#aemond x targaryen!reader

[rosenyras]

The Night of Feud and Desire

Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon ( Strong ) Female Reader

Summary: After Aemond stirs up the Dragon’s Dinner with his taunts, you go and search for him to give him a piece of your mind. However, the night ends very differently than you had planned.

Warnings: Nsfw, typical Targaryen inc*st, language, slight violence, slight choking, Aemond is rough, overstimulation

Notes: I used a Valyrian translator so apologies if it’s not correct!

To be truthful, you were just about done with every one of your family members.

Your brothers - more so Lucerys - despite being your bestest of friends had never irked you more so than tonight. You had wanted so badly for this dinner to go smoothly, especially after the heartfelt speeches both Alicent and your mother spoke towards the other. But the men in the family clearly had other plans.

By the time you had seen Lucerys’ teasing smirk towards Aemond, your foot kicking into his leg to abruptly stop him came too late and the long haired blonde had already embarked on his disguised digs towards Rhaenyra’s children. His part towards you, however, was slightly different - if not a bit basic - even though the obvious reference to Harwin Strong applied to you as well.

“To my beautiful niece, Y/N, I hope the days ahead of you treat you with kindness. And to my nephews …” And the night fell in sure swiftness after the rest of his words were alight in the air.

When the boys began their scuffle, you had originally wanted to intervene more so to get Aegon’s hands off your little brother. Though he was a nuisance, you were quite protective of him. However, a hand on your arm and a warning look belonging to your great uncle, Daemon, refrained you from doing so.

After all of you were dismissed to your separate bed chambers, only an hour had passed before you decided to leave. You did not blame Aemond for the retaliation in his own right, but the constant digs that he threw you and your brothers about being bastards over the last couple of years had rooted itself in your gut and would not ease unless you confronted him about it.

Aemond and your brothers war of words were one thing, to be entirely truthful you did not forget how Aemond was often tormented as a child, but most of that was derived from Aegon, and he did not show that same aggression towards his brother. And to you - you did not understand it.

You and Aemond were so very close as children, being outsiders in your own right - you, a girl amongst brothers and him, a dragonless child that was often picked on. You defended him from Aegon, and your brothers knew when to quiet so not to face your wrath. You also allowed Aemond to be close to your dragon, Rhyxia, so he could at least satisfy his yearning for a dragon.

In turn, he taught you the way of a sword - in secret of course. You were not allowed to join public practice due to the sole reason of your gender, so he would use whatever he learned in lessons to teach you how to defend yourself. The two of you had an undisclosed agreement of sorts, yet you had never been happier than when you were together.

And then, the distance grew when your mother announced your family would inhabit Dragonstone. Once the year passed and you and Aemond were reunited once more by way of Laena Velaryon’s funeral, it was as if no time had passed at all. Until your brothers and cousins engaged in a fight that took his eye.

You were not there during the attack, but you knew when you heard of the word he had chose to spit in the face of Luke and Jace - and by extension, you - your childhood bonding would be forever fractured. And as he stood with his mother and you yours, you never imagined yourself alone with Aemond again. Until now.

As you shut your door, you were instantly met with your assigned guard. He was a lovely young man, but as your eyes lay on him irritation grew within your bones. “Princess Y/N, where are you headed at such a late hour?”

Biting your lip, you deigned him a response that would indeed be unsatisfactory. “Ser Rolland, I just wish to go for a stroll alone, if you’ll excuse me…”

As you made to take a step, he placed a hand in front of you. “Your mother instructed I stay with you, I’m sorry, my lady.”

You loved your mother dearly, but right now you had to refrain from rolling your eyes at her overprotectiveness.

“Well, we best get a move on then, Ser Rolland.”

As you strolled the hallways, the sound of moving armour dawned each of your steps. It soon became clear to you in your want to keep the secrecy on where you were headed would be of no use, and besides, you couldn’t exactly remember where Aemond’s quarters were now, especially if his rooms had changed.

Turning to your guard, you placed a small smile upon your lips. “If you may, Ser, could you please escort me to Prince Aemond’s chambers?”

A single blink was all you received in terms of facial expression as your guard responded. “Of course, my lady.”

As he took charge, you followed Ser Rolland for quite a distance until he stopped outside a door that held a guard posted outside. So Aemond had changed his rooms. Interesting.

As you approached the door, you decided a knock would be more pleasant than simply barging in on your uncle, no matter how much you wished to do so. If he were to be indecent and you stumbled upon him with no clothes … you shook your head to get rid of those thoughts as your face warmed with embarrassment.

A faint call of ‘Enter’ was your only preparation before you opened and stepped inside Aemond’s room.

You noticed him immediately, sitting in front of a fireplace, his back towards you. You could only see the slightest hint of his face, his eyepatch calling to you as if serving you of a memory you would much rather forget.

“How may I help you, niece?”

His voice spoke louder than the crackling embers dancing in front of him. You clasped your hands behind your back, deigning your voice to remain as steady as possible. “How come you know it is me, uncle?”

Aemond’s head turned towards you in the slightest move that he might not have even moved at all. “Only you knock in such a pattern, Y/N. I have not forgotten.”

You couldn’t help but scoff slightly. “Yet it seems you have forgotten what I once was to you. Are you often in the company of remembering the knock patterns of bastards?”

Silence fell, the tension so heavy that you could easily slice it. And just as suddenly, Aemond stood, as if he couldn’t help but remind you that he towered over you even from afar. As he spoke, he crept closer and closer towards you - as if a magnetic pull was driving the two of you closer.

“You know those insults irk your brothers more so than you, it is why I speak them. Did you not say as a child you had no care for who your father was and by extension that word had no effect over you?”

Well. Damn.

To be truthful you did not expect him to remember such a throwaway comment and in such detail, perhaps you should know better than to underestimate Aemond Targaryen.

“You are right, but perhaps my expectations that you would have forgotten about this childhood melodrama were foolish-”

Not a second passed after those words left your mouth that Aemond had grabbed hold of your waist and pushed you up against the closest wall. Your back thudded with the impact, more so shock from not expecting such a move.

It was a low blow, of course it was, but you had not forgotten that Aemond had not even looked at you the night his eye was taken, as if acknowledging your presence was beneath him from that point forward.

Aemond placed a hand next to your head, caging you in with both his body and his glare. “Your brother took my eye and I swear, I will take revenge for that. You should be content that I did not do more tonight.”

Your eyes briefly flicked down to his lips but you forced yourself to keep eye contact with him, not allowing yourself to flinch away. Instead of replying in English, you flicked your tongue to Valyrian. “Ao would ōdrikagon nyke, Aemond?” You would hurt me, Aemond?

Aemond slightly tilted his head downwards before raising his eyes towards yours. “Daor ao, aōha brothers.” Not you, your brothers.

“Naejot ōdrikagon ñuha brothers iksis naejot ōdrikagon nyke.” To hurt my brothers is to hurt me.

Aemond immediately drew himself closer, his breath mingling with yours as he lifted his right hand up to your throat, to do what, you did not know.

All you replied with was a small whisper. “Kostilus, Aemond.” Please, Aemond.

And that seemed to break him.

Closing the short distance between your lips, Aemond crashed his mouth upon yours, not caring about the smashing of teeth - almost like he was desiring the slight pain. His left hand remain caged against your head while his right enclosed around your throat with the slightest pressure as if it was in every inch of his desire to control you.

A slight whimper escaped you, the heat of anger and wanting building up inside you as you tried your best to convey that within the kiss. Once your mouth departed with that slight noise, Aemond didn’t miss a chance before slipping his tongue inside your mouth, your tongues not so much as dancing but instead his just completely dominating yours.

You lifted your hand against his cheek, the rough leather on the straps of his eyes patch rubbing against your skin. And as suddenly as you had placed it there, Aemond used the hand that was against your head to grab both of yours, lifting your arms up and holding them against the wall.

The sudden impact caused you to gasp, moving your hips subconsciously forward, instantly feeling the effect you were having on Aemond with his hardness stretching tight against his pants. In return, Aemond let the slightest of sighs slip between his lips as he moved his mouth towards your neck, tugging on your earlobe and using his tongue to run its way up and down your skin.

“I’ve wanted you since we were young, Y/N. My heart has always belonged to you.” His right hand moved from your neck to cup your cheek. “Ziry va moriot kessa.” It always will.

“Aemond, I-” before you had a chance to finish your sentence, Aemond took ahold of your arms and dragged you towards his bed, placing you on it before making his way on top of you so the two of you were eye to eye.

“I need to hear you say it, Y/N, that you want this.”

“I do,” you breathed, your words no more than whispers. “I want you, Aemond.”

Giving you one final look, Aemond began moving his way down your body until he was face to face with your clothed lower half. Your dress for the night had been one that was easy to slip on and so you had no other expectations as Aemond quickly slipped it off and with it your undergarments. As you lay completely naked, your nipples hardening with the fresh air, Aemond’s eyes rove over every inch of your body, as if you were a meal he wished to take his time with.

As he lifted his hands towards your thighs, separating them to get a good view of your cunt, slight whines escaped your mouth with the need to be touched. Aemond’s fingers circled around your inner thighs, drawing closer and closer with such a teasing touch.

“Seven hells, Aemond, please just-”

Your whine was soon cut off with his lips upon yours and with it, his fingers finally found your cunt. Considering how wet you were, it took you by no surprise as he easily found his way to your clit, circling it with such ease that you nearly exploded right then and there. His mouth managed to silence most of your moans, but they soon were unleashed as Aemond moved to one of your nipples and began licking and softly biting at it.

It was soon after that he slipped a finger inside your entrance, moving with such efficiency that an added second wasn’t far behind. He soon moved to your other nipple, continuing the same movements. It was after he fitted a third finger inside did he speak.

“Jaelan naejot rȳbagon skorkydoso olvie ao jorrāelagon nyke, isse Valyrīha.” I want to hear how much you need me, in Valyrian.

You whined in defiance slightly, but you were too far gone to refuse altogether.

“Ao gīmigon skorkydoso olvie nyke desire ao, Aemond. Emā va moriot known ziry. Just, please-” You know how much I desire you, Aemond. You’ve always known.

