based on this incorrect quote i posted
how the svu characters would react to your “would you still love me if i was a worm?” text
Sonny Carisi
Amanda Rollins
Nick Amaro
Fin Tutuola
Rafael Barba
Olivia Benson
Elliot Stabler
Part 2!
Misplaced Lens Cap
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
we're not kids anymore.

#extradirty

Kaledo Art

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"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
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PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
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I'd rather be in outer space 🛸
dirt enthusiast

JVL
taylor price
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@danicalifornia25
based on this incorrect quote i posted
how the svu characters would react to your “would you still love me if i was a worm?” text
Sonny Carisi
Amanda Rollins
Nick Amaro
Fin Tutuola
Rafael Barba
Olivia Benson
Elliot Stabler
Part 2!
┌─ “ ! „ ROGUE
tw. incest, spit, dom/sub stuff, reader is a textbook brat, size kink, i think i mention tummy bulge once, manhandling, jealousy, virginity, aemond is mean but pussy wipped, tiny lil bit of breeding and wifing up wordcount. 7.2k
a/n. local anime blog goes rogue and writes hotd smut. yes i know okay just look away if you only like anime boys, we will get back to out usually scheduled program soon i swear i sweaarrrrrr dont judge me i have such a fat crush, i sWear i am only doing it to stay sane iT iS MY CALLING ♡
aemond targaryen x fem!reader
The heavy cover of smoke and dusty sage circles up in slow rounds towards the ceiling, like a flock of vultures. Candles burn low in the heavy air of the room, and the long curtains allow just enough fresh air into the room for the scent not to be stifling. Aemond assesses the whole of his room for a few breaths as the chambermaid softly slips out without another word, and pulls the heavy door to a clicked close behind her. Like a fleeing animal, he muses, unclasping and placing his sword upon his desk. The girl has always fled his company as fast as a mouse in a trap. Not like he’s ever done her wrong. Not like how he knows his older brother continues to do.
A small puff of annoyance comes out of his mouth as he starts to peel back some of the layers of his daywear, and drops them over the back of the chair.
No but aemond has a big praise kink and you can’t convince me otherwise. That boy wants to be appreciated and told he is good and pretty because no one, except alicent and criston cole, has ever praised him.
He also loves hearing you say how much you love him — he has never heard this before, not even from his mother. How can you love him, he thinks, if his own father doesn’t.
When you take off his eyepatch for the first time and say, in a choked voice, with so much emotion, “gods, you’re so beautiful”, he just melts. He can hardly believe it and he kisses you reverently, softly, then it turns greedy as he wants to pull more praise from your mouth, always more praise. When you pull apart and you gently stroke his scarred cheek (that part of his face is numb so he doesn’t feel it but the gesture, the appreciation, the lack of disgust sends him reeling), he closes his eye. “You’re beautiful,” you repeat, whispering into his ear, and he gasps, then wraps his arms around your waist, burying his face in your neck, peppering the crook of it in kisses. His soul wants to sing because he has never thought he could be considered beautiful, crippled as he was, and here his love is, saying it in a worshipful tone.
