description: jacaerys was ecstatic when his mother proposed that he invite his girlfriend along on their annual summer holiday in dorne. two weeks in paradise, endless luxury, the love of his life, and…his entire extended family–what could go wrong?
Warnings: swearing, mentions of sex (no smut in this chap), reader is mentioned to be feminine presenting but no physical features mentioned beyond clothing, a disgustingly large wealth gap (middle class!reader), very toxic family dynamics, no targcest featured in this one (jace, luke, and joffrey are still velaryons but lets not dwell on that)
words: 2.3K
date posted: 19/07/26
next part
The call came late on a Saturday afternoon.
Jacaerys had prided himself on his ability to hole his girlfriend up in his penthouse for days on end; he had the resources to feed, clothe, and entertain her for weeks if he had to, and was never denying himself the opportunity to spend an entire weekend cut off entirely from the outside world, just himself and the love of his life for two and a half consecutive days straight.
He spent his weeks buried deep in his work, but his focus was always somewhat clouded with the vision of his beloved taking up space, just existing in his environment with such ease. He’d yet to ask her to officially move in, but he could feel it coming in the near future, considering that he could hardly sleep a wink on the rare occasion she actually spends the night at her own shoebox apartment all the way across the city. He treated her to breakfast in bed, lazy morning sex followed by long showers where he clings to her the entire time. He took her on any afternoon outing she desired, chauffeuring her around the city for any appointments or activities she may have had on Saturday. Sundays, however, were reserved for a quiet reset. Laundry, grocery shopping, and meal prepping taken care of in the morning so the rest of the day can be spent in their most comfortable clothes with fruity smelling face masks pressed to their skin as they lounge on the couch watching The Real Housewives of Casterly Rock. Nowhere was his favourite place to be with her, where they had no distractions, no obligations other than to be together.
It was just after supper, they were unwinding with a glass of chilled arbor red, on opposite sides of the couch lazily scrolling through their respective social media. Her legs stretched across the cushions, finding their place in his lap while his spare hand cupped the slope of muscle between her half and ankle, his fingers tracing soft patterns against the dragon tattoo just behind her ankle bone.
The loud ringing that interrupted their peaceful silence caused both of them to jump, his phone falling to his lap and revealing his mother’s contact lit up on the screen. He let out a soft snort, his fingers curling around her ankle and offering a comforting squeeze as he reached for the device.
She could barely see the screen from where she laid, craning her neck as Jace accepted the call and his mother’s face appeared on the screen. Her surroundings were dimly lit, most likely her own living room at the Dragonstone Estate just a few hours outside of the city. Her hair was neatly braided back, as usual, and her face still radiated that ethereal beauty that only those of Valyrian descent possessed, though there was a certain tiredness beneath her soft expression.
“Hi mum,” he greeted, “everything alright?”
Rhaenyra’s expression softened through the screen, her response coming with a playful bite, “does something need to be wrong in order to speak to your mother?”
Jace rolled his eyes, “no, of course not. But, I can see that you’re still at the office, so I can only assume.”
“I’m alright, my boy,” she sighed, “things are busy here. Your grandsire is increasingly difficult to work with now that I’ve relocated to Dragonstone. That man knows less and less about computers each time he uses one.”
Jacaerys let out a soft laugh at that. He’d spent the last few summers interning under his grandfather in King’s Landing, and had spent countless lunch breaks ranting to his girlfriend over the phone with the very same complaints. He squeezed her ankle playfully in a silent I-told-you-so, drawing a low giggle from her.
Rhaenyra visibly perked up at the sound–how she had picked up on the quiet noise through the microphone was beyond both of them, but she’d grown incredibly fond of her son’s girlfriend and always bugged him about never seeing her enough.
“Hello my girl,” she said, “Jace, show her to me.”
Jace let out a scoff at his mother’s command, “did you call me because you missed your first born or because you wanted to speak to my girlfriend?”
“I called in hopes of seeing you both,” she said, rather diplomatically, “but especially the future mother of my firstborn’s firstborn. And the others to follow.”
A scarlet flush came to stain Jacaerys’s pale cheeks like a ruthless wave of heat. This drew a sharper laugh from his girlfriend, who had sat up and reached out to snatch the phone from his hand.
“There she is,” Rhaenyra hummed, “lovely as ever. How are you, my love?”
“Hello Miss Targaryen,” the younger woman beamed into the camera, “I’m far better than your son at the moment, it seems.”
Rhaenyra chuckled at that, “my son is utterly devoted to you in every way, and still he cannot handle even the slightest teasing.”
“I am still here,” Jace barked, shifting to lay across his girlfriend’s abdomen so they were both in frame, “I would ask you not to speak about me right to my face, but you two spend more time together than either of you do with me.”
“Oh please,” his girlfriend dismissed him, “we live in different cities, that is not possible.”
“And yet somehow, you manage.”
“That reminds me,” Rhaenyra cut in, “that is exactly why I called. My father has proposed a group trip.”
Jace’s body stiffened as his face lifted off of his girlfriend’s chest, “which group?”
Rhaenyra’s expression twisted, her eyes speaking for her as she pursed her lips, unenthused.
“The family. The whole family.”
“Such as…”
“Myself, you, Luke, and Joff, of course; my father, Alicent, Aegon, Helaena, and Aemond. Daeron has decided to find an internship in Old Town for the spring break, and the offer has been extended to Daemon and Laena, though it doesn’t seem likely that he’ll accept. My father and Daemon have done nothing but bicker for the last few weeks.”
Then, in a honeyed tone, she added the younger woman’s name to the list, “of courseyou are invited to join us as well. I’ve already included you in the numbers for planning, but there is no pressure. We’re thankful enough that you are able to handle Jacaerys, let alone my entire family.”
“Oh–”
Both Rhaenyra and Jace’s expressions shifted at the uncertainty on the girl’s face.
“What is it?” He asked, sitting up straighter as concern flashed through him.
There were a few factors that struck fear into her, starting with the fact that she had never even met the rest of his family beyond his mother and brothers, who seemed so homey and welcoming that she almost forgot that Jace’s grandfather was the king.
The king had extended an invitation for her to join their family vacation–well, he had extended it to his daughter, who extended it to her son, and in extension, to you, but the importance of the details seem to be lost on her. A week spent with the royal family, along with her boyfriend, who is part of the royal family. She suddenly felt that gnawing feeling of inadequacy that she often felt when she was suddenly reminded of how out of her league Jace was.
Then, there was also the issue of her internship. While Jace had secured his own working closely along with his grandfather and his closest advisors, she’d had a harder time finding her own for the summer break, but she had struck gold when she received an offer from a very highly praised law firm to work as their office assistant. It came with many benefits, including a paid vacation time that had not yet been fixed to a date, it seemed like a better excuse than blatantly admitting to her cowardice.
“It’s just…” she felt her cheeks burning as she worked her way to the admission, “I just…I don’t think I could afford it, especially considering I’d be taking a week off for the holiday itself. Perhaps for the winter holidays, or–”
Rhaneyra let out a soft bark of a laugh as she interrupted the younger woman, “I’m very disappointed in my son that it was even a thought in your mind that you would be paying for any of it, my love. It is an invitation, all expenses covered. I want you there, so do Luke and Joff, and even Jacaerys’s grandsire has expressed his interest in meeting you. Besides, I cannot imagine the agony we would all suffer on behalf of Jace being apart from you for more than a few hours.”
“Mum,” Jace said sharply, but his arm only tightened around his girlfriend’s shoulders to confirm his mother’s implication.
“I only jest, my boy,” Rhaenyra laughed, “the decision is yours, darling, but I do hope you consider it.”
The girl glanced up at her boyfriend’s hopeful expression, letting out a sigh, “I’ll think on it. I’ll need to see if I can take the time away from work, and the museum, and–”
“Yes, yes, all of your other engagements,” Rhaenyra pursed her lips, “Jace has told me about how busy you keep yourself during your summer break. Yet another reason you should join us, in my opinion.”
Jacaerys felt his partner’s figure stiffen under his arm at the dismissal. She’d expressed her uncertainty in the past regarding the major wealth and status difference between the two, especially when it came to Jace’s instinct to pay for everything or almost bribe her from her own engagements.
It began with small requests for her to skip class to be with him, which was not often enough to put a stink up over, but enough for her to take note of how he had much less remorse for cutting himself some slack than she typically afforded herself. Then it was him begging her to attend all of his football matches and practices, even when she had other commitments or needed to study; this she could understand his desire for her to be there supporting him, but on the occasion that she was unable to attend, she was often left feeling a touch guilty when she prioritized her future over her relationship.
The issue developed into the first real fight of their relationship, climaxing with a day of no contact, then a week of Jacaerys following her around like a lost puppy seeking her affection. Since then, he’d been more conscious of not making money seem worthless, but still went the extra mile to spoil her as much as she would allow.
Her hand reached down to squeeze his thigh, offering him a small nod of assurance. Sure, it wasn’t always nice to have the limitless wealth of the Targaryens waved in her face so blatantly, but she knew Rhaenyra meant no harm by it.
“We’ll let you know, mum,” Jace cut in, “my girl has herself working harder than anyone I know this summer, let her sleep on it.”
Rhaenyra’s expression shifted, seemingly more alert of how she may have been received, “forgive me, my girl, I didn’t mean to say that your other engagements were lesser or–”
“It’s alright,” she said, “I had to work very hard to earn my internship this summer, so I’ll need to see if I’m able to take the time before I agree.”
“I understand,” Rhaenyra agreed, seemingly a touch embarrassed over the discomfort she’d unintentionally caused, “well, just know that we would all adore it if you could make it, but we will not feel slighted at all. I will speak to you both tomorrow.”
“Love you, mum,” Jace said as he hung up, tossing his phone aside onto the coffee table and shifting his body to lay completely over her body with a groan.
She let out a laugh, hands catching at his ribs as he buried his head into her shoulder.
“Sorry about her,” he mumbled against her bare shoulder, the large sweatshirt of his that she wore shifting away as he laid her back against the cushions, “she can be a bit demanding, I know.”
“I’m not offended,” she responded, fingers carding through his thick curls affectionately, “she means well. Your mother and I both experience struggles that the other could not understand from our upbringings.”
He let out a small huff against her neck, “hm, and you I was spoiled.”
