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targaryen-dynasty · 4 months

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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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asumofwords · 8 months

Text

Modern!Dark!Aemond - Divorce AU - Oneshot

Til Death Do Us Part

SUMMARY: You and Aemond had been married for years, but he was not the man you thought he was. Discovering his affair with his secretary Alys Rivers, you had decided that enough was enough. You packed up your things in secret and left, leaving divorce papers on the table, and booked a one way ticket out of the country.

What will happen when Aemond goes to the ends of the earth to find you and make you his again?

WARNINGS: This fic is 18+. Readers discretion is advised. She/her pronouns, stalking, abuse, toxic relationships, infidelity, divorce, NONCON, manipulation, gaslighting, marriage, rough sex, choking, hitting, punching, yandere, obsessive behaviour, possessive behaviour, forced orgasm, violence, daddy kink, dacryphilia, head injury.

PAIRINGS: Modern!Dark!Aemond x reader

Word count: 10.2k

NOTES: Well, well, well.... Here we are. You have all been so feral waiting for this to drop and I am honestly so excited to see you all crawling about in my walls after. Probably shouldn't have to say this by now but will for new folks, READ THE TAGS, this is a DARK!FIC. There is no fluff or happiness lmao. This has been so fucking fun to write hehehe.... Anyway.... Without further adieu... Enjoy ;) <3

The soft hissing of the kettle took you away from the book you had been reading, nestled against one of the many windows in the small cottage you now owned.

Taking the kettle from the stove, you poured the boiled water over your tea leaves, watching the herbal mix swirl in the strainer.

The soft aroma of chamomile and peppermint wafted from the cup and you inhaled deeply, leaning against the kitchen bench as you waited for it to steep, no use going back to your book nook until the tea was ready to take with you.

The leaves from the pine trees in the forest outside had turned a deep green, the cold chill of winter having rolled through the valley of the quaint village you lived in early this year. Condensation rose from earth as the sun heated the mildew on the grass, the smokey illusion seeping from the forest floor.

It was different to the city. No more were the days of craning your head up to look at the crawling skyline of buildings, the sound of traffic, or yelling of people on the street. No more did you hear cars blare their horns or music, or the melodic sounds of people chattering in the late hours of the night or fights between lovers from apartments surrounding.

Now, the most noise you heard was the occasional storm that rolled through the valley, or the deer that wondered the pasture at the back of your property.

You could remember the first night you heard them, such a different and unfamiliar screeching that had set your hair on edge, eyes darting about to each window and front door as you raced around the house to make sure they were locked.

They always were.

You were meticulous that way. Always vigilant, always ready.

But in reality, you shouldn’t still be on edge.

It had been months since you left.

Almost an entire year since you packed your things and left the papers and your ring on the table for him to find. And what’s more, there would be no way for him to find you out here.

Not that he would even try.

You hoped.

It wasn’t as if you didn’t love him, or loved him; the lines were still blurred there. But Aemond had broken you in ways you never knew he could.

The lies, the secrecy, and then, her.

You remembered when you had first met Alys; a work event Aemond brought you along to. The pretty wife and happy family image did wonders for his company and the press, so he often brought you along on his arm, smiles and grins for the cameras, whispers of starting a family or trying for one, until you were out of view.

But that time had been different.

That time, something had changed.

You had known about Alys Rivers for a while, a new hire going months back. A woman from no notable name, nor background, a start up of her own, worked hard to get where she was, or at least, that’s what you had first thought when Aemond had described her to you; his new secretary hire.

An older woman, not one a wife would usually find as a threat.

It’s almost always the younger ones. Older men seeking out their youth between the thighs of a barely twenty-something, whilst their wives are none the wiser, or perhaps knowing and too resigned to care, birthing them children at home as their marriage dissolves into nothing but a loveless legal contract.

But this was different.

She hadn’t come to introduce herself at first, not at all, and that’s what you found the strangest.

Alys Rivers, a few inches taller than you, with pale skin and bright green eyes, had stood in the far end of the hired venue, sipping a glass of red wine, perfectly manicured maroon nails tapping on the glass, whilst she tucked an ebony strand of hair behind her ear.

You had felt the heat of her gaze immediately, your eyes meeting hers, and yet, she didn’t look away, didn’t smile softly, walk over and introduce herself as any other woman would have. She just stared. Right into your very soul. It had sent shivers down your spine, and you knew, in that moment, that something was wrong.

Off.

Aemond had done his rounds with his private investors, higher employees, friends, if you could call them that, and press alike, all whilst you stuck by his side, smiling pretty and responding with shallow answers that didn’t give too much or too little for them to talk about later.

You hated those stuffy events, men and women alike always trying to get closer to you in order to get to Aemond, who was a fortress to begin with. Some people often commented or made joking remarks at how surprised they were that you had married him. That you had managed to thaw the Ice Man himself, that he was even capable of such things, and you would always laugh and make jokes back in good nature, smile never reaching your eyes.

But really, he was amazing when you were first married. Doting, loving, loyal, and always there, though that was sometimes overbearing. There was of course the little things, the teeny red flags that you ignored more often than not, rose tinted glasses and all that, but you had been young and in love and crazy about him, and he had been the same about you.

But as the years rolled by, and the two of you grew, you also both changed. The business expanded rapidly with the death of his father Viserys, and Aemond became more preoccupied with that legacy, most of the empire being passed along to him, and not his older brother Aegon, who had no desire to work and would rather live off his inherited wealth with drugs and weekend benders surrounded by lusty women. Occasionally men too.

And then when Alys came into the picture, it was like a switch had been flicked.

As though the Aemond you had thought you knew, never existed at all.

Alys had sauntered her way over half way through the event to introduce herself, all saccharine smile with razor sharp teeth that looked ready to sink into your flesh. She was polite, pleasant, overly pleasant, too sweet, too complimentary, and it felt off. Like an overripe peach, or wine that had been left open for a week too long.

Your husband had been stiff at your side, hand flexing around the tumbler of whiskey the entire time she stood beside him, too close to be friendly, and most certainly far too close for a boss and his secretary. And really, you should have listened to your instincts then and there, for they screamed that something was amiss.

But Aemond had a way of getting into your head, making you believe every word he said, push away your own instincts, and question yourself over, and over.

And that’s what you had done.

Questioned yourself, over and over.

Yet one day, something in the back of your head nagged at you too loudly. Aemond had not answering his personal number, calls you could understand, but usually he responded to his texts. But that day he hadn't. And so you called the office, where he spent most of his time these days, which had become a frustrating new normal, as was the depletion of your small weekends away, romantic dinners, spontaneous days out together.

The marriage felt stagnant, stale, and you knew in your gut the true reason for it. His desk had rang for too many rings too long. And when Alys had finally answered, she sounded rushed, caught unawares, awkward.

That was all it had took.

You had asked if he had his lunch yet, that you were nearby in the city and wondering if you should drop by, knowing that he had been spending later evenings in the office ‘working’, or weekend trips away to Harrenhal for business there, his secretary tagging along.

Alys informed you that he had just ate, but the way she said it was with that same overly sweetness that set your brain afire.

It was almost smug.

And so, without even hesitating, like you had for months on end, you picked up your keys and left, heading straight to his office.

Your heart had raced the entire time you drove there, weaving through traffic, just knowing, knowing, something, deep in your gut was not right.

And you were right.

Because there they were, caught like two deers in the headlights as you had swung the door open, Alys, seated on his desk, skirt pushed up to her hips, one shoe lost to the floor as Aemond thrusted into her parted legs.

They hadn’t even heard you at first.

But she saw you.

And she had smiled.

You will always remember his face.

He had turned and looked at you with shock at first, but then it turned to anger, as though you were at fault for this, as though you had ruined his fun, as though you should have known better, scar on his cheek crinkling with the sneer he threw your way.

You left in a flurry of hot tears, immediately calling your lawyer.

You drove straight to your best friend Sara’s house, and crashed at hers for the week, ignoring the constant buzz of calls and texts, and yes, even emails from your husband. Aemond in his desperation to reach out to you, even drove to Sara’s house, demanding if you were there. You had hid in the bathroom, holding your breath in the tub, shaking with anger and heartbreak and fighting the urge to go out there, to yell at him, scream at him, or more dangerous still, forgive him.

Then you were gone, speaking to your solicitor to get everything set into motion, friends loyally supporting your decision. You left the divorce papers on the dining room table, packed your bags and left whilst he was at the office, giving him no chance to manipulate you into staying, no chance for argument, and no chance for your heart to win over, taking your essentials and sentimental possessions with you.

You stood in your home, looking at everything inside, at all the memories that you shared in there. From when you had first looked at the house, to buying it, to Aemond's insistence on christening every single surface in the house to make it yours, all giggles and smiles, pleasure and joy.

But gone were those days, gone was the joy and the giggles, the pleasure and the smiles, and so with shaky fingers, you ripped off your wedding ring, finger feeling bare in its absence as you left it atop the pages.

At first you were just hoping to get some space to clear your head and not be manipulated by your husbands lies and very convincing words again. You knew that if you gave him a chance, you would be stuck. You knew that if he pleaded, if he begged, if he smiled with his signature smirk, it would be your downfall. He knew you far too intimately now. He knew how to get you to bend to his will. So you booked the nearest ticket you could and raced to the airport, not once looking back.

You had just landed in Paris when you turned your phone back on, watching the screen as it lit up, where you were immediately bombarded with multiple missed calls from him and a barrage of texts that became more, and more aggressive as time went on.

It was your fault really, to poke the dragon the way you had.

And yet you still did it, answering one of his frantic calls to hear the cool and icy tone of Aemond, barely keeping it together on the other end.

“Where are you?” He had asked, voice deep and quiet, small growl on the end; a tell tale sign that he was furious.

The airport was loud around you, people moving to their next gates, or stopping to move to the small cafes to eat, others continuing onwards towards the baggage claim to collect their luggage.

“It's none of your business.” You had responded, tone clipped, irritation and anger surging through you at his audacity to even be mad.

“I think it’s plenty my business. You’re my wife.”

“Not anymore. Have your solicitor talk to mine. Sign the papers, Aemond.”

You heard him breathe heavily into the speaker, “If you think for one fucking second that I’m going to-“

You pressed the red button on your phone and hung up on him, shoving your phone into your back pocket as you moved lazily through the queue to get through customs.

By the time you had gotten out the other end, you checked your phone again.

There was only one text on the screen that had sent panic blaring through your mind.

‘See you soon.’

You hadn’t planned to run, you hadn’t even planned to leave the country indefinitely, you just needed an out, but Aemond’s aggression had extended it, triggering your flight instincts. You didn’t believe that he would hurt you, but this new anger had frightened you. This new Aemond frightened you.

But Aemond Targaryen’s anger was not new to you either, his possessiveness was not new, and at one point you had even found it endearing. But after years of being married to what you thought was the man of your dreams, the other shoe dropped, and the true man was revealed.

So you made quick work of it, going to an international bank, taking every single cent out of your combined account.

You knew he wouldn’t struggle financially from such a loss, having another seperate offshore account, or two, or five if you were really counting. Not to mention his inheritance which sat in a vault in Budapest.

Comes with being descended from royalty.

But in the end, you knew you needed every dollar if you were going to get away from him and make it stick.

So you got a new passport, ID, and hitchhiked your way across several countries until you finally settled, finding a cottage, nestled in the woods, a solid thirty minute drive from town, buying it from the local farmer in cash. No contract. No deed. Just cash and his silence.

And that’s where you had been ever since.

You took your tea to the window, settling against the nook, pillows and blankets strewn all over as you curled inside. You looked out at the trees, the sun slowly setting for the day.

It was cold in your cottage, not too cold, but cold enough. Winter had come early that year, and you had used more logs of wood for the fire than you had thought you would have needed.

It was strange, to be so far away from the life you used to live. To be so removed from the world. But in some ways it was good. You had no social media, having deactivated every single one you had, and you also had barely any use of your phone unless you turned on the broadband, which was shaky at best and if it was windy, the reception would cut out.

The only people you really spoke to anymore was the people who lived in the town just a ways away, and Sara, who called every Sunday like clockwork, well actually like clockwork, you needed to turn the broadband on for Skype to work on the laptop you had taken with you.

In the almost year you had been gone, you had taught yourself how to make your own clothes, pickle and preserve foods, and even became quite handy at baking the odd loaf of bread here and there. The farmers whose cottage it was previously had left his belongings behind, taking only his clothes and things of memory with him.

There were books almost everywhere, the old man having been an avid reader, and amongst the books had been one on horticulture, and so slowly but surely, you had grown your own self sustaining vegetable patch. It wasn’t perfect, but it prevented you from going into town too often, and also allowed you to not seek employment just yet.

That would come later when Sara would tell you that Aemond would sign the papers.

But every Sunday was the same.

“Any news?” You asked her that morning, Sara had frowned, pixelated to hell, but the frown still evident on your screen.

“Nope. Nothing. The asshole won’t sign them still. Solicitor can’t even find him to talk.”

You sighed, wiping hands down your face angrily.

Why was he doing this?

Why wouldn’t he just let you go?

Something about it made your skin crawl.

Those messages, those calls.

The ‘See you soon’ text.

Something had snapped in Aemond, and you didn’t like it one bit.

Your only consolation was that you were far away with a new name, new life, hidden amongst rolling green hills and large forests.

“How’s Cregan?” You changed the subject, and Sara had given you an update on everyones lives, her brothers first, and his new girlfriend. Then to all your other friends who you longed to see again.

But not yet, you just needed a little more time and for your husband to agree to the divorce.

When the sun had lowered in the sky, you moved to turn the lights in the house on, throwing some logs into the fire and lighting them with a match. You made sure to thank the Gods for solar panels.

The warmth of the fire heated up the small cottage quickly, and you made quick work of reheating a lamb soup you made a few days earlier, crisp homemade bread on the side with butter from a nearby dairy farmer.

It was hearty and warm, and filled you up, having a soporific affect on you. You had a glass of red wine as a treat afterwards, bought from the local markets and found yourself sinking deeper into fatigue.

It was a routine of sort, wake, eat, read, work on the garden or house, eat, drink, sleep. It was comfortable, and it eased much of your worries, always keeping busy. You didn’t realise how stressed and anxious the life you used to live made you.

The week went by, much the same.

The same routine.

The same walls, and floors, and rooms.

Same window nook, and cups of tea, and warming your hands by the fire.

By the time Saturday rolled by, you had been elated, excited even, to get out and look at the homemade wares and farm grown produce. To see the people you had grown to care about and make as your quiet friends. Still at arms length of course with your fake new life, but you let them in more than you had intended to.

It was never a large market, merely the other people who lived in or around the tiny town. But it was cozy, sweet, and some faces were more familiar than others. You looked forward to seeing them all and catching up on their weeks, especially an older lady named Lucy, who crocheted and knitted some of the most wonderful things. She had kind grey eyes, and would always insist on you taking something from her for free.

Today was no different.

“You make this most difficult, hen.” The grey haired woman frowned, coming round the side of her small stall to shove a large, grey knitted jumper into your arms, the same colour as her eyes.

You shook your head, “Lucy, please, at least let me give you some money for it.” Grabbing the soft wool that was pressed against your chest.

The older lady smirked, hands up in the air in submission, “It’s too late,” Her voice was thick with a Scottish accent, “You best be taking that, girly. It’ll be a cold winter that comes round this year, I feel it in my bones already.”

You sighed, “Then let me give you some money for it, and you can buy some more wool to make yourself some warm socks.” Fishing around in your bag to find some cash to give her.

Lucy crossed her arms across her chest, “Gonny no dae that. If you give me any money I’ll be right offended by you, I’ll gie ye a skelpit lug. It’s a gift, you dafty.”

You shook your head and chuckled, there was no point in fighting.

You would never win anyway.

“Fine.” You acquiesced, “But I’m coming to drop you some muffins and scones when I make them next week.”

The older lady sat down heavily in her chair behind the stall, “I expect nothing less. Will you bring some strawberries from yer plot? Dang caterpillars got into mine and tore them to shreds.”

“I’ll bring you a mix of goodies from my wonderful garden that has no caterpillars.” You teased, rubbing the woollen jumper between your fingers, “Thanks again, Lucy, but you’re a menace.”

“Got to be when yer married to my husband.” Lucy joked, but it made your heart race instead.

You swallowed thickly and smiled shakily at the woman, nodding before bidding her a goodbye.

You walked through the rest of the market for a while, getting some fresh honey from a local farmer, some potatoes for a stew later on, and even buying yourself a new handmade mug.

It was a bustling affair, small children giggling with their parents, and older members of town who had been born and raised there walking about and stopping to talk with their life long companions.

Bright bunches of flowers caught your attention, and you moved over to look at them all.

Native flowers of all kinds were bunched together; roses, petunias, anything that could survive the chillier climate. And as you looked at a peculiar shaped purple flower, hooded like a bell, the hair on the back of your neck stood up.

A shiver rolled down your spine, and instinctually you turned, eyes darting around the rest of the market, looking at the sea of people, young and old, walking with their wares, chatting amongst each other or smiling.

Not one had that familiar head of silver hair.

You breathed out a sigh, shaking your head.

It’s fine.

You’re fine.

You’re safe.

It’s just your anxiety. It was probably just Lucy’s comment that set you on edge.

Not even Sara truly knew where you were.

You looked back at the flowers again, eyes on the purple ones that were nestled amongst pea flowers and other pinks and yellows.

“Devils Helmut.” The man told you, noting your interest in its peculiar shape, “Monkshood to others, or Wolfsbane to those witchy ones.” His eyes looked at you intently, “You ok? Yer lookin’ a bit peely wally.”

He was tall, older, but not by much, with deep brown eyes and wavy brunette hair that came to his shoulders, tucked behind his ears. His jaw was sharp, a nice shadow across the skin from his stubble, with lips that were full and pulled upwards slightly. He had broad shoulders and large hands, tiny freckles dusting the pale skin as he watched you.

He was relatively new to town like you, but not really. Duncan, you remembered, had moved back to the little town after his father had passed away, inheriting the plot of land that was next to yours. Lucy had spilled the tea, over a cup of tea, about him with you a few months before, telling you that he was an eligible bachelor with a wink, trying to set the two of you up.

And although he was undeniably attractive, you worried for the implications of getting to know him, and eventually having to tell him about your marriage, and why you were truly where you were. You doubted the man would want anything to do with your baggage.

“I’m okay, just a bit cold. How have you been?” You asked him, the feeling of being watched prickling at the back of your head.

“Fairly good.” Duncan rolled his r deeply, same low Scottish timbre as Lucy, distracting you from the rancid feeling that curled in your gut, “The winter’s come early this year.”

Duncan leant a hand against the table, and you noted that there was no ring on his finger.

Stop that.

“That’s what Lucy said too. Can definitely feel it.”

Duncan looked pointedly at the jumper still in your hands, “And what’s she given you this time?”

Unfolding the jumper in your arms you held it up, holding it against yourself to show him, “A new jumper. Will be perfect when it gets colder. Wish she’d stop throwing things at me and not letting me pay though.”

Duncan laughed, a deep chortle that rumbled his chest and warmed your cheeks, “That’s Lucy for you. She does the same to me too, the auld blether.”

You laughed heartily, “We should go in doubles to the markets when you’re not selling. There’s strength in numbers, you know.”

Oh gods. Why did you say that?

A soft smile pulled on his lips, “You don’t know Lucy well enough if you think we’d stand a chance against her. She’d bowl us over without even blinking.”

Another laugh, and a shrug, "Worth the try.”

