Summary: Aemond has been crushing on you since forever but is too shy to tell you. One night while watching a movie with your friends and cuddling underneath a blanket he shows you just how much he desires you.
Based on this little prompt "What if I pull your panties aside, and finger you in a public place…?"
Word count: +3700
Warning: 18+ for explicit content and language, fingering, teasing, dirty talk, hand job (sort of), mild choking,
***
All my fics are also on AO3
***
Aemond’s mind was everywhere except focussed on the movie playing on the big tv in front of him. Lord of the Rings the Two Towers just finished a few minutes ago and the intro for Return of the King now filled the screen. Aemond adored these movies, they always managed to get him out of his own head and distract him from whatever was happening in real life.
But tonight, even Frodo and Sam didn’t succeed in changing his low mood.
If it were up to him he’d be in his room right now, wallowing and hiding away from the world.
But his friends had insisted he’d hang with them for their weekly movie marathon. Part of him was grateful they looked out for him and cared enough, but another part of him just wanted to be left alone.
You’d been gone for over 5 hours now and he hadn’t thought of anything else since, how beautiful you looked with your hair down and that short, sexy black dress you only wore on date nights. Not that he would know anything about that. You had dated half his friend group but never him.
Of course not him, why would you?
He grabbed another handful of popcorn and tried to focus on the beginning of the movie but it was no use. He knew he’d go to sleep with you still on his mind, like he had so many night before in the past 3 years since he’d known you.
It was completely pathetic, but what was he to do? You were his best friend. He was the first one you ran to after every single one of those dates, sometimes to talk about how amazing the guy was and how you hoped he might be the one, but more often than not it was to cry on Aemond’s shoulder after another asshole broke your heart.
The jealousy was enough to drive him insane sometimes, but still he was only too happy to lend you his shoulder and his arms whenever you needed them.
You always seemed so comfortable around him and in return Aemond could let his guard down with you, which was rare for him.
Your friendship was the most important thing in his life, he’d rather die than lose you, and he'd rather have you as a friend than not have you at all. So he kept his feelings locked away deep down and played the part of supportive best friend while you went on one date after the other with a bunch of guys who never stuck around for very long.
But he always would. Until maybe one day you would see…
He knew that was a dream he should stop indulging in but he just could’t help it, he was too far gone for you and tonight was a low point. He craved you so bad just the thought of you in that black dress had him growing hard in his sweatpants.
***
You opened the door of the apartment as quietly as you could, not wanting to draw any attention to yourself. You knew they were all watching the movie and maybe if you were careful enough you could just slip past everyone and get to your room without having to explain…
“Y/N!”
Shit.
Helaena’s voice made everyone look up at you. Your friends were all spread out across the living room, on the couches and on the floor, covered in blankets and surrounded by cozy lights and candles. The whole setting was very inviting yet you wanted no part in it right now, you just wanted to get to your room before you would burst out in tears.
But when Helaena got up and put her arms around you that plan failed.
“Oh, honey, no…what’s wrong?” she looked at you with concern on her face.
“Bad date,” you sobbed,”Don’t wanna talk about it.”
“Okay,” she caressed your hair,”Do you wanna watch the movie with us? We just started Return of the king.”
You shook your head,”I just want to crawl into my bed and disappear.”
But Helaena didn’t let go of you and shook her head,”No, I can’t allow that.”
“Can’t allow that?” you couldn’t help but smile through your tears.
“Come join us, you can cry over that asshole later, the people who care about you are right here.”
You sighed.
“Please?” she added with her sweetest smile, pulling you over the edge easily. You knew she was right, you deserved to end the night surrounded by friends instead of alone in your bed crying over some guy who wasn’t even worth it.
“Fine,” you caved,”just give me a few minutes.”
“Take your time, grab some popcorn and a drink from the kitchen and come find a spot.”
You did as she suggested, making a quick stop in the bathroom first to wash off your make up and exchange your dress for some comfortable shorts and a t-shirt. Then you got some snacks from the kitchen table and a soda from the fridge before making your way back to the living room.
Much to your dismay everyone was sitting in pairs, even Helaena who seemed very cozy next to Jace. You instantly wanted to turn on your heel and go hide in your room anyway. But then you saw him, the only one who was sitting by himself.
Aemond.
He was already looking at you when your eyes met his and he gave you a little smile, mouthing,”You okay?”
You shook your head.
“Come here,” he beckoned and he lifted up his blanket, an invite to join him and you didn’t hesitate.
You placed your drink and snacks on the table and crawled into the empty space next to him, Aemond was quick to cover you with the blanket.
“Hey,” he spoke softly, his hand on your lower back to pull you to him and place a quick kiss on your cheek.
“Hey, Aem,” you smiled weakly.
“That bad, hmm?” he asked.
You laughed bitterly, feeling the tears well up again,”Yeah, that bad.”
“Want me to go beat him up? Run him over with my car? Set fire to his place? Just name it. I can make it look like an accident.”
Your laugh was sincere and his lips curled up into a smile of his own while his hand squeezed at your hip.
Despite your best efforts a tear ran down your cheek anyway.
“Hey, baby, don’t,” he whispered while his hand gently cupped your cheek, brushing your tears away,”Don’t cry, sweet girl.”
You leaned into him, resting your head on his chest and Aemond wrapped his arm around you, gently caressing your hair while he held you.
“You liked this one, didn’t you?” he asked with a sigh.
“No, he was a total jerk.”
Aemond’s other hand gently cupped your cheek, his eye meeting yours,”Then why the tears?”
“I’m just…so tired of meeting these assholes. He flirted with the waitress the entire time, right in front of me, even gave her his number, like I wasn’t even there and…it just made me feel so…unlovable.”
Aemond’s jaw tensed up and you could see anger boiling in his one good eye.
His thumb traced your jaw,“Give me his name and I will make him regret it.”
He sounded so intense and serious you weren’t sure if he was still joking or not and it made a shiver run up your spine.
“When you talk like that I almost think you mean it,” you pointed out.
“Almost?” he gave you a teasing little smirk and you shook your head, leaning into his touch and Aemond didn’t hesitate to wrap both arms around you and pull you into him. You melted into his arms and let the rest of your tears fall freely, knowing Aemond would hold you through every last one of them.
You felt like the luckiest girl alive having him as your best friend.
He tightened his hug, soothing you with sweet, comforting words while his hand softly stroked your hair.“It’s okay…I got you, sweetheart..it’s okay, he doesn’t deserve you…please don’t cry…It’s alright, baby, I’m here.”
This wasn’t new, you crying your heart out in Aemond’s arms, it happened way too often, but something felt different tonight. The pet names, the way his touches lingered and how hungry he looked at you in between made your stomach flutter. And you didn't want it to stop.
Your tears were soon forgotten and the horrible date faded into nothing but a distant memory as you relaxed under Aemond’s attention.
You were stroking up and down his back when you accidentally slipped your hand underneath his shirt, a small whimper left his lips at your unexpected touch. It encouraged you to do it again, letting your nails drag across his back, this time he let out a small moan and his hand tightened in your hair.
“Aem,” you buried your face into the crook of his neck, breathing him in and making him shiver. He was biting his lip to keep from moaning again as you continued to touch him.
When you placed a soft, innocent kiss in his neck he lost that fight.
You couldn’t help but smile seeing the effect you had on him and you kissed him again, this time letting your tongue trace lightly over his skin until he shivered again. You pulled back.
“Don’t stop,” he whispered, grabbing the back of your neck to hold you close to him,”Please…please baby, don’t stop.”
His one hand moved down your back to cup your ass and pull your one leg over his, your knee bumping up against his growing erection.
There was no way you were going to stop now.
You kissed his neck again and Aemond pulled the blanket up a little higher, making sure no one else could see what you two were doing but everyone seemed too distracted watching the movie anyway.
Your hands moved underneath his shirt to touch his chest and stomach, his skin was warm, hard and soft at the same time and you could feel him shiver again, his hungry eyes begging you not to stop.
Aemond was losing his mind, your hands all over him were driving him crazy and when you started kissing his neck again he was suddenly rock hard in his sweatpants. He needed to take control back fast, he grabbed your wrists to hold you back.
“Turn around,” he begged in a husky voice, still breathing faster than usual.
He manoeuvred you into a different position so you were lying with your back up against his chest. You instantly missed the feeling of his skin under your hands but it was forgotten about quickly when Aemond gently moved your hair to one side, exposing your neck to him and then placing soft, hot kisses on your shoulder.
Now it was your turn to try and stay quiet and you were losing the fight just as quickly as he had, letting out a soft whimper when he started kissing and sucking your neck.
“Aem,” you breathed.
His mouth was right next to your ear,”You want me to stop?”
There was a teasing, smug tone to his voice, he knew damn well you didn’t want him to stop.
His hand moved up your hip, over your stomach to cup your breast through your shirt, thumb circling your nipple while he continued placing wet kisses all over your neck.
Your eyes closed in pure bliss. “Please,” you begged,”Touch me…under my shirt…please.”
You could feel his lips quirk up in a smile and he gave you what you asked for, pushing up your t-shirt and caressing your tits again, pinching your nipple in between his fingers while his teeth grazed your ear.”I’ve wanted to put my hands on you for so long…touch you just like this…fuck, you have no idea what you do to me…how hard you make me.”
To accentuate his words he carefully lifted his hips to push back against your ass, letting you feel his aching cock.
You squirmed in his arms.
“Shhh,” he purred,”You need to keep quiet or I have to stop, okay? Can’t let anyone see what we’re doing.”
You bit your lip and quickly nodded your head. Your hand was on his leg and you were squeezing hard while you pressed your own legs together trying to relieve some pressure.
To say you had never lusted after Aemond would be a lie. You had always found him gorgeous and intense in a very sexy way, but he was your best friend, somehow you had never allowed your mind to really go there. Until tonight, and now that you had opened that door there was no end to how much you desired him.
“Feel,” he breathed into your ear while he took your hand and placed it on his cock,”Feel how hard you make me.”
You rubbed him through his pants, making him growl into your ear. Before you could do it again he pushed your hand away and kissed your neck again.
“You’re squirming so much, little one, what is it?” he teased, an amused tone to his voice,”Is there something you need, sweetheart?”
“Yes,” you breathed and you turned your head just enough to make brief eye contact with him,”I need you to touch me, Aem.”
You didn’t need to give him anymore details, he knew exactly what you meant.
“Can you be quiet for me?” Aemond checked, his tone serious.
“Hmm,” you confirmed.
He placed a soft kiss on your jaw while his hand moved down to your hip and then your inner thigh.”Spread your legs for me,” he whispered in your ear while placing your leg over his, spreading you open for him. You moved with him so easily and eagerly he cursed himself for not having done this sooner.
He caressed your hair and then placed his hand in the back of your neck, massaging softly and pulling your shirt down so he could kiss more of your shoulders and your back.
“Aem,” your voice was shaking,”Please…please.”
You had never begged so much in your life and every single one of your pleas was music to Aemond’s ears.
“Shhh, I got you,” he whispered, carefully untying your shorts and then slipping his hand underneath, teasing you by dragging his fingers over your panties,”Fuck, these are soaked right through. You are so wet, sweetheart.”
You couldn’t help but whimper at his words and Aemond grabbed your chin with his thumb, making you look back into his eye,”You really need it, don't you, sweetheart? Is that why you’re dripping all over my hand, hmm? You want it that bad?”
You nodded and bit your lip,”I want you that bad.”
His cock stirred at your words and the feel of your hot, wet pussy under his hand was becoming too much. Fuck it, he should just drag you to his bedroom right now and fuck you into his mattress, give into what he'd been craving for so long now. But he also wanted to save that part for later, when all your friends had gone home and he could have you all to himself, take his time to really worship you the way he always dreamed of.
This right here, teasing you and feeling your body burn up under his touch, was turning him on beyond reason and it would have to be enough for now.
His breath was hot and heavy in your ear,”You want me to touch you?”
“Yes,” you breathed.
He gently pulled your hair back, placing his lips on your ear as he whispered,”You want me to push your panties to the side and finger you right here, with all of our friends in the room? Would you like that, my sweet dirty girl?”
All you managed was a quiet moan in the back of your throat but it was enough confirmation for Aemond to continue.
“God, you’re such a bad girl,” he purred, licking the spot right below your ear,”You’ll be quiet for me, yeah? Otherwise I can’t continue, okay, baby?”
“I’ll be quiet,” you nodded,”I promise.”
You were lying, you couldn’t promise him a damn thing and you were pretty sure he knew that but both of you were too far gone to stop now. He could suggest fucking you right here with all of your friends as witnesses and you would probably still say yes, that’s how badly you needed him.
Aemond carefully pulled down your shorts and then pushed your panties aside. His long delicate fingers teasing your clit, circling it slowly and spreading your wetness all over your folds.
You bit your lip to keep your moans quiet.
“Good girl,” Aemond praised,”Good fucking girl…lean back against me.”
Your head fell back onto his shoulder and Aemond caressed your hair, nuzzling your neck and your cheek, his other hand still rubbing perfect circles over your most sensitive spot. He continued until he noticed you started breathing harder and faster, your nails digging into his thigh, your orgasm within reach.
His finger moved to tease your entrance and you were no longer able to hold back the quiet little moans escaping your lips. You wanted to beg and scream but you also didn’t want to make a single sound and be so good for him. Aemond didn’t stop, pushing his long delicate finger into your fluttering walls and the both of you gasped for air for a moment.
“Fuck,” he breathed,”Oh god, you’re so tight…so warm….and so fucking wet for me…fuck, baby, I can’t wait for you to take my cock.”
You moaned at his words and he was quick to cover your mouth with his free hand.
“Shhh shhh,” he insisted but he didn’t pull back, instead he added another finger and then just held them there without moving,”You can’t do that, sweetheart, they’ll hear us. Be a good girl for me, okay?”
You nodded quickly, desperate for him to move his fingers again.
“Here, bite my thumb,” he suggested, letting his finger brush over your lips. You were quick to take him into your mouth, sucking slowly and dragging your tongue all over it.
Aemond instantly regretted his choice because now he was the one losing control again. The feel of your hot, wet mouth on him went straight to his cock and the thought of that mouth swallowing him whole was enough to almost set him off.
“Slow down,” he begged,”Please, baby, slow down…fuck, you’re gonna make me cum in my pants like some horny teenager if you keep doing that.”
You looked up at him with feigned innocence while you sucked harder, keeping your eyes on him.
“Stop!” he pulled his thumb from your mouth and you couldn’t help but smirk this time.
“Aemond, you have to be quiet,” you teased.
Aemond’s hand moved to your neck, not choking you but holding you still while he started fucking you with his fingers, taking back control.
“Fuck,” you breathed.
“Maybe I should just keep teasing you, hmm?” he grunted in your ear,”Bad girls don’t get to cum and that…was very bad of you.”
He kept fucking you with his two fingers, curling them just right but as soon as he hit the sweet spot he pulled back.
“No, no please, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, Aem.”
He added pressure around your throat and started kissing your shoulder again, soft sweet kisses turned rough and he sucked your skin until it bruised, all while adding a third finger and fucking you faster. You were falling fast, biting down on your own hand now to stop from making too much noise.
“That’s my good girl,” he growled in your ear, while his thumb found your clit again,”I knew you could do it, sweetheart."
You were so close, your pussy clenching around him over and over, your climax was right there, all you needed was that last little…
“Cum for me, my sweet girl,” he whispered softly, teeth grazing your ear,”Come on..god, fuck you’re squeezing me so tight…shit….cum for me, baby, please. Please.”
He choked on his last word and you came hard, but not before moving your hand to his cock, rubbing him through his sweatpants until Aemond buried his face into your neck, muffling his own moan and spilling into his pants.
“Fuck, oh god you fucking little brat…fuck,” he breathed hard, wrapping both arms around you to hold you close to him. You stayed like that for a while until you turned around to be able to hug him back. Your eyes finally meeting his fully and the soft smile he greeted you with warmed your heart.
Aemond gently cupped your cheek.”Hey,” he whispered, suddenly shy again while biting down on his lip.
“Hey, you,” you smiled.
“Come here,” he leaned in to kiss your lips, slow and deep and so soft it was making your head spin again. You kissed him back with the same fire, melting into his embrace.
All those bad dates and horrible guys and you could have been doing this all along. Regret filled your senses and Aemond noticed the sudden serious expression in your eyes.
“Hey, you okay, sweetheart?” he asked softly, concerned,"Was it too much? Did you not like all the teasing?"
"No, no god that was perfect," you reassured him,"I just…wish we’d done this sooner.”
His lisp curled up into the biggest smile, warming your heart,”Me too, but we’ll make up for lost time, I promise, my sweet girl.”
He leaned in to place another soft, lingering kiss on your lips.
It was Aegon’s loud and obnoxious voice that pulled you both out of your haze:”Are you guys about done so we can get back to watching the movie now? Jesus fucking Christ, the bedrooms are right there, you couldn’t have done that in there or waited until the movie was over? Fucking horny bastards.”
“Oh god,” you buried your face against Aemond’s chest in embarrassment and he hugged you close, shielding you from the others and giving his brother the finger but also unable to keep the happy grin off his face.
Then he did what Aegon suggested, grabbing your hand and pulling you with him towards his bedroom, under loud cheers from most of your friends.
Aemond turned around one last time to wink at Aegon,”Better turn up that volume cause we're not going to be quiet this time.”
He closed the door behind him just in time to dodge the pillow Aegon threw at him.
"Fall From Grace" - Demon!Aemond Targaryen x Angel!Reader
Summary: The prince of demons does his best to seduce you, an angel.
TW: profanity, innuendo, she/her pronouns, afab reader, corruption kink, religious imagery, oral f receiving, monster fucking, p in v sex
Word Count: 2,000 words
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of the Dragon/Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.
Comments, likes, and reblogs are never required but are immensely appreciated ❤️
The sky is dark when you reach the Red Keep, your robes and hair drenched from the rain you’ve traveled through to get to your destination. Perhaps one of celestial brethren would have been better equipped for the task at hand, to strike a bargain with the Stranger himself, but it is you that the duty has fallen to. You approach the demon standing at the gates, trying to exude confidence in yourself as you walk, holding your head high, but the dark creature seems to see through you.
Perhaps ‘dark creature’ is not an accurate explanation for the man standing before you. Were it not for the color of his wings being a hauntingly beautiful ebony black, you would think him an angel. He has long silvery hair, angular features, and one blue eye that pierces through to your soul, the other being made of sapphire. You immediately know who this is. The demon prince, Aemond Targaryen, second in command to his brother Aegon, both of whom serve the dark and mysterious Stranger.
You take a deep breath and gaze up at him, “I am here with a message for the Stranger.”
His single blue eye moves along your body in a way that makes you feel as though your robes are transparent, that he can see through you. Aemond tilts his head, giving you a dark, knowing smirk.
“What is the message then, little angel?”
“I cannot give it to you,” you declare, “Only to the Stranger.”
Aemond’s eye narrows and he takes a step closer to you, “I could make you tell me,” he says, a slight growl in his voice, “You do not seem to realize just who it is that you are speaking to.”
“You cannot harm me,” you say coolly, though there is a slight tremble to your voice, “I am of the light, you are of the dark. Your powers cannot touch me.”
“The light,” Aemond repeats, a grin spreading across his face as he brushes the back of his hand along your cheek, “I could corrupt it if I wanted to.”
His words send a chill up your spine, but you remain insistent, “The message is important. Please take me to the Stranger.”
The demon lets out a sigh, twirling a lock of your hair between his long, graceful fingers, “Very well. Follow me.”
The corridor he leads you down is dark and foreboding, causing you to cling to his arm as you walk. The demons stare at you, hunger in their gaze, wanting nothing more than to devour a pretty young angel. Aemond looks at you, amused, and takes your hand in his, the feel of it bringing a sense of comfort to you that you do not quite understand. He chuckles at your frightened expression.
“You are scared of my brethren,” he murmurs, leaning in to whisper in your ear, his breath tickling your skin, “Are you afraid of me too?”
You shake your head, meeting his gaze, “If you meant me harm, I would know it.”
“You are too naive for your own good, sweet angel,” he says derisively, “I could kill you without a second thought if I so wished.”
“But you will not. You do not.”
Aemond holds your chin between his thumb and forefinger, that cold blue eye boring into yours with an intensity that makes your stomach turn. You swallow thickly and hold his gaze, doing your best not to shiver when he moves his thumb over your plump lower lip, pressing down slightly. He nods after a moment.
“You are right. I won’t.”
He moves his free hand to grab yours, bringing it to his lips and pressing a kiss to the inside of your wrist, soft and intimate. It makes the heat rise to your cheeks, the hairs on the back of your neck standing on end at the intimacy of his touch, at the familiarity, at the downright sinful feelings it awakens within you.
“What was your sin that caused your fall?” you ask curiously as the two of you keep walking.
He seems surprised by your question, stopping in his tracks, “How did you know I was ever an angel?” Aemond cocks his head to the side, “To answer your question, it was pride and wrath.”
“I can tell by your aura,” you explain, “It is my skill, you see. I can see the darkness and the light in people. And the way they war against each other.”
“And do you see conflict within me now?” Aemond questions, his voice low and seductive, “I was an angel once. It is that good and light side of me who is drawn to you, to your kind nature, your sweetness. But the demon inside of me, the other half of me, hungers for you. Wishes to consume you, corrupt you, make you mine.”
Your breath catches in your throat, but you manage to mumble, “I see the conflict, yes.”
“And does it frighten you?” Aemond whispers.
“No,” you reply, your voice soft and measured, “I do not fear you.”
“And why is that, sweet angel?”
“I can see the light within your heart,” you explain calmly, “That you mean me no harm.”
“That is not necessarily true, sweet angel,” he says, voice heavy with desire, the tension between you so thick it threatens to suffocate you, “The dark in me is just as powerful as the light. And the darkness demands that I hold you, kiss you, bring you enough pleasure to make you scream,” he looks at you, nipping your earlobe, “And it is not willing to share you with anyone.
“But do you wish to harm me?” you ask, “I do not believe you do.”
You gasp quietly when Aemond’s hands move to your waist, pulling you up against him, his mouth hovering over yours as he speaks, “I wish to consume you, sweet angel, body and soul. I want you so deeply it consumes me. But the light in my heart, the angel that I was, bids me to protect you.”
You can feel your resolve weakening and try to remind him, “I must speak to the Stranger. It is a matter of great urgency.”
He continues staring at you, desperation in his remaining eye as he leans in ever closer to you, “Would you grant this wretched demon one kiss from those sweet lips before he takes you to his master?”
One kiss… It sounds innocuous enough. Humoring this poor demon would surely be seen as sympathy for a damned soul, nothing to punish you for. And his eye is so earnest in wanting you, his voice so true. Can one kiss really hurt?
“One kiss,” you agree, gazing up at him, “And you will take me to your master?”
“I will.”
And he leans in, pressing his lips against yours, hands on your waist, pressing his body up against you. His touch, his kiss - it is passionate and possessive and so very thrilling as his hand tangles in your hair, tugging lightly. You whimper against his lips, kissing him back, his tongue snaking into your mouth and massaging yours. Aemond lets out a low moan, his large hands moving over your rear, squeezing the flesh there, feeling you.
The two of you pull apart after what feels like hours but is really more like minutes., and you whisper, “Please take me to the Stranger.”
You exit the grand audience chamber after speaking with the Stranger, a smile on your face, which surprises Aemond. None of the other angels who have met his master before have come out looking so pleased. He approaches you, a wry smile on his face.
“How did your meeting go?”
“The Stranger granted my plea,” you say, “My work is done.”
Aemond reaches a hand out to touch your face, reveling in the feeling of your soft cheek against his hand, “You are beautiful.”
You avoid his heady gaze and whisper, “Please do not do this to me.”
“Do what?” he asks, feigning innocence, “I thought you do not fear me.”
“It is not you that I fear but what I feel when I look at you,” you reply, your words thrilling him, letting him know his efforts have not been in vain, “When I see you… I want you as a being of light is not meant to want anyone. We are meant to remain chaste, but you… You have awoken something inside of me. It is why I must leave and never see you again.”
Aemond shakes his head vehemently, “No. Do not leave. Your desires are nothing to fear, sweet angel. Indulge them,” he says, his lips nearly brushing against your own as he breathes, “Indulge me.”
“I can’t,” you shake your head, voice growing weak as you close your eyes, pained at the thought of rejecting him, “I…”
“You can,” he urges, pressing his lips to your neck, caressing your skin with his kiss, “Give in to me. You have come to terms with your desires, your wants, but you have not embraced them,” Aemond nibbles at your sensitive skin, chuckling lowly at the soft moan you let out, “You want to fall, so fall. I will catch you and make you mine.”
And with those words, you succumb to the darkness, to him. You let Aemond kiss you, feel him tearing the robes from your body as you admire his wings, tracing them with your fingertips, then his horns. He’s beautiful in the darkest of ways, and you find it entirely irresistible. He presses himself against you, making quick work of his own clothes as he pins you to the wall, your naked body against his, promising that he will protect you, that he will care for you.
He hikes your thighs up over his shoulders with his inhuman strength, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to your bare cunt. You gasp, feeling the darkness within you beginning to take over as you surrender to your desires, to him. Aemond buries his tongue inside you, fucking you with it, moaning as he tastes you, kneading the soft flesh there. He gazes up at you all the while, his tongue lapping at your folds, nose pressing against your pearl, never breaking eye contact with you, the moment so intense and creating such closeness between the two of you that you can hardly stand it. Your thighs tremble as you get closer and closer to your peak, whining his name as you rest your hands on his head for balance. But just as you’re about to reach your climax, he pulls away, setting you back on your feet.
You look at him, offended and upset, while he just smirks, “I want to feel you squeezing around my cock when you peak, sweet angel.”
You gasp as he turns you around to face the mirror behind you and grabs you by the hips. You stare into his eye as it flashes between black and blue in the mirror’s reflection. With one fluid movement, he sheathes himself inside you, burying himself to the hilt in your cunt. You gasp, bracing yourself with your elbows against the mirror as he begins rolling his hips against yours at a brutal pace, one hand moving up to your neck to squeeze your throat.
“So tight around me,” he growls against your ear, “So perfect. My sweet angel.”
You can do nothing but moan his name as me moves his other hand around your front to circle your pearl while fucking into you with abandon. You watch in the mirror, mystified as your wings turn from pure white to black, horns sprouting from your own head as your descent into sin comes to completion. And yet, as you feel Aemond rutting against you, proclaiming his devotion to you in your ear as he spills himself inside you, your own end following after, you cannot bring yourself to care.
He is worth the fall from grace, no matter the price.
Summary: You know Aemond well--though he might hide his emotions from others, he cannot hide them from you.
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Just some kissing and a lot of fluff
Word Count: 1.2k
A/N: Based on a very cute anonymous request :)))
dividers by @osferthsbussy
reblogs and comments are appreciated as always.
You adored your betrothed more than words could express. Although your engagement to Prince Aemond had been a political one, after over a year of your presence in court and the subsequent months of courting, it had grown into a love match.
It was unexpected, at least in the eyes of others, but you'd known from the first time he took your hand in his, pressing his lips to your fingers, that you would fall for him.
You were right.
Your heart had belonged to him alone since that moment, and each day by his side only made you love him more.
As it turned out, he was gentle and soft-spoken, at least with you, and delighted in your touch–it soothed him, he said, and brought him back to himself when he grew too lost in his head.
By now, you knew much about him–his interests, dislikes, what made him uncomfortable. You could see through his stoicism, able to suss out when he was unhappy or under stress. To you, such things were obvious–in how he held himself and the subtle differences in the guarded emotions behind his eye, telling you how he truly felt.
Today was no exception. When you found him in the open hall in Maegor's Holdfast, overlooking the courtyard, you knew at once that something was amiss.
Aemond stands rigid, legs in a wide stance, his spine straight and stiff. His arms are tucked behind his back, hands grasping at his forearms, fingers stroking at them as if to soothe himself. If he hears you approach, he gives no indication of it, still as a statue, jaw ticcing from how hard he's clenching it.
You clear your throat softly, just loud enough to alert him of your presence and take his hands in yours where they're crossed behind his back, pressing your forehead tenderly between his shoulder blades.
“My love,” you greet him gently.
The effect you have is nearly instantaneous–his body sags and arms unfold, pulling one from you for the briefest of moments so that he might turn around to face you.
His cheeks and the tips of his ears are flushed pale pink, and his uncovered eye softens at the sight of you. The ghost of a smile fleets across his lips, and he draws you in, embracing you.
“My darling,” he murmurs into your hair. “How are you this afternoon?”
“I am well,” you hum, cheek pressed to his chest, “Though, if I may, you seem anything but. What troubles you?”
“Am I so transparent?” he sighs, pulling back from your embrace to look upon your face, though he keeps his hands on your upper arms, fingers squeezing lightly.
“No,” you assure him sweetly. “I just know you–and your moods–a bit better than some.”
His mouth twitches imperceptibly at that, and he presses a kiss to your forehead, lingering for a moment with the tip of his nose pressed to your hair, breathing in the clean scent of your soap and the oils your handmaidens massaged into your scalp–lavender, rose, rosemary.
“Princess Rhaenyra and her brood are to return to the Red Keep forthwith,” he says at last, exhaling heavily, head turned from you. “Father's health fares poorly, and the succession of Driftmark remains in question. It is hoped that the matter will be resolved before he passes.”
You were well aware, of course, of the less-than-friendly relations between the two factions of the Targaryen dynasty. Beyond the political mess that was well known to many, there was deep-rooted resentment, both toward Rhaenyra for her disregard for duty and tradition, as well as the old King Viserys’ open favoritism of her, and, more personally, toward her two eldest sons for their questionable parentage and the loss of Prince Aemond's eye.
Suffice it to say, their impending arrival was not something Aemond looked forward to with any semblance of eagerness. You squeeze his hands gently, gazing up at him with a mix of sympathy and love, leaning onto your toes to kiss his cheek.
“Will you be alright?” you ask once you’ve settled back down flat on your feet, biting back a smile at the fact that his face had grown even redder from your attention. “Or should we flee now on Vhagar, never to be seen in Westeros again?” you tease lightly, attempting to raise his spirits.
“Mm,” he grunts, pulling you flush to him, an arm around your waist, the fingers of his free hand still tangled with yours. “Running away with you does not sound like a bad idea, I must confess,” he muses.
“Perhaps we could go to Essos or continue the Lady Jaenara Belaerys’ exploration of Sothoryos and become renowned adventurers,” you suggest lightly, pressing a gentle kiss to the tip of his nose, delighting in the smile that at last begins to creep over his features in earnest. “I hear that it is a land without end–we could spend a lifetime making new discoveries.”
He allows his eye to flutter closed, pressing his forehead to yours, exhaling faintly through his nose, “I would like that.”
You stay that way for a moment, noses brushing, lips a hair's breadth away, reveling in one another’s presence.
“I love you,” your murmur after a long stretch of silence, your mouths so close to each other that your lips brush against his when you speak, nearly kissing him.
“And I love you,” he responds softly, closing the minuscule gap, warm lips slotting against yours, stealing your breath. He frees his hand from yours, burying it in your hair, trying to pull you still closer, your soft curves melting into the sharper contours of his body, the silk of your gown whispering against the leather of his tunic.
You move your hand to cup the side of his neck, thumb rubbing a soothing pattern on the corner of his jaw, tilting your head to deepen the kiss with a pleased sigh.
It was utterly indecent to kiss him in such a way, especially so publicly, but only the birds flitting about the courtyard were there to witness you now, and unless they grew a sudden ability to speak, no rumors would be spread about your lack of decorum.
He slips his tongue into your mouth cautiously, caressing yours with his own, a satisfied hum thrumming in his throat at the taste of you, and you submit to him eagerly. You feel as though you are floating, bound only to the earth by his arms wrapped so wonderfully tight around you.
When the kiss finally ends, he chases your lips, pecking them once, twice, three times, stealing them with a giddy fervor that makes you giggle, your nose wrinkling as you laugh.
“Thank you,” he murmurs after a short while, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear.
“Whatever for?”
“For loving me,” he says simply. “For knowing me. For letting me love you.”
Your heart lurches, lips curving into an affectionate smile.
“You need not thank me for such things.”
“I know.”
You stay that way for a long while, him in your arms and you in his, listening to each other breathe.
For all the complexities that came with your having been promised to the Targaryen Prince, you do not think that you would not trade the chance to be held by him–to be loved by him–for anything in the world.
Sense of duty 2 - Aemond Targaryen x female!reader
Summary: After your mother Rhaenyra learned of the secret love between you and your personal knight, Aemond, she is determined to end this relationship. But Aemond is also determined that he cannot allow this to happen.
Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader
Warnings: Smut; 18+; NSFW; Minors do not continue reading!
Author’s note: Hey you (:
After a long wait, now the second part of "Sense of Duty". I hope you like it!
To understand the events and the story, the first part should be read beforehand.
English is my second language, please forgive me if I made any mistakes (:
Word count: 5.4 k
Other stories of mine
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A heavy silence envelops the space between you, forcing you to breathe carefully. The weight of the silence is in the air, making it difficult to return your mother's gaze directly. Instead, your eyes are transfixed on Aemond. He does not notice the palpable tension, or perhaps he cleverly hides it, for he remains steadfast and fixes his gaze unwaveringly on his mother.
You want to do the same and turn your gaze forward again. Alicent's eyes are closed and this frightens you more than her usual, desperate, rather suffering look.
Your gaze flits to your mother. She looks stoic. You can't place this look. You have never been in such a situation before, never seen her look at you like that.
But suddenly she shakes her head slightly
"No," Rhaenyra simply says.
"You are not getting married," she adds.
Now you feel anger bubbling up inside you. Your gaze turns angry and you face her.
"What?" you say, trying to sound decisive.
Your original plan seems to be fading, but you can't let it.
"He took my maidenhead. I have to marry him. I am carrying his child," you say.
Your mother looks at you and then lets her gaze slide to your belly.
"Your belly is flat. It's your first child, your belly will remain flat for a while too, before anyone realises you are pregnant, you are married," she says
Your breath catches in your throat. You feel your body going numb.
"Mother! Lord Cregan will notice if I am heavily pregnant at the wedding! Getting betrothed and planning a royal wedding takes time," you say angrily.
She looks you straight in the eye again, "Then seduce him. Sleep with him before you marry," she says to you.
"After all, you could share a bed with Aemond... Even though he is actually your personal knight and you are not married," she says and her gaze goes back and forth between you and Aemond.
Your eyes grow wide and you feel sick. The thought of sleeping with another man turns your stomach. You just stare at your mother, you've never seen her so angry.
"No," Aemond suddenly chimes in. Again a silence settles over the room and Alicent, who had been keeping her eyes closed all this time, suddenly looks up.
"I am the father of this child and no cheap lord from the north will present this child as his own. This child will be born with silver hair and purple eyes," he says coolly.
"Aemond! Haven't you done enough already!" Alicent says suddenly.
Your mother's gaze is now fixed on Aemond. Again your breath catches. Your fingers gently grasp Aemond's fingers. Gently he encloses your fingers with his. Your mother is not unaware of this gentle gesture, but she does not let herself be swayed.
