fighting amongst ash and blood that seemingly rained down from the skies. You were unflinching to the thunderous roars of dragons above, their wings the wind carrying the smoke over to everyone neighbouring in warning not to mess with the Targaryen's. But it was a dream you woke up from nevertheless as you found yourself back in the waking realm day after day.

Your parents thought nothing of your over-active imagination nor your constant desire to learn more of your ancestry, just taking it to you being a curious child with an ambitious mind for knowledge so they kept telling you stories of the bravest princesses and princes that defended the realm, the tricks and battles they faced, and of course, the dragons they rode above the clouds touching the sun before anyone else could.

But as you grew older and your peers 'matured past fantasies' as your teachers put it, you became distanced from the people of your years and wanted to stuff your face in a book or memorize another historical map than attend any social events or soccer practices.

The walls of your room could not expand like your mind and became increasingly flooded in your illustrations and detailed diagrams of each house crest and dragon you read in your books.

Once the upper years of your secondary school education came, so did your time to shine in your historical, political, and classical studies. With ease you could recite the lineage of the great houses and every battle waged from coast to coast of Westeros that allowed you an early pass into college where your passions could be fully envisioned.

But with every sleepless night that passed you by from being enveloped in your studies, your once vivid dreams of the battlefields faded to staring at the back of your eyelids and waking up to the sound of your alarm.

─────── · ·

You would be one of the earliest graduates from your doctorate program in archeology and history, the slips of paper hung proudly up on your office walls beside your original illustrations that you hoped to inspire the younger generations that stepped foot into your office with a thirst for knowledge just like you were and to some point, still are.

The university you graduated from and now worked at was sending you and a small research team to the remains of Dragonstone and you nearly kissed your department head in thanks as you ran out of the meeting room to pack your bags and equipment. 

A heavy backpack, duffle bag, and camera bag were all thrown into the back of your car as you made your way towards the airport for your overnight flight to the coast where it would be a few days of boat travel before you would reach the island. 

You fell asleep easily on the flight contradicting the restless excitement you felt and for the first time in years, you didn’t see the back of your eyelids but vines slithering between weathered stones. The bench you sat on was a cold hard stone, porous and rough underneath your palms as you observed the long black dress you wore. 

Pinching the material between our fingers, its softness confused you for the garment materials you researched for the lower classes were definitely not so velvety. Hiking up your gown slightly you stared at your polished short heels that confirmed your suspicions. You were a noble woman of some kind in this new dream and by the looks of your hands, had yet to see battle if you ever were. 

A cough has your eyes snapping upwards, your skirt dropping as your neck warms and crawls up to your cheeks. “To be scandalized or enthralled by seeing the princesses hiked up skirts, hm,” a tall man with long white hair hums to himself whilst leans against a pillar, hand lazily resting upon the hilt of a sword, their smirk wavering on a grin as they await your response with humour evident not only in their tone but in they violet eyes. 

You look away confused, you recognize the man from some place yet cannot place a name to the face as you take in the gardens that surround you in search of an answer. The rain of blood from past dreams is now a small fountain with a swan spraying water in a steady stream from its beak into a porcelain bowl. The flowers that surround you are thriving in various pigmented shades of reds, blues, and yellows; land untrampled and not a single corpse or dragon in sight.

Your distant attitude and lack of response seem to offend the man, his smile sliding off his face as he casts a glare to the foliage for taking your attention away from him. He takes long strides, sword and cape swinging by his sides to stand before you, casting you in his shadow as a gloved hand tucks a strand of your matching white hair behind your ear. 

“What troubles your mind?” His voice is tender, all traces of humour left as you turn to look into his eyes. No one had ever spoken to you nevertheless touched you in a dream before… you pinch yourself in an effort to wake the real you up only to see a bruise starting to form against your skin. The silver-haired man before you hisses, separating your hand from your skin with a glare, “why are you punishing yourself? What have you done?” 

You watch as the pastel violet fades to a deep purple and look away, mind racing to conjure an explanation but any thoughts are ripped away as a gloved hand grips your chin, forcing your eyes to cast upon his refined features set between a dozen healed scars. “Are you still ill? Do you need me to grab a Maester?” 

He uses his teeth to pull the glove off his other hand, leaving it to fall amongst the grass and clovers before resting his knuckles against your forehead to check your temperature, “you don’t feel hot…” his voice a mere murmur in his observation before sharpening, “who has made you this way?” 

His grip is unwavering on your chin, bordering on a physical comfort and hurtful as you mistake his growing concern for anger and rush to speak, “It is me! This is all of my doing, your highness.” You swallow deeply and pray that you stated the correct title so as to not lose your physical head. You shake yourself away from his touch before moving to stand. 

Yet just as you step around his broad frame his hand reaches for your upper arm, keeping you in place, “Do you forget yourself?” his mouth pressed directly near your near, he feels you still beneath his touch. 

“Please, excuse me,” you look straight forwards, peering down the open hallway for an escape. 

“I demand you tell-” the man is cut off by a new feminine tone that steps out into the sunlight. She too wears a long dress yet hers is mostly red with gold accents. Her hair braided across the top of her head to form a crown, her stance upright, gaze as violet and piercing as the man who holds you and suddenly it dawns on you. 

“Princess Rhaenyra,” you whisper before slowly turning your head to meet the Rogue Prince’s gaze. Your mouth is agape, eyes wide before casting down as you try and bow yet Daemon’s hold on your arm keeps you. 

“She is not right in the head,” Dameon calls over his shoulder to his niece who looks between the two people she adores most in concern. You shoot the prince a glare for his choice of words that he chooses to ignore. 

“But the Maester promised that once she woke up again she would be herself again,” Rhaenyra frowns. Dameons hand slips down your arm, fingers interlacing with your own before raising your hands to press a lingering kiss to your knuckles. His thumb tracing the sparks leftover from his mouth to your skin.

You open and close your mouth like a fish out of water, breathing starting to become ragged as you feel overwhelmed, not understand why you have yet to wake up, why the royals you to some part idolized in the stories your parents told you were worried over you presently, “It's just not adding up,” and you don’t realize to be speaking your thoughts. 

“What does not?” Rhaenyra takes another step forwards, hesitant to give you space, not wanting to overwhelm you further. Your lip quivers and you swear to hear a bee humming in your ears as your body begins to sweat. You start to grip at your bodice that feels too tight against your body, feet wavering on stability before you feel yourself falling back and into an awaiting chest. 

“Get the Maesters!” Daemon roars before hearing a dozen rushed feet of servants departing down the hall. He walks you both towards the bench to sit in his lap, pushing your head gently back to rest against his padded shoulder. 

Rhaenyra falls to her knees before you both, gripping your hands with tears welling in her eyes, “please,” she squeezes your hands, “stay with me, I cannot do this alone again, I need my-” you fail to catch the rest of her words feeling as your eyes grow heavy with every passing moment. Your breaths begin to even out in contrast to Daemons short panicked ones as his hands rubs up in down your waist in a reassurance for you or himself you will never get to know as sleep overcomes you, the last thing you hear are his pleas, “wake up, I will not live to see you laying lifeless for another day!”

─────── · ·

You find yourself in the waking world and being blinded by artificial lighting as a stewardess politely asks you to place your seat upright and tray up. You hastily comply with an anxious smile as your co-worker in the aisle seat across from you greets you a polite, “good morning.”

But as you deboard the plane, grab your luggage and head for the boats down by the docks, it is as if a presence lingered behind you… watching… waiting, your paranoia growing with every step you took closer towards Dragonstone. You could hear your heartbeat like a drum ringing in your ears with every step you took, connecting to your soul as you were unflinching to the waves coming over the boat, soaking you to the core. 

You debated turning back as you were last to leave the boat and step onto rocky terrain yet your body was acting on its own volition, physically keeping you from moving backwards and dragged you to the cliff face as the sun was setting, a pastel painting of hues reflecting across the deep blue sea that you stood before. A town of tents behind you and a fortress awaiting just up the hill. 

The cool ocean breeze kissed your skin and blades of grass brushed up against your ankles like the island was comforting you for something you had yet to discover. A call of your name has you snapping from your thoughts, a flash of silver out of the corner of your eye has you ignoring your peers before you squeeze your eyes to shut off the nonsense you were experiencing and join everyone for a communal dinner that you are last to leave from, childish to say you were scared to fall asleep in fear of waking up on the other side again… 

─────── · ·

─ · · A/N: what did you think? and is there anything you want to happen next? 😊

[starstruckwinnerpeanutscissors]

living dead girl | aemond targaryen

Summary: You didn’t think going to a gig would then have you on your back in a hotel room with the lead guitarist between your thighs and a blinking red light on the nightstand.

Pairing: Metal Guitarist!Aemond x Reader (modern au)

Warnings (not in order): roughly set in the 00s, voyeurism/filming sexual acts (with consent! but again there is explicit filming of sexual acts), smut, spitting, spanking, overstimulation, guitarists finger faster, multiple positions, use of nicknames (baby, bunny etc.), face-fucking, dry humping, a healthy dose of dacryphilia, softish? dom!aemond, sub reader, cum eating/sharing (oops), UNPROTECTED sex (don’t do this irl), edging (m), creampie, aftercare.

Word count: 30k

authors note: ive read this about a million times, if there's a mistake know i had to proof this myself, enjoy babies hehe <3

Dragon’s Gate Bar

            Bodies, bodies, bodies.

The scent of incense hung heavy in the air, so overpowering that it drowned out the usual smells of a packed crowd—sweat, stale drinks, and damp jackets. About 150 people were shoved into the sticky floored basement of an alt bar, the only one in the city; bodies pressed shoulder to shoulder, the walls sweating from the collective heat. All shuffling and moving for the same reason – to see some band.

“I’m not sure why you dragged me out to this,” you shouted to your friend Sara, leaned close to be heard over the noise. Your eyes flicker up to the dinky but oddly charming stage. “It’s not like I’m here for the same reason you are.”

It’s not that you didn’t enjoy alternative music, actually, you loved the rush and relief it gave you after a hard day at work or when you needed an adrenaline boost at the gym. But going to gigs? That was never really your thing. The preference for you was being sat in your bedroom, thinking with headphones on, rather than grimacing every time someone knocked into you or risking a drink getting spilt over you. You didn’t knock the culture; you just didn’t go very far out of your comfort zone often.

Sarah on the other hand? Despite being your friend she was the polar opposite, she was always the more outgoing one. The one that pushed you out of your comfort zone and made sure you always had fun wherever she dragged you to. But for all intents and purposes, and in her own words, she was a groupie.

The thrill she got from following bands she loved, chasing the music, and hooking up with someone along the way was unmatched for her, honestly? You adored her for it. The stories she shared about her escapades; the tours she hauled herself on, the wild nights, the explicit encounters in seedy bathrooms, were nothing short of thrilling. In a way, you lived vicariously through her adventures.

“Girl,” She leaned in as close as you, and yelled back, “When I tell you that you’ll love this band, trust me, not only are they talented but fuck, they are hot.” She cackled, glancing around the bar before she grabbed your arm and pointed to the stage door.

“See him over there?” she said, pointing toward a medium-length, white-haired guy who looked a little worse for wear as he chatted with someone by the side of the stage; just her type. “That’s Aegon. He’s the lead singer.”

Your lips parted to respond to her before she slapped your arm, and pointed just left of the lead singer.

“And over there? That’s Daeron,” she said with a sly giggle and a raised brow. “The drummer, shy and totally your type.” Sarah couldn’t help but tease, cooing at you with a dirty smirk on her red lips.

Following her gaze, you couldn’t help but purse your lips in appreciation. She wasn’t entirely wrong, Daeron did seem like your type. He wasn’t the tallest, but he was taller than the lead singer. His cropped white hair had a fluffy texture with curls on top, and his ears were kitted out with a plethora of piercings. He wore what you could only describe as a "slutty" tank top, arms on full display, paired with ripped black straight leg jeans. Everything about him screamed boy in the band. At the edge of the stage, he was lost in his rhythm, tapping his drumsticks on a practice pad with focused look.

“Are they all related or something,” You asked her, looking at Daeron intensely as the black-haired man who was speaking to Aegon wandered over to him next.

“Yes,” She nodded with a shit-eating grin, her eyes burning with some sort of desire, “There’s a guitarist too, Aemond, but he’s a bit no-nonsense with everything so you never see him until he goes on stage – their sister Helaena joins them as bass when they tour.” She added.

“So, they’re a family of musicians?” You raised your eyebrow apprehensively, giving her a strange look, “That’s a first.”

“Kinda hot,” she said, biting her lip with an amused glint in her eyes before shooting you a heated look. “Two brothers in one go? Now that’s my kind of night.” You could only shake your head at her, matching her amused expression.

“What’s their name again?” you asked, glancing at the stage’s fabric backdrop; a black flag with a red, cracked crown decorating the centre.

“Blood Princes,” she replied with a slight eye roll, grabbing your arm and tugging you toward the front of the crowd. She pushed forward with little regard for the glares thrown her way. “Bit of a silly name, but apparently, they’re descended from royalty or something,” she yelled back over her shoulder.

You let out a puff of air, grimacing at the annoyed looks Sarah earned as she elbowed her way through the crowd. While the lights began to dim as the last stragglers filtered into the bar, and the noise of the crowd swelled. Determined as ever, Sara made it her life’s mission to reach the barrier at the very front.

The stage was lower than what you’d see at a big venue, leaving no doubt that this was all part of her plan. If she could get front and centre, so could her flirty attitude, and she’d make sure one of the brothers noticed. It was clear she had her sights set on turning tonight into another of her wild stories.

You followed her reluctantly, shuffling through the crowd as Sara carried forward with pure energy and eagerness. The closer you got to the front, the more you could start to feel the heat of the crowd, the mix of raw excitement snapping in the air as the yelling increased. The air felt thick with incense and the promise of something about to happen.

By the time you had shoved your way to the barrier, she was practically vibrating with excitement, her smoky eyes scanning the side of the stage for any sign of the brothers. You couldn't help but chuckle under your breath. She was a force of nature when she got this determined (or horny).

The room grew darker, and the chatter quieted, replaced by the rising tone of a guitar. The anticipation in the air felt electric, and if the atmosphere was anything to go by, then these brothers probably knew how to put on a show. You couldn’t deny you were caught up in the feeling that Sara felt, that raw charge of the night and the want to just let go and enjoy yourself.

Despite yourself, you found your heart racing, the bobbing of silver-haired men on the side and the crowd starting to chant, topped off and heightened by Sara's infectious energy.

It was like a fate when the lights cut out completely, plunging the room into darkness. The screams of the crowd collectively pierced the air, waiting for the first notes to break the silence.

“Dragon’s Gate,” A smooth timber of who you assumed was Aegon pulsed out the speaker - a deep, resonating sound that seemed to shook the air around you. The crowd erupted into cheers, and the lights flashed to life in a red hue pointing to the crown, and the sound of high hats tapping filled the air, “I want to fucking HEAR YOU.” He screamed into the mic.

The band appeared on stage in a blur of black and leather, shadows shifting as they settled into their positions. Daeron, the drummer, was the first you spotted, his hands a blur of movement as he tapped the edge of his cymbals with precision. Aegon, took centre stage, his presence magnetic as he grabbed the microphone with a casual confidence.

The sound hit you like a wave and the drums thrummed in your chest as the guitars screamed through the air. Aegon’s voice, gravelly yet melodic, cut through that chaos. The crowd surged as one, a mass of bodies moving with the rhythm, drawn together in the shared euphoria of the moment.

It was at that moment, from your spot by the side of the stage, that your gaze landed on the other brother, the one you hadn’t seen before.

Aemond.

You weren’t sure if it was the crowd or the way his eyes locked onto yours, but you were breathless as you took in the sight of him. Tall, lithe, and utterly commanding, he moved right in front of your line of vision, his presence pulling you in like a magnet.

Like his brothers, Aemond was dressed head to toe in rich black. His t-shirt clung to his body like a second skin, while a heavily decorated leather jacket hung casually over his shoulders; spotted with studs and patches that you didn’t understand. His jeans were tight and ripped, accentuating every sculpted muscle in his skinny legs, and topped off with a heavy looking buckle. His hair, much longer than both of his brothers, was straight and swayed with each nod of his head like rivers of liquid silver spilling over his shoulders.

What stood out the most was the faint red scar that ran across his eye, its presence flickering with each flash of light, yet always there. His eye seemed largely unaffected, milky white and probably not useable conventionally, but the slash only seemed to enhance his features rather than detract from them, adding a raw intensity to his face that made it all the more striking.

And his hands? God, his hands.

They were perfectly large and veined, like they’d been carved by the gods themselves, made to pluck strings. His bony fingers grasped onto the neck of his guitar and moved up and down in a way that told you that he had rough skin.

Something was captivating about him, something that drew your attention even as the chaos of the crowd swirled around you with the sounds of screams and shoves. It was like every movement he made seemed deliberate, as though he knew exactly how to command the room without a word; if the screaming of girls around your side of the stage was anything to go by. His eyes flicked toward you again as they started to pick up with the first song, it was as if the noise of the crowd faded for a split second, and it was just the two of you in that electric space.

Aemond didn’t look away, his gaze steady and piercing, and you felt an inexplicable shiver lick down your spine. It was like he wanted to eat you. You could almost hear the music beneath the pounding bass, its rhythm syncing with the beating of your heart. You were no longer just watching a show, you were completely caught in a moment with this man, completely aware of how he seemed to take up every bit of the space around you.

He gave a small, almost imperceptible smirk, and you couldn’t tell if it was meant for the crowd or you. But it didn’t matter.

In that brief exchange, something shifted. You couldn’t look away, and neither could he. The connection, electric and silent, buzzed between you like an unspoken dare. The music throbbed louder, the crowd's energy surging again, but now, you were focused entirely on him. Aegon's screams blending into the background.

The moment seemed to stretch beyond moral time; each second dragging on as the intensity between your gazes grew. The music swirled around you, but it felt distant now as Sara jumped beside you completely unaware.

It was fading into the background as Aemond’s presence consumed your attention, a warming feeling building in your core just from his very eyes. His eyes never left yours, and with each beat, it was as though he was drawing you in deeper, challenging you to break the gaze between you.

The crowd surged around you, people moshing and shoving with an energy you didn’t possess, but you stood still, feeling a strange mix of anticipation and raw desire for a man you didn’t know. You could see his fingers moving on the guitar, effortlessly sliding across the strings with a grace that made it hard to look away.

But it wasn’t just his playing; it was the way his whole body moved with the music, the way he seemed so at ease on the stage, yet undeniably aware of every person in the room; he was there only for himself.

Every moment passing felt like hours. And then, without breaking eye contact, he crouched to the edge of the stage and leaned in slightly, his expression darkening in a way that made your breath hitch; his fingers moving at a speed you didn’t comprehend as he rattled off some solo. The crowd roared around you at him, but all you could hear was the pounding of your heartbeat in your ears.

With a flushed face, you could only look him up and down as Aemond smirked again, this time broader, as if he’d won some silent game between you. You couldn’t tell if he was inviting you in or daring you to look away, but either way, you knew you were already lost in it.

You knew you were fucked.

The rest of the show passed in a blur, all with Aemond’s face etched into your mind; the unspoken tension between you two palpable and electric, intoxicating even. But it was as intense as it was intoxicating, leaving you with a building warmth deep in your core – a sensation you weren’t sure you’d ever felt from a singular person before. It wasn’t just the music or the atmosphere causing it; it was something more primal, a raw need charging between two people who hadn’t even exchanged a word.

Aemond’s gaze never wavered, and neither did yours. The connection was undeniable, like an unspoken promise of more hanging in the air. Every glance, every flick of his fingers on the guitar, seemed to deepen the pull between you. The crowd around you faded, the noise blurring into the background as if the world had narrowed to just the two of you.

When the final song hit and for a brief, fleeting moment, Aemond’s eyes locked with yours one last time as he handed his guitar off to one of the techs. He held your gaze with an intensity that made the air thick and heavy like something was about to snap. The moment was charged but brief as he roamed over you with his eyes before disappearing off the side of the stage, leaving you standing there, breathless, wanting more.

As the lights came up, Sara turned to you with a grin so smug it could only mean she did, in fact, see the whole thing. Her head whipped around so quickly, much to the chagrin of the man behind her who got slapped with her hair, it was a miracle she didn’t get dizzy. Before you could react, her manicured hand was clutching your arm, yanking you closer.

“Girl, what was that?” she demanded, shaking you slightly for emphasis like she couldn’t contain herself. “And don’t you dare tell me ‘nothing.’ I saw the way you were making ‘fuck me’ eyes at him.” She widened her eyes for emphasis.

“I—I don’t know,” you stammered, still a little breathless from the intensity of it all. Your eyes briefly glanced back at where he had just stood on stage. “We just… locked eyes, and I couldn’t look away.”

Sara squealed so loudly that a few people nearby shot her odd looks, but she didn’t care. Her face was one on of pure elated happiness,

“Are you gonna fuck him? Please tell me you are,” she asked, bouncing on the spot like a giddy child. “I mean, you picked the hardest one in the band to crack, but girl, you have to,” she said, her eyes wide and full of determination.

You gave her an incredulous look. “Sara,”

“What,” she shot back, shameless. “You know I’m right. That was electric, babe. You can’t let a moment with a man like that go to waste.”

If someone were to stare at you right now, they’d witness your mouth opening and closing like a confused fish – completely unable to tell your best friend otherwise. It was comical, and it was embarrassing because she was right. If the burning in your core didn’t speak to how much you wanted him, the fact that he ensnared your gaze without even mumbling a single word to you was something written out of a shitty book. You knew nothing about him; besides the 3 things Sara told you and the fact that visually he might be the most gorgeous men you’ve ever seen.

It wasn’t like one-night stands were completely off the table - you indulged now and then, just like anyone else. You were an adult woman with needs, after all. But sleeping with a musician? That sounded like a recipe for absolute disaster.

Charming, unpredictable, and fleeting all swirled around your head. Musicians were the people who lived in the moment, burned bright, and moved on just as quickly. A one-night stand with a regular person was one thing, a mutual, fleeting connection that was understood and beneficial, but with a musician? It felt like opening the door to a mess of complications. Your face internally grimacing at the idea of blurred boundaries, ego trips, and the lingering aftermath of knowing you were likely just another fleeting memory for them.

You rolled your eyes, but the heat in your cheeks betrayed you. “It’s not like I can just walk up to him and—”

“Oh, yes, you can!” Sara interrupted, her grip on your arm tightening as she gave you a look that could burn through steel. “He was looking at you, not just glancing, babe. That was full-on-undressing-you-with-his-eyes energy.”

“Sara,” you hissed, glancing around at the dispersing crowd, it was unlikely anyone cared. “He’s probably already gone backstage or something.”

Sara could only give you a look that called you an idiot on various levels, her eyes fluttering like you’d said the stupidest thing in the world to her.

Sara snorted and crossed her arms. “They always head to the bar upstairs after the show, mingle with the crowd or whatever – it’s usually invite only or guestlist, but I know the bartender here, he’ll vouch for us.”

Your stomach flipped. “What?”

She smirked, pointing toward the other side of the room, where the stairs that led up to the bar stood – two men with beards guarding it with a passive look on their face. She could only turn and grin like she’d won the lottery, her confidence practically oozing.

“Relax, babe. I’ve done this a million times. We’ll get in, no problem.” She said smugly, linking arms with you and practically dragging you to the stairs.

The two bouncers looked intimidating but uninterested, scanning the dispersing crowd like they’d rather be anywhere else. Your stomach churned with a mix of nerves and excitement.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” you asked her, though you knew it was a futile question. Once Sara had a plan and sex on the brain, she was unstoppable.

“Good idea? Probably not,” she admitted with a laugh, linking her arm through yours and pulling you toward the stairs. “But a fun one? Abso-fucking-lutely.” She grinned.

You sighed but didn’t resist her as she led the way, her platform heels thudding against the sticky floor. Deep in your gut you knew this was a terrible idea, possibly even the worst idea of hers you could have gotten involved in, but there was a depraved part of your brain that was curious to see if your little staring contest would go anywhere.

When you eventually reached the base of the stairs, you were clearly not the only people itching to get up into the private afterparty, a gaggle of women surrounding the bouncers like hungry zombies.

Sara, being the champ that she was, merely elbowed her way in again, much like the gig crowd, and it was in a blink of an eye before one of the bouncers held up a hand to stop you going further.

“Private area,” he said flatly, giving both of you a once-over.

Sara didn’t miss a beat. She leaning in and flashing that bright smile she pulled when she wanted her way, a gentle purr to her tone as she dropped the name of someone, probably the bartender, like they were old friends. “He said it’s fine.”

On of the bouncers raised an eyebrow, glancing at his companion, who gave a barely perceptible nod; the lack of care on his face. “Alright. Go on up,” he said, stepping aside.

Your eyes widened as Sara tugged you up the stairs. “How do you do that?” you whispered, in awe as she dragged you up the stairs, your eyes glancing behind you to see the hordes of unhappy women at your easy entry.

She shrugged with a grin, jogging up the stairs like her life was dependant on it. “You gotta make them believe what you’re telling them by believing it yourself and somehow it works.”

The upstairs bar was smaller and far more exclusive, with low lighting, posters covering the walls from all the bands that had played there, and a tamer hum of the crowd. The air was tinged with a mix of lingering incense smoke, drinks, and something faintly metallic, it wasn’t off-putting in the slightest though.

It was quieter up here, the crowd dwindled to a select few – mostly friends, fans, and stage crew. The hum of voices was more subdued, like a white noise of just people around you with no discernible conversation being picked up; a stark contrast to the previous frenzied yelling from down the stairs.

The first thing you noticed was the band itself, scattered throughout the room like stars in their own sky. Each member was absorbed in their own little bubble of admirers around them, each with the casual confidence they exuded making them magnetic even in this more relaxed setting.

You could see Sara perk up from beside you as she dragged you to the bar; Aegon, holding court further down the bar, a lazy grin plastered on his face as he entertained a small group of women who all seemed to be fawning for his attention.

“You going to go over to him?” You ask her softly, nudging her with your elbow as you both lean on the bar, gesturing to the bartender for two ciders, “I mean, you look like you’re about to burst from excitement.” There’s was teasing tilt to your voice

“You mean am I going to fight off the 7 girls around him?” She rolled her eyes softly, fishing in her tiny bag for her compact and lipstick, “To which I’ll tell you, maybe, I’ll see how I feel – maybe I’ll go for one of the other brothers,” Her eyes flicked back to you with a smirk shining in them.

At her jest, you turned and looked for the other brothers – only to find Daeron stood near a corner booth, shyly sipping his drink while someone in a leather jacket tried to strike up a conversation; shy for a drummer.

Sara’s voice pulled you from your thoughts, her smirk only growing as she dragged her lipstick across her mouth with an exaggerated flourish. “That is,” she added casually, snapping the compact shut with a satisfying click, “unless someone has dibs.”

Her words hung in the air, pointed and playful. You glanced back at her, and the teasing sparkle in her eyes made your cheeks flush.

“Does that someone?” she asked, arching a perfectly sculpted brow, her tone light but loaded with suggestion.

She knew exactly what she was doing and she was stupidly happy about it, and even worse, she wasn’t wrong. The thought of “dibs” made your mind flash back to Aemond, his intense gaze, the sharp line of his jaw, the way his hands moved as if they were an extension of his will.

Could you handle if she decided to sleep with him? You didn’t know him, so you shouldn’t care, and Sara would never do that to you anyway. But, there was a burning in your chest at the thought of someone doing it. An ugly and nauseous feeling that clawed at your oesophagus, tearing into it and leaking something putrid into your soul.

You cleared your throat, the tight feeling suddenly like hand around your airway, fumbling pathetically for a response. “I mean, I just…” You trailed off, trying to come up with something, anything, that didn’t sound like an admission.

Sara just grinned, completely unbothered by your flustered state. “You’re cute when you’re nervous, like a skittish kitten,” she said, drawing out the sounds with a knowing lilt.

She tucked her compact back into her bag and adjusted her top. “Look, all I’m saying is, if you want to make a move, now’s your chance. Guys like that? They don’t stick around long; and they certainly don’t stick around alone for long.”

She was right and you hated it, her words sinking in and hitting a nerve. The cider you had ordered was cold in your hand as you leant on the bar, glancing around for any sign him. A nervous sip being taken at the thought.

Your breath caught when you saw him.

Standing off to the darker side of the bar, well-removed from the centre of attention, Aemond seemed completely at ease yet undeniably commanding in his chosen space. His tall frame leaned casually against the wall like he didn’t really care to be there; his fingers curled around a glass of dark liquid as he chatted quietly to someone, a lady with dark hair. The faint light caught his silver strands and the sharp planes of his face, making him look almost otherworldly in such a normal place.

The woman with him laughed softly, her voice barely audible over the murmur of the crowd but you caught it; it was womanly and warm, but Aemond’s reaction to her was muted – a polite nod, and brief flicker of what you could call smile that didn’t quite reach his eye. His focus seemed elsewhere, like he was merely going through the motions of the conversation.

It wasn’t until he caught your eye, that his demeanour shifted. His posture straightened subtly, his head tilting ever so slightly as his eye locked onto yours; a nod so subtle you weren't sure if you caught it, a silent beckon to ‘come closer’. The woman beside him seemed to notice, however, her own gaze darting toward you with mild curiosity before she offered him a quick goodbye and slipped away into the crowd.

You hesitated for the briefest moment, your heart pounding in your chest, Sara was close to you watching the whole thing with a smug look on her face. The feel of her sharp elbow digging into your side snapped you out of your stare, your head whipping to look at her with wide eyes.

