#ameond targaryen

[myladysapphire]

His Sapphire Princess (I)

After the night in the brothel Rhaenyra is married to Laenor Velayron to protect the birth of her child. who in the years to follow is the only one of Rhaenyra's children that is believed to be his, she is loved by all in the red keep, even queen Alicent adores the girl, so when Rhaenyra proposes a marriage between Aemond and Rhaenyra's daughter Visenya, Alicent happily agrees.

The children having been best friends in their youths are more than happy to be wed but when the incident at drift mark occurs things change, will it be for better or worse?

word count: 2,866

CW: mummy issues, childish teasing, incest

Fem!oc x Aemond Targeryen (can be read as x reader)

Masterlist | series masterlist | next part

disclamer:  i do not own any of claim any of the A song of ice and fire charecters, all rights belong to GRR MARTIN, all charecters are his except for my OC                     

                                Visenya

Her mother was once again in labour. Visenya was the eldest of three. With two brothers and two uncles, she often found herself surrounded by boys. Her Aunt Heleana was often her only escape and even then, bugs seemed more interesting to her. She had longed for a baby sister and loved the idea of dressing her up like a doll and teaching her everything she knew. She often felt lonely,  her brothers were often off with their eldest Uncle Aegon, trying their hardest to impress him. She missed the days when they longed for her satisfaction or happiness over any task, she asked them to do. And now they focused their attention on tormenting her other Uncle Aemond.

Aemond was her dearest friend, having both had eggs that didn't hatch in the cradle they found a way to bond through that. And later their love for the histories of old Valyria and learning High Valyrian.

One was never without the other, that was until she finally claimed her dragon.

When she was six, she went to Dragonstone for the first time. There she made it her mission to claim a dragon. She did not mind which, but she was determined to do so. Having given up much sooner than Aemond on her egg ever hatching, she concluded that she would claim a dragon, and if Aemond wished, she would happily share a dragon with him.

It was no easy feat, she snuck off in the dead of night and rode on horseback (a horse double her size, barely hanging on for dear life) to the dragon mount. Nine dragons resided on Dragonstone, her mother's; Syrax, her brothers; Vermax and Arrax, her father's; Seasmoke, the three wild dragons; Sheepstealer, Greyghost and the cannibal (though she would never think of attempting to claim them), and then there was Vermithor and Silverwing. She believed her best bets were lied with one of them, wild dragons being far too risky for a mere child. There were also several hatchlings and young dragons, but she wanted a grown one. A dragon to strike fear and build her respect.

She was a princess and the heir to the iron throne, after her mother. And riding a dragon fit for a king or a queen is a sure-fire way to build her some support, if not fear to stop any usurpation.

So, when she came face to face with Vermithor, she knew he would be hers.

She sang him a Valyrian lullaby, A song her mother often sang to one of her brothers. She almost giggled at the motion, the bronze fury, wooed by a lullaby. But she had heard stories of dragons being lulled into submission by a song, she hoped it would attract his attention, and lure him out.

It did.

Though she did not anticipate him letting a monstrous roar into her face, a fire built in his throat.

"Umbagon, gīda"

Wait, calm.

He stopped, his head lowered, sniffing her. She refused to show her fear, refused to cry. "Dohaerās" she stuttered.

Serve

His head lowered further, edging closer to her face. He sniffed her, letting out a grumble. "Dohaerās" she let out again, this time her voice firm.

His body lowered; his face approached hers. She reached her hand out to stroke him, rubbing at his nose.

"kessa ao ivestragī nyke kipagon ao?" she questioned, hand still stroking him.

will you let me ride you?

His eyes homed in on her, taking in her every movement. Assessing her.

He moved his head forward gently, softly nuzzling her, or at least as much as a dragon could. She took that as a yes and moved forward slowly. Her hand not leaving him. whether to reassure her or him, she did not know. She stoked along his side gently. Moving forward to the ladder to his saddle.

"ok" she muttered to herself, reaching forward to grab the ladder "don't fall, don't fall" she moved up slowly, holding her breath. Making it onto the saddle, he let out a slight shake. Not enough to throw her off, but enough to hurry up. It seemed as if Vermithor was eager to let his new mount fly him.

She sat down slowly, grabbing the reins, "sōvegon".

fly

His ascension was fast, somewhat graceful. Unlike her mother's dragon, he did not glide into the air, sweet and graceful. No Vermithor flew. He flapped his wings to their full length, showing off his size and power. Vermithor wanted to dominate the sky and show his power. He was loud, roaring as if to announce his presence. At first, she thought it was to strike fear and warn other dragons off, but by the quick company of Silverwing, she knew it was a call.

The mated dragons roared upon each other's presence. And then they began to sing. They moved around each other, their voices echoing their movements.

They flew and moved around each other.

She realised then that with one came the other. Much like she and Aemond, perhaps he could claim Silverwing. And they could be like their first riders, she hoped.

She wasn't sure how long they flew, by the time she had even claimed Vermithor the sun had begun to rise, and her parents must be starting to worry. But she could not find it in her to care. They landed outside the entrances to the castle and were quickly greeted by her parents.

"Muña, Kepa" she shouted in greeting. "I claimed him, Muña" she let out excitedly.

"I saw, my love." Her mother spoke, her tone wavering between stern and happy. She knew her mother could not stay mad at her for long, especially with how happy she was.

Her father let out a laugh, "We saw, sweetheart, but you can't keep sneaking out" he tried to say sternly, though his pride shone through his eyes.

"I know, it won't happen again" she muttered, lying.

"hmm" her mother spoke, clearly not believing it "you know, when you lie you look at your feet"

"sorry" she squeaked out, before seeing Jace, her younger brother (by ten moons) run out.

"Senya!" he shouted.

"Did you see? Did you see?" she asked excitedly, as Jace ran up to her and hugged her.

"Yes! Can you take me riding?" he questioned excitedly, Vermax being only four was nowhere near large enough to ride.

"of course," she spoke quickly wrapping her arms around him and spinning in a circle.

Her mother cleared her throat "not until you are older" she spoke " and you missy, will have to hold off on the riding until the dragon masters deem you ready".

Shouts of discontent rang between the two children, "but you claimed Syrax was around my age, and you were allowed to ride her!"

"Yes, but Syrax was much smaller, and Vermithor is much bigger" her mother spoke, pride in her tone when speaking of her dragon.

Visenya only hoped for a bond like her mother and her dragon had.

Ever since claiming her dragon Aemond had tried to distance himself from her. His jealousy strong and their relationship. But she refused to put up with Aemonds actions. Dragging him along with her to meet Vermithor, trying to get Silverwing to bond with him. She did not, but the notion alone made all jealousy he felt disappear. She continued in her efforts to find him a dragon to claim, and whenever he wanted, she would take him out on Vermithor.

If the people of KingsLanding thought, they were close before, then this was a whole new thing.

Alicent, her grandmother, had always liked her. Found her sweet and adored how she cared for Aemond.

Everyone in KingsLanding enjoyed the young princess.

They did not however like her brothers.

At first, she didn't understand, still believing that Ser Laenor was their father. That was until she met Ser Harwin strong. Seeing the way her mother looked at him, the way he looked towards Jace and Luke. The way he had taken her under his wing also and treated her as if she were his own. She knew he was her brother's father, not hers. But neither was Laenor. But she still loved him like he was and treated him as if he was. She was his favourite (another reason for the court to believe she was his) and she was always by his side, and always felt such sorrow when he went off to battle in the steppestones.

She did feel some envy of her brothers, though Ser Harwin loved her as much as he did her brothers, even sneaking off to teach her how to defend herself and swordplay, she could not shake the feeling of jealousy.

Her mother, as much as she loved her, always had a look of resentment when she saw her. She assumed it was because she looked like her father. A man she had no idea who he was a man she could only assume her mother loved. Her mother favoured her brothers, she knew it, lived with it, and resented it. All because she looked like a man whom she had never met. Though being named her mother's heir did quench some of the envy she felt, it still wasn't enough.

Her mother may always be there for her, that was no lie. But unlike with her brothers, there was a hesitance to it.

That was another reason why she wanted a sister, perhaps a sister would understand why she felt the way she did and be treated the same as she was.

But she understood she wouldn't be, no her siblings would all come from a man who loved her mother, and her mother loved back. A man who stuck around.

So, when she overheard, she had a brother, no surprise was seen on her face as she understood nothing would change. That she would be fourth on her mother's list of priorities.

Loved just as much as her brothers, but a hesitance to it.

"Muña" she called, walking down the hallway, towards her mother's chambers.

She had promised her mother she would be there for the birth, wanting to act as support and learn one day what would be a part of her own life (a fact her mother never let her forget).

She ran up to her, quick to greet her new baby brother, her brothers will be very pleased. Her father quickly appeared from another entrance, causing her to run straight into him "ugh, Kepa! Watch where you are going" she groaned, rubbing her nose

He chuckled softly "sorry, little love"

"My, my what happened to you!" her mother exclaimed, "if memory, serves you'd said you'd be her for the birth of the babe?"

She offered a sheepish smile, "Sorry mother, Vermithor wanted to go flying, ask him yourself" nodding her head, it was true to some degree, she wanted to go flying and Vermithor was more than eager to comply.

Her mother hummed in response.

"A boy! I've just heard" her father finally spoke, happily.

"Yes," mother said through pained breaths.

"Can I name him, this time mama?" she said begged. She had a very long list of names and was more than prepared to give her brother a fitting name. as much as she loved Jace and Luke, she hated their names.

Her father patted her head and said "it's up to you mother, love" before turning to her "well done, where are you going?"

"She wants to see him." Her mother hissed, walking shakily up the stairs.

She?

Alicent?

She Shook her head, Alicent had four babes of her own, surely she understands how painful birth is. She rolled her eyes. Perhaps she was getting too old. She was a grandmother after all!

"Now? I'm coming with you"

"Me too!"

"I should hope so," her mother remarked, bitterly.

"Can I hold him, Muña?" she asked, seeing her mother struggling.

Her mother looked down at her and nodded, grateful for the small rest it gave her "of course, my sweet girl"

Her father quickly offered her his arm, which was taken gratefully.

She looked down at her brother, he had the same nose as Luke, brown hair and what she could make out brown eyes. A shame. She had hoped for at least one silver-haired sibling. She was starting to feel like the odd one out.

"Was it terribly painful"

Both mother and daughter turned to look at the other and rolled their eyes.

"I took a lance through the shoulder once," he remarked, unaware of his wife and daughter's actions.

"My deepest sympathies" her mother hissed.

She was completely enchanted with her newest brother, despite his plain features, and simply choose to ignore her father and his attempts at comforting her mother, giving the babe forehead kisses, and cooing at how cute he was, but stopped upon realising he was covered in blood let out a disgusted snort. Her mother chuckled thinking it was directed at her father.

The halls were crowded with court members. Awaiting to see the newest prince. some to see if her mother had had another child sired by her father or another bastard.

Stopping for several members of the court to offer their congratulations to her mother before reaching the queen's chambers. She handed over her brother before bidding her parents farewell.

Whatever was about to happen, she had no desire to see.

And spotting Aemond walking through the corridors meant she didn't want to stick around for much longer.

"AEMOND!" she shouted, running up to him "I have another brother!"

He rolled his eyes, an action he tried to keep from her "hmmm" he said, not caring too much. She and he were walking down the corridor heading towards her family chambers.

"Congratulations Visenya! Oh, that's great news Visenya!" she mocked, putting on a deeper voice.

