#aemomd x you

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

Form of Affection

22/12: Swimming & Face Fucking - Aemond Targaryen Word Count: 1.9k~ | Warnings: face fucking (obvi), dark!ish Aemond, kinslaying (mood), dirty talk, praise, degradation, threatening/obsessive behaviour A/N: This takes place in the Form of Gratitude universe!

12 Days of Smuff Masterlist

He'd given up hunting, but it still didn't stop him from visiting her.

She no longer raised her bow and arrow when she heard footsteps on her cobbled path. Similarly, Aemond had abandoned transport by way of the horse, instead alerting her to his arrival by the dense flapping of Vhagar’s wings.

Now, when she hears it, she waits outside her front door, arms crossed, smirking that he'd come to see her so soon after their last little tryst.

When he wasn’t buried between her thighs, sometimes Aemond craved her company in other ways. By way of hunting with her (hunting her sometimes), exploring the Kingswood until the sun touched the hills and more often, shedding their clothes and going for a swim in the nearby freshwater lake, made warm by the pleasant weather.

Usually, they swim, cleanse, kiss, and he wraps his strong arm around her and sheathes himself inside her, having his fill and only stopping once he was sated. 

She was good to him. Submitted to his desires when he wanted. Comforted him when he needed. And did not question.

Today was different. 

Today there was a weight on his shoulders like no other.

He’d woken a different person. A kinslayer.

Aemond sighs as he feels her breasts at his back, her slender arms wrapping around him to drift her soft fingertips across his scarred chest. But he does not lift his gaze. The moon shone down on them, reflected off the sapphire of his missing eye now that his eyepatch was discarded with his clothes.

“You are more melancholic than usual”, she muses, her nose gliding up the skin of his neck.

He scoffed, “And I am usually melancholic? Such emotions are beneath that of a Prince”.

He felt her body tense at his back, and he didn't need to look to know he'd offended her, but did not possess the courage to apologise.

“You are cruel when you're like this. It is how I know”, she adds with a soft sigh, making him feel worse, “there is something you are not telling me”.

Even the memory haunts him. He can still hear it, the way Vhagar’s jaw ripped through skin and bone like a knife through paper. 

Nevermind having to admit out loud, the horrific act he'd committed. The one that had his mother flinching from his sights.

“I am a kinslayer”, he states simply, “My nephew, Luke.”

She is quiet. 

And the silence spreads like a virus.

He expects her to drift away from him, taking her warmth with her, too shocked to really say anything, and leave, never to be seen again. Never to know her sweet loving embrace.

But she stays, and if anything, tightens her hold around him, her warm breath on his jaw, batting against the water droplet that sinks across his skin.

“And how do you feel?”

He's perplexed at just how calm she is. Whether it's a front or not, she's awfully good at it.

“I feel…unclean”, he answers, voice wavering, “like any person who looks upon me sees nothing but a mere monster”.

“I do not see a monster”.

“That does not matter”.

Again, she knows better than to not take it to heart. She can't disagree, her good opinion of him does not matter.

“He is the one who took your eye”, she muses, turning her face into the crook of his neck, the sloshing of water following her movements, “is he not?”

Aemond's tongue suddenly feels heavy, “Yes.”

“While your other family simply watched, and did nothing to assist?”

He swallows, a mild annoyance simmering, “Yes.”

He heard her breath before she spoke, the nerves making her shaky, “forgive me. I do not see why you should feel remorseful.”

“Because it has started a war.”

“A war that, forgive me, would have occurred regardless. I understand you may feel guilt. In my view it is no use looking back on the past. You can only protect your family now.”

Aemond could only scoff incredulously, “With Aegon as king I have a better chance of my eye growing back.”

“Well then why not you?” she asks, her volume lowering.

He barely turns his head to her, “what?”

The coldness of the early evening nips at his shoulders as she pulls away, the water around her trickling as she moves dreamily to look at him fully. Aemond feels himself half blink as he watches her expression, and the feeling of her fingers against his cheek.

Her beautiful full lips are parted, eyes studying the body she can see that is not submerged.

Her gaze flits back up to him, as her fingers disappear beneath the water, one soft digit trailing down his chest.

“It is you who should be king”

Silence.

The weight of what she'd said, what she'd suggested.

It was treason, and both knew it.

Aemond swallowed, chest feeling tight as a bowstring.

She is not at all perturbed by what she's said, not thinking about the consequences of them. Instead she ponders on.

“I am a commoner, my Prince. I know what he does. Where his interests lie”, she utters, an urgency to her tone. Aemond's stomach muscles tense as her hand passes over it, stepping past the fine hairs at his navel.

“It is you who was born to rule Westeros…”, she whispers, her front pressed near to his, breasts and nipples perk from the chill.

He stares idly at the droplet making its way between her breasts as her hand wraps around his cock, seeing her smirk at the realisation that her words have made him impossibly hard.

“...and you will”.

His jaw tightens, the muscle twitching with barely-contained emotion that was difficult to pin down.

Anger. Lust. Irritation. Desire.

They were all batting around in his head, trying to find where to fit.

He grabs her face, tugging her towards him so harshly she let out a little squeak, her grip on him never faltering, “Treasonous little cunt, aren't you?”

He doesn't know what he expected. For her to be scared perhaps.

But maybe there was a darkness in her that was discovered in him just days before. Lurking. Because she smirked. Giving his length a few calculated pumps.

“I told you before, where my loyalties lie.”

Her voice was like honey. Catching him in its trap. And her movements only intensified it.

“And what if I wed Floris Baratheon? Hm? Where will your loyalties lie then?”

She laughs breathily, “Then you wed Floris Baratheon. But, on your wedding night, I dare say, it is me you will be thinking of as you bury yourself inside that plain-faced idiot, searching for fulfillment you will never have. Not like you do with me.”

“You sound so sure”, he muses threateningly.

“Prove me wrong then.”

He sighs and tips his head back, feeling achingly hard. Her movements are too slow to grant him any kind of meaningful pleasure, but the touch all the same ignites a flame within.

“I can think of a better use for your cunt mouth”

The hand moves from her face to her hair, and he revels in the whine she lets out when he drags her from the depths to the shallow bank of the edge of the great lake. In the moonlight, shrouded in blue, their bodies look ethereal with the light bouncing off their damp skin.

He'd fucking hate that smug little smile on her face as he drags her to her knees in front of him, if he didn't fucking love it so much.

“Open.”

She bit her lip, holding back her smile at how wound tight she'd managed to make him and only wished to take it further by outright denying him, cock hard and weeping before her.

A choked moan left her as warmth bloomed on her cheek hard, Aemond's hand followed and grabbed her jaw meanly, pulling her face up to meet his gaze. His fingers curled into the flesh of her face, parting her lips, all while his other hand held his length by the base littered with silver curls, and pressed the tip to her lips.

Her eyes glimmered with excitement, feeling a throb between her thighs as he slid into her mouth slowly, his cock hot and heavy on her tongue. There was a dull ache on her cheek where he'd struck her, but it was exciting all the same.

Aemond moaned loudly when he felt her gag on him, her throat trying to close around his length and tears collecting around the rim of her beautiful eyes.

“That's it…”, he cooed quietly, pressing all the way into her warm, wet mouth until his hips were pressed to her.

“-you think I should be king, hm? - a king needs his cock warmed -”

He could tell she was trying to say something around his length but couldn't, and he wanted to laugh at her attempt as he thrusted so deeply into her mouth, her throat moved along with it, prodding the back of her throat mercilessly.

The little slut was writhing there, taking his cock into her mouth like a cunt would, pressing her thighs together to alleviate how badly she wanted to be fucked.

“- what's that? - I can't hear you -”, he smirked at her. Her eyes now shut with streams of moisture forming lines down her face.

“-that’s it-” he whispers softly, “-much better with my cock in your mouth-”

Once he begins fucking in earnest, he feels her warm hands on his thighs for balance. His fingers tug at her moist hair for leverage, tugging her back on his length.

His stomach muscles tighten as her cheeks hollow, increasing the friction on him. Every nerve feels alight the more he bottoms out inside her mouth.

“-fuck- it's such a waste, I've been dreaming of that perfect cunt all day -” he breathes heavily, “-be a good girl and take it-”

She makes a sound skin to a whine when she tastes his seed, shooting hot ropes onto her tongue and back of her throat, coating her mouth with it as he continues his ceaseless pace, prolonging his pleasure.

Aemond moans loudly, the sound lost in the dense forest, granting himself a few more shallow thrusts before he stills, emptying himself on her tongue and watching as a line of spend dribbles down the side of her mouth and onto her breasts.

He sighs in contentment. She is being good and hasn't moved an inch.

With a wet smack, he pulls his softening cock from her mouth, smirking at the way he coats her lips as they glisten in the moonlight.

She opens her bleary eyes finally to him, and doesn't even need to be told. She swallows, a sigh following after to prove she has swallowed all of it.

He hums. A thumb reaching for her chin to push the seed that had leaked out back into her mouth. She sucks on the digit hungrily, and he nearly moans out at the feeling of her wet tongue.

He pulls it out and cups her face lovingly, her eyelashes fluttering as she leans into his touch.

“Come back to the Keep with me”, he demands simply, like it is the easiest thing in the world.

“What?” 

“If I'm going to have to wed, bed and breed Floris fucking Baratheon, I'll need you close to me.”

With the heady taste of him on her tongue still, she swallows and considers for a moment. 

“I will not allow the sweetest cunt in the realm to sleep on the outskirts of the fucking Kingswood. You will be mine.”

His words are sweet. 

It would promise safety from vagabonds, rapists and hunters, for certain. And she had to admit, she did miss him whenever he departed on Vhagar, summoned back to the Keep.

So, she smiles at him, leaning forward to press her temple against his body.

“Yes, my King.”

General Taglist: @aemondsfavouritebastard @bellstwd @blairfox04 @buckybarnesb-tch @castellomargot @hb8301 @jamespotterismydaddy @mochi-rose @natty2017 @nenelysian @randomdragonfires @risefallrise @thelittleswanao3 @theoneeyedprince @thetrueblackheart @tsujifreya @urmomsgirlfriend1 @valeskafics @virtualsweetsqueen @watercolorskyy @fan-goddess

[crownedtargaryen]

exam comfort. - modern!aemond

pairing: modern!aemond x overwhelmed!reader (a/n): this is mostly a gift for my wife @hopelesswritergall. please take care of yourself, exams can be stressful. genre: fluff, comfort prns: they/them all notes are appreciated. tag list: @hopelesswritergall @twizzy123

Aemond and I have been dipping our toes into romantics. Love was not something he said was his "forte." He had taken an interest in me as I started tutoring. Cold and pensive at the start, but slowly laughing at my corny jokes and playful statements.

We haven't talked in a while. I've withdrawn from those who could assist because I feel a need to get this right. Every second counts. I have to ace my exams and graduate from my classes without bumps on the road. A relationship and friends became distractions, and my brain wasn't happy with the amount of work I'd done. I needed to accomplish more, I needed to feel like I did something valuable with all this time.

I sat at my desk silently, my eyes scanning the material provided for me. My stress was rising, and I hadn't slept soundly in days. My brain, body, and emotions became overstimulated and I felt agitated about the small things. I knew I needed to take a break, but I was determined to stay focused on my task. I took a few deep breaths and tried to recenter myself. I reminded myself that I could do this. I could get through all of this work and return to everyday life with confidence.

Though, my thoughts were quickly interrupted by a knock at the door. Looking up from my paper, I was unsure of who would be able to visit me. No one had visited me since exams, no one had time to. I didn't have time to see anyone either, so it worked out in the end. I slowly approached the door, my mind racing with the possibilities of who it could be. I opened the door and found my boyfriend, who had come to surprise me with a visit. My eyes widen, and guilt pangs in my heart. I ignored him. His countless calls, texts, and affections… I ignored it all for my grade.

"Aemond! What're you doing here?" I asked softly, my eyebrows raised. He looked at me, surprised I answered.

"(Y/N)," He says my name softly, my heart aching at his voice. Oh, how I missed it. I couldn't help myself, hugging him tightly. I feel his body stiffen for a second before he hugs me close. Immediate relief washes over me. He lets himself in, walking in as he picks me up, looking at my mess of a desk, realizing what's been happening. "Are you alright?" His voice is hushed and gentle, something I'm not used to from him. I nod slowly, but I hesitate. He notices. "Let's get this place cleaned up, okay darling?" He moves my hair from my face and I feel myself melt into his palm. He runs a bath for me, setting me on the toilet as he puts bubbles into the water. I smile at his thought. "Get yourself undressed for me, okay? I'll be back." He kisses my forehead, my heart fluttering as I nod. He heads off into my home, and I can only assume he's cleaning up a bit. I strip off my clothing, and lay it in the hamper next to the bathtub, running my fingertips over the water to test the temperature.

Moments later I hear the door click. I look at him and smile gingerly as he watches my face. His violet eyes gaze softly at me, placing me carefully into the bathtub. I look at him curiously as he grabs a cup and fills it with water. "I'm going to wash your hair, is that alright?" He says, wishing for my consent before doing so. I hum and softly tell him it's alright. He places his hand over my forehead to block my face from the water and dumps it on my head, soaking my hair. I shiver from the temperature change, hearing him whisper a soft "I know, darling. I know." I feel the soap now being massaged into my hair with his gentle hands, attempting not to be rough. He treats me like an ancient artifact, worth more than the world itself. As if I'm composed of glass and one wrong movement will shatter me. It makes me feel loved and seen. I can't help but smile as he runs his hands through my hair and removes the soap from my locks. He lets me wash my own body, not wanting to make me uncomfortable as he stands up. "I'll go order you some food, alright? Stay here and finish up. I'll bring some clothes in soon." He moves down, kisses my head, and then steps out of the bathroom and lets me tend to myself.

I step out of the bath just as he walks in. Aemond's shirt has now been taken off as he watches me dry myself with a smile. "You're beautiful," he compliments, making my cheeks turn pink. I watch as he pats the toilet seat, allowing me to sit down. He unwraps my towel and tells me to lift my arms, slipping his shirt over my head and onto my torso. He dresses my lower half comfortably and then scoops me up, nuzzling his nose with mine and kissing my lips. He walks toward the living room where the intro to my comfort movie is playing, a rush of joy and excitement washing over me. He sits down, placing me in his lap and running his hand along my back. He wraps us in a blanket and nuzzles into my neck.

"I love you," he murmurs, squeezing me gently. "Don't ignore me again, I can't imagine my days without you." He whispers, looking up and watching the movie. Suddenly, the film stops, and he turns around to look into my eyes. I raise my brow, tilting my head with curiosity.

"Promise me. You've overwhelmed yourself. I don't want it to happen again. Promise me you'll come to me, trust me to help you." He holds my face gently as he speaks, and I softly agree.

"I promise," I whisper. A small smirk comes to his lips. I feel him moving in and kissing my lips passionately, but he doesn't push it beyond a showing of affection. He moves back and nuzzles his nose with mine.

"I love you so much… You’re mine. My sweetest (Y/N), specially hand crafted by the gods and goddesses themselves. Shaped to pure perfection." He holds my face once more, gorgeous eyes full of pure love. “I’ve been blessed. I would trade you for nothing, for nothing in this horrid world could take you from me. Nothing will ever compare to you. My darling.”

[leedamandy]

Aemond Targaryen x fem!OC (blonde strong) / Aegon II Targaryen x fem!OC (blonde strong)

°• Hēnkirī •°

(Together)

Part 2

                                         •*•

A soft gurgling sound jolted Mhaenyra from her fitful sleep. It sounded like a dragon. She listened into the darkness, unsure if she had imagined it while half asleep.

Dragons had always been particularly fascinating to her. Mhaenyra had been denied the wings of a dragon by the gods for 16 years now. Of course, she had been given an egg. This one never hatched. She lived with it and it hardly bothered her. At least that's what she told herself.

Again a plaintive cry in the firmament! The young girl stood up briskly and made up her mind to accept the prince's invitation. She wanted to ride on Vhagar.

With a queasy feeling, she braved through her chambers and dressed. A dark, almost black dress with silver embellishments at the waist. Over it a cloak, held together by heavy chains at the chest that looked like dragon necks. She braided her long hair into a loose side braid and stepped confidently out the door. Ser Oats, her guard, seemed to awaken from his trance and looked at Mhaenyra, visibly shocked. "Princess, please return to your chambers. It is very late at night and-" "Thank you Ser Oats. I admire your loyalty and protection. I will go for a walk, my mother need not know of this. No harm will come to me." The knight's gaze grew uncertain, not wanting to let her go alone. "I will come with you, princess." "That will not be necessary, Ser Oats. Thank you. I wish to be alone. I will be back soon. You will stay here until then." "As you wish, Princess." His words were followed by a curt nod on his part.

Mhaenyra strode through the keep, enjoying the quiet of the night. She turned left, then right. Then left again.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, something heavy laid over her shoulder from behind and squeezed her mouth and nose shut. Adrenaline shot through the young woman's petite body and panic crept up inside her. She was pressed against something warm and hard behind her, feeling trapped. Her heart hammered in her chest and she grew incredibly hot. Why hadn't she listened to Ser Oats?

"Be still!"

They were whispered words, close to her ear that should have eased her panic. Prince Aemon's voice, she could recognize it. However, this fact simply did little to alleviate her excitement. With one of his strong arms, he spun the young woman around without loosening his grip, making sure through intense eye contact that she would not scream. The prince removed his hand from Mhaenyra's face, who immediately gasped audibly. She snatched herself from his grasp, breathing heavily, and bent forward. Then she looked at the clearly amused, grinning Aemond with her evil eyes. "Don't look at me like that Princess, I had to make sure we weren't exposed."  His grin widened, the longer Mhaenyra took to collect herself. "I might have been scared but I wouldn't have screamed. Don't do something like that again! Never again!" Admonishingly, annoyed, she held her index finger in Prince Aemond's face. "Of course, forgive me, dearest niece." His smile did not disappear, and Mhaenyra noticed that it did not reach his eye. "You looked incredibly beautiful. With my hand on your sweet face and your big eyes full of fear." The Velaryion instantly averted her gaze. A shiver ran down her spine. She suddenly felt uncomfortable. "Come. I'll show you Vhagar." His hand, which had been blocking Mhaenyra's airway earlier, now grabbed hers and pulled her along briskly. Aemond walked with long strides along several paths. Some secret and narrow, some led through gates and across streets. The young woman let it happen, not wondering how he could use these paths and shortcuts without being seen. She thought of her options in case of emergency. Would he kill her? Himself or would it be done by his dragon? Did he even want to kill her? Could she stop him? Maybe poke out the other eye? She cursed herself for not taking her small knife with her. The one Ser Harwin Strong had given her. Her mind was foggy with the questions that were bouncing around in her head. After what felt like an eternity, they arrived at a large green area. They stood side by side and looked out over the meadow. Vaghar had settled down on it. Every time she saw it, this dragon impressed Mhaenyra, just by its size. When Vaghar shook her head, swinging it back and forth in the air, it triggered a breeze that resembled strong wind.

The young princess watched the colossal dragon with shining eyes. A strange giggle from Aemond snapped Mhaenyra back to reality. She only now realized that their hands were still intertwined. As she tried to untie her hand, Aemond ran off again, pulling her along with him.

"Care for a ride?" Closer and closer they came to the huge creature, which sniffed skeptically at first, but then lay down quietly. "Vaghar seems tired, we could go at another time-" "Nonsense. Vaghar will love it when you ride her." His words sounded kind, his look on the other hand was.... Final. She had no choice, for she did not want to find out what this man was capable of. "Alright, my prince... How will two of us ride her?" And again, a creepy, too-wide grin graced his full lips. "Come."

The Targaryen helped her onto Vaghar's broad back. "Slide forward as far as you can and hold onto this..." He pointed to the fastenings of the saddle. "...Hold on tight." "And if Vaghar flies too steeply?" She asked anxiously. Aemon's soft laugh echoed through the air. "That's what I'm here for, Princess."

He sounded amused as he sat close behind her, grabbed her hips, and roughly pulled her closer to the lower half of his body. He ignored her surprised gasp and his arms and hands then settled over hers. He squeezed her legs with his. His sudden closeness and smell, made Mhaenyra nervous. Her breath quickened and she didn't know what was worse, the behemoth beneath her that was about to sweep her mercilessly into the air, or the figure behind her that held her in a very personal position that would leave her no way out of it. All of this gave her a tingling sensation. A forbidden feeling. "Gaomagon ao feel ȳgha sir, dārilaros?" (Do you feel safe now, princess?) He whispered the last words lustfully in her ear. Breathing more heavily, Mhaenyra only nodded. The whole situation overwhelmed her. She couldn't see his grin as he lifted his head, made sure his fragile niece was safely in front of him and could hold on, and prepared for his next command.

"Vla!"

                                         •*•

Part 3 (Smut)

Part 1

Thank y'all for reading, liking and reblogging:')

lets all wait for the new episode*-*

-LeeDaMandy-

[gxthicwxrm]

Hi! Saw you were looking for hotd requests.

How about arranged marriage au with Daemon x fem!reader. They have 1 or more kids but Daemon doesn't seem to like her. After an attack on her and the kids (she's a trained assassin/warrior), he realizes how much she does for them. Maybe she goes unconscious for a few days and Daemon has to look after the kids.

