#dark modern aemond

[flowerandblood]

Aemond as Young Pope The Gate of Salvation Series Please, do not repost it and do not publish it on any other plaftorms − it's my edit and I made my watersign. Reblog, comment and enjoy, but do not steal.

#prince aemond #aemond #aemond edit #prince aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen #hotd aemond #aemond fanfiction #aemond fic #aemond moodboard #aemond fandom #ewan mitchell fanfiction #ewan mitchell edit #modern aemond #dark modern aemond #priest aemond #aemond kinslayer

[the-common-cowgirl]

Greater of Two Evils - Part 5

Summary: Reader returns to her childhood home only to move to a new home the next day. How will she cope?

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Dark! Modern Aemond x Fem!Reader

Warnings: DUBCON to Consensual, AFAB reader, Smut (p in v, oral sex f&m receiving, orgasm denial, teasing, creampie, Dom vibes, choking, food play?), verbal arguments, cursing, tension, feelings of anxiety, feelings of hate, manipulation, Aemond not being a total jerk at the end? Lmk if there’s any I missed!

Word Count: 4790

A/N: This was split off of part 4, then I added some smut. Enjoy!

Masterlist

Your childhood bed was warm and stiffer than you remembered but you slept well regardless. Something about being home, being safe, surrounded by familiar smells and sounds, allowed you to fully rest, but now, the sun had long since risen and it was time for a nostalgic breakfast. 

Pulling on some pajama shorts and a crewneck sweatshirt, you drug your sleepy self from bed, lumbering down the steps to the living room, rubbing your eyes. The smell of bacon permeated through the small cottage home  and as you neared the bottom of the steps, you heard your mother call your name from the kitchen as she had when you were growing up when breakfast was early ready; allotting you time to get out of bed and get downstairs before the food went cold. 

Sleep wouldn’t quite leave your eyes and you reached up to rub the drowsiness from them with your sweatshirt sleeve, yawning. Your mother scolded you lightly, “Dear, we have company, you should go upstairs and change-”

Your arm dropped from your face quickly to find that evading your nightmares wasn't an option in this personal hell of a life you were sentenced to. 

Silver hair. Eye-patch. Finely tailored suit.

Maybe that song your dad used to sing in the back garden was right, maybe the devil does in fact wear a suit and tie. 

“What are you doing here?” Your voice is flat and devoid of fear despite the fact you very much were filled to the brim with it. Maybe anger at him invading such a sacred place of yours took precedent… finally.

Your mom turned around with a hand on her hip, “That’s no way to speak to your-”

Aemond raised his hand, silencing your mother with a soft smile. The action made you nauseous; no one silences your mother so easily. “Please, it’s alright.” He turned to you, “I came here to meet your parents and ask formally, this time, for your hand in marriage.”

Your eyes widened and you looked at your mom. She shook her head with a sweet smile, “Honey, if you were running here because you were scared of marriage, you should have thought of that before you got pregnant. Now here, Mr. Targaryen is trying to make things right.”

‘Trying to make things right’ felt like a stab in the gut, fueled by betrayal. 

“Mom I-”

Aemond cut you off, “Perhaps we can speak alone?” He looks over to your mother with the smile of a snake and she returns it, mayhaps without the reptilian features. 

“Of course, I’ll be out in the back garden with your father,” she tells you before she wipes her hands on her apron and exits the room. 

You stare at Aemond as he stares back at you with his lone eye. He hears the backdoor open and shut before he speaks. “I told you to stay.”

You pull up a chair opposite of him. “Like a dog,” you bite back. “What did you tell my parents?”

A sly smirk pulls at his lips, “I think you understand the predicament we’re in.” He leans back, grabbing his teacup and bringing it to his lips, “your mother loves me by the way.” He sips, smiling like a Cheshire cat, lone eye studying his prey.

“She also prefers my brother over me so I’d take her approval with a grain of salt.”

He frowns slightly, bringing the cup back down to the table. “They know the baby is mine and they know I am planning on taking care of you, and it, financially.” His eye flickers up to you triumphantly, “And they also know that I proposed to you, my girlfriend of three years and you had your doubts and came to see them.”

You narrowed your eyes, “You told them we have been a couple for three years and they believed you?”

Aemond smirked, shrugging lazily. “Apparently you do not talk to your parents enough for them to know much about you.”

Anger rose within you, making you begin to sweat with loathing. How did Aemond seem to get away with every little thing? It was like he walked and the grass parted a path for him. He seemed untouchable; making your cause seem hopeless.

“Go upstairs and pack, we’re leaving.” HIs command was stern with no room for contest.

You shook your head despite this, “I’m not going with you. No.”

Aemond stood from the table slowly, towering over you. His hand snaked down reverently from the top of your hair, along your cheekbone, landing beneath your chin and pulled your face up to look at him. “I’ve done things in a quite unorthodox matter at the beginning of this relationship-”

“This isn’t a relationship.”

He barely contained a sneer, you felt the anger boiling just underneath his skin but he kept it from burning you…surprisingly. “Whatever you want to call it- relationship, understanding-”

“Containment-” you cut.

“-whatever,” his voice raised slightly, “you may call it.” He returned to his false softened hum, “I believe I can do better by you and our child. You have to give me that chance.”

Your eyes met his lone blue and you knew you had no choice….for now.

“Okay.”

He looked half shocked, probably suspecting more of a fight. “Okay? Okay. Yes,” he pulled his hand from you. “I will arrange for us to leave immediately. Go upstairs and pack what you need.”

You stood from the table, “All of my essentials are in Sunspear.”

Aemond pulled out his phone, bringing it to his ear. “Well, we aren’t going back to Sunspear so I’ll just buy new essentials unless anything cannot be replaced.”

You looked at him in confusion, “Where are we going then?”

Someone on the other end of the line began speaking so he mouthed what looked like ‘King’s Landing’ before he started barking orders into the phone.

Kings Landing.

The drive to the Crownlands took a few hours and every bit of that time was spent with Aemond on the phone, rearranging your life, unenrolling you from your college, and closing your account at your bank in Sunspear. With every call, you started to grow more and more anxious.

How is he able to do all of these things without my permission or consent?

At the final call, the one where he closed out your membership to the student credit union, he looked over at you. “We are close to my estate now.”

You remained staring out the back door’s window, “How were you able to do all of that without my permission?”

The car slowed and began to turn, Aemond leaned up to the driver, mumbling the code to the driveway gates. Once he leaned back, he looked sideways to you, “I thought you were well aware I had plenty of connections.”

A pit grew in your stomach as you drove through the gates of the estate. A large, white stone home sat proudly in the nicest part of King’s Landing; the homebase of Westeros’ rich, powerful and corrupt. A tall hedge bush ran along the property lines, behind it, you could see glimpses of an iron-wrought fence at least twelve feet high. Physically, there would be no escaping the property.

The car parked beneath the carport at the very front of the house, Aemond opened the door and exited his side, you followed; pulling the handle and exiting. Aemond rounded the car, grabbing your arm a little too harshly and leaning in next to your ear. “We are to be married soon, wait for me to open the door.”

His harsh scolding gave you chills as he pulled back from you with a smile as if nothing had happened. “Allow me to show you the manor.”

Red roses adorned the foundation of the home and when you stepped inside, the floors were marble. Nothing was out of place, everything was extravagant and lavish. Aemond had walked you through the entire first floor (where a butler or maid was scattered purposefully about every three rooms) before leading you upstairs. You had hoped the second floor didn’t have another random person who would pop out from behind a plant or tall vase just to add to your embarrassment as you were paraded through the home as its new captive; fortunately, there were none. 

Aemond led you to a set of double doors, pushing a single open and leading you through gently. “This is our room,” he stated plainly as day. 

You shook your head, “No. I want my own room.”

He fixed you with a look that scorched your skin. “Absolutely not.”

So you used his own logic against him with the words ‘be a river’ giving you the courage to do so. “Aemond,” you reasoned lightly, lighter than natural for you, “I uh, don’t want to assume anything but to my understanding… you want the image of a perfect life.”

His brow furrowed, immediately with shock and before it could resolve to anger, you spoke again.

“I see the white house, the roses, the perfectly manicured yard. I saw the butlers and maids downstairs alongside the decorations that I wouldn’t particularly attribute to your style - not that I know your style, we are just strangers whom you’ve decided should conceive-”

Aemond snorted, anger clearly beginning to rise within him but you continued on.

“I also saw the Seven Pointed Star several times throughout my tour. Decorations…books… and I know that’s the predominant religion of Westeros. You being a politician and all, I’m sure you want to look the part, even if you don’t believe in it, I can almost guarantee you don’t.”

“I do,” he retorted.

You smiled, taking a step toward him, “Interesting.” He looked at you with a thin veil of confusion. “Anyway, what I’m getting at is that it’s quite obvious that this house,” you gestured vaguely around you as you stepped closer to him, “is all for show. You moved me here,” pointing to yourself, “for show. I know your intentions, I understand what I am to you…so I ask you to allow me to have my own room until we are wed. If anything, it’s only for show.” You smiled up at him, feeling you aced him.

He simply smiled back, leaning down slightly. His smile made your triumph falter and fade. “I knew I liked you for a reason, you’re incredibly…perceptive.” His eye leveled you with a glance from your eyes, to your shoes and back up again. “Fine,” he straightened, “you’ll get your own room…until we are wed.”

You blew hot air through your nose, feeling anger festering in your pores. “And when is that?” 

Aemond turned from you, pulling his suit jacket off and placing it on the mattress. “Two weeks.”

Your blood ran cold, “Two weeks? How can you plan a wedding in two weeks?”

Aemond laughed as he loosened his tie, “I’ve had someone on it for a while now-”

“Show me my room please,” anger, resentment, hate boiled through your veins and ignited your heart. “I need some space.”

Aemond chuckled, “Take your pick.” He motioned toward the door, expecting you to find your own way out. You turned and began marching for the door when you heard him call out, “Just remember, you said the bedroom is ‘just for show.”

Turning back toward him, you glared. Of course he wouldn’t let you leave without an innuendo and threat. “Fuck you,” you spat and turned back for the doors, pushing hard. Before you were out of earshot, you heard him laughing to himself with a “soon enough” coming from his lips.

You picked the room furthest from his, on the other side of the second floor entirely. Locking the door as soon as you got into the room despite the fact that the door could be unblocked from the outside. So, for extra measure, you managed to push a dresser in front of the door, more effectively blocking yourself in. 

Safe.

The feeling of dread left you quickly and you felt safe enough to take a shower, wrapping yourself in your towel and laying in the soft bed. You check your phone for the first time today to see you have no messages or calls. You try to call your dad, explain why you left in such haste but your phone would not ring out. No phone service. No carrier.

The fucker turned off my phone too?

Bitterly anger turned into hopelessness which turned into tears. And like how most of your nights went recently, your tears lulled yourself to sleep.

A field of tall grass surrounded you as the soft wind blew your hair. You looked around you to see a river rushing along the base of the hill you were standing on. The river rushed proudly against the grey landscape pushing and pulling where it dared. Then suddenly, the river changed its course, pummeling straight up the hill for you. Sand and loamy clay was left dry where it ceased flowing. Now, at the bottom of the river lies the grass that surrounded you, held you, protected you. You had mere seconds to think before the river reached you and you had yet to think of anything but the cold waves approaching. Suddenly, the sky overhead was dark and thunder thumped hard against the sky. Thump. Thump. Thump.

You awakened to thunder, sitting up in bed. You look around the room in a daze from your previous slumber. The night is dark, starry, clear.

The room thunders again. 

Knocking.

Aemond calls your name from behind the doors. 

“Go away!” Your voice doesn’t tremble, you’re safe behind the doors with the dresser blocking you in. The sounds cease, you find sleep again with less ease.

In the morning, you stand staring at the doors after having moved the dresser, contemplating if your hunger is worth emerging from your hiding spot. The grumble in your stomach pushes you to open the doors and reassures you that Aemond won’t try anything stupid in front of his hired help. You walk to where you remember the kitchen is, bare feet padding against the cold marble floors, without seeing a single person. The sun has been up for a few hours now and you grow uneasy at the fact there aren’t people here to bear witness and pass judgment on Aemond if he were to do something inappropriate but the house is quiet…too quiet. You wonder if he is even home.

You stop in the middle of the kitchen, listening for footsteps or even life; all you hear is the ticking of a grandfather clock several rooms away. Aemond must not be home. 

Relief trickled through you as you opened the fridge, cool light flooding across your face. Picking the easiest thing, a yogurt cup, you closed the fridge then searched the multitude of drawers before you found the silverware drawer and plucked a spoon from it. Quickly, you headed back upstairs with your scavenged breakfast in case Aemond came back early. Opening the strawberry yogurt cup and dipping into it with a spoon, you ate a bite on the way back to your new room until movement stopped you dead in your tracks. 

Your eyes locked with Aemond as he was stepping out of your room. 

“What are you doing?”

A flash of a glare ran across his face, if you blinked, you would have missed it. “You’re not supposed to eat food outside the kitchen or dining room.”

You narrowed your eyes, reiterating, “What are you doing in my room?”

He challenged you, narrowing his own back. “Not. Your. Room. I own this house.”

“Sorry, my space in this hellscape you call a home,” you shifted your stance.

He took a step toward you from the door, “Don’t ever lock yourself in again.”

You laughed, “I’m not your free use slave. You can’t come in and fuck me whenever you want-”

Aemond shook his head, “I was worried about you last night, you had screamed in your sleep-”

“You good-for-nothing jackass…I don’t talk in my sleep, let alone scream. Quit lying and stay the fuck away from me.” Anger overrode your body as he took more steps toward you, causing you to fling the yogurt cup at him, splashing across his face and body. 

He was shocked for several moments, mouth hanging agape, before his eye settled on you; you trying to suppress your laughter behind your two hands clasped over your mouth.

“You little bi-”

Before he could finish, you turned tail and ran, gleeful you’d made an actual mess of him and feeling some sort of victory in doing so. You heard him swear behind you then, the thundering footsteps closing in quickly behind you. 

With nowhere to escape to, you ran into his bedroom, shutting the doors behind you with barely enough time. His pounding on the doors rattled the wood just after you had locked the handles. He called your name behind the wood and you just laughed again, feeling bested the beast in his own home. 

“You’re gonna have to be quicker than that- '' came your sing-song voice in a mocking tone. 

Immediately, the banging ceased. The speed at quick Aemond gave up his pursuit gave you an awful feeling in your stomach but thinking about it was short lived when you saw that in your valor of throwing the yogurt on Aemond, you had spilled a long drop down your shirt and thighs. Cursing to yourself silently, you made your way into the bathroom.

Flicking on the lights, in search of whatever vanity drawer Aemond stored his washrags in so you could wipe the pink yogurt from your only pair of clothes. You didn’t find it in any of the top drawers so bending down, you continued your search for something to wipe off the residue. Soon, you found the drawer containing the washrags and plucking one from the drawer, you stood, turning on the water and running the rag under it until it was fully soaked and warm. Only then, did you look up from the vanity countertop and into the mirror; jumping in fright.

Aemond was standing behind you, smirking. Like a cougar watching his prey from the trees.

You turned quickly, and tried to shove the wet rag in his face only for him to grab you and spin you around to face yourself in the mirror, your hands subdued tightly behind your back. You then noticed another door, slightly ajar, it looked like it led to a large walk-in closet that must have been connected to the hall. 

“That wasn’t very nice of you-”

“Leave me alone,” you struggled weakly in his grip. The pain in your wrist igniting once more.

He chuckled and pressed himself harshly against you, smearing the pink goo across the back of your shirt. “I think we need to clean up, don’t you?”

“Nope, all fine,” you gritted out as you struggled in his hold.

His nose came to press against your throat, you felt your heartbeat quicken as he inhaled your scent. “You, at least, need to clean me.” Without giving you time to process, he hauled you toward the shower, pushing you in and then stepping inside himself. You offered him only a quizzical glare before he turned the showerhead on and began soaking you through your clothes. You huffed and backed out of the water stream and he closed you in, water now drenching him and his clothes; he didn’t seem to care as he began to strip the wet clothes from his body. “Clean the mess you made and you’re free to go.” 

It seemed too easy, too simple. He definitely wouldn't leave it at that. 

Regardless, you began collecting water in your hands as he continued to strip. With trepidation, you moved your hands to his face, wiping a splatter of pink from his cheekbone; trying not to look at his smug expression. His skin was coarse against your fingers. Something about the action was intimate, close, you hated it; it made you feel at ease in his presence.

He bent down, stripping his underwear from his body, completely nude now. However, the rest of the mess was left on his clothes, his skin was clean now.

“I’m done,” you announced with no emotion, trying to conceal embarrassment behind impassiveness. 

He tutted gently, “You’ve made quite a mess of my cock too. You need to clean that up as well.” He glanced down to his member, returning his triumphant smirk to your face. 

You narrowed your eyes, “That’s your own doing. I’m not-”

He brought a hand up to your thigh, collecting some of the yogurt that hadn’t been washed away and rubbed it along his cockhead. 

“Seems like you did make a mess, sweet river, now be a good girl and this’ll all be over.”

HIs honeyed tone was laced with something addictive and once again, you felt yourself falling victim to whatever charm this snake held over you. When his hand came up to your shoulder and pushed you down, you found yourself falling to your knees for him while your glare never left his face. That was, until you were face to face with his manhood, tip smeared with pink. Your mouth watered against your wishes and your eyes glanced back up to him as water trickled down his toned abs, valleying around the base of his and his heavy sac.

Just do what he wants, a voice told you and you gave in.

Carefully, you stuck your tongue out, licking some pink from the bottom of his ruddy head. You heard him shudder at such a small action and it excited you; the thought of reducing him to your whim as he often did to you. So, your tongue swirled around his head again, taking just the tip of him into your mouth and sucking wet and slowly, letting saliva, mixed with yogurt and precum fall down past your lips to be washed down the drain with the rest of the water that fell off of him. You felt him buck against your mouth, releasing a small, barely audible whine when you pulled back from his charge. His hand flew to your hair, eye scrunched shut. He didn’t attempt to move you further onto his cock, rather, hold you steady. “Fuck- please,” he all but groaned as you continued licking and sucking just the tip. 

Smiling, you pulled off of him. “I think you’re clean now.” Your hands in your lap, his hand in your hair. He opened his eye and looked down at you with an annoyed, lazy glare. “Finish,” he all but demanded.

You shook your head. “That would make a bigger mess.”

He rolled his eye, “Okay, let’s see how you like it.”

And before you could process what he was doing, he pulled you up, pulling down your pajama bottoms and underwear in one swift motion, backing you against the cold, tiled wall of the shower and sinking to his knees before you. His mouth was on your cunt like a madman and he hiked one of your legs up with a strong hand, giving him freer access to your womanhood.

His tongue circled your clit like a vulture before he zeroed in, suckling gently. Your hands flew into his wet hair, entangling as you whined and threw your head back a little too harshly against the wall, making the back of your head sting in residual pain but you didn’t care, all you could focus on was the intense pleasure he was ripping from you.

His other hand came up to play with your entrance, lithe fingers dancing, teasing, but never acting in the way you wanted them to, needed them to. You ground down, trying to impale yourself on the fingers that played at your entrance to no avail. Aemond chuckled against your folds, pulling himself from them to look up at your ecstasy ridden face. 

“Don’t like it?”

You huffed, running a hand over your eyes, wanting nothing more than to hide yourself from his goading. “Shut up.”

“How about I grant both of your wishes while you grant mine?” He stood, pulling your top and bra off, depositing them in the heap of clothes at the bottom of the foggy shower.

His hands ran up your ribcage, stopping just below your breasts and cupping them. He placed tender kisses on each one, tongue running along the soft skin. 

“Which is?” Your breath was heavy. This is wrong but at the moment, it’s so right. 

“I’ll shut up and we both get to come,” he added a kiss to your collarbone.

“Are you actually asking me permission?” You could have laughed.

He suckled on the skin just below your ear, making you repress a breathy whine.

“I told you I’d treat you better.”

You chuckled this time, grabbing his wet hair and pulling him away from your skin so he could look at you. “Okay. Fuck me Aemond.”

His face cracked with a soft smile and he cocked his head, “Manners…”

You rolled your eyes and grasped his cock, stroking the velvety skin, pulling it closer to your aching core. “I think we’re long past manners…don’t you?” 

Aemond huffed a singular chuckle through his nose before he hiked one of your legs up and aligned himself, sinking into your core in a slow, purposeful thrust. You moaned at the feeling of him stretching you; how he made you feel so full. No one could make you feel like this and you were painfully aware that he knew it.

He began thrusting into you in earnest, chasing a high he had been denied by your lips and newfound victory in your cunt. He steadied himself with a hand on the wall beside your head as his rough pounding became faster, pulling and pushing against that delicate spot inside you that had you whining and wrapping your arms around his shoulders and neck. 

“Play with yourself, “ he commanded through rough thrusts.

Your brain was nearly too fucked out to comprehend he had even spoke.

He grunted, delivering a harsh thrust. “I said play with yourself.” He panted, “M’ Close and want you to cum on my cock to finish me.”

You obeyed a bit too quickly, moving a hand down between where you two were joined, rubbing your clit gently and sometimes, teasing him by moving further and caressing his shaft as if emerged and sunk back into your heat. 

“Fuck- fuck- don’t do that.”

You cocked your head to the side, bobbing with each snap of his hips, “Do what?”

Your playful ignorance ignited a more severe side of him and his hand came up and wrapped around your throat, “Don’t- fuck, you like that don’t you? You like it when I’m rough with you?”

It was true, the moment his hand wrapped around your throat possessively, you clenched around him and nearly came. You could be just as brazen though.

Before he knew it, your hands intertwined in his hair, pulling him close to you. Your mouth was on his lips, kissing him with a fever that took him off guard. Lips interlocking, you sucked on his plump bottom lip before forcing your tongue down his throat that he greedily took in.

Suddenly and without warning, Aemond thrusted forward, driving deeper inside you and groaning against your lips as he came harder than he ever had. You felt the hot spend coating your insides and nearly sent you over the edge as he pulsated, hot and heavy in your cunt.

His lips slowly fell from your own as he came down from his high and pulled back, looking at you with a strange reverie in his eye as if he was studying a new species of animal only he had just found.

His cock, still lodged deep inside of you as you ground yourself against him, making him break his trance and hiss in overstimulation; pulling out of you. “You lied,” you said simply as his cum started dripping down your thighs. “But I guess that’s all you ever do, isn’t it?”

His eye searched your own, a confused look on his face. “You said you’d shut up and we both got to come. Only you came and I didn’t. Oh, and you didn’t shut up. You talked a whole lot.”

He chuckled, turning off the shower and kicking the drenched pile of clothes off to the side, “Well, I know how I can fix that.” He took your hand and moved you to sit down on the shower floor. “Lay your pretty head on those clothes and spread your legs.”

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[huramuna]

blue dove - oneshot request.

dark aemond x best friend / modern

request: Helloo! Can I get a dark modern aemond who is in love with best friend reader and is possessive and jealous whenever reader meets a guy and aemond does everything he can to keep reader to himself only with smut plss😊😊🙏

warnings: smut (specifics under the cut), possessive aemond, gaslighting, manipulation, toxic dynamic, aemond is his own warning here. reader isn't described, she/her pronouns. work is 18+, minors do not interact or you shall be smited.

word count: 3.7k

a/n: this is my first time posting smut & also writing it in a long time-- leave a like and comment if you liked it! <;3

paparazzi - lady gaga • baby hotline - jack stauber's micropop

content: p in v, unprotected sex, fingering, pussy slapping, hair pulling, copious biting, creampie, breeding kink, belly bulge

She had a few constants in her life, things that would never change, no matter how hard she tried. 

One; she would never be able to drive herself anywhere. She was befallen to being a frequenter of public transport, cycling, and whatever other benign thing she could rope herself into that didn’t involve getting behind the wheel of a car. 

Two (which tied into one); she would always suffer from crippling anxiety. She didn’t know why she was this way, nor could she fix it. She tried every cure— smoking, medication, meditation, hypnosis, and other obscure treatments. She used to be a bright and sprightly child, shining with confidence and determination— she had all the makings to become something special.

She was in all of the gifted classes, read well above her grade, was an eloquent writer and an aspiring artist. Until, of course— something in her snapped. Around the age of hitting puberty, rather than blossoming into what she should’ve been, she wilted. Wilted into a shadow of what she was, who she was. Suddenly, her gifted mind turned into one that was average at best, and at her worst, stuck into remedial classes. 

She hardly remembers who she was— and dreams of what could’ve been. 

The third thing tied everything up into a bow; Aemond Targaryen. Her best friend since elementary school, they’d always been glued at the hip. Even now, almost two decades later. He had seen her at her best and her worst— and so had she. 

They were both on the smaller side as kids, scrawny and short— this made them an easy target for bullies and the like; how it usually goes. After Aemond lost his eye, she became fiercely protective over him, even throwing out a few punches and getting beaten into the dirt if anyone said anything untoward to him. 

That was when they were kids, though— when she was fierce and lively. Their roles have somewhat reversed now. Aemond grew into himself, shooting up to well above her height, while she stayed sort of small. He protected her when anyone looked at her the wrong way, even if she didn’t see it.

They were both twenty-six now, sharing a birthday just a few days apart. They were always close in everything. 

It was a crisp autumn day, her oversized sweater rippling slightly in the growing breeze. Shivering, she knocked on the door of Aemond’s flat. 

“Aem,” she hummed softly, “I’m here.”

A few moments later, the door opened— in all his six foot tall glory, Aemond. His hair was down and a bit messy. A plain white shirt and gray sweatpants were his lounge clothes of choice, it seemed. 

He perked a brow, “Didn’t feel like using your key?” he asked, moving aside so she could walk in. 

“Oh— yeah, the key,” she scratched the back of her head with a halfhearted chuckle, “I forget— and I don’t wanna just barge in…”

“You aren’t barging,” he mused with a small smirk, “I gave you a key for a reason— I trust you. Aegon doesn’t even have a key.” 