When you catch him without his sapphire in in his room, his eye hurting, he turns his back to you, his heart beating fast in his throat. You caught a glimpse of his face and his skin is crawling with the fear of rejection. “Aemond,” you say softly and walk up to him and he angles his face so that his empty eye socket is hidden from you. “Leave,” he responds in a strained voice, his hands clenched into fists at his sides and his whole body tense like a wolf that spotted a human in the woods and doesn’t want to be seen. In this moment, he truly feels more like a beast than a human, monstrous and not to be looked at. “Aemond,” you repeat and your fingers slide onto his jaw as you try to turn his face but he wrenches his face from your grip and takes a few fast steps back as if you just threatened him with a knife. “Leave me alone!” he snaps and you reply: “no, I want to see you as you are, my beautiful dragon.” Those words cut right through his heart and rage crashes through him like a powerful wave. He turns to you and advances on you and you stand strong as he leans into your personal space, threatening. “Oh, you want to see me as I am? Then see me, my love, see what the man you say you love, the man you say is beautiful, the man who kisses you and fucks you, really looks like!” he says lowly, dangerously, but it rings through the room like a scream. He is breathing harshly, his hands painfully clenched around your shoulders and he stares into your eyes, fury evident in his gaze but also fear. You just cup his cheek and turn up your face to kiss him. “I want you as you are, Aemond,” you whisper against his mouth and his breath hitches in surprise. He didn’t expect you to say this, he expected disgust, he expected you to turn away from him, not just now but forever. “I am a disfigured cripple,” he breathes out shakily and your heart clenches at the venomous self-loathing in his voice. You kiss him, then, pouring all your love and want into the kiss, sliding your tongue into his mouth when he opens his and he moans. He pulls you to himself by your waist, then he breaks the kiss and buries his face in your hair. “Do you… do you still want me?” he asks hesitantly, vulnerably. “Of course I do, Aemond.” “Say it, say you want me,” he says and it sounds more like he is pleading than commanding you. “I want you, Aemond, just as you are. You are beautiful still, eye or no eye. I love you.” And something breaks in him and you feel his shoulders shake and then a sob escapes him. He pulls away from you, turning his back to you, radiating shame, his face in his hands. You wrap your arms around his trim waist, your cheek against the back of his shoulder. He weeps desperately, every sob tearing from his throat against his will and he can’t stand that you are seeing him like this, so weak. Fear wraps around his heart and he realises you will now see him as less of a man and he feels like a child again, powerless and mocked and inferior. It’s unbearable and he craves to turn around and seek comfort and this only causes him to feel more disgusted with himself. “I love you, my prince,” you say again, knowing he needs to hear it. “I will always love you.” After a while, he calms down and you gently turn him around. He is avoiding your eyes. “Why did you remove the sapphire, is it hurting?” you ask with worry and he breathes out and nods. “Is there anything I can do?” He shakes his head and you stroke his cheek. “Come, let’s get into bed, I will read your favourite story to you, distract you.” In bed, he lays his head on your chest, the book propped up on his shoulder, and you stroke his hair. “I love you,” you repeat before you start reading and he smiles.
Riding Dragons
Summary: Aemond wishes for you to meet Vhagar, but ends up showing you that riding two dragons is far better than riding just one.
Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader
Warnings: NSFW. Cumplay. Dry humping. Pussy slide. Aemond is very needy.
A/N: This is rather long, but bear with me. I got carried away and had to end it in a blast. Hope you enjoy!
Word count: 4k
Hear me out, mild but super passionate after sex where aemond lets reader braid his hair 😩 while keeping her on his lap (her straddling him), caressing her body, holding her for dear life and softly kissing every inch of skin he can reach… just please I could die for thisss (specially if you make him use valyrian here and there), he deserves the purest, most desperate love
GOD I had to address this one real quick good lord over here fanning myself! This is a shorter drabble, but I plan on revisiting very often in future fics.
Aemond x female!reader | Smut leading to fluff...leading back to smut I got carried away | post-coital bliss | Breeding kink?
My hips are the temple and your hands a prayer (Aemond Targaryen x f!reader)
(This is my apology fic for dissapearing for a week)
Masterlist
Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Reader
Word count: 3.1k
Summary: Aemond has to leave for some family buisness just to come back and be surprised by your announcement.
Warning: Mentions of cringy sex, voyeurism, read if you want, but if you are a minor, leave! why are you here?!
A/N: Sorry for dissapearing but this week was so horrible that I only wanted to curl on my bed and cry :( I also was surprised that I got to 300 followers? how? I mean thank you so much but I guess I didn’t actually expected it! By the way, I saw the few requests you guys send me and I will get to them as fast as possible, I’m trying to finish A guiding sea so after that I will start them!