Duncan’s eyes scanned your face softly before he stepped forward, grabbing the bunch of flowers you had been looking at from their little vase, holding them out towards you, “Here.”

You looked at the flowers in his hands and frowned, “What?”

“Take them.” He insisted, “You looked right keen on the Monkshood, mean bloody flower that one. Be careful you don’t touch it too much.”

You shook your head, tucking your jumper into your bag, “I can’t possibly-“

“-Please. I insist.”

You reached forward to take the flowers from him hesitantly, feeling guilt bubble inside of you. What was with all these people and their generosity? It was going to give you an aneurism.

Your fingers brushed against his, and the warmth carried up your arm and straight into your chest. Duncan must have felt it too, because a soft blush creeped across his freckled cheeks.

Holding the bunch of flowers to your chest you smiled.

“You don’t have any pets at home? Any cats that might try and make a snack of the flowers?” Duncan pointed to the Monkshood.

You shook your head, “No it’s just me.”

His eyes danced as he nodded, and you felt as if you had answered his second question without him even having to ask.

“Thank you. They’re beautiful.”

A large hand waved the thanks away, “Dinnae worry about it. Though, I have heard good things about yer baking.”

“Have you now? Has Lucy spilt all my secrets?”

A smirk, “Not yer secrets no. But yer baking, yes.”

Feeling bold, you smirked back, “I could make you something, if you’d like." You held up the flowers in show, "As a thanks, of course.”

“What can you make?”

“Anything you want.” You said quieter, swallowing the anticipation that rose in your throat.

“Can you make a good scone?”

You scoffed, “Easiest of things to bake.”

Duncan mirrored your stance, pursing his lips, “Guess I’ll have to be the judge of that then. Do you have enough wood for yer fire? Snow will be falling soon, and we dinnae want you chittering in the cold.”

“I’ve got some left, but I know I’ll probably have to go over to Douglas and Lucy’s to get some more.”

The brown haired man paused in thought, tongue in cheek before he spun around, crouching down to rifle through a bag beneath his table, pulling out a pen and paper.

Duncan placed the small notebook in front of you.

“How about this, you give me yer number, and I’ll come round and bring you some more wood, maybe chop some for the fire as well, and you can thank me by making some scones. I can bring some of Elsie’s jam with me.” Duncan looked up at you, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear.

And although he had spoken with confidence, it was clear that he was just as nervous as you.

It was hard to fight the heat that creeped up your neck. Excitement and anticipation coursing through you, the feeling of being desired making you giddy.

It had been so long.

You bit your bottom lip softly nodding, leaning down to write your home phone number, making a note to plug the old thing in, praying that it still works, as well as your address into the notebook.

Duncan smiled softly, taking it back and looked at the note, “You didn’t have to write down yer address, I know you bought Macnair’s property a while back, we're practically neighbours. Not accounting for the acres between us.”

“Oh.” You laughed softly, “Sorry, I didn’t know you knew him.”

“Hard to not know everyone here, especially when you grew up around them all. Plus, hard to not notice the bonnie lass who moved here. Quite the stir you created.”

You shook your head and blushed again, Gods damn him, “Not my intention.”

You both stood shyly for a moment, staring at each other, a warm pleasant tension building around the two of you.

Duncan cleared his throat, and clapped his hands together softly, “Right. Well, It’s a dreich day, so you best be off before the rain comes again.” He held the notebook up in his hand and shook it lightly, “You’ll be seeing me soon then. I’ll be coming to collect some of those scones.”

You grinned, and held the flowers gently in show again, “I hope they’re up to your standards. Thanks again for the flowers. I’ll see you.”

“Looking forward to it.”

The blaring ring of the Skype call filled your cottage. You raced from the kitchen to the desk, answering Sara’s call with a bright smile.

“Sar!” You smiled, pulling out your chair to sit in it, looking at your best friends face. But her excitement did not match yours, and instead, her face filled you with dread.

“Sar, what’s wrong?”

You watched as Sara visibly swallowed, leaning towards her computer, “Aemond’s left the country.”

Chills ran over your body.

“Oh, he must have a conference in Rome or Budapest. He always used to-“

“-No.” Sara interrupted you, and her voice instilled a rising sense of fear that you had been battling with for months, “Y/n, I don’t think that’s it. He’s already been gone over a week. That’s why the solicitor couldn’t talk to him him.”

Your heart raced in your chest, blood rushing in your ears.

Sara continued as you felt the walls around you move closer, “That’s why the solicitor couldn’t get in contact with him. They went to his office. Apparently he’s on leave, not even Alys was there.”

You licked your lips, swallowing dryly, “What do I do? Fuck, Sara, what do I do?”

“Don’t panic. He doesn’t know where you are! Hell, I don’t even know where you are.”

“I know, I know. But still…” You paused, breathing shallowly, “Sara, I went to the markets yesterday, and it was… Off. Something was off… And I just couldn’t shake this feeling that I was being watched.” You felt like you were going to be sick.

Sara’s face fell, head turning to talk to someone else quietly in the room.

“Who’s that?”

“Just Cregan. He’s talking to Helaena.”

You scoffed sadly, “Helaena won’t know anything. She didn’t even know about Alys.”

Sara shrugged, image becoming pixelated, “I-…-ow…-bu-….-o….-harm…-“

“Sar, you’re cutting up.”

You swore, swatting the computer lightly as her image froze.

Fucking broadband. Gods, maybe you should invest in getting a satellite dish here. At least you could get some cable tv if you did.

“-come to you.” Sara unfroze, the pixels evening out to an almost smooth image.

You groaned, “I didn’t catch any of that. Fucking internet cut out.”

“Can you get a satellite or something like a normal person and not be such a hermit? I said, why don’t I come to you.”

“I couldn’t ask that of you, Sar. Besides, he wouldn’t hurt me, not that he’d ever find me. He’s just an asshole. Probably curse me out and tell me I’m making it all up.”

Sara’s face dropped again, and you wished she was pixelated so you couldn’t see it, the image making your skin crawl, “Y/n. Theres something you don’t know.”

You straightened in your chair, “Is Alys pregnant?”

“No. She’s too old for that. Something else. Something Jacaerys told Cregan one night years ago. I didn’t want to tell you then, you guys were so in love, and I had never seen you so happy. I just,” She sighed, “I didn’t even really believe it until recently.”

“Sar, you’re scaring me.”

She shook her head, “I know, I know. But as you said, he doesn’t know where you are, and he won’t find you. But Y/n, Aemond isn’t who we think he is.”

“Are you about to tell me he’s some sort of international spy, or politician in hiding?” You tried to joke, but the joke fell flat.

Sara’s head looked to the side before back at the screen, “When Aemond was young, he had a temper. A real bad one. Never got along with his nephews.” She took a steadying breath, “When Lucerys was thirteen and Aemond was nineteen, he attacked him. It was probably years of pent up anger after the accident, a fight had been brewing, but he didn’t stop. No-one could stop him, Y/n. It was bad. Really bad.”

Your stomach roiled.

“Y/n, Lucerys nearly died.”

Your mouth gaped open as you could scarcely get air into your lungs.

Oh gods.

“Breathe.” Sara cooed through the computer, “Girl, you need to breathe.”

You sucked in a sharp breath, hand rubbing your chest, “What the fuck?”

“I know. I know. But they were young, I mean, Aemond was a lot older, but still. They were boys. And Aemond would never do anything like that to you. Not that he will ever find you.”

You counted your breaths as Sara spoke to you, trying to get the room to stop spinning.

“Y/n, y-….I-…t wi-…ll be fine-…. I-… ca-…n…-“

You growled at your screen, standing up in anger and frustration, anxiety pulling cruelly at your gut. You paced in front of the desk as you waited for your friend to come back into view.

When she de-pixelated and came back, you leant heavily against the table.

“You got your phone with you?” You asked, rocking back and forth on your heels.

“Yea.” Sara lifted her phone to the screen.

“Okay, I’m going to give you my address. When do you think you can come?”

A cry flew from your lips.

The cottage was bathed in complete darkness, generator slowing to halt outside, the soft hum of electricity disappearing. Your heart lurched into your throat as you stood in the darkness. Skype screen blaring a ‘Lost Connection’ notification at you.

You took shaky breaths, trying to calm yourself.

This wasn’t unusual.

Just last month a squirrel had been trying to burrow into the electrical box for warmth and chewed through a cable. Luckily for you, Douglas had come over to fix up the wiring and helped you on your way. But with all that had been happening, it gave you a right scare.

Your heart did not slow in your chest, nor did you calm with the way your ears pricked at any noise inside or out. You stumbled through the darkness of the cottage to the kitchen, searching beneath the sink for your emergency torch.

Grasping it in your hand, you clicked it on, lone beam of light shining a path for you through the house to the front door. You crept slowly forward, the sound of your loud breathing in your ear as you got to the door.

You would have to go out and flip the switches manually, and make sure the damned squirrel wasn’t back.

Throwing on your wellies, you unlocked the four deadlocks you had installed on your door one by one until you opened it wide, the valley blanketed in the darkness of the night, clouds shrouding the moon and stars. The shadows of the forest around your house made you more on edge, every trunk or branch causing your eyes to linger that moment longer to decipher what it was.

But they were just that.

Trees.

You trudged around the side of the cottage, shoes crunching on the ground below as you made your way to the back. The icy air nipped at your skin, and you tugged the jumper that Lucy had knitted tightly around you.

They were right, winter had come early this year.

You would have to thank her later.

When you reached the electrical box, you tugged it open, shining the torch on all the different switches inside.

The main switch was flicked off.

For fucks sake.

The broadband must have blown it out.

The cottage was old, and the electricals likely older. But the solar panel were new, and you had a sneaking suspicion that perhaps the different generations of technology were clashing. You briefly wondered how costly it would be to have someone come to rewire the house for you.

As you looked at all the other switches, making sure they all looked in order, and the wires coming from out the back were all in tact, you felt the hair on the back of your neck stand on end.

You never liked coming out here in the dark.

It was scary, and although there was nothing out here to hurt you, unless there was a miracle lone pack of wolves that came strolling by, which you knew could never happen, since Lucy had told you wolves were hunted to extinction there. So it was just you, the trees and the moon.

The sound of a twig snapping in the woods made you spin on your heel, shining the torch out at the trees in vain. The light didn’t reach very far, illuminating just the front row of trunks, leaving the rest to be bathed in its dense darkness. Your heart thumped in your chest as your eyes scanned the woods.

It’s fine.

It’s nothing.

I’ve just worked myself up.

Gods.

It was probably just a deer or something.

You remembered the day you woke up to a whole herd of deer outside your cottage one morning, quietly munching on the grass outside. You had nearly screamed with joy, but kept the excitement inside, tiptoeing to sit in your window nook and watch them graze.

Holding the box open with one hand, you popped the small torch in your mouth with the other, holding it in your teeth as you flicked all the switches off, and then back on again.

You looked to the house.

Still dark.

You groaned, and did it again.

Again, nothing.

No hum of the motor kicking back on.

“Third times a charm.” You mumbled with the torch in your teeth, flicking the power back on.

The steady buzz of electricity came back, and the lights from the house illuminated a path for you back inside. You all but slammed the box shut and sped back inside to the safety of your cottage, spinning quickly to shut the door behind you, rapidly locking it tight with the deadlocks.

One, two, three, four.

You sighed a breath of relief.

See? Nothing. Just country electricals and wild deer.

You toed off your gumboots, hanging your keys on the hook beside the door.

You needed a glass of wine.

That would do it, a glass of wine and maybe some baking.

“Took me a while to find you.”

Ice ran down your back. Your heart leapt out of your throat as you spun on your feet, fear crashing over you.

You blinked.

And there he was.

Standing in your lounge room.

He had found you.

Aemond’s jaw ticked.

You were so in shock, so terrified that you couldn’t move, entirely rooted to the floor in place as your breath was caught in your throat. Your mouth opened as you tried to suck in air, head feeling light, but you couldn’t even speak. Couldn’t even let the scream out that clawed at the back of your throat.

He had found you.

Aemond took a step towards you, dressed in all black, his long silver hair pulled away from his face in a braid, “I told you, I would see you soon.”

Instincts kicked in, and like a startled deer, you ran. Tearing down the short hallway to get to your room, where you knew the old shot gun Macnair had left behind was hiding beneath the bed. But Aemond was quicker, and you heard his loud steps before you felt him, grabbing you from behind as you kicked your legs back and screamed, trying to get out of his grip.

“Did you really fucking think you could get away from me?” He grunted, holding you impossibly tight, “That I’d ever let you go? It was just by chance that I saw you today, I didn’t even think to go to the markets.” He explained, and tears prickled in your eyes.

You were right, you were being watched.

“But there you were. The Gods brought us back together again, Y/n. I was about to give up. But it was fate that our paths crossed again. It was meant to be.”

You thrashed against him, his arm locking around your chest and neck tightly. You turned your head and bit down on his arm, hard, tasting blood fill your mouth. Aemond hissed, tearing himself from your teeth as he dropped you to the ground, knees collapsing beneath you as you scrambled along the floor to get away.

“Fucking bitch.”

Pain rippled up your scalp as Aemond gripped you by your hair, throwing you back against the floor. Your head hit the wooden boards, eyes sluggishly blinking as the room spun and nausea curled in your stomach.

Your husband stood over you, sneering.

“You’ve been hiding out here for months whilst I’ve been looking for you. Having an affair with that other man who gave you the flowers.” Duncan, “Almost paid him a visit, but that can be done later. Spent all this time searching for my ungrateful cunt of a wife, but you didn’t hide well enough.”

His lone eye narrowed as he looked down at you, lips pulled back in a sneer. Strands of his silver hair had fallen from his braid and puffed with each breath as he stared down at you, chest rising and falling roughly.

You scrambled backwards, nails digging into the wood as he stalked forward, hunting you like prey.

“Money talks. And I have a lot of money. Which you would know, since you cleared out our joined account. Very naughty, Y/n.”

“Fuck you. Get out!” You screamed, kicking a leg at him.

Aemond laughed, dodging your kick, “I’m not going anywhere. You’re my wife.”

“I’m not your fucking wife, you psycho.”

“No?” Aemond paused, cocking his head, “Then why are we still on the marriage register? Hm?”

Your back hit the side of the bed, hands swiping underneath desperately in search as you kicked at him again. Aemond swatted your legs away with ease, smirking down at you meanly. But he couldn’t block your kicks forever, and your foot hit him squarely in his groin.

Aemond grunted, doubling over in pain.

You took your chance, desperate to escape as you crawled forward, away from the bed, dizzy and horrified, all instincts telling you to run, not fight.

Besides, you didn’t even know how to use the gun, let alone if it was even loaded.

You stood, side stepping him as you moved to run out the bedroom door.

Your head hit the wooden frame with a crack, smashed into it by Aemond’s large hand. Stars bloomed behind your eyes, pain shooting through your skull. You tried to catch yourself on the door, your nails digging painfully into the wood as you cried, the hand gripping your hair, pulling you back into the room.

Aemond threw you onto the bed, looming over you, “Do you know how long I’ve waited for this moment? To see you again? How hard it was to find you? And you’re acting like such an ungrateful little bitch.”

You grunted and cried, trying to get away, desperate to get yourself off the bed as he pushed you back on it.

“Get off me!”

“But a husband needs his wife,” He leered down at you, pupil wide, “I’ve been dying without you, Y/n. I’ve been bereft ever since you left me. Abandoning me like a coward.” Aemond shook his head, “You could never really leave me. You’re mine.”

“I hate you!” You screamed at him.

Aemond smiled down at you softly, stilling for a moment. Your heart stuttered in your chest as you looked at him, “No you don’t.”

His smile dropped from his face in an instant, shadow cast over his scarred cheek as he looked at you blankly, “And if you do, I’ll make you love me again.”

His hands slid down your body, and began to tear at your pants, busting the button from your jeans, sending it flying across the room, then ripping the zipper apart.

Sobs flew from your lips as you pushed up at him, desperate to make him stop, fear escalating within you, “Stop! Aemond. Stop!”

Your fingers tangled in the bed sheets as you kicked at him, knuckles going white as you tried to drag yourself up and away from him on the bed, nails pulling sharply as you used every ounce of strength you had left. The room still spun as your head throbbed with every movement or jolt of your body.

Long fingers dipped beneath the waistband of your jeans and tugged them and your underwear down your legs as you struggled and cried and clawed at him.

“Been a while since you played this game with me.” Aemond chuckled darkly, “Do you remember when you used to pretend you didn’t want it? When you’d say ‘Stop! Please, no!’ and cum around my cock all coy?”

You blinked, memories erupting inside your brain. But those days were consensual, that was fun, something he had even introduced you to. But now? This? This was different. This was not a game. This was not play.

You kicked at his chest, heel clipping his shoulder sharply, a grunt falling from his lips. Aemond slapped a leg away, other hand gripping your thigh tightly. You cried out in pain as his fingers dug into your skin meanly, pain rippling up it.

Your hands tried to pry his fingers away, but the glinting of his wedding ring caught your attention.

He was still wearing it.

He ripped open his belt, and terror struck inside of you.

“Aemond, no. Please. Stop! Aemond stop, please!”

But all the man did was smile down at you crudely, “Gods, I’ve missed your begging. So sweet and small when you’d get on your knees and beg for my cock.” He pulled his length from his slacks, hard and angry, a drop of arousal smeared across his tip, “You’re so fucking beautiful. And you’re mine. My wife.”

You felt like you were going to throw up, thrashing beneath him as he crawled atop of you.

You dug your nails into his arms, trying to swipe at his face and neck, your teeth bared, ready to bite down onto whatever limb came into their collision course.

“Stop.” He growled, slotting himself between your thighs, overpowering you completely.

You sobbed beneath him, begging him to stop, screaming at him to get off, grunting as you twisted beneath the sheets, your head still spinning with small stars that continued to multiply in front of your eyes, the corners of your vision shrouded in black.

In one final attempt, you went for what you knew would hurt him, what you knew would stop him, slow him down.

Give you time.

And so with the heel of your hand, you thrust it upwards into his face, connecting with his prosthetic eye, clipping the painful scar tissue that would sometimes wake him in the middle of the night in tears.

Aemond’s head withdrew with a sharp and pained cry, one palm pushing into his eye socket as he tried to calm the agony. You pushed against his shoulders, trying to move out from underneath, but Aemond was quicker, and his enraged gaze landed on you. The hand that had been pushing into his face, curled into a tight fist.

Your head whipped to the side, and a cool blanket of darkness washed over you.

You laid in it for a while, with no thoughts, no terror, no fear, just that darkness that curled around you quietly.

It was nice for a moment, almost comforting.

Just the feeling of not being there.

But then the blanket faded away, and pain bloomed in your face, iron on your tongue as you blinked in confusion.

There was movement and a weight atop you. Something sliding against your core.

And then, pain.

You whined, hands shoving against the chest above you as Aemond speared you on his length, thrusting sharply and dryly into you as he reached his hilt, the tip of his cock pushing painfully against your cervix.

You gagged quietly, head throbbing as the room spun, your arms weakly pushing at him, feeling as though they were made out of lead. Each movement of your body sent pain rippling through your skull, and bile into your mouth.

“Take it like a good wife.” Aemond growled, pulling his length out of you before thrusting it back in sharply.

You cried loudly, pain spreading through your core as you felt him tear at your walls.

He was always larger, much larger than anyone you had had before, and when you were together, he would have to spend ample time to prepare you, but you would always be wet to help.

The only wetness you felt now, was from your own blood.

Aemond began a harsh and rough pace, with long sharp thrusts that jolted you up the bed on his length, cries of pain bleeding from your lips as you cried, turning your head away from him.