"We need the alliance with the North. We need the assurance that the North will not go rogue," she says. Again there is silence for some time until she continues, "This child may come into the world with the characteristics of the Targaryen family. But in this case, it will have the characteristics of y/n. Of y/n alone," she says.
"But, Aemond, you will be able to see your child. You will remain y/n's personal knight. You will continue to do your duty and protect her and the child. But she will marry someone else," your mother says to Aemond.
Tears come to your eyes. You have a lump in your throat that makes it hard to talk.
Even to breathe...
"I will send a raven to the north today. We'll invite the Starks to plan the wedding," your mother turns her gaze on you again, "Y/n. I love you. To you this decision will seem hard. But you are heir to the throne, we have duties that must be fulfilled. And you will sleep with Lord Cregan once he is here," she says, almost gently.
It seems contradictory to you how gently she sounds, yet what words leave her mouth.
You look to the side. Tears threaten to flow from your eyes and you feel yourself being overcome by nausea.
Before anyone can say anything, you storm out of the council chambers. Despite your mothers' protests, Aemond storms after you.
His voice echoes, pleading your name again and again, but you do not hear it. Lost in the whirlpool of your own racing thoughts, you press forward, desperate to reach the comfort of your chambers. With all your might, you propel yourself forward, driven by an urgency that consumes you.
Prince Aemond lingers behind you, only a breath away, but always unable to seize you. The watchful guards you pass hesitate, torn between the need to protect you from potential harm and the possibility that your quickened pace is merely an expression of your own urgent affairs. Finally, they decide not to obstruct Aemond's path.
When you finally reach your chambers, you rush straight into the adjoining bathroom. The relentless wave of nausea will not let you go, and with an indomitable will you manage to find the sink just in time to release the contents of your stomach.
You don't know if it is because the thought of offering yourself to a man you don't want in your bed disgusts you or because you are pregnant.
Your eyes are closed and you are breathing heavily. Saliva pools in your mouth. You gasp and try to normalise your breathing.
When you hear noises behind you. You open your eyes and look slightly over your shoulder. Aemond is standing there, just looking at you. You have never seen such an expression on his face. A mixture of sadness and anger. Neither of you says anything. You look ahead again and sigh.
You wash your face with the water from a water bowl next to the sink.
You turn to Aemond and lean against the sink. He is still standing in the doorway.
"This is terrible," you say quietly. You drop your gaze to the floor.
"The most horrible scenario that could ever happen..." you continue quietly.
"We should never have made love... Never..." you say, your voice threatening to fail you as tears come to your eyes again.
But then Aemond comes rushing towards you.
"No, no, no, no..." he says softly but firmly. His hands gently cup your face.
"Don't say that. Don't even think that. Never. I'll find a solution, I promise you that. Do you hear me?" he says, kissing your forehead gently again and again.
Your eyes are closed, but you nod slightly.
Unbeknownst to you, Aemond's mind is consumed with racing thoughts. Since your meeting in the Council Chambers, where it became painfully clear to him that Rhaenyra would not allow your union, a singular determination has gripped him. He is driven to find a solution, a way to avert the impending tragedy.
Once Aemond has made sure that you have removed your tight dress and exchanged it for a comfortable nightgown, he helps you to lie down in your bed. Soon he leaves your chambers.
Lying on your side, you snuggle into the warmth of your blanket, seeking comfort. You press your face into the pillow where Aemond was still lying the previous night. When your love was still undisturbed and surrounded by a lightness.
As you bury your face deeper into the pillow, his pleasant scent permeates your senses. Tears well up in your eyes and you cry softly into the fabric, overwhelmed by a wave of emotion.
All day long you lay in your bed, untouched by the offers of food graciously handed to you by the industrious servants. Your gaze never lifted from its sombre position.
In a fleeting moment your mother entered your chambers and settled herself on the edge of the bed. With tender affection her hand caressed your head and comforted your troubled spirit. She told you that the letter had been sent to the North, and assured you that it was understood that if you wished to continue to have Aemond "by your side". Her understanding was unwavering and she assured you that disappointment had no place in her heart. Nevertheless, she stressed the importance of exercising discretion in such matters. But you did not answer her, instead a quiet sob erupted from within you.
How could she ever truly understand the anguish that raged in your soul? To have to be bound to a man for whom you harbour no affection, while you secretly harbour love for another man?
In the evening you are still alone in your chambers when servants enter. You are lying on your back, your tears have long since dried on your face. You look up at the ceiling. You almost didn't notice the servants, but then a voice pulls you out of your thoughts.
"Princess y/n. Prince Aemond sent us. He has instructed us to draw you a bath," the servant says to you.
You avert your gaze from the ceiling and look irritatedly at the servants. Why should you take a bath now?
But when you think about it for a moment, you suddenly find the idea very inviting.
You sit up and get out of bed. Slowly, your bare feet tread the cold floor and you go into the adjacent bathroom. The servants have already put water in the tub. You see warm steam rising into the air. Lavender oil is added to the water and the gentle scent immediately hits your nose.
You take off your nightgown as you walk towards the tub. Slowly you let yourself sink into the warm water. You close your eyes and immediately feel your tense muscles relax. You lie in the tub, trying to transfer the relaxation to your thoughts as well. Trying to push away the thoughts that keep focusing on what will be required of you in the future.
You open your eyes, slightly annoyed, as you realise that your thoughts cannot be calmed. You look down at your body, which is enveloped by the warm water. You see the faint marks on your thigh that remind you of the way Aemond had grabbed you just a day before... Loved you. You don't want another man's marks left there.
As the water gets cooler, you get up from the tub. You take a towel that the servants have placed next to the tub and dry yourself. You go back to your bedroom. But you stop as you walk towards your bed and see that there is a dress lying there. You look a little irritated. There is a note on it.
"Wear this. I'll come and see you later. A."
You look a little irritated and turn the note around, but there is nothing else written on it.
Why is Aemond asking you to wear a special dress?
You look at the dress and let your fingers wander over the fabric of the dress. The light silk fabric feels soft but sturdy. It is black, with red appliqués. It shimmers slightly. It is a beautiful dress.
So you dry off and put the dress on. Just as you are combing your hair, Aemond comes into your chambers.
You look at him and you can't help but smile as he stands in your chambers. Almost completely, the heaviness in your chest disappears.
He looks serious. But when he sees your smile, he can't help it and returns your smile. Slowly he comes towards you.
"You look beautiful," he whispers, gently stroking your cheek as he stands in front of you.
You blush slightly.
"Do you have something planned for us? Why would I bathe and wear this dress?" you ask as you can no longer hold back curiosity.
"I didn't want you to smell unpleasant," he says, smiling slightly.
You look indignant, but have to laugh slightly. You lightly punch his arm.
He chuckles lightly.
"Take your warm coat and come with me," is all he says, walking to the door of your chambers.
Now you look after him, irritated.
"What?" you ask quietly.
He turns to you, "You've lain around long enough. We're going for a ride. It will take your mind off things," he says with a smile and only then do you notice that he is wearing his riding clothes.
You try to read something from his look, but you don't get a chance. So you sigh and take your coat and follow him.
The corridors are quiet and dimly lit. Aemond knows exactly which paths to choose so as not to encounter anyone. As you step out of the keep, you just look at him questioningly.
"Where are we going?" you ask him.
But he only smiles.
You quickly notice that you are getting closer to the hill of Rhaenys.
You smile, "Where are we going?" you try again. But he just smiles and shakes his head slightly. He takes your hand firmly in his. You enter the Dragonpit. Aemond walks purposefully towards the familiar corner where Vhagar lies. A deep grumble is heard as you approach the huge dragon. Aemond gently strokes the scales of her neck as he stands beside her. He leads you further to the ladder and helps you climb onto Vhagar. Not much later, as you sit in the saddle, Aemond is also sitting behind you.
"Is it safe to ride a dragon while pregnant?" you ask with a smile on your lips as you turn your face to him.
He smiles slightly, "As long as you don't fall off the dragon..." he replies to you. You chuckle lightly.
"Issa iā lyka bantis… maghagon īlva naejot Dragonstone…," he continues. (It is a quiet night... Take us to Dragonstone)
You turn your head towards him
"Dragonstone?" you ask "Are you kidnapping me?" but you have to smile slightly
"To Dragonstone? Then I would rather take you to Essos," he says softly and kisses your cheek.
You feel the huge dragon begin to rise. How the muscles start to work and Vhagar moves towards the exit. As Vhagar steps outside, you notice that the sun has given way to the moon.
Vhagar is fast in the air despite her enormous size. Lithely she glides through the air while Aemond holds you close to his body. You see the vast sea below you and the stars in the sky. You can't help but smile. The heaviness in your chest has almost completely disappeared and Aemond has actually done it, your thoughts actually let themselves be directed to something else.
As the castle and cliffs of Dragonstone become visible, you feel an unfamiliar excitement within you. The closer you get the larger and more imposing the castle seems. Vhagar heads for the green space around the castle and lands almost gently.
Aemond's hands release you and you climb down from Vhagar. You smile and look at Aemond, who descends behind you.
"Are you going to tell me what we are doing here?" you ask him with a smile.
He looks at you, "The home of our ancestors..." he says looking at you with a smile.
"I am well aware of that...", you answer him, almost cheekily.
"This is where your mother already married Daemon in a secret ceremony..," he says quietly to you and takes your hand in his.
Slowly it dawns on you.
"What...?" you whisper.
He puts his other hand on your cheek, standing close to you.
"I will not let you marry a Lord of the North. No other man will sleep with you... You are carrying our child... And no other man will claim to be the father..." he whispers to you. With each word your lips come closer until he kisses you slowly and passionately. His thumb glides gently over your cheek.
Somewhat involuntarily you interrupt the kiss, looking into each other's eyes. His hand is still on your cheek.
"Ready?" he whispers.
You nod and bite your lip lightly.
He holds out his arm to you and you take it. He leads you to the beach at Dragonstone. But as you walk along the beach, you notice that there are small torches set up to guide your way.
You look up at Aemond and smile, "Did you give the order for this?" you ask him quietly.
But he just shrugs his shoulders slightly and smiles.
You clasp his arm tighter and smile as you continue to walk along the torches.
As you approach a small hill, you see that there is a septon there.
"Unfortunately, I did not have the desired time to have a Valyrian-style wedding performed... But I think it will do for now," he whispers in your ear as you approach the septon. Tears come to your eyes, but this time they are tears of joy. You look at Aemond and smile. You just nod and gently kiss his lips.
You stand before the septon. You hear the waves crashing against the cliffs around you. But you only have eyes for Aemond. How he smiles at you gently and lovingly.
"Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger – hear now their vows," you hear the septon say.
As if of your own accord, you speak your words, "I belong to him. He is mine, from this day until the end of my days," comes from your lips as you gaze deeply into each other's eyes.
The next thing you know, you are aware only of Aemond's lips on yours. The kiss is gentle, but greedy. Aemond pulls you towards him and your lips can't seem to get enough of each other.
You hear the septon clear his throat, but neither of you pays attention. Passionately, Aemond claims your lips and eventually the Septon seems to understand and moves away.
"Aemond... let's go inside," you breathe as he slides his lips down your neck.
But he only whispers a "no" into your neck. Slowly he pushes you down into the sand.
"Aemond...," you just gasp.
A "mhm," sounds from him. You kneel in front of each other and kiss. His hand is on the back of your neck, pressing you closer to him. Your breathing gets heavier and you push him back slightly, he lowers himself onto his back and you sit astride him. Your kisses don't let up. You hear the waves crashing against the cliffs around you.
His arms wrap around your waist, he pulls you closer to him. His kisses become greedier. His hands clasp your curves, pressing you firmly against his crotch, and you clearly feel his hard arousal. You whimper slightly as he gently bites your lip.
You move your hips rhythmically against his hard length and feel your small clothes moisten further. You feel Aemond's hands on your back as he works on the laces of your dress. He opens it and slides it down your shoulders. His lips leave your lips and land on the soft skin of your shoulder. Tender kisses grace your skin. Your eyes are closed and you moan lightly as his lips glide over your cleavage. His lips cup your nipple and you bite your lip as you feel him nibble lightly.
"Aemond," you breathe.
But all you hear from him is a deep "mhm".
As he turns to your other nipple, his hands pull your dress down further. You moan softly.
Only the stars and the moon light up the sky above you, the waves crashing against the cliffs around you, as Aemond suddenly looks up at you. He is breathing slightly heavily, his lips slightly parted. You bite your lip lightly. Slowly, you take off his eyepatch and place it beside you. You gently run your thumb over his scar that adorns half his face.
"I love you," he simply whispers. A warmth spreads through you and you let your lips slide onto his. But more gently this time.
You start to open his waistcoat. You slide it down over his shoulder. Aemond takes it off and lays it in the sand next to you. Your hands are already on his shirt and open it. It doesn't take you long to slide it down over his shoulders as well. Your hands glide over his firm chest. Over every little scar. Over the finely defined muscles. Until you reach his trousers and start to open them.
You notice Aemond smiling slightly against your lips as you reach into his trousers and grasp his hard member. As you begin to stroke it, over and over, up and down, you feel a slight rumble forming in his chest as his breathing becomes heavier. You move your hand up and down faster and he moans softly.
Aemond's hands slide over your thighs, pushing your dress up further. Gently he pulls your small clothes over your thighs and you help him to take them off. He grips your thighs and you whimper slightly. His hands slide to the back of your thighs, pulling you closer to him. You understand his intention and pull his trousers down a little, exposing his cock.
You are both breathing heavily now. Aemond leans forward and captures your lips with his, his tongue slides out, licks over your lower lip before he gently plucks it with his teeth, a whimper escapes your lips. And a wild game of tongues and teeth erupts.
You position his hot length in front of your entrance, but not without letting him slide through your wet arousal first. Now you both moan out.
Slowly you lower yourself onto him.
"Fuuck... you were made to take my cock..," you hear from Aemond and he grips your thighs tighter.
You whimper just slightly. Aemond's cock pushes inch by inch deeper into you. The familiar stretching of your wet walls makes you moan. As he fills you completely you begin to move your hips rhythmically. Aemond's hands slide further up and now firmly grip your ass, trying to set a faster rhythm. You whimper again. Aemond starts thrusting into you. With each thrust he meets your movement and your clit rubs against the base of his cock.
You moan loudly and hear him grunt as he leans in and kisses your breasts.
When suddenly Aemond grabs you firmly by your hips and lays you backwards. You are now lying with your back on his legs. You look at him a little startled at first, but his gaze is fixed on your womanhood. He watches intently as he disappears into you again and again. He grunts and moans as he lets you slide onto his cock.
You moan as his thumb suddenly rests on your sensitive pearl and makes circular, firm movements on it.
He notices how you start to clench around his cock.
He makes you slam down on his cock faster and with each thrust his thumb rubs further over your clit. With each thrust, your breasts give in to the movement and bounce. When Aemond looks up for a moment, he is overwhelmed and moans.
"Aemond... Aemond...", you only whimper. But all you hear from him is another grunt. His grunts and the wet sounds made by his thrusts reach your ears. They make the inside of your thighs tremble.
And then you come. Your moans are backed by the waves around you. You grab his forearms and moan. Your eyes are closed and you are breathing heavily.
Aemond moans out as well, making you slam down on his cock a few more times before he comes with a loud groan and pumps his seed into you.
His thrusts become softer and you hear him breathing heavily. When your eyes meet, he smiles almost shyly.
"Consummated marriage for the first time... And it was almost romantic," he says softly.
You chuckle softly, "We've had many romantic times," you reply.
Only a mhm sounds from him as the corners of his mouth, pull up slightly at the thought of it.
He spreads his waistcoat and shirt out beside you. He grabs you lightly by your thighs and signals you to lie down on his clothes. You obey and lie down there. He lies down beside you and takes you in his arms. You lie there, his fingers gently gliding over your arm. Your head lies on his chest and you let your fingers glide gently over his chest. Neither of you says anything. You just enjoy the calm. The calm before the storm.
The return flight passes almost unnoticed, as if time itself were but a fleeting whisper. Were it not for the gentle caress of the cool wind enveloping your being, one might wonder if Vhagar really flew off. But such trivial considerations fade, for your mind is captivated, utterly consumed by the enchantment of the moment. For almost the entire flight, your eyes are fixed on Aemond's face. Each tender kiss on Aemond's face becomes a symphony of affection, a delicate dance of passion and tenderness. Aemond's laughter echoes softly through the air. But not once does one of your kisses go unanswered.
When you land back at King's Landing, Aemond helps you get off Vhagar. Aemond doesn't hesitate long and leads you into the Council chambers. While you are still on your way, he catches a servant and asks him to deliver the news to your mothers that you are waiting for them in the Council Chambers.
Aemond stands beside you. He gently strokes your cheek. As he kisses you, his hand finds its way to your abdomen and gently caresses it.
"It will be fine," he whispers against your lips.
When suddenly the doors open and you both look up.
"Aemond, why are we here again?", Alicent asks you as she enters the council chambers with Rhaenyra.
Rhaenyra immediately notices the closeness between you and Aemond that existed only a moment before.
"Do you want to talk about your pregnancy again? The letter has been sent, Lord Cregan is probably already on his way," your mother says to you.
You take a deep breath.
"There will be no wedding...," you say firmly, "... at least not between me and Lord Cregan"
"Y/n...", your mother says, "...we have already discussed this... you...", but you interrupt your mother
"We got married," you finally say.
There is silence. Only the sudden gasp of Alicent can be heard as she reaches for the back of the chair that is in front of her.
Your mother looks at you, "You didn't do that... You wouldn't have dared," she says almost threateningly.
Now Aemond speaks up "Yes we did. I took her to Dragonstone and married her. The gods are our witnesses," Aemond says.
"Aemond!" gasps Alicent again, "Do you realise what you have done!"
"Yes, mother! I have married the woman I love. Who carries my child!" hisses Aemond to her.
Rhaenyra regains her composure and looks at you.
"You have no idea what you have done," she says to you.
"Lord Cregan is on his way, he is expecting a betrothal... a wedding," she says to you.
"And I told you I would not marry him," you reply.
Rhaenyra shakes her head slightly and looks at you.
"Mother... I love Aemond. I carry his child within me. I will not let my child be raised by any Lord of the North.... Aemond is the father of this child and my husband," you say.
Alicent looks as if she might burst into tears at any moment. You almost feel sorry for her.
Aemond seems to notice this too.
"Mother..." he says almost gently.
"Let Lord Cregan come to the capital.... I will settle this," he says.
The turbulent aftermath, however, proves to be far more eye-catching than you had imagined.
Lord Cregan's journey from Winterfell to King's Landing spanned several weeks. Unfortunately, it quickly became apparent that this period of time provided ample opportunity to spread the news of your sacred union with Aemond far and wide. Like a whisper carried on the wind, the news passed from one mouth to another of the common people and aroused a curiosity. At the same time, an enigmatic tapestry of rumours unfolds, weaving a compelling tale of the purpose and motives that led to your secret marriage.
Why would a Targaryen princess, heir to the throne, rush to marry her uncle? Is she possibly pregnant?
Aemond's tireless efforts to debunk these rumours prove futile time and again. Each time he tries to trace their origins, he finds that he is mistaken and unable to locate the true source.
Thus the veil of rumour envelops your young happiness and suggests that you have already given in to carnal temptations before your sacred union.
The highlight of the story, though, is the arrival of Lord Cregan, who attracts great attention with his presence. As he walks the hallowed halls of the mighty red keep, his every step is accompanied by hushed murmurs.
But before he can converse with a member of the royal family, Lord Cregan, driven by curiosity, turns his attention to a simple servant. At that moment, the truth is thrust before him like a bitter potion – the arduous journey was in vain. The prospect of uniting with the Heiress of the Iron Throne, the object of his desire, is dashed. He learns that you are already married to Prince Aemond.
A tempestuous storm brews within Lord Cregan, the fires of anger and betrayal threaten to consume him. In a near frenzy, he urgently demands that the servant lead him to Princess Rhaenyra. The obedient servants escort him to the opulent council chambers, the scene of momentous decisions and momentous encounters.
When you hear that Lord Cregan has arrived, you become nervous. You immediately go to the council chambers. As the doors are opened for you, you hear a loud discussion. Lord Cregan is standing in front of Aemond and your mother. Alicent stands a little apart.
"I should marry the Heiress of the Iron Throne!" says Lord Cregan angrily. Rhaenrya nods at him.
When Lord Cregan hears the door and averts his gaze from your mother, he sees you.
His gaze becomes almost gentle until he sees the slight bulge under your dress.
His gaze falls on your mother again, "She had to marry him? Right?" he asks her.
Aemond's gaze, standing next to your mother, darkens.
"Because she's a whore and led her uncle to bed," Lord Cregan says, looking at Aemond.
Your gasp is accompanied by the sound of Alicent slapping her hand over her mouth.
The look Aemond gives Lord Cregan makes you shiver. And before you can even react, you hear a blade being drawn.
"Say this again and it will be the last thing you say," Aemond hisses as he presses the blade into Lord Cregan's neck.
"Aemond!" shouts Alicent.
"Aemond put the blade down," Rhaenyra tries to say calmly.
"Do it, Prince Aemond! Instigate a war with the North!" says Lord Cregan almost promptingly.
Aemond's eyes dart to you for a second. But that second is enough to signal him not to do it. You are paralysed, but you shake your head, barely perceptibly.
"Aemond, control yourself!" says Alicent, trying again to get his attention.
"She's not a whore! She is my wife!" hisses Aemond.
"I know Aemond... Please... Don't do anything rash," Alicent says, gently grabbing his arm.
Aemond reluctantly lowers his blade.
He looks furious, not letting Lord Cregan out of his sight, but he takes a step back.
Alicent steps towards Lord Cregan, who is also seething with rage.
"Lord Cregan, if you are still interested, I would like to discuss something with you that I have been talking about with Princess Rhaenyra," Alicent says to Lord Cregan. Lord Cregan averts his gaze from Aemond and looks at Alicent.
"What are you going to recite now? I should marry the Heiress to the Iron Throne," he asks her, still angry.
Aemond comes over to you and gently grabs your arm. He leads you to the door. You stare at him as he leads you. He is still angry, but you notice that he is slowly becoming calmer.
"I likewise have a beautiful daughter who is still looking for an honourable husband..." you hear Alicent say to Lord Cregan as Aemond leads you out of the council chambers.
Your eyes fall on Aemond as the door slams shut behind you.
"Helaena is to marry Lord Cregan?" you ask.
Aemond nods curtly.
"He will have his Targaryen princess, and the North remains our ally," he says to you. You are speechless, but you nod briefly. Aemond's gaze meets yours. He smiles slightly and leans down. Gently he encloses your lips with his.
"And you will remain my princess... my wife," he says softly.
"Your princess… whom you must continue to protect, dutiful as you are," you say softly. You hear him chuckle slightly.
summary: The end of the fall semester is a week away! One game left before winter break, and you decide to send Aegon a message.
rating: 18+ (detailed warning below the cut)
previous chapter ~ Ch. 7: Superstitious ~ next chapter
warnings: p in v, choking, thigh riding, angst, spanking, hair pulling, language
note: hope you enjoy this chapter! don't hate me too much for the angst you know I can't help myself!!
dividers by @firefly-graphics
“I have to go home,” Helaena tells you, dropping her bag and joining you and Sara on the blanket you’ve laid out on the quad.
Sara lowers her sunglasses. The days have turned significantly colder with the end of the semester looming, but today the sun had decided to show itself, leading to many students skipping their afternoon classes to sunbathe on the quad.
“What are you talking about?” Sara asks, eyebrows furrowing together with confusion.
“There’s still a week left before winter break!” you exclaim, motioning to the books you held in your lap.
Finals season. Finals season was killer.
Aegon had passed his midterms. He’d sent you an appreciative text that sent you spiraling and then hadn’t texted you since. It had been a couple of weeks. You were sure he’d reach out, especially after his annoyance at you avoiding him.
But he hadn’t.
You wished it wasn’t eating away at you, but it was. Even when you hung out with Cregan, went on several more dates to dinner, the movies, and ice cream. Your mind constantly wandered back to Aegon.
Bastard.
“My dad’s getting worse,” Helaena admitted, crossing her legs as she sat.
You and Sara exchanged a pained glance. You knew Helaena’s father wasn’t doing well, his health had been steadily declining the past few years. He seemed to be pretty stable the past year, Helaena hadn’t shared any updates.
Aegon hadn’t shared anything with you.
Not that he needed to. What were you even? Friends? Classmates? Lovers? You cringed internally at the thought.
“I wanted to stay for Egg’s last game before winter break,” Helaena said, shaking her head,
“But..I don’t know. I just have a feeling.”
“What kind of feeling?” Sara probed.
Helaena pursed her lips, eyebrows knitting together. She looked past you and Sara as though seeing something far away that the both of you could not see.
“Just like…it may be sooner than I thought,” she tells you both, “and I want to be able to say goodbye.”
“What about Aegon?” you blurt out, unable to stop yourself.
Helaena glances at you, but there’s no suspicion in her eyes even as she takes in the blush blooming on your cheeks.
“He’s in the family group chat,” she tells you, “He sees Mom’s texts. I can’t corral all my brothers, they can come if they want to.”
You nod, pulling your eyes away from her gaze.
“Has he mentioned something?” she asks.
“What?” you answer, “To me? Why would he mention something to me?”
Sara grimaces at the defensiveness of your tone. You can feel sweat beading on the back of your neck.
“You’re his tutor, aren’t you?” she questions.
“We sort of stopped that.”
“Oh,” Helaena says, picking at a loose thread on her jeans, “That’s a shame.”
“Is it?” you ask, “Aegon wasn’t super serious.”
“He was really proud of his midterm, look,” Helaena says grabbing her phone.
She turns the screen to you and you’re greeted by a selfie of Aegon holding the blue test packet up next to his grinning face. His eyes are crinkled with how hard he’s smiling, and his finger points to the B- written in red on the top corner. You can’t stop the smile that tugs at the corner of your lips or the way your heart begins to beat furiously in your chest as you stare at Helaena’s phone.
“He worked really hard,” you tell Helaena, “But my tutoring days are over.”
“Maybe Lydia will help him,” Helaena muses, swiping through her notifications.
You tilt your head, curiosity gnawing at your insides.
“Lydia?” you ask, trying to keep your tone neutral.
Sara flicks her gaze toward you, raising an eyebrow. Helaena hums, still scrolling through her phone. Sara bites her lip, fighting a laugh before making a curious face.
“Are they dating, Hel?” Sara asks, and you widen your eyes at her.
Sara merely shrugs.
“Um, well Egg doesn’t really date, but they’ve been spending a lot of time together since formal,” Helaena tells her, finally glancing up from her phone, “Why do you ask?”
“I’m curious about all the hot men on campus,” Sara says, smiling.
“Gross,” Helaena answers, “Shouldn’t you only be concerned about Jace?”
“I’m very concerned about Jace,” Sara says, placing a hand over her heart, “Concerned about his gorgeous, thick, co-”
“Enough!” Helaena interrupts, covering her ears.
Sara snickers and you rise from the blanket, gathering your things.
“Where are you going?” Sara asks, watching you pack your bag.
“Class.”
You head out, leaving your friends on the quad without saying another word, stomach churning at the thought of Aegon and Lydia.
You don’t see Aegon as you’re sitting with Sara in the bleachers before the game. Both of you are clad in Cregan and Jace’s jerseys.
It’s tradition, the last game before winter break, the end of the first half of the season.
“You’re dating the goalie, you wear his jersey,” Brandon Karstark had told you.
“Silly superstition,” Arryx argued.
“It’s not like she’s his girlfriend,” Reese Bolton had said.
It was true. You and Cregan had been on several dates and made out in his car, but you hadn’t gone any further. In any way.
“Doesn’t matter,” John Umber told his friend, “She still has to wear it.”
I see you at another game in his jersey, I’m fucking you in it.
When the team comes onto the ice, the crowd roars, the sound of cheers almost deafening. You watch the team do a lap around the ice, Cregan sparing you a wave, and the flash of a smile, Jace close on his tail. You spot Aegon, he’s hard to miss, at least to you.
I see you at another game in his jersey, I’m fucking you in it.
His threat lingers in your mind, sending an ache between your thighs. When he looks up at the stands, his violet eyes meet yours. You cross your arms over your chest, trying to make sure your face doesn’t give away any of the mixed emotions you’re feeling.
Aegon drags his eyes down your face to your chest, drinking in the outfit you’re wearing. You dressed it up, the jersey falling right to the middle of your thighs completely covering the biker shorts you paired underneath. Fishnet tights decorate the rest of your legs and Aegon’s gaze hungrily follows the pattern down to your ankles.
As he brings his eyes back up to meet yours, you can feel your cheeks burning. Aegon grins, showing all his perfect, pearly white teeth, cocking his head to the side. No words are exchanged between you, but you understand what that look conveys.
You fucked around, you’re about to find out.
Naturally, after the team wins they head to the hockey house. You’d hoped to cling to Cregan at the party to avoid Aegon, but your plan came crashing down in the last five minutes of the game. A fight broke out on the ice leading to a broken nose and Cregan headed to the ER.
He insisted you not wait around for him.
“These things take hours,” he told you, voice muffled from the soaked rag pressed against his face, “Seriously, not the first time not the last. Don’t waste your night in the ER.”
So you ended up clinging to Sara instead, effectively cockblocking your best friend to her dismay.
“Where are you going?” you ask Sara, as she heads upstairs.
“I’m just running to Jace’s room, will you chill?” she tells you, “Aegon is nowhere to be found. You’re good.”
“Sara,” you begin, but trail off.
What are you supposed to say? Aegon threatened to fuck you, and you went and poked the bear?
“Relax,” Sara tells you, “I’m going to grab my coat, grab Jace, and then we can go back to the apartment.”
“Promise?” you ask.
“Give me five minutes,” she says and disappears upstairs.
Five minutes go by.
Then ten.
Then fifteen.
You text her several times. Nothing.
“This fucking whore,” you mutter, heading up the stairs.
You’re not sure which room is Jace’s. Last time you were in the hockey house you were wasted before you passed out in Aegon’s bed. You try the first door. Locked. You bang on it for a moment, hearing only giggles, none of which sound like Sara. You move down the hall.
An empty room, a bathroom, two girls who throw a shoe at you when you interrupt their rendezvous. And then a silver-haired boy, sat on a small couch next to his bed, violet eyes meeting yours when you open the door.
Aegon.
Shit.
“Hey bunny,” he says casually, closing the book on his lap, and tossing it onto a side table.
He leans back, arms spread over the back of the couch. He’s freshly showered, hair still slick with water, droplets falling onto the white t-shirt he wears. He grins at you, eyes falling to Cregan’s jersey you’re still wearing.
“I’m looking for Sara,” you tell him, going to close the door.
“Funny you should say that,” he says, standing suddenly.
You frown, trying to avoid glancing down, instead focusing on the dark black of his pupils.
“Why?” you ask.
Aegon walks toward you, slowly, like a lion stalking its prey. He makes his way in front of you, reaching behind you and pressing the door shut. He’s so close you can feel his breath on your cheek, feel the warmth from his chest.
“I think she’s preoccupied,” he tells you, grimacing.
“Do you and Jace have telepathically communicate?” you ask, frustrated, “Seriously? Why is he so okay with your scheming?”
“He’s my bro,” Aegon says, feigning offense.
You roll your eyes.
“Where are they?” you ask.
“Don’t interrupt their fuc-”
“I don’t care if he’s balls deep Egg!” you say loudly, “Where are they?”
“Your apartment, jeez,” he says, laughing at the groan you release, “They left out the back.”
“I’m going to kill her,” you tell him.
“Don’t be mad, bunny,” he says, reaching for your hand.
Aegon laces his fingers through yours, watching them for a moment before bringing his eyes back to your face.
“Don’t look at me like that,” you tell him, but you don’t pull your hand away.
“Like what?” he asks, swaying slightly.
“Like you’re going to fuck me,” you tell him, “Not happening.”
Aegon sinks his teeth into his lower lip.
“If you didn’t want me to fuck you,” he begins, “Why did you wear that?”
Your face flushes as he motions to the jersey.
“I was very clear,” he tells you, “And you’re a very smart girl.”
You swallow as he brings his hand to the collar of the jersey, rubbing the material between the pads of his fingers.
“You just trying to be a tease, bunny?” Aegon asks, eyes roaming down your figure, “Cause you look fucking amazing. You know how hard I was on the ice?”
Your breathing has turned shallow, coming out in short pants.
“You wanna feel how hard you make me?” he asks softly, bringing your hand to his crotch.
You can feel him, hard and wanting, straining against the jeans he’s wearing. Your lips part slightly as he rocks his hips against your hand.
“You want to go?” Aegon asks, “This is your chance.”
He rocks against you again, pressing himself against your hand. You can already feel the heat pooling between your thighs, the dull ache beginning. You stare at him and swallow the lump forming in your throat.
“I don’t want to go,” you breathe and Aegon smiles.
He looks up at you as he begins to sink to his knees. He places a kiss on your stomach, down the tops of your thighs, on your knees, before parting your legs. He drags down your biker shorts, throwing them to a corner of his room.
“I’m going to tear these off with my fucking teeth,” Aegon murmurs, mouthing the fabric of your fishnets, swirling his tongue along the smooth skin of your inner thighs.
You squirm against his mouth as he presses a kiss to your barely clothed core. You grab a fistful of his hair, yanking him away from you suddenly. Aegon looks up at you, the picture of perfection, an angel on his knees for you.
“Get up,” you tell him, and he moves to his feet, his hands never leaving your thighs, traveling over the swell of your hips, up your ribs.
You move his hands off of you, pushing a hand against his chest to push him down onto the couch. He sits, head tilted back watching you as you straddle his lap. Aegon wraps his hands around your waist and you remove them once more.
“No,” you tell him, holding his hands above his head.
You know you must be blushing furiously, you’ve never been this domineering in bed before. Aegon looks up at you as you grind yourself against him, feeling him grow harder beneath you. His jaw is slack, violet eyes are blown black with lust, never leaving your face with every roll of your hips.
You tilt your head to the side. Fake it till you make it, that’s what Sara says. Pretend you’re confident.
“Why should you get to touch me?” you taunt, wetting your lips.
Aegon’s eyes widen slightly, surprised by your sudden dominance. He smirks, a small laugh leaving his perfect lips.
“Oh, you’re so gonna get it,” Aegon says softly, fire in his violet eyes.
He doesn’t stop you though, doesn’t twist his wrists from your grasp.
“No, I don’t think so,” you tell him, “I don’t share with anyone. Got it?”
“There’s no one else,” Aegon answers immediately, “No one but you.”
You tilt your head to the side, a smirk sliding onto your face.
“You’d lie to my face?” you tease, “I know you’ve been seeing Lydia, Hel told me.”
“I’m not seeing Lydia,” Aegon tells you, “Well, I’m not anymore.”
You narrow your eyes at him.
“What about you, hypocrite?” Aegon asks, tilting his chin up at you, “Still walking Cregan like a dog, I see.”
Then he tugs his wrists free, snaking a hand around the back of your neck, pulling you closer so his lips ghost the shell of your ear.
“He fuck you like I do?” he murmurs, pressing a hot kiss below your ear.
Your eyes flutter shut as his free hand moves to grab your ass.
“He make you cum as hard as I do?” he asks, kissing a trail down your neck.
