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Ummmm stop this was soooooo good!

Object of Desire (1/3)

[ dark • Aemond x Arryn • widow female ]

[ warnings: dubcon, hate sex, sex content, smut, angst, domination, violence, swearing, humiliation, hard chauvinism ]

[ description: Aemond is forced to marry a widow from House Arryn as part of the alliance and support of his brother in the war against the Black faction. This story is an Anon Request, sorry it took me so long. I know anon wanted it to be a softer and sweeter story, but it didn't fit Aemond's character and what I think would be going on in his head. The female character has a specific eye and hair color. Lots of humiliation, violence and chauvinism. ]

Part 2 − Object of Despair Part 3 − Object of Delight Epilogue

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

My other works: Masterlist

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He thought the greatest humiliation of his life was behind him when he lost an eye, when his brother and nephews gave him a pig instead of a dragon. He thought that now that he was a man, rider of the greatest dragon walking the earth, he would finally get everything he deserved, a wife from a dignified, respected House, and with her an offspring, his inheritance, an extension of his lineage.

He could not hide his expression of disappointment, disgust and bitterness when his mother informed him that instead of one of Lord Baratheon's daughters he would be marrying Lord Arryn's niece, his grandfather, intent on strengthening his brother's position on the throne felt that depriving Rheanyra of the support of the Eyrie, her mother's kin, would greatly weaken her in the ongoing war.

He would have endured this change without a word were it not for one thing.

The woman was a fucking widow.

Already intimate with another man who had taken her virginity, she was worn, marked, like an overbitten apple that now someone had to eat to the end to keep it from rotting.

He imagined in the back of his mind how the court, which both feared and mocked him, would spread rumours that the One-Eyed Prince was not only crippled but must marry a woman devoid of value and her greatest virtue, for no other lady would agree to be his wife.

However, he knew what duty was and intended to fulfil it.

Despite his mother's suggestion, he did not want to see her before the nuptial day. He felt that he did not want to further exacerbate her bad enough appearance in his eyes; he feared that she was not only worthless but plain ugly, her mind empty and shallow.

Although the nuptials were to take place in the noble family, knowing that this would not be her first wedding it was decided that the whole ceremony would be modest, only the most loyal lords and relatives who supported their cause were invited.

Looking at his reflection in the mirror in shame and disgust, at his emerald tunic adorned with golden threads swirling in embroidery reminiscent of dragon's heads, he thought it seemed too refined for such an occasion, for such a woman who could offer him nothing.

He knew that there was no fault of hers in her husband's sudden passing from this world, that it was pure politics, but he could not help thinking that it would have been better if she had died with him.

Waiting for her in the Great Sept, he felt nothing, had not even bestowed a single glance on her when he heard the sound of trumpets, indicating that she and her father had entered the temple and were heading towards him.

As he felt her presence beside him he immediately noticed out of the corner of his eye that she was dressed in a blue gown, flowers of the same colour in her hair, curiosity forced him to at least glance at her and he swallowed loudly as his gaze met her violet eyes.

The colour of the Targaryens.

He froze, feeling his heart suddenly begin to beat faster, unable to look away from her irises, from her long, dark lashes and eyebrows surrounding her eyes like a sky surrounding the sun, unintentionally his gaze studied quickly her entire silhouette and face.

He swallowed with difficulty, turning his head away, realising that her figure was pleasingly girlish, she was young, too young in his eyes to be a widow, her dark hair tied back, myosotis tucked into her curls at the sides of her head, her gown made of some thin, smooth, shiny material shimmering blue and purple at the same time.

He couldn't focus on what the Septon was saying, he only glanced at her again when Daeron handed him the cloak with which he was to cover her, her gaze fixed on him, her eyebrows arched in sorrow as if she was in pain, her eyes gleaming, slightly reddened, as if she was barely holding back tears.

He felt like asking if she was so disgusted with him, but no sound came out of his mouth.

With a stony face expressing indifference, he threw his cloak embroidered with a three-headed red dragon over her back and then took her hand in his, small and surprisingly smooth.

She didn't look at him when, in a trembling, soft voice, she repeated the words of her vows with him, he tried to remember her doing it for the second time in her life, that she was someone else's, warming someone else's bed, but he couldn't.

She seemed so innocent.

They hadn't exchanged a word during the wedding feast, he watched from the corner of his eye her demeanour, her face, she seemed to him absent, sad, ashamed.

He thought with a squeeze in his throat, filled with jealousy and envy, that she was a beautiful young woman, and someone had her before him.