She kicked off her boots, “Well, Aegon is an idiot— he would just come here to raid your fridge and steal all your… expensive liquor,” she giggled, genuinely. Unwrapping the scarf from her neck, she instantly felt herself warming back up, “I don’t get how you like that stuff anyhow— it tastes like… spicy brown piss or something.” 

Aemond snorted, “It's top shelf whiskey, my dear. Not ‘spicy brown piss’ as you so lovingly put it,” his hand reached out to her bare neck, thumbing over her throat for a moment before he walked towards the balcony, sliding the door open. Lighting up a cigarette, he took a deep drag, “You just don’t have a sophisticated enough palate to get it, dove.” 

She let out a mock indignant snort, moving to the couch, “I have a sophisticated enough palate when it comes to things that are actually good— like well-marbled beef or earthy mushrooms stewed with thyme and garlic. Not alcohol,” she scrunched her nose, “That shit will kill you, Aem,” her eyes flicked to his cigarette. Another one of her one-and-done vices she used to have— her and Aemond started together, as she’d heard it might help her anxiety. It didn’t help, and tasted horrible, so she quit the next week. 

Aemond, however, didn’t quit. That was eight years ago. When Aemond fancied something, he never gave up; that she knew for a fact. He gave one of his signature toothy grins, blowing smoke in her direction, “Lots of things will kill me, dove. If I die from smoking, so be it.” he took another drag, a deep and performative one. 

She let out a quiet ‘hmpf’ noise, grabbing her phone out of her pocket. They were used to sitting in silence with each other, leaving one another to their own devices— as long as they were in the room together, it was fine. 

Aemond watched her as he finished up his cigarette. When she would look up, he would look away, as if he wasn’t just staring a hole through her. She could feel his gaze— his blind, milky blue eye boring into her, while his undamaged eye observed her like she was a specimen underneath a microscope. 

Every expression, every minute movement of her face was absorbed by him. He knew her better than she knew herself— and that was fine with her. She hardly knew herself anymore, anyways.

Her jaw clenched as she looked through her phone, scrolling through messages. The quietest of sighs left her, deflating her ever so slightly. 

“What is it?” Aemond asked, suddenly appearing next to her, settling down on the couch. 

She blinked profusely a few times— he was so silent when he wanted to be. She locked her phone and put it aside, “Oh— that guy I’ve been talking to… we were supposed to go out tonight. Apparently something came up…” her voice trailed off as she looked down at her hands, cracking her knuckles idly; one of her nervous habits. 

Aemond’s jaw clenched, his hand flexing slightly— then he relaxed, “I’m sorry, dove,” he murmured, “Maybe we can do something tonight, just the two of us? I’ll order Thai.” 

She continued to crack her knuckles, “I-I dunno— I don’t want to be a burden. We don’t have to do this every time a guy cancels on me…” 

It had become a longstanding tradition for takeout at Aemond’s flat when she got ghosted by a guy— which admittedly, happened a lot. 

His hands were on hers in an instant, eclipsing them and prying them apart, “Stop that,” he said firmly, “You are not a burden. You never will be a burden. I won’t hear another word of that shit, got it?” 

She fidgeted slightly at his harsh tone, but nodded, “… can we get Italian tonight instead of Thai?” 

His tone and demeanor softened instantly at her acquiescence, “Of course, dove.” he gave her hands a quick, firm squeeze before letting go— one of his hands resting against her neck, arm wrapped around her. 

They feasted and laughed all night, watching some of their favorite shows; overdramatic reality cooking competitions. They bickered back and forth about who should’ve won, who should’ve cooked what and who they think should’ve been eliminated. 

At the end of the night, she was exhausted, leaning against him. She had eaten enough pasta to feed a small horse. 

“Don’t think I’ll make it back to mine tonight Aem,” she mumbled, her forehead pressed against his arm, “Too bloated. Might fall asleep on the train if I try to go home— can I stay here tonight?” 

“You don’t even have to ask,” he said softly, his hand caressed behind her head. He always got touchy-feely late at night like this, and she didn’t wholly mind— it made her feel special. 

She usually wasn’t keen on physical touch from anyone but Aemond, no one else got it right. She had a few flings in college and they all ended sourly— all of her romantic ventures seemed to end sourly. Aemond, however, was always there— always there to pick up the pieces, to tell her that she is worth it, to make her feel like she mattered. 

It was him— always him, wasn’t it? 

The realization dawned on her, making her heart ping-pong in her chest. She… loved him. She did, didn’t she?

“You can sleep in my bed, if you want,” he suggested softly, unaware of her inner turmoil. 

She felt like her eyes bulged out of her head at that proposition, “Uh-uh,” she managed to croak, “Don’t wanna take up your space n’ all that…” 

He didn’t press the issue. “Goodnight, dove.” 

She wrapped herself in a blanket, getting comfortable on the couch— as much as she could, anyhow. Eventually, from sheer exhaustion alone, she drifted off to sleep. 

When she woke up, she didn’t know what time it was— it was still dark outside. She blinked a few times, looking around. It took her a minute to remember she was at Aemond’s. 

Her eyes, blurry with sleep, landed on a figure— Aemond, illuminated in the darkness across from her. He was holding his phone— no, that was her phone. 

He was looking intently at something, holding his phone in his free hand, typing something into it, obviously from her phone. 

Why was Aemond on her phone? Not that she minded, of course, she had nothing to hide— but what… what would be so interesting that he was saving from her phone to his? 

“Aem?” she murmured softly, “What are you doing?” 

A moment of panic went over his face— she caught this immediately, as she could count all of the times on one hand she’d ever seen him make that look. That is when she knew something was wrong. 

“Nothing, dove— go back to sleep.” he cooed, trying to sound as soft and soothing as possible. 

But it didn’t work, her guard was up, her suspicions raised. She got up from the couch, “Aemond. What are you doing?” she asked again, a bit more firm. 

“Nothing— I just needed… to get something off of your phone.” he said, still obviously hiding something. 

“What would you need off of my phone?” she pressed, walking up and snatching it back from him. 

On the screen— it was her dating app profile. The list of messages of all of the people she’d talked to were pulled up, including all of their personal information. 

“Um… what— Aemond, why are you looking at all of their profiles?” 

He stared at her for a long moment, his brow furrowed. He finally spoke after a stretch of silence, “I had to. I had to, you know. They aren’t worthy of you, none of them.” he said, his voice taking a serious note. 

Shivers ran down her spine, “Aem— what the fuck are you talking about?” 

“They needed to be told that you were already spoken for— that they needed to back off.” he moved a bit closer to her, his closeness suddenly oppressive. 

She shook her head, still not understanding, “I-I don’t… wh—,” 

He was on her then, grabbing her hands as they went to crack her knuckles, his grip on her tight, “They aren’t fucking good enough for you— no one is— no one except me, dove,” he growled low, his one seeing pupil blown wide like a predator, “You really think that every man you tried to go out with willingly ghosted you? Sweetheart, you can’t be that dumb.” 

Suddenly, it all began to make sense. All of her failed attempts to date after college were failures— and it wasn’t because of her. It was because of Aemond. 

She had spent years thinking that it was her fault, her inadequacies— 

“Look at me,” he grunted, one of his hands going to her chin, forcing her gaze upward. Tears were streaming down her face, “I did it for you— for us— I am the only one capable of loving you,” his thumb caressed her bottom lip, parting it ever so slightly, “You think that anyone else on this planet would be able to handle you— besides me? I know you better than you know yourself. No one else would be able to handle all of your little quirks, your insecurities, your fears, your anxieties— but I will and I do.”

She sniffed, “I-if you liked me that way— why wouldn’t you just tell me?” 

The pad of his thumb swiped the gathered wetness from her lip, “I’m patient— I’ve been patient— I needed you to realize,” his thumb slipped between her lips, pressing down onto the soft of her tongue, earning a small whimper from her, “That I’m the one— that you and I were made for each other, hm?” 

She garbled a tiny reply, but it didn’t come through from his digit suppressing her tongue. Even through this— it felt like betrayal in some aspect to her— she couldn’t help but feel… warmth. Something akin to sickening elation. The good and bad parts of her were fighting, her emotions swirling within her. 

He removed his thumb from her mouth, smearing her lips with her own saliva. He craned his neck downward, “Don’t you want me, dove?” he whispered, his lips ghosting over hers. They were exchanging breaths, sharing their oxygen between one another without actually touching yet. 

She was still crying— but she nodded slowly, “Y-yes,” she murmured. After all— he was right, wasn’t he? Who else would deal with her? Who else would love her?

He lifted his hand to her neck— he always had loved to rest it there, why hadn’t she seen it before? — his fingers pressing ever so gently against her skin. He closed the almost nonexistent gap between them, their lips pressing together. 

She hummed a tearful whimper as they kissed, the delightful warmth spreading throughout her body, mingling with the sting of betrayal and disgust. Eventually, his tongue invaded her mouth, lips moving together as if he wanted to fully consume her. She’d never been kissed so desperately before— it was as if he was starving. 

They fell into a rhythm, his hand lowering from her neck down to her collarbone, tracing the very being of her. She didn’t know what to do with her hands— her fists were white-knuckled, clenching at his shirt as if to hold on for dear life.

His large hand palmed her breast, immediately eliciting a response from her in the form of a gasp. She felt him smile against her mouth, pulling back ever so slightly, “So responsive for me already— I knew you’d be,” he hummed, his thumb rasping over her sensitive nipple, causing it to harden immediately. It sent shivers straight to her core, where she felt a growing wetness.

He shifted them back to the couch, placing her on his lap, “I’ve been waiting for this for years,” he growled, nipping at the soft flesh of her neck, “I’ve been in love with you since we met— all of that time. I’m a patient man,” he continued, leaving little red marks on her skin, biting gently, then kissing, “I let you have your fun in college— I let you fuck your way through a few guys, letting that first one take your virginity— should’ve been me,” Aemond bit down into her shoulder, slowly moving his way down her body. His hands lifted her shirt off easily, practically snapping the wires of her bra in tow. “Now, my dove, we are going to make up for lost time, hm?” 

He tossed her bra aside, her breasts, well endowed as she was, rested heavily upon her chest. He pawed at one right away, her nipple pebbling into a stiff peak. 

“Why didn’t you tell me— why,” she mewled. It’d been so long since she’d been touched this way, and never so attentively. Her skin felt like it was on fire. 

“I needed you to realize it,” he explained, biting at her nipple. She let out a cry, earning a laugh from him, “I only needed a little more time. Too bad you’re a light sleeper, hm?” 

Her body felt tight and hot, as if she was going to melt if she didn’t relieve some of the growing ache between her legs. She felt his hardness— pretty significantly, in fact— pressing against her pelvis. Almost out of primal need, she began rocking her hips against it, hoping for some friction. 

“Needy girl,” he admonished, “But I’m a giver, aren’t I?” his hand slipped beneath the waistband of her pants, down to her damp core. “So fucking wet for me already, hm? Just needed me to tell you that I love you and you’re practically gushing in my lap.” 

His fingers parted her folds, honing in on her clit almost immediately. She fidgeted, pressing her head to his neck, breathing heavily against his skin. He worked at a slow pace at first— but she didn’t need much to begin barreling towards her first peak. 

Aemond’s free hand snaked into her hair, yanking her back from his neck, “Don’t hide,” he purred, “I want to see your face when you come on my fingers, dove.” 

She looked a mess, her face red and tear stained, kiss swollen lips parted as she whimpered in pleasure. She wasn’t loud in bed by any means— her little whines and moans were enough. 

The cord within her began unraveling, slowly, slowly, as the pleasure intensified. He was able to achieve a level of euphoria that she could never do with her own fingers, nor could any other man. 

“Aem, Aem— f-fuck,” she cried, tears still streaming down her face, “S’close, p-please.”

He grunted a moan in response, as if the act of getting her off was getting him off in turn, “Come on, let go for me.” 

The pleasant feeling of wetness turned into a rush of pure ecstasy as she reached her peak, whimpering unintelligible praises while struggling to keep her eyes open. 

“That’s it,” he cooed encouragingly, “Fucking beautiful.” 

He kept up his ministrations on her pearl well after she came, causing her to squirm, “Too much, too much,” she murmured, a fresh string of tears falling down her cheeks. 

The sight of her tears made him throb a bit— it was a wonder he lasted this long without fucking her already. He stopped his assault on her clit, prodding his fingers into her mouth so she could taste herself, then he licked them clean himself. 

Shifting their positions slightly, he laid her down gently on the couch on her stomach as he pulled his sweatpants down. She glanced back, zeroing in on his member— he had a sizable length and girth, his tip messy and wet from her grinding earlier. Her mouth felt dry and wet all at the same time and she swallowed harshly.

He wiggled her pants and panties down her legs, her now soaked undergarments sticking to her folds. He gave her a playful swat between the legs, causing her to jump. 

“So sensitive,” he hummed, pulling up her posterior in the air. His hand smacked lightly against her bottom before gripping it, “This; is mine,” he moved his hand down between her legs, pinching her clit, “This is also mine.” 

She let out a mewling moan, keening under his possessive declarations— she found herself not only blooming in pleasure between her legs at such language, but her heart wrenched and wrought against her chest in a delightful pain. She wondered if this is what it was like to be in love. 

“This changes everything, you know,” he said as he positioned behind her, moving the head of his cock between her legs, gathering the wetness there and creating a sticky friction. “There isn’t going back to the way things were— you are well and truly mine now, dove.” he cooed before easing himself inside of her, hissing lowly at the tight fit. 

He bottomed out in her quickly, his member prodding against her sweet spot. Aemond let her adjust to his size for a minute— while also focusing to ensure that he didn’t come immediately. After a few moments, she relaxed— so he began to move. 

His pace was slow and meticulous, filling every nook and cranny of her, committing the shape of her to memory. He paid close attention to when she would clench when he hit that spongy sweet spot, her hand going to the arm of the couch to find purchase, anything so she still felt like she had control. 

Her mouth was agape, strings of saliva wetting the leather couch. “A-Aem— p-please,” she simpered, asking for what— she didn’t know, she just needed more.

He took it as a spur to increase his pace, the room filled with her tiny whines, his grunts and skin slapping against skin. His arm hooked under her chest and pulled her back, switching their position to where she was pressed against his back. His legs hooked between hers and pried them open, “Keep them open, sweetheart,” Aemond bit into her neck once more, leaving a few more additions to her growing collection of marks by him, “Need more of these on you, then there won’t be a,” his stopped as he groaned, his pace quickening, “fucking doubt in anyone’s mind who you belong to– you’re mine, always been mine– fuck.” his mouth was upon her ear, muttering sweet nothings to her as his free hand pressed her flat to his chest. He thrusted upward, taking her hand and putting it over her abdomen– the bulge of him inside of her could be felt, “Mine have, mine to hold, mine to fuck– mine to breed,” his breath quickened– he was close.

The double entendre of feeling the bulge inside of her and the head of his cock bullying that sweet, spongy spot just right– pushed her over the edge for the second time. She clenched and fluttered around him, earning an animalistic growl from him as he came, ropes of his seed coating her walls.

They stayed like that for a while, his cock softening inside of her while she regained her breath, coming to terms with the situation she was in. Soon enough, he pulled out, his seed dripping out of her. The stimulation to her already battered core made her squirm. 

He leaned forward, still encircling her, encompassing her in his arms. “Tell me that you love me.”

She didn’t know when she started crying again– or perhaps she’d been crying the whole time. She sniffed, acquiescing, “I love you, Aemond.”

#aemond fic #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen #aemond x oc #hotd aemond #aemond x fem!reader #aemond #aemond one eye #hotd fic #aemond fanfic #aemond fluff #aemond smut #dark aemond smut #modern aemond smut #dark modern aemond #modern aemond #dark aemond #dark aemond targaryen #dark aemond angst #aemond targaryen smut #hotd smut #aemond angst #my writing

[asumofwords]

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.

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.”

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[myfandomprompts]

Unhealthy Addiction

(drugdealer!Aemond x Reader)

Synopsis: Your sister is a drug addict, at the mercy of a dreaded drug dealer group led by a mysterious man. When you decide to save your sister from this life that kills her, you didn’t expect to build a whole other addiction to a perfect stranger.

A/N: Just some illogical & weird moderndark!Aemond smut in the October mood.

Words: 5.6k Masterlist

Warnings: dirty talk, dom, oral , vaginal, fingering, manipulation, possessive, begging, light bdsm, slight mention of drugs, praising

Your sister was at her lowest.

She kept screaming at you, scaring the neighbours, alarming the entire street when she went into one of her tantrums and you didn’t know what to do. She was hurting, a pain that only something chemical could ease and you refused to indulge her. This was all she had in mind, getting that fix, and she didn’t mind doing the most violent things, saying the cruellest things to you in order to plead her case.

She kept screaming how she could not be done, how she bought all the drugs from this scary guy, that he convinced her to sell for him. That she couldn’t refuse.

She had no control over herself anymore, but you didn't back down, you had to get her clean.

So you decided that you would take care of it for her. 

You made her tell you where she got it from, a shady little place on Silk Street with shady people going around all day and night with business even the police didn’t even dare looking into as you forced her down to the ER. If it was the last link that tied her to this life and her addiction, you would cut it, and, as she dozed off in her hospital bed, you rushed to her flat in apprehension, grabbing the bag full of those terrifying substances and heading down to Silk Street.

You knew it was a bad idea, but you knew you had to do it. You just had to give the bag back, explain to them that your sister wanted nothing to do with them anymore, pay up whatever amount was necessary to make them forget about her and leave.

How naive you were.

You knock on the scruffy-looking door with a trembling hand, the chilly night already settling around you as dogs barked in the distance. 

The door creaks open, dim light filtering through a slim screen of smoke that comes out of the  messy room. The few people inside look concerningly calm, the soothing electronic music making their head bob inconsistently as the smell of weed slowly reaches you and tickles your nose.

“What?” the huge man at the door says in a flat tone, tattoos on his face but alert eyes strained on you.

“I… have stuff to give back to you,” you courageously state, staring back at him with all the fierceness you could muster and only earning an unimpressed look.

You owed it to your sister, you could do it.

He gauges your appearance mercilessly, unfit for this place and only when you take out the heavy plastic bag out of your purse does he nod silently and step aside to let you in. 

You retain a cough, the scent of smoke becoming much stronger as you enter and making your eyes sting. Several pairs of eyes which weren’t hooded and gazing into the void looked lazily at you, eyes so dark there was no more colour in them, swallowed by the blackness of their centre. Two or three men stared at you like they would jump at you at the first false movement while the few women present were half laying on the couches, mouth open in what looked like delight, but you knew better.

A chill goes up your spine, hearing the door close behind you in a sharp snap while you feel the air shift around you.

You did not belong here.

“Who are you?”

The man came out of nowhere, brown skin and brown eyes, luxurious dark hair falling to the side of his face and all dressed in white with a heavy chain hanging around his neck. He scrutinises you, looking you up and down with a judgmental frown.

“It doesn’t matter,” you state after a difficult swallow. “I’m here to return this.”

The man eyes the bag you extend to him, a flash of recognition passing through his features but he doesn’t take it, rather deepening his frown. “Where did you get this?”

You bite your lips, growing uneasy under his gaze. All that you wanted was to leave this place as quickly as possible, even if you had to lie to achieve that. “Maria doesn’t want to do this anymore, and we don’t want any problems. So I’m doing the right thing, and returning it to you.”

The man sneers, an amused smile dancing on his lips and you tense. “Yeah, I’m afraid it doesn’t work like that, sweetheart. You’re her sister, aren’t you?”

You don’t have time to answer as the man at the door approaches him with a serious look on his face, ignoring you. “Cole, the boss is back.” 

“Perfect timing, he’ll want to see this,” the man named Cole answers without taking his eyes off you. “You’re coming with me, sweetheart. We’ll sort this out, don’t worry.”

You could feel it, the trap closing in on you as he takes the bag from your hands and turns away for you to follow him. “I just want to give you this and leave. Please.”

He gives you an uninterested look over his shoulder, shrugging. “It’s not up to me.”

You shiver as panic starts to fill your nerves, the desire to flee, to run becoming stronger but you make the sensible choice and do as you’re told. 

He leads you into a cold-lighted room where the sole wide window is draped with a thick grey curtain and blocks your view of the humid night. The carpet floor is dirty, rendering you uncomfortable as you advance further into the room, chairs and stools stacked along the walls and an old looking desk standing at the opposite side. Even the huge couch below the window isn’t welcoming, the mess on the low table in front of it is filled with objects you don’t recognise.

You shouldn't be here.

Cole throws the bag on the table unceremoniously, the sound startling you as he commands you to wait. “Don’t touch anything.”

You try to settle your breathing, the room suffocating you as you realise that you are stuck, led there by a fool’s hope of coming to an understanding with these men, with dangerous people. You recall the frightened look on your sister’s face as she yelled at you, saying that she couldn’t fail them, couldn’t upset them.

Maybe you should have listened to her. Maybe you should have been scared too.

Muffled whispers filter through the door over the faint music, making you turn around with renewed anxiety as you recognise Cole’s voice. You know your time is running out, and you have no idea what’s going to happen. But then the door opens and you freeze.

It isn’t Cole, but someone much taller, leaner, terrifyingly attractive. 

He has long silver hair, silk cascading down over his shoulders that are wrapped around a dark green vest. He wears black trousers, matching with his tee-shirt that clings to his form and contrasts with his skin, fair and white. He effortlessly radiated an unsettling confidence, which you could feel even from a distance, making every muscle in your body tense, and you don’t know where to look. He hasn't even spoken yet.

His eyes are fixed on you, a perverted glow shining within them but you can’t meet it, too focused on the angular features of his face, on how flawless his marble skin and thin red lips look under the dim light. Everything about him is captivating, from his collarbone that peaks from under his shirt to the long scar that runs across his left cheek and further up his eye.

At this moment, you understood why your sister had been scared.

He stares at you for a while before finally smiling briefly in unconcealed satisfaction and closing the door. You don’t move, too stunned to utter a single word as he slowly walks towards the table to pick up the plastic bag and examine it closely, humming to himself. You watch, speechless, noticing the red marks over his knuckles, the bruises that stain his fist and you swallow the taste of iron in your mouth. 

The bag is carelessly dropped again as he reaches for a cigarette within his vest without a word, fingers enticingly coming to trap it between his lips and you’re hypnotised, desperate for him to acknowledge you, to say something. But then he flicks the lighter, casting an orange flame on the upper side of his face and you can’t help but gasp.

Unnoticed in the dim light, you can see it now, see how one of his eyes shimmers an icy blue, while the other one shone darker, deeper.

Blue as the night sky.

“You’re Maria’s sister?”

His voice makes you jump, his deep and velvety tone making the hair stand at the back of your neck and your heart race in your chest.

“Y-Yes,” you stammer, words coming out of your throat in strained sounds.  “Yes, I am.”

He nods, one corner of his lips curving upwards slightly as he takes a drag, making a thin curtain of smoke escape his sharp nose. “And you’re here because…?”

You manage to swallow the lump in your throat as he draws closer, intelligent eyes searching your features, making you hyper aware of how small you are compared to him. “I… just want to give the drugs back, so she can leave this part of her life behind. We won’t cause any trouble, I-I promise.”

He stops inches in front of you, his body going rigid as his eyes turn a shade of black, making you take a step back in reaction. “And what makes you think I can let that happen?”

You widen your eyes at the soft-spoken threat, freezing as you cower under his gaze.

He sees this. It makes him smile. 

“Relax, kitten. I'm not going to hurt you…” he says in the same unsettling tone as his blue eye lowers to the way your chest heaves under your shirt. “It’s just… not how we do things. When you take my stuff, you make a commitment, and you have to go all the way through with it or you get punished. There is no return policy.”

You could see it now, right beneath the scar, the gemstone shoved inside of his eye socket, as blue as the starless sky. It glowed softly, beautifully, and you were left to wonder how a man like him could be so dangerously pretty.

You urgently chase the thought away, slapping yourself internally as you feel yourself shrink under his gaze. “She can’t-,” you try uselessly, feeling the noose slowly constricting around your neck. “I understand, but I’ll pay for you to take it back. I beg of you, it represents almost nothing for you. Please…”

Something noticeably shifts in his eye at your last word, his nostrils flaring as he takes some time to compose himself before asking. “What’s your name?”

You hesitate, thrown off by the question and unable to come up with the simple answer and he grows impatient at your silence. He takes a firm step forward, making the back of your knee hit the chair behind you as the faint heat from the tip of his cigarette reaches your sides somewhere over the skin of your hand.

“What’s. Your. Name?” he repeats slowly, a hint of darkness in his voice.

“Y/N,” you finally blurt out, barely hearing your own voice as he claims your space like it’s his own, prowling.

His lips form silent syllables as he repeats your name to himself, finally satisfied. “And do you know mine, kitten?”

You silently shake your head, feeling excitement rise at the prospect of knowing, shameful eagerness taking hold of your mind, not thinking for a second that it might anger him.

But he only clicks his tongue in disapproval, watching you like you’re nothing more than a nuisance. “I’m Aemond, and if you had known that, kitten, you wouldn’t be here. Because everybody fucking knows I don’t take things back.”

Your nerves stir in renewed fright as his words ring like a death sentence in your ears. You have to find something, anything that would suit him, please him, but your mind draws a blank, the intensity of his gaze holding you in place. You remain silent as he takes a drag from his cigarette, not tearing his eye from you and when he suddenly turns away, it leaves a cold trail of chills along your spine.

You let out a quiet sigh of relief, your lungs burning from your previous lack of air as he wanders around the room.

“I take it you don’t use?” he says unexpectedly as he crushes his cigarette in the ashtray before taking the bag again on the table, drawing a round white pill out with his usual soft tone.

“No…” you answer weakly as he rolls the pill between his fingers, your eyes following the movement, transfixed.