Suddenly, Aemond removed his fingers from you, making you annoyed with displeasure. His raised his hands to his lips, tasting you while remaining eye contact. Having enough of being the only presence in the room without clothes, you quickly tore at his leathers to get rid of them. You just wanted to be close to him.

Once he was rid of his clothes, he hooked your leg around his body, lowering you on the bed as he hovered over you, the two of you simply staring at each other was enough to make you content in the moment. As you lifted your hand to his face, you spoke in a hushed tone. “Take me, Aemond. Make me yours.”

And that he did. Aemond placed a singular kiss on your lips as he directed his cock towards your entrance, pushing in as he rested his forehead on yours. His hand that wasn’t fisted in the sheets beside your head made its way to your clit, circling it to relieve some of the pain.

Your breaths were getting louder by the minute, slowly turning into moans as Aemond moved back and forwards, easing into you more with each thrust. As you wrapped your hands around his shoulders, pulling him even more closer to you - if that was possible - you breathed out, “Aemond… please.”

Taking that as a sign to go faster, he began moving with more urgency with every thrust. It was as if he was conveying how much passion he had for you with how direct he was with snapping his hips against yours. As the seconds pass and your moans became louder and louder, both of your release on the edge, you couldn’t help but slip out, “I love you.”

Aemond’s head was buried in the crook of your neck, his hitched breaths and slight sighs abruptly stopped, but his hips sure didn’t. Aemond began thrusting with sudden urgency, the bed creaking against the wall. The hand that was gripping your thigh began pressing harder, something that was surely going to leave bruises the next morning.

Your release crept up without warning, exploding with such urgency that you couldn’t help but yelp. Aemond, however, didn’t let up on his pace. At first you thought he was helping you ride out your orgasm, but then it became clear he had no intention of stopping. “Aemond-“

“Did you mean it?” His hips slowed to a steady pace as he raised his head to look you in the eye, his only sign of pleasure was his hitched breaths. You instantly knew what he meant and you didn’t even try to deny it during the midst of such pleasure.

“Yes, fuck, yes I meant it.” Your nails began raking down his back as you couldn’t help but chase after another orgasm. Aemond didn’t waste a second before fastening his pace, wanting you to reach the height of your pleasure before he came.

“Fuck, Aemond!” You would feel sorry for every pair of ears in close proximity to you, but right now the only focus was your second orgasm rippling through every part of your body. You soon felt Aemond cum inside you, his only hint of outward pleasure was a low grunt escaping his lips.

Still inside you, Aemond once again placed his forehead upon yours, placing his lips on yours with such contrasted gentleness to the pace of his hips moments before. He made sure to look you in the eyes before speaking.

“It is true for me too, I love you with every inch of my being, Y/N.”

[lcverwrites]

aemond targaryen x targaryen!reader (daemon's daughter) drabble

note: am I playing into the over popular trope of making reader daemon's daughter: yes, I am. am I sorry about it: no I am not.

"No one could love a cripple" Aemond sulked, placing his hands below his chest, feeling the subtle rise and fall of each breath he took.

His alabaster skin was still tickled pink with splatters of blood, the thick oozing had subsided after the Maester had stitched the clean slice across his flawless skin. The stitching zig-zagged across his skin, protruding in places and sinking in others. The dark black thread starkly standing out against the pale hue of his skin. Starting from his temple, coursing down the right side of his face, right over his once violet eye, down to the middle of his cheek.

Right over his once violet eye.

It wasn't something to gloss over, Lucerys had slashed Aemond right across his eye, taking the damn eye with it. There was nothing left behind to salvage, so the Maester had said, he was lucky the blade did not go any deeper.

She shuddered at the thought, loosing an eye was a terrible misfortune, but she would be forever grateful that Aemond was strong enough to survive it.

"I won't listen to you speak so terribly about yourself" She retorted, seating herself on the edge of Aemond's bed, placing her hands gently in her lap.

"'Tis nothing but the truth" Aemond hummed lowly, his single eye stared blankly at the ceiling.

Whatever thoughts that carried their way through his mind, she was not privy to them. She bit her tongue, fighting the urge to reach out and touch him, her Aemond.

The boy she knew, the one who lurked beneath the scared surface, who hid behind his brooding and melancholy thoughts, the boy who couldn't keep a single thought from her, the one person in the world who was nothing but truthful with her.

But now, it was as if she were talking with a stranger. Someone she no longer knew, he was guarded in a way that was strange to her, she wasn't able to see past the solid walls he was starting to build.

"No, it is not true, I won't let you believe that is the truth" She was firm in her words, no stuttering to be found, though she felt as if her heart was about to leap from her chest, nervousness tickling her skin.

"How can you prove something that is so plainly shown" Aemond's voice lowered, sounding as if he was on the verge of bursting into tears, but holding himself back from further humilation.

There was nothing to be ashamed of, not with her.

"You forget yourself, my prince" She replied simply.

"There isn't a woman in the seven kingdoms who would take a second glance at a boy with a scar as hideous as mine own" Aemond finally looked at her.

Her breath caught in the back of her throat, stilling her heart for a mere moment. For the first time since the prince had returned to King's Landing, he showered her with his unbridled emotions. There were so many things swirling around in those violet hues, so many emotions.

She could hear the bitterness pouring from his words, sticking to every syllable that passed his lips. She could see the hatred shading his eyes, stormy and crackling. Like lighting striking the earth beneath her feet, like embers of a flame licking at her skin, it was a searing sort of hatred.

But there was fear, a coldness lingering in the deep hue of his eye, like he was fighting off the sharp, howling winter winds from the North. A frigidness in the way his shoulders sat, straighter, almost vexing, preparing for the foulness he was handed by those whom were supposed to care.

"You lay claim to the largest dragon in all history" She reasoned gently, her stare never faulting from his gaze, despite the intensity of it. "Vhagar wouldn't allow anyone to claim her, less they be anything but extraordinary"

She wanted him to know, she wasn't afraid of his maimed appearance.

"Means nothing" Aemond denied, clenching his hands in tight fists.

"I hardly believe that Aemond" It was her turn to scoff. "You are the son of the King, Prince Aemond, first of his name--"

"And what!" Aemond exclaimed, sounding angry, finally letting something slip past the sturdy walls. "I'm supposed to be okay with my future lady wife only loving me for riding the largest dragon, or for being the son of the king"

"Perhaps, my prince, you should allow me to finish" She didn't allow his raised voice scare her, she straightened her back, looking at the prince with a fierceness that faltered him. + "I mean, those things are only a fraction who you are, you are wise beyond your years, far better with a sword than most of the knights in King's landing, and you are a mere boy, imagine what you shall be like, a man of extraordinary talents, you shouldn't allow a silly little scar--

"'Silly little scar' you think this deformity is merely a simple little scar?!" Aemond cut off the Princess against, sounding aghast at the thought of his wound being compared to a silly little scar.

"Lest you forget my Prince, I am still a Princess, I'd take back the tone of your words"

She wasn't going to let Aemond walk all over her, just because his melancholy thoughts were eating him alive, didn't mean he had the right to treat those who care for him, as if they were dirt beneath his boots.

He was welcome to be upset about the wound, she'd find him odd if he didn't grieve the loss of his own eye, but he was allowing his grief and anger over take him.

Blinding him to what he may become.

"This scar has taken my eye from me, and any chance of living anywhere close to the realm of normalcy" Aemond disregarded her praise, turning his gaze from her face to the tight fists his hands had knowingly formed.

"We Targaryen's are beyond the realm of normalcy" The Princess denied once more, tilting her head a fraction, as she watched a subtle pink hue painted Aemond's pale skin. "We are gods among men, lest you forget"

"No god has a scar like this" Aemond sounded defeated now, tired, depleted of energy to try and fight back.

"Only those blessed by the old gods and the new" She felt herself smile a little as she watched Aemond's eyes slowly trail along the length of his bed, finding her still perched on the edge of the bed. "Those they deme worthy, survive with a mere scar to prove their strength"

Aemond remained silent at her words, but the icy glare had subdued in his violet eyes, gaining a millimetre of warmth.

For a moment, she could see her Aemond, slipping past the façade he was creating.

"There are still people in this very castle, whom love you, scar and all" She replied easily, knowing it to be true.

"My family are the least of my worries" Aemond brushed off with a simple shake of his head, wincing a little as the action tugged at the puckered skin of his face. "They are stuck with me"

"Perhaps" The Princess' voice carried a gentle tone, sounding just above a whisper.

She reached a soft hand to grasp Aemond's closed fist, making the prince jump, breath catching in the back of his throat. She made no moves to remove her hands from his, keeping a barely there touch on his hands.

"I however" She paused her words, and for the first time, she had trouble keeping her gazed locked on Aemond's, feeling heat pinching at her cheeks. "Can choose where I shall reside, and there is no place I would rather be, than by your side"

"Please don't grant pity on me" Aemond whispered, looking deep within her violet eyes, trying to find an inkling of deceit, only to come up empty handed, and feeling his heart fluttering wildly in his chest.

"Never pity, not with you, my Aemond" Her smile was warm, like the feeling of being welcomed home, of the warm summer sun tickling his skin, of being loved wholeheartedly without restraint.

She pressed her palm firmly against his fist, opening the tight hold he had. His resolve melted like butter beneath her palm, hand falling open without fight, without complaint, willing and able. Just hearing her call him, her Aemond, there was not a more thrilling feeling.

"My heart, will always belong to you"

She could feel her own heart beating beneath her skin, rapid and heavy, jumping and leaping. The confession felt light on her lips, like breathing in the freshest spring air.

"And my scar. . ." Aemond was timid in tone, but his hand moulded around the Princess', holding it gently.

"It has never wavered, and it never shall"

[genz420]

The Fire That Burns With Us - Chapter 90: The Queen Of The New Age Of The Dragon.

Master List

Pervious Part - Next Part 

138 - Harrenhal   

Aemond had relieved Ben of staying with Visenya shortly after the two had finished their conversation.   Ben was happy to leave the room, leaving the two Targayens alone while he checks to ensure that Rob had been handling everything for the coronation.  

