#lovely ange

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

Ahhhh I loved this!! Another Aemond sex pollen fic?? I think Christmas has come early 😍😍 and it's SO rare we get good Helaena content/smut and this really scratched that itch. I love that little bit at the end where it's like then BABAM

MAELOR

Ours Never Knew Peace

Pairing: Helaena Targaryen x Aemond Targaryen Warnings: Targcest/incest, explicit sexual content. Word count: ~3k

Summary: Helaena has grown weary of Aemond; though he is a welcome source of comfort outside of a loveless marriage that is for appearances only, he handles her with a gentleness that she knows is not his true nature. A chance discovery from a flower merchant upon the docks allows her to exert the control that, until now, has always eluded her.

Author's note: For @emilykaldwen and written for my Big Fucking Stupid Sex Pollen Writing Challenge. No tag list. Follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications.

Helaena felt irritable. She fidgeted as Aemond read to her, his soft voice doing little to ease her discomfort as he recited from the pages of Septon Barth’s ‘Dragons, Wyrms, and Wyverns: Their Unnatural History’. The fingers of her younger brother’s free hand seemed to snag upon every tangle in her hair as they stroked through it, making her wince. It was as though she could feel the very bones of his thighs digging into the back of her skull as she lay with her head in his lap. The mattress beneath her back was lumpy, the fabric of her gown too restrictive, the air itself seemed as though it meant to stifle her.

With a huff of frustration, she reached up, snatched the book from Aemond and snapped it closed, before tossing it carelessly onto the bed beside them. She scowled to herself, clasping her hands across her middle and twisting the rings upon her fingers as her brother looked down at her, his single eyed gaze narrowed in confusion.

“What did you do that for?” he asked, his hand stilling in her hair to rest gently at the crown of her head.

It was a reasonable question, but not one that Helaena had a good answer for. “I am bored.”

She noticed Aemond blink, the faintest twitch of his eyebrow. It would be an expression that would be easily missed by anyone else, but she knew it all too well – his feelings were hurt. She sighed, pulling herself into a seated position and resting against the headboard beside him. “I do not mean you are boring. I just mean…I am restless. I want to go out.”

Aemond hummed in acknowledgement, reaching for the book to place it upon the bedside table before turning to her. “We could take a walk around the gardens, or perhaps we could go flying. If I were to accompany you to the Dragonpit, you could meet me above the Kingswood once I’ve found Vha–”

Helaena groused in frustration, cutting him off, as she pressed the heels of her palms to her eyes. She allowed her hands to fall heavily back into her lap, balling into the soft satin, eggshell blue fabric of her skirts before she spoke again. “I mean out – like you and Aegon do. There is a market at the docks today, I have heard.” She watched as Aemond pursed his lips, his long fingers drumming anxiously against his thigh. He wanted to say no. She would not let him. “I will go anyway if you say no,” she urged, “would you not rather be there to ensure my safety?”

“Fine,” he muttered with a roll of his eye as his shoulders sagged in defeat.

Helaena fought the urge to giggle in triumph. She had known that would work. It always did.

Half an hour later, having ensured that Jaehaerys and Jaehaera were safely still in the care of the nursemaids, and would remain so, Helaena stood in her chambers draped in Aemond’s black woolen hooded cloak. It was ill fitting, almost sweeping the floor by her feet, and somehow much too large in the shoulders, while simultaneously not feeling roomy enough around either the chest or hips. However, if she felt silly then she could only begin to imagine how Aemond must feel having borrowed Aegon’s. She watched, biting back a laugh, as he wrinkled his nose, inspecting a deep, dark stain that smeared down the front of the cloak’s chest – if she had to guess, she would have said it was wine. She hoped it was wine. The hem of it barely reached his thighs, with the ends of the sleeves stopping well before his wrists. He looked like a praying mantis caught in a handkerchief.

“We could swap, you know?” Helaena offered, fiddling with the brass filigree clasp of Aemond’s cloak between her thumb and forefinger.

Her younger brother lifted his gaze to her, features twisted in disgust. “If you could smell this one, that is an offer of trade you would soon retract.”

He kept his hand at the small of her back as he ushered her through the passageway in the stone wall, only stopping to move in front of her and take her hand as he led her down the spiral staircase, and out and away from the Keep. He remained as her shadow as they picked their way quickly and carefully through the winding streets of King’s Landing, towards the docks of Blackwater Bay. Aemond and Aegon usually did much of their creeping out of the castle by nightfall, so had to be less careful when obscuring their appearance, as the darkness did much of the work for them. In the blazing sunshine of the day, Helaena longed to throw back her hood and let the breeze ruffle through her long silver hair, however, eager to keep their identities hidden, Aemond stopped at every corner to ensure that her head still remained fully covered.

Her younger brother’s protectiveness of her was a curse as much as it was a blessing. Her marriage to their elder, Aegon, had been one of duty – neither of them had wanted it – and she had expected to feel the same way about their child when she had learned she was expecting. However, when Jaehaerys and Jaehaera were born, Helaena had been filled with a love she did not know she was capable of. It spread through her body like honey, viscous and seeping into the very cracks of her soul. It had not been until after the twins were born that anything romantic had blossomed between her and Aemond. She had known that he had always desired her, he had expressed his wish to marry her on more than one occasion to their mother, but as Aegon was heir it had to be him she would be married to, his children she must bear.

Aegon did not touch her again once their children were born, considering his duty to both her and their family fulfilled. Lonely, and feeling self conscious about the changes that birthing twins had wrought upon her body, Helaena had sought comfort in the willing arms of Aemond, and it was nice – at first. He was protective and respectful, gentle and careful with her in a way that Aegon never was. He looked at her with such adoration as he coaxed tender pleasure from her body that it made her feel as though her heart would burst with the intensity of it. Over time, she grew bored of it. Helaena did not wish for devotion, or to be handled as though she was made of spun glass. She did not crave lovemaking. She wanted to know what it felt to be desired, to experience the raw, primal hunger of unbridled lust. She wanted to be fucked. She had seen the way that Aegon ogled the pretty young maid servants of the Keep and it made her feel envious – not of the broken vows that lay between them; they were as meaningless to her as they were to him. Helaena envied the maid servants because they knew what it felt like to be lusted after. She had attempted to guide Aemond’s hand on more than one occasion – presenting herself to him on all fours, or taking his hand to wrap it around her throat, he had maneuvered her onto her back, pulled his hand away, a look of concern on his face as he had uttered “I do not wish to hurt you.”

It seemed that Helaena was destined to remain unfulfilled – that was until she stepped into the market upon the docks.

The briny sea air carried with it the squall of swooping gulls upon the shoreline, their cries piercing through the thrum of the busy market. The scent of spiced meats being cooked over open flames carried with it a thick smoke, the tendrils of which stretched outwards before being carried towards the horizon. There were stalls selling more herbs than Helaena dared to count, silk merchants offering spools of fabric in numerous lurid shades, and jewellers peddling hammered brass jewellery inlaid with jewels that glittered in the sunlight. Each stall holder’s shouts to entice customers seemed louder than the last. Helaena walked slowly through the crowd, which parted wordlessly for her, all intimidated by the hooded spectre at her back. She was blissfully unaware of Aemond’s looming, silent presence though, too wide eyed with wonder at the sights, sounds and smells. All of her earlier overstimulation was long forgotten, replaced by burning curiosity which propelled her forward in earnest, she wanted to see everything.

As a trader pushed their overfilled wagon out of the way, Helaena had a clear view across the market, and her gaze was immediately drawn to a flower stand. Breaking free of Aemond’s grasp, she moved swiftly before the crowd could close in upon the gap that had been created, making her way towards it. It was not the colourful array of roses, gillyflowers or lavender that attracted her attention though – she had interest in only one flower. The full, frilly petals of large, white blossoms held her transfixed. She had only read about them in books, and seen them illuminated by maesters in the pages that presented their information to her. She knew they were used in perfumes, and their scent and pollen held a potency that when administered had a drastic effect on a person’s carnal desires.

“May I help you?” a woman with a thick Lyseni accent asked, stepping towards her. When Helaena finally tore her eyes away from the flowers, and looked at the merchant, she saw a kind face, framed by ebony curls pulled into a loose braid that draped over one slender shoulder. Her eyes were dark, vibrantly so in contrast with her golden brown skin. The steel bracelets upon her wrists tinkled gently with each movement of her hands.

“Are these spiceflowers?” Helaena asked, nodding towards the white blooms upon her cart.

The woman glanced over her shoulder at the flowers, then turned back to Helaena with a smirk. “Very well spotted. They are.”

Helaena grinned, excitedly rolling up onto the balls of her feet before settling firmly back on her feet once more. “I will take them all.”

The woman’s eyes widened momentarily, before she tilted her head. The sun caught her irises, turning them to pools of honey, making her seem almost feline as she regarded the princess with keen curiosity. “Are you aware of what these flowers…do?”

Helaena smiled wryly, casting a quick look behind her to ensure Aemond had not yet found her, then turned back to face the older woman. “Why else would I want to buy them?”

