#i get frightened so easily
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i absolutely refuse to take stars warring as a series too seriously... and then i see people that do that and i get scared
#i get frightened so easily#i was so scared in 2015 especially#this doesnt mean people who like it or characters or a ship a lot#i saw someone that said 'pro-jedi dni' in their bio and like#what?#im so lost and i dont think i wanna be found#these were just sillygoofy space movies i used to watch when i was like 6 😭😭
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do skully have pokemon?
Pumpkaboo is the obvious one, but y'know, sometimes the obvious one is the right one! (we'll say SUPER SIZE Pumpkaboo, just for fun. big pumpkin for big skeleton boy.) and another person actually also suggested Greavard, which I somehow hadn't considered, but feels so perfect that I feel like I should have. dangit.
(they can also have little Nightmare Suit costumes :D)
#art#twisted wonderland#pokemon#poketwst#twisted wonderland spoilers#lost in the book with nightmare before christmas#hajimari no halloween#(sorry for leaving anon off for a while! i've gotten a rash of spam and i'm gonna wait it out a couple days before turning it back on)#also apologies for the rest of this not really being pokemon related#i don't have anything right now for part 4 of the event so i'm gonna use this space to go off about it#because. oh man.#a sad lack of the scullsman but a FEAST of everyone else#gotta love malleus and leona uniting in the common goal of hunting trey down for trying to game their whiny pettiness#(trey doesn't know what to do with someone he can't easily distract with cake)#also further confirmation that malleus WILL kill a small child and leona WILL point and laugh the whole time#also sebek's plans revolving around what he knows he's good at: screaming extremely loudly and hoisting nerds#and let us not forget what i consider to be the crowning jewel#which is jamil figuring out IMMEDIATELY where scully has taken his prisoners#only for everyone else to just. literally refuse to do anything about it.#jamil just standing there and going 'WE KNOW WHERE THEY ARE! WE CAN JUST! GO GET THEM!!!! WHYYY AREN'T WE GOING'#visibly losing his entire mind and it's beautiful#top 10 twst event moments honestly#also some delightful character consistency from jade being all#'actually my dicking around is a sign of my immense trust in your abilities to get things done :)'#'but also consider: there are currently two housewardens chasing a child'#'alternately angrily screaming poetry and begging them not to sue'#'and if you will pardon my city of flowers...there is no fucking way i'm missing that'#lock shock and barrel did not sign up for this. how did these idiots turn out to be somehow weirder than the three of them.#twisted wonderland must be a frightening place indeed
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looking at some takes on characters or relationships or scenes in which things happen between them and just thinking,
How in the hell are people interpreting it this way??? But then i step back and realize that the story or character in question is fundamentally and extraordinarily different from the average person's life experience and I go,
ah,
you guys just... don't have a deep enough understanding of trauma responses...
#mine#vagueblogging again i guess but this applies to many things#its honestly okay that the general public doesn't grasp the deeper layers at play because tbh theyre not often explored in media#to that degree at least#ive known someone with deep. Deep. DEEP traumas#shit that no human should ever go through and sounds almost cartoonishly evil#and the truth is#healing from that is UGLY. the impact it has on how a person interacts with their life is unimaginable#and it often makes NO SENSE AT ALL to someone who hasn't experienced the same shit#it's not as simple as 'i'm sad or scared and i cry easily but if youre nice to me and love me it'll go away'#in my own experience of loving someone like that#you sometimes have to work at helping them rewrite their entire philosophies.#things you wouldnt even think of#sometimes expressing sadness or pain is the hardest part about it because they're so used to turning the other cheek to survive#sometimes theyre so used to being manipulated that they reject any kindness you offer in the most viscerally violent way#and it hurts!#communication is HARD!#receiving love is HARD!#i was listening to Raon Lee's cover of Kokoronashi#and thinking about how raw the emotions are in the lyrics#and how so many average joes out there wouldn't be able to make any sense of it but those who do get it really get it#(essentially like... 'i wish you would just get it overwith and tear me apart#bc it would hurt less than the confusion i feel at how you're kind to me and holding me and promising to never let go...#at least i know how to handle the pain of dying#this is so confusing and frightening what youre doing to me. i hate it i hate it but please... don't leave me alone')#(its such a gorgeous song)#sHIT AND THEN 2 SECONDS LATER I FIND KOHANA LAM'S COVER OF IT AND IT'S SO MUCH MOR E#for the love of god look up that song and turn on lyrics captions
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that also being said I'm trying to gather a group of friends to go to a haunted house together in october and it's very funny to see which friends are all in and which ones are not about it
#[static]#i dont like getting scared but i LOVE getting scared with a group of people lmao#my husband *hates* being chased so he's out and our other friend who's super into spooky stuff hates being scared *and* chased#our friend who is the most easily frightened and hates horror movies is eagerly going but only if we all hold hands#and the rest of us are just excited to hang out so it'll be a blast
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overcoming anxiety (through practicing the things that scare you) is so interesting. i used to be horrified of taking up space or alerting other people of my presence. now i'm compelled to tell strangers i like their outfits or hair or earrings- on bad days i tell maybe a quarter of them. do i still overthink it? absolutely. but i call attention to myself to tell someone else my opinion. and with the way they tend to smile and tell me "thank you!" i'm pretty sure it's taken to heart.
i used to be horrified of making phone calls as well. this is one i'm still getting over- i just Don't Like Doing It. i used to have a phone call routine that i still joke about- realize i need to call someone, cry, avoid it for a few days, suck it up, write a script, memorize the script, cry again, final script read, make the call with the script in front of me. and i would be Exhausted by the end of it. i don't cry when i need to call people anymore. i'm even needing scripts less and less- i've found out that people actually won't kill me if i talk a little too fast or stumble on my words. i doubt i'll ever like making phone calls- i especially hate robots (i'm afraid they'll mishear me and direct me wrong or a person will suddenly show up and i won't be prepared)- but i can make them now.
i get overwhelmed really easy. just a thing that happens to me. my brain is really really good at taking one task and breaking it up into thousands of little tasks and it feels like i'm drowning. if i try to make it fewer larger tasks then it starts to feel insurmountable. i was completely lost on how to deal with this (other than avoid until you get that panic attack and can do work in the post-catharsis calm until 6:00 AM) until one night when my dad (who i often meet late at night due to overlapping mental illness symptoms) asked me how to eat an elephant. i looked at him, confused, and he said "one bite at a time." that was way more effective than any other analogy i've seen has been. "light at the end of a tunnel"- i don't feel like i'm moving forward, i feel like i'm scaling a wall. "steps on a trail"- i can see my destination, but it feels impossible to move forward. but eating an elephant? that sums it up perfectly. this huge task which seems impossible at a glance. but it must be done. so you eat the elephant, a bite at a time. every time i'm overwhelmed i repeat that phrase to myself. it hasn't made any major changes yet, but it keeps me calm enough to start before i hit the panic attack, which i'll take.
i was such a perfectionist growing up- i actually thought it was a good thing (school always taught me to strive for perfection). but it made me scared to try new things- if i wasn't immediately good at them, then it clearly wasn't for me. i'm still not great at starting new hobbies, but i try a lot of new things within the hobbies i already have. i test out different ways of making art, i try new puzzle games i don't understand, etc. and the feeling of steady improvement reminds me that i don't need to be good right away. some of the most satisfying moments don't come from immediately being good- they come from achieving that skill over time. i'd like to try to learn to sew soon.
