#aemond targaryen imagine requests

[lovelykhaleesiii]

Could you do the reader being insecure after giving birth (it’s been a few months) and Aemond reassures her before they have sex

thank you for the request, this is such a sweet idea 💛

definitely know Aemond would be the patient and tender type. He won’t rush you but he’ll notice that you haven’t been yourself around him like you used to, and that concerns him. When he gets the truth out of you, he’s hurt but he wants to make sure you know that he doesn’t think any less of you.

hope this is okay x

Divine Beauty

PAIRING: Dad!Aemond Targaryen x fem!Reader

WORDS: 1,519.

WARNINGS: mentions of childbirth, pregnancy + side effects, body insecurity, body shaming, swearing, fluff.

Childbirth was proof of miracles, an honourable right for most women, and one that you could proudly say you accomplished. It was not easy, to say the least. The labour was long, the pain unbearable and yet all the torment vanquished when you heard the first cries of your newborn daughter, cradling her tiny self in your arms provided a soothing warmth like no other.

And yet, nothing could neither amount to the sentimental sight of your beloved husband meeting and holding his newborn daughter. How tiny and nestled she looked, asleep in his strong arms. Your intuition convinced you, that your little one knew her father's touch instantly, and was comforted of how well protected she would be by his side. An understatement, Aemond was obsessed with her, refusing to let anyone else besides yourself and his mother, Queen Alicent, to hold the child.

From the exact moment he knew of your pregnancy, you could recall it as though it only happened yesterday, he was eagerly committed to the idea of fatherhood. If he was nervous, he showed no ill signs nor flaws, he was determined to be a great father, unlike his own, having only known neglect. Nonetheless, Aemond took measures to ensure your pregnancy was smooth and healthy, regardless of the symptoms, he wanted to minimise the risks as much as he possibly could. He saw to it, that you had your own reliable maester at hand, if necessary, he ensured that you were well rested, and that your maids attended to your every needs, at times he often would attend them himself. He especially grew a love to bathing you himself, watching overtime how your belly swelled with his child, and being so gentle with your changing body. And during this crucial time, you knew it was inevitable that your body would change, motherhood was an honour and you would do it again, however, it did not stop the self-loathing.

Terrible thoughts ruptured your mind, as you took long-hard stares at your bare reflection in the mirror. Examining every inch and crevice of your naked body, certain parts of your lower abdomen and back, now covered in faint pink stripes, the prominent dimples embedded in the skin of your thighs. Where your belly once protruded where the babe had grown, now deflated yet sagged just over your waist line. Now that you were lactating, your breasts had enlarged and felt grossly swollen, you'd never felt so 'big'. You felt ashamed that three months had passed and yet you remained this way.

During your pregnancy, Aemond ensured that you maintained a well-rounded appetite. The maester often reminded you both that you were with child, and it was quite normal to eat a larger quantity than what you were used to prior, since your cravings and appetite were upturned. Aemond was certain for you to remain well-nourished, for the maester often alarmed Aemond with discussions of risks of illnesses and deficits if the mother were to expose herself to malnourishment, for both you and the babe. Aemond wouldn't bear the thought, if he could prevent it, he would see to it himself.

Nonetheless, you felt that his good intentions and harmless actions came back for a nasty bite.

You had been avoiding Aemond's touch and longing stares, refusing to get undressed or naked in his presence, out of "modesty." He found it amusing, how you would shriek away from him, vexing him that you had only just given birth to his babe, let alone have another one anytime soon. He had acknowledged that you were still sensitive and in the process of healing from the gruelling birth. He did not wish to force himself onto you until you were capable of taking him again. The maester recommended at least a month, for you to regain your strength, before trying to conceive. You found yourself, sneaking in baths when he was out training or running errands for the day, and often were in bed before he'd return. He did not think much of it until now. He noticed how little you ate, and how you would layer your clothes even on sweltering, hot summer's day. And the whole ordeal of you not allowing him to touch your body, started to concern him.

It seemed enough was enough, for the one-eyed Prince, for he had returned much earlier than anticipated, as he cancelled his training practice that evening, only to 'ambush' you in the confines of your shared chambers.

"You've been avoiding me, ābrazȳrys [wife]," He exclaimed in a stern tone. He'd just managed to catch you perfectly, moments before you were to undress for a bath the maids had just prepared for you.

"Aemond-"

"Do not toy with me Y/N. I see the way my touch makes you feel, like I frighten you now... Do I?" You could sense the tinge of guilt in his soft voice. He takes slow steps towards you, only to stop himself hesitantly, maintaining a small distance, as though not to scare you away.

You couldn't help but sigh, you'd been so caught up in your own scrambled thoughts that you hadn't realised the effect it was having on Aemond. A half-hearted smile appearing on your face, as you closed the distance with your husband, reaching for his rough hand as you held it tightly in yours.

"Of course not, Aemond. You could never frighten me away. I love you so very much, it-it's just-"

The words struggling to leave your lips, as Aemond watched you carefully, his eye lingering over your mouth as he desperately awaited for your response. He gently squeezes your hand, as encouragement before you shamefully pull away from him, releasing his grip on you.

"I-I'm not the same as I was before, Aemond. I need you to know this. I don't think I can ever be, I mean my body. It's-It's...

"Horrendous."

As you left his side, to seat yourself down over the edge of the bed, you noticed the sting in Aemond's face, as he winced when you said the word. Horrendous. Instinctively, your hands touching your cheeks cautiously as you felt flustered and ashamed, hot tears treacle down before hastily wiping them away. You couldn't even find the courage to look Aemond in the eye, for his reaction would be to unbearable once the realisation hits him of how awful you look now.

Although, your husband wasted no second more, kneeling down below you, as he gently pulls your hands away from your face, his thumb stroking the tear trails remnant behind.

"Y/N, issa jorrāelagon [my love]," He softly whispers, the hurt in his voice evidence, as he looks up at you worryingly.

"Look at me-" He urged you, his tone now deep and commanding, his hand lightly nudging your face forward, as your eyes finally meet.

"You can never think of me to be so vile. I would never nor could I ever think of you in such an ill manner. You have given me the greatest gift a man could ask for. Do you think of me so little?"

His thumb had been stroking your cheeks dry, the seriousness in his face disappearing, as he glimpses a small, relieved smile on your face.

"I-I just hate the way I look now, and I would hate to bring shame to you with how others might think of me-"

A defeated sigh, escapes Aemond's lips, as his long fingers begin to comb through your hair. One hand leaving your face, to hold your shaky grip.

"I need you to listen when I tell you this. I do not give a fuck about anyone else may even dare to think. Only you and the little angel you have given me, that's all that matters. I refuse to let you think I could ever belittle you like that, you are my wife... Issa vys [my world]."

Almost on cue, your little daughter begins to cry in her crib, and just as your maternal instinct had kicked in to race to her side, Aemond denies you the chance.

"Y/N, I need you to understand me on this."

You give Aemond a slow, reassuring nod, squeezing his hands once more, as he plants a soft, moist kiss on your forehead. Your daughter's cries growing louder in the background, Aemond urges you to continue with your bath, as he attends to the unsettled newborn babe in her little crib.

Ever so carefully lifting her up in his arms, the moment she's comfortably nestled in, the cries begin to subside to small, little coos.

"Looks like she just needed her father's magic touch," You chuckle, as you begin to undress yourself slowly. Aemond kept his focus on you, as he made himself comfortable in a chair he pulled for himself, positioning it by the bathtub.

His eyes lingered over your body, and yet not a sight of disgust on his face. Each layer you removed, you felt your confidence grow.

"Hmm-" He lowly growls, an intense lust prominent in his eye.

"Issa gevie ābrazȳrys [My beautiful wife], divine beauty."

[thewritetofreespeech]

aemond - prompt 1

Prompt list - 1. Breeding kink

------------------------------⚔️---------------------------------

“Up! Up!”

“Up! Up!”

“Hehe…you’re both too big now for me to carry the both of you on my hip like before. Why don’t we flip a coin then? Heads Jaehaerys you can go first, and tails means Jaehaera can go. Sound like a fun game?”

Aemond watched from the table with his family as his wife made a deal with his niece & nephew. Completely fair. Void of favoritism. He remembers no such favors from his own childhood.

His wife was wonderful with the children. As one of the few Helaena let near them in recent months, due to some new fear she had concocted in her mind, Jaehaera & Jaehaerys clung to her like shadows. Even Maelor, still at his mother’s breast, would swing his fat little arms in his wife’s direction every time she passed. And she never missed an opportunity to give him attention or affection whenever he, or any of the children, clamored for her.

“Everything alright Aemond?”

His trance was broken by her words when she returned to him. Whatever deal or game they had struck over now as a nurse came to put the children to bed. Aemond nodded. Dreams of his own silver-haired babes following her around, tugging at her skirts, in need of constant attention from that sweet face drift out of his mind like dragon’s wings on the horizon. “Yes. I am fine. Let us retire for the evening as well.”

The sun would be up soon. He couldn’t see it from the window, but just felt it in his soul. That time of night that was more the wee hours of the morning. Where the darkness would finally break to the light.

They haven’t slept at all. Rested, but not slept. Sleep seemed immaterial in comparison to the need to fill her again & again. Sleep, water, food, air. All of it seemed trivial as he was a man possessed with possessing her.

“Aemond….please….no more….”

“Just once more.”

His wife whined as his cock still inside her slid back and into her again. One bout giving way to another with truly no rest in between this time.

He was consumed with making his dream a reality. Fill her with so much of him that his child would have no choice but to take root in her belly. They could have a babe come spring. Or a sweet summer child with his pale violet eyes and his mother’s gentle disposition. Aemond thrust harder into her, as if driving the idea home with his cock, making his wife cry out. “Ah! Aemond! Oh Gods!”

She wouldn’t have to take care of Aegon’s children anymore. She would have her own babes to keep her busy. They would be strong and perfect. In constant need of their mother like he was. Maybe she would give him twins like Helaena gave his brother? If his fragile sister could do it, surely his wife could do it too. Judging by the cum spilling out of her onto the already soiled sheets, Aemond had given her more than enough opportunity.

“Aemond….Aemond….”

She couldn’t say much more than his name now and moan. Good. There shouldn’t be any thought of others or anything but the two of them as they made their child.

He looked down at the woman who was going to give him his future and found a blank slate there. Broken with pleasure. Those intelligent, bright eyes black and hazy with lust. Disheveled to the point of madness by his own mad need to put a babe inside her.

He leaned down to kiss her rough, swollen lips and swallowed a whine from his princess. He felt her breath quicken against his lips and her walls quake around him. Her overstimulated body climaxing with even the most minor addition of stimuli between them at this point.

Aemond came just short after that. One final push. Spilling his seed just as deep as the rest before he finally, eventually, let his wife go.

He fell to the other side of the bed, listening to her gasp for breath beside him, before he got up and went to retrieve a rag for the two of them. His wife hiccupped out a gasp when the cool material touched her feverous skin. Her whole-body twitching as it was still too overstimulated to determine how the touch was intended. Aemond cleaned her body starting with her arms. Moving down to her breasts, imagining them larger and fuller in just 4 moons time, then down to her belly that would do just the same. She whined when he gently wiped at her overly sensitive cunt. Red and swollen. His seed still glistening in the folds. He doesn’t want to get rid of it but knows she would be uncomfortable sleeping like that. Aemond had already made her uncomfortable enough for one evening.

He cleaned himself off with much less care and crawled back into bed beside his wife. She willingly came to him when he pulled her in his arms. Or perhaps she was too exhausted to think and just went along with him. Her body still twitching now & then, even in her sleep, from the frenzy he just put her through.

He kissed her head, then covered them with whatever clean blanket he could find.

Come spring they would have a child of their own. A silver haired paragon, who would take Vhagar after he was gone and be his legacy for when his bones became ash. After that, they would work on another. Then another. Then another. His branch would flourish as much as his great-grandfather, and they would build their family to the point that they did not need any others but their own.

He almost felt bad for Jaehaera & Jaehaerys. Soon they would not have their wonderful aunt to dote on them. But his children, and his family, would be what came first.

[marthawrites]

Could you write smut for Aemond targaryen with the prompts 17,40,44,47,53 and 54 maybe with a targaryen reader? Just something gentle, sweet and soft <3 btw I’m talking abt this prompt list

I absolutely can! Apologies for making you wait since January for this. I hope you're still around to see (and, fingers crossed) enjoy it!

"Vok" (Perfect)

Aemond Targaryen x sister reader

Word count: 2.6k+

About: You and Aemond pledged to each other long ago. Tonight, beneath the blanket of darkness, you revel in each other's adoration.

Includes: SMUT. Featuring brother x sister incest, Aemond is soft but only to his little sister, dirty talk, female masturbation, guided masturbation, praise, unprotected vaginal sex, and a splash of breeding kink

Note: Hello lovely reader! It's been a hot minute since I've wrote Aemond - the posters and trailers have me going (affectionately) insane! Triple warning: this fic is brother x sister targcest. If you do not like that KEEP ON SCROLLING. This is my first time writing this dynamic. Reader is implied to have silver hair, pale skin, and purple eyes. Everything else is up to you! As always, I hope you enjoy this fic! ❤️

-

To the realm, Aemond Targaryen was the cruel prince. Aloof, stoic, unforgiving.

To the realm, he was an ambitious and willful young man who rode Vhagar, the largest and oldest dragon in the world–the same dragon who helped Queen Visenya conquer Westeros.

To the realm, he was the second son of King Viserys. And, as such, would play the game of nobility by putting duty above love–marrying outside of his Targaryen lineage to seed dragons further into the world.

To you, his little sister and second daughter of King Viserys, he was your protector. 

Your secret.

A poorly kept secret in some corners of the castle; nosy servants and their obnoxious fucking tendencies. But, with Aemond’s less than idle threats about cutting the tongue out of anyone’s throat who would speak about it, it ended up being a well-kept secret.

The second son and second daughter of the Dragon King; who better to love, and cherish, and pledge to, than each other?

Aemond would sooner die than see you marry off to some lowly lord of a “great” House. You were the blood of Old Valyria. Everyone–no matter their feats–was lowly in comparison to you. And you, his sweet sister, deserved only the best.

Barely a year separated your ages. Neither of you remembered a life without the other.

Long before you gave your maidenhead to your brother you gave him your heart. And your heart he held.

-

The night was late. These dark hours were some of the only unadulterated times you had together. Aemond kissed you slowly, passionately, gently stroking along your cheeks with his thumbs as he did. You were tangled in his bed together. You, stripped down to only your shift, and him, stripped down to only his sleep trousers. One of your shift’s thin straps kept sliding down your shoulder, and each time it did Aemond’s warm mouth kissed over the smooth lovely skin. You panted soft sounds–each feminine simper jolting right to his cock–as he lavished you in affection. 

“You’re kissing me silly, lēkia (brother). My head feels full of bees and I’m hot. So, so hot,” you whispered against his kiss-swollen mouth. “Will you not feel for yourself?” He hadn’t yet made a move to touch you where you really, truly, wanted him; something that had you whining and pouting. While his hands alternated between stroking your face and groping your body–waist, hips, thighs–yours were buried in his hair. It was all down and free. The silken sheet of it spilled over his shoulders, spilled over you, and you relished the feel of it inside your hands. Against your bare skin. “Please?”

“Please what, hāedar? (little sister)” He asked, voice mellow with just the right amount of rumble from his chest.

“Please touch me,” you answered, back naturally arching to press your soft body against the hard planes of his own.

Another low sound came from him. He pressed a warm, wide palm up the perfect curve of your back until he squeezed into the nape of your hair. “Such a pretty word from a pretty mouth. Have my kisses made you ache with need, byka zaldrīzes (little dragon)?”