"Ha Ha, very funny" he spoke, unamused. Arms crossed.

"What does it even matter? Aren't they just another bas-"

"Do NOT-" she interrupted him; a stern look on her face. "They are my brothers, and that is all that matters" she spoke, tone hard, tired of Aemond's attitude. "If you're going to speak about this is will take my leave" she stared him down. Not at wanting to leave. Aemond always apologised, he hated it when he received the silent treatment from her and was often quick to apologise to prevent it.

"Sorry, Senya" he looked down. "what's his name?"

"I don't know, I have ideas, but mother probably won't listen to them!" she let out frustrated "it'll probably be some stupid name like Rhacearys or something!"

They had come up to her family chambers now, the door opened as Ser Harwin and her brothers walked in placing a dragon egg in a fire hearth inside.

"Brothers!" she exclaimed, walking in. Aemond stood by the doorway hesitant to enter.

"princess" Harwin greeted with a warm smile.

"Hello Harwin" she replied, hugging him.

"Senya" both her brothers exclaimed, before moving their eyes to Aemond "uncle," they said curtly, before looking at each other and giggling. Oh, they were up to something!

"Perhaps I should go" Aemond mumbled, moving to leave.

"I – but" she stuttered out, sad, he wanted to leave "I'll see you later? In our secret spot" she whispered the last part, winking terribly as she did so.

Aemond went to laugh but stopped after seeing something over her shoulder. Her brothers most likely. "of course," he mumbled.

"WAIT!" she ran up to him, giving him a quick hug. "BYE!"

Not long after his exit her mother and father entered the room, stopping her from confronting her brothers about whatever their plans with Aemond were.

"Mother look, we choose an egg for the baby" Jace spoke, as their mother moved to sit.

"That looks like the perfect one" she agreed, finally sitting in the chair to rest, as the cover on the eggs pot was lifted.

"We let Luke choose" Jace admitted, as Luke grew a proud smile and thanked him.

"Not every day an egg leaves the dragon pit, princess. I thought it best to escort the lads" Harwin spoke up, his eyes drawn to the babe in her father's arms.

"Laenor and I thank you, commander".

"Another boy, I heard. What a fine knight you are going to make, yes?" Harwin spoke towards the babe.

She stood by her father, looking down at the babe. He had been cleaned up since she last saw him. Much less blood.

"Ser Harwin wishes to be introduced to Joffrey"

"Joffrey?" she questioned, looking between her mother and father "my list had much better names!"

"shush, now," her father whispered, patting her head and moving the babe into ser Harwin's arms.

"wasn't that your friend's name?" she questioned, looking at her father.

He gulped and nodded "Oh! Ok, it's fine then. I forgive you!" she exclaimed. Though she still hoped for a chance to rename him to something much better.

"Father, please may I hold Joffrey?" Luke spoke, trying to grab Joffrey out of Harwin's arms.

Their father tutted, moving her brothers and herself away, dismissing them to their dragon pit lessons.

next chapter

[rosemultitargaryen]

Mirror

Warnings: bondage, breeding kink, oral dem receiving, mirror sex.

Pairing: Husband!Dom!Aemond x Wife!Sub!reader. (Fem)

Summary: "watch me as i worship your body with every inch of mine." Aemond decided to show you just how much he appreciates you.

Word count: 101

The people crowded to see the newly weds at the ball. Aemond by your side, you ascend down the stairs with a worried expression. Your fingers grasped the fabric of his clothes in need of some relief from this newfound anxiety.

"Do you truly think i will let harm come your way?" Aemond's voice calms you slowly, his tone is authoritative yet gentle while his facial expressions are relaxed and fond.

"I do not...everyone is just...never mind." Your words struggle against your quivering lips.

Aemond comes to a halt, turning to stand before you with a gentle hand on your left arm. His other hand grasp your chin, lifting your gaze to his eye. The moment is brief before you notice that everyone is awaiting your arrival from the halls. You clear your throat, pushing past your newly made husband. Your hands grasp at your dress, lifting it to allow access for your legs to move more freely. Although you wish for them to take you elsewhere, you manage to make your way down the staircase by yourself.

The celebration ceremony proceeds, everyone coming to personally congratulate you. You begin to feel more self conscious, seeing these lovely young women with thin hourglass bodies. Yes, Aemond stressed to you that your body is the perfect make for him. However, your mind tells a very different tale.

"My love." His voice pulls you from your sickening thoughts, your hand on your stomach as you look up into his eye.

"Yes?" You ask innocently as if you weren't just thinking of ways to get rid of the weight.

"I can see your thoughts taking over you." Aemond pauses, taking a moment to move forward and grasp your face. "Need i give you a physical example of how much i worship your body?" Aemond rhetorically asks.

You swallow thickly. "No...Aemond leave me be." You dismiss his intentions, brushing past him.

A frown forms on his pale face, his eyebrows furrowing and eyes squinting as he watches you walk toward the washroom. Aemond takes note and waits for you outside, leaning up against the door with his hands crossed over his chest. His hair falling perfectly over his shoulders, tied back into his signature half up half down hairstyle. You walk out of the washroom, your face reddened from the tears. You bump into your husband, his frame blocking you from moving as his hands take you waist firmly.

"Aemond..." you mumble and his head tilts.

Aemond guides you to your now shared chambers. His hands grasping your back as he gently pushes you within the walls of the room. You're taken aback by his forceful actions. His head gestures toward the bed, you follow.

If you had learnt anything from your husband, disobedience is not accepted. You sit on the edge of the bed, hands places on your lap as you wait for the next command.

Aemond trails behind you, kneeling, his hands possess something of a leather consistency. You daren't question his actions, feeling the cool leather trickle down your bare arms. He unclips your gown, watching as it deliciously reveals your figure. Aemond stands and removes a cloth, revealing a mirror in front of you both therefore forcing you to look at your self bare.

"Aemond please, i can't stand to look at myself...please." Although you meant to sound stern your words came to be mere whimpers, ashamed of your body.

The leather whip trails down your front as Aemond kneels back behind you. The action elicits a moan from you, your eyes fluttering to a close as he grazes the material over your nipples. Aemond smirks, moving to your front as he kneels before you. His face is level with your entrance, the feeling of his breath against you makes your squirm.

"Behave." Aemond demands, lifting your legs over his shoulders.

His lips graze your clit, your hands flying to his hair for more control. Aemond's tongue presses against your hole, you force your hips forward.

"So eager, perhaps if you want to act like a whore you should join a pleasure house." He smirks.

The obscurity of his words makes something stir in you. Aemond works magic on you, making your head fall back in ecstasy. Slurs and moans fall from your lips like sweet nectar to Aemond's ears. His tongue laps up all you have to offer. As you are about to reach your release he withdraws his head, kissing you with hunger that overpowers his senses.

His body over powers yours, pressing you against the mattress. Your back arches as Aemond presses his erect member against your folds. You give him a look of permission before he plunges in and your eyes screw shut.

"Aemond...I.." you moan and scratch your nails down his bare back.

His thrusts are slow yet hard, knocking you further up the mattress with every thrust. His hair dangles in front of his face and you lean up to kiss his lips, the feeling of warmth fills you as he continues to snap his hips into yours.

"Ao feel raqagon nykeā million qēlossās issa jorrāelagon." Aemond slurs and you whine, feeling your climax reaching.

He continues his forceful thrusts, kissing your collarbone to add to your pleasure. You kiss his chin, beads of sweat forming on you as your breathing quickens.

"Aemond!" Your legs shake violently as his thrusts grow sloppier.

The coil snaps and you milk his cock, panting and whining as he continues to abuse your entrance for his own pleasure. Your head falls back to the pillows as you feel him release within you, pumping you with his cum. Aemond comes to a halt, making sure ever last drop is bestowed in you.

"You will look so beautiful, round with our child." He purrs.

[dreamlandcreations]

The Bastard Princess

Aemond Targaryen x Daemon's daughter!Reader

• moodboards masterlist •

You were enemies since the moment he claimed Vhagar.

He stole the dragon and you had taken his eye. Both acts are unforgivable in your book.

Being your father's daughter, your temper did not let you rest the case after the king declared it done. While they were preparing to depart, you were fuming on your own, at the beach where the only mother you knew had been buried.

Your anger attracted something dark and sinister.

When the Cannibal had emerged from beyond the cliffs, you thought you were done for but it seemed he had other plans.

After years of dreaming of it, you finally claimed a dragon. And the first thing you did was attack the traitor and the thief. It was only thanks to your father and Caraxes intervening that the young prince could escape.

Even though your wild dragon was almost the size of Vhagar, Caraxes won the fight and got away unscathed as neither you nor the beast in tune with your emotions could either hurt your beloved father or his dragon.

Daemon always cherished you, his eldest, even though you did not have his last name. Your mother was a good friend of his and his Lady wife's, who was one of the women they had fun with, in their years of freely roaming the world. Daemon Targaryen never regretted having you, he was not ashamed of you and taught you to be proud of who you are. A dragon, free even of the name that burdened him with the shackles of his first marriage. And despite loving you unconditionally and as her own, Laena agreed that you would be better off without having their name to tie you down.

You owned the monicker of the 'Bastard Princess' just as proudly as the nickname your father gave you, 'Wild Fire'.

As you grew up, you learned to control your temper but meeting with the one-eyed prince turned you both back into petty children, fighting over a dragon you never really had a desire to own and an eye that you - deep, deep, deep down - truly regretted taking.

But the king, who was still more present than anyone in his family gave him credit for, saw beyond your anger, witnessing the regret every time you realised just how much your words cut into Aemond, deeper than your blade ever could. And Viserys smiled at the glimpses he saw his son gave you when he thought no one could see.

After the little time he had spent with his extended family, the king realized that after his death there would be no stopping their fighting. He hoped, of course, that his daughter could take the throne without an issue but he was also not as blind as they thought.

Looking down on the balcony, he saw you and Helaena sitting in the garden, while his son admired you from a distance.

Viserys smiled, a decision came to his heart rather than his weary mind and he ordered the Grand Maester to him, preparing a future where his family is untied by the two of you.

None of you knew of his last declare.

Only a day after the king's death, the throne taken by his eldest son, you received a message from the Grand Maester, who was residing outside the palace, in a somewhat neutral territory, as the guest of the Tyrells'.

Mere hours after your fight with Aemond and his dragon, and almost losing Luke, you prepare to make a journey, not knowing it would change your life forever.

• moodboards masterlist •

[lovelywetdreamer]

💜🌸~A Shameful Queen~🌸💜

A queen should always be a good example for her people not a shameless whore.

Ameond lets Aegon drinks himself to deep slumber, so he could fuck you infront of Aegon sleepy body.

He loves sucking your neglected breasts while pumping two fingers out of your cunt on his brother's throne. A throne that should be his.

Eats you out infront of Aegon while he is sloppy drunk. He won't remember seeing his brother sucking on his wife's sensitive throbbing clit.

Make sure you walking with a limp after he gets done

Ameond will plays in your hair while your mouth is fill to the brim of his cock.

Let you take control over him once in the while

He know everyone deserves to have a control over something. His seven inches cock was yours to control

"You shouldn't be a queen, but my personal slut" he whispers in your ears while Aegon is standing next to you.

He only lets you hear him whimpers and moans. I feels like he too shy to moans.

He makes sure to takes his eyepatch off. If you are going to be his secret whore, you were gonna see all of the prince.

