What a marriage
English is not my first language, please be kind
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Part 1 -> Part 2 -> Part 3 -> Part 4 -> Part 5
•Warnings: manipulation, violence, kissing, fingering.•
Modern!Husband!Aemond x Wife!Reader
She stumbled back as Aemond took a step towards her.
“What th-” She stuttered, confused. “Why are you here?” She hissed.
“You love to forget that you’re my wife, uh?” Aemond asked, taking another step forward, grabbing two glasses of wine from the table, giving her one. “Let’s toast to our sweet reunion.” Aemond said, his voice sounded teasing but his expression was cold. “And to my dear friend James, who made it happen.”
The glass almost fell from her hand, her chest, her heart, clenched, like she had been shot or stabbed,
Betrayal.
Deep, painful, shattering betrayal.
She had been played.
“What?” She mumbled, her voice weak as she stared at him. “James…” She shook her head, stepping back as her eyes filled with tears. “No.”
“Yes.” Aemond took a step forward at every step she took backwards. “Did you really think I’d let another man fuck you? Kiss you?”
Is that why James didn’t kiss her?
Because of him?
He scoffed as he put down the glass, and snatched hers from her hand.
No.
So it was all planned? James asked her out just to make sure she wouldn’t have messed with another man?
“What is it?” Aemond smiled cruelly as he moved his hand towards her face, his fingertips grazing her cheek. “Got a little crush for him? Maybe because he brought you out to that restaurant that I chose?” He smirked. “I liked that dress.” He leaned closer.
God, it was so humiliating.
“Fuck you.” She hissed, baring her teeth.
He was there. Watching them.
She had never been free. He only let her have the illusion.
“You are the most hateful, fucking piece of shit I’ve ever known–”
His hand wrapped around her neck in record time, squeezing tightly and making her choke before she could even finish spitting her insults.
“Careful what you say to your husband, wife.” Aemond growled. “I’m showing you a generous amount of patience and control, letting you have your stupid vacation after you wrecked my room, and ran with my money.” He squeezed her throat tighter, cutting off her air.
She let out a choked groan, her hands wrapping around his wrist and arm, moving frantically, trying to unwrap his hand from her neck and push him away.
“I told you I’d chase you, didn’t I?” He growled in her ear.
“You said a lot of things that you clearly didn’t mean–” She said with the little breath she had.
Aemond laughed at her, releasing her neck just when her face was getting a deeper shade of red.
She fell down on her knees, coughing and gasping for hair.
“Like what?” He hissed as he crouched down to be at her level. “What made you run so far from me, uh?”
As she looked up at him, she clearly saw fury in his eye. But not only that.
There was also… disappointment.
Despite her better judgment, that got to her, but she didn’t let it deter her.
“You’re a shitty husband.” She hissed the moment she could speak again, even if her voice was still rough from the choking. “Did you have fun with Floris while I was away?” She couldn’t stop herself now. “Did you invite her over for dinner like you wanted to? Let her warm your cock? Did you laugh at how stupid your wife was for believing you cared about her?!” Her voice kept rising. “You fucking disgust me.” She hissed as she leaned closer to his face. “You use people, you used me.” She clenched her jaw as she looked at his face getting redder. “You treated me like shit, like I was some fucking sex doll for your own plasure!” She yelled.
His jaw looked like it might break any moment from how set it was.
“Don’t talk like you didn’t fucking come like a wanton whore on my cock every time I shoved it inside you.” He snarled. He stood back up, looming over her. “So all this theatre was all because you’re jealous?” He scoffed. “Dumb bitch.” He grabbed her arm and pulled her up on her feet. “How many times will I have to tell you that I’m not fucking Floris, and that I don’t plan to even sniff that cunt, uh?” He shoved her to the side, making her stumble in what she recognised as the living room. “I don’t want to fuck her. I want to fuck you. As many times as I physically can.”
She hated how his words made her body burn, and her cunt wet.
“So what?” She growled. “You humiliated me in front of her, making it very clear that you don’t give a shit about me!” She yelled. “I’m done being a fucking sex toy!” She punched his chest, but he didn’t even budge. “Why do you even want to stay in this marriage?! What the fuck do you care if I fuck someone else or if I run?!” She pushed him. “Is it all about fucking possession to you?” She looked up at him, shaking in anger. “Then fucking divorce me and find youself someone that is willing to be just a furniture in your house, because I’ll never, ever settle to that!” She screamed.
Aemond grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled, hard.
“Shut. Up.” He snarled. “Just shut the fuck up. Stop acting like you figured me out, because you clearly didn’t.”
His mouth crushed on her without a warning, stealing her breath away.
The kiss wasn’t gentle, wasn't kind, it was a pure fight of control.
It was like he was trying to fuse his tongue in her mouth.