Ignore this if you don't want to do it! But thanks and have a good day!

Hello! I am so sorry for the late reply!! I did a few changes, I hope you don't mind. I plan to use this prompt for Aemomd and Aegon as well. However I hope you enjoy!!

Fire Like A Targaryen

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x Wife!reader

Warning: blood, assault, mentions of rape and murder, angst

Word Count: 1,907

Masterlist - Part Two

---

You drums you fingers against your swollen belly, feeling little feet meeting the flesh beneath your hands. "Hello, my little love." You hum to the unborn baby that dances in your stomach while the baby's father disappears somewhere, surely his doting niece following closely behind. 

You have been married to Daemon long enough to know the feelings he has for his niece, even if he doesn't realize himself. His neglect of husbandry duties always increased as we spent time in King's Landing, nearing the Princess of Dragonstone. However, you didn't blame your husband's inability to love you, on the Princess or even her lover. Sometimes people just don't love each other.

Giving up long ago for his affection, you decided to make the best of your time with simple pleasures: reading in the garden, learning to cook with the maidens, painting with the richest of colors. Quickly, you adapted to the riches of the Targaryen's royalty which dulled the ache you felt for her husband. 

The night of the wedding, the pair never consummated the marriage, it left you feeling like a pawn in a game. He stumbled in drunk, tripping over his feet before dragging himself up the bed, practically crawling towards you. Unable to deny your growing love for this mess of a man, you reached your hand out and guided him towards yourself. 

Slowly, he looked up at you before clasping your cheeks in his hands, pressing his cold lips against your warm ones. Hungrily, his hands fly to your sides and pull you against his bare chest. Moaning into your kiss, both sets of hands begin exploring each other. For once, you felt at home, like this was how the two of you were supposed to be, together. However, your bliss died when his lips whispered one that was far from your own.

"Oh, Rhaenyra!" He mumbles into the flesh of your neck, leaving little bruises training down your chest as he moves towards your breast. His words crash around in your head as you lay beneath Daemon who finishes and falls asleep beside you, wordlessly.

Despite the pain of that night, you gained motherhood. Daemon was happy to be a father, scared but happy. He never told you, but you could tell when he'd ghost his hand over your bump or give you an extra piece of bread with dinner. He even held your hand during the birth of your daughter, Alysannne.  He may not love you, but he loves his child. Although, a small part of you wished this child would make him love you. You were naive to think Daemon would ever love you.

But, years have passed since your daughter was born. Alys is five, running around her father as he brushes Caraxes in the Dragonpit. 

"Mommy!" Her tiny voice echoes on the stone walls once she sees you walking towards herself and her father. Looking up, Daemon's eyes meet yours, offering a small smile before turning back to the huffing Caraxes. 

"Hello, my little one. What are you doing out here? Look at you, you are all dirty!" You pick at your daughter's ripped gown, covered in soot. 

"We were playing with Caraxes! Daddy said he'd let me fly with him!!" The little girl runs between her parents and the Blood Wyrm, kissing the dragon's cheek as she pets him. 

"Well, she is her father's daughter." Daemon chuckles, putting his hand on the small of your back as Alys dances around in front of you, twirling her ruined skirt. Affection from him was no longer rare but quick. His thumb caresses the exposed skin of your back, soothing the pain of carrying a child. His unused hand finds itself cupping your belly.

"How has he been treating you, today?" Daemon's smooth voice steals your attention from the girl before you. Looking down at his hands, you rest yours beside his but he moves, so his fingers are right over yours.

"He's been good. Hasn't been kicking me a ridiculous amount which is a new change of pace." Your attempt at a joke brings a smile to your husband's face who kneels down before you and kisses your clothed belly, much to your surprise.

"Be good for your mother. Cherish her, my little Dragon." He whispers, but you were still able to here his words. Standing back up, he cups your face.

"I'm going to take Alys flying before she makes Caraxes eat me. He listens to her more and more these days." With a peck on your cheek, he's running towards his daughter and his dragon. 

"Don't forget Alysanne needs to bathe before dinner with your brother. She may be a dragon but she will not smell like one." You call them, laughing at your own words. 

"Yes ma'am." Daemon smiles at you before telling Caraxes to fly,just streaks of red melding into the blue sky above. 

Waiting for your family, you sit in your chambers, rubbing oils on your stretched belly while the water for Alysanne is being gathered by your maids.

Grabbing a book from Daemon's bedside table, you absently flip through the pages; glimpses of words and stories fly by along with the pages.

A creak of the door alerts you, bring you to your feet as you cover your stomach with the slits of your gown.

"Mommy! We flew so high!" Alysanne pushed the door open enough to slide between the wood, running to her mother's side, a severant boy coming in behind her with two buckets of hot water. Alysanne leans into your side as you take in the dirt covering her face.

"Oh, my little girl, what did they do to you? Did they roast you?" You giggle, tickling at her sides. The servant moved slowly beside you as he filled the white tub.

"No, I roasted them, mwah ha ha." She laughs, stomping and pretending to breathe fire as she runs around you in circles.

"Okay my dragon rider. It's time to bathe. Come on." She taps her daughter's shoulders, moving her towards the steaming bath. Looking towards the lingering servant, Y/N felt bad dismissing him but was cautious why he was staying so long.

"Thank you, sir. Your kindness won't be forgotten." You turn towards your child and still feeling the man in your room, pull the curtain around the tub closed, canceling your still clothed daughter. She was eerie of this man in their room, unsure what to think of him.

Slowly, he straightens to look you in the eye, a cold shiver runs through your body as you see the glint of a dagger in his hand. 

"No! Guards! Daemon!" You shout as the man lunges, knife pointed towards your belly. The man kept coming at you, backing you in the furthest corner away from your daughter, who peeked from the curtain. Moving to run around him, his arm grabbed you by the stomach and shoved you down. Flying backward, your head hits the ground, a loud crack echoing through your mind as you look around for a weapon. The man is stalking you while you try to move toward the bed across you. You knew Daemon kept a dagger under the left-hand side of the mattress. If you could just get to it, you could save your children's lives.

The sound of glass breaking stops you and your attacker, both looking toward the direction of the crash. The tub. 

A fear like no other took over you as the man started towards your daughter's hiding spot. Reaching for his legs, you try to pull him down, screaming but to no avail as he kicks you. One landing in your swollen belly, making black dots cloud your vision. Wetness trickles down the side of your face, but you keep dragging yourself behind this man, desperate to stop him from hurting your child. 

Using the table nearest, you pull yourself up and grab Daemon's letter opener. This man would not leave this room alive; you'd make sure of it even if you died trying. The man throws open the curtain but pauses. Creeping behind him, you see Alysanne isn't behind the curtain anymore. 

"Where is she?" The man asked himself. He turns, locking eyes with you before grabbing you by your hair and pulling you to your knees. "I said," Where is she? You dumb bitch!" He goes to smack you but stops as you shove the letter opener into his hand. Letting you go, you drop back down before dragging yourself to your feet.

"You fucking cunt! I was going to let it be quick, but now you will watch me rape your little girl and slit her throat before I do the same to you." He spits, pulling the blade from his hand and coming at you. His words once would've made you cower and hide, but now light you up like a flame. A fire burned in you to keep going and fighting despite the pain radiating over your body.

"You won't lay a finger on her. Over my dead body." You knew this would be a fight you'd lose. You have no weapons, training, or husband to protect you. It was up to you to protect these children, and you would do it even if it killed you. The Man grabs at you again, but you slap, scratch, and claw at his face this time. His hands find their way around your throat while yours dig into his eyes, a gut-wrenching scream comes from the man as he yanks away from you, but you don't stop. Lunging at him, you push his body against the tub, hitting his head before you wail on his chest, tears flowing down your face as the man beneath you go limp.

A scream of frustration leaves your throat raw as the adrenaline leaves your body. 

"Alysanne? It's okay to come out now, darling. It's okay." Your thoughts cleared. Where is your daughter? Stumbling off the man, you pull yourself up and turn, trying to find your daughter, when suddenly she slides from under the bed, rushing to your side. 

"M-mommy! I thought, I thought he was-" 

"Shh, it's okay now. Everything is going to be okay." You hold her to your chest, trying to soothe your nerves. The door swings open to your relief, and Daemon rushes in, sword drawn with the Gold Cloaks rushing in behind him.

"What happened? Are you okay? Alysanne? The baby?" Daemon's questions shoot at you, each before the words can find you. Staring up at him, blood smeared across your face, bruises forming, and tears filling your eyes. Daemon has never seen you like this and never plans to again.

"Mommy killed the bad guy. He tried to hurt us, but she saved us!" Your daughter summarizes to her father, who turns to his wife, shocked, before pulling her and her daughter into his arms, kissing each other on their foreheads. He always thought she lacked the fire a Targaryen has. But at every turn, she has proved him wrong. Not only did she give him a dragon and another coming, but she became one in the process.

[youraverageaemondsimp]

Better Than Revenge // Alys rivers x Fem!Reader, MODERN AU. [ONE SHOT]

Summary: Your boyfriend Aemond cheats on you with Alys rivers, so you do the same.

warnings: nsfw content ahead! MDNI: age gap, mommy kink, tiddy sucking, cunnilingus, fingering, angst(?), fluff, wlw, cheating, aemond is a cunt. + not proofread!!

Enraged is not enough to describe the feeling you felt when your friend sent you pictures of aemond with his assistance, who he told you not to worry about, alys rivers.

He said he was supposed to be at a meeting tonight, but he was in a bar, spending time with her, and the next picture your friend sent made you see red.

He was kissing her.

You quickly texted your friend back, thanking them and planned on what to do.

You had realised, that when Aemond introduced you to alys, he had not mentioned that you were his girlfriend, just that you were close, you should've heard the alarm bells ringing back then but you ignored them.

You barely knew alys, and she barely knew you, it made you mad that it was possible that Aemond was two timing with both you and her. And then a plan came to your head, you smirked to yourself.

You had decided to act as you knew nothing, getting alys' number from his phone when he left to shower, and texting her.

‘Hi! This is Aemomd's friend, Y/N! I realised we both know aemond but not each other, I would love to get close to you! :)’

And from then onwards, things started to change.

You both had met up on occasions, hanging out from time to time, all unknown to Aemond, Alys was an older woman, likely in her 30s, she had more experience at things and was gentle and soft spoken, it only confirmed your suspicion that she did not know you and aemond were in a relationship, likely he never told her, considering she isn't hostile towards you.

She was very intelligent too, but you were confused as to how Aemond was able to fool her, you had guessed so when you directly asked her if she was dating Aemond and to your surprise, she looked away with a sad smile on her face, “No, not really, this is more of a situationship, he said he is not ready to commit yet.”

And that's when any remaining doubts of her getting in between you and aemond purposefully flew out of the window, considering she wouldn't be saying all that if she knew.

You held her hand, comforting her, gently.

God Aemond was a fucking douchebag.

You froze up when Aemond asked you where you have been going to lately, considering you hardly have any time for him anymore.

“Oh, nothing, I am just hanging out more with a friend, sorry i made you feel lonely.” you cradled his face and pulled it your chest, embracing him, feeling disgusted with yourself for continuing to do this, but you had to, your plan is halfway finished now.

He hummed before his hands travelled to the end of your tank up and pulled it upward, revealing your breasts to him, his head came forward to take your nipple into his mouth, you felt like throwing up so you pushed his head away and he furrowed his eyebrows at that, “Sorry, I'm not in the mood today.” you try to convince him, pulling down your tank top and he nods.

He said he got an urgent call and left your house, you scoffed, knowing he went to alys to get his dick wet, you fumed at the thought, until a few minutes later you received a text from alys herself.

‘Can we meet up tomorrow?’ and you felt your heart race, you thought she had found out before you would tell her everything but you replied a yes and the next message made you sigh out of relief.

‘That's splendid, let's meet at the same cafe! ♡’

You smiled to yourself at the text.

Aemond returned barely an hour later, irritated for an odd reason, something must've happened, so you asked what happened and he simply ignored you, grumbled and fell next to you on the bed.

He didn't get his dick wet.

You went up and met alys and she immediately hugged you when she spotted you, and you sat down at your usual table, you noticed that she was more quieter than usual, and sadder.

“Aemond came over yesterday.” she said, you let out a unsurprised oh, she sighed heavily. “Listen, I know you are his friend but, he is a fucking prick. I wanted to talk to him about what to label our relationship but he simply ignored me and tried to get in my pants, so I fucking slapped him.” she said, anger flowing out of her words, you felt delighted.

“He deserves it.” you say and she looks at you, and takes your hand in hers, “Are-” she swallows, “Are you into woman?” she asks nervously and you nod, “I am yes, why?” and you swear you saw her face light up immediately before she concealed it.

“Nothing, just asking.” she soothes your hands, “I- I got this matching rings for us..” she showed you them and you felt your heart flutters when she shows you what she got, “It's beautiful!” you exclaim, feeling happy and but guilty when she gives you a smile.

And that's when you decided to come clean to her. About everything.

She was shocked at first, but then she was angry and you felt your heart break, knowing your friendship would come to an end, but to your surprise, she didn't end your friendship.

“I suspected that he was sleeping with you too, but I didn't realize he was actually dating you. I'm sorry.” she apologized and you shook your head “No no, it's fine, you didn't know— which is why I wanted to- talk to you but, I found myself enjoying your company more and more and I couldn't find the heart to tell you.” you said shyly.

It was true. Your original plan was to befriend her and tell her and then break up with Aemond, he would've surely gone to her for comfort and she would've also ended the situationship with him, hurting him twice.

She chuckles at your shyness, before giving you smile, “Thank you.” she says making you confused, “Thank you for being honest with me– you had every right to hate me but you decided to find the sides of the story first, and I'm sorry, I did not know he was a man like that.” she comes over and sits next to you, putting a hand on your shoulder.

Your eyes flicker to her lips and she looks at you for a moment before she leans in, you both kiss, it was a gentle one.

She pulls away and you blush, hiding your face in her shoulder, feeling embarrassed, luckily no one witnessed the kiss.

She had invited you to her home and you went gladly, you sat on the couch nervously, the tension between the both of you rising, she fetches you a class of water and you drink it, she plops down next to you on the couch.

You both had planned to watch a movie and she put on a mediocre TV show that was neither good nor bad, you felt her place her hand on your thigh, drawing circles on it, you tried not to let it bother you, but it travelled further near you core.

You involuntary clenched your thights shut when her hand grazed over your clothed cunt, you were wearing a short skirt. She turns her gaze over to you and you breathe heavily.

She pushes you back against the couch before getting on of top you, bending down to kiss you as her hands travelled up your shirt and pulled it upwards, groping your tits in both her hands, giving them a tight squeeze before playing with the nipple.

She broke away the kiss and trailed kises downwarda towards your breasts before she took one of your breasts in her mouth, you whined when you felt her teeth nip at your stiffened peak, you cradled her head against your tit, hands in her dark locks of hair as she stared at you with her emeralf green eyes.

She let goes of your breast with a pop before moving down, discarding you of all your clothes until you were completely bare, she did the same, ridding herself of her clothes before she went further down.

She placed wet kisses on your thighs before she dived in your dripping cunt, her tongue licking in long strides, sucking on your clit, your hands gripped her head, pushing her head to be as close as possible, you grinded your hips against her face.

She moaned against you, vibrations shot up your body, she dragged her tongue up and down before taking in your clit in her mouth once again as her hands parted your thighs even further.

You felt a building up tension in your core as she continued her ministations, your nipples hard from arousal, she pulled away before spitting on your cunt and devouring you again, it was filthy, but oh gods it was so good.

You moaned her name out loud when you felt the coil in your core snap, body trembling as the orgasm hit you in waves, she pulled away before switching positions.

She lined her cunt up against yours, your leg thrown over her shoulded before she rutted against your cunt, your clits rubbing against one another, you moaned from the overstimulation.

She fastened her pace, nearing her orgasm as well before she came too, moaning your name loudly, her head dipped down you take your nipple in her mouth, she suckled on it.

You got bold and switched positions, being on top of her, you trailed kisses down her pale and milky skin, to her breasts before you suckled on it, closing your eyes in content, your hand travelled to her dripping folds.

You rubbed her clit before dipping two long fingers into her awaiting cunt, she whined when you shoved your fingers inside of her, you slowly started thrusting them in and out, leaving her tits with a pop to look down as her cunt engulfs your fingers, you groan at sight.

“M-mommy look at you.” those words escaped your mouth before you can stop them, you felt embarassed but alys didn't say anything, she just smirk before caressing your face, “Does my babygirl enjoy when her mommy is pleased?” she asks and you nod eagerly. Hands speeding up, she throws her head back.

“F-fuck I'm so close baby- keep going like for mommy yeah?” she pants and you obey her, she let's out a lewd moan when she cums all over your hands, you pull your fingers out before looking at her, she looks at you through narrowed eyes and you put those fingers in your mouth sucking on her juices, she gives you a content smirk at that.

She presses her lips to you and you both end up in a late make out session, her hands rubbing up and down your sides, your naked bodies entangled, “Gods, you're so beautiful.” she murmers, making butterflies erupt in your stomach.

“what the fuck.” your head snaps to the voice and you're shocked, it was Aemond, who was looking at you both wide eyed, shocked at your state.

Alys forgot to lock the door.

You and Alys look at each other before staring at him intensely, alys helps you dress up and she dresses up too, Aemond waits there awkwardly.

“Uh- I'm sorry.” is the first thing he says, likely understanding that you both had figured out about his antics, alys sits there, arms crossed and she gives you a nod.

You go up to Aemond, he looks at you, expecting you to forgive him, but you punch him in the face. He's shocked and falls back, “We're over.” you spit venomously.

“So are we, if we were ever a thing.” Alys speaks up, before making her way over to you and pushes Aemond out before slamming the door in his face and locking it.

She turns to you and you both burst out laughing.

And soon enough, you and her began dating.

You both move out of your old places and move into a new apartment, blocking Aemond and changing your numbers so he stops pestering you guys, he still has your insta and he sends various dms to you through multiple accounts but you just block them, and soon enough, they stop.

Alys told you about her passion for witchcraft, how she casts protection spells, and how much firmly she believes in it, you listen to her talk about it with a smile on your face, and she does the same when you talk about the things you are passionate about.

[writingsofwesteros]

Aemond marrying a sweet innocent girl and after Aemomd dies, Jacaerys takes her as his wife. Making sure to breed her every night.

AN: Hi, I hope you like it x

NSFW

Gods, he was bigger than Aemond. You never thought that would be possible as you clutched at the sheets underneath you. “J…Jace…” You cried out; eyes rolling back as his fat cock pushed deep inside you. Your legs were shaking as you babbled absolute nonsense. The Prince had already ripped orgasms from you and each stroke was so sensitive.

He only grunted into your ear; burrowing into your neck as he whispered. “Hmm, you are mine now…going to give me babies?” Jace purred as his tongue brushed down your skin before he bit down. His hand roughly palmed at your arse as his thrusts only quickened as he leaned away from you.

He looked down with those dark eyes of his and watched the erotic sight of his fat cock moving in and out of you with speed. A ring of cream formed around him as your wetness had already soaked the sheets. “Good girl.” Jace purred, spreading your cheeks and soon you felt his spit fall onto you.

You flinched and your eyes flashed open as it dripped down. His hips continued to jerk; his fat head pushing against your spongy spot that he had found so easily. “Please..” You hardly knew what you were begging for..maybe for it to end? The pleasure was so intense and had you babbling.

His chuckle only echoed as his hands moved up your back; his body moving as his cock was pushed deeper. “Hmm, what do you want?” Jace wouldn’t help but tease. Your mouth watering scent washed over him as his smirk tugged on his lips. His uncle’s wife was under him and soon she would have his sons.

“Fuck…oh, gods…” He moaned at the mere thought. His thrusts quickened as you looked over your shoulder. Your face screwed up in pleasure as his movements were deep and hard. “Take it…take it all.” He babbled to himself  as his hold on you only tightened. Somehow, the Prince pushed deeper.

Your body moved up and down his cock with soft whimpers falling from your lips. Your cheeks were flushed as you babbled and moaned out his name so loudly. Your pussy with ease clamped around him. That was enough to push the Prince over the edge and he was soon cumming inside you.

You moaned and bit into the sheets; still shy, which had Jace humming happily. Your toes curled in pleasure as you began to squirt around him some more. “Yes…oh …oh gods…” You whimpered out. He tugged on your looks and soon his sweet, soft mouth captured yours lovingly. 

Jace still rocked. He could hear the obscene sounds as he brought you close. Your tongues began to play together as he sucked on them. His hand snaked around to begin to palm at your breast. “Jace…” You whimpered; your mind softening completely at the pleasure he was giving you.

You knew this was not the end. Jace would sometimes fuck you all night; he would sleep with his cock stuffed inside you. “Please..I can’t…” You whined breathlessly as his rocking resumed. His hand slowly moving to your raw, sensitive pussy and you began to shake already for him, much to the Prince’s amusement.

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Hi lovely! May I request Aemond X reader velayron who is Rhaenyra daughter. Her and Daemon had no idea about her relationship with Aemond til a bump appears and they demand to know who is the father? Please and thank you 🙏🏽

Hello! I've put my own spin on this - I hope you don't mind!