After he get done pumping his seeds into you, he throws your panties in the air so Vhagar can burned them.

He wants his cums dripping from your cunt to your legs.

He not rough with you after he got done fucking you. He places kisses on your body and wash you himself. He lets you sleep on his chest while he runs his hand through your hair.

You are Aegon's queen. Aemond is your king.

I been minding to write about him. He is just my favorite character from House of Dragon. The creator on the show knows how to write him.

[cardansriddle]

it's not funny how downright obsessed and feral i am over every villain ever. he's a horrible, vile, murderous man? so what? he's just misunderstood and i can fix him.

[helaelaemond]

(boyfriend poll here)

[genz420]

The Fire That Burns With Us - Chapter 83: Queer Customs.

Master List

Pervious Part - Next Part

138 - Harrenhal  

“I must thank you for inviting me, Your Grace,”

“Visenya,” Rob calls out to Visenya, gaining her attention from the food she is staring at on her plate. 

Visenya looks away from her food; she had been staring at it, hoping that the meat would magically cut itself and that the bread would rip itself apart.  Visenya didn’t want to ask Aemond or Ben to do it for her, not feeling comfortable enough in front of Rob’s wife, Alla.  

As soon as she looks away from her plate, Aemond pushes his plate to the side and takes her, doing what she wants without her having to ask.  Aemond knows Visenya well enough that she would not bruise her pride and would sooner go hungry than ask for help.  

“What?” Visenya asks as she looks between Rob and his wife.  

Alla is a beautiful woman, maybe a year older than Rob himself, but she doesn’t look like she is.  Unlike the four other people sitting at the table, it is clear that she has had a life away from violence and war and that she had also grown up where the sun shines and people spend time outdoors.  

The new lady of Riverrun is beautiful but not Visenya type and far from either Aemond or Bens.  

“Alla was speaking to you,” Rob answers Visenya as he notices that Ben puts more vegetables onto the plate in front of Aemond, who approves of the knight's actions.  

“Oh,” Visenya says before she looks at the frightened lady, offering her a kind smile.    “Sorry, I am not very used to people addressing me by those titles,”

“Should get used to it,” Ben tells Visenya as he moves across the table to pour more mead into Visenya's cup, even past the look both her and Rob give him.   “All those highborn fuckers will be calling by them soon,”

“Ben,” Rob warns, he doesn’t mind that kind of language when it is just them, but he doesn’t think his lady wife would appreciate such language.  

Alla ignores her husband's tone. Instead, she watches as Aemond moves Visenya's plate back in front of her, and instead of his hands going back to eat his food, Aemond's hand goes behind Visenya’s neck; she watches as a genuine smile graces Visenya's face as she looks at Aemond.  

Rob and Ben have a little stare-off with one another, waiting for the other to back down, and Ben gets Rob to break eye contact as he swiftly kicks the lord's shin.  Rob jumps a little in his seat before looking at Alla, who is watching Visenya and Aemond, with a smile on her face; it is obvious to anyone who even glances at the two that they are in love.   

“Sorry,” Ben apologises to Alla, pulling her attention away from the Targaryens.  “Forgive my language, my lady.  My parents died before they could teach me any manners, and both of my siblings have far worse mouths than me,”

Visenya sniffles her laugh as she watches the colour drain from Alla's face at Ben's words, and Rob just sighs as he looks down.  

“You do not need to call me by my titles.  Visenya is fine,” Visenya tells Alla, gaining her attention.  She wants the lady to feel welcomed and knows it will take some time for the lady to get used to the trio dynamic, just like it had taken Aemond some time to get used to it.  

“Are you sure?” Alla asks, not wanting to offend Visenya and there forth Aemond as well.  

Like many others, the prince scares Alla, always quiet and watching.  Alla has heard the stories about what is under the eyepatch, how he has no eye and only takes it off in a battle to scare and shock his enemies.  Aemond has only spoken to Alla a handful of times, often when he has come to relieve her of watching his children, but each time Alla is quick to leave the room, not to anger the man.  The one time she had stayed in the room longer than usual, Aemond seemed to be a different person with his children, and now Alla can see that he is the same as Visenya.  

“Indeed, you married Rob, so you are family,” Visenya answers Alla as she picks some of the bread off her plate, and Aemond watches her closely.  

“I must ask how my father is?” Alla asks Visenya.  She has been worried about her father and brother since the news of Visenya travelling to the Reach, worried they might have gotten hurt because of the fighting.  

Visenya swallows the lump in her throat at the mention of the Reach.  Even if Daeron had stabbed her, she can’t imagine how the prince must be dealing with losing his dragon.  If either Morghon or Cannibal had been hurt, much less killed, then she wouldn’t know what to do.  Aemond shifts in his chair, he loves his brother, but when he gets his hands on him for hurting Visenya, he will no longer be the crippled brother.  

“Good, from what I can remember.  Highgarden is a truly beautiful place, and the Reach only matches that beauty,” Visenya answers, biting back the memory of Daeron’s betrayal.   “Perhaps after this, all is over. Then I might give you a ride there,”

Rob looks at Visenya, he wants so badly for Alla and his friends to get along, but he knows that they can be overwhelming and don’t usually follow traditions or what is proper.  Visenya and Aemond had been good so far, keeping their hands to each other for the most part, but as Aemonds hand moves away from the back of Visenyas neck and disappears under the table, Rob can’t help but worry.   

“On dragon's back?” Alla asks, and Visenya nods; she knows that riding a dragon is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, and not many people would turn it down.  

“Morghon is gentle and looks far scarier than he is,”  Visenya assures Alla before looking at Rob.   “Your husband has flown on him multiply times,”

“You never told me that,” Alla tells Rob and the lord looks at his wife, his mouth opening and closing like a fish.  Alla had already been worried about how close Rob and Visenya are, and the fact that he didn’t tell her about going on a dragon ride with Visenya might not have been the best choice.  

“Nyke pendagon issa isse,” Aemond whispers to Visenya, his lips brushing, and Visenya leans back in her chair as she looks at Aemond.  

I think he is in trouble.

Visenya bites back her smile as she feels Aemonds fingers tap against the skin of her thigh, she knows that if anyone were to see them, they would be appealed by the action, but that just thrilled her more.  

“Kesā sagon hae sȳrī lo aōha ondos daoriot keligon,” Visenya tells Aemond, her voice above a whisper, and she can see Ben choke on his drink before looking to the two Targaryens.  

You will be as well if your hand doesn't stop.

Aemond pulls his hand away from Visenya before finally picking at the food on his plate, he knows that it is risky to be so bold, but the way his heart was thumping did something to him.  

Alla looks away from Rob and towards Visenya and Aemond, making Visenya think that the lady was somehow fluent in Valyrian and had heard what they were saying.  

“Is that Valyrian?” Alla asks. She had never heard the language before, but it was almost intoxicating to listen to it.  

“Yes.  Forgive my husband and me; we tend to slip into it often,” Visenya answers; she doesn’t want to make Alla feel unwelcomed because she and Aemond are talking in a language she doesn’t know. 

“It is a beautiful language,” Alla compliments as she picks up her cup.  “Who taught you both?”

“I learnt from the maester,” Aemond answers first.  

“My father and grandsire,” Visenya tells Alla; part of her doesn’t know if Aemond would react at the mention of the late king or the fact that he would take the time to teach her but not him.  

“Are there any little pet names that you two have?” Alla asks, the language is interesting, and she hopes that one day she will be able to learn it.  She had heard Aemond calling the twins by a few different terms and them calling him “Kapa” and often asking for “muña.”  

“Ñuha dōnas and Perzītsos for Laenor and Daenys,” Visenya answers, enjoying answering questions.  “They mean ‘My sweets’ and ‘Little Flame’.  My father used to call me Ñuha dōnas,” 

Visenya smiles slightly at the memory, and the three men look around the table at one another.  It wasn’t often that Visenya would talk about Laenor, even with Aemond, so her sharing details with Alla surprises them.  

Alla looks at Aemond, noticing that he has been silent for the most part, but she wants to know the terms he calls the twins.  

“And you, Prince Aemond.  Have any little nicknames?” Alla asks, and the prince takes a moment before smiling at himself.  

“Ñuha dōna orvorta for her Grace,” Aemond answers, and Visenya looks at Aemond with wide eyes.  

“Aemond!” Visenya scolds Aemond as Ben booming laughter echoes in the room.  Aemond sits back in his chair with a small smile as he looks at Visenya, almost innocently asking what is wrong with his words.  

Rob watches Ben trying to stop himself from laughing, but the knight's face and neck are red as he covers his mouth as looks down at his plate.  Alla looks between the three people that can speak Valyrian, wanting to know what Aemond has said, and from the fact that Visenya's neck is flushed, she can tell that the name isn’t a sweet nickname. 

“What does it mean?” Alla asks as she watches Ben clear his face from the trees that are running down his face.  

“I wouldn’t want to sully your ears with my husband's words,” Visenya answers as she looks away from Aemond and back to Alla.  “And to think I used to teach you the language,”

“I thought the maesters taught him,” Alla tells Visenya.  

“Yes, but I used to try and teach it to him, do you remember?” Visenya asks Aemond, looking towards him, but Aemond just looks at Visenya, admiring her in the warm light of the candles around the room.  

“I do remember after I used to help you with your sword fighting,” Aemond recalls, his lips turning up at the memory.  

“By Blackwater Bay,” Visenya adds, not hiding her smile like Aemond.  

“So you both grew up together?” Alla asks, wanting to know more about their relationship. 

“For a few years, and then after my brother, Joffrey, was born, then I had to leave for Dragonstone,” Visenya answers; she doesn’t know how she feels talking about her childhood.  She misses it, issues similar times, and doesn’t want to think that she will never see her little brother again or her grandmother.  

Talking about her childhood would also lead to talking about her father, and as much as Visenya doesn’t want to admit it to herself, she doesn’t remember much of her father.  She can barely remember what he looks like and only remembers his specific memories.  

“And what did you prefer?” Alla asks as she picks at her food.  “King’s Landing or Dragonstone?”

“I felt at home where he was,” Visenya jokes as she looks at Aemond, and she can hear Ben make a gagging sound as she looks back at Alla.  “But I always felt at home on Driftmark,”

Alla looks between Visenya and Aemond, the prince judging Ben before returning to his food.  Alla can’t help but find it weird, it is clear how much they love each other, but to the rest of Westeros, the customs of the Valyrian houses are strange and not something they would do.  Alla can even stomach the thought of marrying her brother or uncle, but to the Targaryens, it means nothing.  

“You two don’t find it weird?” Alla asks, letting her curiosity get the better of her, and Rob watches Alla, wondering what she means.  

“What weird?” Visenya asks, not knowing if she is talking about the fact that she thinks Driftmark is her home or something else. 

“That you are, you know, what niece and uncle?” Alla asks, and both Visenya and Aemond shift uncomfortably at her words. 

“Oh,” Visenya says, and Rob and Ben look at each other.  Not once have they ever dared mention the relationship, Visenya had explained to them how it is different for them years back, and it took some time, but they understand it now.  

“Hmm,” Aemond says as he stares down Alla, making the lady shift uncomfortably under his intense gaze.  Rob likes his wife, and he can tell Aemond is very close to ending her life for her words. 

“Alla,” Rob warns Alla, making her look at her husband before returning to the two Targaryens.  