He took a loud, impatient sip of wine from his cup, its tart, slightly sweet aftertaste spilling over his tongue, dulling his mind.

He felt like his head was going to burst.

They both tried to put it off for as long as they could, however, eventually his mother suggested that his spouse was surely tired and should retire to bed.

He pressed his lips together at her words, rising silently, looking at this strange, frightened girl out of the corner of his eye, her face turned towards him, her eyes open wide in terror.

"Come, wife." He hummed coldly, without emotion, heard her swallow hard, she followed him quietly as he left the hall, heading down the dark torch-lit corridors to his chamber.

He watched indifferently as her servants helped her undress from her beautiful gown, slowly untangling the curls of her hair, one of them wanted to remove the flowers from them, but he protested.

"No. The flowers are to stay. Let at least some semblance of innocence and purity remain." He sneered, saw that the corners of her mouth twitched, her eyebrows arched in pained humiliation.

He cocked his head, intrigued that she endured his words and what was happening with such humility.

He thought that if she behaved like this, perhaps he would take pity on her and actually put his child inside her, so that she could somehow regain her dignity, to be the mother of his heir.

"That's enough." He said at last, when she was left only in her nightgown, from under which he could see the outline of the pleasing shapes of her womanly body, waiting patiently until they were left alone.

She was looking somewhere far away, sad, tired, humiliated, her face, although pale, as if filled with mourning, was smooth and pleasant, the shade of her eyes seemed to him more blue in the firelight.

Proof that they shared ancestors, a common heritage.

For some reason he felt some kind of affection for her at the thought.

He got up from his seat with a loud creak of wood, walking with a slow, lazy step towards her, he saw that she twitched but did not look at him, her lips parted slightly in an accelerated breath, betraying her nervousness.

He walked around her, looking at her as if she were an object, assessing her figure, the shade of her hair, the shape of her face from every angle, she swallowed quietly and lifted her chin, looking at him with some kind of challenge, a decision that she would accept what was about to happen and give him no reason to mock her.

He hummed at the thought, stepping behind her, feeling her flinch all over as she felt his large hands touch her waist and then slide lower, to her womb, feeling surprised, licking his lips with his tongue, that his manhood swelled hard in his breeches when, in some sudden, involuntary reflex, her small hands grabbed his wrists, yet not stopping his movements, just trying to maintain some semblance of control over what was happening.

She let the air out of her lungs nervously, closing her eyes for a moment as his nose sank into her sweet-smelling, smooth hair, his hands stroking her lower abdomen trailing over it in tender, slow movements as if he imagined she was already carrying his child, his reason for being proud and pleased with her.

"This poor man, whose name I can't even remember, died without an heir. Why?" He whispered in her ear, a note of menace in his voice, his fingers digging into the fabric of her nightgown and her stomach, forcing her to take a step back, bumping into his throbbing manhood pushing against her buttocks, he heard her gasp softly, swallowing loudly, her body quivering in his embrace.

"The will of the Gods." She replied softly, her voice melodious, warm, pleasant to his ear. He hummed again, acknowledging her answer, his hands again beginning to stroke her womb in an unhurried, tender gesture.

"Why would I need a wife who won't give me an inheritance? Hm?" He asked in a tone as if he was curious and intrigued, he felt her whole body tense up in fear knowing that he was mocking her.

She drew in air loudly, suddenly tightening her fingers on his arm as his hand slid lower, between her thighs, the tips of his fingers began to brush her there with calm, steady strokes.

His free hand rose higher, to her neck, tightening around it warningly when he felt her buttocks begin to rub against his length, he breathed softly, feeling a pleasant wave of heat surge through his spine and lower abdomen, he looked down at his fingers between her thighs, even through the material feeling the moisture leaking through it.

"A wife is a gift. Like a sword, a book or a horse." She cooed softly, responding with a rocking of her hips to the touch of his fingers, he involuntarily chuckled at her words, charmed that she understood exactly his approach, that her mind was not obscured by bottomless female fantasies, but stood in reality.

"Why would I need a chipped sword, an empty book, or a blind horse?" He asked lowly, his hand from her neck moved higher, his fingers cupped her cheeks, forcing her to turn her head towards him, to look at him, her violet eyes misty, bright, beautiful.

She smiled and giggled softly, startling him completely, bringing him out of his thoughts.

