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valeskafics · 5 months

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"I Will Always Find You" - Dark Prince Charming!Aemond Targaryen x Cinderella!Reader

a/n: a little thank you for 9k. love you all so much 🩷

Summary: Aemond falls in love with you, the mystery girl from the ball held in his honor who does not want to be found.

TW: extremely dubious consent, dark/possessive/yandere behavior, profanity, innuendo, she/her pronouns, afab reader, fingering, oral f receiving, heavy overstim, p in v sex, loss of virginity

Word Count: 3,000 words

Rating: 18+, MDNI

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are never required but are immensely appreciated 🩷

When his mother decides that a ball is to be held in order for her second son to find a wife, Aemond is entirely resistant to the idea. He despises balls, the pomp and ceremony of them, having to socialize with people he would never normally speak to, and worse than all of that? The throngs of eligible maidens pawing at him, wanting a dance and a chance at his hand. He finds the whole thing quite droll and stands off to the side, leaning against a wall. He watches as every maiden of noble blood is brought forward to be introduced. Queen Alicent shoots him a sharp glare when he lets out a yawn while conversing with Lady Floris Baratheon, shaking her head at her obstinate son.

Aegon and Daeron snicker at their brother, the former finding his lady wife and escorting her to the dance floor. Meanwhile, Daeron leans in toward his brother, a mischievous grin on his face, as he tells him that he ought to give some of the ladies here a chance, that every beautiful woman in the realm is present and he is an arrogant fool if he does not look with an open mind. Before Aemond can respond, the doors open for a late arrival to the ball.

For you.

And he is enchanted.

You wear a gown of sapphire blue, adorned with crystalline flowers, your hair cascading past your shoulders, moving with you as you walk. You are, without a doubt, the most exquisite woman he has seen in his entire life. His lips part in amazement as you make your way down the stairs. You are not announced, as the heralds have already left. And so, he knows every lady here’s name, save for you. He immediately turns away from Lady Floris and crosses the floor to you. He cannot take his eye away from you.

Aemond bows and you curtsy deeply, smiling up at him softly, “Your Grace.”

The sound of your voice captivates him, so sweet and almost musical.

“My lady…” His voice is soft as well, with something sultry hiding just beneath the surface as he takes your hand, kissing your knuckles over the gloves you wear before leaning in, whispering, “May I have this dance?”

His voice is only audible to you and you reply in a breathless murmur, “Of course, my prince.”

Aemond leads you out onto the dance floor, holding you close to him, leading you in a slow and intimate waltz. His voice is a low, smooth timbre as he whispers in your ear, in truth? It is almost hypnotic.

“You look exquisite.”

You smile at him, a bit shy and a bit hesitant, something that endears you to him all the more, “Thank you very much.”

He pulls you closer, his hand gripping your waist, squeezing ever so gently, “Did you come here in hopes of seeking my favor, sweet lady?”

“Not particularly,” you admit softly, “I… I came to have a night away from my home and my responsibilities. To dance.”

Aemond arches a brow, frowning slightly but speaking with a hint of playfulness in his voice, “You only came to dance? I have trouble imagining a beautiful woman such as yourself coming here, to a ball held for the sole reason for me to find a bride, just to dance.”

You avert your gaze as the dance comes to an end, dipping into a low curtsy, “You ought to dance with one of the other ladies-”

His lips curl into a sly grin as he shakes his head, lifting your chin up so that you meet his gaze once again, “Ah, but I believe I have already found the woman for me. And that woman,” he leans in close to whisper in your ear, his breath tickling your skin, “Is you…”

“I am not suitable to be a bride to a prince, I assure you,” you say, turning to leave the dance floor, only for Aemond to give chase, taking you by the hand, pulling you back toward him.

“And what makes you believe that, my lady?”

“You would not believe me if I told you,” you say, gazing up at him with those eyes that make his heartbeat quicken in his chest, “Please, my prince-”

He glances around before pulling you into a small alcove in the corner of the hall, speaking in a hushed whisper, “I care not if you are not from a great house, or if you have no titles. I have no desire for a woman who is simply beautiful. I know that the woman I have been searching for is the one standing before me right now.”

