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asumofwords · 1 year ago

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The Sublet - Roommate!AU

Warnings: She/her pronouns, slow burn, angst. Tags will be added as the fic goes along. Smut, P in V intercourse, daddy kink, dirty talk, praise, creampie, angst, fighting.

Pairings: Modern!Aemond x Reader

Summary: Living with Helaena Targaryen was one of the best decisions you had ever made. Meeting at university, the two of you became thick as thieves and quickly best friends, moving into a flat together. But what will happen when Helaena has to leave, and her quiet, brooding, brother moves in?

Notes: Hello my babies, sorry for the like 2 hour delay, I've been crying after watching Atonement for the first time. I am unwell. I don't think I will ever be okay again lmao, I had to go watch Pride and Prejudice to make me feel better. Anyway, Enjoy ;) <3

Chapter 8: Boiling Point

Cregan ended up staying the night. Nothing sexually happened, but instead the man had held you against him the entire evening and whispered words of praise to you, assuring you that you were okay, and that things would be fine.

When you woke the next morning, you had felt the need to apologise to Aemond, Cregan’s chat to you the night before still running laps in your mind. Aemond was not used to kindness, perhaps he didn’t know what to do with it, and if he wasn’t going to initiate the first steps, you might as well try.

You didn’t want to have to spend the rest of your month in an awkward tension with the man you were living with. It was up to Aemond if he wanted to respond to the olive branch you would extend.

You snuck out of bed to leave the Stark man, still sleeping, hair half over his face, chest rising and falling heavily, behind you. You shut the door quietly with a click, eyes flitting up to find Aemond’s door still closed.

Usually he was up by now.

You moved to the kitchen, making yourself a cup of tea, and a black coffee for Aemond. You weren’t sure how he took it, if he liked sugar or not, but decided that at least the attempt was worth something. Perhaps even speaking his own language, the tea he made you in the mornings your own interpretation of his civility. You hoped that the gesture portrayed the same meaning to him as it did to you.

But it was better than nothing.

You trudged to his door, tea and coffee in hand, steam winding its way off the two of them as you kicked softly at the wood in a knocking manner with your toes.

Knock Knock.

Silence was the only thing that you could hear from the other side of the door.

You knocked again, knock knock knock, shifting on your feet as you felt awkward and uncertain of what to do. You craned your head to look down the hall; His keys were still in the bowl.

Aemond was definitely in his room.

You tried to knock again, knock knock knock, watching the door knob expectantly, hoping to see it be turned and opened, but it didn’t. Taking it as a sign that he did not wish to be disturbed, you placed the mug of coffee on the floor in front of his door. You sighed in disappointment, but ultimately retreated into your room with your tail tucked between your legs.

If he wanted to speak with you, he would.

Cregan stirred in your bed, looking comically large in your sheets as he watched you enter, smiling at you sleepily. You put your tea on the bedside table, and crawled in beside him, his large palms pulling you against him almost immediately, tucking your head beneath his chin in habit. He yawned quietly and rubbed smoothing gestures up and down your back.

Your soft knocking must have woken him up. And yet, he did not exit his room.

You laid together in bed, drinking your tea as you strained your ears to hear if Aemond had exited his room, desperate to speak to him. You knew that he was in the wrong, that what he had said was inexcusable, but you had said some nasty things too, and after what Cregan told you the night before, it all made sense to you.

All his nastiness, bitterness, and sudden bouts of hot and cold all made sense, and with the added mystery of Alys, that was becoming less of a mystery to you now, you began to somewhat understand the man that was Aemond Targaryen.

It was hard to not sympathise with him. Hard to not try and understand the way that he was. The way he acted in the ways he did. How he was cold and aloof, not daring to let anyone close to him, and biting at anyone he deemed a threat; getting too close for comfort.

When you finally exited your room, Cregan sleepily following after you, you had given up waiting for anything to happen, for the sight of silver white hair to appear at your open bedroom door, or noises from within alert you to his movements. You walked past Aemond’s closed door, the now cold cup of coffee still sitting in front of it, steam long gone from the top, and a brown film having settled at the surface. You frowned at it, but opted to leave it.

You had tried, and it was proof of your effort.

Aemond could come to you when he was ready.

But after three days had passed, it seemed that Aemond was in fact not ready to talk to you, and had become more illusive than the Lochness Monster. You hadn’t seen his silver hair and mismatched eyes since that night, and a web of anxiety began to tug at your stomach again.

When you got home from work that day, you ran straight to the shower, frustration from Larys’ leering caused your shoulders to have tensed so terribly, that you felt an oncoming knot as you rode the train home. You stood under the shower for what could have been an hour, not caring if the hot water ran out, having it on the highest setting possibly, digging your knuckles into your trapezius to try and work out the stress.

By the time you had felt marginally calmer, your skin had wrinkled and pruned, and you had exited, spending extra time moisturising your body and fixing your hair, dressing into some pyjamas before you steadying yourself to face the music, making a promise to yourself that you would talk to him, and stay up all night if you had to.

Aemond would be better than Larys.

You hoped.

You cooked your dinner slowly, ears pricking to listen for the door and his return home, shifting occasionally to look over your shoulder in the hopes that he would appear silently in the lounge room as he sometimes did.

Anxiety and apprehension ate away at you, the ball of nervousness growing larger and larger the longer you waited. That nagging voice in the back of your head telling you to leave it, to just bask in the awkwardness of it all, but the other part of you longed for a connection with him, and to at least try to get through to him.

By the time you finished cooking, and ate your dinner in silence, keeping the TV on mute so that you could hear him approaching or if he tried to sneak back into the apartment, you had begun to grow rapidly tired, fingers digging into the sore muscle of your shoulder to try keep you awake.

It was nearing midnight when you finally heard the soft scraping of keys in the front door. You sat up straighter, turning your attention to the hallway as you listened to Aemond drop his keys into the bowl quietly and make his way down the hall.

His violet eye met yours and you watched breathlessly as he stilled, looking at you sitting straight and tall on the couch as you waited for him. And as you gazed at him, you felt your mouth go dry.

Aemond was in his black running shorts and running shoes, hair in a low and messy bun, the front of his hair slicked to his forehead from sweat. His silver chain was around his neck as it always was, glinting it the light of the room.

But that was it.

That’s all Aemond wore.

Aemond was shirtless.

His stomach rippled as it tensed, porcelain skin glistening with sweat, a soft pink blush spreading across his chest and up his neck. A heat settled in your gut as you looked at him, his chest rising and falling rapidly from exertion.

The man blinked, abruptly turning his head away from you as he went straight to the kitchen, pulling down a glass of water quietly from the cupboard, filling it in the sink. The sound of the tap was loud in your ears.

You stood shakily, nervous and unsure of how to approach the conversation. Or even approach him. You didn’t know how he was going to react. What he was going to say or do.

Would he reject you entirely? Turn nasty again?

Or would he stare at you impassively and boredly?

You cleared your throat, stupid lump of anxiety stuck in the back of it as you stepped around the small coffee table and into the kitchen. Aemond’s back was still to you, shoulder blades moving as he drank, the bones of his ribs wrapped tightly with lean muscles, chest expanding with a deep inhale.

“Hey, um. Can we talk?” You held your hands in front of your legs, turning your fingers against one another nervously.

Gods, why did he make you so nervous?

Aemond swallowed the water that was in his mouth, turning his head slightly to the side to indicate that he had heard you, though not audibly responding back, nor even moving to look at you, his back still to you as he moved to refill his glass again.

You opened your mouth to try again, to garner a reaction, a show that he was listening other than the slight tilt of his head like a parent who was disapproving of their child. But by the time you worked up the courage again to speak, the glass about half full, Aemond spoke.

“There’s nothing to talk about.” Came his low response, almost drowned out by the sound of the running water.

Oh for fucks sake.

“I think there’s plenty to talk about, actually.” You argued softly.

You took a sighing breath and continued, Here goes nothing, “I think that we both owe each other an apology.”

Aemond turned off the tap with more force than what was needed, “What?”

You sighed, watching as he turned around to face you, brows narrowed as he looked down his nose at you.

Was he surprised? Offended?

Why was he looking at you as though he didn’t understand your intentions?

You swallowed, “About the other night. I think we both said some things that we didn’t mean.”

Aemond’s jaw ticked, but he did not respond.

Why was he being like this?

You brushed your hair away from your face roughly, feeling small and vulnerable in front of him.

Desperate, His words rang in your ear.

“I think,” You licked your lips, not sure how to go forward, “I think that what happened was not okay. And what you said to me was not okay. But what I said to you, was definitely not right either.” Another deep breath, trying to stem the rambling confession.

Why was this so hard?

“And I wanted to apologise for that. I shouldn’t have brought her up, and I definitely shouldn’t have implied that you were at fault in your relationship with her. I don’t know what happened between the two of you, it’s none of my business, and I regret saying what I did.” You nibbled at your lip anxiously, watching as the Targaryen’s mouth twitched.

Silence curled around the two of you, and the longer you waited, the more you realised perhaps he thought you wished to continue. That perhaps he was waiting for you to say moe, or those two words that you felt suddenly begrudged to do.

“I’m sorry, Aemond. I was disrespectful and rude, but I was hurting. That’s not an excuse, but I think it's a bit of an explanation. Or at least, I hope it is.” You parroted Cregan’s words.

Not an excuse, an explanation.

You stared at him for what felt like forever, watching as he breathed shallowly, leant back against the bench, fingers twitching over his glass of water. He took a sip, and then another, and you watched as you thought he was finding the words to say, as though he was thinking of different ways to apologise to you, but by the time the glass became half full it became more and more apparent that Aemond had no intentions to say anything.

No apology.

No rebuttal.

No thanks.

Nothing.

Anger began to simmer inside of you.

“Are you going to say anything?”

Silence.

You shook your head sadly, pushing down the heat that rose in your chest, now was not the time to become angry, “I’m trying, Aemond. I’m really trying to be understanding, but you hurt me. You made me feel so used after what we did.” But the heat pushed its way through you; Shame, embarrassment, anger, “I don’t understand what I have done to warrant your anger. Please just tell me what I’ve done wrong so I can apologise and set things right. I don’t like this animosity between us, I don’t like feeling like I’m nothing in your eyes, that I’m lesser than or a nuisance.” You felt tears begin to build, “I don’t like feeling like I have to walk on eggshells in my own home, or that I have to worry about my roommates brother hating me. I don’t want Helaena to come home and have to deal with this mess.”

Aemond frowned deeply, setting down his glass on the kitchen bench, “I don’t hate you.”

Your brows cinched together in confusion, “Then why are you so cruel? You have been nothing but cold to me since you moved in. I’ve tried so hard to be nice, to-to include you in things I didn’t need to, but you give me nothing in return!”

Damn your anger. But you were wounded, and lashing out.

The silver haired man sucked his tongue loudly, “I don’t know what you want from me.”

“Want from you?” You were confused, “Aemond, I want you to treat me with some basic human decency, and maybe, if I’m really lucky, have you apologise for calling me desperate after we- what we did.”

Aemond’s eye dragged over your face, sliding down your chest to watch the way you heaved worked up breaths. And yet he still stayed silent, shifting on his feet uncomfortably as he looked down at you.

A wave of hurt crashed over your head, and you scoffed, “Unbelievable. I don’t know why I even bothered.” You spun on your heel, moving to make your way back to your room. To go hide. To not let him see the hurt or the shame that you felt. To curl into your sheets and just disappear.

You don’t know why you thought things could change, that he could be kinder.

You felt like a fool.

Aemond’s arm shot out and grabbed your wrist pulling you back to him. You turned, other hand trying to pry his fingers off of your wrist, the long digits not budging.

“If you would just wait a second, instead of storming off again.” He growled in annoyance.

You recoiled in his grip, “How much longer do you want me to embarrass myself as I wait for you to say two fucking words? It’s not that hard, Aemond.”

His eye narrowed, “This stuff doesn’t come easy to me, if you-“

“-Spoken like a true asshole. ‘Apologising isn’t something I ever do.’” You mocked his tone, “Let go of me, Aemond, I’m done. I’m not playing your little games anymore. You can fuck off for all I care.”

Aemond did not let go, “You think this is a game?”

“What else would it be?”

The Targaryen’s eye flicked back and forth on your face. Yet he said nothing.

Digging your fingers into his hand you tried to tug yourself from his grip angrily, “Let go of me.” You tried to pull your wrist away again, Aemond’s grip getting tighter, “I said-“

“-I’m sorry.” Aemond spoke quietly.

You stared at him angrily, hand dropping from his own that gripped your wrist.

“For?”

Aemond’s lip twitched, “For being a dick.”

“All together now.” You encouraged him, staring up at him in anger.

A brow lifted on his face as he looked down at you, “Now look who’s being the dick. I’m trying to apologise to you.”

“Shit fucking apology.” You snapped.

Aemond ran a hand through the front of his hair, messed and slick tresses sticking up in different ways, and yet he still looked ruggish- NO, “I don’t know what you want from me, Y/n. I’m sorry, okay? You didn’t deserve that. I was a dick, and you didn’t deserve that.”

“You were. You were- sorry- are a fucking asshole who treats everyone around him like they’re beneath his designer shoe.”

“I don-“

“-‘I don’t’. You don’t know much do you?”

Aemond’s jaw ticked, “Look,” He all but growled, “I’m trying-“

“You’re not trying hard enough.”

You don’t know why you kept at it. You don’t know why you were provoking him, pushing him, not taking his shitty little apology and calling it a day, but it was just that. A shitty little apology, and it felt like there was no meaning behind the words nor promise of change. Like a chore he had been tasked to do.

He just made you so angry, all the damn time. His arrogance, his cock sure smirk, the way he even held himself. It was infuriating. Intoxicating. It-

No. Stop it.

The hand around your wrist tightened, and you watched as Aemond’s chest rose and fell sharply, cheek twitching. His face hardened as he looked down at you, and the tiny voice in the back of your brain screamed ‘Predator! Run!’

But you didn’t.

“What else do you want me to do?” He said lowly, pushing himself off of the kitchen bench, his chest bumping into yours, “You want me to get on my knees and beg for forgiveness?”

You don’t know why you said it, you don’t know why your brain even reacted the way it did, but there was something about Aemond that made you want to push him. Made you want to see him react.

And so you goaded him.

“Yes.”

The tall silver haired man pressed a tongue in his cheek, “You want me to react, don’t you? Such a brat.”

You blinked.

Fuck.

Aemond’s lip twitched as he watched you blanch, his head tilting to look down at you with his lone seeing eye. It sent shivers down your spine, and your core clenched instinctually around nothing.

“You just keep being a bratty little bitch so that I be a dick to you, huh? Did you even want an apology? Or did you want me to put you in your place? Finish what we started?”

You opened your mouth to argue, to make a point that you did want that apology, but Aemond pulled you forward with his grip on your wrist, the other hand gripping the back of your neck, crashing his lips against yours.

It was all teeth and desperation, nipping at each other, pulling at each others hair, hands gripping each other roughly. It was a culmination of the tension, the elastic band that had been stretched out, pulled so taut that it finally snapped back.

Aemond tasted like smoke and water, tongue dipping into your mouth to taste you, holding his mouth against yours, groaning into your lips as he held you, the both of you fighting for dominance. You pulled at his bottom lip with your teeth sharply, pressing your body up against him.

Long fingers dipped under your sleep shirt, pulling it up and over your head, the top forgotten on the tiled kitchen floor, a chill spreading across your chest as you leant into him for warmth. Aemond’s hands skated up your sides, coming to cup your breasts, thumbs flicking teasingly over your nipples. You moaned into his mouth, nipples stiffening into peaks.

Aemond’s hands were so large you noted as he held you, and you mewled quietly into his mouth as his hands skated sideways, covering your ribs entirely as he spun you around, lifting you with little effort to sit you on the kitchen bench.

The kiss was broken as you were lifted, his lips trailing down your neck to the valley of your breasts, pressing a teasing kiss to your sternum before moving to lap at a nipple with his tongue. Your hands flew to the back of his head, pressing him against you as you hissed, feeling his teeth graze over the stiffened peak.

“Fuck.” You whined.

Aemond slotted himself between your thighs, your legs instinctually wrapping around him to bring him closer. You could feel his hard length against your inner thigh as he rolled his hips, swapping to the other breast to pay it the same attention as the other, whilst a hand slid down your body to cup your core softly. Your hips rolled into his hand, desperate for more, desperate to get the friction you so desperately needed.

And yet he kept his hand still, just cupping you.

Teasing you.

“Please.” You begged, rolling your hips again into his palm, grasping his wrist to try and move his hand to dip beneath your pyjama shorts.

Aemond chuckled against your chest, moving away from the sensitive nipple with a flick of his tongue which sent your back arching into him, “So needy.”

You growled in annoyance, hands moving to the front of his pants, hoping that it would speed him along. As soon as your hand grazed his length, your eyes widened, looking down.

He was big.

Really big.

“Oh.” You said quietly, blush erupting on your cheeks, looking down at the long and thick outline in his pants, “Fuck.”

Those sweatpants had done him a disservice.

