Blair Witch Vol 1-3 Ad (Computer Games #120, Nov. 2000)

Blair Witch Vol 1-3 ad (Computer Games #120, Nov. 2000)

the lady, the prince, & the sword

[in honor of spooky season]

aemond targaryen x fem!reader

abstract: over one hundred years after the dance, you grow up as a lady in the ruins of Harrenhal. One day, you get a little too curious about the prince and his dragon rumored to be rotting at the bottom of the lake, and awaken something beyond your understanding. 🕯️this fic is inspired by a post from @sapphirevhagar 🕯️ themes: spooky harrenhal, smut, ghost/undead aemond, aemond as a war criminal, forbidden romance if you squint, you are the lady of harrenhal, dark aemond (but like, he's a dark character so I just tried to stay true to who he is), piv & hand stuff

lucy's notes: ao3 link. I tried to make my characterization of aemond as true as I could, but I won't lie it was hard in this scenario!! I don't think he'd be the type to just fuck someone (but maybe he would...who knows), but for the purposes of this spooky halloween fic I tried to make it as realistic as I could. maybe he would if he was pussy starved for a century, so that's what I'm going for. ENJOY!

word count: 8.6k

The sun had struck its highest point in the sky, your very own guiding star to the lake below it.

From this bluff above God’s Eye, you could see all of what you called home: a boundless land, resilient despite centuries of war that had left each tree as a tombstone watered with spilled blood. And yet, the land was more alive because of it, or perhaps despite it. You weren’t sure which, but you knew just as well as any other riverman that if you listened close enough, you could feel the breath of the land under your feet.

The rolling evergreens murmured when the winds ran through their branches. Winter was coming, and soon the jeweled blue of God’s Eye would coalesce into bitter sheets of ice. But for now, the first light gusts coaxed the water’s surface into gentle catspaws, still forgiving enough on your skin to welcome you into the lake. There was no barrier between your toes and the grass. Your daily swims were the one time you went without boots, an activity of yours that the Lord of Harrenhal detested. Mud is unbecoming of a lady , your father would say. It was, but so was walking in squelching boots back to your chambers.

The faint line of sand at your favorite lakeside spot had finally breached your toes. It was better than all of the rest. Much of the lake had no such comfortable entry as this: a large swath of sand perfectly divoted for entry. Silence was a familiar friend here. It was a true silence, unlike the faint drips and echoes that seeped through your walls.

And so the last thing you were expecting was company. “And what finds my Lady at this cursed corner of God’s Eye?”

“My good Patrek, I did not expect to see you here.” Hiding your fright was easier said than done. An old family friend of the less noble type, with a face worn by time and a voice weathered by wind. Onlookers were rare here, and you wondered if he had followed you all the way from the keep.

“You should not be here, my Lady. You know the stories, educated as you are.”

You did—of how the very burrows of sand that now welcomed your toes were dug by Daemon Targaryen’s dragon Caraxes in a death-crawl to shore after his rider and opponent had perished. Every riverman knew of the tale.

“I swim here often. If there is a curse, I hope I have been spared it.” Brushing off a stubborn elder was something you were quite familiar with.

“Then you know the dragon’s blood soaked into the soil, dying where you stand. The very ground you walk on is damned.” His voice gruffed against his throat, but there was no mistaking the concern there.

It wasn’t that you didn’t believe in the power of such things—as a Lady of Harrenhal you knew very well from your own accord how often things are not always what they seemed. But even some tales were too far-fetched for your own belief.

Besides, if you heeded every tale and story from your surrounding men, you’d hardly be able to leave your chambers.

Telling an old riverman what to do was not a task you’d expected to find yourself involved in at this hour. The look in your eye did more talking than your words. “I appreciate your concern, Patrek. But I insist, I am more than alright.”

With one last stare, he dismissed himself. Thank the gods.

In front of you, fragile blades of grass dared to peek through the large sand trough. It was a perfect pathway to the water, gently sloping and kinder on your feet than the rocky mud surrounding the rest of the lake was. If this truly was Caraxes’ doing, he had carved such a fine entrance to the water. It had never regrown. Barren, unlike the greater parts of the rest of the lake—perhaps the agony of such a creature reshaping the dirt with its claws, belly dragging and wingless on one side, had scarred the land permanently. You could see it.

The water lapped at your toes now. Dragons were a far away concept, from a land and world that no longer existed, yet you wondered if their deaths really were something so traitorous to the gods that the land could never fully be right again.

Stepping further and further inside, the light billow of your dress danced in the water. There were times, like a moonlit night, where you would forgo your dress and let the lake feel you bare. Those moments were rare, and ladies hardly had enough privacy and virtue to spare to allow such brazen activities—but you indulged in them when the moon called. With a final push of your toes, you dove your hands ahead of you and released. For a second, you were flying, letting the water carry you before you pushed against it once more. Smiling came easy here.

And yet Patrek’s words lingered. None of the information was new. Perhaps it was the graveness of his voice that haunted you.

Words could melt in the water, and his were no exception. The water held you as your mother might have, or a lover—all over, bringing you a comfort you could find nowhere else. You ran your fingers and toes in the sand below you, feeling it sift in the weightlessness between them.

The sun had sunk low in the sky when you emerged from the lake, mind and body calm in your daily ritual.

A new day had brought with it new curiosities—it would be easier to say that getting the tales out of your head was a simple task, but over the course of the previous day, it had proved much more difficult than you’d hoped.

Sleep had evaded you, and restlessness drew you to the library. Each book was half rotted away from moisture that settled between each page and binding stitch. The candle light in your hand fought a losing battle with the mist, surrendering to a low bruising blue. Even still, you had found what you came there for.

It was readable despite the poor lighting. Dragons in the Riverlands were a sore subject—it was not a surprise to find that many, if not all of the manuscripts on dragons were loathsome at best, and near traitorous to your Targaryen overlords at worst.

Prince Daemon Targaryen and his dragon Caraxes dueled Prince Aemond Targaryen and his dragon Vhagar on the 22nd day of the 5th moon of 130 AC. Dragon shrieks rippled in the wind and dragonfire flamed into the sunset so bright that the sky itself was said to be alight. Prince Daemon is said to have leapt onto Vhagar, plunging the ancestral Targaryen Valyrian steel sword Dark Sister through his nephew’s good eye. Caraxes is believed to have crawled to shore before releasing a dying shriek. Prince Daemon, Prince Aemond and Vhagar’s bones are believed to remain at the bottom of the lake today.

Portraits of the two men and their dragons had accompanied the passage, with sketches of the battle gathered from the artists and bards surrounding God’s Eye. Long platinum hair framed both men, though Daemon lacked Aemond’s youth and sapphire eye.

What a peculiar thing, a sapphire eye. Imagining a dragon as large as Vhagar sunk deep beneath your nose was a strange thing, fitting for a strange man with a sapphire in his socket. Trying to imagine a creature, let alone a dragon as big as her, was incomprehensible. If she really was the size of a small keep, how could one command her?

Aemond Targaryen had—and perhaps that made him one of the most god-like Targaryens of all Targaryens to exist. And now he was damned to spend his eternity bound to the dark blue dungeon that was the depths of God’s Eye.

Your toes had found the water’s edge once again, among the supposed cursed grounds of Caraxes last breathing place. If one dragon’s death made the land cursed, then surely the death of two doubled it.

Today was a different venture than you were used to. The sun was even more forgiving than usual, warming your skin before you ever touched the water. It was a compulsion that drew your limbs to swim further from shore, an unexplainable magnetic lord that your limbs gladly obliged. With a hefty suck of air, you submerged your head. The chamber of echoing silence took its hold of your ears as you sank deeper and with a blink, you opened your eyes. The sun rays refracted in planes off of the water’s surface, down to the awaiting bottom. Only on the most clear days were you able to see this far, and yet it still wasn’t far enough to reach its furthest depths.

Arms and legs tugged on the water. You sank deeper, your hair and dress haloing your floating figure. Long tendrils of curly pondweed and brittle water nymph followed the soft current rippling through the lake. You could feel its light pull, but your limbs were much stronger than the fragile plants that lay there. Swimming forward into deeper territory, large rocks begin to take shape, with their own water thread and algae sprouting from aged cracks.