You shake your head vehemently, “Truly, I am sorry, Your Grace, but it was a mistake agreeing to dance with you. I must go-”

Aemond does not release your arm, his gaze fiery and full of determination, voice steely as he speaks, “I will not be denied what I want. And what I want is you, my lady. I will not let you leave my grasp so easily.”

You surprise him by yanking your arm away and racing down the hallway, away from him. Aemond stands there, shocked as he watches you disappear around the corner, before chasing after you, down the stairs as fast as his legs can carry him. He cannot let you get away, not when he has just found you, the woman of his dreams. He sees you run toward your carriage, stumbling slightly as you lose a shoe. He watches as you turn to retrieve it, only to see him hastily approaching. You leave your shoe there on the stairs before climbing into your carriage, urging the coachman to depart with haste.

“I will find you, my lady,” Aemond calls out, the words sounding more like a threat than a promise as he bends down to pick up the ornate slipper you have left behind, smirking to himself, “I will always find you.”

Prince Aemond is not just a man in love. He is a man obsessed. He vows to do whatever it takes to find you. No maiden he has brought before him has managed to have as perfect a fit with the slipper as you. It is either too big or too small. Not the way it was when you wore it. He spends weeks searching, flying about the kingdoms on dragonback, bringing the slipper to every young lady he sees, demanding they try it on. He uses every resource at his disposal, he does not sleep, he does not eat.

He refuses to do anything but search until he finds you again.

Eventually, his travels bring him to the home of House Tyrell, Highgarden. He recalls the sweet scent of your perfume, like a mixture of roses and lilies and jasmine, and the same scent hits him the moment he steps into the keep. He meets the lady of the house, a stern-looking woman who brings her daughter forward as a contender to try on the slipper. It does not fit her, of course, and Aemond voices his distress with a low growl of frustration. That is when Lady Tyrell mentions another.

A stepdaughter who is in possession of the match to the slipper he holds.

“She is little more than a scullery maid to me,” she says with no little degree of pride, “Since her father passed, she has been of great use to me around the keep, considering we dismissed the staff. Should you promise to arrange an advantageous match for my trueborn daughter, I shall bring Lord Tyrell’s daughter to you.”

Aemond despises this sort of manipulation, and for a moment? He contemplates feeding this woman and her daughter to Vhagar. But, better sense prevails and he nods, giving his word that her daughter will be wed to none other than Jason Lannister, the richest man in the realm. He signs a document stating this with his personal seal, gesturing toward the woman impatiently, wanting her to bring you to him.

He cannot think of anything else but you, his obsession too powerful. You are the only thing the prince desires.

He listens intently as your stepmother leads you down the stairs under false pretenses, claiming that a man has come to discuss the inheritance of your father’s estate. When you see that it is Aemond who stands before you when you reach the foyer, your eyes go wide and you attempt to flee. He manages to grab your arm, his grasp firm but not tight enough to hurt you, pressing himself up against your back and embracing you. His skin is hot and you can practically feel his desire for you, the way he leans in to bury his nose in your hair, inhaling deeply, his hands moving to your waist, caressing your skin. He brings his lips to your ear and whispers.

“The chase is over. You are mine now.”

“Please, my prince,” you plead, gazing up at him, “I do not wish to marry you. I am sure you’ll find a lady far more beautiful, more well-suited-”

He shakes his head, turning you to face him, his gloved hand holding your face in place, squeezing your jaw ever so slightly, “No. I will not. I have no desire for any other woman. You are the only one for me.”

Aemond is determined as he drags you out the door, tossing a sack of gold dragons at your stepmother’s feet. You look to her, pleading for help, but she just waves, a smile of satisfaction on her face. She is finally rid of you. You let out a cry of surprise when you see the massive beast Aemond brought to Highgarden, Vhagar. The mighty war dragon. He whispers something in a foreign tongue unknown to you, which prompts the beast to extend a wing, allowing Aemond to push you along, seating the two of you on her back, commanding that she take to the skies and return to the Red Keep. He ignores your pleas, the look of terror in your eyes as the Reach grows smaller and smaller before completely disappearing from view.