“Yes.” The single word, its single syllable, rolled off your tongue before your brain even fully registered his question. You stared at him desperately. One eye was so beautiful; so ancient in its color and proclamation, just like your own. The other reflected faceted edges of the sapphire he wore in place of his missing eye. You didn’t know which was more enchanting.

“How long can you go, hm? Without me touching you?”

“W-what?”

He laughed. A rumble beneath his pale, taut chest. “How long before you succumb to madness by me not touching your perfect cunny?”

“Aemond…,” you whined. Pitiful. “Not much longer! Please, lēkia, I need you, please.”

A serpent’s grin curved his mouth and darkened his eye as he shifted positions with you. Now, he sat upright with his back against his headboard and pulled you to sit in front of him. 

You nestled between his legs, your back flush with his chest, and his stiff cock rested against the small of your back. A blush bloomed beneath your cheeks. You knew lust ran as wild in his veins as it did in yours.

“Tell me, sweet sister…,” he started, whispering by your ear. Both his hands cupped and squeezed over your breasts. Their softness melted against his palms and he groaned at the sensation. Perfect. You were so fucking perfect. “Have you touched yourself to peak before?”

A stammer replaced the little mewl in your throat. “H-how do you mean?”

He laughed again, pinching your nipples. “Mm… are you sure?”

Lust and need and fire roared in your blood to the point of almost drowning everything else out. “I d-don’t understand,” you admitted. But, it was a lie. You knew what he meant. You could only hope he’d go easy on you so you wouldn't have to admit, prove, or say you knew what he spoke of.

“Why are you playing shy with me, hāedar? I think you know exactly what I mean. There is no shame in it,” he spoke sly, hands pushing the hem of your shift up until he held the material in a fist upon your abdomen. With his other hand he tugged your smallclothes down your bare legs, tossing them off. The flats of all his fingers ghosted over your exposed cunt. Testing you. Feeling you. He hissed an inward breath. “Fuck–”, he growled. “‘Tis a good thing I was born a prince. Gods know if I had this wet little cunt between my thighs I wouldn’t get anything done. Ever. For how often I’d fuck myself silly on my own fingers.”

Aemond’s vulgarity sent a coil of tension wringing in your belly. Slick arousal pooled hotter beneath his touch. Your clit throbbed–the little pearl silently screaming for attention. “Yes,” you breathed, shuddering.

“Yes, what?”

Your older brother wasn’t going easy on you. “Yes. I… I know what you speak of. And.. yes, I do. Sometimes…,” you admitted with a wave of embarrassment.

Somehow he grew harder against the small of your back. He throbbed. “Show me,” he demanded.

“What! Aemond, no. Please, please, please no. Don’t make me show you.” Mortification replaced your previous embarrassment. Yet, your spine quivered with another rush of liquid arousal.

“I would love nothing more than to see how you bring yourself pleasure. Do you think of me when you do, byka zaldrīzes?”

You nodded. Dizziness warbled your brain. 

“Such a sweet perfect thing,” he cooed. He'd felt that nervous energy tense you. He also saw the exquisite thrum of your pulsepoint beneath your neck, too. Two sides of the same coin: carnal desire. When he spoke again it dripped with wicked passion. “Don’t be nervous, I'll guide you through it.”

It had been quite some time since you last brought yourself to climax all on your own. Aemond was always more than eager to give you pleasure. Tonight, however, something was different. Idly you wondered what it could be. Before you thought about it too much, Aemond guided your dominant hand to that delicate space between your thighs. You gasped at the sensation of your own touch. Torture never felt so divine. Your little bud sang as you circled it, rubbed over it. You sighed sweetly. “How did you make me so wet?”

It took controlled effort to not spill himself across your back at that very moment. “Spread your legs for me, princess. Let me see and hear what you’re doing.”

You obeyed. With your legs spread wider, now, it was all the easier to resume your previous motions. Flicking and rubbing over your bud felt divine–excited little sounds already spilled from your mouth. You ached inside, too, wanting–needing–to be stretched around something. The memory of Aemond's long fingers pumping into you while his thumb claimed your clit had your face hot. You couldn't reach those same spots he could. You bit your bottom lip, whimpering.

Aemond watched from above with a hungry lecherous eye. Beneath your shift he could see your breasts, slope of belly… and then further below, your creamy thighs spilled wide open. Fuck–he was so hard his back hurt. Your girlish sounds sent his desire blazing. “Your little clit is so achy, isn’t it? I know how much you like it played with,” he said by your ear. “Do you ever go inside?”

You nodded, allowing your head to fall back against his shoulder. You stayed on your pearl, still, legs tensing with bliss as it warmed and tingled your blood.

“Show me,” he growled again. “Be a good girl. And afterward? Don’t worry, I'll take care of you. Promise.” 

Without hesitation you pushed two of your fingers into your warmth. Your body squeezed around the intrusion, inner walls flexing, trying to pull them in deeper. A gasped moan left your parted lips. “I-I’ve never done this before.” You’ve never shown anyone this before is what you meant. Aemond knew what you meant.

“I know. Shh… it’s okay, I'll guide you through it.” He gently touched the top of your hand and relished your little tendons flexing with the effort of your self pleasure. He pushed–coaxing your fingers deeper, silently urging you along. More. 

Soon the wet sounds of your hand against pink swollen flesh mingled with your moans. Lewd. Dirty. You tried to stay quiet. You really did. But it felt too good, and Aemond’s hand on yours guiding you along had your toes curling. Of course he would help you. Of course he wouldn’t let you do it all on your own. “Aem..!,” you whimpered, hips rocking with your movements. “‘M close.”

“I got you,” he whispered, voice heavy.

As soon as your fingers found that little patch of hidden nerves along your walls, you weren’t able to hold on much longer. The bliss, all at once, became too much. Tension snapped in your belly as colors flashed behind your closed eyelids. Your legs trembled at the tip of your peak, and as you crested downwards Aemond held you tighter against him.

“Vok (perfect),” he said as he watched you. How perfect you were with your silver hair framing your face. How perfect you looked when ecstasy became too much. How fucking perfect your eyes were as they opened and locked on his, bright and glassy with excitement. 

You carefully pulled your fingers free and began to turn around to face him. Before you could, however, he held you tighter against him. Confusion furrowed your brow and whatever you were about to say was cut off by his impatience.

“I’m greedy, byka zaldrīzes. Go on, one more time. I know you can do it. Show me again how you peak.”

Without arguing you again settled back against him. You planted your feet along the outside of his legs, spilling your thighs open wider than they were before. You angled your hips to the perfect position and this time a third finger joined your previous two. This time you fucked yourself without shame–not that you held on to it long in the first place.

Aemond all but snarled behind you, absolutely ravenous at the sight of three of your little fingers pumping and curling up into your body. He moved a hand downward, too, and the pads of those fingers worked over your clit in time with your pumps.

“Gods! Aem–!” You quivered against him. The addition of his lascivious attention had your hips squirming. Wanton moans, no longer trying to stay quiet, had your mind blanking. Nothing existed outside of you and Aemond. Nowhere existed outside of the spaces in which your bodies touched. Climax found you faster this time. Your second orgasm had you crumbling against him. Sweat sheened your brow. Your face bloomed. Sated. You were wholly sated.

“Good girl,” he praised. “Such a good girl. Giving me exactly what I wanted,” he kissed you, stealing your lips in a kiss that had you floating all over again. You could have fallen asleep right there in his arms and been the happiest thing in the realm. Breaking away, he added, “now I’ve a promise to make up to you, hm?”

Honestly, you’d forgotten about it. But, now that he mentioned it, your belly did a silly little flop.

With great care, Aemond moved from behind you and stood. Offering a hand to you, he said, “take your clothes off and lay on your back.”

And with that, you both finally shed the last pieces of your clothing. 

Laying like he said, you leaned back on your elbows to prop yourself up to still see your brother. Spilled messy hair, tall lean body littered with nicked scars, sapphire eye on full display…hard cock blushed angry red with need. They say Targaryen’s are closer to Gods than men, and with the hearth’s orange light reflecting on his ivory form, you believed him to be a God.

Aemond thought the same about you as you laid there bathed in the moonlight and hearthlight. 

“Spread your legs for your lēkia, I want to see you.”

As soon as you did–proudly showing off the slick mess of two climaxes, Aemond pumped along his rigid length. Despite butterflies twirling in your belly, your smile up at him was purely feline.

To Aemond’s credit, his voice only broke slightly when he said, “get on your hands and knees.”

You did. You dipped your spine as low as it could comfortably go, propping your ass up for him. As much as he loved fucking you with your legs wrapped around his waist, you knew he loved this position, too. “Māzigon va, lēkia (come on, brother),” you purred. “Keep to your promise.”

In an instant one of his hands squeezed harshly into the fat of your hip while the other spread the meat of your ass apart. He planted one foot firmly on the bed, and the other stayed rooted on the ground. The position gave him more leverage, and power, and control as he loomed above you. With a flex of his entire abdomen he pushed forward; the hot stretch of your body around him had both of you gasping. “I plan on leaving a babe in your belly tonight, hāedar. That way mother will have no other choice than to wed us,” he groaned, pulling backwards only to snap his hips against the smooth underside of your cheeks once again. And again.

You fisted the sheets as Aemond fucked you. You moaned your delight at his words, nodding. “Yes, please,” you panted. “Faster,” you begged.

His thrusts were precise and brutal. The slap of your smacking skin was utterly depraved and you hated–no, loved–how it made you impossibly wetter. Aemond did too. “Already squeezing around me? Fuck–I’m not going to last much longer,” he said, strained.

You began to push back against him, meeting his thrusts halfway with a frenzied need to make him release. “Fill me. Fill me up, Aem,” you still begged, breathing heavily. 

He rutted against you with the same need–a primal haze taking over as his stones began to tighten. His fingers dented firmly into your flesh as he continued plunging in and out of you. Instinct to spill his seed built by the moment and soon he became sloppy. He grunted and growled, and with a final shove–cock buried as deep as it could be inside your walls–he spent against your body’s end. Pulse after mighty pulse emptied his spend into you. Stray strands of hair stuck to a sheen of sweat upon his forehead.

You joined him in peak; left boneless and exhausted after three orgasms. Even at the top of your bliss, and his, he never eased until you were both done.

Aemond pulled his softening length out from you and urged you to fall forward upon his bed. You followed his motion and happily laid there. Naked, glowing, and full. You reached a hand out to pull him to you. “Avy jorrāelan (i love you).”

Aemond easily settled next to you, scooping you into him. “Avy jorrāelan tolī (i love you too),” he said between slow, satisfied kisses.

-

Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed, please consider a follow, and/or reblog, and/or letting me know as it all makes me vvvery happy! ♥

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Masterlist

Main taglist: @watercolorskyy @melsunshine @girlwith-thepearlearring @arcielee @barbiedragon @targaryen-dynasty @succnfuccubus @fan-goddess @schniiipsel

Aemond taglist: @darylandbethfanforever9 @bellaisasleep @aemondsblog @khaleesihel @sirenofavalon @doublesparrows @aemonds-fire @nikstrange @abbyandizzysmum @rafeism @lost-and-founds @castellomargot @avidreader73 @snh96 @boofy1998 @connorsui

[megalony]

Main Masterlist

As my other masterlist is rather old and made on an old template, I decided to create an updated one with the main fandoms I'm open to writing for.

This is mainly just so it is easier for me and to keep everything neat and in order.

Evan Buckley Masterlist (911)

Eddie Diaz Masterlist (911)

Twisters:

Tyler Owens:

Just Hold On

Top Gun: Maverick:

Jake Seresin (Hangman):

Don't Worry Darlin'

You Called My Wife?

Wait And See

They Call Me Hangman

Gladiator II:

Emperor Geta:

Near Death Experience

Valuable To The Emperor

A Hindrance

X-Men:

Charles Xavier:

Use Your Voice

Extinguishing Flames

Henry Cavill:

Collateral

Everything Will Be Alright

Like father, Like son (Series masterlist)

His Queen

My Hero (Series masterlist)

That’s my son

Look at us (Series masterlist)

Painless (Series masterlist)

A man named uncle (Series)

Jonah Hauer-King:

Finally Coming True

A Touch of Blue

Talk to Me

We’re Occupied

What Do I Do     Part 2

I Know The Solution

Hidden Truths   Part 2   Part 3

Bound To Her

Worst Nightmare

Don’t Leave Me

It's Happening

Dark! Jonah:

Oh Dear

Twisted Lover 

Pretty Little Thing

Chris Evans:

The Evans boys (series)

Little one

Sleepwalker

Soft Spot (Series)

Part 2

Law and Order SVU:

Nick Amaro:

Help A Girl Out

Leave Her Out Of This

You Are Home

Bed Rest

Little Flirt

Rafael Barba:

Courtroom Chaos

Safe in my arms

My counsellor, my lover

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Reliving the dream   (Series)

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Dominic (Sonny) Carisi:

Hostage

Stay with me

Purple

Abandoned

Close call

An eventful night

Elliot Stabler:

Baby boy

Screaming

House of the Dragon:

Aegon II Targaryen:

Say It Again

I Won’t Allow It

Little Dragon

Unworthy

Aemond Targaryen:

Lady of the Night     Part 2

Perfectly Inadequate

That’s a promise

[justanoasisimagines]

Kissing their scars Aemond Targaryen

Hey my lovelies, back with another headcanon! My requests are open for everything except fics. You can find my request guidelines pinned to the top of the page! Credit to cafekitsune for the banner and the divider!

❀Aemond has various scars all over his body. Some from training and practicing, some from the odd bump and scrap. However, the one on his face is the worst of all.

❀Aemond enjoys having you kiss his scars. It's comforting to feel your lips cascade over his body. It's a private and intimate moment between the two. He'd never experienced such affection from another individual before.

❀Aemond is proud to show you his scars over his body. They act as a reminder of everything he's accomplished. How hard he's worked to get where he is. To become the weapon he is.

❀Aemond is however reluctant when it comes to his eye. It serves as a reminder of how Lucerys was never punished for his actions. As well as a reminder of a time when Aemond felt the most weak.

❀Aemond doesn't like you going near his eye in the beginning, he's terrified of you being repulsed by him. He doesn't want to scare you off or make you uncomfortable. He's worried you'll think he's weak.

❀It takes trust for Aemond to eventually allow you to kiss his scar. When he does, he's not ready for the impact that it holds over him.

❀Aemond feels what it's like to be loved for the first time. To have someone love him without any conditions. You're not scared or disgusted by it. It's just another part of him that you get to love and be protective over.

❀It's a new kind of intmacy Aemond isn't used to. You've kissed his other scars before and he enjoys the touch but this is monumental. This means something. The first time you kiss his eye, Aemond releases a single tear. He's overcome with emotion. He doesn't know how to react, but he holds onto you tightly. Enjoying the touch between you, no words are exchanged.

[insomniakisses]

THIS MAN!? 🤰😮‍💨

[achaoticeternal]

Could you please write a fic where Rhaenyra’s strongdaughter gets into an argument with her mother because her mother won’t let her marry Aemond and she calls her mother a hypocrite for calling Aemond unfit to be a husband when her own husband got exiled twice. (Please also write Daemon reacting to it)

I looooove this idea! To me, it would be such a funny argument and of course, Daemon couldn't take it seriously - its just so lol enjoy this little blurb!

submit your own blurb/ headcanon requests HERE! read part two of this blurb HERE!

Targaryen Traditions

AEMOND TARGARYEN x VELARYON(STRONG)! READER word count: 900 - blurb summary: read request a/n: should I do a little continuation?