In the few weeks you been married, there was no moment your husband wouldn’t have you on your bed. Aemond made his mission to let you discover what beautiful and graceful sex was and to be honest, you really didn’t mind, you enjoy the type of emotions that man could give you.
This morning wasn’t any different as his hands wrapped around your tights as he help you ride him. “Just like that.” He whispered against the skin of your breasts, the tightness that surrounded him was an aphrodisiac feeling he would never get tired of it. Several loud knocks broke away that erotic ambience that surrounded the both of you.
clunkiest water graphics I've ever seen
I’ve never been so happy that a video has sound.
CRONCHY
@thevastnessof dont hide this excellent contribution in the tags
Memory taps a gun to your inner skull & demands you bring back the dead.
— Donte Collins, from "Grief, Again"
You're trying not to tell him you love him, and you're trying to choke down the feeling, and you're trembling, but he reaches over and he touches you, like a prayer for which no words exist, and you feel your heart taking root in your body, like you've discovered something you don't even have a name for.
— Richard Siken, Crush
Little mouse part 4
Paring: Aemond x reader
Warning: 18+, fingering, dirty talk
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3
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My Fierce Lady
Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Female!Reader Word Count: 1.4k Summary: You are the second wife of Aemond, him already having a daughter. When a man tries to attack, you defend yourself and his daughter. Aemond makes it there after the attack and comforts you. Warnings: Swearing, violence, brief mention of pregnant reader, man attacking reader, murder, blood, assumption of attempted r*pe, angry/protective aemond, angst
You were the second wife of Aemond Targaryen. His first wife died soon after she gave birth to their daughter, Maelehra. As terrible as it sounded, he wasn’t that heartbroken over her death but sad for Mae. He didn’t want to marry her, and they never truly got along, only doing it to please his parents and to perform his duty.
They gave him some time until his mother decided it was enough. She believed he needed a new wife and for his now 4-year-old daughter to have a mother once more. His mother chose you to marry her second son. You were from a smaller noble house and known for your timid and kind nature; a perfect match to balance out the blunt and confrontational Targaryen.
You had been married for close to a year. While your and Aemond's relationship had slowly blossomed into love, you quickly grew close to his young daughter. Your favorite thing to do together was to practice your needlework while she sat and watched, which led you to today.
Hi!! Could you do a drabble for Aemond x lowborn reader (fem), where Aemond is torn bc he fell in love for the first time but also feels a sense of duty to marry a highborn lady bc he’s a prince? And maybe he even comes to his father Viserys for advice? 😩 I think we were robbed of father/son interactions on the show
Ooooh, I sense forbidden romance in the air! Lovely, hope you enjoy!
He already felt stupid for asking. What answer is he possibly expecting to get? 'Yes, son of mine, you may marry the lowborn servant in the kitchens.' It sounded ridiculous even saying it to himself. But, the fool in his wished to try. The same fool who'd paused when you'd first entered the room, holding a tray of food to serve at their table.
He'd never seen you before that moment. Granted, the Red Keep is full of servants working day and night to serve the royal family. But, he recognized faces and remembered names well. Your face was one he'd definitely have remembered. He kept himself composed, cold and unfeeling, as you placed a bowl of greens nearest him. He did not let his eyes linger on you long, and he drank wine to find something to do. You unsettled him, but not in an unpleasant way. He then watched you leave without saying a word.
He saw you again walking across the yard. You had a basket of vegetables freshly pulled from the earth, and on your way to the cook. He'd kept on sparring with Ser Cole to not bring attention to himself, but his one eye kept you in view. He couldn't help noticing the sun shining your hair, and the sparkle in your eyes. You were lovely in the general sense; the same way any woman would be lovely, but it still caught him off guard. Just like Ser Cole's shield when it slammed into his chest.