You can feel Aemond’s chest against your back, his cock pressed up against you, making your stomach turn in a way that is not entirely unpleasant. He places his hands on your thighs, squeezing your flesh, resting his chin on your shoulder as he whispers.

“I told you I would find you. And I am not a man who makes promises lightly.”

Your breath catches as his hand moves under the skirt of your dress, cupping your mound, “My prince, I am a maiden…”

He lets out a sharp breath, moving his fingers against you, slow and teasing, a mischievous glimmer in his eye as he pushes one digit inside you, reveling in the little whimper you let out, “We will solve that soon enough.”

Aemond drapes your legs over his, spreading your thighs and giving him better access to your cunt. He begins pumping his finger in and out of you, feeling the way you squeeze around him, how your whole body quivers, your breathing coming out in soft pants as you struggle to hide that you are enjoying what he is doing. He curves his finger, making you let out a soft whine as he begins moving his finger faster and faster.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you, my love?” Aemond murmurs in your ear, “You would not be so wet, so pliant for me if you were not.”

Your lips part as you attempt to deny his claims only to let out a near squeal as he adds a second finger, making the knot in your stomach tighten. He keeps your legs spread, increasing the speed of his fingers, chuckling as you cry out his name and spill yourself on his fingers.

However, he has no intention of stopping there. Aemond adds a third finger, reveling in the strangled moan you let out as he continues, his thumb rubbing against your pearl, watching your face twist in pleasure, the glassy look in your eyes telling him that there is nothing on your mind but him, his fingers, his touch, how he is making you feel. His lips find your neck, his free hand cupping one of your breasts over the fabric of your gown, squeezing the soft, supple flesh, pinching at your nipple until it pebbles. You can feel your second peak approaching, your teeth sinking into your lower lip as he fills you with three fingers, moving so fast you can hear the wet noises as he moves the digits in and out of you.

“Don’t resist, sweet one,” he whispers in your ear, “You know you want this. To be my wife. For me to claim you as a dragon claims what is his. To take your place by my side and in my bed. To bear my heirs, feel my seed spill inside you and your belly swell, your breasts heavy with milk. You will look so beautiful, sweet girl.”

You close your eyes, feeling his fingers brushing against the spot that brings you the most pleasure, deep inside you, spilling yourself against him once more, your breathing ragged as your head lands against his chest, heat rising to your cheeks, your lips parted. His grip tightens on you in an almost primal way, teeth biting at your neck, wanting nothing more than to mark you as his. He holds you against him, capturing your lips in a searing, intense kiss as he continues moving his fingers in and out of your oversensitized core, your entire body quivering, tears spilling from your eyes at the pleasure and the intensity of its onslaught.

“Please, my prince, no more…”

He chuckles, a low sound that sends a shiver up your spine, moaning in your ear, “Just relax, sweet girl.”

You squirm against his fingers, but he holds you in place, moving faster and faster, feeling you squeezing his fingers tight, the wanton cry of his name you let out as you reach your peak once more sounding like music to his ears. He turns you over, staring down at you as a hungry lion stares down a gazelle, licking his lips before lifting your skirt. You stare up at him, trying to close your legs, the sound of the wind roaring around you, Vhagar’s low grumbles reminding you of the precariousness of your situation.

And in a sick, sick way, it thrills you.

He brings you to your peak once more, leaving you speechless as he replaces his mouth with his fingers, making you let out a gasp as his tongue moves in and out of your core, the sensation driving you nearly mad. He gazes up at you, holding your knees apart, lapping at your folds eagerly. With how sensitive you are, it takes precious little for him to make you peak again, the lewd noises and moans he makes as he devours you making the experience all the more sensual. He chuckles, nipping at your thigh before wrapping his lips around your swollen pearl. You whine pathetically, hips bucking up against him as he holds you in place, suckling at the sensitive nub, pumping his fingers in and out of you once again. It is almost too much to bear. He looks up at you, seeing the way your eyes have gone glassy, your face twisted in ecstasy. It is the most beautiful thing he has ever seen as you reach your peak once more.