As she turned away, now cradling a large, parchment wrapped bouquet of spiceflowers, she collided with the chest of someone much taller than her. She lifted her eyes, met by the furious stare of her brother, his stern face partially obscured by both the hood of Aegon’s cloak and his eyepatch. “You must not run off like that”, he hissed, grasping her arm hard enough to make her wince in pain. He released her the moment he saw both her discomfort and attempt to shrink away from him. Aemond was thoughtless when angered, but even he knew that touch was a privilege that his sister did not bestow upon many, so it was not one he would abuse without consequence. His voice and demeanour softened in silent apology. “I was concerned for your safety.”

“We can go now,” she told him with an easy shrug, “I got what I wanted.”

“You made us come all this way for flowers?” he asked, unable to hide his sneer of derision as he looked down at the bouquet she held.

“The flower that follows the sun does so even on cloudy days,” she murmured to herself, gazing fondly down the pretty white bundle she held in her arms.

“Mmm, if you say so,” Aemond sighed, his touch now much gentler as he laid his hand upon her shoulder to guide her through the crowd and away from the docks.

His dismissal did not bother Helaena, she was used to it. Their mother, their grandfather, Aegon, no one in their family seemed to fully grasp the meaning of her words when she said them, choosing instead to wave her off as moon eyed and fanciful. She was happy to let them think that. Their underestimation of her was of little consequence to her when she knew exactly what she meant to say, and the importance of it. Perhaps after today, at least Aemond would finally hear her.

She lifted the bouquet to his face as they walked back the way they had come, giggling as he grimaced and spluttered, pushing the flowers away as he fought back a sneeze. “Stop that, you will draw attention to us,” he scolded quietly.

Helaena allowed her thoughts to consume her the rest of the walk back to the Keep. She thought of all the things she could do with her purchase – she could grind the flowers into a poultice to be brewed into a tea, or steep the petals with cinnamon to make perfume. She smiled to herself, imagining dabbing the concoction upon her wrists and using it to entice her brother to be more bold in his claiming of her.

By the time they made it back through the passageway in the wall of Helaena’s bedchamber, Aemond was visibly trembling, his breaths shallow, with sweat visible upon his brow. She knew that it was a warm day, and even she felt close to being too hot draped in his cloak, however, she saw no reason for him to be so affected. Aemond was physically fit, a walk from the Keep to the docks and back was not enough to exert him.

Realisation dawned upon her as she looked into his eye, seeing the way his pupil was blown wide, the way he watched her with almost predatory interest. It sent a shiver down her spine. She had not realised the flowers would have an effect on their own. Placing the paper wrapped bundle down upon a side table, she moved towards her brother, unclasping the cloak he wore and allowing it to drop from his shoulders – an attempt to cool him from the effects of the pollen he had doubtless inhaled on their walk home. In response, Aemond grasped her waist, pulling her to him. This time she did not try to shrink away; she welcomed the press of his arousal against her thigh, the roughness in his touch. Butterflies danced in her lower belly at the heat that radiated from his skin. There was something primal in the way that his body curled around hers, how he looked at her as though he meant to devour her. And despite it all, Helaena knew she was in control – for the moment.

“On your knees,” she uttered softly, reaching up to cradle the back of his neck.

Aemond needed no further instruction as he dropped before her, pushing her back against the edge of her vanity table as he parted the cloak she wore. Bunching fistfuls of satin in his fists, he pushed her skirts above her hips, dipping deft fingers beneath to drag the smallclothes down her stockinged legs, tossing them over his shoulder. She gasped, her back arching as he dove between her parted thighs, licking at her with the ferocity of a man starved. Helaena was not gentle as she tangled her fingers into his hair, holding him in place as she ground her hips, using him for her pleasure. He groaned, and the sound reverberated through her body, setting every nerve ending ablaze, as the ache within her grew to become near intolerable. She wanted the feeling to last, to keep his cheeks pressed against the plush softness of her inner thighs forever, but as he lashed at her pearl with the tip of his tongue, she came undone with a violent shudder. She yelped as her legs shook, bucking against his mouth as the hand not buried in Aemond’s hair scrabbled for purchase against the wooden surface of the vanity table.

Far from sated, her shaking hands met Aemond’s, helping him as he rose, his chin shining with the evidence of her arousal. He tugged at the lacings of her gown, pulling it from her shoulders and down her body. Her hands moved to the clasp of his cloak at her throat, but he stilled her.

“No, leave it on,” he commanded, voice gruff with unfettered lust.

Helaena trembled, a mixture of excitement, nervousness and pure need coursing through her as she sat bare before her younger brother, draped only in his cloak. He looked more beast than man, and as she reached to guide his face back between her thighs, he pulled away. His obedience had run its course, as had Helaena’s domination of him. She bit her lip, eyes wide as she braced herself against the table, sending glass bottles toppling over. He freed himself, and she had never seen him in such a state, so hard it appeared almost painful, the tip of him weeping with his own desire.

Aemond grabbed her, the predilection to be gentle long since past as he turned her swiftly, pressing her front flat against the surface upon which she had previously perched. As the blunt head of him pressed insistently against her slick entrance, Helaena lifted her gaze to the looking glass, a dreamy smile tugging at the corners of her lips as she watched. Her brother was a man possessed behind her, his fingers creating indents in the swell of her hips as he pulled her back towards him. 

Finally, Helaena knew what it meant to be desired, and ensured it was a feeling she never went without again. Less than a year later, she gave birth to her son, Maelor.

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[happilyhertale]

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hi hi can i also pretty please ✨

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[schniiipsel]

Send this to all your favourite moots (if you wish) and pass the pumpkin round! 🖤🎃🖤🎃

[ronanxing]

harana

[potchi-fics]

note: amab caitlyn. contains overstimulation, breeding kink, and jealous cait yummy. ang sarap niya fuckkkk sarap sarap sarap ALSO I DIDNT REALIZE THIS WAS SO LONG (not proofread. and i kid you not, my google docs crashed THREE TIMES while i was writing this. this is my new years present to yall--2024 may be down but cait's dick is up)

“darling, you know we have to go out in thirty minutes,” caitlyn’s distant voice called out from your closet.

you’re currently doing up your make-up in front of the mirror, doing finishing touches, “yeah, i know, baby. i’m about to be done. how about you?”

      you see her come out of the room, whistling when you see her outfit, it’s an all-black outfit: jacket with a black button-up, trousers, and loafers. simple yet elegant. she walks towards you while fixing the cuffs of her button-up.

“you look absolutely beautiful, darling,” her arms snake around your hips, kissing the side of your neck, “do we have to go?”

just in time to finish your make-up, a giggle escapes your lips, and you turn around to face her, your own wrapping around her neck, “you look gorgeous, baby. and you, house kiramman, are the ones hosting the gala, stupid.”

      she gives you a tight-lipped smile, her eyes squinting for a second but you see it, she doesn’t want to go. you gently pull her down, how she grew so much is still a mystery to you.

“it’ll be done before you know it,” you peck her lips, your lipstick leaving its mark on her—you rub it away tenderly, “come on, honey. we are gonna be late.” your kisses seemed to repeat, enunciating every word with a kiss.

caitlyn hums in content, her eyes closing, “you do realize your lipstick is fading the more you kiss me, right?”

“i’ll retouch in the car.”

…

      the gala is everything you expected: formal, rich people. you step into the venue and you immediately spot mrs. kiramman and her husband.

she hugs you, “i’m glad you two are able to make it.” she makes her way to her daughter, “surprised you’re here, can’t seem to pull you away from your work.”

“good thing i’m here, mrs. kiramman,” an arm wraps around your waist, kissing the top of your head, “caitlyn here is married to her work, i swear. and here i thought i was gonna be married to her first.”

“i am not married to my work.” caitlyn grumbles, sticking closer to you. “i am a very busy woman, is all.”

      you two converse with her parents for a while before an attending guest invited himself in your little party, taking away the older couple. that leaves the two of you alone. you grab a champagnes, offering caitlyn a glass. 

for about an hour or two, you two got separated, engaging other people. you give caitlyn a smile, who is on the other side of the room when you catch her gaze. she’s been watching you occasionally, keeping an eye on you.

and she doesn’t miss how a woman is trying to hit on you. of course, you’re oblivious to it. caitlyn’s eyes glint dangerously under the light, her teeth grinding when she sees the woman touch your arm, lingering for someone who’s supposed to be a stranger, undressing you with her eyes, and even going as far as touching your back, it barely made contact, but still. and that’s enough for her to down her champagne, make a beeline for to you, her strides strong and wide.

“oh, and this is my partner, caitlyn kiramman,” caitlyn rightfully takes her spot beside you, squeezing herself in between you and the stranger, “hi, honey.”

“hello,” she gives your little crowd a charming smile, though it holds a little bit of malice. she pulls you closer to her, “i may need to steal her away. we have some business to attend to, i’m afraid so.”

      without giving you a chance to talk, you two walk away—you’re glad though, you are tired of their stuffy personalities. a confused expression takes over your face when caitlyn leads you outside of the venue, leading you to a hallway and going through door after door.

your gaze observes the room, and you assume that the two of you are very far away from the party. she locks the door, unbottons her jacket, taking it off, and throws it on a couch.

