#modern!aemond targaryen x y/n | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

moonlightrafe · 6 months ago

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Bad Idea, Right?

summary: A night of drinking with your friends lands you at your ex boyfriend’s apartment — which is ultimately a bad idea.

pairing: Modern!Aemond x Ex girlfriend!Reader

word count: 3k

warnings: Explicit smut, alcohol consumption, angst, brief mention of drug use, language, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, p in v sex, creampie, Aemond is a fuckboy. 18+ MDNI

note: idk how I feel about this but Modern!Aemond is my weakness, and the grwm of Ewan ruined my life. Feedback is appreciated! Feel free to send me requests!

If someone were to ask you your own personal example of girlhood your answer would be simple: getting ready for a night out with your girlfriends. While going out and partying with your friends was fun, you considered the act of getting ready together art in itself.

It was tradition, a ritual. Filled with laughter, inside jokes, excitement, and anticipation.

Glitter, hairspray, memories. It was your time to bond and let go of everyday stress.

And that’s where you found yourself right now: sat in front of your best friend’s vanity, large curlers in your hair. The sweet smell of vanilla coming from Rhaena’s birthday cake scented candle filling the room.

Six months had passed since your breakup with Aemond and the twins had declared that you had spent more than enough time moping. It was time to get you back out in the world.

“I’m so happy that us girls are going out tonight,” Baela said as she finished up applying her mascara.

You involuntarily scoffed at her comment.

“What?” She questioned, glaring at you.

“It’s not like it’s just us,” you say matter of factly.

“Oh, come on! You know Jace is basically one of us!”

She wasn’t wrong. If you had to pick a guy to be in your friend group, it would be Jace Velaryon. He was easy to talk to, kind, considerate. A breath of fresh air from what you were used to. You understood why Baela was into him. Plus, he donned a beautiful set of chocolate colored curls matched with an adorable, toothy, grin.

“Do not beat around the bush, Bae!” You admonished, “I know Cregan will be there too.”

Cregan Stark was Jace’s best friend. A rugged guy from the North. He had a thick beard and piercing gray-blue eyes. He had quiet confidence, basically a big teddy bear. There was no denying he was rather handsome. It’s not that you would be opposed to sleeping with him, per say, you just weren’t sure if you were ready yet; although Baela begged to differ.

Once the three of you were all ready to go and the Uber was on it’s way, Baela pulled you to the side.

“Look,” she began, holding each of your hands in hers, “I know you're nervous. You’ve been through a lot and it can be hard to put yourself back out there — but you deserve this. Aemond’s out living his life, you have to live yours! It’s going to be fine! You look incredible, we are going to have a great time.”

Baela, as usual, was right. You were enjoying yourself. You were now on your third drink, tapping your finger nails on the glass as you half heartedly listened to Cregan tell an embarrassing story about Jace from when the two of them were in high school when you felt your phone vibrate.

A text from an unknown number flashed against your screen, paying no mind to it you opened it immediately. Your stomach dropped.

Hey… it’s Aemond.

You swore that men had some kind of radar that would let them know when a woman was finally happy without them. When that radar went off, only then was it that they decided to try to contact you again. Not during the months where your heart was left in ruin, not when you would do anything for answers. Only once you were healing, on the brink of reaching that light at the end of the tunnel; they weaseled their way into your life once more to ruin everything — and Aemond was right on schedule.

It had been months since he last contacted you, you felt as though your stomach was gonna fall out, your nervous system in a frenzy.

You could not let him ruin your fun.

“Let’s take a shot of something,” you suggested.

And then your phone buzzed again.

I know it’s been awhile, but I wanted to see how you’re doing?

Been awhile? That’s the understatement of the year. He didn’t care how you were doing when he broke up with you over a text. He didn’t care when the rumor of him sleeping with a professor spread around campus, humiliating you.

Ignore. Ignore. Ignore.

Relief washed over you once you saw Baela return with 5 shots of Tequila in hand.

“Heard this makes your clothes come off,” she said as she handed you the shot glass, shooting a wink over to Cregan. You downed the shot quickly, ignoring her comment. The liquid burned down your throat as it settled into your stomach.

Slamming the shot glass onto the table, your head spun and you could’ve sworn you felt your phone vibrate again. You needed air.

“I’ll be right back, I need a cigarette.”

“I’ll come with you!” Rhaena chirped.

“No!” You shouted, almost too enthusiastically.

“No, that’s okay. I know you hate the smell of smoke, Rhae. I’ll just be a minute.”

With that, you frantically made your way to the patio of the bar. Just as you lit your cigarette a familiar voice called out to you.

“Ohhh shit! I knew that was you!”

Now you were sure that the universe was certainly conspiring against you. It was none other than Aegon Targaryen. Aemond’s drunken, perverted, older brother. Wonderful.

Turning on your heel abruptly and puffing smoke out of your nostrils you gave him a reluctant wave.

“Hi, Aeg.”

“How are you?” He asked, wrapping his arms tightly around you, “how have you been?”

Not sure if it was the liquid courage or the need for someone else to witness the audacity of your ex, but you just shoved your phone into his chest, eyes glued to him as he scrolled through the messages with his eyebrows raised.

“Damn, I never would have thought Aemond to be the type to beg!” he laughed as you shot him a look of disapproval.

“Listen,” he said before taking a long drag of his own cigarette, “Aemond means well. He was pretty shaken up after you guys broke up.”

Yeah, right. What was there for him to be shaken up about? He broke up with you.

“And if you ask me,” he continued through puffs of his cigarette, “you’re the best thing that ever happened to him.”

“Isn’t he seeing someone like, twice our age?”

“Not anymore.”

A pregnant pause filled the air between the two of you as he handed you your phone back.

The conversation was becoming awkward, so Aegon tried to comfort you the only way he knew how.

“I know you’re stressed and all… do you, uhhh, want a bump?”

His question took you by surprise.

“A bump? Um, I’m good, Aeg.. thanks.”

The blonde lifted his hands up in defeat.

“Good call, if you do go see Aemond, I doubt he would be happy about that.”

“I’m not going to see Aemond,” you answer flatly, hitting his arm lightly.

“Well, whatever or whoever you decide to do tonight I wish you luck!” he smirked, “but, I know our mom would be thrilled if you started to come around again.”

“She misses me?” you blurted out, the desperation clear in your voice.

“Yeah,” Aegon shrugged, “we all do.” He smiled as his large palm patted against your back before he made his way back inside the bar.

You stood in silence as you finished your cigarette, unsure of what to do when you received yet another text from Aemond. You responded with the first thing that came to your mind.

Have you been drinking?

No. Come over. I want to see you.

Your phone buzzed again, but this time it was a picture. A photo of his cat Vhagar. The elderly feline was sprawled out across his leather couch, the caption reading: “she misses you too.”

She did not. She only ever liked Aemond.

Well, I’ve been drinking so… can’t drive.

Where are you? I’ll come get you.

No. He couldn’t. You couldn’t risk Baela seeing, she would kill you.

Nah. That’s okay.

God, this conversation was going nowhere. Why were you entertaining him anyway?

Let me get you an Uber.

Buzz.

Please.

Gods, he was pushy.

Fine 🫠

Once you found yourself back inside the bar, you decided to use that last shot of tequila as your reason to leave. You had said something along the lines of the mixture of liquors wasn’t agreeing with you and that you were gonna head out. The girls were disappointed, but they understood. Baela’s only condition is that you were sure to text her once you were home safe. You bid Jace and Cregan goodbye, and even agreed to go out for drinks with them again in the upcoming week.

As you sat in the backseat of the Uber, your palms filled with sweat and your heart raced as you made your way to the other side of the city to Aemond’s new apartment. You couldn’t help but feel nervous, wondering how he might react and if this was the right decision. Your mind raced with thoughts and emotions, but you tried to stay composed as you you pulled up to the building.

Aemond was waiting outside the apartment complex for you. His expression was unreadable as he puffed on the last few drags of a cigarette, quickly flicking it to the ground and stomping it out so he could make his way over to you.

“Hey,” he greeted, offering a shy smile before extending his arms out to hug you. “I’m glad you decided to come.”

His scent alone was intoxicating. A mixture of nicotine, spearmint toothpaste and musky cologne. Being in his embrace again had your head spinning, you felt as if your heart was going to beat out of your chest. It was almost as if the two of you never parted ways, like he never left. Damn him, you thought to yourself .

“Well, this is my new place,” he said as he opened the door to the lavish apartment. It was absolutely was stunning. Beautiful, mahogany cabinets and stainless steel appliances. The living room was spacious with high ceilings and a giant window that had an incredible view of the city. It was very Aemond-esque. It felt familiar, safe.

You spotted Vhagar on the dark green velvet couch in the center of the room.

You watched carefully as one of her eyes opened, she rose from her spot almost instantly once she spotted you. Making a beeline to Aemond’s bedroom.

“I thought you said she missed me?” you asked playfully.

"I may have lied," Aemond replied, giving you a shy smile.

An hour had gone by and you had spent the majority of it arguing with Aemond about your past. You listened to him attempt to apologize, explaining that it wasn’t you, it was him. He made a mistake, he’s changed. You weren’t having it, and yet, in the midst of it all, you had found yourself sitting so close to him you were almost on top of him. Mid sentence he had crashed his lips against yours. A rude interruption, for sure — but now, all bets were off.

The kiss was rough and intoxicating, a clash of teeth and tongue. He grazed your bottom lip with his teeth before sucking it into his mouth. Your head spun.

"More," you whispered against his lips, "I need more of you."

Aemond took no time to pick you up and carry you to his bedroom, as he placed you down on his bed gently. You feel his hands tearing off your clothes, striping you down to your underwear. Your heart raced with anticipation and desire. The intensity of his touch sent shivers down your spine. He lowered himself on top of you, reaching his arm up over his shoulder to remove his own shirt.

As he leant back down over you, his tongue trailed from your chin to your lips. A soft moan escaped your throat as he sucked on your lips, taking control of the kiss.

Arousal stirred inside you as he nipped down at your neck, licking and sucking until you arched your back under him, desperate for his touch.

“Missed me baby?” he teased, “because I sure missed you”, his violet eye scanned over your body, blown with lust as he made his way down. His slim fingers ghosted along your stomach, then gripped harshly onto the meaty flesh of your thigh. Your legs parted, letting him know what you wanted. He didn't hesitate, pulling your underwear off with one swoop. Leaving you completely bare in front of him.

“I missed this pretty little pussy too, fuck,” he groaned before biting at your thighs just before lowering his head between them, licking a stripe up your slit. You bucked under him, pushing him harder against you, driving his face deeper into your center.

A low groan left your throat, his name falling from your lips as you tugged at his silver hair and held his face against you. His tongue circled around your clit, the small bud swollen from his attentions. His fingers found their way inside you, exploring your cunt.

His thumb replaced his tongue on your clit as he rubbed harsh figure eights against you. He continued to rub your clit harder. Your breathing quickened, and your body legs began to shake.

"Oh, there’s my girl. You gonna cum for me?"

The combination of his words and a few more thrusts of his fingers made your mind go completely blank. Your ears rang, your vision blurred so much you had to squeeze your eyes shut, eventually seeing stars. Aemond finger fucked you through your orgasm as you soaked his hand.

You laid there for a moment, total blackness surrounding you until your Aemond’s calm voice brought you back to reality.

“Holy shit. You good baby?”

You nodded your head eagerly at him, “More than okay.”

After giving you some more time to come down from your first orgasm, Aemond crawled on top of you, as he began to slowly drag his cock between your already swollen folds, swirling the tip in your wetness; almost pushing in, but not quite.

“Aem,” you moaned, “please, I need to feel you. All of you .”

“Still so needy, hm?” He teased as he buried his cock inside you to the hilt. You winced at the length of him.

“Littleeee bit of a stretch baby,” he said as he let you adjust to his size, “there we go.”

"Oh.. Gods," you moaned. You forgot just how big Aemond was. The stretch was almost unbearable and yet, you craved more. You wrapped your legs around him, pulling him deeper into you.

He began to rock back and forth into you, pumping his cock in and out. The louder you moaned, the harder he pounded into you. Eventually, the head of his cock pressed against your cervix.

"Please, please don't stop," you begged. He began to pound into you harder and faster, the lewd sound of his balls slapping against your ass filled the room. You felt your second orgasm of the night building inside of you as he continued to fuck you.

"Oh, Gods! Aemond, please, you’re going to make me cum again,” you babbled as your orgasm ripped through you once more. Your cunt clenched around his length as the tip of his cock bullied the spongy spot inside you without mercy.

Your slick coated walls contracting around him was all it took for him to lose control. He let out a loud groan as he spilled himself inside you, filling you with his seed as he bit down hard on your neck.

“Fuck,” he groaned as the aftermath of his own orgasm coursed through him, his cock still twitching inside of you. After placing a wet kiss on your cheek he positioned himself upright, placing a hand flat on the headboard behind you to help keep balance, he slowly pulled his cock out of you. You winced at the emptiness, a pool of warmth leaking out of your cunt and onto the bed sheets.

“Oh, shit. Here, let me help clean you up.”

As you came down from your high, you also came to your senses. No. Him cleaning you up would be too intimate of an act — as if he wasn’t just buried inside of you.

“No, Aem. It’s fine, I need to go to the bathroom anyway.”

He shrugged, “there are washcloths under the sink if you need one.”

Your heart sank as the bathroom door shut. A red lacy bra, that definitely didn’t belong to you was slung over the door handle. Memories of your past relationship came flooding back, along with feelings of sadness and regret. You couldn’t help but wonder who the bra belongs to, your first thought was that older professor. It's a painful reminder that not only had Aemond had not changed at all, he also just took advantage of you.

This was definitely a bad idea.

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humanpurposes · 25 days ago

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Hi hiiii I couldn’t resist to not slide into your inbox and request a Christmas fic based on this prompt with a Aemond who isn’t used to his girl’s flirty behavior and gets flustered soo easily👀 you can totally ignore this if you don’t like it<3333

“Since I can’t ride in Santa’s sleigh, can I ride you instead?” “Sorry, what?”

HI RUE ✨ Kinda put my own spin on this but I'm sure you'll love it <3

Can I Ride You Instead?

modern!Aemond x reader

Words: 1.6k

Warnings: smut, Aemond being a workaholic while his girl has needs

A/n: It's tiiiiime, happy 1st December!!

Main Masterlist // Christmas Masterlist

One more night in King’s Landing. You look out from the window at the lights in the city; street lamps; lively pubs; offices that have been abandoned until new year; and all the festive lights lining the highstreets. Conquest Street is your favourite place to be this time of year. You love the displays in the shop windows, the market in the square, the little wooden huts selling scarves and handmade jewellery, the smell of mulled wine, sugar and cinnamon, almost tangible in your nose and on your tongue. What you wouldn’t give to be there right now.

Aemond’s apartment is bleak by comparison. He doesn’t see the point in decorations, not when he’ll be spending Christmas at his family’s estate– at Dragonstone, Christmas is Alicent’s territory. Aemond’s place is clean, lit by lowlights with no bursts of colour or fairy lights and no tree.

He’s sitting at the dining table. The cold glare of his laptop shines over his face and reflects in the lenses of his glasses.

This boy never takes a break.

Term technically doesn’t end until tomorrow but everyone you know has already gone home to make the most of the break. Not Aemond. He wants to stay for as long as possible. He doesn’t talk about his family much, but you can put pieces together. You booked your own train ticket home according to his because you could think of nothing worse than leaving him alone on the run up to Christmas.

“Sit down, you’re making me anxious,” Aemond says, not looking up from the screen.

He’s been on the verge of irritation all day. You’re in the kitchen trying to make hot chocolate? Too much noise, he says. You’re at the dining table wrapping presents for your parents? Too distracting.

You take slow steps across the floor, behind his chair, draping yourself over his shoulders. He’s working on some project for an internship and simultaneously trying to get ahead on the research for his dissertation.

You love how he looks when he’s focused, the frown that means he’s utterly absorbed in what he’s doing. It’s not quite so endearing when he could be focusing on you instead.

Your arms wrap around him. He pushes his glasses up and puts a hand over yours, a featherlight touch. You want more.

“It’s getting late you say,” letting your lips ghost over his temple.

“It’s not even six.”

“You should take a break. We could order food?”

“Yeah, when I’m done with this, I just need to–”

“Aemond.”

Your arms fall away from him and he looks up at you with a slow breath. His expression is soft, his eyes slightly hooded, his lips fallen. He knows he's upset you.

“Aemond, it’s our last night together before Christmas.”

He shuts the lid of his laptop and leaves his glasses on the table. As much as you love how he looks with them on, there’s something about the unobstructed view of his face that never fails to take your breath away. Especially his eyes, one blue, one glass and made to imitate a sapphire, framed in a neat scar running down the left side of his face, an injustice of childhood.

He leans forward, snaking his hands to your waist, pulling you in towards him.

It’s an unfair move really. Suddenly all you want to do is run your fingers through his silver hair, tilt his chin up, hold his face in your hands.

“You’re right, darling,” he says, stroking his thumbs in circles where they fall against your belly. You feel the pressure of it through the knit jumper you wear. “Let’s go out. Pub? Restaurant? What’s the market thing on Conquest Street, didn’t you mention that a while ago?”

“It’s a bit late to go out now, I’d have to get ready.”

“We’ll stay in and watch a Christmas movie then, yeah?”

“I didn’t think you’d be in the mood for something festive.”

He makes a quick face. Not that long ago you’d tried to get him to watch The Muppet Christmas Carol, and he was far from impressed. What horrors will you have in store for him next? “Whatever you want. I want whatever you want.”

You coax him to the sofa, big and plush and expensive. Aemond throws a blanket over the two of you and with a few taps of his phone arranges the food. Without much deliberation you put on Love Actually, meeting Aemond’s eye with a wide grin.

He hides his face in his hands but survives the ordeal.

By the time the credits are rolling it’s not particularly late, but you’re dreading the morning. You’ll have to wake up early, pack a bag, then you and Aemond will go to the train station together and go your separate ways until the new year. A whole two weeks apart.

You cozy up to him, breathe in the smell of his aftershave.

“What now, another film?” He asks, trying to find the remote.

Another idea pops into your head. “We could do something else?”

Aemond catches your eye, trying not to smile. “Now let me think, what else could we possibly do, hmm?” He’s awful at playing coy and has been since the moment you met him. He’s too observant, too intent on the details to play dumb.

“Well,” you say, tracing fingertips along the material of his sweats, over his thigh, “since it is the season, and I can’t ride Santa’s sleigh, can I ride you instead?”

His mouth bursts into a messy smile. “Sorry, what?”

You mean to huff out of annoyance but it comes out like a laugh. “I’m trying to be cute!”

Aemond takes your chin in his fingers and your body freezes. “You really don’t need to try,” he says, and leans in to capture your lips with his.

The way Aemond kisses makes you melt every time. He’s slow and commanding, like he’s savouring every precious moment. His hands slide underneath your jumper, dragging along your skin to hold your waist. The promise of what will come next puts you on edge.

Sparse gasps for breath hum in the back of your throat. Aemond smiles against your lips and holds you tighter, dragging you to straddle his lap. He pulls away from your mouth, to your frustration, and places a wide palm at your navel, the waist of your jeans. “Stand up, need to get these off.”

You move off him and go to undo the top button, but Aemond grabs your wrists and pulls you closer. You watch as he smiles slightly, his fingers moving to undo the button and the zip. He’s teasing you, drawing out the anticipation as much as he can.

You sigh in relief once they’re off, dragging them down your legs, tossing them aside and coming back to straddle Aemond.

His hands settle at your thighs. “Look at you, so eager, hmm?”

“You can’t blame me, you’ve been ignoring me all day,” you say, grinding your clothed core against the bulge in his sweats. You can be teasing too, with drawn out movements of your hips.

Aemond’s jaw tightens. You can see he’s trying to stay smug. “Well, we’re fixing that now.”

You press a kiss to his cheek while your fingertips curl at the top of his sweats, dragging them down enough to free his cock. He’s taught you what he likes and if you were feeling patient you might have come to your knees before him, but at the slightest touch of Aemond’s fingertips against the fabric over your clit, you know what you need.

He pulls your panties to the side, dragging you along his leaking cock with a hand at your lower back. He’s hard and you’re achingly wet. He holds you where he wants you, lining himself up to pull you down onto his length. The stretch is sharp and sweet, hollowing you out and filling you perfectly.

Aemond’s head falls against the back of the sofa as you sink down.

“Does it feel good?” you tease him.

He’s breathless, helplessly watching the space where your bodies meet. “Fuck, perfect little pussy– feels so good,”

You cradle your arms around his head as you ride him, unhurried, hands restless as you feel his hair and the sides of his face, along his jaw.

Aemond hardly has to do anything, as soon as his fingertips are on your clit you feel your spine straighten and something inside you tighten. He circles over you lazily, watching your face with a soft, admiring kind of amusement.

“Right there,” you whisper, “don’t fucking stop.”

“Are you gonna come for me, darling?”

Your thighs are burning at the effort but you don’t care. You’re so close, so close.

“Beg me,” Aemond murmurs.

A slew of slurred and breathless pleas fall from your lips. You can feel the slickness between your legs, how easily he glides over you, how deep his cock reaches inside of you, pushing against the right spot.

Aemond hums as he grabs your hips with his free hand, fucking you faster and harder until you’re falling apart, convulsing, melting.

You fall against Aemond, holding each other closer as you wait for the deliriousness to fade away. Suddenly the air is unbearably cold. You cling to Aemond, to his warmth, content in his arms.

“Happy with your ride?” Aemond asks. You can hear him grinning.

You lift your head and rest it against his shoulder. The light of the TV catches in his features, his jaw, his cheeks, his nose, the details of grey in his right eye and the unnatural bright blue of his left.

“Can I go again?”

Aemond leans into you, pressing his nose against yours. “You can ride me as many times as you want, darling.”

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maidragoste · 21 days ago

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Aemond Targaryen x Wife!Reader

Can we pretend I posted this yesterday? lol

Please if you like it don't hesitate to like, leave a comment and share 🥰🥰💖💖

If you have any more ideas for other drabbles please send them to my inbox 🤗💖

Anyway I hope you have a good read!

Aemond felt his body relax as he entered his house. It was warm there, nothing like the cold outside, and he could smell vanilla from the entrance. He smiled thinking that he would soon be able to try one of your wonderful cookies. He had been looking forward to that since you sent him pictures of you and the kids baking while he was at work.

