#Aemond x Reader

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

20/12: Stockings and Sex Toys - modern!Aemond Targaryen Word Count: 1.2k~ | Warnings: use of sex toys, edging, slight degradation

12 Days of Smuff Masterlist

A/N: did a twist on stockings cos why not

He can feel his jaw get tight with frustration just watching her. Prancing around in fucking stockings no less. The sheer, lacy ones he'd bought her for valentine's day.

Granted, she looked amazing in them. And she probably knew it. But it was getting all the wrong attention at the little Christmas party his mother had decided to throw, with half of fucking Westeros in attendance.

Well, little was the word she had described, anyway.

Every male eye was on her. And it was infuriating.

But no gaze on her made him more angry, than his brother, Aegon's. Simply because he was not afraid to make his opinions known. It was like every sordid thought made its way from his brain to his lips with no filter whatsoever.

Aemond sat at the bar, his fingers wrapped tightly around the tumbler of whiskey, the ice clinking softly as he swirled it. His gaze never strayed far from her. She was radiant, laughing at something Helaena had said, her voice like a melody over the low hum of the Christmas party, all violin music, laughter and the popping of expensive champagne. If he weren't so on edge, the space was so aglow, he'd be tempted to fall asleep. The lacy edge of the stockings he’d bought her peeked out when she shifted her weight, just enough to set every man in the room on edge.

The tight pencil skirt hugged her curves perfectly, paired with a soft, form-fitting top that dipped just low enough to be enticing. It was a simple outfit, but she made it look extraordinary, effortlessly captivating.

And everyone else noticed.

Aegon, perched lazily on the barstool beside him, was anything but subtle. He leaned back with a smirk, his eyes trailing her shamelessly.

“Gods,” Aegon said, his voice low but dripping with amusement. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say she’s putting on a show.”

“Watch your mouth, Aegon.”

Aegon chuckled, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Relax, I’m just saying. She knows what she’s doing. You see how she crosses her legs when she sits? Makes the lace peek out just enough—”

“If you value your teeth, you’ll shut up now.”

But Aegon wasn’t done. He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. “Don’t tell me you’re not enjoying this. Watching every man in this room wish they could trade places with you. Even Uncle Daemon can’t keep his eyes off her.”

Aemond’s gaze flickered briefly toward Daemon, who was, indeed, glancing in her direction with a sly smirk, though pretending not to over the rim of his glass. That was the last straw.

Without a word, Aemond stood, his drink forgotten on the bar. He crossed the room in long strides, his eyes locked on her as she stood near the fireplace, chatting with none other than Cregan Stark, who was equally giving her eyes.

She looked up as he approached, her eyes sparkling with delight. “Hey, you—” she started, but Aemond didn’t let her finish.

He slipped a possessive arm around her waist, pulling her close. His lips brushed her ear as he murmured, “you’re coming with me.”

He didn't speak as he guided her up the grand staircase, one hand splayed on her lower back. She could feel the tension radiating off him, his eye dark with desire and anger alike. When they reached the guest room, she clasped her hands behind her back, feigning innocence as Aemond pushed the door shut.

“Sit.”

She plopped onto the bed, looking up at him with a playful, knowing smirk.

“You're upset,” she teased, crossing her legs, allowing the lace of her stockings to peek through again. She saw the flicker of his eye to her exposed skin. “Is it my outfit?”

“Don't play dumb.”

She leaned back on her palms, “or what?”

She saw the tight muscle in his jaw tick. He fumbled at the sleek black tie around his neck, yanking it off as if were personally strangling him, suddenly feeling his neck get hot. A few buttons followed, and then, with his expression still firm and hard on her, his attention directed to his sleeves, pulling them up his forearms and curling it onto itself, as if he were preparing to get his hands dirty.

Her eyes widened slightly, but her smirk remained, "don't look so mad, baby."

"Oh, I'm not mad."

"What then?" she asked lightly.

Aemond didn’t respond with words. Instead, he reached for the overnight bag he’d left in the corner of the room earlier. Her eyebrows arched in surprise as he unzipped it, pulling out a sleek, black vibrator.

Her teasing demeanour faltered for a moment, replaced by curiosity and a flicker of excitement. “You brought that with you?” 

“I knew I’d need it,” he said. He stepped toward her, the toy in hand, his movements deliberate.

Before she could respond, he knelt between her legs, his hands trailing up her thighs, pushing her skirt higher. She gasped as his fingers hooked into the delicate lace of her matching underwear, tugging them down just enough to give him access. His lips followed, kissing along the inside of her thigh, making her squirm.

“Aemond…” she breathed, but he silenced her with a look.

“Lay back,” he commanded, and she obeyed, her heart racing as she stretched out on the bed.

He flicked the toy on, the soft hum filling the room and annoyingly, automatically on the lowest setting. He brought it to her inner thigh first, teasing, making her squirm under his touch. Her smirk returned, though her breath hitched.

“Still feeling cocky?” he asked, his voice low as he moved the vibrator closer to her centre, clicking a setting up, hovering just above where she needed him most.

She bit her lip, her hands gripping the sheets. “Maybe a little,” she managed, though her voice wavered.

“Good,” he said, finally pressing the toy against her. She arched her back with a gasp, her teasing demeanor melting away as pleasure overtook her.

Aemond’s smirk deepened as he moved the vibrator in slow, deliberate circles, keeping her on the edge without giving her the release she so desperately craved. Every time her breathing quickened, every time her hips bucked against him, he pulled back just enough to keep her teetering on the brink.

“You’re cruel,” she gasped, her voice a mix of frustration and need. Her hands gripped the sheets tightly, her body writhing beneath his touch. “Aemond, please…”

He tilted his head, his eye dark and predatory. “Please what?” he asked, his tone mocking. He slid the toy lower, letting it graze her most sensitive spot before pulling it away again. “I thought you liked teasing. Or maybe not when it's the other way around?”

She let out a soft whimper, her back arching as she tried to chase the sensation.

He dragged the toy down her thigh before bringing it back up, the vibrations steady but maddeningly light. “I could let you come. But I’m enjoying this far too much. Look at you,” he murmured, his gaze raking over her body. “Squirming. Begging. All because of me.”

But even Aemond had his limits. Watching her like this, hearing her beg, feeling the way she trembled beneath his touch, it was driving him mad.

When her pleas grew more desperate, her body arching into him, he finally relented, tossing the toy aside. “You want me to fuck you?” he asked, his voice low, rough.

“Yes,” she breathed, her eyes locked on his. “Now. Fuck the party.”

He suppressed the urge to grin. Fuck the party, indeed.

Aemond didn’t need to be told twice. With a growl, he captured her lips in a searing kiss, his hands already working to free himself as he finally gave in, pressing against her hot and waiting centre, eager to take him.

She tugged at her stockings, the lace now slightly askew, but he caught her hands, pinning them above her head with one of his.

“Leave them on.”

General Taglist: @1lluminaticonfirmed @aemondsfavouritebastard @all-for-aemond @bellstwd @blackswxnn

@blairfox04 @buckybarnesb-tch @castellomargot @cl-0-vr @eddieslut69

@emmaisafictionwhore @eponaartemisa @hb8301 @jamespotterismydaddy @justbelljust

@minholy223 @mochi-rose @natty2017 @nenelysian @nixiefics

@primonizzutto @qyburnsghost @randomdragonfires @risefallrise @sheshellsseashells

[thought--bubble]

😂😂 yeah he's a bit of a jerk here! Thanks for reading!

Things We Cannot Change

Dark Aemond X (Strong Niece Reader)

Warnings Below

Word Count: 1,938

Aemond (Canon Era) Masterlist

Full Masterlist

Banners & Dividers by @arcielee

Based on THIS request

Warnings:: Reader's hair is brown. That's the only descriptor due to the request received, Breeding kink, Targcest, Virginity Loss. Mental abuse, mentions of character deaths.

On your knees.

A place you thought you would never be, but alas here you are. On your knees looking up at the cold, cruel face of your uncle.

Once a boy you played with, read with, considered a friend. Now, he holds the life of your youngest brother in his hands. The only member of your family you have left.

"I ask you, Aemond-" He interrupts you with a cruel chuckle.

"King Aemond, my dear"

You cringe at the title. The war that ravaged both of your families put him on that throne. The thought of all you had lost made you sick.

"I ask you, your grace, to please spare my brother and I. There are so few of valyrian blood left." You keep your head bowed, your knees aching against the cold stone beneath them.

The both of you go quiet, you could still smell your mothers burning flesh, hear her screams as she was scorched and eaten alive in front of your very eyes. All for nothing, you thought. Your entire family is dead for Aemond to be the one to ascend the throne.

Your mother had been executed immediately, no court, no trial, just a woman and a dragon. Aegon II had demanded that you be executed as well, but luckily for you, he did not survive the trip back to the capital. Thus, your younger brother and you had been delivered to Aemond as traitors.

Followers of the false queen is what Aegon II had called you. Worthy of a public execution.

"On that front, we can agree bastard" He places his fingers delicately under your chin and tilts your face up towards him.

"I fear that dragon riders may become a thing that history boasts about if we are not careful in our decisions." He rubs his thumb gently across your bottom lip.

"So you and I shall marry, to preserve the bloodline," you audibly gasp at the absurd statement. You were now a mere strong bastard not fit to be queen.

"B-but your grace, I have been stripped of all royal titles. Surely I am not worthy to marry the King"

"You are not." he says curtly."But, preserving our dragon blood is of higher importance than that of courtly titles." He removes his hand from your chin and steps back, clasping his hands behind his back.

"The choice is yours, dear niece. Marry me or face the blade. If not to breed you, I have no further use of you."

You gulp audibly as your eyes begin to well. "I shall serve my duty to the realm your grace."

The betrothal was announced to the realm with mixed reactions. Some houses understand the reasoning others are very upset that a bastard would be queen and not one of their highborn daughters.

All concerns fell upon deaf ears because Aemond knew what he wanted, and he wanted you. As king, he would have exactly what he wanted.

Your life changed very little after the announcement of the betrothal. You were given chambers instead of being in the dungeons, but you were not trusted.

You were escorted everywhere you went, and the incoming title of Queen did little to garner you any respect.

Everyone knew what you were. A vessel to breed valyrian blooded babies and nothing more.

What was worse was the embarrassment.

Aemond made sure to embarrass you at any opportunity. He would have you serve him at meal times instead of servants. Pull his bath for him. Even perform his ridiculous hair care routine. All of it meant to demean you.

You had hoped that after the wedding, he would stop this disgusting showcase and allow you at least a modicum of comfort, but even in that thought, you were mistaken.

After the two of you had been escorted to your marriage chambers and left alone, Aemond ordered you to pour his wine and stand in the corner. Once again, as if you were a servant and the treatment had finally become too much for you to bare.

"I'll take the sword," you say after moments of silence have fallen between you.

"Pardon?" Aemond lifts an eyebrow and looks up at you.

"I will take the sword, i do not wish to live this way for years and years." You stand with conviction. "I ask only that you spare Aegon so that he might have children in the future."

Aemond chuckles and sips his wine. "The offer has expired, dear wife. You are mine now, to toy with as I please."

"I was kind to you!" The words almost echo throughout the room. The connotation is clear.

"You were." He simply nods and continues to look into your eyes, no clear expression on his face.

"Then why do you treat me like this? Like a-" You search your mind for the words but come up empty.

"Like a traitor? Because you are a traitor. You knew the laws of the world in which you live. You did not at any time attempt to talk my dear sister out of war, did you?" He stands up from his chair and stalks towards you.

"My sister Helaena took her own life, my nephews murdered in the cruelest of fashions." His breath is heavy as he glares at you with his one eye. "You were complicit in their deaths. How should i treat you?"

"As if I lost nothing? You killed Luke. You weren't complicit in it. You did it with your own hand!" You can feel your rage bubbling up in your chest and try to suppress it to no avail.

"You killed Rhaenys and Daemon. There is far more dragon blood on your hands than mine. " You regret the words as soon as you say them, expecting his wrath to be swift and harsh.

He clicks his tongue and looks away from you. "That may be true, but there will not be anymore dragon blood spilled by me. Least of all yours."

He walks toward you but stops when he sees you backing away from him and sighs. "There are things we can not change. The war. The losses we suffered." He continues to advance on you but moves much more slowly.

"Although I believe I can change this, your fear of me."

"I am not afraid." You attempt to sound convincing, yet the shake to your voice gives you away.

"Let me try," He says gently as he gets close enough to cup your face. "This needn't be a marriage filled with fear and hate. We are all that is left of the house of the dragon. Let us rebuild, together"

Your heart cramps in your chest at his words and soft demeanor. This is the Aemond you remember. The boy who was always gentle with you, kind. Not the monster who murdered your brother and countless others in a ruthless pursuit for the throne.

"I have known fear. I do not wish to spend the remainder of my days being the cause of yours." He presses his forehead to yours and kisses the tip of your nose.

"Will you stop? The public shaming?" A tear trickles down your cheek at the thought of continuing to live in this manner. The abuses mounting, the shame unbearable.

"Yes. twill not happen again." He takes your face in his hands and lifts until your eyes meet. "This i swear."

He gently kisses your cheek where the tears have started to fall.

"We have all shed enough tears for a thousand lifetimes." He wipes a tear from your other cheek with his thumbs. "No more."

He pulls you close to his chest, gently swaying from side to side. "Shhh." He tries to comfort you as he strokes your hair.

He very softly brings his lips to yours and whispers. "Let me be more than the monster, I implore you."

You press your lips to him in desperation. Do you love him? No.

Will you ever truly trust or forgive him? Most likely not, but you want to feel something. Anything other than the dull ache that you have carried in your chest since the day Luke died.

If Aemond was aware of your true feelings, he did not let on. He reciprocated your neediness with hungry kisses of his own before lifting you and carrying you over to the bed chamber.

"I always wanted you to be my wife," He admits between kisses. "Always"

You choose not to respond, instead pulling at his clothes. He drops you down onto the bed and rucks up your skirts. Pulling your small clothes down quickly.

"Close your eyes," He whispers huskily, kissing up your inner thigh. You comply with his demands, closing your eyes and turning your mind off. Surrendering entirely to the physical sensations you are experiencing.

He brings his hand to your heat, pushing you open before bringing his tongue down upon you. The feeling is overwhelming at first, and you can't help but cry out.

He tightly grips your thigh as he nudges his nose against your clit, running his tongue along your tight entrance. Never before have you felt something like this and as if your body is controlled by an invisible force your hips buck up towards his face.

He chuckles and grips your hips, holding you in place. "Patience my love, patience" He circles your clit with his tongue, the gentle flicking driving you to near madness.

"Oh gods," you bite your bottom lip as an unfamiliar pressure builds up in your lower stomach. "Aemond!" You clench at the bedsheets beneath you, the breath tight in your lungs as a searing fire moves throughout your entire being.

"Gods!" You arch your back as the feeling hits a peak before dropping back on the bed, your breath coming out in short huffs.

Aemond chuckles as he removes his breeches his hard cock slapping against his stomach. "Im going to fill you with my babes and everything will be better."

He moves on top of you prodding your entrance with the tip of his cock. "Hold onto me, this may hurt for just a moment" He warns, gentleness in his voice.

You head his warning, wrapping your hands around his back, as he begins to push into you, the stretch painful, not excruciatingly so but shocking nonetheless.

"eeeek," you can't help the slight screech that escapes your throat.

"Shhhh, it is alright." He comforts while he continues pushing into you until his hips meet yours.

"Are you alright?" He asks, his breathing labored.

You are ok. The pain, the fullness. It is something, and after so long of feeling nothing, the something, even if it is pain, is relieving.

He thrusts his hips against you, steadily increasing his pace. "You will be with child soon. We will be happy then, " He huffs.

You close your eyes and hold his head to you as he buries his face in your neck gently kissing at the sensitive skin there, and for the first time since the war began you feel calm.

His grip on you tightens as he buries himself to the hilt in you again. "We will be happy. we will" he grunts into your ear as the pressure once again builds up in your lower stomach.

As the two of you reach your peaks together, trembling and smiling you allow yourself to believe.

Even if just for a moment. That he is right. He is telling the truth.

That even after so much death and loss, the house of the dragon can stand tall and be happy once again.

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[adragonprinceswhore]

Celebratory Dinner

Aemond Targaryen x Girlfriend!Reader

Summary: Aemond wants to try something new for your one year anniversary.

Warnings: 18+, AFAB reader, she/her pronouns, fluff, lovestruck Aemond, oral (f. & m. receiving), 69, spanking, manhandling, rimming (f. receiving)

A/N: This is straight up porn lmao. A request by anon from last December, enjoy! 🩵

Word Count: 1800

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“What time did you say we have reservations?”

Observing your reflection, an annoyed huff leaves your lips as you try to pin your hair back for what feels like the 50th time.

Uncooperative, it seems like your locks stubbornly refuse to wield into the style you have in mind.

Fuck it.

You throw the pin into the sink and sigh loudly, hands coming up to harshly unravel your hard work.

Before you get the chance to do more damage, Aemond appears behind you and gently places his hands over yours,

“In 30 minutes”

He leans to the side and picks up the hair pin you’d thrown into the sink.

“Let me help you”, he says softly, inspecting your hair before sliding the pin between your strands to effortlessly accomplish what you’d spent a good 10 minutes fussing over.

You roll your eyes when the cocksure smirk you’ve come to expect appears in the mirror.

“You’re insufferable”, you mumble, inspecting your hair. He had a habit of being unexplainably talented whenever he tried something out, especially tasks that required him to work with his hands. It was equally enchanting and infuriating.

“You love me”, is all he retorts. He’s still standing behind you, watching you through the mirror with an intense glint in his eye, “You look beautiful”

He ducks his head down to press a kiss to your cheek while his hands grabbing your hips. You lean back against him, smiling as you regard the pair of you in the mirror.

One year today.

When you first met Aemond, he didn’t give the best impression with his stern demeanour and one-worded answers. But as you got to know him better, you soon learned that his stoic appearance merely worked as a façade for him to hide behind. He doesn’t hide from you anymore.

“What kind of place is it? Dornish?”, you ask as Aemond places kisses down the side of your neck.

He hums in reply, lips refusing to leave your skin.

“Did your mum recommend it?”, you tease, knowing that anytime you two ventured outside of the regular rotation of restaurant Aemond deemed worthy a visit, it was by the influence of his mother.

You feel him smile against your skin, and it’s all the confirmation you need. The hands on your hips begin to caress your sides slowly as his mouth moves down to your exposed shoulder.

“So, celebratory dinner. What about the rest of the evening?”, you ponder aloud as Aemond’s attention stays on exploring your softness with his lips.

“I have a few ideas”, he murmurs, mouth coming up to nibble at your ear, “But I prefer showing you over telling you”

You feel a bolt of excitement travel through your body at the thought. He’s ridiculously skilled at rendering you a wanting mess, and the brief attention he’d offered you now had already left the apex of your thighs delightfully sticky. Maybe there’s time for a quick pre-dinner treat?

You push your ass against him, slightly wiggling your hips in provocation, hoping he’ll take the bait.

He does. Aemond traps you in the embrace of his strong arms as he roughly pulls your body against his, the hard proof of his arousal pushing against your backside.

“You want me to show you right now?”, he lowly inquires against the shell of your ear, and the sudden husky tint to his voice sends you deeper into the trenches of desire.

You grind your ass against him in reply, head rolling back to rest against his shoulder. You tilt your head slightly to the side, careful not to ruin the styling Aemond had helped you achieve.

Impatient, a state you often find yourself in around your partner, you start pulling at the form-fitted evening dress you’re wearing, visions of him taking you against the vanity unit flashing before your eyes. Even after being together for a full year, the effect he has on you is potent, if not a little worrying.

Aemond’s hands find yours as he once again restricts their movement, grabbing your wrists in one hand as the other moves down to land a smack against your still covered ass.

“We’re not celebrating our anniversary with a quick fuck in the bathroom”, he chides, voice low and still calm, “Get on the bed”

You feel giddy with excitement as you rush out of the bathroom, moving to quickly sit on the cotton-clad duvet adoring the bed.

Aemond’s right behind you. His fingers move swiftly to undo the buckle of his belt while his gaze stays trained on you. The familiar clink of metal makes your core clench in anticipation as you look up at him, now standing right in front of you. You’re determined to get him as worked up as you are; to balance out the power.

Your hands come up to assist him, grabbing the belt buckle and pulling the leather band out of the belt loop. Your expression is innocent enough, voice overly sweet as you look up at him and ask, “Can I suck you off, baby?”

Your rousing proves successful. Aemond’s jaw tightens, one eyebrow rises as the corner of his mouth slightly twitches to fight off a smirk.

“Why should you have all the fun?”, he questions as he gestures for you to move further up the bed. You comply, allowing Aemond to manoeuvre your position so it is to his liking. He places you on your side, surprising you by lifting one of your legs and laying his head down on your thigh, facing your core.

He revels in your softness for a moment, nuzzling the smooth skin of your inner thigh before pressing trailing kisses up to your centre, teeth biting into the flimsy fabric of your lace thong, moving it to the side.

He wastes no time in devouring you, diving into the apex of your thighs without restrain. The tip of his pointed nose pushes pleasure from your swollen clit out through your entire being, causing you to moan his name and arch your back, pushing yourself further into his face.

He brings a large hand up to grab the flesh of your ass, encouraging your previous movement. His tongue comes out to swipe over your bundle of nerves in confident strokes, and when you let your hips absentmindedly rock against his face, he moans unabashedly into your heat.

Eye-level with his crotch, you watch as his length strains against his trousers in neglect.

Your fingers move skillfully to undo the buttons, releasing his cock with one swift motion before indulging as quickly as your lover had, tongue collecting the pearly proof of arousal from his red tip.

Aemond moans again as you take him into the warm wetness of your mouth, letting your tongue explore the veins of his cock. His hips begin to match yours; both of your bodies moving in a slow rhythm as you give and take pleasure.

His tongue finds your entrance, slightly stretching you out as it searches for that special spot inside you that makes you see stars. Aemond finds it in seconds, erupting a choked moan from you, causing you to vibrate around him, eliciting a moan from him.

Aemond, set on having you peak before him, continues to fuck you with his tongue as the sharp point of his chin bullies your clit. Though the build up is exquisite, it is nothing compared to the peak that he suddenly pulls from you, causing the muscles of your thighs to press against the sides of his head as your walls capture his tongue like a vice.

Any attempts at pleasuring him falter as you're consumed by electric satisfaction, senses fully consumed. You selfishly throw your head back in pleasure, neglecting his aching want as you cry out your own.

Aemond’s face moves away from you as well, looking down to observe your bliss-filled features. He’s breathing heavily, face flustered pink and wetness adoring almost every bit of skin visible.

“Turn over”, he commands breathlessly, manhandling you so that you lay on your stomach before you even have a chance to oblige on your own accord.

He impatiently moves his hands over your pliant body, grabbing your ass in an instruction for you to keep it in the air.

Pleasure is still ebbing inside of you, yet you try your best to yield to his silent command, weak legs folding underneath you so that he can access your backside.

He swipes two fingers through your folds, making your body jerk slightly in overstimulation as they grace your clit before sliding inside you, finding your sweet spot instantaneously yet again.

He’s really learned every single way to give you pleasure; either as an act of love or ownership.

His fingers move slowly, clearly on a mission to steal another peak from you, while you’re still basking in the bliss of the first one. He moves towards the exposed cheek of your ass, teasingly biting the smooth flesh, soothing it with a kiss as you yelp in surprise at the sting.

“You taste so good, baby”, he praises you, “so fucking perfect for me”

You close your eyes and push your flustered face into the duvet on the bed as you feel Aemond’s tongue swipe over your ass, moving closer to the cleft, leaving teeth marks and saliva in his wake.

Your hands fist the bedding next to you as his tongue moves closer to your puckered hole, gently caressing the sensitive skin surrounding it.

His fingers persistently bully the most responsive spot inside you and paired with the slow movements of his tongue, you’re consumed by another forceful orgasm.

You cry out, voice muffled against the bed. Your walls contract rhythmically against Aemonds finger as he works you through the high, moaning loudly behind you. You’re almost certain he’s climaxed too by the sounds of his ragged breath behind you. It shouldn’t surprise you, there’s nothing he loves more than having you at his mercy.

A giggle escapes you, muffled by the duvet your face is still pressed against. You don’t have to lift your head to know that Aemond’s crooking an eyebrow at your unexpected laugh, and before he has a chance to ask, you tell him,

“I think you’ll have to fix my hair again”

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[lionneee]

Let The World Burn

Masterlist

Taglist

English is not my first language, please be kind

Modern!MafiaBoss!Aemond x fem!Reader

•Warnings: murder, kidnapping, attempted rape, omicide, fire.•

“Your boyfriend is a tough one.” He smirked as he walked behind you. You tried to talk against the gag, but all it came out were strangled sounds and whines. “He’s also hard to find.” The man pushed the blindfold down your head, over your eyes.

You trembled on the floor, fear consuming you.

“Way harder than you are anyway.” He chuckled. “But you’ll be more than useful to do the trick. I’d be surprised if I won’t see your pretty boyfriend kicking down the door to get you.”

“Sir- I’m sorry, but the lead we had turned out wrong-“

“Get out!” Aemond raised from the chair of his office, his loud voice filling the room. The private detective quickly left the office, running outside.

Aemond was a complete mess.

He managed to resist two days with your missing, before it completely started to tore him apart. He was completely out of his head, he needed to find you.