“Go,” she said, her voice firm but there was an air encouragement under it.

You glanced back at her, your heart racing, and then turned toward Aemond, “I don’t want to just leave you on your own.”

If she rolled her eyes any harder, they would drop right out her skull, “Alone? Babe, I’m going home with someone, and you will too – now go.”

You hesitated for the briefest moment, your heart pounding in your chest, before your feet carried you forward almost on instinct. The closer you got, the more palpable his presence became, as though he commanded the very air around him. His gaze never strayed from you the whole time you walked over; steady and unrelenting, it was like he had all the time in the world to wait for you.

It was flattering, but it was like he was enraptured by watching a small animal about to get pounced on, his eye strong to the point that you could have sworn that the lighting made it look like a void.

When you finally stopped in front of him, he was leaned back slightly against the wall, like another frame on the gallery that was posters and signatures of past gigs. He was perched there like a gargoyle, and the way you’d heard people talk about him, it wasn’t that bold of an assumption to make that he most likely loved to watch. His tall frame both relaxed and coiled, like a snake waiting to strike. The smirk that tugged at the corner of his lips was subtle, almost imperceptible, but it sent a shiver of heat through you.

"You found me," he said, his voice low and rich, carrying effortlessly over the low hum of the room. “I was wondering if staring was really all you could do.”

"I was looking for you?" you replied softly, trying to match his indifferent composure.

“Unless you stare at everyone with eyes like that…” His smirk deepened, and he took a slow sip from his glass before answering. "…I’d like to think so."

The air between you felt charged, the buzz of the room fading into a distant hum. Up close, his features were even more striking. The faint scar cutting across his eye seemed to catch the dim light in a way that made it all the more mesmerising, and the intensity of his stare was enough to make your breath catch in your throat. There was an oddity about his face, not in the sense that he wasn’t gorgeous, but that he had the features of someone that you could trace with your fingers, memories every little bump, and never meet someone like that again.

“You decided to come up,” he said, his voice smooth and quiet, like a secret meant just for you, "You’re not like the usual crowd, you stand out a bit more." he said after a beat, his eye sweeping over you in a way that felt like he was picking you apart. Judging your worth.

You couldn’t tell if it was malicious or just curiosity, but you glanced down at your clothing regardless, it wasn’t anything as outlandish as what Sara wore but it still fit the vibe; a black denim shorts and tight silk top, with a thicker leather jacket tossed over it. It was appropriate for the situation, even if the tag was digging into your side and you longed to shed it like a second skin.

"Is that supposed to be a compliment?" You murmured softly, your eyes glancing back up at him with a raised brow.

He tilted his head, considering you for a moment, his eyes openly sweeping over you. "It is."

“Bold,” You tut softly, your eyes sweeping over his face, “Do you usually stare down women in the crowd? Or am I special?”

Aemond's lips twitched into a faint smirk, the kind that felt practiced yet somehow still genuine, like he knew what he could do to people. He didn’t answer immediately, instead letting the tension simmer in the space between you. His free hand coming up to touch your hair, brushing the strands that were hanging down softly, twirling a piece of it around his finger. It sent a shiver down your spine as your eyes flicked to watch his hand, the subtle jingle of his bracelets, before looking back at him – his eye staring at you intensely.

“Special,” he finally said, the single word carrying enough weight to make your chest seize. “If that makes you any more comfortable...” He trailed off waiting for your name.

You gave it as you swallowed hard, the hum of the room growing even more distant, like he was pulling you into his world and the two of you were caught in a bubble apart from everything else.

“Well,” you managed to choke out, your voice steady despite the flutter in your chest, “I hope you have more to offer than pretty words and staring, Aemond.” You surprised yourself with the boldness of your own response, the hint of a challenge laced in your tone.

His smirk deepened, the corner of his mouth quirking in a way that was maddening, his free hand dropped back to his side, the one that was holding his half empty glass placing it off to the side as he held your stare.

He liked long silences, and you couldn’t tell if that was hot or if it was going to be infuriating. You watched him with rapt attention as he reached out to you, his fingers lightly holding the edge of your jacket as he tugged you a bit closer to him. His form towering of you as you looked up; his hair creating a curtain as he looked down.

“Oh, I assure you,” he murmured, his voice dropping lower, “there’s much more than words where that came from.”

All your mouth could do was part as his used the soft hold on your jacket to switch places with him, his eyes casting around the room before tilting his chin to look down at you; curtains of starlight hair moving as he crowded you back into the wall.

Aemond’s presence was overwhelming, deliberate.

The air between you building and thickening quicker than you could ever imagine, the space between charged with something unspoken but undeniable. The sharp scent of whatever he had been drinking lingered on his breath, mixing with the faint smokiness wafting off his clothing, and it made your head swim. He was delectable.

His fingers, still hooked on the edge of your jacket, tightened just enough to pull you slightly closer, enough to make your breath hitch. Aemond wasn’t just touching fabric, he was anchoring you, claiming the space between you both as his own.

“You seem at a loss for words,” Aemond murmured, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips. His voice was velvet, softer than you’d imagine by just looking at him. It teasing but edged with something deeper.

You swallowed softly, his eyes watching with rapt attention as your throat bobbed, “Not lost,” you managed, though your voice betrayed you, softer than you wanted.

His eye flickered over your face, reading you, dissecting every tiny shift in expression. Then, with agonising slowness, he lifted one hand to trace the line of your jaw with his thumb, barely there in its graze, but enough to make you shiver all the same.

“I like you like this,” he admitted, voice dipping lower, dragging over your senses. “You’re like a doe.”

A sharp breath left you, chest rising and falling as he leaned in just enough that his lips nearly brushed yours, but not quite. The heat of him, the sheer intensity in the way he watched you, was enough to set every nerve in your body alight.

“Come out for a smoke with me?” He hummed softly but his words were edged with other intentions, so soft that if he wasn’t right in front of you then the words would be lost to the bar, “If you want to of course…”

“Okay.” you whispered, trying for steady, though your fingers curled against the wall behind you. “Just a smoke, right?.”

Aemond’s smirk deepened, but this time, his restraint frayed. His hand slid lower, tracing down your side before gripping your waist, firm, possessive.

“Maybe.”

And with that, he closed the last sliver of space between you, pulling your hand from behind you.

The night air did little to cool the heat still pulsing under your skin. Every nerve in your body was taut as you stood beside Aemond on the curb, waiting. The street was quiet, save for the occasional distant hum of a car, but all you could hear was the faint rush of your own breath, watching it even as it turned to white smoke in the cold air, coupled with the unsteady thrum of your pulse. You had watched him take his phone out as he tugged you outside, pulling up an app to call a car.

Sara’s face has been absolutely ecstatic as she caught your eye leaving, his body perched on the lap of someone that wasn’t her main conquest, a subtle tongue in cheek push telling you that she was hoping you’d get that and then some tonight.

Aemond exhaled a slow stream of smoke, the ember of his cigarette glowing bright before fading into the darkness. He held it loosely between his fingers, rolling it casually like he had no thoughts in his head, his other hand shoved in his coat pocket.

Despite the casual stance, there was nothing relaxed about him. His presence was deep, brimming with unspoken intent, and the weight of his gaze was heavy when it flickered to you. Sending a fresh wave of anticipation curling through your stomach.

He smirked, lips twitching around the cigarette. “You’re quiet.”

You swallowed, shifting slightly under his stare. “So are you.”

His eye glowed in the low light. “I enjoy a good silence.”

You let out a soft scoff, but there was no real bite to it. Your pulse had yet to settle from earlier, from the way he had pressed you against the wall, the way he had touched you like he knew exactly what you needed before you even did. And now, just standing next to him, you felt like you were on the edge of something again, teetering between restraint and surrender.

Aemond took another drag before flicking the cigarette to the ground, crushing it beneath his boot with slow, deliberate movements. When he turned toward you fully, it felt like the air between you shifted, tightening like a drawn wire.

His fingers brushed under your chin, tilting your face up to meet his, his hands a sharp contrast to the freezing air. The touch was light, almost teasing, but it set you alight all the same. His thumb traced the corner of your mouth, lingering for a breath before he spoke.

“You’ll come home with me,” Aemond murmured, not a question, but a quiet, guaranteed statement.

You should have said something, taken a page out of Sara’s book and teased him, made him work for it. But your breath caught when he took a step closer, closing what little space remained between you.

The cab pulled up, but neither of you moved. Not yet.

Aemond’s fingers slid down, grazing your throat, pressing just enough to make your breath hitch. He tilted his head, his lips hovering just above yours, so achingly close you could feel the heat of him. The white of your breaths mixing in the air like smoke.

“Tell me you want this.”

Your fingers curled into the fabric of his leather jacket, holding on like it was the only thing keeping your knees from buckling. Your heart pounded, a slow, aching thud.

“I want this,” you breathed.

Aemond’s smirk deepened, his thumb teasingly pressing harder on your throat.

“Good girl.”

And with that, he placed a hand firm at your back, guiding you into the cab, into the inevitable.

The elevator ride up to his place was a steamy blur of tension, the kind that buzzed under your skin and refused to let up like you were in a shower room and all you could see were shapes of body and heat.

Aemond was standing beside you the whole time, his towering presence taking up more space than it should, his hands hanging casually down by his sides as if he weren’t fully aware of the effect he had on you - or perhaps he was too aware.

Every bump of the elevator, every jostle of it going up, has his hand brushing against yours; the warmth of it tickling your skin like whispered promises. All while he stood there, every so often looking at you with a look in his eye, a hunger so deep you began to wonder if you were about to be his prey rather than his hook-up.

He was strange, you had assumed he’d jump on you the second he got you alone, pushing up against the rickety metal of the elevator and devour you whole. His tongue feasting on you each patch of flesh at a time.

The silence was muggy, a heat bubbling under the surface that was only broken by the gentle hum of the elevator. There was a need in you that could barely stop you from stealing glances at him. Eyes appreciating him in the stark light of the elevator, seeing him in this light, was completely different from the bar.

There was a delicious sense of want every time you smoothed your eyes over the faint curve of his lips, a pout that seemed permanently etched on his face in a way that made you want to see his lips move in any way that you could, or the way his skin had blemishes that didn’t take away from his beauty. Dozens of little moles and freckles dotted all over his face and neck, all of them you itched to trace your lips over.

It was suffocating, and you imaged if lust between you two had a smoke there would be a lavender haze filling the space; it was mind-numbing but also filled you with such a need that you were curious if there was a possibility of having him take you right against the metal walls.

If he felt the same, he hid it well, almost too well that a small insecure part of you wondered if he was merely playing a trick on you. That the pout you begged to kiss would sneer and tell you to leave, that you were stupid to follow him home.

You knew nothing of Aemond, just a few mumbled words between friends that he was elusive and rather hard to crack and that he was devastatingly gorgeous. But gorgeous men just shouldn’t be trusted, couldn’t be trusted.

When the doors eventually slid open to his home, the view hit you first. The entire far wall of his apartment was glass, lavished with a thick black blind at the top. It revealed the glittering Kings Landing skyline that stretched out infinitely beneath the night sky.

It was a renovated loft apartment, and it was truly a reflection of his style. Edgy yet inviting. Exposed brick and steel beams gave the space an industrial edge, softened by warm ambient lighting and plush furnishings. Worn walnut wood that was glaringly vintage, and sleek leather pieces tied the design together, everything looked lived in but not messy.

Deep forest green and royal blue textiles added a sense of depth and luxury that you didn’t think he’d care for with his taste in music. There was amusement bubbling in you at the carefully curated collection of music memorabilia adorned the shelves, nestled between well-loved books, with framed art, vinyl covers, and concert posters punctuating the walls in sleek black frames.

From your place at the door, you could see that he had a few guitars leaning on a rack by the window, a large turntable next to it that blended well with everything. Dozens of records lining the bottom, all in what seemed to be an organised fashion, it all somehow felt like an extension of him – calculated, precise, personal without giving too much away and just a touch intimidating.

It was enough to make you even forget for a second that he was with you by the door, “You like it?” he asked, his voice low like he didn’t want to disrupt your thoughts, but there was a glimmer of something in his tone.

“It’s... breathtaking,” you admitted, eyes flicking to him briefly, the words slipping out before you could even second guess them.

He was watching you back, his hand outstretched to dump his keys in a random bowl, his jacket draped casually over the back of his breakfast bar stool. Leaving him in just a fitted black shirt that did nothing to hide the sharp lines of his frame.

“It has its moments,” he said with a very hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips, stepping closer as he came up to your side; his footsteps quiet yet deliberate and his hand hovering over the base of your spine. “Though I’d argue the view inside is even better tonight.”

You rolled your eyes, though a faint warmth flooding your face. “Bold, are we?”

“I’ve been accused of worse.” He hummed amused, the faint warmth of his presence brushing against your back, grounding you that he was real, “Take a seat, I want to talk to you about something.”

Your chest seized at his words, turning to face him fully. He still smelt delectable; smoky like incense and cigarettes and earthy like the dew on an oak tree, but there was an underlying sweetness to it, a drinkable sweetness, his proximity making your pulse quicken.

God, you wanted to lick his neck and taste him.

The tension between the two of you felt sharper now, like a taut string of one of his guitars waiting to snap. “Talk?”

He nodded, his gaze steady but unreadable, though the faintest hint of amusement flickered in his eye as his lips quivered with something at the corners.

"Yes, talk," he said with a faint drawl, his chin jugging in the direction of his couch, his tone teasing but with a seriousness that didn’t match the smirk tugging at his lips.

The loss of warmth as he stepped away from you felt wrong, his hand brushing against your back as he moved toward the leather sectional couch in the centre of the room. A worn and used, soft-looking blanket thrown over the back.

Your heart was still racing as you followed, an invisible string tugging you along with him. There wasn’t anything in you that was scared of him, but your eyes flickered around the space anyway. It all felt like a snapshot of a world he rarely let people into, and for a moment, you wondered how many others had stood where you were now.

Did he let people wear down his floorboards often or did he keep that door firmly locked?

As Aemond settled into the couch, you saw the same effortless confidence he carried everywhere else, one arm draped across the back, the other resting on his knee; his rings still shining in the low light, the sapphire eyes of the dragon head staring off to nothing on his middle finger.

It was faint but there was something under the surface of him, a nervousness that he was trying to hide, his fingers tapping against his knee before his pointer finger rubbed against the side of his thumb, something in his body calling to pick at the skin out of habit. He was fighting it though, a coolness of his face as he gestured to the seat beside him, his expression softening just enough to make the situation feel less intense than he was presenting it as.

You hesitated only a second before sitting, the leather cool beneath you.

"So," you said, tucking your legs under yourself and turning slightly to face him much to his amusement, "what exactly did you want to talk about?"

He leaned in slightly as he regarded you and got comfortable with you. Up close, the sharpness of his features was even more striking, the hard lines of his jaw that had your fingers twitching in the want to run across each hard line, memorising it for your memory bank.

The glint of something unreadable in his eye, and the faint scar that struct through the other one only seemed to enhance his magnetism. The scared eye was milky, not as vibrant as the other one, but it was still beautiful, the hint of blue that was still there, like cornflower petals in a milky bath.

“You know why you’re here, right?” he said softly, a faint fry to his voice with how quiet he was speaking to you; quiet but firm seemed to be the best way to sum him up.

You blinked at that, your stomach doing a flip at the soft intensity of his tone. “That sounds a little ominous,” you said, trying to keep your voice light despite the rapid thrum of your heartbeat, your fingers nervously picking at the fabric of your tights.

His lips twitched into a faint smirk as he regarded you, a soft tut from his pouted lips.

 “Just answer the question,” he huffed softly, leaning back again into the corner of the couch casually, and observing you with that same measured intensity. “Do you know why you’re here”

You tilted your head, studying him for a moment, his demeanour casual but there was something else to it. “I’m under the assumption we’re going to sleep together, that’s all.”

Aemond’s smirk broadened at that but there was something behind it now, humour, sure, but also something sharper, something more intent. His fingers toying with the rings on his right hand, the subtle gleam of metal catching the dim light.

“Clever girl,” He purred softly, the clench in your stomach almost instant at his tone, “I want to lay some ground rules first.” His tone low and steady, carrying a weight that made your pulse quicken even more.

You arched a brow, refusing to be daunted by the intensity of his gaze, though your heart raced all the same. "Ground rules?” you countered; your voice softer now.

His eye flicked over your face, studying you with the same scrutiny that made you feel like he could see far deeper into you than you were comfortable with.

"I think you’ve gathered, I’m a rather… unconventional person," he admitted after a moment, his voice taking on a huskier edge, "I don’t exactly make a habit of bringing women home, for good reason."

You leaned back slightly, crossing your arms over your chest as you regarded him. "Care to elaborate?"

Aemond’s smirk softened into something subtler, a faint curve of his lips that hinted at a side of him you weren’t sure he showed to many.

"I don’t mess around," he said simply his hand reaching out again to move some of your hair out the way, though there was a flicker of something darker in his tone. "If all I wanted was a warm body, I wouldn’t have brought you here, I would have fucked you in that bar and been done with you."

The weight of his words settled over you, heavy and charged; the lust had developed into something more, something darker, but not something unsettling, dare you say it even furthered your interest. The air between you felt impossibly still, like when the forest went silent for a predator in its wake, waiting for what would come next.

"So, what is it, then?" you asked, your voice quieter now, your tone giving way to genuine curiosity. "Why am I here?"

His gaze was cast to your lips as his lips perked up into what you could call a smile, a small huff of air blowing out his nose as he scanned his way back to your eyes, “What if I told you I was into a little more... Intense things than a throwaway one night stand?”

The air between you seemed to thrum, your pulse quickening at his words. There was something deliberate in the way he said it, slow and measured, as though he was testing your reaction, gauging how far he could push before you might pull back.

You tilted your head, your curiosity was now undeniable. “Intense?” you echoed; your voice soft but steady. “You’re going to have to be a little more specific than that, Aemond.”

His lips quirked into a faint smirk, but his gaze remained fixed on yours, unflinching. “You’re such a precious little thing,” he murmured, his voice low, “and I can’t help but have a soft spot for tearing apart precious little things”

You blinked at that, both intrigued and slightly wary. “Meaning?”

Aemond’s smirk deepened, a glint of something heated flashing in his eye. “Meaning,” he cooed softly, his voice carrying the faintest edge of a threat, though it was tempered by the unmistakable pull of desire in his tone. “I won’t play nice with you sweetheart; I want to make you cry… If you’ll let me of course”

There was a beat of silence that passed over the two of you at that, your heart thudding in your chest like a hammer on an anvil, the thrill of his words coursing through you as you tried to maintain your composure.

 “I think I can handle that,” you replied with a gentle breath.

He leaned forward again, closing the space between you, his hand brushing against your knee with deliberate slowness. “Is that so?” he murmured, his tone teasing but laced with something darker, something that made your skin tingle.

You swallowed hard, your gaze locked on his, the intensity in his words drawing you in even as they sent a shiver down your spine. “I guess you’ll have to show me,” you said softly, your voice steady despite the rapid beat of your heart.

For a moment, Aemond said nothing, his eye searching yours as though he were trying to unravel you, piece by piece. Then, with deliberate care, he leaned closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, “Be sure you mean that, sweetheart, I’m not just going to hold you gently and hum into you like some soft puppy.”

Your breath hitched at the feeling of his lips so close, the weight of his words settling over you like a tangible thing. There was no mistaking the warning in his tone, nor the promise. He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, his gaze sharp, unyielding, and entirely intoxicating. The warmth of his hand lingered on your knee, his touch deliberate but not overbearing, like he was waiting for you to make the next move.

The room felt impossibly still, the quiet stretching between you both like a strong ready to snap. You tried to steady your breathing, though it felt like your lungs had forgotten how to work properly under the weight of his intensity.

“You seem sure that I’ll regret it,” you murmured, your voice low but steady.

Aemond’s lips curved into something resembling a smile, but it wasn’t soft - it was sharp, calculated, and laced with amusement.

“I’m not trying to rattle you,” he said, his voice a soft drawl that sent a shiver down your spine. “I’m giving you the chance to leave if you wish.”

The meaning behind his words wasn’t lost on you, and yet you felt rooted in place, unable to walk away even if you wanted to. There was something about him, his presence, his mystery, the dark promise in his tone, that made it impossible to look anywhere but at him.

“And if I stay?” you asked, your voice quieter now, the question carrying more weight than you intended, your noses brushing as you turned your head to look at him. The gaze was intense and heavy, the breaths being passed between you, sharing some kind of charged air.

Aemond leaned in again, his lips brushing against your ear, his voice low and deliberate. “If you stay,” he whispered, “You need to tell me your safe word, baby.”

The words sent a thrill down your spine, your body caught between the undeniable pull of his presence and the weight of what he was suggesting. The way he said it - low, deliberate, almost tender, only added to the magnetic tension that wrapped itself around the two of you, binding you in place.

Your lips parted slightly, your breath catching as you tried to form a coherent response. “Safe word?” you echoed, your voice barely more than a whisper, laced with curiosity and just a hint of nervousness.

He leaned back just enough to look into your eyes, his expression calm yet charged, like a predator toying with its prey. “I told you,” He said, his tone measured but firm, “I’m not like the men you’ve probably been with before. I need to know you’re prepared before we go any further.”

You swallowed hard, the intensity of his gaze locking you in place. “And what happens if I don’t give you one?” you asked, a faint challenge in your tone, though your heart pounded in your chest.

Aemond’s lips twitched into a smirk, his thumb brushing lightly over your knee.

“Then you walk away,” he said simply, though his voice carried an edge that made it clear he wasn’t bluffing.

“Because this…” he gestured between the two of you, the space that felt like it was crackling with electricity “…isn’t something I take lightly. And neither should you.”

You hesitated, your mind racing as you tried to process the weight of his words. There was no denying the allure of him, the intoxicating pull that made you want to step into his world no matter how dangerous it might be. But there was also something comforting in his seriousness, in the way he framed this not as a game, but as something far more deliberate, far more intimate.

After a moment, you tilted your head, “Mercy,” you said softly, the word slipping from your lips with surprising ease. “That’s my safe word.”

Aemond’s smirk softened into something almost reverent, his hand sliding up to cup your face, his thumb brushing lightly over your cheek.

“Good girl,” he murmured, the words sending a shiver through you. “That’s all I needed to hear.”

The praise, quiet and deliberate, settled over you like a blanket, making your pulse race in a way that was equal parts exhilarating and grounding. You barely had time to process it before he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that was slow, deliberate, and far more intimate than you expected. It wasn’t rushed or demanding, it was a promise, one that made your stomach flip with anticipation.

It was a draw of lips together that felt matched, a soft click as they met again and again – a soft breath leaving you as you tried to push forward. He tasted like whatever he drank back at the bar, and faintly like the gum he spat out after his cigarette while the two of you got out of the cab.

The taste bleeding into your mouth as his tongue licked at your lip with a hum. Your hand was grasping at the one he had held at your neck and jaw, fingers brushing over his bracelets, his skin surprisingly warm for someone who looked like the outside would turn them to dust.

Behind it all was a need, a burning disgusting need, your lips parting for his tongue as he licked into your mouth; tickling at your soft palette and sucking softly at your tongue as you played back. He kept drawing you closer, breathing in every single breath he could, his teeth nipping at your lip every time your tongues hid.

When he pulled back, he let out a soft breath, his lips glossy, and his voice a low murmur. “There she is...”

The words hung in the air, weighty and inescapable, as if they sealed an unspoken pact between you. The faint brush of his breath against your lips sends another ripple of anticipation through you. The room seemed to shrink, the rest of the world fading into insignificance as Aemond's gaze held yours, his intensity making it impossible to look away.

It was like a magnet was pulling you back, your chin tilting to bring your mouths closer again but your lips didn’t meet, they only brushed and danced, breaths mixing as you held your gaze.

You breathed out softly, “What am I getting into?”

He only tutted softly, like you would a small child, his hand reaching to brush at your chin endearingly. Aemond studied you for a beat longer, his hand slipping from your cheek to trail down your arm, his fingers brushing against your skin in a way that made you hyperaware of every inch of yourself.

“Stand up,” he said softly, his tone commanding but not harsh, as though testing your willingness to follow his lead.

You rose without hesitation, his gaze never leaving you as you stood in front of him, so close that the heat of his body warmed yours, his hand up coming to rest lightly on your hip, his thumb absentmindedly stroking the area over your clothing.

“Take off your jacket,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down your spine.

The simplicity of the command shouldn’t have felt as electrifying as it did, but with him, every word carried a weight that made your pulse quicken. You shrugged off your leather jacket, letting it slide from your shoulders and drop to the floor, your eyes never leaving his.

Aemond’s lips curved into a faint smirk, his eye flicking over you with an almost predatory focus. His hand led the way as he gestured toward the sleek couch. “Sit,” he said, his voice still calm, but with an edge that sent a thrill through you.

You did as he asked, the cool leather of the couch beneath you a stark contrast to the heat radiating from your skin. He remained sitting for a moment, watching you with that same unreadable look.

“This isn’t just about me,” he said, his voice breaking the charged silence. He turned back to you, his expression softer now, though no less intense. “If we’re going to do this, it has to be on my terms, but that doesn’t mean your voice doesn’t matter. Understand?”

You nodded, the seriousness of his tone grounding you, even as your anticipation built. “I understand.”

Aemond’s smirk returned as he reached for your face, his fingers brushing against your chin, tilting your head up to meet his gaze.

“Good girl,” he murmured, his thumb grazing your lower lip.

His smirk deepened, his hand slipping to the back of your neck as he leaned in, his nose dragged softly against your cheek before his lips brushed against your ear. “Don’t worry, baby,” he murmured, his voice a low promise. “I’ll take good care of you.”

The air between you thickened as his words settled, wrapping around you like a velvet tether. Aemond’s hand lingered at the nape of your neck, his touch light but deliberate, his thumb idly brushing the sensitive skin there. He was in no rush, savouring the moment, drawing it out until you felt a need clawing at the back of your throat.

“Can you do something for me, baby?” he said, his tone shifting slightly, the teasing edge replaced by something heavier, more serious, his body straightening so he was sitting tall in front of you, your neck craning to look up. He held out his hand, palm up, waiting for you to take it.

You hesitated for the briefest moment, the weight of the moment pressing down on you. But the intensity in his gaze drew you in, and you found yourself placing your hand in his without a second thought. He drew you up with him and close to his body, the heat between you palpable as his head very slightly craned to whisper to you.

“There’s a door down that hall,” His head jutted to the corridor on the farther side of the apartment, turning off to what you could see was a series of doors, “First one just on the right, go inside and wait for me, hm?”

Your breath caught at the subtle command in his voice, the mixture of calm authority and deliberate softness sending a wave of anticipation through you. His hand remained steady around yours, grounding you as his gaze stayed fixed on yours, unwavering and unrelenting.

You nodded, your pulse quickening as you murmured, “Okay.”

Aemond’s lips twitched into a faint smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eye but carried enough weight to leave you momentarily breathless. He released your hand, his fingers lingering for a second longer than necessary before falling to his side. He straightened, his expression calm but laced with a promise you couldn’t quite decipher.

“Good,” he said simply, his voice low. “I won’t keep you waiting long.”

You turned, your legs carrying you toward the hallway he’d gestured to. Each step felt deliberate, the sound of your feet muffled against the sleek flooring. Your mind raced as you reached the first door on the right, your hand hesitating briefly on the handle. There was a flicker of nervous excitement bubbling in your chest, your heart hammering in anticipation. You pushed the door open.

The room was already dimly lit, the soft glow of wall sconces casting a golden hue over the space. The décor here mirrored the rest of the apartment: chaotically put together and understated, with a dark mood. The far wall was lined with more shelving that housed an assortment of neatly organised items; picture frames, polaroids, the odd camera, and books.

The room exuded the same calculated precision that seemed to define Aemond. It was surprisingly clean for a man’s room, but you expected nothing less from him.

You stepped inside, your fingers brushing the edge of the doorframe as you took it in. There was an intimacy to the space, a sense that this room was set apart from the rest of his world, reserved for something singular and private. Your feet padded against the wooden floor towards the plush-looking bed, the black sheets inviting as you sat carefully on the edge. Your breathing was steady but shallow, as you tried not to disturb the neatness of his room, sitting quietly as you turned to face the door, waiting.

It wasn’t long before you heard the soft sound of his footsteps approaching, unhurried but deliberate. The door opened again, and there he was, framed in the golden light. He wasted little time though, and closed the door behind him with a quiet click, his eye fixed on you as he stood by the door.

Aemond’s presence filled the room instantly, the air shifting with the weight of his heated gaze. He didn’t say a word at first, his eye tracing your form as you sat on the edge of the bed; staring at you like were about to disappear at any moment, your hands resting on your lap, fingers fidgeting slightly. The faintest of smirks tugged at his lips as he pushed off the door, the sound of his feet soft against the floor in time with the thuds in your chest.

“Well, aren’t you just a pretty thing,” He hummed softly his voice low as he came to stand in front of you, smooth, and impossibly calm, “You’re nervous.”

Your head tilted up to look at him, your face level with his belt buckle as he looked down at you, his hand reaching out to gently caress your head.

His voice was a mere coo as he looked down his nose at you, “Don’t be. You don’t need to be.”

He was taking in your features in the low light of his room, his hand moving from your head to the side of your face, his thumb caressing the skin as he just merely observed you. His touch was warm and slightly rough from what you could imagine was years of guitar playing, the slight scratch on your cheek grounding you at the moment.

“Lay back for me, pretty girl,” He hummed comfortably, one of his knees coming up to rest by your hip as he pressed forward.