He found out who you were, and that you worked in the kitchens. Aemond suddenly decided he no longer liked the serving girl who tended to his chambers, his linens, clothes, and cups. You were brought to him the following morning, carrying a breakfast tray for him. He let you serve him, without saying anything as he nibbled on this and that. You'd changed from the grubby scullery maid dress into the serving one, a red dress with a white apron. It looked nice on you. He tried finding something to say as you moved about fixing his room and changing out sheets. Aemond finally spoke to you when he claimed he had trouble tying his jerkin. He pretended to have a shoulder injury, and therefore needed assistance. You'd appeared reluctant at first, unsure of his real intentions, before he urged you to come over.
He watched you deftly tie each piece of clothing. His eyes took in the shape of your nose and lips. He saw the large dark mark around above your left eyebrow and curling onto your temple down to your cheekbone. He'd never noticed it until now because your hair kept it covered, but being closer, he inspected it further.
"That's an interesting birthmark," he commented, nodding to it as you finished clasping his doublet together.
"Um, thank you, Your Grace," you replied shyly, finishing up his doublet. "Some people tell me it's shaped like the moon."
"A crescent moon."
"A what?"
"The moon when it's shaped like your scar."
"Oh, I see. I always wondered what that was called..." you then realized your proximity to him and backed away. "Forgive me, Your Grace. I-"
"-You haven't done anything wrong," he insisted. "Only talk, nothing more. You may go now."
He watched you leave, and wished he'd made you stay. The days carried on like this: you helping him with his routines in the morning and at night, occasionally making conversation until he's forced to dismiss you. He particularly enjoyed how you never seemed to stare at his sapphire eye. You acted as if it he were whole, a full man with all his parts. Women always noticed it first, and their faces of disgust or distaste bothered him. He tried not caring, but it grew under his skin. You dared to ask him about it once.
"How'd it happen, Your Grace?"
"How did what happen?"
"Your eye..."
He took a drink from his cup and told you the story. Well, his version of it. He said he'd been attacked by two boys, they got into a scuffle, one of them pulled out a blade and slashed his eye. You were enraptured by the story.
"It must be difficult," you said after, "Having to live with only one eye. I imagine lots of people stare and..." you stopped talking, realizing you'd move onto sensitive grounds.
"It is hard," he nodded. "But, I like to think it gives me an advantage. My opponent thinks he can come at me on my left, but then is instantly proven wrong when I strike him with my blade."
"I didn't mean simply for fighting, Your Grace," you replied. "I mean for normal things as well. I imagine lots of noble ladies don't want to marry a man missing an eye. I hear the lot of them say you're scary and intimidating."
He stood up from his table, walking over to you. You did not back away from him. Staring into your eyes, he asked, "Do you think I'm scary?"
You looked over his face, then said, "I've met scarier men than you."
"Have you?"
"There was this brute I met on the Street of Silk-"
"-You worked there? Before coming here?"
"No, Your Grace, I lived there with my mother. She was a whore, who had me in the brothel where she bedded my father." You spoke so plainly to him. He liked it. "The brute was missing an eye, had sharpened his teeth to fine points, cut his nails into claws, and ate raw meat. They called him The Beast."
"Sounds terrifying," he replied in an unimpressed tone.
"You wouldn't talk like that if you'd seen him."
You both talked throughout the night. You told him stories of your childhood in the city and of your family. He recounted tales of him flying on Vhagar and about the other dragons of old. You made him feel human. He liked that. Finally, one night after a few cups of wine, he bedded you. It'd been gentle, slow, and passionate. The both of you became one soul, one body. Aemond realized, as he watched you quake underneath him, that he did not wish for anyone else.
But, you were lowborn. A bastard girl of a whore in King's Landing, who never met her father and works as a servant to the prince. You were not marriage material to anyone who mattered. His duty as a prince was to marry a high born lady from a noble house to strength his family's alliances. He always stood by his duty; he refused to be like Aegon, who liked shirking away from his as much as possible. He'd do right by his family, and be the good soldier who did what was expected. Yet, he desired something more, something real. He'd done many great things for his family; he'd burn down cities for them. Perhaps, just perhaps, they might let him have this one thing.