idk it's interesting. i rewire my own brain's fear response by doing the Horrifying Thing enough times for me to understand that no i will not die. and while i'm doing it it feels like nothing is changing. i get so stressed every time- it can actually take a lot out of me (turns out fight-or-flight burns a lot of energy). but i look back at then vs. now and i realize how far i've come, and i can't help but think "huh. neat"
#marzi speaks#this post has no point. i am simply thinking out loud#i think understanding the root of where the anxiety comes from helps a lot too#like. my mom feels most secure when she's in control#she doesn't like situations in which she can't control how she responds or what happens when she does#it makes her feel helpless. and that's how her GAD affects her#it's also why her fear response is 'fight'- she stress-cleans and expresses authority because those are things she can control#it's a self-soothing technique#but for me it's different. i'm most at ease when i know where i am and what's going on#this could be for plenty of reasons. i'm bad at directions and time blind so i feel lost easily#i had to learn to do a lot of things by myself growing up because my brother needed a bit of extra attention#my parents used to sometimes forget to tell me about things- i wouldn't know we were going somewhere until they asked me if i was ready#or even just that i was always surrounded by so much information and i love learning with my whole heart#when i can't know what will happen next or why something's happening in the first place i get disoriented and frightened#i don't need to have a say in what will happen. i just need to know. then i can roll with the punches#this is why MY fear responses are flight and freeze#i self-isolate because i know environments like my room and my mind#other people are unpredictable. i know what i will do#i like puzzles because they're something i can learn and figure out. once i understand it's a matter of patterns#and they take my mind off of the unknown i'm worried about#my mom will engage in a lot of conflict behavior. i engage in a lot of avoidant behavior#yes this caused arguments growing up lmao. i'd be freaking out abt smth and she'd be confused as to why i wasn't just going and fixing it#or she'd be freaking out abt smth and i'd be confused as to why she didn't try to just get all the facts#but we're better communicators abt that now teehee#it's interesting though. we have the same illness (generalized anxiety disorder) and are similar in a lot of ways#but because our root fears are different our responses to them are different#this could also be learned#my mom grew up poor and didn't get to do a lot- she worked her ass off to have financial freedom#i grew up comfortable with every question i asked entertained by two very smart parents. when a question can't be answered i feel dissonant#it's probably a bit of both in some cyclical manner. still nifty to think about
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very weird to me that people react much more emotionally to taissa killing a dog vs shauna killing a bunny
#bunny looked so much like one i had as a kid. they're babies and are very nervous and easily frightened#anyway im just saying people getting rly freaked out by that.. weird and potentially racist#its literally the the murder and cannibalism show get over yourself. quick
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thinking again
#feel like i have become too complacent with watering myself down into an easily digestible identify for society#partially bc of my career is very conservative.. so#no piercings or tattoos. cut my long hair off to a mens hairstyle. i pass exclusively as a cis straight man as much as i can#especially around the old head bosses i meat#stopped learning japanese even though im mixed so i could learn French because its more useful where i live#i dont want to be useful and i dont want to be seen as some creature mimicking human anatomy like a robot i just want 2 be myself#but ive been doing this so long idk who myself would even be anymore#sometimes i get into old interests i had as a kid and i feel that spark like that 12 yr old didnt die on the inside but then its gone again#i wish a version of myself thats not palatable to my peers could exist#i want to relearn japanese and i want to ride motorcycles and i want to get into certain types of music or clothes#but it also feels like none of it really matters anymore at the same time#if i could be anything i would be a funeral director in nagoya but thats something that can never happen#i shove everything i like down so deep you have to reach to find it#this whole blog is an amalgamation of who i was and who i wished i could be#but being human we r just cursed with bodies that dont feel like our own and having to cut and shape them in a way#that u feel better but not enough so that the people around you are frightened#this is mostly the fact i have avoidant personality disorder and i know i can never be what normal is for most people#i want 2 be myself but myself died somewhere in a past life i think#i am not even human on the inside. half the time i joke w people that im an rpg slime or the human version of those sponge slimes#hence my nickname irl literally being gelo / jello / jelly#and if not that then black German shepherd dogs r also literally just me#but alas i am stuck in a human body#one thats too fat too hairy too sick too broken and i have to deal with it and rebuild myself everyday so people aren't uncomfortable#ANYWAY!!! maybe ill add onto this later ...idk.#to be born again.. sighs.
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Woke up in shambles because a dream made me realize I literally have no idea what I would do to keep my dog safe in the case of a Zombie apocalypse
#Q's dream diary#😭 Not funny I was so stressed about it. I could not keep her locked up in my house but I couldn't let her out either because she's small#And the zombies might hurt her or she might get pregnant and not find anywhere safe. And in the dream I couldn't take her with me because#-we were going to escape walking and carrying her (she is easily frightened) would put us at risk. I'm legit sad
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Can Not stop thinking about urianger being fucked up over visions of the world ending and the wol dying for a solid Bit after getting tossed to the crystarium. im going to eat a brick.
#hes already fucked up over the body count the scions are very rapidly amassing#and he views the wol as a close friend!! theyre very important to him#and uri too falls under the assumption that 'oh theyre the wol they cant possibly die theyve overcome so much'#he feels that with almost all of his friends but the most for the wol#so to be suddenly put in a moment of deep concern for the world then torn from your body and shown The Worst Possible Future-#not only is the world ending but you watch it end and you watch as the last bastion of your hope the person you assumed could and would neve#r truly die-- does die. undoubtedly and viscerally and in front of you#as you are once again (if you are not always!) powerless to help them because All You Can Do Is Ever Observe#i also imagine it was like the wols vision of the oracle. where they know theyre being watched#and they can turn to face uri right before they fall. :) and die :) and the world descends into the eigth calamity#the death of the worlds pillar and then the world itself as every constant is suddenly torn into jarring disarray#and uri lands in the crystarium and he is crying but doesnt understand why or how#(it is fear it is loss it is the terror of the inevitable)#he has been given the visions he always read about and now he feels personally the grandiose scope of prophecy and how heavily it weighs#and how he Has To get the words out right but how is he supposed to communicate exactly the weight of it!! how is he supposed to say all the#se things when he cant easily parse the impact of it all he cant figure out how to communicate the burning of it#and he understands a bit better that the prophecies he scoured over must have hurt and weighed and frightened and how#its not the same any more even the long gone ones#aaaaaAAAAAAAA#im going to EAT A BRICK#me chewing on gravel this elf loves his friends and the world and the wol so much and he cares but he doesnt KNOW HOW#I HAVE A LOT OF THOUGHTS AND FEELINGS AND THE FEELINGS ARE AAAAAAAAAAAURGH#I TOLD MYSELF I WAS GOING TO BE NORMAL ABOUT THIS BUT IM GOING TO EAT TWELVE BRICKS
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it’s been like ten years since i read it and im still not over the book i read that was like “he had never been completely naked in the last thirty years, not even for sex” like my guy that didn’t even break the top twenty questions i had
#dear Thomas Clancy: do you shower with your socks on?#also why was this a relevant point?#it was supposed to be like. a show of No Vulnerability#but frankly that’s kind of insane???#i really just can’t get around the fact that that one sentence creates a world where#either this man has one body part that is absolutely rank from never having been declothed#or he has some kind of regular rotation to decide what article of clothing he wears into the shower so he makes sure everything gets cleaned#I have considered baths of course#but it changes nothing about this scenario#besides the possible third option that he shoves his hands down his swim trunks and scrubs violently#but even BESIDES the utter ridiculousness of the statement#being afraid to ever be completely naked is like the most vulnerable thing i can think of#you are like a little deer; beautiful yet easily frightened#like was the author aware of just how much that signposted this character as having self-image problems?#absolutely not but in a way that merely reflected his own self-image problems
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Do you prefer reviews in the form of AO3 comments or Tumblr tags? Because I'm five minutes into writing tags and starting to realize this might be strange of me...
oopsie!omens pt 11- St. James Park, 1862
They don't listen, break up ensues.
prev chp / kofi / AO3
#good omens#oopsie!omens#there is NEVER a bad time to have azazel dress fem#she's so gorgeous and i love her#LOL at her expression when talking about pears#i feel like everyone has slightly different interpretations of what aziraphale was trying to do in that line#this feels like a real 'head empty no thoughts' moment#not trying to distract jophiel#just like#'pears...'#although it's still a pretty effective tactic because jophiel is having SUCH a hard time with this conversation#so he could probably be frightened off from it pretty easily#i love that jophiel's owl joke was actually effective!!#azazel's little smile!!#'i do indeed have ears you silly goose'#('don't call me a goose!' 'whatever you say deer')#and then JESUS CHRIST THE HELLFIRE#i did NOT put together that jophiel would be asking her for THE THING SHE HAS PERSONALLY FALLEN INTO#USE SOME GODDAMN TACT MAN#(i've written so many tags omg)#(if tumblr eats my tags i'm going to bite someone)#(anyway)#jophiel dotting his i's with a star - because he made stars! - is so excellent#and it's still all caps because he's an engineer of course#azazel made a hard turn from assuming it's a suicide pill to believing jophiel when he says it isn't#i guess he really does believe jophiel despite everything!#...of course he has no reason to think that jophiel already broke his promise millennia ago by snooping around into azazel's past#(that feels like one of the things that might get hashed out in one of their many divorces)#jophiel reaching out for azazel's hand omg T_T#is that the closest they've come to holding hands?? T_____T
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backtracking through TME again and im still utterly in awe of Helene and her writing
I thought by the time i reached episode 72 that her story arc was mostly cleaned up. We got to learn that she does care about Lyla and that she's basically the asshole with a heart of gold stereotype wrapped in a few layers of pettiness and a faint hint of immaturity on her part.
