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❝Daemon doesn't know what to do with you.❞

[ Never piss off your wife. She might acquire a living, breathing punishment for you. Aka, Daemon made a mistake and you're his punishment ft. Rhaenyra stay winning. ]

[ +18 MDNI ] [ 1,985 ] | Daemyra x Sugar Baby!Reader

contains— sugar mommy x sugar baby, open relationship/understandings, toxic relationship??? allusions of cheating, established realtionship - nsfw: oral, p & v sex, v & v sex, pet names mainly: darling, sweet girl, good girl, praise, male masturbation shshhs - you piss the shit outta daemon (as you should), slight angst? - sort of daemon-focused since it's in his pov, but rhae's the only one allowed to touch you lol - no targcest bc its the modern world and that would be weird.

a/n— i dont want to talk about it, okay. comment/reblog/like at will ❤️️

Daemon doesn't know what to do with you.

With your soft noises encouraged to heighten in pleasure whenever Rhaenyra had you over- and after initial test drive of the first few times, stretched in months to weeks to days - she had you over all the time, at random times of the day. Any time the boys or his girls weren't by (being taken care of in the park, Harwin or Laena's visitation rights, Rhaenys wanting to take them off for Corlys weekend fishing trips)- your mewls turned unbridled shouts of pleasure now filled the high-rise.

You permeate the space like a cigarette stain; you didn't even need to be godsdamned present anymore. It starts with your perfume- it's lighter than Rhaenyra's but heavier in sweetness. Vanille. A touch of it that he's foul to recognise. Lipstick stains on his wife's neck, her blouse, where he can imagine your lips drag and bite and suckle because the kids are too young to understand and it's not like he's not one to leave his own marks, but there's a thunderous boil that drums in his veins when he realises you're leaving your own on his wife.

You fill the nooks and crannies like a plague, and you don't even care about him.

Worse, you taunt him.

And it's not like he could say anything to Nyra.

After all, the two of them had an understanding after he got caught with a minor dalliance of his own. It was a one time thing, and he only got blown, but it was enough for a talking to. A mutual agreement that was really just him pacifying his wife.

He really should have focused on the crooks of how upset she had been, on the gleam in her eyes when he thought she had simmered down. That her fire, though not as brightly lit, was still very much burning.

"You can have any sweet thing that you want, husband, as long as you keep them away from the kids. As long as you keep it quiet and away from me. I do not want the details." Nyra's mouth had curled. He remembered. She took up the space behind him, wine-kissed as she was, her fingers dancing on his shoulders and kneading at the tough centre of the nape of his neck. His eyelids fluttered and he barely heard her next words.

"In return, you will not make a fuss when I take mine, hm?"

Daemon had laughed. He remembered that. A soft, more air than sound laugh.

He took her hand to his lips and smirked up at her. Shark-like. Baiting. Daring. "As you wish, wife. In return, you can tell me all about it."

There was a strong part of Daemon that didn't think she'd actually do it.

Rhaenyra had smiled that smile that reminded him of godswoods and Valyrian necklaces, passed down from generation after generation. A silent vow louder drew from blood.

There was a strong part of Daemon who thought his wife was jesting, making a bluff, a toss of a coin.

Until you arrived with a sweet smile and a tinkling little laugh.

Until he had found his wife with her face buried between your legs, your hands— freshly done nails and glimmering rings, new, he later found out from the bank transcripts — and your back arched, your mouth gaping in a silent scream as you come undone.

It took a minute for you to see him, so stuck in that pleasure that broke and free-fell through you several times because 'Nyra didn't want to let up, calling you her sweet girl, her darling girl, that's it, you can take more, can you? aren't you my good girl?

When your thick lashed-eyes finally met his darkened lilac gaze, lipstick still perfect red, still perfectly plump and moist, your mouth curls into a charming little smile and said, "Oh, hello there."

Rhaenyra looked up, and at the smirk on her face, your spend all around her ruined lipstick and chin— Daemon knew she wanted him to see. Wanted him to know. It's a bullet shot down his spine, straight to his cock. It's a cold thrill and grasped fingers around his throat with rings nestled to make indents.

It's a violent blend of jealousy and lust, and the cocktail emotion rages in him, swirls and punctures.

There is a bite between Rhaenyra and Daemon, a fiery edge that often saunters the edges, crosses a new line. But each time, after each rough push, they come back to one another; a tether of becoming, of pulling taunt. Once again united. They are assured in each other's positions; you can play with anyone but you always come back to me.

Rhaenyra has won this one. She had snapped, pulled, and arose victorious.

But they always come together. And often, enjoyed sharing.

What Daemon forgets sometimes is that he is a younger brother, and really, Rhaenyra was the eldest and the sole eye of her father. When righteous selfishness burns with a petty need to make her husband suffer, it heels hard.

"She is mine, husband," she whispers at the edge of his lips, riding him through a slick, sex-haze after you had left. Her thighs slap against his own, his hands harsh on the indents of her waist as she rode him with no abandon, uncaring for his pleasure this time, selfishness the game this time, but the renewed roughness brought him to the early days of their marriage. That unbridled want, a clash of teeth and skin and raw, burning lust.

There is a growl and a hiss, a moan and a gasp; blood has beaded through bitten flesh and bruises are blooming. This is fucking from the high of a third party dancing on their marriage.

And Rhaenyra's refusal of you to him made him throb.

She had seen him high-strung, plotted him to be harder than a box of rocks, already harshly yanking his tie in anticipation of having his wife and you with your fox gazes and sire song, but Rhaenyra had turned away from him, ignored him, and slapped your thigh before kissing your cheek.

"Come back next time, darling, my husband is home." It was said in a tease, a lighthearted joke between two people he was not a part of, but he knew his wife; recognised the bite. The smugness.

And by god, you were in on it as you thrilled a laugh and slid your gaze to his, undressing and fucking him with your eyes as you bit your lip. Your words are to Rhae, a hand on her cheek and a thumb rubbing at the corner of her lip, but your gaze is devouring him. He wasn't a green boy, but you seemed amused and feral for the hard-line of his manhood. As if you can picture what he would feel like buried deep inside your guts, and enjoyed it.

"Am I just going to be yours then, hm?" you asked amusedly, finally turning to her.

Nyra turned her gaze then, to him, and smirked. "You, I will not share. A fitting punishment, don't you think? Some jewels are meant for one alone."

And you had laughed, the gall of you, taking your bag (new one too,a matching one with his wife) and walking right past him. Your scent- his wife's fucking scent, the smell of her cunt on you and his dick throbbed - devoured him as you left him with a wink and a quiet, "too bad."

You had not even gone inside the elevator of their penthouse before a growl tore through his chest and he had met Rhaenyra's thundering footsteps with his own, their tongues and teeth clashing for dominance, ripping apart clothes, wanting to bury each other in the other's skin.

Now, she reaches her peak with a yell and a full body shudder, her cunt clenching and squeezing, demanding his release, and he jolts with her with a swear of his own, his cum flooding her in thick, sharp bursts.

Even then, as Rhae smiled sweetly, post-peak glow simpering her fire, sweetening her kisses against the side of his face, his neck, running a tongue over the worst of the bruises and bites— Daemon thought, surely, now that his wife had reached post-coital bliss and forgiven him, punishment had been had? That he was free to have you, to play with you?

But no. You were off limits. Hers and hers alone. A punishment that keeps on giving as the echoes of you exist in his life in patterns he was starting to fucking loath.