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Rhaenyra moved gracefully down the halls of Dragonstone, despite the unamused look that graced her face. It had barely been a full day since the daily had returned from an eventful visit in King’s Landing. Despite the typical quarrels, it now seemed her own daughter had been bewitched by one of her half-siblings… Prince Aemond Targaryen…

“Mother, I don’t understand!” You whined, following her into the great foyer of Dragonstone. 

“You will understand in time that I am right,” Rhaenyra spoke simply while crossing toward the fireplace, a hand over her belly.

“I wish to understand now because this makes no sense to me!” You quickly rebutted, “A year ago, you suggested to the Queen that I be betrothed to Aegon, who has since married Helaena. Now Aemond wishes for my hand and you deny me marrying a prince.”

“The point was never to have you simply marry a prince. If I wanted to see you married off to a man that holds such a title, I could have sent you to Dorne or Essos. To marry Aegon would have done a great many things, but most importantly keep you close to me,” Rhaenyra gazed toward you with motherly affection, “However, it seems Alicent only cares for Targaryen tradition when it serves her needs. You will not marry a second son.”

Daemon soon entered, freshly clean from the travels of the previous days. Though you respected and even somewhat cared for your stepfather, he did not replace the man that you first called father, Ser Laenor. When he entered, both you and your mother turned to him, silently begging that he pick a side. It was wishful thinking on your part since Daemon was not over fond of his nephew. Seemed to be a recurring theme…

The Rogue Prince had a smirk playing on his lips. Rhaenyra’s words were not lost on him, and even caused a chuckle from the man, “What is wrong with second sons?”

At such playful teasing, Rhaenyra rolled her eyes at the antics of her husband, “Nothing, husband. Except my daughter wishes to marry the Queen’s spiteful, second son.”

“Aemond?” He asked as he approached the princess. She nodded to his question, and then his gaze turned to you, “Aemond?”

Eagerly, you nodded. The thought crossed your mind of possibly being able to convince Daemon that your betrothal should be set with Aemond so that he could push Rhaenyra to be more willing to the idea. 

“You wish to marry to One-Eye prince?”

Of course, Daemon would tease you with such a question. As if your brothers had yet to torment you over the idea. Neither Jacaerys nor Lucerys liked the proposed betrothal between their uncle and sister. 

“It would be fulfilling my duty to the family and the realm,” You began to explain, “Jace shall sit on the throne one day, and I will be his heir until Baela gives him a child.”

Rhaenyra’s face soured at your words. She did not like how your education fueled your argument but was also proud of seeing such diplomacy from her daughter. The double-edged sword that all mothers must face with their children.

When she did not speak, you began again, “If I marry Aemond, I will also live in the Keep. I can assist Alicent and the maesters in taking care of my grandsire. You and Daemon always voice your concern for the King, so it might put you at ease.”

“You are a princess, not a caretaker—”

“Says who? You?” You were sharp with your tongue, growing tired of playing this game with your mother, “You say a princess is not a caretaker, yet you are a mother. You say I should not marry a second son, yet you did…”

“My dear, the circumstances are different,” Rhaenyra’s voice grew more stern at your pointed argument, “Aemond is your uncle!”

At such a comment, a boisterous laugh escaped your lips. It was quite out of fashion, but you could not keep it together. You looked back to your mother with a look of disbelief, gazing between Rhaenyra and Daemon, “Have you looked in a mirror recently?”

Confused by your statement, Rhenyra looked to Daemon. He chuckled while taking her hand within his own, intertwining their fingers, “I believe she means to call you a hypocrite.”

Rhaenya pursed her lips, looking at her husband than her daughter. Her eyes glanced over your frame, taking in all the likeness you shared. She then thought about how she acted at your age… She had married Laenor when she was just a year younger than you are now. But she would resent seeing you leave Dragonstone, no matter who the man was. 

“I’m flying to King’s Landing in two days' time on dragon back due to a previous agreement. You shall join me… and I will consider the proposition of a marriage to Aemond,” Rhaenyra spoke with a sigh.

A great smile spread across your face, elated that she would now at least consider Aemond as a suitor, “Thank you, mother! Thank you, thank you!”

“But I do not wish to hear any more of this or anything related to Aemond before our departure. Am I clear?”

“Yes, of course, mother,” You replied with a light giggle.

With a slight nod of her head, Rhaenyra dismissed you to do as you pleased. Relief washed over both of you. With quick steps, you took your leave to write a scroll to Aemond of your small successes.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

should I continue this/ make a part two?

[themotherofhorses]

im begging you, dark!aemond bodyguard of the president/king’s innocent daughter omggggg

pairing: bodyguard!aemond targaryen x president's daughter!reader

warnings: explicit language. oral sex. loss of virginity (kinda). daddy kink. slight breeding and housewife kink. small mentions of past obsessive tendencies on aemond's part.

notes: hello, long time no write. consider this me using this request like i'm saddling the horse after getting thrown off.

(also ik aemond might not seem AS dark as other times but like pretty pls read between the lines. thank you ☺️)

masterlist

For being the nation’s current president, your father was quite the fucking fool of a man.

He loves you, truly. How could he not? You were the spitting image of your late mother, and the youngest of his children- his sweet little chick that was barely beginning to spread her wings and leave the nest. He would never forgive himself if you ever got hurt due to his elected role as the commander-in-chief and head of state.

That was the main reason why he hired Aemond Targaryen as your personal bodyguard.

The man had a commendable record behind him, despite his young age. Your father was beyond impressed with him when he first interviewed him for the job. Two tours in the U.S. army as a sergeant and sniper before receiving an honorable discharge and a Purple Heart due to an eye injury while seeing combat overseas. According to some of the everyday politicians, he threw himself over his younger nephew during an ambush with enemy fire, and took a massive chunk of bomb shrapnel to the left side of his face; doctors saved him, of course, but his eye was too damaged to save.

They offered him a glass eye and a fully paid scar revision (along with special vet benefits and apparently some hush-hush money as well), but he refused it all. Instead, he accepted the purple heart, crammed a pretty and shiny sapphire into his empty socket, and made sure everyone- military personnel and civilian altogether- looked him in both eyes whenever they addressed him.

The rumors were true- Sergeant Aemond One-Eye was as terrifying as he was deadly.  

Perhaps that was the reason why it did not take very long for him to be buried between your thighs.

You never had a boyfriend before, always too devoted towards your college academic and hobbies, and way too protected and overshadowed by your father. But it was Aemond who stole your first kiss, two months into his new job as your bodyguard. He had been accompanying you on a small shopping trip to the mall, treating it as a sort of bonding experience. When you had mentioned the new lip gloss you were trying out (it was flavored ‘chai latte’), he had asked to taste it.

Okay! you giggled, thinking nothing of it; only for it to be a week later and with his head in between your thighs, eating you out like a starved man.

“Stop it…! Aemond! My daddy might walk in!” You cried, tossing your head back against the pillows as you bit down on your bottom lip to stop the moans from tumbling out. It was all in stupid vain; your bodyguard had you putty in his hands. Anything he wanted, you would happily give him- yourself included. “A-Aemond…!” How could he ever stop? Not when you sounded oh so fucking pretty, so sweet and yummy, his newfound favorite meal served to him on a silver platter, just ready to be completely devoured.

Aemond shook his head. “I don’t give the tiniest shit, babygirl,” he muttered as he sucked on your clit, only pausing every few seconds to kiss your soaked pussy. He had to be soft as well, considering this was a fucking dream come true for him.

The poor bastard remembered all the times he saw you on the television, in those paparazzi photos and the Christmas cards and those gorgeous social media posts of yours. No one would ever understand just how badly he wanted you, and the lengths he went just to have you.

And, well, maybe you should’ve thought first before stepping out in that sinful, short-cut and backless blue dress, the one that made you look perfect for him to knock up, his pretty little housewife. Perfect for him. Made for him. He kept your legs wide open with the tightest grips as he feasted on your cunt, ignoring your desperate (but adorable) attempts to push him away.

“If you can’t handle this, how will you handle my cock?” he tutted. “Poor baby, I’m going to fucking destroy you.”

Everything made your pretty face scrunch up in pleasure, especially when you felt him lick a large stripe up your pussy before he shoved his face in only deeper. You squealed, hiding your face from behind your hands. You could feel his nose, his chin, the heavy pants and low growls and soft kisses he peppered along inner thighs. “And what did I say to call me?” before he gave your ass a hard spank.

You whimpered, already on the verge of sobbing. Fat tears were streaking down your cheekbones. “I-I’m sorry…s-so sorry, daddy!”

Oh but your entire body felt like it was lit on fire- a burning yet tightening sensation nestled deep within your belly. It was so strange. You didn’t know what to make of it. Your head lolled to the side while your back arched up from the bed and your hand found Aemond’s long, whitish-blond hair.

(A common genetic mutation in his family, according to him. Some of the politicians mocked it as the ‘new Habsburg jaw’. You thought it made him look all the godlier.)

His hands soon slid up to your breast, palming and tweaking your nipples between his fingers. Your toes curled as you felt ready to explode at any second. “Daddy!” you mewled, peering down through teary eyes to watch as his face shook side-to-side. His own face held sheer bliss, especially when he brought a finger to trace along your drenched folds. “Daddy…! Daddy! Ah, gods, please!”  

“Yeah, that is right, pretty baby, I’m your new daddy now.”

Your father was none the wiser to the fact that, every night, his youngest daughter’s bodyguard had her in a mating press every night, whispering into her ear that it would not be long until she made him into a real daddy.

It was the least you could do in return, considering he was protecting your life with his.

After boring meetings and countless banquets and your a.m. college classes, Aemond would be quick to shove your panties in your mouth before bending you over the nearest furniture set.

You were his.

All his.

His pretty baby, his sweet little future housewife, the girl whose picture he used to secretly carry in one of the vest pockets during his days in the military.  

One day, your father pulled him aside and offered him a bonus.

“Truth is, son, you’re doing such a fine job at protecting her. I don’t worry as much as I did before you came along. We could not ask for a better bodyguard, Sergeant,” he admitted, patting him on the back. “Would there be anything you’d like in payment? A vacation? A bonus? Some free time with your family? I know you miss your mother very much; my little girl told me.”

But Aemond shook his head, declining everything. “Sir, with all due respect, your daughter feels like my new family now, considering how close we’ve grown in these past several months, and my duty in keeping her safe. I would prefer to remain by her side if you would allow it,” he said, and your father gave him a cheeky grin.

“Should I perhaps be worried, Sergeant?”

“Of course not, Mr. President. I adore your daughter, but only as a brother would his little sister.”

So it was true, it seemed- your father, bless his heart, was quite the fucking fool of a man. It should’ve been no surprise to him at all that seven months down the line from his conversation with your bodyguard, you would be trying to hide a swollen baby bump from everyone's eyes.

And if he really was smart, then he would’ve remembered the reason why the Targaryens were so often compared to the old Habsburgs of Austria.

[black-dhalias]

Inheritance

Aemond Targaryen X Velaryon!Mixed!Reader

You were starved of both ocean and sky, born a Velaryon who could not reside at Driftmark and a Targaryen whose dragon egg did not hatch. By some miracle you had found sanity within Kings Landing—the whispers were loud, but your name eased off their lips once you came into yourself. The eyes and beauty of your mother, but the skin and curls of your father.

Similar to your cousins, Rhaena and Baela—you were clearly the only of your siblings to be true born.

“Aemond…” You note how when you say his name, his jaw tightens. “Do not make me say it…” He doesn’t speak, he simply looks further than you could see. You’re losing him to his own mind.

“Aemond! You are every bit as sweet as you are bitter, I do not—” The words get all caught up in your throat, “No. I will not let you believe otherwise.” Something in that moment left Aemond still, but his gaze seems closer. As if he could still see you.

“I may be of my mother, but even more than that, I am yours. What can they say of that desire? That need?”

“You are meant to marry Lord Stark…” Every word is forced, like it had been locked up in a box and your closeness had set them free.

“To the seven hells with marriage. I speak only of my heart, which has been taken with you for many moons.” You had gotten so close to him that he wasn’t sure he knew how to breathe properly. Your hands ran up to his neck, fingers resting upon his shoulders. “Let me hold you. On the eve of this wedding, let me feel you beneath my touch.”

If it were anyone else, Aemond would have taken them there—innocent or not, but this was you.

Y/N Velaryon. 

“If I am to have you, it will only be as my wife.”

.

.

.

You were young and naive then, to marry Aemond was one of the worst mistakes you could make. He was as much intoxicating as a glass of wine, a bitter taste upon your tongue. He was the one thing you should not have, and yet you did exactly as you should not.

Deep in your womb, you carried his child but the sorrow of your loss burns deeper. Lucerys was gone. You had no explanation as to how it happened, only that he fell in Shipbreaker Bay. The same place that Aemond just so happened to be—a coincidence you could not blindly ignore.

“Y/N.” You turn your eyes to his voice, knowing that your next words would be the last you’d share with him. “My love.”

You were a prisoner of war, with child and no dragon to carry you to dragonstone.

“Do not flatter me with kindness, I fear that I know what you have done…” You purse your lips, a tightness existing with your chest you could not fathom. “I wish I did not, but I do…” Meeting his eye did not seem possible—a marriage you hoped would mend the broken pieces between your family and his, it shattered. So quickly, slipping right through your hands.

The swell of your belly was clearer as you stood, finally finding the courage to look at him which made you more certain. “I stood aside as Aegon took my mother’s birthright. I thought, perhaps peace is still possible.” You were not idle in your words, you spoke against usurping when you could. No one listened to the 2nd born daughter, but you did as you could.

“But to kill my brother, Aemond, that’s an unforgivable act.”

He does not defend himself, knowing it would only push you further from him. You already exist so far. “He is hardly your brother.”

You leave the shared room without as much as another word, making a slow trek through the halls.

.

.

.

Ser Erryk Cargyll came to your room in the quiet of the night obscured by a cloak of black. Shrouding your face and silvery hair beneath the shadow it casts, and until you are through the gates—you are unable to breath, it felt as though every step left you a second away from collapsing.

You were afraid.

“We’ll make it to dragonstone before daybreak.” The boat rocked with the waves, it seemed to rest and roll in the gentlest of ways—the trip was kind to you.

“Why did you come back?” You seem him adjust, the way he seems uncomfortable under your gaze.

“Her majesty was distraught knowing you were stuck in Kings Landing.”

“Thank you, Ser Erryk.” He kept quiet, knowing you recalled the last meeting you shared. The quiet silence after you confessed your fear to him, when Viserys death was certain. Those words rested upon his shoulders for many moons, you were kind to him and he felt guilt knowing he left you.

.

.

.

Dragonstone was quiet, it seemed no one was within its walls—the unrest ran deeper than you expected. Even here. “Your highness.” Set Erryk bows and leaves you to your rooms, tucked away from prying eyes. Where you inhale deeply, even as the tears begin to fall—like a weight both relieved itself and landed back upon your shoulders.

“Your highness, the council is meeting.” You nod, unable to recall how much time has passed since arrived.

“Has my mother returned?” The lady shakes her head, to which you nod and rise from your chair. Adorned in your house colors, you make your way to the council room.

. . .

“Lady Y/N of house Velaryon.” You did not wait for them to finish announcing to enter the room, your presence seeming to shock the men within the room.

“Your highness, we did not expect you to make the trip to dragonstone in your condition.” You did not crack a smile, but instead take your place at the table.

“My condition is of no concern to you, but I ask, what is the state of this council that you would meet without the presence of the Queen, or the Prince royal?”

“Our forces require direction, and even with their unplanned absence, direction must still be taken.”

“If you’re not careful, one might think you see yourself above your Queen.”

None said a word, as you overlooked them even this close to labor—you encouraged a deep respect from the Lords, you knew why. You were true born—a sea of fire and stone.