Aemond hurriedly took off his coat and then went to the kitchen.

“Mmm, smells good,” he said, drawing everyone’s attention. You, Naerys, and Daella stopped decorating their cookies while Baelon stopped eating the frosting on the sly.

“Kepa!” Baelon, Naerys, and Daella shouted happily.

Your husband first greeted each of his children with a kiss on the forehead and then went to kiss you.

“Welcome home,” you smiled on his lips while he placed one of his hands on your lower back just to touch you. “How was your day?”

“Good” he replied and was about to grab one of the undecorated cookies when Baelon slapped him. “Why was that?” he asked, arching an eyebrow.

“You can't eat until they're decorated,” the boy replied.

“Baelon is right, kepa,” said Daella supporting her brother.

“We were waiting for you to make the trees. Muña says you're better at decorating them,” said Naerys.

“Okay, okay. First, we'll decorate, and then we'll eat,” he agreed, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt. Baelon, stop eating the icing because otherwise we'll be left without decorations.”

“Baelon!” his sisters shouted angrily.

Before a fight between the children began, Aemond took a sleeve of green icing and began to show them how he decorated the trees. You watched fondly as he took the time to make a cookie with each of your children and complimented them on their work. Aemond pretended not to notice as you took pictures of them, surely you would show them later.

At one point, while Baelon, Daella, and Naerys were busy competing to see who could decorate the best, you motioned for your husband to come to your side. Aemond was quick to do so and smiled as he watched you hand him a cookie from under the counter. With his back to the children and making sure they couldn’t see him, he quickly took a bite. He savored the sugar and vanilla.

“Delicious, as always,” he said before kissing you.

Taglist for all my House of the Dragon works

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br0kenangel · 3 months ago

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𓈒ㅤׂㅤ 𓇼 ࣪ 𝐌𝐲 𝐝♡ve 𓈒ㅤׂㅤ⭒⠀

Pairing: Unhinged Aegon x Therapist Reader part 4

Summary: you left as fast as you could. What was his gift? You were praying to god that your love be safe. But little you knew, it was just the start...

Warning: blood, mental illness.

˚꒰♡꒱‧ Hi there! Before you read this, you should know that English is not my first language. Original gif by @asoiaffan ♡ Hope you enjoy!

PART 1, PART 2, PART 3

Y/N's heart pounded in her chest like a drum as she gripped the steering wheel, her knuckles white. Her breathing was shallow, frantic, as if she couldn’t get enough air into her lungs. Every horrible possibility ran through her mind, twisting her thoughts into a frantic knot. Her boyfriend wasn’t answering his calls. Aegon had smiled at her like he had some dark secret, that twisted, sick smile. The gift he left. What had he done?

She pressed down harder on the gas pedal, the car speeding recklessly through the empty streets. The world around her blurred as she focused solely on getting home—on finding out what was waiting for her. Her hands were trembling so violently she could barely keep the car steady. As she took a sharp turn, her tires screeched against the pavement, almost colliding with a car coming from the opposite direction.

“Shit!” she gasped, jerking the wheel back. Her pulse skyrocketed, her breath coming in short, rapid bursts. The other car honked angrily as it sped past, but Y/N didn’t care. She couldn’t think about anything except getting home.

“Aegon’s lying,” she muttered under her breath, her voice trembling. “He’s trying to scare me. He’s just… messing with me. I’ll get home, and it’ll be fine. It’ll be fine.”

But no matter how much she tried to convince herself, the fear was still there, gnawing at her insides like a festering wound. She could still hear Aegon’s voice in her head, the way he had laughed so softly, so eerily.

Did you open the gift I left you?

Y/N swallowed back the rising panic, her throat tightening. Her vision blurred with unshed tears, her heart thundering so loudly in her chest she thought it might explode. She pressed harder on the gas, speeding through another intersection without checking. Her mind was a whirlwind, screaming at her, warning her, pleading with her to turn back—but she couldn’t. She had to know. She had to see.

When she finally pulled into her driveway, she slammed on the brakes, barely giving the car time to stop before she jumped out. The moment she stepped outside, she froze.

The air was thick, heavy with a putrid smell—like something had rotted, festered. Her stomach lurched as the stench hit her full force, bile rising in her throat. It was a smell she couldn’t ignore, and it only heightened her terror. Something was wrong. Something was so wrong.

“Jacob…” Her voice cracked as she whispered her boyfriend’s name, the words barely a breath. Tears pricked her eyes as she stumbled toward the door, her legs weak and shaky. The smell only grew stronger as she got closer to the house, the kind of stench that clung to the walls, suffocating. Her mind spiraled into horrible images, and she felt her knees buckle beneath the weight of her fear.

“What did Aegon do?” she whimpered, her throat dry, her lips trembling.

She fumbled with the keys, her hands shaking uncontrollably as she unlocked the door and stepped inside. The smell hit her full force, thick and rancid, making her gag. Her eyes watered from the stench, and her mind immediately jumped to the worst conclusion. She couldn’t think straight. She couldn’t breathe.

“Jacob,” she whispered again, her voice desperate, pleading. “Please, God, no…”

Her eyes scanned the room, her vision blurry with fear. The house was eerily silent, except for the pounding of her heart in her ears. The living room was still, as if nothing had been disturbed. But then her gaze fell on something that hadn’t been there before—a large box sitting in the middle of the couch.

Y/N froze. The knot in her stomach twisted violently, her chest tightening with dread. The gift.

She took a slow, shaky step toward the box, her heart pounding so hard she could feel it in her throat. The stench was overwhelming now, and her breath came in shallow gasps as she tried to steel herself, telling herself it would be okay.

“He’s messing with me. He’s messing with me. He wouldn’t…”

But her thoughts were fractured, her mind replaying Aegon’s twisted smile, his eerie laugh, the way he had hinted at something horrible waiting for her. Her steps were slow, each one more painful than the last as she forced herself closer to the box. Every fiber of her being screamed for her to stop, to run, to leave—but she couldn’t. She had to know. She had to see what he had done.

Her knees nearly gave out beneath her as she stood in front of the box. Her hands trembled violently, hovering over the lid. She squeezed her eyes shut, her breath ragged as she tried to calm herself, tried to tell herself that whatever was inside, she could handle it.

“You can do this,” she whispered to herself, her voice shaking. “It’s just a box. Just open it. Open it, and it’ll be over.”

She took a deep breath, her hands trembling as she gripped the lid. And then, just as she was about to lift it, she heard it.

“Meow.”

Y/N’s eyes snapped open, her heart skipping a beat. The sound was soft, almost delicate, and it took her a moment to process what she had heard. Slowly, with trembling hands, she lifted the lid of the box. Inside, curled up in a soft blanket, was a small golden kitten with wide, innocent eyes and a pretty blue collar around its neck.

For a moment, Y/N just stared, unable to comprehend what she was seeing. Her breath caught in her throat, and the tears that had been threatening to spill over finally broke free. She let out a sob—of relief, of exhaustion, of fear—and collapsed to her knees in front of the box.

It was just a kitten. A cute, tiny kitten. Nothing horrible. Nothing gruesome. Just… a kitten.

“Oh my God,” she choked out between sobs, her hands trembling as she reached into the box and scooped the kitten up into her arms. The kitten nuzzled against her, purring softly, and Y/N cried harder, her body shaking with the force of her relief.

She hugged the kitten tightly to her chest, pressing her face into its soft fur as she sobbed uncontrollably. The tension, the fear, the gut-wrenching panic she had felt—it all came crashing down at once, and she couldn’t hold it back. She kissed the top of the kitten’s head, her tears soaking into its fur as she whispered, “Thank you. Thank you, God. Oh my God…”

For what felt like hours, she just sat there, cradling the kitten, her body wracked with sobs of relief. The terror she had felt—the belief that she would find something horrible, something irreversibly gruesome—it all melted away, leaving her trembling and exhausted.

When she finally managed to calm herself down, she stood up, still holding the kitten in her arms. Her mind was a haze, her body weak from the emotional onslaught. As she walked toward the kitchen to find something for the kitten to eat, she noticed something strange—the smell was still there.

Her heart skipped a beat, and her stomach twisted again. She glanced around the kitchen, her eyes landing on the counter where a package of meat had been left out—rotting. The smell was coming from the meat.

Y/N almost laughed—a weak, breathless laugh. All of her fear, all of her panic, had been over rotting meat.

The realization made her feel foolish, but it also made her feel relieved. She hadn’t found her boyfriend’s body. She hadn’t found anything horrible waiting for her. Just a kitten and some rotten meat.

But as she fed the kitten and sat down on the floor, petting its soft fur, a new fear crept into her mind. Aegon’s words still echoed in her head. Why isn’t he answering your calls?

Her relief was short-lived, replaced by a sinking feeling of dread. Something was still wrong.

The doorbell rang, its sharp sound cutting through the quiet of the house. Y/N froze, her heart leaping into her throat. She held the kitten closer, her mind racing with a flood of possibilities. Was it Aegon? Had he followed her here? Her stomach twisted with fear as she slowly walked toward the door, her breath coming in shallow gasps.

With trembling hands, she peeked through the peephole. Her heart nearly stopped when she saw Jacob standing on the other side, holding a bouquet of flowers. For a moment, she couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe—he was alive. Jacob was standing there, perfectly fine.

She flung the door open, tears spilling down her cheeks as she threw herself into his arms, wrapping her arms around his neck and burying her face in his chest. “Jacob!” she cried, her voice muffled against his shirt. “Oh my God, I’m so happy you’re here. I missed you so much.”

Jacob stood there, stunned, the flowers still clutched in his hand as he blinked down at her. “Y/N… are you okay? What happened?”

But Y/N didn’t let him finish. She tightened her hold on him, her tears soaking into his shirt as she pressed her face harder into his chest. “I thought… I thought something happened to you,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “I’ve been so scared. I missed you so much, Jacob.”

His arms wrapped around her slowly, pulling her closer as he kissed the top of her head. “I missed you too, Y/N,” he murmured, his voice soft. He held her tightly, gently rubbing her back as he tried to calm her down. “I’m here now. Everything’s okay.”

For a moment, the relief was overwhelming, and she stayed in his arms, soaking in his warmth, the familiar smell of him. It was real—Jacob was safe, and Aegon hadn’t touched him. She hadn’t lost him.

After a few moments, they moved to the couch, and Y/N wiped her tears, trying to compose herself as she sat beside him. Jacob placed the bouquet of flowers on the coffee table, a small, awkward smile on his face as he looked at her. “I brought these for you,” he said softly.

She managed a weak smile, trying to hide the lingering fear that gnawed at her insides. “They’re beautiful. Thank you.”

They sat in a brief, comfortable silence before Jacob sighed, his expression turning more serious. “Y/N… there’s something I need to talk to you about.”

Her heart sank. Something to talk about? She suddenly had a bad feeling, the unease creeping back into her chest. But she forced a smile, trying to push the anxiety aside. “What is it?”

Jacob ran a hand through his hair, his eyes filled with hesitation. “I’ve been offered a job,” he began slowly, “but it’s far away. Really far away. I’ll have to leave soon, and I don’t know how long I’ll be gone.”

Y/N’s mind immediately raced back to Aegon—the man who had haunted her thoughts and dreams, the man who had been tormenting her for weeks. The man who might have killed Jacob if things had gone differently. The thought of being alone, with no one to protect her from Aegon, made her stomach churn. But she swallowed her fear, forcing herself to remain calm.

She couldn’t tell Jacob about Aegon. Not now. Not after everything they’d been through. She didn’t want to fight with him again, and she certainly didn’t want him to think she was crazy.

So instead, she plastered on a smile, pretending everything was fine. “That’s… great,” she said, her voice unnaturally bright. “I’m really happy for you, Jacob.”

He looked at her, his brow furrowing with concern. “Are you sure? I know it’s sudden, and I don’t want to leave you alone—”

“I’ll be fine,” Y/N interrupted, her voice firm despite the terror creeping into her chest. “I’ll be okay. You deserve this, and I don’t want to hold you back.”

Jacob smiled, relief washing over his face. He reached out and took her hand, squeezing it gently. “Thank you, Y/N. That means a lot to me.”

They sat together for a while longer, talking about the details of his job and the logistics of his trip. Y/N listened, nodding at all the right moments, but inside, her mind was spiraling with fear. She smiled when she was supposed to, laughed at his jokes, and even kissed him, pretending that everything was fine. But deep down, she was still terrified. Aegon was out there, lurking in the shadows, and she knew he wasn’t done with her.

Jacob leaned in, kissing her softly, his hands cupping her face. She kissed him back, holding him close, trying to savor the moment despite the dread twisting in her stomach. When they pulled apart, Jacob smiled, his eyes soft and full of love. “I’m going to miss you.”

“I’m going to miss you too,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Jacob smiled, clearly relieved by her reaction. He leaned in and kissed her softly, and she kissed him back, pretending everything was okay. But inside, she was shaking. The terror of what Aegon had said, of what he was capable of, still gnawed at her.

When they pulled away, Jacob wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close again. Y/N rested her head on his shoulder, trying to calm her racing thoughts. She closed her eyes, breathing in his familiar scent, trying to ground herself. But the fear still lingered, festering inside her.

Suddenly, her phone buzzed on the table, and Y/N flinched, her heart jumping into her throat. She reached for it with trembling hands, her eyes widening when she saw the message on the screen.

Do you like your gift? :)

The message was from an unknown number, but Y/N didn’t need to guess who it was. She paled, her heart hammering in her chest as the blood drained from her face. Aegon.

Her breath hitched, her body going rigid as fear gripped her once again. Her mind spiraled, panic clawing at her insides. She wanted to scream, to throw the phone across the room, to run. But she couldn’t. Not in front of Jacob.

Jacob glanced over, noticing her reaction. “Who’s that?” he asked, his voice casual, but Y/N could hear the hint of curiosity.

Y/N forced a smile, quickly locking her phone and setting it back down on the table. “No one,” she said, her voice strained but steady. “Just a spam text.”

Jacob didn’t seem to notice the tremor in her voice. He nodded, leaning back against the couch as he wrapped an arm around her. “I guess it’s just me and you tonight, then,” he said with a smile.

Y/N smiled back, but it didn’t reach her eyes. Inside, she was screaming. Aegon was watching. Aegon knew.

The days after Jacob left were quiet. Too quiet, in fact. Y/N tried to keep herself busy, throwing herself into distractions to keep her mind from wandering. At least she had Fluffy, the golden kitten Aegon had given her. He was a good boy, sweet and playful, a small comfort in the silence that now filled the house. She'd named him Fluffy because of his soft fur, and he seemed to take well to her affection, curling up in her lap and purring as if he sensed her unease.

But even Fluffy couldn't drown out the constant notifications from her phone. Aegon was still texting her, not the threatening or possessive kind of messages she was used to, but almost... sad ones. He talked about how he was feeling, how much everything hurt, how lonely he was. His words were raw, like those of a lost child, begging for attention, for someone to understand him.

“| don't know what's wrong with me anymore, Y/N."

"Everything hurts."

"I can't sleep, I can't think, I can't breathe without you."

"Why don't you ever reply? Do you even think about me? Or am I just dead to you?"

But no matter how hard she tried to focus on the kitten, or the movies, or anything else, there was one thing she couldn't escape: her phone. It buzzed constantly, the screen lighting up with message after message from Aegon. At first, she didn't bother reading them. She had learned long ago that giving him any attention, any response, was like feeding a starving animal. He would latch onto it and never let go.

He mentioned Fluffy too, explaining that he got her the kitten because he wanted her to have something to make her happy, something to be her friend when she felt alone. He wanted to give her a little version of Sunfyre, his beloved cat, so that she would have a piece of him even when he couldn't be with her. Aegon just wanted her to be happy.

There were long paragraphs detailing his spirals, how he would drink until he couldn't feel anything, how the world seemed to blur around him. His words became increasingly disjointed, desperate.

"I feel like I'm disappearing. Do you even remember me?"

"I bought him for you so you wouldn't be alone. So you'd have a piece of me with you."

"I wanted you to be happy. That's all l've ever wanted."

Sometimes, Y/N felt a strange flicker of pity for him. He sounded so hurt, so lost. But every time she thought about feeling sorry for him, she reminded herself that this was Aegon. The same man who had put her through hell, the same man who had stalked her, who had terrorized her. It didn't matter how sad or broken he sounded-she couldn't trust him. She couldn't let herself fall into that trap again.

And so, she ignored him.

She never replied to his messages. She couldn't. And for a while, it seemed like that was enough. Aegon remained calm, his texts gentle, almost pleading, but never aggressive. Everything was fine, or as fine as it could be.

Until it wasn't.

One evening, Y/N noticed her phone buzzing more than usual. At first, it was just a few messages from Aegon, the usual ramblings about his day or how much he missed her. But then the texts became more frequent, coming one after another, a steady stream of notifications lighting up her screen.

He was demanding her to reply.

It wasn't a request anymore-it was an order. The tone of his messages shifted, becoming more erratic, more desperate.

"Why aren't you answering me?"

"I know you're there."

"Please, just talk to me."

The texts came faster, piling up one after another until her phone buzzed continuously. Then, the calls started.

Her phone rang and rang, Aegon's name flashing across the screen. She ignored it, her hands trembling as she tried to keep herself calm. But the ringing didn't stop. It was relentless. The sound echoed in the small living room, pounding against her skull, making her chest tighten with anxiety.

Y/N couldn't take it anymore. Her heart was racing, her hands shaking as she reached for her phone and turned it off completely. The sudden silence was deafening, but it was better than hearing Aegon's voice, than seeing his name over and over.

She tried to distract herself, to forget about the flood of messages, about the growing dread building in the pit of her stomach. She put on a movie, curled up on the couch with Fluffy, trying to lose herself in the noise of the television. But her mind kept wandering back to Aegon, to his erratic texts, his sudden shift from pitiful to demanding. Something was Wrong. She could feel it.

And then, the doorbell rang.

Y/N’s heart stopped.

Her eyes flicked to the door, her body going cold as fear washed over her. She didn’t move at first, just stared at the door, her breath shallow, her mind racing. It couldn’t be…

Slowly, she stood up, her legs trembling as she moved toward the door, careful not to make a sound. She didn’t want to look. She didn’t want to see who was standing on the other side. But she had to know.

Peeking through the peephole, her blood turned to ice.

It was Aegon.

He was standing there, his face pale and smeared with blood. His clothes were stained with it too, dark crimson splashes that looked like they’d been hastily wiped away. His hair was disheveled, his eyes wide and wild, like an animal cornered and desperate.

Y/N’s heart pounded in her chest, her breath coming in shallow gasps as she watched him. He didn’t look right. He didn’t look normal. Something was horribly, horribly wrong.

And then he spoke.

“Please… let me in.”

Her breath hitched, her entire body stiffening in place. She didn't respond. She couldn't. Her throat was too tight, her mind racing too fast to form coherent thoughts. She just stood there, frozen in place, as he pressed his bloodied hand against the door, smearing it with red.

"I need you," he whispered, his voice hoarse, trembling. "Something happened. I did something bad. I don't know what to do. I don't know who to go to."

Tears welled up in his eyes, and he looked so utterly pathetic, so broken, that for a fleeting moment, Y/N almost felt sorry for him again. Almost. But the sheer terror that gripped her heart wouldn't let her move. She couldn't afford to feel sorry for him. Not now.

"I don't feel good, Y/N" Aegon sobbed, his hand sliding down the door, leaving a dark red smear behind. "Please... I just want to see you. Please. Let me in."

Y/N’s hand hovered over the doorknob, her mind a storm of confusion and fear. A part of her wanted to open the door, wanted to help him. He looked so broken, so lost. She couldn’t help but feel that same flicker of pity again, that small voice in the back of her mind whispering that maybe he really did need her, that maybe he really was just a scared, lonely boy.

But then Aegon’s face twisted, his tear-streaked expression contorting into something darker, something terrifying.

“You fucking bitch!” he snarled, slamming his fists against the door. The sudden violence made Y/N jump, her breath catching in her throat as she stumbled back, her eyes wide with terror.

“I know you’re in there!” Aegon screamed, his voice raw with rage. “You think you can hide from me?! You think I don’t fucking know?!”

He pounded on the door again, harder this time, the wood rattling under the force of his fists. “You’re mine!” he shouted, his voice cracking with fury. “I’ll fucking kill you, Y/N! I’ll rip you open! I’ll tear you apart!”

Y/N’s body went cold, her heart pounding so hard it felt like it would burst from her chest. She stumbled back, her mind screaming at her to run, to hide. She couldn’t stay here. She couldn’t face him. Not like this.

Y/N's body moved on instinct, her fight-or-flight response kicking in. She ran. She bolted to the bedroom, slamming the door behind her, her heart hammering in her chest. Her hands shook so violently that she could barely turn the lock, but she did it. She locked the door and stumbled backward.

Y/N sat huddled in the tub, her entire body trembling uncontrollably, clutching Fluffy so tightly that she could feel his little heartbeat against her chest. Her breath was shallow, uneven, the fear twisting in her stomach like a knife. She pressed her hand over her mouth, trying to silence the sobs that threatened to escape. If she made a sound—any sound—he would know where she was.

The front door had crashed open. Aegon was inside. He didn’t call out anymore; the apartment had gone terrifyingly quiet except for the slow, deliberate thud of his footsteps. Each step echoed through the empty rooms, growing louder, heavier. He was searching for her.

Her mind raced, each frantic thought more horrifying than the last.

He’s going to find me. He’s going to kill me.

Her heart hammered so violently in her chest that she thought it might explode. The apartment was small; there weren’t many places to hide. He would check the bedroom soon. It was only a matter of time before he found her.

Stay quiet. Don’t move. Don’t breathe. Maybe he’ll leave. Maybe he’ll think you’re not here.

But the thought was ridiculous. He knew she was here. He had known from the moment he’d started pounding on the door. He could feel her fear, her presence, like a shark smelling blood in the water.

The footsteps grew closer.

Oh god, oh god, oh god.

She squeezed her eyes shut, pressing herself against the cold, hard surface of the tub. Her grip tightened around Fluffy, who had gone still in her arms, sensing the terror in the air. She could hear Aegon’s footsteps in the hallway now, slow and methodical, as if he were savoring the anticipation.

Don’t come in here. Please, don’t come in here.

The bedroom door creaked open.

