summary: an innocent seven minutes in heaven game gives you more than you could ever imagine.
You've found that most of the bad ideas you've been a part of in the last year since starting college usually started with Rhaena, so of course tonight was no exception.
The red cup in your fingers trembles slightly as you sip the sweet-tasting alcoholic liquid, your body swinging out of rhythm to the bubblegum music on the loudspeakers.
You were nervous.
Why had you agreed to this at all?
It was supposed to be just another frat party - the plan was to drink, laugh, dance a little and leave. It was simple.
So of course when Aegon Targaryen shouted that everyone should sit in a circle for the game - childish, in your opinion - Seven Minutes in Heaven, you should have refused. By the way, you tried to refuse. But then again, Rhaena could be really persistent when she wanted to be.
Of course she wanted to participate, she had a goal. Her obvious interest in Luke could finally be put into action – and from the boy's eagerness to participate and the heated looks they both shot each other, he thought exactly the same thing.
But you? You had no reason to participate in this.
The shrill cell phone alarm announcing the end of seven minutes went off, snapping you out of your thoughts. The music faded and everyone settled back into the circle, the closet opening for Jace and Baela to step out - hands clasped together with shy smiles on their flushed faces, the two of them looking like they'd just gotten into a fight with a tiger.
The seven minutes were well spent by them.
Instead of returning to the circle, they crossed to a more private corner on the other side of the room.
"It's your turn now, Y/N."
Oh God.
You inhaled, taking another sip of your drink and exhaled as you reached for the bottle. As you walked to the center of the circle, you realized that you weren't so concerned about who would want the bottle to fall. In fact, you thought more about who would want the bottle NOT to fall.
With a subtle look, you examined the circle.
Joffrey Baratheon was definitely at the top of your NOT list. The man already scared you to death even though he was sober, but God knows how much illicit shit he'd already snorted and ingested today. You got chills just thinking about having to spend seven minutes trapped in a tiny closet with the man in his current stoned state.
Before you reached down to turn the bottle, your eyes met a familiar bored blue gaze.
Delete your previous opinion. There was someone you feared being drawn with you more than Joffrey.
Aemond Targaryen.
You looked away quickly, but his gaze was a physical weight on you. He's been staring at you intermittently since the game started, a blue-gray emotion searing you from where he sat, casually leaning against a pillar.
If you were surprised to be playing this game, you were beyond understanding why HE was in this game.
Aemond was definitely not known for his social skills, in fact he almost never participated in any gathering that wasn't strictly academic in purpose.
But here he was, staring you to death.
Your ex boyfriend.
Aemond. The tall ex boyfriend with the long blond hair tied up in a messy, insanely beautiful bun. Jeans ripped at the knees, sleeveless band shirt, with defined and tattooed biceps exposed. That eye patch hiding the expensive sapphire he kept inside his eye socket. The most indifferent of smiles too. Lazy indifference, a casual presumption, of who knows what power he has. Although he's sitting on the floor, he actually has the upper hand over anyone in this room, rising up without saying a word; like a deity.
And you hate him for it.
Hates him for how much it makes you want him.
Hates him for even daring to stir feelings in you.
Hates him for looking at you shamelessly.
You are wearing a short black dress, on your feet your black boots without heels. You hates yourself for the sick satisfaction inside you knowing how much this look moves him.
You gave the bottle a hard spin. As the bottle circles the crowd, you notice with a certain shy smugness that many faces in the crowd follow the bottle with hopeful eyes - men and even a few women. But no one exudes more intensity than Aemond; the way he stares at the bottle as the thing spins is as if he can just telepathically force the object to stop in the direction he wants.
You and Aemond only survived for four months. You burned hot and fast and when you did, it was a catastrophic explosion that left nothing but ash in its wake. He was possessive and jealous, smothering you until you had no choice but to break up with him.
He was toxic.
But oh god, the sex. The sex wasn't just good, it was the best sex of your fucking life. And when you broke up, you told yourself it wasn't anything special - you'd be able to find plenty of people who could fuck you like he did. The chemistry between you two may have been intense, but it wasn't sustainable in the long run. Better find someone else you could keep the sparks at a healthier level with.
Except months had passed and you hadn't found anyone.
No one stirred half the fire in your veins that Aemond was capable of.
But you couldn't give in, you couldn't allow yourself to start over with him. Whatever reason he decided to play tonight, you prayed the gods would be merciful enough to keep the two of you from being trapped in a tiny closet.
So as the bottle spins you wait, and wait, your heart pounding frantically and a wildly hyperactive imagination that grows bigger and bigger with every stolen glance in Aemond's direction until the glass vessel slows down.
The spin teasingly slows down as you wait in anticipation, waiting to see who you'll spend seven minutes in heaven with.
The bottle is just about to stop when it reaches the boy beside Aemond. The curly-haired young man is already smiling and straightening up, ready to be chosen by the bottle, but all it takes is one sideways glance from Aemond – a very sharp, very purposeful look – and the young man is leaning his body to the side with an scared expression on his face, deciding that not worth buy this fight. You snort as you watch the bottle stop at the space now filled by Aemond.
"Aemond?" Rhaena asked uncertainly, breaking the silence. You sigh and look at her, desperate to tell her it wasn't fair. But of course she already knows.
And of course no one dares to challenge Aemond.
Without a single word, he is already getting up and heading to the broom closet in the corner of the room.
The class collectively holds its breath, waiting for your reaction. Except Aegon, who is smirking as he says something like 'finally, fuck.'
You think it might have stopped working, all your organs shutting down at once in response to the face Aemond gives you once he's standing at the closet door, waiting for you - it was an expression you've seen on him before, in the midst of your fiercest moments. It was exciting - it was predatory.
"Well, let's get this over with." Your voice was soft, betraying the nervous twist in your stomach.
"Ooh, okay, so good luck!" Rhaena laughed innocently, as if she wasn't to blame for all of this. "Have fun. But remember, if something makes you uncomfortable, just leave and leave him alone."
You rolled your eyes, and got up.
Your walk was silent, with something like electricity in the air around you. The jeers of your peers followed, but you could barely hear them over the ringing in your ears. You were doing it.
With Aemond.
He held the closet door open and when you arrived, he bowed his head and let you in first. You squeezed yourself against the wall, trying not to take up too much space – and failing.
Fuck, why was this damn closet so small?
Aemond settled in front of you and closed the door. A darkness fell over both of you, and you could only make out the shape of his body, just a few inches from touching yours. He let out a sigh that felt good against your skin.
Loud music played outside again, indicating that the seven minutes had begun.
You were hyperaware of every aspect of Aemond at that moment, less than an arm's length away, tantalizingly close, with the feel of his cerulean gaze scanning your body through the darkness. His scent of cigarettes and mint, enveloping your body completely, sticking to your skin in an intimate and nostalgic way. Neither of you spoke, neither of you could really see clearly, but you could feel each other in the confined space, your bodies unable to move without overstepping each other's space. You were so close that you could feel the heat radiating from Aemond's body, that constant heat he always carried with him – it made you feel suffocated and somehow, you still didn't feel close enough.
The room seemed to pulse with your combined tension, with words you both couldn't form, with desires you couldn't express.
"I don't want to talk." you said quickly and suspiciously, feeling compelled to say something to fill the awkward silence. It was a ridiculous contradiction.
Aemond notices and smiles almost fondly.
You blush and keep your gaze averted from him, looking at the few tight gaps along the door that provided some amount of light.
You don't think he took his eye off you for even a second.
“Cute dress,” he says, his voice low. You shudder. You shift uncomfortably, which only serves to squeeze your bodies closer together.
You force yourself to look at him, trying to look nonchalant. His eye line is nowhere near your face as you imagined and you follow his gaze down to your dress. Your cheeks burn with more embarrassment, suddenly embarrassed by your choice of outfit.
What were you thinking?
"Talk with me please." he murmurs in his low voice.
That's it. It was happening.
You couldn't help but laugh, Aemond looks at you - you think it's cruel of him to do this to you, to corner you like that in the middle of a game that's supposed to be fun.
"I'm done talking, Aemond. You won't change, this is a waste of time."
He takes a deep breath before slamming his hand against the wall above your head; he was so big compared to you. "Can't promise that, that's my fucking way, kitten...but - but I can try and-"
You shook your head, "You've said that many times, Aemond."
You weren't fighting anymore. You stopped fighting months ago.
"Damn it, woman, if you'd only..." Aemond sighs, before looking at you, "Give me one more chance. Look what I've done for you, I agreed to participate in this stupid shit game, just for the chance to talk to you. You're ignoring me and running away from me...just...talk to me. We can fix this."
It's hot.
That's all you can think of as one of Aemond's hands creeps up your side, sliding down your back to press you closer. He's so hot, his hand is so hot, and the closet is hot, and it's hot outside. A song you don't know blares from the radio.
You swallow hard, "I can't Aemond, when am I going to start being a priority for you? When are you going to care what I think?"
"I've always cared. I'm fucking crazy about you."
"No. No, you're not. If you had any real feelings for me, you'd let me go."
He looks at you intently, as if not a single day has passed since the two of you were last together. As if he still owns you. As if he urgently needs you - here and now.
"You know I can't do this, kitten."
You hold his gaze, blinking and nearly freaking out over the voice in your head that's telling you this is stupid, wrong, and honestly the last thing you need. But god, he was getting to you.
"You...you can't look at me like that." You say between shallow breaths, suffocating from his searing presence.
He smiles knowingly, still staring at you like you have the answer to every question he's ever asked you before.
"Like what?"
"Like this, as if I'm still-"
"Mine?"
You close your eyes and bang your head once against the wall behind you, needing something to hold on to, desperately needing an escape from this doomed situation.
“I-I'm not yours anymore, Aemond. We broke up."
“You're wrong, love,” he says, his voice low, the roughness pulling something low in your belly. "You are mine. You will always be mine."
Your ex-lover cups your chin gently, forcing you to look at him, your lips part as he does so. You are tight here, your legs move until you are and tucking your thigh between his knees. Aemond grunts and squeezes your face some more. You mutter under your breath, like a caged animal. A primordial electricity radiating between your bodies.
"You're mine, kitten, and no matter how far you run or who's inside you as you try to forget me...You'll always be mine." His breath is hot on your ear, his lips kissing your jaw.
You know it's useless to resist, it's a dead end. Every raw emotion, every unspoken word was felt only by the tension in the air.
You break for him, once again.
------
You shouldn't have come.
You repeated it like a mantra over and over in your head.
You shouldn't have come.
His mouth is on yours.
The tobacco, the notes of that glass of Jack Daniels you saw him drink, and that little bit of minty something that always seemed to cling to him. And God, his kiss is like fire. Burning through you until you're hot all over. It's blunt and hungry, his lips claiming yours with raw need. Rough need that makes you forget all about your new beginning. It's like coming home after a long, long, long time away. It's right and familiar.
You shouldn't have come.
His hand is between your legs.
You shouldn't have come.
Two fingers sink into your pussy.
Your back is pressed against the closet wall, one of your legs is lifted and wrapped around his waist as he finger fucks you. Your head is tilted to the side, eyes closed as your butt repeatedly hits the wall. Your hands gripped the expensive fabric of her jacket. The icy metal of the pendant on the long chain around his neck is rubbing against your own neck with every thrust.
"Look at me," he demands, his voice low and husky. His breath tickled your face.
You closed your eyes tighter. The pressure builds, builds, builds. You both should have about two minutes or less before the alarm clock goes off and someone comes to open the closet, you're not going to let him screw that up. His thumb rubs your clit in the same rhythm as his other fingers.
"Baby, look at me."
The chills are back, chills from pure heat.
Your lips quiver as you hips try to roll faster against his fingers. You feel like a rubber band ready to snap.
“Fuck, woman. Look at me!” Your breath comes in ragged pants as he squeezes a fistful of your hair between his fingers and pulls your head back hard. You whimper at the effect the action takes off your body.
Your eyes are open. They were met with blue - soft, dark and fiery.
You need to come, so desperately.
“There you are, princess.” He strokes your cheek gently, as he fucks your pussy relentlessly with his fingers. “I've missed you so much,” he whispers into the air, his brief moment of vulnerability overshadowing his attempt to keep up the stoic facade.
Aemond. He is a mistake. Bad in many ways. A fresh start, this is what you wanted, this is what you needed. Not an old ending. But, Aemond. You couldn't run away from him.
His lips collide with yours once more to swallow back the loud sounds of pleasure that want to escape you. Your body is sweating here in this hot closet, with his unbearably hot presence, fucking your pussy with those fingers like he's been gone for years and misses you more than he can bear - the way ghosts miss being alive. The whole world seems to disappear around you, leaving you and Aemond at the center of this chaotic universe.
A few strokes later and you're coming hard on his fingers, squeezing your pussy around him in beautiful ways. Aemond was torn between looking at the way your walls contracted around his fingers or looking at your face, but it didn't much matter. He didn't plan on giving up so soon. He finger-fucked you during your euphoria, removing his fingers only after you'd calmed down.
As if it were timed, the music faded and the cell phone alarm blared loudly, announcing the end of seven minutes.
Aemond helped you adjust your dress, hiding your body when the closet door abruptly opened and a Luke poked his head inside. “Seven minutes have passed, lovebirds!” he yelled, startling you both.
"W-we're leaving now, Luke." You replied still shakily, before Aemond could say something really rude to the poor boy.
Luke nodded, smirking at the sight of your flushed face and crooked clothes, running back to the playing circle.
"This little shit..." Aemond snarled, turning to face you again, his expression softening at the look in your shy eyes. "I think this party is over for both of us, kitten. Come on, let me take you home."
You nodded, your face flushed, before fixing your hair as best you could and allowing him to take you by the wrist and guide you towards the parking lot.
------
You never get to your house.
------
The leather seat of his Mercedes kissed your bare knees as you straddled him. Your head was light, eyes narrowed as your pussy bounced against his cock. The windows were wet and fogged up and you knew the car was rocking in time with your strokes. The air in the car was hot and sweltering and you felt dizzy, but you were so close...
"Aemond," you whimpered pathetically. "I-I'm going to come -"
His hands flew to your waist, pushing you up and down harder. “Yeah, baby, you better fuckin' do it. Cum all over my cock. Come on, pretty girl, wet my cock the same way you always do. Make me feel at home again, love..."
In and out, in and out, you're struggling to breathe. He's moving you so fast, he's making you feel so good. And he took the lead from you, even though you are on top. The action is so familiar it brings tears to your eyes; you want to embrace it, you want to run away from it...you don't know anymore.
Your thrusts are erratic, your thighs burn and ache as you push your pussy against him, to the rhythm his hands dictate. You see stars, fingers going numb as your poor clit rubs his pelvis into oblivion. Closer and closer until finally you come undone around him. You moan and scream, greedy pussy clenching around his throbbing cock as you milk your orgasm.
Throwing his head back, silver hair dripping with sweat and sapphire gleaming in the dim parking lot lighting, Aemond freaks out when he starts to come in your pussy.
You immediately reach for him, hands on his face, in his beautiful hair, body melting against his as he crushes you against him, pushing you down so that not a drop of him goes to waste. Months of hunger as you devour each other with your lips and palms.
"I won't stop trying to get you back…" He says breathlessly against your wet lips, his lips brushing yours with every word. "So, enough running away from me, kitten...you and me, let's try again."