Aemond looked down at you hungrily, pupil blown wide with lust and lips reddened from your kiss. His eye dropped down to where your gaze had fallen, one finger tracing up and down his length, a shiver running over his body.

He grabbed your chin, crashing his lips to yours again as he ground into your palm, his hands coming to shimmy his pants down his hips, kicking them off, his cock slapping against his stomach, heavy with want. He toed his shoes and socks of next in a rush, pants falling from his mouth. Your palm gripped him tightly, moving from base to tip as he sighed into you. He was hot in your pam, long and girthy, with the tip wet with his arousal.

As you gripped him you realised just how large the man was. It was always the skinny white boys that were equipped with cocks like this, you thought. So unsuspecting in their lean stature, but their missing body mass had to go somewhere you supposed.

Aemond was no exception to the rule.

Your hand could barely wrap around it.

You wondered briefly if it would even fit.

Aemond pulled backwards as you whined desperately at the loss of him, but the disappointment was short lived as his hands gripped your hips and ripped your shorts off in one swift movement before slotting himself back between your thighs, yanking you to the edge of the bench. His length lined up with your soaked core, rubbing his tip through your folds to gather the slick at your entrance.

Aemond wasted no time, too impatient and pent up to wait or even prepare you, and so he pushed inside of you with one swift thrust.

You had never felt so full in your life.

You moaned loudly, head thrown back as you felt the stretch of him, his length splitting you apart and filling you entirely. Each inch of him pressed deliciously against your walls as you breathed heavily, eyes dropping back to his face.

Aemond stilled for one moment, a moment of mercy, to give you time to accommodate to his size, but that second of kindness was short lived, and the man gripped your hips bruisingly, pulling out slowly, so that you could feel every ridge and vein, before diving back into your centre with long and harsh rut.

You cried out loudly, hands gripping his shoulders as Aemond began to fuck into you at a brutal pace, not once slowing as his length bullied every inch of your walls. The kitchen was filled with the sound of his hips clapping against yours, the lewd slick wet of your folds and the moans and whines that dripped from your lips like honey.

It was nothing like you had ever felt before.

Where Cregan was large, Aemond was larger, longer in length that reached deeper and further than the other man, each thrust caused blooming pleasure to shoot up into your gut, warmth winding down your limbs.

You gripped the back of Aemond’s head and pulled him down, biting at his lips and kissing him angrily, still all teeth and spite, pouring your frustration into him with every nip or press of your lips against his despite the pleasure he was bringing you.

One hand left your hip and gripped the back of your neck, fingers winding into the hair at the nape of your neck tightly, before squeezing the sides of your neck, little bits of pain sprinkling down your spine as he held you forcefully.

Aemond broke away from the kiss, pressing his forehead against yours as he looked down to watch where you were joined. The entire length of his cock was slick with your arousal, pooling between your cheeks and the kitchen bench below, dripping down to his sack.

You had never been so wet in your life.

Oh Gods.

“Fuck, fuck.” You keened, hands gripping his shoulders so tightly you were sure it would bruise, nails digging into his skin, leaving tiny half moons in his flesh, as you felt the coil within wind embarrassingly quick.

Aemond grunted, “You gonna cum?”

You nodded your head shakily, motion stunted with his grip at the back of your neck.

“Good. Want to feel you cumming on my cock. Fuck.”

Your knuckles ached from how you were holding onto him, and with each sharp and fast thrust, Aemond’s tip bullied your g-spot, sparks of pleasure exploding behind your eyes, your release barrelling towards you so quickly it was just within reach.

“So fucking tight.” Aemond panted, “Such a perfect little pussy. Fuck, such a good girl.”

You sighed dreamily at the praise, walls gripping him tightly.

Aemond hissed, “You like that, huh? You like being my good girl? Being such a good girl for daddy, taking his cock so well.” Aemond sucked in another hiss, “Look at you.”

Your bit your lip and hummed, eyes half hooded in lust as you tilted your hips forward towards him, your peak beginning to take over.

“There you go, good girl. Good girl, cum on my cock, come on. Fuck. So pretty.” He praised you, thrusts becoming more brutal, “You’re so fucking pretty, little pussy stretched out on my cock. Looking so fucking pretty like that.”

You moaned needle, whimpering as his length buried into you unforgivingly, “You like daddy’s cock, baby? Huh? Yeah you do.”

His words crashed over you, core fluttering around him as you dumbly nodded your head at him, small mewls and ‘yes’’ falling from your lips with ease.

“Be a good girl and cum on daddy’s cock.” Fingers began to swirl on your bud, dragging you dangerously close to the edge, “Come on baby, I know you can do it, can feel you getting so tight.”

Your moans grew loudly, pants and sobs falling from your lips as Aemond continued to thrust into your soaked core, finger swirling roughly on you to drag you closer to climax, “Such a pretty dumb little baby, aren’t you? Want you to fucking soak me.”

Pleasure exploded within you, winding up your body powerfully as you shook in his grip, Aemond’s hips stuttering slightly as he fucked you through your release, a long and high pitched moan being ripped from your chest.

“Fuck, good girl. Cum on daddy’s cock. Fuck you feel so good, fuck.” Your walls clenched around him, feeling each drag of his length against your sensitive walls, “There you are, such a good baby, such a pretty little girl aren’t you?”

Aemond rutted into your heat furiously, chasing his own peak, pace becoming sloppier as his stomach tensed, muscles rippling up his chest and down his back, “Fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

Aemond’s thrusts stuttered, “Where- Where-“

You blinked up at him, eyelids heavy, “Inside me. Please daddy.”

Aemond’s hips stuttered, “Fuck, gonna fill this pretty little pussy.” He thrust inside rapidly, prolonging your pleasure as breathless mewls were ripped out of you.

Aemond bent over you, brows furrowing as his lips parted, panting as he reached his peak, a ragged moan falling from his lips as he pushed to his limit inside of you, warmth filling you as his thick ropes of his seed coated your walls.

You breathed heavily beneath him, core clenching around his length in aftershocks as you felt him fill you up. Tingles spread through you as you both came down from your highs, your body feeling like it was floating.

You gazed up at him through your lashes. Aemond’s head was tilted down, plump reddened lips slightly parted with his seeing eye shut. His long white lashes fluttering against his cheek as he breathed.

Your chest clenched as you looked at him.

Fuck.

He is so pretty.

The pink of his tongue came out to wet is lips as he looked back up at you, a small smile winding on his face, “You ok?”

You nodded sluggishly, feeling the hand at the back of your neck loosen its grip, smoothing the muscle in soft circles that made your eyes slip shut. Aemond continued for a moment longer before moving his hand to the side of your face, brushing the hair that had fallen across your cheeks and forehead away from your face soothingly.

You hummed quietly and leant your face in his palm, calloused fingers cupping your cheek as he moved to press a soft kiss against your lips. You squirmed under his touch, heat blooming inside of you again as your walls clamped down on him. Aemond chuckled into your mouth, pulling away to press another kiss on your cheek.

“You did good, baby. So good.” He praised you, and you felt heat flood your cheeks as you looked at him, warmth spreading across your chest and want coursing through you. You smiled up at him shyly, keening, pressing a kiss into his palm.

Large hands skated down your arms as you felt the buzz of your release, Aemond cock still twitching inside of you as your mind felt hazy. Aemond kneaded your ass in his hands as he pulled you closer to him, his length pressing snugly against your cervix.

In one swift movement he lifted you up into his arms, a small squeak breaking from your lips as he turned your around and carried you to your bedroom, cock still nestled inside of you. Each step caused his tip to press into you, pleasure simmering through you. You shifted and wriggled in his hold the entire time.

Aemond hissed as he opened your bedroom door, dragging his hips back to pull out of you. You immediately felt empty and whined at the loss, feeling a trickle of warmth escape your core and into the crux of your thighs. Aemond hushed you as he bent down, lowering you to the bed.

A feeling of anxiety prickled in your chest as he stood to his full height.

He was going to leave again.

And then he was going to be an asshole to you once more.

How could you be so stupid, how could-

“I'll be right back.” Aemond reassured you, bending down to press a kiss atop your head, leaving your room.

You heard the linen closet open and close, and then the soft hum of water in the bathroom running. You waited anxiously, shifting on the bed as you felt a trickle of his cum and the warmth of your own release begin to leak from you.

Aemond returned to your room in no time, face cloth in hand. He made his way over to you slowly, looking down at you on the bed. “Lay back.” He said quietly, air of dominance still around him though softer this time.

You obeyed, and laid down against the plush of the pillows on your bed, feeling exhaustion begin to wind its way up inside of you. Limbs feeling like lead and body buzzing with the warmth fo your peak.

Aemond pressed the warm wet cloth between your thighs, cleaning you of your combined releases that lay sticky and slick to your inner thighs. He was careful to not press too hard, wary of your sensitivity, and once he was done, he chucked the cloth into your laundry basket, tucking you beneath the sheets.

He stood to leave the room, but your hand reached out to grab his wrist. You caught him just barely, fingers gathering the grip to hold him to you. His skin was warm, and he looked down at you slowly, the softness of his face gone, and the cool mask you had grown to know slipping in place.

“Stay.” You whispered into the dark of the room.

Aemond shifted, your thumb rubbing against his inner wrist softly, soothingly, trying to tempt him to hold you.

“I can’t.” Came his quiet response, so very quiet in the already still room, the sounds of the city having faded away.

“Why?”

His head ducked down, pressing a kiss against your hair line, “Shh. Rest.”

“But-“

“-Rest. You need to sleep.”

You swallowed thickly, the pit in your gut sinking further, but the way he was looking at you was uncertain. Like a skittish animal ready to take flight, as though he was reserving something within, and it all showed in his violet eye.

“You’ve been good, so good. Now get some sleep, you have work in the morning.”

You didn’t have it within you to fight him, to battle it or argue, and so with a nod of your head, you slid further beneath the sheets, releasing the grip on his hand. You watched as he turned to walk out of the room, hand from the wrist you had grabbed flexing outwardly before he shut the door quietly behind him.

When you woke that morning you had expected to see him, having woken up earlier than usual in the hopes of catching him before he moved to his instinctual and habitual run. But Aemond had woken far earlier that morning, and you had to tell yourself to not let your heart skip the way it did when you noticed his absence.

As you dressed and readied for work, and moved to the kitchen as you always did, there it was.

Your steaming mug of tea.

Ready to be drunk by you, and made by the man you still did not quite understand perfectly.

It was as if every time he even let a brick of his walls down, he would put them back up, and install reinforcements. As though he struggled to let anyone in, or feared to. You had chalked it up to his upbringing with the strange dynamic that was the Hightower/Targaryen family, or perhaps there was more to what had happened with him and Alys.

The day went slowly as you had expected it to do, and by the time you had gotten home, Aemond was there, loose shirt and baggy pants, bent over the stove as he cooked dinner. His music, as usual, played loudly in the kitchen, what had surprised you however was the familiar tune of Lana Del Rey’s - Shades Of Cool playing through your speaker.

Huh.

You didn’t take him as a Lana fan.

You greeted him from behind cautiously, careful to not startle the man from running away from you again. He had turned slowly, as though he had anticipated your arrival, no doubt by the time you finished work and got home as per usual, creature of weekly habit you were, and had given you a small but kind smile.

You sidled up beside him as he cooked, and told him about your day, and he had told you bare footnotes about his. Aemond had apparently discovered a new bookstore that day, and you had made him promise to take you soon.

It was odd.

The air around you was charged but neither of you acted upon it, or pointed out, the both of you all too eager to let it extend for the time that it was there. Aemond did not push you away, and you did not push him to anger.

You ate dinner together, watching television, the tension ripe with the elephant in the room, but neither one of you broached on the topic of what had happened the night before, or how the dynamic between the two of you had clearly shifted.

When dinner was over, you had helped him to pack the dishwasher and insisted on him sitting on the couch and to wait for you. You dug into the back of the freezer where your favourite ice cream tub sat, and pulled two large spoons from the drawer.

“Here.” You handed him a spoon, sitting beside him on the couch, closer than usual, hips and thighs connected and a smile on your face.

Aemond took the spoon and looked at the tub, watching as you took the lid off and chucked it on the coffee table in front of you, curling your legs up beneath you and offering him the first scoop. He scooped a generous spoon and dipped it into his mouth, humming as his tongue curled to lick the remainder of the icecream off of the spoon. You licked your lips subtly, shifting in your seat.

Gods damn him.

“It's good.” He mused, dipping another spoon in, “Probably one of my favourites.”

“Really?” Your heart raced in your chest, “Mine too. I have to hide it in the back of the fridge when Helaena gets high. She will demolish the whole tub in seconds if you blink.” You giggled at the memory of smoking with your best friend, going to shower, and coming back to her on the couch with an empty tub of ice cream.

“Sounds like Hel.” Aemond chuckled.

You leant against him for the remainder of the night, watching tv, tub of ice cream finished between the two of you, sticky spoons stuck against the coffee tables surface, forgotten. At one point his arm had lifted and tucked over your shoulder, pulling you further into his side.

Your heart raced at first, stomach doing flips, but soon you settled into it, head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart, his scent curling around you warmly. It was nice to not be bickering, to see him let one of his many walls down for however long it would last.

But as usual, nothing lasts forever.

Because as you were tucked to his side, the softness of his fingers skating over your skin, you could not help but think of what this meant.

What this was.

What it would be.

With Cregan it was cut dry, there was no lingering feelings there anymore on either side, and it felt normal, comfortable, but your heart didn’t race if he held your hand, or kissed the side of your face, and it certainly didn’t race when he would cuddle up to watch a movie with you and Hel.

With Cregan it was simple. But Aemond? That was something else. Your heart did race when he touched you, and right now, you prayed to the Gods that he couldn’t hear it beating like a drum in your chest.

But it wasn’t just the small touches, it was his proximity too. When he would reach over your head in the kitchen to grab something from the cupboard. When he would sit just that smidge closer to you on the couch. How he had been so near to you in the kitchen as you fought.

Because no matter what he did, whether he was being quiet, or brooding, or snarky, or his rarer and more fleeting moments of kindness, your heart would race. Your cheeks would heat and this warmth in your gut would settle heavily. And it was then that you knew you were fucked.

You didn’t know what to do, his hand on your arm, stroking up and down softly making your mind run a million miles an hour.

Did you ask what this was?

What you were?

Surely he felt what you felt. It was different. It was more. There was more to this than something casual, more to this than some convenient fuck of your best friends brother. Because there was danger to this, a risk that you had both taken. There was things that you could both loose from this. Losses that mounted higher with each moment you sat together in silence.

You had only fucked once, almost twice if you counted the first time in the kitchen. So why did it already feel like something more?

Sitting in your questions, you felt Aemond shift, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. Your heart leapt into your throat.

“It’s getting late. I’m going to go to bed.” He told you, removing his arm from you as he stood up. You watched him give you a controlled and small smile, clipped at the corners of his mouth, before he moved to walk away, disappearing down the hall and into his room with a click of his door.

But it was the way that he smiled at you that settled an uncomfortable feeling in your stomach. It felt like he was separating himself from you again. And so you went after him, jumping up from your seat to follow him down the hall, opening his door to see him already sitting on the edge of his bed head in his hands.

His face lifted, looking straight at you as you stood in the doorway, shifting from one foot to the other. His head cocked to the side, brows slightly furrowing as you looked at him, gnawing at your lip as you fought for the words to say.

“Last night-“ You began, twisting your hands together at your front.

“-Was a mistake, I know.”

You blinked, swallowing dryly.

What?

“A mistake?” You furrowed your brows.

Aemond’s mask slid back into place, cold gaze looking up are you as he spoke, “We shouldn’t have done that. You’re Helaena’s best friend. It was wrong of me.”

It felt as though he had slid a dagger between your ribs, “Why?”

“Because it’s not going to work out the way you think.”

He was pushing you away again.

“And what way do I think it will work out?”

“That this will be more than what it was.”

You blanched, “What?” Irritation began to spoil in your gut.

Why did he always do this? Why did he always get these reactions from you?

“I can’t give you what you want.”

“Do you think I expect flowers and declarations of love after that?” The words felt bitter on your tongue, heart aching in your chest, battling the tears in your eyes, “I was under no illusion that it would be more.”

Aemond’s brows raised in a mocking way, lips pulled down into a frown, “Are you sure?”

Anger soared through you, “Fuck you, you arrogant prick.”

“See,” A long hand lazily flicked up at you, “You’re already hurt. I didn’t want this.”

Didn’t want this.

You sniffed, “It’s because you’re being a complete fucking asshole.”

The silver haired man pushed an irritated tongue into his cheek as he shifted on the bed, turning his entire body towards you and sneered, “And what do you want me to do? You knew who I was when you fucked me. Did you think you could get my cock wet and I would change? Be a better man? Be the man who Cregan can’t be for you?”

Your mouth gaped, shock spreading across your chest, “Don’t bring him into this. He has nothing to do with this.”

Aemond scoffed loudly, rolling his eye up to the ceiling, “You don’t think that your boy toy loves you? Have you seen the way he looks at you? You’re dragging him along for a ride whilst you fuck me on the side.”

“What me and Cregan do is none of your fucking business. And you’re the one to talk, what about Alys? Are you not dragging me along on the side?”

