29. Writer. Mother. I apologise in advance for the person I might become when I hyperfixate. 🤍 The Ghost Prince. AO3: dragonrider22 👇🏽 https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragondriver22/pseuds/Dragondriver22
List of “you say you wanna be friends but it’s starting to feel like you wanna be more than that” prompts
“Tell me why you say you wanna be friends but then go and pull shit that makes me feel like you want to be more than friends?”
“Do you… Like like me?” “No, I don’t. That’s defamatory.”
“I don’t know why but all I can think about is kissing you. I’m… Not the only one, right?”
“Friends don’t fucking do this.”
“Do you actually want to be friends or do we need to talk about this and reevaluate our relationship?”
“I don’t know if I can do this with you when I think I’m starting to want more.”
“If I knew we’d come to this then I wouldn’t have agreed to be your friend in the first place.”
“You’re confusing me. Stop it.”
“So what is it you really want from me?” “I don’t— I don’t know.”
“Fuck, why are you doing this to me?” “Doing what?” “Messing with my head!”
“Everything about this is starting to feel really not platonic.”
“…This isn’t working.”
“I’m pulling away before I get hurt.”
“Don’t give me mixed signals. If you want us to stay friends, don’t fucking act like that.”
“I don’t know about you, but I want out. I can’t keep doing this and act like we’re just friends.”
“Did I do something? Why are you suddenly acting so distant?” “Just… Because.”
“Don’t give me that shit. Don’t treat me like that. Don’t make me think you like me. Don’t give me the hope I don’t need or want. Don’t give me a reason to continue feeling this way for you.”
“…I think I like you.”
“Is it weird I wanna give you all of me?”
“This is all we should be, yet it somehow feels like we could be more. You feel me?” “…Sorry?”
Ok so I've found a way to describe what Neurodivergent Can't Do Task Mode™ feels like to neurotypicals
So you know how you can't make yourself put your hand down on a hot stovetop? There's a part of your brain that stops you from doing that? That's what Neurodivergent Can't Do Task Mode™ feels like
Even if we want to do it, there's a barrier stopping us from doing it, and it's really hard to override
And why does our brain see the task as a hot stovetop? Because when neurotypicals finish a task, they get serotonin, but we don't get that satisfaction after completing a task. A neurotypical wouldn't get serotonin from putting their hand on a hot stovetop, it would just hurt. When we can't do a task, it's because our brain knows that the task will hurt (metaphorically) and wants to avoid that.
It's not that we're choosing not to do the task, it's that our brain is physically preventing us from doing it.
Neurotypicals can and should reblog but please don't add anything
(Sorry/not sorry about the random bolding, it makes it easier for us to read)
Oh that’s a great example. It’s not even really a metaphor in some cases. Because this is exactly what some of our brains are doing. For one reason or another the brain thinks that the task in question is dangerous or harmful and the mechanism keeping us from doing it is a survival mechanism.
y’all. look. im as about as disappointed in myself about this hyperfixation as you are, but here we are. this man is the blueprint for enemies to lovers & considering good content is SPARSE, here are my recommendations. all of these are on ao3! & most contain incest of some kind bc they’re targaryens😶 so. yea. if y’all have recs that aren’t on this list, put them in the comments 💥💳💥💳💥💳
******
• our violent delights by bikadoo~~~ a genderbent lucerys fic! this was the first aemond fic I read and it set the standards HIGH.
• the one-eyed prince by hazelmcbrideauthor~~~ the aemond fic to end all aemond fics. the perfect™ enemies to lovers story. im rereading it right now bc im garbage <3 all of this author’s work is just flawless. i cant reccomend it enough.
• you see me in hindsight (tangled up with you all night) by fkevin073 ~~~ this shit has CRACK in it. it’s brilliantly done. an arranged marriage trope but OC is betrothed to aegon, not aemond🤭 im waiting for an update with bated breath.