Not quite a question, but you consider it anyway. Looking into the face of that man who visited you every night in your dreams. Flashes of silver hair, sapphires, and tattoos.
Except this time it wasn't a dream.
"I promised I'd give you the world, and I intend to keep it... let me do it. It has to be you, Y/N." He whispers as he wraps you in his protective arms.
The world around you remains at peace, silent in the dead of night as your name falls over swollen, pink lips. Nothing has changed out there. But inside this car you feel that something has changed; something that was lost has now been recovered. A glistening tear trickles down your cheek and Aemond catches it with his thumb, stroking your cheek affectionately.
"It's always been you, Aemond." Is all you say, smiling shyly at him before closing your eyes and allowing your body to relax into his embrace.
Gratitude shines deep in his one eye as he leaves a tender kiss in your hair. “And now I can give you the world, kitten.”
It would always be him - broken, imperfect and morally grey.
You were his as he was yours.
You had given him your body many times before. He had infiltrated your mind. And your soul?
It was his from the start.
"I love you." he whispered the words against your hair for the first time, softly; like a secret.
Warnings: She/her pronouns, slow burn, angst. Tags will be added as the fic goes along. Angst (come on its me), feelings of sadness and betrayal, discussion of domestic abuse.
Pairings: Modern!Aemond x Reader
Summary: Living with Helaena Targaryen was one of the best decisions you had ever made. Meeting at university, the two of you became thick as thieves and quickly best friends, moving into a flat together. But what will happen when Helaena has to leave, and her quiet, brooding, brother moves in?
Notes: I was stuck in a bit of a writers funk there for a moment, but I think I'm out of it which hopefully means I can start slanging dick from my requests. Also as a side note, abusive relationships are really hard to escape, and often very confusing for the victims and people around them. Anywaaaaay, enjoy! <3
Chapter 11: Scars Of The Past
Work had been something you wished would go faster, eyes cast up to the clock on your wall, watching the seconds tick by painfully slow.
You glanced intermittently at the time on your computer, or the one on the screen of your phone. The day seemed to crawl at a snails pace as you eagerly wished to get home to see him.
Aemond had changed, for the better, and the dynamic that had grown between the two of you had, in your opinion, perhaps gone past a casual escapade.
Cregan had never spent days on end with you in your bed, nor had he cooked every single night for you. Nor had he read to you, or indulged you in your every want and wish.
This was much different to the casual dynamic that you had with Northerner, and the more you thought about it, the more you wondered what you were to Aemond. Did he feel the same way? Was he too having these thoughts today? Watching to clock slowly roll by as he waited at home for you?
Was he jogging to fill the time until you would return?
Did he feel the same pull? The same shift? The same longing for more?
It was something that you clearly needed to talk about, and something that you planned to tonight. You weren’t one to beat around the bush, and you felt that Aemond was the same.
When the clock finally struck 5, and the work day ended, you all but raced from the office and to the train, stopping by the grocery store to buy ingredients to cook him your favourite meal, grabbing your shared favourite ice cream tub to share afterwards as a treat.
You had to force yourself to not skip home, a sweet giddiness spreading into your chest warmly as you sped walked with grocery bags in tow, work bag slung over your shoulder. Your heart raced in your chest as you thought of if he would like your meal.
It raced even faster when you began to roll words around your mind on how to ask him what this was. It was too heated to be casual. Too chemical to be a one time thing. Too high strung for just a month of fun. And you had hopes that it would continue after Helaena came back.
Helaena.
That was another hurdle that you would eventually have to take.
After your talk with Aemond, of course.
When you got to the door of your apartment, you had to juggle your bags to reach for your keys, placing the groceries on the floor awkwardly as you fished around in your work bag on your shoulder.
When the tips of your fingers sought them out, pulling them from an inside pocket, a sound inside the apartment caused your ears to prick up. It was a sound that should not have been there, all things considered.
Your heart began to race in your chest.
But the sound persisted, low and steady.
Behind the door of your apartment, came the hum of a feminine voice.
Your brows pulled together.
Was Helaena back early? She hadn’t told you that she was coming back yet.
Something uncomfortable settled in your gut.
You pushed your keys in the door and opened it slowly, careful to not make noise, picking up your groceries as quietly as you could to enter, shutting the door behind you. You placed your keys in the bowl, heart sinking into your gut.
You could hear it now, a singsongy purr from a woman and the quieter, softer timbre of Aemond.
You got to the end of the corridor and your eyes fell to the couch.
Aemond’s head flicked up to you, hair tied back away from his face in a low bun, wearing all black with his shoes on.
It looked like he had been out for a run.
His body was tensed, shoulders rolled back and hands in fists at his sides.
Beside him, a woman you recognised.
Alys Rivers sat prim and pretty on your couch.
In your apartment.
Next to your-
Next to Aemond.
She wore a green top that hugged all of her curves, breasts pushed high and forward on her chest, cleavage on show by the low cut of the top. Her waist was tiny, pulled in by high black pants, and on her feet were a pair of shiny, black stilettos. Her dark hair was brushed over her shoulder, long and straight, and her red lips pursed as she looked at you.
Bright green eyes became narrowed, and all of a sudden you felt unwelcome in your own home.
You watched as her lips parted and her tongue pressed into the tip of her canine before she shut her mouth, saccharine smile pulling on her painted red lips as she turned to Aemond, hand rested on his knee.
“Aemy, you didn’t tell me you had a friend coming over.” Her voice was melodic, and if you didn’t know about her character, you would say that she sounded almost sweet.
But you knew it was a sirens song.
Your hands tightened around the bags handles, “I live here.” You grit out.
Alys turned her head back to you, and your eyes stayed on her as her thumb stroked against his knee, his fists tightening at his side, pale knuckles looking paler. But Aemond did not tell her to stop, and only looked at you with an expression you couldn’t decipher.
“Oh.” Alys responded, eyes roaming across the apartment at your furnishings slowly, far too slowly to be admiration, subtle judgement in her eyes, “It’s a lovely home. Quaint.”
Heat rose in your cheeks and you had to force yourself to move, unsticking your feet from the floor. You moved towards the kitchen, sparing Aemond a concerned look as you began putting away all your groceries.
“Thanks.” You told her stiffly, back turned, eyes narrowed at the splash back tiles of the sink.
“How do you and Aemond know each other?” She enquired from behind, and before you could turn to face her and tell her, Aemond answered for you.
“She’s Helaena’s roommate.”
Your heart sank.
Helaena’s roommate.
Not friend.
Not lover.
Not undecided whatever the hell you were.
Helaena’s roommate.
Anger began to rise inside, followed with jealousy and hurt. A most dangerous trio.
You wrenched the freezer open, carelessly tossing the ice cream inside.
Why was she here?
Why did he let her inside?
Why was she touching him?
You turned back to the couch standing in front of Aemond and Alys.
She stood, tall on her long legs and reached a hand out to you, red painted nails like sharp claws pointed at you, “Alys.”
“I know.” You looked at her hand, not dignifying her with your name nor pleasantries.
She was an abuser, and with the way her face fell, the smile dropping completely, you knew the act was all fake.
Alys dropped her hand and stepped back to sit back down on the couch again, using it as an excuse to sit closer to him, thigh against his and hand back on his knee. You watched as Aemond’s eye flicked down to the hand, lips parting as he breathed shallowly.
The tip of her nail scratched against his thigh.
A false laugh fell from her lips, “Bad day at work, I’m guessing?” She smirked at you.
Your teeth ground against each other, “Work was fine. Just wasn’t expecting…” Your eyes flicked to Aemond, wishing he’d look at you, give you any indication that he needed help, but he didn’t, and when his eye met yours, there was resignation in it, “Company.” You spat.
Her pale hand lifted, tucking a strand of stray silver hair that had fallen in front of his face, behind Aemond’s ear.
He didn’t flinch.
He didn’t shy away.
He sat stiffly and allowed it.
“It was a spur of the moment visit.” A small giggle fell from her lips, “It’s been so long since we have seen each other, and I thought a reunion was in order. We have had a lot to catch up on.”
“Have you?” You asked, but your tone was directed to him.
Please give me a sign you need help.
Give me a sign you want her gone.
Aemond hummed, nodding in agreement.
Your heart sank again.
“I was thinking of cooking-“
“-Oh, we’ve already eaten. Haven’t we?” Alys interrupted you, looking at Aemond with a wide smile.
Your lips parted, and it felt like she had dug her perfectly manicured claws into your chest, gut turning.
Aemond didn’t meet your gaze, eye looking anywhere but you.
“I hope he hasn’t been causing you trouble.” The woman lightly joked, hand rubbing up and down his thigh.
The urge to cry reared its ugly head inside of you.
“He’s been the perfect gentleman.” You responded quietly, feeling all hope be sucked out of you.
You didn’t know what to do.
Another laugh, the sound grating in your ears, “That doesn’t sound like you.” She purred, double meaning not lost on you.
A blush creeped across your cheeks, and Alys narrowed her bright eyes at you once more.
Silence settled over the three of you, and you wished he would say something, or show you a sign that he wanted or needed your help, but no matter how long you stared at him, he refused to meet your gaze.
Alys cleared her throat primly, eyes sweeping across the room in mock discomfort, “I’m sorry, we haven’t spoken in some time.”
She was trying to dismiss you.
In your own home.
The anger was back.
Your arms crossed over your chest.
“And?” You held your ground.
This was his chance.
His last chance of an out if he wanted it.
If he needed it.
Alys sucked her tongue, jaw shifting in annoyance as she looked at you.
She thought this would be easy.
“I had hopes that me and Aemond could catch up…” She looked at you pointedly, “Alone.”
“You’re in my house.” You all but sneered.
“Y/n.” Aemond’s voice finally rose from the couch, but it did nothing but serve as a warning to you.
Stand down.
One last chance.
You looked at Aemond, pleading him with your eyes, asking him if he needed an out wordlessly one last time, but he didn’t take it, nor did it look like he needed it.
Aemond nodded at you with a slow blink.
And there it was.
Your dismissal.
Any hope that you had crashed back down to earth, shattering into a thousand different pieces as Alys smirked at you triumphantly. You set your jaw in a hard line, and turned on your foot, heading straight to your room and closing the door behind you.
Tears immediately overflowed from your eyes, sliding down your cheeks wetly. Sharp pain twisted in your chest and stomach, and a sense of shame and embarrassment curled around you.
How stupid had you been?
Why did you feel this way?
Did he invite her here?
Did he want to get back with her?
Were you nothing to him?
The way he had dismissed you hurt. The way he had stopped you from coming to his defence had hurt. And the way she had looked at you in triumph, the way she had touched him, and the way he didn’t stop her, hurt.
You laid in your bed, not bothering to get changed and cried into your pillow until the room grew dark, and the realm was bathed in night. You laid numbly in bed, stomach grumbling with hunger.
You checked your phone.
10pm.
Fuck.
You didn’t want to go to the kitchen, to eat and see her again. You knew that your eyes would be red, that you would be teary and emotional, and you didn’t want to give her the satisfaction.
Not too long after, you heard footsteps behind your door, the steady click of heels disappearing down the hall before you heard the front door open and shut softly. Your heart raced in your chest as you sat in the dark, listening and waiting to hear his footsteps disappear into his room so that you could leave yours.
You listened to the soft footfall as it came up the hall, pausing at your door.
Holding your breath, you sat up in your bed, looking under the door, the shadow of two feet blocking the light from the lounge room.
Time seemed to stretch forever and then finally-
Knock Knock.
You let out the breath you had been holding, looking at the crack beneath in the dark, mind turning a million miles an hour.
Do you go to him? See if he was okay?
Do you respect your own need for space?
Did he need comfort?
Was he angry?
A new thought turned in your mind. More bitter than the last.
Why would he be angry?
He’s the one who dismissed you in front of her, and all you could see was her smug smirk at you when he had done it. It had made you feel so small, so foolish, so unwanted and like a child again, sent to bed with no supper.
Knock Knock Knock.
You stared at the door.
You didn’t know what to do.
You didn’t know what you could do.
“Y/n. Please.” His quiet voice came from behind the door.
You blinked in the dark, feeling tears begin to gather in your eyes again. Time stretched, and you watched his feet shift his weight and shuffle.
Aemond sighed from behind the door and you watched as his feet disappeared from view of the light underneath. Your stomach clenched, and an ache spread further into your chest.
You waited until you were sure that he was gone before you crawled out of bed, stomach pulling painfully in hunger.
You pressed an ear to the door, listening for any sounds of him outside, and when you heard no sign of his footsteps or the tv, you decided to leave your room.
You were halfway to the kitchen when you saw him, head in his hands on the couch.
He looked halfway to defeated, shoulders hunched forward as he breathed slowly. But he had heard your approach and you watched as all vulnerability bled out of him and he straightened, lifting his eye to look at you.
You locked in a stare, unsure of what to do as you looked at him, hoping he would speak first, hoping he would make the first move, because you didn’t know how to in that moment.
Didn’t know how to move forward or talk about what had just happened.
It didn’t help that you felt used.
And hurt.
And cast aside.
And you knew it was more complicated than that, but there was just something about the way he had dismissed you in front of a woman who had done so much damage to him. Dismissed you as though you were nothing. Called you his sisters roommate and not even his friend. Acquaintance. Someone he had spent over a month getting to know. Someone he had spent over a week sleeping in their bed, cock or tongue between thighs. Gentle whispers in the morning, soft smiles in the evening.
It made you feel like nothing.
It was clear that Aemond wasn’t going to say anything as you waited another pregnant pause, so you tore your eyes away from him and continued into the kitchen to make yourself some two minute noodles, meal that had been planned for the both of your forgotten.
You could feel his gaze on the back of your head, heated. It made your skin ripple in discomfort.
Filling a pot with water, you set it on the stove to boil, moving as quickly as you could to pull down a bowl and grab the noodle packet from the cupboard, tearing the sachet open and dumping the flavouring into the bowl.
You felt his presence behind you before you heard him speak.
“Are you okay?” He questioned you, and you fought to not scoff.
Why was he asking you that?
“Are you?” You replied back, turning to face him against the bench, waiting for the water to boil.
“I’m fine.” He said flatly, and you raised a singular brow at him in question.
Aemond’s face remained stoic.
“Why was she here, Aemond? If I had known-“
“-Why does it matter?”
You blanched.
Why did it matter?
Why did it matter?
“What do you mean why does it matter? She abused you, Aemond! I was worried about you.”
His brows pulled into a frown, “She didn’t abuse me. We just fought a lot.”
Denial.
“Aemond,” You said, voice softer this time, “It was abuse.”
Anger rippled across his face, “I wish you would just drop it. I shouldn’t have even told you.”
You stepped back in shock, hip bumping into a drawer handle sharply.
“I won’t just drop it. I’m worried about you.”
Aemond sighed through his nose, “I don’t need you to look after me.”
The water began to boil, and so did your patience, “I’m not saying you need me to. I care about you, Aemond. And so naturally it was a shock to come home and find her in the apartment after what you had told me- what- not even two weeks past?”
“She’s my ex, what did you want me to do?” He asked you incredulously, and you turned to dump the noodles in the water, watching them be swallowed down into the bubbles.
“I just don’t understand why you would bring her here in the first place without even telling me.” You looked up into his eye, and you could tell he was noting the way your own were red and puffy from crying.
His lips pursed and then flattened, “I’ll make sure to tell you before next time.”