Smut, angst, fluff, incest, all the goodies below the gif and cut!

“Aemond” Daenaera breathed out his name in a moan, her fingers winding themselves into his hair as he lapped at her warm center.

He groaned against her cunt, the vibration causing her to gasp and shudder, bucking her hips further up into his face.

“Aemond”, she whimpered again feebly, “We are going to be late for dinner.”

The silver haired Targaryen prince paused his movements for a moment, his lilac eye regarding Daenaera mischievously as his chin glistened with her slick in the candlelight. “I know, and I am starving.” he taunted, before gripping her thighs and diving back in.

Daenaera giggled, collapsing backwards as Aemond continued to feast on her like she was his final meal.

She decided it was best to just lay back and enjoy it. Every moment with her beloved uncle was a moment stolen in secrecy. She pondered on whether Aemond would still be so eager to ravish her as she grew larger with their unborn child.

The only daughter from Rhaenyra Targaryen and Laenor Velaryon’s marriage, Daenaera was arguably the only legitimate child they had together too, if the rumours were to be believed. Where Daenera was pale of hair and eyes, her three brothers were much darker in their colourings. Suspected bastards of Ser Harwin Strong, not that she’d ever utter that aloud. Her stepfather, Daemon, would surely punish her for it if she did.

While her brothers Jace and Luke had bullied Aemond as children, Daenaera had bonded with him over their shared love of dragons and philosophy. The pair often conversed in High Valyrian, much to the annoyance of her brothers who could not understand the language, despite hours of lessons.

Daenaera’s greatest regret was that she wasn’t able to put a stop to Luke slashing at Aemomd’s face the night he claimed Vhagar. He lost his eye as a result and she did all she could to comfort him through the ordeal, their friendship blossoming into something neither of them could quite place a name on as a result.

The rising tensions between Rhaenyra and Alicent kept Rhaenyra and her children on Dragonstone, while Alicent and her family remained at the Red Keep in King’s Landing. Visits were non-existent, yet Daenaera and Aemond did not allow that to stop them from riding on dragonback to find each other as often as you could.

It was from one of these many secret meetings that they confessed their love for each other and shared their first kiss. Many more meetings and a few months later they married in secret and consummated their union. At their most recent rendezvous Daenaera revealed to Aemond that she was with child.

He’d dropped to his knees, placing his forehead on her belly before pressing a kiss to it. Looking up at her, adoration shone in his remaining eye, yet he noticed she did not share the sentiment.

“Skoros iksis pirta, ñuha jorrāelagon?” he asked, voiced laced with concern as he rose to cup her jaw in his hands. What is wrong, my love?

“ñuha muña kessa daor sagon biare”, she’d whispered, “Iksan zūgagon.” My mother will not be happy. I am scared.

“Kesan jurnegon tolī ao” he’d promised, before kissing her fiercely. I will look after you.

It was now another month later and they were still keeping their union a secret, although enjoying much more frequent time together due to Rhaenyra and Daemon’s visit to King’s Landing with their children.

“You go on ahead”, Aemond said as they both stood to straighten their clothing, “It will look suspicious if we arrive together.

She sighed. “How much longer must we keep this a secret? I am going to start showing soon!”

“We will figure it out, dōna mēre.” Sweet one.

Tensions were high as they sat around the dinner table. Luke’s snigger at the roasted pig being placed in front of Aemond sent him into a rage. He banged his fist on the table, toasting to his “strong” nephews.

The insinuation was lost on no one and Daenaera rose from the table, hoping to intercept Jace as he strode towards Aemond.

“Jace, no!” she shouted, stepping into his path.

“Out of my way, sister”, he muttered darkly, pushing her to the side.

The shove was harder than he had intended and it caught Daenaera off balance. She toppled towards the table, putting her hands out to stop the edge from impacting with her abdomen.

“Nādrēsy!” she heard Aemond snarl at Jace as he lunged for him. Bastard!

“My baby!” she shrieked without thinking.

The dining room went deathly silent. All eyes were upon her as she braced herself against the wooden surface, eyes wide with shock at what she’d just uttered.

“Your what?” Rhaenyra demanded, finally breaking the silence.

Daenaera stood, straightening up and smoothing the front of her gown before turning to face her mother.

“My baby”, she said, her voice small.

“Our baby”, Aemond corrected, coming to stand beside her, placing a protective arm around her waist.

The looks on the faces of everyone around the dining table differed in their levels of disapproval. Alicent appeared horrified, meanwhile Daemon and Rhaenyra wore expressions of pure fury. Helaena at least had the decency to appear happy for them and Aegon just seemed to find the entire situation incredibly amusing. Daenaera’s brothers and step sisters emanated disgust.

“You’ve put a bastard in my daughter?!” Rhaenyra seethed, gritting her teeth as she addressed Aemond.

“You are the only mother of bastards here,” he retorted coolly, “Daenaera and I are married.”

Alicent gasped, putting her head in her hands as the situation became too much for her.

Daemon made as if to move towards Aemond, his glare darkened, until Rhaenyra held a hand to his chest to stop him.

“Iksis bisa drēje, tala?” she asked, her voice laced with emotion. Is this true, daughter?

Fighting back tears of her own, Daenaera responded “Kessa, muña, nyke jorrāelagon zirȳla.” Yes, mother, I love him.

“Se nyke jorrāelagon zirȳla” Aemond intercepted. And I love her.

Daenaera jutted her chin out in defiance as her mother’s gaze fell in disappointment.

“I know this family is not without its troubles”, Daenaera spoke, feeling braver by the moment as Aemond gave her a reassuring squeeze, “And I am not asking you to be happy for us, but I want for you to accept this. Aemond is my husband. I am going to have his child. There is nothing you can do to change that.”

“Emā married aōha kepus”, Rhaenyra said sadly. You have married your uncle.

“Hae gōntan ao, muña, se iksā biare” Daenaera argued softly. As did you, mother, and you are happy.

Rhaenyra sighed. “Very well. There is still much to talk about and to arrange, but I will accept your decision.”

Daenaera smiled. Aemond pulled her close, placing a kiss to her temple. The first embrace they’d shared that wasn’t in secret.

“Lo ao ōdrikagon ñuha tala ossēninna ao” Rhaenyra warned. If you hurt my daughter I will kill you.

“Issa ȳgha lēda nyke” he said confidently. She is safe with me.

You smiled, cradling your small bump. You knew you would be. Always.

[sirphrogington3rd]

Info: Aemond x Martell wife, think after Aemomd killed Luke, Rheanyra takes revenge by killing You and Aemond's children

Warnings!!: gore, blood, child m6rder, angst, violence, child d3ath

Authors note: I'm currently writing a fic for them on my Wattpad, this just was a thought that came to me at the hellish hours of the night and I can't stop thinking abt it. I started sobbing while writing this so beware!

*Angst ahead*

Aemond had become ever more productive over you and the newly born twin babes your bore only months prior, he had not told you about the accident with Luke nor did he want anyone else to let you in of the brewing storm.

One night, Aemond fell asleep at his desk, and you lie in bed comfortably with your babes, their tiny sleeping forms bringing you comfort, Fluffy's beastly body curled at the foot of the bed. You heard something shift in the room, like someone climbing in through a window

you sat up, "Aemond?" you called to the shadows

only to quickly realize Aemond was still sleeping on his desk, exhausted. You looked back into the shadows as a glint of metal shown in the blackness, you take your babes into your arms, and look back as a man in a cloak steps closer to your bed

"Who are you?"

Your head whips around at the sound of struggle behind you, Aemond. knife to his throat, keeping him from helping you. Tears sting your eyes as the welled spills from your tear ducks. Now each babe screaming in fear.

"Please! I beg you do not hurt them!" you cried

"This is payment," the man says, "but you may choose, an option your husband did not grant Rhaenrya."

You look back at Aemond with confusion, "What?" your voice shallow, soft... scared

"choose which of your sons die."

You had the lives of your sons and your husband in the line, if you order your tiger to attack they'd kill Aemond and the babes. You shifted to sit on your knees

"I beg you, do not kill my children!"

"If you will not pick, I shall," the man spoke reaching for the babe with white hair

you yelp at the feeling of a babe being ripped from you. You plead, cried, begged, offered finery, your body, anything. Aemond said nothing but you could hear his weeps. You screamed as the assailant drove his knife into your baby. You took in a shaky breath, face contouring into a horrified, and painfilled expression. the crying of the child fading into silence as the men made their escapes.

You in shambles place your brown-haired babe beside Fluffy and crawl from your bed, tears flowing like a violent storm, drenching your night clothes as you fell to your knees where your bloodied child lay.

"My sweet boy," you whispered pulling the child into your arms, "My sweet summer child."

You rocked back and forth as you cradled the child, you wailed, sounds of pure anguish. You placed your forehead against the dead babe's, holding his tiny hand.

You wailed, a scream full of hate, and sadness, Aemond made his way to your side.

"This is all your fault..." you said

He just held you as he mumbled apologies. Fluffy took your live babe by the blanket it was swaddled in and jumped from the bed, placing the screaming child in front of you and Aemond, he scooped up the child as the feline rested its head on your leg but you were inconsolable.

[anjelicawrites]

For the prompt thing, "Take a bath with me." With aemomd in the poly and osferths away so it’s just him and reader :)

Paring: Aemond Targaryen x reader (set in the polycule 'verse) Warnings: fluff, kissing and handjob.

NSFW and 18+ only, please

Aemond emerges from his home office early in the afternoon, while you are still following an on-line training. Following is, perhaps, too big of a word, you've kept your webcam off and the audio to a minimum, in order to mark the handful of homework you have to give back to your students tomorrow. You are well aware of how naughty you are being, in truth this training is pointless, could have been an handful of Power Point slides for all that mattered and you don't have time to waste! On silent feet, Aemond walks to you and kisses your temple, mouthing how long this is going to take, to which you answer that's not going to be too awful long and he gives you the thumbs up, before serving himself with a cup of coffee.

Once you are done, you join him outside, where he is reading a thick tome by a philosopher you don't recognize; he smiles when he looks at you, his hand beckoning you to sit on his lap. You both miss Osferth. As much as you all are your own people and have not fallen into toxic codependency, it's better when it's the three of you together, under the same roof. Gently you curl yourself against Aemond, resting your head on his shoulder, eyes closed, simply relishing in the feeling of his frame surrounding yours.

It could have been hours or mere minutes, when Aemond gently scratches your back and you open your eyes.

"Take a bath with me" he asks with a soft voice "Yeah. I very much like this idea".

Summer is not in full bloom, yet, but there's humidity already, even in your neck of the woods. Aemond lifts and carries you bridal style while you laugh and curl your arms around his neck; he's so strong, deceptively so, his muscles wiry with an hidden power you love seeing.

Unhurried, you two undress each other, his fingers trailing down your rib cage until you squeal, your lips sucking gently on his nipples, his breathy moans drowned by the running water. You sit in the tub and admire Aemond while he pins his long hair up in a simple hairdo, to save them from getting wet; he's so breath taking beautiful, eerie and precise in the control he has of his body, each movement elegant, almost regal, even when he has to remove the sapphire prosthetic. You make grabby hands at him when he turns around, making him laugh as he sits between your splayed legs.

You two are not overly chatty people, often times preferring to just exist together, enjoying the shared silence. That's what you two are doing now, just feeling each other's presence, the perfect temperature of the water and the good smelling salts dissolved there.

When Aemond is absolutely relaxed in your arms, you start peppering kisses on his long neck, while one hand travels to his navel, to gently bring his erection to full mast. He moans, back arching when your strokes don't get any faster, your rhythm gentle and unhurried, until he relaxes again, goosebumps blossoming on his perfect skin. Your other hand on his chin turns his head, so you can kiss him, exploring his mouth, playing with his tongue in the filthiest of ways you can think of, his moans muffled against your hungry lips. You swallow his screams when he comes, back arching, full body shudders coursing through his body, until he's resting against you, trying to catch his breath while his brain rewires itself.

Later you two are back outside, Aemond with his thick book to study, you lying on a deck-chair, one of the cats purring on your tummy and the newest book by one of your favorite authors in your hands. You two are waiting for Osferth's evening call; you two can't wait to see your lover again.

Everythig taglist: @ilikeitbetterangsty

Poly taglist: @notyour-valentine​, @fan-goddess, @aegonx​

[first-edition]

Lost Born

Aemond Targeryan x (valerian) reader

Summary- Months of waiting to give your loving husband a son results in the worries you wished would never come true.

CW- still-born, blood, midwifing knowledge, cussing, birth-gore, 18+ themes, child birth, child loss.

This is an uncut and un edited short fic

Your screams of agony can be heard from part of the castle. Despite the commotion of the gathering down stairs. Your giving birth. After 9 long months of a brutal pregnancy it’s time for yours and Aemonds second child to be born. Your first being a girl want to give him a son, even though he did ask the gods for a daughter. 

His arms wrap around you as you grip onto his sleeve. Your chest heaving in pain, your body flushed with fever. 

Aemomd whisper confident word in your ear. Despite the midwife’s telling him he couldn’t be in the room he ignored them and has stayed with you, he was there for his daughters birth and wants to be there for the second. To calm you down, to keep you safe.

“no NO NO!” You scream  “It’s alright Ive got you.” Aemond kisses your temple. “n-no no a-aemond something’s w-wrong.” You pant shaking.

“he should be out by now…something….s-someth-AHH!” You scream the pain overwhelming you.

You let go of your husband sitting up. 

“Y/n!” He protests. 

“let me up!” You say to your mid wives. 

“princess you need stay.” she says. 

“UP!” You yell they nod and help you up the only thing covering you nude frail body is the blood stained cotton sheet wrapped around you. Yet even that falls to floor as you hobble to the edge of the room aemond following close behind waiting for any moment if you so need him.

“princess you need to push!” One midwife says you lean forward against a table holding your self up looking down as blood drips onto the stone flooring. The weight of your self fall in as you drop to you knees aemond scrambling to your aide.

“NO NO PLEASE!” You scream at your unbornchild 

You scream as the pain surged through your body. You hand grips side of the chain so tightly your knuckles turn white and and the skin peels back on your palm. You scream murder into the air as your lungs burn. 

“AHHH!” You arms and legs shake her muscles ache. Sweat pours through your skin. How you wish your child would come out. Yelling and screaming for it to leave. Your vision is blurred stained with tears eye shut tight. Your hands and legs bloodied the fear you’ll die during this with aemond to be left in sadness on your body, as you push your way through it.

Silence…nothing but her ragged breath and soft rattle of the chair post against your shaking body. Looking down your heart breaks, your child. His child. Thier baby still-born. The cord wrapped around it’s neck. Purple pink only slight misshaped from the birth. Asleep peaceful. 

Shakily you pick up the babe dispite still attached in side your womb. Holding it tight. Sobs ring out of you. Heart breaking. Your name is called. A clean cotton sheet is placed over your body as aemond pulls you into a hug. 

“i-it’s a boy!” You sob into his chest. 

“you dont not need to give me a son for our house. Im in love with our daughter just as she is. You do not have to stay to the standards of tradition. Not in this house…not if the price is your death.” Aemond says pulling you closer to him soothing you.

[lemonhemlock]

you said that borros would be happy with the gift maris is getting from aemomd may i ask why? i havent read the books so i dont know much about him or his personality so what would his reaction be to their relationship? why is he hapoy with his gifts to her?

well, anon, at some point you gotta start straight up inventing stuff when considering an AU

borros seems like the type to troll his daughters and show affection by annoying them

also i thought it would be funny if he felt aemond was showing them respect in a twisted way by sending maris fucked-up tokens of his devotion

remember this is one of the houses that hosted the x-factor auditions for rhaenyra's suitors and she was generally ungrateful, even borros' dad was exasperated with her

which is to say they're used to rhaenyra taking them for granted (see luke's stint as a messenger) so maybe now they feel a little... idk, acknowledged? it's meant to be a comedy!

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

| When One Possesses A Thing | Aemond/Married!Reader

Summary: She arrives to the Red Keep immensely dissatisfied with her marriage. Aemond proposes an alternative | Word Count: 3.8k~ | Warnings below the cut!

Links to my Taglists: General Taglist | Aemond Targaryen Taglist

Warnings: mentions of being in an unhappy marriage, universe canon aversion of homosexuality, mentions of homosexuality being a sin, mentions of fertility, threats of death, voyeurism, breeding kink, size kink if you squint really hard, p in v sex

@ewanmitchellcrumbs Ty for reading this through first 😭

When Aemond was informed by his mother of the arrival of one Lord from the Riverlands, of whose name he could not even be bothered to remember, he’d merely turned his head away, resisting a shrug of his shoulders and expressing immense disinterest.

That was until, Aemond clapped eyes on his Lady wife. 

He observed as she often held back behind her husband, hands clasped at the front, her fingers glimmering with golden rings and wrists with intricate bracelets, as well as one particular necklace that hung daringly around her neck, the pendant lingering above the cut of her dress with the shadow of her cleavage beneath.

They had, of course, arrived in celebration of King Viserys’ upcoming nameday. Not an event Aemond could say for himself that he would enjoy with any degree of certainty. He knew Aegon would find any excuse to drown himself in his cups and leer at the accompanying wives of the elder Lords, and that Helaena would simply attend, but be preoccupied with her thoughts and imagination as she so often was.

The Lord himself was tall, but slender, as if he had not broadened from age. Aemond observed that he seemed sprightly but aloof. Several times he forgot to make the proper pleasantries and introduce his own wife. Her gentle, warm face did not flounder with embarrassment, but she simply smiled, curtsied and introduced herself with a smooth, honey-like voice. 

Her husband gave her a nod of the head, his mouth set into a frown as he whispered something to her as his companion threw his arm around the Lord and dragged him off to the closest place they could find wine. 

The look on her face made it seem like this was a regular occurrence. Her husband snubbing her in favour of spending time with his male friends, not really even bothering to ask what she would do to occupy herself in a new, strange environment. 

She slipped away like a whisper, a cloud of silks billowing behind her as she made for any spot within the Red Keep that might entertain her. Alone.

Several laps through the decorated hallways, brushes through the gardens and wanderings past the Library later, she soon found herself face to face with the skull of a dragon, hung high above a table thick with candle wax, hardened from the years of merely replacing them. The stench of tallow was overwhelmed somewhat by the dampness of the cavernous space, and the smoking incense placed at each corner of the table.

The skull was enormous. Bigger than any animal she had ever seen on land. Those big sockets where its eyes used to be staring down at her, sucking her into its world of rich histories and conquerors. 

“My Lady”

The echo of Aemond’s voice did not make her jump, but it did steal her attention, her waves rolling over her shoulder as she turned to see the source. 

He could not help but marvel at her grace and the way her dress, so traditionally worn, happened to hang off her body in the most tempting of ways, emphasising her womanly curves. Though he had one eye, he himself could not miss the pressing of her breasts against the front of her corseted garment. 

“My Prince” she greeted in the same manner of tone as him, her lips turning upwards almost indistinctively as she gave a polite curtsy. He gave her a small bow back, intrigued. 

He took wide, calculated strides towards her into the candlelight. And she watched as his form came out of the darkness, his silver Targaryen hair illuminated by the warmth around them.

“Do you know his name?” he asked, in a manner that insisted he might have been testing the young woman.

“Of course” she answered calmly, “Balerion. Ridden by Aegon the Conqueror, was he not?”

Aemond bowed his head, one eyebrow twitching, as if he had not actually expected her to know. This Riverland bound beauty was a surprise at every turn. He did not respond, feeling his expression was enough.

And it seemed she understood, as she smiled.

“I am no historian, my Prince. But it is difficult to feign ignorance to the victories that have been written of Targaryens”

He bit back a grin. Feeling his ego inflate somewhat.

“So you read then, my Lady?”

She cocked her head, “You seem surprised”

“Not surprised” he answered immediately, standing a good distance from her, “Merely intrigued”

He watched with further interest how her eyes were level with his chest, and how they dragged from the dragon-embellished doublet, over his neck, and to his gaze again.

“I do indeed enjoy reading” she mused, as if the suggestion she did not would have offended her.

“Only history?”

“Of all genres” she adds, with a knowing smile, “All such subjects are of interest to me”

They fell into comfortable silence, listening to the wafting of the candle flames whipping in the soft breeze. 

Her shoes clicked in a satisfying way as she turned back to the great skull.

“The King rode the Black Dread, did he not?”

Aemond fought back the urge to kiss his teeth, feeling as if at this moment, as he was lusting for the woman stood beside him, how much he did not want to think about his father.

“He did”

She turned to him, perhaps recognising the lack of affection in his reply.

“I suppose it is of no great merit to you, my Prince. As you claimed Vhagar after all”

“Vhagar is my pride” he answered, feeling warmth inside him as she recognised his efforts, one which cost him his eye. 

“As all dragons should be to Targaryens” she offered, “she is certainly a marvel. My Lord husband can barely tame a horse”

He laughed through his nose at her quip. Being able to envision the moment exactly as she described it. 

“And pray tell, how long have you been wed, my Lady?”

He almost regretted asking, seeing how her smile suddenly disappeared from her face. Like the sun had gone behind a cloud. She looked down, preoccupied with smoothing down her dress.