Labor came quick in the night, dragon stone echoes your cries as you bare down with hands tight on the bedframe. You sent away your ladies and the nurses, their hands left unease as you recall your aunts passing. Your grandmother. Your mother.

The women who passed too quick as they took up the battle of baring a babe.

No husband. You think back to when he would smile at you, the way it sent a shockwave from head to toe. He used to love you more than power.

No mother. She mourned Lucerys still, absent from court and no way to tell her.

You feel another wave of pain run through your body, pressure building in your core as grit your teeth.

“Nurse!” Your voice quakes, it seems shattered by the pain. “Please! I think it’s time!” They seemed to manifest, figures appearing at your side as one of the older ladies lays hands upon your shoulders. Her eyes meeting yours.

“Milady, this is going to hurt, you will bleed and cry, and scream. And that is fine.” You nod, another wave of pain running through your muscles as they contract. “But I won’t leave your side, I will carry you through, so for now—just breathe.” She wipes away the sweat, “Prepare to push.” You nod again, inhaling deeply and note the way your breath feels as it leaves your lips.

Finding comfort in a stranger. “Her highness is ready.” No husband. No mother. Just you, a bed, and nurses. The nurse guides your hands to the frame, and you trust her—feeling her hand rest just beneath your belly button. The other on your back, as another nurse rests a cold cloth against your face.

“Now, when I say push. I need you to give it everything.” You exhale, putting your weight into the bed—centering your feet. Saying a word a quick prayer. You feel it start in your abdomen and spread, that wave of pain. “Now.” You release a guttural scream, one that comes from the deepest parts of your soul.

“Very good.” You lean forward, head against the wooden pillar—“Prepare.” Your face contorts as you feel the relief fade into pain once more, “Now.”

Aemond takes your hand quietly as the party fades off in the distance, the affair had become very real as he spins you into his arms.

“Perhaps as your husband, I would dance with you until dawn?” It was playful as he begins to sway, the music seeming to be hushed by the walls.

“Perhaps as your wife, I would never leave your side?” He smiles down at you, as you were the only person who always saw him.

“Perhaps as your husband, I would shower you in all the love you deserve?” You return the smile.

“As your wife, I’ll kiss you like this.” You lean up to meet his lips, one that grows deeper as his shock wears off. Neither ended the gesture for a minute, and neither said a word as Aemond left quickly. Your eyes widening as you realized you were alone.

It wasn’t until that night, in the darkest time, when a knock came from the door. It echoed as the palace slept.

“Aemond?” You look at the man beside him, “What?”

“Marry me?” Your eyes widen, a priest and a ring—one that shines in the warm light of candles. “If I am to have only one—” he takes your hand and slides the ring onto your finger. “Then I shall have you before I cannot.”

You brush the outside of your finger along the small and supple cheek of your babe, their sweet eyes still shut as the lull of their breath calms your soul. Something so small, and precious—“Laenor.”

A boy. An heir. You hum a soft song, as you take on the name of your son. His silvery tendrils of his hair giving away his heritage—another Targaryen prince.

“Sweet girl.” Your eyes shift upwards, smiling at your grandmother who enters the room with a steadfast gentleness. “Why did you not call on me?”

You glance down: “He came so quick.” The bed dips as she eases beside you, looking at him. “How perfect is he?”

“That he is.” She holds out her hands, and you pass the sweet child to her without fear. “What is his name?” You watch as she cuddles him into her, with the knowledge that this is her blood before her.

You smile: “Laenor.” Her eyes widen before settling back on the babe, your son.

“A strong name. Just as his grandsire.”

•

•

•

“To claim a dragon requires more than blood.” You hear the echo of your mother’s voice, “It requires sheer will.”

You imagined the day you faced a dragon, you would be claiming Seasmoke, but face to face with Vahaemion—the ancient beast of caverns. She hid deep in the mountains many years ago, and recently was spotted nearby.

You never thought you would take the leap, but you did, staring down the beast—you keep yourself upright.

“Lykiri…” She was once ridden, A Targaryen war dragon— “Lykiri Vahaemion.” She growls, but bends to the will of words. Lowering her head but never quite relaxing.

You do not hesitate, “Dohaeras.” You hold out your hand, “Lykiri.”

Sir Criston Cole sees a dragon breech the sky—l sporting a rider of silver hair. The dragon is large as well, with scales the color of soot. His eyes widen, one notable trait being the silvery purple scales that shimmer across the dragons chest—Vehaemion.

A bell rings out as you circle Kings Landing, your eyes set upon the balcony of your shared room. Knowing he would rise to see the commotion, called upon as a protector.

He sees you, instantly drawn as he makes contact and for a moment, you think he smiles. Upon neutral soil, you wait upon the cliffs edge for his arrival. Knowing it is time to face your sin.

“I always knew you’d claim a dragon.” His voice is as you remember, although it used to sound sweeter. “You and I are alike in that way.”

“I had hoped you’d ask of our son.” Your face remains stone, Aemond has trouble reading your expression.

His face brightens in a way that you do not appreciate, “A son?”

“He’s healthy. A beautiful boy.” You add quietly, knowing just as well that he would not care if it were a girl. “The Aemond I loved would have asked.”

“Laenor.” But he knows that, know you enough to know that is his name. He did shy from the idea, did not seem phased. For a moment you saw, Aemond. “Come home, Y/N?”

You shake your head, “Aemond I can’t. You’ve spilled too much blood. My blood.” Your grandmother. Your brother. There is too much.

“Y/N.” And for a moment, you let yourself enjoy the way he says your name. “It’s war.” Even now he admits it, he’d be on his knees if you asked. You are strong, look strong—dragon rider suits you. For a minute, you kiss him and let yourself have a moment with your husband. With the first and only love you’ve had. Just this moment.

You pull away, “you’re right. It is war.” You mount your dragon, leaving a part of you to die in that mountain. Knowing the next time you saw Aemond, you would be on opposite sides of the field.

[fan-goddess]

The decay of marital flesh

Authors Note: This has taken months to complete, and I am so happy that people have taken time to ask me about this and have wanted to have a part two of my original oneshot that I didn’t know would get so popular. So here’s the depressive thing that took me months to compete cause I needed to be in an angsty mood to write. Here’s my blood and angst

Summary: A part two of this piece here. This is the depressing version of it and the other happy part will be linked to this part here.

Warnings: Angst, mentions of miscarriage, mentions of p in v sex, mentions of f oral, self harm, blood, kinslaying, cheating on partner (I’ve probably no doubt missed warnings so if you see any you think I should add then let me know!)

Taglist: @ietss, @papichulo120627, @rorawinters, @introverbatim, @alicentswife, @brie-annwyl, @victoriagaunt, @kyla44, @pax-2735, @omgbcat @bellameshipper, @coolsiaisaqueenstuff, @snh96, @devils-blackrose, @blue-serendipity, @dahlias-and-marigolds, @glame, @jennifer0305, @humanpurposes, @valeskafics, @aemondwhoresworld @leiakim99

Whenever you slept, somehow the weight of the letter always found a way to haunt you. Whenever your hand managed to sweep under and made direct contact with the paper, it practically burned to the touch with no explanation how.

Klarissa had soon became one of your trusted, friends? She would come into your chambers to place your food in the morn and look at you intently and with questions she herself knew would remain unanswered. You never spoke to her again of the contents of the original letter, nor did she ever thankfully attempt to ever bring it up. It was thing about her you found yourself grateful for.

Though it seemed Klarissas silence on the topic may soon be broken. As recently, more letters, similar to the original, were beginning to make themselves known to you.

Though this time, you cannot bring yourself to read them. You can only stare at them while they burn into nothing in your fireplace. You can only watch as whatever words and meaning they once possessed become ash and soot. Maybe they were letters asking for forgiveness? Or asking for a conference where he begged for you to not spill his blood just as you instructed him that you would? Either way, you held firm belief that nothing of that sort would be happening.

Not while Aemond continued to breathe, and to live.

Aemond does not believe that you are reading any of his letters any more. The maid who had given to you his first letter, whose eyes once held fear of his position, now hold only sympathy and sadness. She doesn’t need to say what he had been fearing. It’s written plain and clearly all over her face.

Still, he can’t help but wish to cry at the realisation, even though he knew it would happen some time or later. An act he does not even think he’s done since he was robbed of his eye. Yet his sudden loss of you, the one person who he should have protected and been with, brings to him more emotion throughout his entire body than he’s felt in his entire life. Even when his sorrow begins to spread through out him, throughout his soul, the tears do not fall. He cannot dare let them. He cannot appear weak in front of the court. He cannot dare appear to be weak in front of you.

His chambers seem all too empty when he enters them. The bed appears stiff and uninviting. The books appear meaningless and empty. Even the fire seems too cold. Even when he begins edging closer and closer to the flames until he’s practically face to face with them.

“Aemond, what are you doing?!” His mothers frantic voice breaks him from his trance before he could fully put his arm in the fire. Only hearing the sudden frantic sound of his mother’s voice does he begin feeling the heat of the flames against his skin. It’s an addictive feeling, as for the first time in months he feels alive. It feels like your fiery touch is caressing him again.

“It does not matter mother… why are you here?” Aemond curtly says, begrudgingly stepping away from the flames to look at her with a soulless eye.

“Aemond, my son, I’m afraid that the court are beginning to talk. They question your marriage, they question your-“

“I do not care about what the people question mother!” Aemond shouts. Raw emotion and anger overflowing from his skin in waves as he stalks to his mother and grips her arms roughly in emphasis of his frustration. He can feel his unkempt nails digging into her arms, and he can even see the slight fear that slowly envelopes her. Yet still, he does not relent on his hold of her, even when she tries to escape from him. “The people do not know how it is I have suffered! How much my wife has suffered! I will not have those insufferable cunts dictating things about my own marriage!”

His nails unknowingly leave small dents in his mother’s arms. His nails which have grown long from neglect begin to draw into her skin so deeply that even with the clothing between the two, he nearly manages draws blood. It’s not even until she begins to wince and voice her pain does Aemond notice what he’s doing to her. What he’s doing to his own mother.

“M-mother I-“

“Save it Aemond. I know you are mourning in your own way. I know that your wife is mourning. She is mourning my son because it was you who betrayed the scared vows the two of you spoke together, and insisted that you drew blood for. It is well within her right to burst down these doors and draw that same blood from you with her own blade. I will not let you drag that girl down with you my son, just because you wish to cling to a long rotted away life that you yourself threw away, all for a fucking bastard wet nurse belonging to house strong!”

Aemond does not move when his mother shouts as him. He does not even blink when his mother’s passionate anger leaves small spit trails on his face. For everything she just said is true. It was him who broke the scared marital bond between him and you. For that, he should suffer no less than a thousand cuts.

Aemonds single eye goes back to the fire where he had sat earlier, and goes to sit there once more. Once again, he does not truly feel the heat it should be providing him. He adds a couple loose logs in the fire, prodding them around slightly with an iron poker.

Aemond drops it though when a log jolts suddenly and startles him, and hisses when the red hot poker makes contact with his upper thigh, burning him. Though he cannot deny the slight satisfaction it brings him to feel the pain flare through his clothes. So he strips himself till he is only in his underclothes, and he does it again, and again. Hissing under his breath each time it makes contact with the pale skin. Maybe this is how he will get closer to you? How he will successfully manage to feel the pain that you felt when you had to push the physical manifestation of his betrayal curse you? He knows it is unlike anything he could ever truly experience, but he has to try. For you, and for the baby he will never meet.

When you begin burning the next letter in the fire, adjusting it slightly with the poker hanging on the side of the fireplace, you can hear an unknown person entering the room with an audible creak coming from the direction of the door. Klarissa had slyly mentioned a few days previous how it was like that due to your infrequent comings and goings. If you didn’t know her name and respect her slightly, you probably would’ve had her relocated immediately for such cheek.

“I think my brother takes great time and thought into writing those letters princess.” A distinctive voice and nickname causes a rare smile to form, still looking at the fire before you.

“Good. Then maybe he’ll learn to be sorry and he’ll learn what my pain was like.” Your voice is surprisingly cold, even with such a warm smile on your lips. It even surprises yourself slightly.

“Well, as much as I do appreciate your determination for damning my brother, I don’t think he’ll share that same sentiment. Do you even read them? Or do you just immediately condemn them to ash? Because I’d hate to think some poor soul like my mother writes a letter to you only to have it thrown to the flames…”

“I’m not that overcome with anger, my prince. I do look at the handwriting of the letters before I, as you so plainly put it, condemn them to ash.” It’s almost annoying how easy it is for Aegon to make you smile. He’s become the light to shine you through your dark ages. A friend amongst the snakes and the thorns that weave and poison the court, looking only in ways to further their power.

“How many times have I told you sweet princess to call me Aegon? I think after everything we’ve done and been through together, we’d have been properly acquainted with each others company. As much as my little brother utterly detests the very idea of it.” Aegon now sits beside you at the fire, his everything already making your tensed frame ease into a more calm and relaxed one. He does not make any move to stop you from making sure the letter is properly burned into nothingness. An act you appreciate immensely.

“My brother, was a fool to believe he needed someone else to comfort him...”

The quick comment is also quickly followed by a deathly sort of silence in the room. The only thing being able to penetrate it being the comforting sound of the crackling flames.

Though not a few minutes after, from the corner of your eye, you can spot Aegons hand slowly and cautiously placing itself on your arm, drawing your attention to him as you cautiously drop the poker and turn to him. His face looks like the one of a deer when it’s caught in a trap, fear and panic. Though by the way he had approached you, it was as if he was trying to approach an unpredictable creature from the forest. A beast.

“Can I be so bold princess, as to say something to you?” His voice is practically one of a whisper. So meek that you didn’t know if you had heard him correctly the first time.

“Of course Aegon? You are my closest confidant.” Your words though, supposed to be ones of comfort, makes Aegons lips turn in a slight grimace. Yet still, he wets his lips before speaking.

“You… are everything any man I think could ever need in a wide. Which is why i am so disappointed in him. Why take that bastard into his bed, when he could have had you…” Aegon then cautiously leads his head forward and captures your open mouth with his own.

You cannot move. You cannot think. You cannot say anything to stop what is going on in that moment. There is only one thing that races specifically through your head however. One question that stands out from the rest.

Do you even want Aegon, your husbands brother, to stop?

In your confusion, you find yourself unable to move a muscle. Only it seems Aegon mistakes your lack of action and your confusion as a direct answer. Since his once shy hands move with a surprising confidence from your arm, to delicately cupping at your cheek and your head.

You cannot deny that the kiss did not leave a warm feeling erupting in your chest, and a fluttering sensation to churn in your heart. Yet there is one other thing you can think off while this is happening. You can only ponder on how strange it truly feels to kiss another man other than your husband. How strange it is to betray your marriage like he had done.

When Aegon finally breaks away from you, you can see that his eyes have grown dark with presumably desire. Yet unlike other men, he makes no move to direct you to the nearest bed like you would expect him to do. Instead, it looks as if his eyes have softened as they look into your own. A strange kind of peace drifting over him that you’d never really seen on him, nor even on another person before.

“Why did you do that…” You mutter, watching the way the flames make his skin look almost golden in the light.

His eyes though still hold that same strange look of softness, and his hand begin to stroke at your cheek with a strange type of fondness.

“Because I’ve been wanting to do it for quite some time now.”

It’s so simple. Spoken so calmly with a careless shrug, that it’s almost as if it was the easiest thing Aegons ever said in his life, and yet it causes an immediate feeling of panic and terror to erupt deep within your chest.

Your head moves your body in such a hurry that you had almost toppled over, if Aegon had not clutched at you so quickly to keep you steady. Yet at the feeling of his practically burning hands on your bare skin you push away from him.

