freakassfemme

[freakassfemme]

your yuri collage looks so good

it’s always where the yahoo and never man ur your collage look so good

[freakassfemme]

where’s the yaoi bitch

im going to DOX you

[freakassfemme]

god grant me the strength to write my weird porn, the serenity to write my weird porn and the wisdom to write my weird porn

[freakassfemme]

dina // tlou2

[freakassfemme]

where’s the yaoi

WHO THE FUCK IS ASKING!! YOU WILL NOT USURP MY FUJOSHI THRONE!

[freakassfemme]

literally watch your mouth when you talk to me that way because WHAT!! shut UP!!!

[freakassfemme]

missing you and your writing so dearly

thank you <3 I miss writing! I just got a new job and am focusing on my physical and mental health needs right now — hopefully that leads me back to writing soon! Lots of love

[freakassfemme]

"should we tell authors on ao3 when we have discord conversations about their fics" i don't speak for everyone here but if y'all ever find a group chat discussing my fics you can should must and WILL send me screenshots of the whole damn thing. inflate my ego. gimme

[freakassfemme]

please! more simon/john q hc!!! 😭😭😭☝️

a/n: i just woke up again so this is pure word vomit LMAO -🪱

cws: SMUT BTC! 18+. fluff too, just bc i think simon’s a sweetie deep down.

—————————

- simon corruption kink is canon and you cannot tell me otherwise! he probably gets hard just at shotgunning smoke into your mouth, or watching you take a hit off a blunt for the first time.

- then again, i can see him being a total hypocrite and the second you ask for your own cig he’ll probably say something like “jesus, kid. really?” while he has a lit one in his mouth.

- the fake pout,,, god. he’ll be inside you, watching you practically turn to mush and tap the side of your cheek to wake you up while scoffing at you. “you good?”

- he loves painting his nails the same color as yours. party because it looks like your hand while he’s jerking himself off in the shower, partly because he thinks it’s “punk as fuck”.

- to continue with the corruption kink thing i feel like he’d love to bring you to get your first piercing or tattoo. he’s just so proud,,, watching you embrace the part of him people usually hate.

- simon acts like a hardass, but there’d definitely be times where he just lays his head onto his girl’s lap and cry if shit gets too much. after he’d just wipe his tears and mumble something about ‘being a bitch’.

- if you have lip with him for whatever reason, he’ll absolutely pin your wrists behind your back. rail your shit from behind. degrade you a little, and ask for forgiveness after. “this what you wanted? huh? i’ve made a fuckin’ monster. all y’u think ‘bout is cock.”

- simon loves training you. specifically, your throat. i think there’d be several days where he’s sitting at the edge of your bed, pushing your head down until your nose is at his pelvis.

- he would say “good girl.” out of instinct. that, and “attagirl.” he has no clue that it makes your brain fuzzy. it just feels natural.

- he would not let someone hitting on you slide. especially at a gig. if some random dude asks ‘how long you’ve liked PSYOPS’, he’d either punch the shit out of them — or say something snarky. “she’s the girlfriend of the fuckin’ lead singer, asshole.”

- “i’m fuckin’ with you.” is his go-to excuse for teasing you in public. pressing his hard-on into your thigh from behind. hiding in the crook of his neck as he mewls the words.

- he’ll smack your ass in public and not care who the fuck is looking. and if you make some sort of noise in retaliation, he’ll act all innocent. “what? i didn’t do nothing.”

- he will shoplift anything you want. by the time christmas or your birthday hits, you have a million little things he’s been piling up in his backpack.

[freakassfemme]

and still, you have me

Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Summary: After everyone has left his side, you go find him.

A/N: A little something to heal our hearts from the finale. Here's a shameless plug of my ongoing series with Aemond, which has similar vibes to this story. <3

Masterlist

The night was late and quiet, tension high in the Keep as war loomed on the horizon. You'd been walking the lone hallways of the castle for a while now, smiling at each member of the king's guard who bowed their head at you.

You'd decided to leave your shared room with Aemond when the night stretched on and he was yet to show up. Having heard of his disagreement with his mother and sister earlier, you had a hunch he was keeping his distance, denying himself respite as he sometimes did.

However, it took you only a short while to find him. At times you thought he did it on purpose, that he wanted to be found, by the people who cared enough to look.

You pushed open the doors of the council chamber, which was now empty. The long table and stone walls softly highlighted by the golden glow of torches and candles. At the far end of the room, the doors that led to the balcony were open, and there, you found your Prince.

Leaning on the balustrade, Aemond overlooked the immensity of King's Landing under the clear night sky, his long silver hair softly moving with the wind.

You walked closer to him, quiet and careful, taking notice of his tense shoulders and head hanging low. If you had to guess, you'd say his talk with Helaena hadn't gone well.

Aemond straightened his back when he heard you approaching, you could almost feel part of his guard coming up again. Despite the way most people feared him, there was something delicate about him, you knew well. Under so many defenses, he protected a fragile heart.

The Prince took a deep breath in, he still refused to turn around and look at you. "Will you leave my side too, ñuha prūmia?" There was a crack in his voice as he spoke the last of his words.

"Only death could make me do such a thing, my love." You promised in the same breath.

Aemond turned around then, taking the remaining step that still separated the two of you. His eye shone bright under the moonlight, as did the dried tear tracks on his cheeks. He tried hard to keep his face impassive as he raised a hand to touch you but pulled away before he did so.

The turmoil was evident in how he softly furrowed his brows as if his thundering heart caused him pain, in how his lower lip wobbled, and how his eye quickly filled with new tears as he looked at the last person who stood by him. There was fear, guilt, and sorrow as he turned into the lonely young boy he once was before your eyes again.