You still tried to push at his chest weakly, nails scratching at him through the dark shirt he wore, but it was no use.

He grunted above you, picking up his pace, wrapping his hands around your neck for leverage. He squeezed, not tightly, but as a warning, and your eyes shot open to look up at him, hands clawing at his to try and get him to release you. The more you dug your nails into his skin, the more he tightened his hands until you were wheezing beneath him.

“This doesn’t have to be difficult, you just need to give in, baby. Come on. Be a good girl for me. Be a good girl for daddy.” He groaned, one hand leaving your neck to pull up the soft woollen jumper to reveal your breasts to the room.

Your nipples stiffened in the chill of the air, fireplace not having been lit yet and the cool of the early winter air seeping into the cabin.

“Fuck.” He hissed, hand coming to squeeze your breast roughly, pinching a stiffened peak between his fingers, rolling it through forefinger and thumb.

You whined in protest, hand trying to move his away.

Aemond lightly slapped your face, “Behave.” He accentuated with a hard thrust, another warning, sending pain shooting through your gut, “I’ll even let you cum. Be a good girl for me and I’ll let you cum, hm? Is that what my pretty wife wants?”

You shook your head weakly, tears overspilling from your eyes and down your cheeks, a sob working its way through your lips.

Aemond bent down and licked the trail of tears from your cheek, “Fuck.” He moaned, thrusting into you faster, “Forgot how fucking tight you were. Gods. Gonna have to make up for time lost aren’t we? You’ve been such” Thrust, “A naughty” Thrust “Girl.” Thrust.

Your core clenched around him instinctually, Aemond adjusting his hips upwards so that his length would brush against the soft spongey spot within. His pace faltered, and a smirk pulled at his lips. Warmth spread through your gut.

“There she is.”

“No. Please, stop. Aemond, please. I’m begging you.” You wailed, hands gripping his arms as your nails clawed into him.

Your husband smirked down at you, “Not so cocky now that you’re mine again, huh? Where’s that bratty attitude from on the phone?”

Aemond continued to fuck at you from the new angle, one hand on your neck in a promise, the other pulling a limp leg up his hip, revulsion barreling through you as you found yourself growing wet from the angle, your body betraying you.

The sound of your slick was loud in the room, adding to your shame.

Aemond only tutted at you, “See? Only I can make you feel like this. Duncan would never be able to make you cum the way I do. No-one can. You’re mine. This pussy, is mine. And what I do with it is for me alone.”

The light in the room was too bright above you, making your head spin even more, the clapping of his hips against yours loud in your ears as his thrusts rocked your head and body backwards, a familiar coil beginning to wind in your stomach.

It was all too much.

Even the smell of him overwhelmed you.

“Can feel you squeezing my cock. You gonna cum for me, baby?” He cooed, mocking you.

“P-Please st-op, Aemond. It h-hurts.” You sobbed.

“Oh it hurts does it?” The sneer was back, Aemond’s head leant down beside your ear as he pushed to his limit, your walls gripping him tightly, and whispered, “Now you know how it felt when you left me.”

You weeped.

“I hope it fucking hurts.” Aemond leant back, fucking into you with new found vigour, sitting back on his haunches as he pulled your hips onto him, the coil getting tighter and tighter.

It was horrifying, to find your body finding pleasure from his assault, but you couldn’t stop it, no matter how hard you tried. He knew you too well. Knew your body too intimately. Knew everything that made you tick, twitch, or moan. He had spent hours, years, learning how to expertly map out your body, and he knew your body better than you did.

A slick thumb pressed down on your bud.

“Come on, baby, cum for me. Wanna feel you cum on me. If you cum for me, I’ll forgive you, okay? You cum for me and I’ll know you love me back. Come on, be a good girl, cum for me.”

His thumb swirled roughly against your bud, your hands tightening around him, unsure if you were pulling him toward you or pushing him away. Your mind hazy and confused, the world having been turned upside down.

You came with a cry, back arching off the bed as Aemond praised you through it, fucking into you harder and faster. Warmth spread through your limbs, your eyes scrunched tightly shut, bright lights behind them as your skull throbbed.

Aemond fucked your limp body, thumb leaving your clit as he held your hips with both hands, drilling into your wetness with a painful force, pulling agonising pleasure from you.

You weeped below him, keeping your eyes shut as you just wished for it to be over. For him to just finish.

“Gonna fill you up. Gonna fill my pretty wife up so we can have a baby. Hm, doesn’t that sound nice? Start a family.”

You sobbed loudly, hiding your face in your hands as you turned your head away from him, the taste of blood still thick on your tongue from where he had struck you.

His pace became sloppy, thrusts uneven as he began to lose himself to pleasure.

“Fuck!” He hissed, thrusting into you sharply as he came, hot ropes of cum coating your walls as he thrusted weakly through his climax.

You chest stuttered with sobs, head spinning, but exhaustion taking over.

You were so tired.

So tired.

You just wanted to sleep.

Wanted to fade away back to that darkness again. Back to nothing.

“Shh,” Aemond hushed you from above, dipping his head to press a gentle kiss against your wet cheek and forehead, “It’s okay now. I’m here. It’s okay.”

You sobbed even harder.

Aemond pulled out of you with a hiss, a small whimper falling from your own lips as you felt pain strum through your brutalised walls. He flopped back onto the bed, dragging your body up beside him as though you weighed nothing, black blooming before your eyes as you knocked your head against the pillow, a wave of sickness rising inside.

But you didn't fight it.

There was no point.

No escape.

Nowhere to go.

Nowhere to hide.

You couldn’t run, even if you wanted to.

And so you laid in his arms as he held you whilst you cried, curling into him as the tears kept coming. He cooed at you softly, rubbing a gentle hand up and down your arm in a way he always used to.

It was so stomach turning, the different sides of Aemond, and if it wasn’t for the concussion that you certainly had, his actions alone would send your head spinning.

Because this Aemond, the soft Aemond, was the one you had known. The one who used to hold you to him, and whisper words of praise. But that was a long time ago, and the Aemond who held you now was a different man.

Someone you didn’t even know.

This Aemond was not the man you married.

Aemond pressed another kiss to the top of your head again, “It’s okay, cry it out. I know you’re sorry. And it’s okay. I'll forgive you. Alys was a mistake, but she’s gone now. She won’t be a problem anymore, okay? It’s just you and me.”

You sobbed louder, and he pulled you closer to him, tangling his legs with yours.

“I know, baby." He cooed sweetly, but it was insincere, hollow, cold, "I’ve missed you too. I love you so much, Y/n." Aemond exhaled hotly at the top. ofyour head before his voice fell to barely a whisper, "So much, you don’t know what I’m willing to do to keep you with me.”

A chill rolled down your spine.

You knew now what he was willing to do.

And with the added news of what he did to Lucerys, you wouldn’t put it past him to harm anyone that came between you again.

A wave of mourning crashed over you.

Mourning your past.

Mourning your future.

And mourning the person that you would become with him. There was no escaping this.

Him.

You inhaled his scent deeply.

He still smelt as he always did, but there was a lingering smell of pine in his clothes. The pines from the woods surrounding your home.

How long had he been out there?

How long had he been waiting?

“You’ll love me again, I know it. I’ll never leave you again. We will be happy together. Here.”

Your breath caught in your throat, eyes wide against his chest.

“You’ve chosen the best spot, baby. You always were clever, we can start our family here. Somewhere quiet, no-one around. Just you and me, and eventually the children. Like it was meant to be.”

A shiver rolled through you.

“Marrying you was the best decision I made in my life.” He kissed the top of your head again, smoothing your hair down with his hand lovingly, “I’ll make you see.”

You laid there as you cried, unsure of what to do, unsure of what to say. Having no real power over the situation, having no real way to escape or get out. If not for Aemond's sheer will, the four dead locks on the door assured it as well. He hummed softly as he let you cry, pain crashing through you in waves.

Aemond paused in thought, his thumb coming beneath your chin as he tilted your head to look up at him.

Your vision was fuzzy from the tears, and the edges were seeped in black, but you could see it. The crazed look in his eye as he gazed down at you with a hungry possessiveness.

“Do you remember our vows?” He asked, watching as you blinked at him, your lip wobbling as you tried to stop the endless stream of sobs that worked their way up your throat.

His thumb brushed gently over your bottom lip, a sharp sting sparking in it as his finger brushed over the split.

And then he smiled at you, in the same way that he had the day of your wedding, lips pulled wide, teeth revealed.

Your heart fluttered in your chest as you looked at him.

The man you had loved, the man you had married and planned a future with.

The man you had been on the run from.

His mouth parted again, smile becoming softer.

“Til death do us part.”

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

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mmurkoff · 1 month

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hockey aemond unfortunately he will never leave my mind

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velaryon-seahores · 8 months

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Eclipsed love. Part III

Pairing : Aemond Targaryen x Fem!reader ( Modern au )

synopsis : You and Aemond shared a romantic bond during your high school years. However, your relationship took a turn when an unexpected pregnancy altered the dynamics. Aemond, driven by aspirations of pursuing a career in medicine, struggled to reconcile his dreams with the newfound responsibilities. Meanwhile, the financial constraints and fear of revealing the situation to your strict parents left you without options, making abortion unattainable. When Aemond chose to end the relationship, you made the difficult decision to vanish, seeking a fresh start. Years later, your son fell seriously ill, necessitating medical attention. The twist in the tale was that the doctor who held the key to your son's recovery happened to be none other than his biological father, Aemond.

Warning: Angst. Physical fights. blood.

A/n : This is really dramatic I listened to my angst playlist on repeat while writing it soo yup 😭

Like comments and rebolgs are highly appreciated! ❤️

Part I Part II Prat IV

Aemond's voice quivered as he choked out the words, "Why did you tell me you had an abortion?" His brows furrowed, and his eyes were swollen and raw, evidence of countless tears shed.

Your heart pounded in your chest, a tumultuous mix of anger and hurt surging within you. How could he stand there, looking so wounded by your revelation? You stared at him, aghast and disgusted. The audacity of it all, him daring to confront you like this.

"Isn't that what you wanted to hear?" Your voice trembled with seething anger, teeth gritted so hard it felt like they might shatter. You turned away, desperate to escape the turmoil he'd unleashed, but his grip tightened on your hand, holding you as though you were his lifeline in a stormy sea.

"Can we talk?" Aemond's voice quivered, his fear of rejection palpable. This conversation wasn't just for himself; it was an attempt to mend the shattered remnants of your shared history, to give you both a chance at closure. "Please, y/n."

Panic bubbled up inside you, a maelstrom of emotions threatening to consume you whole. It felt like a haunting memory resurfacing, one you'd fought relentlessly to bury, memories that had once shattered your very soul. You let out a frustrated cry, abandoning the sandwich in your hand to slap him across the face. "Let go of me!"

Aemond groaned, finally releasing his hold on you. You both stood there, chests heaving, locked in a tense gaze.

In his eyes, you saw remorse, pain, disappointment, and a profound sadness.

And in yours, he saw a blaze of anger, the deep wounds of hurt, a lingering sense of disgust, and an ache that cut to your core.

He watched you begin to retreat, your vision blurred by tears, and before you could escape, he hurriedly followed.

His arms encircled your trembling form, effortlessly lifting you from the ground. You struggled against his hold, but he was unyielding, and the next thing you knew, you were tossed onto a bed in an empty patient room.

As your heart raced, you scrambled to your feet, desperate to escape, but he moved faster, his trembling hand locking the door before he stood as a formidable barrier in your path.

"Let me go!" Your voice tore through the room, a gut-wrenching scream born of anguish. "I don't want to hear you, I don't want to see you, I don't want you anywhere near me! Let me go!"

"I will," his voice quivered, his outstretched hand aching for your touch. Yet, as you slapped it away and retreated, he hung his head in despair. "I swear I will, but please, just listen."

Tears streamed down your face, mingling with your rage, and you lashed out, the blows falling upon him like a tempest. Each strike a testament to the agony within you, each slap an expression of the torment that had engulfed your soul.

Aemond seized your trembling hand, his teary, red eye locking onto yours with a haunting intensity. Desperation etched across his face like a scar. "I know," he murmured, his voice a mere whisper and his face was closer to yours "I know. I'm a wretched excuse for a human being, undeserving of your forgiveness, undeserving of anything. But I'm begging you, please. I won't release you until you've hear me, y/n."

The room seemed to close in on you, the weight of emotions unbearable, as you stood locked in this heart-wrenching standoff, your souls entangled in a web of pain and regret.

You yanked your hand away from him and turned around, crossing your arms and looking at the wall. There’s no escaping, he made it clear.

Aemond wiped the tears of his face, small gasps leaving his lips as he got closer to you.

“ Don’t get any closer!” Your voice cracked, your gaze was sill fixed on the wall in front of you

He nodded rapidly with new tears leaving his eyes. The pain he caused must be so great to the point you can’t even look at him.

"Y/n... I understand the gravity of my actions, the pain I've caused. I don't expect your forgiveness; all I wish is to make things right by you, by our child," he begins, his voice trembling with emotion. "I want you to know that you've never left my thoughts, not for a single day. I kept in touch with your mother and friends. I visit your home every year. I'd lock myself in your room, yearning for that one day you might walk in, to find you there—happy, healthy, and alive."

A gasp escaped the both of you. Yours, at reminder of the deep ache for your mother; his, at reflection of the terror he felt upon realizing the weight of his actions.

The room felt stifling, the words too much to bear. You longed to escape, to return to your son.

"I attempted to erase you from my mind. I buried myself in books and distractions, trying to forget you, but I couldn't. I tried to move on, find someone new, but my heart only craves you. I was blind to what I had until I lost you—the only genuine love in my life," His eyes were locked onto you, filled with an intense desire to hold you, to find solace in your embrace, just like he used to when he was upset when he was younger. He yearned for your comforting touch, for you to soothe his pain with the same lullabies you used to sing to him.

He yearned for you.

"I got accepted into college and suppressed my feelings for a year, focusing on studies. But when my father passed, I realized it wasn't worth it. Losing you, the future we envisioned, raising our child together... it held no value. My father never acknowledged me, never expressed pride. I was foolish to think that losing you would somehow make it all worthwhile," he admits, his voice cracking under the weight of his words. Your choked sound halts him.

Facing him, pain etched across your features, anger replaced by raw hurt.

"So, it would've been worth it?" Your voice trembles, dripping with pain. "Losing me, ruining my life, would've been worth it if your father had acknowledged you, if he'd been proud of you?"

Aemond's confusion fills his gaze, his eyes searching for understanding. "No, no, that's not what I meant!"

"Really?" you retort, voice laden with anguish. "Then what did you mean?"

"Y/n, even if he acknowledged me, it wouldn't be worth it. Nothing is worth losing you—there's no happiness, no love, nothing without you! A life with you is my only dream!" he implores desperately.

"Hell, you say?" you say in disbelief, your voice heavy with the weight of your own suffering. "I lost my family! I lost my best friend! I dropped out of school! I had to move away to a place where I knew nobody! I had to work and raise a child all on my own! I had to give up on my dreams to make sure my son could achieve his!"

Fresh tears spilled from Aemond's eyes as he starts to sob, his voice heavy with remorse. "I'm so sorry," he cried out, his words filled with regret,

Tears stream down your face as you vigorously shake your head, your voice quivering with raw emotion. With a shaky breath, you muster the strength to speak, your words laced with pain. "No, you don't get to apologize. You don't get to apologize."

Opening your tear-filled eyes, you lock your gaze onto him, your voice breaking as you pour out your heart. "I was ready to sacrifice it all for you. I was prepared to abandon my dreams, to drop out of school and care for our child while you pursued yours. I wanted to help you through your exams, to be your biggest supporter, to proudly watch you graduate, holding our son, while I told the world how amazing you are. I was never going to force you to give up your aspirations. I was willing to stand by your side, to fight your battles, even against your disapproving father, because I believed in you. I promised to be your unwavering support, and I was determined to keep that promise until you shattered me and took away everything I held dear."

As Aemond reaches out to you, you step back, your eyes weary and burdened by the pain you've endured. "But that's not even the worst part," you continue, your voice now weary, your eyes revealing the depth of your suffering.“ I love my son, with every fiber of my being. I would give him my own heart if it meant that he would be able to live happily, but do you know how it cuts me deep to look in his eyes? Because every time I look, I see you. Do you know it pains me when I see him acts like you? How my heart is ripped apart when he behaves and talk like you. How it kills me that he looks like you? So don’t you dare stand there and tell me you have been through hell “

You crumpled onto the bed, sobs racking your body. Aemond reached for you, instinctively pulling you into an embrace. But you pushed him away.

Your emotions explode in a torrent of anger and despair. With a scream that carries the weight of all the pain you've concealed within, you lash out, slapping Aemond's face with every ounce of strength you possess. "I hate you!" you scream, each word dripping with venom. "I regret everything," you continue, your voice choked with sorrow and rage. With each strike, you pour out your heart, each hit a stark reminder of the anguish he's caused. "I regret loving you, kissing you," you seethe, your voice quivering with intensity. "I regret every 'I love you.' I regret you, all of you!" The pain and betrayal you feel are palpable in the room as you continue to attack him. "I wish I never laid my eyes on you!" Each word is punctuated by another slap or hit.

Aemond seized your hands once more, turning your fragile form around. He enfolded you in a tight embrace, tears streaming down his face as he pressed his wet cheek against your neck.

Once, his embrace had been your sanctuary, a haven where you could seek solace after the most grueling days, a sanctuary where you found refuge after the most disheartening exams. But now, in this moment of shattered love and broken promises, it was a prison from which you yearned to escape.

"Let me go!" You cried out, your voice filled with anguish, your body writhing in his grasp. You scratched at his arms, dug your fingers into his flesh, every gesture an attempt to inflict as much pain as possible. "Let me go!"

"I love you, y/n," he whispered, his voice trembling, his words a fragile plea. "I will always love you, and I'm so sorry. I'm so very sorry for everything. If only... if only I could turn back time, I would. I would give anything to undo the past."

With those words, he released you, the feeling of his touch slipping away. You heard the door click, sealing your separation from him.

Turning to face him, you summoned the last shreds of your strength, your hand connecting with his cheek in a final, painful slap. "Fuck you."

And with that, you fled from the room.

You rushed back to your room, flinging the door open. As it slammed shut behind you, you crumpled to the floor, unleashing a heart-wrenching cry that pierced the silence. The sound was so agonizing that it instantly drew your son and Qoren, who sprinted to your side as if propelled by sheer instinct.

Qoren gently scooped you up from the cold floor, his arms a comforting refuge, while your son knelt beside you, his small hand searching for yours, eager to offer his tiny but unwavering support.

"I hate him," you managed to choke out between sobs, your voice trembling with a mix of anger and heartache.

Qoren's jaw clenched, his eyes hardening with a mixture of concern and anger. "Everything will be fine," he reassured you, his arms rocking you back and forth in a soothing rhythm.

"I told him not to bother you!" your son, Luke, piped up, his young voice tinged with a hint of defiance.

Qoren's head snapped in Luke's direction. "He was here?"

"Yes," Luke replied, his gaze unwavering. "He was looking for mom and he apologized to me, as he should. Not that I'll accept it."

Qoren nodded rapidly, his protective instincts kicking into high gear. He looked down at you, his expression one of determination. "Where is he?"

"Qoren, please," you implored, wanting nothing more than for this painful chapter to end and for your life to return to normal, focusing solely on your son.

Reluctantly, Qoren released you from his grasp and walked over to Luke's bed, gently placing you down. Your son crawled after you, his little arms wrapping around you, mirroring Qoren's movements in an attempt to comfort you.