It was like your body was on autopilot, sinking back into the bed as your chin tilted up to look up at him; Aemond followed your movement with a slow, deliberate pace, his fingers trailing lightly over your collarbone as you leaned back onto your elbows, his hand skimming your neck like he wanted to grab and softly press back. Similar to the way you’d guide an animal.

The intimacy of his touch sent shivers down your spine, and you couldn’t quite tell if it was the weight of his presence or your anticipation that made your breath hitch.

"Good girl," he murmured, his voice smooth, laced with something that sent heat rushing through you. He climbed onto the bed with ease, his movements controlled and precise.

The mattress dipped slightly under his weight, and you felt his hand settle on your hip before sliding down your thigh to grab the plush skin, grounding you further into the soft fabric beneath. His gaze roamed over you, his lips curving into a smirk as he silently appraised you for listening to him. It wasn’t just his words or his touch, it was the way he looked at you like you were his and his alone in that moment.

"You’re being so good for me, baby," he began, his thumb brushing the fabric that covered your thigh, "Can I ask something of you?"

Your breath hitched again, the words catching in your throat before you could respond. His hand slid up your side, barely ghosting over your ribs and dragging the fabric of your shirt up with it, and you felt your heart pounding in your ears.

"Say something," he coaxed, his voice a quiet command as his head dipped lower, his lips barely brushing against your ear. "Or I'll have to guess…"

The closeness of him was intoxicating, and as his fingers played at the hem of your shirt, the pad of his thumb just brushed the skin underneath with a burning intensity that didn’t match the soft action. When you finally found your voice, it was quiet, almost timid, but it was enough to satisfy him.

"Okay," you whispered, your gaze flickering to his face. The corners of his mouth twitched, amusement dancing in his single, stormy eye.

"I want to remember you, baby, can I ask you do to something for me?" His voice was breathy, his thumb pressing slightly harder against your hip like he was trying to keep you as close as possible like you’d ever run away. "Let me film you..."

The air in the room seemed to shift at his words, the weight of his request hanging between you on a delicate thread threatening to snap. You could feel your eyes widen slightly as your brain worked overtime to process what he’d said, your breath catching in your throat. His gaze stayed locked on yours, searching your face for any sign of hesitation or discomfort.

"Only if you’re okay with it," Aemond added, his voice softer now, almost tender. The hand on your hip loosened its grip, his thumb brushing slow, soothing circles against your skin. "The way you look right now, baby, I think you’d be so pretty for me on camera..."

Your heart raced, not just from the intensity of the moment but from the vulnerability in his words. It wasn’t just desire in his eye, it was something deeper, something that made your chest tighten and your resolve falter. He wasn’t just asking for control; he was asking for trust.

"I..." Your voice came out shaky, and you swallowed hard before trying again. "I’ve never…"

"That’s okay," he interrupted gently, his hand moving to cup your cheek. His touch was warm, and grounding. "I’ll take care of you, baby, if it’s too much, just say your word, and we stop. It stays between us."

The sincerity in his tone eased the knot in your stomach, and after a moment, you found yourself nodding. "Okay," you said, your voice steadier this time. "I trust you."

This could potentially be a huge mistake, placing this amount of trust and intimacy in someone you’d only met tonight; but there was something about Aemond that just called to you. Made you forget yourself, and want to indulge yourself more in his hardened image.

His smirk softened into something closer to a smile, and he leaned down to press a kiss to your lips, lingering there for a beat longer than necessary. "Good girl, he murmured, his lips brushing against yours teasingly. "You’re perfect."

With his assurance, he shifted slightly, reaching over to his nightstand, his hand blinding opening one of the drawers to pull out a small but expensive-looking vintage camcorder. It almost looked like a relic of the '90s, but it seemed fitting, just like everything else about him. He was knelt on his knees between your open legs as he fiddled with the gadget.

Aemond handled the camcorder with surprising care, checking the settings like he’d done this a dozen times before the faint whir of the tape winding filled the air, a nostalgic sound that somehow made the moment feel even more intimate. The blinking redlight told you that it was capturing everything that was going on.

Aemond glanced back at you, his eye gleaming like molten steel beneath the dim light. His long, platinum hair, messy from the gig, fell over his shoulder as he tilted his head at you.

"Are you sure?" he asked again, his voice steady as before but with an edge to it that told you that he was taking your feelings into consideration. "If it’s too much, we stop. No bullshit. No pressure."

"I’m sure," you replied, the words carrying more confidence than you expected. You met his gaze, letting him see the truth in your eyes.

Aemond nodded, his lips curving into that familiar smirk again. "Good girl," he said, his tone low and full of praise as he adjusted his position on the bed leaning over and angling the camera just right to sit on the nightstand. "Just keep looking at me, baby. Don’t worry about anything else. It’s just you and me."

And with that, Aemond leaned down, capturing your lips in a kiss that was as demanding as it was gentle like he wanted to claim every piece of you. There was something delicious about the way his lips coaxed yours, the way he commanded each smack of your lips with a gentle flick of his tongue; teasing you. The world outside the room faded, leaving only the steady rhythm of your breath and the overwhelming heat of him as he pulled you closer.

The kiss deepened, Aemond's lips moving against yours with a passion that left no room for hesitation. His hand slid to the nape of your neck sliding into your hair and tilting your head back slightly as he explored every inch of your mouth. It was a slow but consuming kiss, like he had all the time in the world to unravel you piece by piece. A soft moan escaped you as his tongue tickled at the roof of your mouth, one you couldn’t quite suppress, and you felt him smile against your lips, a faint chuckle rumbling low in his chest.

"Cute," he murmured with a nip at your bottom lip, pulling back just enough for you to catch your breath. His eye roamed your face, taking in your flushed cheeks and the way your lip shone in the low light of his room, the way your lips parted slightly, and the addictively dazed look in your eyes. "Even prettier like this."

You didn’t have a chance to respond before he was leaning in again, his lips trailing a line of soft kisses along your jaw, his breath skimming your skin down to the sensitive spot just beneath your ear. The warmth of his breath against your skin sent a shiver through you, and his grip on your thigh tightened as though he felt it rack through you.

"Aemond..." you breathed, a slight whine to your voice as your hips pushed softly up against his, the feeling of his length through his jeans, not enough friction for you to feel remotely content.

Your voice, trembling and needy, seemed to burn something in Aemond. His lips paused at your neck, his teeth grazing your skin just enough to make your breath hitch. A low, pleased noise rumbled from his chest as his fingers dug into your thigh, grounding you beneath him and pulling you further into his body.

"You’re something else," he murmured against your neck, his voice rough like a low guitar riff, the heat of his breath fanning against your skin. "So eager for me, aren’t you?"

His murmured words sent a jolt of heat straight through you, and you felt your body instinctively arch into his touch. He didn't stop his lips, however, as they continued their exploration, kissing and nipping down the column of your throat, marking a path that made your pulse race.

When his lips met the hollow of your throat, he paused, lifting his head to meet your gaze. His gaze burning with an intensity that coiled something in your stomach; a mix of desire and something more, something deeper. Your body felt like it was on fire as his fingers traced up the inside of your leg, his middle finger toying with the leg of your shorts. Dipping in teasingly as he smirked amused by your squirming.

“Will you be good for me baby?” He nosed at your jaw softly, tilting your head up like a dog would as he spoke against the bone, this thumb joining the action to stroke the little pudge of fat you had at the top of your thigh as he did; your core clenching in anticipation with his proximity.

If you could see the air between the two of you, you imagined it looked like something struck hot metal; sparks snapping and crackling. He was something addictive that you weren’t sure you’d ever want to give up as every nerve ending in your body attuned to his touch, his voice, the intoxicating weight of his presence.

You could feel Aemond's smirk against your skin as it widened, your breath coming faster, your chest rising and falling beneath his touch. His thumb continued its maddeningly slow strokes, brushing against your skin just enough to tease without giving you the relief you craved.

"I asked you a question, sweetheart," he murmured, his voice dripping with a dark amusement as his lips hovered over your jawline, leaving a snapping kiss that felt like a tease more than a relief. "Will you be good for me? Or do I need to coax the answer out of you?"

The rasp in his tone sent another wave of heat rushing through you. Your hands instinctively clutched at his shirt, fingers gripping the soft fabric like it was the only thing tethering you to reality.

You swallowed hard, the words catching in your throat before you managed a quiet whimper: "I’ll be good."

"That’s what I like to hear, baby…" he purred, his hand sliding further up your thigh, past your core and to the waistband of your shorts, his touch deliberate but still torturously slow as he gave them a teasing tug.

"Look at you," he continued as he pulled back, his tone low and rough. "So desperate, so perfect... all for me." His thumb pressed lightly into the skin above the waistband, and the pressure made your hips buck involuntarily into his bulge, a soft whimper escaping your lips.

He chuckled giving a teasing push of his hips against your core, the feeling enough to make you want to wrap your legs around him and rut like an animal. But it was a deep, throaty sound that vibrated against your skin and gave you a slight pause as he moved his lips back to yours, leaving a few biting kisses on your lips like he was trying to placate you.

"Patience, baby," he murmured, his free hand sliding up to cradle your jaw, tilting your face toward his. "I’ll give you what you need, but I want to savour you first."

At that, Aemond pulled back slightly to sit back on his knees between your open legs, as he studied your face. His gaze sharp and alight with a mix of lust and authority. His hands trailed down your body, deliberately slow, fingers grazing over your waist before settling back on your thigh giving a reassuring squeeze. The weight of his touch was grounding, even as his words sent a shiver through you.

"Take this off for me," he commanded softly, tugging lightly at the hem of your shirt. His voice was low, carrying the same deep rasp that sent your heart racing, but there was no mistaking the steel beneath his tone.

Your breath caught in your throat as his words registered. He rolled off to the side of you, his body leaning back with his elbow on the mattress as he expected to take place standing at the edge of the bed, clearly intending to watch. His smirk deepened as he reached for the camcorder, angling it slightly to capture the moment.

"I want to see all of you," he continued his voice a purr; soft and low like he was trying not to interrupt the scene. "Slowly, baby. Let me enjoy it."

The air between you crackled with tension and heat as you got up, your legs trembling from lust as you stood between his parted legs. It was nerve-wracking, looking down at him and the blinking red light, his gaze rolling over your form hungrily.

Your hands trembled as they gripped the hem of your shirt, Aemond’s gaze and the camcorder burning into you; unwavering and unrelenting. He was memorising every move you made.

You hesitated for a moment, your cheeks flushing under his intense scrutiny, however, the heat in his gaze was reassuring, grounding you in a way that made your nerves fade into the background. Slowly, you lifted the fabric, revealing more of your skin inch by inch. His tongue darted out to wet his lips as the shirt finally cleared your head, your hair fluffing around you as you dropped the fabric off to the side like it was nothing. He let out a low hum of approval at the sight of your bare chest, the shirt you wore to his gig not built for wearing a bra under it.

His room wasn’t the warmest in the world as you felt your nipples pebble with the cooler air, and the look of his eyes feasting on each piece of skin you showed. He was laid out like a Greek god and you were his water nymph he was playing with; one of his legs bent on the bed to rest his foot on the edge, widening his stance. All in an attempt to ease some pressure from his erection.

"Good girl," he murmured, his eye raking over you with unfiltered hunger, his hand surprisingly steady with the camera as he let one hand go to palm himself, a flush blooming over your chest and cheeks from the action. "Now the rest for me, nice and slow."

His words, paired with the way he sat back like he had all the time in the world, sent a blooming heat through you. Your hands slid to the waistband of your shorts, emboldened by his words as you caressed your skin on the way, unbuttoning them with deliberate slowness as you followed his command. Each movement felt like a performance under his intense gaze, the weight of his attention making your heart pound harder.

“Look at you, baby,” He sang softly, appreciating you as the shorts slid down your legs and onto the floor, you stood there, bare save for your underwear and tights, feeling simultaneously exposed and powerful under his gaze. “Putting on a show just for me…”

"Perfect," he said softly, almost to himself, before tilting his head to get a better look at you, his platinum hair falling over his shoulder. "The rest of it too, baby, turn around and show me…”

You swallowed thickly at that, the low rasp of his voice sending shivers down your spine as your nipples only pebbled more at his tone. Aemond’s gaze never wavered from your body, his intensity a weight in your chest that kept grounding you in the moment.

You gnawed softly at your lip, hesitating for only a moment before spinning slowly on your toes, letting him drink in every exposed movement. The stillness of the room let you hear his sharp inhale, which was low but unmistakable, a subtle confirmation that he liked every inch of what he saw.

His gaze burned as it followed the curve of your back, your hands moving to the waistband of your tights as he asked. Your body rolled down with them, giving a little wiggle to your hips, as your hands worked on sliding them down inch by inch. The fabric clung to your legs before pooling at your ankles, kicked off to the side and leaving you bare but for the thin piece of cotton that clung to your hips.

As you straightened, your heart hammered in your chest anxious to make sure you were doing good for him, your lip still between your teeth as you glanced over your shoulder at him.

Aemond’s lips parted slightly from behind the camera, his tongue darting out to wet them again like he was restraining himself. "Turn back around, baby…" he murmured, his voice low and rough, the barest hint of a growl behind his words.

You obeyed, slowly turning to face him, your hands instinctively moving to rest at your sides. His gaze roamed over you, lingering at your hips, the lines of your legs, rolling back up over your chest, and finally returning to your face. His smirk deepened, the corner of his mouth quirking upward in satisfaction.

His gaze didn’t waver as he reached out to place the camera off to the side, the red light moving like a star in the sky as he rested it just out of reach but you had no doubt it still had the two of you in view. He didn’t need to say another word in the moment as he held his hand out to beckon you closer, your legs hitting the edge of the bed as his hand rested on your hip, guiding you closer with deliberate slowness.

"That’s it," he murmured, his voice a low purr as he leaned back further, his back hitting the sheet this time, spreading his legs just enough to make space for you. "Climb up, baby. I want you right here."

Your heart thundered in your chest as you obeyed, your knees sinking into the mattress on either side of his thighs. His hands immediately found your hips, his grip firm but not restrictive as you settled into his lap.

The feel of his denim-clad legs beneath you was rough, a stark contrast to the warmth of his touch as his thumbs began tracing slow circles on your skin. He was hard as a rock as he tugged you forward slightly, resting your core over that hardness as you squirmed. Your hands rested softly on his hips for balance as you gazed down at him. His belt buckle was cool even through the thin material of your panties, every breath feeling like it was nudging you further into the cold metal as you fought a small whine that was building in your throat.

"You look so good like this, baby…" Aemond said, his gaze locking onto yours, the hunger in it making you feel like the only person in the world. "So fucking beautiful."

Heat pooled in your stomach as his words wrapped around you, his praise making you feel bolder despite the flutter of nerves in your chest. Your hands moved to rest on his waist, fingers curling in the soft fabric of his tee. His smirk deepened as he felt each little squirm of your hips, the scent of leather and faint cologne wrapping around you like a second skin.

"Move for me," he coaxed, his voice a quiet demand that left no room for argument. His hands guided your hips gently, encouraging you to rock against him, the friction sparking a delicious heat between your bodies. "Just like that, baby. Let me see how good you feel."

A soft moan escaped your lips as you followed his lead, your movements tentative at first but growing bolder as his hands steadied you. The way he looked at you like you were a melody he wanted to memorise, only spurred you on.

"That’s it," he praised, his tone dropping lower, rougher, as his lips brushed against your ear. "You’re perfect, baby, every fucking inch of you."

His fingers slipped higher, grasping the plush of your hips as he pulled you closer, his hips pressing up slightly to meet your movements, a soft moan spilling out your lips as the rough denim of his jeans scraped against the soft crotch of your panties; kissing your clit so deliciously you could help but push back harder, desperate for some friction. His grin turned almost wicked, his voice dropping to a growl as he added, "Let me see all of you, baby."

Aemond’s words curled around you, igniting a fire in your chest that burned and tore through you with every passing second. His eye flicked down to where your bodies moved in rhythm before meeting your gaze again, the intensity in his expression making you feel both vulnerable and unstoppable.

"That’s my girl," he murmured, his hands tightening on your hips, guiding your movements with more purpose. The rough fabric of his jeans against your core only added to the sensation, the friction sparking a need that seemed to consume every thought in your head as soft little moans spilt from your lips.

You tilted your head back at the feeling, your hips moving on their own as he leaned back on the bed, looking up at you with a dark look as he watched you take your pleasure. It was going to be enough to make you cum at this rate, the hardened feel of his length pushing against you and the jeans making the crotch of your panties slicker and slicker as you practically humped him like an animal in heat. He has the smuggest look on his face as your eyes fluttered softly, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip trying to focus on that burning pleasure between your legs.

"Aemond," you whimpered as your eyes fluttered shut, fingers grasping tighter into the fabric of his shirt, the sound of his name on your lips sending a visible shiver through him.

He let out a low, satisfied hum, his hands moving up to cradle your waist as his hips rolled up to meet yours. "Say it again," he demanded softly, his voice like velvet in your ears, "I want to hear you."

"Aemond," you repeated, louder this time, your voice trembling with pathetic whine, the weight of everything you felt in that moment crushing at your chest.

He could only coo at you softly as if your desperation was the sweetest melody he’d ever heard. His lips were carved into a permanent smirk, the kind that made your stomach flutter and your core tighten.

"Look you at you," He cooed, his hands gliding up your sides, his thumbs brushing against the soft skin beneath your ribs appreciatively. "Humping at me like a little bunny."

Your hips bucked instinctively at that, a quiver in your movement as his words settled into you, the friction sending sparks shooting through your body as a needy moan slipped past your lips.

"Aemond," you whimpered again, the sound more like a plea now, your head tilting back as the pleasure coursed through you in waves.

"Fuck, look at you," he growled, his hands tightening their grip on you as he rolled his hips up harder, matching your rhythm perfectly. The sensation was almost too much, the rough denim of his jeans and the wet fabric of your panties creating a torturous friction that had you trembling begging for more. "Do you like that baby, being called bunny?"

Your breath hitched at his question, your movements faltering for a moment as his words wrapped around you. The pet name, soft and teasing, sent a new wave of heat rushing through you, making your cheeks flush. You nodded, unable to form words, your hips resuming their desperate grind against him as your hands fisted tighter in his shirt.

Aemond chuckled, the sound deep and vibrating against your chest as he leaned up, his torso meeting yours, his lips brushing against your ear. "I think you do," he murmured, his voice dripping with dark amusement. "My little bunny, so desperate for me, aren’t you?"

"Yes," you gasped, the confession spilling from your lips without hesitation, your body moving instinctively in search of more of the delicious friction. Your head tilted back again, exposing the length of your neck to him, and he didn’t waste the opportunity. His lips found the sensitive skin there, pressing kisses that were both soft and possessive, his teeth grazing lightly before sucking a mark into your skin.

"My sweet little bunny," he praised, his voice muffled against your neck as his hands gripped your waist tighter, guiding your movements. His hips rolled up to meet yours with each grind, and the pressure against your core sent sparks shooting through you, each one more intense than the last.

You whimpered, your nails digging into his shoulders as you felt the tension building in your stomach, the heat coiling tighter with every pass of your hips over his. "Aemond," you breathed, your voice trembling as you clung to him desperately, your body trembling from the effort of holding on to the edge.

"That’s it, bunny," he coaxed, his tone both commanding and tender as his eye locked onto yours. His smirk softened, replaced by something almost reverent as he watched you come undone above him. "Let go for me, show me how good you can be…"

His words stupidly pushed you over the edge, a sharp cry escaping your lips as the burning tension in your stomach snapped and a wave of pleasure crashed over you. Your body shuddered against his, the feeling of your walls fluttering around nothing and your movements faltering as you buried your face in his neck, your breath coming in ragged gasps.

Aemond’s hands never left you, steadying you through each shiver of your body, his lips pressing gentle kisses to your temple. "There you go," he murmured, his voice soothing as he ran a hand up and down your back. "That’s my good girl."

You felt his grin against your skin as his fingers toyed with the waistband of your panties, a teasing edge to his tone as he added, "But we’re not done yet, bunny. I want all of you."

As you slumped against him, your body still trembling from the aftermath of your release, Aemond's arms tightened around you, holding you securely in his lap. His breath was warm against your temple, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest as he pressed a lingering kiss to your hair. The room felt hotter, like someone had turned up the heat as you nuzzled pathetically against him, a gentle needy kiss being pressed to his jaw as you sought out his comfort. Something in his position had you sinking into a different side of yourself, ready and willing to be taken care of by him.

"You’re incredible," he murmured, his tone soft but laced with an undercurrent of need that made your heart stutter. His hands slid down to your hips again, a pat on this skin as he held you steady, leaning back slightly and scanning your face. "But now it’s my turn, bunny”

The heat in his voice sent another rush of anticipation through you, even as your body felt boneless and pliant in his hands. Aemond’s hands slid up your sides, his touch firm yet tender as he guided you to kneel on the bed.

"Good girl," he praised, his gaze burned into yours, filled with a mix of affection and hunger as he reached for the button of his jeans. "Come on, bunny. I want you to do the honours."

"Stay just like that," he instructed, his voice low and commanding, the dark edge of it sending a thrill down your spine. He moved off the bed, the mattress dipping slightly as he moved to stand at the edge, the camcorder now firmly in his grip. His eye roamed over your form, appreciation burning in his gaze as he adjusted the angle of the lens to frame you perfectly.

As you helped him shimmy out of his jeans the fabric resting at the middle of his thigh, the bulge beneath his boxers became impossible to ignore. He was bigger than you thought, and you’d already humped yourself silly on him, his black boxers did nothing to hide that he was bigger than you’d taken before, thicker too as you spotted a small wet patch on the fabric from where he was clearly leaking. Your gaze flickered up to meet his as you spotted it, and the smirk that curved his lips made your cheeks burn with equal parts excitement and shyness.

"Don’t get shy on me now," Aemond teased; his voice a low purr as he guided your hands to the waistband of his boxers, your hand skimming past his length. "You’ve been so good for me, bunny. Show me how much you want to keep being good."

Swallowing hard your fingers curled into the elastic of the waistband, and with a breath you tugged the fabric down, freeing him from the confines of his boxers. The sight of him, hard and already glistening with evidence of his arousal, made your breath hitch. He was too heavy to stand attention, the sigh of his hanging between his thighs had your core burning even more as you imagined how exactly it was going to feel to take it. Aemond groaned softly as the cool air hit him, trying his best to keep the camera steady as he pointed it down at you.

"That’s my girl," he murmured, his voice rough with desire. "Now, come here."

Your cheeks flushed, the weight of his gaze, and the camera lens and the red light, made you feel exposed in a way that was both thrilling and intoxicating. You shifted on your knees, leaning forward slightly, your body arching instinctively to give him a better view as you looked up at him.

"You can touch bunny," he growled against your lips, his voice sending shivers down your spine. "Show me how good you can be for me."

Aemond groaned as you watched your hand hesitantly come up to grasp him. He was heavy in your palm, your fingers barely meeting as you gave him an experimental tug, the skin silky smooth as you looked at him properly; he was unfairly pretty down there, his head flushed the same colour as his lips as you spotted small droplets weeping from the tip.

You could tell that he was letting you take the wheel on this one, his gaze and the camera staring down at you as you softly started moving your wrist over him. He let out a soft groan at that, your eyes blinking up at him for any sort of praise as you did, the tears from his slit sliding down with each stroke aided in the movement – lubricating each tug as his breathing picked up slightly.

"Good girl," he praised, the words a growl as he pushed his hips closer, the camcorder capturing every inch of you while he did. “You can taste, bunny, I know you want to.”

And boy did you want to.

The red light recording you became just another part of your vision as you kept eye contact with the lens, your lips parting slightly to place a soft kiss on his weeping tip – the groan that he let out at the contact was almost enough to have your eyes rolling slightly but you held it together. There wasn’t any other thought in your head at that moment, your mind focused purely on hearing that noise again. Aemond seemed to be enjoying the simplest of touches, his breathing picking up softly at your tongue flicked out to lick softly at his tip.

"Fuck," he breathed out quietly, one of his hands coming to rest on the back of your head as you pressed a soft kiss to his tip, his fingers sinking into your hair as he tugged your head forward a little more; a small giggle passing your lips as you kept your eyes on him, "You’re going to put me in an early grave, bunny."

With head soft tug of your hair, you could tell that he was coaxing you to take him in your mouth, the feel of his pre-cum making your lips glossy in a way that had his face flushing with want behind the camera. The feeling of erotic, and despite being unsure to begin with, you’d never felt more wanted by someone at that moment, that’s why you had no issue parting your lips for him and slowly sinking him into the wet heat of your mouth. A soft moan passed your lips as his musky taste hit your tongue, and the silky-smooth skin glided him in as far as you could handle; a soft gagging sound slipping out as his fingers tightened in your hair.

“That’s it…” He groaned out softly, his fingers quivering in your hair as you gave a soft suck, your cheeks hollowing out and your tongue lavishing his length as you pulled your head back, “Pretty, pretty girl…” He said as the camera angled more towards your mouth.

You could hear the sound of the camera zooming in as you kept moving slowly up and down his length. A soft gagging sound every time he hit the back of your throat drowned out by the sound of his breathing and airy moans, your hand stroking what couldn’t fit. You imagined it was an erotic sight, made even more by the fact he was filming everything like you were some video vixen.

“So, fucking good bun,” He moaned softly, unashamed at any noises spilling out that pout, his hand tightening in your hair to get you to speed up slightly. “Taking me in your mouth like a good girl…”

Every time you sank down, he held you there a little longer, your nose nearly touching the base as you gagged around him. His teeth grit at the feeling, the wet cavern of your mouth doing wonders for him, made all the better by the drool dribbling out the corners of our mouth. He wasn't forcing you down though, you could still move away if you wanted to, and every time you pulled back you panted softly for air. Your lips kissing softly at his tip while you caught your breath.

When he pulled you back in, you could tell there was an air of something desperate about him as he groaned a bit louder, sinking in and out of your mouth with more intent, more purpose. His hand tugged more at your hair as he began to move you more and more.

“Let me fuck that mouth, bun,” He panted softly, his stomach tensing every so often like he was holding something back, your eyes glazed and looking up at him. “Will you?” He asked breathily like he was whispering to the sick part of your brain directly.

From everything that had happened so far, you knew that you were safe with him and that he wouldn’t hurt you, and the sick part of your brain was ready to give everything up for him and just let him use you how he wanted. At your lack of answer, he pulled you off him, a soft pop as he slid out of your mouth, his free hand moving to wipe the drool off your chin.

“Bunny,” He murmured, tilting your chin farther up – his body leaning away from you for a second to place the camera back on the nightstand, “You with me?”

You could only nod, a small smile on your face, “I am, sorry… I was just thinking.”

“Thinking?” He smirked softly, tapping your chin affectionately, “Is my cock not pleasing enough to you, bunny?”

The flush on your face burned harder at that, your teeth nibbling at your lip as you tried to look away – a bit embarrassed to be caught so in your head at the stupidest of times. He was all over you, his taste in your mouth, his touch on your skin – it was addicting, to say the least. He was too beautiful, and that needy voice in your head begged, pleaded and cried to just let him have you any and all ways.

“I want you to fuck my mouth,” You mumbled softly, a shy twinge to your voice like you were ashamed to even be admitting that you wanted it, blinking at him like you could communicate with just your eyes.

“What do we say when we want something, bunny?” He smirked, his hand grasping your chin a bit tighter as he bent at the waist to level with you, looking down his nose at you, “Use your big girl words now, I shouldn’t have to remind you.”

The desperation and the humiliation clawed at your throat, the burning between your legs leaving you stupidly uncomfortable, your thighs squeezing together on the bed to try and ease that feeling.

“Please,” Your voice was little, barely there, like the words were just another breath out but he wasn’t having that, his hand tightening again as his eyebrow raised silently. “Aemond, please…” The desperation crawled out your mouth in the form of a whimper, pathetic and needy like yourself as it spilt out.

The tut that left his lips was humiliating, something you’d do at a pet that was misbehaving or you were displeased with, his thumb brushing against your skin tauntingly as he gazed at you, “That wasn’t so hard now was it, bunny?”

The fact all of this was on camera didn’t help either, the red light on the nightstand taunting you from the corner of your eye.

“Sweet little thing,” He patronised you softly, craning your head up as far as it could go as his hand squeezed your mouth open, lips parting with a soft breath, “You need to be good and ask for things, bunny…”

The word sorry died on your tongue as you looked at him, he didn’t want your words right now.

“I’ll use that pretty mouth of yours,” He cooed, the words filled with taunt and want equally as he looked at you amused, “Open your mouth wider for me.”

If he told you to jump off a cliff right now, you believed that you would, your mouth opening wider under his hold with a slight “Ah” noise.

The amusement danced in his gaze at that, “Tongue too, bunny…”

He let out a soft hum as your tongue peaked out of your mouth, appreciative that you could in fact listen to him, his head leaning down closer to you as his gaze shifted from your eye to your open mouth.

“Keep it nice and wide,” He breathed softly, a subtle squeeze to your jaw pinching it just ever so slightly wider as he hovered over the open cavern, “There we go…”

You could already tell what he was going to do before he even spoke, his tongue rolling in his cheek slightly with a dark look, his lips pursing softly. Time stopped in that moment though, as you watched a glob of spit drip from his mouth to yours, the feeling viscous and wet on your tongue as you moaned out from your open mouth. He could only quirk his mouth at that as he stood back to full height, hishands reaching to shed his shirt.

