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aemondsbabe · 5 months

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The Gods and Everyone

summary: you and aemond sorely overestimate how much time you have before a small council meeting, which leaves the two of you in quite a scandalous predicament

pairing: aemond targaryen x reader

warnings: mature/explicit, 18+ (minors dni!), no use of y/n, afab reader, cockwarming, public sex, slight breeding kink, fingering, aemond being an absolute menace, dirty talk, aegon being a little shit but what else is new, let me know if i missed anything!

word count: 5.6k

a/n: based on an anon request for cockwarming! i hope you're still with me and that you enjoy this, friend! sorry it took me so long to get to it!

creds to @bbygirl-aemond for the gif!

likes, comments, & reblogs are very appreciated but never required!

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You watch, concerned, as your husband flits around the Small Council chamber, your eyes following his lithe form as he checks and re-checks the parchment with notes he had written for himself earlier that morning – you’d awoken in the pale hour just before sunrise to see him already hunched over the small desk in your chambers, scribbling away furiously with a quill, his pale hair glowing in the dim light of the candle next to him. All of your attempts to lure him back into bed with you had fallen on deaf ears.

“You know you needn't do all this,” you point out, perched against the Small Council table, your eyes tracking him as he paces back and forth across the space, going over his notes for the upteenth time, “Your only job is to be on time like everyone else, husband.”

“Things will improve with time,” he rushes out, fixing you with a pointed look, “Hardly two moons have passed since Viserys…” He pauses, pinching the bridge of his nose, “The least I can do is ease this transition for Aegon and mother.”

“My love, it is a transition for us all,” you soothe, striding to him and gently taking his hand. His fingers, rough from all his years of training with swords and spears, instantly wrap around your own as he lets out a tired sigh, “You included. Aegon named you Master of War, not master of everything.”

“I know,” Aemond murmurs, eye softening as his gaze traces over you, “I find it hard to be still when there is so much chaos – Dorne has yet to be subdued and there are whispers of rebellion from the North. There is so much still to be accounted for.”

“I understand,” you reassure him, your fingers threading through his long, silvery hair, lips quirking into a smile as the gesture makes his eye flutter closed for a second. “But all this stress cannot be good for you, husband,” you sigh, gazing up at him with a mournful smile, “You need rest and calm and…and I need you.” You nearly whisper, blush creeping across your cheeks as Aemond’s eye darkens.

“Sweetling—“ He starts with a sigh.

“Aemond, please,” you cut him off, wrapping your arms around his trim waist as you lay your head against his chest, his heart thumping in your ear, “I cannot bear to hear another excuse, I feel as if you have been away for weeks.”

He’s quiet for a moment, wrapping his long, lean arms tightly around you as he rests his chin on your head, your breaths the only sound in the stony chamber. “I’m sorry,” he finally whispers, smoothing a hand up and down your back, “I miss you too, my sweet girl.”

You hum, leaning further into his embrace after going without it for so long, “You haven’t touched me in weeks.” You say quietly, his touch already igniting a spark in the pit of your stomach.

“Perhaps tonight,” his breath is warm against the top of your head as he speaks into your hair, “I will try to cut my meeting with–”

“You’ve been saying that for weeks,” you cut him off once more with a sigh, pulling back to look up at him, “I can’t take anymore, my love, I need to feel you.” You whine, nearly petulant like a spoiled child. If it were any other time, if you were any less desperate, you’d be embarrassed at your behavior. Right now, though, you could not find it within yourself to care as you stared into your husband’s darkened eye, finally feeling the passion you had gone so many weeks without.

Aemond chuckles as he looks down at you, conflicted between feeling pleased to see you reduced to such a state while also feeling a similar fire in his own belly. “Sweetling, the meeting–”

“Is not due to start for at least another hour!” You interrupt, determined to persuade him to this. Taking you in various parts of the Keep was not new to him, both of you had plenty of memories from your courtship and first year of marriage of rutting together in all sorts of nooks and crannies of the old castle.

Aemond gazes at you for a long moment, an unreadable expression on his face, though his eye remains dark with desire. After a second, he nods to himself almost imperceptibly, seeming to come to some decision you weren’t privy to. Finally, finally his lips descend upon yours as he sweeps you into an all-consuming kiss, his arms tightening around your waist as he pulls you to him, groaning lowly in his throat as he licks into your mouth. You shiver in his grasp, finally tasting him properly after so long as you whimper and whine into his mouth.

“Aemond,” you gasp as you finally part from him, mewling as he immediately trails kisses down your jaw, “What–”

“Seems I can never deny you for very long, sweetling,” he huffs, halfway laughing as he guides you over to the large table, pulling you up by the waist until you’re sitting on the cool stone table, your legs bracketing his trim waist, “I’ve missed you too, my love.” He confesses, sweeping a lock of hair from your shoulder before trailing kisses up across your neck and jaw, one hand already desperately pulling up the bottom of your gown.

You huff out small moans and whimpers, relishing his warm touch. His nimble fingers finally manage to undo the knot at the front of your smallclothes and he tugs them down quickly, leaving you bare for him under your skirts as they fall to a pile on the floor just beside his chair at the table.

“Husband,” you pant, tugging at the drawstrings at the top of his trousers, “Please, please do not make me beg today, I–” Your train of thought is cut off as a moan, louder than it should be given the location, tears itself from your throat when you feel his long fingers ghost over your center.

“Shh, darling,” Aemond grins as he feels your arousal immediately coat his fingers, a pleased hum emanating from deep in his chest as he feels it already coating the insides of your thighs as well, “I don’t have the patience to restrain myself today, sweet one,” he mutters, watching your face carefully as he spreads your folds and teases your entrance with a finger before carefully sliding it in, groaning with satisfaction at the feel of your walls already tightly clamping down on it, “Nor the time.” He adds with a slight smirk, pale hair cascading like a curtain down his shoulders as he leans his forehead against yours.

“Oh, Gods,” you whimper, eyes fluttering shut as your hands white knuckle the dark leather of his tunic, too uncoordinated with lust to manage the ties on his pants, “M-My love, more please!” You whisper, angling your hips to try and catch another of his fingers.

You hear him chuckle above you before he pulls his finger from you, smirking as you whine pitifully at the loss. Before you have a chance to protest, he quickly undoes his trousers, not bothering to pull them down at all and opting to merely loosen the laces at the front enough to free his cock. Your eyes widen as you watch his hand stroke over his length momentarily, taking in the way it already throbs in his grasp, the head flushed and leaking from merely having you in his hands once more.

“Ready, sweetling?” He asks, gently tilting your chin up as he captures your lips in a sweet kiss, his other hand positioning his length at your entrance.

You part from him and nod eagerly, widening your legs and angling your hips, “I’ve been ready for you for weeks, Aemond.”

He smiles softly, pressing one more kiss against your neck before finally pressing into you, growling as he sinks into your slick heat. “Seven,” he grunts, cradling the back of your head with one hand as his other slinks down to grab at your hip, “You feel better every time, sweetling.”

You moan hotly against his shoulder, sinking your teeth into the thick leather of the shoulder of his tunic in an attempt to quiet yourself. Your eyes squeeze shut at the feel of him sliding into you, filling you to the brim perfectly. You’ve been without him for so long that he feels enormous, your walls aching as he stretches you out, pressing in and in until he’s finally seated fully within you.

Without another word, Aemond started thrusting into you, slow at first but quickly picking up the pace with every firm roll of his hips into you. After only a moment, he’s already grunting like a madman into your ear, holding you to him even as you cling tightly to his shoulders yourself, your legs wrapped loosely around his waist.

You feel a fire building in your belly at a breakneck pace as he ruts into you, the hand on your hip no doubt leaving fingerprint bruises across your skin, even through the fabric of your gown. If the low groans from your husband are any indication, he isn’t doing much better. He threads his fingers through your hair, pulling you into a desperate kiss, teeth and tongues clashing together frantically as if the two of you are trying to fall into each other, to become one.

“My love, I—,” he pants against your lips, jerking your head back by the grip he has on your locks. His eye meets yours, the light lilac almost entirely eclipsed by his pupil as he stares at you hungrily, “It’s been so long, I don’t know how long I can last.”

His breath is warm as it fans over your lips and you nod dazedly, zings of pleasure radiating up your spine from Aemond’s grip in your hair only adding to the warmth quickly threatening to overtake you. “It’s okay,” you swallow thickly, eyes already rolling back with pleasure, “I can’t either.”

Nodding in return, he picks up the pace, the head of his cock rutting against the most sensitive spot within you hard enough to make you see stars. He hasn’t even needed to tease your pearl and you’re already nearly unraveling as Aemond mumbles nearly incoherent praises, the hand on your hip traveling lower, nearly cupping your ass.

Just as you’re about to warn him of your inevitable release, muffled voices sound from behind the thick wooden doors that lead into the Small Council chambers. Aemond slows within you as both of your heads swivel to the doors — just in time to hear the guards stationed outside begin to tug them open.

You freeze, eyes widening as the doors open, seemingly in slow motion. Thankfully, your husband moves quickly enough for the both of you, nimbly scooping you into his arms before hastily dropping down into his chair, hurriedly scooching it forward until both of your laps are hidden under the stone surface of the table, before kicking your smallclothes under the table at the last second.

Your head whips around to face Aemond and you give him a panicked, wide-eyed look just as people start filing into the room, unaware that you’re still being split open by your husband’s length. One hand, still on your hip, tightens, silently commanding you to be still as his lilac eye pleads the same; his other hand is already poised on the table, relaxed against the cool surface as if he doesn’t have a care in the world.

“Yes, yes, we must certainly ask him once he’s back in King’s Landing,” Lord Tyland’s voice fills the chamber as he walks in, engaged in a conversation about something or other with Lord Corlys, the two sharing a laugh before finally taking notice of you and Aemond, “Prince, princess.” Tyland bows his head at the two of you with Corlys following soon after.

You sit frozen atop your husband, gazing blankly at the two men without a word. Thankfully, Aemond has the presence of mind to bow his head politely, though he stays quiet. As they walk further into the room, you can only see Tyland and Corlys from the corner of your eye but you don’t miss the odd look they share, silently asking each other why you were present and certainly why you were sitting on Aemond’s lap. Blood rushes to your head so quickly you feel lightheaded, your cheeks stinging as a harsh blush quickly appears on your face from their attention.

Maester Orwyle files through the doorway next, doing a double take at you and Aemond before bowing his head, a gesture that you thankfully remember to return this time as you stiffly nod your head. Thankfully, the older man simply takes a seat at his place at the table without any comment, though you can hear the two other men speaking quietly in the corner of the room, throwing glances your way as they do.

Your walls tighten around Aemond’s length as the rest of you tenses up when Larys creeps in, leaning against his cane as he moves; Aemond thighs tense underneath you as you hear him suck in a breath, only slightly more hasty than normal — the hand in your hip tightens, warning you to keep it together.

“Prince Aemond, princess,” Larys nods as he approaches the table, “To what do we owe the pleasure of such… intriguing company?” He questions, tilting his head as he narrows his eyes ever so slightly, his eyes bouncing between you and Aemond.

Your head spins as you stare straight ahead, willing yourself to respond, to say anything, to appear somehow normal. Yet, nothing comes out as your center throbs uselessly around Aemond, your head cloudy with need as your eyes stare ahead blankly, though registering just enough to pick up on the small smirk playing at the corners of Larys’s lips.

“My wife appears to have taken ill this morning,” Aemond drawls from over your shoulder while affectionately petting your waist, a gesture entirely for show, a lie to placate the men in the room, but it comforts you nonetheless. He clears his throat before continuing, the only tell thus far that your warmth around him is affecting him at all, “My presence brings her great comfort, I see no reason why she should be without it.”

“I see,” Larys hums in response, his dark eyes sweeping over your form, sparkling ominously as if he knows the truth, “What shame, let us hope the Gods grant you reprieve from this…illness soon, princess.”

“Yes!” You finally squeak, snapping back to attention as Aemond just barely squeezes your side, “Yes, let’s hope so. Thank you, Lord Larys.” You breathe, managing a smile small.

You shift on your husband’s lap and immediately you know you’ve made a mistake as the head of his cock prods directly into that overly sensitive patch within you, nearly making you topple over on the spot as a small groan escapes you. Blessedly, you have enough presence of mind to cover it up with a cough, sparks jolting down your back as Aemond presses a soft kiss to your cheek, one of his hands coming up to rub soothing circles against the back of your shoulder.

“There, there, sweetling,” he says softly, again, entirely for show as you put on your best performance, “Once the meeting is over, we will have the servants make some tea for you, that will help with that cough.” Even if it was for show, you couldn’t help but shiver at Aemond’s low voice, at how he’s being so soft and caring with you. That, combined with the incessant prodding to your sweet spot, has you throbbing around him, your heart hammering in your chest. You can hear Aemond suck in another barely there gasp behind you, a groan low enough to remain silent rumbling against your back while at the same time his hand almost imperceptibly twitches on the table; his composure makes you feel all the more lightheaded, blushing somehow deeper at the fact that he’s taking you apart this easily without so much as moving a muscle. Your thighs trembled atop his lap, the insides already sticky with your arousal as you struggled to stay still, silently thanking the Gods that at least your laps were hidden.

