Text
Watching Agatha All Along Maiden Mother Crone
AGATHA SPOILERS!!
OH MY GOD I HEAR NATURE IS IT A FLASHBACK
OH MY GOD IT IS!!!!
Oooooooo is she giving birth?! Oh yup🥺
The way she cuts into a lemon to help her muffle her screams(and also keeping herself hydrated) 🥺
RIO?
The way Agatha is stuck and can't move and then Rio just approaches her slowly 😭
"please let him live, please my love!"
😭
Oh, Rio said she could give her some time😭😭😭 that's the special treatment that Agatha got😭
Oh my god😭 oh my god, she made him from scratch 😭 I love her so much more but man that hurts
Because Rio looked truly torn😭
The way Agatha carries him is so fucking cute😭
Aw he's not feeling well 😭😭
Oh no, Agatha is so right to be unnerved by the witches approaching herz they give creepy vibes
Oh nope nevermind they were decent she just ate their power
Nicolas is so cute oh my god😭
Oh man Agatha, you had to have your child become apart of your hustle 😭
The way she's a little bothered by his questions
Aw her little teasing until he changed the tune of the song to include her😭
Oh no🥺 water🥺 I feel like he drowns🥺
I love how they're vibing with the goat
"Use your purple."
"My what?"
"Your purple!" They're adorable
Oh my god the way she says she can't protect him from when Rio will return and then had to turn away as she cried so he wouldn't see😭
Aw, the clips of them making memories while singing is killing me 😭🥺
He reminds me so much of young Billy
Awwww him singing in the bar is so cute oh my god, Agatha pretending to be a stranger
Aw, the way Nicky ran away 😭😭
The way he promises his mom that that they can kill more witches tomorrow 😭 my poor boy
The way he seems worried she's gonna yell at him but instead she starts singing 😭
My poor boy is sick😭 oh no, he's gonna fall asleep but not wake up😭😭😭 I just feel it in my bones
Rio🥺
The way Rio looks like she's holding back tears as she becons him towards her😭
The way she made him go back to kiss Agatha 😭😭
Noooooo my girl is waking up without him there
Wait, no he's still there🥺 but she his body🥺
Oh my god🥺😭😭😭😭😭😭
Her cries break my heart
Her take on the song is heartbreaking and the way she buries her heart with her child makes her ruthlessness in killing witches even more painful
The witches road doesn't exist oh my god👀
I am SCREAMING
That's why she tried to deny the existence of it to Billy oh my god😭
I'm screaming oh my god
Wait, was Agatha just trying to make Billy think she was dead so he would move on👀
I love her outfits so much oh my god
The way she just upped her hustle
I LOVE ALL HER OUTFITS I'M SCREAMING
But that means she killed Alice's mom👀
I love her Rock outfit so much tho
That's why she made Billy go upstairs 👀 she was gonna kill them👀
And why she was so shocked by the door actually appearing oh my god👀
I bet that's when she realized who he may be👀
I am so happy Agatha is alive
Wait what
She's a ghost?
The way she's laughing about being a ghost
She looks like the comic I'm screeching
The way she looks like she wants to touch him or something to comfort him when he's rambling
The way Agatha still doesn't remember Sharon 😂
The way she's trying to offer him comfort, in that he saved a life (Jennifer's)🥺
I really hope Agatha pops up occasionally as a ghost to cause misgeif
The way she admits she was gonna kill them all from day one😂
The way she repeats the words she said to her son🥺
Oooooooooooo he went to Agatha's house🥺
THE BASEMENT 👀
Oh the door is still there👀
Agatha lounging on the washing machine is hilarious 😂 but also what happens to her rabbit
Oh🥺 she is only there cause she wants her locket 👀
The way she's just getting more irritated that he's ignoring her😂
The way she's trying to guess what the magic is😂 she's always getting stumped by Wanda and her kids lol
The way she doesn't want him to banish her🥺 and she's getting upset
Oh my god🥺 the way she managed to knock her locket out of his hand🥺😭 because she can't face her son😭😭😭
Aw man
I really like to think that Rio has been taking care of Nicky on the other side🥺
Aw😭 the way she says that Billy reminds her of him😭
Aw, the way he says she could be his spirit guide 🥺
The way she gives him the warning that she tends to kill her coven members
Aw, he created a shrine in their honor I'm sobbing 😭
Her proud, sad smile😭🥺
OH MY GOD THEY'RE GONNA FIND TOMMY!!!!!!
Ok, I'm ok they killed Agatha because it was just her body they killed.
#thesevenwondersofawitch watches#agatha all along#agatha harkness#agatha x rio#agatha all along spoilers#agatha spoilers#agatha coven of chaos#rio vidal#agatha and rio#agatha x death#kathryn hahn#watching Agatha All Along#reactions#billy kaplan#billy maximoff#william kaplan
21 notes
·
View notes
Text
Scrolling through the “anti Viserys I” tag is something that can be so personal and beautiful
#the dance is 90% his fault and I will die on that hill#every time I start to like him I just remember#“You do not mention our talks to Rhaenyra#and my heart just breaks a little more for alicent#also HE IS THE KING#if he was “pressured” into remarrying a child then he is WEAK#and that’s all without mentioning aemma#that’s another child he married#seriously he’s worse than daemon#that woman went through pregnancy after pregnancy until she physically couldn’t#AND THEN HE KILLED HER#I loathe this man so much#anti viserys i targaryen#house of the dragon#alicent hightower#aemma arryn
72 notes
·
View notes
Text
🦋💕🦋💕🦋
#;windy’s edit#hxh#killua#hunter x hunter#killua zoldyck#KI IS THE CUTEST ALICE PERIOD#ALICE IN WONDERLAND WHO NO ITS ALL KI#PERIOD#HE IS THE MOST PRECIOUS#ZOMG HES SO PRECIOUS MY HEART AHHHHHHHHHH#CUTEST LITTLE BABEY EVER#HES SO PRETTY#GASSSPS I JUST AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH#GON WOULD HOLD HIS HAND OUT LIKE A PRINCE FOR KI TO TAKE AND AHHHHH#KI WOULD TAKE IT SO CUTELY AND SHYLY AND AHHHHHHH#GON WOULD BE A GENTLEMAN AHHHHH HELPING KI ACROSS BUMPY TERRAIN I JUST#SLAMS HANDS DOWN ON TABLE KIS JUST SO FUCKING CUTE AND PRECIOUS OMG#I WOULD DO ANYTHING FOR HIMMMMM#INCLUDING USE AN OLD IPAD SO I CAN HAVE MY PHOTOSHOP MIX#THEY CANNOT TAKE IT FROM ME ITS ALL I HAVE EVER KNOW I BLED AND SWEAT LEARNING TO EDIT ON THAT#Nothing will ever stop me from making these not low engagement apps breaking! Nothing! THEY MAKE ME SO HAPPY THAT IS ENOUGH and I’m really#THEY MAKE ME SO HAPPY#ITS SO HARD CHOOSING ONE ICON HES SO FRICKIN CUTEEEE#Okie it’s more like 2 BUT ANHHHHH#LOOKATHIM LOOOOK AT HIM WAS WORTH THE SOUL I PUT IN#HE IS SO CUTE I JUST#DIES HAPPILY OMG AHHHHHHHHHH HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH#HES JUST SO PRECIOUS AND CUTE#AHHH I JUST AHHH KIS SO CUTEEEE
23 notes
·
View notes
Text
i kinda forgot how mochizuki does expressions so well that they speak more than texts in an image
esp for someone like oz who has identity crisis going on for him that he doesn't really care who he is as a person so long as it makes others happy (the way later he could care less if people see him as jack the hero rather than just oz)
but the shock in oz's expression as though he had been read so clearly by sharon's words.
also idk it never crossed my mind while i was rereading, but i love that this is just in chapter 2 -- that things would go bad if oz should ever lose sight of himself
bc that's the gist of oz's whole character arc, inching away from just being whatever people want him to be, shying away from his emotions, and accepting himself and what it means to be himself - emotions and past - alike.
#'avil why are you reading pandora hearts again' girl's depressed. turns to comfort media.#tbh im kinda surprised though that i can still pick up new stuff with oz bc oz is my big comfort character#however i also feel like i know /enough/ that i didnt think id pick up more#the treasure lies in the little details lol#also yeah im just liveblogging/trying to infodump to cheer myself up lmao#feel free to block the liveblog tag idk how long ill be reading ph today before i switch to things i should probably be working on#anyways#the thing about oz is that hes always rejected himself#you see it in the way he talks to break about himself#or like. he hates himself so much that he rejects alice and gilbert later down the line when he finds out the truth about himself#to lose sight of himself like that means the end#i guess for me his story has always been about growth from that and it feels nice to fall back into that and watch him grow#anyways if i turn into an oz blog. you know lmao#avil reads ph#i always wanted to reread ph again but the starting chapters are kinda too slow for me alksjdfalkh#just throw me straight into the isla yura arc and beyond#you know another thing though. that rejection of oz himself. parallel that with leo's rejection of self later that he hides away and allows#oswald to take over blahblah#*i dont think this makes sense im just blabbing now*
3 notes
·
View notes
Text
The Throne Was Meant For Us, My Dear
Aemond x Targaryen!Reader, mostly canon compliant (yes, people are still dying/getting maimed), heavy on the smut, incest (they are targaryens, obv), a little angst
9.5k words (buckle up)
You were born at the end of a long summer’s day, just as the last sliver of sun was sinking below the waves of the bay. Your sister was born on the same day, just after the sun had completely disappeared below the horizon. Twin Targaryen girls, Helaena and Jaenara, the second and third of Alicent Hightower’s children.
The summer has always held a special place in your heart - not only because of your nameday, but because of the way the heat of the day lingers in the air long after the sun has set. The sound of a warm breeze as it rustles through the courtyard flowers, spreading the lovely floral scent. The feeling of the sun on your skin - the taste of fresh fruit grown outside the city. You’ve always loved the summer. You love it especially now, the only thing making this godforsaken funeral bearable.
Next to you, Aegon snags two more glasses of wine from a passing serving girl, handing one to you with a limp wrist and a sigh. He downs half his glass in one long draught. “I don’t understand why Helaena.” He grumbles, gesturing to where she sits on the ground with his glass, the wine sloshing inside. “If I must marry at all, why not you?”
You take a long sip from your own glass, leaning back against the store railing overlooking the sea. Driftmark, while much more drab than the Red Keep, has one thing going for it - the pleasant smell of salt in the air, and the sound of the waves against the shore. “Our mother thinks that if we were to be wed, I would enable you.” You say.
Aegon snorts, finishing off his drink. “As if Helaena will do anything to stop me from my hedonistic desires.” He jokes, quoting Alicent. “If it’s not to do with grasshoppers, it’s not to do with her.”
You neglect to snicker along with him, simply pressing your lips to the rim of your glass as you watch your dear sister pass a spider back and forth between her hands, muttering under her breath. She’s always been something of a dreamer, your Helaena, something the rest of your family doesn’t seem to notice. But you, always in tune to your sister from the moment you were born, know. Threads of omniscience run through her mutterings, though deciphering them sometimes is beyond you.
“Some could say the same about you, with wine and whores.” You say, glancing knowingly at Aegon. “We all have our compulsions - some worse than others.”
“I only jest.” Aegon says, defensive. You can tell he’s getting drunker, his movements becoming more loose, his words louder.
“Hm.” You finish your glass, setting the empty cup on the railing beside you. “Is it truly in jest if you are the only one laughing?”
“Perhaps it is better that I marry Helaena instead of you.” Aegon says, leaning close enough that you can smell the wine on his breath. “You do have a way of inciting my annoyance, Jaenara. No, I do not think you would make a good wife.”
You lean even closer, all too ready to play Aegon’s game. Your teeth scrape over his ear as you retort, “No, you’ve always liked the ones who won’t fight back, haven’t you?”
The tension breaks as Aegon laughs, tossing his head back as he steps away, putting a respectable amount of distance between you again. You chuckle as well, until another voice - softer, younger - cuts through your chortling. Aemond.
“What’s funny?”
Aegon, not subtle at all, rolls his eyes. “Nothing.”
“We were just discussing Aegon’s betrothal.” You say, shifting so that Aemond can lean against the railing beside you. You’ve never understood Aegon’s disdain for your baby brother - something your nephews seem to share. “Or rather,” You cast a joking look to Aegon. “Aegon was complaining about it.”
“‘Tis your duty.” Aemond says, ever so serious.
Aegon rolls his eyes again, gesturing widely at Helaena. “Look at her.”
“Aegon-” You start.
“I would do my duty, if only mother had betrothed us.” Aemond retorts.
Aegon flaps a hand. “The both of you.” He dismisses, eyes scanning through the thin crowd. “I’m going to get more wine.” And with that, he’s gone, sliding between chatting relatives in the wake of a serving girl, chasing after the wine she carries.
You place a hand atop Aemond’s head with a sigh, gently carding it through the silky silver hair there. “He can be such an ass, our brother.”
Aemond looks up at you with a thin smile. “Mm.”
The blood on your hands is not yours, but your brothers, smeared across your forearms from when you’d clutched his face in your hands, holding closed the gash across his eye with your thumbs as the maester stitched the wound back together. Now, he smears tears and snot across the bodice of your gown, the good side of his face pressed against the thin fabric of your nightclothes as he clutches you with shaking hands.
Your mother is screaming. Aegon is huddled against the wall of the room, no doubt already suffering a hangover from how much he drank. Helaena stands to your left, her eyes fixed on the wall behind the scene before her, gaze absent. You watch in horror as your mother wields a knife against Rhaenyra, spitting insults like venom. Ser Cole is pressed almost chest to chest with Daemon. Your little nephew, Lucerys’ face is bloodied.
You have no idea what happened. But Aemond is missing an eye. And Vhagar is now his dragon, instead of Laena’s daughters. You knew - known, now - that his lack of a dragon had always been a sore spot for Aemond, but you never would have guessed that he would go to such drastic measures to claim a beast of his own. And Vhagar, no less.
You expect him to cry, to whimper in pain, to react, but he just holds onto the gauzy fabric of your nightdress and keeps the unmarred side of his face pressed close to your chest. Hiding, almost.
You soothe a hand down his back, pressing him closer. “It’ll be alright.” You say, your voice lost amongst the carrying on. It won’t be. He’ll be scarred forever, he’ll have to re-learn how to walk, how to write, how to do anything that requires vision. It’ll take him years to recover fully.
“I know.” He says, voice soft. Level. Even.
And it’s his calm reassurance that makes you believe your own words. It will be alright, one way or another.
Hand in hand, you walk your brother through the halls of the Red Keep, towards the training yards, for his swordsmanship lessons. Servants and nobles alike avert their eyes as you pass, some out of respect, some out of disgust. It’s true - the scar across Aemond’s face is nothing delightful to look at, a motley of yellow and purple swollen skin, the scabs leaking pus. But you do not look away. He is your brother, and he receives enough torment from Aegon already.
He clutches your hand tightly, holding it like a bannister as he puts one foot in front of the other, his good eye steadfastly looking ahead. Sometimes his balance sways (especially around turns or on the steps) but he’s getting better. “You’ll be able to come and go as you please again soon.” You say, not bothering to hide the pride in your tone.
He scoffs. “I can’t stay a cripple forever.”
Aemond was never sweet. But the loss of his eye has only soured him more. You roll your eyes, teasing, “You’d do well to save your bitterness for someone who’s not capable of causing you to fall down the stairs at a moment's notice.”
It’s supposed to be a joke, but he doesn’t laugh. “Apologies, sister.” He mumbles.
You sigh. “I only joke, Aemond.” Aegon has ruined him, picking at all of his insecurities without remorse until he bristles at the slightest hint of humor, thinking an insult is coming.
His good eye shifts away from the hall in front of him for a moment to cast you a sidelong glance.
“Not all of us are Aegon.” You insist, rounding the corner with him to step outside into the afternoon sunlight. Ser Cole is already waiting, whirling his sword from hand to hand idly as Aegon straps himself into his practice armor. Aemond lets go of your hand as soon as he sees Aegon, taking shaky steps onto the field proper, alone.
Aegon pays him no mind, his gaze falling on you. “Jaenara. Come help me.”
“Your lack of manners is appalling.” You say, walking over to him anyway, taking the leather straps of his breastplate from him and tightening them over his shoulders. “What would mother say?”
Aegon just grins. “Meet me tonight.” He says, his voice dropping into a more conspiratorial register. He doesn’t have to say where - you’ve snuck out with him before. You know the route. “A traveling troupe has arrived in Flea Bottom, supposedly.”
“Sunset?” You ask, dropping your hands from the straps on his shoulders to the ones near his waist.
“Mm.” He watches you work, still grinning.
“Alright.” You say, stepping back.
His grin widens into a smile as he twirls his sword. “What fun we’ll have.”
The sun has begun to light the sky when you stumble back into the Red Keep with Aegon, giggling under your hoods as you sneak past the white cloaks back to your chambers. Really, it can barely be called sneaking anymore - you know they see you return, you know they saw you leave. The only reason they don’t trail you through the streets of the city is because Alicent doesn’t know, and hasn’t ordered them to, so why do the extra work?
You sway into Aegon’s shoulder as you walk, all the wine that you drank making your head spin. Taking you by the arm, he only makes it worse as he begins to waltz you down the hall, jauntily humming the same tune you’d been dancing to in a tavern earlier. Laughing like a fool, you tip your head back and let him dance you about, until he deposits you against the wall by your bedroom door, caging you in against the stone.
You know he’s going to kiss you - he always does, at the end of the night. Gently, he presses his lips to yours, and you smile into it. He doesn’t kiss you like he kisses his whores - nor do you kiss him as you do yours. It’s a chaste thing, only a moment before you’re both pulling back to look at each other.
“As sweet as wine.” He whispers.
“Mm.” You bite your lip in a grin. “Goodnight, Aegon.”
“Good morning.” He giggles, pushing away from the wall to stumble back to his own bed.
You slip into your own room, dropping your cloak and dress from your shoulders, one after the other, as soon as you are inside. Just in your shift, you turn to flop into the soft comfort of your bed, only to see a lump under the covers that wasn’t there when you left. Slowly, you peel back the sheets to reveal Aemond, face pressed into your pillow, soundly asleep.
You can’t help the smile that spreads across your lips as you climb into bed beside him, doing your best not to disturb his slumber. He stirs anyway though, good eye cracking open with a jolt, softening when he realizes it’s you. Extending an arm, you make space for him to curl up against your chest, and he does, tucking his face under your chin.
“You were with Aegon.” It’s mildly accusatory, but mostly sleepy.
“Mm.” You don’t deny it, stroking a hand through Aemond’s hair. “And you were here. In my bed.” You press your nose to the top of his head. “What troubles you, Aemond?”
“My eye.” He says. “The pain. It’s more than just the skin, it… it stabs me through the skull, sometimes. Makes it hard to fall asleep.”
“We will see the maesters in the morning.” You say, still gently stroking. “Perhaps they will be able to come up with some tincture to soothe you.”
He lets out a sleepy little hum, and settles more against you. Your own eyes flutter shut, and your stroking hand moves to wrap around his shoulders instead. It’s quiet, for a while, and for a moment you think he’s drifted off, but then,
“Will you take me with you, once?”
“To Flea Bottom?”
“Mm.”
You pause for a moment. “If you wish. Perhaps when you’re a bit older.”
“How old?”
“At least as old as I was when Aegon first took me with him.”
“And how old was that?”
You smile into his hair. “Give it a year.”
“Mm. Alright.”
The quality of Aemond’s eye improves drastically over the course of a year, so that by the time he dons his own cloak and takes to the streets of King’s Landing with you and Aegon, it almost blends into his face. The scar is a long pale thing that trails down his cheek, and the only part of the injury that escapes the eyepatch. Under the shadow of his hood, it’s barely noticeable.
He trails a half-step after you and Aegon, clearly unsure. You don’t blame him, it’s quite a change from within the walls of the Red Keep, but an exhilarating one at that. Arm in arm, you and Aegon lead the way, moving smoothly through the crowds to one of your favorite haunts, a little brothel tucked away near the edge of the city.
You can hear the sounds of pleasure emanating from within before you even step foot in the building, and the area around the door is crowded with hangers-on, men who can’t pay their whores dues. Aegon pushes through them all easily, and you glance back to make sure Aemond isn’t lost before following him inside.
The place reeks of incense, barely covering the smells of sweat and sex, but it’s familiar to you. On instinct, your eyes scan the crowd of the main chamber, searching for your favorite whore, a beauty named Falyse with long lashes and plump lips. You can feel Aemond pull closer to you in the presence of such debauchery, and you glance down at him again, to find him already looking at you.
“This is a brothel.” He says.
“Aye.” You grin, glancing at Aegon.
Aegon smiles wide, clapping Aemond on the shoulder. “Tonight is the night that you become a man, brother! Your first taste of the best pleasure the world can offer.”
Catching sight of a familiar shock of black hair, you turn, meeting Falyse’s eyes through the throngs of men. “I must take my leave.” You say, petting Aemond’s head. “But you are in good hands with Aegon. And I won't be far.”
“Alright.” Aemond says. He’s still unsure, clearly, but there’s no time for hesitation once Aegon’s swept Aemond up in his frenzy. You slip away, weaving through the writhing bodies until you reach the other side of the room, where Falyse is pouring a glass of wine for another patron. She’s barely clothed, so you can feel the goosebumps that rise when you snake an arm around her middle and rest your chin on her shoulder.
“Princess.” She greets you with a sultry purr.
“My lady.” You return, laying your lips in the junction of her neck. “I’ve missed you so.”
She’s quick to pull you away from the main room, behind a thick curtain to an empty bed. It’s a familiar dance that you do - she makes a show of ridding you of your clothes, running her soft hands up and down your body until you’re dripping. Then she lays her mouth on you - her wonderful mouth that could pull honey from even the most stalwart of noble women. She never lets you rest with only one peak, no she delights in working as many from you as she can, until you’re pushing her away. Then it’s your turn to return the favor, licking at her until her sweet moans fill the air and you can feel her clenching around your tongue. You’ve earned her devotion in that way - on more than one occasion, she’s confessed that no man has ever thought of her pleasure, on their own.