“Keep fighting back.” He growled against her lips. “But don’t run away. I swear, I’ll put a tracker inside you if I have to.” His single eye looked down at her with an intensity that made her legs feel like jelly. “If I didn't care about you, I wouldn’t have bothered to come all the way here to come and get you.” He hissed.
“Don’t mess with my head.” She wanted it to sound like a warning, but it came out like a plea.
He looked down at her in silence, studying her face.
“What do you want?” He asked her. He kept her head leaned back so she couldn’t look away, his other hand covering the side of her neck and jaw.
“I want to be free.” She stated, desperately.
His hand pressed harder against her face and he kissed her again. He pulled away and pressed his forehead against her, forcing her to lean back her head as he pushed against it.
“Not possible.” He whispered against her lips. “You’re mine. My wife. My woman.”
“Oh, go to hell.” She hissed. “You never treated me like one.” This time she pushed against his forehead.
“Do I disgust you, wife?” He asked as his hand gripped her hips, making her step backwards until her back hit the wall. He slid a hand between her legs, finding without hesitation her panties. “Then why are you wet?” He growled as he moved his finger, teasing and caressing her slit through her panties.
She bit her lip hard to not moan.
“Because I came here thinking James would fuck me –” She growled back. Aemond’s free hand quickly moved to her jaw, squeezing her cheeks tightly as he pushed her head back, making her hit the wall.
She hissed at the pain, and glared at Aemond with all the hate in her body.
“Fucking cunt.” He growled. His fingers pushed her panties to the side, and dove in between her lower lips, circling her entrance, but never touching her clit or entering her. “You think you want to be free? Or be with a man like James?” He scoffed. “Don’t make me laugh. That’s not what you want.”
She glared up at him, her hips trying to follow his fingers for some stimulation, some pleasure, but he always pulled them away.
“What do I want, since you think you know me so well?” She hissed.
“You want someone to tell you that you did good.” His finger slipped inside her, two, bottoming out to the knuckle.
She moaned and leaned her head back, her hips bucking, but his fingers remained still inside her, unmoving.
“You want people to be proud of you. You need acceptance, validation, acknowledgement.”
She was breathless.
She felt naked, exposed, and embarrassed.
Was she so simple to read? Was it that pathetic that she simply wanted someone to notice her and be enough as she was?
“I fucking hate you-“ She gasped and cried loudly as he started to move his fingers suddenly, rubbing inside her roughly, fast, his bicep flexing with how hard he was moving his hand.
“Yeah, I’ve made myself quite hatable.” He braced his arm on the wall beside her head, his hand moved on the top of her head, his thumb caressing her forehead. “I wanted you to hate me, so you’d leave me the fuck alone.” He hissed, his nose an inch from hers. “But you were driving me absolutely crazy. Sneaking out, doing whatever you wanted, talking to me.” He groaned, as if those memories were still frustrating him. “Then…” He scoffed. “Then you started talking back to me. The fucking nerve.” He growled, actually baring his upped teeth. “I hated it so much. And I hated how it got me hard every. Fucking. Time.”
She cried loudly, panting heavily as she grasped the arm of the hand between her legs like her life depended on it.
He had fucked her fast, hard, and rough, but this, this was beyond whatever he did to her before.
This was on another level.
“Stop-“ Her knees buckled, the pleasure so intense it was starting to make her head dizzy.
“You don’t want me to stop.” He replied immediately, as if he expected her resistance. “You want me to keep going. You want to feel good.” He leaned closer, moving his lips to her ear, his nose pressing against her temple. “I want to make you feel good.” He whispered. “Because if I have learned something from this fucked up play I put on for you…” He turned so his forehead was pressed against hers and he could look at her. “Is that I hate you by someone else’s side. And apparently, I care for you more than I’ve let myself know.”
Her eyes snapped open and met his.
She almost felt suffocating under his gaze.
His pupil was so widened she could barely see the colour of his eye, and her reflection looked like it was falling into a black hole, sucked into darkness.
It felt oddly addictive.
“Come.” His order was the last straw.
With a loud cry, she came harder than she ever had, and her legs failed to keep her standing.
She crumbled on the floor, but didn’t hit hard because Aemond held her and accompanied her down.
She sobbed, hugging her knees to her chest and hiding her face in it.
She must have looked so pathetic.
“I fucking hate you —“ She sobbed. “I hate you so much-“
“Keep hating me then.” He interrupted her, his voice calm. “But I’m taking you home with me.” He grabbed her ankle and tugged her towards him, forcing her to open her ball form and look up at him. “You’re not leaving me again. Fight me all you want, but from now on, you’ll only sleep on my bed. You’ll stay in my home. And you’ll fucking act like my wife. Because you are.” He tugged again at her uncle until she found herself on his lap. “And you’ll never be able to strip yourself of that title. I won’t let you.”
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