The scent in the bath- the echo of the warmth of someone having used it recently, someone who wasn't his wife, in the pillows of his living room, the barest smudge of makeup as if your face had been pushed against them. In the snacks and drinks that he, nor his wife, nor their children, particularly like, fill up the corners of his kitchen. The lipstick stains on his wife, the running mill in the bank statements (the new necklaces, new dresses, new fucking lingerie he hasn't seen), and when he had finally had enough, shoving through his own house to talk to his wife that the least she could do while she was fucking you was be allowed to be there, he hears it then—

Your shouts of pleasure falling into sighs into giggles, and when he slows to his marital bedroom, you are there— breathing heavily, alive, real— naked and slicked, a goddess divine, with Rhaenyra inside you in more ways than one, baring her teeth in a victorious grin before falling into a laugh at his face.

"Am I allowed to have him now, is that it?" you ask, seemingly innocent. One of the new necklaces in his statements on your neck and nothing else. Chest moving in shuddering breath having just orgasmed and yelling it.

"Your choice, sweet girl," Rhae purrs, leaning back over your form to run a finger from the valley of your breasts to your stomach to your clit that turns your shudders to an outright jolt, then a sigh, when she starts fingering you in front of him. The squelch is obscene, and Daemon is hard, and he is not a fucking boy but he is starting to hate you as much as he wants to fuck the lazy smirk on your face, pleasure so obviously building once again. Soft sighs, mewls, escaping full, raw lips.

"I kind of... want him to watch a little. Just- ah! Nyra there, please - sit still and pretty." You smirk, giving him a pouty air kiss. The urge to strangle you sings in his blood. Hold you down and fuck you until you're better pliant, sweeter, fucking cooing for him. Fuck the spoil Rhaenyra has ingrained in you away.

You turn to the silver-haired woman on top of you, now on her haunches, pressing a gentle kiss to your clit. She held his gaze as she pressed her tongue flat against before taking a glorious, heavy-gazed lick.

Daemon swallows.

"Is that- ahhh, okay? Nyra, hmm? Please?" You sigh ever so sweetly, kindly. Though you're ridiculously spoiled, you were a good girl, following so obediently. If his cock didn't feel like it was burning to be inside your mouth, he would have revelled in it.

You squirm, turning back to him to hold his gaze while his wife started to fuck you through her tongue and fingers.

Someone up there was taking a piss on him. He pulls out his cock, a grunt and a curse, because fuck it, fuck you in particular— as the two of you continued on while keeping eye contact with him.

He took one step closer and Rhaenyra hissed.

"Whatever you want, baby." Nyra smirks against your pussy as he tugged at himself, teeth bared. "You're his punishment after all."

— teach me how to break you

Sugar Daddy Aemond x Fem!Reader

Summary: Exhausted, trying to balance college student life with multiple shifts working at the small bookstore to make ends meet, you find yourself completely turned upside down when a platinum-haired CEO turns his attention to you.

Anne's note: this story is based on this request from a dear anon. Thanks for this and I hope you like it ;)

Dividers: @v6que

Visual inspiration for Aemond - @catb0yfriend

Rating: Explicit +18

PROCEED WITH CAUTION.

English is not my first language.

Some days, you feel like you're living through pivotal days and never paying enough attention to notice. The days came and went, a constant grind of collegework and double shifts that are so monotonous you would have believed someone had just copied and pasted it into your life. A repetition of more of the same. There were certainly some variations in the faces that passed through the little bookstore you work at, but for every memorable customer there was at least one regular to remind you that your life is subject to an endless routine.

There was only one face that broke the monotonous cycle of your life: a customer with white hair, wearing an eye patch and a gaze so blue that it almost looks purple under the store's warm lights.

Unlike most regular customers, who religiously stop by on their breaks from college and work, his appearance didn't seem to be planned. Sometimes you held your breath and twisted your fingers around each other wondering when he would arrive – because he always appeared at some point. Not every day of couse, after all, no one reads a book a day. But at least once a week.

That your break from the monotony depended on the arrival of an unpredictable customer is not lost on you, but there is something about him that always makes your heart stop. He's unfairly handsome, so much so that you almost forgot how the gift of speech worked the first time he appeared. You never exchanged words other than book requests and recommendations, and that's okay. Judging by the suits and clothes he always wore, it's obvious that he is stupidly rich and way out of your league.

But that didn't stop your heart from stuttering every time he walked through the door, practically exuding wealth and power just by his gait, someone clearly used to commanding an entire room. He always asked your opinion on what he should read this time, so you usually already had your lines planned for when he showed up.

“Good morning, sir”, you used to greet him, already with a book in your hands, ready to start your little, rehearsed speech about why he should really read it.

To which he usually curls his lips into something that looks more like a smirk than a real smile, but is dazzling nonetheless. He would take the book from your smaller hands, not even bothering to leaf through it to see if it was really worth buying (his confidence in your recommendation always made your breathing quicken) and say: “Thank you for this, princess.”

That had always been the extent of the conversation between the two of you, and maybe you were imagining things, but with each passing day it seemed like the heat in his blue eye seemed to grow, the quirk of his lips getting closer to something more genuine.

Breaking the sameness of your days depended on this man. But when he left, you went back to drowning in that sea of repetition and boredom.

But just when you thought you were really going to succumb to the drudgery and exhausting work your life has become, something happens to finally break your routine. A phone call, coming right after your lunch break, where the customer flow is low enough to leave your manager running the store alone, who smiles permissibly.

You enter the back room, frowning when you see the call is from your landlord.

"Hello?"

“Hello, Miss Y/N. This phone call will be accompanied by an email and a letter so you have everything in writing, but I am calling to let you know in advance that we will be increasing the rent on all rentals next month.”

You sigh and close your eyes tightly. "How much will this increase be?"

“For your rent, there will be a monthly increase of 30% of the current value.”

God. You could barely survive on rent, uni bills and daily expenses, and that amount would be almost an entire extra week of work.

“I know times are tough right now, Miss Y/N, that’s why I wanted to give you as much notice as possible. I'm very sorry."

“Thanks for letting me know,” you mumble, not feeling the least bit grateful. You hang up the phone, trying to take a deep breath to regain your composure before getting back to work.

You were doing your best not to panic, wondering how you could afford the rent increase. You were living paycheck to paycheck and didn't have enough saved for a deposit to move somewhere more affordable.

Your head was going crazy, and even though you had tried to get back into customer service, your manager, Catelyn, seemed to understand everything.

“You got some bad news back there, I presume?”

You bit your lip. “Would it be possible to increase my shifts at the store?”

“Increase your shifts?” Catelyn repeated in disbelief. “Honey, you already work twice as hard almost every day. You’re working yourself to the bone as it is.”

“Maybe I could take sundays?”

The older woman narrows her green eyes. “This is your only day off a week, Y/N. When will you have time for uni?”

“I know, I know...but they just raised my rent, Catelyn,” you said calmly, willing your voice not to crack. “I won’t be able to pay uni and rent any other way.”

Your manager pursed her lips. “Let me check the books, maybe we can give you a pay raise. I’ll try everything I can to help, girl.”

You almost lose your grip on your knees at the wave of relief that rushes through your body. “Thank you, Catelyn, really.”

The older woman clicks her tongue, offering you a motherly pinch on your cheek before she slips behind the store, leaving the customer management to you.