• the death of peace of mind by idkmanokay ~~~ the first line of this one is “the first time he kills a man, it’s for her,” need i say more?
• smoke in the shadows by orestesdream ~~~ no incest in this one! OC is the daughter of one of the dragonkeepers.
• wildest dreams by ohhstark ~~~ enemies to lovers & a character study on aemond. completed work & only 6 chapters long!
aemond targaryen x original female character , aemond targaryen x wife!oc
summary: Aemond and Myria need each other just as much, but one of them is bound to make the first move
warnings: smut , aemond is a tease, a TEASE , fluff.
****
Myria opened her eyes, as she felt a warm beam of sunshine glimmering on her face. She stretched an arm to her right, and found the space empty, as always. She had a dim recollection of Aemond kissing her good morning, but she must’ve been asleep at the time. More often than not he started his day hours earlier than Myria, but he always made sure to kiss her before leaving the bed.
She rolled over, sighting in loneliness. It had been three moons since Max was born, and they still hadn’t spent a night together. Sure, they slept in the same bed every night, but they had yet to endeavour in an activity Myria had been particularly yearning for quite some time. She knew Aemond was just trying to be respectful of her, and she knew how lucky she was for that, most husbands weren’t that thoughtful; but she was growing relentless, and wished he did something.
Myria shook her head, deciding she would not let her day be ruined by such bothersome thoughts, then looked towards the window, and smiled. The weather was clear, the sun was shining and only a few clouds covered the sky. It was warm, and she was already feeling like her old self. No pain whatsoever, no excessive tiredness, not feeling utterly bloated anymore, and she wanted to take advantage of that and spend time playing with the boys once again.
So she hopped out of the bed, and put on a nice, rose dress that she had brought back from Dorne. It was made out of silk, and was tight on her waist, where a small knot tied the dress closed over her chest. It elegantly fell to just below her knees, and only covered her up to her shoulders, showing her bare arms. She guessed it could be seen as a slightly indecorous gown by the people in Westeros, but the day was unusually warm, and the dress made her feel like home. She was a Martell, first and foremost, which meant she thrived in the heat.
After leaving Max with a Septa, Myria strolled towards her children’s room and gently shoved the door open, smiling with fondness at the sight of the two boys sleeping. “Good morning, my sunshines!” She whispered with love, as she kissed each of them awake. Trystan started to sit up on his own, while Griffin remained in bed, snoring deeply. She bent down once again, and started tickling him, which managed to make him open his eyes in a smile. “Do you want to go with me to visit Rhaexar and Maelar?”
The boys sheepishly agreed with happiness, and jumped out of bed. Myria was fast to dress them, and then bolted across the castle’s hallways, as she pretended to chase after them. As much as they loved their little brother, the boys had missed being able to play with their mother, and she had missed doing so just as much. Myria complained sometimes about the wild souls the boys were, failing to admit both of them had certainly inherited such a trait because of her.
They reached the entrance to the castle, which also happened to be the training patio, and Myria helped the boys into a carriage, so they could all be taken into the dragonpit. She was more than happy to simply hop a horse and take them herself, but Aemond insisted on such precautions.
“Alright darlings, stay here,” she instructed them, after settling them down, “I am going to look for Yago, I’ll be back in a second.”
The few times the man wasn’t outside her door, he spent training, as she very well knew, so she figured he had to be somewhere around the patio. There was only one problem: the place was so cramped, Myria was having a hard time spotting him.
There was a big crowd near a corner, gasping in awe and cheering about something that was happening within the circle of people. Myria recalled Yago liked to get into practice fights, so she approached the multitude, hoping to find him. She gently pushed some people around, and stood behind two women, who were very openly blushing and rallying.
Myria then realised the crowd was franticing about two people duelling, and she was surprised to see her husband as one of them. Aemond was sparring against Ser Criston Cole, and quite dangerously as well. They were striking at each other with all of their strength, and she couldn’t help but feel her heart leap each time Aemond narrowly ducked one of the Commander’s attacks.