"And what if-" Aemond stumbled in his words. He gulped, breathing through his nose, "What if the Stranger takes me before he does you? What then?" His voice was low and quiet, as if couldn't bring himself to utter the question any louder.

"Then I shall live the rest of my days in black, mourning the loss of the one I love," you spoke just as softly, gently taking one of Aemond's hands in yours. And he shuddered, you couldn't know if it was because of your touch or because of your words. "Yet glad that I got to share my time with you."

Aemond's lips parted, and the tear in his eye hung by his lashes when he blinked. There were suddenly no walls, he could crumble before you, just like that. His hand gripped yours tighter, and before his tear rolled down his cheek, he closed his eye, leaning forward so his forehead rested on yours. "Nyke ȳdra daor gūrogon ao."

You kissed the words, almost as an act of rebellion, your lips finding the edge of his with lingering affection. "Yn emā nyke mirre keskydoso." Devotion and love dripped from each syllable.

A low hum came from Aemond, and he followed after you once you pulled away, chasing your warmth.

"I will go with you," You spoke with ease, catching his gaze so he saw the sincerity in your eyes.

He kept quiet, with shallow and shaky breaths falling past his lips as he simply looked at you. Yet his hand held yours tight, refusing to let go.

"To Harrenhal. I will fly with you." You brought your free hand up, thumb brushing over Aemond's cheek and drying away the single tear that had fallen.

He closed his eye at your touch, and allowed himself to fall, for you were there to catch him. Aemond leaned his head on your shoulder, both arms coming to circle your waist and pull you against his body.

You held him back, squeezing him to you as your fingers buried in his hair. You could feel his tears dampening the fabric of your dress, could feel his nails digging into it with desperation as if you'd vanish if he didn't hold tight enough.

Aemond had refrained from asking you, because of how close you'd been with Rhaenyra once. Perhaps he lacked the courage to ask you to choose sides and risk losing you. Yet now, as you held his broken pieces together under the stars, he realized you'd chosen his side long ago.

If it would be you and him against the world, then so be it.

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

High Valyrian translations: ñuha prūmia = my heart nyke ȳdra daor gūrogon ao = I don't deserve you yn emā nyke mirre keskydoso = but you have me all the same

Aemond's taglist is open, let me know if you'd like to be added. Or you can follow @talesofesther-library and turn notifications on to know when I’ve posted a new story/chapter.

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keeps me motivated to continue posting here, so I’d appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment. <3

You do not have permission to repost, copy, or translate my works on any platforms (even with credit), please respect.

[freakassfemme]

I'll crawl home to her

Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Summary: Tales of Aemond's love for you.

A/N: In Ewan's words; the only thing that can beat Aemond is love. If you like this story, you'll like my ongoing series too. ;)

Masterlist

Aemond loves you behind closed doors.

He loves you with the way his pinky hooks around yours under the tables, during supper and council meetings.

He loves you with subtle looks and barely there smiles across rooms filled with people where he can only see you.

He loves you when he comes back tasting of heartache and guilt, with raindrops or tears staining his cold skin and clothes clinging to his body. When he stumbles into your room whispering sins against your embrace only for you to kiss the words, kiss his cheeks, kiss his scar, kiss the tears away. He clings to your body, your nightgown nearly ripping with his desperation.

But it's alright, because there's only you and him and the soft light of the candles in your room. It's alright because you cradle his head, fingertips burying between wet silver locks. It's alright because you whisper forgiveness into his ears, even if he feels undeserving.

And maybe war is now inevitable, but for a fraction of a moment, Aemond feels entirely at peace.

He loves you when you watch him from afar and notice the stiffness of his shoulders, the tapping of his fingers on the table. And then you'll find an excuse to call his name and get him away from the crowds, asking for some help with something mundane. You lace your fingers together, loose and yet so present. You take a familiar route through a lone hallway, you open the doors to the library hidden away in the confines of the Keep, pull him in, and close it again.

Aemond falls to you, his forehead is leaning against yours, his eye is closed, and he can breathe. You feel like fresh air. He nuzzles his nose to yours before asking for a kiss, it's all timid and bashful, he's not sure how to love yet, all he knows is that he feels it, insistent and warm; all-consuming.

But you hold his cheeks, you guide him, you teach him. Your fingers are in his hair and your soft lips touch the corner of his mouth; all delicate and devoted, Aemond doesn't know what to do with this much love, he might crumble.

His hands are around you, all over, and he's almost afraid to hurt you; even if you promise time and time again that he could never. Aemond sighs against your lips, and it sounds a lot like; "I am yours."

He loves you because there is no need for words with you. When he holds himself back from going to you all day—between planning for a war he's fighting alone and hearing his own mother talk of him as if he were a monster—the arrival of the night feels like a reprieve. It's the moment he waits for the most, for he can lay down his armor.

Aemond walks by the garden, picking up a single blue flower. He hides it away as he walks to your chambers, no one needs to know—even if everyone already knows anyway. He gives you the blue flower, with pink on his cheeks; he feels like a young boy in love—perhaps he is.

You kiss him, sweet and soft and tasting like the blueberries you stole from the kitchen earlier. And Aemond could cry, because if he has you, he's not alone.

You're the one who takes off his eyepatch, and then his coat, and his pants, and pulls loose his hair—you brush your lips over his shoulders when you do it, and he knows no one could love him the way you do. There's nothing sexual about it even if you're the muse of all his desires. He simply lays with you in bed, his head on your chest, and you trace the outlines of his body as you speak about your day. There are goosebumps on his skin, and he loves to hear you speak, about anything and everything, it soothes his troubled soul.