“I’m sorry,” Corlys began, striding over from his spot in the corner with a sheepish look, “I really feel I must speak up, this is really most unusual.” He finishes through an awkward laugh, Tyland following closely behind him as they saddle up to the table.

“What is most unusual?” Alicent asks, entering the Small Council chambers with Otto, followed closely after by Aegon and Ser Criston. Her eyes sweep over the room, pausing when she sees you, though she quickly corrects herself with a soft smile. “Ah, my dear,” she nods hello to the various men in the room before sitting at the table, “May I ask why your wife joins us, Aemond?” She peers at him curiously, throwing a nervous glance at Aegon who is smirking far too much for her liking as he slinks up to the table.

“It seems the princess has fallen ill, your grace,” Larys answers quickly, slyly smiling as he turns to face the dowager queen, “Prince Aemond insisted she stay so that she may be…comforted.” You quickly look away from him as his eyes meet yours once again, piercing through you as though he can see directly through your gown.

“Yes, which is most odd,” Tyland butted in, throwing glances between you, Aemond, Alicent, and Aegon, “She is not a member of the council, she should not be present. Surely there is some way the princess could be comforted that does not involve being privy to government matters.”

Aemond stays silent behind you, glaring daggers at Aegon over your shoulder, watching carefully as he traipses over to the table and stands at its head, his eyes never straying from his brother’s as they stare one another down. The other members, some reluctantly, take their places at the table as well, each of them standing so long as Aegon does, though you and Aemond remain seated; your eyes never stray from the marbled surface of the table.

“Aemond, please,” Otto sighs from his place next to you, “The least you and the princess could do is stand for–”

“I see him everyday,” Aegon interjects, breaking eye contact with your husband as he rolls his eyes, “I don’t give a shit if the fool stands.”

Your eyes dart up at that, shocked that Aegon isn’t taking the chance to thoroughly humiliate Aemond by putting him on the spot. The king’s violet eyes meet yours, sparkling with a mischief that makes your center flutter around your husband’s length – Aegon’s smirk grows as if he knows exactly what just happened. A thin sheen of sweat makes you feel clammy as Aemond’s cock twitches inside of you, pushing him against your sweet spot all the more.

“Very well,” Alicent swiftly cuts in, determined to keep the peace, “Shall we get st–”

“Are we really going to allow for the presence of–” Corlys starts, only to be viciously cut off.

“She stays,” Aegon says flatly, shooting a bored look at the man, “If anyone has an issue with the princess’s presence they may take their leave.” His violet eyes pass over the room, almost daring anyone to move. Everyone remains still, though you can feel Tyland and Corlys glaring at the side of your head, and after a moment, Aegon takes his seat followed by everyone else; blessedly, the meeting finally begins.

The Small Council meeting drones on and on, with various conversations of coin and ships, concerns abroad in Essos, and other diplomatic matters that mean nothing to you. In the back of your mind, you know it’s hardly been any time at all but it feels like an eternity has passed with Aemond’s hard length still piercing into you, twitching against your pulsing walls every so often. A part of you wonders if he does it on purpose, gives you just enough stimulation to cruelly tease you before going stock still once more.

The small, unnoticeable to everyone but you, hitches of his breath tell you otherwise and deep down, you know he’s just as affected as you, no doubt steadily leaking into you, though you dare not consider the thought for very long.

“Aemond,” your breath catches in your throat as Otto directs his attention to your husband, everyone else's gaze quickly following, “Any further communications from Dorne?”

Behind you, your husband clears his throat and you feel him shift beneath you, sitting up slightly straighter in his seat, both hands now clasping your waist to keep you steady on top of him. “Negotiations with the Dornish remain stagnant,” he begins as you practically wilt on his lap, the added attention from the council members making the knot in your belly tighten in a way you shudder to consider, “We received a raven from Prince Qoren some days ago rejecting any dealings with the crown, no matter the amount of coin we have to offer.” He finishes, pointedly looking at Tyland, who proceeds to butt in.

As soon as the attention shifts off of the two of you, it’s like the air around Aemond changes, becoming charged all of a sudden as you feel his chest heave against your back. At the other end of the table, Tyland begins to raise his voice, debating hotly with Corlys and Otto, drawing the attention of everyone else to them.

“Do you think you can be still?” Aemond whispers, his breath hot against your ear although his voice is barely audible even to you. He must sense you freeze on his lap as the hand on your hip begins to move slowly, dragging your skirts up your legs until his hand can slip underneath them, making you tremble as he grips the soft skin of your thigh, “Tighten around my cock if you can be still.”

Against your better judgment, you do as he says, tensing as you clench your walls around him; his only reply is a low growl against your back. He stays still for a moment, trying with all of his might to appear as if he’s taking great interest in the ongoing argument taking place.

Finally, once he’s positive everyone is too preoccupied arguing over coin to pay attention to either of you, his deft fingers slip through your folds before finally twirling against your aching pearl.

You have to bite harshly at the inside of your cheek to keep quiet, trying to keep your breathing steady as you focus on not moving even though you so badly want to rut your hips against his fingers as they rub against you.

Aemond swallows thickly behind you as he slowly circles his fingers, careful to keep his pace light and steady to not stir up any slick sounds from your wet cunt, though he longs to hear them.

Your elbows rest against the top of the table, your hands clasped tightly in front of you. The conversation around you seems to shift as Otto begins prattling on about some Tyrell woman finally being with child. Aemond’s fingers suddenly pinch at your sensitive bud and a gasp tumbles past your lips before you can stop it, drawing everyone’s attention.

“Is everything alright, princess?” Alicent questions from across the table, her dark eyes narrowed with concern.

You nod quickly, coughing to conceal a moan as you open your mouth to answer her, “Y-Yes, I’m sorry,” you apologize with a weak smile, “I’m just so pleased for the Tyrells, what a j-joyous time this must be for them.” You say quickly, stumbling over the words as your core clenches tightly around your husband’s cock, his small touches driving you steadily to your peak despite the circumstances.

Alicent gives you a curious look before quickly collecting herself, “Yes, I’m sure the family is quite thankful, children are always such a blessing,” she smiles politely before turning back to her father, “Please, continue.”

Otto’s voice hardly reaches your ears as he picks up where he left off, though you don’t miss the horribly put out looks you garner from Tyland and Corlys.

Aemond’s fingers just barely speed up as they swirl over your bud, though the small change is enough to drive you wild and you can feel the way his chest heaves against your back as your walls twitch around his length, threatening to milk his cock dry without him having to move an inch.

The heat that has slowly been building within you finally begins to bubble over and your husband’s fingers show no signs of stopping as he pushes you closer and closer to your breaking point. The hand of his that has been resting idly on the table top comes over to casually rest against your clenched hands and rubs soothingly up and down your forearm, Aemond’s silent way of telling you he knows you’re close.

Your eyes flick around the room as you feel your peak threatening to spill over you, frantically checking for any onlookers at the last possible second. You nearly jump out of your skin as your eyes finally land on Aegon, only to find him already staring at you, an amused smirk plastered across his face as he studies you.

Aemond chooses that exact second to pinch at your pearl again and the small touch is your undoing. Your teeth bite down firmly on your tongue as your walls pulse rhythmically around your husband’s leaking cock, your eyes still locked on Aegon’s violet ones, now darkened with lust.

Your muscles tense up as you peak helplessly, waves of pleasure lighting up every nerve ending within you. Somehow, you find it within yourself to remain quiet and still on Aemond’s lap as your eyes finally flick away from his older brother’s and you gaze, apparently absentmindedly, at some point on the wall on the opposite side of the room as your high subsides.

Thankfully, Aemond takes pity on you and slips his hand away, his wet fingers resting gently in your bare thigh, still underneath your gown.

You slowly come down from your high as the Small Council winds down, Aegon and Otto quickly discussing a few final points before the king formally adjourns the meeting. Tyland and Corlys practically bolt from their chairs, quickly bowing before they exit as they mumble between themselves, no doubt about the displeasure of your presence.

Otto and Maester Orwyle take their leave soon after, each bowing politely. Aegon busies himself at the head of the table, leaning back in his chair as he lazily sips from his wine cup, the gleam in his eyes making you shiver.

Across the room, Alicent and Larys whisper between themselves. Strangely, your mother-in-law blushes, shaking her head suddenly and mumbling a quiet, “Not here,” before glancing around the room.

Larys merely shrugs, turning to you as he shuffles from the room, “Do get better soon, princess.” He says with a feeble bow, although the look on his face makes you blush heavily.

At that, Alicent turns to Aegon, “Would you care to come see the children with me?”

“Go on,” he dismisses her before nodding toward you and Aemond, “I wish to have a word with my brother.” He catches your eye with a quick wink.

“Of course,” Alicent mutters, glancing curiously between the three of you, “I’ll ask the maids to bring some tea to your chambers this evening, princess. They make a wonderful lemon one that always seems to lift my spirits.” She says with a kind smile, coming around to place a comforting hand on your shoulder before she too heads to the door.

“Thank you!” You breathily call after her, voice squeaking at the end as Aemond shuffles impatiently beneath you, his cock still prodding against your sensitive walls.

Aegon chuckles darkly as soon as the doors close once more, standing from his chair with a wide smirk. “I must say, I’m impressed,” he taunts, eyes glinting as he looks between you and his brother, “I didn’t think either of you had that much gaul in you.”

“What exactly are you tittering about now?” Aemond asks lowly behind you, his voice rough and choppy as his patience clearly wears thin.

Sniggering, Aegon saunters around to stand beside you, violet eyes scanning over your laps still concealed under the table, “You’ve had your cock in her the whole time, have you not?” He teases, laughing harder still as Aemond merely hums in response, “Come brother, you should be proud of yourself,” he clasps a hand over your husband's shoulder, “She was nearly falling apart when she peaked.” He comments with a final wink as he ambles to the door, stopping to throw one last amused look over his shoulder, “You might want to do something about that bite mark on your shoulder.” He says casually before slamming the doors closed behind him.

At his comment, you whirl around and your eyes grow wide as you spy a clear impression of your teeth marks in the leather of Aemond’s tunic, on his shoulder where you’d bitten down earlier. Your cheeks heat up at the thought of it being there throughout the entire meeting.

You don’t have long to dwell on the thought though as your husband roughly pushes you from his lap until you’re bent over the table, cheek pressed to the cool stone surface. “Seven!” You sequel as he unceremoniously shoves his cock back inside you, his hips pumping wildly as his hands grasp at your waist harshly, no doubt leaving bruises.

“Fucking finally,” he grunts, eyeing the way his cock disappears into your slick heat as he bunches your gown up over your ass, “‘M not gonna last.” He warns lowly, already panting with the speed of his thrusts.

Your head spins once again as his cock moves within you, his pace nearly bruising. Your teeth sink into the skin of your forearm as you desperately try to keep quiet, another peak already welling up within you.

Aemond growls and quickly threads the fingers of one hand through your hair, making you whine loudly as he pulls your head back until his chest is once again pressed against you, his other hand coming to rub against your abused pearl once more.

“Aemond!” You moan, shaking your head in his grasp, one hand braced against the table as the other grabs at his forearm, feeling his muscles twitch as his fingers swirl against your center, “P-Please, I cannot keep myself quiet, I know I can’t—“ You start babbling.

“Let them fucking hear,” he growls, eye squeezing shut as he feels his stones tightening up, “The whole keep can listen for all I fucking care, I won’t be stopping this time.”

Your eyes roll back in your head at his words, never having heard him sound this possessed and overcome with pleasure before. After only a few more thrusts, you feel your walls twitch once more, a loud gasp rattling through your chest, “H-Husband, I’m—!”

“That’s it,” Aemond groans, redoubling his efforts against your pearl as he continues to rut into you at a nearly inhuman pace. “Peak, sweetling,” he commands, his voice low and raspy in your ear, “Peak while I breed your precious cunt.”

His words nearly take your breath away and you whine loudly as another high washes over you, your walls milking your husband’s cock as they clench and pulse against it.

Behind you, Aemond groans lowly, grunting as his cock twitches strongly inside you, his thick seed flooding into your heat as he finally, finally peaks, the pleasure of it making him dizzy as he leans against your back, forehead pressed between your shoulder blades.

The two of you are quiet for a moment, your tired pants the only sounds in the chambers. Finally, Aemond untangles his fingers from your hair, both of his hands coming to rest against the cool table as he finally pulls his cock from your center, soothing you with soft shushes when you whine, the emptiness in your core such a foreign feeling after being filled for so long.

He sinks into his chair once more and pulls you with him, wrapping a protective arm around your waist as you rest your head on his shoulder. Once your breathing is steady, you pick your head up, a displeased groan tumbling from your throat as you see your bite mark more clearly up close, a finger coming up to trace over the intents in the black leather.

“I’ll need to send this to the seamstress for repairs,” you whisper with an apologetic sigh, “I believe this is beyond my ability to fix.”

Aemond chuckles beneath you, lilac eye gleaming with pride as he clasps a hand over yours as it still rests on his shoulder, “Don’t trouble yourself with it, my love.”

“What?” You question, smiling despite the way you tilt your head in confusion, “Aemond, I cannot fix it myself and I’m afraid the mark will not simply go away—,”

“You misunderstand me, sweetling,” he says, smiling as he looks down at you, “I intend to keep it as a mark of great pride. I shall wear it as a trophy for all to see.” He explains with a teasing laugh.