You look down the aisles of books, cheeks burning when you realize that he is standing near one of the shelves, blue gaze boring into you intensely. You blush from the roots of your hair to your toes, plastering an apologetic smile on your face.

"My apologies for the wait, sir, I'll show you what I've set aside for you today."

You take on the task of showing him a book you think would interest him, grateful for the distraction and the excuse to duck your head out of his sight, praying he hasn't heard too much of your conversation with Catelyn. The most embarrassing situation of your life.

When you slide behind the counter to collect payment, the real value of the book is replaced by one brilliant Benjamin Franklin. At first, you don't mind, taking the bill from his fingers as you politely ask, "How would you like your change back, sir?"

“Keep it,” he said with a shrug, like it was no big deal.

You paused, blinking your eyes wide. Astonished. “You don’t have to do that, sir. It’s very generous, but there’s no need.”

He just smiles, a subtle stretch of his lips, but this one is much more genuine than the others. "I insist. See you next week, princess."

Completely stunned, you split the $100 into the correct change, adding it to the tip jar. “Okay,” you murmur, touched by a stranger’s generosity.

That was until he tried it again the following week.

“Sir, I really can’t accept this,” you say firmly. “It’s very generous.”

He raises a perfectly groomed blond brow. “From what I heard last week, it sounds like you need some extra help.”

“I’m not looking for a benefactor,” you say immediately, cheeks flushing at the assurance that he had heard everything. “I don’t feel comfortable accepting that kind of money from a stranger.”

He just smiles and extends his hand. A large hand, with long fingers adorned with rings that were probably worth more than your apartment, veins high on his pale skin. “Aemond.”

"Sorry?"

“Aemond Targaryen. My name. So now we’re not strangers, right?”

You couldn't help your small laugh of disbelief, reaching out your own smaller hand to shake his. “I'm afraid that knowing your name does little to change the fact that you are a stranger to me.”

It takes him a moment to let go of your hand, and you cough a little to cover it up, shaking your head and handing the change back to him, but you can do little about the fact that he immediately puts the change in the tip jar and continues on his way to the door without saying anything else. Leaving behind only a gentle sway of his long silver ponytail down his back.

The next time he walks in, you point your finger at him threateningly, which he seems to find very amusing, if the raise of his brows and the small smile on his lips said anything. “I won’t recommend any book to you until you promise me you won’t leave me a tip, sir.”

He just tilts his head to the side. “That’s unconventional, I must say.”

You look at him with a heavy gaze, and with a sigh, he relents, raising his palms peacefully. “I promise I won’t tip you, princess. Better that way?"

You huff and turn your face so your hair covers your cheeks, to hide how red you get every damn time he calls you that way. But as you turn towards one of the shelves, you could swear you hear him laughing.

When it was time to get paid, to your relief, he actually didn't tip you. He just squints at you and says, “See you next week, princess.”

In fact, next week, Aemond returns to pay the actual value of the product, much to your peace of mind and his seemingly endless fun. And while you can control the overly generous customer – who at least now has a name – there's still the dilemma of being able to pay your rent and uni bills.

Honestly, sometimes it feels like you're going crazy.

“Yes, I still consider you one,” you state, raising an brow, your heart slightly racing as it always does in this man’s intense presence.

“Would you still say we are complete strangers to each other?” he asks you on a wednesday afternoon.

“What can I do to change this?” Aemond asks, leaning forward. That voice was like sex and sin and made the salivary glands in the back of your mouth yearn for more. He still hadn't paid for the new book – even though there was no one in row of payment, it makes you nervous, as you don't have any excuse to avoid the conversation. “Can I take you to dinner, maybe?”

You would be lying to yourself if you said you weren't tempted. But… “Honestly, Aemond, my schedule is crazy. I barely have time to eat a cereal bar, let alone go out to dinner.”

His lips twitched, as if trying not to smile. You can't even imagine what could have been amusing about what you said, but at least he finally handed you the money.

“I think I like it better when you call me sir.”

Something about the implication of those words made you feel like you'd swallowed a hummingbird, and it was still fluttering in your chest. Once again, you pray your blush isn't obvious when you hand him back his change, barely paying attention as he drops it into the tip jar and leaves.

You sigh shakily, allowing yourself to look from beneath your lashes at the man's broad back as he walks away. An arm with defined muscles is raised as his cell phone rings, straining gently against the thin, immaculately pressed white button-down shirt, the sleeves rolled up just below the elbow as the man begins talking on the phone. Silver hair swinging down the length of his back in its loose style today. Your eyes trail down his other arm which is buried deep in a dark blue pocket of expensive looking pants, pulling the material over the prettiest ass you had ever seen in your life. The man walked with a purposeful swagger that exuded so much confidence that it always left you weak in the knees.

Aemond Targaryen is an unattainable dream.

Totally out of your league.

Your heart skips a beat as you close the book cover with a loud snap, struggling to push it under your chest as you turn to look into your customer's blue eye. Aemond's smile is damning on the best of days, but directed at you now, in this specific situation, as he eclipses the soft light of the hallway entrance behind him - it makes your stomach tighten.

"What are you reading?"

You're still at work, but the book you wanted finally arrived at the store and you couldn't resist reading a little, taking advantage of the slow moving hours...

"No!" You widen your eyes and try to hold the thing in your fingers. But it's too late. Your breath catches against your chest as Aemond pulls the book up and towards him.

“A Court Of Silver Flames, hmm? Princess, I must say I didn’t know you enjoyed this kind of reading.”

You squirm in embarrassment, wanting to disappear off the face of the earth when he effortlessly opens the page you marked and were reading before he caught you in the act. Your face burns, your lips open and then close in abject horror as Aemond's single eye scans the filthy words of the book. His smile is particularly mischievous as he mutters: 'Cassian pounded into her, a hand moving from her hip to her hair, tugging her head back, baring her throat. She gave herself over to it, to him, and the lack of control was so heady, so pleasurable that she could barely stand it. He thrust harder, so deep with this angle that she might have been screaming again, she might have been crying.' - Y/N, darling...I'm blushing."

“You – this, this is none of your business.” you grumble with a frown, trying to reach for the book as he stifles a laugh at the sight of your futile effort. "Besides, I can read whatever I want. I'm an adult."

The smile slowly diminishes on his pretty lips until there is only a slightly mischievous line left, something that is hardly comforting. Dangerous. Even hungry.

"You're absolutely right." He hums slowly, closing the book and holding it out for you to take with a raise of his brow. "You're a big girl, right?" You lift your head to look at him, meeting his warm gaze. The way he asked that question, God. Low and almost animalistic, like a predator that is just stalking its prey. Playing before attacking.

You swallow hard and for a moment both just look at each other. His blue glow is dark as he studies your face with interest, searching for something you can't even begin to guess what it is. Finally, you shyly look away from him and turn to face your collection of books.

“Are you looking for anything in particular tonight, sir?” you ask, deliberately trying to change the subject, not supporting the tense atmosphere that had formed between the two of you.

He hums contently and you feel his gaze finally move away, allowing you to breathe once more. You smooth your hands over the folds of your skirt in an effort to stop the trembling in your fingers.

"Yes, actually yes. There. Pride and Prejudice, the first edition," Aemond states, bending down a little to point to one of the novels stacked among the others. “I'm looking to complete my collection of Austen's works. 'I'll be unhappy if you don't have an excellent library.'”

