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redheadspark · 5 months

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Bliss

Summary - Druig knows how to bring you bliss

*Got the idea for this one shot from this Gif*

Warnings - SMUT SMUT SMUT! This is 18+, NO MINORS ALLOWED FROM HERE ON OUT!

A/N - I am no SMUT writer by trade, so bear with me :D

You fell back into the bed, your breath barely on your lips as your thighs were trembling and your orgasm was now dwindling to a small simmer. Sweat itched along your skin, thanks to the solid body on top of you that was holding you close and still buried deep inside of you, watching your body shake from your post orgasm. His eyes were wide, nearly black with no evidence of the sapphire blue they naturally were, his lisp plump to almost crimson in the moonlight, and his skin with its sheen of sweat along his porcelain skin.

"That was…..I can't even talk" You tried to say, but your voice was nearly gone with a small smile on your lips as the man above you merely chuckled and ruffled his own brown hair from his eyes.

"Don't say a single word, darlin'." He hummed, leaning back down to have his arms on the mattress below you, digging his forehead against your shoulder as he rolled his hips deeply and slowly. You mewled, arching into him as you clung onto his shoulders, knowing fully well that he was not done with you.

Neither you were done, not with what you went through.

This was not the first time you two were in bed together, nor would it be the last. But it felt like your first time, not with the intensity and the lust that was seeping under your skin as you both were gasping for air and pouring your love to one another, but with the intense love you both had for one another for centuries and centuries on end.

Being together on the Domo for some time as friends before realizing your feelings for one another brought your paths together as lovers, then as a married couple. You never thought in your wildest dreams that the Mind Controlling Eternal, the very one who was aloof to outsiders and sarcastic by nature, would fall head over heels in love with someone like you. He was wrapped around your heart so naturally and organically that before you knew it, you realized that your heart was taken by him and there was no way to be without him.

You both went along with the evolution of humans, seeing the good, the bad, and the ugly. Even within your own family of Eternals and how straining it was getting with one another, you both stayed side by side. Druig's heart was beyond massive for the sake of the humans, for wishing them peace and tranquility on that small and fragile planet. So when he decided to walk away after seeing a genocide unfold in front of his eyes, you joined him. How could you stay behind and let the love of your life walk away? He was part of your soul, half of your heart, and neither one of you wished to be parted.

"Uggh….Oh fuck Druig," you moaned against his head as his hips were staying consistent, rolling sleep and slow as you felt his cock slide in and out of you. You were feeling that tension again, the burning in your thigh muscles since your legs were bracketing Druig's hips with ease, your arms shaking while you clung onto his muscular shoulders, and your core finding that flicker of pleasure again while he kissed your skin over and over. One of his hands moved from under the pillow where you were, bracing your jawline to have your head stay in one spot while he was still fucking you deeply. You loved when he did this, his actions were both filthy and intimate at the same time. Holding you close as you fucked, perhaps thinking that you two could blend into one as he made you cum multiple times.

This was how he loved you: showing you with his actions along with his words how he loved you and would never stop loving you.

You moved your head to kiss his palm that was against your jawline, feeling him thrust again to have you moan silently and feel his thumb trace your lower lip. Without you thinking about it and merely thinking about the pleasure that was now etched within you, you slide his thumb into your mouth. He moaned against your neck.

"Fuck," he growled, his thrust never slowing as your hand moved down to grasp at his ass through the thin sheet that was covering it. He huffed and moved his head to gaze at you with heavy eyes, seeing his thumb in your mouth as you locked eyes with him with a blissed-out face, "You want me to make you cum again, don't ya?"

Releasing his thumb with a pop, you grinned as he gave a particularly hard thrust, you moaned out, "Do it,"

His eyes narrowed: challenged accepted.

Having this kind of love with Druig was nothing short of amazing. Built on the solid foundation of friendship and devotion, you both could take on the world if you wanted to. Yet you and Druig didn't wish for that, you both instead settled for your little village in the Amazon. A slice of paradise amongst the soldiers that followed Druig, underneath the massive trees, and hidden from the rest of the world. The love that was blossoming over time between you and Druig was now thriving and evolving, spending mornings in bed together and long walks amongst the trees. Druig never strayed from you, and he proved it again and again.

Druig loved running the village and caring for the families that were growing as the years went by, and you saw the new side of Druig that was hidden for so long because of his inability to step in and help humans. It made you proud to see him care for his villagers, to see the brightness in his eyes and within his tone, and you wished that would never go away.

Even after 500 years when your Eternals family came back to find you two to stop the ending of the world with them, nothing seemed to slow the pair of you down.

Moans were filling the room for the pair of you now as Druig was now determined to make you cum again, you letting him as his hips were now snapping and his eyes never leaving your face as you were melting with the sensation. You felt that drive in his hold along your body, in his whimpers along his lips, and in his eyes as he was watching you get closer and closer to teetering over the edge. He knew just how to make you cum: his rough fingers along your body or inside of you, his sweet and yet filthy words in your ear, and even his cock that was perfect in length and girth that seemed to be created to only fit inside of you. Inwardly, you thanked your lucky stars that you both were Eternals with extended energy, being able to fuck all night without a single need for a break.