You playfully smack a hand against his chest, which only makes him laugh harder, “You can’t be serious!” You admonish with a wide smile.

“Why? I simply wish to remember this day,” he chuckles, “The day I made my sweet wife peak in front of the Gods and everyone.”

“Aemond!” You cannot help the surprised laugh that leaves you, “You’re as disgusting as your brother!”

tagged lovelies: @helloworldiamnotarobot @drakonflames @marysucks-blog @watercolorskyy @valeskafics @iamaegontargaryenwife0 @aemshaircare @1997babyyyy @lovellies @little-moonbeam-666 @blackswxnn @demirunner @eponaartemisa @trshngyn

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ra-horakhty-art · 1 year

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Alicent and her children.

#aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #house of the dragon #aemond kinslayer #hotd #prince aemond #hotd art #alicent hightower #helaena targaryen #king aegon #aegon the second #daeron targaryen #daeron the daring

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flowerandblood · 2 months

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Object of Desire (1/3)

[ dark • Aemond x Arryn • widow female ]

[ warnings: dubcon, hate sex, sex content, smut, angst, domination, violence, swearing, humiliation, hard chauvinism ]

[ description: Aemond is forced to marry a widow from House Arryn as part of the alliance and support of his brother in the war against the Black faction. This story is an Anon Request, sorry it took me so long. I know anon wanted it to be a softer and sweeter story, but it didn't fit Aemond's character and what I think would be going on in his head. The female character has a specific eye and hair color. Lots of humiliation, violence and chauvinism. ]

Part 2 − Object of Despair Part 3 − Object of Delight Epilogue

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

My other works: Masterlist

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He thought the greatest humiliation of his life was behind him when he lost an eye, when his brother and nephews gave him a pig instead of a dragon. He thought that now that he was a man, rider of the greatest dragon walking the earth − he would finally get everything he deserved, a wife from a dignified, respected House, and with her an offspring, his inheritance, an extension of his lineage.

He could not hide his expression of disappointment, disgust and bitterness when his mother informed him that instead of one of Lord Baratheon's daughters he would be marrying Lord Arryn's niece − his grandfather, intent on strengthening his brother's position on the throne felt that depriving Rheanyra of the support of the Eyrie, her mother's kin, would greatly weaken her in the ongoing war.

He would have endured this change without a word were it not for one thing.

The woman was a fucking widow.

Already intimate with another man who had taken her virginity, she was worn, marked, like an overbitten apple that now someone had to eat to the end to keep it from rotting.

He imagined in the back of his mind how the court, which both feared and mocked him, would spread rumours that the One-Eyed Prince was not only crippled but must marry a woman devoid of value and her greatest virtue, for no other lady would agree to be his wife.

However, he knew what duty was and intended to fulfil it.

Despite his mother's suggestion, he did not want to see her before the nuptial day. He felt that he did not want to further exacerbate her bad enough appearance in his eyes; he feared that she was not only worthless but plain ugly, her mind empty and shallow.

Although the nuptials were to take place in the noble family, knowing that this would not be her first wedding it was decided that the whole ceremony would be modest, only the most loyal lords and relatives who supported their cause were invited.

Looking at his reflection in the mirror in shame and disgust, at his emerald tunic adorned with golden threads swirling in embroidery reminiscent of dragon's heads, he thought it seemed too refined for such an occasion, for such a woman who could offer him nothing.

He knew that there was no fault of hers in her husband's sudden passing from this world, that it was pure politics, but he could not help thinking that it would have been better if she had died with him.

Waiting for her in the Great Sept, he felt nothing − he had not even bestowed a single glance on her when he heard the sound of trumpets, indicating that she and her father had entered the temple and were heading towards him.

As he felt her presence beside him he immediately noticed out of the corner of his eye that she was dressed in a blue gown, flowers of the same colour in her hair − curiosity forced him to at least glance at her and he swallowed loudly as his gaze met her violet eyes.

The colour of the Targaryens.

He froze, feeling his heart suddenly begin to beat faster, unable to look away from her irises, from her long, dark lashes and eyebrows surrounding her eyes like a sky surrounding the sun − unintentionally his gaze studied quickly her entire silhouette and face.

He swallowed with difficulty, turning his head away, realising that her figure was pleasingly girlish, she was young, too young in his eyes to be a widow − her dark hair was tied back, myosotis tucked into her curls at the sides of her head, her gown made of some thin, smooth, shiny material shimmering blue and purple at the same time.

He couldn't focus on what the Septon was saying; he only glanced at her again when Daeron handed him the cloak with which he was to cover her − her gaze fixed on him, her eyebrows arched in sorrow as if she was in pain, her eyes gleaming, slightly reddened, as if she was barely holding back tears.

He felt like asking if she was so disgusted with him, but no sound came out of his mouth.

With a stony face expressing indifference, he threw his cloak embroidered with a three-headed red dragon over her back and then took her hand in his, small and surprisingly smooth.

She didn't look at him when, in a trembling, soft voice, she repeated the words of her vows with him. He tried to remember her doing it for the second time in her life, that she was someone else's, warming someone else's bed, but he couldn't.

She seemed so innocent.

They hadn't exchanged a word during the wedding feast; he watched from the corner of his eye her demeanour, her face − she seemed to him absent, sad, ashamed.

He thought with a squeeze in his throat, filled with jealousy and envy, that she was a beautiful young woman, and someone had her before him.

He took a loud, impatient sip of wine from his cup, its tart, slightly sweet aftertaste spilling over his tongue, dulling his mind.

He felt like his head was going to burst.

They both tried to put it off for as long as they could, however, eventually his mother suggested that his spouse was surely tired and should retire to bed.

He pressed his lips together at her words, rising silently, looking at this strange, frightened girl out of the corner of his eye, her face turned towards him, her eyes open wide in terror.

"Come, wife." He hummed coldly, without emotion and heard her swallow hard − she followed him quietly as he left the hall, heading down the dark torch-lit corridors to his chamber.

He watched indifferently as her servants helped her undress from her beautiful gown, slowly untangling the curls of her hair, one of them wanted to remove the flowers from them, but he protested.

"No. The flowers are to stay. Let at least some semblance of innocence and purity remain." He sneered, saw that the corners of her mouth twitched, her eyebrows arched in pained humiliation.

He cocked his head, intrigued that she endured his words and what was happening with such humility.

He thought that if she behaved like this, perhaps he would take pity on her and actually put his child inside her, so that she could somehow regain her dignity, to be the mother of his heir.

"That's enough." He said at last, when she was left only in her nightgown, from under which he could see the outline of the pleasing shapes of her womanly body, waiting patiently until they were left alone.

She was looking somewhere far away, sad, tired, humiliated, her face, although pale, as if filled with mourning, was smooth and pleasant, the shade of her eyes seemed to him more blue in the firelight.

Proof that they shared ancestors, a common heritage.

For some reason he felt some kind of affection for her at the thought.

He got up from his seat with a loud creak of wood, walking with a slow, lazy step towards her − he saw that she twitched but did not look at him, her lips parted slightly in an accelerated breath, betraying her nervousness.

He walked around her, looking at her as if she were an object, assessing her figure, the shade of her hair, the shape of her face from every angle. She swallowed quietly and lifted her chin, looking at him with some kind of challenge, a decision that she would accept what was about to happen and give him no reason to mock her.

He hummed at the thought, stepping behind her, feeling her flinch all over as she felt his large hands touch her waist and then slide lower, to her womb − he felt surprised, licking his lips with his tongue, that his manhood swelled hard in his breeches when, in some sudden, involuntary reflex, her small hands grabbed his wrists, yet not stopping his movements, just trying to maintain some semblance of control over what was happening.

She let the air out of her lungs nervously, closing her eyes for a moment as his nose sank into her sweet-smelling, smooth hair, his hands stroking her lower abdomen trailing over it in tender, slow movements as if he imagined she was already carrying his child, his reason for being proud and pleased with her.

"This poor man, whose name I can't even remember, died without an heir. Why?" He whispered in her ear, a note of menace in his voice, his fingers digging into the fabric of her nightgown and her stomach, forcing her to take a step back, bumping into his throbbing manhood pushing against her buttocks. He heard her gasp softly, swallowing loudly, her body quivering in his embrace.

"The will of the Gods." She replied softly, her voice melodious, warm, pleasant to his ear. He hummed again, acknowledging her answer, his hands again beginning to stroke her womb in an unhurried, tender gesture.

"Why would I need a wife who won't give me an inheritance? Hm?" He asked in a tone as if he was curious and intrigued − he felt her whole body tense up in fear knowing that he was mocking her.

She drew in air loudly, suddenly tightening her fingers on his arm as his hand slid lower, between her thighs, the tips of his fingers began to brush her there with calm, steady strokes.

His free hand rose higher, to her neck, tightening around it warningly when he felt her buttocks begin to rub against his length, feeling a pleasant wave of heat surge through his spine and lower abdomen. He looked down at his fingers between her thighs, even through the material feeling the moisture leaking through it.

"A wife is a gift. Like a sword, a book or a horse." She cooed softly, responding with a rocking of her hips to the touch of his fingers. He involuntarily chuckled at her words, charmed that she understood exactly his approach, that her mind was not obscured by bottomless female fantasies, but stood in reality.

"Why would I need a chipped sword, an empty book, or a blind horse?" He asked lowly, his hand from her neck moved higher − his fingers cupped her cheeks, forcing her to turn her head towards him, to look at him, her violet eyes misty, bright, beautiful.

She smiled and giggled softly, startling him completely, bringing him out of his thoughts.

"It's amusing to hear you speak about blindness, husband. I hope the lack of your eye doesn't bother you anymore." She whispered with a satisfaction that made him snort in fury − she squealed quietly and closed her eyes as his fingers dug into her cheeks and shook her, as if he wanted her to come to her senses and remember who she was standing in front of.

"You are nothing, whore. Do you understand? Nothing. A worn-out cup to be filled with seed. I don't have an eye, but I do have a fucking dignity that my mother deprived me of by forcing me to marry a creature like you." He hissed, shaking her head violently once in a while, wanting it to get into her little empty head what he had just said.

She looked at him with hatred, her gaze seeming darker, more dangerous to him, her tongue hitting her palate with a quiet click of her saliva as she whispered a single word in his direction.

"Pathetic."

He didn't even know when his hand tightened in her hair, slamming her head against the table that stood in front of them forcing her to lean forward with a violent gesture − she squirmed loudly and cried out, clenching her fingers on the tabletop as she tried to catch her balance − he kicked her ankle with his foot forcing her to spread her thighs wider.

"You like it rough, hm? You find yourself better at being a whore than a wife? Very well then." He growled, his free hand undoing the buckles of his tunic, untying his breeches quickly, releasing his throbbing erection, giving it a few sure squeezes at the base, for some reason what was happening, their quick, rapturous breaths aroused him even more.

"Fucking male pride. Take what you want, you won't break me." She hissed with such hateful envy that he chuckled out loud, somehow impressed by how brazen she was.

"There's a little dragon burning inside you, isn't it? We shall see. I'm a man full of patience." He sneered, lifting her nightgown up in an impatient motion, exposing what was between her thighs, her rosy, puffy folds glistening with her moisture.

She pressed her lips together, struggling to hold back the sound of discomfort as he pushed against her, forcing the fat, pink head of his cock between her tight walls. He sighed heavily, feeling how wonderfully she clenched around him on all sides, hot and surprisingly soft.

"− fuck −" He gasped out, spreading her thighs wider with his leg − she cried out loudly as he sank all the way into her with one sure thrust, her fleshy muscles throbbing againt him in panic.

They both began panting loudly as, in some subconscious, natural reflex, he began to pound into her with the impatient, aggressive stabs of his hips.

"− fucking whore −" He growled angrily, clamping his hand painfully tight on her hair, her mouth parted wide in a helpless moan as he suddenly quickened his pace, looking down, feeling a wonderful thrill of elation at the sight of his manhood opening her slick folds wide again and again with deep, brutal thrusts of his hips.

"− bastard −" She cried out, responding however to the pushes of his hips with a fierceness from which his voice stuck in his throat. He was no longer sure, groaning low with pleasure, feeling the way her walls squeezed him wonderfully, sucking him inside, whether what they were saying was true or just a test of strength and dominance, an attempt to establish who would have the last word.

"− shut the fuck up − to think you still have the strength to babble − shall I put it in your mouth so you'll finally be quiet? −" He snorted through clenched teeth, gripping his free hand over the soft, smooth skin of her firm buttocks, slamming into her like mad.

It seemed to him that they were both moaning and panting too loudly, as if they were in some kind of frenzy, his thighs slapping against her bare skin with a sticky smack again and again, barely sliding out of her.

"− fuck − o-oh fuck, stop −" He gasped out as he felt her muscles suddenly clench greedily against his manhood at his words, intensifying his sensations. He tilted his head back and closed his eyes as he heard sweet, loud moans of fulfillment begin to erupt from her throat, her body trembling all over − she whimpered when he didn't slow down, chasing his own fulfilment.

"− I know − fuck, just a moment longer − shhh −" He hushed her and groaned low, sighing in relief when he felt that wonderful, relaxing feeling, bliss in his mind and whole body, delight as his seed spilled deep inside her, right where it belonged.

His hips rocked inside her a moment longer with her mumble of displeasure, her eyes closed, her breathing ragged, her fingers trailing over the table top as if she couldn't calm down.