He threw the papers on his desk on the floor with all the force he had, then he paced in the room, his hair a mess, his knuckles bloody from the amount of jaws he broke to get any kind of information about your abduction.

“Fuck!” He shouted as he hit the wall with his fist.

“You need to eat.” He said as he walked in the room, taking off your gag by undoing the tie on the back of your head. “We’re not trying to kill you.” He said before freeing your hands, sitting on the chair right in front of you. You looked down at the floor, finding a tray with food and water. You quickly started to eat, you had been starving for days. You looked up at him for a moment, curious about your kidnapper.

White hair.

You scooped back on the floor, managing to get away maybe a couple of inches before hitting the pole you’ve been handcuffed to with your back.

“Daemon.” You mumbled, Your voice was shaking as much as your hands.

“That would be me, princess.” He smirked as he sat back on his chair.

“W-why are you doing this?” You kept stuttering, you were terrified. “I-I didn’t-”

“I know. You didn’t do anything.” He cut you off. “But your boyfriend… My nephew did. He killed someone he shouldn’t have touched.” He looked loosely at you, studying your reaction.

You looked at him confused, your brows arching, your expression contorting into one of confusion, then pain, then disbelief.

“Luke.” You whispered as soon as the realisation hit you. Daemon’s gaze hardened but then he nodded. 

“Smart girl.” He commented. “He killed him. So now I have to kill Aemond.”

“No!” Your voice raised, your eyes filling with tears as soon as you saw the seriousness in his intentions. “Y-you can’t! He’s your family!” You shook your head, your hands flying to the knife on the tray. But Daemon was faster, blocking both of your wrists the moment you moved, and handcuffing them back to the pole behind you. 

“Luke was family too.” He growled. You squirmed, trying to get free, but to no avail. Demon put the gag back on and left you to cry as he walked away again in the darkness of the room.

“They’re trying to torture you, brother.” Aegon said as he looked at his brother. He was leaning against his desk table, his nails scraping the expensive wood. His head was hung down, his hair covering his face. “You have to get yourself back together. We have to think of strategies on how to take them down.”

His brother was the last one that had a right to say something like that to Aemond.

They took his girl, damn it.

“Get out.” Aemond growled. 

It had been weeks since the last time he got a proper sleep. He was cold, his bed was colde.

You weren’t there to warm it for him.

To warm him.

His fingers ached to feel your skin again, so soft, and smooth.

He missed your scent, even more now, since the pillow lost any trace of it. 

The first days he pressed his face in it, and fucked his hand.

Then he would just scream in it, then fall asleep surrounded by your scent.

The day he couldn't smell you anymore, he thought he might actually go crazy, for good.

He missed you.

And he needed you, he knew it now better than ever.

“I’m impressed by your lack of preparation for this kind of situation.” She immediately sat up, her eyes snapping open at the sound of his voice. Daemon pushed the tray towards her and she  quickly lunged forward to at least drink some water.

“W-why? Why now?” She looked up at him and he took off her handcuffs. She quickly grabbed some bread from the tray and started eating it.

There was no scheme on the timing of her meals. They seemed random, and curiosity was keeping her mind full.

She didn’t know why she cared so much to find that out, if it was boredness or just a way to escape the fear.

Daemon chuckled as he sat on the chair as usual.

“You think you’re having a hard time, uh? Being kidnapped, staying here, in the darkness and coldness.” He let out a scoff. “You eat whenever Rhaenyra eats.” He explained. 

Rhaenyra.

“S-so that’s your first thought when you see her eat? Feed me?”

“You’re not the victim here. Whatever you’re going through, is nothing compared to Rhaenyra’s pain. You’re hungry? You’re scared? She’s grieving a son..” He hissed as he stood up, walking closer, squeezing your cheeks in his hand. 

Your eyes filled with tears as she only tried to imagine what it would be like to lose a son.

To lose something that you made, that you gave birth to. That you raised and loved.

“I’m sorry.” She whispered as strong conflicting emotions grew inside you.

How could you love Aemond, knowing he was the cause of such pain?

Knowing he was capable of killing one of his own family, knowing that the pain Rhaenyra is suffering now, is bigger than anything Aemond could have gone through when he lost his eye.

“You…” He clenched his jaw. “You are going to suffer. You are going to stay here, with fear eating you alive. The fear that I might come in, and beat you, not feed you ever again, touch you, rape you.” He growled, his face a mask of fury. You whined as he clenched his hands on your cheeks, hurting you, and tried to break free, but he was determined to keep you there.

“And whenever one of those things will happen.” He moved closer, his face inches from yours. “You better remember, this is all Aemond’s fault.” He then pressed his lips against yours, but it wasn't out of affection or desire.

Or better, it wasn’t about sexual desire.

It was a promise that he will act on his threats.

“Listen, Aemond, you have to face it. She’s gone. They’re letting you think she’s still alive only to mess with you, okay? We have a war to win, we can’t let an insignificant girl reduce you like-”

Aemond just snapped.

An insignificant girl? She was the love of his life.

Aemond quickly wrapped a hand around Aegon's neck, squeezing tight as he pushed him back against the wall.

“What did you say?” He hissed, his voice low and dangerous. Aegon widened his eyes, struggling against his brother's hold.

“L-Listen man-” Aegon’s voice was strained due to the lack of air. “J-just saying, okay? She was pretty and all but-”

“But nothing.” He shoved Aegon away, letting him fall on the floor. “I’m giving you two more days.” He said as he sat back on his chair behind his desk. “Then I’ll burn the world to the fucking ground, with you in it.”

“Wake up!” You heard a loud yell, a male voice that snapped you out of your moment of sleep.

“I said, wake up!” He yelled again, grabbing your hair and yanking your face up from the floor.

You let out a sharp scream at the pain then went through your head.

“Tell me where he is.” Daemon crunched down in front of you, his hand closing into a fist and pulling your hair harder. You whined loudly as you tried to raise your head to reduce the pain, but it was useless, you were too tired, too weak.

“I don’t know..:” You sobbed, opening your eyes slowly, trying to adjust to the strong light that was pointed at your face.

You’ve spent days, maybe even weeks in darkness, your eyes weren’t used to the light anymore, let alone such a strong one.

“Bullshit. Start talking.” He growled as he tugged at your hair.

“I swear I don’t!” You sobbed. “We never met in any place of his business, I don’t know!” You cried desperately.

Daemon let out a loud grunt, shoving your head back and sending it against the pole behind you.

Your vision blurred as your body slowly grew weaker to even stay awake.

The last thing you heard was:

“Arrange her funeral. Rhaenys deserves it.”

“It’s been months.” Helaena said as she sat beside him on his couch.

“She’s not dead.” Aemond grunted. His elbows rested on his knees, the palms of his hands holding his head.

He was tired of people remembering him how long it had passed.

He had already been too patient, but Aegon had only one day left.

Then he was going to take the world, and destroy it piece by piece until he’d found her.

“If she would have been dead we would have found the body already.” Helaena patted his shoulder awkwardly. “I don’t think she’s dead. I… I can feel it.” She whispered.

Aemond clenched his hands into fists.

He had always been the first to push Helaena back, telling her that the way she just felt things was absurd and surreal. 

Useless.

“Me too.” He breathed out, passing his hand through his hair in frustration. “She is alive.” He stood up and walked to his desk again.

That was when Aegon stormed inside.

“Found her.”

“Stay away!” You yelled as Daemon grabbed your ankle, dragging you towards him.

“Shut up, bitch.” He growled as he hovered over you, pinning your wrists over your head with one hand, and slapping your face with the other. “You’re just a cheap whore he bought. He doesn’t care about you, he’s not going to save you.” He hissed as he settled between your legs, thrusting his hips between your thighs, making clear his intention. “You’re only good for one thing.” He put his hand over one of your breasts, groping it tightly, making you whine and cry in pain. “He has left you behind. He left you to me.”

You screamed and kicked your feet, trying to get him off of you, but it seemed impossible.

“No! No, please no!” You sobbed as you kept squirming. “Don’t touch me! Please, I’m so sorry for Rhaenyra, please!” You cried desperately, but he simply smiled.

“Shut up.” He chuckled, in a sickening, mad way. “Shut the fuck up.” He laughed even more. “You’re mine now. You’re my prize. My trophy.”

“No -” You screamed as soon as he grabbed your knee to spread your legs, so he could grind against you. Daemon tried to kiss you, but you quickly turned your head, and screamed again as you saw a wooden wall catching fire quickly.

Daemon’s head quickly turned as he smelled the smoke and saw the fire lighting the room.

He quickly stood up as he looked at the fire, which kept eating everything it found.

“Kill anyone you see. I’ll go get her.” He told Aegon before entering the house. He put on his mask and walked in the big fog of smoke, his gun in hand.

Everyone was quickly running out, no one seemed to see or care about him as he walked inside.

Pieces of the house were starting to fall, the fire was burning everything it found.

Then he heard a scream, and his ears suddenly perked out.

He quickly ran toward the scream, stepping to a side of the house that hadn’t really picked up fire yet. He stopped in front of a door and quickly kicked it open the moment he heard another scream.

The fire in the room lightened the room enough for Aemond to see the scene clearly.

Daemon was on top of you.

And he was touching you.

Aemond's vision went red.

With a feral growl, he raised his gun, the barrel pointed directly at Daemon’s head. Before Daemon could react, a single deafening gunshot rang through the room. The bullet struck Daemon squarely in the shoulder, knocking him off of you with a roar of pain.

“Get your fucking hands off her.” Aemond snarled, stepping closer as Daemon writhed on the floor. His icy blue eye burned with rage, his jaw clenched so tight it could crack. He aimed the gun again, this time pointing at Daemon’s crotch, shaking with the force of his fury.

Daemon’s scream of pain almost shook the walls of the room, but Aemond couldn’t care less.

You were trembling, tears streaming down your face as you scrambled back against the pole where your wrists were still handcuffed to. Aemond’s gaze flicked to you, softening for just a moment. His chest heaved as he took in your disheveled appearance, the bruises on your wrists, the fear in your eyes. His heart broke and hardened all at once.

“You’ll die here, Daemon.” Aemond spat, his voice cold and merciless. Without hesitation, he pulled the trigger again, this time hitting Daemon’s leg. A scream tore from Daemon’s throat, but his laughter didn’t stop, maddeningly unhinged.

“You think this will bring her back to you? She knows what you’ve done.” Daemon wheezed. “She’ll never look at you the same.”

Aemond's eye narrowed. He took a step closer and delivered a swift, brutal kick to Daemon’s side, silencing him momentarily. He quickly searched him to find the keys to your handcuffs and as soon as he found them he turned back to you, crouching low and reaching out carefully.

“It’s me, baby." He murmured, his voice gentler now. “I’m here. I’ve got you.”

You flinched at first, but as recognition dawned, you started sobbing uncontrollably. Aemond quickly freed your wrists and wrapped his arms around you tightly, one hand cradling the back of your head, the other gripping you like he’d never let go. “You’re safe now." He whispered, rocking you gently despite the chaos around you. “No one will ever touch you again. I swear it.”

The sound of creaking wood snapped him back to the present. The fire was spreading rapidly, consuming the walls and ceiling. Aemond stood, lifting you effortlessly into his arms. You clung to him, your hands fisting in his shirt as he carried you out of the room.

You could see Daemon still looking at you, a sad smile on his face.

You almost pitied him, despite knowing who he was, and what he just tried to do to you, you still felt sorry for him.

Because the man that was now carrying you out of the house in fire, had won a third time, and with that, the whole war.

That man, Aemond, destroyed their life, and killed them inside the moment he shot Luke’s head.

Aemond paused at the doorway, glancing back at Daemon, who was slumped on the floor, bleeding and coughing. “Burn in hell." Aemond said coldly before turning and carrying you out of the burning house.

Even if you did want to leave, where could you go?

Aemond looked down at you as he carried you outside, and you coughed because of the smoke. His eyes studied carefully your face as his hands tightened around you.

He was not going to let you go, so where could you go?

Aemond gently placed you in his car and before walking to the driver seat, he gently caressed your face.

“I’m never letting you out of my sight again, baby.”

A shiver went down your spine, and suddenly, a feeling you never thought you would feel with Aemond spreaded in your chest.

Fear.

Because even if you wanted to leave, there was nowhere to go. 

You were stuck with a serial killer that loved you.

Taglist: @ka1afbr@cynic-spirit@ladythornofrivia@zenka69@queenofthekeep@adorewhatever@diannnnsss@kotadislikesthissite@iloveallmyboys @valyrianflower @dixie-elocin @gelacat0413 @quinquinquincy @mamawiggers1980 @darylandbethfanforever9 @rhaethoughts @believeinthefireflies95 @urfavnoirette @summerposie @sk1mah1 @queenofshinigamis @anukulee @chlmtfilms @m-riaa @p45510n4f4shi0n @malfoycassimalfoy @agoldenwoe @sapphirevaghar

[goldenxshine]

Hiii! I was wondering if you could do a modern au fic where aegon is divorcing his ex wife bc she would neglect their kids which almost resulted in the death of jaherys. But aegon soon finds reader who is his personal assistant and she is just so sweet and loving to his kids and is really the maternal figure they need in their lives and also takes care of aegon’s health and well-being. Over some time he falls for her and her for him and immediately when aegon tells the kids that they’re dating they start begging to call her mummy

₊˚.⋆⋆⁺₊✧ Finding home ₊˚.⋆⋆⁺₊✧

aegon ii targaryen x f!reader

Summary: Aegon Targaryen II, after a painful divorce, finds comfort in his assistant, Y/N, who becomes a mother figure to his children. As they start dating, the kids eagerly call her "Mommy," and with Y/N’s care, Aegon’s family begins to heal.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

Aegon Targaryen II sat in his lawyer’s office, his head in his hands. The weight of the past year bore down on him like a dragon’s flame, searing his soul.

The papers in front of him—a finalized divorce from his ex-wife, Lila—felt both like a relief and a failure. He never imagined he’d be here, fighting for custody of his children after Lila’s negligence nearly cost him their lives.

His thoughts were particularly consumed by his eldest son, Jaehaerys. It had been six months since the accident—a near-drowning at a pool party where Lila had disappeared for hours, leaving the children unattended.

Jaehaerys was still haunted by the memory, and his younger sister, Jaehaera, often woke up crying in the middle of the night.

Aegon blamed himself. He’d been too distracted, too absorbed in the world of business, too content with his own indulgences to notice how far Lila had drifted from her responsibilities as a mother.

It wasn’t until the accident that he realized how much his children needed someone who would love and protect them unconditionally.

That someone, he vowed, would never be Lila again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y/N L/N adjusted her glasses as she carried a tray of coffee into Aegon’s office.

She had worked as his personal assistant for the past year and a half, and while she initially thought the job would be all emails and schedules, she soon found herself stepping into a much more personal role.

Aegon’s life was chaos, and she had become the one constant keeping it from falling apart.

“Your 2 p.m. meeting with the board is confirmed,” Y/N said as she set the coffee on his desk. “And the kids’ school called—they need someone to chaperone the field trip next week. I put your name down just in case, but let me know if you want me to handle it.”

Aegon looked up at her, his violet eyes cold and distant, his posture slumped as though the weight of everything pressed on him all at once.

“Thanks, Y/N. I’ll take care of it. I don’t know why you’re always doing so much for me. It's just part of your job, right?”

Y/N smiled, but there was a hint of concern in her expression. “It’s not just my job to keep things running smoothly for you, Aegon. I want to help. You’re doing a lot more than you think.”

He grunted, uncomfortable with the sentiment. For the past year, Y/N had been the one person he could rely on without questioning her motives.

She had kept the household running, ensured that Jaehaerys and Jaehaera were always taken care of, and yet, Aegon never truly let himself see how much he depended on her.

He didn’t want to be vulnerable, not after everything.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y/N wasn’t sure when it happened. At first, she was just his assistant, a professional working in a chaotic, emotionally distant environment.

Aegon didn’t open up easily, and when he did, it was often shrouded in bitterness. He would show up late, distracted, often late for meetings or with his mind clearly elsewhere.

But she began noticing the small signs—the way his shoulders would relax when she offered him a cup of tea, the way he leaned into her words when she gave him advice, even how he softened around the kids.

Aegon Targaryen wasn’t a man who was used to being taken care of. His divorce had left him a hollow shell, focusing on work and ignoring the gaping hole in his life. But Y/N’s warmth and presence had a way of cutting through that coldness. It was disarming, and she couldn’t help but feel a deep sympathy for him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

One evening, after a particularly grueling day, Aegon found himself sitting on the couch with Y/N while the kids watched a movie. Jaehaerys had fallen asleep with his head on Y/N’s lap, and Jaehaera was curled up beside her, clutching her hand.

“Y/N,” Aegon said, his voice quiet, strained, but not with the usual indifference. It was as if he had to remind himself to speak. “You’ve done more for them than I ever could. I didn’t even realize how much they needed someone until I saw you with them.”

Y/N glanced up from the children, her expression softening. “They just need someone who’s there, Aegon. They’ve been through a lot.”

He met her eyes for a long moment, his face hard but somehow… softer than usual. “I’m not good at this. At any of this. I was a lousy husband, a worse father, and now… I just want to fix it. For them. For me.”

Her heart clenched. She could see the pain in his eyes, the weight of everything he’d lost, and yet he still fought for his children, still tried in the only way he knew how.

Y/N placed a gentle hand on his, but he pulled away quickly, as if startled by the intimacy.

“You don’t have to do everything alone, Aegon,” she said quietly. “You don’t have to fix everything. Sometimes, things get fixed just by being there.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Weeks passed, and Aegon began to realize how much he needed Y/N—not just in terms of work, but in his personal life. She was always there for the kids, always there for him, with a kind word, a thoughtful gesture.

She wasn’t like the others in his life, who only wanted something from him. Y/N never expected anything in return. She just gave, endlessly.

It was late one evening, when the kids were asleep, that Aegon found himself in the kitchen, his gaze lingering on Y/N.

She was rinsing dishes, humming softly to herself, and Aegon could hear the comforting rhythm of her movements. It was absurd, really. He was the future of a dynasty, but in that moment, all he could think about was how Y/N made him feel… like maybe he wasn’t so alone anymore.

He cleared his throat, and she turned toward him. “Y/N… I—” He stopped himself, his voice dropping.

“I don’t know what to say. You’ve done more than I ever could have imagined. But I… I don’t want to keep pretending that this is just business. That it’s just about the kids or the company. It’s not, and I think you know that. It’s more. I want it to be more.”

Y/N didn’t say anything at first. She simply stepped closer, her gaze steady, and placed her hand on his cheek, as though to steady him.

“You don’t have to pretend anymore, Aegon,” she whispered. “I think I’ve known for a while.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~The following weekend, Aegon decided it was time to tell the kids. As they sat around the dining table, their plates half-empty, he cleared his throat. Jaehaerys was picking at his food, his usual brooding expression on his face, while Jaehaera busied herself with her toy.

“Jaehaerys, Jaehaera,” Aegon began, his voice low but resolute, “I want to talk to you about something. Y/N and I… we’re dating.”

The kids stopped immediately, their attention snapping to him. For a long moment, there was silence, and Aegon could feel the tension rise.

Then, without missing a beat, Jaehaerys looked at Aegon with a mixture of surprise and curiosity.

“Does that mean we can call her Mommy?” Jaehaerys asked in a tone that was a little too casual, as though it was the most natural thing in the world.

Aegon froze, his heart lurching in his chest. Y/N’s eyes widened, and she looked at Aegon nervously, waiting for his response.

Jaehaera chimed in, her voice a little too enthusiastic. “Mommy!” she repeated, giggling.

Aegon’s lips twitched into a half-smile, one he rarely allowed himself to express. “If it’s okay with her,” he said, his voice a little more uncertain than he would have liked.

Y/N smiled, her eyes filling with emotion. “I would love that,” she whispered, her voice thick with sentiment. “If you’re okay with it.”

And in that moment, Aegon knew that his life had changed. For the first time in a long while, it felt like things could be… okay. Maybe even good.

He wasn’t sure where this path would lead, but with Y/N by his side, and with the kids by his side, he could finally begin to heal.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Over time, Y/N continued to prove herself as the rock Aegon had always needed. She cared for the kids with the tenderness of someone who had always been their mother, even though she wasn’t.

She helped Jaehaerys regain his trust in the world, and she encouraged Jaehaera to open up about her fears. Aegon, too, began to change. His attitude softened. He took better care of himself. He even started to show up for his kids in ways he hadn’t before, inspired by Y/N’s steadfast love and patience.

One evening, as he watched Y/N help the kids with their toys, Aegon realized he had found something precious. Not just love, but a family. His heart swelled with a quiet pride, knowing he had found a partner who could be the mother his children needed. And for once, Aegon Targaryen didn’t feel alone.

Because in Y/N, he had found not just a companion, but a home.

[ladythornofrivia]

Mr. Targaryen Will See You Now || (PT. 2)

Modern!Aemond x Reader (four parts)

warnings: (for the future chapters): sex, oral sex, loss of virginity, squirting, stalking, obsession, manipulation, reader being clueless, but not totally innocent, blackmail, p in v sex, blood kink, knife kink, gun kink, handcuff kink, bdsm, masturbation, fingering, cum play, tease, mommy issues.

a/n: now you’ve all been waiting for! Part 2! this time, the reader will be as his soon-to-be secretary. i went to the studio for a photoshoot. i won’t say why, but i’ll be announcing it around next year. stay tune for part 3.

You were thinking about him.

His offer.

It was the night where the decision made you toss and turn into your bed. A one chance in a lifetime, something that will change your life and status for good. Getting a steady job meant a steady source of income and societal actions in the higher system that Aemond Targaryen is in. Meaning challengers. Rules and expectations are higher, something that you’re not easy to strive to change pace or comfort zone. It wasn’t your ideal.

The source of all things common and strivers, you weren’t exactly the type to flip the switch on exact moment. A steady job in a steady life is enough. But what Aemond’s offered you says it all.

Risky.

Practical.

Stability.

Peace for bank account.

A high life devoid of privacy and self-recollection. A highly paced environment will not stop their time for you. You’re a slow turtle.

Your friend teased about how Aemond went stuck in your head. It wasn’t fair, at all. It wasn’t like Aemond ambushed you to say yes, but told you to contemplate of his proposal. How his gleaming violet hues pierced into your soul, begging and demanding all at once. The duality was simple enough for you to understand what kind of man he is.

A perfectionist.

Fumbling your mechanical pencil over and over as you studied the notes on your papers, stack after stack, followed by several energy drinks and stained coffee cups all over a once tidy desk. Horrifying as it sounds, you wished for a proper solution for a distraction to settle down permanently. Your friend hasn’t teased you for days, thank god for that, but you needed a second opinion.

But you didn’t want to call your parents because you chose to sever ties with them, not that anyone needs to know the detail, so you tried improvising a solution other than your friend or anyone else you know. You searched on Google, typing:

“How to make a right decision when some hot guy offered you a high-salary job?”, “How to relax after getting offered a job by a hot CEO?” “How to relax and forget for today after days of thinking about the CEO’s offer?”, “How to sleep properly after trying to distract yourself for days after the amount of torturous hours of endless teasing from a friend and a flashback?”

So far no answer came, just the ones where people often complain on the blog on how bosses are viciously toxic, others posted recordings of the bosses that eventually got fired, both boss and ex-worker. Some co-workers fucked the CEO all the way to the top, and others disposed others by any means necessary in a way of safety net.

Your head was reeling with ache and burn, as if someone crushed your skull and penetrated to a point where the pulse tightened, ready to implode. Spine landed back of your office chair, your head thrown back, mouth parted open and tired eyes closed, needing cold air. The break you took was finding your usual posture slouching and limping, as if you were floating in water. Your arms and back were shivering, and it felt good.

You hated wearing a damn big sweater. You thrashed, screamed for a short second, arms stretched and flung, hair tossed and turned, scrunchie loosened up. Then you were still, back to a limp form on a chair, not sitting like a proper lady with legs spread.

Staring at the white ceiling, you grumbled, “I can’t take this anymore.”

Maybe I should relax for now…too much caffeinated drinks doesn’t serve me enough purpose to stay focus on my final exams. Maybe a hottest shower would do the trick and forget my exams for now. And for tomorrow. Get a massage, and be naked for the night.

Thus, you stood up and left.

The phone rang.

Inwardly groaning, you read the number on your screen.

Unknown.

Eh, I’ll call in for the night.