This led to your record: 14 straight hours back in the Amazon when you two went off together on your anniversary back in 1869.

This time, this was more than a simple act of love or fuck session. The world almost ended, and you all almost lost everything you knew thanks to Arishem and his need to bring Tiamut to life and a new balance to the universe. Yet you all stopped it, not wishing to let this planet go to waste since you grew to love it over the centuries. It was a relief that there was no more danger for any of you to worry about, and to think that you were so close to losing Druig at the hands of Ikaris, you thought of the worst.

Seeing him walk up to you with a few cuts and bruises, yet alive and well, you had to hold him close and engrain him in your mind.

He must have felt the same, whisking you away from the rest of your group. Which then brought you to your current predicament.

"I'm close…I'm close Druig…" You moaned against his head as he was not slowing down with his hips and his open-mouth kisses against your jawline. He hummed, his spare hand moving down to rub his thumb against your clit as he was thrusting deeper and deeper. You moan hotly from the touch, your legs sprawling out at this point as he keeps the adrenaline going.

"You don't have to tell me, I can feel ya flutterin' against my cock," he growled as you were feeling that sensation in your toes moving up to be along your spine, "I know your body and what makes ya tick, right? I know where to touch, where to lick, where to….where to fuck,"

He rubbed your clit hard, making you moan with no abandon as he chuckled to pause and sit up a bit. He looked down at your body, seeing him undone you were yet at the same time tight wound. Your hair askew, your breast etched in hickies and exposed for him to savor, even the gorgeous sight of where you two were connected along your hips.

But what got him was your eyes, the same eyes that he fell for when he first saw you on the Domo. The same eyes that saw his painful and tear-jerking moments throughout the years but never repeated. The same eyes that poured love into his own when he felt he was undeserving. He swore a long time ago when he first kissed you at sunset, he would do anything and everything in his power to keep you in his life.

Centuries later, he held onto that promise.

"I love you," He hummed, the tone of lust simmered as you gazed up at him with lust in your own eyes. You felt that love seep under your skin, even in the heat of fucking you both would find a way to have another layer of intimacy with each other. Perhaps you were thinking that he was going to die because of Ikaris, or that was world was so close to ending, but you two looked at one another as if nothing else existed in the world, or in that little room.

You leaned up, moaning as you did since he was involuntarily thrusting in you to make you tremble. Druig moaned too, though it was silenced by you kissing him softly. He kissed you back, feeling that gentleness along your lips as you framed his face in your hands. Although you knew of it being a distraction, moving one hand to be placed in his chest to give him a push.

Within a second, he was sprawled on his back as you were now riding him. He grinned as you gently grasped his throat, feeling him gulp as you too locked eyes with that intensity again.

"Love you more," You replied, then giving one hard roll. Druig moaned loudly as his eyes rolled back in bliss.

The End

tagging - @a-lumos-in-the-nox @heliosphere8 @virtueassassin @pemberlyy @botanicalbarnes @reader6898 @eternalslover

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helloavocadooo · 2 years

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The reception lasted until 4am.

#black simmer #black simblr #sims of color #ts4 gameplay #nsb2 #gen sapphire

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daltonblaine · 2 years

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taylor swift's credibility tanking after being revealed to have written several albums about blaine from glee

#is this blasphemous considering the whole. You know #i have 2 gifsets simmering on the backburner and they're both based off taylor swift songs Oops. i'm not even a real swiftie #shh sapphire

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targaryenrealnessdarling · 4 months

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Form of Affection

22/12: Swimming & Face Fucking - Aemond Targaryen Word Count: 1.9k~ | Warnings: face fucking (obvi), dark!ish Aemond, kinslaying (mood), dirty talk, praise, degradation, threatening/obsessive behaviour A/N: This takes place in the Form of Gratitude universe!

12 Days of Smuff Masterlist

He'd given up hunting, but it still didn't stop him from visiting her.

She no longer raised her bow and arrow when she heard footsteps on her cobbled path. Similarly, Aemond had abandoned transport by way of the horse, instead alerting her to his arrival by the dense flapping of Vhagar’s wings.

Now, when she hears it, she waits outside her front door, arms crossed, smirking that he'd come to see her so soon after their last little tryst.

When he wasn’t buried between her thighs, sometimes Aemond craved her company in other ways. By way of hunting with her (hunting her sometimes), exploring the Kingswood until the sun touched the hills and more often, shedding their clothes and going for a swim in the nearby freshwater lake, made warm by the pleasant weather.

Usually, they swim, cleanse, kiss, and he wraps his strong arm around her and sheathes himself inside her, having his fill and only stopping once he was sated.

She was good to him. Submitted to his desires when he wanted. Comforted him when he needed. And did not question.

Today was different.

Today there was a weight on his shoulders like no other.

He’d woken a different person. A kinslayer.