"Where. Is. He?" Qoren's voice seethed with controlled anger.

"Qor—"

"Tell me!" he shouted.

You didn't want to reveal Aemond's whereabouts. You yearned for the entire ordeal to disappear, to resume the life you once knew, centered around your son and no one else.

"Tell me, or I swear I will turn this whole hospital upside down."

"We... we were in one of the patient's rooms near the cafeteria," you finally relented, your voice filled with defeat. "I... I don't know if he left."

Qoren clicked his tongue impatiently, his gaze shifting to Luke. "Look after your mother, little astronaut. I'll be back in a minute."

"Aye aye, captain," Luke grinned bravely.

Before Qoren left the room, you grabbed his hand, your eyes pleading with him. "Don't do anything stupid! Don't."

He simply stared at you, his resolve clear. He was undoubtedly going to take matters into his own hands.

Qoren stepped out of the room, his heart ablaze with an inferno of anger. In his eyes, you had always been more than a friend – you were a sister, a confidante, someone he fiercely protected. And when your son entered the world, it felt as if destiny had woven your lives together even tighter, making you a family in every sense.

He had raised the boy, handpicked his clothes and toys, even painted his room together. Nights were spent watching Star Wars movies, despite his indifference to them. Qoren was there for school drop-offs and pick-ups, attending every play, teaching him life's lessons. He cried when school trips took him away, for he was his son in every way except by blood. Even his own father saw your son as his grandson.

To Qoren, you and your child were his family, the stars in his universe. And he couldn't bear to stand idle, watching as Aemond threatened to unravel the world he'd helped build for you.

He scoured through room after room, his determination unwavering until his gaze fell upon the one that held the object of his anger. Settling on the bed, Aemond's distant gaze fixed ahead, lost in thoughts only he could comprehend.

"You.. You fucker!" Qoren shouted, his voice echoing with fury.

Aemond had no time to react as Qoren's hands grabbed him, hurling him violently to the cold, unforgiving floor. Qoren's fists rained down upon Aemond's face with merciless force, each blow driven by a potent mix of anger and a fierce desire to protect.

"Stay," he seethed, punctuating his rage with a punch. "Away," another punishing strike. "From," the onslaught continued. "My son!" Each word carried the weight of an entire world of hurt as Qoren relentlessly battered Aemond, each punch an embodiment of his determination to shield his loved ones.

Aemond made no attempt to resist or fight back; he lay there, passively accepting the barrage of blows, his hand lying limp at his side. He believed he deserved every bit of the agony he was enduring - the broken nose, the taste of his own blood seeping from his battered face. All of it was nothing to what he had put you through, so he will willingly take it.

"I deserve it," Aemond managed to utter, his voice tinged with self-loathing. Yet, his words only stoked Qoren's fury.

"Shut the fuck up!" Qoren roared, his rage manifesting in every bone-jarring punch.

Aemond's response was unexpected. He began to laugh, a twisted, bitter laughter that reverberated through the room. "I deserve it!" he declared, his voice growing louder, as if trying to drown out the pain with his defiance.

The commotion drew nurses and concerned bystanders into the room, desperately trying to pry Qoren away from his relentless assault. "Let go of me!" Qoren screamed, his voice a desperate plea. "Let go of me!"

Meanwhile, Aemond lay supine on the floor, his face masked in a grotesque tableau of crimson. His features were scarcely discernible beneath the smear of blood. but he seemed unfazed, a twisted smile on his face. "My Y/N," he mumbled, his voice hauntingly tender. "My sweet girl."

A nurse, her voice quivering, recognized him amidst the chaos. "Doctor Aemond!"

"My beautiful girl," he continued to murmur as they moved him to the bed. "My Y/N."

Voices buzzed around him, but all Aemond could see was your face.

"We need a neuro doctor!"

"Call in for a trauma doctor too!"

"Is this his eye?"

"No, that's his prosthetic eye!"

And then, as swiftly as it all began, everything dissolved into a haunting darkness, leaving behind only the haunting image of your face in Aemond's battered mind.

When Aemond awoke, his eye roved around the dimly lit room. The relentless throbbing in his head drew a hiss of pain from his lips, and he instinctively cradled it in his trembling hand. The incessant beeping of machines only exacerbated his suffering.

"Aemond?" came a fragile voice from beside him. His head snapped towards it, and there she was - his sister Helaena.

Tears glistened in her eyes, and a sad smile graced her lips as she gazed at him.

"Helaena," he breathed her name, and the relief that flooded his voice was palpable.

She moved closer, her steps deliberate and tender. With a gentleness that belied the storm within him, she enfolded him in her embrace. Aemond's defenses crumbled, and he surrendered to the weight of his emotions once more.

Tears streamed down his face, much like they had that fateful night when he had returned home, a shattered man, realizing that you were truly gone. The ache was achingly familiar, the scene hauntingly reminiscent. Yet, this time, the pain was an unbearable weight, an avalanche of grief and remorse that threatened to consume him.

Helaena's arms held him, rocking him gently. "Shh, it's okay," she tried to calm him down.

"Nothing is okay," he choked on the words, his voice raw and ragged with pain.

"It's going to be," she murmured, her fingers tenderly caressing his disheveled hair.

They remained silent for a time, finding solace in each other's presence. Then, she gently broke the silence "I went to their room while you were sleeping," she confessed.

Aemond didn't respond, but his grip on her tightened, a silent plea for her to continue.

"Qoren wouldn't let me in," she continued "He said she was sleeping, but I saw him. He was watching from the window."

At the mention of Lucerys, Aemond buried his face deeper into Helaena's neck, his tears dampening her shoulder.

"He looks like you," Helaena whispered through her own tears, "so much like you."

Aemond's heart ached with the mention of his son. He nodded, unable to speak.

"I assume the talk didn't go well?" Helaena asked gently, wiping the tears from her face

Aemond finally found his voice, filled with regret. "I think I made it worse."

Helaena's response was filled with sisterly assurance. "I will talk to her tomorrow."

Aemond looked up at her, his eyes filled with pleading remorse. "Tell her I'm sorry, please."

"I will," she promised, her voice unwavering.

She cradled his head against her shoulder and neck, rocking him back and forth.

"I don't want to burden you with this now, but I must," she said softly. "Mother is coming tomorrow."

Taglist : @cyeco13 @namelesslosers @echos-muses @exitpursuedbyavulcan @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @fernanda-reads @topaz125 @moonlightazriel @justrybca @girlwith-thepearlearring @anehkael @teamstorybooks @riseandreigns4u @noemienakamoto @lijeno @watercolorskyy @afro-hispwriter @khaleesihel @praline357 @fantasticpeaceharmony @brianochka @sweethoneyblossom1 @happinessinthebeing @snh96 @heavenly1927 @zenka69 @toodlesxcuddles @lunamoonbby @blairfox04 @multiple-fandoms-girl @tsujifreya @tempo-rary-fix @lipgloss05 @carriellie @dc-marvel-girl96 @fan-goddess @strangersunghoon @daenerysqueenofhearts @notnormalthings-blog @bluevxnus @spinachtz @t0uch-starved-h0e @avitute @siriusblackrunmeover17 @mrstargayen09 @minttea07 @introverbatim @love-romancebooks @betelrus @julczimozart @mothertower @persephonerinyes @kravitzwhore @boofy1998 @drmeghanjones @docmartinis

I apologize if I didn’t include everyone, I tried but it won’t let me.

What do you think Alicent would do?

#aemond targaryen #aemond x fem!reader #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen angst #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen smut #aemond au #hotd modern au #aemond modern au #aemond fanfiction #aemond x you #aemond x reader #hotd fanfic #aemond targaryen x female reader

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darlingofvalyria · 8 months

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the sister's hot best friend trope— masterlist.

In which you're Helaena's hot best friend, and you take pity on Hel's younger, quieter, in an-unhealthy-unbalanced-on-and-off relationship brother by fake dating him. Hilarity (and confuse feelings) ensues.

ONGOING, +18 MDNI | Modern AU! Aemond Targaryen x Sister's Hot Best Friend!Reader, ft. Cregan Stark x f!reader + Aemond Targaryen x Alys Rivers

♡˗ˏ✎*ೃ˚ : P A R T S ::;˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀

｡˚ ❀↳˗ˏˋ PARTS MARKED 'M' CONTAIN MATURE CONTENT ˊˎ˗ ↴🌸

01 | 'it's called a hustle, sweetheart'

M! | 02 | 'baby, all you gotta do is trust me'

03 | 'pucker up, buttercup'

M! | 04 | 'oh honey, you can do better than that'

05 | 'we're really in it now, darling'

06 | 'it's called a lovebug, lovebug'

07 | 'my love, you can call me whatever you like'

Message to be added to the taglist!

#elle writes !! ꒱ ↷˗ˏˋ🍒#hotd fanfic #aemond targaryen x reader #hotd modern au #aemond x reader #hotd crack #aemond targaryen modern au #aemond fluff #aemond angst #aemond x y/n #aemond targaryen x y/n #˚➶ ｡˚ ➥ elle's masterlists ₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚.#tshbft ༊*·˚ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ

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sapphire-writes · 11 months

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Our Last Summer Masterlist

pairing: modern!Aemond Targaryen x Reader

summary: You're invited by your best friend Baela to spend the summer before your senior year of university at her grandparents' home on Driftmark. A summer full of beach trips, summer carnivals, and sailing, it seems perfect, despite Baela's family drama; especially her uncle who you cannot stand.

status: completed 10/10

tropes: summer romance, enemies with benefits, enemies to lovers

🎵 series inspired playlist 🎵

moodboard by the lovely and talented @sapphirehearteyes

rating: Explicit (will vary chapter by chapter, please see individual warnings

dividers by the lovely @firefly-graphics

Part 1 ~ Welcome to Driftmark

Part 2 ~ Rich Kid Special

Part 3 ~ Seasmoke

Part 4 ~ Lightening Strikes

Part 5 ~ Rules

Part 6 ~ History

Part 7 ~ Sparks

Part 8 ~ The Gala

Part 9 ~ Stay

Part 10 ~ Summer's End

moodboard

#sapphire wip #our last summer #masterlist #jo writes #aemond x reader #hotd modern au

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azperja · 11 months

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Modern! aemond because I cant get enough of him 🤲🏻

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targaryenrealnessdarling · 7 months

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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”

Aemond Taglist (1): @asp3nxx | @avidreader73 | @bellaisasleep | @boofy1998 | @cathy1514

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targaryen-dynasty · 1 month

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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.

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asumofwords · 8 months

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Modern!Dark!Aemond - Divorce AU - Oneshot

Til death do us part

What will happen when Aemond goes to the ends of the earth to find you and make you his again?

WARNINGS: This fic will be 18+. Readers discretion is advised. Please make sure to read tags, and remember this is a dark!fic. She/her pronouns.

PAIRINGS: Modern!Dark!Aemond x reader

NOTES: Uh oh, another thing in the works…I’m not sure when I will be posting this, but I had to get it ready in the drafts because I’ll be damned if I don’t follow through with this! Thank you to the lovely anon who suggested a Dark!Aemond divorce fic 😈

If you would like to be tagged in this fic, please let me know!

Taglist:

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the-common-cowgirl · 7 months

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Greater of Two Evils

Summary: Your brother is a powerful man and so is Aemond Targaryen. You’re caught as a pawn between the two men. You have to chose between two evils and unfortunately for you, you chose wrong.

Rating: Explicit, Minors Do NOT Read, 18+

Word Count: 4.3k

Pairings: Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Reader

Warnings: DD;DNE, Non-Con/Dub-Con, Choking, Rough Sex, smut (p in v, fingering, oral sex (f receiving) jealousy , possessiveness, incest-y vibes from brother, unwanted creampie, breeding kink, coercion, mentions of birth control/emergency contraception not being allowed/available to reader, Aemond wants reader pregnant, men being dicks, degration, praise, Capitalism and the Elite, swearing

A/N: This is a spite fic dedicated my first hate comment. I hope you wait even longer now. 💋

Not yet proofread.

Your brother was a powerful man. One of the most powerful in Westeros. Many say he didn’t deserve his position, both of you coming from near nothing, but your brother was born with a gift your parents would often say was a “creative and hungry mind.” He was 10 years old when he started a small lawn care business in the Riverlands that grew to a full-fledged company at 14 he (and your parents due to his age) ran. At 16, he sold that company, got an internship at River’s Corp. When he freshly graduated University in Oldtown as the top of his class, giving a speech that would be remembered as one of the best speeches Oldtown Univeristy had ever the opportunity of hearing, he asked if you would like to move to Dorne with him, get out of the Riverlands and have an opportunity at Sunspear University. Seeing the chance at freedom and knowing your brother would most likely be paying for your schooling (since he had just been offered a high ranking position at Sunspear Industries) you took his offer and moved in with him a week after you graduated high school in the Riverlands.

That was three years ago. Your brother is now CFO of Rhoynar Industries and you’re in your third year of University at Sunspear studying Political Science. When you first moved in with your brother, the first two months were happy and spent everyday in your high-rise apartment’s swimming pool. But your brother had changed, or maybe, he was finally able to let his true self free during his college days as many young adults often do and his personality shift just took you longer to notice. His controlling behavior started innocent, nagging at your to keep the house tidy, then turning into commenting on what you wore out, turning into full blown comments about your appearance, weight, hair color. He made you dye your hair color black, to match his own natural color. Long gone were your auburn waves but you didn’t notice it then, well you did, but you weren’t as disturbed by it. Telling yourself he wanted you to look the part of perfect sister.

But then, halfway through your first semester, he told you that your Early Education major wasn’t good enough for him. He demanded you change it and when you tried to argue, he simply took your laptop, reminding that he bought it, and emailed your academic advisor that you’d like to change your major and wanted to meet with them first thing tomorrow morning.

That should’ve been the straw that broke the camel’s back, you should’ve left that night. Packed your things and went back home to the Riverlands; be with your parents.

I’m every aspect of your life, you always fell short of the greatness of your brother: courage was not exempt.

That next morning, you went with puffy eyes to your advisor’s office and changed your major, dropping out of your current courses and signing up for secondary 8-week courses for your new major that would, in your brother’s words “thankfully start next week.”

You could easily summarize your life in Dorne these past few years: the Seven Hells.

All of this leads you to this moment. Your brother and you were invited to King’s Landing by the head of Targ Corp for an annual celebration they held for their most loyal alliance corporations. It was easy, your brother and his team of associate executives played a simple game: play nice with each other and keep everyone else from rising above. Being around these people made you want to vomit. These posh-assholes were some of the most dangerous and hateful people you’d ever laid eyes on, all wrapped in clothing that were one of their low-level employee’s entirely yearly salary. You didn’t want to be here, not a single bit, but your brother held the carrot stick of Univeristy tuition and free-housing over your head so you played along like the good sister you were expected to be.

You had just gotten out of the shower when you brother came barging into your hotel room without knocking, holding a garment bag.

“Hey!” You shouted, covering your naked self with a towel, “Can you knock next time?” You briefly wondered how he had gotten in, you made sure you locked it twice, then you saw the keycard he had kept for your room sliding back into his pant pocket.

“Wear this tonight,” he disregarded your fluster and laid the garment bag down on the bed you were sitting on.

Your brows furrowed, looking at your own brother with trepidation. He knew you had brought one of the black dresses you had picked out a month ago and he had agreed to it then. Why had he changed his mind so suddenly?

You slowly opened the bag to reveal a dark green, dress that showed off entirely too much skin than you were comfortable with around these vampires.

You began to shake your head, “No, I don’t want to wear this one. It’s cold out and I want to wear the black, long sleeve one I-“

You were cut off with a harsh hand grabbing your jaw.

“Wear it or we’ll see how long you can pay for that expensive schooling on your own.” He spat into your face harshly.

Once he let go, you brought your hand up to rub at your jaw where there might be bruises now. Your skin was sore and your bone ached. “You know what, maybe I don’t want to even get this degree. Maybe I’ll move back in with mom and dad and just fucking live my own life again.”

As you sat on the bed angrily with tears of resentment brimming your eyes, you could feel your brother’s stare on you, boring holes into everything he deemed imperfect about you.

“Do this for me,” his voice was softer, “And I’ll give you anything you want.”

You finally looked up to him, disbelief in your eyes.

He kneeled to reach your eye level, you wrapped the towel around you tighter, “There is a man here I need you to impress. Do this for me and I’ll give you anything you want. I mean it.” His hand came up to brush your nude knee, you moved away instinctively.

You swallowed your unease. “What’s his name?” Your voice was so small.

He smiled at your acceptance, if you willing to work with him on something, if you giving in. “Aemond Targaryen,” he stood, returning to his business-like self. “He’s the son of the CEO, Visery’s. Aemond is a year older than me and he’s in politics. We-“ he paused, smiling at a memory, “We met in University…..He never really liked me.” He looked to you, “He’s the last legislator we need on our side for this deal that Roynar Industries and Targ Corp. are working up.”

“He’s against Targ. Corp?” You sounded flabbergasted, wondering why a Targaryen, the most infamously loyal family in the country, is an against his family’s own interests.

Your brother nodded and laughed, “Yeah, he fucking hates his dad.” He chuckled to himself some more before, “I just need you to win him to my side.”

You heard the implication and you skin began to crawl, stomach turning, “You seriously want me to fuck him?”

Your brother shook his head and chuckled as if you were crazy, “Just win him to our side.” He walked up to you again, towering over you as you sat, uneasily at the edge of the bed. He raised a hand and tapped the side of your head three times, “Use that political science knowledge I paid for.”

And then he left, making you feel like a tool.

You dressed yourself in the green gown, put on simple yet elegant makeup, and wore your dyed black hair up with a silver sun pin that your brother had picked out in his words, “to honor Roynar Industries.” You only felt branded.

Making your way down into the large event room of the hotel in which Targ Corp had set up for the celebration, you were handed a glass of something in a flute glass. The waiter had told you, in truth, but you were too nervous and occupied with looking elegant that you hadn’t really heard.

You spotted your brother across the event space standing with someone Martel from Roynar Industries that has offered for you to go ride on his yacht with him at least three times. Then you could see he was with some silver haired man, probably from Targ Corp. The Targaryens were known for their loyalty, ruthlessness and silver hair. Targ Corp. was the most powerful company in Westeros, they had their hand in everything and could turn anyone’s head the way they wanted. Coming it second was Roynar Industries and the old saying, “Keep your friends close and your enemies closer,” was prevalent in the relationship with the two corporations. They worked together in most large projects in Westeros and you knew the each of them was waiting for the other to fall.

You walked the perimeter of the event, scanning the crowd for someone you knew or the person you were after. Although, you had heard Aemond Targaryen’s name before you had no idea what he looked like. You used your context clues though and assumed he had silver hair, he was probably tall and lean like all Targaryen men are and most likely flirtatious.

“Great,” you breathe, remembering a girl from Sunspear a few years ago that recalled a horrible relationship with an older man by the name of “Aegon Targaryen.” One in which he not only expected sex from her, he cheated when she refused. You briefly wondered how Aemond was related to this Aegon.

“Are you looking for me?” A deep, soft voice sounded beside your ear. You stopped dead in you tracks and turned like a scared bunny to the stranger.

The stranger. The silver haired stranger who checked nearly all your boxes for the stranger you were searching for. Had he been right?

You gathered your composure quickly, “And you are?”

“I’m assuming the man you’re looking for if you’re his sister,” he pointed behind you to your brother who was not chatting up a dark haired lady and a curly haired man with a cane.

You gave a quick, nervous laugh and stuck out your hand, “Nice to meet you, Aemond. I’m Y/N.”