“Mh… You’re one of those… The ones that don’t take wrong turns, the good girls.”

The stress that had settled between your ribs turns into something warmer at the calling, his tone inexplicably making the last ounce of courage you have left emerge. 

“If I didn’t take any wrong turns, I wouldn't have ended up here.”

He stills, his eye darting towards you like a single-eyed hawk and you bite your lips in instant regret, almost drawing blood as teeth sink into the thin flesh. His eye lowers to it and you instantly let go with a bashful expression.

He chuckles darkly, a devious smirk appearing on his features and you blink. “See, this is where you’re wrong. I don’t think you’ve realised the opportunity you just walked into… Y/N.”

You feel your stomach turn as reality hits you, your worst fear taking shape right in front of your eyes. Whatever he wanted with you, you could not let it happen, you could not fail your sister and get into the system like she did. She needed you. “Please, Aemond, I only want to be square with you and-”

There was a loud sound, plastic being crushed under immense force as his hand wrapped around the bag and violently squeezed. He took a deep shaky breath, his flashing gaze fixed on you as his knuckles turned white under the pressure. But it was gone seconds later, acting like it had never happened as he dropped the bag and started walking towards you.

“I used, once. This is how it all began,” he stated, a single slender finger brushing the edge of the table as he advanced. “I wasn’t really addicted, but I knew it was enough to cloud my mind, to make me believe that I needed it. But do you want to know what I really need, kitten? Why I stopped?”

You tried to hold his gaze when he lifted a single heated eye at you, excited by his little story, excited by something. He was in his element, he had the upper hand, he knew he was in control. You were only a slave to the fiery blood in your veins.

His finger had reached your arm by the time you registered his question, looming over it like a reverse magnet, untouching. He smiles when he sees chills prickle over your skin there, right before his pupils spread wider, an ink drop in water and you hold your breath.

“I like people begging me. I like the desperation in their voices, their scared little expressions as they mutter pathetic excuses, their pleas as I beat them…” You can feel the thrill in his tone, the pleasure that radiates off him, and you gasp when his finger finally touches your skin, burning. “I like hearing them beg me when they realise there is no escape, when they realise I’m the only solution, that I alone can give them what they want…I like this sensation of control, and I need to feel it on my own terms. Without any substances."

His hand has travelled down your arm, finding your pulse and you feel the thrumming of your heart meet his fingertips, pressing the delicate vein there. You wonder if he can feel your blood running within it, hot and wild. 

“You know, when Cole told me there was a lost pretty girl that wanted a refund, I laughed and could not wait to scare that girl. How naive she must be, how foolish. Coming here, wanting nothing more but to protect her poor little sister, asking what I cannot grant you, thinking you’ll get out of it like it’s nothing and not realising the mess you’re in. Just… perfect.”

You want to talk, argue, but you had stopped breathing altogether when his face leans slightly closer to your shoulder and you hear him breathe in your scent, humming within your neck. 

“But then, here you are… Pleading me, not once, but three times, kitten, with your sweet little tone of yours and I just-” he inhales brusquely, his pupil now completely blown out as you tremble beneath him. When he manages to talk again, his voice has dropped several octaves lower, guttural. “And now, let’s say that scaring you is not the only thing I want to do to you.”

The air feels sucked out of the room as tension fills it, palpable within the silence and you retain a whimper. His hold on your wrist turns stronger, as if to mark it, your pulse constricted beneath his fingers and you suddenly feel dizzy, gravity pulling you backward as you lose balance. You drop in the chair behind you like a stringless marionette, overthrown by him and his overwhelming presence.

He doesn’t flinch, neither does he comment as he leans over you, strong arms resting on the armrests at each side of you, trapping you as if he had planned everything. You huff when the tip of his hair grazes the skin of your cleavage, a silver curtain dropping under his face.

“So we're going to try this once…. Say please to me again, and I might reconsider your sister's situation.”

A ray of hope cuts through your foggy mind at his words, determination spurring within you as your treacherous tongue already rolls to form the words, eager to please him despite the lack of air in your lungs. “Please...”

The wood at your side cracks as he tightens his grip on the armrest, a repressed hiss dying within his throat as he composes himself again, hooded eye fixed on you, smothering.

“Hm… Yes,” he breathes, content visible on his features. “But the thing is, kitten, your sister was useful to me. She had access to people I didn’t, people like you. I’m sure you can see why it’s difficult for me to let her go.”

You know he is taunting you, dragging out what he wants from you and you know you have no choice but to indulge him, you need to indulge him. “She won’t survive if she keeps on, please.”

You can feel it, the pleasure he takes out of it, the delectable sensation he draws from your words as he licks his lips, a devious smirk tugging at them as he speaks slowly. “And what about you… Kitten?”

The near whisper makes your spine go rigid, his nose coming to loom over the junction of your jaw and you truly try to answer. “I- I don’t understand…”

He is the first to notice as his eyes are drawn to the sudden movement of your body under him: how tightly your thighs are clenched together, how tense you are as you shift, muscle tenses.

You blush shamefully, untying your legs to try to soothe the ache there as well as the heat pooling between them. He lifts a knowing eyebrow, observing you with excitement. "Hm… Not such a good girl after all, are you, kitten?”

He slowly lowers himself, broad hands coming to stroke the length of your thighs from your knees to your hips, the heat of his palms scorching you through your jeans and you repress a whimper, failing. “Did begging me turn you on, kitten?” 

His voice is hoarse, playful. You notice his own arousal pressing against the fabric of his pants and it makes your legs widen, watching helplessly as your body responds to your primal urges. “Do you need me to touch you? Is that what you want?”

You struggle, trying to fight what had been evolving since he had entered the room but you find yourself overpowered by your desire, submerged by it. "Yes…"

He arches his eyebrow higher. "Yes, what?"

"Yes, please."

He almost groans as he slowly comes to unbutton your jeans, a warm hand sliding under it and your stomach tenses when he connects with your dampness. "Fuck, kitten. Do you want to say please to me again?” 

He rises, giving himself a better angle as he comes to close his face over yours, suffocating as he waits for an answer out of you. When you give him none, he proceeds to grab your chin, pressing your cheeks between his fingers as he continues to stroke the heat between your thighs.

His face is close as he breathes your ragged breaths. “Lost your tongue?”

His gaze is unforgiving, his lips parted in delectation as you moan under him, and you suddenly feel the need to taste them, to chase them.

The movement makes him pull back, tutting as he grips your cheeks tighter. “That was bad. Very bad of you.”

You let out a plaintive whimper when he steps away, his hands departing your wet core and mouth as he comes to stand before you, jaw hanging low, slightly panting. His gaze is fixed on your glistening skin despite the harshness of it, a punishing glare within his eye as he lowers his jeans and briefs in order to free his bulging girth. You feel your mouth salivate as he starts pumping himself in wide long strokes, gaze transfixed on your face.

You’re unable to look away, heaving and hands gripping the wood of the chair tightly. You don’t realise the grinding of your hips against the surface of the chair, unconsciously chasing for what he robbed you of, wanting.

“Stop that,” he commands in a strained voice as precum starts leaking from his tip. You immediately obey, your body stilling as he comes closer, a pang hitting your core at the sight of his continuous movement over him. “You want a taste, kitten?”

One of his hands reaches for your hair, fingers tangling in them softly as he continues to stroke himself steadily, looking down at you with parted lips and he almost purrs when you nod bashfully. He guides you on the floor, eyes blown wide as he makes you kneel before him by a slight pull of your hair. You lick your lips in expectation, soothed by his hand within your strands and feeling the heat radiating off of him. 

You feel warmth spread within your cheek as you approach but he suddenly yanks your hair strongly, holding you into place in a hiss. “Then beg for it.”

He has stopped his ministrations over himself, rather squeezing the base of his shaft and making the already swollen tip inflate with blood as he watches you with a harsh and wild blue eye. You have to swallow the saliva that has accumulated in your mouth to talk. “Please, I want you in my mouth, Aemond.”

He groans as he lets go of his throbbing cock and loosen his hold over your scalp, allowing you to finally run a playful tongue along his length and wrap your hands around him, appeased by the sounds you draw out of him. “That’s it… Good girl.”

You try to go slow, hollowing your cheeks while you take him deeper and deeper, but as the minutes pass you feel the pressure of his hand in your hair tighten. The next moment he is claiming your mouth, making his tip hit at the back of your throat in loud lewd sounds as well as gag several times before he lets you go with a low growl.

You try to settle your breathing again as he wipes the single thread of saliva that connects you to his cock before probing you up by your chin, chest heaving in lust. “Do you even know how good that begging mouth feels? Do you even realise?”

You only feel the aching inside of your lower stomach heighten through your daze, and your mouth forms lazy words you don’t know the purpose of, blinking weakly. “Please, Aemond…”

“Fuck, kitten. Are you going to ask me to fuck you, is that it? Is that what you want to say?”

His thumb grazes the side of your jaw and you barely acknowledge his length against your hip, hot against your flesh. “I- Yes.”

A low grumble escapes his mouth right before you’re pushed on the sofa without warning, his hands rushing to get rid of his vest and pants before tugging at yours, forcing you to dig your hands into the cushions as he bends you over.

You quiver as your skin is met with the cool air but the next moment he moulds his chest against your back and you freeze, his mouth coming to position inches from your ear as a rough hand grabs your throat from behind, squeezing.

“From now on, kitten, you beg me for everything. You want to be touched? You beg me. You want to touch me? You beg me. You want my cock? You say please. You want to cum? You fucking ask permission. You’re gonna be extra polite for me, you understand?”

You let out a strained sound against his fingers he takes for an affirmation before taking hold of your hips, not wasting a second to align himself near your entrance and you exhale in want as he lets go of your neck. Your fists clutch the fabric of the sofa as he runs his length against your folds once, twice, and you can’t help but close your eyes in frustration, feeling his pleasure growing at what he knows you’re about to say. “Please…”

You hear his satisfied growl as his fingers presses deeper into your flesh and you let out a quick gasp as he plunges into you in a swift stroke, quickly replaced by needy moans as you feel the ache in your loins sharpen. He fills you, his thrusts growing from controlled to erratic, faint praises whispered through the sounds of smacking flesh as he roams his hand over your back, and soon you feel your muscles pulse around him in building tension.

It makes him tighten at once behind you, fingers bruising the flesh of your ass as he suddenly withdraws and with a few last strokes, spills onto your back with a ragged groan.

“Fuck, look at the mess you’ve made…” he tuts while you whimper from the sudden loss, feeling your walls pulsating over nothing as he watches his cock glistens with your fluids. “You don’t care about being dirty, do you? You just like being a good girl.”

You whine again as he spreads his seed over your lower back soothingly, not caring for the stains but rather snaking a hand under your shirt, cupping one of your breasts to squeeze it as you wiggle under him, his name on your tongue.

“What is it, kitten? Do you need to cum?” he purrs as he caresses your breast firmly, hoisting you up against him.

“Yes please, please…”

His hold tightens, his face coming close to your neck and you can feel his hot breath on your cheek as he coos. “Prettier.”

The heat in your stomach thickens, heart racing against your ribcage in nervousness and you melt into his embrace. “P-Please, I need to cum. I need you to make me cum.”

He hums in satisfaction as he turns you around, flattening you against the back of the couch and yanking your shirt over your head as he spreads your legs, his jaw dropping in elation when he slides two fingers inside of you, making your head fall back with a loud moan. Your legs barely hold you as he rubs his thumb over your clit at a consuming pace, his long fingers finding the rough spot within you as if he had known it all of his life, and you’re soon panting heavily.

His gaze is fixed on your face, enjoying every moment, every painful expression as you’re closing on your high, waiting for you to say exactly what he wants and when he feels your walls clenching around his fingers, he stops, violently squeezing your inside between his three digits.

You wail at the sensation, meeting his harsh gaze and fascinated eye and soon you let out a strained sob, your inside muscles constricting painfully. “Aren’t you forgetting something, kitten?”

You swallow with difficulty as he smiles, his grip on you merciless, unmoving and you feel your legs tremble. “Please, don’t stop, I want- I need to cum. Please, I beg you.”

“Good girls ask permission, remember?” he grunts as he starts his movement again, rough digits now too slow on your wetness. “Try again.”

“Can I please… cum,” you plead in a strained sob, gripping the back of the couch more tightly but when he starts stroking your insides again, you see nothing but white, the coiling sensation within your core finally snapping and he doesn’t stop until you’re a puddle under him, letting you sink on the couch in a ghosting embrace.

“That’s it,” he soothes, grazing your waist and breast before gently making you suck on his fingers after the last shockwaves of your climax, tasting yourself through your heavy breaths. “Such an obedient little kitten.”

You slowly start to get the control of your legs back as he wipes some sweat out of your hair, but his gaze is nothing but soothing. “Fuck, look how hard you made me again, with you begging me so sweetly…”

He slowly runs one of his hands up your thigh, his hardening state hitting your flesh briefly before he lifts your knees up, positioning his weight over each of your thighs and you blink in anticipation, too dazed to utter a word. You angle yourself better against his body, the only confirmation he needs before he plunges into you again, this time his desire is too strong to wait for you to find your composure back.

It burns, vividly so, your swollen flesh barely recovered from your previous climax and you start moaning loudly, your hand rushing to your mouth to stop the embarrassing sounds from escaping your throat.

Two hands come to snap it away, lacing them over your head in a secure hold and you sink your teeth in your flesh when you meet his fierce gaze, the roll of his hips unfaltering. “No no no, kitten. Let them hear you, hear how desperate you are for my cock, how much you like begging for it.”

“Kiss me.”

He recoils slightly, his thrust slowing gradually as his single eye widen, the black of it taking over. “I don’t kiss my pets.”

“Please...”

Your voice sounds broken, a hint of determination within it that makes him blink and you can clearly see him battling himself for a moment before he crashes his lips against yours. The suddenness of it makes you moan against him as he devours you, the roll of his hips starting again deeper, needier.

It hits every right spot despite the overstimulation and soon you feel a numbness take hold of you, goosebumps spreading over your body. “Aemond, I’m going to-”

He grunts against your mouth as his hand comes to play with your breast again, freeing one of your own in the process that you bring to his face, stroking the smooth skin there along with the scar that marks his cheek. “You’re not cumming yet, I need you to wait a little while longer, alright kitten?”

His thrust slows again and you feel the pleasurable pain of being denied once more, filled by the need to obey him. “I can’t-”

“Don’t you dare cum before I say so, be a good girl and wait for my fucking permission, you understand?”

You close your eyes in a tremendous effort not to let the stretching sensation of him rocking inside of you overcome you too fast, your back arching under him and you feel his free hand flatten against your stomach to immobilise you, shushing you in a husky tone.

You beg one last time, feeling your guts heating up with the way he is chasing his own climax with deep thrusts and you dig your nails in his shoulder.

“Fuck… Come on, kitten, come for me, you can let go.”

Your vision blurs, your eyes rolling back as you cry out, your body going numb under the shattering pleasure and you don’t register anything, not how he follows you minutes later as you clench around him nor where he spills himself. You just feel like your limbs don’t obey you anymore.

You huff, feeling Aemond’s scent and sweat envelop you and when you open your eyes he is looking down at you with a hooded eye.

His thumb massages a spot over your shoulder and a sorry expression passes on his feature as he sets a strand of your hair aside. “I can’t grant you what you asked for.”

You feel cold all of a sudden, the air biting your damp skin as his warm fingers graze your cheek, feeling your disappointment. 

“I’ll leave your sister alone, as you wished, but I’m not taking the drugs back. You’ll have to find a way to sell, as Maria promised she would.”

A wave of relief runs through you, happiness for your sister but an odd sensation takes place within your chest as the man next to you watches you with fierceness. “Because you… you’re going to be very useful to me, kitten.”

You don’t glance away, you don’t recoil.

Because you’re not sure you want to leave anyway.

Tagging @watercolorskyy and thanking @babyblue711 for the beta reading. We cannot disappoint.

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #usermyfandomprompts #aemond x reader #dark aemond #dark!aemond x reader #modern au #modern!aemond #drug dealer au #aemond smut #aemond targaryen smut #Modern aemond #Dark aemond #Aemond targaryen x you #Aemond x you

[li0nn3stuff]

Kiddo

Chapter one

Kiddo masterlist

English is not my first language, be kind.

Modern!Older!Aemond x Modern!Younger!Reader

•Chapter warnings: beginning of the obsession•

As Aemond sat at the bar during his lunch break, his colleagues from the bank company gathered around him, chatting and laughing.

It was a family company, but nothing was given off out of nepotism. He had earned it. And he earned it fucking wonderfully.

He had studied in the best schools, yes, but he had been dedicated as no one could.

His father took him to work there when he was twenty-two, then he took his degree.

He worked wonders in the company, success after success. Not that his father ever applauded him anything. It was just his job to be a good employee.

He acknowledged his success, that he did. That was the reason why when his father started to get seriously sick, he named Aemond his successor.

Because he was fucking good at what he did.

Then, it happened. His father died, and the company fell into his hands.

CEO at thirty years old.

These types of bar were not something Aemond usually frequented. He likes places more… quiet, personal. He only came because his colleagues, or well, his employees suggested it with enthusiasm.

“Keep good relationships. You have to be present in the company, for them to trust and respect you. They’ll see how much you work and they’ll never doubt a word of yours.”

Despite the jovial atmosphere, Aemond remained aloof, his icy demeanor never faltering.

"So, Aemond, how's the Martel project coming along?" asked Marcus, a fellow executive, taking a sip of his drink.

Aemond shrugged nonchalantly. "It's progressing as expected." he replied in his usual monotone voice. "Nothing worth getting excited about."

Marcus chuckled. "Always the stoic one, aren't you? You should loosen up a bit, enjoy the small victories."

Aemond raised an eyebrow. "I'll leave the celebrations to those who find them worthwhile." He said curtly.

Across the table, Emily, another colleague, leaned in with a playful smirk. "Come on, Aemond, don't tell me you're immune to the charms of success." She teased, her eyes twinkling mischievously.

Aemond's lips curled into a slight smirk, the closest thing to a smile he ever showed. "Success is fleeting," He replied cryptically. "I prefer to focus on the long game."

The conversation continued, with Aemond contributing sparingly, his responses always measured and guarded. He listened intently to his colleagues' chatter, but there was a distance in his eyes, as if he were observing from afar rather than fully engaging.

Despite his detached demeanor, there was an undeniable aura of authority and confidence that surrounded Aemond. He commanded respect without ever having to demand it, his presence alone enough to make those around him sit up a little straighter.

“Aspect, composure, and attitude are the key.”

As the conversation turned to other topics, Aemond remained in his own world, a silent observer amidst the lively banter of his colleagues. For him, the bar was just another backdrop in the intricate dance of corporate life, a place where he could observe and strategize, always one step ahead of the game.

As he perused the menu of the pub, a sense of disappointment washed over him. The offerings seemed basic and uninspired compared to the elegant plates he was accustomed to in high-end restaurants.

As he reluctantly considered his options, he couldn't help but long for the sophistication and refinement of the restaurants he frequented. The thought of settling for a mediocre meal in a dingy pub left a bitter taste in his mouth.

He ordered a basic plate of pasta, hoping it wouldn’t suck too much.

He glanced around the bustling pub, filled with lively conversations and clinking glasses, he thought that perhaps there was more to the dining experience than just the food itself. Maybe, just maybe, he could find enjoyment in the simple pleasures of good company and convivial atmosphere, even if the cuisine didn't quite meet his lofty standards.

He looked at his employees around the table.

What a lie.

He liked being alone, he liked to stay away from people.

He sighed silently and scanned the pub, people standing or sitting everywhere, with a beer in their hands, laughing out loud, it almost gave him a headache. He drifted his gaze to a group of young girls that just walked inside. They were laughing in such a high pitched tone it was so annoying. They were all dressed too provocative for their age, probably hoping to look older in order to buy some alcohol.

Stupid kids.

They could barely walk on those heels, they looked horrendous, even if they acted like they were on top of the world. One of the group of girls looked at him and she immediately straightened up her composure, trying to evidence her curves.

Aemond felt like throwing up.

The girl laughed when he averted his gaze for a minute, looking behind her. He followed her gaze, and he saw her, a couple of steps behind the whole group, there was another girl, dressed in a skirt long to her knee, and a cardigan. There weren’t heels at her feet but old stan smith, she wasn’t wearing much makeup, just some mascara and gloss on her lips, that made them sparkle under the light, making them look soft, plumb, ready to be bitten.

Her hair tied up in a half ponytail, her hair coming down in soft waves. She clinged to her backpack strap like it was her life savior. She must have been… sixteen? Maybe seventeen, and she looked like it, despite her friends. Her friends only looked ridiculous.

She walked in a shy demeanor, her legs almost shining over the light that came from the door of the pub. Her thighs swayed one against each other, making all of her skin move in waves. They looked so soft, the perfect shape to grab them tightly and-

“Here’s your pasta.” The waitress said to him, as she placed the plate in front of him. He hummed and nodded, as she gave him a smirk and went away. He didn’t even bother to look at the waitress' body as she walked away. He went back to the little girl, but he found her looking back at him.

She softly, gently smiled at him, shyly.

She smiled.

Aemond didn’t smile back, and she immediately looked away, running to her friends. Her breasts jumped up and down at every step she took towards the bar, her hair moving around her face.

She was beautiful. Perfect.

He coughed and finally looked away from her. He felt like she put a spell on him. He felt drawn to her.

God he looked like a pervert.

The girl was only sixteen, half his age.

What the fuck was wrong with him?!

He groaned and rubbed his temple, looking down at his plate, grabbing the fork and taking a bite.

Tasteless. Fucking tasteless.

“Marcus, stop staring at them, they could be your daughters!” He heard one of his employees say, laughing. Aemond immediately looked at him… Kyle? Then at Marcus, seeing him looking at the group of girls he saw before.

Don’t you dare look at her.

Marcus looked up and down the girls, smirking to his colleague.

“You can look at those, I don’t even know what the other girl is.” He laughed.

Don't talk about her.

Aemond clenched his hand on the fork, as both Marcys and Kyle turned to look at the girls again, drawing the attention of other colleagues as well. Aemond took a deep breath, closing his eye and leaning his head down.

I will kill you.

“Marcus, I heard the Lannister complaining about some work that has been done for them.” Aemond spoke, raising his glance at him, as he sat comfortably back on the chair.

The most uncomfortable chair he has ever sat on.

Marcus looks at him, surprised, and he immediately lowers his eyes.

“Uhm… yeah, they’re not really good at explaining what they want, you know? I made some mistakes, but I immediately fixed them when they noticed.”

“Mistakes?” He questioned further, taking another bite of his pasta, leaning back forward.

“Yeah, but nothing serious… Everything's alright now.” Marcus quickly added.

“Mh.” He only answered. He looked down at his silverwares, and he noticed the spoon was dirty.

Disgusting.

He sighed and looked towards the bar. The girls were still there. His girl was looking around the pub, her mind obviously somewhere else from her friend's conversation.

He shouldn’t do it.

He got up, excusing himself cordially to his employees, and walked away from his table.

He really shouldn’t.

He approached the bar, standing beside his girl. Her friends were giggling closed in a circle, she was more outside of it.

Were they really her friends?

Why the fuck did he care?

He twirled the spoon between his fingers, looking ahead of him as he waited for someone of the pub’s staff to consider him. Still he kept his ears well open.

“Y/N you should do it too!” One of the friends exclaimed, laughing. His girl looked at her, confused, but with a gentle face.

Y/N. He liked her name.

“What should I do?” She asked softly.

Her voice.

God, her voice.

Sweet, caring, gentle.

“Sammi maid. To earn some money, you need it, don’t you?” Her friend chuckled.

Bitch.

Aemond felt his anger rise in a second. They couldn’t be her friends. No. His girl tilted her head, confused.

“What is a Sammi maid?” She asked, so innocently. All of the girls laughed.

“Just… a maid. They just pay them more.” One of the girls explains.

Don’t.

“Might think about it, thank you.” His girl answered. She sounded embarrassed, her soft cheeks were probably red.

Don’t.

Aemond sighed and moved away, as finally, he saw a bartender coming to him.

“This spoon is dirty… and I know those girls are underage.” He handed the spoon and pointed at the group of girls, who were just asking for beers to another barman.

“Thank you, sir.” The barman took the spoon, and as he went to change it he whispered something to the other barman.

He saw the pissed expression of those girls and how they acted all offended. They quickly started to walk away but his girl was confused.

“I… I haven’t finished my cola…” She said weakly. One of the girls rolled her eyes at her.

“Whatever, Y/N stay here then.” She said, and all the group left. His girl was just staring at them surprised, as she stood there, alone.

He felt bad for her.

He wanted to hug her, console her. Kiss her.

What. The fuck. Was wrong. With. Him?!

He wanted her for himself. Never let anyone else touch her, speak to her, see her. He wanted her to be a prisoner in his arms. Why was he being so affectionate towards this girl? She was nothing he hadn't seen before. Yet he found himself rubbing his fingertips together, wanting to touch her, in any way she would let him.

“Here.” The bartender gave him back another spoon. He nodded and took it, so he turned to walk away, when he saw a necklace on the floor, next to her feet. He bent down, as she turned to him, surprised to see someone so close to her. Aemond stood up in front of her.

She was short. Shorter than him.

Her head was barely at the level of his shoulders. She looked at him, always gentle, soft, a hint of a smile on her face.

Her perfume. Sweet. Vanilla.

Her big eyes were staring at him. She looked so innocent.

He raised his hand with a necklace so she could see it. Her eyes sparkled when she noticed the necklace. She smiled broadly, and grabbed the necklace, putting her other hand over his.

“Thank you so much! I didn’t even notice it fell from my neck.” She looked at him, grateful. Aemond nodded back, even if his mind was trying to perfectly memorize the feeling of her touch. He looked at her hand, over his, her thumb moving slightly, as if to caress him.