“Several years now”

“And no children?” he adds, watching the way she bites her lip, thinking he cannot see it.

“My husband does not enjoy the act of procreation”

His head tips at her reply. Perhaps not having expected her to be so honest.

“And what does your husband enjoy doing?”

Sighing distantly, her eyes ticked over to him, “Riding”, she replies simply.

His lips part to reply, and yet he does not have time to interject.

“Other men at least”

Silence falls between them at the weight of what she’s said. 

"A fact he conveniently kept hidden from me until marriage, I may add".

For a moment he is unsure what to say, as she stands, a sad, resigned smile on her face, waiting for him to reply.

“I see”

Absentmindedly, she wanders along the table, her hand running over the hardened wax.

"I care not of his affections for men. I only care that he does not conjure up the respect for me as he does his bedfellows" she sighs, “though as I am sure you understand, my Prince. As his wife, I must support him”.

“Even if what he does is a sin?”

It’s like she had expected that question. Something akin to a grimace appearing, “Even that”.

She sighs, “I must bear the brunt of the rumours surrounding my fertility and commitment to my marriage. Protect myself, where my husband cannot”.

“He does not protect you?”

“If we are speaking plainly, my husband rarely acknowledges my existence” she answers, her fingers playing nervously with one another, “more a hindrance than say, a life partner”.

“Then, if I might be so bold to say, you are doing more of your own duty than he is. The scales are unbalanced, so to speak”.

Her head raises to look at him, something playful lighting up her features, “And what is a husband’s duty?”.

“To protect his wife, of course”

She pauses. Knowing she cannot disagree to that. 

In any normal marriage, that is exactly what she would expect.

“And a wife’s is to provide him with children”

“That is no fault of yours, if you are to be believed” he raises an eyebrow. Attempting despite his nature, to be somewhat comforting.

She smiles again, laughing half-heartedly, her hand slipping from the table to wander about the room, trying to free herself from the stifling feeling of being close to him.

He remembered reading a book of loose morals, which at the time he recalled feeling indifferent towards, about the late Lady Coryanne Wilde, detailing her multiple escapades of lovers, indulging in the desires which had long been suppressed by women before and after her. 

“And you do not seek pleasure elsewhere?” he asked, hoping the suggestion would not offend her. But if he had studied her well enough in this short time he’d known her, he was confident it would not.

She smiled, her head lowered to the candles on the opposite side of her table. Her face illuminated warmly.

“Gossip is a ghastly thing” she stated, “Once a small fire is started then my dishonourable actions only fan the flames. I do not wish to be the subject of such disapproval, as I already am in my Lord’s eyes. And perhaps the Gods too”

“And yet, your husband has a lover”

Not a question, and her gaze averted at the tone of the statement. 

“His advisor. And childhood companion” she nods.

“In my view, it is only fair that he allow you to seek one”

“Perhaps that is where you are mistaken, my Prince. For I am the one with the womb” she responded, “therefore, I must bear the humiliation along with it”. 

Her gaze longingly lowered, and it did not go amiss that it happened to graze over his tall, broad form.

"In any case, it does not matter. Any children we would have had would be his, not mine"

That was true as well, Aemond mused. 

"His heirs. His future.

"By refusing to allow me to give him children, he is only doing more damage to his own house. 'Tis of no consequence to me".

She had done one lap of the large, candle adorned table. 

"You seem perfectly resigned to your fate, my Lady"

She hums. Standing before him, his eye raked over her, yearning for her, having had such an intelligent conversation with her. 

"Perhaps I am. My husband is young. Barely half a decade older than I" she says, "it stands to reason, I may be tied to him for quite some time".

Aemond cannot argue with that, try as he might.

Everything she has said so far, has been sensible. 

So he nods, "now, that is a sad thought" he muses.

It was only then either of them had realised how quiet their conversation had become, and how low his voice was when he spoke to her. It was difficult to deny how close they were to one another, in a manner most unbecoming of a single man and a married woman. 

And yet neither of them moved away.

It was unfortunate, her situation. And though he knew it might have been wrong of her to simply sit idly by, while her husband amused himself with his male lover, he could not find it in himself to reproach her. 

“Am I not how you envisaged, my Prince?”

He fought the urge to chuckle, “Not in the slightest”.

She bit her lip, to fight back a smile, realising perhaps she was doing so too much in his presence.

“That I was an intemperate wife, refusing to perform my duties? That I am barren, and incapable of giving him heirs?”

He felt his hands form fists behind him. 

“I would not think such things”

“Hm” her eyes once again went over him in a way that made him go all warm, “You are not how I envisaged, either”.

“How so, my Lady?” Aemond asked, amused that she had formed her own opinion before properly meeting as well.

"Many at court say you are tempestuous. Stubborn. Proud" she says, "and you very well may be all of those things. All pejorative descriptors. And yet…there is something else".

He wanted to laugh at that. Of course the other Ladies at Court had opinions of him that were unsavoury, given his common disposition. 

"I can be all those things, it is true" Aemond replies, "above all those, some say I am too particular. That I require too much in a person to respect them".

She tipped her chin up, meeting his gaze head on, but also emboldened by what she perceived was an intimate conversation.

“And what is it you require?”

He licked his teeth, smiling, watching her eyes as she stares at the way his lips turned upwards. As if entranced. 

“A wit” he states, “a passion” he purrs.

The tone does not go unnoticed. Aemond watches with satisfaction as she swallows thickly, now seemingly uncomfortable standing still on the spot. Her breasts pressed repeatedly and steadily against the corset of her dress as her breathing picked up.

“"And is that what you desire? Someone to match your wit? Your passion?"

All the air was thick in the room as he took one careful step forward, leaning over her, now able to see more of the shadow of her cleavage beneath the silks. Her cheeks bloomed with colour, but she dare not move off her spot.

“Perhaps”.

He could hear her breath. Like he was tuned to it already. The humming of her blood beneath her flesh felt invigorating, and for one brief moment, Aemond allowed himself to wonder what it would be like to sink his teeth into her, to taste her. To try and sense who she really was, what her desires were.

She shivered at his warm breath at the side of her face.

“"I could protect you, my lady" he whispers, blinking longingly, voice like the purr of a cat, "your husband cannot".

"If you were mine, you'd not want for desire. Nor affection. I would keep you round with child, you’d be such a beautiful mother with my heir inside you”.

She gasps at the blatancy of it, for they had for several moments danced around such a subject, in favour of decorum and manners. And now her chest rose and fall steadily with every utterance, "I am a married woman-"

"To a man who does give a shit about duty. About you" he counters, “nor your desires”.

“‘Tis not my husband’s nocturnal activities that vex me, my Prince, it is his lack of respec-”

"I would have you. Respect you. Ravage you"

For a moment, her mouth slams shut, fearing that her reaction to his flagrant desire for her would expose her.

“A good gentleman. A good man…rises above such mortal things as lust".

There she goes again, trying to be the ever-good wife to her husband, who even now, perhaps does not even know her true whereabouts. 

"Then perhaps I am not a good man" he replies, "and perhaps it is not merely lust".

"What then?" she asks quickly. 

There is a beat. Aemond wets his lips, watching as she trembles at his proximity. Each breath wafting the curls either side of her face.

“Intrigue”.

She swallows again, attempting to brush off the heavy tension with a half-laugh, “I'm afraid intrigue does not free me of my situation, my Prince".

Aemond hums, righting himself to full height, not stepping away from her, but rather using his size to his advantage by having her crane her neck to meet gazes. With a simple shuffle of his boots, he manages to manoeuvre her body without touching her, doing exactly as he planned and forcing her own feet to stagger backwards.

"Then how unfortunate it would be, for a terrible accident to befall your husband".

Her wide eyes caught the light of the candles as her back met the adorned table.

He did not stop coming towards her. 

Not until he was so close, that one exhale, and he would be pressed flush.

Her cheeks bloomed once more for him.

Aemond feigns a thoughtful expression, “Infection, as a result of injury?” he questions, “No. Too slow”.

The air felt humid and she felt her core clench around nothing realising what he wanted. 

Aemond’s large palms, even through the layers of silks, felt as if they were branding the very skin of her thighs as he lifted her onto the table. 

"Perhaps paying a servant to poison his wine?"

She made no protest, her eyes glimmered with anticipation when she felt his calloused, sword-worn fingers drift along her calves to lift her skirts. The air, though warm, prickled at her flesh merely at the idea of what he planned to do to her.

“I know” he smiled, watching as she gasped sharply as he pulled her thighs towards him, standing between her outstretched legs as they squeezed his hips.

“Thrown off his horse and trampled to death?"

He dragged his nose over her cheek, watching her eyelashes flutter at the sensation, his fingers digging into the meat of her thighs, dying to rip her smallclothes to shreds.

He whispered, placing a loud, open-mouthed kiss to the space between her ear and neck. She shivered in his touch, though not revealing any intimate part of her body, she felt very much as if he had peeled back her being, and stared into her soul.

“A fitting end”.

She exhaled with difficulty, feeling it catch in her throat as Aemond teasingly wrapped two fists around her smallclothes and tore without mercy to the fabric. 

He raised his head only slightly, to see the reaction he had extracted from her.

Her eyes were shut, her lips parted for breath.

"Gods, you look like a maiden when I touch you" he whispered appreciatively.

A pitiful moan fell from her lips as Aemond drew two digits up her womanhood, collecting the slick he knew would be there on his fingertips. Her hand tightened on his leather-clad arm, needing somewhere to express this overwhelming feeling.

"It is because it is you who has touched me like this for the first time".

His eye darkened, the colour eclipsed by black.

“Your husband has not even touched you?”

She shook her head softly, now revealing what embarrassment she had desperately kept inside for so long.

“The marriage was consummated…but that was all…” she answered through hurried breaths as Aemond drew patterns on her pearl with the aid of her wetness, "he would not touch me after that..."

"And you did try, didn't you? To tempt him? Like a good little wife?"

"Y-yes...but he refused..." she answered, her voice wavering, "...he would not even share a bed with me..."

He chuckled, "Then we had best make this a memorable occasion, then. My Lady”.

Having used his other hand to unlace his breeches, he released his cock, groaning with relief as he stroked himself, squeezing arousal from the ruddy tip.

Nobody was more surprised than Aemond, when his lady reached down between them to stroke him with smooth, languid motions, her hand in opposition to his, barely encircling his length. 

Their hedonistic expressions met. His breath coming in short bursts with every squeeze of her palm around his throbbing arousal. 

“I do not wish for him to die” she breathed, her voice heavy, “only for him to disappear. So that I may pursue my own happiness”.

He cocked his head.

“I do not wish to be a murderer”.

She was quite a woman, Aemond thought. Having gotten him this close to having her, and only now making demands, as if he could refuse her.

He smirked.

“Then it shall be done”.

With the promise sealed, she guided his length between her legs, angling her hips up for him as his cockhead kissed her slick folds. Impatient as Aemond was, he moved forward in one motion, watching her throw her head back as he sheathed the entirety of himself within her. 

Her cunt squeezed his cock like a maiden, and yet she did not protest to his harsh treatment of her, in fact, spurring him on with the sounds she was making, clutching onto the front of him with every sharp, true and deep thrust of his cock into her. 

"Gods - you are as tight as a maiden - squeezing my cock so tightly - "

One hand stayed around her back to keep her flush to him, sliding up her spine, long fingers threading through her hair at the base of her neck and pulling on her for leverage, using his hold on her body to fuck himself into her. Her breasts, beneath her dress, ached to spring free from their passionate movements, jolting the gold necklace held snugly there.

Aemond was entirely entranced by the image he saw when he looked between them, his cock driving into her with fevor, glazed with her arousal and meeting her fleshy hips with a wet smack each time. 

“I’ll have my heirs inside you in no time, Princess” he whispered, pressing his lips against the column of her throat, parting them once in a way to nip at her tender skin, “you shall have everything you desire”.

Her half-lidded eyes opened, the pressure in her core building excessively at the force of him driving so quickly into her, in this position, pulling her onto his length aggressively, bullying a rough, pleasurable place inside her she was not able to reach herself. 

“What is it you desire, Princess?” he asks, his thrusts becoming somewhat stuttered and messy, his eye screwing shut as his body wound tight, ready to burst at any moment. His hair stuck irritatingly to his forehead and face, from the exertion of fucking her.

“You…Aemond - you...”

He grinned, increasing the intensity of his thrusts, watching her warmed cheeks and body jolting with each smack of his hips. He felt her cunt flutter around him and reached down to apply the same pressure as he had before to her bud, to which she let out a near choked-moan, one hand tightening onto his doublet and the other white-knuckled holding onto the table, emboldened by the act and the fact that they could be caught at any moment in such a disastrous position.

He watches with excitement as she peaks around his length, her cunt sucking him within her from the pressure of her destructive orgasm, just begging for him to spend inside her, and hopefully, in nine moons time, round and large with his heir.

With a choked, staggered moan of his own, Aemond grips her so tightly, she would surely bruise, as he spills himself inside her hot, wet cunt. Filling her impossibly and entirely with his hot, sticky spend, thrusting shallowly to ensure it is as deep inside her as possible. His cock throbs with utter desire, hearing the little mewls of moans still falling from her glistening lips. 

She whines softly when he pulls out of her, watching with intense satisfaction at how his arousal as well as hers has made her womanhood glisten.

“You will really do it?...” she asks, still catching her breath.

Aemond huffs a laugh, tucking his softening length back into his breeches, “For your sweet cunt, I am confident I would do anything”.

His Lady smiles back, exhaustedly, pulling her tattered smallclothes off her legs, watching with both confusion and brief fear when Aemond smoothes his silver hair down and walks away.

“Where are you going?” she asks after him, pulling her skirts down.

He half turns, flashing a signature smirk.

“To ask your husband and lover to join me on a hunt. My dear Princess”.

dividers by @firefly-graphics

General Taglist: @aemondsfavouritebastard | @bellstwd | @blairfox04 | @hb8301  | @jamespotterismydaddy | @mochi-rose | @nenelysian | @natty2017 | @randomdragonfires  | @risefallrise  | @theoneeyedprince  | @thelittleswanao3 | @tsujifreya  | @urmomsgirlfriend1  | @valeskafics  | @watercolorskyy

Aemond Taglist (1): @asp3nxx | @avidreader73  | @bellaisasleep

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

No Pain, No Gain | Part 1 | PersonalTrainer!Aemond x fem!reader

Summary: The personal trainer your roommate Baela recommended to you is rude, condescending but also hot as hell. Series Masterlist.

A/N: shoutout to my personal trainer Alex for rotting my brain. This is my first modern!Aemond fic, so any feedback is genuinely appreciated, I hope you enjoy this, it was an absolute ball to write (and there will be more!)

Also I could not post this without tagging some absolute modern!Aemond QUEENS who inspired me to write this. @valeskafics @oneeyedvisenya @sapphire-writes​ you’re the real ones! Also massive hug to @ewanmitchellcrumbs​ for hyping me up and being a parent to this child she didn't choose to create.

warnings: EVENTUAL SMUT, 18+, sexual tension, binge eating, mentions of breakup, cursing, dickhead Aemond, reader is horny af, English slang (soz), warnings will be added when needed

To say you were broken-hearted would be a bit of an understatement.

You were angry, annoyed, frustrated, wound up tight and pissed off to the highest degree.

And it showed in how you acted these days as you polished off the salty family-size bag of crisps on your own in 10 minutes flat.

You look over at your phone and sigh when you see it’s already 6 o’clock in the afternoon. Another day sat on the sofa, wallowing in self-pity, eating yourself into oblivion and fairly soon pouring a glass of Baela’s finest white wine (now that it was officially almost evening anyway and it was justified).

Scrolling through instagram was like twisting the dagger that was already in your chest. All that stupid fucking app could show you was ‘ex in the bar with his new girlfriend’, ‘ex in the drive-thru with his new girlfriend’, ‘ex on the beach with his new girlfriend’.

It made you want to throw your phone directly at the wall. But you settled for squeezing the life out of it, imagining it was your ex’s stupid face instead.

The absolute waste of space had broken up with you over text on the night you were supposed to go out on a date. And as if that was not bad enough, not even two weeks had gone by before he’d managed to stick his dick into someone else with a pulse. At the time, you were so angry that you didn’t accuse him of anything, he’d already broken up with you. But you did suspect that this ‘sudden’ relationship he’d gotten into wasn’t as recent as first thought. 

It’s been a month since you found out about the other woman.

And clearly you were coping really well.

Indulging wasn’t something you usually did, but now you feel you deserved it. 

“Hello~” the soft, ringing voice of your roommate Baela was at the door. You half-considered hiding all the packets of various foods you’d managed to stuff down your gob, but Baela had seen worse of you. She’d seen you while you were throwing your guts up after freshers week at university. Nothing was worse than that and you shuddered at the memory.

She walks in, looking more put together than you by a long way, having been hanging out with her sister all day. That’s what you like about Baela, she’s not judgemental, and so when she sees you’ve barely moved an inch she just flashes her usual smile.

“Good day then?” she says with a smirk. You raise your eyebrows in return.

“Apart from seeing him plastered all over instagram I’m great” 

“Got any left?” she asks, extending a greedy hand for a crisp. You offer her the bag with a sigh as she slumps on the sofa next to you. She watches boredly whatever you have on the TV,

"Why don't you just block him?" She asks. And to be fair, she has a point.

But you huff and shove another crisp in your mouth, whining, "Cos I'm a nosy bitch with no boundaries"

Baela sighs, pulling out her own phone and scrolling through her notifications, "As much as I love you y/n, this is pathetic, even for you"

You'd be offended if she wasn't completely right. And you know she's only half joking so you just shrug.

"How was Rhaena?" You ask.

"Yeah fine, usual shit with Dad. Oh I didn't tell you-" she starts.

She has that glint in her eye which spells trouble. She's got gossip and you raise your eyebrows in anticipation.

"Hold that thought, wine first?"

"Obviously"

After giggling and waltzing over to the counter to pour two glasses of the finest box wine you could get for under seven English pounds, you hand her one and wait almost too excitedly for her to spill whatever sweet gossip she has.

She sips it, almost like she needs the liquid courage to begin, and she hisses at the sweet, acidic taste.

"God that's foul" 

"It was 2 for 1!" You retort with a laugh, but she is right, it does taste foul, "Stop stalling, tell me tell me tell me" 

She looks at you as if to say bitch, you are not fucking ready.

“Dad’s married Rhaenyra” 

The force of which your jaw drops open is almost comical. You’d guessed for a while that they were at least fucking, but to just elope?!

“I need money, cos I betted on this shit happening!” 

“Oh my gosh, Rhaena was fucking hysterical. Jace and Luke aren’t surprised at all, but Alicent is beside herself in the family group chat, it should honestly be a reality TV show” Baela says scrolling through said group chat. From what you can see without being too nosy, is that there’s a lot of long paragraphs and angry emojis.

“What about Viserys, surely he’s…” you ask, trailing off to sip the pissy wine in your hands.

“Oh no, he’s thrilled. Which pisses Alicent off even more if that’s possible”

“Baela I think your Uncle’s gone insane” you bite your lip to stifle a laugh.

“No fucking kidding”

You slump back onto the sofa, “Holy shit, I am a genius. I knew the whole time” you say, smirking in victory.

“And so humble too” Baela gives a sarcastic grin which you return.

“How do you feel about it?”

Baela shucks her phone onto the coffee table, sighing, “Not bothered, we’re all adults now, so it hardly makes a difference to me. Suppose it’ll get Dad to stop bringing back random women now” she says exasperated, “but Rhaenyra gets the impression we’re all really bothered so she’s invited us all to a retreat for a week. Think she just wants to butter us up for marrying our Dad”

“Oh? Anywhere nice?”

Baela looks over, giving you a wearied look.

“What?”

“Well that brings me to you”

“Oh god, what” you ask, dropping the tone to emphasise the seriousness of the talk all of a sudden.

Baela fiddles with the remote, in an attempt to appear cute, “Well~ There’s a spare ticket going and you’re my bestest friend. And I would hate to endure a week of watching my Dad eat Rhaenyra’s face off, so come with me please?” she begs.

You sigh, “Baela usually I would love to sponge off you like that but-”

“Pleasepleaseplease~” she begs, “Rhaena’s bringing her boyfriend and we’re basically together!” 

You fake a gagging sound.

“Oh come on, a week on a beach in bikinis,sweltering weather with as many cocktails as you can hold isn’t exactly torture”

You give her an incredulous look, opening your arms to emphasise all the bags of junk food around you, “Do I look beach body ready to you?!”

“Oh fuck off, you’re hot and have an ass that can keep the world fed” 

“I know I am hot, I just don’t feel hot” you stare blankly at the TV, trying to ignore her and stuff another crisp into your mouth.

Baela sighs, “I was just thinking it would be a nice distraction, that’s all” 

“I want to it’s just…” you start, trying to think of the right words, “...I don’t feel my best”

Baela gives you a playful slap on your arm, “Look, forget your ex, he’s dumb as fuck and it’s not solving anything by staying inside with the curtains drawn all day. If you want to feel better, might be worth taking care of yourself a bit, hm?” 

Fuck her, you think, rolling your eyes, she’s right.