It was so faint, you almost missed it. A sparkle or two in the darkness, a trap of sunlight where sunlight didn’t belong anymore, just out of your sight. Another pull of your arms and you were closer: close enough to almost see what could create such a glimmer. Your lungs were calling but you just needed to get one more look—

Despite the near fade to darkness, the shape was unmistakable: a silver pommel, jutting out from beyond the deep. The dragon wings at the hilt were frozen in flight. Realization laid its heavy hand upon your chest and the call of your lungs became too loud to ignore. Frantically swimming to the surface, the bubbles spilled from your lips as the water became warmer as the sun drew closer. Your rift of the surface was punctuated by the loud gasp of your aching chest. Save for your weak disruption, the top of the lake sat as tranquil and undisturbed as you had left it.

If it’s what you thought it was—

A few more deep breaths later and you were down below the surface once again, heart thrumming with revelation. This time, you knew exactly how deep you needed to go. You don’t know how you didn’t see it before, but the glint was visible even near the surface. It was a distant sparkle in the underworld, as if it was capturing the blue essence of God’s Eye itself. Blood pumped through your ears in the chamber of the deep as your arms tugged, stomach threatening to turn despite your precious conservation of air.

A sapphire and a sword, each a shining beacon of their own. The skull which held both tilted up towards the heavens. Beyond it, skeletal arms reached forward, nearly upward. Part of you knew that the same buoyancy which allowed you to float was the same that held him, but another part of you wondered if at the time of the prince’s death he was reaching towards the sky in hopeless defiance. His once royal leathers and armor were rusted and torn, ebbing like the eel grass that had taken root. Time submitted all to its will, even princes, leaving only rot behind.

The incomprehensible became comprehensible with one look downwards: crumpled and black, you realized it was not depth, but dragon bones themselves that seemed to create the darkness of the water that surrounded him. Thick spires of obsidian bone curled around what you could only put together as a rib cage the size of a small keep. Her skull was far from her body, large eye sockets gaping and maw stretched with rows of dagger teeth. The very maw that was the last sight of many in the Riverlands.

If you wanted to reach the surface, you needed to swim now. But for a few more moments, the urge to swim just a bit further was greater than your want for air. You don’t know what possessed you—it could have been the lack of oxygen, or that you were just fond of shiny things on occasion, but you reached for the bright pommel that was nearly offering itself out to you and pulled. The blade was heavier than you were anticipating, as much of a novice as you were, but you persisted. Drawing your arms tight into your chest and using your whole body to swim against it, you did your best to wrack it free from its hold in the prince’s skull. It felt almost wrong to pull so hard, but you persisted. Bubbles jutted from your mouth in the struggle until it wracked free.

It was now the second time you surfaced, and your gasp was much louder than the last. The sword was heavy in your arms, wanting to drag you back down to the bottom with it and join the prince and his dragon. There was no particular reason for taking it—it was a beautiful thing, untouched by the same rot and ruin as the prince and his dragon below. A sneaky voice in your head reminded you that a relic like this could pay to fill Harrenhal’s coffers for half the year or more if returned to the Targaryens, yet that is not why you sought it.

In fact, you weren’t sure you wanted anyone to know what you had taken, and made quick work to wrap it in your swimming dress on your way back to the castle. A large object wrapped in cloth was not subtle, but the impossibility of manning such a monstrosity of a castle worked in your favor. Taking careful steps and hiding in the many alcoves to weave your way back to your chambers without spectacle proved a successful effort.

The afternoon had come and gone with little affair, besides a light dusting of rain. It rained at Harrenhal often. And often, you found it peaceful. The rain was a part of life, and the wetness with it.

But as the late afternoon carried on to evening, it became no such rain. The sky had darkened hours before sundown, bright colors and pretty horizons forgotten behind the undulating turmoil above you. The thunder went beyond simple sounds to full-bodied vibrations, shaking you from the bottom of your feet through your ears. It was not a storm, but a wroth sky. You were certain that no castle for hundreds of miles was spared.

The buckets meant to catch runaway leaks in the stones were overflowing from the violent rain. Wind raided every crevice it could weave through, whistling just to force itself through. Servants and your family alike had begun sheltering the most fragile of belongings: books, letters, artifacts, and wood sensitive to rot. The torches fought against the wind, a harsh back-and-forth that flickered all light around you into senselessness.

Retiring early tended to suit you better in many storms, though you doubted you would be getting any meaningful sleep. Earlier, you had unfurled Dark Sister. A small bead of blood on your finger taught you that valyrian steel was as sharp as they say it is. The sword rested against your desk, tall and lethal, catching every strike of lightning as it came down through your window.

Between each bout of thunder and battering of lightning, you managed to find moments of rest. Each time a strike would come down threatening to tear down the walls, you sat up, clutching your down quilt in your hands. And each time, Dark Sister was glinting in the corner, winged hilt spread like a pouncing bird of prey.

And yet the greatest of your fears lay not with the presence of the ancestral Targaryen sword, but came in your winks of sleep: a figure, tall and eerie, in the corner of your chambers. Each time you had awoken, your eyes flashed across your room, fearing that you would find a creature of the night standing there.

Luckily, it seemed the shadow had made its home in your head and not your chambers. When daybreak began to glow behind the clouds, your relief came with it.

This day was much the same as the last, yet there were fewer and fewer channels for excess water to pour away from the hearths. There would be no swimming today, that much was certain; making the walk down to the lake alone would be enough to sink you into mud, never to be seen again. All were set to help the effort to keep what was able to be kept dry, lady or servant.

“An omen, I fear,” said Mathilda, a favored handmaiden of yours, as she threw another bucket of water through the open window to the yard below.

“An omen of what?”

“Harrenhal hasn’t seen a storm like this in over a decade. It went against all folk predictions.” she breathed worriedly, “A bad omen. Something isn’t right.”

You had tucked the sword under your bed about halfway through the night when you realized that looking at it only made your stomach churn. There it lay still and waiting, inches from your two pairs of feet.

But there was nothing you could do about it at this very moment. “Is there anything to do to protect against a bad omen?”

“It depends on what’s happened. But for most of my knowledge, I am afraid not. The damage has already been done.”

The pit in your stomach stirred. In the same evening, the thunder was just as fierce and lightning just as fiery. Regret compounded with every shake of thunder for the stolen sword. It was better left under the lake where it belonged—you knew that now.

Purple cracked the sky in two from your chamber window, illuminating everything once more. Folktale or omen, bad tidings or tall whispers, on the morrow you would return it.

And yet that was exactly what didn’t happen.

Instead, it had happened like this: servants had been rushing around the keep all morning, doing their best to keep the rush of water from entering the hall of a hundred hearths and touching the rugs. Half soaked and boots trailing water already, you didn’t make it past the tower of dread before the guards crossed their swords and insisted that you shall not pass. Too much water could sweep you off your feet and carry you away, they had said, pushing you back to your chambers while you discreetly held a covered Dark Sister to your side.

Tomorrow it was, then. Insistence would get you nowhere. A lady’s requests were either dutifully followed or carelessly ignored. It was imperative that the torrent stopped, or that you were able to more discreetly make your way to the lake.

The sword could not be by your side any longer. Perhaps you could leak your secret to septa Scully—you knew her folkwoman heart still beat inside her somewhere, and it could drive her to help you.

This night was no different from the last. Harrenhal and its eerie passageways and mangey essence had managed to frighten you as a girl, the darkest storms holding your fear hostage. It had been years since you had faced the same fear that licked at your erratic heart as it did now, tucked under your quilted down, thunder wracking itself outside.

It was in your head—the uncontrolled storm, the tales in your ear—they had simply wormed their way deep in your mind. It was a weak consolation, but your heart finally began its slowing.

A footstep in the darkness, outside your chambers, was enough to jolt it right back.

Any sense of sleep had left you now, and all of your focus rushed to your ears. Digging yourself deeper in the covers, you exhaled as quietly as you could in wait.

Just as you feared, there was another, and then another.

No matter how hard your forced your eyes shut, the fright remained, each boot knocking on the stone outside, coming closer, and closer, until,

The door creaked open softly, a rumble of storm to accompany it. Each finger, limb, and blink was frozen over. If you were still enough, perhaps whoever had opened the door would leave you behind. Each of your heart beats felt so loud it would give away your very existence.

The cold voice that met you instead was nearly enough to get your heart to stop beating all together. “You have something of mine.”