"− it's alright − easy − it's alright −" He whispered, panting heavily, stroking her soft hair with slow, tender gesture, her eyebrows arched in pain as she wept loudly, tears one after another began to run down her face.

He wasn't sure if she was crying from relief that she had it behind her or from grief that she had to go through this again.

"− I know − I know −" He hummed, running his fingers over her smooth, dark curls, for some reason feeling the need to reassure her, fulfilled and content after what had happened between them, his half-soft manhood still twitching deep inside her, all slick from their shared moisture.

"− I don't blame you, wife − that man was weak, as was his seed − you will soon bear me a son −"

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Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy @randomdragonfires @apollonshootafar

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targs-on-zorses · 3 months

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Aemond Targaryen | Ewan Mitchell House of the Dragon | 1.09

#house of the dragon #hotd #hotdedit #hotd gifs #dailyhotdgifs #welightthewaysource #aemondtargaryensource #aemond #aemond kinslayer #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen #ewan mitchell #h 1x09 #mine: ps #ttp-eligifs

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toms-cherry-trees · 1 year

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Thrilling Chase || Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Summary: All the girls want him. One does not. And he wants her

Word Count: 1551

Warnings: Not really. Aemond being a bit more of book Aemond than show Aemond and being overall annoyed with life

Author’s note: I dreamt this plot Sunday night and spend the entire day racking my brains to turn it into a fic. Please let me know about any errors, I am still polishing my English. Also this Aemond I am not sure I got the characterization right but I liked how it turned out. And remember I interact from @finite--incantatem

The ball is being hosted with the purpose of celebrating Aegon’s nameday. What better way to celebrate the anniversary of his birth than being surrounded by fine drinks and lovely ladies, a field full of flower buds for him to pick and spoil? Aemond can barely stand the frivolous pomp and pageantry, the ass kissing lords showering his brother and father in banal pleasantries and praises, as if any one of them paid any heed to such flummery; one too inebriated to care and the other unable to hear anything above his own wheezing.

Aemond has tried to excuse himself three times before the feast has even been served; as dutiful as he could be, even he has a limit, and his limit has been long surpassed by this insufferable event. But his weak spot has overcome his distaste, in the form of his gentle mother, who implores him to play the part for the evening. His sweet mother, who does everything in her power for the family to present a united front, all while sweeping the shambles behind the drapes. Only for her happiness is he willing to endure this foolery.

He hoped that chatting up some minor lordlings and not yawning before them would be enough to fulfil his obligations; but he has not accounted for the unwanted feminine attention. Aemond thought his physical imperfections and his downright hostile demeanour would be enough to ward off the ladies, but he could not deny the facts; as the eldest bachelor in the family, he remains a coveted prize to whom lords would offer their daughters in silver trays. He can vividly imagine them, ambitious men whispering in the ears of their girls and urging them to employ any means necessary to get in Aemond’s good graces. Only then could he explain the parade of fair maidens, all of them more adorned than carnival horses, showering him with their candid smiles and their coy giggles, batting their eyelashes and hinting most cunningly how much they would love to dance. They all seem to ask the same pre thought and bland questions; if one more lady asks to ever see Vhagar, Aemond would go and bring her down to the hall for them to see up close and personal.

Just when he hopes he has done enough to please his mother and the crowds, the first dances begin. One look from the Queen deters his efforts to flee the scene; without word, he has been reminded that his duty has yet to conclude. But Aemond would much rather eat Aegon’s toes than be found dancing with a lady. All his dexterity and gracefulness in the sparring yard do not translate to his waltzing skills; while he could be fast and silent and slippery in the face of the enemy, at the tune of the strings he possesses the elegance of a rotting tomato left in the sun.

The Prince knows the second he sets foot into the dance floor, he will be swarmed with adoring girls. But he cares not for them, since he has already set his eye on one. Just like the others she is burdened by golds and silks and stones, but unlike them, she carries her adornments with such grace and dignity that the opulence of her garments only brings forth her natural beauty.

There is something in her, something unidentifiable and unexplainable, that makes her so…so alluring. It may be the way her lips hold a perennially ineffable smile, so subtle one cannot truly tell it is there, but the mere possibility of its existence is enough to entice the mind.

It could also be her hands. Aemond cannot stop staring at them, from the way her fingers curl around the stem of the goblet, to the particular way they bend when she holds onto the pendant hanging from a fine gold chain around her neck, a subtle move that occurs whenever a young man engages her in conversation. Her left hand holds delicately onto a small fan, although its purpose seems to add to her aura of mysticism rather than keep her cool; her face disappears behind it whenever her smile becomes too wide, only her piercing eyes remaining visible, keeping her expressions unreadable, a most intriguing secret.

Only the greatest artists of the country, working for years on the best of marbles, could even dare to come close to resembling her splendour. The figure of the Maiden brought to life, and that would be a most dashing compliment - for the Goddess.

If he is to dance, he must dance with her.

He cuts through the crowd, moving past wide-eyed ladies and squeezing around dancing couples with one objective in mind. She is right there, standing near the pillar bearing the image of King Jaehaerys. She is alone, and she saw him coming. The proximity of the prey has Aemond on edge, muscles tense and ready to pounce. A man cuts his way, and he pushes him aside vigorously, but it is too late. Her figure has disappeared amongst the crowd like a vision.

Aemond spots her again a few minutes later, near the massive gates of the hall. Once more he approaches her, but he is distracted by his mother asking something, and once more loses his chance. The process repeats several times, with her always standing just at his fingertips but never close enough to grasp, her presence so real yet also so unsubstantial he begins to think he is trapped in a vivid dream.

The Prince is well damn tempted to just order everyone but her out of the chamber, but there is something in the chase, the subtle yet invigorating excitement of the pursuit, the way his pupil is blown wide and his jaw set in concentration. A sensation he has only ever experienced while wielding his sword in the training yards or soaring the skies with his dragon. An unexplainable elation, all due to this little dove who keeps flying away.

Aemond groans in frustration as she evades him once more. How can she be so fast and nimble while wearing a heavy gown? Are the Seven playing a wicked game on him, fate holding the prize above his head just out of reach? He does not care now for dancing nor pleasing his mother. This is a matter of pride; to go through all these obstacles to drop out mid-hunt would be shameful and disappointing.

She is now across the room, now more easily visible due to the dwindling crowds. She is looking straight at him, half her face obscured by her fan. But she pulls it down softly, painfully slow, and Aemond’s heart beats frantically in his chest, like he is witnessing the unveiling of the world’s greatest mystery. The fan rests lightly on her chin, and she rewards the prince with a cunning smirk.

She is doing it on purpose.

It all makes sense now. How could he be so stupid not to realise she has been playing the game alongside him? Evading him and taunting him, letting him think he had her and then slipping away like sand. This newfound knowledge spurs his desires. He needs to have her close, needs to know who she is and why is she doing this to him. His decorum and self-control slips away as a new feeling blooms within him. A warmth blooming in the depths of his body and spreading through his body. The more he cannot have her, the more he wants her. She may be akin to the image of the Maiden, but Aemond is sure the deity has never evoked the thoughts now crossing his mind, nor has any other woman ever before.

Determined to sate his curiosity, and perhaps some other lowly needs, he makes a straight line for her. She does not move nor backs out, and he can already feel the silk of her dress under his fingertips and the scent of her perfume in his nose. He doesn’t understand where the primal urge to crash his lips against hers stem from, but he is ready to give in to that urge as well.

His marching is cut abruptly by the colliding of his body against a long table. He had been so focused and lost, so unlike himself, that he paid no attention to anything or anyone around him, his vision like a tunnel focused upon her. The table is so long he would have to wander half the hall to circumvent it, and he still has enough hold of his wits to know it would be improper to vault over it or slide under the tablecloth. They are so close, yet the brief distance is unbreachable for the time being.

His eye meet hers, the mischief dancing in her pupils. The corners of those soft lips tug just a bit more, sly and bewitching. She backs away slowly, the fan coming up once more to shield her face. She turns around and disappears behind a column amidst the rustle of stiffened skirts and the tinkling of her bracelets

Defeat overcomes the Prince, but a smirk spreads across his own lips. He has not given up the chase; he is just giving the dove a head start before the hunt resumes.

#marsie writes #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond x reader #aemond x you #aemond one eye #aemond kinslayer #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen one shot #house of the dragon #hotd #aemond stannies

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thegreatestsandwich · 2 years

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I’m the mess that you wanted (Aemond Targaryen x f!reader)

(He’s so hot I want him to destroy me)

Masterlist

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Word count: 2.7k

Summary: Your father made a horrific mistake to gave your hand to another man, let’s just say that a possesive asshole didn’t like that.

Warning: Mentions of cringy sex, really possesive behaviour, read if you want, but if you are a minor, leave! why are you here?!

A/N: I’m so offended that there is a lack of fics about this sexy, hot piece of horrible human being out there. What the fuck guys? By the way, happy 150 followers! I hope I don’t dissapear once again but school and work are killing me.

There you were again, at the edge of a cliff looking at the endless waters, so beautifully dark and mysterious.

The memories from the hours before began replaying on your mind, the words that were spoken moments ago interwinding with the fragrant aroma of the sea. The cold wind caressed your plain dress against your body.

Marriage.

A word you knew even before you could talk, a death sentence to a free soul.

Misery, that’s what this feeling was.

Your hair was carefully swept into a braid, slapping against your skin as the wind tried to sooth the painful news. Sadly, there was nothing it could do to save you from this pain.

Aileas Eithne, first son of the House of Haywood. The man your father deemed a rightful option for you to settled, even though there was another man out there who was more willingly to accept you in a blink of an eye. Even though this marriage was going to be his seventh one.

But your father was a ridiculous man who only seek options that guaranteed you a rightful place within a throne. Not the second son who was nothing more that the title that was given to him. A foolish reason to give your hand away so easily, even more ridiculous as the king himself asked you to be betrothed to his second son.

You felt him before he made any sound but your eyes were still captivating watching how the waves gently moved the few boats there.

His hands gently caressed your arms, you felt his breath against the back of your neck. If only these few last moments you had in this place were to last longer. This was peace. He was peace.

“It’s cold.” He gently move your hair to the side, kissing your neck softly. Not caring if he was seeing by your side. “My sister is wondering where you went.”

You closed your eyes, trying to not lose yourself against his warmth. A sigh escaped your lips knowing the crude lie he was still trying to put you in. There was no going around that matter, life was not forgiving. Even though the man you loved was here from the very start, still waiting for you to accept.

You turned to face him, his eye watching your moves carefully. You tried not to cowered against his stare.

“I have a feeling the princess is quite busy watching the butterfly she caught hours ago.” You tried to even your tone. “Perhaps her dear brother was truly the one who was looking for me.”

A smirk curved his lips. He gently placed his forehead against yours.

“I don’t recall that.”

“Then you are truly blind, my prince.”

He frowned at the sound of his tittle. You almost flinched when he took a step back to watch you. In full honesty, you wanted nothing more than for him to take you away from here and marry you in secret. That was your wish.

“We shouldn’t,” You paused for a second, trying to formulate the correct way to express your father’s decision without enraging him further. “We shouldn’t be alone.”

“And why is that?” He scoffed, his arms crossing at his back. “Why the sudden shyness?”

You couldn’t lie to him, that was the power he always held against you. You sighed again, handing him the folded parchment your father had given you. Aemond took it without a word, rapidly reading the words on it.

You couldn’t read his face, you never could. His deepest thoughts hidden behind the stoic face he always wore.

“It’s official.” You muttered against the wind, your face looking away from him. “My father seal the deal. I’m expecting to leave in seven days.”

Aemond stared at it for a while, his breath becoming more harsh at each breath you took. Would it create a sad memory if you took the initiative this time? To ask him to own you one last time? Would it be that bad?

His hands destroyed the paper in anger. It was in that moment when you really questioned your father’s decision. Would it be that bad to be married to a second son? Someone who would never step a foot at the throne as long as his brother was alive? Would it be that bad?

Your mind began playing a fantasy, trying to seize the horrible silence that prostrated the two of you. You imagined the screams of pain of your father, you could see the murderous look on Aemond’s face when he demanded what was truly his. Gods, you wanted that.

“What is this?” He took a step forward, his hands grasping your shoulders, you could feel the hatred behind his words alongside the pain of his fingers. “Your father said he would wait to hear my offer.”

“I’m so sorry.” You breathed through the fresh tears that began falling from your eyes. From the outside perspective, one would assume the prince was a crazy man, a stupid foolish man. “My father send a raven a few days ago without my acknowledgement, agreeing with sir Aileas for my hand…”

“Do. Not.” He interrupted you. “Do not say his name, do not taint your mouth with another man’s name.”

“It would be best if we end this here.” Your eyes closed when he close the distance from your mouth. He tried to claim your lips but you didn’t let him, opting for turning your head to the side.

“Why should we?” You shiver at his words. “Those words are lies, you are mine.” He nibbled your ear. “Why shouldn’t I claim what is rightfully mine?”

“My father…”

“Should see how his daughter rightfully responds at the touch of her lover.” Aemond stared into your eyes as if he could see straight into your soul. “Let him hear the name of the man who owns your body, let him see that you are rightfully mine.”

“This could end bad.” You tried to protest, trying to stay in focus at the feeling of his mouth against your neck. “This would lead into war.”