...But now im realizing there MUST be still a lot to her character to go. There's just no way there's not. Between the missing event that turned Helene against Lyla and the way Helene warned Lyla not to trust or get close to her...not to mention we still haven't addressed the reason why OG!Helene destroyed the world in the first place...man, I LOVE that there's still more to her character to go
Helene is literally everything I have ever wanted to see in a character wrapped into one. I'm still shook she exists, that the whole of TME's plot never forgets her or shelves her potential.
She's a gal who has never gotten the chance to really mature into the person she should be due to Lyla's continued existence. She's petty and mean but her original saintly nature seems to be still intact. She's a walking contradiction: both cruel and kind and brave yet afraid. The amount of complexity and depth invested into her is honestly astonishing. And I wouldn't be surprised if she's heading for a villain arc considering her ties with her mother and the hints that she has a hand in the deaths of the empire's mages.
And I just,,,, god,,,, I want to create characters on the same level as Helene (and as the rest of this cast, actually). And while im currently in a rut with OC stuff due to being overwhelmed (and in a "what's the point" mindset lmao), this manga is SUCH an inspiration for me and all i wanna do is cling onto it and hope it never ends :'D
#the mighty extra#im checking every day for the S3 announcement ngl#also as im backtracking through the story again im starting to wonder if i got gaslit by the protag into thinking Helene is a good person#because one interesting thing about Helene is she's shown and told to be a good person but there's kind of no reason for her to be lmao#hard to put into words but i wouldn't be surprised if everyone is pushing the image of saintliness onto Helene and putting her under duress#I don't think she's a bad person persay and the narrative has EASILY reinforced her intent to help others like a saintly person#but damn do I also think there's a heavy deity-ification surrounding Helene from everyone around Lyla and that's not the best take to have-#on someone who is so fundamentally flawed as a human being that I could easily argue Helene isn't as mature as she's portrayed#which#relatable!!!#but also Lyla's inherent worship of Helene as the heroine of the og story is so fascinating to watch because Lyla literally treats Helene-#as if she can't do anything wrong (and if she does do something off she's got her heart in the right place) and watching Helene go off on-#Paris in the most eerie way possible suggests that's REALLY NOT THE CASE#the way Helene has shown so many different faces though is so good ngl#around her father she's clear about her distaste for him that she doesn't at all hide it#in front of her mother she's helpless and frightened and has no choice but to appease her mom in any way possible#in front of Lyla she's conflicted and beats around the bush regarding her intentions as she can't let Lyla know she still cares#in front of Paris her prejudice for Kylon's dragons shows and she isn't at all afraid to become openly manipulative towards him#Add to this her shown hostility towards Fian and the way she seems to look down on Odelia and she's such a dynamic gal#also on the note of Odelia im totes shipping Odelia/Rosalyn lmao#i like Rosalyn/Phillip but the moment Odelia said “hey lemme help you get what you want” i went “oh god i ship it”
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one of my oc's persona is the concept of the boogeyman & i'm looking for art to represent it & some of these images are genuinely terrifying lmfao
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I keep having dreams about Kali or getting another black cat and just... I miss my little Kali cat so much??? She passed away in 2022 and I'm still dreaming about her.
#she was such a sweet cat#so cuddly and smoochyi#i miss her a lot#:(#i can't get another black cat right now because of the two boys#alister is almost 18 and i don't wanna stress him out like that#and sam is 13 and is easily upset/frightened and has hyperthyroidism#not a good time to get another cat unfortunately#fox talks
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8:16pm — December 25th, 2023
I may be a little sad but hey, my aunt’s cat didn’t run under the bed when I came into her room to lay down and instead stayed on the bed with me, so maybe I shouldn’t kill myself :)
Also Merry Christmas everyone 🎁🎄🎅🏾
#btw he’s a very skittish cat and gets easily frightened by loud noises or people#so he’s often in my aunts room or running around outside#and when people come into my aunts room he immediately hides under the bed#he did that when I first started staying in my aunts room#so for him to just stay on the bed when I come in to lay down and not move is just 🥹🥹#like bro trusts me#I’ve earned the trust of a cat#i shall never want anything more#also he makes little honks when he sleeps
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exposure therapy | aemond targaryen x reader
summary: anonymous requested; you and aemond were recently married. you're afraid of him, but aemond goes to great lengths to show you he's not that scary.
warnings: excessive use of ellipses, #1 wife lover aemond targaryen, brief mention of childhood trauma, smut. (fingering, face riding, oral.)
a. note:link to the original request.
As Aemond's new wife, it's surprising how little time you spend together. The servants whisper about it around every corner; how you skulk through the halls hoping to avoid him, how nearly every meal you take is apart from each other.
But there's a very good reason for this, one that you've never admitted to anyone.
You are terrified of him.
Even at night, you might share the same bed, but it's big enough that you can sleep soundly without ever once touching him. Although even that was difficult at first; those first few nights you dreaded climbing into bed with him and got nearly no sleep at all.
He is so much bigger, and much stronger, than you. He really could do anything he wanted to you and you would have no chance of fighting him off.
Eventually, however, Aemond's still body beside yours throughout the night, you realized he either wouldn't, or didn't want to, touch you. And finally you were able to get some sleep.
But now, though sleep comes much more easily and your nights are no longer fraught with peril at the thought of him forcing himself upon you, it still doesn't mean you have any desire to be around him.
And you thought he felt much the same. Until tonight.
Aemond is already comfortable on the settee by the window, reading, when you retire to your shared bedchamber for the night.
Hells bent as usual on ignoring him, you busy yourself with removing your shoes in front of the wardrobe.
"Come. Sit with me."
In the quiet of the room, Aemond's sudden, uncharacteristic, voice makes you jump, going very still. His tone is soft; now that you think on it, you've heard Aemond's voice very few times, either before or after you were married.
In your mind, the few times you had heard him speak, you remember him sounding like a complete barbarian. Not this lilting, almost melodic, softness....
Straightening, you nervously smooth the skirts of your dress down over your thighs. Aemond's silhouette is stark against the candles guttering on the windowsill.
You gulp, starting to tiptoe toward him, but stopping at the opposite arm of the settee. "Do I have to?" You ask quietly, and even that takes every ounce of courage in your weary body.
This is probably as close as you've ever been to him when not in bed together at night.
"I won’t bite." Aemond's lips are quirked in a half smirk. He closes the book in his hands and sets it aside, patting the space beside him. "I assure you, I won’t hurt you. Come. Sit."
Though he had indicated the middle cushion, you sweep your skirts under you and take a seat on the one beside it, furthest from Aemond.
Normally you would have loved sitting and reading by candlelight, the cool breeze from the open windows ruffling your hair.
But now you bite your lip, heart hammering hard against your ribcage like a frightened bird.
Aemond can feel the tension radiating off of you. Your shoulders tight as a bow string, the muscles in your jaw taut, hands folded in your lap fidgeting with a loose thread on your gown.
He simple looks at you for a very long moment. Your features are delicate, almost fragile, your frame small and dainty when compared to his. To Aemond, you look very much like a porcelain doll. He has no idea how someone could be so beautiful and yet so…. breakable.
You glance nervously at him, wondering what he could possibly be thinking.
"What?" You ask, though you keep your voice low, not wanting to anger him.
"You're afraid of me," Aemond states bluntly. He leans against the back of the settee, studying you with one intense purple eye. "Why?"
You laugh aloud, unable to stop yourself. Now seems as good a time as any to tell him exactly what you've been thinking since your wedding day.
"Look at you. And look at me. You could do whatever you want to me and I wouldn't be able to stop you. Not to mention...." You shrug. "The stories about you aren't kind...."
Aemond raises an eyebrow at your laughter, that same small, wry smile never leaving his lips. He can't help but wonder if you're mocking him as he leans forward, gaze still locked with yours.
"And what do the stories say about me, little wife?" His voice is low, a dangerous, frightening edge to it.
For seemingly the first time, you look your husband in the eye. One piercing violet eye stares back, the other covered by his customary eyepatch. "They say you're a fearsome warrior, one of the strongest swordsmen alive. And they say.... they say you killed that boy. Rhaenyra's son...."
Aemond’s eye narrows. There is so much uncertainty in that gaze of yours, something about your innocent face makes Aemond feel.... bad. His jaw clenches and he leans back.
"Lucerys Velaryon. Yes, I did kill him. Though I didn't mean to.... I lost control."
"You didn't?" Your eyes narrow as well, suspicious of him. "Then.... what did you mean to do?"
Your husband lets out a long sigh and crosses his arms. "I meant to scare him. I was.... angry. I wanted to teach him a lesson, to frighten and humiliate him. And I did not have such good control over Vhagar as I do now...."
At the mention of his dragon, you perk up - that's one thing you've always been curious about. The Targaryen dragons are so beautiful and powerful; you would love to ride one one day, if given the chance.