You dared not move, not even at the direct notice of your presence.

Squelching wet footsteps punctuated in between his words, each one slowly creeping closer to your bedside. “I know you’re here, little lady of Harrenhal. No amount of stillness in the world would hide you from me.”

With a swallow of fear, you scurried off of your bed to your night side table, hoping to distance yourself from the intruder. Sitting or laying felt too vulnerable for you to stay put.

“I don’t understand.” Were the only words you managed to choke out to the shadowed figure in front of you. There was no weapon for you to reach, unless you reached under the bed and grabbed—

“How do you not know? You took it from me.”

He lowered the hood of his cape. Platinum hair spilled down his shoulders over the black leather of his doublet that shined as if made from metal itself. His skin was pale as a soft moon, and a sapphire eye with a dash through his face—it was almost holy in nature, the beam of a celestial spell. Any thoughts of a common thief or crook left your mind. Even still, it did almost nothing to alleviate your fear, for you had recognized him.

The pages in your books didn’t do him justice. Any gasp that may or may not have left your lips was drowned out by a whip of lightning. “H-how?”

“Give me back my sword.” He answered plainly.

Shaky hands reached under the bed, eyes locked onto his fierce gaze as you gingerly felt for the hilt. Once in your grasp, you dragged it out, the weight even heavier in your arms than it had when you had pulled it to the surface. Your arm, lightly shaking, extended to his, the pommel and blade gleaming menacingly. His own palm lay over yours to reclaim the hilt. It was made of flesh, and warm—a mystery that evaded you.

You figured he might strap the sword to whatever sheath was on his side and go back to wherever he had come from, but instead, he set it aside. In yet another movement of unpredictability, he stepped closer.

“You must dive again and put it back yourself, I cannot do it for you.” His flesh eye studied you carefully, stepping forward to circle you. “But, you have given me reason to finally meet you.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve had no one but you to keep me company for one hundred years” Now, he was at a distance where there was more familiarity and the details of his face became more prominent out of the shadows. “You swim in the lake almost every day.”

You watched him attentively, attempting to understand what it was you were seeing. The fear of the unknown and absurd frightened you. It could be another dream, just like the one you had last night—but you were certain you were awake.

He stepped even closer, daring to reach out his hand and brush it over your cheek, as if feeling the lifeblood that beat beneath it. “Who are you, one that swims in God’s Eye?”

“I am a lady of Harrenhal” you paused, still trying to gauge his danger with your disbelief. “Who are you?”

“You know who I am.” His sapphire was a burning blue ember in the night.

Denial reared its unforgiving head into yours. Backing away, you tried to reason with yourself. “It’s a trick. Harrenhal plays tricks—I know this.”

“I assure you, I am no illusion. Stop fighting it.”

“I—” You let it sit for a moment. He stood in front of you, tall and enshadowed even in the faint candlelight.

A deep exhale was all you could manage, closing your eyes in resignation. “Yes, my prince. Are you going to kill me?”

“No, my lady. I’m not going to hurt you.” Watching the ground, you could see his black boots stepping towards you once more. “You did take my sword, but more than that, I simply wanted to meet the only one who dared swim down to me and Vhagar.”

He tilted your chin up to meet his own eye. There was something curious there, almost soft. Aemond’s hand was so gentle it soothed your rabbit’s heart. “Now you see me, made of flesh.”

Fear, though not absent, was no longer the only feeling that sent your blood pumping. The feeling of being wanted was something that you had coveted, yet always remained outside of your grasp. You imagined every movement of yours in the lake, how you had never been truly alone on your visits, even the ones in the deepest of summer where you shed your dress and embraced the lake with all of your bareness.

Crafted in the image of the gods themselves or not, you knew it was impossible for every Targaryen to look the way he did; the beauty of him was something unique, you knew it. Another bolt fractured the sky outside, its flash illuminating both of you. It played a trick on your eyes, almost closing some of the distance between you with blinding light.

“Are you scared of the storm?” Aemond loomed above you.

“I’m of this land. Storms do not scare me.”

“Did I frighten you?”

He had to have known your answer, but you indulged him. “Yes, you did, my prince.”

“You don’t need to be scared of me, my lady of God’s Eye.” He stepped closer, resting his left hand on your arm. His hair hung above your face now, a tilt of his head altering its course. “Does this frighten you?”

You felt the soft weight of his palm, fearing breathing for the simple movement of it. “No, my prince.” With a careful pause, you continued. “My apologies for taking your sword. I didn’t know—”

“You can repay me.” Aemond replied, his voice assured yet tender for your ears. “You have been tempting me in the lake for long enough.”

You nodded lightly, delicately reaching out for your palm to meet his chest. There was a warmth coming from within, not cold like an undead body might be. The prince, real or not, was closer to you than any other man had ever been. He reached down, gently tugging you into a soft kiss.

He was warm here too, and wet, much to your pleasure. Your lips opened to his own, mouths deftly sliding against one another. Aemond’s hand smoothed over your cheek, his palm nearly swallowing it whole. You moved together in a gentle sway, mouths delicately pressed together. In an act of boldness, you pressed your own body closer to his, your palm holding his side to steady yourself.

The tempest outside your windows beat on. Your hands moved to crook in his neck. The skin there was soft like his mouth, and you wondered if the rest of him was just as welcoming. Aemond began walking forward, holding and kissing you through his guidance. Your lower back bumped against your mattress, and you broke your lips apart.

It was perfection: the softness of this moment and the synergy of your movements against one another.

Until it wasn’t. Perhaps it was the way the lightning had framed him, thunder dividing you two. Within its roar came the cries of those he had forced to their knees in this very castle. The fall of wood as the huts of innocents burned to ash, Vhagar’s fire hot enough to meld armor and flesh to one. The scar he ripped across the belly of your homeland still hadn’t healed hundreds of years later, and you laid your lips on the man, or the entity of him, who had done it all.

Your eyes must have given you away.

“So you are frightened of me?” His subtle sultriness didn’t evade him, even in the light of the hell he had brought upon the earth.

“You, Aemond Targaryen—reigned terror on this land,” you recoiled slightly, lifting yourself up onto your bed to inch away from him.

He looked down, but any semblance of remorse was absent from his face. “I did. The fire that raged could be seen from the wall to Dorne.”

History was a funny thing—something that becomes more intangible the longer it’s dead, fresh marks haunting only those who lived through it. But Aemond was tangible, here in front of you somehow. To him, did it happen yesterday or did it feel like a lifetime away?

Aemond paused, lifting his eye to meet yours, kneeling onto the floor, holding your gaze. “Let me atone for my sins then, my lady of Harrenhal.”

Your breath hitched in your chest at the slight of his hands lifting your nightdress.

Sitting up, you slowly pulled yourself away. “This is wrong. You’re—”

“A monster?”

Your lack of response was as much of an answer as anything else.

“I am much more than that, I assure you.” You tried to pretend like the smoothing of his palm against your calf didn’t feel good. It was even harder to pretend that the man doing so wasn’t the most dashing man you’d ever seen, cursed by the gods or not.

A lip bite was all he would get from you, uncertain of how to navigate your desire with your morality.

“I can show you many things.” he hummed against your calf.

You fell back onto the bed, whining lightly in frustration of the sexual kind.

“If you only let me.”

You closed your eyes.

“Which would you rather do?” His princely voice was a seductor’s poison.

“I can show you how deeply sorry I am for what I did to your home,” he said with a mocking sorrow as the featherlight warmth of his lips and tongue kissed the inside of your legs, up to the inside of your knee, and to the most sensitive skin on the inside of the meat of your thigh. Any resolve that you had was wafted away by the trace of his fingers.

He pulled away, watching you carefully. “Or, you can show me how sorry you are for stealing my family’s sword. Which would you have it be?”

Gods bless your ancestors. You prayed that they were not unlucky enough to bear witness to what you were about to say—the closest thing to treason you could commit.

“I want to see your forgiveness, my prince.” You said, unsure of his next move but knowing somewhere within you that you would only indulge yourself further.

Aemond smiled smugly. It suited him. “How about you feel it instead?”

Hooking his fingers under your smallclothes, he rustled them off of you smoothly. You were exposed, cunt glistening and pooling wetness before him. Yes, definitely treason.