You wet your lips, fingers tangling in his hair pulling him closer.
“Yeah, he does,” you breathe and you can feel Aegon smile against you.
“Fucking dirty little liar,” he says, pressing your lips against his.
The kiss is hungry and desperate; Aegon’s hand holds your neck so you couldn’t move away even if you wanted to. Not that you want to. When Aegon kisses you, you want him to consume you completely.
He slips you almost completely off his lap, so you’re straddling his thigh. Your eyes widen as he presses you down against him.
“C’mon ride it,” he tells you, “I know you know how.”
You meet his eyes and he grins. He fucking knew. Of course, he did.
You roll your hips against him, just like that first night at the hockey house. His hands cup your ass, squeezing and kneading the soft flesh as you grind against him.
“Just like that, there’s my good girl,” he purrs, dragging a hand up your back.
You whimper as he wraps his hand around your throat, squeezing just enough for your air supply to be deliciously depleted. The friction is perfect as his jean-clad thigh presses against your warm center, every roll of your hips sending sparks of pleasure dancing throughout your body.
“You gonna cum? Or do you need an audience like last time?” he teases, referencing the party.
“Fuuuck,” you choke, as Aegon tightens his grip and your curse turns into a high-pitched keen as your orgasm floods through you.
Aegon releases your throat, picking you up and standing, moving to throw you on the bed. He roughly turns you onto your hands and knees. You push onto your forearms as Aegon’s hands move near your center, tearing through the fabric of your fishnets.
“I liked those!” you hiss, feeling him move the lace of your thong out of the way.
You hear him chuckle darkly, hear the zipper of his pants and feel the tip of his fat cock sliding through your slick folds.
“You’ll like this more,” he tells you, “Promise, bunny.”
Then he’s sinking into you and every witty retort you can think of slips from your head. Aegon rocks his hips against yours and your hands clutch the comforter seeking purchase. You grit your teeth, trying to not give him the satisfaction of a moan.
“Oooh, you are mad at me, huh?” Aegon teases, delivering a harsh thrust.
You bite the inside of your cheek, falling from your forearms, cheek pressing against the bed as Aegon continues to pound into you, bringing a hand down to slap your ass. The mark stings and Aegon rubs his hand over it before delivering another blow.
A whimper escapes your lips when he angles his hips just right, the head of his cock bullying into your sweet spot. Your eyes nearly roll back into your head when he leans forward, focusing on the spot he’s located.
“C’mon tell me how good it feels,” Aegon says, snapping his hips.
He brings his hand to the back of your head, pulling you up by your hair.
“Tell me,” he whispers in your ear.
“Fuck,” you moan, unable to help yourself.
“Touch that pretty little clit, right now,” he demands, and you bring your hand between your legs.
You rub nice slow circles around your aching clit, fingertips brushing against Aegon’s cock each time it slides in and out.
“There’s my good girl,” Aegon croons, “Even when she’s mad she listens so well.”
Gods there’s something about his voice, something about the way he talks you through it, it has your back arching, moans and whines spilling from your lips as you’re thrown over the edge once more, cunt spasming around his cock.
Aegon slows his thrusts as you cum, still painfully erect as he pulls out, tapping the side of your ass. You turn around, laying on your back, panting as you look up at him.
He holds his tongue between his teeth, eyes falling to your chest.
“Take that fucking thing off,” he tells you and you move the jersey over your head.
“And that,” he says motioning to your bra.
That lands on the floor as well, leaving you in your ruined fishnets and thong. Aegon climbs on top of you, dragging his mouth across your breasts, stopping to roll your nipples between his teeth and tug on them harshly.
He continues to worship your body with his mouth before he slides himself back into your warm, tight center. You lock your legs around his waist, raising your hips to meet his thrusts.
“Do I fuck better than him?” Aegon asks, “Tell me.”
You meet his eyes then, and you know your facade has faded. Aegon smiles then, showing all his teeth.
“You haven’t even fucked him, have you?” Aegon asks.
You don’t answer, trying to capture his lips in a kiss. Aegon turns his head from your needy lips.
“You are my good girl,” Aegon tells you, sending fire pooling in your belly.
“Yes,” you whimper, “Yes, I am.”
Aegon kisses you then as a reward, slow and sensual as he thrusts deeply into you. He’s so deep inside you, your denials from earlier spill past your lips.
“You fuck me so well,” you whimper, “No one could fuck me like you.”
You know you might regret the confession, but you can’t find it in you to care at the moment.
“I know baby, love fucking you,” he murmurs against your mouth, “God this pussy, fucking made for me.”
“Fuck yes yes right there-!” you whine as he presses himself into you.
Tears blur your vision as your legs begin to tremble with the promise of your third release.
“Oh god, oh fuck-” you squeak as your third orgasm rips through you, Aegon never slowing his merciless pace all the while.
“So fucking good,” Aegon moans as your pussy clenches, milking his cock until you feel him twitching inside you, the warmth of his release painting your inner walls.
He kisses you slowly and passionately, with his cock still nestled deep inside of you. As he pulls out of your warmth he keeps his arms around you, dragging you to lay across his chest. Your breathing returns to normal, your limbs feeling like jelly as you listen to the steady drumming of his heartbeat.
“You can’t have it both ways, you know,” you tell him, not looking into his eyes.
You expect to feel him tense beneath you, to tell you to stop being jealous. Or dramatic. Or not as easygoing as other situationships. Something Jason would say. Something Jason had said to you.
“You can’t get mad at me for seeing Cregan and then go screw Lydia Tyrell,” you continue, nervously chewing on your lip.
You feel Aegon’s hand on the back of your head, smoothing your hair.
“I know,” he tells you, chest rumbling, “I just wanted to see you sweat a little.”
You lift your face, resting your chin on his chest to look at him. He glances down at you, a sly smile on his face.
“What?” he asks.
“You’re not seeing Lydia?” you ask, heart beating erratically.
Aegon shakes his head and you whack him on the chest.
“Ow!” he says, wincing.
“You’re such a dick!” you tell him and he rolls until he’s on top of you.
He presses his lips to yours and the rude words slip from your mind as his tongue caresses your bottom lip. Aegon presses his body against yours, the weight of him against you bringing a fresh way of arousal to your center.
“I’d like to be seeing you,” he murmurs against your mouth.
Your fingers tangle in his hair as he nips your lower lip, eager for him to sheath himself within you once more.
“Helaena is going to kill us,” you tell him, kissing him back nonetheless.
“We don’t have to tell her,” he murmurs between kisses.
You freeze suddenly, pulling your lips from his.
A secret. You’re going to be a secret. That’s almost worse. Shame twists in your gut, and Aegon senses a shift in your mood as you rise, slipping Cregan’s jersey back over your head and your biker shorts back on.
Aegon sits up slightly, cocking his head.
“What?” he asks, but you shake your head.
“Nothing,” you tell him, running a hand through your hair, “I just have to go.”
“Now?” Aegon asks, his voice breaking into a whine, “Y/N, stay with me-”
“No I have to go,” you insist, grabbing your shoes.
Your tights are ruined, hanging on you in tattered pieces but you don’t care. You need to get out, need to leave before the tears blurring your vision spill over.
Aegon’s brow creases, he stands up taking the bedsheet with him, clutching it against his stomach to cover himself.
“Y/N what did I do?” Aegon asks, concern lacing his tone.
You sigh, hand on the door before forcing a smile on your face and turning to him.
“Nothing. You’re just being Aegon,” you tell him, “Forgot who you were for a minute, it’s all good.”
Pain flashes across his features for a moment and a tear escapes your eye. You wipe it away furiously before pulling his bedroom door open.
“I’ll see you around,” you call, not looking back as the dam within you breaks.
You hurry down the stairs and out of the hockey house into the cold night air, hurrying down the quiet streets of your college campus eager to get back to your apartment.
You can’t help but cry, cursing as you pass a group of drunk girls who stop when they see you, insisting you tell them what’s wrong. Finally, you make it home, walking into your dark apartment. You’re greeted by Baela on your couch, who rises as you enter.
Your heart nearly stops beating. You dig mindlessly into your purse for your phone, hands shaking.
8 missed calls.
She tried calling you. For the past hour or so. The entire time you were with Aegon. Guilt pours through your limbs and you’re sobbing earnestly now, Baela holding you against her. There’s one more missed call, more recently, just about ten minutes ago.
Aegon.
note: I hope you enjoyed my loves! Again, don't hate me too much for the angst I truly cannot help myself!
Heir to the throne - Daemon Targaryen x niece!reader
Summary: You and your uncle Daemon have a somewhat sullen relationship. Daemon thinks you are weak. And you think he is insufferable and manipulative. But how long can you resist your growing affection for him?
Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x fem!reader
Warnings: Smut; 18+; NSFW; Minors do not continue reading!
Author’s note: Hey you (:
A one-shot Daemon story requested by @dreamlandcreations 🖤
I hope you like it!
English is my second language, please forgive me if I made any mistakes (:
Word count: 5.5 k
Other stories of mine
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
As the day of your birth dawned, the enchanting chimes of Kings Landing echoed through the city, filling the air with a symphony of celebration. All the people of the realm witnessed your arrival on this earth. As the beloved first-born daughter of King Viserys and his beloved Queen Aemma, it was well known that your father longed for a son. But your father's deep love for you surpassed all pre-determined expectations.
When your mother's womb was filled with new life again, you were still a child yourself, and the anticipation of the arrival of a male heir to stride through the royal halls grew. But fate had other plans, and your sister Rhaenyra graced the world with her presence. From the moment she entered this realm, an unbreakable bond formed between the two of you. Despite Rhaenyra's temperamental nature, you found harmony in each other's company.
During your childhood together, mischievous pranks became part of your playful repertoire, often driving others to despair. While you found solace in the art of needlework and the treasures of old books in the library, Rhaenyra could always be found in the exercise yard, rolling in the earth and eagerly keeping pace with the boys of the court. But you, too, actually took part in such pursuits and proved that your wild spirit burns just as brightly. Countless times you stood by Rhaenyra's side, defending her against the taunts of those who mocked her only because she was a girl. Together, fearlessly and with combined strength, you unceremoniously threw those who dared to challenge you into the dirt.
Yet the longing for a male heir consumed your father Viserys' heart and overshadowed the vibrant love between your parents. Your mother, despite her best efforts, was tired and exhausted after mourning a dead child in the cradle, suffering two stillbirths and two heartbreaking miscarriages.
But a glimmer of hope emerged when she became pregnant again, sparking the anticipation of a long-awaited male successor. Even you and Rhaenyra held on to that hope, for you were reluctant to take on the burden of ruling a kingdom. The duties and benefits of being a princess gave you both far more pleasure. But this pregnancy weighed heavily on your mother, sapping her vitality with each passing day. The signs were obvious to you, for she rarely ventured out of her bath anymore.
You and Rhaenyra started spending a few moments together in bed in the evenings at that time. You had numerous conversations ranging from trivia to the prevailing topic of your mother and her exhausting pregnancy. It was during these intimate exchanges that your fear of childbirth was really ignited.
This fear was only fuelled when your mother died in childbirth. Your mother's untimely passing at the birth of the long-awaited male heir shook you and Rhaenyra to the core.
But in the midst of the pain, there was a surprising turn of events when your father called you to him. The seriousness that showed on his face set the tone as you and Rhaenyra stood before King Viserys, waiting for his words.
In a calm and serious tone, he unravelled the story of the Song of Ice and Fire and tied together the threads of the prophetic vision of Aegon the Conqueror. As his hopeful gaze fell upon you, a feeling of trepidation crept over you, for you did not know what he was up to. Your father was trying to divert the succession by preferring you to your uncle Daemon and longing for you to ascend the throne.
There was silence in the air, broken only by Rhaenyra's radiant smile. But you shook your head resolutely and refused the iron throne that awaited you. And so the path took its course, granting Rhaenyra her rightful place as heir to the throne.
But what you and Rhaenyra also shared was the joyful anticipation that shot through your veins every time your uncle Daemon visited King's Landing. The moment Caraxes appeared in the sky, your heart beat faster and you quickly made your way to the dragon pit. Hastily you traversed the corridors, longing to catch even a glimpse of your beloved uncle. Gasping for breath, you reached the entrance of the dragon pit and waited patiently for his arrival. It wasn't long before Rhaenyra was at your side, waiting as well. And whenever Daemon finally appeared, a radiant smile lit up both your faces.
Without hesitation, you both sprinted towards him, and with effortless strength, he lifted you both up in his arms and carried you towards the keep. Enchanted, you listened to his every word and listened to tales of epic battles and distant lands he had travelled. But over time, things changed. You grew more mature, older and wiser.
Although you still hold your uncle in high esteem, a bittersweet ambivalence stirs within you. You still enjoyed listening to his stories, even if you feigned a certain disinterest. But his shadowy deeds, which always resonated in the depths of your consciousness, repelled you.
The same was true of your uncle. He held you in high esteem, considered you his niece and vowed to protect you from the horrors of this world should he have the power to do so. However, he considered you weak, much like your father, King Viserys. It was Rhaenyra, spirited and rebellious, who attracted his affections more. But such things were of no consequence to you. Gaining his attention was not attractive, at least you kept whispering this to yourself.
One day, the whispers of the servants echoed ceaselessly through the air, like a delicate melody. The news was full of excitement - a vibrant festival was to fill the humble streets of Flea Bottom. Enchanting attractions and captivating performers would parade through the avenues, enthralling all who gathered with their enchanting talents. Naturally, your curiosity was piqued, for it had been far too long since you had joined Rhaenyra on a journey through the secret passages of the keep.
As evening fell and dinner drew to a close, you retired to your chambers. Secretly you dressed in the humble attire of the servants and carefully donned a cloak with a hood that concealed your shining silver locks. With great determination, you approached what appeared to be an ordinary wall in your chambers and exerted a gentle but purposeful push. The wall that obeyed your touch gives way, revealing a hidden passageway that lies beyond. A tingle of anticipation flows through you as you enter the hidden passageways and the familiar excitement within you flares up again.
As you arrive in front of the massive keep, you stare upwards, fascinated by the towering walls that seem almost frightening. Relief washes over you, for you knew that tonight you would escape the confines of this fortress and enjoy the freedom that awaited you. Your path leads you unwaveringly to Flea Bottom, a thriving tapestry of life and pleasure. The narrow streets were teeming with happy people, the air was filled with animated conversation and joyous laughter.
At every corner, artists adorned the bustling scene, showing off their talents and attracting the attention of passers-by. The fascination of it all takes hold of you as your gaze wanders upwards to witness a daredevil performer gracefully crossing a taut rope between two old walls. A melodious laugh escapes your lips, evidence of the sheer wonder and enchantment that has captivated you.
The lure of this uncomplicated existence is undeniably great. What is even more enticing is the anonymity it gives you. Here your hair remains unseen, the darkness hides you from prying eyes. Your purple eyes go unnoticed like a hidden gem. You are no princess, but just an ordinary soul among them.
A woman gracefully hands you a glass of wine and a smile graces your lips in response. As you sip the wine, she leads you into the crowd of dancing people. In the square, musicians serenade and enchant those who sway to their melodies. You find yourself in the midst of the cheering crowd, laughing and twirling in blissful abandon. You spill a little wine but pay no attention to the fleeting mishap. Your hood slips briefly, but you deftly straighten it again, preserving your disguise.
But as you turn around briskly, a sudden shock of surprise passes through you. Standing before you is your uncle, Daemon, wrapped in his own cloak.
"Uncle!" you say, startled. Your eyes are wide and you stop abruptly. You are breathing heavily from all your dancing.
But he only grins at you.
"Well, well... What is our little princess doing here?" he asks you.
You clear your throat slightly, "Well... I just wanted to enjoy the festivities," you say softly.
He smiles at you, "I could see that," he grins at you.
"So you're interested in the festivities? And you even sneak out of the keep to do it?" he asks you.
You look at him, "Does that surprise you?" you ask him in return.
He shrugs slightly, "Let's put it this way, I didn't expect it"
He looks at you with a look you can't quite place. Your cheeks flush slightly and you look to the side.
"Well... I have to go, take care princess," he says with a slight grin and continues walking.
You are left a little irritated.
The next day you learn that Rhaenyra was in a brothel with Daemon and you are shocked. You met Daemon on the streets of Flea Bottom, he must have gone straight to a brothel afterwards... When you hear this, you immediately go in search of Rhaenyra.
When you find her, she is standing talking to Ser Criston.
"Rhaenyra," you say, and she responds with a smile.
"Can we talk for a moment?" you ask her.
Ser Criston steps away from you.
When you are alone, you look at her.
"You were in a brothel with Uncle Daemon?" you ask her.
Her eyes grow wide.
"How do you know about that?" she asks you, horrified.
"Well... secrets don't stay secrets here for long... Especially when two silver-haired people visit a brothel," you say.
She swallows visibly.
"So it's true?" you ask her.
She grabs your arm, "He didn't take my maidenhead, I swear," she says to you.
"But how can you be so careless as to go to a brothel with him?" you ask her.
"Do you know what will happen if this gets out?" you ask her further, "Your reputation will be ruined!"
She bites her lip nervously.
"It won't come out... and if it does...I didn't lose my maidenhead to him," she says softly.
But after your father finds out about it, he is furious. He has Daemon brought to him.
"Give me Rhaenyra to take to wife and we will return the House of the Dragon to its proper glory"
There is a brief silence in the throne room as Daemon speaks the words and lies hungover on the floor.
Viserys kneels over him, "Of course... It's not my daughter you lust for, is it?"
He presses the blade a little more against Daemon's neck, "It's my throne"
Daemon grins just slightly.
"You can take her as your wife... But she will no longer be heir to the throne. I will make y/n heir to the throne. Rhaenyra is no longer pure, too wild to rule a kingdom... Hoping that you cannot corrupt y/n, " Viserys finally says.
Daemon gets angry, "You can't do that!"
Viserys stands up, "You'll see what I can do"
And in a moment that seemed to stand the test of time, your father, in a grand production, announced to the realm that you were the rightful heir to the throne. He justifies this monumental decision by acknowledging that he should have recognised your esteemed position as elder sister from the beginning.
Deep down, however, both you and Rhaenyra understand the motivations behind this decision, but the revelation leaves you stunned and unprepared. The thought of assuming the role of queen does not suit your heart's desires, but your father, determined and weary of all stormy arguments, rejects all arguments.
The kingdom is in an uproar, and King Viserys hosts an extravagant ball to celebrate this turning point. With unwavering courage, you step into the limelight, knowing that all eyes will be on you all night and your every move will be closely watched. Countless lords vie for your attention, eager to capture your gaze. You, now the embodiment of attraction, become the most desired woman in the realm, igniting ardent desire from all corners. In the midst of this whirlwind, you find a moment of calm, enjoying a sip of wine in solitude, only to be startled by the sudden appearance of your uncle at your side.
"Niece," he says in greeting.
You look over at him slightly and then drink some more of your wine.
"Uncle," you say back.
After a while his voice resounds, "So you are now heir to the throne"
You nod slightly, "I guess that's right," you say.
He smiles slightly, "You don't seem very pleased about it"
You snort slightly, "Well... if you hadn't taken your other niece to a brothel and started rumours about her virtue... Then I wouldn't have to be here," you say.
"So you're not pleased?" he asks you.
You just look at him.
"Why... Why are you taking her to a brothel in the first place? It's irresponsible and immoral," you say.
"'Excuse me... My highly moral niece... but if we are honest, was I ever moral?" he asks you.
You snort again and he looks at you.
"You were out in Flea Bottom yourself...," he finally replies, but you interrupt him.
"... but I didn't go to a brothel!" you say.
He watches you for a moment.
"I had to take Rhaenyra there... I had to show her... To show her what it means to make political decisions… to fulfil duties and also to accept and live out personal preferences," he tells you.
You shake your head slightly, "You can't think of anything better than taking your niece to your brothel?"
You drink from your wine and look out into the crowd again.
He looks at you, a slight smile curling his lips.
"You wish I had gone to the brothel with you?" he asks suddenly.
You choke on your wine.
"Excuse me?" you ask him.
He grins now, "You wish I had chosen you. When I met you on the streets of Flea Bottom... You wish I had taken you by the hand and..."
But you interrupt him.
"What? No! Of course not!" you say to him, but your cheeks blush slightly.
He just grins even more, "Well... If I had known that your father would now install you as heir to the throne... Then I wouldn't have deprived you of this lesson," he says with the same grin on his face.
"Stop it!" you hiss.
"I have no interest in going to a filthy brothel with you," you say to him and you feel the anger rising inside you.
"Well... we don't have to go to a brothel either... I can teach you this lesson in a soft bed," his eyes sparkle as he says this to you.
You just look at him.
"Do you always have to be like this? So manipulative? Maybe you should stop trying to corrupt your brother's daughters... At some point there won't be any children left to succeed to the throne... Or is that what you want? So that you can be named heir to the throne again?" you say to him.
Daemon's gaze darkens, but you simply step away from him.
You leave the ball. You quickly try to put a great distance between you and Daemon. You don't know what it is, but the thought of being in a brothel with Daemon stirs something in you. But you quickly move on towards your chambers.
As the morning light wakes you and you step out of your chambers after your morning routine, a bittersweet realisation comes to you - Daemon has once again left King's Landing.
But in the midst of this recurring absence, a new responsibility now weighs on your shoulders and demands your attention. Your father, concerned for your future, keeps dropping hints about potential suitors who might be worthy of you. Some of these suggestions make you recoil in horror, as they are unfamiliar names of lords you have never heard of.
Others, with some logic, sound like good partners. But one name keeps coming up - Laenor Velaryon. Laenor, a kind-hearted soul, would guarantee you a respectful marriage. But deep inside you long for a marriage that promises more than a husband who prefers to spend his free time in the company of other men.
While King Viserys wants to leave the final decision to you, he nevertheless tries in his own discreet way to win your heart for this union. Inwardly, you cannot help but envy Rhaenyra, who now enjoys the freedom of choice, unaffected by the burden of political affairs. Yet you are taken aback when she too suddenly expresses her desire for an engagement.
Ser Harwin's proposal to marry her is announced by your father, and the glow on Rhaenyra's lips betrays her joy. After much deliberation, your father has given his consent to this betrothal, sealing the path Rhaenyra will take.
Preparations for Rhaenyra's wedding are in full swing, putting an enchanting aura in the air. Although Rhaenyra is no longer heir to the throne, no expense or effort is spared to ensure a magnificent wedding. While you are busy with your own new tasks, you are all the more surprised when your sister's wedding is suddenly only a few days away.
The capital city is welcoming an influx of distinguished guests, with unfamiliar faces packing the halls. Amidst this swirl, fate once again crosses your path with Laenor. Warm greetings are exchanged, and in the absence of your father's watchful presence, you are indeed able to engage in pleasant conversation. Unfortunately, your father never fails to highlight Laenor's presence whenever he can.
On the auspicious day of the wedding, there is a grand ball where wine flows copiously, instilling in you a sense of calm. This makes it a little easier to bear your father's insistent insistence that you dance with Laenor. Your gaze, however, inevitably wanders to Rhaenyra and Ser Harwin, who always wear beaming smiles on their lips. Genuine joy fills your heart for them.
Suddenly a murmur goes through the crowd, growing louder with each passing moment. As you look up from your seat at the head table, you catch sight of the entrance of your uncle, who has been absent throughout the ceremony.
Surprised, but not completely taken aback, it seems only logical that he naturally needs to make a special appearance. He exudes an undeniable charm as he strides into the hall, his lips curved into a subtle smile. Your eyes meet briefly, and you detect a hint of mirth in his eyes. Hastily, you avert your gaze and seek refuge in the depths of your wine glass.
Daemon makes his way to Rhaenyra and Ser Harwin and offers them his congratulations before gracefully walking around the table. Finally, he settles across from you. As you avoid his gaze, your attention is abruptly taken by your father, who suddenly stands before you. A smile graces your face as you lift your gaze to meet him, only to lose it again when you see Laenor standing beside your father.
"Y/n. I thought you were going to show Laenor your new dancing skills?" your father asks you.
You smile, "Where do you keep getting these ideas from?," you mumble.
But gracefully you rise from your seat and put on a gentle smile, as if the weight of the world is light on your shoulders. Together with Laenor, you glide to the dance floor, a harmonious couple amidst the lively atmosphere. Laenor, a skilful dance partner, engages you in pleasant conversation. But his presence does not arouse any feelings beyond the warmth of a cousin.
After a few dances, a growing restlessness overcomes you and you long for solitude and a break from the boisterous mood. Seeking solace, you retreat to the edge of the dance floor, the rim of your wine cup finding comfort at your lips. A single, daring sip empties the vessel and quiets your inner turmoil for a moment. In the distance, your father approaches Laenor once more and engages him in conversation. The scene almost amuses you as you notice that Laenor is beginning to seem annoyed too.
You quickly take another cup of wine and leave the festivities before your father can address you again. Cup in hand, you stroll through the corridors and make your way to your chambers. Weary from the day's events, your only desire is to wrap yourself in solitude. As you enter your private chambers, you free yourself from the confines of your dress and let out a relieved sigh as the lacing at your back loosens.
The garment falls to the floor and surrenders to gravity. Wearing a flowing nightgown, you approach the mirror and carefully untangle the intricately braided pigtails that adorned your head. As you lift the brush and prepare to run it through your silken tresses, an unwelcome interruption sounds in the form of a sharp knock on the door. Irritation flickers across your face as you turn to face the unwelcome disturbance.
"Who is it?" you ask. But no one answers. You sigh and go to the door. You open it.
"What is it?" but you pause as you see your uncle.
"Uncle?" you ask.
He smiles slightly at you, "Niece," he says.
You look at each other for a while.
"Won't you invite me in?" he finally asks you.
"I'm not sure I want to," you reply.
He raises his eyebrows a little, but you take a step to the side.
His hands are behind his back and he smiles at you. Slowly he enters your chambers. You close the door and watch him. You see his broad back and notice that he seems to be looking around.
"Not much has changed in your chambers..." he says somewhat absently as he stands at your desk.
You look at him and smile a little, "Did you come here to inspect my chambers?" you ask him.
He turns to you and has to smile a little again, "No... of course not...", he says almost quietly.
He lets his fingers glide lightly over a book lying on your desk.
"You seemed annoyed," he says finally.
Now you are the one raising your eyebrows, "What?" you ask him.
"Well... At the ball... You seemed upset. Upset that Viserys kept trying to badger you with Laenor's presence," he says, smiling at you.
You roll your eyes a little as you think about it again. "Is it that noticeable?" you ask him.
You walk over to the table and drink from your wine again.
"I don't want to marry Laenor," you say finally.
"I like Laenor, he's nice. But I don't want a man who prefers the company of men," you say, turning to face Daemon.
Daemon grins slightly.
"That's understandable... You want a man who desires you," he says to you.
You have to chuckle a little, but shake your head slightly, "I don't think that's an argument that will meet with my father's understanding," you say.
"Well...", Daemon says, "You will be queen, you should decide who you marry... who will rule with you", he says to you.
You drink again of your wine and look at him. You see a sparkle in his purple eyes.
"I could take you to a brothel, if that would help you decide," he says suddenly.
This hits you unexpectedly and you suddenly have to laugh. Your laughter infects Daemon and you hear him chuckle slightly.
"Thank you very much for your offer, uncle. But I think I will decline," you say with a smile.
You look at each other and notice how close you are. You can literally feel his breath on your skin. Suddenly his lips are on yours. You gasp briefly, but then his hand is on your cheek and he holds you tight. The kiss is wild and passionate. You put your hands on his firm chest and pull him closer to you by his waistcoat.
You whimper slightly as he gently bites your lower lip. Daemon breaks the kiss briefly. He is breathing heavily. His thumb wanders gently over your lower lip. His eyes seem to be watching your face closely, as if finding even the slightest sign that you don't want this.
"Do you really want me to corrupt another daughter of the king?" he asks you in his deep voice.
You are also breathing heavily and look at him.
"Shut up, uncle," you say simply.
He chuckles lightly and lets his hand slide down your neck. He pulls you close again and kisses you.
He pushes you backwards slightly and you notice the back of your thighs pressing against the desk. His hands are suddenly on your hips and with one quick movement you are sitting on the desk. Daemon is standing between your legs and he starts kissing your neck. Slowly he lets his lips and tongue glide over your soft skin. His fingers slowly slide along your thigh and you gasp.
"Is that okay?" Daemon whispers as he continues to caress your neck. You just nod and wrap your legs around him.
You feel a slight grin on his lips. You start to unbutton his shirt. More and more of his muscular chest is exposed. You notice slight scars on his skin as he lets go of your neck to pull his shirt over his head. You breathe heavily. You let your fingers wander gently over his chest and feel the scars. You bite your lip lightly.
"Shall we stop for a moment and admire each other's bodies?" he asks you with a teasing undertone.
You look up into his eyes. "Shut up, I said," you whisper. He chuckles softly and kisses you again. His hand continues to wander along your thigh. It slides under your nightgown and you let your hand slide down his neck. You gently grab his neck and pull him closer to you. You notice how your undergarments are getting more and more soaked. When his fingers suddenly slide over your folds, you moan into his mouth. He doesn't hesitate for long and pushes your undergarments aside. He feels your wetness immediately and his fingers are immediately soaked.
A deep groan forms in his chest. His fingers find your clit and start to leave firm but gentle movements on it. You moan again and gasp. You grip his neck tighter and he grins at you.
"You like that..." he whispers.
You just whimper as he moves his fingers faster. You kiss him again and try to undo his trousers at the same time. But you are distracted by his fingers. When he suddenly inserts two fingers into you, your efforts stop.
"Daemon...", you moan a little louder now.
"Yes...? I must prepare you for my cock...", he murmurs simply and lets his fingers slide into you.
You look into his eyes. Your cheeks are flushed and you are breathing heavily. He smiles at you. You moan as he lets his fingers disappear inside you again and again. You close your eyes and pull him towards you. Your lips find his lips and when he inserts a third finger, you just whimper. But you start to move your hips towards him.
Suddenly you hear him open his trousers and they slip to the floor. Your tongues continue to dance around each other as he suddenly stops inserting his fingers into you. Instead, he reaches for your undergarments and pulls them down your legs. You breathe heavily and watch his movements. You see him bite his lip as he just drops your undergarments on the floor. But then your gaze falls on his body. Daemon is standing in front of you without his shirt and trousers. And you see his entire size.
You now bite your lip as you look at his cock. It is big and thick and you can already see a few drops polling around at its tip.
His big hand pumps a few times his hot length and then he lets the tip of his cock slide through your wetness. You hear him grunt softly and can't hold back a moan of your own.
He kisses you again and lets his hand wander to your ass. Slowly he pulls you closer to him and you feel him slowly push his cock into you. You bite your lip.
You gasp as his big member almost splits you. But it feels so good. He gives you time to adjust to his size. You start to move your hips towards him. And he takes that as a sign and his thrusts become stronger. With each thrust he is deeper inside you.
His grunts get louder and you start moaning in unison with him. He fills you completely. Your arms are around his neck and you close your eyes. His hands are on your hips and he makes you slam down on his cock faster. You cry out in passion. The table beneath you starts to creak with each thrust, it is obviously not designed for such activities.
Suddenly one of his hands is on your shoulder and he pushes you down gently. You follow his instruction and lie down on the table. Immediately his hands are on your hips again, setting the pace. You wrap your legs around his waist to push him closer to you. The slapping of your naked skin and your lustful sounds fill your chambers. With each thrust, he grazes your sweet spot in your wet core. You moan out. Daemon notices how your walls clench around his cock.
Without hesitation, he begins to rub your pearl with his thumb. You reach for his biceps as a wave of excitement floods through you.
"Daemon..." you gasp.
"It's all right, I've got you. Show me how good it is for you... Come on my cock," you hear him say in his deep voice. His thumb moves faster and his thrusts become harder.
And then an incredible feeling floods you.
You moan, but his thrusts don't let up.
"Daemon," you moan and continue to grab his biceps.
"Yes... Yes!" he just grunts. You close your eyes and are a moaning mess. And then you hear him groan loudly. His moans become softer until they subside completely. You are both breathing heavily. You are still lying on your desk. Daemon is still standing between your legs. He lets his head hang down and you feel him slowly pull his cock out of you. You notice his cum leaking out of you and dripping onto the floor. But you can't move. Your eyes are closed and you try to catch your breath. You notice how he gently caresses your thigh.
"I wanted to take Rhaenyra's maidenhead that night... In the brothel...", you suddenly hear him say.
You open your eyes and look at him. He looks at you closely.
Neither of you says anything.
When suddenly he breaks the silence again, "But I couldn't"
You continue to look at him.
"Why?" you ask quietly.
He swallows briefly, "When I saw you that night. You, the perfect, good princess who did something forbidden... That somehow confused me..." he says quietly. His fingers continue to caress your thigh.
"I don't know, I just couldn't," he says a little louder.
You have to smile slightly and sit up.
"So my uncle does have a conscience," you say teasingly.
He has to smile slightly, "Then I guess I shouldn't have taken your maidenhead"
You smile, "Who said you did?"
He looks at you a little startled.
"I was joking," you say before he can say anything.
This time he has to laugh. He starts stroking your cheek.
"Maybe your father had better not find out about this," he says suddenly. But you have the feeling that there is a hint of sadness.
You look at him. Suddenly you have to smile slightly.
"Except... When I tell him I want to marry you," you say.
His eyes grow wide.
"What...?" he whispers.
"Well... He wants me to get married. And I get to have the last word," you say.
"But you are so often annoyed with me," he says with a smile.
"Well... at least that guarantees it won't be boring," you say quietly.
Daemon just shakes his head slightly and leans forward. He kisses you softly.
Anne's note: Hello my loves! First I would like to thank you for staying with me this far, I swear it made all the difference! And after a long, long time I finally had the time and inspiration to finish this story. It was difficult, physically difficult, but with your encouragement I managed. I really hope this pleases you, but I need to make it clear that this story is a dark fic, with heavy themes. The reader has gone through traumas and losses that I hardly think she could fully recover from. And, as much as she have found some kind of "love" or close to it, her emotions may just be based on a kind of Stockholm Syndrome. Anyway, I wanted to make it as real as possible and finish being true to my feelings. Enjoy!
Summary: In an abrupt turn of events, you are taken prisoner in the Red Keep. With no family and nothing to fight for, will you lose hope?
Read the warnings.
English is not my first language.
Warnings: velaryon!reader, fem!reader, +18, greens won the war, confused feelings, anguished sex, soft aemond, dom aemond, stockholm syndrome, depressed feelings, emotional manipulation, emotional dependency, sex, fingering, dirty talk, pet names, oral sex...
Raughan soars confidently, circling Dragonstone Castle as Vhagar soars above him, hidden by the clouds - a silent vigil for their riders. Their forms can barely be discerned by the darkness of the night, if it weren't for the considerable size of both of them and the sounds they emit from time to time.
Free.
Different from you.
Your return to Dragonstone was not something you, in your position as a simple spoil of war, would have taken the time to entertain in your thoughts while imprisoned.
But somehow, you had come back.
To your house. To your home.
Though it didn't feel much like home now. Not when you looked out at the waves crashing on the rocks below and couldn't hear a sound coming from inside the castle. Without the shrill voices of your brothers arguing who was the most skilled among them. Without your mother's calm, authoritative presence. Without Daemon and his questionable ways. No one else.