Aemond sighs as he feels her breasts at his back, her slender arms wrapping around him to drift her soft fingertips across his scarred chest. But he does not lift his gaze. The moon shone down on them, reflected off the sapphire of his missing eye now that his eyepatch was discarded with his clothes.

“You are more melancholic than usual”, she muses, her nose gliding up the skin of his neck.

He scoffed, “And I am usually melancholic? Such emotions are beneath that of a Prince”.

He felt her body tense at his back, and he didn't need to look to know he'd offended her, but did not possess the courage to apologise.

“You are cruel when you're like this. It is how I know”, she adds with a soft sigh, making him feel worse, “there is something you are not telling me”.

Even the memory haunts him. He can still hear it, the way Vhagar’s jaw ripped through skin and bone like a knife through paper.

Nevermind having to admit out loud, the horrific act he'd committed. The one that had his mother flinching from his sights.

“I am a kinslayer”, he states simply, “My nephew, Luke.”

She is quiet.

And the silence spreads like a virus.

He expects her to drift away from him, taking her warmth with her, too shocked to really say anything, and leave, never to be seen again. Never to know her sweet loving embrace.

But she stays, and if anything, tightens her hold around him, her warm breath on his jaw, batting against the water droplet that sinks across his skin.

“And how do you feel?”

He's perplexed at just how calm she is. Whether it's a front or not, she's awfully good at it.

“I feel…unclean”, he answers, voice wavering, “like any person who looks upon me sees nothing but a mere monster”.

“I do not see a monster”.

“That does not matter”.

Again, she knows better than to not take it to heart. She can't disagree, her good opinion of him does not matter.

“He is the one who took your eye”, she muses, turning her face into the crook of his neck, the sloshing of water following her movements, “is he not?”

Aemond's tongue suddenly feels heavy, “Yes.”

“While your other family simply watched, and did nothing to assist?”

He swallows, a mild annoyance simmering, “Yes.”

He heard her breath before she spoke, the nerves making her shaky, “forgive me. I do not see why you should feel remorseful.”

“Because it has started a war.”

“A war that, forgive me, would have occurred regardless. I understand you may feel guilt. In my view it is no use looking back on the past. You can only protect your family now.”

Aemond could only scoff incredulously, “With Aegon as king I have a better chance of my eye growing back.”

“Well then why not you?” she asks, her volume lowering.

He barely turns his head to her, “what?”

The coldness of the early evening nips at his shoulders as she pulls away, the water around her trickling as she moves dreamily to look at him fully. Aemond feels himself half blink as he watches her expression, and the feeling of her fingers against his cheek.

Her beautiful full lips are parted, eyes studying the body she can see that is not submerged.

Her gaze flits back up to him, as her fingers disappear beneath the water, one soft digit trailing down his chest.

“It is you who should be king”

Silence.

The weight of what she'd said, what she'd suggested.

It was treason, and both knew it.

Aemond swallowed, chest feeling tight as a bowstring.

She is not at all perturbed by what she's said, not thinking about the consequences of them. Instead she ponders on.

“I am a commoner, my Prince. I know what he does. Where his interests lie”, she utters, an urgency to her tone. Aemond's stomach muscles tense as her hand passes over it, stepping past the fine hairs at his navel.

“It is you who was born to rule Westeros…”, she whispers, her front pressed near to his, breasts and nipples perk from the chill.

He stares idly at the droplet making its way between her breasts as her hand wraps around his cock, seeing her smirk at the realisation that her words have made him impossibly hard.

“...and you will”.

His jaw tightens, the muscle twitching with barely-contained emotion that was difficult to pin down.

Anger. Lust. Irritation. Desire.

They were all batting around in his head, trying to find where to fit.

He grabs her face, tugging her towards him so harshly she let out a little squeak, her grip on him never faltering, “Treasonous little cunt, aren't you?”

He doesn't know what he expected. For her to be scared perhaps.

But maybe there was a darkness in her that was discovered in him just days before. Lurking. Because she smirked. Giving his length a few calculated pumps.

“I told you before, where my loyalties lie.”

Her voice was like honey. Catching him in its trap. And her movements only intensified it.

“And what if I wed Floris Baratheon? Hm? Where will your loyalties lie then?”

She laughs breathily, “Then you wed Floris Baratheon. But, on your wedding night, I dare say, it is me you will be thinking of as you bury yourself inside that plain-faced idiot, searching for fulfillment you will never have. Not like you do with me.”

“You sound so sure”, he muses threateningly.

“Prove me wrong then.”

He sighs and tips his head back, feeling achingly hard. Her movements are too slow to grant him any kind of meaningful pleasure, but the touch all the same ignites a flame within.

“I can think of a better use for your cunt mouth”

The hand moves from her face to her hair, and he revels in the whine she lets out when he drags her from the depths to the shallow bank of the edge of the great lake. In the moonlight, shrouded in blue, their bodies look ethereal with the light bouncing off their damp skin.

He'd fucking hate that smug little smile on her face as he drags her to her knees in front of him, if he didn't fucking love it so much.

“Open.”