"It's amusing to hear you speak about blindness, husband. I hope the lack of your eye doesn't bother you anymore." She whispered with a satisfaction that made him snort in fury, she squealed quietly and closed her eyes as his fingers dug into her cheeks and shook her, as if he wanted her to come to her senses and remember who she was standing in front of.

"You are nothing, whore. Do you understand? Nothing. A worn-out cup to be filled with seed. I don't have an eye, but I do have a fucking dignity that my mother deprived me of by forcing me to marry a creature like you." He hissed, shaking her head violently once in a while, wanting it to get into her little empty head what he had just said.

She looked at him with hatred, her gaze seeming darker, more dangerous to him, her tongue hitting her palate with a quiet click of her saliva as she whispered a single word in his direction.

"Pathetic."

He didn't even know when his hand tightened in her hair, slamming her head against the table that stood in front of them forcing her to lean forward with a violent gesture, she squirmed loudly and cried out, clenching her fingers on the tabletop as she tried to catch her balance, he kicked her ankle with his foot forcing her to spread her thighs wider.

"You like it rough, hm? You find yourself better at being a whore than a wife? Very well then." He growled, his free hand undoing the buckles of his tunic, untying his breeches quickly, releasing his throbbing erection, giving it a few sure squeezes at the base, for some reason what was happening, their quick, rapturous breaths aroused him even more.

"Fucking male pride. Take what you want, you won't break me." She hissed with such hateful envy that he chuckled out loud, somehow impressed by how brazen she was.

"There's a little dragon burning inside you, isn't it? We shall see. I'm a man full of patience." He sneered, lifting her chemise up in an impatient motion, exposing what was between her thighs, her entrance glistening with her moisture.

She pressed her lips together, struggling to hold back the sound of discomfort as he pushed against her, forcing the fat, pink head of his cock between her tight walls, he sighed heavily, feeling how wonderfully she clenched around him on all sides, hot and surprisingly soft.

"− fuck −" He gasped out, spreading her thighs wider with his leg, she cried out loudly as he sank all the way into her with one sure thrust, her fleshy muscles clenching around him in panic.

They both began panting loudly as, in some subconscious, natural reflex, he began to pound into her with the impatient, aggressive stabs of his hips.

"− fucking whore −" He growled angrily, clamping his hand painfully tight on her hair, her mouth parted wide in a helpless moan as he suddenly quickened his pace, looking down, feeling a wonderful thrill of elation at the sight of his manhood opening her slick folds wide again and again with deep, brutal thrusts of his hips.

"− bastard −" She cried out, responding however to the pushes of his hips with a fierceness from which his voice stuck in his throat, he was no longer sure, groaning low with pleasure, feeling the way her walls squeezed him wonderfully, sucking him inside, whether what they were saying was true or just a test of strength and dominance, an attempt to establish who would have the last word.

"− shut the fuck up − to think you still have the strength to babble − shall I put it in your mouth so you'll finally be quiet? −" He snorted through clenched teeth, gripping his free hand over the soft, smooth skin of her firm buttocks, slamming into her like mad, it seemed to him that they were both moaning and panting too loudly, as if they were in some kind of frenzy, his thighs slapping against her bare skin with a sticky smack again and again, barely sliding out of her.

"− fuck − o-oh fuck, stop −" He gasped out as he felt her muscles suddenly clench greedily against his manhood at his words, intensifying his sensations, he tilted his head back and closed his eyes as he heard sweet, loud moans of fulfillment begin to erupt from her throat, her body trembling all over, she whimpered when he didn't slow down, chasing his own fulfilment.

"− I know − fuck, just a moment longer − shhh −" He hushed her and groaned low, sighing in relief when he felt that wonderful, relaxing feeling, bliss in his mind and whole body, delight as his seed spilled deep inside her, right where it belonged.

His hips rocked inside her a moment longer with her mumble of displeasure, her eyes closed, her breathing ragged, her fingers trailing over the table top as if she couldn't calm down.

"− it's alright − easy − it's alright −" He whispered, panting heavily, stroking her soft hair with slow, tender gesture, her eyebrows arched in pain as she wept loudly, tears one after another began to run down her face, he wasn't sure if she was crying from relief that she had it behind her or from grief that she had to go through this again.

"− I know − I know −" He hummed, running his fingers over her smooth, dark curls, for some reason feeling the need to reassure her, fulfilled and content after what had happened between them, his half-soft manhood still twitching deep inside her, all slick from their shared moisture.

"− I don't blame you, wife − that man was weak, as was his seed − you will soon bear me a son −"

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Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy @randomdragonfires @apollonshootafar

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