“Well, I am no man.” You’d responded.
It’s an exhausting affair, this dance, so it often ends with you curled around her on the bed, listening to her share the latest gossip of the smallfolk whilst you twist her hair into intricate braids, the kind only Targaryens wear, a sign she’s been with royalty. You’ve just finished your handiwork, laughing along to a story about the smallest cock she’s ever seen, when the curtains part, and Aemond slips into the room, clearly close to tears.
Immediately you sit up, paying no mind to the fact that you’re completely bare. “What’s wrong?”
Holding back tears, he hesitates for a moment before climbing into your lap, pressing his face between your breasts with a shaky sigh. You clutch him to you, guilt and regret sinking into your heart. Too young. He’s always been more sensitive than you, or Aegon, you should have waited to include him in your revelry. Too young, too young.
Falyse sits up as well, raising a questioning brow. You shake your head, and run your fingers down your brother’s back. For a while, the room is silent as Aemond’s breathing calms, and then he pulls his face away, sliding out of your lap to sit next to you instead. Looking down, he hides behind long curtains of hair, but not before you catch a glimpse of his expression. Shame.
Gently, you break the silence. “Aemond, this is my friend, Falyse. Falyse, my dear brother.”
Falyse smiles warmly, peering underneath Aemond’s hair. “A pleasure to meet you, my prince.”
“You must tell him what you were telling me.” You say. “Oh, it’s hilarious, Aemond, you must listen.”
He perks up slightly, as Falyse starts her story again - and she does get him to laugh, but the hurt doesn’t leave his eyes, and the guilt begins to pool in your stomach.
The sapphire is weighty in the pocket of your gown, and bounces heavy against your leg as you rise from the dinner table, dipping your head towards your father before you take your leave, following your siblings out of the hall. Aemond’s nameday feast was a small affair, per request of the prince, and he only received books from both of your parents - leatherbound histories of Valyria that look entirely too large in his little arms as he carries them back to his bedroom.
“Aemond.”
He turns at the sound of your voice, and you pluck one of the books from his hold, tucking it under your arm. With your other hand, you pull the sapphire from your pocket, and hold your closed fist out to him. “Here.”
Looking at you curiously, he holds out a hand, and you drop the sapphire into it. “A sapphire.” He says.
“For your eye.” You explain. “I had the masons fashion it so that you can slide it into the socket. I thought it might suit you.” Jokingly, you add, “And perhaps improve your standing with the court ladies.”
He huffs out a little laugh, examining the gemstone with a careful eye. “Thank you Jaenara.”
You smile, reveling in the first laugh you’ve won from him in a very long time.
Ser Cole and Aemond behind you, you lead them through the streets of Flea Bottom in the early morning light. It feels like a bit of a betrayal, showing them all of Aegon’s usual haunts, but the situation is dire, and your brother needs to be found. Your father is dead, and it was his dying wish, your mother said, for Aegon to be king.
The brothel looks different in the daylight, drab and empty. Gathering your skirts in one hand, you bound up the steps to the door and bang the heavy knocker twice on the wood. With any luck, you can get a hold of Falyse - if Aegon was here last night, she will let you know, free of charge.
It is not Falyse that answers the door, but the brothel Madame, Sylvi. A familiar face to you, albeit one that you have not had the pleasure of knowing under more intimate circumstances. Her eyes scan over your face, and then Aemond and Cole behind you. Stooping into a short curtsy, she asks. “And what can I do for you, my lady?”
“I am looking for my brother.” You say.
“He seems to be behind you-”
“My other brother. Aegon.” You clarify. “Was he here last night?”
“I’m afraid not.” She says.
You turn back to face your companions. Cole sighs, glancing around the streets like he might spot Aegon passed out in the mud. Aemond’s eye is on the Madame, a mixture of contempt and something else stirring in his gaze.
“Where else, then?” Cole asks.
“I don’t know.” You wrack your mind, tracing through all of the taverns and brothels you frequent with your brother, all places that you’ve stopped before arriving here, all with the same result. “This was the last place I could think of.”
Cole swears under his breath.
Aemond breezes back down the steps, his mouth set in a determined line. “He must be somewhere. Come, we will try the fighting pits next.”
You murmur your thanks to the Madame before following after Aemond and Cole, worry sinking into your gut. Leave it to Aegon to get swallowed up by the city when the realm needs him most.
Meleys’ breath washes over you as you stare down the dragon’s maw, expecting to see the glow of fire any moment, signaling your end. There is no time for action - in the few seconds you would have before flame reached you, there is no way you could reach your own dragon, Vermithor, to have any hope of combatting Rhaenys. Instead, you grasp Helaena’s arm and try to ignore how your hands shake.
Aemond steps in front of the both of you, obscuring your view of Rhaenys atop her dragon with one hand on his sword. As if something as feeble as that will do anything against a dragon.
You wait, feeling your sister with whom you shared your mother’s womb tremble underneath your grasp.
You wait, watching Aemond’s shoulders rise and fall with each breath in front of you.
You wait, watching as your mother steps in front of Aegon, one hand wrapped around his wrist like a vice.
A tidal wave of relief floods through you as Rhaenys pulls at the reins, and Meleys backs off, slipping through the doors of the dragonpit just before they swing closed, casting the room into semi-darkness. Alive. You’re alive - as is Helaena, and Aemond and Aegon. All of you, alive. You watch your mother almost fall to her knees as the relief washes through her, and then you are wrapped up in Helaena’s arms as she crushes herself to your chest. You return the hug with vigor, your eyes finding Aemond’s over her shoulder.
Alive. Alive. Alive.
Something is happening. They’ve been locked in the small council chamber even since Aemond returned from Storm’s End. It’s been hours since your brother dismounted Vhagar, soaked to the bone and looking more shaken than you’ve ever seen him. You have no idea what happened, or what’s being discussed. Now, more than ever, you curse not being born a man.
Still, there is nothing to do but wait.
So you do, steeping in the burning hot waters of Aemond’s bathtub, idly flipping with damp fingers through a series of poems you’d found in your great-grandfather Jaehaerys’s saddlebag when you’d claimed his dragon. Some of them you recognize as things he’d copied from other poets, some are his own musings about his wife, Alysanne. He wasn’t half bad, in your opinion.
You snap the booklet closed as the door to the bathroom opens, and Aemond slips inside, still dressed in his soaked riding leathers. He stills when he lays eyes on you, obviously not expecting anyone to have been waiting for him. But you just smile, and set your book aside.
“I had them draw a bath.” You say. “I figured you would want a soak, after flying in the rain. Scalding, of course.”
He smiles, and starts on the buttons of his overcoats, the fabric falling to the floor with a wet slap. His trousers are next, and then his eyepatch, set on top of your book before he slides into the bath behind you with a sigh, his head falling back against the edge of the tub.
“Very thoughtful of you, sister.” He says, eye fluttering shut.
“Mm.” You turn around in the tub, collecting a rag that you’d draped over the side and dipping it into the hot water, beginning to run it over his skin that isn’t submerged. For a moment, the only sounds are the echoes of droplets falling back into the tub as you wash him, until you speak again. “What business kept you in council so long?”
A tension settles in his jaw. “Lucerys Velaryon was also at Storm’s End.”
“You failed to win their allegiance?” You ask, surprised.
“No. Lord Borros was easily won when I promised myself to one of his daughters.” You brother opens his eye. “But Lucerys is dead, at my hand.”
You set the rag aside, your mind spinning. Lucerys, dead. As if things weren’t already pointing towards all out war after your father changed his mind about the succession. “How?”
Something in his expression shifts and for a moment, he looks like he’s about to burst into tears. “Vhagar.” He says, his voice cracking slightly. “I only meant to scare him, but she knows my anger… I cannot pretend that I did not fantasize about killing him. I did not think that she would…” He swallows, collecting himself. “Our mother is less than pleased with me.”
“Our mother could never understand the bond between dragon and rider.” You say, consoling. You lay a hand gently on his face, over his scar, and run your thumb under the sapphire that sits in his eye. “You cannot be blamed for your anger at the boy who maimed you. Vhagar cannot be blamed for sharing that sentiment.” You pause. “It is a regrettable accident. And I am sorry for Rhaenyra and her children.”
He takes a shaky breath before wrapping his arms around your middle, and pressing his face into your shoulder, holding you to him as tightly as possible. Already wet from the bath, the few tears he sheds onto your skin make no difference. You say nothing, but pick up a comb from the short table beside the tub and begin to work it through his hair.
You wake up to a sharp pain in the side of your neck, like the skin has been sliced open. One hand flies to the wound, and the other slips under your mattress, pulling the long dagger you keep there free of its sheath in a smooth motion. You sit up, the knife brandished before you, only to find your bedroom empty, the only motion being that of the curtains fluttering from the breeze of your open window.
You pull your other hand away from your neck, expecting to see blood. Your palm is blank, the skin unmarred. In the reflection of your blade, you inspect your neck, only to find nothing. A phantom wound, perhaps from a dream. Anyone else would have simply gone back to sleep. But this is not the first time you and your sister have shared each other’s injuries.
You rise quickly, knife still in hand as you dart from your chambers, heading down the hall at a quick clip. It’s eerily empty - not a white cloak in sight. Something is wrong, you’re sure of it, the echo of your footsteps on the stone only serving to further put you on edge as you approach the nursery. The door stands ajar, flickering candlelight seeping out into the hall from within.
Slowly, carefully, you peer around the door. The room is empty - silent. The door creaks as you edge your way inside, turning to glance at the children’s beds. It is then that you see it - the headless body of your nephew, blood still seeping out of the stump of his neck into his bedsheets. Your blood runs ice cold, and then burning hot as rage fills you. Your gaze drops to the blood spatters on the floor, little droplets lead out into the hall.
Readjusting your grip on your dagger, you break into a sprint, following the trail.
Your bare feet slap in harsh rhythm against the stone, your eyes flicking back and forth from the floor to the hall in front of you as you follow the blood splatters. It is too late now. Jaehaerys is dead already, but you have to do something, you must. You can see candles being lit as you whip past door after door, the Keep slowly waking as the horror sets in, but you do not stop.
You do not stop even when you turn an ankle as you round a corner, because there he is, a tall man in a hooded cloak, a burlap sack tightly clutched in his hand, blood dripping through the fibers. Stumbling, you push yourself back up with your hands, and with a mighty scream, leap at the mans back, knocking him forward.
The bag tumbles to the ground, and Jaehaerys’ head rolls out, jaw slack and eyes wide.
“The fuck-” The man growls, knocking you from his back. You fall to the ground, but force yourself to your feet again, diving forward, your dagger poised to strike. Bigger and stronger than you, he grabs your wrist, bending the bone until it snaps. Tears flood your vision as the pain washes over you, but you do not stop. Gritting your teeth, you drive your dagger into the soft skin of his side, between where his ribs end and his hips begin.
He groans, releasing your wrist, and you leap at him again, clawing at his face as you sink your teeth into the side of his neck, biting as hard as you can. You can feel the blows he’s raining on you, but you hold on, savoring the taste of his blood as it floods your mouth, coppery and strong. His hands wrap around your broken wrist, and you wail again, your voice muffled by his skin in your mouth.
But then there are hands around your waist, and the clank of armor fills your ears. Two white cloaks tackle the man to the ground as Aemond pulls you from his grasp, pressing your back to his chest.
“Kill him!” You shout, eyes locked on the man as the guards beat him into submission before hauling him up to his feet. “Kill him!”
“Jaenara.” Aemond’s voice is low in your ear. “The maesters…”
You try to shake him off, but your brother doesn’t relent, gently steering you away from the guards and little Jaehaerys’ head on the floor, back into the relative calm of the halls. As the adrenaline fades, pain begins to wrack your body in waves, and you find yourself leaning against Aemond as tears fill your vision.
“Helaena,” You gasp, chest heaving as sobs build up in your throat.
“With Cole, and our mother. Jaehaera, as well.” Aemond assures you.
“They,” You say, working around the lump in your throat. “Put a knife. To her throat.” You bring your fingers up to the side of your neck, where the pain had awoken you. “Here.”
“I’m sure she’s being tended to.” He says. Gently, he pulls your arm up, inspecting your wrist, bent at an odd angle and already starting to swell. “We must tend to you too.”
Too exhausted to insist that there are more important things to be dealt with, you let him steer you along.
You watch little Jaehaerys’ body bounce with the movement of the carriage in front of you, slightly obscured by the mourning veil you wear. Helaena sits beside you, pressed between you and your mother, eyes firmly pointed up at the sky. She’s empty, you can feel the echo of it in your own body, as you’re sure she can feel a hint of the festering anger you yourself are harboring.
It will only be a matter of time now, before you don your armor and mount Vermithor for battle. You pity the fool who will fly to meet you.
The wails of the smallfolk fill the city streets as you pass, petals filling the air as they toss handfuls at the carriages, shouting their grief in harmony. The news of Jaehaerys death had swept through the city like fire, just as your grandsire had suggested it would. Now, more than ever, the smallfolk hated Rhaenyra - there would be no public protest of the war that was brewing.
But you cannot help but feel angered by the whole thing as your little nephew’s body shakes with the movement of the carriage in front of you. To be reduced to a martyr, at such a young age. And knowingly, by his own kin. It is an ugly, ugly thing.
Helaena’s eyes finally drop from the sky, and your mother shifts, extending a hand to touch her arm. Helaena shrinks away instinctually, leaning further into you, and you shift, allowing her to press herself against your side, her head falling into the crook of your neck.
You do not need to speak to know what she is thinking. You rest a hand on the back of her head, and let her curl into you, feeling her heartbeat against your own.
“Cole and I will cut them off entirely.” Aemond says, laying another marker on the map, over Rook’s Rest. “And with Rhaenyra confined to Dragonstone, it should be simple enough to take Harrenhal without interruption.”
You let your gaze sweep over the map, stopping at each marker Aemond had put down. “A clever plan.” You agree. “And Aegon also approves?”
Aemond scoffs at that, leaning back in his chair, the light from the fireplace dancing over his face. “What does it matter?”
“He is the king.” You say simply, lifting your gaze to look at your brother. “It is his war that we fight.”
“He is a figurehead.” Aemond says, rising from his seat to circle around the table, coming to stand behind you. “At the hands of our mother and grandsire. His only purpose is to lend them free reign.”
“He is our brother, and liege lord.” You say, standing from your own seat and turning to face him. “You speak treason, Aemond.”
“Mm.” Aemond hums, eye drifting over your face. “I forget, sometimes, that you are partial to him.”
“He is my brother.” You repeat. “And my Helaena is his wife.”
Silence permeates the room, and for a moment, the only sound is that of the crackling fire. But Aemond’s soft voice breaks through again. “Did you ever let him fuck you?”
The question takes you aback, and you laugh. “What?”
“In all your whoring together, did you ever let him fuck you?” He asks again, unwavering.
“No.” You say. “I have no taste for his particular flavor of depravity.” Not that Aegon ever tried, either. That wasn’t - isn’t - the nature of your friendship.
“Hm.” Aemond hums, turning back to the map sprawled across the table. “Vermithor will be needed to secure the Riverlands.” He continues, like the discussion never strayed from battle in the first place. He leans over the map, tracing a long finger over the stretch of the reach.
“Of course.” You agree, confused.
It’s been too long since you last did this.
Wine flowing through your veins, you walk arm in arm with Aegon, leading the way to the old brothel, his friends and squire - the reason for the night - behind you. The crowd parts as you step through the brothel doors, a hush falling over the gathered patrons. The quiet only lasts for a moment before whispers take its place, hushed words about the king himself being a patron tonight.
Aegon, of course, pays these whispers no mind, dropping your arm in favor of grasping his squire by the shoulders, speaking grandly about the pleasures of manhood. It makes you think of a similar night many years ago, when you’d brought Aemond to this very brothel. Guilt floods you for a moment, but is quickly quelled when soft hands wind over your shoulders, and a sultry voice whispers in your ears.
“Princess.”
You turn, delighted to see Falyse - delighted enough, that with the wine already in you, you plant a wet kiss to her lips before resting your forehead against hers. “My sweet lady, my own heart.” You croon. “It has been far too long.”
She laughs, raspy and seductive, her eyes crinkling at the edges with her smile. “I did not know that all three of you would be joining us tonight.” She says, winding her arms about your shoulders. “Just like when you were younger.”
“Mm.” You find yourself agreeing before her words really register. “Wait, three? Is Aemond-?”
But it’s too late, you know it is as soon as Aegon’s raucous laughter booms through the room. You turn away from Falyse, finding your brother amidst the crowd, having abandoned his squire in favor of sinking next to Aemond on a bed, a wide grin crawling over his face.
You can’t make out what he’s saying, but you can see Aemond shrinking in on himself, curling away from the Madame, who he’d been laying with. Winding Falyse’s hands away from your shoulders, you bring her knuckles to your lips, pressing a kiss there. “Another time, my lady.”
“Of course.” She says, understanding flashing across her gaze.
You push through the gathered patrons towards your brothers, but Aemond meets you halfway, stalking through the crowd naked as the day he was born, clearly fuming. He pauses when his eye falls on you, clearly not having expected you to be here as well, and you watch his lip tremble ever so slightly. But he does not cry.
“Aemond.” You say, unsure how to broach the subject.
“Jaenara.” He returns, icy.
A pause stretches between you, and Aemond turns to leave, but you grab his arm, stopping him. “Come back home with me.” You say.
You think he’ll spurn you, hiss some insult that’s more for Aegon than for you, but he sighs, “Fine.”
He does not speak to you until you stand at his bedroom door. You feel as though you should say something, apologize on Aegon’s behalf in some way, but you don’t get the chance before Aemond is beckoning you into his chambers with a quiet, “Come.”
You do, not realizing what he wants until the door is shut behind you and you’re pressed against it, your brother's lips pressing insistently into yours. You only hesitate for a moment before kissing him back, giving him what he wants. He melts into it, softening as he realizes that you won’t reject him, cradling you into his arms.
When he pulls back, his voice is breathy. “I’m going to kill him.”
It sends a spike of fear through you, thinking of one brother killing the other, but the look in Aemond’s eye leaves no room for doubt. “I’m sure you will.”
Apparently the correct answer, Aemond resumes kissing you with a fervor, steering you away from the door and towards his bed. “I’ll kill him,” He says, rushed between kisses. “And without an heir, I’ll take his place.” His hair tickles the side of your face as he presses his nose into your neck. “Make you my queen, as he had Helaena.” He nips at the thin skin, making you hiss in pain, pulling at his hair.
He lifts his head as he pushes you down onto his bed, crawling over you. “You’re betrothed to another.” You say as he begins to pull at the laces of your dress.
“As are you.” He responds. You bat his hands away from the laces as soon as you hear fabric rip, and begin undoing them yourself. “Both empty promises made by our grandsire for armies.”
You shimmy out of your overdress, and kick it off the edge of the bed, left in your shift. Aemond strips himself of his shirt before tugging at the hem of your slip, urging you to take it off as well. Before long, you’re both naked, and he’s hovering over you again, trailing his nose along the swell of your breast. You take the opportunity to free him of his eyepatch, enjoying the glitter of the sapphire you gave him.
His eye finds yours as he quietly asks, “Will you let me?”
As if you really even have a choice in the matter. “Yes.”
That’s all the permission he needs to lift your hips with one hand and slide his cock into you with the other. You wrinkle your nose as the sting of the stretch as he works himself into you, his eye fluttering shut. With a deep groan, he begins rocking himself in and out, grinding into you slowly. It’s not the most pleasure you’ve ever felt (no, he would be hard-pressed to compete with Falyse), but it isn’t unpleasant.
You relax into the bed as he begins to fuck into you in earnest, whimpering to himself as he takes a breast in his mouth, lost in your body. You suppose you should have expected something like this, eventually. It was odd, that he’d asked if Aegon had ever fucked you, but you hadn’t thought that he himself wanted to. Now, his intentions in asking seem obvious.
He releases your breast with a pop before tucking his face against your neck, words trickling directly from his lips to your ear. “My Jaenara…” He moans. “Always so good to me. So kind, so sweet, so fierce. Hm.” He pants heavy, his hips knocking against yours frantically. “Seeing you covered in that mans blood, the chunk you ripped out of his neck with your teeth… my dragon.” He croons.
You wind a hand into his hair, wincing as your wrist twinges in pain. It’s gotten better under the maester’s care, but it still complains when you move it in certain ways. The pain vanishes quickly though, and you begin to stroke Aemond’s hair just how he likes, pressing your lips to his temple.
He whimpers again, almost like he’s in pain. “I will put us on the Iron Throne.” He swears, voice breathy. “Our dragons will burn Rhaenyra and her armies alive, and it will be our line that continues the tradition of our ancestors.” He all but growls it, snapping his hips with such force that you have to stop yourself from slamming into the headboard. “I swear it to you.”
“Aemond.” You gasp, overwhelmed with the vigor of his thrusts. The last thing you would have expected was for Aemond to get you to peak, but you can feel yourself getting closer, the combination of his rough fucking and devoted words stirring your insides.
“Tell me that you are mine.” He says, demanding and begging at the same time. You can feel him losing his rhythm, pleasure no doubt creeping up on him the same as it is for you.
“I’m yours.” You swear. “I’m yours, Aemond.”
He whimpers, and it’s the whining sound that sends you over the edge, your body tensing in his hold as you clench around him. With a loud gasp, you come, and Aemond’s thrusts reach breakneck speed.
“You’re mine.” He whispers in your ear. “Mine, mine-” He comes with a rough groan, pressing his hips to yours and holding them there. He sinks into you immediately, collapsing onto your chest, his breath coming in pants against your skin.
You bask in the quiet of his room as his cock softens within you, mind spinning as you take in what just happened. “Did you mean it? All that you said?” You ask softly, stroking his hair again.
“Mm.” He affirms, sleep heavy in his voice.
You say no more as he drifts off to sleep on your chest, cock still inside you. He intends to make you his queen. To kill Aegon and take his place.
You love Aegon, you do. He is your brother, and one of your closest friends. But you would be lying if you said he was a good king. Perhaps it would not be so bad, if Aemond were to take his place, especially with you at his side.