“Keep that there, bunny,” He commanded softly as his free hand grasped his cock again, giving it a little tug for good measure before it hovered near your mouth, “You’ll get what you want.”

“If you need to breathe or you want me to stop, pinch my thigh, bunny,” He directed gruffly, his tip skimming your lips as you let out a noise of understanding, “Relax for me.”

Your hand flew to brace itself on his thigh as he slid back into your mouth, both of his hands moving to sink into the back of your hair as your lips sealed back around him. The moan he let out was euphoric as his head tilted back slightly, his hair shaking softly down his back as his hips sawed back before pushing forward. The gag was stronger this time as each thrust left his tip kissing the back of your throat, the slick suckling noises filling the space as he moved freely in and out of your mouth at his own pace.

The groans and moans he let out with each thrust were beautiful, you’d never been with such a vocal man before, and he was letting you know it was enough every second of it as you sucked harder around him. He had left you were a free hand of your own, the one that was bracing on his thigh grasping his skin tightly as he used your mouth with abandon, your free one was yours to do as you pleased.

The panties you were wearing were thoroughly soaked through, the gusset of them just a sop of fabric you were wearing as the burning increased, your eyes flicking up to his tilting head as you caressed your thigh and upwards.

With your moans picking up, each wet stroke of your fingers combined with the increased thrusting into your mouth, it was no given that Aemond was curious about what you were doing. His head tilted back to look at you with a stupidly amused look, a smirk painting his lips as he continued to patronise you.

“Filthy little thing,” He chuckled through a moan, his eyebrows raised slightly with pleasure as his lips parted watching you touch yourself while he used your mouth, “I’ll allow it for now.”

He seemed to enjoy the moan that vibrated around him, a groan of his own passing his lips as your hand sunk into your panties. It took microseconds to slide your fingers over your clit, rubbing in time with his thrusts to ease the pleasure burning between your thighs.

“Good girl…” He breathed, his hips moving a bit quicker into your mouth as you touched yourself, your eyes shut as you focused on the stimulation of your mouth and your fingers, “You like that, bun?” He chuckled faintly.

“I bet you do…” He hummed, his fingers tightening in your hair starting to move your head how he wanted a bit more.

And boy, did you.

While your fingers weren’t pushing you towards another peak, they were turning this experience into something so filthy that you were sure you’d dream of it for years to come. The feeling of drool dripping down your throat, and your eyes watering as you gazed up at him. He was so invested in your mouth, his grunt and hisses tickling your brain as he met your eyes. A filthy smile on his lips as he sped up slightly, his eyebrows pulling with feeling.

“Will you let me cum in your mouth, baby?” He breathed out, the sound so airy that you barely caught it.

With your mouth a little preoccupied, all you could do was moan around him needily, the thought of him filling your mouth had you fluttered around nothing. Your fingers picked up with his hips as he forced himself more and more into your mouth, the gagging noise getting louder as his tip kept kissing your throat.

He gave you some reprieve as he pulled you off him slightly, your chest heaving and mouth swollen while you gave you a second to breathe. Your lips glossy with his precum as you looked up at him with heavy eyes. The moment was over before it could begin as he sunk back into your mouth, his hand moving off your head for a moment to brush a tear away from your watery eyes before getting back to it.

His stomach was clenching right before your eyes as he lost himself in the feeling of your mouth, his grunts getting breathless and needy. You were nothing but a vessel for his pleasure but you loved every second of his, your finger on your clit basically forgotten as you worked on suckling and lavishing your tongue over him.

His noises were getting louder and louder, his own eyes shut with a twist on his face; he was truly beautiful like this, “Fuck, baby…”

You would have giggled if he wasn’t filling your airways, the feel and taste of his precum stronger as he leaked into your mouth.

You could have stared at him for hours, sat with his cock in your mouth for the rest of time if I meant seeing him like this, but fate was cruel in its own ways.

The subtle tightening in your hair told you what was going to happen before it could, his hips snapping a few more times before he hissed loudly.

“Fuck.” He practically snapped, a final moan coming from you as he filled your mouth.

It sent your eyes rolling slightly as he landed in your mouth, some of his cum slipping down your throat and most of it on your tongue as he drew his cock out of your lips. His hand instantly flew to your jaw with a feral look in his eye to keep your mouth open.

He softly squeezed at the bone to keep it propped open as his lips parted, a soft chuckle coming out as he watched you roll his spend on your tongue slightly.

“Look at you…” He smirked softly, his hand forcing your head up more, “So pretty with me in your mouth…”

He placed a knee on the bed to get closer to your level, his body curling over yours as you smiled slightly, sticking your tongue further out for him to see what lay there. You were sure you looked a mess, spit on your chin and tears down your face, your lips throbbing slightly from use. But none of it mattered in that moment if it meant he kept looking at you like he was.

“Messy…” He chuckled with his lips hovering over yours, glancing between your eyes and mouth before his lips curled.

An honest shocked noise slipped out as his lips met yours, eyes slipping shut with a moan as his tongue slipped into your mouth; curling around yours and his spend as you swallowed some of it. It was disgustingly hot the way your lips met, the taste of him passing between the two of you as he laughed against your mouth, something feral bleeding into the tone as you rose up onto your knees with him.

Holding yourself up with his waist, the two of you exchanged spit and kisses with wet noises that would make anyone burst into flames. The kiss was intense with something so hot that you were surprised when he pressed forward, his arm slipping around your waist to tumble you both onto the best. Hands grabbing at skin, his own sliding into the back of your underwear to start shoving it down.

“Off.” He grunted with a bite to your lip, leaving no room for argument.

It was a haste to let go of him, his hands aiding yours to shove the offensive fabric down, caring little where they landed as they got pushed down your thighs and kicked off your foot. His hand was harsh on your thigh as yours sank into his hair, tugging with intent as he grunted into your mouth, biting your lip in retaliation for the tug.

Both of you were panting as you pulled apart, his eye dark as he looked at you flush and laid out in his sheets. His hand squeezing your thigh slightly with a tut, as he looked between you and the middle of the bed, a silent command to move.

You’d laugh at the power he had over you if you didn’t do what he said instantly.

It was like there was something lodged in your throat as you crawled backwards on his sheets, the softness against your skin doing nothing to ease the heat rising in you as he pressed and pressed you back – your body laying out like his own personal buffet. He was quick to secure your knees in his hands as he knelt between your parted legs, whistling lowly, mockingly, as he glanced down at your wet folds. Staring like he currently wasn’t standing at full mast.

“Poor thing…” He drawled with an amused smile twitching at his lips, his palms rough and warm against your thighs as they brushed up, the silver of his rings warmed to his skin, “So needy and for what? You couldn’t even get yourself off…”

The whine that bubbled in your throat with his teasing was pathetic, akin to a wounded animal as he jested at your dismissed orgasm. You ached so badly to close your thighs and relieve the fading burn, uncomfortable with the cool breeze hitting your wetness like a kiss from winter.

“I was playing so nice with you, bun…” He tutted softly, one of his hands letting go of your thigh to brace himself by your shoulder, sinking into the mattress as he hovered over you with a look that you could only describe as hungry. “But you got greedy, didn’t you?”

His eyebrow twitched at you as he repeated himself, your eyes gazing up at him, a soft sheen in your eyes as your frustration built, “Didn’t you, baby?”

He chuckled softly as your face twisted in discomfort, a crackle in your voice as you found the courage to reply, “Aemond…”

Oh, it was a desperate whine.

Oh, how he ate it up.

His chuckle was more of a taunt as he pressed his body closer to yours, skin warm as it touched, his nose drawing over your jawline as he breathed you in. Your own eyes fluttered as the caress of his warm breath, your core clenching as one of his hands dragged up your thigh, fingers edging its innermost parts like he would the frets of his guitar.

“Now, now…” He hums softly, laying a soft kiss on your jaw, chuckling as he drags his lips down your neck, more soft kisses being pressed every so often, “Ask nicely, and I’ll give in to your greed…”

His fingers brushed your inner thigh like a whisper, moving just enough to feel the texture as they ghosted up, palm spanning the skin.

Your breathing was shaky in its own right, your own hands drawing up his sides and to his back, feeling him properly as he played with you, your breath moving the soft hairs by his temple.

“Please,” You swallowed thicky, your nails sinking into his skin, “Aemond, please…”

Part of you wondered if maybe he was summoned from whatever lustful circle of hell demons resided, his touch closer to feeling like you were falling over the edge as he held you over it by a string.

“Good girl…” He hummed warmly, his teeth nipping at your neck in retaliation for the grab, his tongue swiping over the skin to soothe his bite, “You make everything so hard for yourself…”

If you hadn’t already laid your sins out bare for him to pluck at, to video, you’d be utterly ashamed of yourself at the way you keened when his fingers slid over your folds. An amused noise passed his lips on your neck as he drew up the same way someone would turn the pages of a book. Delicately, with the purpose of knowing what else there was on the next page.

His lips were as sinful as his hands as he laid kiss after kiss on your neck, biting with what would be violets blooming on your skin. The ache of the bite caused your head to drop back onto his sheets with soft pants, giving him the space he needed to paint his pictures.

“You’re practically drooling…” He taunted you, as a soft pleasured breath left your lips, his middle finger rough from strings ghosting over your clit – a warm shot of lightning catching in your stomach. “All for me?”

All you could do was nod as he grinned against your skin, his middle finger delicately brushing over your clit in soft strokes; his knee drawing up to the underside of your thigh to push your leg open further, a flower blooming. There was the familiar burn that spread from your clit and radiated up your abdomen with the tease of his middle finger, switching between a soft caress to a rub circle around as he pushed and pushed and pushed.

Your hips were squirming on the bed, trying to push yourself further into his touch so he’d fully give in, but with each movement, he jutted his hand back enough to keep you at the very edge of his touch. He was playing a game with you, even though you had pleaded for his touch, trying to see how many ways he could make you beg before he gave in. Even without words, his actions were enough that a part of you wanted to push him back, sink your teeth into his shoulder to see how he’d react.

He'd most likely like that thought.

“Please…” It was said a subtle turn of your head, your lips ghosted over his temple, breathing him in like he did you. “Please be kind, I…”

“Kind?” He tutted softly, his lips dragging down your collarbone, pressing a kiss to the top of your breast, “I told you I wasn’t going to be kind, baby…”

Your hand sank into the back of his hair, tangling in the soft strands as your chest pushed up towards his lips, your breathing hitching with the tingle of your skin.

Soft moans and breaths were spilling from your lips like you were resigned to haunting his room from now on; a single hand would be marked on your grave as cause of death with his name next to it. His touches a signature to the absolute dissolve of your sanity.

It wasn’t mercy he was taking on you, it was the attitude that he had to take you apart piece by piece as he grinned against your skin. His middle finger pressed forward first, grazing past your clit to sink down, notching at your entrance as he wiggled his finger there teasingly.

“Is this what you wanted?” He grinned, looking up at you from your chest, “Use your words…”

“Yes…” You breathed pathetically, his finger barely sinking in before it drew back out, the feeling of your walls fluttering around empty space driving you mad. “Gods, yes…”

He seemed pleased with your pleas, his teeth affectionally nipping at your nipple as he finally sank his finger in, your lips parting with a soft moan as your walls fluttered around every bump. His hands were so much bigger than yours, built for playing guitar and generally rougher from actual work, and from the feel of his middle finger, you were ready to give in.

The digit moving and sinking with a languid pace, curling teasingly to brush that rough patch inside you.

“So needy…” He cooed teasingly, his lips kissing back up your chest and neck to whisper in your ear. “It’s cute, baby…”

If you were sane, you would have died at the noises coming from between your legs with each sink of his finger – your mind not even on the camera at the moment as his thumb started to graze your clit again, the quiet room filling with that familiar clicking noise of wetness. Your head barely turned to meet his next to you, your eyes locking as you saw just how dark his eye had gotten with playing with you; your noses knocking together as he breathed you in. Lips barely touching as his finger started to curl more.

“You're soaked…” Aemond hummed softly as your eyes fluttered, a hitching breath leaving your mouth as he grazed that spot. “You think you can take another one, baby?” He teased softly, a nipping peck on your lips.

Before you could respond, he tutted, an amused breath pushing out his nose, “I don’t know why I’m asking, you will take another one.”

A part of you wondered what circle of hell crafted him, the way his lips parted mockingly with yours as he sunk another finger in – a taunting look in his eye that only added to the pleasure as he curled his digits experimentally. The feeling of your legs twitching on the bed and your hand flying down to hold his wrist was humiliating, his rings nudging your entrance with each flick of his wrist. Wanton moans spilling out as he got a little faster with each flick.

He wasn’t a lover that talked you through it, he was a lover that just talked to you, stirred you up and broke you down.

“You’re so tense, baby…” He chuckled, nipping at your bottom lip, “I thought you wanted to come?”

It was a needy strangle in your throat as you resigned yourself to the feeling of his fingers starting to get faster and faster. The delicious fluttering of your walls, coupled with the nudging of his rings, had you wishing that you could get him to sink all the way in with the rings too.

You knew being a guitarist was benefitting him at that moment, the way his arm was tensing without cramping as he did ‘come hither’ after ‘come hither’ motion inside you, your walls fluttering and tensing around him.  All the while, his thumb flicked at your clit the same way he probably plucked his guitars, just enough to get you to sing.

If the way your slick noises and breathy mewls filled the room, he knew how to make you sing for him. His eye burned into you, his voice low with his lips brushing the side of your face as he spoke of all the things he goaded you more.

“Doing so good for me, bun…” He chuckled softly, his lip dragging down your neck and nipping whatever skin he could; his praise shooting through you like a star falling out of the sky. “You were always going to be good for me though, weren’t you?”

The nod you gave in response was washed with sweat and desperation as your hips started to push up into the feeling of him. The burning in your lower stomach started to radiate and spread with each cruel and slick flick of his hand. Your fingers kept digging into his skin, no doubt leaving your marks behind. You were seeking something, anything, to ground yourself as the heat of pleasure rolled through you, the feeling starting to spread down your thighs. The noises you made got more and more desperate with each clench of your walls, threatening to pull you under entirely.

“You gonna let go for me, hm?” Aemond was right there with you, gaze dark with desire, his breath warm against your neck as he murmured.

His voice was low, coaxing, but laced with something sharp—control barely held together as he watched you unravel beneath him. His fingers didn’t falter, working you over with devastating precision, pushing you closer, closer—until the tension inside you felt unbearable.

Aemond shifted, his lips ghosting over the shell of your ear, nipping softly at the lobe. “I can feel you,” he murmured, voice rough with taunt and heady pleasure. “So close, just let go, bunny…”

The words sent a shudder through you, cries starting to fill the room as the pressure in your cunt grew. When his fingers found that perfect spot, curling up in a way that left no room for resistance, your body answered him. It was like something had snapped something inside of you, the heat flooding every nerve as you spilt around his fingers.

The familiar wetness of your release pushing out, and the way your gummy ways clamped down; pleasure tearing through you in waves. You barely registered the sound of your broken moans and sobs of his name, the way you trembled in his sheets, held firm by his touch, by him.

Aemond groaned, his grip tightening as he felt you come apart beneath him. His lips finally found yours again, licking into your mouth and swallowing every gasp, every cry, as if he wanted to devour the feeling right along with you.

“You’re perfect like this,” he whispered against your mouth, his tone slightly softer now, reverent almost as his fingers slowed. The moans coming out of your mouth softened too as you shook in his sheets still, the familiar dampness coating your thighs cooling with the air. But the hunger in his gaze hadn’t dimmed - not in the slightest.

And you knew he wasn’t done with you yet.

The moment’s reprieve he gave you from your last orgasm was more for his benefit than yours, his stance ever smug as he stroked your hip softly; his form lounging next to you like a deity, like he hadn’t just blasted you into another dimension.

It was an intimate embrace, or as close to it as it could get. Your head turning toward him, gaze hazy, reverent, like one might look at a saviour. But there was nothing saintly about him. No, he was not benevolent in any pure sense of the word. He was a giver, yes, but perhaps too much of one. If the trembling in your thighs and the stray tears tracking down your face were anything to go by.

“Don’t give me that look…” Aemond chuckled deeply, his hand reaching to brush your cheek, “I’m not even close to being done with you yet, our night is just starting…”

“You’re going to kill me.” You breathed softly, your own hand coming up to touch his, fingers spanning his wrist as you stroked it delicately.

Your fingers traced along his wrist, feeling the steady pulse beneath his skin as if trying to ground yourself in him. A man who had so thoroughly unravelled you. Your touch was delicate. “And I think you’ll enjoy it.” He retorted.

Aemond huffed his first real laugh to you all night, but it wasn’t at the joke, it was at you. His eye was nefarious as he leaned down close to your face, glancing at you with a look you couldn’t place.

His look alone sent a shiver down your spine, anticipation curling low in your stomach, even as exhaustion clung to your limbs. You should have been spent, should have been begging for rest, but the way he looked at you, like something precious and breakable yet utterly his, had you curled toward him before you could stop yourself. Needy for his heat.

Aemond was too pleased with himself at your closeness, his fingers drifted lower, tracing the hollow of your throat, pausing where your pulse fluttered wildly beneath his touch. His smirk deepened, his thumb pushing softly on your windpipe – it wasn’t to choke you, more to keep you in place and at his command.

Your breath hitched, your fingers tightening around his wrist, but you didn’t pull away. Couldn’t. Aemond leaned in, pressing the softest kiss to your jaw, a low mumble against your skin as he spoke.

“You’re trembling,” he murmured against your skin, his lips dragging down the line of your throat, teeth grazing but never quite biting, he had left his purple flowers earlier. “Are you tired?” He taunted.

You swallowed hard, your throat moving over the subtle press of his thumb as words slipped past your lips before you could stop it.

“No.”

His chuckle was low, and he pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, his own filled with something delicious. “Good,” Aemond murmured.

There was a slight pause as he took you in, undoubtedly looking at the flush colouring your face, or the way your pupils expanded to the point of looking like black wells. For a moment, a brief flicker, you could have sworn that there was something on his face that went beyond pure lust – but whatever it was, it didn’t linger. Something in his eye snapped back to his usual form, and his words tumbled out like silk between his lips.

“You’ve already given me so much,” he murmured, almost thoughtful. Then, a wicked grin. “But I think you can give me more.”

The pressure of his thumb dragging down your throat and back to your hip was humbling, the way something so small could have you ready to kneel so quickly. But whatever you could say about it was taken, his hand spanning your hip to pull you towards him on your side, the familiar feel of his cock hardened against your stomach reminding you that it in fact was not over in the slightest.

“Get up.” He demanded softly, his hand giving your side a final squeeze before he shifted himself.

There was an air of confusion as you watched him move to lay his back against the headboard, your eyes flickering to the camera on the bedside as his body stretched out with legs slightly spread. Aemond had a look in his eyes that told you that getting up was no argument, that the shaking in your thighs and the tiredness behind your lids wasn’t to stop you.

There was an air of silence that was building, your eyes watching as his hand brushed down his stomach briefly to grasp himself again, his own pleasure now on the forefront of his mind as he slowly stroked.

“I won’t ask again.” His voice was low but firm, hand moving casually like he wasn’t stroking himself, “Move.”

It was with a small sniffle that you got out, you weren’t really sad nor upset with the situation, just tired as you sat up; legs curling under you briefly before you crawled on the sheets towards him. His eye was positively wicked in the dim light as he looked at you crawling to him, his free hand reaching out to adjust the camera on the bedside to get all of you as you got to his parted thighs. Body kneeling between them patiently.

There was a beat of stillness before his free hand moved to reach out to you, your own hesitating slightly on your thigh before grasping it. He hummed softly as he tugged you forward, looking up slightly as you rose on your knees, letting go of your palm to smooth down your hips and tug you even further forward. It was a sign to straddle him.

His cock was laying heavy on his stomach as he let it go, both hands moving and grasping your hips as your knees raised to rest either side of him; sliding to your backside slightly to squeeze and coax you into sitting down. He shushed you softly as your sensitive core touched him, hands sliding up to your waist to press you as close as possible while your arms slid around his neck; his hair still as soft as ever as it slipped over your skin.

“You’ve been so good for me bun…” He hummed, his thumb brushing your skin maddeningly, “But you know what I want you to do right?”

A soft puff of air passed out your lips as your hips lazily moved against his cock, your core fragile to the touch after 2 climaxes and touching. It basically had its own heartbeat at this point. Gentle whines building in your throat as he chuckled, amused by your behaviour.

“Oh…” He chuckled deeply, guiding you a little, “You’re so close, baby but not quite.”

“I need a little longer.” You whimpered softly, your head dipping down to nuzzle at his cheek, “Please…”

“Do you?” He teased with a turn of his head, meeting your lips briefly, “I think you don’t, baby, be good now…”

Before you could stop it, a huff came tumbling out of your mouth like a spoilt child – the noise so clear that your eyes widened quickly before registering what you’d done. You couldn’t even get the sound of an apology out your mouth before you felt a force quickly smack down on your behind, an undignified noise tearing out your mouth as the sound of smacked skin filled the room.

The heat bloomed on your backside as you looked at him, shocked, one of your hands moving to cover the area as he gave you a heated look.

“I was planning on being at least a little nice to you, baby.” He scoffed softly, slight heat to his words as he knocked your hand away from your behind, “But you just had to go and be a little brat about it, hm?”

A slight whine came out as your eyes softened, “I’m sorry, I—”

“You what?” He taunted, this thumb brushing over your heated skin, his hand quickly raising again to smack back down without even blinking, “Try harder.”

“I’m sorry…” You bubbled softly, your eyes stinging slightly at the thought of disappointing him that you reached out to touch his face, his chin jutting away slightly with a chuckle. “I didn’t mean it, I just… I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?” He repeated with a slightly raised brow, his eye scanning your face with a dark look, “You’re sorry, baby, you didn’t mean it?” He mocked you slightly, adding a whine to his voice to really drive the point.

“Let me make it up to you…” You gulped softly, hands dragging down his chest as you pressed forward with glossy eyes, “Please…?”

The startle you got as he laughed was slight, the sound so deep and rich that you wondered what exactly was funny about what you said. You could only look at him confused as he pulled you further into him, his cock nudging at your folds, head tilting up to look at you with a grin.

“Baby, you don’t have to ask to make it up to me…” He taunted you softly, hand grabbing at your sore cheek for emphasis, “You’re going to.”

Whatever breath you had left in your lungs hitched as you looked at him, his eyes taunting you to see if you’d use your safe word or not. But no part of you wanted to, you wanted to push and push to see just how exactly he could put you in your place. The idea of him breaking you down was as delicious as Eve being called to the apple. With a thick gulp, you nodded, your hand reaching between the two of you with parted lips as you grasped at his cock; the appendage giving a subtle throb as your fist closed around him.

You knew exactly what he wanted you to do, and no part of you was ready to say no to him anymore as you raised up onto your knees; eyes flickering down slightly wondering just how you were going to take him. He was big, bigger than you’d had before that much was clear, lengthy with enough girth that you were sure he’d fill you lusciously. There was a slight hesitation as you lower yourself down, grabbing him slightly through your folds to catch on your clit with bated breath, fingers edging him further down to sit at your entrance.

All the while he looked at you like you were his last meal, his lips parted and eyes dark as he watched you hover over him with a subtle sway of your hips. A stuttered breath passed out your lips as you started to sink down, a soft noise forced out with the delicious ache of taking him. Centimetre by centimetre, you felt your body make space for him in your gummy walls; the fluttering of the intrusion caused a groan to pull out his lips.

“Fuck.” He breathed, his eyes cast down and his hands tightening on your hip as he aided you in sinking down on him, a loud moan in there as your heat enveloped him. “Doing so good, bun, making it up to me hm?”

He chuckled as you whined and moaned, sinking further and further down while he held onto you, “Looking so pretty on camera too, baby…”

Through a heady gaze, you turned your attention to the red light on the table, reminding you that everything was being captured for him – your hands reaching out to touch his face as you smashed your lips to his. Moaning as he finally sunk all the way in, his length twitching softly within your walls as he groaned against your lips.

He didn’t give you a chance to kiss him before he was pulling away, watching as you squirmed slightly on his cock, back lent against the headboard as he looked at you with an equally potent gaze.

“You can move, baby…” He chuckled, hands brushing teasingly over your hips, your own hands moving to his waist like earlier.

A soft groan fell out your lips as you looked at him pleadingly, being on top was never your favourite without help, but you figured he knew that by now.

“Please…” You sniffle softly, shifting your hips lightly as his cock kisses something inside that left you tingling, “Can you help me?”

He only tutted in response, “You’re supposed to be making it up to me, baby.”

“Aemond.” You whimpered slightly, shifting your hips more into a lazy grind for some kind of friction. “Please.”

Aemond only chuckled in response, leaning further back with a smug smirk; he was getting off on watching you not want to do it, your teeth sinking into your lip as you started to grind a little harder. He wasn’t going to help you, and it was maddeningly attractive, leaving you to your own devices to try and get off while he taunted and tutted at you.

You tried to brace yourself as your hands moved to rest on your thighs, a needy look on your face as you started to move your hips over him. He was kissing your insides like he belonged there with each grind, your clit rubbing on his public bone and forcing breathy moans to fill the space. It was a heady combination of desperation and just pure wanted as he watched you, the only sign he was even fazed being the subtle picking up of his breath and his flexing fingers on your hip.

“Look at you…” He drawled out softly, eye casting all over your form as you worked yourself up on his cock, “So pretty and so needy, is this you being sorry baby?”

“Yes…” You mewled as you looked at him, nails digging into your skin as your hips moved, and moved, and moved. “I’m sorry…”

“Do you really want to make it up to me, baby?” He cooed at you like you would a toddler, one of his hands moving and thumb moving slightly into the crease in your thigh, “Make me happy?”

A frantic nod happened instantly as you breathed and moaned softly, “Yes.”

He chuckled darkly, leaning forward off the headboard – the feeling causing him to slide in deeper which you didn’t think was possible as a harsher moan left your mouth. His free hand slid from your hip, all the way up your breast to brush at your nipple softly before settling at the base of your throat. His hold was soft but with strong intent as it lay there in warning, his palm spanning the bottom and his fingers curling around with a twitch.

“Bounce bunny,” He taunted you, his lips meeting your jaw briefly, “Go on, be good.”

The filthy part of your brain complied instantly to his request, your head tilting back with broken moans as you started to move up and down on him, his lips parting in enjoyment as you took from him. This wasn’t a show for the cameras, this was pure unadulterated want as you bounced and moved on him, his cock sliding in and out of you with each smack of skin, filling his room with the thuds you hadn’t heard in a while. The two of you shared moans and groans with each movement, his lips kissing around the hold on your neck and your hands moving to his shoulders for leverage as you moved like you hadn’t in a while.

“Fuck, you’re so good for me bunny…” He moaned faintly against your skin, his hand tightening on your hip slightly as you buried your nose in his hair, preening softly at his praise, “You like the way I feel, bunny?”

You nodded with a mewl of agreement, panting into his hair as you bounced like a bunny in his lap. It was desperation really, but gods it felt amazing to have him kiss every bump and ridge of your inside like someone carved your hole out just for him.

“Feels good…” You moaned, your hands smoothing over his shoulder and to his back to bite your nails into.

You could feel his teeth show as your nails sunk into his skin, a breathy chuckle passing out his lips as you did, hand twitching on your neck, “You feel good, bunny…?”

“You take me so well,” He moved his mouth to your ear, nipping at your lobe, “Perfect little pussy was made for me, hm?”

His words curled like smoke into your ears, your eyes sinking to a half-lidded state as he spoke to the deep recesses of your brain. Your walls clamped around him as he did, forcing you to move a little bit harsher in his lap. The burning in your thighs was building, spreading from your knees all the way up but you couldn’t stop moving on him, grinding with a pathetic little whine with each roll down. You were pretty sure you did look like a needy bunny in his lap, fucking on him desperately to try and get off again like he hadn’t made you spill twice already; ignoring the burning in your legs and stomach that begged you to stop.

“Maybe I should keep you,” He chuckled pulling his head back slightly to look at your dishevelled state, “You’d like that thought wouldn’t you, keep you with me, warming my cock like the desperate little thing you are?”

“Please,” You begged, pressing your torso to his seeking his touch, “Please…”

Something about him forced you to your edges, pulling you over the edge of cliffs and into some dark pool below that you just couldn’t stop. He moans and groans against your neck wishing that he’d give you the tape of this once it was over, just so you’d have something to hold onto. Just so you could listen to him when you needed to get off.

Gods, you’d let him keep you, the rational part of your brain ready to put away any feminism you had to let him keep you needy and desperate in his lap for eternity.

“Needy little thing…” He taunted you, both his hands moving to your hips with a groan, “What a needy fucking thing you are…”

“Aemond…” You cried softly, the burning in your thighs getting worse with each bounce, “Please, I can’t—”

“You want me to take over is that it, baby?” He grinned at you, something heated behind it, “You’re supposed to be making it up to me, remember”

“Aemond…” You drawled out, trying not to slow down as he pushed and pushed you. “Please, please…”

Tears were pricking your eyes, gathering like pearls really to drop as the pain of overexerting yourself bled into the sheer pleasure of fucking him. The first of them slithering down your cheek as you looked at him, face full of want and anguish for him to take over. His healthy eye’s pupil was already are wide as the abyss, but something about watching a tear streak down your face only caused a glint to pass over it. His face stretched into something dark as he caught the tear with his lips, grinning like he’d discovered diamonds.

“Now, look at that…” He licked your cheek as another tear fell, your eyes closing at the feeling, he was feeding off those tears, “Bunny, you look so pretty when you cry…”

He was a bastard, but gods he was everything in that moment.

