Phoebe

Word Count: 1.5k

Themes: just pure lovin fluff as per the delightful request, reader and aemond r cutie simps, alcohol consumption, tooth rotting fluff!!!

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You stand in the wings of the bustling backstage area of the Highgarden Haute Couture fashion show, surrounded by the orchestrated chaos of models, designers, and stylists making last-minute adjustments. It’s one of the biggest nights of the season, and the energy is electric. You adjust your clothes and take a moment to centre yourself before stepping out onto the runway. A makeup artist fusses around you, dabbing blusher on your cheeks, but you hardly hear her.

For the past several years, you’ve become a household name in the fashion world, the face of numerous campaigns and covers. But tonight’s event is something special. Highgarden Haute Couture is your home turf, where you first made a name for yourself, and tonight, the stakes are higher than ever.

Out in the audience, Aemond Targaryen, the man turned boyfriend who has somehow managed to capture both your heart and admiration, sits in the front row. As one of F1’s top drivers, he’s usually more at home in the paddock or racing down a track at breakneck speed. But tonight, he’s traded his race suit for an impeccably tailored black velvet suit that hugs his athletic frame. His slicked back silver hair and amethyst eyes amplify his allure, drawing all eyes to him, even in a room filled with models and celebrities.

The lights dim, and the music shifts to a rhythmic pulse that echoes in your body. You’re next. As you prepare to step onto the runway, a small, knowing smile plays on your lips. You know Aemond is watching, his gaze unyielding and proud. You can feel the heat of it, even from backstage.

When you finally stride out onto the runway, the audience’s eyes turn to you, but you only have eyes for one person in the crowd. Amidst the flashing cameras and whispers of the fashion elite, Aemond’s gaze is the anchor that grounds you. The way he looks at you, with such pride and admiration, sends a thrill up your spine.

Each step you take is deliberate and confident, your body draped in the exquisite fabric of Highgarden’s latest collection. The dress is a masterpiece, a delicate blend of sheer lace, and intricate floral embroidery that clings to your frame, accentuating every curve. You feel powerful, beautiful, and bolstered by your loving boyfriend.

You reach the end of the runway and hold your pose, letting the photographers capture the moment. As you turn to make your way back, hips swaying, your eyes meet Aemond’s. His lips curve into a smile, one that’s just for you, and your heart skips a beat. You’re used to adoring fans and lavish praise, but nothing compares to the silent support and unwavering belief Aemond gives you.

After the show, you find Aemond waiting for you backstage. The chaos of the event swirls around you, but the moment you see him, everything else fades into the background. He’s leaning against a column, hands tucked into his pockets, his expression one of casual confidence. The moment his eye meets yours, he straightens, his smile widening.

“You were incredible,” he says as you approach, pulling you into a warm embrace. “That dress was made for you."

You laugh softly, feeling the adrenaline from the show begin to ebb away. “It was, wasn’t it? But you’re just biased.”

“Perhaps,” he agrees, brushing a kiss to your forehead. “But that doesn’t make it any less true.”

You pull back slightly to look up at him, your fingers lightly tracing the edge of his lapel. “Thank you for coming. I know this isn’t really your scene.”

He shrugs, his expression fond. “It is when you’re here. Besides, how could I miss watching my favourite model steal the show?”

Your cheeks warm under his gaze, and you feel a rush of affection for the man standing before you. It’s moments like these, away from the glitz and glamour, that you cherish the most. “And what about you, Mr. Targaryen? What’s next on your agenda?”

His grin turns slightly mischievous, and you know he’s up to something. “I have a surprise for you,” he says, his voice low and teasing.

“Oh?” You raise an eyebrow. “Should I be worried?”

“Only if you don’t like sunshine and secluded beaches,” he replies, producing two plane tickets from his jacket pocket and handing them to you.

Your eyes widen in surprise as you take the tickets, scanning the details. “Dorne?” You squeal. “You’re taking me to Dorne?"

Aemond nods, his satisfaction evident. “A little getaway. Just you, me, and the sun. I figured we both could use a break.”

You can hardly contain your excitement as you throw your arms around him, pulling him into a tight hug. The idea of escaping the hectic schedules and demands of your respective careers for a private holiday is too enticing to resist. “You’re amazing, you know that?”

He chuckles, wrapping his arms around you. “I try. So, are you in?”

“Absolutely,” you reply, already imagining the golden sands and shimmering waters of Dorne. “When do we leave?”

“Tomorrow morning,” he says, leaning down to capture your lips in a soft kiss.

The next day, the two of you board a private jet bound for Dorne. The flight is luxurious and comfortable, allowing you to unwind and enjoy each other’s company. As the plane soars above the clouds, you steal loving glances at Aemond, who’s reclining in his seat, his expression relaxed and content, glass of whiskey in hand. He looks every bit the handsome, confident man you fell in love with, and you feel a swell of gratitude.

You land in Dorne to a burst of warm sunlight and a gentle breeze that carries the scent of the sea. A sleek car waits to take you to your destination—a secluded beachfront villa nestled amidst lush greenery and overlooking the crystal-clear waters of the Summer Sea.

As you step out of the car, the view takes your breath away. The beach stretches out before you, its sands golden and inviting, and the sound of waves gently lapping at the shore fills the air. It’s paradise, a world away from the demands of your careers.

Aemond takes your hand, guiding you toward the villa. “What do you think?” he asks, his voice holding a note of nervous anticipation.

“It’s perfect,” you breathe, feeling a sense of peace wash over you. “Thank you, Aemond. This is exactly what we needed.”

He smiles, pleased by your reaction. “I thought so. Come on, let’s make the most of it.”

The days blend into a blissful routine of sun-soaked relaxation and intimate moments. You spend your mornings lounging on the beach, the warm sand beneath you and the sun kissing your skin. Aemond joins you, his presence a comforting constant, as he reads or indulges in light-hearted teasing.

In the afternoons, you explore the beauty of Dorne, wandering through picturesque towns and savoring the local cuisine. The vibrant colors and rich culture captivate you, and you find yourself enchanted by the land and how you can share it with your lover.

One evening, as the sun begins its descent, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink, you find yourself back at the villa, enjoying a quiet dinner on the terrace. The table is set with an array of delectable dishes, and the soft glow of candles adds a romantic touch to the scene.

You gaze at Aemond across the table, your heart full of gratitude for this unforgettable experience. “I could get used to this,” you confess, sipping a glass of chilled Dornish wine.

He chuckles, reaching across the table to take your hand in his. “So could I. But don’t worry; we still have a few more days before reality calls us back.”

After dinner, you move to the lounge, where a gentle breeze carries the soothing sounds of the ocean through the open windows. You curl up on the plush couch, Aemond’s arm draped over your shoulders.

“I’m so glad you’re here with me,” you murmur, resting your head against his chest.

He presses a soft kiss to your forehead. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

As the stars begin to twinkle above, you find yourself lost in the contentment of the moment. It’s a rare escape from the demands of your lives.

Aemond shifts slightly, drawing you closer. “You know,” he begins, his voice low and tender, “watching you on that runway, seeing how incredible you are at what you do… it made me realize how lucky I am.”

You tilt your head to meet his gaze, your heart swelling with affection. “You’re my biggest fan, Aemond. I couldn’t do it without you.”

He smiles, his eye glinting with warmth. “And you’re mine. We make quite the team, don’t we?”

You nod, feeling a sense of certainty in his words. In the paddock, on the runway, your hearts belong to each other.

• • • • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • • • •

Word Count: 1.7k

Themes: SMUT, 18+, aemond is a simp, oral, worship sex, mirror sex, p in v, pearl necklace, creampie, reader is a baddie and she knows it, aemond's got both eyes

i'm aware the model world isn't as glam as it seems but for fanfic's sake let's pretend xoxo

part two here

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"Here's your coffee, Miss Y/N." Your personal assisant Dyana scampers over to give you your to-go coffee order, an oat milk cappuccino, which you gratefully accept.

You're standing on the sunlit grid of the Oldtown International Circuit, the excitement of the Grand Prix hanging in the air.

For you, a supermodel who has graced the covers of every major fashion magazine, the scene is exhilarating. This isn’t your usual glamorous world of the runway, but an invitation from the brand you model for brought you here. And standing in the middle of it all, with the air of a man who owns the entire circuit, is Aemond.

Your invite is no ordinary gesture; you're the face of Highgarden Haute Couture, and your presence at the latest F1 Grand Prix is meant to be a statement. As you weave through the paddock, you notice Aemond’s unmistakable figure. He stands by the Red Bolton racing team’s pit, looking every bit the modern racer in his red-and-black racing suit.

You’ve seen photos of him before—the handsome Aemond Targaryen, the rising star in the F1 racing world. Pictures don’t quite capture the striking presence he has in person, though, with his silver-blond hair and piercing eyes.

You catch his eye just as you're adjusting your oversized designer sunglasses, a smirk playing on your lips. His gaze is unwavering, even from a distance. A hint of a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth—a challenge.

You approach him with confidence that matches his own, feeling the heat of the midday sun and the collective gaze of the crowd.

“Impressive,” he drawls, his voice a low rumble. “I wasn’t expecting to see the Highgarden Haute Couture ambassador gracing the pits of an F1 race. Not quite the runway, is it?”

“Not quite,” you reply, matching his sarcastic tone. “But speed has its own allure, don’t you think? Not everything has to be about strutting down a runway to be thrilling.”

His smile widens, revealing a flash of amusement. “Indeed. And what brings you specifically to Oldtown? Here to witness some real action or to simply grace us with your divine presence?”

You tilt your head slightly, enjoying the banter. “Maybe I just wanted to see if the legend of Aemond Targaryen matched the reality. You’ve got quite the reputation.”

“And what’s the verdict?” he asks, leaning his gorgeous body casually against the sleek body of his Red Bolton car, as if he has all the time in the world.

“I’d say reality is exceeding expectations,” you admit, pushing your sunglasses down your nose for effect, allowing your eyes to linger on him for a beat longer than necessary.

He raises an eyebrow, clearly pleased by your answer. “Likewise. I’ve heard of your successes. Modelling must be quite the race in its own way. But here, it’s all about strategy and speed.”

“Then let’s see if your strategy is as good as they say,” you challenge, feeling a rush of excitement. “After all, I didn’t come all this way just for the scenery.”

Just as you're about to continue your back and forth, a team member approaches Aemond, indicating that the race is about to start. He nods, acknowledging the interruption, then turns his attention back to you.

“Stay close,” he suggests, his voice carrying a promise of more to come. “After the race, I’ll show you why this world is as exciting as any catwalk.” You nod, acting with an unimpressed air as you flip your hair and walk away.

You watch the race from the VIP area, a glass of prosecco in hand. Aemond's Red Bolton car shoots down the track, weaving through the pack with precision and grace. The sheer speed and skill he displays are breathtaking, as if he's dancing on the edge of control. Each turn and straightaway is a testament to his expertise, and you can't help but admire his talent.

As the laps progress, you feel yourself drawn into the excitement of the race. Aemond is relentless, pushing his car to the limit as he battles for the lead despite starting on pole. The crowd roars with approval, and you find yourself cheering along with them, caught up in the adrenaline of the moment.

Finally, after a heart-pounding final lap, Aemond crosses the finish line in first place. The stadium erupts in applause and cheers, and you can’t help but join in. His victory is well-deserved, and you feel a surge of admiration for the man who conquered both the track and your attention.

As the celebrations commence after the podium, you find yourself drawn back to the pits, where Aemond is basking in the glory of his win. He looks like a king who’s just claimed his throne, his eyes bright with triumph. He spots you amid the crowd and makes his way over, a glint of satisfaction in his gaze.

“Well?” he asks, that familiar teasing tone back in his voice. “Was that thrilling enough for you?”

“Impressive performance,” you reply, genuinely impressed. “I can see why they call you the best.”

He chuckles, a deep, genuine sound. “Flattery will get you everywhere, especially when it’s coming from someone like you.”

You roll your eyes playfully, but there's an undeniable chemistry between you—a spark that promises more than just banter. As the sun begins to set over the Oldtown Circuit, painting the sky in hues of gold and crimson, you find yourself looking forward to a night with your champion.

“Care for a victory drink?” he proposes. “The bars are a no-go, but my hotel has excellent room service.”

“I’d like that,” you agree, linking your arm with Aemond, who visibly preens at having some real arm candy by his side.

Aemond's hotel room at the centre of Oldtown is lavish and luxurious, exactly what you're used to. You send Dyana a quick text to let her know you won't be needing dinner at your own hotel tonight. And that you might be bringing a date to the brand event tomorrow.

Aemond orders you a selection of wines to choose from to his room, and you sit on the balcony sipping a Dornish red as Aemond lights you a cigarette.

You love being watched. It's why you're a model. You love the camera, love the fans, and the admiration. You love your job, and right now, you love Aemond's eyes on you. The way his eyes follow your perfectly painted lips as you take a delicate sip. The way his eyes linger on your chest, your coiffed hair, manicured nails. You smile into the glass, loving the effect you have on such a gorgeous man.

The sun has truly set by the time the bottle has been finished, and you find yourself sat on a chaise longue as Aemond kisses your hand.

"You're beautiful, you know?" He murmurs. You giggle chastely, allowing him to kiss the corner of your mouth. "And you're smart, so lovely." His lips seem to beg for more.

You indulge him, kissing him and letting his hands wander to your hips, pulling you closer. His grip becomes firmer as your hands wrap around his shoulders.

"Let me have you, princess." He whispers against your lips. You pretend to think, as he huffs against your neck. You stand up, holding your hand out and walking him like a dog to the massive plush bed.

Aemond sinks to his knees as you lie back from the edge. His hands revently take off your red dress, smoothing over your curves and soft skin. He shakily exhales, massaging your tits, and you guide his head down to meet your perfect pussy.

Aemond's eyes roll back at your sweetness, tongue lapping against your folds. You moan lightly, hands digging into his scalp as you scratch him with your nails.

Aemond's mouth is masterful. He glides over your spread labia, tonguing at your soaked hole, suckling your aching clit. You throw your head back, turning your gaze to the side and notice the huge mirror that covers one wall. You pussy gushes with excitement at your idea, but you are distracted by Aemond's pointed tongue flicking your nub, his fingers curling inside your heat to draw a long, languid orgasm from your hips.

Breathlessly, you sit up, shoving his pants down as he kneels above you on the bed. Your lips part around his cock, your hands jerking the shaft and massaging his balls. Aemond makes the most lascivious noises, your tongue swirling against his tip in a pattern that mimics an infinity symbol.

Aemond caresses your glossy hair, hips bucking into your face as he draws pleasure from your tight throat. You suck in your cheeks, swallowing hard and he cums, pulling out to spray ropes of white hot cum against your collar and chest. You gasp, pussy ablaze.

Aemond pants, kissing you hotly as you let his cum dry on your plush skin, a welcome decoration. He follows your eyeline to the mirror, smirking as he understands your desire. His big hands hoist you you until your bent over with your perfect ass in the air, facing the mirror.