Aemond and Visenya had not spoken a word to one another, both silently minding their business until Visenya had tried to get dressed on her own.  Aemond had silently helped her, tying the dress's corset, helping Visenya with her shoes and stockings, and then making her sit down so he could do her hair.   

The dress is truly beautiful, the fabric is the deep red of the Targaryen sigil, and the dress hangs off Visenya's shoulders, leaving her neck and shoulders bare.  The many scars and burns on her skin are on display for all to see, and Aemond can’t help but feel a sense of pride.  The dress is void of both black and green, wanting to display the only loyalty that Visenya has, and instead of the trimmings being Black like her old dresses, it is gold.  Visenya had chosen to add the old belt chain that Alysanne had gifted her years ago.  

Aemond can’t help but run her hand gently through Visenya's hair, his fingers splitting some of the curls.  He could braid her hair in some elaborate design, but he has been given strict orders from Rob not to; the lords want the crown he has made to be the centrepiece and not to be outshined by Visenya's hair.  

The feeling of Aemonds hand in her hair is enough for sleep to call to her.  The simple gesture of Aemond braiding her hair and taking care of her is nice, and she knows that the moments like these might not happen again.  His presence makes her feel safe, and she knows that so long as Aemond is with her, she is safe and can relax.  

Aemond smiles as he looks down at his wife, her hands neatly resting in her lap as she leans into his touch.  Aemond watches as her chest rises and falls, his eye lingering a little too long on her chest that her dress so beautifully shows off.  

But the relaxing moment between husband and wife ends as what sounds like two people knocking on the door echoes in the room.  Aemond watches as Visenya wakes up from her doze, covering her mouth as she yawns and looks towards the door.  

Aemond gently rubs his thumb over the exposed skin of her neck before moving to answer the door.  Visenya runs her thumb where Aemonds once was as she stands up.  

Aemond can’t help the groan he lets out as he realizes who was knocking on the door. He leaves it open as he makes his way back over to Visenya, his arm wrapping around her waist once he is close enough to her, and he moves her in front of him so that she may rest against his chest.   

“Why are you two here?” Visenya asks, her hand moving to rest on Aemonds, whose hand is resting on her stomach.  

“Maybe we just wanted to see our fourth and fifth favourite Targaryens,” Ben answers as he closes the door behind him and Rob, he can’t help but smile to himself at the two Targaryens the way that Aemond holds Visenya against him like the two men are coming to take her away.  It almost reminds him how Laenor and Daenys protectively hold their toys to keep the other from taking them.   

“Fourth and fifth?” Aemond asks, holding Visenya closer to him.  He knows that the second they leave this room then, everything is going to change, and the longer he keeps Ben or Rob talking then, the longer he can just hold his wife.  

“Obviously, Laenor is number one, as he will be the best warrior the known worlds have ever seen.  Then the babe because he is inheriting from his Hightower side, so I am going to take some pity on him.  Then Daenys, who will marry my little nephew, makes her better than you two.    Visenya fourth, and that leaves you fifth,” Ben answers, he has his favourites, and while he might be having a little fun with Visenya and Aemond, he would never tell them his actual order of favourite Targaryens.  

“I am once again asking why you two are here?” Visenya asks, smiling at the little rant of Ben's logic.  

“Beside insulting us,” Aemond says in a tone low enough for only him and Visenya to hear.  Visenya can’t help but let out a slight snicker at his words, grabbing his free hand to place a light kiss on his palm.  

“The lords are waiting for you,” Rob answers this time, his words only half the truth, and he prays to his gods that Visenya doesn’t keep asking questions but instead just leaves with them now so that he doesn’t have to make up more lies.  

“I thought the meeting wasn’t until later,” Visenya comments, her eyebrows scrunching together as she looks between Rob and Ben.  She was wanting to spend more time with Aemond and maybe their children before the final meeting and her departure tonight.  

“It is,” Ben agrees, not caring for lying to Visenya.  Instead, he would rather just have them tell her why they want her to leave early with them.  

Visenya looks between her two closest friends, watching as Rob gives Ben a look of anger. The two had not agreed on a lie or made a plan about what they were going to tell her.  

“What are you two up to?” Visenya asks, watching as Rob nervously shifts his weight on his feet while Ben only rolls his shoulders.  

“Why would you possibly think that we are doing anything?” Ben asks.  

“Never in our lives would you be doing something behind your back,” Rob says, and everyone in the room knows that his words are a flat out lie.  That Ben and Rob had done many things behind her back.  

“Have I told you that you look beautiful in that dress?” Ben asks; part of him hopes that either his questions or compliments bombard her to forget about any suspicious behaviour.  

“Very beautiful,” Rob agrees, and Visenya knows they are hiding something from her.  

“What are they planning?” Visenya asks Aemond; she knows that he must know what is going on. 

“Why are you asking me?” Aemond asks rather than answers.  He will not be the one to fumble the bag and tell Visenya, knowing that Rob would get back at him for exposing the secret.  

“Because you were the one to pick out this dress,” Visenya answers; she had thought that maybe Aemond had just wanted to see her in a lovely dress before she left and perhaps he wanted to take it off her later, so that is why he picked it out.   

“I picked it out because I knew you would look beautiful in it,” Aemond tells her, knowing that it might be enough for her to stop directing her questions to him and instead her two friends.  

Aemond is right because Visenya looks away from him and towards Rob, her eyes narrowed, and she knows that she would sooner get information out of him than Ben.  Rob thanks all the gods that Aemond is holding Visenya for fear that she might lunge for him to get the information she wants out of him.  

“Rob?” Visenya asks.  

“Don’t look her in the eye,” Ben whispers to his friend, wanting to lighten the mood but also because he knows Rob would break if he did.  

“The lords are waiting for you because we are leaving tomorrow, and they wanted to do something,” Rob tells her, trying to dance around the truth as much as he can.  

“What do they want?” Visenya asks; she isn’t finished making sure everything is in order before her departure.  

“I made you a crown,” Rob answers, but his voice is barely above a whisper and so quiet that even Ben is having difficulty hearing him.  

“What?” Visenya asks; the mumbles and quiet tones sound like nothing but nonsense to her.  

“I had a crown made for you, and the lords want to have a coronation before you leave,” Rob speaks up clearer, looking at Visenya to see her reaction to the news.  

The other two men in the room wait to see what Visenya does if she agrees to go ahead with the coronation.  Aemond can feel Visenya's heartbeat quicken against his chest, and he can’t help but brace himself for her reaction.  

“Okay,” Visenya says, nodding as she looks at Rob.  

“Really?” Rob asks, he had expected her to put up more of a fight against this, and he had prepared a whole speech to convince her that this is a good idea. 

“You want me to change my mind?” Visenya asks him; she knows that doing this means so much to the people that follow her.  If she finally gives in to what they want, they might fight harder for her.  

“Gods no,” Rob answers as he straightens out his clothes.   “Making this crown has been a pain.  Come on, no time for Aemond and you to have some alone time, people are waiting.”

Visenya can’t help but roll her eyes at Rob's tone and eagerness.  Aemond doesn’t bother telling Rob off for making a comment. Instead, he just unwraps his arm from around Visenya and offers it to her, which she gladly does.  

Ben smiles at the two; if Visenya and Aemond can make it through everything going on, then he and Helaena may have a chance.  

“Ao ȳdra daor emagon naejot gaomagon bisa,” Aemond whispers to Visenya as they leave their room.  He knows she never wanted to be queen but also hates the public gatherings that come with being part of the royal family.  

You don’t have to do this. 

“Skoro syt? Gaomagon jaelā naejot se pāletilla?”  Visenya asks, a smile on her face telling him that her words don’t have any mean intent behind them.  

Why? Do you want to wear the crown?

Visenya keeps her eyes forward as they walk, trained on Ben's head because if she were to look at Aemond, then she wouldn’t be able to make little jokes but instead tell him the truth about how she doesn’t want this.  

“Nyke ȳdra daor pendagon kessa ñuha bartos,” Aemond answers.  

I don’t think it would fit my head. 

– – 

Rob had worked hard in making the ruined hall of Harrenhal look presentable, fit for a royal coronation.  The hall is no Dragonpit but is far nicer than the funeral grounds of Dragonstone.  Rob had also gained the help of Corlys, who gladly gave his service.  Rob had luckily found a few remnants of the few objects from the naming of King Jaehaerys heir.  

The hall has been lit by many candles and roaring fires around the room; Rob is also glad that the weather cooperates with them.  No rain, no wind, just clear skies and a warm breeze.  

Visenya had kept her head high when she and Aemond entered the hall, wanting to appear strong, but in reality, she hasn’t felt these nerves since her wedding day.  She could feel everyone's eyes on her, lords, knights, soldiers, and just the people of the Riverlands staring at her.  They all want her to do this, but she can’t help but feel like her grandsire is going to pop out of nowhere and yell at her for doing this like she was stealing lemon cakes from the kitchen when she was younger.  

And as she kneels before Rob, her eyes closed as she keeps her breath steady; all she can feel is the burning stares on her back.  She fears that if she opens her eyes, she will back out of this or make eye contact with the Velaryon.  

Rob can’t help but look at Visenya with worry, giving Aemond a glance to see if they should continue.  The soon-to-be King Consort nods for Rob to continue.   Rob wiping his hands on his pants to clear them of any sweat.  

Rob doesn’t think he could be any prouder of something than he is the crown. The crown is simple, unlike the one that Aegon or Rhaenyra wears now.  Instead of being the same shape as the two crowns, more elegant and fitting to Visenya.  Black metal that twists up to match almost horns, a smaller pair sitting slightly under the larger one.  Both pieces came to meet at a point that would hopefully rest in the middle of Visenyas forehead.   A piece of the red gem from Visenya's sword meets the two pieces.  

Rob had put thought into the crown; he knows that she takes pride in the things she had made for herself.  The two metal-like horns represent her two dragons, and the gem is from the sword she has had with her through everything.     

The crown is light in his hands, reminding him of Visenya's sword.   The hand turns to hold the crown up above his head and towards the crowd.  The words that Corlys had told him repeat in his head; he doesn’t want to be the one to fuck this up. 