Clicked your phone to silence, and hopped in naked into the shower. Or a bath that will make you fall asleep naked until the morning.

~~~

The phone rang three days later.

You fell asleep, not being as productive, laziness can be good once in a while.

But who the hell would try to call you first thing in the morning without a fresh cup of matcha latte as a today’s starter?

Yawning and stretching your limbs, cracking your spine, you did the best of your ability to be awake in the system. Relaxing and—

Shit.

I have 30 missed calls!!!!!

Who the hell keeps calling me?

It freaked you out, so you blocked the unknown caller.

A small sense of relief escaped from your parched lips. Drank a bottle of cold water to unwind the coils on your belly and went for a warm shower.

Days after break, you returned to your studies—after a long process of washing and scrubbing the mugs, thrown trashes of empty cans by the kitchen, and wiped surfaces on your desk. As a slow perfectionist, like art, it takes perfection. Not a crease or stain to see in plain sight. For the whole morning, with amount of lavender spray in the bedroom and replacement of new bedsheets from your sweat stain, and carpet vacuumed, everything must feel light and right. According to the website, changing bedsheets for every week. Not two weeks or three. Bacteria infested god knows what, you hated the idea of being sick. Even when sick, you still clean, but your friend insisted she’ll do the chores done in an instant, but you knew that your friend is efficient in her job, but she’s no expert with chores.

Lavender scent carried off on a cold air, you slumped back on the desk, starting over with a writing assignment from one class, chugging on a matcha latte, your phone vibrated.

An unknown number.

Again.

This time, you answered.

What could possibly go wrong?

Miss (Y/N).

“Hello,” you said, pausing. “Who’s this?”

“Have you thought about my offer?”

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand—you must have the wrong number.”

“You are wasting the benefit of my time and success, Miss (Y/N).”

Your spit choked back. “Sir—Mr. Targaryen. Yes, hello! How may I assist you?”

“Have you come to an important decision?”

“I’m sorry, sir. I’m still studying for my exams. I haven’t been able to sleep properly for days. I…” you paused again, treading the words wisely. “This is something I can’t miss. I have to graduate.”

You heard him sigh.

“There are no excuses, Miss (Y/N). It’s now or never.”

This time, you sighed, foot tapping in an uneven beat, boisterous and clumsy.

“I’ll give you another day to reconsider. But if you don’t answer my call, I’ll pass this offer to someone who will be more sufficient and quick in my service than you’ll ever be. I don’t think you’ll have what it takes to be in my company.”

Your heart leapt.

You bent forward, suspense caving in. “Ah, no, that’s not what I meant, sir—”

“I don’t think so. Not with your late response. I like my staff members to be as punctual, strictly on time. I could only excuse this once to those who are abnormally late. Anyone who shows up with punctuality meant they’ve got what it takes to be more potential regarding to future promotions.”

“I—First of all, how did you get this number?”

“We’ll meet again tonight around 9. Don’t silence your phone.”

And hang up without a second thought.

“What a fucking jackass,” you stated, and with anger rising, you took out on the scrubbing and dusting off furniture.

~~~

Hours later, you anticipated for the phone call, since you’ve done all the studying and cleaning without a hassle on being cranky—not a person disrupted you since your friend went out the whole day to god knows what she’s doing. Results concluded that a proper, lazy rest for three days has been helpful to late cranky hours.

Plopping on a couch with blank television staring back at your tired posture, you weren’t in the mood to watch romance or comedy, especially those characters who are acting like jerks at the first part. Maybe as a kid, you hated bad boys, when as a teen, you loved—you’re a die hard fan of bad boys, thanks to young adult romance novels. But as a grown woman, you’re unsure, but it’s clear-cut that you hated men who carried themselves in their attitude like a dumb child that’s required to be babied.

One man-child after another. It makes you think you wanted a flamethrower to burn, and eating boxes of truffles and a Starbucks drink, watching a whole building collapse to ashes.

The back of your head thumped onto the couch pillows, counting one to ten, more like counting sheep, but you knew it was a bad idea, so you ate heavy chunks of strawberry ice cream on a white ceramic bowl, thinking whether you should do a pros and cons list.

Shit, I made a total embarrassment of myself to a hot young CEO. Even when he did tell me to reconsider his proposal, there’s no way in hell he’ll promote me. Not with the plans I have, not with my delays. He’ll shoved it down on my throat by making me watch another lady settling a high score at the office, and him smirking at my direction. I had a feeling he wants me to be part of his company, it’s weird how he’s the first person—the first CEO—to beg for my existence and be part of a rescue team on his prestigious company. Almost like he’s been ready his whole life. No other CEO would do this; every CEO would think of middle class people as nobodies or a pile of trash. How did he get my number? I wish I know.

Wait, did I just say “hot”?

The phone rang, in a familiar tune.

Nearly tossing the bowl behind you, you settled on the coffee table and picked up the call.

“Miss (Y/N)?”

“Sir.”

“Have you come to make a decision?”

Good money, good pay, and peace for the bank account.

“I have.”

“Well?”

“What time should I be there for work?”

“8 AM. You’ll begin working here around 9.”

“Done.”

“I knew you’ll give in. Eventually.”

“Huh, persistent much?”

“Persistence is a good quality in a man.”

“Right.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow. Have a good night’s rest.”

“Good night.”

You hang up and screamed into the nearest pillow you find.

~~~

Months later….

It’s been forever since you were welcome into the company by the CEO himself. Long story short, you got accepted, without a process of long interview and long wait for phone calls for a confirmation. Easy does it. New office, drinking cups of coffee by the fancy coffee machine and water dispenser and a fridge with ingredients and proper food—not a TV dinner. Most are healthy quality.

But it came with a cost.

You were now under training and supervision of your new boss, who won’t stop staring at you. Clearly he was still fuming of the last interactions he attempted through your phone, labeled as Unknown.

You understood why it was an unknown number. Privacy is a top priority for someone who is known in a local news article online and on social media. Most pictures on social media were focused on the other side of his family, the only time Aemond’s shown in the pictures was blurry.

The usual routine has routine, but one remained the same. You always tied your hair to an updo with a scrunchie.

Stacking and organizing the files and binders by name and number in order, after dusting off of his shelf and toss the useless files on a shredder machine. Whirring on the machine has gotten louder, but didn’t ease your anxiety from his ever watchful eyes. His nose somewhat flaring, and his hands kept opening and closing, attempting to stay tranquil by touching the fabric on his pants, sometimes the items on his large desk.

Aemond kept staring at you for as long as he could and you found yourself at a most vulnerable position. Everything was a mess, but thankfully all of his files are on his computer, including your laptop and Bluetooth headset and ergonomic pens, solely provided by the company, as you play fetch with the CEO, playing his do’s and don’t’s.

Day by day, each time you clocked into work mode, Aemond’s presence drew near. As if he was critiquing you through gaze.

“Why is Aemond staring at you? Have you done something to piss him off?” your co-worker asked.

“I had no clue. Is he always like this?”

“His face usually scowls to everyone, but he’s staring at you without blinking. Kinda freaks me out. Gives me the hibbie-jibbies.”

“Yeah, no shit,” you said in silence, knowing he has sharp ears he might fire you on the spot.

“Like he could hear us.”

“Shh! Would you keep it down!?”

“Anyway, I have to go. Oh, and, Mr. Targaryen wants to see you.”

The thing was, he always wanted to see you.

The past conversation went away as you tried to focus on the present.

Turning back again, and gathered the files Aemond needed for the next appointment. He didn’t need to go at the meeting. If he simply wanted to go, he would, but everything is convenient with advanced technology, online meetings have been a thing for today’s world. If he does want to show up at a mundane event, he would’ve done in a flash, and all eyes would be on him.

“Here are the papers that you requested, sir,” you uttered, low lashes fluttered towards him, hoping to release you from his sky-high office.

“This should be easy to handle with the indulgences of the client I’m working with. Awful man needs to be settled immediately.”

He flicked his wrist.

The screen on his computer brightened with an annoying tune. And deep, distorted voice on the other side of the screen.

You could only offer a short nod, not knowing what he meant. So you bowed and exited.

Finally free.

Without the dark hours, you were the only one left, aside from a janitor and couple security guards roaming the building to dismiss anyone who’s still resided at the office. The office hours are usually closed at 7:30 PM. But for this month, the boss’s notified the staff that they’re off around 5 PM. Aemond’s had been testing the work hours, based on New Zealand with a total of 6 hours of work instead of a regular 9-5. But not for the CEO.

There’s no rest for the wicked.

Finally, at the coffee lounge and a cafeteria, the last member of the cooking staff gave you two packs of cherry cheese danish and an empty cup for a caramelized coffee by the coffee machine standing nearby. You haven’t ate since the moment you stepped in at work. You were in the rush. Stomach twisted in pain now loosened from a good chunk of appetite stuffed into the mouth.

Sat by the ceramic bench, you hummed in delight, feeling like a warm hug, with a touch of caramelized coffee with cream powder. You haven’t had a good break since you were stuck in the room with him. A good coffee weighs the heaviness on your shoulders.

Suffocating.

With that, you emptied the food in your stomach and threw the cup and brown packets in the trash bin, and leaving the tray on top, striding forward to head back and grab your belongings and call it for tonight.

With a quiet office, all surrounded by sturdy walls and soundproof glass, you managed to relax, determined to go home.

The door shut in.

You turned and spotted Aemond locking the door.

“Sir,” you uttered, in question.

Without warning, he pinned you down on desk with a knife close to your face, the pointed end nearly touching your eye.

You screamed, but silenced you with a kiss.

Your first kiss.

“Don’t say a word,” he snarled.

And with the knife he held against your face, his hot breath tickled your face.

“You wouldn’t want to say a word to anyone, would you?”

Frightened, you shook your head. Laying still as if you’re trying to please him in a way to leave you alone.

He hadn’t inched away; knife on his hand slithered its tip across your skin, leaving your staggered, breath held captive, watching his blank and unsteady focus drinking it all in. The knife pinched your skin; Aemond slashed the black stockings in one swoop. Then, his knife went his way inside the ripped skirt he torn off, your pink thongs displayed before him.

You wanted to kick him, but he made sure to keep you still.

Rip!

The panties torn apart cleanly, your wet cunt displayed. It was a nightmare. Blush fell onto your cheeks as you watched him knelt down, still pinning you down, he licked your parted folds, lapped his warm tongue in three deep strokes.

By then, your cunt squirted shortly.

And he found it amusing.

“Be a good secretary,” he said, and plunged the hilt of the knife inside you.

Your moans escaped but Aemond kissed your lips, you could taste yourself in his lips, still in shock and denial that your lips could barely move.

Terror flooded within you; his hand bloodied as he inserted the knife’s hilt inside, urging your desperate, clinging cunt, growing warmer, tighter, coiled to a tight flex, oozing and flowing. You never had proper sex.

The knife has taken your virginity.

“Stop~” you uttered breath ragged breaths, nearly bucking your hips, cunt yearning.

Aemond denied, attempted to go faster, and the dark hilt of the knife pinched your walls right. The flush of hot squirt splashed on his uniform, even yours. Humiliating as it was, at least you’re somewhat thankful that it wasn’t his cock.

How long has he wanted this?

“Sir, please stop—”

“I will stop when I wanted to stop, Miss (Y/N). You’re going to love this. Whether you like it or not.” He unzipped his pants with one hand while his other pinned your hands above your head and stroke himself in front of your exhausted state. You couldn’t object anymore. His climax is about to reach, and his hot cum exploded, splashing everywhere on your skin. Even your face. His ragged breath overtook the silence, and left you defenseless. Letting your wrists go.

Everything was hot inside your private office.

“Fuck,” he moaned, eyes closed.

It felt right for him.

Seeing you all bruised and bloodied up. The hilt of the knife he held on his bloody hand—from the gripping the sharp end—it was a mix of your cum and blood, from tightening its grip.

Then he zipped his pants up, and left you cold on the table, saying, “Make sure no one sees you, Miss (Y/N). And if you mention this to anyone, I’ll kill you.”

His hand yanked the scrunchie out of your hair, some hair stands plucked, leaving your lips a soft yelp.

Then the door slammed shut.

Hollow. And emptiness.

Only your cries filled the stained and wrecked office, wondering how it went wrong, wondering how you can still breathe. The scars on your thigh wasn’t deep, but needs medicine and a clean shower, and a long rest. From there, you contemplate without hesitation. Your heart ached from shock and distress, a feeling where you wanted to throw up all the good food you ate earlier, but it was no use.

Perhaps you made a mistake on taking his offer.

~~~

As for Aemond, it was the first part of his plan. The red bruises on your wrist and absolution on your skin, laced in dark and wet crimson, from a torn underwear and stockings, the rush stirred in his veins and heart. And thus, more games he plans to pursue, seeing if you could withstand and beyond.

Somewhere in his head, the voice came in again. He wanted it to go away. The blood on his hand went cold, stinging from gripping the blade so tightly when he forced the hilt inside her warmth.

In the midst of stopping, he snapped his neck. In anger, he didn’t want to hear that voice again.

It’s about damn time he found a new toy to play with.

With a scrunchie he confiscated from you, yanked it away, as he went to the nearest elevator, reaching to his office, rushing to his chair to undo his pants once more and wrapped your scrunchy in several movements, until he became undone with his pleasure. He didn’t care of his staff coming in. But nobody entered. The staff went home and no one could hear Aemond’s throaty pleasure emanating.

The fainted smell of flowers on the scrunchy and his cum and blood from his injured right hand intertwined, as he sniffed it.

Divine and innocence.

Just the way he liked it.

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⭑ Family Secrets ⭑

Masterlist

A/N: (s)creaming-

Request: No

Pairing: Perv!Aemond x Niece!reader

Warnings: NFSW, +18 mdni, male mastrubation, aemond fr being a nasty perv be warned no but like fr, female mastrubation/pillow humping, making out, dirty talk in high valyrian, p in v sex and creampie.

Summary: Aemond finds it hard to control his sick desires for his niece and can't help but play with her.

Word count: 5k

The sea waves crashed against the side of the large Targaryen fleet, nerves flowed through you at every shake of the wooden planks. Usually a voyage on the sea didn’t scare you in any way but the windy and stormy morning made it a lot less pleasant. Your brothers however didn’t seem to mind, the clinging of their swords ringing through the air.

They loved to practise whenever they could, and if you didn’t feel so unnerved by the weather you would’ve joined them. You were glad to see one of the servants coming towards you with a flagon of wine. Raising your cup she swiftly filled it with the red liquid. Sipping on the strong dornish wine, you tried to focus on anything but the assault of the waves.

The dragon calls could be heard above, Caraxes, Syrax, your own dragon, Vermax and Arrax soared along the ship. The walls shielded you from the sight of them though. The amber glow from the candles filled the darkened royal cabin, secluded on the quarterdeck of the ship. 

The dark clouds shielded the sun from shining its warmth on the waves of the sea and so even on the ship it was quite chilly. But nothing ran a shiver up your spine more than your family's return to King’s Landing. You didn’t understand the need for it but you didn’t have the nerve to tell your mother that.

The future queen was filled with dread herself, you noticed. Word had reached Dragon Stone from Alicent that King Viserys was in a bad condition and even though they had their differences, she felt like a reunion between father and daughter would do her husband some good.

And so the morning after the raven arrived, you had set sail. You wondered how your family was doing, but with the likely chances of this whole visit ending badly, you wished you could only wonder. But there was no turning back now as you looked out the small window and The Red Keep came into view.

And so it was only about half an hour later when your weakened legs stepped onto the shores of King’s Landing, a coach and some members of the King’s Guard waiting for you. Following your mother and Daemon, with your brothers behind you, a hand reached out to help you inside.

The rattling coach did not help calm you as you anticipated the whole ordeal, your mother spoke softly with Daemon about sending for maester Gerardys and your brothers both silently stared out the window. Everybody was tense, the unspoken past lingered in the air. It was only six years ago that your sweet younger brother Luke, took Aemond’s eye. 

Even though a little boy like him had no idea what he had done, it was still a grave wound that cut the family in half. What only made the situation worse was the bullying Aegon had led, making it seem like Luke had done it on purpose. Your uncle and yourself were never necessarily friends either, but at the least friendly with each other.

But who could blame him for hating all of you from that moment on? No one. It was only fueled by Alicent as well, her own spite for her step-daughter and her bastards burning inside her. Alas after all these years, you would have to face each other again. 

After what seemed ages you finally arrived within the courtyard of The Red Keep, the door of the coach opened and your mother stepped out as a shrill voice announced her, Daemon followed and so did you and your brothers. There, only a few paces in front of the coach were Alicent, Aegon, Aemond, Helaena, Otto and three of the small council members. 

Your mother went first to greet them, Daemon by her side, hand on the hilt of his sword. Dragons could be heard and seen flying in circles above you, it gave you comfort that your own dragon was close, if something were to happen. You took a deep breath and followed with your brothers to greet Alicent, Otto and your uncles and aunt. It was awkward enough and thank the gods over quickly.

When you were led inside, nostalgia was the last thing you felt as you peered over your mother’s shoulder. All the Targaryen heraldry had been replaced, all with stars of the faith of the seven. You knew Alicent was quite religious but never had you thought she would dare such an insult. 

You could already hear the grumbles of Daemon in front of you, and you shared a look with Jace and Luke. You were all led to a more familiar place, the dining hall where you would share some food together at the start of the afternoon. You were glad when your place was between your brothers, it felt safer. A buffer of sorts. 

Servants filed in with various fruits, wines, breads and spreads for you to indulge in and it became a little less tense when there was some food to chew on. Since you had grown quite the appetite from the horrendous voyage here, you gathered some of your favourites on your plate and shared some quiet conversation with Jace and Luke.

It was better to keep them distracted and apart from Aemond, who sat at the other end. After a while, Alicent rose from her seat, cup in hand. “I wish to give a toast, to the Princess Rhaenyra. The circumstances of which we have gathered here are grim, but nevertheless it is a pleasure to receive you, and your family. To the princess.” She uttered, a bit too appropriate. 

Everyone raised their cups and took a sip, it was all very stale and tense. But you could tell that especially Aegon and Aemond tried to keep as quiet and ‘nice’ as possible. Helaena seemed almost out of it and Otto kept to himself. It was just Alicent who engaged in some polite conversation with your mother and Daemon, but always about the king.

It was quite dreadful, but when everyone seemed finished, the children were excused to explore their old home and get accustomed again, while the adults went to pay a visit to the king. Your heart rose when you realised there would only be guards around to keep an eye on you and your brothers.

Your mother and most importantly Daemon wouldn’t be able to defend you now, if anything happened. Both of your brothers joined your side as you strolled through the halls of the Red Keep. “Luke, I probably don’t have to say this but still, just- watch your back. He probably won’t try anything but I saw the way he looked at us, at you.” You whispered to your right. You noticed the way Luke’s shoulders tensed but he simply nodded. 

“Will you join us in the training yard?” Jace asked, a bit too chirpy. “Maybe I’ll visit you later, I need some air in the gardens, at least I can be certain I won’t bump into our uncles there.” He gave you a soft smile and then took off with Luke to the yard beyond the doors, two guards following them outside.

“Shall I escort you princess?” Ser Erryk asked, joining your side. “Has my mother asked you to keep an eye on me Ser?” He gave you an awkward smile. “Yes princess,” his next words fell to a whisper, “it would be safer.” You only gave him a nod and he stepped back a pace, making sure you still had your own space.

When you stepped outside, the sun had finally made an appearance. A quiet sigh left your lips and the smell of flowers and various plants filled your nose. It was almost the only place left untouched by Alicent and her stars. You strolled through the gardens, took in all the flowers and birds. Even the beautiful butterflies that were almost magically flying around.

A while later you stumbled across a bright ladybug resting on the leaf of a bush. You admired it for a while, having no idea someone was also admiring you... 

Aemond’s POV

He was quite grateful the strong bastards kept to themselves. As soon as he had entered the training yard, in search of Criston Cole, the both of them left as soon as they caught sight of the common louts admiring the training weapons. Only a brief look was shared and Cole joined him to turn back inside. 

“It is an insult to us, their presence alone. I can come to terms with the fact they live in my ancestors castle far away from us, but them being here now-” Aemond got cut off by Cole. “It is repulsive, them being here. But the best we can do is keep our distance, only look in their direction or even speak to them when absolutely necessary.” 

Aemond nodded, “Fucking mongrels, the girl is lucky to have silver hair or they would have her head the second her arse sat on the throne. But who knows, after my sister is dead, what will become of my niece?” He smirked, before turning towards his own chambers. His only place of safety and solitude.

Only he got distracted when he passed a window that overlooked the gardens. There she was, the lucky girl. To Aemond’s displeasure, she looked almost ethereal. The now softened wind breezing through her long silver curls, the sun making her hair almost glow. Her purple eyes inspecting a nearby bug or butterfly he would imagine. 

What made his mouth turn even more sour was where his eye almost naturally shifted to. Her body. She had rather matured and was only two years younger than him, her body now...more grown. Beautiful hips, tits that bulged slightly out of the top of her bodice. Long fingers adorned with rings, a necklace resting on her chest. 

He scolded himself for even stopping in his tracks in the first place. Her Valyrian features linger in his mind as he resumes to his chambers. Once there he tried to distract himself with some studying. He could hardly focus on the words, when her tits kept reappearing in his mind. Then it only got worse, his mind drifted off while he sat at his desk. 

Cock swelling alive at the thought of ripping that gown off her, her nipples would harden through her shift because of the breeze, her curves on better display through her smallclothes. But he would rip that off too, display her nakedness for all to see. Then he would get her on her knees, mouth open, tongue out and ready for him.

His cock was now pulsing, the outline of it extremely visible through his pants. He swiftly undid them and already found that precum stained his breeches. He palmed his cock and hissed at the sensitivity, he loved to wait a longer period between pleasuring himself, knowing that the sensation would be far better.

Even though he wanted to wait just one more day, he couldn’t help himself; he was way too aroused. He started to softly tug the skin over the head of his cock, face contorted in pleasure, a grunt left his lips. Fuck it felt good. He didn’t care what anyone would think, all that filled his mind was his pretty little niece.

Seven hells, the way she would gag and tear up around his cock as he fucked his cock in her mouth. Not giving a shit that they’d be out in public, gods she would probably touch herself too, the little whore she is. He could imagine it all too well, the way her tongue would glide over his sensitive skin. Would she know to lick his slit? Suck on his balls to give him even more pleasure? Even if she did not, he would teach her, corrupt her.

He could feel himself get closer and closer, tugging on his cock faster, his loud breathing filled his chambers, his groans bouncing off the walls. He moved his free hand to massage his stones, a whine leaving his lips at the added stimulation. Imagining it was her. With only a couple more tugs and firmer fondles on his balls, ropes of cum painted his thighs, hands and some on the cold stone floor.

He jerked himself a bit more, to fully empty his satiated balls until he got too sensitive, before fetching a rag to clean his hands and the floor up. Opting for a change of pants either way. Then an idea came to his mind, a sick and disgusting idea. He grabbed his cum covered pants and rolled them up to disguise the item.

He knew exactly what chamber she resided in, it was one of the chambers that was connected to the secluded and utmost secretive halls that Maegor created. And so he moved one of the books in the library, almost no one remained in the halls as it was already close to supper so he had free reign. 

The book allowed for a door to open, hidden as just another bookshelf and Aemond stepped inside, even just the thought of what he was about to do made excitement fill his chest. He used the torch he fetched off one off the walls in the hallways to navigate the dark secret corridors. 

His cum soiled pants still clutched tightly in his hands as he let the flame guide him, soon enough he was certain he had reached the right wall. He opened the small wooden door and entered a small and short hallway, a wooden screen blocking his way, but he discovered he could open it slightly and peer inside, only to be met with a thinner tapestry. 

And pleasantly sensed he could see through the fabric art that hung inside her chamber, and as if the gods had willed it so, she was still out. Her bed was on the opposite side of the room and his mind only filled with more perverted ideas as he realised he could watch her here at night. A new pastime he could enjoy, and she would have no idea.

Placing the torch in an empty holder in the small hallway. He moved the screen and tapestry to the side and strolled over to her bed. He could feel his cock swell alive again as he placed his pants on her bed, not fully spreading it out yet. He wanted to watch her unfold them, and question what the stickiness on it was.

Satisfied with his work, he was certain she must return soon to freshen up before supper. He knew ladies always did. So he left her chambers and waited for her behind the slightly ajar wooden screen, making sure the tapestry covered it again. His perfect little hiding spot. It seemed as if hours passed yet it was only about twenty minutes when the door opened and she entered.

Your POV

“Would you need the help of a handmaiden, your grace?” Ser Erryk politely asked. You shook your head, “That won’t be necessary, thank you. I’ll be quick.” He nodded curtly and closed the door of your chamber behind you. You walked over to the vanity against the wall and found that your household had already unpacked your jewelry, you wanted to change your earrings and necklace for a nicer pair and then would head right to supper. 

When you had finished changing them out, you felt a weird sensation. You peered around the room but of course no one was there, right? You blamed the long morning for your weird feelings but then spotted something on your bed. Has one of the servants readied something for you? You walked over to your bed to find out what it was.

It was a black fabric, leather, and looked like what seemed to be pants. Your face twisted in confusion and grabbed it to unfold them and confirm your suspicion. Further confusion washed over your face as the pants were not only for men but they were dirty. Was this some twisted joke? 

You quickly let go of it and it fell to the floor, you thought of fetching a maid to get it out but then thought against it. What if they thought you had a man in here and your innocence was ruined? It was too big a risk, then your eyes shifted to the fireplace. Filled with disgust you grabbed the leather pants by the end of the leg and dragged it to the flames, throwing in the pants.

The room filled with an uncomfortable smell of the charring leather and you hurriedly went outside, Ser Erryk trailing behind you as you made your way to the dining hall.

Aemond’s POV

His hand undid the laces of his pants as he watched you eye the black material with caution. Palming his cock as you now dropped it to the floor with disgust. His lips fell agape as he tugged on his cock, feeling more aroused and sensitive than ever before. Fuck it felt even better then the very first time he mastrubated. 

He felt his release near when you had thrown the soiled pants in the fire, the smell of burning leather somehow turning him on even more. He stifled his groans with his mouth as he jerked himself to release, his cum painted the floor and his hand, as he was careful not to stain his clean pants this time. 

He cleaned his hand up with his own mouth and left the floor for what it was. He moved his now soft cock back in his breeches. Lacing his pants up again, he started his walk to one of the hallways of the Red Keep, he kept his ear to the unassuming door and heard nothing. He found the small servants hallway empty and quickly made his way to the dining hall.