You nearly cum at the sight that greets you, hair mussed up, lashes dewey, covered in Aemond's cum, and the man himself behind you, ready to fuck you senseless in doggy.

His nudges his cockhead through your lips, sheathing himself fully. You moan at the sight of his abs flexing, appreciating the Greek God of a man as he fucks you hard and fast with rapid snaps of his hips.

He is gorgeous, your true match, and Aemond reaches to rub your clit with his deft fingers, and you mewl at the feeling of another breathtaking orgasm at Aemond's hands.

His cock fills you up to completion, and you relish at how his eyes are glued to your tits, your open mouth, your eyes that are lost in ecstasy. He lets out a strangled moan, desperately rubbing your clit as he cums deep inside you, gasping at how your pussy flutters around him as you cum.

You both lie there, eyes locked in the mirror as Aemond strokes your back and hair softly, as if you're made of glass. You smile at him, rolling onto your side to steal a kiss from the man that stole the Grand Prix title and your heart.

• • • • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • • • •

Word Count: 2.4k

Themes: SMUT, 18+, blood!!, blood drinking, really rough p in v, neck biting, praise, creampie, alcohol consumption

note gwayne isn't depicted as a vampire from any sort of series or show, he's just generically a vamp lol

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After a long, dreary day at work, you’re finally back in your apartment, throwing your keys onto the counter with a huff. You can still hear your boyfriend—no, ex-boyfriend’s—voice echoing in your head.

Jason Lannister. The epitome of a scumbag wrapped in expensive suits and golden hair, whose charm had first blinded you and now left you seething. You hadn’t even been surprised when you caught him cheating, really. He’d been pulling away for weeks now, finding excuses for late nights at the office, and acting suspiciously cagey about his phone.

“Good riddance,” you mutter to yourself, kicking off your shoes and making your way to the bedroom. You collapse on your bed, staring up at the ceiling, replaying the humiliating breakup over and over again. You knew he was a prick, yet somehow, it still stung.

The tears don’t come; perhaps they’re stuck somewhere in between shock and anger. All you feel is a numbing kind of sadness. You reckon you've been grieving this relationship for a while now.

Despite knowing you’re better off without him, the familiar weight of loneliness settles in your chest. With a groan, you reach for your phone, thinking about texting your best friend, Laena, but then decide against it. She’s probably busy, and you don’t want to drag her into your misery.

Just as you’re about to sink further into your self-imposed cocoon of pity, a loud banging at the door snaps you out of it. You blink, confused, until Laena’s voice reaches you.

“Hey, open up, babe! I brought reinforcements!”

You shuffle to the door and open it to find Laena standing there, a wide grin on her face and arms laden with Chinese takeaway bags. The savoury aroma of sweet and sour chicken wafts into your apartment, making your stomach rumble in response. You'd barely eaten thanks to the misery of Jason.

“Laena,” you sigh, stepping aside to let her in. “What are you doing here?”

“Saving you from the pits of despair,” she announces, sweeping past you and setting the bags down on the kitchen table. She turns, placing her hands on her hips. “I heard about the breakup. That bastard didn’t deserve you, anyway.”

You shrug, depressingly flopping down on a chair and grabbing a pair of chopsticks. “I know, but it still sucks."

Laena opens the containers, her expression softening. “It does. But you deserve better, and tonight, we’re going to forget about Jason Lannister. We’re going out.”

You pause mid-bite. “Out? I don’t know, Laena. I was planning to just wallow here.”

“Oh no, no, no,” she insists, shaking her head. “We’re hitting up The Alchemist’s Guild. It's the hottest place in King's Landing right now. There’s no way I’m letting you stay here and mope. And who knows, maybe a hot stranger will catch your eye?”

You chew thoughtfully, the idea slowly melting away your resistance. It’s been a while since you’ve let loose, and the idea of drowning your sorrows in music and drinks doesn’t sound too bad. Plus, Laena is incredibly persuasive.

“Fine,” you finally agree, much to her delight. “But I’m not promising that I'll be looking anything special.”

“Don’t worry, that’s why I’m here,” she says with a grin, pulling you into your bedroom to transform you for the night out.

An hour later, Laena’s makeover has you feeling like a different person. She’s chosen a striking black dress from the back of your wardrobe that hugs your curves perfectly and matches it with a bold red lipstick that screams party. Your eyes are lined with just the right amount of smokey shadow, making them pop, and your hair is styled to perfection.

“You look hot,” Laena declares, admiring her handiwork. “Jason who?”

You laugh, the heaviness of earlier starting to lift. “All right, let’s do this.” Laena, also dressed up in shimmering teal, screams excitedly, grabbing a shot of vodka for you each before you leave.

The Alchemist’s Guild buzzes with energy as soon as you step inside. The bar is packed, filled with people sipping colourful drinks and chatting animatedly under dim, atmospheric lights. You and Laena squeeze your way to the bar.

“Two Essos Elixirs please,” Laena says. She clinks her glass against yours when the drinks arrive.

“Cheers,” you say, taking a long sip. The pomegrante and vodka drink is fruity and strong, just what you need to kickstart the night.

As the night went on, you started to relax. The music, the drinks, and Laena’s infectious energy all combined to lift your spirits. After a while, she nudged you. “Let’s hit The Dragon Pit. I hear it’s wild tonight.” You both walk arm in arm to the club. You hear the music pumping several streets before you arrive.

It doesn’t take long for Laena to slip into the crowd, pulling you along with her as the music pulses around you. You lose yourself in the rhythm, dancing with Laena and screaming out your frustrations to the heavy music.

After a few songs, Laena nudges you. “I’m gonna grab another drink. Are you okay here?”

You nod, waving her off. “I’m good. Go.”

As Laena disappears back toward the bar, you continue dancing, revelling in the moment. The world fades away until it’s just you and the music, and it feels damn good.

A tap on your shoulder brings you back to reality, and you turn to see a tall, impossibly handsome man with auburn hair and striking eyes. His lips curl into a charming smile that’s almost predatory, sending a pleasant shiver down your spine.

“Mind if I join you?” he asks, his voice low and smooth, easily cutting through the noise.

“Not at all,” you reply, feeling your cheeks heat up as he steps closer, matching his movements to yours. His presence is exhilarating, drawing you in effortlessly.

“I’m Gwayne,” he introduces, leaning in slightly to be heard over the music.

You give him your name in return, trying not to be too obvious that you fancy the fuck out of him. He’s dressed impeccably in a tailored shirt that hints at the toned body beneath, and there’s an air of confidence about him that’s impossible to ignore. Jason Lannister couldn't hold a candle to this beautiful man in front of you.

As the song changes, Gwayne moves in closer, his hand resting lightly on your hip as you fall into a rhythm together.

The chemistry between you is electric, each glance and touch fanning the flames higher. When his fingers brush against your neck, a delicious shiver runs down your spine, and you tilt your head slightly, giving him silent permission. Gwayne seems entranced, and as he leans in, his lips graze your neck, igniting sparks that dance across your skin.

You lose track of time, lost in the moment, until Laena reappears beside you, a teasing grin on her face. She’s not alone; a blonde woman with bright eyes and a mischievous smile is by her side, clearly the reason for Laena’s extended absence.

“This is Rhaenyra,” Laena introduces, looping an arm around the woman’s waist. Rhaenyra gives you a knowing wink before turning her attention back to Laena, who’s already leaning in for a kiss.

Gwayne chuckles beside you, watching the interaction with amusement. “Seems like your friend is having a good time.”

You nod, feeling bold with a mix of alcohol and adrenaline. “So am I.”

Gwayne’s eyes darken slightly, his smile turning wicked. “In that case, how about we take this somewhere a bit more...private?”

Your heart skips a beat at the suggestion, the allure of what he’s offering far too tempting to resist. The club, with its flashing lights and pounding music, fades into the background as you consider his proposition.

“Sure,” you say, surprising yourself with the ease of your agreement. You nudge Laena to let her know, and she whoops loudly for you. You blush heavily as Gwayne laughs. It feels liberating, like stepping into a new world where you’re free to explore whatever you want without the shadow of the prick Jason looming over you.

Gwayne takes your hand, leading you through the throng of people and out into the cool night air. The streets are alive with the usual nightlife buzz, but Gwayne only has eyes for you. Now that you're away from the crowd, his eyes seem a little brighter, like there's liquid swirling in them. Were his teeth that sharp when he kissed you earlier?

His apartment is as stylish as you’d expect, a blend of modern decor and understated elegance. The moment you step inside, he’s on you again, his lips finding yours with a hunger that sets you aflame. You respond eagerly, wrapping your arms around his neck as he backs you toward the plush couch.

Gwayne’s focus on your neck returns, his lips trailing along your pulse with a near-reverent touch that sends tingles down your spine. It’s as though he’s savouring every moment, every taste, and you can’t get enough.

Eventually, he pulls back slightly, a curious gleam in his eyes. “You taste...incredible,” he murmurs, almost to himself. “Sweet, like nothing I’ve ever experienced before.”

The compliment sends a thrill through you, but there’s something more in his gaze, something deeper and darker that piques your curiosity.

“You’re not bad yourself,” you reply with a playful smile, tracing a finger along his jawline.

Gwayne chuckles, the sound rich and deep. “I have a proposition for you,” he says, his tone shifting to something more serious yet filled with desire. “Allow me to drink some of your blood. I promise you’ll find the experience...exquisite.”

The request takes you by surprise, and for a moment, you wonder if you’ve misheard.

"Blood?" You repeat with an incredulous laugh. "What are you, a vampire?" You giggle again, the amusement dying in your throat at his serious gaze. "Oh." You utter as he nods.

The sincerity in his eyes is undeniable, and a strange part of you isn’t entirely put off by the idea. In fact, it’s intriguing, offering a thrill of danger.

“What do I get in return?” you ask, curiosity winning over hesitation.

Gwayne’s smile widens like he's the cat that got the cream. "Riches, immortality. Name your price, my sweet."

You stared at him, your mind spinning. It should have scared you, but it didn’t. Instead, you felt a pang of excitement. “Only if you promise me a night of pleasure in return,” you replied, your voice steady.

His smile was one of pure delight. “Deal,” he said, his eyes gleaming. You smile back, equally hungry as you both lunge towards each other, hands digging into flesh as you kiss viciously.

Gwayne, with inhuman strength, grasped your hips and moved you atop him. You instinctively ground your hips down, gasping with delight as you felt his hardness press against your blazing pussy.

Gwayne lets a dark smile pull at his lips as he kneads your ass with sharp nails. You only pull apart to allow him to pull your dress over your head, ripping off your panties and bra. You mewl at the unfairness, hands begging to touch him. He rips his own shirt off, revealing toned muscles with pale skin. You rock harder against him, feeling his growing arousal as your pussy leaks over his trousers.

"Naughty girl," he rasps. "These trousers were expensive."

"Fuck the trousers," you mumble. "Fuck me instead."

"Oh how can I deny such a sweet request from my darling," Gwayne laughs, kissing you fiercely and unbuttoning his trousers. The way your pussy reacts to his hard lengthy cock makes your eyes roll back as Gwayne situates your hips above his.

You sink onto his hips, the sharp pain of his entering soon replaced by a luscious fullness that makes the most lewd noises fall from your parted lips.

Gwayne's eyes are alight with fire, a snarl pulling at his lips as his hands bounce you up and down on his cock. Hot pleasure licks at your insides as you ride him.

"Time to pay up, my sweetling." Gwayne rumbles against your lips, leaning down as you feel a sharp, sweet pain as his teeth sink into your neck, followed by a rush of pleasure that left you breathless.

Lightheaded and buoyed by the sensual feel of Gwayne suckling at your neck, your pussy bursts ablaze with a hot orgasm, your fingers deftly rubbing your clit as you cry out. Your pussy liquid seeps over his thighs. Gwayne moans against your neck, eyes rolling back at the sweetness of your blood as he pulls back. He licks your wound, lips and jaw dripping in your redness. Lightheaded, you moan at his glistening teeth, reaching to kiss him.

"I'm not finished with you yet, sweet thing." Gwayne moans, pulling you up to lie you on your back on the sofa. He grabs your hips to align his cock to your weeping hole.

He notches his cock against you, pushing in to your sensitive pussy. Gwayne's eyes flutter at how tight your pussy grips, yet he can't relinquish the sight of you writhing and mewling beneath him. Lips curled, he snaps his hips at a punishing pace, watching your tits bounce and mouth release the most lewd sounds of pleasure he's heard in a very long time.

"Gwayne," you stutter out, head swirling and pussy aching. "I'm so close!"

"Good, my pet, cum for me. Let me fill you up like a good girl, sweet one. I'll own you, you'll own me." He rasps against your lips as you crest your peak once more, crying to the heavens as your pussy quakes. Gwayne follows swiftly, cursing loudly and fucking his hot cum deep into you.

He watches your eyelids flutter close and he sighs softly, smiling. As you sleep, he carries you to the human bed he has for decor, resting you down and cleaning your wound and thoroughly fucked body.

You wake up sometime later, utterly spent and completely satisfied, in Gwayne's arms. Gwayne looked down at you, his eyes filled with something you couldn’t quite name.

“You’re incredible,” he whispered, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

“So are you,” you replied, smiling up at him. He grins sharply.

"I may have to keep you around. You keep up well with me for a human, but you'd do even better as a vampire."

• • • • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • • • •

Word Count: 2.8k

Themes: SMUT, 18+, poetic lesbian smex, oral smex, face riding, titty sucking, praise, alcohol consumption, cigarettes, nice fluff tho

• • • • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • • • •

The corridors of Blackwater University echo with the chatter of students bustling between classes. You find yourself standing at the notice board in the main hall, staring at the flyer announcing this year’s play: Romeo and Juliet. It’s tradition for the Drama Department to host an annual production, and this time, they’ve decided on Shakespeare’s timeless tragedy. You long to try out, but the fear of rejection is too strong.

“Thinking of trying out?” A familiar voice breaks your reverie. Cregan Stark, your best friend since forever and classmate in Valyrian History and Linguistics, appears beside you, flashing a teasing grin.

You shrug, feeling a mix of excitement and apprehension. “I don’t know. It’s been a while since I’ve been on stage.”

“You’d be great,” he insists, nudging you encouragingly. “Besides, imagine being a brave and playing Romeo. You would wow the entire audience!”

Rolling your eyes, you chuckle at his enthusiasm. Despite your reservations, you can’t deny the allure of the stage, the thrill of applause. And there’s another reason you’re considering it—a certain someone whose presence in the hallways never fails to make your heart skip a beat.

Helaena Targaryen, the ethereal beauty with her signature silver-blonde hair and pale eyes. You’ve harboured a quiet admiration for her, watching from afar without the guts to ask her out. You watch as she signs her name on the flyer, her friends cheering.

“Well, if you think so,” you concede finally, feeling a sense of determination. “I’ll give it a shot.” Cregan knocks you with his shoulder as you write out your name before dragging you to class.