Your head races with the discovery of Aegons… desires? Feelings even? Whatever they are, they’re something you never would’ve known about if not for Aemonds betrayal to his vows.

You know you should be angry at Aegon for what he has done. Angry at yourself even for not immediately pushing him off of you, a still married woman. And yet, when he kissed you, you felt more alive and happy then you’ve felt since Aemonds betrayal.

Even as you pace the room, Aegons keen eyes watch you with concern and slight anticipation at your next move. Like a dog always waiting for it’s masters command. He doesn’t move from the spot he originally sat in, only turning on his and trailing after your pacing with his eyes.

“I don’t know if I could ever love you-“

“You do not have to love me!” At the confession, Aegon is suddenly standing before you, your hands clasped tightly in his. Almost too tightly. As if he was grasping a delicate object he was too afraid would collapse and smash into a thousand pieces. The issue with that concern though, is that you’ve already been broken into thousands of tiny pieces and put back together again. In the end, there’s nothing left for him to break that’s not already been broken before. “All you need to do, my sweet princess, is let me in…”

This time, you do not break away so suddenly from Aegon when he kisses you again. Instead, you tightly grip at his warm fire like flesh in your fingers, and allow for his body to envelope you in senses you thought would never be awoken again.

That night, you felt the crash of everything you have ever been feeling, and everyone that’s made you feel that pain hit you all at once. That night, the hurting finally stopped for a time, and was replaced with only pleasure.

Aemond feels tired, exhausted, and drained, all in one. The words that he attempts to write to you blur all into one as his head swims with an ache that he has no idea whether is due to his deformity or due to his lack of sleep and self care. Either way, it’s in the way, and if Aemond could, he would rip it from his head so he could be done with it all.

He’s seen glimpses and heard plenty of tales of Aegon coming and going from your chambers. Seemingly, a strange bond has formed between the two of you, as before his time at Harrenhal, you’d never spoken to him. Yet now, he hears whispers of his brother leaving your presence and your chambers nearly every day.

Now he not only is jealous of his brothers soon to be crown. Now, he must bear witness and be forced to sit and wallow in his jealousy of Aegons access to your touch and your voice. Of Aegons access to his wife.

The letter in front of him, his unknown number attempt at reconciliation, is half written. The quill in his hand half poised to write as it drips dark raven ink onto the page and bleeds onto the dark oak desk.

Maybe he should write it with his own blood? Slice his palm and let it drip into a cup, before dipping his quill into it and writing his heartbreak with it. If he shows you how much he’s willing to bleed for you, maybe you’ll finally be willing to read his words and allow him to see you again…

There’s now a cramp in his hand from where he’s paused himself, and yet he strangely relishes in the onslaught of dull pain being given to him by his hand and head.

Maybe it’s a sign from the gods that he should stop himself? For he betrayed both the maiden and the mother when he laid with that fucking witch from Harrenhal, and it feels as if he should be praying nightly to the father for him to be brought to justice for you.

However now, with the considerable amount of time that he is being forced to spend away from you and your arms, he feels as though he should pray to the Stranger, late at night, when the moon is high and full. He should pray to him to slice his head from his shoulders and place him away from his misery forever more.

Though with his Targaryen heritage, there is no doubt that they have been waiting for an opportunity like this to pluck him and his family from their very roots for their many sins…

It has been a few months since you, ‘let Aegon in’, as he’d so put it. Though if you were to be honest with yourself, you’ve never felt as calm of character, as you were when you were with Aegon.

Still, you must admit, that whenever his head of short and unkempt silver hair is laid in your lap, facing away from you, your mind begins to wander of other things. You end up always thinking of his hair being twice as long, and his body being twice as lean.

You concluded that the gods must be punishing you for your sins. For practically abandoning your husband for a man of his own blood and partaking in pleasures of the flesh with him. But if this was how the gods had decided to punish you, how were they punishing Aemond…

“It is alright my love, we do not need to do it again until you are willing.” Aegon had said whilst stroking the bare skin of your arm with a distinguishable fondness.

You hadn’t the strength to tell him that the reason why you could not bring yourself to lay with him again is because the memory of Aemond still lives on in you forever. The ones that used to make you smile in fondness, but now make you wish to tear out his other eye with your bare hands and have his blood drip from your fingernails.

Aemonds memory that constantly lies within you is now a plague. A plague of constant mourning and sadness. A plague that is never ending and never relenting.

The memory of him still lives on months later, where for the first time ever, you leave your room dressed properly and looking like a true lady of the court. Aegon stands by your side in what you believe in his eyes is for your protection. But why would you need protection when your heart has been broken and stitched back together carelessly two times already?

Though as Aegons tries to murmur what your sure is meant to be encouraging murmurs of affection in your ear, your ears prick up to the sound of a familiar sound of footsteps, and you look up and connect eyes with your husband.

Your feet stop where they stand, and Aegons hands clench firmly against your own as he continues murmuring some kind of unknown gibberish in your ear. But you ignore him and look only at your husband. Who in turn, stares only at Aegons hands that are intwined in your own. You can see even from where you are standing, the way his brows furrow in annoyance at the sight, and somehow, you can feel your heart break for the third time in your lifetime as Aemond swiftly walks away without sparing you another glance.

You’re here. You’re walking close as can be with his brother and you’re standing in front of him looking at him with shocked doe like eyes.

The anger that blooms in his chest is nothing like the anger he felt when he killed Luke. It’s nothing similar to the anger he felt when he faced the injustice of his father when he was robbed of his eye. This is a new type of anger. It’s an obsession. A new type of injustice that only the feeling of blood on his skin could possibly have the power to diminish. But not your blood. Never your blood. No. Aemond craves Aegons blood on his blade.

He doesn’t even realise that he walked away from you until he looks around and realises he’s in his chambers, and his eye stares at the half written letter that still pathetically lays on his desk. An old pot of ink and a ruffled quill still waiting for him to pick up again.

His rage that still boils like a dragons fire within him feels no bounds as he tempts himself into ripping the letter. Into grabbing his dagger tucked away in his belt and stalking his way through the passages to Aegons chambers, where he’d wait till the sun goes down to strike him when he least expects it, and grin as Aegons chokes on his blood with fear and betrayal in his eyes. Watching with glee as Aegon dies for his crime. Trying to take what rightfully belongs to him.

But then, Aemond properly begins to think. You seemed to be close to be brother, if the closeness Aegon held you and the way he so closely whispered into your ears meant anything. If he killed his brother, it would only mean that he killed another one of the people you cared about. And Aemond refused to give you another reason for you to be scornful of him.

Aemond gives in though and rips the letter on the desk, and with a huff begins a new one. His anger and his frustration clear in his writing and with how many times the quill almost goes through the page with how fiercely and carelessly he uses it. He imagines your happiness though as he writes. The way you used to smile at him with such unique brightness. The way your cheeks would flush a beautiful light pink when he teased you. He even dared to think and reminisce on the way your face would shift into one of pure pleasure when he’d sit before the heaven that lay between your thighs, and lick and suck till he felt you spill no less than three times on his tongue.

The last thought soured though as he imaged Aegon seeing you like that. Seeing your smile, your happiness, your pleasure. The grip on his quill so strong he felt it snap between his fingers. A sharp shard of it bringing a small drop of blood to drop and pool on the page bellow. Yet Aemond didn’t choose to begin a new letter clear of his blood. He allowed it to stay there and continue with the same paper, so he could show his devotion to you. So he could show his willingness to bleed for you. Show how much he values his vow to shed as much blood as he needed to in order to achieve your forgiveness. It was truly an addictive thought, seeing you again. And one he could never stop running through his head when he thought of the future.

Aemond finished the letter, writing on the paper front and back with no less than three separate pages before he deemed his rant to be over. Blood pooling on various areas on all of them. His fingers now cramping around the new quill that he’d grabbed with each flex of his hand, and the ache that has sadly dulled around the cut to Aemonds relief remains pungent. If he could, he would pray to all Seven Gods for the wound to never heal. So you could see his devotion to you. To witness the death of his sanity in front of your very eyes.

There are no guards outside the front of your chambers. A fact Aemond cannot help but be disgusted by when he sees it as he walks to the familiar doors. Later that night he’ll find those two men tasked with the purpose of keeping you safe, and he’ll make sure to strip them of whatever dignity and honour they believed to possess. Perhaps the comfort of the wall would suit them nicely? Or the kiss of his blade?

Aemond raises his fist to knock at the door, but voices keep him from doing so. Specific voices. Yours and Aegons voices…

Before he knows it, Aemond is pushing himself against the wood as much as he can so he can hear every beautiful syllable of your voice. He does not care at first for the meanings behind them, but he certainly begins to when he realises what he is listening too are some very familiar high pitched sounds. Breathless sounds that Aemond had told you on yours and his wedding night that only he would hear.

While Aemond waits outside your door, he can hear your voices of pleasure radiating from the other side.

His fists are clenched no more to knock, but instead in anger. And the dulled throb of the small cut earlier on his hand flares up again as it reopened from his carelessness. Yet instead of moving to stem the blood, Aemond grows an idea deep from within him. Aemond snatches his dagger from his belt, and with no hesitation, quickly slices a deep mark on his inner palm.

His posture and frame is deathly still while the blood begins to heavily pool and drip onto the ground, only moving to place his hand firmly against the wooden door, watching it drip down the dark wood and trail to the stone flooring.

He can see the large puddle flow under your door, and Aemond wishes nothing more at that moment for you to see it. To see him. To see his devotion. His love. His sacrifice for you. If he hadn’t already lost it, Aemond would’ve torn out his eye and shoved it under the door too as a gift for you to make you stop your torturing of his soul.

Aemond only steps away when the blood pool reaches his shoes, and even then it’s with great resistance from himself as he stuffs the still bleeding wound against his dark coat that already begins to rapidly absorb the blood. He can even feel it soak his undershirt and his skin.

He goes straight to his chambers that night instead of paying a visit to the maesters. He does the same the next night, and the one after that.

Instead, Aemond relishes in the look he receives from Aegon the next morning. The look of utter horror and fear that speaks at least over a thousand words. The look that tells him you now finally know of his gift and his devotion to you. The look that tells him he is one step closer to you again.

Aemond Targaryen refuses to rest until he is drained entirely of his blood and it is pooled directly at your feet. He refuses to rest until his heart is laid bare in his hands and is presented to you like a septa presents the gods with their offerings. Until his name can be uttered from your precious lips without your own heart breaking from sorrow.

Aemond Targaryens heart could break a thousand times over, each time bloodier than the next, but he refuses to allow yours to break again. Not by his hand at least…

[sapphire-writes]

hey! I was just passing by and wanted to know if your requests are still open? If so, I would like to request one about Aemond x yn (who is the daughter of Rhaenyra) yn is visiting Kingslanding, she is seeing Viserys and begins to receive "timely" visits from lords who want to ask the king directly for her hand since Rhaenyra has not been able to convince her to marry one. She ran away from all these suitors since she was a little girl and Aemond helped her when they were kids but the adult Aemond doesn't want to do such "childish things" so she keeps coping, eventually he gets fun by the ways she scares them away everyone, until he sees a persevering one who is still there and when he sees him talking to her, he feels jealous and scares him with Vahagar, she is happy and thinks that in a certain way, they can still be united as when they were children. After that she has no visitors (Aemond is in charge of scaring everyone away with Vhagar) and spends time with him, eventually she returns to Dragonstone and he appears one day and finds her hiding because she heard that she would receive a visit of a new suitor, he helps her hide while she talks about how she will scare off the new idiot who comes to ask for her hand, how he will make his stay in Dragonstone a hell and Aemond is just there, watching her with a smirk while hears her bc he's the idiot who came to Dragonstone to ask for her hand. sorry if this is too long or specific, but i was thinking in this idea so long and i don't found one with this dynamic i just want a Aemond with a soft spot with a sunshine and witty reader that is his opposite. Thanks! x

Catch Me If You Can ~ Aemond x Velaryon(Strong)!Reader

note: I absolutely loved this idea! all my lovely requests are always so creative, I'm enjoying writing these so much! Also haven't been tagging people on requests - is that something people still want me to tag them on? just let me know, happy to do so! word count: 2.3k masterlist warnings: mentions/descriptions of fainting 💚requests are open💚

The first lord who tried to kiss you returned to his father with a blackened eye. Your grandsire, King Viserys had laughed, a sound deep within his chest at your angered expression and reddened knuckles. 

“The blood of the dragon burns fiercely in your child, Rhaenyra,” he told his daughter while placing a loving hand atop your head. Rhaenyra had smiled weakly at her father, knowing the trouble you were likely to give her was a lot like what she gave her father. 

Though you were a small child, lords flocked to your mother desperate to arrange a betrothal for your hand. As the only daughter of Princess Rhaenyra, it was quite the competition for your hand. Your mother looked for your counsel, wanting to share with you the same autonomy her father had allowed her. 

“I do not wish to marry,” you told her, a fierceness in your small voice. You sat atop your father’s lap, as the maester applied a salve to your reddened knuckles. Ser Harwin stood close behind you, inspecting the damage done. 

“Sweetling, you need not be wed for quite some time,” she assured, “but a betrothal-”

“Ever.”

Rhaenyra’s brows lifted and she looked towards your father and Ser Harwin. Laenor shrugged, while Ser Harwin chuckled, a soft expression on his face as he gazed upon you. 

“She shall grow out of it,” Laenor insisted to Rhaenyra later that night, “look at us, we said very similar things and are married.”

But Rhaenrya knew her daughter well. 

As more lords approached Rhaenyra, more attempted to court you. Lords laughed at Jacaerys and Luke, saying they were unafraid of the young princes, lest they attempt to scare them off from marrying their sister. 

“It is Y/N you need be fearful of,” Jace and Luke would say, causing faces to drain of color. 

You were a clever child, evading suitors in the gardens, hiding within the walls of the sept. There was even a time you told a lord of the Reach to meet you down near the black cells. The boy left screaming, causing you to snicker. 

Your uncle Aemond would help you with your antics as well. You often pretended to have fainting spells, as many maidens did in hopes of wooing a suitor. You did so far less gracefully. When your mother forced you on a stroll with a lord from Riverrun, you crumpled to the ground as soon as he began talking of his adventures fishing. 

Aemond was quick to your side. 

“I must apologize for my niece,” he said, scooping his arms underneath you, as though to drag you from the scene. 

“Is she quite well?” the lord asked, a look of concern on his face. 

“Yes quite, she shall be alright,” Aemomd insisted, as you let your legs hang heavy as though weighted with lead, your head hanging over your shoulder. You fluttered your lashes holding a hand to your forehead. Aemond suppressed a smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

“Oh uncle, I had the most terrible dream,” you said as he dragged you away, “ a rather large fish was trying to swallow me whole!” Aemond burst out a sharp laugh before composing himself.

After the events of Driftmark, your mother does not bring up the matter of a betrothal for many years. Rhaenyra requested the help of her father to set you up with a match and sends you to the Red Keep as you reach maidenhood. This is unknown to you, as your mother has you believing you are going to the capital to spend time with your grandsire.

You fill your days with visiting your grandsire, whose health is steadily declining. You sit in his chambers and read to him often, though you are unsure if he can hear you. Soon after you begin this, Queen Alicent begins depositing lords to sit by Viserys bedside, keeping you company. You spot the trick right away, furious. 

You have just stormed out of your grandsire’s chambers when you run into your uncle. Aemond looks down at you, a smile playing on his lips as you crash into his sturdy chest. He has grown to be a fearless warrior, the years of training have hardened him. He towers above you, looking like a knight from a song with his long silver hair, and eyepatch that covers the memory of years ago.