Your hands flex against the stone wall of your chambers balcony as you sigh, hair blowing in the icy night wind - the painfully familiar salty smell of the sea hits your nose. Your fingers begin to tap in a steady rhythm against the icy stone, listening to a melody no one else can. Considerable effort was put into focusing only on the tapping of your fingers, watching every movement they made and listening carefully to the imaginary sounds only you could hear. You used to do this when you couldn't sleep at night or when you were very on edge with the horrors of your own mind. It somehow seemed to drown out the pain welling up from the depths of your body and mind and drown out the agonized screams of the closest people you've ever had.
No, this definitely didn't feel like home anymore. And you sincerely doubted that it would ever be again.
But the other alternative was worse, and you were learning to be grateful for small mercies. It was a relief to be here and not in the Red Keep, surrounded by people you wanted to strangle every second of the day. It was comforting to feel free of that feeling for the first time in a long time.
But of course there was still Aemond.
The truth is, you didn't know how to control how you felt about him. He was almost a stranger to you, despite how close he seemed to be constantly.
There were pieces of him that you saw, felt, and weren't sure which were real and which were just an act. A few months ago you considered him one of the worst human beings you knew - but would it be true to say that no one would be inclined to cruelty after going through what he went through? You couldn't say anymore.
You could no longer stop making arguments to defend his actions. Morbid curiosity about his actions and feelings seemed to consume more and more of your thoughts.
Consumed by him - Aemond - who was basically the stuff of all your nightmares.
You fully blamed him for this sin. He was persistent. Persistent to the point that made you develop feelings dangerously similar to...love. If you were still capable of feeling such a thing.
No, you didn't think that after what you'd been through, the things you'd seen, the things you'd done...no, you didn't deserve something pure, precious and beautiful like love.
But thinking about it, maybe that was it. Maybe your broken-beyond-repair self was drawn to his obsessive attention; like weeds sprouting without permission among the delicate flowers of a well-tended garden. Maybe deep down you were just as fucked up as he was and in some sick way that had attracted your broken heart. Two war survivors clinging to the crumbs of mercy life was offering.
Maybe you deserved each other after all.
You often wondered if he was simply respecting your willingness not to talk about your last moments together, or if he couldn't bring himself to talk to you about it - about you. About how exactly he became so convoluted in your life, in your pseudo happiness, in your sour recovery. How he was being a solid shadow in a reality that became an endless circle of people, enemies, death, pain and redemption. A lifeline.
"My Princess?"
You are brought out of your thoughts as you hear the soft voice of one of the many maids sent to Dragonstone with you and Aemond. You look at her blankly, not particularly interested in what she has to say, but at the same time not wanting to take your frustrations out on the wrong person.
"Your bath is ready, Princess."
With a gentle nod, you let her know you heard her.
Looking one last time at the waves breaking on the shore you sigh and enter your chambers, allowing the maid - whatever the name was - to help you remove your heavy clothes and guide you to the bathtub with hot water and a soft smell of lavender.
The fire crackled farther away, a soft orange light across the room. The water was the perfect temperature and you knew you would smell wonderful when this was over.
But something was wrong.
Despite all the obvious work and dedication put into creating a good bath time for you, you found yourself sitting tensely in the tub while the maid murmured something and washed your hair. The gentle hands make you feel sorry, like you're a broken toy to mourn. But you know that you not something special that deserves special care. No, it wasn't what you needed. She looked cheerful and bright. A chatty ray of sunshine and totally willing to serve you.
Too bright for someone permanently stained like you.
And as she innocently rambled on about the softness of your hair and how good it smelled, you felt yourself drifting...sinking... invisible hands pulling you into the tub, so, so deep, until you weren't there anymore. You were at sea again. Icy waves engulfing your body and pulling you deeper and deeper.
"And some court ladies are-"
"Aemond."
You cut her off sharply.
"Huh? Pardon, my Lady?"
"Go get Aemond. Now."
You had no intention of being rude to her, your natural politeness and friendliness was so much better than that. But you weren't quite yourself these days, and when the poor girl flinched in confusion at your request, you shot her a sharp sideways glance — which was enough motivation to get her to her feet quickly and running out the door.
As soon as the heavy wooden door slammed announcing the girl's departure, you rose from the tub. Rivulets of scented water running down your body as you - with a sullen scowl - dried off and grabbed a light cloth robe to cover yourself up. A towel was used to remove excess water from your hair and when you were satisfied with the drying, you took a hairbrush to detangle the strands.
You could be taking out your frustrations on your hair with strong, steady pulls, but as you stared into the blazing fire you barely felt any sting.
How dare he disappear for so long? By the gods, you were in Dragonstone, there weren't many places he could disappear to for hours on end.
You stopped motion with the comb in your hair.
For a long moment, you're paralyzed to do anything but feel the way your breath starts to come faster as your chest rises and falls in time with your racing heartbeat, the possibility that he's just gone hammering away abruptly in your thoughts.
But he wouldn't. Vhagar was still here.
Right?
Because if he does, if he leaves you now, then you are truly and entirely alone. There will be nothing left.
Nobody.
“Nobody,” you mutter staring into the flames, the vision dimming a bit as your chest contracts and tightens in a chokehold. "Alone."
There's an invisible tightness in your throat right now and you think you might be hyperventilating. Gods, were you going to faint?
No Aemond, no Aemond.
You needed him.
It's the way he sees you (intense, deep and burning, as if he could touch your soul) that keeps you lucid in this chaos. His intensity for you practically consumes you.
And you stand up and almost glow - feel almost alive - under his gaze and admit, bravely and in all honesty, that you no longer care about being him, of all people. He's obviously fixated on you. Even before the war, he always was. It's something like an obsession. You don't think he notices; he's not the type to worry about such things. He takes what he wants, and that's just it, but that's okay. He doesn't even need to worry.
Because he gave you something to anchor yourself to, gave you some hope when there was none left.
You couldn't go on without him.
The doors to the chambers open and you jump out of your skin in fright, wide eyes fixed on Aemond entering. He pays no attention to anything but you, violet gaze meeting yours immediately and with purpose. The still slightly scared maid followed close behind.
"Leave us." He demands and the maid obeys without hesitation, leaving the two of you alone after a respectful bow.
He looks wary, watching the emotions that cross your face with extreme curiosity. Neither of you says anything for a whole long minute, and it pains you to admit your heart is lighter just being able to see him.
"Where were you?"
You break the silence, squeezing the hairbrush tightly between your fingers, trying to keep the dam of feelings that wants to burst inside you under control. Aemond looks momentarily taken aback by your question, not expecting you to really care about his absence.
So hateful.
"At the library."
That's all he offers you. As if you didn't need any further explanation, as if he didn't make you beg to return to this place; haunted with ghosts and dying voices.
"I thought you were gone. I thought...I thought you left me." You lift your chin as you speak, hurtful and humiliating words, but proud posture.
Aemond tilts his head to the side, long silver cascade fluidly following his movement. He was so handsome it made you hate him even more.
"Where else would I go?"
You didn't know how to respond, your mouth opening and closing like a fish. Aemond waited patiently, posture and expression unchanged. A complete and enviable mastery over his own reactions that only served to infuriate you further. Here you were, on the verge of a nervous breakdown as he remained unflappable.
"I don't know! Away?"
He blinked slowly, looking away from yours for the first time to focus on something behind you thoughtfully. It took a few seconds like that, but then you heard it. A laugh. A real laugh.
He was laughing at you.
"Is this a joke to you? It's all a game, isn't it?" You were confused and humiliated. Confused, humiliated and angry. A dangerous combination.
He shook his head and looked back at you, the smile slowly fading.
"It was never a game for me, little one. I thought it was clear by now." You can physically feel the weight of his discerning gaze on you at every turn. It doesn't really help you to ignore the fact that both of your hands are shaking right now. "But allow me to clarify one more time."
He took his fingers to the buckles that held his leather shirt, unfastening the first of them, without taking his gaze from yours.
"I won't leave your side. Not today. Not tomorrow. Never."
It was embarrassing the way your shoulders relaxed and a relieved sigh left your lips just as he finished speaking. Your hairbrush death grip loosened and you only partially heard the sound of the object slipping from your fingers and falling to the floor.
"It's really a relief to see that you're starting to see what's going on here." His words penetrated the satisfied haze of your mind, drawing your attention back to him.
He must have seen the confusion in your eyes, the struggle still there.
"You need me." His tone is as dry and indifferent as ever, but his confident words touch you and your heart aches in a bittersweet way.
It hurt because you knew it was true. But it was your truth. You weren't ready for Aemond to know that. Denial was still the safest course.
"I think I hate you." You warned him sharply, but you wanted to punch yourself as soon as the words were out of your mouth. Why 'I think I hate you' is the same as 'I probably hate you' which is the same as 'I don't know if I hate you' which is the same as 'I don't hate you gods I really think I like you'.
Aemond smiled, as if he could read your thoughts, still busy taking off your clothes with calculated slowness.
"Want to know what I think?"
No, you didn't. But of course he said it anyway.
"I think you've hated me once, yes. One day. But not anymore," he finally released the buckles on his leather shirt, letting it slip off his broad shoulders and fall to the floor in an untidy heap. A lump formed in your throat at the sight of him approaching you after that - all cat and predatory - silver hair, defined muscles and pale skin gleaming in the most sinful way in the soft orange lighting of the fire. "And that's what scares you the most. Not knowing exactly how you feel about me."
You were so embarrassingly engrossed in the tantalizing array of information in front of you that it took you a few seconds to remember what you were talking about. With a shrug and red cheeks you shook your head gently, trying to come to your senses.
"Wh-what do you mean?"
"I mean you're scared of how you feel about me, love." His voice was warm and velvety, a rich baritone growl just for you to hear. Your eyes widen in recognition of what he's said, lips parted as you struggle to find an answer.
"I...I don't...you're wrong-"
Your mouth and forehead show your confusion, but your watery eyes are in check with your words. You try to speak, to dispute, to reject Aemond's words, but he urges you on, not giving you time to elaborate:
"I am?" He raises an eyebrow and presses for a reaction from you, approaching with slow steps while driving you back in response, until you feel your lower back hit the corner of a reading table. Cornered.
"Y-yes, you are."
He hums thoughtfully, the shadow of a smile stretching the corner of his well-shaped lip almost imperceptibly. Slowly he removes the leather from his eye patch, watching you watch him, watching for any tremor or hesitation. You knew he wouldn't find any of that on your face. You didn't fear that part of him. Seemingly satisfied with your reaction, he returns to tease your sanity with renewed vigor.
"Then do one thing for me, angel?" he mutters a plea, placing both hands on the table around your body, caging you against him. You swallow hard and wait with bated breath as he slowly bends down to your height to try to level your gaze.
"What?" Barely your voice is heard by you, so low and frail.
But Aemond listens. And it demands.
"Look at me now and tell me you don't want me."
A squeaky sound escapes your lips and you feel your face burning with embarrassment at those words, your brows furrowing in an offended frown.
"Y-you shouldn't say those things! It's really arrogant of you!" You're babbling, the redness in your cheeks going down to your breats.
"That's not a negative, angel." Aemond hums in amusement, one hand going up to your face to tuck a damp lock of hair behind your ear, fingers stroking your earlobe with the ghostly pressure of a light sigh. "I need an answer now. Come on baby, it's not that hard. Just tell me if you want me like I want you?" His face is closer now, a gentle glide of nose over the warm skin from your left cheek to your ear. "Ardently," he croaks slowly, the shape of wet lips parting the shell of your ear and a hot breath ruffling your skin, drawing a sigh and an undignified shudder through your entire body. "Relentlessly."
It's fire.
Living fire.
Burning fire.
"I..."
Destroying fire.
Fire that only leaves ash behind.
"I need to know, baby."
He demands and you don't breathe for a few seconds.
He pulls back to look at you again, no more giggles, no jokes at your expense, nothing but absolute seriousness. Just his look. Heavy and intense.
Hungry.
Pure, unadulterated hunger, the power behind his gaze making you throb inside, the heat coursing through you. He looked feral like that; loose hair around the face, pale skin, furrowed brows and bright sapphire. A monster of its own reveals itself to you, working its way from the depths of your mind, a rush of adrenaline shooting through your veins as it breaks free. Begs, begs desperately to make yourself known to him, to return that look with the same fervor.
Because you are monsters from the same horror tale. Matter born of the same misfortune. Made to crash and crumble and burn to the bone together. And maybe, just maybe, rise together from the remaining ashes like a phoenix.
"Yes...yes..."
You're pulled by an arm around your waist before you've even finished whispering, pressing you against his strong body in one swift, deft movement. He's close, so close you can feel the rapid fire of his pulse vibrating through him and into you. So close you can feel the warm outline of his cock pressed snug against your belly. So close that the slightest tilt of your head could have your lips on his…gods, you want to…but he's acting before you can.
Aemond hits you in a kiss. He takes your lips slowly but devours them whole. Hungry. Hard. Longingly. And you surrender unreservedly, feeling nothing like the fearless dragon you knew yourself to be. His teeth are sharp against your lower lip, but you arch into him, offering yourself up like a simple lamb for sacrifice.
Why such surrender? For him? For you? Didn't you know, the lines so blurred you could barely see them at this point. A point of no return.
His movements are an odd mixture of hungry and gentle. Gentle as if savoring you. Hungry like he was always craving more. He licks you greedily, needfully, guiding your head and motions with a firm hand on your jaw.
You couldn't - nor did you want to - do anything but follow his command.
It's breathless and it's passionate. Just pulling apart to share warm breaths, the need for closeness stronger than the need for air. And he's sloppy, your mouths have no rhythm, no real technique, the only give and take is confused sucks and sighs and licks.
Your fingers can tangle in his silver hair now, can pull a little too. You swallow the groan he gives out whole, shudder as the guttural sound reverberates through your entire body, his hand gripping your jaw tighter as he parts your lips and rests his forehead against yours.
"You need to ask me for it." He's panting, breathing heavily into your face, mint and leather enveloping you in a thick mist.
"Ask you...?" You don't understand what he's talking about, you can only focus on the softness of his hair between your fingers and the way he holds you – strong, with need, with security.
"Ask me to fuck you, angel. I said I would only do it when you asked me to. So just..." You whimper softly, moving your hips to show your need to be touched, but he continues to press, "Ask me."
You sniffle, letting out a frustrated sound, pushing yourself against him. The muscles in his arms tighten as you squirm and manage to hover your hips above his thigh, despite how tightly he's gripping your hair at the back of your neck. Aemond hisses, squeezing his eye shut, reveling in just a moment — just a second — in your desperation for him.
He opens his eye again to meet yours, nose to nose. You shudder, limbs crawling around him, teary eyes vibrating with sick desire. He swallows hard, frowning as he looks at you, feeling the naked heat of your intimacy pressed into the leather covering his thigh. Your skin still gleams softly from the wetness of the shower - and his mouth opens, licking his lips to tame the desire.
"Tell me what you want." He is more impatient.
"You. Only you."
His semi-satisfied hum runs through your body, but he wants even more.
"What?" He pants, resting his forehead on your shoulder, resisting temptation with all his might until hear you're begging for this, just like he wants. "Tell me again. Tell me exactly what you want from me, bunny, come on."
You didn't know what he wanted to hear, you groan and try to push your body towards him, but Aemond's grip is heavy and you can barely breathe with the way he presses you against him.
"Aemond!" Your panicked voice, the rapid racing of your heart against your chest, your rapid breathing. Why was he doing this? Did he not want you? Then why?
"What do you want?" He growls, looking at you again. You cry when he comes face to face with you. He leans over you, a dangerous frown on his face as he looks down into your teary, trembling gaze. He still holds your head with a firm grip on the back of your neck, keeping your face fully displayed to him. "Huh? What the fuck do you want, woman?"
He growls, pupil dilated, teeth clenched and all. Scares you a little - a lot actually. But it also feed the monster within you.
"I want you. Please!" You moan, you cry, you beg, feeling another part of you breaking with the confession. But it didn't matter anymore. It didn't matter anymore. “Please look after me, Aemond, please. I need it. I need you so much!"
"Come here, princess" he growls, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Hang on to me. Good girl." He can feel how weak your muscles are, as if you've been trying your hardest physically. They tremble in your effort to cling to him, and he hooks his arms under you, using his strength to propel you into the his body until your legs wrap around his waist.
His feet walk slowly towards the bed. Under his hand on your back, you know he can feel how fast your heart is beating, he can feel the heat radiating off you. You're starting to move again, growing restless after your moment of lucidity, and he takes a deep breath to calm himself when you sink your teeth into his jugular with a groan, sucking out a bruise on his neck.
You didn't know why you did it, it certainly wasn't from any self experience. But the thought of having your mark on his body was too tempting to resist.
“Please fuck me, please, no matter where,” you murmur in his ear, hugging him like a koala.
"Fuck, woman, can't you see I'm trying to do this right?" His fingers slide between the slit in your ass, the wet slik of your arousal where he rests his fingers on your inner thigh, the mantle that covered you now almost completely open. "Behave yourself, brat." Ignoring his warning, your pussy slides and slides across his abdomen, and it's undeniable that he can feel how fucking wet you are. He almost stumbles on his way through the rooms to the huge bed and all you can think about is how it will feel to absolutely melt with his cock inside you.
Your knees drag up his sides, your mouth sucking and puffing on his neck and shoulder, hips squeezing uncontrollably. “Aemond…! ”
He slaps your ass before you can finish your sentence. You gasp in fright, pulling back from his already scarred neck to give him a shocked look, though your popped pupils and heavy lids really don't help matters. He shoots you a warning look back, digging his fingers into the fat on your ass after the slap.
“Stop whining,” he growls, pulling you even closer against him. It's easy when your leaking pussy makes his stomach slide over you like silk. “I'll fuck you in our bed or I won't fuck you at all, got it?” It's an empty threat. At least you think you are. He didn't wait until now to deny you that, did he?
You wouldn't risk it.
You nod quickly, leaning in to kiss him awkwardly, muttering an apology against his cheek.
Pathetic.
Without any ceremony he throws you on the bed and you stop a disappointed meow from coming out of your lips when you feel physically separated from him again. You sit on the bed, looking at the form of him standing watching you in the same way that Raughan watched the sheep before he charged.
"Take it off." he demands, nodding to the robe that barely covered your body. You want to retort, you want to say no; for the simple pleasure of disobeying an order from him. But even as you're thinking about it, your fingers are already tugging at the fabric's strings, hurriedly pulling it out of your body as if the object itself has burned your skin.
You fall back onto your messy sheets with a sigh, and Aemond watches you as you shift in your nakedness, moaning softly and getting as comfortable as you can, dragging yourself up in bed in a slovenly attempt to keep warm despite the fact that you are boiling.
“Aemond,” you sob, reaching for him, watery eyes peeking out from under long, damp lashes. "Please?"
"Yes angel?" He sings, husky and soft, lowering himself over your body until he's against your supple mouth, using his knees to spread your limp legs apart. Even though he's still wearing his pants, you can perfectly feel the contour of his cock dragging your thigh, as hot and aching as you are. You nod, your eyes have never opened completely since you laid in your bed. "Do you want me to help you?" His question elicits a groan from you, his hips squirming forward against you at the sound.
"I need this, please..." you pant, head falling back, sweaty palms, chanting those words in a smooth, drunken whisper, over and over mingled with his name and trembling thighs squeezing his hips. Aemond hums, kissing your breasts, baring an arm around your waist as you arch as he trails his tongue around your nipples, sucks and gently kisses your damp skin. You whimper and push your hips against him, rocking with each kiss, his cock trapped and pulsing between you.
"Relax," he whispers again, kissing your chest, stroking your diaphragm. “Breathe, love. Breathe for me." He swallows and takes a deep breath, something you try to mirror. He sighs against your stomach, but it's clear how his mouth is watering just thinking about tasting you. He can smell your scent of him, strong and sweet. He swallows, frowning against your belly, the lower he descends, the more anxious he gets.
He sucks kisses against your hips and below your navel as he continues to center himself with his own breaths, but it doesn't seem to be working so well for you. Your hands fist and tug at his hair, you squirm beneath him, your chest rising with your uneven pants.
He takes a deep breath through his nose, a noise of surprise and approval. His eyes are fixed on your pussy, folds glistening from how wet you already are for him. He licks his lips mindlessly, one hand running down your inner thigh - slowly, like he's expecting you to stop him at any moment. But you don't, of course, you want him so badly. You have no idea how long you've been craving - needing - his touch, but you know you can't wait any longer.
"Beautiful," he murmurs softly as his fingers finally find your folds, which he eagerly opens you with two nimble fingers.
Makes you squeal and hide your face in embarrassment as he scrutinizes you; analyze every detail. The way your entrance squeezes every now and then, drooling your sweet juices, to your little clit that throbs and begs for his attention.
He is more than willing to give.
Gathering the smudge at your entrance with his thumb, he drags it down to the tender little bud. The sound you make when he finally presses his thumb against it is heaven for him. His own mouth opens as he makes smooth, slow circles. It's all so profanely erotic. Your thighs tremble and your hands clutch mindlessly for whatever they can, which happens to be your bedding and his hair. Although your nails bit deeply into his skin, he doesn't seem to mind. He is delighted with how messy your pussy gets in a matter of seconds. Such a simple touch makes your body respond beautifully.
His breath audibly hitches as he replaces his finger with parted lips that slide across your wet spot. It is spread all over your mound, in the crease of your thighs. You feel like you're a mess, and he eagerly presses his face against you, opening his mouth to gently suck in whatever arousal he can muster up. He savors not just the taste of you, but the wet heat of your desire, and he groans softly against your skin. You immediately scream, both hands now tangled tightly in his hair. Stardust scattering behind your eyes as you arch like a possessed off the cushions, curling around him, pressing that wonderful mouth to you with a trembling hand as he knocks you over completely. He hums at the sensation and his whole body contracts.
“Aemond…” you sigh, one hand leaving his hair to reach between your body. He keeps his mouth on your tiny clit, humming as your hand carefully wraps around his wrist, "I want more please..."
Your violet eye almost rolls back in its head at the sweet sound of you begging. He finally pulls his mouth away and looks at you, eye sharp as ever, "Tell me what you want."
He can feel it, you know he can. The way your small hand desperately pushes against his fingers, indicating that all he needs to do is slide them inside. You carelessly rub your hips against his fingers and he growls.
"Didn't I tell you to behave?"
“I'm sorry,” you sigh, “Please don't stop, Aemond. I want this so much. It's so good! I'll be good."
He hums happily, groaning hoarsely at your submission, drinking in your desperation for him. "Well...now, tell me what do you want? Say it," he orders, his voice much softer than before.
“Put them in…” you press his fingers against your entrance and complain, “Inside. Please?"
He immediately complies, not provoking further, his finger pushing between your slick folds and into the welcoming warmth of your entrance. You moan loudly, a sigh following the noise as he easily added another finger. Your sticky walls contract and stretch to accommodate it.
You're already dripping on his hand. He moves his fingers slowly, watching your face intently as you adjust to be filled. He pumps his fingers in and out in a smooth, careful rhythm, letting you get used to the size of him, knowing you've never had anything inside you that big. He makes sure he presses his fingers deep enough that each time you feel the cool edges of the ring he wears.
He's so tuned in to you, so aware of every noise that comes out of your lips and every movement of your hips, your limbs, that it doesn't take him long to figure out which actions elicit the most favorable reactions from you.
He plays your body with all the skill and practices the ease of a seasoned musician, his fingers pumping inside you and curving with each thrust, a kind of delirious pleasure making your head swim and thoughts drown in a haze as you fell from your parted lips uncontrollably.
You were getting close, so close, high above the horizon as pleasure tingled in your limbs and down your spine. You're mumbling nonsense, feet kicking the bed helplessly. For a brief moment you fear being scolded for moving so much, but you hope Aemond understands that you can't help it.
"Oh, little angel, are you close?Come on, don't hold back. I want you to come for me."
With how hard you feel you're squeezing his fingers, you know you're teetering precariously on that ledge. All you need is one final push. The fact that you need him to send you around, need him to do something for you to come is a rush that leaves a cold feeling in your stomach. You need him. And he doesn't disappoint.
You open your eyes just in time to watch with wide eyes as he suddenly purses his lips and noisily spits into your pussy. It lands on your clit and within seconds his thumb is rubbing it.
The whole thing is too much for you to process and you come with a gasping cry. His arm pins your hips down, preventing you from moving too much as you thrash around, coming hard for him as he works you.
"That's it. You look so beautiful when you come, bunny. You make me want you so fucking much." He encourages you as he pulls his fingers in and out and make lightly circles your clit, easing you as you shudder and whimper before finally collapsing gasping and shaky onto the bed.
So good.
So willing.
Everything for him.
That's all for him.
Your eyes dropped, just looking at Aemond through slitted lids. It was clear from the smug smile that he reveled in your dazed state.
For him.
Aemond lifted his hand to suck the juice you let run between his fingers, making sure he had your watchful eye.
You watched, cheeks flushed and lips parted in embarrassment, but you couldn't look away throughout the entire spectacle. You even followed him with your hands when he got up, terrified that he would walk away. But his other hand caressed your cheek to soothe you and you meekly closed your eyes at the gentle touch. His pants, which are actually the only clothes he's still wearing, were literally ripped from his body, as he couldn't bring himself to walk away from you. Not anymore, not after your sweet submission.
The torn cloth hanging over the edge of the bed, forgotten until tomorrow. His arms wrapped around you, bringing you up and letting you sit on his lap as he adjusted himself to sit where you were.
Your hands, your small hands planted on his abdomen, feeling the tight muscles of his stomach. But Aemond coaxed you into a hug, which you accepted by hiding your face in his neck, your arms around his waist. While his hands were just on the back of your neck and on your waist. “If someone asked me what I would do if I had the chance to change something about you...” His hands start pressing and emphasizing certain muscles in your shoulders, then massaging your back. “I would kill them on the spot.”
"Why that?" You asked softly in his ear and he sighed audibly with a small groan. His big hands finally reached your buttocks, his fingers digging into flesh and muscle and fat. Aemond tilted his head to the side, pressing a kiss to your temple.
“They don't deserve to live. Idiots who think you still lacks a certain aspect. They don't deserve to breathe the air you breathe." He growled in response, arranging his legs so they were bent and spreading yours as well. His hands cupped your thighs to pull your down, bringing your still quivering pussy to his throbbing cock.
"If you let me…" he continues whispering into your hair as you struggle not to get lost in the pleasure and at the same time digest the depth of his words. "I just…if I can only have one thing at the end of it all…I want you. I always have. Just you."
Your head shifted from his neck to face him, feeling so exposed, absurdly exposed. And so fragile. More than at any time in your life.
"Aemond..." You whisper, wanting to be able to formulate a response sentence. "Take what you want - take it all, it's yours", you tell him, sealing it with a soft, light kiss - a pact.
Aemond's violet gaze - now almost black - an ancient fire burning with secrets, pierces yours, urging, promising everything, offering himself for you. Hungry, needy.
“Relax for me now, little angel.” he says, finishing the matter, stroking your hair as his hips thrust up gently against yours, the tip of his cock teasing your and becoming slick with the wetness that dripped even though he didn't enter. He just did it a few times; hooking the tip and not letting it in. And he's just like you remembered him - thick, long and wet.
“Do you want me, little one?” He murmurs, his voice so low and full of desire it makes your heart race against your rib cage and your stomach churn. You whimper, hips rolling in a silent plea, as he smiles almost affectionately at you in a way that completely contrasts with his words. "Do you want my cock, angel? You want me to fuck you here, in our bed, and fill you up so full of my cum that it leaks all over the sheets?"
“Oh, please,” you whimpered, your voice low and breathless as you tried to plead with your eyes. “Yes, fuck, Aemond, please—”
"I want this," he continued, hips rolling again so that the tip of his cock was pressing temptingly against your entrance, making you moan as his head lowered and he placed scorching kisses along the column of your already abused throat. “I want to fuck you with my cum, fill you so deep you'll be leaking on it for days.”
Your loud whimpers echo and steadily increase in volume after words from him, and Aemond still hadn't entered. But mercifully, the man's face softened at the edges as he looked down at your frustrated countenance which had an adorable pout. His arms wrapped around your waist, caressing the top of your head before pushing your hips down, his cock finally sliding inside your welcoming heat, his girth and sheer length would have ripped through your walls like a knife if he hadn't prepared you, you have certainty. But it still hurts, of course. The stretch seems absurdly long and you feel it from beginning to end. Stretching, pushing, burning, forcing a place inside you.
It hurts, but you welcome the pain like an old friend. An addictive burn blurring your senses as he stretches you, much wider than you'd ever imagined. You scream aloud, arching your back, and Aemond takes the opportunity to release a shuddering breath at the base of your throat and continues his way inside you.
Your head swims in the heady pleasure of each slow movement of his hips inside you, your thighs quivering as your abdomen tightens and clenches. And when you gather enough strength to look down to where your bodies are joined, you can glimpse a faintly pink mixture of your own juices and your blood enveloping the length of Aemond's cock. A dirty, sinful sight that you absolutely adore.
He also notices, knows the exact moment he claimed the last innocent part that was left of you.
"Fuck...bunny, that's a fucking sight, huh..." He's panting hot into your body, forehead resting on your shoulder as he looks down now at the mess of you two. An almost frightening smile stretching his lips; his one good eye gleaming with pride and smugness.
You're so sensitive, the sensations so strong tearing through your body, you can't even muster the strength to respond. Aemond takes the opportunity to suck more bruises over the bulge of your collarbone and chest as he fucks you, and you find yourself painfully and deeply aware of the way his silky cock drags against your velvet walls with each thrust, and the way it pulses inside you.
Moans come uncontrollably from your parted lips, mouth open, and you throw your head back as you feel his big hands grip your ass cheeks, forcing your body to bounce into his faster and faster.
You're a panting, whimpering mess in no time, your stomach tensing and starting to churn once more. You moan, hips tense, as pleasure takes you hotly, curling into your abdomen and up your spine. There was a fog hovering over your mind and you succumbed to it anxiously, focusing only on the incredible feelings and sensations Aemond was stirring within you.
You're both so tense you're not sure either of you will last long.
And then he's grabbing your body tightly and flipping you both onto the bed, pinning you against the sheets in one fluid motion as he positions himself above you; the pulsing heat of him re-entering your swollen, aching flesh makes you both moan together.
He doesn't miss a beat, his face creased in concentration and pleasure, blue stone contrasting with the subtle pink on his cheeks, strands of silver sticking to his divine sweaty face. His hips rock against yours in a relentless rhythm, to the point where the headboard of the bed hits the wall behind you with a loud, steady thud, somewhat muffling the awkward sound of your bodies bumping into each other.
You try to match his strongest thrusts, cupping his face as you try to pepper him with kisses through your moans. His own hand comes up to tangle your hair and tilt your head back so he can kiss your chin and neck. He pushes into you hard enough that your body slides up onto the bed. The scratch of fabric on your back is delicious.
His other hand travels up to your hip to hold you down as he pierces you harder than last time. You are overwhelmed with feeling. The feel of Aemond's hot breath against your jaw. The feel of his fingers in your hair squeezing hard. The burning sensation of his cock entering you over and over again and his pelvis dragging against your swollen clit. Your eyes meet before your lashes flutter shut as you unreservedly surrender control to him.
He's pushing faster now, harder and harder, hitting you fiercely. You try to rock your hips against him, but his fingers on your hips tighten to keep you in place as he sets and maintains the maddening rhythm.
The dirty noise of him fucking your heat is only broken by your curses and reverent sighs of his name. Aemond is also losing control; your name falls from his lips, “Fuck, y/n. Fuck. Shit. Seven hells-"
He fucks and grinds like a man gone mad, slamming his mouth to yours to hide the animalistic sounds coming out of him. It's is wild, dirty, humiliating and very wet. Nothing you - the innocent princess you were once created to be - imagined you would like. But absolutely everything you - the hardened and damaged woman of now - needed.
“Aemond!” you scream. The world is cracking. Everything is imploding together and you feel a chilling sensation. Something is going to go wrong. Adrenaline is pumping through your veins. Your heart is beating much faster than what is considered healthy. The world is spinning. Everything starts to fall and your breathing quickens and you think you're going to fall. You think it will fall apart.
But then Aemond linked your fingers between his, trapping by the side of your head in a firm grip. "I have you, little angel," he whispers. "I have you." A kiss is pressed to your neck. And yes, yes it does.
Aemond has you.
A few more well-placed thrusts, his lips lifting so his teeth can bite down on your bottom lip, and you're convulsing around his cock as you scream his name. This orgasm even more intense than the first, rattling your bones.
Aemond curses and growls as he feels your pussy tightening on his cock, seeming unable to contain himself any longer. You watch through squinted eyes the way he frowns in an almost pained way, moaning hard into your mouth, and you feel pure heat shooting up inside you, spreading thick and sticky in your lower stomach before merging with the rest of your body.
Aemond presses his forehead against yours, sharing your breaths and looking into your eyes as the two of you slowly descend from your heights. Both are shaking - you clearly more.
Very slowly, he releases his death grip on your hip and brings his hand to your face, stroking his thumb over your cheek and wiping away the tears of pleasure you didn't even realize you'd let fall.
Aemond wraps your trembling, frail fingers tighter between his - oh, so much bigger - holding and gently squeezing, even if your answering grip is momentarily weak and lethargic. He pulls them to press against his chest, right above his racing heart. You can feel the muscle pulsing fast through your fingers.
"Sore?" he asks quietly, tracing with lilac eye the bruises that are starting to show vividly on your skin - not really looking sorry he's done any of them.
"A little, but in a way..." You couldn't find the words, a rare thing indeed, but Aemond always seemed to understand what you wanted to say - including those times when even you didn't understand yourself.
With that you feel your heart start to chip. There is no reason for the sudden feeling. You clear your throat, making your grip on Aemond's hand less lax. Indeed, you intertwine your fingers with purpose. You said you'd try to make it work if he agreed to live in Dragonstone with you, right? That was trying, wasn't it?
Aemond smiles - a short, breathless laugh without real grace - pulling you back to him and kissing you on the mouth, as if he knows something you don't. Your heart starts to pound when you feels the edge of his laughter on your lips. Warm, moist lips; pulling, sucking, biting and licking. Everything gets a little blurry, melting, until his arms wrap around you and you feel yourself being pulled deeper and deeper, and that's when you're reminded once again that you can feel. What? You do not know. But you know that all you want is for that warm, good feeling to become part of you, as it once was. Or as close as possible to that.
When both lips part, Aemond is out of breath, flying in heavy measure just like you are, and you honestly don't think you can like Aemond Targaryen any more than you possibly do at this moment. You don't feel like you'll ever know anything remotely like happiness any more than what you're experiencing right now.
Because in the morning when you both wake up in this bed, and every morning after that, you know you'll be leaving another part of yourself here with him - what's left to give when you've already given him all you've got.
And you think; someday I will...
One day, yes, we...
.....
One day we will...
Will we be whole again?
You hoped so.
It would be a long way. A very long way. It looked like you both had scars to heal, feelings to clean up.
a/n: so uh this is a sequel to vixen but can be read as a standalone, but is also a request from @fairysluna hehe enjoy my loves ❤️
Summary: You learn that Aemond's chambermaid was indeed right about what she saw.