The auditions are held in the university’s grand theatre, an antique hall with velvet seats and ornate chandeliers. As you wait for your turn, you catch a glimpse of Helaena. She’s sitting a few rows ahead, surrounded by friends, yet eyes looking ahead, lost in her thoughts.

When your name is called, you step onto the stage with a flutter of nerves. The audition goes smoothly, and the moment you finish, you feel a wave of exhilaration. Whether or not you get the part, you’ve taken the plunge.

A few days later, the cast list is posted. As you scan the names, your breath catches in your throat:

Romeo: [Your Name]

Juliet: Helaena Targaryen

A mix of excitement and nervousness floods your system. Cregan is ecstatic when he hears the news, clapping you on the back with congratulations.

“You’re going to be amazing, I'm getting a front row seat,” he assures you. “And maybe this is the chance you need to finally talk to her. My best gal needs some action, I bet it's got cobwebs down there!" Cregan laughs at his own joke, and then he yowls when you punch his arm in retaliation.

• • • • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • • • •

Rehearsals for Romeo and Juliet are underway before you know it. The director, Professor Harrold Westerling, is known for his passionate and somewhat unconventional methods. He often goes off on ranting tangents about his career as a thespian with the famous theatre group, the Kingsguards.

From the first rehearsal, Helaena proves to be a star. She’s a natural on stage, her performance enchanting and her characterisation of Juliet breathtaking. You can’t help but be drawn to her, and the scenes where your characters interact are charged with an undeniable chemistry.

“Romeo,” she says one afternoon, her voice just as lyrical as Shakespeare intended. “Deny thy father and refuse thy name.” You find yourself caught in her gaze. Her eyes, like amethysts, hold a challenge.

“Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love, and I’ll no longer be a Capulet,” you respond, the words rolling off your tongue with ease.

Helaena smiles, a knowing glint in her eyes. It’s a look that suggests she sees more than you reveal, a look that makes your heart race.

Between scenes, she’s charming and playful, often catching you off guard with her flirtatious banter. “I hope you don’t mind me stealing the spotlight,” she teases one day as you stand outside smoking during a break, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and passing you her energy drink to take a sip from.

You laugh, feeling the warmth of her attention. “I think we can share it.”

Her presence is intoxicating, and each rehearsal leaves you dreaming for the next. Cregan notices your growing attachment and offers his support, often helping you rehearse lines late into the night. He insists on wearing a wig he nicked from his sister to play Juliet, much to your amusement.

• • • • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • • • •

The night of the play arrives, and the theatre buzzes with excitement. Backstage, the cast is a flurry of activity, adjusting costumes and going over last-minute notes. You can feel the energy in the air, a mix of nerves and anticipation.

Helaena stands beside you, radiant in her Juliet costume. She looks every bit the part, ethereal and beautiful. “Ready for tonight?” she asks, her eyes meeting yours.

You nod, swallowing the lump in your throat. “As ready as I’ll ever be."

Her smile is reassuring, and she reaches out to hold your hand. You squeeze it tightly.

The curtain rises, and the play unfolds seamlessly. Each scene flows into the next, the audience captivated by the tragic tale of star-crossed lovers. Your chemistry with Helaena is unreal, each interaction charged with emotion and intensity.

Finally, the pivotal moment arrives—the kiss. As Romeo and Juliet, your characters share a tender, passionate kiss on stage. The audience holds its breath, and you spy Cregan sniffling into a tissue in the front row.

When your lips meet, time seems to slow. There’s a spark, an electric connection that goes beyond the script. The kiss lingers, and you sense something shift between you, an unspoken understanding.

As the performance comes to a close, the audience erupts into applause, and the theatre is filled with cheers and whistles. You take your bows, Helaena gripping your hand tightly, adrenaline coursing through your veins, the thrill of the performance still fresh in your mind.

• • • • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • • • •

The Targaryen twins, Baela and Rhaena, Helaena's close friends, throw a celebratory party at their house in the centre of King's Landing. The place is alive with music and laughter, students spilling into the garden and onto the balconies.

You arrive with Cregan, who promptly disappears into the crowd to try and see his own crush Jace, leaving you to navigate the throng of partygoers.

You find Helaena in the living room, surrounded by friends yet somehow separate, her presence commanding the room. She’s out of her costume now, dressed in a blue dress and a navy cardigan that accentuates her beauty.

When she sees you, her face lights up with a genuine smile. “There’s the star of the night,” she calls out, her voice carrying over the music. She holds out a bottle of Asshai beer for you to take.

You approach, feeling a rush of warmth at her words. “I think that title belongs to you.”

She laughs. “You were incredible tonight,” she says, her gaze unwavering. She takes your elbow, leading you slightly away from her friends. “That kiss… it felt real.”

You hesitate, the memory of the moment still vivid in your mind. “It did, didn’t it?”

There’s a pause, a charged silence filled with unspoken words. Around you, the party continues, but your focus remains solely on Helaena.

“Do you want to get some air?” she suggests, gesturing towards the garden.

Nodding, you follow her outside, the cool night air a welcome contrast to the heat of the party. The garden is illuminated by strings of fairy lights, casting a warm glow over the scene.

Helaena leads you to a quiet corner, away from the noise and commotion. She takes out a pack of cigarettes, offering you one. You pull out a sparkly lighter, lighting hers and yours. She nods in gratitude. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you,” she admits, her voice softer now.

Your heart races. You exhale shakily. “About the play?”

She shakes her head, a playful smile on her lips. “About us.”

There it is, the moment you’ve both been dancing around for weeks. The admission hangs in the air thickly.

“I’ve liked you for a while,” she confesses, her eyes searching yours. “I’ve always thought there was something special about you.”

Her words leave you breathless, a mix of surprise and elation flooding your senses. “I’ve felt the same way,” you admit, the truth spilling forth. “Ever since I saw you in the hallways during freshers week, I knew there was something about you that drew me in.

Helaena steps closer, her hand reaching for yours, smoke drifitng into the sky from her pink parted lips.

“What do you say we make this more than just a stage romance?” she suggests, her tone sincere.

You nod quickly, lips cracking into a smile. Helaena grins as well, the pair of you standing staring at each other goofily. She ashes out her cig, and you follow.

"Cmon," Helaena tugs your hand. "Let's go back to mine."

Helaena's room is perfectly her. Fairylights everywhere, lace curtains, the rich smell of incense in the air. You see bookshelves crammed with books, crystals, and plants. The walls are covered with posters and photographs of her with her friends.

Your gaze settled on the centrepiece of the room: a large, canopied bed draped in sheer, flowing curtains. The bed was covered in a soft, plush quilt.

Helaena released your hand and moved gracefully across the room, lighting a few candles perched on her windowsill. The warm glow illuminated her face, casting shadows that accentuated her high cheekbones and the lovely quality of her violet eyes.

Helaena reached out, her fingers lightly brushing against your cheek, her touch as gentle as the brush of silk. Slowly, almost as if testing the waters, she leaned in closer, her breath mingling with yours. With a gentle touch, she closed the distance between you, her lips meeting yours in a tender kiss. Her hands slid to the nape of your neck, pulling you deeper into the embrace.

Your hands rested on her hips, pulling her body flush against yours. The softness of her lips, the warmth of her touch, and the sweet scent of her hair all combined to create a heaven of Helaena.

Finally, after what felt like both an instant and a lifetime, you pulled back slightly.

Helaena smiled, her fingers tracing gently along your jawline. "I’ve wanted to do that for a while," she confessed, a playful glint in her eyes.

You laughed softly, a sense of pure relief washing over you. "I’m glad you did."

"Do you know how long I've wanted this? Us?" she whispers, her voice barely audible over the gentle rustle of the curtains in the breeze.

Your heart races. "I think I have an idea," you reply, your voice equally hushed. Your hand finds its way to the back of her neck, fingers tangling in her soft silver hair as you pull her to you once more, your lips meeting hers in a fervent kiss.

This time, there is no hesitation, no lingering questions—only a shared hunger to taste each other, to consume. Helaena's hands slide over your shoulders, her touch light but insistent as she presses herself against you. You feel her fingers tracing a path down your spine, her touch leaving a trail of fire in its wake, and you respond in kind, your hands exploring the curve of her waist, the softness of her skin beneath the fabric of her dress. Helaena gasps into your mouth, adding fuel to the fire that has been burning between your legs.

As the kiss intensifies, Helaena guides you backwards toward the bed, her movements graceful and sure. You lose yourself in her touch, her scent, the sound of her soft gasps as your hands roam her body.

The edge of the bed meets the backs of your legs, and you sit down, drawing her into your lap. She straddles you, her dress flowing around her like liquid, the fabric cool against your heated skin. The sensation of her thighs pressing against yours sends a jolt of pleasure through you.

Helaena breaks the kiss. Her lips are slightly swollen from the intensity of your kisses, and her breath comes in soft, ragged bursts.

"Is this okay?" she asks. You can feel the heat of her pussy through her panties. You shift, desperate to touch her.

You nod, unable to tear your gaze away from her. "More than okay," you murmur, your voice thick.

Her smile is a thing of beauty. "Good," she replies simply, before leaning in to capture your lips once more, her movements fluid, as if she knows exactly how to draw every ounce of pleasure from you. Helaena's hands roam over your shoulders and down your chest, her touch igniting every nerve ending.

You mirror her movements, your fingers trailing along the line of her jaw, down the delicate column of her neck, and across her collarbone. She shivers beneath your touch, moaning as you cup her breasts through her dress. You feel a surge of pride at how you also have an effect on her.

With a gentle tug, Helaena draws the straps of her dress from her shoulders, letting the fabric pool around her waist.

"You are so beautiful," you murmur, the words escaping you.

Helaena's cheeks flush pink, and she ducks her head slightly, clearly pleased by your compliment. To thank you, she places your hands upon her perked tits once more, begging you silently to touch her. She arches against you, her body pliant and eager.

Your hands move, exploring the gentle curves of her body, the dip of her waist, the swell of her hips, all while she responds with a fervour that matches your own. You pull off your own dress, bearing yourself to her. Helaena's eyes speak her approval, and she pushes your shoulders down to lie on top of you.

You can feel the wetness of her pussy seep through her panties, leaving dampness on your hips. You remove the delicate lace, pulling your own off too. The both of you completely nude, Helaena begins grinding her bare pussy against yours. A moan gets caught in her throat as her clit grinds down against yours. Helaena throws her silvery head back, gasping as you lean up to flick your tongue against her tits. You suck lightly, the other one being tweaked by your hands. You feel a hot warmth begin to build in your sex, and a desperation to make Helaena cum.

Helaena gropes your own tits, moaning appreciatively.

You grab her hips, flipping her over onto her back to lie against the bed. She spreads her legs, fingers grazing between her labia to show you her soaked hole. Your eyes darken at the sight, and you lower your mouth onto her sopping pussy. Helaena releases a high keening noise as you suckle her clit, pointing your tongue and flicking against her sensitive nub. You lap up her juices, tongue sliding between her folds as your fingers press into her, gently beckoning against her sweet spot, drawing out a long orgasm from your girl.

Her hips buck wildly and she grasps the pillows tight, one hand squeezing and the other tugging your hair as you relentlessly eat her pussy through her orgasm. She creams against your tongue and your eyes roll back at the sweetness.

Helaena pants, eyes glazed but determined. She yanks your hands up, lying down fully. Her hands go to grab your hips. You raise an eyebrow as you realise what she wants.

"You sure flower?" You tease. Helaena huffs, purple eyes beseeching. She nods desperately and you lower your hips down to sit upon her face.

Her tongue instantly begins suckling your clit and you delight at the feeling. Her lips are wettened with your arousal. You can't help yourself but begin to grind against Helaena's small but expert tongue. Helaena looks to be in heaven as you ride her face, hands digging into your plush hips and ass, leaving fingernail crescents as she worships your swollen clit.

You don't last long, hands gripping the headboard as you throw your head back and cry out for Helaena, cumming right on her face. You fall back, panting, as Helaena reaches for you, drawing herself close and nestling in your arms.

As you both drift off, sleepily kissing and whispering words of promise, you thank the Gods for your beloved Juliet.

• • • • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • • • •

Word Count: 2.2k

Themes: SMUT, very indulgent smut, rough p in v, praise, semi-public sex, creampie, content warning of alcohol, lots of fluffy love too

• • • • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • • • •

You've been looking forward to this trip for weeks, but now that it's finally here, you can't help but feel a twinge of anxiety. After all, you're flying to Sunspear in Dorne with a group of people who are practically strangers to you. Sure, your best friend and flatmate Rhaenyra Targaryen will be there, but her friends are a mix of old schoolmates, some of whom you've only met in passing. You know that, just like Rhaenyra, they're all unfairly cool and chic.

You’re sitting on the edge of your bed, stuffing the last of your essentials into your suitcase, when Rhaenyra bursts into the room with a vibrant energy only she possesses. Her long silver hair is tied up in a messy bun, sunglasses perched on her nose, and a grin spreads across her face.

"Are you ready for the best holiday ever?" she asks, practically bouncing on her toes. She flops onto your bed, grabbing your hot pink bikini from the bed and wiggling her eyebrows.

"As ready as I'll ever be," you reply with a giggle. "I'm just hoping I won't be the odd one out."

"Nonsense! Everyone's going to love you. Just wait until you meet them. Criston is a riot, Alicent is a sweetie, the siblings Laena and Laenor are the life of any party. Oh, and Gwayne is coming too—Alicent's brother. You remember him, right?"

Vaguely, you think. You've seen him at a couple of Rhaenyra's gatherings. Tall, handsome, with a laid-back charming demeanour that contrasts with his sister's quieter and more reserved nature. You recall his wry smile and the way he watches the room as though he's in on a joke no one else knows. There’s something about him, something you can’t quite put your finger on.

As you make your way to the airport, Rhaenyra rambles on about her plans for the week. She’s planned for days on the beach lounging in the Dornish sun and nights out on the town drinking. Your worries slowly dissolve in the anticipation of the warmth and adventure awaiting in Dorne.

• • • • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • • • •

You step out of the airport into the sultry Dornish air, feeling the sun's heat embrace you like an old friend. The group has already assembled—Criston Cole, tall and charismatic, with a smirk and brash humour; Alicent Hightower, elegant and serene, her presence calming like the ocean breeze you can already feel; Laena Velaryon, with hair as wild as the ocean, whose laughter is contagious; and her brother Laenor, who immediately makes you feel at ease with a light hug and smile.

And then there's Gwayne.

You notice him standing off to the side, leaning against the huge rental car (thank the Gods Rhaenyra is rich), a lazy smile spreading across his lips as he catches sight of you. He has an air of effortless charm, like someone who doesn't need to try too hard to make an impression—and from the way his eyes linger on you and your heart races, it's clear that he's made one on you.

“Welcome to Dorne,” he says, extending a hand to help you with your luggage. His touch is firm yet gentle, and you feel an unexpected thrill at the contact.