“I now proclaim Visenya of House Targaryen, second of her name, Queen of the Andals and the First Men.  Protector of the Seven Kingdoms!” Rob shouts, his words echoing around the hall, and he moves and places the crown on Visenya's head.   “The Dróttning’daishar!”

Visenya finally opens her eyes and looks towards Rob, slightly asking her friends if she can stand up now.  The crown is heavy on her head, and she wishes she knew what it looks like.  Rob holds his hand out towards Visenya, smiling as she places her own in his.  Rob helps her help and lifts her hand in the air.  

“Long may she reign!” Rob tells the crowd he prays that the hall repeats his words or else it would be a little embarrassing.  

Visenya looks towards Rob before towards the crowd.  She doesn’t want to say anything but the way that Rob holds her hand up is doing nothing but shoot pain through her.  

“Long may she reign!” The room repeats, once and then again and again. 

The crown. 

Taglist: If you wish to be added to taglist please comment so!

@kassies-take @tempt-ress​

[winnysplayground]

“he’s so babygirl”

babe he just killed somebody.

[itshelia]

Taking anti-depressant pills?? Seeing a therapist??? Journaling???? No need babe, my fav writer just dropped another x reader fic.

[myladyship]

"After everything you have done. How will you sleep at night?"

"Next to my wife."

[realangelahernandez]

I’m so sad… time for an x reader fan fiction

[crownofdecitreadingrespectfully]

Why do writers apologize for long fics? why aRE YOU SORRY FOR FEEDING US POOR, SORRY SOULS THE MOST BEAUTIFUL ARTWORK WE COULD EVER DREAM OF READING?? DO MICHELIN STAR CHEFS APOLOGIZE FOR COOKING THE MOST DIVINE FOOD EVER MADE??? DO THEY APOLOGIZE FOR NOURISHING OUR BODY AND SOULS????

[youraverageaemondsimp]

Lust for love. // Aemond Targaryen x Wife!Reader.

Summary: Aemond's life has always been a bitter and sour one, the only sweet thing in his life was you, his wife, perhaps too sweet for his liking, yet he neglected you in the past but a series of events lead you both together into love.

WARNINGS: mdni, smut, unprotected p in v, cunnilingus, interrupted orgasm, horny aemond, martial duties, clit stimulation, tiddy succin, body worship(?), gentle and kind aemond but he gets rough during sex, + not proofread, lmk if I missed any!

WC: 2.9k

A/N: divider credits @cafekitsune

The cold breeze brushed against Aemond's face as he walked hastily towards your chamber, his boots clacking against the stone floor heavily while his heart banged in his ribcage.

He was feeling light headed, unable to form any thoughts and only the words of the maester rang inside his skull from earlier. ‘Your lady wife seems to be sick’ he had informed him and those mere words were enough to make Aemond spurt up from his chair in the meeting room and immediately rush towards you.

Aemond, frankly, did not know why he was feeling anxious at the information that you were sick, he did not even like you much and only merely married you for the connections and benefits your family provided.

You were just a mere duty to him, so when did he start caring about you?

He stood in front of your chamber door waiting anxiously as the guard gave him a bow before he opened the door, the mental hinges creaking as it slowly moved. He steps inside hurriedly and immediately lets out a sigh of relief when he sees you sitting up. You just stare at him confused.

“Husband? What are you doing here?” The tone of your voice indicated surprise, because Aemond had never visited your chambers even once since the beginning of your marriage and only called you to his chamber when he wanted to consummate.

“I had been informed by the maester that you were sick.” He replies nonchalantly, tone betraying the true feelings that were whirling on the inside. He wanted to get close to you, embrace you.

“I'm not with child.” You reluctantly tell him while looking down, suddenly feeling as though you are a disappointment. It felt humiliating to tell him that, especially when he came all the way to your chambers, he probably expected that you would be with a child.

Except that was not the case.

Aemond was confused on why you were bringing up that topic now, but then it clicked in his head and he cleared his throat, grabbing your attention before shaking his head, “Oh no, wife, I wasn't here because of that.. I was worried.” He admits and your eyes widen in shock.

Worried for you?

For as long as you can remember Aemond never seemed the type to show affection or concern for anyone, perhaps it was due to his past grievances, you had only heard about his eye through rumours, he never opened up to you about anything. You were a duty for him, someone he needs a legitimate heir from; because it is not as though he doesn’t have whores to seek pleasure from so what is the use of you? ; or at least that is what you had assumed and questioned.

But to Aemond, you were his sweet gentle wife, he was afraid of hurting you, in his vision, you were like a white swan, pure, elegant and graceful, he did not want to scare you lest you fly away from him. He did not know when he started perceiving you in this way, but as time went on, he had developed quite a soft spot for you.

“My apologies, Lord husband, I did not intend to worry you.” You apologised, he shook his head gently. “No need to apologise, how are you feeling now?” He questions and you simply blink at him, “I'm well, better than before.” You reply with a soft smile. Aemond's lip curved upwards slightly as he nodded, “Very well.” He says in a dismissive tone.

Awkward silence falls between you both as you look down, he clears his throat before speaking, “If you'll pardon me- I have to—”

“Would you like to take a walk with me?” The question leaves your mouth in a hurry before you could stop it, a desperate attempt at clinging onto this fleeting moment of affection. He seems slightly taken aback but he nods his head, “I'd love to.” He replies and you nod, stepping in his direction and standing next to him. “Shall we go?” You inquire, “Yes, wife.” He answers and you wait for him to take the first step, which he does; and soon you follow him out of the room.

You both stroll down the garden, admiring the scenery, the breeze was gentle today, and the weather seemed perfect, Aemond linked your arm in his, holding you close to him.

Your skin was soft to the touch and it drove him insane, he couldn't help but stare at the way your breasts pushed up against the material of your dress, he never really properly fucked you like you deserve.

Yet now, he just wants nothing to do but push you against the castle wall and fuck you relentlessly in the garden. Aemond realised that he never heard you moan, or show any type of reaction when he consummated with you.

He wondered how your soft voice would shriek in pleasure, calling out his name in pleasure, how you'd cling so tightly to him, he wished he could witness such a sight. He wished he hadn't gone to whores to receive pleasure while he left his wife dry. He missed out on a lot of things due to his decisions.

He mentally made a note to stop visiting brothels as it would taint your honour, he could simply seek the same pleasure from you. He became more bothered as his imagination went wild.

“... husband…? husband…!” He snaps out of his imagination, looking at your confused expression, “Y-Yes? Please excuse me, I was lost in thought.” He apologises and you give him a soft smile, “You were saying something?” He asks and you nod, “I was thinking about; well; if you excuse my rudeness, I realised we don't know much about each other.” You truthfully tell him.

Aemond furrows his brows in question, “What do you mean by that wife?”

“I want to get to know you, husband.” You stare at him in the eye and his eye widens slightly, and just then he recalls the memory of Aegon's words.

“That woman in the brothel knows more about you than your own wife, don't you find it amusing?” He was taunting Aemond, and at that time Aemond ignored those words, but now that you've openly admitted that you don't know him much made his heart shatter.

“Of course wife, what do you wanna know?” He decides to let his guard down, ready to tell you whatever you ask for. “Everything.” You reply, biting your lip anxiously, your hand travels up to his face, caressing his cheek before you trail your thumb down his scar. He knew what that implication meant and he smiles at you in a gentle manner, his own hand coming up to grab your wrist.

“Of course.”

Days pass by just like that, your marriage with Aemond had improved tremendously after your little effort to get to know him better, you felt bad for him when he began to reveal such vulnerable things, yet you never judged him.

He had shown you all of his vulnerability so openly, from the matter of his eye to everything else. You listened in silence, and he appreciated that.

As Aemond grew more comfortable, he began to show his emotional side, which included both his vulnerability and anger. He would utter treasonous things about his own brother.

This night was one of those cold nights, the cold breeze flew into the martial chambers you were waiting in, the maids prepared you for the consummation as they do, you and Aemond consummate according to your moon cycle since your only duty is to provide him with a heir.

And besides, he probably did not want to lay with you in an intimate manner, or for pleasure. You felt insecure because of that.

You were scared that after all this progress, everything would return to the same way it was before because of this night, you doubted that it would happen but your thoughts plagued you.

You winced when you felt the maid tug at a hair strand accidentally, “Sorry my lady.” She apologises to you, “It is alright.” You respond softly, you stare at your own reflection in the mirror, eyes trailing down your features.

The door to the chamber opens, and Aemond strides in hurriedly, the maids quickly finish fixing you up and leave the room immediately, you get up from your seat and turn around to see Aemond undoing his clothes.

“Let me help you.” You offered, usually he would decline and continue to undress himself, and you expected that again, but his actions shocked you.

He immediately dropped his hands to the side and turned to look at you, waiting for you to walk over to him and help him. You blinked rapidly before rushing over to where he stood before you stood in front of him.

Your hands immediately began to work on removing his vest, your fingers delicately undid the loops, you were too focused on the job that you failed to notice Aemond's piercing gaze. He watched with intent as you worked on removing his clothes, his eye taking in your form. His breeches felt tight.

You pushed his coat off his shoulders and peeled away the vest, revealing his tunic beneath the layers, his garments fell to the ground with a shuffle, you stepped back, leaving him in his undergarments.

He grabbed the hem of his tunic before he pulled it off and then began to undo his breeches, untying the strings. You took that as a gesture to lay down on the bed, facing up.

This is what you did when you both consummated before, you would lay down, he would spread your legs, insert himself, finish and leave.

You expected that to be the case, but you were surprised when climbed on top of you, his face right in front of yours, platinum locks curtaining around you. He stared at your lips for a moment before he leaned in, capturing your lips with his.

You were surprised, and didn't know what to do, so you stayed still, but he bit your lip, indicating his disappointment at your freezing up, and so you immediately tried to mimic his movements.

Your lips danced against his, yet it couldn't match the fervent passion he moved with, it was desperate, intimate and most importantly, filled with love and lust.

All your prior insecurities melted away under his warm lips which were filled with desire and want, he wanted you, he seeked you out.

You both pulled away to catch your breaths, his lips were glossy from your saliva and slightly swollen. Your heart was pounding loudly in your chest.

