Aegon And Aemond Sharing Their Little Sister Whos Married To Aemond. And Maybe Aegon Married Off For

Aegon and Aemond sharing their little sister who’s married to Aemond. And maybe Aegon married off for an alliance, and when Alicent asks why Aegon has produced no children of his own, he just looks over at Aemond’s kids like “oh I have” lol. And no one can question the legitimacy bc the kids all look similar enough, their fathers are brothers.

Y/n's eye rolled into the back of her head, her body slumped between the two men, mouth open as Aemond fucked her mouth whilst Aegon smacked her behind as he pounded relentlessly into her. Aemond's hand gripped Y/n cheeks as he pushed harder down her throat, their younger sister gagging slightly as tears rushed down her face, strangled moans coming from her as she came for what seemed the hundredth time since they had entered her bed chambers. She felt raw as Aegon came in her again, his and Aemond's cum mixing inside her as he lazily thrust his semi hard cock into her, their cum oozing out from her greedy cunt. Aemond pulled out her mouth, jerked his hand on his cock before nodding at Aegon to move, pushing himself inside her gushing pussy, her body falling limp against the bed as Aegon chuckled at her wrecked state. Aemond following suit quickly, her pussy clenching tightly around him as she cried and begged him for anything and everything she could think of, feeling herself more full than ever. Aemond pulling out and forcing her onto her back, pillows underneath her to keep their cum in her, wanting another child to add to their hoard as they continuously bred her. Drool on her cheeks as she tried to stay awake, her hands out to pull her brothers to her, the two men sitting beside her as they praised her for taking them both so well.

Aegon left Y/n and Aemond's chambers, returning to his own with his wife asleep, groaning at the sight of her in his warm bed, instead choosing to sleep on the sofa bed near the fire. The next morning Alicent once again approached her son, sighing as he sat upon the throne, his eyes on his sister as Aemond kissed her lovingly as the court spoke aimlessly. "Aegon, you have been married now for almost 3 years, you have no heirs. You are king, if you do have any heirs the throne will pass to Aemond's children." Aegon rolled his eyes, sick of this conversation with his mother as he gave the same answer he always gave.

"Either way my children will be on the throne then." Alicent held her head as she turned and left, she was not blind, neither was the court but no one could question Y/n's children, nor who fathered them. They looked so alike, none of them differentiating but with two brothers impregnating her constantly, neither truly knowing whose cum had been the lucky one to cause the baby to grow, instead agreeing the children were all of theirs.

Similar to this

You Can Do It

Aegon II Targaryen x Reader (Daughter of Rhaenyra)

Summary: The twins are born. Aemond isn't by your side, but Aegon is.

Masterlist Serie

I still don't know when I'm going to finish writing chapter 5 but until then I'll leave you with this

Disclaimer: English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes.

"Aegon what are you doing here?" Alicent asked in surprise as the door to your chambers opens and her firstborn entered.

As soon as the king heard the news that your waters had already broken, he ran to your chambers. He didn't know why exactly but something inside him told him that he had to be by your side. And he was glad to listen to that small voice when he saw how the tension in your face softened at the sight of him.

"How are you feeling?" He asked walking up to you.

"I had better days, your grace" you replied with a small smile. It won't matter that you were sweaty and your belly was giant. to Aegon, you still looked beautiful.

You stopped your walk and leaned against the wall. The maester had told you to walk around the room until it was time for your baby to come out.

"My king, the birthing bed is no place for men," the maester said earning a glare from Aegon.

"I am the king and I can be where I please" he replied scathingly "Besides, I came to support my niece in the name of my brother"

Your eyes blinked away the tears that were forming at the mention of Aemond. You had the stupid hope that your husband would return for the birth of his child.

"Aegon, this could go on for hours," Alicent said trying to convince him to leave "I'm sure you have more important things to do"

"I'm sure the council can handle it for a couple of hours" the king affirmed "It doesn't matter, I'll stay by your side until you finish" he promised looking into your eyes.

"Thank you" you whispered thinking for a brief moment to hug him but you didn't.

And neither Alicent nor the maester said they bothered to try again to get the king to leave, not wanting to face his wrath. They were also sure that sooner or later Aegon would leave. Both of them were surprised when he took your hand and started walking with you around the room for over an hour.

Alicent was telling you stories from when your uncles were babies in an attempt to distract you from the pain when at one point you get a contraction so strong it almost makes you fall on the floor, if it wasn't for Aegon catching you. They both helped you get into bed as comfortably as possible. Aegon didn't take his eyes off your face as the maester lifted your nightgown to see if you could start thrusting yet.

"You can push now, princess" the old man announced.

You began to push, crying out in pain as you clung to both Aegon's hand and Alicent's. She looked at her son expecting him at any moment to get up and leave the room. But he never did, he stayed by your side without letting go of your hand, from time to time making a little grimace because of the strength with which you were holding him but he never complained. She noted how Aegon's lavender eyes conveyed pure concern and pain. He looked like he was suffering from seeing you suffer.

"Princess, you must keep pushing," the maester asked when you stopped.

"I can't," you said tiredly "I can't do it" you repeated ignoring the midwives' words of encouragement.

"Y/n, I swear that all this pain will be worth it when you have your baby in your arms," Alicent said brushing the hair from your face.

"No, I can't do it" you repeated shaking your head "They're going to have to cut me open to get the baby out" you panicked and started crying. You were scared, you wanted your mother by your side, you wanted her to tell you that everything would be okay. You didn't want to die yet, you wanted to see your mother and siblings again, you wanted to be there when Aemond came back and met your baby. But right now you didn't think you were capable of giving birth.

Aegon felt his heart break to see you in this state. You looked so hopeless. He couldn't bear to see you like this.