“Don’t.”

The air in the room went icy.

But the heat and anger inside pushed you forward, “So, what? You can bring up Cregan but I can’t bring up her? Tit for tat, Aemond.” You spat.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Anger exploded within, “And neither do you! You have been so incredibly rude to Cregan, who has given you nothing but the benefit of the doubt and kindness that you certainly don’t deserve. You know he even told me to be nicer to you. You?!” You watched as Aemond frowned, “You are the most judgemental man I have ever fucking met. You sulk in your room all day or on runs, take cheap shots at everyone around you when they even try to be nice to you, and make it almost impossible for anyone to like you.”

The sneer fell from Aemond’s lips, “I don’t need anyone to like me.”

You sighed, “That's your problem, Aemond! You’re isolating yourself for no other reason than that you’re afraid.”

“I’m not afraid.”

You took a step towards him, watching as he looked you over warily, “Yes you are. You’re afraid to let anyone get close to you. What happened to you as a kid-“

“-What do you know about what happened to me?” The sneer was back.

Fuck.

“Nothing! That’s the point. You don’t let anyone in, but I’m trying to be your friend.”

“I don’t need friends.”

A pang of sadness spread across your chest, “Everyone needs friends.” You shook your head sadly, “Aemond, I’m not doing this with you again. I can’t keep doing this when all you do is push me away. It’s like fighting with a brick wall and it’s hurting me more than its being productive. I’m trying to be nice to you, I want to be your friend, Aemond. But if you don’t want to accept that people can be nice to you, that I can be nice to you, then that’s something you need to work through alone.”

Aemond’s back straightened on the bed, as though he was about to stand, but shook his head instead, pushing his hands into the mattress as though to keep him there, “You don’t really like me. You just want to fuck me to make Cregan jealous.”

You frowned, “Is that all you think this is?”

Silence.

Your chest clenched sadly.

You sighed, “Goodnight, Aemond. I really hope that you think about this before you go to sleep, because I can’t keep doing this with you.”

Thanks so much for reading along with me, if you wish to be added to the tag list please let me know :) Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated ! Enjoy <3

Taglist:

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luvangelbreak · 10 months ago

Note

pls do something based on chris’s birthmark / waist… 😭 i cant

Touch

christopher sturniolo x alice reyna (female!oc) summary: chris and alice have been friends for 6 months and dating for 3 months but alice has never noticed his birthmark. warnings: swearing, very suggestive, fluff? word count: 1.5k a/n: this request is kinda vague so i tried my best to work with what i had LMAO. this one is kinda short but i hope u like it <3

not proofread!

It was the first hot day in months and Alice had convinced Chris, Nick and Matt to go to Malibu with her. By the time they arrived at the beach, getting themselves situated on the sand, it was about 6 pm and the heat of the day was beaming down on them.

"Ali," Nick said grabbing Alice's attention and she spun around after laying her towel flat on the ground, "Do you have the sunscreen?"

"Yeah, here," she nodded, grabbing it out of her handbag and throwing the bottle to Nick who quickly started covering himself in the protective liquid. She quickly tied her hair up into a ponytail to keep it out of her face before she slid off her t-shirt and shorts.

"It's so fucking hot," Matt groaned, sliding off his shirt and sitting down on his towel beside Nick. Alice nodded in agreement as Chris took the black cap off of his head, throwing it onto Alice's bag.

"Fuck this. I'm going straight to the water," Alice announced, throwing her phone on top of her bag before she jogged down the beach. Her feet reached the water, the coldness giving her immediate relief and she instantly ran in, the water reaching her shoulders.

She heard a splash behind her and she turned around to see her boyfriend appear from under the water behind her. He shook his head, shaking the water off of his hair like a dog making her raise her hand to avoid water getting in her eyes.

"Hey," Chris said smoothly, swimming towards her as she smiled at him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders as he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her closer, "You look pretty, ma."

"You look like a wet dog with this hair," she giggled at him, swiping a few pieces of his wet hair off of his face. He once again shook his head, making her face scrunch as she turned away from him, "Asshole."

"You love me," he mumbled, leaning forward and pressing a delicate kiss to her lips making her melt into him. She pushed her feet off of the ocean floor, wrapping her legs around his waist and he moved his hands to hold her up by her thighs.

"You're lucky you're cute because you're a fucking idiot," she mumbled against his lips with a smile making him return the facial expression, squeezing her thighs and she squeaked, "Chris. We're in public."

"How am I supposed to not touch you when you look this good?" he asked rhetorically with a smirk and she rolled her eyes, pretending to be annoyed.

She was never truly annoyed with how clingy he was, in fact, she loved it. Whenever they were together, they would be touching in one way or another. Chris always wanted to be close to her, to feel her skin on his. He was like that with his friends, he loved being physically close with anyone he loved and cared about but it was a whole new level with Alice. He couldn't resist squeezing her waist or grabbing her ass, no matter if they were in public or not.

"Alright love birds. Stop fucking in the water," they heard Matt's voice appear beside them and they looked over to see him dip under the water getting his hair wet. Soon enough, Nick joined them in the water and they all swam around until their legs got tired, their arms hurting from splashing heaping amounts of water at each other.

They began walking out of the water and Nick spoke up, "You guys wanna get ice cream?"

"I'm beat. You guys can go," Alice answered tiredly as she walked across the sand.

"I'll come," Matt shrugged to Nick and they all looked at Chris whose mind seemed somewhere else, "Chris?"

"Huh?" he asked, turning to see they were all staring at him.

"You wanna come with me and Nick to get ice cream?" Matt asked, used to his brother zoning out by now and Chris shook his head, stopping right beside his towel.

"I'm tired. I'll wait with Ali," he explained, grabbing the towel off the sand and shaking it off before wrapping it around his shoulders, drying off his hair as best he could.

"You want us to bring any back?" Nick asked, sliding his t-shirt on his torso as Matt slung his t-shirt over his shoulder.

"I'm good," Alice responded and Chris shook his head. Matt and Nick grabbed what they needed before bidding their farewells, promising that they'd be back soon. Alice plopped herself down on her towel, her legs spread out in front of her as she leaned back on her palms.

Her boyfriend decided to push her knees apart and place himself between them, his back to her as he looked out at the sea. Alice smiled at his actions, his clinginess showing once again. She scanned his hair and trailed her eyes along his neck and shoulders. She loved every inch of him but she'd realised she never paid much mind to his back.

Her eyes took in every detail, freckles and all. It was only then that she noticed a round birthmark the size of a bottle cap on his lower back. She leaned forward, taking one of her hands and running her fingertips along the birthmark making him jump.

"I didn't know you had a birthmark," she said softly and he spun around to look at her, a smile on his lips.

"It's how our parents used to tell me and Matt apart when we were babies," he explained and she nodded, her fingertips delicately trailing his flesh raising goosebumps on the skin.

She leaned forward, placing her chin on his shoulder as she wrapped her arms around his waist, pulling him closer to her. She liked that Chris didn't necessarily care about being the big or little spoon, he just wanted to be close to her in any way he could and if that meant he was the little spoon, he was happy as a clam.

"I love you so much," she mumbled, placing a kiss on his shoulder and he leaned his head back on her shoulder, turning his head to meet her lips with his.

"I love you, ma," he smiled against her and she had butterflies on her stomach once again, this moment somehow feeling private and intimate despite the amount of people on the beach with them.

"I love your hair and your eyes. I love your nose, your lips, your jaw," she gently kissed his jaw making his eyes flutter close as he placed his hands on her forearms that were still around his torso, "I love your neck and shoulders and arms. And your hands, god your hands."

He chuckled, opening his eyes to look at her with a love-filled gaze, "You're really gassing me up here."

"I'm not done," she quipped making him smile once again, "I love your chest and your back. I love your waist," she squeezed his sides lightly making him let out a heavy breath, "And your hips. Your thighs are better than mine."

"Not true," he mumbled, his gaze fixated on her face that was illuminated by the sun that was slowly falling closer to the horizon.

"Very true," she retorted making him shake his head, "I never knew I could love a person's legs but here we are. Fuck your feet though. I will never love anyone's feet."

"That's so rude," he frowned at her with a fake pout making her roll her eyes with a smile, "I love your feet."

"That's because your fucking weird," she teased him as she squeezed his waist again making his eye flutter closed.

"I like it when you do that," he whispered, his hard demeanour completely disappearing when it was just the two of them.

"This?" she asked before gripping his waist gently once more and he hummed in response as she bit her lip, "Well we are in public so maybe we'll wait till we're back at yours before you start humping the air."

He whined out of aggravation, opening his eyes to look up at her again, "But it feels nice."

He pouted at her once again and she shook her head, placing another kiss on his lips before saying, "It feels nice because you're horny. I can see you getting hard, baby. I'm not doing it again."

He pursed his lips, grabbing his towel which was behind his back and pulling it over his lap making her giggle.

"I wanna go home now," Chris rolled his eyes and she chuckled at him once again. She decided to tease him a little bit now that the towel was over his lap and she ran her fingertips softly along his waist.

"You're gonna have to wait," she said softly before placing a kiss on his jaw and gripping his waist once again, eliciting a groan from him as he slid down further.

"Fuck you," he frowned up at her and she gave him a sly smirk, kissing his lips gently before looking into his blue eyes being illuminated by the sun.

"Yeah, I know you want to," she giggled before looking up, seeing his brothers approaching them with ice creams in hand, "Pull yourself together. They're back."

#matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #matthew bernard sturniolo #matt sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo #the sturniolo triplets #sturniolo imagine #sturniolo edit #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo smut #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #nick sturniolo #christopher owen sturniolo #matt sturniolo smut #sturniolo x reader

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randomdragonfires · 1 month ago

Text

Time Can't Stop Me Quite Like You Did - The Other Woman [SNEAK PEEK]

Oh, and there was a woman.

WORD COUNT | 3.5k (and it's only a sneak peek ffs)

Author's Note | Hello everyone! So I am working on a relatively short 10k word chapter that is centred around Alys and Aemond from this story. How they came to be, what it is that they talk about... just the general progression of their relationship.

What follows is the first scene of that interlude chapter. The full thing should be up soon, following which I'll begin the final chapter. You'll see mentions, the ghost of Wylde - but for obvious reasons, Alysmond is the star of the next update.

Be warned. I see that many don't take well to the Alys and Aemond pairing - I will not appreciate any hate being thrown towards me or the story. There's always a civil way to say things. The strong reactions to their pairing is what kept me away from continuing it immediately in the first place, but mama didn't raise a quitter so here we are lmao

MORE THAN A YEAR AGO - AEMOND POV

"Of course I'm here. It’s summer vacation, and it’s only one of the biggest art gallery openings in the country," Wylde said with a grin. He was still new to Oldtown, while she was heading into her final year of school at King’s Landing—but they both knew where they belonged in the world. He would eventually take his place at the top, running one of the oldest commercial institutions in the realm. She would become a prominent socialite, wielding her family’s art connections with pride and skill, possibly on the arm of one of the men in this room.

For a fleeting moment back home, he had wished that man would be him. But that had passed—or so he liked to believe.

"Hm."

"Anyway, I have to make my rounds, shake hands," she sighed, as if already exhausted by the thought. "Most of them will try to get to my father through me, hoping for a chance at our family’s paintings for their displays." She paused, her expression softening. "My plane to King’s Landing leaves soon after, so I might not catch you to say goodbye, okay?"

She leaned in on the tips of her toes, instinctively brushing her lips against his cheek, a gesture so familiar it felt natural. His skin warmed under her touch as he held onto her for a moment, before letting her go and watching her slip into the crowd.

"It was nice to see you, Aemond," she said, giving him one last smile before she disappeared among the other guests.

He watched as the crowd welcomed her with open arms. And why wouldn’t they?

Aemond stood quietly near the back of the gallery, his head turned as he swirled his wine and pretended to be interested in the pieces around him. But his focus had already drifted.

From across the room, she had become the only thing he could think about.

She was magnetic in a way that defied simple description. It wasn’t just her beauty, though he could hardly deny that. There was something in the way she moved - fluid, deliberate, as if every gesture, every glance, was part of a conversation only she knew how to conduct. Aemond watched as she floated through the crowd with an easy grace, her black dress brushing the tops of her heels - not revealing, but just enough.

But it wasn’t her appearance that intrigued him the most. It was her detachment. The way she seemed to occupy the room and yet remain entirely separate from it. Like she knew she was better than the herd. How can she possibly not? He knew it, and he’d barely seen her for ten minutes.

He studied her carefully, trying to decode the way she interacted with her surroundings. The other guests barely held her interest, even her husband - Brynden Rivers, the artist on feature - who was basking in the attention of his admirers, seemed peripheral to her thoughts. She would smile and nod at the right moments, offering polite responses when addressed, but her eyes - sharp, dark, endlessly curious - always strayed back to the art. It was as though she were in search of something she hadn’t quite found, or perhaps she was testing the art itself, waiting to see if it would reveal anything worth caring about.

He found himself wondering what she saw. What was it that drew her attention so intensely? Was she, like him, disillusioned by the pageantry of it all? Or was she simply beyond it, a part of a world he hadn’t yet glimpsed?

Aemond’s eyes lingered on her, captivated by her subtle confidence. He could tell she knew he was watching - how could she not? And yet, she gave no indication that she minded. Instead, there was a knowingness in her movements, a quiet acknowledgment of his gaze that sent a strange thrill through him.

Almost as if she moved just for him.

As she turned from the group around her to admire one of the larger paintings, she glanced over her shoulder, her eyes meeting his. It was fleeting, just a flicker of recognition, but the brief moment stretched out in Aemond’s mind. She didn’t look away immediately, nor did she smile - there was something almost challenging in her gaze, as though she were testing him, daring him to keep watching.

And he did.

Their eyes met again several times as the night wore on, each moment charged with tension that had heat penetrating him through his black turtleneck. He couldn’t place it - this feeling that they were circling each other from opposite ends of the room. They had not spoken a word, yet it felt as though they were in conversation, their glances exchanging ideas, questions, provocations. What was she thinking? Did she feel this pull too, or was she simply toying with him, amused by the attention of a younger man?

She leaned in to whisper something to her husband, her lips barely moving, and Aemond felt an unexpected surge of jealousy - irrational, yes, but undeniable. She was so at ease, so unattainable, yet there was something in the way she kept looking at him, as if she wanted him to see her just as much as he wanted to understand her.

He’d never, in his entire life, felt like this before.

Their eyes locked again, and this time her lips curved into the faintest smile, not of politeness or pretense, but of acknowledgment. She knew exactly what she was doing, and Aemond, for all his careful control, felt the thrill of the chase. It wasn’t just desire - though there was plenty of that - it was the curiosity that gripped him. Who was she? What did she want from this night, from this life? And why did it feel like, in this crowded room, they were the only two people who mattered?

There was a moment when their gaze lingered just a little longer than before, the silence between them almost deafening, despite the buzz of conversation around them. Aemond felt something stir deep within him, a strange excitement, as though this unspoken challenge had a life of its own. What was he to her? Just another man in the gallery, or had she singled him out the way he had her?

It wasn’t until she broke the connection - turning back to the painting in front of her - that he realized he had been holding his breath.

Aemond had been standing in the corner of the gallery, nursing a drink that had long gone flat. His eyes drifted back to her, stealing glances, trying to untangle the mystery she presented without making it too obvious. He couldn't quite understand why she fascinated him so much, but her presence demanded his attention.

Then, it happened.

She moved.

At first, he thought she was simply changing her position to get a better view of a painting, but when their eyes met across the room for the third time that evening, something shifted. She wasn't just glancing anymore - she was walking toward him.

Aemond’s heart rate spiked. He forced himself to remain calm, to not show his surprise, but he could hardly believe she was coming up to him. The crowd of art enthusiasts seemed to blur, and the distant hum of voices faded into nothingness as she neared. He couldn't help but track every step she took, as though each one was part of a dance he hadn’t learned yet.

And then she was there, standing in front of him. Up close, she was even more striking than he had imagined - her features sharp and graceful, with an aura of confidence that was almost magnetic. She had an air of quiet authority, but not in the way the old-money elite around them carried themselves. Hers was different, more subtle, more powerful.

“Aemond Targaryen,” she said, her voice smooth and knowing, as though they were already well acquainted.

He blinked, still processing the fact that she was speaking to him at all. “You know me,” he said, though it wasn’t exactly a question. It made sense - he was a Targaryen after all, but still, something about her saying his name with such ease unnerved him.

“To no one's surprise, yes.” She smiled, the corners of her lips curling up in a way that was almost teasing. “You didn’t think I’d notice the only one in this room who's barely looked at the art?”

The comment threw him for a moment, but then, intrigued, he leaned in slightly. “A room full of some of the finest art, and yet you’ve been watching me,” he pointed out.

Did she notice him before, the same way he’s noticed her?

For a moment, her dark eyes sparkled with amusement. “Alys Rivers,” she began, letting the name roll off her tongue slowly, as if inviting him to puzzle it out.

Aemond’s brow furrowed. "Rivers..." he muttered, almost to himself, trying to jog his memory. The name wasn’t entirely unfamiliar, but he couldn’t quite place it. And then it came to him - he hadn’t heard that surname in relation to anyone important in his world.

