#modern!hotd

[targaryen-dynasty]

MINE AND MINE ONLY.

Modern!Aemond Targaryen x wife!Reader

Aemond has gotten you pregnant six months ago, and seeing him with his infant niece during dinner with his family sparks something inside of you only he can satisfy.

WARNINGS: SEXUAL CONTENT—MINORS DNI; p in v, face sitting, slight anal play, slight breeding kink, pregnant sex, slight lactation kink

WORDS: 4.9 K

NOTES: Sorry, I’m kinda in baby fever right now don’t ask me why. 😭 This also is my gift for hitting 1850 followers a few days ago, which means I’m finally where I’ve been before deleting my old blog. Thanks for everyone following me on this journey. 🫶🏻

The days between Christmas and New Years usually are meant for people to take some much-needed downtime from the stress of the past days or weeks – unless you are a Targaryen or married to one. 

It’s the fourth year in a row you’re spending one, sometimes even two, days at the large Targaryen mansion with every member of their family present. 

What started as an opportunity to celebrate the New Year early with her family four years ago, since Viserys and Alicent wanted to celebrate New Year’s Eve on a yacht somewhere in the Sea of Dorne back then, has quickly turned into a tradition that no one could escape. 

Not even the six-month pregnant you. 

As an excuse to not travel to the family’s vacation home on Dragonstone, Aemond has begged for you to allow him to tell his mother that your back pain has gotten so bad you couldn’t sit in the car for four hours. 

The fact that he didn’t fall to his knees while doing it was everything. 

But you have told him no, seeing that your back pains have eased two weeks ago, and it is one of the rare occasions he gets to spend with his whole family, not just his mother’s side. 

If he wants to or not. 

“And how are you spending New Year’s?” you ask, lounging in the burgundy Lawson chair. 

Helaena sits in the chair next to yours, fidgeting with the stem of her wine glass. Every now and then you spot her lilac eyes flickering to your protruding bump, accentuated by the tight slip dress you wear. 

“This year we’re embracing a night in,” she answers, nursing her alcohol-free wine. “Cregan doesn’t want to leave the children with his parents, since Lyanna is still breastfeeding, and Edrick doesn’t want to go without his little sister.”

You nod along to her words, smiling softly at the mention of her sons‘ protectiveness, and glance past her to Aemond, Aegon and Cregan. The men are standing close to the fireplace, glasses of whiskey between their fingers. Normally, they would be tipsy by now – some more than others – if it wasn’t for the infant cradled in Cregan’s strong arms. 

Helaena follows your line of sight, the turning of her head prompting you to look at her again. 

“What are your plans?” she asks. 

You pucker your lips slightly, looking down at the glass of water you‘ve rested on your belly before meeting her eyes. 

“Aegon has invited us to a party in White Harbor, a formal dinner with some of his friends. We wanted to go, because the place is stunning and it’s overlooking the iconic harbor fireworks, but it’s such a long drive, and Aemond doesn’t want to risk anything by us taking the plane,” you sigh, “so, we’ll probably stay at home or just go out for dinner.”

Ever since you’ve handed him the gift box containing four identical, positive pregnancy tests, Aemond has taken over a protective aura and has found it incredibly difficult to keep his hands off of you. 

It’s a miracle he was able to talk to his brother and brother-in-law for so long without checking in on you once. 

But speak of the devil. 

What you aren’t expecting when Aemond makes his way over to where you’re conversing with his sister, is the little infant in his arms. Her head rests against his shoulder, while one of his large hands supports it and neck, and the other supports her bottom. 

He’s swaying her gently as he walks over, a proud smile on his lips as he can’t tear his eyes off of his niece, coming to stand next to Helaena’s chair. The sight makes your heart swell with love. 

Cregan trails behind him, and your eyes briefly fall to the abandoned Aegon still standing at the fireplace and balancing their three glasses in his hands. 

“Honey,” the Northener’s gruff voice rings out, “your mother said that Edrick’s made a mess. Could you change him while I clean up?” Still standing offset behind your husband, Cregan pats Aemond on the shoulder once. “Our girl’s in good hands, and Aemy here can already practice for what awaits him soon.”

Helaena raises her eyebrows, before snickering at her husband’s remark. She bows her head once, smiling at you, “excuse me, Y/N.”

“We’ll talk later,” you assure her. 

She brushes her hand over your swollen belly once as she rises, Cregan’s hand on the small of her back urging her out of the living space. 

Aemond carefully sinks into the chair, and changes the position of the sleeping infant so she’s cradled in his arms. 

“What have you been up to?” he asks, finally moving his head to look at you. 

You were wearing a knitted sweater over your dress when you two arrived a few hours earlier, but with hot flashes attacking you every now and then, you have long opted to slip out of it and hang the sweater over a chair. 

And the outfit change clearly is only now noticed by him.

His lilac eyes flickered between yours and your full breasts, and you can literally see the gears turning in his head. 

“You’re not wearing a bra,” he states, full on staring at your breasts. 

Fine, maybe you have also done it to tease him a bit. 

A blush creeps onto his cheeks, running down his neck, and he slightly shifts in his seat, turning his gaze away as he clears his throat. 

Pressing your lips into a thin line to stop them from curling into a smile, you quickly shush the urge by taking a swig of your water. “Wasn’t keen on spending the evening unable to think of anything else than how sore and uncomfortable I feel,” you tease. “Are you complaining?”

Aemond raises one hand in defeat, “certainly not, just pointing it out.”

You teasingly reach and bring your index finger to his chin, tilting it up for his eyes to meet yours again. “Then you better stop staring, we're not the only ones here.” 

You glance briefly at the gathered party around you, watching Alicent chat with Rhaenyra and her husband, while Aegon seems to be deep in a conversation with Daemon, no doubt talking about the latest match between the Casterly Rock Lions and the Oldtown Saints.

“Fair enough,” he answered with a low chuckle. 

The soft coos of his niece catch your attention, and you lean forwards to gauge at the little bundle. She’s stirring lightly in her sleep, grimaces and smiles alike gracing her scrunched features. Aemond brushes her cheek with his knuckles in feather light touches, until her coos are interrupted, and wide, blue eyes stare up at him. 

Lyanna smacks her lips slowly, bringing her small hand up to her mouth. “What is she doing?” Aemond whispers, not daring to pull his eyes away from her in case she starts to cry. 

“She’s hungry,” you answer with a chuckle, grinning as you notice his helplessness. 

It’s so brief, but you spot his eyes flickering towards your full breasts, and you have to stop yourself from hitting his shoulder. One wrong word. 

“You know there are barely four months left until your life looks like this, too, right?” you ask, cocking an eyebrow at him. 

“I do, but they have not yet told us about this at the prenatal class.”

“Oh, come on, she’s not your first niece, and she’s not even crying.”

The sigh of relief Aemond releases as he spots Helaena’s silver hair in the far distance has you shaking your head, bringing your index finger up to your smiling lips. 

“How did you three get on?” Helaena asks, noticing that her daughter is awake. 

Your husband rises to his feet, and hands his niece over to her. “Easy, she’s just woken up and seems really hungry,” he notes, as if he has figured it out all by himself. “And how did you fare?”

Helaena releases a dry chuckle, brushing her free hand up and down Aemond’s biceps. “I’ll tell you another time, don’t want to scare you.“ She briefly glances over at you. “Just know that Creg has to bathe him right now, because the wet wipes were useless.”

The grimace on Aemond’s face at his sister’s words has you choking on a laugh. 

Lyanna starts to whine and wiggle in her mother’s grasp, getting her attention. “Sorry again, it’s feeding time, obviously,” she states, muttering the last word under her breath, and shoots you an apologetic gaze before scurrying off. 

You hold out a hand, and knowing what it means, Aemond takes it to help you up from the chair. 

His heart melts at the sight of you before him, and he wraps an arm around you to pull you against his side as he brushes his hand over the gentle swell of your belly in tender affection. There were shy kicks meeting his hand, making him grin.

You return the embrace, and lean yourself against his frame, your head resting on his chest. “It’s different when it’s your own child, you know,” you say, the small glimmer of a smile blessing your features. 

His head dips forwards, and he presses his lips to your temple, mumbling the words against your skin, “I can’t wait to meet him.”

—

Aemond has his arm slung around your waist as everyone has gathered in the vast living space to watch the children perform a play they have practiced. 

Alicent, ever the proud grandmother, clings to Viserys as they watch in awe what the children of Rhaenyra have been up to. An oblivious Edrick appears in the middle of it all, but before Cregan can scoop him up, the little Viserys has taken his hands to include him in their mischief. 

“Have I already told you how good you look today?” Aemond whispers, his head dipping forwards so his lips are level with your ear. He rubs your bump gently, gazing at you with half-lidded eyes. 

You shiver from his touch, your body tingling from the attention your husband gives you. “You’re not paying attention,” you scold softly, nodding towards the children in the middle. A teenage Jacaerys, as well as Daemon’s daughters from his first marriage, stand before you, your view of the play slightly concealed. 

“I can’t help myself,” he whispers huskily, “you’re just too distracting, Mommy.” A smirk tugs on his lips as the name leaves them, and the sight is only topped by him leaning in to brush his lips over your ear, before they press to the sensitive skin behind it. The very spot that always makes you putty in his hands, and with your hormones in full swing, it does a little more than just melt you. 

“Aemond,” you whisper, though he can also hear the trace of a moan in it, “easy.”

His teeth graze your earlobe, and the ring of his baritone voice sends a shiver down your spine, “we should go to bed early tonight.”

You can’t help but to chuckle at his words. It’s his subtle way to ask for something without directly asking, though you know exactly what he means. You lean into him, pressing yourself against his side. 

Biting the tip of your tongue, it was impossible for you to stop your lips from pulling into a mischievous smirk. 

“Do you think your mother will notice if we leave now?” you ask, innocently. 

You’re greeted with a wide grin when your eyes meet Aemond’s, and the arm he has wrapped around you tightens just more, keeping you against his frame. 

His lips brush your ear again, trailing down to press a kiss to the side of your neck. “If she does, she can tell me later,” he raps into your ear, “besides, we wouldn‘t be gone for too long, sweetheart. Just long enough for a little… alone time. Who could blame us for wanting to savor the last weeks where it’s only the two of us, mh?”

Aemond looks around one last time, noticing how everyone around you is mostly focused on the children’s show. 

Bringing his hand to the small of your back, he gently guides you through the crowd of his relatives, before you’re on the way to his childhood bedroom. 

It’s furnished in a minimalistic style, making it obvious that Alicent has spent some time decluttering her children’s rooms to make them more presentable for whenever guests stay over. The room basically is Aemond’s, and the rest belongs to Alicent. 

Walking in behind you, he locks the door. You look around briefly before his firm chest is flush against your back with his arms around your waist, resting on your bump. He presses his lips to the curve of your neck, prompting you to tilt your head to the side, and a shuddered breath to escape your throat. 

The feeling of his hard, clothed cock against the curve of your ass drives you to insanity, making you eager for more. He grinds against you as his fingers travel over your curves, and greedily fist the fabric of your dress. 

“Let me help you undress, Mama,” he rasps against your skin, goosebumps prickling in its wake.

When he sinks to his knees behind you, you whimper quietly, immediately missing the heat of his breath and lips on your body. 

“Aemond,” you breathe, looking down at him as he pushes your dress up. 

The dumbfounded look that crosses his features with the skirt of your dress rucked up just shy beneath your bump has you chuckling, realization settling in. 

“You went commando?” 

Biting your bottom lip, you can basically see his excitement building, the bulge in the front of his slacks quite obvious despite him kneeling. “I was feeling… adventurous today,” you hum, a glint of mischief in your eyes. 

He can’t help but to grin at your comment, and, on his way up, Aemond starts to press several kisses to the outside of your thigh, his fingers following in their trail. 

Standing to full height again, looming over you, he keeps his hand beneath your bump, his fingers caressing your pubic mound. 

You squeeze your thighs together in a desperate attempt to soothe the aching at the apex of them, since his fingers aren’t touching you where you need them most. An anticipating moan slips past your lips, a shiver shaking your core. 

“I hope you’re prepared for me to be just as adventurous,” he hums, “... and thorough.”

His fingers hook under the thin straps of your dress, tugging them off your shoulders to push the elastic fabric down your curves and onto the ground. It’s pooling around your ankles in a white puddle, leaving you completely bare to him with just a few touches. 

You shudder under his intense gaze, practically devouring you with just his lilac eyes, and try to break the tension by pulling him in for a kiss. 

You turn around mid-kiss, your protruding belly a barrier between your bodies. Before your hands can entangle into his strands, Aemond catches them and intertwines your fingers. He creates a small distance between your bodies, taking a few steps back and pulling you with him. 

His steps are deliberately slow, careful, and you’re encouraged to climb his lap as he sits down at the edge of the bed. Both his feet are firmly planted on the ground, supporting your swollen body. 

He groans as you trap him between your legs, his hands roaming your curves almost immediately. The knowledge that he was the one responsible for the changes of your body, and that everybody else knew that as well, does something to him, making him all the more hungry for you. 

It was even more addicting to see you sit astride him like a goddess, ready to claim what was yours already anyways. Him.

Feeling his clothed member throb beneath you, the urge to grind above him is as inviting as never, and you’re more than ready to give into the urge. Your wetness soaks his slacks, and the groan Aemond releases at the friction has you whimpering with him. 

Your lips meet for a fervent kiss, and while your hands rest on his shoulders, his are eager to explore the swell of your belly. His tongue finds its way past your lips, swirling around yours in a way that turns the kiss into all teeth and tongue. 

Dragging your teeth over his kiss swollen bottom lip, he tilts his head upwards and nudges the tip of his nose against yours. You lick over his lips once, but when you lean in to connect your lips again, Aemond stops you with his hand around your throat. 

“I want you to sit on my face,” he rasps, his voice husky. 

You haven’t sat on his face in weeks, or rather ever since the round ligament pain kicked in and made even the simplest daily tasks difficult for you. 

Your eyes widen. “But– I–”

“No, you’re not too heavy,” he interrupts, cocking one eyebrow at you. 

There’s not even a chance for you to reject before he lies down and hooks his hands beneath your thighs, hoisting you up and pulling you towards his face. You sit on his chest, barely seeing his chiseled features from under your bump. 

As the position you are in truly settles in your mind, a bright blush starts to cover the apples of your cheeks. His angelic looks don't help either, strands of silver hair splayed out around his head like a halo, and his piercing lilac eyes fixed on you and you only. “But you tell me when it gets too much, no?” you ask, coyly. 

Aemond rubs his hands over your bare thighs in comfort, nodding. “Always.” Deep down you know it’s a lie, because he has told you on more than one occasion that he’d gladly leave the world suffocated by your delicious pussy, but you trust the feigned security he offers. 

“No promises about how long I’ll last, though,” you tell him. 

A gentle pat to your thigh is what has you eventually inching forwards until your knees are on either side of his head. 

With your bump being quite protruding, you can’t even see him anymore, you only hear his groans and growls when you cautiously settle in the new position.

The attempt to slightly hover your pussy over his face is fruitless the moment your husband’s hands fly to your hips, grabbing you and pulling you down onto his face. Just his nose perfectly teasing your clit has you moaning out loudly already, even though he hasn’t even used his tongue yet. 

And then it follows. 

Aemond greedily laps at your entrance as his hands grip your hips tightly, holding you in place and playing you like a fiddle. It circles around your clenching hole, teasing it but never one dipping it inside. 

You clench around nothing, and bring one hand to your bump while the other just rests above his hand on your hip, squeezing it. Chasing the friction and warmth of his tongue, you rock your hips back and forth as much as his grip allows, coaxing whimpers and mewls to leave your lips.

“Gods be good,” you whimper, the grip of your thighs around his face tightening. “I–I forgot how good you are at this.”

Seemingly keening at your praise, you’re almost disappointed when he pulls his hand off of yours to cup your ass cheeks, yanking you impossibly closer. The groans that vibrate against your pussy send shivers up your spine that make you lose yourself in the pleasure, not focusing on where his hands are. 

At this point, Aemond was feasting at you like a man starved, all but devouring you with newfound vigor. His nose flicks against your clit with expert precision every time he tilts his head or you move your hips, drawing you closer to your orgasm. 

His index finger comes into play, teasing your throbbing folds for a split second. His true intentions, however, only show the moment it starts to circle around your other hole. 

“Fuck, Aemond, I-” you manage as he carefully dips his finger into your hole, the added stimulation almost immediately tightening the coil in your belly. A muffled groan of appreciation shakes your core as he feels your unused hole tighten around his finger. 

You roll your hips against Aemond’s mouth on the race to completion, any thoughts of being too heavy for him long gone, and replaced by nothing else than raw need and desire. 

It’s almost too much. Straddling the fine line between overwhelming and just the right amount. His nose rubs your clit, his lips lap hungrily at your swollen folds, and his index finger fills you pleasantly – he is redoubling his efforts. 

You keep dragging your hips back and forth in rhythm with his movements, fucking his face on the brink of your release. 

“Oh God, you-you’re so good– Aemond, I’m–I’m–” you ramble, breathy whimpers filling in between the words. 

Hearing him slurp and groan beneath your trembling frame brings a blush to your face and stokes the fire in your belly, the sounds fanning through the room like your moans and whimpers. 

When the coil finally snaps, you throw your head back in ecstasy and clamp your thighs around his head, hot, white pleasure licking its way up your spine. His name topples off your lips more than once, accompanied by desperate mewls and whines. He is relentless, licking you through your orgasm. 

You don’t wait long enough for the aftershocks to fully subside, the overstimulation of his tongue dragging through your folds becoming too much, and cup your pregnant belly as you heave your frame off of his face, shifting backwards down his body. 

“Fuck, I–I need you,” you all but beg, eagerly tugging on the collar of his black shirt. 

Aemond seems to share your enthusiasm, and is quick to sit up again, meeting your lips for a deep kiss. Only when you cup his cheeks do you feel that they’re covered in your arousal, the taste of you on his tongue clouding your mind. 

Your belly is between you again, but Aemond manages to swiftly undo the zipper in the front of his slacks nevertheless, and shoves them down just enough to free his aching cock. 

“So desperate for my cock now, mh?” Aemond pants against your lips, a smug smirk tugging on the corners. 

His hand wraps around his stiff member, fisting himself raw twice, thrice, before another pat served to your thigh encourages you to raise your hips. He aligns himself with your soaked entrance, and you feel his tip prodding gingerly at it. 

As you sink down on him, your hands tightly gripping the collar of his shirt, you release a shuddered breath. Your husband, on the other hand, escapes a relieved groan, his head tipping back for a moment. 

With your limbs still tingling from your previous orgasm, you bow your head forwards, lowering yourself on him until he is balls deep inside of you. “Mh, fuck, you didn’t even bother to take off your pants,” you taunt, “so desperate to be inside me.”

Aemond’s words die on his tongue as you start to sensually roll your hips over his, the added weight of the bump not allowing you to bounce up and down on him with the vigor you had used before your pregnancy. 

But your husband doesn’t seem to mind, his eyes journeying into the back of his head at the sensation. 

Moving his hands to grope and grasp at every inch of your body, they eventually settle on your full breasts, tweaking and pinching your nipples between his nimble fingers while you unravel astride him. It prompts you to arch your back, all but shoving your breasts into his face. 

“So fucking good,” he grunts, embracing it and wrapping his lips around your pert nipple while his arms snake around your body. 

He licks and sucks at your little bud like he has done with your pussy before, and, just judging by the smacking and humming sounds he makes, it’s possible there ooze a few droplets of milk out of it. 

Aemond places his feet firmly on the ground, and starts to buck his hips up into yours, seemingly impatient for his own release as he meets the sensual rolls of your hips and bullies the spongy spot inside of you with more determination. 

Loud, wet sounds from where your bodies meet echo off the walls, indistinct to you with all you can focus on being his lips at your heavy breasts, and his cock deep inside of you. 

You bite your bottom lip and stop the rolling of your hips, making it evident that you were close to your orgasm. The tingling at the base of your spine makes it impossible to move any further and you rely on him to take over. 

Aemond pulls back and watches you gleefully as the force of his thrusts makes your body squirm and jerk, eagerly anticipating you to topple over the edge for the second time. 

“You’re gonna cum on my cock already?” he asks, almost mockingly. 

You frantically nod, breathing a yes.

His hands come to your hips, and with his fingers digging into your flesh, he drags your hips back and forth, your clit rubbing against the hem of his shirt with each movement. You’re not able to gasp more than yeses and pleases, clenching tightly around him. 

The intensity of his thrusts increases while you have stopped moving, toes curling as the taut string inside of you snaps without a warning and white stars cloud your vision. 

“Mh, fuck, fuck, fuck,” you whine, clawing at his shoulders as you ride out your high, grinding and rolling your hips against his. Your walls clamp around him like a vice, and he chokes on a husky groan. “Oh God, I love you.“

And even though your orgasm subsides slowly, Aemond refuses to slow down, keeping his heedless pace and pursuing his own completion. 

He has his lips around your other nipple by now, sucking and nibbling on it, the vibrations of his groans coursing through your veins. “Daddy, mh, cum for me, please,” you whine, desperate for his cum. 

Your body, however, contradicts your words and moans, your thighs squeezing his in a desperate attempt to stop him from pounding into your overstimulated pussy – but to no avail. 

“God, please.”

His pace is as reckless and merciless as before, his cock all but forcing its way in and out of your quivering walls as he doesn’t listen to your desperate pleas.

Pulling back from your nipple with a lewd pop, a string of saliva connects the dark areola and his swollen lips as he gazes up at you with half-lidded eyes. “Hush now, Mommy,” he murmurs, tilting his head up to kiss you. The nickname coaxes a smug smirk on his lips. “Taking me so well, such a good girl for Daddy.” With just his praise, a warmth overtakes your body that drowns out the burning, your chest swelling. 

You sling your arms around his neck, burying your fingers in the silver strands of his hair in a way that is destined to ruin the little updo he had put it in this morning. 

“Mh, fuck, I’m gonna–” his words are cut off with a stutter of his hips, and he feels his throbbing cock spill deep inside of you. 

You ride him through his high with lazy rolls of your hips, biting through the overstimulation, and clench and unclench around him as you milk him for every drop of his seed. 

If he hadn’t gotten you pregnant already, he surely would have knocked you up after this. 

Aemond languidly fucks up into you now as the last spurts of his warm release fill you to the brim, grunting and groaning until the euphoria fades. 

He collapses on the bed, a blissed out expression on his face, and reaches to trace his fingers over the swell of your bump up to the curve of your breasts. Rolling the darkened buds between them, he smirks as he watches you squirm, his softening cock still buried inside of you. 

“You know,” he starts, folding one arm behind his head. His voice is softer than before, but has a teasing edge to it. “I wouldn’t be surprised if everyone knew by now what we’ve been up to.”

You laugh breathlessly and plant your hands on his chest, rubbing your thumbs over it. “But at least they don’t have to worry about you getting me pregnant by accident,” you tease. 

“True enough,” he chuckles softly, “Fuck, I’m–I just can’t help myself. Seeing your body swell just because of my seed fucking does something to me.”

His words make you blush, and you appreciatively run your hands over your bump. 

You lean forwards and cup his face, capturing his lips in a passionate kiss. He smirks against your mouth, and subconsciously bucks his hips into yours as he feels you clench around him. 

With a groan rumbling in his chest, he pulls back. Something dark flickers in his eyes, his intentions evident when he speaks again. 

“Once our boy’s born, I’ll make quick work of making you a mother of two.”