Oh.

“Huh, I didn’t take you as a Jane Austen type of guy,” you joke, lightly bumping your hip against the side of the bookshelf. “Although I think you can identify with some of the characters. ‘A single man possessing a good fortune’ and all that.”

He laughs softly, standing up straight and looking back at you. “What can I say? I have a bit of a weakness for classic romance.”

"You? A romantic?" You scoff playfully, rolling your eyes at him. “I would really like to see that.” your comment is provocative and amusing, spoken only to lighten the mood. But Aemond doesn't see it that way, apparently.

He stays quiet. Something undeniably shifts in the air as he slowly takes a step towards you to close the distance between the two of you. You look up at him with a shaky sigh and lean against the shelf with an awkward, unsure step as he lowers his head slightly towards you. He looks at you intently. Closely.

"You could?"

You find yourself backing further and further into the shelf behind, your breathing quickening. His arm slides to your side, pinning you against the stacks of books, the long black coat held in the crook of his other arm. You feel his all-masculine weight pressed against you. A delicious and unmistakable aroma of fresh mint, as well as something woody and earthy, envelops your senses like a soft blanket.

“M-Maybe,” you murmur, your slightly wide eyes sweeping over every inch of his inhumanly perfect face, his mysterious eye patch. His soft lips come so close to yours that you can feel him exhale. You close your eyes, preparing to feel his mouth on yours, but instead you feel his face brush against your cheek and you feel his warm breath brush past your ear.

“I could show you,” he purrs as you melt against him - like he’s not a stranger and like you’re not on your fucking work schedule. “I could take care of you, princess. In many, many ways. I would like to do that. I just do things a little...differently than the traditional way,” the last sentence leaving it like a whisper, like a secret. Every inch of your skin tingles as all of your body's feelings seem to focus on the spot between your legs. Your back arches and your nipples ache, straining where his broad chest crushes against yours. You tilt your head back, resting it on the shelf behind, exposing your neck to him. You shudder as you feel his warm bottom lip barely touching the sensitive skin there, a gentle whisper from a caring lover - or a cruel tease from a wicked man. The smallest of moans escape your lips.

And then, he stops.

Aemond straightens his posture and removes his arm from your side. The black turtleneck sweater perfectly hugs his upper body as he straightens up, the dark pants emphasizing the generous length of his legs. He runs his hand through the smooth, silver length of his hair once and takes a deep breath. As if he was seeking some sense of calm. You shiver and swallow hard, your eyes traveling over the pale expanse of his forearms exposed by the rolled-up sleeves of his sweater, the veins beneath his skin, the chain around his neck, the expensive watch on his wrist, the long fingers studded with rings...

He's so 'man' it makes your legs weak. If that made any sense.

“But don’t worry, I promise I won’t touch you until I have your legal permission. After all, we need to talk before that,” he states slowly. "Right?" his intense blue gaze refocusing on yours.

You fidget nervously against the bookshelf, playing with the hem of your skirt, your heart beating fast like the wings of a hummingbird.

"Talk about what?" You manage to ask, even though your mind is spinning at the man's unexpected proximity.

He seems to think a little.

"How have you been?" He asks genuinely after a few seconds of silence, looking at you with some concern. “Is college going well? Are you getting enough sleep?"

"Sleep? What is that?" you joke to lighten the mood, though the stern expression doesn’t leave Aemond’s face. You continue: “College is fine. I took two tests this week, but I'm satisfied with my performance. I studied a lot over the weekend.”

“Between the few breaks between working several shifts in a row, you mean,” he says, leaving no room for argument. “You really need to take care of yourself, Y/N. I'm worried about you."

You feel a small tug in your chest as you smile softly. He's worried about you. He, this man oozing wealth and experience from his pores, is thinking of you.

“I could help, you know,” he continues, staring at you and all you can see on his face is sincerity.

What is he looking for, anyway?

"Like what?" you ask, almost shaking with anticipation. You look up to meet his gaze, the air between the two of you becoming almost thick with anticipation.

“As you've probably guessed, I have an abundance of wealth,” he states matter-of-factly, as if asserting that the sky is blue, “but not much to spend it on. So I met you a few months ago." You swallow hard as Aemond continues, “The truth is, I'd like to make sure you're being taken care of, Y/N. It would mean a lot to me if you allowed me to do that."

“What do you mean,” you ask anxiously, “by 'taken care of’?”

“I want to ensure that your college expenses will be taken care of in full,” he replies confidently when you almost choke on your saliva, “both the remaining tuition and loan balance, as well as rent and any other bills you may owe. You would also receive a weekly allowance, which would allow you to just focus on finishing your course without having to work. Although I believe you enjoy working here and don't want to give up all your shifts. Anyway, that should start to cover the bases, right?"

"To start? What else could you want to say?!” you exclaim breathlessly, looking at him in disbelief.

He laughs softly, “Well, princess, there are gifts I would like to give you from time to time. I would really like to provide anything you want or need. Clothes, shoes, books,” he smiles along with the last word. “Anything that makes you happy. I want you to feel comfortable.”

You notice that your mouth has been dry, open easily for a good full minute. You urgently need a glass of water.

Why you? What does he gain from this? What does he want in return?

“And all of this would be in exchange for…?” you question, waiting for the decisive follow-up.

“Your company.” He responds, slowly and seriously. You raise an eyebrow at his response, your stomach sinking with a sensation that is both warm and cold.

The talk comes to a pause when your cell phone screams, startling you and indicating the store's closing time. You shake your head.

"I-I need to close the store. Do you mind...could you...?" Even the words are jumbled in your mind.

"Don't worry. I'll wait." Aemond smiles understandably, stepping aside so you could begin the closing routine.

The gaze is on you every step of the way, from the moment you check the cash register, to when you pick up the keys to lock the door.

“Allow me...” He whispers when you finish and grab your coat, the chilly breeze outside sending goose bumps across your skin. You nod shyly, letting him help you put on your coat, his fingers lingering a little longer than they should on your skin. "How do you plan to get home?"

Nervousness churns in your stomach as the two of you walk down the sidewalk, your hand just inches from his. The breeze hits the sensitive skin of your ears, though you can't do anything but focus on the strange wall of heat between the two of you, arms close enough to accidentally brush every now and then. Or is it on purpose?

"Uber." You answer.

"I think so. Come on, my driver will drop you off at home." He doesn't really give you time to respond, but you still gasp when you suddenly feel the gentle presence of his sizable hand on the small of your back, guiding you towards a stupidly modern black car. He nods to the driver, who politely opens the back door for the two of you to get in.

The interior of the car is cozy and as sophisticated as the outside, with a partition that separates the place where you are and the driver.

You mumble your address and Aemond repeats it to the driver, using an internal type of communication.

Aemond Targaryen is like Bruce freaking Wayne.

Not wanting to drop the previous topic, you whisper hesitantly, “So…exactly what does ‘my company’ entail in this case?”

“Of course,” he continues, chuckling lightly at you for returning to the subject of your own free will. “I would like to see you three times a week at least. Our time together will be treated with the utmost privacy. My priority is to keep you protected from the public eye. All power in this arrangement begins and ends with you, Y/N. You can choose to break the contract at any time. At that point, you can keep anything given to you, and all canceled debts will remain that way, without any refund.”

“And during the time we spent together?” you question, catching your bottom lip between your teeth.