"Hey, hey, look at me, look at me" with his free hand he took your chin making you look at him "No one is going to open you" he promised, giving your hand a light squeeze, it was the only way he could show his support "I know you can do it. Do you hear me? You can do it. You're not alone" he could feel her mother's gaze but he didn't care, the only thing that mattered now was you "You have dragon blood in your veins. You are strong. You will beat the delivery bed "Your breathing calmed down and slowly the tears stopped flowing "Now I want you to push, you can lean on me, smash my hand and scream all you want but I need you to push" he smiled when you nodded.

Alicent couldn't help but be surprised and angry. A part of her was surprised by the softness in her firstborn's voice when speaking to you, she was grateful that he can comfort you but another part was furious with her son for being here, by your side when he was not together with Helaena when Jaehaerys and Jaehaera were born. Aegon was not there to calm his sister's fears.

Then you started to push again, you were sure that your screams should be heard throughout the castle but it didn't matter, today you would give birth. Aegon was right, you have the blood of the dragon and you weren't going to let the birthing bed kill you. You were going to live, you were going to see your baby grow, you'd be on your feet when Aemond got back and you'd introduce him to his child, and the both of you raise him together.

"I can already see the child's head, princess. Keep pushing" asked the maester and you did it. You had to make one last effort and you could already have your baby in your arms.

You kept pushing until you finally heard a cry from the baby. You were so relieved to hear that you let yourself lean against Aegon. He started stroking your back. You closed your eyes for a moment enjoying the sense of security and peace you felt. You smiled when you heard that he was a boy. You were about to ask for it so you could see it when you felt pain again making you groan, earning worried looks from your mother-in-law and brother-in-law.

"Princess, there is still another child" announced the maester surprised.

"Damn it Aemond. When I get back I won't let him touch me again" you said making the king laugh.

"Okay, princess, let's get this over with," Aegon said smiling and you couldn't help but smile back. You should hate him for stealing your mother's throne, but how could you hate him after he was by your side on the birthing bed? It was not his obligation, he was not your husband but he was still here, by your side, supporting you.

A couple more pushes and it didn't take long for another cry to be heard, this one much louder.

"Another boy, princess. Congratulations"

"Thank you all for being with me"

A few minutes later the midwives finished cleaning the children. They gave you one of your babies, Alicent was ready to take the other but the midwife gave it to the king.

Aegon didn't expect it but he took the baby without problems, it's not like it was the first time he had a child in his arms he was a father. He felt a lump begin to form in his throat as he remembered when he first lifted Jaehaerys. He decided to put those thoughts aside so as not to overshadow the happiness of the birth of your children.

"My little Aemon," you said looking tenderly at your son in your arms. You felt your heart full of love. Alicent was right. All the pain was worth seeing how she looked at you "I'm your mom" you smiled and left a kiss on her forehead. You still didn't want to let go but you could see your mother-in-law eager to pick up one of her grandchildren "Meet your grandmother" you gave her the baby.

Alicent was relieved to see that her grandson had Aemond's nose and violet eyes, which were darker than the king's. For a moment she had feared that Aegon's attitude was because they were actually his children.

"And what are you going to call this little guy?" Aegon asked as he rocked the baby. He already loved him, simply for being a part of you.

"Baelon" you replied with a smile feeling warmth seeing how he looked at your son "Now, I didn't want to interrupt your moment with your nephew but I would like to meet my son"

"I'm sorry" the king apologized with red cheeks before passing the boy to you.

"It's okay" you smiled at him before turning your full attention to your baby.

Alicent looked at the three of them and felt nauseated. You looked so happy as you spoke to Baelon and Aegon looked at you with such love, he had never seen that look in his eyes, the three of you quietly seemed like family. She felt sick when she realized her mistake when she denied the commitment between Helaena and Jacaerys and yours with Aegon. She remembered her firstborn complaining that he didn't want to marry his sister but you, that he loved you. She had thought it was a whim but now she could see it. Because only a man who truly loved you could look so happy while you carry another man's child. Any other man would be spiteful and jealous. But Aegon didn't, he loved you so much that he just wanted to see you well.

tag list: @hannaeditzs @multi-fandoms-stuff @zverea @m1tzifa1ry

@solacestyles @lilithskywalker @satish @justsumtuffstuff @crispmarshmallow @daduol @inmyowndefender @afro-hispwriter

@green-lxght @roroswhiterose @libdarkheart @chevelledahuman

@versaillesdrmngs @helloitsshitzulover @ladybug0095 @ietss

@serendippindots @ultraviollett @akinatrix @papery-maniac @merovingianprincess @hnybitches @m1ndbrand @giulia2372

@blubird592 @alexa4040 @noisyinfluencerstrawberry @bajadotcom @woodandwaxwings @idkjj04 @yor72 @mendes-bae

@lj127 @sustisama @imjustboredso @remuslupinwifee @sarcasticking9 @melllinaa @tswiftsthings

 @404slayer404  @letsloveimagines @zillahvathek @alexandra-001 

@hnybitches 

Ok for One year anniversary i've a request!

10+20 from nsfw prompt with Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon/Strong!fem!reader.

(plus: I imagined the scenario in general where reader finds herself arguing with his uncle, and in the throes of indignation or anger she slaps Aemond in the face and leaves him breathless; if this was to somehow defeat him instead it triggers in him a burning lust for his niece and...well I leave the rest to you)

Thank you so much and happy anniversary!!

𝐒𝐨𝐮𝐫

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x (female) Reader

Summary: nsfw prompt 10 ‘for an argument to turn into sex’, & nsfw prompt 20 ‘for angry sex’ | you and Aemond are betrothed, but it doesn’t stop his eyes from wandering elsewhere...

Warnings: minor act of physical violence (face slapping), slightly sexist remarks (calling another woman a ‘whore’), smut, rough / angry sex, kinda slight dub-con for a minute?, penetrative sex (m+f), minors DNI

A/N: okay so I may be alright with it in the show but incest isn’t something I necessarily want to incorporate into my writing so in this fic I’ve not explicitly explained their specific parentage or heritage! the only thing I’ve really made specific for the reader is that they’re from a highborn family in Westeros, one that would be deemed suitable enough to be betrothed to Aemond, so yeah you could make it so the reader is directly related to Aemond or you could imagine it so there is no direct link, it’s up to you guys as you read it! anyways, thank you so much for the request darling, and I really hope you like it!

