Emilia Clarke

Grumbling to himself, Jack sat up in his bed, glancing at the television. "Everything okay, babe?" the brunette behind him purred, sitting up along with him, stroking his neck. Waving his hand in dismissal, the girl pouted, disappointed. "Really? You don't want another round?" she tried once more, cupping her bare breasts together and biting her lip. "Not right now," Jack replied flatly, leaning over to grab his shirt, pulling it back on. "Go get me breakfast," he added, glancing back to the girl who hastily nodded, staggering from the bed to the floor, making her way through to the kitchen, entirely nude. Fucking random girls had been fun at first, but it quickly lost it's charm; Jack wanted to hunt some bigger game.

Picking at his food lazily, Jack frowned. No matter how great his powers were, he was still unable to make his girls cook any better. Deciding he ought to enthral a personal chef at a later date, Jack pushed his half-eaten breakfast away, making his way out into the hall. Pulling his jacket on, he called back through the house before leaving. "I'm heading out for a few days. Keep the house clean," he ordered before heading outside.

As he made his way through the city, one particular billboard kept finding it's way to Jack's gaze. The final season of Game of Thrones was on it's way, and while it couldn't come soon enough, a certain Targaryen's face made the wait far more pleasant.

After years of resisting the urge to claim a woman as desired as Emilia Clarke as his own, Jack's will was weakening somewhat. Today was the day it finally broke. Throwing caution to the wind, he admired the woman's face in the advert once more, vowing the next time he saw it, she'd belong to him; the mother of dragons would be his.