“You must help me,” you tell him, and Aemond raises a brow. 

“With what, niece?” he questions, taking in your blushing cheeks and annoyed expression. 

“There is a plot to marry me off,” you tell him, glancing behind him and seeing the lord walking down the hall attempting to catch up with you. 

“Quickly, I shall faint,” you whisper to Aemond, who holds you upright as you begin to lean into his lithe frame. 

“Stop that foolishness,” he insists, wrapping his fingers around your forearms, “you are not a child anymore.” 

You frown at him, tearing your arms from his grasp, cheeks burning at his insulting tone. 

“Princess Y/N!” the lord says, standing next to you, “I had thought I lost you-”

You cut him off with a sharp stomp on his foot. The lord yelps in pain, hopping on one foot as you speed away from him. Aemond raises his eyebrows in surprise, watching as you dash away. 

Though Aemond refuses to take part in your antics, he does find humor in them. You enlist Helaena to help, having her cover you in fuzzy caterpillars one morning during a walk in the gardens. The lord you are with turns green as you place a caterpillar on his nose. 

It is all in good fun, and Aemond enjoys watching how you laugh and laugh when one by one the suitors disappear. He doesn’t believe any of them are worthy of you anyway. 

That is until a lord of the Westerlands comes to win your hand. He is a dashing fellow, with a sly smile and golden locks who sets his sights on you as though a lion cornering its prey. The lord takes your antics in stride, the first is you knocking a goblet of wine on his white shirt during supper. 

“I do apologize, my lord,” you told him, “I am a terrible klutz you see, hardly a lady who can be expected to run an estate.”

“Nonsense, it is no bother,” the lord says, “besides, you are a princess, you behave how you like.”

This shocks you, and to Aemond’s displeasure, the lion lord keeps up with you. Even when stepping on his toes while dancing, even when arriving late for dinner. The lord simply smiles and continues to dote on you. 

You grow frustrated and worry that Queen Alicent will send word to Rhaenyra that this is a good match. You try to concoct a plan one day and take him to visit your dragon at the dragonpit in hopes she shall scare him off. The lion lord is not easily frightened and instead calls your young dragon sweet. You frown in displeasure. 

As you exit the dragon pit, a shadow covers the entirety of the clear blue sky. Your lion lord looks up, stricken with a fearful expression. You follow his gaze, a wicked smile appearing on your face. 

Vhagar is a monstrous beauty. She is far too large for the dragonpit, and she lands instead behind it. You look at the lord’s face and take his hand.

“Come now, let us greet my uncle,” you say happily, dragging him behind you. 

As you reach Vhagar you watch as Aemond descends. 

“Niece,” he says, “my lord.” 

Aemond had watched you on your way to the dragonpit, an uneasy feeling of jealousy in his stomach. He had observed your attempts at ridding yourself of the lion lord, and how desperate you had become. Aemond had seen your dragon; your dragon would not scare a small dog, let alone a man. Aemond told himself he had no choice but to come from your aid. 

“Uncle!” you say, smiling so wide Aemond feels his heart nearly stop beating, “would you care to introduce Vhagar to my lord?” you say, gesturing to the man beside you. His knees have begun to buckle, his face is pale as he looks at Vhagar. 

Aemond’s smile is feline and Vhagar roars loudly, shaking the ground beneath your feet. You laugh as she does, a sharp joyful sound. 

“Come my lord,” Aemond says, beckoning the man forward, “though I must warn you, Vhagar is very temperamental. The last time she met someone she did not like, it ended rather unfortunately for them.”

The lord’s eyes nearly pop from his skull. He shakes his head and Aemond scoffs. 

“My lord,” he says, in a disapproving tone, “you wish to marry a dragon, and yet you cannot face one?” 

Your grin is wicked as you watch the lord’s mouth open and close, a squeak leaving him. Aemond chuckles darkly.

“You are more of a house cat than a lion, my lord,” he sneers, “run along now.”

The lord leaves hurriedly with the permission of the prince, racing back towards the streets of King’s Landing. You laugh and laugh, much to Aemond’s pleasure. The sounds send warmth throughout his body. You look towards your uncle, a strong feeling of unity in your heart. 

After that, you do not have any other visitors as you spend most of your days on dragonback with Aemond. Those who try to gain your affection must face a trial to deem them worthy of you. This mainly includes Aemond introducing them to Vhagar. Not one lord lasts long when staring down the beast that lived beside the Conqueror. 

Eventually, Queen Alicent writes to Rhaenyra that the efforts are fruitless and you are summoned back home. You depart King’s Landing, promising Aemond you shall write to him, as you have greatly enjoyed his company during your stay. The last month has rekindled a fire within your heart for the one-eyed prince. Aemond hates watching you leave, your presence in the Red Keep was a warmth that is not easily replaced. 

Weeks go by, and there is no news of any suitors coming to visit you at Dragonstone. You spend your days flying and attempting to learn High Valyrian, something that has not come easily for you. 

“Y/N,” Rhaenyra calls, “come here my love, we are to have a visitor.”

You freeze with fear as you hear your mother’s voice from the great hall. Slowly, you back down the hallway urgently trying to find a place to hide. Rhaenyra knows Dragonstone like the back of her hand, better than you do. You curse at the thought of her finding you and presenting you to another dreary lord. 

As you pitter-patter down the hall away from your mother’s calls, your back hits something sturdy and warm. You turn and to your surprise, come face to face with Aemond. 

“Aemond!” you say in a hushed whisper, relief flooding through you. You smile at him, throwing your arms around him. He hugs you close, burying his face in your hair. Reluctantly you pull away. 

“Thank the gods you are here,” you tell him, taking his hand in yours, “you must help me.”

You pull him towards a nearby veranda, as a smile plays on his lips. 

“With what, dear niece?” he asks, eye flickering all over your face. He has missed the sight of you this past month. 

“A suitor, how mother keeps finding these fools is beyond me,” you whisper, gazing over the edge of the veranda, “perhaps this time I have a spell, I shall fall over here.” You motion to the edge of the balcony. Aemond looks at you, an amused look on his face.

“You mean to throw yourself to your death?” he asks and you shake your head. 

“You shall catch me,” you tell him, smiling eagerly, “ride below on Vhagar and you shall be my savior.” Your eyes are aglow with glee at the thought. 

“Ingenious, I know,” you tell him, “the fool shall wet himself with fear. Surely that shall be enough, lest I am sure you and I can make his stay here dreadful.”

Aemond cannot keep the smile from his face as he watches your face light up with mischief. 

“Y/N, I cannot,” he says, though reluctant to deny you. Your smile falters, brows knitting together in confusion. Aemond has always proved to be your partner in crime in the end, and his denial of your wishes sends a stabbing pain in your heart. 

You believed you would never feel ready for marriage, wanting nothing more than to fly on dragonback for the rest of your days exploring the pleasures of the known world. But after your stay in King’s Landing, you decided marriage may not be so bad if your husband enjoyed similar pleasures. 

“Please uncle, just once more,” you beg, clasping your hands in his. Surely he wouldn’t let you slip away from him, not when he had so willingly scared away previous suitors. 

“I cannot,” he repeats, and you feel like screaming. 

“I do not understand,” you tell him pouting, “you have helped so much before-”

“I cannot help because it is I who has come for your hand.”

You blink, looking up at him, your lips parted in surprise. You look down at your hands that are still intertwined with his. 

“I am the fool,” Aemond tells you, an amused smirk on his handsome face. 

He lifts your hands towards his mouth, placing a kiss atop your knuckles, violet eye never leaving yours. Aemond watches you closely, sizing up your reaction to his reveal. You do not speak for several moments, as a blush forms on your cheeks. 

“I feel quite faint,” you whisper, and Aemond chuckles. 

“Do you jest?” he asks, eyes narrowing.

You shake your head, a dreamy expression on your face as you smile.

“Not this time, I’m afraid,” you say and Aemond drops your hands, snaking his arms around your waist to press you against him. 

“Do not fret,” he murmurs, placing a kiss atop your head. You can feel him smile into your hair. 

“I shall catch you.”

[thewritetofreespeech]

In the Dark

pairing: Aemond x Targaryen!reader [Rhaenyra & Daemon's daughter]

summary: one night, while coming back from the Street of Silk, Aemond runs into an all too familiar figure in the dark. request from @brideofcthulhu10

tags: married reader, targaryen incest, tw: knives, tw: mentions of potential SA

-------------------------------⚔️--------------------------------

The Street of Silk was never quiet, but they were usually a bit more subdued this time of night. Aemond had planned for it this way.

Leaving the comfort of the palace to find comfort somewhere else, the prince always snuck out under the cover of darkness and returned just the same. No one the wiser. No one able to catch him and mock that he would be out here with whores instead of in bed with his wife. No one able to know what he was really doing here….

The prince adjusted his cloak to pull around him to make his way back to the secret tunnels of the castle. He rounded the corner and paused as he caught a glimpse of another figure in the streets. Not unusual, but not the usual sort either. Aemond’s good eye scanned the potential witness and noticed that their cloak was made of much finer material than any other in Flea Bottom. Too nice for peasants, though it clearly made efforts to seem plain.

Aemond growled through his teeth as he realized who it was. Even with the cloak, those whisps of silver hair that snuck out of the hood are a dead giveaway. Although Aemond had already memorized the gait. “What are you doing out here?” He hissed at his wife as he appeared behind her like a shadow.

You spun around fast. Wide eyed in startled fear, which quickly faded when you realized it was him. An odd feeling for Aemond, as it was usually the other way round when people realized it was him. “Don’t scare me like that!”

“What are you doing out here?” He repeated, still hissing, but more from the whispering now. “What are you doing outside the castle, alone, at night, without an escort?!” His blood boiled with each new remark to his list. Aemond thought his wife clever for a time, but he would have to rethink that in this lunacy.

You glared at him. “I do not need an escort.” You insisted. “And what are you doing out here? Last you told me; you would be with Ser Cristion for the night.”

The apple of his throat bobbed, but Aemond refused to admit he gulped at the accusations of his wife. True, they were both at fault here. Sneaking out unbeknownst to their people and partner. The only difference was that Aemond’s transgression did not come with the inherited danger a young lady, alone, in the middle of the night had. Your life was not your own now, and Aemond was angry that you were being so careless with it.

“That is immaterial. You do need an escort. What if I had been a stranger in the dark?”

“I can handle myself, Aemond.” You continued to insist. Why did the Gods have to give him such an infuriating woman as a wife? “I’m not the soft petal that other women in the palace are. I’m a Targaryen.”

True, you were not as soft as the other ladies. Rhaenyra may bare bastards left & right, and Daemon may be an opportunistic lech, but they had done right by their daughter. Teaching you to not only be an adequate lady of court, but also a skilled rider, both of dragon & horse, and how to defend yourself. Targaryens were never short of enemies. It was best to be prepared. But their Targaryen jewel had not been trained in the same way Aemond had. More how to hold a knife and properly thrust when the moment came, but not actually overcome a group of attackers if swarmed.

“Targaryen’s bleed just as much as anyone, ābrazȳrys.” Aemond told her. Stepping close. You predictably take a step back away from his ire. “We are not immortal like our beasts. What would you have done if I had been another man? Two men? Twenty?”

Your back eventually hit a walk. Locked on with Aemond’s eye as you felt a swell of fear in your belly at his words. “I…I would run away.”

Aemond cruelly laughed at your answer. “You would outrun twenty men? You’re fast, byka ābrazȳrys,” he remembers the races they had when they were children, before he sprouted to his current height, “but not fast enough to outrun twenty.” He then used that impressive height of his to quell around you. His arm coming up to place his hand against the wall. Blocking one exit. “What would you do if I had been a stranger in the dark?”

There was a tense moment between you. You felt trapped. You have to force your body to stay still and not tremble. “Stop it Aemond.” You hiss as you try to push him away. He’d made his point. Perhaps this was a bad idea. But you would never admit it.

“Who's Aemond?" Your eyes flickered up to him as Aemond’s voice sounded different. Void of the subtle hints of affection he had for you, and stone cold. A blade was suddenly out from by his pocket and by your throat. “I'm just a faceless, masked man in the dark.”

Your back went straight against the wall as you tried to create as much space as possible between you, Aemond, and the knife. “S-Stop it…”

“Make me.” Was his reply. “You’re a strong, capable Targareyn, aren’t you? Make me stop.”

You realize you can’t. You’re too afraid. This was indeed Aemond, your husband who loved you, but your mind kept thinking on what if this wasn’t Aemond. What if this had been a strange man in the dark? What is this wasn’t a test but truly real? An enemy of your mother? An enemy of Aemond? Or just a man like so many in the city who pulled women into dark alleys and forced them to their needs? What if this had been real?

Aemond saw the fear welling up inside you as tears came to your eyes in panic. He put the knife away and leaned in to give you a kiss. His build softening around you as the point had been made and the ‘game’ was over. You cling to Aemond in relief. Like a life raft out to sea. Overcome with emotions you kiss your husband desperately in a manner unbecoming of commoners in an alley, much less royalty.

Aemond kissed you back with equal fervor. Never missing an opportunity to kiss you. Relief also washed over him as well, thinking on the what-ifs if he had not run into you and another man did. What could have happened to you. The prince growled possessively at the thought and ran his hands over your body to claim it from these imaginary brigands. You moaned against his lips. Breasts heaving as you pant against him while his knee slid up between your legs as he bucked against you. “Let us go home issa jorrāelagon.”

You nodded fervently. You just wanted to go home now. Be with your husband. Be in the palace walls. Be safe.

The prince released you and the two of you walked back through the cobblestone streets for the tunnels. “Why are you out here anyway, issa jorrāelagon?” He realized you had never answered him.

“Father told me once of a spot past the Iron Gate that, if you look out at it at sunrise, you can see Valyria.” Aemond resisted the urge to roll his eye. What a ridiculous story. Valryia was leagues away. He’d barely come close to it on Vhagar; though in truth he would never fly near the place after what happened to Princess Aerea. “I know it’s silly, but I wanted to see it.”

“Why now?” He asked. You had lived in King’s Landing on & off for most of your life. Had you wish to see ‘The Valyrian Sun’ (yes, he knew what she was talking about) you could have done so at any time before. Why now, alone, when such danger was about for them?

“In times of trouble, I look to the Old Gods more, like your mother looks to the Seven.” Daemon’s influence, no doubt. Or perhaps it was just her own. Aemond parroted the phrases and did the prayers when asked by his mother, but he would not truly say he was bound to one set or the other. “I thought it might bring me some clarity on things. Some answers.”

“Answers on what?” You don’t answer, which made Aemond suspicious, but he doesn’t pry further. “Why didn’t you just ask me to come with you?”

“I thought you wouldn’t go if I told you it was something my father taught me.”

He frowned. Did you really think him that petty of the man that he wouldn’t go just because Daemon Targaryen taught of it first. “Come. This way.”

You do not have time to react as Aemond took your hand and pulled you down a different alley. “Where are we going?”

“The proper way.” He told you. “You were headed for the Dragon’s Gate. Yet another reason why you need an escort.” You frown at Aemond’s slight but follow after him.

The two of you meet the ‘Valyrian Sun’ together. There is no cast of Old Valyrian in the sun beams, nor any of the answers you seek. But when you turn to look at Aemond amongst the sunrise, you feel some kind of peace. Some kind of answers. “Let’s go home.”

[marthawrites]

Between the Covers

Modern Aemond Targaryen x girlfriend reader

Word count: 3.4k+

Can be read as a one shot but reads best as part two to Summer's End, Autumn's Beginning

About: During a cozy night in at your place, Aemond discovers your new taste for “literature”. Upon confronting you about it he makes a deal. Part of you wants to say no… but, you ultimately agree to his terms.