It wasn’t pity he took on you with his hands starting to help you, it was a need to see more of those delicious tears run down your face. His body leaned back for leverage as he started moving you up and down on him, like his own personal toy, his touch was harsher than yours, however. Each time he pulled you down only forced more noises out of your mouth, the smacking of skin getting louder and louder as he worked you over him.

The tears in your eyes didn’t lessen in the slightest, your wet gaze looking at him as they dripped with other intent. This wasn’t pain anymore, it was a burning gnawing feeling of lust building up again as your insides started to flame with another building climax. Aemond was grunting himself in pleasure, groans and moans spilling out as he looked up at you with need written on his own face. He wasn’t a needy man clearly, but in the moment, he looked at you like your cunt was god.

You were aiding him in any way you could in your bouncing, your legs practically spent as you tried to keep up the hopping but it was clear he was doing most of the work. Your hands held onto his as you moved and moved for him. There was the feeling of your eyes starting to roll as he moved his legs under you, his feet placing on the sheets to push up into you harder. Squeaks forced out as his hips started snapping up.

Aemond’s face was beautiful in the throes of pleasure, his cheeks taking on a soft flush, his gaze lush as he looked up at you with an almost soft look. He wasn’t being soft at the moment, but the pleasure coloured his face in the way you imagined a painting would look. His abs clenched with each thrust up. There was something in his gaze though, something calling that this wasn’t just it, but you couldn’t name it.

The burning in your stomach was spreading further and further, teetering on the edge of another climax as he fucked you from below. You knew this time you’d need a little more help to get there, not being used to having more than two orgasms in a night, so you felt no shame as your hand moved away from his to slide between the two of you. Fingers found your clit with ease as you rubbed, a choked moan croaking out as you tried to build up to another climax.

Aemond however had other plans, a tut snapping out his mouth instantly as his hand flew from your hip over yours, knocking it out the way for his own fingers. He wasn’t as soft as you, his own fingers intent on pushing you over the edge with a scream rather than a moan – it was overwhelming but you didn’t shy away from the intensity.

As he rubbed, your eyes looked over him so into giving pleasure, scanning him appreciatively; hands moving to smooth over his stomach as you just took him in. It was hot that all of this was being caught on camera, your eyes lazily drifting to the lens on the bedside as you stared at it – wondering if this would give him the same feeling it was giving you later on.

He could tell that you were nearly there by the noises, the way your warm walls got tighter and tighter around him, and the fact your face was flushing like a rose. A smirk drew up onto his lips as he shifted you slightly, his cock hitting that spot inside you that had your walls snapping around him. Eyes widening as you look at him, not even close to being there.

“Ah—” You cried softly, not panicked but worried about just how far this was going to go as he looked like he was pushing himself away from the edge, “What about—” You strangled out.

He only shushed you with a lazy grin, his head tilting back slightly as he forced you down a little hard; fingers still stroking at you in time with his thrusts. His groans were melodic as he pulled you further and further to the edge.

The tears were spilling down your cheeks and the pressure built in your core, walls tight around his cock that you were surprised that he could even move anymore with how hard you were gripping him. The friction coupled with his fingers on your clit forced the familiar prick to start to build, the feeling of needing to let go insane.

“I—” You moaned loudly, your face starting to screw up, his hips forcing every little noise out as he grunted with effort.

Aemond was just as lost in it as you were, but you could tell he wasn’t as close to letting go as you, his grunts a bit too strained with effort as he tightened his hold on your hips.

“Come on bun,” He breathed out, the air forced from his chest, “Let go for me, I know you want to…”

Everything felt like a melting pot of pleasure and pain, your soft sobs and moans blending together to create something truly pathetic as your chin angled down with effort. If Aemond had neighbours that could hear, you were sure they’d think you were being murdered in here but you just didn’t care anymore, the feeling in your stomach like a balloon that kept expanding till the rubber exploded.

There was a subtle haziness to your vision that was flooding in, the feeling of sweat on your back, and the hairs around your temple starting to stick with effort. Every single nerve in your body felt like someone was grazing over it with a lighter, a subtle shiver building up your spine as you felt your eyes start to slip shut; walls as tight as they could be.

And then there was only ringing, your own ears not picking up the moan that ripped out your throat and into the room as you finally let go. Your vision went white for a few seconds as you felt the familiar gush from your opening and soak Aemond’s length, the slick noises adding to the slapping of skin. Your flesh pimpled with a shiver, from your legs to your nipples perking up as you cried on his length.

Aemond could only watch with a shit-eating grin as you let go of him, his hips moving you through your pleasure as tears leaked down your cheeks.

“Fuck, look at you…” His voice was hoarse with effort, the sound scratching at your brain as the feelings started to come back, “Pretty fucking thing…”

The noises out your mouth turned whiny as he pushed you into overstimulation, the burning in your core too much – he could sense your pain however as he started to slow down, easing you lighter and lighter over his till he stopped. Your chest heaving with effort as you sniffled and cried, arms out and braced in his chest as you kept yourself from completely slumping over.

Moments were fruitless to remember, but you could feel one of his arms slip around your back as he moved the two of you with little effort. The feeling of his cold sheets felt like ice kissing fire as he settled you down onto them carefully, his length still buried in your despite it all.

“I’ve got you…” He hummed softly, a juxtaposition from the hammering you just took from him, “You’re okay, bunny, I’ve got you…”

His hands pushed some of your hair back softly as he chuckled fondly, your body practically melting into the sheets as he laid you on your back. One arm holding him up above you as the other lightly touched your skin, trying not to force you into some space you didn’t need to be.

“You with me?” He asked warmly, this thumb brushing some of the tears off your cheek.

It felt like a herculean effort to open your eyes, the lids swimming with tears as they blurrily opened with a pathetic sniffle and nod.

“There she is…” He chuckled faintly, looking over your face for any signs of distress.

His hair was a curtain over your face as you looked up at him, his image unphased while you melted like ice on a hot day into his sheets. His cock was still very much buried in you, the feeling of fullness causing a twitch of your hips that wasn’t seeking pleasure.

He hadn’t cum and the thought had your eyebrows pulling together.

Sensing your thoughts, he hums softly, head dipping to peck your lips with some affection before mumbling against them.

“Bunny…” You could feel the smirk twitching at his mouth, begging to come out, “You know I’m not done with you yet.”

You let out a soft cry at that, your little sniffle causing a smile on his face as he kissed over your chin, “You know your word, bunny…”

Your body was spent, every nerve you had left was frayed away like a tired electric cable left to rust, sweat and slickness covered your body and overall, you felt ready to wither away.

But fuck, you could not bring yourself to say the word.

Whether you were a glutton for punishment now, all you could do was blink up at him as he faux-fawned over you like a child again.

“But she won’t use it though, will she?” He grinned with teeth, looking down at you with a look that told you he was more than ready to eat you up again, “Such a pathetically needy little thing.”

Your body was very much just his vessel to move around now as he sat back on his knees; cock slipping out of you with a strangled moan from you. Both of his hands slid down your sides, looking down at you with an amused look before he pats your hip.

“Turn over,” He hummed while leaving no room for argument.

You whined softly as you were rolled onto your stomach, a tender feeling flooding your body as you felt his hands caress your backside. Aemond was intent on leaving nothing of you, his hands tugging your hips up with little effort as you moved onto your knees and elbows. Your body blooming like a flower as your limbs shakily held yourself up.

“I’ll take care of you, baby…” He snickered softly, the bed dipping as he stood on his knees behind you, hands firmly on your hips as he pulled you towards him.

“M’tired…” You sniffled softly, face partly in the sheets to muffle the noise.

You couldn’t see him but you could imagine his head tilting in amusement, “You know what to say if you want me to stop, baby…”

But you just couldn’t bring yourself to say the word, your body trembling slightly as he pulled you flush against him; his tip nudging your puffy folds with a soft hum. He knew you weren’t going to say it, the hunger in you winning out to see what another peak would do to you, your eyes fluttering at the thought. There was a brief pause before he was guiding himself back into you with a low moan, the breath knocking out of you as your walls instantly wrapped around him tight to the intrusion again.

He released a breathy moan as his hands tightened on your hips, his own body most likely wound up like a coil from the way he kept himself from letting go before. Aemond gave you a few seconds to adjust again before he was gripping your hips and forcing you back onto him; soft ‘uh’ noises slipping out as he started to rock you into him.

This was the furthest you’d been pushed before but you loved it as he built up a steady rhythm, his breathing starting to pick up and his hand flexing on your hips. Not being able to see him left you with a sense of want, but having him behind you like this had his cock reaching further into you, and that’s all that mattered right now. His hips slapped off your behind with steady thuds as you moaned and whined on his length.

“Fuck.” He gritted slightly, his hips forcing just a bit harder as you gripped onto him like you were trying to suck him in, “Where have you been all my life?”

The compliment was enough to draw a tired giggle out of your mouth as your elbows dug into the bed with effort, your head picking up slightly to try and look back at him. From what you could see, his head was tossed back slightly, his hair brushing his back as he used you again like a little toy just for him. It was hot, and it was letting you muster enough strength to try and work yourself back onto him.

He looked down as you did, a smug little smirk on his lips as he watched you, his hand no doubt leaving marks on your flesh with how tightly he was holding you.

“Oh, she’s found life, has she?” He goaded you, “I was going lightly on you this time for your benefit, baby, but if you’re feeling so energetic.”

Your lips parted as you watched him, a shocked breath tumbling out as he goaded you. A dirty smirk on his face, as one of his hands let go to tangle in your hair, forcing your face forward.

Your eyes widened slightly as they met the lens, in your fog of pleasure you’d forgotten it was there. “Smile for the camera, baby” He taunted.

Something demonic made him, that’s where your mind went before he just let himself go on you. His hands moved back to your hips to fuck you like he wanted; hips slamming into yours with such a force you felt every single noise you could make leave you, leaving your mouth open to wheeze and mewl. Aemond was the loudest he’d been all night, grunts and moans filling the spaces in between the slapping of hips and the slick dribbling down your legs, his voice carrying as he did all the work for you.

You wanted to look at him so bad, but all you could do was blink at the camera as tears of pleasure built in your eyes again. Fingers grasping at the bedding while he worked on rocking every bit of sense you had left out of you. This descent up the peak felt different from the last, your body shaking with something cold and so deliciously good that you wondered why you’d never found someone willing to use you like this before.

He was something else entirely, something that you honestly never wanted to let go of as he fucked you.  If this was only going to be a one-night stand, then god you hoped he imprinted his length into you forever.

He’d mostly stopped talking to you, clearly working on finding his pleasure and your own again, his hips doing the work of a god. His grunt and moans were just music to your ears as your head dropping down to the bed, your sweaty forehead pressed into his sheets as your back arched further into the feeling, seeking everything you could from him as he chuckled through the haze.

“You’re something else,” He murmured between moans, clearly happy with how you were taking it like a champ.

Thrusting alone wasn’t going to cut it, despite how tight your body was wound, and the noises you were letting out probably spoke volumes to that. His lips shushed you slightly with a grunt.

“I know, baby…” He said between his clenched jaw, his hand slipping over your hip and under.

The demon he was, didn’t just go for your clit, however, his hand pressed softly on your lower stomach as you sang for him instantly. A sob left you as you felt yourself get impossibly tighter for a second, the push causing his cock to hit something deep in you that had your knees shaking. He wasn’t about to keep you on edge, his hand sliding down to find your clit as his wrist kept pressed on your lower stomach.

“Aemond…” You moaned a deranged sound from the back of your throat he grunted in response. “Fuck, Aemond please.”

“Just a bit longer, bunny.” He grunted with effort, your eyes widening in the sheets as something built hotter and hotter in you.

The feeling was like a hot iron being struck over and over with each rock of his hips, his fingers coaxing everything out of you. It was a scary feeling to be pushed so far, and you weren’t sure if you could even find that end again, no matter how determined a lover he was.

Aemond wasn’t going to stop until you both tumbled over the edge this time, his grunt building into something harsh as he fucked into you harder and harder; his movements needy as you felt right now. Your breathing was all over the place, torn between gasps and choked noises as you fought your brain to get to the end, your tongue peeking out your mouth slightly in desperation.

If you never slept with someone else again after this, you were so glad that Aemond was the one to muddle your mind into something twisted. The familiar haze of lust clouded your brain again as your knuckles went white on the sheets.

All you could get out was squeaks at this point, your head pressing further and further into the bed as you arched more, thighs slapping with his as he took you to the last lap.

“Bunny.” He grunted, something feral in his tone as he spoke to you, “Are you nearly there, baby?”

The only you could give him was a sob of what sounded like a ‘yes’, there was truly nothing left of you.

The hot iron before was melting in the heat, dripping its molten ooze into your body and fogging your brain. It was impossible to tell who came first, but as you felt his hips drive into one last harsh time with a moan so loud that you’re pretty sure it would be ingrained into your mind forever. You completely let go. Your mind blacked out in a haze of feral lust as the feeling of his spend filled you completely.

You weren’t sure if it was moments or hours anymore, and you’re sure if you could see yourself, you’d be embarrassed by whatever act you were doing. But none of it was a thought in your brain anymore, emptied-headed and fucked. That’s what you were, your brain cutting out as you felt your body slump out of his hold and onto the sheets one last time.

What happened after that exact point, you weren’t really sure, but in the moments after the fall, you felt a soothing hand on your stomach. Your eyes were heavy with exhaustion, barely fluttering open as you adjusted to every sound and feeling around you. There was a warmth between your thighs dribbling out and a hand on your stomach that wasn’t touching with intent, it was stroking so softly like he was trying to coax you back to him. A faint mumbling filled your ears as he soothed you in whatever way he could.

“You’re okay, baby…” He hummed softly, the two of you now lying on the bed, his body leaning on his side as he looked over you. “Did so good for me…”

It was lazy the way your head turned, eyes swimming with tiredness, to look at him.

All Aemond could do was smile lazily back, his own face the most tender it had been all night, “Look who’s awake.”

Your lips parted dryly before they closed again, no energy left to even speak.

“You okay, bunny?” He hummed softly, dipping his head slightly to look at you, eyes warm with care, “You blacked out for a second.”

“I’m okay…” You whispered softly, the flush on your face warm and your body sunk into his bed.

“Good…” He purred, his hand moving off your stomach to reach beyond you.

You had assumed he was turning the camera off, but you were surprised when his hand appeared with a glass; water swishing in the glass as he moved it to you with a soft sigh.

“Drink, baby,” He tutted softly, helping you up with him as he sat up slightly, pressing the glass to your mouth as your hand shakily moved to hold it with him.

God, it really was like finding an oasis in the desert as the cold liquid slipped down your tender throat. Your body leaned partly on his chest as you gulped the water down greedily, his free arm wrapping around you to brush your side softly.

“There you go…” He sighed warmly, making sure you didn’t slip into any uncomfortable place, his lips by your ear as he spoke softly to you, “You were so good for me, baby…”

After a few moments, he placed the glass on the bedside table before pulling you closer to him, his warmth seeping into your skin like a comforting embrace. Aemond’s fingers continued their slow, absentminded tracing along your arm, his touch featherlight, grounding you back into reality.

Your body still tingled from the intensity of the night, exhaustion weighing down your limbs like a heavy velvet blanket. You let out a breath, nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck, inhaling the heady scent of your session that clung to him. Giving yourself a few moments of reprieve from the absolute storm that was him.

A low chuckle rumbled in his chest as he pressed a kiss against your temple. “That tired, hm?”

You hummed in response, words too much effort when all you wanted was to stay wrapped up in him, in this moment. His arm tightened around you, his palm smoothing slow, lazy circles along your back as he held you close. Neither of you spoke, only the sound of your steady breaths filling the dimly lit room.

You weren’t sure how long you stayed like that, wrapped up in his arms, his touch keeping you tethered to reality. But eventually, Aemond let out a soft sigh, pressing a kiss to your hair before carefully slipping from you. The loss of his warmth made you stir slightly, your fingers weakly grasping for him, but he only shushed you gently.

“Just getting you a shirt, bunny,” he murmured, brushing a hand over your cheek before stepping away.

You barely cracked your eyes open as you watched him move, his bare back to you as he rummaged through his drawers. The exhaustion in your limbs made it impossible to do anything but wait, sinking further into the bed as exhaustion tugged at your edges.

Then he was back, helping you up slightly before draping a soft, worn shirt over your head, guiding your arms through it, his touch tender. Once you were settled, he laid you back in the covers again.

“Feeling better?” His tone was softer than usual, but there was something beneath it, something careful, almost hesitant.

You blinked up at him, drowsy, but nodded. “Yeah…”

Aemond exhaled through his nose, his fingers tracing idle patterns on your side. He was drawing shapes you couldn’t understand, his eyes looking over you in his bed, his body still bare to you.

It was almost reverent like the two of you didn’t just fuck like animals for god knows how long, but it was nice, comforting even. Your brain finally settled down as you moaned softly, settling into bed like you never wanted to leave, his face amused as he watched you.

“Can I ask you something, bunny?” He murmured softly breaking the silence, his hand settling on your hip possessively, his eye slightly wicked with intent.

“Hmm…” You tiredly moaned in response, eyes half-lidded and face in his pillow as you tried to listen to him.

He smirked softly, and then, after a beat.

“Come on tour with me.”

While I do not own the characters, I retain full copyright over this written work. Under no circumstances may this content be translated, copied, reposted, or used for AI training or any other purpose without my explicit permission.

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official elon musk hate post reblog to hate like to hate reply to hate

[starstruckwinnerpeanutscissors]

Omg love that art

panem et circenses: ART

─── drawings done by myself that take place within the time frame of my story, "panem et circenses"

─ this fic is on wattpad, under the same user: celestebride if you want to read, here!! જ⁀➴ https://www.wattpad.com/story/387052708-panem-et-circenses-gladiator-ii

─ authors note! these are all drawings between geta, caracalla, and aquila (my oc)! panem et circenses will have multiple romantic (and platonic) involvements (not js geta & caracalla), but the primary relationships that aquila has which occur in act i & act ii happen with geta and caracalla!! :))

I

────────── emperor geta and aquila ─── chapter ???

II

──── emperor geta & emperor caracalla and aquila ─── chapter ???

III

───────── emperor caracalla and aquila ─── chapter ???

check out the book if ur interested!!! :))) . . . xoxo, gossip girl

© celestebride

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Vampires for the win

Daemon Targaryen - Violent Delights

Summary - She finds solace in the blood of Daemon Targaryen, igniting a dangerous, seductive obsession. What begins as a repayment soon becomes a dark dance of hunger, power, and primal desire. Bound by blood and passion, their fates intertwine in a web neither can escape.

Pairing - Daemon Targaryen x Vampire reader

Warnings - Sexual content (smut!), strong language

Word count - 2321

Masterlist for Daemon • House of the Dragon General Masterlist.

King's Landing was an unforgiving place, even for creatures like me. 

It was a city of secrets and shadows, and tonight I was little more than a wretch crumpled against its cold, unforgiving stone. 

The air was thick and cloying, suffused with the acrid scent of sweat, piss, and desperation. My chest heaved with each breath, each inhale a struggle and every exhale a reminder of my hunger—an insidious, gnawing ache that clawed at the edges of my sanity. 

I tried to push the weakness away, willing myself to think clearly, but every ounce of my being screamed for the sustenance I had been denied for too long. 

I needed sustenance. And I needed it soon.

"Well, well... what do we have here?" A voice, low and edged with dark amusement, pierced through the haze.

A figure crouched before me, his presence commanding and unmistakably dangerous. I lifted my eyes, taking in the cloaked silhouette. Even through my weakened state, I recognized him. 

The silver hair, though half-hidden beneath his hood, glimmered in the dim torchlight. 

And then there were his eyes—piercing violet, like shards of polished amethyst. They assessed me with a mixture of curiosity and disdain.

Daemon Targaryen.

"Too much drink, is it?" he drawled, his lips curving into a mocking smile. His words, laced with mockery, cut through the night, but I could sense a glimmer of interest behind his arrogance.

I managed a weak shake of my head, every movement sending a wave of weakness through my limbs. 

"Not enough," I rasped, the words heavy, a desperate plea hidden beneath their weight. 

Each syllable felt like gravel scraping my throat, a reminder of how far I had fallen.

His brows furrowed, and for a moment, I saw something flicker across his face—an emotion too fleeting to name. I could smell his blood, intoxicatingly rich and metallic. 

It sang to me, calling out with a promise of strength and power.

"Help me," I rasped, the plea torn from my throat. His eyes narrowed, but he stepped closer, his hand reaching out to pull me upright. The veins in his arm flexed under his skin, teasing me with every heartbeat. 

So close, yet still so far.

"And what is it you require, stranger?" he asked, his voice a blend of amusement and suspicion, a smirk tugging at his lips.

I caught the faintest scent of his breath—smoky and spiced with wine, the scent of power and indulgence. It only fueled the frenzy building inside me.

I closed my eyes, forcing myself to draw in a steadying breath. When I opened them again, they were no longer clouded with weakness. 

Without hesitation, I bared my fangs and sank them into his exposed arm. His blood flooded my senses, a rush of life and fire. 

He gasped, his body tensing as he tried to pull away, but I clung tighter, desperate for every drop of his divine blood. 

The taste was unlike anything I had ever known—powerful, pure, and exhilarating.

It flowed into me with a molten heat, filling every crack, every dark corner, and rekindling the strength I'd almost forgotten.

With newfound strength, I pushed him back, straddling him and tightening my hold. My hunger was raw and insatiable, and I drank deeply, feeling the energy surge through me. 

Each pulse of his blood was a symphony in my veins, a whisper of promises I had long forgotten.

Finally, I pulled away, gasping for breath. My body thrummed with power, the world no longer spinning but sharpened and bright. 

Daemon's eyes were wide with shock, his face pale. He cradled his wounded arm, staring at me as if I were a nightmare made flesh.

"W-what?" he stammered, struggling to form words as he tried to comprehend what had just happened.

I met his gaze with calm intensity, a faint smile playing on my lips. "What, indeed?" I said, letting the words hang in the air. "You didn't strike me as one who scares so easily."

His jaw clenched, and he shifted, never taking his eyes off me. "You misunderstand me," he shot back, his voice hardening. "I don't scare. I want answers."

I moved closer, the flickering torchlight casting shadows on both our faces. 

"Answers you might not be ready to hear." I reached for his arm again, this time not to bite but to touch the wounds left behind.

"That taste—my taste—lingers, Just as yours does for me," I said softly, letting my voice drop to a dangerous whisper.

I stepped back, pulling my cloak around me, concealing the evidence of what had transpired. My lips were still slick with his blood, and I licked them clean, savouring the lingering taste. 

"I will be back to repay the favour one day," I promised, my voice steady now, carrying the weight of a vow.

"H-how? Wait, what?" he demanded, his voice cracking as he tried to push himself upright. But before he could rise, I melted into the darkness, the shadows swallowing me whole. 

I left him there, alone and reeling as if I had never been there at all.

─── ✦⋅♡⋅✦ ───

A week passed, each day blurring into the next, yet every second a slow torment of yearning. 

It was time to return the favour—or so I told myself. The truth was far more selfish: I craved the taste of his blood. 

Not just any blood, but the rich, forbidden taste of his royal blood—a sweetness that put all this city's wretched veins to shame.

I entered the Keep as if the shadows themselves parted for me, slipping through corridors that should have been guarded and forbidden. 

Stone walls whispered old secrets, but they kept mine well enough. 

I moved with silent purpose, each step drawing me closer to the chambers of the one who had unwittingly captured my desires.

There, in the dim glow of flickering candlelight, I found him. He looked up from the parchment scroll that occupied his hands, his stormy eyes widening, then narrowing with recognition. 

His grip faltered; the scroll tumbled to the floor, forgotten.

"You," he spat, his voice a dagger, as he surged to his feet.

"Me," I replied, a wicked grin stretching across my lips. I crossed the room with feline grace, settling onto the edge of his bed as though it were a throne. My gaze never wavered from his.

The distance between us seemed vast and yet insignificant, charged with all that had passed and all that might yet come.

"You drank my blood," he said, each word dripping with accusation. He thrust out his arm, baring faint bite marks that had not yet fully healed, their scars a fading testament to our last encounter. "Like some cursed witch."

I tutted softly, crossing one leg over the other, leaning back with an almost bored elegance. 

"Not a witch," I corrected, my voice as smooth as silk. "Vampire, to be precise."

The word hung in the air, heavy with implications and truths he could barely grasp.

He glared suspicion and fear warring with each other in his eyes. "It makes no difference. Why are you here?"

I rose slowly, each movement calculated, predatory. "To repay the favour, of course." 

I closed the distance between us in a heartbeat, my fingers finding his wrist. I traced the lines of his veins with a touch that promised both pain and pleasure. 

He shuddered beneath my fingertips, and I felt the quickening of his pulse.

"And," I leaned in, my breath brushing against his ear, "to savour another taste." I bit gently on his lobe, teasingly, before pulling back just enough to watch the conflict raging within him.

"What kind of repayment is this?" he challenged, though his voice trembled.

"The kind you'll never forget," I whispered, letting my lips linger near his jaw. "You didn't hate it last time."

Daemon's breath was quickening. I saw the flicker of doubt in his eyes, but something else lingered there too—something darker, more primal. 

The pull between us was undeniable, even if he was too proud to admit it.

He didn't resist as I led him to the bed, nor did he speak as I guided him down. The disbelief in his eyes was almost endearing—his honour and desire battling for dominance. 

I stripped him slowly, deliberately, savouring the rise and fall of his chest, the tension in his muscles. 

When at last he lay bare before me, I discarded my own cloak, letting it fall to reveal everything he had once dared to want.

"So, you drink blood?" His voice was a thin thread of control, an attempt to anchor himself in reason.

I traced a fingertip along his lips, then down to his throat, feeling the rapid flutter of life just beneath the surface. 

"You make it sound like a sin," I murmured, my voice low and seductive. I pressed my body against his, grinding slow and sensuous, stealing the breath from his lips.

"It feels like a sin," he countered, but the words lacked conviction. 

I smiled, my hips moving with tantalizing precision. He inhaled sharply, surrender written across every line of his body.

"Will you let me repay the favour?" I whispered, threading my fingers through his hair, my nails scraping lightly against his scalp. 

His hands, strong and desperate, gripped my waist, urging me onward.

"Y—yes," he stammered, then found his voice, steadier this time. "Yes." His eyes closed, and I saw him give in, surrendering to this dance of shadows and desire.

I lifted my hips, allowing him to align us, sinking down with a slow, deliberate rhythm that left us both gasping. 

Each movement was a calculated dance of seduction, my body responding to his with an intimacy honed over centuries, each rise and fall a new form of temptation. 

The warmth of his hands on my skin was like fire, igniting every nerve with an electric pulse.

He groaned a sound that made my heart race, and I drank in the noise as deeply as I craved the taste of his blood. 

The raw, primal need in his voice sent a tremor through me, feeding something dark and insatiable within.

"That's it, darling," I coaxed, my voice velvet and dark, each syllable wrapping around him like a chain, pulling him deeper into the web we were creating. 

He met me thrust for thrust, our bodies entwined in a slow-burning fire that felt both ancient and new. 

His hands roamed, desperate to claim, desperate to remember the shape of me—every curve, every sigh, every whisper.

"Fuck, you feel so good," he moaned, his voice thick and ragged, breaking like waves on the shore. 

His hands gripped me desperately, fingers digging in as if to anchor himself to something solid while I moved above him with effortless grace, pushing him closer to the edge. 

I revelled in the rawness of his touch, the way he could never seem to get close enough.

When at last I bared my fangs, his eyes widened in recognition, the flash of vulnerability only adding to the allure. 

But there was no hesitation, no fear. He made no move to stop me, only leaned into the inevitable, as if he had already surrendered himself to the hunger that pulsed between us.

"Let me taste," I purred, my voice thick with the promise of something ancient, something that went beyond desire. 

He tilted his head, his throat exposed to me like an offering, a gesture both submissive and regal. 

In that moment, I owned him, but in his eyes, there was a fire that begged me to take everything.

With a sigh, I sank my fangs into him, and the taste of his blood flooded me, hot and intoxicating—a surge of power and pleasure so potent it made me gasp. 

The sweetness of him, rich with the bitterness of rebellion and the depth of his lineage, took me deeper into a frenzy of need. 

His blood was a drug, and I was helplessly addicted, each swallow a deeper pull into something I knew could consume me entirely.

The strength of him surged through me, and with every thrust, every movement of our bodies, I became wilder, more desperate. 

His blood coursed through my veins, lighting every nerve, every cell on fire. 

I was drunk on him, and the only thing I could focus on was the taste, the heat, the way his pulse pounded under my tongue.

His moans turned ragged, hands clutching, grasping, desperate to pull me closer as if we could become one. 

Our movements grew more urgent, more frenzied, driven by the hunger that neither of us could deny. We were tethered in this moment, bound by flesh, blood, and desire.

"More," he whispered, voice raw and needful, the word a command and a plea. "Take more."

And I obeyed, plunging deeper, drinking deeply from the wellspring of him. The heat of his blood heightened every sensation, every thrust, every movement. 

We were on the precipice of something beyond pleasure, beyond pain—two souls tangled in the ebb and flow of hunger and release.

We reached the peak together, cries of ecstasy tearing from our lips, our bodies shaking with the force of it. 

Time seemed to stand still as the world shattered and reassembled around us, each breath mingling, becoming one. 

His blood, his body, his voice—all of it melded together in a wave of overwhelming pleasure.