You hate how often she’s right. Because she gets that look on her face when she is. Always has done.

“How about that gym membership you’ve not used since February?” she asks,

“Okay firstly, ouch. Secondly, I realised I don’t know the first thing about how to work out in a gym, besides the guys there were…weird”

You shudder at the thought. It was January and so all the new year’s resolution guys were at it in full swing, using the gym as a means to try and pick up girls. And since graduating you find that more often than not the guys who hit on you were students. Maybe it was different now?

Baela pokes her cheek with her tongue, racking her brain.

“One of my cousins is a personal trainer? I could text him to see if he’s happy to take you on. Mates rates” she smiles.

You side-eye her hard. You’ve heard briefly about her cousins. Some of the stories are a bit more…eccentric than others. And even though you’ve never met them, you’ve heard enough stories to satisfy your curiosity. 

“This isn’t the manwhore cousin, right? Because if it is then no” 

She scoffs, “No. Aegon hasn’t set food in a gym since graduating and he only went cos it was free. The personal trainer one is Aemond. He’s a bit…anti-social?” she pulls a face when she says it.

“He’s anti-social and he’s a personal trainer?” you ask, eyebrow raised, “makes so much sense”

Baela scrolls through her contacts, “Yeahhh. Don’t worry though, he’s just grumpy” she explains, “want me to text him?”

Your head falls to the edge of the sofa in a huff. You want to go and on top of that, it might be nice to finally have a break. That and you’d love to shove it in your exes face when he sees you’re on holiday looking your hottest. 

“How long ‘til the holiday?”

Baela grins victoriously, “A month and a bit. He does a month course for stuff like this, I can ask him about it”

What the fuck am I getting myself into, you think briefly.

Fuck it.

“Fine”

The force at which Baela’s nails tap against the screen is almost desperate.

Baela snorts a laugh at the message and turns her phone to show you the messages.

“He seems lovely” you roll your eyes sarcastically.

“Like I said, he’s just grumpy. He’ll be professional though” she says.

You sigh, crushing the empty bag of crisps in your hands.

“Can’t wait” 

After following him on instagram, you did a bit of shameless stalking. You’d heard a little bit about Aemond from Baela talking about her family, but he seemed the most mysterious out of all of them (save for the youngest whose name she struggled to even remember). 

He had very little photos of himself, mainly progress pictures of other clients he’s helped. And he seems to be pretty successful so far. A girl with a similar body to you managed to get toned on his one-month program and looked hot afterwards, so you had some high hopes that it was possible for you as well. But you did wonder what he looked like. There were only two photos where he was in frame, and he’d been tagged by another person, looking away from the camera.

From what you could see, he was very tall, lithe and slim but built, with silver hair that had been pulled up into a bun. Ah, so he’s a man-bun type of guy. Yikes. 

Unfortunately, the photo showed very little of his face, so you couldn’t be too nosy.

You sent a very brief message, introducing yourself, trying not to cringe at the idea that he might be doing the exact same stalking to your instagram right at this moment. A shiver went up your spine at the thought. 

It’s only when you’re in TKMaxx with Baela, shopping for gym gear the next day, that you finally get a reply from him. 

“What do you think of just wearing a sports bra?” Baela says, eyeing up a black shirt.

You’re too busy staring at the message, “Hm? Oh, I’d just go in gym leggings and a bra yeah. Just got a reply from your mysterious cousin”

Baela hops over, “What’s he said? Nothing bad I hope” she grins.

 You show her the screen.

Baela raises her eyebrows, “Very formal. Guess I shouldn’t be surprised” she says, seeming surprised that he’s at least cordial.

“It’s very ‘serial-killer-esque’ of him not to have a profile picture” you joke, locking your phone again.

Baela picks out a black gym set. Black leggings with a mesh pocket on the side for your phone and a black sports bra. You nod, “Yeah looks good to me”

“Oh please you’re gonna look hot in this” she smirks, leading you over to the counter to pay.

She rewards you for your efforts by driving you to McDonald's drive-thru. A send off to junk-food so to speak.

And when Monday rolls around, you nod in the mirror. She was right, it does look hot on you. At least in the safety of your flat where there’s nobody to look at you. In a gym, surrounded by other fit people and a personal trainer you’ve never met? It might feel slightly different.

There’s a faint swirl of anxiety in your gut but you pull your trainers on, grab a hair tie from your nightstand and drive to the gym you’ve agreed to meet at. Luckily it’s your local gym, large and packed to the brim with some good equipment at least. And you briefly wonder what kind of workouts you’ll be doing before pulling into the car park.

You see him as soon as you enter the gym. He’s very tall, slender but muscular and fucking gorgeous. What the fuck, is all you can think when you shamelessly scan him from head to toe. Like the pictures, he has his long silver hair in a bun, with a few pieces having come free and falling around his face. His legs are miles long in the black sweats he’s wearing, as well as the black top that sticks a bit too snugly to his front and shoulders, making your mouth water a bit.

And you can’t help but admire his side profile, how his jaw just so naturally and sharply juts into his chin. How his cheekbones sit so prominently and high on his face, framing his features. His sharp, defined nose. And you can’t see from here because he’s looking down at his phone, but his eyelashes are unnaturally long for a man. It’s just unfair, frankly.

Shaking yourself briefly from the trance you were in, you right yourself and approach him.

He looks up to see you before you even have a chance to open your mouth. Now that he's looking at you face on, you can see the shocking blue of his right eye and the paler, soft hue of the other. Not only that but the angry scar that ran down the side of his face, extending from his forehead to the mid part of his cheek, straight through the eye.

You look at it for a split second, surmising that perhaps he's partially sighted or blind in that eye. But you choose not to say anything and instead smile with an awkward wave.

"Hey, you must be Aemond"

He openly drags his eyes over you, from head to toe, just like you did a moment ago without his knowledge. But now that you're standing right in front of him, in the gym gear that you totally don't feel a bit self conscious in, it feels a bit weird.

He doesn't reply for a moment.

"I'm y/n" you say, forcing a smile to your nervous face.

"Hm" he responds lowly, "Baela's friend" 

You pull an awkward face and nod.

You feel so stupidly small against this absolute giraffe of a man and you daren't step forward any more, for fear of looking even smaller under his judgemental and indifferent gaze.

He sighs and gestures for you to follow him, seeming disinterested as he looks down at his phone. For a brief second you wonder how this guy keeps his clients if he's this rude, but you shake the thought away, not wanting to judge too quickly.

He leads you into one of the consultation rooms, separate from the rest of the gym. He sits on one of the seats, sighing as if he's had the hardest day in the world and taking a swig of water from his bottle.

Sat across from him, you feel a bit small under his gaze. He's quite intimidating, you now find.

"Have you ever worked out before" he asks flatly.

You shrug, "I've tried I guess, but never super seriously" you laugh awkwardly, but he doesn't return it.

He runs his eyes over you again, as if to say yeah I can see that.

"Stand up. Shoes off. We're going to take your weight and measurements" he orders, going to his bag to grab some things.

It's beyond awkward and quiet in the room with him as he idly takes down your weight, height and current eating habits, which you've had to be more honest about than you'd cared to admit.

Standing in the middle of the room, he twirls his measuring tape on his fingers. He measures your upper body first, which isn't too bad until he gets to your bust. You try and look anywhere else in the room while he measures across it, his fingers landing softly at either arm, taking a note of the measurement. You internally scold yourself, he is so much taller and surely must be able to see right down the sports bra. It only serves to make your face heat up with embarrassment.

If that wasn't enough, he gets to your lower body, measuring your hips and then thighs. He gets to his knees to do it and you resist the urge to pull your hands into fists at the proximity of him to your intimate area, separated only by a thin pair of gym leggings and underwear.

He doesn't seem to bother himself with the awkwardness. And every time you look at his face, he seems indifferent, bored even. Even then, his face is unnaturally beautiful, even with the scar.

He must really not like people.

Aemond sighs having taken all his notes.

"We'll do one training session and see how much weight we can do" he instructs. You nod.

"I expect you to be in the gym four times a week, three in the week and once at the weekend. We'll do one session together a week so I can check your progress" 

His tone is so flat, all you can do is nod. He looks at you,

"Got it?" 

Your cheeks heat up, "Um, yeah"

"Good"

He leads you outside to the actual gym floor which luckily isn't too busy, side-eyeing you massively when you pull your hair up into a ponytail to get it off your neck.

His large form leads you over to where the mats are kept, haphazardly throwing two to the floor.

He doesn't say anything past one or two word commands and it's incredibly difficult to not look in the mirror in front of you to watch him as he stretches. The way he stretches his arms over his head and it lifts the hem of his shirt a little, showing his happy trail, biceps rippling.

And when he does leg stretches, instructing you to do the same, you can't help but stare at how his thighs are basically bulging out from his sweats. It takes all of your strength and will to not look any higher than that towards his hips.

He watches your form as you try and copy him stretching. And your heart almost leaps into your chest when he uses his hand to move your ankle slightly, so that you put pressure on a certain muscle. But he focuses completely, professional.

Fuck, be professional.

All caution is thrown completely to the wind when he gets you on machines. He demonstrates some of them first, starting with the so-called 'easier' ones, like the inner and outer thigh machines that look way too…suggestive.

Of course, he's got it on a ridiculous weight to demonstrate which makes you scoff a bit. And when you get on the inner thigh machine, it locks into place with your legs spread. You thank every god there is that there's no mirror in front of you on this machine.

"You have to start with your legs spread as much as possible" he states simply, pushing the pads against your legs even further. It makes your eyes widen, sinful thoughts pop up in your head. But before they take root you shake them away.

It's ridiculously hard the first few times and he raises an eyebrow.

"Really?" He mocks a bit, the tiniest of smirks on his face "you're only on 14kg" 

"Fuck off" you mutter under your breath. He tuts and changes it to 9kg, bruising your ego a bit. But you finish the set nonetheless.

You think he's a bit of a psycho, because after that little remark he has you on every leg machine available. Making fun every time you have to be on the lowest weight.

After the session, you're aching in places you didn't even know existed and you haven't even rested yet. Knowing full well you'll be achy as fuck tomorrow and even wlrse than right now. The faintest sheen of sweet is visible on your pinkened chest.

"You're weaker than I thought" 

He runs his long fingers through his hair and you want to slap that stupid fucking self-indulgent look off his smug face seeing you all out of puff like this.

"Thanks, means a lot" you say sarcastically, drinking from a water bottle. He raises an eyebrow at the attitude.

"I'll send you your workout plan. If you have any issues do me a favour and don't bother me with them" he retorts.

"Charming" you mutter under your breath once he's gone past you. You watch as he walks away, briefly appreciating his broad shoulders, until the sour taste of his poor behaviour settles in. And you huff, texting Baela immediately.

You curse every god there is that you drive a manual car, because right now the thought of having your aching leg pressing on the clutch pedal might actually drive you to mass-murder.

This is going to be a long month.

Taglist: @mrsgrwy @lovelykhaleesiii

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

Consequences | Five

Word Count: 6.9k~ | Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, dark, medieval-canon sexism, heavy dub-con/noncon, DD:DNE, mean Aemond, manipulation, abusing power, gore, blood, violence, major angst, Aemond being a possessive horny weirdo with a power complex, kinslayer aemond, graphic depictions of medieval abortions, choking (and not in a kinky way), p in v, facefuckin (oral, m receiving), choking (in a kinky way), fingering

Series Masterlist  

A/N: okaaaay let’s go, please for the love of god, read the warnings. Apologies in advance to @ewanmitchellcrumbs for this one ily 😚

Everything had changed.

 King Viserys was dead. Aegon thrust on his throne in place of Princess Rhaenyra as his heir. And the maidservants and staff had been locked up for the entirety of it, to quell the spread of rumours. Only when the staff pledged their allegiance to Aegon II as their rightful King before the now Dowager Queen Alicent, were they allowed back to their duties, threatened with death on the basis of treason if they were found to be doing anything they shouldn’t.

 It was the most surreal, frightening experience of her young life. To be clutched at Hedi’s side, shaking and trembling, wondering if she’d ever see her siblings again.

 She wondered if her brother had succumbed to his illness and if her sister was winding herself to the ground with grief, as she had when their parents had died.

 She prayed to the Gods, namely the Mother and the Crone. For equally important things. To keep her loved ones safe, even if it meant that she was put into danger. To the Crone, for guidance. Although she did not know yet what exactly for.

 Everything had changed.

 Aemond pulled her body up from the bed to rest on her knees, to support her weight on her shaking arms and the motion had his cock brushing rather uncomfortably against her cervix. Her entire body felt hot, a stagnant, heavy feeling filled his chambers, as if it were humid inside. His thrusts were harder than they’d ever been before, making her skin ripple with movement of his rhythm.

 A series of hurried and half-pained breaths are all that left her, her cheeks stinging with heat as her tears ran over them.

 “What are you crying for, sweet girl” he grunts, delivering a particularly hard thrust, his large hand slapping her buttock and gripping tightly, “I know you like your Prince’s cock, don’t you, you little slut”

 Slut.

 Whore.

 She whimpered, his fingers digging into the meat of her skin roughly, hoping it would be enough of a response for him.

 Since his father had died, plunged into a civil war between his family. He’d been unpredictable. He would start the day calm enough, sometimes frighteningly so. But now that the days were becoming shorter with the weather, a looming dark cloud forever over King’s Landing, as if the Gods knew the trouble that was afoot, Aemond temper came with the storms and the rains.

 Destructive. Washing away everything living thing in his path.

 He reached down and wrapped his hand around her neck, roughly pulled her back up to meet his bare chest. Aemond’s fingers curled so tight around her neck, that for a split second, she thought that he might actually lose control and snap. But he pressed his lips against her ear, his fingertips harshly tearing at her thin and delicate skin, “Fucking answer me”

 He adjusts the endless thrust of his cock up into her, now they are controlled, deeper, as if trying to hide further and further inside.

 She could feel her air stuck beneath his hand, desperately trying to break free. Felt her head begin to get hot and foggy, vision blurred and her lips move but a barely audible sound is all that came out.

 “Yes…” she whispered. Just saying whatever she could to appease him.

 She had been afraid of him before. Many times. But now, the way he was now, she feared that he might actually harm her and that the damage might be irreparable.

 Aemond laughs against her back, the vibration of it humming uncomfortably in her body.

 Still with one hand around her neck but loosening his grip so that she can breathe once again, she almost weeps at the relief. Aemond chuckles darkly and pushes her back against the bed, grinning when he sees the familiar sheen of tears on her cheeks, watching her breasts rise and fall with the intensity of her breathing. He eases his other hand down her body, over her feminine hips, taking the meat of her thigh in his grasp to spread them apart once again, sighing contently at her glistening cunt, ready to take him again.

 “You are a terrible liar, sweet girl” he coos down at her, lowering his face so that his hair brushes against her nipples. A flash of fear passes her face, but Aemond seems to revel in it.

 He did say once, he would have her fear if nothing else.

 He pulls her by her hair to the edge of the bed, where her head briefly hangs over the edge. She whimpers at the tug on her follicles and it sends a prickling pain down her spine. He no longer holds back his grip like he used to. He swats her cheek, again not in the usual soft manner, but as a means to punish her for the outburst.

 “Shut up” he commands, standing in front of her.

 She looks up at him from where she’s laid as Aemond stands before her, holding his cock proudly by the base, shining with her slick. He prodded his tip against her lips, looking at her wide eyes beneath him. He smelled of sex, of her and his arousal mixed with one another. His hand comes down to her jaw, thumb pressing on her chin to open her mouth and Aemond sighs when he feels her hot, shuddered breath against his cock, twitching with excitement.

 He does it slowly, and plunges into her mouth, watching how his cock disappears down her throat, where the skin around her neck bulges where it's nestled. He feels her breathe through her nose and smirks, knowing that she’s doing as he had instructed her the first time, grinning at her endless obedience.

 “Good, sweet girl…” he growls, burying himself to the hilt within her warm and wet mouth, the head of his cock rammed down the smoothness of her throat.

 Hand still at her jaw for leverage, he cants his hips slowly, grunting heavily at the friction he gets from this angle and the sound it makes. But she herself makes no sound. Not even when his heavy stones sit warm against her face, briefly blocking off her air. Aemond watches as she takes it, her saliva coating his cock just as her slick had.

 Continuing to use her mouth for pleasure he runs his hand down her body, cupping his hand at her sex and running his fingers through her folds, collecting her wetness on them.

 “Perfect fucking cunt”

 He sinks two digits inside of her, his palm delivering friction to her clit at the same time, and he both fucks her mouth and her sex with the same rhythm, taking immense pleasure in the way her body responds.

 It’s out of her control. He plucks the pleasure from her without her even thinking about it. She whimpers around his cock, deeper than she ever thought he could be in her mouth. Her neck bobs with his shallow thrusts and his other hand rests against it, pleasuring himself through it.

 “Fuck-take it” he moans loudly, nearing his climax with accelerating and shocking speed. He fucks his fingers into her faster, intent on making her shake and writhe beneath him. Aemond increases the intensity of his thrusts with it, outright moaning as her mouth trembles around him.

 She whimpers, her insides clenching uncontrollably, painful pleasure taken forcibly from her core, but any sounds she makes are stuck in her chest with the slow, methodical drag of Aemond in her mouth.

 Aemond smirks when her body shudders with overstimulation, more sounds muffled in her chest, giving her some reprieve when he pulls his fingers free and her body sags once again against the bed. Not a moment later, Aemond pushes his hips flush against her face, his seed painting the walls of her throat with a shuddered moan. He feels her gag a bit, still with his cock in her mouth, but he enjoys the slight friction it gives him.

 He stays seated in her mouth for a moment, his hand running through her hair.

“You are so good to me” he breathes as he comes down from the high.

 She felt the warmth slide down her throat, the proof of his twisted, sick attraction to her.

 And when Aemond pulled her up, to kiss her on her lips, she wanted to weep. It was too sacred. A kiss. Something that should be done before all the things he had done to her. Something to bind a love, a marriage. A respect for one another.

But he had kissed her so fiercely, to taste himself on her mouth, and she had known then there was no love. No care. No respect.

 “You won’t leave me now, will you? Sweet girl…”

There were few things in her life that were consistent up to now.

 But her moon's blood had always, always arrived on time.

 No matter how many times she willed it to come, stepping into the privy multiple times a day to find her hand completely dry, void of the usual slick of red, it would not come.

 Just the other night, Alanna had furrowed her brows and mentioned that she had not borrowed her red petticoat for a while and asked if she was feeling okay.

 That was when that hurtling drop of panic erupted in her gut.

 She didn’t understand at the time, what Princess Helaena had said. And she thought of how foolish and stupid she’d felt.

 Cold Tansy.

 The womb quickens.

 Tansy tea. In other words.

 Moon Tea.

 The liquid that so many women used and still used…had to be prepared with a flame before consumption. Had to be brewed fresh.

 She felt dizzy.

 She hid in the privy, so unbearably torn apart by the revelation that she almost made herself sick. Bile rose in her throat but it never came free, and she wretched, her body tearing her apart from the inside. She felt the pain in her womb, the little dragon inside aching to grow, she had felt their flames lick at her spine.

 She tried to muffle her cries with a hand over her mouth, but the hurried sobs inevitably broke free.

 Alanna flung the privy door open and upon seeing the crumpled mess of her bedfellow on the floor, promptly shut it again with both of them inside.

 "Gods…" Alanna whispered, bringing her into a hug, a friendly hand stroking her back.

 If the maidservant hadn't been so upset, she would have laughed. Alanna didn't like to be hugged, or any physical contact at all, even going so far as to lay on the far side of the bed to avoid touching. She found it uncomfortable.

 But right now, it was needed. And the maidservant flung her arms around Alanna, tightening her grip on her as if she was the last person in this realm to be on her side and help. Her hands had clamoured at her back, needing this closeness so badly it hurt. Alanna only shushed her and allowed her to sob.

 "Please…do not tell Hedi…" she begged, with tears still streaming down her face, voice thick with despair. Alanna pulled her face back and sighed, using her thumbs to wipe her cheeks.

 "We have to tell the Quee-"

 "No, I-I need…I need this job. I have to-" she stammers through her weeping, struggling to catch her breath, emotions running higher than they would normally, "-my siblings, th-they need me. They will send me away without my wages and no reference, I-”

 "Shh, shh, alright I will not tell Hedi or the Queen" Alanna cooed, rocking her shoulders softly.

 "Do not tell anyone, please…I-I could not bear it…" she cracks her bleary eyes open, her heart beginning to beat in its normal rhythm again. Her lashes are all stuck together from her tears, cheeks red raw.

 "Who is it, the man? You could not marry?..." Alanna asks carefully.

 It was a nice thought. But one that would never happen.

 She shakes her head, "I cannot say…"

 Alanna sighs, obviously quickly running out of ideas.

 "I can deliver it. I helped my mother when she had my brothers-"

 Everyone would see. Everyone would see you are the Prince’s whore. A child with silver hair.

 "My condition will soon start to show…" she says, resigned. Her hands shake against one another, held as if in prayer to the Gods, "Hedi has such sharp eyes…what am I to do…"

 Alanna was quiet for a long time, trying to wrack her brain for what to do. She knew she could not have the baby, nor could she tell another living soul in the Keep as it would mean she would no longer have a job, no more funds to send to her family and an even smaller chance of a future.