Myria knew she was supposed to look for Yago, but she couldn’t draw her eyes away from Aemond. She was aware of her husband’s impressive skills with the sword— his reputation preceded them everywhere they went, but she never knew how good indeed he was at it. She rarely saw her husband fighting, given that Aemond didn’t like to participate in tourneys and she wasn’t one to usually have incentive to go down and watch him, since she thought watching men sparring wasn’t that thrilling a diversion. But that day she stood corrected.
The way Aemond swirled the sword with his fingers, the hostile scowl that tightened his jaw, the grunts that left his lips each time he bolted towards Cole, and how easily he dodged all of his strikes, had Myria feeling a certain type of way, and her brain started to rush through a torrent of thoughts no honourable lady should have in public. She thought about his muscles, all very well known to her, flexing under his shirt; about him shoving her into bed with the same strength he pushed Cole, and him muffling his groans on her bare shoulders—
Before she could realise what she was doing, Myria found herself on the edge of the circle, watching with a much too improper gaze at her husband, if not openly ogling him.
The fight seemed to be reaching an end, since Aemond clearly had the upper hand. On a clever move, he aggressively hit Cole’s shield with his sword, making it snap in two, one of the parts landing just before Myria’s feet. With a kick, Aemond knocked Criston over, who fell to the floor with a thud, poked his neck with the tip of the sword, and smirked. Victory. People all around her cheered, the two women at her side maybe much too enthusiastically, but Myria was awfully entranced by him to notice.
“Well done, my Prince.” Cole smiled, as Aemond extended his arm to help him on his feet. That’s when the Prince turned around to search for the broken shield, and spotted her, his wife, gaping at him, eyes sparkling and cheeks faintly blushed. His eyes travelled to the hand she was pressing against her breasts, covered only by a thin, impossibly tight fabric, and heat ignited in his core, as his heart fluttered at the sight. He had to bite an arrogant smile away from his lips, proud about the fact that he could stir up such an improper reaction from her, away from the intimacy of their shared room.
“Be careful, my lady,” Aemond said out loud, pointing at the shield next to her feet, while strolling towards her. As he reached her, Aemond looked around, to make sure everyone was distracted, and drew his lips close to her ear. “I could see you drooling from six feet away, princess,” he whispered, subtly smirking at her.
“Mmm.” She dopily hummed, eyes fixed on the heartbeat on his neck, still much too entranced by her husband to understand the words coming at her. “Oh!” She gasped in embarrassment, once her brain catched up with her hearing. Myria looked down at her feet, as shame flushed her cheeks a bright, rose tinge. He was rather fond of that colour.
Aemond gently grabbed her chin, and lifted her gaze up, forcing her to meet his. “You don’t need to hide your arousal from me, dear wife.” He murmured against her ear. Myria felt the burning feeling of desire travelling down her stomach, and couldn’t help but to exhale a little whine as her husband dropped her face, and backed a step away from her, bending down to pick the broken shield.
“What is it, then?”
“I— I’m sorry?” She asked, face scrunched up in confusion.
“I assume you didn’t come here to indecently stare at your husband, or has lust simply made you bolder, dearest?” He sniggered, with a mischievous grin.
“O—oh,” she stuttered, “I was looking for Yago, so he could escort me and the boys to the dragonpit.”
“I’ll come with you.” He instructed, throwing the sword and broken shield on a table by their side. He then placed his hand on Myria’s lower back, and guided her towards the carriage.
The trip towards the dragonpit was loud, Myria thanked the Gods, as she spent most of the time struggling with keeping the boys away from jumping from one side to another, which distracted her from the butterflies her husband’s teasing had left fluttering on the depths of her core.