“Next time?” You had to force yourself to not yell, feeling anger and sadness swirl around in your gut like a whirlpool, dragging you under.
“I didn’t- She just rocked up.”
You scoffed, “Yeah, but how did she know where you were, Aemond?”
The man stayed quiet, and there was something about it that made you step back away from him.
“Are you getting back with her?” You asked, voice quiet and weak, praying that you didn’t sound as pathetic as you thought you did to your own ears.
Silence again.
You blinked, feeling the sting of tears in your eyes again.
“After everything we- After- I thought-”
“-You thought what?” His voice was cool and even, void of any emotion, as though he had put himself behind a very thick door, lock and key.
“Are you getting back with her?” You asked again, voice uneven, cracking at the end heavily with emotion, thick lump stuck in your throat that wouldn’t go away no matter how hard you swallowed.
Again, silence, though something flickered behind Aemond’s eye, and you watched as his brow pulled froward.
Your heart raced in your chest, “Okay. So what was this then? Was this nothing?”
Aemond’s lips opened and then shut, once, twice, three times before a large sigh came from his lips, “I don’t know.”
Pain ravaged you sharply, tugging at your chest as you looked up at the man. You moved to the pot, straining the water out, turning your face away from him as you blinked away tears.
“You don’t know?”
His gaze was hot on the side of your face as you plopped the noodles into your bowl, turning to face him again, biting the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from crying. The only thing keeping you together, the process and mechanical way you made your dinner.
“I don’t know anything right now.” Aemond’s voice was low, “My heads a mess. Seeing Alys-”
Oh.
A terrible realisation dawned on you.
He still loves her.
A lone tear fell down your cheek, and you watched as Aemond’s hand twitched at his side, arm beginning to lift towards you.
You shook your head angrily, stepping away, swiping up the bowl of hot noodles, “I need to think.”
“Y/n, wait.”
You didn’t wait, and stormed away to your room, kicking the door shut behind you as you sat down, noodles forgotten beside the bed, sobs wracking your body as you cried.
He still loved her.
He still loved her, and you had been a fool to think that what you shared was anything else than casual to him.
At times you could have sworn his gazes lingered moments too long to be anything casual, but you guess you were wrong.
Wrong about it all.
An idiot.
But some of the grief that you felt was for him. He couldn’t see. He couldn’t see how bad she was for him. Couldn’t see how he didn’t deserve it. He was trapped, and there was nothing you could do to make him see.
People will only accept help if they allow it. And you could not force help on him. It was something he had to come to terms with on his own.
What was more, the guilt inside of you had been steadily eating at your resolve, gnawing away at you as you betrayed your best friend by sleeping with her brother.
But not only that, you think you were falling for him.
You reached for your phone, calling the only person you knew who would listen to you.
“Hey scuttle bug!” Helaena’s voice chirped sleepily from the other end, “Don’t tell me you’re drunk.” She joked, and a sad sob passed through your lips at the sound of it.
She was going to hate you.
She was never going to talk to you again.
And you deserved it.
“Hey,” She cooed into the phone, voice suddenly alert and filled with concern, “What’s wrong?”
You sucked in another sob, chest aching and stomach feeling wrought with anxiety, “You're going to hate me.” You cried, hiccup stuttering your uneven breath, “You’re going to hate me so much, Hel. I’ve ruined everything.”
You heard shuffling in the background, as though Helaena had sat herself up in bed, “What?” She listened to another broken sob come from your chest, “Y/n take some deep breaths, okay?”
You did as she said.
“What’s happened?”
This was it.
It was now or never.
No going back now.
And once the words would leave your lips, you would be banished from her life forever.
You were about to lose two people you held dearly to you.
You swiped tears away from your face in agitation, angry with yourself for what you had done, “I slept with Aemond.”
Silence on the other end.
Your heart broke.
“I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, Hel. I’m a terrible friend. I know I fucked up, I just don’t know what to do. I'm sorry. I know you hate me, I-“
“-Hey, hey, hey, slow down, bug. I don’t hate you.”
Your nails dug into your palm as you apologised again and again, the words tumbling from your lips before you could stop them.
Helaena tried to calm you on the other end, asking what happened, and so you told her everything, from start to finish, all the way up until your encounter not too long ago, bar the personal things about Alys that Aemond told you. That was his story to tell.
“I know what I’ve done is wrong, and you’ll never forgive me-“
“Y/n,” Helaena cooed on the other end of the phone, “I don’t hate you at all. Disappointed you didn’t tell me sooner, yeah,” You winced, another tear falling from your cheek, “But I had a feeling it would happen.”
You sniffled, “What?”
Helaena laughed on the other end softly, not at you, but in a knowing way that she always had, “I mean, I always assumed it would. You’re both so similar. You’d be perfect if he wasn’t such an asshole.”
“He’s not an asshole.” You immediately defended him, cringing at your own voice.
Helaena hummed in a way that Aemond usually did, and it made your heart clench.
You heard shuffling on the other end of the phone, followed by some muffled whispering.
“Where are you right now?” Helaena asked softly, mumbling to someone again.
Confused you responded, “In my room?”
You thought it would be obvious where you were.
“Daeron’s just organised a ride and a plane for you to come to the Keep.”
You blanched, surprised, “Hel, I can’t. I have work.”
“Fuck work.” She exclaimed on the other side, “My best friend needs me, and I need her. Besides, can’t cancel it now, the drivers on his way.”
“What?” You were breathless, panic rising inside of you.
You heard Helaena yawn on the other end, “Better pack your bag quickly, should be there in like twenty if we’re lucky. I’ll tell mum to tell Larys you need time off. He won’t and can’t say no to her.”
“Hel-“
“No ‘ifs’ or ‘buts’. You’re coming.”
You smiled sadly, grateful that she was such a good friend but feeling like a burden. She was going to fly you to her, whilst her dad was sick, and because what? You had fucked her brother, developed feelings for him, and he had all but rejected you?
But Helaena knew you too well.
“You’re not a burden, and you need some space right now. Aemond does too, and he won’t come here. He needs some time alone to think of what he wants and process seeing Alys.”
You bit your lip and chewed on it softly, “Okay.” You paused not sure what to do, “Thank you, I know I don’t-“
“-Shush. You already had an invitation to come here anyway, so no time like the present. You can atone for your sins by giving me a hug when you get here and telling me the longer story of what has happened. Not to mention get Aegon out of my hair. He’s been such a pest.”
You chuckled softly. You didn’t know what you would do without her, you felt relieved that she wasn’t going to cast you out of her life, though the guilt still lingered, multiplying tenfold by her generosity.
Helaena stayed on the phone with you the entire time as you packed, telling you what to bring and what not to bring. By the time your bag was full and you were ready to go, the driver was downstairs.
You opened your bedroom door, darkness shrouding the apartment.
Your eyes immediately flicked to Aemond’s.
It was closed.
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summary: an innocent seven minutes in heaven game gives you more than you could ever imagine.
You've found that most of the bad ideas you've been a part of in the last year since starting college usually started with Rhaena, so of course tonight was no exception.
The red cup in your fingers trembles slightly as you sip the sweet-tasting alcoholic liquid, your body swinging out of rhythm to the bubblegum music on the loudspeakers.
You were nervous.
Why had you agreed to this at all?
It was supposed to be just another frat party - the plan was to drink, laugh, dance a little and leave. It was simple.
So of course when Aegon Targaryen shouted that everyone should sit in a circle for the game - childish, in your opinion - Seven Minutes in Heaven, you should have refused. By the way, you tried to refuse. But then again, Rhaena could be really persistent when she wanted to be.
Of course she wanted to participate, she had a goal. Her obvious interest in Luke could finally be put into action – and from the boy's eagerness to participate and the heated looks they both shot each other, he thought exactly the same thing.
But you? You had no reason to participate in this.
The shrill cell phone alarm announcing the end of seven minutes went off, snapping you out of your thoughts. The music faded and everyone settled back into the circle, the closet opening for Jace and Baela to step out - hands clasped together with shy smiles on their flushed faces, the two of them looking like they'd just gotten into a fight with a tiger.
The seven minutes were well spent by them.
Instead of returning to the circle, they crossed to a more private corner on the other side of the room.
"It's your turn now, Y/N."
Oh God.
You inhaled, taking another sip of your drink and exhaled as you reached for the bottle. As you walked to the center of the circle, you realized that you weren't so concerned about who would want the bottle to fall. In fact, you thought more about who would want the bottle NOT to fall.
With a subtle look, you examined the circle.
Joffrey Baratheon was definitely at the top of your NOT list. The man already scared you to death even though he was sober, but God knows how much illicit shit he'd already snorted and ingested today. You got chills just thinking about having to spend seven minutes trapped in a tiny closet with the man in his current stoned state.
Before you reached down to turn the bottle, your eyes met a familiar bored blue gaze.
Delete your previous opinion. There was someone you feared being drawn with you more than Joffrey.
Aemond Targaryen.
You looked away quickly, but his gaze was a physical weight on you. He's been staring at you intermittently since the game started, a blue-gray emotion searing you from where he sat, casually leaning against a pillar.
If you were surprised to be playing this game, you were beyond understanding why HE was in this game.
Aemond was definitely not known for his social skills, in fact he almost never participated in any gathering that wasn't strictly academic in purpose.
But here he was, staring you to death.
Your ex boyfriend.
Aemond. The tall ex boyfriend with the long blond hair tied up in a messy, insanely beautiful bun. Jeans ripped at the knees, sleeveless band shirt, with defined and tattooed biceps exposed. That eye patch hiding the expensive sapphire he kept inside his eye socket. The most indifferent of smiles too. Lazy indifference, a casual presumption, of who knows what power he has. Although he's sitting on the floor, he actually has the upper hand over anyone in this room, rising up without saying a word; like a deity.
And you hate him for it.
Hates him for how much it makes you want him.
Hates him for even daring to stir feelings in you.
Hates him for looking at you shamelessly.
You are wearing a short black dress, on your feet your black boots without heels. You hates yourself for the sick satisfaction inside you knowing how much this look moves him.
You gave the bottle a hard spin. As the bottle circles the crowd, you notice with a certain shy smugness that many faces in the crowd follow the bottle with hopeful eyes - men and even a few women. But no one exudes more intensity than Aemond; the way he stares at the bottle as the thing spins is as if he can just telepathically force the object to stop in the direction he wants.
You and Aemond only survived for four months. You burned hot and fast and when you did, it was a catastrophic explosion that left nothing but ash in its wake. He was possessive and jealous, smothering you until you had no choice but to break up with him.
He was toxic.
But oh god, the sex. The sex wasn't just good, it was the best sex of your fucking life. And when you broke up, you told yourself it wasn't anything special - you'd be able to find plenty of people who could fuck you like he did. The chemistry between you two may have been intense, but it wasn't sustainable in the long run. Better find someone else you could keep the sparks at a healthier level with.
Except months had passed and you hadn't found anyone.
No one stirred half the fire in your veins that Aemond was capable of.
But you couldn't give in, you couldn't allow yourself to start over with him. Whatever reason he decided to play tonight, you prayed the gods would be merciful enough to keep the two of you from being trapped in a tiny closet.
So as the bottle spins you wait, and wait, your heart pounding frantically and a wildly hyperactive imagination that grows bigger and bigger with every stolen glance in Aemond's direction until the glass vessel slows down.
The spin teasingly slows down as you wait in anticipation, waiting to see who you'll spend seven minutes in heaven with.
The bottle is just about to stop when it reaches the boy beside Aemond. The curly-haired young man is already smiling and straightening up, ready to be chosen by the bottle, but all it takes is one sideways glance from Aemond – a very sharp, very purposeful look – and the young man is leaning his body to the side with an scared expression on his face, deciding that not worth buy this fight. You snort as you watch the bottle stop at the space now filled by Aemond.
"Aemond?" Rhaena asked uncertainly, breaking the silence. You sigh and look at her, desperate to tell her it wasn't fair. But of course she already knows.
And of course no one dares to challenge Aemond.
Without a single word, he is already getting up and heading to the broom closet in the corner of the room.
The class collectively holds its breath, waiting for your reaction. Except Aegon, who is smirking as he says something like 'finally, fuck.'
You think it might have stopped working, all your organs shutting down at once in response to the face Aemond gives you once he's standing at the closet door, waiting for you - it was an expression you've seen on him before, in the midst of your fiercest moments. It was exciting - it was predatory.
"Well, let's get this over with." Your voice was soft, betraying the nervous twist in your stomach.
"Ooh, okay, so good luck!" Rhaena laughed innocently, as if she wasn't to blame for all of this. "Have fun. But remember, if something makes you uncomfortable, just leave and leave him alone."
You rolled your eyes, and got up.
Your walk was silent, with something like electricity in the air around you. The jeers of your peers followed, but you could barely hear them over the ringing in your ears. You were doing it.
With Aemond.
He held the closet door open and when you arrived, he bowed his head and let you in first. You squeezed yourself against the wall, trying not to take up too much space – and failing.
Fuck, why was this damn closet so small?
Aemond settled in front of you and closed the door. A darkness fell over both of you, and you could only make out the shape of his body, just a few inches from touching yours. He let out a sigh that felt good against your skin.
Loud music played outside again, indicating that the seven minutes had begun.
You were hyperaware of every aspect of Aemond at that moment, less than an arm's length away, tantalizingly close, with the feel of his cerulean gaze scanning your body through the darkness. His scent of cigarettes and mint, enveloping your body completely, sticking to your skin in an intimate and nostalgic way. Neither of you spoke, neither of you could really see clearly, but you could feel each other in the confined space, your bodies unable to move without overstepping each other's space. You were so close that you could feel the heat radiating from Aemond's body, that constant heat he always carried with him – it made you feel suffocated and somehow, you still didn't feel close enough.
The room seemed to pulse with your combined tension, with words you both couldn't form, with desires you couldn't express.
"I don't want to talk." you said quickly and suspiciously, feeling compelled to say something to fill the awkward silence. It was a ridiculous contradiction.
Aemond notices and smiles almost fondly.
You blush and keep your gaze averted from him, looking at the few tight gaps along the door that provided some amount of light.
You don't think he took his eye off you for even a second.
“Cute dress,” he says, his voice low. You shudder. You shift uncomfortably, which only serves to squeeze your bodies closer together.
You force yourself to look at him, trying to look nonchalant. His eye line is nowhere near your face as you imagined and you follow his gaze down to your dress. Your cheeks burn with more embarrassment, suddenly embarrassed by your choice of outfit.
What were you thinking?
"Talk with me please." he murmurs in his low voice.
That's it. It was happening.
You couldn't help but laugh, Aemond looks at you - you think it's cruel of him to do this to you, to corner you like that in the middle of a game that's supposed to be fun.
"I'm done talking, Aemond. You won't change, this is a waste of time."
He takes a deep breath before slamming his hand against the wall above your head; he was so big compared to you. "Can't promise that, that's my fucking way, kitten...but - but I can try and-"
You shook your head, "You've said that many times, Aemond."
You weren't fighting anymore. You stopped fighting months ago.
"Damn it, woman, if you'd only..." Aemond sighs, before looking at you, "Give me one more chance. Look what I've done for you, I agreed to participate in this stupid shit game, just for the chance to talk to you. You're ignoring me and running away from me...just...talk to me. We can fix this."
It's hot.
That's all you can think of as one of Aemond's hands creeps up your side, sliding down your back to press you closer. He's so hot, his hand is so hot, and the closet is hot, and it's hot outside. A song you don't know blares from the radio.