Aemond looked down at your outstretched hand between the two of you, his his eye flicked up to you. You realized then, only one moved, however, the other, the one that intercepts his scar, is quite realistic. He ran his fingers slowly across your palm before grasping it gently but not shaking. The act was sensual and strange, you tried to pull away but he quickly snaked his hand up your arm and wrapped his large hand around your bicep, pulling you closer to him. He leaned in, “Aren’t you tired of being a pawn for your brother?”

You pulled back to look at him square in the face, at his perfect, angular face that was so sharp. “What the fuck do you mean?” You whispered, wondering what all he knew and how.

“I think you know exactly what I mean.” He whispered into your ear. If you had not been in the edge of the event, you two would be quite a spectacle to behold but someone, this man, this stranger, had planned this. He had to. You were both in the shadows, the outskirts, not to be seen unless looked for and Gods, you hoped someone would look for you. He made you uneasy, uncomfortable, and warm in places you shouldn’t be given the circumstance of your situation. He looked down to your cleavage, “Tell me, did he pick out this dress? This color?”

You furrowed your brows, trying to figure out how Aemond knew this. “Wha-“

“Did he tell you that him and his colleagues have a bet if we’ll fuck tonight or not?”

You looked back to your brother who was laughing with some of his associates from Roynar Industries. “How do you-“

“I have eyes and ears everywhere, I’m two steps ahead of him and always have been. He has such a problem being number two doesn’t he?” His voice was thick with hatred and his grip on your arm was bruising.

“Get the fuck off of me!” You just about screamed, pushing from Aemond. He let go and took a step back, look at you up and down. He resembled a wild predator, maybe that’s what he was. You smoothed your dress, “Fuck you, you stupid bitch,” you spat angrily, adjusting a strap of your dress. “I was just told to be friendly with you. I’m not a sex worker you ass! I wouldn’t fuck you in a million years.” You downed the alcoholic liquid in the glass before setting it on the ground at your feet. Aemond only watched you with a newfound amusement. It made you angrier. “I’m only helping my brother out until I graduate then it’s fuck this place, fuck Westeros and most of all….” You looked him up and down, finally realizing that he was goddamn handsome, dangerously so, if his personality wasn’t so off-putting, “fuck you.”

You stormed away before he could say anything back. You didn’t want to be here anymore, you wanted to return to your room and cry into your pillow until you fell asleep. You were angry and hurt. How could your brother set you up like this? How could a complete stranger be so fucking brash and horrible? How could you be so stupid to believe your brother’s hunger for power would never come to this? Setting you up for his own benefit?

You’re certain your brother saw you in your way out of the venue, he always has tabs on you, but you knew he wouldn’t rush to your aid or to scrutinize you in front of people he wanted to look good for.

You slam your hotel room door and sink against it, hands over your face, crying on the floor. You sit like that for some time before a knock vibrates against your back and rings in your ears.

“Go away,” you try to say through sobs.

The knock comes again.

“I said go away!” Your shout this time is uncomely for a young woman you could hear your brother say in your head but you don’t care.

“It’s Aemond,” come the voice from the other side of the door.

The raises a fire in your heart as you angrily fling the door open to see the posh, pissy man from before. Mascara is running down your cheeks and your hair is falling out of its updo but you don’t care. “Go away,” you remind him dangerously, beginning to slam the door he puts his foot in the way and hand stopping you from breaking his foot ever so casually.

He pushes the door open with ease and steps into the room, making you step back and further. “We both have a problem and I’m here to propose a deal.”

Your brow quirks and your arms cross, “A deal?”

“A deal,” he echos. “I propose that you and I team up, I’ll offer you whatever he did, you offer me information to take your brother down and out.” He takes another step toward you and you take a step back in response, feeling the back of your legs hit the bedside.

“Why would I agree to that? I’m already getting my college paid for and a place to stay during. Why would I agree to everything I have in turn for you to ruin my brother? He’s horrible but I still love him.” You shook your head, “He’s done a lot for me-“

“I can offer more.” He moved in closer, making you lean uncomfortably against the bed.

“I don’t know you-“

“I will offer you more. You can get to know me, we can form a partnership. A friendship you could call it.” His voice was suggestive.

“Your offer of more is a friendship? I don’t need-“

“I can fuck you, can he?”

His words slapped you across the face. “What?” You mumbled like a dumb baby, confused and shocked. Maybe a little turned on.

Aemond brought his hands up your side and pushed you down to sit on the bed, he kneeled down and kissed the inside of your knee. Everything felt so wrong but he looked so goddamn handsome, you wanted it even if you said you wouldn’t fuck him.

“They have a bet, they want us to fuck.” He explained, “Let’s do it, prove we are into each other. You feed me information on him and the legalities of Roynar Industries.” He kissed your other thigh, you leaned back slightly involuntarily, it had been so long since a man had touched you, your brother wouldn’t allow you to date. “And I’ll slowly give you an out.”

Your breath hitched as his long, slender hand reached under your silky dress and trailed its way toward your core. “Slowly?” You questioned him breathlessly as his his thumb found your clothed clit on contact and began working against it. You could feel wetness pooling as he worked you open and your thighs began to move accommodate him as he moved closer and his other hand slid the dress higher and higher.

“Yeah sweetling, it’ll start with dates, then you staying at my flat in King’s Landing, then moving in.” Your dress was high enough to show off the lacy, black panties you wore and Aemond groaned, making you clench and buck your hips up to meet his ministrations.

“Sounds-sound like,” you were breathless and drunk on the attention he was giving you, “you want more than a fucking spy.” You fully laid back and lifted your hips so Aemond could pull your panties down your legs and off.

He ran a dexterous finger though your folds and watched it disappear into you with ease as you moaned. “Yeah maybe,” his voice was husky, “maybe I like putting your brother in his place. Second to Aemond fucking Targaryen. Always has been, always will be.”

He added a second finger, moving dangerously against your g-spot and the coil in your lower abdomen began to tighten. You lifted your back off the bed in a silent scream as he added a third finger and his mouth sucking at your clit. The intense and sudden pleasure gave way to a sharp, nearly painful orgasm and Aemond fucked you right through it.

When the wave of pressure came down, Aemond lapped at the wetness he expelled from you on your cunt and on his own fingers, moaning at the taste.

You laid on your back, trying to regain your senses and trying to remind yourself you were fucking a complete stranger, you should stop here before it was too late but you snapped out of your senses as he rose, half nude already and unzipping his black dress pants, pulling them and his underwear off in one swipe to reveal the longest, thickest cock you’d ever seen. The idea of taking such a thing inside you made you nearly swell with pride and excitement at the opportunity.

Aemond saw the look on your face and gave his hard cock a quick stroke. “Are you on birth control?”

You shook your head, “He wouldn’t let me, said the side effects are too dang-“

“Well I don’t have a condom,” he said, climbing atop you and pushing you up the bed, not giving you a choice, another reason to get the fuck out now. “I’m clean,” he offered before biting your collarbone then kissing the bite mark.

“I’m-I’m clean.” The voices in your head telling you to get out now.

He moved to the other side of your head and kissed your neck sensually, “You want me to fuck you raw?” Practically growling into your artery as he thrust the tip of his hard cock to your clit, making it harder and harder to say no.

“Uh, just, uh, pull out?” You squeaked as he did it again. You just wanted the fucking thing in you already, stretching you out in the way you wanted.

You felt his smile against your skin, “sure thing sweetling,” it sounded unconvincing.

You felt the tip breach you slowly then push forward even slower. Aemond raised to watch himself split you apart, groaning as you pussy sucked him in with a need unknown to you.

When he finally bottomed out, jutting painfully against your cervix he gave you a sound to adjust and gods, was he fucking endowed. You felt his cock throbbing with need and you wanted to please him, to let him know you were worthy so you bucked you hips against his and let out a moan at how fucking full you felt.

He only chuckled darkly and began his rough assault on your cunt. Pounding without warning or abandon into your heat, pushing your thighs to your chest and bending you in half, positioning you in a way that had him hitting your spot over and over until were moaning his name and your pussy began to flutter.

“Slow-slow down,” you pleaded, it felt like too much.

“Oh, poor little sister can’t fucking take it?” He once slammed extra hard after his demeaning question, it made you shriek. “Poor baby,” he wiped a tear forming in your eye with a sarcastic worry. “She played with the big dogs and didn’t know what she’s in for-“ he grunted, “you should be lucky I’m not fucking you in the ass.”

He pulled your dress down, ripping the shoulder straps to reveal you tits. Smiling like a wild man, he grasped them both harshly before sticking his tongue out and licking each nipple back and forth, making you squirm and tighten around him. “Fuck,” he groaned.

Then, as if a lightbulb went off, he pulled out and flipped you over, pulling you to your knees and ripping your dress and destroyed bra from your body. He entered you harshly again and pulled your back to his chest. His mouth on your ear, nibbling then biting, “I need to make you mine. Announce your brother who you belong to- who owns you now.”

His hand traveled down your belly to the bulge of his cock outlined in your lower stomach. “Do you feel me? Do you feel me up there? Feel me practically in your womb?”

You could, it was painful the way he bullied your cervix but the way he pleasured your sweet spot made you clench and fight off an orgasm that waited to burst.

He laughed into your ear, “Fuck, cum on this cock, I know you need to. Come on me and I’ll give you what you need.”

What the fuck did he mean what you need?

But that didn’t matter, he brought his hand to play with your clot as his pounding continued and you couldn’t fight off the orgasm anymore. Your body tightened and the coil snapped, pulsing around his cock, milking it, you screamed his named and he pinched your nipples as you came on his cock.

I’m your haze, he slowly let you fall to to bed as your ass remained up, his hands firmly handing you in place. “Such a good girl. A better girl than I’d thought you’d be. Oh, a perfect girl for me.” His pounding was relentless as he chase his own high.

You barely registered him saying, “Oh gods, we’ll be perfect together,” before you felt him still behind you, then the pulsing of his cock as warmth flooded you. He let out a groan, a triumphant groan, as he came inside you.

A shaking sob left you as you realized you’d been tricked, betrayed again, used again.

He stayed inside you for some time before pulling his softened cock out and putting on his clothes. You collapsed onto the bed, feeling the evidence of his orgasm slowly slide from your body. You grabbing the pillow ahead of you and hid your face in it. That was, until you felt his hand caress your nude back and the bed shift with the weight of him sitting beside you.

“Hey sweetheart, it’s okay. Don’t cry. I need to know you’re gonna remember our agreement.”

You furrowed your brows, “Fuck you, there is no agreement anymore. You lied to me.”

Aemond chuckled and pushed a strand of hair from your face, “Think of it as the lesser of two evils. Marry me and have everything you’d ever wanted or keep being a pawn for your brother.”

“You’re nuts if you think I’d marry you after a single fuck.”

He looked back down to your thighs, where his seed slowly seeped out, then back to you with a smug grin. “I think your brother would kill you if it was all over the press that you suddenly fell pregnant and unwed. We all know he’s a religious freak now.”

You furrowed your brows, “I’m buying emergency contraceptive as soon as you leave this room.”

He chuckled, “I’m not leaving then.”

“Who said I’ll get pregnant anyway?” You were angry, so angry you couldn’t make sense of his hand sneaking up your neck, holding it tightly.

“My father owns the press. If they say you are, then you are. Imagine what your mother would think, your father? Oh, your reputation would be ruined and your brother would be embarrassed of you.” He grit through his teeth, “And I’ll have people watch you, I already do. They give me updates, they follow you, they’ll know, I’ll know if you are. And then,” he let go of your neck, “You won’t have a choice. I won’t give you one.”

“You’re a fucking psycho.”

He chuckled, running his fingers along your arm, “I’m the easy choice. I’ll give you everything, just give me yourself.”

#fanfic #house of the dragon #a song of ice and fire #gameofthrones #smut #aemond targaryen #game of thrones #aemond x you #aemond one eye #hotd aemond #aemond fanfiction #aemond smut #aemond x reader #house of the dragon aemond #aemond #prince aemond #hotd modern au #hotd smut #hotd fanfic

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velaryon-seahores · 6 months

Text

Eclipsed Love Part IV

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Fem!reader ( modern au )

Warning : Angst, hurt/comfort, flashbacks to having sex

Word count : 5.5k

A/n : Soo sorry for the long delay! Hope this chapter was worth the wait. Likes comments and reblogs are highly appreciated ❤️!

Soldiers are commonly depicted as symbols of both mental and physical strength. When people seek to convey strength, they frequently draw a comparison to a soldier. Yet, in Lucerys' contemplations, he believed soldiers should not be the symbols of strength; rather, it should be mothers.

He observed you with a heavy heart, as weariness etched across your face, your eyes carrying the weight of countless tears shed in silence last night. The energy to tend to your own basic needs had abandoned you; you simply lay on his bed, suppressing your sobs to avoid disturbing him and Qoren. Yet when Lucerys confessed his own fatigue, you cradled him as if you'd just brought him into this world, gently placing him on the sink to wash his face and brush his teeth, tending to him as if he were a toddler learning life's simplest tasks.

In Lucerys' violet gaze, you were the epitome of strength, the most resilient soul he'd ever known. You had carried the burden of so much, pushing your own pain aside to be there for him. Who could do such a thing? Certainly not him; in your place, he might have neglected his own children, focusing solely on his own mental well-being. Oddly enough, that's precisely what he wanted for you now – to focus on yourself.

And yet, here you were, tending to him even though he hadn't asked for it. His intended destination was Qoren's side, but when you asked, he couldn't refuse your unspoken plea.

Seeing you in such agony tore at his heart; he couldn't bear to witness his mother in pain. Your suffering felt like his own, and he couldn't help but wonder that maybe, just maybe, it was somehow his fault.

If only he had not collapsed that day and if only his his heart hadn't betrayed him, you wouldn’t have to face his jerk of a father. You wouldn’t have to fear the possibility of him leaving you alone and sleeping forever. Perhaps you'd be comfortably settled on the couch, surrounded by your writings, ready to share them with him later when they were finished. Or maybe you'd be planning a surprise trip to the water park, just as you did after every single one of his birthdays as an extra surprise, but he had shattered those possibilities, forcing you to confront someone you never wanted to see and think that you might have to lose him.

Pushing your hands away from his mouth, he spat in the sink, his eyes meeting yours, and in that moment, he wrapped you in a sudden, tight embrace.

As he suddenly embraced you, his tiny arms wrapped tightly around your neck, his lips pressing softly against your cheek, you found yourself not bewildered by the sudden affection, but rather perplexed by his next words. "When I grow up and become an astronaut, the first thing I will do is take you to Neptune," he declared with a mixture of earnest determination and childlike innocence.

Your brows furrowed as you gently drew back, setting down the toothbrush with a clink on the sink. Cupping his pale face in your hands, you gazed at him, the weariness in your voice baring the raw edges of your emotion, your throat strained and sore from the relentless tears. "Why is that?" you managed to inquire.

So no one can harm you," he explained, his voice tinged with a conviction that belied his tender years. "Neptune is far away from the earth, and I know your feelings will be protected. It's cold, yes, and I know you hate the cold, but I will build a heating system for you, so no need to worry about that."

His words struck a chord within you, causing your eyes to well up with tears. You leaned forward, your forehead gently meeting his, your noses brushing together like a tender echo from the past when he was just a few months old. You were lost for words, overwhelmed by the depth of love and care emanating from your young son.

It wasn't his duty to protect you. It was your duty to shield him from the cruelties of the world. Your ten-year-old boy shouldn't be burdened with the weight of safeguarding his mother's heart.

"And leave me alone there?" you managed to whisper, your gaze soft but pained as you peered at him through damp lashes.

"It depends," he responded.

"On what?" you asked, while stroking his cheeks with your thumbs.

"Do I hurt you? Because if I do, then I will not come with you. That will defy the point of why I will take you there in the first place," he explained with a wisdom that seemed too mature for his years.

"Never," you whispered, a soft gasp escaping your lips as you affirmed your unwavering trust in him. Lucerys himself never inflicted any pain upon you; it was the mere resemblance to a man you once loved with all your heart that caused you such anguish and the fact that despite your best efforts in raising him, he turned out to be a mini Aemond not mini you.

Lucerys nodded, withdrawing from your embrace to turn on the faucet. You assumed he was just washing his mouth, but to your surprise, he wetted his small hands and then turned to you, gently cleaning your face.

You let out a low chuckle, stepping back slightly. "What are you doing?" you inquired.

But Lucerys didn't join in your laughter. His expression was one of genuine concern as he looked at you. "You always look after me; you don't have any breaks. Let me take care of you this time. You're tired as well, I can see it, Mum."

"It's not your job, Luke!" you protested, your voice tinged with a mixture of love and exasperation.

"It's going to be," he shrugged with a determined glint in his eye. "When you're old and grey and wearing adult diapers all the time because you can't control yourself anymore, might as well let me practice!" He wiggled his brows playfully, attempting to coax a smile from you.

For some reason, you acquiesced, stepping back and allowing him to gently clean your face, just as he had done minutes earlier. Perhaps it was because you had always longed for someone to care for you, or perhaps it was the little girl inside you who hadn't received enough motherly care, and so she allowed her son to play that role, a role she'd had to take on at a young age.

Lucerys cleaned your face tenderly, and as he did, tears once again began to flow. Lucerys brushed them away and kissed every tear. You chuckled sadly because this was precisely what father used to do when you cried; he would kiss your tears away.

Lucerys extended his hand, motioning for you to part your lips. As if you were a toddler who couldn't understand words, and he carefully brushed your teeth.

After he had finished tending to you, you gently scooped him up into your arms and carried him to the comforting embrace of the bed, gently placing him on it.

"I love you, Mum. You are the best." Lucerys said with a warm comforting smile.

His words echoed in your heart as you looked at him, your eyes reflecting a mix of emotions—gratitude, love, and a profound sadness that this young boy felt compelled to fill the void left by a man who had once promised the same but had failed you so miserably. Your voice was soft, "I love you too, Luke."

You reached for his iPad, placed on the table, and handed it over to him before heading toward the closet to fetch some fresh clothes for your much-needed, hot, and relaxing shower. However, a knock on the door interrupted your plans.

"Qoren?" Lucerys exclaimed with enthusiasm, thinking that Qoren had returned from the meeting concerning the lawsuit against him filed by the hospital for attacking Aemond.

"No, my love, Qoren doesn't knock," you pointed out.

"Yeah, that's right, totally forgot," he pouted before putting on his space-themed headphones and immersing himself in a YouTube video, likely something related to obscure Star Wars facts.

You closed the closet door, adjusted your hair, and pulled your robe tighter around you. As you reached for the doorknob and opened it, a sight you thought you'd never see again greeted you. Your best friend, or rather your ex-best friend, Helaena, stood before the door, nervously holding her olive-green butterfly-printed skirt and biting her lips.

"Helaena..." you breathed out in disbelief, your eyes widening. A strangled cry escaped her lips as she launched forward and embraced you tightly. You didn't know what to do, so you hesitantly hugged her back.

Tears streamed down Helaena's cheeks as she choked out her question, "Why did you leave me?" Her sobs echoed with the weight of a decade's worth of confusion, hurt, and longing.

You were her only best friend. From the moment you met in kindergarten, your lives had been entwined like vines, inseparable and intertwined in countless ways. You played together on the swings, studied side by side in the classroom, went shopping, and even slept over at each other's houses more often than your own. The two of you had made vows to be lifelong friends, from college to sharing the same dorm room, and eventually, moving into the same apartment after graduation. The two of you had pledged to live out your lives together, just as you had promised one another when you were in the third grade. And in your future, your children were meant to grow up together, forming the same kind of deep bond that you and Helaena had.