Her entire body went rigid, her breath catching in her throat. She bit down on her lower lip so hard that she tasted blood, forcing herself to stay still, stay quiet. Her chest ached from the effort of holding her breath. Every muscle in her body screamed in agony from the tension, but she didn’t dare move. She didn’t dare make a sound.

The silence was unbearable. The only thing she could hear was the pounding of her own heartbeat in her ears, each thud a countdown to her doom.

The floorboards creaked. He was inside the room now.

Her mind was racing, a whirlwind of fear and desperation. What do I do? What can I do?

Run? No, he was too close. He would hear her. He would catch her. There was nowhere to run.

Fight? With what? She had nothing. She was defenseless. He was stronger than her, and she had seen the blood. She had no idea what he was capable of.

Hide. Just hide. Stay quiet.

She could hear him moving through the room, the soft scrape of his shoes against the floor. He wasn’t saying anything, but the silence was more terrifying than his screaming had ever been. It was the silence of someone who knew exactly what they were going to do. The silence of someone who was in control.

He’s looking for me. Her stomach twisted into a knot of terror.

The sound of a drawer being yanked open, then another. He was checking everywhere. She could picture him tearing through the room, methodically searching every corner, every shadow. Her heart thudded in her chest, so loud she thought for sure he could hear it. Can he hear it? The thought sent a fresh wave of panic surging through her.

Please, please, just leave.

Suddenly, the air in the room shifted. Y/N’s breath hitched as she realized he was standing right outside the bathroom door. She could hear his breathing now, low and ragged, like a beast just beyond the threshold.

He knows. He knows I’m in here.

Her whole body locked up in terror as she imagined him standing there, staring at the door, his bloodshot eyes wide and crazed, his hands still covered in blood. Her mind conjured up horrifying images of him busting through, grabbing her, and dragging her out of the tub, his fingers sinking into her flesh.

He’s going to kill me. He’s going to kill me and I’ll never see daylight again.

Fluffy shifted slightly in her arms, a soft, almost imperceptible meow escaping his tiny throat. Y/N’s breath hitched, terror flashing through her veins like electricity. No, no, no, no, no.

The bathroom door handle rattled.

She froze. Every inch of her body turned to ice. The metal handle creaked as Aegon twisted it, testing the lock. It didn’t open, but he was trying. He was there. Just on the other side.

Her entire world shrank to that single sound—the soft, rhythmic rattling of the door handle as Aegon tried to get in. It felt like hours passed as she sat there, paralyzed in the tub, waiting for the inevitable. Waiting for him to break through.

And then, with a sickening thud, the door slammed.

He was pounding on it now, harder and harder, the force of his blows making the door tremble. Each hit reverberated through her, shaking her down to her core.

Oh god, he’s coming in. He’s going to get in.

The doorframe groaned under the pressure, the wood splintering. Y/N pressed herself further into the tub, trying to make herself as small as possible, her heart racing so fast it felt like it might burst. Her breathing was shallow, her chest tight with fear. Every instinct screamed at her to move, to run, but she couldn’t. She was trapped.

The door cracked. She could hear the wood giving way.

Oh god, he’s going to kill me. He’s going to kill me.

But then… silence.

The pounding stopped.

She blinked, her breath catching in her throat. Was it over? Did he leave?

Her body trembled, her muscles aching from the tension. She didn’t dare move. She didn’t dare make a sound. She just waited, listening.

Nothing. No footsteps. No breathing. Just the eerie, deafening quiet.

Slowly, cautiously, she lifted her head, straining to hear something—anything. Her heart pounded in her chest, her breath coming in shallow gasps. Maybe he had given up. Maybe he was gone.

But then, out of nowhere, a loud, sickening crash shattered the silence.

Y/N’s blood ran cold. She whipped her head toward the source of the sound, her heart seizing in her chest.

Aegon’s face smashed through the small window in the bathroom door, the glass shattering around him. His bloodshot eye stared through the broken pane, wide and unblinking, searching. His face was smeared with blood, his skin pale and stretched tight over his bones, but it was his eye—his one, crazed, bloodshot eye—that was the most terrifying.

It was staring right at where she was hiding.

Did he saw me? Did he saw me? Oh god. I'm dead. I'm dead.

Y/N slapped her hand over her mouth, tears streaming down her face as she tried to stifle her breathing, her whole body trembling uncontrollably. She squeezed her eyes shut, praying that he couldn’t see her, that he couldn’t hear the terrified gasps that escaped her despite her best efforts.

Don’t breathe. Don’t move. He can’t see you. He can’t see you.

But his eye… it was right there, inches from her, staring through the broken glass with a wild, unhinged intensity. His breathing was heavy, ragged, echoing in the small space as he scanned the room, looking for her. His hand reached through the broken window, the bloodied fingers scraping against the door, searching, clawing.

Y/N’s heart thundered in her chest, her pulse so loud she thought for sure he could hear it. Her entire body shook with fear, her breath coming in short, panicked gasps. She pressed her hand harder against her mouth, trying to muffle the sounds of her sobs.

Please don’t find me. Please, god, don’t find me.

For what felt like an eternity, Aegon stayed there, his face pressed against the door, his eye wide and frantic, his breath fogging up the glass. He didn’t say anything, didn’t scream or yell. He just… looked.

And then, just as suddenly as it had started, it stopped.

He pulled back, his bloodied hand retreating through the shattered window. His footsteps echoed through the apartment once again, slow and deliberate, growing fainter and fainter until they finally disappeared altogether.

He was gone.

Y/N stayed there, curled up in the bathtub, her body trembling violently, tears streaming down her face as she clutched Fluffy to her chest. She didn’t move. She didn’t speak. She didn’t even breathe properly, too scared to believe that it was really over.

When she was sure he was gone, she let out a strangled, shaky breath and crawled out of the tub, her legs weak and shaking. Fluffy stayed behind, still curled up in the tub, too scared to move.

Her fingers fumbled for her phone, but she had turned it off earlier. With shaking hands, she powered it on, and as soon as the screen flickered to life, she called the police.

But even as she pressed the phone to her ear, the sound of her own heartbeat drowned everything else out.

How about you? Did you like this part?

@ 𝒃𝒓𝒐𝒌𝒆𝒏𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒍 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒. 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒄𝒐𝒑𝒚, 𝒓𝒆𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒔𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒚 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌𝒔 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒐𝒓 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒘𝒆𝒃𝒔𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒔.

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targaryen-dynasty · 6 months ago

Text

THE GREATEST TEMPTATION.

Modern!Aemond Targaryen x cam girl!Reader

"Keeping your boyfriend waiting for too long is always a dangerous game, and when he finally has enough, he deems it most fitting to give your audience a real show."

WARNINGS: SEXUAL CONTENT-MDNI; p in v, semi public sex?, rough sex, manhandling, size kink, possessive and jealous Aemond, kinda submissive reader

WORDS: 2.6 K

NOTES: This is an older story, and although I have edited it, I didn't want to change too much from my older writing. I‘ll now work on new stuff with Maegor, Aegon and Cregan. The movie „cam“ was my inspiration for this!

❗️𝐚𝐝𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

“Come on, guys, stop it,” you say, your hands running over the curve of your hips. A short riding crop is clasped between the fingers of your right hand while the ones of your left hand pull the thin strap of your lace thong to let it snap back against your flesh, making a show for the audience as you squirm at the impact. “You know, if you don’t get to the cum show, I’m going to have to go off cam to do it without you, so…"

You kneel on your bed, sitting on your haunches with the ring light and camera positioned so only the parts from your neck down are visible for your viewers.

“And nobody wants that, right?” your words are accompanied by a feigned pout as you drag the tip of the riding crop from the valley between your breasts down to your navel, dragging it around it slowly. “But seriously, guys, I need it, so hurry up.”

It’s a ping! that alerts you of a received donation, and you clap your hands in excitement upon seeing the bright red $450 popping up on the screen.

“Ah, RoguePrince81, thank you so, so much,” you hum with a smile. “Alright, ten spanks for you.”

You turn around and position yourself closer to the camera to give them the perfect view of your ass, but before you’re able to start to deliver ten spanks to it, your boyfriend barges into the room.

Learning from past mistakes, the camera isn’t recording more than your bed, Aemond’s presence remaining unknown to the viewers. With your microphone not muted, you can’t do more than mouth a ‘five minutes’ to him still standing in the doorframe.

The pout on his lips is barely there, already gotten used to the way his girlfriend earns her money, though he doesn’t necessarily approve of it. Sighing quietly, he closes the door behind him and sits down in the chair at your desk across from the bed.

You barely watch him, focusing back on the audience. One slap after another is served to your ass, and you yet again make a show out of it by moaning, squirming and wiggling your ass.

“My butt’s gonna hurt tomorrow,” you whine. After the tenth slap, you rub your asscheeks, sighing an ‘and one for good luck.’ With the eleventh slap, you throw the crop aside.

Five minutes turn into fifteen, and with all your attention on the audience, you don't notice the set jaw and furious gaze of your boyfriend, a blaze of jealousy flickering in his eye. At least not until he stands up to approach you.

Being quick to mute the chat, you turn towards him, sitting on your haunches and looking up at him. A crease has formed between your brows, knowing that you have kept him waiting for too long.

It’s a fruitless attempt to calm him as you rub the palms of your hands over his thighs, squeezing them just slightly in the way you know he enjoys.

“I’m not here to waste my time watching you fuck around with other guys,” he remarks coldly.

The coldness of his voice makes a shiver run down your spine, a contrast to the heat growing between your legs. As your eyes meet his ice-like gaze, you swallow hard. “I know,” you reply, continuing to brush your hands up and down his thighs. “But you know I need to make money, Aem.”

He scoffs at your response. “You can make money in other ways,” he replies, his hands capturing your wrists tight enough to indicate his disapproval. “You don’t need to show off your body for strangers.”

Your heart is racing now, and you feel a flutter in your chest at his words. But you can’t deny that his possessive side only makes you want him more. “But this way is easy,” you shrug, trying to keep your tone light. “It’s quick and pays well… plus, I enjoy it, you know that.”

Aemond’s nostrils flare ever so slightly at your words, his jaw setting firmly. In one fluid motion, he pulls you up on your feet. He’s tall and strong, and his presence looms over yours. “I do,” he says. “But you’re mine, and I don’t share.”

Running your hands over his chest, you take a step closer and press yourself against him, and he uses the proximity to rest a hand at the back of your neck. “And I’ll only ever be yours.” You start to play with the buttons of his shirt. “But this is just a job, Aem. It doesn’t mean anything.”

His expression betrays no emotion as he regards you, but his grip on your neck tightens. “If this doesn’t mean anything, then this won’t bother you at all,” he states, using his grip to force you towards your desk. He pushes you over it, and with you having relocated all your stuff to film the bed, there’s not much left on it that topples onto the ground.

Your hands fly to the desk to steady yourself upon impact, a gasp leaving your lips. Your heart rate picks up, your blood thrumming with a mixture of arousal and a hint of fear. The sudden manhandling sends a thrill down your spine. “Aemond,” you breathe, your voice trembling slightly.

His breath is hot against your ear as he leans down, chest pressing against your back while his arms cage you in. It’s clear he’s the power right now, and it’s making you feel all the more vulnerable under his control. “What?” he asks, his voice soft yet commanding. “Do you want me to stop?”

With your body reacting to his husky voice, your hips press back against his. “No,” you answer softly, looking over your shoulder at him with wide eyes.

His lips curve into a smug smile. “Good, because I had no intentions of stopping anytime soon,” he replies. Prowling toward the dresser, he grabs the laptop. “This will be the best show they’ve ever seen.”

Several pings! echo off the device, the viewer’s comments filling the chat box with messages you’d die to read right now. Aemond has seen you set everything up plenty of times before, and he knows all too well where to put the laptop so that it doesn’t show anything else than the parts below your faces, and quickly unmutes the chat.

His outburst is nothing new, he’s confessed his jealousy often enough, but it’s the first time he willingly participates in one of your streams. It’s clear it’s his way to mark his territory, to claim you in front of everyone to show who you belong to, and his possessiveness does little to diminish the fire in your body, the ache between your legs only becoming more prominent.

His hard bulge presses against your ass as he approaches you again, shoving you against the sturdy desk with his hands gripping your hips. It catches you by surprise and you release a choked moan at it.

Nimble fingers hook under the thin straps of your thong, pulling it back enough the snaps against your skin have you wincing for real. “You’re even wearing my favorite lingerie, hm?” he taunts, large hands roaming over your asscheeks. “All this for some horny bastards and their dirty money?”

You shiver at his touch and the dominance in his deep voice, too zoned out to give him an answer. His impatience runs thin with how quickly he serves a slap to your ass, palm landing exactly where you have hit yourself before. The pain is sharper, stinging, and causing tears to brim in your eyes. “Don’t make me repeat myself.”

“Gods, well…” you whimper. “I… I have to make my viewers happy.”

“Is that the only thing you care about?” he challenges. “Making them happy? What about making your boyfriend happy, mh?”

Licking your lips, you look at him from over your shoulder again. “You know you’re the only one I care about,” you breathe out. “Only you.”

Aemond’s hand smooths down your back, his touch gentle but firm. “Do they know you belong to me?” he asks, a hint of possessiveness in his tone. “Nah, fuck this, go on and tell them now.”

“They… they know I have a boyfriend,” you admit.

But it’s a sharp slap served to your ass that makes your head snap towards the laptop quickly, taking in a shaky breath before you address whoever’s behind the screen. You merely know them by their usernames, RoguePrince81, MrSunfyre, thereal_heir and so on. “I… I belong to my boyfriend,” you say, your voice clear yet laced with a tremble that betrays your submission to him. “And only him.”

Aemond’s hand runs over your asscheek in response, soothing the stinging pain. “That’s right,” he purrs, the possessive tone evident in his voice. “You’re mine, and I don’t like sharing.”

“All yours,” you whisper, though there doesn’t come a reply from him. You merely hear shuffling coming from behind you, and judging by the haste of the sounds, it’s clear he’s desperate and impatient. Aemond enjoys teasing, and maybe even punishing you, but there always comes the point where he can’t take it anymore himself.

It’s the elongated groan of him that has you pushing your hips back, growing just as impatient and desperate, and it’s the cue for him to tug the lace of your thong aside, easing two of his fingers inside of you. You moan wantonly at that, yet the stimulation doesn’t last long enough for you to truly enjoy it, fingers withdrawing almost immediately after the intrusion.

With his fingers coated in your arousal, he smears it over the tip of his cock and therefore mixes it with the few beads of precum. His hand glides up and down his cock with ease, before he eventually aligns the tip with your entrance. Sheathing himself inside of you slowly, allowing you to feel every ridge and vein of him, you quickly rise on your tiptoes to adapt to his height and make accommodating his size easier, although you’re all but used to it by now.

A renewed wave of your arousal drips down your thighs at his intrusion, allowing him to slide into you with little to no resistance. As you both moan in unison, yours is slightly muffled by your teeth sinking into your bottom lip, reveling in the slight burn that accompanies the pleasure.

Aemond seizes a fistful of your hair, pulling you back as his hips thrust into you harshly once as a clear warning. Brushing your sweet spot so expertly, you arch your back like a cat, pushing back against him with another muffled moan making its way past your lips.

“Oh, don’t act all shy now,” he coos, his other hand finding its way to the back of your neck. “Let them know how good I’m making you feel.”

His words make you nod meekly, and he takes it as a silent invitation to move, the pace starting slow but becoming much more intense in a matter of seconds until he’s recklessly driving his hips into yours. Aemond is always fairly rough with you, but the jealousy and possessiveness do make it even better.

A breathless gasp falls from your lips in an attempt to catch your breath through his ruthless pounding, and your fists clench around the edge of the desk again, bracing yourself for the way his cock bullies your sweet spot and drives your whole body back and forth.

“Gods, please… use me,” you whine, eyes squeezing shut as you are overwhelmed by the different sensations overcoming your body.

“Fuck,” he groans. “You like that? You like being used by me while those miserable bastards watch you getting split open by my cock, hm?” His words are punctuated by several harsh thrusts, knocking the air out of your lungs and causing his balls to slap against your sensitive clit, sending shivers down your legs.

His thighs are heavy as they press into your frame, applying pressure to where your hips meet the edge of the desk. While it hurts, you barely have time to focus on the pain, overwhelmed by the soaring pleasure inside of you. The building tension inside of you spreads through your core, your walls fluttering as furiously as Aemond’s relentless onslaught on your cunt.

“Don’t stop,” you whimper.

“Or what?” he taunts. “You’re gonna come for me already?”

Despite him mocking your despair, he pulls your hips back a little and brings his hand down between your legs, dragging his nimble fingers over your clit to give you the last blow that’s meant to push you over the precipice. Every attempt to give him an answer dies in your throat at the sudden burst of pleasure, your mind hazy and your eyes glossy.

Parting his legs and slightly bending them at the knees, he curls his hips in a manner that all but forces his cock into you at an angle that has stars dancing across your vision, prolonging the intense orgasm that ripples through your core. The tension you hold in your legs from the position causes them to shake uncontrollably, making your body rely on the firm grip of his hand now resting at your hip.

His own orgasm nears with how forcefully you clench around and convulse all over him, his pace more erratic as he leans down to press his chest flush against your back, pinning you to the desk and planting a searing kiss to the crook of your neck. His thrusts grow sloppier thanks to the position, but that doesn’t mean they don’t fill you deeply enough anymore.

Bringing his hand from your hair to the wall in front of the desk, the veins in his hand and arms bulge from the exertion. “That’s it,” he rasps into the crook of your neck. “Be a good girl for me and take everything I give you.”

“Hm-Hm… yes,” you whimper, pushing back against him. Your body is pressed flatly against the wooden surface of the desk, his weight on top of you not allowing you to take any deep breath – yet the throbbing of his cock inside of you definitely makes up for it.

A strained groan announces his orgasm, muffled by his lips pressed against your skin. A relieved moan leaves your lips as soon as his twitching cock spends itself inside of your still spasming walls. He keeps thrusting into you, though his thrusts become gentler and even slower than before due to his stamina decreasing, eventually stopping.

It’s unlike Aemond to pull out of you so shortly after, and you wince at the sudden loss, your assaulted core clenching around nothing to adjust to the emptiness. Turning your head to look at him, sweaty and heated cheek pressed to the cold desk, you can’t hide the blissed out expression that’s written all over your face. Aemond prowls towards the set up, picking up the laptop with the camera filming nothing but his chest, still heaving with ragged breaths.

“Now, did you like that?” he asks as he walks back to you again, obviously speaking to the part of your audience that stayed for the show. “Then you’ll definitely love this.”

Bending forward slightly, he points the camera to your cunt, blessing the viewers with the sight of his seed slowly oozing out of your cunt, running down your folds and quivering thighs. You stay still, too focused on the multiple pings! that bounce off the device, indicating that your little show has earned you a big deal of money.

“Is this the kind of cum show you expected, hm? I bet the fuck not.”

He then abruptly shuts the laptop with a thud, carelessly throwing it onto your bed.

You push yourself back, standing on wobbly feet as you adjust your thong, holding onto the desk. You turn your head to look at him, the smirk on your lips matching the wicked one on his. “You know you’re gonna be a regular now,” you tease.

“And I thought you’d never ask.”

909 notes · View notes

sapphire-writes · 1 year ago

Text

Pretty Little Thing

summary: After finding yourself at a holiday party you hadn't wanted to attend in the first place, Aemond Targaryen makes it worth while.

pairing: modern!Aemond x Reader

warnings: 18+/NSFW/MDNI - smut, oral fem receiving, fingering, spanking, praise, slight dirty talk, overstim, kissing, love bites, hand over mouth, titty play, allusions to Aegon being a creeper, alcohol, smoking, langauge

word count: 7.2k

note: im back! grad school didn't kill me! hope you enjoy!

link to other stories from me!

To be notified when I post something new, be sure to follow @sapphire-writes-updates & turn notifications on 💙

—

Be there soon.

Alysanne had texted you nearly an hour ago, and with each passing minute you became more doubtful she’d be making an appearance at all.

You hadn’t even wanted to come. It’d been her idea and now she was blowing you off.

“We’re just exchanging the last of our things,” she’d promised on the phone several hours earlier, “You go on without me and I’ll meet you there.”

Yeah. Because it takes three hours to give your ex-boyfriend his stuff back. Totally.

Alysanne and Cregan Stark had been on and off again since you’d known her; this time was no exception. You knew from her first running later than I thought text that the night wasn’t going to go as you’d hoped.

You decide to like her most recent message instead of replying, unable to stop the wave of annoyance cresting inside of you.

You hadn’t even wanted to come.

An end-of-semester holiday party. Thrown by the elder Lannister siblings; twins Jason and Tyland. The kings of Casterly Rock are well known for their extravagant get-togethers and the unimaginable generational wealth that funds all their exploits.

They’d long graduated from King’s Landing University, but you and Alysanne scored an invite courtesy of Cerelle Lannister, their younger sister, whom you’d been trying to avoid since you arrived. If Cerelle didn’t see you, perhaps you could escape the party unscathed.

That hope proves too good to be true as your name is called from across the room. You slide your phone back into your pocket as Cerelle approaches you. Her blonde hair hangs in effortless curls down her back, the emerald green top she wears accentuating its golden hues, along with her bright green eyes.

You’re not exactly close with Cerelle, though she appears to enjoy your friendship, at least on a surface level. She’s part of the weekly book club you attend. Her grin widens as she reaches you, eyes drinking you in.

“Darling!” she muses, pressing a kiss against your cheek.

“You wore it!” she says, fingers ghosting across the cashmere cardigan you’d chosen to wear that evening. Cerelle had bought it for you a few weeks ago, though you’d begged her not to; the price was more than you made in a paycheck.

Alysanne once referred to you as Cerelle’s Polly Pocket.

“She pulls you out of her pocket and plays dress up. It’s fucking weird,” she’d said.

Cerelle’s lips curve upwards in a Cheshire cat grin as she slings an arm around your shoulder, bringing her glossed lips next to your ear.

“Stop moping in the corner like some dreary wallflower,” she purrs, brushing some hair behind your ear, “Have some fun! It’s winter break!”

Goosebumps break out on your skin at her affections. You laugh breathlessly shrugging away from her touch causing her to frown.

“You haven’t had enough to drink,” she insists, reaching for another glass, “You’re much too antsy.”