Spent and sated, I withdrew, licking away the last traces of his blood, savouring the feeling of him inside me—both physically and in every sense deeper than that. 

I wiped my mouth, the taste of him lingering on my lips, and eased off his body, lying beside him with a quiet satisfaction.

For a long moment, neither of us spoke. 

The silence that followed was thick with meaning, the weight of secrets shared and desires fulfilled—of something deeper stirring between us, an unspoken understanding that we were bound in a way neither of us could deny. 

And even though we lay there, satiated for the moment, I knew that this—what we had just shared—would inevitably bring us together once more.

A/n - I finished writing 'Blood of the Night' for Aegon and had to write this 🤭

[starstruckwinnerpeanutscissors]

The Tower's Lost Maiden Pt.1

Targaryen Fam x Hightower! Reader

Reader, the oldest Hightower child, makes a sacrifice to protect their younger sister alicent. Knowing or Unknowingly altering their fathers plan.

Containing: Reader takes the place of Alicent in this, Aemma is still alive (Baelon isnt)

Featuring: cranky Daemon, cranky Nyra, teenage rebellion, brotherly rebellion, mentions of negligence, emotional/mental abuse and manipulation aka otto being the dad he is.

----

It had been a little over several years since you had last seen your little sister Alicent. Since you had remained in Oldtown with your younger brother when she had been taken to ward at Kingslanding.

You and him were currently on your way to see her for the tourney in the soon-to-be born princes name. The Queen Aemma would soon be beginning her labours anyday now and the king was more than eager to celebrate the coming of a new royal child.

When your carriage stops in the clearing of the red keep, the moment your foot is once again on solid ground, you are almost bowled over by a fast moving force.

Your sister.

"SISTER!" She squeals arms wrapped tightly around your shoulders. Laughing at her enthusiasm you pick her upand squeeze her tightly.

"It is good to see you." You whisper. "How have you been?" Before Alicent can say anything you bother also steps out.

"What? No hugs for me? You wound me?" He jests

You both roll your eyes and catch up with each other. You spot Princess Rheanyra standing a ways a way and wander over to offer greetings. "My princess" your curtsy. "I think a congratulations may be in order, for your new status as an elder sibling" you smile.

She smiles poliety, saying nothing. You can tell the edges of it are strained. You change the topic.

"Tell me princess, how has my sister been faring here? She writes to me often enough but i fear she hides the trouble she gets into with you at her side so she doesnt get a scolding from me." You tease. Rheanyra seems to brighten a bit at the word trouble, and hushly begins to whisper all the secrets as Alicent makes her way over.

"You better not be spilling falsehoods to my sister Rheanyra" she says, her friend laughs

"Of course not! I speak only truths" she gasps playfully. "We were merely sharing stories, i was just about to tell her of that one time with the lemon cakes-"

Alicent gasps and shushes the princess. He face flushed.

"Not that one please!" She whispers

"Where we were in the gardens-" the princess continues, ignoring her friends pleas and ever reddening cheeks.

"Sssshhhhh Rheanyra!"

"-Where you ate too much-"

"Rheanyra!" She hisses harshly

"-And threw up on your skirts in front of one of the cute knights" she finishes, giggling at the torment of her friends face.

"Rheanyra.... was sooo embarrassing!!" She whines, hiding her face in your shoulder. You laugh and rub her back soothingly.

"Do not fret sister, it was bound to happen. I hear the lemon cakes in kings landing are among the best in the realm." You reassure. Smiling lovingly "Im beyond happy that you have found such a wonderful companion in the princess, you should enjoys such luxuries with reckless abandon. It is what childhood is for."

She smiles at the reassurance and hugs you tight. You chat and giggle while the three of you prepare for the tourney.

---

You clasp the hand of alicent tightly as the scene before you unfolds. Your brother, Gwayne, had been unhorsed dramtically. You let her clutch your habd to the point of hurting as the three of you watch on; gasps of shock and horror rippling through the crowd. For what seems like hours gwayne finally stands, his feet still slightly unsteady. You heave a quiet sigh of relief when he does, though you cant help but notice how he limps the tiniest fraction and pray that itll pass with rest. You're snapped out of your reverie as the Rouge Prince's trots up to the royal box; a smirk wide on his lips.

"My dear lady hightower, would you do me the honor of granting me your favour for this tournament?" He proclaims loudly, voice echoing and tone smug. Alicent tightens her hild on you, paralysed and unsure. You place your other hand on hers as you stand. The prince never specified which lady hightower.

"But of course my prince" you respond with the same gusto "may my favour grant you good fortune" you throw it down to him, partially hoping you threw it poorly enough for him miss the catch or drop it. Unfortunately his dexterity was superior and he catches it with ease. Making a show of kissing it and displaying it to the crowd whom cheer heartily at his victory.

You roll your eyes as you take you deat again. The tourney couldnt come to an end sooner.

---

Sometimes you wish the gods listened to you at the times you wanted them to.

The next time you find yourself at your sister and the Princess's side is at the funeral of the newly-born prince Baelon. Queen Aemma; whom had just barely survived the birth, lay resting in the royal chambers, though vulturous rumors circled that the dear queen would not survive the night, the loss of boold being too much. Rheanyra stood alone, the weight of the loss and the absence of her mother seeming to weigh heavy. Daemon approaches her, whispering things in a language your dont understand. She responds in kind, her voice cracking with emotions as she stares off toward her father solemnly. You can gather from the minimal context what she may be feeling.

She was a daughter. Not a son.

Being a first-born daughter yourself, you found you heart aching more for the princess than for the loss of the queen. You of course never had the pleasure or honor of interacting with her, having being forced to spend most of your time in oldtown, never really doing much outside of your lessons and fending of the advances of the men at court. So your grief was merely superficial, but you had gotten to know the princess quite well in the brief time you had been at her side.

The pyre is set ablaze by dragonfire at Rheanyra's command. You stare at the inferno, unshed tears bring burnt away as you come to the young heirs side and grip her hand fiercely. Unspoken words lingering in the comforting touch.

---

"You sweet, dumb girl Alicent" you hiss harshly. Alicent drops her gaze, looking like a lost puppy who has just been kicked "Are you sure that is what father said? You DO know what he asks of you right?" You scold

"Yes but-" she whimpers

"Do you value your relationship with the princess? Hmm? You do know that if you do through with this you will make that love forfeit. It would be naive of you to think otherwise." You tone is cold and a touch cruel, you know it is not your young sisters fault, as she was still deluded into thinking she could gain the love of a father whom had probably lost the ability to love when your mother had died. "Father seeks to use you, he does not care about our wants, and you, so willing and wanting of his love and pride will follow meekly along with is word to get something he is incapable of giving."

Your rant leaves the young girl sniffling. Heart breaking at the sound, you cross the room to where she sits and crouch down to meet her eyes.

"I say this with all the love i possess, this is a bad idea. Do not follow this order. You came to me because you know in your heart you do not want this. You came to my chambers at this hour because you wanted my guidance. Now heed it" you say sternly, wiping the beginnings of her tears "The princess will see this as a betrayal, and she will be right to do so. I know as daughters it is our duty to behave and adhere to our fathers law, but we should also seek ways to find contentment and carve out a small place to suit us whevenever and wherever possible with the limited power we have. Only truly powerful women know how to do this, and it cannot bedone without allies" you council.

"Then what do we do" alicent cries

"On the morn, we seek the princess, and do everything in our power to gain her favour and support. I have a plan, if father wishes to have a daughter made queen then he shall have it. But itll be done on our terms, and with the consent of the princess"

---

The garden is deathly silent. The fire of the princess Rheanyra burns through both you and your sister; who clings to your hand and cant meet the young dragons gaze.

"And you were going to do this? Without so much as a question?" She hisses

"My Princess" you soothe "if i may speak on behalf of my sister... she came to me in the eve of the wolf and told me that the maesters and small council had deemed the queen unfit to bear more children due to her trauma."

You tone is cool and calculated, bordering on unfeeling. "I advised her that following our fathers will to becoming the kings second wife would be unwise, as she values your friendship more than anything. Which is why we come to your now. To offer our sympathies to your plight, our condolences for the position you family finds themselves in... and a propersistion."

"And what would that be hmm? Let you become my father second wife?" Rheanyra huffs. Arms folded defiantly. Unimpressed.

"Yes" you reply bluntly. Both young girls look at you in shock at your apparant rudeness. "Saying this may make me appear power-hungry, i am aware. But i assure you i do this for the best interests for you and my sister both."

"And you expect me to believe you? You Hightowers have been grasping at the throne you covet so badly you arent even hiding it anymore!" Rheanyra sneers "explain to me why it would be in my 'best interest' didnt you wish to not play into your fathers hands as you claim?"

"The small council will continue to clamour about a male heir. They cannot conceive the notion that a queen would rule better than king. You are the kings heir now, a room full of the kings lords swore to it. A sight i will never forget. I stand with you princess, would it not be beneficial having the second wife of the king be the strongest supporter of your claim? My only wish is the spare my sister from the fate of a mother and bride for a few more years. There is no love lost between me and my father, he has no more control over me as yours does you. I am loyal to the crown. Yours, princess. And only yours."

Rheanyra hums thoughtfully, eyes scanning yours. She squints and you fear for a moment that she may be unmoved by your tirade. "After all princess, your mother the queen is your fathers greatest love. Im not here to replace her... only the sate the clamouring of men who wish for brood mare to gift the realm with a male heir. One that will, unfortunately for them, not succeed the true first born... should such a child ever manage to be conceived"

Rheanyra smirks at the implication you hand deliberately but delicately into the air. It is alicent who speak next, her tone almost vicious. "You cant be serious about this sister! What about what you said last night, that the princess would be betrayed."

"Only if it had been you sister, and if you had done so behind her back. Do not be so quick as to forget the anger that was just leveled at us both for the information we presented to her. Im on my 2nd year on the marriage-market, i have yet to wed, mainly because the men at court in oldtown are as old as the town itself and i wished for freedom with my books and histories. Father wants a daughter queen, he only chose you for the closeness and your willingness to please. Trust me in that i love you most and wish for your wellness." You reason, pinching her cheeks and giggling as she swats you away. "What else did i say last night?"

"That we as women need to carve out a small place for us to be contented, with the little power we are able to weild..." she mumbles. You look at her with a raised brow "... and that it cannot be done without allies"

"Exactly. now the plan begins in earnest... and soon father will hear the good news"

---

Some weeks later, you, alicent and the princess are present in the small council meeting. King Viserys sits at the head of the table, looking upon the other men with an unreadable face.

"After many considerations i have decided to take Lady (Name) Hightower as my second wife." The room erupts into chaos. The elderly maester looks ready the faint and your father is both as pale and seemingly enraged.

"Two wives?!" The maester splutters "But the words of the Seven-"

"Was it not your words saying that it would be ill advised if the queen Aemma were to come with child again? And are you all not also clamouring for a secure line of sucession? Offering up your own daughters for the next queen when my wife if still alive and breathing." He shouts silencing the room.

You try your hardest to remain stoic and to not make the Princess's eye; for fear of blowing your plan. Not that it would fool your snake of a father. The king approaches you and you cursty.

You try not to flinch away from his hole in front of everyone. Because although you had suggested it, you really werent too fond of the idea. This was for the princess. To stop a man like your father from sinking his claws in any deeper.

For the good of the realm and its future queen. Dont falter now.

---

"Gods be good girl what were you thinking!" Your father hisses at you. The moment the council had concluded, and you all had been dimissed, your father Otto had cornered you with a face of thunder.

"I thought it was part of plan to have a daughters seduce the king? Or did you imagine someone... a little more pliable to your... desires?" You whisper back. "Whatever tje case may be father, the queen requests an audience with me. And it would be rude to keep her waiting."

You saunter off quickly. Not stopping until you get to the Queen's chambers. Heart hammering from the confrontation. The mantra you played in council chamber resurfacing.

Unfortunately before you are within the chambers safety you are stopped again. This time by Daemon. You bow.

"My prince. Good morrow, unfortunately i have an audience with the Queen so i cant-" you begin, however you are quickly silenced when the rogue prince roughly grabs your wrist and pulls you to pin you against the cold stone wall.

Your quickened heart beats at pace you are sure is unhealthy, it leave you stammering for breath at the man leans in to whisper. A hand, tipping your chin to force your gaze.

"I know what games you play... Hightower whore. Playing the daintly naive lady to slip into my brothers bed to steal our family's power. I admit it was fun at first.... but mark my words, any harm that befalls my kin, will be met with the fire and blood of yours."

He wanders away swiftly. Leaving you alone just outside the chambers. You steady your breathing as best as you can. The dull pangs in your wrist still evident when you push the door open to meet with the Queen.

You could only pray you hadnt just made the biggest mistake of your life trying to save your fool of sister.

[starstruckwinnerpeanutscissors]

Aemond loves her brown hair, so dark and shiny, always smelling like cherry from her oils, it’s so smooth and pretty. He loves playing with it or twirling it around his fingers, tugging and gripping it when he’s splitting her in half, making it messy. He loves her hair.

He doesn’t like his nephews hair. It’s dull and boring, it looks like dirt, no one likes dirt, it’s gross and smells. Their hair doesn’t smell like cherry, and it doesn’t shine like his wife’s, guess the gods wanted to show they were filthy, savage, bastards unlike his pretty wife.

He tell his wife as much when she cries thinking he hates her hair and finds her ugly that’s why he’s always tugging it and getting her to bend her neck backwards, poor thing doesn’t know it just turns him on when she looks up at him with her big brown puppy eyes.

ALL OF THIS !!

Poor thing . Aemond is so grabby and has to pull her close whilst he ruins her

[starstruckwinnerpeanutscissors]

It would be a little unconventional

Summary: Aegon and (Y/n) just married. No one has seen them in the last four days. But that doesn't change the fact that half the castle can hear what they're doing.

Word count: 1.309

Autors note: a bit subby Aegon, anal fingering, well... smut as you may have guessed

"How long has it been since anyone's seen them?", Daemon asked the group, bored.

Rhaenyra smirked. Alicent killed her wine goblet with a look. Jaecerys surprisingly joined Alicent and cut his flesh with more force than necessary.

"Daemon." Rhaenyra rebuked him, still smirking.

He was not impressed. "When was the last time you saw them?", he asked her directly.

She rolled her eyes. "At the wedding.", she replied curtly.

"Which was four days ago.", he added just as curtly.

"Princess, perhaps you should-"

The door to the dining room opened. All eyes shot to (y/n) like moths to a flame.

"Is that your night gown?" Jaecerys asked his sister in shock.

"Yes.", (Y/n) said curtly and immediately grabbed various dishes from the table. She threw a handful of bread rolls onto the plate of fruit, which she simply took and immediately reached for a carafe of wine.

"You can't walk around-"

(Y/n) immediately interrupted her brother. "I'm already off again. Just relax. By the gods."

"Where's Aegon?", asked Alicent.

(Y/n) smiled. "He's asleep."

"At such an early hour?"

"He was tired." (Y/n) shrugged and pressed the carafe of wine into the hand of the member of the Kingsguard who had been following her until just now.

"Long night?", Daemon grinned.

(Y/n) grinned. "It seemed rather short lived to me."

Jaecery's glass shattered in his hand, his grip was so firm.

With that, (Y/n) simply turned round again and motioned to the man from the Kingsguard to follow her. He complied, overwhelmed.

Aemond watched with satisfaction as Jaecerys and Lucerys shoved their food back into themselves with an angry look. "Be glad you can't hear them.", he said to his nephews, sounding bored. "Whorehouses sound more chaste than those two."

Jaecerys leapt across the table towards him.

"Aegon?" she whispered, jerking his shoulder slightly.

"Ngh.", he sighed and curled up, pulling the blanket tighter around him.

"I got something to eat."

A snore was her reply.

She sighed. Had she overdone it? Was it too much for him? He liked sex. She knew that. She liked sex. They had sex. A lot of sex... Mainly because of her. And she wanted to do it again. Was she overwhelming him? Him? Aegon II Targaryen, who had spent his entire adolescence shagging his way through every brothel he could find?

She looked at his sleeping face. How could he look so innocent after what they'd both been doing for the last four days?

She poured herself a cup of wine and sat down in the armchair in the room.

The last few days had been wonderful and exciting. They had tried each other out before the wedding, but had always been careful not to risk pregnancy. They hadn't gone all the way. They also had to meet in secret. They had to be quiet. But now. Now they weren't holding back. And by the gods she would do anything to hear the sounds he was making. Those little sighs. The whimpers. The high clear moans when he was about to come. His eyes. Watery and so big as they looked up at her. He didn't want to believe that she had already read a thing or two.

That she wasn't completely ignorant. She was sure he wouldn't question her creativity again.

She sipped her wine and gazed into the fire of the flickering fireplace.

But perhaps she was really overdoing it. Everyone always made fun of how much lust Aegon had indulged in over the years. But she understood. Would people make fun of her too?

She heard the blanket rustle. She turned her face towards the bed. Aegon sat up, his face scrunched up. He rubbed his eyes. His hair was sticking up wildly from his head. Irritated, he looked around, then his gaze landed on her. "What are you doing?", he asked, pouting slightly and still sounding sleepy.

She looked at her glass. "I'm drinking wine." ,she explained simply.

Aegon pouted more. "What are you doing in that armchair? Come here!", he whined.

She grinned awkwardly. "I just thought you might want a break.", she mumbled.

Aegon furrowed his eyebrows in irritation. "From what?"

"Well..." she pointed vaguely at the bed. "From me-"

"If I want a break from fucking my wife, or letting her fuck me,", he winked at her, "I'll let you know."

She smiled awkwardly. "It's not too much?"

He shook his head with a smile. "If anything, I've got a few books and we'll try everything I found in there."

She grinned. Playfully, she stood up. "Anything you want to start with?"

Aegon smiled. "It would be a little unconventional.", he purred.

He gripped her hips as she settled on his lap.

"Tell me about it.", she whispered and kissed his neck softly.

His breath trembled. "There's a contraption. A harness and... hmmm... and a fake phallus. You could take me with that. Fuck me."

"And that's good for you?"

"I never come harder."

"Explain it to me.", she sighed against his neck.

Aegon reached out to take her hand. Without hesitation, he took two of her fingers in his mouth. One would almost think, he wanted to blow her fingers, licking over her tender skin with such fervour.

"Fuck.", she sighed. His eyes were glassy and so wonderfully veiled.

Aegon released her fingers and lay on his back. She moved beneath him. He quickly shoved one of the pillows under his bum and spread his legs. "And now-", he placed her fingers at his opening. His breathing was shaky. "Start with one finger. Push upwards. There... fuck... there's a point... Ha."

He dropped his head powerlessly into the pillows as she slowly slid her finger inside him. "Like this?"

"Yes! Fuck yes!"

She pressed in further. Watched his face. The crease between his eyebrows. The closed eyes. The slightly open mouth.

"Add the second one. But slowly."

She complied with his request. "Does it hurt?"

He shook his head. "It only stings at first. It's better with oil."

She grinned. "Do you do that to yourself?", she whispered against his ear.

He grinned. "As often as I can."

She grinned. "You like it?"

He nodded quickly. "Move your fingers. Like you're fucking me."

She withdrew her fingers and pushed them back in. Aegon sighed happily.

"You were talking about a point."

He nodded. "Further in. That's right. Press your fingertips upwards. A little to the right. Ah, right there! Oh fuck. Fuck!"

She drew little circles over the spongy spot. "Like this?"

Aegon groaned, whimpering. "Yes.", he whimpered. "Faster. Please. AH!"

She complied with his request. She started kissing his neck again. Caressed his skin. "Can you come just like that?"

Aegon simply nodded. Unable to speak. The sight made her feel the heat between her legs. She felt the wetness. He lay decadently in front of her and she savoured the sight of him.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK!" Aegon's semen shot all over his chest and down to his chin. Even (Y/n's) cheek was not spared.

His body tensed. It felt like his insides wanted to break her fingers.

He drove his ass towards her fingers like a madman. Much longer than usual, he floated in ecstasy before his body collapsed.

He lay there, beaten and unable to move.

"Holy mother.", he sighed.

(Y/n) giggled. She kissed his cheeks. She playfully rubbed her nose against the shell of his ear. "I don't think I've ever been so wet.", she whispered.

Aegon's body trembled. He smiled slightly.

"I can't move a muscle, but... If you want a repeat of last night...", he grinned mischievously at her.

She bit her lip. She positioned her thighs next to his head.

"But tell me if I get too heavy.", she smirked.

"I'd die a happy man," he grinned.

[starstruckwinnerpeanutscissors]

Austerity

Emperor Geta x Empress Reader

Rating: Explicit (minors DNI, 18+ only)

Summary: You are Geta's heavily pregnant Empress and shadow puppeteer of the Empire. You awake to find a secret meeting taking place behind your back and you take measures to keep it from happening again.

Word count: 3.6k

Warnings: Mentions of pregnancy and accompanying symptoms, duplicity, kidnapping/forced/arranged marriage, reader's culture of origin is disparaged, power imbalance, misogyny, mentions of destitution/poverty, class differences, loss of virginity recalled (with pain and blood - brief), pretty graphic mentions of smut, supernatural shit maybe kinda, mentions of witchcraft, not even a little historically accurate, i played fast and loose bc that is not the point of this, not proofread, lmk if I missed anything

A muggy wind carrying the light fragrance of bay laurel leaves disturbed the billowing curtains at the window of your opulent chambers. Your naked form stirred on the bed. You kept your eyes closed, distantly hoping that the disturbance to your sleep would be blessedly temporary. For your body ached perpetually with the life growing inside you and it seemed that no amount of sleep these days refreshed you. 

You deduced, after sleep continued to evade you, that it was not to be. You opened your eyes as you stretched on the bed. You then noticed the absence of your husband, who had retired with you, glancing to his side of the bed to see the swoops in the bedding where he’d slipped out some time in the night. 

You sat up, noticing the absence of light from the window. There was no citrusy hue lining the horizon to indicate daybreak. Just piercing blackness and the dance of the breeze through the curtains. 

You rubbed your growing belly, mentally scanning your body for the discomfort that had surely stirred you from sleep. “What is it now, my parasitic little prince?” you asked your belly. 

No reflux burned the column of your throat. Your nausea had disappeared some months ago, thank the gods. The pain in your back, though omnipresent, barely registered at the moment. Your sleep had been as bereft of dreams as the sky was of light. You did not hunger or thirst and you felt no irrepressible pregnancy horniness now. You were grateful for that, since your husband was not here to service you. 

It was then that you noticed something familiar. A point of blue light, as a sunbeam through a prism, dancing steadily against the far wall, beckoning you to notice. You knew this light well - it had visited you many times since your childhood. A quiet sentinel, gently drawing your attention. A guiding light in the truest sense of the word. 

Your eyes followed the wisp as it glided across the wall to the open window where it faded with no fanfare. You got the message and strode nude to the window and walked out onto your balcony. That same warm breeze kissed the loose tendrils of your flowing hair. 

Your eyes scanned over the scene before you. You surveyed the courtyard, the trees and flowers of the expansive gardens shrouded in oppressive darkness. Only the stark white of the colonnade that wrapped along the northern edge of this wing of this massive domus pierced the dark. And it was here that you saw what your little wisp companion was trying to signal to you. 

You saw a spotty procession of dimmed lamps blinking out briefly behind the columns before reappearing in your sights. Their destination was clear. The disembodied flames disappeared into a seldom-used antechamber where they would no doubt be headed for the atrium. This passageway was only used when one’s ingress into the domus was meant to be clandestine. 

What in the fresh fuck is this? you hissed into the darkness.  

You had no time to summon your most trusted maid to dress you. You wouldn’t want to disturb her if you could. So you opened your wardrobe and rooted around for the simplest garments you owned. You secured the maroon linen strophium over your swollen breasts and improvised the fabric of a stola into a subligar to cover your lower bits. You grabbed one of your husband’s ostentatious lounging robes and slipped it over your shoulders as you tore out the door of your cubiculum. 

Your stride was sure and unbreakable as you met the shocked gazes of the guards stationed along the halls. The more seasoned ones averted their gazes and dipped at the waist in acknowledgment as they gently asked after your wellbeing. 

You were sure that you looked a sight, your pregnant, barely dressed form marching through the corridors, hair untamed about your head. You were clearly not infirm, though, as evidenced by the speed of your march. You were pissed. 

“At ease,” you assured them here and there in a firm voice. “As you were.” You didn’t want to pick up a tail and you did not want to be prevented from reaching your destination. “Don’t mind me.”

As you neared the mouth of the atrium, one of the newer guards met your flickering gaze with wide eyes, his voice timid as he choked out, “Augusta?” He winced, clearly fearful that he’d gazed too long at you, unadorned. His eyes flicked to the ceiling. “Are you well?”

“Not as such, Miles,” you shot dryly. Your steps halted then as you slowly turned back to him. His gaze remained fixed on the ceiling as you approached to stand toe to toe with him. He stood stock still as you reached for his hip and slowly withdrew his sword. 

You gripped the hilt, testing its weight in your hands, appraising the blade. “I’ll return this presently,” you promised, disappearing into the atrium.

The soldier watched you leave. He blinked sharply at the large, horned shadow that seemed to slink along the wall behind you, willing the image away. He wondered to himself if his station in this unhinged empire was already beginning to erode his sanity. 

***

Geta leaned wearily on one of the armrests of his chair rubbing irritated circles into one of his temples with tented fingers. His gaze drifted along the assemblage of statesmen that stood in a semi-circle around him. The scowls of the gathered senators and merchants in the dimly lit atrium was a waking nightmare.

Marcus Acacius stood outside of the circle looking much as Geta himself felt. He was grateful to have an ally in his present misery.

Being peeled from his sleeping wife’s side in the wee hours to discuss that very wife was not only irritating but worrying. Shielding you from the growing vitriol of these men had become his singular occupation, disguised as statecraft. He’d hoped that impregnating you with his heir would calm the aristocratic unrest that now encroached on your very bedchamber. But as your belly grew, so did your brazenness. Your insistence that reason prevail across the empire, starting with the emperors, senate and gentry in the heart of Rome.

He wanted to tell himself that he’d done well at concealing your hand in the new sensibility that pervaded his inner sanctum. You rarely addressed the senate or the nobility, at least not in any formal way. But the second you had been brought to the palace from your rustic, far flung kingdom at the edge of the Empire, the very winds of Rome had shifted. And everyone could sense it, from priest to layman, from noble to slave. The writing was on the wall. The moment he’d declared his intention to take you for a wife, the changes were undeniable.

You’d witched Caracalla first. When Acacius brought you before the pair of them, flanked by filthy, gaunt soldiers that had been beset with inordinate misfortune on their way back from retrieving you from your kingom, you stood before them with bright eyes and healthy color in your face. There was no sign on your person of the pestilence and unseasonably bad weather that had followed the lot of you from your kingdom. Even Marcus, ever steadfast, had not been unaffected. But you, beautiful creature that you were, had weathered the misfortune just fine. Somehow.

Caracalla’s naive disposition made him ignore the obvious strangeness of you. He glommed onto you, demanding unbecoming amounts of private time with you even though the intention had always been for Geta to make you his wife. 

Geta had been sure at first that his brother had fucked you during your unauthorized tete-a-tetes, which he’d made every attempt to stop. But his brother, the sneaky little imp, always found you in your solitude. 

And after some weeks of you being in the city, Caracalla had changed, too. His pallid, sore-addled face became smooth and evenly-colored. The constant deadness behind his eyes had disappeared, replaced by a sharpness that one could almost mistake for wisdom. Even his hair had darkened, cutting through the pastiche of lasting, sickly boyhood that had followed the little fucker around for his whole life. His tantrums were almost non-existent and he had a new thirst for knowledge and joie-de-vivre. He never instigated fights with Geta anymore about the distribution of power. He seemed to have lost his thirst for the power of imperial rule altogether, choosing study and leisure time in the company of a solitary concubine and pet monkey. 

Eventually, Geta was able to get his hooks into you. In the days leading up to your wedding -which had been delayed pending senatorial deliberations about its diplomatic merit- Geta always knew your whereabouts. Nothing you did escaped his attention. 

On the wedding night, he wasn’t entirely sure what to expect. In the solitude of your matrimonial cubiculum, he appraised your body, tortured by the thought that Caracalla may have gotten to you first. But when he peeled your gown and veil off, he saw something in your eyes that he’d never seen before. A fear. An apprehension. 

When he finally took you, it was clear that you had been untouched. He had been sure to make you plenty wet and to be very gentle with you. Not for your comfort, though, no. He only wanted to see if you would still have the telltale discomfort of first intercourse even when being treated with tender deference. His touch was whisper soft and still you bled and whimpered. Geta was satisfied that you had come to him a virgin, as advertised.

Of course your fuck-shyness was not to last. You two did have the embers of Venus's kiss burning steadily beneath your union. In fact, you confided to Geta during some pillow talk that you'd prayed to Venus on your journey to the city. You implored her to make you fall hopelessly in love with whomever had snared you into his imperial marriage contract. At the very least, you could hope that your cunt wouldn't snap closed at the sight of him.

And you spent a good long while learning one another's bodies and making one another insatiable. It was a wonder to Geta that it had taken so many moons for you to fall pregnant.

Once you'd settled into matrimony, you spent more time together in and out of bed and it quickly became apparent to Geta why his brother had been so taken with you.

You had a calming, sober whimsy despite the intensity often flared behind your eyes. You had a way of explaining your world view that was at once sophisticated yet unguarded and reachable. It was this that made Geta realize that you were witching him now.