“Strong,” she corrected softly, the name falling like a small bomb between them. “My maiden name is Strong.”

Aemond’s eyes widened as the realization hit him. Strong. Of course. Lionel Strong, the headmaster of the school he attended for years. Harwin Strong, whose presence in Rhaenyra’s life had always been whispered about, and whose children were a constant point of rumor and speculation.

She is a sister to them both. How had he not known of her all this time?

His gaze snapped back to her face, searching for any sign that might have connected her to that family before, but there was nothing immediately obvious. “Lionel Strong...” he said aloud, piecing it together, more for himself than for her benefit.

“Yes,” she confirmed. “Lionel is my half-brother. Harwin, too.”

He exhaled slowly, letting the weight of it sink in. It was like a secret door had been unlocked, revealing more about her than he ever could’ve guessed. She had roots in his world, in his life, that had been there all along, just hidden beneath the surface.

Alys smirked, clearly enjoying the way his mind raced to catch up. "Surprised?"

“More than I’d like to admit,” he replied, a slow smile pulling at his lips as he found himself even more intrigued than before.

Aemond leaned back slightly, still processing everything. His mind, usually so sharp and analytical, felt slower than usual in the presence of Alys Rivers - or Strong, as she had just revealed. But as much as her family ties surprised him, it didn’t change the allure she carried. She was still an enigma, now with even more layers to uncover.

Alys shifted her gaze to the painting nearest them - a sprawling canvas of abstract forms, colors bleeding into one another in what he deduces as an intentional mess. “So, what do you think of the work?” she asked casually, her eyes tracing the chaotic lines as if she already knew exactly what he was going to say.

He tilted his head, not willing to offer anything up too quickly. “It’s… bold.”

“Bold,” she repeated, her lips quivering. “That’s a safe assessment.”

“I suppose it is,” he conceded, allowing himself a small smile. “But it’s honest. What about you? You seem like someone with stronger opinions on art.”

“I do,” she admitted, folding her arms across her chest as she took in the piece again. “This one... it’s my husband’s.”

Her words hung in the air, and Aemond couldn’t stop the faint sting of jealousy that crept into his chest at the way she said ‘husband’ - with a sense of familiarity that only came from many years of being tied together. He glanced back at the painting, trying to find some reflection of the man behind it.

“Your husband’s quite the artist,” he said, keeping his tone even, but his interest was undeniable.

Alys nodded, her gaze still on the painting. “Yes, he is. Brynden is one of the best, I suppose, but you don’t need me to tell you that. Everyone else here already has.” There was something dismissive in her voice, a casual indifference that caught Aemond off guard.

He narrowed his eyes slightly. “And what do you think of his work?”

Alys tilted her head and gave a half-smile, as though considering the question for the first time. “It’s... fine. I appreciate what he’s trying to say, but it doesn’t speak to me in the way art should.” She paused, then turned to him, her dark eyes finding him with a sharpness that left him momentarily breathless. “But you already guessed that, didn’t you?”

Aemond smirked, amused by how easily she read him. “It’s a little obvious. The way you talk about him, about his work… It’s almost as if you’re disconnected from it.”

She met his gaze, unflinching, her smile growing. “You’re observant, aren’t you? That must be exhausting.”

He chuckled softly, unable to help himself. “I’ve been told as much.” There was something thrilling about it - this mutual understanding, this wordless challenge.

“So,” he said, redirecting the conversation with purpose, “if your husband’s work doesn’t speak to you, what does? What kind of art do you appreciate?”

Alys turned away from the painting, her attention fully on him now. “The kind that demands something of me. Something that won’t let me look away. I want to be moved, even unsettled. The kind that makes you question everything you thought you knew.”

Aemond’s eyes flickered, intrigued. “You mean the kind that unsettles you in the same way a person can?”

She raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into a sly smile. “Exactly. Sometimes, the most impactful art is the kind that forces you to confront things you’ve been avoiding. It’s messy, uncomfortable, but unforgettable.”

He found himself nodding in agreement, feeling the conversation dip. “I suppose that’s why art and history are so closely linked. Both make you confront uncomfortable truths. The more you understand the world, the more you realize how fragile everything is.”

She sighed softly, as though she’d found someone who shared her exact thoughts. “Yes, and that fragility - that’s where the beauty lies. When you can’t control it. And when it’s gone, you’re left wondering why you didn’t appreciate it enough.”

They weren’t just talking about art anymore, and both of them knew it.

“And history,” she continued, her voice softer now, “is like the ultimate piece of art, isn’t it? Layered and complex, full of contradictions. No matter how much you study it, there’s always something more to uncover.”

Aemond nodded, his gaze intense. “It’s a reminder that nothing is permanent. Not power, not legacy, not even love.”

The way he said it, the quiet certainty in his voice, made Alys pause. She studied him for a long moment, as if searching for something behind his words. “You’re quite young. Do you really believe that?” she asked, her tone challenging, though her smile remained.

“Of course,” he replied easily. “Everything has its limits.”

As their conversation deepened, they moved through the gallery, eventually stopping in front of a painting that caught Alys’s attention. The piece was striking - two figures, intertwined in an abstract embrace, their forms blurring at the edges, as if they were dissolving into one another. The colors were bold, almost chaotic, bleeding into one another in a way that suggested both unity and dissolution.

Alys tilted her head, her lips curving into a thoughtful smile. “What do you make of this one?”

Aemond studied the painting, the mingling figures, the way their outlines seemed to waver as if they could hardly contain themselves within the frame. It was both intimate and unsettling, a reflection of connection and the inevitable loss that comes with it.

“It’s fascinating,” he said, voice measured. “There’s something about the way they’re almost… becoming each other. But it’s not peaceful, is it? It’s like they’re losing themselves in the process.”

She nodded, eyes still fixed on the canvas. “It’s about boundaries, I think. How much of yourself are you willing to give before you start losing pieces of who you are?”

Aemond glanced at her, sensing the weight behind her words. “Isn’t that what love does, in a way? It strips you down, forces you to let go of your boundaries until you’re not sure where you end and the other person begins.”

Alys met his gaze, her eyes sharp, thoughtful. “But that’s dangerous, isn’t it? Giving up so much of yourself. Maybe that’s why so many people cling to the idea of monogamy - one person, one connection, to keep things simple. Less risk.”

Aemond raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Do you think monogamy keeps things simple?”

She laughed softly, shaking her head. “Not at all. Monogamy is just another way of complicating things, if you ask me. The idea that one person can meet all your needs… it feels like an illusion.”

He considered her words, watching her closely as she turned back to the painting. “You don't have much of an opinion for loyalty in your connections?”

Alys shrugged, her smile a little mischievous. “I believe in connection. But I also believe in freedom. Sometimes, those things don’t go hand in hand.”

Aemond’s gaze lingered on her, his mind swirling with the implications of her words. “Is that why you don’t believe in monogamy?”

She didn’t answer right away, instead turning to look at him with that same sly, knowing smile. “I didn’t say that - I can’t, given that I am married. But I don’t think it’s the only way to live.”

Aemond chuckled, shaking his head slightly. “I think monogamy works for some people. But for others... perhaps it’s just another form of control.”

“And what about you?” she asked, her gaze locking with his, challenging him again. “Do you crave control, Aemond?”

He didn’t answer right away, but the intensity of her gaze made his heart race. “I think we all do, in some way. It’s human nature.”

Alys took a step closer, her voice dropping to a near whisper. “But sometimes, the most exhilarating moments come when you let go of control. When you surrender to something - or someone - you can’t predict.”

Her words sent a shiver down his spine, and for a brief moment, he felt the air between them grow charged. The flirtation between them had evolved into something far more potent, far more dangerous.

“Are you speaking from experience?” he asked, his voice lower now, the distance between them shrinking.

She didn’t break eye contact, her lips curving slightly. “I think you know the answer to that.”

Aemond glanced around the bustling gallery, the laughter and chatter of art enthusiasts fading into a background hum as his focus narrowed back to Alys. The way her eyes sparkled, the slight tilt of her head, and the intoxicating warmth of her presence drew him in like a moth to flame.

In a bold, instinctive move, he reached for her hand, intertwining his fingers with hers. The contact sent a jolt through him, a mix of excitement and nervous energy. Her skin felt warm against his, soft yet somehow grounding, and he marveled at how effortlessly their hands fit together.

Without a word, he began to lead her away from the crowd. They slipped through a doorway and into an empty stairwell. As they stepped into the dim light, Aemond turned to face her fully, their hands still clasped. He felt a rush of exhilaration, the act of holding her hand feeling significant, almost intimate.

“What now?” she asked, her voice low and playful, her gaze unwavering.

He hesitated, caught in the intensity of the moment, the gravity of her presence. He reached into his trouser pockets for a cigarette and lighter, and soon there was the ashy smell of smoke around them.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “But I want to find out.”

The smoke from Aemond’s cigarette curling lazily into the quiet space. He took a drag, exhaling slowly as his mind raced, the sharp taste of nicotine mingling with the tension. He kept his gaze on the blank space ahead, the smoke filling the air around them. She, however, hadn’t taken her eyes off him. He could feel it—the way she watched him, measured him, waiting to see what he would do next. The silence between them wasn’t uncomfortable; it felt charged.

He took one last drag before carelessly flicking the cigarette to the floor, grinding it under his boot without a second thought. The small, defiant gesture felt freeing, as though he was stamping out a part of himself—his restraint, his hesitation. He turned to face her again, her gaze steady, her lips slightly parted as if she was waiting for something.

For a moment, neither of them moved. The world outside the stairwell ceased to exist. Then, with a low exhale, he stepped closer, his eyes locking with hers. It was a split second of tension before he leaned in, his lips brushing against hers. The kiss was slow at first, exploratory, testing the boundaries between them. But the moment her lips parted, the intensity between them flared to life.

Aemond pressed her back against the cold, hard wall, the warmth of her body against his heightening his awareness of every touch, every breath. His hands moved with purpose, one sliding up to cup her face, the other finding her waist, pulling her closer. As the kiss deepened, his fingers traced the line of her neck, her collarbone, before they slipped lower, teasing the hem of her dress.

She let out a soft gasp as his fingers found their way between her thighs, and he swallowed the sound with his mouth. There was no hesitation, no awkward fumbling—only the smooth, practiced confidence.

Her hands clutched at his shoulders, fingers digging into the fabric of his coat as he continued, the rhythm of his fingers drawing soft moans from her lips. He could feel her tightening, her body trembling as she reached the edge. His thumb brushed over her in just the right way, and that was all it took. Alys stifled a cry as she came, her body arching against the wall, and Aemond kissed her again, this time slower, more tender, as if savoring the moment. Her breathing slowly evened out, and Aemond felt a strange sense of calm wash over him. Neither of them spoke. There was no need for words.

They simply stood there, foreheads pressed together, sharing the stillness as the world outside continued to move without them.

Look forward to your thoughts! (No seriously, say something. I really need to be motivated and that usually happens through fic related discourse haha)

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youraverageaemondsimp · 10 months ago

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Eyes of Emerald Green // Vampire!Alys Rivers x Targaryen!Reader

MDNI, DD:DNE(?)

Summary: the woman who once plagued your dream while you were young, reappears.

WARNINGS: slight dubcon, age gap, sexual tension, masturbation, oral (both f), wlw relationship, vampire x human, blood drinking, cunnilingus, blood kink, tiddy sucking, face sitting, canon divergence, breeding kink(?) idk, multiple orgasms. + not proofread

WC: 3.4k

A/N: THE LONG AWAITED FIC LMAO, I've been teasing this since Halloween October 2023 💀💀💀 and now it's finally here 😳❗// divider creds to @cafekitsune

“Spare no man, woman, child or any bastard!” You commanded the guards who were capturing and killing the members of the house strong, this was not your original plan, but after hearing what had happened to king's landing, you vented your frustration on the house you despised the most, house strong.

Recapturing harrenhal was your brother's idea, you simply led the army, yet the city of kings landing was soon attacked, and when you had heard of it, you were stricken with rage.

The sounds of metal clinking, flesh being cut through was like a pleasant lullaby to your ears, you felt a sick sense of accomplishment even though the city had faced a big loss.

You were participating in the massacre too, stabbing the bodies of the members over and over again, covered in their blood, your hair matted as the blood dried up, yet you still did not stop.

But then suddenly you felt a shiver run up your spine and you spun around to see a woman, who appeared to be youthful, standing there in her maids robes, something about her drew you in, and you gasped when you made eye contact.

Emerald green eyes that seemed to piece through your soul, you suddenly felt vulnerable as if she could see through you and you remained frozen in place as you stared at her, you noted how you oddly felt a sense of familiarity with her.

Her eyes reminded you of the woman who appeared in your dreams a few years ago. You remember going to sleep that night and woke up with the feeling of something heavy sitting in your chest and opened your eyes to see the emerald green irises staring at you, you remember not being able to scream, and watched as she bared her fangs before biting down on your neck, you quickly woke up terrified and screamed, the servants immediately rushed in hearing the noise, you had tried telling them what happened and they simply dismissed it as a nightmare.

Those very same eyes were staring at you right now, as you massacred the house she probably served or belonged to.

Yet she did not look scared, but rather a sick expression of relief was on her face, almost as if she was expecting this to happen, as if she knew– that this would happen. You went towards her direction and stopped in front of her, she didn't budge, but merely stared, the blood that had stuck to your armour and hair did not scare her away, but instead, her breathing picked up, almost as if she was sniffing at the stench.

“You– who are you?” You asked and she smiled, “I had expected your arrival, my princess.” she did not answer your question but just stated what she wanted to and you raised an eyebrow, grip tightening on the sword, “And how exactly?” You asked and her eyes drifted to your sword for a moment before she made eye contact with you again, “I saw it in my dreams, my visions.” she replied.

“I hope that in your vision you had also foreseen your death, it would make it less shocking for what I am gonna do to you.” You reply sternly, beginning to shift to a more offensive position, ready to attack her but she just chuckled, “You wouldn't hurt me.” She said confidently and you scoffed, “And how exactly did you come to the conclusion that I would spare you?” You question, “Because princess, nobody knows you as well as I do, after all we've met before.” You just roll your eyes and grab her by the throat, but she doesn't struggle, “You want to be the queen.” the words that leave her mouth makes you halt and you immediately let go of her, eyes wide in shock. “You are but a mere third daughter of King Viserys, much more dutiful than your half sister and your elder brother, you are supporting him for the sake of blood, but deep down, you want the iron throne for yourself, don't you?” She speaks and you remain speechless, wondering how she knows everything. “And your younger brother, is now prince regent, though he was born after you, he was still given preference over you to rule as a regent, even as a kinslayer, he is sitting on the throne in your elder brother's stead. Is that not unfair? Had you not done more than him? Especially being a woman?” You continue to remain silent as she speaks, and how correct she is, “I can help you.” She says and you look at her, “My visions will be of use to you, which is the exact reason you will be sparing me.” She finishes talking and by the end of it, it felt as if you had fallen into her carefully woven trap. You thought about it for a mere moment, you could just kill her and be done with it, fight your own battles, but when has anyone conquered their own selfishness, and just like that, you had accepted her help.

“What is your name?” You asked her and she smiled, “Alys rivers.”

Just like that she was spared.

The news had reached King's Landing, where Aemond was ruling as a regent, he successfully managed to seize the throne back to him and executed all of the black's spies in the city, and regained full control over it.

“Harrenhal has now successfully been recaptured by the princess Y/N, though when she had heard of what happened to the city, she was enraged and directed that anger towards the House Strong, she had successfully eliminated the house, no woman, no bastard, no child was to be spared, except only one was spared, a bastard and a wet nurse called Alys Rivers, it seemed that the princess had taken a liking to her.”

Aemond read the letter of report, eyebrows furrowed, he knew how you would be in anger, impulsive and quick, so he was surprised when he heard that you spared someone, but did not think much of it, he came to the conclusion that though your tastes were different, you deserved to have your own spoil of war, so he did not question anything, and allowed you to be as you are.

Meanwhile, as the days passed, you and alys had gotten closer, she told you everything she saw in her visions and you figured how accurate she was, it seemed as though she was given the sight to see into the future.

You sat in your chair, dipping the quill into the ink before writing it down on the parchment paper, writing down reports of the nearby area, trying to note of any suspicious behaviour to immediately correct until your eye landed on a specific report, “Man found dead at the shore of the God's eye river, there were two bite marks on multiple parts of his body, and his flesh was torn as if though he had been ripped apart by a wild beast.” You furrowed your brows, could this be a result of a beast attack? If so, you have to hunt it down before there are any more victims.

Just then the door opened and you saw Alys, who was now walking towards you, holding a tray of tea cups and, “You had been working since the morrow, I had bought some tea.” she placed it down on the table, and you could help but take note of her attire, a low cut neckline, that almost spilled her breasts outside when she leaned down, you cleared your throat and nodded.

It seemed as if she was trying to do that on purpose.

Things quickly moved, and as months passed by, the blacks had slowly lost the war and the news of Aegon's passing had reached your ear, and though you were sad that you had lost a brother, the line to the iron throne cleared by itself, and you felt a sick sense of satisfaction.