But does Aegon really deserve to die?
Aemond is insatiable now that he knows you won’t spurn his advances. You can’t say that you mind too much.
Your elbows resting on the table before you, he takes you from behind as you both pore over a map of Westeros, markers indicating where your forces lay. A letter from Ser Cole sits open on the table beside you, informing Aemond of his most recent conquest as he nears Rook’s Rest. You run your fingers against the wood of the table, moving pieces along the map like chess, the sounds of Aemond’s breathy groans and the rustle of your skirts shifting as he takes you the only sounds in the room.
“You will have to - ah - take flight on Vhagar soon then, if you are to meet Cole at Rook’s Rest.” You say.
“Hm.” Aemond’s hips smack into yours as he leans over your back, moving the piece that symbolizes Vhagar to the edge of the crownlands. “The conquest should not take more than a day. Any longer and I would send Aegon in my stead - I would be loathe to leave you.” He jokes, pressing his nose against your neck.
“Mm.” You hum, letting him stretch you further across the table and angle your hips to better receive his thrusts. Planting his hands on your hips, he pulls you back to meet each snap of his hips, the map forgotten as he pleasures himself with your body. There’s something intoxicating about his unwavering devotion, something rewarding. It feels like all the time you spent comforting him as a child is paying off; after all, he intends to put you on the throne. You wind a hand behind you to caress his cheek.
He melts into the touch, extending his body over your back, pressing himself to you completely. It’s intoxicating, the power you have over him. The simplest of touches, the softest of words, and the most fearsome dragon rider in the world bends completely to your will.
“You must tell Aegon of your plans.” You say, laying your head down on the table to peer at the man behind you.
“He will no doubt find out on his own.” Aemond says. “Either way, they don’t involve him. Rook’s Rest is nothing Cole and I cannot take on our own.”
“And if someone were to show you the same insolence if you were the king?” You retort, biting back a gasp as his thrusts increase pace.
“When.” He corrects, almost growling. “When I am the king. And I would exile them for such an insult.”
“Yet- mm, Aemond, ah - you do not fear such retribution from Aegon.” You say. You know he’s getting close, his soft pants turning into longer whines, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your hips. You clench as tightly as you can, reveling in the breathy moan you pull from him as he stills, hips still pressed against yours, spent.
You feel him make himself comfortable against your back, not bothering to pull away just yet. “Our brother is a fool, not fit for the duties of the crown. How can one be expected to respect such an undeserving monarch? No,” He says, pressing open-mouthed kisses onto any patch of your skin he can reach. “We will be much greater.”
It’s treason, even just entertaining thoughts of taking the throne from the rightful king, but the more Aemond speaks of it, the more you find yourself indulging in the fantasy. Never before did you truly consider what it would be to be queen, but after truly thinking about it, you find yourself enchanted with the idea. With anyone else, you have no doubt that you would have been subjected to the life your mother lived, but as Aemond’s queen, you would have more power than any woman before you.
“You sound so sure already.” You tease, pushing yourself up on your elbows as he slips away, tucking himself back into his trousers and pulls your skirts back down over your legs.
“That is because I am.”
Aegon presses his face into his hands, groaning. While he’s not looking, you slide the wine decanter away from him. Full when you sat down, it’s almost empty now, most of the contents having been poured down the kings throat. He’s been drinking more, in the aftermath of little Jaehaerys’ death. You can’t blame him, of course, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t concerning.
“They plot behind my back.” He says, his face still hidden in his hands, his elbows resting on the table. “Aemond. My own hand - and our mother, she…” He trails off. “They mock me. Think me an idiot. I cannot…” He reaches for the decanter, only to find it missing, and lifts his head out of his hands. “My wine.”
“Perhaps you’ve had enough.” You say, doing your best to be firm.
He looks at you blankly before gesturing for the decanter again. With a sigh, you fold, sliding the container across the table to him. Let him drink himself to death if he wishes - it would be a better end than whatever Aemond is planning.
It’s hard to look at Aegon, knowing that your other brother is plotting his demise. He doesn’t deserve to die, not after all he’s been through. Sometimes, you think you know Aegon better than yourself. You’ve seen him at his drunkest, in the streets of Flea Bottom, at his most desperate before his coronation, at his lowest, after the death of his son. He never asked for any of this. He never asked to be king. He doesn’t deserve to die because of a crown he never desired.
But one cannot simply resign from the throne.
You watch as Aegon empties the rest of the decanter into his glass, and then misses the table as he sets the pitcher down, shards shattering across the tiled floor. He stares down at the floor, eyes blank. “Ah.”
“Aegon.” You groan.
He flaps his hand. “Someone will clean it up. Someone always does.”
“Perhaps it is behavior such as this that deters Cole and Aemond from sharing their plans with you.” You say, utterly annoyed at your brother’s actions.
Aegon scoffs. “As if you weren’t also kept in the dark.” His eyes lazily slide to yours, and you don’t look away quickly enough, it seems, because he catches it in your gaze. “They told you? And not me, their king?”
“I cannot help that our brother seeks my opinion on such matters.” You say.
“Then why didn’t you tell me?” Aegon demands, angrily rising from his seat to level an accusatory finger at you. “You are supposed to be my closest confidant, I expect you to be on my side-!” He cuts himself off. “But no. Of course not. As soon as Aemond gets his claws into you you’re just like the rest of them.”
“Aegon,” You try, placating. “I meant no offense. In fact, I urged Aemond to tell you himself-”
“No, no, you cannot fool me again! I am not as stupid as you think me to be, I am not.” He shouts, harshly backing away from the table as you rise from your seat. There’s an anger in his eyes that you’ve never seen directed at you before, and it gives you pause, guilt and shame sinking into the pit of your stomach. What were you thinking, going behind his back like this? He is your brother, one of your closest friends, your king. Curse Aemond and all his sickly sweet words.
“Aegon-”
A loose hand thrown up in the air, he silences you with a harsh glance before stalking out of the room, leaving you alone with the shattered pieces of the decanter for company.
Aegon returns to you on a litter, melted into his armor by dragonfire, barely conscious. The smell of charred flesh and dragon blood fills the hall as the kingsguard rush him to the maesters, and you press yourself as far into the wall as you can to let them pass. There is no rage in you, only shock and despair. You had not thought it would be so soon, that Aemond had his revenge.
“Jaenara.”
You turn at the sound of his voice, and he stops in front of you, pulling off his riding gloves and tucking them into the pocket of his leathers. There’s an energy about him that you haven’t seen before. Leftover adrenaline crackles over his skin, the pupil of his good eye blown wide, almost lustful.
“What have you done?” You demand, cringing at the frightened quality of your voice.
“What I planned to do.” He says, taking you by the arm. “Are you not delighted? Aegon is indisposed, he will be crippled for the rest of his life - however many short years he has left, in this state. None will stand in our way.”
“I…” You aren’t sure how you feel. Aegon isn’t dead, but he will be in incredible pain for the rest of his life. Likely, he won’t be able to walk on his own, or ever ride his dragon again. It is an awful fate for someone you love. But you cannot pretend a part of you - the same part seduced by Aemond’s ambition - isn’t elated at the downfall of the king.
“Come.” Aemond says, tugging you away from your palace pressed against the rough hewn stone of the Keep walls. You fall into pace beside him, stumbling over your own feet as you process how reality is shifting around you at this very moment. Aemond and the council will have to speak on Aegon’s behalf, puppeteering him even more so than before. You are one step closer to ascending the throne. Your brother is half-alive, melted into the armor of his namesake.
You don’t realize where you are until Aemond is pushing you down onto his bed with one hand and rucking your skirts up around your waist with the other. He does not wait for you to react before he scoops your hips up to insert himself into you, groaning in relief as he slides home. “My queen.” He gasps throatily, pillowing his face in the crook of your neck. “Have I pleased you?”
“Mm.” You hum, unable to say the words ‘yes, of course’. It proves to be enough though, for Aemond sighs again, slowly beginning to grind his hips against yours. It’s more fervent than his usual fucking, spurred on by the bloody battle he’s just come from. You can smell the smoke in his hair from where it lays across your face.
“It will not be long now,” He says, breathy and rough. “Soon, you and I will sit the throne. Have our own heirs - will you give me an heir?” He asks. “Will you give me more than one?”
“As many as you’d like.” You choke out. There isn’t another option for you now, not with Aemond so intent on having you by his side when he takes his place as king. As you’re sure he will.
“We will put Jaehaerys and Alysanne to shame.” He declares, placing his hands under the small of your back, causing you to arch against him. Holding the tops of your hips, he fucks you against him feverishly. It does not take long for him to finish, already keyed up on the high of his plans coming to fruition.
He collapses against your chest with a heavy sigh, and instinctually, you wrap your arms around his shoulders, carding your fingers through his hair.
“I love you.” He whispers against your skin.
It’s the first time he’s said the words aloud, though you’ve known it for a very long time. Of course Aemond loves you.
“As I, you.” You return.
What you can’t decide, is if you feel the same.
1K notes
·
View notes
Note
Aegon is the best big brother to his sweet sister, who is in third trimester of pregnancy; not only does he help her relieve the feeling of her heavy breasts by sucking on her tits greedily like a babe, he sometimes helps the aching feeling between her legs by sticking his cock, tongue or fingers in her cunny
Such a good brother, especially when she’s not even his wife
Blood of my Blood.
PAIRING: Older!Brother!Aegon ii Targaryen x Little!Sister!Fem!Reader
WORDS: 1,715.
WARNINGS: incest to the max, implied affair [Aegon is the father of the child], age gap [reader is of mature/consensual age], lactation kink, pregnancy kink, slight reference to breeding kink, p in v sexual intercourse, possessive!Aegon, swearing.
A/N - now I NEVER write brother x sister tropes even in the ASOIAF universe just because it’s not really my cup of tea, but this ask sparked something very very feral in me. I might make a neice x uncle version of this or a Daddy Aeg x daughter!reader version.
credit to the owners of the images.
Curse the Gods who afflicted the journey of motherhood, for it could be such a gruelling thing... Heading into the final few moons of your first pregnancy, you had never felt such intense discomfort in your life. Your beloved mother, Queen Alicent, had informed you of such grievances, although with little empathy for her pregnancies had been quite embracing and facile. Your eldest sister, Helaena, having already given birth to a set of twins, now in the early stages of her current pregnancy with your elder brother, Aemond, could somewhat console you, becoming an anchor of support.
It was Aegon, your eldest of the siblings, that you seemed most attached to, for it was Aegon that granted you bliss in your pregnancy, more so than your absent husband, some delinquent lord of the Vale. You had argued your way with your mother, and batted your eyes to your father, begging you to stay in King's Landing, in familiar territory with the finest maesters at hand. More so, it was Aegon who had plotted with you this essential plan.
"Do you truly think that the maesters of the Vale and that imbecile you call husband will keep you safe and satisfied, dear sister? Not in the least... But I can."
Aegon's temptress of a tongue was convincing alone, although it had been his merciful gestures of chivalry that kept you sane and grounded. Easing your aches and pains of expecting, Aegon became your sole beacon of ease, like the formidable arms of a warrior and you, the damsel he heroically carries.
"Do they ache again, sweet sister?"
The softness in his husky, drowsy voice breaking the silence of the chamber, woke you whole from your half-hearted daze. You had both succumbed to slumber [often Aegon insisted that you remain closely by his side, even in bed] what felt like hours long ago, and yet through the ginger firelight, by the open window, night remained swallowing the sky.
"Mhmm-" You uneasily stir: weakly trying to muster enough strength to sit yourself upright: however, with the sheer, bulging mass of your grown belly you visibly struggled until Aegon's efforts of pulling you effortlessly upright ended your dilemma.
"Want me to help, princess?"
His calloused, thick hands began to rub small, soothing circles against your lower back, knowing the babe inside exerted much pressure on your lower spine: its weight growing more rigid with each passing month.
"You've helped me enough, Aegon. I mustn't ask more from you... If this state is any indication of me being a mother, consider me a terrible one," You defeatedly utter, one hand stretched from behind supporting your upright position, whilst the other softly caressed at the protruding temple of your clothed belly.
"Don't speak like that, Y/N, dearest. This is your first babe, you must understand your body is adjusting. Hel suffered a great deal with the twins also, and now, look at her... You are going to be a beautiful mother, indeed. I have no doubt...C'me here."
Lightly tapping at your exposed thigh, your night gown had been pulled up just below your way with all the commotion and movement. Obeying, Aegon summoned you onto his lap, shirtless he had entered the bed, however before you could even gather motion to straddle yourself atop: he'd managed to tear away his undergarments, leaving his exposed girth, reddened at the tip with excitement. Modestly covering himself with the sheer, ivory linen.
"Right now?" Your snappy tone vicious, however Aegon remained unfazed.
"Well, little sister, if I'm being quite frank it seems you've been dreaming quite vividly... Do you not hear the moans and pleas that escape your lips in sleep, crying out for me, begging... Want your elder to sate you, is it? Was that babe growing inside of you not enough, you wish me to spoil you some more, hmm?"
"A-Aeg- We shouldn't..." You meekly whimper, a surge of heat coursing through your face, certain your cheeks had grown scarlet with shame.
"All you had to do was ask."
His dark voice a low growl, like some concealed predator eager to ambush. Aegon's motions remained in contrast, tender and cautious, easing your delicate and sensitive frame over his wide, gelatinous thighs. A scorching sensational painfully heightened sent lightning bolts in waves throughout the entirety of your body, shuddering with excitement as your aching cunt eased itself over his pulsating cock. It had been a while since you had been intimate with Aegon like this, prior to the pregnancy in fact: the changes your body had undergone since were bracing and raw.
Feeling the tensity beneath and the heat as you began to bob ever so slowly and sensually over Aegon's tense, fat cock: feeling its hard tip hitting at your cervix [you had hoped rather than the babe]. Your tight walls overstretched, desperate to adjust to his girthy width, you swore to yourself it had never felt this stimulating ever before: every primal sense in your body, every fibre of your being resisting the urge to collapse into a faint against Aegon's soft chest, gripping onto the bare, pale skin of his broad shoulders for dear life.
"That's it, rūs [baby], doing so-so well. It hurts I know, but Daddy's gonna make you feel so much better. Keep going, princess."
Head rolling back in admiration, you felt the intensity from between your inner thighs beginning to lessen, a wetness pooling between, coating the friction to ease the motions. Your hands release their strong hold over him, as your eyes began to wonder over his body, you had immediately noticed the raw, reddened marks lashed across his ivory skin. To avoid any more damage, you guide your relaxed hands up towards Aegon's short strands.
Tugging and playfully pulling at the loose, platinum locks, whilst Aegon's face remained buried, eagerly lapping at your petal-like skin on the base of your neck. One strong arm snaked around your back, gripping you firmly by the neck providing some lumbar support, whilst the other strategically untied the knots of lace at the front of your night gown, exposing your voluptuously full tits. Hardened nipples raw and perky, even as Aegon teasingly flicked at your tit with this thumb, a grimace forming across his handsome face you felt against your skin: kneading the swollen, plump flesh with his palm, you instinctively squirmed and moaned with such debility.
"Seven Hells, you are so fucking full, dārilaros [princess]. This babe is going to be so spoiled. Such a good Mumma, already eager with milk for the bub... Could feed the an entire realm, Mumma."
"J-Just you A-Aeg. Only you get to taste this sweet m-milk before the babe. T-Tell me how good I taste," Stuttering whimpers mottled between mouthful of moans echoed between the dense walls of Aegon's royal chambers. His fat cock still buried and plunging itself deeply inside of you, penetrating against your already tainted and filled womb, Aegon's hand cupped at your breast from beneath. Lifting your tit upwards, latching his mouth tightly against its curvature peak.
"Mhmm- Keep going big boy... M-Making me feel s-so good, A-Aeg. H-Have your full."
The imminent relief your occupied tit began to succumb to, felt like a blissful dream. You felt your breath could finally release, not hitched against your throat from the sheer agony of feeling it was about to burst. The milk you intently sensed, lusciously pouring into Aegon's ravenous mouth, his plump, moist lips suckling at your skin, totally encompassing the nipple in its entirety. His teeth lightly gnawed at your flesh, however, it was a pleasant sensation nonetheless.
"So w-warm and fresh- Gonna f-fill me up so fucking much. P-Poor princess... The weight of these, the copious a-amount- I-I'm greedy for you. Sh-Should've fucked you earlier in your womanhood... Drenching your w-womb of my seed, till we fill the keep i-if need be. M-Mother would rather enjoy it."
Aegon, famished like a destitute of the realm, bathed his taste-buds of your milk from one breast and onto the other: regaining his breath between each as he felt inclined to credit your production. Descending his face down once more, he spared no further second wasting away, as he continued to fervently feed, like a man starved of pure water.
"Th-The el-eldest you may b-be, such a b-big baby y-you are. S-So needy for me, huh? A-Always needing t-to take me, m-make me yours. Every bit of me... Is devout t-to you, A-Aegon."
As if your breathless, sensual words had struck a chord in him, a man gone mad with a fever. His hold on you had tightened, his mouth suckled deeper, tugging at the flesh of your bosom, whilst his cock felt it had grown a size more inside of you. The wet mess coating between your inner thighs now glazed all over Aegon's plump lap, expressed no denial of his power over you, the purpose he gave to you. In theory and practice, you felt your body collapsing into a bliss, a shudder of ecstasy waved through your feeble body as you screamed for Aegon, a gush of your wetness coating all over his stiff cock buried inside. Only to be met with Aegon's mutual appreciation of your vulnerability and submission towards him.
"That's it, baby. Such a beautiful woman... Gevives [beauty]. You honour me with this holy act. You privilege me to your womb, your body and your life... Skorkydoso kostagon nyke mirre deny ao mirros? [How can I ever deny you anything?]."
Easing yourself off of Aegon, your limp, frail body tiresome and relieved of such exploits endured. Aegon knew better than to leave you to your own strength, as absent as it was: carrying you over towards your empty side of the bed, still laying you closely against his natural warmth.
"Continue to serve me, brother. And I shall pay it back 100 times over... And besides, if it had not been for your mischief many moons ago, I would not be in such a state. Although, I wouldn't have it any other way, Aegon... I love you."
"Avy jorrāelan [I love you], my dearest, sweet little sister. Continue as you are and I might have to fuck another babe in you once more to teach you a lesson or two."
general taglist [bold means I could NOT tag you] - @succnfuccubus @fan-goddess @malfoytargaryen @bibli0thecary @m1ndbrand @connorsui @elegantsplendour @sylasthegrim @arcielee @s-we-e-t-t-ea @sahvlren @aemondtargaryensrider @watercolorskyy @hypnos-daughter-certified @urmomsgirlfriend1 @backyardfolklore @snowprincesa1 @zaldritzosrose
Aegon ii taglist [bold means I could NOT tag you] - @who-told-you-this-was-butter @f4ll-for-you @jawline-of-steel @daughter-of-the-stars11 @bucknastysbabe @callsignwidow
credit for divider - @/saradika-graphics
#aegon ii targaryen#tom glynn carney#aegon ii targaryen imagines#aegon ii imagines#aegon ii targaryen imagine#aegon ii imagine#aegon ii targaryen fanfic#aegon ii fanfic#aegon ii targaryen fanfiction#aegon ii fanfiction#aegon ii smut#aegon ii fluff#aegon the second#aegon ii x you#aegon ii x y/n#aegon ii x fem!reader#aegon ii x sister!reader#king aegon ii targaryen#king aegon ii#hotd#house of the dragon#hotd imagines#hotd imagine#alicent hightower#aemond targaryen#helaena targaryen
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
De Jure
In light of a recent scandal, she finds herself becoming part of Aemond's plan for the future- Part 2 to De Facto.
PM!Aemond x unnamed female character
Main Masterlist // AO3
Warnings: 18+, smut, politics (putting my degree to good use), questionable power dynamics, manipulation, dub con/non con elements, baby trapping
Words: 4121
A/n: He looked too good at the New York premiere and I couldn't help myself :)
A strange feeling seems to follow her around Hightower House, like there are eyes on her, like everyone around her is watching her, like they know something.
It’s plausible enough that Aemond likes to keep her behind late most nights because he trusts her, more so than the other staff. There’s always something they need to talk through, some crisis that needs solving, some issue they can form a preemptive strategy for. Mostly “crisis resolution” comes in the form of him bending her over the desk and tearing through her tights, or having her on her knees with his hands in her hair and his cock slipping between her lips.
Aemond is precise, attentive, relentless. He leaves her stunned and satisfied in a way that the wanting never satiates itself.
Then there are the occasional glances, the sparse touches, his hand on her back when he walks into a room, his hand on her thigh under a desk, in the back of a car.
He’s careful to act inconspicuously around others, but there’s something about the way Maris glares at her, the way Alys watches her with her brows raised.
What if they know? How could they? How could they not?
Then she starts to get noticed by Otto Hightower. He’s a formidable figure in Hightower House, notorious for expecting the best from the staff, for his bluntness, his restrained but short temper, his intolerance for anything less than perfection– this is the man who made Aemond Targaryen the political force that he is after all.
After Aemond’s success in de-escalating the Aegon situation, Otto Hightower had personally pulled her aside and commended her. “Aemond said he wouldn’t have been able to pull it together if it weren’t for you.”
She’d been rather stunned that Aemond would mention her to his grandfather.
“Just doing my bit for the party,” she’d said.
He nodded his head at that, mouth poised in something like a smile.
She never has plans on a Friday night these days. She’s working through some polls, anxiously waiting for Aemond to finish a meeting with the inner circle, Otto, Cole and Alicent.
Alys is watching her between glances at her laptop, the same red lipstick on her lips, an eerie white light illuminating her face from the screen. Her nails tap against the keys and the surface of the desk when she pauses to think, to stare.
“What?” she says sharply, weeks of patience wearing thin.
Alys smirks to herself before slowly closing the lid of her laptop. “It seems as though something’s bothering you.”
A panicked feeling hums in her chest. She was too harsh. Her reaction was too obvious. “No, I’m fine,” she mutters.
“I thought you might be tired, you know, with all the overtime Mr Taragryen has you doing.”