She bit her lip, holding back her smile at how wound tight she'd managed to make him and only wished to take it further by outright denying him, cock hard and weeping before her.

A choked moan left her as warmth bloomed on her cheek hard, Aemond's hand followed and grabbed her jaw meanly, pulling her face up to meet his gaze. His fingers curled into the flesh of her face, parting her lips, all while his other hand held his length by the base littered with silver curls, and pressed the tip to her lips.

Her eyes glimmered with excitement, feeling a throb between her thighs as he slid into her mouth slowly, his cock hot and heavy on her tongue. There was a dull ache on her cheek where he'd struck her, but it was exciting all the same.

Aemond moaned loudly when he felt her gag on him, her throat trying to close around his length and tears collecting around the rim of her beautiful eyes.

“That's it…”, he cooed quietly, pressing all the way into her warm, wet mouth until his hips were pressed to her.

“-you think I should be king, hm? - a king needs his cock warmed -”

He could tell she was trying to say something around his length but couldn't, and he wanted to laugh at her attempt as he thrusted so deeply into her mouth, her throat moved along with it, prodding the back of her throat mercilessly.

The little slut was writhing there, taking his cock into her mouth like a cunt would, pressing her thighs together to alleviate how badly she wanted to be fucked.

“- what's that? - I can't hear you -”, he smirked at her. Her eyes now shut with streams of moisture forming lines down her face.

“-that’s it-” he whispers softly, “-much better with my cock in your mouth-”

Once he begins fucking in earnest, he feels her warm hands on his thighs for balance. His fingers tug at her moist hair for leverage, tugging her back on his length.

His stomach muscles tighten as her cheeks hollow, increasing the friction on him. Every nerve feels alight the more he bottoms out inside her mouth.

“-fuck- it's such a waste, I've been dreaming of that perfect cunt all day -” he breathes heavily, “-be a good girl and take it-”

She makes a sound skin to a whine when she tastes his seed, shooting hot ropes onto her tongue and back of her throat, coating her mouth with it as he continues his ceaseless pace, prolonging his pleasure.

Aemond moans loudly, the sound lost in the dense forest, granting himself a few more shallow thrusts before he stills, emptying himself on her tongue and watching as a line of spend dribbles down the side of her mouth and onto her breasts.

He sighs in contentment. She is being good and hasn't moved an inch.

With a wet smack, he pulls his softening cock from her mouth, smirking at the way he coats her lips as they glisten in the moonlight.

She opens her bleary eyes finally to him, and doesn't even need to be told. She swallows, a sigh following after to prove she has swallowed all of it.

He hums. A thumb reaching for her chin to push the seed that had leaked out back into her mouth. She sucks on the digit hungrily, and he nearly moans out at the feeling of her wet tongue.

He pulls it out and cups her face lovingly, her eyelashes fluttering as she leans into his touch.

“Come back to the Keep with me”, he demands simply, like it is the easiest thing in the world.

“What?”

“If I'm going to have to wed, bed and breed Floris fucking Baratheon, I'll need you close to me.”

With the heady taste of him on her tongue still, she swallows and considers for a moment.

“I will not allow the sweetest cunt in the realm to sleep on the outskirts of the fucking Kingswood. You will be mine.”

His words are sweet.

It would promise safety from vagabonds, rapists and hunters, for certain. And she had to admit, she did miss him whenever he departed on Vhagar, summoned back to the Keep.

So, she smiles at him, leaning forward to press her temple against his body.

“Yes, my King.”

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

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aemonds-fire-writes · 4 months

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The Sapphire Spell Ghost Aemond x Female Part Seven - Swept Away

Summary: Can a spell cast by Alys long ago bring Aemond Targaryen back to life centuries later in Westeros? When the remains of the Kinslayer are found and put on display in a Cabinet of Curiosities, the ghost of Aemond discovers the proprietor’s beautiful daughter is the only person who can see or hear him.

Dark Ghost Aemond x Female / Slow Build / Dark Romance

Word Count: 4580

Chapter Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, DUB-CON, Explicit Sexual Content, Profanity

Writer's Note: This was to be the last chapter, but I may have gotten carried away with the smut. With the word count climbing, I decided to split it. Part Eight will be the conclusion.

Not beta read. Any mistakes are my own.

@aemonds-fire-writes is a fic only side blog I'm using instead of taglists. Please follow and turn on notifications. Likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated. Inbox is always open for questions or comments about my writing or anything else.

The Sapphire Spell Masterlist

Aemond Targaryen Masterlist

Main Blog @aemonds-fire

You did not think it possible for one to experience so many emotions and so much upheaval in such a short time. Your life has been upended in just over a week, taking you from painful heartbreak to, well, you don’t know where.

It has been three remarkable days since you helped a weakened Aemond into your parlor. Three whirlwind days of seeing his strength quickly return and an insatiable curiosity about his new world take hold. His captivating presence sweeps aside your sadness, but Aemond could also sweep you away, making it easy to lose yourself in him.