“You,” she tugged at his curls to lift his gaze to meet her own, “are spoiled. But I can be angry with you, but I do not think I could stay cross with your mother for very long. She is a very persuasive woman.”
“You’re the one who spoils me,” he argued, his voice shifting into a playfully mocking tone, “you’ve made me conditioned to need you at all times, woman. Forgive me for being just too besotted by you.”
She giggled at him, her leg lifting to press her heel into his backside in retaliation, “oh shut up. I’m starting to think you don’t want me to come on this holiday afterall.”
He raised a brow, “you think I am actively trying to give up seeing you in sundresses and bathing suits for a week straight?”
“Oh, is that why you want me to come?”
“Mostly,” he grinned at her, “but just think of it, unlimited wine, sunshine, sex on the beach…”
“Need I remind you that your entire family will be there as well?”
He let out a sigh, “fine, fine. Next time we go on holiday though…”
content: Maybe if you say this is the last time enough you will finally mean it.
words: 3.2k
cw: MDNI 18+ p in v, fingering, car sex, possessiveness, toxic situationship themes, mentions of infidelity, reader lowkey makes poor decisions, literally Daemon just sabotaging every man reader tries to replace him with, not proofread, lmk if I missed any
a/n: uncle dragon daddy welcome to julez world
April
Your phone buzzed again, but alas you tried to ignore it. Then again that was proving to be more and more difficult as every minute a new text. The man across from you watching as your eyes snapped down to the buzzing phone.
"You can answer it," he assured, his lips turning up in a tight lipped smile.
You nodded, picking up the device, "I am so sorry, Jacob," you apologized, looking through all the messages.
"Jason," he corrected quietly, but it went unheard to your ears
Daemon Targaryen
Please tell me that you did not actually go out with Jason Lannister.
His forehead is literally bigger than our old house.
His twin has also their shared brain cells.
He probably can't even pronounce our kids names correctly.
Who is watching the kids?
Caraxes is whining at the door
He misses you.
Tells me so himself every day.
[Attached Photo]
See. So depressed, needs you to come home.
You
That is because he likes me more than you.
We also do not share a home nor have we for over a year.
Daemon
Rude.
You never did answer me about Lannister.
You went to type back a snarky reply about how it was none of his business when you heard a coughing from across the table. Your eyes shot up to the man across from you, landing on his forehead.
"Do you need to go?" he asked.
Your eyebrows drew together before you met his eyes once more, "Huh?"
"I figured it was your sitter. You mentioned you had two kids."
"Three," you corrected. "Aegon, Viserys, and Visenya," you listed off.
"Right…" he rubbed the back of his neck. He looked around the restaurant, '"Daemon must have picked those names," he then said.
You scoffed, staring the man in disbelief,"What the fuck does he have to do with this?" you questioned, your anger rising at the mention of the man before you could stop yourself.
You had been divorced from Daemon for over a year, and separated even longer though he refused to acknowledge either of those facts. He still seemed to insert yourself in your life. Showing up randomly for dinners, staying longer after he dropped the kids off, and ending up in your bed after every failed attempt at a date.
"Oh, nothing!" his eyes widened, mouth opening and closing as he looked around at the people nervously as if he was afraid you were about to cause a scene of some sorts, which only pissed you off further. "I just mean they seem like very…" he trailed off for a moment before saying his next words filled with venom. "Targaryen names. Like Aegon, Viserys and Visenna seem more like something he would pick then you."
'Visenya," you corrected, through grit teeth, your body making the decision before you mind even could. You stood to your feet, a forced smile gracing your lips, "I gotta go," you reached down grabbing your bag, "I will call you to reschedule soon, Jacob," you lied, and you wondered if he could tell the way he flinched.
The cool spring even hit you as soon you pushed through the door, as you looked at your phone about to click to see if you could get a lift home. You then heard a whistling and your eyes immediately shot up, "You have got to be kidding me," you muttered, seeing Daemon outside, leaning against the side of his car.
He ignored the comment, but the grin on his face grew, "Did you drive here or would you like a lift home?"
And you should have said that you could find your own ride home. That was not what happened though, and due to…unforeseen circumstances you ended up pulled off onto the side of the road.
Your dress hiked up around your hips with Daemon's cock buried deep into you. Your nail cut down across the skin of his neck, splitting the skin causing him to let out a hiss as you moved back and forth, chasing your own high.
"You gonna cum all over my cock?" he asked, feeling you clench around him, knowing you like the back of his own hand. He sat up, his hands wrapping around your back pulling you closer as you felt the steering wheel drive into your ass.
"Yeah you are. Go ahead, sweetheart let go for me," he whispered,looking up at you, his eyes filled with a sense of awe as he watched you.
You tried to hold off, merely to prove him wrong, but everything was too much. Your orgasm calmed you insistently, much like most things that included Daemon Targaryen. He followed you moments later, with a victorious smile on his lips as he filled you to the brim with his seed as if that was still his right to do so.
Your ragged breaths filled the car, as you stared down at him, and for a moment you forgot what life was like. You ran your hands through the strands of his short hair, staring down at him.
But then he opened his mouth, and brought you back to reality just like he managed to do every single time, "I thought we weren't doing this anymore," he teased, staring up at you, his hands moving up and down your sides soothingly like he knew you liked.
"Fuck you," you muttered, looking away from him, but you felt him chuckle beneath you. "This is the last time," you insisted, your hand reaching out to try and steady yourself, but it merely slipped down the foggy window.
His cock continued to twitch inside you, his spent now leaking out over the sides. He reached up, cupping the side of your face, turning you to face him, a softer expression in his face that he only seemed to get after sex, "I doubt that," he replied honestly.
You rolled your eyes, immediately pulling off him moving to the passenger seat, "Take me home. You can pay the sitter," you said, turning your knees facing the door.
June
The glorious Dornish sun beat down on your skin as you lounged out enjoying the nice weather the holiday was currently providing you with. You watched your three children playing in the sand together with a smile.
You felt your phone buzz from your side, picking it up to check the notification when the man from beside you finally decided to speak for the first time in twenty minutes, ending the beautiful streak of silence he had been providing you with.
"Who are you texting?" Daemon asked, his neck craning slightly as if he would be able to read the thread you had just opened form his spot a few feet away.
You rolled your eyes, finishing out your text, "You are aware you are not my husband right?" you asked, turning to look at him pushing your sunglasses down to the tip of your nose.
He grinned at you, the same one that still caused something inside you to flutter, "You are on vacation with my family seems pretty husbandly to me," you countered with a shrug, pushing his own sunglasses down to mimic you.
You rolled your eyes, "Rhaenyra invited me and the children. You just showed up."
He laughed, as if he was proud of himself,
"Who are you texting?" he asked again.
"Kids! Why don't we head back so we can have a bath before supper!" you called out, ignoring him standing to your feet, "Don't worry about your toys!" You then turned looking to your ex-husband, "Your dad said he would love to pick them all up for you!"
You had put the kids to sleep four hours ago when you found yourself in the hall after sitting sitting in the dining room finishing up last minute work and checking your emails. The Targaryen Summer Home, was big enough that you forgot often there was a whole different family staying with you. As you had not seen a single soul for the last few hours, though if you had to guess you would assume everyone was asleep by now.
All except one it appeared.
Daemon sat outside your door, and if you had to guess he had been sitting there waiting for you. "You look like a lost puppy," you commented, raising an amused brow as you approached him.
"I have been so bored waiting for you to finish with whatever boring thing you were working away on this time of night," he replied pushing himself to his feet.
Your eyes swept over his outfit noticing he was still wearing the same one from earlier, "So instead of being normal and coming to see me in the kitchen you sat outside my door waiting hours for me to come to bed."
He shrugged leaning against the wall, "I did not want to disturb you when you were working. I value my life too much for that," he joked causing you to roll your eyes.
You turned toward him, leaning against the closed door of your provided room, "What do you want, Daemon?" you asked plainly.
The man did not answer instead his eyes dragged over your face, and before you could even process it his mouth was on yours. He switched your possessions, pushing you back against the wall.
Your mouth responded because of muscle memory, or at least that is what you would blame it on tongiht instead of your poor decision making.
His mouth moved down your throat, nipping at the flesh as he kicked your legs apart from the other. You let out a breath as his hands moved down your sides, before he pushed your sleeps shorts to the ground.
"Daemon," you warned, as he left you in only your sleep shirt and panties, but he ignored you, grinning into your beck as he lifted his head meeting your eyes.
"Who were you texting earlier?" he asked, lifting his knee to come between yours keep them separated.
Now should have been when you reprimanded him that you were in a very public hallway, with your children sleeping down the hall, but alas that was not what came form your lips, "None of your fucking business."
"Yeah?" he asked, his fingers trailing up your thighs causing goosebumps to follow in his wake. Your breaths growing faster by the minute as you held his eye contact in challenge, "Yeah
His hands moved slipping your panties to the side, before he let out a satisfied sound as he ran his fingers through your soaked folds, "Tsk. Tsk. You are soaked already."
"Shut up and fuck me or leave me alone," you bit back, already tried of his games this evening.
His grin only widened further at your irritation, "Your awful demanding," he tsked, but his hands moved opening the door, before he guiding you back into your room.
"You like that about me if memory serves."
"Oh, I do. Are you going to run the show tongiht?" he asked, pushing you back toward the bed, his hands moving to remove his top layer of clothing as you did the same.
"Don't I always? Thing would fall to diaster if you were in charge.
He grinned, leaning down to kiss you again, but you stopped him for am moment, "This is the last time," you told him, and though he would usually make a comment back, but he was to eager to bed you.
Though this time did feel different, something he could not really put his finger on. It was slower, more intimate and not just teeth clashing at each other and trying to claim control. It felt more like the love you once shared pouring into the other rather than the angry fucking that had been taking place the last year.
Especially when it was all over, and you leaned up kissing him softly, letting your mouth linger as if you were truly saying goodbye, but he did not believe you. Not fully, but as the weeks passed and nothing more came of it he did wonder if that was truly the last time.
August
Daemon did not even know you were coming to this event tongiht, let alone with a date. A Stark, he could not even remember the name he was told not that you had even introduced the two yet.