She tries to laugh it off, to smile and shake her head, but her mouth feels stiff.
“Maris thinks he likes you.” Alys leans back in her chair, twirling a pen between her fingers.
“No more than he likes anyone else, I’m sure.”
One of Alys’ eyebrows lifts. With a short humming sound in her throat her lips break into another smile that bares her teeth. “Between us, I think Maris has a crush on him. It was cute at first but now I think she looks a little desperate…”
Desperate. What does that make her?
“... I think he likes you because you’re good at your job, but then sometimes it’s like he goes out of his way to ignore you. I thought he might be doing it to make the rest of us feel better.”
They stare at each other, locked in a silent dare. She feels her chest moving with her breath, her heart drumming under her skin.
“I think you’re reading into things,” she says, wincing at how dry her throat is.
Alys’ smile is gone now. She has this certain look, it can be unassuming and yet unnervingly intense. But they go back to their respective tasks. She looks like she has another thought brewing in her head, but she is interrupted by the ringing on the phone on her desk.
She picks it up instantly. “Hello, sir. Yes, sir. I’ll send her through now.”
The meeting isn’t over yet, the others would have passed the office on their way out. She tries not to stand too eagerly, taking her time as she collects the papers in front of her and picks up her phone– but what if Alys thinks she’s moving too slowly? She resists the urge to tut at herself or fiddle with the fabric of her skirt.
She has to walk by Alys’ desk to get to the door, and the thought fills her with dread, like she’ll be able to see right through her head and read every thought.
“Wait,” Alys calls as she hovers in the open doorway.
She turns to face her.
“He’s sweet,” Alys says, “and too gorgeous for his own good, but the Hightowers are opportunists.”
She knows that. The whole country knows that. For a generation, Westerosi politics has been nothing but a game between the Greens and the Blacks, a rivalry that started when Otto Hightower’s daughter caught the eye of Viserys Targaryen.
“You’re a smart girl,” Alys says. “Be careful.”
The walk to Aemond’s office feels longer than usual. The closed door feels more daunting. She taps her knuckles against it three times and pauses for a moment, until she hears his voice telling her to enter.
The days are growing shorter and the sun is already setting, a warm glow bleeding in through the tall windows. The light makes Aemond’s hair appear more golden than silver. He’s sitting on the sofa, suit jacket open, tie discarded, the first few buttons of his shirt undone, hair dishevelled, like he’s been running his hands through it.
Criston Cole is sat in an armchair and nods to her when she walks in. Otto Hightower sits with his back to the door, Alicent beside him.
They’ve been in here for hours, the table between them is covered in empty coffee cups and newspapers with bold headlines. Some have moved on from the Aegon scandal, others have not.
She looks to Aemond for an instruction.
He beckons her with a single finger, anticipation already pooling in her belly despite their company. She stands beside him, hovering by the arm of the sofa where Aemond leans against his elbow, clutching her papers close to her chest.
Otto greets her by name. She’s rather proud of how far she’s come since her first day, scared to even step foot in his office.
He and Cole continue to discuss the Duskendale by-election which will inevitably take place in light of Aegon’s removal. Otto says this will be an opportunity for the Blacks to capitalise on the scandal, win themselves another seat in Parliament and put pressure on the Greens, on Aemond. Alicent listens all the while, picking at her fingernails.
“Rhaenyra will pick someone close to her, someone charismatic,” Otto says, looking directly at her.
Why would he do that, does he expect a note to be taken on the conversation?
Aemond’s hand appearing on her waist takes her by surprise. She stares down at him wide-eyed at his carelessness. He doesn’t seem worried as he gently pulls her down to sit on the arm of the sofa. His arm stays wrapped around her back, his hand slotting into the curve of her body, his thumb tracing circles against her shirt.
She tries to look at Otto and Cole without drawing too much attention to herself, but they don’t seem surprised at Aemond’s little display of affection. Alicent stares at them passively.
“Who in the Black Party has any charisma?” Cole says dryly. “She’s hardly got any allies left.”
“Jacaerys,” Otto says.
Cole scoffs. “He’s fresh out of uni.”
“He’s young but he has appeal,” Alicent says. “Certainly more than Aegon ever did.” She says it so gently but with no hesitation.
“And a good speaker,” Aemond adds, “people respond to him, he’s likeable.”
One more question remains, a ceaseless itch in her brain, as distracting as Aemond’s hand clinging to her body. She clears her throat softly. “Who’s our candidate going to be?”
Aemond’s grip on her waist tightens and he looks up at her, dying sunlight beaming over his face, catching on the tip of his nose, the curve of his lip, the lines of his jaw. “We’ve been discussing that.”
She hates this, feeling like she’s a step behind everyone else in the room. She looks up at the faces of Otto and Cole. Aemond has a sister, Helaena, but she stays away from public life. His younger brother, Daeron, is still studying. There are also plenty of Hightower cousins, people already in their inner circle.
“If we are all in agreement,” Otto says, fixing his suit jacket as he stands. “Come, Alicent.”
Aemond’s mother has always been a glamorous woman, younger than she appears. It’s not something she’s ever noticed before but she has such a solemn look about her, wide brown eyes and fallen lips.
Aemond stands to kiss her on both cheeks. “Thank you,” he says, softly, still loud enough for her to hear it.
“I trust your judgement,” she says.
With that the three of them leave the room and Aemond closes the door behind her.
She’s still sitting unsurely on the arm of the sofa, resisting the urge to dig her fingernails into the leather.
Aemond turns to face her. He slips off his suit jacket and places it carefully on the coat hanger by the door. He takes measured steps towards the sofa. “I have something to tell you. Sit down.”
Her stomach drops at the sinisterly soft tone of his voice, but she does as he says, slipping from the arm to the sofa itself, only to find she cannot sit comfortably. The back isn’t quite in the right place, the seat is too soft, like she’s melting into it. She tries to sit with her back straight, her legs crossed, her hands in her lap and her head held high as he approaches her.
By now she thinks she has a good read of him, the subtleties in his expressions, the hints into his mind. She can’t read him now. He looks at her with excitement, with something softer, with a look of hunger and lust. But she can tell that he’s far too happy with himself.
“You look nervous. Are you nervous?” he says, undoing the buttons on his cuffs and pulling them up to bare his hands, the muscles and tendons of his forearms.
“Well, I don’t know what’s going on.”
“It’s exciting, I promise.”
Exciting to him, clearly.
“Alright,” she says.
Aemond stands before her and smiles, only for a moment. Usually, in this position, he’d reach out for her cheek, maybe he’d lean down to kiss her.
He just looks at her, with amusement, wonder, curiosity, perhaps even pride. With a small hum to himself, Aemond says, “we need a candidate for Duskendale.”
“So I’ve heard,” she says, quietly but defiantly.
“I want it to be you.”
She feels her eyes go wide. The room feels cold and close. She can hear Aemond breathing through his nose, slow and steady.
After a few moments of silence, Aemond says, “what do you think?”
It takes her too long to find her breath. “You suggested it to Otto?”
“Yes. He and my mother agree, you’ll be perfect.”
Heat flushes in her face. She feels an urge to laugh, or cry, or grab him by the shoulders and ask him why in seven fucking hells he thinks this would be a good idea.
But then this is what she’s always wanted. This is why she studied so relentlessly, spent hours and hours in the library pouring over textbooks, why she gave up sleep to meet her deadlines, missed meals to afford rent in Sunspear, dedicated so much of herself to the extra work, all so she could have the very job Aemond is offering her on a silver platter.
It would be worth it, wouldn’t it? Knowing she could actually make a difference to the world that seemed determined to have her fail.
What if she asks him “why?” What if she gives him a reason to doubt her and he snatches that chance away?
She barely registers Aemond’s hands closing around hers before he pulls her up to stand. His forehead and his nose rest against hers, his breath warm over her skin. His lips are almost upon hers but he doesn’t move to kiss her, he keeps her waiting and restless.
“They’ve all agreed,” he mutters, “we need someone with no history, no scandals, nothing that could be held against us, not after the mess Aegon’s made.”
She pauses, pulling back a little so they can meet eye to eye. “You want me because I won’t embarrass you?”
Aemond tilts his head. “I want you because you’re the best option.” He leans in again, pressing a delicate kiss to her forehead, then her temple, then her cheek. “You’d be a perfect fit, you’re intelligent, you’re meticulous, you don’t miss details and you’re unafraid to speak your mind.”
He presses a kiss to the corner of her mouth but she turns her head. “I want to feel like I’ve earned it,” she utters.
Aemond’s mouth trails to her neck instead, kissing her firmly. “You have earned it,” he says, his hands moving to her waist, squeezing her, claiming her. His touch roams over the rest of her body while he kisses her neck, her thighs, her rear, anything he can reach.
It’s dangerous how she responds when his hands are in the right place, and he knows it. But she reaches for his wrists to make him stop when he starts to tug on the waist of her skirt with his fingers.
“Is that what you think this is,” she says, “do you think I’m only trying to get a career out of you?”
Aemond frowns.
“Do you think I want to be remembered as some shallow opportunist? Is that all you think I deserve?”
When he hums it catches in the back of his throat. He makes a small pout with his lips, the way he often does when he’s thinking.
“You have an opportunity to do something remarkable here,” he says, his voice low and chilling as he takes her chin in his fingertips. “Look at all the work you’ve done for me already, why deny yourself the chance to do more?”
It doesn’t have to be a denial, does it? Saying no to him would only mean she could take a different path, her own path, on her terms. Unless this is it. Unless she says no and this is the end of everything.
His fingertips press into her jaw, as if his patience is wearing thin with every passing moment.
She looks into his single violet eye and the sapphire prosthetic set in his left socket, determined to stand her ground. “Not like this,” she says.
Aemond tuts. “Are you worried you won’t get in? You’ll get the seat, I’ll make sure you do. You’ll get the career you’ve wanted for so long, you’ll get everything you’ve worked for.” There’s desperation in his voice, something familiar and yet primal. His thumb gently strokes over her cheek to her lower lip. “I’ll keep you with me. Wouldn’t you like that?”
Reason slips from her mind and something dangerous tightens in her gut. “What do you mean–”
Her question ends up muffled against his lips as Aemond kisses her, deeply and desperately, pulling her into him, closer and closer.
She holds her hands up and the only place for her palms to go is against his chest so she can feel his heat and his heartbeat through his shirt. She parts her lips, welcoming his tongue and his teeth, welcoming the way he consumes her.
“Once you’re in Parliament we can make things official,” he mutters between their kisses.
He goes in to kiss her again and she pulls back. “What?”
He huffs impatiently, taking her face in both his hands. “I need someone reliable by my side, someone like you. It’ll be good for my image, and for the party, to appeal to family values.”
She feels herself scowling. “Did your grandfather tell you that?”
“Don’t give me that look,” he says teasingly,
“What about all the work I’ve done already? I can’t give everything up?”
“What would you be giving up?”
Infuriatingly, her mind is suddenly blank.
Through the windows behind them, the sun is setting lower and lower in the sky, the golden rays only shining brighter as night creeps in. The world is as it was when they first met. Aemond’s eye burns in the light, his eye that has bored into hers as he’s pushed her over the threshold of bliss, that finds her across crowded rooms, that must have seen every inch of her skin.
“We’ll announce an engagement before you’re confirmed as our candidate,” he says. He comes to kiss her gently. The moment could almost feel tender, if he were not seeking to uproot her entire life. “You’re perfect,” he whispers against her lips. “Say yes to me, please, I need you to say yes.”
It’s easy to get lost in Aemond Targaryen, in his intensity, in his rare offerings of praise and approval. Her arms find their way around his neck, pulling herself into him, absentmindedly rocking her hips against his. His promises excite her as much as they terrify her.
“Say it,” he purrs, his voice catching in his throat as he walks her back. “I need an answer from you.”
The backs of her knees hit the edge of the sofa. She takes a moment to breathe and find her bearings.
Aemond’s eye is hooded and dark, his lips pressed together. She can feel it all simmering under the surface, his hunger, his desperation.
He needs her. He cannot lose this seat to the Blacks, he can’t give them space to challenge him. He can’t let Aegon’s indiscretions overshadow everything he’s been working towards. The Greens need to purge themselves of this damning image, they need a clean slate, and they’re willing to put her in the centre of government to get it.
“I’ll do it,”
His kiss is harsh when he captures her lips again, needy and commanding as he grabs at her waist.
She lets out a breath of surprise when he positions her to lay back on the sofa without parting from her. He’s over her, pressing her into the plush leather, a firm hold trailing from her neck, her wrists, her sides, her breasts through her blouse.
He undoes the buttons slowly, kissing the exposed parts of her flesh of her chest and stomach. When he has the blouse off completely he makes quick work of undoing her bra, discarding that to move his attention to her breasts. He toys with her nipples with his thumbs, lips and tongue until she’s writhing beneath him. She can already picture the bruises that will bloom in his wake.
He’s slow with her skirt too, she can hardly stand it, feeling the fabric and his fingertips dragging down her legs. With her shoes removed, Aemond sits back on his haunches and wraps his hands around one of her ankles, smirking as he strokes small circles over a sensitive spot of her skin.
“Please,” she utters, reaching her fingers out to graze his stomach, still hidden underneath a perfectly white shirt.
“I know, I know,” he coos, hooking his fingers in her panties to pull them from her legs. “I just like seeing you like this.
He wastes no more time, placing her ankle over his shoulder, spreading her other knee with a wide palm and leaning down until his face is between her legs. He knows to start slowly, to tease her with slow drags through her folds. It’s an infuriating feeling but she savours it. It’s the burn she loves, being dragged towards pleasure like a continual tide lapping at the shore.
She craves these unhurried moments, and she supposes there will only be more once Aemond gets his way.
His motions increase in speed when her breath quickens and she starts to squirm, with whispered mumblings of “please… I’m so close… please.” He borders on frantic, hums of approval vibrating against her centre.
It builds and builds until it releases a bloom of warmth in her belly that soon fades back into need when Aemond untangles himself from her. She watches him undo the rest of the buttons on his shirt, as he unbuckles his belt and yanks it from the loops in his slacks. He bares himself to her. There’s no pride this time, just awe when he looks at her.
He positions himself above her, running the tip of his cock, already hard and leaking, against her, pushing against her clit with every gentle thrust.
She holds onto his arms for leverage, letting herself succumb to the sensation, the smell of his aftershave and his sweat, the heat and the sound of their breaths in unison.
“I mean it,” he says with a sigh, “I think you’re perfect.”
She smiles, planting a peck against his lips, before she slides a hand between their bodies and positions him at her entrance. She’s taken him enough times but the initial stretch has her gritting her teeth.
Aemond stills. “We can–”
“I want to take it,” she utters, “I want to feel you,”
His resolve melts, but he doesn’t push further, waiting for a nod from her before he inches himself deeper inside her.
Their bodies mould against each other, her arms around his shoulders, his head nestled into her neck, his breath hot against her skin as he pants. She watches him thrusting into her, chasing his own pleasure as he nudges against a spot inside her that leaves her feeling weightless.
He tries to increase his pace, but the back of the sofa hinders him somewhat. He grunts in frustration, gathering her in his arms and moving them both to the fur rug on the floor with ease. He brings her legs onto his shoulders and pushes into her once more, to the hilt, eliciting a gasp from her.
He chuckles to himself, showing his teeth and licking his lips. “You like that?”
“Yeah, fuck,” she breathes.
“Know you like it when I’m nice and deep,” he mutters, fucking her with swift snaps of his hips. With one hand on the floor he takes a gentle hold of her neck with the other, leaning in so her thighs are pressed against her chest. “My pretty girl, my perfect girl.”
Her second climax is within reach, she feels the heat rising inside of her, her hips trying to buck but she’s caged by him.
Aemond’s hold on her neck tightens. “You’re close,” he says with a wicked smile on his lips.
Her back arches from the floor, head thrown back in ecstasy. “Don’t stop,” she pleads, “please don’t fucking stop…”
She clings to him, each one of them at the other’s mercy.
“I’ve got you,” Aemond says, continuing to drive his hips against hers. He must be reaching his own end, his pace is starting to falter, his moans unrestrained.
Usually he makes a habit of spilling himself over her body, her stomach or her thighs.
“Aemond?” she breathes.
“You’ll take what I give you, won’t you?” he says, “you’re mine now, we might as well get a head start.”
The realisation makes her stomach drop. “Wait–” she tries to murmur between her whines, “you can’t– not yet–”
He leans in to kiss her, to soothe her, to silence her.
He comes with a guttural groan, his hips stilling against her and a warmth spreading inside of her. Her own pleasure erupts after that, she can feel herself clenching around him, her body greedy for everything he has to offer her.
Aemond stays pressed against her for a moment, his heart hammering in his chest. He withdraws from her slowly, bringing her legs down– she sees the way his eye lingers between her legs, something hot and wet dripping from within her. He gathers it with the tip of his cock, pushing himself into her again with short, shallow thrusts.
He takes her by her neck again, demanding her attention.
She gazes back at him, breathless, wide-eyed.
“There’s my good girl,” he coos. “With any luck we’ll have a due date to announce alongside your victory in Duskendale.”
#aemond targaryen#my fics#aemond x reader#aemond targaryen x reader#aemond fic#aemond targaryen fic#aemond x you#aemond smut#aemond targaryen smut#hotd fanfiction#hotd fanfic#modern!Aemond#modern!Aemond x reader#house of the dragon fanfic#ewan nation#ewan mitchell smut
900 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hi, how are you? A Headcanon of what it would be like to be Jacaerys' second wife (Baela being the first) and to spice it up a bit, the reader being the daughter Alicent
a.n: made this a lot more angsty (even tho its like not) as intended lmao but i hope you enjoy 🫶🫶
- baela had died during childbirth, her daughter having survived
- the first time you spoke to him since his wedding was at the funeral, which he barely said more than a word to you, cradling his daughter tightly in his arms
- you two were the best of friends as children
- you have loved him since you were a young girl and was devastated to hear of their engagement
- you begged and begged your mother to betroth you to him but she continued to refuse until it had been too late
- they loved each other so much which broke your heart
- you fled westeros as soon as the wedding had ended, choosing to instead spend your days in essos trying to forget about the dark eyed prince
- yet when you return he is only more handsome then when you had left
- you stay as far away from him as possible, he was so clearly grieving and you had not wished to disturb him
- you thought that would be it so late in the night with bag and hand you try to leave only to be shocked at the sight of jacaerys standing in the empty hall, clutching his cloak around himself as he stared at you
- he begged you not to go, to return to the keep with him even if its just for a little while
- it was so clear he needed someone so you agreed with much hesitation
- you tell yourself you will only stay for a week
- then a week becomes two then two becomes a month then a month becomes a year becomes two and suddenly you are living full time in the keep
- You two become close friends and you continue pushing down that deep deep feeling in your heart as you believe he will never feel the same
- yet one night you stand in the nursery, sitting on the floor giggling with the young laena who hits the blocks against each other until jacaerys shows up
- he urges a maid to come and put laena down to bed, you insist you can do it but he asks you to stay
- that is the night he kisses you for the first time
- you stop him just as quickly believing it to be a heat of the moment act
- “i did not think you would be so cruel. you must know of my affections.”
- “i am in love with you.”
- Your wedding happens a fortnight from then
- your mother was furious, she had wished for you to marry someone, someone that was not of his kind she said
- and you blew up on her
- he had heard you and as soon as you had stormed out of the room he pulled you into a dark corridor and kissed you until your legs were shaking, for more then one reason
- his family was more then happy to welcome you into their side, you became fast friends with lucerys and joffrey and due to your experience in taking care of laena you help out with aegon and viserys which puts you in the good graces of daemon
- your family however was way more reluctant about your union, taking this opportunity to tease you about your marriage to the “strong” boy. your grandsire had even managed to corner you and attempt to pursued you to break off the engagement to which you quickly shut that down
- you did not care much for your familys feelings when you were more than happy
- your wedding went smoothly and you ended up having a mini honeymoon period in dragonstone where in a few months time you and jacaerys would be living
- when he had been informed you were pregnant three moons after your wedding he turned pale
- he even begun to flat out ignore you until you confronted him and told him you would not tolerate this and he snapped out of it
- he was scared. so scared he would have to suffer through the same pain he had those years ago but you reassured him everything would be okay
- though when you were laying on the bed covered in sweat and breathing heavily he was not too sure
- he demanded he be in the room, not allowing himself to make the same mistake as last time
- he let you grip his hand so hard he thought it would pop but it was not enough to distract him from the fear he felt as he looked at you, the women he was so in love with, in so much pain
- when cries fill the room and a babe is placed in your arms he finally allows himself to cry, you had a boy.
- He snarled at the maesters when they tried to put him in his arms first or when they asked him what he would like to name him
- he was furious at the disrespect you were facing but you did not care.
- “what about laenor?” You look up at him and smile
- he places a kiss on your forehead as he beams down at the babe. “its perfect.”
---
not tagging my perm taglist just cause this is something rlly small 😭😭
#house of the dragon#hotd#hotd imagine#jacaerys targaryen x reader#jacaerys velaryon x reader#jacaerys strong#prince jacaerys#jacaerys targaryen#jacaerys velaryon#hotd jacaerys#jacaerys x reader#jace x you#jace velaryon#jace targaryen#jace x reader#hotd fanfic#hotd x reader#hotd x y/n#house of the dragon fanfiction#house of the dragon fanfic#house targaryen#jacaerys
364 notes
·
View notes
Text
Together As One (Daemon x Reader)
So this is more a twisted love type of hype, I hope you guys like the way I portrayed this request cause I wanted to give it more of a dark edge since Daemon is definitely a gray character. Hope you enjoy!
Mothers love their children, everyone could agree upon the unconditional love mothers held for their kind with no doubt in their hearts, songs, poems, plays, and any type of art one can think of have attempted to portray such devotion. None, however, could predict that some mothers have a certain type of fear for their child, like some whisper in the back of their heads warning them about the little glimpse in their eyes that was not like the stars but more of a scorching fire threading to burn everything.