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[sapphire-writes]

Doomsday

Part 5 (finale) of The Campaign

modern!Aemond x Reader

summary: The polls have closed! Time to see the results of the election– and those saucy little photos that someone leaked.

word count: 4.6k

rating: explicit/18+/MDNI

warnings: language, kissing, yelling, dom!reader (we're topping tonight baby!!), crawling, begging, humiliation, degradation, praise, face sitting, oral (fem receiving), dom!Aemond (the top didn't last long), primal play if you squint, Counter® shenanigans, riding, teasing, overstim, hair pulling, mentions of infidelity

The waiting was going to kill you. 

Rhaenyra had told you to arrive at nine. Sharp. Nothing else was in the email. Nothing else needed to be.

You knew why she wanted to see you.

The pictures of you and Aemond had been plastered everywhere. The Daily Lion, The Sunspear Herald, and even Beyond The Wall Times. Everywhere.

Not right away of course, oh no. Aemond was much too clever for that to have them leak at an inconvenient time. No, he’d waited and held onto that ticking time bomb until the proper moment.

A week before the election.

That’s when the world came crashing down. 

You hadn’t seen him since the Hamptons. Months ago. He’d tried calling, texting, and sending emails. It was better to ignore him. You had nothing to say anyway.

You glance at the clock that ticks outside of Rhaenyra’s office in Dragonstone Tower. 

9:17

Rhaenyra is nothing if not punctual. She’s probably coming up with the proper way to let you go. It's not an easy feat– you’re easily one of her best. 

Were. You were one of her best. 

Your eyes squeeze shut. Don’t cry. Don’t fucking cry. You take out your phone, mindlessly scrolling to pass the time. Polls close at eight. You get off the news and go to your messages. Still nothing from Jace. You hadn’t heard from him since the drop. It was easy to assume things were over between you two.

“Ms. Targaryen will see you now,” the assistant at the front desk tells you and you slip your phone into your pocket.

Rising on shaky legs, you take a breath to steady yourself before straightening your shoulders and heading into the office. 

Rhaenyra sits behind a large desk, one hand incessantly clicking her computer mouse, the other playing with a crystal sphere. She rolls it under her palm, the sound echoing off the wood. You’ve been here a few times before; the office is open and inviting, with large windows bathing the room in golden afternoon light. 

She still doesn’t speak, and you nervously wet your lips, preparing to verbally flagellate yourself before her. 

“Rhaenyra–” you begin, but she silences you with a hand, not looking away from the computer screen in front of her.

“Do you see what they’re saying now?” she murmurs, hand under her chin, “Rhaenyra the Cruel… did you know what they called me when my father was alive?” 

You’re not sure if the question is rhetorical or not so you remain silent. Rhaenyra glances at you then and you shake your head. 

“The Realm’s Delight. Quite the fall from grace if you ask me,” she clicks her tongue and closes a tab, leaning back into her chair, “Take a seat.”

You do as you’re told, sinking into the leather armchair positioned in front of her.

“So,” she begins, bringing her hand under her chin, “Quite the predicament you’re in.”

Your chest tightens as you meet her lilac eyes. 

“Rhaenyra I am so sorry,” the words spill from your lips, “I never meant for any of this to happen. The embarrassment I’ve caused you– to Jace. I completely understand asking for my resignation or dismissal. I deserve to be dismissed I–”

“Sweet girl, I’m not dismissing you,” Rhaenyra says, her brow furrowing, a soft expression on her face. 

Your heart hammers in your chest, face flooding with warmth. 

“You’re not….” your voice trails off, sounding smaller than you’d like, “you’re not firing me?”

The corner of Rhaenyra’s lip tugs upwards in a small smile.

“That would be quite hypocritical of me, now wouldn’t it?” she says softly, leaning her elbow on her desk, “You haven’t done anything that warrants that.”

“But Jace—”

“—knew exactly what he was doing when he hired the photographers in the first place,” she finished, cutting you off. 

Your heart nearly stops beating altogether.

Jace.

“He’s smarter than he looks,” Rhaenyra tells you, absorbing your flustered expression.

“But…why—”

“You were a loose end,” she tells you, “And you were getting sloppy. There’s enough scandal my family deals with. Jace is my son. My first child. You’ve got a smart head on your shoulders, invaluable to our campaign….but you don’t love him.”

The truth of her words cuts through you like a knife. A dull ache forms between your ribs, and that horrible thought appears in your head, the one you’ve been trying to push away for months now.

I’m a bad person.

No, that’s not true. It just wasn’t Jace. It wasn’t him. It couldn’t have been him.

“I could have,” you insist, “Maybe.”

Liar.

“Don’t,” Rhaenrya says with a small shake of her head, “Don’t do that. Don’t settle for duty’s sake. Don’t dismiss your desires for that.” Her voice is rough and thick with emotion. 

She did, you think to yourself. She still does. 

“You’ll sign a non-disclosure agreement of course,” she says, rolling her eyes, “It’s being drafted as we speak. Necessary, of course, not a slight against your trustworthiness.”

“I understand.”

“I had no doubt you would. There is greatness in you, raw talent,” she continues, “With or without him.”

You can tell from the look she gives you it’s not Jace whom she refers to. Your lips part, but no words come out. Rhaenyra presses her lips together, nodding to herself.

“I’ll expect you here tomorrow, regardless of the results,” she says, going back to her computer. Her eyes flicker across the screen for a moment before looking back to you. She waves a hand, dismissing you, “That’s all.”

Jace is waiting when you leave Rhaenyra’s office. His head hangs low as you approach, brown curls longer since the last time you’d seen him. He offers a forced smile, avoiding your gaze. 

“Why?” 

You know it's unfair of you to ask. The scorned lover selling pictures of his scandalous cheating girlfriend. Revenge served cold on a silver platter. Everyone was siding with Jace, as they should. You knew you were in the wrong. Jace opens his mouth to speak, then closes it once more.

“You could have–,” you struggle to find the words, “You could have talked to me–”

“I just can’t end up like my dad,” Jace admits, “Married to someone who doesn’t….who isn’t..” his cheeks turn pink, “I care about you, Y/N, I do…..and I want you to be happy. And being with me won’t bring you that.” Jace lets out a deep sigh, “And as much as I care about you, I’m not in love with you.”

Your heart drops into your stomach and your blinking rapidly increases, “I didn’t–”

“What?” Jace asks with a small smile, “I’m not completely clueless.”

It’s your turn to blush as he reaches for your hand, gently squeezing it. 

“It’s alright to be selfish,” he says softly, his brown eyes warm and kind as they hold your gaze, “You deserve to be.”

You inhale a shaky breath and return his smile with one of your own. He gives your hand a final squeeze before letting go–letting you go. 

As he turns down the hall you call out to him.

“Jace!”

He turns on his heel, walking backward.

“Thank you.”

He shrugs, “Don’t thank me yet,” he warns and you don’t have time to ask him why before he rounds the corner, disappearing from your sight. 

“You lucky bitch.”

“Luck had nothing to do with it,” you chuckle at Sara’s reaction to your news, propping your phone on the counter.

Sara shakes her head in disbelief before the Facetime cuts, a small warning signal replacing her smiling face. 

“Where are you?” you ask, tapping the screen.

“Can you see me?” she asks.

“No.”

“Goddammit,” she groans, “I’m at Kingsroad Station. Mr. Stark paged me– he’s working late to watch the election results at the office.”

“You’re a dutiful assistant, trudging to Direwolf at this hour,” you tease, glancing at the clock. Election results should be out within the hour.

“Oh you know it,” she barks out a laugh, “I had to go downtown and pick up his dinner.”

“You wanna rain check our evening?”

“Fuck no!” she insists, and you can practically hear her pout, “I’ll Uber from Direwolf, and be there by midnight.”

“If you don’t get caught up,” you continue to tease your best friend.

“For the last time, I am not sleeping with him.”

You frown. Something was definitely up with them. 

“You know you can tell me,” you press, “I’d never judge you.”

Sara sighs, “Yeah you better not, you tart. I’ll text you when I’m on my way.”

“Love you,” you tell her, and she returns the sentiment before the Facetime ends. 

You place your phone face down on the counter, glancing at the TV in your living room. You’ve had the news on all evening, on mute of course. There’s no need for commentary. You just want to see how Rhaenyra is fairing in the polls. 

The green and black bar at the bottom of the screen looks about equal.

Wandering around your kitchen you open the fridge pulling out a half-empty bottle of wine. Pouring yourself a generous glass you take a long sip, letting the alcohol warm you.

It’s been a waiting game all evening. All year, truly. 

A knock startles you, and you put your glass on the counter and towards the door. It’s so like Sarah Snow to show up early when she says she’ll be running late. 

“I thought you got caught up–” Your words die in your throat as you open the door revealing Aemond. 

If you weren’t so surprised you would have slammed it shut in his face, but the pause gives him the leverage he needs. You’re a moment too slow and he presses his foot between the door frame as you try to shut it, his hand slamming against the wood keeping it open.

“Go away,” you tell him, continuing to push.

“Just listen to me–”

“I have nothing to say to you–” 

“I’m not asking you to talk. Just listen,” Aemond insists, his voice breaking with desperation, “Five minutes. Please.”

Reluctantly, you remove your hand from the door. With a frustrated sigh, you turn on your heel, walking down the hall. Aemond follows close behind, shutting the door behind him. 

“Three,” you call over your shoulder, grabbing your wine glass. You take a sip for courage, beginning to turn to face him, “And if you so much as–” you nearly drop your glass as you face him.

Aemond’s hand is held out before him, Jace’s necklace dangling from his slender fingers. The diamond J catches the light, sparkling. Your mouth goes dry, cheeks warming at the sight. Eyes lifting to meet his, you can’t find the words to speak.

“I’m sorry,” he starts, “Look….I never���this wasn’t…” Aemond takes a deep breath, steadying himself, “I’m not good at this.”

The J swings from the chain, a pendulum on a string.

“I knew it,” you whisper, hand reaching up to your throat, feeling where it should lay.

“It was just a game,” he insists, “Until it wasn’t.” Your eyes lift from the necklace, meeting his gaze. “That night on the beach….” He lowers his arm. The pendulum swings. “Look if you don’t feel the same–”

Your stomach turns.

“Go,” you breathe, barely audible.

Aemond tilts his head to the side and murmurs your name causing your eyes to squeeze shut.

“I want you out.”

“What can I do?” he begs, “Please.”

“Go grovel to someone who cares,” you snap, eyes opening, “Storm’s End, perhaps? Seems like you have some making up to do with Floris.” 

You step forward, snatching the necklace from him, and throwing it against the wall. It bounces off with a small noise before dropping to the floor. Aemond’s tongue pokes his cheek, his eyes flashing with anger.

“I don’t fucking want Floris!” he snaps, “I want you.”

You freeze, watching his chest rise and fall with anger. 

“You didn’t want her?” you ask and he shakes his head, “Did you fuck her?”

Aemond’s eye widens, a fraction of an inch but it's noticeable. A bitter laugh leaves your lips.

“It was before we–”

“You men are all the same,” you seethe, glaring at him, “Pretty words and no action. Of course, you fucked her.”

“Y/N, it was before us, before we ever–look I haven’t so much as touched her since we–”

“Well then here’s your chance!” you interrupt, “I’m sure she’s a wreck. Wallowing on her yacht just waiting for you to jump her bones.”

Aemond flinches as though you’d slapped him.

“Stop it.”

“You’re so talented with that tongue, useless apologies included. It’d be a shame to let it go to waste–”

“Seven hells enough!”

His yell silences you. You stand before each other, chests heaving with anger. 

“You want forgiveness?” you ask, cocking a brow at him, “Get on your knees.”

Aemond’s eyes widen at your words.

“What?”

“You heard me,” you snap, cheeks warm with rage, “On your knees.”

There’s a moment where you think he’ll leave. Where he’ll say to hells with you and storm out of the apartment, go to Floris, and leave whatever happened between you in the past. 

Instead, he drops to his knees with a soft thud. Your lips part, admittedly surprised by his sudden submission. He doesn’t put up a fight and doesn’t give a tongue-in-cheek retort. He simply raises his gaze looking up at you between silver lashes. 

You take a few steps back just as his hands begin to reach for you. You revel in his confusion, as his eyebrows knit together, and a smirk appears on your face.

“Crawl.”

His Adam’s apple bobs and you hold his gaze, violet and blue eye watching you closely. It takes a moment, but Aemond slowly lowers his torso until it is parallel with the floor; his palms splayed across the wood floor. 

Aemond releases a shuddering breath, glancing up at you between silvery lashes, long hair cascading in front of his face shielding the redness that blooms on the apples of his pale cheeks. Blood roars in your ears as he begins to move, crawling towards you. His movements are slow and purposeful and you grin triumphantly as he reaches you. 

“Satisfied?” he asks, his voice low and rough.

The corner of your lip twitches. Aemond meets your eye at your continued silence. 

“Beg.”

“What?”

“You heard me,” you tell him, surprised at the dominating tone in your voice, “You’re sorry? Beg me. Beg my forgiveness.”

Aemond pushes himself onto his knees, leaning back on his haunches. He swallows, eyes watery.

“Please,” he says softly.

You reach for him and brush the hair from his face. He closes his eyes at your touch. 

“Please, what?”

“Please forgive me,” he says through gritted teeth.

You hum, letting your fingers trace the scar that mars his face.

“I don’t know if I’m convinced.”

Aemond groans as you trace his jawline, letting your fingers press against the pout of his lips. He parts them as you push forward, pressing down on his tongue.

“Please,” he says, though he struggles to around your fingers.

You huff out a laugh, removing the digits. 

“Pathetic.”

“Please! Let me prove how sorry I am,” he insists, hands gripping the back of your thighs as you attempt to step away, “Please…please let me.”

You raise an eyebrow at his desperate plea.

“Let you what?” you ask innocently.

“Let me eat your pussy–baby, please–”

“You think you deserve to?” you cut him off, placing two fingers under his chin.

“No, no I don’t,” he says, shaking his head, fingers digging into your thighs, “But I want to make you feel good, please–”

You tilt your head to the side, taking in the man beneath you. 

“Lay down then,” you tell him, “On your back.”

Aemond eagerly obliges as you remove your sweats. Nothing remains underneath. You choose to leave your oversized t-shirt on. It’s your turn to kneel, sinking to the hardwood floor. 

“Don’t move,” you tell him, crawling over him until your pussy rests above his face, “You touch me with anything besides that tongue of yours, and I’m getting off, and you’re getting out. Got it?”

“Yes,” he says softly, warm breath fanning across your soaked center. 

“Good,” you praise him, lowering your cunt to his eager mouth. 

Aemond moans against you as he spreads your wet folds with his tongue. He greedily laps at your pussy as you grind against him, pleasure crawling up your spine and warming your belly with every stroke of his tongue. 

Your hands reach up to play with your tits, pinching and tugging your sensitive nipples as he works his magic. His tongue stiffens below you, dipping into your clenching center and you can’t stop the whine that claws its way out of your throat. Head thrown back, you lift your hips, ignoring the burn in your hamstrings as you ride his face as his tongue explores deeper inside of you.

You’ve never had him like this, completely at your mercy, lying stiff and compliant below you with his hands curled into fists at his sides. The veins on the back of his hands are bulging, as though his control might snap at any minute. 

You simply can’t help but taunt him a bit. 

“So good,” you moan with another roll of your hips, “Feels so good Aem–”

A muffled broken whimper sounds from below you and he picks up the pace, tongue eagerly fucking up into you, meeting the movements of your hips. His nose cascades against your clit so pleasantly stoking the fire building in your belly, the tightening of your release soon to follow. Your knees ache pressed against the hardwood. 

“Fuck–fuck!” your legs shake around his head as you fall apart, fingers tangling in his hair as his lips suction around your clit. Pleasure crackles through your veins like fireworks exploding in the night sky.

You wait a moment, Aemond not moving, before swinging a leg over him and crawling off his face. You scoot backward, tugging your oversized t-shirt down over your ass as your back meets the wall. You try to even your breathing, wiping some sweat from your brow as he sits up, the bottom half of his face shiny with your arousal. 

“Better?” he asks, pushing himself into a standing position, and offering you his hand.

You chuckle breathlessly, but accept all the same, letting him pull you to your feet.

“Fantastic,” you answer. Aemond nods, wiping his mouth with his middle and index finger before sucking them into his mouth.

“Had your fun?” he murmurs, watching you.

“For now,” you tell him, smirking again.

He reaches for you and you dip out of reach. A dangerous glint appears in his eyes as he reaches for you again. You avoid his reach, dipping under his arm and hurrying into the kitchen. Aemond follows, a wolf stalking its prey. You’re sure he’s allowing you this chase, he could catch you if he wanted to. 

You press your back against the island as he rounds the corner, fingers dragging across the marble countertop. You don’t move, don’t breathe as he slowly walks closer.

“You done?” he asks, his mouth hovering over yours.

“I’m never done,” you whisper, leaning forward and nipping his lower lip, “You better get used to it.”

Aemond groans, his hand cupping the back of your head and molding his lips to yours. 

Everything that follows is shrouded in a desperate lust-filled haze. His hands cup the globes of your ass, lifting you onto the island. You tear his shirt from his chiseled frame, and he does the same with yours, leaving you bare on the counter. 

“Should I?” he asks, dipping to kiss the spot between your shoulder and neck. You bite your lip, raking your nails against his scalp, “Shall I assume you’ve forgiven me?”

“Just fuck me Targaryen,” you tell him breathlessly, “Then we’ll see.”

He needs no more convincing. 

You pull at his belt, shove his pants down releasing his thick cock, reveling in the way his jaw slacks as you squeeze him in your hand.

“Fuck,” he murmurs as you guide him towards your dripping center, “Gods you’re so beautiful.”

You bite your lip, humming happily at his praise as he slowly sinks inside of you. Your eyebrows concave, tears welling in your eyes at the generous stretch. It’s been a while since you’d had him–since you felt this deliciously full. You hadn’t realized how much you’d missed him, how hungry you’d been for this feeling until now.

Aemond bottoms out, not moving for a moment, simply resting his forehead against yours. His blue and violet eyes meet yours as you steady your breath.

“You alright?” he asks, his lips brushing against yours.

“Yes,” you breathe, “Feels..” You lose your train of thought as he moves his hips, dragging his cock along the sensitive walls of your cunt. Your nails dig into his shoulders as he slowly rolls his hips against you. “So good.”

“You know how much I missed this pussy?” Aemond murmurs, capturing your lips in a heated kiss, “It’s all I fucking think about. This pretty. Little. Pussy of yours.” He punctuates his confession with several hard thrusts. 

One of your hands falls to the counter, holding yourself up, the other thrown around his neck, a fistful of his silver hair trapped in your grasp. Aemond’s hands hold your hips, hard enough to bruise as he continues his hard, even strokes. 

“Fuck,” you mewl arching your back, pressing your chest closer to him. Anything to get closer.

“You drive me fucking crazy, you know that?” he admits, a muscle in his jaw twitching, “Since the benefit. The hotel. The fucking Hamptons.” His head dips to your neck and he bites down causing you to cry out, “You like that? Driving me crazy?” You clench around him, walls fluttering.

You’ve never heard Aemond so emotional, so raw. Almost vulnerable. 

“Then you don’t speak to me,” Aemond says, placing a kiss on your collarbone, “Fucking brat.”

“Fuck you,” you snap, tugging his hair and forcing him to look at you, “You hurt me.”

Aemond stills, holding your gaze.

“You hurt me,” you repeat, feeling him throbbing inside of you as you keep him warm, “What you said, on the beach….” Your eyes water, “I believed you–”

“I meant it,” he says suddenly, “Every word. Every word, and more.”

“More?” you ask.

Aemond tilts his head to the side. 

“I’m in love with you,” he says, as though it should be obvious. As if your world hasn’t just completely tilted on its axis. “I’ve been in love with you. And I don’t plan on stopping.”

Your lips part.

“I’ve tried. Tried to ignore it, to do what is expected of me,” he admits, “It’s no use. There’s no getting over you. It’s you.”

“I love you too,” you tell him, and his lips crash against yours. 

Aemond lifts you from the counter then, still nestled inside of you before bringing you to the couch. He sits and you push yourself up, bracing your hands on his shoulders as you begin to ride him. All the while he doesn’t stop kissing you, smiling as he does so.

“That’s it,” he praises as you roll your hips against him, “Just like that baby, that’s my girl.”

You whine at his words and grind down against him, taking him as deep as you can. Aemond breaks your kiss momentarily to wet his fingers, dipping them between you to massage your sensitive clit. Your body tightens, your jaw slacking at the additional stimulation as your thighs begin to shake.

“I can’t–” you insist, legs tiring. Aemond flips you over immediately, laying your back on the couch and slinging your legs over his broad shoulders.

“Poor baby,” he teases, his tone boarding on condescending, “She just wants to get fucked, doesn’t she?” He quickly sets a brutal pace, the head of his cock rubbing against your G-spot with each thrust.  

Stars appear behind your eyes and you can’t help the sob-like moan that leaves your mouth. Aemond’s open-mouthed grin is answer enough to how fucked out you must look and sound. 

“This all you need?” he taunts, “Just need me to fuck you real good?”

“Yes!” you cry out, nearly choking on the word. 

“I got you, baby, I got you,” he murmurs, “Let me do all the work. You just lay there and look pretty.” 

“Oh gods–” you cry, “Fuck!” Your pussy spasms around him as you come, clenching around his thick cock with a vice-like grip. Aemond’s jaw slacks and he moans, finishing inside of you. The warmth of his release fills you.

He pulls out slowly, letting your legs fall gently to the couch. Aemond leans back, dropping to the floor in front of the couch, his large hands holding your thighs open. Your head feels like it’s full of cotton and you watch him as a fucked out smile appears on your face. Aemond’s fingers gently spread through your outer lips, watching as his spend drips out of you.

“So fucking pretty,” he murmurs, leaning forward and kissing your pussy. You squeal in surprise as he holds your thighs open, lewd slurping noises filling the room.

“Aemond! Seven hells–” you whimper as your head lolls on the couch. Your hand finds his hair once more, holding onto it for dear life as he slips two eager fingers inside of you.

“I can’t help it,” he murmurs, pressing a tender kiss to your clit, “You’re too pretty when you come.” He curls his fingers against your g-spot, a man on a mission, “Show me, pretty girl. Come on, come for me again.”

His mouth latches onto your clit and he hums as he suctions it between his pouty lips. Pressure builds quickly in your stomach and it's all too much, your third release barely through you knocking the wind from your lungs. 

“There it is,” he murmurs as he feels you tighten around his fingers, “There’s my pretty, pretty girl.” 

You finish with a cry, tears spilling down your cheeks at the overwhelming ecstasy. Aemond presses soft kisses against your thighs as you come down from your high. He removes his fingers carefully before helping you. He wanders around your apartment before finding the bathroom, returning a moment later with a damp washcloth.

“You have a nice tub,” he says softly, “Would you like a bath?” 

The thought is so enticing that you nearly melt into the couch.

“Later,” you murmur, “I want to see the results.”

“Later then,” he agrees, watching you closely.

You don’t want to speak, don’t want to ruin the moment between you, but you can’t help it. Anxiety pools in your belly as he kneels between your legs, dragging the washcloth against you gently.

“What now?” you ask softly, avoiding his gaze.

“Now….” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your inner thigh, “I’m not sure.” He reaches toward your face, forcing you to look at him. “But whatever is next, we’re in it together. If that’s alright with you.”

You lean into his hand, pressing your lips against his palm.

“That’s alright with me.”

After several minutes of Aemond cleaning you up, you return to the couch dressed back in your sweatpants and t-shirt. Aemond has retrieved his pants from the kitchen as you glance at the television. 

“Holy shit,” you say sitting up, eyes glued on the television, “Holy fuck.”

Aemond turns following your gaze and looking at the screen. His eyebrows raise.