“Forgive me, I just-”

“Targaryens have queer customs, so no,” Visenya cuts Alla off; she knows that people not part of the Valyrian house do not understand, and the way Alla looks at her makes her feel ashamed.  

“Something I will have to get used to,” Alla says, and Visenya looks back at her.  

Visenya and Aemond had made a deal with Rob to unite their houses, and they couldn’t do that unless Rob had a child.  Now that he has a wife, they had been expecting news of Alla being with child for a while.  

“She is with child?” Visenya asks Rob, and Ben looks between Alla and Rob, looking at her still flat stomach with narrows eyes like if he tries hard enough, then he might be able to see the babe in her stomach.  

“We were planning on telling-”

Neither Ben nor Visenya allows Rob to finish his sentence before they are both out of their chairs and barreling towards the Lord with no regard for their safety.   Ben reaches Rob first, pulling the lord out of his chair before Visenya tackles them both; the force and unexpected weight of Visenya makes both Rob and Ben stumble on their feet, with Ben readying himself to take the full force of the group once they feet the ground.  

“Visenya!” Aemond shouts as he stands out of his chair, worried that Visenya might have hurt herself or one of her past injuries.  

Alla looks away from the prince, not used to the sheer amount of emotion and the reaction from the once quiet and reserved prince, and to her Lord husband and his friends, who are on the ground laughing on top of one another.  Aemond quickly moves around the table and towards the group, Ben now helping Visenya and Rob up off the ground.  

“You little fucker, why didn’t you tell us sooner?” Visenya asks, all sense being proper in front of Alla gone.  

“We are at war?” Rob answers, but his voice is filled with uncertainty.  He had wanted to wait until Alla was in the clear about not having a miscarriage, but she had told Rob that they were going to say to his friends tonight.  

“Horseshit- Aemond, I am fine,” Visenya tells Aemond as she feels Aemond feel over her stomach and arms for any sense of her being hurt. “This is amazing news,”

“Trying naejot mazverdagon ñuha prūmia keligon.  Daor concern syt aōha, sepār hae skori īlin riñar,” Aemond whispers to Visenya as he holds onto her waist; he is not going to let her go again.   

Trying to make my heart stop—no concern for your own safety, just like when we were children. 

“I’m fine,” Viseenya assures Aemond as she gives him a quick kiss on his cheek.   “Kostilus ao should gūrogon hen ñuha grēza sepār naejot mazverdagon sure,”

You should take off my dress to make sure.

“Now I will throw up,” Ben mumbles to himself before he pulls Rob in for another hug.  

Visenya looks away from Aemond and toward Alla, who seems still startled by the commotion.  Visenya smiles at the lady as she tries to walk towards her, but Aemond doesn’t let go of her, keeping his hands snugly on Visenya's hips.  Visenya rolls her eyes at Aemonds actions but turns her body towards Alla as she leans back on Aemond.  

Visenya and Aemond let out a hum of contentment as she does so, and the grip on her only tightens.  Aemond feels he can’t let her go, or she might hurt herself again.   

“Congratulations, My Lady,” Visenya tells Alla as she offers her a kind smile.  She knows what it is like to be happy but overwhelmed at the news of a pregnancy.  

“Thank you,” Alla thanked Visenya as she stands up from her chair, and Rob rangles his way out of Ben's hug to go to her side.  “I look forward to our family becoming one,”

Aemond stiffens at her words, yes, both he and Visenya had agreed with Rob that they would unite their houses, but it is too soon for him to think of one of his children leaving to marry someone.  Visenya feels Aemond stiffens and leans more onto Aemond, her hands resting on his.  

“It already is,” Visenya assures Alla.  

– – 

“What's wrong?” Visenya asks Aemond as she looks around the table for some more mead; the night at long since died with Ben,  Rob and Alla going back to their rooms for the night, but Aemond hadn’t seen as eager to return to their shared bed chambers.  

The truth is that Aemond was enjoying watching Visenya putter around the warm room, often watching her chest rise and fall with each breath and the soft hum as she walked.  He knows that when they return to their room, she will want to go to bed, but Aemond wants to spend as much time with Visenya as he can.  

“Hmm,” Aemond answers, and Visenya stops walking, looking towards Aemond before stepping in front of him and giving him a questioning look.  

Aemond looks down at Visenya, watching as she studies his face for something that would tell her what is wrong.  Visenya is used to Aemond giving other people non-verbal responses but not her.  

“Don’t hmm me,” Visenya tells Aemond as she leans her chin on his chest, looking up at him.  Aemond can’t help the small smile as he rests her hand on Visenya's hips and pulls her closer.  “Tell me what’s troubling you,”

Aemond should have known better than to try and find something from Visenya, she has always been able to tell when something is wrong, and he never wants to keep things from her.  Aemond knows 

“What if they don’t have a girl?  What if they have a boy?” Aemond asks; he knows that Rob and Alla want their child to marry one of their children, but he doesn’t want Daenys to marry Rob's child, and it was already a lot to agree for the betrothment between Aenar and their child if it is a girl.  

“I’m sure Rob is planning on having more than this child,” Visenya tells Aemond, knowing that Rob wants a large family.  For his children to have siblings, unlike him.  

“What if they want Daenys?” Aemond asks; he doesn’t want to lose his little girl.  

“Daenys is already betrothed to Rickon,” Visenya answers; even if Cregan isn’t supporting them, she wouldn’t call off the betrothment until Cregan decided to get involved.  

“And what if Rob wants us to break that and have Daenys marry his son?” Aemond asks Visenya, the possibilities are flying through his mind, and he can’t help but feel slightly overwhelmed by them.  

“We won’t,” Visenya assures him; she wouldn’t do that to Cregan and the Starks.  Visenya smiles at Aemond as she bites her lip to stop smiling.  “Or maybe we will have another daughter,”

Aemond perks up at that.  He and Visenya had agreed that Aenar would probably be their last child, not wanting to risk Visenya's life again and that Visenya didn’t like being pregnant.   But the genuine smile on her face tells him she is being serious, not a single sign that she is joking or getting his hopes up.  

“I thought you only wanted three?” Aemond finally gathers that course and his voice to ask Visenya.  

“I did, but I must say that making children is fun.  Don’t you agree?” Visenya asks Aemond, but he says nothing in return, just watching for the slightest sign that Visenya is joking or getting his hopes up.  “Why so quiet? Do you not enjoy fucking me-”

Aemond cuts Visenya off with a kiss, passionate and full of love.  The kind of kiss that some people will never get to have in their life, one that screams ‘I love you’ without words and sends shivers through the receiver's body.  Aemond isn’t always great with his words, but he can show Visenya just how much he loves her.  

Visenya can’t help but giggle against Aemonds lips, the tight, bruising grip on her hips sends pleasure through Visenya, and she doesn’t care that her handmaidens will give her questioning looks when they help bathe her.  She would rather Aemond help than some women she doesn’t know.  

“You have a wicked tongue,” Aemond breathlessly tells Visenya as they nudge through noses together.  

Everything about Visenya is intoxicating.  From her wild nature to the fact that she never seems to listen to Aemond when it concerns her health and safety.  Her smell, her taste, how she feels around his cock.  Aemond loves anything about her, from the scars on her body to the marks she has gotten from her pregnancies.  

“I do,” Visenya agrees as she slightly moves her face away from Aemonds.  “Tell me how much you enjoy it,”

Aemond waits a moment, thinking about what he could say to shock his wife or stun her for a moment.  Aemond moves off from leaning on the table and moves so that Visenya is the one doing so.  Aemond gently pushes Visenya against the table, making her move up to sit on it, her dress riding up her legs and the silt exposing her legs.  

Aemond moves to stand between her legs, one hand going to the newly exposed skin.  His callused and scarred are rough against the smooth skin of her thigh; Aemond uses his other hand to take off his eye patch, knowing that Visenya hates when he wears it when they are intimate.  

Aemond could bend her over this table and fuck her like she was a common whore, and he knows that she would thank him after.  That she would be a good girl and take him perfectly.  Or he could worship her body and treat her like the Queen she is.  So many possibilities and opportunities to have his wife however he wants.  

“Hmm,” Aemond answers as he moves his hand up Visenya's body to push her further up the table.   “Want me to tell you how much I enjoy fucking you and how much pleasure that tongue brings me when I have your mouth stuffed full of my cock.  How I wished I could lock us in our chambers so that I could fuck you until it was obvious that you are a whore for my cock?”

Visenya had not been expecting Aemond to answer her, she had wanted to tease him and then maybe have him sit down so that she could ride him, but now she understands that she would most likely not do that.  That Aemond would be the one to take control tonight.  

Aemonds hands are quick to push Visenya's dress down her shoulders, and if they were in their chambers, then he would have just ripped the front of the dress, but he knows that they have to leave this room, and he doesn’t think that Visenya would want to walk around the halls without a dress.  

Aemond smirks as Visenya helps push the top of her dress down, giving Aemond accuse to her chest.  Aemond moves his head down and into the crook of Visenyas neck; the warmth of her skin is pleasant against his already warm face.  Visenya happily moves her hair over her shoulder and moves her head so Aemond has more room.  

If anyone were to walk into the room, they would see Aemond with his head buried in Visenyas neck while his fingers play with her nipple and group her breast.  Visenya's head back as she pulls Aemond closer to her body.  

“Qogralbar,” Visenya whimpers to herself, but that doesn’t satisfy Aemond.  

Fuck.

Aemond pulls his lips away from Visenya, admiring the already red marks on her red that match the previous marks he had inflicted on her neck the day prior.  What makes Aemond's breeches tighter is that Visenya never seems to cover them up, not with her clothes or hair.  That she wears them with pride, and when those lords look at her, they know that he is the one that just to fuck her and make her feel pleasure, not them.  

Visenya lets out a noise of displeasure as Aemond removes his hands from her breast and takes a step away.  Tits out and a pout on her lips, his eyes flicker between the scar on her lip that matches his and her chest.   

“Fuck what?” Aemond asks, teasing Visenya.    “Want me to fuck your mouth or your cunt? Or do you want me to fuck you with my tongue until you are shaking and begging for my cock,”

“Now, who is the one with the wicked tongue?” Visenya asks as she tries to grip Aemond's jacket to pull him back to her.  

Visenya pulls Aemond down to her level and captures his lips with hers, a kiss full of need and Aemond gently pushes Visenya to lie against the somewhat empty table.  His hands move to his hands to her hips. She is just resting on the table, and Visenya wraps her legs around his waist, pulling Aemond closer to where she needs him.  

Aemond lets go of Visenya's hips and grabs onto her wrists, moving to pin them beside her head but careful enough not to hurt her.  Aemond pulls away from the kiss, but Visenya tries to kiss him again.  

“Ao gīmigon Avy jorrāelan, paktot?” Aemond asks, and Visenya laughs slightly as she rests her head on the table.  

You know I love you, right?

“Nyke gīmigon,” Visenya answers as she kisses Aemond again, smiling against his lips. “Avy jorrāelan tolī,”

I know.  I love you too.  

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

@tempt-ress @kassies-take

[thewitchthattellstales]

She knew. She was ready, but nothing could ever prepare a woman for it. For the violation she has to agree upon or else she will be stigmatized with rumors that were nothing close to the truth. 

the legend of the fire flower and the one eyed prince

[mslothbrok]

Ewan young! And this is too funny not to share. 😂

[rise-my-angel]

Team Black talks a lot of a shit about everything that happened on Driftmark, as if they didn't also watch a tiny 10 year old boy claim the biggest, most battle seasoned dragon in the world like it wasn't some absolute King behavior.