“cait, where are w–”

      you didn’t get to finish your question because her lips were on yours the moment you spoke, her hand going on the side of your neck, fingers softly digging themselves into your skin to tilt your head up, deepening the kiss. 

you whimper when you feel her tongue take a swipe on your lips, asking you to open your mouth and you do. her tongue slithers in, licking every part of your mouth. she is demanding, yearning—like she wants all of you.

her knee presses between your legs, you let out a whimper of pleasure, grounding yourself on her thigh, your hands clutching the fabric of her shirt. 

“grind yourself on my leg, darling.” she pulls away to say, her voice deep and husky, “i’m waiting.”

      you’ve never been so happy to wear a side-slit dress. thanks to the access, you’re able to grind on caitlyn’s leg, rubbing your clothed pussy; the numb pleasure takes over your mind, caitlyn’s adding to your pleasure by leaving open-mouthed kisses on your neck, collarbone, lips, everywhere her lips could reach.

your hips stutter, and your clit going sensitive—it’s maddening, you need more. but caitlyn won’t give it to you, not yet. you let out a gasp, burying your head on her shoulder, the pleasure slowly taking over your whole being; it’s as if your body is on fire. 

you start to feel lightheaded. desperate for more, you grab your hand, leading it under your dress, your other tugging it higher, a flush creeping up your neck at the thought of doing this outside your home.

“hmm?” caitlyn knows how to make you beg, she resists your movements, throwing a teasing smile your way, “what is it you want, my love? i’m gonna need you to say what you want.”

you narrow your eyes at her, your gaze betraying the frustration you try to keep at bay, “honey, you dragged me here. take responsibility.”

“of course, darling.” caitlyn clutches a handful of your dress, crumpling it as she pulls it higher to expose your lower body. she removes herself from you and kneels, her hand gripping your undergarments, yanking it down in a rough, deliberate motion, taking it off of you. “i’ll take responsibility.”

      she puts one leg over her shoulder, caitlyn looking up at you as she takes one lick at your awaiting cunt, studying how close your eyes, head tilting back against the wall; watching how you stifled a gasp, but a faint sound slips through. 

desire coursed through her, undeniable and all-consuming—she went harder, deeper, sinking further into you, her nose bumping with your clit. your hands dart down, gripping her hair with desperation and need. she flattens her tongue for you, and you take that chance to grind your hips. you can feel yourself dripping, it’s beginning to travel down your legs. 

a low hum of satisfaction reverbed around the room, sending vibrations on your cunt—caitlyn is loving every second of this. knowing that only she can see you break down like this. her dick is begging to be let out.

you push her away, your breaths coming in short pants, and due to her being caught off-guard, she fell on her backside, staring up at you wildly. in an instant, you’re on your knees, crawling to where she is, coming between her legs.

your fingers fumble with the button of her trousers, pulling it down along with her undergarments, setting her weeping cock free. 

“care to explain what’s going on here, caitlyn?” there’s huskiness to your voice, smooth yet commanding—your hands wrap themselves around the base of her cock, your mouth going dangerously near it, “go on then.”

caitlyn speaks the words, but her eyes give her away, “nothing is going on.”

“try again, baby.” you kiss her tip, a flinch is what you get from her. you continue to kiss everywhere: her dick, her thighs, her abdomen, her navel.

only did she speak when her lower body is covered in lipstick kisses, and she’s left throbbing in need. she grits out, “blame that woman. she was too touchy.”

“oh?” she lets out a groan of frustration, leaning back on her elbows, throwing her head back, and closing her eyes, “jealous?”

“i don’t get jealo–”

“then allow me to assure you.”

      you take her dick inside your mouth, inches after inches going down your throat, and all she can do is watch you take it. a guttural moan escapes her lips, her hips slightly lifting off of the ground—you close your eyes when you feel her go even deeper.

for a second, you stay there, deepthroating caitlyn, your nose buried in her neat patch of tamed hair, shaking your head ever so lightly; caitlyn loves it when you do that and she gives you a growl of appreciation.

she grabs your head, her other palm lying flat on the floor as leverage, and her hips take off. caitlyn’s eyes are unfocused, a distant haze clouding them as she soaks in the sight of you happily taking it.

“you love this, don’t– fuck, don’t you?” she murmurs. “always such a good girl for me.”

      to answer her question, you swallow around her, the motion made her falter, breaking her rhythm. your hands pressed firmly against her hips, keeping her down—you pull up, sucking only the tip, eyes meeting, and then slowly going back down.

“all the way to the base for me, darling,” she gently pushes your head to guide you, her cock twitching when your nose meets with her hair once again, “there you go. good girl. i’m close.”

you come back up suddenly, maneuvering yourself to straddle her hips, your hand darting down to lead her inside of you, “not yet.”

caitlyn grits out the words through clenched teeth, “it’ll be difficult in this position, darling.” she places her hands under your knees, your hands shooting out to wrap around her neck as she stands up.

      you feel the wall on your back, she drops one leg, keeping one leg lifted. the groans that leave you both as she enters you are raw, eyes fluttering close. god, she just keeps on sliding inside of you, you swear she’s kissing your cervix. 

caitlyn withdrew slowly, then returned in, taking her time with every inch. your hand comes down to cover your mouth, you’re still in public, after all. and caitlyn notices. a sudden slam of her hips made you let out a soft moan, but barely audible.

her relentless harsh thrusts never let up. caitlyn feels so good, you feel so good around her, you squeeze her so good; your whimpers, your ragged breaths hitting her throat, mewling out her name like a broken record every time the head of her gushing dick of precum hits your spot, it’s all too much for her. her head drops down to your shoulder as she cums—the wave of sudden warmth filling you taking you by surprise, your eyes unfocusing, tightening around her cock. 

by the time she’s done filling you up, she’s still moving her hips, pushing through her sensitivity. she needs this. she needs you.

she puts down your leg, turning you around, not pulling out of you. with your palms on the wall, her hands find your hips, holding it with a bruising grip, each slam of her hips on your backside sending you forward.

“only i could touch you like that, my love,” her frustration seeps through her thrusts, the claps of your hips mixing with your broken moans, “who does she think she is.”

      your knees buckle, but thanks to her strength, she holds you up. she may look lanky due to her height and weight, but she’s pure muscle. you grip her wrist, unable to form words because how could you when you feel her deep inside your gut, when you feel your slick trailing down your leg, making a mess on the floor, or simply the feeling of her cock going in and out of you.

your orgasm comes out of nowhere, catching you and her off-guard, your body shudders in pleasure, shaking and spasming, triggering another one from caitlyn. she bends down, groaning in your nape as she fills you again.

her thrusts transition into lazy ones as you ride out your orgasms. you nuzzle your cheek against her head, your throat beginning to sore, swallowing with difficulty. 

she pulls out of you, letting you two slide down the floor. you take this chance to lie on your back, your legs shivering, your forearm covering your sweaty face. you feel her firm but gentle touch on your legs.

her hands are back on the back of your knees again, forcing them up until you’re nearly folded in half, further ruining your dress, “one more.”

      she slides her cock in, your eyes rolling back in pleasure at the new angle—she is much deeper in this position. she feels your cunt flutter, pulling her in if that’s even possible. 

she begins her ruthless pace again, your breasts bouncing in your dress with the force of her thrust, determined to fill you up, to cum inside of you again and again. the pleasure is drowning you, whimpering when she hits your spot, then abusing it over and over and over again. you lift your head to see her dick disappear inside your sopping sensitive cunt, and to listen to the wet noises every time caitlyn thrusts back in you.

she wasn’t much better than you—her ruthless pace is becoming sloppy, uncoordinated, chasing her own high. her choked moans, breathy sighs as you milk her, feeds your ego.

you don’t make a sound when you cum for the second time, only the fluttering of your pussy makes it known. caitlyn doubles her effort by circling your clit, effectively intensifying your orgasm. only did she allow herself to cum when your fingers dig into her sides. 

she forces her dick in you, going deeper than ever before. the spurts of her gushing dick emit a soft sigh from you, she presses her face into your neck as she lets go of your legs. you hold her, playing with the hairs on the back of her head, not letting go until she’s done filling you up.

“fuck, cait, are you trying to get me pregnant or what.” you allow your limbs to relax, and you feel her cum drip down out of you. you’re sweaty and sticky all over, your throat sore, ears ringing, legs are shaking, pussy filled with her cum, eyes still unfocused, “you are an animal, honey.”

      you feel her kiss your jaw, her breaths still ragged, hitting your neck. you both moan as she pulls out, your face burns at the sight of her creamy cock, still twitching, and dripping with cum.

she sits back and leans on the wall, hissing when she grabbed the base of her dick. your whole body is screaming at you to lie down, however, you crawl again to her, sitting next to her. her eyes close shut and she lets her head fall on top of your head.

taking this chance, you wrap your hands around her softening dick; she reacts quickly, her fingers gripping your wrist.