“Well fuck,” he says suddenly, and you hear your phone begin to buzz from the kitchen. Aemond’s as well; the vibrations buzzing against the floor where it must have slipped out of his pant pocket. “Son of bitch did it.”

You meet his eyes before staring at the screen once more. At the blond man popping champagne at his victory party. At the green letters across the bottom of the television. 

Aegon Targaryen wins!

note: thank you for the love with this series that wasn't supposed to become a series- I appreciate you all sticking it out for this one and hope you enjoyed it! lots of love MWAH 💋 Jo

if you'd like to be notified when I post please follow and turn on notifications for @sapphire-writes-updates in lieu of a taglist!

like this story? check out more of my work HERE 🖤

as always, likes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated but never expected. appreciate you reading no matter what!

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

Playing With Fire

24/12: A Fancy Party & Praising - modern!Aemond Targaryen Word Count: 2.1k~ | Warnings: raunchy texts, pussy slapping, public sex, p in v sex, praise, dirty talk A/N: missed these two??? It's our Perfect Score duo!

12 Days of Smuff Masterlist

She hates these events. Hates the pomp and ego. Her situation has changed but the figure skating business certainly hadn't.

Since returning to Singles, Rhaenys had encouraged her to get involved in it all again, as much as she knew she loathed it. Connections were everything after all. And she supposed it was an excuse to have a glass of bubbly.

Rhaenys was in her usual flawless getup. A floor length pale blue, with the corset littered with sparkles. Except this time, instead of dragging her around by her forearm, she'd bought her doting husband, Corlys, and was dragging him around instead.

She gravitated instantly to Baela and Rhaena, dressed in matching blues. Baela wore a skin tight dress without sleeves and it was such a dark blue that in some light, it could've been black. Whereas Rhaena matched her blue to Rhaenys, bar all the sparkle, since she insisted it was 'tacky'.

She'd rolled her eyes at that.

Some things never change.

"Hello, you", she turned to find a familiar face, voice and mop of curly brown hair.

"Jace!"

He gave her a tight-lipped smile and a friendly hug somehow without really touching her, "nice to see you out on the ice again."

"Oh, you know me, can't keep away", she smirked, throwing a lock of waved hair over her shoulder.

Yet another familiar face poked from the shadows, "miss me?"

Both Jace and her smiled brightly, "Cregan, nice to see you!"

"You too," he smiled, "fucking hate these things."

She gave a dry laugh, "yeah, me too. Just an excuse to have some fancy food really."

Cregan laughed, "at least you're honest."

As the glasses of bubbly began to work their magic, her head swirling pleasantly, she watched Jace and Cregan laugh with each other, and then Baela and Rhaena alike.

There was a full ache in her chest, tapping her fingernails against the glass flute, wishing that a certain person was also here to accompany her.

She had respected Aemond's decision to not attend events such as this.

He would support her at matches, cheering from the sidelines, even watching when she practised, sometimes joining her, but he couldn't for the life of him force himself to go to an event where he might catch a glimpse of Alys Rivers.

He'd get no judgement from her for that.

Besides, if Alys Rivers ever dared to show her face in the same building as her, she'd face her wrath.

She finds herself, absentmindedly sipping the tart prosecco, her third she notes, listening to Corlys Velaryon harp on about how amazing Rhaenys was in her day. How sensually she moved, how she used to wink at him from the sidelines and-

“Okayyy…I think I've heard just about enough.” She says awkwardly. Without that he might have gone on forever.

“Apologies. I can't say enough things to describe her.”

She nods, “I'm lucky to have her as a manager, certainly. Excuse me.”

She blinked a few times as she slid away, through the brilliantly dressed people, downing the rest of her bubbly as she pushed the glass doors towards the back of the hall to get some fresh air.

She fanned herself with her hand, feeling all hot from the humid air vaped off everyone’s bodies inside. Her phone illuminates her face as she pulls it from her clutch, a smile rising to her lips to find Aemond’s name as the most recent contact to have sent her a message.

She laughed quietly, her thumbs moving quickly to reply, heart all aflutter.

There’s a long quiet. Those three lines to say he’s replying come on, then off, then on again.

Um.

What. 

Okay. What the fuck.

Her eyes were like saucers, the cold blue light bouncing off them as she stared at his response.

Gods, what the fuck was Aemond on??

She found herself looking around briefly.

Aemond hadn't known what she'd worn. How could he have?

She was stunned for a moment, her thumbs unmoving as her eyebrows furrowed at her screen in confusion.

It was a good job she was outside, the squeal she let out bounced off the walls when she felt two hands sliding around her waist.

If she were a different person, she'd have used her clutch as a weapon, it was certainly heavy enough.

But in the end she's glad she didn't as she whips around to be greeted with the familiar smirk, platinum tied-back hair and mismatched eyes of Aemond.

Her phone nearly falls from her hands in shock, "Aemond, what the fuck?!"

He chuckles breathily, "Nice to see you too, princess."

"What the hell are you doing here?" she asked, gaining her breath back slightly, her chest feeling hot but at the same time, a smile rising to her lips at his presence. Stupidly, seeing him is just what she needed.

"Thought I'd come and see my girl, only to find that yet again that cunt Northerner is trying to get into her pants."

She swallowed at the way he'd said it, all low and halfway between flirty and angry. And ashamed as she is to say it, a warmth drifts between her thighs, her insides clenching around nothing, remembering perhaps the borderline dirty words he'd typed over text.

"I was...just being nice-"

"Oh were you now?" he drones, leaning forward impossibly close, a platinum strand falling from behind his ear to frame his sharp features. His hand on the wall on one side of her head feels close, half caging her in and the anticipation of his proximity is suffocating.

His gaze drops to her outfit, akin to the one she wore when her and Aemond had to attend their first shmoozing event back when they worked in Pairs.

"You do look gorgeous," he starts, humming appreciatively, "I remember you wearing something like this back when we hated each other."

"We didn't hate each other." She rolls her eyes, not able to help the smile that quirks at her lips.

But Aemond cocks his head, narrowing his gaze, "Uh huh, sure. Well you hated me then," he grins, "in any case, princess, I'm not sure I can wait for us to ditch this place."

Her lips part, unsure what he means until he has her pressed to the wall, his tall, broad form easily framing her in to trap her, rather enjoying the lost, dumb look on her face as his fingers trickle down to the hem of her dress.

"Aemond!" She whisper shouts, looking around as her face burns at the thought of being so brazen out in public like this. If anyone came through those horrendous glass doors... the thought has her core throb with danger and her skin alight with nerves.

"What? I promised, didn't I?" He muses, his lips descending to place open-mouthed kisses on her neck, below her ear, "I said I'd fuck you stupid."

Yes, but I didn't think you meant here, is all she's able to think.

But her mouth fails to move as he rucks up her dress to her middle, surprised in himself to find there was nothing beneath.

"Trying to impress someone?"

"Can't wear underwear with this dre-ah!"

She has to cover her mouth when Aemond slaps her harshly right onto her hot core, throbbing with want for him by now she's sure. The action, so lewd and exciting, has her clenching around nothing.

"Yeah yeah, don't want your pathetic fucking excuses, princess," he utters darkly, his tongue running over the bit of skin he'd just bitten lightly, and she mewls, turning into a choked moan the second he eases two fingers into her.

She's not as wet as she would be with some preparation, but right now that's half the thrill. She's still excited enough from his words over text alone that there's no pain but only the stretch of his fingers as he crooks forwards, brushing that spot inside her that has her toes curling in her heels.

She grabs his wrist, "fuck-Aemond-"

"There it is. Such a dirty fucking girl for me, aren't you."

She nods feebly, not even really listening, too focussed on tightening her grip on him as he pistons two fingers into her, the tightness in her belly beginning to crest as Aemond brushes her sweet spot with every push inside.

"Fuck-I can feel you tightening around me you little slut."

He punctuates it with yet another wetter slap as he pulls his digits from her, making her let out a muffled squeal.

She barely has time to crack her eyes open before Aemond is pressed up against her, his hands grasping her thighs to pull her up the wall against him. He only really needs one hand to do it, his chest anchoring hers to him as his other fumbles with his belt.

"Tell you what, if you can be quiet for me, I'll let you cum." He breathes against her lips, his jaw all tense like this is all he's been able to think about since he saw her.

"Aemond, wai-"

He doesn't.

Both of them have to stifle a sort of relieved moan as he slides into her, the stretch of him never failing to steal the air from her lungs. Her arms tighten around his back, all ideas of being caught or the fact that there are several dozen people inside the building next to them right at this moment, is completely distant.

The first genuine thrust he gives makes her want to cry out, but she thinks better of it and presses her lips together, each movement of himself inside her making that task ten times harder. But the prospect of not being allowed fulfilment is the thing that keeps her from it.

"That's my girl - that's my good fucking girl - doing so well-"

She's ashamed to say how the praise shoots straight to her core, tightening around him so impossibly much that she swears Aemond fucking whines when he tries to push inside her again.

"Aw, did you like that, baby? - do you like being my good girl?"

She's not sure if she nods or if it's the force of Aemond's brutal thrusts that is making her head move, but he takes it as confirmation nonetheless.

"Fuck - I could stay buried in your pretty little pussy all fucking day -" he muses, his voice all strained the longer he continues his rapid pace, his skin that pokes out from beneath his shirt meets hers with a soft slap, her face heating up when she feels that her slick is beginning to come away on him each time.

And she knows she's done for as soon as his hand drifts down between her legs, his thumb playing with her pearl with the aid of her arousal.

And he expects me not to make a sound or cum? she thinks to herself.

She keeps herself together through sheer stubbornness if anything, the two overwhelming pleasures at once threatening to have her topple over the edge at any moment.

"My perfect girl - come on, I can't wait any longer, want you to fucking soak my cock, come on-"

He almost sounds impatient, and if the needy tone of his voice doesn't propel her into rapture, the way he presses his thumb against her clit certainly does. And she falls over the edge with a muffled whine into his neck, near sobbing with pleasure as Aemond doesn't let up, fucking into her with abandon to chase his own when he feels the way she clamps around his length.

She lets out another moan to chase the last as she feels Aemond's shuddered breath and the warmth fills her as he hits his own high. Staying like that for a brief, warm moment, before he sets her down on wobbly feet.

He grins at the exhausted look on her face as he pulls her dress down, not missing the way he's already started to leak out of her. But he can't talk, he's all flushed in the face as well, tugging his trousers back over his hips.

She adjusts her hair, all frizzy from the moisture in the cold winter air.

"Come on then." He grins wolfishly.

He walks the opposite direction she expects. And her brows furrow in confusion as Aemond heads to the glass doors, to go inside the venue.

"Where are you going?"

"Can't go without at least saying hello to everyone, now can I? Maybe I'll speak to Cregan Stark."

Her mouth hangs open in shock, "Aemond-"

Your cum is running down my thighs. She wants to say.

And he seems to understand, based on the way he smirks at the warmth that graces her cheeks in embarrassment, "Come on, princess, don't be rude now."

She bites her lip in annoyance, hooking her arm into his.

If she didn't love him, she'd kill him.

General Taglist: @aemondsfavouritebastard @bellstwd @blairfox04 @buckybarnesb-tch @castellomargot @hb8301 @jamespotterismydaddy @mochi-rose @natty2017 @nenelysian @randomdragonfires @risefallrise @thelittleswanao3 @theoneeyedprince @thetrueblackheart @tsujifreya @urmomsgirlfriend1 @valeskafics @virtualsweetsqueen @watercolorskyy @fan-goddess

[phthalomushroom]

The Family

next

pairings: modern!mafia!aemondxreader

summary: You had left Kings Landing and the Targaryen family four years ago. Now back and living with your old roommate you realize that the life you had thought you escaped had seemingly been waiting for you. But will the family really let you go? Will the people you left behind forgive you? Can you forget the past and look to the future?

warnings: language, mentions of trauma, slight panic attack

word count: 1.34k

note: first writing I’m releasing to the world - it is what it is at this point. also working on the title so it probably will not stay that.

The train’s horn pulled you out of the stupor of your book. Your attention drew to the bustling city of King’s Landing that passed by your window. The train was pulling up to the platform and you had half a mind to stay seated until the train left for the next destination. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea, maybe you could have rejected the job your remote internship had offered and found something to do in Winterfell. 

But then you caught sight of the white dreads from the crowd, holding a “welcome home” sign and felt the nerves dissipate. You grinned, standing and grabbing your bag. After pushing through the crowd, you were finally face to face with your childhood friend.

Beala welcomed you with open arms. “Four years is too long.”

You shook your head, squeezing Beala once more before pulling away. “You act like you didn’t come to visit.” 

“Having to take a ten hour train ride to Winterfell is vastly different than a one minute walk to your room. I’m glad to have my roommate back.” 

“I’m happy to see you too.” 

You grinned linking arms with her as you both ventured to the streets of King’s Landing. You walked down the sidewalk, briefly filling Baela in on all that recently happened in Winterfell. Up the street, however, you noted the black sedan pulling around the corner, your steps faltered. On instinct you ducked into the nearest store, pulling Baela with you. Luckily, the store you found shelter in was a quaint little bakery, one that seemed new to the block.

Baela knew what you were doing as you both tried to get as deep as you could into the store, keeping an eye on the sedan that drove past the windows. 

You hadn’t done this in years, you realized. Hadn’t needed to hide in a store, hadn’t needed to look over your shoulder wondering if someone was coming to get you, wondering if someone was following you. It was too easy to slip back into old habits. 

“Can I help you with something?”

You were pulled from your thoughts, looking at the kind cashier.

You cleared your dry throat. “No, just looking.”

Baela took your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “You're okay, we’re okay.”

You nodded. You knew that. You weren’t involved with the Targaryens anymore which meant you were normal, which meant no more targets on your back. But that didn’t stop your heart from racing. That didn’t stop the nervous sweat that broke out along your skin. It certainly didn’t stop you from laying a hand over the scar on your abdomen. 

“We can go now.”

You nodded, willing your legs to follow Baela outside and along the sidewalk. If only to keep your mind from racing did you begin noting the stores you passed.

You once knew these streets like the back of your hand, now as you looked around it was so different. The shops that now littered the streets were bustling, which was usual during the evening rush but so many of the shops you had grown up with seemed to be replaced with imposters.

“What happened to Clarico's?” Your voice was dry but it gained its strength. You noticed the shop that was once a popular corner store you had frequented as a teen, was now left vacant and boarded up. 

“Uhm, there was a… situation.”

“Oh?” Baela avoided your eyes. You let out a long breath, calming your still racing heart. “So not much has changed.”

You pushed the thoughts that began to bubble in your mind, you needed to be here - with Baela. Not with him, not in the past. 

She pulled you tighter to her, like the past was gonna pull you away. “We have a lot to catch up on.”

********

Baela and your apartment was the same as you had left it all those years ago. The same one eared cat that perched on the concrete steps outside the building. The same broken elevator that had been a death trap since you moved in. The same creaky stairs. 

Baela hadn’t changed much of the apartment since you left either. When you walked through the door that familiar vanilla scent hit you.

There was an ongoing joke between you and Baela after her boyfriend, Jace, wondered aloud one day how it always smelled like vanilla but he never saw the candle burn. Baela and you had looked at eachother and instantly knew what had to be done. Ever since, the two of you used a plug in diffuser and kept the same vanilla candle sitting in the center of the kitchen island. It was a stupid bit that Baela seemed to have continued, even without you.

It was a strange comfort to know that even though you left and even though the city changed, you changed, Baela hadn’t. 

You went over to the living room table where a photo of Baela, Jace, her sister Rhaena, and Rhaena’s boyfriend Luce were all smiling happily at the beach. 

“You better rest up, we have dinner reservations tonight.”

Your head shot up from the photo. “Oh, no. I can’t go out tonight.”

Baela grinned, crossing her arms across her chest. “Why not?”

“Tired?” It was a pathetic lie on your part. 

From the look on her face she wasn’t buying it. “He isn’t in the city.”

You set the photo back on the table, rubbing your finger over a groove in the wood. “Who?”

She smirked. “The person you’ve been trying to forget the last four years. Aemond.”

The name sent a shiver through you. In all honesty you had forgotten him- or at least convinced yourself you did. And you had forgotten about him on your walk with Baela, doing your best to concentrate on the now. It took you four years to try to forget the pain of Aemond Targaryen. But the last thing you wanted was to see him.

Four years didn’t seem long enough now. 

You walked over to the kitchen table, taking a seat on one of the chairs. “And who told you he’s not in the city?”

Baela joined you at the table. “Jace.”

Your brows rose. “If he knows Aemond’s business then he’s…”

“Yeah. He’s been with the family officially since you left. He’s really happy, we’re really happy.”

You nodded. “You’re okay… with all of it?” 

Everything that came with being part of the Targaryen family. 

But it was more than a family. It was a business, a business that was generations old and had its control over every aspect of this city. Some parts of the family business even had influence beyond King’s Landing. 

It’s why you went to Winterfell. It was the farthest place you could think of where a certain Targaryen couldn’t reach you. 

Baela ran her finger over a groove on the table. “I love him. He made his choice and I… I’ll stand with him.”

You saw the hesitation in her eyes, the worry. You wondered if your face reflected hers when your mother asked you a similar question all those years ago. 

Is your love strong enough for what he’ll become?

But back then you thought nothing of your mothers questions. 

That question now echoed through your mind. Kept you up late throughout the years.

At least now you know the answer to it.

“I’m happy that you’re happy.” You reached out a hand to Baela, giving her a reassuring squeeze. “I’m here now, less than a minute down the hall if you need me.”

“Thank you.” She stood shaking off the moment. She reached in her pocket pulling out a credit card. “Anyway, get ready Jace insisted he pay for dinner. As a welcome home.”

“Well, if he’s paying.” You smirked, standing up.

“Good, cause we’re going to Frederico’s. I know how much you’ve been craving their garlic bread.”

With that she turned, skipping down the hall to her room to begin getting ready.

You let out a long breath, maybe you should have stayed on the train.

[happilyhertale]

Take it – Modern Daemon Targaryen x fem!reader

Summary: Another night at your sugar daddy Daemon's house. He never fails to spoil and satisfy you and he knows exactly what you can take.

Pairing: Modern Daemon Targaryen x fem!reader

Warnings: Smut; 18+; NSFW; Use of sextoy, sex – p in v; Daddy-kink

Author’s note: English is my second language, please forgive me if I made any mistakes (:

Word count: 1 k

Other stories of mine

12 days of smuff

You lie on his sofa, dressed only in stockings. Your legs are bent and your teeth don't want to expose your lower lip again while Daemon stands in front of you and spreads your bent legs wider. Almost incidentally, he brings his whiskey glass to his lips and takes a sip as he watches your most intimate part, how it drips with anticipation.

Slowly he leans forward, holds the glass to your lips and you obey, taking a sip and feeling the drink burning in your throat long after you've swallowed it down. Before the burning subsides, he places the glass against your cleavage. The coolness of the glass bores into your soft skin and you feel the sensation interrupted by the whiskey running between your breasts. The burn that flares in your wet folds as the whiskey flows down matches the burn in your throat. You whimper slightly, look up at him and you see him grinning slightly.

He puts the glass down on the table and reaches for something else almost at the same time – you don't have to look to know what he's reaching for. With his other hand, he grabs your chin and pushes your face up slightly as he slides his lip onto yours. You return his kiss almost greedily, tasting the remnants of the drink still on his lips and moaning lightly into his mouth.

"Mmhm... pretty impatient today, aren't we?" he murmurs against your lips. But before you can answer, you hear a soft click and suddenly feel something cold against your sensitive bundle. The vibration that follows and floods your intimate parts makes you moan. Daemon chuckles softly as your head falls back and another whimper, ending in a moan, leaves your lips.

With a casual movement of his finger, he raises the vibration level as he starts to press harder against your clit, which is followed by another moan from you. Your eyes open and fall on Daemon. But your eyes don't meet – his gaze is fixed on your pussy. He watches closely as he starts to slide the vibrator between your folds. Your whimpers are answered with a growl as he starts to tease your entrance.

Slowly, he increases the pressure and slides the tip of the toy inside you. Again you moan and gasp, your eyes rolling into the back of your head. Your fingers dig into the sofa as Daemon starts to push the vibrator deeper into your wet pussy. Only the gentle whirring and your heavy breathing can be heard in the room as you feel the vibrations deep inside you, the slight pain making your pussy spasm.

"Daemon... gods... Daemon... too deep," you whimper, but he only chuckles slightly.

"I know what you can take... I just know it, little one," he murmurs and thrusts deeper, teasing your sensitive walls with the silicone. You cry out slightly and feel your entire abdomen vibrate as Daemon increases the vibration level again. The vibration reaches your clit as he changes the angle of the toy. It makes you moan and whimper at the same time.

Daemon leans down and kisses you, pushing his tongue almost brutally into your mouth as one hand spreads your legs wider and he pushes the vibrator deeper inside you. His movements become faster and with each thrust you feel his rough palm pressing against your folds and rubbing over your clit. Your whimpers fill the air and his teeth dig into your lower lip.

"Come for me..." he grunts as he notices your thighs start to tremble – but you can't answer. His hand slides from your thigh to your clit and a loud moan escapes you as you feel the pressure on your sensitive pearl while the vibrator disappears completely inside you again and again. He grunts as he watches everything closely and listens to the smacking sound your pussy makes as it is attacked by the toy.

But you can't hold it back any longer as you feel the tension building in your lower abdomen. You whimper and keep your eyes tightly closed. Your moans get louder and your fingers dig desperately into his forearm as you drop your head back onto the sofa. Daemon's chuckle fills the air as he notices you greedily trying to thrust your hips towards the toy.

"Fuck... Yes..." Daemon grunts and pushes it deeper into you. Loud moans literally shake the walls as your climax floods through you. You cry out and Daemon feels your pussy tighten around the toy, making it harder for him to penetrate you. But he thrusts it one last time, all the way into your tightness, watching your face closely as it contorts with desire and pain and a cry from you follows. He grunts again as your moans subside as the waves of heat slowly die.

Heavy breathing and your slight whimpering now fills the room. It seems as if your lips can't close properly as his hand slows down and lets you calm down. Your breathing is still heavy, but you look into his beautiful violet eyes and notice the slight smile on his lips as he slowly pulls the toy out of you.

You barely notice as he puts the toy aside to open his trousers and let out his obvious arousal. As it dawns on you what's about to happen, you bite your lip and look up at him. He now has his cock in his hand, his fingers grip it, moving up and down. The pumping of his hand is accompanied by his grunts as he watches you spread your legs again, almost of your own accord.

"Yeah... I know what you can take," he mumbles and kneels down on the sofa between your spread legs. Slowly, he leans forward and lets the tip of his cock slide through the juice of your last climax before he cups your lips with his again and starts to thrust into you. You whimper and moan into his mouth as your warm walls, now filled with his cock instead of silicone, begin to clench. His balls slap against your ass with every thrust as he continues to fuck you towards your next climax.

@hoshi-miharu-blog @arryn-nyx @aemonds-eyeball @praline357 @melsunshine @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed @lauftivy @valeskafics @dreamlandcreations @hopelesswritergall @wetbitchlibrarychlibrary @bl4ckph0enix @autumnhymns @fan-goddess @msmorningstaarr @aemondsbabe

[madame-fear]

Modern!Aegon: I wasn’t that drunk. Y/N: You colored my face with a highlighter because you said I was important. Modern!Aegon: BECAUSE YOU ARE!

[fandomsoverlife]

Aegon: y/n your phone is ringing

Aegon: who’s daddy is it Aemond

Y/n: give me my phone

Aegon: who’s daddy? daddy left a voicemail

*Helaena enters room*

Helaena: Aegon give y/n their phone, I was just calling and had to leave a voicemail

[fairysluna]

INVISIBLE STRING | Chapter 5: it's nice to have a friend.