TW: canon typical incest, profanity, innuendo, she/her pronouns, reader being a menace, face sitting, oral f receiving, begging, slight dom reader, tiddy succin, p in v s*x, edging
Word Count: 2,650 words
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.
“She said you’re very,” you lean forward, your lips nearly brushing against his own as you whisper, “Well-endowed.”
Aemond’s eye goes wide and he feels what is almost an electric shock go up his spine as your lips nearly brush against his, his length painfully hard as he stares at you. He’s silent for a long moment and so are you, the two of you just staring at each other, eyes ablaze with desire, breathing heavy, until he breaks the silence.
“Would you like to see for yourself, little niece?”
You look up at him, your voice a breathy whisper as you respond, “Yes, kepus. I would.”
Aemond leans in closer, his voice a near rasp as he whispers, “You’d like me to show you what my chambermaid was referring to?”
You gaze up at Aemond, a mischievous look in your eyes as you nod, “Very much so, kepus.”
Aemond feels his breath grow heavier, wondering how it is you’re able to know exactly what to say and exactly when to say it to drive him utterly mad. He moves to whisper in your ear, lips barely grazing against your skin, “You want me to show you right now?”
“Yes,” you affirm, “Now.”
Aemond can hardly believe his ears, that you would be so very bold with him. So direct. And the thought of it is so enticing. Of giving in to you, of giving into this desire he has for you that’s been building over the course of the last few months.
“Very well,” he murmurs, his heart beating like a drum in his chest as he begins to remove his tunic, tossing it aside.
You gaze at his bare chest, his abdomen, so lean and muscular, and bite your lips at the sight, humming your satisfaction with what you’re seeing. Spurred on by your reaction, Aemond continues to undress, removing his breeches, his heart beating faster and faster, leaving the poor man a nervous wreck. But he refuses to show weakness in front of you now and risk losing your interest. He bares himself completely before you and you aren’t disappointed in the least at what you see, his impressive length, hard and weeping for you. You’ve clearly had quite the effect on him.
“What do you think, little niece?” he asks, “Is it everything you had hoped it would be?”
Your eyes move along his bare form before you return your gaze to his blue eye, staring up at him with an almost hungry look, “Well, it appears your chambermaid was telling the truth. If anything,” you give a furtive glance at his length before smirking to yourself, “She underplayed it.”
“Underplayed it,” Aemond breathes in disbelief, moving to stand in front of you, still staring down at you, “I can only assume you would like to feel it to confirm your suspicions.”
His heart feels like it’s about to explode when you giggle and take a step closer to him, “That is a big assumption, Uncle, but an accurate one.”
“Accurate indeed,” he pauses, “So then are you saying you want to feel?”
“I am,” you bite your lip, gazing up at him, “Would you like to see me as well, Uncle?”
Yes! Is that even a question? Gods, I’ve never wanted something - someone badly in my entire life… But I must maintain my cool, Aemond thinks to himself before speaking slowly, the corners of his lips turning up into a little grin, “Hm. That depends, what would I see?”
You grin at him teasingly before whispering, “I think you know exactly what it is you’d see.”
“I may have a general idea, but please tell me,” he breathes, his heart beating faster and faster as he wonders how you manage to say just enough to tempt and tease him, the little vixen that you are.
“It’s quite unladylike of me to come out and say it,” you tease, fiddling with the laces of your bodice.
Gods, such a little tease, Aemond thinks as he watches your fingers, entranced by how you play with the laces, “Well, if it’s unladylike for you to speak the words, perhaps you ought to just show me.”
“Is that what you want, Uncle? To see me?”
“Very much so,” he repeats your earlier sentiment as he rests his forehead against yours, “Please…”
Aemond watches, his eye rapt with attention as you tug at the lace, undoing it completely. Then, his eyes move to your shoulder as you slowly shrug one of the sleeves of your gown off, the sight of your bare skin nearly driving him mad with desire.
“Go on,” he whispers, “Show me more.”
“Should I?” you muse, averting your gaze and feigning shyness, “It’s entirely improper, Uncle.”
Why are you still playing this game? You must know I want this more than anything, Aemond shakes his head before speaking, “It is entirely improper, little niece, but you want to. You must show me as I have showed you.”
You hum to yourself before baring your other shoulder, giving him a deceptively sweet smile, “I suppose it’s only fair…”
Aemond’s eye is fixed on your shoulders, your collarbones, the skin of your neck, even just this alone is enough to make the man feel nearly feral with need. And it’s even worse when you let the dress fall to the ground, leaving you completely bare before him.
“My little vixen,” he whispers, feeling a heat rising up in him like he’s never known, “You really are a temptress, aren’t you?”
He takes in the sight of your legs, your waist, your chest, he can hardly contain the need he feels for you at seeing you exposed like this. And it’s even worse when you step closer to him, your voice a low purr.
“Do you like what you see?”
Like? Like doesn’t begin to do justice to how he feels about what he sees. It’s far too weak of a word. He loves what he sees and is overcome by his desire to have you, and he voices as much.
“I love what I see,” he mumbles, moving his hands to rest on your hips, nearly groaning at just the feeling of touching your bare skin, “You… You are… Gods, you are beautiful.”
You press yourself against him, chest to chest, placing a delicate, feather-light kiss at the hollow of his throat, “And that? Do you like that?”
He draws in a sharp breath at the feeling of your lips on his skin, feeling like his entire being is on fire at your touch, barely managing to speak, “Your kiss is perfect. Like the kiss of a goddess.”
“If I’m your goddess,” you ask, your lips trailing down to his chest, kissing him, feeling him shiver against your touch, “Will you worship me?”
Aemond’s eye closes and he lets out a groan as you take one of his nipples in your mouth, rolling your tongue over it before nipping at it, his grip on your hips tightening ever so slightly, “I will worship everything about you.”
You’re driving him to madness, Aemond’s quite sure, he feels like he’s being devoured by flames. He needs you, to hold you, to be with you forever. His mind is a scattered cacophony of pleas for you to be his. He startles slightly when you push him back onto the bed, giving him an almost feline-like grin.
“Shall I make your face my throne then, Uncle? So you may worship me properly?”
“I,” he barely manages to choke out as you crawl over him, kissing a trail from his stomach, up to his chest, to his neck, then hovering over his lips, waiting for his answer, “I would be honored, my little vixen. My goddess.”
You grin at his acquiescence and move to straddle his face, your hands gripping the bed’s headboard as you lower your core against his lips. Aemond’s hands move to grip your thighs, groaning as he’s finally able to taste you. He squeezes the supple flesh of your thighs, moving his tongue against you desperately as you ride his face, whimpering every time his nose brushes against your pearl. Aemond makes sure to press his nose there, moving against you just as you move against him, making you cry out his name in ecstasy, the feeling of his tongue moving in and out of you making that coil in your stomach begin to wind, faster than it ever has with just your own fingers. Aemond’s hands move to your backside, squeezing and caressing you as you rut against his lips, nearly screaming when he moves to nip at your pearl, sending you over the edge from the slight sting. And the sounds he makes, the slurping and moaning as he tastes your arousal have you wanting him again already.
You move off of him, straddling his waist once again as you coo, “What an excellent throne you were for your goddess.”
“Goddess,” he whispers in disbelief, his breath heavy as he stares at you, “You are… Divine, my little vixen,” his eye fixes on you with equal parts awe and desire as he asks hopefully, “Have I pleased my goddess?”
“You have, sweet one,” you kiss his jawline, giving him a coy smile, “How did I taste?”
“Like heaven,” Aemond replies, wrapping his arms around your back as you continue to kiss him, and his words sound as though, “Like the sweetest honey, the most delicious wine, gods,” he trails off, his voice breathless with desire as he gazes up at you, “Goddess, I am at your command.”
You remove his eyepatch, running your fingers gently along the expanse of his scar, making him shiver from the sheer intimacy of the moment, the fact that you, his beautiful vixen, his goddess, are not shying away from the sight of his injury, but rather giving him attention for it. He closes his eye at your touch, leaning into it, your soft, soft fingertips giving him the affection he so desperately craves from you.
“Do you wish to take me, Aemond?” you question, resting your hand against his cheek, “Do you wish to make me yours?”
“More than anything in the world,” Aemond whispers, his voice growing more breathless with each word, “Please, I’ve never desired anything more than to make you mine.”
You lean in, your lips nearly brushing against his as you whisper, “Then beg me.”
Aemond doesn’t even hesitate, “I beg you, please I am begging you to become mine. You are all I desire, all I want, please my goddess, I beg you, I’ll do anything for you-”
You grind yourself against his length, making him let out a strangled moan as you rake your nails down his chest, “You can beg better than that.”
“Please, goddess,” Aemond pants desperately, “I will do anything for you, whatever you wish, but please, please be mine. I need you. You drive me to the brink of madness and I can’t bear it any longer,” he whispers, “I am begging you for mercy.”
You giggle, “You’re so cute when you beg.”
“I,” he sputters, “I am not cute! I am a powerful man, a prince of the realm, I can’t be cute-”
Aemond’s words stop and he lets out a low moan as you sink yourself down onto his length, letting out a mewl of his name as he fills you perfectly. You stay still like that for a moment, allowing yourself to grow accustomed to the feeling of him inside of you. And it’s everything you’d hoped for. And judging by the blissful expression on Aemond’s face, the man seems like he’s in the seven heavens.
You shake your head at him, leaning in slightly, “You’re adorable.”
His eye widens in disbelief. Are you mocking him? Surely not… But yet…
He draws in a low and shaky breath as he mumbles, “I may enjoy being adorable but only for you.”
“My adorable little prince,” you purr as you begin moving against him.
He fills you up so perfectly, you realize, every time you sink back down onto his length it feels like he’s very nearly splitting you in two. And it’s incredible. You feel yourself squeezing around him, loving the way his body reacts to yours, how he shivers with every kiss, how he holds your hips, urging you to move faster, his hands squeezing the plump flesh of your bottom. He groans at the feeling of you bouncing up and down on him, leaning up to press a kiss to your neck, one of his hands moving to rest on your back. He kisses your chest, taking one of your pebbled peaks into your mouth, licking and sucking at the sensitive bud, making you squeeze around him even tighter, the sensation driving him wild.
“Your adorable prince,” he whispers back heatedly, “Anything my goddess wishes me to be.”
You increase your speed, making him let out a loud moan of your name against your skin before moving to your other bud, lavishing it with the same attention he gave the other.
“Do you love me, Aemond?” you coo in his ear.
“More than anyone, more than anything,” he breathes against you, his true feelings spilling forth from his lips with abandon, “I love you with all my heart. I would kill for you, I would die for you, I worship you. I am yours. Everything I am is yours.”
A whine bursts forth from his lips as you slow your movements, and you speak, “Beg for me to love you.”
The little vixen is still playing games, he thinks to himself indignantly before abandoning any pride he may have left before you and pleading, “Please, please love me. I beg you, my goddess, for I love you. I need you as I need to breathe.”
“Do you wish to marry me, sweet Aemond?” you grin, still moving languorously slowly, “Do you wish to spill your seed inside me? To watch me grow round with your babe?”
“Yes,” he whimpers, “I want it more than anything. I want to marry you. To fill you with my seed over and over, to watch you grow round with my babe knowing it was me who put it in your belly. To share my life with you, to have you-”
“To have me?” you tease, leaning in to kiss him before whispering, “It is I who has you.”
“My goddess, you do,” Aemond breathes out between kisses as you quicken your movements once again, “I am yours, do what you wish with me.You own my body, my heart, my mind, my soul. I am yours to command, my vixen. I am your slave.”
“Then spill yourself inside me,” you whisper, nipping at his earlobe, moving even faster, impaling yourself on him over and over, feeling him hit that spot inside you that makes you see stars, “I’m close. Come with me.”
And with one more snap of your hips, you reach your peak, squeezing him impossibly tight, feeling so perfect around him that he spills himself deep inside you, the only noise in the room being his moans of your name, his declarations of love and devotion for you.
The two of you fall backwards onto the bed, Aemond’s arms wrapped around you, your legs entwined as he holds you close to him, kissing your forehead tenderly.
“Do you truly love me and wish to marry me?” you ask him, your voice uncharacteristically serious.
“With all my heart my goddess,” Aemond affirms, “My vixen.”
“I love you too, sweet Aemond.”
Aemond doesn’t think he’s ever been so happy in his entire life. He presses a kiss to your forehead, then your nose, then your lips, promising that come tomorrow, the two of you will be betrothed. And you find yourself completely happy with the prospect, falling asleep in his arms.
summary: Raised among wolves, and raised among dragons; throughout time Targaryens and Starks seem to find their way to each other.
warnings: mentions of death
word count: 2.3k
note: this is mostly fluff! enjoy my loves 💙
You had been a small child when your father died; when your elder brother Cregan was named Lord of Winterfell, Warden of the North. Though he was just a boy of three and ten at the time. You remembered the funeral of your father, the way Cregan held your small hand in his own.
“You need to be brave, sister,” Cregan had whispered in your ear.
Your eyes were wide as saucers, gazing upon the still body of your father. You expected his chest to rise and fall, as though he were simply in a deep sleep. He remained motionless. You had only seen one other corpse in your life, that of your mother.
The image of her flashes in your mind. Beautiful, wild, and gone. Petals in the wind. Your father would lay beside her for eternity in the crypts of Winterfell. The thought comforted you, your parents in the earth below you, and your brother. Simply sleeping beneath the mighty fortress of Winterfell.
Cregan squeezes your hand.
Your uncle, Bennard Stark, was to rule as regent until Cregan came of age. A feat that does not bode well when Cregan reaches adulthood. But Bennard succeeds nonetheless.
You grow alongside your brother, both of you fierce, both of you spitting images of the First Men. Both are haunted by the ghosts of wolves before you. You and Cregan are one and the same until you come into your maidenhood.
That is when things seem to change between you, suddenly you are thrust into the role of a soon-to-be mother, though still unwed. Lords vie for your hand, present themselves to your brother for the chance to bed, and breed you like a prize mare. You are having none of that.
“Lord Umber is a fine choice!” Cregan yells, running after you as you flee from the great hall.
“You heathen!” you snap at your brother.
You stop, causing Cregan to nearly run into you, glaring at your brother.
“You’d ship me off to Last Hearth, is that it?” you accuse, “who’d do your booking then hmm?”
Cregan flushes with embarrassment.
“I’d make do without you,” he says.
“You’re shit at bookkeeping,” you accuse.
“You’re a lady, it’s your duty-”
“My duty!” you scoff, “How very convenient to you!”
Cregan frowns, visibly frustrated by your angry disposition.
“You like Lord Umber.”
You look at him incredulously.
“He is my friend, Cregan, it does not mean I wish to bed him.”
“Sister, you must listen!”
But you are off already, across the yard, angry tears wet on your face. They do not last long as you hastily wipe them, crystalized in the cold air they fly like diamonds to the gravel below.
The news comes to Winterfell when House Stark is invited to the capital to represent the North at King Viserys nameday. Evidently, all the great houses are to feast in the capital, with tourneys and celebrations to last for several days.
“Allow me to represent our house, and when I return I shall not fuss about marrying Lord Umber,” you tell him, bile rising in your throat as you panic at the thought.
Cregan senses your hesitation. Brothers are like that, sensing your lies.
“You shall?” he asks.
You roll your eyes.
“I shall.”
The journey to King’s Landing is long and tiresome, taking the better part of a month. Layers of clothing are shed the closer you get to the capital, as the air around you warms, snow melts and flowers bloom. It is as though you are blooming as well, pushing through the soil and towards the sun.
You are presented at court, as unwed ladies often are, to the king and the royal family. Though King Viserys is not in attendance, represented by the Hand instead.
The first of the festivities you attend is a tourney.
“You do not wish to participate, my prince?” you ask, out of courtesy.
“I do not care for tourneys, my lady,” the one-eyed prince tells you, “I believe them to be a foolish waste of time.”
You smile slightly at his honesty.
“They are said to prepare men for the battlefield,” you tell him, “though I do not know whose enemy would wait for his opponent to pick up his sword.”
Aemond glances at you as you take a sip from your cup. He glances at the tourney field, understanding your jest as he observes two knights waiting to fight. A flicker of a smile appears on his chiseled face.
“Most knights simply wish for the attention of those of court,” Aemonn tells you, “Fame and glory; to be a page in a song.”
“To have the favor of a pretty girl,” you agree.
Aemond looks at you once more. A pretty girl. You meet his eye, smiling. Aemond looks away quickly, clearing his throat.
“Have any of these knights won your favor, my lady?” Aemond asks.
You shake your head.
“No, I am afraid not,” you tell him, “I prefer a real warrior to a pretender.”
Aemond watches as you excuse yourself and walk away, a curious expression on his face.
The feast later that evening is boisterous and full of merriment and delight. It makes you miss home, an ache appears in your chest that you cannot shake. No matter how many lords you dance with, how many ladies you chat with. Though you wished for an escape, you so miss the walls of Winterfell. Cregan’s hand in yours. Perhaps he is right. Perhaps the North is where you belong. Winterfell, Last Hearth. Did it matter which castle, truly?
“My lady,” the voice of Prince Aemond pulls you gently from your thoughts.
He is kind, you can tell. Though his exterior is cold, reptilian almost. Like the snakes that slither in the greenhouses of Winterfell, searching for warmth and life in the frozen ground. Simply trying to survive. Aemond bows to you, offering his hand, violet eye scanning your face.
You want to ask him about it. But you bite his tongue. You know all too well how people enjoy poking the bruises of others, teasing out the memories of pain a person holds inside them simply for their own selfish curiosity. You shall not be like them.
You take his hand and allow him to lead you to the dance floor. You cling to the young prince for the rest of the evening, finding calm in his cool presence. It is nice, standing beside him feeling as though there is no silence you need to fill. Feeling as though he simply enjoys that you are there.
When you return to your chambers, a blue winter rose rests its petals on your pillow. You pick up the flower, inspecting it carefully between your fingers, the cerulean petals catching the moonlight. A reminder of home.
The remainder of your visit to the capital is spent on Prince Aemond’s arm. In the library, on walks through the gardens. He even entertains your passion for hawking, joining you as you travel into the Kingswood. It is nice to have a friend among so many dragons. Someone to talk to, someone who enjoys your company.
As the days pass, you have collected a bouquet of winter roses; they sit beside your bed in a glass vase, the first flower only just beginning to lose its petals. They scatter across your chambers like freshly fallen snow.
A raven arrives, confirming your brother’s visit to the capital. Cregan is often impatient and comes to the conclusion that he must join his sweet sister in the capital, bringing Lord Umber with him. A determined pup, your elder brother can be.
Aemond senses a shift within you as you wait in anticipation, though he cannot quite figure out what the cause is. When your brother arrives, you avoid his presentation at court entirely. Though Cregan is relentless, and spots you as you attempt to escape to the gardens. In your haste, you nearly run into Aemond. You clasp his arm.
“Quickly,” you say nervously, shifting on your feet, “I must go, quickly.”
“It is your brother,” Aemond says, looking over your shoulder, “why do you wish to run from him? Have you not missed him this time apart?”
Aemond knows you have been missing him, missing home. It is why he took such care with the flowers left in your chambers. He had enlisted Helaena for help; winter roses are fickle plants that require delicate care outside of the North.
“Of course I have,” you tell him, trying but failing to hide behind his tall frame.
Aemond smiles slightly as you grab his arm. Cregan has spotted you, a determined grin on his face. Lord Umber has joined him on his journey to King’s Landing. He has brought the wedding to you. There’s nowhere to run anymore.
“Then why do you hide little wolf?” Aemond asks, chuckling.
“He wishes to marry me off,” you tell the prince, “ship me off to Last Hearth.”
Aemond’s face falls slightly, he glances over his shoulder as your brother comes closer with each passing second. Aemond turns back to you, eye scanning the distressed expression on your face.
You bring your gaze back to the prince, an idea coming to you.
“My prince,” you say suddenly, “do you trust me?”
Aemond frowns, not fully understanding what you are asking.
“Of course my lady-”
“Then kiss me.”
Aemond’s jaw slacks as he looks into your eyes.
“Quickly, please,” you beg, “Aemond.”
His eye flickers from your lips to your eyes.
“Trust me,” you say softly.
The one-eyed dragon prince needs no more convincing. He bows his head to your height, and you stand on the tips of your toes, hand caressing the back of his neck bringing his lips to yours. Aemond is gentle with the kiss, as though he has never kissed someone before. He nearly pulls away after the first peck, but you secure your hand on his neck, opening your mouth against his, deepening the kiss.
Something comes alive in Aemond as you slip your tongue into his mouth. Fire curls in his belly, desire lodges at the base of his spine, and his cock strains against his trousers as your nails scrape his scalp.
You pull away when the sound of someone clearing their throat pulls you from the prince’s trance. Lips reddened by the hasty kisses, Aemond’s violet eye is wide as it meets yours.
“Sister,” Cregan says awkwardly, “It is good-”
“It is a pleasure to meet you, Lord Stark,” Aemond interrupts, nodding to the young wolf.
“Your grace,” Cregan says, bowing slightly.
“Delightful to be surrounded by kin,” Aemond tells him.
“Kin? I do not understand,” Cregan tells him.
“My betrothed has missed her brother for too long now,” Aemond clarifies, much to Cregan’s and your surprise.
“Betrothed?” Cregan asks, looking between you two.
“Yes,” you tell him, sliding next to Aemond, pressing your body against him, “Prince Aemond has asked for my hand. And I have accepted.”
Cregan’s eyes narrow, ever so slightly.
“Without informing me?” he asks.
“We wished to surprise you,” Aemond says softly, “your sister was so excited by your arrival, she wanted to tell you in person.”
You nod eagerly as Aemond speaks, and Cregan raises an eyebrow at you in question. You smile widely, showing too many teeth. A she-wolf, daring him to question you aloud.
“Tis true, brother,” you tell him, “Who am I to deny a dragon prince?”
“I suppose if you did not want to, you would not,” Cregan says, sighing, “A stubborn woman, my sister is.”
“One of the many reasons she is so charming,” Aemond agrees, his words causing your heart to flutter inside your chest.
Warmth pools in your belly as the prince smiles down at you. Cregan raises an eyebrow, nodding in approval.
“I dare ask, what else has entrapped your attention, my prince?” Cregan asks, “It is my understanding the Queen wished for you to take a wife for some time now, to no avail.”
Aemond nods.
“Your sister is a rare find, much like a winter rose south of the Wall,” Aemond begins.
Your heart leaps in your throat. Though you had expected it, now it is confirmed. It was he who left you the flowers. He who took such care with them.
“However, did you do it?” you ask, eyes wide.
Aemond smiles at you knowingly.
“Precious flowers take time to bloom, they require special care,” he tells you, “but they are well worth it.”
You flush at his words, believing he means more than just the flowers.
“A marriage must be treated with such care as well,” you agree, lacing your fingers through his.
Aemond’s hand is rough from training with the sword, but your hand fits perfectly in his. The warmth of his palm settles the flurry of nerves in your stomach.
“Are you prepared to give this union such care?” Cregan asks, his voice hardening, “This is my sister you are marrying, and she deserves nothing but the best.”
Aemond smiles, looking down at your intertwined hands. His thumb rubs against the back of your palm.
“I would gift her the world if I could,” he admits, “I promise you, I shall spend the rest of my days devoted to making her happy.”
Your eyes well with tears and your heart swells with pride at his words. You tug him closer to you, taking his other hand in yours.
“You must excuse us brother,” you tell Cregan, “though I have missed you, I require a moment with my betrothed.”
You lead Aemond away from Cregan, away from the curious eyes of court, until you are in a secluded area of the castle.
“Where are we going?” Aemond asks, a smile playing on his lips.
You tug him closer once more until you are pressed up against him.
“I wish to kiss my betrothed unwatched,” you giggle, bringing his mouth to yours once more.
“It’s A Match” - Chapter One (HotD Characters x Reader), Tinder AU
A/N: a new love interest appears in this chapter huehuehue ❤️
Summary: You chat with your newest match and he makes an offer you can't refuse.
TW: afab reader, she/her pronouns, profanity, innuendo, making out nothing too crazy (YET) hehehehe
Word Count: 1,661 words
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.
It takes you a moment for the reality of the situation to hit you. You don’t know a lot about the royal family, you’re the first to admit that. It’s why you didn’t recognize Jace as the crown prince. But everyone knows who Daemon Targaryen is. The second born son of Prince Baelon, notorious ladies man and now the COO of the Targaryen Corporation. He drives the fastest cars, dates the hottest people, and is always in the tabloids for one scandal or another, and has been a constant fixture there ever since the tender age of sixteen, when he was caught in a torrid affair with the princess of Dorne.
You stare at his profile for a long moment, thinking about what to say. This person might not even be Prince Daemon. Why would he be on Tinder? Well, apparently his nephew is, but you digress. You see that he’s already sent you a message and so, you take a deep breath and open the message.
Daemon: Hello, beautiful. What are your plans this evening?
You bite your lip, wondering what to say. You don’t have plans, but you don’t want to make this too easy for him. Your thumb hovers over the keyboard before you smirk to yourself and type out a response.
You: I’m busy but I could be convinced to change my plans.
Daemon: Dinner. You, me, 8PM, the Golden Dragon.
Your eyes widen. The Golden Dragon is the fanciest restaurant in King’s Landing. It has three Michelin stars and you know for a fact that a single appetizer there runs upwards of fifty dollars. There’s no way you could afford eating there and the idea of someone spending that much on you makes you slightly uncomfortable. After giving it some thought, you decide to be honest and tell Daemon the truth about your feelings on the matter.
You: If I’m being honest, I’m not super comfortable with the idea of someone spending that much on me and I wouldn’t be able to afford to pay for myself.
He doesn’t respond for a moment and you worry that you might’ve offended him by turning down his offer, but you breathe out a sigh of relief when you read his reply.
Daemon: I appreciate your honesty, but I assure you, you wouldn’t be putting me out. Perks of being a royal include getting to eat at some of these restaurants for free, so I’d love to share the experience with you if you’re interested.
You immediately text Maris, asking her advice, and of course, your best friend encourages you to go for it. And also curses herself for having such shitty luck on Tinder while you’re getting super hot matches left and right.
You: Alright. It’s a date.
You give him your number and the address of your apartment complex before checking the time. It’s only around 4PM, so you decide to take the rare free time you have to pamper yourself before your upcoming date. You put on your favorite music, light your favorite scented candles, and begin getting to work. You run yourself a bath using your favorite bath bomb, put some leave-in conditioner in your hair to work its magic, as well as a sheet mask to make sure you look your best. This is your first date since the break up so while you’re a bit nervous that it’s with Daemon Targaryen of all people, you’re excited too.
After the bath and doing your skincare and haircare - and, of course relaxing a bit, you check the time and see that it’s now around 6PM and pick out your outfit, a little black dress with a pair of heels. You do your hair, your makeup, shoot Maris a text and share your location with her as well as a couple of your other friends, and then?
You’re ready and heading off for your date with none other than Daemon Targaryen. The man pulls out all the stops for you, you notice. He’s sent a limo to pick you up from your house, and you flash your nosy downstairs neighbor a grin when you see her poking her head out from her balcony. You give her a cheeky little wave as the driver opens the door for you and you get in. You see that Daemon’s had some champagne chilled for you that the driver offers to pour you before you head off, which you thank him and agree to. You sip on your drink as the sights of King’s Landing pass you by.
When you arrive at the Golden Dragon, you’re glad that you’re not completely underdressed. You don’t have too many designer clothes, but the dress you’re wearing is made of nice enough material that people will likely assume that it’s some designer brand or the other. You enter the restaurant and it’s pretty easy to find Daemon. His presence commands attention. He’s standing near the entrance, turned away from you, giving you a nice view of his broad shoulders, his back, and his ass in those perfectly tailored pants which have no business clinging to him the way they do.
As if sensing your presence, he turns to face you, and you have to hold yourself back from jumping the man. He’s way more gorgeous than any of his pictures could even hope to portray. He’s tall, well-built, with a strong jaw, those lilac Valyrian eyes… His usually long platinum blonde hair appears to have been cut recently, but gods, that little strand that’s falling onto his forehead is making you feel things. The corners of his lips curl up into a smile as he walks over to you. He’s left a few buttons of his shirt undone and the sleeves of it are rolled up, exposing his muscular forearms. You remind yourself that you’re in a public place and it would be entirely inappropriate to go feral over him here and now, and so you contain yourself, if only barely.
Daemon takes your hand and brushes his lips against the back of it, smirking, “You’re even more gorgeous than your pictures.”
You give Daemon a grin of your own, shivering slightly at his kiss on your hand as he moves to rest a hand on your lower back as you two are guided to the table, “So are you. I gotta admit, I half expected you to be a catfish.”
Daemon chuckles at this, pulling out your chair for you before taking the seat opposite you at the table with a view that you two are given, “Well, I didn’t ask you for your bank account information to wire you two million gold dragons, did I? That must’ve worked somewhat in my favor.”
You laugh at his joke as the waiter hands the two of you tonight’s tasting menus. You feel slightly embarrassed since the menu is all in High Valyrian and you only understand bits and pieces. Daemon, sensing your panic, pulls his chair closer to you and, without any condescension in his tone, begins translating for you. You smile at him gratefully, telling him that it all sounds fantastic, assuring him when he asks that you’re not allergic to anything he mentioned.
“One of my daughters has a peanut allergy,” he explains to you, “So I always try to make sure and ask,” Daemon pauses before asking, “Is this your first time going out with an older guy? Does it bother you that I have kids?”
You shake your head, “No, it doesn’t bother me at all. But yes, in all honesty, I’ve only ever been in one serious relationship and that’s a guy I went to school with.”
“Well, darling,” Daemon winks, “Allow me to show you that men are far preferable to boys.”
You smile at his teasing, the two of you falling into easy conversation, enjoying the back and forth. The food is absolutely incredible, as is the Arbor Gold Daemon has brought to your table for the two of you to share. You’re surprised at how witty he is, and how he doesn’t seem to be stuck-up like you feared he would be.
The man is an absolute menace when it comes to flustering you, however, considering he doesn’t move his chair back after translating the menu and rather keeps a hand casually placed on your thigh throughout the course of the meal, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world to him.
After the meal is over, he takes you home in the limo, and you?
Well, you’re all over him the minute that partition goes up. His hands are in your hair, and gods, the man kisses better than you ever could have dreamed. Your hands are on his chest, twisting into the fabric of his Versace shirt while one of his hands slowly moves down your back to your upper thigh, squeezing slightly. You arrive home far too soon for your liking and, deciding to play it cool and leave him wanting more, you give him a quick kiss and tell him you’ll text him.
Daemon waits for you to exit the car and get all the way to the door of your apartment complex before asking his driver to leave, a small but sincere gesture as he wanted to make sure you got home safe. You go back up to your apartment, feeling on cloud nine, but after the dinner, you’re still a bit uncertain as to what exactly it is that Daemon’s looking for.
Putting the thought out of your mind, you continue swiping and come upon a rather… Interesting profile.
The last sentence is a bit off-putting, so you swipe left. Also, you’re not entirely sure you want to date the male version of Gretchen Weiners.
However, the next profile you come across?
You swipe right so hard you almost drop your phone. Holy fuck, this man is gorgeous.
summary: You and Aemond decide to fake date in order to make your exes jealous.
word count: 4.8k
note: a request fulfilled for the lovely @oneeyedvisenya! Rae, I remember you were one of the first blogs I admired and I remember squealing with joy when you interacted and followed me and now we're bestie ilysm I'll cry rn. I hope you enjoy 🩷
rating: Explicit (see more descriptive warnings under the cut)
warnings: p in v, fingering, titty sucking, choking, degradation, slight praise
“What’s got your panties in a twist?” Aegon asks, frowning as you take your shot.
You glare at him before signaling to the bartender you’d like another. You’re going to need a lot of tequila to get through tonight. You’d come to your favorite club after another horrible week. The world just seemed to be against you.
“Don’t say panties to me, you sound like a pervert,” you tell him, causing Aegon to chuckle.
“Your undergarments then,” Aegon decides, bumping his shoulder against yours, “your lingerie.”
“That’s even worse,” you tell him, sucking the juice from your lime.
“It can’t be Qyle again, please,” Aegon says groaning.
You bite your lip. You hadn’t expected to see your ex-boyfriend out, he always used to tell you he hated going to bars or clubs. Yet, here he was with his mates for a night on the town, effectively ruining yours.
“You need to get laid, I’m saying that as your friend,” Aegon tells you, clasping a hand on your shoulder.
“Very funny,” you tell him.
“I’m serious. I’m always down if you need a body, just as friends,” he teases.
You’ve hooked up with Aegon before. A long time ago in the grand scheme of things. You’ve always been better as best friends. You’d been nearly inseparable since your days at university.
“You’re too kind,” you tell him, scrunching your nose at the offer.
“You’re a great shag,” he continues.
Aegon furrows his brow suddenly, placing a hand under his chin as though he’s lost in thought.
“I still don’t know how you get your leg-”
“Aegon!” you say, putting your hand over his mouth to stop him from continuing.
Aemond saddles up on the other side of Aegon, trying to get the bartender’s attention. He barely pays him any mind as he places another shot in front of you before moving to the other side of the bar to attend to other patrons. Aemond sighs, a low growl releasing from deep within his chest.
Aegon’s frown deepens at his brother’s appearance.
“What’s your problem?” he asks his brother.
The bartender returns for Aemond’s order before dashing away to retrieve your shot.
“Nothing,” Aemond says, though his sulking says otherwise.
As the bartender returns with Aemond’s drink and your shot, you dash some salt on the back of your hand, licking it up before downing the tequila. Aegon glances between you and Aemond, as Aemond sips his old-fashioned and you squeeze the juice from your second lime onto your tongue, trying to get rid of the burn of cheap tequila spreading down your throat.
“Well, as much fun as you grumps are, I’m going to go see Jace,” Aegon says, clasping a hand on your back before moving to leave.
You sigh running a hand through your hair before awkwardly glancing at Aemond. You’ve never really interacted with him much before. Sure, he was your best friend’s brother, but you’re in totally different social circles. Aemond meets your eye, glancing at you sideways. You both stay silent for a moment, unsure of what to do now that Aegon has left.
“So,” you both say simultaneously.
You give him an awkward, nervous giggle. Aemond smiles tightly, nodding for you to continue.
“So…what’s up?” you ask, nodding your head to the beat of the music that blares from the speakers.
“Not much,” Aemond says, leaning against the bar, “What’s got you upset?”
“I’m not upset,” you answer a bit too quickly, a bit too defensively.
Aemond raises an eyebrow at you, turning so his whole profile faces you. You try not to stare at the scar that runs down his face; through his eyebrow, split only by the sapphire blue prosthetic that sparkles in the low lights. You swallow the lump beginning to form in your throat.
“Sorry, yeah I’m a bit upset I guess,” you tell him, “My ex is here. We literally just broke up a couple of weeks ago and yet here he is, drowning in a sea of horny women.”
You click your tongue in annoyance at your confession. For some reason, you feel compelled to continue speaking.