“Thanks,” you manage, smiling back. “It’s good to be here.”

Rhaenyra claps her hands, pulling everyone’s attention back to her. “Alright, folks! Let’s get this party started!” Criston whoops loudly, winding his arms around yours and Alicent's shoulders, walking towards the car.

• • • • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • • • •

The massive beach house you’re staying in is a dream come true. Nestled on the coast with a panoramic view of the glittering sea, it has enough room for everyone, plus some. The ocean breeze filters through the open windows, carrying with it the scent of salt and orange blossoms.

Your days quickly fall into a blissful rhythm. Each morning begins with a lazy breakfast on the terrace, the laughter and chatter of your friends setting the tone for the rest of the day. Rhaenyra is the queen of leisure, leading the group in a daily swim as soon as the sun reaches its peak.

One afternoon, as you laze under the sun, you find yourself alongside Gwayne. He's reclined on a deck chair next to you, sunglasses shielding his eyes from the sun’s glare. The two of you have drifted into a companionable silence, occasionally exchanging thoughts about the holiday.

“Do you ever feel like you belong in a place you’ve never been to before?” he asks suddenly, turning to you. The sincerity in his voice surprises you.

You nod, considering his words. “Yeah, I do. There’s something about Dorne—it's different from anywhere else.”

Gwayne smiles, his gaze thoughtful. “I think you fit here. With us.”

The words make your heart skip a beat. You hold his gaze, the air between you charged with an unspoken understanding.

• • • • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • • • •

Nighttime in Dorne is a different beast altogether. The group descends upon the local beach bars, eager to get as drunk as possible on zesty cocktails.

Criston, ever the instigator, orders round after round of drinks for the group, insisting on trying every concoction on the menu. The Valyrian Blaze cocktail is bright red, spicy, and strong enough to burn as it goes down, while the Winterfell Chill is a stark contrast, with its cool minty freshness. You yourself favour the delicious Dornish wines, the Stormlands sangria taking the cake.

You find yourself next to Gwayne again, both of you leaning against the bar, both trying a drink that seems to be some unholy blend of dragonfruit and tequila. The laughter from your friends fills the air, mixing with the sound of the waves crashing in the distance and tropical music playing in the bar.

"These are dangerous," you comment, swirling the colourful drink in your glass.

Gwayne chuckles, taking a sip from his own glass. "That's the point, isn’t it? To let loose and forget about everything for a while."

His eyes lock onto yours, and the intensity of his gaze sends a shiver down your spine.

"I suppose you're right," you reply, your voice barely above a whisper.

As the night wears on, the drinks take effect. Everyone is dancing now, the rhythmic beats of the music vibrating through the air. You join in, feeling the weight of your worries lift as you move to the rhythm, hips swaying, and sandals gliding across the floor.

At some point, Gwayne finds you on the dance floor, his movements in sync with yours. There's a magnetism between you, an undeniable pull that keeps drawing you closer. The music slows, and without missing a beat, he slips an arm around your waist, guiding you in a gentle sway.

The sun is setting as you and the group make your way back to the beach house. The day has been long, but the energy is still buzzing among your friends. As you approach the entrance, you hear Rhaenyra’s voice rise above the chatter.

"Right, everyone, it's surfing and a seafood meal out tomorrow!"

Everyone sounds out their approval, and plans are quickly made for an early morning departure. But for now, the night is still young, and you find yourself wandering the grounds outside of the beach house, needing a moment to yourself whilst the others head to bed.

Or at least you think you're alone until you hear footsteps on the sand behind you.

"Couldn't sleep?" Gwayne's voice cuts through the darkening sky, smooth and inviting. He steps into view, and even in the low light, you can see the amusement dancing in his eyes.

"Just needed some air," you admit, sighing lightly. "It's been a long day."

He nods, falling into step beside you. Wordlessly, his hand slips into yours and guides you towards the Water Gardens that lie adjacent to the beach house. Together, you walk through the gardens, the scent of jasmine and sea salt heavy in the air. There’s a tranquillity here that contrasts with the vibrant chaos of earlier, and it offers a quiet intimacy between you and Gwayne.

"These gardens are beautiful," you muse, your voice barely above a whisper.

Gwayne stops walking, turning to face you fully. "They are," he agrees, his gaze steady on yours. "But not as beautiful as you." His hand comes up to gently brush some hair from your face and rests on your blushing cheek.

The words hang between you, heavy with meaning. In the next breath, he closes the distance between you, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that is both gentle and insistent. It’s a moment that feels like it’s been building from the instant you laid eyes on each other, a culmination of unspoken desire fuelled by the Dornish summer.

Gwayne pulls you closer, deepening the kiss, and you can feel the heat radiating from him like the sun you’ve spent all day under. His hands are firm on your back, anchoring you against him in a way that feels both possessive and tender.

Before you realize it, you're backing up toward the edge of the garden where a small, secluded pool lies hidden among the lush foliage. The water shimmers under the sunset, inviting and cool.

Gwayne breaks the kiss first, his breathing uneven, eyes searching yours for permission. There’s a question in his gaze, an unspoken invitation to take this moment further.

You answer with a nod, slipping off your purple sun dress as he unclothes, and with a shared smile, the two of you slip into the water. It’s cool against your sun-warmed skin, a welcome reprieve. The coolness tingles against the building fire between your legs.

Gwayne pulls you into him again, his lips tracing a path down your neck as you wrap your arms around him. The water laps around you, creating a rhythm that matches the steady pulse of your heart. His hands explore your body with a reverence that makes you feel cherished, desired in a way that’s almost intoxicating.

Gasping lightly, you reach beneath the water to feel his cock, hard and thick in your hands. He moans against your neck, standing on the floor of the pool, pushing you up against the pool wall. You instinctively wrap your legs around him, moaning as his hardness presses against your aching pussy.

He looks at you, asking if he can continue. You nod slightly, feeling a shiver of lust as his hands grip your ass tight and his cock nudges against your slickness. He pushes inside smoothly, holding you tightly for what feels like an age as your pussy flutters around him. He murmers sweet words into your hair, caressing you, cherishing you.

"You feel divine, you look divine, my angel, let me make you feel good." Gwayne rumbles against your lips. You nod desperately, feeling so full and loved.

He thrusts against your wetness, sending the cool shimmering water rippling. Your head lolls back, lips parted, as Gwayne bestows kiss after kiss on your tender neck and collarbone as his cock pounds your pussy hard in a measured pace.

His fingers sneak between your legs to touch your clit reverently. Gwayne circles your clit delicately, and whilst you enjoy his worship, you want more.

You kiss him, hard, and bite his lip, not hard but enough to make his eyes widen.

"Gwayne," you beg. "Fuck me, please. I need you to show me how much you want me." Your pussy weeps as his hips slam harder. He leans over you, eyes ablaze and a smirk curling across his lips. You mewl helplessly.

"My angel, I'd love nothing more." He snaps his hips, rubbing your clit more urgently now. You feel the warmth of an orgasm licking inside as his teeth brand marks across your neck. Your fingernails scratch against his muscled back as Gwayne moans.

The water ripples quicker now as he fucks you hard and fast, kissing across your cheeks and nose.

"My pretty baby," he rasps. "So good for me, pussy so good for my cock. Gonna cum, gotta make you cum my angel."

You cry out in agreement, hips bucking wildly as his fingers and cock draw out a searing orgasm from you. His head falls to your shoulders as he cums, thick white cum filling up inside you.

You both stay there for a while, kissing each other softly and stroking hands through each others hair. Gwayne's eyes are shining in the moonlight as you seal your lips under the stars.

• • • • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • • • •

The next morning, the pair of you are greeted with whoops and hollers from the rest of the group as you walk into the kitchen hand in hand. You bashfully smile as Gwayne proudly kisses your cheek. Criston pats him on the back in congratulations.

"I'll make you an iced coffee." Gwayne says, pecking your lips. Laena pretends to gag but throws a cheeky smile at you.

Rhaenyra sidles up next to you, offering you a brioche, looking far too smug. You roll your eyes.

"Glad you came now?" She asks, hip bumping you. You glance over at Gwayne, who is chatting with Laenor but looking at you reverently.

"Yes I am."

• • • • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • • • •

Word Count: 1.9k

Themes: SMUT, 18+, rough oral smex, pearl necklace, sex in semi-public place

• • • • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • • • •

Owning a bar was always a dream of yours, and now that dream has finally come true. The place you purchased is a hidden gem on the artsy quarter of the city of King's Landing, nestled between eclectic shops and quirky businesses, with just enough foot traffic to guarantee interest. You’ve christened it The Alchemist’s Guild, and you hoped it'll become the hottest bar in the area soon.

Every bottle and glass has been carefully selected, and you’ve spent countless hours transforming the run-down space into a chic, cosy haven for anyone seeking to unwind. Edison bulbs hang from the ceiling, casting a warm glow over the polished wooden surfaces and plush seating. The shelves behind the bar are stocked with an impressive array of gins and wines, and the scent of fresh herbs and citrus fills the air.

The only hurdle now? Making friends with the neighbours, particularly the one who runs the music shop next door, Targaryen Tracks.

You’ve seen him a few times, Aemond Targaryen, always dressed impeccably in black, with silver hair and an ever-present scowl etched onto his face. His shop is a world of its own, filled with vintage records and obscure music that you occasionally hear through the walls.

Today, after a couple of good days of business, you decide it’s time to introduce yourself properly. Maybe you can even convince him to partner up for some musical collaborations, adding a unique touch to your bar’s atmosphere. With a deep breath, you step into Targaryen Tracks, the door chiming softly as you enter.

Aemond looks up from behind the counter, his single blue eye meeting yours with a curious, almost guarded expression. He nods in acknowledgement, though his lips barely form a smile.

"Hi, I’m Y/N," you say, offering a friendly smile. "I just opened the bar next door, The Alchemist’s Guild. Thought I’d come by and say hello."

"Aemond," he replies curtly, giving you a once-over before returning his gaze to the record he’s examining.

The shop is a paradise for any music lover, with rows upon rows of records neatly organized by genre and era. The atmosphere is nostalgic, and you can’t help but feel a pang of admiration for the meticulous care he’s put into curating his collection. You too take great pride in organisation and decoration.

You take a moment to look around, pretending to browse. The silence stretches between you, and you rack your brain for something to say, anything to break the ice.

"You’ve got quite the collection here," you venture, picking up a random record and pretending to study it. "I’ve been thinking about hosting some vinyl nights at the bar. You know, set up a record player, get some more out there stuff playing."

Aemond’s eye flickers with mild interest as he raises an eyebrow. "That so?"

You nod eagerly, hoping to engage him further. "Yeah! I think it’d be great to have something a bit more unique than just playlists. It’s a vibe, you know?"

He studies you for a moment, considering your words. "I suppose it could work," he admits, a hint of intrigue in his tone. "What kind of records are you looking to play?"

"Honestly, I’m open to anything that sets the right mood," you reply with enthusiasm. "Jazz, blues, rock, maybe even some classical if it fits."

Aemond nods, the hint of a smile playing at the corners of his lips. "I might have a few recommendations."

A spark of hope flickers inside you. Perhaps this sourpuss neighbor of yours isn’t as aloof as he seems. Maybe there's a chance for some collaboration after all.

• • • • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • • • •

Business at The Alchemist’s Guild is booming. You’ve managed to create a buzz around town, and the place is packed almost every night. The combination of exquisite drinks and the cosy atmosphere has made your bar a go-to spot for many locals and visitors alike. It's become a favourite with the artsy scene in the quarter, putting you firmly on the map.

But tonight, as you’re hosting bustling Saturday evening, disaster strikes. The trusty sound system crackles and dies with a sad whimper. Panic sets in as you realize that without music, the bar loses a significant part of its charm.

As the clamor of conversation fills the air, you frantically fiddle with the cables and speakers, hoping for a miracle. But nothing works.

Just when you're about to lose hope, an idea strikes.

"Hold down the fort for me, Dyana!" You call out to the bartender you employed.

You dash out of the bar and head straight to Targaryen Tracks, where Aemond is about to close up for the night.

Aemond looks up at you as you barge into the shop, mildly surprised to see you so flustered.

"Aemond, I need a huge favour," you blurt out, trying to catch your breath. "My sound system just broke down, and I have a packed bar with no music. Can you help me out?"

He pauses. "What do you need?"

"Your records," you say quickly, hope rising in your chest. "And your record player and speakers. Just for tonight. I’ll give you free drinks for a week in return."

He narrows his eye, contemplating the offer. After a moment, he nods. "Fine. But you handle the equipment with care."

Relief floods through you. "Thank you, thank you so much! I promise I'll be careful. You can even handle changing the records if that's better. "

Together, you gather a selection of records, and Aemond helps you carry them over to the bar. With his expertise, you set up the record player, and soon, the rich, warm tones of vinyl fill the space, transforming the atmosphere instantly.

The patrons love it, and you can feel the tension leaving your shoulders as the night goes on smoothly. True to your word, you offer Aemond a drink on the house as a gesture of gratitude. He graciously accepts your Greyjoy Gin and tonic with a small smile.

• • • • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • • • •

As the night draws to a close, the last of your customers finally trickle out, leaving the bar empty save for you and Aemond. The soft glow of the Edison bulbs casts a cosy light over the room, and the record player softly spins its last tune.

"Thank you again," you say, leaning against the bar, feeling the exhaustion of the night catching up to you. "You really saved me tonight."

Aemond shrugs, a faint smirk on his lips. "It was interesting. Your patrons seem to appreciate good music."

You laugh softly, nodding in agreement. "I owe you. Seriously, free drinks for a week."

He takes a sip of his drink, regarding you with an appraising gaze. "Maybe we can make this a regular thing. Vinyl nights, as you said. I can curate the music."

"That would be amazing," you reply, feeling your heart race a little. "I think it’d be a hit."

As you tidy up the bar, Aemond helps, and the two of you chat more easily than before. You discover that beneath his stoic exterior, he has a genuine passion for music and a dry sense of humour that you find surprisingly charming.

With the bar finally clean and ready for the next day, you both take a moment to relax, leaning against the counter again.

As the last record winds down to silence, an unexpected tension fills the air. The kind that lingers between two people until someone is brave enough to try.

It’s Aemond who makes the first move. His eye locks onto yours, and you see a flicker of something you hadn't quite noticed before. You feel your body light up.

Before you know it, he’s closing the distance between you, his presence commanding and electric. He pauses, giving you a moment to stop him if you wish, but you find yourself drawn in by the intensity of his gaze.

And then his lips are on yours, firm and insistent, sending a jolt down your spine. You kiss him back, matching his fervour with your own.

Aemond’s hands are on your waist, pulling you closer, and you respond by wrapping your arms around his neck, grasping at his hair. His mouth is hot and heady, and you moan into his as his hips grind against yours.