It's quiet, and Aemond falls asleep with the feeling of you braiding his hair. It'll be a little curly in parts when morning comes. He never minds it.

And he loves you with the way he won't be able to speak the three words. But he'll trace and kiss them on your skin every single night. And you understand, because you always say them back.

He loves you because of the way you sometimes hold the tip of his fingers with yours behind your backs.

He loves you with the way he'll threaten death to anyone who looks at you wrong.

He loves you with the way he could burn the whole world and yet not let a single flame touch your skin.

He loves you because you'll kiss his lips even if he tastes of blood and war.

He loves you because you'll hold his pieces together when everyone else is trying to tear him apart.

He loves you because even in the darkest of days, you're always there in the end.

He loves you because even if you exchange nothing but glances when amidst other people, you'll embrace his very soul in private.

He loves you because you wait with bathed breath when he takes Vhagar to the skies, and never think twice about mounting on a horse to gallop towards the woods outside of King's Landing when you spot the dragon's large silhouette bringing him back.

You jump from the white horse, Aemond jumps from Vhagar, and you meet each other in the middle. He holds you close in a needy embrace, as if each minute could be the last. And when you pull back, you don't ask questions or make demands, you simply run your thumbs over his cheekbones and breathe easiness into his skin. The feeling of you is always like coming home.

Amidst a world of war, you're a safe haven.

He loves you because you are the one who taught him what love feels like.

Aemond loves you behind closed doors. Wholly, truly, passionately. And with all of him that no one else is allowed to see.

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Aemond's taglist is open, let me know if you'd like to be added. Or you can follow @talesofesther-library and turn notifications on to know when I’ve posted a new story/chapter.

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keeps me motivated to continue posting here, so I’d appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment. <3

You do not have permission to repost, copy, or translate my works on any platforms (even with credit), please respect.

[freakassfemme]

solace

Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Summary: You take care of Aemond's hair after a rough day. You take care of him, too.

A/N: I fear I might be obsessed with this little concept. And Aemond truly deserves some genuine love. :)

Masterlist

Aemond's chest hurts. He's not sure if it's because his heart is beating too erratically or if it's because he can't hold a steady breathing pattern. Perhaps it's both.

He's looking down at his hands resting on his lap. He notices the barely there tremble to his fingertips but he pretends not to. There's a low and sweet humming of a song coming from behind him, Aemond knows you do it when you're concentrated doing something you enjoy, and it raises goosebumps on his bare arms and back.

Earlier, when Aemond walked into your chambers seeking the comfort your presence offered him after a hard day, you'd seen him struggling with the tie holding half of his hair back, and offered to help. Perhaps against his better judgment, Aemond's tired mind decided to accept.

Now, the Prince sits on the padded stool in front of the vanity in your chambers, with only his pants on, and hair loose falling over his shoulders while you slowly undo small knots and tangles. The night sky is clouded but there's golden candlelight illuminating you and him.

Aemond can't bring himself to look up in the mirror. It had taken months for him to accept taking off his eyepatch in your presence, but as much as he would hate to admit it, he hasn't yet dared to look into your eyes whenever he did so. He fears for what he might see. He learned to love you—or at least he thinks that's the overwhelming feeling that swells his heart when he's with you—and he's reluctant as to what he might see in your eyes during moments like these.

But you're still gentle with the way you handle him, too gentle. Aemond feels faint when you love on him like this, he doesn't know what to make of it; it's new, it's unfamiliar. You touch him with a kind of delicacy that's foreign to him, but he thinks that if he were to be deprived of it he would already miss it.

Your fingers bury into his hair, nails barely scratching the scalp. You go from the top of his head, to behind his ears, and down the nape of his neck, slowly. Silver strands slide in between your hands like silk. You touch him carefully, each motion thought of and intentional. Repeating the pattern again, and again.

And Aemond is quiet, not moving a single muscle. Because what if he moves and you stop?

He feels almost selfish for not wanting you to stop touching him, ever.

But you're so gentle, it might just break him. There's a tear caught on his lashes, if Aemond blinks it'll fall, and you'll see his weakness.

Aemond rubs the pad of his thumb against his other palm. What would you think of him then?

The two of you haven't been together for long. Would you think him unbefitting for you? Undeserving?

Would you leave?

Aemond holds his breath until there's an ache in his lungs. He doesn't want you to leave.

You've moved on to softly rub your thumbs against his temples, because there's a crease on his eyebrows that he hasn't noticed yet. You take extra care when you touch his scarred side, and Aemond feels his lower lip wobble. He bites onto it, hard, but then the lower lid of his eye starts trembling and he feels helpless.

Aemond realizes that it's becoming hard to get air back into his lungs, he's a little overwhelmed. He's been alone for too long, it's hard to unlearn that.

He only notices his tears falling when the first one drips down on top of his hand and slowly rolls down the slope of his palm. There's no going back after it, and his cheeks shine with the wet trails left behind by the many tears that follow. But Aemond remains quiet, almost concerningly quiet.

Maybe that's why he's suddenly watching you kneel down in front of him. Shame paints his insides in an ugly color, and Aemond lowers his head, eye closed. He holds his breath so no sobs escape.

He feels, however. Your hands close around his, in a tight but still oh-so-gentle grip. Your thumb brushes up and down, up and down, until Aemond brings himself to follow along with his breathing—up and down, in and out. Shaky and unsteady, but you bring him back.