Aemond moved your night off your shoulder before ripping it apart, revealing your breasts which you immediately covered out of instinct. But he gently grabbed your wrists and pinned your hands to the side of your head.

He leaned down, tracing kissing down your jawline, to your neck and to the soft flesh of your chest. His hot breath against your bud made you shiver in delight.

He hooked his tongue on your hardened nipple before engulfing it with his mouth, you let out a squeal of surprise at his actions but you didn't stop him.

He suckled on it gently, using his teeth to trap the bud in between before licking it with his tongue, he grunted in delight, his grip loosening one of your hands, freeing it from his hold.

He grabbed your unoccupied breast with his now free hand, giving it soft squeezes and playing with the bud, rolling and pinching it. You were new to this, not having any understanding of what was happening, after all, you've only read about it, never experienced such intimate acts yourself.

You rubbed your thighs together, trying to ease the ache that was forming in between them, you realised how sticky the area felt, and how it made it difficult for the friction of rubbing to work.

He notices this, lets go of your breast with a pop, he smirks before he rises off from you and settles in between your legs, this was the position you were more used to.

He spreads your legs wide apart, pulling up your nightgown, revealing all of you. He pressed his thumb against your clit which made your breath, you stared at him confused until you felt him rub small circles upon it.

Your body felt pangs of delightful stimulation, you couldn't help but enjoy the feeling, all of this was foreign to you. Aemond takes a deep breath before he closes in on your cunt, before licking a stripe upwards to your clit. You jolt from the sudden pleasure.

Aemond wrapped his lips around it, sucking on the bud slowly, you whined, grabbing his head for support as his mouth worked wonders down there. You tasted absolutely divine to Aemond, your essence trailing down his cheek as your body produced so much of it. You whimpered, thrashing around lightly as his warm tongue flickered with your bud.

Aemond's tongue swirled around your clit before he captured it with his mouth once again; “Oh! Yes!” You moaned, throwing your head back in pleasure when you felt him nibble on your bud. An unfamiliar feeling of warmth rose in your lower abdomen, you felt as if there was a fire inside you, waiting to combust any moment.

Just when you feet the flames beginning to erupt, Aemond stops his manoeuvres, putting out the fire, you furrowed your brows in confusion, wondering why he stopped.

But when you looked at Aemond, he seemed like an entirely different being at that moment, he had risen up back to his haunches again taking deep breaths almost as if he was trying to contain himself.

He was.

He had never felt such an overwhelming of desire in his body, every time he touched you; his mind scrambled into pieces, he wanted to fuck you so badly.

“Aemond?” You call out softly, confused, wondering if he was disappointed by your behaviour but it seems to snap him out of his daze and he stares at you. “I apologise; I'm finding it hard to control myself.” He admits his thoughts.

“Then don't.”

Aemond swore he heard you wrong.

“What?” He questions you.

“Don't try to Aemond, Don't hold yourself back, I want this, I want you.” You admit shyly.

The atmosphere fell silent for a second and you could feel the awkwardness from your own words beginning to sink in, that was until Aemond moved suddenly.

You shrieked as he pulled your hips onto his lap, wasting no time in inserting himself, you gasped at the sudden stretch, feeling yourself become full of him. You grabbed onto his shoulders for support.

He held your waist tightly, grabbing onto your hips for leverage as he began to move, thrusting himself in and out.

This was a movement you were familiar with, yet somehow it still feels new because of the strange sensation, it felt more intimate and passionate, his thrusts held meaning and it was as if every time he pushed inside you; he was reaffirming his love and desire for you.

He pushed you into the mattress, grabbing your legs and shoving them to your chest as he thrusted hard, his skin slapped against yours loudly, the room echoing the noises.

You threw your head back at the sensation, and you felt the fire in your stomach rekindle and you couldn't help but desperately chase it. “Ah, right there.” You moaned, feeling him hit a sweet spot inside you that fueled the fire in you, you gasped for air as every thrust of his knocked it out of your lungs. “You feel so good, you're driving me insane, wife.” Aemond grunts, his thrusts never once faltering.

Everything about this night together was very different from the previous ones, Aemond had never felt this good and neither have you, he regrets not trying to get to know you earlier. He felt like he was in heaven with the way you clenched around him.

He felt his high approaching, and he desperately ran after it thrusting deeper inside as he groaned and moaned.

Your body jolted up and down the bed and you felt the fire beginning to spread out slowly, you closed your eyes, when you felt the fire suddenly go out, you were confused but as Aemond thrusted one more time it erupted in your body like volcano, coursing through your veins and to your mind.

You moaned loudly, grabbing the sheets and arching your back as your eyes rolled to the back of your head at the intensity, you have never felt this way before.

Your vision went completely white before you could see once again, you felt Aemond finish inside you, his cocking twitching as he spurted his seed deep inside you.

“Seven hells.” He groans, riding his orgasm off, you watch as he clenches his eye shut taking deep breaths.

He looked so ethereal.

He immediately falls down next to you, catching his breath, he pulls you close and kisses you on the forehead, “You did so well for me.” He praises you, and you blush shyly.

Neither of you moved from the bed, having no intention to.

Typically Aemond would leave the room right after.

Yet he didn't.

He was stroking your shoulder gently as you dozed off, head resting on his shoulder.

He looks at your closed eyelids and thinks you're asleep.

“I love you.” He confesses, realising his true feelings.

Your lips quirk up into a smile before you open your eyes slightly.

“I love you too.”

You then doze off into slumber immediately, Aemond's heart picks up its pace, embarrassed and shy that you had heard him, but your response made him smile.

[hauntedfictionland]

You're serving cunt? There's a war going on and you're serving cunt?

Gif: @hoosbandewan, @peachysunrize

[lcverwrites]

aemond targaryen x targaryen!reader (daemon's daughter) drabble

note: another drabble featuring targaryen!reader from my last aemond drabble. aemond might be a little ooc in this drabble, still trying to get the hang of writing him. but i quite liked writing the dialog betwene these two, it's cute and fluffy and all things warm.

also, my requests are open! so if you have any ideas you wanna send me, i'd love to have them!

The wind was whispering against her ear, sweet and delicate, wrapping around the silver strands of hair, inviting her beneath it's wings. Offering her a respite from the summer sun, a heat so blistering it left her red cheeked and achy. But filled her with a warmth unlike anything she'd ever known, the sun was a gift she played sparingly with.

She lounged beneath an old weirwood, back pressed against the white trunk, smooth bark touching the sliver of skin that peeked through the neckline of her dress. The grass felt cool beneath her fingers, picking up a strand from the darkened soil beneath, twirling it between her fingers, allowing the blade of green grass tickle her fingertips, before letting it fall right between the gaps, landing with a silent flutter.

Another easy breath of air passed around the girl, allowing her to close her eyes, picturing herself upon the back of her dragon, air rushing into her lung, feeling the wind beneath her metaphorical wing, lifting her higher and higher, till everything below her looked more like smudges of dirt than a giant castle.

"Careful, or you'll float away with your thoughts"

His voice was one that brought a smile to her face, with her eyes still closed, she pictured his stoic form standing before her, hand held behind his back, head held a little higher than most, back straight and tall, shoulders squared and tight, ever the picture of strong royalty. That leather eye patch covering his scar, though it peeked beneath the darkened and aged brown leather, a sign of strength and victory, at least to her.

So princely and perfect.

Except for the smile, that little tug on the corner of his lips, just a little. If you didn't know what you were looking for, you might have missed it, or mistaken it for a certain smugness that came from being the son of a King.

But she knew him, better than most could say.

She knew that look, a look solely reserved for her, and her alone.

Her eyes fluttered open and she was graced with a beautiful picture, a picture that deserved the careful had of an artist to capture, but she was no artist, so she had to commit it to memory.

She'd pictured him so perfectly in her mind, that when her eyes opened, she wasn't surprised to be right. Seeing him standing so tall before her, looking like the Prince he is, all taunt and agile. A sword tucked to the loop of his belt, dressed in the finest of black leathers. Silvery stands of air swept back from his face, shimmering in the rays of glittering yellow sunlight, giving him an aura of softness that he often lacked.

And there, right on the corner of his lips, she spotted it, that little kiss of a smile staring right at her.

"Do think it weak of me, to want to float away?" She asked in a soft voice, tilting her head a little, looking up at Aemond with a smile, all buttery and soft.

"That depends, I suppose" Aemond pondered. "To where are you floating too?"

She grinned, a soft and gentle kind of smile, as Aemond played into her little moment of whimsy.

"To wherever the gods allow me" She shrugged, feeling more carefree than she had in weeks, sitting beneath the weirwood with the sun beneath her skin and the wind in her hair.

"I think you have spent to much time in the sun, Princess" Aemond's smile trickled to the rest of his lips, gracing her with a smile so rarely seen.

An action to be treasured.

A heart-warming affection he saw fitting to gift her, one she'd welcome with open arms, hoping to coax more than he'd give her.

"Perhaps" She hummed in return, turning her face up a little, allowing the sun to trickle down her face. "But it is so lovely and warm, wouldn't you agree?"

"I think the sun has brain washed you" His retort was dry and humorous.

"I agree" The Princess spoke with playful certainty, closing her eyes as she bathed in the sun. "There isn't much hope left for me, I'm afraid my Prince"

"Hmm"

It was a sound more than a response, behind her eyelids she pictured his eye following her relaxed movements, his shoulders relaxing without his knowledge.

"I should like you to join me" Her words were soft once more, airy and smooth, but teetering on the edge of something more.

"Sir Cole is waiting for me in the training grounds" Aemond's response was rehearsed, a retort he'd often used when she asked him to join her.

It was a start to a game she knew well.

"And yet, you stopped to speak with me" Her smile was wide, all teeth, joyfulness painting her sunned features. "It seems training is an unimportant task during your day"

A huff met her ears, she knew she was wearing him down, though it did not take much these days, not with her, not with her Aemond.

"I assure you, it is not" Aemond replied in kind, voice wavering for a moment, but only a moment.

So quickly that one might have missed it, but she was waiting for it, this was her opening.

And so eloquently, she pounced.