Your POV

Heads raised as Aemond walked in, a soft satisfied smile on his face. “You're late.” Otto spoke. “I had matters to attend to.” He replied coldly before taking his seat. You avoided his gaze as you could feel it on you and continued picking at the rabbit meat before you. The sticky pants had never left your mind.

Supper was not so much different from your shared meal earlier, still polite conversations and the table almost split in half. But this time your eyes kept glancing back at Aemond. Why was he so content all of a sudden? Maybe he just had a good training in the yard with Cole, as you heard they spent a lot of time training together.

You decide to ignore it and finish the remainder of your meal, before long you were excused once again, and this time decided to head straight to your chambers. A bath and a good book afterwards would calm you. And so it did, after a nice hot bath and slipping into a fresh clean nightgown, you had read a bit of your new found book and lulled into a deep sleep, but still Aemond’s eye felt like it never left you.

The following days were filled with garden visits, sowing work with Helaena and some other ladies of court and avoiding your 'green' family at all costs. But much to your surprise it seemed Alicent and your mother got along pretty well, which could only be bad for you. 

Happy memories of King’s Landing never left your mind at the cold and stormy island of Dragon Stone, but now you missed it and you missed your dragon. So on the fourth day after your arrival, you headed to the dragonpit along with Jace and Luke. You felt like you could stay on dragonback forever, with your brothers flying close to you but the sun was setting and it was time to head back.

After a meal shared with just your brothers as the three of you were too late for supper, you found yourself back in your chambers. But not without some entertainment, one of the ladies of court was a pleasant company, and you felt relief wash over you as her laughter and humorous jokes fell on your ears. 

You were the same age and shared similar personalities, her father was a member of the small council and so she had the pleasure of the Red Keep’s walls protecting her, as well as learning all the gossip and the secrets, which she gladly shares with you. And so she shared all she knew, of how horrible a marriage Helaena and Aegon had, how their children were so unhappy and of putting. 

But then she said something that really caught your attention. “I heard one of the maids the other day, she said she was certain she could hear prince Aemond, well- how do I put this, having… fun? With himself? If you catch my meaning.” She giggled. Your mouth fell open and a loud laugh left you. 

“I do catch your meaning!” You laughed, she couldn’t help but laugh too. You couldn’t believe it, you never knew men did that too. Your knowledge went as far as that they used whores when they had urges. You thought only women did it, since many men didn’t care about women’s pleasure. 

She filled you in on much and more, about how many were certain Aegon has a thing for unflowering maidens and how Larys Clubfoot had an obsession with feet. Much to your dismay, it had grown late and she sadly had to go to her own chambers. As you said your goodbyes, you couldn’t help but feel it again. Like someone was watching you. 

You shook off the feeling and called for your handmaiden to ready you for bed. She took down your hair from your beautiful braids that day, helped you undress and bathe. Then she waved your hair in a single braid and helped you into your nightgown. When she left, you slipped into bed, however tonight, sleep could not find you.

You went over the day, as you usually did when you couldn’t sleep. But your mind kept hanging on to what your new friend said, Aemond pleasuring himself. You tried to think back on your flight today but you couldn’t help it. Why was the thought so erotic to you? You shouldn’t think about your uncle this way but still, your hand snaked down between your thighs.

Your cunt throbbed with desire, and you lifted your ass a bit to lift up your nightgown, as it was a hotter day, you had nothing underneath. Your fingers caressed your folds and you couldn’t help the whimper falling from your lips. But it wasn’t enough, you craved more. Then something occurred to you, you shoved the blankets off you and grabbed your pillow. 

You knelt on the bed and placed the pillow between your thighs, nerves flowing through you as well as excitement. When you thought the pillow was well placed on the long side of it, you sank down on it and leaned forward a bit. When you felt the position was good, you experimentally grinded your clit against it.

An uncontrollable moan left your lips and you hoped Ser Erryk hadn’t heard anything, you stilled for a moment but nothing happened, so you resumed. You rolled your hips against the pillow again and you allowed for soft whines to leave your lips. The rough but soft enough fabric against your clit had your mind dazed.

You humped the pillow like a bunny in heat, your clit getting the perfect stimulation from your pillow. Soft moans left you as you chased your release and you couldn’t help but imagine your dear uncle. So you let it consume you and let your desire for him flow through you. It made you burn with arousal and you imagined you were humping his lap instead. 

It didn’t take long for your peak to overcome you, and you frantically humped the pillow as you were near. The bed creaked with your wild movements and you couldn’t help but moan his name, you were so so close. With a louder whine of ‘Aemond, I’m cumming uncle!’ Your orgasm exploded and your thighs clenched the pillow between them hard. And with a few more grinds, you let yourself fall to your side, mind completely fogged and in bliss.

Then a loud scratch of wood on stone, pulled you out of your daze. You gasped and quickly pulled your blankets over yourself to cover your nakedness. Your eyes were met with Aemond’s single one as he emerged from behind the screen, he walked over to the foot of your bed.

“W-what are you doing here? Get out, at once, get out.” You stammered. But he just smiled. “Is that what you wish? I could give you far more pleasure than your pillow ever could niece.” Your face fell at his words and you held your breath as he came over to the side of your bed. “I heard what you and your little friend talked about, and I bet that it turned you on, didn’t it.” 

It was hard to deny since you just came with his name on your lips but you couldn’t speak. Frozen in shock. “Hm. Don’t worry, I think about you too, when I’m having fun with myself.” He smiled. Realisation dawned on your face. “The pants.” Aemond grinned. “A little gift from me, did you like it?”

You couldn’t help but feel wet at the thought that they were from him, but you quickly reprimanded yourself. It was wrong, not only him being here but everything about this was wrong. “Oh come on, you moaned my name so sweetly just now. Don’t you want your Kepus to actually pleasure you?” You could only shake your head. 

“Aemond- no, no it’s wrong. We can’t.” He chuckled in response. “Are we going to ignore that your mother is married to her uncle? So how is it wrong? You are mine. And I will have you.” He then raised his knee and climbed on your bed, but you made no move to run from him. Too excited to see what he would do next. “I see you are staying put, you can say no all you want, but I know how much you want me, as much as I want you.” 

“Ivestragon nyke, gaomagon ao gīmigon īlva muña ēngos?” Tell me, do you know our mother tongue? You nodded, “Gaoman Kepus.” I do uncle. “Sȳz riña.” Good girl. Aemond smiled. Then his hand moved to the edge of your blanket which you were still using to cover yourself. He pulled it off you and let his eye roam over your naked form.

“Fuck.” He whispered, he was already wet in his pants due to the amount of precum that leaked out of him at the sight of your humping, but now he couldn’t wait. “Gaomagon ao pendagon kostā gūrogon nyke? Kostagon mazemā aōha Kepus?” Do you think you can take me? Can you take your uncle? You knew the weight of his words but desire and lust clouded your senses, your will to refuse.

“Kessa, Nyke jorrāelagon ao sīr olvie Kepus.” Yes, I need you so much uncle. He hurriedly unlaced his pants at your words and took his cock from his breeches, stroking himself at the sight of your tits. But he was a gentleman and wouldn’t treat you like a whore. So he fully undressed, and crawled on top of you. 

“Vūjigon nyke tala.” Kiss me niece. You lifted your head to meet his lips, you gave him a peck but that did not satisfy him, he pulled you back and kissed you with greed. His lips harshly moving against you, his hand then massaged your breast, making you gasp against his lips. Then his tongue invaded your mouth.

His hand moved to your cunt and he let his finger inside. He let go of your lips so that the both of you could catch your breath. “Still wet for me aren’t you, so warm and slick.” He groaned, retreating his finger to grab the base of his cock instead. “Kostilus Kepus.” Please uncle. 

He had mercy, and let the tip of his cock glide through your folds, before carefully prodding in his tip. He moved just the tip in and out of you for a while, letting you get accustomed to the new sensation. But you were never one for patience. “Sepār gūrogon nyke Kepus, gūrogon nyke. Mazverdagon nyke aōhon” Just take me uncle, take me. Make me yours. 

He shuddered at your words, and let his length fully sheath inside of you, the both of you moaning at the stretch and tightness. When he noticed you weren’t in much pain he began to move, rubbing your pearl as he thrusted up into you. You bit your lip to keep as quiet as possible, but the way you uncle was fucking you, made that quite hard.

He groaned and moaned shamelessly. The squelching of your shared juices and the creaking of your bed enveloping your chamber. Soon he sped up his movements and his balls slapped loudly against your ass. Only adding to the sensation. “Kesan mazverdagon ao ñuhon, leghagon ao, mazverdagon aōha iemny hōzigon.” I will make you mine, fill you, make your belly swell. 

You finally audibly moaned at his words and it earned you a groan from him. Your uncle was filling you up so good, who could blame you? His cock pounding into you as he rubbed your sensitive clit made you actually see stars as you squeezed your eyes shut. And for the second time tonight, you moaned his name. Your tight walls clenching around his cock making him pant louder and roll his eye back.

He didn’t stop as you came down from your peak, grinding his hips fiercely against you when he cried out your name, his warm seed filling you. He humped his high out a bit and made sure to fully empty himself. When he had calmed too, he removed his now soft cock out of you, making you wince. “Gaomagon daor zūgagon, kesā daor jikagon arlī naejot Dragon Stone.” Do not fear, you will not go back to Dragon Stone.

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

Cannibals [Chapter 7: Lightning and Rust]

A/N: Only 3 chapters left!!! 🥳❤️💙🦇

Series summary: You are his sister, his lover, his betrothed despite everyone else’s protests; you have always belonged to Aemond and believe you always will. But on the night he returns from Storm’s End with horrifying news, the trajectories of your lives are irrevocably changed. Will the war of succession make your bond permanent, or destroy the twisted and fanatical love you share?

Chapter warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), babies and parenthood, blood and violence, character deaths, I really cannot summarize this chapter you just gotta experience it, I'll pray for you 🙏

Word count: 6.8k

💙 All my writing can be found HERE! ❤️

Tagging: @themoonofthesun @chattylurker @moonfllowerr @ecstaticactus @mrs-starkgaryen, more in comments 🥰

🦇 Let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist 🦇

You’re curled up in bed with a velvet pouch of hot stones that have gone cold, bloody rags bunched between your thighs, trying desperately to sleep, and outside a storm is brewing over Blackwater Bay and bringing with it dark skies and strikes of lightning that stalk ever-closer. Through the open window, the air tasting like late-summer rain, you can hear Helaena and the maids corralling the children back into the Red Keep. They are laughing because nobody is dead yet, not even the ailing and absent King Viserys, not even doomed little Luke Strong.

Aemond lets himself into your chambers and stands over your bed, staring down at you with some combination of annoyance and concern. You have failed him. You were not where he wanted you to be. “Why weren’t you at the beach?” Playing with your niece and nephews, collecting your seashells.

“Because women are cursed.”

Aemond smiles, perhaps a bit relieved; he has his answer. “And you more than any of them, because you’re so wicked.”

“Maester Orwyle says I can’t have more milk of the poppy for two hours.”

“Then we must listen to him. It is a powerful remedy, and we cannot endanger you.” He takes off his boots and climbs into bed, lying behind you, one hand following the curve of your waist to settle on your lower belly. “I can relax the muscles. It might ease your suffering.”

Right now? “Oh no, no, you don’t want to do that,” you warn him. “It’s very messy.”

“You think I’m afraid of your blood?” Aemond says, amused. “Everything we’re built of is the same.” He lifts the hem of your silk nightgown and reaches underneath the nest of rags, sliding there in the coppery wetness as you inhale sharply, startled but not unwilling. When Aemond removes his hand, the carnage he is stained with is bright crimson but dotted with clots. Then he licks the blood from his fingers and paints his tongue red. You can’t keep the shock from your face. Aemond grins, wets his hand again, draws a heart on your left cheek just beneath your eye. You laugh and pretend to try to shove him away.

“You’re deranged, you’re a monster—”

“Let me help you,” Aemond whispers, nuzzling blood from his lips into your silver hair. “Let me take your pain away like you quiet mine.”

And you surrender to him like you always do—worn down, overpowered, intoxicated, bewitched, seduced, perhaps all at once—and as Aemond’s hand works and the gory metallic ether of blood fills both of your lungs, the cramps dissolve into nothingness and then build to desire, and you’re opening your thighs for him and the rags are whisked away, unnecessary, forgotten, and now there is blood on the bedsheets and your fingers are twisting into the pillows strewn around you, and it doesn’t feel shameful at all anymore, because what is blood if not made from the same minerals as coins and blades and ocean and ash, and what is lust if not a fire that burns the constraints of the world away?

You kiss him as you come, moaning into his bloodstained mouth, biting his lower lip, and if the careless pressure of your teeth makes him bleed then that’s just more iron and copper and steel to add to the molten sea you are marooned in, more magma, more rust. “Enough,” you gasp when the last of the waves have passed and you are emptied and too sensitive, and Aemond knows to listen. Then you reach for Aemond’s trousers, where you can see he is hard. You are abruptly and ruinously exhausted—you struggle to keep your eyes open—but it feels wrong to not take care of him in return.

It shouldn’t take long, he’s already flushed, he’s already dripping sweat—

“No need,” Aemond says, gently stopping your hands. And as you burrow into the pillows and your eyes dip closed, your skin and hair still splattered with red, he slips away silently so you can sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~

“I don’t want to leave you,” Jace says, knowing that he has to anyway. “Either of you.”

You are nursing the baby in a chair by the fireplace; you needed a change of scenery from the bed. The upholstery is pale blue velvet. The blanket the baby is swathed in is embroidered with pine trees and foxes, and far beyond your skill; Lady Caro made it. She is nearly as gifted with a needle as Helaena. On the walls of the bedchamber you share with your husband are mosaics you’ve pieced together over the past nine months here at the modest castle of Heart’s Home in a cold, remote corner of the Vale. The fractured faces look in on you like curious gazes through clear windows: Aegon, Helaena, Daeron, Jaehaera, Maelor, Mother, Criston. You aren’t any closer to them now, but you feel like you are. The world seems softer, warmer, smaller.

You smile as you ghost a fingerprint over the baby’s faint dark eyebrows. He’s half-asleep as he suckles, hushed and content and entirely helpless. He has Jace’s coloring, but something about the shape of his eyes reminds you of Aegon. “We’ll be here waiting when you get back.”

“I think he looks a lot like Luke,” Jace says, admiring the baby. He’s standing with one arm draped over the back of your chair and the flickering firelight from the hearth on his face, turning his skin from snow to sunstone. “And Joffrey. His face is rounder than mine.”

“Have you been to the Eyrie to see them since the war began?” Joffrey, Rhaena, Rhaenyra’s young white-haired sons Aegon and Viserys.

Jace shakes his head. “I never wanted to be away from you for longer than necessary. I didn’t want to risk being spotted and revealing where they’ve been hidden. And I didn’t know what to say.” About us, about our marriage, about our baby.

“You should visit them, Jace. I would visit Helaena and her children if I could.” You leave out the others intentionally; Helaena is your only sibling that Jace considers blameless. You miss Aegon and Daeron just as much, but in the solitude of your own heart—in the stillness, in the silence—you aren’t sure if you want to see Aemond again. You don’t know if he will be soft with you, or vengeful or cold, or if he has filled the void of your absence with a lover, something that you cannot think about without your stomach lurching and your skull aching, and so you put him out of your mind as much as you can and stay here with the baby instead.

Jace rests a hand on your shoulder reassuringly, then strokes your cheek. He says, meaning the baby: “We’ll have to get him his own egg.”

“I hope he won’t inherit my affliction,” you murmur somberly. “I hope he’ll have a dragon someday.” Without them, we are powerless. Without them, we aren’t real Targaryens.

“Maybe there’s something you need to do first.”

You look up at Jace, not understanding.

“I’ve spent a lot of time considering what inspires a dragon to bond to someone,” he says. And you think, feeling a fleeting stab of betrayal before you stitch the wound closed with invisible thread: Because you’ve been helping the Blacks search for riders. “It seems that each creature has their own preferences. Meleys favored women who were spirited and highly intelligent. Dreamfyre has chosen two riders, both gentle, shy, and fond of animals. Seasmoke bonded to two sons of Corlys Velaryon with similar temperaments, agreeable and charismatic, Quicksilver to a father and son who were both considered weak and died young. Caraxes seems to have an affinity for warriors.” It does not escape you that Jace neglects to mention Vhagar, as if through his silence he can make the beast and her rider vanish. “And Vermithor…” Jace offers you a small, sympathetic smile, remembering that you once wanted him. “The Bronze Fury bonds to riders who are imposing in body and ambitious in spirit. And I suspect he only likes men.”

“So it was always hopeless,” you say gloomily. You recall the miniature Vermithor that Aegon once carved for you out of oak wood. You hope that Aegon is still alive somewhere, scarred but lying in wait, always underestimated, always so much deeper than he seems, an ocean that Mother and Father mistook for a puddle, messy and marginal and inconvenient.

“I believe dragons often gravitate towards riders who are mirrors of themselves. Even Vermax, he is…” Jace considers this. “He’s proud, and he’s clever, but he’s not as formidable as he imagines himself to be.”

“Like you,” you say before you can stop to consider whether Jace will be offended by it, and he gives you an amused smirk. The baby has stopped nursing and fallen asleep; you fix the bodice of your gown and cradle him against you. There are maids to take him when you’re tired, and Jace loves holding him, and Lady Caro steals him away often, but right now you don’t want your freedom. You don’t want your mind to be untethered and to wander to all the places you’re not supposed to be.

Jace continues: “What I mean is, perhaps there is some quality you must cultivate within yourself before the beast you are meant to have judges you worthy.”

“Hardly any unclaimed dragons are left now.” Then you tease: “Do you suggest I become quiet and timid so Grey Ghost will like me?”

Jace laughs. “No, I fear that’s a lost cause, princess. You could never be timid.”

You are intrigued. “Then what am I?”

“I think you’re hungry,” Jace decides. “I think you always want more.”

“I never wanted that many things.” Aemond. My family to be safe. And I wanted Vermithor.

“Every line that is drawn, every place you’re told not to go or act you’re not supposed to do, you insist upon overreaching.”

Is that why Aemond and I were so drawn to each other? you think doubtfully. Because it was forbidden? Because it horrified people who climbed high enough to live alongside Targaryens but could never understand them?

“I think Meleys would have been a good match for you,” Jace says after a while. “If she hadn’t already been claimed by Grandmother.”

“And now the Red Queen is dead.” Like Arrax, and Moondancer, and Seasmoke, and probably Sunfyre too. How many dragons will be left when this is over? How many Targaryens? You clutch the baby closer to you; he stirs in his sleep, tiny fingers grasping at nothing. “What sort of rider does Silverwing favor? What could this illiterate drunk Ulf the White possibly have in common with Good Queen Alysanne?”

Jace snickers. “That’s a good question. I’ve been ruminating on it. My theory is that since Silverwing was never ridden into battle, and has always been relatively docile and accustomed to living peacefully near humans, she was attracted to Ulf’s…how to describe it? His lack of military prowess. Or, alternatively, once Vermithor was claimed Silverwing was very, very lonely.”

You smile, and then it dies. It must be indescribably painful to be separated from one’s mate after a century together. Unsurvivable, even. “Can Silverwing fight, do you think?”

Jace heaves a sigh and shrugs. “I’m not sure if either of them can. Ulf will try, at least. Hopefully it won’t come to that, and Vermithor is enough to protect King’s Landing. Hugh Hammer is an inexperienced rider, but he’s brave and he’s committed. Each time I see him he’s better than he was before.”

Hugh Hammer is a bastard blacksmith, but he has more power in this war than I do. Ulf the White is an idiot and a drunk, but he’s a true Targaryen and I’m not. You rock your sleeping child in your arms, quieting the voices that flutter in your skull like bat wings. You kiss his wisps of dark curls and breathe in his warmth and newness and blood that is interwoven with yours.

“You could learn how to hate your own kind and claim the Cannibal,” Jace jokes.

You chuckle. “I don’t hate anyone.” Not here, not now.

Lady Caro arrives in the doorway carrying a tray of cinnamon tea. “I have come offering a trade,” she says, grinning, and shuffles excitedly across the room. She sets the tray down on the table by your chair and holds out her hands. Reluctantly, you surrender the baby. Lady Caro coos and beams at him as you and Jace sip cinnamon tea, sweet and loosing steam like morning mist into the air. “Surely by now you’ve made the logical decision to name him in my honor.”

“Carolei would be a very strange thing to call a boy,” Jace says.

“Caroson,” she jests.

You add: “Carogon. Carocaerys.”

“Awful!” Jace says, laughing.

“Have you been feeding the baby again?” Lady Caro scolds you. “We have wetnurses for that.”

“They get him all night. I want time with him too.”

“You’re barely even producing any milk. You’d make for a terrible goat.”

“Then I’ll nurse him for as long as I can.”

“You’ll end up with pitiful floppy breasts like mine.”

“Isn’t this what they’re for? Nourishing children, not being gawked at and tugged on by some man?”

Lady Caro turns to Jace, exasperated. “She has some disease. She can’t listen to anyone.”

He smiles. “She’s an untamable beast, I’m afraid. Burns up anyone who makes the attempt.”

Lord Corbray walks in, and nestled in his ancient arthritic hands is a sword in a sheath. There is a large heart-shaped ruby in the hilt. “Prince Jacaerys, I cannot begin to tell you what an honor it has been not only to host you and the princess here in our humble castle, but also to have a future king of the Seven Kingdoms born within our walls.”

Jace stands up straighter, as his mother would want him to. He’ll never look like the heir to the throne, like a Targaryen, but he can act like one. “We continue to be grateful for your hospitality.”

“To commemorate this happy occasion, I wish to gift you a cherished heirloom of my house. This is Lady Forlorn, made of Valyrian steel. She came to House Corbray over a century ago, and now I bequeath her to you. I hope she will aid you in your victory in this unjust war, and that all the realm will soon be at peace and under competent rulership.”

Jace looks at you uneasily; you pretend to be preoccupied drinking your tea. You ignore Lord Corbray’s slight against the Greens. You don’t have much choice, and you’ve had plenty of practice. Jace takes Lady Forlorn from Lord Corbray and unsheathes her, studying his reflection in the cold smoke-colored grey of the blade. His face is grave. Now he feels the weight on his shoulders of being not just a prince, an heir, a soldier, and a husband, but a father as well, something he himself never had in a way that was truthful and pure. You are alarmed to see tears gleaming in his dark eyes.

“Jace?” you say, touching his arm.

He regains his composure. “Thank you, Lord Corbray. I will treasure Lady Forlorn, and I will endeavor to always use her wisely.”

Lord Corbray smiles fondly at the slumbering baby in Lady Caro’s arms. Across the Riverlands, their sole surviving child, Jessamyn, is in hiding with her husband and children. At Lady Caro’s insistence, they fled from the Mallisters’ castle at Seagard in case Aemond and Vhagar descend upon it. He is still burning. A monster? you think. “I assume you’ve named your firstborn?”

You and Jace exchange a glance. You haven’t yet; you are afraid to discuss it with each other. There are so many possibilities—Targaryen or Velaryon or Strong—and none seem to be without some unspoken allegiance or condemnation. There are so few guiltless names left. But you think you know what Jace would choose if he dared to speak it aloud.

“We should name him after Luke,” you say. A boy, an innocent. A victim of a horrific accident that started this war.

Jace is surprised, but there is relief in his face too. “Lucerys?” he says, trying it out. Then he is solemn again. “It feels wrong to use the exact same name. Like I’m trying to replace him.”

“Lucerion,” Lady Caro suggests, still holding the baby. “It sounds like a prince’s name. It sounds like a king’s.”

Jace attaches Lady Forlorn to his belt and then takes the baby, obviously against Lady Caro’s will. “Lucerion,” Jace murmurs, smiling down at his son who is stirring awake and beginning to whimper. “Is that your name? Is that what we’ll call you?”

“Perhaps Luca for short,” you say from your chair, feeling drained and like you need to lie down. You’ll have to change your rags again soon, or you’ll bleed through them.

“Luca, the littlest dragon,” Jace proclaims, touching his fingertip to the baby’s puggish nose. Then he turns to you. “Did you have a nickname as a child? I always did and still do, of course. And Luke…” Jace trails off, thinking of his dead brother, murdered by yours.

You see your red bat traveling around the board; you feel the warmth of blood on your cheek. “They called me Red.”

“Red?” Jace is baffled. “Like the color?”

“There was a game we played when we were young, and my piece…” You close your eyes, not wanting to remember, not wanting to feel the weight of their absence. “It doesn’t matter. It was so long ago.” And you fear that Jace will hear the evasiveness in your voice and ask you more questions; but he is absorbed with the baby, and he has already forgotten.

Two days later Jace and Vermax fly south to King’s Landing, and you and Luca are left in the care of the Corbrays and the maids and the ghosts that haunt the drafty stone corridors of Heart’s Home, soldiers killed in the Riverlands and the Reach, women and children burned and starved, bones devoured by dragons, generations of names forgotten.

Sometimes you giggle with Lady Caro as you drink cinnamon tea in the Great Hall. Sometimes you stand in the castle rookery listening to the ravens caw and stare out into the cold mist of the mountains, wondering what is happening in the world outside. And sometimes you have Luca nestled in your arms and walk with him around your bedchamber, introducing him to the faces of the people you left in your old life, when you were called Red and you believed you could be someone like Visenya. But you never mention Aemond, and not just because there are no mosaics of him on the wall.