You wondered what sins those long dead and buried beneath would have had to commit to be forced to hear your moan as one of his fingers entered your hole, ready and wanting. Aemond leaned over you, silver and knowing smile once more falling around your face. Using his thumb, he found your pearl so neatly in between your pillowy lips, touching you there lightly.

“All wet, for me?” his smirk hung over you once more, satisfied by how quickly you dissolved under his hand. And what a joy it was to dissipate into a syrupy essence soaked mess.

“Have you ever touched yourself?” he asked, eye observing every rise and fall of your breasts.

“Well—yes, but,” you whimpered, shame in your gaze. “I’ve never been touched by anyone else.”

“A good, pretty maiden then.” He added another finger, your body sucking him in and oozing wetness in its own craving. Every brush of his thumb and curl of his digits left your mouth hanging open and eyes pleading at the man above you for more.

Aemond could act as in control as he wanted, but you saw the embers of greed in his eye and felt his hardness at your hip.

“I am so terribly sorry,” Aemond started in your ear, his fingers working their way inside of your honey soaked walls and thumb expertly toying with your swollen bud, “for absolutely nothing.”

The words fell on ears too consumed by the talent of his hands to give a damn. Warmth in your belly bloomed as if he had planted the sun in there himself, your shining juices dripping the length of his palm. You had never been brought to the point of near blindness and incapacity by pleasure before, your own fingers too untrained.

When the peak of your pleasure came, your arms wrapped around Aemond’s shoulders, moans breathy and full. Your walls throbbed and dripped around his fingers and your body flexed underneath his. Thunder was your friend, drowning out every noise that bubbled from your lips.

Aemond Targaryen, or whatever was left of him, had been starved of a woman’s taste for over one hundred years. He savored every bead of syrupy sex that dripped from your cunt onto his hands while you panted in the final glimmers of ecstasy.

It was difficult to help your eyelids from closing—the man had sent you to the hands of the gods and back. All you could do was savor the feel of him under your fingertips, rubbing lightly, until your sleep claimed you without your will or knowledge.

The dawn broke and you were alone once more, nothing but disorder in your head and gleaming sword under your bed.

Light thunder beat through the clouds, a solemn sun hidden behind them. The rain had eased a touch, but there had not been enough reprieve to make it any easier for the servants to clean up what was becoming a half-drowned castle.

Yet the water navigating through the crack in the stones over your head took up the least amount of room in your head. It was real. You knew it was from the echoes of ease in your limbs from the pleasure he played you to. If that wasn’t evidence enough, your slippery juices coated the nestle of your thighs.

It was wrong—you knew it. What had materialized between you and the prince was highly improper, not only as a lady, but as a lady of Harrenhal, the very castle in which he was partially responsible for the large number of roaming ghosts and of the land which he brought to ash out of his own anger.

Aemond had said that you needed to return the sword to the God’s Eye yourself. Perhaps you had tampered with something greatly out of your knowledge, and restoration was imperative for your own good and the good of the castle.

And yet the sword never moved from under your bed. Perhaps you had forgotten, or perhaps, you had conveniently discovered a hundred and one other tasks that needed your attention. And perhaps, the prince would come again.

You could pray for forgiveness from the river people later. It was your own secret shame to have and to hold, for no one else’s eyes or ears.

It was last light. Mathilda swept a dollop of water that landed on her forehead. “This storm won’t break.”

“I was a girl the last time one like this hit.” Of all the many storms that wracked this land, few had the same unbroken rainfall and loud slaughter of thunder.

There was apprehension and fright in her eyes. Mathilda’s movements were unnatural to anything you had seen her, to the point that it struck its own fear in you .

“What is it, Mathilda?”

“There’s only one storm I remember like this,” she started, worrying her hands with another bucket of water. “I didn't want to believe it yesterday. You were a girl, yes.”

“And what of it?”

“This land is old. A mass graveyard is what it is. Someone had tampered with something they shouldn’t have.”

Your stomach sank, and your secret with it. “What happened?”

“The man was never seen again. And there’s only one place around here people disappear to.”

The lake. You remembered him, a guard in your father’s command, the storm that tore on, and his disappearance marking the end of it. Everyone had figured he got swept away in the storm, but it seemed that Mathilda, among others, believed something different. Still—there were plenty of cursed objects lying around, perhaps you had gotten a touch more lucky with your object of choosing.

But perhaps it wasn’t such a dismissive endeavor, and you were more than a halfwit for thinking so. And yet, the night had fallen once more—leaving you with no other choice but to wait and see.

The blade seemed to find a light of its own even in the blackness of the storm ridden night, peaking just under your bed. Finding a rhythm in between the bolts of lightning and thunder happened over time, but the past few nights had begun to give you practice. Your apprehension kept you from your sleep nonetheless.

There was always something more beyond the surface, that much you knew was true, and life was no exception. Gods existed, you were sure of it, you just didn’t know how, or why, or where—but there was something about the thread of actions over the past handful of days that connected pieces together in a visceral way you had never fully encountered.

Through each beat of lightning, the truth of every tale that you had ever heard came into question: the cook turned white rat, forced to eat his own young; the children of the forest and the Green King of the Isle of Faces, Sharra the witch queen and her inability to die. Before now, you had not fully disbelieved, but rather doubted the ability of magic or the whims of the gods to make profound changes in an instant.

“You did not return my sword.”

His entrance was silent but interruption swift, or you had been so lost in your own head you failed to notice. There was little shock this time. You had been expecting him. He stood there for a moment in patience, your eyes and finding the details of his trench coat in the shadow. There was much less fright in you now than there had been at his first intrusion, and you swung your legs to sit at the edge of your bed.

“You disobeyed my request,” Aemond said, “I do not take kindly to those who disobey me. Why didn’t you return it, my lady of God’s Eye?”

It was a fool’s endeavor, a disregard of any consequences. Eyes wide and waiting, you could do nothing but speak your deepest truth.

“I did not want to.”

He crept forward, a creature of the shadows coming to enact its wrath. “Explain yourself.”

With a swallow of the last inklings of your pride and dignity, you replied. “Because I want more of what you did to me last night.”

He stood as a relic, everything from his hair and skin and coat shining from within, regarding you with an intensity you had never had anyone offer you before. Time existed nowhere in this room; past and present converged in the tides of thunder that swayed over your heads, and you wondered if the world outside of your door still stood or if there was nothingness.

“Who would have thought a lady to be so lustful? A lady of the Riverlands, no less.” His boots were off now, making his way to you like an animal preys upon what it desires to snatch in its claws.

You held your chin in an acceptance of his mockery and all that came with it. Because he was right, and because you didn’t care so long as no one knew of it. Aemond moved to stand in between your legs, and you tilted your head to meet his own eye.

“I suppose I will make an exception to my usual punishment since you have been so honest,” he reached to hold your face in his hands as if he was holding a holy grail. “Do you promise to make such an exception worth my while?”

“I promise.” You nodded as well as you could in his soft hold, eyes large and pleading.

The kiss that followed was soft, just as every other first touch between you had been—but it quickly became emboldened; a drop of satisfaction in a lake of craving. His hands slid down your sides, past the sensitivity of your waist and moving to grip the full flesh that sat on your thighs.

Chest to chest, you were pressed against him, feeling through every movement and flex of the muscle beneath his flesh. Moving once more, his hand slid down in between your thighs where your smallclothes sat pitifully between your bare skin and his fingers.

He swallowed your whimper into his mouth as his hand moved once more to play with your bud. Skin holds memory, they say, and you knew yours did of him: his light touch was enough to have you squirming beneath him with little effort.

“My own little harlot of the Riverlands.” Aemond pulled away, moving to untie the wrap of your nightdress. You watched him carefully, a twing of shyness slowing your movements.

He took your timid hands into his, holding them to him as he moved his nose to meet yours. “And yet a maiden, all the same.”

You closed your eyes, savoring the feel of his tenderness. Both your hands moved now to take away what lies between your modesty and bareness.

“Do I please you?” softly you looked at him, hoping that your shyness was replaced by your attempt to be sultry despite your lack of practice.

He looked at you as a man starved, deprived of warm fleshy skin to sink into for a century, and there was no pretending in his eye that he hadn’t prayed that you would not return Dark Sister to its rightful place. No matter how powerful the man, beyond swords and war and life and death, the soft skin of a lover would always be a weakness. There was no hiding the membrane of vulnerability and desperation at something so human: the touch and feel of another.