“ah-ah. hands off, honey.” you pull your hand off your wrist. slowly, you jerk her off, swiping your thumb over her head, “just one more.”

      you let a mischievous smirk form when you see her face contort into pain and pleasure, the sensitivity becoming too much for her.

you pump your hand, relishing every time her cock twitches in your hand, every time her hips try to pull away from your hand. you see her hands form a fist, this must be painful for her.

“i did say i’ll assure you, didn’t i?” you kiss her cheek, your mouth lingering on it, “can you cum for me again?”

caitlyn’s hips start to subtly thrust up to meet your pumps, she feels your every touch, every line on your hands. her mouth hands open, her eyes remain closed, she’s pulsing in your hand.

“you’re the only person i touch like this, cailtyn.” your breath hitting her ears adds to her pleasure that is spreading all over her body. “yeah? just like this?” 

“da-darling,” caitlyn gasps out, “too sen-sensitive.” you grip harder, pump harder, “please, i can’t anymo-more.” 

      her back arches off the wall, eyes opening suddenly when she feels you take her tip in your mouth, sucking her like candy. she makes an attempt at pulling her hips back but it’s no use. it hurts. It hurts so good.

you hollow your cheeks, your hand following your mouth as your slurp, gag, and suck. caitlyn doesn’t know what to do, it’s too much for her—the burning pleasure on her cock. yet she yearns to cum.

you go back up for air, taking her tip in, not giving her a break, and your hand pumps the remaining inches. “go-gonna cum, darling–”

      without letting her speak, you quickly push her in you, smiling when you feel her cum inside of you again. she wraps her arms around your torso, grounding you unto her dick as she thrusts up, her cum painting your walls white again.

she muffles her groans using your chest, hugging you so tightly, that her muscles are flexing under her clothes. a sigh of contentment leaves you when she stops rocking her hips up, her dick softening inside of you.

“still jealous?” her breaths were ragged, coming in short gasps as she tried to steady herself. “come back to me, cait.”

oh, you done broke her.

[angarchive]

can regulus grab me next

[thoughtkick]

Love and kindness are never wasted. They always make a difference.

Barbara de Angelis

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

Great now half my cuppa is tears 🥲 thanks Ange.

Joking obvi, this reblog was so sweet 😭😭🥰 the butt stuff was for you hehehehe

Tysm Ange 🥰🥰🥰 so sweet and I'm gonna miss em 😭😭😭

A Perfect Score - Epilogue | FigureSkating!AU

Summary: months have passed since the finals with no sign of Aemond, making you wonder if anything has changed | Word Count: 6k~ | Warnings below the cut~

Series Masterlist | Links to my Taglists: General Taglist | Aemond Targaryen Taglist

Warnings: p in v sex, daddy kink, oral (f receiving), degradation, praise, *a finger in the bum*, butt play, ass eating, orgasm denial, creampie, ass slapping, pussy slapping, face slapping

A/N: *don't get emosh, don't get emosh, don't get emosh* I can't believe it's really REALLY the end! I've had this idea for the Epilogue for AGES and can't wait for you all to read the last instalment of our figure skating couple <3 would die for them and hope you enjoy!

"Good, but bend your knees!" You shout to El who's still got her hands outstretched haphazardly, wobbling on the ice as others whizz past her, knocking her off balance.

She throws a middle finger.

Charming.

You laugh as she pushes off to do another lap, reaching down between your legs for the bag and pulling your phone out for any new texts.

Nothing, you sigh.

El makes you jump, bumping into the ledge, "Will you stop being a simp and checking your phone every two seconds? He's going to text you!"

You click your phone off, "I know. I'm just so impatientttt…" you whine, exaggerating your frustration.

El rolls her eyes, "He'll get in, bud"

"Ew, don't call me that"

"Besides, if he gets rejected, he could always be your new manager, pal" she grins.

"You're so fucking gross, you know that?"

She shrugs, a grin that spells victory, "that'd be kinda hot to be fair. Going everywhere with you to competitions, organising your hotel rooms, fucking you over his des-"

"El! For fucks sake" you whisper-shout, heat rising to your cheeks.

A few other skaters on the ice turn their heads in judgment, making your face burn with embarrassment.

"Gods, so uptight" El jokes, a mischievous grin on her face.

To tell the truth. You missed Aemond. In all aspects.

You hadn't had sex since being in Dorne. And you hadn't seen him since the hospital.

Even though you texted most days, after months of seeing him everyday, it was quite the shock to the system.

It felt like there was a hole, conveniently Aemond-shaped, that was deepening the longer you two were separated.

"Oof!"

You both look up, to see Floris on the ice, wobbling her way back onto her feet, grimacing, "I'm ok!" She reassures, pushing off to skate slowly.

You nod in Floris' direction, "Is she okay skating?"

"Yeah, the physiotherapist said it'd be good to get her doing things like this again" El replies, looking over her shoulder at her sister.

She turns back to you, "Your manager doesn't hang around here anymore. Not since Floris has started coming back".

You resist the urge to frown.

Coward.

“Got you”, El smirks mischievously, "will you tell me what happened one day?"

It was something you’d thought about for some time. To tell her, or not? Floris certainly didn’t know the deeper details, but you knew she would have had suspicions.

Aemond was obviously unbothered if such information circulated, having put a very large proverbial wall between him and Otto the moment he was discharged from hospital. And yet, it still wouldn’t feel right, airing out all the Targaryen dirty laundry like that.

Even if he said it was okay.

But maybe, on a deeper level, Floris and El at least, deserved the truth.

"One day" you promise.

The cold winter chill nips at your bones, even through the layers of thermal clothing you've got piled on, the thick socks, boots and an overcoat, it still feels positively freezing.

“Who are you texting, missy?” you tease, bumping El on the shoulder, shoving your hands into your thick coat pockets.

She flushes, from the weather or the embarrassment you are unsure, but she puts her phone away quickly, “Nobody, you nosy cow”

King's Landing Winter Wonderland, Christmas Market and trinket shops, though it's far too early for any of that, it gets the people into the spirit. Stalls line the market square with several of them selling holiday related items as well as food, with an ice rink circling the entirety of the perimeter.

The air smells of mulled wine, cooked meats and the laughter of families and couples alike. With their warm breath creating clouds of white with each exhale.

El has you excitedly tucked into her arm, telling you all about her newest boyfriend, who for all intents and purposes is both hot and a keeper.

Ah, so that’s who she was talking to.

"He's already talking about us moving in together! Before the end of the year" She says excitedly, but her face falls, "but…I don't want to leave you in the lurch paying the rent by yourself".

You scoff, "I won't take you away from good dick because of fucking rent" you smirk, "if you want to, go for it".

She arches her eyebrows in uncertainty, "You sure?"

You pat her gloved hand with yours, "very", you smile, "as long as he doesn't steal you away from me, I want the lowdown".

"Oh you'll get that alright", she laughs.

Having poked your heads into a few stalls, and several sips of mulled wine later, you smirk as El is glued to her phone. Again.

"That your man?" You ask.

She quickly puts it away, biting her lip, "Yup" she replies, "wanna go skating?"

You roll your eyes, "It's not like it's my fucking job, El. Sick of it".

"Oh come on! I won't have to use the kids stabilisers anymore!"

She gives you her wide, puppy-like eyes.

Ones you know you can't refuse.

"Fine" you sigh.

She is far too excited to say that literally a few hours before she was struggling to use her two flippers to stay upright on the rink. Nevermind going backwards.

It’s quite entertaining to see her drag you by the hand excitedly to the ticket gate.

“One ticket for skating, please! Size 5!” she beams at the receptionist, who looks like he’d rather be dead right now.

You furrow your brows, “One? Did you want to go on by yourself and I watch or-”

“Nope! Just you” she grins.

“Me? El, what in seven hells are you on abou-”

She shoves the skates into your hands and practically pushes you past the gate, waving you off, “no questions!”

You don’t even really have time to cuss her out/question the situation, it feels like your brain is in overdrive.

There, either hand leaning against the entrance to the ice rink, where the public are zipping around slowly, laughing, pink in the face, hand in hand, is Aemond. The familiar ribbons of platinum hair that have fallen from the hair tie, now slightly waved from the moisture in the air, sways with the breeze at his shoulders.

He has that slack smirk on his face, his tall broad form leaning on one side, ankles crossed with the low quality skates on, tapping the tip onto the ice.

Even in a heavy looking coat, his hair messily done up and pink cheeks from where the cold had been hitting them, he still looks every bit as handsome as you remembered him.

It makes your heart sigh to see him smile at you with that glimmer in his eye. Blinking slowly and admiringly at you.

"Hey, Princess", he greets warmly.

You almost drop the skates in your hands, the cold wisps of wind making you realise now that your eyes are all wet.

You're sure his name slips out before you crash into his arms, flinging yours around his neck.

He smells just like he used to.

And all those good memories just flood back at once, making that wetness behind your eyes form actual teardrops that line your cheeks.

You feel him laugh a little, one of his big hands on your back, "missed me then?", he prods in a smooth tone.