You swallow hard, "I can't Aemond, when am I going to start being a priority for you? When are you going to care what I think?"
"I've always cared. I'm fucking crazy about you."
"No. No, you're not. If you had any real feelings for me, you'd let me go."
He looks at you intently, as if not a single day has passed since the two of you were last together. As if he still owns you. As if he urgently needs you - here and now.
"You know I can't do this, kitten."
You hold his gaze, blinking and nearly freaking out over the voice in your head that's telling you this is stupid, wrong, and honestly the last thing you need. But god, he was getting to you.
"You...you can't look at me like that." You say between shallow breaths, suffocating from his searing presence.
He smiles knowingly, still staring at you like you have the answer to every question he's ever asked you before.
"Like what?"
"Like this, as if I'm still-"
"Mine?"
You close your eyes and bang your head once against the wall behind you, needing something to hold on to, desperately needing an escape from this doomed situation.
“I-I'm not yours anymore, Aemond. We broke up."
“You're wrong, love,” he says, his voice low, the roughness pulling something low in your belly. "You are mine. You will always be mine."
Your ex-lover cups your chin gently, forcing you to look at him, your lips part as he does so. You are tight here, your legs move until you are and tucking your thigh between his knees. Aemond grunts and squeezes your face some more. You mutter under your breath, like a caged animal. A primordial electricity radiating between your bodies.
"You're mine, kitten, and no matter how far you run or who's inside you as you try to forget me...You'll always be mine." His breath is hot on your ear, his lips kissing your jaw.
You know it's useless to resist, it's a dead end. Every raw emotion, every unspoken word was felt only by the tension in the air.
You break for him, once again.
------
You shouldn't have come.
You repeated it like a mantra over and over in your head.
You shouldn't have come.
His mouth is on yours.
The tobacco, the notes of that glass of Jack Daniels you saw him drink, and that little bit of minty something that always seemed to cling to him. And God, his kiss is like fire. Burning through you until you're hot all over. It's blunt and hungry, his lips claiming yours with raw need. Rough need that makes you forget all about your new beginning. It's like coming home after a long, long, long time away. It's right and familiar.
You shouldn't have come.
His hand is between your legs.
You shouldn't have come.
Two fingers sink into your pussy.
Your back is pressed against the closet wall, one of your legs is lifted and wrapped around his waist as he finger fucks you. Your head is tilted to the side, eyes closed as your butt repeatedly hits the wall. Your hands gripped the expensive fabric of her jacket. The icy metal of the pendant on the long chain around his neck is rubbing against your own neck with every thrust.
"Look at me," he demands, his voice low and husky. His breath tickled your face.
You closed your eyes tighter. The pressure builds, builds, builds. You both should have about two minutes or less before the alarm clock goes off and someone comes to open the closet, you're not going to let him screw that up. His thumb rubs your clit in the same rhythm as his other fingers.
"Baby, look at me."
The chills are back, chills from pure heat.
Your lips quiver as you hips try to roll faster against his fingers. You feel like a rubber band ready to snap.
“Fuck, woman. Look at me!” Your breath comes in ragged pants as he squeezes a fistful of your hair between his fingers and pulls your head back hard. You whimper at the effect the action takes off your body.
Your eyes are open. They were met with blue - soft, dark and fiery.
You need to come, so desperately.
“There you are, princess.” He strokes your cheek gently, as he fucks your pussy relentlessly with his fingers. “I've missed you so much,” he whispers into the air, his brief moment of vulnerability overshadowing his attempt to keep up the stoic facade.
Aemond. He is a mistake. Bad in many ways. A fresh start, this is what you wanted, this is what you needed. Not an old ending. But, Aemond. You couldn't run away from him.
His lips collide with yours once more to swallow back the loud sounds of pleasure that want to escape you. Your body is sweating here in this hot closet, with his unbearably hot presence, fucking your pussy with those fingers like he's been gone for years and misses you more than he can bear - the way ghosts miss being alive. The whole world seems to disappear around you, leaving you and Aemond at the center of this chaotic universe.
A few strokes later and you're coming hard on his fingers, squeezing your pussy around him in beautiful ways. Aemond was torn between looking at the way your walls contracted around his fingers or looking at your face, but it didn't much matter. He didn't plan on giving up so soon. He finger-fucked you during your euphoria, removing his fingers only after you'd calmed down.
As if it were timed, the music faded and the cell phone alarm blared loudly, announcing the end of seven minutes.
Aemond helped you adjust your dress, hiding your body when the closet door abruptly opened and a Luke poked his head inside. “Seven minutes have passed, lovebirds!” he yelled, startling you both.
"W-we're leaving now, Luke." You replied still shakily, before Aemond could say something really rude to the poor boy.
Luke nodded, smirking at the sight of your flushed face and crooked clothes, running back to the playing circle.
"This little shit..." Aemond snarled, turning to face you again, his expression softening at the look in your shy eyes. "I think this party is over for both of us, kitten. Come on, let me take you home."
You nodded, your face flushed, before fixing your hair as best you could and allowing him to take you by the wrist and guide you towards the parking lot.
------
You never get to your house.
------
The leather seat of his Mercedes kissed your bare knees as you straddled him. Your head was light, eyes narrowed as your pussy bounced against his cock. The windows were wet and fogged up and you knew the car was rocking in time with your strokes. The air in the car was hot and sweltering and you felt dizzy, but you were so close...
"Aemond," you whimpered pathetically. "I-I'm going to come -"
His hands flew to your waist, pushing you up and down harder. “Yeah, baby, you better fuckin' do it. Cum all over my cock. Come on, pretty girl, wet my cock the same way you always do. Make me feel at home again, love..."
In and out, in and out, you're struggling to breathe. He's moving you so fast, he's making you feel so good. And he took the lead from you, even though you are on top. The action is so familiar it brings tears to your eyes; you want to embrace it, you want to run away from it...you don't know anymore.
Your thrusts are erratic, your thighs burn and ache as you push your pussy against him, to the rhythm his hands dictate. You see stars, fingers going numb as your poor clit rubs his pelvis into oblivion. Closer and closer until finally you come undone around him. You moan and scream, greedy pussy clenching around his throbbing cock as you milk your orgasm.
Throwing his head back, silver hair dripping with sweat and sapphire gleaming in the dim parking lot lighting, Aemond freaks out when he starts to come in your pussy.
You immediately reach for him, hands on his face, in his beautiful hair, body melting against his as he crushes you against him, pushing you down so that not a drop of him goes to waste. Months of hunger as you devour each other with your lips and palms.
"I won't stop trying to get you back…" He says breathlessly against your wet lips, his lips brushing yours with every word. "So, enough running away from me, kitten...you and me, let's try again."
Not quite a question, but you consider it anyway. Looking into the face of that man who visited you every night in your dreams. Flashes of silver hair, sapphires, and tattoos.
Except this time it wasn't a dream.
"I promised I'd give you the world, and I intend to keep it... let me do it. It has to be you, Y/N." He whispers as he wraps you in his protective arms.
The world around you remains at peace, silent in the dead of night as your name falls over swollen, pink lips. Nothing has changed out there. But inside this car you feel that something has changed; something that was lost has now been recovered. A glistening tear trickles down your cheek and Aemond catches it with his thumb, stroking your cheek affectionately.
"It's always been you, Aemond." Is all you say, smiling shyly at him before closing your eyes and allowing your body to relax into his embrace.
Gratitude shines deep in his one eye as he leaves a tender kiss in your hair. “And now I can give you the world, kitten.”
It would always be him - broken, imperfect and morally grey.
You were his as he was yours.
You had given him your body many times before. He had infiltrated your mind. And your soul?
It was his from the start.
"I love you." he whispered the words against your hair for the first time, softly; like a secret.
Warnings: She/her pronouns, slow burn, angst. Tags will be added as the fic goes along. Talks of domestic violence, talks of trauma, talks of toxic relationships and infidelity, survivors guilt, victims guilt, manipulation, family issues, smut, creampie, fluff (lol).
Pairings: Modern!Aemond x Reader
Summary: Living with Helaena Targaryen was one of the best decisions you had ever made. Meeting at university, the two of you became thick as thieves and quickly best friends, moving into a flat together. But what will happen when Helaena has to leave, and her quiet, brooding, brother moves in?
Notes: Sorry for the delay on this chapter, I've had some intense writers block and didn't quite know how to finish this chapter haha, so hopefully I did it some justice finally. Enjoy <3
Chapter 9: Eye of the storm
You didn’t know what to expect after your argument turned ‘talk’, if you could call it that, with Aemond the night before. Nor did you know how to react when you woke that morning and saw, much to your dismay, that the kitchen was empty.
There was no steaming tea waiting for you like there had been usually, nor was there the presence of your brooding roommate. It didn’t help that when you ventured to the kitchen expecting to see your mug and your tea perfectly made for you, that it was not there, and your heart felt a twinge of pain.
You had to reason with yourself that he needed space. Time. And that perhaps he had taken you up on your encouragement to think about his actions before he went to sleep. And if you were really lucky, which you hoped you were with some bitter spite, he may have even stayed awake all evening, staring up at the ceiling the entire night and was now having to catch up on the sleep he hadn’t got.
But that wasn’t the case.
Because Aemond’s door was wide open, and when you opened the dishwasher to check, there you saw a singular mug inside, the tiniest of coffee drips sliding out of the mug and over the rack.
Aemond was awake.
Aemond wasn’t home.
And Aemond had made himself coffee, and not you.
But you questioned yourself if you would have made tea for someone after an argument. Then you remembered, that yes, you had. And yes, you would again.
But Aemond wasn't you.
Had you pushed him too far?
Was bringing up his childhood something you shouldn’t have done?
These thoughts tumbled through your mind as you made your tea and readied yourself for the work day.
The morning went by slowly. When you were ready, you left for work and spent the entire day biting at your lips and fingernails in anxiety at the thought of when you would come home to the nightmare that you had a hand in creating.
Thankfully for you, Larys was off sick, or off site, or whatever Jasper had told you; you had barely been listening. Barely even been present as you skimmed through your emails and went through the motions of your tasks mindlessly, mind on one thing and one thing only.
Him.
When you got home the apartment was empty which you had expected. It didn’t mean that it didn’t hurt though.
Perhaps he went to go stay with one of his friends?
Or maybe he was out on one of his many jogs? Or doing whatever else he did during the day that you were not privy to.
So you settled for your made up alibis, and slid into the kitchen, playing some soft music, though just soft enough in the hopes of being able to hear him come home, and began to cook your dinner.
But by the time you had cooked, and eaten, and bathed, and crawled into bed, it was nearing midnight and still Aemond had not come home.
You laid in your bed, and stared up at the roof for what felt like forever, looking at the ceiling medallion, trying to ease your mind and not have thoughts of the illusive man that was Aemond running amuck in your mind. But no matter what you did, no matter how many videos you watched on your phone, or memes you cracked a smile at, you still could not find rest.
Sighing loudly, you checked the time.
3am.
Fuck.
Thinking that a cup of tea might help you to settle, you threw back your sheets and climbed out of bed, leaving your phone on charge as you moved blindly through your room in the dark, and out to the kitchen.
The lights were off in the apartment, and only the softest of orange glows from an outdoor street lamp came through the bathroom window. The rest of the apartment was bathed in black, barest hints of moonlight streaming in through the kitchen.
Silver hair caught the light of the moon and thus your attention, and you watched as a small red ember grew in size with the inhale of Aemond’s cigarette.
Aemond, it seemed, could not find sleep either.
He stood in the kitchen, just as sleepless as you, black shirt thrown over grey sweats as he leant against the kitchen windowsill, blowing smoke outside with each drag.
His silver tresses of hair glimmered, reflecting the light, as though each strand had been made of moonlight itself.
You watched as his lips pursed to take another drag, tilting his head towards you as and indication that he had noticed your presence. But it wasn't for you. He did not greet you, nor did he turn his head to face you, staying still as he was, looking out into the night.
With soft steps, you made your way over, flicking on the kettle to boil some water, quietly pulling down a mug, then thinking about it for a moment, and reaching for a second, grabbing some chamomile tea bags for the both of you putting them in the cups.
The sound of the kettle was loud in your ears as you waited for it to boil, shifting on your feet awkwardly as you watched Aemond finish his cigarette, twisting the end on the outside of the brickwork, leaving the butt on the sill.
You watched in the corner of your eye, as he rolled another with deft fingers and a precision that you admired secretly.
When the kettle had boiled, you poured the water over the tea bags, picking one up, to hand to him. You averted your eyes, looking down to where his long fingers held the cigarette in his pointer and middle, wordlessly handing him the mug.
It hovered between you for a moment, arm outstretched as Aemond looked at it. Time moved slowly as he did not reach for the tea, and for a moment, your heart sank, disappointment settling in your gut as the weight of the mug became heavier and heavier.
As you were about to pull it back admitting defeat, Aemond reached a slender hand, grasping the boiling hot mug from its sides, which would have no doubt burnt at his palm hotly. He didn’t thank you or nod his head in appreciation, not that you were looking to see, but instead, he placed the mug on the sill, picking up the lighter with the other hand as he moved to light the cigarette between his lips.
You grabbed your mug and leant against the kitchen bench on the opposite side of the window with him, looking out into the darkness, barely registering the buildings more than 10 metres away.
Anything to not look at him.
To not ruin the perfectly calm moment that the two of you had reached in that moment.
Finally in the eye of the storm.
You brought your mug up to your lips, blowing the steam from the top, the smell of chamomile wafting around you. You sipped at the brew, feeling the heat travel down your throat and settle into your stomach warmly.
You refused to speak first.
Or to say anything at all really.
Not wanting to push him again, to ruin the calm that settled between you, to then end up with the both of you, red faced and shaking with anger. You didn’t trust yourself to not explode, nor did you trust his ability to speak to you in a way that wasn’t patronising.
If Aemond wanted to speak, he would speak, and if not, you were content to sit in this silence to at least show that you could listen, would listen, if he so dared to open his mouth.
To show that you were willing to be around him despite his shitty behaviour.
Smoke billowed from his lips, and the cigarette that was held delicately, yet almost even carelessly between two fingers, was shifted out towards you. You looked down at it, for one beat, then two, before placing your mug of tea down to grasp the cigarette from him.
Warmth spread through your arm as your fingertips brushed over his, butterflies erupting in your chest, but you shoved that feeling down quickly, bringing the cigarette up to your lips to inhale. You took a drag, feeling the smoke sink into your lungs before you blew it out quietly, feeling the rush of it go to your head.
“I thought about what you said.” Aemond finally breathed into the night, voice quiet and shy.
Your eyes lifted to look at him. His gaze was still outside as he leant forward on the window, hands clasped together, elbows on the edge of the wood. He fiddled with the signet ring on his pinky, turning it side to side.
Bringing the cigarette up to your lips again you took another drag, letting Aemond have the space to talk, and also using the smoke as a means to force yourself to stay quiet so that he could say what he needed to say, and then you would go to bed.
Yes, that’s what you would do. Hear him out, most likely another shithouse apology, and then go to bed angry but vindicated.
Wordlessly you held out his smoke, watching as he kept his eye lowered as he took it from your hands, mug of tea in the other, palm wrapped around the porcelain which you questioned if he enjoyed the sting, or the grounding of the pain.
Maybe he was punishing himself.