“Don’t you trust me to become victorious?” He cupped your face in his large hands, his thumb caressing your bottom lip. “You see me as man who could lose?”

“Never.” You quickly responded, “I am more afraid of the deaths you could cause by your hand.”

He smirked at the answer. “Let me claim you once again then. Here at the open, when any curious eye could wander without restrain.”

“Aemond…”

The prince dipped his head down, capturing your lips with his in a greedy kiss. You moaned at the lingering wine taste. There would be no man other than him that would make you forget him. Nothing would compare at the feeling of his skin sliding against yours. He would eat you alive, and you would let him.

His hands quickly destroyed the braid, fingers quickly untangling the strands of hair away from its confinements.

He turned your face to the side, his mouth kissing his way to your neck. His hands sliding away your dress until you stood naked before him.

Aemond demanded control and you let him have it without question, with him there was no risk of disappointment, with him, you became complete.

He laid you down carefully on the humid grass, covering your body with his, the leather of his pants caressing your legs as he separated them with his knee. His mouth went down to your swollen breast, giving it his complete attention with a kiss. Your hand cupped the back of his head, silently encouraging him to continue. And he did.

His tongue flickered back and forth over your nipple, “That’s it,” he whispered against it, his hand gliding down your skin, making its way where you needed him, easing the ache where you wanted him deeper inside you. “Give yourself to me once again, show me that only I can give you this pleasure. Let me taste it.”

Your hand tightly grasped at his hair, forcing him back to your mouth, he let you kiss him with greed, your hips thrusting against his hand, trying to seek more pleasure. “Aemond…” Whispered against his lips.

“This cunt belongs to me.” He bit your lip. “This body is mine to use, you are mine, and you will take what only I can give you.” He wickedly smile. “You belong to me.”

“(Y/N)! What is the meaning of this!” A shout brought you back, you gasped in horror when your mind recognized the sound of your father’s disgusted screams. Your head turned to the side and finally saw him standing there in shock.

“Aemond…!” You whispered, trying to push him but he didn’t let you, capturing your mouth once again.

“You are disturbing us.” Aemond carelessly answer your father, his face never leaving the confinement of your neck. “Leave us.”

“Get the fuck away from my daughter.” Your father grasped at the prince’s hair, tugging it harshly, managing to get him away from you. “A honorable man agreed to take your hand in marriage and you gave yourself away like a disgusting whore.” He spat at your feet.

You quickly put your dress, trying to cover yourself quickly.

A knife slowly made its way against your father’s neck. The murderous image of your love next to your father made you stay still. “I will suggest you to keep your mouth shut.” His eye made contact with yours, a sardonic smile made its way on his lips. “Leave us, my love. There are a few things your father and I must discuss alone.”

You stayed there watching him, until he mouthed ‘now’ and you left running as quickly as possible.

The halls were almost empty as most of the service was already sleep, you rapidly enter your room, quietly closing your door before your hands tugged at your hair.

You began pacing, the nerves about what Aemond could do to your father was keeping you in a nervous mind set, your eyes looking outside your window, the moon moved slowly so you didn’t know how many hours has it passed since you left.

Your door quietly opened and closed. Aemond watched you curiously. “My love.” He interrupted your thoughts. Your eyes quickly began searching for any injury, sighing in relief when you found none.

“My father…?” You asked him. Aemond smiled, making his way to you, taking your hands in his and kissing your knuckles softly.

“Your father has accepted my proposal, he just needed a bit more convincing from my part.” He softly laughed. “He understood his mistake when he almost deny what belong to me as he gave your hand away.”

“Is he dead?” You crudely asked him, not waiting any longer. “Did you kill him Aemond?”

He shook his head while laughing, softly dragging you against his body, you drew a deep breath as his hand carefully ran through your hair. “Of course not, my love. Even as miserable as he is, I know how important he is to you. I just…needed to show him how much beneficial it would be to marry me instead.”

You searched his face for any lie but found none, your hand caress his jaw, your thumb gently touching his lips, he kissed it in response. “What will it happened now?”

He dipped his head to kiss you but you didn’t let him, pulling away from his face but not from his arms.

“We will marry, and there is no one that will oppose now.”

“How?” You wondered.

“You don’t need to know the details of my conversation with your father, my love. Trust that I took care of it.”

You nodded and he brought your face to his, kissing you with softness, his hands toyed with your neck while yours began unbuttoning his shirt.

Aemond slide your dress, helping you stepping away from it, one of his hands touched your breast once again and you moaned in response as he cupped it in his palm. His thumb brushed over your nipple, humming in delight as you squirmed against his touch. He grinned and took it on his mouth, resuming once again what your father rudely interrupted both of you.

He let you slid his shirt away from his body, tossing it over his shoulder. He pushed you into the bed and he kneeled in front of your open legs. His thumb caressing your tights. You were so wet for him and Aemond was dying to have your taste against his mouth.

You licked your lips as you intently watch him, his hands spread your folds so he could watch you, he sighed in delight as he saw the most private part of your body. “Beautifully wet, and only for me.” He said as he slid his finger deep inside you.

You groaned in pleasure as his finger began playing with your entrance, his mouth followed his finger, you gasped his name as his tongue circulate the same path of his finger.

Your hands grasped at his hair but he didn’t budge as he flickered his tongue against your clit over and over again. You came at his tongue but Aemond didn’t stop, he needed to taste you once again, his tongue entered you, trying to bring more of your taste.

He groaned, lifting one of your legs over his shoulder, forcing you to open wide. His thumb spread you as he gently blow against your body, you shivered with anticipation. Your body betraying you. His tongue seeking more, more and more. “This is how it should be.” He suck your clit. “Your body knows my touch, you responded at my touch. Gods, I love the way you cum on my mouth.”

You tugged at his hair, forcing him to face you, you kissed him and began removing his clothes with desperation, he let you guide the situation for a bit, finding amusing how desperate you were for him to claim you.

He rubbed his cock against your folds, sliding back and forth against them, completely enamored with the way your body coated his erection with your release.

“Aemond.” You pleaded, completely lost in the pleasure.

He enter you slowly, his eye closing in pleasure at the feeling of your body welcoming him. Your legs wrapped around his waist. “Your body is perfect.” He groaned as he began thrusting. “Your body was made for me to own.”

His hands gripped your tights as he began diving into you with passion, he brought his face to your neck, sinking his teeth into the juncture of your throat and your shoulder, marking you as his.

“Aemond!” You gasped his name as he turned you around, placing you on your hands and knees. His hands gripped your hips as he drove again his cock inside you, pounding you with everything he had.

“Mine, you are mine.” He hissed as you tightened against his dick, “You are only mine and you will take what I give you, you will keep my seed safe inside you, you will give me an offspring.” He pushed you against the bed, your cheek rested on the quilt, his hands grabbing both of your wrists. “So beautiful, so full with my children.”

Aemond covered your body with his, his breath against your ear. “Say it.”

You moaned in response.

“Say. It.” He demanded you. “Say it.”

“Yours, only yours.” You moaned.

“Again.” He kissed your shoulder. “Say it again.”

“Yours, please Aemond.” You were so close, you could feel it, you needed it, you needed to be fill with his seed. “Please, please.”

You gasped as you harshly cum, but he didn’t stop, he began chasing his own climax.

He sank his teeth onto your shoulder, the pain prolongating your release as he began to slow down his thrusts until he stood still.

Aemond began kissing your spine. “Mine.” You hummed in delight. “My beautiful wife, only mine.”

“Yours.” You responded back, you felt him smile against your shoulder, he kissed you. “Only yours.”

#aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen fic #aemond x you #hotd #aemond kinslayer #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen one shot #aemond targaryen smut

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dedicatednotobsessed · 1 month

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I love my boytoys though and I will support their war crimes.

{Both made by me 💚}

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keruwu-san · 8 months

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I really like the interpretation of the artist Naomi and her vision of Aemond that I just can't keep silent!

Aemond looks damn good with short hair

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youraverageaemondsimp · 9 months

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DÉPAYSEMENT // iii.

Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Reader

warnings: nothing much, 18+, male masturbation, Aemond busts a nut at the end, canon divergence, not proofread I'm sorry aaaa.

<- prev // next ->

masterlist.

You drifted off into slumber, having been anxious about the entire outcome of the unavoidable situation, you didn't know whether or not Aemond had killed Lucerys, maybe he did, maybe the war was inevitable.

When you awoke, it was to loud and wet footsteps and your heart started heating loudly in your chest, expecting aemond to tell you that he had killed lucerys but to your surprise he says nothing, he's way too calm for someone that could've probably just murdered someone.

“He's alive.”

You didn't know how glad you were to hear those two words, your eyes filled with delight, maybe you can prevent the war, you just kind of did. You had stopped the main brick from falling over, now you just had to stabilize the rest of the foundation.

“You're- drenched.” you say and he scoffs, “Yes, I am aware, I came straight to you.” you felt your face heat up when he said that, he probably meant it as nothing but you felt warm.

You give him a small smile.

His breath hitches in his throat before he clears it and acts as if nothing happened.

“What is your name?” he asks so nonchalantly, and that's when you realised he doesn't even know your name- well he didn't bother to ask. And you kind of felt offended at that.

“Y/n.” you say sharply, “Y/n...” he repeats, a small smirk winding itself up on his face, you felt your core tighten at the way your name slipped off his tongue, you reminded your self to come back to your senses.

“Is there anything that you wanted to know?” you ask, trying not to make it awkward.

“Oh yeah, when will my marriage to Floris Baratheon take place?” he asks and you felt a sting your heart at that, what was wrong with you? it's not like it mattered who he married anyway, he had you here against your will and you felt pity for him? Textbook stockholm syndrome symptom.

You didn't know what to say, you just bit your lip in thought before looking back at him again, his gaze darkened.

“I- I do not know how to explain— from what I saw, you never got married.” you say, wondering how to explain the entire blood and cheese, harrenhal, alys rivers, God's eye part to him.

But then you realised.

You didn't just prevent Lucerys from dying, you also prevented from blood and cheese from happening.

A son for a son would not happen.

Because Lucerys was still alive.

You felt glad. That Jaehaerys would live.

“I never get married?” He asks and you nod, his eyebrows furrow in thought, and before he can question more, you interrupt him, “I told you might foresight is limited, and with lucerys not dying, fate might change.” you say and he hums.

Quietness falls between you two.

You move, wincing when your sore muscles contract, lying on the hard mud floor isn't exactly good for your body, and the mud even got into your hair, and you don't know how long it had been since you last took a bath or washed your face.

Aemond takes notice of this, feeling bad seeing you in such condition, but he doesn't understand why he feels bad, you were a literal peasant.

Even then, before he can stop himself words fall out of his mouth.

“Are you not comfortable here?” He wanted to punch himself, what kind of question was that? Of course she isn't comfortable here, she's literally jailed inside a dungeon, he felt stupid.

She looked at him baffled at the stupid question but quickly controlled her expression before answering, “No... It's not comfortable.” she was baffled but also confused on why he would care for her comfort.

��Hmm, Shall I have you residing in more comfortable chambers above then?” he asks, you didn't know if he was mocking you or genuinely asking you, but nevertheless you nod and he thinks for a moment.

“But we need to make a deal first.” he says and you groan, before agreeing, you would literally do anything to get out of this situation, you can't stay like this forever.

“You must not tell about your powers to anyone.” he says, “Okay.” you say

“I will have a guard outside of the chamber at all hours, if you want or need anything, inform him.”

“Okay.”

“And if you try to escape, know that I would not hesitate to separate your head from your body.”

“Got it.” shivers run down your body in fear.

“Great, I will let you know once I have arranged everything for you.” he says and you nod, he leaves before you can ask him a question.

What exactly do you tell people if they were question why you were here with him? or why he bought you here.

Aemond hadnt thought of that.

He felt stupid that he didn't because now his mother was on his back, questioning what his relationship with you is.

“Aemond! How can you just take the girl as prisoner and then shift her to vacant chambers?!” His mother questions and Aemond takes in a deep breath, “She is useful.” he says and his mother scoffs, “For what? Warming your bed?? What would others say?? That the prince Aemond had taken in a lover? In the KEEP?!” she shouts but aemond remains calm, he held back a smile at the thought of you being his lover, blood rushing to his cock at the image of you in his bed, he had gone mad. His silence makes alicent think that you were in fact his lover.

“What would Lord Borros think?! What about your honour?!” Alicent continues, “You were to marry his daughter Aemond! How could you take in a lover?” she groans, Aemond takes a deep breath before answering, “It is not uncommon, mother.” he says and alicent sigh disappointedly.

She knew it wasn't, paramours are quite a common occurrence in noble houses, many had taken in mistresses while married, and they were not looked down upon, the only image it ruined of was the wife's and not the husband's who was at fault, she didn't want her son to turn out the same way, but alas he had.

Aemond knew his mother was disappointed in him, and for the first time in his life, he had disobeyed her, he felt bad, disgusted even, but he couldn't just reveal your secret, your powers.

It didn't matter what others thinks. He thought.

Alicent just sighed, but then she heard Aemond apologize, looking down in guilt, and she felt her heart clench, the same way he had looked down when he was bought to her by the guard after he had entered the dragonpit after the pig incident.