Fuck. His voice.

You didn't realise you'd missed hearing it so much.

When you pull away, to properly look at his face, he's still smiling, in that classic 'Aemond' way.

You're so engrossed with just looking at him, you nearly flinch when you feel his thumb wipe your under eye softly, wiping the moisture away.

His gaze softens, "don't cry. I don't look that bad, do I?"

Giving a watery laugh, you shake your head, "Just missed you".

His hand is still around your waist, inadvertently pulling you close to him so your hands hover over his chest, "Now, now, don't get all soft on me".

Your cheeks hurt from smiling.

"How?.."

Aemond gestures with his head, "El organised it".

"But…she's-"

"With her new boyfriend, don't worry. It's just us, princess" Aemond smiles, picking up the skates you'd dropped.

"For old time's sake?" He smiles.

And all you can do is blush and smile up at him like a little lovesick teenager.

It feels utterly strange to get back on the ice with Aemond again, even if it is a public one in the middle of a Christmas market. Even more so that he's not flinging you around in all sorts of twists and jumps.

But it feels nice.

Hand in gloved hand, you glide about together, catching up.

Alicent, you learn, has gotten back in touch with her long time friend. Aemond furrows his brows when he recollects that usually she's on facetime with a glass of Dornish Red in one hand and creasing up in front of her iPad at something her friend has said.

Aegon. Well, he's Aegon. Aemond's words, not yours. But he's working on getting a teaching qualification so that he can coach skating instead. It's nice that he was able to find something to use his skills for. Other than womanising.

"Had minor surgery on my nerves…they think it'll do the trick for some years, hopefully forever" he says as you weave on either foot.

"Well that's good" you smile, "does it feel better?"

He nods, "Oh and Hel has a new partner".

You look over quickly, one eyebrow poised, "And? Was I right?"

Smirking, Aemond has to resist the urge to roll his eye, "Yes, you were right".

"Yes! I knew it! I knew she was bi!"

You flush when some families around you look over when you shout it a bit too loud.

Oops.

Aemond tugs you to his side by your waist, humming in a kind of quiet laugh. A comfortable silence descends, just enjoying one another's company.

"I got in", he says suddenly. Stealing your attention again as your feet synchronise in short glides.

"Got in?"

"KLU".

"KLU? Oh my god-" you surge up, his face between your hands, but he doesn't complain, and kiss him fiercely, "Congratulations, Aemond. Oh my gosh, that's-"

You beam with pride.

And you can tell he genuinely loves it, by the way he blushes slightly.

"And" he goes on, his face close to yours, smirking at the confused look on your face.

"And?..."

He licks his lips before he speaks.

"I got a place" he adds, "and was wondering…if you…"

He trails off. And your face settles into realisation. Your heart hammering in your chest, like the engine of an old train.

He shrugs, clearing his throat, “You know, because we basically spent all our time together during the championships…”

You swallow thickly, "Really?..." it comes out weaker than you intended.

He nods, “It’s just out of town, not far from here really” he gestures in the vague direction with his head, the hand that’s resting at your waist dropping somewhat.

Blinking the emotion from your eyes, you swat his chest playfully, “Alright, Mr Moneybags”

He doesn’t laugh, like you expect him to, but he does smile at least. At this point, you seem to have come to a stop, your skates nestled between his to keep you both stable.

His darkened gaze just looks at your face. Studies it.

Like he’s opened a book and is reading through the pages.

When he looks at you like that, you can’t help but feel a flutter deep in your chest. It feels like he is drawing on you softly, like a thousand little butterflies have landed on your face, and are slowly opening and closing their wings.

You shudder when his warm, ungloved thumb brushes against your cheek.

“What?...” you smile at him affectionately.

He hums, a cloud escaping his lips as he speaks, “I’ve missed you”.

All you feel is the ledge of the ice rink press against your lower back and yours and Aemond’s noses brushing against one another as he presses his warm, comforting lips to yours.

He takes his time, moving languidly against your lips with a soft, wet beat, his tongue parting your lips as if he had been waiting all this time to taste you properly.

He tastes just as you remember.

A hint of cigarettes that he’s tried to hide with spearmint.

When you break away, you can’t ignore the warm feeling that blooms in your gut. In all the time you’d spent apart, you forgot how his lips felt on yours, how his hands felt on you, and how his mere presence around you made arousal creep up your thighs.

Gods, it’s been so long.

A blush creeps up your neck to your face, and Aemond smirks.

“Stop that”

Your lower lip catches between your teeth before you reply, “What?”

He leans against the ledge, caging you in with his own body.

“Blushing”

His voice lowers.

“Otherwise I’ll give you something to blush about”

The tension was thick as you and Aemond trudged through the Christmas Market after vacating the ice rink. You tried to lighten it by doing idle things like looking at the homemade ornaments on one stand, to sharing a cup of mulled wine between you, feeling the way the liquid warmed your insides.

That warmth was nothing compared to the way Aemond looked at you.

It reminded you of all those months ago, at the hotel, before the dynamic of your relationship changed. The way he used to stare at you from across the room, in what you wrongly thought at the time was out of disinterest and detest.

How wrong you were.

Shooting off a quick text to El, who you were sure was already back at the flat anyway, enjoying all the ‘assets’ of her new boyfriend, you walk hand in hand with Aemond back to his apartment.

He was very intent on showing you his new place. And your insides fluttered in anticipation, heat crawling up your neck.

His apartment was nice. Not that you expected any less. It was several floors high, showing a good view of King’s Landing and the bright, illuminated Christmas Market in the square below. Even from here, through the tall and wide windows of the living room, you could see the couples zipping around the ice rink, as you both were just a few moments before.

It had that ‘new apartment’ smell, but whenever you brushed past a coat of his or a blanket, it smelled like him. The walls were bare, but you were sure that Aemond would decorate when he was properly settled.

“Is Vhagar going to be coming here?” you ask, cupping the warm mug of tea in your hands as Aemond gives it to you.

“Maybe. She’s quite settled at Mum’s though so…I don’t want to make her anxious”.

You nod, “It’s a nice place”

“Will look even better when you’re here” he smirks, bending down to huff himself onto the sofa, “I’m sure you have better ideas than I do on interior design”.

You simply watch him for a moment, the warmth of his apartment making your previously cold hands feel prickly. Your fingers tap against the ceramic, the sound of Aemond’s playlist rumbling quietly from a speaker in a different room.

Placing the mug on the coffee table, Aemond exhales as your legs rest either side of his torso, moving to sit atop him with your hands stealing beneath his shirt, watching as his pink lips part for breath.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, princess” he murmurs against your lips as he leans up, his large hands squeezing your ass, moulding the flesh to his grip and eliciting a low gasp from your lips.

"Who says it's a game?" You whisper back, teasing him by brushing your lips against his, moving your hips on him and smiling when you feel him harden instantly.

" - fuck - "

You know he hates it, just hates it, when you smirk at how pent up and desperate he gets. But you just can't help it. Not only is it all too easy, it's just too fucking tempting too.

How easily such a large, overbearing and domineering man, can be subdued to a mewling, near-begging mess just by the soft movement of your hips.

"Baby, please -"

Reaching down between your bodies, Aemond outright moans when you palm his erection through his jeans, sitting against his thigh quite obviously. You tease your hand from the base to the tip, squeezing through the denim, seeing the way Aemond almost knits his brows together in barely-contained pleasure.

And any time he tries to reach up, to kiss you properly, you pull back, allowing him to chase you.

"Oh, fuck you-"

You yelp in surprise as Aemond lifts you, keeping your legs around his waist as he pushes his bedroom door open and dropping you onto his mattress. And before you even have a moment to sit up on your elbows, he's on you, kneeing your legs apart and caging you to the bed with his body.

"Can't fucking wait any longer - need you, baby-"

Fuck, even the way he says that has arousal pooling between your legs, the desire to push your thighs together strong, but weakened with Aemond's body keeping them apart.

He's so fast and rough, the way he unbuttons your jeans and pulls the denim down your legs, taking your underwear with it, that you feel for a moment he may have torn something.

He practically fucking growls when he he looks between you, his thumb teasing your clit, finally able to look upon you the way he's wanted to for months.

"Already soaked for me, aren't you?" He coos lowly, teasing your bud in sure, confident circles, before swatting your heat firmly with a wet smack, "such a good fucking slut for me".

You mewl, pressing your lips together, a flush enveloping your face at his words. It's been so long since you were intimate with him, it will take a few moments to get used to it again and fall into that rhythm.

That, and you can't help but flush in embarrassment at the realisation you've not shaved your legs, genuinely not having expected to see him today.

It doesn't seem like Aemond cares.

With a fist over the collar of his shirt, he pulls it over his head, showing his lean and well-muscled torso lit with a warm amber glow from the bedside lamp.

You jolt in surprise as his fingers pull you by your thighs further down the bed, a gasp flying past your lips as his tongue and teeth nip and kiss at the inside of them. The sensation bordering on pain and pleasure at the same time.