You barely notice as you’re backed against the bar, the cool surface a stark contrast to the heat of the kiss. Aemond’s hands are exploring now, tracing a path down your sides, and you let out a soft sigh of approval, urging him on.

The kiss deepens, his touch is confident, and you can feel the hardness of his cock against your tender pussy. Your body reacts, arching into him to relieve your aching sex.

Aemond unzips your trousers, moaning at how wet you are, before gliding his fingers into your soaked heat. You cling to him, mewling, and bit down hard onto his neck. Aemond’s long fingers move inside you, fingering you with a beckoning motion. His eye rolls back as you grasp his cock in your hand, massaging through his trousers.

Aemond hoists you up onto the bar's counter, kissing you roughly before kneeling, facing your soaked pussy. Your hands grip his hair, urging him onto your heat. His tongue flicks out to lick your juices, and the moan you let out spurs him to bury his face.

His long nose is shoved against your clit, rubbing you in the mot perfect way as his tongue laps you expertly. Your thighs squeeze his head tightly. One of his hands grips your soft thigh hard, the other resumes its ministrations inside your tight pussy, making you choke and feel the hot lick of pleasure push you higher and higher. You grind against his face, Aemond sucking your clit with suchbvigour that you cry out, cumming hard on him. You cream against his tongue, and he laps it all up with a deep moan.

Once your head has stopped swimming at the pleasure of your high, you wobble down and fall to your knees. His thick cock sits right in front of your face, and he slowly parts your lips with the red cockhead. It's huge, you run out of mouth room pretty quickly as his hands grip your hair. You moan, the vibration making his hips stutter, and begin to suck him hard.

"Your lips look so beautiful wrapped arouud me baby," he rasps out. "I'll cum if you carry on."

Enthused, you bob your head faster, hollowing out your cheeks and rubbing your tongue right against the slit of his tip. When you fondle his balls with your hands and swallow hard, Aemond releases a strangled cry of pleasure, face-fucking you hard and fast. He lets out an unintelligible moan as he cums. Some of it leaks down your throat, but he pulls out to cum all over your face and neck. You gasp at the hot white ropes of cum that decorate your collar bone.

Panting, he helps you up, swiping his cum off with a finger and parting your lips for you to swallow it. He kisses you gently, salty and sweet.

"Want to come back to mine?" He asks, eye glinting. You nod eagerly, kissing him sweetly. His hands hold you firmly, and you thank the Gods for your sound system breaking.

• • • • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • • • •

Word Count: 2.1k

Themes: SMUT, 18+, alcohol consumption, cigarettes, older man x younger woman, spanking, p in v, domination kink, praise, hair pulling kink, creampie

• • • • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • • • •

When your number 1 bestie (he'd gut you if you said otherwise) Aegon Targaryen first invited you to spend the summer with him at Dragonstone Manor, you were skeptical. Aegon was your best friend, a proper party freak like you, always up for a good time. He'd been there through everything, every shitty breakup, every hangover nursed with a takeaway.

You were the hottest students at Blackwater University and by Gods did you two know it.

Spending a summer with Aegon promised excitement, but there was something about leaving the familiar chaos of city life for the unknown allure of his ancestral home of Dragonstone that made you pause.

Yet, here you were, standing at the grand entrance of Dragonstone Manor, gazing at its ancient stone walls that seemed to tower into the sky, trying not to throw up from nerves. You could handle a rave, but meeting family was a different story.

Aegon bounded up the steps ahead of you, his platinum hair shining in the sunlight, and pushed open the large oak doors. You thanked the Gods he was chiller than you were right now.

"Welcome to Dragonstone, babe," he declared with a cheeky grin. "The place is a bit stuffy, but it grows on you. Wait till you meet my family. They're gonna love you."

The manor was as grand inside as you had imagined, with its sprawling hallways and majestic portraits lining the walls. You were introduced to Aegon’s mother, Alicent, who pecked both of your cheeks rather formally. You already knew Aemond from several nights out, and Daeron and Helaena seemed intrigued by the idea of Aegon’s infamous friend joining them for the summer.

But it was Gwayne Hightower, Alicent's brother, Aegon’s uncle, who caught your attention more than anyone else. He stood slightly behind the crowd in the hallway.

Tall, impeccably dressed, with an air of authority that made everyone around him stand a little straighter, Gwayne was dashingly handsome in a classic sort of way. His eyes seemed to appraise you with a besmused curiosity, and you felt slightly tingly under his heavy gaze.

“Ah, so you’re the famous companion we’ve heard so much about,” he said, his voice smooth and rich, like a well-aged whiskey. You crumbled inside a bit. Older men were your weakness.

You flashed a winning smile, suddenly aware of the heat creeping up your neck. “And you must be the uncle Aegon's been warning me about.”

His lips twitched with a smirk, his gaze never wavering. “I assure you, the stories are greatly exaggerated.”

The days at Dragonstone slipped by in a haze of sunlit afternoons spent in the pool, endless nights drinking the finest of wines and sampling Aemond's cigar collection. Aegon was right—his family was incredible, and it wasn’t long before you felt like you belonged. Gwayne, however, remained a mystery to you. He was always polite, always courteous, but there was an edge to his interactions with you that you couldn't quite place.

Your mind often wandered to him, especially during those long, lazy evenings where you’d find him reclining in a leather armchair in the manor’s library, a book in one hand, a glass of some expensive amber liquid in the other. He seemed amused by your antics with Aegon, his eyes glinting with a knowing that left you rather flustered.

One particularly sultry evening, Aegon suggested a trip to Dragonstone nightclub, a renowned hotspot in the manor's adjacent town.

“You up for it?” Aegon asked, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

You grinned. “Always.”

Sneaking out of the manor was no small feat, but you and Aegon were experts at slipping past watchful eyes. The club was everything you expected and more—loud music, pulsating lights, and a throng of people moving in rhythm to the DJ’s beats. You lost yourselves to the night, wrapped up in the freedom that only a place like this could offer. You kept it light on the drinking but indulged in wandering the streets at night, arm in arm with Aegon, cigarette dangling from your lips.

But as the hours passed and Aegon started yawning, then you both knew it was time to head back. Aegon, ever the responsible one when it came to these outings, guided you back to the manor with a practised stealth.

You giggled softly as you crept through the darkened halls, your heart racing not from fear of getting caught but from the thrill of it all. Yet, as you turned a corner, you stopped short. Standing at the end of the hallway, arms crossed, and gaze piercing, was Gwayne.

Next to him stood Alicent, looking less than amused. Her eyes softened when they landed on Aegon, a hint of disappointment mingling with fondness.

“Aegon,” she sighed, “we’ve talked about this.”

Aegon rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “Sorry, mummy.” He glanced at you with a helpless smile. You smiled reassuringly back.

With a firm hand, she steered him away, leaving you alone with Gwayne. You stood there, feeling like a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

Gwayne watched you, his expression unreadable, though there was a gleam in his eyes that spoke volumes. He moved forward slowly, shoes clicking on the floor. You felt your heart rate speed up a tad.

“Looks like you’re not as elusive as you thought,” he said, a hint of amusement in his tone.

You shrugged, trying to muster up some semblance of nonchalance. “Guess we got a bit carried away.”

He stepped closer, the warmth of his presence enveloping you, sending a shiver of anticipation down your spine. There was something different about him now, something that promised a departure from the composed exterior he usually presented.

“Carried away indeed,” he mused, his gaze fixed intently on you. His voice was so deep and firm that you felt yourself shiver with need. “And just what... do you suppose we do about that?"

You swallowed, the playful bravado you had so easily maintained with Aegon slipping away in the face of Gwayne’s intensity. The air between you crackled with an unspoken tension, a magnetic pull that left you breathless.

“I suppose,” you started, your voice a touch unsteady, “a punishment is in order?”

A slow, delighted smile spread across his face, one that promised danger. He nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. “I’d say that’s fair.”

Without another word, he grasped your hand hard, and he led you through the dimly lit halls to his study, a room you had only glimpsed from afar. The door clicked shut behind you, the sound echoing like a heartbeat in the silence.

He moved closer, the rich scent of his cologne mingling with the aged aroma of whiskey, a heady combination that made you feel lightheaded.

“You’re quite the little rebel, aren’t you?” he remarked, hands reaching up to rest on your shoulders.

You met his gaze, a challenge sparking within you. “Only when I have a reason to be.”

He chuckled, a low, indulgent sound that reverberated through you. “And tonight? Was it worth it?”

Every part of you screamed yes, your pussy thrumming with want and your body aching to be touched. You nodded, unable to trust your voice, knowing full well that he could read you like a book.

Gwayne moved fluidly, almost predatory, closing the distance between you with deliberate intent, lips finding yours swiftly. Your knees weakened at his domineering kiss. He reached out, his fingers brushing against your cheek, tracing a path down to your jaw.

“You’ve been quite the distraction since you arrived,” he confessed, his voice a low rumble that rasied goosebumps across your skin.

His touch was electrifying. You leaned into it, admitting silently that you felt the same pull, the same allure that had drawn you to him from the start.

“Distraction?” you managed, the word a whisper in the charged air.

“Indeed,” he replied, his thumb brushing lightly across your bottom lip. “One I find myself increasingly unwilling to ignore.”

He kissed you again then, a sudden, searing press of lips that left you gasping and wanting more. His hands found your waist, pulling you closer as you responded with equal fervour, the world around you fading as the kiss deepened, igniting a fire within that had been smouldering since your first encounter. You moaned helplessly into his hot mouth, and he laughed.

His lips trailed a path down your neck, each kiss a brand that marked you as his. You arched against him, a soft moan escaping your lips as he nipped at the sensitive skin, his hands exploring with a confidence that left you breathless. He bit down onto your tender skin and you felt tears welling at your desperation.

"Please!" You gasped. "Touch me!" He clicked his tongue.

"Patience, girl. You've been so naughty, do you think you deserve my cock?" His words sent your cheeks flaming. He was obviously amused at your wordless arousal. He gripped you tight and walked you over to his armchair. He sat down , leaving you to stand in between his legs, shaking slightly. He rubbed your thighs, as if you calm you

"Now, my girl," he said softly but firmly. "You said you needed a punishment. Lie down across my legs with that delicious ass in the air." Your eyes widened, and you followed his command without question.

He lifted up your skirt and pulled down your panties, making a noise of approval as you mewled for attention. Hands kneaded your ass, and you could feel the hardness of his cock press into your stomach.

Before you could open your mouth, he spanked you hard, making you lurch slightly and cry out. His hands smoothed over the reddened skin.

"Naughty girl. Do you know how much I've had to restrain myself? Seeing you prance around these halls with those gorgeous tits and your short skirts? How many times I've imagined how that pretty face would look as I made you cum?" He rumbled, striking your ass again. You could feel the sharp tingle of a bruise and the wetness between your thighs.

"Gwayne!" You cried out, hands gripping the armchair. "Please, please, I'm sorry for being a bad girl. I'll be good for you, I promise!"

Gwayne tutted in agreement, sliding a finger through your soaked pussy lips. You kneened at the touch, begging for more.

"Oh you little thing," he sighed heavily with lust. "I'll make you all mine, my good girl."

He lifted you up, helping you walk with wobbly legs over to his desk. You gave no resistance as he bent you over, shucking your top off and unzipping his trousers. He leant down, pressing himself against your back. You felt his hot, lengthy cock press between your asscheeks.

He grasped your jaw, turning your head to kiss you aggressively. You moaned, grinding your ass back to him.

"So eager, such a good girl." He gasped out, nudging his cock into your soaked pussy. A hand reached down to circle your clit as he thrusted into you. Both of you moaned at how good it felt. Gwayne seemed struck by how tight your pussy squeezed his cock, so warm and wet. You felt fuller than ever, feeling his heavy balls slap against your pussy as he fucked you.

Gwayne’s other hand was pressed against the small of your back, watching how your ass shook as he fucked you hard and fast. He reached up, twisting your hair in his fist and pulling, not enough to hurt but enough to make your pussy blaze. You arched your back, mouth open in a silent moan, feeling his cock rut against your sweet insides. His breath was hot and heavy on your neck. Gwayne bit onto your neck, your hands scratching the oak of the desk as you felt your orgasm rise up in your battered pussy.

"Cum for me, my good girl," he rasped. "Cum for me and I'll give you a reward. I'll fill up that little pussy the way you want, little slut." You mewled, his finger insistent on your clit. Without warning, Gwayne ripped an orgasm from you, making your pussy squeeze him in an anaconda like grip as he gasped. He moaned loudly, thrusting in fully to cum, filling up your pussy with white hot cum. He collapsed on top of you, panting, as your head swam with pleasure.

Gwayne managed to right himself up, pulling you into his arms. He held you for a very long time, kissing you gently and softly praising you.

Gwayne watched you, his gaze soft yet intense, as if memorising every detail. His fingers brushed idly against your cheek.

“Well,” he murmured, a teasing smile playing on his lips, “consider your punishment complete.”

You laughed softly. “If that’s what punishment feels like, I might have to misbehave more often.”

• • • • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • • • •

Word Count: 2.2k

Themes: smuuut, 18+, rough p in v, dacryphilia, creampie, alcohol consumption, lots of fluff tho!

Reader is implied to be vaguely (the extent is up to u ofc) punk with nipple piercings - drawn from personal experience ;)

• • • • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • • • •

The stale coffee aroma clung to the corners of your favourite neighbourhood café as you scrolled through FB Marketplace, halfheartedly browsing for a bass guitar that wouldn’t cost you an arm and a leg. After learning the basics on the cheap, battered bass you found at a charity shop last month, you finally decided it was time for an upgrade. FB was usually full of shit you lamented internally, sipping a hot mocha in Celtigar Coffee.

Amid the endless sea of overpriced instruments, you stumbled upon a sleek black bass with a gloss finish that caught your eye immediately. You smiled, smitten, at the sight of a black cat next to the bass. The listing promised it had “good vibes and great sound,” and judging by the photos, it looked like it had been well cared for. Alas, the cat wasn't for sale. You clicked on the seller’s profile, and your interest piqued even more.

Aemond Targaryen was his name. His profile picture revealed a strikingly handsome young man, heavily tattooed, with one icy-blue eye that seemed to stare right through the screen and a black leather eyepatch covering the other eye. He was effortlessly cool and goth: black leather jacket, piercings, and a smirk that screamed confidence. Against your better judgment (curse your friend Dyana for scaring you with stranger danger), you shot him a message expressing interest in the bass. Within minutes, he replied.

• • • • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • • • •

You took a deep breath as you stood outside Aemond’s apartment complex, the cash for the bass tucked safely in your wallet. The building was impressive: old brick, with ivy climbing up its sides, slightly crumbly but in a chic antique way. Your heart thrummed with a mix of anticipation and anxiety. You’d always heard horror stories about buying things off the internet, but you needed a sick bass, and Aemond seemed cool enough. You tried to dissuade the lick of warmth you felt inside when you glanced at his picture again.