A mother's love is sometimes a curse they say, if she can forgive Aegon for all that, why couldn't she forgive Aemond? She sighed before holding his arms and looking up at him, “I do not mean yo scold you Aemond, I'm simply— telling what's best, but I understand.” she just accepts, knowing that no matter what she will do, it wouldn't change his mind.

He gives his mother a small nod before he departs from there.

You were in the chambers, in a bathtub the servants had brought in to clean you, you dismissed them when they had tried to help you clean up, telling them that you would be fine on your own.

It felt odd to have others bathe you and do everything for you.

You stripped bare and got in the tub, relaxing at the temperature of water before laying your head against the end and closing your eyes.

The contrast from the modern era to this era was still unsettling to you.

You didn't know how much you would miss your daily boring life until you got here.

Waking up at 7AM to get ready for the day, home made coffee or just going to Starbucks if you felt lazy, having a part time job to pay off bills while you studied at college, you had taken up physics and chemistry as your major. If you could go back in time and prevent yourself from participating in that time travel experiment, you would.

Or rather go forward? You didn't know anymore.

You realised how everyone would find you batshit insane if you started solving physics numericals, or explain the concepts of force, gravity, motion, speed, velocity, etc, they wouldn't understand chemistry.

Maybe you could be the one to discover gravity? And take credit instead of newton, you chuckled at the thought.

“What's so funny?” you heard a voice say and you screech, turning around and crossing your arms over your chest, It was Aemond. “DUDE, GET OUT.” you scream panicking and he stands still.

“Do not command me.” he says you groan in frustation, “Please leave, come inside when I'm dressed, it is indecent.” you say it in a way he would understand, and it seemed that's when it dawned on him that you were naked and his gaze darkened before he looked away and went outside the room, closing the door.

You swear to the seven that this guy is an airhead or high on drugs because what the fuck was that interaction just now.

You got out of the tub, dried yourself before pulling out an extra pair of clothes you had kept in your backpack, and wore them, and you heard a knock on your door, voice of aemond, asking if he can come in.

Why was he so eager to see you?

You said yes and the door opened, aemond opened his mouth to speak but closed immediately looking at your attire and raising an eye brow.

You were wearing wide leg jeans and a black top, they were comfortable to wear.

“This will not do, your attire is extremely weird, you wear pants as if you are a man.” he sighs.

“There's literally nothing wrong with this outfit, it's decent enough to match your medieval standards of decency.” you roll your eyes, “Plus I do not have many clothes, it's not I was supposed to know that the experiment would've worked.” you mutter the last part.

“I shall have someone prepared for you then.” he says and you look at him, “why are you doing all this? for me?” you genuinely ask and he goes quiet, not knowing the answer to this question himself.

“truth be told, I have no idea.” that's all he says and you just stare at him with pursed lips before sighing and sitting on the bed.

“Now what.” you say aloud into the room and see aemond move towards you, standing in front of you as you look up at him.

“I have told people you are my lover.”

“Oka— WAIT WHAT.” you jump up, causing him to stumble back as to not bump into you, you looked at him baffled, and blinked.

“Listen-” you cut him off before he can explain, “oh my gods now I'm gonna be known as your lover, I will have people whispering about me, I thought the main focus was to not draw any attention to me?!” you yell.

“I had no other explanation! I couldn't reveal about your powers!” he lightly shouts.

“You could've just said I was your friend?!” you say, but then you realise that he can't do that because a friend that popped out of nowhere seems suspicious. “Actually nevermind.” you groan plopping down on the bed in defeat.

“It's okay I understand, but I hope you don't have any weird thoughts though.” you mutter and he stays silent.

“Great, now I'm going to be known as Y/n, lover of Aemond Targaryen!” You groan sarcastically, the devil in your ear whispers that it actually doesn't sound bad but you push it away.

“At least, I hope, I don't have to act like one.” you stare at him questioningly.

He remains silent, his eye fixated on you, and you felt shivers run up your spine.

“I hope not.” you say again but he doesn't say anything, and turns to leave your chambers, you furrow your brows in confusion.

Aemond rushes back to his chambers, in thought, your words ‘great, I'm gonna be known as Y/n, lover of Aemond Targaryen’ keeps resonating in his mind, he loves the idea very much, his lover, you as his lover.

He swears he is going insane, how are you consuming every part of him that easily? You are plaguing his mind, infecting him like a diesease.

‘Lover of Aemond Targaryen.’

Your voice keeps repeating in his head, and from earlier, your naked form too, although he didn't see quite much, the flesh of your breasts were visible through the gaps of your arms.

He slammed the doors of this chambers shut, immediately going down to lay on the bed before pulling his pants down, his cock painfully hard.

He runs his fingers up and down, trying to imagine anyone but you, to try and gain his self control back, a false feeling of control, he tries imagining floris, his future wife, the way she will take his cock in her cunt on their wedding night, in her shredded wedding gown which he ripped apart to reveal her flesh, but he groans, not enjoying it.

But then he imagines you.

In the same shredded wedding gown, he wraps his hand around his cock tightly, imagining how tight your cunt would be as he thrusts up into his palm, the way your breasts would bounce as he takes your maidenhead, the way you would moan his name, call him your husband, plead him to give his seed to you, so you can have his heirs.

He felt himself rapidly reaching his high.

‘Wife’ how he would mutter that word into your ear, watching you whine and buck your hips against him, he would bring you to your peak many times.

He remembers your soft breasts from earlier and his peak hits him like a shock, as he let's out a loud moan into the chambers, he breathes heavily, coming down from his high.

He cleans himself up before laying back and closing his eyes and drifting off to slumber imagining you.

‘Y/n, lover of Aemond Targaryen’

Y/n, Lady Wife of Aemond Targaryen.

TAGLIST ;

@sassysaxsolo @jaime-in-flannel @namelesslosers @itsabby15 @snh96 @xcharlottemikaelsonx @moonlightazriel @beado05 @ajourneytobeweightless @hannaeditzs @joyouart @nitimurinvetitumsposts @hufflepuff1700 @loserwithnofriends @noemienakamoto @smolnuggie911 @happinessinthebeing @teamstorybooks @drewstarkeyluver @nealeart @aelora-a @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @wxb-slingrr @lyn07

bold is who I can't tag!

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witheredoffherwitch · 5 months

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Antis: Y'all will hate Aemond's guts when he enters his villain era in Season 2. I am just getting that popcorn ready 🫵😂

HoTD girlies:

#aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #aemond kinslayer #hotd fandom #fandom bs #pro team green #hotd shitpost #hotd #fandom discourse #hotd discussion

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badgirl411 · 8 months

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Intoxicating: (Modern!Aemond Targaryen x Reader AU) 18+ WARNING

Pairings: Modern!Aemond Targaryen x f!Reader

Warnings: toxic relationship, possessiveness, strong language, SMUT, mentions of tattooing needles, sexual themes

Authors Note: Hello lovely people, I decided to write this Modern!Aemond AU as I have been imagining him covered in tattoos recently and I need the thought out of my head lol! This will be the first part of what will be a mini series. So please enjoy a slightly toxic tattoo artist Aemond, WARNING THIS DOES CONTAIN SEXUAL THEMES THROUGHOUT. MINORS DNI!

The quiet buzz of chatter and jazz fills the small space of the corner café you find yourself in, the weather outside is dull and it seems the heavens have opened themselves up as the rain pelts off the pavement outside the quaint café. There’s a chill in the air today as Autumn seems to be in full swing with the vibrant orange and yellow leaves falling from the trees to find their home on the ground, the latte clasped in your small palms provides a small semblance of warmth as you wait for your best friend Helaena.

Lost in idle thought you are startled slightly by the sudden arrival of your best friend; however, a look of genuine surprise is etched across your features as Helaena’s brother Aegon accompanies her. You rise from your stool pulling the siblings into a gentle embrace a smile working its way across your face. You never had any siblings, so the pair are the closest thing to family you have.

Aegon and Helaena are both tattoo artists possessing an incredibly popular joint a few streets over from where you are currently situated. Due to the popularity of the shop you rarely get to spend much time with them, making today even more special.

You have several tattoos yourself but have never had any done by the siblings, as well as a catch up today was also a consultation deciding after much milling you wanted the two most important people in your life to help create something beautiful that would remain with you for long after.

After chatting for what feels like hours you relay to them some of the ideas you have for the piece you want to get on your thigh. Both sketch small pieces of the design continually looking at each other then to you. Aegon’s eyes are drawn to the watch that is situated on his wrist the thick leather strap concealing part of the tattoo inked on his wrist.

“Shit!” Aegon startles you with his sudden outburst, Helaena seeming to understand the reason for the alarm.

“I am so sorry (Y/N) but we have to go, Aemond is watching the shop and we have clients lined up back to back for the rest of the day!” You roll your eyes unintentionally at the mention of their brother.

“Play nice (Y/N)” Helaena fake scolds you at your reaction to Aemond’s name being mentioned.

You see Aemond Targaryen was Aegon and Helaena’s brother and joint partner in the studio, he also happens to be your ex-boyfriend. Let’s just say things did not end very well between you both and have yet to see each other properly since besides seeing him through the back of the shop or skulking about in the background of a facetime call.

“Anyway, sunshine we will be in contact in the next few days Helaena will text you once the design is finalised to get your ok then we can lockdown a date.” Aegon kisses you on the cheek bidding you farewell with Helaena following close behind.

It’s three days later when Helaena texts you informing you the design is complete to your shock, before you can text back replying your phone buzzes indicating an incoming call. It’s Helaena.

“My darling Helaena hello, everything ok?” you greet her over the phone.

“All good babe, are you busy just now?” Her tone rising in question.

“No darling I am free, what’s up?” wondering why she is asking.

“Can you pop over to the studio, I am here thought you could come take a look at the design and see what you think. I can nip next door and get coffee if that’s any incentive!” you can hear her chuckle on the other end of the phone. As if you needed any incentive to go and see your best friend.

Throwing your hair up in a loose bun before pulling out a few loose strands you grab your shacket from the hanger next to the door and slip on your boots, grabbing your keys and making your way to the shop.

It’s about 20 minutes later when you arrive at the shop looking slightly wind swept, the smalls of your cheeks-tinged pink with the temperature outside. Pushing the door open you can see Helaena sketching away on her notepad, Aegon is nowhere to be seen.

After greeting each other Helaena invites you through the back of the shop leading you to the coffee like a dog to a bone, sensing your desperation for something warm to calm the chill settling over your body.

Little does she know the chill isn’t from the weather outside but at the mere thought of running into her brother, praying your ex is not in the studio and instead skulking about somewhere else. You are not prepared to interact with Aemond today, if only you can just get to the design, you can leave and hopefully avoid any interaction or mention of him altogether.

Sensing your unease as you look over your shoulder eyeing the door Helaena leans in closer and whispers.

“You can calm down (Y/N) he is mid-session with a client, I doubt you will see him.” Her hand rests atop your shoulder.

This does little to settle the swirling sickness in your stomach.

Sitting nursing the latte in your hand you look over the design Aegon and Helaena came up with and your eyes begin to well, the piece is special its beautiful. You embrace your friend who hushes you trying to settle the rising emotion in you.

Something catches your eye on the other side of the office, on the swivel chair sits a jacket. A leather jacket. You recognise it immediately as the jacket you bought Aemond for his Christmas 2 years ago, you had it custom made for him hoping to tailor it to his frame and personality.

You can’t believe he still has it, the way the both of you left things you expected him to have thrown it away or burned it in some cathartic outburst. A chill runs up your spine as you pick up on a smell that makes your hair stand on end and your mouth water. You remember it well, it’s Aemond, his aftershave. When you were together it drove you crazy, the smell almost intoxicating.

You are torn from your daydream when behind you the office door opens, the way Helaena’s eyes widen and the chill up your spine increases tells you all you need to know about who exactly it is that is at the door.

“Do I not even get a hello?” Aemond grunts from his spot against the door frame, entering the room to find what it is he originally entered the room for.

Your lack of response gives him all the answers he needs about how you feel about his presence in the room, a dry laugh escapes your mouth.

“Figures Princess” he sneers as he opens his desk drawer to grab a packet of cigarettes and a lighter.

“Kiss my ass Aemond” you don’t acknowledge him instead raising your middle finger behind you.

What you didn’t expect was for him to make his way across the room to lean down next to you, Helaena’s features register a look of utter panic.

“Have done before Princess.” His mouth is at the small of you ear, the statement sends a violent shudder through your body as he uses this opportunity to exit the room.

The rest of the day is uneventful and thankfully there are no further interactions with your ex-boyfriend. The design needed no further changes and so you and Helaena settle on a date for the following week to get the piece done.

The Following Week…

Grabbing your keys, you lock the front door to your apartment making your way to the studio. Today is the day you are getting your thigh piece done, the piece is a combination of various flowers and vines that will wrap around your inner thigh and down your knee.

Grabbing coffee and a family sized bag of sour patch kids you arrive at the studio excited to start your session.

When you enter however you are greeted by an apprehensive Aegon who approaches you with hands raised in defence.

“(Y/N) don’t panic, Helaena is ill she’s had to go home for the day.” His look tells you this is not the worst part of this encounter.

“I am in the middle of a session with a client, or I would do it.” He continues trailing off slightly with nervousness.

“Aegon please tell me you have just moved my appointment and you aren’t going to tell me what I think you are going to tell me.” Gods be good please do not get stuck with Aemond.