New Girl!AU — A disastrous break up led you to them; three guys living in a huge apartment and in need of a new roommate who helped with the way too expensive rent.

MASTERLIST | SERIES MASTERLIST

PAIRING — Aegon II Targaryen x Fem!Reader.

SUMMARY — Your best friend finally visits your new home, but in a terrible moment. As she takes all the attention, you find yourself locked in your room with an unexpected company. New feelings and confusions might appear.

TAGS — alcohol consumption, baela makes her first appearance, mentions of virginity loss, awkwardness between aegon and reader bc they're dumb af, use of y/n. If something is missing, let me know!!

AUTHOR'S NOTE — PLEASE READ THIS!! Just to clarify, Baela and Rhaena are Velaryon, just Laena's daughters not Daemon's, Jace and Luke are Strong, and Aegon, Aemond, Daeron, Helaena and Rhaenyra are Targaryens; this means only the Targs and Strongs are related. Thank you for reading!!🤍

WORD COUNT — 4.6k

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ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤenglish is not my first language.

Lucerys’ big, blue eyes were staring at you as you read through his latest English test trying to see and correct the things in which he had failed. Jacaerys had asked you to help him with his studies after their mother threatened to ground him if he came home with another bad grade. In return for your work, he would do the dishes for you for an entire month; and you couldn't say no to that.

“Alright, a C+ is not terrible, but it can be better if you really put effort into studying,” you advised him. “You're a smart kid, you can definitely get an A+.”

“It’s so hard for me, there's too many concepts. I don't even know what a funnel introduction is,” he murmured, bumped out.

“It's fine, Luke, I'll help you study for your next test and you'll get at least a B+, I promise,” you said, smiling softly at him.

For a moment he just stared at you, being completely silent as he placed his chin on his hand while leaning on the table. You lifted your eyebrow and your smile slowly started to disappear.

Oh, gods, not again.

“You have a beautiful smile, you know?” he suddenly said, taking you by surprise and making you remember his little crush towards you.

“You need to stop trying to flirt with me, Luke,” you warned him. “I'm too old for you.”

“It was just a compliment,” he shrugged.

“Luke…” you said his name with a scolding tone.

“It is!” he assured you.

“Well, then thank you. That's very sweet of you.”

The main door opened just when you finished talking, Aegon was soon walking inside the loft with his hands holding at least five bags, each filled with the groceries for the month. You excused yourself before standing up and going to help him.

Things, surprisingly, were not awkward at all anymore. You were grateful for that, knowing that all your business with Aegon was now forgotten since what happened a few days ago. You both agreed, however, that you would not say anything to the rest of the guys, just so they wouldn't get the wrong impression. You were pleased, though, because now your relationship with Aegon was better, and you knew he trusted you a tiny bit more now. You were happy about it, too.

“Want some help with that?” you asked as you tried to grab some of the bags.

Aegon immediately shook his head, telling you it was okay as he moved the bags away from your hands, even when he seemed to be struggling a bit.

“Don’t worry about it,” he breathlessly said. “There's a sad, hot girl looking for you out there, you should probably go and see what's that about.” He walked past you and left you standing right in the middle of the hall.

You watched him enter the kitchen and leave the bags on the floor before he went to the fridge and drank orange juice straight out of the bottle. You sighed before you curiously peaked to the entrance only to find your best friend standing there with her backpack hanging from her shoulder. Her eyes were red — it seemed as if she was crying the whole way there, her lower lip was quivering as she held back her sobs.

“Baela?” you asked as you walked towards her, wrapping your arms around her as she laid her head on your shoulder, weeping against your shirt. “Hey, babe, what's wrong? What happened?”

“Garett and I fought today,” she sobbed, “It was bad, I took my thing and I left.”

Your hands went to her hair, your fingertips soothingly caressing her head as you comforted her. “It’s okay,” you cooed, grabbing her face and wiping her tears away with your thumbs. “Let's go talk in my room, alright? Come on.”

Baela obediently nodded as you guided her through the loft with your hand on her lower back. Aegon gave you a confused look and you just shrugged as a response. He followed you with his eyes until you disappeared around the corner and were out of his sight.

“How did you know the address?” you questioned, curiously.

“You sent it to me when you came for the first time just in case they would kidnap you or murder you,” she explained as she sniffed.

“Oh, right…” you muttered.

“It's a really nice apartment, you were lucky to find it.”

“I know, and it's quite cheap too.”

“I can't believe there's three men living here-”

All of the sudden, Jace walked out of his room; his sleepy face and swollen eyes would be proof enough to know that he had just woken up. However, what actually caught your attention was the way his body froze when he laid eyes on Baela, and also the way that she stiffened up when she saw him standing in front of her. His eyes widened as his lips slightly parted in what seemed to be a silent gasp.

“Baela…” he murmured. Suddenly you felt invisible.

“Hi,” she said in a sigh. You frowned, confused.

Standing there between them, you found yourself being taken aback by their reaction, about the way they looked at each other as if their breaths were caught up in their throats. You glanced at Baela, then at Jace, trying to find some explanation to this awkward situation, but you found nothing more than sparkling eyes in them.

“What- Did I miss something?” you asked, interrupting the moment and feeling Baela's stare falling on you.

“No,” Jace quickly replied. You could almost see him blushing. “Nothing happened.”

“Weren't we going to your room?” Baela turned to tell you, and you nodded. “Alright, let's go then.”

You resumed your path towards your room, and as soon as you crossed the door, Baela closed it behind her back. Suddenly, all traces of sadness were now replaced by something new; nervousness, perhaps. You sat on your bed staring at your friend who was now looking at you with widened eyes. You were beyond confused, filled with questions and doubts that needed to be answered before your mind would explode.

“Listen,” she started.

“I think there is a big elephant in the room right now.”

“There's a lot to unpack.”

“I can tell,” you replied. “You know Jace, don't you?”

“I do,” she nodded. “I actually know him very well. Very well.”

You stopped for a second. “How well?”

“Remember my time in Dragonstone as a camp counselor?”

Oh Gods.

“Yes…” you muttered, unsure of whether you wanted to hear the rest of the answer or not.

“Remember what happened during that summer?” she questioned, surprisingly shy.

“I do.”

“Well, it was Jacaerys,” she confessed.

Your eyes widened as you heard her saying it and confirmed it as if it wasn't breaking news, then your mouth dropped. A gasp escaped from your lips as you stood up from the bed and walked towards her.

“Shut up!” you said out of surprise. “It was Jace? That Jace?”

There was a moment of silence before Baela nodded and said, “uh… yes.”

“What?!” you yelled.

“Babe, keep it quiet, please,” she whispered.

“I thought Jace was a virgin,” you confessed, talking in loud whispers, still in shock.

“I can assure you that he's not.”

You covered your mouth as you saw her getting flustered by the situation. The whole thing with her boyfriend, and whatever had happened between them two, had been quickly forgotten by you two, because now you were trying to make sense of how small the world really was.

“I can't believe this!” you exclaimed.

“Well, imagine my situation,” Baela said, scandalized. “I just found out that, out of the billions of people in the world, my best friend is living with the guy that took my virginity during summer camp!”

“It's kinda romantic, though,” you confessed. Baela noticed the dreamy look on your eyes as you spoke; she was already used to it. “Maybe it's destiny.”

“You're insane,” she chuckled.

“Just imagine, Baela! What are the odds?”

“I'm dating Garett!”

“You were crying because of him a few minutes ago!” you reminded her. “What did that douche do anyway?”

Baela took a deep breath, rolling her eyes as she remembered everything. You knew a part of her was slightly embarrassed to tell you, only because she knew you would say ‘I told you so’. She was too stubborn to admit she had been wrong about him all this time.

“He got jealous because he went through my phone and found a picture I took with a friend from work,” she explained.

“He went through your phone?” you repeated, widening your eyes. “Gods, Baela, what are you waiting to break up with him?”

“I don't know!” she replied in despair. “Maybe I love him too much.”

“Whatever you two have going on, I can assure you that it's not love. You deserve better than him, and you know it.”

“I will break up with him… some day,” she promised, doubting. “But now, I need a place to stay tonight because I can't go back to my apartment if he's there. Can you help me with that?”

“Of course,” you immediately replied, “you can stay as long as you want.”

“Thank you,” she sighed.

“Though he should be the one looking for shelter,” you couldn't help but to speak up. “It's your apartment.”

“I know, but I'm doing what I can, alright? I feel like there's a lot of shit going on right now. Can't we just drink our weight in booze?”

“I- I don't know, babe,” you slowly said, “I have a bunch of papers to grade and next class we'll revise them and-”

“Hey, it's okay,” she shrugged, “Maybe one of those guys will make me some company.”

A soft knock was heard and soon Aegon opened the door of your room. He was looking tired and uninterested as usual. Baela crossed her arms in front of her chest, looking at him up and down. Aegon didn't even notice such a gesture, because all his attention was on you.

“I brought pizza from the supermarket,” he informed you. “They’re getting out of the oven, so come and have dinner. You can also come, if you want,” he spoke to Baela, finally glancing at her.

“We'll be there in a minute,” you replied.

Aegon left as quickly as he arrived, and your attention returned to your friend, who was arching one of her eyebrows.

“What?” you asked.

“Nothing…” she shrugged, but her tone made you a bit suspicious. “Shall we go now? Crying makes me hungry.”

“Alright, let's go… I'll introduce you to Aemond.”

She grabbed your hand and you guided her through the hall until you were back in the dining room. Lucerys looked up from his plate and his mouth fell as he saw Baela walking confidently towards the table. One single glance at him and you sighed relieved to know that his crush towards you was now replaced by his crush towards Baela.

Aemond —who was wearing a kitchen apron and had his long silver hair in a bun— also appeared with two pizzas in his hands, being followed by Jacaerys who carried one. As they put them on the table, you cleared your throat trying to make them acknowledge your presence in the room.

They both stood still as they saw her.

“Aemond, Luke,” you started, “this is my best friend Baela. She'll be staying with us tonight if that is not an issue.”

“Of course not.” Aemond stepped in, removing the oven mitts from his right hand and stretching it to reach hers. “I'm Aemond Targaryen,” he introduced himself with a soft smile as he brought her hand towards his lips and left a kiss there.

Jacaerys rolled his eyes.

“How chivalrous,” Baela commented, pleased with that small interaction.

“Shall we take a seat now?” you proposed, going to your usual spot.

“Where do I sit?” Baela asked.

“Wherever your ass fits, but not in my chair,” Aegon suddenly said, appearing out of nowhere and taking his seat in the spot right next to you.

You gave him a bad look as he sat down.

“You can sit beside Aemond.” You pointed at the empty chair right next to him. Baela did what you said and smiled at him politely.

A quick glance at Jacaerys and you noticed how his jaw slightly clenched and how his eyes would, occasionally, look at them. You narrowed your eyes, noticing there was something going on there probably related to what you had just found out.

“Well, can we start eating now?” Aegon asked. “I'm fucking starving.”

Without waiting for an answer, he took a slice of the pizza and opened his mouth to eat almost half of it in a single bite. Aemond looked at him as if he was scolding him for his terrible manners, but you could only giggle at that.

“Do you guys happen to have beer?” she curiously wondered, staring at Aemond. “I'm in need of some.”

“There's a couple in the fridge, and-”

“No, no. Those are mine, I bought them,” Aegon interrupted.

His lips were covered by stains of tomato sauce, and you gave him a napkin so he would clean himself. He quickly took it and cleaned his mouth.

“Aegon, she's a guest,” Aemond said.

“And?”

“And you need to be polite.”

“I'm sharing my pizza with all of you, I think I'm being polite enough,” he argued as he pointed at the three pizzas on the table.

“I can go and buy some beer,” Jacaerys suddenly offered, “uh… there's a store around the corner, I can grab some beers for you.”

“That's so thoughtful, Jace,” Baela thanked him.

“You guys need to be careful,” you warned them.

“Why?” Jace questioned.

“It's just that your brother is here, and he is a minor-”

“I’m sixteen,” he quickly replied.

“Which means you have to wait two more years to legally drink,” you reminded him.

“Listen, it's my free night, and I don't want to listen to music or smell a beer tonight,” Aegon groaned, interrupting the conversation.

“No one is inviting you to join, Aegon,” Jace murmured.

You gave him a bad look. “Don't be mean.”

Of course no one noticed, but Aegon looked down at his lap just so he would hide the faint rose blush that appeared on his cheeks.

“Y/n will be busy tonight, so maybe you guys can give me some company,” she proposed to Aemond and Jacaerys, who immediately nodded.

“Can I be there too?” Luke asked.

“As long as you stay away from the alcohol,” Baela told him.

“Fine,” he sighed.

“Then you can join us,” she cheerfully said.

An hour was all they needed to create their own personal little pub. You were in your room, the door closed and your eyes feeling tired from reading so much - especially when you had to almost guess what the poorly written words were. The weariness was starting to show as you would continuously jawn and rub your eyes, trying to stay focused on your task.

You saw the clock. 11pm. As you listened to the faded music coming from the living room, you missed the days when you were able to stay awake until sunrise. Perhaps you were getting old.

Or maybe you just needed coffee.

The pen in your hand dropped as you stood up, stretching your limbs and sighing while you put on your comfy slippers. You left your room and rushed into the kitchen, finding Jace staring at Aemond and Baela sitting on the couch. He looked dissociated, as if his mind was giving him a thousand thoughts in a second, and even when you saw him distracted, you asked him:

“Where are the coffee pods?”

Jacaerys’ eyes wouldn't even dare to leave Baela. You would notice how he was nervously tapping the kitchen counter and biting his lip. It was quite obvious that he didn't even hear a word of what you've just said.

“How long have you known her?” He suddenly asked.

“Who? Baela?” you spoke as you looked into the drawers.

“Yes,” he said as he finally turned around to look at you.

“She's been my best friend since sixth grade, why- Oh, here they are,” you mumbled once you found what you were looking for.

You grabbed the coffee pod and put it in the coffee machine, waiting next to it for the cup to be filled.

“So you know,” he assumed. “Of course you do, she's your best friend.”

“What do I know?”

“That we- you know…” he shyly said. “Summer Camp, Dragonstone… uh, sex.”

“Well, she just told me, actually…” you confessed. “I mean, I knew how she lost it, but she never told me the name of the guy, so I didn't know you two had met before. Also, you've never mentioned anything about that camp before, so...”

“Gods, she looks even more beautiful than I remembered,” he said with a shy smile, looking at Baela and then back at you. “Shit, she's here and my hair looks hideous, I don't know why I cut my curls off, I feel like Samson.”

“You look fine, Jace.”

“Yeah, you say that to Aegon everyday, how can I believe you?”

You were about to open your mouth and say that you actually meant it each time you would say that to Aegon, but, somehow, admitting that information made you feel embarrassed. You just decided to change the subject before the silence turned into an awkward one.

“Listen, you do you, I'll be in my room-”

“Wait, no,” he interrupted you. “You need to stay here.”

“Why?”

“Because I don't- How am I supposed to get close to Baela if you're gone?” He asked you, widening his eyes with panic.

“The same way you did when you first met her, isn't it easy?”

“You have to understand,” he said, looking deadly serious. “17 year old me, is not the same person as 22 year old me. I've grown weak.”

“Find that inner 17 year old you,” you shrugged, as you started to slowly walk away. “Best of luck, my friend.”

You walked out of the kitchen with the cup of hot coffee in your hand. As you passed by the living room, you gave a threatening look to Luke who was too close to the beers in the center table. As a response, he lifted his hands in a gesture of innocence, and looked at you with those blue, puppy eyes. You sighed, resuming your way towards your room and humming the song that was playing back in the living room.

Once you returned, it was a complete surprise to see Aegon laying on your bed with his computer on his lap and a bowl of chips on his side. He was shoeless, in his pajamas, looking so comfortable that you even thought for a small second that you accidentally entered his room instead of yours.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, as you walked towards your desk and left the coffee cup there.

“I'm watching a movie and they aren't letting me listen because their music is too loud,” he explained.

“Why don't you use subtitles?”

He scoffed, “I'm watching a movie, not reading a fucking book.”

“Aegon, you need to stop appearing in my room,” you mumbled. He paused his movie, sitting up on the bed. “Last time was a disaster.”

“I won't be a bother to you, I swear it. I'll be quiet and let you do your thing,” he told you, looking at you with his puppy, lilac eyes. You couldn't say no.

“Fine,” you mumbled, sitting in your chair before you resumed your work. “Keep the volume down too, please.”

“Alright,” he said, and each started to focus on your own thing.

You gave him one last look before you turned around and grabbed your pen. The music was muffled thanks to the thickness of the walls, and all you could hear was the soft voices of the actors coming out of Aegon's computer. It was quite relaxing, there was no awkward silence or anything as such. It felt comfortable and nice.

His presence felt nice.

Suddenly, you heard him laughing out loud, and it was contagious enough to make you smile, distracting you from your work. You turned around only to see him covering his face with one of your pillows, somehow you thought it was cute.

“What are you watching?” you asked as you stood up and sat on your bed next to him.

“Pineapple Express,” he said between giggles, still laughing at one of the scenes.

“Can I watch too?”

“I thought you were busy working,” he replied, looking up at you.

You sighed, “yeah, you’re right.”

Aegon looked at you for a few seconds before pausing the movie and sitting up.

“You look stressed,” he pointed out. “Want some help with whatever you're doing?”

“Would you help me?” you asked, incredulously.

“Yeah, why not? I wanted to be a teacher when I was little,” he confessed, “until I realized I was supposed to go to university to do it.”

“You haven't gone to university?”

“I have, actually,” he nodded as he spoke. “My father forced me to go. I never finished it though, I dropped out.”

“What program?”

“Business administration,”

“Was it fun?”

“The most boring shit ever,” he replied, and you chuckled.

He looked at you as you laughed, and a small —almost nonexistent— smile appeared on his face. It was an involuntary gesture.

“Why did he force you to study something you didn't want?” you curiously asked.

You knew that perhaps you were overstepping a line, but it was the first time he ever said something about him to you, and you were craving to know more. You just couldn't help it.

“Alright, what is this? A fucking interview?”

“Oh, come on!” you insisted. “I've seen you naked already, remember? I know more of you than Aem and Jace.”

“Bold of you to assume they haven't seen me naked yet,” he chuckled. “Will you want help with those hieroglyphics or not?”

“Don't be mean,” you scolded him. “They are just learning how to properly write.”

“Which grade is it?”

“Third.”

“Amateurs…” he mumbled.

“Stop it, they're kids,” you giggled.

“No excuse.”

“Alright, I'm gonna keep going before it gets too late,” you said as you stood up.

Aegon, out of impulse, stretched his hand to grab yours, stopping you from moving away. You turned around, failing to hide your surprise. He seemed unfazed by his own action on the outside, but on the inside he was panicking and desperately wondering why he did that.

“I can help you if you want,” he offered again.

You had to take a second to process it and answer him.

“It's- it's fine,” you shrugged. “You keep watching your movie, don't worry.”

He pressed his lips; an awkward smile.

“Alright,” he said, and let go of your hand.

“Thank you, though.” As you pronounced, Aegon looked back at the screen, almost as if he was suddenly ashamed of looking at you.

You tried to say something, but you just pressed your lips together, sealing them so they wouldn't utter a word. You turned around, and sat back on your chair. For a second you just stayed there, staring at the papers scattered around the desk, and thinking about that sudden gesture that was so odd coming from him.

You couldn't help but to ask yourself whether it was a good idea to have rejected his help, thinking that maybe this would push him away once again.

You were overthinking everything, as usual.

As you turned around, you noticed that Aegon was already with his eyes on you. Nervously, you cleared your throat.

“What?” He asked.

“Uh, what?” you repeated.

“What's wrong with you?”

“What do you mean?”

“You've been staring at your desk without moving for like a minute,” he explained. “Are you suffering a stroke or what?”

“No, I just- uh…”

“What?” he interrupted you.

“You're not mad at me, right?” The suddenness of the question made Aegon chuckle and think it was a joke, but after seeing your serious expression he realized you weren't actually kidding.

“Why would I- Listen, if I didn't get mad at you for seeing me naked, why would I get angry because of this?”

“Actually, you did get mad at me for it,” you murmured.

“Well, I'm not mad at you now, okay? Now chill out.”

“Alright, I'm so-”

“Don't apologize,” he stopped you before you could even finish. Then, he softly chuckled. “Why do you act like that?”

“Like what?”

“Weird.”

“To be honest, the first month here I thought you hated me,” you admit, “sometimes I still do, actually.”

“Nonsense,” he scoffed. “I wouldn't be your friend if I hated you, would I?”

“I'm your friend?” You repeated, widening your eyes with emotion.

Aegon looked at you weirded out, “of course you are, you dumbass. I saw you naked, we live together; I think I had no choice, actually.”

You smiled.

“Well, it's nice being your friend.”

“It is,” he agreed.

Baela suddenly opened the door in a scandalous way. You jumped in your seat, taking all your attention towards her; she wasn't drunk, but she was certainly a bit tipsy. Aegon immediately closed his computer and grabbed his now empty bowl of chips, standing up from your bed.

“Guess the party's over, so I'll go to my room now,” he announced. Some tiny part of you didn't want him to go just yet. You liked having his company. “Good night, y/n.”

“Good night, Aegon,” you sighed.

“Goodnight, Bella.”

“It's Baela,” she corrected him.

“Yeah, whatever.”

He left the room in a hurry as Baela rolled her eyes. Soon, she went to her backpack and took an oversized shirt she used as pajamas, all while staring at you with a subtle smirk on her face.

“What?” you asked.

“You need to tell me what's going on between you and him.” She removed her clothes and put on the shirt.

“What do you mean?”

“Don't play dumb,” she murmured as she went to the bed and laid beneath the covers. “Girl, you have bewitched the guy!”

“What? That's- that's nonsense.”

“Look at the floor, there's a path of his drool all the way from your bed to the door.”

“Baela, he's not- he doesn't do relationships.”

“Oh, but he would definitely do you, you know?” She said imitating your tone.

“Alright…” you muttered, rolling your eyes.

“You need to shoot your shot there, he's hot.” You felt the heat running to your cheeks, and of course she immediately noticed it. You hated that she knew you too well. “Oh my! You're blushing!”

“Baela, that's enough.”

“I can definitely sense a vibe there.”

“There's nothing vibing here.”

“Whatever you say.”

“Just go to sleep, okay?” you groaned, turning towards the desk.

“Goodnight, love,” she said. You could hear her smirk on her voice.

“Goodnight,” you simply said, sighing tiredly.

The thought of Aegon being into you was too far-fetched to be truthful. He had just started to see you as a friend, and even when he saw you naked he didn't try to make a move or make comments about it that would give you sogns of his attraction towards you. In fact, he was rather indifferent about it. On the other hand, even when a part of you thought of Aegon as someone handsome, he wasn't your type at all; too immature, perhaps, it would never work between you two.

You shook your head, weirded out with the mere idea of being thinking about it. At the end of the day, Aegon was just another of your friends… right?

BOLD MEANS I COULDN'T TAG YOU.

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[fan-goddess]

Patience

Pairing: Modern!Aegon Targaryen x girlfriend!reader

Summary: Aegon gets impatient when reader denies giving him what he wants at a dinner. So he decides to take it into his own hands. Literally…

Warnings: NSFW below the cut, m masturbation, p in v sex, porn with plot,

Taglist: @lovelykhaleesiii,

Your long term boyfriend Aegon Targaryen has never been a patient person. Even with the simplest of tasks, within five minutes or even less, your boyfriend will be whining and nagging like a child on the verge of a tantrum.

His patience only got worse when he had to wait for sex. That night Alicent had invited both you and him to a dinner with the family. A thing Aegon hated doing, yet tolerated cause he knew otherwise he’d get an earful from his mother. You’d dressed up in a nice dress Aegon had suggested and drove there together. Throughout the entire journey, he’d been attempting to slyly tempt you to turn around and go home.