"So your dragon, she disobeyed you?"
Aemond is clearly taken aback by your interest in Vhagar. For a moment, it seemed you forgot you were supposed to be scared of him. He tries to hide the hint of surprise flickering across his face.
"Well, yes and no," Aemond says, diplomatic. "Vhagar is a very old and powerful dragon, and she is used to doing what she wants. Sometimes.... it's difficult for any Targaryen to control a dragon, even the strongest of riders."
You are positively fascinated, hearing about Vhagar, leaning in toward Aemond without realizing. "What is it like, riding her? Does it ever get cold, so high up?"
Aemond can smell your perfume as you lean toward him, a mix of jasmine and honey, faint yet sweet. He clears his throat.
"Riding Vhagar is like nothing else," he tells you. "And yes, it does get cold at times, but the feeling of the wind in your hair and the power of the dragon beneath you is.... indescribable."
"Do you think she'd let me ride her?" At this point, you're nearly nose to nose with Aemond, eyes sparkling with curiosity. "Or do they only let Targaryens?"
Aemond freezes, gaze still locked with yours, your heads so close together that he can feel your breath ghost across his lips. He is surprised by your question and even more surprised by how badly he wants to fulfill the request.
"They only let Targaryens ride them, yes," he says, voice sounding much huskier than he intends. "But.... I'm sure Vhagar wouldn't mind letting someone else ride her.... if I were to accompany them."
"Would you?" You reach out, hand finding his thigh and giving a thankful squeeze. Realizing what you've done, how close you've become to him, you quickly snatch that hand back as though Aemond is on fire. "I'm so sorry...."
Aemond’s eye widens; for a heartbeat, your touch sent a shock through his entire body.
"It's alright." His voice is rough. “Don’t apologize....” He catches your wrist gently, before you can pull your hand away completely. "It was.... nice."
You tense, wrist caught in his strong embrace. "What are you doing?"
For a long moment, Aemond doesn't respond, simply staring at your slender wrist in his hand. Your skin is so smooth, so soft. He can feel your pulse beating against his palm, fast and fluttering like the wings of a small bird.
"Doing?" He finally asks, looking up at you with a sly smile. "Just.... holding your hand, that’s all."
"Holding my.... oh." All things considered, Aemond is handsome, you suppose. With his long silver hair, that chiseled jaw, the little moue of his lips. "You.... you really aren't all that scary, are you?"
Chuckling softly, Aemond's fingers gently stroke the skin of your wrist. Your words, spoken almost as a question, take him by surprise.
"I'm not trying to scare you," he says, his voice low and slightly amused. "And I don’t want to be scary, to you. Can I be honest with you, little wife?"
You nod, letting him continue to stroke that sensitive bit of skin around your wrist. He is very gentle, which has taken you by surprise.
"The truth is," he mutters, "I don't like it when you're scared of me. I don't like the way you look at me, as if you think I'm going to pounce on you and tear you apart at any moment. That's not what I want."
Slowly, still wary of him, you curl your fingers around his thumb and Aemond's breath hitches. Your hand is small compared to his; Aemond's fingers look massive beside yours.
"Everyone else seems so frightened of you. I thought.... I should be as well. I didn't know, that you hadn't meant to kill that boy. Have you told anyone else that?"
“No,” he says after a moment. “No one else knows. I haven't told anyone.”
He pauses, looking down at your hand in his. His other hand comes to trap your fingers inside of his palms, his thumbs tracing back and forth over your skin. “You’re the first I've shared this with.”
"You should tell others, that way no one will be scared of you."
Aemond lets out a soft chuckle, his gaze still fixed on your fingers intertwined with his own.
“I quite like others being afraid of me,” he admits. The smile on his face fades, just a bit, in the flickering candlelight. “But not you.”
"Not me?" You query, a sweet blush rising high on your cheeks. "Why not me?"
Aemond’s eye is drawn to that color blooming across your cheeks, the innocent flush sending a strange feeling coursing through him. He continues to stroke your wrist in a gentle, almost reverent, way.
"A wife should not be afraid of her husband," he says finally, his voice soft. "She should be worshipped by him....”
Slowly, so as not to startle you, he brings your wrist to his lips and places a gentle kiss there.
You lick your lips, nervous as all seven hells with the way things are going. Not only are you still afraid of Aemond - though growing less so by the moment - you have also never been close like this with anyone else before.
"And why.... why is it so important for other people to be afraid of you?"
Aemond’s lips linger over your skin, the faintest ghost of a smile there. He can feel the way your hand trembles slightly in his, the nervous flutter of your pulse against his fingertips. But he also notices how you don’t draw back, how you sit still and allow him to hold you.
“It's.... payback, almost,” he confesses. “For the torment I suffered as a child. It is better to be feared than loved - no one will ever again treat me the way they did when I was young.”
You are not aware of any torment in Aemond's childhood, though that isn't saying much. Of course the Targaryens keep much of what goes on between them a secret. Even now that you're married, you're hardly privy to all - or even most - of their secrets.
"Is that.... how this happened?" Shaking ever so slightly, you raise a hand to Aemond's face, fingers stroking the strap of his eyepatch.
As your slender fingers brushed against the edge of it, Aemond tenses, every muscle in his body going taut. No one has ever touched him there before, and it's an unfamiliar intimacy.
He closes his eye for a moment, trying to control his reaction, before speaking. “Yes,” he says, his voice thick with emotions he finds difficult to name. “That's how this happened.”
You feel for Aemond; having to grow up that way must have been torture.
Pulling your hand gently from his grasp, you bring both up to hook beneath the rough leather strap. "May I?"
His breathing hitches as your hands tug gently at the straps of his eyepatch. He knows your touch is innocent.... but no one has ever dared to remove it for him before. He nods once, his voice low.
“You may.”
With fierce concentration and a desire not to ruin his perfect hair, you slide the eyepatch up and off, gasping at the gorgeous sapphire glimmering where his eye should be.
"Gods, it's beautiful, Aemond." Letting the patch rest in your lap, you run your fingers lightly over the scar tissue below Aemond's eye. "Who did this to you?"
Aemond's breath hitches again, rougher this time, as he feels the tips of your slender fingers graze the scarred tissue around his eye, the touch stirring something deep within him. The feeling of your touch against the sensitive skin there is almost overwhelming.
He swallows hard, that old pain and anger bubbling up inside of him.
"My.... nephew," he finally says, his voice surprisingly even. "Lucerys Velaryon."
You inhale sharply; all you can think of is that if Aemond had really meant to kill the boy, he would have been well within his right to, after having been mutilated like this.
Grabbing for his hands, you hurry to say something. "Aemond, I-"
But your husband cuts you off. "There is one other reason it's important for others to be afraid of me."
"A-And what is that?" You ask, holding his hands close to your bosom.
"So that I can protect my wife, and my family." That sapphire is positively glowing in the light of the flickering candles. "The more afraid people are of me, the less likely they are to try and harm me, or you, or our family.... once we make one...."
His declaration takes all the air from your lungs, and you find it hard to breathe. "If I had known all of this, I.... I would never have been so frightened of you. I'm sorry, Aemond."
You cast around desperately for something else to say, some other way to apologize.
"Do not apologize."
His voice is gentle, yet firm. Your hands are still holding his against your breast, and he can feel the warmth of your skin even through the layers of your gown, the rapid beat of your heart.
"You didn't know, it is not your fault for being afraid," he soothes you. "But.... now that you know.... may I ask you something else?"
You nod, eager now to answer Aemond's questions and to ask more of your own - you want to learn so much more about him.
Aemond's fingers tighten around yours, the feel of your soft skin against his own sending a strange heat through his veins. He draws you in a little closer, his face now so close to yours that he can feel the warmth of your breath, that same scent of sweet honey and jasmine in your hair.
"You.... have not shied away from my scar, or my missing eye," he says, his voice a low whisper. "You have touched them, caressed them even.... why?"
Why...? You find it odd he even has to ask.
"Because I think they make you beautiful. Is that wrong?"
Your thumbs find his wrists now, pressing in against his pulse points, which are fluttering erratically.
Aemond's breath catches in his throat, the feeling of your dainty thumbs resting against his wrists, feeling the rapid beating of his pulse, setting his skin on fire. Your words, declaring him beautiful, ring in his ears, stirring something deep within his chest.
"Be-Beautiful?" He repeats, his voice a terrible croak. No one.... no one has ever called him beautiful. The word sounds strange in his ears, as if they're not meant for someone like him.
You nod, and after only a momentary hesitation, you bring one hand up again to his scar. This time, brushing the side closest to his hairline, a few strands of long silver hair getting in the way.