“Any activity of a sexual nature,” he responds, his blue gaze suddenly a little darker, “will be confidential and, most importantly, consensual. I've already asked my lawyer to email you the paperwork."

How the hell did he know your email?!

His head is spinning. Paperwork? Activity of a sexual nature? This all seems intimidating, yet somehow you remain intrigued. Curious.

“Don’t worry,” he states calmly, his hand resting on top of yours. Your panic must have been noticeable. You look up and see him looking at you gently. He resumes: “Paperwork it's like a protection for both of us. It's a basic confidentiality agreement, along with some negotiation about what you would feel most comfortable with. As I said before, if you choose this, I want you to be able to leave at any time without any losses. I've seen too many relationships destroyed by fame and notoriety. I don’t want this to hurt you too.”

You can already feel like you're going to say yes.

You look at him shyly as he removes his hand and settles next to you on the bench. You remember when you felt his warm breath on your neck in the back of the bookstore. His smell. Of the silver hair. You want that if it means being with him. If it means you can prove what he can offer. And on top of all that, you would still be taken care of, your debts would be paid off, and the weight of possibly being homeless would finally be lifted from your mind and shoulders. You can feel your body practically taking advantage of the opportunity, but you hold back for one more question.

"Have you done this before?" You ask, feeling some strange kind of jealousy bubbling in your stomach. “Were there others?”

You can see some concern behind his one eye as he hesitates, but then he blinks and replies, “Yes. There were two others. The first only lasted a few months. She only agreed to the deal to get “to the top,” so to speak. As soon as I realized that she had tried to leak confidential information to the press about our relationship, I immediately terminated our agreement.”

"And the other?" You press, brow furrowed in concern.

“The second one lasted about a year,” Aemond responds. “She chose to end the arrangement out of love, after meeting her now husband. We respectfully agreed to end things so she could move forward with this connection. It’s been a few years since we split up.”

This raises another important question.

“Huh, how old are you?” you ask, tilting your head.

Aemond snorts in amusement.

"Thirty-two."

Okay, ten years apart. It is not a big deal.

“I…” you mutter thoughtfully, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“I’d like to give you some time to think about this,” Aemond suggests, as you stare at your hands. “How about 48 hours? You can review the paperwork and contact me with any questions you may have.”

You turn your head to look at him, lip between your teeth as you assess his countenance. After all, he could just be messing with you, and you could die of embarrassment if you agreed only to find out he was making fun at your expense. The heat in his gaze is unmistakable, however. It's enough to warm you deeply as you watch him watch you, his desire so palpable it leaves you breathless. Your tongue comes out to wet your lips and his eye go to your mouth.

This is the exact moment you abandon all reason and nod, a silent response to his offer of help.

“Yes,” you declare, quickly, hastily. “I mean, my answer. Yes. I'm in."

“Y/N,” he raises a blonde brow at you charmingly, something seductive behind his gaze. “I insist that you use the full 48 hours. I want to know that if you agree to this, when I have you, I will have all of you. No hesitation. Undoubtedly."

When I have you. Heat rises up the sides of your neck at the implication of those words. No hesitation.

“But -” you almost whimper, fingers tightening on the hem of your skirt.

“Y/N,” he utters in a low, deep tone, leaning toward your ear and placing a firm, warm hand on your knee. You feel goosebumps rising on the skin of your arms. "Think about it calmly. Be a good girl for me, huh?"

You freeze and a small moan leaves your lips. He smiles at you seductively, his finger brushes the soft skin of your cheek and your breath catches. His smile is almost imperceptible, but it's there. Like a feline cornering a prey.

So close you can smell his cologne again. Mint and sandalwood. You think it suits him, like a dark forest, but fresh and refined. You swallow hard, wishing that blue/violet gaze, so austere, would look anywhere else. You feel completely overwhelmed by his intensity, and he was making it impossible to think straight.

“I think you’re doing this on purpose.” You whisper into the tiny space between the two of you.

“Doing what on purpose?” He practically purrs the words.

Maybe it was the adrenaline of the situation that was coursing through your veins, but you find yourself blurting out, “Trying to make me regret your promise to keep your hands to yourself.”

His predatory expression doesn't change. "And do you regret my promise?"

It's a step too far for you to actually admit, but your silence is, in fact, admission enough. The smile that appears on his face makes you blush, especially when he leans in so close you can feel his breath, his mouth hovering right next to your ear.

“I take my promises very seriously, princess.” His voice is low, with a scratch so sensual it almost made you whimper. “So, I will keep my hands to myself until such time as our contract is properly signed. But that doesn’t mean you have to.”

You what?

He walks away with a wink, leaving you stunned as you contemplates his offer.

Would it be inappropriate to pursue something with him? It's too early? But to deny that you've wanted him from the moment he walked into the bookstore, when he seemed like a fantasy far out of your reach - would be a blatant lie. It's obvious he has money. A stupid amount of it, more than you'd see in your entire life, probably. It's also obvious that he likes you. It's not that bad to accept his stupidly luxurious gestures if you like him too, right? In a list of immoral things, don't you think this is the worst. You would not be compromising your core values.

You bite your bottom lip.

“You’re driving me crazy doing this,” he murmurs, breaking you out of your thoughts to see his gaze fixed on the way you’re biting your lip. He closes his eye for a few seconds and then looks at you again. “I have no expectations or demands for you, dear. I just want to help and enjoy the company of a beautiful woman I've admired for a long time, so I can get to know you a little better."

"How much time?" you find yourself asking.

“From the moment I walked into that bookstore and looked into those beautiful bright eyes. For your cute skirts and funny colored sweaters. You are stunning, princess.”

No one has ever described her that way.

“Tell me something about how you feel about me,” he asked; in his honeyed and serious tone. "Just one thing."

You take a deep breath to prepare yourself for the truth you've never spoken out loud before, to anyone. “I-I wait for you to come in almost every day. I know it's silly because we barely talked before, but...every time the store bell rings I look up hoping it's you, and I'm disappointed when it's not."

He digests your words calmly.

“It’s not just me then,” he breathes after a few seconds.

“No,” you whisper, barely believing it. "It is not."

You barely notice that the car is stopping, having probably already arrived at your apartment building, what has settled between the two of you is something dense and heavy, too heavy to allow you to pay attention to your surroundings. It almost feels suffocating. Your eyes meet and you almost read the challenge that shines in his. The look that seems to say: 'are you bold enough, darling?'

Really, how many times have you made the safer choice because it was convenient? Because it was less scary? You could probably count on one hand how many risks you've taken in your life and none of them had as much to gain as the risk that was currently in front of you, smiling as if he had read your decision before you even made it.

Because all it took was a single movement of his tall body to adjust himself better on the expensive upholstery of the car, and you were in his lap. "I should be worried about you putting your hands on me, apparently." He breathes a laugh.

You playfully touch the long chain resting on his chest, sliding your fingers along it until touch the fabric of the sweater collar around his neck. "Are you saying you want me to take my hands off, sir?"

He hums, slowly and low.

“Far from it, darling. I want those hands and that pretty mouth anywhere you want to put them.”

At this point, you hardly need more encouragement than that. The fabric is pulled down, revealing the pale skin of his collarbone that you immediately trace with your mouth, leaving soft stains of your strawberry lipbalm that you're sure he'd wear as badges of honor. Aemond grunts in approval, tilting his head to offer you better access to his neck, so that's where your lips meet next. Then your teeth. Then your tongue.