Aemond brought the cigarette to his lips, inhaled deeply and then exhaled a breath as he spoke, “And you were right.” Smoke curled under his nose as he inhaled it back inside, “But you were also wrong too.”
You let your eyes roam his side profile, his nose long and sharp, lips pursed as he sucked at his gums, tongue rolling over the front of his teeth, thinking of the words to say next, perhaps thinking of how to apologise to you properly this time.
“I am sorry. For what I said to you.” He apologised, true repentance on his tongue, “It wasn’t right, and you didn’t deserve that. I know you’re just trying to be a good friend to Helaena by doing me a favour, and I know that you’re trying to be a friend to me.” Aemond inhaled slowly, bringing up the cigarette to take another drag, “But like I tried to say, these things don’t come easy to me.”
Despite his apology, there was still his lingering attitude in the way he spoke, the words he had chosen. The way he conducted himself, as though he was angry that he had been called out, or that he had to be a better person to you.
You chewed at your cheek, not wanting to respond just yet, holding out your fingers towards him as he handed you the cigarette.
Another brush of hands.
You held the filter in your fingers, turning the cigarette softly as silence fell over the two of you.
Aemond brushed an uneasy hand through the front of his hair, large hand sliding down his neck as you watched his eyelashes flutter, up, down, but never once looking at you.
As though he couldn’t bare to face you.
He inhaled sharply, bare foot tapping on the tiled floor in irritation, “I know you think you know what happened between me and Alys, but Helaena doesn’t even know the whole of it. I-“ Aemond paused, swallowing thickly, “It’s not been easy these past few months without her, not that it was ever easy.” He sadly scoffed, adjusted his weight on his legs, “But she’s been trying to get back with me, texting, calling, and I don’t- I don’t know… I think it’s finally caught up to me what happened.”
You handed the smoke back, sipping your chamomile tea, enjoying the burn that it gave you, and also the way that it calmed your nerves, giving you something to focus on rather than the way that Aemond seemed to begin to curl in on himself, taking every fibre of your being to not reach out and comfort him.
He chanced a glance at you, and stooped over the window, bent from the hips, his eye line was below yours, and so he had to look up at you through his lashes, wetting his lips with the tip of his tongue, steeling himself for what he was about to say.
Aemond brought the smoke to his lips, holding it there for a moment, before he began to speak, fingertips resting over his mouth as he spoke, “It wasn’t always bad, but she was much older,” He shifted again uncomfortably and you mirrored his action, “And I was too young and naive to see the truth of it.”
You hadn’t expected this.
Hadn’t expected Aemond to open up to you about Alys, something that had been clearly affecting him as of late.
Aemond sighed in a breath and you watched as he began to turn his signet ring with his thumb again, eye watching to motion carefully, methodically twisting it in sets of three.
Twist, twist, twist. Pause.
Twist, twist, twist. Pause.
“She was one of my tutors at KLU,” Aemond explained, and you felt your stomach drop, "It wasn’t- it started innocently enough. Lessons here and there, but then she- Well I… It felt good to be wanted. Felt good to have something that no-one could take from me. Not Viserys, not my brother, not- But then someone found out, and Alys said that we needed to leave KLU so that we could be together.”
Your lips parted in shock, watching as Aemond shook his head, taking a frustrated drag of the cigarette, ash falling from the end onto the sill which he swiped away with a finger agitatedly, “So I stopped my degree, left KLU, and went to Harrenhal with her. At first it was easy, perfect. I was so in love with her, but then she kept pushing the idea of having kids, of getting married.”
Married.
Kids.
“At first I was excited,” His eye flicked onto you, a sad smile pulling downwards on his lips, “Who doesn’t want to hear from the love of their life that they want to settle down? But then she kept asking about Viserys, and the law firm, and inheritance.” He spat, “And I knew, I knew that she was using me… But I couldn’t leave. I couldn’t. I loved her.”
A twinge of empathy rolled through you.
How could you have been so blind to this?
“So I stayed, and it just got worse.”
You opened your mouth to speak, to say that you were sorry, to comfort him, but Aemond shook his head at you, watching as the words stuck in the back of your throat, “She started seeing other people,” Your mouth went dry, your own understanding of how he must of felt settling in your chest painfully, “And at first she kept it a secret, but then she did it more openly.”
You had the sudden desire to wring his ex’s neck.
Aemond’s eye narrowed as he spoke bitterly, looking down to his hand again where he twisted the ring more agitatedly, twist, twist, twist, pause, “Would taunt me about it. Fuck them in our bed. Would tell me I needed to ‘man up’ if I wanted to stay with her, told me I needed to be better for her, do better.” Aemond sighed, taking the last drag of the smoke, clearing his throat, “We were together for years, and she was all I knew. I didn’t-“
How could she have done this to him?
How could anyone have done anything like this to a person?
It was cruel. Inhumane. Horrible. And suddenly, the way Aemond behaved, his insecurities about Cregan, his jealously and refusal to let you get close began to make more and more sense.
You watched as his adams apple bobbed in his neck, “I didn’t know how to leave. I didn’t want to leave. Because when she was good, she was amazing. She was everything I wanted, everything I thought I deserved. Everything she made me believe I wanted. But when it was bad, it was…” Aemond trailed off, words caught in his throat, emotion beginning to boil over, "We would fight all the time. She would break things, cuss me out, tell me I was pathetic.” He swallowed again, voice quieter, “Hit me… And I was just an idiot in love who stood there and took it.”
Your chest ached painfully and you felt tears pull in your eyes.
Aemond.
You frowned, “You weren’t an idiot,” You said quietly, “You were in an abusive relationship, Aemond.”
The Targaryen blew air sharply through his nose, “I knew it was toxic and yet I stayed. Hoped it would get better. Waited for her to see that I was the only one she needed. That I could be good for her. Be better. I just- I thought we could be happy, like she promised. She was my first- And I-“ The silver haired man cleared his throat to sip at his tea.
“I’m sorry.” You whispered to him, tears threatening to spill over, “I am so, so sorry, Aemond. You didn’t deserve that.”
“I don’t want your pity,” He said quietly back, ego wounded, lingering pieces of denial and pain preventing him from being more vulnerable than he was, preventing him from letting anyone to see him as a victim, "I don’t want you apologising to me either. I deserved it.”
Your heart raced in your chest, “You didn’t-“
“-Could you for one second in your life not make excuses for me? I don’t want you to- I don’t- I feel-“ Aemond paused, not sure how to find the words, not sure how to move forward, and so you gave him a different path.
“How did you leave?”
The signet ring tapped loudly against his mug of tea.
Tink. Tink. Tink.
“Mum called, told me Viserys was sick, it looked bad at the time,” You noted how he called his dad by his first name, “I didn’t know how to feel about it. I was… lost. And Alys didn’t even care. Didn’t care that my… father… was sick. Didn’t care that he was dying. I stopped my studies for her, I left everything behind for her. Friends. Family. Everything. And she didn’t even care. She just asked how much I would inherit, asked if I would get the law firm. She- she didn’t- she just-“
Your hand lifted before you could stop it, setting it against his shoulder gently. Aemond’s entire body bristled, as though your touch had sobered him up, and you watched in disappointment as the brick walls began to build behind his eye again.
“That’s horrible. Really, you didn’t deserve any of that. Your partner is supposed to love and support you. Listen to you. Be there for you. I’m sorry that you were so alone.” You empathised, “She sounds ho-“
“-Don’t.”
Even in his weakest of moments, even when in times of pain or reminiscing on the abuse, Aemond still would not let anyone say anything about Alys.
The good, the bad, or the ugly.
It was his to talk about.
And his alone.
“I know,” He continued, looking at your carefully, his silver lashes brushing against his cheeks as he momentarily looked down at your hand on his shoulder, and then back up at you.
The way he gazed at you made your chest constrict, “-I know that you probably don’t care about this,” You shook your head and Aemond sighed inwardly, “But I needed to tell you. To explain. I don’t want sympathy, or for you to make excuses for me. You said-... I listened to what you said. I'm trying, Y/n. In the only way I know how.”
You let your thumb rub his shoulder soothingly before you stepped towards him, your shoulder brushing his as you both looked out the kitchen window into the dark of the night, a blanket of quiet enveloping around the two of you, only this time, it wasn’t uncomfortable.
If he was sharing, then you would too.
“I caught Jason cheating on me with his now girlfriend, I think I told you that once. Caught them in our bed together, and he blamed me for it.” You breathed, lifting the tea to your lips, finding your mouth suddenly dry, “It wasn’t the first time though. But it was the last time. I knew he had a reputation but I ignored it. Fools in love, you know?”
Aemond nodded his head and huffed a quiet, bitter laugh.
“He was just so charming, and when I met him on campus, all the girls chased him, but he chose me. And it made me feel special, to have him choose me like that over them. Such a stupid pick me moment now that I look back at it." You scoffed quietly, "I think I was just so caught up on actually being desired… I know now that he didn’t. He was still sleeping with them, but still. I get what you mean about staying, hoping for better. I mean- I obviously- He never- He didn’t physically-“
“-It’s okay. I know what you mean.” Aemond reassured you, and you felt your heart quieten from its speeding pace.
You continued, “But I was never isolated. I was never alone. I had my friends. I had Hel. And if we are truly being as candid as I think we are being right now, I had a family who was there to support me, which I feel that you perhaps didn’t.” You looked down at your mug, watching the way the teabag shifted in the cooling water, Aemond’s gaze on you.
He lifted the cup to his lips and drained the last of the dregs of tea before settling it on the window sill, eye cast to the dark, then back to you, then out to the dark again in contemplation.
“I heard Cregan tell you about what happened to me.”
Anxiety and regret poured through you.
What else had he heard?
“Viserys had always been sick.” He explained, and you knew this already from what Helaena had told you, “Growing up, he was always at the doctors and the specialists, and was never really there. But in all honesty, I don’t think, even without the illness, that he would have been there. He-“ Aemond fiddled with the ring on his finger, family insignia pressed into its centre.
Twist, twist, twist, pause. “He never really got over his first marriage. Never got over the death of his first wife, Aemma. And I think,” You watched him lick his lips, “I think mum was a convenience to him. They married for convenience. She was more caregiver than wife… I mean, he loves her. I know he does. But he could have done more. And he never really paid attention to me and Aegon. Helaena he adores, but even then, their relationship is strained, not what it should be.”
Helaena often told you about her want for their father to spend more time with the boys, but he seemed to never have much interest in them. Not once giving Aegon, Aemond or Daeron the praise they needed, and only ever being cynical in their achievements, stating that they could be doing more, or that they were doing not enough.
This of course led to the way Aegon came to be the way he was.
Aemond chewed at his bottom lip, “A few years back I went to visit him. And mum. Went with Hel and Aegon. Daeron couldn’t come because of his studies. But we went together, a united front, and I just- I had this child’s hope that he would see me. But he was barely lucid on painkillers that he didn’t even know who I was. But he remembered Rhaenyra.” His voice got darker, resentment and anger and sorrow swirling on the tip of his tongue, “Said to her, in front of all of us, ‘My only child’.”
Your mouth gaped open.
Aemond spared a glance at you and shook his head, laughing bitterly, “Aegon laughed, but you could tell it stung, being the eldest boy and all. He just laughed and then drank himself into a stupor. Hel was quiet, and I-“ He rolled his shoulders back, “I just left. I don’t know what I was expecting.”
His voice shifted, brows furrowing as his lips twitched at the sides, pulling into a tight flat line. It was an attempt to not sneer as clear as day, “But Rhaenyra, she tried. She tried to say we were there, tried to explain to him. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her defend us like that, but it was no use. It was too late. We didn’t grow up together, we didn’t have that kind of bond. I know mum had a play in it. And after the incident, I guess it was just better for all of us that we parted ways."
You nodded, knowing all too well about this.
“When I lost my eye, it was an accident.” Aemond’s voice got quieter as his fingers traced the scar on his cheek and brow in memory, “And Cregan told you the rest, but he doesn’t know about what happened after. I had no-one.” He breathed, and you felt yourself shifting closer to him, hoping your presence would give the man some sort of comfort for the words that seemed to continue to spill forth from his lips in an endless stream of cathartic release. Thoughts and feelings that he had told you had not even been uttered to his sister.
“Mum was so hellbent on taking Rhaenyra to court that she didn’t stop or spend time with me when I was recovering in hospital. The only person there was Criston, and that was because mum made him. Hel, Aegon and Daeron went back to school, and I stayed in the hospital alone. I can’t- I don’t-”
Aemond swallowed, eye shutting as he stood to his full height, “I’m tired. I’m going to go to bed.”
Anxiety wound a coil in your gut.
Had he said too much?
Does he regret speaking to you?
Would he go back to being cold again? Quieter?
Your hand shot out before you could stop it, grabbing his larger one in your own. You watched as Aemond flinched slightly, hand flexing before it relaxed in yours. You soothed his knuckles with your thumb, anchoring him to the spot with you.
You swallowed, “Come to bed.” You said quietly, watching as his face moved through a myriad of emotions.
Shock, confusion, anger, and then finally, disgust.
“You think I want to f-“
“-No!” You said loudly, realising the accidental implication, before you lowed your voice again, “No. No, I- Just lay with me. Nothing else. I-“ You swallowed, “I don’t want you to be alone right now.”
Aemond blinked at you softly, his face falling, “I’m always alone.” He whispered.
Your heart tugged in your chest.
You squeezed his hand gently, “You don’t need to be.”
The air around you shifted, Aemond staring down at you as you held his hand in the dark of the kitchen, unspoken words floating around the two of you. But in that moment, you didn’t need to say a thing.
Aemond nodded his head down at you, almost imperceptible, and your heart thumped in your chest as you led him towards your bedroom in the dark, not letting go of him until you pulled the sheets back and crawled in first, urging him to climb in after you.
If it was not for the sadness that permeated around the two of you, you would have laughed at how large Aemond was in your bed, taking up most of one side as he was on. He lay flat on his back, crossing his hand over his chest, unsure of what to do.
You took initiative and curled up against him, lifting one of his arms over your shoulder as you settled into the heat of his side. You let one hand rest against his chest, feeling it rise and fall as he breathed quietly.
Aemond was stiff, unsure, uncertain, as you laid against him, lifting your hand from your chest to brush through his hair, an attempt to soothe the man with gentle strokes and repetition. You wondered briefly if Alys ever comforted him like this after their fights. After her infidelity.
You then wondered with a stray thought, if Aemond had ever been comforted ever in his life.
His hair was silky against your palm and fingers as you brushed your hand through it, nails scratching lightly at his scalp. You heard him breathe deeply, a small groan falling from his lips, the tension in his body slowly leaking from him.
You repeated the motion over and over, and eventually Aemond softened, his head tilting towards you in the dark of the room. Although you could scarcely see his gaze, you knew that he was watching you, only small pieces of light from the moon coming through the cracks of your curtains.
Heat rolled over you as you felt him observing you.
Aemond shifted in your sheets, hand coming to reach for yours in his hair, long fingers wrapping themselves around yours warmly, calloused palm rubbing over the top of your hand delicately.
With your hand in his, he brought it away from his silver tendrils, dragging it down slowly as he looked at you in the dark, moonlight shrouded over his body, just barely illuminating him as his lips parted, pressing a kiss into the palm of your hand. Your breath stilled in your throat as he did it again, tenderly, softly, reverently, before his mouth slid upwards, bottom lip dragging against your skin, goosebumps erupting over your skin.