You wouldn’t know what to say. You wouldn’t know where to begin.

~~~~~~~~~~

You learn Jace is back when he climbs into bed just as you are drifting off one night, silver moonlight spilling in through the glass of the window, his body folding into you, his arm skating over your waist to find your hand and weave his fingers through yours. Two months have passed since he left, moons that grow full and then vanish, milk that dries up and blood that ceases flowing and rebuilds inside you for the next child, if there will be one, when there will be one. Luca is sleeping in his own room with his maids and wetnurses. Jace’s curls tickle your throat as he nuzzles into you as if he wants to disappear.

He says: “The littlest dragon is much bigger than I remember.”

“How was Helaena?”

“Troubled, as is to be expected, but in good health. Jaehaera and Maelor are well too. King’s Landing is cold some days now. I think they’ll have snow soon. The taxes, the riots, the stockpiling of food as the Reach and the Riverlands burn…it’s a disaster. Mother is desperate. She misses Luke, I think. And Baela, and Daemon. She’s lost so much weight I barely recognized her. But she was very, very happy to hear about Luca. Hopefully she can meet him soon. Although we’ll have to be careful traveling with him while he’s so small, we’ll have to ensure he’s warm enough.”

Winter is coming, you think, remembering Cregan Stark’s army under the protection of Daemon and Caraxes. “Did you see Rhaena and the boys at the Eyrie?”

“I did,” Jace admits, as if it was a fraught experience.

“And what happened?”

“Rhaena called me a traitor.”

“For marrying and fathering a son with me?”

“No, that she understands,” Jace says. “But it is treason to love you.”

You turn around to look at him in the shadows, in the moonlight. “You told her?”

“She could tell. I cannot hide it. I am a glass jar and you and Luca are the butterflies inside.” And Jace kisses you softly, his fingers hooked beneath your chin, his flesh coming alive again after so long away: managing and conciliating, lifting Rhaenyra’s spirits, pawing through the heaps of bastards in King’s Landing for dragonriders, flying on Vermax through storms and snow.

When you kiss Jace back, when your hands go to his chest and his jaw and his face, when you open his tunic so you can feel the heat of his skin underneath, you are aware that parts of you are waking up again as well. There is a dull but definite ache of lust beginning to bloom like a blood drop soaking into white cotton.

“Are you…” Jace begins. “Do you think you’re healed enough, I mean…have you stopped bleeding?”

You hesitate. “I have.” You think of your first time with him and how painful it was, the sensation of burning, of tearing, and you can only assume it will be worse now. “But I’m rather terrified too.”

“No, no, don’t be afraid,” Jace whispers, he pleads, running his fingers through your long unbound hair. “We don’t have to do that. I won’t hurt you. I’ll wait for as long as you want.” His dark eyes travel down the white nightgown that clings to your body, your breasts, your belly, and then lower. “Can I…can I try something?”

“Try what?” you ask, bewildered. Then as Jace begins to push the hem of your nightgown up over your hips to your waist, you grin and kiss him again in the dim celestial light, cool night air rushing up over your bare legs, blood surging through your arteries to where he bends low to taste you once—a long, slow, tentative drag of the tongue—and then moans quietly and pushes your thighs further apart so he can bury himself there and lick, suck, swallow down your clear mineral wetness as it pools for him.

Something isn’t quite right—not enough pressure, not the ideal angle—but it’s exquisite to be reacquainted with this side of yourself, to know you can feel this way again, insatiable and desired. When you reach to touch Jace, there is a moment when you are startled to find dark curly hair in place of silk-smooth silver, and there is a ghost in the room like a voyeur watching, and you think dazedly: If Aemond knew about this, would he kill me?

“There,” you gasp, jolting as your husband stumbles upon the perfect place and rhythm. “Jace, right there…”

He listens, he is groaning with desperation for you, and you roll into a climax that is brief and sharp and a little painful, but good. Instead of being extinguished, you are a kindled flame. You turn over, straddle Jace, and unfasten his trousers. You begin kissing your way down his belly, nipping at him, your palm kneading his hardness, and you know he wants you but for some reason when you go to take him in your mouth, he pushes you away.

“You don’t have to do that,” Jace says, alarmed.

“I know. I want to.”

“No, seriously. Stop.”

You look at him, wounded, rejected. “Jace, I’m not doing this out of obligation. I enjoy it.”

He is staring at the wall. “I just…for you to…I’m sorry, it just feels wrong.”

“I can do things you believe are only for whores and still be your wife.”

“Shh,” he says, and his voice is gentle but his face is pained. You think of something Criston once told you when you were collecting bones from the Godswood of the Red Keep: Red, it hurts your mother when you’re like this. Are you cursed to disappoint people, to repulse them, to be eternally misunderstood? “I have a gift for you.”

“A gift?”

Jace gets out of bed and fetches a small wooden box he must have brought into the room with him when you were still half-asleep. He opens the box, debates whether to reach in, decides against it and passes you the whole box instead. “I asked the castle maester to procure some while I was away…”

You squeal with delight when you see what’s inside: three black and white bats the same breed as Sapphire was, large fanlike ears and wiggling noses and small black eyes that peer curiously up at you. When you offer them your open palms, they immediately scramble into them.

“I hope they’re good ones.” Jace chuckles nervously. “I don’t really know what makes a bat suitable or not.”

“They’re perfect,” you say, smiling. “I’ll build them a roost. I’ll introduce them to Luca.”

Yet you cannot stop yourself from thinking: Aemond wouldn’t have cared if I was still bleeding.

~~~~~~~~~~

You are snuggled up with Luca in your chair by the fire, cool midday light—the color of steel, smoke, rainclouds, ash—streaming in through the windows. The baby’s eyes have turned dark like Jace’s, and his curls grow longer. He is only half-awake and blinking drowsily, his diminutive hands clasping your fingers. He doesn’t cry often, but he doesn’t smile either. Lady Caro believes he already has the temperament of a good king, a calmness, a graveness. She says: How improper would it be for him to be full of complaints or cheerfulness, the way the world is right now? No, he ought to be serious. He ought to be grateful he’s not starving or being roasted alive.

“I have some new friends,” you whisper to the baby like a secret or a myth. “They’re asleep right now. They sleep all day, kind of like you do. But then at night they come alive and they’re free, and they fly around like hawks or dragons.”

You speak for Luca, a soft bird-trill of a voice: “What are their names?”

“Good question,” you say, smiling. “Iris, Shark, and Flood. And you’ll meet them soon.” Your eyes go to the mosaics on the walls. Jace hasn’t asked you to take them down, but he doesn’t acknowledge them either, except for the mosaic you made of him that hangs by the headboard of the bed. He beams at that one and calls it fine work. “You’ll meet the people I grew up with too. Aegon will make you wood carvings. Helaena will sew you blankets. Daeron will take you on adventures. Jaehaera and Maelor will play games with you. And Mother and Criston will love you because you won’t be like me. You’ll be sweet-tempered and honorable, and when you’re old enough you’ll have a dragon to help protect us with.”

There is a knock on the doorframe; one of Luca’s wetnurses has arrived to feed him. You regret that you can’t anymore. Lady Caro was right; you’d be a terrible goat or cow or yak.

“Princess,” the wetnurse says, curtsying before she takes the baby from you. You watch her leave with him for his own bedchamber—Lady Caro has already filled it with toys and children’s books—and as soon as they are out of sight, the darkness of your losses creeps back in like spiders scurrying down the corridors of your veins and arteries, like rust growing over steel. Then you hear the rumbling of voices downstairs in the Great Hall.

You stand and swish in your gown—one of the Vale’s anemic colors, a faint dusky rose—through the hallway and down the spiral staircase of the tower. In the belly of the castle, the commotion is louder, and you sweep into the Great Hall to find men gathered around the table closest to the roaring hearth, Lord Corbray and his knights and the maester, and Lady Caro too looking on anxiously. Jace is holding a piece of parchment in his hands, presumably just delivered by a raven. He shakes his head as he reads it. Outside, snow is falling.

Lady Caro is saying: “Well you’ll have to tell her. Oh, the poor dear, as if everything else isn’t bad enough. And only the gods know where Aemond is, he hasn’t been spotted in the Riverlands for days…” Then she spies you and shoos Lord Corbray and his men from the room. They bow to you as they depart, swift little bobs of the head. They have to; you are now both the wife and mother of future kings.

“Jace?” you say when the Great Hall is empty except for the two of you and Lady Caro.

Jace’s face is stricken. Lady Forlorn hangs from his belt. The letter is still clutched in his left hand; the right grips the hilt of his Valyrian steel sword. “I’m so sorry.”

“What?” you ask, immediately horrified. Aegon dead of his burns, Daeron killed in battle, Mother executed for treason, Aemond…? “What happened?”

“You have to believe that I had no idea about any of this, I never would have given Hugh the order if I’d been there, or let Mother do it—”

“Jace, please tell me.”

Aemond, Aemond, Aemond??

Instead, Jace says absurdly: “It’s Helaena.”

You stare at him. “Helaena isn’t a warrior.”

“No,” he agrees. “But she got to Dreamfyre somehow and tried to escape the city.”

“Alone?”

“Yes.”

That’s impossible. She wouldn’t leave Mother and the children. “No, she couldn’t have, she—”

“She took flight,” Jace insists. “And my mother sent Hugh Hammer after her on Vermithor.”

Vermithor was supposed to be mine, you think numbly. “And Helaena, she…she was…?”

Jace is trying to keep his voice steady; his dark eyes gleam, begging you not to hate him. “Dreamfyre attacked when Vermithor flew close to her. She wasn’t an especially aggressive dragon, but she was large and formidable, and she fought to defend her own life and that of her rider. Vermithor ripped out her throat, though Hugh was burned to death in the saddle. Then Vermithor flew eastward, and no one knows where he is now. Dreamfyre crashed to the earth, and Helaena with her. Their bodies were found on the beach outside the Red Keep.”

She can’t be dead. She never hurt anyone. She just wanted to be with her creatures and her family. She embroidered my blankets with red bats, she put ladybugs into my open palms. “Why would Helaena try to run, why would she do that?”

“I don’t know.”

You think nonsensically, as you have no way of knowing this: Because she was trying to stop something terrible from happening. “I told you to give her more freedom. And that freedom allowed her to sneak away to the Dragonpit.”

Jace reaches for you. “This isn’t your fault—”

“All of it ismy fault!” you shout at him, and Lady Caro shrinks away and covers her mouth with her hands. “If I’d had Vermithor, the Greens would have been unstoppable! And Rhaenyra never would have tried to claim the throne, and Aemond wouldn’t have been sent to Storm’s End, and Luke and Jaehaerys and Baela wouldn’t have died, and Aegon wouldn’t have been burned, and Aemond wouldn’t be destroying the Riverlands, and Helaena would still be alive, but instead I’ve always been useless!”

“You aren’t useless,” Jace pleads.

“Not normal enough to be a good wife or daughter, not extraordinary enough to have a dragon!”

Again, Jace tries to touch you, to soothe you. “Please don’t—”

You fling his hands away. “What was our marriage for if not to stop this from happening?! To end the dying, to protect the people we have left?” You whirl away from him and flee from the Great Hall, the castle, yourself. Behind you, Lady Caro is comforting Jace with soft tenderness you’ve never been capable of.

“Let her go, my prince,” she is counselling. “Give her a moment to grieve…”

You throw open the first door you pass and trudge out into the snow, no fox fur coat, bare feet. The cold stings and then your skin goes numb and it doesn’t bother you anymore. The icy mountain wind tears at your hair, flowing in long waves like the women of the Vale wear it, delicate and feminine, pretty and powerless. Tears cascade down your face; currents of red magma scorch your throat. When you close your eyes, you see the yellow butterfly that was once Helaena’s game piece.

She never hurt anyone. She never did anything wrong.

Now you are under the shadows of the soaring pine trees, their green needles so thick you cannot see the grey of the sky.

She never met Luca.

You gaze up into the branches, covered with tufts of white snow and icicles like fangs, and you have the overwhelming, ravenous feeling that you need to go home. You don’t belong in the Vale. The Vale almost killed you when you were a child, Aemond’s hands shoving you into a rushing stream freckled with ice.

And then all at once—like you’ve been hit, like you’ve been stabbed with a blade—you are flying high above the castle and the wind is raking over your cheeks, but it is not your face but Aemond’s, half-blind and half-scarred, torrential red waves of a sea of blood in his skull.

He’s here, he’s here—

And if he’s able to see through your eyes that you are outside in the forest…

The castle!!!

You bolt through the trees back towards Heart’s Home, your bare feet leaving tracks in the fresh powdery snow that is nearly up to your knees, and you stumble out of the shadows just as Vhagar soars overhead and unleashes her flames on the castle, wood burning, stones collapsing, people inside shrieking as they incinerate. You’re screaming for Aemond to stop, but he does not hear you and he does not see you either, he is high above in a place you’ve never been and never will be, he is flying, and he is hearing only devastation and he is breathing in its dark, intoxicating smoke, and as Vhagar swoops by the stable and it bursts into an inferno—horses galloping loose and engulfed in fire, dead but not knowing it yet—you run into the crumbling castle.

“Jace?!” you shout, but the air is full of smoke and the sounds of wood cracking and stones caving in are deafening. You feel blindly for the spiral staircase that leads up to the tower where your and Luca’s bedchambers are located. From the part of the castle that was once the Great Hall, you can hear Lord Corbray and Lady Caro screaming as their skin blisters and sloughs away and their flesh is cooked and their bones are charred black, and when the flames reach their lungs the screams go quiet. You cannot think about them. You don’t have any time; you must think of Luca and Jace. “Jace!” you bellow through the smoke.

And then there is a weak reply: “Here.”

You follow it into the stairwell. Parts of the wall have been blasted away; you can see the pine forest outside, the cold barren sky, the Mountains of the Moon. Jace is halfway up the steps, slumped against the fractured wall and pinned there by stones that have rained down on his legs. His bones must be broken; his face is bloodless and his curls matted to his forehead by sweat. His right hand fumbles futilely for the hilt of Lady Forlorn. Now, dimly, you can hear Luca crying.

Jace rasps as he stares vacantly up at you: “I tried to get to him. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, Jace, I can do it.”

“I love you.”

“I’ll be right back.”

You climb over him and chase Luca’s wails up the staircase. Vhagar is back, and the ruins of the castle tremble when she roars, and you feel the heat of her flames radiating up through the floor. You lose your footing and clamber up the last few steps on your hands and knees, then manage to stand again and careen into Luca’s room. Half the roof has collapsed; a wetnurse is sprawled on the floor and half-buried in fallen stones, blood hemorrhaging out of her mouth and ears. You grab the baby out of his cradle and quickly bundle him in his blanket patterned with blue dragonflies. His tiny hands grasp at your face and your hair as you rush back down the spiral staircase to help Jace. Smoke needles your eyes; you and Luca are both coughing as you try to clear your lungs.

You reach Jace and kneel beside him, holding Luca in your left arm and using your right to try to roll the stones off Jace’s legs, but he’s not helping you.

“Jace, please, we have to go now,” you say, but when you look at his face he’s not there. His dark eyes are glassy, his chest doesn’t rise and fall with the tide of air.

He’s gone, you think. Like Father, Luke, Jaehaerys, Baela, Rhaenys, Helaena. And you are struck by an excruciating pang of fondness for Jace more forceful than anything you ever felt for him when he was alive, and you cannot leave him here. He was your husband, he was Luca’s father. And he loved you. He must have. He said it over and over again.

“Jace?” you sob. But outside Vhagar is still flying—the gales churned up by her wings gust into the jagged holes in the castle walls—and she could be coming back, she could be returning to burn you, and Jace is dead but the baby is still alive.

You clutch Luca to you as he cries and you race down the steps, following the smoke-filled, twisted passageway. The heat is suffocating, the sounds of a dying castle engulfing, Heart’s Home turned into a graveyard, into a shattered skeleton, charred and cursed like Harrenhal. You crash through the door at the base of the stairwell and into the ground level of the castle, and you are almost out—

Something ignites, something explodes, and stones from the castle wall you are feeling your way along rip out of their centuries-old mortar and collide with you. Your ribs crack, you are thrown to the floor, but even as you scream and claw your way out of the rubble you don’t let go of the baby. You force yourself upright and stagger with Luca towards a gaping chasm where there was once a wall. There is a tremor like an earthquake. Outside, Vhagar must be landing.

Now you are in the snow again, bare feet and a gown covered with soot and wreckage. The baby isn’t crying anymore. When you glance down at the blanket he is swaddled in, the white space between the blue dots of dragonflies is turning red with blood.

Blood?

You can’t look. You can’t allow yourself to feel it; it will consume you until there is nothing left. The last vestiges of the castle are crumpling. Across the field, Vhagar is devouring Vermax’s small, broken corpse, crushing his bones in her massive, monstrous jaws.

Blood??

Aemond’s footsteps are behind you, crunching in the snow. His cloak cracks in the frigid wind like the sails of a ship. His words are full of dark, euphoric, lethal triumph, a high like nothing he’s ever known, not even when he claimed Vhagar, not even what he imagined he would feel on your wedding day when you’d be bound to each other with fire and blood in the tradition of Old Valyria. “I said I would find you, and I did.”

You hear your own voice as if from a very far distance, lightning strikes miles away but moving closer. “You killed him.”

Aemond is puzzled. You are supposed to be happy. You are saved, you are home. “Killed who?”

“He’s dead, and there will never be another. Not like this one. Jace was his father, but Jace is gone. You killed him too.”

And you turn to face him, and Aemond sees what you are holding in your arms, and only then does he understand.

[aeralux]

"Freak On a Leash" - Aemond Targaryen

Modern!Aemond x Reader

Summary: So what if you're fucking the weird dude? He has good dick game. But how were you supposed to know he gets attached easily?

Warnings: SMUT (18+); (pretty rough) car sex; oral (f!receiving); name calling (slut, whore etc); dark!Aemond near the end; hair pulling; choking; ass slapping; mentions of violence and blood

Words: 5.5k

Notes: No description of the reader. This was just going to be porn without a plot... but ofc I had to add some plot smh. This isn't dark dark, but it does contain some of the elements of it so... do not read it if you are not comfortable with that

𐔌 . ⋮ aera .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

He was weird, unsettling, and genuinely offputting. That's why your friends were baffled to know that you were fucking him multiple times a week, in the backseat of his car, no less. "He has good dick," you tried to tell them, saying it was worth it. But your words fell on deaf ears as none of them understood. Why him?

With long hair dyed black with a cheap store colour and a run-down 2005 Volvo S40, he didn't seem the kind of guy who could fuck a girl until her throat was raw. But you knew the truth. That's why you kept coming back, time after time.

So it was no surprise that, once again, you found yourself in his lap. In the backseat of his car, kissing and moaning, his hard cock pressing into your aching core.

"Blood?" You ask as you taste copper on your tongue when kissing his jaw. 

"Don't act like you don't find that hot," he grunted, a smug expression on his face. It's probably because whoever he fought, lost.

You smiled playfully, your lips brushing against his once more, caught in a moment where admitting he was right felt like submitting. The warmth between you grew, leaving just the two of you.

He tangled his fingers in your hair for a second before shifting his attention downward, fumbling with the delicate fabric of your flimsy top. The skin-tight shirt clung to your curves, resisting his attempts as if it had a will of its own. Frustration flickered across his face, but it was quickly replaced by determination as he continued to work his way around the stubborn material.

"Just rip it open for fuck's sake," you groan as he fumbles with your skin-tight white top. Your hips instinctively roll on top of his, ruining your cute white cotton panties with your juices.

Aemond groans deeply at your words. With a quick, decisive motion, he rips the fabric open, the sound of the tear deafening. Your black lacy bra is revealed, the delicate lace a stark contrast to his rough, calloused hands as they cup your breasts.

"Fuck, you're perfect," he growls, his thumbs rubbing over your nipples through the thin lace. "Gonna fucking wreck you."

He leans in, his hot mouth latching onto one nipple through the bra as his other hand slides down to rub your clit through your soaked panties. He groans against your skin at the wetness he finds there, the sound vibrating through you.

Oh gods, you are so fucking wet for him. You can feel your arousal soaking through the thin cotton, staining it with your desperation. You grind harder against the rigid bulge straining against his jeans, needing more friction, and more contact.

"So fucking wet for me already," he murmurs, his fingers pushing the fabric aside to delve between your folds. "Gonna make you come so hard."

You roll your hips harder against Aemond's bulge, your clit throbbing with every grind. Your skirt hangs loosely around your waist, resembling more of a belt.

"Fuck, these songs suck ass," you grumbled, reaching for Aemond's phone and scrolling through his playlists until you find something more to your liking. The change in music elicits a growl from Aemond, but you just smirk and lean in close, your lips brushing his jaw. The bass line of Rob Zombie's "Dragula" thumps through the car, a perfect complement to the nasty thoughts running through your mind.

"Okay, now you can fuck me," you giggle, your teeth grazing his skin before you soothe the sting with your tongue. You can taste the salt of his sweat, the copper tang of blood - a reminder of the fight he must have been in. Your curiosity gets the better of you.

"Who the fuck did you fight this time?" You ask, your voice low and husky with desire. But even as you speak, your focus is on the delicious friction between your legs, the way Aemond's hard length rubs against your aching core with every roll of your hips.

"Fucking some new guy, thought he could take me," Aemond growls, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise as he grinds up against you. "Taught him a lesson real quick."

He leans in, his teeth nipping at your earlobe as he speaks. "He won't be coming back anytime soon. Not after the way I shattered his ribs." His fingers dig into your hips, pulling you down harder onto his cock.

"Now, quit talking and start begging for it," he commands, his voice a low rumble in your ear. He places a few light smacks on your cheek, making you smile at the lewd actions.

You shake your head, a wide smile spreading across your face as your eyes lose focus. The depravity of the situation, the dingy car, the smell of sweat and sex, it all makes you even wetter. You can feel your arousal dripping down your thighs.

"You know I don't beg," you whisper, your lips brushing against his earlobe as you suck on it gently. Your teeth graze the sensitive skin, making him groan.

Aemond's grip on your hips tightens, his fingers digging in hard enough to leave marks. He sounds almost angry as he growls, "You'd better fucking start, or I'll stop right here."

"Fuck," you whimper as his bulge nudges against your clit, sending sparks of pleasure through your body. Your brows furrow, your eyes squeezed shut as you grind down harder, seeking more of that delicious friction.

To emphasize his point, he stills his hips, denying you the friction you crave. His other hand moves from your breast to wrap around your throat, applying just enough pressure to make you gasp.

"Please, Aemond," you moan, your voice breaking with need. "Fuck me. Use me. Make me forget everything but your cock inside me."

Aemond's eyes darken with lust at your words, a wicked grin spreading across his face. "That's more like it," he purrs, his grip on your throat relaxing just slightly. He leans in, his lips brushing against yours in a teasing kiss.

"Gonna fucking ruin you," he promises, his free hand moving down to grip your ass, fingers digging into the soft flesh. He pulls you down hard, grinding his clothed cock against your aching cunt.

"Gonna make you scream for me," he growls, his other hand moving from your throat to tangle in your hair. He yanks your head back, exposing your neck to his hungry mouth. He latches on, sucking hard enough to leave a mark, his teeth grazing your skin.

His hips are moving now, grinding up against you in a filthy rhythm. The rough denim of his jeans rubs against your sensitive clit. You can feel the heat of him through the fabric, the hard length of his cock straining against his zipper.

You moan sluttily, desperate, shameless noises filling his car. You're too far gone to care about your pride. Impatiently, you tug the cups of your bra down, exposing your hardened nipples to the cool air. They're almost painfully sensitive, aching to be sucked.

"Suck," you command, your voice low and demanding. You arch your back, offering your breasts to him like a sacrificial lamb.

Aemond's eyes darken at your demand, a wicked grin spreading across his face. "Oh, so you think you're in charge here, do you?" he growls, his hand fisting in your hair, yanking your head back.

You gasp at the sharp pain, your eyes watering. "I think you need to be put in your place, slut," he sneers, his other hand roughly palming your breast.

He leans in, his hot breath ghosting over your exposed nipple. "Beg for it," he commands, his voice low and dangerous.

You swallow hard, your pride fading due to your desperate need. "Please," you whimper, your voice small and needy. "Suck my tits, I need it so bad."

Aemond chuckles darkly, his teeth grazing your nipple. "That's more like it," he growls before his mouth envelops the sensitive bud.

You cry out, your back arching as he suckles hard, his tongue swirling around the hardened peak. The pleasure is intense, bordering on pain, and you can feel yourself getting wetter by the second.

"Fuck, that feels so good," you moan, your hand moving to the back of his head, trying to push him closer. But he pulls away, shaking his head.

"Hands off," he commands, his eyes flashing with anger. "You don't get to tell me what to do."

You whimper, your hand falling away. "Sorry," you whisper, your cheeks flushing with shame.

Aemond just smirks, his hand moving to your other breast, roughly squeezing the soft flesh. "Good girl," he purrs, before diving back in, his mouth hot and wet on your aching nipple.

You moan, your eyes fluttering closed as you lose yourself in the sensation.

"Fuck, you taste good," he growls against your skin, his hand moving to pinch and roll your other nipple between his fingers. The dual sensations make you cry out, your back arching as you press yourself further into his touch.