But here she was, betrayed by you leaving her for something she had nothing to do with. And here you were, feeling too awkward to hug her back.

She stepped away, and as she distanced herself from you, you saw the raw hurt in her eyes. The pain and betrayal were etched deep within, and it was clear that her heart was still entangled in the web of emotions that had been severed ten years ago. She waited, her heart aching, for answers she had yearned for all this time, answers that had left her with a perpetual sense of abandonment.

You couldn't find the words to explain the unexplainable, the tangled mess of emotions that had driven you to disappear from her life. How could you answer the question she had carried with her for a decade? How could you say, “Sorry, I didn't tell you I was pregnant with your brother's child and needed help aborting it because you're Aemond's sister, and I was so mad and hurt by him that I wanted nothing to do with either of you anymore"?

Helaena, however, refused to accept silence as an answer. "You owe me an answer," she declared, her voice trembling with frustration. Her lips quivered, and her brows furrowed in heartbreak. She fiercely wiped away her tears and held onto the fabric of her skirt, her anguish laid bare for you to see.

You couldn't bear to add more pain to her already wounded heart, so you stepped back and shook your head, a solemn refusal. "I don't owe anyone an explanation."

"No, you don't owe Aemond an explanation, you don't owe your parents an explanation, but you owe me!" Helaena's frustration escalated. "I didn't do anything to you. I didn't hurt you, I didn't get you pregnant and left you. I wasn't even at school that day. I was getting my wisdom tooth removed! When I returned home and woke up, I saw Aemond crying, telling me you left! You owe me an answer, Y/N," she cried out, her voice a desperate plea, and her heartbreak echoed through the hallway “ You owe me! “

Trapped within your own emotions, you couldn't help but question why your past was haunting you at this particular moment, a time already fraught with emotional turmoil.

"I don't have an answer," you confessed, your voice heavy with unresolved pain. You clutched your robe tighter, your eyes welling up with tears for the umpteenth time in the last two days. Your gaze shifted away from Helaena, avoiding not only her but also the nurses and doctors who passed by, their curious gazes adding to the mounting pressure.

However, you underestimated Helaena's understanding of you. She knew you better than you knew yourself, and the evasion in your voice only hinted that an answer lay beneath the surface, unspoken, but perhaps too overwhelming to share. You had just confronted your ex-boyfriend a day ago, a man who had caused you profound hurt, and now you were facing Helaena, your hopefully still-best friend, while knowing that you would soon meet her mother as well.

Helaena simply nodded, her eyes fixed on her own feet, sniffing back her tears. "Can I meet him at least?"

"I will have to ask him first," you replied, wiping your own tears. You didn't mind Helaena meeting your son; in fact, you had hoped that if Lucerys ever sought his paternal family, he would find her first.

"I'll wait here,"

You nodded and entered Lucerys's room, closing the door behind you. You leaned against it for a few moments, trying to regain your composure before walking over to Lucerys's bed.

Lucerys gazed at you with concern, immediately removing his headphones and sitting up straight. He set down his iPad and reached for your hands.

You took his hands in yours and ruffled his hair with your free hand. You moistened your lips and said, "There's someone outside who wants to see you." Your expression turned sad, as you knew that in an alternate world, where Lucerys had the big family he wished for, Helaena would have been his favorite. Their shared love for nature and the outdoors would have drawn them close. "Do you want to meet them?"

"Who?" he asked with a hint of confusion.

"Your aunt," you replied, a word he had never truly experienced before. In his life, "aunts" had come and gone as Qoren's fleeting girlfriends, never truly embracing him as family. A real aunt was an entirely different concept, and you watched as the idea began to form in his young mind.

"Can you give me my helmet?" he asked, which in lucerys dictionary, means yes.

You nodded and retrieved his space helmet from the closet. After helping him put it on, you walked back to the door, slowly opening it to find Helaena rehearsing what she might say to him.

Once she noticed you, you gestured for her to come in.

She clutched her skirt nervously as she walked in, feeling a mix of emotions—nervousness, uncertainty, happiness, and sadness. Meeting her nephew was a bittersweet moment, given the ten years of lost memories.

Lucerys lay on his bed, his arms crossed and knees drawn up to his chest. His own emotions were a complex mix.

You watched as Helaena approached his bedside with her hands held above her heart. A sad smile crept across her face as she knelt down beside the bed, whispering, "Hi! I'm Helaena, your aunt! But...but you can call me Hel."

Lucerys opened his helmet, inspecting her with curiosity before glancing at you. You nodded, encouraging him to respond. He turned his attention back to Helaena and replied, "Nice to meet you, Helena."

"I like your helmet," she commented, her lower lip nervously caught between her teeth. "It's very, very pretty."

"Thank you," Lucerys said. "I like your skirt as well."

And so, as you watched, the two of them, just as you had expected, began to connect, their conversation revolving around space and insects, bonding over the shared wonder of the world they both loved.

"God, you are so fucking hot," Aemond growled, his voice filled with raw desire, as you straddled him. His fingers tightened gently around the back of your neck, a mix of possession and tenderness. He nipped and kissed a trail of soft, wet caresses along your neck, your chin, your collarbone, and finally found your lips, eliciting a loud sultry moan from you.

Simultaneously, his other hand explored the lush softness of your thigh, fingers glided along the expanse of your thigh, savouring the softness and thickness, as if memorizing every contour and curve.

Aemond fell against the pillows of your bed, his fingers intertwined with yours, while his gaze remained transfixed by the captivating dance of your body above him. His eyes reflected a mesmerizing fusion of desire, awe, and affection as he watched you move with grace. How your breasts swayed enticingly, and how your beautiful dark brown hair framed your face and clung to your flushed skin and it seemed like you were glowing in the dimly lit room.

With rapt attention, he traced every curve and contour of your body, his gaze inevitably returning to the captivating allure of your rounded, heavy breasts. Possessively, he guided your hands to rest on his chest before his fingers squeezed your breasts with an intensity that coaxed passionate moans and cries from your lips.

Suddenly, your movements paused, and his response was a desperate, guttural whine. Aware of your fatigue, as your trembling legs betrayed, he acted swiftly. He flipped you over, taking control. With a few more powerful thrusts, both of you were broken to the peak of ecstasy simultaneously, moaning each other’s name out loud.

Breathless and sated, he collapsed upon you, bodies sheened in a glistening coat of shared sweat. Skin pressed against skin, your ragged breaths synchronized as you slowly descended from your euphoric heights.

"Your breasts feel larger than usual," Aemond murmured, barely moving from his position but lowering himself to nestle his face in the valley between your breasts.

His eyes closed, and a soft whimper escaped his lips as he felt the tender caress of your fingers massaging his scalp. "They do, don't they?" he heard you say, a playful chuckle dancing in your voice. "They hurt too."

Opening his eyes, he peered up at you, brows furrowing with concern. "Did I hurt you? When I squeezed them?" he inquired, his gaze searching your face for any sign of discomfort.

"In a good way," you reassured him with a captivating smile, your teeth once again teasing your lower lip. Your hands moved to gently stroke his cheeks, conveying your deep satisfaction “ Very, very good way “

A mischievous glint sparked in his eyes, and a wicked smirk tugged at the corners of his lips. Without hesitation, his hand moved, seizing one of your breasts with a fervent grip, causing you to release an unrestrained, impassioned moan that reverberated through the room.

"Let's go again," he purred, his desire reigniting just by gazing at you.

A mischievous giggle escaped your lips as you placed your palms on his flushed cheeks. "My parents are coming soon."

"It will be quick, I promise!" he assured, shifting his weight to align himself with your entrance.

"Nothing is quick about yo—" you began, but your words were stolen by a sharp gasp as he impaled himself inside you. His devilish grin widened as he sensed your attempt to flip him over once more, allowing you to take charge, fully aware of your preference for control, which he found himself than willing to indu—

“ Aemond! “ Aemond's eye snapped open as he heard his mother scream his name. In his groggy state, he was momentarily confused, his dreams merging with reality. He sighed in annoyance once he realized he had been having a flashback dream of the last time the two of you had been together intimately.

He thanked the gods for the dark room and the fact that helaena wasn't here and that he was laying on his side, he quickly sat up and covered his erection with a pillow.

Alicent gazed at him with a mixture of fear and concern, her hands moving to flick on the lights as she gasped in shock at the sight of his battered face. She hurried to his side, eager to embrace him, but Aemond pushed her away, his mind still reeling from the torment of his dream and the ache between his legs.

Her fury at him, for concealing the truth about his son, had been a blazing fire within her. She had intended to unleash her wrath upon him the moment she laid eyes on him, but all of that dissipated when she beheld her son, her beloved boy, his face marred with bruises and blood. The anger dissolved, replaced by a flood of concern and motherly love, though she planned to resume her ire once she knew he was safe.

"What happened?" she implored, her worry palpable. Aemond shook his head, the weariness evident in his every move. He didn't have the energy to discuss it, or anything for that matter. All he wanted was to be left alone, to crawl into a ball and wallow in self-loathing and remorse, to berate himself for the pain he had caused, and to wish desperately for your comforting presence—to feel your touch, hear your soothing words, and have you guide him through his anguish. But he knew the closest he would get to that comfort was in his dreams.

"I'm going to sue whoever did this to you!" Alicent vowed, her gaze scanning his wounded face, her heart aching for her dear son, the depth of her love overshadowing her anger.

"The hospital already sued him," Aemond muttered, his voice drained of all emotion. "Mother, I'm not in the mood right now. Please, let me rest." His words held a truth that extended beyond the physical pain, intertwining with the emotional torment he felt deep within. "I'm fine," he added, although he was anything but. Nothing felt fine, and the abyss within him seemed to grow deeper and darker after what you had revealed to him the previous night. He knew that he would never feel whole again, not after the pain he had inflicted upon you.

“Why didn't you tell me, Aem?" Alicent's tears flowed freely down her cheeks. "Why would you hide such a thing from me?"

Aemond met his mother's gaze, his eye glistening with unshed tears. Why indeed, Aemond? Why didn't you confide in her? Why didn't you let her help? Perhaps, in a different reality, you would have been married by now, living in the dream house in Dragonstone that you both had envisioned. Maybe you would have been happily raising Lucerys, guiding him through life's ups and downs, and watching with joy as he welcomed little sisters into the world. You might have been truly happy once more, just as you had been with her. She would have been happy too.

"I would have helped you both," she said, taking his hands in hers, her voice laced with sorrow. "I would have taken care of him until the two of you graduated."

"I was scared," Aemond sobbed, launching himself into his mother's embrace. "I was scared."

"Don't you think she was scared too?" Alicent whispered, her voice tinged with understanding. She had experienced the fear and uncertainty of young motherhood herself when she gave birth to Aegon at her age. She comprehended Aemond's panic, the emotions he faced at that time. But what she couldn't fathom was why he hadn't confided in anyone until it was too late. Why did he tell Helaena when you were already gone? Why hadn't he reached out for help when he needed it the most?

"Where is he?" she inquired, drawing Aemond back slightly to search his eye, disappointment shadowing her features. Disappointment—a look he had never seen in her eyes before. Disappointment he would hate himself for as soon as she left the room. Disappointment he would cry over in the bathroom "With his... mother.”

"Which room?"

Aemond directed her to the room and watched as his mother left without saying anything more. The pain of seeing his mother's disappointment was a new kind of torture, one he believed he truly deserved.

Alicent stood behind the door to your room, allowing herself a moment to weep. She needed to cry before seeing her grandson. She didn't want her tears to darken the already somber atmosphere inside the room. She had cried during her entire journey—packing her bag, at the airport, on the plane, and on her way to your place. Yet, she couldn't stop herself from crying. It was a mix of emotions and unshed expectations that had built up for over a decade.

She had always believed that Aemond and you would bless her with grandchildren someday. A dream she never truly expected to come to fruition given the hardships her own children faced during their tumultuous upbringing. Yet, when she witnessed how Aemond spoke about you, how he described your beauty, perfection, and all the qualities he admired in you, she was certain that her dream was inching closer to reality.

She had cherished her own grandmother and had always aspired to be like her, yet the realization that she had been a grandmother for ten years without even knowing it now tormented her. She had never played a role in her grandson's life, a thought that weighed heavily on her heart as she struggled to compose herself. Her heart ached for you, as she imagined that you might hate her for something she had no part in. Nevertheless, she wiped her tears away, adjusted herself, and knocked on the door.

You had been prepared for her visit, as Helaena had informed you of her mother's impending arrival. As you opened the door, you weren't taken aback. You had contemplated countless scenarios while taking a shower, rehearsing how this encounter might unfold. You had no doubt that Alicent meant you no harm. She loved you, and she had always been kind and caring. She felt like a second mother to you, having played a significant role in raising you.

Alicent had always considered you her own child. She knew your likes, your interests, the people you despised at school, your hobbies, and your dreams for the future. She cried just as much as your mother did when you disappeared. She prayed daily for your safety and well-being, never forgetting about you.

"Did you become a writer?" was her first question, her hands clasped to her cheeks as she regarded you with a mix of awe and shock at the graceful woman you had become.

"Unfortunately, no," you replied with a tremor in your voice, accompanied by a faint, self-deprecating laugh. "I'm a secretary."

"Come here," she said, pulling you into a warm embrace, and both of you began to cry.

After she stepped back, she brushed away your tears. "Look at you, a mother, and a beautiful one at that! Your mother would be so proud of you!"

"I doubt that," you replied sadly, your lips twisting downward as you recalled the hurtful words your mother would have likely used to describe you.

"Nonsense! She would," Alicent insisted, drawing you closer to her once more, allowing you to rest your head against her chest as if you were still a young girl confiding in her about your worries in Aemond's absence.

A moment of silence ensued before Alicent proposed meeting Lucerys, to which you agreed. Together, you entered the room. When Alicent's eyes fell upon Lucerys, her breath caught in awe. She gasped softly, covering her mouth with her hands and startling both Lucerys and Helaena who were watching something on his ipad. She then placed her hands on her heart and watched him with shining eyes.

With eyes reminiscent of yours and a shade of violet akin to Aemond's, he bore Aemond's nose, lips, and chin, along with your brown hair peppered with strands of silver that curled just like yours. Turning to you, she observed you through glossy, tear-filled eyes. "That's my grandson?" she asked, and you nodded in affirmation.

"He's beautiful," she murmured, her voice quivering. She turned to him. "He's so beautiful." Indeed, he surpassed even her wildest imaginations, a sight that moved her to tears once more.

You couldn't help but notice the tears welling up in Lucerys's eyes. He bit his lip, fighting to hold back the tears. This was overwhelming, but in the best possible way. He had a grandmother and an aunt now—a wish he had made in letters to Santa, trying to behave well to earn it. A big family, that's what he wished for. Although he was content with you and Qoren as his family, he yearned for more. He wished for a big family with relatives to visit during the holidays, cousins to play with, and to create fond memories with.

Alicent approached the bed slowly, her eyes locked onto Lucerys. Helaena stood up, giving her mother space to sit on the bed, and she joined you, her own eyes misty with tears at the heartwarming scene before her.

Alicent's heart ached as tears streamed down her cheeks, her trembling fingers tracing the contours of his face, his hair, and the tiny arms that nestled in her embrace. It was a bittersweet awe that gripped her soul, for only yesterday had she learned of her precious grandchild's existence.

No, this wasn’t supposed to be how they met for the first time.

She should have been there from the very beginning, welcoming him into the world with open arms. The grandmother who clung to her sweet boy, refusing to let anyone else hold him. The one who insisted he wear the traditional Targaryen baby clothing for that all-important first picture. She should have been the loving hand behind his school lunches, slipping him cookies made with boundless love. She should have been the fierce defender, the guardian he could always hide behind, knowing that granny would protect him. She should have annoyed his parents with her natural remedies when he fell ill, resisting any doctor's intervention, because grandma knew best. She should have witnessed his first day of kindergarten, capturing a million pictures of him in front of that classroom door to adorn her living room.

Her lips quivered as they turned downwards, her brows knitting in sorrow. Lucerys was her first grandchild, her first grandson, and her heart ached for the moments they should have shared.

She wondered, amidst her overwhelming emotions, if it was possible to love someone so intensely after just five fleeting minutes. For now, she had declared Lucerys as her favorite, her heart's sole occupant, her sweet boy.

"You have my curls," she whispered to him through tears, her voice catching in her throat. She chuckled amidst the sobs as she unraveled her own hair. "See?" She brought her hair closer to his tiny locks. "You have granny's hair!"

It was a bittersweet revelation—happy that he had inherited something from her, yet a pang of anger swelled within. Her own mother had always said that the first grandchild usually resembled their grandmothers, but Lucerys was a copy of Aemond at his age.

Lucerys couldn't hold back his tears any longer. His voice shook as he spoke, confessing, "I thought I got it from Mum." As his emotions overwhelmed him, you took a step toward him, prepared to offer a comforting embrace. However, he crumbled before you could reach him, and Alicent drew him closer, rocking him gently as he wept.

"That's my hair," Alicent exclaimed, planting kisses all over Lucerys' head, and running her fingers through hid hair.

You observed your son's arms gradually encircling her, and you watched as Alicent pulled him back, gently kissing his tears away.

A smile graced your lips at the touching sight before you. It was clear now where Aemond and Lucerys inherited this move. It runs in the family.

A/n: again sorry for the late update, life is crazy over here. Anyway the next chapter mother alicent will force mc, luke, qoren, aemond and helaena to have a picnic on the beach. It will be funny and more comedic then the previous chapters and also more mc and aemond having a kind of normal conversation???

Taglist : @exitpursuedbyavulcan @echos-muses @namelesslosers @khaleesihel @spinachtz @t0uch-starved-h0e @avitute @siriusblackrunmeover17 @mrstargayen09 @minttea07 @introverbatim @love-romancebooks @betelrus @julczimozart @mothertower @persephonerinyes @kravitzwhore @aleqahx @boofy1998 @happinessinthebeing @aleemendoza2425-blog @nockerin @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @urmomsgirlfriend1 @snh96 @zenka69 @toodlesxcuddles @lunamoonbby @multiple-fandoms-girl @t0uch-starved-h0e @joliettes @tsujifreya @afro-hispwriter @carriellie @verena-targaryen-writes @watercolorskyy @notnormalthings-blog @bluevxnus @queenofshinigamis @betelrus @mothertower @brianochka @saminalloxo @daenerysqueenofhearts @dc-marvel-girl96 @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @cyeco13 @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @girlwith-thepearlearring @strangersunghoon @alurafairy

My apologies If I forget anyone, I try to remember as much as I can

#aemond x fem!reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond x you #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen angst #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen smut #aemond fic #prince aemond #aemond targaryen #house of the dragon aemond #alicent hightower #helaena targaryen #aemond modern au #hotd modern au

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lcverwrites · 8 months

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bad for business ― aegon x reader, aemond x reader (modern au)

summary … aemond sees something he wasn't supposed to...or was he? pairings … aegon targaryen x tyrell!reader, aemond targaryen x tyrell!reader warnings ... smut, unprotected sex, voyeurism, public sex, aemond being a but of a creep (but not non-con), aegon being a little shit, unhealthy family dynamics note … here's a little something that i cooked up a bit ago, i've been working on possibly making this some kind of series between aegon x reader x aemond, so let me know if you wanna see a possible part two!

⠀⠀⠀Aemond's hand clenched around the brass handle, the cool metal biting the rough texture of his palm, but the cold was the last thing on his mind.