Walking into his father's bed chambers, he found the old king sitting by his model of Old Valyria. Shaky hands whittled away at a new dragon piece. Aemond could smell the sickness being masked underneath incense burned by the maesters. His father still had some of his mind left. He'd not completely lost himself yet.
"Father?" he called to him, standing by the door with his feet apart and hands behind his back. Be a good soldier, son. Let him see you are serious.
"Ah, Aemond," he smiled softly, rotting teeth starting to show on the bottom half, "My son...How good to see you."
"Yes, um," he stepped forward, "There was...there was something I wish to ask you."
He'd normally go to his mother for this request, but he knew what she'd say. She'd tell him 'no'. His father, a man and the king, had better sway. If he can break laws to make Rhaenyra, a woman, an heir to the throne, then he can break a law for him, his trueborn son.
"What is it, son? Sit, sit down."
Aemond took a seat across from his father. He watched brittle hands work the dragon into its shape. He must know. Even if he gets what he expected, he must ask. "Father, you once broke tradition and law to make Rhaenyra your heir-"
"-Not this again," he groaned. "I told Hightower that I will not change my mind-"
"-No, no, it isn't about that, Father. It's..." he took a deep breath, "I wish to marry, Father."
His eyes lit up, "Is that so? Who is she?"
"Well, her name is Y/N. She is clever, charming, gentle, and kind. She...She's wonderful," he replied. 'And, I wish to marry her."
"Who is her father? Her house?"
"She...well, you see..."
His father nodded sagely, "I see. She is lowborn, I take it?"
"Yes."
"Bastard born?"
"Yes."
"Comely?"
"Very. I love her, Father. I love her, and I..." he exhaled deeply, "I have always done everything you and mother ever wanted. I trained myself in sword and shield. I studied history, philosophy, art, and war. I have been cordial to my half-sister and her children when you've asked. I have always maintained the respect, and uphold the values and traditions of our house," he said, "But, for once, Father...Let me have one thing. Let me have her hand."
"You may have her," Viseryes said after a long pause, "But, you may not wed her."
"Father, I-"
"-You will marry a noblewoman and have noble children. You may keep this girl as a bedmate or a paramour, but marriage? I am sorry, but I cannot allow this."
"Why not? You allow Rhaenyra to do as she pleases! To seek her pleasures and always turn a blind eye to anything she's ever done." Rage began burning inside him. He stood up, fury burning at his father. He should have known.
"Rhaenyra married in her bloodline and had children as expected of her station. You must do the same, to keep peace and prosperity going."
He scoffed at these words. Aemond did not know what answer he expected. Perhaps he'd expected his father to be on his side for once; to care about Alicent's children rather than only his first wife's child. "I..." he balled up his fists, "I understand, Father."
"I'm not saying you can't keep the girl."
"I wanted a life with her. I want children with her."
"Which you can have."
"It is not the same, and you know it isn't!" he snapped at him. "I should have suspected as much from you. If our name isn't 'Rhaenyra' then we go unnoticed by you."
"Aemond-"
He stormed out before his father could see the real fury. Aemond did not tear up or feel weepy. His fire burned. It roared. He stormed into his apartments where you stood, putting his mended doublet on a table.
"Your Grace, I-"
"-We're leaving."
"Leaving?"
"Yes, leaving."
"You talked to your father then?" you smiled expectantly.
"Yes, and it went exactly as I expected, but," he cupped your cheek and brought you close, "That won't stop us. I don't need his approval. I don't need any of this. I only need you."
You stared at him for a moment, then nodded slowly. You left him for a corner of his bedroom by his bed. Tapping the wall, the side cracked open and he saw the secret passage door. He watched you bend down and show him two rucksacks with disguises. He smiled.
Yes, he would marry you and damn it all.