So he was left to his own devices on acquiring information. He was around your age maybe younger or maybe older he could not remember. He was handsome. Stern looking, appearing older then he was, and from what the man had managed to gather was more than likely exactly what you needed in your life.
He was stable. He was loyal, and looked at you as if you hung the moon, and by the Gods you seemed happy. You laughed, you smiled and there was a sense of ease that filled you one that had not been seen since your college days.
But he was not Daemon. No one would ever come close to replacing him in your life. His name should be tattooed across your forehead, maybe then the stupid Stark prick would not feel so comfortable flirting with you.
You looked gorgeous tongiht, not that you didn't everything night. And every time he tried to think about what was different tracked back to the man at your side. It was slowly driving him mad as he sat across the hall watching you intently, waiting for you to glance his way.
But you never did. Your eyes did not stray towards him, even though he knew you were well aware he was here. He believed deep down in his core that you could feel him when he entered any room, the very way he could feel you.
Finally he was given an opportunity from some power of above it seemed when you handed your glass to your date and excused yourself. He waited a moment, allowing you to go ahead before he took his chance following after you.
He watched the black material of your dress move out of the hall itself, and into the main entrance before dipping down out of sights toward the bathrooms. He moving, to stand outside the door waiting for you, eyes flickering up and down the secluded hallway as he could hear the commotion of the event carrying on inside.
After what felt like forever to the man the door finally opened, and he could hear your immediate sigh when you locked eyes on him, "Daemon," you greeted, as you moved outside.
He took a step forward, while you immediately took one back, and it hurt more then he would ever want to admit. "Your date is cute. Where did you meet this one?" he asked, as if he were actually interested in the man rather than planning ways to get rid of him as each minute passed.
You hesitated. He could see it clear as day on your face, being able to read you like a book, "His son is in Viserys class," you answered.
Then it suddenly hit the man. You had met him at a class event, one more than likely that he had missed or skipped out on purposefully. He felt as if his throat was closing in around him at the thought, but he remained composed on the outside.
"Right."
You stared at him a moment, as if you were waiting for the shoe to drop. You nodded, "Well. He is nice. I am sure you would like him if your ego would allow it," you told him, there was a certain edge to your voice, showing just how wary of this conversation you were.
"Has he met the kids yet?" he then asked.
"Well, yes. He had met the kids before we had even started dating," you answered honestly, but the title felt like a stab to the chest.
He was not just a man testing the waters out, here on a date. You had been dating for several months he would guess, and if he had to put money on it he would assume he was the reason you had not been with Daemon since Dorne.
You stared at him obviously waiting for him to say something more, but he did not."Goodbye, Daemon," you finally said turning to leave, having had enough of whatever the hell this was.
"When you are ready to leave just let me know," he called out then, his mouth working before his brain could stop himself.
You paused, turning back toward him slowly as you stepped toward him, "What?" you asked, clearly giving him the chance to take it back. To be the bigger man, and allow you some sense of happiness that you clearly fond in Stark.
But when had he ever been the bigger man? When had he ever acted logically, especially in regards to you replacing him?
"Well, I am assuming that after this you will need some real pleasure after weeks of bore," he said with a shrug, ignoring everything that you had been stating prior.
You stare at him in disbelief, before your hand came up connecting with his cheek, "Is this some fucking game to you?"
He did not turn back to look at you, causing you to reach up gripping his chin harshly, "If you didn't want me to be with anyone else then perhaps you should have been a better man," you hissed, finally reaching the end of your patience.
"That's not fair," he whispered, his voice sounding more hurt then he had meant to.
"And you know what is not fair. Sitting at home with three sleeping children wondering where the fuck you are at three in the morning, seeing articles about the different woman that tabloids were speculating you were sleeping with because you decided to go out in party instead of coming home to dinner, or how about coming home to find another woman in my own bed?" you listed off.
You let out a laugh, but it lacked any real humor, "What about when I had three children back-to back to back and went through postpartum pretty much alone or comforting Aegon, Viserys and Visenya who cry every night when bedtime happens because their dad is not home to tuck them in does any of that seem fair to you, Daemon?"
Your voice shook, as the tears collected in your eyes, your grip on his chin tightening with each example, "I am sorry," he whispered, voice raw, full of meaning, but it was too late.
"Sorry is not even close to good enough anymore. I am fucking done with you, Daemon. Grow the fuck up," you let go of his cheek, staring at him a moment, the tears that had collected in your eyes falling down your cheeks. Before pushing out a forced laugh then turning leaving him alone.
Just like he had been lately. Alone in the car. Alone in the giant house that still held reminders of your family. With a dog that whined at the door all day, because even he would rather be with you and feel your love again.
All because he was too stubborn to admit all the feelings that circulated through his brain, and instead self destructed like he always had. When would he ever learn?
Probably never, because he was sure all his chances were gone out the door now.
Breaking Point – Modern Daemon Targaryen x Stepdaughter!reader
Summary: Under house arrest and full of defiance, Daemon's stepdaughter tests every boundary set for her – especially those set by Daemon, who watches over her with cool authority and unexpected patience. Until his patience snaps and he shows her who is in charge.
Pairing: Modern Daemon Targaryen x stepdaughter!reader
Author’s note:
Story posted for Matt Smith's birthday celebration.
English is my second language, please forgive me if I made any mistakes (:
Word count: 3.2 k
Other stories of mine
The clock ticks too loudly. Every second feels like it’s mocking you – a reminder that time moves slower when you’re not allowed to go anywhere.
You lean against the counter, staring out the kitchen window where sunlight dances on the driveway. Freedom looks like heat shimmering off the pavement – just out of reach.
Your phone buzzes once, a message from a friend: You’re missing everything.
You roll your eyes, shove it face-down on the table. You already know you are.
You’re grounded – again. Because apparently, you “don’t take responsibility.” Because your mum said so. Because Daemon agreed.
Now she’s gone for the weekend, and he’s the one stuck making sure you don’t sneak out. Lucky him.
He’s been in the next room all afternoon, quiet but present – that kind of presence that fills a space even when you can’t see him. It grates on you. You can feel his attention, even when it’s not on you.
So you move a little slower. You reach higher than you need to when you grab a glass from the shelf. You let the cupboard door close with a little too much force.
Maybe he’ll say something. Maybe he won’t.
You tell yourself it’s just boredom, that you’re only pushing boundaries because there’s nothing else to do.
But a part of you likes seeing how far you can go before he reminds you who’s actually in charge.
Of course he hears the cupboard door slam shut.
But Daemon doesn’t look up right away; he knows that silence unsettles you more than scolding ever could. The rustle of glass, the exaggerated sigh, the way you move just loud enough to be noticed – all of it was deliberate.
You want a reaction.
He closes the book in his hands, let the quiet stretch a moment longer.
“Do you plan to break everything in the kitchen, or is this performance going somewhere?”
Your head snap around, just slightly, like you hadn’t expected him to speak – or maybe you have, and this is exactly the moment you’ve been waiting for.
He leans back in the chair, the faintest trace of amusement crossing his face. And then you hear his voice again.
“You’ve been pacing for an hour,” he goes on. “If you’re trying to convince me you’re suffering, congratulations. It’s working.”
You mutter something under your breath – too quiet to make out, but sharp enough to catch his attention.
“You can keep testing me,” Daemon says, voice low, steady, “but you might not like where that ends.”
For a heartbeat, the room goes still again.
The sound of the ticking clock fills the space again.
Daemon doesn’t smile, though a part of him wanted to. The game was simple, predictable, even. But there is something about the defiance in you that almost made him respect it.
Almost.
Daemon exhales slowly, the sound almost a growl of irritation as he pushes his chair back. The legs scraped against the floor, sharp against the quiet. He’s had enough of your little storm in the kitchen.
When he steps through the doorway, you are exactly as he expects – leaning against the counter, arms folded, chin lifted just enough to look defiant. Every line of your posture screamed challenge.
He doesn’t say anything at first. His eyes moves, not in appraisal, but in assessment… Reading the mood, the intent behind every calculated sigh, every flick of your gaze. You want to be seen; you want to be the one who breaks his calm.
“Done?” he asked finally, voice low, even.
“You’re not very good at pretending you don’t want attention,” he says.
But his eyes narrow as he takes in the sight before him. This cheeky little thing, dancing around almost naked and trying to seduce him. As if he hadn't already seen countless times in his imagination what was hidden beneath those scraps of fabric.
But you are his girlfriend's daughter – that's too forbidden. Still, he can't help but let his gaze wander over your voluptuous curves and soak in every inch of your exposed skin. Suddenly, the memory of the last barbecue flashes through his mind... Of you sitting on his lap at one point, your firm bum nestling against his hardening cock... He can't help it, his trousers are getting a little tighter – again.
“I thought I told you to stay put,“ Daemon says in a low voice that crackles with warning, even though a desire stirs deep in his belly. “Your mother left strict instructions.“
He approaches without hurrying, with a deliberateness that makes each step seem heavier than the last. You can feel the air change as he stops a few feet in front of you. Up close, the thin fabric of your top barely covers the pink tips of your nipples, which stand out against it, but he tries not to look.
You don't move. You just roll your eyes, and a hint of defiance plays around your mouth.
“Don't worry, Daddy... I just needed a drink,“ you say, lifting the glass slightly as if to prove your innocence. “Then I'll go back.“
There it is – that little, subtle word. The way you always call him ‘Daddy’, in that teasing tone of voice... and how it goes straight to his cock.
Daemon's gaze wanders from the glass to your face – unreadable, but sharp enough that you look away for a second too long.
“Make sure you do,“ he finally says, his words quiet but carrying more weight than if he had shouted them.
The clock ticks again. Too loud. Too steady.
But you just roll your eyes again before turning and leaning forward slightly to grab another glass, your skirt, which is already much too short, riding up even further... Daemon tries to ignore your not-so-subtle teasing, but his gaze darts down, where he catches a glimpse of your lace thong.
Fuck.
But he looks away.
But he can't deny that the sight of your lace covered pussy peeking out from under that scandalously short skirt makes his cock twitch traitorously in his trousers.
Fuck, this girl is going to be the death of me.
But he is determined not to give in to the temptation, no matter how much his body urges him to bend you over the counter and take what is rightfully his. It takes all his willpower not to rip those laces off and bury himself balls deep in your tight heat right here in the kitchen.