“I guess I shouldn’t be upset though, right? I mean we are broken up but it’s like, the principle of it I guess? We were together a while, you don’t see me just jumping onto someone-”
“Why not?” Aemond interrupts your rambling.
Your lips part slightly, brows knitting together at his rude interruption.
“Why not what?”
“Why not get with someone?” Aemond asks, sipping his drink.
“Did you miss the part where I just got out of a relationship?” you ask him, tilting your head to the side.
“Well that certainly doesn’t seem to matter to him,” Aemond tells you.
You frown, crossing your arms.
“Gee, thanks for that,” you tell him, before moving to leave the bar.
You’ve got to find Aegon, tell him what a shitdick his brother is. Aemond follows close behind as you begin to walk into the crowd.
“Hey! Shit, wait, I’m sorry,” Aemond says to you.
You barely look back, before he tugs on your arm and you turn to face him. You roll your eyes as you do so.
“See, look over there,” Aemond says, jutting his chin to the left.
You follow where he motioned, eyes landing on a beautiful dark-haired girl clad in a black bodycon dress, seated on the lap of some golden-haired guy.
“That’s Floris, my ex-girlfriend,” Aemond tells you, leaning down so he can speak directly in your ear, “We just broke up a couple of months ago. I get it.”
You watch Floris laugh and twirl a strand of hair around a delicate finger. You wonder if Aemond feels the same pain you do when you’re watching Qyle with someone else. A glance at his expression answers your question.
“It’s rough,” you tell him, nodding.
“The best way to get over someone is to get under someone else,” Aemond muses.
You snort, shaking your head.
“You sound like Aegon,” you playfully accuse.
“Yeah, I’m quoting him,” he admits, causing you to laugh.
You continue giggling, a mixture of alcohol and the ridiculousness of your ex causing you to feel like your sanity is slowly slipping away from you. You groan loudly and Aemond tears his gaze from Floris, to look down at you.
“Fuck I don’t know how to do this anymore,” you groan, “I just wish there was a way to make him regret it, without actually having to begin tragically scouting dating apps again.”
You shake your head but an idea suddenly pops into Aemond’s head.
“Maybe there is a way,” he says suddenly.
“Don’t tempt me,” you tell him but he shakes his head.
“I mean it,” he tells you, “What if you and I pretend to date.”
“What?”
“C’mon, think about it,” Aemond says, leaning closer, “You and me, together. It’ll drive Floris up the wall, I know it. And Qyle too I bet.”
You raise an eyebrow at him. You give him a once over, eyes scanning past the planes of his chest, down his dark jeans. Aemond’s always dressed in black when you see him. His black t-shit hugs the lean muscles of his chest and arms, you can see the ripple of his biceps flexing. His silver chain catches the light as you drag your gaze back up to his face.
“How do you know that?” you ask.
Aemond wets his lips, running a hand through his long silver hair. He shrugs, smugly pursing his lips.
“She was always threatened by you,” he admits.
“Me?!” you ask, eyes widening, nearly popping out of your skull.
“Don’t act so surprised,” Aemond scolds, and you feel your cheeks blooming with blush.
How on Earth were you a threat to Floris Baratheon?
“She didn’t like that you were always around,” Aemond begins, “You’re Aegon’s best friend, you’re gorgeous-”
“Am I?” you ask, a sharp laugh escaping your lips, a smile playing on your face.
Aemond hums, downing the dregs of his drink. His violet eye flickers to your face and you hope he can’t see how flushed his comment made you in the low lights of the club. It’s not every day Aemond Targaryen dishes out compliments, especially to his brother’s best friend.
“Of course you are,” he tells you, “Which is why it's perfect.”
You glance around the club, unconsciously looking for Qyle’s dark curls. You shake your head. You’re not sure what compels you to keep indulging Aemond. Maybe it’s the tequila.
It’s cause he called you gorgeous, your inner thoughts tease.
He’s simply stating facts, you tell yourself. You are gorgeous. And you would love to see Qyle squirm a bit. Even if you’re pretending.
“Okay,” you tell him, “I’m in.”
Your plan goes swimmingly.
It’s not hard to run into Floris and Qyle, you and Aemond make sure to stop by all of your favorite haunts. Aemond takes you to the bookstore downtown, with an adjoining cafe where you run into Floris and her sister Maris, who glares daggers at you the entire time you enjoy your brunch.
You take Aemond to the Water Garden museum, which Qyle told you was one of his favorite places. Sure enough, you have an awkward encounter with your former beau as he’s sketching some lilies that float by on a lapis-colored reflection pool.
Qyle’s smile falters when Aemond laces his fingers through yours, demanding you show him your favorite parts of the museum. You hate to admit it but you like the feeling of his hand in yours, how Aemond actually listens when you explain which exhibits are your favorite. He’s surprisingly easy to make conversation with and a great listener. You never felt like Qyle listened.
Your scheming pays off, both you and Aemond receive heated texts from your exes which you examine weeks later while hosting a party with the gang. The gang being Aegon, Jace, Sara, and Baela. Baela and you have been roomies since university, now sharing an apartment together. You cheers Aemond as he hands you your drink, knocking your red solo cup against his.
“You and I make a fabulous pair, if I do say so myself,” you tell Aemond, taking a sip.
“Yeah, you’re alright I suppose,” he teases and you nudge him in the ribs with your elbow.
The doorbell rings and Baela rises from the couch eagerly. You frown at her.
“You invited more people?” you ask.
Baela nods while heading toward the door.
“Just a few! Alyn from boxing and one of his friends!” she calls to you.
You roll your eyes at her. Baela loves a good party and she makes a good host. You find a seat on the couch, Aemond sitting next to you, watching as Aegon versus Sara in beer pong. When Baela reenters she’s joined by Alyn and another guy.
“Guys, this is Alyn, and his friend Cregan,” Baela introduces.
You smile politely, and all introduce yourselves. Cregan is cute. Like, really cute. Ruggedly handsome, built like a total beefcake. When his brown eyes meet yours you glance away shyly.
“Get wrecked, Sara!” Aegon cheers, successfully winning the game of pong.
“Whatever,” Sara says rolling her eyes.
“Okay let’s do doubles now, Jacey boy be my second,” Aegon says, clapping his hands on Jace’s shoulders.
Jace laughs but begins to reset the cups.
“Y/N, come on be Sara’s partner,” Aegon says, waving you over.
“Fuck you Egg, you’re a cheat I’m not playing again,” Sara says, huffing as she walks away.
She’s historically a sore loser, and she doesn’t budge even when Jace pouts and begs her to play. You stand in front of the table hands on your hips.
“It’s fine, I can take you both,” you tell them, causing Aegon to raise an eyebrow.
“Kinky bestie,” he teases and you throw the ball at his head.
He ducks, dissolving into laughter as Jace blushes.
“I’ll play,” Alyn's friend says suddenly, walking to stand next to you.
You glance at him, smiling softly which he returns with a smile of his own.
“You should know, I’m pretty shit at this game,” he admits, and you giggle softly.
“No worries, I’ll carry us,” you tease, “But beware, that one is a cheater.”
You point at Aegon, and he opens his mouth dramatically, placing a hand on his heart.
“That’s a pretty harsh accusation coming from the master of distraction,” he accuses.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you say, blinking innocently.
“Don’t let her fool you, Cregan,” Aegon says shaking his head and bouncing the ball against the table, “This one is known for flashing her tits if it means she can win.”
“Aegon!” you hiss, blushing furiously, “He’s lying.”
“Mhmm, we’ll see,” Aegon teases and the game begins.
While Aemond enjoys watching you play, he decides rather quickly he does not like Alyn’s friend Cregan. Specifically, the way he stands so closely next to you, and the way he seems to be so hilarious. Every laugh he steals from your lips sends Aemond’s heart racing, his blood boiling in his veins.
He stays seated on the couch for the entire game, eye never leaving you. Baela plops down next to him at one point, her gaze following his and landing on you. Aemond notices he’s being observed a second too late, tearing his gaze away and nonchalantly taking a sip of his drink.
“Mhmm,” Baela says, fighting a smile.
“Shut up,” he snaps at his cousin.
The shenanigans continue late into the night, with Sara and Jace leaving first. You raise your eyebrows at Sara. They’re not technically together, but the sparks are there. You know Jace will have to make a move soon, he just needs to get a little braver. Aegon is picked up by Rhaenyra next, he’s too drunk to drive. He places a sloppy kiss on your cheek as you help Rhaenyra lift him into her red Cadillac.
“I love you so much, you’re my best friend,” Aegon slurs.
“I love you too, Egg,” you tell him, laughing at his ridiculousness.
He sits up in the backseat looking around.
“Is this Nyra’s car? Is Nyra here??” he asks loudly, eyes wide.
“Yes you idiot, you called me!” Nyra says getting into the front seat.
“I’m so glad you’re here, my big sister!!” Aegon says, pressing his face against the leather seats, “Can we get McDonald's?”
For some reason, Aemond lingers behind as the party dies down, it's only you, Baela, Alyn, and Cregan left. As the hours get later, Alyn and Cregan finally decide to leave, but not before Cregan insists you take his number.
You’ve started picking up cups and plates, not one to find sleep easily after a rager. Baela turned in for the night, you can hear her noise machine blaring even though her room’s on the second floor. You roomed with her in college, she can’t sleep in silence. Noise machine, fan on, and she’s out like a light.
“You really got his number?” Aemond asks, from the couch across the room.
You glance at Aemond as he sits, legs splayed out, arms draped over the back of the couch. One of his large hands holds a now empty red solo cup. He taps a long finger against it.
“Who?”
“Alyn’s friend,” Aemond says, not taking his eye off you.
“Oh...Craig?” you tell him.
Shit, that is totally not that guy's name.
You frown, standing straight, a red solo cup dangling from your fingers. You put his name into your phone as an emoji of a wolf. It seemed funny at the time though you can’t remember why.
“Or Connor? Something with a C I think,” you tell him, shrugging.
“What about us?” he asks.
“What about us?” you ask, placing a hand on your hip, “Aemond, we’re not really dating.”
You move closer to him, holding your hand out to take his empty cup. Your hand nearly wraps around it when Aemond pulls it out of your reach. You narrow your eyes playfully at him, reaching once more. Aemond’s free hand wraps around your thigh, pulling you closer.
A blush creeps up your neck, heat floods your face as Aemond lets the cup fall, bringing his other hand to pull you completely onto his lap. Suddenly straddling him a gasp falls from your lips before Aemond swallows the noise by placing his lips against yours.
Holy fuck.
Aemond Targaryen is a good kisser. You admit, you thought he must be with that perfect pout on his handsome face. As you whimper against him, Aemond slides his tongue into your mouth, hands gripping your waist as you roll your hips against him.
You slide your hands around his neck, running your hands through the silky strands of his hair and letting your nails drag across the nape of his neck. He shivers against you and you do it again. Aemond’s hands slide underneath your shirt, dancing up your ribs leaving a trail of goosebumps behind at his surprisingly gentle touch.
“What were you saying?” Aemond murmurs against your mouth.
“We…” your voice trails off as Aemond moves his lips from your mouth, ghosting them across your jawbone, down the column of your neck.
“Mhmm,” he murmurs, the vibrations tingling against your throat.
Aemond nips at the skin of your neck before pressing hot, wet kisses along your throat. Gods you are so wet already, squirming anxiously in his lap as one of his large hands squeeze the swell of your ass, the other continuing its exploration under your shirt, over your breasts.
“Aem-” you whimper as he palms your breast in his hand.
Gods he feels good, just squeezing and kissing you, showering you with affection.
“You like that?” he murmurs, teeth scraping against your collarbone.
“Yes,” you breathe, rolling your hips against the growing hardness you feel between his legs.
He’s packing, you can tell by the way he’s pressed against you; hard and demanding. Though you suspected as much with how tall and lean he is, by the size of his hands. You’d been thinking about Aemond a lot actually.
“What do you like?” Aemond asks between kisses, “Tell me.”
“Aemond please,” you moan, “Please keep touching me.”
“Where, baby?” he asks, pinching your nipple between his fingers.
“Please touch my pussy,” you beg.
Aemond grins wolfishly, bringing his hand to the hem of your shirt. You release your grip on his neck as he pulls your shirt over your head. You assist him, eager to keep going as you unclasp your bra and fling it across the room.
Aemond’s eyes fall on your heaving breasts before he leans forward burying his face between them. Your head falls back with pleasure as he takes your nipple into his mouth, sucking harshly on the sensitive peak. He alternates his attention between both mounds, being shamelessly lewd with the wet sounds his mouth makes. You’re desperate at this point, breasts covered in red marks, nearly soaked from his mouth.
“Aemond please,” you beg once more and he lets his hand trail up your thigh and under your skirt.
His long fingers easily slip under your lace underwear, spreading your slick folds and swirling around your clit.
“Fuck, you’re soaked,” Aemond murmurs, mouth still buried in your tits.
Your head is spinning, ears ringing from pleasure as he sinks two fingers easily into your clenching center. You inhale a sharp breath as he crooks his fingers into the perfect ‘come hither’ position, determined to find your sweet spot. Which he does, with impressive speed as your eyes squeeze tightly shut, jaw slack with pleasure.
“Eyes on me,” he demands, “Don’t be rude, look at who’s making you cum.”
You force your eyes open, staring at him as fingers you relentlessly, rubbing your inner walls while his thumb rolls even circles around your clit. Pleasure blooms in your abdomen, it tingles up your spine. Your imminent orgasm sends warmth spreading through your limbs, your pussy clenching around Aemond’s fingers, a vice-like grip.
As you’re nearing the edge, breaths becoming desperate pants, Aemond slows his movements, swallowing your disappointed whine with a kiss.
“I know,” he sing-songs, so smugly, so condescendingly, “but you haven’t learned your lesson yet.”
He slowly removes his fingers from your dripping cunt and wraps his hands around your thighs pushing you off of him. You stand in front of him on shaky legs, and Aemond takes in the sight of you standing in your heels and skirt, topless and marked by him.
“Take off your panties,” he softly commands.
There’s no need for him to ask you twice, you move to the buttons of your skirt, but he stops you.
“Leave that on,” he tells you.
Your hands move underneath your skirt, pulling your lace panties down slowly. Aemond moves his hands toward his belt buckle, releasing his cock as you do so. Your eyes widen, at the sight of him; fully erect, pink tip leaking with precum as he slowly runs his hand along his shaft. You can see every vein that runs along his pale cock, and you were right about him being well-endowed. He’s thick and long and your mouth nearly waters at the sight.
Aemond’s mouth quirks into a smile at your staring, before he reaches out to pull you back onto his lap. He reaches for his wallet, but it's your turn to stop him.
“I’m on birth control,” you tell him, “And I was recently tested.”
“Me too,” Aemond says, “The tested, not the birth control.”
You giggle at his joke, and he grins.
“I want to feel you,” you tell him, a rosy blush blooming across your cheeks.
Aemond pulls you into another bruising kiss, as you lift your hips. You can feel the fat head of his cock kissing your slick folds, and you shiver before lower your hips onto him, engulfing him fully in your tight, wet heat. Aemond lets out a shuddering moan as he bottoms out.
Your pussy clenches around him, and you can feel him pulsating inside you like a second heartbeat as you gingerly roll your hips against him. Aemond’s jaw slacks, his violet eye blown black with lust as you begin to ride him.
He lets you for a moment, before he wraps his hands around your waist, pressing you into the couch on your back. Aemond snaps his hips against you, pulling nearly all the way out until you can just feel the head of his cock, before slamming into you once more.
Whimpers and moans fill the living room, along with skin slapping against the skin as he fucks you into the couch.
“I want you to call him,” Aemond growls in your ear, “Tell him you’re seeing someone.”
“I will,” you promise him, as he delivers another punishing thrust.
“Now.”
Your breathing stops, your heart pounding erratically in your chest.
“Aemond, no,” you whimper, as his hand wraps around your throat.
“Yes,” he tells you, kissing you sloppily eliciting another moan from you.
Thighs trembling, your pussy spasms around his thick cock and he slows his punishing pace suddenly.
“If you want to cum tonight, you’ll call him now,” Aemond tells you.
You weigh your options for a moment.
“My phone,” you choke out, motioning to the side table.
Aemond smirks, moving his hand to the back of your neck, reaching for your phone with his free hand. He hands it to you and you take it with a shaky hand.
You scroll through your contacts to find wolf boy and press the call button as Aemond lets his hand run down your chest, between the valley of your breasts and lower to play with your clit. Your pussy clenches around his still cock, desperate for him to move.
Please don’t pick up.
The phone keeps ringing, your orgasm building with each ring, each swirl of his dexterous fingers.
Please don’t pick up.
Aemond kisses your neck, your collarbone. Mumbles filthy words against your skin like a prayer.
“You like warming my cock, baby?”
Please don’t pick up.
He takes your nipple in his mouth, tugging on it with his lips, his teeth. Oh god you’re going to-
The sharp cut to wolf boy’s voicemailbox brings you back to reality. Aemond removes his fingers from your clit and you whimper with disappointment before the beep of the answering machine.
“He-hey! Hello there,” you try to sound casual, “this is um this is Y/N from the party and I just-”
Aemond sinks his teeth into the junction where your shoulder meets your neck and your jaw drops.
“I just wanted to tell you, I’m actually, um I’m-” your voice trails off, eyes fluttering shut as Aemond sucks harshly on your neck.
Aemond pulls away, a wolfish grin on his face before he plucks your phone from your hand, pressing it to his ear.
“She’s seeing someone, and she’s busy right now,” he says roughly, “Delete this number.”
Aemond hangs up, tossing your phone to the other end of the couch. Your eyes are wide as he spreads your legs wide, pressing them back into the cushions of the couch as he begins to pound into you.
The sound of wet slaps fills the room and you’re thanking every deity you can think of that Baela is a heavy sleeper.
“You liked that didn’t you?” Aemond taunts, “Calling him with my cock inside you?”
Whimpers and moans leave you with every snap of Aemond’s hips.
“Yes,” you admit, feeling a rush roll through you at his possessiveness.
“Naughty girl, you are,” he chastises, “I don’t think naughty girls deserve to cum.”
You let out a desperate whine and Aemond chuckles darkly at your disappointed reaction. You bite your lip, the delicious sting of your hamstrings paired with Aemond’s precise thrusts sending you closer and closer to the edge.
“Please, Aemond,” you beg, eyes glassy with want, “Please make me cum, I want you to.”
“I bet you do,” Aemond tells you, bringing a hand to rest against your throat once more, “Needy sluts, always want to cum.”
“Aem, please,” you continue to beg, voice hoarse, “I’ll be so good.”
Aemond quirks an eyebrow at you.
“Will you now? That’s what I like to hear,” Aemond praises, “How?”
“I’ll be all yours, only yours,” you tell him, toes curling with the building pressure in your abdomen, “Fuck, I’m yours.”
“Hmmm that’s better,” Aemond tells you, “It’s you and me, baby.”
“You and me,” you repeat, nearly dumb with pleasure, “you and me.”
“That’s a good girl,” Aemond praises, releasing your throat and bringing his hand to play with your clit, “Cum for me, cum all over my cock.”
Your belly tightens and with a strangled cry, you’re clenching and coating Aemond’s cock and lower stomach with your release. Aemond continues to fuck your sensitive walls through your orgasm, as you run your nails down his back, holding him closer. He lets go of your legs and you wrap them around his waist.
“Cum inside me, please,” you whimper.
Aemond kisses you harshly, his thrusts becoming frantic as you feel him release deep inside of you. You whimper with pleasure, sinking your nails into his shoulder and keeping him inside you. Aemond kisses you again, more gently this time, and brushes some hair from your face.
“Holy shit,” you manage to say, and Aemond smirks.
“I didn’t plan on that,” he tells you, “but seeing you with Cregan-”
“Cregan! That was his name,” you interrupt.
Aemond furrows his brow.
“I fuck you that good?” he teases.
“I forgot his name before you fucked me,” you tell him.
“I can always try again,” he tells you.
“Maybe we can move it to my room this time?” you ask, “It is, three feet away after all.”
And that’s exactly what you do, leading Aemond into your room where he fucks you with his fingers, his cock, and his tongue until his name is the only one you can remember at all.
“Y/N?” Baela calls from the living room the following morning.
You open your eyes and turn, greeted by a sleeping Aemond Targaryen. You put on his shirt and open the door to your room, peeking your head out.
Baela stands, arms crossed, a knowing smile on her lips.
“Have fun last night?” she asks.
“Yeah…” you answer slowly.
Baela’s eyes flicker across the room and you follow her gaze. Your eyes land on your monstera plant that rests in the corner of the room, and your cheeks begin to burn as you see your bra strung over the leaves.
“Tell Aemond good morning,” Baela teases as you back into your room, and close the door.
You pad back over to your bed, sinking down onto the mattress. Aemond groans before his hand wraps around your waist pulling you closer.
“Good morning,” you whisper, bumping your nose against his.
Summary: You are Finan's sister. You live in a village in Scotland, near the border with Northumbria. You lead a quiet life until your brother decides to visit you with his boys and your life changes completely.
Pairing: Osferth x fem!reader
Warnings: Smut; 18+; NSFW
Author’s note: Hey you (:
Now I am finally sharing my little Osferth story with you. The events are a little different from the story in the series. (No, Osferth will not die either).
I hope you will enjoy it!
English is my second language, please forgive me if I made any mistakes (:
Dear readers... we all knew this moment would come and now it is here.... This is the last part of this story. Thank you for all the great comments and conversations that have come out of it!!! Much love to you
Word count: 2.5 k
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6
Other stories of mine
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Finan seems paralysed at first. The noise around you seems numbing. But Finan doesn't seem to notice much of it. When he stirs again, however, he slams the mugs of ale onto the next table. More ale lands on the table than is left in the cups afterwards. He looks over at you and takes a big step towards you. Sihtric stands shocked next to Finan and does not dare to intervene.
But before Finan reaches Uhtred, Osferth is at your side. Your arms are still wrapped around Uhtred. Somehow you seem to be enjoying the kiss... and you feel good about showing Osferth that you can enjoy yourself without him.
But suddenly Uhtred is pulled away from you. Your eyes grow wide as you see Osferth's hand on Uhtred's shoulder and he pulls him away from you almost violently.
"Y/n???" Osferth almost shouts and looks at you angrily.
You just return the look.
"Well, ya seemed busy... I thought ya wouldn't mind if I was busy elsewhere too!" you answer and cross your arms in front of your chest.
"Can someone explain to me what's going on?!" asks Finan angrily. But Uhtred puts a hand on Finan's arm and only shakes his head slightly as a sign that he should not interfere.
The noise around you has not abated, but the silence that now reigns between you is stifling. No one answers Finan. His gaze wanders back and forth between you. He looks first at you and then at Osferth.
But you and Osferth don't notice Finan at all. You are still standing in front of each other, still looking at each other angrily. Your gaze becomes slightly provocative.
Finan looks at Sihtric. But Sihtric raises his hands innocently, "I was with you getting new ale. I didn't do anything wrong this time," Sihtric says.
As Finan's gaze falls on Uhtred, he remembers that Uhtred kissed you. Finan grabs him by the collar and pulls him towards him, "Ya have kissed my sister?!"
Uhtred grins slightly, "That really was an accident and should have gone differently. Calm down," he says to Finan. He reaches for Finan's hand and loosens his grip. Finan just grunts, "And how am I to understand that? Y/n. Can you say something about it?", Finan now turns his attention to you.
Tired of all the last days, you don't feel like arguing here now. There is no point in getting into a discussion with Finan or arguing with Osferth now. Frustration courses through your veins as you make a determined turn and stride out of the inn.
As you make your way through the boisterous crowd of happy voices, laughter and excited chatter, you walk on unperturbed. As you make your way to your room, a presence catches your attention - Osferths walks after you, incessantly calling your name through the air. But each call only stirs the fires of anger within you, causing you to simply move on and ignore his calls.
"Osferth... Just go!" you shout warningly at him as you enter the room and stand in the doorway. You just slam the door in his face. Osferth is standing in front of the closed door. But he doesn't think of just leaving you alone now. He pulls open the door and enters the room.
"I certainly won't do that now!", he only replies and closes the door behind him, but a little more gently this time. You turn to him and look at him angrily.
"But I don't want to see ya now!" you shout at him.
His eyes almost sparkle, "That's too bad, because I want to talk to you now!" he just replies.
You look at him with raised eyebrows. Again you cross your arms in front of your chest.
"Oh? So you want to talk? All right then, tell me Os... While I was in the camp, surrounded by all those Danes, trying to gather information... But at the same time, filled with this fear of not seeing ya again, ya were having fun here?" you say to him angrily.
Osferth hesitates briefly. But he quickly catches himself again.
"I wasn't having fun here! I was afraid for you!" he shouts.
"Scared while ya were lying between the ladies' thighs?!" you interrupt him.
Osferth's head turns red, "Never would I have started anything with those women while you were in potential danger!"
But you just snort and glare at him angrily.
"I mean it, y/n!" he says in a calmer but firm voice. You hear him breathing heavily as he takes a step towards you.
"But it looked very different just now at the inn!" you retort again.
"You were kissing Uhtred there! What am I supposed to make of that?!" he says, now angrier again.
"Because ya had two women on ya, idiot!" you feel the rage inside you reach its peak.
Amidst the charged atmosphere, you become aware of Osferth's proximity, standing very close to you. Both of you are breathing hard, your faces marked by unmistakable anger. There is an oppressive silence between you, broken only by the rhythm of your breaths. As his gaze moves from your eyes to your lips, a strange feeling of warmth mingles with the anger coursing through your veins. You have no desire to receive a kiss from Uhtred. But neither do you want to see other women enclose Osferth in their passionate embrace.
Suddenly you pull him down and kiss him. He gasps briefly as your lips touch. But immediately he wraps his arms around you and kisses you. Your kiss is wild. Very different from the kisses you have usually exchanged. Your tongues dance wildly around each other, fighting for dominance. His one hand moves to the back of your head while his other hand rests on your lower back. He holds you close to him. Osferth begins to push you backwards towards the bed, not even interrupting the kiss.
You let yourself fall as you stand beside the bed and Osferth immediately lies down on top of you. You can already feel how aroused he is and you whimper briefly when you notice how he presses his aroused length against your warm core. But Osferth swallows your whimper as his lips settle on yours again and kiss you wildly.
You are both breathing heavily and you are aware of a growl forming in his chest. Your hands move to his torso and begin to pull at his shirt as you try to open it. Osferth doesn't hesitate for long. He breaks the kiss briefly and takes off his shirt. You see his lean torso as he kneels between your legs. Light muscles are visible under his soft skin. You bite your lip lightly. You start to open your dress. But before you can react, Osferth's hands are on your body. He begins to open your dress roughly.
You gasp briefly as he literally rips open your dress. He pulls it over your shoulders and kisses the soft skin of your neck and shoulder. Your breathing becomes heavier. You pull your dress down further and Osferth finally takes it off completely. You lie naked under him and pull him down to you again. Passionate kisses follow. Your tongues are still fighting for dominance. His hands slide over your body, sending a shiver down your spine.
His fingers reach your thigh and begin to tease you. While still kissing you wildly, he leaves circular motions on your thigh. Slowly but decisively he lets them move higher. He grips your soft thigh a little as his hand reaches the inside of your thigh. Again you whimper and you feel him smile slightly as he kisses you.
You reach for his neck as his fingers reach their destination and slowly glide through your wetness. His fingers are immediately soaked with your arousal. You moan out, "Os..."
You hear him chuckle softly.
Even before he slides two fingers inside you, you look up into his face and notice a slight smile forming on his lips again.
You close your eyes and he lets his fingers slide into you again and again. Your warm walls immediately clench around his fingers and you hear him groan deeply. His thumb finds your pearl and begins to leave firm but gentle movements on it. You squeeze your eyes shut even more and moan.
His fingers thrust deeper into you. With each thrust, his thumb rubs further over your pearl. His fingers reach your sweet spot and each time he touches it, your hips jerk further towards his fingers. You hardly notice how he opens his trousers and lets them slide down. Without diverting his attention from you, he suddenly kneels naked between your legs.
He pulls his fingers out of you and you whimper slightly as you feel the sudden emptiness inside you. But this emptiness is quickly replaced by the feeling of him sliding his hard member through your folds. You hear him grunt again. As he slides his hot length through your wetness, a wet smacking sound fills the room. He lets his hard member be enveloped by your wetness before placing it in front of the entrance to your warm core. You look into his blue eyes. You are both breathing heavily.
A moment passes in which neither of you says anything nor moves. Then you kiss each other gently. His soft lips are on yours and he begins to thrust gently into you. You gasp as you feel him fill you more and more.You grab his shoulder again as he is up to the hilt inside you. You gasp as he fills you completely.
"Os..." you moan again. He gives you some time to adjust to his size. He kisses you as he slowly moves inside you. But as time goes by, his thrusts become stronger. His moans of pleasure mingle with yours as his hips slam against yours.
His thrusts become firmer and more purposeful. You begin to moan louder. You grow louder with each thrust. He presses his lips firmly to yours and kisses you. You feel his heavy breathing. His hand reaches for your thigh. He spreads your legs further apart. His thrusts go even deeper than before. You moan out and again a smile plays around his lips. He leans down and begins to kiss your neck. He bites into your soft skin as he thrusts into you. A light groan sounds from him. You bite your lip as you feel his bites.
"Os...", you moan. But only a "mmmhm" sounds from him. The sweat on your skin mixes where your bodies touch.
You push his hand away from your thigh. At first he looks at you irritated, but you just kiss him. You put your legs around his waist. You press your heel against his bottom and press him further against you. His cock thrusts deeper into you and you cry out with passion.
His balls keep slapping against your bottom. You continue to moan. Each thrust hurts, but it feels so good.
Osferth still has a smile on his lips. One of his hands reaches up and tangles his fingers in your hair. His other hand slides to your hip to hold you firmly as he continues to thrust into you, but also so as not to crush you with his body.
"Os... I am so close... Os," you whimper.
"Come... Come on my cock.. Let go for me, my lady," he breathes in your ear.
You moan again as you hear his words. His thrusts become even harder. You are a moaning mess. Your thighs begin to tremble. They are still around his waist and he feels them twitching around him. He thrusts further into you.
You feel the heat spreading through your abdomen and you whimper. And then he pushes you over the edge. You moan loudly. Your warm walls tighten around his hot length again and again.
Osferth grunts, but his thrusts don't let up. His hand is still on your hip. He continues to hold you tight, thrusting into you.
He closes his eyes and you hear him moan.
"Oh Lord..." he suddenly moans and you notice how his thrusts are getting sloppier and sloppier. His thrusts soften until they subside.
You are both breathing heavily. Osferth lowers himself onto you and buries his face in the crook of your neck. You feel his warm breath and how he gasps. You are still panting, but you have to smile. You let your hand wander into his hair. Gently you stroke his head.
"Did ya really just say 'Oh Lord' when you climaxed?" you whisper to him.
You hear him chuckle slightly.
You chuckle as well.
"That reminds me, I should ask for forgiveness..." he says softly and gestures to get up.
"Noo... Ya stay here," you say and pull him towards you again.
A soft chuckle escapes his lips and he lies down beside you, pulling you tenderly into his embrace. You reach for the blanket, it envelops both your bodies. You snuggle closer to his side and your gaze meets his, fascinated by the loving bond between you. Amidst the intimacy, you become aware of the rhythmic, wild beat of his heart, a lively echo that effortlessly harmonises with your own. A gentle smile caresses your lips, and a tender kiss on the tip of your nose seals this moment of happiness.
But just as he is about to say something, the door opens. Finan suddenly rushes in. His gaze wanders around the room until he suddenly sees you lying on the bed. His eyes grow wide as he realises that you are lying in bed with Osferth and your clothes are lying next to the bed.
He seems speechless at first and you try to cover your body.
"Osferth!!", Finan shouts. Uhtred suddenly appears behind Finan. When he sees you lying on the bed and notices how you try to cover your body and Osferth's face turns red, a grin comes to his lips.
"I... I...", Osferth stammers out.
Your cheeks also turn red, but you have had enough.
"Finan! Get out!" you suddenly shout.
Finan looks at you, stunned.
"Y/n!...", he begins. But before he can finish his sentence, Uhtred grabs him gently but firmly by the shoulder and pulls him backwards out of the room. Finan tries to reach for Uhtred, but Uhtred simply pulls him along.
"You should put some clothes on," Uhtred says with a grin as he closes the door.
You are still breathing heavily. Your eyes and Osferth's meet. You see how Osferth's red cheeks match yours. You kiss him gently and feel him begin to smile.
"Maybe ya shouldn't just ask God for forgiveness..." you whisper to him.
His cheeks become even redder.
"That's not funny... He's going to kill me...", Osferth says softly, but you see a slight smile on his lips.
"I will prevent that," you whisper against his lips and kiss him again.
Summary: You are not in love with the one-eyed Targaryen Prince. Your Ladies in Waiting have no idea what they're talking about.
Part 5 of the Musical-Inspired One Shot Series
Word Count: 6k (oops)
Rating: Explicit/18+/Minors DNI (specific warnings under the cut)
Warnings: canon-era fic, smut, fluff, a hint of blood kink, a hint of knife kink, spanking, fingering, oral (f receiving), finger sucking, unprotected sex, penetrative sex, doggystyle, heavily implied exhibitionism, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, breeding kink, degradation, praise, creampie
A/N: This fic is multiple things in one--it's an installment of my Musical-inspired one shot series, a filled anon request for knife kink, AND MOST IMPORTANTLY a belated birthday post for my beloved @wonder-harley ❤️❤️❤️ Tara bby, I love you so very much and you're one of my favorite people both on this site and in general🫶🏻🫶🏻 I hope this is the bloody, knife-y fic of your dreams 🤭😈
As always, comments and reblogs are massively appreciated!
dividers by @dingusfreakhxrrington!
You hated tourney season. The pomp and circumstance, the ridiculous preening of your fellow Lords and Ladies, and fielding the attentions of men old enough to be your father who sought your hand–all of it was a nuisance as far as you were concerned.
Then there was the matter of the second son of King Viserys, Aemond Targaryen. The two of you had butted heads since you were small, squabbling over the most minute issues and swatting at each other when your mothers’ backs were turned. As you grew older, however, your arguments shifted into veiled digs at one another and intellectual debates.
You would be lying if you said you didn’t relish the conflict–it was rare for anyone to allow you to speak to them in such a way, and he was dreadfully intelligent, though you hated to admit it. Your bickering always left your heart thundering in your chest, and you feeling more alive and exhilarated than you ever did under normal circumstances.
Still, you would not go so far as to say you enjoyed his company. He was annoying, pompous, and overly self-assured, and since he’d grown into a man and the object of many young ladies’ admiration, those traits were only amplified.
Your dislike for him, however, was not shared by your ladies in waiting.
“Prince Aemond is most handsome, wouldn’t you agree?” giggled Lady Poole from where she sat in her place in your sewing circle.
“Oh, quite,” agrees Lady Manderly. “They say the Southern girls are afraid of him on account of his scar, though I can’t imagine why–I think it makes him more good-looking.”
The rest of your ladies titter in agreement, much to your irritation. You were only glad the prince himself wasn’t around to hear it. It would, no doubt, make him even more insufferable.
“Hm, a bit too sure of himself, however,” you comment idly, eyes locked on your embroidery. “I’ve always found the Prince to be a bit too big for his breeches.”