That was the exact feeling Rhaenys had for her beloved daughter, the twin sister of Laenor, it would often baffle her how her husband could not see what was clearly there, (y/n) was always in competition with everyone about everything, the finest clothes belonged to her, she had to ride a dragon first, learn Valyrian faster.
Whilst Rhaenys prayed for her daughter's thirst to settle, the others praised her for her bravery, her determination, and her intellect, something that made (y/n) yearn for more.
“I would like to raise a toast to my dear brother, a married man to our future queen, may your wedlock be blessed with numerous children and a road paved with nothing but joy and success, Prince Daemon, hopefully you are next”
(Y/n) stood with a smile of triumph dancing on her lips before she raised her cup to gently take a sip, as she sat down Daemon's eyes followed her, he was well aware of her game, though he seemed unfazed and almost amused by her comment the truth laid somewhere deeper than the surface, not a single soul in this room would have been able to guess that the delighted twin of now future king consort was playing a game of cat and mouse with none other than prince daemon behind closed doors.
(Y/n) had been relentless in her ways to seduce Daemon, sneaking out at all hours of the night, sending people after him so she could know his whereabouts just so she could magically appear, the combination of sweet wine and her alluring voice was enough for Daemon to stumble and fall right on top of her, taking her for a ride to the addictive roads of lust.
She was stunning, flawless, a true Targaryen that screamed opulence and elegance with a face sculpted by the gods, the common folk would gush over the “oceans Angel” a nickname given by the realm for her angelic features, how would they know how dark her mind could get in order to make everyone yield before her?
-
“Mother”
“Dearest, how are you on this fine morrow?”
“I am well, the little one finally decided to let me get some rest”
“When I was pregnant with you I remember thinking you would kick your way out of my belly, the Apple does not fall far from the tree”
(Y/n)s daughter, Leora, leaned as much as she could to kiss her mother's cheek before she sat down next to her to break her fast, queen Alicent had already taken her seat along with her daughter Heleana and (y/n)s other son Elion, Alicent and (y/n) enjoyed each others presence, a mutual bond based on respect had been build over the years that was sealed by marrying Leora with Aegon and Elion with Heleana.
“The maester said you should drink more orange juice, it will help with the fatigue”
“As well as eat more meat, pregnancy is no easy task, you must be as strong as ever”
Alicent chimed, the birth of her second grandchild was one of the most important events, Alicent adored her first grandchild, beautiful Hael, a strong boy who was just now starting to learn how to walk, still, he had everyone wrapped around his finger.
“I appreciate your concerns but I am fine, healthy as a horse”
“It wouldn’t hurt, let us not risk it dearest”
“I thought once I get older I wouldn’t have to listen to my mother”
“Well I am sorry but that will never happen, drink”
(Y/n) had stepped up and appeared as the perfect mother, loving, kind, and caring, she did love her children, however, what she loved most was the things they could do for her, her firstborn daughter was now the wife of the king first born son, and her son was a strong, skill full knight that served the realm and came back in triumph, how could she not adore her perfect creations?
“How is the king?”
“I am afraid his health is decreasing, the maesters advise him to remain abed for the day”
“Rhaenyra will be questioned, he won’t sit this one out I am afraid”
“Ugh the precious Rhaenyra, I wish I could stay in my chambers until those god-forsaken days pass”
(Y/n)s smile was wiped from her face and in an instant it was replaced with an angry scowl, in a split second her hand had grasped her daughter, Leoras' eyes went wide with fear when they met the angry hues of her mothers.
“You mustn’t speak in such a way, I’ve taught you better”
Leora only nodded frantically, (y/n) had her own opinions over Rhaenyra, she however, knew better than to voice them, not even in such a secluded area of the palace, (y/n)s hold turned from forceful to a caress before she directed her eyes back to her friend and queen Alicent.
“Besides, the king will do as he wishes and if the gods bless him with the strength to stand he should be there, isn’t it right Alicent?”
“I couldn’t have phrased it better, my dear”
-
(Y/n) and Alicent were each other's shadows, one compelled the other and in the end one way or the other the result was one of their favor, (y/n) was disciplined and had mastered the act of a gracious and lovely princess, Alicent was strict and slipped under everyone’s nose as she cloaked herself with the act of a pious queen, the two of them had years up on the horse of being able to maneuver their way around the kingdom so the men would not suspect a damn thing.
Viserys had seemed to get worst which made him unable to attend even when Daemon and (y/n) went to his room to assist him, the king could not even sit up let alone walk, Daemon was disheartened, thankfully for him his dutiful and beautiful wife let him rest on her shoulder and like a soothing salve her encouraging words went over his wound of his beloved older brother nearing his end.
“My Love”
“(Y/n)? What- what has happened?”
“I apologize for waking you up my dear, it is your brother”
“Viserys? What about- no”
“My dear husband, you must be strong, I am so sorry”
(Y/n) grasped Daemon's hands tightly before she brought them up to her lips to kiss his knuckles, of course, she was one of the first to know, Alicent had rushed to her chamber and delivered the news herself, she had waited patiently as the king took his last breath, Alicent told no one, not even the maester, (y/n) had to know before anyone.
“Viserys”
Daemon had been taken over by his thoughts, they’ve always had their differences but at the end of the day, they shared the same mother and father, a bond that could never be broken, no matter how many times Daemon has run off he always ended up by Viserys side.
“My love, I understand that this is too much for you, however, we must prepare our daughter”
“What does Elora have to do with this?”
“She is to be queen, she needs her father”
“Queen? Have you gone mad?”
(Y/n) bit her bottom lip in combination with her head tilting to the side, as if nothing but a mere candle lit her face Daemon could still identify the features that he so adored but now he could not wrap his head around what was his wife suggesting.
“My lord husband, King Viserys has left us, it is only natural for his son to succeed him”
“It is expected for his firstborn, Rhaenyra, to do so, not Aegon”
“Where is the princess? But in a place where she could have visited if she wished, when has she even attempted to come and visit her beloved father who was in agony all these years? She only came when her privilege was at risk and then blamed Alicent who has served by the king's side for his illness”
“This is not a matter to discuss”
“But it is, the gods know I loved Viserys and he had been good to me, but let us not forget he killed his first wife in his desperate attempt for a male heir, he remarried and Alicent gave him an heir and a spare and still it was not good enough, he passed by you and his sons to bury his guilt by calling Rhaenyra the heir, it wasn’t because he trusted her or because he saw something in her, he passed the title on to her because he did not trust you and then because he wanted to wash the blood of queen Aemmas from his hands”
Silence fell upon them, (y/n) pulled away from her husband and headed towards the door, as his hand rested upon the handle she turned her head back to lord husband who was visibly shaken, (y/n) might appear disheartened but she could detect that her monologue had started to creep on to Daemons heart.
“I love you with all my heart, that is why I shall leave you to grieve, if you wish to run to her I will…. Understand, it is not like I ever doubted the unconditional love you have for the realm delight, now might be your chance to pursue it”
Her tone was drowning in sorrow leaving Daemon with an unwavering sense of guilt in a dark room as his wife had disappeared to place her hand over a war of fire and blood, (y/n) was correct, Daemon did love Rhaenyra, still, he did not place his flame for her over what he had built with his wife over the years.
(Y/n) walked away with a smile of triumph, she had done her part flawlessly and now she was certain that Daemon would be by her side before the crown was placed on Aegons head, however, she did not have time to waste, Alicent and (y/n) were the ones to wake the new king and queen, preparing them for what they had destined to be.
“You may enter”
“Prince Daemon is asking to see his daughter and wife, alone”
(Y/n) stopped brushing her daughter's head, carefully placing the golden brush down before she looked down at her daughter who nodded in approval.
“Let him in, do not allow anyone to disturb us”
“Right away”
The girl curtsied as quickly as possible before she disappeared only to be replaced by none other than Daemon. (Y/n) took a sharp inhale through her nose once he entered the room, preparing herself for a mental battle, surprisingly when her eyes scanned for his she was met with a certain lightness, an ease to him that caught her by a pleasant surprise.
Instinctively a small smile played on her lips, her Daemon was dressed in his black attire, leather suited him, and his hair was pulled away from his face the way she always told him to do it.
(Y/n) was not made of stone, she might play like she is though her heart skipped a beat every time she was near her lord husband, Daemon was one of the very few people that (y/n) would throw herself in the fire, even though their love felt like the flames licked her back, that sweet pain of admiration and devotion that the poets would sing and the common folk would go mad.
“My dearest loves”
Daemon declared, that their daughter rose from her chair and ran to her father, she was always the one known to succumb to emotions and this time (y/n) could not scold her over it, Leora was her father's daughter, (y/n) might not have spoken over the matter only to allow the young girl the solidarity of her feelings, inside Leora was always waiting for her father to walk through this door.
“You look beautiful, a perfect gown for the queen”
“Father I-“
“Before I handed you over to Aegon I made you a promise, do you remember it?”
“I will do anything to see you happy”
“I will put myself through war if you tell me that this is what you want, all you have to do is say it”
Daemon was no fool, he was certain that the second that crown graced his daughter's head a war would nip their heels, Rhaenyra would not go down without a fight and that meant that Daemon would have to face her in battle, a battle he was willing to put for his lovely Leora.
“I want to be queen, I want Aegon to be our king”
“Very well, I wish you a fruitful reign, may the Gods smile down upon you”
‘May the Gods have mercy on us’ he thought, with a smile he brushed away those dark thoughts only to place a kiss on his daughter's forehead, a small part of him screamed that this was the right thing, his brother never thought he was good enough, now his brother was on the ground and his daughter was crowned queen and would carry on the legacy of the Targaryen name.
“Go on now, I want to have a word with your mother”
“I will be waiting for you”
Leora informed them before she gave them the privacy Daemon desired. (Y/n) stood as still as a statue, her heart pounding on her chest as her throat grew dry and scratchy, she was the master of composure up until now, faced with the only person who could make her waver.
“My beautiful, sweet lady wife, you spoke harshly last night”
“I spoke nothing but the truth”
She threw back in a cold tone. Daemon only smirked as he started to approach her, she did not dare to move, (y/n) was comforted by his light-hearted manner though there was an underlying mischief, Daemon was playing something, and (y/n) was left trying to catch up before it is too late.
Daemon stood before her, his arm finding her forearms and giving them a gentle squeeze, his eyes gazing back at hers with a glimmer that (y/n) had grown to yearn for, she despised the fact that she had to manipulate him like this, she was left with no other choice but to do this, a side of hers cursed the day Rhaenyras and Daemons fates met, this would have been so much easier had (y/n) been the only women Daemon loved.
“You are so bright, I am almost disappointed that you didn’t foresee this”
“The war?”
“No, me, you think I have not caught wind of all the scheming against Rhaenyra? The upbringing of my daughter to become the wife of my brother's firstborn son, putting our son on the sea the minute he was born to have better knowledge of anything driftmark related to gain the favor of your father, every step you so amazingly calculated with Alicent so you can get our family here”
“You have gone mad”
“I saw behind the facade and that makes you nervous, I was there with you every step of the way you mustn’t be frightened, I let you do all this for only one reason”
“Alright, let us entertain this absurd claim of yours, what is the reason?”
“Because I love you”
(Y/n) mouth slightly parted in shock, Daemon had professed his love for her on multiple occasions but the weight on this one was different, he had pulled what she thought was the perfect cover, leaving her bare in front of him, uncovering her thirst that she had kept away from everyone.
“I love you so much that I will let my daughter become the target on Rhaenyras mind, I will go against the woman that you think threatens your position in my heart, I will put myself in the sword before I let her even get one strand of your hair because you and our daughter want this”
“And you don’t? You always held a grudge over the fact that Viserys never declared you as his heir”
“My brother is dead now and because of you our child wishes to be a queen, I picked you as my second wife because I saw your strength, your determination, you need to come on top, that is the Targaryen fire through and through”
“You truly mean all this?”
“You are my lady wife, you gave me a home, now it is time to show the realm that we are the rightful heirs of the throne, together as one”
(Y/n) reached daemons lips for a passionate kiss, his hands slid down to her waist and pulled her as close as humanly possible, sharing this moment meant everything to (y/n), she had him devotedly by her side, he saw her true nature and walked straight into her fire, surrendering in her and even shielding her and her family.
“Let us find out daughter, I want us to be the ones to place the crown on her head”
“I wouldn’t dare let anyone else have that honor”
Requests are open!
#hotd fanfic#hotd imagine#hotd#hotd fic#hotd x reader#daemon targeryen x reader#daemon#daemon targaryen x y/n#daemon targaryen headcanon#daemon targaryen x oc#daemon targaryen fic#daemon targaryen fanfic#daemon targaryen fanfiction#daemon targaryen x reader#daemon targaryen imagine#daemon targaryen x you#daemon targaryen#daemon targeryan#daemon x reader#hotd daemon#daemon x you#daemon imagine#house of the dragon fic#house of the dragon#hotd fluff#SoundCloud
461 notes
·
View notes
Text
Decided to do one of those little head-canon things.
First things first:
Chloe looks like cinnamon roll.
Red does not.
Makes sense right? Chloe is a good girl who eats her vegetables, reads history books for fun, and goes to bed on time.
Red is a wildcard that breaks out (of her own house) and causes destruction (of her own house.)
Going by that, it would be safe to assume Chloe is indeed a cinnamon roll and Red could kill you without breaking a sweat. And you would be forgiven for thinking that.
Except Chloe has been learning to use a sword since she was five. Has sparred with the every knight stationed at her family’s castle at least twice by the time she was nine. And won her first competition at thirteen.
Red, on the other hand, was twelve when she decided she’d finally had enough and start breaking rules. Which usually meant just breaking things in general, and sometimes finding creative outlets for her artistic expression.
Red was a girl of hard edges around a soft interior. Chloe was soft features that hid a duty hardened soul.
It was one of the things that made them perfect for each other.
Red has never known what it means to feel safe her whole life. All Chloe knows is how to protect that which matters most.
It took a long time for her to prove it to Red, but when she did it was like she was seeing the girl for the first time. Not Red the closed off rebel, but Red the girl. And yes while she has seen Red look vulnerable before, it was never like this.
Never with eyes so wide open and almost scared, but also hopeful as Chloe kneeled before her. Sword plunged into the ground at her side as she swore to always be there for her, if Red would have her.
Of course the only way Chloe knew how to confess was how a knight would, it just made so much sense. How could Red ever have anyone else after this.
It would be impossible.
Just like they are in a way. The daughter of the Queen of Hearts with her very own Princess Charming.
But living in Wonderland wasn’t completely terrible. Sometimes good things did shine through the bad. She remembers hearing the stories of Alice and the importance of believing in impossible things. Six before breakfast, my dear, no more no less. At least one of those things has to come true.
Red thought it was hogwash, but it didn’t stop her heart from trying.
Except it’s not hogwash for one of those things has come true, and she couldn’t care less if it never happens again.
Chloe was her one impossible thing she’d spend the rest of her life being grateful for.
199 notes
·
View notes
Text
The Queen of Death
Part (1/?)
Fandom- House of the Dragons
Being Lord Corlys and Princess Rhaenys first born, your farther heir
Your were the most sweet and kindest child and that stayed with your until you were a maiden
But you never forget that you are Princess Rhaenys (the queen who was never) is your mother, your leaned many things over the years from her
You were a year younger that Rhaenyra and your grow up together
You both even claimed your dragon (Vermithor) at the same time as each other
Your were best friends and told each other everything
Even your little crush on one of the king’s guards Harwin Strong
You thought nothing would never changed your friendship
Even when she married your younger brother Leanor Velaryon’s and your marrying your first love Harwin
but your were mistaken when your was hold little baby Jacaerys
Your were heart broken when you was holding the babe in your arms
-Over the years your knew that Rhaenyra and Leanor marriage wasn’t perfect but she told you they have arrangement
But she never told you it was with your fucking husband
“I guess the little babe has more Arryn then targaryen”
That was the last thing you said before going mute
Your never felt so betrayed
Your husband, your best friend and your brother
Your cried in your mothers are for days and still hasn’t said a word, Rhaenys was heartbroken
She couldn’t done nothing but hold you
If Rhaenys was the ask the king for annulment the king would say no, just to keep Rhaenyra safe from the rumors
“Cousin you can not be that stupid” r
“Rhaenys watch yourself, we are family but am still king” v
“REALLY want to talk about family, Rhaenyra should learn the meaning of family!”
So her daughter had to stay in the marriage, but she would do everything to keep her first safe
Corlys was furious, there are no word to explain
He wants to pack up his daughter things and move her back to Driftmarks
But Harwin wouldn’t let it happen, after the birth of Jacaerys your wouldn’t speak a word to him
“She is my wife and she will not be going anywhere!”
He would try to grab your had and you would pull away
Ask you to had dinner with him and only meet with no response
Try to get physical and say ..
“I think is time for a baby” h
“….” Y/n walk out the room
And when your move out of your shard quarters together, he know he had lost you
Rhaenyra would do anything to get you back
She would try to have you break her fast with her in the morning - your mother would shut it down in a heartbeat
Tried having you go on walks in the garden with her and Jace but would find you with Queen Alicent children instead
Tried flying with you but be Vermithor would have Rhaenyra lost in the clouds and lost site of you
Even tried summoning you to dinner and sit right next to her, she would talk and talk to try to get something out of you
Even tried telling that Harwin didn’t mean a thing but then get caught up in her words, everything comes out bad
But you never utter a word
And you used it against everyone, even the king hisself
“So y/n how have you been feeling” v said in front of the dinner table “I heard you been unwell” v
“….” You
“Y/n-“ v
“Cousin leave her be” r
The king would try to talk to you but Your mother had your back no matter what
Some people found it rude or disrespectful but you had no feeling left to give
Everyone saw the change in you, you were the girl who was smile at everything and one
And now they never seen a smile on your face, unless it was with the Queens children
It’s been months since the birth of Jacaerys, the king was having a tournament for the babe, all the lords and lady’s where coming to celebrate
The looks and the whispers alone was getting louder and you couldn’t take it
You stood next your husband at the feast, when you saw that everyone was distracted you took your chances
In your room, your grabbing your ridding gear, a few pouches of gold coins. Not needing any else but the clothes on your back
Found your way to the dragon pit, got on Vermithor and fly
You didn’t know where you was going but you knew it was away from kings landing
Flying for hours, you found yourself in a storm
-Vermithor having a hard time trying to navigate again it….
Thing everything went black……
When you wake up, you were on a island… The death Island
(Had this in my head for awhile, don’t know how many parts but let me know if you want this in story!!)
#thequeenofdeath#Velaryon#velaryon reader#corlys velaryon#corlys velaryon x reader#rhaenys targaryen#rhaenys velaryon#rhaenys x reader#rhaenys the queen who never was#Driftmarks#hotd#hotd x reader#hotd imagine#got#house of the dragon#game of thrones#rhaenyra targaryen x fem reader#rhaenyra targaryen#queen rhaenyra#leanor velaryon#black reader#poc#harwin strong imagine#harwin strong#daemon targaryen x reader#daemon targaryen#jacaerys velaryon#prince jacaerys#aemond targaryen x reader#aemond targaryen
245 notes
·
View notes
Text
IMPRINTED
“I already told you - fuck you bitches and you better stay away from my friends too, or else. You know I don’t give a fuck and my uncle is one of the school governors, I can make things very difficult if you don’t leave me alone.”
Alice Brown calmly folded her arms and looked at the three biggest bullies at her school with a level, unconcerned gaze. She radiated stoic resolve and even an air of quiet menace. She was smaller, less popular and less powerful than any of the bitchy girls in front of her - but she did possess a lot of bravery and backbone.
Keisha, Mia and Chelsea all sneered and pouted their pretty pink lips, but there was also rage and frustration behind their eyes. The three bitches towered over their would-be-victim and usually had no problem dominating and bullying little loser nerds like this one - but in Alice they had finally found a victim not willing to break.
Keisha’s long acrylic nails flexed like bitchy claws as she contemplated just grabbing the little loser by her hair and dragging her down the corridor. She was the head cheerleader and her tanned toned body rippled with muscle and athletic strength. It would feel so GOOD to physically dominate Alice and wipe that smug nerdy smile off, but she knew that unlike the other girls she bullied - this bitch would tell on her and probably be believed. Keisha’s Daddy was powerful, but Alice had her own connections and it could cause problems.
Meanwhile Chelsea leaned forward in annoyance, her massive tits heaving against her blouse. Her perfect teenage titties usually were intimidating for other girls, her body was ripe and mature in a way that put the other girls here to shame and she loved being a cocktease. Her pink lips were perfect at sucking cock and her tight pussy was like heaven. She was an evil horny slut, and if she hadn’t have been so popular and powerful she’d have probably been called out for it.
The last of the three, Mia was their leader. She was smart - super fucking smart - but she used her intelligence for evil. She was a twisted evil bitch who seemed to get off on breaking other girls and had the most deliciously twisted mind. Mia could always think of a cruel put down, an insulting nickname and a plan to get what she wanted. She knew how to manipulate people and she was pretty and innocent looking, but with the dirtiest most depraved mind you could imagine. Mia’s black book was legendary as a source of blackmail material. Her burn book gave her power over everyone else - no one would cross her, not even Keisha and Chelsea.
All three girls were rich, pretty, talented and totally evil. A lifetime of having a silver spoon, pretty privilege and the power to get whatever they wanted had ruined them and made them into mega-bullies. Everyone either wanted to be like them, or was so afraid they wouldn’t dare challenge their power.
Everyone except Alice.
Alice had moved to the school a few months ago and the bullies had tried their usual tactics to assess, then dominate the new girl. Once they realised she was a nerd, they had assumed it would be easy to turn her into another one of their victims - but to their shock and horror, Alice had fought back.
Although she was small, studious and lacking in their popularity or resources - her quiet determination and kind heart had allowed her to confound the bullies power. She was now the leader of a small faction of nerds, losers and outcasts that she had brought under her protection. The bullies power was waning as the rest of the school began to see it WAS possible to stand up to them. This was a situation that could not be allowed to continue.
“Girls, let’s leave this little smug bitch to wallow in her pathetic loser lifestyle. We have more important things to do,” sneered Mia - clicking her fingers and indicating the others should follow her.