He was a stranger to her, why was she being so nice and friendly? Was she like this with everyone?

He hoped not.

“Have a good day.” He said, nodding, turning to walk away, but she quickly put her hand in his arm, stopping him on track.

He had to put distance.

She had to stay away from him.

He didn’t know what was happening to him.

“Sorry… Would you mind helping me put the necklace on?” She smiled softly, her expression a mixture of hope and worry, she didn’t want to bother him. He shook his head and turned back towards her, as she gave him her back, giving him the necklace. He quickly puts it on her, and she immediately turns back to face him, smiling.

“Thank you. Again.” She chuckled. Aemond felt like smiling at her.

He didn’t.

He gave her another nod, as he walked away, back to his table.

Somehow, none of his employees seemed to have seen his interaction with his girl, and he was thankful for it. Especially because of how he felt his cock stiffen at the mere memory of her touch

#aemond fanfiction #aemond fic #aemond smut #aemond targaryen smut #aemond x reader #aemond x you #modern aemond #aemond #aemond x fem!reader #aemond x y/n #aemond targaryen fic #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen x reader #prince aemond targaryen #house of the dragon aemond #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen #aemond one shot #prince aemond #aemond targaryen angst #hotd aemond #dark aemond x reader #hotd x reader #hotd fanfic #hotd #house of the dragon #so hot 🔥🔥🔥

[themotherofhorses]

you can pretend it's not meant to be (but you can't stay away from me)

summary: to you, he is fictional. but to him, you are everything and more. he can't live without you. and, really, there is no use in trying to run away, he'll always find you.

pairing: (somewhat) dark!aemond targaryen x fem!reader

warnings: explicit language. noncon to dubcon. abduction. massive obsessive tendencies on aemond's part. breeding kink. slight spitting kink. pregnancy.

note: hey this is me practicing writing smut because ive never ever done it before and i don't know jackshit like wtf is a dick hahaha im dreading posting this hahahasendhelpplshaha

masterlist | series masterlist

part two | part three | part four | part five

How did you end up here?

That was all you could ask yourself, over and over again.

It had only been hours ago, maybe, that you were sitting at home, rewatching the first season of House of the Dragon for what seemed to be the thousandth time. Perhaps you dozed off on the couch too, but that was it. You have heard of shifting techniques before- ways to visit your favorite fictional worlds- but you never sought to try them out yourself.

College left you too busy with assignments and textbook readings, as well as the constant and unwavering pressure to maintain both your scholarships and high GPA.

Ever the dutiful and driven daughter, hungry for academic validation and success.

Oh, fuck, your scholarships!

Your GPA!

All those assignments and discussions and exams!

And what about your family? Your mother and father? And your best friend?

Aemond Targaryen seems not to understand your words, and why you tell, beg, and plead for him to let you go. “Please, I need to go home,” you cry loudly, while yanking at the thick knots that bound you to his bedframe, “please! My family, my friends. They will be worrying when they don’t hear from me, and all my hard work and accomplishments, it will be for nothing! Please, I beg you, let me go home.”

But he just chuckles and kisses your forehead and says, “Oh, my sweet girl, I’m your family now. Or what is of it.” His lips feel so soft and wonderful, and how desperately you wish to enjoy the feeling. But not like this. You cannot think properly nor muster any sort of response, too distracted and stressed and focused on calming your breathing.

“Although,” he then adds with a smirk, “it truly is not considered a family until you have a babe of your own…or two.”

At his words, you tremble and whimper and try your best to break free, though it is all in stupid and foolish vain. There is no going anywhere, the knots are too tight and Aemond can easily overpower you. All you can do is stare up at the man you once considered your favorite character in the series, ever since the eighth episode aired and he stole your heart and soul and burrowed himself deep within your most inner thoughts and fixation.

“Do not worry,” he says, and you can see a twinkle in the violet of his eye. He rests a hand on your collarbone, gently drawing little shapes across the skin. “Good things will come out of this night, my love, I promise you that.”

Look on the bright side, you tell yourself, in some dumb attempt to steel your nerves, better Aemond Targaryen to lose your virginity to.

“You need to be quieter, my darling-” Aemond murmurs close to your ear “-we do not need curious ears listening in, do we?” He has you riding him, both hands clutching your hips as you do your best to bounce on his cock and match his thrusts. You’re sloppy and inexperienced, and a bit confused on what exactly to do, but it is so endearing that his lips curl into a grin.

Oh, you were made for me, he thinks, watching the way your glazed-over eyes try to hold his gaze. He will have you believe that by the end of the night, dawning if necessary.

There is much rush now that he found you, now that he has the chance to claim you.

You still moan, loud and high-pitched, and he slaps a hand flat over your mouth to shut you up. It makes your pretty and teary eyes widen more as you grab at his wrist, holding onto it while he tuts. “I’ll move my hand when you learn to listen to your husband and stay quiet. No one is allowed to hear my wife in her pleasure. No one but I.” At that, you bat your eyelashes at him, breasts heaving as he leans you down, so close your lips nearly touch, and Aemond can feel your heavy pants against his mouth.

“They will take you away from me, and ship you far across the world where I can’t find you,” he hisses, pinching your swollen nipple between his fingers, “I can’t have that. No, no, do you hear me? I will not survive being torn from you.”

The mere thought of losing you, either at the hands of his mother and grandsire or you returning to your homeland, fills him with sheer dread.

He does not know how to tell you that you are the girl of his dreams, everything he has desired and more. He has seen you in his nighttime slumbers and in the gleam of the summer sunlight and up among the black midnight stars.

But the words fall apart on his tongue, and all he can do is lay beneath you and marvel at your beauty: cheekbones and pretty puffy lips and the curve of your nose, the way your eyebrows furrow in pure pleasure, and how you look utterly delicious and ruined.

“You were made for me,” he breathes in awe, palming at both your breasts. You have to believe him, this sweet and pretty girl of his, how could you not? The gods above created you for him, he will make you see it. “You are taking me so fucking well,” and Aemond flattens a palm against your belly, where he can feel the slight bulge of his cock. “Look at you, you’re my dream come true.” He thrusts his hips up, fucking into you harder and deeper. It makes you squeal and go cross-eyed.

“Is this too much? I know you can handle it, my darling. My love, my sweet girl,” he purrs.

Aemond swipes at the drool pooling at your lips before stuffing two fingers in. “Fuck,” he whines, breathing hard, slipping his other hand in between your thighs, and with his thumb, rubbing at your clit. Your face twists in a gasp as you tremble, your entire body tightening until you cream over his cock, your loud moan muffled by the fingers in your mouth.

“Good girl,” he hums, slowing his thrusts, “Such a good fucking girl. Look at that, did that feel good, my love?” he asks you.

You nod, rocking your hips back and forth. Your thighs shaking and your face scrunching in complete bliss as you start again, taking his cock deep in your stomach with tiny bounces. “Please- please- please-” you babble against his palm. “I-I want- I need-”

“Want what, my sweet girl? Need what, my darling wife?”

You don’t answer, too overtaken by the pleasure. Aemond chuckles and leans upwards, to bury his face between your breasts. You are absolutely stunning, gorgeous, a living goddess; how he went this long without you is baffling. “You wish for my seed. Is that what you want?” he mutters against your nipple, “of course you do, this belly is too empty, isn’t it? My son should be sleeping inside.” His fingers pinch your clit, and you gasp again. “You’ll be the prettiest mother. You were made to carry my children. You were made for me,” and he pulls your face back to his, with a rough grip on your chin.

“Tell me,” he demands through a pant, “tell me how fucking badly you need my seed. Tell me…tell me right now.”

“I- I need it-“ you choke out, but then you shake your head. “No- No I can’t! I- I need to go- go home!”

Aemond laughs, so hard he flings his head back. The sight takes you by surprise before he shoves you off, causing you to land next to him on the bed. You stare up at him, wide eyed and puzzled and swollen and covered in countless bites and bruises. In one swing, he forces your face into the pillow as he mounts you from behind, fucking you hard. His fingers return to your clit, squeezing and tweaking and not caring one bit about your muffled yelps and whines

“You’ll learn, my sweet girl, but perhaps not tonight. I am your home now, do you understand? I’m your family, your husband, and the father to your children.”

He grabs a fistful of damp hair and yanks your face back, never once slowing his thrusts. Your mouth is open with many moans spilling out, eyes clouded with tears, and cheeks flushed. With his lips next to your ear, he whispers, “You are going nowhere.” Then propping himself on one arm, he trails small kisses up your back to your shoulder blade until his mouth slams down on yours in a heavy and wet kiss.

And when he pulls away, his fingertips squeeze your cheeks together as he demands for you to open your mouth. "You are mine," he grunts, "you belong to me," before spitting into it. "Good, now swallow."

And when you do, he smiles.

"There, see?" he coos, leaning to kiss your forehead as he feels you tighten around his cock. He was going to seed you again, deep inside your womb. Come the morning, he knows his son will be in there, and he can hardly wait.

"My wife, my darling girl, the only woman deserving of me and all of me. Only me." He watches you sob at that, pink lips pressing in a tight line as fat tears streak down both cheeks. "Oh, do not worry, my love. You're too lovely to be crying," and he uses his thumb to brush away the tears, "I'm here to give you the life you deserve," he vows, so lovingly, "you will want for nothing."

With a loud huff, you plop yourself on the couch.

The saying “home sweet home” never felt more sincere until now. It took much time and planning and effort and sneaking around on your part, but you managed to find a way to escape from Aemond Targaryen, though not without consequences. Your belly was growing only larger with every new moon, and your babe was starting to shift around more. At most times, you could feel the fluttering sensation across the bottom of your tummy, and every now and then, the tiniest kick.

It was adorable, you admitted, and you tried your best to find enjoyment throughout the pregnancy, sometimes wondering at night about who your child would resemble.

Would their looks favor yours? Or would they favor their father, with his Valyrian features- that iconic silver hair and violet eyes. The latter worried you the most. How could you even begin to explain why your child looked as if they belonged in the Game of Thrones series, specifically in House Targaryen?

Speaking of such, you had not touched House of the Dragon since you arrived back home all those months ago, too unwilling to turn on the tv and see the man whose child you were mysteriously carrying in your womb. It just did not make any sense, it felt more like a weird dream than reality.

But you were dying of boredom. The dragonling (you had taken to nicknaming the baby that, it sounded both cute and appropriate) was stealing away most of your time and energy, and your mother refused to allow you to do anything that could cause harm or add more unnecessary stress.

So you bit your tongue and swallowed down your grumbles and settled comfortably on the couch before opening Fire and Blood.

“Fucking crazy to think that this is a book of your family’s history,” you mumbled to your baby bump, “fictional my ass.”

So you read, to yourself and to your babe. Read about Aegon’s Conquest and the Year of the Three Brides and King Jaehaerys and his Alysanne and their triumphs and tragedies and legacy, and you read until you reached The Dying of the Dragons, the Blacks and the Greens, where you just sighed.

“And when Alicent sent for her second son to fly to Storm’s End, with the purpose of securing Borros Baratheon’s loyalty to Aegon II by winning the hand of one of his daughters, the Four Storms, the truth was finally known. One-eyed Prince Aemond, twenty and one, had taken a wife of his own in secret, a young maiden not of Westeros (according to Mushroom). Yet Prince Aemond lost her a month into their marriage, although by that time he had become so besotted with his bride, to such an extent that he could not bear the thought of living without her or taking another woman as his new wife.

With Prince Aemond refusing his mother’s orders, Queen Alicent had little choice but to send her youngest, Prince Daeron, in his place to Storm’s End. And by the seventh month, Prince Daeron wedded Floris Baratheon, and Prince Aemond One-Eye had reunited with his wife, who was heavy with child by the time he found her.”

You suddenly glance up from the book pages, feeling your heart hammering so hard in your chest that it seems at the end of your throat. On the wall, to your right, hung the calendar which you had taken to use as a means of tracking your pregnancy.

In two weeks, you’ll be at your seventh-month mark.

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x modern!reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #aemond smut #dark aemond targaryen #house of the dragon #house of the dragon imagine #hotd fanfic #hotd aemond #vic writes 🧸

[fragileheartbeats]

⌗ 𝘛𝘎𝘊 𝘏𝘊 ⁝ 𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘰𝘣𝘴𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶 ( ♱ )

He would be possessive and controlling, driven by his fear of losing his darling. He would show his love and affection through lavish gifts, constant attention, and grand gestures of devotion, all while subtly manipulating his darling's actions and decisions to ensure they remain by his side. His intensity would escalate gradually, starting with subtle hints of possessiveness and control before turning into more overt displays of jealousy and manipulation. He would be skilled at reading and understanding his darling's emotions, using this knowledge to both comfort and control them. He would treat his darling with a mix of adoration and manipulation, alternating between moments of intense affection and cold detachment depending on his mood and his perceived threat to their relationship. If his darling were abducted, he would likely use a combination of emotional manipulation and psychological torture to break their will and ensure their compliance. He may mock them or belittle their attempts to resist, but he would ultimately be driven by his desire to possess and control them rather than inflicting physical harm. He would struggle with feelings of vulnerability when it comes to his darling, fearing rejection or betrayal more than anything else. If his darling were to fight back, he would be devastated and likely become even more possessive and controlling in an attempt to regain their affection. His darling's worst experience would likely involve a combination of emotional manipulation, psychological torture, and physical confinement, designed to break their spirit and ensure their compliance. He would be intensely jealous and possessive, lashing out at anyone who he perceives as a threat to his relationship with his darling. He may cope by isolating his darling from others or by attempting to control every aspect of their life. Around his darling, his true colors would be drastically different from how he acts around others. He would be charming and attentive, but also possessive and controlling, hiding his darker tendencies behind a facade of love and devotion. If his darling were to disobey him, he would likely punish them through emotional manipulation, psychological torture, or physical confinement. He would gradually strip away their rights and freedoms, exerting more and more control over every aspect of their life. He would struggle to move on if his darling were to leave or escape, feeling a deep sense of loss and betrayal. He may never truly feel guilty about abducting his darling, believing that their love justifies his actions. He may eventually let his darling go if he realizes that his possessiveness is ultimately driving them away, but he would likely struggle with feelings of resentment and longing for a long time afterward. Seeing his darling scream, cry, or isolate themselves would both disturb and intrigue him, fueling his desire to possess and control them even more. He would worship his darling to an unhealthy degree, willing to go to any length to win them over and keep them by his side. He would pine after them endlessly, becoming increasingly desperate and unstable as time goes on. Ultimately, he may be willing to break his darling emotionally if he feels they are slipping away from him, using manipulation and psychological torture to ensure their continued compliance and devotion.

The cold air whispered through the cracks in the window frame, sending shivers down her spine as she sat huddled in the dimly lit room. Her eyes flickered nervously around the unfamiliar surroundings, her heart pounding with fear and confusion. How had she ended up here, trapped in this eerie silence?

Tom stood in the doorway, watching her with fascination. His dark eyes gleamed with intensity as he approached, his footsteps echoing off the barren walls.

"Are you comfortable, darling?" he asked, his voice dripping with false concern.

She recoiled instinctively, her voice trembling as she spoke. "Where am I? What do you want from me?"

Tom's lips curled into a sinister smile as he moved closer, his hand reaching out to gently brush against her cheek. "You're with me now, where you belong. And what I want is simple – you."

Her heart raced as she tried to make sense of his words, the realization sinking in that she was indeed trapped in his grasp.

As the days passed, Tom's demeanor shifted between moments of kindness and flashes of cruelty. He would bring her meals, whispering sweet promises of love and devotion, only to turn cold and distant at the slightest sign of defiance.

She struggled to maintain her composure, clinging to the hope of escape even as the days blurred together in a haze of fear and uncertainty.

One evening, as the moon cast a soft glow through the window, Tom approached her with a determined glint in his eyes. "I can see it in your eyes, darling. You're still fighting against me, against us. But I won't let you go. You're mine, now and forever."

Tears welled in her eyes as she gazed up at him, her voice barely above a whisper. "Please, Tom. Let me go. I don't belong here."

His grip tightened on her arm, his voice laced with desperation. "You're wrong, darling. You belong with me. And I'll do whatever it takes to make you see that."

@ 𝒇𝒓𝒂𝒈𝒊𝒍𝒆𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒔 . 𝐷𝑜𝑛'𝑡 𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑔𝑖𝑎𝑟𝑖𝑠𝑒, 𝑟𝑒𝑝𝑜𝑠𝑡, 𝑜𝑟 𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑠𝑙𝑎𝑡𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑦 𝑜𝑓 𝑚𝑦 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑘𝑠 𝑜𝑛 ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑜𝑟 𝑎𝑛𝑦 𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑤𝑒𝑏𝑠𝑖𝑡𝑒𝑠.

#ㅤㅤ⠀ㅤ 𓇼ㅤ ㅤ𓂂ㅤㅤ ˚ㅤㅤ ◌ㅤ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ㅤ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏ #tom glynn carney #tom glynn carney x reader #aegon ii targaryen x reader #aegon x reader #aegon ii targaryen #aegon targaryen x reader #dark aegon ii targaryen #aegon targaryen #yandere aegon x reader #yandere x reader #yandere #lovesick #obsession #hotd x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #tgc x reader #dark hotd #house of the dragon #asoiaf #a song of ice and fire #aegon the second #aegon ii #dark aegon #dark aegon targaryen #hotd aegon #king aegon #modern aegon #hotd

[thought--bubble]

Dreamin of You

Modern Dark Actor Aemond X (Non-Famous GF Reader)

Warnings after the cut

Word Count: 3065

Modern Aemond Masterlist

Full Masterlist

Banners by @arcielee

Warnings:: Jealousy, possessive behavior, obsessive behavior, Dubcon, insecurity, unprotected sex (p in v), oral sex (F receiving)

Based on THIS request

"Aemond! Over here!" You cringe at the noise, a man with a camera nearly screeching into your ear.

Aemond shields his eyes, trying to block out the flashing of the cameras as he tightens his arm around you, pulling you through the crowd.

It has been about a year since he got his big break. The leading man on a hit show that streams on Netflix. One of this year's biggest hits.

His life entirely changed nearly overnight, changing yours right along with it. You could no longer go out in public with him. You would be swarmed by cameras and people reaching out and grabbing at him. Women yelled out to him that they loved him.

Oh, how the women scream for him.

It doesn't surprise you. He is handsome and charming, not to mention tall, with a jawline that could cut diamonds.

Aemond used to be a quiet man. Hiding in the shadows. Shy and self-conscious. His disability made him bow out from most social situations unless you were there.

You had met Aemond back in primary school. Growing up beside him, you knew him better than anyone else. Or at least you used to.

The man standing beside you now, curling you up in his arm, is not the same man he was just one short year ago, and the realization hit you recently.

You had accompanied him to a photo shoot as you often do. Watching him flit about the place, shaking hands and charming them all with that beautiful smile. The two female models on set hanging on his every word. One being so forward as to brush her hand on his arm. Which he allowed.

Every day, you felt the pressure of his newfound fame start to squeeze into every facet of your life.

You had never been an insecure person. Never. Now you found yourself constantly comparing.

Aemond had been approached by models, a fellow actress, and even a pretty popular musician, and when you look at them and then at yourself, it's obvious that there is simply no comparison.

He is going to leave you or cheat on you at some point, which has you constantly on edge. You had been denying this, but what man wouldn't? What man would stay with his average before fame girlfriend when he could have a lingerie model? A pop star?

You know that he loves you and you love him too, but sometimes love is just not enough.

That's how you find yourself here. Standing in his living room, watching him update his Instagram after fighting your way through a sea of photographers.

Your stomach feels sick as you watch him, trying to build up the courage to say what has been bouncing around in your head for weeks.

"It's time," you whisper to yourself.

You clear your throat as you gently shake out your limbs. "Aemond? I....I need to talk to you."

"Course." He doesn't lift his head from his phone, no doubt jumping on every notification coming from his social media accounts.

"It's important"

He lifts his head and furrows his brow.

"Everything alright, love?" He turns his phone screen down toward his lap to show you that you have his full attention.

You open your mouth to speak and immediately the anxiety of what you're about to do hits you like a tidal wave. Am I doing this? Really doing this?

Aemond can sense the panic that is coursing through you and stands up and quickly walks to you, taking your hands.

"Don't be afraid, love, tell me what's going on," He squeezes gently. His tenderness makes this all so much more difficult.

"I think it's...... Aemond? I..... I'm leaving" the relief you feel at finally telling him is soothing, it's done. You've said it. No take backs.

"Leave?" Aemond grips his phone tightly, his knuckles turning white as he turns his head from you. "Leave where? Go where? For what purpose?"

"Aemond..... I mean leave..... us. This" You turn your head in an effort to avoid that eye. You know you shouldn't look away. It's you who is doing this to the both of you. What right do you have to be sad?

The gentleness on his face is replaced with shock, and he turns his back to you, taking a few steps away. His silence is deafening, but you want to be fair. Give him a moment to process this.

"I... I just don't think we fit anymore, I'm so happy for you, Aemond. You're so talented, and all this that's happening to you? You deserve it, and i want you to have it." You recoil slightly at your own words. You've been thinking it for months, but saying it out loud, saying it to him. It's so painful. So final. "But, there's no room here for me anymore"

As you feel the all too familiar sting in your eyes, you watch his form turned away from you. You want him to look at you. Let you know that he understands that you don't want to hurt him. That this is what is best for both of you.

Instead, he chuckles, and you're hit with a wave of confusion before he turns around and stalks toward you. "Leaving? You think you're leaving me?" The smirk that creeps its way onto his face sends shivers down your spine.

He clicks his tongue as he reaches you, pulling you in tight against his chest.

"You don't get to leave." He coos. "No, my darling, you'll stay right here." he gently runs his fingers through your hair, the movement comforting and menacing.

The little hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. Who is this? This isn't the Aemond you know. Kind gentle, Aemond.

No, this person is someone else.

His lifts your face to him by your chin and kisses you gently. The way he moves between loving and domineering so seamlessly, it's as if there are two of him.

"You are mine little dove." He chuckles again as he looks down at you, the gleam in his eye, conveying a message that you are having trouble reading.

"Things have changed yes, we will figure out how to make you more comfortable, but one thing remains constant and that is you."

"You don't get to decide that." You wanted to say this with conviction but it comes out weak and feeble. You and Aemond have hardly ever fought and when you do, he wins every time.

Aemond sighs and smiles. "But I do. See i decide if we stay together. Me, and i have decided that we will. Now if there are things that we can work on to make you more comfortable I am happy to do that" He pushes his face into the crook of your neck as he whispers, " It's what's best for both of us"

You push him back, his arrogance finally pushing you over the edge.

"Who are you? Huh? This isn't you! This arrogant, entitled twat!" The dam that was holding back all of your frustrations fully bursts and you can't help yourself from offloading.

"You flirt with models right in front of me, you-"

"IT'S AN ACT!" He explodes, and you jump back, his voice unrecognizable.

"You think I want them? Those vapid cunts?" He grips your arm tight and shoves you down onto the sofa. The movement jarring.

"Don't shove me!" You move to get up but he leans down caging you in with his arms.

"When I sleep, I dream of you, when awake, I dream of you, when I do anything, I dream of you. There is not another for me, not in this lifetime or the next."

You push your body back on the sofa, trying to put a little distance between the two of you. He glares at you for a moment, lowering his arms from the sofa and bringing them to your shoulders.

"If you leave, I will find you, and I will drag you back to me" He slowly drops to his knees in front of you, sliding his arms down the length of your body in the process. "I'll always find you."

Your eyes widened slightly in fear. His love has always been expressed in gentleness, kind gestures, and soft caresses.

"What happened to being partners? Since when have you owned me as you seem to think?"

"I always have." He looks at you, not with malice, not with hubris, but with a look that tells you he takes this to be simple fact.

He pushes your skirt up, and begins trailing kisses up your thigh.

"Aemond.... we shouldn't. " His grip on your thigh tightens, but he doesn't stop. Your mind is telling you to push him away, stop him but your body is succumbing to his dangerous allure, like a lamb to the slaughter.

The closer he gets to your heat, the faster you lose your resolve. He's always had this effect on you. When he kisses you, touches you, loves on you, you all too quickly fall to your knees.

He slides his hand up your other thigh, slipping it under your skirt until he reaches your hip, gently squeezing at the flesh there.

You close your eyes and lean back on the sofa as he continues to lick and nip at your thigh. Every touch of his skin to yours sending currents of electricity through your veins.

"We're gonna be fine darlin" His voice is hynotizing. Just a moment ago you wanted to punch him in the face and now you are spreading your legs wider to give him enough room to fit his face between your thighs.

"That's a good girl, such a good girl" He moves his hand from your hip to your heat gently caressing you through the thin fabric of your thong.

"For someone who thinks we shouldn't be doing this you are very very wet" You feel the embarrasment rush to your cheeks but are unable to stop yourself from gently bucking your hips upward.

Aemond chuckles and clicks his tongue. "Is that was this was all about hmm? Have I been neglecting you sweet girl?" He moves your thong to the side and brings his finger to the wetness pooling there. "Hmmm seems I have, you poor poor thing" He mocks with fake sympathy.

You sigh as he grips your thighs dragging you to the edge of the sofa. pushing your skirt all the way up and exposing you to him.

"So fucking pretty" He leans forward and flicks the tip of his tongue on your pearl. Your leg twitches in response and he pulls his head back.

You groan at his teasing scooting your body closer to his face, as he starts to chuckle.

"Now, now sweet girl. I'm going to need you to admit, that you aren't going anywhere." He lightly scratches at the sensitive skin on your thigh with his thumbnail. You were supposed to break up and leave, This life with him was making you miserable. "Give me what I want, and I will return the favor" He again leans forward and flicks the very tip of your clit twice.

The teasing is starting to drive you to madness, you came into this room with conviction and a plan but it looks like you would leave this room with shame and satisfaction. "Fine! I'm not leaving, I'm not, I promise, I promise!" You feel a mix of discomfiture and arousal coursing through you but at this point you just don't care.