He grits his teeth, his feet following his gaze, and he walks to the bar before pouring himself a large glass of whisky instead and downing it in one burning gulp, hoping the alcohol will numb the constant ache of arousal your presence stirs in him.
“And where exactly did your mother tell you to wait? In your bedroom, if I remember correctly.“ His tone drips with disapproval, though it sounds more like a growl than a reprimand. “Go back upstairs. Now. That's an order,“ and he fixes you with a look that challenges you to defy him. A muscle worked in his jaw as he fought to pull the temper back under control.
And you roll your eyes again. “I’m allowed to drink water, aren’t I?” you say, tone light but edged with challenge – you love this constant back and forth between the two of you. You grab the glass from the counter, take a sip, then glance at him – deliberate, almost taunting. “I didn’t even do anything that bad anyway, Daddy,” you add, the hint of a pout tugging at your lips.
Daemon’s jaw tightens again. That look – that feigned innocence you wore like armor – has a way of cutting straight through his patience. It only inflames his anger and lust in equal measure. How dare you test his limits like this. If you weren't such a tempting little tease, maybe he could resist you better. But you know exactly what you're doing with that doe eyed innocence masking your depravity.
“Drinking isn’t the problem, you insolent child” he says, voice low but vibrating with restraint. “It’s the way you think rules don’t apply to you.”
The tumbler in his hand hit the counter a little too hard – not shattered, but the sharp crack of glass on stone made you flinch anyway.
“And you‘re acting like a spoiled brat who needs her bottom spanked raw until she learns some respect!“
The words come out rougher than intended, tinged with the rage of being pushed to his breaking point. In a flash, he grabs your arm and drags you over to the nearest chair, ignoring your startled squeal.
“Bend over my knee. Now.“
There's no room for argument in his clipped command.
You look at him with wide eyes – your cheeky behaviour disappears in an instant. When he tells you to bend over his knee, you hesitate for a moment.
“What... Daddy, no...“ you whimper, but Daemon has had enough of your cheeky behaviour. He pulls you down roughly, and you squeal again, but you're already lying across his strong thigh. Your heart is racing and you bite your lower lip nervously. You feel your face turning red with embarrassment and something else... Arousal?
As soon as your delectable ass is presented so perfectly over his lap, he wastes no time, pushing up your skirt and delivering a resounding smack to your upturned cheeks.
The sharp crack echoes obscenely in the silent kitchen as your tender flesh jiggles enticingly from the impact.
“That's for rolling your eyes at me, you ungrateful wretch,“ he growls, punctuating his harsh scolding with another searing slap. Soon he falls into a relentless rhythm, alternating cheeks as he rain hellfire upon your poor posterior.
“Count them out loud“
Each smack sends shockwaves through your body, igniting a painful pleasure deep within your core. You cry out sharply, writhing atop his powerful thigh as he lays siege to your defenseless rear end.
“A-one!“ you gasp out between gritted teeth, your toes curling.
“A-two!“
The stinging blows continue to pepper your heated skin, leaving no doubt who's in charge here. Your pussy starts to throbs incessantly, growing slick with need as the punishments escalate. By the time you reach double digits, tears prick at the corners of your eyes and you‘re squirming uncontrollably, your clit aching for stimulation.
“A-ten!“
Your pert globes are surely glowing crimson beneath his palm. He can feel your body trembling against his, whether from pain or shame or illicit excitement, he cares not. All that matters is putting you in your place and reminding you of your role as his submissive little princess.
“Please Daddy, I've learned my lesson!“ you whimper, uncaring of how desperate you sound.
But each strike seems to echo directly to his throbbing erection, punishing him for these sinful urges he cannot control.
Seeing you reduced to a needy, pleading mess sprawled across his lap gives him an immense sense of satisfaction and pride. You look utterly debauched with your ass aflame and juices likely staining your laces. But your pleas only fuel his sadistic desires to push you further.
“We're far from done yet, pet,“ he croons darkly, trailing his fingers teasingly along the crease of your bruised bottom. Dipping lower, he brushes ever so lightly over your drenched mound through the damp lace.
“My my, what's this I feel? Is my good girl secretly enjoying her punishment?“
Without warning, he rips your flimsy underwear clean off and toss the ruined scrap somewhere behind you. A choked sob escapes your lips as he roughly strips it away, leaving you bare and vulnerable to his hungry gaze. The air feels cool against your feverish sex, making you shiver and clench needily.
“No more hiding from me. Keep counting.“
Your face burns with humiliation knowing he can plainly see how wet he‘s made you, despite the pain. Or perhaps because of it.
“Oh god... “ you whimper pitifully, struggling to maintain composure as his calloused hand caresses your most intimate area. Shame wars with arousal inside you, neither winning out completely.
“A-thirteen! Fourteen!" you count breathlessly, voice rising an octave as he now torments your sensitive folds, stroking them while his other hand takes care of your ass. Each word falls from your mouth like a prayer, seeking absolution for the sinful thoughts plaguing your mind.
You wail, back arching as you grind yourself shamelessly against his thigh, while he slaps your ass.
“There we go, such a perfect slut for Daddy's hand,“ he praises condescendingly, spanking you harder to match the intensity of your depravity. He spreads your reddened cheeks apart ruthlessly, exposing your dripping slit to the cool air.
His cock strains violently against his zipper, dying to plunge into your silken sheath and claim you thoroughly. But first, he intends to milk every ounce of ecstasy from your quivering form.
“Soaked and swollen, gagging for it aren't you babygirl? Desperate for me to stuff you full... “ Plunging two thick fingers knuckle deep into your clutching channel, he sets a brutal pace meant to wring screaming orgasms from your helpless body. Curling them just right, he rubs mercilessly against that spongy spot inside you as he rails into your sopping cunt.
“Eighteen!“
You keen loudly, head thrown back in ecstasy as he fingerfucks you savagely. Pleasure crashes through your veins like wildfire, your neglected clit throbs almost painfully, aching for attention. Incoherent babble spills from your lips between broken moans. The wet squelch of his digits pumping into your greedy hole fills the room, mixing lewdly with the rhythmic smacks of his palm against your abused rump.
“P-please Daddy, please I need... “ you mewl desperately, grinding your hips to meet his thrusts. Sweat beads on your brow as you climb higher, chasing the ultimate peak. Tears stream freely down your flushed cheeks, though whether from pain or overwhelming sensation, you can no longer tell.
But your utter surrender to the filthy act only spurs him on, pushing him to new heights of sadistic bliss. He revels in the knowledge that he alone holds power over your pleasure, able to grant or deny as he sees fit. Right now, seeing you fall apart on his fingers is all he craves. But sensing your impending climax, he withdraws abruptly, leaving you empty and whining pathetically.
Shock registers across your tear streaked face as he abruptly cease his ministrations, denying you release at the crucial moment. Slick arousal coats his hand as he brings it to his lips, sucking your essence from his skin with a rumbling groan.
“Such a sweet little treat, and all mine. But you don't get to cum until I allow it, understand?“
Frustration builds to a fever pitch, your untouched body shaking with the force of your restraint.
“Daddy. please,“ you wail, trying valiantly to buck your hips and capture his retreating fingers. But humiliation singes your cheeks as he samples your flavor so crassly, tasting how much he affects you.
Spreading your battered cheeks wide, he spits crudely onto your twitching rosebud, watching it flutter invitingly. Slowly, he circles your virgin entrance with a spit slick digit, applying gradual pressure.
“Open up for Daddy, princess. Let me stretch this tight pucker so I can fill you properly.“
At the first touch to your most private place, you stiffen instinctively, muscles clamping down tight. Never before has anyone dared venture there, the taboo nature sending thrills straight to your core. You hiss through clenched teeth, fighting the urge to bear down as he breaches your resistant rim. The burn of intrusion mingles with dark anticipation, your body torn between fleeing and welcoming this new level of degradation.
But whines spill unchecked from your pretty lips as he torments your untried starburst, reveling in every tremor and gasp. Slowly, he sinks his middle finger past your iron clad ring of muscle, letting you adjust to the foreign feeling of fullness. Your silken walls clasp him vice tight, as if afraid to lose this tentative connection.
“Shhh, breathe through it babygirl,“ he soothes darkly, working his digit deeper inch by tortuous inch. Once buried to the hilt, he begins shallow pumps – slowly stretching your previously virgin passage.
Pain and pleasure intertwine deliciously, coiling tighter and tighter within your core. His hands fist in the fabric of your skirt as tremors rack your slight frame. Wet sounds of obscene suction mingle with your keening cries.
A strangled moan tears free as he thrusts in as deep as he can, over and over again, your anal walls fluttering wildly around his invading finger. The unfamiliar sensation of fullness warring with the intense burn of being stretched beyond your limits. But then he adds another finger and you moan as your pussy drips while he stretches you further.
Lust surges hot and fierce through his veins as he watches your hole clench greedily around his fingers, so eager to be taken... it's a heady rush he never wish to end.
Two thick digits plunge into your tight heat, your walls clenching like a vise around them. Growling approvingly, he works them steadily, scissoring and twisting to open you wider.
Every thrust, every twist of his fingers, only serves to wind the coil tighter, pushing you closer to the edge of oblivion.
“Look at you, so wantonly stuffed in your tiny ass. Like you were made to be Daddy's fucktoy.“
Sliding his free hand up to tease your throbbing pearl, he circles the sensitive bundle of nerves maddeningly slow.
“Cum for me babygirl, soak Daddy's hand“
Pained whimpers morph into high pitched moans as you hear his your vulgar praise. Your voice rises in pitch and volume as he zeros in on your aching clit, each lazy rotation sending lightning bolts straight to your core. Pressure builds rapidly, cresting impossibly high as your climax threatens to overwhelm you.
The sight of you losing yourself to mind numbing pleasure at his hand, writhing and mewling like a bitch in heat, is almost too much to withstand.
“That's it, cream all over Daddy's fingers like a good girl,“ he croons, extending your rapture as long as possible with carefully aimed strokes against your walls, thrusting his fingers deeper. Abusing your clit with his other hand, he rubs quick circles around the engorged bud, forcing you to ride out wave after wave of toe curling bliss.
He milks every shudder and jerk of ecstasy until your limp, satisfied weight collapses over his thighs.Withdrawing gently, he brings his soaked digits to his lips once more, groaning at the mixed taste of your arousal and the musky proof of your anal virginal sacrifice.