Alice watched them walk away with a palpable sense of relief. It wasn’t easy to stand up to these horrible bitches, and her heart was hammering. Hopefully they’d finally get the message and give up soon. After all, she wasn’t going to let them walk over her and her friends anymore.
***
Mia clicked her tongue in annoyance against her perfect white teeth as she idly ran a finger up and down the expensive silver necklace she held on the palm of her hand. The other girls were arguing and shouting; Keisha pushing Chelsea away as the other girl shoved her boobs into her face and they battled for dominance. Alice’s defiance was already causing their bullying friendship group to splinter and collapse. Mia needed to act fast.
“Why didn’t you just pick up that loser and ram her head down the toilet like we did to everyone else who ever stood in our way? Are you scared or something?” mocked Chelsea as she tossed back her hair and gazed defiantly into Keisha’s blue eyes.
“I don’t know bitch, I’m surprised you haven’t found a way to fuck her boyfriend and cuck her like you usually would. What’s the matter? Losing your slut appeal?”
“Shut up both of you,” commanded Mia quietly - experiencing a thrill of control as the other girls immediately obeyed. “Alice is a threat we must neutralise, but the usual tactics won’t work. We’re going to have to get creative. The only way to deal with a snake like Alice, is to make her destroy her own reputation and I have a plan.”
The other girls moved closer, hypnotised by Mia’s delivery and the sneering confidence in her voice. She held up the silver necklace. “This beautiful little thing has been passed through my family for generations. It allows the wearer to enter the body of another person and possess them. With this necklace we’re going to take control of Alice and make her destroy her own life. By the time we’re done, she’ll be a broken shell of who she is now.”
The three girls began to laugh, their eyes gleaming with malicious hunger as Mia began to tell them the full plan. Ohhhh yes, this was going to be so fucking good.
The sliver necklace tingling round her neck, Chelsea watched from around a corner, a big grin on her slutty face. Alice and her nerdy boyfriend Nathan were walking down the corridor. He was a quiet and shy boy, a total loser in Chelsea’s estimations. How could any self-respecting girl date a pathetic nerd like that?
Kissing Nathan on the cheek, Alice laughed to see him blush and she playfully bumped him on his shoulder. “What are you getting so embarrased about?” she giggled.
“I’ve never had a girlfriend before,” he shyly shrugged. “It’s kind of nice.”
Chelsea felt like she wanted to be sick as the two love birds looked into each others eyes like they were in love. Pathetic. She’d soon deal with this.
“Babe, I just need to use the toilet, hold my books will you?”
Nathan waited patiently outside whilst Alice went into the washroom. Chelea felt a surge of excitement. It was time. She waited a moment, then struck.
Walking over to the door, she ignored Nathan and walked straight into the bathroom. Her timing was perfect. Alice was at the mirror, her back turned as she washed her hands. It could not have been more perfect.
Walking up behind her victim, Chelsea groaned in pleasure as she simply walked up to Alice and then pushed inside her. She felt her hips and waist slide into Alice with a hot wet pop, she felt herself begin to slide and flow into her victim - filling her up and taking control. The necklace glowed with arcane power and the two girls were surrounded by a bright light. Alice gasped, suddenly panicking as Chelsea flowed and merged into her, her body becoming numb as Chelsea took control. “Yesss, this is my body now,” laughed the bully - sliding her torso into Alice and pushing her legs into the nerds with more sucking wet pops.
“Yessss, that’s it bitch, your body is all mine now,” hissed Chelsea. “Let me fill you up and make you into a real woman.”
With a crack, Alice’s hips pushed out and as the bully flowed into her her ass expanded too. She moaned, a delicious feeling of ecstasy filling her changing body as the superior bully flowed inside her. Chelsea’s big tits and ultra-feminine body was too slutty to be fully contained by her own skinny frame. Alice’s body was stretching and accommodating to suit her bullies sexier body.
Alice’s tiny tits began to grow and swell as Chelsea’s massive boobs forced them to swell up and grow. Her clothing ripped, but even that was merging with Chelsea - her own designer clothing transforming Alice’s into a tight black jump suit that showed off her massive new cleavage.
Alice’s braided hair untied itself and cascaded down her neck in a soft perfect wave and her features shifted slightly - becoming prettier with thicker lips and hypnotic eyes. Her short stubby nails grew into a perfect manicure as with a final, slurp, Chelsea slid fully into her body. The sliver necklace was now around Alice’s neck and there was no sign that anything had happened, other than her new improved body. The possession had only taken moments.
Chelsea purred as she checked herself out in the mirror. “Not bad loser. Now I’m inside you giving you curves in all the right places, you’re quite the hottie. Mmmmh, boys are gonna want this ass so badly.”
Chelsea could feel Alice’s spirit crushed and subdued deep inside her. This body was hers now and Alice could do nothing to stop her. “Ohhh mmmh, that’s right loser. You’re going to be such a slut today. By the time I’m done, your boyfriend won’t ever speak to you again - your friends will all think you’re a slut and your reputation will be trash.”
Laughing, she turned and swayed out of the washroom, enjoying the feeling of her slutty new body. This was going to be fun.
***
Alice groaned and opened her eyes, her vision swimming. Where was she? What was happening? The last thing she remembered was washing her hands in the bathroom, then there had been this strange feeling and then it had all gone hazy.
Her body ached, it felt different… strange somehow. Her tits… her tits were bigger. MUCH bigger. She reached up with unfamiliar nails and brushed back long silky hair. Her lips felt swollen and her face different somehow.
Looking around, Alice saw she was in her bedroom. Crawling over to the mirror, she gasped as she saw the girl in the mirror. It was definitely her - but a her that looked like she had been inflated and transformed somehow. Her tits were now huge, her ass rounder and her body generally prettier. Big hooped earrings hung from her ears and her clothing was tighter. She looked just like a…
SLUT
The words were buzzing on her phone.
SLUT, YOU SLUT, SLUTTTTTTTT
Gasping Alice opened her phone and her heart skipped a beat as she saw message after message from everyone at school.
There was a video attached. A social media video that had thousands of views.
In the video a girl was on her knees in the boys locker room. The entire football team surrounding her. Big hard cocks were being pumped by two eager hands, thick blowjob lips sucking another. The girl in the middle was a moaning, eager, fuck-slut. Her top was down, her massive tits swinging free as she gulped and sucked and swallowed. Cum rained down over her giggling, moaning face… a face that Alice recognised.
Her face.
“No… noooooooo,” she groaned, the phone dropping from her numb fingers. This was impossible. This couldn’t be!
Glancing down at the screen, Alice saw that Nathan was now the laughing stock of the school as well. Her relationship with him was over.
Alice began to cry…
***
“WHAT THE FUCK HAS YOUR STUPID NECKLACE DONE TO ME!” screeched Chelsea as she examined herself in the mirror, her once pretty face contorted in rage.
Mia and Keisha looked at their friend as she raged in front of the mirror. This hadn’t been part of the plan.
Chelsea’s once magnificent chest was now average, the boobs smaller and normal sized. Her ass was flatter, her lips now thinner. She just looked kind of average.
Mia shrugged. “It looks like you left part of yourself inside Alice when you possessed her. I was concerned this might happen. Don’t worry, there will be a way to reverse it. I just need to consult my family records. Meanwhile, the plan worked perfectly. Your little suck-fest in the locker room means Alice is now seen as the biggest slut at school. But we aren’t done yet. There are still those who will stay loyal to her and forgive her. We need to totally isolate her and that’s where you come in Keisha.”
Keisha shook her head, pouting. “No fucking way, not after what has happened to Chelsea.”
“If we don’t follow through our plan,” snarled Mia, “then what has happened to Chelsea will be in vain. We need you to possess Alice next, I’m telling you that this imprinting effect is temporary. I’ll find a way to get Chelsea her assets back.”
“Are you sure?” asked Keisha suspiciously.
“Of course I’m sure,” smiled Mia. “Trust me.”
***
“Look, I don’t know why I did what I did or how I ended up looking this way,” said Alice as she looked at her friends. None of them would meet her eye at first - but as she spoke they began to listen.
“Please guys. There’s something weird happening and I know what I did is wrong and disgusting. But please believe me when I say I wasn’t myself. I know Nathan will never forgive me and maybe you all won’t too, but I promise you I’ll get to the bottom of this.”
Grace, Sarah and Tina all nodded. They were willing to give their friend at least a chance to find out what was happening. “Look we have athletics practice and then after we can talk properly.”
Alice shuddered as she walked into the locker rooms and began to change. She hated how good her new body felt. Her big tits did feel nice on her chest, and she had to admit - now she was prettier - people seemed to want to listen to her and give her more of a chance. Ironically whatever had happened to make her sexier may have led to her being labelled a slut, but it was almost as if being pretty meant it didn’t matter as much.
She didn’t notice as Keisha entered behind her, the silver necklace gleaming round her neck…
***
Keisha felt good. Really fucking good.
Alice’s body had been so easy to slide into. The changes that Chelsea had already made had made the little nerd hot - but now she was even sexier. Keisha's toned cheerleader body and athletic skills had flowed easily into Alice. Every inch of her body was now tanned and toned. She had a thigh gap and she was taller, more dominant and physically powerful than ever before. Her big tits bouncing with every step, Keisha felt like a Goddess.
“Hahaha you fucking looooosers,” laughed Keisha as she kicked open the locker room door to find Alice’s friends. The four girls who only minutes before had been considering giving their friend another chance, screamed as she strode into the room.
Grabbing Grace’s hair, Keisha dragged the other girl down and laughing straddled her face.
“I’ve changed my mind you little loser bitches. I don’t need you to forgive me, I just need you to fucking FEAR me. You’re all gonna eat my ass and if you fail to please me - you’re all getting the shit kicked out of you? Understand?”
Keisha laughed as the other girls obediently knelt down. After this they would hate and despise Alice. Mia was a fucking genius, she really was…
***
Alice gasped as she awoke again from a fog of confusion. Once again her body felt different, once again she was dazed and confused. She was in her bedroom again and she still had the big tits and ass she had woken up with last time. This time though, she also appeared to be several inches taller and she was now perfectly toned and proportioned.
A new grace and athletic ability permeated every limb and as she stood up, muscle memory kicked in. Alice knew if she wanted to, she could now backflip, do the splits and more. She was a cheerleader now, with all the skills and abilities that entailed.
“What the fuck is happening to me,” she groaned walking to the mirror and trying not to be pleased at how she was looking. “I look like a total bitch.”
Her pussy got wet as she said it and without being able to control her actions, she began to touch herself…
"I'm a bitch... oh ffffuck, why does that feel so good to say? Mmmmh I'm a FUCKING BITTTTCH!"
Alice screamed as she began to cum...
***
“Damn it,” hissed Mia as Keisha and Chelsea screamed at her. “I told you it’s temporary, calm down.”
“That’s easy for you to say,” snarled Keisha who was now a short average looking girl. All of her toned athletic muscle was gone and the former cheerleader was now a nobody.
“Thanks to your dumb necklace, we’re now both average looking losers,” cried Chelsea. “You promised this would let us deal with Alice, not cause us to lose the best bits of ourselves to that useless nerd.”
“She’s hardly a nerd anymore is she?” spat Keisha. “She has your amazing tits and my toned physique. She’s taken everything from us."
“Calm down,” shouted Mia. “I told you - I’ll find a way to get your attributes back. In the meantime our plan has worked perfectly. Alice is now a social outcast and will no longer be able to stand up to us. Now leave things to me. Trust me. I’ll deal with Alice… I’ve had this all planned out from the beginning.”
***
Alice had to admit she felt good. She had orgasmed six times before leaving the house and her new stronger, sexier body did make her feel more assertive and powerful. Sure - everyone thought she was a mean cocksucking slut now and she appeared to be losing her mind, but other than that things could be worse.
Her new massive tits wobbling enticingly with every step, she was on her way to school when she saw Mia approaching. Mia was on her own and she obviously wanted to speak to Alice.
“Hello babe,” grinned Mia with a surprisingly friendly expression on her face. “I’m so pleased to see what you have become. My plan has worked perfectly - let’s grab a coffee and let me tell you what has been happening to you…”
Alice felt her mind reel in shock as she found herself obeying her former bully and linking arms with her.
What the hell was happening to her?
***
A few moments later at the coffee shop - Alice barely touched her latte as she listened to Mia’s insane tale.
Alice shook her head in amazement. “So you’re telling me you sold out your two best-friends in order to groom me as their replacement?”
“That’s right,” smirked Mia. “When you stood up to us, I saw you had the potential to be a powerful bully. You just needed the right assets and I knew I could corrupt you if I made those two idiots use the magic necklace to possess you. Now their hot bodies have imprinted onto you, you are the beautiful dominant bully and they are just average no-bodies. Together we can become besties and rule this school.”
“But you destroyed my reputation!”
“Only amongst nerds. The popular boys are all obsessed with you now. A few blowjobs in the locker room is something your reputation can recover from. Meanwhile the nerdy girls are all frightened and obedient. All you have to do is embrace your new status as a bad bitch and everyone will fall into line. Together we could rule over everyone.”
“You really do have an evil, bitchy mind,” marveled Alice. “You’re totally evil. I could never be like you. Well, not without help.”
Mia suddenly felt a strange snick round her wrist. Looking down she saw the silver necklace. Whilst she had been talking to Alice, the other girl had gotten it out of her handbag and sneaked it around her wrist.
“What are you…?”
Alice grabbed Mia and pulled her in hard for a kiss. The bullies eyes widened in shock and horror. “Yessss, merge into me Mia… give me your bitchy personality and evil mind. I fucking need it.”
Mia groaned as she began to flow into Alice. She couldn’t help it as she was sucked inside with a hot wet pop.
Alice could feel Mia’s personality taking control, but whereas when she had been possessed before she had been unaware of what was happening this time she was in control.
Using her disciplined mind she greedily sucked up the attributes she wanted from Mia, her bitchiness, her intelligence, her knowledge. She allowed the bullies personality to flow into her and become her own.
“Yessss, fucking change me… make me like you,” hissed Alice, her eyes rolling in ecstasy as she took what she wanted from the bully. Then with a moan, she ripped off the silver necklace from her wrist and felt her body divide and split.
Mia was thrown out of Alice, her personality and mind drained. She too was now just an average loser.
“Mmmmmh, that’s so much better,” grinned Alice, a slutty smirk appearing on her face. She stretched her perfect bitchy body flexing her manicured claws and enjoying the feeling of being a Goddess.
“Alice… no… what have you done?”
“I’ve taken it all you fucking loser. All your mean, evil, manipulative thoughts exist inside me now. Thanks to your dumb plan, I now have Chelsea’s slutty body, Kenzie’s toned athletic perfection and your cruel bitchy mind. I am a fucking GODDESS!”
Reaching down Alice laughed as she scooped up the silver necklace. “I hope you enjoyed your time inside me like those other bitches did, but I’m tired of being the passenger. I’m in control now and I’m never going back.”
Mia backed away in fear as Alice loomed over her.
“Your reign is over and mine is just beginning…”
***
Flanked by her two flunkies Grace and Tina (now perfected after they had drained the attributes of the other girls at school) Alice blew a kiss into the camera. It was six months since she had been fully transformed into an evil bully and she now combined all the worst aspects of her three former tormentors.
“Girls, once we finish here, let’s go find some hard cock to fuck then we can go round up some losers and bully the shit out of them.”
“Hehe, like we do everyday Alice?”
“You bet Grace. Being evil and spoiled never gets old does it?”
THE END
248 notes
·
View notes
Text
The Searing Flame (chapter in-between chapter)
- Summary: Aemond drags Grand Maester Orwlye to Aegon, so the maester can confess what he suggested to your mother.
- Paring: (wife) twin!reader/Aegon II Targaryen
- Note: This is the expansion of The Searing Flame, this chapter happens in-between the last chapter, after Orwlye suggests to Alicent that the reader should be moved into a separate chamber, away from Aegon, just before it continues with her recovery. For all the parts and more of my works, visit my blog. The list is pinned to the top.
- Rating: Mild 13+
- Word count: 1 800+
- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne
The sharp scent of burnt flesh and incense still clings to the air in your chambers, a cruel reminder of the fires that raged at Rook's Rest. Your body lies motionless beside your twin, Aegon, as the weight of your shared injuries presses down on the room like a storm about to break. You sleep deeply once more, not out of peace but because your body is struggling to mend itself, trying desperately to pull you from the constant brink.
Aegon stirs beside you, every breath a reminder of his own pain. His body, though awake, is just as broken as yours—his skin still angry with burns, his mind haunted by what almost happened. His hand, heavy with exhaustion, reaches out, instinctively finding yours. The touch of your cool skin is the only thing that reassures him, the only thing that keeps him tethered to the moment.
The door slams open. Aemond strides in, his one good eye burning with fury, dragging the reluctant figure of Grand Maester Orwyle behind him. Aegon blinks, lifting his head slightly, a wince creasing his face as he tries to focus on his younger brother.
"Wake up, brother," Aemond hisses, a cold edge in his voice as he drags the Maester toward the bed. "Orwyle has something he needs to confess."
Aegon's brows furrow as he struggles to sit up, his body protesting with every movement. His hand instinctively tightens around yours, unwilling to let go, as if even in your sleep you’re the only thing anchoring him to this world. His voice is hoarse when he speaks, barely more than a rasp. "What is it?"
Aemond pushes Orwyle forward with little gentleness, his face twisted in disgust. The Maester stumbles, looking down at his feet as though the stone floor might offer him some escape from the Targaryen fury bearing down on him.
"Tell him what you suggested to our mother," Aemond growls, his voice low and dangerous.
Orwyle glances nervously between the two brothers, his hands clasped in front of him, knuckles white. "I... I merely advised the Dowager Queen on... precautions," he begins, his voice shaking. "Queen Y/N... your sister... her condition—"
"Speak plainly, Maester," Aegon interrupts, his voice cutting through the room like a blade. His grip on your hand tightens further, a desperate edge entering his gaze.
Orwyle swallows hard, his voice trembling. "I suggested to the Dowager Queen that it might be best if... if Y/N were moved to another chamber. Somewhere quieter. Away from the distractions and—"
"To what end?" Aegon snaps, his eyes widening in alarm, a sharp heat rising in his chest. The thought of you—his twin, his wife—being taken away from him, of your shared connection being severed, even temporarily, fills him with dread. He can feel the rage bubbling up inside him, twisting through the pain that already gnaws at his bones.
Orwyle hesitates, glancing nervously at Aemond, who stands like a viper ready to strike. "Her condition is delicate. I... I fear that... that Queen Y/N may not—"
"May not what?" Aegon growls, his voice more forceful now. "Finish your words, Maester."
Aemond steps forward, his voice a vicious whisper. "He told our mother that he thinks our sister will die." He spits the words as though they poison his tongue. "And he wants to hide her away in some dark room to wait for the end."
Aegon’s heart slams against his ribs, a mixture of panic and fury overwhelming him. His breathing becomes labored, his entire being rebelling against the very idea of losing you. "She will not die," he hisses through clenched teeth. "She is stronger than you think, stronger than any of you fools could imagine."
"Your Grace, please," Orwyle pleads, his voice faltering. "I only meant—"
"You meant to hide her away, to leave her to rot while she still breathes!" Aegon’s voice is almost a roar now, his body trembling with the effort it takes to keep himself upright. His eyes blaze with a fury that even the fires of Rook’s Rest could not diminish. "Fix her, Orwyle. Do whatever you must. You will not touch her again unless it is to heal her."
Aemond steps closer, his own anger radiating off him like heat from a dragon’s breath. "You will do as my brother says," he growls. "Or I will see to it personally that your head no longer sits on your shoulders."
The threat hangs heavy in the air, and Orwyle trembles, nodding rapidly. "Of course, Your Graces. I will— I will do everything within my power. I swear it."
"Then go," Aegon commands, his voice laced with barely controlled rage. "And remember, Maester, I will hold you accountable for every breath my sister takes from this moment on."
Orwyle quickly backs out of the room, bowing his head repeatedly as he escapes the tension that coils like a snake in the chamber. The door shuts behind him, leaving only the low crackle of the hearth and the heavy breathing of the brothers in the air.
Aegon leans back against the headboard, his gaze immediately falling to your still form. His fingers brush your pale cheek, as if willing you to wake, to open your eyes and tell him you’re still here with him.
"I won’t let them take you," he murmurs softly, his voice barely a whisper now that the storm has passed. "Not ever."
A harsh silence fills the chamber as Aegon’s hand remains on yours, his thumb absently stroking the back of it as if the rhythm alone could rouse you from the slumber that holds you captive this night. His eyes are locked on your face, every breath he takes more labored than the last. You are the mirror of him, always have been, and the thought of you slipping away into the abyss once more twists his insides into knots he can’t unravel.
Aemond lingers by the door, his shadow stretching long across the floor in the low light. He watches his brother, his good eye narrowed, lips pressed into a thin line. There’s something unreadable in his expression—something that hovers between concern and frustration, though Aemond’s face is so often a mask, even Aegon struggles to know which.
"She will recover," Aegon mutters, as if speaking it aloud will make it true. His voice trembles slightly, though he tries to hide it. "She has to."
Aemond steps forward, moving closer to the bed, his boots softly scuffing the stone floor. "She’s strong, brother. But Maester Orwyle is a fool." His gaze shifts from your pale face to the burns still marking Aegon’s flesh. "You should be resting as well."
"I’ll rest when she wakes again and eats more," Aegon bites back, eyes flickering toward Aemond with a sharpness that cuts. "Until then, I’m not leaving her side."
Aemond exhales slowly, the tension in his shoulders visible. He approaches the foot of the bed, his hands clasped behind his back, watching you closely. “I wouldn’t ask you to leave her, Aegon. I wouldn’t dare. But you have to consider the cost of pushing yourself too far."
"The cost?" Aegon scoffs, his voice brittle with disbelief. "The cost is losing her. My twin, my wife—" His voice cracks slightly, and he looks away, his jaw clenched tight. "How am I to consider anything else when she’s lying here like this?"