It's bewitching, how you can calm him.

"Hey." Your voice is all sweet and warm, like the first ray of sun on a cold day, "Did I hurt you?"

Aemond's eye finally opens, wanting, needing to see you.

Aemond realizes he shared a lot of firsts with you. You were the first to hold his heart with kind hands, you were the first to make him feel calmer in your presence than when he is alone, you were the first to touch him as if he's something worth caring for. And now, you're the first to look at him with nothing but unconditional affection.

There's a glint to your eyes, a tilt to your brows and lips. He could crumble under your gaze, it burns and soothes all the same, as if there's nothing about him that you would change. Nothing you wouldn't love.

His voice almost fails him when he speaks; "You could never." But he means it.

The candlelights shape your easy smile as you get up. Aemond's eye follows you, squeezing one of your hands he still holds. His lips part and he feels how dry they are. He's raw, exposed, bare. He finds he doesn't mind it; Aemond doesn't want to wear an armor with you.

You reach to push his hair behind his ear, watching as his eye closes again and he melts for you. Fingertips linger just beside his scarred cheek before you pull him in, one hand around his shoulders and the other cradling his head.

Aemond buries his face against your stomach without protest, both his arms circling your waist and nails almost digging into the fabric of your clothes with desperation.

Your hand resumes to smooth down his hair while you hold him, and your melodic humming returns. Silver strands give beneath and curl around your fingers as if they were made only for you to touch.

Aemond breathes you in. His heart is so full of you that he can barely call it his own.

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Aemond's taglist is open, let me know if you'd like to be added. Or you can follow @talesofesther-library and turn notifications on to know when I’ve posted a new story/chapter.

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keeps me motivated to continue posting here, so I’d appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment. <3

You do not have permission to repost, copy, or translate my works on any platforms (even with credit), please respect.

[freakassfemme]

Bedding Ceremony

•───────•°•❀•°•❀•°•❀•°•───────• Prompt: How they act during their bedding ceremony and the events leading up to it. Characters: Aegon II Targaryen, Aemond Targaryen, Gwayne Hightower

•───────•°•❀•°•❀•°•❀•°•───────•

Aegon II Targaryen

✿ Aegon would be looking forward to the bedding ceremony, eagerly anticipating it as he drinks throughout the feast. It’s a wonderful tradition in his mind, and he can’t wait to be undressed and lead to the bridal chambers with you. ✿ If you expressed discomfort or anxiety about the bedding ceremony leading up to it, while I don’t see him forgoing it, he would at least try to alleviate your nervousness. I don’t think he would truly understand why you were nervous or uncomfortable, because in his mind, it is custom for a wedding, but he would still try to make you feel better regardless. ✿ Keyword: Try. I don’t think Aegon is the best at comforting others in general, but he would genuinely try his best. Surely that must count for something. ✿ “It’s tradition,” He would start, his tone light but gentle as a smile lit up his face, “Thousands of brides before you have been undressed for their husbands, and thousands more will after you.” His smile would become tense if he noticed that his words did not have the soothing effect he had intended. “It’s not so bad. I promise.” He would pat your hand, grasping it to give it a small, comforting squeeze before releasing it. ✿ He would, of course, encourage you to drink during the feast leading up to the ceremony in an attempt to calm your nerves and loosen you up. If he noticed you fidgeting or looking nervous, he would hold his cup up to your lips until you took a sip.

✿ Granted, for every sip you took, he would probably take about three. He would likely be a bit tipsy by the time the bedding ceremony is announced. If you didn’t seem as nervous as you did before and he started getting impatient, he would stand up and announce it was time for the bedding himself. ✿ He would laugh at every single ribald joke, even more so at the ones directed at you. The women in attendance might would be struggling to move him forward and undress him because he would be in a fit of giggles over what his “dragon” would do to your “uncharted cave”. He’d probably throw in a few jokes of his own in response. ✿ He’d feel a surge of pride in his chest every time someone would pay a compliment to your body as if he’d been complimented himself. His smile would grow with each comment and he’d be nodding along like yes, that’s my wife and she does have great breasts and pretty lips and wonderful thighs thank you for noticing; I, too, have noticed. ✿ “She does, doesn’t she?” He would giggle out with the proudest, almost reverent smile plastered on his face. ✿ If he was being led ahead of you to your bedchambers, he would constantly be looking back at you and smiling as the men led and undressed you. The ladies would have to be leading him like a child by the arm because he is not paying attention to where he’s going. ✿ “Hurry and bring my beautiful bride to me,” he would call out once he was tucked into the bed in your bridal chambers. The moment you’re presented to him by the men, his arms are around you and he’s pressing kisses to your neck and shoulders while the guests make their exit, some hooting and whistling as they close the door behind them. ✿ “That wasn’t so bad, was it?” He would ask once the two of you were alone, though the suggestions were already pouring in through the door. (It definitely was that bad). ✿ If you agree that is was not so bad, he would grin and pull you into a kiss, his hand immediately snaking down to your breast. ✿ If you disagreed, he would be a little shocked, his expression turning slightly pouty, but he would resume his kisses, promising that he would make it up to you.

✿ Aegon would be eager to consummate the marriage, and he wouldn’t be put off by the fact that there were people outside the door listening in and calling out suggestions. If anything, it would egg him on, though he would probably snort at some of the suggestions. ✿ He would definitely want to make you moan loud enough for them all to hear. ✿ “Aw, come on now, don’t be shy. I want everyone to hear how good I make you feel,” he would murmur in your ear, giving your nipple a teasing pinch and changing his angle as he thrust into you with the intention of making you cry out louder.