The two of you have sat together as you introduce him to opera on the cylinder phonograph. You watched him go through your library, already taking a stack of books back to his room to begin reading. He also stood quite patiently as you took his measurements and pinned your father’s shirts and trousers to send off to the tailor, ordering clothes that would fit him properly.

But during these innocent interactions, he can make you feel like there are butterflies inside of you with a glance in your direction. You find yourself wishing to be in his masculine embrace again, not to cry in sorrow but to indulge your craving for his touch.

Those feelings could tempt you to cast aside your inhibitions and society’s expectations regarding a lady’s conduct. But there is something else, something you can’t put your finger on—a gnawing intuition that by helping him, you have irrevocably changed the course of your life.

While his behavior has been nothing but gentlemanly, there is an unsettling aspect to him. You’ve glimpsed flashes of a turbulent intensity simmering beneath a composed exterior. However, at the moment, your main cause of worry is his complete dismissal of the practical problems his existence poses for you.

Over breakfast comes your first real disagreement over his wish to explore the city. During your long conversations with him, you tried to describe all of the activities to be found in this new Kings Landing. You understand his desire to experience all of the things the city has to offer; this is a perfectly natural request, especially for him.

“Aemond, mourning in today’s society is a very strict custom. Ladies are expected to refrain from socializing and frivolous pursuits for an extended period of time,” you try to explain to him. “To be seen publicly in the company of an unknown man is scandalous enough; to do so while in mourning will destroy my reputation."

“To be expected to barely even leave your home is absurd,” he huffs in annoyance.

You continue; your growing stress is causing you to ramble. “When the servants return, I have no idea how I am to explain your presence here.”

Simply shrugging his shoulders, he replies, “They are servants and need no explanation. You are the lady of the house, and I am your guest. That is all.”

Pinching the bridge of your nose as you feel a headache coming on, you sigh. “That may have worked for a royal prince, but it will not work for me. An unmarried man living with an unmarried woman…” You cannot even finish the sentence, simply shaking your head in growing distress.

Sighing, Aemond extends his long arm across the table, taking hold of your hand. “You are worrying too much,” his voice taking a confident tone that you find calming. While his thumb caresses the back of your hand, he goes on. “You need to remember that you are not alone. I am here with you. I will not allow anyone to show you any disrespect.”

When you open your mouth to speak, he gently cuts you off. “Do you really not wish to go out, or is it because you have been told you cannot go out?”

Your smile at that question gives him his answer. “Whenever Aegon or I wished to go into the city, we would disguise ourselves in peasant clothes. We shall simply do something similar."

You can only shake your head at his sly smile, knowing that you cannot refuse him.

To you, his personality is powerful and alluring; he makes you feel that if he tells you he will make everything alright, he will.

After quickly clearing the table, you leave to go to your room to find something to wear. Muttering on your way out, “You’re going to ruin me.” You miss the smirk that comes over his face as he follows behind you.

You choose an older, dark-colored dress that is a bit worn and a little out of style, along with a veiled hat, hoping to look less affluent than you are. Since Aemond’s new clothes arrived the day before, you paired some items with a few of your father’s older and worn garments, but with his new black leather eye patch, he still cuts a striking figure.

Aemond’s hair, you simply tie it back. Since he already made it clear that he doesn’t care if men’s hairstyles are shorter, his hair will not be cut for any reason. As you are preparing to leave the house, you learn that he does not like hats and has no intention of wearing one. Trying to explain that no one, either male or female, goes out without a hat does not sway him at all. Furthermore, you discover that he has “borrowed” a dagger that once belonged to a Braavosi sealord from the collection.

“I will not take you out into the city without a weapon to defend us if needed,” he argues as you give him an exasperated look. “Hmm…, fine, I will wear the hat, but I keep the dagger,” he obstinately huffs, his scowl and defiant posture making it clear the weapon is not negotiable.

Despite your misgivings, you cannot help but delight in Aemond’s joyful moments. Kings Landing has changed in many ways, but in some ways it has not. Some of the streets still have names that he recognizes.

A walk in the park lets him reacquaint himself with the feel of the sun on his face. The cooling breeze carries the scents of grass and flowers in the air and rustles the leaves on the trees. The sight and sounds of people strolling past and engaging in various activities capture his attention.

The two of you wander the city, with you following his lead, occasionally pausing when something stirs memories for him. You can feel the emotions swirling within him as he looks upon the remaining ruins of the Red Keep and the hill where the Dragonpit once stood. Aemond does not say much at times, and you let him sort his feelings without interference, quietly offering comfort with a gentle touch on his arm or letting him hold your hand.

At one point, he leads you up a walkway near the old Iron Gate to the top of the wall surrounding the city. The two of you stay silent for a few moments, taking in the view of Blackwater Bay, but Aemond mostly stares off into the distance.

“Vhagar was much too large for the Dragonpit. She used to sleep on the beach over there,” he tells you quietly, pointing to a large stretch of sand.

You have learned that he is good at masking his emotions, rarely letting on what he truly feels, but you can hear the wistfulness in his voice.

“I’m sure you miss her. She must have been quite a sight to behold.”

That gets a bit of a smile from him. “Yes, she was.”