You can taste a slightly salty taste on his skin, almost as addictive as his cologne, which is strongest where your face presses against his pulse. Your hands search the broad expanse of his chest, feeling the hard muscles beneath his sweater. You pull away from his neck, smiling shyly at the love bite you left behind before meeting Aemond's intoxicating gaze. His hands are fisted tightly in the upholstery of the bench.

“I may have promised to behave, baby,” he reflects slowly. “But I will remember every little bruise you leave for me. Just in case I have the opportunity to pay it forward for them. So be careful right now."

You wonder, suddenly, if his fists are clenched as a form of self-control. Anticipation flows like an earthquake throughout your body.

He watches you very carefully as your smile evolves into something more teasing, something more sly and decidedly cheeky, but when you bend down to continue your bites, he clicks his tongue in the same way an adult would scold a child. A warning. A sound that begs not to be ignored. Part of you is tempted to press on, just to see what he would do, but the other...the other wants to hear him call you a good girl again. Then you blink your eyes apologetically and gently kiss the small bruise on his smooth alabaster skin.

“Good decision, baby, being a such good girl for me. I'll remember that too."

You couldn’t help but love the implication that there would be more, that Aemond was already planning what he would do to you when that happened. You have a sneaking suspicion that he won't have that much control then, a sneaking suspicion that this man definitely wouldn't take on any submissive role - in any aspect of his life.

You lean forward, fingers on the soft fabric of his sweater once again as you press open-mouthed kisses down his neck, moving up to his ear, breathing hotly against his skin until you feel him goose bumps.

You pinch his lobe. “And what do I get for being a good girl?”

His lips twitch into a teasing smile. “A bold question for someone who is supposed to be a good girl, don't you think? But you’re still learning what I like, I suppose.”

You hum something sweet and soothing, submissive. “And what exactly do you like, daddy?”

Aemond immediately goes rigid beneath you, and for a moment you panic. Were you wrong when you said that? It felt so natural that the word slipped out completely before you could think more clearly. But then Aemond practically growls as he spreads his knees beneath you, forcing you to move until you're straddling a single leg of his.

“Good girls can ride daddy’s thigh.”

He pushes his leg up until you shudder, applying pressure to your clit that almost makes you cry.

He continues, as if he isn't just rubbing the defined muscle of his thigh against your pussy. “Forgive me,” he says, his face lowering to the side of your neck, “but I have to…”

Your eyes close as he approaches. You expect to feel his lips finally meet your skin, but once again, he stops short of reaching. Instead, he inhales deeply, right under your ear.

“Vanilla,” he murmurs against your skin. You lean your head back even further, your skin begging for his touch. “And cinnamon.”

You whimper, rubbing gently against his thigh, breathless.

“You,” you whisper, pulling the hem of your skirt up, "aren't you going to kiss me?"

You watch his jaw tighten and his expression turn hard as he stares out the window for a second. “Fuck, girl. I already said that I prefer to wait until everything is resolved. I want you to be fully aware of everything this entails, everything you are getting yourself into, before you get any further involved with me.”

You can't think of anything you'd like more than to be involved in every position with him.

“But I said yes,” you lament. Driven purely by desire, you rest your hands just above both of his shoulders, lips tracing the outside of his ear. “I want you, daddy. You do not want me?"

He groans beneath you and you can feel him lift his hands, reaching out to touch you but stopping just before they come into contact with your back. Instead, he pushes them back down, one hand gripping the door handle for dear life while the other closes his fist against the seat once more.

“Yes, shit, yes” he grinds through clenched teeth. “I want you so bad, Y/N. But I can't. Not yet. I want to do this right.”

"Do you really want me?" You whimper, inches away from his mouth, pressing yourself firmly against his leg, seeking any kind of friction.

“Y/N,” he moans as you grind against him, the thin, wet cotton of your panties barely acting as a barrier between his thigh and your sex. "Can't you feel how much I want you, baby? You have no fucking idea. I want to do eviel things to your little body. I've been showing so much restraint. You can't fucking say that?"

Holy hell.

It's true, you think. You can feel him, hard and thick against his black pants, as you press into him. Your nipples harden against your breasts as you move faster, gripping the back of the seat for support as the tension builds inside you. You've never had a partner this big before and you briefly wonder if you can fit him in your mouth. You were certainly tempted to try.

"Already drooling on daddy's cock, baby?" he murmurs, noticing the look in your eyes. “My fucking God, you’re a greedy little thing, aren’t you? You barely finished riding my thigh and you already wants more."

His words make you blush. You're close, though. Especially if he keeps talking like that. The noises that escape you as you writhe against his thigh, staring at the shape of his cock and imagining what it would feel like inside you...The sounds were mortifying, to say the least, but the swirling desire in Aemond's gaze says he likes them.

Your breath begins to hitch as your pleasure gets closer and closer to that sweet pinnacle, his muscular thigh providing the perfect amount of pressure. You tilt your head back and moan, long and loud, as you snake your hand to pinch your nipple through your bra.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” he murmurs softly, his breathing only slightly uneven, but his hands are clenched painfully at his sides. “Are you going to cum like this, princess? Rubbing your wet pussy against me in the back of my car? All because you can't just wait until you sign a simple piece of paper?”

“Oh my god,” you scream silently, something thrilling about someone being mere feet away from the two of you, behind the partition, as Aemond whispers the dirtiest words into your ear.

Aemond snapped his fingers as you felt yourself reaching the edge, and it drew your attention back to him as your legs shook. His blue gaze was burning. “Look at daddy when you come get me. Say my name, baby."

“Aemond,” you moan, the word barely formed as you rub desperately against his leg. You scream as the pleasure peaks, and the warm white light of the stars floods your veins.

“Daddy,” you pant, as Aemond takes over the work for you, moving his thigh to bring you to orgasm until you half collapse against him, burying your face in his shoulder as he continues moving his leg. “S-sir, please.”

“Please what, princess?”

“It’s too much,” you complain, shaking now as Aemond begins to stimulate you right after your orgasm.

“You can do it,” he encourages. "Don't you want to be a good girl for daddy?"

“I want it,” you whimper.

He hums thoughtfully. “I know you want it, Y/N. Maybe you can do something else for daddy, then. To make up for the mess you made on my thigh.”

With his thigh pressure now easing, you could have sobbed with relief. You sit up, watching with renewed interest as he runs his fingers through the wet spot on his pants and promptly brings it to his lips.

You gasp and he sucks on his fingers with a flourish that could belong to a satisfied customer at a fancy restaurant, smiling at you. “You are absolutely delicious, baby. Exactly as I expected."

You might have fainted if you didn't feel like you were already at the point of no return.

“Now,” said Aemond, sliding the full intensity of his gaze to your parted lips. “How would you feel if you tasted daddy in return, huh?”

You had been thinking about it since the moment you saw his outline through his pants. Maybe you fell to your knees on the floor of the car with great anxiety, but you smile shyly at the way he smiles at your gesture and tells you 'what a good girl you are for doing that'. You watch as he spreads his knees and leans back, giving you wide access to his lap.

In a different context, you would have thought he looked like an idiot with a huge, self-obsessed ego. But maybe that's why you adore him, after all.

With the care of someone opening a beautifully wrapped gift, you slowly unbutton his pants and free Aemond's hardened length from his boxers. Your mouth is already watering at the sight of the pre-cum that glistens on the tip of his pink head, like a drop of water on a flower petal.