And when he joins your bodies, it feels like everything has fallen into place. He feels you squeezing around him, your sweet face gazing up at him, eyes glossy with tears. He presses his lips to yours, a heated kiss that is anything but chaste as he ruts his hips against you. You feel him splitting you open, the head of his cock hitting that spot inside of you that has your eyes rolling back, that has you seeing stars and thinking of nothing but his name.

“You’re mine forever now, my sweet wife,” he rasps against your ear, voice husky as he pounds into you, moaning as your walls hug him tightly, “So perfect for me, going to spill my seed inside you. Watch you grow fat with my babe and fuck another one into you. Going to breed my sweet little wife till she’s completely full of me.”

He smirks down at you as you cling to him, your hair matted to your head as you mewl his name. This is everything he ever wanted, everything he ever dreamed.

And though you hate yourself for it, you find yourself craving his touch, his love. No matter how dark, how obsessive. He terrifies you and thrills you all at once as you reach your peak around him once more, allowing him to fuck you through it as he chases his own, his thumb moving to circle your pearl, coaxing yet another climax from you. Words escape you as you gaze up at him, listening to his vows of devotion.

“I love you, sweet girl. No one will ever mistreat you. You will be my princess, my wife, the mother of my children. And one day, you will be a queen. I will never let another man touch you, I will rip the eyes out of any man who dares look at you.” He punctuates each word with a thrust of his hips, his stones tightening as he growls, “You. Are. Mine.”

Aemond spills himself deep inside you with a shuddering moan, feeling you reach your own peak as you squeeze him tight once more. He pulls you into his arms, continuing your flight through the skies. Your eyes start to flutter shut, tired from your heated encounter.

That is until he speaks once more.

“And do not bother trying to run. I will always find you. I promise you that.”

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fallingintoyourlilaceyes · 2 months

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My little winter rose (Aemond Targaryen x Little red riding hood!Reader)

synopsis: On your way to visit your grandmother, you meet a handsome stranger that points you towards some lovely flowers. Little do you know what else that aquaintance holds in store for you...

warnings: slight dubcon, p in v sex, mention of severed body parts, afab reader

word count: 2.3k

taglist: @hopelesswritergall @urmomsgirlfriend1

(If you want to be tagged for a specific character/fandom or in general let me know in my asks, comments or DMs)

A/N: Thank you to the wonderful @slytherincursebreaker for requesting this piece. I hope you like it as much as I loved writing it!<3

Dividers by @valeskafics

For as long as you were old enough to roam around Winterfell and the surrounding woods, you heard the same thing every time. "Beware of the one-eyed beast in the woods" or some form of that sentence. You knew it by heart, saying it along every time it was spoken. Yet you had never seen a beast, no matter how often you wandered through the trees you called your second home. However, it also led to you becoming less watchful every time, thus not noticing how the so proclaimed one eyed beast very much saw you. Grew taller as you did with age until he towered over you easily, his mind darkening with thoughts as yours brightened with entirely different ideas. Going unnoticed day after day after day. Another institution set in place that you remember ever since you could think was a group of hunters going out every night. Their torches burning like the fear in their hearts, sharp swords, spears and weapons of any kind held close to their bodies that would always return marred. Sometimes you would hear rumours that people that died at an earlier date were taken by the beast while hunting for it alone.

You understood all of it, though that didn't mean you liked it. The sight of the hunters was one you hated. It was a surprise that with their viciousness the "beast didn't las out more or come closer to the village. Not even all the understanding of the human mind in the world could have saved you from hating the head of the hunters with a passion that burned even brighter than any fire ever could. Howland Reed and his relentless pursuit of trying to win over your affection by bragging about hunts long over and how well equipped he was to hunt the one-eyed.

"Red! Where are you off to?" He yells from a distance to stop you, as he trots over to you. Cursing him out in your mind in return, you oblige and wait for him to catch up with you, putting a smile on your face as you did so. Even the nickname everyone called you due to the red cloak you wore at every given time, sounded so gross from his lips you wanted to puke. "Oh, I am merely off for a visit to my grandmother." You chirp in the politest tone you could muster.