You were trying to enjoy your engagement banquet, to enjoy the celebration of your betrothal to none other than Aemond Targaryen. But the only emotion that filled you was a cutting fury as you watched your betrothed on the dance floor, his hands roaming all over that Tyrell girl who had come to visit just for this occasion.

Your knuckles were turning white where you gripped your wine cup so tight with anger. Each laugh she threw his way, each smirk he offered her, each time their hands moved even more boldly over each other’s bodies; it all pooled in your chest like a river of lava hot rage, threatening to erupt. 

You and Aemond had grown up together at the Red Keep. And it was safe to say there was no love lost between the two of you, meaning it had been an awful surprise when it was announced that the two of you were to be betrothed. You’d known he had no feelings for you in that way, that were of no interest to him, in that manner anyway. But he could at least not make it so obvious, not rub it in your face as he was so clearly doing now. 

Your vision and your mind had become so blurred with these thoughts that you don’t notice Aemond stalking over to where you sat until he was almost right in front in of you.

“Why so sour, my lady?” Aemond smirks sinisterly just as he swipes a cup off the table, taking a swig of wine. 

You glare at your betrothed, refusing to dignify him with an answer. You could tell by the wicked glint in his eye that he knew what was wrong. He just wanted to taunt you. To make you admit it out loud.

You keep the searing glare in your eyes even as you force a false smile on your lips. It was a smile you knew Aemond would see right through, not that you really cared. You wanted him to know you were angry.

“Nothing, my prince,” you force through gritted teeth, your jaw clenched as you smile blandly.

“Nothing?” He taunts, raising an eyebrow. “Well, then won’t you bless your betrothed with a dance?” He hums wickedly, extending a hand towards you, bowing slightly.

You turn your head away from him, clenching your jaw even tighter and squaring your shoulders.

“It seems you already have a dance partner. There’s no need for me to interrupt,” you sneer back at him, trying to keep the waiver of pain out of your voice.

“Hmm, is that jealousy I detect, princess?” He teases cockily. “That’s not an emotion very befitting of a lady,” he practically purrs.

You stand up hastily, glaring with fire at Aemond. 

“Fuck you. How’s that for befitting a lady?” You hiss. “And I am not jealous,” you add quickly, hoping he wouldn’t catch the warmth creeping into your cheeks.

“You’ve made it perfectly apparent, my dearest betrothed, that you feel nothing for me,” you continue, “I only hope I’ve made it clear that the feeling is mutual,” you lie, your jaw tensing as you attempt to keep back the tears that threatened to spill.

And with that, you spin on your heel and storm out of the main hall. 

You only find sanction alone for a few brief minutes before you hear the heavy wooden doors to your room open behind you. You’re infuriated to see it was no less than Aemond that was stalking into your room. You whip round to face him, not bothering to hide the fury on your face.

“What do you want?” You seethe.

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he just cocks his head to the side and smirks at you, his eye roaming unashamedly over your body. The silence is palpable, broken only by the steady crackle of flames burning in the fireplace. It’s not long before your anger starts to rage inside you again, burning just as hot as the fire beside you, until finally you snap.

“What do you want, Aemond?” You repeat, letting your anger lace the edge of your voice. “Why are you here? Why don’t you go back to the banquet? Back to that Tyrell whore?” You hiss savagely. 

“Ah,” he smiles knowingly, “so you were jealous,” he muses.

“Is it a crime to feel anger over the fact my betrothed so clearly wants to fuck another woman?” You practically shout, your voice going hoarse.

His mouth hardens into a flat line as he looks at you, but he refuses to answer.

“Do you deny it?” Your voice raises to almost a yell.

Flat silence.

“Do you deny it?” You ask again in a breathy whisper, hoping he doesn’t hear the crack in your voice. 

“What if I do?” Aemond suddenly sneers, his eyes narrowing. “What if I do want to fuck her?” He hisses.

Before you can think the better of it your hand reaches up, colliding with Aemond’s cheeks in a sharp slap, the contact stinging the palm of your hand.

Aemond lets out the smallest of surprised gasps as his head swivels to the side with the force of your palm. His mouth hangs open slightly, his lips twisted into a sinister smirk; a smirk that seemed to be simultaneously both shocked and impressed, laced with just a hint of anger and mischief. It was a smirk that sent a shiver down your spine. You straighten your back, tilting your chin upwards defiantly, trying to cover the shock you felt at yourself.

Aemond’s head turns back towards you, menacing in the slow and calculated movement. His eye flicks up to meet yours, the cold blue hue somehow alight with flames. Before you can even formulate your next sentence, his hand is gripping your jaw harshly, his fingers digging painfully into your cheeks as he cups your jaw. His smirk twists into a wicked snarl as he leers down at you.

You look up at him defiantly, trying to cover just how much his words had stung, how deep they’d cut. He laughs darkly as he steps towards you, pressing you backwards until your back hit the stone wall. He pushes in right against you, effectively pinning you to the wall. You raise your hand again in panic, readying to land another blow to his smug face.

But this time Aemond is ready, catching your wrist before your palm can once again make contact with his cheek. He sniggers wickedly as he pins that wrist to the wall above you. Your breath hitches in your throat as he looks down at you, a kind of hunger burning coldly in his blue eye. But you keep your glare on him steady, looking at him rebelliously. He hums cockily again just before he ducks his head and his lips ghost over the skin of your throat. His mouth moves over your neck with a surprising tender gentleness, peppering hot kisses across your flushed skin. His other hand, the one not pining yours to the wall, moves to hold onto your waist, his fingers pressing through the fabric of your dress.