"Mmmmm" is the only sound he makes before again leaning forward and taking your engorged nerve into his mouth and sucking on it harshly.

"Fuckkkk Aem" You bring your hand down and grip his head, pushing his head closer to you and he is more than happy to oblige.

He slides a long course finger into you while he continues to swallow at your pearl. The sensations have your legs shaking uncontrollably, and as if your hips have a mind of their own, they buck gently against Aemonds face as he gives you everything he knows you want.

His finger crooks inside you, rubbing at the pad inside, gently calling your orgasm to him.

"Oh fuck ahhh!" Your whole body stiffens as he quickens the pace of both his mouth and finger.

As you tumble forward into your peak, you squeeze your legs around his head, the blood rushing to your face heating up your entire body. Is this heaven, or have you been tricked into hell?

After you finish sitting dumbstruck on the sofa, Aemond wastes no time. He slides towards you on his knees, wrapping his hand around your waist.

You rest your exhausted head on his shoulder and wrap your legs around his hips. With just one arm he lifts you slightly off the couch and slowly rises to his feet, you feel the muscles in his chest and shoulders tighten as he lifts you and himself from the floor carrying you into the bedroom. His hard cock pressed against you.

"Have I got you all stupid for me, sweet girl?"

You make some incoherent noises as he gently drops you onto the bed and climbs on top of you.

"I love you" He breathes the words directly into your ear, the sadness in his voice not lost on you. He slots himself between your legs tightly gripping your thigh and pulling it up against him.

"You can't ever leave ok?" He roughly kisses you before you can respond while he pulls you closer by the thigh pushing himself up tight against your core. "Not ever".

Aemond ruts against you, still fully clothed. "Can't live without ya." His voice sounds strained like this is taking everything out of him. "Won't live without ya." His movements become more rough, more desperate.

He pulls back from you just long enough to get your panties off, disposing of his boxers and trousers in the process, before slotting himself back between your legs.

He slides an arm under your back, bringing his hand to the back of your neck, raising your face to his.

"All I want is you. All I've ever wanted is you." His lips meet yours in a searing kiss, a kiss that screams don't go.

He pushes himself against your entrance, begging to be let in. You lean back further parting your legs and he pushes forward slowly.

"Fuck, I love you, oh gods I love you" He moans as he fills you up. Once he reaches the hilt, he lies down on top of you, sliding both of his arms under your shoulders before he gently starts to move against you.

Your bodies are pressed together so tight. You can hardly tell there are two separate people here.

"I'll never let you go, I'll never let you go," he repeats this over and over as his speed increases, his voice changing from desperate to domineering.

He grips your shoulders tightly, holding your body in place as he ruts up into you. "Do you understand now? You can never leave. I love you. You're mine. " his thrusts are slowly getting harder, as the heat again builds up in your abdomen.

"Fucking mine. Always mine. Forever mine," he growls the words at you as he bites into your neck.

"I'm gonna fill you up." He bites into your shoulder, pushing himself as far into you as he can get, but pushing ever still. He can't be close enough to you. He can't be far enough inside. Everything feels like it's just not enough.

He pulls back from you, has his speed increases, and his rhythm falters.

"Cmon cum for me sweet girl" He licks his thumb and brings it to your nub pressing down harshly on the nerve, his movements furious.

You whine out, your legs trembling as you feel your lower stomach growing tighter and tighter, the feeling overwhelming but so good. "Aem." You whimper, "ohhh gods"

"No baby, it's just me." He watches in wonder as you reach your peak for a second time, arching your back and yelling out loud.

"That's good. That's a good girl. Fuck yes baby" His movements become sloppy and he grips your hips tightly as he chases his release. "Say you love me," he growls his hips smacking against your skin with a loud slap sound as you moan out riding out the top of your pleasure.

"Fucking say it" he grunts as he tries to hold back his climax, "Please baby say it." His face is contorted somewhere between pleasure and pain until you acquiesce.

"I love you." The words flow from your mouth so delicately, so naturally. There was never a question as to whether you loved him. The question is whether that love is enough.

Hearing the words from your tongue immediately sends Aemond into the climax he was fighting as he screams out like some kind of feral animal thrusting into you harshly as he rides out his high, collapsing onto your chest leaving himself sheathed inside.

"I love you too"

You wake up the next morning to the alarm on your phone going off and grumble, turning it off and rolling onto your side, looking at a sleeping Aemond. Feeling ashamed of yourself for giving into him last night.

As you slide out of the bed to get ready for work he reaches out and grips your wrist tight.

"Where are you going?" His eyes are still closed and his body hasn't moved the only thing alerting you to his consciousness being the hand tightly gripping your wrist, and his voice.

"To work?" You move again to get out of the bed thinking the matter settled.

"Oh, no we are sending your letter of resignation today" He opens his eyes and shifts in the bed stretching but not releasing your wrist.

"Aemond, i'm not quitting my job!" You can't believe he would even think that was an option. You love your job. Why would you quit? Why would he even want you to? You look towards him in utter confusion as he slightly tightens the grip on your wrist.

"You can't go. You might not come back." He yanks you back into the bed crawling on top of you.

"Like I said before. You're gonna stay right here"

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#aemond fanfiction #modern aemond x reader #modern aemond fanfiction #modern aemond/ you #dark aemond x reader #modern aemond #modern aemond angst #modern au #ewan nation #ewan mitchell #ewanverse #ewan mitchell verse #ewan mitchell fanfic #jess fics #my modern war criminal bf

[flowerandblood]

The Knight & The Judge

[ modern Frollo • Aemond x Esmeralda • female ]

[ warnings: dubcon, sex content, smut, angst, domination and humiliation kink, description of physical and mental disabilities, prejudices against disabled people, aggressive behavior, violence, swearing, trauma, mention of an accident with fatalities ]

[ description: After a car accident, his brother has to deal with the consequences of what happened, and he, as his protector, does not know how to help him. His sister comes up with the idea of hiring someone as his carer who will be able to cheer him up and occupy his mind. It turns out, however, that the girl he hired charmed not only his younger brother. Obsession, self-destructive behavior, verbal and physical aggression, sexual tension, dark, malicious Aemond. ]

Author's note: This story is a request, but I decided to freely use what I liked in the book and Disney film to create a new, disturbing story taking place in modern times. It is intended to be uncomfortable and will contain scenes that are at least morally questionable, in my version "Esmeralda" is not Romanian. This story will also include motifs from Jane Eyre, which was a separate request. My story will also touch on the problems of people with disabilities, so if these are sensitive topics for you, I advise against reading further. You have been warned.

Part 2 − The Sin & The Penance

Part 3 − The Doubt & The Delight

Epilogue

Main Characters Moodboard

Aemond NSFW Alphabet

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

On that day it seemed to him that the whole world had turned against him. His coffee machine had broken down, there was more traffic than usual on the roads, he was sure he would be late for work, and his brother had woken up in a mood worse than always and cried all the way to the centre.

"I don't want to go there. I-I'm scared of some of those kids." He muttered under his breath, swallowing loudly, whooping with tears. He looked at him in the mirror, feeling a squeeze in his throat every morning when he left him there, but saw no other alternative.

He still hadn't recovered mentally after what had happened five years ago and, according to his psychiatrist, he wasn't ready to attend a normal school until he gained more confidence.

He did not want to force him to listen to unpleasant comments, however, he felt uncomfortable himself.

The centre was huge, classes were taught in different groups of matched children, however, there were times when Daeron encountered kids with a spectrum of disabilities other than physical and was simply afraid of them.

He tried to explain it to him, but how was a child supposed to understand these complicated, sometimes even uncontrollable behaviours and screams?

He swallowed hard, leaning the back of his head against the backrest, turning on the right indicator with his hand, driving into the car park of the building where he would leave him for the time he spent at work, during which he studied and had various extra classes with children with problems similar to his.

However, was he to surround himself all his life only with children who had mobility problems, who had no arms or legs, who suffered from paresis or lack of feeling in their limbs?

Every time he thought about it he wanted to cry.

He turned off the engine, staring dully ahead, hearing his mother's screams again in the background of his mind as his father fainted behind the wheel and drove off the road into the other lane – he felt once again that hard crash with the big truck coming from the opposite direction that crushed them.

They were only alive because they were in the back seats at the time, Daeron, however, was not as lucky as he was.

Compared to what happened to his younger brother, the glass that smashed into the left side of his face was nothing.

"Mrs Thomson said you can't spend all day at home doing one-to-one tuition. You have to see other children." He calmly repeated the formula he said whenever such a situation arose, opening his door, heading for the boot of his big black SUV – the car dealership had told him it was the safest and biggest model they had.

He took out the small wheelchair that had been put together and unfolded it, driving it closer, to the back seat where his brother sat, opening it – he looked away, unable to watch his brother's weeping face.

"I'm already late for work. Please. I promise we'll play FIFA' 23 together when we get back. Hm?" He muttered, and Daeron nodded, pale, breathing loudly, using his hands to move slowly towards the wheelchair onto which he shifted the weight of his body, hissing loudly as he lifted his legs onto the special supports.

The bones of his little legs had been simply crushed then – he continued to grow, the rehabilitation was hard and caused him great pain.

He would have preferred it to be him who suffered like this and not an innocent child, but God, who he wasn't sure he still believed in despite the deep faith his mother had always instilled in him, decided otherwise.

He closed the car and moved with him to the main entrance, pushing his wheelchair forward. When they got inside they were greeted by a lady they knew very well, several of his friends waved to Daeron, one of them was paralysed from the waist down, the other was missing one arm.

He swallowed loudly, thinking that his brother had to watch someone else's misfortune every day, himself for sure feeling like a cripple, like someone defective, someone who was a burden, even though he loved him the most in the world.

The cruelty of the situation left him with a clenched throat, so he would usually only throw him a few words to say goodbye, stroke his head and leave, only by the car tightening his fingers on the base of his nose, his healthy eye burning from the moisture that gathered under his eyelids.

As he always did in moments of breakdown, he started the engine, selected the number of his sister phone on the display under his dashboard and, turning on loudspeaker mode, started backing his car as he tried to drive out of the car park and drove ahead towards the national prosecutor's office.

"Hello? Aemond, did something happen?"

He heard Helaena's soft, sleepy voice. He knew she was still doing overtime as a doctor, overworking herself as much as he was and thought that he had woken her up after the night shift.

He felt remorse for not being able to handle it himself, although she always reassured him that she would always help him as best she could.

She got Daeron the best possible physiotherapist so that he was even able to take a few steps in the last month while holding on to his supports, however it still caused him great pain, the doctors said his bones would continue to hurt as long as he grew.

Perpetual undeserved suffering.

"I don't know what to do anymore. He says he is afraid of some of the children, those with intellectual disabilities. I know it's cruel, but fuck, I'd be scared of some of them too. Do they have to see each other in the same building, pass each other in the corridor? Shouldn't they be separated somehow?"

"God, Aemond, they're not animals. After all, they're children too." She said with sadness and resentment – he clenched his eye, sighing impatiently, trying to focus on the road again, tense.

"I know. I know. I really feel for them, but it's bad for his psyche. He recently asked me if he was normal, if he too would start shouting and babbling like them. That sometimes they are aggressive and the carers have to drag them away from him and his friends."

"It's horrible. Maybe he really should go there less often?" She asked sighing quietly, he heard her rise up on the bed with a quiet creak of the mattress.

"And what, he's going to sit at home with some boring old teacher? How will I know that no harm comes to him in my absence?" He asked resignedly, hearing silence on the other side for some time.

"Maybe find someone who won't be very distant in age. Someone who won't just teach him, but play with him and spend time with him. Someone old enough to be responsible for him and at the same time young enough not to feel so distant. Someone joyful." She replied, and he rolled his eyes as he drove into the underground car park of his office building.

"Joyful? I am supposed to pay someone to be joyful?" He sneered, shaking his head, his sister sighed again.

"He needs it, Aemond. We're all tired, and he's a child."

He hung up after a few minutes of further discussion, telling her he had to go, grabbed the case folders he'd just brought in and headed for the underground lift. He pressed the button showing the floor he wanted to move to when a woman's hand stopped the sliding doors, which opened a moment later.

Alys smiled broadly at him as she stepped inside with a confident stride – her high black heels emphasised how slender and long her legs were, her fitted, waist high pencil trousers and black blazer with a beautiful white shirt underneath highlighted both her confidence and her attractiveness.

He remembered the last few times the thrusts of his hips had pushed her into her desk, bent over and helpless, with firm, wide buttocks on which he tightened his fingers as he panted heavily, watching what he was doing to her, rooting into her again and again, thinking with mockery and amusement how easy it was to make a mere whore out of such a proud woman.

"Good morning, Mr Prosecutor." She said softly, contentment and calmness on her face, several of their intense close-ups had clearly left an intense mark in her, not just physical.

She liked the violent and determined ones, he knew that – she hid her age well and apparently decided that this was the last moment in her life when she could reach for what she wanted.

"Good morning, Miss Rivers." He replied calmly, uninterested in her ambiguous look, apparently suggesting that she wouldn't mind if what happened between them was repeated a few more times.

He was all about the sex. He was frustrated in this aspect – his artificial eye, although perfectly colour-matched to the other and the still clearly visible scar from where the glass pierced in, were a source of his complexes and shame.

He knew that no matter how perfect a professional he was, it was his appearance that made the first impression.

He preferred them to fear him rather than pity him.

In the courtroom he still struggled to be taken seriously so much so that his cold, calculating, ruthless nature began to frighten some – his judgement and questioning was harsh and lacking in compassion.

He knew exactly what he wanted and strove to get it.

His superiors quickly appreciated how skilful a lawyer he was and his ability to bring cases to an end and push whoever he needed to, hence he quickly moved to the National Prosecutor's Office, where more responsibilities and more money awaited him, which he could spend on Daeron's rehabilitation.

As he sat over the files he thought hard about what his sister had told him and decided that he would install CCTV in the house and then hire someone on a trial basis to see if it made sense.

He put up an anonymous job ad not wanting anyone to recognise him, described briefly his broad expectations and his rate per hour.

It turned out that dozens of people responded to his ad, just as he suspected attracted by the sum he had quoted, but he didn't know how he was supposed to sort them to choose the ones that seemed best to him. He began to read their answers, figuring that already from them he could deduce what types of personalities they were.

I am interested. My phone number is below.

Reject, he thought, clicking the red button informing the message sender that his offer was not accepted, and began to scroll further.

I am a carer with 10 years of experience. I have already cared for 14-year-old Mike with cerebral palsy, Adam with….

Reject, he clicked again.

He had no intention of making his home a second centre for the disabled.

He felt frustration and rage when he found that most of the messages were similar and just as empty in their tone, nothing convinced him about these people.

He knew Daeron wouldn't want to stay with them, and neither would he.

He stopped at one of the messages that looked completely different and blinked.

Good morning! I saw your ad and thought I would speak up. I'm a student, I'm studying costume design at the Faculty of Fine Arts. I'm looking for a casual job and I really enjoy working with children, I teach dressmaking as part of the teaching section of my university classes. I think that helping your brother with his studies at primary school level would be no problem for me at all, and I would also be happy to come up with different extra-curricular activities with him. Even if you decide not to hire me, I would like to sew your brother a costume of his favourite super hero, without any payment of course. You would just have to give me his measurements. I don't think anything makes kids his age happier!!! My warmest regards and I am sending my email below.

He looked at her message not too sure how he felt, at the same time being impressed, on the other hand feeling the seed of uncertainty and extreme caution characteristic of him when it came to his approach to newly met people.

What if this was a psychological tactic to make him believe her to be innocent and unselfish? To make him subconsciously choose her because she was the only one offering him something for free? If it was just her free promotion?

He chose two people reluctantly, but kept coming back to her message, trying to imagine her, seeing some crazy painting student looking like a hippie.

Maybe this was just what he needed? He thought with regret and sighed heavily, opening a new window in his inbox, writing her a short, brief email to appear at their house in a few days' time.

He was going to interrogate her.

The young man before her immediately made him uneasy – he had the impression that he smelled weed from him even though he had taken a shower, so he must have been smoking like crazy, and he had no intention of letting anyone who might encourage him to use any stimulants look after his brother.

The other girl was very frightened – his questions clearly startled her and made her uncomfortable, it frustrated him that she was barely able to make a sound. He thought she had something to hide, that people who have a clear conscience don't behave this way.

He thought with resignation that all he had left was a mad artist.

He sighed heavily as he heard the bell ring suggesting that someone was standing outside the gate. He walked over to the intercom and opened it, seeing in the small monitor a petite girl with dark, slightly wavy hair tied up in a ponytail.

He thought in disbelief that she was dressed for a job interview in a white turtleneck, dungarees and trainers, a fabric floral back on her back.

What the fuck, he thought, opening her door with a cold, indifferent expression on his face.

"Good afternoon." She said softly, a wide smile on her face. Before she walked in she wiped her shoes on the doormat, which pleased him. When she came inside she wanted to take off her trainers – he looked at her surprised, thinking she must be crazy.

"No, you don't have to. You can stay in your shoes." He said lowly, pointing towards the armchair, indicating to her with his hand the seat on the couch next to him.

She sat down in the seat he showed her, looking boldly straight into his eyes, her cheeks rosy with emotion.

She was clearly a tad nervous after all, he thought, musing for a moment that she had incredibly long, dark eyelashes.

"Do you have experience in working with children?" He asked immediately; she blinked and corrected herself in her seat, as if prepared for the question.

"Only in terms of working with them in sewing workshops." She answered simply, without any further explanation, which pleased him.

She was letting him draw his own conclusions, rather than imposing them on him so as to present herself in the most favourable light.

"My brother has mobility problems. How do you imagine helping him, for example, if he needs to go to the bathroom?"

"I think he's old enough that he can tell me himself what he'll need help with and what he won't, and what he'll feel comfortable for me to help him with and when he'll want me to leave." She said without thinking, shrugging her shoulders as if it was obvious. He squinted, intrigued that she was allowing herself to say unthoughtful things in front of him, as if she wasn't afraid of the consequences they might bring.

"And your studies? How will you have so much time to come here?"

"From what I understand, I would be expected to turn up on Tuesdays and Thursdays from eight in the morning until sixteen. I have practice classes then, the costumes I'm sewing I can bring with me and finish them while he's eating or watching something, maybe he'll even like it and want to practice with me?"

"What will you do if I don't hire you?" He asked dryly and she looked at him surprised, a light smile on her face indicating that his words didn't worry her.

"Then I will continue to work in the café. But my words about the superhero costume stand. Even if I can't work for you, sir, I would like to meet him and give him something. Children can be so brave." She said softly with sincere, bright joy and some kind of pride, as if Daeron was her brother and not his, something in her innocence, something in her attitude endeared him.

He could smell a lie a mile away, she wouldn't be able to pretend so well even if she were an actress.

These reactions were natural, she was saying exactly what she was thinking about.

"I will contact you once I have made my decision." He said indifferently, getting up from his seat and pointing with his hand towards the exit, suggesting that their conversation was over.

She stood up and smiled, undaunted by his behaviour or the length of their conversation. Both of them flinched when Daeron appeared in the living room, pushing the wheels of his wheelchair with a light flick of his hand.

"Good afternoon. Who is this lady?" His younger brother asked him, obvious curiosity on his face. He swallowed loudly and glanced at her – she answered nothing but waved at him vigorously, Daeron smiled shyly and waved her back, embarrassed.

"No one. I needed to talk to her." He replied, opening the door for her. She said a polite goodbye to him and his brother, waving at him once more, Daeron waved her back again, looking at him with questioning eyes as he closed it.

"I like her. She seems fun."

With no other choice, he decided he would give her a chance.

The first day she was to be left alone with Daeron he was all nerves despite the fact that his little brother hadn't seemed this excited to him in many years. He told him about his toys and the cartoons he was going to show her.

"First the lessons. Then two hours to play and free time." He replied dryly, tense, glancing at his watch, thinking with rage that she only had fifteen minutes left, that she was sure to be late or not come and leave him in the lurch when he had already cancelled his presence at the centre's classes.

They both flinched when they heard the bell ring; Daeron said, moving briskly forward in his wheelchair that he wanted to open for her and indeed, after a moment the girl he had hired appeared on the doorstep of their house, smiling and content – her cheeks flushed again, her dark hair loose, pleasantly framing her bright face, on her body only a black top and tracksuit shorts as it was a sunny, warm spring morning.

"Good morning, Daeron, nice to meet you!" She said with fondness and satisfaction in her voice, extending her hand in front of her, which his brother shook confidently. Daeron moved ahead of her, glancing over his shoulder at her.

"Come, I'll show you my room. I'll explain everything to you." He said, rolling his wheelchair up to the door, which was located on the ground floor of their house so that he could move around easily. The girl nodded, pulling her trainers off her feet, saying that she will come to him in a minute.

He took the opportunity to walk up to her, towering over her, and she threw him a quick surprised look.

He thought her eyes seemed even bigger than before, he wasn't sure if they were blue or green, both colours blending into one.

"You are to take care of him. I want you to go through all the material that was prepared for today. Only two hours of free time, no more. Behave responsibly and only call if it's really urgent or if something happens to him." He said matter-of-factly, and she swallowed quietly, nodding quickly, clearly horrified by how close he stood and how cold his voice was.

Good, he thought.

He wanted her to be afraid of the consequences of her actions.

He sat in the office all day terrified, stressed and unsure, trying to focus on the file in front of him, while involuntarily still glancing at his phone, checking to see if she might have called him.

Was everything okay? What if something had happened but she was afraid to call him? Maybe he should go home and test her, see what was going on?

He thought he would go mad if he didn't, so he left work an hour early – Alys threw something at him as he walked past her, probably something about a meeting or an evening out together, but he didn't answer her, heading for the stairs and the underground car park.

He drove forward, trying to calm himself down, thinking about how oversensitive he was, that surely everything was fine.

He pulled up in front of their house hearing music in the distance, wondering if any of the neighbours were having a party outside at this hour.

However, as he pressed the key to the gate and it slowly swung open he saw in disbelief the girl he had hired riding with lightness and grace on roller skates in his driveway to the tune of the Scissor Sisters song Don't Feel Like Dancin. Daeron laughed out loud, spinning beside her in his wheelchair, both of them wearing elbow and knee pads, in addition to his little brother wearing a bike helmet on his head.

What the fuck was that supposed to be?

He got out of the car, furiously slamming the door, his brother wheeled up to him briskly, his companion spinning slowly around them on roller skates – she raised her eyebrows with a smile, seeing the look on his face and waved at him.

"Look how well I dance, brother!" Exclaimed Daeron, spinning the wheels of his wheelchair around his own axis again.

He, however, instead of looking at him grabbed aggressively the arm of his carer who was doing another spin – she nearly fell over because of his tug and caught him abruptly by his jacket in an attempt to catch her balance.

"Ah!"

"What the fuck are you doing? Is this what I pay you for?" He growled and shook her hard. She stared at him with wide-open eyes, her lips slightly parted in accelerated breathing from fear, her face red from exertion, strands of her hair stuck to her cheeks.

"Let me go, sir. I will not speak to you like this." She said warningly, her brow furrowed. He pressed his lips together noticing that something had changed in her gaze, suddenly confident and angry, ready to fight if necessary.

He felt that look in his trousers, he'd never had the urge to slap a woman's ass as hard as hers before.

He glanced at his brother, who was looking at him in horror, only realising after a moment that the song had long since ended and there was a tense, awkward silence around them.

He let go of her arm, seeing with satisfaction that he had left a bruise on her skin in the shape of his fingers – she massaged at the spot, furrowing her brow.

"You're fired. You're irresponsible. Good thing I came back earlier." He said with mockery and fury, walking over to his brother, unbuckling the helmet he wore on his head. Daeron burst into a loud, uncontrollable sob.

"I don't want to. I don't want to, I don't want to go back there, I want to stay with her. It's my fault, I told her I wanted to dance, please, please, please, I want her to stay, I don't want to go back there." He babbled, running his hands over his shoulders in some helpless, childish pleading gesture from which he felt a squeeze in his throat. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, her gaze fixed on his little brother, sad and resigned – she was leaning over, untying the laces of the roller skates that had once belonged to his sister.

"Something could have happened to you. You could have fallen over and hit your head on the ground." He replied coldly, kneeling in front of him, unbuckling his knee pads.

"But I had a helmet on my head. After all, normal boys fall off bikes and stairs and they're fine! Nothing would have happened if I'd bruised myself a bit, I'm not made of glass!" He burst out suddenly with a fury he had never seen in him before, burying his little face in his hands, all red from tears and despair.

"I won't go back there, I won't go there tomorrow, if she doesn't stay, never, never again, I'd rather kill myself!" He whined out loud, falling into another attack of hysteria in recent months – he had trouble catching his breath, his lungs were wheezing all over. He took his face in his hands, but he closed his eyes, not wanting to look at him.

God, why?

"Remember what I told you?" She asked walking up to his brother in just her socks, kneeling beside him, grasping his hand. Daeron immediately fell silent, looking at her with wide eyes.

"That boy who calls you Quasimodo is just mean. You are my Phoebus, you have his beautiful hair, humour and valour. I'll sew us costumes and we'll go to the carnival ball together. His jaw will drop when he sees that you came with your Esmeralda. What do you say?" She asked softly, and he looked at her in disbelief, wondering if that was the reason his little brother didn't want to go there.

That boy who calls you Quasimodo.

He felt a twitch in his throat and swallowed loudly, his brother nodding quickly, drawing in air loudly, his eyes full of hope.

"Promise?" He asked in a trembling voice, and she smiled broadly, sincerely, squeezing his small hand.

"Promise."

They entered their house as his brother calmed down; he told Daeron to go to his room and leave them alone, which his brother eventually did with great reluctance, crying for a while longer, not wanting to say goodbye to her.

As soon as he heard the door close behind him at the end of the corridor he slipped his wallet out of the back pocket of his trousers, took out a few banknotes and threw them on the table in front of her in a careless gesture.