Aemond pressed another gentle kiss to the tips of your fingers, a bare breath of air puffing over the digits as he tilted his head, pressing another to your inner wrist, right above your pulse point. You wondered momentarily if he felt the way your pulse quickened, blood thumping in your veins against his plump lips.
It wasn’t long until he dragged your fingertips back to his mouth, but this time, instead of the cautious and soothing kiss he had placed there before, his teeth now nipped at the pad of your pointer slowly. Not sharply with unconfined lust, but rather as if he was testing the waters, and when no argument came from your lips, nor objection to his indication to his now aroused state, Aemond leant forward towards your face, still holding your hand in his.
His lips met the corner of your mouth, barely there, yet full of yearning. You tilted your head upwards, to give him access to you, to which he pressed a softer kiss squarely upon your lips. You felt him breathe out through his nose in a shudder, your eyes slipping closed, not that you could see much anyway, as you kissed him back, cautious, curious, letting him set the pace.
There was no rush in the way he held you, sliding your body towards him with a large palm, hand spread against your ribs and waist, fingers ever so often tensing as he began to slowly deepen the kiss. But this was different to your previous times kissing Aemond. There was no malice, no rush, no anger simmering beneath the surface with resentment and confusion of the dynamic between the two of you.
These kisses that he pressed against your lips were slow, sensual, as though time had stopped for the two of you, and it spoke multitudes that Aemond was content to just bask in the warmth that spread between the two of you, his hand still holding yours, thumb pressed into your palm like a pressure point.
It was a side of him you had never seen before.
And you were content to leave it at that, to just hold him and kiss him in a way that he clearly needed in that moment, not wanting to move it forward, nor push either of you to go to someplace that the previous conversation in the kitchen would deter you from. But Aemond was not as content as you had thought he was.
His hand slid down your side, moving to cup under your ass as he dragged a leg over his side, nestling his hips between yours. You whimpered softly into his mouth as you felt his hardened length brush against your inner thigh.
Aemond taking this as the permission he needed, began to grind up against you, lips chasing yours lazily, keeping the same slow rhythm as before, matching the pace of his hips as he ground up against you, small gasp falling into your mouth from his as his hips stuttered.
He skimmed his hand from your thigh up your body, never breaking away from your embrace as he explored your body slowly, making your body out with careful precision. Each drag of his finger over your curves stored into the back of his mind for later.
Over the top of your sleep shirt his hand found your breast, hot air puffed through his nose as he squeezed, a mewl dripped hotly from your lips as you arched your chest into his hand.
He twinged a nipple between fingers, sending sparks through your body straight to your core, your leg dragging his hips closer to your heat as you bucked up into him, wetness pooling into your sleep shorts.
A hand slid itself underneath your shirt, feeling the away your stomach clenched beneath it as it moved upwards, finally resting over your chest. He splayed his fingers across your skin, feeling your heart race beneath his palm.
Your cheeks were heated, and Aemond finally broke away from the tender kiss that you had been sharing. Your eyes fluttered open, blinking to adjust in the darkness as you breathed shallowly, looking at him.
The air around you was static, and you got the sudden urge to pull back, to retreat, that this was too intimate, that you were showing too much of your hand to him, too much of yourself to him and what you truly desired.
As if sensing your sudden caution, the hand that held yours dragged itself down his own chest, his lips pressing into the corner of your lips before he settled your hand under his own shirt and above where his heart was.
Beneath your palm, you felt the same erratic heartbeat that was racing through your own chest, but this time, in his. Your fingers tightened against his skin, feeling bone and muscle, and a light dusting of hair beneath, but under all of that was the undeniable truth that Aemond wanted this just as much as you did.
Bringing your lips back to his you kissed him, both of your hands staying above each others chests warmly as you rolled your hips into his, a soft grunt coming from deep within Aemond throat.
With slow hands, Aemond took off your pants, aiding by your own hands as you slid them down your legs, kicking them to the bottom of the bed sheets where they were lost and would be found later. He then shifted, breaking away from the embrace as he took off his own pants, followed by his shirt, awkward movements jolting the bed that you would have normally giggled at if it wasn’t for the sincerity of it all.
And then you were back together, skin pressed against skin and anticipation buzzing through you like electricity. He held your jaw in both of his hands as he dragged you back to him, one hands fingers curling into your hair at the nape of your neck.
You were lost to his touch, growing dizzy from desire as he dragged your leg over his hip once more, slotting his hips against you. You felt his hard length brush against your folds, your chest pressing into him as you breathlessly whined into his mouth. Your hands slipped around his shoulders as you pulled him impossibly closer.
Aemond tilted his head, resting his forehead against yours.
Hot air puffed against your lips as he whispered, “Is this okay?”
You nodded, capturing his lips with yours once again as he took a hand to drag between the two of you, parting your folds in test to see if you were wet enough, and also to help guide his length blindly to your sopping centre.
Aemond pushed into you with one long and slow thrust, a sharp inhale sucked into the both of your chests, mouths opened as you paused from your kiss, lips still brushing against each other as you felt his length fill you completely.
His cock stretched you out thickly, his chest brushing against yours with every restrained breath he took.
Blood rushed in your ears, your pulse quickening as he pulled back, dragging his cock through your folds before back up inside of you. Your leg over his hip dragged higher as you pulled him closer, giving him a better angle to reach deeper within you.
The tip of his length brushed over every inch within you, a dreamy sigh falling from your lips as you nipped at Aemond’s mouth. He repeated the motion, slowly pushing his hips up into yours before dragging them backwards, leaving just his tip inside of you before he would plunge back inside.
You both pulled away from your kiss, foreheads pressed against each other as you breathed and whined, emotion pouring from him, his shoulders still tensed beneath your arms.
You tried to soothe him, running your fingers along the nape of his neck experimentally pressing into the thick cords of muscle at the back, at times rewarded by a small mewl from him before you settled to just tug lightly at his hair.
His thrusts never sped up, keeping the same restrained pace as heat bloomed in your stomach.
All that could be heard was the wet of your folds as he dragged himself through them and the pleasure that sang from the both of your lips.
The coil within you began to wind, and following his actions from earlier, you pressed a gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth.
Aemond’s hips stuttered, and as he fucked into you sensually, all emotion and passion. You could feel the sadness that permeated from him, that creeped under his skin and into yours with every thrust or breathy whine. Your heart ached as you felt it, but you knew that this was what he wanted. That this was how he wanted to be comforted, that this was what he had chosen, and so you praised him as he sought his pleasure, and aimed to bring you to yours.
“So good.” You gasped against his lips, pressing a chaste kiss to his plump and bitten raw lips as you carded your hands through his hair softly, “Making me feel so good.”
A low whine escaped his chest, and you felt his length within you throb.
Your own coil was increasingly winding with every shift of his hips, every drag of his cock against the pleasurable spots within you, and the meeting of the soft dusting of curls at the base of his cock that brushed against your bud with every thrust.
“You feel so good, Aemond.” You praised huskily, cupping a cheek in your hand as you felt his thrusts finally begin to quicken, their steady pace crumbling from your praise and his nearing release.
His lips crashed into yours, desperate groan rumbling in his chest as a hand moved to wrap itself under your ass, pulling you closer, length pressing inside of you to its limit, spreading you wider apart on his length as he plunged inside.
The shift caused sparks to erupt in your gut, “‘M close.” You softly whimpered, “Want you to cum.” Your lips brushed against his as you spoke, his forehead pressed to your own as he quickened his pace.
“Please.” He trembled in your arms, hand splayed on the globe of your ass gripping the flesh tighter.
But no matter how close he got to his peak, he didn’t push himself over the edge and you could feel it.
He was waiting for you.
Waiting for your encouragement, waiting for your pleasure. But in that moment, you knew that Aemond needed it more than you. You would give him the permission he needed to hear.
“Let go.”
Aemond came with a shattered cry, hips stuttering into yours as he rode out his release, hot ropes of warmth flooding your core as you cooed him softly, brushing hair away from his forehead as you kissed his scarred cheek.
“So good.” You cooed quietly, “So beautiful.”
His body rippled as he pushed himself to his limit, hips pressed snugly against yours as he puffed breaths of hot air against your cheek. His head dipped down to where your neck meets your shoulder, stomach intermittently clenching at the aftershocks, your wet warmth still gripping him tightly.
Your heart raced in your chest as Aemond pressed lips to the junction of neck and shoulder, kissing softly, air puffing against your skin from his nose. You dragged your hands up and down his back soothingly, feeling goosebumps erupt from his skin, a soft whine pressed into your shoulder.
His cock twitched inside of you, causing a breathless sigh to fall from your lips, pleasure still settled within you. Aemond’s head lifted from the crux of your neck, eye finding yours in the darkness.
“You didn’t finish.”
It wasn’t a question, it was a statement.
You chuckled softly, careful to make it known that you weren’t laughing at him, “I don’t need to.”
His brows furrowed at you, and you smoothed at them with a thumb.
Aemond shifted, dragging his length from within you, mewling whimper escaping your lips as every vein and ridge dragged through your walls deliciously. But instead of Aemond pulling out, he pushed right back inside, fire erupting over your skin as your breath hitched.
He bit his lip, overstimulated but wanting to bring you to your peak as he slowly fucked into you again, dragging his tip over the soft spongey spot inside of you with precision. He pushed all the way in to the hilt, his tip pressing into your cervix as you moaned desperately, fingers digging into the skin of his back as you gripped him to you.
You could feel his spend dripping out of you, stickiness coating your thighs and his sack which were pressed against you tightly.
Aemond dragged a hand down your body disappearing between your thighs as he gathered some of his cum up to your clit, swirling his thumb around it softly in circles. You moaned softly, breasts pressing into his chest as he held you to him, not moving his cock, but using it to keep you full of him, feeling your walls twitch and spasm around him as he brought you to your peak with a sudden cry.
Your walls gripped him tightly as he hissed, slowing his thumbs movements to drag you through your release until you whined that it was too much.
Your body felt like jelly, unable to move, content to just lay in his arms, cock softening inside of you.
And so that’s what you did.
Neither of you uttering a word as to what had just happened, nor a whisper of what had been said, both laid in the dark, legs intertwined, the warm glow of your peaks settling over you as your hearts raced within your chests.
Thanks so much for reading along with me, if you wish to be added to the tag list please let me know :) Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated ! Enjoy <3
Warnings: She/her pronouns, slow burn, angst. Tags will be added as the fic goes along.
Pairings: Modern!Aemond x Reader
Summary: Living with Helaena Targaryen was one of the best decisions you had ever made. Meeting at university, the two of you became thick as thieves and quickly best friends, moving into a flat together. But what will happen when Helaena has to leave, and her quiet, brooding, brother moves in?
Chapter 1: Christmas Beetle
Chapter 2: Departure
Chapter 3: Cregan Stark
Chapter 4: Bunny
Chapter 5: Sīkudi Nopāzmi (Seven Hells)
Chapter 6: Lapse in Judgement
Chapter 7: Hard Truths
Chapter 8:
Chapter 9:
Chapter 10:
Chapter 11:
Chapter 12:
Chapter 13:
Chapter 14:
Chapter 15:
Taglist: Please ask if you would like to be added to the taglist
Based on a SENSATIONAL request from @denaerystargaryen & by the behind the scenes pictures from The Stable...
Summary: The summer after graduating university, you and your best friend Baela are invited to spend a few months with her boyfriend Jace at his family's ranch, Dragonstone Hollow. You get along well with all of his cousins, except for one with a painful past (and a pretentious attitude).
Rating: Explicit/18+
🌿 Series-Inspired Playlist 🌿
This series will include elements of a few of the requests I have received. Once I begin posting, there will be approximately one installment posted per week. I'm very excited to share it with all of you!
dividers by @firefly-graphics
Saddle Up (Part 1)
Reined In (Part 2)
Broken In (Part 3)
Spurred (Part 4)
Bridled (Part 5)
Unfettered (Part 6)
Green Broke (Part 7)
Part 8 Coming Soon
If you would like to be added to this story-specific tag list, let me know! 🫶🏻
I got inspired by a conversation with AI Aemond, in which I was in Dragonstone… and Aemond appeared to conquer it… I bend the knee to him and I became his “pet”, it was super exciting but degrading… ANYWAYS…. and this is how it was born… It is going to be a bittersweet story, exploring some of my darkest kinks… anyways… here we go...
Aemond Targaryen x Targaryen!Reader
You were the last remaining child of Rhaenyra Targaryen, hold up in Dragonstone, the Greens, more, precisely, Aemond Targaryen has come for you... to bend the knee and submit yourself to him
Warnings: involuntary servitude, death of characters, cursing, smut, dub-con, others... warnings will de added by chapters
Summary: After you hook up with your longtime rival, he doesn't text all weekend, leaving you to believe that he just wanted to get laid. You respond accordingly. It doesn't go well (or does it?).
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4
Rating: Explicit/18+
Warnings: NSFW/Minors DNI, smut, enemies to lovers, academic rivals, the triumphant return of Titty Sucking™️, semi-public fingering, degradation
Word Count: 2.5k
A/N: Dividers by @firefly-graphics
Re-upload from my old blog @rottingviserys!
After you and Aemond hooked up, you found yourself unsure how to act around him.
Did you continue your rivalry? Start acting all sweet with him and deal with the sidelong looks from your classmates and professors? Ignore him altogether?
Just because you fucked one time didn’t mean you were anything to each other, and some nagging voice at the back of your mind worried that he’d only slept with you to throw you off your game and gain an edge on you in class, or worse, that he’d just been horny and pent up and wanted a quick fuck.
When he didn’t text you once the weekend following your stay at the inn and your trip to the Blue Lantern, you slowly began to fear that your worries might not be entirely misplaced.
The following Monday, a cold sense of embarrassment began to curdle in the pit of your stomach.
You had been used, that much was clear to you.
Briefly, you considered skipping class entirely to avoid having to see Aemond’s smug face, but the day's scheduled activity was far too good to miss–your class was set to take a day trip to the Sealord’s Palace and the Moon Pool, an old fountain in Braavos that sat just south of the fortress.
You’d vowed to yourself the moment you saw Aemond at the airport that you wouldn’t let him ruin this for you, and you were determined to stand by that pledge.
Resolved to go through with it, you selected your favorite skirt (that just so happened to make your legs look fantastic) and made your way to the front of the hotel, where your class was scheduled to meet.
Aemond is already in the lobby, dressed in a deep green sweater that probably costs more than your entire wardrobe put together. The top half of his hair is knotted into a bun on the back of his head, the rest of his straight hair loose above his shoulders, leaning against the wall with a lazy kind of grace that only he could pull off.
He’s deep in conversation with your professor, and you catch yourself staring at the way his lips move as he speaks. The memory of those same lips sucking at your nipples, on your neck, and between your legs makes your pussy clench, and you force yourself to look away, cheeks hot.
You pull out your phone, simply scrolling through your settings tab and pretending to be preoccupied, giving you something–anything–else to look at. To distract you from him and the heat that curls deep in your belly when the corner of his mouth curves upward into a smile.
Mentally, you take back your confession of not hating him you’d whispered in the throes of post-coital bliss the other night in the inn.
You had to hate him.
If you didn’t feel angry, you’re pretty sure you might cry.
“Anything interesting going on with your settings?” you almost jump at the sound of Aemond’s voice, not having heard him approach, and quickly fix your face into a sour expression.