“Alysanne was supposed to be here,” you tell her and she nods understanding, looping her arm through yours and giving your forearm a comforting pat.

“Fashionably late as always, I suppose,” Cerelle drolls, pointing across the room, “There are lots of fascinating characters here who’ll distract you. Shall I spin a bottle to decide?”

“Hilarious,” you tell her, shaking your head.

“I never joke about a good shag,” Cerelle argues, gaze flickering about the room, “From the looks of it you could use it.” She turns back to you, matching your pout. “Don’t frown, you look too lovely.” She places her hands on your cheeks, thumbs tugging the corner of your lips upwards.

“Much better,” she praises as you hold the smile she’s decorated your face with, “Come on let's find you someone…don’t look at me like that! Someone to flirt with, that’s all. A bit of harmless fun.”

You roll your eyes earning a pitch on the arm and you swat Cerelle’s hand away.

“There’s no one here I want to flirt with,” you insist, following her gaze around the room, “Let alone shag.”

“You’re too picky,” she muses, tapping a manicured nail against her chin as she scans the room, “What about Greyjoy?”

A shiver rolls through you, “No thank you.”

“Heard he’s good in the sack.”

You’d heard a lot of things about Dalton Greyjoy. None of which made you want to spend an extended period of alone time with him. You glance at Cerelle giving her a firm look. She sighs, returning to her mission.

“You need someone,” Cerelle insists after you shoot down several more options, “You haven’t been with anyone since—what was it again?”

His face flashes through your mind before you can help it.

“Unimportant,” you quip, “Cerelle, I just want to—” Your words die as two new guests bound up the stairs into the main hallway.

Suddenly, it’s as if all the air has been sucked from the room, your heartbeat echoing in your ears the only sound you can hear. You tug Cerelle closer, eyes wide.

“You invited them?” you hiss, as Cerelle frowns, following your gaze.

“Not me. Jason must have,” she answers, “It’s not a party without Aegon. Jay swears he has the best coke on this side of the Keep.”

Aegon Targaryen is relatively harmless as long as you keep your drink close. You’re more concerned with the tall figure who lurks closely behind him. Though the younger, Aemond Targaryen towers over his brother; his presence makes the room feel smaller, colder than it was moments ago. He’s dressed in all black, as he usually is, the silver chain around his neck the only other color. His long snow-white hair is braided down his back, an eyepatch securely covering his left eye.

He never takes it off.

Aegon pushes by his brother making a beeline for the kitchen where most of the chaos is localized. You can tell a new drinking game has begun by the sound of cheers and the echo of glasses clinking together. Aegon’s eyes lit up as he disappeared down the hall, eager to join the miscellaneous fun.

Aegon loves a good party.

Aemond watches his brother but lingers behind in the living room leaning against a wall. He extends a long arm to the bookshelf retrieving one with his long fingers. He flicks open a few pages, lips pursing. He glances up, violet eye meeting yours for the briefest moment.

Your lips part and you look away, warmth flooding your cheeks. You had shared a couple of classes with Aemond, nothing more nothing less. He was quite mysterious.

“Anyway,” Cerelle says, her attention wavering with each passing second, “Back to you drinking. I’ll get you another glass. Loosen up, pet.”

—

You try to, you really do. No matter what her intentions are, Cerelle has been nothing but nice to you, so you allow her antics. An hour has ticked by and Alysanne has yet to respond to your latest text message. Squeezed between Cerelle and Sabitha Frey during another round of quarters you decide to plan your escape.

“I’m going to get some air,” you tell her, rising from the couch. Cerelle rolls her eyes, “I’m not leaving, I swear!”

“You better not!” she says, perfectly sculpted eyebrows knitting together, “I’ll come to fetch you if you’re gone too long—you know I will.”

She’s telling the truth.

“Five minutes,” you insist, forcing a smile.

Cerelle’s nose twitches but she lets it go and nods, returning her attention to the game.

Weaving through the sea of people you make your way outside letting the door shut behind you as you walk down a few steps of the front stoop. It’s colder than you expected, you can see your breath in front of you.

You stand shivering, trying to decide what to do next. Reaching into your pocket, you check your phone for the time. You could leave, make your escape down the steps, and catch the last bus back to Maegor’s Holdfast.

If you stay any longer, you’ll be forced to spend the night or dip into your savings to splurge on an Uber. It’s always crazy expensive on this side of town as if the drivers know the neighborhood is full of rich kids.

The door opens and noise from the party fills the cool night until it slams shut once more. You roll your eyes expecting Cerelle as you turn your head.

Only it isn’t her.

Aemond Targaryen lingers on the top step, reaching into his jacket pocket and placing a cigarette between his teeth. He finds a lighter a moment later, a nice expensive one, flicking it open with a sharp click. Fire blooms in the palm of his hand and you can just make out the three-headed dragon branded on the side of the silver lighter before it disappears into his pocket again.

He releases a cloud of smoke into the air, mimicking the one your breath makes. You turn away as he walks down a few steps, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye.

“You were in my class,” he says suddenly, his head tilting to the side, “History of The First Men, right?”

You force your lips together. “Mhmm,” you answer, surprised he recognized you.

Aemond Targaryen didn’t seem the type to remember a random girl in his class. Smart as hells, he focused solely on his grades, paying little attention to the rest of the student body. He seemed to be the antithesis of his elder brother. Though incredibly different, supposedly they had similar lustful appetites.

One for pleasures of the flesh, the other for academic validation.

Aegon Targaryen was a known party boy and ran in multiple social circles. He didn’t care about class or popularity; if there was sex, liquor, and drugs around, Aegon Targaryen would be there.

However, there were stories about Aemond too that made their way around campus.

“You alright?” he pressed, the silence laying heavy between you.

“I shouldn’t even be talking to you right now,” you breathe, chuckling slightly as you rub your arms as the frigid air bites into your exposed flesh.

Aemond quirks a brow at that, taking another drag of his cigarette. “Why’s that?”

“You’re sort of a banned topic at book club,” you admit, causing his lips to curl into a small smirk.

“Am I?”

“Mhmm.”

Another moment of silence goes by before his curiosity gets the better of him. “Because?”

“Maris runs it,” you tell him, and he clicks his tongue, nodding to himself before taking another drag of his cigarette.

Maris Baratheon, the elder of a pair of Irish twins. Floris Baratheon, once the object of Aemond’s affection for about a half second, was royally screwed over when he left her for none other than Alys Rivers. Adjunct Professor. It was quite the scandal at the time.

You’re not exactly friends with Floris; closer to Maris if you had to choose. But it's the principle of things—girl code.

“Floris and I were never exclusive,” Aemond comments.

“Yikes.”

So maybe Aemond Targaryen is just like every other guy. Though, you’re mostly sure he’s telling the truth. The story you’d heard was that he ghosted her.

“She shouldn’t have assumed,” he continues, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly.

You roll your eyes, blood boiling at his statement as annoyance begins to quicken in your belly. Aemond Targaryen seems more like his elder with every word that leaves his curved lips.

“Right, of course not, how dare she,” is your sarcastic reply.

Aemond tilts his head toward the sky, speaking around the cigarette.

“You seem rather upset,” he accuses, “Funny, Floris never mentioned you.”

You turn to face him fully and he glances at you out of the corner of his eye. Folding your arms across your chest you jut your hip out. “We’re not friends. It’s the principle of it all. I don’t like assholes.”

His perfect lips curl slightly. “I’m an asshole?”

“Mhmm. At least Aegon owns up to his behavior, he doesn’t pretend he’s some suave guy doing nothing wrong.”

You swear a smile tugs at the corner of his lips as he plucks the cigarette from between them.

“Is that what I’m doing?”

“Sure seems like it.”

Aemond takes a step closer then. You have to tilt your head to look him in the eye. Something about being this close to him is almost unnerving, your stomach drops slightly as you focus on his prominent cheekbones.

“It’s not my problem if a girl gets her hopes up after getting fucked properly,” he counters.

Your breath hitches in your throat and you back up, slightly slipping against the icy railing. Aemond reaches out, his hand curling around your bicep to steady you. It’s warm, almost hot; the heat seeps through your thin sweater in the shape of his fingers.

There’s a tension between you as he holds your arm for a second too long, before the door opens and several partygoers stumble down the steps, forcing you to break apart. Aemond takes another drag of his cigarette from across the stairs as they laugh tumbling into the street. You’re grateful for the distraction, taking a moment to slow the frantic beating of your heart, and the slight flutter in your stomach.

“So,” you begin, trying to break the awkward silence the partygoers left behind with their departure, “How do you know Cerelle?”

Aemond looks at you quizzically.

“How do I know Cerelle?”

You jerk your chin up in a hasty nod. Aemond chuckles, shaking his head and taking another drag.

“Family friend,” he answers, “Old money likes to stick together.”

You nod again, unsure of how to answer as he observes you.

“Surely you’ve heard of the Westerosi Seven?” he asks.

You haven’t.

“The what?”

“The seven families,” Aemond says, his tone indicating that this is somewhat common knowledge, “Generational wealth that can be traced back to medieval times. The higher lords and ladies. Near royalty.” He takes another drag.

“And you’re one of them?” you ask, crossing your arms.

“My family, yes,” he answers, “And Cerelle’s. The Baratheon girls. Stark. They’re all quite close.”

“Interesting,” you tell him, glancing down the street again, “You sound like the mafia.”

Aemond holds your gaze, not denying your allegation. You release a breathless laugh, but unease settles in your gut.

The door opens as if on cue, and Cerelle pops her head out.

“Darling! Come back inside you’ll catch your death,” she calls, waving you forward. She spots Aemond out of the corner of her eye, and you don’t miss the look of interest that gathers in her green eyes as they flicker between the pair of you, “Targaryen.”

“CeCe,” he politely greets, choosing to use the nickname Cerelle often kept reserved for her family only. She doesn’t comment on Aemond’s choice.

“Hope you’re being nice to my girl,” she says, the words clipped.

“Of course,” Aemond comments and you can’t help but feel like you aren’t there.

Cerelle glances back at you, a smile decorating her face once more.

“Come on, pet! In the kitchen.”

Her blonde hair disappears in the door. Aemond walks down the remainder of the steps tossing his cigarette to the ground and stomping it beneath his heel.

“Best run along,” he muses, not turning to face you, “She doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

Annoyance prickles under your skin.

“She’s my friend—”

“You have got a very generous friend,” Aemond comments, turning to face you. He motions at your sweater. “Myrish, isn’t it?”

You cross your hands over your chest.

“Mhmm,” Aemond hums glancing up at you from the bottom step, “I’d just be careful if I were you. Accepting gifts from rich strangers is a lot like Persephone eating the pomegranate seeds.”

You scoff at the implication before turning away and heading back into the townhouse. Aemond does not follow; you don’t hear the door open as you hurry back up the stairs.

The party has since moved completely to the kitchen, sans a couple making out on the living room couch. You enter the crowded space and crane your neck to see what everyone is cheering at.

It’s something happening on the marble island, but you don’t see what—that is until Cerelle sits up, her blonde curls cascading around her face, a lime between her pearly white teeth like a cat with a mouse.

She smiles curling her finger, beckoning Aegon Targaryen forward. He leans against her, bringing his mouth to hers and stealing the lime. The juice flows down his chin before he lets it fall, pressing a sloppy kiss to Cerelle’s lips, earning several cheers.

As she breaks away she notices you, eyes lighting up as she slips off the counter.

“Good, you didn’t leave!” she says giggling, “It’s your turn.”

“My turn?” you ask, heart dropping into your stomach.

“Mhmm,” she says, dragging you forward, “Up now!”

“Cerelle, I don’t—”

“Hush! Qyle Martell is doing it,” she says biting her lip suggestively, “Let the sexy Dornishman take a shot off you, alright?”

Your cheeks darken as he appears before you, arms wrapping around your waist and lifting you onto the counter like a lamb for slaughter. The crowd cheers and your eyes widen as you meet Qyle’s warm brown eyes.

“Your sweater,” he says, motioning to it with his hand that clutches a bottle of tequila.

You glance at Cerelle and she nods encouragingly. Over her head and in the doorway you spot Aemond. He didn’t leave after all. Instead, he leans against the doorframe, observing the chaos with a curled lip, as if the entire thing is beneath him.

Qyle whistles, drawing your attention back to him. He motions to your sweater yet again.

“Oh,” you tell him, moving to unbutton it.

Thank goodness you wore a tank top underneath. Your fingers slip with nerves as you struggle to unbutton it. You’re the center of attention, peers cheering and chanting around you as you struggle with the bottoms.

Quite the sacrificial lamb you are.

“Here, can I help?” Qyle asks, reaching toward you, his fingers bumping against your own. The bottle of tequila sloshes.

“No—no I’ve got it—oh!”

You’d moved wrong, done something wrong—or perhaps someone pushed him you’re not sure. Your head is buzzing with the noise of the room and suddenly the front of your sweater is doused in tequila. Qyle’s eyes are wide as Cerelle pushes him to the side as the smell of alcohol fills your nose.

The room quiets momentarily until Cerelle’s bell-like laugh pierces through the silence.

“Qyle you idiot,” Cerelle sneers, nose wrinkling with playful distaste, “You’re supposed to wait till she’s laying down—”

“It was an accident!”

“—and her sweater!” Cerelle growls in annoyance, “Go upstairs, pet, my room. Pick anything you like.”

You slide off of the counter, hurrying from the room, leaving the sound of music and chanting behind as you move deeper into the labyrinth of the Lannister home.

—

Cerelle’s room lacks color and warmth.

You’d spent the night once here before, crawling into the white feather bed after too much mulled wine. Cerelle had stroked your hair until you’d fallen asleep, only to awake the next morning with a severe headache and a churning belly.

Popping the rest of the buttons, you peel the soaked sweater from your body and throw it in the hamper. You then walk over to Cerelle’s closet—double doors—and open it. Expensive. Perfumed. You’ve already ruined one pretty thing. Though Cerelle could hardly care about the expense, you do. You sigh, gently pushing through the soft fabric.

“Playing dress up?” a voice calls, and you turn to Aemond at the door.

You close the closet door. You’ll just have to survive in your thin top. Aemond holds a glass of whiskey between his long fingers.

“Well, I suppose that was a given,” you answer him, sitting down on the bed.

Aemond watches you from the doorway, his arm raised above his head, fingers tapping nonsensically against the frame.

“D’you want to see how you’re supposed to do it?” he suddenly asks.

“Do what?” you question, tilting your head to the side.

“What Qyle was going to do,” he answers, and you understand his meaning.

Aemond walks over to you, the ice rattling against the glass he lazily grips between his fingers, coming to stand in front of your legs. You’re not sure why he’s asking, what interest he has in you. But something in your belly tightens the closer he gets.

“Alright,” you give him a quiet answer, the word barely slipping past your lips.

Aemond purses his lips, glancing down at your legs.

“Spread them,” he says softly, motioning with the cup. Warmth creeps up the back of your neck and blooms on the apples of your cheeks. You lock eyes with him, focusing on the ring of violet that surrounds his pupil. You do as you’re told, knees parting; his gaze hypnotizing. “Wider.”

Your skirt tightens against your thighs as you do so, but you spread your legs wide enough for him to stand between them. He takes a step forward and you’re forced to look up at him.

“Lean back,” he instructs. You’re beginning to notice how easily he slips into the domineering role. Again you follow his instructions, cheeks burning as you lean back, propping yourself on your elbows.

You’re much more exposed without your sweater, the tops of your breasts visible in the thin top you wear. Aemond steps closer, looming over you, heat radiating from his tall form.

He reaches out, fingers caressing your cheek. You hope he can’t feel how warm they’ve become, feel your pulse fluttering against his fingers as they trail underneath your jaw and down your neck until they reach your collarbone.

“You’re to put salt here,” he murmurs, pressing against the dip of your collarbone for emphasis, “That’s first.” He leans down then, fingers trailing over your shoulder and down your arm leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. “Though we’re without.”

You swallow as his fingers continue to trace your collarbone. His violet eye watches you carefully before he pulls his hand away. He brings them lower, ghosting down your ribs until they reach your waist.

“May I?” he asks, fingers at the hem of your shirt. You give him a wordless nod, not able to trust your voice. Aemond pushes the fabric up slightly, revealing your navel. He holds the glass above your stomach; a drop of condensation falls causing you to flinch at the cool sensation.

Aemond flicks a brow at the constriction of your abdomen, “You’re quite sensitive.”

“It’s cold.”

“Mhmm,” he agrees, turning the glass so more condensation falls; little raindrops begin to adorn your skin, “The liquor goes here.” His fingers ruin the pattern he’s created, rough fingertips swirling the dew drops around your navel, “Tequila.”

“We haven’t got any,” you breathlessly tell him, his touch leaving a scorched trail across your belly.

Aemond brings his glass closer, pressing the edge against the beginning of your belly button, letting some whiskey pool there. Your hands clenched into fists as the cold liquid fills you up; you watch as it shakes slightly, overflowing. Aemond leans forward, catching the spill with his mouth causing a gasp that sounds more like a moan to leave your mouth. His mouth covers your navel and you can feel his tongue swirl around, collecting the liquid he poured there with hot, calculated strokes.

His violet eye peers up at you from behind silver lashes, half-lidded as he hollows his cheeks sucking harshly. He reaches toward the side table, mouth never leaving you, to place his glass on the edge freeing his hand. You can feel his tongue circling your navel, gently probing the sensitive skin. You can’t help the giggle that escapes you at the ticklish sensation. Aemond presses his hands against your obliques before releasing you with a pop, his chin and lips shining.

“That’s how it's supposed to be,” he murmurs, not moving from the spot between your legs. Some of his silver hair has fallen across his brow, and on instinct you reach forward, brushing it from his eyes.

“There’s one more part,” you tell him, fingers grazing the beginning of the scar that mares his left brow before disappearing behind the patch.

“What’s that?” he asks, his gaze revealing he knows the answer.

He just wants to hear you say it, you realize.

Your lips part, fingers still somewhat tangled in his hair; the strands soft as silk between your fingers.

“There was a lime,” you tell him, “The person….holds it in their mouth.”

Aemond pushes up then, his hands sliding up your sides until they’re pressed into the bed on either side of you, his face inches from your own.

“Have you got a lime on you?” he asks, his breath warm on your face, the scent of whiskey strong between you.

“No,” you murmur, not knowing where to look. He’s so close you can see the flecks of blue and gold in the lilac iris of his eye, count his silver lashes, and notice the small indentation on the tip of his prominent nose.

He hums again, his eye dropping to your lips.

“Pity,” he says, lips down turning into a pout.

Your heart is nearly beating out of your chest with the way it's pounding incessantly against your ribcage. He’s so close your chests are practically touching; your nipples straining against the fabric of your top. His chain peeks out from under the collar of his shirt and your resolve crumbles. Your eyes flicker to his lips, tongue darting out to wet your own and he leans forward, capturing your lips in a heated kiss.

Your hands wrap around his neck as he kisses you; his lips so soft and firm against your own, skilled tongue parting them with ease to deepen the kiss. A moan doesn’t make it out of your throat as his hand cradles your jaw, the sound of soft kisses is the only thing you can hear besides the muffled hum of the music playing downstairs.

Aemond pulls away then, the look is his eye ravenous as he lowers himself between your legs once more. For a minute you think he may grab his glass and do the party trick all over again, the kiss just a spur-of-the-moment thing. Instead, he pushes your skirt up, fingers digging into the flesh of your inner thighs. You realize a moment too late what he’s doing.

Riiiip!

“Aemond!” you squeak, as he rips the seam of your tights, “These were a new pair!”

“I can buy you another,” he says, pressing a kiss against the smooth newly exposed flesh, “Or perhaps CeCe can. You’re her favorite plaything, aren’t you?”

Your cheeks burn at the statement, your mouth pressing together in a tight line. Aemond grins, nimble fingers undoing the zipper of your skirt and wiggling it down your legs along with your ruined tights.

“Oh she doesn’t like that,” he says, clicking his tongue, “But it’s true, isn’t it?” His hands are roaming higher now, grazing against your clothed center. You’re certain he feels the evidence of your arousal but he stays quiet about it. “That’s what you are, aren’t you? A pretty little plaything.”

“Fuck you,” you hiss, humiliation seeping into your veins, though it does little to quell the desire pooling in your belly.

“No shame in that,” he says, shaking his head, “I understand Cerelle, entirely.” His fingers tug your panties down your bare legs, exposing your wet center. Aemond’s eye locks on it, lips quirking upward. “I like pretty things as well.”

“So I’ve heard,” you quip as Aemond’s second-hand joins the first. He swirls a finger low against your entrance and you clench as he drags it upwards.

“Have you?” he muses, circling your clit with minimal pressure, “And what have you heard?”

“That you’re as insatiable as your brother,” you manage to choke out as his thumb continues to tease your clit, “You just hide it better.”

Aemond cocks his head to the side in silent agreement before pressing his face against you. A sharp cry leaves your lips as his tongue explores from your entrance up to your clit, the tip circling the sensitive button.

Eyes rolling back in your head, Aemond nuzzles his face against you, tongue slipping down and pressing into your clenching hole. He hums in approval as you make another desperate noise as his tongue curves upwards inside of you.

Seven hells, how is anyone’s tongue long enough to do what Aemond’s is doing? Your toes curl as his tongue hooks upwards against the front of your pelvic bone, thrusting against the sensitive patch of nerves that resides there.

“Oh gods—fuck—fuck!” you cry as he continues the repetitive movement of his tongue, waves of pleasure lapping up your spine, sending shivers through your whole body. “Hells Aemond…”

His nose presses against your slippery clit, rubbing against it in a way that stokes the pleasurable fire burning in your belly. His hands hold your thighs open and you throw your head back against the bed as the pressure inside you builds and builds and builds. Your back arches and your thighs tremble in his bruising grasp.

You lean up on your forearms to watch him, his violet eye intently watching your face, studying your reaction. You can tell he’s smug at the effect he’s having on you. He would often get that same look in his eye in class after he proved someone wrong or made a more intelligent point. How you must look to him now; all spread out before him, flushed and slack-jawed, dewy-eyed and pretty.

You’re a pretty toy to play with. Just want he wanted.

His tongue leaves your fluttering pussy and you whine at the loss of contact. He mumbles something that sounds an awful lot like needy before two fingers sink inside your warmth to replace what he took away.