[lovelykhaleesiii]

Heyo love, can i request a smut where Mean Aemond fucks his innocent wife on the garden, please? ily ❤️

heya lovely, this idea...this holds a special place in my heart (just like you) 💓 hope you enjoy this x

A Flower to Ruin...

PAIRING: Cruel!Aemond Targaryen x fem!Tyrell!Innocent!Reader

WORDS: 2,516.

WARNINGS: mean/cruel!Aemond, degradation kink, female f*ngering, p in v sexual intercourse, swearing, NSFW. MINORS DNI.

A/N - I keep getting carried away, this was meant to be a small blurb, no plot & yet… here I am rambling away.

Having married the notorious one-eyed Prince, was a reality you did not dream possible. Although your House [Tyrell] was a meek one, it could and would gratefully offer endless wealth, a highly valued asset to the Crown, undoubtedly. Your betrothal nonetheless, was planned, a guaranteed means that further heightened the riches now shared with the newly appointed King, Aegon the Second, for the betterment of the realm.

And as romanticised as you'd dreamt of your surreal betrothal to the Prince Regent: such idyllic thoughts and daydreams that contaminated your mind, were vanquished with reality. For your husband, was a cruel man indeed...

Aemond Targaryen, was very much an unnerving man. Of all the rumours and whispers that would occasionally reach your innocent ears, of the infamous Kinslayer, you were keen to ignore such hearsay, remaining blissfully optimistic about your fiancé. However, much to your dismay, your initial impression of Aemond was one that stirred an internal debate inside: was it terror or lust that made you feel so uneasy around him?

The lingering yet blatant wound of his absent eye, although hidden beneath the feeble leather of an eyepatch, the red trail of a healed scar remained... And was somewhat chilling. Being frank to yourself, it did not falter your attraction towards him, however. He had a handsomely, chiselled face, the ethereal Targaryen features were most exemplified on him. Even from a distance, you could tell that his height would tower over you, his mass lean and toned. Just by his sheer demeanour, one could easily decipher that he was a warrior trained.

And when he spoke, he was stoic and monotonous, it seemed he was not impressed nor was he disappointed. The man was an enigma, impossible to decipher his raw emotions and pure intent. Was he pleased with you? Was he satisfied with this arrangement? Would he ultimately love you?

Overtime, in the following months proceeding the lavish, royal wedding, it remained impossible to say. Aemond, much to your relief, took pride in performing his husbandly duties. However, you'd grown familiar with his approach towards you, it was one filled with almost a sweet bitterness, gaining amusement in intimidating and humiliating you, and yet to some level he remained cautious with you, as though not to completely frighten you off. He kept you lingering for more, like bait on a hook.

It drove you mad, yet you'd never forged the courage to confront him, for fear that you would displease him enough to leave, wounding his ego. In truth, he was not a violent nor terrible husband either, he was committed. You had no plausible reason to complain. And yet, he treated you as though you were an inanimate object, his property, hurrying to his beckon call always, like some lamb to its shepherd.

Even in his absence, you had missed him. Only gone for a few days, for a hunting round with the young lords and knights of the realm, you'd disappointingly concluded that your feelings were one-sided. He did not miss you, how could he miss you? Aemond showed no sentimental attachment towards you, except that you were bound his loyal wife, before the laws of men and Gods... Or so you had convinced yourself.

****

"So I thought I'd find you here, my rose-" The sudden, abruptness of his deep voice had caught you off guard. Startling you, as you hastily cast your attention towards him from the open book resting in your lap. Slowly, he'd strolled towards you, hands firmly placed behind his back, as he found you nestled beneath a hidden canopy, sprawled on a silk, picnic duvet, across a freshly, cut grass-patch, beneath the cool shade offered by the blossom tree above.

"F-Forgive me, husband. I did not realise you had returned... Had I known I-" You stutter, as you attempt to gather yourself to stand.

Aemond stops you, surprisingly insisting you remain where you are, as he himself cowers down instead, laying himself beside you.

A few seconds of sheer silence are exchanged, as Aemond's attention shuffles from the stems of grass he distractedly picks at, to the neat, floral bushes onwards. You observe him longingly, a warmth fills your heart from his much anticipated presence, secretly embracing his return, as a thoughtless, faint smile appears on your face.

"H-How was the hunt, my Prince?" You utter, in a meek attempt to initiate some kind of conversation. Aemond looks onto you sternly, still his face remains stoic, although somewhat irritated, as he huffs in annoyance.

"Abysmal...Most of the bastards drunk, only myself, Criston and a few of the Kingsguard actually went out for the hunt. Waste of time when I could have been-" Aemond pauses, his words stopping in his tracks, as his gaze returns to fall upon you. His only surviving eye, lingers over your body, before resting upon your face once more. You could've sworn you saw a slight upturn curve of a smile, although one filled with that familiar glint of arrogance.

"When I could have been fucking my needy, whore of a wife."

The harshness yet deviousness of his words had caught you by surprise, feeling your cheeks turn scarlet, as you flustered and adjusted in your seated position. You felt a dull, aching pang between your inner thighs, a familiar feeling that you'd grown weakly accustomed to.

Gods, what was only a few short days, felt like long, agonising weeks since your husband had filled you. You were indeed, needy for him, for the sex had always been a pleasurable event, something you'd often looked forward to for many nights to come since your consummation. Although, this being the first since you'd both been spared some time and distance apart, you'd grown even more susceptible for his cock. Desperately craving for him during the dark, lonesome hours in the night, you'd attempt to sate yourself in his stead, however failed miserably...

It was not the same.

Remaining speechless, you’d often found yourself at a loss of words, or stuttering ambiguous sounds as Aemond tended to you. His rough hand slowly reaches up, caressing your clothed thigh, before hiking up the dress where his hand disappears beneath the garment. The flesh of his palm meets the sensitive spot of your inner thigh as he begins to trace soft circles.

“Gods, how I’ve missed you. Surrounded by all those impotent cocks, envisioning you begging for me, was the only thing keeping me sane.”

Your eyes begin to flutter before shutting, the tenderness of his words in conjunction to the lightness of his fingers, sent shivers down your spine. Sensing his hand etching closer towards your entrance, tugging at the undergarment, as the tips of his fingers graze over your moist folds.

"Although, it seems you might have been suffering as well..." His tone was low, yet amused. The smirk now prominent on his chiselled face, however was fleeting, as he returned to yet another stiff expression.

"Part your legs," He firmly uttered. From the early months of the marriage you'd learnt not to disobey, for your husband was a firm believer in justified punishment.

Doing as told, like any meek, obedient wife, you'd obeyed, spreading your legs, distant enough for his arm to snake over your thigh closest to him, where his hand remained over your cunt. Laying his weight over you, as he remained turned facing you, laid by your side, and you still propped up. The novel that you'd deeply immersed yourself in a few, mere minutes ago, now strewed across the grass, its existence no longer of significance.

"Hmm-Needy, little thing aren't you? My deprived whore-"

As he spoke, the tips of his fingers began to plunge in further into your folds, slowly encircling inside.

"Tell me, my sweet, pathetic, little wife, how desperate have you been for me? For my cock, hmm?"

"A-Aemond-" You thoughtlessly stutter, your pelvis motioning forwards, urging for more of his touch.

"Can't even think for herself, look at you. You were wet before I even began... Tell me, whore, have you touched yourself in my absence?"

His fingers delved deeper, now two, long digits inserted, pumping in and out in slow, sensual motions. His fingers massaging your walls within, as your wetness began to pool.

"N-No-" You lie, fearful that Aemond would think less of you, that you were incapable of living freely and dignified without him, even if it was for a few, short days. Aemond relished in how you'd hopelessly yearn for him, dependent on him, a loyal wife vulnerable for her dutiful husband. He loved to remind you repeatedly, growing hard thinking that only he could make you feel this way.

"Lies-" He venomously spat, urging his fingers to plunge in deeper, with a greater verocity and speed than before, causing you to jerk involuntarily, earning a loud, thoughtless moan.

"Quiet, you whore- Should someone hear us, you will be left cockless and deprived. Now tell me the truth-"

Even in the short span of time Aemond had grown acquainted with you, he knew you unlike anyone else in the realm. To some deeper, more meaningful degree, you had appreciated how intimately he had grown to know you, and often, he would use it to his advantage. Reading you like some feckless book in the citadel's library.

"Y-Yes, husband," You quietly stutter, your arms stretched back supporting you, as your legs remained widely apart. Gods, was it destined that you'd found the perfect, hidden spot to read in the gardens this fine day...

"Mhmm- Just as I'd thought. Now tell me... How badly do you want me to fuck you senseless?" Just as the last word had escaped his lips, his fingers shoved in deeper, the knuckles of his hand now grazing the entrance of your drooling cunt.

"So-So very much-" You hiccuped, your breath hitching in your throat audibly, as you attempt to steady your breathing, your chest heaving, accentuating your plump breasts and slight cleavage. Aemond's eye [whenever you granted yourself the chance] you had noticed it flicker from your face to your blatant show of breasts: undoubtedly, most infatuated by them.

"You are going to need to convince me harder than that, that was pathetic, even for you- Beg for me, my insolent wife."

"Hmm-" You'd hopelessly moan, your walls throbbing against your husbands steady, yet swift motions.

"Please, Aemond- I-I need you. It-It's been so very hard, these past few days. Y-You’d been gone for s-so long-" His pacing eases, as he insists on you to speak coherently, eager to hear what you have to say.

"F-Fuck- I need you inside of me. I could not do what you can, I-I cannot satisfy myself, as y-you do so-so very well.”

As your head was lunged backwards, looking upwards towards the rustling leaves, flowers and sky above, you casted your attention once more downwards, gazing upon Aemond, whom remained cockily smiling up at you. Ever so pleased with your honest response, it seemed.

"Hmm."

Shoving his fingers in deeper, his pace now had hasten: shifting in your seat, as your hips instinctively bucked forward. You could feel his fingers just grazing over your tight, sweet spot, with each pump, earning more mindless moans and pleas for his name [or more so indirectly, for his cock].

Without a second to waste, Aemond pulled his hand from your drenched cunt, causing you to moan from the sudden release of the tension. His fingers glazed in your wetness, sparing a moment to take in your scent lingering from his fingers, before seating himself up on his knees, between your thighs. Hiking your dress up, as he eagerly pulled your private garments down, he'd adjusted his position swiftly, undoing his trousers in a haste simultaneously.

Cowering down over you, as he softly laid your back down against the linen and grass, his 'clean' hand reached over towards your face, his thumb gently stroking the side of your flustered cheek. He'd often spare a sacred moment, closely watching you from above, during sex, as you both immerse yourself in each other's attention, taking in all the fine details up close and personal.

"No need to say more, my wife-" Feeling his hardened cock, grazing your glazed entrance, that same potent, aching sensation stirring once more.

"You need not suffer any longer, and neither must I. I have taunted you and myself enough."

In a swift yet vigorous motion, Aemond thrust his long, pulsating cock deep inside, burying it cosily within. Your tight walls had immediately clenched onto him, like a key latched to a lock. You were made just for him, it was undeniable and he knew it.

"Fuck-" He'd breathlessly growled, as you unsteadily pant against his sturdy pace. His backward and forward motions felt unruly, as he heavily laid on top of you, your knees brought up, instinctively wrapping around his lean waist.