Settling comfortably between his thighs, this is the first thing you decide to taste, holding it on your tongue as if it were your personal candy. Aemond grunts, his eye squinted beside his eye patch, watching you with laser focus. You decide to stick out your tongue to proudly show off the pre-cum wetness there, humming contentedly as you hear him growl (GROWL) as you swallow and return your lips to his head.

He's even bigger than you imagined.

Working up the courage to shove him down your throat, you start by first swirling your tongue along every inch you can find, covering him with what's left of your strawberry lipbalm. The guttural noise Aemond makes in his throat is worth it, and when you deem him adequately covered in saliva, you begin the process of taking him into your mouth.

Although he hasn't expressed his direct approval yet, you already know he loves it by the involuntary twitch of his hips. With the softest smile, you wrap your fists around his base, trying to move your mouth and hand in tandem as you slowly ease him down your throat.

You pause when you're halfway through, already fighting your gag reflex. Your eyes flicker to his, feeling proud when you notice that his cheeks are slightly flushed and his breathing is faster.

“You look so pretty with your lips around my cock, baby,” he murmurs, nothing but awe in his voice. “Do you think you can take more?”

You nod, the movement making him groan as you rock a little further down his length. “That’s it, baby,” he said, moving his hips slightly to encourage you to take more. “Just relax for daddy, you’re almost there.”

He thrusts his hips, with a little more force this time, and it made you choke when he scratched the back of your throat. Aemond curses vehemently. “Fuck, baby. I love watching you choke on my cock.”

Tears well up in your eyes as you fight to relax against your gag reflex, opening your mouth as wide as you can to take the rest of him. When your nose brushes against his soft strands of light hair, and he is fully seated, Aemond delivers a dirty litany of praise that has you humming with pride.

“So good for me, girl,” he grunts, starting to thrust into your mouth. "Your sweet little mouth feels amazing around daddy's cock."

You hum in agreement, because every time you do it seems to draw a string of curses from Aemond. He's fucking into your mouth with abandon now, and you've done your best to keep your jaw open and tongue relaxed. Although every time you choke, he seems to love it. And you start drooling down your chin, messing up the leather seat below - he seems to love that too.

“Fuck, I’m going to cum,” he warns, his voice rough. “Swallow for daddy like a good girl.”

You comply readily, holding his dark gaze as he spills his release down your throat. You take extra care to make sure not a drop spills, and when he withdraws, you extend your clean tongue to him, making him chuckle with something akin to affection.

“That was amazing, baby,” Aemond whispers, voice softening. He leans forward as if he's going to kiss you, but hesitates. Instead, he offers you a smile. "You did so well."

You're not sure how much time passes as he pulls you to lie against his broad, warm chest, but your post-orgasm haze is broken at some point when you mutter that you really need to go upstairs and feed your cat - the grumpy little creature already must be scratching all your furniture demanding food.

Aemond smiles softly against your hair and gently lifts you off his lap and sets you aside as he gets out of the car. You try to compose yourself to a point before he opens the door and holds out his hand to help you. As you do, you avoid his gaze, starting to feel some sort of embarrassment at your behavior in the backseat before he lifts your chin with a finger.

“Thank you,” he says gently, “for sharing this with me. I hope it happens again someday.”

You blush as he presents his arm for you to hold. He walks you down the walkway to the door of your building and looks at you again.

“Think about it, Y/N,” he states with a warm gaze on you. “48 hours, minimum. Regardless of how you decide to proceed then, know that I enjoyed every minute I spent with you.”

“I promise, I’ll think about it,” you say sincerely. You marvel at the length of his eyelashes as he looks down at you, how they almost brush his pointy cheekbone. The icy breeze swayed the long length of his silver strands around his face and shoulders.

He's beautiful.

“Thank you,” he smiles modestly, delivering you to your door. “Good night, Y/N. Get some sleep, please?"

“I’ll try,” you respond, standing on your tiptoes to press a chaste kiss to his cheek. A small expression of surprise crosses his face as you turn to open the door. “Good night, Aemond.”

He raises an brow and twists his lips sarcastically and you struggle to hold back a smile as you close the door.

Your bright, deep eyes dance across your eyelids as you try to fall asleep that night.

Like a good girl.

Tagging: @croatianprincess @delilah1990 @fan-goddess @hanihoney88 @supmymainhuman @navyblue-eternity @gothicxs @toodlesxcuddles @loving-enemy @ostricx @azperja @echos-muses @thedamewithabook @schniiipsel @snowprincesa1 @nezzlysixx @maximizedrhythms @maviee @ammo23 @dark-night-sky-99 @deeeeexx @hotdsworld @darylandbethfanforever9 @malfoytargaryen @qyoquixote @pick95 @moonxhunt @tired-ninfa @fcbformulaeri @daydreamy-me @vyctorya @lovelymoonkiid @babyblue711 @zondereleutheromania @diosademuerte @spookymicrowave @wintrr13 @namelesslosers @chainsawangel @beautbuck @arcielee @ratfromdeepspace @brianochka @greenowlfactif @qyburnsghost @rwdkarla @dontforgetoctober3rd @violetexpress1

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HOTD Modern AU where everyones dragons are some kind of reptile or amphibian.  Sooo, I finally gathered the courage to add my own stuff to the HOTD fandom, lol. I love reptiles, specifically Komodo dragons, I’ve made like 3 different college projects with them and it was impossible for me to not see Vhagar as one, I’ve seen other really good takes with old grandma V being a snapping turtle, an alligator and so on, and then I decided to imagine my own modern AU were all the Targaryan dragons in HOTD are some kind of reptile pet! -Because Targ shenanigans they do have a special bond with their reptile friend (Thats the only way you get a croc and a Komodo to dont eat you, lol). -The dragon keepers are a special reptile breeder company, the Targs are like one of their most important clients . -To add more lore and stuff I like the idea of them living in a made up european country called Valyria, like Genovia from the princess diaries, or at least just a modern westeros and Valyria being their something something big company where they work. -If they live in Valyria they do have the monarchy problems, but without the murder plis, Aegon ll its like fuck you all and runs away to Italy or France and starts a wine company called “The usurper” xD.  -Because I like Jacegon, Jace goes along with him so he doesn’t die from bad decisions and because I think he’ll be more reliable with the new company stuff hahahahaha, Aegon just tests the wine ok 😂?  -Lucerys its also like, the crown? No thanks, and goes to college to study literature, also in the some college as Aemond, who’s in a History major, they’re roommates 👀. -Joffrey its even less interested in the crown and decides to help his grampa Corlys with Driftmark. -I’m mexican, I dont know how Dukedoms and all that fancy european stuff works, Driftmark can be one of those or something, I’ll do some research after the reptile drawings ok xD? -That way the crown can go to little Aegon the younger without anybody dying yay. -Rhaenyra its not that ok with this, but she loves her kids, and hopes little Egg doesn’t run away too…. Im just starting with my favorite incest deranged couple, Lucemond 😚. I think its obvious this is not completed at all 😅, but I was really exited about it and wanted to talk about it after being working on it all day 😄.