Aemond’s tongue returns to its place around your clit as his fingers curve upwards replaying the motion from before. The stimulation now is much harsher, the pads of his fingers dragging effortlessly against your spongy walls, curling with brutal intention; relentlessly pressing against the swelling spot inside of you.

His warm, wet tongue against your clit only hastens the tightly winding ball of pleasure in your gut and you feel your walls swelling around his fingers as your release knocks the wind out of you.

You come with a strangled cry, hands gripping the bed sheets as your abdominal muscles contract to the point of pain, all your muscles going taut as warm waves of euphoria rush through you.

Aemond releases a choked chuckle of appreciation as he feels you tighten around his fingers. He fucks you through it, stretching out the wave of your orgasm until your legs are trembling and the overstimulation causes you to hiss at him.

“Stop, stop, please.”

“Alright…shhh,” he says, pressing a kiss to the top of your mound and gently pulling his fingers from your fluttering walls, “There you go, that’s a good girl. You did so well for me.”

You can’t help but warm at his praise, the ringing in your ears fading as your chest swells. Aemond is on you once more, lips pressed to yours the mingled taste of whiskey and you hot on his tongue.

“Are you going to let me fuck you?” he murmurs between sticky kisses, “Hmm?”

“Aemond…” you breathe into his mouth, hoping that is enough for him.

You can feel him smirk against your lips and know instantly it's not. He tuts disapprovingly, pushing you back against the mattress, his face dipping into the crook of your neck.

“What would Floris say?” he teases, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to your neck. Your hands wind around his neck, fingers digging into his scalp. His braid is all but ruined. “I thought you said something earlier,” he continues, nipping and sucking at different spots on your neck, humming with pleasure when he locates a spot that has your back arching.

“I don’t—”

“Loyalty, I recall,” he purrs, his hand snaking down your side, gripping the meat of your thigh and hoisting it around his waist, “Something like that.”

“Aemond,” you whimper helplessly as he grinds against you, the feeling of his hard cock concealed by his trousers driving you close to madness, “Aemond please.”

“You’re going to have to say it,” he insists, kissing your cheek, “Come on, say it.”

“I want you to fuck me,” you tell him, “Please Aemond—gods.”

“They can’t hear you,” he taunts, capturing your lips in a bruising kiss, “You’re all mine.”

You frantically nod, nose bumping against his as his lips curl into a greedy smile. He removes his shirt with one hand before he rolls off of you and onto his back, motioning to you with his hands.

“Go on then,” he says, “Take what you want.”

With shaky hands, you undo his belt above the sizable tent in his pants before dragging the zipper down and releasing his cock. He’s bigger than you expected, both in length and girth, the reddened tip already weeping in anticipation. You stroke his velvety shaft once before he grabs your wrist, pulling you toward him.

His hands pull your shirt from your body as you straddle him, his cock nudging at your folds. Aemond’s hands slide up your back, undoing your bra and freeing your breasts.

“You’re gorgeous,” he murmurs, hands cupping the sizable mounds, “Gods, you’re so lovely.”

Your face burns at his praise as you raise your hips before gripping him in your hand and guiding him inside of you; gently letting yourself slide down his length, inner walls fluttering around him at the new sensation. Shuddering on top of him you whine at the stretch. “Gods—”

“You can take it,” he murmurs, squeezing you softly in encouragement, “Come on baby, that’s it, just like that.”

Slowly you let him bottom out in your warmth, happily seated on his cock feeling incredibly full. You brace your hands on his chest as he pinches both of your nipples, your jaw slacking in response. Aemond lifts his hips slightly, gauging your reaction as your eyes screw shut.

“That feel good?” he asks, his voice a rough whisper.

“Yes,” you breathe, slowly starting to ride him, hips lifting and returning to his with a soft smack.

“There she goes,” he murmurs, hands dropping to your hips, squeezing, “Take what you need, gevie.”

A breathless moan escapes you as you ride him, his hands guiding you through the movements. The hum from the music downstairs matches the ringing in your ears.

Aemond drops his hand from your waist bringing it to the apex of your thighs. His lips part as he watches you rise and fall on his cock, his length coated with your arousal.

“That’s it,” he coos, his tone bordering on one of condensation, “Just like that—there’s a good girl.” His thumb brushes against your clit as he says it, a broken moan leaving your lips as pleasure ignites your veins.

His movements are soft, tantalizing, and brutally calculated as he circles the sensitive button; his other hand clings to your waist, hard enough to bruise. Surely they’ll be memories of his touch when you wake; dark purple petals blossoming on your soft flesh at first light. He guides your movements as they become sloppier the closer you get to your release.

It sends tingles up your spine, your chest and neck growing warmth as you edge closer to the precipice of pleasure.

No other man has made you finish before.

“Are you close?” Aemond murmurs, never stopping his attention to your clit, the subtle movement of his hips thrusting up into you, “I know you are—can feel you clenching around me.”

Your head falls back, mind foggy as you desperately grind against him, trying to ignore the burn in your hamstrings. Aemond’s hand leaves your hip crashing down against your ass with a loud smack. You yelp in surprise, head jerking forward, nails clawing into the hardened muscles of his chest. Aemond’s hand remains where he’d spanked you, fingers curling into the meat of your ass as he releases a breathless laugh; his eye flickers to where your nails dig against his pale flesh, leaving a trail of red behind as they scrape down his chest.

“Answer me,” he demands, and you quickly nod earning another stinging slap, “With your words gevie. Use those pretty lips.”

“Yes,” you practically gasp, “Yes, Aemond I’m close—”

“And you want to cum, don’t you?” he murmurs, lips curling into a smirk, “Do you want me to make you cum?”

“Yes, Aemond please—” the sentence dies with a moan as he plants both feet on the mattress, bucking his hips up against yours at an inhumane pace. Your eyes screw shut, mouth hanging open in ecstasy as all the muscles in your body tense followed by a sudden burst of euphoria pulsing through you.

Aemond hums in satisfaction as you ride your high, blood rushing in your ears as you shake on top of him, clenching around his thick length. He’s careful to pull his thumb away from your sensitive clit as your eyes flutter open, eyebrows scrunched together at the overstimulation. But his compassion is short-lived as he hooks his arm around your waist, flipping you onto your back and slotting his body on top of yours.

His cock is removed for merely a moment at the switch of positions before it’s stretching into your once more earning a sharp gasp. Aemond’s hand covers your mouth in an instant, his face buried in the crook of your neck once more.

“Shhh,” he coos, placing a kiss under your ear, “Hear that?” he asks, thrusting gently into your warmth causing your eyes to roll back in your head. “Listen.”

His hips continue their gentle roll against yours, slowly stoking the pleasurable fire that is reigniting in your belly. Limbs still tingling from your previous orgasm, you blink rapidly trying to focus on what he’s asking.

The music downstairs has died.

“Everyone’s going home,” he murmurs, through another kiss, “We’d best be quick. Would hate for lovely Cerelle to find her pet in such a position.”

Embarrassment burns your cheeks and he chuckles, keeping his hand over your mouth as he slings your leg over his shoulder, deepening the angle of his thrusts. The head of his cock bullies against your sweet spot almost lovingly as he drags his cock in and out.

“Keep quiet,” he murmurs, the sound of silence deafening with the lack of music, “Can you do that?” He’s rather cruel with his question, delivering a particularly harsh thrust as he asks, then clicking his tongue in disapproval at your muffled moan. “Thought not.”

So his hand remains as he plows into you, the sounds of your pleasure muffled but still desperate as you claw at his shoulders.

“That’s it,” he encourages, “Cum for me again, just like that.” His pelvis grazes against your clit, the friction only aiding in his efforts of making you reach your release once more. His violet eye scans your face before he dips to your collarbone, nipping the sensitive flesh with his teeth and you cum with a desperate cry against his hand.

“There you go,” he coos, the words breathy and broken his hips faltering as your walls clamp down around him, “Squeezing me so fucking tight—fuck.” He regains his pace with renewed enthusiasm as your walls continue to flutter around him. Aemond removes his hand from your mouth pressing it into the mattress beside your head.

Nerves raw from the continued stimulation a tear rolls down your cheek as he chases his own release. Aemond leans forward, hot tongue darting out to catch the salty stream as he hums in satisfaction.

“We’ll have more time next time,” he whispers the promise against your cheek, “I want to explore what other pretty noises you make.” His lips capture yours then, swallowing the whimper you release.

“I’m very curious,” he murmurs against your lips, slinging your other leg over his shoulder, pushing your knees back beside your ears. “And I’m very thorough.” A silent scream leaves you as he slams back into you, toes curling as you cum again, vision going white with the force of it.

Aemond’s hips meet yours a few more times and then you feel his cock pulsate inside of you before the warmth of his release fills you to the brim. You’ll need to make a trip to the pharmacy, but you’ll think about that later. He stays like that for a moment, buried to the hilt inside of you as you both try to regulate your breathing.

Aemond lowers your legs gently from around his shoulders and brushes some sweat-soaked hair from your forehead.

“Are you alright?” he asks, and you nod as he kisses you sweetly.

“Just fucked out,” you assure him, a pleasurable ache radiating down your thighs. Aemond hums, carefully pulling his softening cock from your warmth.

The emptiness takes your breath away as he stands. “Wait here,” he orders, walking towards Cerelle’s bathroom. He returns a moment later, washcloth in hand. You push yourself onto shaky forearms as he carefully cleans the mess between your thighs.

“Thank you,” you tell him, face burning from his attention.

“No need for thanks,” he insists, “It’s the bare minimum.”

“For you maybe.”

Aemond flicks a brow toward his hairline, his violet eye meeting yours. His expression is curious, but you sense he’s not going to push you to elaborate. You hold his gaze.

Not tonight.

“Are you staying here?” he asks, standing when he’s done, handing you pieces of your clothes.

“I think I have to,” you answer, putting your skirt back on and glancing at the clock, “The last bus is long gone.”

Aemond frowns, reaching for his phone.

“I’ll have my driver take you,” he says, unlocking his screen.

“You don’t have to—”

“It’s no trouble,” he insists, placing the phone against his ear, “Cole. Ten minutes. Thank you.” He hangs up quickly leaving no time to argue.

“Thanks,” you mutter awkwardly while finishing dressing. You walk to Cerelle’s large mirror and attempt to fix your sex hair. Your eyes widen in horror as you tilt your head to the side, leaning closer to get a better look.

“Aemond,” you hiss, fingers pressing against the three red marks sure to bruise, “I look like I’ve been mauled by a bear.”

Aemond walks up behind you dragging his fingers down the curve of your neck and over your collarbone. Goosebumps appear in their wake. Three more red marks lead a path down to the top of your right breast. Several sizable mouth-shaped love bites.

Aemond rests his chin on your shoulder, meeting your eyes in the mirror.

“Think of them as a gift,” he tells you, the curve of his lips pressed against the skin of your neck.

His hand curves around your waist, the other slinking up to turn your face towards him. He hums appreciatively, kissing your lips, then your cheek. Down your neck to your shoulder. You glance in the mirror once more, catching his eye.

There’s something new there. Almost possessive.

His grip on your waist tightens and he presses his teeth into the soft flesh of your shoulder.

Outside, snow begins to fall.

2K notes · View notes

neptuneiris · 4 months ago

Text

Cruel Summer (01/10)

Sunset's Bay

pairing: modern!aemond × fem!reader

summary: There are two sides to the city of Sunset's Bay, the rich who live in 'Crown's' and the poor who live in 'Black Waves'. What happens when a rich guy and a poor girl meet and inevitably fall in love? In the city where they live and with their status, that can't be possible.

words: 5.8k

series masterlist • next part

I wasn't sure about posting this but if you like the story I will continue with it, it all depends on how you receive it😬

in case you like it, I want to advance that the story will be a kind of forbidden love by the fact of rich and poor hehe and I have a lot prepared, basically everything is already written, I just need to structure it in a better way

this has only been an introduction to the world of Sunset's Bay, so I hope you enjoy it and the warnings will be added as I post the chapters if you like it🤗

so enjoy!

Sunset's Bay.

The hidden but mostly inhabited beach on the California Coast, with golden and white sands that slide into crystal clear waters of such a deep blue that it seems infinite.

According to Google, it is one of the most beautiful beaches in Northern California and where teenagers living in surrounding cities yearn to come every time a new summer begins.

Sunset and sunrise on these waters are beautiful, as they transform the horizon into a palette of vibrant colors, from warm shades of gold and pink to soft purple and the deep blue of night.

Every summer, the beach comes alive with exciting surfing tournaments, as well as Sunset's Pier, the midpoint of the beach where everyone mingles, transforms into charity events with live music, fireworks and lamp shows that illuminate the night with a mesmerizing light show.

Boat and yacht rides add a touch of sophistication to the coastal scene. This allows tourists to explore the waters beyond the beach, visit small islands up close and enjoy the serenity of the open sea.

But on top of all that, everything is meticulously maintained, most of it, like the clean, spacious beaches, adorned by palm trees swaying gently in the sea breeze.

And your favorite section, the volcanic stone cliffs that are distributed in specific locations on the beach, offering rocky walls as you sit on the seashore behind you and all around, emerging as natural guardians of the beach.

And from their heights, you can take in panoramic views of all the beauty of the landscape, encompassing the vast endless ocean and coastline to the endless horizon.

You always looked forward to coming here as a child when a new term at school ended and your mother was always willing to come and spend the vacations with your relatives, the Blackwoods.

They always welcomed you and your mother and together with your cousin Alysanne, you had an amazing summer.

Ever since you were little, you have always been tattooed with the memory of the sand on your feet, the salt air in your nostrils, the water enveloping you completely and the sun in full sunset caressing your whole face as you watched it on the horizon starting to descend on the shore of the beach with the cliffs behind you.

And now, that's all you know, a life in Sunset's and your frequent days at the beach.

Living with your aunt and uncle and Alysanne in a house big enough to also make room for you on the beach shore, this has been your home for exactly a year now.

And now summer has begun.

"Sam has sent a message."

You raise your gaze to Alysanne as you finish cleaning one of the tables.

"He says to meet him at the beach with the others in the evening. Do you want to go?"

You place a small smile on your lips.

"Sure."

"Table nine!"

You both turn your heads toward your boss, who looks at both of you as if he wants to kill you at any moment, and you quickly rush to serve the food, briefly wiping the sweat from your brow to keep working.

"Hurry up, Blackwood," Mr. Frey tells you reluctantly as you begin to pick up the orders on the tray.

You let out a long breath and glance at the clock briefly before going to serve, realizing that you will have to put up with this for four more hours and for the rest of the summer as well.

Unfortunately you and Alysanne have to work, as it has been for some months now at a seafood restaurant where the 'rich' people from this side of the city come to enjoy the delicious food.

And because of the summer, the work has increased. But that doesn't stop them both from having fun now that summer has begun.

So as soon as you and Alysanne finish your shift, you head home as soon as possible and start getting ready to meet your friends at the beach.

Previously going out and having fun was a problem for Alysanne's parents, your aunt and uncle were not the liberal type, but as soon as you both started working and helping them with the household expenses with what you could, they started to be more permissive and understanding.

And this is your home, the less ostentatious side of the city, but still genuine.

Once you join Sam and all the boys on the beach, you head for the small boat floating near the shore.

It is not a luxurious boat, much less can it be compared to a boat or yacht of the latest model, but it is a modest boat that has seen many summer seasons.

And it has taken them all to many spots on the beach and you have shared many anecdotes on it.

And as the boat glides through the calm waters, you and Alysanne enjoy the laughter and stories shared by the boys from the neighborhood, Sam, Daniel and Chase.

The three of them have been childhood friends of Alysanne's and when you came to live with her officially, she introduced you to them and now you all have formed a group of friends where you enjoy afternoons like these with Sam's boat and where you also go swimming and surfing all together.

The sea breeze caresses your faces and the sun slowly begins to descend as it paints the sky in warm golden tones, until the afternoon turns into night.

And on the beach, with a campfire in the center, the starry sky above and all together in a circle, you start burning marshmallows and drinking beer.

"And tell us..." speaks Daniel, watching you both curiously, "How about the slave life for the rich people?"

You and your cousin let out a small laugh.

"Slaves?" you repeat amused.

"Well yeah, come on, you said your boss... what's his name? Grey? Payne?"

"Frey," Alysanne corrects him.

"Yeah, that," he points to her, "He's a jerk or not?"

"And no concept of patience and prudence," you add.

"I imagine the ones who eat there are worse, no?" asks Chase.

Daniel snaps his fingers at him.

"Lannister?"

"Oh yeah, definitely. Jason Lannister has that vibe."

"I put him in the top one of the most hated, along with the Baratheons. And I have a feeling the Arryns do too, I don't know why," Daniel again looks at you both, "Right?"

"You work for them," Alysanne tells him amused, "Don't you know that?"

"Well, it's not like they can tell me much for cleaning their boats and yachts but... no–they're extremely nice, though..." he holds up his finger with a thoughtful expression, "Though I think there must be something wrong with them."

Alysanne lets out a snort.

"They're rich and live at Crown's, practically owning all the establishments on the beach just like the Lannisters, Baratheons, Tyrells and others leaving nothing for us, the poor ones, because they despise us," she says with an ironic but true tone "Of course there must be something wrong with them."

"One time one of them didn't leave me a tip," you say, remembering, "The Tyrell's."

Sam looks at you amused.

"Tips are not obligatory."

"Oh come on," you retort, with a touch of irony, "They're rich, they can have yachts and mansions, but can't they at least give me a five percent tip?"

"Yet it's not obligatory."

Everyone lets out a laugh.

"Yeah, it's not the nicest place to work and the customers aren't necessarily nice but the pay is good, after all," Alysanne says as she shrugs.

And that's true.

Even though it's not a good work environment, the necessity is what makes you not quit and endure as much as you can. Even though your aunt and uncle are taking care of you and taking responsibility for you, you know you can't continue that way forever.

You want to be independent, pay for your own things, especially you want to pay for college, but to do that, you have to work and now this is the job.

Besides it's useless to find work elsewhere when the owners are still the same; rich and arrogant. And you can't find work on your side of the city because the pay won't be much or maybe they won't even hire because they can't afford it.

But right now, being here enjoying the summer with your friends and your cousin, you allow yourself not to think about it and just continue to criticize the rich people.

And after many cans of beer, Chase picks up his guitar and you all together start singing in the most off-key and horrible way possible, laughing amongst everyone with the jokes filling the air, just like the heat of the flames and the aroma of roasting marshmallows.

"You had a party and didn't invite me!?"

Almost everyone together turns their heads unexpectedly toward the approaching outside voice laden with amusement and mild reproach.

And then they all see Cregan Stark with a huge grin and a bottle of beer in hand.

The guys soon start showing off at the mere sight of him, making jokes and greeting him with great enthusiasm, as Cregan greets them.

And you just watch Alysanne with a sly smile, amused by Cregan's sudden appearance, but of course, she quickly hides all traces of whatever her reaction is to seeing him, adjusting her expression to one of neutrality as she tries to appear disinterested.

But you know.

And you're amused at how she acts as if you don't know her.

Cregan Stark is the spoiled son of one of the wealthiest families in Sunset's, living in one of the most exclusive areas on the Crown's side.

His appearance reflects his status; brand name clothes, really expensive accessories, late model car and an attitude that denotes familiarity with luxury. However, despite his wealth, Cregan has proven to be different from other boys in his social environment.

Although he has access to all the luxuries, he does not carry with him the air of superiority and arrogance that many would expect from someone like him and that those of his class usually display.

In fact, Cregan became friends with Chase, who works for his family in the ports.

And it was Chase who introduced him to the group and although at first no one felt confident with him, Cregan instead of imposing his status, imposed a genuine and friendly demeanor that won the friendship of everyone in the circle.

Later everyone understood that he doesn't really enjoy being with people from the same environment as himself. The wealthy teenagers he usually hung out with, for the most part, were overly judgmental and arrogant.

So thanks to Chase, he found company with all of you, the guys from across the city who don't have a mansion and all the money in the world, but who are genuine and free of pretense.

Despite the looks people give Cregan for not understanding his choice of company, he deliberately ignores them. His parents don't say anything to him either, although he says they clearly prefer that he stop interact with you.

"I am deeply, intensely and extremely offended," he says expressing mock indignation, holding a hand to his chest, watching you incredulously but amused.

"Come on, man, don't get dramatic," Chase tells him giving him a friendly tap on the shoulder.

"Yeah, we're just getting warmed up," Sam encourages him.

"Besides..." says Daniel, in an exaggerated tone, "We can't send messages across the beach, us poor people have to use carrier pigeons like the olden days to get anything to you, but guess what... we're so poor we can't even afford pigeons."

Everyone lets out a laugh, enjoying Daniel's humor in implying the differences between the poor and the rich on the beach.

"Stop, seriously, why didn't you guys tell me you were doing this?" Cregan asks, taking a seat on the logs.

"I heard there's a party on your side of the beach and I figured you'd be heading over there," Chase tells him, "Which you did, didn't you?" he points to the beer in his hand.

He lets out a long breath.

"Yeah but it was pretty fucking boring."

"Boring?" you repeat incredulously, "A party with a DJ, champagne and yachts I highly doubt is boring."

"Well, not that it wasn't fun," he says looking around and observing everyone, "But I wanted this, to be with you guys, the atmosphere."

"And how did you know we were here?" asks Alysanne curious.

"I didn't exactly know," he smiles at her, "So I just decided to come and try my luck."

"Oh man, stop it or you'll make me cry," Daniel jokes, holding a hand to his heart.

"He loves us, doesn't he?" asks Sam, with a smirk.

"Yeah, he definitely loves us."

Everyone laughs and you watch discreetly as he and Alysanne start throwing their little looks at each other.

"Party with DJ and yachts? Man, if I were you, I'd be enjoying that," Sam confesses, shaking his head in a gesture of incomprehension.

"It's not big deal and people are hateful, believe me."

No one argues with him about that but you too sometimes wish you could have fun like that, have the experience of going to a beach party like the rich kids in the movies, just once.

But the time will come, someday, there are still many summers left to enjoy.

The conversation flows as the boys settle around the campfire, the warmth of the fire contrasting with the cool night breeze blowing in from the sea.

The atmosphere is filled with laughter and banter, and the relaxed beach setting becomes the perfect backdrop for a night of genuine camaraderie.

Cregan, with his carefree and genuine attitude, seems to fit right in with all fo you and that he values sincere company over superficial luxury.