After a short elevator ride and a quick knock, the door swung open, revealing Aemond in the flesh. He was even more striking in person, his silver hair contrasting sharply against his black jeans and t-shirt. Traditional style tattoos snaked down his arms, disappearing beneath the sleeves of his shirt. You swallowed thickly at his heavily muscled arms that flexed as he held the door.

“You must be (Y/N),” he said, his voice smooth and inviting. “Come on in.”

The apartment was exactly what you’d expect from someone like Aemond. Dark and moody, with walls adorned in gothic artwork and grungy band posters. A state-of-the-art sound system took up one corner, and an impressive collection of vinyl records lined a bookshelf.

“Wow, this place is... awesome,” you said, trying to play it cool as you looked around.

“Thanks. I like to keep things interesting,” Aemond replied with a small grin. “The bass is over here.”

He led you to a stand where the sleek black bass rested next to three more basses and guitars. Up close, it was even more beautiful than in the pictures. You ran your fingers along its neck, feeling the smoothness of the wood. The craftsmanship was exquisite, and you could already imagine the kind of sound it would produce.

“Go ahead, give it a try,” Aemond encouraged, handing you a cable to plug into the amp nearby.

You slung the strap over your shoulder, letting the bass rest against your body. As you played a few notes, the room filled with a deep, rich sound that resonated perfectly. It felt right—like this bass was meant for you. You grinned at Aemond who clapped lightly.

“You’ve got a good ear,” Aemond said, watching you play. “Most people can’t appreciate quality like this.”

“Thanks,” you replied, feeling a rush of satisfaction at his compliment. “I’ll take it.”

You were interrupted by a loud meow. Looking down, a black cat with big moon-like eyes was staring up at you, nose twitching.

"This is Vhagar," Aemond scooped up the kitty and gave her a head kiss. Vhagar meowed approvingly. You reached out to give her a pet and she purred. Aemond seemed extremely pleased at Vhagar's apparent approval of you.

Distracted by the fluffy cutie, you handed over the cash once Aemond had put Vhagar down, and Aemond carefully counted it before nodding. As you packed the bass into its case, he surprised you with a question.

“So, what are your plans for tonight?” he asked, casually leaning against the wall, his gaze fixed on you. You noticed he swallowed hard after he asked.

You blinked, caught off guard. “Uh, not much. Why?”

“There’s this club, The Dragon Pit. It’s got a decent alternative scene. Thought you might want to check it out.” You flushed at the surprise. You'd heard of The Dragon Pit. It was pretty legendary in King's Landing.

The offer was unexpected, but there was something undeniably intriguing about him. You’d come here for a bass and found yourself tempted by the idea of a night out with a stranger who seemed anything but ordinary.

“Alright, sure,” you agreed, trying to hide your excitement. “I could use a good night out.”

• • • • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • • • •

The Dragon Pit was everything Aemond had promised and more. A former warehouse turned music venue, it thrummed with energy as local bands played their hearts out on stage. The crowd was a mix of goths, punks, and metalheads, each in their element, dancing and drinking heavily.

Aemond had secured a prime spot near the stage, and you found yourself getting lost in the music with him. The bassline pulsed through the air, vibrating deep in your chest. It was easy to lose yourself in the rhythm, the heavy riffs drowning out any lingering doubts you’d had earlier. You both sang along and danced together, grasping each others hands and laughing breathlessly, buzzed from several bottles of Asshai beer.

“I didn’t peg you for a punk, thought you'd be a pure goth,” you said, leaning closer to Aemond so he could hear you over the music.

He shrugged, his eyes glinting mischievously. “I’m full of surprises.”

As the night wore on, drinks flowed freely, and the initial awkwardness from his flat between you dissolved into easy conversation and laughter. Aemond’s charm was magnetic, his wit sharp and engaging. You learned that he was a musician himself, dabbling in various instruments and playing in a band called Valyrian Steel with his brothers, sister and their friend that occasionally headlined at the club.

As the band played its final song, the adrenaline of the night combined with the alcohol in your system left you feeling bold. You caught Aemond’s gaze, the charged atmosphere between you undeniable. He leaned in, brushing a strand of hair away from your face, his touch sending shivers down your spine. You melted into his manly hands that held your cheeks.

“Do you want to get out of here?” he asked, his voice low and inviting.

Your heart raced at the implication, but you didn’t hesitate. “Yeah, let’s go.

• • • • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • • • •

Back at Aemond’s apartment, the air was thick and heavy. Your heart thrummed harder than the music you'd been listening to. The door barely closed behind you before you found yourself against it, Aemond’s lips crashing onto yours. His kiss was electric, filled with urgency and passion, as if he’d been waiting all night to do this.

You melted into him, your hands finding their way to his hair as he deepened the kiss. His hands roamed over your back, pulling you closer, leaving no space between you.

Your pussy ignited at his deepened kiss, feeling his hands massage your ass and pull you closer to him. You gasped as he cocked his muscled thigh between your legs, pressing against your tender pussy. You rocked yourself onto him, sparks electrifying your sex.

“Bedroom?” you whispered between kisses, your voice barely more than a breathless plea.

He pulled back slightly, his eyes dark with want. “This way.”

He led you down a dimly lit hallway to his bedroom, where candles flickered, casting soft shadows across the walls. The bed was invitingly unmade, the sheets black, of course, as if it had been waiting for this moment.

Aemond’s touch was gentle yet insistent as he guided you to the bed, his fingers deftly removing your shirt and jeans before he captured your lips again. You reciprocated, helping him out of his jacket and shirt, revealing more of the intricate tattoos that covered his body. He'd kicked off his boots long ago, and stood naked before you, appreciating your nearly nude form with eager hands.

You traced your fingers over the ink. He shivered under your touch, a soft groan escaping him as he pressed against you, guiding you back onto the bed.

He snapped your lacy red bra off at the back. You thanked the Gods you'd worn nice underwear today. His eyebrows raised high at the sight of your pierced nipples, cute little silver bars through them.

"Aren't you full of surprises, little slut," his voice was dark and warm. You gasped at the name, flushing, pussy slick. He flicked his tongue over your perked tits, grinding his hardened cock against your thigh.

You reached down to grasp him, earning a strangled type of whimper from Aemond. He bit down hard on your neck as you tugged him, using his precum to lube up your hand.

"Gods, Aemond, touch me, please!" You begged breathlessly. He laughed richly, pulling down your panties, and lowered his head to your delicious heat.

Your eyes rolled back to your head as his firm and pointed tongue lapped up your juices, sucking insistently on your needy clit. He rutted his hips against the bed, neck flushing as his arousal became uncontrollable. You were lost in the pleasure, wound up from hours of dancing and eye-fucking Aemond. Tears welled up in your eyes as how brutally good it felt to have Aemond between your legs, eating your pussy like it was his last meal. He moaned darkly at the sight of your wet eyes, newfound vigour making you lurch up into sitting and clench your thighs around his skull.

"Aemond! Oh!" You cried out, feeling a hot orgasm blossom inside. The warm fire licked your pussy, legs shaking and Aemond gently supped your cream as you came down from the high.

The orgasm did nothing to abate your lust for him. Your pussy felt painfully empty, and you stared at his long, thick cock as he nudged your pussy lips open.

"Ready, my girl?" He asked, breathless. You nodded, eyes wide, throwing your head back as he thrusted in, stretching you as your mouth fell open in a soundless moan.

Aemond was relentless, pounding you hard and fast, deeply reaching the sweetest spot inside your pussy. He swiped your tears of pleasure away, grinning through pants, and hoisted your legs up over his shoulders.

You drooled over his toned abs and pecs, scratching your nails into his muscles as he kneaded your tits leisurely. His hips snapped up in the most perfect way. Leaning a hand down, he rubbed your clit urgently.

"I'm on birth control!" You gasped out, suddenly remembering. Aemond's eye was fired up, throwing his head back and grinning down at you.

"Oh, my girl, I'm going to fill you up, make you feel so good. No other cock can make this little tight pussy feel so good." He rasped. You nodded, whimpering, feeling that unstoppable heat crawl up in your pussy again.

Mewling desperately and digging your nails into his arms, you orgasmed hard on his cock, squirting over his balls and feeling weightless as the pleasure took over your body. Aemond moaned at how you squeezed him, cumming hard and filling your pussy up with ropes of hot, thick cum. Your pussy felt thoroughly fucked and stuffed full of cream. He collapsed on top of you.

You both lay panting for what felt like forever.

Aemond gingerly got up to clean the pair of you, then nestled back under the cover, clutching you tightly in his thick arms.

• • • • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • • • •

As dawn crept through the windows, you found yourself rested against him, your head lying on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. The realization that you’d spent the night with a pretty much stranger didn’t feel as daunting as you’d expected. Instead, it felt oddly comforting.

“You know,” Aemond murmured, breaking the comfortable silence, “I had a really good time last night.”

You smiled against his skin, feeling a sense of contentment you hadn’t anticipated. “Guess we’re a good match then.”

He chuckled softly, his fingers trailing lazily along your arm. “I’d say so," he looked into your eyes. "Want to grab breakfast with me?

• • • • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • • • •

Word Count: 2.5k

Themes: SMUT, 18+, threesome, p in v, oral, eiffel towering, cum eating, alcohol consumption, cigarettes

also just imagine cregan in the pics has dark hair ahah

• • • • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • • • •

The hot July night is thick with the mingled sounds of the party—a seamless mix of bass-heavy music, laughter, and shouts cutting the air. You feel the vibrations through the floor as you push your way through the crowded living room of Rhaena and Baela’s apartment. They live in a swanky flat in the city centre of King's Landing. It's their birthday, and, as usual, they’ve gone all out. Neon lights bounce off the walls, casting a colourful glow that makes everything feel both surreal and electrifying.

You'd worn your favourite sexy black top and bootcut jeans, making your ass look fantastic, as your flatmate Dyana had so kindly informed you. Bangles jingling, you make your way toward the makeshift bar in the corner, your eyes scanning the throngs of people dancing and talking, searching for a familiar face. Finally, you spot her—Helaena, your best friend, is lounging on a couch, deep in conversation with a couple of guys from her art class, while sipping a bottle of Asshai beer. She waves at you enthusiastically, a smile stretching across her face.

“Hey, you made it!” Helaena shouts over the music, wrapping you in a quick hug. She smells like lavender and vodka, wearing a blue skater dress, a familiar and comforting combination. “I was starting to think you’d bail on me.”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” you reply, your voice barely audible over the thumping beats. You lean in closer. “This place is insane.”

Helaena laughs, nodding in agreement. “You should go say hi to Rhaena and Baela later. They’re out on the balcony, holding court as usual.”

As you nod, you can’t help but feel a little out of place, surrounded by people who seem to know exactly where they fit in this chaotic scene. You were a bit of a party animal too with Helaena, but the party here was madness. You grab a drink from the bar—something pink and fruity that burns just enough to remind you of its potency—and take a long sip, letting the alcohol warm you from the inside.

You seek out Baela and Rhaena. Both of them look divine in gold shimmery tops. They scream a little with excitement when you see them and hand some sourz shots for the three of you to do together.

After, you’ve been chatting with Helaena for a while, legs crossing over eachothers as you lounge on some chairs, when your attention is caught by two guys approaching. Even in the dim light, they stand out: one tall and dark-haired with broad shoulders, the other with brown curls, high cheekbones, and a rougish smile. They're both stunning in that unfairly effortlessly cool way that makes your heart skip a beat.

“Hey, Hel,” the first one says with an easy smile. His eyes flick to you, holding your gaze a moment longer than polite. “Who’s your friend?”

Helaena grins, ever the mischievous meddler. “This is Y/N,” she says, gesturing toward you. “Y/N, meet Cregan Stark and Jacaerys Velaryon. They’re Baela’s best mates from uni. You guys both study politics and history with her, right?"

Cregan gives you a nod, his smile widening into something warmer, while Jacaerys offers you his hand to shake. “Nice to meet you, Y/N,” he says, his voice a low, pleasant rumble.

The conversation flows easily, the four of you finding common ground in shared interests and mutual acquaintances. Cregan regales you all about his recent backpacking trip through the Highlands, the beautiful scenery and his close scrapes with the law, while Jacaerys leans closer, drawing you into a discussion about your favorite bars and places in King's Landing. You find yourself laughing more than you have in weeks, the tension you carried into the party slowly melting away.

As the night deepens and Helaena ends up sneaking off with a mysterious girl named Sara who Cregan knows, the three of you drift outside to the balcony, the cool air a welcome relief from the heat inside. You lean against the railing, the city sprawled out before you while Cregan sparks up a cigarette for you. Below, the streetlights flicker like stars, the hum of traffic a distant lullaby.

“So, what do you think of the party?” Cregan asks, his voice low and inviting.

“It’s amazing,” you admit, taking a sip of your drink that Jace had grabbed for you, a Starfall Screwdriver. “You two must be close with Rhaena and Baela.”

“Yeah, we’ve known them forever,” Jacaerys replies, brushing a stray lock of hair from his face. His gaze is steady, intent. “They throw the best parties.”

You nod, feeling the warmth of their attention settle over you like a physical presence. There’s something about the way they look at you—like they’re seeing you, really seeing you—and it makes your heart race in a way you can’t quite explain. You aren't blind to their eyes and where they're looking.

“So, Y/N,” Cregan begins, a playful glint in his eye. His arm rests on your shoulder after taking a drag. “What’s your deal? You seeing anyone?”

The question catches you off guard, your mind scrambling for a response. You hesitate, unsure of what to say. The truth is, your love life has been a series of near misses and almosts, leaving you jaded at a young age.

“Not really,” you finally reply, your voice steady despite the flutter in your chest. “I’ve been kind of focused on other things lately.”

Jacaerys leans closer, his expression thoughtful. “Like what?” His hand brushes your thigh, and you clench slightly. Cregan smirks, and Jace takes a long drink of his beer.

“Like work, mostly,” you say with a shrug, feeling suddenly self-conscious under their scrutiny. “And, you know, just figuring things out.”

Cregan exchanges a glance with Jacaerys, something unspoken passing between them. You feel a twinge of curiosity, wondering what they’re thinking.

“What about you two?” you ask, shifting the focus away from yourself. “Any girlfriends I should be worried about?”

Jacaerys chuckles, shaking his head. “Nah, we’re both single. We're too busy having fun, I guess.”

“Though we do have something in mind tonight,” Cregan adds, his tone teasing, almost conspiratorial.

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued. “Oh? What’s that?” Jace looks amused at your obliviousness.

Cregan and Jacaerys exchange another look, this one filled with a kind of mischievous energy that makes your skin tingle with anticipation. You have the distinct feeling that whatever they’re about to say will lead to a very interesting night.

“Well,” Jacaerys says slowly, his eyes locked onto yours, “we were actually wondering if you’d be interested in something…a little different tonight.”

Your heart skips a beat, the possibilities flashing through your mind. You find yourself leaning in, caught in their magnetic pull.