Aemond Targaryen

✿ Aemond is a bit more complicated. He wouldn’t be looking forward to the bedding ceremony; in fact, he would likely be dreading it during the entirety of the feast, not that you would be able to tell by looking at him. He knows that it is tradition and he knows what is expected of him, and as a dutiful prince and husband, he would swallow whatever negative feelings he would have and do what needs to be done. ✿ While Aemond would not bring it up himself, if you mentioned that you were nervous about the ceremony, he would listen to you quietly and give a little hum to let you know he’d heard you. While initially, he might remind you what’s expected of the two of you, he would at least make note of your worries. ✿ When the time came, if you still seemed nervous, he would tactfully say that his new wife was not comfortable with the ceremony or was not feeling well, so the two of you would forgo the ceremony and attend to each other privately. ✿ And attend you he would. The moment the two of you were alone in your bridal chambers, a majority of the tension from the day would seem to melt off him. He’d be relieved that he could at least have you in peace. He’d likely be gentler with you as a result.

✿ Make no mistake, though the ceremony itself was skipped, the bedding would still occur. You’re his wife, and he would want an heir, and he'd want one as soon as possible at that. So while he might go easy on you he wouldn’t exactly be letting you rest much on your wedding night. ✿ If the marriage was arranged with a short betrothal period, it would be a rather impersonal night. He would make sure you were cared for and satisfied as much as he was, but that night (and the next that followed) would be duty-driven more than anything else. However, that is not to say the two of you would not find pleasure in each other. ✿ Now, if your betrothal was a longer one and Aemond had a fondness for you before the wedding (and bedding) it would be a much more tender experience, though no less demanding. ✿ However, if you did not outwardly mention any nervousness or reluctance to go through with the ceremony, Aemond would simply bear it. ✿ It would likely be Aegon to announce it was time for the bedding once he grew tired of the feast. Aegon would be the first to move to unlace your gown and would be the loudest in his jokes. ✿ There’s a lot of potential for jokes, after all. Aemond does have the largest dragon in the world, after all… how lucky his wife must be. ✿ I don’t think Aemond would enjoy most of the humor of the night, unfortunately, but he would bear them as he bears all else. ✿ Aemond would not allow any of the women undressing him to touch his eyepatch. If it had to be removed before he entered the bridal chambers, he would do so himself. He wouldn’t want it just ripped off of him like the rest of his clothes. Despite his stoic exterior, the loss of his eye is a very sensitive spot for him still. If it must be exposed, it should be by him. ✿ Unlike Aegon, instead of feeling pride when one of the men complimented your body, he would feel mostly possessive. He’d be feeling a lot of emotions all at once. There would be a small bit of pride that you were beautiful and you were his, that people were bearing witness to his claim over you, but it would also be overshadowed by the fact that others were touching you, that they were undressing you. But it is tradition, so there isn’t much to be done about it.

✿ Aegon’s presence might be the most difficult thing for Aemond to swallow during the ceremony, regardless of his other feelings. Aemond’s feelings about his older brother are complicated and that tends to bleed into everything. Even if it’s a political marriage, even if it is tradition, he wouldn’t be fond of others touching his wife, but especially Aegon. A whore is one thing, but you were to be his. And if it’s more than just politics? More than one guest in attendance would be able to attest to the fact that your husband looked like he wanted to kill someone on the way to the bedchamber. But he would swallow his emotions on it. ✿ If it is more than just an arranged marriage and Aemond managed to retain his eyepatch up until the two of you alone, he would allow you to take it off of him. ✿ That being said, Aemond would definitely end up taking his pent-up frustrations from the feast out on you during the actual bedding. He would at least make sure you were prepared to take him, but he would be rough that night. ✿ He would try to tune out the shouts of suggestions pouring in from the other side of the door, and he would want you to do the same. He doesn’t want you focusing on outside sources the first time he’s inside you. ✿ “Ignore them. I’m the one in front of you. Focus on me,” He would murmur in your ear as he thrust into you. That would be his goal, to make you feel so good that you forgot all about your wedding guests. ✿ He would want to make you moan loud enough to drown them all out. There would be a tiny part of him that wanted those lingering outside the room to know that he could please his new wife. Ultimately, I think he’d just want it to be over so the guests would leave. ✿ He would definitely make it up to you on the second or third round once they’re all gone and it’s just the two of you.

Gwayne Hightower

✿ Gwayne would be a healthy mix of Aegon and Aemond, but I think he would be leaning slightly more on the Aegon side of things in terms that he’d be more comfortable in the tradition and lighthearted in the proceedings. ✿ He’s totally for and looking forward to the bedding ceremony, and similar to Aegon, he wouldn’t initially stop to think that his wife might be uncomfortable with it and why. He couldn’t wait to be undressed and watch you be undressed in turn, knowing that at the end of it, he would be able to claim you in the eyes of gods and men. ✿ If you brought up any concerns, he might even think you were joking at first, smiling and letting out a chuckle. His first instinct would be to brush it off as nerves on your part. You were his bride and brides were almost always bashful on their wedding night. He would consider your timidness to be endearing. ✿ “You’re beautiful. You’ve nothing to feel shy about,” He would try to assure you, offering you a charming smile and perhaps even a small, tender kiss on your knuckles. ✿ He’d keep an eye on you throughout the feast (you were eating from the same plate and drinking from the same cup after all), and when he noticed how genuinely anxious you seemed, he would feel a bit more protective of you. ✿ He would still be disappointed if his wife really didn’t want to proceed with the ceremony, but ultimately, he would be more likely to choose to forgo it if she was truly uncomfortable. Once he considers things from her perspective and realizes that it wasn’t just nerves but genuine discomfort, he would be much more understanding. He would relent easier if he knew his wife and perhaps had been betrothed to her for a while. ✿ Like yeah, he’d be a little disappointed, but this is the woman he’s going to spend the rest of his or her life with and will (hopefully) be the mother of his children, so he’d rather start the marriage off on the right foot. Plus that means he gets to be the one to undress her and she can undress him, so his disappointment would be short-lived. He’s a product of the culture he’s been raised in, but Gwayne is a kind person beneath it. ✿ He would tease her though, once they were alone. As he unlaced her gown, he would be saying “Oh? So you didn’t want anyone seeing this, hm? These? They’re magnificent.” while cupping your breasts and teasing your nipples.