"Beautiful, Aemond. You're beautiful. I mean.... I did always think that. Just.... was too afraid of you to tell you. Do you forgive me?"
Aemond's breath hitches once more as your fingers stroke his hair, your soft touch sending a shiver down his spine. No one, no one, has ever touched his scar with such tenderness, such care.
"I.... I forgive you," he whispers, voice raw. "And for what it's worth.... I'm sorry, that I.... that I made you afraid of me. I never wanted that, I swear."
"I know. It wasn't even your fault, really." You roll your eyes, relaxing against the back of the settee. "I was just.... assuming that what everyone else said was true. Which is a terrible thing, really. My parents raised me much better than that."
A particularly chilly gust of wind blows in through the window and you wrap your arms around yourself. "I have to admit, I thought if my shenanigans went on much longer, you'd be forced to.... well, force yourself on me...."
Aemond is silent, as if that thought, the notion of forcing himself on you, is something he refuses to even consider. He turns to look at you, the pale glow of his sapphire eye giving him an otherworldly appearance.
"I.... I would never force you to do anything, little wife, not ever," he says, his voice low and serious. "I believe the first time a man and wife.... are together.... it should be.... enjoyable.... for both of them."
Suddenly, all words are caught in your throat. The thought of your first time with Aemond still makes you nervous, even knowing that he would never want to do anything against your will.
"I thought.... a woman's first time was always painful?" That's what you've always been told. You have never done anything of the sort, but perhaps Aemond knows better.
At your words, Aemond's jaw tightens. His fingers clench into a fist, the thought of you in pain during your first time together sending a wave of anger through him.
"No. No, never. It shouldn't be painful, not unless you don't want it, too," he says, his voice low and urgent. "Your first time should be.... enjoyable. Pleasant. I would never take you simply for my own pleasure. I would make sure you...." he falters.
Flinching slightly away from him at the sight of his hand in a fist, you gasp softly. Have you said something wrong?
Still, you dare to ask, "You would make sure I what?"
In the candlelight, Aemond's eye flashes dangerously and that sapphire blazes.
He takes a very deep breath, forcing himself to relax, to open his hand again. "I'm sorry," he murmurs, "I.... I don't like the idea of hurting you, it.... makes me angry."
He looks down at you again.
"I would make sure that you.... felt pleasure as well. It wouldn't be about me. It's about both of us."
If you had known how protective Aemond was of you, you would have asked him about these things sooner. He is, after all, the only person you can think to ask. If you can't discuss bedroom matters with your husband, who can you discuss them with?
"How does it feel?" You ask him softly, scooting closer to him on the settee. "When you have sex, how does it feel?"
Aemond is taken somewhat off guard by the sudden question, his cheeks going pink at your unexpected candor, but he doesn't back down. He doesn't want to shy away from your questions, not when you're so close to him, peering at him through those wide, innocent eyes.
He takes another deep breath, shifting on the settee so he can face you fully.
"it.... it feels.... good," he begins, his voice a low rumble. "It feels.... full. Warm. Tight. But.... good. More than good, especially when you do it with someone you care about. It feels safe, like nothing can hurt you ever again."
The look on Aemond's face as he speaks is one you've never seen before - something vulnerable and almost childlike staring back at you. You wonder how you could ever have been afraid of him.
"And you? Who was your first time with?"
As your question hangs in the air between the two of you, Aemond goes stock-still. No one has ever asked him that before.
He hesitates for a moment, peering warily at you. "Why.... why do you want to know?" He asks finally, voice cautious.
Now you know you've definitely said something wrong. "I was just curious," you hurry to tell him. "It's wrong of me to pry, I'm sorry...."
Aemond sighs softly, shaking his head. "No, no, don't apologize," he says, his voice a light simper now. He reaches out, taking your hand gently in his.
"It's okay, I just.... wasn't expecting you to ask that." He pauses, and you can see a flicker of something run across his face. "You.... you really want to know?"
"I do," you admit bashfully. "If you feel comfortable telling me?"
Aemond's hand grips yours a little tighter, your words sending a strange, tight feeling through hm. He hasn't thought about that night in a long time, and the memory is still painful enough to make him wince.
"All right," he says, letting out a slow breath. "I.... I'll tell you. Just.... just don't.... don't judge me, all right?"
"I won't judge," you assure him with a shake of your head.
Aemond looks down at your intertwined hands, his fingers tracing a light pattern against your palm. He closes his eye, gathering his thoughts, before lifting your hand to his lips and pressing a barely-there kiss to your knuckles.
"My.... my first time," he begins, and his voice is rough, "was with a whore, in a pleasure house, at the behest of my brother who frequented - and still frequents - them much more than I did."
"I don't think that's anything to be ashamed of," you admit, mulling the idea over. "Most men visit those types of places at some point in their lives.... don't they?"
Aemond pauses for a moment, his eye locking with yours. He looks almost surprised by your response, as if he hadn't thought you would be so blasé about the situation.
"Yes...." he says slowly, "they do. But.... it's not.... it's not the sort of thing a wife would expect to hear, about their husband's past exploits."
You chew your lip thoughtfully, running your fingers around and through the spaces between Aemond's. "I don't mind, as long as...."
You hesitate, wondering if you really want to say this now or leave it for another night. "What I mean to say, Aemond, is that.... now that we understand each other better.... perhaps you can show me what it's like? Sex? And, if you do, I expect there to be no more pleasure houses in your future, is that clear?"
Aemond's gaze darkens as your words register, his heart stuttering in his chest. His fingers twitch against yours, breath catching in his throat.
"You.... you want me to show you...?" He repeats weakly, his eye wide and disbelieving.
You close your fingers tightly around Aemond's now, leaning in toward your husband. "Mm. But as I said, you must promise - no more pleasure houses. After all, you did say you want to worship me, did you not?"
Aemond's head swims with your words, his heart hammering in his chest so hard it's difficult to catch his breath. The way you're looking at him, the sweetness in your voice, the scent of honey and jasmine in your hair.... all of it is almost too much to bear.
He swallows hard, and nods. "No more pleasure houses. I promise," he whispers, his voice hoarse and rough.
His oath sets you at ease, but there's one more thing you must tell him.
"I must admit, Aemond, I'm still scared...."
He looks about to interrupt, but you cut him off. "Oh, not of you. I'm.... terrified of the pain. I've never done well with pain, and I'm so scared it's going to hurt like hell."
Aemond's heart twists at the worry and fear in your voice, his fingers tightening over yours. He hates the thought of you being scared, hates his own inability to take that fear away from you.
"Why do you still think it's going to be painful?" He asks quietly.
Instead of making you feel trapped, his fingers around yours make you feel safe. Aemond is lethal; you can see it in his face, in the hard line of his body. But he wants to use all of that to protect you....
Though what could he possibly do to prevent his own body from hurting you, even though he might not mean to?
"That's all I've ever been told." You gulp. "A woman's first time is always painful. And.... There's always blood."
Aemond's jaw clenches in anger. He doesn't know who planted these false, hurtful notions in your head, but he wants to tear them limb from limb.
He reaches out to you, tilting your head gently up to meet his gaze. "No. No, no, no," he says, his voice low and intense. "It's not supposed to be painful, especially the first time. You've just.... you've been told wrong."
He pauses. "Sometimes there is blood, I won't lie to you about that. But there are ways to minimize the chance of that."
Aemond's fingers start to skirt back and forth under your chin. "How .... How can we stop there being so much blood? I want you to show me."
Heart now beating much faster, Aemond's stomach twists with a mixture of desire and trepidation. He swallows, hard, his eye dark and heavy-lidded as he gazes down at you.
He runs his fingers through your hair, the soft feel of it against his skin maddening. "I can show you," he murmurs, "but.... you have to trust me."
"Of course. I do now." You turn your face toward his hand, palm skimming your cheek as he touches your hair. "I know you'll take care of me."
He takes another deep breath to steady himself, his hand coming to rest against the side of your face, thumb tracing the line of your jaw. "Good," he whispers, "because I will, always. But there's something.... something I need to know first."
You shiver, Aemond's fingers reverent along your cheek and jaw. "What is it?"
Fingers now trailing down your neck, he pauses, hand coming to rest on your collarbone, your pulse beating fast and hard against his palm.
Aemond leans in close, his voice a rumble in your ear. "You.... you have never even been touched, have you?"
You are very aware of how hard your heart is beating, thumping underneath his fingers. "I haven't.... is that bad?"
Aemond breathes heavily, pulling back to look at you.
"No," he says emphatically, "it's not bad. It's.... it's just...." He trails off for a moment, struggling to find the words. "I need to know.... if you're still.... if you're still intact."