And you don't know exactly how much more time passes or how many beers that Daniel brings back the theme of the rich party on the other side of the beach.

"Hey, Cregan," he says, leaning forward with a mischievous expression, "Since you're here, why don't you take us to that party? I'm sure it's not as bad as you say."

Cregan raises an eyebrow, amused but surprised.

"What?"

Something about Daniel's words clicks in everyone's head, even yours, so you quickly exchange glances with Alysanne. And Cregan notices how everyone starts to truly consider it.

"Do you guys really want to go to that party?"

"And why not?" asks Alysanne, with an grin, "I'm sure we can have fun, even if we're not part of the rich circle."

"Yeah, and besides..." adds Sam, with a persuasive tone, "It would be interesting to see what the other side of the city is like from the inside. We've never been to a party like this."

Cregan seems to think about it for a moment, looking at the boys with a mixture of doubt and amusement.

"Seriously you guys are telling me this? The rich haters?"

You shrug.

"The rich hate us too."

"And that's precisely why we want to go," Sam says, gesturing animatedly, "We want to try something different. And who knows, maybe we'll give you a good reason to have a little more fun at that party. Right, Chase?"

Everyone looks at Chase, who shrugs.

"I guess that wouldn't be bad."

"But you haven't thought this through," Cregan insists, "As soon as they see you all, they'll know you're not like them."

Everyone looks at themselves and well... he's right.

The rich, especially those who are the same age as you, have a radar to recognize someone who is just like them... or not.

But you don't blame them, since you have them too, the difference is that you don't make disgusted faces or criticize in whispers as soon as you notice.

You notice your two-piece bikini top is wrinkled and is clearly second hand, besides your worn-out sandals. Alysanne is also in the same condition as you and the boys... well, they're worse.

Sam's shirt is torn, Chase's is torn, and the clothes are visibly secondhand.

"We have better clothes at home," you tell Alysanne and she nods.

"And we take our shirts off and stay in shorts," Daniel says, in solution, "Are we at the beach or not?"

"And if something goes wrong, we can always run out and come back here," Alysanne suggests.

Everyone nods and basically watches Cregan with puppy dog eyes, hopeful that he will take you to his kind of people.

"What do you think, Cregan?"

Cregan is silent for a few seconds, his gaze sweeping over the group around him, analyzing and thinking about all the things that could go wrong. And he doesn't pass up the abandoned cat look that Daniel and Sam throw at him.

And finally, he lets out a laugh and a resigned sigh.

"All right, all right. I'll take you. But if we have a bad time, don't say I didn't warn you."

"That's what I like to hear!" exclaims Sam, raising his arms in victory.

"We won't regret it."

"We may not but the rich will."

"Thanks, Cregan," says Alysanne, patting him on the back.

You frown as you watch her gesture and also notice Cregan's confused look for a moment, but go back to watching the boys.

"Well, then let's go before I change my mind."

You put out the campfire, pick up the trash and with laughter they all very animatedly walk away from your spot on the beach, heading first towards the trash cans and then towards Cregan's car.

"You do know Cregan likes you, don't you?" you say to Alysanne, walking a little further away from the guys.

She gives you an incredulous look.

"What?"

"Oh come on and you like him too, don't deny it."

"Of course I don't."

"Of course you do."

"You're crazy."

"And you won't stand a chance if you keep treating him like just a dude."

"Oh yeah, yeah, whatever you say."

You let out a laugh, understanding that it will be difficult for her to accept and share it with you, so you give her time. The guys behind you laugh too, with the echo fading into the salty air, leaving the sea breeze and the sound of the waves behind.

The difference in locations is completely noticeable.

You leave behind the small wooden houses, the unkempt streets, the establishments where you and your friends can shop, the bicycles and old cars, to move to large neighborhoods with green grass, trees and bushes on every corner with huge luxurious houses, almost mansions with modern cars and expensive decorations.

The guys are excited and so are you, as you have never explored these sections of the beach before, which are completely exclusive and with access for the rich people.

Obviously there are entrances with booths and security guards, so Cregan's appearance alone proves he's a Stark and he's allowed in without objection.

And soon enough, you arrive at the party.

"Oh my goodness, look at this," exclaims Alysanne, wide-eyed as she takes in the scene.

"That's a Prestige F4?" asks Sam in surprise, eyeing the luxurious yacht in the distance.

"Seriously, how much money do these people have?" mutters Daniel, in shock.

"More than you'll ever have," Alysanne tells him with a smirk as you all walk onto the beach illuminated by the party lights.

"You don't know that," Chase replies to her, pretending to be offended, "Maybe someday I'll get rich and buy one of those," he points to the yachts.

"I'm very offended that you didn't invite us to your parties sooner," Daniel says to Cregan, putting a hand to his chest as if he were badly wounded, "How could you hide all this from us?"

"Don't draw too much attention to yourselves, guys," Cregan asks with a mixture of concern and amusement in his voice.

"We won't," says Sam, "We'll just enjoy ourselves apart from the others but inside, you get it?"

The music starts to get louder and soon enough, we are inside the party.

Blue and purple neon lights illuminate the white sand, creating a dazzling contrast against the night sky. Waves break gently on the shore, almost muted by the music vibrating through the air.

There is indeed a DJ from a raised platform and most of the people here dance in the center to the music, some with cocktails in hand, bottles of champagne or recording the moment on their phones.

Near the dock, several luxurious yachts are docked, all decorated with lights flashing to the rhythm of the music. There are people inside them, enjoying the party from right there.

Some people get off the yachts to join the party on the beach, while others stay on board, enjoying the view and the exclusivity it offers.

If not beer, there is a bar offering a variety of exotic drinks and gourmet appetizers, such as sushi, caviar and canapés.

And throughout the party, groups of people are spread out, chatting animatedly, laughing, toasting and dancing. There are also party games, such as beer pong and spin the bottle.

While others gather around improvised campfires farther away near the sea, where the atmosphere is more relaxed, watching the spectacle around them.

The air is permeated with the smell of sea salt mixed with expensive perfumes and the sound of laughter and music all along the beach.

It is a party that clearly reflects the wealth and status of their hosts, as well as the people present; pure spoiled kids with rich parents.

"Are we going to have fun or what!?" exclaims Sam excitedly, fully entering the party and everyone follows.

Chase convinces Cregan to be worrying since most of the people here are in their own world and he doubts drunkenly checking to see if they have the latest model Iphone or what.

And honestly you relax too as everyone here is having fun and you along with Alysanne look more presentable in nice bikinis.

They are second hand still but they are more cared for than the others you have.

Sam quickly orders drinks, surprised and excited to have gotten a bottle of champagne, then Cregan and the others take him and you and Alysanne to a more secluded spot.

You make a space for yourselves on the sand, a bit secluded from everyone, having the view of the huge luxurious houses, the cliffs in the distance and also the illuminated yachts on the dock behind you.

Pretty soon you have your beer and start enjoying yourselves just like everyone else, not worrying too much and just pretending you are one of them all.

Mingling with the rich at Sunset's pier is one thing, since the pier is the center of the entire beach and there are no prejudices there, but now pretending to be one is completely different.

You find yourself watching everyone around you when Alysanne nudges you slightly and points her gaze to a specific spot.

"Look at that."

You follow her gaze and see a group of girls.

"That bracelet is from Pandora, I saw it on Instagram."

From here you can see how their gold and silver necklaces and bracelets sparkle. Also the bikinis they have on are beautiful, certainly brand name. There is also a girl with a Guess bag and they all have the latest Iphone model in their hand.

And you turn to Alysanne with a shrug.

"Why are we judging when it should be the other way around?"

"We're not judging, we're just noticing the differences between girls like them and girls like us."

You both let out a laugh.

"You definitely want that Pandora bracelet, don't you?" you look at her amused.

"And you don't?"

The two of you continue to observe or rather admire all those rich girls who have fancy accessories when suddenly you hear a specific boast behind you.

You turn your head and see the dock, noticing how some impeccably dressed people are boarding one of the larger yachts docked near the shore.

And there they are.

You think as you make out those distinctive black, red and silver hair.

Of course they couldn't miss a party like this, the sons of the most influential families in the city, the Lannister's, Baratheon's and Targaryen's, practically the elite of Sunset's.

You've seen Cerelle, Tyshara and Loreon Lannister before on the Sunset's Pier, their red hair gives away who they are instantly. They always brag about their luxurious yachts, cars, jewelry stores and everything else they own.

Their father, Jason Lannister, has built an empire based on shipbuilding and port development.

From what you understand, his company designs and manufactures some of the most advanced and exclusive ships for the world's elite.

In addition to this, Lannister also owns a network of ports and shipyards on several coasts, allowing him to maintain a steady flow of wealth through port fees and contracts with global corporations.

This influence has given him a prominent place among the city's powerful and his family has inherited not only his fortune, but also his imposing and domineering character.

So it is no surprise that the Lannister's are typical spoiled children with clearly very wealthy parents, as are the others, especially the Baratheon's, Cassandra, Maris and Floris.

Known as much for their tanned skin and peculiar dark hair as for their arrogant attitude, they always seek to be the center of attention at any such social event.

Cassandra, the eldest, has a dominant bearing and never misses an opportunity to show off her status. She is also the best known of the daughters to go out every now and then with a boy from an important family either from the city or abroad.

Next, there is Maris, the quietest of the three and the most reserved, but still, as you have heard, just as spoiled and boastful as her older sister.

And finally, Floris, Cerelle's best friend and supposedly the most arrogant, capricious, shallow and boastful of the three.

She is the one who seems the sweetest at first glance, but her spoiled nature soon becomes evident when something doesn't go her way.

You also know that there are two other children, a daughter and a son, Ellyn and Royce, but apparently Ellyn prefers to stay at home and Royce does not live here.

Her father, Borros Baratheon, is a most important and influential shipping magnate and merchant in the region, known for his connections with outside businessmen.

He owns one of the largest commercial fleets operating along the entire Pacific coast. You don't know exactly what it's about but the guys have talked about how his company specializes in logistics and shipping goods across the ocean or something like that.

And finally, the sons of the most powerful family in the entire city and the entire country, the Targaryen's.

Viserys Targaryen is known as the most powerful man in the entire country and by extension his entire family as well. He owns one of the largest and most influential corporations in the region.

Your uncle Ben always had a kind of admiration for him, though your aunt always expressed her dislike of him, as well as the other families, for simply being other greedy money-rotters who drive up the costs of the city for all that they invest to elevate their status and leave you poor people increasingly difficult to make a living.

You honestly couldn't agree with her more, but the Targaryen's have been forging their main empire here in Sunset's for a very long time now and there is nothing that can really be done about it.

The Targaryen business empire focuses on multiple sectors, but they are best known for owning a very prestigious bank, where they serve wealthy elites and large corporations, as well as financing large scale projects, such as real estate developments, technology or even public infrastructure.

You understand that he has built and manages shopping malls, corporate skyscrapers and exclusive developments in major cities across the country, as well as high profile tourist destinations like Sunset's.

So basically all of them and him especially have total control over the financial resources of the region, as well as infrastructure and development in the most luxurious sectors.

Although Viserys and his wife Alicent are no longer seen as much at events this side of Crown's and on the pier, their influence still shapes everything that happens here.

"Hey."

Sam snaps you out of your thoughts when you feel him tap you on the shoulder and you turn your head towards him, confused and attentive.

"Hm?"

"What are you looking at?" he asks you amused, sitting down next to you and offering you a new bottle of beer.

"Oh, no, nothing, just..." you shake your head, taking the beer and not paying attention to the son's and daughter's of rich parents.

But Sam had followed your gaze before.

"I know, they're beautiful, aren't they?"

You immediately watch him intently.

"Who?"

"The yachts," he tells you as if it's obvious, "Imagine spending a whole weekend on one, just doing this..." he points to the beer and all the partying, "In the middle of the ocean."

You let out a small laugh.

"That's your biggest dream, isn't it?"

"And for the yacht to be mine, obviously," he says excitedly, turning his gaze back to the dock where they all are, "If I used to see them from afar and feel envious, now it's torture to have them so close."

You look to where he sees and he has a very good point. They could live perfectly well on one of those yachts and there would be no problem, which is also one of your dreams.

"Oh, come on Sam," you give him a friendly smack, looking at him again and you notice the gleam of longing in his eyes, "Surely your charm can make a girl from Crown's fall in love with you and let you enjoy the amazing yachts."

He looks at you incredulously.

"A Crown's girl with someone like me? Are you kidding?"

"It's not impossible," you shrug.

"Oh yeah, here at Sunset's everything is impossible if you don't live on this side of town."

And that's another good point and very true.

Daniel joins you and Sam's little group and you stop paying attention the moment you turn your gaze back towards the yachts and them specifically.

This time you focus on the Targaryen's, Helaena, Aegon and Aemond.

Surprisingly, despite being in the top tier of the wealthiest and most powerful family in the entire city and country, compared to the Lannister's, Baratheon's, Tyrell's, Arryn's, Stark's and Greyjoy's, they are not so smug, superficial and arrogant.

Although, come to think of it, the only exception is Aegon.

The eldest of the brothers, he is characteristic of his carefree and arrogant attitude. His life is summed up in parties, girls and excesses. Everyone knows him, he is the soul of the party and drives all the girls crazy.

For him, life is a game where he always wins. Sometimes he seems like the typical privileged son who has never had to strive for anything, but his power lies precisely in that.

Then there is Helaena, the only sister among the Targaryens who has a pleasant and gentle presence.

Although she is rich, the richest of them all and extremely beautiful, she doesn't abuse it, she doesn't show it off, she's not shallow or arrogant, besides she's always looking out for her siblings.

She is the kind of person who doesn't need to shout to be noticed and with just a quiet smile, she earns the respect and admiration of those around her.

You know a little about her as Chase has a little now not so secret crush on her and honestly you don't blame him, she is absolutely beautiful and even kind, which is rare due to her provenance.

And finally there's Aemond, who of all them, he's always been... different.

Where Aegon is shameless and carefree, Aemond is calculating and serious. Always impeccably dressed, with an expression that doesn't say much and keeps him at a safe distance from most.

From what you've heard, he's extremely intelligent, he's also reserved and quiet, the complete opposite of Aegon.

There is also a rumor about him about his left eye, something about an accident as a child and where he apparently wears a prosthetic.

You don't really know much about it or him but he's always been intriguing and mysterious, in a way.

You focus on him specifically, watching him from a distance, curious, as he takes a seat on the deck with an expression you can't read as it doesn't tell you much.

You watch as his short silver hair moves slightly in the wind and breeze, as well as he watches everything around him intently, to again focus on his siblings and Floris.

Floris is his girlfriend, apparently they have been dating for a few months now and have given a lot to talk about since no one expected Aemond to even date anyone.

But there they are.

You watch as Floris approaches him and takes a seat on his lap, looking radiant in a tight dress and a huge smile on her face, but he, on the other hand, remains expressionless.

Floris murmurs something in his ear, to which he responds with a slight smile, but averts his gaze to the horizon. However, she gently takes him by the jaw and leaves a soft kiss on his lips.

They begin to kiss and you look away, trying to refocus on the party and enjoying yourself here with your friends.

However, being here with all these wealthy people, especially the Targaryen's, you can't help but feel that divide about the rich and the poor at Sunset's.

You feel like you live in two different worlds, where they, the rich, live a life completely oblivious to the concerns of the people on the other side of town, in Crown's.

While you and the others work in the restaurants, clean their yachts, boats, houses and make sure their lives are comfortable.

They float above it all, the Targaryen's, Lannister's, Stark's, Baratheon's and so on, attending parties and making decisions that only benefit their own.

But you, the poor, the ones who live in Black Waters have nothing, you don't have the money, the influence or the power. Even the name of your side of town is a mockery to them, the rich, in despising even more the poor who don't have what they have.

But that's the life in Sunset's Bay.

#aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #modern hotd #hotd aemond #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond x reader #aemond x fem!reader #modern aemond #modern au #aemond one eye #aemond x oc

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demigoddessqueens · 5 months ago

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Aemond: even at my worst?

Y/n: Even at your worst

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ewanmitchellcrumbs · 6 months ago

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Go in Shadows

Pairing: modern!Aemond Targaryen x f!reader Warnings: Alcohol use, drunken behaviour, referenced drug use, angst, eventual smut. Word count: ~8.5k

Summary: Summers spent with her best friend, Helaena, are the highlight of her year. However, a week-long stay at her place does not go as she expects it to when surrounded by one Targaryen brother that she pines for unrequitedly, and another that can't seem to stand her.

Author's note: For @lauraneedstochill. No tag list. Please follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications.

The grass tickles delicately at the backs of her bare thighs, causing her to squirm and change position, pulling the hem of her floral summer dress lower as she crosses her legs. It’s a hot and sunny Friday afternoon in July, and she’s making the most of her four day working week by spending her day off in the park with her best friend, Helaena.

Summer has always been her favourite time of year, from the six week long holidays of secondary school to the three month university breaks, and now the stolen afternoons and all too brief weekends of the working week. Helaena has been at her side for all of them. Summer is their time, a season in which their friendship has always thrived, fortified beneath a sun that never sets.

Helaena pauses, keeping the daisy chain she’s making in her hands still as she leans forward ever so slightly, watching intently at the wasp that buzzes around the open bottle neck of Koppaberg Cider that rests beside her, the heat of the day causing droplets of moisture to sweat from the glass.

“That’s going to drown in your cider, if you aren’t careful,” she warns her.

“Mmm,” Helaena muses dreamily, her eyes never leaving the wasp. “It wants the sugar.”

She watches for a few more moments, before it flies away, and then her attention turns back to her daisy chain, her numb nail piercing through the stem of the flower, before threading another through.

“Did your annual leave get approved for next week?” Helaena asks, blue eyes lifting from the floral chain in her hands to look at her hopefully.

“Yeah, I’m all set,” she says excitedly, before taking a swig of her own cider, relishing the way the sweet, berry flavour fizzes against her tongue. “So, what’s the plan?”

It’s not a question she really even needs to ask. It’s the same every year; Alicent takes a week-long trip to Oldtown to visit her father, Otto, and ever since Helaena was considered old enough to no longer accompany her, she stays behind, and the kids are left with a free house. She stays for the entire week, the house large enough that it feels like a holiday without needing to leave King’s Landing. They enjoy seven unsupervised days of swimming in the pool, raiding the fridge, and the inevitable rowdy and out of control parties that Helaena’s older brother, Aegon, insists upon throwing.

And therein lies the real reason she’s asking; to check which of the brothers will be in attendance. She has fancied Aegon for as long as she can remember, though he has never given her a second look beyond viewing her as his younger sister’s best friend. She exists in his shadow, laughing at all of his jokes, living for every thousand watt smile he casts her way, overlooking his often drunken, reckless behaviour, and pretending she doesn’t feel a burning sense of envy at the seemingly never ending rotation of girls he goes out with. His shadow seems to be where she is destined to remain forever, desperate to experience the warmth of his attention turned to her even once. The unrequited feelings weigh heavy upon her heart, tormenting her with soaring hope and devastating reality in equal measure.

As if able to read her mind, Helaena sighs. “Aegon’s going to be there…and Aemond too.”

She groans at this. Helaena’s younger brother, another bane of her existence, though for a completely different reason to Aegon. Aemond genuinely seems to loathe her, actively going out of his way to avoid her, refusing to even look at her if they’re in the same room. His responses are curt, bordering upon rudeness when she has tried previously to engage him in conversation, and so she has given up, taking to ignoring him just as he does to her, though it does not come as naturally to her as it does him. She feels her skin prickle in his presence, fidgeting uncomfortably at the shift in energy in the room whenever he enters. Back in secondary school, she had made an attempt to forge a bond with him, by approaching him with the history essay she was due to hand in, and asking for him to take a look at it in case there were any improvements he thought she could make.

Aemond had scoffed as he’d looked it over, sliding the papers back across the table towards her with a harsh flick of his wrist. “Derivative,” he’d commented dismissively. “The point you’re trying to make is too diffuse for you to adequately summarise it. If you were to improve it, you’d simply have to rewrite it.”

She had walked away holding back tears, bitterly regretting her decision to attempt to extend an olive branch. When the essay had been given back to her she had been awarded an A grade, which made Aemond’s comments even more baffling to her.

“Great,” she says with a roll of her eyes, “assuming he’ll have Alys to keep him busy?”

Helaena gives a solemn shake of her head. “They aren’t together anymore, so please try to be nice to him.”

She looks at Helaena incredulously. “Be nice to him?! Hel, Aemond hates me!”

“He doesn’t,” she replies with a gentle certainty.

“You don’t know that,” she huffs, swigging from her cider bottle once more.

“I do, actually,” Helaena utters, before turning her attention back to her daisy chain.

She feels that Helaena infuriates her almost as much as her brothers do sometimes. Bloody Targaryens.

A week later, her out of office is on and her bags are packed.

Helaena takes her bags, depositing them into an entryway closet to deal with later, the moment she steps through the door of the house, ushering her into the kitchen.

“Want to chop some stuff for me?” She asks. “I’m going to make a jug of Pimm’s for us all to drink by the pool.”

“Us all?” She asks, moving towards the chopping board on the kitchen side, where an assortment of strawberries, mint and cucumber has been set out, ready to be cut up.

“Yeah,” Helaena says, opening a cupboard and rummaging inside of it. “Me, you…Aemond, and Aegon…Aegon’s friend…”

Helaena’s voice tapers off as she pulls a glass jug from a shelf, her gaze turning towards the kitchen doorway.

She looks up from where she has been quartering a strawberry, her grip around the knife handle tightening subconsciously as she takes in the sight of Aegon standing there. But it’s not Aegon that is the issue, it’s the pretty brunette that’s standing next to him.

“Just wondering what’s taking so bloody long with the Pimm’s?” He asks, glancing between her and Helaena. “Are you fermenting the gin from scratch?”

“Hel was waiting for me to arrive,” she offers as a meek explanation, feeling her skin grow warm as he looks at her. “Hi, by the way.”

He fires off a mock salute at her, the casual gesture making her insides wither with disappointment. She was a fool to have expected anything more.

“I’m Cassandra,” the girl standing next to him pipes up with a cheerful smile, “nice to meet you.”

Aegon startles, as if suddenly realising she’s there, turning to look at Cassandra quickly before facing back towards her and Helaena.