Hello! i imagine aemond follows the trope "bad to everyone but you", so you could write a one-shot where they grow up studying together in childhood, the reader loves history and he is completely whipped by it
One-shot time!! Aemond x reader
No content warnings | lots of fluff | Aemond being a nerd
Most children liked to play outdoors, running wild and scraping up their knees. You, however, were not like most children, preferring the company of books to that of your peers. You took shelter often in the library of the Red Keep, surrounded by dusty old tomes stacked to the ceiling. Shortly after your eleventh name day, one particular afternoon, as you sat nose deep in Chronicles of Ancient Targaryen Philosophy, the usual heavy silence of the room was broken as someone opened the heavy oak door and entered.
You looked up from the page, eyes taking a moment to focus on the young boy now walking over to join you. “Aemond, I haven’t seen you in a while.” You had grown up practically at the young prince’s side, only being a year apart in age, and would even have called him “friend” had he not changed so after the incident with Rhaenyra’s children. The left side of his face, still heavily bandaged, was taking a long time to heal. The maesters had been unable to save the left eye. Aemond had become much more withdrawn into himself and prone to fits of temper ever since, despite what he had said about it being a “fair trade” for Vhagar.
Growing Pains
Chapter 3 (out of 4): Theirs is the Fury?
Aemond Targaryen x F!Velaryon (Strong) Reader
Part 1 – Part 2
Clueless as ever to one another’s true feelings, Aemond and Y/N take a leap of faith that spirals into events that would change their lives forever. But, for the better or for the worse?
Warnings: NSFW
Word count: 4455
Keep reading
Growing Pains
Aemond Targaryen and Y/N ‘Velaryon’ grew up together. They played and stumbled and fell in the halls and empty chambers of Red Keep, retreated to study tomes under the God’s Tree in the courtyard, and took turns distracting the cooks as their pockets pulled at the seams with the stolen lemon cakes. As Y/N and Aemond’s mothers drifted apart, the young prince and princess grew closer—much closer than either of them thought was possible.
This is a slow-burn, multi-chapter fic that will be (heavily) canon divergent at times. Both Aemond and Y/N are 18+.
Part 2 - Part 3
Warnings: None for this chapter
Word count: 2180
A.N: This was in the works for a while, but only as a vague idea. Aemond being a total diva and enamouring everyone pulled it out of the drafts and put it together at lightning speed.
Keep reading
Start Anew
Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Female!Reader Word Count: 1.1k Summary: After one of the many times Aemond puts you down, you get fed up of his fake apologies and let him know how you feel. Warnings: Swearing, insecure Aemond about being a disappointment, angst to fluff
A/N: Wanted to jump on the bandwagon and stray from my typical Stranger Things fics and take a crack at hotd.
The door to the hall slammed against the wall as you forcibly pushed your way through. The skirt of your dress billowed behind you, and hot tears streamed down your face as you made your way to your chambers. He had done it yet again, never showing any shame nor a shred of decency to not do it in front of his family.
The room was silent; all eyes fell on the man who caused you to abruptly storm out during supper. The Queen looked toward her son, “Aemond! Must you constantly torture the poor girl?”
“How I treat my wife is of none of your concern, Mother,” Aemond replied flatly. He grabbed his cup to take a drink to attempt to avoid her harsh gaze. He wasn’t in the mood for another lecture he was sure about to receive.
The Taming of the Second Son
Rating: Mature Category: F/M Warnings: Dubious Consent Fandom: House of the Dragon Relationships: Aemond Targaryen/Reader Additional Tags: Vaginal Fingering, Mentions of Breeding Words: ~2.5k
Continuation of this post.
Later that night, when Aemond finds you alone in a study . . .
━━▲━━
“I am a prince.” Aemond gave you a look that was both haughty and indignant. “Making demands is expected of me.”
You returned his look tenfold. “Does every prince do what’s expected of him? Or is that only you?”