"Then, allow Sir Cole to wait a few more moments" She was firm, but her smile was wide, it was hard to decipher weather she was serious or not "So you may enjoy to summer the way it should be enjoyed"

But Aemond knew her, knew the game she was playing, they'd played it so many times before. If he were a stronger man, he might have turned his back the moment he spotted her beneath the weirwood, but he couldn't deny himself the simple pleasure that was her.

So he played in return, knowing how the game would end.

"You are a rather demanding woman" He spoke with a certainty that left her smug.

She loved when he fell into the palm of her hand, grip made to fit his perfectly.

"It's the Princess in me" She shrugged innocently, truths slipping into her words. "I've been pampered my whole life, being denied something is not a reaction I'm accustomed too"

"So I've gathered" Aemond huffed a little, a breath laugh that fluttered in her ears.

"So why don't you indulge a spoiled Princess..." She replied, tilting her head down a little, eyes opening to spare the stoic Prince a glance.

For a moment, she expected to see his expressionless face in her vision, a face she'd grown to rather fond of. But she was pleasantly surprised as her gaze met his, a smile painted his lips.

It was wide and charming, boyishly so. Her breath paused in her throat, her heart thudding so loudly in her chest, she might think it would leap right out from under her skin and flutter away with the breeze. The corners of his lips turned up, gifting her with more than she expected, that kiss of a smile still ever present.

"If Sir Cole comes looking for me, I hope you know--" His words were teasing, light-hearted and playful.

"That you shall blame me and my wily way with words, that I have bewitched you body and mind?"

She caught herself before she fell anymore, lest she might not find her words, they were her weapons in their battle if wits.

Aemond huffed another laugh, deep and throaty. His lithe and roguishly handsome figure sauntered to her, taking up her summer sun for a moment, before he indulged her, allowing his body to sink into her shade beside her.

Their bodies side by side, not even an inch could be seen between them.

Here, alone under the weirwood, the lovers could freely touch, only the gods as their witness.

His leather clad thigh pressed against the silks of her skirts, her shoulder pressing against his chest, ever so slightly. She leaned a palm against his thigh, keeping her body upright, while is warm winded around her waist, calloused hand pressed firmly against her hip, holding her frame against his own. With a delightful sigh, she leaned her head back against his shoulder, feeling him nudge her with his chin, head tilting, nosing through the silver strands of hair atop her head, before his lips grazed against the smooth skin of her temple.

"You have bewitched me" His words were no more than a whisper, enough for only her ears, lips brushing her skin with every syllable.

She waited on bated breath for more. For anything.

"You've bewitched me, mind, body and soul" Aemond continued, gently stroking her waist, she could feel his lips turning up into a smile, brushing against her temple. "Everything that I am, belongs to you"

"I fear" She started, reluctantly lifting her head from his shoulder, tearing his lips from her skin. "That the sun is melting your mind, my love"

Aemond laughed, freely, openly, no longer hiding behind his stoic façade.

"Perhaps" Aemond echoed her response. "But I quite like how soft the sun makes you, my sweet dragon"

"How romantic of you" She preened under the compliment.

"Only for you" Aemond commented, tilting his head a little, pressing his forehead to hers.

Feeling her warm skin against his own. She tilted her own head, allowing her nose to brush against his, their lips but a breath away. Her breath stuttered out, no matter how close she'd get to Aemond, or how often they'd found themselves in an romantic embrace, she'd never quite get used to the way her heart would sing for Aemond. How her brain would turn to much beneath his gaze, her words dying on her tongue.

She wondered if she'd ever rendered Aemond so useless in the same way, if he found himself finding it hard to catch his breath or that his heart was beating so harshly, he wondered is it was going to jump out of his chest and into her awaiting hands. Or if he felt the same warmth she did, touching every inch of her body.

Aemond's nose nudged hers, worming her out of her thoughts, bring her back to the present once more.

"You were floating away again my love" Aemond said softly, violet eye looking so longingly at her.

"Floating with thought of you" She mused, brushing her nose against his in return.

There beneath the weirwood tree, the two lovers nudged ever closer, embracing their lips in a romantic kiss.

[genz420]

The Fire That Burns With Us - Chapter 86: Rulers Of The Sea.

Master List

Pervious Part - Next Part

138 - Riverlands   

Visenya has missed dragon riding. It is not the same as riding to war, but the simple moment with Morghon and Cannibal is enough for her to cry.  The wind through her braided hair as she closes her eyes to feel it fully.  

Morghon seemed more than happy to go on a ride, being gentle and not as fast as he usually was when they would go on their rides.  Cannibal had joined her and Morghon in the air shortly after they had taken off, flying slightly above them but still close enough where he cast a shadow over them.     

Everything was peaceful for a moment, just the presence of her dragons and the open air.  A much-needed escape from the stress of war and the exhaustion of her new title.  

But that peace is quickly ruined as a dragon flies passed Morghon, sending Cannibal into a frenzy but Morghon into a happier mood.  

Unlike Aemond and Ben, Visenya immediately recognizes that dragon.  Having spent her early years learning how to ride a dragon with him on Morghon.  A rage fills her as she spots a rider on Seasmoke; she will not hesitate to kill the person that has claimed the dragon that once belonged to her father and was meant for one of her children to claim. 

It seems that the person riding Seasmoke is leading Visenya and Morghon toward a clearing, and she happily follows them, with Cannibal flying closer to Visenya and Morghon.  

Laenor thanks all the gods so that he can find Visenya on a dragon ride rather than having to see her during a war meeting or on the battlefield.  He wants nothing more than to hold his little girl.  

The black shadow that is Morghon flies close to him and Seasmoke, but Laenor doesn’t worry for a second about the dragon hurting him or his dragon.  What does concern him is the riderless dragon that flies slightly above Visenya and Morghon.  

Seasmoke quickly lands in the clearing, and Laenor jumps off his dragon.  It felt good to be in the air again, one of the things that he has missed.  Laenor makes his way into the meadow's centre as Morghon lands, followed shortly by the bigger dragon.  Laenor can’t believe his eyes as Visenya dismounts Morghon and makes her way toward him. 

“Visenya?” Laenor asks, not wanting to believe that the sweet little girl he once knew is now a fully grown and scary woman. 

Visenya instantly reaches for her waist, reaching for a weapon that isn’t there.  Her sword probably still lies against her and Aemonds bed, and her dagger that had once belonged to her father had been left behind on Dragonstone.  

“Who are you, and why the fuck do you have that dragon?” Visenya asks; she wishes she had listened to Aemond and Ben about bringing a weapon or one of them with her, but she feels that two grown scary dragons behind her would be more than enough to keep her safe.  

But Morghon seems rather excited about the older dragon, leaving Visenya and Cannibal to greet Seasmoke.  Cannibal, on the other hand, stays close to Visenya, eyeing the new dragon as a snack.  Cannibal will happily rip apart the dragon if he gets too close to Visenya.  

“Watch your mouth, young lady,” Laenor tells Visenya, she might be a queen to some, but that didn’t give her any right to say such words.  

Visenya looks at the man in bewilderment; she doesn’t know who he is or who he thinks he is to tell her what to do.   Laenor has to hold himself back from laughing at the face Visenya pulls at his words; she has always been prideful and strong-headed.   

“Excuse me?” Visenya asks, wondering who this man thought he was to be telling her what to do.   “You are in my territory, and I will not hesitate to send you back in pieces to that bitch,” 

“I’m not working for the Blacks,” Laenor tells Visenya, not commenting on the name-calling of Rhaenyra.  

“So the Greens are working with Dragonseeds now.  How ironic,” Visenya assumes, laughing at herself.  She knows how much Alicent detests basterds, so if she and the Greens are recruiting dragonseeds is comical.  

“I am Addam of Hull.  I wrote to you about claiming Seasmoke and aiding in your cause,” Laenor tells Visenya, he knows that he should tell Visenya the truth, but he can’t help but wonder how badly she will take the news. 

While Morghon doesn’t sense the anger radiating from Visenya, Cannibal does.  Cannibal eyes Saesmoke; even if he had indulged in the past week on dragons, he would be more than happy to take the smaller dragon out and drag its carcass back to his nest.  

“Cannibal gīda ilagon.  Konīr iksis daor ōdrikagon kesī,” Visenya tells Cannibal, resting her head against his neck.  She doesn’t know if the dragon is the same as Morghon and loves physical touch, but the low rumble he lets out says he does.  Even with the contact with Visenya, Cannibal doesn’t stop eyeing Seasmoke.   “Issa daor havor!”

Cannibal, calm down.  There is no danger here.  He is not food!

Morghon looks away from Seasmoke and towards Visenya, wondering if she is talking to him, but as he sees the hungry and agitated Cannibal, he backs away from Seasmoke and moves back towards the pair.  

Laenor watches as Visenya calms the scary dragon, seeming to calm down, still eyeing Saesmoke and him.  Laenor feels like if he moves one small muscle, the dragon will jump and swallow him whole.  The lack of dragons around Dragonstone scared him, but as he studies the dragon more, he understands why.  

The deep black scales littered with scars and the piercing green eyes tell him who the dragon is.  But the way that he seems to wrap himself around Visenya, almost blocking her entirely from view and the fact that he doesn’t attack the young Morghon makes him wonder what the relation Visenya has with Cannibal.   

“That’s the Cannibal,” Laenor comments and all three dragons are quick to look to the sky, and Laenor follows their eye line.   “And that is Vhagar,”

“Fuck me,” Visenya mumbles to herself as she looks back at Cannibal, watching as any progress that she has made in calming him down vanishes.  Cannibal and Vhagar don’t get along with each other, and since Cannibal is already on edge because of Seasmoke, she knows that one of the dragons is going to get attacked.   “Sōvēs!”

Cannibal lets out a huff at Visenya's command but does listen to her.  Moving away from Visenya and Morghon before taking off into the air, as he does, Vhagar lands in the clearing. Morghon is the only happy creature at Vhagars arrival, greeting the older dragon and leaving Visenya's side.   

Aemond thanks any gods that might be listening as he finally finds Visenya; the two large dragons had been a dead giveaway to her location. The dragon that had flown over Harrenhal was, in fact, trying to find Visenya, and Aemond can slightly make out a small person that stands in the clearing.  