"Feels so tight around me, look at how much you crave for me, whore. No matter how often I pry you open, how much I fuck or fill you up. You are always desperate for more-" One hand rests on the ground for standing support, just beside where your head rests.

"Selfish, little whore. Your body still aches for me, and it naturally shows. You cannot hide it from me-"

You could muster no logical words nor any comprehensible thoughts, incoherent and ignorant to any lingering, perverted eyes. You had missed your husband dearly. Each breathless word that spilled from his filthy mouth in this very precise moment, was the honest truth, there was no point to deny or retaliate against him.

"I-I do not intend to, ever," You breathlessly whimper, gripping Aemond's cloaked, muscular shoulders, feeling your nails dig into his dense clothes.

Earning a menacing, short chuckle from Aemond, his raw thrusts grew faster and regular, his breathing heavier and louder. You could feel yourself edging closer and closer until reaching the final, much anticipated peak. Unconsciously lunging yourself closer, burying your face into Aemond's chest, as you continued to grip onto him tightly for support. Feeling his weight, in return falling into you, pinning you down, as his cum shoots itself inside, coating your walls as he satisfyingly fills you up with his seed.

As you both hastily cleaned and redressed yourselves up as best as you could, you'd noticed the grass patches where your weight and hand prints had rested, left a noticeable imprint on the ground, triggering a faint, heartfelt smile from you.

Aemond helping you up form the ground, as you folded the soiled duvet and book, he'd begun to carefully pluck out each of the small, dry leaves and petals that had somehow mingled in your unkept hair. A faint, sincere smile beaming across his face as he longingly gaped down above you, fixing the misplaced strands of hair.

Although, he had often taken pleasure in hurling cruel words towards you, his love was genuine and unrelenting. He was a loyal and dutiful husband, and it was plenty more than what many of the lords of the realm would offer their wives.

[rosemultitargaryen]

Hello 💗

Could you possibly do Aemond and his wife having sex for the first time (maybe on their wedding not, it really doesn’t matter)

Intertwined.

Warnings: Oral(fem receiving), Ownership kink, public sex, pain kink, degrading, praise, edging, embarrassment, breeding kink, size kink, fluffy ending. 

Pairing: Husband!Aemond x Wife!Virgin!reader.

Word Count: 1.1K

The ceremony was beautiful, tears were shed, bonds were made. You and your newlywed husband walk throughout the crowd, edging to get to your now shared chambers.

"You look enchanting." He whispers and your stomach flips with joy and anticipation.

You two hurriedly get to your chambers, the girls wait in the secret room eager to see the bedding ceremony. Aemond allows you into the room first, his hand placed lightly on the centre of your back while he closes the door behind you both.

Nerves start to creep in, your fists clench as he guides you to the bed. Aemond slides his hands down your arms; feeling you tense, he backs up slowly.

"We needn't do this tonight." Aemond whispers softly, smoothing your hair out of your face.

"No..I'm okay, I can do this." You smile, looking up at him.

Suddenly all your nerves left as his hands landed on your face. His touch is soft and subtle enough to calm you. His lips meet yours, slowly moving with you letting you take control. A small moan leaves your lips as he grasps at your dress, tugging away at the laced back.

You are stuck for words, feeling your dress pool at your ankles. Aemond kisses down your neck to your chest, his tongue finding your nipples and swirling deliciously around them. The act elicits a moan from you; gripping at his armour, anything that will relieve some pressure.

"Mm?" Aemond gives a suggestive look and you nod before he pushes you down onto the bed.

His body towers over you as he trails kisses down your body. Your hands grip the silk sheets as Aemond moves to your weeping cunt. His lips ghosting over the part where you yearn for him the most. Your eyes flutter to a close as he places a kiss on your clit, moaning as he does it. His tongue is eager to explore, flattening against your cunt as he laps like a kitten.

"Aemond." You whine, gripping at the sheets and arching your back.

Aemond picks up the pace, making your thighs tremble while he grips them firmly. His grip is strong enough that it may leave a mark on your supple flesh. He pulls away and makes it a point to kiss your thighs and mark them, claiming you as his, marking his territory. He moves up to your lips, kissing you while thrusting against you with need.

"Please, be gentle." You plead with your husband, scratching down his back.

Aemond strokes his cock slowly, lining up with your cunt before looking you in the eyes. His thirst for you and your body are unbearable. His cock twitches in his grasp, the tip prodding at your entrance. You move down in attempts to push him in, however your eagerness is not rewarded.

"Sweet girl, patience." He coos.

Just as you are about to protest Aemond sheathed himself within you, a retching scream leaves your lips and he groans. You scrap your nails down his back as Aemond moves at a measurable pace, making your eyes tear up and your insides curdle. Your chest heavies as the pain soon turns into pleasure.

"I..." you breathlessly mumble.

"Say the word and I will stop." He groans, making your eyes roll back.

You're too lost in the pleasure to say anything, your moans and whines being the only thing to leave your lips. Aemond groans and grunts in your ear, making it harder for you to focus. He grows bored of the standard position, pulling out quickly before picking you up and handling you. He flips you on your stomach, lifting your ass up before pushing back in. You feel him deep within your stomach with the new position. You look to your left and see the people watching the ceremony, watching you as Aemond fucks you senseless. You shy away, pushing your face into the sheets while Aemond slaps your arse.

"...fuck...nmnghhh." You groan at the connection.

"...you feel incredible, such a good fucking slut." Aemond ruts into you harder with each word. The slur making you clench.

The sound of skin slapping makes you whine as you yearn for your release. Aemond grins, gripping at the dips of your hips while slamming you back against his abdomen making you feel him deeper.

"Look at you, look at the state. All needy for release." Aemond chuckles and pulls out, the loss of contact making you cry out in frustration.

"Aemond. Please." You pant.

Aemond ignored your pleads and whines, lifting you once again. He lays down, lifting you so you're sat on his thighs. Unsure, you look at him confused until you find his hips on your waist. Aemond lifts you slowly before sliding you down onto his cock, your face contorting in pleasure as he grabs your breasts softly. You feel him get impossibly deeper than before. He presses his hand against your abdomen, applying just enough pressure as he thrusts forcefully within you. Your head goes back, arching your back and rolling your eyes.

"You look incredible all stuffed with my cock, I can't wait to see you swollen with our child." Aemond coos, making your legs shake with the pace he sets.

Your nails drag down his bare chest. Aemond leans up, fucking you senseless as he bites your breasts with hunger. His tongue smooths over the bite marks littered over your bruised chest.

"Aemond." You throw your head back, exposing your neck to him. He takes the opportunity and latches on, thrusting faster as your body convulses with your orgasm.

Screams and whines are to be heard from doors away as you let the harsh ecstasy run through you, the feeling of Aemond's release fills you to the brim. he makes it a point to keep himself sheathed in you, whispering praises and coos to you while he makes you ride out your high. Strands of hair stay to your face like glue as he peels his body from yours, you yawn and roll onto the bed as you watch him walk to the washroom. The water starts running and you frown, wondering what he is doing. Aemond returns a few minutes later with a robe in hand, holding his other hand out for you to grab. Reluctantly, you attempt to stand up knowing your legs are the equivalent to jelly right now. Aemond stands and stifles a laugh, watching you go limp against him.

"Okay, not funny." You grumble and Aemond places the robe over your shoulders, giving you some coverage as the girls are still watching you from the secret room.

Your eyes avert to the ground, Aemond's hand supporting you while he walks you to the washroom. The steam from the freshly drawn bath envelopes you both when you enter the room, candles lighting your way to the steamed tub. Aemond takes the robe off your body and helps you into the bath. The water smooths over your skin, making sure to taint your flesh with the specialised fragrances.

"Take your time and relax sweet girl." Aemond strokes your hair and leaves you to bathe.

[scentedpepper]

Of Crowns and Chains

AEMOND TARGARYEN X MALE SERVANT OC!

Summary: EMRIK FROST, NORTHERNER, AND LONG TERM PERSONAL ATTENDANT OF PRINCE AEMOND TARGARYEN ARRIVES AT THE RED KEEP EARLIER THAN EXPECTED. HE TRAVERSES THE LAND OF TAKING CARE OF A PRINCE DISTURBED BY HIS OWN EXISTENCE, THE SAME AS HE DOES EVERYDAY, YET, HE FINDS HIMSELF BURDENED BY HIS NOBLES NEW FOUND WISH.

CONTENT WARNINGS: Desc. of wounds & effects

Date: The Early Morning of S1E8 “The Lord of the Tides” HOTD — 130 AC

Author Notes: None :p

Chapter 1-1. The Servant Without

Eyes shrouded in heavy exhaustion when the morning comes.

This much, Emrik Frost knows he will see upon entrance.

When the first peak of light turns the sky a light blue, the boy, aged ten and eight, arrives at the castle on horseback. He is alone. A black vest, lighter than the ones he wears during the winter, is situated across his chest with a white dress shirt beneath it. He holds the reins of a brown rouncey horse when he enters through the gates of the Red Keep, exchanging brief greetings to the guards before departing with nothing of value but an insignia of House Targaryen attached to his garments.

The staircase to the royal chambers is much more dimly lit than the grand entrance hall despite its frequent visitors, there are thinner banners lining the twisting walls as you go, all containing the fire breathing three headed dragon and the colors of red and black. It's quiet, empty and far from as bustling as Emrik usually knows it.

The sound of Emrik’s footsteps bounce around the walls as he walks with a speed dedicated to efficiency, his back straightened in a fashion even too proper for the nobles residing in the castle.

He is the only presence within the halls aside from fellow servants, and kingsguard, amounting to their duties at each royal apartment, from King Viserys all the way down to Prince Aemond Targaryen, tucked in the curve of the hallway.

This is where Emrik is headed when the discourse of Ser Cerys Oakheart and Ser Seraphis Dayne strikes his ears. Their voices are quieted, as if any louder may render the castle to disease. –Perhaps, speaking of the Prince's nightly troubles was not far off from that.

“...all night. “

“That bad?”

“Even from halfway across the castle, you could feel the weight of the boy's night. I’m not certain he managed much rest, if any at all.”

Ser Seraphis carried his Dornish accent at the top of his throat when he spoke, and if it wasn't the tanned skin and deep brown eyes that gave him away, it’d certainly be the way his voice grumbled in his chest as words sounding more concerned than demeaning left his tongue.

“Good morrow, Ser Cerys. “ Emrik’s steps paused as he bowed to the two knights. “Ser Seraphis. “

“Emrik. “ Ser Seraphis was as warm as he always was, addressing the curly haired boy with a kind regard that bordered on excitement. Emrik was the closest resemblance of his son in the Red Keep, his character familiar to that of Dornes.

“You’ve heard our discussion, I gather. “ Ser Cerys speaks, knowing the pinch in Emrik’s brow had to count for something.

“Yes, it is a misfortune to hear of the Prince's torment. How many nights has it been now?”

“Twelve. “ Ser Cerys says, voice heavy with emphasis. “Twice what it was last month. “

Emrik can't help the breath he releases at the sound of the Prince's seemingly worsening condition, his dark eyes flitting to look at the doors behind the two knights, mulling over his thoughts. "I’ve spoken with the maester, " he says, a moment of realization crossing his face. "Let us hope the ointment arrives ere noon, yes?”

The knights nod to Emrik in fluid agreement before they part, allowing him to place his hands to the large wooden door and push it open where he is immediately met with the flood of busied people, most of them gathered around the tub, just beginning to pour steaming pots of water into the porcelain.