"Get the fuck out of my house." He said coldly, looking her straight in the eye. He saw her lower lip twitch, the pain of humiliation in her gaze, her eyebrows arched in disbelief that such words had left his mouth.

He wasn't paying her to make a circus of herself dancing like some fucking Esmeralda, exposing his brother to danger and injury.

He pressed his lips into a thin line and trembled with rage as she took the money and tossed it in his direction, the banknotes flying scattered around his feet.

"You could dress up as Frollo for the carnival ball, sir. It would suit you." She said drily, turning away tensely – he moved behind her, feeling anger buzzing strongly in his veins at her words.

He grabbed her by the neck with an aggressive flick of his hand and slammed her back against the wall, her voice stuck in her throat in horror, her big, bright eyes open wide in disbelief.

He took a step closer to her, feeling her warm body quiver all over in his grasp, digging his fingertips deeper into her skin, finding with delight that she was obscenely soft.

"Do you have anything else to say?" He asked in a low whisper filled with threat – she shook her head quickly clearly feeling the situation was out of her control, obviously fearing if he was really going to do something to her.

"No, are you sure? I'm listening to you. Tell me something else interesting about me." He said softly, encouragingly, moving even closer to her, the tips of their noses almost touching.

He could finally get a good look at her and he found curiously that he still couldn't tell what colour her eyes were, now slightly reddened from tears of fear.

She shook her head quickly, not making a sound; all he could hear was their quickened, raspy breaths, her hand touched his wrist as if she wanted to make sure he didn't strangle her.

He was somehow delighted by how delicate, long and slender her fingers were, feeling a pleasant pulsing in his trousers at the thought.

"Look at you. So silly. Because you're a silly little girl, aren't you? You would benefit from someone teaching you a lesson. No? Then apologise and I'll let you go and pretend I never met you." He said calmly, her whole body quivering with terror.

"Never." She said quietly, and he felt involuntarily that his lips curved in a dangerous, satisfied grin, his fingers clenching tighter around her neck.

"You're asking for trouble, Esmeralda." He muttered lowly, her nostrils twitching in accelerated breath.

"I will report what you are doing to the police." She said dryly and he smiled even wider, feeling her tremble all over as he leaned over her ear, his nose sinking into her soft, flower-scented hair – he closed his eyes and savoured the experience for a moment before whispering something she froze from.

"I am a prosecutor −"

Her hand clenched tighter on his wrist, a moan of despair escaping her lips, as if what he had said had really shocked her, as if she was only now realising what she had gotten herself into.

"− and I've never lost a case yet." He whispered in her ear, sliding his face lower, to her jaw and then to her neck, pressing his full lips to her skin, leaving wet, hot marks on it. He heard her draw in a loud breath.

"− w-what are you doing, sir? − no −" She whimpered, he felt her lift her arms up in a defensive gesture, trying to pull away from him, but he pressed her against the wall with his body, letting go of her neck, his erection throbbing hard in his trousers, pressing again and again against her stomach.

She felt it, a terrified cry escaped her lips as his lips pressed tightly against her neck – he began to suck painfully hard on her skin, wanting to leave her a crimson reminder of himself.

"− how did you put it? − who do I remind you of? −" He asked tauntingly, running his rough tongue over her red skin, feeling the veins pulsing rapidly under her soft, warm skin.

"− I'm sorry − I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry − please, please let me go −" She mumbled out in despair on the verge of crying, her voice trembling all over in terror, her breathing raspy and uneven, her small hands clenched on the material of his black turtleneck that he wore under his jacket.

He gasped at her words, sliding his mouth lower, repeating the same process, rubbing against her with his hips – his cock was all swollen and hard, pulsing with pleasure, his hands roaming down her back, sliding at last to her buttocks where they clenched.

"− look at you − so you can be polite after all, hm? −" He asked softly, lowering the material of her tracksuit shorts a little, his large hand grasping her plump, firm buttocks and slapping it hard – she clamped her lips together, trying to hold back the whimper that squeezed its way down her throat.

"− that's what I thought − turn around and let's get this over with −" He murmured, soothingly massaging the place that was now pulsing from his slap, grinning as she did so wordlessly, tears of helplessness and fear on her cheeks.

"− please −" She muttered and he sighed softly, sliding the material of her shorts and underwear down, revealing what was underneath – she shuddered and wept quietly as the tips of his fingers ran over her swollen folds, focusing their pressure on her sweet spot hidden between them, digging into her fleshy skin in circular, calm motions.

"− shhh − this way it will be easier for both of us −" He explained in a soft tone of voice, as if he was telling her something obvious, as if it would benefit her in the future and teach her something.

He heard her shy moan full of fear, then another, a tad louder as his fingers sank more firmly into her skin. He licked his lips at the sight of the wetness that began to leak slowly from inside her and slapped his hand with a short, rough movement into the space between her thighs.

"− quiet −" He ordered, and she pressed her lips together, stifling whatever wanted to come out of them. Daeron was far away, locked in his room, but he still preferred him not to hear anything, and he didn't have the time or desire to take her upstairs to his bedroom.

This situation, her bent figure and her lovely buttocks pushed up towards him, suited him completely.

"− good girl − see? − it's not that hard −" He murmured pleased with how obedient she was despite the fear and terror from which her whole body was twitching. The confident movements of his fingers were accompanied by the louder and louder click of her moisture, her cheek pressed against the cold wall where her hands were helplessly trying to find support in this position, her eyes closed as if she just wanted to wait it out.

She opened them when she heard the sound of his zipper being opened – her lips pressed together with difficulty as he guided the fat, swollen head of his throbbing cock against her opening, leaning with his free hand against the wall just above her head, trying to force it between her tight folds with the motion of his hips.

"− wider − that's it, there you go −" He exhaled as she opened her thighs a little more and he spread her wide on his cock, feeling her muscles gave him a wonderful squeeze – he sighed loudly, surprised at how pleasurable the sensation was.

"− fuck −" He hissed out, clamping his hands on her buttocks, spreading them like a ripe fruit; she squirmed in discomfort as he forced her to take him deeper inside her, filling her so much that he felt like he was going to rip her skin apart.

"− barely fits −" He scoffed, moving his hips back and forth with a splat of her moisture dripping down her thighs – he heard her begin to pant along with him as he deliberately rubbed against her lower wall just above her very entrance, teasing the spot inside her from which her whole body was quivering.

"− here? − do you want me to fuck you here, little one? −" He gasped as he stretched her skin enough to fit all of him inside her, rooting into her again and again with increasingly brutal thrusts of his hips, digging his fingertips into her buttocks, looking at the spot where their bodies joined, at her muscles clenching against him greedily in panic, sucking him inside.

"− please −" She cried out, squeezing her eyes shut, her lips parted in disbelief at how pleasurable and terrifying the experience was. He sank his hand into her soft, dark hair and tilted her head back, burying his nose in the hot skin of her cheek, speeding up, stretching her weeping folds with a loud, lewd slaps of his thighs against her buttocks.

"− use full sentences −" He commanded, his other hand from her hip slid down between her thighs – she squirmed helplessly as his fingers sank again into her fleshy skin, sticky from her moisture, teasing her clit with circular, slow motions.

"− here − fuck me here, sir −" She mumbled with difficulty in a voice trembling with exertion, her cheeks all red, the beautiful curls of her dark hair clinging to her sweaty face – he felt with satisfaction that her hips began to respond to his eager thrusts.

"− good girl − that's my good girl −" He breathed out with a quiet groan of pleasure, seeing and feeling her walls squeeze his fat cock at his praise – he licked his lips thinking that Alys had never responded to him the way she did, so frightened and aroused at the same time, relying only on his mercy, his goodwill.

"− you understand that this is necessary, don't you? − that you need to be taught a lesson −" He muttered, feeling that he was losing his temper, thrusting into her so fast that he was barely slipping out of her, slamming into her again and again, his cock throbbing with desire, signalling to him that his peak was coming, her wonderful scent filling his lungs.

"− y-yes − yes, I'm sorry −" She mumbled out –he wasn't sure if she was saying what he wanted to hear or if she really believed it herself for a second, but she clamped her eyelids shut and spread her mouth wide, helpless, girlish, sweet moan of relief burst from her throat as she came, sucking and squeezing his cock, soaking it in her moisture. He sighed in relief when, after a few desperate, deep slaps he spilled inside her, feeling the wave of hot pleasure shake his body.

"− fuck − oh, God, little one −" He muttered, their bodies involuntarily moving for a moment longer, wanting to prolong this surprisingly shocking experience, both of them panting embarrassingly loudly, her body trembling all over – if his arm hadn't been holding her around the waist she would have fallen for sure, her legs completely numb.

He looked down at their joined bodies, his half-hard, throbbing manhood sinking into her again and again, all sticky from his semen and her wetness.

He swallowed loudly, sliding out of her slowly, realising now what he had actually done to her – he heard her quiet hiss of discomfort and sigh of relief, her face flushed from exertion and tears.

"− are you all right? −" He asked in a trembling voice, quickly zipping up his trousers, her shaking hands slipping her underwear and shorts back onto her buttocks.

"− y-yes −" She mumbled in embarrassment, horror and disbelief, not looking at him, in some automatic gesture reaching for her trainers, putting them quickly on her feet.

"Come back on Thursday as we agreed before." He muttered, feeling the rapid pounding of his heart and the panic rising inside him, a complete void in his mind.

What had he done?

"I can assure you that you will never see me again." She whispered in a trembling, broken voice, quickly put her backpack on her back and walked out, slamming the door, leaving him with complete silence, remorse and horror.

He pressed his forehead against the wall, hiding his face in his hands, and burst into tears like a small child.

How could he treat a strange, innocent girl like this?

What if she didn't take her pills, what if she got pregnant?

How could he have been so irresponsible?

What if she really does report it to the police?

I'll destroy her, he thought with a bitter certainty that, after a moment, turned again into terror, regret and shame.

He grabbed his phone quickly and dialled her number, wanting to beg her forgiveness, but she didn't answer. He sat down on the couch and drew in the air loudly, devastated, not recognising himself, realising what kind of man he was.

He laughed desperately, shaking his head, thinking with painful amusement how well she had judged him.

He didn't even have to pretend.

He was like Frollo.

_____

Author's note: Many of you may believe that Quasimodo is the best and most worthy of imitation character, not Phoebus, and this is true when it comes to the book, but I assume that if anything, Daeron at this age has only seen a Disney fairy tale, in which Phoebus is a handsome man with a noble heart. The whole idea of this scene, in which the heroine says that he will be her Phoebus and she will be his Esmeralda, is that Daeron wants to see himself not only as a person with a disability, but as someone handsome, a warrior that a woman could love one day. It's easy to understand how children's minds work and why his works this way, and his "Esmeralda" only wants to help him become the person he wants to be and encourages him not to give up on these dreams and this self-image.

_____

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[the-common-cowgirl]

Greater of Two Evils - Part 4

Summary: Reader makes a decision and goes home only to be met with a new type of monster.

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Dark! Modern Aemond x Reader

Warnings: DD;DNE, Manipulation, PTSD elements, talks of abortion, pro-life/pro-choice debate, cursing

Word Count: 1.7k

A/N: This chapter is HEAVY. I apologize in advance. It’s uncomfortable, however, essential to this fic. Sorry in advance!

Masterlist

The apartment felt cold when you arose from your disturbed slumber. With an aching body, you had pulled yourself from the bed and searched the rooms for a sign of life; There was none. Aemond must have left, which meant this was your chance to slip out of his apartment and go back to your shared apartment with your brother without an immediate objection from Aemond. Or maybe, you’d just catch a flight or train and get out of Drone completely; go back home to your parents. The enticing idea danced around your mind for quite some time. You stared at the hardwood floors in contemplation.

Would he chase me all the way home?

Would he ruin my family?

Would he ruin my brother?

You found, rather unregretfully, each of your prior fears were becoming less prevalent in the wake of understanding that you were in true danger. Dorne wasn’t safe for you; not with your brother and not with Aemond. At least in the Riverlands, your father and mother could protect you. Save you from your brother’s wrath; and Aemond’s. 

Your eyes lit up with a newfound vigor and you set to work bagging up what little belongings you brought, calling an uber to your location and buying plane tickets for Riverrun. You were out of that apartment before Aemond could return and although it was lost on you, there was a vase of 8 red roses with a card that simply read “Stay” on the counter in the kitchen. You hadn’t noticed it…unfortunately.

Your plane landed late into the night and you were grateful your father was still waiting for you at the airport. His arms were spread wide, his smile genuine as he embraced you in a warm hug. You missed this, you missed genuine kindness from men; however, the last few years living with your brother and the last month or so knowing Aemond had left you a bit scarred, marred with trepidation, making you pull from the hug quicker than you’d like. Your father noticed, you could tell by the sideways smile that had appeared on his face.

“Hey dad,” you offered a tired smile while taking a step back and grasping the straps of your bookbag. 

Your father reached around you and took the bookbag from your trembling hands. “Traveling light, my little trout?” He put a hand on your back and the contact made a phantom wave of chills go through you, making you grimace as you began to walk out of the airport and toward the small parking lot of this two terminal airport. 

“Yeah, just wanted to see you guys while we were on break.” You forgot how cold it could get this far North and wrapped your arms around yourself.

“Weird time to have a break in University.” He commented but didn’t pursue. “How’s your brother, we never hear from him anymore.”

Your eyebrows furrowed and you continued to look at the ground as you walked, “What? I thought he was sending some money each month and-”

“Your mom told him to stop that a few years back, made her feel greedy. No, after he quit sending money, we hadn’t heard from him. I guess he’s real busy down there in Dorne?”

You nodded, trying to understand why your brother would lie about something so small as sending money each month to help your parents pay the bills.

“Don’t mention it to your mom. Makes her upset. I was just wondering-”

You nodded again as you two reached the car. You hopped in the passenger’s side as your father started the vehicle. “So he’s not even talking to you guys anymore?”

Your father shrugged, as he backed out of the parking space. “Nope. Your mother thinks he’s just busy is all.”

Your father had always been a terrible liar and you just caught a hint that he didn’t necessarily believe what your mom did. You wouldn’t push the issue yet.

“How are you guys doing on your bills if I might ask?”

Your father rolled his eyes, “That’s nothing that should concern you.”

“I’m an adult, I can handle it-”

“Hey, I was talking to Mrs. Tully the other day,” he changed the subject, “And she said that there will be an opening for an Early Education Teacher at the start of the next school year if that’s something you’re interested in?”

Your heart dropped, you hadn’t told him your brother forced you to change majors. Your dream of being a teacher for littles crushed. You swallow your self pity and lie to your father, “Thanks dad, I’ll talk to her.”

The drive home is filled with more small talk, mainly your father telling you the gossip of small town life. Who married who, who’s cheating who, and who died. You remind yourself that this is why you took a chance on Sunspear and moved in with your brother but then again, the gnawing feeling of ‘I brought this upon myself’ creeps back up into your throat and you have to remind yourself that you’re a victim and you are not the bad person or persons here.

The victim guilt doesn’t seem to leave you, even when you pull into your childhood driveway. 

Stepping through the threshold of the house, it smells like chocolate oatmeal cookies and home; you feel tension leave your body and finally smile.

Your mom comes around the corner with oven mitts on and you laugh, rushing to embrace her. “Oh my darling,” she says into your hair, “I’ve missed you so much.”

And that’s how the reunion goes, late into the night, catching up at the kitchen table, eating cookies when all three of you should be sleeping. It feels good to be home but you are awaiting the inevitable and it happens an hour in.

“I know you’re not on break,” your mom starts. She could never be fooled, even when you and your brother were kids, lying about who hit who first; it was always you…even when it wasn’t. Okay, maybe it was only you that couldn’t fool her. “Why are you here in the middle of the semester?”

You looked down to your cup of tea, it had gone cold with very little left in the mug. Could you really tell them, did you have a choice?

“Does it have something to do with that gash on your head? Or the wrapping around your wrist?”

You nodded, sighing a shaking breath. “That’s part of it.” Your voice was small, like when you were a kid taking your brother’s punishment.

“What’s the other part?” Her voice was stern and soft, coaxing the truth you could never hide from her, out.

“I-um- I-” How could you tell them? How could you explain to them that you’re pregnant? How would they react? Your body shook with anticipation and anxiety.

Your father put his hand on your back and you felt cold chills again. “It’s okay, it's okay to tell us.”

No it isn’t. You two will not understand. How could you understand? Is it not enough to have lived it but now I have to recount what fucking happened to me? I have to speak out loud the atrocities sinned against me by my own brother and a fucking demon of a human when I myself, havent even come to terms that I’ve been wronged? How can you understand when I don’t even understand?!

And so, the root of your pain fell out of your mouth without your brain deciphering your words, “I’m pregnant.”

Your father sighed deeply, your mother sat back in her chair, you continued staring at the little bit of tea left in the bottom of your mug; hoping the little bit of residue left from the tea bag would tell you something uplifting or helpful like the ancient art of tea leaves reading. Then the irony donned on you and you almost laughed.

Here I am, looking for comfort in my tea instead of my own parents. I had to leave Dorne for tea?

“Well,” your mother spoke up, “who’s the father?”

You nearly laughed again, “Someone you don’t know.”

“Is he willing to help you with-”

“I don’t want to keep it.”

Your mother scoffed, “You don’t have a choice in that now do you?”

Your eyes lifted from the cold cup to your mother’s eyes, warm and inviting; deceitful. “I do, actually.”

“Oh you do?” Maybe in Dorne but not in the Riverlands-”

“Then I’m not staying here, I’m going back to Dorne. I just wanted to let you guys know before I-”

“Before you murdered my grandchild?”

Your father scolds your mother for being so harsh with a hand lifted from the table, her name and shaking his head and there you are again, feeling like you brought this on yourself.

Why did I even come here?

“Does your brother know,” your father asks, breaking you from your trance of self-loathing.

You shook your head; unable to speak. Staring down at the tea again.

“What’s your plan? Drop out of school and move here? You could work at the elementary school as an aide until you finish your degree here?” Your father’s voice is kinder than your mother’s but not any less incessant.

“I don’t- I think I’m done. I can’t afford it.”

Your mother shifts into the table, closer to you and suddenly you feel put off by this proximity. “Well, that’s fine. You can get a job here, we will help pay for medical expenses and the baby’s care. If-” she starts, grabbing one of your hands with both of hers, they’re warm. “If you don’t want this baby after you give birth- that’s fine. I’ll accept full legal guardianship, no questions asked. But please, don’t rob us of a grandchild. Don’t be this person. You always loved kids, that’s why you went into early education.” She pauses, looking across the table to your father with tears in her eyes. “But give yourself the chance to look at your baby and make that decision.”

You chuckle, a tear falling from your eyes. “Yeah mom, but what if the eyes looking back at me are his?”

As always, comments, reblogs and likes are always appreciated but never necessary!

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[vhagarlovebot]

NO ONE HAS TO KNOW. — STEPDAD!AEMOND.

summary: getting stuck in the middle of a storm and having to share a bed with your stepdad was definitely not in your plans.

content warnings: 4k words. 18+, fem!reader, dark content, age gap (aemond is 38 and reader is in her early 20s), stepcest, dubcon, somnophilia, thigh riding, daddy kink, unprotected sex, choking, fingering, praise kink, one bed trope.

note: you can block the tag “★. dark themes!” if you don’t like this kind of content. for those who were asking about this fic, here it is. finally. hope you like it!

comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

YOU CHANGE THE RADIO STATION making aemond groan in frustration. 

“your mother wants us there.” he sighs, turning down the volume and giving a quick glance in your direction.

“i had plans.” you try to clean the window with the back of your hand to look outside, but the heavy snow doesn’t let you see anything. “are you sure we should be driving with this weather?”

your mother loves when both of you go to her conferences, she always says you’re her lucky charm, but you really didn’t want to leave the city this weekend. you’re sure your mother would’ve understood but aemond dragged you out of the house before you had time to message her. 

“we’ll have fun.” he simply answers.

“sitting in a room full of people for five hours?” you look at him, raising your eyebrows. aemond glances at you once again and shrugs. 

“you’re right. but we’re already two hours in, we can’t come back now. not with this weather.” he shrugs and you sigh, defeated. 

aemond turns on the ac, humming along to the song currently playing on the radio. “what plans did you have?” he asks after a while. 

“i was planning on… studying?” 

“which translates into going to a party.” he chuckles, but then his whole demeanor changes. “why don’t you trust me?” his question takes you by surprise and aemond is quick to elaborate. “i know that me marrying alys must have been weird for you.”

you giggle, turning your whole body in his direction. “what makes you say that? it is, perhaps, the fact that you’re way younger than my mother?” you don’t mean to sound so defensive but you’ve never approved of your mother’s choices of partners. not because you don’t like them but because most of them have been barely old enough to drink. it was like having younger siblings. you were thankful when she started dating older men—older than you, at least.

“that’s exactly why i want us to be friends.” his smile tells you he’s being honest and, for a second, he looks younger than his age. 

“aemond, that is exactly why we can’t be friends.” you run your hand over your face, exhausted. having this conversation with him wasn’t in the list of things you needed to do. “having you as my stepdad it’s weird enough, just… don’t make it weirder.”

neither of you says anything after that and a part of you feels bad for talking to him like that, but the other one knows you can’t lie to yourself.

hugging yourself, you try to sleep until the trip is over. 

you have the same dream you’ve been having since that fateful night a month ago when you decided to go to the kitchen for some milk, and ended up listening to your mother and aemond having sex.

it wasn't your fault, really, you were just passing by when you heard it. you froze, struggling between keep walking or get back to your room when you saw them through a crack in the door. he was behind her, one of his hands on her hip while the other one tightly grabbed her hair, hips smacking against hers filling the room with obscene sounds. 

you stood there until her moans became louder, his movements became sloppy and you felt your slick dripping down your thighs. 

that night you touched yourself at the thought of your stepdad fucking you for the first time. 

it was hard facing them the next morning. as soon as you saw your mother in the kitchen you felt guilty, dirty. what kind of daughter does what you did? then aemond appeared out of nowhere, startling you by grabbing your hips. you immediately pulled away, his touch making you feel even dirtier. 

that night you humped your pillow thinking about him. you were going to hell anyway. 

“hey,” you hear aemond’s voice and his hand caressing your arm trying to wake you. “we can’t keep driving, the roads are closed.” 

“you have to be kidding.” you groan, rubbing your eyes. there’s a big sing in front of you telling you exactly where you are: a motel. 

“we’ll have to spend the night here.” he looks apologetic and you soften your expression, he is not to blame. “i got us the last room available.”

“great.” you mumble, getting out of the car. “just great.” 

going up the stairs to the room, your heart starts beating faster than normal, only then realizing you’ll have to spend the entire night in the same room. you and aemond. just the two of you. 

you’re one second away from telling him you want to stay in the car when he opens the door revealing something you definitely weren’t expecting. 

your heart drops to the floor when you see one tiny bed—just enough to fit two people—in the middle of the room.

“i’m going to take a quick shower.” aemond says, leaving his backpack at the foot of the bed. 

you change to the only pajama you brought—a silk and very soft sleepwear dress—because you thought you were going to be spending the night in a hotel by yourself. definitely not in the middle of nowhere in a tiny bed with aemond targaryen. 

you immediately climb on the bed, covering your body with the sheets, when you hear him getting out of the bathroom. you peek a little, and see him with just a towel around his hips, drops of water dripping down his toned chest.

you hide under the sheets when he loses the towel, all the blood of your body going to your face and between your legs. 

aemond hops into bed with you, careful not to touch your body with his but failing; you still can feel his silk skin brushing against yours when he gets comfortable at a considerable distance. 

you try to think about a bunch of different things. the cold war. the big pimple your friend had last week. how cold it is. your mother with a disappointed look on her face… 

“do you have to breathe so loud?” aemond complains, turning around until he’s facing your back. you can feel his breath on your neck sending shivers down your spine. 

“oh if it bothers you i can just simply stop breathing, is that okay with you?” looking above your shoulder you see how his brows knit into a question as his confusion deepens. 

“what’s wrong with you?” he sounds sad and hurt by your words. and for the second time in the day, you feel really bad. 

“i’m sorry,” you say, closing your eyes. “this is not how i pictured my night and i’m cold. i get bitchy when things don’t go as i want them.” 

aemond moves closer to you and your heart does a backflip inside your chest. he puts one of his big arms around your waist and without any effort moves you closer to him. 

“wh—what are you doing?” you stammer. even swallowing is hard. 

“you said you’re cold,” you don’t see him but you can hear his smirk. “and we don’t want you to catch a cold, do we? besides, i’m trying not to fall from this stupid tiny bed.” 

you don’t say anything. instead, you try to regulate your breathing, once again thinking about the most disgusting things to keep you from thinking about the closeness between aemond and you, and how inappropriate it is. 

after a while of thinking about the gruesome and injustice of the both world wars, you finally give up. 

“i’m sorry.” you say softly. but aemond doesn’t say anything. you don’t know if he’s sleeping or not but if you don’t say it now, you would not say it again. “i didn’t mean to speak to you like that.”

“mmh.” 

“i, uhm, would like that.” 

“like what?” he asks, confused. 

“to be friends.” you shrug, very, very aware of the closeness. “we shouldn’t hate each other.” 

“i don’t hate you. never did.” aemond moves a little bit closer, his chest now in direct contact with your back. “we should get along… for the sake of your mother.” 

you open your eyes, big with surprise and guilt. your mother who’s probably wondering where you are, if you’re safe, meanwhile you’re in bed with her husband. 

“this isn’t right.”