The question makes you blush furiously, looking down at your laps, side by side, so you don't have to look Aemond in the eye. "I.... yes.... isn't that where the blood comes from?"
You don't know much, but you do know that.
He places two fingers gently under your chin, coaxing you to look up at him again.
"Yes," he says, "that's where the blood comes from. But it can break in other ways. For instance, from fingers or.... other objects." His fingers trace along your cheek, obviously trying to soothe your growing discomfort at this conversation.
"But it.... it doesn't have to," he adds after a moment.
You chuckle, reluctantly meeting Aemond's gaze. "Can we try?"
He takes a moment to steady himself, his hand now trailing back down your neck, slowly caressing. "Are you sure? Absolutely sure?"
You nod fervently, gripping onto his wrist. "Positively. Now that I understand you better, I can think of no one else I'd like to teach me such things...."
He leans in, lips brushing your ear again, breath hot against your skin. "Then I will," he murmurs, his voice an uneven, ragged whisper, "I will show you. And I will take my time."
Long have you waited for someone to come along and share this experience with you. When you were initially betrothed to Aemond, you thought all hope was lost - he was so frightening and the thought of sharing a bed with him sent a shiver of panic through you.
But now.... Women have desires just as much as men do, surely... At least you know you do. And Aemond is offering to take care of them for you....
You steady yourself with a hand on Aemond's chest, nails digging into the soft cotton of his tunic. "Please.... I want it."
Aemond's stomach clenches, your soft, pleading voice sending a bolt of white hot desire through him.
"Patience," he murmurs, his sizeable palm laid against the back of your hand on his chest, "I'll take care of you, I promise. I just need you to relax for me, all right?"
"Mm, I'll try...." With another nod, you take a deep breath, shuddering at the feeling of Aemond's big hand covering yours entirely. "Maybe a drink would serve to relax me better...?"
This gives Aemond pause, and he pulls back slightly, his eye raking over your face, taking in the soft blush on your cheeks, the way your lips are parted as you catch your breath.
He gives a single, slow nod. "Yes," he admits, "I think a drink might help."
Without another word, he moves to a small table on the other side of the room, pouring you each a generous glass of sweet wine.
As he does so, you finger the pendant at your throat, a gift from your late mother. The way Aemond looks at you; any woman would be lucky to have a husband who looks at her that way. Like you're precious, like he would do anything to protect you.
Once offered your glass, you take it and swallow a large mouthful, hoping to get drunk as quickly as possible, to make this whole ordeal more bearable.
Aemond watches you closely, a small frown tugging at the corners of his mouth as he sees you gulp the wine so quickly. He knows you're trying to get drunk, trying to use the alcohol as a crutch to make this easier.
"There's no need to rush," he says quietly, taking a seat beside you again, his knee bumping yours. He lifts his own glass to his lips, taking a slow, measured drink.
Swallowing another substantial mouthful of wine, you furtively watch the way Aemond's lips purse around the rim of his glass.
You smooth the skirts of your dress down, taking a deep breath. "I just want to be as relaxed as possible for you, Aemond."
He continues to watch you, that striking violet eye taking in every tiny detail - the way your fingers grasp the fabric of your dress, the soft movement of your body underneath the silk.
He takes a deep breath, his eye watching you as he drains the last of the wine from the glass. "I know," he murmurs, his voice a husky rumble, "but there's no need to get completely drunk, my love."
"It can't hurt." You upend the first glass of wine, draining the last dregs, and hold your glass out toward him. "Another?"
Apparently highly amused, Aemond raises a brow, but refuses to pour you another.
"I think that's quite enough. There's no need to be quite so drunk tonight, I promise."
You pout, setting your glass aside, but starting to feel a pleasant warmth wash over you from the first glass all the same.
"How do we start?" You question, leaning in close to him. Aemond smells of chamomile and sweat and.... maybe just a hint of blood? It's the best thing you've ever smelled.
Aemond reaches for you suddenly, his hands moving to your hips, pulling you gently onto his lap so you can straddle him.
The next breath he takes rattles through him as you settle on top of him, his hands gripping your waist, heart beating fast. "We.... we start here," he whispers, his voice a rough murmur.
"Goodness," you breathe, hands curling over his shoulders to steady yourself. "And.... what do we do here?"
You're trying your best to be brave, and the wine is making it easier, but there is still that niggling worry at the back of your mind, chanting blood blood blood.
Aemond feels that slight tremble in your hands as you grab his shoulders, the way you hesitate and swallow nervously as you ask your question. He can practically hear your thoughts racing, paying attention to the fear and trepidation in your words.
He leans in close, hands slipping from your waist to bracket your ribs, pulling you flush against him, your body cradled easily in his lap. "We start like this," he murmurs, his fingers gently tilting your chin up to look at him. "Just like this."
Slowly, fingers gentle but firm on your chin, he's bringing you in for a kiss.
The sound that leaves your mouth at the first dry press of your lips together is embarrassing. You curse. "I'm sorry." You bite your lip hard, searching Aemond's one violet eye for forgiveness. "Can we try again?"
Aemond chuckles good-naturedly, hands coming up to cup your face, thumbs tracing slow, gentle patterns over your cheeks.
"You have nothing to apologize for," he whispers, leaning ever closer to you, his breath hot against your lips. "We can try as many times as you like, darling."
With a hand again around his wrist to steady yourself, you don't have far to go, what with Aemond's face so close to yours. You press your lips to his - soft yet firm. Your other hand slides up the outside of his thigh as you open your mouth under his, grateful for his willingness to teach you.
You hear Aemond's breath hitch again as he feels your hand moving up his leg, the touch of your slim, soft fingers against his body sending a shiver down his spine. He groans as you open your mouth, his tongue immediately seeking yours, tangling, tasting, claiming.
He grips your hair in one hand, angling your head back so he can deepen the kiss, his other hand back to gripping your hip, pulling you tighter against him.
You do the same, hands migrating down, loving the feeling of Aemond's slim, strong muscle under your fingers. As you kiss, you surreptitiously move the thin cloth of Aemond's tunic aside so you can touch him skin to skin over his sharp hipbones.
This earns you a keen inhale from your husband, who jerks away from you.
"I'm sorry," you breathe. "Is this okay?"
His mouth has opened in a gasp against yours, eyes squeezing shut.
When they open again, he merely looks at you, taking in the soft, pink flush of your cheeks, the way your pupils are thoroughly dilated, your chest heaving. He takes a deep breath, steadying himself. "Yes," he says ruggedly, his voice a scratchy gasp, "I'm sorry, it is. It's okay."
A flood of warmth washes over you, and you grin. You don't know why, but you want to kiss his neck.
Fingers digging hard into his hip, you lean in, nosing his long hair out of the way as your lips meet his neck, sucking and biting. Aemond tastes clean and faintly of rose water.
Aemond's head tips back immediately, giving your lips and teeth free reign over his neck, his skin breaking out in gooseflesh at the unfamiliar sensation. A soft, low moan escapes him as your mouth traces a path along the sensitive skin of his neck.
His body arches against yours. "My love," he gasps, his voice a ragged, breathless plea, "this is maddening."
"Need you to teach me," is your reply, pushing harder against him. "Don't go mad just yet."
He runs his hands down your sides, skimming over the soft, silky material of your dress, his body reacting powerfully to your closeness. "Gods, woman," he gasps, thumbs playing idly along the edge of your ribs, "are you sure you haven't done this before?"
You rest your cheek on Aemond's shoulder, nose brushing along the chiseled line of his jaw. "Positive," you sigh, arms now slung around him. "But I like the way you touch me. It's making me feel all hot and wet.... down there."
At this declaration, Aemond makes a noise you've never heard anyone make before. He nuzzles against your collarbone, pressing slow, hot kisses along the line of your chest just visible over the collar of your dress.
His mouth is starting to curve into a wicked smile. "Do you want me to touch you there, too?"
With a nod, you begin to pull the folds of your dress up over your thighs. "Please. The feeling down there, it's.... very insistent." And Aemond's fingers look perfectly long and warm and rough with calluses.
Aemond swallows hard as he watches the fabric of your dress retreat up over your thighs, the soft, bare skin of your legs suddenly exposed to him. His gaze rakes over you, taking in every detail - the soft, pale flesh, the way the candlelight casts shadows over the curves of your body.
As though trying not to startle you, Aemond runs his knuckles painstakingly slowly up the inside of your thigh. "When we were first betrothed, I knew I had gotten lucky."
That drunken haze still hovering around you, you let your legs slip further apart around him. "Lucky? How so?"
His hand moves further up, touch feather-light against her skin. "Lucky," he murmurs, "because I knew I'd be marrying the most beautiful woman in all Seven Kingdoms."