The faces of the servant women are familiar, some younger looking than others as they coordinate with each other, a clear way of teamwork established amongst them.

In the back, a separate woman stands at the wardrobe, one who Emrik recognizes the long black locks of, tied loosely behind her. Tania sometimes left her post in the kitchen for a short time to wake the Prince, call the others and gather his clothing, subbing in for another that otherwise would have taken Emrik’s duties up since he usually doesn't arrive until later in the morning, when the Prince has dressed and is going about his regular activities.

Today, as expected, would have been no different from that. So when Tania looks to the heavy opening entrance, a befuzzled expression befalls her face at the sight of Emrik and her rushed movements inside the wardrobe pause.

Their exchange is brief at best, because there is a more pressing matter and it is sitting slumped on the foot of the bed, groaning.

Emrik is struck by the sight, feeling an accustomed familiarity run over him as he thinks of the Princes brother's usual state of consequence from the night before. Which– are most days.

The boy shares another look with Tania, this time etched in the same concern Ser Seraphis’ posed when he talked just outside the door, before he began his approach.

As he nears closer, he can hear Prince Aemonds stifled noises of pain clearer. The boy's hair has frizzed, draping a curtain between him and Emrik as he leans in on himself, hands pressed to his eyes in an effort of futile suppression. His skin looks almost dewy underneath the faint light flooding through the window and if it were any other day, Emirk may have thought this to be nothing but Targaryen beauty. But Aemond’s skin did not glisten in the way a bird's tweet brought solace, but rather, it shone like the greasy foods the Prince so often found his lip turn up at, lining the long feasting table as if the gardens had nothing better of substance to offer.

“Good Morrow, My Prince. “

Aemond did not meet him immediately, refusing to move from the way he crammed himself into his own body. The pads of his fingers touched tenderly to the inflamed skin around his coarse and ruined flesh, the pulsating twitches in his sockets a constant no matter what position he took on.

“I gather you have not engaged in bathing activities?” Emrik went on, observing from above with boring eyes that left a heavy weight on the Prince's hair.

Aemond shakes his head slowly in a negative answer to the prodding and he sighs, fingers still curled into his forehead as he looks up, posture slightly improving. “No..I have not. “

The words come slower than his head shake, quiet and strained as if speaking any louder may judder his brain too quickly and shatter the walls of his skull. His violet eye appears darker under the shadows of the room and his eyelids droop slightly more than usual. The weight of exhaustion has a clear grip on him as he holds Emriks gaze for a few moments less than intended, his head gradually moving back to its hung position, fingers pressing against his face once more.

Emrik watches him curiously, his body moves as if it is ten times heavier than it was yesterday, the collar of his nightshirt has been stretched widely enough to fit the rest of his body through if he so sought wish to and his veins seem even more apparent through his bordering sheer, pale skin.

“Very well. The water should be cooled enough in a few moments, My Prince. “ Emrik passes glance to the women at the tub as he turns on his heel, striding to the wardrobe where Tania still stands, having watched the Prince with just as much intensity as the man.

“He is not well, is he?” Tania says in a hushed tone, tearing her gaze away from the white haired as she passes the already gathered clothing items to Emrik. Their faces sink into the depths of the wardrobe as they speak, supposedly busied by the grand task of picking out Prince Aemonds uniform black on black outfit.

Emrik sighs quietly, running his fingers along the silky material of a proper shirt. It has become a common question between them, how the Prince is.

There is a brief silence between the two before Emrik replies.

“No. “ His brow furrows as his hand moves down to the knob of the drawer containing small clothes. “Ser Cerys Oakheart says it is worse than last month. “

Tania nods, the skin between her brows crinkling as she glances at the Prince who looks as if he may blow away with the wind. She is older than the two of them, perhaps wiser than both, far browner than Aemond and even Emrik. She’s been around the young Prince since before his eye was taken, and yet, she finds herself lost on words when it comes to the vitality and wellness of the Prince. It is Emriks job, after all, not hers.

It is then, she exhales a deep sigh indicative of clear dread at the prospect of what Emrik can only suspect is a task within the kitchen. He looks at her from his peripheral, closing the drawer softly.

“I must go. “ She tells him and she looks toilworn already.

Emrik’s lip tugs as he gives her a commisertaive nod and the two leave the wardrobe, Tania parting for the doors first as he makes for the bed moments later. He folds the clothes soundlessly beside the Prince, his gaze returning to the hunch of his body once more, noticing the slight shake in his arms.

The boy does not register the footsteps of his Chamberlain until the matured woman is close beside him, her voice a mere whisper as she speaks to him in caution of the Prince, her head tilted upwards.

Ameonds eye remains shut tight despite the murmurs. He doesn't speak, nor does he make any movement as the two discuss him right beside his form, a topic that was once foreign to his ears. But now, after the loss of his eye, Aemond is privy to every word exchanged between Emrik and his fellow workers. He hears it, and he is aware, that this is what they think of him. That the boy with the missing eye is a shell. A call for concern. That he is the living corpse, the embodiment of a man who has died before death even found him.

Perhaps they are right, and he is a ghost, but it does not mean the pain he feels is any less.

The footsteps go in a group, sounding faintly of hoofbeats as the serving women exit the room, leaving only Emrik to bathing duties, as per instruction of the Prince.

Emrik has set the clothes on the couch, beside the flicking flames of the fireplace by the time the room has emptied and he carries his weight carefully back to the foot of the bed, his touch featherlight along the Prince's shoulder as he beckons him forth. “Come, My Prince. “

Ameonds body is tensed when the touch meets him, he barely registers the warmth from Emriks fingers as his eyes crack open and he stands, discarding the sheet wrapped around his waist. His brows are furrowed as his head enters a new space in the air and he walks past the small sofa, thin nightshirt draping haphazardly over the armrest.

His hair falls far down his back, mingling with the muscle and the shoulder blades beneath it as he undoes the button on his trousers.

Emriks expression remains unremarkably plain as he watches the Prince conduct the task of undressing on his own, his eyes moving away as he too, walks to the tub, rounding the sofa on the opposite side of the Prince.

The air is silent as Aemond steps in, the water reaching his thighs and Emrik can see the visible release when he submerges fully, the warmth sloshing quietly around his collar bones.

This is their routine, the Targaryen boy has not bathed in front of another since he was 14, a year after Emrik came into his service. It was his mother, Queen Alicent, who insisted that he needed a companion with whom he could share the most intimate parts of his life, his body, his mind, his soul.

Aemond thought it shit. Now, he still part way does. He was not a child, and even as a child, the thought of anyone else helping him, especially another boy, made his stomach churn.

But Emrik was different.

When Aemond looked at the boy, he saw no one. Not a lord, not an heir, not a Prince, not the future King. Just a boy. With the same amount of problems as he. A boy with the same amount of fears, the same amount of wants and the same amount of needs. More, even.

Aemonds tilts his head back against the porcelain, his eye shut in an attempt to relieve the pain behind his lid. The bath is hotter than the ones he normally takes, his muscles are taut and his breathing has slowed to an almost painful rate as his lungs expand beneath the water.

“You're early. “ He says after another moment, dismissing the sponge in Emriks hand with a wave.

“My shift has been moved to an earlier time, My Prince. “ Emrik explains as he sets the sponge back into its place, taking up a seat on a small wooden stool beside the tub. "It seems my position in the bakery is no longer needed. "

The Prince opens his eyes to look at the boy, the dark curls of his hair framing his face, his matching eyes boring holes into the floor as his hands settle atop his lap.

Emrik is a boy who does not smile, his face is as serious as Aemond imagines his own. But he is not angry, nor is he cold, rather, his demeanor is that of a blank canvas, and he paints upon it, with strokes that tell Aemond exactly what his mood is.

He can sense his discomfort, the way his shoulders have slightly curved in and the way his mouth hangs just a bit lower than usual. Aemond is no fool, and despite what Emrik believes, the way the skin underneath his eyes are just a bit more purple, the way his curls have grown a tad longer, the way his skin has dulled just the slightest, are all signs of fatigue.

His brow furrows deeper.

"What happened? "

"I do not know, My Prince. The details weren't explicit. " Emrik's gaze finally leaves the floor as he looks up at Aemond, the crease in his brow has smoothed a bit, but it is still prominent. “Are you well, My Prince?”

Aemond pauses, his good eye looking away as he mulls over the details of his night. He knows the answer from the moment Emrik asks, but he cannot bring himself to answer it truthfully, nor linger on the topic of his well-being for long. “I am fine. “ He answers. “You do not have to call me ‘My Prince’ anymore. “

Emrik blinks.

“You are a prince. “

“You are my personal attendant, not my servant. “ Aemond looks back at him.

Emrik is silent for a moment.

“They are one in the same, My Prince. “

The water begins to slosh again as Aemond sits up, propping his elbows on the edges of the tub, his hair sticking to his shoulders.

"You are not. "

"If I was not, then I wouldn't be here. "

The statement is blunt and honest, and Aemond feels the corner of his lip tug into a partial smirk, straining against the pound in his head that has somewhat subsided since his sink into the hot water.

"Very well. " He says. "Then only when it is us. "

"Yes, My Prince. "

"Aemond. "

"Yes, Aemond. "

[lovelywetdreamer]

~🌸💜Punishment Time💜🌸~

Nerdy college student Ameond had enough of your cheating ways in chess. You made sure to wear a purple low-cut crop top that is one size small for you. Your breasts are basically bursting out of the top. You end up taking his knight because his eyes are too busy dining on you. When he was about to play his queen, he felt you slightly press your dainty feet against his hard-on. You could a spot forming as you rub your feet up and down his dick. Ameond has to end this game quick or he is going to end up coming in this pant. He somehow got your king. He doesn't remember how, and you can't tell him how. He immediately tore your top off and bent you over the chessboard. His hips were slamming against you so hard that some of the chess pieces fell to the ground. "Dirty whore trying to beat me with your slutty ways" he groans in your ear as his thrusts become deep and hard. You were drooling on the chessboard as your kitty was leaking on the floor. You are a mindless whore hungry for Ameond harsh thrusts and cum. He pulls your hair as he comes deep inside your tight walls.

Nunu made this wonderful and cute fanart

[thegrungebarbie]

here to shamelessly promote my ao3 Aemond Targaryen fic called 'Madwoman & Kinslayer'. come through all you Aemond Targaryan, enemies to lovers, drama loving people!

[frost-queen]

Forged in fires (Reader x Aemond Targaryen)

Requested by: anon; Forever tag: @missmelodramatic, @theletterhart, @alex--awesome--22​, @elllie-does-the-posts​, @floatlosers​, @merlieve​, @queen-of-books​, @glimmering-darling-dolly​, @denkisclown​, @wildieflower​, @meyocoko​, @bubblybrianna​, @justanothercoco​ @idkwhatmyusernameis​,  @subjecta13-thefangirl, @m-rae23​, @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr​

Torches lighted up the throne room. People lined up to await the arrival of King Viserys. You stood amongst them; hands neatly folded before you. Getting on the tips of your toes to see if anything would occur soon. Lately you all had to wait longer for King Viserys as he wasn’t one of the youngest anymore. Setting your heels back down, you felt a close presence from behind. – “Rytsas kēlītsos.” Hello little cat. You heard ruining your mood instantly. – “You know I don’t speak High Valyrian.” – you responded, keeping your focus to the front. – “I know.” – Aemond spoke appearing from over your shoulder to your side. – “That is what makes it all the more fun.” – he added coming into your view. A silly grin on his face. – “Sīr fragile se rāpa.” So fragile and soft. 