“Come on, boys!” She pulled them apart, as the carriage came to a halt. “Let Yago help you get down, that’s it.” Myria called, as she made sure the little boys jumped into the man’s arms safely. She was about to hop from the carriage herself, when a hand grabbed her waist and pulled her back inside. Aemond then pushed the door close, and gently shoved her against it. He placed a hand against the wall, right next to her face, and drew his face near hers, his hot breath making her tremble under his touch.
“W— what…”
“Do you want something from me, my lady?” He whispered, letting his lips brush against her cheek. “Is that why you put on that gown…” he added, trailing the edge of the dress with his fingers, around her shoulders, collarbone, cleavage… “and why you stared at me with such an insolent blush on your cheeks?”
…breasts. Myria slightly whined at his touch, at the delicacy with which his fingers rubbed against her chest, wishing he was rougher. She knew he was playing with her, but Myria wasn’t strong enough to resist. She was a pawn on a game he had already set the rules to.
Her body and soul became entirely his the moment he looked at her; her clever, witty and bold character surrendered before Aemond’s touch, like sand melts under fire. Myria fixed her gaze on his lips, with an almost famished expression on her eyes.
He placed a hand on her nape, gently pulling her towards him. “All you need to do is ask, my sweet wife.” His lips were so close, he might as well be already kissing her, and so she closed her eyes, and slightly opened her mouth, waiting for him to just take everything from her and then—
Agony.
Before she could realise what had happened, Aemond had stepped away from her, opened the carriage door, and was forcing her impossibly clumsy feet into the floor, as his steady hand rested on her lower back. Her heart kept on racing as they followed Yago and the boys towards the massive doors of the dragon pit, trying to pull herself together quickly.
She jogged towards her sons, as the sound of steps coming at them from a lower platform reached their ears, and soon enough two dragonkeepers were approaching them. Rhaexar, Trystan’s dragon, was four years of age, so he had to be brought in chains to avoid any problems, whereas Maelar was so small still, he was perfectly happy to cling on the man’s shoulder. Griffin wasn’t yet being fully trained to master him, since he was far too young still.
Maelar was the first to spot them, opening his wings and flying towards them. He landed on Myria’s arm, and started to softly screech, red scales fluttering with content.
“He missed you Mama!” Griff giggled.
“Rytsa, Maelar,” she chuckled, “I missed you too.” She gently patted his head, and then kneeled down to place the dragon in Griff’s arms.
While the two of them were playing with the small, harmless dragon, Aemond took Trystan by his hand and guided him towards Rhaexar. He motioned to the dragonkeeper to step away, since he wished to be the one to teach his son how to bond with his dragon.
“Alright, byka raqiros,” he sighed, bending down so he could match the toddler’s height, and very gently held his chin with his hand “as always, don’t make sudden or harsh moves, and don’t try to approach him unless you know he is in the mood for that.”
“Yes, papa.” Trystan nodded, squeezing his arm, and then started walking towards the dragon, nervous of letting his dad’s hand go, but Aemond wasn’t worried. Rhaexar was still a pretty small dragon, and he was one of the gentlest he had ever encountered. He had never even roared at the boy, much less tried something dangerous. He could be a bit of a rough player, sure, but he was simply matching Trystan’s character.
“Come on, ask him to serve you.” Aemond whispered, following close the steps of the boy. Although the dragon still kept a friendly demeanour, he was thrilled about seeing his soon to be rider, and couldn’t help but to move around, happily pumping his pale blue scales up, golden eyes shimmering with excitement.
“Dohaeragon, Rhaexar.” His little voice commanded. The dragon stood still in his place, with a pleasant semblance.
“Sȳrī,” Aemond smiled, “now go on, get closer.”
The toddler confidently closed the gap between him and the dragon, and placed a small hand on its back. Rhaexar amiably grumbled at the gesture, and started gurgling nonsense.
“Sȳz valītsos, Rhaexar, sȳz valītsos,” Trystan giggled, confidently petting the dragon. With a chuckle, Aemond took a step forward, and stroked the dragon’s neck.
“Papa,” the boy said, lifting his gaze, “can I say it?”