Completely exhausted, his hands grab you and he helps you sit up straight – you sink limply against him, weakly nestling against the warm strength of his chest as you struggle to catch your breath.
His praise floods over you, washing away any remaining doubts and replacing them with an intoxicating mixture of satisfaction and desire as his hands glide soothingly up and down your back.
pairing: modern!aemond × fem!reader (friend with benefits)
summary: you're always there, hoping for more. to be more. to mean more and something real. but that's not what he wants, always drawing the line. until… you just can't take it anymore.
words: 19k
sorry for the delay and also sorry this is too long. i won't promise anything next time 😅 and please comment, i want to hear your opinions, a reblog is also appreciated guys.
my masterlist • next part
warnings: angst, sex content, heartbreak.
The first time you met Aemond, it was in the same way everyone else did and in his main way of making himself known to people: quiet, calm and reserved.
If you didn't have friends in common, you know you would never have been able to get close to him. But it was your small group of friends in college that brought you together with him; Alysanne, Sara, Cregan and Jason.
From the beginning, Aemond seemed to exist in his own orbit.
While the others fill the spaces with laughter and conversation, he preferred silence. He is like a constant shadow in the group, always present but not fully integrated.
He usually didn't speak much in topics of conversation, but when he did, his voice is quiet, soft and even soothing that it was almost hypnotic.
And maybe that was what first caught your attention. Something about the way he was, that unwavering distance and tranquility that wasn't arrogant, but almost… carefree.
You understand that he befriended Cregan in one of the classes they shared together. And it was Cregan who gradually included him in the group, at the same time that Sara was also including you.
You soon noticed that, although he was present at meetings and outings, there was a pattern in his behavior.
He talked more with Cregan and Jason, not with the same ease with which they talked to each other, but with a ease that he didn't have with Alysanne, Sara or you.
It's not that he was rude, when you addressed him a few times, he responded politely, but his tone was always restrained, measured.
And not only that, you also notice that as soon as someone tries to get too close, invisible walls rise around him, high and impenetrable. And his selectivity with the people he surrounds himself with, or talks to, becomes all too noticeable.
Even in the group chat Alysanne had created, he doesn't say much. In fact, he doesn't say anything at all.
He never initiated conversations or left casual comments compared to the others. And when he did write, it was only when someone asked him a question. Sometimes days or weeks would go by without his name coming up in conversation.
And, at least, at first… you didn't think much of him.
Aemond was just another presence in the group, someone with whom you shared moments but not necessarily a connection, let alone a friendship, at all. You just kept in mind that his reserved and carefree attitude made him different.
Although over time, you began to notice certain things about him that began to catch your attention.
The way he kept his distance even when surrounded by people. The ease with which he glided through life without worrying about fitting in or pleasing anyone. And the way he showed no interest in being heard or belonging.
He didn't show his emotions and it was hard to read. As well as it was hard to tell what he was thinking about, if he was thinking about anything at all.
That made him even more intriguing and that was the way he inevitably began to draw your interest.
Not because you hoped to change him or because you wanted to discover some secret hidden behind his distant attitude, but because, without even trying, he stood out from everyone else.
While the others sought validation in shared laughter and endless conversation, Aemond didn't care about any of that. And worst of all, no matter how hard you tried to ignore him, every time you saw him, every time you suddenly heard his voice, you felt something twisting inside you.
At first, you justified it as simple curiosity. But curiosity doesn't explain the way your attention kept coming back to him.
How you found yourself looking for him at every meeting, how you waited for him to speak, even if it was just to answer a simple question, and how, despite his indifference, you began to realize that you wanted him closer.
It also didn't help with how incredibly attractive he is.
Despite the scar down the middle of his face and the eye he doesn't have, actually being a prosthetic, he is beautiful.
An accident, Cregan told you, when you asked him, to get a little more information about him. But that was all he told you and with a tone that made it clear to you that he didn't even know that much. So you didn't press the subject.
Not because you weren't curious, but because you knew that Aemond is the kind of person who doesn't talk about certain things with just anyone. And over time, that distance between the two of you began to bother you.
You wanted to get to know him beyond the few words he shared with the group, beyond the occasional comments he made. So, one day, you decided to try to get closer to him.
Try to break down his walls with you.
A difficult thing to do, considering everyone knows what he's like. But not impossible. Or at least that's what you told yourself.
You have an advantage, considering you both belong to the same group of friends. But you know that won't make it any less difficult, still, it's something in your favor. The problem was that you needed an excuse.
You couldn't just show up and talk to him for no reason. You needed something that would get his attention so he would talk back to you to keep him. But there was nothing. There was no specific topic, no common theme or shared class, nothing.
But you would find it. You had to.
Until one day, you saw a change in him. So slight and so small it could barely be noticed. Anyone else wouldn't have even noticed, but you did.
A change in his cold and disinterested attitude, which was suddenly colder and more disinterested. He was more serious than usual. He didn't speak at all unless the guys asked him something.
And his look… serious and even annoyed, with slumped shoulders and as if he was more lost in thought than usual. From the morning, when he arrives on campus with his usual air of indifference, you notice that change in him.
And on a Friday, as the day goes by normally, you can't take your eyes off him.
At lunch, the group gathers in the gardens for lunch, as usual, talking about everything and nothing at the same time. Jason and Cregan talk about their usual anecdotes, Alysanne and Sara laugh and tease them and he… completely silent.
Sitting at the end of the table, he has only a bottle of water in front of him, which he sips from time to time. He does not join in the conversation and gazes off into the horizon, lost in thought.
But his tense posture, hard stare and clenched jaw, you notice all that. You want to talk to him. Ask him if he's okay. But you don't want to bother him. However, Jason notices it too and thankfully asks him.
“What's wrong, dude? Aren't you going to eat?”
You immediately watch them intently.
“I'm not hungry,” he replies simply and without emotion.
“And why is that? Everything okay with you?”
Aemond nods without saying anything else. He doesn't explain, and Jason doesn't insist. Neither do the others. They simply continue the conversation as if nothing had happened.
To them, Aemond has always been like that; reserved, quiet and indifferent. But you know there's more to it.
The minutes pass and you don't know what to do. You think about what would be the most ideal way to approach him. But nothing comes to mind.
Then he suddenly stands up and tells Cregan quietly that he will be leaving for his next class. He doesn't say goodbye to the others, just hangs his backpack over his shoulder and leaves.
And it's in that instant that you make a decision.
You don't know if it's a good idea. You don't know if it will work. And you hesitate, as you watch him walk off into the distance.
You could approach him, ask him if he's okay. But you know he'll most likely pull your back out before you can even try. So instead, you pull out your phone, unlock the screen, open the messaging app and start typing.
'Hey, are you okay?'
Simple. Subtle. Polite. You don't look at it the wrong way. In fact, it might work. Still, nerves wash over you, actually not so sure. But you finally take a deep breath and press send.
Honestly, you don't know why you thought he'd respond right away. Or that at the very least, his response would come in maybe ten or fifteen minutes.
By the time night falls and you're lying in your bed, rolling through your social media and no new messages, you begin to accept that he won't reply. And that he probably just ignored the message because he's not the least bit interested.
You sigh and put your phone aside, trying to push the topic out of your mind. But just as sleep begins to grip you, the vibration of your phone startles you.
You pick up the device quickly, a spark of hope lighting up your chest, only to have it shut off abruptly when you read his reply.
'Who are you?'
Embarrassment hits you so hard you feel heat rise to your face.
Disillusion and disappointment that he doesn't even have you in his contacts. You mean… you both belong to the same group of friends and you're both in the same group chat. And he doesn't have your number?
You bite the inside of your cheek, seriously considering not saying anything else to him and pretending this never happened.
But after staring at the message for a few long minutes, you let go of the humiliation and reply in the hope that he'll get back to you in a few minutes and not until tomorrow.
'I'm Y/N.'
A few minutes pass, at most three, but you feel them eternal. All is silence, until his next message comes through.
'Why do you ask that?'
You press your lips together, rereading the screen. It could be genuine curiosity… or it could be his way of making you feel even more out of place. But you don't take it back. Not this time and not anymore.
So you sigh, settle better in bed and decide to be honest.
'Well, I saw you really off today and I just wanted to make sure you're okay.'
The 'read' indicator almost to the second, makes your heart skip a beat. And you watch, expecting to see the 'typing' later.
But seconds pass and nothing. And you watch your screen more intently, as if that will magically make him decide to write you when you want him to. And when you see that he has left you on read, again the embarrassment invades you.
When suddenly, the ´typing´ appears and your heart skips a beat. And finally, his reply.
'I'm fine.'
Two words. Nothing more.
You bite your lip, reading the message over and over, not entirely what you expected and increasingly convinced that this is going to be harder than you thought.
It's not a closed response, but it's not an invitation to continue the conversation either. You could leave it at that. Decide that you did your part and that, if he doesn't want to talk, you can't force him.
But something in you is resisting. You don't want to leave it at that even though you know you're going to be disappointed and that this, his attitude, won't change overnight.
But at least you can be honest. So you write and send the message before you regret it.
'If you need someone to talk to, I'm here.'
And again, you wait.
Surprisingly, he reads your message within a second. However, disappointment again overcomes you when you read his immediate, curt reply.
'Thanks.'
All hope, anticipation and excitement evaporates from your body. You stand there for a moment doing nothing, thinking about what else to write him, wanting to be more sincere and show him that he's counting on you.
'I mean it. I'm here for you, Aemond.'
That's something you'd like to hear if you're not feeling at your best. Knowing that there's someone who cares about you and your well-being, too, would help a lot.
However, the minutes tick by and this time Aemond's reply never comes. Nor does it come all weekend.
You're hoping that at college maybe he'll reach out after the brief text exchange, even… thank you personally for caring about him, text him or something, you don't even know but you're hoping for something, anything.
But you had to know that he would remain just as distant and cold as always.
Disillusioned, you keep noticing that slight pain he seems to be stuck in but is trying to ignore every time you all get together, without anyone else noticing.
You watch him from a distance, attentive and hopeful, but disappointed that you are unsuccessful in every approach to him to initiate a conversation.
