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#daemon x aemond
crystallinefevers · 4 months
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shhh they’re negotiating their kinks rn
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theobjectofyourire · 1 year
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the fact that this is one of the best rivalries in the history of westeros the fact that I desperately love them both the fact that my heart will be ripped from my chest god I love this show
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c4r170 · 1 year
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🥹🫶🏼
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de4dking · 8 months
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they're soulmates.
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ladygi · 1 year
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Aemond Targaryen , the Kinslayer.
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sylasthegrim · 5 months
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Of Ancestry and Heritage
Aemond x Daemon ✦ light BDSM
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Requested by anonymous
Day 31 ✦ 1,630 words ✦ rated explicit
October Celebration Masterlist
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Aemond was still riding the high of his toast as he roamed the castle; sleep eluded him, and he had half a mind to go after Lucerys and get his tribute. Humiliation and rage were still ringing in his head, and more than a decade of resentment were coursing through his veins. Hatred, was what it was, hatred at what was done to him and the utter lack of remorse from the Strong boy.
Speaking his mind had felt good, but it was not enough. His blood was pumping through him at a rapid pace, both his heart and stomach heavy with a strange need he couldn't quite decipher. As he pushed a tapestry aside at the end of a small corridor and slipped into a dark, narrow passageway, he followed the line of the wall until he came upon a staircase that led him to one of the secluded balconies that overlooked the city.
The cold night air would do him some good, he mused.
As he came to the high rempart, he could only take a deep inhale before he was interrupted by a sneering tone.
"That was quite the display, boy," came Daemon's voice, and Aemond turned only to come face to face with his uncle.
The man was still dressed impeccably, with the same air of amusement he had had on his face as he had put a stop to the quarrel between him and Jacaerys to a stop. Aemond's jaw still stung slightly from the blow.
He didn't answer, instead opting for one of his indifferent hums that were usually enough to dismiss people. But Daemon was different, he had been told.
He didn't know the man, had only seen him on the occasion of Laena Velaryon's funeral, and at the time he had been more preoccupied with Vhagar's presence on the island and Aegon's terrible lack of manners. All he knew were the rumors, the retelling of events from various witnesses around the Keep, and what he had seen earlier in the Throne Room.
The man was deadly, vicious and ruthless. Aemond suddenly regretted coming out here without a weapon; he wondered if Daemon would take retribution for his insult toward his wife's sons.
"Your father would have your tongue for it, if he knew," Daemon sneered, and the hairs at the nape of Aemond's neck rose.
"He would not," he replied through gritted teeth, his hands curling into fists at his sides. Anger and apprehension coiled in his chest as Daemon took a step forward, his wrist resting casually on the pommel of Dark Sister.
Daemon caught Aemond's glance and he adjusted his posture, letting his palm glide over the smooth surface.
"Perhaps he wouldn't, you're already maimed enough," he smirked, and Aemond's anger flared again, his shoulders rising and his breathing deepening.
"You should be proud. You got a dragon for it," Daemon retorted in the face of his petulant display. "We've all got scars, wounds. If you live long enough you naturally acquire a few. They make us who we are."
"A scar acquired on a battlefield is a source of pride," he retorted, and Daemon shrugged.
"Family quarrels are battlefields of their own," the older man continued, turning his gaze to the city below. For a suspended moment, Aemond contemplated leaving -he was confident he could get far enough to alert guards if he truly felt Daemon was a threat.
But he could not deny the man fascinated him. Not the rumors, not the hearsays or even the precise recounting; the way the man moved, the way he talked, the way his sword seemed to be an extension of himself.
And so Aemond stayed. It became apparent as the seconds glided by and Daemon's smirk stretched his features; it had been a test, it seemed.
"I can see that look in your eye, boy," Daemon said with something akin to pride in his voice, and Aemond shivered despite himself. "You and I are made of the same stuff."
He took the compliment it was meant as, and his earlier admiration bloomed in his stomach. The man was a rogue, even in his own faction, it seemed. Else, why would he roam the castle at night and dismiss the opportunity of avenging his sons-in-law's honor?
"Shame it's all wasted on them," he then spat out. Aemond frowned as the man turned to him once more, circling him until the young man found himself caught between the terrace rail and Daemon's intense presence.
There was still a good distance between them, and he could slither away if he wished to, but his words kept him rooted to the spot.
"I know what it's like to feel unappreciated, eclipsed," the man said.
"You don't know how I feel," he seethed.
"I told you, I can see that look in your eye. That drive, that urge that keeps you awake at night," Daemon continued in a hushed tone, making Aemond shiver again. "I can see the way you look at me," he smirked, and Aemond jerked as the pommel of Dark Sister was pressed against his lower stomach.
He was hard in his leathers, caught between exhilaration and disgust -by the Gods, he should push his uncle away, call him the madman he was, even if it meant risking his safety, anything but suffering this humiliation.
Except Daemon didn't seem to care nor didn't he seem intent on mocking him. Instead, his dark purple gaze was drinking his face in as he angled the pommel lower, pressing it hard against Aemond's cock.
"There it is," he crooned as Aemond twitched and groaned. "I knew you'd like her," he added, throwing a quick glance at his sword.