“Come on princess! I know that you don’t exactly get much joy out of my mother and her stupid fucking dinners! So let’s go home now, and maybe we can watch some Netflix and just chill together… just you and me?” His hand that always seems to be permanently attached to your knee travels higher up your leg, before you stop it with your own hand and a stern look.

“No you little baby. I promised Alicent we’d go tonight! Plus, Helaena’s gonna be there and we haven’t caught up in weeks. I wanna see how her date with that flower shop girl went last week ago.”

The whine that rips through Aegons throat was almost amusing. You held an amused smirk, but it seemed to only make him more whiny. As the rest of the car ride Aegon looked out the window and every so often changed the song playing on the radio calling it “practically illegal of the ear”.

When you get to the restaurant and get directed to the table, you greet Alicent and the rest warmly. Aegon does hang around more behind, yet he does share a couple warm smiles with Aemond and Helaena when they come to greet him. When Alicent comes to him though, the two exchange only the needed pleasantries and a small kiss on the forehead before she comes and starts a conversation with you about her latest trip.

Eventually all the pleasantires were exacjnged, and you all are sat at the giant table, where you and Aegon are placed to sit in front of Alicent together. Though not even ten minutes pass before Aegon finds himself leaning over to whisper in your ear, “quickie in the bathroom?”

You give him a raised eyebrow

“But it’s aching! Are you going to be so cruel denying your boyfriend the release he so desperately needs?” He whispered in your ear. His hand mimicked what it did early in the car. It wandering further and further upwards, getting stopped by your own hand once again before it could reach it’s desired location.

“Yes I will. Because if my boyfriend doesn’t stop being such a fucking brat he’ll get his ass spanked and won’t be able to sit properly for a while. That’s why.” You didn’t look at Aegon when you whispered your threat to him, though when you did after your threat, It almost broke you then and there to see his eyes visibly turn dark with want and desperation.

Throughout the rest of the evening however when you tried to continue with the night as normal, Aegon persisted in his mission to tease you into getting what he wanted. When you still somehow manage to continue to speak Alicent about her latest trip went (a boring conversation you must admit), Aegon successfully managed to slip a hand up the length of your dress and slowly caress the skin of your inner thigh with a single finger.

When you looked at him with warning though, Aegon was already looking at you with a raised and daring look. As if he wanted you at that very moment to call him out and punish him in front of everyone. You shoved his hand off you, and nearly openly laughed at the small pout beginning to grow on his lips.

Aegons next play though, was downright sinful and deserving of purgatory. He’d gone to the bathroom innocently enough. Not subtly requesting for you to go to. Not whispering how he’ll be waiting for you. Instead, aegon sends you a two minute long video of him jerking off in the toilet stalls.

You were never more quick to check if you had your volume of in your life, and the breath you released was one of gratitude that it was. The camera angle wasn’t the best, but you’ve got to give him some credit considering he was in a shitty restaurant toilet cubicle.

He’d propped it up on the toilet basin so it showed his hard dick and his face in one shot. There was obviously some talking Aegon was doing to play it out. Probably some words going along the lines of, “This is what happens when you deny me princess…” followed by a whiny breathless moan. However it seems the genius forgot you weren’t able to listen to it. There’s no issue with that though. As now you’re able to save it and plop it into your ‘Aegons porn’ folder in your photos app to listen to later.

Aegon comes back to the table a couple minutes after sent the video, with what could only be described as a shit eating grin on his face. “Did you see it?” He whispers.

An idea forms in your head and you can’t wait to plan it out. “No? See what sweetheart?” To play it up ever more you give Aegon an innocent look and a bat of an eyelash that always makes Aegon stir in his seat. It works now, as an annoyed look in his eye gives away his intentions and leaves him moping the rest of the dinner.

Mean and bitchy comments were all that left his mouth the rest of the evening. Whenever snippets of conversations entered his ear his mouth ran and ran, and by the end of it most at the table were giving him some very dirty looks. Even when you placed a hand on his knee and mimicked what he did earlier, trailing a hand to his inner thigh to feel him, didn’t make his mood anymore bearable. You did feel the area on his crotch tighten slightly, though Aegon it seemed already decided his attitude for the rest of the night.

When the dinner was over, you exchanged pleasantries with Alicent and Helaena. Even exchanging a small polite smile with Aemond while he lurked behind. Aegon only gave a forced smile to his mother. Heading straight to the car after that and slamming the door behind him.

Alicent raised a brow at his behaviour. “My my I wonder what’s gotten into him? Though I can’t say I’m not surprised…” she sighs. It nearly makes you want to laugh out loud. It’s you. You’re what’s gotten into him. Still, you play the role of the nice responsible girlfriend and say the goodbyes from you and Aegon.

When you get in the car, aegons already connected his phone to the speaker to listen to some music, and is now looking out the car window with what may or may not be a pout on his face. You ask him if he’s still sulking, but he only responds with a huff and changes the playlist when some obnoxious pop song comes on. It’s almost amusing when ‘I hate my mom’ by GRLwood comes on first. Yet no laughter is exchanged. Only aegons moody huffs every so often.

Eventually you both arrive to your shared apartment. Aegon slams his door like a child in a tantrum, yet you cannot find yourself to be annoyed. If anything, you’re surprised he’s been able to hold this attitude up for so long just because of a simple tease.

“Hey darling?” You call out to him. He halts in his movement before he can lay a hand on the door, and tilts his head slightly so his ears directed to you to let you know he’s listening. “When you get up, strip and lay on the bed nice and pretty for me ok?” It’s barely noticeable, but Aegon grins slightly and speeds up his movements to head into the apartment.

You decide to take a little longer to head up, purely to antagonise him and make him sweat a little.

When you do eventually head into the apartment, you follow what looks to be a near frantic pile of clothes that lead into your shared bedroom, and when you enter it you’re very glad to find Aegons listened to instructions perfectly. “Good boy Aegon…” you praise with a smile while Aegon reciprocates it shyly with a light blush on his face.

“Lay on your back and spread your legs nice and wide for me please darling.”

He follows your instructions quickly, and you cannot help but admire him while he does. “Good boy…” you smile.

His cocks already fully hard, with the tip flushing to a shade of pink, and it takes you great pleasure in watching Aegon flush while you undress in front of him. When you’re fully naked, you crawl onto the bed and waste no time in sitting on Aegons soft thighs and using your hand to drag his cock to your dripping cunt.

The whine Aegon lets out is downright sinful, and the way his hands go to grip at you hips as you slowly rock on him.

“Please… don’t tease…” he whines. You reluctantly listen. Though not because he asked as pretty as he did, but because your own arousal had been practically pooling in your underwear the moment Aegon sent the video.

While you bounced, Aegon eyes kept being drawn to your breasts. Practically hypnotised by them to your amusements. “Go on stupid baby… suck on them like a good boy…” He launches himself forward desperately and uses a mixture of both teeth and tongue, as well as sucking little hickeys on your skin.

Your not surprised that after being wet for so long you last so little. As the coil in your stomach already feels like it’s tightening so much it may burst. Aegons grip also seems to be getting tighter, while his eyes are scrunched up and his mouth seems to be permanently latched on your nipple with his pathetic moans and whimpers vibrating through your skin. If you knew Aegon, then this was a clear indicator that he was close too.

A small pop brings your attention to Aegon, who’d now let go of your nipple and instead now had his mouth in a perfect o while he moaned like crazy with his eyes scrunched closed. It only got worse when one of your hands crept to his hair and clenched a fist in it.

The coil in your stomach gets tighter and tighter, and with a series of clenches on Aegons dick and a harsh tug of his hair you come undone, bringing Aegon with you with a loud whine as you feel the sudden warmth of his cum flood you. When you release yourself from his grip and go to lay down beside him, you can even feel the remnants of some of it sliding out of you.

Aegons head immediately goes to the comfort of your tits and mumbles something you can’t hear. “What is it baby?” You ask while you fiddle with his sweat drenched hair.

“I’m sorry for being a brat…” it’s not any better in regards to volume since his head is quite literally smushed in the valley of your tits, but as least this time you heard it.

“That’s okay baby…” You say with a smile. “I know you don’t really mean it you drama prince…”

[two-white-butterflies]

parallel lines | d. targaryen | prologue

Description: An ordinary middle school teacher moves to a desolate town with her fiancee. After suffering episodes of vivid nightmares, she realizes that his uncle looks exactly like the man in her dreams.

Pairings: daemon targaryen/reader, aemond targaryen/reader

Trope: Reincarnation

(A rewrite of 'Waiting for a Bus')

series masterlist |

"Story of a romance torn apart by fate Hundreds of years ago, they fell in love, like we did And I'd die for you in the same way." - Timeless, Taylor Swift.

(New York City, USA. August 23, 2008)

It was a hail mary from the beginning - only few people were reincarnated into a human form and only a small percentage of that was able to remember their past life. It was typically provoked by a traumatic event - and you were unfortunate to experience it so early in your second life. "Where are you going?" a small voice escapes your mouth, there was something dangerous about tonight.

There was a hurricane going on outside - water crashing upon the littered streets of Downtown NYC. "Calm down, I have to check something over there, baby. Can you be a good girl and stay here?" Mother inquired, while patting your head comfortingly.

"Can't I come with you?" your eyebrows merged into each other, she tilted her head. "No, it will be quick." she promised, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "I'm scared," you slumped into your seat, seeing lightning bounce off your 18th floor apartment window. "It will be over soon, it's just rain." she mumbled, letting go of your body.

You reached for the headphones that were inside your pocket. There were only two things that comforted you; mother and music. Both things so pleasant that it immediately calmed you down.

"So, you're leaving in the morning. In the early train." you carefully hummed along the song, hiding your face under the enormous pile of blankets on your bed. "Well, I could say everything's alright. And I could pretend and say goodbye." your humming drowned out the noise of the storm.

You breathe a silent sight of relief. Yep! You could take care of yourself. There was no need for mother's help. "Where is she?" you found yourself mumbling out loud. You lift the blanket off your body, feeling your feet touch the cold floor.

"Ma?" your tiny voice bounced off the empty apartment. You were supposed to move out tomorrow - something about not being able to pay taxes after the market crashed. "Ma?" your voice bounced off the apartment again, with no reply. "Can't stop loving you. No, I can't stop loving you." you could hear the music play in your head.

Just as your feet touched the floor of the living room. You see her. Body sprawled on the floor - blood everywhere, and the door wide open. "Ma!" this time your voice is louder than before. Loud enough for your next-door neighbor to hear.

The last thing you could remember was Mrs. Dantes' apartment door opening, before your vision shifts to black once more.

You opened your eyes again - this time you were in a different place. The entire world smelled like grass and ash. "We need to go home," you gritted your teeth - a mere spectator in your own body. The man beside you was of a different beauty - piercing purple eyes and silver locks. He was a thing of the gods. His eyes were round - almost prey-like. You'd almost assume that his smile could enchant any passerby, but his expression was one of anger.

"We are not going anywhere, you know of the reason we are here. I intend to follow through our plans," he responded with gritted teeth. It pained him to speak to you in this manner - but the anger he felt. It could almost burn armies. "I would rather die," you frowned - and only then did his gaze softened.

It was your thirteenth fortnight camped outside of Harrenhall. There was a deep fog that loomed over God's Eye. It was an auspicious day, the shamans tell you that it is perfect for war. The gods will be on the side of the good, but when have the Targaryens been good?

"We will die if my sister's lover ever has the mind to descend upon us." you warned him, in fear of Vhagar. "I will die," he corrected - turning his body in your direction - cupping your chin and moving your face closer to his. "- you will be safe, wife." he pressed a gentle kiss on your lips.

His hands were calloused - eyes filled with so much fury, but he treated you with such tenderness - you couldn't help but love him more. "I will be safer with the thought that you are alive. I beg of you, please do not fight in a war in which your family is destined to lose. Let Aegon take his crown - let Aegon die with it." you begged him.

"The crown is not his. It is Rhaenyra's." he defended, playing with the rivet of his dagger. "It will not benefit us." you whisper and his eyes narrowed. "It does not matter now," he placed you behind him - seeing the figure of his much awaited nephew.

Aemond stands a few hundred feet away from you, beside him was your sister, Alys. "I see that you've finally found the time to honor your dear uncle," Daemon begins with his exposition. He glares at Aemond with his two healthy eyes.

"How could I not? I've heard stories about a knight - how his Dark Sister has defeated armies and armadas. I've heard stories about his beautiful wife too, with vixen eyes that are hooks for the soul. I see his wife - but I do not see him." Aemond antagonized.

"It might have something to do with your missing eye, nephew." your husband responded, and Caraxes prowls behind you. "I see very well, uncle." Aemond corrected and Daemon tilts his head. "And who is the judge of that?" he jested, and there was a moment of silence.

Aemond moves towards Vhagar, boarding his dragon without any other words. You look above - seeing the Prince circle the lake with his noble stead. Daemon places a hand on your cheek. "I will return, and I will honor my promises. This is the last battle, wife. Thank you for your patience," he bridges your lips together.

Sealing his fate with a single kiss.

He walks past you - to the direction of Caraxes, and he boards his dragon too. "Daemon!" you yell after him, but he reluctantly ignores you - following after his nephew to the heavens.

(Dragonview, Canada. January 2, 2023)

"Are you alright?" Aemond places a gentle hand on your shoulder. Your eyelids flutter gently, beads of sweat formed atop your forehead. "Yeah - yeah." you answer much to quickly. "It was just another nightmare." you affirmed, while staring at the digital clock on your bedside table. 3:41 AM.

"Did I wake you?" you scratch the back of your head. "No, I was about to start sleeping." he chuckled nervously. "- I'm really worried about you, angel." he whispers, while laying down beside you. He wraps his strong arms around your body - domineering over your small frame. "The nightmares have been going on since we met." he buried his face in the crook of your neck.

A scoff exits your mouth.

"It's been gone bebè. It only came back because we moved to a new city." you hypothesized, kissing his cheek - smelling the faint scent of aftershave. "It would be better if it was gone ... forever." he retorted, rubbing circles on your thighs. "If it continues, you promise to get it fixed?" he inquired and you laugh.

"You make me sound like a robot." you bit your lower lip. "Elementary teacher goes crazy and needs to get spare parts." he joked. "You make me crazy, you know that?" you giggle. The light of the lampshade illuminated his features perfectly. "I'm glad that you have a new job, there's someone else to blame about your madness." he kissed your jawline.

The digital alarm clock rings. 4:00am.

"Get your hands off me, Mr. Targaryen. I have to get ready for school." you whispered, while lifting his fingers off your waist. "No time for a little quickie?" he winked and you rolled your eyes. "There's time for that when I get home." you answered while lifting the blanket off your body. Strategically walking towards the bathroom before he gets another word in.

The school was a few minutes away from your apartment. The town was small - one of the few islands in the southern part of Canada. "According to the book that you gave me about this place, Dragonview used to be a volcano. Which is weird since we aren't in the Pacific Ring of Fire side of Canada." you opened the conversation.

"You are cruel for having me drive you to school - and listen to you speak about volcanology." he humored, placing his free hand on your thighs. "But is the book really accurate? I mean - I can see the mountain from our apartment window. I'd like to check it out if it used to be a volcano." you turned to look at him.

He nodded his head.

"My family's been living in this island for thousands of years. I think they used to call it Dragonmont - there's no magma left. No traces of the fact that it used to be a Volcano. Lots of people went to study it when I was a child. Not a volcano, they say." he relayed the information. "You know, my father used to tell me that dragons lived in this island." he chuckled in an amused tone.

You flinch. The word 'dragon' made your head spin.

"We should hike it in the weekends. If you're free?" your eyebrows merged into each other and he nods. "I'm always free for you, love." he confirmed, halting in front of the school building. To your surprise, the school was a generous size. Small enough that it couldn't rival the schools in the state, but bigger than the typical schools found in Canadian Provinces.

You lean closer to his body, giving him a soft peck on the cheek. "I'll pick you up at six, you're welcome to be late." he placed a hand on your shoulder.

"I love you," you smiled while opening the door. "I love you too." he answered - and you slam the door shut.

Watching as his Honda Civic rolls away from view.

St. Maria Goretti, the patron saint of purity, young women and sexual assault. She was also the namesake of the section that you were going to teach. 'First year of teaching and I already have an advisory class, god. I'm jealous of myself.' you shook your head while placing your bag on the desk. Teaching grade-school was easy. Especially in a country like Canada - where they had a reputation of being kind.

A woman clears her throat, knocking on the door three times. "Good morning, you must be the new teacher. I'm Rhaenyra, the Senior High School Subject Coordinator for English. My advisory is just across the hall, Grade 4 - Saint Agnes of Rome." she introduced herself, holding out her hand for you to shake.

Silver locks and a familiar pair of purple eyes. "(Your Name), I teach Mathematics - as you can see, I'm the advisor of Grade 6 - Saint Maria Goretti." you smiled at her, shaking her hand. "Oh, you're very lucky to have this section. There's a saying that goes around here, all the advisors of Saint Maria Goretti turn out to be very successful." she winked, a smile is etched upon your features.

She takes another step forward.

"What happened to the last teacher for everyone to think that?" your eyes narrowed and she leaned on the desk. "She ended up marrying a hot-shot lawyer, I heard that she lives in Monaco now. There's a lot of other teachers before you - this position hasn't been held for more than a year. I mean I think there was a teacher that lasted longer but it's been decades. 10-15 years ago? But she moved to New York." Rhaenyra tried to remember the past.

You place a binder on the table.

"It's nice that you remember the school's history. There aren't a lot of teachers who bother to learn all of that." you compliment, sensing that she was staring deep into your face. "I was born and raised here. She was my advisor - she spent her last year in school with us. I hope that you last longer than the others though," she breathed and you could only hum in agreement.

"I'll do my best - plus, my boyfriend was also born and raised here. He wants to make amends with his family. If all goes well, I see myself settling here." you explained, smiling at the thought of Aemond. Her watch beeps, 7:25am.

"Well, I will see you in the cafeteria during lunch. I'm afraid that I'll have to say goodbye for now," she waved - retreating back into the hallway. "See ya," you bid goodbye - the room fills with more students.

RHAENYRA STRONG She's here.

DAEMON TARGARYEN Who?

Rhaenyra's phone rings - the caller ID flashes for a moment. "What's up? Is everything alright?" he inquires. She could hear the classical music play in the background. "(Your Name) is here, and she doesn't remember anything." she breathed out in a panicked tone.

INSTAGRAM

yourname_: with the advanced class ✨

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tatianaVANILLA: The way that idk what those letters are 🤣

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DaemonTargaryen.phd: My lovely and beautiful Caraxes... 👍🏻

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VexanaNailss: Prof Daemon has the dawg in him

jacejacejacevelaryon: 2 dogs 1 frame 😨 - LucerysGaming: You literally live in his house 💀 - - jacejacejacevelaryon: You also eat his ice cream. Your point is?

LaenorVelaryonLaw08: Sea wants a playdate

DaemonTargaryen.phd: @LaenorVelaryonLaw08 fine since you beg 🤣

next chapter>>

[vhaenna]

Since i got a lot of attention on my last post about modern!aegon x reader, and yall BEGGED for more (no one did) here is Modern!aemond x reader.

These make sence in a former enemies to friends with benefits that have feelings for each other context.

[targaryen-dynasty]

SHADOWS PLAY ON IDLE HANDS.

Modern!Aemond Targaryen x (ex-)wife!Reader

WARNINGS: SEXUAL CONTENT—MINORS DNI; oral (fem receiving), p in v, missionary position, unprotected sex, creampie, spitting, tiddy sucking, making up sex, angst (?)

WORDS: 4.3 K

NOTES: Based on this request. Thank you so much, @multyfangirl! 🥰 This is not beta read!

❗️𝐚𝐝𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

Was it silly of you to think that they’d assign a cabin to all the female supervisors to share back when you signed up to supervise your daughter’s summer camp? Most definitely, because otherwise you wouldn’t be sharing it with your ex-husband right now.

Technically, he’s your soon-to-be ex-husband, considering the divorce hasn’t yet been finalized, but still, he’s the last person you want to share a cabin with. 

It’s night four, and you two haven’t done much talking up until now. With it being a summer camp for children in the kindergarten age, your days are quite busy which allows you to stay away from him as much as possible. 

Unless it’s time for you to go to sleep. 

Walking through the cabin, you go to fetch your pajamas, ready to retire for the night. Aemond lies in his bed, a book in his hand. So far, he’s pretending to not hear you to not acknowledge you, and you’re kind of grateful for it, because it means you don’t have to watch your every move around him. 

Although you’ve been together and married for quite a few years, it does feel like you’re living around a stranger ever since you both came to the conclusion to separate five months ago, him moving out of the house quite early probably playing a big part in it. 

The divorce certainly would settle sooner, if it wasn’t for your daughter, and you both don’t want to make it more traumatizing for her like it already is. 

His voice is somewhat soft when it cuts through the silence, speaking your name and making you flinch and stop on your way to a little nook to get changed in private. 

You can’t deny the warmth that spreads through your body at the sound of it. “Mh?” you raise your brow, looking at him from over your shoulder. 

Despite his lingering eye secretly watching you, he turns his gaze back to the book in his hand. “I need to ask you a question,” he says almost nonchalantly, trying to keep his voice quieter so as to not disturb the silence that surrounds you. 

The mixed signals make you frown, and you shrug your shoulders before disappearing in the little nook. “Don’t really have a choice, do I?” you state rather matter-of-factly than asking. There comes no reply from him, obviously waiting until you're back in view. 

As you emerge from the cranny, you’re dressed in one of his older band shirts that reach your mid-thighs, covering the short, pink shorts you wear. You still sleep in his clothes, despite you separating quite a few months ago, a habit you had picked up pretty early into your relationship. The memories you connect with his old t-shirts always manage to lift up your spirits, remembering the good old days. 

It’s obvious he tries to keep himself occupied with the book, the slight struggle always drawing his eye back towards you. There’s some nostalgia seeing you dressed in his old stuff as well as the shorts only you can get away with wearing. 

Heat spreads on your cheeks as you walk towards your bed, slipping under the covers so his eye would finally stop devouring you. You’re not one to start arguments, especially with the summer camp having barely started, but you know there are some unresolved issues between you two that he’s dying to talk about.  “Your question, Aemond?” 

And then he finally closes his book, placing it on the nightstand table next to his bed to focus all of his attention on you. A shiver runs down your spine at that, and you subconsciously straighten your back. 

“Do you miss me?”

The question surprises you as you don’t expect your ex-husband to ask you such an open question. You’re used to him being a bit more closed off and dismissive when it comes to your relationship, but on the other hand he was never one to beat about the bush. 

You’re left speechless for a moment, until you find the courage to answer in all honesty. “Yes, I do.” There’s no denying it. Not when you’re still wearing his clothes to bed. 

What you don’t expect is the simple “hm” that rumbles in his throat, clearly pleased at your hesitance, before he moves to turn away from you. 

Pressing your lips into a thin line at his reaction, you rub your hands against each other. Taking in a deep breath, you sit up straighter. “You know it wasn’t your fault, right? If anything, our marriage failed because of us, not because of one person alone.”

With the light of the moon shining through the windows of your cabin, highlighting the outline of Aemond, you can spot his body tense slightly at your words, but he does not turn around to face you again. 

He doesn’t speak as he takes in a breath, lying there motionless. The silence seems to stretch on for some time until it’s broken by him. “So, you don’t blame me?”