The lighting was dim in the room, muted almost, a sconce on the wall offered a shimmer of yellow light, enough for Aemond's good eye to lock onto the two bodies pressed against the pale wall.

Perhaps he should have known.

Should have realised what he might have been walking into, when his mother asked him to go searching for his missing brother. An inkling of mockery lingering in the back of his mind, taunting him with the logical thought of the kind of person his brother was.

And there was a small part of Aemond that hoped his brother was just running behind, fiddling with his appearance, as he often is.

But nothing could have prepared his mind for the sight before him.

Aegon's dishevelled dress shirt was untucked from his black suit pants, unbuttoned and half pushed down his shoulders. Aemond could only see his brother's back, the once crisp white shirt, was wrinkled beyond repair.

But that was only the first thing Aemond noticed.

The second was the smooth leg wrapped around his brother's waist. Barely a glimpse of green silk slithered around the leg, the fabric was so dark that one might have mistaken it for black, but Aemond knew that dark emerald green colour well. Strapped to the foot, of the leg wrapped around his brother's leg, was an elegant black heel, glimmering diamonds adorning the strap of the shoe.

The third, and most important piece of the picture, was the woman Aegon had slanted himself against, the woman who was pressed to the cream coloured wall.

Her slender neck was on full display, head thrown back against the wall beneath her back, full lips parted as a pleased cry fell past her puffy pink lips. The dip of her neck was covered by a chain of diamonds, catching in the yellow light, looking like pools of crystal water around her smooth skin. The chain dipped lower on her skin, curving past her collarbones, slipping below the neckline of the green silk of her dress, resting between the valley of her breast, each deep breath caused her chest to raise, the blood red jewel glowing against her skin.

For whatever reason, Aemond couldn't have imagined this...couldn't have imagined her, the sweetest of flowers, beneath his brother's undeserving hands.

Aegon had his face pressed into her slender neck, mouthing at the smooth skin, faint red marks were etched into her skin, no thanks to Aegon's ravenous attentions. Aegon's once nicely styled hairdo had been ruffled, her fingers threaded in Aegon's ivory strands, tugging him into her body, welcoming his unholy behaviour.

Aegon's hands were wrapped around her waist, palming at the silk covered skin on her waist, nails threatening to tear the flimsy fabric, from where he was stranding, Aemond knew she wouldn’t have protested. The other hand was caressing the smooth skin of her thigh, pushing the fabric of her skirt from his way, allowing more of her skin to be exposed, more for Aegon to get his hands on.

The sound of her breathy whimpers echoed through the empty hall, accompanied with the rhythm of skin meeting skin, slow and methodical slapping that ricocheted off the bare walls.

Aemond could not see where the pair were joined, but the sound was enough for him to know, the pleased look on her face was enough of a sight, Aemond didn’t need to see anymore.

The moment he seemingly made his decision, he watched his brother whisper quiet words into her ear, lips wrapping around the gentle slope of her ear, the light catching the matching red jewels dangling from her ears for a split second, as Aegon’s lips brushed against her ear, her panting stuttered, eyes fluttering open slowly, as if she were remembering where she was, slowing, her head tilted forward.

And in a heart racing moment, her eyes locked with Aemond’s.

Her lips were parted, a sulled moan fell past her lips, but her full attention was now directed on Aemond.

“Fuck” Her voice was breathless, the words barely reached Aemond’s ears, but he knew she was doing it for his benefit.

The grip she had on Aegon’s cropped strands of pale hair tightened, burying his face into the supple skin of her breasts, his lips lapped at the cleavage spilling from beneath her dress, nipples perked and pushing against the now taunt green silk.

“Please” Her voice was louder now, carrying the short length across the hall, allowing Aemond to hear the plea.

Her pleas went straight through Aemond, sinking into his skin, digging her nails beneath the surface and refusing to budge until she drew every last breath from his lungs.

And Aemond knew he would do anything for her.

Her pleasured features were all Aemond could focus on, her eyes were sharp and focused, pupils dilated, clouded with a lustfulled expression. Despite her attention being solely on Aemond, she pulled Aegon closer, her hips canting up to meet his rhythmic thrusts.

As if she were taunting him.

Keeping him at arm's length, while she drew his brother closer, allowing him to destroy the elegant facade she’s painted.

“I want to cum for you, please” She sighed, her lips pursed into a pretty pout, allowing Aemond to take in the abused way his brother had attacked the supple skin, red, raw and utterly alluring.

Only she could look dishevelled, yet sensually elegant at the same time.

He knew he should just close the door, allow the couple their moment alone, and confront them once they were finished, but Aemond couldn’t seem to pick his feet up, rooted to the tacky blue carpet beneath his polished dress shoes.

Not when she was begging for him.

She was being fucked by Aegon, but begging for Aemond.

The irony made him want to laugh, throw his brother from her body and capture her lips for his own, fuck her the way she deserved, not against a wall in a dimly lit hallway, he’d have the decency to worship her where no one else could see her. Allow her to invade his senses, breath in her scent, taste her skin, feel her smooth body beneath his roughened palms, watch as she falls apart by his hand and his hand alone, devour her in a manner that would have her unable to speak anything but his name, like a pray on her lips, for his ears only to hear.

His grip on the door handle grounded his imagination, bringing him back to earth, where he watched her be brought to the precipice of pleasure by another man.

Fate was a cruel woman.

“I want it inside me, I want you inside me” She purred into Aegon’s ear, but her eyes were still on Aemond, inviting him into her inner thoughts, her pleasures, her fantasies…her fantasies of him.

Aemond’s breath hitched in the back of his throat as her face changed, it was subtle, a subdued moan slipped past her lips, catching in the back of her throat. Her brows furrowed slightly, like her focus was slipping away, barely holding on by her fingertips. Her head tilted back, like she wasn’t in control of her body anymore, responding to the rapid motion of Aegon’s hips, drilling faster against her body, shaking her breasts with each bounce, threatening a mouth watering escape. Despite her body moving of his own accord, she kept her hooded gaze on Aemond, as pleasured shocks ran through her body, allowing him a glimpse at this intimate moment.

With Aemond’s watchful gaze keeping close attention to her, she allowed herself to fall off the edge of her pleasure, diving head first into euphoria. The sounds falling from her lips shook Aemond to his core, he felt his slacks tighten, yearning to hear more, to feel more…to feel her.

It was a whimper of a muffled curse, a loud string of pleasured moans, gasping for a breath she couldn’t quite catch, her body tightening, drawing Aegon closer to her, bringing him further into her orbit.

Aegon’s lips twitched into an amused smirk, muttering a few words against her cleavage, words that her faltering for a moment, as if not expecting him to say whatever it was he said.

Her delayed reactions took a moment to really take in what Aegon had said, and he was clearly enjoying taking her off guard, as if he didn’t do it all that often. But the moment of taken abackness washed away, being replaced with a pleading pout.

“Give it to me, please, please” She murmured in a sultry tone, the words spilling from her lips, begging for something Aemond wasn’t privy to.

She made sure to keep eye contact with Aemond as she uttered the next words, and Aemond was lucky he didn’t burst in his dress pants.

“I want you to cum inside me” She pressed the words into Aegon’s ears, but loud enough for Aemond to hear them, to know she was addressing him too. “I want it so bad, please give it to me, please”

Aegon groaned loudly, his hips stilling against her own, her lips ghosting over his reddened cheeks.

Aemond could make out the soft smile tugging at the corners of her lips, amusement painting her flushed features, and to top it all off, she gave Aemond a subtle wink, as if she and he were in on some sort of secret.

Had she really been talking to him, it wasn’t just him imagining it?

“Enjoy the show brother?” Aegon’s lazy drawl entered Aemond’s mind, causing the man to look at his older brother, who was casting a sidelong glance at him, a lazy smirk stretching across his mouth.

“Funny” Aemond hummed gruffly.

He straightened out his shoulders, standing taller than Aegon, ever from where he was standing. He held his hands behind his back, pressing his chest out a little, looking down his nose at his brother, who looked thoroughly amused by his attempt at looking intimidating.

“Mother is looking for you” Aemond’s monotone voice echoed through the hall, the only noise in the empty corridor now.

Aegon let out an amused hum, looking back at her. She offered Aegon a gentle smile, before looking at Aemond, her smile widened and she gave him a soft shrug.

“Sorry, we got a little caught up” She replied in a soft voice, sweet as honey.

“Very caught up” Aegon echoed, a teasing tone to his words.

He finally removed his hand from her thigh, allowing her leg to drop from around his waist. There was a moment where Aemond can only assume Aegon was removing his cock from her, only through the soft squelching sound that followed. A soft giggle passed her lips, cheeks turning a soft pink as she flattened her dress, to look as if she hadn’t just been taken up against a wall.

“Feel free to watch brother, she’s a very pretty girl” Aegon spoke again, zipping up his trousers, while she tried her best to smooth out the wrinkles in his dress shirt, buttoning the shirt up as she moved along.

“Stop it Aegon, leave him alone” She chastised, but her eyes trailed back to Aemond, biting her lips softly as she tried to stifle her smile.

“You can watch” Aegon reiterated, turning around to face Aemond.

His shirt was buttoned up, looking less dishevelled than before, but still not as presentable as he knew their mother would have wanted. She saddled herself to Aegon’s side, sliding an arm around Aegon’s waist, holding herself to his side. Aegon returned the favour by wrapping his arm around her shoulder, fiddling with the thin strap of her dress, as if deciding on actually leaving the room, or going to another round.

“But you know to keep your hands to yourself” Aegon finished, giving Aemond a wide and toothy grin that would have come across as charming, if one didn’t know Aegon well.

It was coated with malice, a warning, to stay away from what was his.

But was she really his, if she was asking for Aemond’s cock?

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ripdragonbeans · 1 month

Text

I Choose You // modern!Aemond x reader

Summary: Aemond comforts you after a nightmare.

CW: p in v, oral f receiving, talk of indefinitely, nightmare, unprotected sex, creampie

As you park the car you let out a long sigh. It's been an exhausting day and you couldn't wait to come home to your dog and a cozy bed. Work had you on your feet all day and it was just a lot.

A cool breeze rushed past as you get out of the car to head into your apartment. As you walk to the building you notice your boyfriend’s car is also parked. Strange, he doesn't come back home until later this afternoon. You brushed the uneasiness aside and continued to the building. Finally unlocking the door after fumbling with the keys you enter the warmth of your apartment.

“Aemond!” You called out. “I'm home, babe!”

No response.

“Aemond?” You slowly turn to walk to your bedroom when you hear it.

Moaning and the creek of the bed.

You close your eyes. “No, gods no,” you whispered to yourself. You steeled your nerves to see the worst when. You open the door to find Aemond and -

“NO!” You wake up in a cold sweat and find hot tears streaming down your cheeks. “No, please,” you whimper.

Shutting your eyes, you reach out blindly to find him, to feel him but there's no need. Aemond is already sitting up, gathering you into his arms.

“Shh, shh. I know,” he whispers.

You can't help the sobs that leave your body. Tears tumble out with no slowing down. You can feel the tightness in your chest. It all seemed real. It was real, years ago, but not with Aemond. Still, the fear of finding Aemond with someone else in the bed you share was still terrifying, even if it were nowhere near true. That fear you have, of him cheating, is all due to your ex, Jason.

That day played out exactly the same way as your dream did. A normal day turned into one of heartbreak.

You finally caught your breath between sobs. “I know you won't - I know you would never, but I just get so scared, Aemond.”

His arms tightened around you as he pulled you in as close as possible. The feel of his body pressed against yours was an immense comfort. Just him, just breathing the scent of him, was enough to help calm yourself.

“What happened to you was horrible and I wish it never happened, love. Know that I am always with you, I will always choose you.”

You burrowed yourself close into him. “I wish I could make them stop. They don't happen all the time but when they do happen they hit me hard.”

You felt him kiss the top of your head before lifting your face up to his.

“If I could kill him for what he did to you, know that I would in a heartbeat. But since I can't,” he kissed your brow. “I'll just have to love you more.”

“Aemond,” you gave him a small smile. “No need to be so dramatic.”

“Ah, but I do, if it means making my love smile.” He pressed a soft kiss to your lips.

As he tried to pull away you cupped his face in your hands. “I need you, Aemond. Is that okay? Can we do this right now?”

He tucked a stray hair behind your ear. “I am always ready for you, my love.”

He pressed his forehead to yours, letting his breathing match your own, before capturing you in a gentle kiss.

This wasn't the time for rough sex; neither of you wanted or needed that now. Right now you just need each other.

Your hands tangled in his messy silver hair as you pulled him closer. His hands gripped your waist as he moved you on top of his lap. You could feel him hard underneath his underwear, already aching for you, just as you were wet and aching for him.

He slipped a hand down to dip beneath the edge of your panties, making you shiver. His fingers made their way down and began moving in soft circles over your clit.

You moaned against his mouth before moving to settle your head against his shoulder.

“Fuck, Aemond,” you whispered.

“Is this what my pretty girl needed?”

Your answer was muffled against his neck as he slowly built up speed. You began rocking your hips to rut against him but as soon you started he stopped.

“Aemond!”

“On your back, my love,” he commanded.

He removed his hand and let you fall back against the pillows.

“Aemond, please I need you.”

“And you'll get me, my dear. Let me do this for you. Let me make you feel good.”

As soon as the last word left his lips, Aemond ducked down to burry his face between your legs. He pushed aside your panties to have access to your weeping cunt.

“So pretty,” he murmured against you.

He licked a strip up from your slit to your clit, the action making your back arch. Aemond held tight, wrapped his arms around your thighs to keep you from moving away. He found your clit and was quick to focus on it. Licking and sucking it, he wanted to hear you moan.

“You taste, so good. Fuck, I need you to cum.”

All you could do was nod your head. Your hands came up to grab at your breasts over your shirt. You needed more. You pinched and pulled at your nipples as Aemond continued to feast on you like a man starved.

It wasn't until he added in two fingers that you started to really rock against him.

“Aemond, please!”

“That's it, my love. Let go.”

Your back arched up as pleasure shot through you. Aemond continued to fuck you with his finger through your orgasm, prolonging it.

Once your body settled down you pulled Aemond up to trap him in a passionate kiss. The taste of yourself in him drove you mad.

You began pulling down his briefs when he chuckled. “Eager, are we?”

You leaned in close to him. “I need you to fuck me into this bed right now.”

His eyes darkened. “As you wish,” he whispered.

He fully ditched his briefs and tugged you over to him. His cock was hard and red at the tip, weeping with precum. Your mouth watered at this sight of him; you'd never tire of seeing him like this.

Gladly, you spread your legs for him and played with your clit. Aemond was quick to slap your hand away.

“No touching. I'm going to make you feel good. Only me. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Aemond.”

“Good girl.”

He rubbed the head of his cock against your clit and it took all the effort your had not to push yourself against him to get him where you wanted. He loved teasing you like this. He brought it down to tease your entrance. You could feel him. He was so close.

“Please,” you begged.

“Since you asked so nicely.”

In one swift motion he sheathed himself inside you, his cock stretching you gloriously. You rocked your hips against him as he moved your legs over his shoulders.

“Fuck, you're taking me so well. All you needed was my cock to make you feel better?”

“Yes, yes, Aemond!” You babbled.

He pistoned into you, never once breaking eye contact. He wanted to watch you come undone.

“My beautiful, beautiful girl. Come for me.”

He sped up, his thrusts becoming erratic. Pleasure built inside you as he kept going, never relenting.

“Aemond, fuck!” Pleasure crested and white shot across your vision as he fucked you through your orgasm.

“I'm gonna come,” he grunted.

“Inside me, please. I want you inside me.”

He lost his rhythm but his speed never wavered until his seed filled your cunt.

Aemond collapsed on top of you but was careful not to crush you. You held him tight as you both lay there, his cock still inside you. The closeness, the intimacy, this is what you needed.

“I love you, Aemond. I love you so much.” You said into his shoulder.

“I love you, too,” he moved his face to look you in the eye. “I choose you, I will always choose you, and I will always be here for you.”

Your eyes began to water at his declaration of love. Never before have you felt so wanted, so loved.

Aemond slowly got up, his warmth leaving you cold and empty. He got a washcloth from the bathroom and gently cleaned you up. When he was done he cleaned himself and threw it in the hamper. He pulled you into his arms before lowering the both of you back onto the bed.

“I choose you, always you,” he declared. His words were the last you heard before you drifted off to sleep.

#fics by bean #hotd modern au #modern!aemond #modern aemond #aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #aemond x you

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sapphire-writes · 1 year

Text

The Au Pair (modern!HOTD) part 2

Part 1 ~ Part 2

pairing: Daemon x fem!Reader x Rhaenyra

summary: Your job nannying for the Targaryens takes an unexpected turn.

warnings: 18+ (explicit sex, oral fem receiving, fingering), slight power imbalance as they're your bosses, language

word count: 4.0k

note: part 2, it's about to get spicy in here! I hope you enjoy!

Days go by like you’re living in a dream. You’ve fallen into a solid routine with the boys, ushering them out to the school in the morning, and taking them to the park (mostly to gossip with Shae). You can’t help the gnawing feeling inside you, waiting for the shoe to drop. It’s almost been a month and you’re still around. As Shae said, previously unheard of.

“They’ve got some wedding this weekend,” Shae says waving to one of the kids.

You’re sitting on your usual bench with her, sipping on a hot drink, rocking Joffrey’s carriage with your foot slightly. He’s out cold, snuggled up with his favorite plushie, a soft dragon egg. You raise an eyebrow at Shae.

“A wedding sounds fun!” you tell her.

“There'll be some drama, that’s for sure,” she teases, “I’ll have plenty of gossip to spill when we get back.”

“If I’m still here,” you joke, causing her to frown.

“It’s still going well though, right?” she asks.

“Yeah it's literally perfect,” you tell her, “though I feel like I’m walking on eggshells now.”

“Keep your head up, you’re doing great,” Shae says, rubbing your shoulder.

You glance at your phone, noticing the time.

“Shoot, I should get them home,” you tell Shae, calling to the boys.

Jace and Luke bound over to you. You hand them their jackets, helping Luke with his. He enjoys the extra attention as you zip him up. Luke is such a little love. He thanks you, and you wave goodbye to Shae, heading back to the highrise. It was such a nice day you decided to walk to the park not far from the Targaryen home.

Daemon and Rhaenyra aren’t present when you arrive, though the home office door is shut so you assume Rhaenyra is finishing her day. You sit the boys at the counter in the kitchen, plating the dinner that has been prepared by the chef. You lean against the counter, joining them.

“I don’t like peas,” Luke says, pushing them about his plate.

“They’re better if you mix them with your mashed potatoes,” you tell him.

Jace reaches over to Luke’s plate, swirling his fork in his mashed potatoes and gathering some peas on his plate. Luke lets his elder brother, before scooping the mix onto his fork and shoving it into his mouth.

“Much better,” he says through a bite, causing you to smile.

The front door opens then, and Daemon walks into the kitchen, phone against his ear.

“Then we’re going to have to figure this out,” he says roughly, to whomever he’s on the phone with.

He smiles at the boys, before continuing his conversation. Daemon sounds stressed, and you think it's best to remove yourself and the boys from the kitchen.

“Let’s go to the theater room,” you tell them, clearing their places, “and give daddy some space.”

Daemon wasn’t paying attention before, lost in his conversation with his partner, but you have his attention now. His violet eyes meet yours and you feel a blush begin to warm your cheeks. Daemon smirks slightly, before returning to his conversation.