As the situation remained stagnant for a while, you had began your search into the beast that was attacking many people, the victims had increased from when you last heard the report, and what you found odd was how whenever you'd ask Alys for the help in this matter, she would avoid it, or not give proper answers.

And so you decided to confirm your suspicions which were gnawing at your gut as you began to place the pieces together and called her to your chambers in the middle of the night.

Which you should've realised was a bad idea.

“You have summoned me? My princess?” She asked, and you rubbed your thighs together, trying to ignore the sense of arousal that was beginning to drip from you whenever you would see her, “Hm? Yes, I wanted to ask you something.” You thickened your voice.

“I have noticed your behaviour whenever I would bring up the beast attackings, you know something don't you?” You question and she remains silent, “No answer, hm.”

“Alys,, do you know a few years ago, I dreamt of a woman with eyes just like yours? Resembling emerald stones, and she was on top of me and bit down into me” you began to tell her randomly and you noticed how her expression changed slightly.

Right on the target.

“And I remember you saying that you had known me, though I thought it was because of your visions, I soon began to put everything together.” You continued.

“You are the beast in question right? The one that sucks blood for living?” You accuse and she swallows thickly, “Do not lie to me, Alys.” You command and she sighs before quickly accepting the accusation. “Yes, it is me, what am I meant to do? It is the only way I can feed myself, normal food makes me want to vomit.” Her tone changes.

“Why not animal blood?” You question and she rolls her eyes, “It isn't as tasty.” she simply says and you are in disbelief, “If you wanna drink from humans, at least don't kill them, do you not have witchful powers? Why not erase their memory?” You suggest, trying to help her out because you did not want to resort to killing immediately, after all, she did help you in a lot of things.

“If I was capable then I would've done it, there is no other way, and it seems I'd have to kill you too now, I cannot let my secret get out, what a shame, I liked you.” She says and comes closer to you, “Why would I tell anyone?” You question and she stops, confused. “It isn't beneficial to me with you gone, I just wanted you to stop killing that's all.” You tell her and she smirks, “So you're not going to be telling anyone?” she asks and you nod, “It would mean loss for me.” You tell her and she bursts out laughing and you stare at her confused.

“My lady, I knew you were always so interesting and unique, but this was far behind my expectations.” She says and comes closer to you, you take a few steps back before the back of your knees hit your bed, causing you to stumble and sit on it.

You stare at Alys as she looks at you from above and you felt as if your bad dream was coming true, her hands trail towards your neck and to the back of your head before she yanks your head backwards by your hair, exposing your neck. You breath heavily as you stare at her and she slowly bares her fags before biting down onto your neck and you gasp, gripping her shoulders, trying to push her away.

She sucks on your blood for a bit before pulling away and you stare at her wide eyed, her fangs now completely out as your blood drips from the side of her mouth. Her pupils look dilated, she wipes away the blood from the back of her hand and pushes you onto the bed completely.

“Alys– I command you to–”

“Hush princess, we both know that you want this. You think I haven't noticed the way you squirm in my presence? Your skirts don't do a good job at hiding the way you rub your thighs.” She shushes you, you stare at her bewildered. She places one knee onto the bed before slowly climbing it, you try to scurry back but she pulls you by your thigh and yanks you closer towards her, now she is face to face with you. Her arms placed on either side of you, trapping you in between her as she leaned further in before she captured your lips with her own.

Heat bloomed through your cheeks as she kissed you, she swiped her tongue on your bottom lip asking for entrance to which you allowed her, she wasted no time before pushing her tongue inside your mouth, intertwining it with your own.

You cringed at the metallic taste of your blood from before, but you didn't pull away and began kissing her back, she moaned into the kiss when she felt you reciprocating her actions, she pulled away and took deep breaths.

“You're so fucking pretty princess.” She kissed your cheek before trailing downwards to your neck and licked the spot which she had bit before and pressed a kiss to it, before going further down and pressing a kiss to your collarbone.

“I know what you want, princess.” She undid the front lace of your gown and slowly pushed it down your shoulders, her eyes darkened as more of your body was revealed to her, she licked her lips at the sight of your breasts as she pulled your gown further down. You lifted your hips and helped her pull it off from you completely.

“Or should I say, My Queen?” You freeze at those words and you immediately stare at her face in shock, “That's treason.” You retort but she smirks, she caresses your cheek with her thumb before she brings it to your lips, pressing gently. “What's treason is your thought of usurping your own brother.” You gulp as she reveals what she knew and you remain silent, not denying it or agreeing with it. She tilts your head upwards before pressing her lips to yours once again.

The kiss gets heated once again, you tug at her gown, indicating that you want her to take it off but she pulls away and pushes your hand away gently, “Uh uh.” she says, denying you. You furrow your brows and are about to say something but you aren't able to get anything out when you feel her cup your cunt.

You watch her shift, travelling downwards your body and stare as she forces your legs wide open. Your heart begins to speed up, anticipation killing you while you observe her.

She presses a kiss to your inner thigh and without a warning, her mouth is latched on to your count which causes you to fall backwards in pleasure. She wastes no time and makes swift strokes with her tongue against your clit, you moan and whimper at her abuse to your cunt, your hand flies to grip her hair when you feel her bite you slightly, you push your hips forward while holding down her face to your cunt. Her arms around your thighs and she slightly lips your hips off the mattress.

Her tongue prods at your entrance and your eyes widen you feel her push it inside you, her nose nuzzling against your clit, she begins to bob her head in and out, fucking you with her tongue. She licks one long stripe up your cunt and latches herself onto your clit again and suckles on it.

This causes heat to bloom in your lower abdomen, making you gasp her name as you feel every inch of your body twitch in pleasure as your high hits you. You ride your orgasm out on her face and she slowly pulls away. Her lips were coated with your essence and she licks it all up, which further arouses you.

You watch through hooded eyes as she kisses up your stomach and stops in between your breasts, she presses a small kiss to the flesh of teat, and soon she's suckling on your nipple like a babe while staring at you.

You could do nothing but just observe, too caught up in the pleasure, you caress her hair which causes her to smirk as she lets go of your breast with a wet pop. She quickly bites down on the flesh of your breast, sinking her fangs in and sucking the blood out.

You grunt in pain but couldn't help but enjoy the slight pleasure you're getting from it. It feels comparable to when you scratch an itch. You breath heavily and you begin to feel light headed as your body finally registering the loss of blood you're experiencing, you slowly begin to lose consciousness but you are pulled away from it with a harsh slap to your cheek, making you come back to your senses as the adrenaline rushes to your brain.

You noticed that she was no longer drinking blood, but was removing her garments, undoing her clothes until she's bare just like you. Your eyes widened at the sight of her body, her pale body seemed to glow on its own.

You try to get up to feel her body but she pushes you down and shifts positions to where she's hovering above your face, you lick your lips staring at her cunt. She holds your head by your forehead before slowly descending down onto your mouth and you immediately welcome her clasping onto her.

She gasps as you work your tongue against her cunt, “Good girl.” She praises you and you clench your thighs at the praise, aroused by it. It doesn't go unnoticed by her as she chuckles.

“Who knew that the future queen gets aroused at merely being called a good girl?” She ponders mockingly and you freeze at what she had revealed. “Why did you stop?” She begins grinding herself against your face. “Is it because I had revealed that you'd be the future queen?” She asks and you wrap your arms around her thighs as a way to say yes.

“Hmm.. Yes, I'll only reveal more if you put your tongue to work.”

You did not need to hear more and you immediately began putting your tongue to work, flicking it up and down against her clit before sucking on it, the act is making you aroused yourself so you unwrap one of your hands from her thigh and take it down to your cunt, rubbing on the clitoris.

“I've seen it in my dreams.” She begins, slowly humping against your face, “You, donning the conqueror's crown, seated on the iron throne.” you imagined it and that only got you more aroused, you pushed a finger inside your cunt and began to pump it, in and out.

Alys whimpered when you clamped down on her clit, desperately sucking on it. “Yours will be the song of ice and fire.” She tells you and your eyes widen, at the very same moment she reaches her peak and finishes with a loud moan, you peak simultaneously as well.

She rides out her peak but all you can think about was what she had revealed, you felt elevated, combined with everything, you felt as though you were floating.

You watch as she gets off your face and sits next to you, you still lay there, processing and imagining it, “Will you be by my side?” You ask her, before slowing getting up, hair dishevelled as her juices coated your chin.

“Of course, who would father your children then?” Her words make you furrow your brows, “How? We're both women? that sounds illogical.” You try to reason and she smirks, “Do not fret about these things, I have my ways to do it.” She tells you and you nod, brushing it off.

You've seen many things that didn't make sense, having a child with her may as well be possible.

You knew whatever Alys had said would come true, and they did all come true, though it cost your brother's life, you did not feel an ounce of guilt as you slayed him with your own hands, deeming you a kinslayer, though the curse did not matter to you, cause you would be the ruler of the seven kingdoms for ages to come.

— ! ݈݇- thank you so much for reading! i hope you enjoyed it <3 comments and reblogs are appreciated greatly ♡

#alys rivers x reader smut #alys rivers smut #alys rivers #alys rivers x reader #hotd alys rivers #alys rivers hotd #hotd smut #hotd x reader #hotd x reader smut #alys rivers x fem!reader #house of the dragon smut #alys rivers fanfiction #alys rivers fic #alys x reader

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lewkwoodnco · 5 months ago

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the tortured poets department - george karim x reader

George stiffened and shut his eyes regretfully as if he couldn’t bear to see that look on her face. A faint flush started creeping up his throat, peeking out from behind his starchy collar. “Don’t,” he whispered.

“Tell me,” she pressed, taking yet another step closer until their noses were barely an inch apart, “who else is going to know me? Truly know me?”

He let go of the breath he was holding and it fluttered across her cheek like the ghost of a kiss. They were venturing into intolerably intimate territory, and she could feel her pulse racing under the distracted brush of his thumb on her wrist.

a/n - HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH thats it thats the a/n also happy birthday to ali hadji-hesmati ia m NOT late shut up

tropes/warnings - slight nsfw towards the end (idk tho??), angst (what else is new lmao), tw slight mention of suicide, ft locklyle wedding (a bit) happy ending tho, i am very sick wrote this entirely on my phone and cannot be held accountable for any of this

word count - 3.7k!

TAGLIST | MASTERLIST

Who uses typewriters anyway?

That was what she had mouthed at her friend from across the Fittes office. They were brand new hires; scribes assigned to different researchers under an apprenticeship programme. Things were off to a rougher start than she had expected. From what she could see, her friend had been assigned to a perfectly normal-looking researcher who, now that introductions were complete, was explaining his filing system to her.

On the other hand, the first thing her oddly intense researcher had asked was if she knew how to use a typewriter. She had laughed, thinking it was a joke, before very quickly realising that he was being perfectly serious. He started explaining how the contraption worked far too quickly for her to catch anything, and she had taken the chance to shoot her friend a look.

“L/N?”

She whipped her head back around, immediately apologetic. “Sorry. I think I get how it works now.” Really, it was just bad luck that she had gotten the short end of the stick.

The next thing she learnt, over many months, was how to pick up on and decrypt George’s nonverbal cues. Namely, knowing what his every sigh, muttering or frown meant. While it had felt frustrating similar to banging her head against a wall in the beginning, he started to grow on her. Learning how George Karim ticked was like figuring out an intriguing puzzle all on her own. Besides, he wasn’t unkind. He could be understanding, so long as he had the patience for it on that particular day.

But there were times when she decided that no, he wasn’t all that compassionate of a coworker. Particularly on nights when he’d have her write up chapters worth of research summarised from his scrawled notes. And woe betide her should she make one too many mistakes.

Who the hell uses typewriters anyway?

"Do you ever think about leaving Fittes?"

Her typing stopped abruptly, her flickering train of thought completely demolished by George's appalling suggestion. They were sitting at their adjacent desks at the Fittes office, her typing up the previous night's case report while George twiddled his thumbs and fiddled with a pen in increasingly creative ways.

"Leave? And go where?"

She followed the line of his hateful stare towards one of the thick metal doors along the corridor which led to a more restricted part of the offices. Like most others, she felt no pressing inclination to snoop around and stumble upon information she would rather not find. But for someone like George, she could practically see how it gnawed at him - libraries of secrets just begging to be known.

Her gaze flitted anxiously between his face and the door. It was both a frightening and thrilling thing when George decided to put his mind to something, using his brain at its full capacity in some sincerely earnest hunt for knowledge. It was also the thing that was going to get him killed sooner or later, mesmerising as he was. It. Mesmerising as it was.

"Start our own agency. Play by our rules."

She laughed nervously, too artificial even for her own ears as she wrung her stiff hands. George's voice had a distant quality to it that told her he was on the way to making some very bad decisions if she didn't step in soon. "Oh, George, you say the…the darnedest things. You're no Tom Rotwell, you know."

"You're not Marissa Fittes yourself, either."

"Rude."

His gaze flickered to her at that, the barest hint of a smile ghosting his lips as the tension in his shoulders dissolved. She visibly relaxed as well, satisfied that it would be a decent while before he once again latched onto this bizarre notion.

Which was why his abrupt switch in employment to some small, crumbling agency had left her more than shell-shocked. Coming into work on a normal, gloomy Monday and seeing George's desk cleared out and painfully sterile of the ideas and theories he buzzed with left her feeling lost at sea in the worst way. And he didn't bother to reach out to her either - not a call, not a letter, not a visit.

That is, not a visit until he turned up at her door in the middle of the night, pale as the Visitors that skulked outside her door.

"Sorry.”

For one stupidly miraculous moment, she thought he might be apologising for a month’s worth of grey days and sleepless nights.

“I know it’s late, but I think I left my typewriter here."

She felt stupidly disappointed.

"You're making a mess of my - what are you doing?"

George had located his otherwise untouched typewriter positioned at one corner of her dining table and was now furiously typing away, a sickly, pallid sheen to his forehead.

"Don't worry, I'll be qui -"

"Karim."

His typing faltered, and for once he had the decency to look marginally embarrassed.

“Sit down. Start from the beginning.”

So he did. He told her everything about some Type Two case at 62 Sheen Road, short of coming out and saying that he had put his associates' lives in danger, but she could hear it in his voice. It was an almost welcome return to the old days of picking out the relevant parts while his mind ran ahead at the speed of light; so much to think and agonise over. When his voice finally started to run thin, she fetched him a cup of tea, taking a moment to process it all.

"Okay, so, if I have this right, none of this is your fault. No - don't argue with me. Drink your tea. You told him to wait, that you needed more time.“

He mumbled something incoherent as he pulled off his glasses, dragging a hand across his eyes, looking far too young and worn. He glanced up to meet her gaze, the look on his face as much of a wreck as the rest of him. He looked down again, staring at his hands splayed on her dining table. George never was one for letting his feelings show, let alone hysterics, and it rubbed at something raw to see him spiralling this badly.

“They’d be better off with a researcher who could actually do his job.”

She suppressed the overwhelming urge to roll her eyes.

“Oh, please, this has nothing to do with being altruistic. This is just you trying to punish yourself over something that isn’t even your fault.”

He showed no sign of having heard her. She sighed and slid into the seat next to his, her fingers nearly brushing his.

“Look - what's done is done. Possibly the worst thing you could do now is leave them in the lurch like this. Of course, it's not going to be smooth sailing throughout, but you made a commitment, so for the love of God keep your head up and stick it through.” She reached out to loosely cover his wrist. “Okay?”

George stayed silent but glanced up at her. Okay. She pulled her hand away. He finished the last of his tea and stood.

“I should get going, I suppose.”

She looked out the window, eyeing the eerie green glow of the ghost lamps critically. “It’s a bit late, don’t you think? Not very safe.”

“I have my rapier on me.”

The corners of her mouth tightened.

“I’d feel better if you left in the morning.”

And so they ended up in her living room, him sitting on the floor and her sitting on the couch, dragging her fingers through his soft curls. They talked about everything and nothing, like the recent layoffs at Rotwell’s and what George’s new associates were like. He made them sound marvellous. It was obvious why he’d leave Fittes. Why he’d leave her.

“The three of us…we live at 35 Portland Row.”

“Mhm.”

“And there’s this doughnut shop down the street from there.”

She lightly scraped his scalp teasingly.

“So that’s why you left.”

She could feel him smile despite himself.

“We should go, someday. You’d love it.”

A vision trickled into her imagination - she and George standing at the end of some empty cobblestoned road with soft, pillowy doughnuts dripping sugar down their knuckles, sprinkles melting into their fingerprints. It’s evening, and the sun is almost painfully intense, beating down a lovely glow over the scene. She’s distantly aware of the impending danger of the rapidly approaching nighttime, but for now, George is standing in front of her in a soft shirt, the edges of his face kind and blunt, the almost permanent furrow of his brow melted away in the liquid sun, reaching out to swipe a thumb at the corner of her mouth -

“Get some rest.” Her voice was thick with a longing for such golden yet treacherously illusory days. George leaned back, resting his head on the couch with half-lidded eyes, his breathing evening out as he drifted off. She gently slipped her fingers out of his hair. She gently pulled his glasses off but before she could put them someplace safe, she was out like a light herself.