He emerges from the back of the shop leaning against the door frame behind the front desk, arms crossed over one another. A shit eating grin plastered over his annoyingly gorgeous face.

“Fuck no!” you exclaim attempting to make a dash for the door before you are caught by Aegon who carries you through to the studio despite your attempts to squirm away.

Finally, you accept defeat deciding it’s better to get it done and just not interact with him, settling into the wrapped chair sliding off your trainers not wanting to dirty the chair.

“Looks like your stuck with me Princess” he deadpans setting up his equipment.

You can’t help the pitted feeling that grows in your stomach looking at the man who was the love of your life, his hair is tied back in a loose bun with a few strands loose framing his sharp jaw and fierce cheekbones. Your eyes rake over his firm tattooed body, the black of the ink covering his body accentuated by the stark white of the sleeveless top he dons. His lower half clothed in ripped black jeans, the clink of the metal chain attached ringing in your ears.

Your mouth is salivating, he’s wearing that fragrance. You shake yourself from your unprompted horny daydream willing yourself to maintain some semblance of composure.

The first hour passes quickly and no words are exchanged, Aemond has the outline of the top piece done. He glances up from his hunched position as he eyes you reaching for the bag of sour patch kids.

“You know you are predictable right?” his voice is low as he continues to tattoo over the stencil on your thigh.

“How so Aemond, please enlighten me.” You reply lifting a handful of sweets into your palm, you are about to pick up the green one when Aemond interrupts.

“You’re going to eat the green one first, followed by the red and after all that you’ll out the purple one in a pile to the side because you hate the purple ones.” You huff in annoyance because of course he is right, you are a creature of habit and you do hate the purple ones. So instead, you decide to lift the purple one between your fingers, coughing to ger his attention you gesture for him to take the sweet between his teeth instead.

He lets out a quiet hum of approval at the tanginess of the sweet which sends a jolt straight to your core, you missed the delightful noises he used to make when you fucked him. The way he would throw his head back when you took his cock in your mouth, lapping at the head before taking him down your throat.

“Open your legs” his tone is dangerously low as he pushes up the fabric of your skirt; you are taken aback at his suggestion.

“I-Im sorry w-what, are you mental!” you want to shrink up the chair but would most definitely fuck up the tattoo if you were to do so.

He looks up before smirking, “So I can do the linkwork of the stencil on your inner thigh…” you sigh in relief whilst also cursing yourself for wearing a skirt why didn’t you just wear shorts. “Good to know that’s where your mind went, still as horny and eager as ever.” He pats your inner thigh before getting to work on the stencil.

Your mind drifted back to all the times you spent between the sheets with Aemond, the sight of his head between your thighs always a favourite.

You and Aemond broke up about 5 months ago after one major blowout argument. You had been out with Aegon, Helaena and a few friends at a bar on the other side of town when Aemond decided to lay into a friend of a friend who you were conversing with. Aemond you see is jealous, possessive and hard to read, after months of constant arguments and accusations of cheating being thrown around this one evening was your final straw deciding to break your own heart and end it.

Aemond didn’t take the breakup well, for weeks after he would bombard you with calls begging you for another chance and promising endlessly, he could change. When you stopped replying to the texts and blocked his number you thought that was the end of it until he showed up at your workplace and caused a scene. After that you kept your distance and avoided any contact with him fearing it would only make things worse.

Until last week that is when he entered the office and today where it seems the cycle has come full circle with him between your legs again, albeit for different reasons.

“I can hear your mind going a million miles an hour Princess, also your thigh is trembling so whatever thought it is that you have right now pack it up or I will end up fucking this up.” He doesn’t look up from his position, but you can feel his breath on the delicate skin on your inner thigh. Combined with the sensation, the smell of his cologne and the image of his head between your parted legs you are utterly fucked. You are sure your thong is utterly soaked; you curse the seven for the situation you find yourself in. You continue to pass sweets to Aemond as he works on the tattoo and a memory flash before your eyes of the night, he fucked you in here, it was after a particularly bad argument when you found yourself against the wall with Aemond. His cock pounding your cunt relentlessly, the anger from the argument fuelling the two of you fucking.

The memory has your cunt utterly soaked and you swallow loudly trying to conceal your heaving breaths from the man infront of you.

His knuckles are void of any colour he is gripping the gun so firmly, his teeth chewing the inside of his lip and his nostrils flared.

“(Y/N) …” he pulls your attention to him as you hum in response.

“I can smell your soaked cunt from here Princess, do you have any idea how much self-control I am demonstrating right now.” He sets the gun down on the table and sit up still between your legs to face you.

“Do you have any idea how hard I am right now; how hard it’s been to be inbetween your gorgeous thighs and see you lost in your horny little thoughts. To have to sit here for hours smelling your deliciously wet cunt and know you are soaked and not have my cock buried deep in that fucking cunt. Do you know how badly I want you right now.” He is growing more agitated as he continues with his rant and your eyes drift down to his crotch to see his jeans impossibly strained from his throbbing cock.

It’s all a blur but before you know it you are on him, hands fisting in his hair furiously and lips pulled into a searing kiss.

You utterly breathlessly “Fuck me, please fuck me Daddy!”

And with that both of your clothes are discarded furiously and the door locked as you prepare for your ex boyfriend to absolutely fucking ruin you once again.

#modern!aemond #hotd #hotd aemond #hotd smut #aemond kinslayer #prince aemond #aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen x reader smut #aemond targaryen imagine #modern!aemond targaryen #modern!aemond targaryen x reader

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flowerandblood · 4 months

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The Fall from the Heavens Universe Series Masterlist

[ dark • Aemond x Strong • niece female ]

[ warnings: sex content, oral sex, fingering, smut, angst, arranged engagement, obsession, violence, swearing, bullying, chauvinism, mention of injury, character's death ]

[ description: A cool distance turns into friendship and more when two children see that they can find refuge and understanding in each other. However, naïve dreams collide with the reality in which every event has consequences and what once could have been love becomes a dark, newly painful obsession. Angst, sexual tension, obsession, violence, madness, very dark Aemond. ]

The story in this series is an alternate reality from the oneshot Stay and love, leave and die, in which Aemond reads the letters his niece has sent to him over the years. They are the same characters and it shows what would have happened between them − I have changed the background story from their childhood slightly for the sake of the plot.

Characters & Series Moodboard Lady Strong Moodboard Aemond & Lady Strong Moodboard Alys Rivers Moodboard

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insomniakisses · 11 months

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Unexpected News and Welcome Additions

Character: Aemond Targaryen (HOTD)

Warnings/notes: swear words, mentions of pregnancy, pregnancy, aegon being an ass, aemond being a sweet baby, daemon flipping his shit, protective momma rhaenyra, happy alicent, your rhaenyras daughter u can choose adopted or not, ooc daemon? Slight ooc aegon?

Taglist: @introverbatim, @neobanguniverse,

Part one.

“We have some news.” Aemond grins, standing abruptyly silencing the chatter at the table.

All eyes direct towards him and you can see the confusion on your mother’s face, her eyes darting between the two of you. Never the less you accept his hand allowing him to pull you up next to him.

“We, well..” you pause looking at daemon how his eyes seem to stare into your soul. “We are engaged!” You cheer awkwardly.

You can see otto smiling with a nod, while alicent seems to be piecing everything together and u know she knows with the dart of her eyes towards your stomach. Helaena smiling softly at you seeming excited to have someone to talk to about married life.

On the otherside if the table you see your family, your mother gaping at you while your brothers hold blank faces and you can see the clenched jaw of daemon. Yet, the king seemed to be joyfull. “Wonderful news my dear! You have made me a very proud grandsire!” He chuckles.

Thats when shit breaks loose, aegon just had to speak up. He snickers rolling his eyes saying “Dear brother is such a pushover isn’t he mother?” You see her give him a look to shut up but as always he pays it no mind “I mean fucking the whore is one thing but to marry her once pregnant? God what kind of hold has she on you?”

You’re eyes water when all eyes turn to you, closing them and flinching into Aemond’s hold when Daemon stands. Slamming his hand on the table claiming you must have been forces that the greens were taking u hostage that it was all a plan.

It seems your mother had had enough of the dramatics, sending the children to bed including Helaena and Aegon. Before clearing the room of her husband and the hand stating this was a matter for her, Alicent, Viserys and the two of you to navigate.

—

“So.. you are to be married then?” Your mother asks tentatively causing you to bow your head in shame.

“I planned to explain to you.. But we didnt know how to tell everyone and-“

“Its okay sweet child,” the queen hums grabbing your face and kissing your head. You can’t help relax in her hold, “I can’t say i am upset to be made a grandmother again!” She grins.

“And i a proud grandsire of another fine knight or beautiful princess” the king adds, looking at your mother as if to ask for her opinion. It’s only then that you realise shes crying, the sight making you well up to.

“My baby is all grown up” she chokes out wrapping you in her arms and leaving several firm kisses to your head. Her hand unconsciously rubbing your stomach.

“Your… not mad?” You ask cautiously and she chuckles and says “how, my sweetone, could i be mad at you for falling for a mischievous second son thats also your uncle” and you cant help chuckle at the similarity between you.

—

“I cant! I can’t! FUCK! OW! Make it stop-“ you screamed squeezing your mothers hand tight as the maesters told you to push again. Your body felt like it was on fire. But your mother and Alicents soothing words lessoned your fear, slightly. You had been in labour for almost the full day and the babe seemed to refuse to be born and despite your please they seemed reluctant to let Aemond in.

Well, your mother was. You knew why deep down she was afraid that if the choice was given he would sacrifice you to save the baby. You however, knew that he would not. The thought would never cross his mind. So you begged and plead once more for him stating you would not give girl until he was with you. A task they knew you very well might do so they sent for him and the second he held your hand kissing your head and telling you he was there, was the most safe and relaxed you had felt all day.

Your son came quickly after that, a heavy and healthy baby your mother had remarked kissing your head and leaving with Alicent after she muttered her own praises of her newest grandson.

—

“We should call him Aemond.” Your husband grinned, causing you to slap his shoulder.

“No, I’m not calling him after you.” You groaned.

“And why not!?” He huffs clearly disappointed and you give him a look, “do you want me to be moaning our son’s name while we fuck?”

He shudders audibly gagging at the thought. “Perhaps not.” He sighs.

The two of you had been arguing over a name for hours, your son sound asleep in his arms as he gently rocked him.

“We could call him after someone else though”

You muse, the thought making him look up at you quizzically. “Who?”

“I was thinking Laenor…” you whispered afraid he may reject the idea but he hums nodding in approval. “A fine name from a honourable namesake, a fitting name for our little knight.”

You smile up at him, thanking the gods you got such a loving gentle husband.

“Should I let the maesters know then?” He asks, setting Laenor in your arms gently. “Yes, and could you send my mother in on your way? Id like to tell her first.”

—

“LAENOR GET BACK HERE!” You hear from your place by your husband, both of your turning to see the young prince holding what seemed to be a dragon egg while your Aegon chased after him.

The sight making you laugh, especially when Aegon reaches for the egg only for your son to dodge and throw the egg at his father. Aemond catching it with ease.

“Bested by a 3 year old, brother?” He taunts him, Aegon rolling his eyes in response snatching the egg back and placing it into the pot of hot coals by your bed side.

“Well excuse me for picking an egg out for my future nephew!” He defends, rolling his eyes when Aemond corrects him saying that he is to have a girl this time. The notion making you smile, hes always wanted a daughter to spoil.

Your silence is broken when your son pulls Aegons pants down running off in a bout of laughter.

“OI YOU LITTLE-“

—

“She’s beautiful” your mother coos, her finger moving to softly stroke the babes cheek. “That she is” Alicent joins placing a kiss to your head as she congratulates you.

“Have you thought of a name?” She quizzes looking at her son and then you.

You smile, telling them that their was really only one name that came to mind when you found out you had a daughter. You smile at your mother as you say it, “Visenya.”

She lets out a soft gasp, leaning over to kiss your cheek her heart touched that you would name your daughter that. You embrace her softly before placing the babe into her arms letting her and Alicent fawn over her as you lean back into your husbands arms.

“She’s Perfect” he whispers kissing you sofly. “Plus… Aegon’s gonna be pissed” he chuckles.

ANNNNNND DONE! i doubt there will be a part three :)

#aemond one eye #house of the dragon aemond #aemond the kinslayer #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond kinslayer #hotd aemond #aemond imagines #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen imagines #aemond targaryen #aemond imagine #aemond fic #prince aemond #house of the dragon imagines #hotd #house of the dragon x reader #hotd x reader #hotd imagines

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targs-on-zorses · 1 month

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Aemond Targaryen | Ewan Mitchell House of the Dragon Season 2

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toms-cherry-trees · 6 months

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Not Worthy Of You || Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Summary: An unexpected visitor at night brings some clarity to the last months

Word count: 2.9k

Warnings: Mention of B&C and Storm's End. No beta reading

Author's note: This was supposed to be short. This was supposed to be 1k words. But I got carried away. Enjoy!

The candles had long died out, and only dying embers remained in the smouldering fireplace, too feeble to give the room any light. Piercing darkness entered through the gaps in the drapes, the moonless night shrouding the Red Keep in a thick, ponderous veil of black. Not a sound disturbed the quietness of the Holdfast, nor the peace of those sleeping in it.