He lets his hand move higher still, fingers stopping just before they reach the edge of your smallclothes. He pauses, looking intently at you, the question plain on his face.
"I never knew you thought I was beautiful...." You lean more against him, feeling impossibly safe and comfortable in his embrace. "Please. You can."
Hips canting forward, you try to push his hand in toward you.
"The most beautiful," he replies. He can feel your hips moving subtly against his, feel his own desire rising with every move you make.
Those long fingers hook into the edge of your smallclothes, running the backs of his knuckles along the sensitive bit of skin he finds there.
Your eyes flutter shut, the feeling of his gentle fingers finally scooping up under your dress making your stomach flip nervously. "Please." The word is uttered against Aemond's chin, where you've pressed your lips as you wait to feel his hand where you need it most.
As slowly as he an manage, he insinuates those fingers fully inside your smallclothes. He can feel the heat of your skin, the way you squirm in his lap as he moves closer to his destination, his own body reacting strongly to the anticipation.
He leans in, mouth finding yours in a heated, hungry kiss, his fingers finally, finally touching that wet, sensitive flesh between your thighs.
A sharp inhale accompanies the meeting of Aemond's hand to your sex. Everything down there feels so wet already, you suppose you should be embarrassed, but the wine is making it hard to feel so, which you're grateful for.
"Aemond...." Seeking his lips for another kiss, you mutter, "please don't stop."
One long finger sinks into your wet, hot flesh, his entire body shivering at the feeling of you beneath his hands. He lets out a ragged gasp as you kiss him, mouth moving fervently against yours, tongue delving into your mouth, tangling with yours.
With a low, gruff noise, he starts to move his finger inside of you, slow, gentle circles that make your muscles tighten and twitch against his hand. "I won't," he murmurs against your lips, his eyes squeezed shut, "I promise, I won't."
Aemond's finger has slid easily into you, all the way down to the knuckle. "Is it -?" You gasp, glancing down, tugging your skirts out of the way to see better. "It's inside? I thought it would be much more painful...."
You know it might not be the same with his manhood, which is surely a fair bit bigger than one of his fingers, but you're glad things have gone smoothly so far all the same.
Aemond's other hand presses itself solidly against that little bundle of nerves, the one you're familiar with, the one that makes you see stars, and you bite his lower lip a little too hard in response.
"Shit, sorry."
Aemond lets out a low chuckle at your reaction, his lips curving into a smile against your mouth. "No need to apologize, sweet girl," he mutters. "There's a possibility it might hurt more than this when we go further, but I promise I'll be gentle."
He moves his finger in and out of you slowly, his other hand still pressing against you, the pad of his thumb circling that swollen bud, his touch gentle but firm. "How does this feel?"
A pang of fear shoots through you at his declaration that you will likely be in pain later on, but it's soothed by the way Aemond's fingers are gently coaxing themselves inside of you and over your clit.
"It feels perfect, Aemond. I never even knew it could feel this good." Not even when you'd touched yourself in bed at night.
Aemond's eye darkens as he hears your words, the sound of your voice, gutted and breathless, making his stomach clench. "This is just the beginning, sweet girl. There's so much more I can show you."
He slips another finger into you, feeling your body tighten and go taut around him, his own body still reacting powerfully to the sight and feel of you. He leans in to kiss you again, his mouth hungrily claiming yours.
With another finger inside, you start to squirm in his lap, and your hand slips, colliding with something hard inside of Aemond's trousers.
"Aemond," you gasp, "it.... it's hard."
Aemond lets out a strangled noise as your hand brushes against him, his body shuddering, his eye squeezing shut. "Ah, shit, sweetheart," he gasps, his breath ragged, "Don't do that."
He looks at you, his breath coming in quick, rough pants, his eye darkened to a deep, intense violet. "I'm going to be patient with you."
He says this like he's trying to convince himself of it.
"I'm sorry," you gasp again, hands flying to your mouth. "I didn't mean to touch it...."
Gaze flickering to the windows, to the Targaryen flags flying from every turret, you stifle a smile. "But maybe.... maybe you don't have to be so patient...."
Aemond growls at your words, fingers slowing their ministrations over you. "How impatient would you have me be?"
You reach down to take his free hand - the one currently touching your clit in nice, soft circles - in yours, lacing your fingers as you lean into him. "Still gentle, just.... Maybe lead me? Show me how things like this should be done."
Aemond can practically feel his self-restraint slipping at your words, the feeling of your small, soft hand in his making his head spin. He takes a deep breath, trying desperately to maintain control, to keep up the facade of gentility.
He grips your chin with his free hand, lifting your face to meet his eye, his voice low and rough. "Are you sure you're ready for that?" He asks, the question almost pained.
"I am. I'm sure." You wrap your shoulders around him, burying your face against his neck. "Take me to bed and show me, please."
Aemond swallows hard, the feeling of your breath against him sending a shudder through him. Lifting you easily in his arms, he stands silently from the settee.
The loss of Aemond's fingers from inside of you makes you whine, clinging to his broad shoulders as he makes his way to the bed.
He lays you gently down, crawling over you, hand once again trailing up the soft expanse of your thigh.
"Aemond...."
A sweet noise rumbles through him as he positions himself on top of you, body pressing you down against the covers, hips slotting between your legs. His gaze as he looks down on you is fiery, eye raking over your body, hands gripping and kneading the supple flesh of your thighs.
"You drive me mad, do you know that?" He murmurs. He leans down to kiss your neck, his mouth hot and insistent against your skin.
With Aemond on top of you, you reach around to tug the back of his tunic up, skimming your fingers along the warm skin of his lower back.
"Why did you never.... tell me before?" You mutter quietly, nibbling at Aemond's earlobe.
Aemond allows himself a deep moan as you touch him, your fingers roaming over his skin, your mouth on his ear. He rolls his hips against you, the aching hardness of his body weighing you down.
"Gods, I don't know," he gasps, his hands roaming over the soft curves of your body. "Maybe I could tell you were afraid of me. Maybe I was a fool."
"I suppose we both were fools." You curl your tongue around Aemond's ear, teasing.
His hardness is pressing insistently against you through your clothes. Aemond leans his forehead to yours. "I'm going to take your dress off now. Is that alright?"
You've never been naked in front of anyone before, but Aemond is making you feel so safe that you nod hurriedly, sitting up. "Yes, please."
Aemond's eye darkens at your nod, his hands immediately going to the laces of your dress, working them loose until the fabric falls away from your body. He lets his gaze roam over your exposed skin, his fingers tracing the soft planes of your body, reverent and gentle.
"Seven Hells," he mutters, his voice a ragged whisper, "I've never seen anything so perfect."
The wine allows you to feel comfortable enough to stretch out over top of your discarded dress, staring up at him over the swell of your breasts. "Don't you want to touch your perfect wife, Aemond?"
"Of course I do," he mutters. He moves aside only slightly, letting his fingers scrape over one of your hardened nipples. "I want to touch every part of you."
You arch into his touch, his fingertips hard and callused against your sensitive nipple. "Aemond.... Would I be a complete whore if I asked for your fingers back inside of me?"
"No," he mutters easily, a hand running its way down your body, the other holding himself above you. "No, you wouldn't. But I want you to ask for it, my love. I want you to tell me exactly what you want."
Your breathing quickening, the air in the room thick and heavy, you spread your legs around him, unabashed. "i want you to touch me. To touch my stomach, my hips and thighs .... my cunt. Please."
Aemond makes a ragged noise at your request, his body shuddering as you open yourself to him. He trails his hand lower, his fingers grazing over your stomach, trailing over your hips and thighs, before coming to rest between your legs.
He lets that hand rest on your for a moment, feeling your wetness, his violet eye dark and full of lust. "Is this what you wanted, darling?"
"Yes," comes your voice, wrecked, entire body feeling overheated and overwhelmed already. "Gods, Aemond, I.... I'm sorry I didn't ask for this earlier."
You run your hands up Aemond's toned arms, tugging on the short sleeves of his tunic. "M-May I take this off?"
Feeling you tug at his tunic, Aemond nods, loving that ragged and pleading tone in your voice. He can feel the heat radiating off your body, can see the raw, pleading look in your eyes, and he's never been more turned on in his life.
By way of a real answer, he reaches down and hooks his fingers under the hem of his shirt to rip it off over his head. He shakes his hair out majestically, making you giggle.
But after that giggle.... You can do nothing but lay beneath him and stare. His body is perfect, abs cut into his skin above the smooth, narrow line of his hips.
"Goodness ...." You whisper, fingertips prodding at his hardened stomach. "You're.... actually perfect."
"Perfect, really?" He replies, clearly perplexed. "I'd say I'm looking at perfection right now."