This was not exactly how you thought Aemond would react to being slapped, particularly by you.

“Wh- what are you doing?” You whisper, making a pathetic attempt to push him off you, colliding your chest with his. 

But Aemond holds his ground, refusing to budge. He then kisses his way up your throat and leans his face in close to yours, his nose brushing against your cheek as his lips graze the shell of your ear.

“You say that the feeling is mutual,” he echoes your words from earlier. “That you don’t want me. But I happen to know you’re lying,” he whispers wickedly.

“I am not lying,” you quip.

“Hmm, tell me you don’t want this then,” he challenges, bumping his nose against yours as he now bites your bottom lip gently. 

He kisses you roughly, slamming his lips down on yours. You moan in surprise, earning a satisfied hum from Aemond. His lips move over yours, dominating your mouth, leaving little room for defiance or arguing.

“Tell me you want me stop,” he smirks against your mouth.

His words are a challenge, and you rise to meet the occasion. 

“I don’t want this,” you seethe, biting harshly on his bottom lip now, hard enough to draw blood. “I despise you.”

Aemond staggers for a second, his eye blinking wildly as he brings a finger to his lip, examining the drop of blood that pools there. That godforsaken evil laugh sounds from him again as his gaze flicks back to meet yours, his eye impossibly dark with a wicked lust.

“I don’t believe you,” he sneers before kissing you roughly again.

You gasp a moan in surprise, cursing yourself for letting the sound escape you, especially when you hear Aemond’s smug groan in acknowledgment. He kisses you vehemently, forcing his tongue into your mouth.

“If you really don’t want this...” he drawls against your mouth just as his hand hikes up the fabric of your long skirt, exposing your bare thighs.

His hand then ghosts over the exposed skin of your legs, travelling up until his fingers found the apex of your thighs. An involuntary shiver rolls through your body, another traitorous moan leaving your mouth just as Aemond’s fingers push higher and brush between your folds.

“...if you really do despise me, then why are you so wet for me?” He hums smugly.

You huff indignantly, twisting your face away from him as you feel the warmth of blush creep into your cheeks. He laughs again, his warm breath tickling your skin as he moves to kiss and bite at your neck. Your body writhes as Aemond’s fingers rub between your folds, spreading your wetness and collecting it on his fingers, taunting you as he skims over your clit; enough to tease you without letting you gain any real pleasure.

Anger and frustration bubbles in your chest as he touches you, the smugness practically radiating off his body. You let a smug smile of your own twist your lips as you move your free hand, the one not still pinned to the wall above you, to snake between your bodies. You cup Aemond’s groin, palming him, your smile growing as you feel how hard he is beneath his leather trousers.

“If you really wanted to fuck the Tyrell whore...” you challenge him, mocking his smug tone from before, “...how come you’re so hard for me, hmm?” You smirk up at him, batting your eyelashes with maddening playfulness. 

Aemond glares down at you, his lips twisted in a snarl. He releases your hand that he’d still had pinned against the wall and swiftly moves to cup your jaw again harshly, his fingers digging into your cheeks as he forces you to look at him. You stare back at him defiantly. He glowers at you for a moment before he’s suddenly manhandling you, turning you around until your front is now smashed against the wall.

You barely have time to react before you hear the sound of metal brushing against fabric and feel the cold sting of steel caress your back. You gasp in shock as you realise what’s happened; Aemond had unsheathed his dagger only to cut through the fabric of your dress before he was tugging at the ruined material, yanking it down your body until you were suddenly naked and helpless in front of him. 

He keeps you pinned to the wall; one hand lies flat across your back as he pushes you into the cold stone. His other hand moves to undo the buttons of his leather coat. His hand leaves your back for only a moment as he swiftly shrugs himself free of his garments, leaving his chest bare. You use the moment of freedom to push off from the wall, but Aemond’s hips swiftly drive forward as one hand returns to your back, shoving you roughly back into the wall.

“Uh-uh,” he tuts, “stay still, pet.” 

“Fuck you,” you hiss, causing another sinister laugh to rumble through Aemond.

“Hmm,” you can practically feel his smirk burning into you from behind, “I’m getting there, sweetheart.” 

He now uses his free hand to undo the fastenings of his leather breeches, tugging them down just low enough to free his leaking and throbbing cock. The next thing you know Aemond’s cock is pressing between your thighs, collecting your wetness just before he angles himself and pushes swiftly inside you. You choke out a strangled moan as he sinks as deep as possible inside you, pushing against you until you could feel the cool leather of his breeches against your ass. 

“Fuck,” he exhales sharply as he bottoms out inside you.

He stops only for a second to revel being seated deep inside your tight and wet cunt before he starts fucking you. He gives you no time to adjust, he goes right into a brutal pace, slamming you roughly against the stone wall with each powerful thrust of his hips. Whimpers of surprise and begrudging pleasure fall from your mouth, your fingers curling and scratching at the wall in front of you as you scramble for a grip. Your hands fail to find purchase and eventually you give up, letting one hand lie flat against the stone.

Your other hand reaches up behind you, tangling your fingers in Aemond’s pale blond hair. As you reach up your back arches, pushing your ass out even further, pushing even closer against Aemond’s hips. Your nails scratch at his nape, giving his hair a sharp tug, causing a hiss of pleasure to sound from Aemond.

His hips start to move even faster, crashing against you, fucking impossibly deep with the new angle provided by you arching your back and pushing out your backside. His hands hold onto your hips with an impossibly strong grip, pulling your ass back to meet each of his thrusts. His grip was hard enough you were already sure you’d find bruises there in the morning. 

“Fuck,” Aemond hisses again as he feels you clench involuntarily around him. “So wet, and so fucking tight,” he grunts hotly against your ear. “Making all these pretty noises, just for me,” he murmurs as he bites into your shoulder.

You grunt frustratedly at his cockiness.