“Drogon was the last dragon anyone ever saw. No one knows where he went or what happened to him.” Turning to look at him, “I can’t imagine what it must have been like to see dragons flying in the sky over the city."

“It was an incredible sight, though one I took for granted then.” Giving you a curious look, he asks, “Have you ever dreamt of flying on the back of a dragon?”

Laughing, “Perhaps as a child, but I’m sure I would be utterly terrified at the sight of a dragon now. Flying on one, no, I don’t think I would.”

Getting a rare grin from him, he disagrees. “Hmm, I think you would love it once you got past your fear.”

Later, you find yourself on the Street of Looms, where he pulls you into a shop that sells leather goods. You see him breathe deeply, taking in a fond and familiar smell. There is a long, dark leather coat that makes his eye light up. You end up purchasing it along with boots and several other items for him, giving the proprietor your address for delivery.

After making your way to the Street of Flour, the two of you rest with a quiet meal in one of the many establishments to choose from. After the sun sets and the evening crowds begin to get more lively, you both take in an outdoor performance that you both find highly entertaining.

Eventually, pleading that you can walk no more, you find a carriage to take you back home. During the ride, with the street lights casting fleeting shadows, Aemond leans over to you. “I want to thank you for today and for everything you have done for me.”

“You’re welcome" are the only words you can speak. Anything else you might have said catches in your throat at the impassioned look on his face, his eye burning your skin with the heat of his gaze. Feeling self-conscious, you try to look away, but his fingers on your chin prevent you. His lips barely brush against yours in the faintest hint of a kiss as the carriage begins to slow before coming to a halt in front of your home.

Once inside your quiet house, you both make yourselves more comfortable, with Aemond rolling up his shirt sleeves and unbuttoning his collar. With the feel of his lips on yours causing lingering sensations, you nervously turn on a lamp in the parlor, giving the room a faint glow. Anticipation for what may come next sets your mind and body aflutter.

Aemond strides to a table along the wall, opening a bottle and pouring two snifters of your father’s brandy. You take a seat on the couch as he hands you your glass, your fingertips brushing in the exchange.

Smiling as you notice his choice of drink, you remark, “I see you found the brandy.”

“Yes, this is very good. We did not have this centuries ago.” He remains on his feet with an almost heightened energy about him, despite the day’s activity.

“There is something I need to talk with you about," he says, looking at you with a serious expression on his chiseled features.

Eyeing him curiously while taking a sip of your brandy and remembering that it is much stronger than what you usually drink, you merely nod in encouragement.

“I do not plan to remain in Kings Landing for long,” he says firmly. “I need to go to Old Valyria.”

Your lips part in shock, and you almost stumble on your words. “Aemond, no one goes to Old Valyria. No one has ever come back from Old Valyria.”

Finally joining you on the couch, sitting so close that you can smell the orange and spices of the brandy on his breath, he responds without hesitation, “I can. I know things about Old Valyria that no one else does.”

Your mind spins in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“I’ve seen Old Valyria, when I would allow myself to drift for long periods of time,” he explains, growing more intense as he speaks. “The Doom destroyed much; there are only some ruins left, but the land has recovered. It is a beautiful place now.”

The mere thought of Aemond disappearing from your life is enough to cause your heart to sink, but the shock of his intention to travel to a place that is believed to be a dangerous and deserted wasteland is something you desperately want to talk him out of.

“Ameond, anyone who has gone there has never returned; they have vanished without a trace,” you remind him, unable to keep your growing distress out of your voice. “I cannot understand why you would want to go there.”

“I have to go there,” he insists. “The land is protected. Some people, descendents of Valyrians, have slowly returned, and they live there, hidden from the rest of the world.”

Your dismay at his unwavering certainty about a course of action that you feel is insanity has you desperately asking, “Even if there are people there, why do you have to go there?”

His eye almost burns you with the intensity of his stare, and the corners of his mouth turn up in a smile that has no humor in it. “I will restore not only House Targaryen but Old Valyria. I will rule a new Valyrian kingdom.” He pauses for a moment to allow his words to sink in before continuing, “I will rewrite my legacy. I will not be remembered as a Kinslayer, but as a true-born son with the blood of the dragon who built a kingdom from ruins.”

Stunned by his words, you cannot hide your disbelief. “You plan to go to Old Valyria and somehow take over and become a king?”

His face instantly hardens. “Do not doubt me,” he warns, his voice lowering.

Instantly, you know deep in your bones that he will never be dissuaded from the path he intends to take. The near madness you see in his eye is almost frightening, and the ferocity of his determination radiates from him. It dawns on you that everything he suffered—even death—did not quell his blatant desire for power. To rule is what he seeks above all else, and that chills your blood.

And there are other feelings that have you pressing your lips together to keep them from trembling. His leaving will feel like another loss for you, another empty space in your life, so soon after losing your father.