“Fuck off,” you snap shortly, clicking your phone off and crossing your arms.
His teasing smile fades, the mirth in his eyes fading into something questioning, but before he can open his smug mouth again, your professor calls for the class to leave the hotel, and you hurry off, moving as far away from him as quickly as you can.
The group takes a boat up the canals, heading north toward the Moon Pool, and you snag a seat beside Cerelle Lannister, a blonde girl you knew vaguely from a few of your classes at King’s Landing University.
You swear you can feel Aemond’s gaze burning a hole through the back of your head the whole ride there, but you force yourself to ignore it, instead making idle small talk with Cerelle about the trip so far.
Admittedly, you aren’t really listening to her, but her chatter serves as a welcome distraction from the silver-haired dickhead behind you.
At the Moon Pool, you follow the rest of your class to the edge of the fountain, marveling to yourself at the intricately carved faces, spitting water out into the pool below. It glitters under the sun that just barely peeks through the clouds, reflecting your face up at you.
“The Moon Pool,” your professor spreads his arms broadly in introduction. “Can anyone tell me why it’s significant to Braavosi culture?”
As usual, yours and Aemond’s hands are the first ones up, volunteering yourselves eagerly.
“Yes, Aemond?”
“The Moon Pool is the customary dueling place of the Water Dancers,” Aemond answers proudly, “its reflective surface makes an optical illusion from a distance–it looks like they’re on the water’s surface.”
“Good,” your professor nods in approval. “And who are the Water Dancers?”
Again, you and Aemond’s hands raise, and this time your professor calls on you.
“Water Dancing is a style of combat,” you explain, refusing to meet Aemond’s scalding gaze. “It is focused on fluid motions and quick attacks. Typically, they can far outpace other fighters, which puts them at an advantage.”
“They use smaller weapons for speed and wear lighter armor, which can put them at a disadvantage,” Aemond cuts in, not waiting for your professor to reply. “The rapiers they use are fairly useless when it comes to penetrating armor.”
“Their smaller weapons can more easily find weak spots in plate armor,” you reply, turning your gaze to his annoyingly self-satisfied face. “Not to mention the greater level of finesse needed to outmaneuver their opponents–their skill is unmatched.”
“So do you think water dancing is a superior form of combat?” he accuses, crossing his arms over his chest, eye narrowed. “Because that would be an incredibly unnuanced take.”
“You wouldn’t know ‘nuance’ if it smacked you in the face, you pretentious di–”
“Enough, both of you,” your professor cuts in sharply, cutting off your insult. “If you continue to derail in-class discussions like this, I’ll have to dock both of your grades, understood?”
You press your lips together tightly, nodding stiffly, your cheeks hot with embarrassment.
“Understood,” Aemond says, ever the suck-up. “Sorry, Professor.”
You bite the inside of your cheek to keep from snapping at him again. If you lost points because you couldn’t control your temper, he would only get more insufferable, if that was even possible.
You’re silent for the rest of your time at the Moon Pool, quietly seething every time Aemond opens his smart mouth again, and briefly consider shoving him into the fountain just to ruin his stupid hair and ridiculous sweater.
In sullen silence, you follow your class on the brief walk to the Sealord’s Palace, barely paying attention to the guided tour. Every time you look at Aemond, he’s looking at you, and it makes you want to punch him right in his pretty mouth.
It comes as a relief with the tour ends, and the class is dismissed to explore the rest of the public areas of the castle individually for a few hours before you go back to the hotel, and you all but run away from the group, and from Aemond’s searing gaze.
Escaping him proved to be easier said than done.
“Hey!” his voice sounds behind you, every bit as angry as you feel. You try to ignore him, making for the single-stalled bathroom down the hall from you, but Aemond Targaryen is nothing if not persistent.
“I know you can hear me,” he continues, his longer stride allowing him to quickly catch up with you. “Will you stop?” he snaps, grabbing your wrist and yanking you about to face him.
“Targaryen, if you don’t let me go right now, I will scream,” you threaten, pulling in a vain attempt to escape his grasp.
“Oh, don’t threaten me with a good time,” he shoots back snarkily, “I like it when you scream.”
“Fuck you,” you jerk your arm again but to no avail.
“You’ve already done that, haven’t you,” he snaps. “What was it…three days ago when you were crying for me to–”
“You’re such a dick,” you snarl, your voice raising in volume. “I can’t stand you.”
He stares at you for a beat, and before you can blink, he’s dragging you into the very bathroom you’d intended to take refuge in, slamming and locking the door behind him.
“What the hell–” you begin to berate him again, but then he’s kissing you with the same punishing ferocity he’d displayed a few nights previous, his fingers digging harshly into your hips as he lifts you onto the counter.
The pathetic excuse of a dam breaks, and you wrap your arms around his neck, legs spreading without prompting to allow him between them. His hands run up your thighs, kneading at the soft flesh, his grip so hard that it hurts, the tips of his fingers disappearing beneath the hem of your skirt.
“You were so damn pleasant last week,” he hisses, shoving your skirt up toward your hips. “And now you’re acting like a fucking child again, making a scene in front of the whole class. Did I not fuck you well enough last time? Do you need this cock again to placate you? Huh?”
He doesn’t give you a chance to answer, capturing your lips again, his tongue delving into your mouth as he grinds his hardened cock against the apex of your thighs. You whimper into the kiss, curling a hand into his hair and ruining the bun he had tied there, helpless to do anything except submit to him.
It feels so fucking good when he kisses you that it makes your head feel like it’s full of cotton, any chance at coherent thought or a witty comeback dying under the drag of his tongue on yours and the grip of his hands on your ass.
He yanks your shirt up over your head, pausing his assault on your lips only momentarily to get it off of you. He tosses it to the side on the counter, nimble fingers undoing your bra and discarding it as well, leaving you half-naked in the middle of the goddamn Sealord’s Palace. Anyone passing by could overhear you, but the thought doesn’t horrify you the way it should. Instead, it makes a rush of arousal pool in your core, and you buck your hips forward, seeking any friction he would give you.
Aemond drops his head to your exposed breasts, suckling at the right while his hand palms your left, just as he had a few nights previous, but this time, he’s not teasing you. He flicks his tongue over your nipple, the edge of his teeth dragging over it lightly once, twice, each sting of pain worsening the ache between your legs.
“Do I need to fuck you every day? Would that make you behave?” he growls darkly, releasing your nipple and moving his attention to the opposite, pinching at the spit-soaked peak of your breast as he begins to suck on the other.
You moan at the thought–the idea of him fucking you, filling you the way he had before melting away any traces of resolve you had in the blink of an eye.
He continues his ministrations on your tits, licking at the hardened, swollen bud, the heat of his mouth around it making you drop your head back, landing with a quiet ‘thump’ against the mirror behind you. You expect him to stop, to undo his pants and fuck you the way he threatened, but he just keeps going, slowly driving you insane.
A familiar coil begins to build in your stomach, spurred on by the lewd slurping sound of his mouth on your tits, and your arousal becomes almost painful. You’re so desperate for him to give you more, your hips moving against his of their own accord, humping desperately like you’re a horny teenager getting touched for the first time.
It’s indecent, foolish, and downright disrespectful for you to be doing this in a historical government building, but all you want in the world is for him to never stop what he’s doing.
He moves his mouth back to your right breast again, sucking harshly at the skin before engulfing your nipple in rapturous torture once more, his now free right hand slipping between your legs at last, shoving your soaked panties to the side and plunging two thick fingers deep inside you.
“Aemond,” you choke out, jolting up to meet his thrusts haphazardly, the combined attention to your tits and your cunt increasing your pleasure tenfold.
“Aemond,” he mocks in a high-pitched voice, pulling back to blow on your hardened nipples, drawing another whimper from you. “What happened to ‘Targaryen’?” he references your typical refusal to call him by his first name.
He curls his fingers inside you, zeroing in on the rough patch of your walls immediately, fingers squelching loudly in your dripping cunt, thumb petting at your swollen clit in tandem, rendering you utterly incoherent.
You’re close–embarrassingly so–and you clench around his digits furiously, wave after wave of arousal spilling from you, soaking his hand.
“Fucking pathetic,” he comments darkly, tongue darting out again to resume his attention to your achingly sensitive nipple, not letting up on the pace of his fingers for even a second.
Pulling his fingers from your fluttering pussy, he focuses all his attention on your clit, rubbing it in harsh, tight circles, humming in satisfaction against your chest.
“Fuck!” you cry out, far too loudly given your current location, your cunt clenching, your legs shaking wildly as you cum. Your back arches forward, pressing your tits further into his face, and the few shreds of composure you’d retained thus far disappear altogether.
Your thighs clamp hard on his narrow hips, trying unconsciously to close them but unable to do so, and your pulse thunders in your ears. Everything becomes a distant backdrop to your orgasm, every muscle in your body going completely rigid.
You’ve barely begun to come down from your high when he pulls back, wiping his fingers on your thigh carelessly, his chest heaving, eye blown dark with lust. He rakes his gaze over you shamelessly, dragging the back of his hand over his kiss-swollen lips.
“That’s what I fucking thought,” he smirks at you, condescending and half-cruel, and then he turns, unlocks the door, and leaves.
You sit on the counter, dumbstruck and shaking, forcing yourself on your unsteady feet to lock the door again so that no one would walk in on you in your current state.
Your brain, still fuzzy with lust, is racing a mile a minute, and you grasp onto the counter for support, staring at yourself in the mirror as you catch your breath.
A large bruise is forming at the top of your breast, stinging faintly, and your hair is in disarray, your eyes wild.
You suck in a slow, calming breath, your lust morphing back into anger at the realization that he’d just made you cum and left you there.
“Oh, that motherfucker,” you snarl under your breath.
Not only had he won in class today, but he’d also utterly humiliated you and given you an earth-shattering orgasm on top of that too.
Tonight, you decided you were going to his room to settle this once and for all.
Summary: During a Study Abroad trip to Braavos, your academic rivalry with Aemond Targaryen comes to a head.
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4
Rating: Explicit/18+
Warnings: NSFW/Minors DNI, enemies to lovers, academic rivals, penetrative sex, fingering, oral (f receiving), degradation, praise, titty sucking, aemond and reader are a little bit switchy, forced proximity, guess how many beds there are? ONE!!!
Word Count: 4.1k
A/N: This is a re-upload of a previously posted fic! I deleted my old blog but I wanted to bring this one back.
Dividers by @firefly-graphics 🫶🏻
When you were accepted to King’s Landing University’s study abroad program in Braavos, you’d been beside yourself with glee.
After reading so much about Braavosi history and culture in your classes, you were eager to see its stone walls and weaving canals firsthand–reading was one thing, but experiencing it was far better, in your opinion.
Everything had been perfect until you’d shown up at the airport and come face to face with none other than your sworn enemy, Aemond Targaryen.
You’d never hated someone how you hated him–he was always the first in the classroom, sitting in the front with his annoying smirk and stupid white hair pulled back neatly at the nape of his neck.
He had a counterpoint to everything you said, some way to disprove your carefully-researched arguments, always with that smug expression etched across his face.
It didn’t help that all of your professors seemed to just love him–praising him for practically everything he did. You were half-convinced that he could say the most brain-dead bullshit and your teachers would still fawn over how nuanced and unconventionally intelligent his point was.
You complained about him to your friends frequently, and though they sympathized, they all seemed to think you were exaggerating, leaving you to simmer in your rage alone.
For a moment after you saw him at the airport terminal, you’d vaguely considered turning around and leaving, but the trip was already paid for, and you’d be damned if you let him ruin it for you.
You decided that you’d simply avoid him and enjoy the rest of the trip with as few interactions with him as possible, though that resolution seemed to be easier said than done.
As much as you tried to minimize your time with him, he seemed to be everywhere you went, snarky comments and a condescending smile in tow, and it was driving you up the wall.
A month into your trip, your class was given a rare free day to explore the city and do as you wished.
You knew exactly where you were spending your day: The Purple Harbor, a hub for internal trade within Braavos.
Your day was going splendidly until you decided to stop by the famous local playhouse, the Blue Lantern, and upon entering, were greeted by the exact drawling voice you’d hoped to avoid.
“Couldn’t help but follow me, could you?” Aemond smirked at you from where he stood, a book of Braavosi plays resting comfortably in his hand.
“Don’t flatter yourself,” you comment dryly, “you’re not the only person that knows their Essosi history.” You brush past him, going out of your way to knock shoulders, though you don’t manage to throw him off balance.
“Touchy, hm?” he snickers, snapping the book shut and returning it to its shelf, trailing after you. “You getting so defensive only makes me think I’m right.”
“You’d think you were right regardless,” you snipe back, pretending to be engrossed with the large tapestry on the wall before you. “Nothing I say would affect your opinion of me.”
“Hm,” he comes to stand beside you, clasping his hands behind his back, though his gaze remains focused on you rather than the work in front of him.
“What do you want?” you snap your head to look at him, your voice coming out a bit too loud in your irritation.
“Can I not admire the art?” he grins, his eye not leaving your face, pleased with the rise he's managed to get out of you. “This is a public place, after all.”
“Could you admire it away from me?”
“Not possible.”
“Fine.”
With an agitated sigh, you turn on your heel and stalk toward the exit, resigning yourself to simply visit here another day when Aemond Targaryen wasn't present.
When you open the heavy wooden door, you curse loudly at what greets you.
In the short time you spent inside, the threatening gray clouds overhead have split open, giving way to a downpour. The winds are so high that the rain practically flies sideways, and in the distance, you can see the sea swirling dangerously.
There was no way you could get back to the hotel where your class was staying through this–the weather looked an inch away from a full-blown hurricane, and you weren’t willing to take your chances.
“Seven Hells,” a low voice comments over your shoulder, making you jump.
“Gods, you’re creepy, Targaryen,” you huff, locating the source. “Give a warning next time, huh?”
“It’s not my fault you’ve got shitty spacial awareness,” he jabs at you.
“Fuck off.”
“I’m just saying,” he raises his hands in mock surrender. “In any case, there’s no way we’re making it back to the hotel in this,” he gestured at the storm, echoing your thoughts.
“There’s an inn next door, according to Google–we should just crash there,” he suggests, flicking through his search results. “Unless you want to risk drowning?” he quips when you don’t reply.
You roll your eyes, waving him off.
“Fine. You’re right. Let’s go–before I regret saying yes,” you snap, hating the pleased smile that spreads across his face when you concede.
Even though the inn Aemond found is less than a two-minute walk from the theatre, you’re both soaked to the bone when you arrive.
Shaking off as much excess water as you can, you make your way to the check-in desk, gaining a sympathetic look from the attendant.
“Hi,” you try to force a pleasant tone, “do you have two rooms available?”
She hums in acknowledgment of your request, clicking at her screen, but to your dismay, she shakes her head.
“Only one room available, and it’s a single, I’m afraid,” she says apologetically. “A few other people had the same idea as you. We can comp you for the minibar if you’re okay with that?” She glances between you and Aemond.
You want to say no so badly, but a loud clap of thunder sounds outside, and Aemond answers for you.
“Yeah, that would be great, thank you so much,” he sounds far too at peace given the situation, which only irks you further, but you nod in sullen agreement as Aemond puts his credit card down.
The room is cozy–a Queen sized bed, covered in a thick, handmade quilt, lit by soft lamplight. A nicely updated bathroom adjoins the main living space, and you sigh faintly in relief at the rush of warm air from the radiator in the corner.