Leaning down to offer you a kiss, in a near whisper he replied, “Very much so.”

Hands and lips tenderly felt you everywhere, the blood underneath beating against the glide of his fingers. It was worship of the most holy, or perhaps the indulgence of a sin most foul. The lines blurred and you sank under his want, whether it be worship or sin, you did not care.

Your hands searched for him, shrugging off his own clothing in the rapture.

“Whatever it was you did to me yesterday, please, I need to feel it again.” it was more of a breathy whisper in between kisses than an affirmative request.

“I’ll show you something even better.” Aemond sank to your hips as his right hand did, already weaving slow strokes against your bud. And yet he sank farther, until his head rested between your thighs.

He watched you carefully from there, sliding one finger into your hole. His rubbing continued, and your legs began to weaken once more. You had swung your head to rest your eyes on your ceiling, unexpecting the hot wetness that met your bud.

It was unlike anything you had felt before—heat on heat, wetness on wetness, his tongue skillfully lapping your clit.

You fell under his enchantment for him like a man dies gasping underwater: slowly with resistance, until want for release pushes you to frantically search for it all at once. All thoughts of doing anything but taking everything he had to give you had been locked away, perhaps only to be seen again once you had gotten your fill. And you weren’t sure if you could ever be satisfied.

From this point forward, you would be damned by this memory: Aemond sliding his tongue between your folds, sucking on your sex, and pulling pleasure from you as if he was born a hundred years ago to do it.

He was determined to feel every drop of your essence sliding down his throat, holding you to him with his hands clasped around your thighs. Your orgasm came with his lips and tongue never ceasing their worship of you, even as your thighs shook and moans echoed through your walls.

Even though heavy breaths and dazed eyes of the afterglow, you would not make the mistake of falling asleep so soon, not after the previous night. Your hands lazily reached for him, pulling him closer to you.

Because you wanted more . There was no clarity and rational thinking bestowed upon your release. If anything, it had driven you further into a wanting animal, a ravenous direwolf seeking to tame its taste for blood. Maiden status be damned, if doing such things with a long dead prince even counted.

“Eager, are we?” he drawled over you, hands rustling between your bodies. “Shh. Let me take care of you.”

You felt him on you then, skin to skin, his hard manhood heavy on your stomach. Aemond’s eye met yours as he slid his cock between your folds, gathering the wetness there.

It was just you two in this moment, one body and another, seeking something buried deep within one another’s skin.

Face to ear, you whispered about your inexperience and novelty. He did nothing but pull your lips into another kiss, allowing your bodies to slip against each other’s warmth for moments to come. Aemond was a desiring man, or creature—you weren’t sure which, not that it fully mattered to you anymore—and you could feel his own lust for you seeping into each of your kisses and all of his touches, much more wanton than they had yet to be.

“Let me take you,” he nearly whined in between kisses, “I need to feel you.”

“I want you. Show me this.”

Forehead to forehead, Aemond reached between your bodies to guide his leaking cock to your entrance. You knew why maidens and ladies got wet—it would be impossible to carry out the deed without such slipperiness. What hung between a man’s legs was far too large to fit without it.

Even still, it was always a challenge at first—your own sex squeezing so hard, seemingly wanting to suck his cock deeper inside you and milk it within your walls. As he went to the hilt, moaning was all you had to cope, the noises blending with the creak of the castle.

“Does it always feel like this?” you choked, more than happy to be full of him but surprised at the feeling.

With his forehead still against yours, his breath fanned in your mouth. “At first, and then it will feel even better.”

As if to show you, he began long strokes, the head of his cock sliding against the vice of your juicy walls. And you felt it bloom—the deep ember of pleasure at your core, both satisfied and left wanting more by each thrust.

Your moans and whimpers against his ear were compounded by the thrust of his hips, heavy against your own, pushing his cock to the hilt now in every stroke, the head of it brutally kissing the end of you every time.

He sat up now, hands firmly on your hips to control the angle of you and the drive of his cock to be right where he wanted them. Moving between your bodies, his thumb danced on your bud again, sending you to reflexively grip him further out of the sheer ecstasy of it. “What would your rivermen think of you like this, moaning like a whore on my cock?”

It was more of a suffocated squeal than words, chest heaving, not being able to help the way your body was in his hands, moving at the speed he set. “They would think me a traitor.”

“But you just couldn’t help it, could you? You needed more of me, no matter what I’ve done.”

Despite you both knowing the truth of it, hardly any shame could touch you now in the throes of your bodies. In between love bites on your ear and kisses on your neck as he took you, there was more than enough praise spilling from his lips: haughty whispers of you take my cock so well and your body is made for me.

It was as intense as it was pleasurable. Aemond’s platinum tresses locked you into a cage where it was only him: only his body, his cock—nothing else. He was making you into a woman of his own liking, his spell on you binding you to desire and breaking every one of your senses to want nothing but him.

There was no clarity and rational thinking bestowed upon your release. Reaching the peak of it, your cunt hardly willing to let his cock move inside you and pulsing and pleading for it to be even deeper, you cried out, your own howl into the night. Aemond fucked you through it, seeking his own peak within your walls and finding it in the vice you had him in, milking him for every drop of his own essence to spill in the hot syrupy tightness of your cunt.

The sedation you felt in your after-pleasure was familiar to the first night—leaving you in a daze, the murky waters difficult to navigate. Fighting it was futile, but you kept yourself awake enough to feel him pull away, save for leaving a kiss on your fingers and hear his final words.

Visit me, my lady of God’s Eye

It would be a selfish thing—you knew—to keep the sword, no matter how badly you wanted to satiate your desire during the night. But the storm raged on, and it was only right to do what had to be done to prevent the entirety of Harrenhal from being consumed by the water raiding every corridor and sieging nearly all chambers and apartments, only the highest of rooms in each tower being spared.

It was a difficult task, but you had managed. And not hours after the sword was back in the sheath it belonged in, the rain had ceased, to the relief of all in the castle except for one.

You hadn’t forgotten his last words to you. Sometimes, you swam back to the remains of the dragon prince again, hoping the hallowed skeleton could see you in the angelic light only water could give.

And sometimes, in the deepest chamber of the lake, you swore you heard whispers in the catches of the currents.

548 notes View Post

whorrorbellee

10 months ago

i didn’t go to prom, but me and carrie both got that autism fr so i probably would have smiled at her in passing or been friends w her as i also got bullied in high school

i woulda survived the movie Carrie because i simply wouldn’t have bullied her.

39K notes View Post

whorrorbellee

7 months ago

You are Aemond’s possession

Masterlist

Taglist

English is not my first language, please be kind

Modern!MafiaBoss!Aemond x fem!Reader

•Warnings: p in v, oral (male), fingering, smut, kissing, taking of sexual themes, orgasm denial, gun play, murder.•

{Request: What do you think of modern maffia with aemond being maffia boss ? And verryy angsty}

It was unfair, really.

You jumped on the bed, your eyes staring at the marm ceiling. You squirmed on the bed, kicking and throwing punches at the mattress to let all the anger out.

When you stopped, you felt a bit better.

Just a bit.

It was enough that you basically lived confined in his house, that no matter how big it was, it was always filled with people, bodyguards or clients.

You had no peace, no freedom.

And he wasn’t a guy for parties, except when he was basically forced to go because of some clients. He rarely brought you, and you hated it.

He spent all the time working, not even looking at you once, and then he didn’t even let you go out dancing?!

But…

He did bring you along tonight.

“I want to dance!” You whined as you dug your nails in his arm.

“Then go, for fuck’s sake, just stop annoying me.” He growled as he pushed your hand away, turned, and went up the stairs to meet his clients at his table.

You smiled and immediately threw yourself on the dancing floor, swaying your body at the time of the music, dancing even with other people you didn't even know.

Then, after some refused guy approaches and a few drinks, you decided it was time to finally go back to your boyfriend.

Your sweaty skin sparkling under the lights of the club, your make up a bit ruined, you made space for yourself to reach the same stairs you saw Aemond going up to.

You looked around and saw two bodyguards standing in front of a table.

You guessed he was there.

You approached the bodyguards that both put a hand on your shoulders.

“Go somewhere else, doll.” One of them grinned.

You crunched your nose at the pet name.