Suddenly, you need to be away from him. You feel like every emotion you possess is churning within you and threatening to overcome you. You take a deep breath, hoping you can speak without faltering. “I’m afraid the day has been more tiring than I expected. Please excuse me; I believe I shall retire for the night.” Without waiting for a response, you get up, going up the stairs as fast as your trembling legs can carry you. Only once your bedroom door is shut behind you do you allow a tear to fall from your eyes.

As you lean against the door, you hear his footsteps on the stairs; the sounds grow louder as he comes down the hallway. You hope he continues past your door to his own room, but he does not. You feel the vibration along your back when he knocks firmly on the door.

“Please open the door. You didn’t let me finish.”

Wiping the tears from your face, you step away from the door. “It’s getting rather late. I think it would be best if we talked again tomorrow."

“No, we will talk about this now,” he stubbornly insists before opening the door himself and entering your bedroom.

Startled, you take a step back, your eyes flashing in surprise and anger at his intrusion into your room. “Aemond, I do not wish to discuss this further. If you choose this madness, then so be it. I cannot stop you.” Unable to deal with this now, you tiredly sigh, “Please leave,” as you try to turn away from him.

Before you can even take a step, his hand grips your arm, pulling you back. Towering over you, he insists, “You will listen to what I have to say.”

His hold on your arm is firm but not hurtful. Biting your lip to hold your tongue, you decide to let him have his say without complaint. Looking up at him, knowing the hurt you feel must show in your eyes, you wait for him to continue.

Unclenching his jaw, he takes a breath, his eye never wavering from yours. “I must go to Old Valyria, and I will be their king. I want you to come with me and be my queen.”

Your shock leaves you speechless; your lips parted in astonishment. Your eyes search his features, realizing that he is completely serious. Before you can speak, your head is instinctively shaking in refusal. “No, I can’t. My life is here, with the museum. I can’t leave everything I have on some folly that I don’t believe is possible.”

Fearful that your words would anger him, you are surprised when your rejection only brings a smirk to his face. The next thing you know, you are being held tightly in his arms. “It will be anything but folly when we rule a new Valyrian kingdom together,” he whispers in your ear. “It will take time, but I promise you that our children will be princes and princesses.

His long fingers rest on the back of your neck, preventing you from pulling back as he kisses you, softly at first, and then with a growing hunger that will not be denied, leaving you clinging to him. His insistent tongue, warm and wet, parts your trembling lips and deepens the kiss. He only breaks his torrid kisses momentarily to murmur more promises against your skin.

Overcome by sensations you have never felt before, you can only gasp his name breathlessly. You do not even know what you want. A voice inside you warns against this and tries to remind you who he truly is, but the part of you that is mesmerized by his Targaryen beauty and powerful presence yearns for this.

He overwhelms your misgivings and fears with lips scorching your skin and hands pulling at fabric and tearing buttons. A powerful arm around you, tightly gripping the curve of your hip, holds you to him. A strong hand is determined to caress and knead every inch of skin it can find and to expose more. Sharp teeth nip your flesh before soft, wet lips soothe it. And it is your own body that betrays you by refusing to offer any resistance.

It is only the press of his hardening length against your body that startles you, rousing a sudden fear at how quickly this has escalated. “Aemond…we shouldn’t,” is all you can breathlessly murmur before he silences you with another deep kiss, halting any resistance as he pushes his tongue past your lips, invading your mouth. He easily lifts you off your feet, carrying you to your bed and laying you down before covering your body with his own.

Your skin feels aflame when large hands start squeezing your bare breasts and teasing the stiffened peaks with little tugs and pinches, forcing you to bite your lip to keep from moaning loudly. You watch when he dips his head to your breast, unable to look away as his pink tongue darts over your hardened nipple, lapping and flicking, before his lips latch onto it and he starts to suckle like a hungry babe. “I’m going to make you mine tonight,” he tells you, his soft voice thick with lust as his mouth moves to the other breast. The scorching, wet heat of his lips and the slow swirling of his tongue around your pebbled peak leaves you dazed and whimpering.

Raising himself off the bed, he stands at the edge, a hungry gaze in his eye as he takes in your nearly naked form. He pulls off his eye patch, tossing it aside, showing you the bewitched sapphire. Confidently, he strips off his remaining clothes, and with one hand, he gives his hard length a lazy stroke.

The lustfulness he has awakened battles with how vulnerable you feel at the sight of his finely sculpted body, long limbs, and defined muscles. But it is your view of his long cock, with prominent veins and a glistening pink head, that lights a warmth between your legs. A paralyzing mix of thirst and fearfulness leaves you helpless when he takes hold of your ankle. Running his slender fingers up the length of your leg, undoing your garters to tug down your stockings before repeating the sensual movement on your other leg. Once he pulls off your silken chemise, you are completely bare to him, your stays and petticoats long since cast aside.

Your eyes go wide with shock when he kneels on the floor and pulls you closer, settling his face between your parted legs. With one hand firmly gripping your thigh, he murmurs, “So pretty,” against your skin between wet kisses. His fingers slide easily through your moistened cunt, with feather-light brushes over your bundle of nerves.