✿ “Perhaps it is for the best… the whole of the Seven Kingdoms would be beside themselves with envy. The women for your beauty and the men because you are mine.” ✿ He’d be laying the charm on thick, focusing on easing your worries and making you feel more comfortable. ✿ Now, if all things go according to custom and you do not outwardly express the wish to forgo the ceremony, things would play out very differently. ✿ Regardless, Gwayne would still want first rights to his wife, so as his arm is grabbed by the nearest woman, he’d reach over with his free hand to undo the top lace of your wedding gown, grinning cheekily before he’s pulled away from you. ✿ Like Aegon, he would find a majority of the bawdy jokes amusing (the Hightower big cock jokes write themselves), laughing and shaking his head as they were spouted towards the two of you. He would raise his brow at the more outlandish ones, though he would have his own responses for anything he found too degrading towards you (degrading even by Westeros standards, at the very least). ✿ “Be gentle with my bride,” he would warn if he noticed the men getting a bit too rough with you. Though he would veil it with a lighthearted tone, there would be a layer of seriousness that made itself known. He wouldn’t want them ripping your gown off in their haste to undress you. Gwayne would want you treated delicately. ✿ There is a good chance that you were a virgin, being of noble birth, so Gwayne would be aware that you were likely nervous about the act itself. He would want to make you giggle, kissing your neck while his fingers danced across your stomach. ✿ He might scoff at some of the suggestions your drunken guests shout through the door, but he’d still find most of them amusing. “Ridiculous. Do they think you’re a wooden doll to be bent every which way? Though…” (He secretly stores some suggestions in his mind for when you’re more experienced).

[freakassfemme]

Hi! I might have already asked this I can't remember but if i didn't x reader play fighting/wrestling with aemond plz?????? Like reader could even surprise him by gett the upper hand?????? Doesnt have to be but can be nsfw if yu like too. Love youxxx

Tangled in Silver

Requests are closed!

- Summary: You challenge Aemond and win more than you intended. His desire.

- Paring: female!reader/Aemond Targaryen

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround

- A/N: This is the only requests of its kind I've received, dear anon. ☺️

The sun was beginning to set behind the horizon, casting a warm lighted hue across the training yard of the Red Keep. The familiar clang of swords and the shuffling of boots on gravel filled the air, but today, you had something else in mind. Aemond had been training for hours, his single eye focused and determined as he sparred with Ser Criston Cole. But when you approached, his intense gaze softened ever so slightly. You had always been able to break through that icy exterior of his—sometimes with words, other times with actions.

“You look tired, Aemond,” you teased, a smirk tugging at the corner of your lips. “Ser Criston is making you work too hard.”

Aemond turned to you, wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. His eye gleamed with a challenge. "Tired? Hardly. Do you think you could do better?"

The dare in his voice was impossible to resist, and before you knew it, your body was moving toward him. The swordsmen around you cleared a space, recognizing that this was not going to be a formal sparring session but something far more playful. You narrowed your eyes at him, dropping into a mock fighting stance. "Maybe I can," you replied, a grin flashing across your face.

Without warning, you lunged toward him. Aemond, quick as ever, dodged your advance easily, his long, silver hair catching the last rays of the sun. He didn’t draw his sword, nor did you, as this was not about combat—this was about something else entirely.

“Is that the best you can do, Y/N?” he asked, a chuckle escaping his lips.

You narrowed your eyes, determination swelling in your chest. He always had a way of underestimating you, though whether he did it on purpose or not was a mystery. You feigned another lunge, this time stepping back at the last second, catching him off guard as you hooked your leg behind his and pushed him forward.

Aemond stumbled, a look of surprise flashing across his features before he regained his balance. His smirk returned, though there was a new spark of something in his gaze—something deeper, more intrigued.

“Impressive,” he muttered, circling around you now, his steps careful and predatory. “But you won’t catch me again.”

“We’ll see about that,” you taunted, your pulse quickening as he closed the distance between you.

Your bodies collided as you tried to outmaneuver him, but Aemond was stronger than you, and you felt his arm wrap around your waist, trying to pull you off balance. You twisted, using your smaller size to slip out of his grip and duck under his arm. Before he could react, you jumped onto his back, locking your legs around his waist and hooking your arms over his shoulders.

He staggered for a moment, clearly caught off guard, before letting out a laugh—an honest, rare laugh that you seldom heard from him. It rumbled through his chest as he tried to pry you off. "You fight dirty, Y/N," he grunted, but there was no malice in his voice.

"I fight smart," you corrected, tightening your grip on him, even as his hands found your wrists, pulling you down with him.

Aemond twisted sharply, sending both of you crashing to the ground, but before he could pin you beneath him, you managed to roll, ending up on top of him, straddling his waist. His chest rose and fell with heavy breaths, his eye wide in surprise, but there was something else there too—something that sent a thrill down your spine.