He releases your nipple with a wet pop, blowing cool air over the damp flesh. You whimper at the loss, your body craving more of his touch. "That's better," he says, his voice a low rumble in his chest. "You know your place."

Aemond's hand moves from your hair to your throat again, squeezing just enough to make you gasp for air. He leans in, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, "You gonna be a good girl and let me fuck you senseless?"

Your heart races, your breath coming in short, sharp gasps as Aemond's hand tightens around your throat. The lack of oxygen only adds to the haze of lust clouding your mind. You nod frantically, your eyes wide and pleading.

"Yes, yes, I'll be good," you whimper, your voice barely above a whisper.

Aemond's lips curve into a wicked grin against your skin, his teeth grazing your earlobe. "Fuck, you're so desperate for it, aren't you?" he growls, his hand releasing your throat to grip your hip, fingers digging into your skin hard enough to bruise.

He grinds up against you, the rough denim of his jeans rubbing against your aching clit. The friction is delicious, but not nearly enough. You need more. You need him inside you, stretching you, filling you.

"Yes, fuck yes, I'm desperate for it," you pant, your voice barely above a whisper. "I need you inside me, Aemond. I love it when you use me."

Aemond chuckles darkly, his lips brushing against your ear as he speaks. "Fuck, you're such a dirty little slut," he growls, his hand releasing your throat to grip your hair instead. He yanks your head back, exposing your neck to his hungry mouth.

"Gonna fucking ruin you," he promises, his teeth grazing your skin. "Gonna make you scream for me."

"Fuck, you're so wet," he groans. He yanks your head back, forcing you to meet his gaze. His eyes are dark with lust, filled with the depravity to come.

"Gonna fuck you so hard, you'll be feeling it for days," he promises, his hand moving from your hair to grip your throat again. He squeezes, cutting off your air supply just for a moment before releasing.

You gasp, your lungs burning for oxygen. But even then you still smile at him, biting your lip.

Aemond's eyes darken at the sight, a wicked grin spreading across his face. "Fuck, you're perfect," he growls, his hand releasing your throat to grip your ass hard enough to bruise. "A sight for sore eyes," he smirks, looking into your glossy eyes.

"Shit, I need to eat you out first," he groans, his jeans pressing down painfully on his throbbing cock.

He slides off the seat, kneeling between your legs as he slides your panties to the side impatiently. The scent of your arousal is thick in the air, making his cock throb with need. The cool air hits your aching cunt, making you shiver.

"Fuck, you smell incredible," he growls, his hot breath ghosting over your slick folds. He leans in, his tongue darting out to lap at your clit, making you cry out.

He groans at the taste of you, his tongue delving deeper, licking through your folds and fucking into your entrance. He eats you out like a man starved, his tongue moving in and out, his lips sucking on your clit.

His fingers delving between your folds. He brings them up to your lips, pressing them against your mouth. "Taste how fucking desperate you are for me."

You open your mouth obediently, sucking his fingers into your mouth. The taste of your arousal explodes on your tongue, musky and sweet. You moan around his fingers, your tongue licking and sucking, cleaning them of your juices.

Aemond's eyes darken with lust as he watches you suck his fingers clean, your tongue swirling around the digits. He growls low in his throat, his free hand moving to grip your breast, squeezing the soft flesh roughly.

"Fuck, you're so hot like this," he growls, his fingers popping out of your mouth.

He gets back up, leaving you unsatisfied and annoyed.

He grabs your hair, forcing your head back and making you look up at him. His eyes are dark with lust, his jaw clenched as he battles for control.

"Strip," he commands, his voice low and dangerous. "I want you fucking naked, now."

You scramble to obey, yanking your bra off, your breasts bouncing free, nipples hard and aching for his touch. Your miniskirt and panties are next, puddled on the floor of the car, leaving you bare and exposed.

"Shit, you look so good," Aemond growls, his eyes raking over your naked form. "I almost don't even want to ruin you... almost"

He flips you on your hands and knees, pushing your head down, forcing your ass in the air, holes completely exposed to him. He yanks you forward, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise. "Brace yourself, slut," he growls, grinding his clothed cock against your bare pussy. "Gonna fucking wreck you." 

You crane your neck to look back at Aemond, a scoff leaving your lips. "Take a picture, it'll last longer," you mock, your voice dripping with sarcasm.

His eyes darken at your words, a low growl rumbling in his chest. "Oh, I'll take more than just a picture, baby," he promises, his hand coming down on your ass in a sharp smack.

You gasp at the sting, your pussy clenching in anticipation. "Promises, promises," you taunt, wiggling your ass invitingly. "You talk a big game, but I bet you can't even get it half hard."

Aemond's grip on your hips tightens, his nails digging into your skin hard enough to leave marks. "Fuck, you're so goddamn cocky," he snarls. "Gonna shut that smart mouth of yours."

You moan at the contact, your head falling forward as you push your ass back against him. "Big talk, dickhead," you pant, your voice breathy with need. "Let's see what you've got."

Aemond responds to your taunts with a sharp smack to your ass, the sound echoing in the confined space of the car. "Fuck, you're asking for it," he growls, his hand coming down again, harder this time.

You gasp, your ass jiggling from the impact. "Shit, you're making a mess of me," you whine, wiggling your hips. Your pussy is throbbing, aching to be filled.

"That's the idea, slut," Aemond grunts, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your ass cheeks. He spreads them apart, exposing your tight holes to his hungry gaze. "Gonna fucking wreck this tight little ass."

His hands move to his zipper, slowly dragging it down. The sound of the metal seems obscenely loud in the confined space of the car.

He pushes his jeans and boxers down just enough to free his cock, the thick shaft springing up, hard and ready. The head is already slick with precum, the veins along the length pulsing with his heartbeat.

He spits in his palm, rubbing his saliva over his cock, giving it some lubrication. Then he's pressing the tip against your drooling hole, the rough denim of his jeans scraping against your sensitive skin.

"Fuck, you're so fucking tight," he groans, pushing forward, the head of his cock breaching your hole. You cry out, the stretch intense, bordering on pain.

"Relax, slut," he commands, his hand coming down on your ass again. "Take that fucking cock like a good whore."

He starts to move, his hips rocking back and forth, inch by inch of his thick shaft sinking into your tight heat. Your walls clench around him, trying to adjust to the intrusion, but he doesn't give you time.

He starts fucking you in earnest, his hips snapping forward, driving his cock deeper with each thrust. The car rocks with the force of his movements, the seat creaking beneath you.

"Fuck, you take it so well," he pants, his hand moving from your ass to grip your hip, holding you in place as he fucks into you. "Gonna fucking ruin this tight ass."

You moan, your hands gripping the seat, nails digging into the cracked leather. The pain in your ass mixes with the pleasure, making your head spin.

"Harder," you beg, pushing your hips back to meet his, desperate for more. "Fuck me harder, shit."

Your juices drip down your thighs, pooling on the leather seat below as Aemond pounds into you.

Your hands grip the seat, nails digging into the cracked leather as you brace yourself for the onslaught. Aemond's hands are everywhere - gripping your hips, squeezing your ass, tugging at your hair. He uses you like a rag doll, fucking you with an animalistic need.

Aemond grunts, his grip on your hips tightening as he complies with your demand. "Fuck, you want it hard, slut?" he growls, his voice strained with effort. "Gonna fucking give it to you."

He pulls nearly all the way out, leaving just the tip inside your stretched hole. Then he slams back in, his hips connecting with your ass with a sharp smack. He sets a brutal pace, fucking into you recklessly, the car swaying with his thrusts.

"Shit, you're so fucking tight," he pants, sweat dripping down his face, his messy black hair sticking to his skin.

You can only moan, your mouth hanging open as you gasp for air. Your breasts bounce with each powerful thrust, your nipples hard and aching for attention.

Aemond's hand moves from your hip to your breast, squeezing the soft flesh roughly. He pinches your nipple between his fingers, twisting and tugging, sending sparks of pain through your body.

"Fuck, your tits are perfect," he groans, his hand moving to your other breast, giving it the same treatment.

You whimper, your pussy clenching around his pistoning cock. The combination of pain and pleasure is overwhelming, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

You reach down, fingers finding your clit, rubbing in tight circles. The added stimulation makes you see stars, your back arching as you moan.

"Fuck, you're such a dirty girl," Aemond pants. "Getting off on being used like a fucking toy."

"Shit, I'm close," you pant, your nails digging into the leather seat and your fingers moving on your clit. "Don't stop, fuck, don't stop," you moan, your hips bucking back against him, seeking more friction. His fingers rub your clit in tight circles, the pressure building with each stroke.

He pulls your hair, forcing your back to arch, your ass pushing back against him. The new angle allows him to go even deeper, his cock hitting that sweet spot inside you that makes you see stars.

"That's it, take it all you little slut," he pants, his hand moving from your tit to your clit, replacing your hand, rubbing the sensitive nub in tight circles.

"Fuck, I'm gonna come," you whimper, your body tensing. "Please, Aemond, please."

"Do it," he commands, his fingers moving faster on your clit. "Come for me like the good little whore you are."

With a cry, you shatter, your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave. Your pussy clenches around his cock, your walls rippling along his shaft.

Aemond groans, his hips stuttering as your orgasm milks his cock. "Fuck, I'm gonna cum," he growls, his thrusts becoming erratic. "Where do you want me to spill?"

Your body convulses as the intense orgasm rips through you, your vision blurring and stars bursting behind your eyelids. "On my ass, fuck!" You cry out, the words torn from your throat. "Cum all over my ass!"

You arch your back, pushing your hips against Aemond's, desperate for more. Your pussy clenches around his cock, milking him.

You can feel his grip on your hips tighten, his thrusts becoming more erratic as he chases his release. The sound of your skin slapping together fills the car, mixed with your heavy breathing and moans of pleasure.

Aemond's cock throbs inside you, his thrusts becoming more erratic as your pussy milks him. He growls low in his throat, his hand fisting in your hair, yanking your head back.

"Fuck, gonna paint your ass white," he pants, his hips slamming against your ass with bruising force.

He pulls out abruptly, his cock slipping from your clenching hole with a wet sound. You whimper at the loss, your pussy aching to be filled again.

Aemond's hand comes down on your ass in a sharp smack, the sting making you gasp. "Present yourself," he growls, his voice low and dangerous. "Wanna see you take my load like a good little whore."

You arch your back even more, spreading your thighs as far as you can in the limited space. Your spasming holes are on full display for his hungry gaze.

Aemond kneels behind you, his cock in his hand, stroking it with quick, rough motions. "Fuck, you're such a good little girl," he pants, his eyes dark with lust as they roam over your body. "Too bad you're such a filthy slut."

He starts to come, his cock jerking in his hand as thick ropes of cum splatter across your ass and pussy. You moan, your fingers dipping between your folds to gather some of his cum, bringing it to your mouth.

"Fuck, look at you," Aemond groans, his hand still working his shaft, milking out every last drop. "Eating my cum like the dirty whore you are."

He collapses next to you on the seat, his chest heaving as he catches his breath. He reaches out, his fingers tangling in your hair, tugging your head back to look at him.

"You're fucking perfect," he growls, his eyes intense as they bore into yours. "Mine."

"Mhm," you hum, collapsing onto Aemond's chest, your body spent and sated. The car reeks of sex and sweat, your combined releases staining the seats. It's filthy and sinful, turning you on.

Aemond's arms wrap around you, pulling you close as he strokes your hair. You nuzzle into his neck, breathing in his scent, a mix of cologne and sex.

"That was intense," you murmur, your voice low and breathy. "You really know how to fuck a girl stupid."

Aemond chuckles, his chest rumbling beneath you. "Fucking right I do," he boasts, his fingers tangling in your hair. "You're a damn good lay, too. Always so fucking eager for my cock."

He tugs on your hair, forcing your head back to look at him. His eyes are dark, filled with lust and possessiveness. "You're mine," he growls, his voice low and dangerous. "This tight little body belongs to me."

"Such a good girl," he praises, his other hand cupping your cheek, thumb brushing over your swollen lips. "Gonna keep you."

You smile against his fingers, a wicked gleam in your eyes. "Keep me for what?" you tease. "You're not my man. I'm not your's to keep," you whisper, feeling an ache in your heart for some reason.

Aemond's eyes flash with a dangerous light, his grip on your chin tightening as he yanks your face closer to his.

His grip on your chin tightened. "The fuck I'm not," he growls, his voice low and menacing. "I've had you more times than I can count. I know every inch of this body, every fucking sound you make when I'm buried inside you."

He shifts, his face mere inches from yours, his breath hot against your lips. "You're mine, whether you admit it or not."

His other hand slides down your body, fingers dipping between your thighs to gather the cum leaking from your abused hole. He brings it to your lips, smearing it across them.

"Look at you, so fucking dirty, so desperate for my cum. You can pretend all you want, but deep down, you know you belong to me."

He crashes his lips against yours in a bruising kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth, claiming you with a ferocity that steals your breath.

When he pulls back, you're panting, your lips swollen and tingling. "You're mine," he whispers, his voice rough with emotion. "And I'm never letting you go."

His words send a shiver down your spine, a mix of fear and something else, something you're not quite ready to name.You press your forehead against his, your eyes fluttering closed as you try to steady your breathing.

"I don't belong to anyone," you whisper, but there's no conviction in your voice. "We're just fucking, Aemond. Don't make it more than it is."

Aemond's eyes darken, a flash of anger crossing his face before it's quickly replaced with a predatory smirk. "Just fucking?" he repeats, his voice low and dangerous. "Is that what you think this is?"

He sits up, pulling you with him so you're straddling his lap. His hands grip your hips, fingers digging into your soft flesh as he holds you in place.

"We've been doing this for months, baby," he reminds you, his voice rough. "You think I don't know the difference between a quick fuck and what we have?"

He leans in, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, "I know every inch of this body, every fucking sound you make, every way you tremble and writhe when I'm inside you."

"Stop fighting it," he growls, his eyes boring into yours. "You might tell your friends that this means nothing to you, that you think I'm some creepy guy you fuck. Yet you still keep coming back.."

Your breath catches in your throat, his words sending a shiver down your spine. How does he know? You've never told him those things. You shake your head, a strand of hair falling across your face. "No, I've never said that," you whisper, your voice trembling. "I swear."

You try to pull away, but his grip on your hips tightens, holding you in place. His eyes bore into yours, dark and intense, searching for any sign of deceit. "I wouldn't say those things about you," you insist. "I don't think you're weird."

Aemond's eyes narrow, his grip on your hips tightening until it almost hurts. "Don't lie to me," he growls, his voice low and menacing. "I know you talk shit about me to your friends. I know you think I'm some kind of freak."

He leans in, his breath hot against your cheek. "But you keep coming back, don't you? You keep spreading your legs for me, begging me to fuck you like the desperate little slut you are."

His hand moves from your hip to your throat, his thumb brushing over your pulse point. "You can't resist me, can you? No matter how much you try to pretend, your body knows who it belongs to."

He squeezes your throat, not enough to cut off your air, but enough to make your heart race. "I've heard you, baby," he whispers, his lips brushing against your ear. "I've heard you call me a freak, a deviant. But you still come back, letting me use your tight little body for my pleasure."

Your cheeks flush with shame and embarrassment as Aemond's words sink in. You try to pull away from his grip, your naked bodies still intertwined, but his hold is too strong. "Yes, fine. I have said those things about you," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

You search his eyes, trying to find the right words. "Aemond, you fight people. You're dangerous." You say it with a seriousness that misrepresents the thrill that runs through you at the very thought. It's the danger that makes him so appealing.

You sigh, your fingers caressing his face, tracing the strong lines of his jaw. "Must you have such an effect on me?" You mutter, before leaning in to kiss him.

Aemond's lips meet yours in a savage kiss, his tongue plundering your mouth with a fierce intensity. His grip on your throat tightens, his fingers digging into your skin as he holds you in place.

When he finally pulls back, you're both breathing heavily, your lips swollen and stinging from the force of his kiss.

"You fuckin' love it," he growls, his voice rough with desire. "You love the danger, the thrill of being with a man who can break you."

"Admit it," he presses, his voice low and dangerous. "You get off on the fact that I could snap anyone's fucking neck with one hand."

Aemond's grip on your throat loosens, his thumb stroking your pulse point in a surprisingly tender gesture.

"Would you ever hurt me?" You whisper, your breath hot on his lips, your faces mere inches apart. A flicker of fear in your eyes, but it's quickly overshadowed by the desire burning within you. You search his gaze, looking for any sign of malice, any hint of danger. But all you see is raw, primal hunger.

Your fingers trace the lines of his jaw. He's so close. It's intoxicating and terrifying at once. You have seen him fight, seen the way he's hurt others with minimal effort. He could break you, shatter you into a million pieces if he wanted to.

Aemond's eyes soften for a moment, a rare vulnerability flickering in their depths. "You think I'd hurt you?" he asks, his voice low and rough. "Baby, I'd die before I let anyone lay a finger on you."

He leans in, pressing his forehead against yours. "You're mine," he growls, his voice fierce with possessiveness. "And I protect what's mine."

His hand slides from your throat to your cheek, cupping your face gently. "I may be aggressive, but I'm not a pig," he murmurs, his thumb tracing your bottom lip. "I'd never hurt you, not like that."

"But make no mistake," he whispers, his voice low and dangerous. "I'll hurt anyone who tries to take you from me."

You bite his thumb lightly as he speaks, his possessive demeanour sending a jolt of electricity through you. "Anyone who would hurt me?" You purr, leaning into his touch like a small lamb. His words ignite a fire deep within you, a primal desire to be owned, claimed, and protected.

You know you shouldn't give in to this, but you can't help yourself. The way he looks at you like you are the only woman in the world, it's intoxicating.

Aemond growls low in his throat, his eyes darkening with lust at the feel of your teeth on his skin. "That's right, baby," he purrs, his hand sliding from your cheek to the back of your neck, tangling in your hair. "You're mine, and I'll fucking kill anyone who tries to take you away from me."

Your breath hitches in your throat at Aemond's words, his dangerous claims sending a shiver down your spine. You meet his gaze, your eyes are wide and full of devotion, a vulnerability you rarely show to anyone.

He tugs you closer, his lips brushing against yours in a feather-light kiss. "I'll protect you," he whispers, his breath hot against your skin. "I'll cherish you. I'll fucking worship you."

Your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him closer. "I'm yours," you whisper, your voice trembling with desire. "Body and soul."

Aemond's eyes flash with fierce triumph at your words, a primal look of satisfaction spreading across his face. "That's right, you're fucking mine," he growls, tugging you closer and crushing his lips to yours in a searing kiss.

"Get dressed, pretty girl. I'm taking you to my place," he demands, leaving no room for argument.

Aemond's eyes blaze with desire as he watches you scramble to put on your clothes, your naked body still slick with his cum. He licks his lips, his cock already hardening again at the sight of you.

He helps you to the passenger seat, smirking. "Hope you don't mind a messy ride."

[ripdragonbeans]

Love In The Darkest Of Places // modern!Aemond x Reader

Chapter 7: A Brief Respite, Perhaps?

Summary: You take a break from everything for a while but Aemond somehow shows back up in your life anyway.

Warnings: none

A/N: Thank you @exitpursuedbyavulcan for making this just a hint messier lol ❤️

Chapter 6 // Chapter 8

He didn't look back.

He didn't look back.

He didn't look back.

Those were the words that echoed in your head. Your heart crumpled. Tears ran down your cheeks. You hugged yourself tight.

A week has passed since you last talked to Aemond. He held true to his word; you were still blocked on his phone. Any attempt at a call went straight to voicemail. He was really cutting you out. You didn't exist in his life anymore.

“Sweetie?” There was a knock at your door. “You can’t stay in your room forever. You’re going to have to come out eventually.”

You talked just loud enough to be heard through the door. “Please leave me alone, Hel.” You sniffled a bit, and a few more tears dropped down. 

Yes, it’s been a week. Yes, you haven’t been able to stop crying for more than a few hours at a time. Yes, you miss him. Yes, everything hurts. No, you don’t feel like you’ve healed at all. You felt everything and nothing all at once. It was unreal; nothing felt real.

For a few more hours, you stayed in bed, curled up, occasionally crying. Whenever you thought you were done crying, a new thought would make its way to the front of your mind, and you'd start all over again. Once you got out of bed, you still wrapped yourself in your blankets but walked out into the living room. 

“I'm alive,” you said unenthusiastically. “I feel like shit, but I'm alive.”

“And I'm glad you are,” Helaena nodded. “Now, what would my friend like to do today except stay in bed?”

You shrugged and mumbled something incoherently.

“That's not going to work, sweetie. You need to get out. Let's go for a walk around the park. Maybe we can find some cute dogs!” 

You smiled at your friend as you gave in. “Fine, let's go find some dogs.”

You waddled back to your room to change into your usual day clothes. This time you chose to go with a casual dress and tights with a jacket and boots. While spring was nearing, it was still a little chilly. You looked at the sapphire necklace on your vanity. It took everything in you not to cry again. You softly caressed the necklace, wishing you could put it on, but you promised Aemond you wouldn't wear it anymore, and you were done breaking promises to him. Even if it hurt you. 

Leaving your room once more, you met Helaena in her car, already warmed up.

“I was thinking we could check out the dog park. It's the best place to find dogs, of course,” she said as though it was an amazing discovery.

“What about the shelter? It's a little smelly, but they're all looking for love.”

“Oh, but I don't want to give them false hope!”

You sighed. “That's fair. To the dog park we go!”

Despite the chilly day, there were quite a few people out with their dogs. You and Helaena sat on the bench and petted every dog that came by to say hi.

One husky came up to you, all friendly, and even jumped on you.

“Down, girl!” A voice called. It was a very familiar voice.

Looking up, you scrunched your eyes in the direction of the voice. “Cregan?” 

Cregan came jogging over to you and Helaena, his shoulder length hair tied in a half up half down ponytail.

“Hey,” he smiled. “Haven't seen you in a few years.”

“Yeah, it's been a while,” you agreed.

Over the years you kept in slight touch with Cregan but not actively. You would like each other's posts on social media and wish each other happy holidays when the time comes around, but that was about it.

“This is my girl, Tempest,” he said while he petted his dog. “Tempest say hi.”

Tempest let out a big “woof” to say hello to you and Helaena. 

“She’s well-trained. Did the training myself. You two got a dog here?”

“No, we just wanted to visit the pups, honestly,” you told him.

“We needed a break from the world,” piped up Helaena.

“That's fair,” Cregan chuckled, then looked at you. “How's you and um, what's his name? Oh, Aemond! How are you two doing?”

Your face dropped immediately. “We're…fine. I guess. We're not together, if that's what you mean. I haven't talked to him in a while.”

“Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. I thought you two were really close.”

You hugged yourself. “Yeah, we were,” you said quietly.

Silence hung in the air.

Helaena broke the silence. “How about we all go walking downtown? There are plenty of dog-friendly places there!”

Cregan was quick to jump in. “Yeah! Tempest would love to walk around, wouldn't you, girl?”

Tempest barked in excitement and wagged her tail.

“Meet us outside the library, yeah?” Cregan asked before he left.

“We'll be there!” Helaena called after him. “Come on,” she turned to you, “let's go walking with an old friend.”

Once you met up with Cregan and Tempest at the library, it was fairly easy sailing. Everything was okay again. Your heart felt lighter since this morning. It was nice to have something else occupy your mind other than Aemond.

The three of you and Tempest walked up and down the streets of King’s Landing. There were soap shops, clothing stores, tourist shops, and antique stores galore. Every now and then, you had to stop to allow a stranger to pet Tempest; she was more than happy to receive affection. 

You were at a peculiar knick-knacks shop when you felt a pair of eyes on you. Something wasn't right. You turned to ask Helaena about it when you saw them at the front door. Alys and Aemond. Your stomach dropped at the sight of them. You were ready to throw up.

Once again, they were holding hands but didn't show any other signs of affection. They were looking straight at you. Alys looked devious. She grimaced at the sight of you and tried to turn Aemond around but failed. He couldn't take his eye off of you. 

You silently mouthed his name. He was here, and he was so close. You wanted so badly to run to him, but you held yourself back. Not with Alys right there.

He took a step forward, like he was about to try to talk to you, but Alys pulled him back. She got up on her toes and whispered something in his ear. That's when his eye darted to Cregan and his close proximity to you. His jaw ticked, and he quickly turned on his heel, letting go of Alys’s hand and leaving her in the store. Alys didn't seem to mind. Instead, she winked at you and began to browse the store.

“What was that about?” Whispered Cregan.

You brushed it off. “Nothing. Nothing happened.” You bent down to pet Tempest. “Right, Hel? Nothing.”

Helaena nodded her head in agreement. “We should actually get going. It's been a long day.” She gave Cregan a quick hug and Tempest a kiss on the head. “It was nice to see you again.”

After you said your goodbye to Cregan and Tempest, you followed Helaena out the door and to her car, quick to avoid Alys.

When you got home, you sighed, heaviness starting to settle in your heart again. “That was…”

“Weird?” Helaena finished the sentence for you.

“I didn't know if I was going to cry or if I was going to scream at Alys.”

“Did you see how he left her, though? He left her behind.”

“Well, whatever she said to him pissed him off. It probably had to do with Cregan. Gods, she just wants me out of his life,” you groaned. Fear and sadness enveloped you once again. “And it's working. Aemond doesn't want me around.”

“Don't say that, you know that's not true!” Helaena said. “He was about to go to you. Alys just stopped him. If she weren't there, he would have talked to you.”