"You don't know how long I've waited to taste your sweet pussy, princess"

You have an idea, by the way Aemond mouths at the crease between your thigh and hip. But you don't say it out loud. The anticipation of his mouth so, so close without touching you where you need him most is agonising.

" - fuck - Aemond -"

Your back nearly arches off the bed as he flattens his tongue against your warmth, swirling around your clit first before diving into your folds to feast on you, his fingers digging into your flesh for leverage. The feeling of his grip into your flesh burns pleasantly as he tugs you towards him, your lips parting with hurried pants tumbling out.

Your legs tremble as his low moan vibrates through your core, electricity creeping up your spine as he laps at you with vigour, his sharp nose nudging at your clit as he moves side to side to eventually fuck you with his tongue.

For a split second, you worry if he can actually breathe.

But as your embarrassingly quick orgasm starts barrelling towards you without warning, it somehow gets pushed to the back of your mind, you reach down, threading your fingers through his hair, chanting his name as if it’s all you can say as he groans against your cunt.

His hands hold you down by your thighs, tugging you back to his mouth in soft micro-movements as you shake against him, head thrown back against the pillows with your breath hot in your chest, unable to catch it well enough to form any other sound than moaning unabashedly.

Aemond outright moans as you cum against his tongue, the lewd sound of him licking up everything that comes out makes a heat creep up your neck. But you can’t find it within yourself to be embarrassed. Not when he makes you feel like this.

You can feel the moisture on his face when he takes mercy, drawing his lips away to kiss and nip at the inside of your thighs again, giving one firm bite before he pulls away with a smirk on his face, no doubt happy at the mark he’s left behind.

Your eyes feel heavy as you lift your gaze to him, now perched on his knees as he pops the buttons of his jeans off, the veins on the back of his hand straining, making you feel somewhat lightheaded.

“ - can’t wait to fuck you again - you don’t know how long I’ve wanted be buried inside that pretty little pussy -”

You lick your lips as your mouth goes dry. He always manages to do that. Somehow turn you into a limp, mewling mess in no time at all.

Something you have in common, clearly.

With your heart beating erratically, body throbbing in the afterglow of your orgasm, that feeling is enhanced still when Aemond tugs at his length needily, his shoulders rising and falling with the desire to just stuff himself inside you as deep as he will go.

You can only watch in awe as his fingers wrap around himself, the tip ruddy and desperate, with arousal coating it with every slow and calculated fist. His stomach muscles clench and unclench uncontrollably, his chest muscles moving steadily with each deep breath.

It feels exciting, how utterly small you feel when he leans over you, once again grasping your legs to spread them before him. His long, thick fingers tease your slick folds, before he guides the fat head of his cock to your centre, watching with parted lips at the way your eyebrows furrow in both relief and pleasure as he stretches you around him slowly.

“ - ohfuck - ”, he moans lowly, sinking himself slowly into your warmth and basking in the closeness it offers, “ - fuck, baby, so tight for me -”

Being with him like this again is like sinking into a warm bath, with the rolls of steam batting at your face. And his words are so soft, they’re like dozens of little snowflakes settling on your face in a flurry. All cold and numb, and yet warm and fuzzy at the same time.

It’s completely instinctual, the way you turn your head, slightly embarrassed as Aemond holds either of your legs apart, his pelvis smacking against yours as he eases himself into a steady rhythm.

“ -aw, don’t tell me you’ve gone all shy on me -” he mocks, his eye glimmering with mischief as he looks down at you, “-where’s the needy, little slut I used to know, hm? -”

You gasp as Aemond pushes both hands down, pressing both of your legs towards your shoulders, bending at the knee so that he can kneel higher, using the new position with gravity to fuck down into you faster and rougher.

The new position has you pretzeled before him, completely unable to do anything but throw your head back against the pillows and turn bright red at the wanton, breathy moans that slip out.

“ -Aemond -”

“ - what’s wrong, baby? -” he coos, “ -is this too much for you? Hm? I know you’re more flexible than this -”

Fuck.

Each rough push of his length into you from this angle has the curved head of his cock brush against your sweet spot with devastating precision. With every thrust, the air seems to expel forcefully from your lungs, not helped in part by the fact that Aemond has your legs pressed hard against your ribs.

All you’re able to see through bleary eyes is the way he smirks down at you with his hair stuck to his tacky face, his chest heaving with hurried breath, and every now and then, his neck muscles straining as he tips his head back and groans loudly as you inadvertently squeeze his length when he bullies the end of you.

The air is charged, hot and humid. And you barely register the fact that music is still playing in another room, and that the curtains are pulled back. Though there’s no chance of anyone being able to see you both from how high his apartment is, it still makes your insides tighten that it’s happening so unabashedly with the city right below you.

His hand drifts down your thigh, watching as you squirm beneath him as he presses hard on your stomach, your eyes closing tightly at the feeling of him closing you around his length as it pistons roughly into you. He smiles slightly, almost as if he can feel how deep he reaches inside you.

“ -Oh fuck, baby - can fucking feel you gripping me -” he moans helplessly, leaning over, the sweat on his forehead slightly illuminated by the warm lamp’s light, “-does my girl like being a dirty little slut?”

You barely even register he’s speaking, everything sounding utterly muffled and just too much all at once. His low voice only serves to make that coil wind tighter in your gut, reacting to the way he never lets up his pace once.

You jolt slightly when he taps your cheek twice, a little rougher than you’d anticipated.

“ -I’m fucking talking to you -” he growls, moving his hand from your stomach up to bunch the shirt in his fist, exposing your pebbled nipples to the warmth of the room.

You nod helplessly, “Yes - yes -”

It’s all mindless babbling, and Aemond knows it as he grins, his eye flitting down to watch the way your breasts bounce as he fucks you.

“ -please, Aemond -”

“ -please what, hm? You want to cum, is that it? But you’re too fucked stupid to say it?”

As much as you hate to admit it, his words send a bolt of humiliation through you that does nothing but excite you, your core throbbing around his length with every calculated word he says.

"Aw, poor thing -" he jeers, "- I'm going to have fun with you-"

Wait what?

This isn't said 'fun'?

Oh shit.

Before that familiar coil can wind itself any tighter, Aemond pulls back, grunting as he manhandles your hips to turn you over and his palm cracking against your backside, smirking in victory at the mewl it gets out of you.

The skin there blooms with warmth, more so as Aemond’s tantalisingly hot skin presses against it once more, your lips parting in what can only described as a relieved moan as he slides into you again, his cockhead hitting the spongey end, filling you utterly.

"-Aemo-"

Smack.

"Not my fucking name, Princess. C'mon, you can do it" he purred, pressing his hand against your back, pushing against your spine and forcing your face against the sheets.

A choked moan almost slips out, with him tugging your hips up to him in such a curved position, his cockhead bullies your sweet spot, dragging his length along your sensitive walls, propelling you to an overwhelming orgasm.

"Go on - beg me for it or I won't let you cum-"

The idea of him denying you yet again when you were so close last time just seems utterly unbearable. So despite the humiliation rocking through your core with each harsh smack of his hips, despite the overwhelming heat of the room and most of all, despite your pride.

You do.

"Please - daddy - need it-"

If you could see him, you'd hate it.

Because he grins. Ear to fucking ear like he's wanted to hear it for months.

"Aren't you gonna beg me for permission to touch yourself?"

You suck in a breath, squealing muffled against the sheets as he gives another hard thrust. Clearly, despite appearances, on the verge himself.

"-can I - can I touch myself - please, daddy -"

"-fuck- baby, touch that little clit for me, yeah? - want to feel you cum-"

His voice is strained, pushing you with each thrust further and further against the sheets, your arms near giving out with the weight of him on you. With difficulty, your hand snakes between you and the mattress that constantly dips with how rough Aemond is being, and finds your bud, running the slickness that has collected over it, tying up your pleasure into two feelings.

Aemond’s lips part, staggered breaths the only thing coming out, as he feels your walls flutter around him, looking down at the way your bodies meet with a soft smack every time. You feel so warm and tight, gods he’s wanted to cum since since you started touching him through his jeans.

But now, pulling you by your hips to spear you onto his cock, he’s so so close.

Just wants to feel you first.

“-baby, you’re doing so well for me-” he breathes quickly, his gaze flitting briefly from where he’s pistoning in and out of you, to your sweat slick face, pressed against the sheets, biting your lips harshly as you pleasure yourself in tandem with Aemond’s movements.

As his hand slid down past your hips, his thumb tracing the bottom of your spine, you suck in a harsh breath when he softly grazes over your puckered hole, still fucking shallowly as if to tease you and him into teetering on the edge of a climax.

You're barely able to see behind you, pressed so hard into the sheets, but he looks good fucking you. His chest shines with perspiration, the chain dangling around his neck teasingly, and his abdominal muscles clenching and unclenching with restraint.

And then you see him smile.

"-oh? We've never done this before have we, princess?-"

Oh shit.

After all the exertion of your passion so far, your slick has easily made its way onto your thighs, so Aemond doesn't have to move much to drag some of it on his thumb and circle your hole with light, delicate motions, moistening the area.