“My boyfriend is there.” You pointed at the table. One of the guards looked behind, his body moving enough to give you a clear view of Aemond… with a girl in his lap, her arm around his neck as he talked to his client.

Aemond’s hand rested on her thigh, his thumb moving on her skin.

“That one over there?” The bodyguard turned back to you, a mocking smile on his face. You slowly nodded as your eyes filled with tears.

You stayed there a moment, the image sinking in, when suddenly you saw one of the guards feet moving. You looked up and saw him giving you a sign to go. You immediately looked at Aemond and saw him looking at you, nodding once, silently telling you to go to him. YYou walk with your head low, sitting beside him, as the girl from his lap did not move away.

Aemond kept talking to his client, as you stayed there, covered by the girl on your boyfriend’s lap, humiliated.

“Go get us a drink.” You heard Aemond say as he slapped the girl butt. The girl moved away as you saw another girl go to Aemond’s client, distracting him.

Aemond turned towards you with a harsh glare.

“Crying? Really? Are you a fucking kid?” He growled as your eyes got immediately wet again.

“I–I’m sorry… but– but you….” You sobbed, but Aemond harshly gripped your jaw, stopping you.

“I did what, uhm? Get yourself together.” He pushed you back and you looked away, trying to hide your tears. You clenched your fists as you got up again.

“Where the fuck are you going?” Aemond looked at you. You showed him your perfect smile.

“To get you a drink, love.” You turned and walked away, going down the stairs again, straight to the dance floor again.

Aemond will be so pissed off by your lie.

You knew, and you forced yourself to ignore the thought.

He loved you, in his own way.

You made your way to the middle of the dancefloor.

You loved him.

You started dancing, swaying your hips, moving sensually, as you tried to lose yourself in the music.

He always took care of you.

You moved your hands in your hair, moving them back as you kept dancing, closing your eyes.

His hands, his grip so possessive on your hips as he tugged you back against his body, as he lowered his lips to kiss your neck, as one of his hands moved up to your stomach to your breasts, squeezing your boob as he let out a groan…

“Aemond…” You whispered, as you felt him behind you, his lips close to your ear.

“It can be my name if you want it to.” The guy said. You immediately opened your eyes and looked up at the guy as you both kept dancing.

He wasn’t ugly at all, he was handsome, actually. Not like your boyfriend, but handsome.

Not Aemond.

If he could have a girl on his lap, then you could have a boy for you as well, right?

You turned towards him, and grabbed his face to pull him into a kiss. The guy wasted no time to wrap his arm around your waist and squeeze your butt with his hand, deepening the kiss, slipping his tongue in your mouth.

It was strange, different.

It was not Aemond.

Suddenly you felt something grabbing your arm.

You were harshly turned around and saw Aemond, his hand gripping your wrist as his eyes burned through you, his lips pressed together, and his jaw clenched.

He was angry.

He was furious.

He gripped your waist, pulling you harshly against his chest, his body pressed behind yours.

His hot breath hit your ear as he growled.

“You’re a bad liar.” He growled as his other hand moved to your hip, fingers digging into your skin. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” He asked in a low voice, as he pulled you closer, the heat of his body against yours.

“You– You had… a girl on your lap… you humiliated me!” You tried to defend yourself, his eyes only darkening.

“We're going home. Now.” He growled, pushing you away from the people, but the other guy grabbed your hand, stopping you.

Aemond glared at him, then at you, then again back at him.

“You two have a problem?” The guy asked with a harsh glare, his hold on your wrist getting tighter.

Aemond got closer, his body right behind yours as his hand moved to your stomach, gripping you possessively, forcing you against his chest.

“She’s mine. She’s my problem, not yours.” He growled as you tensed.

The guy looked you both up and down, letting out a scoff.

“I don’t see any ring.” He teased, as his eye moved down on your body.

Aemond’s grip on you got tighter, his other hand letting go of your wrist to place it on your hips, squeezing it possessively, making you let out a whimper.

The guy clearly noticed, and smirked as Aemond’s glare hardened.

“Looks like you're pretty useless.” The guy mocked, eyeing your body again.

“Watch your mouth, or I’ll rip your tongue out.” Aemond growled, his hold on you getting even more possessive as he pulled you back against his chest, his breath on your neck, making you shiver.

"I'm gonna pull a bullet between his eyes, is that what you wanted, baby?"

He whispered in your ear.

Your eyes widened at the threat, but your body shivered a bit. It was not the first time he did something like this.

He was dangerous, possessive… and you knew that.

You bit your lip, trying to not give in, but Aemond smirked as he saw you biting your lip, his eye lowering on your mouth.

“You like when I say that, baby?” He teased, now in a softer tone.

One of his hands moved again to your hips, sliding under the fabric of your dress to your skin, caressing it with his thumb, making you shiver again as you felt a wave of heat wash over you. You immediately shook your head.

"A–Aemond... don't please..."

“Don’t?” He repeated in a mocking tone, his body now pressed against your back.

His grip on your hip tightened, his thumb rubbing your skin under the fabric.

He looked back at the guy standing in front of them.

"You knew every guy that came close to you didn't end up well."

He smirked.

"Why shouldn't I kill him for what he did?"

You swallowed hard, the shiver increasing at the feel of his body pressed against you, his breath on the exposed skin of your neck, his lips now so close.

“Please. I’m begging you. Don’t.” You whispered, grabbing his hand on your hip and squeezing it.

His eye darkened even more.

"He kissed you. I'm gonna kill him."

You closed your eyes at his words, the wave of heat increasing as Aemond’s words sent a spike of heat through your body.

You knew he was dangerous.

But at the same time it turned you on the way he growled and threatened everyone if they tried to take you from him. Nobody ever did it. Everyone knew who Aemond was and he was never one for sharing.

And clearly now he was furious.

"Just… please don't hurt him, please, I’m begging you..."

He clicked his tongue.

"No. He tasted you, I'm not letting anyone live knowing how you taste."

He gave a sign to a distant bodyguard, indicating him the guy.

Aemond pulled you away again as the bodyguard grabbed the guy, both going on the back of the club outside.

“Your punishment will come home right after his, baby, don’t worry.” He smirked as he pushed you outside.

You clenched your jaw as you saw a group of bodyguards circling the guy that had been forced on his knees.

You gasped as you looked away, your eyes getting wet… along with your core.

You always hated how Aemond’s possessiveness turned you on.

“No, no, no, baby.” He laughed, standing behind you and grabbing your chin. “You’re gonna watch, alright?” He chuckled as he forced you to look at the guy as Aemond grabbed the gun.

“Aem… Please…” You sobbed, gabbing his thigh. He only smirked more. as He looked at the guy.

“You’re mine.” He growled in your ear as he shot the guy between his eyes. You gulped and screamed, closing your eyes immediately, turning around to hide your face in your boyfriend’s chest.

He wrapped his arm around you, as he started to walk you to the car, along with a bodyguard, the others staying behind to clean up the mess.

In the car, you couldn’t look at him. You were well aware of Aemond’s life, his job and his rules. You found it out too late when you two started dating, when you were already too engulfed with him, that you decided to live with that.

You never asked about his day, he never told you anything, and you tried to live… serene.

As much as you could.

Still, he had no right to do what he just did. To traumatize you like he just did.

As soon as you got home, the house was strangely empty, no bodyguards or anyone, Aemond pushed you against the wall, making you hit your head on it.

You whined as you looked at him, the anger that started rising in the car now showing.

“What the fuck was that, huh?!” He growled as he grabbed you by your hair, making you tilt your head back.

“You humiliated me, you whore.” He tugged at your hair harshly, making you cry out loud. “Right in front of my client, I— I swear, if it wasn’t for your pretty face I would have already beaten you up.” He shoved you away, letting go of your hair.

You stumbled, not falling for some miracle on your heels.

“And what the hell is that outfit, uh? You wanted to show your asshole to everyone?” He kept screaming. “Do you even ever think about what you do!?”

“You humiliated me!” You spat back. “You… You had that girl on your lap, you touched her! You fucking slapped her ass!” You yelled back. He looked at you, amused by your jealousy.

“Is this what this is about?” He laughed, clearly still angry.

“No! Well, yes! Is this why I rarely come with you? Because you fuck other girls? Y–You go there… your clients offer whores to you?” You yell back, your jealousy burning in your chest.

“You’re fucking crazy, you know that?” He laughed at you.