The urge to scoff at his words is hard to resist, but you manage, wanting to keep the air surrounding you as vulnerable and soft as it is right now. You shake your head, despite him not seeing it at all. “Of course not, Aemond,” you say. “Your father’s death hit us both quite hard, and with the winter fever depression on both sides we just couldn’t support each other through that period of time, I think. Maybe if we would have figured something needed to change, we wouldn’t have called it quits.”

Aemond is quickly reminded of how comfortable he’s always felt around you when you were younger and still together. He has expected that you would simply grow to despise one another completely, and not that you would take the matter into an empathic approach. 

“I should have been more attentive to you,” he says as he remains facing away from you. 

You’re pleasantly surprised about his answer, despite how short it is. The conversation you two are having heads down a more personal route, and it’s something you’re rather enjoying. You’re impressed by the new sense of maturity that he seems to have acquired ever since you parted ways. 

“Bullshit. We should have been more attentive to each other,” you retort, your tone as empathetic as you can make it without seeming over-soft.

“That’s true,” he says. He finally turns around, his eye finding yours. “We weren’t good for each other, were we?”

“And that’s not true,” you counter. “We had our flaws, yes, but if we hadn't been good for each other, our little girl wouldn’t have turned out the way she did. She’s amazing, and that’s to our credit.”

It’s a wonder to the both of you how your daughter turned out so well in spite of all the chaos that goes on between you and your divorce, and truly shows that you two must have done something right in your relationship. 

You sigh, thinking back to fond memories that make you chuckle. “Oh God, I was so cross with you during the birth. The audacity of you holding my hand and asking if I'm okay while I screamed and moaned for my life.”

The story makes him laugh. “Fuck, that was an experience. I’ll never forget you screaming ‘Do you THINK I’m okay?’ as you really squeezed the life out of me. I don’t know who was in more pain at that moment.”

Only with his narrative of the moment do you notice how amusing the memory truly is, painting the perfect picture of a couple in love in the midst of chaos. 

“You scared the wits out of me,” he adds, chuckling. 

Bending your legs at the knees, you make yourself more comfortable, not yet ready to fall asleep. Aemond watches you as you lick your lips. "To be fair, I really thought I’d go through it all alone, because you looked like you were going to faint when they gave me the epidural.”

You recall the sheer terror that was written all over his face as he watched you give birth to your daughter. Something you hadn’t seen before. 

“To this day, I don’t think that I have ever known so many feelings at once as I did when I saw you give birth,” he says, letting his gaze wander off to the side for a moment. “But I’ve pulled myself together, because you know I would have never lived that moment down. You would have made a whole show of it.”

“Oh, most definitely. It would have been my go-to story for so many family gatherings, because no one would believe me you’d faint. Aegon? Maybe, but you? Never,” you scoff. 

Aemond lets out a soft laugh. “Yeah, I was a real wuss during that moment. Perhaps you should have taken out your phone after the birth to record my reaction.”

You raise your brow, shooting him a glare. “That would have been an idea, because then we’d at least have some first photos of her during the check-up that don’t have me in the background naked, sweating and delivering the placenta.”

He smirks at the glare, not minding as it’s actually quite amusing to see you angry at him again for something not too serious. “That would have been a memory to remember. You, all sweaty after giving birth, and then there’s me, unconscious from seeing you give birth.”

The image makes you chuckle. “To be fair, we were quite young when that happened.”

“Too young, but we’ve worked out well enough in dealing with it, haven't we?”

You find yourself nodding in response to his words of confirmation. “Yes, in spite of all the hardships that surrounded us, we have managed quite well with her. We’ve been the best parents that we both have been able to be… together or not.” There’s a soft smile pulling at the corners of your lips. “How’s Vhagar faring with it? Meraxes does miss her sometimes.”

Aemond smiles fondly as he hears your words, more so that you inquire of his precious girl. “She misses him dearly,” he says, but he can’t shake off the feeling that there’s more to your words than just the wellbeing of your dogs. He smiles softly, and turns his head to look at you. “Just like I miss you.”

Your body feels as if it’s on fire with his confession, and you can’t keep your gazes locked. It’s all too much and not enough at once. And when Aemond lifts his blanket, gesturing for you to crawl over to him, you know he feels the same. 

“This bed is big enough for two,” he whispers. 

You’ve been rather stunned at the invitation, yet, you accept it without hesitation. Climbing out of your bed and into his feels all too natural for you, and his body next to yours is a feeling you’ve come to know quite well in your past but has been missing for some time. Your heart is pounding in your chest, but there’s no discomfort or tension between you.

Keeping a fair distance from him isn’t something you master, failing the moment his scent fills your nostrils and urges you to bury your head in the crook of his neck. Snuggling up against him, you’re sure to never leave the bed the moment his arms wrap around you. 

He buries his nose in your hair, inhaling your scent he’s clearly missed just as much as you missed his. The way you feel with your head resting against his jaw makes it hard for him to suppress the urge to pull you even closer to him for fear of pushing you away. 

It’s just both of your breathing filling the otherwise silent room, broken as he speaks. “I missed this.”

It certainly was dangerous to get so close to him, apparent in your half-lidded eyes as you pulled back to look at him. Your gaze flickers between his and his lips, your faces but mere inches apart. “I missed this, too.”

Encouraged by your words, Aemond brings his hand to your cheek, allowing his thumb to brush over your cheekbone, his own breathing becoming heavy as he watches you. 

The way you look back at him nearly causes him to lose the last bit of control he clings to as he desires you with a fire he hasn’t felt in a very long time. When his other hand comes to the back of your head and he leans in, you lick your lips which is more than enough to send him over the edge. 

His hand begins to slide down your back as his thumb traces your bottom lip, heat following in its wake. And then he dips his head forward enough to capture your lips, melting against each other.

Coaxed by his hand slipping beneath the oversized t-shirt you wear, you grip the collar of his t-shirt and pull him closer to you, not daring to break the kiss. His hands are impatient to tug on the flimsy shorts you wear, and you shimmy your way out of them as he pulls them down your legs. 

Your heavy breath fans over his kiss-swollen lips as you pull back from him to speak. Aemond doesn’t wait to hear your words, diving in to press his lips to your jaw and neck. “We… We should not… the divorce…” you trail off, panting heavily and suddenly well aware of how tightly you’re pressed against him. 

Bringing his hands to your belly, the hem of your shirt is riled up and pooling around your waist. “It doesn’t matter,” he rasps against your skin. “Just this one night…”

You nod, letting out a soft moan as he cups your breast. “One little night of bliss…” you mewl. 

It’s clear that the proximity to him gets you just as hot as he is, no longer trying to resist and giving into the feeling you’ve been fighting back for so long. There’s no resistance left in you, clearly forgetting all the bad things that have happened before. You don’t know what will happen between you two tomorrow morning or the day after that, but you can’t bring yourself to care about it at this moment. 

With your hands still fisting his shirt, you pull his body between your legs, the weight of his tall frame heavy on top of you now. He ruts against you as your lips meet again, moving roughly against yours as his hard cock strains against the boxer briefs he wears. You instinctively grind against him, desperate for any kind of friction against your needy pussy. 

The kiss is hardly broken as you pull the shirt over his head, exposing his alabaster skin and well toned torso, only for you to not admire it as he starts to nibble on your bottom lip. 

You trace your fingers across his torso, trailing lower until they hook beneath the waistband of his briefs. “I need you,” you whine, tugging at the elastic to encourage him to slip out of it. But Aemond merely tsks at that. 

“Easy there,” he drawls, mimicking your gesture with his fingers slipping beneath the waistband of your panties. He shifts to the side and pulls them down your legs, prompting you to shimmy your way out of them to help him. 

The blankets have long found their way down the bed, laying in a pile right next to it, and therefore you gasp when the cold air hits your soaked core. 

Aemond gets back between your legs again, scooting back and crouching down to kiss his way up your inner thighs, draping them over his shoulders. The moan you release brings heat to your cheeks, more so when his tongue makes contact with your cunt and coaxes another one to slip past your lips.

“You’re drenched,” he remarks smugly, dark blown eye gazing up at you from between your legs. 

Rolling your eyes at that, you entangle a hand into his hair and push his face down between your legs. “Don’t be such a tease now.”

Clearly not minding this bossy side at all, Aemond gets straight to the point. His lips wrap around your little bundle of nerves, and one suck of him already has you arching your back and rolling your hips like a bitch in heat. He alternates between gentle sucking and tracing it with his tongue, driving you insane  

Less than half a year apart and you’ve already forgotten just how good he is at putting his mouth to work. 

Two of his fingers slowly ease inside of you, expertly brushing your sweet spot in a come hither motion that has you tightly locking your legs around his head, not caring if it would crush or suffocate him. With one hand still in his hair, you tug on it not-so-gently which has Aemond groaning against your folds. 

The knot in your belly tightens all too quickly with the pace he sets up, lapping and sucking at your clit in tandem with his fingers scissoring in and out of you. But it doesn’t seem like that’s what Aemond wants. Being able to read all the telltale signs of your impending orgasm, he stops his ministrations without missing a beat. 

You’re baffled, the pleasure disappearing at once. When you look down at him, you spot his chin, lips and cheeks coated in your arousal, glistening in the dim light the moon casts through the windows. “W-What?” you whimper with a pout, trying to force his head back down again. But Aemond is stronger, making it clear he’s just played with you before. 

Watching him lick the remnants of your arousal from his swollen lips, you can’t help but moan, liquid fire coursing through your veins and making your longing for him even more apparent. 

“You don’t think I’m going to savor your first orgasm with my tongue, do you?” he asks matter-of-factly, peeling your legs off of him and sitting back on his haunches.

The breath hitches in your throat not only at his words, but also at the tip of his cock peeking from beneath the waistband of his briefs. He’s rock hard and aching, wanting to be buried inside of you. 

“Five months I had to live without this sweet pussy of yours, and I won’t spend any longer not being buried inside of it.”

Staring at his throbbing cock, you bite your bottom lip and nod almost in a sheepish manner. You pulling the shirt over your head and spreading your legs is all it takes for Aemond to rid himself of his briefs, one hand curling around his shaft as the other grabs you by your hip, pulling you towards him. 

He drags the bulbous tip of his cock through your drenched folds before he lines himself up with your entrance, your arousal making it easy for his thick cock to breach your tightness with little resistance.

The feeling of your pussy desperately sucking him inside until he’s buried to the hilt is a feeling of indescribable bliss that has you releasing a shaky breath in unison. Your hands fly to his shoulders for leverage, holding onto him as he towers over you, tall frame completely shielding your significantly smaller one. 

“Gods, I… forgot how big you are,” you breathe, gazing up at him with half-lidded eyes. 

He brings a hand to your waist, and places the other next to your head, keeping himself supported as he begins to grind his hips against yours. “Hm, fuck, we’ll get you used to it again tonight, princess,” he rasps, heavy panting audible in between the words. The pet name makes you clench around him. Oh, how your body has longed for him. 

You unravel beneath Aemond, arching your back and tipping your head back into the cheap pillows, the sight not making it easier for him to stay composed enough to not come on spot. 

And that’s when he moves to press his chest flush against yours, holding your cheek with one hand, whilst the other grabs the side of the headboard. His lips find the side of your face, kissing along your jaw, earlobe and down the side of your neck. You have your head tilted to the side, granting him even more access as the weight of his body stops you from squirming beneath him and rolling your hips. 

“Fuck, missed you so, so much,” he murmurs against your skin, drunk on your pussy. “All mine… won’t let you leave again.” 

You cross your arms behind his neck, one hand entangling into his silken, silver strands. Every time you try to arch against him, your hard nipples press against his chest. 

“Don’t want to,” you reply. 

Whimpering and whining beneath him, Aemond’s heavy grunts and groans fan over your flushed skin, spurring you on even more. There’s no rush to his movements, the both of you clearly savoring the moment of peace and making up for all the time you’ve lost, and yet it’s enough to build the pressure within your belly again.

The sparse, coarse hairs splayed around the base of his cock and over his pubic bone drag over your sensitive clit with the ruts of his hips, sending a shiver up your spine each time. His thrusts are gentle but determined, reaching deep and expertly brushing your sweet spot, and he fucks sweet, little mewls and moans out of your throat, filling the cabin.  

His thumb presses into your cheek to turn your face towards him, and you’re eagerly welcomed by his lips, capturing yours in a fervent and heated kiss. His lips move sensually against yours, his tongue slipping into your mouth and alternating with his teeth nibbling on your bottom lip. 

As he withdraws his lips from yours, a dark blown eye watching your blissed out expression, you try to chase them for yet another kiss, but he keeps your head in place. His lips are puckered slightly, and the thought of what’s to come makes your insides churn in a good way, becoming limp in your reverie. 

“Show me your tongue,” he commands, and you do as he says.  

Parting your lips and sticking out your tongue, you gaze up at him with wide, innocent eyes. As the warm puddle of his saliva hits it, you’re all too eager to swallow it down, moaning softly as the taste of him spreads on your tongue. 

“You’re gonna come for me now?” he drawls, pressing his chest against yours and dipping his head forwards to capture your earlobe between his teeth. It’s a grazing touch, but still has goosebumps prickling on your skin.

The coil inside of you tightens quickly with all sensations hitting you at once and the deep desire to please him, and you’re once again surprised by how well Aemond knows your body, strumming it like a fiddle and always getting what he wants. 

You convulse all over him with a whine, your hips grinding against his as the white, hot pleasure courses through your veins. But his thrusts don’t stutter, keeping the sensual intensity to the point you’re losing your mind. 

“That’s it,” he coos through gritted teeth. “Fuck, missed the pretty face you make when you’re coming all over my cock, hm.” You’re not sure whether it’s his pubic bone still dragging over your clit, his cock still sliding in and out of you, or if his praise alone is enough to prolong your orgasm, but you feel yourself keening at his words. 

It takes him a couple more thrusts that slowly bring you to the point of overstimulation, until his own orgasm washes over him. His cock is twitching and throbbing as your walls squeeze him for every drop of his seed, spending itself deep inside of your quivering walls. 

Aemond fucks you both through the aftershocks, a white ring of your mixed juices forming around the base of his thick shaft. But as his jaw slackens and he moves to pull out of you, you’re quick to lock your legs around his hips and flip him onto his back, giving neither of you time to get to grips with the events that transpire between you. 

The quizzical look he flashes you as you sit astride him encourages you to roll your hips against his, riding him through the overstimulation. “Maybe… maybe it would be a good idea to see someone about this,” you breathe, grabbing his hands and planting them at your waist. “A couple therapist perhaps, so we can talk through some of the issues that have come up between us, to resolve the root of all our issues…”

He sits up straight, snaking one arm around your waist to keep your body against his as his mouth finds your hard nipple, suckling and nibbling on it. The other hand fondles and gropes at your breast, squeezing it rather roughly. “Maybe that isn’t such a bad idea,” he groans against your skin, licking a flat stripe along the curve of your breast. “We…” his voice catches in this throat with you starting to ride him more fervently. “We should do that, yes.”

Neither of you is certain if the other’s words are genuine or just spoken in the heat of the moment, but it feels as though you’re seeing eye to eye in this moment. Something your relationship has been missing for a very long time. For the remainder of the night, you both seek to get what you still crave from each other, sharing countless orgasms and an unusually passionate embrace. 

However, as the night comes to an end with the light of the next day breaking through the windows of the cabin, and you wake up in Aemond’s arms, you figure that there was truth to your words and that you both strive to save and improve your marriage again. 

[sapphire-writes]

Pretty Little Thing

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

pairing: modern!Aemond x Reader

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

word count: 7.2k

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

link to other stories from me!

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

—

Be there soon.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You hadn’t even wanted to come.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Heard he’s good in the sack.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He never takes it off.

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

Aegon loves a good party.

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

She’s telling the truth. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Only it isn’t her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Am I?”

“Mhmm.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Yikes.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is that what I’m doing?”

“Sure seems like it.”

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

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

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

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

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

Aemond looks at you quizzically.

“How do I know Cerelle?”

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

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

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

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

You haven’t.

“The what?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Come on, pet! In the kitchen.”

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

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

Annoyance prickles under your skin.

“She’s my friend—”

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

You cross your hands over your chest. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Cerelle, I don’t—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Quite the sacrificial lamb you are. 

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

“No—no I’ve got it—oh!”

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

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

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

“It was an accident!”

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

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

—

Cerelle’s room lacks color and warmth. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Aemond purses his lips, glancing down at your legs. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s cold.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He hums again, his eye dropping to your lips.

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

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

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

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

Riiiip!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Stop, stop, please.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No other man has made you finish before.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The music downstairs has died.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“For you maybe.”

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

Not tonight.

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

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

Aemond frowns, reaching for his phone.

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

“You don’t have to—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There’s something new there. Almost possessive. 

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

Outside, snow begins to fall.

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

A Perfect Score - Chapter 8 - The Fallout | FigureSkating!AU

Summary: You wait for whatever secrets Larys might have, but they say things get worse before they get better. Right? | Word Count: 8k~ | Warnings under the cut~

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

Warnings: angst 💀, smut straight out the gate, semi-public(?) sex, degradation, praise, aemond being a sexual menace, dirty talk, p in v unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), creampie, mentions of emotionally abusive relationships (both platonic and romantic), mentions of injury resulting in loss of sight, lots of swearing, feelings of inadequacy

A/N: oh lord here we go

It had been a week since you’d last heard from Larys, and the anticipation of what he would return with had your palms sweating as you double tapped your phone screen, seeing if any notifications were there to greet you.

Nothing.

Your heart raced with worry, and it was difficult to not show it around Aemond, now that the both of you were attached at the hip. Every quiet moment, Aemond would try and squeeze in some kind of gesture before inevitably his family would walk in. But as the days went on, instead of biting his lip, putting distance between you and his cheeks blossoming being seen romantically with you, he lingered, making it clear to whoever chose to disturb either of you that he didn’t care if they saw.

He was slowly beginning to care less about that, focussing said care on something else.

As proven by your time together on the tour, Aemond was insatiable.

You honestly don’t know how his dick hasn’t fallen off yet, or that he’s not on some kind of blood pressure medication, by the way he enjoys fucking you into oblivion any spare, quiet moment he gets. Not that it’s something to necessarily complain about. But the more time passed, the more your nerves began to spike, wanting to desperately have him define what was going on here.

Helaena seemed to give the impression this was strange behaviour for him. With the exception of the person Hel so lovingly called ‘that fucking dinosaur’, Aemond’s conquests had been just that. Casual. No strings attached. Sometimes not even necessarily because it had to be, but because he’d shut it down before it went any further.

You didn’t ask Aemond about that.

Even Alicent had mentioned as such, that she’d never seen her son so happy and content.

So why was there this sicky feeling in your stomach?

It was still so early in the morning that it was dark, the faintest of dark blue in the sky to remind you that the sun was just about to come up. And here you were, not in bed, not snuggled in bed sheets. But skates on, all limbered up and ready to practise.

In lieu of Aemond, you shoved your headphones in and leant against the ledge on your forearms, idly hovering on the ice, scrolling through the various news articles.

Martells: Trouble in Paradise? Qoren in trouble after leaving Sunspear Strip Club with blonde stranger Aemond Targaryen and his muse. He fell first but she fell harder, our source says. Otto Hightower seen giving flowers to Floris Baratheon as she is discharged from hospital

The last one made your nose crinkle.

Course he was seen doing it.

You almost jumped out of your skin and dropped your phone in your hands as a firm, tall body bumped into you from behind, genuinely winding you as your form became sandwiched between it and the ledge.

"Fucking-" you pull out your earphones and throw a look over your shoulder. Knowing exactly who it is.

Aemond smiles apologetically, but not really that sorry, and snakes his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder, looking all innocent. But what isn’t so innocent is the way he’s so unabashedly pressed up against you.

You raise an eyebrow, "You done sneaking about?"

He huffs a laugh, the air blowing on your neck as you pretend to scroll on your phone to ignore him, “Was hardly ‘sneaking about’, you’re just going deaf”

He reaches over and scrolls back up, back at the news article you’d ignored a second earlier.

Aemond grins, “Pfft, Aemond Targaryen seen bringing his lover home to meet his family” he recites from the article's title, “do you think they have any idea what actually goes on, hm?”

You roll your eyes partly as his hands drop to your hips, squeezing gently, managing at the same time to grind his hips against your backside. You can’t really ignore the heat that’s beginning to gather in your belly when he does that.

You smirk at him over your shoulder, “Shouldn’t we be practising?”

His hands still make their way over every curve he can find. His mind miles away from said practice.

“Hm. I thought we could practise something else”

You catch his wrist, cheeks bright red as he tries to slip his fingers past the waistband of your leggings, “Aemond!” you whisper-shout, “there’s security cameras!”

“They don’t work” he muses, pressing a few open-mouthed kisses to your neck as he turns his head into you, wilfully ignorant of how embarrassed this is making you, “lucky for us”

His hand slips completely beneath the leggings, expertly sliding between your legs to swipe two digits along your folds. A quiet breathy mewl slips past your lips, your backside pressing softly into his obvious hardness, knowing full well he’ll likely punish you in his own way for teasing him.

“See, now you’re all wet for me” he whispers in your ear, teasing his fingers past your folds just barely, prodding at your slick entrance, “I’ve got myself a needy little slut, haven’t I?”

“Aemond, please -”

You’re not entirely sure how he manages to do it. How you instantly turn to mush when he touches you. When he speaks to you.

You can scarcely believe you ever really hated him.

Sometimes, you wonder if it ever was truly hate.

For either of you, it couldn’t have been.

You feel the way Aemond hums deep in his chest, “But I’m having so much fun teasing you, baby” he coos quietly, pressing the pads of his fingers in tight, soft circles on your clit, spreading what slick had gathered over it. The motion has a stuttered breath slipping past your lips, your hips sinking on him, searching for more contact.

You’re more annoyed than anything that he’s having such a good time watching you squirm, and embarrassment blooms hot at your cheeks.

“Turn around”

Your eyes snap open. His voice is so different, and how easily he’s able to flit from soft, teasing to harsh and domineering always manages to make your knees feel weak.

He pulls his hand free, not even waiting for you to do as he says before he spins you around, shoving your lower back hard against the ledge and kicking your legs apart with one of his. His eye is focussed entirely on the task at hand, jaw tight and his expression completely flat. He looks almost angry, but you know he’s just impatient.

You swallow thickly as he rolls the leggings over your hips, taking the underwear with it so it hangs around your upper thighs. He’s so rough with you that even now, before he’s done anything, that his fingers leave little red imprints where he’s been.

“I’ve been wanting to taste your pussy for days, princess” he muses, slipping to his knees, heedless of the ice leaking freezing water onto his sweatpants, “we’ve not had a spare moment, have we?”

You almost outright sob in want when he presses his face to your core, inhaling your scent deeply like he’s not been between them every day since you arrived back at his home.

“ - fuck - princess -”

You press your lips together to stifle a moan when you feel his tongue part your folds, licking a long stripe over your entrance, a low moan vibrating through your core. Your grip, white-knuckled on the ledge, tightens. As does his on the fleshy skin of your thighs, keeping them wide apart for him to feast on your cunt.

You’re not sure who is really enjoying this more, but based on the sounds Aemond is making while he drags his tongue from your entrance to your clit, lighting sucking on the sensitive bud and moaning while he does it, it would seem he is.

Airiness floods your head and that same pressure is beginning to tighten up in your gut when he grazes his teeth softly against your clit, redoubling his efforts and diving down to fuck you with his tongue, caressing the top of your slick walls with it. He groans as you reach one hand down and tighten it in his hair, ruining the bun he’d had it in. Aemond takes it in his stride, shuffling closer to you and nuzzling his nose against your core, providing pleasure in both ways with the way his sharp nose keeps butting against your bundle of nerves.

Tugging slightly on his follicles, the coil in your belly winds tighter, and you feel your body sinking repeatedly onto him, moving your hips in micro-movements to increase the contact.