“Oh, I’m certain he’s big,” snickers Lady Glover. “A dragon is sure to be well-endowed.” The ladies dissolve into giggles while you simply roll your eyes.
“Perhaps you should offer yourself to him, Lady Glover,” you comment archly. “I’m sure he wouldn’t mind sampling northern stock.” Your words were crude, but you scarcely cared–your patience was already thin, and hearing your friends gush over the contrived fool was too much to bear.
“Oh, he wouldn’t mind at all,” she replies, smirking at you deviously. “Though I think his tastes skew more toward wolf than armored glove, my Lady Stark.” You scoff dismissively at her implication that he would have any carnal–let alone romantic–desires toward you.
“You are quite bold to say so, Lady Glover.”
“Bold, but not untruthful,” Lady Cerwyn chimes in, tossing her straight dark hair over her shoulder flippantly. “We are not blind, my Lady. We can see how he looks at you--and how you look at him.”
“I do not look at him in any way besides in aggravation,” you grumble. “He has been a thorn in my side since we first met as children and has only grown more tiresome, of that I can assure you.”
“Yes,” Lady Manderly hums, “and you only grow flushed when you’re around him because it’s so warm here in King’s Landing, correct?”
“And grow short of breath because the stairs in the Red Keep are so very steep,” adds Lady Poole. “There cannot be any other possible explanation for your affectation when it comes to Prince Aemond.”
“I am not besotted with the fool if that is what you are implying,” you reply shortly, your voice rising. “When I am to be fond of a man, you shall hear me shout it from the rooftops, of that I can assure you.”
Your ladies glance between one another, badly hidden smiles creeping onto their features.
“What?” you exclaim in exasperation.
“My Lady, you are shouting,” points out Lady Manderly. The only response you give her is a close-mouthed little scream of aggravation, tossing your embroidery to the side and rising from your seat.
“I am going for a walk,” you announce to no one in particular and spin on your heels, stalking from the room in a decidedly sour mood.
You’ve scarcely made it more than a few paces when you come face to face with the object of your ire and the last person you want to see: Aemond Targaryen himself.
“Lady Stark,” he inclines his head to you respectfully, a gesture which you do not return. “How goes your sewing circle? Have you mastered the basics yet?” He grins at you as you bristle at his words, evidently pleased to have gotten under your skin so quickly.
“I have long since mastered the basics,” you reply cooly. “And what of your training? Still getting thoroughly trounced by Ser Criston?”
“Hardly,” he raises an eyebrow. “It has been quite some time since I was bested in combat, I will have you know.”
You make a sound of disbelief, stepping around him to continue your walk, clenching your jaw when he falls into step beside you rather than letting you go.
“As a matter of fact,” he continues, as though you had not completely ignored him, “I will be fighting in the tourney tomorrow–I am sure you will be in attendance to witness my victory?”
“Your victory? You assume that you shall win against the finest young men of the realm?” you challenge, engaging with him despite your better judgment.
“None finer than I in the ways of the sword,” he counters. “You shall see tomorrow that I do not boast–I have more than enough talent to support my claims.” He’s still smiling at you, and you’re overwhelmed with a desire to wipe it off his face.
“Then you spend too much time studying the blade, my prince,” you shoot back, “and not enough on other matters.”
“What other matters could be more important?”
“A man who spends all day with a sword in his hand is sure not to have mastery of his…other sword,” you snark. “Perhaps if you spent more time with women, you would not be so poor at bedding them–or speaking to them at all, for that matter.”
“I have had no complaints,” he smirks. “In fact, most women have screamed their praises.”
“They would dare not say otherwise to a prince,” you dismiss his claim. “Any screams you have heard are surely out of fear and not pleasure.”
“Would you like to find out?”
You stop dead in your tracks, your cheeks growing hot at the suggestion.
“Certainly not,” you answer, perhaps a bit too quickly, forcing yourself to ignore how your stomach flipped at the suggestion. “When I lay with a man, I like to reach my peak, not shower praises on someone utterly undeserving. Good day.” You hurry away from him before he can get another word in, but still, he calls after your departing form:
“I shall see you in the morrow, my Lady–after I have claimed victory.”
On the day of the tourney, you’re trussed up and marched out to your seat in the stands, much to your displeasure. You feel like a prized cow taken for auction like this, and in the back of your mind, you suppose you’re not altogether wrong. You were being sold after all–as a wife rather than bovine, but breeding stock nonetheless.
It is an uncomfortably hot day, and the seams of your gown bite into your skin, the sun beating down on you from above, making you feel as though you are being slowly cooked alive. The situation only worsens when the tournament starts.
Lord after preening Lord rides by, all flashing armor and over-confident smiles, waving at the crowds boldly, drinking in their moment of attention. Aemond rides out last, clad in black armor on a midnight-colored stallion to match.
He does not smile or parade himself as the other lords do. The Prince keeps his eye locked ahead of him, his spine ramrod straight, radiating waves of confident, dangerous energy. His demeanor seems to put off some of the ladies there, but your friends giggle behind their fans, murmuring to one another about how strong he looks and how fearsome he must be in battle.
You do not engage in their chatter as usual, although this time, you cannot force yourself to disagree with them. He looks…striking.
“My Lady Stark,” Lady Cerwyn comments from beside you. “I trust that you find yourself thoroughly unimpressed with the Prince?” You shoot her an irritated look and do not grace her with a verbal response, wishing you were in private so you could swat at her.
When it comes time for Prince Aemond’s joust, he asks his sister for her favor, an uncharacteristically kind smile softening his features. Princess Helaena places her little wreath of pale blue flowers on his jousting rod, her free hand fluttering nervously by her side as she wishes him luck.
The Baratheon boy that has the misfortune of facing Aemond asks for your favor, which you give him with a forced smile, not daring to look in Aemond’s direction as you do.
Aemond knocks the poor fool clean off his horse in the second round, and you groan softly, humiliated on the boy’s behalf and dreading the inevitable smugness you will face from the Targaryen Prince. He wins the sword fight too–of course he does–and before you know it, he sits proudly atop his horse in the center of the ring, his hair mussed, face smudged with blood and dust as he is crowned champion.
He takes the crown of blood-red roses handed to him by Ser Harrold, considering it for a beat before he raises his gaze to the waiting crowd. A hush sweeps over the grounds, Lords and Ladies alike watching with bated breath to see who he might crown as the Queen of Love and Beauty.
Being unmarried and unpromised to any Lady, there is no indication of who his choice may be. He spurs his horse forward, refusing to look upon any maiden for too long, drawing out the suspense for as long as he could.
You scoffed faintly at his showmanship, barely holding back a roll of your eyes. For someone who played at such decorum and modesty, he certainly seemed to enjoy the protracted attention this moment was awarding him. He brings his horse before the king, dipping his silver head in deference, before he looks up again with a wry smile.
“My Lady Stark?” he calls, gaze settling upon you, his one lilac eye shimmering in amusement, “I crown you the Queen of Love and Beauty, should you choose to accept.”
There is a ringing in your ears, and your cheeks burn hot. For a moment, you do not move, but then Lady Glover has a firm hand on your elbow and is urging you to your feet.
“Your Prince awaits, my Lady,” she murmurs, her lips twitching in amusement.
Your knees trembling beneath your skirt, you descend the stairs to him where he waits, the hand holding the wreath of flowers outstretched. He looks infuriatingly self-satisfied, his lip curled upward at the corner, gaze unwavering. You stand before him, grasping at the railing to steady your shaking hands.
“Of course, I accept my Prince,” you reply, voice mercifully steady, ringing out across the grounds clear as a bell. You lean forward, allowing him to place the wreath on your head, his gloved fingers brushing down the side of your face in an almost tender gesture. Pulling away as swiftly as was possible without perceived rudeness, you straighten up, your heart pounding.
The crowd erupts into cheers, but you scarcely hear them. Your eyes remain locked on Aemond, seated proudly upon his horse, and his stays on you. After what feels like an eternity, he bows his head to you and spurs his horse away, bloodstained hair shining under the light of the sun.
You return to your ladies swiftly, your blood thundering in your ears as you sit back down beside them. Lady Manderly huffs a quiet laugh, and you shoot her a quizzical look, cocking your flowered-adorned head.
“Apologies,” she hums, patting your hand. “I merely found amusement in the lovestruck smile you're wearing, my Lady.”
“Oh no, Lady Manderly,” Lady Cerwyn cuts in with a snicker before you have the chance to reply. “This is the same grin she always wears upon her lips–she's not in love with the Prince, after all.”
You realize then that you are, in fact, smiling and quickly banish the look from your face, replacing it with a sour expression in its stead.
“Mm,” Lady Manderly replies lightly. “All I shall say on the matter is that it is known that the naming of a maiden as the Queen of Love and Beauty indicates an intent to court–I wouldn’t be surprised if any other young Lords steer far clear of you for the rest of our stay, Lady Stark.”
She is right, and her words send a hot curl of anxiety forming in your stomach. Prince Aemond had no intent to court you, you were certain of that, and this grandiose gesture could very well ruin your chances of finding a husband.
Oh, you were going to kill that entitled fool.
As Lady Manderly predicted, all the unmarried men keep a wide berth of you throughout the celebration that follows the tourney. One by one, their eyes flit to the wreath upon your head before scurrying away, terrified of angering the unwed Targaryen Prince.
For his part, Aemond remains beside his mother and sister, still dressed in his armor, sword resting on his hip. He scarcely spares you a second look, which only serves to raise your ire, and when you see him excuse himself from the revelry to clean himself up before the evening's feast, you do too, intent on giving him a piece of your mind. You mutter some excuse about a headache to your ladies, all of whom share a conspiratory glance with one another but let you go without question.
The castle itself is largely deserted. The majority of the Royal Family’s guests have remained outdoors to enjoy the light breeze sweeping in from the bay and the last rays of dying sunlight, so you find yourself unhindered in your pursuit of Prince Aemond.
You admittedly do not know your way around the Red Keep all that well but manage to find your way to Maegor’s Holdfast, where the royal apartments are. You make your way through the winding halls, seething quietly to yourself, patience wearing thinner by the second.
“Are you searching for your champion, my Lady?”
You stiffen at the sound of Aemond’s smug voice from behind you, turning on the spot to see him leaning against the doorway to what you presume to be his chambers, the top layer of his armor and mail gone, clad in the soft, padded underlayer, his face still streaked with the Baratheon boy’s blood, eyepatch in place.
“You,” you hiss, your anger flaring at the sight of him as you stalk in his direction. “You smarmy, entitled little–”
“Careful,” he cuts you off, smile unmoved, his arms crossed over his broad chest. “You’re speaking to a Prince of the Realm, Lady Stark. You ought to mind your tongue.”
“And you ought to explain to me exactly what the fuck that little performance was about,” you snipe, jabbing his chest with your finger. “Because of your breathtaking ego, my prospects may be ruined forever.”
“I care not for your prospects,” he comments dryly, having the audacity to look amused. “One might think you would be grateful to have been crowned as the Queen of Love and Beauty–tis a high honor, or so I am told.”
“Well, that honor tells all other eligible men that you intend to court me,” you snap, “which we both know you have no plans of doing. Tell me, my Prince, do you garner pleasure from ruining the lives of others?”
“And who said that I do not intend to court you?”
“You are the most self-obsessed, nasty little–what?” you stop short, finally registering what he has said to you, your lips parted in shock, rage dissipating rapidly in your startled state.
“I said,” he drawls, speaking slowly, as though you were a fool, “who said that I do not intend to court you?” He unfolds his arms, straightening up and peering down his narrow nose at you. “Hm?”
You swallow heavily, staring up at him with wide eyes, “I–I don’t understand,” you breathe.
“I wish,” he hums, tucking a finger under your chin, “to court you, my Lady. And after that, I wish to wed you, bed you, and make you the mother of my children.” And just like that, your anger is back, swelling within you like a winter storm, threatening to consume you whole.
“I will not allow it. I will not be your…your broodmare, doomed to give you heirs until the end of my days,” you spit. “I do not care who you are or what your station is, Prince Aemond, I am a Lady of the North, a wolf, and I will not bow to you simply because you desire–”
He cuts your rant short with a bruising kiss, silencing you momentarily with his lips moving against you, his tongue and teeth clashing with yours. He tastes like blood and sweat and faintly of the mint leaves he loved to chew, and for a moment, it steals your breath away. You return the kiss with equal fervor, seizing him by the sides of his aggravatingly handsome face, pulling him in deeper.
Then, all at once, your senses catch up to you, and you jerk backward, placing your hands on his firm chest and shoving him back into his room, advancing upon him with all the fury of a rabid beast, ready to tear him limb from limb.
“You impudent, arrogant–”
“You look so beautiful when you are enraged,” he breathes, his single eye blown wide with lust. “A true wolf of the north–one might even think you to be a dragon, my Lady,” he does not presume to touch you again but appears entirely unphased by your words, his blood-stained face alight with interest and passion. “Every time you spit such venom at me, it only makes me want you more.”
“I detest you,” you breathe, though your voice is heady and without conviction. “I would rather die than marry you.”
He snorts faintly, seating himself on the edge of his bed, watching you, “I admit, I have received that impression, but what better to tame your wicked frost than flames?”
His words set something alight in you. It had always been there, ready to consume you at the slightest provocation, and yet you refused to acknowledge it until now. You breathe heavily, standing in the center of his room, fists clenched by your sides, nostrils flaring with each ragged inhale.
“Tell me you have not felt it too, my Lady,” Aemond hums, his hungry gaze raking over your form, compressed into the dove-gray dress you detested so much. “Tell me that you do not desire me as I desire you, and I shall leave the matter alone. Forever,” he promises, tilting his snow-colored head, lips twitching upward.
You want to deny it. To spit in his face and call him a fool.
Instead, you move toward where he sits, your lips clashing with his harshly, kissing him with all the anger, embarrassment, and love you feel bubbling in your chest. He rises from his seat, towering above you, his large hands encircling your waist, holding to you with such conviction and self-assurance that you cannot help but melt into his touch. Your palms are pressed to the sides of his neck, the now-cold, sticky blood on his skin tacky under your fingers.
Aemond grunts, tangling a hand in your hair, and pulls your head backward to kiss the smooth column of your throat. The wreath of roses he had crowned you with tumbles to the floor behind you, but you do nothing but sigh under the feeling of his lips on your neck, hot and insistent.
You're pressed far too close to him than could ever be considered proper, and you can feel a bulge in his trousers, heavy and thick, grinding slowly against the softness of your thigh through your skirts. He is hard, you realize, and all because of you. A rush of arousal tears through you at the thought of having such an effect on him, your slick dampening your small clothes.
Curiosity gets the better of you, and you run your hand down his body, cupping his length through his breeches, a faint gasp leaving your lips when you feel just how big he is. He snarls, bucking into your palm, teeth biting at the crook of your neck.
“Careful,” he hisses in warning. “Do not begin something you do not want to finish.”
“And what if I do?” you whimper at the sting of his teeth against your neck. “What if I want you to take me? To have your wicked way with my body however you please?” you squeeze lightly at his bulge for emphasis, grinning at the rough grunt he gives you in reply.
Instead of answering, he slips a hand behind your back, tugging at the laces that bind your dress shut. You stroke his length through his trousers steadily, delighting in the reactions you pull from him, allowing him to push the heavy fabric from your shoulders, mouthing at the newly exposed skin.
“Tell me this is what you desire,” he growls into the swell of your breasts, sucking a bruise just below where the neckline of your dress would fall. “Tell me you want me, and I shall give you everything, my Lady.”
“I want you,” you breathe, letting your dress pool to your feet in a heap of silver. “Although…” you smirk, knowing what you say next will get the best of him, “it remains to be seen if you can…perform.”
He draws back, an angry glint in his eye, and you know you have succeeded. From his belt, he draws his knife, pressing it against the neck of your shift and slicing it downward, cutting it open with ease. You cannot help the gasp you make, eyes wide, body thrumming with desire. He pushes the thin white garment from your shoulders, exposing your breasts to his hungry gaze, drawing the sharp tip of his blade from your clavicle to the valley between your breasts slowly, lightly enough that he doesn't cut you.
Your chest heaves and you can feel your slick soaking through your undergarments, the wetness coating the apex of your thighs.
“And here I thought Northerners were supposed to be the wild, unrefined ones,” you breathe, inhaling sharply when the point of the blade reaches the waist of your small clothes. “And yet here you are: tearing off my clothes like an untamed beast.”
He grins, seeming to take no offense at your statement, slicing the waist of your underthings just enough to let them fall to the floor to join your dress and ruined shift.
“And here you are,” he hums, tossing the knife to the floor, far enough away that it would not be stepped upon, and places his hand between your thighs, fingers dragging through your dripping folds. “In a Prince’s chambers with a soaked cunny because you like it,” he presses a finger inside your entrance for emphasis, and you moan softly, tumbling forward into his arms, relishing the divine stretch of his slender digit inside you.
“Fuck,” he breathes against your neck, “you’re so warm.”
He begins to fuck you slowly with his finger, stroking your inner walls steadily, each curl of his finger bringing you unknowable pleasure. You grapple with the padded tunic he wears, undoing the buckles and ties eagerly, craving more of him, panting raggedly. You almost cry in frustration when you find another layer beneath it–a thin, white shirt, nearly transparent from sweat, and curl your fingers into it, wishing you had the strength to tear it open.
“Wild, wanton little thing,” he muses. “My beautiful she-wolf,” another finger joins the first, working your cunt open, his hand soaked in your arousal. He finds the little rough patch inside you with infuriating ease, dragging his fingertips over it roughly, each plunge inside you echoing in your ears with a wet squelch. His thumb circles your bud, the added stimulation pulling a whine from you against your best efforts to keep it down.
“The door is still open,” he comments lowly against you, teeth bared in a predatory smile. “Anyone could walk by, you know. Could see you rutting yourself on my hand like a bitch in heat.”
Hot shame floods through you, and you glance over your shoulder, confirming that he speaks the truth. The hallway behind you is empty, thank the Gods, but you had no way of knowing when some unsuspecting knight or–Gods forbid–a member of the royal family could walk by and see you with Aemond’s fingers buried deep within you. You clench around him at the thought, tumbling over the edge with a low cry, turning your head back to face him and burying your face in his chest as your peak overtakes you.
“Oh,” he chuckles darkly. “Did that make you cum? Do you like the thought of someone seeing you like this?” You can only whimper in response, body tense and trembling as you come down from your high, his fingers still moving inside you as you do.
Slowly, he withdraws them, examining his slick-covered digits with pride, before he presses them to your lips, “Be a good little girl and clean up your mess, hm?”
You comply without hesitation, your eyes locked on his face as you suck your essence from his long fingers, tongue swirling around them eagerly, moaning faintly at the taste. He growls faintly, watching you, his pale purple eye gleaming greedily.
“That pretty little mouth,” he coos. “Those lips will look so lovely around my cock–but I am afraid that will have to wait,” he withdraws his fingers from your mouth with a quiet 'pop', biting his lower lip, nostrils flaring with labored breaths.
“Go stand by the window,” he commands, shrugging off his tunic at last, shirt following close behind.
“What–”
“Did I say you could ask questions?” he snaps, unlacing his breeches. “Go.”
Your cheeks flushed with shame and wanting, you do as you’re told, walking toward the window, Aemond hot on your heels.
“Lean your elbows on the sill and spread your legs,” he hums, lowering himself before you, a hand inside his trousers, stroking himself. He presses his blood-streaked face between your thighs, mouth covering your cunt, and you cry out faintly, unable to take your eyes away from the sight. He laps at you, meeting your gaze steadily, tongue caressing your bud, his free hand gripping your shaking thigh, spreading you open further for him.
With a pleased groan, Aemond pushes his tongue into your weeping entrance, fucking you with it, the blood on his cheeks smearing against your inner thighs. He looks half-crazed, covered in the evidence of his victory and your slick, his long, pretty nose nuzzling against your pearl as he takes you apart with his tongue.
Between the unbearably erotic sight of him pleasuring himself as he devours your cunny and the previous peak he’d given you, it doesn’t take more than a few minutes before you reach your high again. You cum on his tongue with a gasp, your head falling backward, one hand buried in his mussed hair, knees threatening to give way, his low moan of satisfaction thrumming through you as you fall to pieces above him.
He draws back, rising to stand over you again, smirking in satisfaction.
“Is that all you’ve got?” you challenge, though the breathiness of your voice doesn’t match the unsatisfied nature of your words. “I thought you were a dragon.”
His face darkens, and his lip curls, sneering at you, before he seizes your hips without a word, turning you and bending you over the windowsill, your bare breasts pressed to the cool stone.
Outside the window, far below you, you can see that the celebration is still carrying on–your Ladies, chatting amongst themselves, the Lords and Ladies of every noble house in the Seven Kingdoms milling about. You’re up high enough that they won’t see or hear you, but the knowledge that they are there is enough to send another wave of burning desire through you.
“If a dragon is what you want,” Aemond murmurs in your ear, warm, muscled chest pressed against your back, “then a dragon you shall receive, little wolf.”
His open palm cracks against your ass, and you jolt forward with a cry from the force, slapping a hand over your mouth, the pain increasing your pleasure tenfold.
“None of that,” he scolds, pulling your hand away, “let me hear you.” His hand smacks down again, and you mewl pathetically, your backside smarting from the contact.
Aemond pushes inside you with one smooth thrust, a snarl rising from his throat at the feeling of your wet, wanting pussy engulfing his length, swallowing every inch of him. You moan weakly, your walls fluttering around his sizeable cock, pure ecstasy spearing through you at the welcome intrusion.
“Fuck,” you keen, pressing your ass back against his hips, wordlessly begging for more.
He thrusts into you, the size of his length opening you up, sending wave after wave of blinding, delirious euphoria coursing through you. His hands settle heavily on your hips, holding you in place as he drives into you, the head of his cock brushing that same little rough patch inside you that his fingers had found earlier.
“All those people out there,” he croons, pelvis slapping against you with each rut of his hips. “They think you to be a Lady…a pretty little winter rose…” he delivers another sharp slap to your backside, growling appreciatively at the little yelp you let escape you.
“I have never believed such things, I must confess…I knew you were nothing more than a bratty little pup that needs. To. Be. Tamed,” Aemond punctuates each word with a devastating thrust, and you can do nothing but moan at how unspeakably good it feels to be taken like this. To be taken by him.
“Look at you,” he muses, voice ragged. “Not so talkative now, are you? Have I already fucked you senseless? Hm?” he smacks your ass again, caressing the tender flesh afterward, his touch soothing your abused skin. “Answer me.”
You try to reply–you really do–but then his hand slips around you between your legs, circling your sensitive little bud again, and all you can manage is a broken, garbled wail, fingers scrabbling uselessly at the stone beneath you.
“What was that?” he taunts, thrusts increasing in intensity, the smacking of skin on skin growing in volume. “I don’t understand–you will have to repeat yourself.”
“A–Aem–”
“Gods, you can’t even manage to say my name,” he snarls. “You really are just a cock drunk little thing, aren’t you?”
You can feel your third peak growing quickly, winding in your gut, driving any semblance of thought from your mind. You ought to be humiliated by it, but all you feel is pure, catastrophic pleasure, tearing you apart at the seams.
“Fuck,” he curses lowly. “I can feel this sweet little cunny tightening around me…you’re going to cum again, aren’t you?”
You nod deliriously, tears forming in your eyes as your orgasm builds and builds, and his cock twitches inside you, signaling his own rapidly approaching release.
“Beg me,” he growls. “Beg me to spill my seed inside you, to claim you. Beg me to make you my wife.”
“Pl-ease,” you sob, already teetering on the edge. “Please…give me–fuck-give…give me your seed…m..make me yours,” the words spill from your lips in a disjointed mess, but you manage one last plea. “M-make me…make me your wife.”
With a final slam of his hips, he spends himself inside you with a barked curse, hot ropes of his cum filling you. The sensation sends you careening into mind-numbing bliss, babbling indecipherably as you fall into your peak, your mind wiped blank of everything save your pleasure.
It takes you a minute to return to yourself, gasping for breath, your cheeks pressed to the windowsill, eyelids fluttering in ecstasy.
Aemond pulls his softened cock from you with a muttered string of expletives, his fingers brushing between your swollen folds, pushing the seed that leaks from your cunt back inside you, humming in gratification.
“Good girl,” he breathes, leaning over you to press a kiss against the nape of your neck. “Come here,” he gently pulls you up from where you lay plastered to the stone, guiding you on wobbling legs to his bed, lowering you down to sit on the edge of it. He kneels before you, kissing first one knee and then the other, the look in his eye now softened, affectionate.
“Are you–”
“I am well,” you breathe, reaching out to stroke the patch-covered side of his face, smiling at him dreamily. He smiles back at you–a genuine, full smile–and rises to his feet.
He pulls his shirt over his head and retrieves your dress, guiding your still trembling legs into it and pulling you to your feet to slide your arms into the sleeves. He does not bother with your undergarments–they’ve been rendered useless thanks to his knife.
He has just finished re-lacing your dress when a clipped voice echoes down the hall.
“Prince Aemond? Your mother asks for you. Are you well? She is most worr–” Ser Criston, the Queen’s sworn shield, steps through the doorway, stopping dead when he catches sight of you. His lips part in shock, dark brows raising in disbelief as he takes in the sight before him.
Ser Criston’s eyes dart between the two of you, processing the state of your disheveled hair, the scraps of your shift on the ground, and Aemond’s unlaced breeches. He opens his mouth to say something, but Aemond beats him to it.
“I have made a proposal to the Lady Stark,” he announces firmly. “Should her brother agree to it–and he will–we are to be wed in a few months' time. Whatever you think you see here, Ser Criston, you have misunderstood, and any slanderous words from your mouth about my betrothed or her virtue will not go unpunished.”
You stare at Aemond with wide eyes, heart fluttering in exhilaration and joy, barely containing the bright grin that threatens to overtake your features.
His betrothed.
Criston’s lip twitches, and then he nods once, neck stiff.
“It is as you say, my Prince. I shall take my leave,” he spins on his heel and departs, and Aemond looks at you at last, the corner of his mouth tipping up at the elated expression on your face.
A few months later, you and your Prince are wed in the traditions of both the Old and New Gods, as well as a private Valyrian ceremony at Aemond’s request. The whole day, neither of you can stop smiling, and you do not think you’ve ever been happier in your entire life. There is one thing, however, that gnaws at the back of your mind, and you pull your husband aside before the wedding feast, heart hammering against your ribs.
“Is something the matter, my love?” he murmurs when you are alone, tucked into an alcove outside the Great Hall.
“Husband,” you breathe, grasping his hands in your own. “I…my moon’s blood did not come this month.”
He stares at you blankly, uncomprehending, and you sigh, rolling your eyes with affection. For someone so intelligent, he could be such a damn fool.
“I am with child,” you elaborate.
Aemond’s eye widens with realization, his face lighting up with unbridled glee. He sweeps you into his arms, kissing you deeply, tenderly, and your heart soars.
Your Ladies had been correct, you suppose. Perhaps you were a bit in love.
"All The Gods, They Cannot Sever Us" - Osferth x Uhtred's Daughter!Reader
A/N: why cant i write short fics anymore someone fucking murder me. also 50 points to whoever picks up the 2 movie references in this hehe ❤️
Summary: You realize you love Osferth when it's almost too late.
Word Count: 6,370
Rating: 18+, Minors DNI
TW: afab reader, she/her pronouns, profanity, innuendo, fluff, angst, p in v s*x, breeding k*nk, p*ssy slapping, f*ngering, oral m and f receiving, pining, violence/blood/gore, tiddy succin, childbirth/pregnancy, if i missed any please lmk
The first time you met Osferth was when you were a girl in Coccham, when he came to your home and broke bread with your family. You still recall being utterly amused by the way he ate his soup, like some sort of hungry baby animal, looking across the table at Stiorra, barely containing your laughter. Your mother shot both of you a warning glare as she fawned over Osferth, making the two of you and Young Uhtred roll your eyes. He eats like a messy child and she dotes on him, the three of you do it and you get scolded. Now where is the justice in that?
If you’d been paying even slightly closer attention to the novice monk, you’d have noticed his eyes were glued to you the whole time he was in your home.
The two of you were fifteen back then and you were completely enamored by your father’s right-hand man, Sihtric, an innocent girlhood crush considering the man was already married and very much so in love with his wife. Osferth, for all practical purposes, was still a monk in training and still committed to becoming a man of the faith. But he couldn’t help the way he stuttered whenever you spoke to him, the way his cheeks flushed when he looked at you, the way he couldn’t tear his gaze away from you whenever you were near him.
You remember the first time you saw him after your mother died, when he came back with your father from the battle at Fearnham. You remember him trying to offer you words of comfort, that your mother had gone to heaven and was with the angels. You glared up at him in anger, tears in your eyes, stating that she died with no weapon in her hand, that she was cold and alone in Niflheim, doomed to wander forever and never feast in the halls of Valhalla, never to see you again. You shoved past him and ran away, sobbing. Osferth wanted nothing more than to take you into his embrace and shield you from all of your pain, but no, you would never allow that. You, the proud, stubborn daughter of the rightful Lord of Bebbanburg. As far as you were concerned, your pain was yours to bear and yours alone.
That was the last time you saw the monk for some time. You and Stiorra were off to Saltwic to stay at Lady Æthelflæd’s estate while Young Uhtred remained in Wessex. Your father, brother, and all the others come to Saltwic after their loss at Bebbanburg, and by then? The baby monk wasn’t quite the baby he was the last time you saw each other. He carried himself like a warrior, and seemed more confident than the last time he’d seen you. You sought out his company more than you did when you were a girl, the two of you both being eighteen now. According to Stiorra, you even flirted with him a fair bit, though you’d deny that vehemently if anyone asked.
And on Osferth’s part? He knew he adored you from the moment you met. It only got worse as you got older and grew into your beauty. He watched as you ran to embrace your little brother, fussing over him. In that moment, Osferth found himself wishing that you’d run to him and embrace him like that. Like he was someone you loved, someone you couldn’t live without. When Cenric and his men came to Saltwic in search of Ælfwynn, Osferth watched as you and Stiorra came up with a plan and admired your sharp way of thinking, how quickly you were able to come up with a way to save them all.
Then it was on to Ceaster with your father and the others. Osferth, of course, continuously rode beside you, attempting to make conversation which you willfully ignored after Stiorra’s teasing. Young Uhtred, of course, joined in on said teasing almost immediately, your younger siblings earning several harsh glares from you over the course of your travels. Of course, everything got a bit more complicated when the lovely Lady Eadith arrived, stating that Lady Æthelflæd wished for you all to meet her at the ruins of St. Milburg’s priory. Though you and the others were initially suspicious of the strange woman’s intentions, you had little choice but to trust her that she spoke the truth.
When you all learned of the sickness that was ravaging the land and everyone fell into a panic, Osferth watched in amazement when it was you who stayed calm. You who offered to care for Ælfwynn when Stiorra protested, carrying the tired little girl. You who played games with little Æthelstan to distract him from what was happening. You who comforted Young Uhtred and Stiorra. Osferth knew then that what he felt for you was nothing short of true love, even if he believed it to be unrequited.
You didn’t understand back then why it bothered you so much when Eadith stood around talking to Osferth when you made camp, why it bothered you when she smiled at him, looking so beautiful, and he smiled back at her. Despite the dire straits you all found yourself in, Finan teased you, stating that your face was going to freeze into a glare with how you were looking over at the pair of them, that you looked like an angry little toddler whose favorite toy had been taken away from her. Years later, you would learn that Eadith only wished to ask Osferth about Finan, and of course, tease him about his very obvious admiration of you.
You tended to Ælfwynn diligently and Osferth mused to himself that one day, you’d make a wonderful mother. Eadith mentioned as much to you directly. You laughed, the sound being like music to Osferth’s ears as you spoke.
“Stiorra may have no wish to have a family or be a wife, but one day, I hope that I can have children of my own.”
Osferth couldn’t help the way his cheeks flushed at the idea of one day having a family with you. Being your husband, you bearing his children. The thought never left his mind from that day on. Young Uhtred and Stiorra looked between the two of you as you remained oblivious to Osferth’s lovestruck gaze, giggling to themselves.
As Ælfwynn’s condition worsened, you, Osferth, and Eadith were left behind to care for her, eventually having to take her to Aegelesburg after she continued to get sicker and sicker. Osferth watched as you held the girl’s head up, caring not for your own health but only for hers, fussing over her, taking command of the situation and making sure Osferth and Eadith followed your instructions to the letter. Osferth remembers how you cried into his chest with relief when Ælfwynn finally began to get better, the first time he’d ever seen you cry openly since the death of your mother. He held you tight, running a hand through your hair as you demanded he never tell another soul that you were crying like that. He chuckled and held you tight, soothing you.
When you all went back to Wessex, you remember how all the men, you, and your sister were accosted by Hæsten’s men, tied upside down to the trees and left to die and how it was Eadith who came to your rescue. You remember how Osferth called her an angel, how that pit in your stomach grew and you realized that you were, in fact, jealous.
After everything was said and done with Edward and the Dane Sigtryggr, your sister was to be sent to Eoferwic, something your father was not particularly happy about, while he would go to Rumcofa. You then faced a decision. To go with and protect your sister or to go with your father and, by extension, Osferth, who you were finally starting to realize you had feelings for. In the end, you chose your sister. Osferth was devastated when he learned of it, approaching you before you left.
“She’s my little sister and while she may like this man, I don’t know him. I won’t leave her to suffer,” you stated firmly as you stood in the castle in Winchester, packing your belongings.
Osferth looked at you with those beautiful blue eyes of his, beseeching you to go to Rumcofa, “Your father will miss you. And Æthelstan of course. He’s so fond of you-”
“They’ll be fine, Osferth-”
“What about me?” he blurted out, causing you to freeze in place, “I… I don’t want to be without you.”
You gazed up at him, stunned, before leaning in and pressing a soft, sweet kiss to his lips, your first and his. It was a chaste brushing of lips, but it lived in your mind and his every day thereafter. His lips were surprisingly soft as compared to how you thought they’d be as they moved against yours.
“Goodbye, Osferth,” you whispered, as you went to say goodbye to your father and the others.
Six years passed and Osferth never left your thoughts, nor you his. Fate made it so that you didn’t cross paths in all that time, though you did end up seeing your father, Sihtric, Finan, and even Æthelstan at times. Whenever Osferth came to Eoferwic, you’d be gone for some reason or the other. Fate is funny that way.
Then, Osferth hears a rumor from Æthelstan that you’ve settled down in Eoferwic and married. The news shatters him entirely, and he cries like the boy who didn’t wish to fight all these years ago back in Lunden. He’d hoped beyond hope that your paths would cross again sooner than later and the thought of you being in someone else’s arms is simply too much for him to bear. Sihtric and Finan try to cheer him by taking him to a brothel and he loses himself in pleasures of the flesh, though the entire time, he thinks of you. Wondering if you think of him when you’re with your husband. Wondering if that kiss haunts you as it does him.
When he sees you again, it’s before the Red Moon festival. Everyone you care for has come to Eoferwic for a feast Stiorra and Sigtryggr have decided to throw in honor of your birthday, despite your protests. Even Young Uhtred and Eadith make the journey. When Uhtred and his band arrive, you run out to embrace your father, grinning.