Aemond looked down where the handle had slipped between the lapels of his doublet, nothing separating it from his skin but two layers of clothes. The friction was barely enough to bring him relief, and only served to incense him further.
Daemon chuckled in his ear, his grip on the pommel tightening as he pressed himself to Aemond's front. There was nowhere to hide, nowhere to go as he was caged in, surrounded by the heady smell of leather and dragon ash.
The man's breath was warm on his face as he nosed at his scar and Aemond flinched, his eye suddenly throbbing in a strange phantom sensation.
However it vanished as abruptly as it had come as Daemon stepped away slightly and slid a hand between them, pressing his palm hard over the length of Aemond's cock.
He jerked again, making a strangled sound.
"You're a madman," he hissed as Daemon started a slow, firm rhythm. He couldn't deny the friction felt good, and he was not indifferent to the man's charisma -he was everything Aemond strived to be, a dragon through and through.
"That same madness runs through your veins, nephew," he replied, the High Valyrian rolling off his tongue effortlessly. "You and I are the same."
Aemond's shame burned his cheeks as his cock throbbed and his eyes fluttered. He rocked his hips into Daemon's hand, earning himself a dark chuckle that made his blood boil and a sharp bite to his jaw.
As Aemond turned breathless and tense, his lips dropping open, Daemon caught the opportunity to press his mouth to his, his tongue curling against his with force. Aemond shuddered and pressed back against him, his cock throbbing against his leather, desperate for more direct friction.
"Daemon," he grunted as his uncle suddenly stepped away and drew his sword. A great thrill shook his spine and to his utter shame, he suddenly found himself at the edge, caught between terror and the most exquisite pleasure.
The glint of Dark Sister was terrifying and he remembered the swift sound the blade had made as it had sliced through Vaemond Velaryon's head in one clean strike.
Daemon smirked, a satisfied glimmer in his eyes as he wielded it expertly; he slid it between the lapels of his doublet and in one smooth twirl, sliced through the buckles effortlessly.
"Uncle," Aemond called as his bare chest was exposed to the cold night's air and the tip of Dark Sister met his chin.
"You're at the edge, aren't you?"
"Yes," he hissed and both his eyes throbbed, pricking with unshed tears.
"How much will it take, huh?" Daemon asked, but it seemed more of a musing than a real question.
Aemond shuddered as the sharp tip of Dark Sister traced a line from the hollow of his throat to his stomach, heat coiling at the base of his cock and the pressure making him delirious.
"Uncle, don't be cruel," he seethed, rooted to the spot as the tip of the sword pushed into his navel, gently, but it was sharp enough to draw blood.
"Has no one ever told you?" Daemon chuckled, licking his lips at the sight of red pearling on the pale skin. Aemond's flat stomach was tense and quivering, the length of his throbbing cock visible through his leathers. "Cruelty is my specialty."
With that, the tip of the blade sliced his skin from his navel to his waistband, grazing the tip of his cock through the thick fabric.
It was enough to send Aemond over the edge; the sharp sting of the cut ended in a furious spark of heat and he choked as his cock throbbed and pulsed. He groaned and moaned helplessly as the blood seeped under the waistband of his trousers, no doubt mixing with the pearly white of his spent.
His peak, intense and blinding, wracked every inch of his skin and left him boneless. Under the fascinated gaze of his uncle, he spent himself thoroughly, and for the first time in years, the tension that plagued his nights abated.
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Dividers by @saradika ✦ not beta read
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thebloodtooth · 1 year
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rottentiger-art · 1 year
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Rhaenyra and Aemond: If the uncle is hot, I can't take the hot out of the uncle 🤷🏼‍♀️🤷🏼‍♂️
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vysehrn · 9 days
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rhaenyra-daemon · 1 year
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"‘I’ve got this idea of avoiding Matt Smith and [even] avoiding eye contact.’ Because there’s this moment in episode eight where we have that intense stare-down. I thought there was something in experimenting and saving that moment for then. Aemond idolises Daemon, and this is the first time that he makes any sort of contact with him. Their family tree is actually a circle!"
— Ewan Mitchell, for THE FACE
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crystallinefevers · 4 months
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“touch me ‘til i vomit. i’m not scared of god. i’m scared he was gone all along. who will take the fall? who of us is stronger?”
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neldeathstar · 8 months
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Do not disturb!
Uncle Daemon gives the best head scratches 😏..! Aegon, you can stick with mommy!
What if these two would team up ;)?
Usually I'm drawing Tolkien fanart, but pls enjoy this exception :)!
❤️dedicated to my wife ❤️
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c4r170 · 1 year
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Prince Aemond Targaryen
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owlsnotes · 1 year
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Just. Look. At this.
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barbiedragon · 10 months
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Daemon x Aemond: Wrath (ira)
My soul is full of fire, wrath and tempestuous dirge; I feel but one desire, to find a sword and scourge ~ Ronald Ross
moodboard aesthetic for seven deadly sins week day 5: wrath for @hotdthemedweek
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theobjectofyourire · 1 year
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i'm not saying aemond's smiling so much after this moment bc he knows his uncle is watching but i'm not *not* saying it
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