“Say what, ñuha zaldrītsos?” He asked, with a fond, loving expression on his face.
“You know what.” The toddler mischievously grinned.
Aemond looked around, to ensure his wife and son were far enough, and returned his gaze to the boy. “Go ahead.”
“Dracarys, Rhaexar!” Trystan instructed.
The dragon stared at the boy, and Aemond could swear he saw the toddler’s grin reflected on its face. Rhaexar lifted his neck, loudly screeched, and then spat the biggest flare his young body allowed him to.
Trystan returned to his father's side, jumping from excitement, and clutched on his leg, while laughing. Aemond instinctively lowered his hand and rubbed the toddler’s back, with a proud smile on his lips. Trystan might match his father in looks, but his laughter was all Myria’s. The wide smile, the way his eyes turned into half moons, the hiccups, and how effective it was in spreading joy for everyone else around. Aemond adored seeing his wife reflected on his children.
“Well done, ñuha valītsos.” He chuckled, sharing his laughter. “Soon enough you’ll be riding him, Trystan.”
“And will we go on rides together with Vaghar?” The boy asked, eyes sparkling with hope.
“Everyday,” Aemond nodded, “you’ll see.”
The whole show catched Myria and Griffin’s attention, and they started walking towards them. Excited, Griffin let go of Myria’s hand, and bolted towards Rhaexar, but Aemond catched him in his arms because he could reach him.
“Never run towards a dragon that is not yours, Griffin.” He scolded him, with a soothing voice. Not even if the situation demanded it was he able to yell at his children. “It could hurt you.”
“Yes, papa.”
Myria reached their side, and ruffled Trystan’s hair. “Mama, did you see that?!” He asked, bouncing with happiness, and a sweet, so heart—wrenchingly adorable smile on his lips.
“It was amazing, sweetheart!” She cheered, bending down so she could hug the boy. She caught his face with her hands and left, one, two, three kisses on his cheek.
“Mama, why do you always kiss us so much?” The boy complained, with a little giggle nonetheless.
“Because I just love you both so, so much!”
“How much?” Trystan teased her.
“Like this much!,” Myria took the toddler by the armpits and threw him into the air.
Trys giggled in delight as his mother caught him back, and hugged her head with his little arms. He suddenly turned his smile into a scowl, and stared at her with seriousness.
“Can we bring Max next time?” He asked.
“He’s far too young to be here, sweety.” She explained. “Maybe when he is older.”
“But his egg will hatch in no time, I know it!”
“We’ll see about that.” She smiled. She lifted her gaze towards Aemond, and catched him staring at her, lovingly. He wasn’t one to show affection like that so openly, so Myria guessed he must’ve been too distracted indeed. And then her mind, already wired to participate in Aemond’s game, realised his distraction provided her with a chance at coming back at him.
Myria noticed Trystan had dropped one of Rhaexar’s chains, and slowly bent down more to grab it, knowing the dress would hug her in all the right places. She placed the chain on Trystan’s hand, and instructed the boys to guide their dragon towards the dragonkeepers.
Myria turned around, and looked at Aemond with a smirk on her lips. Her husband simply stared at her, lips drawing into a fine line, “Hm,” and then raised his voice. “Boys!” He yelled. “Go with Yago, he’ll take you back to the castle.” He then placed a hand on Myria’s back, and softly pushed her towards the exit. “Your mother seems to be the one in need of a few lessons on how to behave in front of a dragon.” He added, with a whisper.
Myria couldn’t help but giggle, as she placed a hand over her mouth, heart fluttering like a teenager’s who is about to flee away with the boy she likes to give him a kiss. Little did she know Aemond had much more than a kiss in mind.
“Where are we going?” She laughed, as Aemond attentively guided her through a rough path in the mountain.
“You’ll see.” He replied, tightening his grip on her abdomen, making sure she wouldn’t do as much as tripping under his hold.