You rolled your eyes at his words, his hand hovering down your shoulder to your arm. You might not understand what he said, but one word came out clear. Aemond staring grinningly at you. – “Are you done?” – you questioned, agitated by his insult. You just knew he was insulting you in High Valyrian just to tease you for not understanding. Aemond pulled his shoulders up with a small pout. Not able to withstand his presence more, you let yourself disappear through the crowd. Moving to make sure he couldn’t find you so easily.

“So insufferable.” – you mumbled to yourself, making your way to the back, closer to the throne. You didn’t even want to look over your shoulder to see if he was in pursuit. You came to a halt as King Viserys got announced. He walked as best as he could to his throne. The people dropping down into a bow when he passed them. Looking to your left, you saw a group of people bow, giving you a clearer view of those beside them. Your gaze caught by the young prince. You gave him a childish mockery expression. Aemond chuckled batting his gaze down. King Viserys walked near as you dropped down in a curtsy. 

Aemond’s gaze lingering on you with something indescribable in his eyes. You rose, catching him quickly look away from you. Wondering what would go through his head. King Viserys let himself fall onto his throne with a heavy sigh. With one wave of his hand, separated the line merging into one blur of people. You staid in the background. Finding solitude near one of the pillars. In the crowd, you spotted Aemond’s pure white/blonde hair near his mother, the queen. Sighing loud, you rather wanted to be somewhere else. Anywhere where Aemond couldn’t be around.

**

“Y/n!” – your father called you over. You waited in the entrance for the door to be shut behind you. Hands neatly folded in front of you, you approached your father. – “You called upon me father.” – you said leaning in to give him your cheek, placing it against his. Doing the same to his other cheek. He chuckled, holding your arms. – “Come, come.” – he said taking your hand. He led you further into the room. – “I would like you to meet a very promising lord.” – he continued making your stomach twist. 

Here he was again trying to out marry you to which ever lord would give you an even grander title. A man standing by the curtains. He slowly turned when you were pulled closer. Your expression contracted in pure disgust. The lord in question more then half your age. One would say he could be your father. – “Lady Y/n it is a pleasure.” – he spoke, bowing his head. Your gaze went down, seeing that the wine was not unfamiliar with him. 

His stomach bloated from heavily drinking. Your father nudged you hard since you were not being respectful. – “I do hope you do not intend to marry me off to a man who is old enough to be my father, father.” – you said boldly, not caring if it was an insult or inappropriate. There was absolutely no way you were binding yourself to such a man.

“Y/n!” – your father called out, grabbing you firmly by your shoulder. Giving it a hard squeeze as his eyes beamed with anger. – “You will be polite to Lord Lionelor of House Beesbury.” – he made clear giving you a scowl. You turned your attention to the lord in question, straightening your posture. – “I would rather let a dragon scorch me then marry him.” – you told him with a strong expression. The lord puffed his cheeks up. – “With a mouth like that, no lord would even consider marrying you.” – he responded. – “Good, be sure to spread the word!” – you pushed through to make your statement. 

“Y/n!” – your father grabbed you aggressively by the arm. He pulled you away from the lord to a more secluded area of the room. – “One more performance like that and I won’t be so respectful!” – he threatened. – “You are still my daughter, my flesh and blood so when I command you, you do as you are told!” – he said with a clenched expression. – “Command me?” – you answered half mockingly half sarcastically. – “I may be your blood, but no one commands me of whom to marry!” – you pulled your arm out of his grip. 

You gasped receiving a hard slap against your cheek. – “I do and you will do as I say!” – he called out. You slowly turned your head to him, eyes filled with hatred. He nodded firm, pleased with himself. You turned leaving the room, not caring one bit. Infuriated you stormed outside stealing a can of wine and a cup on your way.

The little courtyard where the large white tree with red blossoms and faces in it’s bark held refuge. You let yourself fall on the bench, filling your cup. Drinking it in one breath. It wasn’t enough as you filled the cup immediately after. Needing to drink your sorrow away of being a disappointment. To fight against every demand your father throws your way for a marriage proposal. You knew one day your luck would run out, forced to marry a man you would never love just to please your father. 

To keep strong connections to other strong houses. You raised your cup to the sky. Toasting to your own doom. – “Hear, hear.” – you said bringing your cup to your mouth. Taking a large sip. Exhaling loud, you let your shoulder slouch. Wallowing in self-pity. Something caught your eyes, appearing in your blind spot. It made you turn your head, immediately regretting you did. Aemond approached, hands behind his back, a silly smirk on his lips. 

You groaned irritated. – “I am not in the mood Aemond.” – you said staring down your cup, letting the wine swirl in your cup. – “So sad.” – he responded, mockery clear in his tone. You sighed bothered, getting up. Aemond widened his eye briefly at your sudden behavior. He sped up to reach you, taking you by the arm.

You pulled away as Aemond took a step back. He could tell something serious was going on with you. Something that would knock you out of rhythm so bad. – “If you came to gloat, now is your chance.” – you said gesturing dramatically with your hand. – “I can’t fall any lower.” – you waved your cup in the air, spilling a bit on the ground. Chuckling you brought the cup to your lips. Aemond observing closely. You drank a bit, humming loud with a held up finger, wanting to say something more. 

“Is there a word for disappointment in High Valyrian? Or something related you can pin on me.” – you chuckled in your cup, feeling a bit tipsy. You wanted to drink again when Aemond wrapped his hand around your wrist, pulling it down. His action was aggressive, it made some wine spill over the edge. – “Drinking does daor suit ao, dōna hāedar” – he said to you. You stared confused at him. Aemond held you by your elbow, plucking the cup from your hand. – “Drinking does not suit you.” – he repeated in a common tongue for you to understand. He set the cup aside, not wanting you to drink any more. 

Aemond chuckled seeing you trying to mumble his words in High Valyrian for yourself. – “Wait what do the last words mean?” – you asked him, nearly stumbling over your own feet. Aemond’s gaze widened. – “Done… Dona…something else.” – you tried to repeat it, being so off from the original word. – “Nothing.” – Aemond responded. Staring down he knew exactly what they said. Sweet girl. Although he would never admit it.

You took a deep breath, fumbling a bit with the cords on the front of your dress’s chest plate. Aemond noticed it, making his way over. He cupped your hands from below, making you stop fumbling. – “What has upset you, Y/n.” – he asked bringing your hands down to your waist. You gazed at him, wondering if you should even tell him. You considered him after all an enemy. You turned your posture away from him, drifting off towards the tree. Aemond watching you. – “Is it your father?” – he asked. 

You took a deep breath, letting your head fall back to catch the sunlight on your face. Aemond swallowed, letting his gaze go down, knowing enough. He slowly approached you, coming to stand beside you.  Admiring your features in the sunlight. – “Trouble not yourself with my worries, Aemond.” – you spoke, lowering your head. – “It is unlike you.” – you faced him with a smile. Aemond leaned in closer, smirking cunningly. – “Dovodedha hāedar.” Silly girl. He responded warming up your smile.

**

“Y/n!” – Jacaerys called out coming over with two cups in his hands. – “Your royal highness.” – you replied with a curtsy. Jacaerys held one cup out to you. – “I thank you, your royal highness.” – you said accepting the cup. – “Please Y/n, Jace… my parents aren’t around for formalities.” – he answered, holding one hand briefly up. You bowed your head as a response. Both of you took a sip, looking away from each other. – “Mother is occupying herself with finding me a good wife.” – he told you. 

You hummed softly, listening with much interest. – “She has thrown countless names my way, but if I could suggest one it would be yours.” – he said as you nearly choked on your drink. – “Are you alright Y/n?” – he asked, hand resting on your back. – “I am quite alright Jace.” – you responded, quickly wiping your mouth dry. Your gaze met accidently with Aemond’s from across the room. Near the fires he stood, observing you closely. 

Standing stiffly, trying to keep his expression as clean as possible. Yet you noticed how much effort he had to give it. – “Do you not think our houses would form a great allegiance?” – Jacaerys said drawing your attention away from Aemond. – “I suppose.” – you answered polite. – “I would be very gentle with you.” – he added.

Jacaerys took your hand without asking for it. Admiring your palm. – “I’ve read somewhere that lovers can be found by the way the lines on their palm flow.” – he informed you. He let his finger trace your palm, following one of your lines. His touch tickled a bit, making you curl your fingers. – “Where did you read that?” – you asked chuckling. – “A very old book.” – he replied, moving his hand over your fingers, bringing them down to your palm. 

“Jacaerys Velaryon, are you telling me a lie?” – you said teasingly with a smile on your lips. – “Would it be such a bad lie?” – he asked resting his hand on yours. Aemond couldn’t stand it anymore. Gritting his teeth, staring with disgust and hatred at his nephew. His hand on yours, adding up with your smile was the drop. He stormed over not caring if some heads turned curiously his way. 

You gasped getting grabbed rather aggressively by Aemond. He pulled you away from his nephew, leading you away. He shoved you in a corner away from the watching eyes. – “Aemond!” – you slapped him against his shoulder for handling you so aggressively. He grunted, pushing you against the wall. You swayed your arms to make him release his grip on you.

It was no use as Aemond kept you in place. – “What is the meaning of this!” – you called out frustrated that your attempts were of no use. – “Unhand me right this instant!” – you ordered, setting your foot firmly down to mark your point. – “Ao mazverdagon nyke ojughagon ñuha mind!” You make me lose my mind. Aemond shouted at you. You gasped loud at the intensity of his words. Even though you didn’t understand, the tone in his voice spoke loud enough. 

Aemond stared intensely at you that it caught your breath. Seeing the slightly frightened reaction in your eyes, made him rethink his approach. Taking a deep breath he calmed himself. Loosening his tight grip on you, yet not letting you go. His gaze went down to your lips briefly before lingering at your once more. – “Did I do something wrong? I didn’t mean to, I am sorry if I…” – you started, cut off by Aemond covering up your mouth with his hand. You stared dumbfound back at him. Aemond swallowed nervously, finding it hard to find the right words to let you know. Let you know how he really felt about you. 

How jealous he was seeing his nephew flirt with you so openly. He couldn’t stand it that Jacaerys was near you. Not when you were supposed to be his opponent. Aemond took a deep breath, feeling the need to confess to you before it would be too late. Before your father would marry you off to someone else or before Rhaenyra would approve you as Jacaerys’s wife.

“Iksā skoros jaelan.” You are what I want. He said removing his hand from over your mouth. – “Dōna hāedar.” Sweet girl. He added letting his finger brush against your cheek. You breathed in shivers, staring lost in his gaze. – “I love you.” – he blurted out so lost in your beauty it slipped from his lips. Your eyes widened realizing what he had said. Aemond let go of you, shocked by his own revelation that he so openly confessed. 

That should have not come out of his mouth. Shaking his head, he felt foolish for confessing like this to someone he once considered an enemy. He backed away wanting to escape the formed situation. It took you a moment to let his words sink in. Pushing yourself off the wall, you took his wrist as he was about to turn away. Tugging on his wrist, you spun him back to you. 

Getting on the tips of your toes to reach his lips. Kissing him. Not feeling him kiss you back, made you set your heels down. Before you could lower your head, cupped Aemond your cheeks, leaning down a bit to kiss you once more. The boundaries of enemies slowly melting down to reveal the inner core where love held it’s place.

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