“Gods,” you seethe, twisting your head back until you could look at Aemond’s face as he fucked you. “I really fucking hate you,” your voice breaks with a quiver as he hits that sensitive spot inside you.

He hums wickedly as he presses his cheek against yours, your heavy breaths mixing. 

“You don’t hate this cock though, do you princess?” He taunts darkly. “I can feel you clenching. I know you’re close,” he whispers against your ear, catching your earlobe between his teeth lightly.

You moan loudly, threatening to expose your defeat. He was right; you were close. The pleasure had built almost embarrassingly fast inside you. And furthermore, it was also true that you didn’t hate his cock. You didn’t hate the feeling of his cock stretching you so perfectly, making you feel so deliciously full. You didn’t hate it at all. In fact, you almost think you’d never get enough of it. But you certainly weren’t about to his inflate his ego even more by admitting that. 

“Fuck,” you hiss through clenched teeth, “fuck you, Aem- ah- oh- Aemond,” you attempt to quip at him, but your orgasm crashes through you just at that moment, causing your snarky comment to turn into a moan of his name as your body jerks with pleasure. 

“That’s it, princess,” he laughs darkly with a grunt as your cunt clenches over him with each surge of pleasure that your high provides. 

Aemond keeps fucking you even as you squeeze him tightly. His hips snap faster and faster, his groans getting louder and louder, until he finally stills with a noisy grunt in your ear. Your thighs tremble and another sinful moan leaves you as you feel him twitch inside you, warmth flooding you as he releases within your walls. He rocks his hips slowly against you as he draws out your highs, dragging himself almost all the way out before he slips all the way back inside you. An obscene moan rips from you when you feel a wet stickiness slide down the inside of your thighs as Aemond slowly fucks his cum out of you.

After a moment he collapses against you, his chest colliding against your back as you both lean against the wall. His skin is warm and flushed as he lies almost on top of you, covered with a fine layer of sweat. You hate how nice it actually feels to have him so close to you like this, his body connected with yours in almost all the ways possible.

The two of you pant heavily as you try to catch your breathes. Aemond nuzzles against your neck, placing a few kisses across your shoulder. The surprising tenderness of his actions has a warm and fuzzy feeling stir in your stomach. He stays like that for a moment longer, resting against you, before you feel one of his hands snake up your body. His hands travels up your body, tracing over your hip, the curves of your waist, the side of your breast, before his hand finally curls around your neck, his fingers cupping your jaw and turning your head to look behind you until you were facing him. His eyes examine your face, overtly lingering on your lips. 

“You’re mine,” he commands quietly just as he places another searing kiss to your swollen lips, claiming you, once and for all, as his. 

When he pulls away, you’re almost taken aback to see a kind of gentleness in his eye, a softness in his face that you’d never seen from him before. The look stirs more butterflies in your stomach. He suddenly looked so young, so sincere. It made you want to reach out to cradle his face, to kiss every inch of his skin that you could access. It was a look that set alight something inside you. Not jealousy like before, but more like some kind of instinctual protectiveness, like you’d go to war just to keep this look of peace and serenity on his face as he looked at you. 

“You’re mine,” Aemond repeats in a breathless whisper, “Just as I am yours.”

Masterlist

Send a Request for My One Year Anniversary

Taglist // Join My Nightmare Realm // Ko-fi

what do you think aemond would do if reader constantly tease his “hmm” 😭😭

omg i feel like aemond wouldn’t even realize he does it, so when you point it out, he’s just like…?? but he literally can’t stop — it’s just one of his habits. maybe he would get slightly annoyed when you start teasing him for it, but at the same time, he appreciates that you notice his little quirks 😭 it lets him know that you actually pay attention to him! over time, he just remains silent and shoots you a “glare” whenever you taunt him (the stare has no real malice) ♥️

Imagine if the reader is friends with Jace and Luke but also betrothed to Aemond, so when he makes that offensive toast at dinner, reader gets mad and confronts him. She says that if he actually loves her, then he would stop doing those things, which leads to a confession <3

𝐒𝐀𝐘 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐌𝐄

𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭; after a fight-provoking tribute at a family dinner, you ask aemond — your friend and betrothed — where his feelings lie.

𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐬; princess!reader from an unspecified house, fluff, a bit of spice ♡

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞; thank you all for the support! also a big thank you for those who wanted to be tagged :) you keep me going! for anyone who reads this, please reblog and comment with your feedback. i fall in love with everyone who does and it means so much! i appreciate you & be sure to consider following to stay updated ✨

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬; @deeeeexx @cassianas @sweet-andromeda @thedeathofduty @evasgreentea @burningcoffeetimetravel

𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐑 𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐃 𝐀𝐒 𝐀𝐍 𝐀𝐁𝐒𝐎𝐋𝐔𝐓𝐄 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐄.

It started off a bit rocky, to be fair. But then Viserys’ made a plea for peace, begged for the family to heal, and the tension melted like a slab of butter in a warm hand. Everything finally seemed to be falling into place.

Forgiveness was offered. The family was together. Your betrothed was complacent, despite being in the presence of his nephews. Alicent hid her laugh behind a hand, Rhaenyra’s pretty lips were curled into a smile that matched Daemon’s, Jace and Halaena were dancing — it was all perfect. 

You’re not even sure where it went wrong. It just did. 

You are laying in bed now, hours after the eventful gathering. The insomnia you're experiencing is a classic case; Aemond's tribute plays over and over in your head. You aren’t even remembering the crucial details, like what he said or what you ought to have said.

Instead, all you can recall are the expressions on Luke and Jace's faces, the way the lighthearted mood deteriorated, and the clang of your knife on your plate after dropping it in shock. 

You also remember storming out of the room. 

Truthfully, you are embarrassed at your future husband’s behavior. His smirk had been so arrogant that you wanted to meet it with a fist, and you probably would have if you could get away with it. 