His life had been mired in opulence and shades of vicarious glory. It was all he knew, and yet, when you spoke pretty words of egalitarianism and balance, it felt like he was crawling toward a hearth whose warmth he could once only dream of. He knew it wasn't his provenance of thought but he was so drunk on his love for you that he scarcely cared. You witch.

Besides which way, you made him see that if his head didn't end up on a pike, his son's would if the rumblings of rebellion were ignored. You were so clear-minded and measured in your appraisals.

He was pulled back into the present by a fleck of spittle on his cheek. One of the merchants was veering dangerously close to chastising him.

“Forgive me, Imperator, but the subsidies for women and children were one thing. Broadening comitia tributa elections amongst the plebian populace and the slaves, however is…”

Geta felt his eyes glaze over as they drifted to the columns on the far wall. Without Caracalla to blunt the proceedings with his impressive tantrums, Geta had been left to field endless complaints from these landed carcasses and he'd grown weary.

It was then that he saw your face. You could have been leagues away from him and he would have recognized the fire in your eyes. And that shadow that sometimes followed you, the ghastly, underworldly spectre that presided over you when you were cross. It wasn't just him. Many swore they'd seen it and its horns…

Geta straightened as you emerged from the shadows, his audience none the wiser. Except for Acacius. He saw him lift his chin in quiet acknowledgment of you. The General seemed to have a preternatural sense when you were near and roused.

Virgil may as well have been presiding over the scene as the old men tripped over themselves to oh so gently indict your character just as you stalked toward their turned backs.

“We know your Empress has enamored you with her primitive ways, and no man could blame you for being given to…to her-” 

“To her what, Senator?” 

The men turned at the sound of your dulcet yet resonant voice sounding off the walls of the atrium. It was startling given how soft spoken you were in public. Few had experienced the hidden power of your speaking voice.

The men took in your appearance. The wiser ones averted their gaze at your indecency. Geta himself was struck dumb, enraptured. 

Your tits, swollen with impending motherhood, were covered in a linen bandeau. In your haste to crash the proceedings, you had covered yourself from the hips down in a drape that was meant to give you an air of stateliness and modesty in your official capacity. But to see you in the robe that he once donned during orgies was what set his loins aflame now. The fabric listed carelessly from your shoulders. His balls felt suddenly heavy at the sight. 

You stood primly, your hands folded over the hilt of the sword tucked beneath your arm. Your expression was unreadable as it often was before strangers.

The Senator whose voice had been so strong before faltered.

“Augusta, you'll forgive my imprudence-”

“Will I?” you retorted.

Geta’s lips curled into a smirk.

You began pacing the floor beneath you, as though you were alone, lost in thought. He couldn't help but stalk you with his eyes. 

You were so heavy with his baby but he had seen insects pay their egg sacs more mind than you did your swollen belly. He didn't know if you were too stubborn to cradle and coddle your unborn babe or if you truly didn't give a fuck. But gods was it arousing. Even more so since he had put that baby in you.

“Do you know what my greatest shock was, coming to the heart of Rome from my primitive kingdom?” you spat.

Acacius watched you with the stoic but appraising gaze required of his battle-tested position, though no less intrigued than Geta.

The Senators and merchants kept quiet, trying to resist the urge to shuffle awkwardly.

“It wasn't the heat or the customs. It wasn't the intemperance. Nor was it the untold lost human potential seeping from the servants that are meant to service what I can only imagine are your incredibly disappointing cocks.”

Geta but his lip as he shot Acacius a twin sidelong glance of amusement tempered by nerves.

You were half naked. You were angry. You were pregnant. You had a sword. 

You untucked said sword and began thumbing the blade's edge as you pierced the assembly with your gaze. 

“It was the gnarled, emaciated limbs of children, babies inside these very city walls.” You pointed the sword at them, watching the faint light of the room dance along its polished blade. “The dispassion with which you all ignore the cries of their mothers begging on the street for their salvation.”

You looked at the loudmouth Senator then and beckoned him forth. There was sweat collecting on his brow. In fact, the air was somehow becoming ripe with the smell of collective fear.

The other Senators and merchants kept their breath stuffed in their lungs, the atmosphere around them pregnant with tension.

You flicked the blade down indicating that the Senator should bow before you. He obliged with no argument, just frightened, staccato breaths puncturing the air.

Acacius’ hands twitched at his sides. Under different circumstances, he would have drawn his sword to defend the Senator. But you held his allegiance. You had done since he'd helped kidnap you. He curled his fist at his side, trying to assuage the soldier's instincts etched on his psyche.

Geta was drunk. He'd never seen you quite like this in the flesh. Only in his mind's eye. And perhaps when you'd tried to shove your entire hand in his mouth while you rode his cock.

You stationed the point of the sword at the Senator’s groin. “My people knew what enough was. And I will spend my natural life imparting that knowledge to Rome.” 

Your words were akin to sedition, Geta knew. But if this was how you doled out justice, his heart's one wicked ventricle that carried the poison you hadn't managed to suck out would relish being the instrument of your reign. 

The Senator grunted as you slid the blade to his lower belly and pressed it in, just enough to nick him. A wretched sound echoed off the walls, making all the men cower. It was like the cacophony of a thousand locusts beating their wings on the winds of atrocity. The shadow of the underworld entity crawled up the wall, framing your diminutive form with perfect symmetry.

The horrible sound ceased suddenly, ushering in a silence accented by the shuddering breaths of all the men. Geta and Acacius were silent.

You withdrew the sword and cast your solemn eyes to the floor. “Leave your emperor and I in peace.” 

Your admonition was duly understood. The assembly skittered off, your Senator victim tripping over his toga in his haste to retreat.

You met Acacius' eyes then, giving him a tired smile. He returned it with a bow before striding calmly in the opposite direction.

You watched them all go, digging the sword into the marble for a moment before meeting Geta's gaze.

“Husband,” you said quietly. “Why didn't you wake me?” There was no anger in your voice. Just a soft note of melancholy.

Geta rose from his seat and approached you, taking you in once again. He could have choked on the whiplash. You had just terrified some of the highest ranked officials in Rome into submission. 

And yet you stood before him now, your eyes wide and shiny in all your bizarre glory. You were precious, adorable. He'd always thought so, even when you'd first arrived, a thorn in his side - a simple diplomatic maneuver gone horribly sideways.

He kissed your shoulder where his orgy robe had slipped off. He gently took the Centurion’s blade from your grasp, examining it with detached interest.

“You haven't completed a night of sleep in a fortnight,” he replied simply. “If I'd slit Ancharius up the middle by the end of tonight, I'd have told you over breakfast.”

“What a thing to say!” you chastised as he looped his arm around your waist, leading you back toward the hall.

Geta snickered and pressed a kiss to your head as you walked on, twiddling the sword in his hand. “Me? After that frightful display you just put on? Don't act like a shrinking violet now.”

You looped your arms around his middle as you made your way into the hallway from whence you came. Geta tossed the sword back to the guard, who caught it, trembling ever so slightly as he stood at attention again. 

“At ease,” you tossed over your shoulder.

You walked in companionable silence for a bit, the whispered acknowledgments of Centurions and crackling of torches in their sconces the only sounds to be heard.

Geta halted his steps then, turning you toward him. He cupped your face in one hand while he grazed your belly lovingly with his thumb.

The evening's events seemed to settle in on you both then as he embraced you, tilting your chin to kiss him softly.

He pulled away and regarded your pretty face for a moment before he spoke. “I can't remember me before you. That used to frighten me.”

Your gaze was soft as you looked up at him.

Once, you had thought that your love for him was manufactured by a need for survival and by your fevered supplications to Venus to force your heart to beat for him.

But every day that passed made you wonder if maybe you were meant to find one another. In this life and in the next.

”And now?” you wondered aloud.

He pressed his forehead to yours and sighed. “And now I could be made a freckle on your nose and be grateful for the proximity to you.” He rubbed his nose into yours to strengthen his point.

Your heart fluttered at the sentiment.

You took his hand and pulled him down the hall, further toward your room. 

“I love you,” you said. You didn't want to further belabour the point of his midnight meeting.

“I love you too, dearest.”

You swung your joined hands between you.

“I'm still keyed up from the attempted sedition. Will you tongue fuck me until I can sleep again?”

Geta tried in vain to suppress his smile. “Darling, I will tongue fuck you until my cock gets jealous and threatens to rebel.”

You shared a giggle over his jest as you made your way back to your empire of two.

[starstruckwinnerpeanutscissors]

𝔓erculiar 𝔏ady

summary: Jacaerys Velaryon is a devoted husband to his wife, no matter how peculiar she can get.

paring: jacaerys velaryon x reader

The late afternoon air held the hint of salt from the sea, mingling with the fragrance of wildflowers that grew stubbornly between the cracks in the ancient stone pathways. You were crouched near the edge of a patch of lilies, your hands delicately prying a small beetle from the wet earth.

Jacaerys stood behind you, watching with a soft smile as you turned the tiny creature over in your hands, your purple eyes reflecting the fading sunlight as you examined the beetle’s wings. The mud clung to the tiny insect's body, but you didn't mind the dirt; your focus was entirely on the small, helpless thing in your palm.

“Look,” you said quietly, turning to Jace with wonder in your voice, “its wings are stuck.”

Jace knelt beside you, resting on the balls of his feet as he extended a hand. You placed the beetle in his palm, trusting that he would be as gentle as you always were with the world’s smallest creatures. He turned the insect carefully, his thumb brushing away the mud that had ensnared it. You watched him with a mixture of fascination and love. Jace was patient, where others would have dismissed your concern as childish or odd. He never once called you mad, not like your mother had whispered behind closed doors when she thought you weren't listening.

“Are we taking it to our room?” Jacaerys asked with a soft smile, his eyes meeting yours. His brown eyes, warm like honey, always made you feel seen, truly seen, in a way that no one else did. Not your mother, not the maesters, not even your father, who tried to love you but could never understand you.

You gave a small laugh, one that sounded more like a breeze whispering through the trees. "I don’t think it would like the room," you replied, brushing a stray silver-gold strand of hair from your face. "It belongs out here, I think."

Jacaerys nodded. He understood. He always understood, even when you struggled to explain yourself. He placed the beetle back on the ground gently, and you watched as it scurried off into the grass. The small moment passed, but it left a warmth in your heart. These moments with Jace were everything to you.

The wind shifted, and you froze. The hairs on the back of your neck stood on end. You could feel them again—the ghosts. The invisible presences that followed you everywhere, the ones no one else could see. Your chest tightened, your breath quickened, and the world around you blurred at the edges.

Jace was by your side in an instant, his arms wrapping around you, pulling you close. He didn’t ask what was wrong; he didn’t need to. He knew. He always knew. The panic that clawed at your insides like a ravenous beast began to subside under the familiar pressure of his embrace. You focused on the steady beat of his heart, grounding yourself in the rhythm of his breathing.

“They’re here again, aren’t they?” Jacaerys whispered into your hair, his voice low and comforting.

You nodded, burying your face in his chest, the rich scent of his skin calming you further. “I can feel them,” you whispered back, your voice trembling. “Watching… waiting…”

Jacaerys held you tighter, his chin resting on the top of your head. “They can’t hurt you. I won’t let them.”

You wanted to believe him, wanted so desperately to believe that the things you saw, the shadows that loomed just beyond the edge of sight, were only in your mind. But how could you, when you could feel them so keenly? When they whispered to you in the dead of night, filling your dreams with images of things long dead and forgotten?

Your mother, Alicent, had always looked at you with a mixture of pity and fear. From the time you were a child, she had treated you as if you were fragile, almost breakable. The day she had agreed to your marriage with Jacaerys had been one of the rare moments when you had seen relief in her eyes—as if you were finally someone else’s responsibility, no longer her burden to bear.

But Jacaerys never made you feel like a burden. He had taken you as his wife not out of duty or convenience, but because he had truly wanted you. He had seen your strangeness, your peculiarities, and had loved you for them. Even now, as you stood in the fading light, haunted by the unseen, he held you as if you were the most precious thing in the world.

“I’ll chase them away if you want,” Jacaerys said, pulling back just enough to look into your eyes. His hand brushed against your cheek, his touch feather-light.

You managed a small, shaky smile. “You’d do that?”

He smiled back, that lopsided grin that made your heart ache with affection. “Of course. I’ll chase them all away, every last one of them.”

You knew he would. You knew he would humour you, would run through the garden or the halls of Dragonstone, waving his arms and calling out to the ghosts to leave his wife in peace. It was absurd, but Jacaerys never cared about appearing foolish, not when it came to you. He had done it before, on more nights than you could count—banishing your invisible tormentors with all the seriousness of a knight battling real foes.

But tonight, you didn’t want him to chase them away. Tonight, you only wanted him to hold you, to remind you that no matter how strange or broken the world seemed, there was still something real and solid in it—his love.

“I just want you to stay with me,” you whispered, resting your forehead against his chest.

Jacaerys nodded, his arms never loosening. “Always.”

The two of you stayed like that for what felt like an eternity, standing in the middle of the garden as the sky darkened, the first stars appearing overhead. The wind whistled through the trees, and somewhere in the distance, the waves crashed against the cliffs, but here, in Jace’s arms, the world was quiet.

The ghosts were still there. They always would be. But with Jace, you could bear them. He was your anchor, the one thing that kept you tethered when everything else seemed to slip away. You knew that the whispers would return, that the panic would strike again, and the shadows would come creeping back into your mind. But as long as Jacaerys was there, with his steady heart and his unwavering love, you could face them.

He was the husband you never thought you would have. The kind of man you had been told you didn’t deserve, that you would never find. But Jace had chosen you, strange as you were. And he had stayed through all the dark nights and haunted days.

You tilted your head up to look at him, your eyes meeting his. “I love you,” you whispered, the words so quiet they were almost lost to the wind.

Jacaerys smiled, his hand cupping your face as he leaned down to kiss your forehead, his lips lingering there for a moment longer than necessary. “I love you too.”

And in that moment, you believed him. You believed that no matter how haunted your mind was, no matter how broken you sometimes felt, there was still something whole and good in the world.

It was him.

It was Jace.

And for now, that was enough.

[starstruckwinnerpeanutscissors]

LITTLE BOX FULL OF SURPRISES

masterlist ✧works in procress ✧ AO3

based on this request⭑.ᐟ

-ˋˏsummary: The maimed one-eyed prince marries the most beautiful woman on earth. She is dutiful, beautiful and perfect, but Aemond can't stand when someone, specially his uncle, look with desire at what it is his. ✧Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Tully!Original Female Character ✧word count: 3.1k ✧Warnings: : MDNI 18+, p in v sex, dom/sub undertones, face slapping, spitting on the mouth, degradation kink, possesive Aemond, Aemond is WHIPPED by his wife.

Every time his grandsire and his mother spoke of a Lady of great beauty coming to King’s landing, he rolled his eye. 

Even when they present a small portrait, small to fit his palm, he does not seem impressed. Perhaps it is too small, perhaps it is too pretentious. Either the painter exaggerated your features or he couldn’t properly paint a small portrait. But he was curious, after all. Named the most beautiful woman on earth, blessed by the Gods. 

He doesn’t doubt that Lady Tully was beautiful. Perhaps she was truly a beautiful woman, with her long red hair, ‘like fire’ said the letter. But being called The Maiden on Earth seems exaggerated to him.

His grandsire had told them about the implications of his betrothal, about how important it was to have secured the Riverlands, since Grover Tully was an old lord, and will not understand reason. To have his most beloved granddaughter as a princess, was the only way to win his approval, and support. 

Aemond finally meets her on the little garden near the Weirwood tree. They had been serving little cakes, as some lords and ladies talked nearby, not even half of court was here, and he liked the quietness. That made him less self-conscious.

She was near the table, her hand hovering above all the treats she could get, smiling as she watches them with interest. She is expressive, he realises. He hasn’t seen her face, only her back and the day her hand moves and her head is tilted, curious about the southern gastronomy.

 “My lady” Aemond says softly. 

She turns so gracefully, and she is surprised to see him. Her hand still extended, and she quickly moves it to grab her skirts, and do a courtesy to him. She has a sweet smile, and she speaks. 

 “My prince” she says, a bit surprised. “I… I didn’t expect you.”

“I must admit I came a bit earlier than agreed…” he murmurs, looking behind him and then back to her.

The most beautiful maiden on earth fell short to her. She was… something else, in the best way possible. She had that curiosity, that life in her eyes, as she smiles at him, her lips are perfect, and he could see that her maids probably used those Myrish lip taints, for they were a very natural red colour, almost matching with her hair. Her dress was magnificent, wearing the colour of her house, red and blue decorating everything. Even her eyes, blue like the opaque blue rivers in the Riverlands, and her hair, red like flames, matched with her house colours. She wore fish details, her earrings and in her dress pattern. But she was wearing a collar with a seven pointed star in it, and he sighed at her beauty. She was breathtaking.

“Oh, well, so it seems…” she says as she smiles a bit sheepishly, looking at him. “It’s a fine castle, my prince. It does have its own beauty.” 

Aemond has never thought of the red Keep as something beautiful, at all. He always wanted to live in Dragonstone, but his wish was not granted.  But, if she says so, it must be true, and with good reason.

“You think so?” 

She grabs a lemon cake, and eats it carefully as she nods. “Yes! And you also have a Weirwood tree here. When we made our trip here, we passed through Raventree, and their Weirwood was a bit… depressing…” she says, smiling sweetly. “But here it’s very beautiful. More… alive”

As she talks, he watches her closely. Even when his mother, his sickly father and his siblings arrive, when his mother gives him a scolding look for arriving earlier, he sort of watches you in silence, his chest swelling with an air of mystery. 

“You are not what I expected” he admits, quietly between the two of them as their parents talked about the betrothal.

“No?” She asks smiling, licking her finger from the cream of the lemon cakes. “You’ll see I’m a little box full of surprises” 

That’s the beginning.

A ceremony on the Sept, as she stood next to him, reciting vows and the cloak with dragon sigils is on her shoulders, left behind the fish one. Aemond has never looked so smug and proud. The bedding ceremony was… traditional. Having a crowd was awkward for both, surely, but Aemond made it all more comfortable for her, covering her body with his, and not exposing her, at his own expense.

“Just focus on me” He murmurs closely to her face, as she looks at him with wide eyes. He was between her open legs, and he insisted for her to keep her chemise on, while he had no problem in nudity “Your septa and mother could have told you…”

“Not much” She whispers back.

“Not much” he repeats, moving a strand of hair out other face, tenderly watching her face for discomfort. “But I will be gentle, and… we’ll learn together. Yes?”

“Yes. Thank you…, husband” she says, and he feels a prideful pressure on his chest. He was her husband. The most beautiful woman’s husband. 

And she was always thankful for his patience and gentleness towards her, and she stuck to him to all times, even when she was in court, charming everyone around. Her arm was always interlocked with his, and referred to him as ‘her sweet husband’. 

Love came quieter than expected, as they laughed on their bed at nights, having picnics in the gardens or going to the Riverlands in Vhagar together, swimming on Riverrun’s rivers, and just… enjoying each other. It was more than love when they had their first son, a lovely and happy baby, mismatched eyes, with both purple and a deep blue. Aemond adored his son, his little Daerion, and he adored you more.

“Black looks well on you” Aemond comments. 

Daerion’s blabbing was a way to agree with Aemond’s statement as the maid finished putting on her headband, the same tone of her dress. Her orange hair is in braids, two simple ones with some gold details on them, and some dragon earrings that he gifted her. She was gorgeous, and all his. 

“Your wardrobe hasn’t changed” she states looking at him. “Went from velvet black to dark black” 

Aemond walks over to his wife, watching her being just so beautiful like that, sitting, waiting peacefully like a porcelain doll.

“Mhm... As if changing colours would make everything amicable…” Aemond murmurs, taking Daerion in his arms, and he allows him to play with his hair. “Does father know it’s useless? Rhaenyra wearing green won’t change anything, nor will my mother wearing black. HIs voice comes as a grunt as he bounces their baby. 

“It’s foolish when you put it that way” her voice is tender, sweet, and somewhat like velvet. He is still besotted by her, as maidens do with knights. He watches the shape of her breasts on that dress, how the cleavage is so delightful for his eyes and the roundness of her tits that make the fabric around stretch a bit. As if the tailor always got the measurement of her chest wrong on purpose, which he won’t complain about. 

Her bright red hair contrasts with how the black makes her skin look paler, and her eye colour deeper.

“They shouldn���t call you the Maiden herself anymore” Aemond murmurs softly, walking closer to her, still holding Daerion in his arms. “You are like the mother herself. Like the Goddess Syrax of Old Valyria. Beautiful, strong… so alluring…”

“You never seem to run out of compliments” her hands move to grab her rings, and the one he likes the most is the sapphire one, just to symbolise her marriage to him. 

“Never, more so if a goddess like you is my wife. All mine…”

“My prince, my lady.” It’s a Kings guard who interrupts. “Supper is ready, and Queen Alicent asks for you both to arrive earlier…”

“Hm” Aemond says, leaving Daerion in the wet nurse’s arms.

“Thank you, ser Willis” the knight smiles at his wife before walking to wait outside the door.

He rolls his eye as he leans to kiss his son’s forehead, caressing his chubby cheek and he smiles fondly at his sight. The little freckles he has that he inherited from his mother, something that Aemond loved. Yet remembering how unnecessary kind his wife is… annoys him.

Kindness and sweetness only helped to enhance her beauty and popularity, and he also loved that. She was beautiful, perfect in any way, tied to a One-Eyed maimed monster, like him. All he could offer to you, that it was worthy, was the luxuries of the royalty, all the kids you want and his unconditional love. He was at your mercy.

He has one eye, but he is not blind. Any man here on the keep, would pull their breeches down if his wife asked so. They would even cut their own throats for her mere delight, and Aemond would be one of them. 

“Goodbye, my sweet love” the sweet motherly tone makes little Daerion squeal happily, extending his little arms for his mother. She kisses both his hands, later to wave to him as they leave the room, arms interlocked.

Aemond always bites his tongue when his lady wife is kind to men. He hates it, yet he knows she does it for the kindness of her heart, and not any ulterior motives.

He was smitten for her, moving the chair for her to sit, and helping her, her dress not getting stuck anywhere or her headpiece, and only then, he sat on his own seat at peace.

“I heard they might have some goose” she murmurs to him, as the room fills. Her fingers caress his arm, and he hears her every word. “I’d eat it all if I could, you know” she teases.

“Mhm.” Aemond murmurs. Even if he is besotted, his facade is still the same; stoic, cold, distant. Yet to her, his gaze was always loving.

“I would only share it with you” she states proudly, leaning to give him a peck on the lips, before standing up once the King is brought to the room.

As he stands, he doesn’t miss how his uncle watches her. Aemond might not know the man personally, but he knew the look of desire in a man’s face. Much more when they looked at her 

The supper is mostly… tense, and awkward. But Lady Tully is charming to everyone and even toasts as well for Baela and Rhaena in their betrothal, congratulating them and speaking nothing but wonders about her own married life, making Aemond wear the slightest, yet most smug smirk on his face.

“Amazing” she says, with her mouth full as she eats the goose, and Aemond nods, a hand rubbing her back so she doesn’t choke for eating so quickly. “Here, my love” she says, extending the fork with a bit of the goose that she adores so much. 

Aemond eats shamelessly, enjoying the taste as he nods softly, approving, which makes her smile. His hand resting on the back of her chair, as he drank his wine quietly, watching his sister and nephew go to dance together. He is highly unaware of the prying eyes that watch them both.

Helaena and Jacaerys’ giggles and the movement of her dress is enough for lady Tully to watch curiously. Her husband was not one for dances, as he had not a good perception of objects with one eye. She never pressured him, and accepted the fact. 

She always would say how Daerion once he would be tall enough to walk, she’d dance with her son all the songs and dances, and Aemond approved that idea. 

“Lady Tully” It was Daemon Targaryen’s deep voice, and she looks at him a bit surprised, leaving her fork on the table as she covers her mouth, her hand unconsciously fetching wine, which Aemond hands her his. 

“Prince Daemon” her melodic voice is a bit confused, and more so when the uncle of her husband extends his hand. The green fabrics from his suit are deep, yet he still wore dragon details on it, and he looked smug about it.

She turns to watch Aemond, his jaw tensing as he looks at Daemon. And he has to physically stop himself from cutting his uncle’s throat when his wife walks with him to join Helaena and the bastard. Aegon and he share a look, both upset and annoyed, as their wives are so freely dancing with other men. 

Aemond watches her beautiful face, frowning as Daemon talks about something, whispering it closely so no one else hears it. His grip on the edge of his seat is strong; knuckles’ turning white as his jaw is tense, not looking pleased at all. And then, he hears her warm laugh, giggling at what he said, as her whole face brightened up.

Once they serve the pig in front of him and hear the little bastard giggles, it is enough to send him through a fit of rage. 

He literally drags his wife by the arm after everything went downhill, after saying that stupid toast, after the Velaryon’s boys attempt to defend themselves (very badly) and both her husband and her good brother humiliate them.

“Dancing with him” Aemond murmurs, walking to their shared chambers, not minding seeing the servants stop and look at them both. “Accepting it, and giggling to his jokes as he shamelessly flirts with you” 

“It was politeness...” her voice is weak when protesting.

“Did he mocked me for having only one eye?” He asks roughly. “Did he told you how beautiful your are and how full your breasts are?”

She opens her mouth a bit taken aback by his lewds remarks. “I am dutiful to what it’s expected of me. I wouldn't have allowed him to mock you”

“You should…”

“My family’s words are Family. Duty. Honour. And you know I care for that very deeply.” she says as she tries to keep up with his long steps “And I did just what was asked…”

“You are mine” he states, walking inside his chambers as his grip does nothing but become stronger. “My wife and you are… putting yourself in display for my uncle, laughing at his flirting. I know your family words are important for you, but this is… beyond that”

Perhaps it was her confused eyes or her angelic face, but he loosened up his grip yet he kept talking. 

“He wanted you! To have you below him and fuck you like a… wench or… or some kind of…”

“I know” 

Aemond turns drastically, eye twitching at his wife's words.

“You knew?”

“It was being cordial. It was duty. To amend broken ties…”

“I will break and burn and turn into ashes any ties from you to him” he says exasperated, insane with jealousy. His eye is wide, twitching in rage as he cannot believe this. She was his wife. 

Seeing Daemon’s hand grip on her hip, almost groping her, made him insane. Because he knew that Lady Tully, beautiful as the Maiden, a beloved goddess amongst the poor and rich, could do so much better than him. Yet, she still chooses him.

“Get naked” he says simply.

“What?”

“You heard me just right. Get. Naked.” He says again, not wanting a negative. 

Her whine is endearing, as she starts taking off little by little. Her gown, the diminutive buttons at the back, her collar, and her hellish headpiece.

“Let me” he grumbles as he helps her take off the headpiece, tossing it aside more carefully.

She is possibly the most beautiful when she is naked. Round breasts, even fuller thanks to lactating, and her body was tempting enough to anyone. 

“Undress me” he says instead. He took delight when she was the one serving him, in this way. He loved to see her desperation, her eagerness for him. His jerkin is out in no time, and she kneels to undo his breeches.

Because she had an angelic face, but it was only he who knew how obsessed she was with his cock. She could spend hours lying on the bed, sucking his cock as she rested her head on his abdomen as Aemond read. She wouldn’t even suck him off properly, his wife would only suck the tip, give kitten licks, and lazily press some kisses. During hours and hours. 

“I forbid you to speak to any one of them. Ever again” 

Confused eyes turned up to look at him, as the careful hands undid his breeches, almost a bit eagerly. “Forbid?”

“Hm. It’s what I said, is it not?” He says, narrowing his eye as if asking to be defied. 

“But it’s mad” she protests, frowning. “I promised Jace and Baela a tour in the gardens, and it would be impolite if I didn’t spoke-”

“Too bad” his voice cuts the conversation, and he is not leaving it up for conversation. 

“You are being irrational...”

“And you are being a fucking brat” he spats, grabbing her chin as he bites his lower lip. “I’ll show you how irrational I can get”

Her eyes watched him, almost too innocent for her own good. It made him hard; he could feel his cock stirring on his untied breeches. 

“Fucking slut, giving yourself to other men” his tone is harsh, but by the way her knees move, to accommodate the weight as he grips her chin, he knows that she is aroused. So is he.

Lady Tully was beautiful, and a box of surprises with everything, he realised with time. He had everyone trapped under her charms, and kept her secrets very private. And he loved it.

“Whore.”  His hand leaves her chin, only to move it to slap her across the face. 

She gasps, her face turned. It wasn’t harsh, yet the sting was burning on her skin, as she placed a hand on her cheek. To foreign eyes, he just slapped his wife. But he has done it before, to her request. Aemond knew that if his wife was enraged by that, he would have been beaten over and over, because she was kind, but didn’t stand for people dishonouring her. 

Aemond, more gently places his hand back on her chin, pulling it so she can look at him. “You will learn your place” Aemond says, as she looks up at him, with those meek eyes of hers. He loved her eyes. “Open your mouth”

 He leaned down, his mouth opening over hers, so near that she could feel his hot breath. His hand goes to wrap the bright red hair of hers, and his firm grip got her head secured. 

Perhaps Aemond would kiss those perfect lips, yet he pulled back and released a strand of saliva directly into her waiting mouth. Aemond’s fingers tightened the grip in her hair, as his other hand came up to wipe away the excess of spit. 

“There is my good girl” he murmurs, looking at her. “Mhm. I’m going to teach you a lesson” 

Aemond lifts his wife to her feet as if she weighs nothing, his grip on her hair almost dragging her to the bed, forcefully as he heard her little whines. He had a moment or two to decide which position suited best, for then to grab her hips and guide her to be on her hands and knees. He grabs the long red hair once again, angling her head to the side, because Aemond needed to see her face the same way he needed air.