Includes: Established relationship, fluff, teasing, banter, and smut featuring breast play (reader is implied to have sensitive breasts), minor vampire play, pussy eating, vaginal fingering, Aemond loses his mind at the mention of blood sucking, dirty talk, vaginal sex, and reader and Aemond say 'I love you'

Note: Hello lovely reader! This might be ooc for Aemond but it's ic for the Aemond in my heart! My heart and pussy wrote this so if you have a problem with it up take it up with them!! Reader is non-descript! As always, I hope you enjoy this fic ♥

Autumn turned to winter, then winter to spring, and things with you and Aemond were better than ever. According to Aegon the two of you were “disgustingly cute”, and Helaena, on more than one occasion, admitted how she’d never seen her little brother so happy. 

Alys, despite her best efforts, had been fully removed from the picture after the last big fight that had you and Aemond taking a long self-reflecting break. 

Perhaps the universe really did do you a favor by making you face an ugly side of yourself–jealousy, distrustfulness, suspicion. Was it fun to look at in the eyes? No. Absolutely not. But, it made you realize things about yourself which ultimately lead you and Aemond to give the relationship another chance: a real honest chance. 

He too was far from perfect and had his own baggage and scores to settle. But at the end of the day you two were fucking wild for each other. And that’s all that mattered.

While your third floor apartment wasn’t anything compared to the sprawling Targaryen estate, it was cozy and located in one of the nicer neighborhoods in King’s Landing. Any city had its slums and dark underbellies, but thankfully you didn’t have to deal with either of those. Inwardly you were convinced that if you did live in one of those shady places that Aemond would swoop you away to his own private quarter in his family’s mansion. The idea of moving in together had been hinted at a couple times and each time your belly–and heart–did flips. One day, sure, maybe. But, now? You hadn’t even been together for a year yet. Moving in together was a huge commitment.

Perhaps something to consider for your three-year plan. 

Or, one-year plan.

You both had a free day tomorrow, so Aemond took advantage of it and stayed the night. After dinner you took a shower and he waited in your bedroom, searching for something to watch. 

There were so many choices. Why was there always so many choices? It made it such a challenge to actually decide on something!

When you came out with damp hair and your favorite pajamas–a big shirt and cute underwear–you proclaimed, “I saw an A24 movie last night I think we’d both like!”

He looked over at you from where he lay lounging on your bed in black sweats and a white tee, barely contained amusement plastered on his face. “As much as I love those, I’m less interested in movies now that I’ve found this,” he said, holding up the latest book you’ve been reading. 

Oh. 

Oh no. 

Did you forget to put it back on your shelf? Warmth flooded your face. “Baela was talking about it and she talked it up so much I had to check it out!” You admitted a little too quickly, hiding an embarrassed smile behind a hand.

“Uh-huh,” he smirked. “Vampire smut? If you’re so bored by The Two Towers all you had to do was say something.”

Your eyes–no, your whole face–brightened with shared amusement. “What! No, it’s not smut. There’s plot!” You said defensively (perhaps not convincingly, though, with the giggle), as you hopped on the bed and straddled him. His slim hips fit so easily between your bare, soft thighs, it was almost criminal. Mischief sent his eye twinkling. You took the book from him and cleared your throat, preparing to read the synopsis on the back. “Listen, ‘kay? This explains it really well.”

“Already read the back,” he said, sly. “And comments on goodreads. Seems to be extremely popular with women. There were… lots of caps, exclamation points, sweaty face and fire emojis… rave reviews.” Sometimes when he smiled–really smiled–he had little dimples; they were out on full display, now. He ran his wide, warm palms up your thighs, thumbs skimming dangerously close to that delicate space between your thighs he loved so, so fucking much. “Do you want to know what my favorite part is though?” He asked as if it were a secret.

Goosebumps tickled your skin as he teased you. You didn’t bother to put a bra on and you suddenly became acutely aware of your t-shirt’s texture as your sensitive nipples tightened beneath it. How easily your body reacted to his. “What’s your favorite part?”

He took the book from you and opened it. Smirking, he read Baela’s note she left for you on a post-it sticky, his voice an octave or two higher: “‘chapter 32 might be the hottest thing I’ve ever read in a book. It will change your life.’” He peered up at you with an arched brow. “Have you got to chapter 32 yet?”

You were blushing and giggling and trying so hard to not rip the book from his hands and smother his taunting face with one of your many pillows. “Oh my gosh shut up you are terrible!”

He laughed. “You’re the one reading vampire smut!”

“There’s plot!”

Aemond flexed beneath you and the next thing you knew you were on your back beneath him. His long silver-blonde hair was pulled back into a ponytail and it hung over his shoulder threatening to tickle your face. “My pretty girl still hasn’t answered me,” he said as he pinned you down, lowering to nip your earlobe. “Or will I have to use compulsion to get it out of you, hm?”

You felt his grin against your neck, heard it in his question, and before you could stop yourself a little moan escaped your mouth because he bit you. Really bit you. His teeth, clean and sharp, clamped around a mouthful of your neck. He drew it into his mouth, sucking, and–fuck it was hot–you then understood why women in silly vampire books gave in so easily to the predator. You knew your pulse had to be jumping right there in the flesh he held between his teeth. All those giggles from before vanished and were replaced with small gasps. You squeezed your hands over his shirt-covered shoulders, answering, “n-no… I haven’t read that far yet.”

He relaxed his mouth and licked up the same bit of skin he’d been biting, kissing it softly. “Good,” he replied. “You can read it out loud to me now.”

That perked you right up. “Oh my god Aem! No!” 

“But I’m sooo curious to know what happens when she goes inside the castle. I skimmed the last chapter you were on. Something about him loving the smell of her blood, barely able to control himself around her, and she’s stuck there with him now?”

You were laughing again. “You’re such an ass!”

“Those are very important plot points,” he said smoothly, matter-of-factly. “And it’s chapter 31. So all the tension will lead up to the famous chapter 32.” He kissed you as he spoke; your mouth, jaw, neck, collarbone, whatever he could reach.

You were still laughing, but his kisses relaxed you, too. You pushed your hands up beneath the front of his shirt and gently scraped your fingernails over his abdomen. His chest. You felt his muscles quiver slightly beneath your touch. You loved how his body reacted to you. While stroking between the patch of hair at the center of his chest, and the trail of hair below his navel, you asked, sheepishly, “what if I get embarrassed?”

It was his turn to perk up. Pulling back, he looked down at you with a mixture of deviousness and softness that had your heart flipping. “Let’s make a deal.”

“Why am I have scared to hear this deal? But… okay, let’s hear it,” you replied, smiling and biting your lip.

“As long as you keep reading, I’ll keep eating your pussy.”

Yet another wave of heat rushed to your face and along your spine. You really, really hoped Aemond couldn’t see the blush of your features. Knowing him, however, he probably did… or at least saw the spark of desire, excitement, and embarrassment in your eyes. “You really wanna hear me read this stupid book?”

He nodded. “Yeah. And I wanna eat you too. So, why not both?”

“Well, when you put it that way…,” you mumbled in agreement, grabbing your book and opening to where you last left off.

Aemond shuffled triumphantly and smiled one of those smiles that if he did indeed have fangs they’d certainly be showing. He kissed your throat as he pushed the bottom of your shirt up, grazing his fingertips along your belly as he did so, not stopping until the softness of your breasts melted against his palms. Squeezing the sensitive mounds, he gave your neck one last little nip before lowering to your bared tits. He made a noise in his throat at the sight of them–your pretty nipples peaked with need–and he held each in a hand. Looking up at you he asked, "how long do you think you’ll last reading?” He squished your tits together so your nipples were as close together as they could be. Hot mouth wrapped around one and he sucked, greedily drawing it into his mouth. He relished the sensation as well as your gasp of surprise. He relaxed his mouth and let your tit free only to repeat the motion to the other one.

Fuck. He’d barely started, you hadn’t even begun reading, and you already felt warm tension pull in your belly. Your breasts have always been sensitive. Sometimes when you were feeling especially needy, and Aemond especially wicked, he’d suck your tits until you came. Part of you wondered if he meant to do that now with how he lavished them. “Shit–Aem! Not long if you keep this up…!” You moaned, biting your lip again as your eyelids trembled closed. “Haven’t even let me start yet..!”

A laugh rumbled in his chest. “You’re right…,” he said, slowly circling his tongue around and between your nipples. “Go ahead and start reading then, baby. I’ll get nice and comfortable between these thighs.” 

True to his word, he did. Your boyfriend meant to murder you. Without a fucking doubt. Straight up murder.

With a shuddering breath you began to read aloud.

Aemond kissed over your covered pussy, not yet bothering to move your underwear aside or take them off. He wasn’t trying to be especially distracting yet, but he loved knowing you were wet and eager for him. He kissed the insides of your thighs–that impossibly soft dip where your thigh met your pelvis–and even the underswell of your asscheeks as your legs spilled open. He knew right where your clit was. He licked over it through your panties. Teasing. Coaxing. Hoping to hear your voice warble with want.

It did. There was no way you’d be able to keep this up for the rest of the chapter as well as the next chapter. The main female character, a human, had just re-dressed into something suitable for dinner. In this case, a gown that complimented the color of her skin and shape of her body. And the main male character, a vampire, was waiting for her to finish. Before this, the tension had indeed been all over the place. Blood, desire, lust, everything sinful about the undying charisma of vampires. At the end of the chapter she walked downstairs only to make him utterly darken with lust. And, at the end of the chapter, Aemond pulled the front of your panties aside to finally give the full length of your pussy a hot, slow lick. You gasped in time with the main female character’s gasp.

“Think he sinks his teeth into her pretty neck and finally takes what he wants?” Aemond asked, low and somewhat muffled, as he turned his gaze up to your heated face.

You couldn’t believe this was happening. You half thought he was joking about the whole thing! But… then again, you knew Aemond pretty damn well by now and knew he wasn’t the prankster type. You moaned softly at the slow, wonderful feeling of his tongue on your clit. Then, you answered in a shaky breath, “it’s the temptation. He worships her. Or… at least her blood. He won’t tear her apart. He needs her.”

He made one of his classic little ‘mmm’s in thought. “Keep reading, baby. I’m dying to see what happens.” Another lick, another kiss to your most sensitive bud, and a gentle suck. 

Fuck–if he kept this up?! Pleasure rippled up your body in goosebumps and your voice shook as you read into the new chapter.

Somehow the book tension intensified even further. Between that, and how Aemond continued to slowly eat you, your head felt dizzy. Really, honest to God, you didn’t know how much more you could take. Then, the next line started to crumble some of that tension: “The vampire lord kissed the top of the lady’s hand, and when he did his fingers grazed the delicate webbing of veins on the underside of her wrist. Her scent bloomed beneath him. A perfume. His jaw ached with the need to consume. To consume her.”

Aemond picked up pace, too, as did your pulse. He balanced you on the edge of bliss and wouldn’t yet let you go. 

You began to stammer over words. You even left some unfinished. Because now you read a scene that was strikingly similar to your current situation. The vampire had his lady laid back and sprawled on the staircase, her skirts bunched high, his starved tongue feasting between her thighs.

Aemond groaned appreciatively. He worked you higher and higher, selfishly making it harder for you to read out loud, and savored each and every little dip and rise of your voice. His good girl. So fun, and playful, and willing to entertain his silly ideas. God, he loved you. He memorized all the signs of orgasm in your body. He could hear them. Feel them. He knew you were getting close, but he didn’t want you to come yet. There was still more to be read. Right before climax could claim you, he stopped.

“Aemond!” You squealed, near breathless. You looked down at him, accusatory, blissful eyes glaring. “Not fair!”

“Did I forget to mention I’ll only let you come when I want you to? Sorry, love, my bad.”

“How convenient of you,” you retorted.

“Do keep going though? I have a feeling he’ll need a taste of her blood now that he’s tasted her cunt.”

Begrudgingly, you did. And, as luck would have it… (did he read ahead while you were in the shower!?): “The vampire lord’s cock strained in his breeches, throbbing with a pulsing need that sent his mind to delirium. He never craved anything so badly as he did her.”

Aemond made more of those ‘mmm’s in agreement as he started to slowly work you up again. He pressed his tongue into you and let his nose rub against your clit. His hands rubbed and squeezed over any part of your body he could. Waist, belly, hips, thighs, anything; he loved all of it. He could lay here and do this all fucking night–vampire smut or no.

It became harder and harder to keep reading. Between little moans, whimpers, and firm bites to your lip, you kept trying. By now, the chapter progressed to both of them in various stages of undress on the staircase. “The vampire lord claimed her body with his hot, rigid manhood. At the same time he filled her with his cock, he sunk his teeth into her neck.”

After that you were no longer able to make words. A finger replaced Aemond’s tongue as his mouth lavished your clit. You dropped the book and neither of you seemed to care anymore. One of your hands gripped into his hair–more than likely making the sleek pull back of his ponytail a mess–while your other hand played with your breasts. Seemingly effortlessly, a second finger joined the first and your hips rolled in a desperate need for more. “A-ah yes!”

A soft dark laugh rumbled from him as he watched you from below. “You’re so fucking wet your pussy just sucked my finger in. I barely had to move it. Getting close again, my love?” He asked as those two deft, long fingers worked your inner walls with blinding precision. “I love how you were blushing and fumbling with your words when you read. Fuck–you’re so pretty with my fingers in you.”

A familiar tightness began to build in your legs. The inside of your thighs started to tremble. Your head, fuzzy as it already was, buzzed with your body’s anticipation. Pleasure. So much pleasure. Your fingers tweaked your nipples for that extra little push, and apparently that’s exactly what you needed.

Aemond’s tongue was on your clit again, quick and light compared to the harsh way he fingerfucked you. This time he didn’t edge you along.

Orgasm, beautiful and consuming, swallowed you into a starless dark. When you came back to yourself your head was heavy. The tips of your fingers tingled. Everything felt light. Like you weren’t quite inside your own body yet. “What the fuck Aems…,” you whispered, smiling like a dork.

That was one of the best orgasms and he fucking knew it. He had to know it. 

He carefully rolled away from you to let you catch your breath. “Better than the book?”

“Without question.”

He grinned as he watched you regain yourself. Once he was sure you were okay he pulled you on top of his naked form. When did he take his clothes off? “Always so sweet to me,” he said with that same grin. “I can still taste you on my tongue and need to feel you on my cock. Now.”

You didn't need to be told twice. Your body was ready for him as soon as he moved you atop him. He looked so good, so handsome, so devastatingly perfect as he sat there against your headboard, your bodies meshing together so well. His lean arms wrapped around you, nails scratching down your back, as you lined up with him.

The stretch was unfuckingbelievable. 

Moaning in unison, he rolled his hips up into you with one hand gripped on your waist. Your breasts squished against the firm planes of his. Your scent, your skin, your lust all around him. The squeeze of your cunt around his entire length had him half crazy. There wouldn't be any more teasing. 

You ground onto him, desperate to fuck him as silly as he had fingered you. 

One of his hands gripped the hair at the back of your head and tugged downwards, exposing the fullness of your throat to him. Your neck. He bit you again–all but sinking his teeth into your flesh–and fucked up into you with added fervor. 

“God!” You squeaked, whimpering through your surprise. “Yes, yes, yes, keep biting me..!” You pleaded, bouncing on him in time with his upward rolls.

That's how you both stayed–his teeth on your neck, your fingernails leaving pink scratches on his pale skin, grinding and fucking each other with raw desire–until climax washed over both of you.

You were both panting, a little sweaty, and intoxicated by each other.

A couple minutes later, amidst pillow talk and teasing one another, Aemond asked, “would you read more to me another time?”