More stuff about the not dragons! -They can’t live the hundreds of years of the dragons, so lets make them live as long as their owner lives, an average 80-90 years, for this HC sake hahahaha, specially because turtles, komodos and crocs are able to live long lives too! So lets make all the other special Targ reptiles/amphibians live longer too 😝. -This makes Grandma V, Vhagar ll, because Vhagar l was Visenya’s, when Laena dies in some kind of accident Aemond claims Vhagar ll so she doesn’t die, specially because she wasn’t that old then, wiki says Laena dies at 27, I havent thought that much about what happens in the Driftmart incident, but something happens 👀! -Then the Viserys l Balerion it’s Balerion ll too! Vissy T gets to keep his croc and makes him an awesome enclosure, lol. Alicent never goes there 😂, but Viserys likes to see when the servants feed him or to just chat with his friend, he has this really nice enclosure like in the zoos where you can go like underground and see them swim.

-Helaena’s kids can have little geckos or something cute like that, I need to think about it 🤔.

-Im not very sure about Caraxes being a red Tegu, they’re awesome, but I don’t know if I should make him be something else, any thoughs anyone 🤔? If you have any other ideas that are different from the ones I have so far let me know 😉!! The only ones that Im very sure about are Vhagar and Arrax, I’m really in love with the idea, and I also like them all being something different, except for Silverwing and Vermithor uwu.

HoTD  Modern AU

Daemon/Rhaenyra--Mr and Mrs Smith

HoTD Operation Paperclip AU

The Targaryens are a family of German scientists and engineers settled in the US after the Second World War. The family consists of Viserys, his wife Aemma, their baby Rhaenyra and Daemon, Viserys’s younger brother. An older cousin, Rhaenys, left Germany before the war with an American naval attache of German extraction, Corlys Velaryon. Otto Hightower, Dr Mellos and Tyland Lannister are the men in charge of this operation. 

Alicent Hightower lives with her aunt in Queens, New York. Ever since her brother, Gwayne, moved out for college, Alicent was sure she would follow him his footsteps. Everything was great, she got an internship at the Daily Bugle and was acing all her classes, then her uncle, Ormund, died. Now she can't let the same thing happen to anyone else. It seems it was fate that the spider bit her that day.

Spiderwoman: Secret Identity Alicent Hightower

Rhaenyra Targaryen lives with her single father in New York City. While being the daughter of a police officer is not always easy, it has its perks which include being treated like a princess by the NYPD. Rhaenyra just hopes to have a good school year, maybe join a band to show off her drumming skills, or perhaps take up ballet again. The only thing is she's been feeling a bit off since some spider bit her. But it shouldn't be anything important.

Ghost Spider: Secret Identity Rhaenyra Targaryen

"Who are you?" "Spiderwoman. And you?" "Ghost Spider." "Either you stole my style or something happened with a radioactive spider, I don't know which I prefer."

What the Queens in my fic "A Targaryen Type of Madness" would do if they lived in the modern era

Rhaenyra Targaryen

After the toxic relationships she's had, Rhaenyra decided to take a step back and focus on being alone for a while. She focuses on her career as a business CEO and being there for her children. Robb would act as a father figure to her and convince her to work on herself for a while. She followed his advice, developing a a hobby as an amauter historian on Old Valyria. Criston and her are close friends, grabbing a drink from the pub every now and again.

Alicent Hightower

Intially not wanting to divorce, Alicent was evenutally persuaded by friends that her marriage wasn't healthy for her or her children. Despite still holding feelings for her ex, she spends her time and energy on her children. She works as a lawyer due to her driven and somewhat calculating nature. Her love of poetry has expanded to her writing full length manuscripts which Lenora has been begging for her to publish. She remains close with her brother Gwayne and visits him often with her four children.

Lenora Strong

Following her divorce, Lenora would devote her time and energy to raising her three sons. She would become a soccer mom type, always taking them to whatever clubs or extracurriculars they would sign up for. She would also spend most weekends visiting her father Lyonel and brothers, Harwin and Larys. She works as a teacher because she loves helping others and adores children. She struggles with doing things for herself and has been convinced by her friend, Alicent, to take up Zumba classes for fun.

Dyanna Tully

Following her divorce, Dyanna got remarried to Gwayne Hightower two years later. This was a slightly controversial decision in the eyes of others but she doesn't let this affect her as she was finally married to someone she loved. Given that Dyanna didn't have much work experience she bounced from job to job while keeping up with her hobby of horseback riding. Eventually, she and Gwayne bought a ranch, where she now works. She continues to raise her children and visits her nephew, Elmo Tully, as well as Lenora and Alicent, at least once a month.

Teddy's Masterlist

House of the Dragon/ASOIAF

Rhaenicent fanfics

A Targaryen Type of Madness (finished series)

Rhaenyra Targaryen always had a hint of madness in her, though it would take many years for its extent to be realized.

The Madness of Dragons (ongoing series)

After six years, the heirs of the Iron Throne have come out of hiding and want to reclaim their birthright. The dragons will dance as war breaks out between Queen and Heirs. Continuation of A Targaryen Type of Madness.

Last Christmas (on hiatus)

Last Christmas Alicent Hightower gave Rhaenyra Targaryen her heart, but the very next day everything fell apart. This year to save herself from tears, Alicent vows to avoid her at their family's Christmas vacation. Will Alicent keep her vow? Or will her heart be broken again?

Underneath the Veil of Hatred (finished series)

Princess Rhaenyra gives birth to a third child, a son with brown hair and dark eyes. The realm believes the child's true father to be the Princess' sworn sword, Harwin Strong. Queen Alicent Hightower orders to the child be brought to her.

Good Luck Egg (ongoing series)

Jace Targaryen was one of the eldest siblings of his two mothers and when he found out they would be having yet another child he was both excited and nervous. His baby brother, Egg, would have to navigate life through their crazy family so as any good brother would do he started creating video diaries to give him advice for the future. Based on Good Luck Charlie.

The Dance of the Dragon and the Tower (finished one shot)

The Queen appears in a shocking green dress and the Princess seems to feel a certain way about it.

We Always Burn (finished one shot)

Rhaenyra Targaryen is sure she knows what she wants until it comes crashing down after an encounter on the beach of Driftmark.

When the World is Ending (finished one shot)

In a post-Zombie Apocalyptic world, Rhaenyra ventures to find a compound and the one within it.

Aegon the 3rd x Jaehaera fanfics

Night Talks (finished one shot)

Jaehaera awakes to find her husband gone from their bed, she finds him and they share a moment where they believe just maybe things will be alright.

Just a Man (finished one shot)

When Aegon falters his queen is always there by his side.

A Small Piece (finished one shot)

Jaehaera wonders if her husband loves her, and his response surprises her.

A Question (finished one shot)

Jaehaera asks her husband a question that brings up old feelings.

Non-Pairing fics

The Bastard Boy of Dragonstone (ongoing series)

A boy from Dragonstone claims a dragon and to keep things hidden Viserys legitimatizes him as a Targaryen. However, no one knows who this boy is or what his intentions are.

A Welcome to Dorne (finished one shot)

Meria Martell greets Rhaenys Targaryen when she lands in Dorne.

Long Live the King (finished one shot)

King Viserys the 1st was found murdered in chambers, while there were many theories no one truly knows what occurred that dark night. Inspired by Murder on the Orient Express.

Mercy (finished one shot)

Daeron Targaryen receives news about his nephew Maelor from Bitterbridge.

Credit to @moonshine999 for the mood boards/dividers. Also, check out my AO3 :)

Mama Mia! Rhaenicent AU

Don't have any story behind it, just vibes🏖️🌊👰