“Fuck - Aemond -”

He smirks against you, giving one fat stripe over your folds before breaking away briefly, “You gonna cum for me, princess?” he asks quietly, before moving back in to pleasuring you.

You’re only able to get out hard pants before finding the energy to reply, “Yes, yes…” you chant, your hips finding him over and over, chasing that high.

Aemond pulls away, moving to stand quickly and crashing his lips to yours, his tongue moving against yours and allowing you to share in the heady, exciting taste of your arousal. You moan softly into his mouth, fisting his shirt to pull him closer, putting all of your disappointment at being denied your peak into kissing him back, nipping at his bottom lip harshly as he pulls away.

Instead of looking annoyed at how clearly annoyed you are, he simply smirks, his tongue darting out to clear his lips of any arousal or saliva, soothing where you’d bit him.

“Patience, princess”

He spins you around again before you have a chance to bark back, pushing you over the ledge with a hand flat on your back. Your skates bang against the side and you nearly lose your balance, before Aemond presses his legs against you to keep you stable.

“What the fu-ow!”

Heat blooms on your ass when Aemond slaps it, soothing it with his palm afterwards. It aches there but also between your legs, where more arousal has gathered, desperately needing friction. Or just something.

Aemond huffs a laugh, managing to pull down his sweatpants just enough to sheath himself deep inside you in one smooth motion. The sudden intrusion has your walls stretching to accommodate his size, the slight prickle of pain stoking the fire that had been neglected in your belly. You gasp, grappling forward as he bottoms out and begins immediately pistoning into you, spearing you apart on his cock like it’s the last thing he’ll do.

“ - fffuck, baby - so fucking tight-”  he breathes between thrusts, his hips smacking harshly against yours, “ - so fucking wet for me, always so wet for me, aren’t you-”

You can only manage staggered moans in reply, your body constantly hurtled forward by the brutal rhythm of his cock driving into your heat over and over. You hope to any god out there that he doesn't actually want a proper reply. You’re not sure if you’re even capable of that right now.

“I like fucking you in your skates, with all your clothes on -” he breathes hot against your ear, leaning over and changing the angle, so he hits impossibly deeper, “-just my dirty, little cockslut, aren’t you-”

“-Aemond, please-”

“What” he replies harshly, increasing the intensity of his thrusts. He almost seems frustrated with how erratically his hips push against your backside, with the sounds to match, “gods, you’re so fucking needy for me - just like to be properly fucked, don’t you, princess -”

Your skates drift across the ice with every movement, breasts pressing near-painfully into the ledge. Being fully clothed like this, while you’re meant to be working, feels so dirty, so erotic, that it fans the flames inside you, pushing an all-consuming orgasm through your core, numbing into your limbs, with a wild cry of his name.

“That’s it, good girl - love it when you cum for me, fuck, love being inside you - lov-” he babbles incoherently, before his own voice strains, your core squeezing him so tightly that he spills deep inside you, filling you with his warmth.

You feel his heaved breaths at your back, trying desperately to suck the air back into his lungs.

He stays nestled inside you for some time, only moving away and pulling out after a long moment. You whine softly at the loss of him, hearing the fumbling of him pulling his sweatpants back up. You do the same, covering yourself on shaky legs, feeling the thrum of your own heartbeat through your core.

He’s quiet.

“Aemond?-”

Before you can really ask him what’s wrong, his arms wrap around you from behind. It’s a far cry from the way he was holding/fucking you earlier. It’s soft and tender, like one wrong move and he thinks you’ll break in half. He holds you close, your back pressed against his chest, where you can feel the steady beat of his heart, calming down.

His hands clasp at your front, his chin resting at the crown of your head.

“You okay?” you ask, covering his hands with yours, soothing his hand with your thumb. The action makes your stomach roll, an unfamiliar feeling being stoked within.

You feel him nod.

“Yeah, yeah…fine” he says, barely above a whisper.

Even though he’s not convincing anyone, you don’t prod or pry for more information. You know him well enough that he’d appreciate just your understanding and silence. So that’s exactly what you do.

You just stand, in a comfortable silence, pressed tightly against each other.

Eventually, he begrudgingly did start practising the finals routine with you. And though both of you were pumping hot in your blood with lust after the quickie, there was always, always something unsaid. You could tell there was something Aemond wanted to say, but didn’t have the courage to form the words.

The last time either of you were at the ice rink at his home, the shared touches were electric, almost painful, and there was then an underlying hostility.

But now.

It felt completely different.

And you didn’t know what to do.

The press were onto you. Both of you, like hounds. Like they could smell something was going on. They’d even started constantly hanging around outside the security gates, waiting for someone to come out, or to catch a glimpse of the supposed couple.

Sat on the bench, unlacing your skates, you look up at Aemond as he pulls on his shoes.

“Just gonna freshen up before lunch, see you inside?” he asks, pulling on his jacket in preparation of being rained on.

You can hear the rattling of the incessant raindrops on the metal roof of the ice rink.

You spare him a smile and nod, “Course”

You don’t know why it surprises you, but he bends down, one hand tugging your face up to his to press a tender, almost loving kiss, as quick as it is, to your lips. Like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

It has you frozen in your own body as you watch him walk away, slipping out the door, the rain pelting on the ground outside becoming briefly louder as it swings shut, dropping you into silence.

Your lips are warm from him, a deep point in your belly is also.

Just as you slip your shoes on, your phone buzzes in your pocket. Before any other feeling, a lingering sense of unease rolls through you.

Larys Strong has shared a link with you.

Swallowing thickly, you stare at the screen for what feels like hours. And then a follow up email, just with text.

Here is all I have.

With a shaky breath, you swipe his email away and click on the link, which takes you to a Google Drive. Anxiety twists in your chest, feeling very much like you are doing something you shouldn’t. But the not-knowing is driving you crazy, so the loading bar at the top of the screen somewhat aggravates you, impatience humming in your blood.

Two folders.

_Floris Baratheon Incident

And one with your name.

With shaky thumbs, you decide to click on Floris’ first.

Several screenshots of conversations, email exchanges, text messages, even a voice message.

Do something to her skates.

O.H

You immediately recognise the phone number as his.

Otto Hightower sabotaged Floris Baratheon.

Your breath is stuck in your throat, dread rising with the anxiety.

Fuckfuckfuck.

He had not only wanted Floris out. He was willing to physically harm her, pay someone else to do it, so that her contract would be broken.

The voice recording is largely muffled, making you press the speaker side of your phone right to your ear. But from the sounds of it, it’s Otto.

“I know it’s good to have a Baratheon on our side of the competition, but Floris is nowhere near good enough to launch Aemond into the Olympics. While she likes him, he doesn’t like her. We need some kind of…integrated relationship if we’re going to convince the judges. There’s nobody there on our side anymore, since Viserys died”

He goes on, the recorder muffled. Perhaps in someone’s pocket.

“I can’t break her contract without paying her. She needs to be gone, as soon as possible”

The tone of his voice. Talking about Floris like she’s not a person, makes your blood run cold.

And that’s all there is in that folder. Such a short conversation, like they were just talking about the weather, but really they were planning on how best to ruin a young girl’s life, career and hobby. All for the sake of not paying her because they didn’t like her chemistry with Aemond…

Which begs the question.

Why you?

You don’t really want to admit how sick it makes you feel to see how many things there are in the folder titled with your name. It feels…intrusive. Like people know secrets about you that you, or even Rhaenys, doesn't even know.

After all figure skating isn’t just a career, it’s what you love.

You don’t want them to ruin that for you.

You can feel your breath pick up, hot tears sitting behind your eyes, and the beginnings of a migraine slipping into your head. Low background.

Bad circumstances.

Is that really all you were? A fucking pity choice?

Not because you were just good at what you did?

Not just because they wanted your skills.

But because they wanted to raise someone they deemed lesser to their level, for sympathy votes.

Bile rises in your throat at that.

Everything had been meticulously planned. Every movement. Every placement.

Everything.

The magic of that first night with Aemond feels ruined.

You feel preyed upon. By Otto and whoever he was collaborating with to make this happen, as if they were right there listening against the door and taking turns looking through the keyhole.

And then Otto’s words almost a week prior…

 ‘It is just business. Aemond knows this’

Surely…he couldn’t have been in on this the whole time.

Right?

You grip your phone tightly, hearing the case crack in your grip.

There is…humiliation. Betrayal.

But also anger.

You don’t even register the hammering of rain against your face as you stride past the garden, clad only in the exercise clothes you had been in all morning. By the time you’ve slid the doors forcefully aside, your hair is half-soaked, your leggings as well, blood feeling like fire with the anger that courses through you.

You know he's here tonight.

He's always lurking about somewhere.

You push the doors to the library open, the oak banging against the doorframe with a rattle. Otto looks up from his desk with surprise, with an expression that immediately reminds you of the subtle, yet annoying way Aemond used to look at you, before his eyebrows lower and his lips curl upwards, as if amused.

"Caught out in the rain?" He asks, chuckling, completely ignoring the frown your face is set into.

Phone gripped tightly, you take your time walking in before you're at his desk, chucking the device haphazardly in front of him. The list of screenshots litter the screen.

"What the fuck do you call this?"

Otto takes one sweeping look at your phone, not really even reading any of them.

But somehow knowing full well what they are.

"Is there a problem?"

"Is there a prob-" you scoff, laughing incredulously.

If you don't laugh you'll cry.

"First of all, fucking sabotaging Floris' skates?" You throw the words at him, "she could be permanently injured! Her career could be-"

"She had no career" he interrupts, which is slowly driving you mad, "she could not take criticism. Thinks she's better than she actually is"

"Oh, and that's an excuse, is it? She broke her fucking ankle. She might never skate the same and you treat her like…well you treat her like a fucking commodity, like you do the rest of your family!"

"How I conduct business with my family is of no matter to you"

Your hands brace the desk, not backing down one bit.

"I am not your fucking family" you warn, "which brings me to that. Low birth? Common? Bad circumstances? Who the fuck do you think you are exactly!"

"I scouted you for your skills"

"And hoping that me and Aemond would fuck into the bargain. Improve his image, did it?"

"That was merely a bonus"

"Is this what you do to all the women in your life? Force them into the arms of someone else so you don't have to deal with them? So that you can climb higher without having any talents of your own?"

Otto's eyes narrow.

"You don't know a thin-"

"I know you forced your own daughter into the arms of a fucking judge, and she faced the repercussions.

I know you forced Helaena to skate with Aegon, even though she'd be happier doing Singles. But she's too nice for her own good to really hate you for it.

And I know, you forced me to work with Aemond, just hoping, just praying, I'd be stupid enough to throw myself at him. You must have been shaking in your fucking boots when he didn't like me at first"

Otto seems more than anything to be annoyed that you've interrupted him.

"And what do your grandsons get? Aegon fucking hates skating and Aemond-" you scoff, "-he was emotionally abused by a woman decades his senior and you forced him to talk to her"

Otto is quiet.

"Gods forbid Daeron ever chooses to compete professionally. He's the only one who doesn't hate you yet"

Otto stands quickly, brushing your phone back towards you.

"If you release those screenshots my lawyers will destroy you" he warns, "you'll never be signed again, and you'll certainly never make the championships again, I'll make sure of that"

Your mouth opens to bark back.

"And you'll never see Aemond again"

But that makes you freeze and go cold all over. And it might not be the rain sticking to your clothes.

"No contact. Nothing"

You swallow thickly, clenching your fists. Anxiety and fear rolling through you. Your heart drops into your stomach. And Otto wears a victorious grin, which only serves to make you want to vomit.

"You used me for fucking pity" you say, voice strained, trying desperately not to cry.

"And I made you a champion," he responds coolly.

Is that all he ever fucking thinks about?

Winning?

Even at the cost of his family hating him?

"I'm not entertaining this"

Otto chuckles, "You are bound by the terms of our contract. And I'm sure there's plenty of…other reasons why you'd want to stay anyway"

How could he weaponise Aemond at you like this…

You take several steady breaths.

"Fuck you. And fuck your contract"

"What the hell's going on?"

You swing around quickly, heart dropping at the sound of Aemond's voice. He stands against the doors, looking worriedly between the two of you, his eye wide and concerned. The ends of his hair are wet from the shower you suppose he's just taken, looking much better than you, as the rain drying on you makes your hair frizz up.

Wound tightly with both anger and betrayal, laughing is the only thing you find the effort to do, confusing both the men in the room.

"Yes, why don't you tell Aemond what you've just told me?" You smile, eyes filled with tears in Otto's direction, snatching your phone from the table just as he's about to do the same.

"It is no concern of yours, Aemond" Otto replies distantly.

"If it concerns her then it does concern me"

When Aemond says that, any warmth associated with the affection you have for him turns to dust. Just the sheer weight of the situation makes your body feel like lead, incapable of letting any light in.

"I can't fucking stay here, not with him" you shake your head, the situation entirely overwhelming, trying to just get as far away from Otto Hightower as possible.

"Hey, hey, what's wrong? Baby - please -" Aemond crowds you, intending to help, his hands on your arms to try and make you just talk to him. His features are set in worry. It's somehow endearing.

But with everything that's happened it just feels like too much, like the walls are closing in on you. Like one touch and you'll explode.

"Please, Aemond, I can't stay here after all he's -"

You don't even have the strength to finish the sentence before floods of tears pour down your cheeks, your throat tightening up.

How you even find the energy to swing the front door open is beyond you.

The last thing you see before walking away from the Targaryen House, is Aemond in the doorway, looking out at you walking through the rain. He wears a look of sadness and panic.

You only briefly hear the echo of Alicent berating someone deep within the house, her malicious, emotional screams bouncing off the walls. You see Helaena, joining Aemond's side, her face sullen. And Aegon, sat in an armchair, looking not at all surprised at the situation, with his hands clasped in his lap.

You can't pretend it doesn't hurt your heart to leave. But you simply cannot be in the same vicinity as Otto right now before doing something you regret.

Without Arryk or Criston's car, you're resigned to walk in the pouring rain to the security gate. Almost not minding the rain compared to what's going to happen.

The press, waiting outside with their raincoats on, all scramble to their feet. Camera flashes clicking loudly against your ears, crowding your space even further, uncaring of personal space. Microphones and voice recorders join them a moment later, accompanied by a waterfall of questions.

With Aemond, he could work the press easily, paving a path wherever he went by virtue of his position in the industry. But now, by yourself, it pains your chest like a stab straight to the heart, the notion that now, as you fight off the press to pave your own escape, tears rolling down your face, that you are very much alone.

"The number you have called is currently unavailable. Please try again later"

You choke on your own tears and breath. Four times you've called El, to ask if it's okay to come back to the flat you used to share.

Your mind was so blurry, and messy, you'd forgotten she was on holiday with her family. The annual Baratheon get-together. And perfect weather for it too.

For a brief moment, you're almost mad she's not here.

But know that it's just because how utterly lonely you feel, and she'd always been there before to offer a shoulder to cry on. An instant ramen to make. A shitty movie to put on. All to make you feel better.

In the rain, everything looks different, but especially through the misty gaze of the tears that glaze your eyes.

You bend down to slip the spare key from under the doormat, relieved it's still there. She'd probably forgotten about it anyway. It takes a few genuine tries with your rain-slick hands to get the key into the door, but you manage.

Only to be hit immediately with the nostalgic smell of your apartment.

It'd been so long.

It makes you want to cry even harder. It feels warm. Not at all the cavernous, marble, almost clinical feel of the Targaryen House. But cosy, comforting, like a big warm hug, despite nobody being in.

It smells like those Fresh Cotton candles she loves, the basic bitch.

You laugh sadly at that.

You miss her.

The normality. Her late night voice memos. You miss all of it, before everything became so complicated.

Even though you have the whole flat at your disposal, you can't find the energy to do anything useful like cook or shower.

So with rain soaked clothes, sticking uncomfortably to your skin, you just curl up on the sofa, the TV turned down low, just as a means of filling the silence. You almost don't want to go into your room. Seeing it all empty will just upset you even more.

You ignore the frequent buzz of your phone on the sofa, pulling the blanket up to your chin, just entirely numb.

The rain taps incessantly on the window, the way it hits the concrete with such velocity has a faint mist rising from the streets. It's all so grey outside, with only the hum of passing cars and their warm headlights to fill the colourless space as the sun, hidden behind endless clouds, gives way for darkness.

You sigh, feeling your throat tickle with the onset of a cold, probably from walking home in the torrential downpour.

It's so quiet you barely hear it. And the third time it happens you furrow your brows and look over at the door.

Perhaps El wasn't able to go after all?

You wipe your face, striding over the fallen blanket piled on the floor, with no energy to pick it up, and shuffle to the door, undoing all three locks that you and El had installed after an attempted break-in.

The uncomfortable humid waft of the outside is the first thing that hits you, as well as a spray of hot rain.

The second is cold.

Cold all over.

Aemond stands, or rather slumps against the doorframe, one hand rested flat against it and completely out of breath, as if he’d been rushing.

Aemond Targaryen, who hates going out in the rain, hates getting his hair wet, hates walking anywhere that isn’t necessary, prefers to take Arryk’s care even a few minutes down the road and absolutely hates not looking his best, stands there completely drenched, just entirely quiet. Rain has soaked through his clothes, sticking to every square inch of his body.

Like him, the air is taken out of your lungs as well. Frozen in place, and unable to utter a single thing as your throat closes up once again.

Aemond can’t seem to say anything either, he just looks down at you, his expression not unreadable, but so unlike him that you’re not sure if you’ve ever seen it.

Except you absolutely have.

That night Otto forced him to speak to Alys Rivers, he wore an expression of panic.

Shoulders rolled forward to appear smaller.

Eyebrows furrowed in worry, his good eye downcast and sullen.

The expression of being entirely lost.

He’s still being pelted with rain when you step forward, dissolving entirely into silent tears, your arms holding his torso so tightly, you’re surprised he reciprocates.

Everything else fizzles out. And you hate how cringy it sounds in your head, but all there is is just you two, and this moment, his arms, wrapped snugly around you, almost entirely encompassing your form. Such tenderness from him he has only afforded you a handful of times.

But this. This is something else. Not just tenderness.

But neither of you dare to approach that.

It just feels too good to be around him, to have him like this. You don’t want to think about anything else.

Aemond feels how you tremble, trying to hold in the sobs, so much that it hurts in your chest.

“Oh, Princess…” he soothes, one hand moving up to stroke the back of your head, your face firmly planted against his neck.

You wonder, in the hours since you stormed out, what he now knows.

So you don’t open the floodgates just yet.

Giving one last squeeze, you pull away, wiping the rain and tears off your face with the back of your hand and gesture inside.

“You want to come in?..”

He almost looks shocked you’ve asked, but understanding that both of you need to talk.

As if by habit, Aemond toes off his shoes before he shuts the front door behind him, following you into the warm, cosiness of your shared apartment with El.

Instinctively, you load the kettle with water and click it on, a few silent seconds passing before it begins to hiss with life.

“Where is she?” he asks, standing awkwardly in the middle of the room, looking around at all the little nick-nacks on various shelves. Not cluttered, but busy enough to feel like a home.

Your turn, having been staring at the kettle, “What?”

He shoves his hands in his pockets, the wet fabric dragging across his skin, “Your flatmate. El, right?”

How did he remember that?

“O-oh, um…she’s away with her dad” you reply, swallowing thickly with nerves and turning back to pour a mug of tea for yourself and a coffee for Aemond.

You don’t see it, but there’s a subtle smile on his face as he watches you, for not having to ask him how he likes it.

“Thanks” he says softly, as you slide a mug over the counter in his direction.

Seeing Aemond in this kind of environment is nothing short of weird.

Having seen him in environments professionally, such as ice rinks and competitions, as well as being inside his home, surrounded by space and expensive items, gives you an impression of him akin to a celebrity, someone out of reach.

But here, in the tiny apartment, lit with brown and amber hues, where the living room and the kitchen are quite literally the same room, he looks so comically tall and broad, he almost swallows every bit of the room he’s in.

But it’s nice, seeing him in a different light.

He seems different.

He leans on the arm of the sofa, facing you in the kitchen, taking a scalding sip of his coffee, which is nowhere near drinkable, and then leaning over to pop it on a coaster on the coffee table.

It’s hard to contain the smile that drifts onto your face. At least he’s kept his manners.

And then, Aemond clasps his hands, sighs and does that thing where he tries to look small again.

“Just after you left, Alys came to the house”

Just like that, your heart is frozen again. But instead of dread, there’s anger.

But not at him.

“Why?” you ask, warming your hands with the mug.

Aemond shrugs, not meeting your gaze, “Probably to cash in on whatever petty shit she can get her grubby hands on”

You’re glad he speaks about her with some level of aggression. She deserves more than that.

"She probably saw the articles. Pictures of you leaving. Thought she might be able to worm her way back in somehow now that Otto is on his ass" he adds.

Fuck. They work fast.

Maybe it's for the best you didn't check your phone. It's probably Rhaenys, wondering what the fuck is going on.

Brief embarrassment runs sharply through you.

He takes a breath, “Otto told us everything”

You raise an eyebrow, “us?”

He nods, “All of us. Mum. Aeg, Hel”

You blink, your throat feeling sore from not letting the emotion out, keeping it bottled inside until you have the answers you want.

The answers you need.

“Did you know?” you ask, voice wavering. Feeling awful for even suggesting it.

Aemond looks up at that, his mismatched blue eyes reflecting the warm amber light of the room.

“I knew…that he was scouting, and had his eye on you to replace Floris” he answers slowly, watching your face, careful about his words, “but, honestly, that’s it, baby, I promise”

The term of endearment has your tummy doing a tiny backflip.

You let that absorb for a moment. Grateful that Aemond is affording you the silence for it.

Clearing your throat, “But you didn’t know why?”

He shakes his head once.

“I hate to ask it, it’s just becau-”

“Because I said all that shit about, class and…who you were, I know” he interrupts, but with a voice that softens, “and I understand why you’d assume that I knew”

He stands, taking short, careful steps towards you, his fingers playing with each other, “But I promise, I didn’t know…any of that shit. I admit, I could have done more, and I could have been better to you from the beginning, and protected you from all this.

And I’m sorry for that”

You look up at him, breath hitching for a moment having not realised how close he is.

“And I will always be sorry for it” he adds, discreetly reaching for your hands.

His gaze is downcast, looking at your hands in his.

“There’s so much I need to tell you”

You realise that this isn’t just going to naturally occur.

That he is asking for you to listen to him. That for so long, nobody bothered to ask how he was, or how he was dealing with everything. The abuse from Alys. The chronic pain.

Nobody had ever really asked him.

And after everything, how could you not?

He at least deserved to get it all off his chest.

“Let’s sit down, okay?”

You sit on the sofa, nibbling on your thumbnail as Aemond speaks, surprisingly animated, and without hardly taking a breath. Only doing so every now and then to sip the rapidly cooling coffee.

He starts essentially from the beginning. The situation with this father. The absentee. Who couldn’t give a shit about the four children he had with Alicent if he tried. Often he forgot their names and pretended sometimes, as if they didn’t exist. Eventually, Alicent was not exempt from this behaviour.

You learn that this ‘friend’ Alicent was referring to so lovingly when you returned from the semi-finals, was in fact Aemond’s older half-sister, Rhaenyra. He explains as much as he can from his own perspective, tagging it all off with ‘well, how would you feel if your best mate started getting it off with your dad?’.

Point taken.

Rhaenyra never went professional. She moved abroad, remarried, had more children.

But not before kicking the wasp’s nest, as Aemond put it.

You, of course, know of Jace, being friendly with him and seeing him every now and then, practically in the same line of work. But even less about his younger brother, Luke, since he was several years younger and still unsure about the industry.

After all, once you're in, you're in.

But you didn’t realise that Aemond was related to them in some capacity.