Even after the two of you spoke by message, he has no interest in talking to you in person. And he barely notices your presence, as if you weren't even there.
That hurt you, but you understood that it was about what's going on in his mind and whatever it is that has him so depressed, not because you were really the problem.
So during a meeting on campus waiting for the next class to start, everyone discusses their weekend plans.
“There's a party tonight at the Martell frat house,” Cregan announces excitedly, “It's going to be great, they always know how to make a good scandal.”
Everyone begins to agree to attend, sharing laughs and jokes about the last time they went to a Martell party, even Alysanne and Sara, already planning their outfits for the night, except for you and Aemond.
Parties aren't your favorite place, though you've been to several before and always manage to have a good time with help from the girls. And Aemond being quiet catches Jason's attention.
“You'll come, won't you?” he asks him as he gives him a friendly tap on the shoulder.
He shrugs, starting to take a cigarette from his pocket along with the lighter, not caring at all about the subject of the party.
“I don't know.”
Jason frowns, watching him blankly.
“You don't know?”
“Who doesn't know?” inquires Cregan instantly, listening intently and confused.
Jason points it out but Aemond nonchalantly lights his cigarette, while you watch the interaction of the three of them, but always focus entirely on him.
“But you always come over,” Cregan tells him just as confused as Jason.
“It'll be fun,” Jason continues, ”Besides, it's Friday night. What else could you be doing?”
“I don't really feel like going to a party,” he says, just as nonchalant as before.
“Oh, come on,” Jason urges, “We deserve it, you especially after the hell of projects we've had to submit. We need to de-stress.”
“And besides you'll be with us, what can go wrong?” says Cregan to him with his tone full of optimism, trying to convince him.
“Everything,” he tells him in his equally soft and low tone of voice as always, causing a chuckle between both boys.
“But it'll be fun, come on.”
He focuses his gaze on an unimportant point and you, listening to the conversation intently, feel that little spark in your chest lingering, watching him hopefully for him to say yes.
Then you decide to add your voice to convince him.
“You should come,” you say, catching the attention of the three of them, with your shy but firm look and voice, ”It might be a good distraction and it will help you clear your mind.”
Not exactly the best words but you try and feel your heart start to beat fast in your chest from nerves as you watch his eye meet yours.
But it doesn't last too long as Cregan speaks again.
“Yeah, dude. Let's all go together. I don't think you'll get bored but if you do, we can always leave early or switch parties, whichever is better.”
The three of them watch him expectantly for his response, to which he is a little overwhelmed by the attention. But he finally lets out a resigned sigh, feeling the weight of his friends' expectations, and nods slowly, lowering his gaze and refocusing on his cigarette.
“Fine,” he says in a low but determined voice. “But don't expect me to stay all night.”
The answer sparks a small celebration between Cregan and Jason, who pat him on the back and you avoid smiling big, pursing your lips.
“Great! That's all we asked for, mate.”
“It'll be fun, you'll see.”
Everyone else speaks again, except for him and you, as you stare at him for a brief moment, feeling the spark of hope grow bigger inside you.
Tonight may be the opportunity you need to reach out and create connection with him. Besides, it's a party, everyone will be relaxed and surely he will be too, so you can't miss the opportunity.
The night arrives and with it, the anticipation of the party at the Martell fraternity house.
As you approach the imposing house you notice the pulsating lights and vibrant music that can be heard from yards away, promising a fun and energetic night. With Alysanne and Sara, you see the groups of people talking and laughing at every corner, drinking and smoking.
And as you enter the house, the party is in full bloom, with everyone dancing and having a good time, with the smell of beer, cigarettes and even weed lingering in the air, causing Alysanne and Sara to quickly immerse themselves in the atmosphere, pulling you along with them very excitedly to where everyone is dancing.
The energy around you is contagious and as the minutes pass, you catch yourself laughing and dancing, where your worries momentarily fade away amidst the bright lights and pulsating rhythms, enjoying the moment.
Yet there is still that anticipation in you, that excitement as you look out the front door and in all directions, waiting to see him.
And in the middle of dancing with your friends, singing the songs of the moment at the top of your lungs and enjoying the energy of the whole party, just as your gaze briefly focuses on your surroundings, you finally spot a figure with silver hair moving through the crowd.
With a jolt in your heart, you focus your gaze and recognize Aemond.
He moves with a quiet grace, but his expression is a mixture of discomfort and determination. He weaves his way through the people, his gaze scanning the entire place, as if seeking a refuge or maybe a familiar face.
His posture and energy is oblivious to the frenetic energy of the party with his deliberate movements and nonchalant attitude.
And you continue to watch him, with the hustle and bustle of the party fading around you and focusing entirely on him.
You feel a mixture of relief and happiness at seeing him, relief that he has come and happiness that tonight you will finally be able to get close to him.
Aemond continues to approach the epicenter of the party, when on his way he finally meets Cregan and Jason, who greet him enthusiastically and hand him a drink almost instantly, integrating him into the atmosphere and enveloping him in their conversation.
Over drinks and cigarettes, as well as after some banter and laughter, Aemond finally begins to relax, though his movements are more restrained than the others. He would prefer less noise, but it is a party after all.
And you watch from a distance, seeing how the guys entertain him and integrate him into the party, noticing how his posture relaxes more and his expression softens, holding a bottle of beer in his hand and a cigarette in the other.
You know that now is not the time to get close, you want to let him find his own pace without pressure, so you stay in your place, enjoying the company of your friends and also the whole party.
Afterwards you join your friends for more drinks, they insist on taking pictures and videos together, you dance some more, go to get some fresh air because of how suffocated it is and when you look back towards the guys, Aemond is not there.
Cregan and Jason are there with some girls, but he especially is nowhere to be seen. You begin to feel a twinge of unease and start to move slyly through the crowd, looking for his familiar figure.
Until you decide to approach and ask for him or else you'll never be able to find him among all the people already at the party and the people still still entering the house.
“Hey,” you approach towards them, with a relaxed attitude, trying to look casual, ”Where's Aemond? I saw him arrive earlier.”
Cregan turns to you, smiling, while Jason blinks several times as if trying to remember.
“Oh, yeah, he went out a few minutes ago.”
“I think that way,” Cregan points to the backyard with a nod, ”Maybe he needed air or something, he said he'd be back soon.”
You decide to look for him discreetly, making your way through all the students, but the house is full, even more so than it was a few moments ago, with the heat and bustle starting to make you feel overwhelmed.
You think to yourself that he probably went to the bathroom, but minutes pass and being with the girls, you keep looking for him but he's nowhere to be seen.
And that's when you think about the possibility that he has decided to leave.
This leaves you with an empty feeling in your chest and you look around, letting out a long breath and inevitably already starting to feel disappointed.
You continue to scan the place in hope, but minutes pass and there is no sign of him at all.
“Hey,” Alysanne calls out to you, “What's up?” she watches you intently and with a soft smile on her lips.
“Oh… n-nothing,” you act casual, “I just need to go to the bathroom,” you point out, “I'll be right back, okay?”
“You want me to come with you?”
“No, no, don't worry, it's fine,” you assure her instantly.
Again you make your way through the students and head towards the stairs, hoping to find an empty room or a space with fewer people, since you don't really need to go to the bathroom.
At this point you already feel too overwhelmed with the music and all the people that keep arriving, making it impossible to walk. So you just want to breathe and have some peace and quiet.
Fortunately the corridors on the second floor are not so crowded, there are people, yes, but nothing like down there and you try to open the doors, cautious of course, afraid of interrupting some compromising scene.
Until finally the last door opens and it's an empty room, clearly decorated with the personal touch of one of the frat boys.
You sigh and close the door behind you, stepping inside, barely hearing the sound of music up to here and all the chaos. You plop down on the edge of the bed, trying to calm your mind and feeling the tension in your feet give way after all that dancing.
The minutes pass and although you try to distract yourself with anything on your phone, again the disappointment invades you and so does the thought, without being able to help it.
You have failed to keep in touch with Aemond and at this rate, it seems you will never succeed.
He is quite an enigma, very reserved, indifferent to the attentions that many girls in college would long to receive from him and that is what confuses you.
You think of his brother Aegon, whose behavior is the complete opposite.
Aegon adores the attention of girls, his adventures are scattered all over campus and yet, Aemond is a mystery, so secretive that even a simple friendship with him seems out of reach.
And these differences between the two brothers only add another layer of confusion to your feelings for Aemond. You can't help but wonder why someone like him, so aloof and closed off, appeals to you so much.
He won't even give you the time of day, he barely acknowledges your existence when you're in a group with the guys, his gaze barely rests on you, and whenever you try to talk to him, he barely responds and then brushes you aside with an indifference that leaves you feeling completely invisible.
Then why? Why do you keep trying?
You don't even know.
You get up and start walking slowly around the room, trying to calm your thoughts, not really knowing what to do.
You think maybe you should go back to your dorm, since you really don't want to go back down there with all the people and the commotion. But you know that Alysanne and Sara are still enjoying themselves and you leave alone.
You sit back down on the bed and run a hand across your forehead, letting out a sigh, when suddenly, the bedroom door opens and you look up almost instantly.
And then your heart leaps with anticipation and surprise.
Aemond appears under the threshold, his eye meeting yours and you both stand for a moment motionless, saying nothing.
He scans your face and the room as well, while you continue to stare at him in surprise, definitely not expecting him to appear here at all. And there's something particularly in his gaze that tells you he's also looking for shelter from the party. When again his gaze focuses on you.
"I'm sorry," he says to you, in a low, unconcerned voice, "I didn't know anyone was here."
You say nothing for a few seconds, but force yourself to react.
"It's okay," you say quickly, trying to sound calm, "Don't worry."
Again the anticipation grows inside you, this time stronger, mingling with unexpected joy.
He is not gone.
He is here.
And that rekindles the spark of hope in you, which makes you strive to keep your expression relaxed and less surprised, trying to look completely casual and act normal.
A silence settles between you, one that is both awkward and full of potential, to which you try to speak but Aemond speaks first, taking a step back and with his hand still on the knob.
"Am I bothering you?" he asks, his gaze studying you.
"No, not at all," you reply immediately, your words coming out a little more hastily than you intended.
This instantly embarrasses you and you lower your gaze for a moment, clearing your throat.