“You’re not as invincible as you think, Aemond,” you whispered, your hands still pressed against his shoulders, your body close enough that you could feel the heat radiating from him.

For a moment, neither of you moved. The playful tension between you shifted into something deeper, more charged. His eye darkened, and his hands, which had been gripping your arms, softened their hold, slowly sliding down to your waist. The rough fabric of your clothes did little to dull the sensation of his touch.

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” he murmured, his voice low, sending a shiver through you. His gaze dropped to your lips, lingering there for a heartbeat too long.

You leaned in closer, your heart pounding in your chest as the world around you seemed to fade. All that remained was the sensation of his body beneath yours, the way his hands tightened slightly at your hips, as if he were fighting against his own restraint.

“Prove it, then,” you dared, your voice barely above a whisper.

Aemond’s breath hitched, and in one fluid motion, he reversed your positions, rolling you onto your back, his body hovering just above yours. His hair fell around his face, a silver curtain that framed his intense gaze. His lips were so close to yours now, the anticipation almost unbearable.

“You really want me to?” he asked, his tone rough, his eye searching yours for the answer.

Your body was already answering for you, every inch of you leaning into him, craving more than just the playful banter you’d shared moments before. You reached up, your fingers brushing against his jaw, pulling him down just enough that your lips barely touched his.

“Yes,” you breathed, the single word sparking the fire that had been smoldering between you.

Aemond closed the distance, his lips crashing against yours with a fervor that took your breath away. The kiss was heated, urgent, as if he had been waiting for this moment just as long as you had. His hands roamed your body, no longer restrained, his fingers digging into your sides as his lips moved against yours, claiming you in a way that made your head spin.

You kissed him back with equal intensity, your hands threading through his hair, pulling him closer until there was no space left between you. Every touch, every breath, felt like it was setting your skin on fire.

When he finally pulled away, his lips were swollen, his breathing ragged. He looked down at you, the usual controlled, composed Aemond nowhere to be found. In his place was a man consumed by desire, and for the first time, you realized just how much power you had over him.

“Next time,” he murmured, his voice thick, “I won’t go easy on you.”

You smirked up at him, still breathless, your pulse racing. “I wouldn’t want you to.”

[freakassfemme]

A Mother's Work

summary | With their daughter sick with a fever, Aemond and his wife work to quell her distress. (based on this request.)

pairing | aemond targaryen x niece!reader

tags | fluff, sick baby Aemyra :(, DAD AEMOND, pure marital bliss, part of EOD but can still be read standalone!

wordcount | 1.6k

note | hi :) not fully back yet but this was something i wrote quickly while i'm procrastinating studying for my exam teehee

likes, comments, reblogs are much appreciated!

Wails blasted through the spacious apartments, the sharp sound bouncing off the red brick that enclosed Aemond and his wife. Their young babe was in distress, ailed by a fever brought about by the change of the seasons. The one-eyed prince watched helplessly as you bounced your daughter in your arms, frowning as it failed to soothe young Aemyra.

“I do not know what ails her,” you sighed, brows tightly knit together as anguish stitched into the skin between. Your daughter’s face was growing redder with every cry, now turning into screams as the sickness made her restless.

“Should I call for the maester?” he suggested, earning a quick shake of your head in refusal.

“No, he’ll only offer to give her poppy milk again. I don’t want that anywhere near her,” you responded, to which Aemond nodded in understanding. The knock on your door barely broke its way through Aemyra’s loud sobs, the heavy oak revealing the wetnurse carrying a bowl of water and some linens. “You could put it by the bedside, Beth. I’m afraid it’ll be a while before she settles down.” The young maid offered her service to watch the babe through the night, to which you swiftly refused, stating you’d rather have her sleep in your bedchambers.

“Here, let me have her,” Aemond offered, taking Aemyra into his arms. His daughter’s blood always ran a bit warm, thanks to the dragon blood in her, but she was evidently hotter to the touch in his hold. It permeated through the thin cotton of his undershirt, warming his chest as he kept her close. The young father tried to soothe his babe by running a comforting hand down her small back as he softly bounced her, pressing his nose into her temple. “What’s wrong, my little dragon? What is bothering you, hm? You don’t feel well?” he cooed, pressing light kisses to her cherubic cheeks. Her answer came in the form of the thrashing of her small arms against his back, and the fat droplets of tears running down her reddened skin. The sight was enough to render a painful pang in Aemond’s chest, a twin feeling of distress emanating from the couple who remained clueless in soothing their firstborn. 

The prince turned his head to where you were kneeling on the bed as you arranged for Aemyra to sleep between the two of you. Beth was helping you put down the small pillows to keep her centered before you dismissed her with a grateful smile and a promise to call on her for help should you need it. Though the crease in your brows remained as Aemyra’s cries did not seem to be dying down any sooner. Aemond wouldn’t be surprised if the sound managed to reach his father’s chambers on the top floor, waking the nearly rotting king to his granddaughter’s roaring pair of lungs. 

All too sudden, her cries started to die down, which made Aemond start to think she was starting to feel better. Then Aemyra started to lurch, and something warm was dripping down Aemond’s back. You gasped, making your way to take your daughter back into your arms to clean her up. “Thank the gods–” you sighed in relief, wiping down a now-calmed Aemyra. “—that should take some of the heat out from within.” 

“A good sign then,” Aemond said, not minding the hot trail of milky vomit down his back. He could hardly feel disgusted when the crease between your eyebrows now unknitted itself and his daughter’s eyes were starting to grow heavy as what was bothering her was now starting to dissipate. 