She had a fitful sleep and blearily woke up a few hours later, George’s head an oddly comforting weight against her knee. She groggily pulled herself up and tossed a blanket at the figure slumped against her couch before fetching a glass of water and some paracetamol.

Shortly after, George lurched awake like he was sweating out a fever, heart thudding and eyes restless. He groaned, no doubt wincing at the pounding behind his eyes. He caught sight of the water and medicine placed next to him but looked away after a moment of consideration. She raised her eyebrows pointedly, knowing only too well the kind of hell his overactive mind was capable of putting him through.

“How’s your head?”

She hadn’t meant to sound that sarcastic, but it was enough for him to get the hint. He relented, taking a sip of water and then one of the pills just for good measure.

"Good. Now go home and get some proper rest, you moron."

She watched him stumble down the road till he turned the corner, trying to hide how shaken she was by his panic. She sighed wearily. Only a month at Lockwood & Co. and already he would be a desperate wreck without them. She turned back inside, trying to ignore how empty her dining table looked without his typewriter and how vacant she felt without that flimsy excuse for him to see her again.

Years passed. She and George somewhat kept in touch, but it had still been extremely startling when Lockwood & Co. reached out to her with plans to expose her employer, Marissa Fittes. Amongst the tragedy of Portland Row being reduced to rubble, Kipps nearly dying and the Skull almost moving on, unemployment was the least of her concerns.

Still, it wasn’t all sad once Lucy had proposed to Lockwood after one too many failed attempts by the latter party. They had planned a relatively intimate affair, only inviting some old friends of the ex-Fittes employees of the group.

They held it at an inexpensive banquet hall just a few minutes away from Portland Row. Lucy looked gorgeous and glowing with happiness under the gentle warm lighting, and Lockwood looked dashing in a suit not much more formal than his regular one. He spent the majority of the reception denying that he had teared up at the first glimpse of Lucy at the end of the aisle, insisting that his best man was a pathological liar.

After the main event, the guests milled around, having drinks, and occasionally congratulating the happy couple. As expected, Lockwood became very drunk very quickly, enough to pull out some terribly nonsensical yet oddly stirring comment.

“Here’s to the first day of the rest of our lives.”

She glanced across at George. He met her eye. They immediately looked away. She could have sworn she felt a hitch of some breath between them. She felt the prickle of tears behind her eyes. Lucy was desperately trying to shut up an overly emotional and hence overly talkative Lockwood who looked ready to launch into a speech no one asked for.

“That’s enough now, or we’ll have Kipps bawling all through dinner.”

It wasn’t exactly a sit-down dinner, though there was appropriate seating. Half of the guests were eating and the other half were having fun with some party games. She was watching Holly struggle at Twister when she felt someone slide into the seat next to hers - namely, the best man, George.

“Hey.”

She grinned, flushed from the champagne she had been sipping all evening. “Hey.”

“Having fun?”

“Lots.”

He couldn’t help but return her smile, looking a little tipsy himself. “I can tell.”

They ate in silence for a while, only the tinny sound of the radio’s strain and cheers from the party games filling the space between them.

“I think I missed you at the bouquet toss earlier.”

She nearly swallowed her spoon. He had noticed? He noticed her? She didn't know how to tell him that she couldn't see herself marrying anyone that wasn't him. How could she wake up every day knowing her better half was somewhere out there miles away, wondering if he wished for someone as moron-shaped as her?

“Oh, well, that’s not really my thing. More of a bridesmaid than a bride.”

She resumed eating, presuming that line of conversation to be over until she noticed he was still looking at her strangely, his cutlery stationary in his hands. Her chewing slowed in an attempt at dignity.

“…what?”

He lifted her right hand off her knife, making her heart thud dangerously. Wordlessly, he pulled off the sapphire ring on her middle finger and oh-so-delicately slid it onto her ring finger instead.

“I think you’d make a wonderful bride.”

She stared at the ring, speechless. It wasn’t a proposal, but it wasn’t nothing either. Maybe…maybe this was a second chance at something. Maybe he wouldn’t screw this up this time.

He almost reluctantly relinquished his grip on her hand. She didn’t dare meet his eye. Even his voice, quiet yet slightly rough, felt unbearable to hear.

“Were you mad? When I left without telling you?”

She had waited months to hear those words.

“I wished you'd talked to me about it first. Just...just to make sure your head was screwed on straight.”

He nodded, and they returned to their food, the silence a lot less giddily amicable now.

“So, would you have - “

“Absolutely not. God, no. I would have told you to stay ten feet away from Anthony Lockwood at all times.”

They looked over to where Lucy was helping Lockwood sit down, having unfortunately thrown his back out at Limbo. She winced. “He’s such a wild card.”

“I suppose I am too.”

She turned, curious, and he looked as though he regretted letting that slip out. Her voice dropped, taking on a softer edge.

“Not to me. Not when it’s you.”

He stared at her like there was something bloodied and hungry behind his eyes. She felt this twinge of something in her chest. Oh, how could she bear this? How could she bear him?

Sometimes, part of her wished she were a book - one completely enthralling and riveting, chock-full of secrets eager to slip out and lose themselves in thin air. Perhaps that was just a manifestation of her paralysing desire to be known and to be known by him.

“I should go,” George was saying as he finished up the last of his food. He stood, wiping his mouth, wandering off to find his coat. Maybe it was the liquor or the unfamiliar buzz of hope in the air tonight, but there was some odd tone of finality to his voice. She watched him leave, chewing her food thoughtfully, not feeling very hungry anymore.

As the minutes trickled by, it began to feel exhausting to be surrounded by so many happy couples, happy people, all that revolting joy and merriment. Only a short while after George had left, she located her own coat and weeded Lucy out of a throng of people doing the Macarena.

“I think I might head out now. Congratulations once again, Luce.”

“You too? Aww, thanks. Have you decided about the job offer from Madison?”

“I haven’t written back yet, but I think I’m going to turn them down. I was thinking about talking to Lockwood someday to see if he could take on one more employee. Plus, Madison’s a bit far out, and I’m pretty comfortable where I am.”

“Good. George might have just offed himself if it weren’t for his course at Edinburgh. I mean,” Lucy tripped over her words over the stunned look on her face, “I’m sure he was just kidding.”

“Hang on. Edinburgh?”

“Yeah. For his supervisor training. Did he not tell you? I thought for sure he…”

Lucy’s words muffled into oblivion and bled into some horrible ringing sound. Her mouth felt painfully dry. No. This couldn’t be happening.

“…he wanted to wait till after the wedding to tell Lockwood. Didn’t want to put a damper on things. Don’t get me wrong - I’m just as cut up about it, but…” They looked over to where Lockwood was watching the limbo game from afar with a forlorn expression. “…you know Lockwood.”

“What the hell, George.”

He jumped, freezing with his hand buried deep in his pocket, tediously hunting for his keys. She had managed to catch him at the front porch of Portland Row, looking especially guilty under the tepid glow of the ghost lamps.

“You’re training to become a supervisor?”

His face briefly twisted in annoyance. The audacity. “I told Lucy in confidence -“

“When were you going to tell me, Karim? Or were you just going to let me find out all on my own, like last time?” She wanted to laugh cruelly. There was nothing merciful about this knife in her chest. “I mean, why do this? Why lead me on and make me feel things and give me hope?”

“When have I ever led you on?”

“Then what was all that with my ring? Huh?” Tears sprang to her eyes once again, hot and shameful, stinging like a caustic disinfectant to an open wound. She felt so, so stupid.

“You said you didn’t care.”

“I did care!” she snapped. “Of course I fucking cared. I don’t think I could have stopped myself from caring, not when I know you like the back of my hand.”

“But you don’t care. No - tomorrow you’re going to board a train and move out of my reach and meet someone new to soothe the turmoil in your head and you won’t feel my heart bleeding for you. And if you’re very, very lucky, you might find some semblance of happiness -“

“I weigh you down!” The tirade died at her lips. Fury lined every shadow, every crevice of George’s face. He spat his words out with such venom, utter distaste. “I weigh you down…like a child. You pick me up when I fall down and kiss it better because that’s the kind of person you are. I can’t sentence you to a lifetime of running around trying to save me. I won’t do it. I’ll find someone else.”

A burden. He looked through her eyes and all he saw was a shrivelled excuse of a companion, dragging her into his depths of despair. She’d be lying if she said she never felt suffocated by his baggage. But there were some burdens you didn’t mind shouldering, not when you loved them so tenderly.

After all, who was going to unravel his every pause, stutter, sigh, and ache as she did?

“But who else is going to decode you like I do?”

“Tell me,” she pressed, taking yet another step closer until their noses were barely an inch apart, “who else is going to know me? Truly know me?”

There was a brooding, resigned look in his eye as if whatever he had been running from had finally caught up to him. He bowed his head and their foreheads touched. Her arms nervously reached around his neck, his hands on her waist steadying her as if to keep their balance on whatever strand of peace the moment had proffered them.

Her lips hovered over his shoulder, clavicle and jaw. She felt him reflexively tighten and loosen his grip, restless fingers fiddling with the folds of her dress and how they wrapped around her body. She brushed against the shell of his ear and felt a shiver run up his spine.

“Who else is going to hold you…like me?”

He turned a fraction and she briefly registered the lack of hesitation in his dark eyes before he finally closed the last of the gap between them. He pressed his lips to hers, soft yet intentional. He tasted like champagne and smoke and promises long-forgotten yet unbroken. It was a dizzying sort of relief to feel that years-old desperate want coiled inside finally melt through arms and fingertips buzzing with curiosity.

After that first touch, it felt as though they couldn’t get close enough, let alone pull themselves apart and have the brisk evening air rush in and nip at sensitive skin. She heard the doorknob rattle as George fumbled with it. After a short struggle, they stumbled into a nearly pitch-dark Portland Row, urgently shucking off each other’s coats and scarves. Her mind was running a mile a minute, her scalp tingling with electricity; white noise over the scrape of his teeth against her skittering pulse.

Her thoughts fragmented. At Fittes. In his room. In her apartment. His typewriter sitting glossy, polished, untouched, maddening -

George Karim was the most affected prick she had the misfortune of knowing. It was bad, bad luck that she was so irrevocably tied to him.

TAGLIST: @cielooci @mohinithoughts @neewtmas @snoopyluver20 @ell0ra-br3kk3r @ahead-fullofdreams @elenianag080 @avdiobliss @mischivana @mitskiswift99

#lockwood and co #lockwood & co #lockwood and co netflix #fanfic #fanfiction #george karim x reader #george karim imagine #george karim

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communistkenobi · 13 days ago

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ok conclave thots (spoilers)

trying very hard to set aside my feelings on the Catholic Church to evaluate this movie. It’s quite beautiful, everything has a very solid physical presence, big wooden doors thunking, columns of stone and marble, thick robes, luxurious physical sets. Really enjoyed the cinematography. The cast was all really enjoyable aside from Stanley Tucci, not bc he’s a bad actor but I could not be sold on him being a cardinal. he seemed generally out of place. Although he was clearly there to be a bit ‘out of place’ as a figure for liberal Catholics, like definitely the type of guy who would think creating an anime girl avatar for the Catholic Church would be a good move to modernise the church. Actually maybe he was good in that movie I change my mind.

He did also demonstrate the complete failure of liberalism to respond to right wing rhetoric - all he says in response to Tedesco’s islamophobic rant about the need for religious intolerance is “you should be ashamed of yourself!”, just totally unable to address Tedesco’s fixation on conducting religious warfare. The film is centred around the church’s need to manage its public image, making multiple references to the recent international outcry over the church’s systemic sexual abuse problems, its homophobia & anti-abortion views that are increasingly falling out of favour, and the general trouble the church has with the press. There is a clear emerging clash between tradcaths and liberal Catholics that are fighting for dominance in the church. The film ultimately finds synthesis between these two poles in Benitez, a man who conducted missions in ‘war torn’ countries such as the Congo and Afghanistan (thus having a more genuine connection to religious intolerance than privileged, out of touch conservatives like Tedesco) but despite that still desires to promote unity and tolerance, and at the last hour is revealed to be an intersex man who was counselled by the pope to get a hysterectomy (and decided against it), as if literally embodying the tension between these two positions within the church. Not sure how I feel about that lol, intersex characters are so rare and he’s not treated as a punchline, they even do the “born this way” thing with it as like god made him intersex. so like props for that I guess.

overall a very goofy person’s idea of power and politics but it was a fun watch and I had a good time. Kinda soured on how ridiculous it is that Benitez would pull a super-majority from a single speech to Tedesco about him not knowing anything about “real war” and the need for unity - like idk I remember learning about Mehmet Ali Acğa’s assassination attempt of the pope and how virulently Islamophobic the response was from the public & media, the idea that there would be a “Muslim terrorist” bombing (they leave it vague in the movie but that’s clearly what’s being evoked) in Rome that damaged the building or church or wherever the cardinals were, and the cardinals didn't all immediately side with Tedesco is pretty mind boggling lmao. Again trying very hard to set aside my thoughts on history and religious politics and just have a fun time with this one, but it’s hard to distance those things when the history being dealt with is so recent.

Ralph Fiennes owns in this movie though, great job from him and just what I wanted out of a Ralph Fiennes character. I really liked this review of it on Letterboxd

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its-actually-minicika · 2 years ago

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THW Aemond's Kink List (18+)

Pairing: Dark!Aemond x Reader;

Warnings: nsfw situations;

Author's Note: You made me do this. You created this monstrosity. I hope this is exactly what you wanted, you sick, sick ppl

I'm done forever I FEEL SO ASHAMED PLS STOP ASKING ME FOR THE LIST NOW I HAVE 2 NEW REQS THAT MENTION IT 😭😀

Just as the title says, this is a basic list that dives into what's going on in that (even more basic) head of his.

I ended up splitting this into halves - one that speaks of his kinks when engaging with a casual sexual partner, and the other that goes into detail about what he's like strictly with the reader.

With Someone He Doesn't "Love"

When it comes to having sex for the simple sake of it, Aemond is a hard dom. He takes what he needs, with little to no regard for the feelings of others, and immediately leaves thereafter.

Although he still likes to give pleasure in his own way, and knows that aftercare is important, he's taking part in an actual war. Which often means he's more needed somewhere else, and is always left pent up and frustrated.

On his partner:

Choking (Breath Play);

Surprisingly sensual - not at all what you'd expect, with how aggressive he is in "The Harshest Winters", outside the bedroom.

Bondage;

No, not with his eyepatch. It takes a lot of trust for Aemond to remove it in the presence of anyone, even more so in the presence of a bedmate. Still, he's not against using the ropes that secure his clothing, or the leathers that go around his waist.

Degradation (Humiliation Play);

It just gets him going - no surprises here.

Impact Play;

Spanking, hair pulling, mark leaving. He's a possessive man, and likes to see the aftermath of his sessions on his willing partner;

Begging;

He'll be as mean and cruel as he sees fit. And the more his lover begs, the harsher he gets.

Sadism;

As seen in "Begging". The bedroom is the one place where he can retaliate on all the shit that he's been through, on all the wrongs that he thinks have been commited against him. Unfortunately, his partner gets to feel the worst of it.

Orgasm Denial;

This is less for the sake of his bedmate's pleasure, as it is for the fact that he needs a lot of time to actually finish.

Aemond hyperfixates on things, and he likes the feeling of finishing at the same time as his partner.

Unless he's close to an orgasm, they won't feel the edge of relief anytime soon.

Sensory Depravation;

Blindfolds, blindfolds, blindfolds. He gets to feel in utter control, and his partner doesn't have to see his scarred face.

Somewhat Roleplay;

If he's been engaging in it before you, he demands his partner to call him their "King", or "Master".

But if it's post meeting you, he just pretends he's doing you, instead. Bonus, he might just choke out your name when he's done defiling you inside his mind.

Edging;

More or less something that's unintentional.

Spitting (?);

I haven't made my mind about this one. To me, THW Aemond is a very clean and up-kept person. He might deem both his seed and saliva to be something dirty, something that shouldn’t be spread around (lmao that's why Alys is pregnant, he just never pulls out).

So if he does spit in someone's mouth, it's more so to degrade them further, or assert his claim over them.

Breeding Kink;

Come on.

We've all seen it coming - nobody's surprised with that one.

Oh himself:

Edging;

If he can spare the time, and he actually likes his bedmate, Aemond would like nothing more than to be edged like no tomorrow - but on his terms.

No, he won't sub for anyone he doesn't love and fully trust, no matter how fond he is of them.

He likes edging, it makes his release all the sweeter, but he'll still be in full control over what's going on, always on top. He controls the pace, the how's and when's, anything really.

Praise;

He loves being told how good he is, and how well he's fucking his current partner.

When it comes to praise, they can be as graphic and as loud as they want (it's actually encouraged, to be honest). The more he's complimented on his skill and stamina, the more fired up he gets.

Size Difference;

He likes to feel big, looming over someone.

He's always been the tiny, and helpless younger brother. Twice as small as Aegon while growing up, the laughing stock of his siblings and nephews.