You have been betrothed to Aemond for about a moon, and while you were aware of his distaste toward his nephews, you never thought he would disrupt his family as they attempt to repair the rift between them. 

Over a fucking pig. 

Maybe you should have expected it. 

You met Aemond when you were both children, as your father had established a peace treaty with the Targaryens at the beginning of his reign. You saw the boy get taller, watched his jaw sharpen, and stared on as his charm turned into the stern temperament of a man. He learned to ignore the things that do not serve him. 

You knew that Aemond became a person of duty, of justice; he would not let things go that easily. He held a grudge with the incident. Losing his eye. 

Taking that into consideration, this should not have been that big of a surprise.

And Gods, do you still want to marry him. When your father informed you about the betrothal, you were overjoyed, fit to burst, chest suddenly stuffed with the warmth of the sun and a billion ‘what ifs.’ 

Aemond has fascinated you throughout the years; he has always seemed so at ease and still. Unhurried and righteous. He can remain at the fireplace for a considerable amount of time, leaving you to constantly wonder what he might be thinking and how he is able to survive in such solitude.

You love him. Always have, though you are too scared to tell him. Part of you wonders if he shares the same affections. 

But there’s no chance of that, is there? Aemond does not allow himself to experience attraction or establish attachments. There is no changing that. He must have agreed to the proposal because it was the right political choice; there is no other reason why he would have accepted. 

Aemond loving you back? It’s impossible. 

You roll over onto your side and stare at the window that sits across the room, trying to focus on the moonlight drifting through. It takes about thirty seconds of dead silence for you to realize that you might just go insane. You’re literally about to grab an extra pillow and shove it over your face — with the plan of suffocating yourself to sleep — when you hear a knock on your chamber door.

The noise almost makes you jump. For a moment, you consider not answering it, but curiosity refuses to bid you farewell. You crawl out of the sheets and reach for a match on your dresser, flicking it against the wood to conjure a flame. You ignite the oil lamp that sits on your nightstand, the light basking the room in a warm, orange glow.

You are just making your way over to the door when the knock comes again. Straightening out your nightgown and taking a deep breath, you open it. 

Despite the darkness of the stone hallway, you recognize Aemond immediately. 

No, it‘s not just his chiseled face that gives him away, or the long silver hair that drapes over his shoulders. It isn’t the black leather tunic he wears, hugging his lean chest. It is the way he stands: the confident way he waits for you, chin high, strong and assertive. 

He’s too perfect, despite being one of the most imperfect people you know.

“Princess,” Aemond greets. His eye briefly looks you up and down before focusing on your face again. “Green suits you.” 

Your gaze flicks down to your nightgown — made from a beautiful silk and a deep emerald, decorated in golden floral designs. It was a gift from the Queen; even though you and Aemond had not married yet, she happily proposed that you start to wear the family’s house colors. You accepted, of course. 

Aemond’s compliment is so genuine that you don't know how to respond. You feel a sense of pride at his admiration. “I do not wear the color much,” you shrug, trying to sound unbothered. “But I will get used to it over time.” 

“You shall,” Aemond nods. He seems pleased. Pleased that you will become a Targaryen, that you will be dressed in the color of his house until the end of your days. It is a reminder that you’re his. All his. 

“My Prince,” you change the subject. “Might I ask what you are doing outside my chambers this late?”

“I have come to talk.”

You fix him with a blank stare. Talk? The last thing you want to do is talk. 

“Where did my guard go?” you ask slowly.

“I advised he take a walk.” 

You get a feeling that the conversation with your sworn knight did not play out that way, but this is your future husband; it probably would not be a good idea to go to sleep on a bitter note. Biting back a retort and a sigh, you open your chamber door and wave him in. Aemond struts in casually. 

He acts like he owns the place with how he stands directly in the center. You dawdle by the doorway, allowing him to observe the space: he takes in the fireplace, the golden decor, and then your bed, draped in silks and the pillows similar to the fluff of clouds. It’s a beautiful room, you must admit. You take pride in it. 

“You are upset about the tribute, I presume,” Aemond says finally, turning to face you. That eye of his is the perfect shade of violet; purple like a flowering bruise, unclouded and intense and determined.

“I am not upset anymore,” you lie. “I do not care.”

“You do care.”

“No.”

It is quiet for a second. Not a word uttered.

Then Aemond pries you right open. “You do.”

“Fine. I do.”

“And why is that, Princess?” He almost taunts.

You want to snap at Aemond — ask him what he means and how can he take something like this so simply. It is not a joke. A civil war is brewing among his family, yet he does not take it seriously at all. He even seems to take joy in participating. The idea has you seething.

Here Aemond is, continuing to pretend that he is harmless, that his touch is gentle, that his palms won't burn handprints into your skin. You would almost believe it if you didn’t know any better. 

“With all due respect, My Prince, Jace and Luke are my dearest friends. They are kind and loyal to me, as well as their family.” 

Aemond hums, uninterested. "Perhaps you should get a dog. They possess the same traits.” 

An ancient anger gathers inside you. It’s almost like the world is laughing as it grasps your optimism by the throat, saying: this is how it is and how it will always be.

“You are playing quite the jester today, My Prince,” you tell him. I'd like to slap you across the face, is what you don't tell him.

Aemond lets out an amused huff at that. The light from the lamp in the corner of the room dances along his silhouette, illuminating every plane of his face. His hair is a white, jewel-drenched curtain — there’s the urge to run your hands through it. 

How can someone so gorgeous cause so much chaos? 

"I am exhausted," you finally sigh. You can feel how hardened your expression has become. “I am finished with miscommunications and arguments. I have tried to refrain from intense emotions and confrontations. The moment I entered King’s Landing, I told you that there was to be no trouble. You promised me. And what you did at dinner? That is what I stray from, yet you seem so content in dragging me back in.” 

Aemond’s mouth threatens to twitch into a scowl then. He’s trying to keep his face neutral, though annoyance peeks through the cracks in his façade. “You are acting as if jests are more harmful than stealing an eye.”