With the peace in their apartments finally restored, Aemond peeled the soiled cotton of his back and settled on his side of the mattress as you swayed Aemyra to sleep, lightly humming while you pressed your nose into her skin. You settled your daughter into the little crevice you created out of pillows and linens, tucking her in well before kissing her forehead. The prince felt himself starting to drift off as he watched you. He was in awe of you, with the natural ease you approached motherhood with, and how well you’ve adapted to this duty. It was times like these when he could hardly find himself believing the fact that the little bundle in your arms was purely yours and his, born out of unexpected love and newfound loyalty. Yet despite the unexpected, everything felt good. Everything felt right.

It was the sound of water dripping that pulled Aemond out of his brief slumber. His good eye opened to the dimness in your marital chambers, the only light being the soft glow of the candle on your side and the subtle moonlight beaming through the windows. Aemond found you still sitting on the edge of the bed, right where he last saw you before his exhaustion had gotten the better of him. You dipped a piece of cloth into the bowl of water Beth had brought in hours ago, before wiping the damp cloth along the babe’s arms and legs. Aemond turned to his side to face you better, draping his arm over Aemyra’s pillows to reach for your wrist. His lips lifted into a small smile as you halted your movements, eyes flickering to meet his gaze.

“You should rest, my love,” he whispered.

“I find myself unable to find sleep, not until she feels better,” you answered softly, looking at him with fondness despite the exhaustion painted into lines underneath your eyes. 

“She will,” Aemond reassured you, squeezing your wrist. “She has a wonderful mother taking good care of her.” 

Your smile widened at his words, eyes slightly glimmering in the low sheen of the night. You shifted his hand into yours, pressing a soft kiss into the back of his hand in gratitude. Placing the damp cloth onto Aemyra’s forehead, you finally lifted the sheets to settle on your side of the mattress, much to your husband’s relief. 

You fell asleep rather quickly, though still fitful as you would awaken every hour or so to check on the babe. It came as no surprise when you slept well into the late morn, sleeping through Aemyra’s lively kicks that woke her father. The warm relief swarmed Aemond’s chest as he rose from his slumber at the sight of his daughter’s improved condition. She was no longer alarmingly hot to the touch, and she was as exuberant as she always was. “Hello, my dragon,” Aemond smiled, tickling her chin with his fingertip. “You’re feeling quite better, aren’t you? Yes, you are.” Aemyra responded in incoherent babbles, her plump cheeks dimpling as she smiled cheerfully. It made him chuckle, the prince overly glad that her ailments from the night past were now gone. Deciding to let you get your rest for a moment longer, Aemond took his daughter into his arms and made his way to the nursery for a quick change with the wetnurse. His little dragon glowed like the fever was never there, jumping in his hold as her wordless chatter echoed through the halls. “Let’s see if mummy’s woken up,” he said, chuckling as Aemyra seemed to respond in her own language. He opened the door just in time to find you stretching your limbs along the span of the vast bed, eyes blinking wide to find the two approaching the bed. 

“Look who’s feeling all better, dear wife,” Aemond smiled.

“Oh, my darling!” you exclaimed, sitting up and opening your arms wide to take Aemyra into your arms. The smile on the prince’s face threatened to ache his cheeks, but it was no matter when the sight before him was this lovely. You peppered loving kisses all over your daughter’s skin, making her squeal in delight as you nuzzled into the folds of her neck. “I’m so happy you’re bette– Oh! You must be hungry!” 

His daughter was smart like her father, already knowing how to get what she wanted when she wanted it despite only being six moons young. Aemyra’s tiny fingers took hold of the strings of your nightgown, pulling them loose as a gesture of wanting to feed. You both shared an amused look and a laugh at her antics, sitting shoulder-to-shoulder against the headboard while you shifted Aemyra in your arms to latch her onto your bosom. Aemond played with her tiny feet, holding them both in one hand and squeezing the plump folds in her legs. His babe was a healthy girl, well taken care of by an ever-devoted mother. 

“That fever must have left her starved,” the prince mused, earning a soft hum of agreement from his wife. 

“As am I, in truth,” you chuckled, mindlessly running a fingertip down her nose. She had her father’s nose, as well as the hair and the amethyst hues that made her look utterly Valyrian. Though, Aemond would argue her beauty was all yours, and the effervescent life behind her eyes that mirrored the ones he always adored in yours. 

Taking your free hand in his, the prince placed a kiss of devotion on your knuckles, then another one on your temple. “Well done, my love,” he whispered against your hair. Aemond pulled away to meet your gaze, one that looked at him with a tenderness he used to never imagine would become familiar. “She is lucky to have you care for her like this… as am I.”

The rest of Aemond’s day would be spent with his little family, snuggled up in bed and staying attached in the comfort of their chambers. The prince may not have been one to find tranquility in time spent in nothingness, but everything felt good. Everything felt right.

[freakassfemme]

IM LATEEEE i went to abby anderson town and everyone knew you there? YOU JUST GET IT!!!! ty for always taking my requests pookie 🥺💗

THIS IS SO CUTE!! YOURE ALWAYS SO SWEET TO ME ILY!!! And yes yw:) sorry if I ever don’t answer them. I have a lot going on in my life rn and my motivation is hit or miss, but sometimes I just wake up and remember an ask and come back to it:3 so happy you liked it and that everyone knew me at abby anderson town

[freakassfemme]

if i was sansa stark I would’ve fucked brienne the first time she said she wanted to be my knight actually