Humiliation creeps up onto your face, eyes slipping shut. No guy before has ever really tried to do this. So this is uncharted territory. But despite the brief embarrassment, you have to admit that the feeling of Aemond ever so slightly pressing his thumb against you as he continues to thrust brutally into your cunt just feels new in the most amazing way.

His other hand still grabs the flesh of your ass, tugging you back to his cock in a frantic rhythm. The mewls coming out your mouth now sounding so unlike your own.

Aemond knows by the way your hips move up to meet his touch that you like it, but are too embarrassed to say.

"-how about it, hm? - you want me in both your pretty little fuckholes? -"

"-yes - yes, please daddy, I-"

Making sure his thumb is slick enough, your puckered hole also, he slides in slowly, using the palm of his hand to grasp whatever of your ass cheeks as he can.

You almost hear his choked moan.

"-fuck-, you're so tight here, princess - you gonna let me fuck it one day, hm? - you'd be so fucking good here-"

The batting of his cock against your upper walls has you very nearly sobbing outwardly, combined with the feeling of him in such a new place, pressing in, you'd forgotten you'd stopped pleasuring yourself. Completely embroiled in this feeling.

He chuckles darkly, crooking the digit ever so slightly, leaning over to press against your back "-you'd fucking let me as well, wouldn't you? -"

The curling of his other fingers on the flesh of your backside has him smiling at the sounds it emits from you.

“-did I say stop, hm? Keep touching yourself - cum for me-”

You know that as soon as you do it’s all over.

His voice, combined with all three feelings at once, tugging at that pleasurable spot inside you that has white, hot pleasure soaring through your bloodstream, has a long, choked moan filling the space between you. And you’re surprised to hear that the same sound slips past Aemond’s lips as well, the air of his breath batting against your neck as he tries to bury himself as deep inside you as he possibly can.

You’re trying to suck in breath without really realising it, the earth-shattering orgasm making your body go all rigid for a moment before you relax against the sheets, with the pleasant weight of him above you.

Everything feels warm. His bedroom right now feeling like a large blanket has enveloped you both. It seems a weird thing to think in the moment, with Aemond’s half naked body hunched over you, his cock twitching and pulsing, whimpering as he is still emptying himself inside of you and feeling the aftershocks through your fleshy walls.

All his micro-movements seem overly-sensitive. And when Aemond exhales, lifting himself off your back, lifting your lids to open your eyes feels like the most difficult thing you’ve ever done.

“-sorry-” he whispers cautiously as he pulls his softening cock from you, immediately feeling the warm rush of cum coating your inner thighs.

Warmth blossoms once again to your cheeks as he stays still, and you think he must be staring at the way he leaks from you, sighing in a sort of perverted admiration.

You don’t even have time to open your mouth before his thumb slips out your other hole, only to jolt in shock once it’s immediately replaced by his tongue. All those dulled out endorphins that were dissipating into your limbs feel like they all gather back, and you squeeze your thighs together, fisting the bedsheets so tightly they could’ve torn.

Both of his hands seem to find their home on each asscheek, spreading them so he can easily swirl his talented wet, muscle around your hole, fucking moaning as he does it. All your nerves ring semi-uncomfortably, overstimulation nipping at the edges of the pleasure.

“-fuck, Aemond, no no, please-” you plead, emitting a weary, exhausted laugh when he chuckles and pulls away, landing one softened smack against the flesh.

“-Mm- another time-”

Lethargy pulls at your body as you lay on your front, blinking slowly as you feel the mattress rise, pressing your lips together as Aemond disappears into the en-suite, tucking himself back into his jeans.

A moment later, he comes back with a warm washcloth, offering to clean you up. But you simply smile, pushing yourself to sit up, “I’m good”, you smile, with a flushed face, feeling slightly bashful after what you’d just done together.

One long shower together later, you lay in his bed, looking out at the city beneath, the cascade of brightly coloured lights littering the dark space between buildings. Aemond’s shirt easily reaches to your thighs, with nothing beneath, not having anticipated staying over anywhere today.

Aemond sighs calmly, his chin on the top of your head, pressed against your back, with one of his hands running through the tresses of your hair, every now and then stroking at your scalp, which has your eyes slipping shut at the pleasant feeling.

“Well, princess? Do you like it?” he asks, his voice all soft and tired.

You meet his lilac gaze, tilting your head slightly in question.

“The apartment”.

“It’s perfect”, you smile, reaching up his cheek and running the back of your fingers over it, the scar tissue feeling slightly different in texture over your skin, “you sure you want me to move in?”

He blinks slowly, a smile rising to his lips, his hand coming to yours and pressing a soft, tender kiss to your wrist. And though not directly sexual, it makes your belly do little backflips, feeling so intimate and captivating that warmth floods your skin through his lips.

“Of course, princess. I can't do this without you”.

General Taglist: @aemondsfavouritebastard | @bellstwd | @blairfox04 | @hb8301 | @jamespotterismydaddy | @mochi-rose | @nenelysian | @natty2017 | @randomdragonfires | @risefallrise | @theoneeyedprince | @thelittleswanao3 | @tsujifreya | @urmomsgirlfriend1 | @valeskafics | @watercolorskyy

Aemond Taglist (1): @asp3nxx | @avidreader73 | @bellaisasleep | @boofy1998

[klien2000]

Inihahandog q ngyon c BINI Sev!!! AYIEEEE mahiwagang salamin kailan ba niya aaminin kaniyang tunay na pagtingin~~

[espeartz]

Ange portrait with oil pastels

[happilyhertale]

Plot twist: What's a story you'd go back to and make a different choice on the outcome?

@ewanmitchellcrumbs xoxo

Oh, I really had to think about that… but no. I don't think I'd change any outcome of any of my stories - I'm content with my stories. But I would love to be able to write more dark stories! But I can't… I can only read such stories🙈 Thank u, Ange!💕

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

Dear lord 🌶️🌶️🌶️

Wasn't sure how you were gonna incorporate sex pollen and Aemond but consider me sat and sopping 😮‍💨

I loved this 😭😭😭 it just seemed so needy and it was messssyyyyy because of it, ugh, my BELOVED. can I bring my own flowers so it can be me next time plz

Fetor and Fertile

Paring: Aemond Targaryen x f!reader Warnings: Explicit sexual content. Word count: ~2.5k

Summary: Aemond is not a man of pleasure, everything must serve a purpose, exist for functionality. With the threat of war looming ever closer, his wife wants to inject some brightness into their space. Little does she know that the flowers she has cut from the far corner of the Keep's garden to decorate their rooms will coax out a side of her husband that she has yet to meet... Author's note: Written for The Big Fucking Stupid Sex Pollen Writing Challenge. No tag list. Follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications.

The sweet smell of honeysuckle filled the air, carried upon a gentle breeze that ruffled the hairs at the nape of her neck. The sun shone down upon her, warming her skin as she walked slowly through the Keep’s gardens, the only sounds were the crunch of her slippers upon the gravel path and the gentle buzzing of nearby bumblebees. For a moment, she was simply enjoying a peaceful summer’s day where only she and the flora she walked among existed.

She looked up as the garden was plunged into shadowy darkness, seeing the fearsome bulk of Vhagar pass languidly overhead. The sheer monstrous size of the great war dragon caused a chill to run down her spine despite the warmth of the day. As the lumbering beast banked over the sparkling grey waters of Blackwater Bay, the sun was once more visible, however, the illusion of tranquility was shattered. Atop the dragon that had just passed overhead was her husband, Prince Aemond Targaryen. He was patrolling the city, providing preemptive defence against the anticipation of attack that would kick start a war, threatening all of their lives. She sighed, about to turn and go back inside, when a splash of colour in the far corner caught her eye.

Stepping closer, she saw a vine of trailing flowers upon the stone wall in the far corner of the gardens. It was the only place in the green expanse of the Red Keep’s lush botanical space that the sun did not touch, so it surprised her that such beauty was able to thrive here, though she supposed that Alicent Hightower had managed to raise three achingly beautiful children in equally suboptimal conditions. Similar to the Targaryen children, were these flowers also fatally flawed beyond their pretty exterior?

Her eyes raked over the thick, winding stem, a dark green that protruded from a crack in the top of the wall, before twisting its way downwards, just shy of touching the perfectly manicured lawn below. The flowers themselves, blossoming along the vine, were almost trumpet like in shape, with petals that tapered out into points. Their edges were a vibrant orange that bled into a deep crimson at their centre, housing thick stamens laden with bulbous balls of yellow pollen. The colour reminded her of fire, fitting for House Targaryen, and so she carefully plucked enough to make a modest bouquet. They would look nice in a vase upon the table at the centre of her and Aemond’s marital chambers, she decided. It was a space that was furnished to be functional and comfortable, but it was otherwise dreary and in need of brightening up. The flowers would do just that.