A few minutes later, they were reaching a cliff near Rhaenys’ Hill, where Vaghar liked to nest, since she was much too big for the dragonpit. A gasp escaped her lips as they approached her, feet coming to a halt, and Aemond turned around with a cocky smile on his face.
“Are you scared?”
“I—It’s just been so long since I last went for a ride with you.”
“She won’t hurt you.” He reassured her, holding her hand. “Now come on, it’ll be fine.”
Vaghar lifted her head in curiosity as they got close to her, but there were no aggressive gestures in her whatsoever.
“Gīda, Vaghar.” Aemond called, placing a hand close to the dragon’s mouth. He then turned towards Myria, who had remained a few, safe steps away, and extended a hand towards her.
Myria took a hold of it, and cautiously walked towards the dragon. The beast let out a timid growl as she laid a hand on her.
“Told you,” Aemond grinned, “she still likes you.”
“Nyke hae ao tolī, Vaghar.” She smiled, confidently stroking the dragon’s scales. No matter how many times she saw the beast, Myria would never grow past the feeling of utter astonishment. Vaghar was magnificent.
Aemond let them bond for a bit, before grabbing Myria’s waist to help her mount her. She climbed her with a strong hold, with Aemond following closely from behind, resting a hand on her back just in case. They reached the top, and he positioned himself behind Myria, and helped her get settled. He grabbed her hips, and pulled her as close to him as their bodies allowed them to, pressing her back against his chest. He let his fingers linger around her body for much more time than he needed to, which made Myria’s cheeks flush in arousal, a gesture that thankfully went unnoticed by him.
Aemond rested his chin on her shoulders, and brought his lips to her ear. “You say it.” He whispered, lusciously licking his lips.
Myria slightly tilted her head towards him, confused. She caught a glance of his gaze, eye laced with lust, before he stretched his arm to grab her chin, forcing her to face forward. “Hm. As you heard.”
Myria cleared her throat, and spoke with a small voice. “S—sōvegon, Vaghar.” But the dragon didn’t move.
“Louder, ñuha ābrazȳrys.” He whispered, as his hot breath on her nape sent a rill of heat between her thighs. “I want to hear you screaming.”
“Sōvegon, Vaghar!” She commanded, this time with strength on her cords. The dragon shifted below them, like an island coming out of the sea, and after a few large leaps, she jumped into the void, as her gigantic wings stretched across the sky. With a holt, Vaghar faced above, and started flying into the clouds.
Myria was sure she would’ve fallen straight into the ocean, if it weren’t for Aemond’s strong grip around her chest. She closed her eyes in fear, as Vaghar roared towards the sun. Once the initial shock passed, Myria dared to open her eyes, and turned around to find Aemond chuckling against her shoulder. By the Gods, he just loved riding on Vaghar with her.
She joined him in his laughter, as the wind and droplets of water against her face reminded her once again how much she enjoyed flying, few things in the world could compare to the feeling of freedom she found up there. Myria sighed in content as Vaghar finally stretched across the clouds, and lowered her pace, as she started hovering under the sun. She fixed her gaze nowhere in particular, enjoying the feeling of nothingness around her. No noises, no heaviness, no sights beyond the endless sky, just her husband behind her.
Myria shifted on her place, to get closer to him, and had to swallow down a moan when she felt his very obvious arousal against her ass. She unclenched one of her hands from the dragon’s mount, and placed it on Aemond’s leg. She then lifted her other arm, and caressed Aemond’s cheek with her fingers. She shifted her face so she would leave a peck on his lips, but that wasn’t enough for him. No. Dragonriding always gave him an appetite.
He hungrily took on her lips, biting on them, occasionally kissing her neck as well. On a bold move, he unclasped the one hand he was using to hold the reins, to rub against her bare arms. His touch went higher, and then lower, as he snuck a hand through the opening on her chest, and softly started trailing her collarbone, down to her breasts.