Aemond loses his mind when his partner is smaller than him (heightwise - weight doesn't really impact him). It makes him feel dangerous and primal, to be able to manhandle someone as he sees fit.

Overstimulation;

This one's also a "only if he likes his lover" kind of deal.

He'll keep pounding in them, well after his initial release; and if his partner times this well, praising him throughout it, he might just finish inside them twice.

BONUS:

Favourite Positions to do the do:

Reverse cowgirl, doggy style, C.A.T, standing, against pieces of furniture or against the wall.

But How Is Aemond With Someone He Cannot Live Without?

If he actually gets you willingly in bed with him (consent is still very important to him), Aemond is a service dom, a very needy and clingy top, and he does border on being a sub.

I'll get this out of the way right now: yes, he would MUCH rather you still be a virgin by the time you guys make love. It's not about purity culture, but he does want to be your "one and only", your first and last.

He's so obsessed and possessive over you, that the simple thought of another man touching what's his sends him in a downward spiral.

Still, if you aren't a virgin, and have some sexual experience of your own under your belt, he might turn your first time into a little game: based on how many men have made you cum, he'll give you 5 times as many orgasms.

You think that's a lot? You think that's impossible?

Don't worry, you have the whole day ahead. And you can always break fast in bed.

On Lady Tully:

Intimacy;

He might not look or sound like it, but this man is whipped and very much soft for you - above all else, he craves that pure intimacy with you, and would do anything to bring you pleasure.

If you waited for your first "I love you" to happen while in bed with him, then Aemond came the moment you uttered the words to him.

Oopsies

Don't worry, though. Tell him you're proud of him, and that he rides the largest dragon in the world, and he'll be up and about again, 10 seconds tops.

Breeding Kink;

Obviously. He wants an army of babies with you, so uh... good luck.

Size Difference;

He revels in being able to grip you in ways that would be considered dangerous for others - a light hand over your neck, a squeeze of both your wrists as he pins you down.

He never once applies pressure, and he's far too scared to hurt you.

But he loves how tiny your hands are engulfed in his, how your eyes dilate as his bigger body presses deeply against yours.

Bondage;

If you want him to, he'll more than gladly tie you up and leave you bare atop the bed, completely at his mercy.

No, he still doesn't think to use the eyepatch - but if you tell him to do it, he will.

Overstimulation;

He would do it to you, again and again, until you can't breathe from pleasure anymore.

As opposed to how it was when he laid with other women, he overstimulates you purely for the sake of your own pleasure.

He wants to give everything to you. Since he's a man of few words (and the ones he ends up saying aren't always all that), his actions speak the loudest here.

Edging;

It makes him feel good, and it enhances his experience ten fold.

He wants to enrapture you in nothing but bliss - since edging works for him, it must work for you, too, right?

Multiple Orgasms;

Aemond is canonically pussy drunk. He'll stay inside you all day and steal as many orgasms as he can from you.

He's sure he loves you, and wants to take care of you. To him, making you cum around him is the best way to show you how sorry he is for all shit he put you though at the beginning of your relationship.

Knife Play;

... Dagger play.

He sees his blade as an extension of himself. Again, he would NEVER EVER hurt you, and would be very reluctant to even suggest such a thing to you.

If he sees you even slightly uncomfortable at the thought of it, he'll never ask you that again, and forget about the idea entirely.

But if you are game to experiment with him, then he'll gently graze the edge of the knife over your smooth skin (being very careful to not break in a single cut) and yeah, he will use the hilt to... you know.

Stop, he's actually so gross JSKKSKS

BODY WORSHIP;

He senses any insecurity you may have and makes it a point to make that part of your body his new praying altar.

Yeah, he's overcompensating for keeping you in a dungeon during the 1st month of your imprisonment.

Praise;

Loves whispering to you how good you're being for him, how good you make him feel, how much he loves you.

Marking;

You're all his now, and he lives to show it.

If you're modest, and don't like people staring at your hickeys and red marks, prepare to be wearing high collars all the time, even in the midst of summer.

Oral;

If he could spend his whole life with his lips over your cunt, Aemond would die a happy man.

The first time he ate you up, he immediately came into his pants.

Naww, that's just sad, dawg

Light Roleplay;

If you aren't married yet, he 100% roleplays that you're his wife in High Valyrian.

He actually proposes to you in High Valyrian everytime he cums.

BAHAHA IT'S TRUE

The beauty of role-playing with Aemond is that you don't even have to pretend to be anyone else. He does all the work in a language you already know.

He thinks he's very slick with it, but one day you'll stop abrupty and actually give him a reply, and he'll go completely nuts

Voyeurism;

He likes to focus on you pleasuring yourself with no other distraction, and focus in on your face.

He's been engaging in this ever since you started sleeping in his Chambers, let's be honest: sure, you're not actually doing anything sexual in the beginning of your stay with him, but Aemond finds anything you do alluring.

Brushing your hair, yawning, reading a book - everything gets him going.

On himself:

Anything.

Okay, there are some exceptions to this rule, but this isn't a joke. As stated before in his inner thoughts, this man will take ANYTHING that you willingly give him.

If you're into hitting him, slapping him, marking him, pulling his hair, denying him release, degrading him, spitting on him, stepping on him, whatever else - he's more than 1000% down for all that.

You could be so cruel to him, and he'd still be more than thankful just for getting you naked.

Since it's coming from you, and he's so "in love", Aemond won't bat a single eyelash at you, no matter what you suggest him to do.

Even so...

Hair Pulling;

It's one of his favourites. He couldn't tell you why, but he quietly loves it when you try to assert dominance over him;

Praise;

I don't need to elaborate.

Edging;

It prolongs the intimate moment with his lady, and it tests his self-control and focus.

Overstimulation;

He sees it as a very intimate experience, and he doesn't do it with everyone.

It's even more different when he does it with you - he sees it as a wordless way to surrender to you, and let you do whatever you want to him.

While he needs to be in full control with a random lover, Aemond easily lets go with you, and enjoys the stability that comes with the unexpected. You decide how everything goes, you run the show with him.

Knife Play and Blood Play;

He thinks it's really exhilarating to be at your mercy. It takes a lot of trust from him to be suggesting such a thing.

Multiple Orgasms;

He's been with plenty other women, and his sex drive isn't as high as you'd expect. But there's something that you do to him that makes him insatiable.

Light Bondage;

Yep. Tie him up a little bit and use him to your heart's content.

Mutual Masturbation;

Mhm.

BONUS:

Favourite positions to do the do:

Side-by-side scissors, spooning, missionary, mating press, legs on shoulders, standing, cowgirl

#the harshest winters #aemond smut #aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #aemond imagine #dark aemond x reader #dark aemond targaryen #now that we're done with this i'll crawl back into my hole #is this who we are??? is this what we represent???#i pray for the absolution of our collective sins

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fatum679 · 8 months ago

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I don't understand why people claim Al*s is going to be the only person the !Show Aemond ever cared about. Like we already know he's a dutiful son. He's also very protective towards Helaena (he literally shields his sister with his own body when Rhaenys ruins Aegon's coronation). In addition, Aemond's twisted relationship with Aegon is really interesting. I'd also say he's a father figure to Helaena's kids (judging from their reaction to Alicent, calling for her father Otto ❤️). Imo it will be such a pity if they reduce the realm of Aemond's feelings and emotions to just obsessing over his love interest.

Hello!

This will not happen, I am one hundred percent sure.

Alys stans says this because she wants to.

We have already seen Aemond in the first season: he takes care of his mother, Helaena, and children. I don't believe he will leave his family. Regarding Aegon, everything is complicated, Aemond demonstrates hostility (?) towards Aegon, there is no brotherly love between them (!). Relationship between Aegon and Aemond: "You may cuff him about as you wish at home, but in the world, we must defend our own" Sorry, but this is a fact. Perhaps everything will change in the second season? I really hope so.

Aemond doesn't abandon his family, not even in the book, I don't believe he did that, I think there's a lot left unsaid and unrevealed. Alicent said: "The city is yours, princess, but you won’t hold it for long. Rats play when the cat is away, but my son Aemond will return with fire and blood" Alicent knew her son better, and she knew that he would not leave her and Helaena. There must be a serious reason.

"Prince Aemond favored an immediate attack upon King’s Landing. None of the queen’s dragons were a match for Vhagar, he insisted"

I don’t like the character Alys, I’m not sure that I will have a different relationship with the show Alys. She looks a lot like Mysaria. I think Alys mur***ed all her children to preserve her youth - that's what you read between the lines.

I can’t support alysmond because I don’t believe in this ship, I don’t believe that there was love between them. Aemond destroyed House Strong, just as Aegon the Conqueror destroyed the family of Harren Hoar. alysmond is a crack ship, as if Harren had a daughter who, after her family was destroyed, fell in love with Aegon and had a child with him (If Helaena had fallen in love with Daemon). Maybe "stockholm sy***ome"? The whole story of alysmond is like a rumor - a rumor that Alys spread to establish his power in Harrenhal. Why didn't she save Aemond if she knew he was going to die and did she love him? Because from Alys’s side, Aemond’s death is an excellent revenge for the house Strong.

I think Alys will manipulate Aemond by threatening his family that she saw them die. I think there will be a deal between Alys and Aemond: he will spare her life, and she will look to the future for him.

I also don't believe Alys's child is Aemond's. You know, it’s very strange that she didn’t contact Aegon to make her son heir and marry him to Jaehaera. Alys called her son king, “kneel before your king,” but did not fight for his rights. Maybe because he is not Aemond's son? Maybe because she used this child, and when she realized that she had lost, she mur***ed him to preserve her youth? There are a lot of questions.

Aemond is a supporter of valyrian traditions “...strengthen the family. Keep our Valyrian blood pure” I don’t believe that after these words he voluntarily decided to conceive a child with Alys Rivers and be with her. Maybe Alys is a hidden Valyrian or Targaryen? (lmao)

It's funny that many of the TG (I'm not anti-TG) love alysmond ship, but condemn demira ship (I don't support daemira and tb) because of the large age difference between Daemon and Rhaenyra, although the age difference between Aemond and Alys is also very large, and this relationship can be called pe... too

Forgive me if you love alysmond and don't take my words if they hurt you, you can support any ship you want. You asked me and I answered you 🙏🏻

Thank you for your question. I hope you understand my English 🙏🏻

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a0random0gal · 1 year ago

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Guuys i'm back! And with the finest team black arguments in town! Today our contestant is:

"Alicent is an evil bitch for trying to expose Rhaenyra's sons as bastards, she could have gotten them killed!"

This one is surprisingly popular amongst the blacks, but unsurprisingly dumb. And I'll say why:

First things first, can someone explain to me the reason behind everyone's belief that the strong boys would be killed for this? They are just kids, who took no part in Rhaenyra's lies regarding their legitimacy. The poor children actually believed they were Laenor's sons! (Well except Jace but whatever.)

The real culprits in this mess are their parents, who willingly had them while being fully aware that if exposed on their bs they would be punished. The boys wouldn't be harmed at all, the worst thing that would happen to them would be losing the Velaryon family name, becoming Waters, and getting kicked off the line of succession.

Sucks for them but definitely better that a sword in the neck.

Speaking of their parents. Nyra would have to be disinherited for attempting to put her baseborns on the throne, cheating on her spouse and generally bringing so much shame to the royal family.

Sucks for her too, but you know, reap what you sow girl. You knew the risks.

The one who would actually face serious consequences would be Harwin, for sleeping with the princess and all. Normally he would probably have to be executed, but not before being given the chance to take the black, which he would definitely pick.

So yeah, sucks for you sure, but you keep your head, your dick, and only lose your inheritance. Lmao on second thought this would be a better alternative for him, Larys wouldn't have to kill him to inherit, and he'd be freezing his ass on the wall instead of burning it in Harrenhall.

Happy ending for Lord Strong.

And with that said Alicent would not be causing the deaths of innocent kids and would be able to secure the future reign of her son, so why exactly would that make her an evil selfish bitch? When has trying to avoid your children's inevitable execution at the hands of their half sister been a bad thing?

Team black only really wants Ali to bend over and die, just so that their feminist queen can take over lol. They unironically demand a woman to give up all her agency for someone else, how progressive of them.

Funny how I made this long ass post explaining how Nyra would have to face the consequences of her actions for once in her life but obviously this would only happen in an au where Vizzy was an actual competent king who didn't just live to give his "only child" all that she asks him to.

In our timeline he would just keep denying their bastardry and cutting tongues of all who disagree. And if it became impossible for him to deny reality anymore, he would immediately pardon Nyra and Harwin and legitimize the Strongs, then promptly pretend that nothing happened. It would be infuriating, but also hilariously bad ngl.

#Alicent literally cannot win in this world #i'm telling you one day they will start blaming her for existing #house of the dragon #alicent hightower #hotd #anti team black #pro team green #anti viserys i targaryen #pro alicent hightower #Rhaenyra targaryen #harwin strong #jacaerys velaryon #lucerys velaryon #joffrey velaryon #laenor velaryon #larys strong

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lovejosephquinn · 2 years ago

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Authors Note: This took me 5 hours so I hope you enjoy, I'm really hoping you all enjoy it since I've hyped it up no end lmao 💀🥰

Summary: After a bad break up, your best friend Joe is there to pick up the pieces, the best friend you could ever have hoped for. Except falling for him wasn't ever planned but it's impossible not to when he makes it feel so damn easy

Warnings: reference to cheating, mild violence and angst, fluff and smut. All the categories mixed into one, under 18's DNI. Friends to lovers trope

Word Count: 4.8k

Taglist: @eddiemunson-mylove @choke-me-eddie @quinnypixie @capricornrisingsstuff @ali-r3n @aol19 @aysheashea @wonderheartz @shawnamae87

Something in the back of your mind knew it was a bad idea taking back your ex boyfriend, you'd contemplated the idea of not doing it but you listened to your head more than your heart and instead of standing up for yourself, you'd played into his hands and found yourself heartbroken yet again. You just never seem to learn and clearly this was your own problem to deal with, he'd cheated on you the first time and as the saying goes; once a cheat always a fucking cheat.

You fell to the floor the moment you received the direct message from the random girl who'd sent you a video, him and her together, doing the dirty. She'd found out from a mutual friend of a friend that he was already in a relationship and decided to come clean to you. Not that it made the situation any better, but at least she understood the girl code of sisters before misters.

You sobbed, hugging your knees, your mind all over the place, intrusive thoughts, valid feelings that you were sure to be having; yet there in one respect was nobody to blame but yourself. He'd given you a form of anxiety since the first time he'd done this to you, but it's hard to get out of feeling for someone once you're deep in it, your walls come crashing down once you've entrusted the person you're supposed to be with and then they break you as easily as they fixed you in the beginning.

The whole time you weren't sure whether you wanted to be alone but at the same time you didn't know if you needed the company to help you escape these disgustingly real thoughts which alluded your brain. You had a comfort blanket, your best friend. You didn't want to bother him and once you'd told him you knew he was likely to kick off at you and say the dreaded words of I told you so. It was irritating to know that he was that way inclined, but you knew he'd be right, you'd of probably done the same thing if it were the other way around.

You looked a mess, tears stained your soft cheeks which felt hot to the touch, you felt like you were going to throw up, your hands were shaking, you'd thrown your phone to the other side of your bedroom after receiving the message, screaming in the space of your new found loneliness. It should surely hurt less the second time but it doesn't, it feels worse. You were stupid.

You crawled over to your phone in hope that it'd sort your problems out, you knew you had to make the call, you needed your best friend by your side even if it meant him pissing you off. You looked pathetic, making those stupid whimpering sounds whilst you moved forward, settling yourself on your knees, you pressed onto your contacts, onto Joe's name and your thumb hovered over the green phone icon.

Through blurry eyes you did it and the tone began to blast through your speaker, you heard his voice immediately after which calmed you more than you could've imagined. It was like you'd lost your voice, a simple hello was not easy to respond to when you were in the midst of an almost panic attack. You could've just pretended like you'd pocket dialled him and ended the call, but you just couldn't find it in yourself to hang up on the one person you relied on when you were in such a mess.

"Y/N? Hellooooo?"

"I- I-" You stuttered out, a sharp breath following.

"Are you ok love?"

Your tears immediately resumed on queue. Calmness disintegrating.

"I'll take that as a-"

"No. No I'm not." You interrupted quickly, finishing his sentence for him.

"What the fuck did he do to you?" Joe was quick in assuming and quite right to his guess in why you weren't sounding great.

"What makes you think-"

"Don't play dumb with me darling, I recognise that tone of your voice from the last time that dick hurt you. I swore to you last time I'd let it go, but you made a mistake in going back to him, you forgave him and I know that cry when I hear it."

You absolutely detested how he knew you so well, for the good and for the bad.

"Hit the nail on the head there Joey." You sniffled your nose followed by another hitch of your throat, you dragged yourself over to the wall, backing yourself onto it, reinstituting your previous position, knees back up to your chest.

"I knew it. Do I need to go and commit a crime?" You closed your eyes and shook your head, for all you knew Joe was being serious and would get himself into trouble just for you, he was just that involved in your friendship, cared for you like nobody ever had.