Functional, but in need of brightening up was also an adequate description for her marriage to Aemond. Theirs was a political alliance, a union of powerful houses to strengthen his brother’s claim to the throne, so she was under no illusions of their match being one of heartfelt declarations of love or unbridled displays of passion, but she had hoped that that would grow in time. In the three months since the Targaryen prince had draped her in his house colours and taken her under his protection, he had not been unkind to her, but she had yet to see beneath the hardened shell of stoic duty that he hid behind. When he lay with her he made it clear that it was for the intent of producing heirs, and he remained stoic, his movements utterly controlled as he rutted atop her. She wondered if he took any pleasure in it all, save for the moment his eye would screw shut as he spilled inside of her with a groan. Everything Aemond did was in service of others – an attack dog for his brother, a protector for his mother and sister. She had yet to decipher what roles they played in each other’s lives that ran deeper than armies and fealty, though she was desperate to find out. Despite his reputation for being a ruthlessly violent kinslayer, in person he was quiet, controlled, and devastatingly handsome in a way that made her ache. It frustrated her that she never saw any of the fire in him that his house was renowned for. 

Once the flowers were arranged in a dark green ceramic vase upon the table, she found the space was much more pleasing to look at, a welcome burst of colour among the stacks of old books, dragon skulls and tapestries depicting grisly acts of war from the age of the Conqueror. She felt as though there was finally a little something of her influence in the room, and not just her husband’s. 

He returned as she was knotting the tie of her royal blue satin robe around her waist, not long having stepped out of the bath. Clad in his riding leathers, with both his sword and dagger at his hip, he cut an imposing figure, and she feared she would never grow used to the way he seemed to draw all the air from the room whenever he stepped into it. She stood frozen, taking in the windswept state of the long, silver hair that hung loose around his shoulders – the top half, as always, was pulled away from his face and tied at the back of his head.

Her gaze followed his single eyed stare as it fell upon the flowers on the table, his eyebrow raising subtly in silent question.

“They are beautiful, are they not?” she asked hopefully, a smile spreading across her face as she stepped towards him, watching as he lifted the vase in his gloved hand, dipping his head to smell them.

“Mmm,” was all the response he gave, before setting them back down, and her heart sank at his disinterest. She had hoped that in attempting to put her own stamp upon their shared space that it would pique Aemond’s interest in her, and inspire him to get to know her on a deeper level. He remained apparently unmoved by her efforts, however. “Help me disrobe,” he commanded softly, once he had unfastened his belt, resting his sword against the wall and his dagger upon the table beside the vase of flowers.

He sat upon the chaise beside the table, a wordless and small act of kindness that meant she would not have to reach up on her tiptoes to unhook the clasps nearest his throat. She worked silently, pulling off his black leather gloves and boots, then ridding him of his green waxed leather riding coat and black leather jerkin. He remained silent, his body pliant to the tugging and pulling of the clothing coming away from his body, though his breaths seemed rapid and shaky; she attributed it to the exhilaration of his afternoon patrol, and the speed at which he had to travel on horseback to return to the Red Keep once he had dismounted Vhagar near the Kingswood. By the time she had finished, Aemond remained in only his white cotton breeches, rid of his eyepatch with the entirety of his hair now loose. She stepped back, allowing herself an appreciative glance at the hardened planes of his torso, before beginning to move away to order that the tub be filled with fresh hot water for him to bathe in. She had barely taken a single step when the prince’s hand shot out, grasping her wrist with such force it made her yelp in surprise. Her eyes flitted down to where his fingers tightly encircled her wrist, then up to his face. The ravenous hunger she saw reflected in his dilated gaze made her stomach erupt into nervous butterflies. The darkness she saw in his mismatched stare was a dangerous thing. He had never looked at her that way before – no one had.

“My Prince, what are you– oh!”

She gasped as he pulled her to him, pressing his face against her lower abdomen and inhaling deeply, smelling her in much the same way he had the flowers just moments earlier. His fingers splayed out against her lower back, fingertips pressing firmly into the meat of where the shape of her hips began to flare outwards. He moved his face lower, pressing against her insistently with the tip of his nose. It made her tremble with excitement, her core beginning to throb in anticipation of the trail his touch seemed destined to end at.

“I must have you,” he whispered, his voice thick and raspy, “...please.”

He did not wait for a response, as his nose brushed against the cleft between her thighs, making her mewl softly as her hips bucked instinctively towards his face. He had never been so assertive with her before, never made his desire known to her – what little of it she had experienced thus far seemed to be a dark and ravenous thing, and she was eager to coax it out in its entirety. She threaded her fingers into the silken strands of his hair close to his scalp, tugging gently and he groaned long and low, the sound a deep rumble from within his chest.

“Gods,” she breathed shakily, her head tipping back as she felt the flat of his tongue stroke languidly against her slit, sending shockwaves of pleasure through her body that caused her knees to weaken.

Aemond drew back before she could fall, grasping her by the waist and manhandling her to lay beneath him on the chaise. Her legs dangled precariously off of the edge, but he seemed not to care, grasping her knees and bringing them to rest either side of his waist as he loomed over her upon his knees, folding her in on herself.

She wondered if this was how prey animals felt when caged in by predators, moments before rending jaws closed in and put an end to it all. No – they did not wish for death, she decided as he tore open her robe, baring her body to his esurient gaze. His chest heaved with each of his ragged breaths and she could see the way his hardness strained against the confines of his undergarments, turning the fabric translucent with the arousal that leaked from the tip. Her core clenched at the site, her neediness and arousal growing rapidly as his large hands pawed against her breasts, the feel of his calloused palms against her soft flesh making her hiss through her teeth and writhe beneath him.

“Let me have you…please…” his voice trembled, strained and sounding almost on the verge of tears, almost as though he would sob if she denied him.

She had no intention of denying him his prize, however, not when he had so ardently showed her the depths of his desire. She bit her lip, simply nodding, and in a flurry of movement he freed himself, before surging forward and burying himself to the hilt inside of her. The sudden stretch made her cry out, the sting of her body having to so suddenly accommodate his girth was painful, but not unpleasant. He crashed his lips to hers, swallowing down her noises of discomfort, and her tongue licked against his as he parted his lips, winding her arms around his neck as he began to move, the sticky click of both their saliva and shared arousal the only sounds that accompanied the ominous scrape of the chaise’s legs against the stone floor each time Aemond drove his hips forward, sending cushions toppling to the floor.

When they finally parted for air, Aemond rested his forehead against hers, still driving into her with each brutal snap of his hips as his hands began to explore her body, grasping and squeezing at every dip and curve they fell upon, making her whine. He had never paid such close attention to her body before, she both relished the attention and wanted to hide away at the intensity of it. His hands came to rest upon the globes of her arse, gripping firmly and pulling her body to meet each of his forward thrusts. She cried out in pleasure as it drove him deeper, the head of his cock brushing repeatedly against a spot inside of her that made her toes curl and her thighs tremble.

“I have never wanted anyone the way that I want you,” he panted, sweat beginning to bead upon his brow as she anchored herself to him by digging her heels into the small of his back.

She knew now – this was Aemond’s act of service to her; to pleasure her, and now she had discovered it she would do all she could to ensure he felt he never had to inhibit himself in front of her ever again. 

Aemond pressed his pelvis flush against hers and stilled as he came with a feral snarl, throwing his head back with the force of it, as his lower abdomen twitched with each pulsation of his length inside of her. The sensation pushed her over the edge into rapturous, sweet oblivion, pulling a honeyed, languid sensation from her as her inner muscles spasmed around him, and she whimpered as she convulsed beneath him.

Utterly spent and boneless, she barely registered the weight of him as he collapsed atop her, breathing heavily. After a few moments, he slowly rolled off of her, slipping free of her as she felt his seed begin to trickle slowly down her inner thigh. He shifted towards the centre of the chaise, gathering her against the expanse of his chest.

His voice broke the gentle silence that had fallen between them as his slender fingers danced lazily up and down her spine. “Since the day that we met I have wondered what it would be like to have you cry out my name, to make you writhe in ecstasy…I…I never knew how to ask you.”

His confession curled itself around her heart, spreading warmth through her chest as her lips curved into a soft smile. “You never have to ask,” she reassured him, lifting her head to look at him.

“Then I will not,” he replied with a wolfish grin, making her squeal as he grabbed at her once more, manhandling her by her thighs and hips until she hovered over his face, her knees on either side of his head.

It was then that she looked down at his face, his seeing eye fixated upon her still glistening sex, and she noticed the smattering of yellow beneath his nostrils – the same hue as the pollen that filled the flowers she had plucked from their vine earlier that day, and realisation set in. As Aemond pulled her against his searching mouth, and his tongue began to lap at the mess he had made of her, she moaned softly, looking up towards the vase that housed the pretty red and orange flowers. She decided there and then that they would become a permanent fixture of their marital chambers from that moment onwards.

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More Aemond fics

[bloodraven55]

official art of lesbian ships in wedding clothes my beloved

[schniiipsel]

autumn check-in ♡ so many of us are going through a hard time right now and i want to spread some love and kindness!! i wish you all the warm, healing energies and hope that you are doing well over there!! take care 🫂

Thank u, Ange! That's really sweet and I hope you're doing well! 🫶🫶

[littlenastieswewhispered]