“Oh yeah, Cass is gonna be staying for the week. Her brother’s brewery is supplying us with the kegs for Saturday.”

Cassandra nods enthusiastically, her eyes bright. “Royce owns Storm’s End brewery, he’s gonna sort us out with the beer for the party.”

“Lovely,” she says with a tight smile, lowering her eyes back to the chopping board and slicing into a cucumber with more aggression than is necessary.

“Why don’t you go and get comfy by the pool, Cass,” Aegon says, ushering her away with a smack on the bottom. “I’ll make sure these two hurry the fuck up with the drinks.”

Helaena’s eyes narrow once Cassandra is out of earshot, looking at Aegon as she empties a full bottle of Pimm’s into the glass jug. “You’re sleeping with one of the Baratheon sisters to get free beer? That’s low even for you.”

Aegon shrugs with a smirk. “I’m not above schmoozing for booze, Hel.”

“You’re a pig,” she retorts softly, moving to the fridge and pulling out a bottle of lemonade. “What about what happened with Floris and Aemond?”

Aegon snorts derisively, leaning against the doorframe. “They only kissed.”

“And then she stalked him afterwards…”

“The week of a thousand texts!”

“Fifty seven to be precise. You remember, right?” She asks, turning to her friend for back up.

“Yeah, didn’t Aemond ghost her because she used the incorrect version of ‘your’ in a message?”

Helaena nods. “Yes, that was mean, and she didn’t deserve that. But sending someone so many texts when they clearly aren’t going to reply is a bit…” She wrinkles her nose. “...overbearing.”

“And she left him a five minute long voicemail,” Aegon titters.

“Yeah, you’re a pig,” Helaena insists, sloshing lemonade into the Pimm’s.

“Oh well. Hurry up!” Aegon demands with a clap of his hands, before walking away.

She hands Helaena the chopping board, now laden with chopped up garnishes and watches as she scrapes it into the jug, before stirring it.

Looking up, Helaena takes in the pained expression of her friend, her face softening. “Trust me, as Aegon’s sister, he’s not worth it.”

“I’m fine,” she quips unconvincingly, moving away to fetch glasses from another cupboard. “He’s just messing around.”

“I just think if you’re looking for someone who genuinely cares about you, then you’re looking in the wrong place.”

“What does that mean?” She asks, taking down five glass tumblers from the shelf.

“Just…don’t close yourself off to other possibilities.”

Helaena takes the jug and heads outside to the pool, before she has a chance to respond.

Always so cryptic. It’s infuriating.

To her horror, as she heads out into the garden, glasses gripped between her fingers, Helaena has set herself up on the sun lounger on the furthest end, leaving the only one free between her and Aemond.

She sets the glasses down on the patio table, next to the Pimm’s jug and takes a moment to steel herself, before heading over. Wordlessly, she lays down on the sun lounger, trying to suppress the unease that ripples beneath her skin at the imposing figure of Aemond next to her. His sun lounger has its back propped up, and he sits bolt upright, long silver hair pulled up into a bun and a pair of black Ray Bans perched upon the bridge of his aquiline nose as he reads a philosophy book.

Pretentious twat.

“Aemond, pour us all some Pimm’s,” Helaena says lazily, leaning back on her lounger and propping an arm above her head.

His brow furrows momentarily before he responds. “Why do I have to do it?”

“Because you haven’t done anything to help out with our gathering yet.”

“It’s your gathering,” he retorts, “I just happen to live here. I’m not an active participant.”

She sighs, not wanting to listen to any more of their bickering. “It’s fine, I’ll do it.”

“No, I will,” Aemond snaps, standing abruptly and setting his book down, before storming over to the table.

“Christ, what a prick,” she mutters to herself as she watches him go.

An hour later, she has changed into her bikini, and is laying on her front on her sun lounger, the remnants of her glass of Pimm’s turning warm in the sunshine beside it, as she loses herself in a historical fiction novel.

She can feel the heat prickling at her skin, and knows she ought to have put suncream on before coming back outside, she’ll burn if she continues to lay there. Sighing, she places her book on the patio next to her glass and sits up, reaching for the bottle which lays discarded beneath where Helaena is currently laying, dozing beneath her makeshift blanket of a beach towel.

She applies the lotion generously to her face, arms, legs and the exposed parts of her torso, stopping when she realises she is unable to reach her back. Looking over at Helaena, she can see she is still fast asleep, lulled into unconsciousness by warmth and alcohol.

Aegon and Cassandra sit by the edge of the pool with their feet submerged, talking and laughing as they drink what’s left of the Pimm’s directly from the jug, passing it back and forth. She would honestly rather die than go over there and risk the embarrassment of asking either one of them to help her.

Grunting with the strain of stretching her arms as far behind her as they’ll go, she attempts to spread sun cream on the rapidly reddening flesh of her shoulder blades.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Aemond sighs exasperatedly, slamming his book closed. “Give it here!”

“What?” She freezes, embarrassment enveloping her like a shroud.

“Insulting as it is that you would rather attempt to wrench your arms free of their sockets than ask me for help, I can’t help but find your pathetic little display highly distracting. Give me the sun scream, I’ll do it for you.”

She is stunned into silence by the offer, her stomach erupting into nervous flutters at the idea of someone who hates her so much actually offering to help her, and with something so intimate too. She passes him the bottle, praying he doesn’t notice the way her hand trembles, doing her best to avoid the piercing gaze of his singular seeing eye.

“Turn around then,” he commands, after a few moments of silence.

“Oh…right, of course….yeah!”

A fresh wave of humiliation washes over her, and she finds herself grateful for the opportunity to face away from him as she repositions, glad that she doesn’t have to see the hands of her best friend’s petulant younger brother moving over her body.

Her breath hitches when his fingers make first contact with her skin, though she does her best to suppress the accompanying squeak of surprise that had wanted to accompany it. His touch is gentler than she had anticipated, soft and careful as he works to spread the cream evenly across her back and shoulders. She feels herself relax, nervous tension evaporating as she focuses on the press of his fingertips against her flesh.

“How is life at the library treating you?” He asks casually, as he applies more cream to his fingers, spreading it across the lower part of her back.

“How do you know I work at the library?” She asks, surprised by his knowledge of her job.

“Your best friend is my older sister,” he says as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world, though what he says next is expressed with hesitant shyness. “...and I walk past it sometimes…see you in there…”

“Ah,” is all she’s able to reply, shocked but also annoyed with herself. This is the most Aemond has ever spoken to her, and she’s so rattled by it she can’t reciprocate the effort within the conversation he’s trying to strike up.

When she hears the cap on the sun cream bottle click closed, she finally seizes the opportunity to speak. “I was sorry to hear about you and Alys,” she says softly, “you guys were cute together.”

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business,” he tells her cooly, tossing the bottle onto the towel next to her before standing up and walking back inside.

She watches him go over her shoulder, silently cursing herself for her thoughtlessness in bringing up such a sensitive topic.

Aemond avoids her for the rest of the day, and much of the next, until the following evening when Aegon and Helaena decide that a barbecue is a good idea.

The sky is a muted blue, the final vestige of daytime clinging to it, delaying the inevitable setting of the sun, as the air hangs thick with humidity, exacerbated from the smoke that billows upwards from the barbecue.

“Is there room for my veggie sausages?” Helaena asks, peering over Aegon’s shoulder as he stands at the sizzling grill, a bottle of beer in one hand and tongs in the other, turning pieces of chicken.

“Yeah, in the bin,” he replies smugly, before swigging from his beer bottle.

She can’t help but giggle quietly at the remark as she stirs dressing into the bowl of salad that rests upon the patio table.

Helaena tuts, holding out the packet towards her older brother. “Don’t be selfish!”

“Ugh, fine,” Aegon scoffs with a roll of his eyes, setting his bottle down and snatching the packet from her.

She watches as he moves the meat on the grill to one side, before unceremoniously dumping out the sausages into the empty space. She huffs a laugh, shaking her head at his immaturity.

Placing the salad bowl in the centre of the table, she’s about to reach for a packet of bread rolls to open, when Cassandra breezes out into the garden, laden with plates and cutlery.

“Why do you have six of everything?” Helaena asks suspiciously, fiddling with the corkscrew in the top of a bottle of wine. “There are only five of us.”

Cassandra gives a dismissive shrug. “Must have been miscounted,” she says, before joining Aegon at the barbecue, fussing at him for overcooking everything.

By the time they all sit around the table, a stony faced Aemond now having joined them, she is impressed by the spread that they have managed to pull together. Chicken, burgers and kebabs sit piled on a platter, though slightly burned. Salad, cold pasta, bread and dips accompany it all, and Helaena has ensured everyone has a glass of chilled Sauvignon Blanc.

The sky has begun to darken, a purple aura surrounding the burned orange glow that hangs low on the horizon, a pretty contrast to the fairy lights that are strung along the fence and overhead of where they sit.

She is trading the salad bowl for the plate of rolls with Helaena when Cassandra glances at her phone, so she barely notices when she excuses herself from the table with a flippant “be right back!”

A few moments later, she almost chokes on her wine, setting her glass down heavily upon the table and pressing her palm to her chest as she swallows forcefully.

Cassandra has reappeared in the garden, this time with her sister, Floris, at her side.

“Oh god,” Helaena mutters under her breath, setting down her knife and fork.

Considering the way Aegon’s eyes visibly widen, it’s clear he doesn’t know that Cassandra had planned this.

Aemond sits with his back facing the patio door, so is the last to turn to look.

“Room for one more?” Floris asks with a bright smile.

Aemond whips back around in his seat, fury reflected in his right eye as he glares at Aegon, his voice dripping with venom. “Absolutely not.”

Aegon holds up his hands defensively, shoulders pulling up towards his ears. “I didn’t know!”

Ignoring the obvious tension in the air, Cassandra returns to her place next to Aegon, while Floris plops down into the empty seat between her and Aemond. She is sure she sees him physically recoil from her.

“Cassandra told me all about you and Alys,” Floris coos softly, placing her hand over the top of Aemond’s, “I thought perhaps you’d need a friend.”

“You’re not my friend,” Aemond glowers, snatching his hand back.

“Yeah, he doesn’t have any,” Aegon laughs, draping his arm around the back of Cassandra’s chair.

“Stop it,” Helaena hisses at him.

“You know, I think you’re being kind of rude,” Floris says to Aemond, “I’m just trying to be nice.”

“You know what I think is rude?” He spits back. “Not being able to take a fucking hint, turning up to someone’s house uninvited. That is rude.”

“I invited her,” Cassandra cuts in, though she shrinks back the moment that Aemond directs his angry gaze towards her.

“And who the fuck are you?! A vapid little nobody that my brother has decided is his flavour of the week.”

“Are you going to let him speak to me like that?!” Cassandra demands, looking expectantly at Aegon.

Aegon cringes outwardly, pulling his arm back from Cassandra’s chair. “This doesn’t really involve me, to be honest,” he tells her awkwardly.

“God, you’re pathetic!” She seethes, standing abruptly, causing the legs of her chair to scrape loudly against the patio. “Come on, Floris, we’re leaving.”

Floris stands, scowling down at Aemond as she does so. “You know, for someone who has—” she gestures towards his face, pointing specifically at his prosthetic eye, “you’d think you’d be more grateful for the attention.”

She flounces off alongside her sister, leaving the four of them in stunned silence. Helaena looks as though she wants to burst into tears, Aegon stares blankly across the table, fingers spinning his wine glass around by its stem, while Aemond quietly seethes with rage.

“Well, that was awkward,” Aegon finally says, reaching for more chicken.

The slamming of Aemond’s fist upon the table causes them all to startle, the force of it rattling the plates and glasses. They all look at him, wide eyed, as he stands up silently and walks back into the house.

She feels awful for the way Floris had spoken to him, and is desperate to make up for her earlier blunder, after fumbling their conversation so horribly. She can’t stand the thought of him being alone and upset, when both of his siblings are clearly in no position to offer comfort.

“I’ll go after him,” she says softly, rising from her seat and walking back into the house.

She finds Aemond in the foyer, about to head upstairs.

“Wait,” she calls out, “I just wanted to see if you’re okay?”

“Never better,” he says sullenly, though he pauses and turns to face her.

“What Floris said was really uncalled for. Please don’t listen to her,” she tells him sympathetically, her eyes pleading as she looks up at him.

“I said I’m fine,” he insists, refusing to look her in the eye.

“You don’t have to pretend, it’s okay not to–”

“What are you, a fucking therapist?!” He rages, causing her to shrink back.

“No, I was just trying to make you feel better,” she whispers meekly.

“Well, don’t,” he snaps back, “I don’t need your faux sympathy or your positivity buzzword bullshit.”

Her brow furrows as she feels annoyance prickle at her. None of this is her fault, she’s just trying to offer support, yet despite that he is lashing out at her anyway. Her mouth opens, the words leaving it before she has the chance to consider them. “You are such a miserable fucking twat, no wonder Alys finished with you!”

She regrets what she said the moment she sees the fury blaze within his right eye. Instinctively, she steps away, her back hitting the wall as he advances towards her. And then his lips are crushing against hers, causing her to squeak in surprise as he kisses her hungrily, his large hand cupping her jaw. She grips the front of his shirt, his fists balling into the material, unsure of if she wants to pull him closer or push him away. But she finds herself responding, her mouth moving against his, lips parting to allow his tongue entrance, letting it lick against hers.

Nervousness and excitement swirl like a maelstrom in her belly. She could never have anticipated this. What the hell are they doing? Aemond hates her, doesn’t he?

When they finally part for air, their breathing is ragged. Aemond stares down at her, lips parted and pupil dilated. “Do you want to come upstairs?” He asks lowly.

The question makes her heart feel as though it has stopped beating. It’s one thing to kiss Helaena’s younger brother, but another entirely to entertain the idea of sleeping with him.

She falters, trying her best to speak coherently. “I…um…I don’t know if that’s a good idea…”

Aemond pulls back, his face hardening back to blank stoicism in an instant. She immediately feels the loss of him, the space that his warmth had previously occupied suddenly feeling chilly.

“Of course,” he mutters darkly, “I would hate to cut into the time you spend following my brother around like a pathetic dog.”

The statement makes her feel as though she has had a bucket of ice water thrown over her, hurt and humiliation spreading hotly throughout her body, as tears sting at the rims of her eyes. He disappears up the stairs before she can say anything in response, leaving her alone in the foyer to compose herself, wondering what on earth just happened.

She scrubs her hands over her face, drawing in a few steadying breaths, before turning to head back outside. Helaena is already in the kitchen, wrapping plates of food in cling film. She looks up when she sees her, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

“Need any help?” She asks.

“No, I’m all good. There’ll be leftovers in the fridge, if you want any.”

She utters a quiet thanks, before stepping outside, her eyes immediately drawn to Aegon who sits at the edge of the pool, paddling his feet, illuminated by only the pool lamps and soft fairy lights that are strung up around the garden. The sky hangs velvety black above them, stars twinkling in the distance.

Kicking off her flip flops, she sits beside him, dunking her own feet into the coolness of the water.

“Cassandra seemed pretty angry with you,” she says gently.

“Yeah,” Aegon replies, keeping his eyes fixed on the beer bottle he has clasped in both hands. “She’ll be back though.”

“You seem certain of that.”

“Well, I am irresistible,” he says, looking up at her with a grin. “And she’s left all her stuff here…”

She chuckles softly, facing forward again, a thousand things rushing through her mind that she wants to say to Aegon. Tonight couldn’t possibly get any messier, so why not speak her mind?

“Aegon…” she begins, unable to look at him, knowing the moment she does, all of her thoughts will unravel. “I think you know how I feel about you, why have we never…why won’t you…”

She sighs in frustration, unable to finish her train of thought, unsure of what it is she even wants to say. She dares to cast him a sideways glance and sees him anxiously chewing his lip, his thumbs picking at the label on the neck of the bottle.

“It’s not like I haven’t thought about it,” he finally admits, “you’re gorgeous. But you and I are never going to happen.”

She braces herself for the impact of the inevitable pain in her chest, but it never comes. Instead, she feels lighter. The final piece of closure she needs, permission to move on from the “what if” that has haunted her teenage years and entire adult life so far. Yet she cannot help her curiosity at his response.

“Why not?” She asks, turning to look at him.

He lifts his head, meeting her eye. “I said I wouldn’t, I made a promise.”

“To who?” She asks, brow furrowing in confusion.

“Aegon! You need to help me load the dishwasher,” Helaena calls out from behind them.

Aegon sighs, moving to stand, muttering “Christ, her last slave must have died of exhaustion” to himself as he walks away, leaving wet footprints on the patio behind him.

She is frustrated that Helaena interrupted them before Aegon could answer her, her curiosity piqued almost unbearably. As Aegon approaches Helaena, she hears her chastising him in a hushed tone, Aegon’s own defensive retort is also much quieter than his usual manner of speaking. She wonders what they’re arguing about, but quickly dismisses it. There has been enough conflict for one day.

Her thoughts drift back to Aemond and the kiss they had shared. She can still feel his lips lingering against hers if she focuses hard enough upon it. It had felt nice, she had kissed the man who hated her and actually enjoyed it. Then straight afterwards he had reminded her why she usually works so hard to avoid him. It was a fluke, not worth making a big deal of. She certainly wouldn’t be telling Helaena about it.

The following afternoon, her and Helaena laze around on beach towels that are laid upon the perfectly manicured lawn of the back garden, enjoying the warmth of the midday sun upon their skin.

As Aegon had predicted, Cassandra had shown back up at the house that morning, and their enthusiastic reconciliation had been what had prompted her and Helaena’s decision to relocate to the garden. Aemond hasn’t bothered to come back downstairs since insulting her the previous evening.

Helaena lays on her front, legs bent at the knee and ankles crossed. She plucks a foil packet from beneath her towel and tears it open, pulling out a blue and green gummy worm. She dangles it towards her, the hint of a smile upon her lips.

“Want to go halves?” She asks.

“On a sweet?!”

“An edible!”

“Oh Christ…no!”

“Suit yourself,” Helaena says with an easy shrug, stretching the worm between her teeth as she bites off the end.

“Think I need to keep a clear head, especially after last night.”

“Mmm,” Helaena concurs, chewing and swallowing her mouthful of gummy. “I saw you talking to Aegon. Please tell me you aren’t still pining after him?”

“No, actually,” she says honestly, “I think last night was the closure I finally needed.”

“Good,” Helaena says, eyeing her carefully. “So what’s really bothering you?”

She sighs, knowing there’s no point denying it. Helaena is too intuitive for that.

“I…um…Aemond and I…we kissed…”

Nervously, she looks over at her friend, awaiting her angry reaction. However, instead of the scowl she’d expected, Helaena is smiling.

“And…?” She asks excitedly.

Why is she not more surprised by this? Shouldn’t she be annoyed?

“And nothing. I insulted him, he kissed me out of anger, then he insulted me when I wouldn’t sleep with him. He’s been sulking in his room ever since.”

“Go and make him apologise,” Helaena urges her.

“Why should I? He owes me an apology, he should come to me.”

“That’s not Aemond’s style. You’re both as stubborn as each other. Just go up to his room!”

“Why are you so eager for me to make up with him?”

“Because…” Helaena trails off, and for a moment she thinks she’s lost her train of thought, until she holds up the rest of the gummy worm with a smile. “Because I want to finish this and you’re harshing my buzz!”

Charming.

She has a point though, she supposes. She has made amends with one brother this week, it wouldn’t hurt to repair things with the other too.

“Fine, fine, I’m going,” she says with a sigh, standing up and brushing herself off.

As she ascends the stairs towards the upper level of the house, it’s quiet, save for the soft sounds of music and Cassandra’s giggles coming through Aegon’s closed bedroom door. She pauses as she reaches Aemond’s room, her heart hammering in her chest, and nausea swirling in her gut as she stands outside, desperately trying to steel herself to knock.

What would she say? Would he even want to speak to her?

She takes a deep breath, attempting to push through the anxiety and knocks softly. She hears shuffling from the other side, before the door pulls slowly open. Aemond’s long silver hair is loose, and he’s dressed in a plain black t-shirt and black jogging bottoms. He looks effortlessly flawless, despite how casually he’s dressed.

Has he always looked this good? How had she never noticed before?

He bows his head slightly when he sees it’s her, a flicker of sadness briefly visible in his eye before he casts his gaze downward.

“Can I come in?” She asks softly.

He nods, stepping back to allow her in, closing the door behind her.

She’s never been in Aemond’s room before. It’s flooded by natural light from the large bay windows, and everything is immaculately neat and tidy, from the orderly shelves of books, to how taut his bedsheets are pulled against the mattress. Everything has its place.

“I owe you an apology,” she begins, turning to face him.

His eyebrows raise, eye widening in surprise. “Me?”

She nods. “I should never have pried into your personal life, what happened between you and Alys is your business and I had no right to ask about it or pass comment on it. I’d really like it if we could just forget what happened yesterday and start again.”

“What if I don’t want to forget about it?” He asks, stepping closer.

Her heart sinks, disappointment making her shoulders sag. “You don’t?”

He shakes his head, looming over her, his breath ghosting against her skin as he speaks. “There’s a particular moment that I’m very keen to remember.”

Her skin grows warm, her breath hitching as he reaches up, his fingertips ghosting against the side of her neck. “Or are you still chasing after my brother like a pathetic little bitch?”

This time his words don’t offend, instead they send a shiver up her spine, her mouth going dry as his eye bores into hers.

“N–no,” she stammers, her pulse racing as his hand rests against her neck, his stare dark and intense. “I don’t like him like that anymore. I think I’d known that for a while, but him telling me it was never going to happen helped me to realise that.”

“Mmmm,” Aemond hums softly, leaning in, “I’m glad that Aegon is a man of his word.”

His lips ghost against hers, but she freezes as his words echo in her mind alongside his brother’s.

I’m glad that Aegon is a man of his word.

I said I wouldn’t, I made a promise.

She pulls back sharply, brow furrowed as she stares at Aemond suspiciously. “Was it you that Aegon made a promise to, to never try anything with me?”

Aemond nods, reaching for her again, sighing as she steps away. “It was years ago. I made him promise me he’d leave you alone, because well…I like you, and he’s not good enough for you.”

Her mouth falls open in disbelief, her voice a tight sounding whisper as she struggles to keep her emotions in check. “You had no right to do that…”

“I was protecting you,” he says softly, “he wouldn’t have been good to you.”