“If he wanted to talk to me, he could unblock me from his phone,” you countered. You sighed as tears gathered in the corners of your eyes. “I just want him back,” you whispered. 

“He'll come back, I'm sure of it.”

“...okay.” Your heart was no longer light anymore. It was heavy and difficult to carry. “I think I'm gonna go to bed now.” You got up and slowly made your way to your room.

“No, please don't. I need you to stay up,” pleaded.

“I'm drained, Hel. Thank you for the day, though. It was nice to be outside for a bit.” You gave her a sad smile from the hallway, then went to your room.

Curling up in a ball after changing clothes, you thought about the day. It was so nice until you saw him. Gods, you almost didn't even want to think about his name. Just his name made you want to cry. You let a few years fall before settling yourself into a deep sleep.

A few more weeks had passed. Graduation was almost upon you, and soon, Aemond and Alys could be open about their relationship. That was your only thought as finals were coming around the corner. You wiped away tears that threatened to fall. You haven't stopped crying completely but it certainly wasn't as bad as it was before.

You were about to head to class when your phone vibrated. When you unlocked it to see who it was, you almost dropped your phone.

Aemond.

Aemond Targaryen was calling you.

He was calling you.

You fumbled with your phone. “Yes?” You answered.

“Hey, can I come over? I know I've been gone, but I need…I need someone,” he said.

“Are you sure you want me and not Alys?” you asked.

You practically see him nod. “I don't want her. I need you. So, can I come over?”

“Yeah. Helaena is out for classes all day, so it would be just you and me.”

“That's fine.”

“Okay, I'll see you in a bit. To - I mean, bye.” And with a click, you hung up.

Aemond showed up fifteen minutes later. When you opened the door to let him in, the first thing you noticed was the exhaustion on his face.

“Aemond, are you okay?”

He tackled you in a hug, then quickly stepped back. “You were right.” Aemond ran a hand through his unruly hair and curled up on the bed. “She was cheating on me. I caught her with another student.”

“Aemond…” you were careful with your words. “I'm so sorry.” 

You slowly reached out to touch his shoulder, giving him enough time to turn away, but he didn't. He welcomed your touch. Aemond’s hands went to bury his face, and for a while, that's how you stayed. It was comforting, but at the same time, it wasn't enough. You wanted nothing more than to wrap him in your arms and hold him. How dare someone play with his heart after all he's been through.

Aemond suddenly started clawing at his face. “FUCK!” He sat up, ripped off his eyepatch, and threw it across the room. “What the fuck did I do? What did I do to deserve this?” He turned to you. “Tell me. What did I do that made the gods hate me?” Tears began to trickle out of his good eye. His sapphire shimmered as though it had tears as well.

“Aemond, the gods don't hate you,” you tried to reassure him. You slowly brought your other hand to his cheek. “No one hates you. I certainly don't.”

Aemond sniffled. “What about Alys?”

You took your hand away from his face. Alys. Of course he's still thinking about Alys right now. She was the reason he was feeling like this. 

“Alys…made her choice. I'm not saying she never cared about you, but it's showing how much she does by not being faithful.”

“Gods fucking dammit. I hate this. I hate her.”

Hearing Aemond proclaim his hatred for Alys should have your heart soaring, but instead, it made it sink. She was such an important person to him that she made him feel this way, and she didn't give one shit.

“That dinner, when you met her?” Aemond asked. “Guess it was all a fucking lie. She didn't care about me. She cared about getting you out.”

You let his words wash over you. Alys just didn't want to be fired from her job for hooking up with students. It was always about alienating you from Aemond to make sure she kept her job.

“You have a choice now. You can either break up with her and leave this all behind,” you took a deep breath. “Or you could go back to her like nothing ever happened.”

Aemond looked at you with unease in his eyes. He was conflicted. “I choose…” he started, “I choose to leave her.”

You stopped yourself from grinning. “Good. You deserve someone so much better than her. You deserve someone who cares about you.”

“Do I, though? Every person I've cared about has hurt me.” Aemond looked down. 

“Listen to me.” You cupped his face in your hands. “You are the most deserving person of all good things I have ever met. Every wrong that has ever happened to you never should have happened.”

Aemond’s good eye was glossy. He shook his head. “It's difficult to believe that after everything.”

“I know, and I'm so sorry that I'm one of those people who make you feel that way.”

Aemond sniffled. “Not all the time,” he admitted. “You've always been there, except for those few months, but even with everything with Alys, you still stayed.”

“Of course I would.”

He looked at your neck. “You're not wearing my necklace.”

“I didn't want it to remind you that I broke my promise.”

Aemond hummed. It was more of a comforting hum to himself. “Do you miss us?”

You sighed and gave him a small smile. “Of course I do, Aemond. I've missed you every day I've been away from you. Leaving you alone was the hardest thing I've ever had to do. Not wearing the necklace hurt my heart. It was my own reminder that I fucked up.”

Aemond moved closer to you. “I've missed you, too.”

And there you sat, holding Aemond closely as though he would disappear.

“I know I've said it before,” you whispered, “but I'm truly sorry for everything.”

“I know you are,” he whispered back. Aemond looked up at you and cupped your face. He sat up and began to lean in.

As much as you wanted to kiss him, you stopped it by placing a gentle finger on his lips.

“I want to kiss you, gods, how I've been wanting to kiss you, but you're hurt right now. I don't want to take advantage of you.”

Aemond flushed and backed up. “Yeah, I understand. I'm sorry, I just -” he stuttered. “Yeah.”

“Let's take it slow, okay? For both of us.”

“For both of us,” he echoed. He looked at you hesitantly. “Can we start with a date?”

You blushed. “Yes, we can start with a date.”

"Together forever?”

You smiled and kissed his forehead. “Together forever.”

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

For King and Kin

22/12: Party and Position Changes - Aemond Targaryen Word Count: 1.6k~ | Warnings: mentions of pregnancy, smut, prince regent aemond, doggy

12 Days of Smuff Masterlist

“She is of a weak disposition, I heard. Perhaps she is with child.”

“The Prince Regent certainly needs an heir.”

“He has looked sour since his Lady Wife left the celebrations.”

Aemond scoffed from his spot at the high table, circling a finger over the rim of his cup, half-filled with wine. They spoke as if he did not hear them, whispering such gossip. It was infuriating.

It was true that his lady wife suffered from sickness, especially in the mornings, but not exclusively. The maesters had told him in quiet confidence that they suspected she was with child, but that it was sensible to wait until the quickening to confirm.

What an excruciating wait.

She had graced the court with her presence earlier in the evening, but when she began to feel her stomach churning, she need only pay him a furrow of her brows in pain and he was more than happy to allow her rest if she needed it.

He was willing to carry her even, excuse himself from the celebrations himself. But she reassured him she was still able to walk, with a small, amused smile.

Even with the conqueror's crown planted firmly upon his head, all he could think of was the sweet curve of his wife's body in his. How warm she is. How smooth her skin. How plush her thighs. How tight her—

“Your Grace.”

Aemond blinked, swallowing thickly as he felt his breeches tighten at the mere tangent his mind was about to embark upon. Nothing softened him faster than the sight of Ser Tyland Lannister though, smug and stood tall as if he himself had been crowned instead of him.

“I wish to congratulate you on your Regency. As always your council will remain steadfast and trustworthy. And should you ever desire a Hand—”

“Thank you, Ser Tyland,” Aemond half-smiled, half-grimaced, “your loyalty is appreciated.”

Aemond nodded curtly to Ser Tyland, signalling the conversation was over, though the Lannister lingered a moment too long for Aemond’s liking before finally bowing and stepping away. 

His good eye drifted across the festivities. Everyone was drunk at best, smiles too wide, laughter too hollow, and he was overcome with the sudden desire to leave it all behind. He glanced in his mother’s direction as he pushed his chair out, her brown eyes wide with curiosity and judgement perhaps. 

She had given him no other look since Rook’s Rest.

“I believe they’ve seen enough of me tonight,” Aemond said, his tone firm. “The realm will not crumble if its Regent retires an hour early.”

“Aemond–”

“Mother,” he interrupted, his voice low but final.

It was only in the hall where he felt he could finally breathe. Air flowed easily, no longer stifled by the pomp and proper of the evening he had just sought to leave. He opened the heavy door to their chambers and stepped inside. The fire had burned low and she was already in bed, lying on her side, her hair spilling over the pillow.

“You left early,” he said quietly, closing the door behind him.

Her eyes opened slowly, and a small smile curved her lips. “And yet you followed.”

As he reached the bed, she shifted to sit up, the blanket pooling around her waist. “I thought you’d stay longer. Your mother will have words, I’m sure.”

“She always does,” he replied, sitting on the edge of the bed. His hand reached out to brush a strand of hair from her face. “Are you feeling unwell?”

Her gaze dropped for a moment, her fingers grazing her stomach in that way that had haunted him all evening. “No,” she said softly. “Just…tired.”

He hummed, “when will the maesters give their opinion?”

She looked up at him then, her expression caught somewhere between apprehension and hope. “They said it would be unwise to speculate for a few more weeks,” she replied. “But I am aware patience is not your strong suit, is it?”

He smirked faintly. “It is not.”

“You’ve waited for so much, Aemond,” she said softly, her voice warm and soothing, eyes glancing up at the conqueror’s crown sat atop his head. “A little longer won’t harm you.”

“Hm,” he murmurs, crawling over the bed towards her delicate form, pressing his face to her stomach with his hands on her hips, “spare me, dear wife. Have the maesters forbade coupling? I do not think I can wait.”

Her fingers threaded through his hair as she let out a soft laugh. “No,” she said, “but we must be careful. They warned against anything too…strenuous. Until we know for certain.”

“I am no beast,” he muffled against her shift, bunching it up as if desperate to touch her flesh, “I know restraint.”

“I seem to recall differently,” she countered with a teasing lilt.

With a hand to his chest, she pushes him back, enough to be able to straddle his lap as he sits with his back against the bed frame. For a moment his pupil widened slightly and she relished in the warm pride that spread through her at his reaction. 

She wasted no time. Unlacing his breeches was the simple part, but in this position, face to face, it was novel and intimate, more than usual. It was always Aemond on top, commanding her body to his. She wasn't sure how her husband was likely to cope with the change.

His breath hitched, eye closing as she pulled his cock free and worked him to full hardness, her slight palm massaging the ruddy tip, knowing what he liked. He was surely about to speak before she rose her hips, and the tip of him kissed her waiting slit, and slowly, slowly took her husband to the hilt.

Her movements were slow, deliberate, her hands braced against his chest as she guided them both into a steady rhythm. Aemond’s hands gripped her hips, his fingers pressing into her flesh as he resisted the urge to take control. He let her lead, his lips parting as a low groan escaped him.

“Ābrazȳrys” his voice caught, his eye blazing as he gazed up at her. “You are perfection.”

She leaned forward, her fingers threading through his silver hair, and pressed her lips to his. The dark crown brushed her fingertips, and in her annoyed breath, she slipped it from his head onto the bed. An action only the wife of the Prince Regent in this intimate moment would ever get away with.

Their breaths mingled, their shared movements growing more heated, more desperate. It felt good to roll her hips against him, each slide home was easy, aided by her unending desire to please him. But soon, she began to slow, the strain in her thighs becoming too much.

Her brows furrowed, her rhythm faltering as she let out a shaky breath. “Aemond.”

He must have felt the shake, as he was already moving her off his lap, “enough. Allow me.”

He guided her off him carefully, laying her down on her side before helping her onto her hands and knees. She looked over her shoulder, her eyes wide, and for a moment, uncertainty flickered across her face.

Her cheeks burned as he pulled the shift over her backside, pulling her legs apart so he might see the wetness that glazed her womanhood. She felt exposed and utterly at his mercy in such a compromising position.

Not to mention, this was uncharted territory.

“We’ve never…” she began, her voice trailing off.

Aemond smirked, his fingers trailing down her spine. “No,” he murmured, his tone low, “but we will now.”

He positioned himself behind her, and watched with curiosity and admiration, as for from this angle, he was able to watch himself disappear inside, swallowed by her silky walls. She gasped in turn, this was deeper than she had ever felt him, with her spine curved and backside held against him. Her fingers clutched the sheets as his pace began slow enough, before his restraint began to ebb away.

“Alright?” he rasped, leaning forward to press kisses along her shoulder, his voice rough with both pleasure and concern.

Her hips instinctively pushed back, “don't stop…”

Her approval shocked him, but ignited his confidence all the same as he began to push into her with renewed vigour. She was surprised at how much she liked it, the way he fit against her, the way his hands held her so firmly. It felt raw, intimate, and utterly consuming.

His hands slid up to her waist as he felt her peak quiver through her body, her walls spasming around him and in the force of it, her arms gave out and she pressed her front to the sheets. She swore she felt the palm of his hand on her lower stomach, stroking lovingly as he reached his, pushing hot, pearly ropes of his release so much inside her, that she felt it dribble down her thigh.

Aemond helped her shift onto her side, gathering her into his arms as they both caught their breath. His hand instinctively returned to her stomach, his thumb brushing over the soft skin in slow, soothing circles.

“You will let me know once the maesters give their opinion, won’t you?”

“Of course,” she replied, leaning into him. “But tonight, you are Prince Regent. Let us celebrate that.”

Aemond shook his head, his lips curling into a rare, genuine smile. His gaze softened as he looked at her, his wife, who had managed to calm the storm in him more times than he cared to admit.

“Tonight, I am your husband. Nothing else matters.”

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[thought--bubble]

🤣🤣 he'll do that to ya! Thank you for reading!

Mine To Claim

Dark Aemond X (Commoner Reader)

Warnings Below

Word Count: 2,193

Canon Aemond Masterlist

Full Masterlist

Banners by @arcielee

Based on THIS request

Warnings:: Pregnancy, Infidelity, Dub-con

A/N: Hit 200 followers today!🥳🥳 Thank you to all of you who read and interact with my stories! You make this so fun and make me want to keep writing more and more! 🥰

The bell over the door in your little store chimes at you, and you look up to see the face of your long-time friend. It is an unlikely friendship and a friendship most people know nothing about, but it is a relationship that is dear to your heart.

He holds two small dresses over his arm. There is a seamstress in the keep. An incredibly talented one, but still, he takes dresses to you to be tailored or repaired.

"Hello, my prince," you smile as he brings the dresses up to you.

"These are small. Must be for the little princess?" You take the dresses from him and lay them out on the table before you.

"Running around with her brother, she damaged them. Here and here, " his face is stoic as he points to a few minor tears on the garments.

"Oh, I'll have these fixed up quickly." You hum to yourself as you lift the dress, trying to match the color to your available thread.

"No need to be quick. I have nowhere to be. " he sits down in the chair on the other side of your sewing table.

This was a regular occurrence, ever since the night you found him curled up cold and shaking outside the brothel your father frequented.

He had been dragged there by his brother to "become a man" and was so uncomfortable during the whole ordeal that he ran out into the dark streets alone to escape. It was raining and cold, and he had never been down in here on his own.

Lost, scared, and traumatized, he stumbled down the alleyways behind the brothel, passing by your little hovel where you sat on the stoop just watching the rain. As he moved just past your hovel, he drops to his knees and buries his face in his hands. Once you hear the sobbing, your heart breaks. From his size alone, you can see he is a child like you, so you ran to him, bringing him into your home, and miraculously, he went with you.

When he had pulled his hood down and you saw that silver hair, you froze in terror. It would be your luck that you accidentally dragged a Targaryen prince into your house.

You had apologized profusely, but he wasn't upset with you, and that was how it started, from there, he would come back to town with his brother regularly but instead of following him into the brothel he would come to see you.

You were a secret for him, a safe place where he could unload, you never judged, only supported, and because of that, the two of you grew to be very close.

You couldn't deny that he was handsome and charming. As he grew from a boy to a man, you could not help but be impressed by his commanding presence and his dedication to his swordsmanship and studies.

Today as he sat in the chair across from you, you couldn't help but smile.

"So...." you start and look at him knowingly.

He raises an eyebrow at you and you chuckle.

"How did it go? Your nephews being back?"

He instantly goes rigid and the calm look on his face hardens into a look of fury.

"Well, very well" he chuckles to himself as he crosses his legs.

"Is that so?" You know there is no way it went 'well' by an average person's definition of the word, you were however talking to Aemond so it's possible in his mind it did.

"Yes, I gave a wonderful speech, well received" he leans back in the chair a smug smirk crawling up the corners of his mouth.

You knew better than to continue to pry so you changed the subject. "I also have some good news" you continue stitching the dress in your hand as you wait for his reply.

"hmmm" he taps his fingertips on his knee "and what is that?" He keeps his eye trained on you, with a look of skepticism splayed across his sharp features.

"I am to be married!" You smile brightly and your cheeks heat up.

You have been seeing a fisherman, a young man by the name of Oscar. He has brown curly hair to his shoulders and warm brown eyes. A charming smile with a broad chest and shoulders.

You should have waited until marriage to let him bed you. You knew that. Yet, his charm and charisma had you leave your convictions by the wayside, and you found yourself missing a moon blood shortly thereafter, and when you bombarded Oscar with your fear and panic upon his most recent return, his response was that of elation and he quickly asked your father for permission to wed you.

Aemond's silence is deafening. You stare at him your smile beginning to faulter at his lack of reply.

"Are you not going to congratulate me?" You ask beginning to get a bit more frustrated and impatient.

"For what exactly?" His voice is cold and cruel, his fingertips tapping against his kneecap.

"For... for my happiness?" you are so confused at his behavior. He had always supported you, when you opened your own shop, when you finally put your foot down with your father and got him off the drink.

He grips the arms of the chair he is sitting in, his knuckles turning white. "Happiness?" he grits his teeth and stands up looking toward the door.

"When?" He still hasn't turned around and his voice is tense.

"In a few days..... Aemond.... this won't effect our friendship if that is what you are concerned about" You try to combat his anger and tense air with gentleness and understanding.

"Why is this so hurried?" He completely ignores your prior statement.

"What?"

"Why are you getting married so quickly? What. is. the. hurry?" He is now looking at you with his jaw clenched and his shoulders tense.

"Oh.... I'm ...... " You take a deep breath in. You know that he is a loyal follower of the seven. As are you. This confession is going to make things so much worse.

"I am with child." You close your eyes and squeeze them tight and wait for the inevitable chastising and disappointment.

"So you wish to marry him?"

You slowly open your eyes and look at Aemond with confusion. "Yes"

"And when the child is born, with silver hair and purple eyes, will people not question their true parentage?" He takes in sharp short breaths, and his lone eye is wide open, pupil blown.

"Why would my child look like a Targaryen?" You rub your temples to try and ease the pressure building there. 'What in the seven hells is he getting at?'

He quickly rounds the table and grabs your chin, pulling you up to your feet, your neck strained with your face up to look directly at him.

"Because of me." His face is still as stone. A look of conviction that has you even more confused than before.

"Aemond..... we have never....ummm. " You clear your throat, hoping that he would come to his senses.

He doesn't. He lowers his mouth to yours, placing a gentle kiss on your lips. At first, you can't help yourself, and you kiss him back. His lips are just as soft as you had imagined them.

He brings his hand up to the side of your face and slides it into your hair. When his kisses start to trail from your mouth down your neck, you start to remember that this isn't right.

"Stop." You push him away and back up. "We can not do this." You run your fingers through your hair.

"Why?" The anger pulsating off of his body is stifling.

"Because! I am to be married! I am with child! Another mans child! Aemond, you are a prince! This is madness!" You turn from him believing this would surely be the end of the situation.

"You are mine to claim!" He yells out.

The booming sound has you swing back around in shock.

He stalks toward you, a dragons fury burning in his sole eye.

"I must claim what is mine. It is not freely given to me. I will take it by force if I must, but the result remains the same. What I covet shall be mine"

"Aemond.... " You slowly back away from him, putting your hands up in front of you in a defensive gesture.

"You are mine." He steps closer to you. "You belong to me ever since the day I found you." He continues moving closer to you as you do your best to back away.

"Your body, your mind, your soul, it's all mine," the pupil of his eye has taken over entirely as he corners you in the back of your little shop.

You again attempt to reason with him. "Aemond... this baby..." He puts his hand up.

"Is mine"

"it can not be, it isn't possible." You press yourself up against the wall tightly. "You know this to be true!"

"It is mine.... because I will it so. " he wraps his hand around your throat, moving his face close to yours, whispering directly into your ear. "I waited too long, I see that now."

He ruffles up your skirts. "You are still mine." He moves his fingers over your heat and releases a husky breath.

"You can feel it, I know you can." He rubs his hand over your clothed center.

You mewl quietly as he moves his hand in a circular motion, applying more and more pressure.

"Your body..... it tells me what you will not. " he pulls your underclothes down to your knees before bringing his hand back to your center.

"You are soaking for me, and still you wish to deny us?" He slides a finger into you while tightening the grip around your throat.

He starts to pump his finger. "Your body has already given into me. The mind will follow. " He lightly nibbles at your cheek, and he crooks his finger, looking for the spot inside of you that would make you even weaker to his touch.

You start moaning loudly. "That's right Dōna Riña " He uses the palm of his hand to apply pressure to your pearl as he starts to slide a second finger into you. "submit"

"I .... I ..." Your body is responding to him in ways it has never responded to Oscar. Your senses are so heightened that you can't even form a coherent thought.

"Tell me you are mine." He tugs at the shell of your ear with his teeth as he brings you closer and closer to climax, holding the weight of your body up with his other hand.

"Yours." You practically whisper as you close your eyes, ready to ride out your pleasure. As soon as the words leave your lips, he stops.

"Not on my fingers." He picks you up by the waist carrying you back over to the sewing table. He slides his hand across, knocking all items to the ground.

You are like putty in his hands. Just desperate for him to touch you again. He lays you down back flat on the table, legs hanging off the end.

He pushes your dress up, exposing you to him. He slides his finger up and down through your folds, causing you to buck your hips toward him. "Say it again," he growls while he pulls the strings of his breeches loose.

Your hazy lust riddled mind is confused, and all you can muster is a gentle "huh?"

He pulls out his hard cock and slides it over your clit spreading your wetness. "I said to say it again, say what you are"

"Yours?" As soon as you say this he starts to push into you.

"Again," he grunts

"Yours!" You whimper

He wraps a hand around your throat as he bottoms out, moving gently against you. He sighs.

"That's right mine" He tightens the grip on your throat as he starts to fuck into you harshly "mine"

"This cunt is mine" He jams two of his fingers into your mouth making you gag "This mouth is mine"

He pulls his fingers out of your mouth, dragging the wet digits down the front of your face.

He brings his hand to your chest and palms your breasts through your dress. "These tits are mine"

He brings his hand back down to your pearl, rubbing it in circular motions with his thumb. "It's all mine"

With this, you feel your climax surge through your body, your whole body clenches around him. He lets go of your throat, bringing both hands to your hips, pulling your body to him while he slams into you harder and harder, chasing his own release.

"This womb...." He grunts as he hits his own peak, making sure to fill you completely,"is mine"

You lay back on the table, having been fucked dumb.

"I'll come back for the dresses." He fixes his breeches before pulling your dress back down.

"And when i do, I better not see a husband here"

To be added to taglist click here

@targaryen-dynasty

[celtigxr]

THE PINK DREAD - CH. 30 (Masterlist)

Chapter Summary: Rhaenyra and the rest of her brood return to King's Landing for the first time in years. Aegon has a heart-to-heart with his least favourate person in the world. Word Count: 4976 CHAPTER WARNINGS: Fluff, angst, mentions of bullying. Very little Valeana in this chapter, sry sry. But Aegon 👀

Series tags: Aemond x Plus size!OfC, Aegon x Plus size!OfC, Celtigar!ofc, Plot with Smut, mdni 18+, Aemond End Game, Angst, Comedy, The Dragons Don't Dance, slow burn, friends to enemies to lovers, enemies to friends to lovers.

Credits: Lace Banner by Aquazero, pearl divider by Pommecita

Notes: PLEASE READ THE AUTHOR'S NOTE AT BOTTOM OF CHAPTER. Additionally, I'm not super proud of like 50% of this chapter. This is where my muse started to slip for me, so it's not my best work, and the next few chapters as well. I'm hoping to correct that by proof reading them, but mostly, the next 5 chapters are really me trying to move along the plot.

T H E  P A S T

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

“Ohhh, I am going to miss these chubby cheeks,” Rhaenyra cooed in a high-pitched voice as she yanked little Valeana Celtigar and pulled her onto her lap. Nearly four years old, the girl was plump as she was adorable, filling Rhaenyra with an almost maternal level of cute aggression. Luke had just been born, another boy, where she yearned for a daughter. Valeana would fill that void until the Mother could grant her wish. 

“May I just have a bite? A wee nibble?” Rhaenyra mimicked a bite at the child’s cheeks, earning her a shriek of mirth. 

“Princess Nyra, no!!” Valeana giggled and wiggled in her grasp. 

The woman mock pouted, “But I won’t see you for weeks. What will I do without my little Valeana? Whose cheeks will I nibble now?” 

The little girl stuck her tongue out between her teeth, mischievous green eyes moving over the large man in the corner, his gold cloak making him stand out even more. “Ser Harwin’s.” 

Rhaenyra looked up at her sworn sword, who’s smile brightened, “Ser Harwin’s? But they are hidden under all that hair. It would taste awful.”

The knight chuckled, shaking his head. 