“Well, how lucky I must be to catch you then? You see, I just had some modifications done to keep you safe better.” He presents you with one of his hands and you see exactly what modifications he talked about. His nails had been filed into sharp points and seemingly coated with silver to harden them, just like claws. The pride in his face makes it hard for the polit mask to stay on yours.

“Say, Howland.” You take a deep breath in to keep it together as you speak. “I have been wondering something lately. Mayhaps you will be able to answer the question.”

“Ask me anything you wish and rest assured that the smartest man around will surely give you an answer.” He makes it so hard not to throw up right then and there.

“You are too kind. Now my question is, if you are as smart and strong and skilled in hunting as you proclaim… How come that one-eyed beast has not been slain yet?” You don´t stay to hear his answer, instead you hide a giggle behind your hand and go off on your merry way.

With the light of the early afternoon sun in the sky you have little concerns or cares about the safety of the forest. Humming the sweet tune of a song that you had often sung with your grandmother when you were younger, you skip along the way.

The deeper you get into the wood, the colder it gets and so, while you wrap yourself tighter into the red cloak, you almost run into what you at first think is a tree. As it turns out it is another human, a man and a tall one at that. His silver hair reaches down to the middle of his back, covering one of his eyes and the other you are sure shone in a pretty lavender hue once. If it did it had since dulled to a darker tone. The creases in the pale skin on his face speak volumes on how hard his life must have been. Yet when he looks down to meet your eyes, there is a charming smile set in place.

“My apologies, ser. I should have watched my steps.” You apologize before he even opens his mouth, looking up at him with the most innocent eyes he had ever seen.

“Oh no, by all means, I am the one that has to apologise. You are not the only one that should have watched where they were going.” The beautiful stranger replies in a velvety smooth voice.

"Please, I insist. If I would have stopped for a moment, I would not have run into you." You reiterate. "Alright." The stranger lifts his hands in mock surrender. "May I ask where a young maiden like you is headed? All alone in these big woods." "Well, for one I am not alone. Clearly." You go to answer with a waggish smile. His grin widens in response and his voice deepens for a moment as he speaks. "I would not be so sure that is such a good thing." His words hold a sense of warning that you swiftly ignore to tell him where you were going. "I am on my way to see my dear grandmother. She lives not far from here."

"My, what a sweet girl you are. Your grandmother can count herself lucky to have you." You hadn't even noticed so far, but when he continued speaking his voice registers almost right beside your ear. "If you want to bring her some flowers, the winter roses are blooming beautifully not too far from here in that direction."

You follow his finger with your eyes, to see that it isn't that much of a detour.

"I will be going right away. Thank you, kind stranger." You turn your head back to him.

"Oh no, I have to thank you." He murmurs. “And you may call me Aemond.”

“Aemond…” you test the way the blonds name rolls off your tongue and then let your smile widen as you give him your name.

You happily skip along the way, giving him no chance for further conversations as you only turn once more to wave him farewell.

While you busy yourself with making the most beautiful bouquet of winter roses and greenery, Aemond goes off with a new plan in mind to finally get you.

The task takes you longer than you would have thought and so the sun stands high in the sky when you continue the way to your grandmother's house. It begins to grow dark when you arrive at the small house in the middle of the woods, so it is no wonder you find your grandmother asleep in her bed.

Gently you shake her awake by the arm. “Grandmother, are you well? I came to visit you." "My sweet girl, is it really you?" The old woman's voice sounds different than normal, though you can't quite put your fingers on the exact way it does. "It is. I brought you some flowers and a cake I baked." You set down the flowers in a vase on the bed side table and sit on the edge of the mattress beside her. "Oh, you are so good to me. Come, lay down. You came all this way and I could not possibly send you home in the darkness." Without any questions you obey her, pulling off the cape and dress until you are only left in your small clothes. Through the thin fabric the cold air makes your nipples harden and so you hurry to climb underneath the blanket.

Once in bed, you notice the long scar over the left side of her face, with the eye seemingly missing entirely. “Grandmother, what happened to your eye?” The words come out dripping with uncertainty.