 “Have you any money?” Alanna asks, “there is a woman in Flea Bottom who helps whores when they need it…but…” she says carefully, watching her fellow maidservant’s reaction.

“What are you suggesting?...” she responds with a weak and shaky voice, her grasp on Alanna resting at her arms. Alanna looks visibly pained by the suggestion. Every one of them were devout, pious, to even suggest such a thing as…

 “How much is the procedure…” she asked, making Alanna widen her eyes, surprised that she was considering it.

 “One gold dragon, but it is dangerous-”

 “I cannot afford one gold dragon, ‘tis more than I earn in a year!”

 Alanna sighed, “Whoever the man is, go to him. Appeal to his better nature…he cannot turn you away if he has any decency at all”

 She really appreciated Alanna’s advice, but there was a twisting pain in her gut at what had been suggested. It was something she had heard of women doing before, in desperate times. It could be dangerous. But this woman had done this procedure plenty of times, on women who survived and lived to keep on working.

 There was a chance.

 There was a chance she could keep the job. In servitude still of Aemond, but with the knowledge that she could just drink Moon Tea, prepared correctly, and never have to do this again.

 A future.

 One gold dragon was an incredible amount of money for a common maidservant, well over a year’s wages. It was entirely intentional, gold dragons as a currency was something specifically reserved for the upper classes, and if she was to be found with it…it would arouse suspicion.

 She had to be careful.

 Should she approach Aemond…?

 …How would he react to it?

 Would he dismiss her? Send her to the streets, her and her bastard? Left on the cobblestones to die.

 He cannot turn you away if he has any decency at all.

 Appeal to his better nature.

 It cannot be.

 The words of Princess Helaena were like an incessant bell, echoing around her mind. It was all-encompassing and it took every little bit of strength she had left to not crumble under its weight.

 There was only one problem.

 Aemond was nowhere to be found.

 The Dowager Queen looked out at the skies, darkened and stormy. The rain was loud and oppressive. Thunder and lightning clapping across the sky, sending an intolerable humidity and uncomfortable atmosphere that seemed to sweep about the Keep like a disease. She tugged at the cuffs of her sleeves, opting to fiddle with them instead of destroying herself.

 Her heart was filled with worry.

 Aemond had not returned.

 She waited and waited for what felt like an eternity, not knowing if a day had passed or not. The sun had yet to make its appearance, stuck beneath layers and layers of clouds, towering high above King’s Landing. It was impossible to see a thing. Despair hung so low to the ground that it obscured everything.

 Alicent’s nervous face met the gaze of Ser Criston, who had knocked and walked past the threshold of her chambers.

 “What is it?” she asked nervously, unsure if she wanted the reply.

 Ser Criston stood straight, hands at his side, one perpetually on the handle of his sword at his side, “Prince Aemond has returned”

 She moved swiftly through the Keep, the skirts of her deep green dress in her fists and rushing to find her second son.

 Something was wrong.

 Down the long corridor, Alicent came to a halt halfway, her chocolate brown eyes wide at what she saw. Aemond had rounded the corner, absolutely sodden through his clothes, hair wet and tangled, trying with an annoyed air about him to tear his leather overcoat off his person. A maid followed closely behind, picking them up from where he’d thrown them.

 His eyes were downcast, a stoic expression on his face, which was still covered in drops of rain. His jaw was forever clenched, his lone eye ablaze with fury but also something deep and worrying inside. Shoulders hung on him, as if he had the weight of the world on them.

 “Aemond…” Alicent’s soft voice called to him, hoping to break him from his darkened trance. But he continued on, long legs striding to his one comfortable place. His one haven in the hellhole he had made.

 Her son towered over her as he strode by and she knew something horrible had happened. A mother’s gut feeling never wavers, not once. She knew her boys, in her bones. And she knew Aemond had a temper, but rationales that there was always a reason for it.

 She held his forearm to attempt to calm him. To bring him back.

 Aemond didn’t say a word, huffed and tore his arm away. Not even the soft embrace of his mother could help in what he had done. The sin he had committed. His failure.

 He refused to stop, to explain what he’d done. Everyone would know by the morrow and he need not be there for it, he reasoned.

 Right now, he wanted the safety of his chambers and the warmth and security of being buried inside her. She offered an indifference, a closeness he could not get anywhere else.

 His mother attempted once more to reach out, and without looking at her he roared, as if cornered, “Leave me!”

 He dared not to see the broken and disappointed look on her face, as he knew she would have by the morning. He felt like a child all over again. Weak and feeble. He remembered the way he had crawled to his mother’s arms and found solace.

 But he was not a boy anymore.

 Instead he would find solace the way a man would.

 The way a man should.

 At least as far as Aemond was concerned.

 The little maidservant had jolted noticeably when the chamber doors slammed shut with a force that shook the very stone walls. She held a jug of warm water in her hands, instructed to draw a bath upon Aemond’s arrival, and with the sheer shock of him storming past the threshold had some of it fall onto the stone floor below.

 With parted lips in surprise, her eyes met his form, standing before the now locked and closed doors. He was tall and foreboding, like looking at a wild animal, especially with how uncharacteristically unkempt he looked, with that fierce look in his one eye. His body vibrated with an unseen rage, his chest rising and falling quickly like he had been running. He smelled what she thought was dragon, a musky animal-like smell that clung to his riding leathers.

 He said nothing.

 “Your grace…” she greeted with a quiver to her voice.

 She would never see the internal battle in his mind. The pendulum swinging between kinslayer and dutiful Prince.

 Kinslayer

 Kinslayer.

 She saw him clench his fists until his knuckles were white.

 “Undress me” he commanded, with a low growl.

 She swallowed hard and set the jug aside, brushing her hair that she had unbraided over her shoulder. Daring not to meet his eye, she stepped forward, shaky hands reaching out for his leather doublet, the silver clinking quietly in the chambers. Aemond closed his eye, inhaling deeply when her scent flooded his very being.

 So feminine.

 Weak.

 He was about to drift into the calming waves that her presence offered, floating idly in the depths of her touch when-

 “May I speak plainly, your grace…” she asked meekly once she dropped the leather from his shoulders.

 She had never asked to speak out of turn. Not once. And Aemond opened his eye again, half lidded and looked down at her, his gaze remaining in its stoic manner. But she didn’t meet it, too afraid to, as she folded his doublet over the armchair.

 “Speak then”

 Her hands found one another, fiddling nervously with the skin at her palm, her head lowered.

 “I…wondered if I might request some-”

 “Look at me when you are speaking to me” he interrupted.

 His voice drove fear, deep into her core and she felt the dragon in her womb begin to wake from its slumber. He took her chin in his fingers once more and forced her to look up at him. Her wide, glassy eyes finally met his and she could feel her entire form tremble, and thought, he must be able to feel it too.

 “I wondered if I might request some funds from you” she finally said, in a quiet, mousy manner.

 She had known then. That now wasn’t the time to bring up the subject. But by then it had been too late. His fingers tightened on her chin, to keep her there, to watch him as his brows furrowed in frustration.

 “You said you had sufficient funds”

 He said in an accusatory way. As if her chance before had vanished.

 She inhaled, filling her lungs with the last bit of courage she had.

 Her lips quivered, and the words left her mouth too quickly.

 “I am with child”

 His entire form seemed to go cold, as well as his expression, hooded even further in what she could only assume was anger.

 “You are lying” he dared to accuse, with a firm and ever-tightening grip.

 You wouldn’t lie to me now, would you sweet girl.

 She felt the tears hot in her eyes, entire body shaking. The babe within was hot in her belly at the proximity with their father.

 “I am not” she responded with a quiver to her voice, “I…do not have the funds to…have the procedure…to…”

It was difficult for Aemond at this moment to pin down a specific emotion. So much had happened in the course of a mere few days. For him, for the realm. For the lives of every soul in Westeros it felt like.

 In the morning, everyone would know what he was. A disappointment. Weak. A failure to his family. He would see the sullen look on his mother’s face, when she found out that her entire bloodline was now thrust into danger, on account of what Aemond had done.

 He would lose his place in his mother’s good graces.

 Fathering a bastard. A blatant disregard to his duties as a Prince.

 Just like Aegon had been.

 He could not bear it. To be a kinslayer as well as that.

 He wanted control, something that had been slipping ever so carelessly from his grip since Lucerys was crushed by Vhagar’s jaws. He wanted control of his life.

 Of her.

 And her admission didn’t give him the safety he so craved.

 To think of a bastard in her belly. His bastard. The storms returned to Aemond’s one eye at the thought of even seeing her swell with it. It could not happen. It could never happen. To be reminded of his failures.

 She gasped loud, breath caught in her lungs, as his hand gripped her throat and squeezed. Previously, in the throes of passion, he had squeezed the sides of her neck, so as not to cut off her air entirely. But this time, his grip around her was so tight that his thumb pressed against her pulse point. Her eyes widened, one hand coming to his to pry his hand off her. But he never relented. Not once.

 Ordinarily, a primal part of his brain would adore to see her swell with his child. To see her breasts grow heavy with milk and her stomach taut with his little dragon inside. If she were his wife. If she were highborn, a real lady.

 But she had dared to exist in a moment of Aemond’s most tumultuous times.

 The realm had played a game. Aemond was a loaded cannon and the game was to see which gunner could fire his rage in the right direction.

 And it had been her. Her mere existence as a woman.

 She could feel her head become heavy with the lack of air, her hands clamouring desperately at his to let her free, fear climbing its way up her spine, both at the situation and the look in Aemond’s eye. Calm but with a white hot rage inside.

 He shook her by her neck, “You are mine” he growled at her face, his grip tightening.

 “Until the day you die, you are mine”

 She wished she could die.

 He would never let her go. He would never let her truly live. She would never have a husband. Have children to raise. No ordinary life.

 Gods, take me away, she prayed silently, closing her eyes, as if she felt Aemond might kill her right here and now.

 He pushed her away forcefully, wanting to be rid of her presence as if he could by the click of a finger. Could not bear to see her and her supposed betrayal of his servitude to his family.

 She crumpled to the floor, gasping and coughing, her hand around her neck from where he had grabbed her tightly. The stone floor hit hard on her body, air flooding her head. Aemond, frustrated and wronged, scrambled for the purse on his side table, unknowing and uncaring of the contents. All he knew was there were sufficient funds there.

 He threw it to her crumbled body and watched as she wept on the floor, thinking her pathetic, naive. Weak.

 He huffed and began to unlace his breeches, the only thing now on his mind was a bath, to wash away his sins of the days past.

 “I expect you to return to your duties tomorrow” he said flatly.

 She gasped, choking on her breath as she cried, staring ahead at the purse full of coins.

 “Now leave”

 Not wanting to look at him any longer, she shakily took the purse and held it to her chest. Somehow regaining the use of her weakened legs as she stood to lunge herself towards the doors. Away from him.

 Only when she had regained her breath and strength from the force of her crying, did she look into the bag Aemond had given her.

 Four gold dragons and several silver coins.

 It was more money than she had ever seen in her life. And would likely ever see all at once. She lost her breath at the sight of it, something foreign curling in her gut.

 What she could do with this much money.

 She could leave. Leave this job and go somewhere far. Perhaps even across the Narrow Sea. Away from him, from this life of being his whore. Something for him to release his violent temper upon in the hour of the wolf.

 She held the purse tight to her chest and decided. Made a decision, for the first time in her young life.

 Promised herself that she would have the procedure and flee, far away.

 No more of this, she thought to herself, stroking her sore neck and walking with purpose back to her quarters. For the first time, she’d felt anger at herself, for putting up with the torture for so long. Felt overwhelmed by what the past few days had given her as her fate.

 It cannot be.

Sleep didn’t find her that night.

 A red painted house with the curtains drawn, ask for a woman named ‘Sarria’, is what Alanna had instructed.

 She had kept her hair down and wore a dress she would normally wear to prayer, not her maidservant uniform, not wanting to be recognised as staff for the Red Keep.

 She clutched the purse close to her chest, the coins jingling softly inside with every step she took. It was like he had given her life. A chance. How unfortunate that it had to come from him.

 The air was crisp and it was an overcast day, still so early in the morning that the sun was barely peeking through the narrow alleyways. She had decided to come early, before the market stalls had gone up in Flea Bottom, before the rush of customers would flood the streets. Less chance of being seen entering the home. Perhaps less chance of the Gods knowing what sin she was about to commit.

 But the Gods were everywhere. Could not be caged in as men could.

 After a moment of deliberation, she knocked on the narrow door, barely wide enough for a man to fit through. The red painted house had their curtains drawn even though it was morning, as Alanna had said, perhaps to hide the sins inside. Like a brothel.

 A woman with greying hair had answered, standing in the doorway but not quite showing her entire body, possibly in a manner of guarding. She had bright blue eyes, framed by wrinkles of her years, and she looked impossibly tired from what she had seen over the course of her life. The older woman had looked upon her with curiosity, seeing such a small delicate thing at her doorstep.

 “What can I do for you, child?” the woman asks in a soft, gravelly voice.

 “I wish to see Sarria” she answered quietly.

 The woman’s face fell into a soft frown, a sad one. And her eyes looked her from head to toe, swallowing thickly.

 “Come in, child, quickly”

 Wracked with anxiety, she stepped across the threshold, greeted by a familiar earthy and minty smell that emanated through the home. It was dark and dank, from years of not seeing the sun. The woman shut the door quickly behind her, placing a bolt across it to lock.

 Rather surprisingly, she took her cloak and folded it over an armchair in a friendly gesture, now finally being able to see her young face.

 She guided her to the opposite side of the house, where the smell of mint was stronger. The kitchen was somewhat dusty, but well used. She saw two stoves, lit, with a pot of something brewing hot on top, with the stench of something akin to mud.

 Moon Tea.

 “You have coin, I assume” the woman says, capturing the maidservant's gaze from the pots. The maidservant inhaled sharply, clutching the purse still, fingers gripping it tightly as if it were the last thing in his world. Reluctantly, she nodded and handed the purse to her with shaky hands.

 The woman eyed the contents, perturbed.

 “Are you a whore?” she asked.

 “Excuse me?...” she asked, not quite sure what she meant. The words of the other maidservants clear as water in her mind.

 “At the brothels” the woman said, to which the maidservant shook her head quickly.

 “No…”

 The woman furrowed her brows, “Only whores receive gold dragons, child. Where did you steal this from?”

 She swallowed thickly at the accusation, “It was gifted to me, I swear…” she answered meekly.

 The woman seemed to consider her answer for a moment, holding the purse in her hand as if weighing it. Humming, she took one gold dragon from it and put it in a pocket inside her apron, reluctantly giving the purse back to the maidservant.

“Tell nobody of this, and if you do, I shall deny ever having seen you. Understood?”

 She nodded in return, too scared stiff at the moment to speak.

 The older woman led her to a back room, separate from the rest of the home. A room with no windows and a wooden dining table in the middle. She watched as the older woman spoke to another, much younger woman, one who had long dark hair, also wearing an apron.

 The younger woman approached her with a solemn look, but a reassuring smile, and took her hand to lead her to sit on the dining table. The table was clearly cut from one large piece of wood and weathered over the years, with a big burn mark in the middle of it.

 “This is my daughter, Cassia” the older woman says, “she will assist you, make sure you are comfortable”

 Both of them were soft spoken, careful. It was like being inside a Sept, it was so quiet. They tiptoed around her, like she was a terrified animal, fleeing at the littlest sound.

 They covered the table lengthways with a blanket and propped some hefty cushions at the top and middle.

 “Lay down” they instructed.

 She felt the first signs of fluttering fear in her gut when she laid her head against the pillow, her hands fisting her dress in nervousness as she laid flat against the table. The older woman adjusted the other pillow beneath her bottom, raising her hips. The maidservant swallowed and flinched when the woman named Cassia began to stroke her hair, whispering ‘relax’.

 But it did nothing to quell the nerves.

 “Bend your knees” the older woman said in a soft tone.

 Reluctantly, she raised her knees, but unconsciously clenched them together in sheer terror.

 “Will there be pain?” the maidservant asked through hurried breaths.

 “There will be some pain and blood. But after that, all will be right again”

 Cassia held one of her hands and she squeezed back tightly, grounding herself to where she lay, memorising the pattern of the beamed roof. Counting from one to ten over and over in her head as a means to calm herself.

 This was freedom. After this, she would never go back.

 She would leave.

 Cassia and her intertwined hands, her pupils shaking as they stared up at the ceiling.

 “Will…you tell me what you’re doing?” she asks, without moving her eyes as the woman gently parts her legs and carefully lifts her skirts.

 The woman was quiet for a moment, “It is best not to know” is all she answered.

 Cassia held a cup of a warm, milky looking liquid to her lips, gesturing for her to finish the cup before the procedure, her other hand stroking her hair.

 “What is it…?”

 “It will dull some of the pain” Cassia’s kind eyes looked down at her. There was that reassuring smile again.

 As she drank the musty liquid, feeling her muscles eventually relax, Cassia gave her a wooden pestle, covered with a rag.

 “In case you need to scream”

 She took it graciously, holding it near her chest tightly.

 The patterned ceiling began to blur, and all she felt was the cold touch of the tool against her insides, travelling impossibly further up inside her. Eyelids heavy and breathing hurried but calm, there was only the uncomfortable feelings of a stranger on her most intimate and forbidden of areas. The milky substance left a film on her tongue, seemingly numb now, as were her limbs from the effect of it.

 All the while, she felt the soft caress of Cassia’s hand in her hair, soothing her.

 Cassia guided the wooden pestle to her mouth.

 Her body tensed when the sharp object was cutting, tearing, something inside her. And she’d bit down harshly, her screaming and crying muffled somewhat by the rags that were tied around it. She could feel the little dragon within her fight back, their flames licking at her insides in desperation. A deep desire to exist.

 It is here she realised what Cassia was actually here for. She was not here for comfort, or to make her feel reassured.

 She was here to hold her down.

 And she did, a solemn look on her face as she refused to look down at the little maidservant in pain.

 She nearly made herself sick with the screaming and crying, praying for the pain to stop. And it didn’t stop, not even when the old woman visibly placed the small, slender knife into a steaming bowl of water, the thick waves of steam lingering to the floor and blood slipping off the blade in ribbons. It was a dull, deep ache, in a new place, somewhere chasmic within. It felt like a hole had been torn open, blood pouring from within.

 It was all she thought about as she felt a familiar sticky red liquid begin to coat her inner thighs.

 A knife, the weapon.

 Cassia took the pestle from her mouth and began to prepare the bandages. The little maidservant stared up at the ceiling, praying in a quiet whisper. For forgiveness. From the Mother, for not allowing her babe to be born. To her own mother, for she’d be disappointed in her eldest daughter, for what she’d done to protect herself and allowing herself into this situation. To her sister, for not being there to protect her, knowing all she does now.

 Knowing truly what men want.

 Carefully, and with a deep, warm thrumming pain in her core, both women sat her up. The maidservant shook excessively, deeply troubled by the experience, and her glassy eyes went everywhere else but their eyes, not wishing to see the judgement in them.

 They pressed a red rag against her, as women do with their moon blood, and kept it there while more bandages were wrapped around her legs and hips to keep it there, to stem the ever heavy bleeding.

 There will be some pain and blood. But after that, all will be right again.

 All will be right again.

 She didn’t forewarn her about the pain in her heart though.

 The two women pulled her skirts down, pressed her cloak to her back and gave her the purse again, and she clutched it tightly. Now that it was done, she would go back, sleep, pack her things and be gone by the next morning.

 “Rest now, child. Heat a brick for the pain” the older woman said.

 And without looking into her eyes, the maidservant nodded, and pulled the hood over her head, “thank you…”

 Should she thank them for such a sin?

 Her vision never quite returned to normal the entire journey back to the Keep, and several times she had caught herself from tripping over herself. It felt as if every single pair of eyes that walked through Flea Bottom were trained on her, as if knowing all the dark, sinful things she had done, walking around her in silent judgement that was reserved for women only.

 The pain in her core seemed to dull as she walked through the Keep, quickly making for her quarters. Alanna was at the front door before she could open it, having just finished her night shift, with wide eyes, looking about her form, but settling on her pale expression.

 “Prince Aemond has requested y-” she starts.

 No more.

 “Tell him I am not well” she replied flatly, softly pushing past Alanna into her quarters and shedding the layers of her clothes, the call of her bed and the sheets too great to refuse, “I have been ordered to rest”

 Alanna swallowed, “I shall take your shift, for today only”. It was clear Alanna has no desire to do it, for he frightened the other maidservants significantly.

 If only she knew.

 They lock eyes for a moment and Alanna can see the utter exhaustion behind her eyes. She squeezes both her hands, giving her some semblance of comfort and the little maidservant wonders at all if she should tell Alanna about her plans.

To leave this wretched place once and for all.

 “Thank you, you are a good and kind friend…” she replied with a shaky voice, giving a sad, reassuring smile to her fellow maidservant. Alanna gave one back and immediately put her apron back on, leaving the little maidservant to herself in the quarters to recuperate.

 She placed the heated brick beneath her mattress and shed her clothes down to her chemise, the front slightly tainted with a patch of blood where she had begun to leak through. So she placed some dark blankets against the sheets and placed herself finally in her bed, pulling the linen up to her chest and allowing herself to sink into it.