Valeana covered her face with her small hands, eyes peeking through her fingers, “But you can’t bite my cheeks, Nyra! I need’em!” 

“Oh, is that right? What for, my dear?”

The little girl’s face turned pink from hairline to chin, her eyes tightly closed as she buried her face into Rhaenyra’s soft belly. “Prince Aemond.”

“Prince Aemond?” Rhaenyra repeated, eyebrows turned upward.  

“He-he gives me kisses on’em, before we go to bed.”

Rhaenyra shared a look with Harwin, before looking down at the squirming girl on her lap, a fond smile pulled at her lips. “He does, does he?” 

Valeana nodded shyly, “I like Prince Aemond. He’s pretty, like you!”

“Oh!” Rhaenyra laughed, looking back at Harwin again, a broad entertained grin in place. The man simply chuckled louder, placing his hand over his mouth. “And have you told Aemond this?”

She shook her head, moving her face back into the shield of Rhaenyra’s belly once again, “Noooo… Prince Aegon will make fun of me.”

With a pout, the princess tried to move the girl so she could see her face, “And why on earth would he do that?” 

Valeana’s mouth was pulled into a frown, her green eyes wandering around the room while she tried to control the wobble of her lip, “He doesn’t like me. It’s ‘cause I’m not pretty, like you, or Aemond, or Helaena, or him, or Jacaerys or–”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Rhaenyra pulled her up so she was sitting properly in the cradle of her lap, and took her face between both of her hands. “I will have none of that. You are just as pretty, Valeana.” 

Though the little girl did not seem convinced. Her large eyes marbled into two glistening peridot gems, “A-Aegon says I’m too f-f-fat to be pretty, ‘n–’n only pretty girls muh-marry princes, and become prin-princess-esses.”

Rhaenyra pulled her into her chest, scoffing at her brother’s cruelty, “My brother is a fool. A blind fool, my darling. Do not listen to a thing he says… You are beautiful, just like your mother, Lysa.”

“R-really?” Valeana hiccuped. 

The princess nodded earnestly, “Of course. You are her very image, just ask Ser Harwin.”

Valeana craned her neck to look up at the knight, eyes puffy and watery, cheeks pink and tear stained, “Am-am I pre-pretty, Ser Harwin?”

The large man sauntered over before bending to his knee next to Rhaenyra, so he could level his eyes with the child. “You are so very pretty, Lady Valeana. Just like Lady Lysa, just like Princess Rhaenyra.” 

Valeana blushed heavily, scrunching up her nose and putting her small hands to cover her face, trying to lean away, suddenly very bashful. Alas, Rhaenyra had a grip on her, and at her darling little display of embarrassment, the princess laughed. 

“It’s those cheeks! They’re just like apples, wouldn’t you say, Ser Harwin?”

“Oh, the juiciest of apples!” 

“Care to take a nibble with me?”

“Of course!”

Valeana squealed as she tried to pull away, but it was too late. The princess and the knight planted their lips on both of her cheeks at the same time, squishing her face. When Harwin pulled away with a chortle, Rhaenyra just kept on kissing the girl’s cheeks, pinching and taking mock bites out of them, all the while Valeana giggled, screamed, and tried to scramble out of her grasp. 

Not long after, Lord Bartimos Celtigar had sauntered onto the terrace, his face stretching out in a fond smile at the sight of his daughter in the arms of the crown princess. 

“Oh, I’d hate to put an end to this lovely display of affection, but alas, Princess Rhaenyra, we are about to leave for the Isle. Ursula is about to give birth any day now.” 

The princes sighed disappointingly, “Of course, of course.” With Valeana still in her arms, she stood up and walked over to the Master of Coin, but before she handed her over, she turned to the little one in her arms and said firmly. “Now, remember what I told you.”

Valeana nodded, rubbing her chubby fist along her reddened cheeks. 

“And if anyone says otherwise, I will send them to Syrax, then they’ll be nothing but toast.” 

The girl giggled mischievously, “Prince Egg-on-Toast.” 

It had only been a day, and yet that was too long. The night he had spent with Valeana was seared into his memory, like a dream he could not stop thinking about. That night, after he released his spend all over her hand, they had cleaned up and laid back in the pillows. She curled up at his side, head laying on his chest as they both looked up at the stars in blissful silence. He didn’t want the night to end, but it eventually did when the sky started to pink along the horizon, and Valeana jolted awake at the realization of how long they had been there. 

In silence he escorted her back to her room, thanking the gods that Floris had not woken up with the looming dawn. At the entrance, he thanked her for an amazing night, and she responded by placing a kiss on his cheek, thanking him in return. 

Aegon spent the better part of that day in bed, fingers tracing the spot where she had kissed him, eyes closed as he reimagined her tits, her face, her hand around his cock. A smirk crawled upon his face then, when he recalled the moment he returned to his bedchambers, peeled off his clothes and noticed the dark stain on his breeches. Blood. 

That was why she did not want to go further. Aegon could have had her that night, had it not been for the Mother’s curse. The fact alone made him hard again, giving him no choice but to summon Hildy so early that morning. Her services aren’t quite done after all… at least for the next 3-5 days. 

Aegon was aware that Valeana would be with his nephew that afternoon, the thought of which drove him to near madness. He needed to see her again, to do it again, but he swallowed down his impatience, and instead went into the pavilions to distract himself. There he reunited with the Redwyne brothers and as a result, found himself in Catelyn’s company. 

He leaned into her ear, and whispered, “Your idea worked like a charm.”

This elated her, turning to him with a bright smile that was infectious, “It did?! Tell me everything.”

Aegon rocked on the balls of his feet innocently, hands clasped behind his back as he started to walk through the pavilions, forcing her to trail next to him. He hummed, a smile curling his lips, “I do not kiss and tell.”

She gasped, “You ki—” Cat cut herself off and cleared her throat, looking around the area to make sure no one was listening to their conversation. People were already watching them curiously, what with Aegon being a Prince, and Catelyn being not his usual company. “You kissed?” She repeated in a whisper. 

Well, no, Aegon realized. They hadn’t… He kissed other parts of her, and her own chaste one on his cheek still made the area warm and tingly. But the realization bothered him more than he thought it would. It was a fact he wished to rectify. 

In the end, he did not tell Catelyn exactly what happened, other than they had a lovely midnight snack and chat, where he made his heartfelt confessions, and she gifted him with a chance. 

One drink became several, as usually was the case, and his jovial time in the pavilions became a pleasant blur. By the time he got back to the Red Keep, it was already too late in the evening to call for Valeana. Besides, he was far too drunk to make any sort of good impression on her father. Aegon was aware that Bartimos already had a sour impression of him, and if he was going to marry Valeana, then he would have to – somehow – get on ol’ Barty’s good side. 

Aegon barely had his tunic off when his mother entered into his chambers, completely unannounced. She had a tendency to do that, particularly when she was contrite with him over something he wasn’t even aware that he had done. 

“Mother,” he threw his head back, too tired and too inebriated to coherently greet her properly. His hands rubbed his eyes before he regarded her through his exhaustion, “One of these days, your intrusions will be awarded by the unseemly sight of your son rutting into—”

“Enough!” Her face reddened, from anger or embarrassment over the mental image he had just painted, or likely both. “I had come to you this morning, but your guard told me you were occupied.”

Aegon smiled slyly, “Very.”

The queen scoffed at her son, turning sharply away as she rubbed her fingers to her temples. She paced around the room like that, only aggravating Aegon, who longed to be nude and in his bed. 

“Would you please just berate me already? It’s why you’re here, isn’t it?”

His mother finally stopped her pacing, moving her hands from her head to her hips, “What are your intentions with Lady Valeana?”

The bluntness and the seriousness of her tone was enough to sober him. Aegon wobbled back, as if a blow was made at him. To steady himself, he placed his forearm on the post of his bed, and leaned against it. 

“Did we not already have this conversation?” He peered at her in confusion. “You told me to stop pursuing her, threatened to chain me to my rooms, and I completely ignored you?”

“Aegon,” her tone was a force in its steadiness. Alicent strode over to him, and despite being shorter, it still felt like he was under her. Like he was still a child. “Tell me the truth, for once in your bloody life. What. Are. Your. Intentions?” 

Aegon’s mouth fell into a pout, his red rimmed eyes stared back at her like a reprimanded puppy. Alicent never swore, he would remember if she did. His mother had a knack for making polite words sound as lethal as a Valyrian steel blade. 

“To cour–” She did not allow him to finish. Alicent’s hand grabbed his face firmly under his jaw. 

“I said I want the truth of it! That girl is under the impression you are fond of her, but I know my son! She is the daughter of a noble house, not some common maid that you can use to exercise your depravities with!”

Aegon wretched his face away from her hand, his brows pulled downward in a twisted look of annoyance and outrage. The logical part in his brain does not blame his mother for reaching to the conclusion that he had ill intent, but what hurt the most was that she could not simply imagine Aegon actually being soft on a girl. That the very idea was improbable on every plain of existence, because Aegon simply could not feel with anything other than his dick. 

“I am fond of her!” He shouted, backing away from his mother. His frustration mixing with the alcohol in his veins created a boiling point; he was so fucking tired of his mother thinking so little of him. “And my intentions with Valeana Celtigar are pure. Why is that so fucking hard to believe?”

Alicent momentarily looked taken back by the intense sincerity of his voice, which cracked with emotion and exhaustion. The Queen shook her head, “You cannot attach yourself to that girl, Aegon. You know you are intended to marry your sister–”

Aegon scoffed loudly, throwing his head back, “Mother! Stop this! Father does not wish for me to marry Helaena, and we do not wish for it either! For once in your life can you just be happy for me?” 

The question had rendered Alicent speechless, if only for a prolonged moment. His mother’s eyes, wide, dark, glistened with unshed tears (of guilt or aggravation, he could not tell) as they darted between his desperate violet ones. 

“I cannot help but conclude,” she began to speak, her voice lower than before, almost delicate and methodical as if she was trying to soften a blow. “That you only fancy the girl because she belonged to your brother, and you know he wants her back. How can I be happy for one son, when it is at the expense of another?”

Aegon’s anger was quickly boiling over, evident by the reddening of his face and the trembling of his fingers. He longed to grab something and throw it at her, but instead he settled for taking a forceful step in his mother’s direction, and angrily pointed in the direction of Aemond’s quarters, “AEMOND DOES NOT DESERVE HER! He does not deserve the happiness that she brings. He pushed her, mother, broke her fucking leg clean off, and then treats her like the scum of the earth, and yet you stand here and tell me that his happiness is more deserving than mine?!” 

“Aegon, that is not–”

“I will not hear it, mother! I will hear no more of it! I will not marry Helaena, and I will not be your fucking king! You and grandsire’s selfish ambition will ruin my life no longer. I will marry who I chose, and as soon as Valeana Celtigar is my wife, we will fly to the Free Cities, away from this bleeding place. Away from father, from Rhaenyra, from Aemond, from grandsire. Away from you!” 

With people from all four corners of Westeros collecting around King’s Landing, there was always a very audible chorus of gasps, claps, and some screams whenever dragons flew over the city. Even if it became somewhat of a common occurrence, with nearly all dragonlords in attendance for the Royal Conclave, and the looming presence of the Cannibal that had to be deterred every two to three days, the sight never got old for spectators. However, there was a particularly louder reaction the morning that Princess Rhaenyra arrived. 

Gone for many years, the heir to the Throne’s return was heavily anticipated. None knew if she was going to come at all after the tragedy of her daughter’s untimely death. But the Conclave was not the only thing that drove Rhaenyra back home; her duty to her sons was paramount, their marriages needed to be secured to good houses, and not only that… Vaemond Velaryon was going to petition to be the Heir of Driftmark, robbing Lucerys’ inheritance. The very inheritance that his grandfather wanted for him. But alas, the Sea Snake was not conscious, and he continued to toe the line between life and death. 

The golden Syrax glided over the ramparts and roofs of King’s Landing, followed by the smaller Moondancer, and lastly the large Meleys, the Red Queen. While they descended onto Rhaenys’ Hill and into the Dragonpit, ships bearing the black banners of Rhaenyra Targaryen, and the turquoise colours of House Velaryon docked into the bay. 

The princess’ return was met with a grand reception on her way to the Keep. In the wheelhouse, the Princess sat with Rhaenys, Baela, Rhaena, Joffrey, Aegon the Younger, and her little Viserys on her lap. Joffrey, at three and ten, had spent most of his formable years at Dragonstone, so his return to King’s Landing felt more like the first time. He peered through the carved peepholes that windowed the corners of the wheelhouse, marvelling at the people who showered them with flower petals, and waved black and red flags. There were some that were not so joyous, however. For every ten, there was one brave, mad man or woman who shouted ‘dragon whore’ through cupped hands, which Joffrey chose to ignore with a stiff swallow. 

Rhaenys was watching her cousin’s daughter closely throughout the ride. For years, she had strongly suspected that Rhaenyra and Daemon had a hand in Leanor’s murder. However, prior to their departure to the capitol, in Nyra’s desire for Rhaenys’ presence in King’s Landing, the younger princess had gifted her not only the truth, but an offer of betrothal between Rhaena and Lucerys. There was some doubt in Rhaenys’ mind that perhaps Nyra was simply placating her heart into believing her son was alive and happy somewhere across the narrow sea, because she needed the woman to advocate for her. Vaemond’s shadow loomed in the harbour, preparing himself for the petition for the inheritance of Driftmark, which would take place sometime past midday. Hardly enough time for a proper reunion amongst family and friends. 

Despite her doubts, however small or large, Rhaenys felt compelled to put her trust in her cousin’s hands. Her granddaughters were her blood, and she would much rather see one of them as Lady of Driftmark than her husband’s nephew. Though that alone isn’t all that steered her, but also the knowledge that Rhaenyra and Rhaenys walked the same path. They just ended up in different destinations. Rhaenys saw herself in the younger princess, had she been the Queen That Ever Was. 

When they arrived at the Keep, it was not in the Throne Room, but rather in the intimate Small Hall, which was vacant of even courtiers for the reunion. As soon as the crow princess entered, she immediately saw the new masonry, the new frescos, the new tapestries, where they once depicted dragons and scenes of Old Valyria and the Conqueror’s victories, now showed images of the Seven. She shared a look with Daemon as he approached her along with her two eldest. 

The princess swallowed her displeasure over the change of her home, but instead smiled when she reached her sons, placing a hand on each of their cheeks. 

“Have you two been behaving?” 

Luke grinned mischievously, “Better than most.”

Rhaenyra pinched his cheek for his sass, and then looked over at Jace, maternal seriousness now taking over. 

“And have you done what I’ve asked?”

Jace nodded, sucking in his bottom lip, “I have, mother. Though I wish to converse with you. There has been a…” He casted a look over at his brother, and then his step father. “Development.” 

Rhaenyra opened her mouth to inquire further, but it was at this time that King Viserys, Alicent, and her half siblings entered the room. Immediately, her spine went ram-rod straight, but her face was soft when she came into her father’s awaiting arms. 

While her conversation with her father was not forgotten, it was the moments of tenderness she spent with Alicent during her short visit to Dragonstone that also plagued Rhaenyra’s mind. Her mind was so heavy, and yet she still had the burden of mourning on her shoulders, as was evidenced by her black gown and the veil she had pinned to her braids. 

The dual kisses she shared with Alicent upon their cheeks was brief, polite, but full of unspoken emotion. Alicent looked at her with sympathy, seeing a mother still grieving, and a friend she had lost. Rhaenyra’s own eyes held longing for their youth, their past, and empathetic sadness for a betrayal that Alicent was not aware happened.

Her four half siblings were met with almost forced pleasantness. With Helaena, it was genuine, even going as far as thanking her for her attendance at Visenya’s funeral. With Aegon and Aemond, it was stiff. Despite Aegon being her first sibling, and therefore he had been in her life the longest, there was little to no sisterly devotion. He would always be a symbol of Alicent’s treachery to their friendship. But, still, she at least attempted. 

“My,” Rhaenyra placed her hands in front of her, “The last I saw of you two, you were boys, barely on the cusp of manhood. Now here you are, taller than your eldest sister.” 

Aegon smiled sardonically, his eyes glancing down at her wrist, “Glad to see your arm healed nicely, sister.” 

She raised an eyebrow at him, twisting her lip before she looked up at Aemond, her tongue tied now that the elephant in the room was acknowledged. The last time she saw them was the day Aemond lost his eye, at the hands of her son. 

“Aemond,” her shoulders straightened as she looked up at him. His eye not afraid to hold her gaze, and she didn’t expect otherwise. He was the one made of stronger meddle, never allowing his emotions to breach his armour. Even when the accident happened, he stood strong for his mother, who had cracked so brilliantly under her grief. “It pleases me that you are doing well. I have heard you’ve been taking great care of Vhagar; she has chosen her rider well, it seems.”

She knew her words would wound her more fragile step-daughter, but it was the truth, and Rhaenyra sought to seek out peace with the brother she wronged the most. She loved Rhaena dearly, but she lacked the disposition for a beast like Vhagar. She might be the splitting image of her mother, Leana, but she did not have the same ferocity that it took to be a rider of Visenya Targaryen’s war-seasoned she-dragon. 

There was a ghost of a crooked smile on Aemond’s lip, though it was barely there to be noticeable by anyone else. He gave a nod of his head, and simply replied with: “Thank you, sister.”

Then there was the final brother, the one who she hadn’t met, who was, by all accounts, an actual stranger. And yet it was Daeron who greeted her with a smile wide and inviting, an infectious one that Rhaenyra reciprocated. 

“And who is this handsome young man before me?” She tilted her chin up at him, tall and gangly as he was. Daeron was toned and handsome, but still had yet to shed the softness of boyhood. 

“Sister!” Daeron all but launched himself into her arms, taking her off guard. Her hands hovered over his back, her eyes wide in her surprise. Aside from Helaena, Daeron was the second sibling she had ever hugged, and that thought brought up a sadness she had not realized she harboured. Her arms gently folded over his back, palm slowly moving up and down. “It is such a great pleasure to finally meet you at last, Rhaenyra.” 

When she pulled away, she could now see the resemblance she shared with him; their smile was similar, their eyes the same shade of violet. “It is a joy to see you too, Daeron. The last time I saw you, you were new to the world.”

Daeron bowed his head, and moved his hands to hold hers, “I wanted to give you my deepest condolences on your loss, sister. I cannot imagine your pain, but I have been praying to the Seven for you, hoping you may find peace.”

Rhaenyra gave him a sad smile, moving her hand to his cheek, “Thank you, my brother. I appreciate your warmth and kindness.”

While her sons greeted their step sisters warmly, the reception the girls and Joffrey gave their uncles and Queen was stiff, not unlike her own. Daeron, however, was pleasant, either oblivious to the tension or decided to rise above it. Either way, it was enough to ease the strain, at least with everyone other than Aegon and Aemond. Her two eldest brothers lingered on the fringes of the crowd, eyeing their estranged family warrily, only speaking when spoken to through tight smiles that didn’t meet their eyes, or curt nods. Rhaenyra was also painfully aware that they did not even look at each other, and whenever Alicent seemed to make a move towards Aegon, he would shoulder his way through the bodies to find someone or something to distract himself with.

Rhaenyra trailed over to her husband, standing at his shoulder, “Do you mind enlightening me about what is going on here?” Her question was directed to the obvious thick atmosphere. 

Daemon opened his mouth, but at that moment the doors opened and a Kingsguard announced the arrival of Lord Bartimos Celtigar, and his family. Instead he smiled broadly and turned to his wife, “I believe that should answer your question.” 

And just like that, Rhaenyra noticed the sudden shift in the room. She watched her brothers’ visible change in demeanor as the doors opened, and the Celtigars marched through in a line, eldest to youngest. Aemond’s back went ramrod straight, but his face seemed to soften, his lips the only thing moving with a slight twitch at the ends of his mouth. He was trying to contain himself, unlike Aegon who had moved away from the crowd so he could be on the front lines, grin uncontained, unashamed. 

Then Rhaenyra saw why, walking behind the tall, willowy Floris Grafton. The little figure of Valeana Celtigar appeared, wearing her family’s colours of red and white. Cheeks still soft and pink, hair impossibly long and white, but she was now older and womanly, and very distinctively Valyrian. 

Targaryen. 

The princess shared a look with Daemon, who was nothing but amused, “You’ve come just in time to witness a war of hearts between kin.”

Her only response was a tilt of her head, because before she could question more, Bartimos was in front of her, bowing his head. Another round of greetings were met, some a second time since Dragonstone, some for the very first time. Rhaenyra took special attention at the familiarity she saw between Daeron and Shyla, but when Aegon crowded Valeana the moment she separated from her family, Rhaenyra’s eyes were glued onto them. He whispered something in her ear, she smiled bashfully, but then her eyes flickered over to Aemond, who was watching her with his hands clasped behind his back, an unreadable emotion simmering behind his single eye.

Rhaenyra migrated over to Jacaerys, mind still lingering on the interaction between her two eldest brothers and Valeana, who now was meeting Rhaena and Beala for the first time in many years. 

“Is this the development you speak of?” She raised an eyebrow at him. 

Jace smirked, shaking his head, “Part of it, but no. Lady Valeana and I spoke at length yesterday… Once we get a moment, I wish to speak to you and Daemon about it. But suffice to say, mother, I do not believe she and I are compatible.” 

“Hm,” Rhaenyra pursed her lips before giving a small nod. “At least I know it has nothing to do with her appearance.” 

Jace scoffed in good humour, “No, not in the least.” 

The princess stopped herself from rolling her eyes. Instead she moved through the crowd of Valyrians to finally meet Valeana for the first time in a decade. When Baela spotted her step-mother’s presence, she stopped talking mid sentence, which made Valeana turn around after sensing her silent interruption. 

“Princess Rhaenyra,” she curtseyed with a polite smile, though the edges twitched at her attempt to contain a grin. It was clear that little Val still remembered the memories she shared with her, and for that, Rhaenyra was grateful, now more than ever. 

“Lady Valeana,” her hands reached out to hold onto the young woman’s, her smile full of fondness, though her eyes were pensive as she searched Valeana’s face, trying to find traces of herself, of her father. It was impossible to tell, Valeana looked like Lysa Lannister with silver hair and soft curves. Still, there could be a chance… A possibility that the girl in front of her was her sister. Rhaenyra swallowed at the thought. 

“You have blossomed into such a beautiful young woman.” her hands moved to the sides of her face, her thumbs gently rubbing her cheeks, “And perhaps a princess, by the end of this season.”

Valeana blushed deeply, her eyes flickering over Rhaenyra’s shoulder, to someone behind her, and then looked down shyly, “You flatter me, my Princess. Though I am not so sure if the title suits me as much as it does you, or Helaena.” 

Rhaenyra briefly recalled the conversion she had when the girl was barely older than babe, wiggling around in her arms, trying to get away from the princess’s affection. She turned around, spotting the faces of her brothers, both of whom quickly looked away from her when she made eye contact. Then she moved her eyes to her father, who caught it immediately, conveying many words with just the simple gesture.

Sighing, she turned back to Valeana, her hands now moving to the flow of her wavy white-gold hair, “It fits you more than you realize.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE SNEAK PEAK Narrowing her eyes, she decided to press further, a little more boldly, “Are there any more whispers about me?” At their collective confusion, she added, “Only because you two seem quieter than usual, and I’m starting to wonder if you’ve learned something unsavoury that I should be concerned about.”  Ellyn’s cheeks went pink, her eyes darting from Wylla, to the grass she was picking and peeling. They both shook their heads and cleared their throats. 

Notes: *IMPORTANT NOTE FOR NEXT WEEK* So, because next week is Christmas, there won't be an update next Saturday, because I'm going to be quite busy with family obligations, and I'm not gonna even have time/energy to proof read. So this is the last chapter of the year, and the next one will be out January 4th! But, I'll still be around, and hopefully by the next two weeks, I'll have pumped out a couple of chapters to get a head of my schedule so I can work on that sad Aegon One-Shot. In the mean time, I hope everyone has a happy, safe holiday and new year!!

Tag: @queen-of-elves, @keylin1730, @anakilusmos, @weepingfashionwritingplaid, @sugutoad, @desireangel, @t0biasparabatai

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[lanadelreylover11]

I feel like a virgin when I search up “x Reader” with a new character I like

[connorsui]

"How beautiful was she?"

"Was? ...please ..she is beautiful, but not like those girls in magazines. She is beautiful, for the way she thinks, She is beautiful for the sparkle in her eyes when she speaks about anything she loves. She is beautiful for her ability to make other people smile, even if she was sad. No, she wasn't beautiful for something as temporary as her looks. She is beautiful, deep down to her soul ....

She is the love of my life"

The man: Nanami Kento, Geto Suguru, John Price, Jason Todd, Sam Winchester, Higuruma Hiromi, Halsin, Astarion Zayne, Sylus, Xavier, Levi Ackerman, Simon Riley, Johnny Mactavish, Leon Kennedy, Aizawa, Dabi, Hawks, Rafayel, Cooper Howard, Logan Howlett, Aemond, Nikto,

[salma062022]

Sorry, I don't really understand how what I said could be the reason writers stop writing. I don't think anything I said was about writing or how they write. I just wish there were more non-Targaryen Reader fanfics. I didn't say anything negative about Targaryen Reader stories.

Pliss, I need more fanfic about GOT/HOTD where the reader isn't Targaryen or from any big houses. I know it's easier to write Targaryen reader, but almost all of them have the same plot and y/n. 😔

Please tell me I'm not the only one who hates it.🙏