And that when they were all children, having grown up together, after a largely innocent duel using fake, wooden swords, Luke, no more than a child who didn’t know any better, bought an actual knife. A steak knife, no less. One that Aemond vividly remembers, as the serrated blade tore through his skin after a scuffle.

Of course, Aemond knew it was accidental, but that wasn’t exactly the first thought running through his mind at the age of 10.

Rhaenyra paid the medical bills and swiftly left the country on the first flight out, but not before some choice words were had between her and Alicent first.

It sounds spectacularly messy.

And Aemond had been stuck in the middle of all of it. Having lost sight in his left eye, a scar lining his face, spent weeks in hospital without his own father there and a new chronic condition as a result.

No wonder he’d felt so alone.

Like any of the siblings, figure skating was impressed on them from an early age. And Otto, as per Aemond’s explanation, had jumped at the opportunity when Aemond was doing well despite not having sight in one eye. So much so, that he’d spent a large part of his formative years just competing. Not doing things that a normal teenager would do.

Having to grow up far too quickly.

He’d started wringing his hands at this point in the story. The tell-tale rolling of his shoulders forward and his leg bouncing with nerves.

“I regret the day I arrived in Harrenhal. Shit ice rink anyway”

Enter. Alys Rivers.

By his description, she’d clocked him the moment she saw him. Even now, he says, he does a double take whenever he sees a woman with long black hair, his heart going fast.

He doesn’t go too in-depth. Only that she made him feel validated at first, said all the right things.

Did all the right things as well.

But he wasn’t ashamed to admit that. He was more ashamed at how much he had bought into it all those years ago. How she’d attempted to make herself like a barrier between him and his family, especially Alicent, and for a long while, it had worked. He hadn’t stepped into the Targaryen house for months, spending every waking moment with Alys and only Alys any moment he could get.

What shocked you the most, was how it managed to last even six months.

He had said that she’d been his first sexual partner, and that she used that against him multiple times but he never really saw it until afterwards. Said that ‘she was the only one who was going to love him. Because she loved him unconditionally, despite his deformity’.

That made you feel ill.

How could she say something like that?

It had all ended quite forcefully. Otto had discovered that Alys had managed to get a hold of Aemond’s bank details, taking little bits and pieces from the shared company account, before getting too ahead of herself, and withdrawing large chunks at a time. Eventually exposing her long-standing behaviour.

For a while, Aemond tried to justify it. Saying they were gifts.

It was only when he returned home and Alicent broke down crying, that he said he’d finally sobered up, after months of being forcefully drunk on Alys Rivers.

Otto was less sympathetic. Urging him that ‘as a man, it is your responsibility to deal with this on your own’.

“He knew the pregnancy thing was bullshit…” Aemond carried on, the blanket somehow ending up on his lap, shared between you, “...but she was trying anything and everything to shake the allegations that she was ever stealing from us, from me, rather”

He sighs.

“She just wanted to get anything she could out of me” he adds, his voice wavering, “and she would’ve done…’til there wasn’t any of me left”

You shake your head, “Otto was cruel making you talk to her”

Aemond swallows visibly, moving his shoulders at the memory.

“I said I’d cut off ties with Otto as soon as I can”

Your eyebrows raise, the empty mug almost falling out of your lap.

“What?” you half-shout, “Aemond, I-I don’t want you to just do this because of-”

“It’s not just that, it’s fucking - it’s everything he’s done to us” he adds, his gaze meeting yours, as if to emphasise, to make real everything he is saying, “-everything he’s done to me. Aeg. Even Mum…”

You can tell by the way he trails off, that it’s a sore subject. Perhaps one broached many times, but never resolved.

He fucking loves his mother so much. Empathises with her pain like he shares in it. Sometimes his long, sad expression, reminds you of how she often looks.

“I’ve wanted to for a long time” he mutters, “I fucking hated you for it then, but you were right, I never liked it. I just did it because I thought it would…achieve something, I don’t know”

You know what he means but daren’t not say it.

He thought that pursuing it professionally would buy his love. Both his father, then Otto.

One he’s not had from any male figure in his life.

You swallow over the lump in your throat. It must be so much weight on him. And it shows, in how light he looks even now, telling you the very bare minimum.

“What he did to you was the last straw…”

Your eyes flit up, to meet him. That same rolling feeling spreads over your tummy, like opening the curtains on a sunny, summer morning and bathing yourself in light.

His look right now is both intense and soft at the same time. Willing you to believe him in case there’s any indication that you don’t.

“...Mum was in floods of tears when she found out. Said you were good and kind. That you never judged us. Never judged her” he adds, words breaking with emotion in between.

You huff, playing with your fingers "high praise then" you joke.

But he smiles despite it, “...she loves you, you know”

That cracks a smile from you. The first one in hours. Your cheeks burn from the tears and rain on it, and yet it feels nice. You watch with barely-concealed, softened joy as Aemond cracks his own smile, one side of his lips turned up just ever so slightly, in his classic Aemond-esque sort of way.

You wouldn’t trade that smile for the world.

“I do too”

Air is sucked from your chest, mouth entirely dry, as the sheer heft of what he’s said begins to sink in.

Did he really just say that?

Am I in a fever dream?

He nods, "I think I have for a while"

You want to speak, to hug, to kiss him, but nothing will come out. Your body won’t move in accordance with your brain, and your hands get pins and needles all of a sudden. Without you realising, warmth seems to have made its way down your face, dripping off your jaw.

All the while, Aemond just sits there, watching your reaction.

Fuck.

You love him too.

And before you even know it, in place of words, your lips are pressed desperately against each other, hands clamouring for any bit of clothing or skin you can find. Aemond groans as you tilt your head, deepening the kiss and allowing tongues and teeth to wrestle against each other. His hands cup your ass as he tugs you over his lap, breathing heavily into your mouth with each break for air.

Instinctually, your hips grind on him, feeling him harden instantly beneath the damp sweatpants, your hand reaching down to stroke his length to full mast with your palm.

His hands are everywhere. Thighs, waist, breasts, tangled in your hair. While his lips map out your entire body where he can from this angle, leaving marks with his teeth over the column of your neck, still rippled to attention from goosebumps. You squeeze around him with your thighs, directing all your want into just that movement, to tell him how much you need him.

“Bedroom” he breathes, “where?”

You answer as your hands dip beneath his shirt, smoothing over his tacky skin, feeling his muscles contract.

“Down the hall, first right, but there’s no bed sheet-” you gasp as he lifts you, pressing needy, open kisses to your swollen lips.

“I don’t need fucking bed sheets for what I’m about to do to you”

Aside from when he deposited you on the bed, the mattress squeaking comically, making you look at each other and giggle like two little love-sick teenagers, Aemond is entirely soft, tender, taking his time like this is the last moment he’ll ever get to properly be with you.

Even the act of undressing is painfully slow and sensual, despite the clear hunger in both of your gazes. Everything he does now, has your stomach fluttering pleasantly. Irreversibly.

And it’s something you’ll never get sick of.

He was never one for making too much noise in bed. But here, as his cock pistons into your desperate heat over and over, your former bedroom alight and hot with sex, Aemond whimpers, whines and groans, depending on what’s going on, right against the crook of your neck. One hand on your throat, his fingers encircling it and tightening the closer he gets to the height of his bliss, pleasantly robbing your brain of just the right amount of air to feel like you’re floating.

Your orgasm builds embarrassingly fast, from everything, the heat of the moment, him.

And doing this knowing he really wants to.

Nearing the peak of your pleasure, his thumb snakes between you and rubs your clit in tight, careful circles, hurtling you towards the precipice. All while his pelvis smacks with the sound of your arousal against yours, with your legs pulled tightly around him, and his grip not letting go.

With each thrust of his cock into you, he kisses your neck, and utters.

“I love you”

Then your jaw.

“I love you”

And finally your lips, just as your pussy tightens around him.

“ - fuck - I love you -”

He pulls his head up to look down at you just in time to watch as you fall apart, white-hot pleasure running like fire in your veins as your pussy flutters around his cock, taking him over the edge with you. His hooded, lusty gaze focussed entirely on you, until his brows furrow himself, lips hanging apart only slightly, as he finishes deep inside you.

The only sound is hurried breaths, and every now and then the mattress squeaking as a result of only the tiniest of movements.

Aemond huffs, leaning up on his elbows, the chain slipping out beneath his shirt and dangling in your face, the chill of the metal against your chest making you shudder. His hair, already having been ruined by the rain, hangs in lazy wavy strands around his face.

An exhausted breathy laugh falls out his mouth, his warm hand making its way back up to your face, sighing as he sees you lean your cheek into it.

He looks so perfect like this, is the first thing that comes to mind.

But the words that come pouring out your mouth are completely and entirely natural.

Really, the point of no return.

The only moment Aemond Targaryen remembers of his life before loving you, is when you say so clearly, with such devotion, adoration and care.

“I love you too”

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

Aemond Taglist (1): @asp3nxx | @avidreader73 | @bellaisasleep | @boofy1998 | @cathy1514

[phthalomushroom]

The Family (5)

last next

pairings: modern!mafia!aemondxreader

summary: You had left Kings Landing and the Targaryen family four years ago. Now back and living with your old roommate you realize that the life you had thought you escaped had seemingly been waiting for you. But will the family really let you go? Will the people you left behind forgive you? Can you forget the past and look to the future?

warnings: language, mentions of trauma, stalking, mention of injury

word count: 1.8K

note: I am so sorry for the late post, the words were just not wording and I needed more time to figure out what I wanted to be said. But I finished this chapter and I hope you all enjoy!

Baela and you had split up only a couple of hours ago. She had gotten a call and had needed to leave right away. You had asked what was going on but she assured you everything was fine before leaving.

You still had some errands to do, which lead you across the city to the East side. By the time you finished it had gotten pretty late. Most of the stores were closed and the taxi services were no longer in commission. You looked at your phone to see when the next train was, seeing that you needed to make it fifteen blocks in order to catch the last train for the red line. You began walking, taking in the cool evening air when you had an odd, gut feeling that something wasn’t right.

The streets were a little too quiet, which was never the case during this time. Usually there would be groups of people out walking, people on their balconies laughing but tonight there was just…quiet. You took a look over your shoulder to try and ease your thoughts only to see the man Daemon had mentioned earlier following you.

You looked forward, picking up the pace as you turned the corner. You thought that maybe it was a coincidence but that would be impossible. There were no coincidences in this city, you of all people should know that. 

You were made keenly aware that you were nowhere near your apartment nor the train station and there was no way you were going to end up in a subway possibly cornered. You were up on the East side, a side that you didn’t venture much on your own, meaning you were very unfamiliar with it. This was supposed to be a safe part of the city since the rich and high class lived here, there  was no way something would happen to you.

Clearly not, as the footsteps behind you got louder, making you instinctually speed up. 

This shouldn’t be happening, Daemon should have intervened by now. Unless that whole conversation was just to get under your skin, to throw you off. 

What a prick. 

However as much as Daemon was a prick you weren’t willing to find out if he was a liar.

You had grabbed your mace out of your bag, your body going into autopilot as your senses tried to assess how close this man was getting to you. You took a turn ending up on a familiar cobblestone street and realized exactly where you could go. You turned down another corner, heading for the brownstone at the end of the street. 

You took the stairs two at a time, repeatedly knocking on the door quickly as you watched from the corner of your eye as the man continued to approach. 

The heavy wooden door opened to reveal a shirtless and very confused Aemond Targaryen. 

“What-”

You wrapped your arms around him, pushing your way inside as you pushed him up against the wall and out of view of the street, kicking the door shut. You peaked through the side window, moving the curtain to see the man that was following you get picked up by a black Audi before speeding away. 

“Happy to see you too.”

You looked up to see Aemond smirking at you. You quickly pulled away, taking a couple steps back as you shoved your mace back in your bag. “Your guard dog take the night off?”

Aemond’s eyebrows furrowed, noting what was just in your hand. “Huh?”

“Someone was following me. I thought Daemon was on protection detail.”

His face twisted before he grabbed your hand, taking you up the stairs of the foyer and into the kitchen. He grabbed his phone off the kitchen island.

He started scrolling through contacts. “Help yourself to anything you want, I have to make a call.”

“I think I’ll just go-”

“Sit.”

You instinctively took a seat at the island, watching him walk around the corner to where his office was. You rolled your eyes at yourself, right back here and right back into your old ways. 

You set your shopping bags on the ground and put your coat over your chair heading over to the oven where something was simmering. It looked like Aemond had just finished making some mac n’ cheese.

He did say help yourself.

You grabbed a bowl from the shelf and supplied some golden crescents to your bowl. You had just sat down and taken a forkful to your mouth when Aemond came back in, with a shirt on, as he tied up his hair into a low bun.

He looked kinda pretty as a few of the shorter strands framed his face. 

He smirked, noting you had been staring. “Eating my food already.”

You blinked, looking away. “You said help yourself.”

“Indeed I did.” He grabbed a bowl, joining you across the island.

It was silent for a while, both of you eating your portions. It felt… normal. Like old times, a chill went down your spine at that. You needed to change that.

“Everything okay?”

Aemond’s face darkened. “It will be.”

“Is Daemon-”

“He’s being taken care of by the family doctor.”

You nodded. “The same one who stitched me up?”

His eyes met yours before quickly looking at the counter, he cleared his throat. “Yeah.”

You put your fork down, sitting back in your chair crossing your arms. “I’m going to need an explanation.”

He mirrored your stance, leaning back against the counter. “I don’t think that's a good idea.”

You started getting up. “Then I’m leaving.”

“No.” He reached over the counter to grab your hand. 

You looked up at him. “You were a real asshole the last time we spoke, you know that right?”

He let out a sigh, letting your hand go. “I know. I… I didn’t expect to see you and I was drunk.”

“You never acted like that while you were drunk before.”

“That’s because I dated you.”

You felt your face heat up at that. “Maybe you shouldn’t make it a habit. You're a bit of a mean drunk.”

He let out a small chuckle. “I wasn’t that bad.”

“You were rude.”

“I was flirting.”

“You’re engaged.”

He frowned. “I know.”

“We’re going to have to talk about it. At least to make peace.”

His eyes softened. “I-I can’t.”

You moved to grab your stuff as you made your way to the door. More secrets, more difficulties. You needed the whole truth or nothing and you were beginning to grow tired of being the only one who wanted to have a peaceful life. 

“It’s the Lannisters.”

Your feet stopped moving, you almost dropped your things. You slowly turned towards him. “You said they were gone.”

“They were but- but things got complicated. I am going to take care of it.”

“What happened, Aemond?”

“You came back, you weren’t supposed to come back and then everything got more complicated and then Alys-”

“Slow down.” You couldn’t make sense of anything he was trying to say.

He was breathing quickly and his words were beginning to jumble to the point where understanding him was impossible. Tears looked like they were ready to spill from his eyes. You dropped your stuff, walking over to him and taking his face in your hands. 

You forced him to look at you. “Breathe, Aemond.”

You moved your hands down so they were rubbing up and down his arms. “You need to breathe.”

He leaned forward, putting his forehead against yours, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. 

Then another. 

You closed your eyes, leaning into him and the familiar sage scent that he got from using his body wash. Despite the years, despite the pain, despite everything you still missed him. He was your everything when you were a teen, he was the only family you had at one point and now, being this close to him, you wondered how you had gone so long without him.

But he was engaged, and as much as you wanted to be selfish you just couldn’t do it. 

You pulled away, taking a step back from him. “The Lannisters are back?”

He seemed disappointed. 

He nodded, rubbing his face. “They’ve been back for a couple months now.”

“You should have told me.”

He shook his head. “No, I don’t want you involved in this again.”

“Aemond I am involved in this, I mean I was being followed home. Daemon got hurt. It’s like five years ago all over again.”

“No it's not.” He came towards you taking your hands and rubbing his thumb in a circle on the back of your hand. “I’m not going to let that night happen again. I’m not gonna lose you, do you understand me?”

He was looking intensely into your eyes, then his gaze moved to your lips. You hadn’t realized he had gotten so close.

“Aemond.” You breathed. Your head began to spin as if you were drunk, your thoughts going quiet as your body started to move closer to his as if you were magnets destined to meet again. 

“I’ve missed you so much.” He leaned down, his breath fanning your face.

“Aemond.” The noise you made was a mixture of a whimper and a plea as Aemond leaned closer meeting your lips with his.

He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer as his tongue invaded your mouth. You snaked your hands up into his hair, pulling the strands from the bun he wore. He moaned, pulling you impossibly closer as he nipped your lower lip. You felt like you were on fire, as your teeth clashed, the kiss becoming more hungry. 

More desperate. 

Suddenly his phone rang, causing the two of you to jump apart, finally being brought back to reality. He took his phone out of his back pocket, glancing at the caller ID.

“I have to take this.” 

You nodded.

“You aren’t leaving tonight,” he said. “You can stay in my room, I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“Don’t you still have a guest room?”

His face turned red. “Not anymore.”

He turned, heading towards his office as he answered his phone, closing the door behind him.

You made your way upstairs, heading past where you remembered the guest room to be. Against your better judgment you peered inside to see the room that used to house a queen sized bed now be filled with boxes of all kinds of things. 

You crept inside, looking into one of the closer boxes. You knew you shouldn't be snooping but after everything that happened tonight you thought fuck it. 

You reached into one of the opened boxes pulling out a small onesie. One that was meant for a baby.

Your heart felt like it shattered.

Yeah, maybe you should have minded your business.

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[happilyhertale]

Deep affection – Modern Daemon Targaryen x fem!reader

Summary: You have decided to spend the Christmas holidays with Daemon's family. You were actually looking forward to spending a few days with Daemon. But you hadn't reckoned with the constant boredom. But Daemon knows how to counteract this.

Pairing: Modern Daemon Targaryen x fem!reader

Warnings: Smut; 18+; NSFW; Oral (m receiving)

Author’s note: English is my second language, please forgive me if I made any mistakes (:

Word count: 1.3 k

Other stories of mine

12 days of smuff

You throw a slender stick into the crisp winter air and your gaze gracefully follows its fleeting trajectory. In the blink of an eye, Caraxes, your faithful companion of the last few days, leaps forwards with unbridled enthusiasm, and a symphony of joyful barking accompanies each of his leaps. A gentle smile graces your face as you enjoy his exuberance and watch the merry dance he performs across the snowy canvas under the azure sky. Completely exuberant, he leaves his tracks in the untouched blanket of snow.

Amidst the serene spectacle, an unmistakable rhythm of footsteps interrupts the tranquil atmosphere of the winter landscape. You glance over your shoulder and see Daemon approaching. His face is adorned with an infectious grin that reflects the happiness emanating from the frolicking dog.

"There you are," he says softly, "I was afraid you'd run off," he adds.

You smile at him, "And leave Caraxes alone in this boring environment? I don't think so," you say quietly.

Daemon chuckles softly and wraps his arms around you as he stands behind you. "Boring?" he murmurs in his deep voice. You look over your shoulder, your eyes meet and you feel yourself getting warm despite the cold around you.

"Well, a bit..." you say and smile, "You're always involved in conversations with your brother that end in arguments... And then you drink whiskey until your anger dissipates... and you fall asleep"

Daemon looks at you and watches you closely.

"And I can't really talk to Visery's wife... She's boring, Daemon... She just knits and you can't really talk to her..." you continue as you turn around, your hands now on his chest.

His hands are on your hips, pulling you closer to him.

"And their children... always seem to sense when we..." but you can't finish the sentence. Daemon cups your lips with his. You gasp slightly, but surrender. Daemon pulls you closer, kisses you almost roughly.

He breaks the kiss and looks at you with half-lidded eyes. "So my wife is bored... and I can't take care of her properly?" he whispers. You bite your lip, instantly recognising the desire in his eyes, the certain tone of his voice.

"Maybe we should take the chance now that we're undisturbed?" he whispers.

You look at him a little incredulously, "Here? Daemon it's cold... and what if someone comes out?" you whisper. Your gaze falls on the huge Targaryen estate behind him.

But Daemon gently grips your chin, letting your gaze fall back on him.

"Then we should hurry," he murmurs.

He kisses you again, his hand travelling down your neck and gripping you lightly. A whimper fills the air, but you feel your desire rising – you've had to do without him for too long. Your hands move down from his chest, gliding almost effortlessly until they reach his crotch. His hard manhood is already pressing against the fabric of his jeans and a grin forms on your lips. You start to undo his belt and your grin is now reflected on Daemon's lips.

"Don't you want me to take care of you?" he mumbles.

You shake your head slightly and start to undo the buttons of his jeans – you bite your lip lightly.

The snow crunches lightly beneath you as you drop to your knees. His jeans slide down just a little with your falling movement so as not to expose him too much to the cold air. But his hard member doesn't seem to mind the cold, it's already pressing against his boxer shorts and twitching almost desperately. It's just waiting to be pulled out so that your lips can encircle it. When your eyes meet as your gaze travels upwards, your lips are slightly pursed. His pupils are dilated with lust, his breathing heavier as his anticipation builds.

His boxers slide down too and his arousal jumps out at you as you gently slide your warm hand along his hot length. Your teeth dig deeper into your lip as you feel his cock throbbing between your fingers, making your mouth water. Daemon growls slightly as you lean forwards and cup the tip of his cock with your lips.

"Gods..." he growls as you slowly let his entire length disappear into your mouth – or at least try to. You savour the sounds Daemon makes, knowing full well that he is watching his cock disappear into your mouth. And as you surrender to the familiar filling in your mouth, you moan slightly, followed by the gentle thrusts of his hips as they follow the movements of your head.

The salty taste is already spreading over your tongue as you begin to suck and lick his tip, concentrating on taking as much of his length into your mouth as possible while your hand strokes the rest of him. You calmly try to breathe through your nose when Daemon suddenly grabs your head and holds it tight. His hips begin to thrust harder and you moan loudly as his thrusts penetrate deeper into your throat. Sudden gagging follows as Daemon thrusts his cock into your throat with full force. The involuntary gagging makes your throat spasm around the tip of his cock. The interplay with the vibration of your moans makes Daemon groan loudly as he feels his cock being massaged in your warm, wet mouth.

Tears well up in your eyes as Daemon continues to thrust into your throat. Saliva slowly drips from your mouth as you are unable to swallow as you continue to be held tightly in Daemon's grip and he thrusts into you relentlessly.

"You like that, don't you?" growls Daemon, "The way I'm taking you... claiming your mouth."

You can't answer, but you moan at his words, unable to help but surrender to him. Tears run gently down your cheeks as the assault on the depths of your throat makes you gag up again and again. "Gods, you are divine... Look at me," he grunts and you try to obey and look up at him, still breathing heavily and with tears streaming down your cheeks. His thumb slides slowly over your cheek, a total contrast to his thrusting hips.

Daemon's hand grips your hair tighter, holding you firmly in place as his cock begins to twitch in your mouth. You start sucking hard, wanting to taste his juices. Daemon grunts loudly again and continues to hold your head while his hips thrust harder.

"Fuck, yes," he moans as his one hand tries to gently caress your cheek, "My good girl," he grunts before covering your warm mouth with a white veil. Deep down your throat he spurts his warm seed. His eyes are shut tight and his breath comes in gasps as you try to swallow it all down. You whimper slightly as Daemon opens his eyes again and looks down. He loves the sight of you kneeling in front of him, his cock deep in your mouth, your mascara slightly smudged.

Slowly, he pulls his hot length out of your mouth, then runs his thumb over your lips to wipe away the remnants of his cum. You're breathing heavily, but you're smiling. Slowly, you stand up again as Daemon pulls his jeans back up. He pulls you closer to him again, kissing your lips almost gently as you stand in front of him.

"Let's go inside, lock the doors and not come out until tomorrow," he murmurs against your lips. You can't help but giggle excitedly and nod at him.

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