You stirred in the bed, the sheets rustling and a pleasant tingle spreading through your body as you stretched your limbs lazily. You felt well rested, perhaps for the first time in many moons. It had been a long time since you last woke up naturally, instead of being forcefully taken from your slumber by aches, cramps, and most recently, little cries throughout the night. At that thought your eyebrows furrowed, and still partially asleep you rolled over in the bed, your hand searching in the darkness for the little wooden cradle by your side.

Your fingers only found emptiness, the abandoned blankets still holding your newborn’s warmth.

Whatever drowsiness lingered in your mind soon dissipated as worry crept upon you, settling like a heavy weight atop your chest. You sat upright with such haste you felt faint, having to hold onto your head until the bright lights vanished from your vision. Fright quickly overcame your senses. You double checked the crib, pulling blankets out and looking under your bed, as if somehow the babe, barely a fortnight old, could have climbed out and hidden somewhere without you noticing.

Desperation clouded your thoughts, your heartbeat quickening and your breath coming in shallow pants. You scrambled from bed, barely having half a mind to grab a robe; the parky night air covered your skin in gooseflesh. You headed for the door, the call for help ready to sprout from your lips, when the smallest, softest of coos drew your attention to the opposite side of the chamber.

Now that your eyes had adjusted a bit, you could vaguely make out the shape of a person sitting in front of the large windows in a sturdy rocking chair your family had gifted you when they received the news of your impending motherhood. Slightly hunched forward, gently swaying back and forth, the rockers barely made noise against the thick carpet they laid upon. At first you believed it to be the wetnurse, who usually sat there to feed the baby, but you had specifically requested to have no servants in your chambers at night, wishing to carry the bulk of the childcare yourself. Hoping that that way you would feel more connected to your child, instead of staring at it like a foreign being that had been dropped on your lap by the Mother. Lovely, yes, and so dearly loved, but foreign nonetheless.

Soon it became obvious, however, that it was not the wetnurse, nor a maid, the one who sat in the chair. The dark figure sat tall, shoulders muscular and long legs stretched out, rocking the chair with a lazy sway of heavy boots. Oppressive panic stole the breath from your lungs at the vision of the unknown man, his arms positioned in a way that could only mean he currently held the infant in his embrace. The memory of what had recently happened to Helaena and her sweet child remained fresh in your mind.

You considered screaming for help, but not even a choked cry managed to come forth. Or maybe it did, and you just couldn’t hear it above the frantic hammering of your heart, rumbling in your ears like menacing war drums. Blindly you sought a weapon, any means of protection you could grasp to defend yourself and your child. Your trembling fingers gripped tightly the handle of an ornate letter opener you so happened to have left in the nightstand. You tried to swallow, but found your mouth to be as dry as the Dornish deserts.

Your feet barely made a sound in the flagstone as you carefully approached the intruder. Your mind overflowed with horrifying images of what had occurred to sweet Helaena. Even though you had not been witness to the act, the whispers reached you nonetheless, despite the Dowager Queen having carefully instructed the servants to not mention the crime near you, for fear of upsetting your mood and spoiling your health, right in the middle of your seventh moon of pregnancy. Despite the efforts, the nightmares lasted for weeks, fuelled by the clamour of your good sister’s wails as she escaped her chambers at night and wandered the halls calling for her lost son.

Slowly, as if wading through mud, you approached the chair. But it seemed the distance lengthened with each step, or perhaps your imagination had fooled you and you remained rooted in the spot. Your brain overflowed with horrific scenarios, a million outcomes to the situation, and the hopeless need to cry out, even if your mouth refused to open. As your eyes finally adjusted to the pitch darkness, however, you noticed silvery white tresses covering the person’s shoulders, and a thin dark strap wound around the head. The arm carrying the weapon lowered slowly, and the letter opener slid from your sweaty grasp onto the floor. Although weightless, in the silence of the night, the little piece of metal resonated like thunder.

The man didn’t flinch nor move to seek the source of such scandal; his smooth voice echoed in the chamber, a careful murmur to be heard without waking the baby.

“Abrazȳrys”

The familiar term of endearment should have calmed your nerves, but the word spoken so abruptly made you jump in your spot, hand coming to your bosom as your heart raced, as if ready to escape from the confines of your chest and make a run to safety.

“Seven hells, husband. You scared me half to death” You protested, pressing your cool palms against your heated cheeks and taking slow breaths. An immense wave of relief washed over you, mixed with an overpowering sense of weakness; all your energy had been consumed in the eternal moments you thought yourself and your child in danger, and now it took all you had not to collapse on your knees.

“My sincerest apologies, wife” He replied with a tone of propriety so usual in him, as if he merely apologised for bumping on you in the hallway, instead of scaring the living daylights out of you. His violet eye met yours as you moved within line of vision, taking seat in a low cushioned bench against the wall.

The bundle of blankets wrapping their firstborn appeared small and radiant against the dark planes of Aemond’s chest; the child tightly tucked in shades of green and trimmings of gold, chubby cheek snuggled against the warmth of her father’s body as she slept soundly. It amused you how easily the girl cozied up to Aemond, considering that, as far as you knew, they had not met before.

Fifteen nights and fourteen days had passed since their daughter Daenys came into their arms, letting her powerful cries be heard throughout the halls of Maegor’s Holdfast as the hour of the bat reached its peak of darkness. The child stunned those who helped bring her forth into the world, having been born with her eyes open, the right one violet like a Targaryen, and the left one with her mother’s colouring. A full head of silvery hair mixed with stray wisps of darker hues, giving her a colour no one could quite describe.

The day of her birth, her father shone in his absence. He evaded the Holdfast as if it were a cursed place. First he escaped towards the sparring yard, demanding to be taught the usage of a bastard sword, and turning a deaf ear to Cole’s comments that he should be with his wife. When the pestering became unbearable he tried to see his sister instead, but his wife’s screams echoed through every hall, making it impossible to ignore. Defeated and overwhelmed, he turned towards his dragon, far away from everyone. The smallfolk saw the massive shadow of a winged beast soar the skies, framed by the last rays of the setting sun as if engulfed in a fireball. Sight of him was lost with nightfall, but the dragon’s cries could still be heard, hidden behind clouds.

Aemond would have remained airborne until sunrise, had not young Daeron been sent out to pursue him and inform him that his wife had brought forth a most precious healthy girl. But not even such joyous news managed to lure the Prince back to the Red Keep. He flew again, towards unknown destination, not to be seen until the following day, well after the sun had begun its journey across the sky. Yet instead of rushing towards his family, he locked himself in the library, buried between books and scrolls until past dinner.

His attitude puzzled many around the court. Even if he perhaps found disappointment in the gender of his firstborn, his commitment to avoid his wife and child surpassed all levels of understanding; whispers began to spread of all sorts, most showing support to the beloved lady than to him. Some even said it was for the best; who would want a kinslayer to come near a newborn anyway?

No one could come even close to understand the why of his actions..

He had not been the same since Storm’s End. After his return, while his brother rejoiced and his elders frowned in worry, Aemond found himself numb, cold even, as if the icy winds and gelid rain that accompanied his flight that night had seeped into his bones. He only recalled broken fragments of what had occurred after he flew in pursuit of his nephew; the rattling of the saddle chains against the wind, Valyrian words shouted into the storm he did not remember pronouncing; a feeble, pathetic little fireball blown into Vhagar’s eyes, not doing more harm than a pebble would against the mountain. The horrific crunch of Arrax’s bones under ferocious jaws, as whatever remained of him and his rider floated down towards the restless sea.

The horrifying knowledge that his actions had caused the death of not one, but two boys.

After that, he shut himself more, if possible. He refused to see anyone, spending days and nights alone in his chambers, permitting only the presence of a servant to bring him his meals and news from the outside, isolated like a common prisoner. He abandoned his marital chamber, moving instead to the ones once meant for his wife; connected by a door he kept permanently locked and blocked.

His mother attempted to coax him out with gentle words and his grandsire with stern reproaches. You knocked on his door at nights, softly whispering his name, almost like a plea. He saw your shadow under the door, pacing or sitting on the floor against it, waiting for something to happen, to at least receive a word of acknowledgement; but night after night your hopes crumbled into dust, and soon you gave up. There’s no helping someone who doesn’t want to be helped

Yet a flicker remained, that the ice would melt with the fire of newborn life. That the cries of their so awaited child would break the trance Aemond had submerged into and return him to his senses.

He opened his door that day, yes, but only with the intention to flee.

And now, without warning or explanation, he showed up in the dead of the night, hidden by darkness like a lowly criminal, pushed by some unknown force to finally hold the being that had changed his status from man to father.

You sat with your hands on your lap, patiently awaiting for an explanation. Yet Aemond didn’t move, nor spared you a second glance; his whole focus on Daenys. His eye fixed on her soft features, arms protectively around her, holding her with dexterity you did not yet possess, but he had acquired with his little brother and his niece and nephews. One arm around the body, the other under, lithe finger cradling her head and gently caressing the silvery hair. Even in the dark, you could see the enthrallment in his gaze. The fearsome warrior Prince, wrapped around Daenys’ minuscule finger

“Husband?” You called out softly, trying to attract his attention

“I heard her cry” He replied, his thumb brushing across Daenys’ cheek “Whenever she cries I hear her from my chamber. You always tend to her so quickly, almost as if you awake before she makes a sound” You blinked fast, perplexed. You never imagined he could hear from his chambers, but again, Daenys had a pair of lungs that could be heard from across the city if you wanted to.

“But she cried and cried tonight, and nothing happened. I thought you could not settle her, but I didn’t hear your voice like when you speak or sing to her. So I came”

You wanted to be embarrassed that he had heard that too, but instead focused more on the fact that if Aemond knew all of that, he lingered at the door whenever their daughter cried, wishing to know what was happening with her. For a moment you imagined him with his ear pressed to the wood, holding in his breath to not miss a sound.

“She kicks a lot when she cries” He commented “I thought she wanted to be fed, or was cold. But you were asleep and I didn’t want to wake you, and I-” He swallowed before continuing, His index traced the baby’s features, from the roundness of the cheeks to the sharpness of the nose, a perfect match of his own.

“I took her in my arms and she settled. I suppose she didn’t want to be alone”

His voice held amusement. As if he could not believe his daughter, his own blood, could find comfort in his embrace. He had expected her to kick and scream and alert the world that a monster had come for her. But she didn’t. She just snuggled close to him and drifted off to sleep, lulled by the safety of her dad’s arms.

You felt your heart ache for him, as you finally began to comprehend some things. The why of Aemond’s distance. He had killed a boy. His bastard nephew, and the object of his ire, but a boy nonetheless. Because of that, Jaehaerys had been lost. And now he feared something similar would find his girl, for it seemed that a path of tragedy and blood followed his every step and dragged those close to him into the same fate.

You stood, not without difficulty, and moved to stand behind him, one hand on his shoulder. He shifted position, holding Daenys on one arm and holding your hand with the other, thumb caressing your knuckles. They remained in silence, both staring at the fruit of their love with adoration only a first time parent can conjure.

“She’s beautiful” He whispered “Gevie hae se hūra”

You only understood ‘gevie’, and that sufficed to make you smile. You leaned down until your chin rested atop Aemond’s shoulder, cheeks pressed against each other “She’s perfect. And she looks so much like you”

“Only the good parts” He replied, almost a bit harshly, the mere notion of his daughter resembling him setting him off. But soon he relaxed as Daenys stirred, mouth open in a quiet yawn which left her tongue trapped between her lips.

“She will be the best of us” You commented, your arms coming under his own to hold her. To hold them both; Aemond needed your support as much as the babe did. Right there, maybe even more.

“I will hurt her” He whispered, barely audible, his grip on Daenys tightening as he leaned down, his forehead against hers as he closed his eye. “If something bad happens to her, it will be on me”

“You would never” You rushed to reply, a coil tightening in your throat. How could Aemond think such a thing? He could never. You knew it. You knew it from the moment you saw him with the child in his arms, that he would burn down the entire country to safekeep that little girl

“Directly or indirectly, but I am dangerous for her. I’m not worthy of her” Sorrow laced his words, a sentiment foreign to your husband, who always held his emotions carefully and kept them well hidden under a mask of serene indifference. Seeing his vulnerabilities surface felt wrong, as if you had witnessed something private, a crack in the surface of an indomitable mountain. But he had no privacies with you; you were his wife, and you were meant to know him whole.

You moved to crouch before him, hands cradling his face and forcing him to meet your firm gaze “You are her father. The Gods blessed us with this gift because they deemed us worthy of her. And I know you won’t let anyone touch a single hair in her head, because they will be ash and dust before they can even get close” This time, you flattened your forehead against his, never letting go of him “You are worthy of this. Of her. You are worthy of good things”

His eye closed and he leaned into you, your bodies together shielding Daenys, keeping her warm. You two remained there for who knows how long, in silence, holding each other again after so long apart. It was him who broke the spell, his hand coming to circle your waist

“Let’s put her to sleep” He replied in a soft whisper “And then I’d like to sleep in your bed, if my lady wife will have me tonight”

You smiled without meaning to, feeling his warmth spread over you

“Tonight and every night. All the nights you want”

#aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen one shot #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x wife #aemond one eye #aemond kinslayer #house of the dragon #aemond stannies #marsie writes

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