 Hot tears began to pool in her eyes at the thought of what she had done, feeling the evidence of it sliding in warm blood out of her. She thought of her family and how she longed to see them again, hoped that her little brother was alright and recovering.

 This was freedom, this choice she had made.

 And she thought of where she might go. Somewhere where the sun shines all the time, where the clouds are light and fluffy, where she can feel the sea breeze against her skin.

 Somewhere away from him. Where he could not find her. Torture her.

 Sighing happily at the thought, she sank further into the mattress, closing her eyes to rest off the uncomfortable ache and drained emotions of the day she had so far.

 Sleep, the calling.

 She felt her heartbeat softly in her chest, calmed. And her breath, slow and relaxed. Felt the warmth of the brick beneath the mattress soothe her and the soft hand of sleep curling around her body to take her. It felt like floating into nothingness, airy and free.

 Her name.

 Someone was calling her name, somewhere.

 Her eyelashes fluttered at the sound.

 “Mother…”

 Grief breeds grief.

General Aemond Taglist: @risefallrise @valeskafics

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[targaryenrealnessdarling]

No Pain, No Gain | Part 3 |PersonalTrainer!Aemond x fem! reader

A/N: you guys are absolutely feral for this and I love it, thank you legitimately for all the love. Once again 😘 @ewanmitchellcrumbs ​, hope you luv uwu

Series Masterlist

warnings:  EVENTUAL SMUT, 18+, sexual tension, binge eating, mentions of breakup, cursing, dickhead Aemond, reader is horny af, English slang (soz), warnings will be added when needed

When Baela messaged you with this screenshot.

   You thought, hell fucking yes.

 What better way to take your mind off thinking about your personal trainer’s dick, undo about an hour’s worth of cardio and feel like shit afterwards?

 2 for 1 cocktails.

 Storm’s End was pretty popular so Baela, being the legend she is, booked for four of you to go. Baela, her twin, Rhaena, you and a mutual friend from university, Maris Baratheon. Her Uncle owned the pub/club so she used her connections to get a further 50% off on friends and family discounts.

 God it was going to be a long night.

 After getting ready in the living room, Rhaena absolutely hogging the Spotify playlist, all three of you buzzed on a glass of Prosecco hobble to Storm’s End.

 “Rhaena, take those stupid shoes off” you nudge her shoulder a bit, which takes her off balance. She’s wearing heels that are far too big and far too high for her. Tottling around like a newborn giraffe.

 She yelps a bit but glares at you, “At least I’m taller than you now, short-ass”

 Hand on heart, you feign offense, “Who put 50p in you?”

 Baela nudges you from your other shoulder, “Children, stop it”

 Maris pipes up from behind, playfully squeezing your butt, “Where did you get this from?”

 “Ow! Maris!”

 Rhaena laughs, “Our creepy cousin is giving her personal training”

 “Hey, you” Baela glares at her twin, “He’s not ‘creepy’, just misunderstood. And be nice, his dad just died!”

 “Oh yeah cos everyone loved Viserys” Rhaena mused.

 You give an awkward look to Maris as you enter Storm’s End, giving a name as they lead you to a booked table.

 “He didn’t seem that bothered about it” you shrug as you huff off your coat.

 Maris, sat next to you in the booth, hangs her jaw open, “Fuck you, look at these!” she says squeezing your biceps, “I’m jealous I don’t get to see you in the bikini”

 Rhaena snorts, “Maris, your bisexual is showing”

 “Sorry, sorry”

 You must admit that when you were getting ready to go out with the girls tonight, you’d made the effort. The black cocktail dress hanging in the back of your wardrobe, that probably hasn’t been touched since the graduation party a few years ago, looked tempting. So imagine your surprise to find that it still fit, snug in all the right places. It wasn’t quite warm enough to go out in just that, so you pulled a coat over it. Even here, in the darkened part of Storm’s End, a sort of anxiety prickled at you at how low cut it was. You were usually not so brave.

 It had been a while since Maris came to visit all of you, so the drinks came easily. And effectively being as cheap as water, it was easy to put all the cocktails away. One particular cocktail had you constantly sneezing from the ginger in it, but you were nicely drunk now, engaged in conversation.

 Maris was swooning over a girl she’d met on a night out.

 “You know when you see a woman and you’re just like ‘yes’ she is perfect” Maris swoons, slurring her words.

 Almost in unison you all say, “No”

 “Maris, we are hetero beyond hetero” you laugh, sipping the cocktail and leaning against Baela on your other side. She leans in as well, partially, if not more drunk than you right now.

 “Okay fine, I’m not having this conversation with you virgins”

 “Whoa whoa whoa! Who said virgin?” Rhaena furrows her brows, angry and you genuinely have to hold back a laugh with how loud she’s being as several people turn around, hearing what she’s said.

 “Rhaena, I am willing to bet yours has grown back it’s been so long”

 “Nuh-uh” you point to yourself, head wavy from all the drinks, “that’s me~”

 Maris orders more, “Didn’t you and what’s-his-face break up like two months ago?”

 “Yesss, but we didn’t have sex for ages before that. So if anything it’s me who’s the sad little virgin of the group” you say, polishing off your cocktail to go in for another.

 Baela snorts, “At least until she gets a mouthful of Aemond”

 You almost spit out your drink, glaring at Baela. The alcohol has made you more…morally loose, yes. But you didn’t expect Baela to say that.

 “What the fuck Baela!”

 “Oh come on, she’s been cracking out the vibrator everytime I even say his name”

 Maris sees your bright red face, “Don’t” you warn.

 “Oh my god, as if you have a thing for creepy Aemond?!”

 You raise your eyebrows, “Okay, describe him”

 “Tall, lanky, skinny…I guess?”

 Stalking time.

 You raise a finger, putting your cocktail down to get your phone. You quickly bring up his instagram and show her the one photo where his whole body is in shot.

 Pretty much as soon as the screen lights her face, her jaw drops.

 “Oh my god”

 “Can you two please stop thirsting over our cousin, please” Rhaena rolls her eyes,

 Maris zooms in, “Hold on, I want to see what all the fuss is about”

 She zooms in, really taking him in and the both of you fawn over the photo for a bit too long. Describing everything. His legs, arms that poke out of the shirt he’s wearing with veins. Ugh. His neck, his chest, his shoulders. How tall and broad he is. Just everything.

 “Would you not let that man destroy you?” you ask Maris, snatching your phone out her hand,

In your drunken haze, you freeze as your finger slips and double-taps the screen, liking the photo.

 “Oh shit”

 Rhaena raises her eyebrows, “what”

 “I just fucking liked the photo” you drop the phone and put your head in your hands, vision spinning from the alcohol as well as the embarrassment.

 The girls erupt in laughter, which isn’t helping.

 You find the courage to look and see that the photo is a good ten or so months old. And the little dot next to his profile shows he’s suddenly active. He’s definitely noticed.

 Fuckfuckfuck.

 “Hey, you never know, it might be a good ‘in’ to get him to bang you”  Maris chimes.

 You’ve never felt more embarrassed in your life. And yet, you can’t help your mind wander at the possibility of it.

 Would he?

 He was pretty handsy last time.

 But he’s a personal trainer, surely it’s wrong for you to pay him and bang him when he’s on the job.

 No you can’t.

 You can’t imagine…him bare chested pressed against you, hot, sticky and sweaty from the efforts, broad shoulders closing you into the mattress, large hands splayed across your waist, teeth biting at your neck, prying your thighs apart, rutting into yo-

 “Hello! Earth to y/n!”

 Fuck, you’ve got to stop doing this.

 “Do us all a favour and fuck him” Maris muses, “You’re like in heat or something”

 Despite the embarrassment of it all, the night continues on and Baela is far too drunk to carry on. So being the good friend you were and mother of the group, you pull her hand around your shoulder and escort her home. She’s wobbly at best and seems to laugh at the smallest thing, and even though you’re drunk as well, the situation earlier sobered you up considerably.

 “I have a headahceee….” Baela moans.

 “I heard you the first three times you said it”

 “Can we get some painkillers, we don’t have any hic back at the flat..”

 With an annoyed groan you drag her into the nearest corner shop, it’s close-ish to home, so hopefully she swallows the painkillers, shuts the fuck up and you can tuck her in on the sofa.

 She waits at the entrance while you pay, talking absent-mindedly to a stranger.

 “Baela, don’t talk to strangers please” you say as you shove the box of painkillers in her hand. The man she’s talking to smirks amused at the situation.

 “This isn’t a stranger, it’s my other cousin!” she says, her drunkenness making her far too loud.

 “Oh yeah?” you crack open the bottle of water you bought, taking a swig before passing to Baela, “Is that true?” you ask the other man.

 It could be true. He’s got platinum hair, a smile that spells trouble and that weird cockiness all Targaryen men seem to have. He gives you a bit of a wink, shoving his hands into his pockets.

 “Unfortunately, yes. Aegon” he extends his hand and you tentatively shake it, still a bit weary. He looks at you like he already knows you, it’s very weird.

 “Yeah that sound like a Targaryen name”

 “He’s Aemond’s older brother” Baela says while taking a sip of water, accidentally letting it fall over her face and down her neck,

 “Unfortunately, also yes” Aegon smirks, “She looks a bit worse for wear”

 “We can thank Storm’s End 2 for 1 cocktails for that, can’t we Bae?” you smile, hooking an arm around her waist to steady her, she just grunts in response, “what are you doing here anyway?” you ask Aegon as he’s now found some interest in walking alongside you both.

 He shrugs, “Just came out to get a few bits, do you guys want a lift home? Aemond’s parked around the corner”

 “Yeah actu-” your mind works before your mouth does and your face pales a bit, embarrassment working its way into your belly.

 Baela has that stupid fucking smirk on her face again, wide and giddy like a child, “Yes please! Y/n, this is your chance to get Aemond to ram-”

 “Enough of that” you warn sternly, slapping a hand over mouth, but Aegon gives an amused grin, seemingly catching onto the subject of the conversation, “We’re fine getting home thanks”

 “Don’t be stubborn, come on” Aegon says, helping Baela down the road.

 A gnawing embarrassment curls in your gut. The last thing you want is to see him. And this is reinforced when you round the corner and Aemond is in the driver’s seat, looking up when he sees three figures. His eyes dart between Aegon and Baela for a moment before landing firmly on you, shamelessly looking down and then back up again.

 You take a deep breath. Don’t look at him. Don’t look at him.

 Try as you might, you make for the back seat, but with a shit-eating grin, Aegon makes it there first, under the guise of helping Baela in the backseat and making sure she’s okay. And you want lightning to strike him down right now with how fucking smug he looks.

 A family trait, you see.

 With an annoyed huff and without looking at the smug blonde in the driver’s seat, you get in the passenger seat, quickly pulling the seatbelt around you. Aemond doesn’t say anything either, one hand on the steering wheel and the other on his thigh.

 Oh God, his thighs.

 Stopstopstop.

 You can almost see in your peripheral the way he’s smirking to himself, thinking it’s all very amusing.

 “Aem!” Baela shrieks drunkenly from the backseat, luckily cutting the already existing tension, “Where did you come from?”

 Aem chuckles lowly and it might be the first proper time you’ve heard him laugh, he turns to his cousin in the back seat, “I could ask you the same thing”

 “I found them in the shop, what was it, Storm’s End 2 for 1 cocktails?” Aegon laughs.

 Aemond huffs a laugh in response, raising an eyebrow in your direction, “Training going well then?”

 You only have to turn your head a little to face him and when you do, you regret it immediately. In the proximity of the car, with you in the front seat, it’s achingly close. You try to muster up an indifferent look.

 “Don’t live in the gym like you do”

 He smirks, poking his cheek with his tongue, and turns back to the road, putting the car in gear to drive off. And now his gaze is averted, you briefly let your eyes go over him. It was only fair, he did the same to you. And you turn away quickly with a sigh when you see he’s wearing fucking dark grey sweatpants. All those thoughts return at breakneck speed, the sinful, lustful ones you only think of when you’re alone with your vibrator and it makes you squeeze your thighs together harshly, and you swear you see a flicker of Aemond’s head move in your direction when you do it. Not that he shows it on his face.

 Aegon’s playlist is in full swing and it’s not a long car journey, but it certainly fucking feels like it.

 You’re just thankful that Baela is quietly drunk in the backseat, half asleep, so she can’t say anything incriminating about the desires you’d divulged in female confidence.

 “Stop the car” Baela says hurriedly, undoing her seatbelt.

 Aemond brakes, looking back at her in the rearview mirror.

 “Oh shit” Aegon curses as Baela gets out the car like a bat out of hell to run behind the closest tree, halfway across the park. Aegon follows with the bottle of water you’d bought her.

 In any other situation, you’d be glad to have a borderline sick and vomiting Baela out of the car. But right now, left alone with Aemond after the sheer stupidity of the night so far, you want her to come back as soon as possible.

 Aemond sighs, at least glad Baela had the decency to get out of the car before being sick. He reaches for the gearstick to move the car out of the way of the middle of the road. And the smug bastard completely misses and his large hand makes contact with your knee instead. You can do nothing but gasp when he does it.

 “Sorry” he murmurs without moving his hand.

 When you look at him, he stays eerily still, his eyes flitting across your face to take in the dazed, stunned and impassioned look on your face. Your mouth seems to go dry, brain made of cotton, desperately trying to come up with something to say, but failing.

 Aemond withdraws his hand back to the gearstick, but not before giving the flesh above your knee a firm squeeze, burning his touch into them, leaving behind prickling heat on your skin. Seeing that you’ve been caught staring at him for too long, you flick back, pushing your legs together impossibly tighter.

 He seems to delight in the reaction.

 “Have fun on instagram earlier?”

 Oh fuck my life.

 You turn to him, embarrassed, but his eyes are on the road just as Aegon and Baela get back in the car with a few rough and tumbles. You hate how easy it is for him to get a rise out of you like this, so you turn away and just watch the night life go by as Aemond drives the 5 minute route back to your flat.

 Almost as soon as he pulls up, Aegon’s helping Baela out and you follow, just about to shut the passenger side door when-

 “See you at our session tomorrow” Aemond muses smugly. His eyes glimmering with mischief.

 Not knowing what to say and far too horny to even form a thought, you take Baela back into your arms and make for the flat, but not before looking over your shoulder to see Aemond’s dark gaze over the steering wheel.

 Once in the flat, Baela collapses on the sofa, murmuring incoherently. Like a good mother, you put a glass of water and painkillers on the side table, pulling the blanket over her.

“Did you get railed?...” Baela groans, to which you bite your lip.

“No Baela”

 With a disappointed groan, she turns and almost instantly falls asleep, aided by the dizzying effect of the alcohol creeping in. You smile at her, she’s always been like this when she’s drunk. Always the wingman. Or wingwoman, you supposed.

 Halfway through taking off your makeup, your phone pings with a notification.

Absolute.

Bastard.

You wake up the next day shockingly kind of okay. Baela on the other hand is milking this for all it’s worth. Being a Saturday, you supposed she’s allowed some time to recover.

 But when you use the blender to make a smoothie, she groans, “Are you doing this on purpose...” she groans, with a wet cloth on her forehead.

 Forcing the urge to laugh at her away, “Sorry hun”

 She lifts the cloth to glare at you, “Why are you in gym gear, it’s Saturday”

 Your mind races a bit, a blush making its way up your neck and a familiar heat pooling in your stomach.

 “Last session today before the holiday” you say, leaning against the counter to sip the smoothie, “only day free was Saturday”

 Baela pulls a face, as if amused.

 “What”

“Nothing”

 You scoff, “Fuck you, I told you all that under the influence, it doesn’t count”

 “Oh yes it does~”

 She goes on and on and on it feels like, about how badly you said you wanted Aemond to destroy you last night. She seemingly doesn’t remember the finer details about how you got home. You wished you could forget. You can still feel the way his hand gripped your leg so tightly, the bare skin prickling up.

 Ping.

The dreaded ring of a notification. And it’s like he can fucking sense when people are talking about him.

   Dramatically, you flop on the sofa, showing Baela the text.

 “I don’t know how many more signs you need” she reaches for her go to hangover cure, the biggest bar of chocolate you’ve ever seen and a diet pepsi, “I don’t want to hear anything about it, if you do though because that’s gross. Tell Maris or something”

 “Nothing is going to happen”

 “Uh huh, whatever you say hoe”

 With even Baela’s belief in you dwindling by the second, with a heaving sigh you manage to plop into your car, prop your phone on the mount for directions to the address Aemond sent you and drive. Something curls in your gut all the way there. Nerves? Excitement? Nausea? Was it the Indian food…

 You know the answer already but it doesn’t make it any better.

 The car that picked you up with Baela the previous day is parked on a driveway, a black Mercedes.

 Twat.

 With a breath to stable yourself, you trudge with your gym bag to the front door. The front garden is curiously and meticulously tidy, grass mowed and in general looked beautiful. A stark contrast, you think, to the guy inside. For a moment, you honestly think why the hell you’re here. Or maybe it’s just scary how easy it was for you to just…go with it and come to his house.

 He appears in the doorway mere seconds after you press the doorbell, making you think he had seen your car pull up, but this notion is quickly dashed when you see him. He leans against the doorframe on his forearm, having to look down at you with a bottle of something in one hand.

 “Didn’t get lost then” he says with a smug smile. The embarrassment and those thoughts that were loud the night before come back at breakneck speed, making the heat flood your cheeks uncontrollably. You just hope that he doesn’t see it, but by the amused look on his face, he totally does.

 You roll your eyes a bit and his smile seems to drop for a second. He removes his arm from the doorframe, your eyes drag over what he’s wearing briefly. It’s not the black shirt he usually has on, but a grey one with patches of dark  at the neckline and middle, you surmise he’s probably already been working out before you got here. The image of his taut stomach sticking to his grey shirt will forever be seared into your memory.

 Walking through his home is like walking through a show-home, as in, it doesn’t look like it’s been lived in. It’s weirdly pristine, smells like air freshener and detergent. And as you follow him to the back of the house, where you assume the home gym is, you can’t help but stare at the dark grey patch in the middle of his back and the way his shoulders move when he takes a drink.

 There’s some stairs that lead down and you quirk a brow, “a basement gym?”

 He stops at the stairs, looking up, his eyes somewhere else before he meets yours. His hair is up in a bun again, like the first time, with stray pieces falling out, “Yes?”

 “How very serial killer of you” you muse, following him down the stairs, “Should I share my location with someone”

 He huffs a laugh, opening the door and leading you inside with the smallest of touches to the small of your back, “Unless you want to”

 Even the borderline ghostly touch against the small of your back through your coat is enough to make your brain feel like it’s mush.

 What if he’d ventured down, using his large hand to squeeze your flesh between his fingers? Moulding the skin to shape of his palms?

 “Drink?” he asks, strangely more chirpy.

 Pulling off your coat you reply, “No, got my water, thanks”, you try and make your voice as stable as possible.

 His home gym is actually quite big, lit by several spotlights since there’s no natural light. It hasn’t got any machines, but several weights and sit up benches, perhaps he brings some clients here sometimes? Your body shudders inconsolably at the thought of being laid on the sit up benches, flat with him looming over.

 He’s filling up his own water bottle from the cooler in the corner, back to you, “So what were you doing on instagram?” he asks, and you think you can hear the smile on his face.

 Taking advantage of him not looking your way, you adjust your sports bra. It’s a different set this time, since the other is in the wash, a dark rusty orange two-piece. He turns just as you’re pulling your hair up into a bun, eyes hooded and trained on you before briefly flitting across the new outfit.

 “Stalking your creepy profile” you answer, disinterested.

 He raises an eyebrow, “Creepy?”

 “That’s what Rhaena said”

 “Ah” he responds, “she would”

 “Why’s that?”

 He motions loosely to his eye that you supposed he was blind in, “Freaks people out”

 You furrow your brows, “Why would it freak people out?”. You ask it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world and he’s quiet for a moment, tapping his fingers against his water bottle in thought.

 “Does it not freak you out?”

 You shake your head softly, “No”

 He doesn’t take his eyes off you when he takes a sip of water and it makes your thighs feel somewhat like jelly.

 “Right, stretches”

 Oh boy.

 It’s almost as bad as the first time you’ve done them together, except he’s extra handsy, smirking with the knowledge that you were talking about him in your spare time. This time, when you’re doing the 60 second planks on the mat, his hand stays there on your back, moving every now and then slowly between your shoulders, to the nape of your neck. And there’s no mirror in his home gym, so you’re only hoping and praying that he’s not taking this opportunity to look at you in the skin tight leggings too closely.

 Although secretly, you kind of hope he is.

 “That’s it...” he praises lowly, and it takes you so off guard that you think you might just crack. But you resort to just biting your lip, trapping the skin between your teeth painfully.

 Squats are genuinely no better. He stays behind you the entire time, achingly close with his hands on his hips and everytime you go down to do one, you can’t help the desperate thrum of anticipation in your belly as you make contact only very slightly with his leg.

 Once you’re done with stretching and core, with the lack of windows in the room you’re in, it’s very hot and you wipe your forehead a little, slightly out of breath as you take a sip of water. Feeling as if you are being watched you turn your head slightly and see him sat on the sit-up bench watching you intensely.