“Aemond…” she whined, closing her eyes at his touch, and placed her hand above her dress, just on top of Aemond’s, forcing him to tighten his grasp on her body.
“What is it?” he implored, letting go of her mouth, leaving wet kisses all around her nape and shoulders, “Show me what you want, my love.”
Myria snatched his hand from her chest, and guided below the fabric of her dress, towards her thighs, against the wetness in between. That was all Aemond needed to decide they should cut their flight short.
• • •
Aemond kicked the door to their shared room open, as he carried Myria in his arms. He dropped her gently on the bed, and leaned above her. He greedily kissed on her neck, leaving red marks all around it, until he found her lips again. Her smell was intoxicating for him, and she was warm, so damn warm. Myria brought her hands to the back of his head and hastily removed his eyepatch, throwing it into oblivion.
“There,” she nodded, out of breath. Aemond muffled a roar with her lips, pressing down on them, feeling as though he simply couldn’t have enough of her.
Invigorated by her gesture, Aemond grabbed one of her legs and started raising until it harshly pressed against his back, urging her to pull him closer. He didn’t remove his hand from it, instead, he started trailing it down her leg back to the hem of her dress.
With one hand, he tore the frail fabric of her dress, as she worked on removing his shirt. She whined in sheer deprivation as his hand finally reached her cunt, and she dug her nails into the skin on his back. His muscles tightened at her touch, as the sweet, electrifying pain brought a smirk to his lips.
“Do you want me, my sweet wife?” He grinned, as a malicious smile claimed his lips.
“Mmm.” She whimpered, biting down on her swollen, flushed lips.
“How much so?” He teased her.
“Please, Aemond…” She whined. In any other time, he would’ve enjoyed teasing her more, tormenting her until she pleaded, praying to the Gods for him, but that would’ve tormented him just the same.
To say that he had been yearning for this moment would be an understatement. He had been a gentleman, thoughtful of his wife and what her body went through for their child, but he would’ve been lying if he said he hadn’t thought about having her for moons now.
“As you wish.” He kissed her, eager to feel her moans on his lips, as he introduced two fingers between her tight, wet walls.
“Oh, Gods…” Myria cried.
“Not a God,” he smirked, “just your adoring husband.”
As always, Aemond made sure his wife’s pleasure was attended to, before he even started to think about his. After a loud sob left her lips as she reached her orgasm, he started to undo his belt, while taking her lips with his once more.
Myria noticed her husband undressing, and hummed in pleasure as she caught a glimpse of the enlarged shape under his clothes. She stretched her hands to help him get rid of his pants, and he couldn't help but to groan, as his jaw clenched in desire.
He hastily started to tear the rest of her dress, and at first she was helping him do so, until she changed her mind.
“Wait, Aemond,” she said out of breath, “you shouldn’t…”
“What is it?”
“I—I just don’t…”
“Are you in pain?” He asked, concerned, resting both his hands on the mattress, as he stared deeply into her.
“No, no, not at all it’s just…” she lowered her gaze in embarrassment, “my body has changed since the baby, Aemond. I’ve got… scars around my belly…”
Aemond lowered himself to leave a sweet kiss on her lips, and delicately kept on opening her dress, as a shameful blush covered her cheeks. He threw the dress away, and stared into her eyes with a loving expression, before reaching down to kiss the marks on her stomach.
“You always tell me I should wear my scar with pride,” he hummed, “you should do the same. They’re marks of courage, marks that you’ve carried my dragons. I cherish them with awe, Myr.”
She sighed in adoration as he bent to kiss her lips, low enough that she felt his hard cock press against her thigh. She whined at the feeling, and pushed his hips even closer to her.
“Please, Aemond…” Myria whined, and her voice was like honey to his ears. So warm and sweet, he had to bite down on his lips to avoid a loud groan from escaping them.
“What do you want, my love?” He cocked his head, voice raspy.
“You,” she whined, as her lips turned into a pleading pout, “I need you, Aemond, now.”