“What do you have in mind?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

Cregan’s smile is all charm and challenge. “A threesome,” he says simply. “You, me, and Jace.”

You blink, your mind momentarily short-circuiting at the proposition. Of all the things you’d imagined, this wasn’t one of them. And yet, the idea sends a thrill coursing through you, igniting something bold and adventurous that you didn’t quite realize was there.

“I—” You start, then pause, choosing your words carefully. “I’ve never done anything like that before.”

Jacaerys steps closer, his presence enveloping you like a warm, inviting shadow. “No pressure,” he says, his voice gentle but edged with excitement. “But we think you’re amazing. And we’d love to spend the night making you feel that way.”

Your pulse quickens at his words, the heat between you three palpable and undeniable. You consider their offer. They're both hot, both your type, and they both fancy you. The decision weighs on your mind, and yet, somewhere beneath the surface, you know exactly what you want.

Taking a deep breath, you meet their expectant gazes, a slow smile spreading across your lips. You down your drink. “Alright,” you say, your heart racing with anticipation. “Let’s do it.” They both smile, and their grip on you becomes a tad tighter.

“Great,” Cregan says. “How about we head back to ours? We live in a flat just a couple of minutes away.”

You nod, feeling a heady mix of nerves and thrill. As you follow them through the party, weaving through the throngs of people and neon-lit haze, you feel your heart and pussy begin to thrum.

• • • • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • • • •

The ride to their apartment is a blur of laughter and anticipation, the city lights streaking past like shooting stars. You sit between them in the backseat of the cab, your legs brushing against theirs, the proximity sending shivers up your spine. Cregan brushes your neck lightly with his knuckles, and you tense when Jace's hands move upwards from your knee to your inner thigh. Feeling both of their mouths so close to you, their hot breath and their longing, heated gazes makes your pussy clench, excited.

When you finally arrive, the apartment is everything you imagined—a stylish blend of modern and cosy, the kind of place that feels lived in and loved. As soon as the door closes behind you, Jacaerys presses you against the wall, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that’s all fire and passion. You melt into him, his hands gripping your shoulders tight and keeping you upright.

Cregan’s hands find your waist, pulling you from the wall and sandwiching himself behind you, his touch firm and grounding as he leans in to whisper in your ear. “You alright?” he asks, his voice a low murmur that sends shivers down your spine. You can feel his hardness press into your ass from behind. You kick off your shoes and let Cregan pull your jeans down.

You nod, your breath hitching as Jacaerys trails kisses down your neck, his hands deftly unzipping his jeans. “More than alright,” you manage to say, the words a breathless promise. Jace rubs your thighs with his heavy hands and Cregan gropes your tits, pulling his shirt over his head.

You each undress, hands reaching out when not removing clothes to grasp at each other and kiss hotly, all tongues. You're not sure who you're kissing or who's kneading your ass when they guide you toward the bedroom.

Pushing you gently onto the bed, Jace turns to Cregan and kisses him, Cregan moaning lightly at the touch. Your pussy explodes ablaze at the sight, whimpering as the pair advance on you like wolves.

Cregan yanks your legs towards him, opening them and sighing at the sight.

"Oh, Jace, look at her," he smirks. "Already soaking wet and we haven't even started."

Jacaerys laughs lightly, kneeling besides your body as Cregan swipes a finger through your pussy slick. That draws a hot moan from your parted lips.

"Will you be good and let Cregan look after you?" Jacaerys asks, your eyes glued to his hardened cock that brushes against your tits as he leans down. You nod, moaning as he kisses you, and places your hand on his cock to stroke it.

Cregan takes his cue and sinks his mouth down onto your heat. You whimper loudly as he softly licks up your slick and begins sucking lightly on your aching clit. Encouraged by your reaction, he eats your pussy more fervently, devouring any juices and engufling your labia in his hot mouth.

Jace moans as you stroke his cock, Cregan watching the sight from between your legs. You reach down with your other hand to grasp Cregan's dark hair, pulling slightly. His eyes roll back and you notice his hand is between his legs, jerking his huge cock at the sight of you and Jace.

It's too much for you. You feel like you'll explode. Jacaerys grabs your tits and tweaks your tender nipples, and you moan, arching your back and feeling the start of an orgasm creep up on you.

"Come on Princess," Jace gasps. "Cum for us." He spills a thick white rope of cum over your tits. Cregan, eyes wide, eats your pussy with such vigour that he yanks an orgasm from you, and you howl as you cum. He jerks himself as he cums on your thighs.

Panting, you watch as Cregan approaches Jace. You would have expected yourself to be satisfied by now, but watching Jace lick the cum off himself and Cregan inflames your pussy once more. You wobble upwards, kneeling on the floor and engulfing Jace's cock with your mouth as you jerk Cregan's cock. The pair moan into eachothers mouths at the touch.

Leaning down, Cregan pulls you gently by the hair onto all fours. Your eyes widen as you realise what he means. Your mouth opens involuntarily as he makes you suck his fingers, chuckling to himself.

"You reckon she's ready?" Jace asks him. Cregan nods, eyes dark and glinting.

"Oh yes, her pussy's a mess. Look at how good she is, sucking my fingers," he removes them, smirking as you whine. "Don't worry girl, you'll be able to suck all you want."

He nudges his cock by your lips, and you swallow it whole. He begins thrusting lightly, moaning heavily at how good your mouth feels wrapped around his cock.

You startle when you feel Jacaerys' hard cock press against your pussy lips, gently easing inside as your eyes roll back. You feel so full as he settles deep inside you.

Jace begins thrusting against you, hitting that sweet spot deep inside that very few can reach whilst Cregan uses your hair to push you deeper onto his cock. Breathing through your nose, you sink down until his cock is deep in your throat, making a strangled moan come from his lips. You can feel the hot licks of pleasure build again inside as Jace rubs your clit as he pummels your pussy and gives you a healthy slap on your ass, watching it shake. His hands grab your hips and squeeze, leaving bruises that will spark some intense memories later.

Cregan huffs and you can tell he's close to finishing, so you swallow hard as his cock hits your throat again. He cries out and you feel ropes of salty cum filling up your mouth and throat.

You climax at the feeling, Jace's fingers carrying you over the edge as he pulls out and cums across your back. Your pussy flutters as you cum hard, collapsing on the floor as the two men pant and join you.

All three of you lie there, softly breathing and exchanging sweet kisses and looks. Cregan stands first, hauling you up to the bathroom to wipe you down whilst Jace grabs you some water each.

Sandwiched between them in bed again, you feel yourself drift off to sleep as Cregan and Jace hold you tight. You can only hope the next time with the pair will be even better.

• • • • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • • • •

Word Count: 1.1k

Themes: angst, lesbian angst, just let my girl alicent be a wlw queen cmon, religious guilt, kinda OOC soz

• • • • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • • • •

The godswood is silent, save for the soft rustling of leaves in the gentle breeze. The sun sets, casting a warm glow over the Red Keep and painting the sky in shades of crimson and gold. You walk through the ancient grove, your footsteps hushed on the moss-covered path. The old oak trees stand tall, their branches reaching out like welcoming arms. Your robes sweep the floor, and you heart thuds in your chest. 

In the midst of this serene setting, you find yourself drawn to a familiar figure seated on a stone bench beneath the weirwood tree. Her auburn hair glows like fire in the dimming light, and her shoulders tremble with silent sobs. Queen Alicent Hightower, once your childhood companion, now the widow of King Viserys, grieves alone. You are not unknown to this grief yourself. He was your father, despite only ever seeing Rhaenyra as a true Targaryen princess.

You stop for a moment, taking in the sight before you. The woman who once laughed with you under the very same tree now sits, silenced and wrought. The years have carved paths of worry and weariness upon her face, but to you, she remains the beautiful girl you once knew—a girl you secretly loved.

As you step closer, your heart pounds in your chest. Your decision to become a septa instead of marrying had not been an easy one. It severed any chance of relationship with your father and sister. You were too pious and meek for their dragon blood. It was a path that granted you freedom from the duties of court life, yet it had also been a means to escape the yearning you felt for Alicent—a love you dared not speak of, not even to yourself. You remembered the hot shame you felt when your sister teased you for wanting to dance with Alicent instead of handsome suitors as a younger maid.

"Alicent," you whisper softly, your voice barely breaking the solemn silence she sat in.

She looks up, her eyes red from crying, yet they soften upon seeing you. The weight of the crown seems to slip away, if only for a moment, and before you sits not just your Queen, but also your Alicent.

"(Y/N)," she breathes your name like a prayer, as though your presence alone could aid her stricken heart. "What are you doing here?"

"I know not, my feet took me here of their own accord," you reply, though your true purpose is far deeper. "But seeing you here... I couldn't leave you alone in your sorrow."

Alicent wipes her tears with the back of her hand, trying to compose herself. "It's foolish," she says, her voice cracking. "To weep like this. He was your father too."

"It's not foolish," you reassure her, taking a seat beside her. Your hand hesitates before resting on hers, and you feel the warmth of her skin—a touch you've longed for, yet denied yourself for so long. "Grief is the heart's way of speaking when words fail."

The two of you sit in silence for a moment, listening to the whispers of the trees. Your mind drifts back to those days of youth when you and Alicent would escape to this very spot, finding fun and companionship away from the prying eyes of the court. You would steal away with cakes stolen from banquet tables and regale each other with reenactments of legends of old. Back then, your feelings were a secret, even from yourself, masked as the innocence of friendship.

"I miss him," Alicent confesses, breaking the silence. "Viserys... he was a good man, even if our marriage was... complicated."

Your heart aches for her loss, but there's something deeper—an ache for what might have been if circumstances were different. You glance at her, taking in the sight of her gentle profile, the elegance that is Alicent, and suddenly, the words you've held back for so many years press against your lips. The blood of the dragon finally roars within you, urging you to be brave, be true.

"Alicent," you begin, your voice trembling with the weight of a thousand unsaid words. "There is something I must tell you... something I've kept hidden for far too long."

She turns to you, curiosity and concern mingling in her gaze. "What is it?" You believe she already knows. How could she not, when all you ever did was gaze longingly at her?

You take a deep breath, steeling yourself for what you are about to reveal. "I've loved you, Alicent. I have always loved you, from the days of our youth until this very moment. From when you would declare yourself the Rhaenys to my Visenya, I have loved only you."

Your confession hangs in the air between you, the air heavy and thick. Alicent's eyes widen, and for a brief moment, you fear rejection. But then, something shifts in her expression—a softening, a recognition.

"(Y/N)," she murmurs, her hand squeezing yours gently. "I have longed for you as well. In the silence of my heart, I wished things could have been different." Her face is fraught. Fear of shame is etched into her, but yet she still holds your hand.

The relief that washes over you is mingled with a bittersweet realization of the paths you both chose. Duty, family, and honor had dictated your lives, pulling you away from each other. Yet, in this stolen moment beneath the weirwood's watchful eyes, those burdens seem to fade.

Your gaze locks with Alicent's, and without another word, you lean forward, capturing her lips with yours. The kiss is gentle, filled with the yearning of years unspoken. It is a taste of what could have been, a glimpse into a world where your love was not confined by duty and titles.

Alicent responds, her kiss tender and hesitant, as though afraid that acknowledging this love will unravel everything she has built, everything she has fought for. She has given her maidenhood and life for the crown. But within this fleeting moment, the world outside the godswood ceases to exist, leaving only the two of you and the unspoken bond you share. The kiss is not just a kiss. It is a promise, and the weirwood tree's eyes watch knowingly.

As you finally part, reality returns, bringing with it the weight of your choices. Alicent's eyes glisten with tears, and you know this moment, as perfect as it is, cannot last.

"I must return," she whispers, her voice laced with sorrow. "To my children, to the realm. There is no place for us in this world." That cuts you like a knife.

Your heart breaks at the truth of her words, yet you nod, understanding the burden she carries. As a septa, you have vowed to live a life of celibacy and devotion to the gods, but your heart will always bear the mark of this love. Your true devotion will lie with her.

"Know that you are not alone," you tell her, your voice steady despite the ache within. "I will always be here, by the weirwood, in your heart, should you need me."

Alicent nods, and though her eyes are filled with gratitude, they are also heavy with the loss of a love that can not be. She stands, and you watch as she walks away, her form retreating into the shadows of the evening.

As the night falls over King's Landing, you remain, like a statue, your heart tethered. In the quiet solitude of the ancient grove, you pray to the Mother and the Maiden not only for peace but for the strength to accept the path you both have chosen.

Yet, even as you bow your head in silent supplication, you know that your heart will always linger in the godswood, where the echoes of your love for Alicent remain eternal, like the whispered prayers carried on the wind. And so, you continue your vigil, hoping that one day, perhaps in another life, your paths may cross again without the chains of duty holding you back.

• • • • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • • • •

Word count: 1.8k

Themes: fluffy, content warning of alcohol and cigars/cigarettes, the SMALLEST drop of spiciness

• • • • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • • • •

The invitation came two weeks ago, a luxurious cream-colored card with a gold-embossed crest. It was unmistakably Alicent Hightower’s style: elegant, formal, and a touch extravagant. Alicent always had a flair for the dramatics.

Alicent was your best friend since your university days. You'd lived together in student halls first year and stuck by each other ever since, suffering through hangovers and linguistics classes together. Godsdamn Valyrian was hard to learn.

When she mentioned that her 24th birthday party would be *the* event of the year, you expected nothing less than a grand affair. She was planning a celebration at her family’s mansion, complete with a guest list full of the coolest who’s who in Westeros and enough booze to get everyone thoroughly inebriated.

You decided to dress the part, slipping into a sleek black dress that hugged your curves just right. You paired it with silver heels and a clutch that matched. Your hair was done in the way Rhaenyra said was very fetching, and you had those diamond earrings Mysaria gave you for Christmas last year on. After checking yourself in the mirror one last time, you headed to the Hightower mansion, excitement tingling in your veins.

As you approached the grand entrance, you were greeted by the soft glow of string lights that draped over the sprawling garden and the subtle hum of music seeping from the house. The scene was already buzzing with energy; laughter and conversation mingled with the scent of barbecue (wagyu meat, of course) and the faint aroma of expensive cigars.

Alicent spotted you the moment you walked through the door. She looked stunning in an emerald green dress that made her eyes pop like bright jewels against her porcelain skin. Her auburn hair was styled in loose waves, framing her face perfectly.

“Y/N!” she exclaimed, weaving through the crowd to wrap you in a tight hug. “You made it!”

“Of course I did,” you laughed, hugging her back. “I wouldn’t miss your party for anything.”

Alicent pulled back, her eyes twinkling with excitement. “Come on, let me introduce you to everyone.”

The mansion was a sprawling labyrinth of luxury. Guests gathered in the expansive living room, on the patio, and around the pool in the backyard. As Alicent guided you through the throng, you recognized several faces from university and others from various social gatherings. Laena waved at you as she chatted to and shared a cig with Criston, who gave you a big smile and a wink as he sipped a fruity-looking cocktail.