“And you would have?!” She responds, voice wavering around the rapidly forming lump in her throat. “You’ve spent years ignoring me, only interacting to be hateful. How the fuck is that protecting me?!”

“You don’t understand—”

“No, you don’t understand!” She cries, her chest tightening as hot tears roll down her cheeks. “If you liked me you should’ve said something, what you’ve done instead is manipulative and cruel.”

She pushes past Aemond, slamming his bedroom door behind him, before heading to Helaena’s room where she’s been staying since she arrived. Curling up on her side of the bed, her shoulders shake as she sobs quietly into the pillow, a hot swirl of anger, sadness and betrayal coursing through her body.

How dare he? How fucking dare he? What might’ve been if she’d just been given a chance with Aegon? What might’ve been if Aemond had voiced his feelings for her sooner? He had robbed her of the opportunity to find out any of it.

When the door eventually creaks open, she is unsure of how many hours she has been laying there. She has cried herself out, a hollow feeling having settled in her chest, numbness replacing the hurt and anger she’d felt previously.

“Hey,” Helaena says softly, the mattress dipping slightly as she sits upon the edge of it. “Brought you a sandwich, cheese and Marmite.”

“What time is it?” She asks groggily, pulling herself into a sitting position, as she gratefully accepts the plate from her.

“Just gone six. Figured there’s no point in us all doing dinner together tonight…”

“Sorry,” she whispers sadly, “I’ve fucked this whole week up.”

“You haven’t,” Helaena says earnestly, “none of this is your fault. Aemond has just chosen the worst possible way to tell you he has feelings for you.”

“You know?!” She asks, the warmth of embarrassment heating the apples of her cheeks.

“Please don’t be upset. Aemond’s always had a thing for you, I’ve always known. For what it’s worth, I think you guys would be great together.”

“Great together?! No offense, Hel, but your brother’s a tool.”

“He can be, yeah. But you’re more alike than you think. You just need to see beneath the tough guy exterior.”

She shakes her head. “Until this week he’s either ignored me or been awful to me.”

“Aemond isn’t the best at expressing how he feels, but he’s trying. I’ve gotten tired of watching him pine for you for so long, and make himself miserable never doing anything about it. I told him that if he didn’t say anything this week then I’d tell you myself.”

Her eyes widen, the confession taking her breath away. “Hel…”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be meddling, and I know Aemond shouldn’t have interfered with Aegon. But honestly, you can do so much better.”

“And you think Aemond is better?”

“He could be, if you gave him the chance.”

“All we do is argue.”

“Because you’re so alike! You just need to listen to each other.”

She chews her lip, mulling over Helaena’s words. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to hear him out. But not tonight. Tonight my only interests are this sandwich and whatever crap we can find on Netflix.”

“Sounds good to me,” Helaena replies happily.

They spend the rest of the evening curled up in Helaena’s bed, watching a nature documentary that they eventually fall asleep in front of.

It’s early when she awakens. She can’t see the time, but can tell from the pastel hue of the lightened sky visible through the window, where she and Helaena had fallen asleep without closing the curtains, that sunrise wasn’t long ago.

Eager to stretch her limbs, having been cooped up in the same room for more than twelve hours, she disentangles herself from her still sleeping friend, and pads downstairs.

The aroma of brewing coffee lures her towards the kitchen, but she stops in her tracks when she spots Aemond, his back to her as he stands in front of the coffee maker. For a moment she considers just going back upstairs, until he turns and sees her.

Wordlessly, they stare at each other, time feeling as though it stretches on for an eternity, before finally he speaks.

“Coffee?”

“Um…sure.”

He nods, turning to grab the espresso cup from the drip tray before sliding it across the kitchen island to her. “Take this one.”

She utters a quiet thanks, perching on a bar stool as she wraps her hands around the warmth of the small ceramic vessel. The only sounds in the kitchen are that of Aemond preparing another coffee for himself. She’s grateful they both have something other than each other to focus on, as truthfully she doesn’t know what to say.

“Valar morghulis was how they said it in Valyria of old. All men must die. And the Doom came and proved it true,” he recites as he turns back to her, placing his own coffee upon the counter.

“What?” Her brows pull together in confusion as she looks up at him from her cup.

“You wrote that in the history essay that you shared with me back when we were at school. That particular line has always stuck with me. I thought it was inspired.”

Her heart feels as though it skips a beat, realising he has remembered such a small detail, but it is contradictory to the reality of his reaction to it. “You said it was derivative.”

“That was unkind. I regret it,” he tells her sincerely. “Truthfully, it was brilliant. I’ve never read anything like it.”

“Why were you so rude about it then?”

“An attempt to push you away, I suppose.”

“Why?”

He sighs, taking a long sip of his coffee, looking pensive as he casts his eye away from her, choosing his words carefully. “You’re too good for Aegon, he has spent his entire life failing upwards, being given things he hasn’t earned, taking what I work hard for. I couldn’t let him take you too. But you’re also too good for me. I already thought you were perfect, and was trying so hard to keep you at arm’s length. I think I fell harder for you after reading your essay, and that scared me. You deserve better than me, but I can’t seem to let you go. I lost interest in Floris because she wasn’t as intelligent as you are, and Alys ended things with me because she could tell how hung up on you I am.”

She groans exasperatedly. “Am I seriously the last person to know that you have feelings for me?”

“I’m sorry. I’ve spent a long time hiding it, but now my cards are fully on the table. I’m being as honest as I can be. I didn’t intend for you to ever find out. I wanted to get over you. I didn’t think that you’d be interested.”

“Did it never occur to you to ask?”

“I’m asking now.”

“I…I’ve never thought about you that way, to be honest, not until you kissed me…”

“...and then?”

“I think I could…”

“So is that a yes?”

“You’ve not actually asked me anything…”

He rolls his eye. “I’m pouring my heart out here. Meet me halfway.”

She huffs a soft laugh. “I think we should take things slowly. Let me get to know the Aemond that’s not a massive arsehole. Can you handle that?”

“I can handle that.”

The air feels lighter somehow as they both sip their coffee, a peacefulness having settled over the two of them, rooted in mutual hope and excitement.

Over the next couple of days, her and Aemond spend more time together. He makes more of a conscious effort to include himself when she and Helaena hang out in communal spaces. They stay up all night talking, and when they’re alone together he intertwines his fingers with hers, asking her to read to him as he rests his head in her lap. They never go further than a few soft kisses, but she finds herself falling asleep cuddled up to him each night, instead of in Helaena’s bed.

It’s disconcerting to peer behind the iron facade of Aemond Targaryen, this softer, kinder, gentle hearted side is one she’s never seen before. Yet the more she gets to know it, the more she grows to like it. It’s something deeper, more intimate than anything she had ever felt for Aegon, and she realises this is because it surpasses mere infatuation, and her feelings are reciprocated.

It’s Saturday evening, and Aegon’s party is close to becoming out of control. The heavy bass of the music reverberates throughout the house, and Royce has provided more kegs than everyone in attendance combined could ever be able to drink in a single night. Every downstairs room, as well as the garden, bustles with people – most of whom she doesn’t know.

Despite this, she is having fun. Her, Helaena and Aemond have kept within their own little bubble, talking and laughing as they pass wine between them, slugging it directly from the bottle. The more she and Aemond drink, the closer they shift towards one another on the sofa, until eventually one of her legs ends up slung over the top of his.

Her mind feels fuzzy from the effects of the alcohol, spreading a warmth throughout her body. She feels happy, she can’t remember the last time she felt this content.

As the evening presses on, Aegon stumbles over to them, a few of his friends trailing after him. She can tell from his glassy eyed expression that he’s drunk. He sways slightly on his feet as he stands in front of them all, taking in the sight of her and Aemond sitting close together.

“There they are!” He slurs. “The happy couple!”

“Has your little brother got himself a girlfriend, Aegon?” His friend pipes up from behind him.

“My cast off, actually,” he says, gesturing towards her with his glass, slopping beer onto the living room floor as he does so.

“Watch yourself,” Aemond says darkly. She feels him tense beneath her, rapidly growing angry.

“Shouldn’t you be thanking me, Aemond?” He asks, cocking his head. “I let you have her! So, come on, the least you can do is let us know what she’s like in the sack!”

“Shut your fucking mouth,” Aemond hisses through gritted teeth.

“Stop it, both of you,” Helaena says pleadingly.

She grasps Aemond’s hand, a vain attempt to calm him, as Aegon laughs hysterically with his friends.

“You’ve not fucked her yet, have you?! Will she not put out? Still holding out hope for me?!”

She squeaks in surprise as Aemond stands abruptly, towering over Aegon as he squares up to him. “I said, shut. Your. Fucking. Mouth.”

“Why?” Aegon asks with a careless shrug. “Truth hurt, does it? Because let’s face it, she couldn’t be with me, so she settled for you. Second best.”

With an angry snarl, Aemond shoves Aegon, sending him toppling backwards into his friends, stunning the room into silence as he storms from it.

Her blood runs cold, her heart drumming wildly against her ribcage as she exchanges a horrified glance with Helaena, before hurrying after Aemond, who is already retreating up the stairs two at a time.

He is pacing his room, his breathing ragged as she follows him in, shutting the door and muffling the sound of the party below them.

“Ignore your twat of a brother,” she says soothingly, “he’s drunk, he doesn’t know what he’s saying.”

Aemond shakes his head, and the look of hurt she sees reflected in his eye as he looks at her makes her heart squeeze painfully. “He’s right. You’re only with me because you couldn’t have Aegon.”

“He’s wrong.” She steps towards him, taking his hands in hers, “I couldn’t be happier with the way things have turned out. What I feel for you…it’s real. You’ve made me happier in two days than Aegon ever has in ten years.”

“Do you really mean that?” He whispers.

He looks so vulnerable, so sad as he looks down at her that it makes her want to cry.

“Every word,” she utters, leaning up on tiptoes to kiss him softly, her fingers caressing his cheek. “You’re so good, Aemond, so good to me.”

He rests his forehead against hers, wrapping his arms around her waist as he pulls her close, his eye fluttering closed. “I want to believe that.”

“I’ll make you,” she whispers, tugging him by the front of his shirt as she steps back towards the bed.

They topple onto the bedspread, laying on their sides, facing each other. Her grip on his shirt tightens as she kisses him again, deeper this time, her tongue lapping delicately against his, taking her time with it, allowing him to feel every movement of her lips against his.

When she pulls away, she trails her lips over the sharpness of his jaw and down the column of his throat, her fingers working deftly to open his buttons as she does so, caressing every inch of his bare torso as it’s revealed to her.

“You’re so beautiful,” she whispers against his neck, feeling him shiver against her, his rapidly growing hardness pressing against her thigh through his jeans.

“Fuck,” he murmurs, as her hands move to his belt buckle, pulling it open.

“I want you,” she whispers, “more than I’ve ever wanted anyone.”

He groans, fingers digging into the flesh of her hip, screwing his eye shut as she moves her hand beneath the waistband of his underwear.

Her core throbs with arousal as she strokes the velvety soft flesh of his hardened cock, eagerly wrapping her fingers around it, pumping softly, earning a sharp hiss of pleasure from him.

She pushes his underwear down far enough to free his erection, before hooking a leg over his hip and tugging the thong beneath her dress to one side.

“Feel what you do to me,” she says huskily, dragging the head of him through the stickiness that has gathered between her thighs.

Aemond inhales sharply, hips jerking at the sensation, and she smiles at the effect she’s having on him, his breaths coming fast and shallow.

“I want you inside me,” she coos, “will you let me?”

He swallows thickly, pupil dilated with desire as he nods enthusiastically. “Fuck…yes…”

She positions him at her entrance, angling her hips to encourage him to press forward. All of the air feels as though it is forced from her lungs as he pushes into her, the stretch of her body around him is exquisite torture.

“Mmmm…so big,” she murmurs, stroking his hair, feeling him smile in response against the skin of her shoulder. She can tell from the way he’s tensing that he’s holding his breath, every part of him sinking inside of her as intense for him as it is for her.

Once he is fully sheathed inside, she winds her arms around his neck. His grip on her hip is iron clad as he uses his other hand to pull down the straps of her dress and her bra, pressing his face into her breasts as they slowly begin to rock their hips together.

Their pace is unhurried, less about the act itself and more about providing closeness and comfort to each other, and she knows that Aemond is in desperate need of both right now.

His thrusts are shallow as she rolls her hips in time with his, her fingers stroking softly through the silken strands of his hair as he nuzzles into her chest, sighing softly against her flesh with every praise and word of affirmation that she utters softly to him.

She doesn’t care if he brings her to release, she wants tonight to be about Aemond, to make him feel special. When he eventually comes undone, spilling himself inside of her as he pulsates and trembles, her heart flutters as he stares at her, eye filled with nothing but adoration.

Summer has always been her favourite time of year, and thanks to Aemond she’s certain it always will be.

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targaryenrealnessdarling · 6 days ago

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

12 Days of Smuff Masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And everyone else noticed.

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

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

“Watch your mouth, Aegon.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sit.”

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

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

“Don't play dumb.”

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

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

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

"Oh, I'm not mad."

"What then?" she asked lightly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Leave them on.”

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

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@emmaisafictionwhore @eponaartemisa @hb8301 @jamespotterismydaddy @justbelljust

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lionneee · 5 months ago

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When Aemond is exhausted

Masterlist

Taglist

English is not my first language, please be kind

Modern!MafiaBoss!Aemond x fem!Reader

•Warnings: oral (male), smut, kissing, taking of sexual themes, boobjob, tits licking, (basically worshipping breasts), mention of killing someone.•

“Come on, Aemond…” You hummed as you looked down, your eyes half closed, your mind fuzzy by the alcohol. You caressed the back of his head as he pushed his face further between your tits, kissing, licking, sucking and biting every inch of skin he could reach.

But he wanted everything.

“Shut up, will you?” He mumbled against your skin, his tongue darting out between your breast and your top, touching your nipple, that immediately went hard under his light touch. You wrapped your hands around his neck as you shifted closer on his lap, hugging his face closer to your chest with a small moan.

You knew he had an exhausting day, enough to not even be able to take you and fuck you properly. The music of his club came low in the background, his office lights were low, the desk a mess.

Even his hair was all massy when you first walked in tonight, him who was always composed, elegant and a perfectionist.

His hair was even more messy now, but that was entirely your fault. One of his hands cupped the side of your tit, pushing it towards your face as his other hand moved under your wavy skirt, gripping tightly the skin of your ass, squeezing it in his hand. You moaned again, grinding slowly on the bulge you felt raising under your core, pushing Aemond’s face as close as you could.

You knew he loved when you did that, you even got worried in the past about how he could breathe so buried in your boobs, but he never complained once, instead he sometimes scolded you for talking nonsense.

He growled as he dug his fingers in your skin, his hand on your ass sproning you to keep grinding on him, as the other moved to tug down your top harshly, enough to hear some stitches ripping.

Your boobs sprang free and you could see Aemond’s eye basically sparkle at the sight, but it only lasted a moment, before he closed his mouth around your nipple, sucking hard, slowly taking more of your breast in his mouth, as his hand take care of the other, pinching it harshly, just like he knew it would have made you crazy.

“Oh, you’re so lucky I’m not on my pre-cycle period or I would have punched you…” You moaned as you kept staring down at him, so concentrated on your breast he barely even looked up at you when he hummed in response.

“Sir.” The door of his office behind you opened, but Aemond never relented, his attention started loyally on your body. You turned your head to the side to look at the guard that just entered, that immediately casted his gaze on the floor.

He wouldn’t have seen anything anyway, if not a bit of your ass because Aemond kept raising your skirt, and your back. He was lucky, because Aemond would have probably gouged his eyes off if he saw anything more.

“Sir…” The guard repeated, less convinced.”They caught someone of the rivalry here…” He explained as he refused to look up.

He didn’t say anything more, so the only sounds filling the room were coming from Aemond’s mouth, still attached to your tits, like an infant sucking for milk. You could already see some red and purple marks on your breasts, some of them along with the signs of his teeth.

He was really exhausted.

“Leave. Now.” You said as you looked back at Aemond, you could see him completely lost in your body, he probably didn’t even hear the guard coming in. You arched your back to push more your chest towards his face, making him moan as he moved his mouth to your other boob, sucking it immediately, eagerly, tilting his head back as if lost in pleasure.

God he was so cute when he was like this.

“But, Miss…” The guard contested. “The man…”

You heard Aemond groan as he gripped tightly the skin of your ass, forcing you to grind faster on him, and you quickly obliged, your arms around his head and neck tightening.

“Kill him, or whatever. Leave.” You repeated more firmly, not leaving doubts for any other questions as you started to pant, slipping your hand in Aemond’s hair making them even more messy.

“Of course, excuse me.” You head the door open and close again.

Aemond didn’t raise his head when he used his hand to pull down the straps of your top, so he could lower it even more. He leaned back on the chair, each of his hands palming freely each of your tits, squeezing them as he wanted, harder or more softly. He looked up at you and he widened his legs, and you immediately understood his prompt, so you raised on your knees and got off his lap, kneeling down under his gaze.

He nodded to you to continue, spreading his legs open, his bulge more than evident, the lines of his cock well evident. Your mouth watered at the sigh, and you immediately opened his belt and pants, tugging them down with his boxers, so his long, pale and veiny cock could spring free, for you to admire.

You immediately wrapped your hand around it, filing how it pulsated under your touch. You smiled as you saw a bit of precum on his tip, leaning on to lick it, as you looked up at him through your eyelashes with an innocent face.

You saw his nostril flare as he looked down at you, his hand slapping lightly the side of your tit. You whined softly, raising up on your knees and taking your boobs in your hands, trapping his cock between them. He immediately let out a deep breath, leaning comfortably on his desk chair, his hips shifting further on his seat.

“Yeah, baby…” He huffed as he locked his eye on your tits, as you let a string of saliva fall down on his cock, so you could start to move up and down slowly, always pushing your breast together more firmly when his tip disappeared in them. He moaned loudly, his hands gripping the armrest so tightly it looked like he wanted to break it. You kept spitting saliva on his cock as you started moving a bit faster, bending down your head and licking his tip every time you had the chance.

“Take it in your mouth.” He ordered as he kept looking at you in awe, tilting his head to the side as he kept staring at you. You hummed and wrapped your lips around his tip sucking hard, making him thrust his hips up by the pleasure you were giving him.

“Fuck yes…” He groaned as he shifted closer to the edge of his seat, quickly put his hand over yours, his were bigger, and held more of your tits in them, he pulled you closer, planted his feet on the floor and started to trust up between your breasts. He let go of one of your boobs only to push your head down, forcing you to take his cock in your mouth every time it emerged, then his hand flew back to its place, his fingers digging in your skin.

You moaned around him, sucking eagerly his cock, wanting to make him feel so good after such a bad day. The room was filled now with obscene sounds that kept coming out of your mouth, wet noises mixed with your moans and his.

“Oh fuck– F-fuck… You’re gonna make me come, baby…” He grunted as he squeezed your breast even more in his hands almost to a painful point, but you didn’t pull back, you wanted to give him everything he wanted to take. You hollow your cheeks, slipping one of your hands from under his, grabbing his balls and squeezing them gently, massaging them in your hand. He growled loudly.

“Fuck! Fuck, baby– I-I’m gonna come–” He panted, thrusting his hips furiously between your tits, looking down at how his cock disappeared and appeared again between them. You looked up at him, looking how he was completely lost in pleasure, his eyebrows arched and his mouth open.

Godly.

You moved your hand lower, touching the skin that connected his balls to his butthole, pressing two of your fingers on the soft skin, watching how his body jerked at the unexpected touch.

“No, shit– Ah, baby…” He moaned loudly. You smiled around him as you slowly moved your finger even lower, pressing right against his little hole, watching how his eye shut as you felt his sperm filling your mouth with that warm, familiar taste. You swallowed with a smirk, letting go of him as he leaned back on the chair, spent as you kept licking his cock like a lollipop, cleaning him as best you could.

He looked down at you, slipping a hand in your hair, caressing your head gently. You looked up at him as you traced the underside of his cock with your tongue. He chuckled and grabbed you by under your arms to lift you up back on his lap.

You smiled as you caressed his hair and face.

“Do you want to sleep here?” You asked softly, looking down at you as he nodded, fixing your top.

“I’ll get it done, you open the bed.” You said gently as you stood up, locking the door to the office as he fixed himself back in his pants, going over the couch to open the hidden bed. You took off your heels, top and skirt, staying only in your panties, as you stood in front of him, waiting for him to take off his shirt so you could put it on. He smirked as he looked down at you, taking his time to take off his tie, then slowly undid every button of his shirt, his eye roaming shamelessly all over your body. You smiled back at him, holding your hands behind him, confident with your body in front of him. He finally took off his shirt, coming closer to you, bending down to kiss you as he put it over your shoulders.

“Thank you.” You smiled as you pulled back, starting to button it up. Aemond watched you from above you, stopping your hands the moment you started to close the buttons over your breasts.

“Can’t sleep without my pillow, can I?” He leaned down, his forehead touching yours as he undid a couple of buttons.

You liked when he was like this. When he completely let go of his facade of an angry, cold, mafia boss and let himself be a sweet loving boyfriend.

He picked you up in his arms, walking over the bed and laying you down on it, following you immediately after, resting his head on top of your tits, his arms around your waist.

“I love you.” You whispered as you saw him closing his eye, ready to fall asleep. “You’re cute.” You said lower then, more to yourself than to him. “I love you.” He mumbled back, hugging you tighter. “But never call me like that again.”

Taglist: @ka1afbr @cynic-spirit @ladythornofrivia @zenka69 @queenofthekeep @adorewhatever @diannnnsss @kotadislikesthissite @iloveallmyboys @valyrianflower @dixie-elocin @gelacat0413 @quinquinquincy @mamawiggers1980 @darylandbethfanforever9 @rhaethoughts @believeinthefireflies95

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aemondwhoresworld · 7 months ago

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uh.. well.. hmmm.. if that scar look like this, to be more specific if he’s aemond targaryen :))))

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happilyhertale · 6 days ago

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Advent Desires – Modern Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader

Summary: You are spending the evening with your friend Aemond. But you are bored while Aemond is absorbed in his book – but you have your ways of getting his attention.

Pairing: Modern Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader

Warnings: Smut; 18+; NSFW; Sex (p in v)

Author’s note: English is my second language, please forgive me if I made any mistakes (:

Word count: 1.4k