Aemond barely gives Vhagar a chance to land before he makes his way off the dragon, drawing his sword once his feet hit the ground.  Aemond almost runs to Visenya, his eye searching for any wound that she might have, and Aemond's eye lingers on the braces on Visenya's hands and arms.  Aemond brings his sword up and points toward the man as he gets close enough to Visenya.  

“Who are you?” Aemond asks as he slightly pushes Visenya behind him.   “Umbagon inkot nyke,”

Stay behind me.

Visenya rolls her eyes at Aemond's command, but instead of pushing him away and yelling at him for thinking she can’t protect herself, she wraps her hand around his forearm, which holds her back.  Laenor watches the two, the way that Visenya has relaxed and looks at him softly and how Aemond seems to be protecting Visenya as Cannibal had.  

Laenor holds back a smile at the way Aemond talks to Visenya in High Valyrian.  He remembers her begging him to bring Aemond to one of her lesions so that he would learn the language with her, and it seems that he had learned it on his own.  

“Iksan sȳz,” Visenya tells Aemond, but he doesn’t care.  “Iksan able naejot gūrogon hen nykēla,”

I’m fine. I am able to take care of myself. 

All Aemond can think about is what might have happened if he didn’t get here in time, if he would have lost Visenya and if this man might have tried to hurt her.  Relief that had filled him once he saw that she was okay and unharmed, with her dragons protecting her.   

“Daor mijegon aōha egros se aōha paktot sir,” Aemond tells Visenya, and Laenor eyes widen as he notices the way Aemond hand rests on Visenyas's stomach, holding her back.  

Not without your sword and your state right now.

“You’re with child?” Laenor asks, and both Visenya and Aemond look away and toward him.  

The two would be used to Ben or Rob asking them that question but a stranger or someone they don’t remember asking them that question shocks them both.  Aemond looks away from the stranger and towards Visenya, specifically her stomach, where his hand snuggly rests.  He had subconsciously rested his hand there, and Aemond can feel his mind racing about the possibilities.  

“What?” Visenya asks, not understanding where the man had gained the audacity to ask that question.   

“He said that you can’t protect yourself in your current state,” Laenor answers, his hand slightly questioning Aemonds hand, which Visenya moves away at the realization of where it is.  Part of Laenor hopes that she is and that he might be able to be there for her pregnancy, but then again, they are at war, and Visenya seems like she would want to be on the front lines no matter her state.  

“You speak High Valyrian?” Visenya asks, trying to step closer to the man, but Aemond moves in front of her.  There is no way that he will let her get near that man in the first place, but if she is with child, then he will keep as much space between them.  

“Are you with child?” Aemond asks, his voice soft and full of hope.  They might be at war, but the chance of having another child fills him with so much excitement and joy.  

The look that Visenya does not, though.  

“Aemond?” Visenya asks, turning her head to make sure that he is being serious.  Aemond shakes his head in response, not wanting to upset her, but he can’t help but feel slightly disappointed. Visenya looks back at Laenor, her demeanour that she had before Aemond arrived.   “You speak High Valyrian?”

Laenor watches the young couple, the way that Aemond changed entirely at the mention of Visenya's possibility of being pregnant, and his whole wall seems to drop.   He hasn’t seen that kind of reaction, not even when Rhaenyra had told Harwin of her pregnancy.  The pure look of love and hope that had shined in Aemonds eye when he had asked the question.  

“No?” Laenor asks, slightly unsure if he should tell Visenya and Aemond the truth and who he is or if he should keep the identity of Addam of Hull going so he might be able to return to Esso.  

It seems like that snaps Aemond out of his little daydream, remembering that there is a stranger with a dragon standing before them.  Aemond raises his sword back up, ready to cut down the man if he needs to, but Laenor just eyes the prince.  Laenor might be out of practice with his sword fighting skills, but he has more expanse than Aemond, so no doubt he would be able to disarm him if it came down to it.  

“Who are you, and what are your intentions?” Aemond asks, keeping his eye trained on Laenor, and Laenor can’t help but shiver at the look in Aemonds eye.  

Laenor raises his arms, showing the two that he doesn’t mean to draw his weapon or hurt them.  But the longing dragon behind him only sneaks closer; while Morghon doesn’t seem to care about Seasmoke, Vhagar does.  Laenor can only imagine what Cannibal would have done to protect Visenya and Aemond.  

“Put down your sword, boy I mean no harm,” Laenor tells Aemond, and he realizes that his words might be the best, that the prideful man might take offence to it.  

Laenor is, in fact, right about Aemond taking offence at his words.  

“How dare you speak to me that way; I am husband to Visenya Targaryen, second of her-”

“Aemond, shut up,” Visenya cuts off Aemond, moving in front of him and closer to Laenor.  “Who taught you high Valyrian?”

Visenya can’t deny that the man looks familiar, that his dark purple eyes match hers.  The same eyes Corly would always tell her that she inherited from Laenor.  The man claimed that he is a dragonseed, so the fact that he has purple eyes only furthers his claim, but the lack of hair makes her wonder.  But there is something about his face that makes Visenya's stomach turn.  

“My father and mother,” Laenor answers, and he watches Visenya's mind work.  It seems that she is putting together the pieces in her mind.  

“And who are they?” Visenya asks, the pieces coming together, but she needs him to admit it before she outright accuses him.  

“I think you know who,” Laenor answers and Aemond can’t help but watch the two talk, wanting to understand what is happening and who this man is.  

“Visenya, who is this man?” Aemond asks Visenya, turning his body slightly away from Laenor and leaving his side open for an attack, but he doesn’t care at the moment.  

“Go back to Harrenhal,” Visenya tells Aemond, her eyes pleading with him to just listen to her.   

“I’m not going to leave you defenceless,” Aemond tells Visenya, his face close to hers as his breath hits her cheek.  

Laenor watches Aemond with a close eye; they might be married, but the idea of Aemond so close to his daughter doesn’t sit well with him.  

“Then give me your sword,” Visenya tells Aemond, knowing that it might bring him some peace of mind, but she would not be able to hold it.  Unlike herself, Aemond doesn’t have a Vlayrian steel sword, so it is a long chance that she would be able to hold it up and use it.  

Aemond quickly hands his sword over, the metal of her braces making a sound as she grabs hold of it and lets it go to her side.  

“If you are not back within the hour or if Vhagar tries to bring me back-”

“I’ll be okay,” Visenya assures Aemond, leaning up and giving him a quick kiss on his cheek.   “Avy jorrāelan,”

I love you.  

Aemond studies Visenya's face, her eyes pleading for him to leave and return to Harrenhal.  He could leave the meadow but have Vhagar fly around it to make sure that she is okay, but that would probably lead to them running into Cannibal, with whom Vhagar might pick a fight.  

Aemond nods and looks at Laenor, his mind trying to figure out where he recognizes him, but he can’t.  Aemond looks down at Visenya's hand; the way she is pointing it at the grown tells him that she can’t support the sword, but he knows that her having some kind of sharp object would give her the advantage if it came down to a fight.  

Aemond lets out a hum before making his way back to Vhagar; he will tell Ben everything that has happened once he has returned, and he knows that the knight might be able to give him some answers.  

Visenya and Laenor watch Aemond leave, Visenya waiting until Vhagar leaves the meadow to ask her questions while Laenor is happy to have some alone time with his daughter.  

“You are going to tell me your name,” Visenya tells Laenor, sticking the tip of Aemonds sword into the ground.  She wants to hear him say who he is, to know that her mind isn’t jumping to conclusions about who he is.  

Laenor smiles to himself at her commanding tone.  He remembers when she was once too scared to talk to people in public, but now she is telling him what he is going to do, and he can’t help but notice that it is the same tone Daemon would use with his soldiers in the Step Stones.  

“Well, look at you, miss bossy-”

“I will kill you,” Visenya cuts Laenor off.  She wants to scare him and put the fear of the gods into him, but as she tries to pick up Aemonds sword, she can’t, it being far too heavy for her wrist to support and heavier than her own.  

“You’ve changed,” Laenor tells Visenya, not phased by her threat.  

“I didn’t change; I grew up. Without you,” Visenya corrects Laenor; she wants to know how he is alive and standing before her.  

“Ñuha dōnas-”

“Don’t call me that,” Visenya cuts him off; she calls her children by that nickname because she thought that her father loved her just as much as she loves her children, but now she can’t help but doubt that he ever cared.   “How?”

“How what?” Laenor asks; he knows that Visenya probably has questions for her, and he wants to ensure that he answers the questions she asks.  

“How are you alive?” Visenya asks, not understanding how he is standing in front of her.  

“I never died,” Laenor answers; he will tell Visenya the truth to any questions she asks, even if the answers hurt her.  

“You left? Did you hate your life that much?  Were we not good enough for you to stay? I don’t understand-”

“Your mother and Daemon wanted to marry, and I was the only thing standing in their way,” Laenor cuts Visenya off, not wanting her to think he didn’t love her and that she wasn’t good enough. 

Leaving his children was harder than convincing his parents that he was dead, but he knew that Daemon would be more than happy to take over his father's role, giving him peace of mind.  That Jace, Visenya, Luke, and Joffrey would grow up with two parents that loved them and each other.   He wanted them to have a healthy environment to grow up in, and even if he and Rhaenyra had an understanding, he knew that the children would grow up to realize that they didn’t love each other.  He wanted his children to marry someone they love and strive for a relationship that they knew best.  

“So they made you leave?” Visenya asks, her voice breaking and Laenor wonders if leaving was the best idea.  

Visenya wants so badly to be angry with him, for her anger to be the only thing she feels, but it isn’t.  The thoughts of her not being good enough flood her mind. She means nothing to him and has failed as a daughter.  Visenya can feel the tears in her eyes, and she does her best to blink them away.  

“I never belonged here,” Laenor answers, and he knows that it isn’t a good enough answer for Visenya, but it is the only one he can give.  

“So you just abandoned us? You were our father and left like we meant nothing to you!” Visenya asks, and she can’t feel the anger licking up her throat like fire.  She will not give him the satisfaction of seeing her cry and only allow him to see the anger he has caused.  