“Oh, I–I’m the crazy one?!”

“You went off kissing some dude because of a slap on the ass? Are you fucking serious?!”

He yelled at the top of his lungs. You gasped and stepped back, suddenly scared of him. “Get the fuck away from my sight, NOW!”

You ran upstairs, wiping your tears of frustration as you hid in your bedroom.

Now here you are. You got up from the bed, and opened the large drawer to find something to sleep in.

Or…

You smirked to yourself, getting rid of all of your clothes, going in the bathroom to take a quick shower.

This wasn’t definitely one of your best ideas, considering how mad Aemond is.

It was rare for him to actually hit you. It was most common for him to just push you around or pull your hair, like he did before.

You were aware, though, that if you’d push him enough, he wouldn't be able to restrain himself to hit you.

But you don’t want that, do you?

You used your most strong scent of shampoo, body scrub and soap, to clean yourself, then the most expensive creams, just his favorites.

You dried your hair and body, and went back to the bedroom, laying on the bed that was positioned right in front of the entry door.

You widened your legs, bending them on the knee, the cool air hitting your core sentinel a little wave of pleasure, as you moved your hand between them, your fingers moving over your clit. You let out a long sigh, as you slowly started to massage your clit in circular motion, pressing your fingers just right, letting out a loud moan.

The mix of Aemond’s possessiveness and the alcohol you drank enough to make you a mess down there.

You moaned again as you slowly massaged your clit, grabbing your boob with your other hand.

You didn’t care about being loud, you didn’t care if he could hear you.

You wanted him to hear you.

To know how good you were feeling without him.

He could go fuck his whores if he wanted to.

You were fine by yourself.

Right?

Then you heard it. The door opened, but you didn’t look. You closed your eyes as you started moving your fingers faster, moaning out loud.

You could feel his eye on you.

Eyes, maybe.

God, you hoped he didn’t have the eyepatch.

You kept squeezing your boob as you felt the climax building. You kept masturbating yourself shamelessly, knowing his eyes were closely studying you.

You kept moaning, knowing his ears were registering every sound you let out.

But you refused to give him the satisfaction of your reaction if you’d open your eyes to see him.

Because you just know, you would moa just at the sight of him looking at you touching yourself.

You started to move your fingers even faster, more dirty thoughts coming in your mind, as you felt his quiet steps, barely giving you an idea of his position.

Then you suddenly felt two of his fingers pushing inside you.

Your body arched immediately as you stilled for a moment, as you whined.

“A–Aemond!” You opened your eyes immediately, looking down at your boyfriend, catching him as he crawled on top of you, pushing your hands over your head, keeping them there, as he kept his fingers inside you, without moving them.

“You like to act like a whore?” He looked down at you, his eyes full of lust, his sapphire reflecting your image. He retrieves his fingers harshly, making you gasp and squirm a bit.

“Tsk…” He pushed his fingers in your mouth as you pouted. Making him chuckle coldly.

“You wanna play hard to get, baby? Are you sure?” He put his legs over your to immobilize them.

You groaned and sucked his fingers, as he looked at you pleased. He pushed his fingers further in your mouth, making you gag, your hands clenched into fists, as you tried your best to not pull back. He smiled as he moved back, standing and pulling his pants down.

His cock will always be a sight for you.

Hard, long, pale, thick and veiny.

Perfect.

Just as the rest of him.

Sadly, you haven’t been able to properly take all of him.

There was a noticeable size difference between you two.

“Get on your knees, now. You have a lot of things to be forgiven, baby.” He said as he stripped himself naked.

You looked at him, sat on the bed, your mouth already watering, but you were not gonna give him that satisfaction.

“I have nothing to be sorry about.” You stated with your head high, and a courage that you’ll regret founding.

Aemond narrowed his eyes at you, his scar creating wrinkles on his cheek and forehead.

“Come here immediately.” He growled, his voice warning you.

“No.” You answered, swallowing with difficulty. He only looked more pissed.

“I won’t ask again.” He warned again.

“Then don’t.” You had barely the time to finish your sentence when Aemond started walking towards you, you quickly got off the bed, trying to get over him, to the door, but he grabbed your arm, pushing you back. You stumbled but did not give up. You tried to side step him, but this time he grabbed you by your throat, squeezing the sides and he backed you towards the wall, despite you kept trying to get away.

“Stay. Still.” He growled as he pushed you against the wall. You got goosebumps as the side of your face and your chest made contact with the cold marm.

“I should get you handcuffed next time.” He pushed you once again, then he kept you still, shoving his hand on your butt, the slap making you gasp.

“You like this, uh?” He got behind you, pressing you even more against the wall.

“D–don’t touch me…” You weakly said back.

You obviously didn’t mean it, but you had to at least play the part, right?

“I’m the only one who gets to touch you, do you hear me?” He gripped tightly your hip, digging his fingers in the soft skin, surely leaving marks behind. “I’m the only one who gets to do anything to you, whenever the fuck I want to.”

“You killed someone.” You stated again, but he simply chuckled, slipping his hands between your legs.

“You say that, but there is quite a mess here baby…” He groaned as he moved his fingers over your slip, finding you embarrassingly wet.

He chuckled again at the redness that covered your cheeks.

“You’re mine. I’ll repeat it to you all the time if you need me to but—“ He kicked your ankle, making you widen your legs, he bent down to be able to slip his cock inside you. You whined and clawed the wall. “But I think I know a better way to not let you forget it.” He pushed most of his cock inside you in one motion.

“Ah! A—Aemond!” You pressed yourself against the wall, trying to escape him, and the uncomfortable feeling of his cock stretching your walls at their maximum.

“Sh, shh…” He looked down, grabbing your buttocks and opening you up to see his cock almost completely inside you.

“I think it’s time to go deeper don’t you think?” He brushed his hips over your temple as you looked at him horrified.

“W—what? No… N-no— I—I’m not… I’m not ready Aemond… Fuck!” You whined out loud as you felt him getting deeper, so deeper, as he kept your buttocks spread apart to see his cock disappear finally inside you.

“This is so much better baby…” He groaned as he rested his forehead on your shoulder.

You were panting, the line between pain and pleasure getting thinner.

“You squeeze me so good…” He pressed himself against you, stepping closer as you tried to escape, trying to melt with the wall. “So tight…” He gasped, as he slowly started to rock his hips against yours, moving slightly his cock deeper.

“Ah— A—Aemond…” You checked out.

“Shh, sh… You’re ready for it, baby…” He grinned as he slipped out almost to the end, only to push it all back in, making you almost scream as he kept going with his usual fast, hard speed.

“A—Aemond… slow… slow down… too much!” You whined as he grabbed your hips to pull you back so you bent over, your face still pressed against the wall.

“Too much? Is this too much?” He asked arrogantly. “Almost as it was too much to fucking kiss a guy for a slap on the ass to another girl is it?” He slowed down, but only to give strong firm thrusts, making sure to push his cock as deep as it could go.

“Almost as much as accusing me of fucking someone else.” He grabbed you by the throat, pushed your head back, forcing you in an uncomfortable arched position. “As if I could ever fuck another pussy that is not yours?” He thrusted again, harder. He gripped your boobs with his hand, squeezing them harshly. “As if I could even imagine…” He whispered as he pressed his cheek against your temple as he started speeding up again. “… to find someone better that you…” He groaned as he let go of your throat, letting you lean on the wall again, he moved his hand down between your legs, brushing his fingers over your pearl.

You moaned immediately, feeling your legs weak, so you grabbed his arm.

“You wanna cum baby?” He pressed his fingers on your clit, moving them precisely how he knew you liked.

You closed your eyes shut, as the pain mixed with the pleasure clouded your mind, you found yourself on the principle of the strongest orgasm you’ve ever felt coming.

You let out a long moan as you just felt it building up, Aemond’s thrusts merciless along with his fingers.

“A—Aem… Aemond…” You whined, ready to be shattered compl by your orgasm, when he suddenly… stopped.

“What..! A—Aem…?” He looked behind you, Aemond was standing with a grin on his face, his hands by his sides.

“Why…?” You panted, as he only grinned even more.

“I told you, you would have your punishment once home.” He chuckled, seeing the desperation in your eyes.

“No— Please… I—“ You started thrusting back, trying to get that friction to bring yourself over the edge, but Aemond grabbed your hips, stopping your movements.