You lay with your eyes on the ceiling of your room, trying to process these new sensations he is eliciting between your legs. Your nails dig into your palms with each stroke of his long finger through your folds and each tease of your sensitive bud. He’s silent now, and somehow that only intensifies your awareness of every sensation. The quiet of the room is broken by a sharp gasp when he inserts a long digit inside of you, quickly followed by the heat of his tongue flicking your little pearl.

He alternates between licking and gently sucking on your little bud, using his mouth to tease and toy with it, causing your breathing to become more ragged. Your back arches off the bed when he begins pushing two fingers inside of your tight cunt, finding another intensely sensitive spot within you and keeping up a steady rhythm. It takes a moment for your muddled brain to understand that the wet squelching sounds you hear are coming from him pumping his fingers in and out of you, while his thumb now rubs the bundle of nerves. Little whimpers escape you as an unfamiliar tightening thrums deep inside you, causing you to bite your lip to keep from crying out.

“Cum for me, raqiarzītsos. Cum on my fingers.” ( little darling )

The commanding tone of his voice makes you snap your eyes open to find him intently watching you lose yourself to a peak that feels like electricity flows through your veins and leaves you shaking with euphoria. You can barely make out the word “gevie” whispered against your skin as he leans over you, his lips leaving wet kisses as his mouth moves up your quivering body, pausing to suckle loudly at your breast, his tongue laving your stiff nipple. His large hands grab you under your arms, lifting you further back onto the bed before settling his slim hips between your legs. ( beautiful )

He captures your mouth in a deep kiss that takes away your breath, his tongue twisting with your own, letting you taste yourself. You can feel his stiff member, long and thick, hot against your thigh. “It’s time to make you mine,” he breathes as he slides his cock through your wet folds. He hooks his arm under your knee, opening you wider for him as the tip of his shaft begins inching inside of you.

You’re gripping his arms tightly as a burning stretch increases as you take more of his painfully hard cock inside of you, ripping a sob and his name from your lips. You tug on a handful of his silvery hair when a sharp twinge of pain from a forceful thrust fills you with his entire length. Your innocence and his size make you fear you are being split apart, bringing tears to your eyes and causing you to cling to him tightly.

Aemond holds himself steady inside of you while brushing his lips against your cheek, softly whispering beautiful-sounding Valyrian words to you. Slowly, he withdraws almost all the way before easing his length back in. “The pain will fade quickly, I promise,” he murmurs.

You can feel the tautness of his muscles as he keeps a slow, easy pace, giving your body a chance to adjust to him. The pain does lessen, diminishing with each stroke and changing into something pleasurable. You hear a deep hum of satisfaction when you open your eyes, fixing your gaze on his face.

“You’re taking me so well,” he praises you as he gradually increases the strength of his thrusts, rocking his hips against you. Panting against your neck, “So fucking tight, raqiarzītsos.” More soft groans and hums fall from his mouth as he takes his own pleasure from your body.

A silvery curtain falls around your face with each snap of his hips, his sapphire eye gleams, and his nose brushes yours. His scent, with hints of leather and musk, intoxicates you as he pushes your thighs up, letting him bury his cock deeper. This new angle allows him to bully the sweet spot inside you harder, making you moan out loud and rake your nails along the pale skin of his back. His fingers move between your bodies to find their way to your already stimulated bud, rapidly rubbing circles.

The coil of pleasure begins to build low in your belly again, causing you to cling to him tighter, wanting the feel of his weight on you. A quick gasp of his name is all you can utter as you bury your face in his neck, your fingers tangling in his hair.

Your peak hits like a dam burst inside you, releasing waves of ecstasy along every nerve. A strangled scream is muffled when his lips crash against yours as your body shudders and writhes beneath him as he continues to thrust forcefully into you.

“Ao issi ñuhon, ñuhus ābrazȳrys, ñuhus dāria." ( You are mine, my wife, my queen. )

His words are more guttural grunts than speech, as your walls clench around his length. While still in the throes of your own peak, you faintly feel his cock twitching inside you. After a few erratic thrusts, he slams his cock as deep as he can go and stays there while he cums, grunting low and panting in the crook of your neck with his own release.

The world seems surreal as you lie underneath him, every sense heightened. The glistening sheen of sweat on his body, the soft hair on his chest and legs brushing over your smooth skin, and the size of his palm splayed around your hip imprint on your mind. You shiver slightly when he rolls off you, taking his warmth with him. When he rises from the bed, walking over to your wash basin, you notice faint streaks of your blood on his softened cock.

After gently cleaning you and them himself, Aemond pulls you under the covers with his arms wrapped around you, holding you tight against him, with faint brushes of his lips along your jaw, and softly murmuring in High Valyrian to you.

“Aemond,” you whisper when you finally find your voice, unsure of what you even want to say.

“Sleep now, raqiarzītsos. I have you, and everything will be alright,” he murmurs soothingly, placing a soft kiss on your head. “I will always take care of you.”

Exhaustion and his warmth soon overtake you, allowing you to drift off to sleep, but not before one last thought and a flicker of apprehension go through your mind. ‘What have I done?’

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