“I am not saying that. I am saying that if you are to be my husband, you should be shielding me from conflict. Not causing it.”

Aemond has nothing to say to that apparently. He just gazes at you piercingly, that one violet eye intently focused on you. You try to remain steadfast, although you do feel like shrinking under the chill of his stare. Somehow, you find the courage to continue. 

“If you truly respect me as your future wife — if you truly love me — then you would cease this petty game.” You steel yourself, begging yourself to be bold and ask the question. “Do you love me, Aemond?”

For a moment, you catch how Aemond’s face changes into one of surprise; he obviously was not expecting that question. It takes a couple of seconds before he fixes his jaw, training his expression into something more cool. Practiced. Poised. But then he looks at you; truly looks at you, stares you down from the inside out. “I should be asking you the same thing.” 

You freeze, almost shocked by the rebuttal. You can tell he is being serious: there is a sincerity with which he wants to know. 

Aemond may be wild and deranged like a dragon, thirsting for havoc, but he still aches for approval and acknowledgment. Always has. Perhaps that’s what he wants; he wants to hear that even though he is a mess, you can still love him.

“Tell me,” Aemond demands. Before you can say anything, he strides forward until he’s standing right in front of you. He leans into your space, breath fluttering along your cheeks and voice almost threatening. “Do you love me despite the parts I have lost? For only the horrors I shall always have? For my righteousness that drives you mad and for my lack in restraint that you so despise?”

The fire inside Aemond could set a kingdom ablaze; he knows it. Yet he still wants you to love him, to face the heat. Locate him among the ashes.

“I will accept every piece of you,” is all you can choke out.

Aemond seems to mull the words over. His face is terrifyingly neutral as he observes you carefully; he must not know impatience. 

“You still never answered my question,” You blurt. “Do you love me?”

Tell me you love me, is what you really want to say.

Aemond’s face remains blank for a second.

Unbeknownst to you, he’s almost offended at the inquiry. After all the years you have spent together, all the conversations and the secrets shared and the plights experienced — how could you utter such a thing? He was the one who spoke to his mother about proposing to you. Do you really think he did it for political gain? To secure a higher seat in the ranks of royalty? 

Aemond almost sneers at your ignorance. “How much longer must we be together before you acknowledge that I am not doing this for power?”

“That does not comfort me, Aemond.”

Silence. Dead silence.

The lack of an answer from Aemond makes you worry: worry that you struck a chord within him, that you have irritated him enough for him to leave, that you have made him regret accepting you as his wife. 

But something changes. Slowly — agonizingly slow — Aemond takes both of your hands into his, like a silent vow without words. A white flag of surrender. His profile relaxes into something slightly softer, more reserved. 

At the end of the day, he is to be your husband. If you need comfort, he will give you comfort, even if it means he has to be vulnerable.

Just for you. Only for you.

“When we were children, you once accused me of not knowing the meaning of love," Aemond starts. "But you were wrong."

You begin to breathe faster, grateful he can only discern the the direction of your emotions and nothing more. Hearing those words makes you feel something; it flutters inside your lower belly and is comparable to hope. 

“I, who am entirely destroyed and dreadfully incomplete, do not give a shit about anyone but you,” Aemond admits. His voice is low, deep, sincere. You almost cannot believe it. 

“Is that so?” You try to sound indifferent, but it’s not convincing. His face is so, so close: your noses are almost touching.

“I would not say it if it weren’t the truth,” Aemond hums. “I did not know how to deal with my affections before, nor did I accept them. You have tortured me into becoming someone I am not.”

Tortured?

“I don’t understand—“

“You are the sword I gut myself with; that, Princess, is love."

That’s it. That’s all you needed; that reassurance, that validation. Every single ache in your heart is extinguished in a single second, every wound healed, every internalized scar covered in gauze and bandages and the homeliness that accompanies love. 

More. You want him to say more. “…And you will continue to love me?”

“You are mine until death, my dear wife. I am your monster for the rest of time. I am your insanity. I am yours.”

“And me?” You whisper. You’re struggling to focus, trying to remember that you’re mad at him, but his lips are right in front of yours.

Your question nearly makes Aemond chuckle. He holds it back, a sharp exhale of air coming from his nose instead. “You are my refuge.”

“Your refuge?”

“My refuge,” Aemond repeats, his expression more resolute. “I can envision no other peace beyond the one that exists when our bodies are bound.”

“And you prefer me?” You want to be showered in his love, again and again. “Over anyone else?”

“I would choose you over all,” Aemond purrs. His tone, his accent — you could crumple to your knees. "In a world where there is so much to mourn and so little to take, I mourn nothing. I take what I wish. I will take you every time you are offered.”

Goosebumps threaten to rise from your body. Aemond’s hand comes down to rest on your waist, causing your breath to come out as a stutter. You’re not sure how you haven't disintegrated into nothingness. “I have loved you forever, Aemond.”

A warmth akin to sunshine rises in his face and he almost looks humored. You need him. And he needs you, though he may not outwardly admit it; needs you like you’re oxygen and he's trying to catch a breath.

Suddenly, Aemond’s hand grabs the back of your neck and he pulls you in for a kiss. Your fingers fly up to grip his shoulders when your lips touch, opening your jaw for him on instinct. You grab a fistful of his leather tunic and kiss him as hard as possible, allowing his hands to conquer your body. He tastes of peppermint, smells musky like dragon. 

Everything seems to be on fire. The pit of your stomach, your blood, his mouth. All you feel is the strength of his silhouette against your own and you want to remember this forever. With how Aemond holds you so firmly — almost like you might disappear any second — you can tell he feels the same. You have the power to kiss away his suffering, his years of self-hatred, his doubts, and the crushed dreams of an irrelevant future that he always imagined.