“I wasn’t really-”

“You were! Jace was the only one old enough to understand that you weren’t.  Luke was so young that he didn’t understand why you weren’t there.  And there is Joffrey, the son you named after your beloved, who only knows you because of me!” Visenya cuts him off; how dare he say he isn’t her father?  She has spent her whole life defending him and making sure his name wasn’t solid, but maybe she shouldn’t have.   “Daemon tried to take your place, and I defended you, but you left me!”

“I wanted you to have the best life you could, and Daemon could have given you that,” Laenor tells Visenya, his voice soft, and if anything, it just makes her feel worse.  The same soft and gentle voice that would tell her bedtime stories and sing the same songs she sings to her children.  

“Well, he didn’t.  I resented him and Rhaenyra because I thought they had murdered you,” Visenya tells Laenor before moving closer to him.   “I went to war because I wanted nothing more than to join you at sea, but your body isn’t even in that casket,”

“I’m sorry,” Laenor tells Visenya as he tries to calm her down.  “I wanted you to have the best life you could, and you have gotten that,”

“I named my son after you,” Visenya tells Laenor, but her words are more to herself. “I tell them stories of you”

“‘You can not tell me that my leaving did not give you chances that you wouldn’t have had if I stayed,” Laenor whispers to Visenya, but she just shakes her head.  

“We’ll never know,” Visenya says before she turns her back to Leanor, Aemonds sword weighs heavy in her weak grip.  

The idea of killing Laenor pops into her mind.  No one would know, and Morghon and Cannibal would be able to stop Seasmoke from hurting her.  Everyone thought he was dead, so killing him now wouldn’t mean anything. 

“Where are you going?” Laenor asks as he walks closer to Visenya, knowing that Morghon wouldn’t hurt him.  Visenya doesn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing her face as she breathes heavily.  

“Back to Harrenhal,” Visenya answers, and Mroghon seems to understand the hurry she is in because the young but big dragon leans his body closer to the ground as she nears the ropes to climb up onto the dragon.   “I am needed, and there is going to be a meeting that I need to be there for, and my children need me,”

Laenor ignores the jag at his leaving, knowing that Visenya has every right to be mad at him. Still, part of him hopes that Visenya is okay with him coming with her and meeting the twins and Aenar.  The fact he still needs to inform his father of his return and that fact he is alive weighs heavy in his head.  

“Then I will join you,” Laenor tells Visenya; he needs her to know that he will not leave her again or leave to aid another cause. 

Visenya stills, her hand resting on Morghon's side as she feels his breath in and out.  She doesn’t want to risk him leaving and aiding the Blacks or Greens, but she doesn’t want to see his face, to be reminded that she wasn’t enough for him to stay.  Morghon looks away from Seasmoke and towards the sky; Visenya knows that it must be Cannibal flying back to check on her since it hasn’t been an hour, and Aemond wouldn’t be returning.   

Visenya takes a deep breath and looks back at Laenor, nodding as she blinks away her tears.   

“Cannibal will kill you and Seasmoke if you fly too close to me, and I will not stop him,” Visenya tells Laenor before she tries to climb on Morghon, and the dragon leans closer to the ground to help her.  

Taglist: If you wish to be added to taglist please comment so!

@tempt-ress @kassies-take​

[winnysplayground]

“i can fix her, i can fix him, i can fix them”

i think we need to work on you first.

[itshelia]

My mom to her friends, my aunts, and literally everyone she knows: Yeah, my kid is so smart. She is on her phone a lot of the time, but it's not like you guys think, She is not like how kids nowadays are, She reads a lot of books on her phone!!

Me, a fanfic reader who can survive off nothing but just words and day dreams herself to sleep:

[princessbellecerise]

Unlikely Places

Summary ✩ The unusual place your hotd lover likes to fuck you

Warnings ✩ Smut, straight up blasphemy (Aegon), semi-public sex

Jacaerys Velaryon

As the King, it’s not exactly wrong for the two of you to do it, but it does feel taboo every time you ride him on the Iron Throne

Every time you climbed on his lap, mindful of all the sharp points and swords, you couldn’t help but think that you’re breaking some kind of rule that doesn’t exist. After all, Jacaerys is the King and technically it is his seat. As the most powerful man in the realm, there’s no one for you to answer to after doing such an act but it certainly feels like you should

The first time that he asked you to do it, you thought that he was crazy. It was so unlike Jacaerys to do something so…risky, that you genuinely thought it was a prank at first

Only when realized you that your husband was completely serious did you really start to consider it

And you had to admit, the rush of power that you got as you bounced on your husband’s cock, riding the most powerful man in the most powerful seat in the realm was nothing like you’d ever experienced before

It quickly became your guilty pleasure to do so, never minding when Jacaerys summoned you to the throne room at such late hours

For you knew what awaited you when you climbed those steps, and each time you were filled with delicious anticipation to do it all over again

Aemond Targaryen

Ever since he was a child, Aemond had been absolutely fascinated by dragons

His obsession with those beasts was almost unnatural as his mother used to say, and you were quite inclined to agree as one day, Aemond tried to convince you to let him fuck you on top of Vhagar

Of course, the request had been so ridiculous that you genuinely thought your husband to be ill at first, maybe having contracted some disease during his many travels

Only when you saw Aemond’s confident smirk did you realize that it was indeed not a jest, and your husband really did want you to ride him on top of a fucking dragon

So there you were, thousands of feet in the air and praying that you didn’t fall as you straddled Aemond’s lap

You held onto him tight as your cunt sank down, your hips moving with his in the large saddle

Every kiss, every touch was concealed within the clouds, Vhagar flying steady while you rode your husband. The sound of her wings masked the pathetic way you cried for Aemond, filthy praises and words of encouragement being whispered in your ears as you soared across the skies

Aegon Targaryen

Aegon figures that if he’s going to hell anyways, he may as well have a little fun in his mortal life

What’s life without a little risk anyways, he figures. This is why he has no problem fucking you in the Sept of Seven, having you on your knees, naked in front of the statue of the Mother

Instead of praying to her though, you worship him. You praise his cock and the way it makes you feel so good—better than praying, really

The absolute trill of someone coming in and getting caught is like no other. Sometimes, Aegon even hopes that you’ll be discovered—preferably by his mother or that cunt of Septa that’s always preaching about sin and virtue

He imagines their faces as he fucks you from behind, taunting you and making you look directly at the statue when you cum around him

Aegon’s never really believed in the Gods much, but the way your cunt feels wrapped around him is heavenly

And to him, there’s truly no greater tasting sin

Daemon Targaryen

Otto Hightower had once called Daemon brazen, irresponsible, violent, arrogant, reckless and a second Maegor

He supposed that it was true, but still, Otto Hightower was a cunt in Daemon’s mind, and the Prince would do anything to get back at him

…Including fucking in his bed

In Daemon’s very weak defense, he hasn’t meant to, really

When he pulled you in a for a kiss, intending to take you quickly before he had to attend a meeting later in the day, he hadn’t been paying attention to where he pulled you

He just wanted to feel you, to touch you before he had to leave for the day

And what do you know—the place that he ends up brining you to fufill your hurried tryst was the fucking Tower of the Hand

Neither of you realize it at first, too caught up in each other to notice the amount of green, grey and white around you

It isn’t until you stumble onto the actual bed, Daemon fumbling to get your clothing off do you finally look up and you’re greeted by a portrait of Otto fucking Hightower on the walls

Alarmed, you immediately tell Daemon and it takes only a second to realize where you’ve accidentally stumbled

Of course, Daemon thinks it’s hilarious and even if you want to leave, a little creeped out at the thought of being fucked on the same sheets the Hand of the King sleeps on, Daemon is entirely too thrilled to leave

Once the idea is in his brain, it won’t be going any time soon

A mischievous grin grows on your lover’s face, and somehow, Dameon convinces you to let him take on Otto’s clean, perfectly folded sheets, loving the way you mess them up with your messy fucking

Of course, he’ll just blame the servants for all the mess, but now every time he faces Otto there’s always a knowing smirk on Daemon’s face, smug that the Hand will never know the dirty things said and done on the very mattress he sleeps on

Cregan Stark

Cregan was the Lord of Winterfell, and because of that he was allowed to eat where he pleased, train where he pleased…and fuck where he pleased

It was this that he reminded you of as he took you in one of the hot springs the castle had to offer, water splashing as your husband’s hips thrust into yours

He had you on his lap, your tits pressed against his warm wet chest as you bounced on his cock

The both of you were well aware that this was a public place and that anyone could stumble upon you, but that only spurred you on more

Honestly, seeing your honorable and kind husband act so reckless was a turn on in itself, loving the way Cregan grunted and didn’t care who heard him

He was lost in the feel of your cunt and the warm water which only added to the sensations

Add that to the trill of getting caught, and neither of you really lasted long when you fucked in the springs

Still panting and filled with your husband’s seed, you grinned as you ran a hand through his tangled hair

“Another day without being caught,” You said, slightly disappointed

Cregan shrugged. “Well, maybe we’ll succeed next time.”

Benjicot Blackwood

“Ben, not here! Someone could see us!”

“Then let them see. Let those Bracken cunts see how a real man pleases his Lady wife,” Benji whispered, and you couldn’t even deny that fucking right on the Blackwood-Bracken boundary line didn’t bring a kind of fire to your veins that you craved

Your lover had always been more shy and sweet than anything else, but you knew just how deep his hatred for the Brackens ran when he threw all of that away and fucked you so close to their territory

Deep, satisfactory moans left his lips as he rutted into you, the thrill of getting caught edging you both on like no other

You pressed against Benji, panting as his cock drove in out of you and hit your sweet spots over and over

All you could think about, all you craved was cumming around your husband’s cock while his enemies watched; and you did

Benji was beyond proud of himself as you moaned and let the entirety of House Bracken know what was happening. Let them know how good he was making you feel

He felt bad for the wives of those smug cunts as surely they’d never know such pleasure, but at least Benji knew that you couldn’t relate

The Brackens could say whatever they wanted about his family, but at least the Blackwoods knew how to fuck

And who knows, if they were watching, then maybe they’d even learn a thing or two from Benji

tags 🏷️

@alyssa-dayne

[ophelieverse]