 “Shit” you curse as some water leaks out of the bottle onto your chest and right down your sports bra. You try and wipe it away quickly, your chest already glistening with sweat. But when you look up, you see his eyes quickly flit from there to your eyes, darkened. One of his thighs jitters as he bounces his leg, as if aggravated.

 “Sorry” you breathe, grounding yourself, “what next” you ask, desperately trying to lighten the tension.

 “Bench press” he responds, and there’s that same tone he used last time. The tone that he used after literally scaring your ex away. But you swallow thickly and nod and sit where he once was.

 He explains how to do it and you take it all in a bit until you realise he’s going to be standing right behind you and your cheeks flood with heat again, tingling down the back of your neck. He just stands there as he usually does, but from this angle (and it’s very difficult to not look at this point) your head is right at his waistline and had there not been 30kg combined in your arms right now, you probably would have given more of a reaction to it.

 But you do your reps, with him watching in silence, seeing you break a sweat. As far as you are aware, his eyes forever on your form, but really it’s zoned in on that shadow that disappears down your sports bra and at the exposed bit of midriff beneath that to your leggings.

 As you’re doing the last few, he rounds the side and places his hand flat on your ribs, right under your sports bra’s hem and you freeze, an involuntary gasp escapes.

 When you meet eyes, he’s already regarding you.

 “Relax”

 Licking your lips nervously, you nod and breathe in and out deeply. But he never takes his hand off you, almost making sure you’re doing what he says.

 The next few reps are probably the most difficult. Never being able to stop thinking about his fingers on your bare skin, his thumbs drawing very very small circles on the hot flesh there. The air feels charged, as if one wrong move could ignite something, like striking a flame near gas.

 He moves his hand lower to your abdomen, making you freeze and look at him again. There’s no smug smile on his face, just a hooded, promiscuous expression, one that makes a deep, blurry thrum right where his hand is.

 “Push here”

 You try and do as he says for the last few, but it’s hard with the way he’s staring at you. And when you let out a huff and put the weights back where they belong on the rack, he nods slightly.

 “Good girl”

 He sees the way your face flushes this time, but makes no comment on it. Instead he rights himself to stand, extending his toned arm to you to help you up, not breaking the intensity of his look.

 It really does happen too quickly to know who did it. All you remember is taking his hand to pull yourself up. The next. Both his hands are around your waist, nearly encompassing them with how big they are, and the way they slide against your glistening skin rouses you in places you didn’t even know existed.

 There’s not even time to say anything when he locks his lips with yours, pushing you harshly against the wall with a thud that makes you gasp into his hot mouth. It’s messy, chaotic, a clashing of desperate lips and when he brushes your lower lip with his tongue it’s embarrassing how good it feels. He pushes you against the wall so harshly by your waist that you think he’s trying to embed you into it, hands clasped tightly around you in frustration, his fingertips creating marks where they are fixed.

 Amongst all this, he presses his firm, lithe body against yours and you let out the quietest of moans with the realisation that he is desperately hard beneath the sweatpants he’s wearing, pressing it into your thigh.

 “Fuck…” he breathes as his hand snakes up your front to take hold of your jaw, kissing with such need that it almost feels like too much.

 All this time your hands have had no idea what to do, but one slides to the nape of his neck, gripping harshly and completely destroying the style his hair had been in. The other runs over the slick skin of his forearm, tracing the veins there, and how they seem to thrum with every beat of his heart, faster with the desire that courses through them.

 “Fucking perfect…”

 Words fail you at this point, his fingers digging into the sides of your face make you realise he’s keeping you right where he wants you, attacking your mouth with his in a way that’s not really happened to you before. And that little breathy moan escapes once again when his teeth nip at your lip as he pulls away, immediately dipping to your neck to kiss and suck the delicate skin there, his hips pushing against yours with hunger.

 You wonder what his hands would feel like wrapped around your neck, squeezing gently, or maybe not so gently. If his hands would just go that bit lower…if your hands just dipped beneath the hem of his shirt…down the sweatpants…

 Buzz buzz.

 Snapped out of this hot, heavy trance, Aemond steps back a little and you duck underneath his arm, not daring to look back at him at the fear you might stay and fuck up this entirely professional relationship. You desperately look at your phone, a missed call from Baela.

 But that’s all the excuse you need, you hurriedly pack up your stuff, “S-sorry…I..” you start but with no vocabulary to actually finish. Your core is still spurring with delight with what you’ve just done, taking all the power from your brain.

 Looking back briefly, he looks a bit dishevelled but still ridiculously too good, flushed in the face and his chest gently heaving, and with that ghost of a smile on his face. Not smug this time, to your delight.

 “Um, sorry I have to go…thanks, Aemond” you excuse promptly. Even the very swift walk back to the car is a blur. It’s only when you’re in the driver’s seat, intensely gripping the steering wheel that it all slots into place.

 Your fingers go to your lips and all the places his hands had touched you. They’re on fire. Begging for more. And you feel your breath in your lungs stutter at the memory of it. Aemond stands at his window, watching with acute amusement that you’re still sat there, absolutely dumbstruck by what’s happened.

 Baela pings you in the wake of her missed call.

taglist (sorry if I missed anyone, I’m crap, bold means I couldn’t tag)

@mrsgrwy​ @lovelykhaleesiii​@urmomsgirlfriend1@iiamthehybrid​ @namelesslosers​  @chainsawsangel​ @warmfieldofgrass​ @mynameisbaby9​ @afro-hispwriter​ @tempo-rary-fix​ @toodlesxcuddles @definitelynotsatans​ @svtansdaddyx​ @tssf-imagines​ @darkenchantress​ @vrtualfairy​ @fan-goddess​ @skikikikiikhhjuuh​ @helaenaluvr​ @sarahkimtae​ @blackxisxmyxcolour​ @castellomargot​ @girlwith-thepearlearring​ @julczimozart​ @amazingdisneyfansblog​ @slutforaemond@thedamewithabook@Iiamthehybrid@sahvlren@Whoknows333@cosmoeticss​

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

The Blood is Rare

Summary: Aemond has always loathed his niece, and the feeling is very much mutual | Words: 3.3k | Warnings below the cut!

Warnings: a lot of talk of illegitimacy, hatefucking, dubcon, choking, slight knife play, biting, bitta blood, incest (character is described with strong features), p in v sex, baby trapping?

There was no plate at his spot at the table. No knife to tempt him. He would not break bread with those he could not trust.

Like an animal atop high ground, he sits rigid at the head of the table, on the outside unnervingly calm. But he watches with a keen eye the prey that sits at the other end.

She shares many features with her mother. His whore-sister. Her stubbornness, her determined gaze and the nervous twisting of the rings on each of her fingers into the bargain. 

Had she not the dark brown, near-black shade of waved hair atop her head and bright, clear blue eyes of the former Commander of the City Watch, his niece and his sister would look nearly identical.

Unfortunately, they both shared his hatred for them as well.

He loathed the idea of them all. The birth of one mere brown-haired bastard was enough, and yet there were three of them, sat together in unification, as if to put up defences against the opposite side of the table, dotted with the moonlight-silver of Alicent Hightower’s children.

He smirked at the thought that she came mere hours after Jace. That she was unplanned. Unwanted. And yet here she existed, sitting with her eyes fixed on a flickering candle, trying to drown out the laughs, smiles and the oddity that was all of them all gathered together, enjoying one another’s company.

He knew as well as she did. It was the only thing they had in common. That they could see through this charade.

Aemond wondered if she had always seen it. Understood it. The strife that would happen between them. Perhaps she was a dreamer and could envisage the future before it had even happened.

She was a melancholic, hateful little thing. Born with fire and fury.

He supposed if anything, she was still the daughter of a Targaryen.

Aemond swore she was a witch of sorts. For she must have felt his gaze on her, and her clear eyes were illuminated by the dancing flame as they met him. Her expression unchanged.

His smirk grew that they felt the same about each other.

He was the cunt son of Alicent Hightower.

And she was the Strong bastard of his whore-sister.

Not breaking eye contact, she raised her chin, looking down at him over her nose, huffing as she turned away to sip from the cup on her small, delicate fingers.

Stuck up cunt.

The atmosphere shifted considerably as Viserys groaned, a frail hand raised to the injured portion of his face, to which Aemond felt a sick sense of delight. The guards swiftly carried him away by each corner of his chair.

And the gap between Rhaenyra and Alicent seemed to push each side away further. Irreparably so.

His niece did not appreciate his tribute to her and her brothers.

Throughout the evening, she had said few words apart from mumbled whispers to Daemon on her right and Luke on her left. But when Aemond stood to speak, he revelled in her undivided attention. In those angry eyes, he saw not only a loathing for him, but a loathing at the truth of what she was.

A loathing that he was right, and she knew it.

She seemed almost as disappointed as her mother when Jace struck him weakly.

And before Daemon could place himself between the warring factions of their family, he watched the Strong Princess march angrily away, her skirts in her hands, flashing a stern glare before she left.

Her eyes were all he could think about, with her face anchored in the firm grip of his fingers.

He thought she was so small and fragile, that he could just squeeze and break her little jaw, her bones clattering between his fingers like pebbles. And yet she still looked at him with such fire, that only one of Targaryen blood would be able to throw.

She looked at him like he was the most loathsome creature she had ever seen.

The passageway Aemond had her cornered into was stifling and suffocating, forcing them to breathe the same humid air in anger. He saw her face redden where he had her in his grasp, her glossy lips slightly parted to breathe.

“I will extend you the courtesy of assuming there is a very good reason why you have your hands on me like this, Uncle.”

He almost wants to laugh right in her face, despite what she said not meaning to be funny. She is so frail, and yet roars so loudly.

“There is.”

Her jaw muscles tighten in frustration, shuffling backwards though there is nowhere to go.

“Then, I dare say your reason will not be good enough.”

Aemond allows his gaze to roam over her face. Up close, she really and truly is the picture of her mother, with her father's unfortunate features to her disadvantage in her colouring.

“I merely wished to see the colour of your eyes, mandianna.”

“To make some cruel jape no less, I am sure.”

He grins at the way she takes a sharp breath when he tugs her face towards him slightly. And he swears he sees the pupils within the clear blue of her eyes widen as he does, and wonders if he is having the same effect swelling at the forbidden place between her thighs.

“You wound me, sweet niece. A man cannot simply appreciate the beauty of a woman? Does there always have to be some cruel intent?”

“With you, there must be.”

He somewhat loosens his grip on her face, fingers trailing down her neck, the glint of her earrings catching his eye. She visibly shivers at his touch there. 

The most venomous expression sits on her face, and she does not miss a beat. Too clever and witty for her own good.

“Do not insult my intelligence, Uncle. I know what depraved thoughts bat around inside your head, and they are not original. A family trait perhaps.”

He hums, more amused than curious, but perhaps with a smattering of both, “And what of you?”

Her perfect little lips part to speak before his thumb trails down the column of her throat, long fingers wrapped around her neck to her nape. The threat of what he could do making her go quiet.

“What depraved thoughts bat around in your head, sweet niece?”

Silence wraps around them like a rope, tightening with the fibres cracking against their skin. Hot and suffocating all at once. And all Aemond can hear is the steady rhythm of her breathing, his eye wandering down to the necklace perched on her chest as her lungs erratically suck in air.

“It is treason to question my virtue.”

She swallows as his thumb presses on the centre of her throat, as if testing if she is indeed real.

“It may be treason to question your virtue, but it is not treason to question your honesty,” he replies coolly. Aemond can feel her pulse fluttering beneath her skin, the barely-contained rage on her face hidden only by a blanket of courtesy, “a maiden does not allow herself to be alone like this with another man.”

Aemond found himself, a man who had sparred with Ser Criston Cole for a large portion of his life, a man who as a child had claimed the largest dragon in the world and a man who had dealt with the burning pain of losing his eye, and the shame that he carried alongside it, was shocked into brief silence when his niece’s small, delicate palm echoed off his cheek.

It was not the force of it that stunned him so, but rather the shock that she had chosen to do it, with his hand around her neck and his frame blocking her escape.

The little dragon had felt threatened and given him a warning clip.

Aemond felt the warmth bloom on his cheek and smirked. She had slapped him on his bad side, where she knew it would sting the most. For a split second, white, hot pain nipped at the temples of his head as he turned back to face her, and saw that look on her face.

That she knew she’d made a mistake, but was too angry or proud to admit it. 

Or perhaps she was both.

Excitement wriggled and rolled in his stomach at the whimper that escaped her lips, using the force of his grip around her tiny throat to force her back, muscles and bones rolling against the stone walls where she was trapped, and those clear, curious eyes darting back at him with distaste. And he was pleased to see, a sprinkling of horror and panic.

“That was a mistake,” he mused, pressing himself closer to her, his hand firm around her throat despite her own attempting to pry them off him. His other hand reached down, shifting her up the cold wall, and gathered her heavy skirts in his palm, and rucked them frustratingly up towards her hip.

He revelled in the terror that crossed her face, a smirk winding its way to his sharp features.

“How exhilarating,” he pondered, “to take something that you are not willing to give.”

“I will scream”.

“Then scream. I will say it was you who seduced me,” he bit back, watching her face and expressions that crossed them, “And who will they believe? The King’s second son or the bastard daughter of a whore?”

He could feel her breath against his face, soothing the spot where she had struck him not a moment before. Aemond blinked slowly at the woman in his grip, apparently attempting to decide for herself whether it was worth the fight.

Or perhaps something else.

Aemond grinned, “like mother like daughter.”

And he enjoyed the fire it stoked in her eyes.

“You will let me go-”

He shook her neck in his grip, as if to make her be quiet. And it seemed to shock and scare her, for she closed her eyes to steel herself, “And then what will you do? Run? Scream? Or will you do something stupid enough to give me an excuse to make everything you’ve ever said about me, truth?”

Her jaw tightened looking at him, feeling cornered, but a strange ache between her thighs.

“You threaten me, Uncle?”

His dagger sliced the very air between them, pressing the tip to the column of her throat where his thumb had branded her not moments before, tracing the shape of her skin. His niece froze, her breath trembling and her head pressed to the wall, as if to try and pull herself feebly away from threat. 

This very dagger was an extension of Aemond himself. As if his hand were still touching her but with a pointed edge. And he wondered if he sliced her skin, even just a little, would she bleed like him?

There was something there in her eyes as he looked between them. Her breath came in shallow gasps. And Aemond was willing to bet that deep down, beneath the demure veil she hides herself behind, peeking through, that she is wet and ready for him between her silky thighs.

“You are clever, dear niece,” he all but whispers, trailing the blade down to the neckline of her dress, the rich fabric yielding to it, “but not as clever as you think you are.”

She swallowed thickly as his blade teased the tied bindings to her dress, playing with the double-tied knots as if they were strings of a lute, and he was playing her easily. He plucked one, and then two, watching her face the entire time.

“You believe yourself a proper little Princess, do you not?” he asks, his voice low, almost feline in nature, his face so close to hers she can make out the stitchings of his eyepatch, “hair decorated with gold. Fingers adorned with rubies. Wrapped in lavish dresses.”

She flinched as he flicked his wrist, severing the second to last tie holding two sides of her gown together.

“But pull one little thread, and you unravel -” his tone deepens, forcing her to listen to every little syllable, his gaze boring into hers, “-and all you are…is a wanton, bastard, whore.”

She attempted to push his body away, but his dagger clattered to the floor, holding her easily by her wrists, near-painfully pressing them to the stone wall behind her. It happened so quickly. Lips, teeth and tongue fought as if in battle, and Aemond held her there for him, pressing his rapidly hardening length against her clothed womanhood, rolling his hips against hers to search for that delicious, forbidden friction.

It did not seem to him that she was fighting him, but rather fighting how he made her feel.

Her lips were velvety, moist and soft as his anchored hers apart to taste her, once having a split second’s worth it was never enough. Every little breath and whimper and he wanted to make them louder, make her submit, a part of him intoxicated by her when  her teeth grazed his bottom lip, and bit on him, only for her tongue to soothe the area afterwards.

Aemond thought of what would happen, if he devoured her wholly, pressed so hard against her that it was difficult to fathom where either of them began and ended.

His lips moved along her jaw. She smelled of whatever oils were combed through her hair. Camomile and something sweet perhaps. Quickly his hand left her wrist to ruck her heavy skirts up to her waist, feeling her shiver at the touch he left behind with the brief touch of his fingertips where no man had touched before. 

“Fight back,” Aemond dared, a mere whisper against her neck where he left his bruise-like mark.

He met her gaze, looking into her bright eyes and allowed his grip on her to slowly relax, waiting to see if she would push away. Scream and run, as she had previously promised. And while her jaw was still tense and eyes aflame with hostility, he swore he saw her pupils dilate.

“Just get on with it.”

The surging heat in his stomach distracted him briefly from acting cocky, his fingers fumbling to untie his breeches while keeping her elevated. And it felt as if his body was thinking before his mind when he looked between them to see her hefty skirts bunched at her hip, and one smooth leg on display, pulling his achingly hard cock free and tucking himself between the soft haven between her thighs. 

She could pretend she desired him not all she liked, but when their gazes met in fire and fury, finding that in all of their fighting and struggling she was soaking wet, Aemond pushed against her entrance until she welcomed him, sliding within her tight, choking walls with a low groan batted against her neck.

She whined at both the intrusion and his tight grip on her thigh, one hand elevating it so that he could begin pushing up brutally into her. Shame rose to her cheeks as she closed her eyes tightly, finding the wet smack of their skin rousing that tightness in her belly.

It was both embarrassing and hateful that she found herself enjoying this, and that she let him first of all. 

And all she could see above her when she opened her eyes was him, his lips parted to breath as if he was holding some beastly form of himself back, his hair spilling like rays of moonlight over his shoulders with every thrust into her weeping cunt and the way his lone eye never strayed from her expression, not for a second.

That is until Aemond felt as if not only he wanted to own her shame and her body, but wanted to show it too, and leaned forward to graze his teeth on the skin that was now exposed by the ever loosening shoulders of her dress, and sink his teeth in to mark her.

The sound that came from her was between a grunt and a moan, as his position changed the angle of his hips and the blunt head of his cock sparking pleasure deep inside her.

“Fucking…hate you…” is all she managed, feeling the top of his canine break the skin just slightly. Her voice clung to that flat, stoic hatred, and she hated that it sounded as if she were about to fall apart.

If it were possible, he increased the intensity of his movements, pushing up into her mercilessly and drawing feminine, soft whines from her mouth. Sounds he wasn't even sure before his niece was capable of making.

“I adore your fire, sweet niece,” he muses lowly, tracing her jaw with his lips, “I adore how much you think you hate me.”

She does hate him, she tries to think. But every thought that appears is swiftly batted away by the incessant rhythm of his cock pistoning in and out of her, the depraved sounds betraying how she truly feels. An internal war Aemond can clearly see.

“Do you like this? Do you like how much I hate you? How much I want to hurt you?”

Yes.

A thought rung in her mind that she wanted him to hurt her more, so that she could just feel something from him aside from the way he stretched her walls around him so deliciously.

The soreness of his girth is something she had not expected to be a problem, a lapse of thought that she will no doubt be paying for the next morning.

But this, this was a core lapse of morals, surely. Allowing him to do this to her.

His fingers dug into the flesh of her thigh, as if pulling her to meet his cock halfway, feeling the way his body shuddered at the closeness of completion evident on his face.

Aemond grinned wolfishly, “You like this. We both know it.”

He thrusted into her so forcefully that she had no choice but to hold onto him, clinging to his leather-clad shoulder tightly when he met her fleshy end, her insides involuntarily squeezing around him in both pain and pleasure.

His hand came to her neck, clamping down experimentally on her windpipe, and groaning deeply at the way her cunt sucked him in as he did. Forcing her chin up so those traitorous blue eyes met his, he grinned.

Hateful little cunt.

Her peak crept up her spine first, feeling as if the sensation was melting her muscles where they sat inside her body. And then her lips parted in a soundless scream, pitifully moving her hips towards his to encourage the feeling to crest until it rushed out of her with a feeble whine, “uncle…”

Not only was the feeling of her quivering, velvety walls enough to convince him, but the way she called him that while he was so deep inside her, threatening for relief, was so erotic it did not feel depraved in the slightest.

But nothing was better than that wide-eyed, colourful expression of panic, distaste, hate and anxiety when he deliberately planted his seed inside of her. Aemond was sure there was no better feeling, bad intentions or no, her blood felt good on him, his teeth and cock alike.

All he could imagine was what dynasty could be created from such a house of revulsion. To watch this hateful little creature swell with his child, a true Targaryen. Only to put on the same stoic, flat expression which he knew was untrue when he'd fuck her again, and again, and again.

What flame flickered under that expression of hers, he wondered. What stone was hidden in the centre of her peachy, soft exterior. A heart, perhaps.

She didn't have to like it, this dance between them. But when he put her down and watched his spend trickle down her thighs, he would have her come to love it.

She existed for this. Whatever it was. He was sure of that.

“Well, little dragon,” he whispered, “the bastard daughter of a whore, with another growing within her?”

She swallowed around his hand as he tugged her face closer to his.

“Or burn with me.”

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