“yeah, this bed is too small.” 

however, neither of you tries to do something. in fact, you move closer. aemond slips his leg between your own, and you part them to give him access while your heart beats so fast you think you’re seconds away from throwing up. 

you try to sleep but aemond’s closeness and arm wrapped tightly around your waist only helps to feed your fantasies. he, however, falls asleep in just a couple of minutes, and you try to ignore his slow, regular breathing on your neck and how that makes you feel, but you are weak. and a terrible person. because you can’t stop picturing aemond turning you around and taking you right there on the bed, calling you a good girl for taking him so well. 

you know the thoughts you have about him are not normal but aemond hasn’t left your mind since the moment one of your best friends introduced him to you. you were mesmerized by his sharp jawline and smart ass, and to say that the long scar across his left eye didn’t make an impression on you is to tell a lie, because it only added to the growing attraction. 

you had time to get to know each other a little bit, in the few occasions you bumped into each other at one of the many parties your best friend was hosting and who, you learned thanks to aemond, was dating jace—his nephew, before your mother came into the picture, and you were forgotten. 

however, that doesn’t mean that the attraction you felt for aemond vanished, you simply ignored the weird feeling when you saw them kissing after he dropped her home one night. 

you don’t know how they met, but you know aemond didn’t know you were her daughter until he visited your home for the very first time and saw you walking down the stairs. he tried to talk to you about it but you never gave him the chance, and eventually he stopped trying. 

maybe it would’ve been easier if you had slept with him, that way he would be out of your mind by now. instead, you keep touching yourself at the thought of him and his grunts as he was fucking your mother, you keep replaying the way his hips were moving and smacking against her ass, you keep picturing yourself giving him that pleasure. 

you try closing your legs but his leg between your own makes you wince at feeling the friction it creates. you slowly move your hips, trying to feel it again, and when your clit makes contact with his thigh you have to bite your tongue to hold your moan. 

you close your eyes, guilt overtaking you. but only for a moment. 

“aemond?” you whisper, looking over your shoulder to make sure he’s sleeping, and when he doesn't answer, you take a deep breath, cursing yourself for what you’re about to do. 

you slide your hand down, spreading your folds and feeling how wet you already are. you bite your lips to muffle the moan threatening to spill from your mouth as you play with your cunt, barely sliding two fingers into your entrance. your other hand follows the same path, circling your clit with your middle finger, images of aemond’s face buried between your legs making you squeeze your eyes shut. 

you try not to move too much but it becomes really hard with every passing minute, and as your desperation grows, so do your gasps and whimpers. 

adrenaline courses through your body, something you’ve felt before—at night when you laid in bed, legs spread wide open touching yourself at the thought of him. but with aemond in the same bed, his warmth emanating from his body to yours, his arm around your waist holding you tightly against his chest… that is what pushes you closer to the edge, what makes you start moving your hips against his thigh seeking for something to give you more pleasure than just your fingers. it’s slow at first, afraid it will wake him up, but aemond seems to be a heavy sleeper because there’s no hair out of place, not even the slightest change in his breathing. 

you roll your hips with more confidence, hands squeezing and pinching your breasts. but it is still not enough; you need him. carefully, you reach down and place a hand over his, moving it to rest on top of your breast. his hand is bigger than your own, and you wonder how would it be to feel his long, slender fingers in your dripping pussy or wrapped around your throat. 

you drag your clit along his thigh, nearing your orgasm with every roll of your hips. you don’t notice you’re moaning aloud, until you feel aemond’s hand pinching your hard nipple, hot breath against your neck. 

you shriek, immediately stopping. embarrassment and humiliation replacing the pleasure you were feeling just moments ago. you don’t move, you don’t talk, you’re not sure if you’re even breathing, too ashamed of yourself. 

“so fucking greedy,” aemond chuckles, pinching your nipple again. “using me to get yourself off while i’m sleeping.” he grinds his hips against your ass, thrusting into you. 

“‘m sorry,” you mumble, a shiver rolling down your neck. your whole body is on fire, a combination of shame and tingling pleasure.

“then do it,” his voice is low, and you can hear the smirk he’s wearing on his lips. aemond grabs your earlobe between his teeth, making you arch your back, a soft gasp spilling from your mouth. “use me just like you were doing before. want to hear those pretty sounds again.” 

you swallow the lump in your throat, still not moving. you can’t. the voice inside your head keeps reminding you how wrong this is, how you shouldn’t have started something you shouldn’t be even thinking about. but your body speaks a different language, and aemond sees right through you. 

“tsk,” aemond runs his tongue down your neck, and a new wave of goosebumps spreads all over your body. “suddenly you’re shy? or is that you like it more when i’m sleeping? hm?”

aemond presses his bulge into the plush of your ass, making you feel just how affected he is. you try so hard to listen to the voice inside your head but you are weak, as you’ve clearly demonstrated, and all it takes to shut that voice off is aemond’s hand sliding down, fingers expertly rubbing over your clit. 

“it seems i’ll have to do all the work.” he nips at the soft skin of your thigh as his other hand makes its way to your neck, wrapping around your throat and squeezing ever so slightly.

“stop, please.” you blink repeatedly, trying to clear the haze from your mind. 

“your mouth says one thing,” aemond spreads your folds, pressing one finger to your soaked cunt, making you squirm against him. “your body says another.” 

your body betrays you while you’re still fighting against what you want and what is right. 

“stop thinking about it.” 

you really want to pull away, but your body screams for him. and you do it.

you start moving your hips, closing your eyes to focus on the feeling of his fingers rubbing your clit as your pussy clenches around nothing. your hands go to your breasts, taking your nipples and pinching, moaning when you feel the wet spot on aemond’s clothed thigh. 

“use me, fuck yourself on my thigh.” he moves his leg up adding pressure to your needing hole. “just like that… good girl.” you throw your head back, giving him access to your neck. he bites and kiss and licks, leaving marks behind. “can’t stop thinking about how perfect this pussy would feel wrapped around my cock.”

aemond pushes one finger inside you slowly and you inhale sharply, one of his fingers feel like two of your own, yet it’s still not enough to alleviate the ache you feel deep within you; so you desperately search for his wrist, digging your nails into his skin, silently asking him to go deeper, faster. 

“what’s that?” he teases you, leaning in just a little closer to whisper directly against your cheek. “use your words, baby.”

“want more, p-please.” you whimper when he inserts a second finger, immediately curling them upward. aemond brushes that spongy spot inside of you that makes you see stars behind your eyes. but before you could let go, he pulls his fingers out, rolling you onto your back. 

“want me to fuck you until you can’t take it anymore, is that it?” aemond asks you, climbing on top of you and spreading your legs apart. when you don’t answer, he presses his clothed cock against your soaked cunt. “don’t you know it is rude not to answer when someone speaks to you?”

“so-sorry,” you don’t even try to hold back the gasp escaping your lips. 

aemond grabs your jaw, forcing you to look at him. “answer when i speak to you.”

“yes,” you exhale shakily, hips bucking furiously against him. “i want that… yes.”

“nah,” he gazes at you for a moment, then shakes his head. “be a good girl and use your manners.”

“want you to fuck me… please, daddy.” 

aemond growls, pressing his lips against yours. it’s soft at first, both of you still insecure, waiting for the other to change their mind at any second; kissing feels a little too intimate. but when he thrusts into you, dragging the tip of his cock just right over your clit, making you wrap your legs around his waist, every coherent thought goes out the window. 

he breaks the kiss, pulling away enough to get rid of his sweatpants. “you have no idea how much i’ve been thinking about this.”

your heart beats faster at hearing his words. knowing that you’re not the only one with those sinful thoughts makes you feel less anxious, it isn’t better for either of you but you’re already deep into some twisted shit, there is no turning back, so, at least, you can allow yourself to fantasize a little. 

“you knew what you were doing when you decided not to use panties to bed, uh?” aemond looks into your glassy eyes, aligning himself with your entrance, gathering some of your slick before pushing inside, slowly and carefully, giving you time to adjust to him. “went to bed thinking about this.” he pants, biting his bottom lip to stop himself from thrusting into you. 

it hurts, he’s stretching you to the point where you have to hold onto him, nails digging into his back while your mouth hangs open, moans falling from your lips. 

“so big,” you gasp, following his gaze down where your bodies meet. 

“you can take it, baby” he says, hooking your left leg up higher which allows him to slide in some more. “look at you, taking daddy’s cock so well.” 

you feel so filled already, and aemond is barely halfway in. 

aemond leans in, pressing a kiss to your cheek, warm and soft. his lips slide down until he’s kissing you again, tongue violating your mouth with such desperation and rudeness that your head is spinning trying to focus on two things at once. 

he thrust into you fully, making you cry out. you feel him so deep inside of you, you are sure you can see the outline of his cock in your stomach. 

you squirm beneath him, whimpering and moaning with his tortuous pace, the cold from the silver chain around his neck touching your cheek every time he slides his cock in, a welcome feeling against your hot face.

you can’t think about anything, you don’t remember why you were so anxious about or why you shouldn’t be doing this. there’s no thought in your mind besides how good he’s making you feel or how obscene the words he’s whispering in your ear are.

“tell me,” he grunts, pounding into you so hard you have to bite your lips to stop yourself from screaming. “since when have you been wanting me to fuck you?”

your eyes flutter shut, head thrown back in pleasure. “since-fuck! since the first time—” aemond pulls out, until only half of him is still inside of you, and then sinks back in, making you whimper. “we met.” 

aemond lets out a loud groan, violently slamming his hips, fucking you harder and faster. he holds onto your hip with one hand, balls slapping against your cunt, as his other hand moves down to rub over your clit. 

“you look so pretty like this.” aemond coos, leaning in to place a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “taking my cock like the good girl you are.”

“daddy,” you don’t even have time to warn him before you’re cumming all over his cock, walls clenching around him and legs shaking so much they fall open by his side.

you are so warm and tight around him, that his dick twitches inside of you as he approaches his own climax. he fucks you through your orgasm until his movements are sloppier and he begins to grunt aloud, face twisted in pleasure. 

then, aemond pulls out, letting out a low moan as he comes all over your stomach, hot and white stripes painting your body. 

he collapses next to you, pulling you in closer. you just stare at each other for a while, not a sound coming out of your mouths, just heavy breathing and panting. 

“you okay, baby?” 

the pet name sends shivers all over your body. “i’m alright.” you shrug, giggling when he looks at you with a frown on his face. “i’m more than okay.” 

“good. because you need a shower.” he says, getting off the bed and taking you in his arms, making you yelp in surprise. 

aemond steals a kiss from you as he walks toward the bathroom, both of you still so high and lost in the moment to worry about what this means. 

when you wake up the next morning, the bed is cold and empty, and you can no longer feel aemond’s arm around your waist. but, at the same time, you still feel him everywhere. 

you smile, fingers pulling your bottom lip down, images of what you did the night before flashing through your mind, but as quickly as they came, the anxious feeling in the pit of your stomach also comes back, erasing the smile on your face. 

you’re fighting hard not to cry when the door opens, revealing aemond carrying two cups of coffee in hands. worry crosses his face when he sees your expression.

“what’s wrong?” he takes two big steps, leaving the cups aside, and sits beside you. aemond places a warm, comforting hand over yours. but you can’t look him in the eyes. “hey,” with his free hand, he cups your face, thumb brushing your cheek. “we have a long way back home, if you want to talk… we can do that.”

you nod, tears in your eyes as you finally look at him. he has a soft expression, reassuring you that everything it’s okay, even if he doesn’t believe that himself.

tags: @namelesslosers. @teamaemond. @abecerra611. @fleurriee. @vermithorn. @aemonds-fire.

© vhagarlovebot, 2023. — do not repost, translate, plagiarise or claim any of my works as your own.

#📮 ⌇ my works ​˖⋆࿐ #★. dark themes! #aemond targaryen x reader #modern!aemond #hotd x reader #aemond targaryen smut #hotd fanfic #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond smut #aemond targaryen scenarios #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x you #hotd imagine

[asumofwords]

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 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:

#aemond x reader #aemond targaryen fanfic #hotd #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen fic #aemond #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond x y/n #hotd fanfic #modern!aemond x reader #hotd modern au #dark!aemondtargaryen #dark!aemond targaryen x reader #dark!aemond #divorce au #aemond fanfiction #aemond smut #asumofwords #til death do us part #til death so us part fanfic #one shot #aemond one shot

[lovelykhaleesiii]

Merhaba!

If you feel uncomfortable, you can delete this request!

Warning: non-con, toxic behavior, baby trapping?

Request here! for a modern dark!aegon, where the reader has been his friend for a long time and aegon has a horrible dependency on her, as well as an obsession and mostly never lets anyone near her, since he sees her as his, anyway, the reader one day tells him she is accepted for a scholarship in another country but he gets mad because she is going to leave him so he forces her to have sex with him and also hopes to get her pregnant so she will never leave him.

you’re so cute nonnie!!!!! this is totally fine, I don’t normally write for non-con, but I’ll let this slide cause it’s kinda hot 🥵 I’m combining it with this ask, and leaning more towards a dub-con, manipulation tactic of dark!Aegon!!! hope you enjoy xx

quote in the link above is - "gentle, slow manipulation - "just a kiss" to "I'll only grind against you" to "only the tip, promise" to "just a little more" to "I won't cum inside" until you're a cum-filled wreck underneath them."

Dilemmas & Dreams.

PAIRING: Dark!Modern!Aegon ii Targaryen x fem!Reader

WORDS: 4,179.

WARNINGS: swearing, angst, co-dependency, somnophilia, dub-con, slight mentions of non-con, mentions of pregnancy, time jumps.

A/N - so this took me forever cause it was a hard concept to plot. tried to make it more dub-con/non-con but still slightly consensual, just because I do not condone using violence for sex. but dark!Aeg is just my intrusive thots. I also did not include my taglists, just cause I did not want to trigger or force anyone to feel the need to read this, if it isn't your thing <3 no pressure. this is for a specific audience.

It was an universal understanding that relationships could get complicated from time to time, to say at the very least... This did not cease with your unique relationship with Aegon.

With every fibre in your heart, you love him dearly, and that [if you were being honest], would never change. He generally was not the ideal type of man you'd pursue [as you had initially assumed] nor did you think it was even a realistic possibility to fall for his type. Likewise, you did no think of yourself as his particular type, although Aegon was less picky than you when it came to finding a mate. Yet he had this almost omnipotent-like power over you. Luring you farther and deep enough, he kept you eagerly lingering for more: for more of his touch, his scent, his love and affections. An urge you attempted countless of times to keep silenced and at bay, and yet you felt the constant, probing need to keep the man sated.

With many of your short, previous relationships, you'd never granted a man the opportunity to bear such a profound effect on you, nor did any of them truly possess the charisma Aegon had naturally wielded. It was all very consuming and perplexing, yet a part of you quite enjoyed the crisp attention Aegon showered you with in return for your loyalty and commitment to him. Your long-time warfare of constantly seeking approval and praise did not help the situation either, only exploiting your vulnerability more, as you vowed to refuse disappointing the man at all costs.

And from what you had learnt and could decipher about Aegon's history, he had never grown this infatuated with another before, let alone actually granted himself the opportunity to have a significant other. His previous flings had been fleeting and meaningless, only to glutton himself off of sex, inflating his subtle ego. However, you, you had caught him off-guard. A fellow colleague and long-time friend of Aemond's, you had met mutually. You knew of each other, though had never truly met, for Aemond was desperate to keep some distance between yourself and his elder brother. He had mentioned many things about Aegon, not all good, yet you knew better than to judge or presume. In theory, you were both quite the opposites, yet something about you, your innocence, warm demeanour drew him to you, like a moth to a flame. From the many family quarrels Aemond had disclosed to you, it seemed Aegon was problematic with some sort of self-conflict from within. He struggled with certain tendencies such as drinking, partying, avoiding responsibilities, yet nonetheless, he was still pretty decent and respectful towards you. Helplessly though, you felt an immense pity for him, even if Aemond argued against it, perhaps it was your nativity: regardless, the more Aegon latched himself closer towards you, the better he became. More present at home, the less he drank and spent his days hungover and pissed, the less hostile he was towards his family.

Although, he remained a pest towards his younger brothers, Aemond and Daeron, occasionally taunting them. Not to mention, he did go against Aemond's urges to leave you alone.

"Aeg, Y/N's off limits. I have never asked of anything from you, nor have I ever really expected anything from you, if I'm being honest. But, I digress, she is off limits. Understood?"

"Why, have you finally grown the balls to actually ask her out? Or you scared she'll actually say yes to the likes of me?"

"OFF LIMITS Aeg! I fucking mean it!"

"No, no- How about I date Y/N instead, and in return I leave you alone? See now that sounds like an even better deal to me, brother."

Not to mention, you were undeniably a sight for sore eyes, beautiful nonetheless, he was determined to have you. The thought that someone else could pluck you from him at any given second, not excluding his younger brother, began to stir something rageful inside of him. The more time he spent around you, the more possessive he could feel himself becoming. A side he did not fathom existed in him, yet you had so ignorantly ignited. Although, he relished in it. Eventually, and much to Aemond's reluctance he inserted himself into your conversations, making his presence known whenever you were around, or forcing his younger brother to exploit your whereabouts with threats only each brother knew about one another. Regardless, his tactics worked and eventually, you became his. His.

Since then all had been bliss, yet, now, you were struck with a dilemma...

****

"What do you mean you could be moving, Y/N? Is this a few weeks kinda thing or you're gone... For good?" Aegon raised, his voice growing audibly louder with such a ferocity, you'd never heard the likes of it before.

"W-Well it's a scholarship, Aeg. One that I honestly never even thought possible to get, I-I just applied off a whim. B-But now that they're offering it, maybe, just maybe, I was hoping you could support me."

The words fell shaky from your quivering lips; Aegon's face was struck with a blatant concoction of confusion, hurt and fury, like a wounded predator that had unforeseen a counter attack.

"Just answer me this, Y/N, how long exactly will you be gone for? How long are you planning to leave me?"

He took a great stride towards you, his hands reaching over, tightly gripping your forearms by the sides, as if in fear you might run at any minute. His voice although stern and unnerving, his lilac eyes glistened tearily.

"It-It's a funded Masters course, Aeg, just for two years I'll be studying abroad. B-But I'll plan to come back to see you whenever I can. Every holiday, every semester's break, you bet I'm coming back to you. A-And you could even come and see me, baby. You know, I-I would never leave you like that, Aeg, you know this, p-please-"

An eerie silence was all that you were met with, as Aegon's grip on you had loosened slowly. His face remained stoic, yet his teary eyes flickered, before he began to dauntingly nod his head, walking away from you towards the closed window of your apartment. You could hear sniffles, before he released a long, exhausted sigh as he looked onwards to the scenery outside.

"So this is how you disregard me, huh, Y/N? Is this how you see me, see us? Just something you can toss to the fucking side, once you find something a little more interesting to chase after?"

His harsh words stung like the venom of a viper. Now turned back towards you, his hardened gaze was chilling, almost even threatening. You felt somewhat fearful of Aegon at this very exact moment, although he would never hurt you, that you were certain of. He was often stubborn and hot-tempered though knew to control himself swiftly. Reassured by this, you simultaneously also felt the desperate urge to coddle and soothe his fears, vouching that you could nor would ever dispose of him like some piece of garbage.

"A-Aeg, never! That's not me, please! You are overthinking this, Aegon, you'-re-you're not thinking straight, my love. I-I know this can be overwhelming but t-try to understand me. Please-"

Taking a small step towards him, you came to a sudden halt, as he took a step back maintaining the distance between. His hand lifting mid way as if to signal you to stop, swatting you away.

"So now my feelings aren't valid? Fuck, Y/N... You really are starting to sound like a real, spoilt little bitch now. Just like the rest of them fucking sluts!"

Seating himself promptly down onto the bed, he ran his fingers through his platinum blonde hair, his head facing towards the ground, as another defeated sigh escaped his lips once more. It was only when he resumed his sole attention back unto your frozen frame, did he stupidly realise that now he had really crossed the line.

"Get out," Your voice although quiet just above a whisper, was crisp.

"Y/N-Baby-I-I didn't mean that-"

"Out, Aegon!"

A tightness in your chest began to intensify, a hand falling over your left, clothed breast, as your breathing began to hasten into loud, hitched sobs. Your eyes darted mindlessly around the room, feeling as though the walls began to close in, a sense of claustrophobia that you'd never feared nor experienced before brewing. Your cheeks turning scarlet by the seconds, as your eyes began to fill with hot tears, streaking down your tender face. Cowering down your other free hand, was poorly attempting to grab at anything solid enough to keep you upright, although Aegon bounding over towards you, reached over, lending you a spare chair, guiding your shaking body over to sit, as he cowered down in front of you.

"Y/N, Y/N, my angel, baby please- I-I didn't mean that, I-I could never mean that. I'm just so-just so upset that you-you didn't tell me about this. You-You always tell me everything. What would I do without you, huh, my sweet girl?-"

Brushing a strand of your hair aside, his other free hand cupping your hot, blushed cheek, his thumb stroking away a freshly fallen tear.

"H-How could I live without you for two years, if I can't even bear an evening without you?"

And yet no response other than earning heart-aching sobs from your behalf. Seeing you in such a distraught, unconsolable state only in turn tormented Aegon, as the tears that he had once so proudly held back, now began to streak across his soft, handsome face.

"B-Baby, please. Please, say something. I-I'm so sorry, don't-don't hate me. I couldn't bear it-"

"Ugh- Just fuck off, Aegon!-" Wailing his arms off you, you shove him off, as you stand hastily, storming aside, creating that deliberate distance in between once again. Aegon slowly rises himself up, that familiar hurt look tinged across his disheartened face, he roughly wipes the tears off his eyes, leaving them puffy and red.

"Sorry? Sorry about what exactly, Aeg? Sorry, that you can't just be an adult for one second, and accept the fact that some of us have priorities in our lives other than being in a fucking relationship? To think that you could be mature about this, how foolish of me..."

"Y/N, I-"

"Don't, Aeg! Don't even bother explaining yourself... I think it's best that you just leave me to decide."

Brazenly interrupting him before he could utter another word, your hand meekly gestures towards the door to your apartment. You couldn't even find the stamina to look Aegon dead in the eyes, fearful that any tender look from his part, you'd crumble once more in a second.

Seeing how riled up and tense you were, Aegon reluctantly began to pace himself towards the door, taking his time before a firm hand reached, gripping the metal knob of the door. The door opening as he unlocked the entry, he came to a sudden stop, turning back momentarily staring at you, tempted to say something. However, just as his attention panned across to you, your focus from him shifted elsewhere, fleeting from a window to the floor, desperate not to look directly at him. Sensing your message, he remained quiet as he left the premises, firmly shutting the door behind.

As the pain-staking silence fell once more, the intensity of the situation felt magnitude that very second Aegon had left. Feeling weak in your knees, your walked back over towards your bed, laying yourself down, burying your tearful face into a pillow, as the sobs returned, only now muffled. Your mind was racing rapidly. Regardless of what had unfolded, you cared deeply for Aegon and knew that it wounded him immensely that you hadn't involved him in your decision, prior to making such a life-changing commitment. It was his life too, that you toyed with, and a deep, integral part of you felt somewhat guilty.

Although, the ugly side of Aegon had showed, and it scarred you bitterly. Would he act and lash out like this at every chance something major would come? Was it a flaw of his, that you were willing to accept and embrace? You had no certainty. The fleeting minutes became hours into the night, as you laid still in bed, empty of tears, eyes stinging, your pillow soaked and face flustered, before you'd gradually began to fall into a deep sleep. Exhausted by the day's mishaps, you were hopeful the new day would offer some consolation...

****

Whether you had been dreaming vividly enough to be stirred awake, you could not say. Although, Aegon was on your mind as you drifted off to sleep, remaining in your dreams and as you slightly woke, too tiresome to remember the details of the events in the long hours prior. You felt something heavy, yet awfully familiar, the musky scent, pressing against your body.

Followed by a soft "shush-ing", you instantly recognised the deep, low tone that belonged to your boyfriend's manly voice.

"It's just me, baby. Go back to sleep. I couldn't leave you all alone like this."

"Hmm, Aeg-" Was all that you could pathetically muster, before returning readjusting your head on the pillow. It wasn't uncommon for Aegon to find himself in your apartment after hours or even whilst you were still out during the day, for you did offer him keys, and came home to find him lounging around as if it was his own home. You trusted him enough to share a copy, and up until now, he had been loyal not to abuse his right, thus, this reoccurrence had never startled you.

"That's right, my sweet girl. It's just me... I'm going to fix everything, okay?"

Unlike how sinister and brooding his tone with you was just hours ago, you now felt comforted and safe, hearing that familiar, saintly tone of his. Like a lullaby it ushered you back to sleep, as you felt a small, wet kiss planted on your forehead, as he brushed the astray strands off your face, taking a few moments to gaze upon you lustfully, before stirring himself up.

Feeling the mattress beneath move, you sensed that he was now positioned on his knees, hovering above you, as each leg pinned to either sides of your upper thighs, faintly hearing a metal clanging, as he unbuckled his belt and zipper. You remained laying comfortably on your stomach, your back facing him, your face turned to the side against the plush pillow, he could see you just faintly nodding against his words in agreement. It earned a soft smile from Aegon, as he pulled his pants down enough, laying over you, as his bare, hard cock began to grind against the thin fabric of your dress, just between your ass cheeks. Just from the sheer action, you could feel some wetness stirring beneath, a visceral reaction Aegon found so easily he could induce from you.

"Only the tip, baby... I promise. I'm going to make it up to you, my sweet, sweet angel."

Sensually lifting your dress up, he lightly lifted you, turning you slightly to the side with one arm, just enough for him to pull your panties down: planting you back gently, as to not startle you completely awake.

"My good, good girl. Always doing so well for me, not like anyone else...I was such a dick to you, wasn't I, baby?"

Earning another simple nod, he resumed with grazing his cock over your sensitive skin, feeling its pulsating throbs against your cheeks.

"But my princess, did do something very naughty... Trying to leave me, without asking. Leaving me all alone, you know how upset that would make me, right baby?"

"Hmm-Aeg-"

"But look at you begging for me...Now what makes you think you could leave me so easily, then? Precious girl, didn't think this through, did she?"