He simply groaned in response, too aroused to mumble any words but a grunt. Aemond grinned at her, and gently opened her legs, so he could slide into her.
The moan that left her lips as he entered her, sent shivers of embarrassment to her face, and a shameful, burgundy blush covered her cheeks, as she was sure no honourable lady should ever make such a sound. Myria opened her eyes to stare at him, foolishly expecting to find a grim on his face. Quite the contrary. If only, her obvious, almost irrational yearning for him had but managed to make him even more aroused, were that even possible.
“Had I known you were this needy for me…” He grinned at her, as another loud sob escaped her lips. “Your unsatisfaction falls on me like as veil of shame, my lady. Don’t ever let me leave you this unattended.”
Myria pressed her leg even harder against his back, forcing his hips closer to her, which managed to snatch that oh so provoking smirk away from his lips, his usually vexed expression softening in utter bliss, as he muffled a moan against her neck.
“D— did you miss me?” She somehow managed to ask, deciding it was her turn to taunt him.
“I couldn’t possibly find the words to express how much.” He hummed, letting a groan escape his lips each time he thrusted into her.
“Then show me.”
Aemond's pace came to a halt, and a cry escaped her lips. Gods, she shouldn’t have gotten so cocky.
“My sweet wife…” he teased her, out of breath, pushing himself inside her in an agonisingly slow motion, “I couldn’t possibly show you how much so and remain a gentleman by the end of it.”
“T— thank the Gods I didn’t marry a gentleman, then” she grinned with difficulty.
Aemond tilted his head, overcome with devotion at the sight of his wife’s mien. Her cheeks, covered in the sweetest, most shameful blush; her brown eyes, wrinkled in pleading under her frowned eyebrows; lips, pressed in an insolent pout.
Had Aemond truly been the root of such a display of imploring, then by all means declare the game over, for she was the winner. He was forever hers.
• • •
How long he had spent claiming her dignity, Myria couldn’t possibly tell. The only thing clear on her mind, as she felt her husband’s heartbeat against her lips, was how much indeed she loved him.
She loved what a great father he was, despite how neglected he had been by his own as a child; she loved his sapphire eye and the butterflies such sight brought to her gut every time she got a glimpse of it; she loved how mean and taunting he was towards everyone except for her; she loved how sharp his features were, and how soft they became when he looked at her; she loved how much he couldn’t say he loved her, so he always made sure to express such feeling with actions. She so deeply loved him, she felt as if she could burst out of it. If feeling so flamingly were a sin, then she prayed to the Gods they took mercy on her soul.
And so Myria turned around, and sat on his lap, pressing her breasts against his bare chest, her lips against his own.
“I love you,” she whispered, in a serious voice, staring deep into his eye, “I love you so much, thinking about what might have happened if your father hadn’t suggested we get married always manages to bring me to tears. I can’t live without you, Aemond.”
Aemond couldn’t but stare back at her, knowing his gaze matched his wife’s, loving and full of adoration. He felt as though his body was being torn open. His whole life he had succeeded in keeping such a thing locked, key thrown into the ocean, to where no soul could reach. But Myria had somehow managed to make her way through it; and he felt entirely defenceless to her. Every smile, every laughter, every touch, every word that came from her pierced through his chest, leaving his heart in the open, all for her to take if she desired so.
She didn’t want a world without him, but the inverse cut his ability to breathe. He couldn’t live without her.
“We will always burn together.” He promised her, kissing her knuckles. “Avy jorrāelan, my Myr.”
That wasn’t the first time Myria had heard him dedicate her such words in Valyrian, but that was the first time she could tell, without a single doubt, what they meant. She grabbed his head with both her hands, and left a kiss on his lips, sealing their promise.
****
a/n: okay so smut is not my fort at all so i hope this wasn't too bad ahah. i didn't really do a proof read so it might get slightly edited within some days. as always, thank you so much for reading!
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