You hope you haven’t put your foot in your mouth. You take the evening to yourself after the boys go to bed. A bottle of champagne with a silver bow was left in your bathroom as you returned to your room for the evening. Rhaenyra is too kind to you. You pop the bottle and pour yourself a glass, settling into a soothing bubble bath.

Long after your soak, as you’re reading in bed, a soft knock comes to your door. You had just reached a rather spicy chapter, your mind completely entranced in the text, lower lip caught between your teeth. You jump slightly at the knock, before opening the door and revealing Rhaenyra.

Her silver hair is flowing freely over her shoulders and she wears a red silk pajama set. She smiles at you.

“Hey, Rhaenyra,” you say, feeling warm from the champagne.

“I just wanted to apologize for being so absent today,” she tells you, “work just got away from me.”

“There’s no problem at all,” you tell her, shaking your head, “seriously, it’s what I’m here for.”

Rhaenyra smiles.

“Daemon and I wanted to offer you tomorrow evening off. Laena has agreed to take the boys for a sleepover, and we figured you deserved a night off,” she tells you.

“Thank you so much,” you tell her, unable to stop yourself, “seriously, you’re so thoughtful with the gifts, and now the day off- I really appreciate the kindness.”

Rhaenyra cocks an eyebrow slightly at the mention of gifts, but you don’t really notice. You’re too lost in the sparkle of her violet eyes, her playful smile, and the way her eyes flicker around your face. She watches you with such rapt attention it makes your heart beat faster in your chest.

“We really like you,” she tells you, reaching out to stroke your cheek.

Your lips part, and you cannot help but let your gaze fall on hers. Pink, plump, and waiting. You blink rapidly. She’s your boss.

“We would really like to keep you,” she tells you, “So we like that you’re happy.”

She strokes your cheek a final time before pulling away.

“Enjoy tomorrow night, have fun, and go out!” she tells you.

As she turns her eyes flicker to the champagne bottle, the half-full glass. She smirks.

“Enjoy the gift,” she tells you, bidding you goodnight.

You leap back onto your bed as she leaves, rummaging in your nightstand drawer. Your hand finds your vibrator immediately. Surely, fantasizing about your boss isn’t bad? I mean, you’re only human after all. It takes a couple of rounds before you’re finally able to find sleep.

The next evening you call your best friend, letting her know you’re free. She’s more than excited that you finally have a break. You decide on a pretty fancy club, for drinks and dancing. A much-needed night with your friends. A short silk dress clings to you, the perfect going-out dress. You’re wearing your favorite heels, strappy black ones that creep up your calves.

You’re having a good time, a couple of drinks in when you notice a flash of silver. Daemon Targaryen is there, clad in his signature suit, with rings on his fingers catching in the light. You turn quickly as his head turns your way, tapping your best friend.

“I’m getting another drink!” you tell her above the music, heading toward the bar.

You lean against it, putting in your drink order, trying to steady your nerves. You take a sip from your drink as someone comes up beside you. You know it's him before you look, from the smell of his cologne paired with some expensive cigars. You’ve heard Rhaenyra scold him for smoking but know he does it anyway when out with his investors.

“I can go somewhere else,” you tell him.

“Why would you do that?” he asks.

“I don’t know,” you answer, clearly flustered, all batting eyelashes and rosy cheeks.

Daemon wants to devour you whole. Leave nothing behind. Trailing you across the club and over to the bar has made him feel like a predator chasing its prey; his cock hard in his pants.

“I just imagine you don’t want to see your au pair when you’re trying to have a night out,” you tell him, nervously licking your lips.

Daemon watches you, taking a sip from his drink.

“I don’t mind at all,” Daemon murmurs, leaning closer, “in fact, it’s nice to see you having fun and enjoying yourself.”

You shiver at the feeling of his breath on your ear. You shouldn’t be so turned on by this, he’s your boss. You really like working for them, working with the boys and you really like Rhaenyra. This is wrong. This is wrong.

“Thank you again,” you tell him, moving away a bit, “for the night off. It’s really nice of you.”

Daemon nods, noticing your retreat. You glance at the section of the club your friends stand in, they wave at you, beckoning you over.

“I should go,” you tell Daemon.

“Behave yourself,” Daemon tells you, “and have fun. I’ll see you at home.”

You can’t stop the jolt of pleasure that lands between your legs at his tone. You nod, not trusting your voice, and make your way over to your friends.

“Who was that Daddy you were talking to?” your friend asks, eyes wide.

“Girl!” you hiss, “That’s my boss.”

Her mouth drops open in surprise as she cranes her neck to get a better look.

“How do you even work, with all that walking around?” she asks.

You chuckle, taking a sip of your drink.

“You should see his wife,” you tell her, blushing.

She squeals.

“Dirty girl! How do I get your job?” she whines and you laugh some more.

The evening is spent drinking and dancing, harmless fun. Daemon remains in the VIP section, lounging on a couch, sipping his whiskey while conversing with colleagues. His eyes remain on you throughout the evening, keeping you under a watchful eye. You catch him looking several times, a thrill running through you each time you do. It’s harmless fun, right? You’re not actually doing anything.

As you’re dancing with your friends you feel a hand snake it's way around your waist and you turn, meeting the eyes of a man with dark curls and warm brown eyes.

“Hey there sexy,” he murmurs, not removing his hand.

He’s cute. You blush, flattered by the attention.

“Um hello?” you say, eyes flickering to his hand on your waist before giggling.

“I’m Quoren Martell,” he tells you, continuing to dance with you.

You tell him your name, enjoying his boldness. You converse with him for a while, and let him buy you another drink. He’s charming and goes out of his way to make you laugh. Quoren Martell is just what you need to get this thing with Rhaenyra and Daemon out of your system. You’re just desperately horny, and a one-night stand will cure that.

“You want to get out of here?” Quoren murmurs in your ear, “Head back to mine? I have a spectacular collection of streaming services, all the movies and shows you can dream of.”

“Oh really,” you say chuckling, “you want to watch a movie with me?”

“I want to do a lot of things with you,” he answers honestly.

“Let me just run to the bathroom, and let my friends know,” you tell him, smiling.

You are pushed by people in the club and find your best friend in the bathroom, fixing her makeup in the mirror.

“I’m going home with that guy, Quoren,” you tell her.

She groans, giving you a quick hug.

“What about your sexy boss?” she asks, pouting.

“Haha,” you tell her rolling your eyes, “I love you, you good?”

“Yeah I’m good,” she says smiling, “have fun, be safe, and leave your location on please.”

“Always,” you tell her, kissing her cheek.

You walk out the door and down the hallway, heading back toward the music, when a figure walks toward you in the opposite direction. You expect them to keep walking by you, but suddenly hands are on your waist, pressing your back against the wall. You gasp, looking up at the stranger’s face, startled. There’s only a second to realize who it is before he slams his lips to yours.

Daemon.

His mouth is warm and demanding as his tongue splits your lips apart before darting into your mouth. You moan as his hands squeeze the meat of your ass, pressing you closer against him. Dameon brings one hand to the back of your neck, deepening the kiss. Your arms wrap around him, nails dragging against the expensive fabric of his suit.

Daemon releases your lips, tugging on your lower one harshly with his teeth before bringing his attention to your neck. Whimpers leave your lips and you thrash against him desperately. You can feel him hot, and hard against you- holy shit he’s huge.

It’s enough to rip you from your thoughts previously clouded by lust and you push against him, wiggling out of his grip. Oh no, oh nonononono.

Daemon lets you go, though a surprised expression is on his face as you flee away from him down the hallway.

Shit.

You’ve ruined everything.

You’re going to get fired. Maybe slapped. Probably both.

Oh no, Rhaenyra.

You hope you can somehow make it back to the highrise before Daemon and explain yourself. Your leg nervously taps in your Uber and you fly out of the car once it stops in front of the building. You push by the doorman and stress the entire elevator ride.

You don’t bother to remove your heels, running straight for Rhaenyra and Daemon’s room, crashing through the door. Rhaenyra is seated on the couch, feet tucked up underneath her. She looks up as you enter, her brow furrowed in concern.

“Darling-”

“I need to talk to you,” you gasp, “right now, I- Rhaenyra I am so sorry.”

She gets up, embracing you as tears leave your eyes. You hate that you’ve probably hurt her. She seats you on the bed, sitting next to you, stroking your hair as you tell her what happened.

“I would never, ever want to betray your trust,” you tell her, “I love this job, I love working for you so much, and this will never happen again, I promise.”

“Oh, sweet girl,” she says, holding your face in her palms, wiping away your tears with her thumbs.

Your eyes search her face, trying to gauge her feelings, but her expression gives nothing away. Like always, you can’t help but look at her lips, so pink and rosy and begging to be kissed. Rhaenyra’s eyes flicker to yours quickly and you blink. Surely, you’re now seeing things.

But then she leans forward.

Her lips are just as soft as you have imagined, and you let yourself get lost in the kiss for a moment, before pulling away just as she slips her tongue into your mouth. You gasp, standing up from the bed, trembling.

“Well,” a voice says, causing you to turn.

Daemon leans in the doorway, smirking at the sight in front of him.

“Getting started without me?” he says, loosening his tie.

Rhaenya makes a clicking sound with her tongue, reaching to grab your hand. You look at her in confusion.

“It seems you were getting started without me,” she purrs, tugging you closer.

Daemon throws his tie on the bed, moving to loosen his cufflinks.

“It wasn’t my fault,” he tells Rhaenyra, “I had to do something, did she tell you the whole truth of it?”

“What?” you say, now thoroughly confused.

“Ah,” Daemon says, shaking his head, “See? She’s trouble, I told you.”

“I don’t understand,” you tell them, feeling Rhaenyra stroke the back of your hand.

“She was being a little tease,” Daemon says, ignoring your statement, “about to go home with some silly little boy.”

His words sting. For some reason, you feel embarrassment flood through you. Rhaenyra looks up at you, noticing your pout. She places her hands on your waist.

“We’ve been interested in you for quite some time now,” she tells you, rubbing circles against your hips, “and we believe you’re interested as well.”

Oh shit.

They know you’ve been thinking about them. Both of them. Your eyes flicker between the two of them.

“I-I’m sorry-”

“What did I tell you about being sorry?” Rhaenyra scolds, “You’ve nothing to be sorry for. We just need to know. Do you want us, baby?”

This is not happening.

“She asked you a question,” Daemon tells you impatiently.

Rhaenyra gives him a stern look before her gaze softens as it returns to you.

“I’m not…” you pause, trying to wrap your brain around the situation, “I’m not losing my job?”

Rhaenyra chuckles softly.

“No dearest,” she answers, “we very much wish to keep you, sweet girl.”

You look between them once more.

“Okay,” you breathe, “Yes. Yes, I want you.”

Rhaenyra purrs happily, like a pleased kitten. She pulls you between her legs, grabbing your ass with both hands. She captures your lips in a kiss once more.

“We should be punishing her,” Daemon scolds as Rhaenyra pulls you closer.

“Hush you,” she says to Daemon, as she begins to kiss your neck, “She didn’t know she did something bad.”

“Then she’ll learn for next time,” Daemon says, watching closely.

You whimper at her touch, as one of her hands snakes up your back to the zipper of your dress. She drags the zipper down, letting the silky material pool at your feet. You’re not wearing a bra, the dress didn’t allow for one, so your breasts hang heavy and needy, nipples pebbling as the air touches them.

Rhaenyra drags her hands up your sides and you bite your lip, trembling under her touch.

“Don’t be so cruel, my love,” she scolds Daemon, “not during our first time. We must be gentle with new toys.”

Her hands reach your breasts and she massages the soft mounds in her hands, eliciting a moan from you. Daemon walks closer, you can feel him pressing in behind you as Rhaenyra takes your right nipple into her hot mouth, swirling her tongue over the hardened peak. She sucks the puckered bud hard and you arch your back into her.

You feel Daemon’s lips caress the side of your neck and your lips part as you tilt your head to allow him better access. Rhaneyra moves her mouth’s attention to your other breast as Daemon sinks his teeth into your shoulder. You cry out, flinging your hand back and grabbing a fistful of his silver hair, the other hand gripping Rhaenyra’s head against your breast.

She laughs against you as Daemon’s hands move to your panties, dragging the lace material down your legs. The noises you’re making are obscene already at their attention and Rhaenyra releases your nipple with a wet pop.

“Needy little thing you are,” she murmurs, dragging her hand across your dripping folds, “and so wet already.”

Daemon has crouched beside you, hands on the straps of your heels.

“Leave those,” Rhaenyra tells him, “I like them on her.”

You feel her slender finger teasing at your entrance, and Daemon lifts your leg, spreading you wide in front of Rhaenyra.

“I want to see this pretty cunt of yours,” she tells you, curling a finger inside of you.

Your hands dig into her shoulders, your mouth falling open as she slips a second finger inside, slowly curling them against your silky walls. The pleasure blooms in your abdomen like a rose stretching toward the sun.

“You’ll spoil her rotten,” Daemon says, before capturing your lips in a kiss as Rhaenyra continues curling her fingers inside your pussy.

She merely chuckles at Daemon.

“Oh I will, hmm?” she teases, “I’m not the one who’s been leaving her special treats. You think you’re clever, don’t you? Sneaking around at all hours, thinking I won’t know.”

Daemon’s hand moves to your neck, deepening the kiss for a moment before breaking away.

“Are you angry with me?” Daemon asks her, as Rhaenyra dips forwards, circling her tongue on your clit.

“Please,” you moan, thrashing against her mouth, against his hands that hold you firmly in place.

“Of course not,” Rhaenyra says, answering him, ignoring your plea with another small lick of your clit, “She’s been so good to us, she deserves it.”

Daemon’s hand travels from your neck to toy with your breasts as your orgasm creeps nearer with every stroke of Rhaenyra’s fingers, every flick of her tongue. It’s all too much and suddenly you’re crying out, clenching around her fingers, your arousal dripping down your thighs.

“You taste as sweet as you look, darling girl,” Rhaenyra praises, removing her fingers from your center.

Daemon flips you on your back, dragging you to the edge of the bed by your thighs. Your eyes widen at the sight of his massive cock, as he fists it in his hand. The flushed tip is weeping, anxious to split you open. You nervously glance at Rhaenyra who strokes some hair from your face.

“He’ll be gentle, sweet girl, won’t you, my love?” Rhaenyra says, stroking your face.

Daemon drags his cock along your sopping folds, from your entrance up to your clit. He taps the sensitive button with his fat tip, chuckling as you squirm from the sensation.

“For tonight, at least,” he says, watching his cock spread your folds once more.

Daemon presses the tip against your hole, pushing into you slowly, stretching out your tight walls. You moan at the stretch his cock gives you before you are silenced by Rhaenyra’s fingers in your mouth. You suckle them, gazing into her eyes as Daemon presses your thighs into the mattress, spreading you wide. The sleek black materials of your heels catch the light as he begins to thrust into you.

You whimper around Rhaenyra’s fingers as his cock splits into you so deliciously, Rhaenyra whispering sweet praises into your ear all the while.

“Fuck you feel fantastic,” Daemon groans, rolling his hips.

Rhaenyra removes her fingers from your mouth, trailing down between your breasts, down your stomach to play with your clit. You moan as her nimble fingers circle your clit, a juxtaposition to the hard thrusts Daemon gives you.

“Such a good girl,” Daemon praises, “She should put that pretty mouth to better use Nyra.”

He swats away Rhaenyra’s hand, replacing it with his own, large fingers pinching at your clit. It’s rougher than Rhaenyra’s touch but you find yourself twitching against him at the pleasure it gives you. Rhaenyra rises from the bed, riding herself off her bottoms before crawling up toward your face. She straddles it, lowering her dripping cunt onto your mouth.

You greedily part her soaked lips with your tongue, nose nuzzling against soft silver curls to nudge at her clit. You dip your tongue inside her, relishing the taste of her, the sound of the soft moans that leave her lips. Your tongue explores every inch of her, pressing into different places that elicit more pretty sounds, more desperate grinds against your face. Your chin is dripping with her as you suckle her clit.

“She’s a delight,” Rhaenyra moans and Daemon angles his hips, thrusting against a spot that paints stars behind your eyelids.

You moan against Rhaenyra’s sweet cunt, burying your tongue inside her, stiffening it so she can swirl her hips around it. As her moans reach a new pitch you know she must be close. Eager to please you lap at her greedily, bringing all your attention to her clit until she’s trembling on your face.

“Such a good girl,” Rhaenyra croons, “Daemon, be sweet to her.”

Daemon snaps his hips against you and Rhaenyra leans down, pressing her tongue against your clit as the head of Daemon’s cock rubs against your spongy walls. The pleasure is too much and you’re cumming once more, clenching around Daemon's fat cock. He thrusts into you a few more times before pulling out and finishing on your stomach.

Rhaenyra pulls herself off of you, and Daemon releases your legs. Your heels are still on, the feeling of being naked with just them on is strange. Daemon walks to the bathroom and you hear him start to fill the tub before he returns with a towel. He gently cleans you, as Rhaenyra draws shapes on your stomach with your fingers.

“We’d like it very much if you stayed, darling,” Rhaenyra tells you, “the children adore you. We adore you.”

She places a kiss on your shoulder. You want nothing more than to stay with them. Both of them.

“I want to stay. With you. Both of you,” you tell her, and she smiles.

“I’m glad to hear that,” Rhaenyra tells you.

“As am I,” Daemon agrees.

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note: hope you enjoyed! as always, comments, likes & reblogs are greatly appreciated, I love hearing your thought! until next time, ily!💖

HOTD TAGLIST GENERAL: @bluevxnuss, @thattargboy, @xlilacfrostx, @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed, @marvelescape, @geminithrone, @deltamoon666, @i-killed-ramsey, @tempt-ress, @eddiemadmunson, @zillahvathek, @hangmanscoming, @jojoesq, @f4ll-for-you, @rwdkarla, @cc13723things, @filipiniamultifandom, @watercolorskyy @alexxavicry @sachafirebringer @polireader @jamespotterismydaddy @grv7ay9In35s @sofiaadler @sophielangdonx @doublesparrows, @sophielangdonx, @alitaar, @castellomargot, @paodemorangol1l1, @nik2blog, @arkainea @eddiemadmunson, @malfoytargaryen, @eudximoniax, @targaryen-world, @ghostheartbeat @savagemickey03, @aemondsdaemons, @candypurplebutterfly, @eddiemadmunson, @xxnaly2, @ghostheartbeat, @savagemickey03, @dieg0brandos-wife, @paodemorangol1l1, @hb8301, @padfooteyes, @valeskafics @doublesparrows, @bornbetter, @beyond-the-ashes, @clairacassidy, @aslanvez, @loglady00, @gettheetoanunneryimmediatly, @minami97, @serving-targaryen-realness, @chaotic-fangirl-blog, @possiblyafangirl, @shmexie, @winter-soldier-101, @kaelatargaryen, @urmomsgirlfriend1, @floswife, @mizfortuna, @strawberryduvet, @girlwith-thepearlearring, @arryn-nyx, @namelesslosers, @hopelesswritergall

@coldcomputerkoala, @louislouve, @alicetargaryen @fidelias, @earthangels-things, @shinypoetryface, @klara-lily, @ensnaredinwonderland, @bubblyabs, @green-lxght, @cheerbaitromanjosi, @billiesbeans, @hufflepuff1700, @asumofwords, @angelheavensblog, @natashaobo, @zavriocibrouku, @tssf-imagines, @delilah92590, @shit-posts420, @evattude, @heyykarolina, @brie-annwyl, @wondergal2001, @herondale-girl7, @teteminne, @euphoriahoesss, @mercedesdecorazon,

BOLD MEANS I COULD NOT TAG

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