Gradually, his firm, thick cock slowly began to push itself deeper and deeper between your thighs, as one, strong arm stretched over your side to keep him steady, the other manoeuvred your legs, spreading them wide enough for him to position himself right between your centre.

"Don't worry, Princess. I'm here now, I'm going to help you make this decision, like a good boyfriend. Wouldn't want you to overthink anything, now let me take care of you... I promise I won't go in deeper, I won't cum inside."

Feeling your eyes naturally flutter from reality and dream, as you felt a lightening pain course through your body from the sensitive spot below. Aegon had forced himself in, your walls stretching as wide as possible to accomodate for his dense, throbbing mass, you could feel yourself tightly clenching over him, rewarded by deep, growling grunts and moans from him.

"Fuck, baby. Always know how fucking good to make me feel...Now why would you ruin it, and do something so stupid? Have I been so cruel, you wish to leave me?"

"N-No Aeg-" You'd managed to softly whimper, stirring even more awake, although eyes remained firmly shut, as you arched yourself in response to Aegon's slowly paced thrusts.

"Are you bored with Aeg, that you want to leave me?"

"No."

"Have I frightened you so, you wish to run away far from me?"

Within that split second he'd uttered those words, that familiar, daunting tone returned to him, and you felt your heart begin to beat feverishly.

"I-I love you Aeg."

Now his thrusts began to hasten in response to your words, his grunts primal and louder.

"Say it again, I'm struggling to believe you. You tried to deceive me today, angel. That was cruel of you...Say it again."

"I love you, Aegon."

This time more awake and conscious of what was going on, you were too deeply saturated in being sated by Aegon in the moment. You couldn't muster a single ounce of dignity nor sanity at this very moment to stop him in his tracks, knowing what he was capable of, he had all the power in his court.

"P-Pull out, Aeg-"

Your wetness now greatly coating his deep, hefty cock, feeling the mess beginning to ooze and seep from the edges of your entrance down your thighs. As he pulled out slightly and with his help, he turned you over, now both of you facing one another, although this time, managing to maintain complete and utter focus. Resuming to his sloppy, rough thrusts, you could feel the intensity of his cock, determined to push and shove himself as deep as possible, the tip of his cock just striking that sweet, sensitive spot of your cervix.

Aegon's face lowered down towards yours, as his ample, moist lips lingered over yours. Momentarily, just grazing above one another, before plummeting down on yours, as he noticed your lips beginning to stir to speak, desperate to shut you before you could ask once more. His tongue forced it way into yours, swirling and occupying your own: this unexplainable control that he had over you, now once more overtaking you. In the moments that Aegon had left, although maddened by his words, you had missed him. Could his brutal words bear truth, that two years without seeing him, would be impossible?

"Now, why would I do that? I promised you I would help, that's what I'm going to do. I'm doing this all for us."

His lips now trailing along your jawline down to the crook of your neck, where he knew you had a weak, sensitive spot that made you close to thoughtless. You could feel a upturn smirk strewed across his face, against your skin. Regardless, you could not surmise his intention, far too deep in devious, lustful thoughts, you needed Aegon to sate you completely.

"A-Aeg-"

Within a few more long, taunting minutes as Aegon edged you on, he could no longer contain himself. Feeling his warm, dense seed filling you up, it was a feeling unlike the many, intimate times before. You both were often proactive in protection, and yet tonight, although different, it was somewhat sublime.

"That's my good, perfect girl, that's it. Did so fucking well. I need you to stay put like this for me, okay?"

Regardless, that his fill had drenched you inside, Aegon remained buried deeply inside. Somehow, managing to turn you once more to the side, as he laid himself cosily behind you, thick, muscular arms holding you tenderly from behind, as his cock remained sorely stretching yet pleasantly coaxing you inside.

"Hush now baby, my good, sweet princess. How could I ever let you go so easily, huh? What kind of a man would I be to let his girl leave like that?-"

His hot, breathless words felt soothing as he whispered against your ears, his free hand atop, once more fixing the sweat-infused tangled strands away from your heated face. Leaving a few pecks of kisses against your dewy skin.

"Now promise to get some rest for me, angel. I need you strong for my little surprise."

****

Had you known what was to follow in the early months to come, the significance of Aegon's cryptic gesture following the sex that night. How his large, rough hand found it's way over to your lower abdomen, lightly caressing it in a circular motion, something he'd never normally done before, although not unquestionable at the time... Upon awaking early that morning, Aegon explained his surprise visit during the night, grieving over the sheer thought of losing you was enough to make the man cry once more, profusely apologising for the poisonous words he'd spat upon you. He refused to leave your side, and you knew you could not stop him. Nonetheless, he was well-intentioned, and you forgave him, allowing him to spend many more nights and days to come. Too preoccupied with the decision to be made, as Aegon kept pestering you for advice and discussion, you'd forgotten the whole notion of birth control, and only remembered a few days after. Regardless, the love making did not cease, as Aegon persuaded you that he wished to spend as many hours with you, "in case you decide to leave, I need to cherish every moment with you." Poetic of him, although, his agenda was far more conniving.

****

"Aeg- I'm, I'm pregnant."

The words were as sweet as honey to his sly ears: he did not lash out nor did he act upset nor surprised. In fact, unlike the momentous news you'd dropped before regarding the scholarship, this did not seem to phase him, not in the slightest.

You both rarely spoke of the thought of having children together, being both still quite young in age, and knowing that Aegon's youth was not one he favoured, regardless, he remained pleasantly optimistic upon hearing the news.

"Baby, this is good- This is wonderful."

"B-But what about the scholarship, what do I do?"

Cupping your tender, shocked face in his hands, his reassuring smile offered you some ease, though not enough. A child, an actual child. You hadn't really comprehended the notion of motherhood, nor did you completely go against it.

"Y/N, this-" One hand now stroking the same spot on your lower stomach, now a slight swell present, as he did those many nights ago. It all clicked now.

"This happened for a reason, you can't deny us this. Our own little baby, Y/N, we can have our own little family, sweetie. I promise I'll take care of us, all of us. You can't be stressing about some scholarship now..."

"But Aeg, I really did want it."

"So you-you want the scholarship, more than a family? More than making me happy or yourself? I thought you would be okay with this."

"I-Of course Aeg, I would love to have a family with you, only you now that I'm being honest. But I just always thought in due time, I-"

"Now's the time baby... This happened to us for a reason. Maybe the scholarship wasn't meant to be. Maybe something else will come along, they're always giving out scholarships, babe. If they offered it to you before, they'll offer it again. How could they deny you?"

His words sweet, and reaffirming. It was true, there were endless opportunities to apply for degrees and scholarships throughout the years. And it seemed Aegon, was extremely on board with the idea of becoming a father. Knowing how far he'd come from the rebellious boy he'd once been, stammering into the house late at night as Aemond and you remained studying endlessly, to the confident man he was now, was astounding. His dear mother, Alicent, even knew it, and thanked you deeply, for years she had been aimlessly trying to better her eldest.

"You are making all this possible for me, Y/N. Things I never dreamt to be or the person I'd become, you are the sole reason for my happiness. And now with this baby, I feel I could conquer the world."

#aegon ii targaryen #tom glynn carney #TGC #aegon ii targaryen imagines #aegon ii targaryen imagine #aegon ii targaryen fanfic #aegon ii targaryen fanfiction #aegon ii targaryen smut #aegon ii targaryen angst #aegon ii targaryen x fem!reader #aegon ii targaryen x y/n #dark!Aegon ii targaryen #dark!Aegon ii #modern!Aegon ii #modern!Aegon ii targaryen AU #dark!modern!Aegon ii #dark!modern!Aegon ii targaryen #aegon ii targaryen fanfic requests lovelykhaleesiii #aegon ii targaryen imagine requests lovelykhaleesiii #aemond targaryen

[li0nn3stuff]

Kiddo

Chapter two

Kiddo masterlist

English is not my first language, be kind.

Modern!Older!Aemond x Modern!Younger!Reader

•Chapter warnings: obsession, talking of sexual themes•

Two weeks after the encounter.

He found her.

That’s all he kept thinking about when as he sat on his office chair, his head leant down, his hand on his forehead supporting his head.

He found her. He found her. He found her. He found her. He found her. He found her.

Something was seriously wrong with him. He opened the fascicle that he managed to get, thanks to a person that owed him brought him. He didn’t ask for money, he did his job quickly. She was just an ordinary girl, nothing hidden somewhere.

If that would have been the case, still, he would have paid any sum.

That’s how hard she got him. He hadn’t been able to focus on work properly, ever since he met her.

He hated it.

He worked hard to get where he was, and he had to keep working hard. He had to have everything.

He wanted the world.

Her. Included.

He opened the desk drawer and he threw inside the fascicle, closing it right after, leaning back on his chair, pinching his lips between his fingers as he stared at nothing, thinking.

Her sweet voice.

He unlocked his laptop and the image of the high school popped in front of him. A mediocre one.

He found her.

If he wanted, he could do anything to her. He had the resources, the power, the money. No one would think of him, if an innocent sweet girl would disappear. He could keep her locked in his house forever.

He was a creep.

He knew that, yet he couldn’t stop the thoughts. He didn’t want it to go that way. He wanted her to accept him. He wanted to gently walk in her life, not fucking kidnap her.

He wanted to get her out of his head.

He closed the page of the high school. It was useless, there were no photos of her.

He had to find some. He was open to do them himself if he had to.

He missed her face, her sight.

Her perfume.

He got up from his desk, closed his laptop with his hand, and went over to the coffee table.

He bought a vanilla fragrance for his office, but he hated it.

It didn’t smell like her.

He wanted to have her on his couch as he worked, so he could look at her every time a client made him angry, and relax, because she was there. If that wouldn’t be enough, she would stand up to touch his hand with her, caressing him, letting him get engulfed with the heavenly sensation of her soft perfect skin on his. If that wouldn’t have still been enough, he would have grabbed her, fucked her on his desk until she would be reduced in a mewling, babbling mess. She would look at him with her sweet big eyes and make him cum inside her.

He had to get her out of his head.

Something was seriously wrong with him.

It had been two weeks, and his mind was full of a girl he saw for maiìybe five minutes.

The curve of her smile, the way her eyes sparkled with curiosity, the tilt of her head when she didn’t understand something, each detail etched itself into his mind, imprinting itself upon his consciousness like a brand.

He hadn’t been able to fuck anyone since he met her.

It was shameful, but it was just as true. No one went as close at her as he wanted. No one looked like her, smelled like her, sounded like her.

No one was her.

That stopped ever since. He had been forced to settle for oral sex, covering the women’s faces and using them to desperately come to his fulfillment. He used his hand sometimes, stroking his cock as he replayed in his head her expression as she gently looked at him, so thankful for a stupid thing as to put her a necklace that was hers. He ended up cumming on his hand, furiously pumping his cock, with a low groan.

He hated her.

She had to stay away from him.

He had to stay away from her.

He sighed and grabbed the fascicle from his desk, reading his notes as he got out of his office to attend a meeting.

God hated him in the best way possible.

As Aemond entered the meeting room , he forced himself to push aside thoughts of the girl that plagued his mind. He couldn't afford to be distracted now, not when there were important matters at hand.

He took his seat at the head of the table, his expression carefully neutral as he glanced around at the other executives gathered there. They greeted him with nods of acknowledgment, their faces serious and focused as they prepared to discuss the company’s agenda.

As the meeting began, Aemond found himself slipping into his usual role with ease, his mind shifting into business mode as he delved into the details of the company's latest projects and initiatives. He listened intently to the reports and updates from his team, offering insights and guidance where necessary, his sharp intellect and keen intuition guiding the discussion.

Despite his outward composure, however, Aemond couldn't banish the thoughts of the girl from his mind, her presence a constant distraction that threatened to make him lose his focus.

He cursed himself for his weakness, for allowing a mere girl to unravel the carefully constructed walls around his heart.

He prided himself on his self-control, his ability to remain detached and unaffected by the whims of others. And yet, here he was, consumed by thoughts of someone he barely knew.

He forced himself to put his girl out of his mind, to focus on the matters at hand and prove to himself that he was still in control.

He wasn’t. He hadn’t been since he met her.

As the meeting drew to a close, Aemond rose from his seat with a sense of relief, grateful for the opportunity to escape the confines of the meeting room and return to the solitude of his office. He had work to do, and he couldn't afford to let his girls distract him any longer.

He was captivated by her innocence, her purity, her beauty.

He longed to possess her, to make her his own in every sense of the word. The thought of corrupting something so pure and precious was consuming him.

He wanted to be the one.

“Cancel all my plans for lunch.” He ordered his secretary.

“Yes, Mr. Targaryen.” She quickly answered, fixing his agenda on her computer. He got in his office, loosening his tie, as much as to remain formal.

He had waited enough.

He opened his laptop and checked the address, before grabbing his stuff and his car keys, then he walked to the elevator at a fast speed.

As the elevator doors closed behind him, Aemond's mind raced with anticipation. He had never been one impatient, yet, at the thought of seeing her, even from afar, excited him. No. It did more.

He felt his cock stiffen.

The drive to her high school was a blur, his mind blank, as he drove carefully. The high school exit was open, with a parking lot. There were a lot of cars, some parked, some waiting on the side of the road, probably parents waiting for the kids.

He felt like a creep.

The only reason he was there was to look at his girl, who was half his age, hoping to be able to catch her beauty in a quick photo with his photo.

A pathetic creep. And he was risking a lot.

His image first.

He felt a surge of adrenaline coursing through his veins as he caught sight of a group of students gathered in the courtyard, their voices mingling in the crisp afternoon air.

He carefully scanned the students with his eye, but he didn’t find her.

He wanted to see her. Even if he would only catch a glimpse of her, he needed to see her.

His whole body was quivering with anticipation, hope.

He thought hard, where could she have been if not there?

He knew she was a hard worker, and he knew she always stayed at school as long as she could, but he didn’t know if she preferred to have lunch outside or not.

He needed to find out her habits.

Where she liked to have lunch at school, what did she liked to do in her free time, did she have friends? Did she like going out dancing? He hoped not.

His phone rang suddenly, and he groaned, as he saw his secretary’s contact on his screen.

“What is it?” He groaned at the phone.

“Mr. Targaryen, I know you asked for a free lunch break, but Jason Lannister is here, and he is asking for you, insistently.” His secretary said, worried, on the phone. He sighed and pitched the base of his nose with his fingers.

“How long will he wait?” He asked as he turned on the engine, looking ahead of him.

“He is calm now, but I believe it will last no more than ten minutes.” She answered.

“I’ll be there in fifteen, offer him a coffee.” Said that he hung up. To be fair, he could be in his office in five minutes instead of fifteen.

He just wanted to… He looked back at the school.

What the fuck was he doing?

He was risking a lot, for a stupid girl he barely knew, that made his cock get hard only at the thought of her.

Did she know she ruined him so much?

He gripped the steering wheel tightly.

She didn’t know what she did to him.

She probably forgot about him, and he hated it.

She was constantly in his mind as she was living her life, careless.

He couldn’t have it. He had to change it.

He will change it.

He turned the engine on, and quickly drove off from the parking spot.

What the hell was he thinking? Got to her school, see her, photograph her?

What was happening to his mind?

He was a powerful, strong, growed up man, yet, he had his mind full of a stupid teenager he met once.

He hated it. He hated it all.

God hated him in the best way possible.

He damned him with such a girl, knowing he had almost non-existent possibilities.

Still, he felt blessed for seeing her, noticing her, appreciating her.

Appreciating.

He could fool himself as much as he wanted, calling it ‘appreciation’.

It wasn’t.

And nothing was gonna stop him.

Not even God.

Tag: @zenka69 @blaustappen @julczimozart @diannnnsss @i66cilla @odeioemail @queenofthekeep @summerposie @tssf-imagines

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[themotherofhorses]

maybe you think that you can hide (i can smell your scent from miles)

summary: let it be known that accepting defeat is not in aemond targaryen's nature. and with a witch now in his hands, the distance between you and him is only shortening.

pairing: (somewhat) dark!aemond targaryen x fem!reader

warnings: explicit language. mentions of violence, previous smut, and child loss. male masturbation. massive obsessive tendencies on aemond's part.

notes: to quote my mom, megan thee stallion: "pressed, stressed, obsessed, i got 'em."

masterlist | series masterlist

part one | part three | part four | part five

The rain was light. From his chamber’s windows, Aemond One Eye could see the fat raindrops fogging up the glass frames and mudding the open courtyard below, where he usually trained under Ser Criston Cole. The evening weather was peaceful and calm, very soothing, but Aemond’s mind was anything but.

He had been counting the days, as it was all he could do right now.

Three months, perhaps even four, since his own lady wife vanished, leaving no trace of herself behind.

Aemond deeply regretted not having a septon marry the two of them in the eyes of the Seven that very night that he claimed her, or whisking her away to Dragonstone in secret to wed her in the customs of his ancestors. Oh, he knew that his family would object to the marriage, but he did not care. She was his, and they could not, would not, deny that. She and the babe. They both belonged to him.

And now they were gone.

It weighed him down most days- if not all, a sort of feeling so heavy in his chest that sometimes it made it hard to breathe. Were they both alright? Safe and healthy? Had she gone against his wishes and returned to her homeland? Aemond had no way of knowing the answers and that itself was most upsetting, because what if they were dead? Or injured, with the Stranger trailing after them, awaiting the chance to rob them from him?

He shakes his head at that. I will find them, he swears to himself, while a fist clenches into a tight ball, no more of these ill thoughts.

But with no more ill-mannered thoughts come those of vengeance and punishment.

How dare she, this lady wife of his, flee from him!

He promised her everything under the golden sun and more- a plentiful and comfortable life as a princess of the realm and the mother of his heirs, as well as his very own beating heart and soul and seed. What more could the foolish girl long for? Aemond stares out the window, towards the gentle hill slopes of the realm’s countryside. The land was silvery from the rain and blanketed with a thick mist. What could her homeland provide that he could not?

He sighs before turning back to his empty bed, the left side, from where she once laid, now cold and untouched, with her sweet scent slowly fading. He hates it.

Yet some of it was still left, to his many blessings, and he brings the sheets to his nose, taking in a deep whiff.

The smell makes his cock stir and harden in his pants, and he soon grows too weak in the knees and in his resolve. He tears off his trousers and lays on the bed, his cock in one hand, and her side of the sheets in the other, his mind spinning countless images of his young bride. Every thought sent more blood rushing in between his legs, memories of her pretty body and all the marks and bruises her skin wore, her cries and whimpers, and the way her tearful eyes bore into his.

After that night, he took her more and more, in varying positions. Some new, others old. Sometimes he mounted her from behind, shoving her face down into the pillows to muffle her loud moans and screams as her hips slapped against his, and while that was pleasant, he soon realized he did not care for such. Aemond liked seeing her beautiful face twisted in pleasure and the way her breasts bounced with every thrust, and how she easily flustered whenever he leant to whisper a string of praises in her ear.

He also liked when she sat on her knees with his cock in her mouth, her tongue working wonders as she stared up at him as if he was a god and she one of those whores that belonged to the Street of Silk. But he never dared mutter those kind of words aloud, fore his lady wife was so much prettier than them damned wenches, too sweet and innocent and pure, and wholly his.

And not long after that, she began to glow, the sort that came only with motherhood.

He loved it and felt nothing but immense pride.  

Was she still glowing, and swelling with his child? Aemond was certain she was, and he could only imagine the sight, one most beautiful to man. He remembered his mother’s pregnancy with his younger brother- how her feet constantly ached, and all the times she would ask Ser Cole to fan her, or switch gowns because she grew too uncomfortable and moody.

Was it the same for his wife? Were her little feet hurting as well?

The thought of such makes him bite down hard on his bottom lip, trying his best to swallow his own grunts and moan, and with a whine so unlike him, the head of his cock weeps and spills more of his seed, down his hand and onto his thighs.

What a waste, he thinks emptily, while eyeing the mess he had made, all this belongs to her, yet the foolish girl refused to see it.  

Heaving out yet another heavy sigh, he reaches for the rag that sits to his side. What more could be done? Nothing. Foolish, foolish little girl, he clicks his tongue, all this because of you. He then calls for the maid, requesting for her to draw him a bath.

Tonight, he will dream of his lady wife and their little babe and the life they should be sharing at this very moment. He will ponder over names and if the child will favor her looks or his, and how he will need to meet with the royal seamstress for a layette. And as he sinks himself into the scalding hot waters of the bathtub, he smiles in contentment.

One-eyed Aemond Targaryen will have his wife, and his child too, by any means necessary. 

It was after he sacked Harrenhal that Aemond finds the opportunity he had been waiting for.

The sixth month was nearing with still no sign of his little wife, though the princeling did not dare to consider admitting defeat. There was much pent-up frustration and fury within him, festering from all the damned months he faced of constant loneliness and dryness, and the riverlands faced the brute of it, most notably House Strong. In the ward of Harrenhal, at the hands and command of Prince Aemond, no Strong was spared- neither trueborn nor bastard, all but Alys Rivers.

He had previously heard that the rivers woman was an alleged woods witch, though she dabbled in other branches of the craft. Blood magic too, several little birds say as well.

It gives him an idea.

So he demands two of his knightsmen to bring to him the wet nurse, dark-haired and twice his age. When she stands in front of him, dressed in a soft emerald gown and with her bodice sullied wet from her breast milk, he does not expect for her to bat her black eyelashes and promise to warm his bed if he grants her protection.

“I can be of great use to you,” she adds, in tones thick with seduction.

But Aemond is quick to unsheathe his sword and hold it at her throat. “It should be known that I carry no love for your kind, witch, and that I dare not touch another woman who is not my wife,” he seethes, pressing the blade harder against her skin, “-either you pledge to help me find her, or I will sever your tongue. Perhaps I’ll send it to the whore of my eldest sister as a gift, seeing how she loved you Strongs so much.”

In the back stands Ser Criston Cole, biting his own tongue from saying anything. He may have been the second son of Viserys Targaryen, but Prince Aemond was the knight’s through and through.

The woman nods, and Aemond pulls back his sword. In his mind, he is giddy with excitement at the thought of finally having his dear wife back in his arms, where she belongs.

And the babe, he can hardly wait to see him too.

Alys wipes away the tiny welts of blood budding along her neckline, grimacing. She recognizes the blade as Valyrian-steel, with an edge that could have cut her head clean off. It is probably spell-forged too, she thinks. “My time and craft come with a price, Prince Aemond,” she says, steeling her voice to hide the fact that she is licking her wounds. “I expect to be paid in return.”

“Yes, I know,” Aemond hums, while sliding his sword back into its sheathe. “You will keep your life, and still have the chance for more babes to feed from your chest.”

He debates whether to bring her back to King’s Landing, in case his own children need a wet nurse, but the thought is off-putting, and he wishes not to offend his wife when she returns. Instead, he turns back to study the rivers woman. “My wife is missing,” he says, “and I wish to find her and bring her home.”

Alys frowns. “When was the last time you saw her?”

“Six months ago, in our room. She disappeared the next morning, leaving nothing behind.” Aemond sighs. “She is with child,” he says ruefully, “and I worry every day." He rubs at his temple, shaking his head. "This is her first babe, and mine as well. I have made her into a new mother with the promise to remain by her side, but now she is gone, and I haven’t the slightest clue where she might be.” The pain returns again, followed by anger and frustration, as well as the deep regret for not doing things differently.

His words give Alys a chill. She always had a soft spot for children and the young maidens that found motherhood too soon in their lives. Maybe because that was her once, so many moons ago, losing child after child well before their lives began.

She mourned so many dead babes that the thought of another girl going through the same felt sinful.

Finding sudden courage, Alys takes Aemond’s hand in hers. “Let me help you, Prince Aemond,” she tells him, all with the gentlest smile. “A father should be with his children, and a wife with her husband.”

His violet eye finds her green ones, and she catches the smallest glimmer of hope flickering within. “Thank you.”

“Blood magic would perhaps be the best way to find your wife, my prince.”

Aemond tilts his head at Alys. “How so?” The Faith of the Seven went against magic, and harbors little love or respect towards those who practice it, and he grew up with similar sentiments. But at this point, he is too desperate to care. All he wants is her back.

May the Father and the Crone forgive him in his later years, though he has a feeling that the Mother might be rather sympathetic and understanding towards his situation.

“It is a strong and powerful craft,” Alys explains, “capable of things beyond our own understandings. This sort of magic- it has the power to deliver life and then steal it away. ”

He hums, nodding along. “And how would it work?”

Alys pauses, unsure of how to say her next words. “It would require the blood of your wife, my prince,” she says, carefully, “even just the tiniest droplet would work well. I could call upon my own gods to find her. If she pricked her finger on a needle or scraped her knee, as long as it drew fresh blood, there is no use in her hiding.” But her head then drops, and her shoulders slump too, “Yet seeing how she has been gone for so long, I do not know how it could be done, or what else to do in that matter.”

Aemond remains quiet from where he sits by the room’s hearth. He brushes his knuckles against his lips as he thinks, and thinks, and thinks some more. “Would dry blood work?”

Alys blinks. “Well, maybe?” Her mouths flatten in a line as she ponders over the idea, trying to remember if her old readings ever mentioned anything about dried blood and rituals. “I suppose so, my prince,” she replies with, fiddling with her long and thin fingers, “Blood is blood, regardless of time.”

At that, he leaves the room, only to return several minutes later carrying a single bedsheet, cream in color. Alys watches as he drapes it over the chair he had sat at, making sure to smooth out any wrinkles. When he is done, he calls for the witch to join his side, and when she stands next to him, he gestures to a bloodstain at the center, dried and a bit crusty but still obvious.

“My wife’s blood,” he says, smirking, “from the night I took her maidenhood and gave her our son.”

Alys glances at him, and her lips pull back into a smirk too. “Perfect.”

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(if I did not tag you, it’s because it did not let me! im sorry, little love, the tumblr gods hate me today.)

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