"I mean, no," you say more relaxed and in a soft tone, "It's okay if you stay. You're not bothering me," you offer him a small, tight-lipped smile, "I guess you want to hide for a while."
He looks out into the hallway, seeming to consider your words for a moment, then lets out a sigh, again watching you and finally enters the room with soft steps, closing the door behind him.
"From Cregan and Jason specifically."
You let out a small chuckle under your breath, wanting to create that light and easy atmosphere between the two of you by being open and relaxed with him so as to get him to loosen up a bit more with you.
You remain seated on the bed, as he walks over to the window and begins to pull his pack of cigarettes out of his jacket pocket along with his lighter.
With a deft movement, he lights the cigarette, where the small flame briefly illuminates his features before a ball of smoke dissipates into the room.
He opens the window and all the commotion outside is heard more clearly, but not enough for both of you to feel annoyed with it, feeling the night air come in to envelop you.
And you continue to sit, trying not to watch him too much, though it's impossible, he is Aemond Targaryen after all.
Still you search for something to say as he stands in a casual pose by the window, smoking and watching the night sky.
"Are you all right?" you ask finally, breaking the silence, your tone soft and gentle, not wanting to seem intrusive.
He nods, not watching you, with the smoke from the cigarette wafting around his face.
"Yeah," he replies in a distant tone, but you notice how thoughts keep running through his mind, "I'm fine."
You omit to let out a long sigh as you gently bite the inside of your cheek and watch him silently for a moment, thinking of something else to say.
Even he doesn't feel your gaze on him, where you silently admire his straight profile, his set jaw, the high cheekbones, the line of his nose, his lips... all his completely beautiful features and so ethereal.
And yet, all those beautiful features have a weight of sadness and tension, where you can see how a tide of thoughts cross his mind that seemingly only you can notice.
You see his barely-there frown and the tension in his jaw, lost in thought, with the cigarette slowly burning away between his long fingers.
You are torn between remaining silent or trying to break the ice surrounding it. You know that your words must be carefully chosen, not pushing but showing your genuine concern.
So you think your words through very carefully and finally decide to take a chance, hoping that your sincerity might do something, anything.
"I've noticed you've been... distant lately," you say, in a soft voice, "More than usual."
He doesn't respond right away, but you notice a slight tension in his shoulders. He takes a deep drag from his cigarette before exhaling slowly, his gaze still fixed on some point beyond the window, as if he's searching for answers in the dark.
Finally, he shakes his head and again responds without looking at you.
"It's nothing, just..." he is quiet for a moment, "Nothing that really matters to anyone."
Your eyebrows furrow slightly and you feel compelled to speak without thinking too much.
"It matters to me," you say in a soft tone, your gaze fixed on him, trying to let him see the sincerity in your eyes.
He slowly turns to you, finally watching you, his expression suddenly alert. There is a mixture of curiosity and anticipation on his face.
"And why would that be?" he asks you, his tone serious and slightly defensive, his frown showing his confusion, clearly not believing your words, "You don't even know me, nor I you."
The words that have come out of you so spontaneously now leave you vulnerable, but you can't back down. You feel a slight blush creep up your cheeks, but you try to stand firm even in your words.
"We're part of the same group of friends," you reply softly, your gaze fixed on him, trying to keep your composure, "We don't talk much, it's true, but I still care about you. Just like I care about everyone else."
He doesn't say anything to you right away. From a distance, he just stands there, watching you. The dim light in the room outlines the lines of his face in soft shadows.
You try not to look away from him, despite how overly intimidated and nervous you feel. And then, as if he is evaluating your words, he looks away and you see a small but visible smile curving his lips, to again raise the cigarette towards them.
"Is that so?" he murmurs and then takes a drag.
You find the scene hypnotic. The way he smokes. A simple action making him look so sexy.
And realizing you're making progress here, when you hadn't even seen him smile the way he just did, you decide to continue to be honest.
"I'm here for you Aemond, I mean it," you murmur, without hesitation, feeling the warmth of your own words. "Either way."
You watch him stare out the window for a few moments, taking another drag on his cigarette and then, he turns fully towards you.
His eye watches you with intensity and you see how there is an indecipherable glint. He tilts his head slightly, watching as he slowly sweeps his gaze over you, igniting all your alerts in you.
Still, you hold his gaze, despite the way he seems to evaluate you and make you feel exposed. He searches for the truth in your every word, as if he's waiting for you to take it back, to hesitate and consider what you're telling him.
But you don't.
Then, with the cigarette slowly burning between his fingers, with a nonchalant movement, he stubs it out against a piece of furniture in the room. And then, he moves slowly and precisely, towards you.
One step. Another step. And another. Each one filling the space between you until the distance is minimal. Until you feel his proximity and your skin bristles, before he even touches you.
Enraptured, you slowly raise your gaze to him as he steps in front of you. His knees brush lightly against yours and his fragrance envelops you, a faint mixture of cigarettes and his cologne that smells too good and intoxicating.
Your heart begins to beat quite hard and fast in your chest, not understanding what is going on. But you don't want it to end.
And being like this, in this way, makes everything even more interesting. You continue to sit on the edge of the bed, while he stands in front of you, looking at your face more closely.
The silence stretches and you see the curve of his lips lift slightly as he sees no hesitation in you. And when he speaks, his voice is low, deep and soft, infused with something that sends a shiver down your spine.
"Either way?"
His words aren't just a question. They are a challenge. A provocation.
And you don't look away, as you watch him with your big eyes, not backing down. And then, you nod.
The blue of his eye seems to darken with your response, as if you've ignited something inside him. Then, he lifts a hand and with exasperating slowness, directs it to your face and his long fingers brush your cheek.
Holding your breath, you watch him curiously and attentively, as he tests the ground, your reaction. And then his caress becomes firmer. His fingers run along the line of your jaw, slowly ascending to tangle at the base of your hair.
His thumb slides to the corner of your lips, tracing the contour with a softness that contrasts with the intensity of his gaze, while you have to remind yourself how to breathe.
"Then say it," he murmurs, leaning in just barely.
Your throat feels dry. Your lips part, watching him completely mesmerized and unable to believe this is really happening. Your words get stuck, because in this moment, with Aemond so close, with his touch igniting every part of your body, you realize there's no turning back.
"Either way," you assure him in a soft, slightly trembling voice.
"And how far does either way go?"
He holds your gaze, that blue eye burning and as if he can see right through you, something dangerous and exciting.
His hand on your face is firm, but his thumb keeps tracing slow circles at the corner of your lips, almost in a distracted, shuddering caress. He is waiting, testing you.
"As far as you need," you murmur, without hesitation.
He tilts his head and suddenly, his free hand takes your arm, making you rise from the bed as his hand on your cheek is firmer, keeping you right where he wants you.
"So any way I need?" he murmurs, a barely raspy, enveloping whisper that seems to filter through your skin.
He leans in, until you feel his nose brush against yours. And you close your eyes for a moment, trying to contain the whirlwind of emotions he's nothing short of unleashing in you.
"Yes," you say in a whisper, trying to stand on your own two feet.
Suddenly his hand on your waist grips you firmly and tightly, holding you in his orbit with an ease that takes your breath away. There is no pressure, no urgency, just a silent possession that feels more dangerous than any words.
He leans closer to you, his face descending in a movement so slow it almost seems deliberate, as if he wants to lengthen the moment, as if he's enjoying the way your breath hitches, in how your lips barely part, in the way your pupils dilate as the space between you disappears.
His breath, warm with the faint trace of cigarette and mint, mingles with yours. Until his lips brush yours in a touch so ephemeral that it seems like an illusion.
A silent provocation. It's not an immediate kiss. No. He takes his time, brushing his mouth over yours torturously slow, as if giving you a chance to pull away, to stop him.
But you don't. Because you don't want to. Because you want him, so badly.
And when your body leans slightly into him, a sigh escapes your mouth before you can avoid it, needing him. And that seems to be all he needs, because then, you feel it.
His lips slide over yours with devastating precision, trapping you in a kiss that leaves no room to breathe. His hand on your cheek holds you by the back of your neck, while the hand on your waist pulls you closer to him.
He closes in a little more, tilting your face towards him as his other hand slowly slides down your waist, drawing you closer, eliminating any chink of space between your bodies.
The kiss intensifies as his tongue brushes against yours, soft, teasing, exploring with a patience and assurance that makes you shiver. Aemond does not rush. There is no desperation in his touch, just something darker, deeper, as if he wants to memorize your every reaction, every tremor of your body beneath his.
Then it's deeper and more demanding.
You have to cling to his shirt, to the folds of fabric between your fingers, because suddenly you're not sure you can stand without him.
And when he finally pulls away, just a little, just enough to look at you with that fiery blue eye, lips parted and breath hitching, you know nothing will ever be the same again.
"Tell me again," he murmurs against your lips, his forehead touching yours.
With your heart racing, you manage to hold his gaze and find the words to speak, when all you want to do is keep kissing him.
"I'm here for you, Aemond," you say, your tone soft, but confident, "Either way," you complete, without a hint of hesitation.
His gaze darkens. And then, he kisses you again.
And from that moment, that's when it all began. But only when you were alone.
There were no words about it, no questions, no explanations. The next day, Aemond behaved the same as always: serious, distant, impenetrable when you were surrounded by people.
There were no glances, no brushes, no hint that anything had happened the night before. But at some point in the night, he showed up. A short message.
A silent signal that gave way to the change in your relationship with him.
The first time you went to his apartment, there was no doubt or hesitation. He opened the door without a word and you walked in, feeling the warmth of his gaze following you closely. There were no words other than cordial ones and then there was no more preamble.
His way of touching you was firm, decisive, as if he had known you forever, as if he knew exactly what to do to make everything else disappear.
And in those moments, with his breath brushing against your skin and his hands roaming your body, you understood what this was.
It was just sex. But, surprisingly, there was something more.
Something that wasn't said out loud, but it was there, in the way his fingers lingered on your skin after it was all over. He wasn't asking you to stay, but he wasn't asking you to leave either. And somehow, that was enough.
That's how the dynamic between you began.
There were no explicit rules, but the boundaries were clear. The relationship was not based solely on desire, though.
When the two of you were alone, Aemond wasn't his usual self. He wasn't the cold, serious man everyone knew. With you, when the door closed and the world was outside, his expression changed. His barriers would crumble, if only for a moment.