You looked at him cheekily. “Seriously?”

“Yes. I’m very interested in the plot,” he said with obvious innuendo. “And I don’t think you quite understand what you saying words like ‘cock’ ‘cunt’ and ‘blood sucking’ does to me.”

That sent you into another fit of giggles. “You’re insane!”

He rolled on top of you and smirked down at you. “Well?” He asked, grazing the tip of his nose against yours.

“Okay, okay. Yeah, I will.”

Pulling the blankets up around your bodies, you turned on the movie you mentioned earlier. Aemond laid on his back and scooped you against him, legs immediately intertwining with one another. Sated. Happy; even as your skin pleasantly burned where he left dark hickies behind.

“Thanks for that. It was a lot of fun,” he whispered against the crown of your head.

“Yeah it was,” you agreed. “I love you, Aem.”

“I love you too.”

-

Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed, please consider a follow, and/or reblog, and/or letting me know as it all makes me vvvery happy! ♥

Masterlist

See comment section for my main taglist and Aemond taglist! To be added or removed from either, please hit me up!

[feyhunter78]

Tourney Injuries and a Proposal

Description: While you and Helaena are watching the tourney, your former betrothed injures Aemond.

You sit beside Helaena watching as the knights galloped at each other, their lances shattering each other’s shields, one knocking the other from his horse.

“I just don’t understand the appeal of these things.” You said, grimacing as an agonized scream rang out from below.

“I believe the displays of strength are considered quite attractive.” Helaena said, her eyes searching the men standing on the sidelines. “Oh, there’s Aemond, in the black armor.”

You stood and rushed to the railing as he stepped into the ring, burying your hands in your skirts, your heart pounding against your chest like dragon wings in a storm.

He noticed you and made his way over, confidence in every step that brought him closer to you. “Fair Lady y/n, might I request your favor?” He called up to you, a playful smirk on his lips.

You threw your handkerchief down to him, and he caught it, pressing it to his lips before tucking it in his pocket

“Good luck, my prince.” You said, eyes filled with fear.

Aemond never entered tourneys, claimed they were a worthless waste of time, but after your former betrothed, a young lord from House Tully had insulted you, Aemond suddenly found them worth his time.

He patted his pocket. “I don’t need luck, when I have the favor of the most beautiful maiden in all the realm to protect me.”

You ducked your head, feeling heat rise to your cheeks. “I’m honored by your words, Prince Aemond.”

He reentered the ring, and you returned to your seat.

“It seems that Aemond is going against Lord Tybalt.” Helaena said, a tinge of worry in her lilting voice.

You grabbed her hand, stomach churning. “No. This will not end well.”

Tybalt was your former betrothed, a strong man, he had a nasty temper, and no fear of striking those who angered him.

Aemond himself had saved you from Tybalt’s anger when the Tully lord had caught you both in what looked to be a compromising position, but really was a misunderstanding.

You’d been sitting under the Godswood with Aemond when a spider dropped from the tree and made its way beneath your gown’s neckline.

In your panic, you shrieked at Aemond to get rid of it, and he sliced open your bodice with his dagger, plucking the spider and flicking it away from you.

Tybalt walked in on Aemond’s hand gripping the shredded fabric of your bodice, his other hand on your waist as he tried to calm you.

You watched with bated breath as the two men circled each other. Tybalt was snarling something at Aemond and your grip on Helaena’s hand tightened when he lunged.

Aemond easily dodged his blade before returning the blow.

They went back and forth, and once it seemed Aemond was to win, you relaxed, taking your eyes away from the match.

Gasping and a frightened scream made you whip your head back to the duel.

Tyblat collapsed Aemond’s sword through his abdomen, but Aemond was kneeling in the sand, his hands covering his face.

“Y/n, wait.” Helaena yelled, as you bolted out of your seat and down the stairs.

The maesters were already ushering Aemond to their tent, and you followed behind them, fear gripping your lungs.

You pushed aside the fabric to see Aemond surrounded by maesters. “Aemond—”

“Out, everyone out.” He ordered, pushing the maseters away from him with his free hand.

They scurried out, but you stayed put.

“Someone remove Lady y/n.” He shouted, turning his face from you.

You elbowed the maester who tried to grab you and rushed up to Aemond cupping his face. “Aemond, are you hurt? Let me see.”

He tried to shake you off, but you stood your ground.

Aemond removed his hand slowly, and you sucked in a breath.

“I’m hideous, I’m aware.” He growled.

You picked up a clean cloth and dipped it in the nearby bowl of water, gently bringing it to his face. “Hideous? My prince, you are more beautiful than the sun setting over the Narrow Sea.”

He looked at you warily, but allowed you to dab at the cut on his face. “It’s not very deep, does it hurt?” You asked, quietly apologizing when he hissed in pain. “I feel responsible, I should have tried harder to explain the situation to Tybalt, but…”

“But?” He echoed, his hand resting on your hip.

You wrung the cloth out before re-wetting it. “I have no real answer for him that would quell his anger. I can’t lie, and say I'm not fond of you, or that I didn’t wish that perhaps your gaze could have fallen upon my skin in a more intimate setting.” You admitted, not meeting his eye.

“He was the fool who tried to take out my eye, not you. You were merely the victim of a spider.” He chuckled. “Besides, his aim was terrible, he got the wrong eye.”

“Well, I’m glad it is, I don’t know what I’d do if you were injured because of me.” You said softly, focused on your task.

His hand caught your wrist. “Y/n.”

“I’m sorry, did I hurt you?” You asked worriedly, dropping the cloth back in the water.

He shook his head and his hand slid behind your neck, pulling you closer. His lips brushed against yours, his violet eye flickering up to yours.

You rested your hand on his chest and leaned forward, pressing your lips to his.

His free hand grasped your waist as he spread his legs, pulling you flush against him. “Marry me.” He breathed against your lips, his thumb caressing the nape of your neck.

“Truly?” You asked, praying to The Seven, this wasn't a cruel jest.

He nodded, sapphire glinting in the low light. “Allow me to make your wish come true.”  He connected your lips in a heated kiss, lips pulling you under, the taste of peppermint and mead intoxicating your sense, his scent of leather, and dragon surrounding you.

 His grip on you tightened as you returned the kiss eagerly, your fingers gripping his tunic, as you let out a small whimper.

“Yes, I’ll marry you.” You smiled into the kiss and giggled when he stood and swept you off your feet.

He kissed you once more, leaving you breathless and dizzy with joy as he carried you out of the tent and towards the stands where his mother sat.

Tag list: @nyctophilic0vitnir, @svtansdaddyx, @fan-goddess, @dc-marvel-girl96

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[justanoasisimagines]

Riding Vhagar with Aemond Targaryen

Hey lovelies, back with another headcanon. If anyone has any Headcanon, blurb or drabbles for any of the House of the Dragon men apart from Daemon let me know! You can find my request guidlines pinned to the top of the page! Credit to cafekitsune for the banner and the divider!

❀When Aemond suggests you accompany him on Vhagar you freeze. Does he jest? Surely he cannot be serious.

❀Except he is. Aemond tells you he wants you to feel the experience of what it is to ride on a dragon's back high above the clouds. Aemond wants you to feel as powerful as he feels whenever he's on Vhagar.

❀Yet you're still hesitant. You know of Vhagar's legacy, her ruthlessness in battle. The largest dragon in the world. Anyone would be a fool not to fear Vhagar.

❀Aemond can see the fear within your eyes. How your whole body has tensed up. he's quick to remind you, that Vhagar is an extension of himself. She trusts who he trusts. His enemies are her enemies.

❀Aemond would never introduce someone to Vhagar let alone allow them to ride her with him if he didn't believe they were worthy.

❀After some convincing you agree to go on a flight. Aemond is thrilled. He cannot wait for you to feel as free as a bird. The thrill you get from feeling the wind through your hair.

❀However, first introductions have to be made. Aemond is very calm in his approach as he introduces you to Vhagar in high Valayarian. He takes hold of your hand as he presses it to her scales. Allowing you to feel the texture of a dragon for the first time.

❀Aemond gives you a moment or two before teaching you how to hoist yourself up onto a dragon as large as Vhagar. You always see Aemond do it with such ease and grace

❀Aemond sits behind you, one hand wrapped around your waist the other holding onto the reins. He holds you tightly against him as he straps you in so there is no chance of you falling. ❀He has prepared an extra harness for you so he can keep you safe. He also hopes this will be more than a one-time thing. ❀As Vhagar goes into the sky. There's a rush of adrenaline as the city beneath you suddenly becomes smaller and smaller.

❀Aemond gives you time to be accustomed to what it feels like to be on Vhagar's back. Before he orders her to dive to catch you off guard. Aemond laughs as you scream.

❀Aemond whispering encouraging words into your ear as you two fly.

❀When you land, Aemond is proud of how well you have done. He's thrilled when you ask when you two can fly again.

[valaenatargaryensdragon]

Hi, you can write where the reader is Aemond's older sister and he has been obsessed with her since he was little. Now that he has grown up he is full of malicious intentions, but the reader does not understand why he always pretends to be sweet and innocent in front of her

A/N: I hope you like it!

pairing: Dark!Aemond x Sister!reader

summary: Aemond's older sister and he has been obsessed with her since he was little. Now that he has grown up he is full of malicious intentions, but the reader does not understand why he always pretends to be sweet and innocent in front of her

Word count: 1,5K

Warnings: Angst, fluff

Masterlist 1

Masterlist 2

You were only seven when Aemond was born, naturally you were curious like when your other siblings were born. Rhaenyra took you to see him when you asked her about him. She looked indifferent when she met him, she never cared for your siblings that were from Alicent, you were different though you were the daughter of Aemma and she loved you dearly.

When you saw the little baby in the cot wiggling about you were immediately enchanted to be honest. You liked how quiet he was unlike Aegon who cried a lot or Helaena who seemed to zone out even as a babe. You reached in to grab his small hand and he latched on to it refusing to let it go for several minutes much to your amusement. That day Rhaenyra sat you down and had a talk with you, begging you not to grow attached to any of Alicent's children.

You were eight when Aemond took his first footsteps, you were playing with him much to the displeasure of your sister. The Queen was watching you like a hawk as you waved around a wooden wolf. Aemond reached over to your hands which you gave him and pulled himself up to stand, something he has been able to do for a while but then what surprised you was when he attempted to take a step closer. In less than ten minutes you were walking around the chamber holding both his hands to guide him as he walked. You laughed overjoyed while the Queen smiled gently trying to calm down Helaena who was crying a little. You ran to your father and sister proudly telling them that you had taught Aemond how to walk. Your father chuckled patting your head and moved on, not really caring for any of his children other than Rhaenyra, his heir. Your sister scolded you reminding you that you should not go near Alicent's children.

Your name was Aemond's third or fourth word behind mama and dada and some more words. Ever since he could pronounce your name he had not stopped calling it. Whenever you were gone he would scream it on the top of his lungs demanding your presence. Even the King once complained hearing Aemond crying your name and called for you to come and clam his third born.

Aemond was fuming when Daeron was born. He hated watching you giggled at the baby, playing with tiny fingers and toes. For once even as a child he agreed with Rhaenyra that you should not be near Daeron, you were his uēpkta mandia (older sister). He would cross his arms and frown as he watched you tickle Daeron.

You were ten and two when Aemond had hit Daeron in front of you out of jealousy. He was merely five and Daeron three when Aemon chucked a pillow at Daeron who was hogging all your attention from him. Alicent insisted that you no longer play with Daeron in favour of Aemond, she was scared for her fourth born to actually perish at the hands of her third born.

You were ten and seven when the worst possible scenario happened, Aemond lost his eye to the hands of Lucaerys Valeryon, your nephew. That was when the rivalry between Rhaenyra and Alicent went up to another level, it was marked by blood now. You did not know whose side to take, you just stood by the door watching with teary eyes. Your uncle Daemon was stood by your side, watching in amusement.

Aemond seeked your warmth instead of his mother's. He got up from his chair and walked over to you, hugging you around the waist and leaning his head on your chest. You hugged him close and let one of your hands run through his locks that he shared with you, trying to comfort him.

Rhaenyra literally screamed at you. accusing you that you chose Aemond's side over her son's. You screamed back that you were comforting a child that lost half his sight, whether he was right or wrong he did not deserve it, he did not deserve to lose an eye over the words his mother put into his head, it was Alicent who should be punished not Aemond. A drift began forming between you and Rhaenyra that day.

You were twenty and three when you noticed the change in Aemond. The way he would stick by your side, demand you come and watch him train in the yard. How he would challenge your suitors to a duel which would always end with them injured and running away from you. He never once failed to mention your dragon in front of them if they were strong willed and stayed after the duel, how she was overprotective of you, how she once ate three men when they tried attacking you. That would usually do the trick.

Until Terren Hightower, Aemond's mother's cousin appeared. He was not scared of dragons having been around Daeron's dragon for a while, ever since he moved there. No matter what Aemond did he never left you alone, he duelled with Aemond happily more than once defeating him or the match would end in a draw.

He listened happily to the stories of your dragon, laughing at the mention of three men that your dragon ate, simply saying " They were idiot to ever think they could hurt a dragon, dragons exist to be respected and feared, not as enemies".

Then you noticed the small trap appearing here and there, you tripping in your gown and twisting your ankle and unable to go to the gardens for your daily walks with Terren. Aemond instead showed up to your room and comforted you. You did not say anything at all.

Then came the incident where Terren fell off his horse and broke one of his legs. You went to visit him, worrying over his health. You were not in love with Terren but you liked him, he was decent enough. Aemond did not like that and pulled you out of the room with a scowl.

"What is wrong, baby brother?" You teased, pulling your arm out of his hold and pausing in the middle of the corridor.

"Walk" He hissed, he wanted you as far away from Terren as possible.

"Are you jealous that I am giving him attention? Is it like when you were five and Daeron three all over again? Will you throw a toy in his face too?" You asked. You crossed you arms and leaned back against the wall with a smirk. He clenched and unclenched his fists several times by his side, his one remaining eye twitching with anger. He was trying to hold himself back, not show his crazed side of himself, he did not want you to view him any less. You deserved more.

"Sweet sister, cousin Terren merely needs to rest, I wanted him to heal as fast possible, nothing more" He answered. A fake smile slowly grew on his face, he was failing miserably to show how unaffected he was.

"Is that so?" You asked, tilting your head to the side. He nodded his head slowly.

"I fear I do not believe you" You shook your head. You grabbed the front of his coat and pulled him closer to you. His breath got caught in his throat at the close proximity you found yourselves in.

"Mandia" Sister. Aemond warned, still trying to remain as innocent as possible in your eyes. You had to tilt your head up to be able to look at him. He was taller, and bulkier, nowhere near Daemon or even Aegon but he was still bigger than you.

"What is it little brother?" You whispered the question. One of your hands trailed up his chest and trickled up his neck to grab the hair behind his head.

"I should walk you to your rooms" He cleared his throat, forcing himself out of your hold. He turned and began walking down the corridor, a plan forming in his head to get rid of Terren as fast possible.

"Terren should heal soon, maybe then he can finally ask father for my hand" You said as you reached your room not far from Terren, now noticed Aemond.

"What?" Aemond's head snapped in your direction, confused and blood boiling with anger. You were his older sister, the one that stood by his side this entire time, the one who actually cared and he would be damned to let you go.

"He asked for my hand and is awaiting my answer, I think I will accept" You grinned watching the light in Aemond's eye disappear and a feral kind of look took its place.

"Is that so?" He stepped closer to you. Before you could say anything he had opened the door to your room and pushed you inside and followed after you, making sure to lock the door behind him. You finally snapped him and you were more than glad you did.