“Hm. A bit snug,” Aemond sniffs, shucking off his jacket and placing it on a hook by the door.
You scoff, toeing off your softly squelching shoes and hanging your windbreaker beside his.
“We get it, Targaryen, you’re rich,” you snark. “This isn’t up to your normal standard or whatever–give it a rest.”
“I didn’t say that,” he frowns at you with irritation to match your own. “You know what, just for that, I’m taking the shower first,” he says shortly, stalking off to the bathroom and locking it behind him without sparing you a second glance.
“Fucker,” you mutter sourly, peeling your socks off and laying them on the floor beside your shoes.
The hiss of running water sounds from the bathroom, and you shiver, envious that he’s getting to enjoy it first. You shuffle to the radiator, shucking off your jeans and t-shirt, draping them over it, and grabbing a blanket from the couch, shrouding your shivering frame.
He doesn’t take long–maybe five minutes tops–before he emerges, a well-worn towel around his waist, his damp silver hair curling softly around his shoulders.
It takes everything in you not to stare–how could you not when he’s practically shimmering underneath the lamp light, rivulets of water trailing down his bare torso tantalizingly?
He’s shockingly well-muscled, lean, and lithe, hardened from working out, and his chest and cheeks are faintly flushed, a result of the hot water he’d just had the privilege of indulging in.
“You alright?” his words shake you from your reverie, and you feel your cheeks burn, snapping your eyes from his body to focus on his face again.
“I’m fine, thanks,” you say far too quickly. “Just been waiting for you to finish your hair care routine so I can use the facilities too.”
“Who told you about that?”
“About what?”
“About my–oh, fucker. You were joking,” it’s Aemond’s turn to blush now, a smirk forming on your face at his admission.
“I was,” you confirm, giggling despite yourself. “I’m gonna go shower–don’t worry, we’ll be discussing this alleged hair routine later,” you toss the last few words over your shoulder, yanking the bathroom door shut behind you before he can protest.
You shed the blanket immediately, hurrying to turn the water on, your limbs aching under the comforting warmth of the steam, a satisfied groan passing your lips as the heat radiates through your chilled body.
As you rub your arms underneath the spray, you try your best not to think of Aemond, half-naked only a few feet away from you. Unbidden, images of his taught chest and rippling shoulders flash behind your closed eyes, and you shake your head, hoping in vain that it will work like an etch-a-sketch on your brain and erase the thoughts.
You hated him, you reminded yourself repeatedly.
He was arrogant, privileged, and above all else, annoying.
You weren’t attracted to him.
You weren’t.
So lost are you in your thoughts that you take at least twice the amount of time Aemond did, washing your body with the unscented white bar soap and allowing yourself just enjoy the water for a while longer before you at last turn it off and squeeze the excess from your hair.
When you emerge from the bathroom, wrapped in a towel, you see that Aemond has followed your lead, hanging his clothing over the radiator, and now sits on the bed, towel still wrapped around his waist as he types something on his phone.
“I emailed our professor,” he says to his screen. “Told him we got caught in the storm and will be back tomorrow.”
“Thanks,” you mumble begrudgingly, dragging the blanket behind you from the bathroom and settling on the couch. It would be a while until your clothing was dry enough to put back on, so you’d have to wait it out.
“Mhm. Nice bra, by the way,” he snickers, tossing his phone to the side and nodding at the radiator where it hung.
“Fuck off.”
“It was only a compliment,” he prods, doing nothing to hide the self-contented grin he wore. “I figured it was fair game after the way you were ogling me earlier.”
“I wasn’t ogling, jackass.”
“Oh, but you were,” he answers easily, standing from the bed and moving towards you.
How his towel managed to stay up was beyond you, and it took everything in you not to stare. “There’s no shame in it–you don’t have to be embarrassed,” he snickers.
Tonight was going to kill you.
“Speaking of embarrassed,” you fire back, rising to your feet as well, determined to throw him off his rhythm, “what was that earlier about your hair care routine?”
He makes a face, and pleased with your progress, you carry on.
“So what is it? Olaplex? BioSilk?” you prod.
“Oh, fuck you,” he snapped, crossing his arms over his chest, cheeks growing pink again.
“Your hair isn’t normally wavy like this either,” you press, gesturing vaguely at his damp, loose curls. “Don’t tell me you straighten it? Or wait–do you use a Dyson Airwrap? That’s what you rich people use, right?”
“Shut up, will you?” he looks actually angry now, and you laugh outright, amusement only growing.
“Is it keratin treatments?” you step closer to him, delighting in his agitation. “Do you go to the salon with your mommy?”
“I said, shut up!” He snarls, his eye flashing with fury.
“Make me,” you challenge triumphantly, jutting out your chin. “I just asking a–”
You’re cut off abruptly by Aemond seizing your arms, just above your elbows, and yanking you towards him, kissing you roughly, his teeth biting into your lower lip.
It isn’t until you’re kissing him back, fingers clutching at the sides of his muscled abdomen, that you realize exactly what you’re doing and jerk backward with a gasp, your eyes flying open.
“What are you doing?” you hiss indignantly, heart thumping wildly in your chest.
“Shutting you up,” he grins. “Shall I do it again?”
“Go to hell,” you squeak, sounding more flustered than threatening.
“You say that like you weren’t kissing me back,” he rolls his eyes, quickly regaining the confidence that had waned under your teasing.
“I wasn’t.”
“Weren’t you?” he slips a warm hand around your waist, his satisfied expression only growing when you make no move to pull away.
You can’t stop looking at his lips–all soft and pink and twisted upward, mocking you.
Can’t stop thinking about how he’d tasted like the cheap complimentary mint toothpaste that the hotel provided and how much you’d like to run your fingers through the soft waves that just barely brush his shoulders.
“You’re staring again,” he chuckles, tugging you closer, the heat of his body so near that it makes your skin prickle.
“I’m not,” you protest hoarsely, eyes locked on his perfect mouth.
“Hm,” he strokes your face with the back of his free hand, his eye uncharacteristically soft. “Alright,” he shrugs, “if you say so.”
“Oh shut up,” you groan, and this time it's you that surges up, crushing your mouth against his, giving up the lie altogether.
He grunts faintly, the hand on your cheek curling around the back of your neck, gripping the nape firmly and pulling you against his body.
You can feel that he’s already half-hard beneath his towel, and you cannot stop yourself from letting out a quiet whimper at the realization.
“You,” you mutter between kisses, “ are so. Fucking. Frustrating.”
“Trust me,” he pulls you towards the bed, “the feeling is mutual.”
He sits, pulling you onto his lap, your core pressing down on his thinly-covered length, and you whine, squeezing his hips with your thighs.
“It only makes it worse that you’re infuriatingly hot,” he growls, trailing hot kisses down your neck, biting and sucking at it like a wild animal. “Every time you start on one of your stupid tangents in our classes…gets me so fuckin’ hard.”
You want to make a snarky comment about him getting turned on in the middle of class, but he grasps your ass with both hands, gripping harshly and drawing a sharp gasp from you, erasing all coherent thought from your brain.
He nips at the tops of your breasts, dragging his tongue over the tender skin after, worrying at the spots and easing your towel lower and lower until it falls, pooling around your waist.
Taking the peak of one of your tits in his warm, waiting mouth, he begins to suck at it, using his grip on your backside to drag you along his length aggressively, the combination of his actions sending shockwaves through your body.
You’re helpless to do anything but moan, struggling to keep up with the punishing pace he’s moving you at, the ministrations on your breasts making you feel lightheaded with pleasure.
“Hm, you like when I give your tits attention like this,” he observes, trailing his lips over to repeat his actions on the opposite. “Think you could come just from that?”
When you don’t answer, he gives a particularly harsh suckle to your nipple, making you let out a high-pitched squeak, your back arching, pressing your chest toward him.
You can feel how wet you are already, and you know he can too–the towel beneath you is soaked where you’ve been grinding on him so desperately.
“Yeah, I think you could,” he snickers against you, flicking out his tongue to continue toying with it. “I’ll have to try that some other time. For now–”
He gives your ass a final squeeze, flipping you onto your back, laying you down in the center of the mattress, your towel falling from you completely, leaving you naked in front of him.
“Fuck,” is all he says, eye raking over you appreciatively before slotting himself between your legs, pressing his shoulders beneath your soft thighs. “You don’t want to know how long I’ve thought about doing this to you.”
You’re barely coherent as he drags a finger through your soaked folds, but you still manage to ask:
“How long?”
He presses a finger slowly into you, darting his tongue out, licking at your clit experimentally before answering.
“Since you called me “a stupid asshole” in our research methods class last year and got kicked out of the room,” he informs you, smirking up from between your taut legs and leaning in, circling his tongue on your bud insistently.
“Ohh–” you toss your head back, half-embarrassed to feel yourself clenching around his finger, your body already betraying you.
He laughs against you quietly, curling a second finger inside your cunt, searching for the spongey spot within you with every thrust, stroking in a manner that would have been soothing if he weren’t slowly driving you toward insanity.
The smug bastard finds the little rough patch with infuriating quickness, his preening expression growing as you keen, spine curving up off the bed.
“Thereee it is,” he teases. “Good girl…good fucking girl.”
He sucks firmly on your pearl, gripping at one of your thighs with his free hand, forcing your legs to stay open, making you shake with ecstasy.
“Are you gonna come for me?” he mumbles into you sweetly. “Yeah?” he slaps at your thigh. “Answer me.”
“Yes–fuck, Aemond–” you burst out, and just like that, he’s gone.
Your eyes fly open, your pussy throbbing from its sudden lack of stimulation, indignation running hot through your veins.
“You dirty little–” you begin to insult him, but he throws the towel from his body, at last exposing himself to you, and the infuriated comment dies in your throat.
“You were saying?” he taunts, crawling over you, his hot, heavy cock brushing between your legs. “Aw, what is it? Finally at a loss for words?” his voice drips with mock pity, his lust-blown eye narrowed with satisfaction.
In a brief moment of irritation-driven clarity, you shove at his chest, pushing him over onto his back and clambering atop him.
His eye widens in surprise, and you snicker, dragging your dripping pussy over his dick before reaching down and grabbing it by the base, easing yourself down onto it with a satisfied hiss.
To your amusement, his jaw goes slack, a low groan thrumming in the back of his throat, his eye fluttering with badly-concealed pleasure.
You raise yourself upwards, almost to his tip, and slam back down with a satisfying smack of skin on skin, and a pathetic keen falls from his lips, making you clench around his thick length.
“At a loss for words?” you mock his earlier question as you begin to ride him, slow and harsh, each roll of your hips sending sparks of arousal up your spine, your wetness aiding your torturous fucking. “I think I like you better quiet,” you tease, resting a hand on his firm chest to give you more leverage. “It suits you.”
“Fuck..you,” he grunts, visibly struggling to get the insult out.
“Hm, no,” you sigh in mock regret. “I’m the one fucking you, I’m afraid,” you end your sentence with a particularly rough roll of your hips, grinding your clit against his pelvis, enjoying the pathetically blissed-out expression he wore.
It only takes a few minutes, however, until your thighs begin to ache from the exertion–it had been an embarrassingly long time since you’d been to the gym–and your pace faltered.
It shouldn’t have surprised you as much as it did when he immediately took advantage of the situation, seizing your hips and planting his feet on the bed, sliding you up his cock, and thrusting up into you roughly, his fingers flexing against your soft hips.
“Had your fun?” he snarls, obviously pleased to be back in control, eye flicking between where he entered you and your debauched expression. “You might be smarter than me in class, but in here? Here you’re just a little cock-drunk slut who needs to learn how to keep. Her mouth. Shut.”
He punctuates each pause with a rough thrust, and you moan loudly at his words, your walls fluttering around him desperately as you buckle over, too lost in your euphoria to hold yourself upright any longer.
He chuckles darkly, pulling you off of him, hissing with displeasure at the loss of your warmth, before flipping you back over and slamming inside you with a groan of delight.
“So good,” he mutters, “so perfect–you’d let me fuck you however I wanted, wouldn’t you?”
You whine in affirmation, the loud, slapping sounds of your coupling nearly drowning out your voice.
“Hm, you would,” he breathes. “Let me fuck you from behind or up against the window…Maybe even between the shelves in the library where anyone would walk by and see you…”
You nod stupidly, brain turned to mush by how well he’s taking you. He’s right, after all–you’d let him fuck you however he wanted, so long as it felt this good.
“Yes,” you gasp out raggedly. “Yes–fuck–Aemond,” you’re practically wailing, not caring if anyone can hear you–embarrassment be damned.“Please.”
The head of his cock brushes against your sensitive inner walls with each deep roll of his hips against yours, reaching so deep within you that the pleasure is almost too much.
“Shitshitshit–oh,” you yelp, feeling your orgasm hurtling at you, his denial earlier only serving to make you more desperate.
He slips a hand between your bodies, rubbing your clit in tight, harsh swipes, never once ceasing the savage thrusting of his hips.
“You’re close, aren’t you,” he hums, watching your face twist in half-pained bliss, his expression mirroring yours and his breathing growing ragged as he continues to pound into you, chasing both of your releases with a single-minded focus.
“Y-es,” you choke out, words breaking with each snap forward of his lower half.
“Come for me–yes, that’s a good girl; let go, baby,” he breathes, sealing your lips in a searing kiss, muffling your cry as you come apart around him.
He’s not far behind, managing to pull out just in time, coming on your lower stomach in hot, pearly spurts, his eye screwing shut, mouth hanging open as he fucks wildly into his hand.
“Shit,” he groans, flopping by your side heavily, chest rising and falling unsteadily. “I’ll clean you up just–fucking hell,” he laughs weakly, pausing to catch his breath.
You can’t help but laugh faintly too, turning your head to look at him, gasping for air as well.
After a moment, he pushes up on his elbows and leans over, kissing you with shocking tenderness, making your heart flutter unwillingly.
“One second,” he murmurs against your lips before he rises, placing a hand on the wall to steady himself before staggering off to the bathroom, returning with a damp washcloth and using it to wipe away his rapidly-cooling cum from your skin.
He discards the washcloth and returns to you, easing himself back into bed beside you.
“So, I’m smarter than you, huh?” you reference what he’d told you in the heat of the moment, grinning wickedly.
“Mm. Until I fuck you stupid, anyway,” Aemond smirks back at you, turning to lay on his side, propping his head on his hand. “But yes. If you try to tell anyone else I said that, though, I’ll deny it.”
You snort.
“I’d expect nothing less.”
He kisses you again, soft and sweet, his fingers drawing idle patterns on your hipbone.
“I don’t hate you, by the way–if that wasn’t clear,” he says softly after a beat. “Never have. Just…can’t stand being outdone, and you were always so fuckin’ smug about it–”
You quiet him with another soft press of your lips on his.
“I don’t think I ever really hated you either, looking back on it,” you admit, a light tone coloring your words. “Just thought you were a bit full of yourself.”
“Oh, I am,” he jokes, smiling at you affectionately, eliciting a laugh from you before dropping his head into the crook of your neck.
“Hey,” he mumbles against your skin softly, “tomorrow, when the rain stops, do you want to try the Blue Lantern again? I promise not to bother you this time.”
“I’d like that,” you agree, unable to contain the pleased grin that has taken up permanent residence on your face. “But I’d prefer it if you did bother me–wouldn’t be the same without it.”
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