The Targaryens were there in force—Rhaenyra, with her striking platinum hair, was animatedly chatting with her husband, Laenor Velaryon. Alicent had informed you of their 'arrangement' that suited them and their law firm just fine. In fact, you were pretty sure Nyra and Alicent had dallied around in the past (and present) together. Daemon Targaryen, the notorious bad boy, was lounging by the pool, an amused smirk playing on his lips as he puffed a Cubana cigar. However, there was only one man who Alicent wanted you to talk to that night.

“Y/N, meet my brother Gwayne,” Alicent said, pulling you towards a tall, striking man with broad shoulders and an easy smile. He had the same auburn hair as Alicent, though his was cut shorter and a bit unruly. His hazel eyes were warm and inviting, carrying a hint of mischief that was instantly captivating. He wore a crisp white shirt and grey slacks, the undone collar buttons making your heart race a little. You spy a chain with a ring around his neck and a swanky wristwatch.

“Hey,” Gwayne greeted, offering his hand. His voice was smooth, with a playful lilt that sent a shiver down your spine. “Alicent’s told me a lot about you.”

You shook his hand, trying to ignore the tingling sensation his touch left on your skin. “All good things, I hope.”

“All good, I promise,” he replied, his smile widening.

Alicent grinned knowingly. “I can't believe you haven't met before! I’ll leave you two to chat,” she said with a wink before disappearing into the crowd, clearly intent on matchmaking.

“So, how are you enjoying the party?” Gwayne asked, leaning against the bar with an effortless charm.

“It’s amazing,” you admitted, glancing around at the lively atmosphere. “Alicent really knows how to throw a party.” You remember the simple days of pre-drinks at the flat, trying to down as much cheap wine as possible before hitting your favoured club, the Dragon Pit.

“She does,” Gwayne agreed, nodding towards the expansive patio. “Have you tried the drinks yet? We’ve got a special cocktail menu for the occasion.”

You shook your head, and he offered you his arm. “Come on, let’s get you something.”

You followed him to the bar, where he ordered two drinks, an Iron Islands ice tea and a Stormlands sangria, explaining the mix of flavours and how they were inspired by the Seven Kingdoms. It was evident he knew his way around a party just as much as his sister did. As you sipped on the concoction—a mix of sweet, tangy, and a hint of spice—you found yourself relaxing, drawn in by Gwayne’s easy conversation and the comfortable vibe he exuded.

He asked about your work and your interests and seemed genuinely interested in your answers. As the night wore on, the initial nervousness you felt in his presence melted away, replaced by a growing sense of comfort and attraction.

You noticed the way Gwayne’s eyes lingered on you, the subtle brush of his hand against yours as you stood close, and the warmth of his gaze when you laughed at his jokes. The chemistry between you was undeniable, an electric current that thrummed beneath the surface of every exchanged glance and shared smile. The way you easily laughed and joked after a couple of shared kamikaze shots with only the finest of Vale vodka made your heart soar.

“Come on!”Rhaenyra’s voice cut through the crowd, pulling your attention to the pool area, where the jacuzzi was bubbling invitingly. She beckoned the large group you were stood with over, waving her hand dramatically. “Time for some real fun!” she wiggled her eyebrows at you, and you snorted loudly.

Gwayne arched an eyebrow at you, a playful glint in his eyes. “What do you say? Fancy a dip?”

The idea of the jacuzzi sounded appealing, and the thought of being closer to Gwayne was even more tempting. “Why not?” You agreed, feeling a thrill of excitement.

Alicent had thought of everything, including a changing area near the pool with an array of swimwear for guests to choose from. After picking out a green metallic bikini, you changed quickly and stepped out into the warm night air.

Gwayne was already waiting, having swapped his party clothes for swim trunks. His toned physique was impossible to ignore, and as you approached, he flashed you a grin that made your heart race. You melted at the sight of his muscled arms. If you swooned publicly over your bestie's brother, Gods knows you'd never hear the end of it.

The jacuzzi was an oasis of warmth, and as you sank into the bubbling water beside Gwayne, you felt the party energy really start to flow. You were surrounded by laughter and chatter, the air thick with the smell of camaraderie that was both intoxicating and freeing. Or maybe that was the smell of Daemon offering you a cigarette.

As the conversation flowed, Gwayne moved closer, his knee brushing against yours beneath the water. “So, what do you think?” he asked, his voice low enough that only you could hear.

"About the jacuzzi or the company?" you teased, meeting his gaze.

“Both.”

You laughed softly, feeling bold and buoyed by the evening’s energy and copious booze. “The jacuzzi is great, but the company is definitely the highlight.”

His eyes darkened slightly, a pleased smile playing on his lips. “I’m glad to hear that.” Godsdammit, he was hot when he was smug.

For a moment, you forgot about the rest of the party, lost in the connection you felt with Gwayne. The world around you seemed to fade, leaving only the two of you in your own little bubble.

Alicent appeared at the edge of the jacuzzi, a conspiratorial smile on her lips. “Are you two enjoying yourselves?” she asked, a knowing look in her eyes.

Gwayne shot her an exasperated look, rolling his eyes. “Yes, Alicent, we’re enjoying ourselves.” You giggled at his sass, and he laughed easily.

She laughed, too, glancing between you two. “Good. I'm just making sure.” With a wink, she left, leaving you and Gwayne in your bubbly little corner.

“Your sister seems intent on playing matchmaker,” you observed, leaning back against the side of the jacuzzi.

Gwayne shrugged, his gaze steady on yours. “She means well. But I’m not complaining.”

The admission sent a pleasant flutter through your chest. The more time you spent with him, the more you realized how much you enjoyed his presence—the way he made you laugh, the way he listened, and the way he made you feel as if you were the only person that mattered.

As the night deepened, the party’s energy shifted to a more relaxed, intimate vibe. The music softened, and the crowd thinned, leaving a more personal vibe.

Gwayne shifted closer, his expression serious but gentle. “I’ve really enjoyed talking with you tonight, Y/N.”

You met his gaze, feeling a warmth spread through you that had nothing to do with the jacuzzi. “I’ve enjoyed it too, Gwayne.”

He hesitated for a moment, as if weighing his words carefully. “Would you be interested in going out sometime? Just the two of us?”

The question sent a thrill of anticipation through you, and you nodded, unable to suppress a smile. “I’d like that very much.”

His answering smile was a bright, genuine thing that made your heart skip a beat. “Great. It’s a date, then.

As the stars twinkled above and the sounds of the party faded into the background, Gwayne leaned in, his gaze locked onto yours. The world seemed to hold its breath as he closed the distance between you, his lips brushing against yours in a soft, tentative kiss.

The kiss was everything you hoped it would be—gentle yet filled with a promise of more to come. When he pulled back, his eyes searched yours for any hesitation, but all he found was an echo of his own eagerness. He leaned in again and kissed you, more fervent this time, and you whimpered lightly as his teeth grazed your bottom lip.

“I’ll call you,” he promised, his voice a low murmur that sent a pleasant shiver down your spine.

You nodded, your mind a whirlwind of possibilities. “I’ll be waiting.”

As the night wound down and you lingered in the warmth of the jacuzzi, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of contentment and excitement for what lay ahead. Alicent’s party had indeed been one to remember, and she would be bragging for the rest of time about how it was her that set up the cutest couple in Westeros.

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Word Count: 1.5k

Themes: fluuuuuufff (veeery OOC lol but i need some sweetness rn), content warning of cigarettes and drinking

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Living with Helaena Targaryen is an adventure in itself. She's a wonderful flatmate and best friend. You bonded pretty quickly with her when you both signed up for Valyrian classes at your university, Blackwater Uni, in King's Landing. Her quirky charm is infectious, and the flat you both share is filled with small terrariums and ethereal string lights that make everything feel like a dream. Every night, the pair of you cook together and look after Helaena's array of babies, even if the spiders make you a bit squeamish. You love her, you love her family too.

It’s a lazy Saturday morning after a cheeky pub trip the night before when Helaena bursts into your room with a bright smile, her platinum blonde hair shining in the sunlight streaming through the window.

“I have an idea!” she announces, plopping down on the bed beside you and nearly knocking your jewellery box Nyra got you from Lys off your bedside table.

“You have lots of those, careful not to hurt yourself,” you tease, setting aside the book you were pretending to read for your latest university essay.

“I think we should have a get-together here tonight. A family night! You, me, and my brothers. We could do a Lord of the Rings marathon!” she pokes your arm, wiggling her eyebrows. She knows your weaknesses to a tee.

The thought of hosting a cosy evening (with some extracurriculars) sounds delightful. You’ve always had a soft spot for her brothers, especially Aemond. There's something about his intense gaze and quiet demeanour that draws you in, and your mutual love for all things Tolkien only deepens that sweet connection.

“That sounds perfect,” you agree. “What do you need me to do?”

“Just be your wonderful self!” Helaena grins. “I’ll take care of snacks, and Aegon said he’d handle the food.” You raise your eyebrows. Sounds like this night was happening regardless of your opinion. You grab a pillow and thwack Helaena, who screams lightly and crumples onto the floor, laughing her ass off.

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As the day transitions into evening, the flat transforms into a snug haven. Soft fairy lights cast a warm glow, and the aroma of freshly popped popcorn fills the air. You and Helaena arrange an assortment of snacks on the coffee table, including gummy worms (Helaena’s favorite), chocolate-covered pretzels (your favourite) and a colourful array of fruits (only Daeron will touch them).

Aegon arrives first through the door, arms laden with bags of Chinese takeaway and closely followed by his blond brothers. His carefree grin is infectious as he sets the bags down and immediately begins sorting through the contents.

“Alright, listen up! I got everything. Chicken chow mein for me, sweet and sour pork for Daeron, Kung Pao chicken for Helaena, and Aemond, you get your usual, Szechuan beef.” He looks at you with a cheeky smile. “And for our lovely host, your favourite, vegetable dumplings and egg fried rice.”

You smile, touched by Aegon’s thoughtfulness. The last time you'd gotten Chinese was after Baela's birthday 3 months ago, and whilst you expected him to remember your chippy order, this was quite sweet. “You remembered.”

“Of course,” he winks, settling onto the couch with his carton of noodles.

Daeron dives right into his sweet and sour pork, chatting animatedly about his latest adventures at university. He's like a sweet younger brother to you, and you ruffle his hair when he tries to nick some of your dumplings.

Aemond's presence is a bit quieter but no less significant. He offers you a small smile, one that you return warmly, feeling your heart skip a beat.

"Hiya Aemond," you say. He nods, passing you his fortune cookie. He's not the biggest fan, you remember, quite touched he gave it to you and not Helaena, who huffs comically at her loss.

With everyone settled, the movie marathon begins. You and Aemond exchange knowing glances as the opening scenes of 'The Fellowship of the Ring' play. Both of you gaze quite longingly at The Shire, and you feel your heart stutter a little when Aemond glances at you when Arwen declares her love for Aragorn. The moment is broken by Aegon cracking open a Strongbow cider and tossing you a pre-mixed vodka soda can. You sigh lightly and settle in for the movie.

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As 'The Two Towers' progresses, Aegon sprawls across the couch, lazily consuming anyone's uneaten cold noodles, while Daeron animatedly discusses his favorite characters (Merry and Boromir) with Helaena, who favours Galadriel most of all.

"Imagine how useful the gift of prophecy would be," she dreams aloud. "I'd know all the answers on my entomology exams."

You find yourself nestled comfortably between Aemond and the armrest, stealing glances at him whenever Aragorn and Arwen share the screen. His focus is unwavering, and you find yourself asking him about his opinions of the plot, as if you both haven't watched a million times. It's worth it for the smile he gives you as he describes his love of Faramir. You argue Theoden's case with such passion that he laughs so loudly even Aegon is startled out of a snooze.

By the time 'The Return of the King' reaches its climactic battle hours later, Aegon is fast asleep, snoring lightly with an empty carton resting on his stomach. Daeron and Helaena aren’t far behind, having dozed off to the comfort of the couch, nestled under soft blankets.

That leaves just you and Aemond, the room silent save for the movie's soundtrack and the rhythmic breathing of the others.

You catch Aemond’s eye during the scene where Aragorn is crowned king, and Arwen finally steps forward. You like how Arwen and Aragorn's love is quiet almost, all words expressed through gazes. You feel your heart constrict a bit when Aemond holds your hand for the departure of Bilbo.

As the credits roll, Aemond stretches and stands, offering you a hand. “Care to step outside for some fresh air?” he suggests.

You nod, taking his hand as he leads you to the balcony. The night air is cool against your skin, and the city lights twinkle like distant stars. King's Landing is a great city to live in. You love it dearly.

Aemond pulls out a pack of cigarettes, offering you one. You accept, though you really only smoke for special occasions. You cringe remembering Jace's 18th at Dragonstone nightclub where you tried to chainsmoke. Thank Gods Aemond was there with water to help you.

The two of you stand in comfortable silence, the smoke curling up into the night sky.

“Thank you for tonight,” Aemond says softly, his gaze fixed on the horizon.

You smile, exhaling a puff of smoke. “I should be thanking you. I loved every minute.”

He turns to you, a hint of vulnerability in his expression. “You know, Aragorn and Arwen’s story always resonated with me. The idea of finding someone who sees you for who you truly are...”

His words hang in the air, heavy with meaning. You feel your heart flutter, warmth spreading through you like the gentle glow of a hearth.

“I know what you mean,” you reply, meeting his gaze. “It's about finding someone who understands the depths of your soul.” Big words for a young girl at uni, and usually you'd cringe at such dramatic speeches that are reserved for club toilets with the girls after too many tequila shots, but with Aemond, poetics seem right.

Aemond steps closer, the distance between you shrinking until it's almost nonexistent. The world around you fades, leaving only the two of you bathed in moonlight.

His voice is barely above a whisper. “I think I’ve found that person.”

Your breath catches, the world standing still. The sincerity in his eyes is undeniable, a reflection of your own heart laid bare.

In that moment, words are unnecessary. The connection you share speaks louder than anything you could say.

With a gentle touch, Aemond cups your face, his thumb brushing softly against your cheek. You lean into his touch, feeling the warmth of his hand against your skin.

And then, as if drawn together by an invisible force, his lips find yours in a kiss that’s both tender and profound. It’s a promise and a realization, a moment that feels like the culmination of every shared glance and whispered conversation over years of your friendship. His lips are warm and soft, and you feel perfect.

When you finally part, the world around you slowly comes back into focus, the sounds of the city distant and gentle. Aemond smiles, a rare and genuine smile that lights up his entire face.

“Let’s make this a tradition,” he suggests, his voice laced with hope. “Movie marathons, Chinese takeout, and us.”

You nod, your heart swelling with happiness. “I’d like that. I’d like that a lot.”

As you stand together on the balcony, the night stretches on, filled with endless possibilities and the promise of new beginnings. It’s a moment that feels both timeless and fleeting, a memory you’ll hold close for years to come.

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