She was soaking wet, and that is a satisfaction for her husband. Aemond accommodated behind her, watching her body as he positioned his cock at her entrance.

 “Such a sweet little cunt” he growls, his eye flashing with lust and desire as he thrusts into her from behind, in one swift motion. 

Her whimpers and pants are loud, as she grips on the sheets as her back is arched. She was desperate to be filled and fucked, not something unusual. The unusual thing was that… nothing happened.

“Aemond” She whines, moving her head to watch him from above her shoulder. She had that desperate, pitiful appearance that he loved.

“Yes, my love?” He asks almost nonchalantly, watching her ass, and how his cock is fully sank inside her 

She can barely think straight as his dick is deep inside her, throbbing in her walls as she just needs him to start fucking her. “Eh… move?”

“I don’t think so” he murmurs, his hand moving to caress her ass to his liking. “You’ll have to fuck yourself on my cock” His wife opens her mouth, confused as her eyebrows frown in hesitation. “Show me how much you need me” he says simply, he was fucking teasing her. “How much you need my cock”

Feeling the thick length of Aemond’s cock inside her, she accommodates on her hands, slowly moving away just to sink down onto his cock again. Her slick walls gripping him tightly as she impales herself on his thick cock. 

“Aemond… Fu-uck, you feel… oh, yes…” She whimpers, and her voice is filled with pleasure as her pussy starts getting pounded as she liked so much. If Lady Tully liked something in life, was probably getting fucked until her mind is mush.  

Her hips start moving on their own accord, as she grips on the sheets, trying to keep a stable posture to move her hips better, as her moans are obscenely loud, trying to get his cock deeper and deeper. Aemond leaves a groan, watching how she sinks down on his cock, and it is an image that would make any man cum in seconds. He truly was the luckiest man ever. 

He feels the fire in his stomach tighten, as her moans grew more and more delighted to the feeling of his cock pounding into her. At first, she had thought of it as promiscuous, and asked the maiden for forgiveness, but gods damn her if it wasn’t the best thing in life to get a good fuck from the love of her life.

“So responsive when getting a cock in your needy pussy” Aemond mutters, as one of his hands raises to spank her ass, the sharp slap only serves for the sounds coming out of her mouth to increase, and he spanks her again, and again, and again, to his own amusement and delight. 

“Please, Aemond…” 

“You just love misbehaving with me, because you know I will put you in your place” he says, moving forward to her body to grip his hair with his right hand, his left goes right next to her hand gripping the sheets to hold his weight. “Because you are a needy whore” he states, gripping her hair as she nods forcefully. 

“Yes” she says, in that whiny tone of hers. He knows her reactions yet every time they aroused him even more. “Yes, please”

The grip on her hair only serves to help him push her back against his cock, his hips now making the effort to start properly pounding into her cunt as she loved; hard, rough and at a deliciously good pace. Her body is practically numb as he starts to use her body for his own pleasure, just as she loved.

Who would have said that the most beautiful woman on earth loved being used by her husband? Definitely not him. She was the most perfect creature, in any way. Smart, funny, pretty, a good wife and mother. And yet she always craved his cock, like the filthiest whores of Flea Bottom. 

“Let those bastards hear you, hm?” He asks, as he leans to speak lowly near her ear. “How it’s your husband who pleases you. Perhaps my uncle will get the notion that you are mine. Only mine. Fucking mine. That fucking dodderer will die by my hand if he ever dares to lay his eyes on you” 

The mere thought infuriates him, making his hips slam into her harder and more feral. Rutting into her cunt in an animalistic pace as he has to clench his jaw in rage. His hand on her hair and the other on her waist, he groans at the feeling of her soaking cunt. 

The sobs he hears as his cock keeps on pounding into her sweet spot, makes him smug enough, and even more aroused. His sweet lady wife, so prone to cry when she had too much pleasure when she got overwhelmed with lust. 

“Please, please…” the round of pleas comes up with her tears, and Aemond moans, shamelessly, as he was so close. “I can’t t-take i-it… anymo-ore” 

“Oh, you will” he says through gritted teeth as he lets go of her hair, only for his other hand to go to her shoulder to help her get his dick deeper. “I will breed you. Cum so deep that my seed takes root, and everyone will know who you belong to.” 

Her nods between sobs, pleas and trembling legs help him pound in feral thrusts into her, feeling her cunt already milking him, inner walls attempting to squeeze his dick inside and never let it go.

“Cum for me, my love” he murmurs, still fucking her deep and nice how she likes it. “My beautiful wife” he murmurs, besotted by her as she cries, her tears rolling down her rosy cheeks with little freckles that he adored. 

The little spasms of her body, her wails and the way her cunt squeezes him, it’s enough to drive him to the edge, holding her body down into his cock as he moans loudly, rolling his eye back in pleasure as he cums hard. She whimpers, whining a bit as his seed just keeps on filling her, his balls tensing up as his grip will probably leave her delicate skin with red marks.

He is caring afterwards, as he cleans her with a towel, or when he places her in bed and covers her, lying by her side each time as she snuggles to him.

“You have to know–” she says softly, her fingers tracing circles on his chest. “You are hot when jealous”

Aemond huffs, grumbling about it a bit as he seems reluctant. It amuses her.

“You always find me hot, I could be… Killing a chicken and you would be leaking”

“Get on my place for a moment, please, just imagine how your muscles would flex” she says dead serious and he rolls his eye amused, as the corners of his lips gives him away.

The fixation on his hair would be a problem if he didn’t love her so much. Aemond allows his lady Tully to braid it as they talk in bed. 

“I didn’t really mean it” he says softly. 

“Hm?” She asks curious, her fingers working on a single small braid on his hair.

“You can talk to them” he says through gritted teeth. “Just-... not too much”

Her little laugh warms his heart. “Very well” she says amused. “For each sentence I say to them, I will suck you”

“I retract myself, talk to them very much, all you like” he says, and it has her giggling. “You know I love you…” he says; as it comes into his view her concentrated face, her tongue coming out of her pink lips as she was focused. He could see the freckles that he so adored, and her pretty eyes. How he loved her.

“You know I love you more…” she says fixing his braid to stick to his hair. Her mouth forms a pleased smile as she sits, as she inspects her work. “Yes. Seems pretty nice”

He could feel the hair strand tight, and he moved his hand to touch his head. “What in the Seven Hells you did to my hair, woman?” 

She looks very pleased as she giggles, her body accommodating against his chest as she shrugs innocently, as he keeps on playfully trying to decipher what his wife did to his hair. 

[starstruckwinnerpeanutscissors]

Do you Love Me? 

Note- Once again, it’s 3Am as I finish this. So I apologize for the many grammar mistakes. Also, this was greatly inspired by The great (hulu), come on Aegon gives off Peter vibes 

Pairing: Soft dark!Aegon II Targaryen x reader x fem!reader

Tags: EXPLICIT/SMUT, Arranged marriage, character deaths, strangely some fluff, lots of angst, pregnant!reader, Aegon is a terrible husband at first, squint of Jace/reader, love confessions, manipulation, jealousy, implied painful first time

You worshiped the prince. And how could you not? He was young, handsome, and, as mentioned, a prince. Every girl in the seven kingdoms dreamed of him. But he was yours by oath. And when you finally saw him on your wedding day, it was the happiest moment of your life. 

Your arms were linked with your father’s. Feeling your heart pound in your chest. Stomach churned with excitement. When you finally reached the altar, your father handed you to the Prince. And the second his hand touched yours, the butterflies in your stomach violently clashed with one another. 

In the sight of gods and men. The prince will become yours. And you will be his. Your eyes didn’t look away from his violet ones, wanting to drown yourself in them. They are so alluring that the Septon’s words are muddled in your ears. But you didn’t need to hear them. Memorizing the vows by heart. As you recited them to the mirror every other day. One heart, one flesh, one soul. 

After the vows were said, you and the prince sat side by side. The servant on his side poured wine into his cup throughout the entire night. He didn’t speak to you. He didn’t even ask you to dance. Watching all the other lords and ladies surrounding you laugh and dance with one another. 

His face turns to you on occasion and you smile at him every time. He didn’t return them. Maybe he was nervous. You hoped he was so you wouldn’t feel that slight pang. To distract yourself, your eyes roamed the remaining table, seeing his family. His grandfather, his mother, his sister, his brothers were all there. You couldn’t help but notice the shared look they gave you. In return, you continued smiling, even when you sensed it slowly faltering. 

Soon it was the wedding night. And the excitement bubbled once more. You remembered your times at the library back home. You were a lady, and it was a scandalous thing to do, but you indulged your curiosities. Reading such shameful books that your Septa would’ve certainly had you flocked if she ever heard of it. 

The pleasure, the desire, the yearning, the burning, the ecstasy all written in such detail. And the men in the stories. They were so selfless and giving. Meeting her every need, making her see the stars and the moon. The thought of doing all of those things with the prince crossed your mind more times than you can count. It made you ashamed, but should you be, knowing he’ll be yours someday. 

But on that night, he tarnished your dreams. 

Keep reading

[starstruckwinnerpeanutscissors]

MDNI! Word count: 921

The second Prince Regent!Aemond walks into the room you can feel the tension in his body, frustrated and angry at the council and handling the siege Rhaenyra has put the King’s Landing in.

He is a mess; his hair unruly and his head being crushed under the weight of the Conqueror's crown, and yet, all he could think about throughout the day was how his heavily pregnant wife was walking in their shared chambers with nothing on but her see-through shift that left little to the imagination.

He couldn’t give a single fuck about how Cole was trying to convince the council for another attack, or how his mother tried to get him to talk — not when he had gotten a peek of your sweet pussy at dawn when he woke up and found you writhing in your sleep, the thin fabric overridden up to your hips.

He has become pathetically insatiable for you ever since your body has started adapting to the changes of growing a human within you, and he has been nothing but an absolute beast to have you on his bed throughout the day so he can grab on your hips and drink up the sweet nectar between your thighs.

“Husband,” you say, hands clutching under your large belly as you stand up on shaky legs, giving your prince regent the courtesy he deserves.

He doesn’t say anything, not a single word is uttered as he takes slow steps toward you, his hands behind his back while he lets his good eye wander all over your body; soft, ripe, round edges and so beautiful.

“What ails you, my prince?” You ask, unsure of what is truly troubling your husband.

“Nothing you should concern your pretty head with, Ābrazȳrys -wife-.” He stands before you, inhaling the sweet scent of the vanilla oil your handmaiden applied to your skin.

He can’t focus, the smell of your fragment and your god-like beauty is enough to send his head into a foggy state. He reaches out, exhaling sharply as his long fingers caress your chin, already shaking with the need for his wife.

“Have you eaten today, husband?” Your voice is dripping with honey as you nuzzle your head into his palm, and he bends down to press a kiss to your exposed shoulder, nearly groaning at the feeling of the soft flesh under his lips.

“I am about to,” he says, keeping his face hidden in the crook of your neck, “would you let me have a delicious meal, wife?”

“Of course, my prince, let me tell the maids—“

“No, no…” he growls into your ear, his other hand coming to rest on the fat of your hips, squeezing it with delight, “I don’t want any food, I want the sweet dessert that is hidden between your thighs.”

“Oh…” you sigh in pleasure as he keeps kissing and nibbling on your skin, “then allow me to lay on the bed—“

“No,” his voice is sharp and curt, sending a shiver down your spine as you feel your arousal coat your inner thighs, “I will be the one lying down.”

He doesn’t let you ponder over what he said, instead, he shrugs his coat and doubles off, kicking his boots away before he crawls on the bed, his long limbs covering the length of the mattress as he reaches to pull you on it as well.

You sit hesitantly beside him on the bed, waiting for him to tell you how he wants you.

He sits up a little, taking the crown in his hands before he puts it on top of your head, smirking at your flustered face as you try to find a reason as to what the fuck he actually is doing.

“Conquer your realm, my queen. Come, your throne awaits you,” he says, his pupil blown with lust and desire as he helps you to your knees, laughing breathlessly at how gorgeous you look with his child heavy in your belly and his crown atop your head — truly a sight for sore eyes.

“Aemond I might suffocate you!” You gasp as he positions himself right beneath your glistening cunt, his fingers digging into your ample body as he licks his lips, his carnal desires for you only growing more by every second you deny him your pleasure.

“Then I would die a happy man,”

You gasp loudly, hands reaching to support your weight on the headboard as he pulls you flush on his face, forcing you to sit on his carved nose. 

The moan he lets out as he finally flattens his tongue over your sweet pussy is primal. He licks you clean off your wetness, parting your folds with the tip of his tongue as he plays with your throbbing clit.

Something in Aemond switches on, because in a second he starts rocking your hips on his face, the dip of his nose catching your nub with every roll and his tongue pushes past the first swollen ring of muscles of your cunt, moving it in a rhythmic direction.

He hears you moan and whine in pleasure, which only spurs him on to go faster, while he can feel the tent in his leather pants growing tighter and tighter. He feasts on you like a starved man, groaning and moaning with every lick of his skillful tongue.

He can only imagine how you look, eyes closed, chest heaving with ragged breaths, and head thrown back while you wear the Conqueror's crown, like a true queen.

[starstruckwinnerpeanutscissors]

Clan head!Gojo

[starstruckwinnerpeanutscissors]

A Moment's Reprieve

summary | Aemond just can't seem to get a moment alone with you, driving him to the point of madness.

pairing | aemond targaryen x wife!reader

tags | 18+, MINORS DNI!, lil quickie, kinda rough sex, aeggy cameo <3, slight exhibitionism, semi-public sex, not proofread :P

wordcount | 3.3k

note | hi, it's been a minute <3 feeling kinda meh about this but i hope u guys like it!

likes, comments, reblogs are much appreciated!

It was hard to fuck while wearing leather. The heat from Aemond’s body was so easily trapped in its wall, dissipating into fat droplets of sweat cascading down his back. Moving around was no easy feat either, but the momentary suffering would have to suffice. He was easily lost enough in the fire in his loins that burned hotter than the damp flush creeping up his chest. His thrusts were hasty, his grip on your exposed breasts tight as he slammed himself in and out of your core.

On better days, he would have taken the time to take you apart piece by piece, perhaps starting with his mouth on your sweet cunny, but you both hardly had time to even undress. Your skirts were carelessly rucked up to your hips, neckline haphazardly unbound just enough to free your teats, while your husband had lowered his breeches just enough to expose his hard, swollen cock before he drove into you. Your grip on his bicep was tight, while your nails dug into the bedpost with the other for support as you stood by the bed’s edge. The pulsating of your core was enough to drive him mad, the dizzying haze of desire overwhelming his wife just as it did with him. 

“H-husband, I’m so close,” you moaned in his ear, head leaned back into his chest. He must have grunted something in response, though he wasn’t sure he even heard himself, voice lost in the din of loud smacking of his trim hips against your plump arse, and your sweet melodic mewls. The rising heat in his belly let him know he was right with you, only a few thrusts behind the release that threatened to overtake him. It was easy to get lost in it all— in you, in your warm, perfect walls. So much so his thrusts turned even more desperately erratic as his body moved in its own accord, his usually alert mind hardly registering the creaking of wood and the sudden breeze into his marital chambers.

Then he heard cackling.

“Seven fucking Hells, brother!” 

Aegon stood at the threshold, one hand still on the doorknob and the other clutching his stomach as he doubled over in laughter. The younger whipped his head at the intrusion, eyes widening before shifting to cover you with his body. He heard you gasp, before scrambling to cover your exposed chest away from Aegon’s curious eyes. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Aemond barked, turning to move to storm over where the idiot stood when he caught his brother eyeing the exposed flesh of your upper thigh, but your firm hand on his wrist kept him where he was to save yourself the last bits of dignity. 

“I… ha!” the elder snorted, laughter finally dying down into low chuckles that rumbled from his chest. He exhaled a deep sigh, dramatically wiping a tear from the corner of his eye. “Mother sent me to call on you because court starts in five minutes and she believes the Seven Hells have cooled over when she found me ready before you, but I guess you were preoccupied, eh?” he shrugged, amethyst eyes twinkling with a mischievous glint that irked Aemond to no end. “Dear me, fucking before noon? And I thought I was oversexed.”

“Shut up before I make you,” Aemond seethed. His wife sighed, peeking over his shoulder to speak to Aegon.

“Would you give us a few moments, brother? Let Her Grace know we will be right out,” you asked softly, smiling sweetly enough to earn a tight squeeze on the hips from your dragon in warning. 

“Of course, best to, uh, finish up then,” he responded, wagging his finger mockingly before turning to leave, snickering. “Good to know I had you taught well, Aemond!”

“You fucke–”

The door slammed shut before Aemond could finish, sighing against your temple in exasperation from the ruined moment. The soft kiss on his cheek was hardly enough to make up for it, the humiliation in his chest killing whatever drive in his gut. He begrudgingly tucked his softened length back into his breeches before helping you with your laces. You turned to face him once your dress had been rightened, hugging his waist and leaning your chin against his chest. 

“Such a shame, everything was feeling so good,” you pouted up at him. Aemond grunted in agreement, head still running hot in annoyance.

Surely, the court wouldn’t be too curious if his brother strolled in with a bruise on his face. He’d been in worse shape before, what was a little marked-up cheek?

There must be some sick game the gods were playing on Aemond. They were teasing him, testing to see how long he could withhold being unable to have a moment alone with his wife before going completely mad. Court took up a better part of his afternoon, long hours of appeals and hearing whatever problems their people wished to voice. It took much of him to keep his eye forward, ignoring the heat radiating off the flesh of your arm that was warmed by the sticky air of the mid-summer sun filtering into the throne room, while you stood by your husband’s side, his nose engulfed by the flowery sweetness wafting from your hair.

Supper was just as torturous, though having you sat by his side slightly made up for it, and teasing you under the table was a good way to pass the time. Aemond’s rough fingertips crept up your skirts and took hold of your thigh, and he would be lying if he said he didn’t relish in the way you swatted his hand away in panic, cheeks growing adorably flushed. With dessert promptly served and devoured, the one-eyed prince all but jumped from his seat, your hand in tow to lead you back to the privacy of your chambers, but the deep drawl of his grandsire’s voice halted him before anything else, inviting him to the Tower to speak on a matter of the utmost discretion. He let your hand go with a scowl, helplessly watching you walk off into the direction of your apartments.

His grandsire sat him down to talk until well into the night, speaking in hushed tones of a matter of concern in the Reach. He was to fly to Oldtown to settle brewing disputes in the Hightower seat in his grandsire's stead, a task entrusted to him that required his sharp eye and his partiality to matters of politics. 

His steps were heavy on his return, his chest even heavier, and when he finally crossed the threshold of your spacious apartments, you were deep into your slumber. You snuggled up into his side of the bed, arm extending to where he should have been. When a responsibility like this would’ve once had Aemond eager to fly out at first light, he found himself unable to tear himself away from you when duty called, having found a home in your arms that sheltered him with warmth and lightness his reality was so deeply void of. 

He was gone for a sennight—a slow-passing, cruel week.  

The separation was torturous, and not a moment passed where your husband’s mind didn’t wander to his sweet wife. He’d tucked one of your handkerchiefs into his pocket before his departure, tracing the embroidered curves of your initials with his thumb when he grew agitated within Oldtown’s walls. They had given him a comfortable accommodation, a bed much too large to sleep in alone. Aemond had grown spoiled with your warmth, and with this temporary withdrawal, sleep came miserably.

At the week's end, disagreements were smoothed and hands were shaken. Aemond took to the skies, not a second too soon after the Lord Hobart thanked him for the crown’s aid, his longing for home shamelessly showing itself in the tension in his shoulders every minute he was there. Daeron would have to forgive him for not flying together as much as the younger wished, but his brother, ever the kindest out of all the dragon princes, saw him off with a nod of understanding and a firm pat on the back, whispering the promise of his own return to their family. 

Vhagar traversed the horizon at a speed unexpected for her size and age, but his old girl shared her rider’s wish for home. They cleared the distance in a day, and the returning prince was greeted by Ser Criston and a wheelhouse that would take him back to his home, to you.

But the gods wouldn’t grant Aemond reprieve that easily. 

The streets bustled with life as the carriage rolled through the cobbled streets. He had returned just in time for his father’s nameday, a week-long celebration for the ailing king that called for the grandest celebration, with music, wine, and dancing for guests hailing from all over the realm. Aemond watched through the thin slits of the carriage— faces passing in a blur, voices of every pitch overlapping the other. His brow furrowed in perplexion when they took a sudden turn, an unexpected route that led him away from the hill leading to the Keep, but right to the middle of the celebrations— the melee.

“Queen’s orders, my prince,” Cole explained, standing stoically in front of the brooding prince. “She wished to have you join the celebrations as soon as you returned, have the family all present in front of the people.”

Aemond grumbled under his breath all the way up the steps to the royal box, plopping exhaustedly into his seat beside Aegon. The elder patted him hard on the back, adding to his aggravation, clearly oblivious to his dampened mood. “Good to have you here in time to join us, brother, Reyne’s just about to fuck Tarly up,” he cackled, taking a big swig of his wine. 

“A change of clothes first would have been nice,” Aemond huffed, ignoring the battling knights as he looked around for his wife. He twisted around his seat in confusion at the absent sight of you, earning a look from his grandsire that had him uncharacteristically slumping in his seat.

“She’s with Helaena,” Aegon said, whose eyes stayed glued to the violent display before them. “Orwyle said it was ill luck for pregnant women to look upon violence or whatever he was on about. Your wife’s keeping her company.”

Aemond sighed defeatedly, his chest twinging with annoyance. Of fucking course. Everything seemed to be working against his wishes, toying with his already short patience. Gods be damned, they would know better to keep a man like him away from his wife. Perhaps this made him seem like an addict, no better than a drunk stuck to his bottle or a pervert to a whore, but he was well past the point of denying it. You were a part of him, whether either of you could help it or not.

He turned to his mother, who sat frowning with a hand half-covering her face as she watched on, muttering some half-excuse of wanting to freshen up and be rid of the smell of dragon on his skin before enjoying the festivities. The queen granted him leave with the ghost of a quirk on her lips and a knowing look, waving him off dismissively with a ringed hand.

He all but dashed the way back to the Keep, strides large and booming through the halls back to Maegor’s Holdfast. His pulse thumped heavily in his ears, his chest sparked with a renewed lightness with every step closer. Aemond found you in his sister’s apartments, sat on the settee as you embroidered. 

Your head shot up as the door swung open, eyes brightening like a starry night when they landed on him. “Aemond!” you gasped, promptly jumping up from your seat and into his arms. With how tight your arms wound around his neck, it was clear his dearest wife was just as tortured as he. 

Aemond nuzzled his nose into your hair, breathing in the sweet scent of your skin he had missed dearly. With you back in his arms, right where you belonged, everything felt warm. He felt near bursting at the seams, his body immediately responding to the heat of your body pressed against his. His lips found yours on instinct, hungrily devouring the sweet taste he’d grown starved for. Large, calloused hands wandered on their own, finding purchase on your rear with a tight squeeze. It made you whine, pulling away in haste to glance at a sleeping Helaena.  Her third pregnancy often had her weary, as she was now, laid on her bed, with the twins tucked on either side as they slept through the peaceful haze of the late afternoon.

“Come,” your husband ordered, grasping your wrist to pull you out of the room. The growing fire in his loins left him too impatient to lead you up another flight of stairs where your apartments were, urgency nagging at him to hasten lest someone called for him to return to the melee. He led you with quick steps to the end of the hall, in a quiet alcove where he pressed you against the wall, caged between his arms.

His mouth devoured yours, tongue slithering into the warm cavern and dancing with your own. It soon descended onto the length of your perfumed neck, nipping and biting at the spots that pulled deep, pleasant sighs. Your hands gripped his doublet, subtly pushing him away as you called his name.

“Husband, h-here?” you asked, mewling as he sucked on a particularly sensitive spot below your jaw. You were right, this wasn't exactly an ideal location for your reunion, but he was pressed for time, and having to wait to have you until nightfall would drive him to insanity.

“There’s not one soul around, dearest,” he said into your skin, parting with a kiss on the fresh mark. With the inhabitants of the Keep all away at the tournaments, the halls were empty enough, save for the occasional passing servant and the knight standing guard outside Helaena’s door. With the near ravenous state Aemond was in, he could give less fucks who could witness him taking his wife. Your skirts were messily rucked up to your hips, wandering hand dipping past your smallclothes and finding your heat, already dripping in sweet arousal. “Did you miss me this much, wife? You’re already soaked,” your husband chuckled devilishly, eye darkening when you bit your lip as he teased your slit. 

You nodded at him eagerly, a whine rising from your throat when his fingertip brushed against your pearl. “You were gone for too long, husband. It has been miserable without you. When I saw Vhagar fly over the city I could have dashed to the gates myself if Helaena didn’t need me,” you pouted. His heart swelled at your sweetness, peppering adoring kisses onto your hairline as you pulled him in even closer.

“I have been tormented just the same, my love. Every day that passed, you were all I thought about,” he whispered. “No one will keep me away from you now, sweet girl, I promise you.” 

Somewhere in the frenzy of tongue and spit, your smallclothes fell to the stone floor and his breeches were aptly unlaced. Your smaller, dainty hand wrapped around his hardened length, stroking his leaking cock. Gods, it was pathetic how he could come from your slightest touch. He grasped your wrist to stop you, gulping as he continued to twitch in your hold.

“Wait,” he huffed. The need possessed him with a primal urge, prompting him to grab hold of both of your thighs to lift you off your feet. With you pressed against the wall and holding onto his shoulders for dear life, Aemond sunk you onto his cock, down onto the hilt. There was little time to savor the subtle pulsating of your walls, his hips taking on a steady pace from the start. “Fucking... finally,” he grunted.

You bounced in his firm hold, lower back rubbing against the rough stone, but you didn’t seem to mind one bit. Quite the opposite, rather, with the way you openly moaned, your voice echoing through the dim hall. “Gods!” you whined. Your husband’s pace suddenly shifted, hips starting to slap more ferociously against yours. Any soul who would have the misfortune to walk these halls at this very moment would hear you from the opposite end from the resounding rhythm of skin against skin.

“There are no gods here, wife, just you and I,” Aemond growled against your ear, before biting down on your shoulder, making you squeal even louder.

“I– mmph! Ah, Aem–” Any semblance of coherence on your usually pretty head dissipated in a heady jumble. It made your husband smirk, despite the heat starting to tingle in the back of his neck.

“Something to say, my love? Or have I already fucked you into a loose whore, hm?” he taunted, chuckling under his breath when you merely whined in response. He was starting to overheat in his leathers, the sharp warmth in his nape slowly trickling down his spine to signal the start of his end. Something deep within his core made his abdomen flex, the ache in his thighs no match for the utter bliss of the warm embrace of your lovely cunt. With your legs wrapped around his trim waist, his hand raised to the back of your head, fingers wrapping around your hair to pull your forehead against his. He quickened his pace to spur you to your end first, thumb rubbing your pearl in tight circles. “Come for me, wife. I want to feel you spill around me. Go on,” he rasped, breath hot in your ear.

His wife was a moaning mess. You were never this loud, even in the privacy of your own chambers, but the separation had you desperate, heart sticky with need in a way you had never let yourself be before. He and you were both the same in this way, never too forward with what you wanted, until desire ate away at you from within and you started to lose better thinking.

With a particular harsh thrust, your release broke with a moan that Aemond was sure had echoed to the White Sword Tower. He came no second later with a lower, quieter grunt into your neck, spilling thick ropes of his warm seed into your quivering cunt.

You both stayed there for a second, breaths heavy and minds still in a cloud. Aemond placed you back onto your feet, though wobbly. He huffed amusedly, earning a warning smack on his chest as you furrowed your eyebrows playfully. His lips placed a kiss on your damp forehead, and you kissed his scarred cheek in return. For a second, you only looked at him, your flushed cheeks lifted in a smile, and it made him happy. 

An echo of clinking steel let Aemond know his time was up. He made sure your dress had been rightened and your hair smoothed before tying his breeches back up. The prince peeked to see Cole coming up the staircase, no doubt sent by his mother to take him away again. He sighed heavily, nuzzling one last time into your neck as you rubbed his back comfortingly. “You should go. Mustn’t let your mother fret,” you said softly. Your husband merely grunted in response, savoring the feeling of your fingers running through his hair. 

A clear of the throat from the knight made Aemond finally pull away, frowning despite the pleased smile on your lips as you smoothed his doublet. He parted with a kiss all-consuming, and whispers of a promise to fetch you the moment he could. 

His return to the royal box came with much reluctance, though his demeanor visibly changed. The tension was gone in his shoulders, his aura different, and his face not so grim anymore. He settled back into his seat with a deep exhale, directing his attention to the faceless lordlings swinging swords much too large for them, though his mind stayed in an alcove somewhere in the Keep. 

Beside him, Aegon yawned loudly, having grown deathly bored with the melee. Sensing the younger’s subtly brighter demeanor, he snickered under his breath. “Feeling rather refreshed now, are you?” he teased. 

Aemond’s gaze flickered to him in a glance, turning back to watch the young Bolton land the winning blow. “Hm, yes, quite.” He lifted his hand to a squire for wine, taking a small sip to quench his parched throat.

“Even without a proper change of clothes?” Aegon pushed, raising his brow mockingly. He cackled as Aemond shifted in his seat, a warning glare in his lone eye. The elder, unbothered, merely patted his brother’s knee as he shook his head. “Good for you, brother.”