You whimper, Aemond's moist lips once more at your neck, his body pressed to yours. "How do you.... get your body to look that way? Maybe you can teach me that too, as well as how to ride a dragon."
Aemond laughs softly, his teeth scraping against you as he kisses down your neck. "It's actually quite simple," he murmurs, his hands roaming over your body, arms caging you in against the bed. "Just a lot of sword practice and fighting."
He pauses, his lips trailing teasingly over the line of your jaw. "I'm going to teach you to ride more than just a dragon, my love."
"I could sword fight." Your voice doesn't sound like it ever has before. "Easy. Train me."
You gasp at his words, nails now digging into his back. "And what else are you going to teach me to ride, husband?"
Aemond lets out a low chuckle at your response, his muscles coiling where your nails dig into his skin. He rolls his hips against you and makes you gasp.
"I can teach you how to ride me," he mutters, his voice a rough, ragged whisper. "Or maybe you'd like a ride on my face."
Your eyes go wide, and you press him away by the shoulder just so you can look him in the eye. "I.... I'm allowed to do that?"
You've never heard of this - using your mouth? Why have you never thought of it before?
"Of course you are," he murmurs, looking bemusedly down on you. "And I would be more than happy to let you."
His hot breath whispers over your skin as he leans to speak into your ear. "You've never heard of it before, have you?"
"I haven't." You tilt your head, fingers tender along Aemond's jaw. "How should I.... How do I do it?"
Aemond's eye closes at the feeling of your fingers, tender on his jaw, your touch ever gentle and caressing. He makes a very small noise and shudders over top of you. "It's easy, darling."
"I just lean back here...." With one swift movement, Aemond rolls and settles himself against the pillows. "You come up here...."
Gentle but insistent hands guide you, pulling you all the way up. "And swing a leg over me."
Still helped along by his strong hands, you throw one knee on the opposite side of Aemond's head, bracketing his ears with your thighs. "Like.... this?"
This position makes you feel as nervous as you have all night, even with the aid of the wine - Aemond can see all of you. Truly all of you, and you can't quite meet his eye because of it.
Aemond's hands tighten on your thighs, his breathing growing ragged. He can sense your nervousness, the way your muscles are tensing up, the way you're avoiding his eye.
He rubs his hands soothingly across your thighs, trying to relax you. "That's it, darling." His voice is soft, comforting. "You look gorgeous."
You bite your lip, carding one hand through Aemond's alluring silver hair. The other you place over his good eye, the hint of a smile on your face as you mutter, "Don't look...."
Aemond smirks, and yanks you suddenly, roughly forward by the backs of your thighs, so that your womanhood is directly above his smirking lips. "As you wish."
He places a single, open-mouthed kiss to your clit and the suction, the wetness, of it all is enough to make you squeal.
There's one poignant moment where Aemond's intensely hot, wet mouth rests over your womanhood. Then, with a jagged moan, he begins to lave over you, lips, tongue, and teeth working in tandem.
His callused palms cradle the backs of your thighs, keeping you in place as his tongue works you over. And when that same tongue points itself deep inside of your core, you can no longer keep your hand over his eye, lest you want to smash your husband's head painfully into the sheets.
Instead, that hand flies to the headboard, holding on for dear life. "Gods, Aemond! I.... I've never felt anything like this, what.... what in the seven hells...."
Aemond redoubles his grip on your thighs, keeping you in place as he works you with his tongue, his mouth and teeth and lips bringing you to new heights of pleasure. He moans roughly, and the sound reverberates through you, making your mouth fall open.
"Just... relax, my love," he mutters against your folds, "I did say I would worship you, did I not?"
You nod, still petting a hand gently through Aemond's hair, coiling your fingers around the strands, feeling how soft it is. Your eyes, however, are trained on the gilded ceiling when you answer.
"Y-You did, but.... this.... I didn't even know this was a thing people did. Is this.... common?"
"No, sweet one," he mutters, his voice thick with desire and - somewhere - a hint of disdain, "it isn't common. Most men see their wives as something to be claimed, conquered. And I...."
"You see them as something to be worshipped," you answer, remembering his words from earlier.
Aemond lets out a low chuckle against you as you knot your fingers in his hair, his tongue continuing to lathe across you. He lifts his head for a moment, his lips and chin glistening, a smirk on his face. "Look at me."
You do, and are rewarded with his fingers climbing the insides of your thighs, splaying themselves over you. "You are the most exquisite creature I've ever laid eyes on."
The sight of his face, so slick with you, his eye dark, his sapphire glinting, his fingers roaming over your thighs, it all makes you shiver, your breathing coming in short, ragged gasps.
"And you," he continues, voice muffled against your folds, "you taste divine."
And without another word, he dives back in, his tongue delving into you once more, his hands gripping your thighs, bringing you lower, closer to him.
All of this - Aemond telling you how beautiful you are, his talented mouth on you, the haze of the wine moving through you - has you tumbling toward the edge quicker than you've ever done so by yourself.
"Aemond.... close!" You give a hard tug to Aemond's hair, warning him.
He closes his eyes as he focuses on nothing more than bringing you further to the edge, the heat of your body and the taste of you driving him wild, pushing him to give you more, more, more.
"Just.... let go," he mutters against you. "I want you to let go for me, my sweet."
You're trembling now, hips riding down against his face of their own accord. "Oh, gods...." You've never done this in front of anyone before. What will Aemond think of the way you climax? Will it be embarrassing? "Aemond...."
There's no longer any time to think it over, though, as one last swipe of his tongue sends you spiraling with a loud cry.
Aemond's heart is pounding hard, watching you cum, his eye wide and alight with desire as he watches your body shudder and shake above him, your cry of pleasure filling the room and, undoubtedly, the hallways around it.
He helps you ride out the wave of pleasure, his tongue slowly bringing you back down, peppering your thighs and hip bones with hot, open-mouthed kisses.
Your eyes fluttering, your chest heaving, Aemond coaxes you through your first climax with him and then maneuvers you down to lay beside him. You feel so boneless, you sure you aren't much help in this endeavor.
"That was...." You don't even have the words to describe what just happened to you.
Aemond watches you closely as you lay beside him, breasts rising and falling heavily, your skin flushed and marked all over with his mouth, one hand trailing lightly over your stomach. The sight of you, well-loved and satisfied, makes his chest burn with desire.
He leans in close to you, curling his body around yours like a protective shield. His mouth trailing over your neck, his voice a quiet whisper. "That was beautiful. And we're only getting started."
You gaze at him out of half-lidded eyes, your body already feeling drained from just one round. "What...." You stifle a yawn behind your hand, trying to hide it. "What's next?"
Aemond laughs at the sight of you yawning, both hands now brushing over your body, his touch gentle. He can see the exhaustion in your eyes, hear the tiredness in your voice.
He leans down and presses a loving kiss to your forehead. "I don't think you're quite ready for more yet, my love. You look like you're barely awake."
Through your tiredness, you whine, "But you promised to show me. What it's like...." You're pressing sleepy kisses to Aemond's jaw, lips sweeping down over his neck.
Aemond's lashes flutter at your tiny kisses, his arms curling strong and protective around you. He makes an odd noise, and you realize you may have had an orgasm, but he never did.
"I can take care of it for you." Searching down below, hands clumsy and heavy with sleep, you feel Aemond grab for your wrist.
"And you will," he mutters, admonishing. "But tonight it's getting late, and you're tired. We have our whole lives together, we need not rush this."
Another yawn overtakes you, and you snuggle down into his warmth. "Tomorrow, then?" You mumble, arms slung lazily around him. "And dragon riding tomorrow, too...."
Aemond chuckles again at your insistence, hands gently rubbing themselves over your body, comforting you. He shifts back on the bed, pulling you into his chest and wrapping his arms around you, holding you as close as possible.
"Of course, my love," he murmurs, his voice a gentle, soothing rumble in your ear. "Tomorrow. And dragon riding, too. But for now, you need to sleep."
Aemond runs the very tips of his fingers up and down your back, just along your spine.
"I really am sorry, Aemond...." You're already half asleep, struggling to stay awake, to get the words out. "D'you really forgive me?"
Aemond sighs.
"Of course I forgive you," he whispers, breath tickling your ear. "It's all in the past now, my love. The only thing that matters is you and me, right here, right now. And dragon riding tomorrow, I promise...."
#aemond targaryen x y/n#aemond targaryen x you#aemond targaryen x reader#aemond targaryen#hotd#house of the dragon#house of the dragon smut#ewan mitchell x reader#ewan mitchell#smut#aegonstradwife#my writing#request fill#i posted this earlier today and it got flagged bc i included a naughty pic#it wasn't even that naughty but o well#hope you enjoy!
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