Aemond’s hands roam to your lower back, thumbs digging into the silky fabric of your nightgown. You draw him closer, brushing your thigh against his crotch to get a reaction out of him. He lets out a ‘hmm’ into your mouth.

There is nothing you desire more than to examine Aemond in full view with all lamplights on and his clothing off, to have him slowly remove this gown from your body and take his time with touching every inch. You want to run your fingertips across the ridged skin of his scar and trace it all the way down. You want to feel the weight of him flush against you, wrapped around you. You want him. 

Finally, you draw away, only to whisper. 

“You said you would take me whenever I am offered. Take me then, Aemond.”

A fire alights in Aemond’s eye — he’s considering it — but the flames quickly freeze over with that sense of duty. Self-control. “Not like this,” he murmurs. “But I vow to treat you to any obscenities when I bed you. I will leave such marks on your body that anyone you entertain afterwards will have to know me in order to know you.”

Aemond’s words have the ability to make you shiver. It only makes you more excited for your wedding day. Even then, you still want him in this moment. Need his presence.

“Stay with me tonight, at least,” you plead. “Just share the bed with me. Nothing else. I will bribe the guards tomorrow morning so we will not get caught.” 

Aemond considers you for a long while. Then, without a word, he smiles. It’s sly, yes, but oh-so beautiful.

“So you will stay?” You ask again. Aemond hums in agreement, cradling your cheek in a palm. It is a tenderness that you were not expecting, but one that you accept heartily. He nods his head before speaking.

“As long as you keep your hand in mine, I will be holding it.” 

i cant stop thinking about aemond fucking you so sweetly and just worshipping your body, making you cum multiple times

𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭; aemond spoils you like the princess you are.

𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐬; princess!reader, p in v penetration, mentions of fingering and oral, just pure smut ♡

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞; hi! i just had to write this little drabble :) please reblog and comment with your feedback. it means the world to me and keeps me motivated! be sure to consider following to stay updated ✨

"Breathe, Princess," Aemond grunts lowly, his hands holding onto your hips as you balance on his lap. When you fully press down on his erect cock once more, he guides you and lets out a satisfied hum. You start moving your hips, slowly — painfully slow — grinding his thick shaft deep inside your sopping cunt. 

“M-My Prince!” you gasp out. Everything is so sensitive; you have already cum two times, once from Aemond stuffing his long fingers into your pussy and the mind-blowing oral he performed afterwards. You’re close to another orgasm, and you would be embarrassed if you weren’t so clouded by pleasure. 

“Aemond,” he corrects, that one violet eye of his glinting with unadulterated desire and a tinge of fucking amusement.

Aemond pulls you down for a scorching kiss — his ability to tolerate the sight of you taking him so well is quickly vanishing. The whole thing is fucking messy, just a collision of teeth and tongues as he licks at your bottom lip. His head spins as a result of the sensuality of your kisses, and when he starts to grind up into you, your fingers fly up to tug on the silver strands of his long hair. 

The sting on his scalp makes Aemond lets out a strangled breath, and his thrusts deepen as he growls out, "You are beautiful." He enjoys the sound of your high-pitched whine in response, and his pride grows as he observes how fucked out you are already.

"I possess a considerable amount of desires," Aemond says in a hushed tone. "I want you. Your hand in marriage. I want to suffocate you with my dedication. Every inch of you." 

You wish so greatly that you could exchange the same words, reassure him of your affections; but you’re too jaded, too caught up in Aemond. That fire inside of him burns with a flaming wrath, yet he is gold. 

You can only think of one thing: 

What an honor it is to be valued by him. 

A stifled grunt escapes Aemond's chest as you grind your hips over his agonizing length, and he furrows his brows. The way your walls cling to his shaft and draw him in until his swollen, enraged tip is pressed firmly against your cervix has completely captured his attention. You're just so wet and tight, leaking all over his cock.

To bring you forward and press his lips against yours, Aemond’s large hand extends to the nape of your neck. Your lips passionately slide against his, and you might just die from the sensation.

“If I am a monster, it is because of the malice of man,” Aemond murmurs into your mouth. “It is only because of your love that I can be spared.” 

And this is the moment you have no regrets. 

Those in the kingdom made fun of you for selecting Aemond, a man built of barbed wire, equally as sharp and dangerous. How can you explain to them that it is the barbed wire that has protected you all this time? 

His fingertips clench around your neck as you attempt to move on instinct, and all you can do is you scream out a pathetic "Aemond!" as you break free from the frantic kiss. “Gods, please. Don’t stop!”

“Keep begging, my love.” Aemond almost chuckles, his lips mouthing over the curve of your breast. "It suits you."

His fingers start to circle your clit and you gasp, clinging to him as his calloused thumb hooks against it and he continues to gently rock into you in excruciating pleasure.

You both gasp as the sensation of him being so completely inside of you, your choked exhale shuddering as they pass through your lips.

“Good girl,” Aemond purrs, his smirk predatory and devilish, made worse by his expression full of mirth. He’s so fixated on how your cunt is trying so valiantly to milk him for all that he is worth, focused on the way your eyes slam shut with pleasure and your jaw drops open. Before you can tell him how much you love him, he gently rolls his hips to lead you up and down his burning-hot length. He begins to place kisses along your jugular, the hot puffs of breath fanning across the skin there, his speed on your clit increasing.

“I’m so close!” you whimper, your hands trembling as they grip his shoulders. Aemond hum in acknowledgement, the corners of his slightly lips twitching upward. 

“I am in your blood, in your veins, your psyche. Your entire being—body, senses, and divinity is mine. Can you feel it, Princess?”

“Yes!”

You’re about to cum, hanging right on the precipice of falling over the edge. The heat builds up in your belly, prepared to burst and dust you both with screamed moans and detonate explosive stars behind closed eyelids. You let out a broken cry of his name, urging him brush his mouth against your lips. 

“You stole my heart, my love,” Aemond whispers. “Don’t dare give it back.”