Aemond doesn’t immediately reply. He stares at the faint rise and fall of your chest, and a rare flicker of vulnerability passes through his eye. His hand moves to grip the hilt of his sword, as if anchoring himself. He’s seen you fight alongside Aegon in spirit and resolve, always his equal, always his mirror. To see you now—broken, vulnerable—is a sight he finds hard to bear.
"I’ll see to it Orwyle doesn’t get near her again," Aemond finally says, his voice quiet but firm, almost a vow. "But you need to trust she’ll fight her way back to you. She’s always been stronger than either of us."
Aegon lets out a soft, bitter laugh, more of a grunt than anything, though there’s no humor in it. His eyes never leave your face. “I can’t trust anything right now. Not the Maesters, not the healers. Not even the gods.” His voice turns raw, desperate. “I should have been able to protect her.”
Aemond’s jaw tightens, his expression darkening. “You weren’t the one who failed, Aegon. It was the dragons. The battlefield. We’re always at their mercy.”
The words hang heavy in the air, a truth neither of them can deny. The dragons, so often a symbol of their power, are just as much a source of their destruction. Even their might could not shield you from the flames of war. The thought gnaws at both of them, filling the room with a bitter silence.
Aegon leans forward, his forehead resting against your hand, as if drawing strength from the warmth of your skin. “If she dies,” he says softly, the words almost strangled by emotion, “I’ll have nothing left. She’s everything. My other half.”
Aemond watches his brother, a flicker of pain crossing his usually impassive features. He knows the bond the two of you share—he’s seen it since you were children, always two halves of the same soul, inseparable. It’s a bond that he, despite his own strengths, has never quite understood. He lingers at the edges of your twin connection, watching from the outside in.
“She won’t die, Aegon,” Aemond says quietly, his tone less harsh than before. “She’s a Targaryen. And you know as well as I do that Targaryens are not easily felled.”
There’s a pause, and Aegon finally lifts his head, his bloodshot eyes meeting Aemond’s. “Then you’ll help me ensure that,” he says, more a command than a request.
Aemond gives a single, sharp nod, his eye glinting in the dim light. “Of course.”
The room falls into a tense stillness again, broken only by the faint crackle of the fire. Aemond turns to leave, but he hesitates at the door, looking back one last time. His eye lingers on you, and for a moment, something softens in his gaze. A brief flicker of something unspoken, something he would never admit aloud. Perhaps it’s worry. Perhaps it's a regret that he can't do more. But then it’s gone, his mask slipping back into place as easily as ever.
"Rest when you can," Aemond says, his voice firm again, though not without a hint of concern. "Both of you."
Aegon doesn’t respond, his focus already back on you. He watches as Aemond slips out of the room, the door closing quietly behind him, leaving the chamber once again steeped in silence.
His hand returns to yours, his thumb brushing your skin with the same relentless, aching hope. He leans down, pressing his lips against your forehead, his voice a whisper against your skin.
“Don’t leave me, Y/N.”
#house of the dragon#hotd x reader#hotd#hotd x y/n#hotd x you#aegon x reader#aegon the second#aegon x y/n#aegon ii x y/n#aegon ii x you#aegon ii x reader#aemond targaryen
168 notes
·
View notes
Text
THE FIRST TASTE !
ft. re2r!leon s. kennedy x fem!reader
tags. p in v sex, canon typical gore/violence, zombies, non-con, dub-con, leon gets held at gun point, slight age gap, leon is infected but not fully a zombie yet
note. awful attempt at breaking through writers block I hate this so bad the reader changes personality like 8 times and the smut is dry.. feedback n rbs always appreciated um again sorry ab the monotony.. um the beginning part is meant to be like a flashback but idk! also this might be gender neutral reader? I haven’t gone back and checked but I put fem just in case 😭
You’re thirty years old and a virgin. This is important for two reasons.
It’s the end of the fucking world.
The only man left in the world, that you know of, is succumbing to a zombie virus.
“Leon S. Kennedy!” He had said, stuck his hand out for you to shake - didn’t get the hint until you reached over to physically lower it for him.
“Yeah, okay, I don’t need your life story—Can you back off a little, rookie?” You had asked, and he frowned, something that looked out of place on a face like his.
For a moment, you thought that you never wanted to see him sad again.
“I told you my name,” Leon pointed out, it was nothing more than genuine confusion, but his perfect teeth irked you.
“I didn’t ask for it.”
He stuck to you, less like glue and more like grease on a kitchen backsplash. He grew on you in all the wrong ways. Like leg hair.
So you told him to back off, that you weren’t a team, and this stubborn little shit refused. You didn’t like his boyband haircut
“I don’t need a guide dog.” You shouldered Leon out of the way when his body eclipsed the entrance into the kennels. “Or a guard dog.”
You didn’t like the way his uniform fit so well. It took you years to grow into yours, to not look like you were playing dress up in your father’s closet.
Ultimately, he shot the dogs in the head, you didn’t have the heart or the stomach.
You told him their names.
Duke was a month short of his first birthday, Toffee was his mom. Alice wasn’t fit to be a police dog; she wouldn’t hurt a fly.
He said that he always wanted a dog, a bloodhound to be specific, but his mother was never fond of them and he loved her too much to go against her wishes.
You said that it was better off he never got one. “‘Cause look where you are now, rookie.”
He agreed and soldiered on.
The flickering sewer bulbs cast a halo on the crown of his head, twilight glow shifting shadows over his face. You had to take a breather, back thumping against the wall, a film of mucousy slime coating your uniform.
“Are you okay, Sarge?” Leon sloshed towards you in the water, and then his eyes went wider than humanly possible, white-knuckling his torch, the beam of light trembling as he struggled to shine it on a fixed point.
“Rookie, are you okay?” You edged towards him, caution lining your every move, a hand placed on your holster.
You heard it before you saw it.
The wet and somewhat primal sound of lifeless hunger.
You were trembling too much to grasp your gun, so you crushed its skull under your boot like a snail shell.
It left a blackened tooth in his calf, you pluck it out and it skims the water like a pebble.
You don’t care for him past his face.
You don’t.
You really, honestly, seriously couldn’t give a damn about the rookie. If you weren’t such a good fucking person you’d leave him here to rot with the rest of Raccoon City.
“Shit, Leon, we need to get you out of here.” You support him to the best of your abilities, he grasps at your shoulder - he’s as heavy as he looks.
“You remembered my name.” Leon’s smile is all shiny teeth, you count every last one, and then you start to pray under your breath. “Are you religious, Sarge?”
“No, I’m fucking scared, rookie.” You can’t help the nervous laughter that racks through you like a shudder, it splits you down the middle.
“So why are you praying?” Is he dead fucking serious right now?
“Because I’m scared—Jesus, Leon, this isn’t the time for fucking questions.” Your boots are soaked in sludge, nothing but trench foot is on the horizon as you force him up that ladder and back onto the streets.
His bite mark oozes something nasty, something old and new and borrowed and blue.
Jesus Christ, is it pulsing? That thing has a heartbeat.
You feel sick, tearing your sleeve to craft a bandage as you kneel down to wrap his wound up. The blood soaks through, he smells sick. Hot like he wasn’t before. Hot like humans aren’t meant to be, like the last spark in a furnace before it goes out.
“But if it means nothing to you then it won’t help.”
“It’s just… It doesn’t matter right now, okay? We can talk about that some other time.” There won’t be any other time. He’s going to die here and you won’t know what to do. You still say it to him like a promise.
You retrace your steps no matter how much he insists for you to go on without him.
Get out of here—Go find Ada, please. Claire, I met a girl named Claire, she might still be out there, Sarge, please go.
But he doesn’t understand that his hope is misplaced. You were never trying to find your way out of this place, you were going to find a nice hole to crawl into and die. You were looking for a good wall to splatter your brains on. You don’t care about who did this, who started this, you don’t want to find Ada.
Ignorance is bliss and you live by that.
You didn’t join the force to save people - you joined the force because it was the only place that had an opening.
Fuck, you’re a fucking virgin.
You’re going to die a virgin.
And the thing is, you were at peace with your virginity, your pussy is past its sell-by date, you were cool with that.
Then you had this stupid fucking thought that maybe you could get out of here and fuck the rookie silly—It’s the end of the world, he’d have no choice but you.
Now he’s gone and ruined it all.
Leon S. Kennedy with his watery blue eyes and fuck-me moles and doll lips and stupid fucking chin. He’s like Clark Kent, but you’re definitely not Lois Lane.
“I’m only—“
“Please, stop talking,” you cut in before Leon has the chance to say something stupid and endearing to make him all the more lovable and missable and fuckable.
He’s cycling through his grief. That’s the thing about Leon, he’s on autopilot, for a split second he’s mad and then he’s sad and then he’s back to where he was. It’s like he deliberately chooses not to think about things until he absolutely must.
The faraway gurgling groans of undead officers befallen by some cinematic illness and the buzz of the light bulbs give the main hall a liminal quality. You set him down on the seat where Marvin’s laptop is, congealed blood crusts over the keyboard.
He lays dead a few feet away, his head blown off by a gun you find is affectionately named Matilda. The rookie is a movie buff - you pegged him as a sports fan, but you misjudged him. He’s like the lead in a fucking rom-com, they always have to be a little sentimental, have some weird quirk that makes them seem down to earth.
“Sarge.”
“Leon.” You squeeze his shoulder, begging him to be quiet, to let you think, to just give you a split second. “Fuck, we need to get it off before it spreads.”
“No way,” Leon huffs out a laugh, it rattles in his chest, ricocheting off his ribs like a bullet.
“Yes, Leon, it’s literally the only fucking thing I can think of right now—“
He takes your hand in his clammy one, the pink is gone from his cheeks. “You need to go on without me.”
No, no, no.
This isn’t fair. It’s not meant to happen like this. You’re supposed to get your happy ending and ride off into the sunset for once in your miserable fucking life. You’re meant to find a safe house or an evacuee camp and fuck the shit out of him in one of those flimsy tents where everyone can see your silhouettes, where everyone can hear you and they know what’s going on, but it’ll be hush-hush by the morning.
“Don’t say that, Leon, if I find something—Maybe from, shit, I don’t know, from the STARS office, we could hack it off—“
Leon cups your cheeks, you feel his breath on your face, he smells of the sewers and something worse. You blink at his pallid face, the feverish gleam of sweat in the yellow lights, cloudy eyes—Holy shit, he still looks good enough to eat.
In a matter of minutes, he might think the same of you.
“You can make it out of here if you follow Ada, she wouldn’t let you down like that, I don’t want you to stay here and, and die here, Sarge, I really like you—You’re so cool, you’re everything I’ve ever wanted to be actually.” Leon takes a shaky breath, you look for comfort in the lines of his palms - his life line is broken.
“Rookie… You don’t seriously think she meant it, do you?” You pretend he didn’t say all those things, it’ll only make what you’re about to do to him harder.
“Of course she did, she has no reason to lie to us, to me.” Whether he’s blinded by her ass or he’s just plain stupid, you don’t know.
“You’re so… You’re too nice, Leon.” Part of you aches for him, he wouldn’t be able to handle the truth. The blackened underbelly of the RPD, your shitty chief and his knack for girls that don’t ever look legal.
Maybe this is for the best.
“I’m not—You need to find her, she can get you out of here.” He’s not taking no for an answer. He never has, he stuck to you like a shadow and now look where he is.
“She was dressed like fucking Inspector Gadget, rookie, are you kidding? I’m—“ A chill runs up your spine, you shudder visibly when you press your gun to his forehead. His skin is sagging. You could wear the bags beneath his eyes on your arms, you could stretch his skin like spandex. “I promise I’ll be quick, Leon.”
Leon takes Matilda from his holster and offers her up, you cock her and take aim.
“Oh, Leon.” You almost feel bad. Almost. “I’m sorry.” For what happened to you, for what’s about to happen to you.
“It’s not your fault,” Leon says softly, his eyes are more grey than blue. Gunmetal grey.
Your plan is stupid. Whether you shoot or not - Leon is dying. There’s no need for him to fear a bullet—Christ, the bullet is better off, he might as well beg for you to kill him.
“Take off your shirt, rookie.” You tap Matilda against his temple, her muzzle is a cold warning or a feint.
“What?” He blinks at you, wondering if that’s really what you asked of him. “Sarge, I don’t think I…”
“Take off your shirt, rookie,” you repeat in a trembling voice.
“What has that got to do with this?” He’s making that face again, tilting his head to the side like he’s a dog, blinking rapidly to clear the sleep that fogs his head.
“God, Leon, you need to stop doing that, y’know?” Your jaw is offset, back teeth pressed together in a show of agitation. He plucks at your last nerve.
“Doing what?”
“Asking questions!” The metal is growing warm in your sweaty hand. He’s exhausting. Being handsome must go hand in hand with stupidity. “You ask too many fucking questions!”
“Because I'm confused, Sarge!”
“What is so confusing about that, rookie?” You ask him, brows knit together, “I’m asking you to take off your fucking shirt, if you can’t follow that I don’t know how you’d last a day on my team!”
That seems to shut him up. Leon hesitates and then he pulls the riot vest over his head, it drops to the floor with a dull thud.
“Good… Good boy.” You sound like you’re praising a dog, nothing like those raunchy older ladies in pornos. “Now the, like, all the accessories.”
Leon’s face twists in confusion.
“The fucking hip pouches and belt rookie.” You wave the gun around like a conducting baton. “Then your shirt, your actual shirt, not the fucking vest, the shirt, okay? Understood?”
“Yeah, I get it,” he says shortly.
“Don’t get snippy with me, rookie.” You’re good at the bossy old bitch voice though. The belt drops to the ground and the pouches follow, a few bullets clatter on the marble.
“I don’t know why you’re doing this, I thought you were…” Leon shakes his head, as if the thought of you doing this to him is too much to bear. His movements are erratic, he can’t undo his buttons and one of his fingernails peels off in the process. He doesn’t notice until you point it out.
It won’t stop you.
Look at you, following in the footsteps of your good ol’ chief. He’d be proud of you, forcing a man ten years younger than you into sex. You’re lucky you’re not especially pretty, you didn’t have to suck his jacked up dick to get a place on the force.
“Stand up, rookie.”
He stands, swaying from side to side as he tries to focus on your face.
You place a hand on his chest, he’s clammy like a dead fish, sweat beading his forehead, there’s a spidery vein running along his forearm. Leon’s softer than you thought, his body gives way to your touch, dimpling beneath your fingertips when you grasp at his pec and squeeze.
“Sarge—“
“Shut up, rookie.” You’re breathing harder than he is. Holy shit, this is like real. You’re touching him for real.
“It hurts, Sarge, I’m sorry.”
“I’m being gentle,” you tell him, curious hand groping at his other pec, thumbing over his hard nipple.
“I know, but it hurts, I don’t know why.” Probably because he is turning into a monster beyond your scope of understanding. Probably because his skin is going to rot off his bones.
“Hey, don’t cry, rookie.” You ease up your hold on his pec.
“I’m not crying,” Leon says, he stares at you, unflinching.
“It’s okay to cry.”
“I’m not crying,” he hisses.
“Are you annoyed at me or something, rookie?” You shift from one foot to the other, like you just asked him on a date and you’re waiting for him to say no.
Leon looks at you like you’re crazy, the words settling in his eyes now wide with disbelief.
Bad question. You would be pretty annoyed if some ugly dude held you at gunpoint mid zombie transformation and forced you to strip.
You wouldn’t mind if it was a cute guy though. You bet he wouldn’t mind if it was Ada.
“Okay, rookie, the pants now.” You point your gun at his dick. “Ah, ah, the boxers too.”
His silence is more terrifying than anything, it’s not much of a defeated silence, it’s quiet loathing and the weight of betrayal.
“Look, I’m sorry, rookie,” you say in the voice of someone who isn’t sorry at all. But that’s just your voice, you just sound a little bitchy, honest to god, you’re sorry as hell. “You’d get it if you were me.”
“I thought you were cool,” Leon says quietly, looking down at his wet socks or his soft dick. You can’t tell.
Cool.
God, that’s such a juvenile word. Cool is what you wanted to be in middle school. Cool is what you wanted to be all throughout high school, and now a whopping twelve years later you’re getting validation from the guy you’re about to rape.
In the middle of a zombie fucking apocalypse, might you add.
“I think you’re cool too, rookie.” You try to swallow the lump in your throat, but it swells and persists. “I think you’re really fucking hot actually, rookie, I kind of...”
Your voice falls away.
I hated you for it at first, but then I really started to like you, and now you’re dying and I don’t know what else to do.
Leon’s frown is more of a pout. He’s so young. There’s no wrinkles on his forehead, but he has a smattering of freckles on his cheeks, they give a somewhat healthy appearance despite the greying of his face.
“Sit down, rookie.”
He pulls a face and then sits, crossing his arms over his chest. His dick hasn’t fallen off yet, you’re glad about that. Leon’s body still being in one piece is simply an added bonus.
You make quick work of your water-soaked trousers, and your underwear follows, doing your best to toe out of them in your heavy boots.
You might be wet, or you might be sweating, or is this sewer slime? Whatever it is, pussy juice or not, it’ll do as lube.
That dick of his is soft. Embarrassingly so. You’re naked, shouldn’t that be enough to get Leon going? Or are you seriously that undesirable?
Your weight on his lap makes him groan, you pretend not to hear it, blaming it on the virus making him weaker. You’re not that heavy. You’re not. He’s just trying to make you paranoid.
“Oh, wait, wait, wait!” You stand back up and relief floods his face. Rude. Fumbling, you take the pair of handcuffs from your belt. If you can’t use them to get laid or while getting laid, then what use are they? The former has certainly never happened, so you’re going to make the latter come true.
Leon doesn’t say a word while you secure his hands behind his back, his cheeks puff out, an expression you notice he makes when he’s in pain. The metal of the cuff erodes his melting wrists, it splinters his bones.
Now you don’t need to worry about him getting ahold of the gun, you place it on the side, lining his soft dick up with your slick pussy and feeding it into you like a straw. It’s very unsexy. The tip is velvety and the shaft is rubbery like a toy. His dick is mottled purple in the way dicks shouldn’t, you bet it was pink before. The same pink as his nipples and the tip of his nose.
You don’t feel anything.
It’s not special and there’s no sparks and all his dick does is make you feel a little less empty. So you roll your hips forward and he jolts, dick perking up and hardening inside of you. Against his will.
Leon refuses to look at you, he finds a fixture on the ceiling and stares at it while you find the right pace, lifting up off his cock, the head pops out wetly and then you sink down on it again, bottoming out with a squelch.
You brace a hand on his chest, the other between your thighs, a few fingers rubbing firm circles into your clit as you fuck him so hard you’re sure his cock is ready to fall off.
You would take it with you, keep it inside of you maybe.
“Leon…” Your lips ghost his when you whisper out his name, shuddering with the force of your orgasm, it starts in your tingling toes, warmth lapping at your ankles and then it washes over your body like a gentle wave.
His eyes are shut. He’s unmoving.
You think he might be dead, but then Leon’s dick twitches to love inside of your clenching cunt, and you feel him throb as the leaky slit dribbles a generous helping of cum.
Not the worst feeling in the world, you could get used to it, but there’s no time for that.
“I’m sorry, rookie,” you tell him again, panting as you shimmy back into your pants, “I’m sorry, I seriously am, I just need you to understand that I’m not… You didn’t do anything wrong, okay?”
Spit bubbles spill from the corners of his cracked lips, Leon uses his arm to wipe them away. “I know I didn’t do anything wrong,” he mumbles.
“Okay… Well, I’m glad you know that.” You take Matilda and you point her at Leon’s head for real this time, it’s not an empty threat. “I like you a lot, rookie, I think you’re really cute.”
He smiles, albeit sadly, and you know he’ll never be the same again. But, you’re putting him out of his misery - Leon won’t need to go through anything at all ever again.
The gun clatters onto the floor as you’re lifted off your feet and into the air. It’s a man whose physical enormity is unimaginable to you. There’s no fixed point at which you can stare to look away from a face with all the colour wrung from it. His silence is more imposing than his size. Your bones crack in his grip, he squeezes the life force out of you and then he drops you on the ground.
The thudding of his footsteps fades, and you’re left to writhe on the ground, face to face with Marvin’s outstretched fingers.
You don’t hear Leon’s gun go off, but you do hear him cry, it’s out of frustration more than anything. The gun is by his feet, but he’s bound, forced to sit there and wait until he rots.
Dark spots appear at the edges of your vision.
It’s an hour later when you regain consciousness, something gnaws at your ankle. The pain that tears through you when you make the move to roll over is searing, your muscles spasm, but you push on. Breath coming out in ragged gasps as you push yourself up on your elbows.
At your feet, a grotesque perversion of Leon eats into you. Milky white eyes and hair fraying, falling from his scalp in gory clumps.
You’re going to lay here and he is going to eat you whole.
#leon kennedy x you#leon kennedy imagine#leon kennedy x reader#leon kennedy smut#leon s kennedy x you#leon s kennedy x reader#leon s kennedy smut#resident evil x reader#resident evil smut
188 notes
·
View notes
Text
Hunted, Ch. 1
Summary:
Several years after escaping FBI custody, Cooper Adams has quietly settled in a remote Vermont town. He's a monster in remission--his violent urges lay dormant.
But when he catches sight of Alice, a traumatized 18-year-old girl, a new form of predatory darkness overtakes his demented mind. Young and achingly vulnerable, she's a lost soul as alone in the world as he is.
Alice needs the care of a proper Daddy, and as soon as she stops resisting, Cooper knows she'll accept the special kind of love he's been saving for a special little girl like her...
Ch. 1: Sugar, Spice, and Everything Nice
As far as Alice could tell, it would be yet another ordinary night in a long sequence of ordinary nights at the Sugar Maple Diner.
Though it wasn’t as if she entirely minded. There was a strong part of her that actually took comfort in the familiarity of it all, the mundane routine of her small, simple world, regardless of the fact that it was rather dull most days.
Dull meant safe—and safe was a good thing, especially for someone like her.
Alice absently rotated her sore neck and shoulders as she made her way into the cozy, 50s-nostalgic restaurant, offering a friendly wave to the owner, Mr. Andrews, one of the only people in town who still bothered to interact with her. Not only had he given her a job when everyone else had refused to hire her, but he and his wife had even opened their home to Alice on occasion for a glass of lemonade, or tea and cookies, or a holiday meal.