“Father, you’re here!”
Uhtred chuckles as he catches you, spinning you around much as he did when you were a little girl, “My gods, I left a girl and I came back to see my daughters as women grown!”
You giggle before moving on to embrace Sihtric and Finan, Stiorra and Sigtryggr watching you, entirely amused at the sight. It’s ironic, Stiorra thinks, that she never wanted to be a wife and yet here she is, married before you. However, she blames your separation from Osferth for that. The group watches as Young Uhtred runs up to you and embraces you next.
“You’re taller than me now,” you say as Æthelstan approaches you as well, “Both of you! It’s so wonderful to see you all.”
Osferth has remained completely silent up until this point, frozen in place. He’s speechless as he gawks at you, how you’ve grown even more beautiful in the time you’ve been apart. He mumbles an expletive or two to himself, still seemingly incapable of speech. He listens as Finan and Sihtric tease you about how you’re a woman grown now and it doesn’t escape his notice how Æthelstan moons over you.
“So, Æthelstan tells us you got married. Where’s your husband?” Sihtric questions, asking what Osferth both needs to know and dreads to hear.
“She’s not married,” Eadith says, looking at Æthelstan in confusion before turning back to you, “Are you?”
You burst into laughter, “No! No, I’m not.”
“So no husband then?” Osferth interjects, a grin playing at his lips while he nearly lets out a sigh of relief.
You turn to Osferth, giving him a lazy smile, “Is that you, baby monk? I almost didn’t recognize you without that awful haircut. It looks much better now.”
Your group bursts into raucous laughter as Osferth’s cheeks flush a bright pink as he mumbles, “Thank you.”
“I hear you’re quite a hit with the brothel girls back in Rumcofa,” you try to keep your tone lighthearted and teasing, but you can’t help the jealousy that bleeds through in your tone.
Osferth stutters, “I-I’ve never-“
“Lady, he lies! The girls in Rumcofa fight over who gets him for the night!” Æthelstan tells you, Osferth giving the younger man an annoyed glare.
“Oh,” you arch a brow as you give Osferth a fleeting smile, “How interesting. If you’ll excuse me.”
You make an excuse that you need to get some water from the well and make a quick escape. Osferth stares after you, feeling like a lovesick fool. He’s somewhat surprised when Sigtryggr approaches him.
“You know,” Sigtryggr says, gesturing after your retreating form, “She’s like a sister to me.”
Osferth looks at him, a bit confused as to where this conversation is heading, “I can see that.”
“And if you hurt her,” the Dane says, leaning forward and resting a hand on Osferth’s shoulder, a bit too firm to be entirely comfortable, “I’ll cut your cock off and give it to her as a gift.”
Stiorra bursts into laughter at the annoyed glare on Osferth’s face as he pulls away from her husband, “I would never hurt her. This is all Æthelstan’s fault, he told me she’s married!”
“And so you found comfort in the arms of a woman at a brothel?” Young Uhtred questions archly, “That’s, as my sister would say, interesting.”
“Oh, come off it, boys,” Uhtred’s voice rings out, “Osferth, if you want to speak to her and explain yourself, just follow her outside. Offer to help her with whatever it is she is doing.”
Sihtric and Finan snicker to themselves as Osferth immediately darts out the door after you, Stiorra, Eadith, and the men making bets as to what the outcome of your and Osferth’s conversation will be. When he reaches you, he sees you, standing with your sword in the stable, whacking at a bale of hay, mumbling to yourself angrily in a way he can’t help but find adorable.
“Brothel girls fighting over him in Rumcofa,” you mutter, “Arseling. You don’t need him.”
Osferth approaches you from behind, but you don’t notice with how hesitant and quiet he is, still whacking the hay. He’s rendered completely silent at how beautiful you look, the intensity on your face, the grace of your movements with your blade. He listens as you continue mumbling and slashing.
When he does speak up, his voice is barely above a whisper, “Beautiful.”
You yelp at the sudden noise, dropping your sword and turning to face him, eyes narrowed, “What are you doing out here, spying on me?!”
Osferth is shocked at your sudden outburst but quickly begins explaining himself, bending down to pick up your sword and hand it to you, his hands shaking ever so slightly with how nervous he is, “I wasn’t spying on you… I was- I just came out to find you-”
You grab your sword from his hand and cut him off primly, “There are plenty of brothel girls at the alehouse who’d be better suited for your company, baby monk.”
As you try to walk past him, Osferth grabs your arm gently, “Wait,” his voice still soft as he speaks, still overwhelmed by seeing you again after so long, “I’m not looking for brothel girls, I promise you-”
“Well, maybe you should,” you snark back at him, “Apparently they’re so very fond of you!”
Osferth shakes his head, smiling at you softly and chuckles, “I’m flattered by all the attention they’re giving me, but I already have my eye on someone else. Someone who, until very recently, I thought to be married.”
“Go find her then,” you say, digging your heels in, too upset to realize what he’s even saying as you try to pull your arm away, and very clearly jealous at the thought of him having his eye on someone.
Osferth gently pulls you to him, gazing down at you, the look in his eyes so tender that it almost hurts you to look back at him, “But I’ve found her. She’s right here in front of my eyes,” he pauses before speaking once more, “I love you.”
“You can’t love me!” you insist, “You haven’t even seen me for the last six years-”
“And I’ve missed you all the while,” Osferth interjects, moving his hands to cup your face, and gods, they almost dwarf you with how large they are, calloused from years of being a warrior, and yet so warm and gentle and comforting as he touches you, “Night and day, I’ve thought of only you. It broke my heart when Æthelstan told me you’d wed. I was foolish and I drowned myself in meaningless pleasure with other women, but you must know all the while I thought of you, sweet girl.”
Your cheeks flush slightly at the pet name as well as the thought that he’d been thinking of you all the while, “Well, perhaps I didn’t think of you!”
A hurt look crosses his face as he speaks, “Well I thought of you. You’re the one I want,” his gaze is intense and his tone slightly more firm and serious than before as he speaks, “You’re the one I want. The one I need. The one I love. No one else.”
“Ha,” you scoff, “Tell that to your little friends in Rumcofa-”
“I don’t care what they think!” Osferth snaps in frustration, not letting you go, “I don’t care about them. I care about you. And if you mention them one more time, I’m going to tell Sihtric all about how you wished to marry him when you were fourteen and mooned after him for months.”
Your jaw drops, “You wouldn’t!”
“Okay, I promise I won’t,” Osferth grins, holding you even closer, his voice husky as he murmurs in your ear, “But in return, you have to let me kiss you.”
“I don’t have to do anything!” you retort saucily, glaring up at him, only to feel his lips come crashing down onto yours.
It’s not a gentle kiss. It’s the culmination of years of longing, of misunderstandings, of yearning for each other’s presence. Osferth grips your waist tightly while you hold onto the front of his robes, twisting the fabric between your fingers as you kiss. When you finally pull apart for air, Osferth gazes down at you, admiring the flush of your cheeks, your swollen parted lips as you look back at him. He’s not surprised when you begin fighting with him again.
“You can’t just go around kissing people like that!”
“And why not?” Osferth grins, “You appear to have liked it.”
You scowl, “Go kiss a Rumcofa-”
He pulls you back to him and kisses you once more, cutting off any protest that can come from your lips. And in spite of yourself, you kiss him back. Your hand moves to stroke his length over the fabric of his clothes, causing Osferth to let out a low groan against your lips, pulling away slightly. He gently pushes you down onto the hay bale you were so viciously attacking only a few minutes before.
“Do you want to see why they fight over me?” he asks, an uncharacteristically cocky grin overtaking his face, “I’d be glad to show you.”
You watch, eyes slightly wide as he pushes your dress up to your hips, fingers deftly moving inside your underwear to stroke at your sensitive core. You whimper slightly against his fingers, not having ever done anything like this with someone else. You’ve explored your body with your own hands, of course, but nothing like this. Osferth slides your underwear down your legs, pocketing it in his robes, the idea of which turns you on far more than it should. He begins moving his fingers over your core yet again, teasing you as he ghosts them against your skin. You buck your hips against his hand insistently, wanting more, but Osferth is determined to continue teasing you.
“Osferth,” you whine pitifully, “Come on, do something, you arse!”
“You’re not in a position to give me orders,” he teases, landing a slap on your core.
You let out a low moan at the sting, making Osferth smirk as he lands another slap. Though, after that, he does finally relent, pushing two long, thick fingers deep inside you, filling you up in a way you’ve never felt before. You let out a sharp gasp as he begins pumping them in and out of you at a pace you’d never be able to meet, leaving you unable to do anything except moan his name. The wet, squelching sounds his fingers make are borderline obscene, and you can see that he enjoys it, feeling you squeeze around his digits as he continues pumping them in and out of you. Then, he rubs your sensitive pearl with his other hand, sending you over the edge, spilling yourself all over his fingers. You look away in embarrassment as he pulls his soaked fingers out of you, licking them clean.
Things change between the two of you after that night, though you never go further than you did in the stable. Stolen kisses here and there and late night visits to your room are how the two of you spend the rest of his visit to Eoferwic. None of your friends or family seem the wiser, save for perhaps Finan and Eadith, who always seem to flash you a knowing smile as you sneak away.
You end up going back to Rumcofa with your father, where your and Osferth’s secret romance continues, though when he tries to ask what the two of you are to each other, you avoid the subject entirely. You find yourself afraid to admit that you’re in love with him, and so you never once say it out loud, scared that by speaking it into existence, you’ll doom whatever this is between the two of you. Osferth, however, has no qualms with expressing the depths of his devotion to you.
“You’re more than just Uhtred’s daughter,” he says quietly, his voice thick with emotion, “You’re a warrior in your own right. A good woman. The woman I love. The woman I’ve always loved,” he rests a hand on your face, his thumb brushing against your cheekbone gently, “My sweet girl.”
You roll your eyes playfully, the two of you standing outside the alehouse in the cold Mercian are, “You’re a strange monk, you know that?”
“You’re the strange one, darling,” Osferth grins at your reaction, tucking you under his chin and hugging you tightly, his head resting on top of yours as he teases you, “My strange, sweet girl,” he chuckles, “So what are we now?”
“I’m not strange, you’re strange,” you tease, squirming in his arms, “Arseling.”
Osferth laughs again, “That may be true,” he grins, “But I’m your arseling.”
Things change once again when your brother arrives after being maimed by Brida. You stand vigil at his bedside, barely able to eat or sleep. Osferth remains by your side, worried for the boy, but also worried for you, ensuring that you take care of yourself as your brother fights for his life. And soon after, your group journeys to Eoferwic once again to save Stiorra from Brida. You find Sigtryggr a different man than he was when you left your former home, but eventually, you manage to retake the town and save your sister before returning to Rumcofa. And there is peace, for a time.
One night, you and Osferth lay beneath the stars and you admit to him, “I have a feeling something terrible is about to happen. I had this feeling the night before my mother died. And then the day before Young Uhtred came here. And I feel it again now.”
Unsurprisingly, the next day, you learn of the death of the queen. You refuse to believe the rumors that Sigtryggr was the one responsible, and Osferth readily believes you, taking your hand, hoping to offer you some form of comfort. You think to yourself, in that moment, you are certain that you love him. And you’ll tell him when the moment is right.
Your father rides off to learn the truth of the matter from Sigtryggr, sending Æthelstan and Sihtric to Aegelsburg. You, Osferth, and Finan are left behind to guard the queen’s body. And it works for a time, until Father Benedict mentions the queen to the man who’s arrived, insisting the king sent him. You stare at the man suspiciously, who he is, why Edward would’ve sent him here. Father Benedict shows the man the queen’s body as you, Osferth, and Finan attempt to keep the peace. But chaos breaks out, the “king’s men” separating Christians and Danes, viciously attacking the latter, including your brother, who merely attempted to herd some Danes into a sanctuary. You watch in horror as your brother begins to bleed again from his injury, barely able to restrain yourself from running to his side, knowing he can handle himself and Osferth and Finan need you.
Osferth pleads with the man to have the soldiers stand down as one tries to grab at you. You unsheathe your blade and hold it to the man’s throat, nostrils flaring with anger as you gaze up at him, daring him to try anything, standing back to back with Osferth.
He stares at one of the men, pondering aloud who he is before he yells out, “Finan! These men have been here before!”
You and Osferth begin attempting to fight the men off, heavily outnumbered, as Finan does his best to get Ingrith on her horse to rouse the men of Rumcofa. The leader of the Saxons, Bresal as you’ve come to learn, approaches you and Osferth along with another man. Osferth looks at you as you grip your blade, ready to stand beside him and fight. The two of you take down one of the men, but Bresal remains standing. You lose your blade in the scuffle and run to find a new one, knowing Osferth needs you. You turn to see Ingrith falling from her horse, Osferth being attacked, everything happened in slow motion and yet all too quickly.
Then you see it. Bresal’s blade running Osferth through. You hear an agonizing scream and wonder to yourself where it came from, only to realize it was you. You run to him, watching as blood pours from his mouth.
“No, no,” you murmur, tears falling down your cheeks as you watch him convulse with pain, “Osferth? Don’t you dare die on me!”
You place pressure on his wound as Finan, Ingrith, and Cynleaf approach, blood pouring faster than you can stem it. Osferth moves a bloodstained hand up to touch your face, grunting with the exertion it takes. You sob as you begin praying to Odin, to Frigg, to Freya, anyone who’ll hear your words.
“Freya,” you sob hysterically, “Hear my prayer. Spare this man, I beg of you. Don’t take him from me.”
And deep inside, you hear a voice, asking for what you’re willing to give in return. You think for but a moment before silently offering what is most precious to you. The chance to have a family. Your ability to bear children.
A moment later, you’re shocked when the bleeding stems, almost immediately beginning to clot. You stare in amazement before looking up at the sky, silently thanking Freya for her mercy. You watch as the color returns to Osferth’s cheeks and he gazes up at you, his head still in your lap.
“My love,” he mumbles, eyes locked on yours.
“Osferth,” you whisper breathlessly, “All the gods… They cannot sever us,” he smiles weakly up at you, reaching a shaky hand to rest on your cheek, “If I were dead and you were still fighting for life, I’d come back from the darkness. Back from the pit of hell to fight at your side.”
Your words move Osferth, as he slowly sits up, his strength returning to him as he gazes at you, full of awe, “How is this possible? You saved me and… How?”
“I offered Freya something in return for your life.”
Osferth furrows his brow, “What did you offer?”
“It doesn’t matter,” you insist, resting a hand on his face, “What matters is that you’re alive-”
“What did you offer?” he insists firmly, resting a hand over yours.
You take a deep breath before speaking, “My ability to bear children.”
“Your what?”
Osferth’s face goes white with shock, his eyes widening at what you’ve just told him. Tears well up in his eyes as he shakes his head. You begin assuring him that it was worth it to you, that you don’t care about that, that all that matters to you is that he’s alive.
“How could you give that up for me?” Osferth feels the tears streaming down his face as he questions you, “You’ve always wanted to have a family. To be a mother, more than anything. How could you give that all up? That’s crazy-”
“People do crazy things,” you cut him off and smile at him, almost shyly, “When they’re in love.”
Osferth’s lips immediately find yours and you vaguely hear Finan exclaiming “I knew it” in the background, but all you can bring yourself to care about right now is the feeling of the man you love’s lips on your own. Osferth holds your face in his hands, pulling you closer to him as you wrap your arms carefully around his neck, allowing yourself to cry as you kiss.
Finan rides off to meet your father, leaving you in charge of caring for both Osferth and your brother. Young Uhtred insists that he’s fine, giving you a knowing smile before turning to Osferth and giving him the kind of glare only a brother can give. You burst into laughter as you sit beside Osferth, pampering him, intent on taking care of him until he heals. He insists that he has, showing that, miraculously, his wound has already begun to scar. Osferth insists he feels no pain. And that in and of itself gives you a thought.
That evening, you take him by the hand and bring him to your bed.
“I want to give myself to you,” you say softly, “I almost lost you, Osferth. I-”
He rests his forehead against yours, brushing his thumb against your lower lip, “You’re sure?”
You nod vehemently, “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my entire life. I love you.”
“And I love you.”
You help him out of his clothes, your hand ghosting over the scar from his wound, and he helps you out of yours. The two of you gaze at each other’s bare bodies in admiration. You gently push Osferth to lay down on your bed, sitting on your knees between his legs. He stares at you curiously as you move your hand along his length, so thick that you can’t even encircle it entirely. You stroke it once or twice, earning a throaty groan from the man beneath you before you take him into your mouth. He’s so big that you almost gag when he bucks his hips slightly, but the moans of your name he lets out leave you wanting nothing more than to pleasure him. You begin bobbing your head up and down on him, hands moving to cup his balls, massaging them gently as you hollow your cheeks, wanting to make him feel your love for him. Osferth’s hands grasp at the sheets on your bed as you continue your task. Osferth admires the way you gaze up at him with hooded eyes, your lips wrapped around him so perfectly. He spills himself into your mouth, watching as you swallow, giving him that lazy grin of yours as you pull off with an obscene popping sound.
Osferth pulls you closer to him, sitting up as he kisses you, holding you by the waist so that you straddle his lap. He feels himself beginning to harden again as he feels your warmth against him, your bare chest against his. He bites down on your neck, reveling in the tiny whimpers you let out as you feel his length rubbing against you.
“Are you ready?” he whispers against your skin.
You nod, moving your hand to guide him inside of you. There’s an uncomfortable sting and Osferth panics as he sees your eyes water, but you assure him you just need a moment. The two of you stay like that, locked in an intimate embrace, his arms around your back and yours around his neck. The two of you exchange tender, adoring kisses as the pain slowly ebbs, giving way to something far more pleasurable. You give Osferth a tiny nod and gently push him to lay back, beginning to move your hips against his. He grips your hips tightly, helping you ride him, watching reverently as you sit above him, as though you are the one he worships.
He fills you up perfectly, and you feel him deep inside of you, reaching places you didn’t even know existed. Your thighs tremble and Osferth notices this, flipping the two of you over and setting his own pace as he ruts against you. It’s desperate and passionate, the two of your lips meeting over and over. You feel tears spill from your eyes at how good it feels, Osferth quickly kissing them away.
“Don’t ever leave me,” you whisper against his lips.
“Never,” he promises, continuing to snap his hips against yours.
You gasp as he hits a spot inside of you that makes you feel as though you’re on fire, and he knows it. Osferth gives you a cheeky grin, hitting that spot over and over, feeling you squeezing around him tighter and tighter.
“You’re so perfect,” he murmurs, “Are you going to come for me?”
“I’m close,” you say, mewling his name as his hand moves between the two of you to play with your pearl, “Osferth…”
He circles his thumb around the sensitive nub before pinching slightly, sending you over the edge. But he isn’t finished and continues bucking his hips against yours, almost desperately.
“I love you,” he mumbles, “More than life itself. I’ll never leave you, I’ll never hurt you. I promise.”
“Osferth,” you moan, “I love you so much.”
He continues moving against you, bringing you to your second climax, white hot pleasure washing over you as he spills himself deep inside you. He collapses on top of you, both of you breathing heavily, gazing into each other’s eyes. Osferth presses a tender kiss to your forehead, the two of you falling asleep, wrapped up in each other’s warm embrace.
A few weeks later, the two of you are married, and a few months later? You begin noticing that you’ve been unable to keep down your breakfast. Your belly begins to swell and you know that it can’t be what you’re thinking. You gave that up to save your love and have no regrets about it. But then, one day, as you and Osferth walk hand in hand outside your shared home, you feel it. The smallest flutter. You pause in your tracks before you feel it again.
And you know.
You bring Osferth’s hand to your stomach and he feels it too, the brightest smile you’ve ever seen him give breaking across his face.
“My love,” he murmurs, sitting on his knees to bury his face in your stomach, “You’re… You’re going to be an incredible mother.”
“And you will be the best father,” you say, resting a hand on his head as he presses a kiss to your stomach.
You yelp as Osferth lifts you into his arms, carrying you back into the house and tossing you onto your shared bed. He crawls over you, pulling your dress from your body, kissing a trail down your chest, taking one pebbled peak in his mouth, suckling at it for a moment, grinning up at you. You sigh, your hand twisting in his hair as he moves his mouth further down, to the apex of your thighs, his tongue delving into your center. You moan as he laps at your folds, holding your thighs apart as he moves his tongue against you, his nose nuzzling against your pearl. He brings you to your peak sooner than you anticipated before moving his lips to focus solely on your sensitive nub. You cry out with pleasure as he suckles at it, nipping at it ever so slightly, his fingers finding their way inside your core as he continues to use both them and his mouth on you, bringing you to your peak again.
Already hard, he sheds his clothes and you gaze at his length, already weeping for you, crying out his name as he pushes inside you, still feeling the delicious stretch after so many times of joining as one.
“Going to watch you grow round with my babe,” he mumbles as he pounds into you, over and over, “Going to fill you up, going to breed you again the minute that babe is born. Going to take such good care of you, my pretty little wife.”
“Yes, Osferth,” you whimper, “Do it, I’m all yours.”
He’s relentless in his movements, his balls slapping against you as he thrusts against you repeatedly, bringing you, already oversensitized to your peak once more.
The two of you lay side by side, gazing at each other.
“I love you, my sweet girl,” he murmurs, taking your hand, kissing each one of your fingertips as he smiles at you.
“And I love you,” you say, eyes closing as you fall asleep and dream of your future with your beloved husband.
Summary: You are Finan's sister. You live in a village in Scotland, near the border with Northumbria. You lead a quiet life until your brother decides to visit you with his boys and your life changes completely.
Pairing: Osferth x fem!reader
Author’s note: Hey you (:
Now I am finally sharing my little Osferth story with you. The events are a little different from the story in the series. (No, Osferth will not die either).
I hope you will enjoy it!
English is my second language, please forgive me if I made any mistakes (:
Word count: 2.9 k
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5
Other stories of mine
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The Danes around you jump up immediately. You almost slip off Ubba's lap when he jumps up, but he holds you by the arm and prevents you from falling. In the distance you see the boats shining brightly, flames leaping up. You have to suppress a smile.
Ubba has his arm around your waist and you look at him a little startled. Gently he puts his hand to your cheek, "You go to my tent, I'll be with you as soon as I can"
You nod, but you don't think of going into his tent.
As the Danes push forward and approach the dancing flames of the fire, you instinctively move away from the crowd. The more you retreat, the greater the influx of Danes drawn to the shimmering waters. Chaos erupts and covers the vast expanse with its disorder. The dark sky becomes a canvas lit by flickering flames, casting an unsettling glow on your surroundings. Anxiously, you let your gaze wander over the scene, desperate for a glimmer of familiarity or a place of refuge where you can hide. Lost in the turmoil, you wander aimlessly, your footsteps steeped in aimlessness, desperately keeping an eye out for the boys or hoping that one of them will be able to spot you amidst the commotion.
Suddenly your arm is grabbed.
You are pulled around brutally, a Dane holds your arm. He wants to pull you with him. You look at him, startled.
He grins at you, "Ubba's woman... he won't mind if I hump you tonight..."
In a moment of quick determination, you refuse to pause and give him a resounding slap. His expression remains unimpressed, however, leaving you momentarily discouraged.
His grip on your arm tightens and elicits a faint whimper from your lips. Despite your valiant efforts to resist, his strength asserts itself and drives you inexorably forward. A wave of panic courses through your veins, and you realise how effortlessly he controls your movements and what danger lies ahead. Filled with panic, you desperately cling to a last glimmer of hope and let out a piercing scream.
The Dane seems startled by this and looks at you a little irritated. Then he hits you in the face with the flat of his hand. Your face flies to the side, your breath catches, your ears ring. You have closed your eyes. When you look at him again, he continues to drag you towards a tent. You are only remotely aware of everything, your body is numb.
He stops in front of the tent and looks at you. He grins at you and opens his mouth. But just as he is about to say something, he is pierced from behind with a sword. A sword goes through his chest and he spits blood at you. You cry out again and the Dane goes down. You look at the floor where the Dane is lying in his own blood, staring at you lifelessly. You tremble a little, but when you look up, you see Osferth standing there.
He looks at you a little worried.
You jump into his arms, "Osferth!" you literally scream as you fall around his neck.
You breathe in deeply and at that very moment his scent wafts towards you. Immediately your body begins to relax, a sense of calm comes over you, despite the overwhelming feelings that threaten to engulf you. A smile plays around your lips, even though you are on the verge of tears.
With a firm grip, he encloses you tightly in his embrace, his face nestling gently in your strands of hair. Time seems to stand still as you linger in each other's arms, a fleeting moment that stretches into an eternity. It feels like you are floating in a heavenly realm, far removed from the trials of the mortal world. But Osferth interrupts the moment, abruptly snatches you away from it and brings you back to reality. He takes your hand and leads you on.
The chaos in the camp continues unabated, a horde of Danes leaping back and forth, their destination unclear amid the confusion. Thick clouds of smoke hang menacingly overhead, obscuring the surroundings.
Relentlessly, Osferth leads you on, and you cling to his arm with both hands for comfort and support. A soft cough escapes your lips as you try to take in the turbulent scene around you. And then suddenly someone grabs you and forcibly turns your body to meet his gaze.
"Alva!" Ubba says to you as he suddenly stands in front of you.
"I told you to go into my tent," he says to you. Danes are still running wild around you.
Before you can answer, he wants to caress your cheek. But then his gaze falls on Osferth. His gaze drops further down to the cross hanging around Osferth's neck.
"A Christian? What are you doing here?! You started the fire!" growls Ubba suddenly.
He walks furiously towards Osferth and grabs him by the neck. He lifts Osferth, his legs dangling in the air.
"I've always wanted to see a Christian hanging on a cross," says Ubba a little in anticipation.
A fleeting scream escapes your lips and pierces the air for a moment. Osferth's hand instinctively reaches for his knife as you try to grab Ubba's arm from behind. But reflexively he strikes back, and the sheer force of his blow hurls you through the air. Your frail body is too weak to withstand the impact and you are thrown backwards, causing a nearby tent to collapse beneath you. A painful groan escapes your lips as you lie on the ground.
You lift your heavy head with difficulty and see Osferth still floating in the air. Your gaze wanders to the side, where an axe lies idle beside a crackling fire. Without hesitation, you reach out your hand for the weapon. As you stand up, you falter at first, your movements uncertain. But with determination in your eyes, you make your way back to Ubba and Osferth.
Ubba, seemingly unimpressed by Osferth's weight, begins to walk away with Osferth, while Osferth desperately tries to free himself.
As you stand behind Ubba, you simply strike. You drive the axe into Ubba's back. Ubba cries out and lets go of Osferth. Osferth staggers backwards and holds his neck. He coughs and tries to catch his breath. His gaze is startled and meets yours. Ubba goes to the ground. He kneels and gasps. He turns his head in the direction from which the blow came. When he recognises you, he looks at you almost sadly.
"Alva...?" he whispers in disbelief until he just falls over in front. You look helplessly at Osferth, but he seems overwhelmed by the situation. You drop to your knees for a moment and hear Ubba coughing. You take the axe and put it in Ubba's hands. Then you take a step back. Your hands tremble. Again you look at Osferth and he steps towards you.
"We really should get out of here," he says to you, before grabbing your arm again. You just nod.
You try to walk through the hustle and bustle. The smoke grows thicker and thicker, virtually enveloping the camp. Again someone grabs you from behind and you cry out. Osferht immediately turns around, but as you look down your body, you see Finan's large hand gripping your hip.
"Hey, it's me," Finan says to you. You look at him, startled.
"Come on, let's get ya out of here," Finan says to you. You just nod again.
On the way out of the camp, Uhtred joins you. Neither of you says anything, you just keep walking.
You make it into the forest and stop in the shelter of the trees. You are all breathing heavily. Finan wraps his arms around you and you just press your face against his chest.
"Are ya all right?" he asks you quietly.
You nod, "Nothing happened to me," you whisper. He smiles slightly and squeezes you a little tighter.
As footsteps echo through the air, your senses awaken to the presence of another. In perfect unison, your collective gaze settles on a silhouette shrouded in mystery. But as the figure draws closer, a wave of familiarity washes over you and you recognise Sihtric. Immediately, calm returns and the tension that had briefly reasserted itself falls away.
Then you realise what you have done. You look at Uhtred.
"Uhtred... I have killed Ubba," you say suddenly.
"Ya did what??" says Finan.
Uhtred's eyes widen.
"You killed one of the greatest warriors?" he asks incredulously.
"Was he asleep?" he asks further.
You shake your head, "He... He wanted to kill Osferth... had him by the collar... I had to do something," you say quietly.
Finan closes his arms further around you. Uhtred's eyes fall on Osferth, but his gaze is fixed on the ground. But as if sensing Uhtred's gaze, he simply nods slightly.
Uhtred looks at you again, "Well... I guess we have one less problem then," Uhtred finally says.
You bury your face in Finan's chest.
"Let's go back," Finan chimes in. No one needs to say anything, you start moving at the same time and head towards the village.
You are just happy to be out of the camp. But still, the guilty conscience gnaws at you a little that you simply drove the axe into Ubba's back... But you feel a little better when you think of the lives, especially Osferth's, he would have taken otherwise.
You enter the village where life goes on as if the turmoil of the past two days in a camp run by Danes had never happened. The burden of having defeated one of the most formidable warriors still weighs on you, but you hug yourself tightly for comfort and follow the boys as they lead you into the welcoming warmth of the inn.
You take a seat at a table and immerse yourself in the lively atmosphere that surrounds the pub. The air is filled with melodious tunes and the happy movements of dancing souls. As you look up, your gaze meets Sihtric's, standing in front of you with a frothy mug of ale. A slight smile curls your lips as you accept the offer, and resolutely you lift the mug to your lips and take a deep, satisfying sip.
At that moment you confide in Uhtred and tell him every detail that has transpired over these two days. You tell him about the painstaking efforts it took to gather the crucial information, about Ubba's plan to assemble a massive Danish force to attack Winchester, and about the certainty that a secret ally was waiting for them there.
Uhtred nods again and again and listens to you attentively. In the noise of the inn, there is silence at your table for a short time.
"I must tell Alfred," Uhtred finally says.
"But Ubba is dead, isn't he?" asks Osferth.
Uhtred looks at him, "But the Danes are still gathered," he says to him. Osferth nods slowly.
"We will leave as soon as possible," Uhtred announces.
You drink from your ale while the boys talk about the quickest way to get to Winchester. You notice Osferth quietly get up and walk over to the counter. You put your mug down and walk behind him. You stop behind him and notice that he is tense.
"Os... I..." you begin, and Osferth turns slightly to face you.
"I... nothing…," but he interrupts you and shakes his head slightly, "No... I don't even want to hear what you had to do...", he smiles at you a little sadly.
You nod subtly at him and try to smile. As you stand silently facing each other, eyes averted, a hint of amusement flits across Uhtred's lips as he watches you at the counter.
Finally, Osferth lets out a soft sigh and tenderly runs his fingers over yours. He tilts his head slightly towards your table and together you make your way back to the boys.
The time at the inn passes quickly, and tiredness overcomes you all. You quickly retire to your room where you will spend the night. As you have spent the last two days in the Danish camp, the limited accommodation only offers four beds. Surprisingly, there are no complaints as you settle down next to Osferth. Amidst the growing symphony of snoring, you and Osferth lie facing each other. His touch gently caresses your face.
"I was so worried about you... I didn't really sleep..." he whispers. You just kiss him. For too long you have had to do without his soft lips. Long and passionate, your lips move around each other. At some point you interrupt your kiss. You smile at each other.
"Os... I...", you begin, but Osferth wants to interrupt you. But before he can say anything, you simply put your hand over his mouth.
"I haven't slept with Ubba," you finally say.
You feel him smile slightly against your palm. You slowly take your hand away from his mouth and see him nod gently. You kiss again and he closes his arms tightly around you.
The soft, comforting warmth emanating from his body soothes your soul. There has been no such comfort for the past two days, but as you rest in Osferth's arms, you are overcome by a wonderful feeling. Gradually you surrender to slumber, guided by the peace, and fall asleep.
You spend the next morning at the inn. You have breakfast together. You want to spend the day in this village before you ride on to Winchester. The day passes without any major events, except that Osferth seems to be somehow tense. But you don't want to worry about that. Finan distracts you too much for that. He is by your side all the time. Again and again he asks you if everything is really all right, if you need anything. You deny everything and have to giggle again and again.
"Finan, I'm really fine," you finally say and gently kiss his cheek. He hugs you and has to smile.
"I'm just glad you're back," he murmurs into your hair.
In the evening you are all together in the inn. Like most of the people in the village. Laughter and conversation fill the room again. You drink a lot and your mood is boisterous. You laugh a lot and after a while you realise that you are quite drunk.
But that doesn't stop Finan and Sihtric from getting more ale. They walk through the crowd of people and over to the bar. You stand with Osferth and Uhtred and drink the rest of your ale.
Suddenly two ladies enter the inn. Uhtred sees the ladies and has to grin slightly. He leans a little towards Osferth, "Osferth... I know those ladies... This is your chance," he whispers to him.
Osferth's gaze wanders upwards in irritation, but quickly turns to slight shock as he catches sight of the ladies. His eyes widen and his cheeks blush slightly as he thinks about what he has experienced with the ladies.
He takes a sip of his ale and casts a nervous glance in Uhtred's direction to steady himself. After an encouraging nod from Uhtred, Osferth realises that it is now or never - he must uncover y/n's true feelings towards him.
With a deliberate step, he moves away from you and no longer stands between you and Uhtred. Like a hypnotic magnet, he attracts the ladies' attention. A radiant smile adorns their faces as they gracefully walk towards Osferth.
"Osferth!" they say almost simultaneously and fall around his neck. Your eyes immediately fall on the ladies hanging around his neck. You look irritated at Uhtred, but he just shrugs his shoulders innocently. You hear the ladies giggling and look back at Osferth. But he only grins slightly. You cannot believe your eyes.
"Osferth?" you ask hesitantly. But he is not really paying attention to you, he is distracted by the two hands stroking his chest. Now Uhtred looks a little irritated too, his plan seems to be going wrong.
You repeat yourself, "Osferth?" you say in a firmer voice, but he still doesn't listen to you.
You are getting angry.
"Very well," you finally say. You turn around and want to leave. You look at Uhtred, who is looking at Osferth in irritation, because he doesn't seem to notice how angry you are getting.
Then you get an idea.
You take a step towards Uhtred, "May I?" you ask him and smile.
He looks even more irritated and then you kiss him. You let your hands slide down his neck and pull him a little towards you. Uhtred hesitates at first, but then finally gives in. Maybe because he is getting weak or has already had too much ale, but you don't care. His hands wrap around your waist. Your lips move against each other. And then Osferth looks up and takes in the scene. He is shocked and at first just looks. When he regains consciousness, he only stammers, "What...? what?!"
But neither of you react. Osferth tears himself away from the ladies, who look at him in irritation.
As laughter suddenly approaches and suddenly Sihtric and Finan are standing with you again with new ale in their hands. As Finan looks around, his laughter disappears. He sees Uhtred's hands wrapped around you and you kiss. Behind you, an angry Osferth.
"Uhtred!!! Keep your hands off my sister!!!" roars Finan.