"No. Please don't." You could've sounded like you were begging for him to not, but at the same time you'd of done anything to watch Joe punch his lights out for what he'd done to you.

"And are you going to stop me?"

"Look, I just need you here with me. Are you going to get off of your high horse and do your best friend duties?"

"Are you going to take him back again?"

"No." You sighed.

"No offence, but I'll believe it when I see it." You could've heard a pin drop, way to break your heart even further Joe.

"Please just come over and give me one of those special hugs, I could really do with that shit right now, not with your sarcastic tone of voice that I know and hate."

Joe hummed a snigger, you knew he was trying to joke around with you, but you were having none of it.

"I'm on my way, stay put." Joe ended the call, not like you were going anywhere in this state, but you could only handle being alone for so much longer before you broke down into a state where in the present you weren't sure you could come back from. The best part is that you were just presupposing that Joe was as free as a bird for you, but regardless to your own knowledge; this man would end whatever he was doing at the drop of a hat to be next to you.

You felt like you'd waited a lifetime for the knock at your door and when it came you found some energy to get up off your ass and answer it, the person you'd least expected to be there stood before you.

"Well you look a state." You've got to be fucking joking.

"Get the fuck away from me, I never want to see you again." You bellowed loudly, not even feeling an ounce of quiet in you, the anger seeping out quite abruptly.

"What're you on about?" Oh so he wanted to play dumb.

"Once a cheat always a cheat, get out of my life, I gave you one more chance and you blew it."

"Have you any proof?" He chuckled and you could've swung for him there and then.

You clutched your phone, bringing it up to unlock it with your face ID, pushing the video brightly showing on the screen, the noises that made you want to barf were shattering. His eyes grew wide. Your now ex boyfriend took your phone from your grasp and launched it across the room where it hit the nearby wall, a smash of glass was apparent in it's fall to the ground.

"No proof then." What a malicious bastard.

"How dare you." You ball your fist, bringing it up to and smashing straight into his cheek, violence is never the answer as your mum has taught you through life, but god knows he deserved it.

"Touch me again bitch I fucking dare you." Before you could even step back, his hand was wrapped around your throat, pulling you up onto your tip toes and throwing you back toward the wall your phone had landed. You saw your life flashing before your eyes, not once would you have ever imagined he'd lay a finger on you, a defence mechanism maybe for you striking him? You couldn't be making excuses because there were none for his own violent behaviour, except a pure guilty conscience.

"Get- off- me!" You stuttered as his grip intensified.

"Don't think you're ending things, you won't be going anywhere, you'll come back, you proved by doing that this time." How was he that entitled? You'd took him back based on the bullshit he'd fed you that he'd changed; where as you'd learnt he had not.

"You're- a- fucking- joke." You wheezed, an evil burst of laughter breaking out from the depths of your lungs.

"Takes one to know one." Suddenly, he was launched backwards, a thunderous screech was heard from him and he lost his grip on you and fell to the floor from the force in which he was manoeuvred back.

"Get the fuck off her if you know what's good for you mate." Your ex looked up to see Joe towering over him, a quick shoot of a look to you from your best friend he saw the sorrow in your eyes as you held onto your throat, catching the oxygen that you'd solely missed for a couple of minutes.

"Oh look, your best friend who clearly fancies you to the rescue, surprised you didn't fuck him whilst you were with me." Joe bent down slightly, taking a hold of his t-shirt and bringing him up to his feet back on eye level.

"You're a waste." Joe's pupils had dilated into a state of anger in which you'd never seen before, a different side to him in which you quite enjoyed, way over protective and way over his usual adorable state he carried 99.9% of the time.

"What you gonna do you pussy?" Your ex egged him on to take action upon his words and for the first time you saw Joe strike back. His knuckles caught him square in the nose, landing him straight back down on his behind. His nose seeped with blood and you cried out for them both to stop, your ex stood back up and Joe ragged him to the other side of the room, pushing him toward him and then back again.

"Come near her again, I'll fucking end you." Joe lowly whispered. A threat now made a promise. He wasn't joking.

Your ex stumbled out of the front door and Joe hung his head around to watch him leave until he was out of sight of the hallway of your flat complex. Joe slammed the door shut, bolting the door locked and rushed over to you in a hurry. Grabbing a hold of you instantly, pushing your head onto his chest, one hand soothed your back whilst the other held onto the back of your head.

"It's really over Joe." You couldn't help the overly loud, obnoxious tears that consumed your entire being. You were shaking and so was he, both from different states of anger, stress and upset.

"I know darling, I know." He didn't want to say it, he didn't want to give you the whole talk, that could wait until you'd stopped crying at least. Joe held you in pure silence for a good 10 minutes, stood in the same position, the scent of him engulphed your nose as you wept and wet through his jumper that he wore. Homely. Beautiful. Dreamy.

"Everything will be okay, you know that right? It might not seem that way now, but maybe this needed to happen for you to realise that you can do so much better, you deserve everything above what that prick has done to you." You managed a brief smile and you could realise that he felt it from the way you felt his heart thump in his chest and in turn, his reaction reflected upon yours, your stomach feeling nauseous but in turn relieved from the butterflies which flew through your stomach. Not the first time you've felt that around him, but you never acted on it, shrugging it off; this time felt different.

"You hear me? Tell me you know it'll be alright and that you won't do anything stupid."

"I hear you."

"Tell me." Joe put his hands to your arms, bringing you back to look at you full on, his natural chocolatey gaze which warmed right through you came back to light and you couldn't deny him of his need of response.

"It'll be alright..." You paused.

Joe tried to offer you a sympathetic smile, the type you give to someone in need.

"As long as you're around." You whispered.

"Always." Joe pulled you back in for another sweet hug, not lasting as long this time, he took your hand and brought you over to a more comfier place, also known as your sofa.

You sat across from him but was immediately invited back into his arms, it was a welcoming view and you couldn't actually wait to be back in them. At this point, he wasn't your best friend, he was your hero. You'd shared a moment more intimate in the least intimate of ways and it just felt unlike any other time you'd shared an embrace.

You settled down with your head on his lap, his fingertips played with your hair, brushing through them with no tangles in sight. You were in a calmer state, less tears and less heavy breaths, the air refilling your lungs perfectly. You found your eyes heavy from the amount of anxiety you'd undertaken in the last hour, a lot for the heart to handle.

You opened your eyes in a slightly confused daze, you rolled over to see Joe take his eyes from his phone which he was just aimlessly scrolling through, his smile so much brighter than the last you'd seen it. "Hello sleeping beauty." You rubbed your hands over your face, slightly embarrassed that you'd fallen asleep under the circumstances you had.

"I'm so sorry I dozed off."

"Don't apologise, you looked cute, so was the little snores." You lifted your hand up to tap his face making him laugh out, there's the Joe you knew and loved. Loved.

"Shut up I do not snore."

"I beg to differ." Joe laughed again and it made you giggle in turn.

"Slight change of subject, but I heard a song I've not heard for years whilst you were asleep and it made me think of you. Especially relevant to times like this." Not that he had to bring up the situation of today, but it was necessary to his point.

"Oh yeah what's that?" You saw his cheeks flush and you were not sure if it was rapid regret or that he'd just made it up to bring up a different conversation; but then why would he talk about the whole ordeal?

"Don't cringe at me for this." You chortled his way, his cheeks now a crimson red, he was biting down on his bottom lip and you quickly shut up to show an ounce of respect for what he clearly wanted to show to you.

"Cross my heart and hope to-" You were cut off when he leaned up to stand in front of you, your head thumped down onto the sofa in the warm spot where he'd been pressed to it.

"Don't finish that sentence, up you get." He offered out his hand and you gladly took it, a bemused look upon your features.

He pressed play on his Spotify and threw the phone down onto the sofa, you were suddenly in a state of pure bliss when you heard the notes begin.

If you ever find yourself stuck in the middle of the sea I'll sail the world to find you If you ever find yourself lost in the dark and you can't see I'll be the light to guide you Joe pulled you into him once more, but began swaying from side to side, you were astonished that this side was coming out of him, a private moment you were sharing together, closer than you'd ever felt before with your best friend. Emotions screaming loud and clear. As per, you'd really never acted on them, but there was clearly some hidden feeling toward him that you didn't want to bring to light and make exist, but with this meaningful song playing in the background, it was out of the question for you to not go down that road.

You thought your ears had deceived you when you heard Joe's voice whispering into your hair, slowly moving down towards your ear when the chorus began.

You can count on me like one, two, three I'll be there And I know when I need it, I can count on you like four, three, two And you'll be there...

You'd never believed the words of a song like you did now Joe was singing them at you. You felt alive, electricity was greedily taking over the entirety of your body. You hummed along to the sound of the music, Joe's hands wrapped further around your back, still swaying he continued to voice the lyrics right at you.

You'll always have my shoulder when you cry I'll never let go, never say goodbye You know

As the final chorus blossomed through your ear drums and the song died down, you felt yourself welling up again, though this time you were beaming, you pulled back to take a look at an even more blushed look on Joe's face.

"I hope-"

"That was beautiful, Joe."

"Don't ever let anyone think you're worth any less than that ever again. I for one won't let a soul do so." Joe cooed at you in a mild whisper.

"You're truly amazing." You fluttered your eyelashes down to the ground and you felt the touch of his thumb lifting your chin to look back at him again.

"Is this the part where I confess?" Joe sighed.

"Confess?" Your eyebrows furrowed.

"The song meant more to me than you know and I want you to be able to count on me today and every day after that." You were suddenly sinking into a hole that you didn't want to get out of, you knew exactly what he meant but you wanted to hear it for yourself.

"Nobody will never hurt you again." Joe paused, his hand coming up to your cheek which you innocently tilted to lean on.

"As long-"

"As long as I'm around." Joe smiled, his face grew ever closer. It was more a need than a want now and despite everything that had happened today, reality was coming to light and though you should of probably stopped it there, you didn't.

Your lips collided together in a soft, warm and with meaning kiss. It was like in the movies, when two friends found themselves in this situation, usually fireworks would set off behind them and it'd be a happy ever after type scenario, but this was real life and you knew there'd be hurdles, but you'd cross that bridge when you came to it. No matter how hard your brain told you to stop, your heart begged you not to, you were right in doing so; you listened to your head last time and look where that got you.

Your lips stuck together like glue, becoming more open mouthed now, no tongues but complete passion, something that should not feel so good with what felt almost disallowed, you were tasting forbidden fruit. After what felt like hours, you both let go, panting for breath, staring directly into each others souls, a sweet split second turned heated.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't help myself."

"Do not apologise, I- I liked it." You bit down on your lip and he took full note of your body language, eyes flitting between your own and back down to your mouth again.

"That's hot." He bit down on his own lip.

"Ditto." You smirked, matching the wickedly framed smug look staring right back at you.

"For me, it's always been you." Joe's confession. There it was. Handed to you on a plate.

"Maybe I never knew truly, but I do now. Ditto." You mimicked his own version of ditto. The minute the word left your mouth he picked you up, throwing a squeak out of you from not expecting his sudden move, but excited nonetheless.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, arms wrapped around his neck as his mouth attacked to yours once more, more fiercely this time, the fireworks well and truly working their magic. You found yourself against a wall for the third time today but this time it was in good stead, you were making out with your best friend, something you never thought would happen in your wildest dreams. You suddenly could feel his erection pressed against your crotch, slightly rubbing against you which made you shudder under his touch.

"Too much?" Joe spoke through your kiss.

"Too little." You replied.

Joe carried you back to the sofa, slipping you down and climbing on top of you before returning his lips to their rightful place. Tongues fought together wildly this time, noses crushed against each other, teeth clattering, slight groans erupting from each of you as he grinded down back into the same spot he was just pressed into.

He moved down to your neck, sloppily leaving a trail of his own saliva down it which blew heat down to your core, an ache which made you thrust in time to Joe's hip movement, his own little moan giving out.

You tugged at his shirt, dying for the moment you'd start to undress.

"Too much?" You hummed a giggle.

Joe leaned up, removing his shirt and tossed it to the floor beside him.

"Too little." He wiggled his eyebrows forcing another laugh out of you. This time he made his way down, peeling down your trousers in turn.

"Can I? I'm dying to taste more of you." You shoot him a mhmm as a way of silently pleading for him to get on with it.

You shimmy off the bottom half of your clothing as Joe slips himself off the sofa to position himself better, he pulls your underwear to the side, his eyes almost bulging out of his skull.

"What a beautiful pussy you have, holy shit." Joe slides a finger in a straight line between your slit, eyes fully trained on you when he puts it into his mouth and shares a sound of pure delight.

"Fuck yes..." He widens your legs and pushes his face between your folds, instantly sucking at your clit, giving you no room to adjust, eating you out like a ravenous animal, tongue swirling around, curing the aches in which you craved to be touched. Effortlessly, he inserts a finger straight through your entrance, curling it up to feel your walls, the thickness of them makes your back arch, especially as his mouths fully latched onto you with brute force, licking every part of your slick that he can manage.

"J-Joe oooh my- god. Yes." Your hands fall onto his curls, pulling at them, urging him by pressing him down so you could feel more, you wanted more, you needed more.

"You like that, baby. Do I make you feel good?"

"Fuck, more." You can barely speak.

He pushed another finger in, joining the other to stretch you out, your walls hugged his digits as you clenched firmly, writhing your hips back and fourth, riding his fingers as well as you could manage. You could feel the inevitable waiting to happen and just before it did, he made a swap, pulling his fingers out which immediately began rubbing erratically against your clit and his tongue pressed inside your entrance.

You moaned his name countless times, pain not a problem when you were almost yanking at his hair a top his head. The little sounds he made as he darted his tongue in and out of you threw you over the edge, your soul leaving your body and joining the angels in heaven, a slight black out on your part.

Joe watched on as you squirmed about the sofa whilst your orgasm took over you. "Fuckkk, atta girl. That's what I like to see." Once you'd come back down to reality, Joe had already rid of his own trousers, you witnessed his cock for the first time and my god did you like and extremely enjoy what you saw.

"Do you want me to-"

"Joe, just fuck me already." He'd well and truly got you in the mood.

"Yes ma'am." He choked a chuckle, putting a hand up to his head to salute like a soldier.

You went back to biting down on your lip when you saw him spit down onto his shaft, quickly fisting it and tipping his head back.

"God damn it Y/N. I'll bite that lip for you if you carry on."

You resumed in biting down on it once more and you moved into laying back across the sofa, he climbed back on top of you, holding himself up with his hands and leaning down to take your lip between his teeth before tugging it back.

"Don't test me woman." You both sniggered.

"Fuck. Me." You said sternly. He slowly pushed himself inside of you, making you both let out a breathless moan, as tight as you felt to him was how big he was feeling to you, a perfect match. As Joe adjusted himself, he grabbed a hold of your legs and hoisted them over his shoulders for deeper contact, he began to move at a slow pace. You could feel every inch thrusting through you, it was already the best sex you'd ever had, purely because the meaning behind it was something words could never describe.

You made a sound which made some halt to a stop, a worried look on his face.

"Too much?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Too fucking little." You licked your lips.

That was it. He pounded into you, he understood the assignment, you liked it rough, he knew you wanted to be fucked senseless, to forget everything that had happened today and the only way that was now going to happen was if he railed you to the extent you required.

His balls slapped against your ass, your walls clenching around him once more as he hit a spot which had you crying out a noise so loud, it was borderline pornographic.

"Fuck yes, take my cock!" He went harder, rutting his hips as fast he could, you could feel the tip tapping onto your cervix, pushing an orgasm straight out of you, the best part of it all; Joe felt the moment you did. He felt like the slick drip out of you and onto his balls, some even reaching the sofa.

"Where do you want me to- y'know." He panted.

"Anywhere, just cum for me." You whined, as desperate for his release as he clearly was, he wouldn't of mentioned it so quickly if he wasn't already nearing his limit.

Joe pulled out not a moment later, grabbing a hold of your hand and pulling you off the sofa and onto your knees, you acknowledged what he wanted. Opening your mouth, Joe wrapped his fist around his cock and began pumping toward you. Breath fiery and heaving out the air he had left in his lungs, he exploded when you took him into your mouth, his tip enclosed inside of it, gushing out heaps of his warm seed, you swallowed every last drop he had to offer.

You'd of thought after an encounter like this, it could've been the most awkward moment to share between you, but it was far from that. Joe pulled you back onto your feet and you held his hand as you took him into your bedroom.

"Didn't quite make it here huh?" Ugh Joe and his charming whit.

You fell onto the bed, not even worrying about the mess you'd made back in the living room. Joe crawled up next to you, pulling you into his arms, the best embrace you'd ever felt, skin to skin, bare and satisfied.

"Did I mention?" Joe asked.

"I don't know, did you?" You replied in an almost sarcastic tone.

"That I-" Joe pressed his mouth to your hair, your head laying on his chest hearing the beautiful beat of his heart in your ear, which was thrashing.

"I love you." Joe whispered, enough for you to make it out and enough for your own cheeks to flush this time.

"I- I love you too."

There it was. The true confession. The best friend who had been before you all this time felt like he could've been the one biding his time, waiting for you, to give you everything he possibly could. He could be the one who saved you, god knows he already had.

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