Alice rarely accepted these invitations from the elderly couple, always fearful she’d inadvertently exhaust the goodwill they generously harbored for her. But she appreciated their kindness, an increasing rarity for Alice, so she was always happy to volunteer whenever they needed help with little projects around their house to express her gratitude in return.
Alice idled near the jukebox just beyond the hostess stand to see if Mr. Andrews would return her greeting, but he was busy behind the bar serving beer to a group of chatty truckers, and clearly didn’t have much spare time to say hello.
Shaking off the brief, sharp pang of loneliness, the aching desire for someone—anyone—to talk to her, Alice headed straight for the break room to change into her uniform—an old fashioned pale pink dress with a white apron. She secured her hair in a high ponytail, and exactly five minutes before six p.m., she returned to the main dining room for her shift, forcing a smile on her face.
The hours elapsed in the same, slow fashion they always did. The dinner rush—if merely five parties of no more than four people across three hours could be called that—consisted of the same group of Tuesday night regulars Alice had been waiting on for nearly a year now. Alice no longer bothered with trying to introduce herself, much less engage in small talk with her tables, for the town locals had long made it very clear ever since her return that they had no interest in speaking with her. So instead, Alice remained small and silent as she scribbled orders on her notepad, taking up as little space as possible as she refilled drinks, cleaned up spills, and delivered steaming plates of comfort food from the kitchen.
And she did all of this with her head perpetually lowered, so that no one would have to suffer the unnecessary discomfort of looking at her.
By ten o’clock, the restaurant was deserted, and the only other employee remaining was Ted, the largely wordless cook who kept to himself even more strictly than Alice did. Alice generally took her own meal break around this time when it was just the two of them twiddling their thumbs until closing, silence broken only by the rockabilly and Doo-wop melodies sung by the jukebox. But before she could write down her request for a cup of soup and a half-sandwich, losing herself for a few moments to the croons of Elvis Presley—wring my faithful heart; tear it all apart; but love me—the door chime cheerfully rang, signaling the arrival of a customer.
Alice gulped at the intimidating sight of the new arrival, and he was definitely new—she surely would have noticed him around the tiny town before now if he were a local. He was almost as broad as he was tall—and he was frighteningly tall—with the build of an elite athlete, like a champion MMA fighter, his long limbs hard and big and savage. The charcoal sweater and dark jeans he wore actually seemed to struggle to keep his toned muscles contained.
He had thick, silky hair the color of dark roast coffee, and a closely-shorn mustache and short, angular beard. He was a very handsome man, perhaps in his early-to-mid forties, but when Alice finally met his eyes, she was instantly rendered breathless by a powerful, inexplicable sense of sheer terror that seemed to seize her by the throat, and choke her.
Shadowed by a prominent brow bone, his inky, hooded eyes were disturbingly dark. Chilling. They reminded Alice of the eyes of a shark. Fathomless. Cold.
Predatory.
“Hey there…can I get a table?”
Unlike his frightening eyes, the velvety timber of the man’s deep voice actually inspired an equally strong sense of comfort—relief—causing the paranoid internal alarms within her body to faintly recede.
Alice was rendered profoundly unbalanced, nearly on the verge of collapsing to the floor from the whiplash of such opposing instincts.
Perplexed by her body’s strange reactions to the stranger, Alice quickly nodded and dutifully lowered her head. She reached for a menu and silently beckoned the man to follow her, her shoulders arched nearly all the way to her ears as she timidly guided him to her favorite booth by the windows with the prettiest view of the forest.
He followed her with slow, heavy foot falls, and Alice nearly caved in on herself when she was directly confronted with just how much bigger he was up close as he slid into the booth with athletic, equanimous movements.
Even sitting down, he was huge.
Alice placed the menu on the table once he appeared settled, and reached into her apron pocket for her notepad and pen, waiting expectantly for him to provide his drink order, as all other customers automatically did upon sitting.
But when he didn’t speak after several moments, Alice shyly raised her head, and was surprised to find the man gently smiling at her.
He looked even more handsome when he smiled—
“There you are,” he said warmly, his voice triggering a sudden influx of delightful tingles throughout her weary muscles. “How are you doing tonight?”
Too stunned to speak, Alice felt hot blush rising to her cheeks in embarrassment.
How long had it been since someone had asked her how she was?
Seemingly sensing her unease, the man continued, “Sorry—you probably don’t want to talk with an old man like me,” he said ruefully, and Alice was suddenly overwhelmed with guilt. This handsome stranger was being more sociable with her than anyone had in months, and she was messing everything up. “Would it be possible to order—”
“I’m A-Alice,” she interrupted shakily—awkwardly—cheeks boiling at the mousy sound of her own voice.
To her relief, the man’s smile only widened, and there was a flicker of playfulness in his eyes, somewhat tempering the otherwise unnerving quality in his dark gaze.
“That’s a very pretty name,” he replied. “I’m Cooper.”
Cooper. Alice repeated the name in her head. It sounded strong and masculine.
She quite liked it.
“Put us together and we’re rock stars,” he added. Alice frowned in confusion. “I…I don’t follow—”
“Alice Cooper?” Alice shook her head, and Cooper released a slow sigh. “Ahh…don’t mind me—I’m betraying my age here. He’s before your time.”
“Oh. Okay.” Alice swallowed hard. “Umm…w-welcome to the S-Sugar Maple Diner,” she offered, remembering she needed to do her job. It had been so long since she’d been required to introduce herself to a customer that Alice was quickly finding she was woefully out of practice with the basics. “M-may I get you something to drink, sir?”
“Well I was taking a look at what you have on tap, but I notice you don’t have a bartender right now,” Cooper mentioned. “And I suspect you’re not quite old enough to legally go behind the bar.”
“Yeah…the bar closes at nine on weekdays. Mr. Andrews—he’s the owner—he already left for the night, and he usually handles that stuff.” Embarrassed, Alice tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m sorry, sir.”
“Call me Cooper.”
“I’m sorry, Cooper.”
“So, how old are you?”
“Eighteen—but I’ll be nineteen next month.”
She wasn’t sure why she shared that detail. It certainly wasn’t as if her upcoming birthday made her seem any less young and pathetic.
“Ahh…definitely too young to pour alcohol.” Cooper softly chuckled, his deep-chested rumble pleasantly tickling her ears. “In that case, how about a nice cold glass of Coke?”
“Would you prefer a frosted glass or ice?”
“Ice, please.”
Alice wrote down the order with a nod. “Coke with ice, coming right up.”
She began to turn on her toes to prepare his soda, but then he spoke again.
“So what do you recommend here?” Cooper asked.
“Recommend?” Alice repeated slowly. “You mean…to eat?”
As soon as the words left her mouth, Alice realized what a stupid response it truly was.
The townsfolk’s collective avoidance of her was clearly not entirely to blame for her poor conversation skills.
Of course he was asking her what to eat. She was a waitress. It was her job.
Mercifully, Cooper didn’t poke fun at her idiocy. “Yeah, what’s your favorite thing on the menu?” he asked. “If you were to join me for a meal, what would you order?”
Alice squeaked, “You want me to join you?”
Cooper’s eyes widened, and he appeared even more shocked than she was. “Well, I was speaking hypothetically, but…sure! Why not. Care to join me?”
Alice thought she might actually pass out from embarrassment.
Not only had she forgotten how to have a normal conversation, but she’d forgotten all about basic social cues. Sarcasm. Hypotheticals.
Cooper was being friendly. Nothing more. He didn’t actually want to spend time with her—he just had good manners.
“Umm…I’m really not supposed to…” Alice trailed off, nervously biting her lip.
Unperturbed, Cooper shrugged his mountainous shoulders. “Perhaps some other time then.” Leaning forward, he lowered his voice and added in a conspiratorial murmur, “I wouldn’t want you to get in trouble on my account.”
There was an undeniably patronizing quality to his warm baritone, but it wasn’t condescending in a negative way. The lilting way Cooper spoke was gentle, daresay caring, the low pitch of his manly deepness perfectly matched with a bright, uplifting enthusiasm.
Cooper spoke to her the way Alice remembered her own father used to speak to her—as if no one else in the world existed. As if she were important.
As if every word she spoke were the most brilliant thing ever to be uttered in history of the world, and he couldn’t get enough.
Cooper had a…Dad voice, the kind of voice that felt like a warm, clean blanket fresh out of the dryer.
He had a voice of absolute safety—a voice that made her feel brave.
Like she could do anything.
“I recommend the deluxe cheeseburger with fries,” Alice said, unable to contain her giddy smile. “Ted makes the best in town.”
Cooper kept a careful gaze on Alice through his peripherals as he chewed and swallowed the mediocre cheeseburger, though he made sure to provide plenty of appreciative grunts and moans throughout his labored consumption for the girl’s benefit.
He’d been patiently watching her for nearly a year now. It wouldn’t do well to worry the skittish thing when he was so close to finally making her his, for little Alice was a painfully insecure, highly sensitive girl. She was pitifully naïve and defenseless, lonely and desperate for affection.
She was perfect—and finally ripe for his taking.
When he’d originally made the decision to settle down in the middle of fucking nowhere, Vermont after several years on the run, he’d simply planned on living quietly for whatever remained of his existence. The monster within lay dormant—at least for now—the compulsion to destroy and dissect no longer eroding what little remained of his sanity. The urge had been a sickness, a magmatic fever, burning so hot in his veins it was boiling him alive. Cooper knew quite well it would have killed him eventually.
But now, his insides were…cooler, warm instead of blisteringly hot, and the dark, animalistic impulses currently thrumming through his body were far less bloodthirsty in nature compared to his prior proclivities.
Perhaps he was in remission.
He’d spent more than forty years keeping the two opposing halves of his psyche strictly separate, diligently compartmentalizing every aspect of his life down to the most minute detail, but when he’d caught sight of this tiny angel of a girl almost ten months ago—so sweet and innocent and frightened and alone—Cooper was leveled, and struck with an epiphanic clarity.
Perhaps the separatist approach to mitigating his dangerous urges no longer served him.
Perhaps the only way for him to survive was by reconciling his infernal hungers, once and for all.
When Cooper had escaped FBI custody—doubling his body count in the process—he’d been forced to accept that the closest thing to real human connection he’d ever been able access, his family, was lost to him forever. He missed being a husband. He missed being a father.
But when he saw Alice, he realized he could still be both.
She was as alone in the world as he was, an isolated little girl shunned by nearly everyone around her. At merely eighteen, she was young and exceedingly vulnerable, in dire need of a loving authority figure to guide her and keep her safe.
And yet, she was also a woman. Barely legal, but a woman nonetheless, and a mouthwatering one at that. Alice was a tiny thing, shorter even than Riley was when he last saw her, her petite body a tight little package of soft, untouched femininity he was growing more and more ravenous to taste.
Cooper had always been partial to blondes, and his little Alice was a natural platinum. A “baby” blonde.
Sweet little baby blonde with her pretty baby blue eyes—
With her milky skin and delicate features—not to mention those pouty pink lips just begging to have something hard shoved between them—Alice could look like a porcelain doll one moment, and a sex kitten the next. She was an undeniably gorgeous girl, not yet aware of her erotic allure, and under different circumstances, he knew she could have had any man on his knees begging to fuck her.
Fortunately for him, the entire town thought she was batshit crazy.
And Cooper was certainly not one to be put off by a little madness—
“How’s your dinner?” Alice asked sweetly from a few tables away. She’d been refilling ketchup bottles and rolling silverware for the last twenty minutes or so, responding beautifully—albeit awkwardly—to his subtle prompts for casual conversation.
Cooper wiped the corners of his mouth with a napkin and made an exaggerated show of patting his stomach. “You were right—this is the best burger I’ve ever had,” he lied smoothly. “Excellent recommendation, sweetheart.”
The girl’s cheeks instantly flooded with pretty pink blush—she likes being called sweetheart—and she shyly lowered her head, but couldn’t resist looking back at him mere seconds later with a demure giggle.
Good girl. She found him attractive.
His depraved plans would be much easier for her to adapt to with her sexual attraction already engaged—
“Can I get you anything else, Cooper?” Alice asked. She sounded hopeful.
His left eye twitched at her use of his first name, one of the few…ticks beyond his control, as a small spark of violent rage kindled deep in his gut, leaving a sickly metallic taste in his mouth.
The urge.
Cooper was suddenly overcome with a vision—a lucid hallucination, really—of marching directly to where the girl stood, and shoving her to the floor so quickly the air would be knocked out of her lungs. He saw himself tearing off her clothes and wrapping his big hands around narrow torso, and squeezing, hard enough to crack her ribs, before mounting her like a beast in the wild, ready to take his quivering bitch in heat. He wanted to feel her small, supple body struggling beneath him, his scared, mewling kitten desperate to free herself by any means necessary.
He wanted her to scream. He wanted her to cry.
She was so fucking tiny he’d absolutely crush her with his size. Cooper was already far bigger than most people, but compared to his little girl, his sweet little nymph, he was indestructible, as vast and powerful as a god.
He could do anything he wanted to her. He could violate her beyond recognition.
He could fuck her within an inch of her life—
Realizing he’d zoned out far longer than intended, he released a sharp exhale to snuff out the ember of fury, reminding himself that it was perfectly okay that the girl was calling him Cooper—for now.
She’d be calling him Daddy soon enough.
He forced himself to smile, carefully schooling his features to the affable façade he used specifically for putting people at ease.
Like clockwork, the girl visibly relaxed.
“Just the check please, sweetheart.”
Hunted Ch. 2: Dream A Little Dream Of Me
https://archiveofourown.org/works/58229851/chapters/148279471
#ao3 fanfic#trap 2024#trap movie#cooper adams smut#cooper adams#the butcher#cooper adams x reader#cooper adams x ofc#cooper adams x original female character#trap film#dark romance
184 notes
·
View notes
Text
𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧 𝐉𝐚𝐰𝐬 𝐈𝐈
Plot: Imagine being the legitimized bastard of Daemon Targaryen, and having a very devoted family.
Cw: incest/targcest, yandere/lovesick behavior, unhealthy relationships, platonic and romantic yanderes, not everyone is romantically involved with reader, yandere EVERYONE x reader, Aegon II is creepy
Notes: someone told me they were waiting for part 2 🥹 btw I hate the show's timeline as a book reader because it makes absolutely no sense and I can't write properly, halfway through this I literally have decided to throw it away and run with what my heart tells me, otherwise I'll combust
>When your father came back from the war of the stepstones in 115 a.c, newly wed to Laena Velaryon, you didn't think anything was going to change, right?
>You missed the Vale, you didn't like seeing your father and Rhea fighting, but she was so kind, just like your wet nurse, she wasn't here in the castle either
>But there was a lot of new people here, and you liked them all, since they're all your family, it is only natural you'd love them all, they often say they love you too
>When the news of Rhea's death and Daemon's nuptials came, almost arriving together, it sparked a sense of empathy and compassion throughout the red keep
>All of the Targaryens were already too "heedful" with your care, declaring you'd be cared for only by family, and in the extraordinary case no one was around, there was two very meticulously chosen handmaidens who were to watch over you until a family member was available
>This measure was whispered from Otto Hightower to king Viserys, this passed as a safety measure, saying that because of your origins, you were at risk, setting the infamous "princess of Flea Bottom" title as precedent to say you were not welcomed by everyone, and therefore in danger (even if everyone who was even rumoured to be against your stay in the castle, had already been "taken care of"). Of course no one objected
>This reawoke an old rivalry between Rhaenyra and Alicent, old playmates with unspoken grudges, now desperate to prove they could be a better, more adequate influence in your life
>Willfully ignoring your young age, and the fact you'll likely forget half of whatever they say by the time you're ten, what matter is that even when Daemon takes you away, you'll be able to remember one of them with particular fondness
>It was the truth, a hard and bitter truth, that you'd have to eventually leave, everyone looking for excuses to give to Daemon once he arrived, in order to keep you around longer, maybe indefinitely
>Alicent felt uneasy when thinking of stealing you away from your sire, as much as she disliked Daemon, and believed you'd be much better off being raised as hers, along with her children, you clearly loved him, you drew pictures and saved "treasures" to give to him once he returned
>You also used to ask about Rhea, no one had the heart to tell you, but still fearing the crude words your father would use to tell you of her passing, after all, Rhea was still "his bronze bitch". Finally, it was Viserys who had to break the news to you, he was considerate and comforting, even explaining how his parents and former wife passed away as well, and how he still carries them in his heart
>You lacked the proper cognitive development to fully process it, but it made you sad you were never to see Rhea again, this made you even closer to Viserys
>Alicent wondered if there was a possibility of offering one of his son's hands, if that would make you stay, she certainly wouldn't be displeased to have as a daughter in law, Rhaenyra did the same, after all, wasn't the heir to the iron throne a much better match?
>But the day finally came, where you had to leave
>Your father forsook his crown as King of the narrow sea to Viserys, who humorously put the crown on your little head, and named you princess of the narrow sea
>With the crown falling to your forehead due to its size, you hugged your father as soon as you saw him, with giggles and words of affection, as much as it endeared them, it broke everyone's heart to remember how your time in the red keep was nothing but extraordinary. Viserys thanked the seven no one could hear his thoughts, it would be improper for a king to wish for war, just to keep his baby niece around
>This moment created a long string of creative bards singing about Y/N Targaryen, princess of the narrow sea, queen of hearts
>It was finally time for you to go to leave, Laena was ecstatic to take you with her after meeting you for the first time, but she was a smart girl and noticed she was taking away something very precious
>But celebrations had passed and it was time to go
>You lived in Pentos for the next 10 years of your life, with your father, step-mother and little sisters, Rhaena and Baela
>Daemon was not so happy to take you to King's Landing for different events, however, Laena said it was good for you to be around your cousins and nephews, good for the twins as well
>And she said that since you had your own dragon, it's best to just, it'd be better for you to not feel trapped, otherwise one day you'll just get on dragonback and do as you please
>Daemon did not like the idea of you ever leaving or having enough independence to just hop on a dragon and leave, but he understood his wife was right
>When Laena lightheartedly told the prince of Pentos that he must only ask if he wished to marry one of the girls, Daemon grimaced in his classic unsubtle fashion
>You and your sisters were excitedly ogling the new dragon egg that was meant for your sibling
>One night, Rhaena came to your room looking for comfort, she feared her new little brother or sister would have a great dragon like Vhagar, or swift as Moondancer and then she'd be left alone
>You had Dagahrion, and Baela had Moondancer, both dragons were bonded with you since birth, but Rhaena's died shortly after hatching. She was given another egg, that sadly had not even hatched
>According to the dragonkeepers, Dagahrion still needed a little more time before you could safely ride, and Moondancer had a long way to go.
>Dagahrion and Moondancer were polar opposites, where Moondancer was small, slender and agile, with lightly coloured pale sage green scales and pearl horns, Dagahrion was growing larger by the day, heavy and mighty, with black scales that shone like a green tourmaline in the sun, and dark laurel colored horns. The dragons would often play together, and were called "the greyhound and the mastiff"
>Rhaena feared her bond with you would be outshined by the future races and sky stunts you and Baela would share. And when Aemond took Vhagar, it felt even worse
>After Laena's death, you had lost a mother again. You deeply mourned her, but you felt a different kind of sadness watching Rhaenys coddle the girls in the funeral, and Corlys telling Lucerys he'd be the lord of Driftmark. Rhaenys had you on her embrace as well, but the looks on you had brought a bitter truth to your attention, one that was nonexistent in Pentos, and swept under the rug in King's Landing. You were a bastard. The whimsical melodies about the princess of the narrow sea, had made you forget the princess was born illegitimate
>You were now 13, and the stares and whispers your family shielded you from, were words much easier to put together, faces much easier to see
>The lords and ladies gossiped when everyone ran to hug you before the true orphans, you felt guilty
>"Lady Laena leaves two true-born daughters on the coast" said Vaemon. You smiled through the pain
>Your father started laughing to try and shut him up, it worked
>It also pained you to reunite with your beloved playmates, and see Aegon, your azantys, who you admired, now turned into a creep. He hugged you longer than he did with anyone else, but his hands lingered in a way you couldn't enjoy
>Lucerys and Jacaerys were there with you and your sisters, just like you could see the look thrown at you, you could see them being thrown the way of the Velaryon brothers. You didn't talk much, but you enjoyed their company
>Aemond tried to latch onto you and take you to where his family was, but after some time you had to return to your sisters, he didn't like that
>Helaena was just like you remembered her, she was still ever so gentle and had so many things to tell you about her bugs
>But some of her words were now cryptic to you
>"My dear Y/N, dragon in the flesh, do not believe the dragons in thread" she kept repeating, not even looking at you
>You slept in the room that was meant for your father, he hadn't returned yet. You slept in the second bed in that room rather than with the other children, you wanted to cry, but wanted to appear strong for your sisters, so you preferred to be away for the night
>However, the ruckus woke you up, Aemond stole Vhagar, and Lucerys made him lose an eye
>Jacaerys told you about the "hilarious" time they gave Aemond a pig, you silently reprimanded them, you didn't find it funny, but to go and steal Rhaena's last connection to her mother?
>Vhagar was not a heirloom, not a thing, but Rhaena deserved a chance to try to tame her before others did
>You were upset, however tried to stay at Aemond's side, after all, he was the one who lost an eye
>At least until you heard your nephew. "He called us bastards", you looked at him with a sad, disappointed expression before completely (and literally) turning your back on him to go console your sisters
>Rhaena was the most affected, her connection to her late mother, and to her sisters, was stolen by Aemond. In the moment, she feared Aemond would steal you away too, you seemed to be fond of him, and the queen would often tell stories of how close you were with her children. Losing you to Baela was one thing, she was her twin, and you would be within reach, but Aemond?
>Aemond was true to his words when he said gaining a dragon was worth losing an eye
>But he wasn't so sure it was worth losing you
#yandere daemon targaryen#yandere hotd#hotd x reader#yandere rhaenyra targaryen#yandere targaryens#yandere aemond targaryen#aemond targaryen x reader#aegon ii targaryen x reader
755 notes
·
View notes