“Bad men took it, but you need not worry about it. They are not able to hurt anyone anymore now.” The answer does little to quell the questions on your mind.

"My, what big hands you have, Grandmother?" You continue questioning.

"All the better to hug you." Comes the quick explanation.

"And what sharp teeth you have..." Your skin begins to prickle and the air becomes harder to breathe. Something in the way your grandmother pauses before answering, makes the hair on your neck stand up. Too late to react, as you get pinned to the mattress with surprising strength.

"All the better to eat you!" With a swoosh the blanket and who you thought was your grandmother's clothes get ripped away, to reveal Aemond sitting on top of you.

He grabs your shift and easily rips the fabric off your body, leaving you gasping, wide eyed and unable to cover yourself as he still pins your wrists above your head with one if his large, strong hands.

The cold air, that streams in through the cracks in the window frame, has your nipples harden even further, until they stand painfully against the heat of your admirers’ chest. Instinctively you lean further into him to catch more of his warmth. Aemonds hard cock presses between your folds, twitching against your entrance, to collect some of the juices that flowed between your thighs.

“Will you be a good girl if I let you go now?” He growls lowly into your ear, eliciting a quiet but eager nod from you.

Slowly the pressure around your wrists vanishes to come down to hold you by the hips. Aemond leans down to capture your lips with his. The slow, but nonetheless passionate nipping at each other’s mouths gives the perfect way for him to express every last bit of longing and yearning that had coursed through the blond’s body ever since he first laid his eye on you. The kiss deflects your attention from the way Aemond rubs his erection against your dripping centre until he has buried himself entirely in it. His tip nearly kisses your cervix and the way your cunt adjusts to his form makes your entire nervous system burst into flames. The flames lick only higher as Aemond absolutely ravages you, rutting into you with inhumane pace and without abandon. It seems he fucks deeper into your tight channel with every thrust, that is accompanied by breathily whispered praise of how long he had waited for this moment and how well you took him. Every once in a while, when a pained whimper leaves your lungs, he kisses your forehead, rubs a few circles with his thumbs into your hipbone and shushes you in the most loving tone anyone had ever used on you beside your family. Yet Aemond doesn´t slow down. Not until you are first to reach your peak and he had made sure to shoot his seed so deep into your core it was sure to take.

Aemond slides out of your sensitive cunt and sits back to catch his breath.

“Are you alright?” he inquires short of breath.

“I am. Perhaps I will be a bit sore for the next few days.” You jested back with a raw voice.

“Ah, my apologies. I simply found myself unable to hold back any longer. I have been watching you for so long, my little winter rose. Imagining how it would be to touch you, to claim you, to finally take you as my wife in the face of the seven…” The one-eyed man sheepishly rubs his neck as he confesses to his desires.

Desires that make your face feel like it is on fire once more and your brain is entirely empty. “Is that the truth?”

“I could never lie to you about the graveness of my affections towards you.” Gently, Aemond takes one of your hands into his and presses a kiss to the palm of it.

“Oh, Aemond…” You melt at the show of affection. “I wished nothing more than to be able to be with you for the rest of our days, but I fear it is not possible. For my parents have already promised me to another.”

“Worry not. I have already taken care of that.” The blond stands up to offer his solution to the issue. A severed hand lands between your legs on the bed.

You gasp and raise your eyebrows, but before any question can claw its way out of your lungs, the sharpened silver nails catch your attention. It was Howlands hand that lay there presented to you as if it was a trophy. However, it does not disturb you. On the contrary, it makes you feel strangely appreciated, that someone would go so far as to secure you being with them.

“How dare that son of a whore go after my wife.” Aemond growls and his forehead lays into deep creases.

Careful not to kick around the severed body part, you stand up as well now, stalking over to Aemond on mildly trembling legs. When you reach him one hand goes to his shoulder for stability and the other rises to his face to run the thumb over the space between his eyebrows until it is even again.

“There is no reason to get angry about him anymore. My heart never belonged to him, but it will forever belong to you.” The two of you share one more kiss. This one much more slow, but just as emotional, to seal your future together.

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