“Get. On your knees.” He pulled out and slapped your ass again, grabbing you by the back of your neck and pushing you down, forcing you on your knees. He shoved two fingers back in your mouth, not so gently, making you gag repeatedly, but he kept your head from jerking back with his firm grip.

“As I said. You have something to be forgiven for.” He growled as you looked up at him, your face a mix from anger and frustration. You couldn’t help but let the tears come to your eyes at the horrible denial of your orgasm. That only made him chuckle.

“You gonna cry? Uh?” He fixed your hair back, pulling them into a ponytail, his fist as a hairband. “We can make a deal.” He smirked as he tilted his head to the side, looking down at you. Even his sapphire glistened with mischief. “You do whatever I tell you, and take whatever I give you… and I’ll let you cum, yeah?” He smirked as he saw the hesitance in your eyes, but in the end, you did want to cum, so you just nodded your head.

“Stay here.” He chuckled as he moved away for a moment. “Close your eyes, baby.” You did as he said, closing your eyes, keeping your hands on your knees, waiting to feel his presence again. After a moment, you felt his fingers back on your lips, his thumb pushing to part them, so you complied, sucking in his thumb and licking it.

“So you know how to behave, don’t you?” He groaned as he slipped his thumb out and bent to slap your ass again, making you wince.

“Keep your eyes closed, and stay still, alright?” He said again.

“Y–Yes…” You waited there, feeling something cold against your lips.

“I know you need a lot of preparation for my cock, princess…” He pushed the cold hard, metal past your lips, and you hesitated for a moment. You moved your tongue around it and you had to restrain yourself from opening your eyes.

It was a gun.

“Something wrong?”

A fucking gun.

“Feeling something familiar?” You heard him chuckle, as he pushed the gun further. “Your friend liked it.”

The gun he used to shoot the guy.

“Look at me, princess.” You immediately looked up, seeing his smirk as he held the gun in your mouth. “You’re learning the lesson, aren’t you?” He pulled the gun out as you nodded.

“Mh.” He looked down at you, then he threw the gun to the side, grabbing you by your neck. You immediately put your hands on his, whining, as he made you stand and pushed you back on the bed.

“You better fucking do.” He slapped your butt as you fell on the bed, he immediately grabbed your thighs, keeping them up, to put your legs at the sides of his head.

“Aemo– AH!” You moaned and grabbed the sheets, trying to find something to hold on, to get away from him as he pushed his cock back in, to the very end.

“You’re mine.” He growled. “I want you, and I’m keeping you.” He hugged your thighs, as he started thrusting ferociously like an animal, your grip on the sheets only tightening even more as you cried out.

“Aemond! Ah– t–too much…” You whined as he kept you firm against him, his eye fixed on how your breasts moved up and down by the force of his hit.

He let go of your legs, leaning forward, wrapping one of his hands around your neck, and the other grabbing your boob, squeezing as if to taste its softness.

“I’m gonna break this fucking cunt if I have to.” He growls in your ear, his lips brushing on your neck. “I’ll break it, if this is what you need to fucking behave.” He sucked your neck, leaving a trail of hickeys down to your collarbone.

He raised his head to look at you, your face red and some hair glued to your face because of the sweat, Your eyes tear stained, and your expression mirroring the word ‘pleasure’.

“So beautiful…” He groaned as he sped up, going impossibly faster. You let out a high pitched moan feeling your climax building up again, quickly, but your moans were followed by a groan of desperation when he pulled out again.

“Aemond!” You sobbed as he picked you up in his arms.

You cuddled up on his chest, as he sat on the bed, his back against the headrest. Your legs were shaking by the second denial, and you were at your limit.

“I’m sorry…” You whined as you let your fist fall on Aemond’s chest, sobbing. “I–I won’t do it ever again, I promise, please!” You let your hands roam on his chest, covered by sweat as well, only making it more attractive. He looked at you with a smirk as he caressed your cheeks gently, wiping your tears.

You started kissing his neck trailing down to his chest as you moved between his legs, as you kept sobbing.

You grabbed his hard cock, directing it in your mouth and quickly sucked him inside.

“Fuck– Baby…” Aemond groaned as he slipped a hand in your hair, pushing your head down. You took as much as you could and more, starting to bob your head, your lips and tongue massaging his girth as your hand worked the rest of him. You arched your back, knowing how he likes to see your ass up in the air as you suck him off. You moved your other hands down to his balls, massaging them in your hands.

“Jesus… Fuck baby that’s it… That’s how you behave…” He moaned as you moved your head down, your tongue pressing on the skin between his asshole and under his balls, making him gasp, as your hand kept working his length. You raised your head again, taking him back in your mouth as you let him guide you with his hand on your head, pushing you down until you gagged and your eyes filled with tears. Still you didn’t give up.

Your hands on his thighs, you pushed your head down completely, somehow, talking all of him in his mouth. You tried to stay there as long as you could, the loud groan coming from Aemond like music to your ears. You finally pulled back, gasping for air and looked at him.

He smiled at your messy face and hair.

“Ride me.” He ordered you, and you complied immediately.

It was one thing to give him a good blowjob as you half laid on the bed, but now, feeling how weak your legs were, you hoped you could keep going enough for his liking.

You crawled on top of him, raising yourself as he aligned his cock to your entrance. He looked up at you as he put a hand on your hip, guiding you down.

It just kept going.

The moment you resisted a second, he tugged you down.

“Behave. Fucking sit on it.” He growled as he pushed you down completely, making you whine out loud.

You leaned forward, putting your hands on his chest for leverage, feeling him somehow deeper than before.

“A—Aemond…” You whined, but when you looked at him, you found him smiling, looking down at your stomach, as he pressed a hand there.

“Can you feel me baby?” He looked back at you. “You know no one can make you feel like this, right? No one but me.”

He thrusted up once, as a hint to make you start moving, and you did your best, really, but it was all too much for you.

The feeling of his cock so deep, the denied orgasm, not even the desperation to cum could help you move as fast as he would have liked. Still you tried your best, grinding on his cock, occasionally raising yourself to fall back down.

“Have I already fucked you that stupid? Uhm?” He clicked his tongue, as he grabbed you by the back of your neck, pulling you down, your faces side to side, as he grabbed your ass to keep it raised as he started thrusting up from beneath you.

Fast and hard.

You held on to his shoulders, every bit you took making you whine. His hands gripped you harder, his fingers digging painfully in your skin, so you tried to reach back with a hand, but he stopped you before you could even touch him, bending your arm on your back and immobilizing it there.

“Ah! Aemond— I— I need…” You moaned loudly, as again you heard his chuckle.

“I know what you need, princess.” He smirked as he slowed his pace, only to go harder. “But should I give it to you?”

He murmured in your ear, and for you it was immediate panic.

“Aemond please!” You sobbed, too fucked up to even care. “Please I—I will never ever ever let anyone else touch me other than you! I’m sorry I—I swear please I need this! I’m begging you!” You cried out, sobbing and stuttering between one thrust and the other.

“You’re that desperate, princess? You want it that much?” He asked you as he started picking up the pace again, and finally, finally you felt it again, that strong orgasm, one that you’re sure will completely lash you out.

“Yes! Yes— yes please… please… Ah! Ah—Aemond!” You were right there, so close… you were just about to cum, you just needed the last few thrusts.

“I’ll let you cum, baby… Then I’ll cum inside you, okay?” He groaned as he felt you squeezing him like a vice, as you were on the edge.

“Please… Ah— Aemond…” You almost screamed as you finally came, waves of pleasure washing all over your body, you legs started shaking uncontrollably, as you just collapsed on Aemond’s chest, hiding your face in his neck, as you barely registered the feeling of his cock that kept pushing inside you until he finally came with a low groan.

“Shh… shh you’re fine, princess…” Aemond patted the top of your head as he rolled on his side, bringing you with him, carefully holding you close.

You kept sobbing,as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

“You’re okay, I forgive you.” He kissed the top of your head, moving your hair back as he pulled your head back gently to look at you. “I love you.” He whispered.

You smiled weakly, and kissed him softly.

“I love you too.” You answered as he wiped your tears away. “I’m yours.”

“I know.”

Taglist:@ka1afbr @cynic-spirit @ladythornofrivia @zenka69 @queenofthekeep @adorewhatever

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whorrorbellee

10 months ago