There were nights when, after all, he would simply lie beside you, tangling his fingers in your hair in silence. He would tell you things he never told anyone, fragments of his mind that he rarely shared. And so did you with him.
It wasn't that he was affectionate, for Aemond is not that kind of person. But in the quiet of the night, when you were alone, he allowed himself to be something more than the impenetrable man everyone thought they knew.
In public, however, nothing changed.
He didn't ignore you, but he didn't treat you differently either. If you shared a room with others, he was the same old Aemond: observant, reserved, with an expression no one could read.
There were no signs of what went on when you were alone. It wasn't that he was ashamed of what you had, but he wasn't interested in letting the world know either.
And there were times when you wondered if this was enough for you. If you could go through with this, whatever it was, that existed only in the shadows. The doubt kept you up most of the night and distracted in your classes.
But then, there came the moments that made you forget those doubts.
When he had you against the wall or under his body, his mouth claiming yours with deep, electrifying movements, demanding and possessive.
There was tenderness in the small gestures, in the way he ran his fingers down your back after all, in the way he tucked a lock of your hair behind your ear before kissing you again.
But all that only existed when it was just the two of you.
A delicate balance between what was allowed and what was not. A secret kept within four walls, where Aemond allowed himself to be more than just the man everyone knew. Where you are one of the few people he allows to see him as he really is.
And that, for now, is enough for you.
“Gods, Aemond.”
The sensation of his wet tongue exploring your pussy takes over every part of your mind and body. Your fingers grip his hair as your hips begin to roll into his face, unable to contain yourself and unable to stop the moans that escape your lips.
You let your head fall back against his pillow, closing your eyes and furrowing your brows in pleasure as you feel his lips suck and lick your clit.
Your thighs rest against his shoulders, as his arms spread you even wider for him, letting him see all of you. He feasts, tasting his saliva and your juices, unable to get enough of you.
Your whole body writhes, having no escape from his grip, as your moans and the sound of his tongue working on you fill his room. When a suck on your clit especially makes you shudder, feeling the reach of your orgasm sooner than you expected.
“Oh my—fuck, I'm gonna come,” you gasp, warning quickly.
“Yeah?” he asks you, pulling slightly away from your pussy, “Are you close, baby?”
You can't speak, just nod.
Then you throw your head back hard, moaning as his tongue finds its way through all your wetness again and one of his fingers enters you, further stimulating the arrival of your orgasm.
“Oh, fuck! Yes, Aem—
He watches you from where he is, still eating you, delighting in your expression and the way you squirm.
You bring both of your hands up to hold your breasts tightly, biting your lips and moaning loudly, feeling the heated pleasure hit you with intensity. He keeps sucking you, prolonging your orgasm, while you moan and see stars behind your eyes.
The perfect scene to make his cock harder.
He gives you one last kiss on your clit as you calm down and he moves up your body, bringing one of his hands to one of your breasts, cupping it and kneading it firmly.
His face leans toward you and he kisses you, letting you taste your flavor as he has so many times before. You feel dizzy, exhausted and overheated. But you know none of this ends here.
So you open your arms, embracing him as he makes room between your legs, never stopping kissing you.
“So pretty. So good for me,” he whispers against your lips with desire.
Hot and heavy, Aemond presses his cock against you, pressing it deliciously against your clit. You furrow your brows and gasp, still feeling the weight of your earlier, intense orgasm.
But you want more, more of him.
“Please,” you moan, rolling your hips against him, ”I want you to fuck me.”
“Yeah? You want that?”
Everything about him is intoxicating, enthralling, dazzling and hypnotic. You don't think clearly. Much less in sex. So you just nod, needing more of him. Your pussy clenches around nothing and it frustrates you, so you grind your hips harder against his cock.
“Don't worry. I'm going to fuck you just right,” he tells you then leaves a soft kiss on your cheek.
Agitated, you watch as he removes his boxers and his hard cock slams against his lower abdomen. Big, pale and hot.
He reaches over to his nightstand drawer, grabbing a condom. He puts it on quickly and brings the tip to your folds, wetting it with your juices and slowly opening you for him.
The contact makes you shudder and you cling to his shoulders as he slowly begins to open you up. The sensation invades you almost instantly, intoxicating you, as he fills you to the hilt.
You watch him with your mouth open, as his eye bores into yours and he drops down for a moment to watch perfectly as the two of you join, hissing, staying still afterwards to give you time to adjust.
You've felt it many times before, it's not new, you can take it in completely. Yet it feels like the first time, every time.
And then, he begins his gentle back and forth, moving in and out of you slowly, at the same time burying his face in your neck, sighing as he feels your perfect pussy squeeze him.
“Oh fuck,” he gasps in your ear, sending shivers through your body, “Squeezing me so fucking tight. Feels so good. So deep in your pretty pussy.”
“Feels good. So good, Aemond.”
Then, he begins to penetrate you with steadier movements, deep and hard.
The air leaves your lungs, as you cling to his shoulders and hug him against you as you feel his warm breath against your neck each time he thrusts inside you again.
You whimper, feeling him keep up the steady rhythm, making you bite your lip at the delicious sensation that soothes the need you feel deep inside you.
“Oh Gods,” you moan, ”Oh yes.”
His onslaught is faster and more energetic, penetrating you harder.
“That's it, baby. Wrap your legs around my torso,” he commands you in a soft, but firm, deep voice, full of lust.
And you do, desperate to feel him deeper inside you. The sound of skin against skin along with moans and gasps are all you hear in the room.
“Yeah, just like that,” he croons in your ear, ”Good girl. Just for me.”
All he gets from you is that you squeeze his cock harder. And he speeds up his movements, as he steals your breath with each thrust.
Aemond grunts and leans in a little, raising one hand to grab the edge of the bed's backrest for support to hit your exact spot with more precision and you whimper, arching your back at the delicious sensation.
He watches your every expression pleased, digging his fingers even deeper into the wood and with his other hand your skin, enjoying your pretty sounds that you make only for him.
“Aemond,” you moan.
Resting your head on the pillow and moaning without caring about anything else, you collapse. You tremble beneath him, your eyes roll back in your head, and you explode with an intensity stronger than your previous orgasm.
Feeling the way you squeeze him, he speeds up his movements, his thrusts faster and harder, reaching his own orgasm. He grunts and buries his face in your neck, grabbing one of your breasts hard as he cums inside you.
He curses, as he drops his body on top of you, breathing hard and his pulse too fast.
Then, complete silence.
Neither of you say or do anything. You both try to regulate your breathing and calm down from the high. Then, he leaves a soft kiss on your cheek, with his hand holding your face to then begin a brief trail of kisses to your lips. He kisses you deeply and finally leaves a last kiss on your forehead.
It feels like heaven and everything about him completely consumes you. It drugs you and floods you in the way you don't want it to stop. And you deeply wish time would stop so you can enjoy the moment forever.
But then, he gets off of you and lies down next to you letting out a sigh. And suddenly, coldness. There is no more affection or the warmth he used to give you.
You cover yourself with the sheets and watch him almost out of the corner of your eye. You want to get close to him, to hug him and have him make you feel safe and well cared for after the act of intimacy, like before.
But before you even try anything, he reaches over and takes from his nightstand a cigarette, lighting it. He makes himself comfortable in his own way and takes drags while staring at the ceiling or a spot in the room.
You bite your lips and look away from him, having no idea what to say.
The smoke reaches your nostrils and you both stay like that, existing, saying and doing nothing for a few long minutes. Then you see the time and it's late.
It's dangerous for you to go home by yourself, even in an Uber. And by his behavior, you doubt that he will tell you that you can stay or that he will drive you home.
You don't want to be later so you let out a long breath and without looking at him, you sit up with the sheets on your chest and start looking for your clothes.
"Where are you going?"
His question surprises you and catches you off guard instantly, so you turn to look at him a little uncertainly as you tuck a lock of your hair behind your ear.
"It's late. I should be going."
He checks the time too and watches you with a frown.
"Don't you want to stay?"
"Hum... I don't know," you shrug, "You want me to?"
"Yeah," he says nonchalantly, "You've stayed many times before."
"Yeah, I know, but... I don't know. I thought you didn't want me to stay this time."
He holds his frown as you watch him exhale smoke from between his parted lips, making a confused gesture with his head.
"Why not?"
"I don't know. I just thought about it," you shake your head, averting your gaze from him.
You feel his gaze on you as you bend over and pull on your shirt so you don't sleep completely naked. And he doesn't even tell you to wear his, like he used to a time ago.
He used to tell you that he loved seeing how his shirts looked on you and now... nothing.
"I'll drive you home in the morning. Don't worry," he tells you in that again nonchalant and... distant tone.
"Yeah," you murmur, turning to lie down next to him.
He lasts a few more minutes smoking his cigarette staring at the ceiling and nothing else, while you silently watch the features of his handsome face and the movements he makes with his hand and cigarette.
Finally he stubs out and throws what little is left of it in the trash, then turns off the lamp and begins to settle in next to you. He leans towards you, puts an arm behind your head and pulls your body towards him to sleep together, as before.
You place your head between his chest and neck as he wraps both arms around you and rests his head on yours, releasing a long breath to finally fall asleep.
For a moment, the action and the way you both are comforts you. His closeness and the way he holds you, makes you feel safe, comfortable, warm and makes those butterflies flutter in your stomach.
But you notice the little differences.
His touch is different, his nonchalant and distant attitude is transmitted through his movements and this... it felt like a mechanical movement, a movement caused by habit and almost forced.
It's like he has to, not because he really wants to. There are no little kisses or little caresses before bedtime while he holds you. Nothing. He doesn't make you feel the way he used to.
But at least he holds you.
And you settle for that, still with sadness in your heart and with the feeling that something has changed and you don't know what it is but, it gives you a bad feeling.
At least he's still doing these little things that used to make you happy. But... again, it's not like before.
You prepare breakfast for Aemond and yourself.
You woke up earlier than usual just so you could prepare a decent breakfast for him so he wouldn't go to class on an empty stomach.
You know that his classes start earlier in the day compared to yours and you have been listening to him take a shower for a while and now he is probably finishing getting ready to leave.
A few minutes ago you received messages from Sara asking you where you will celebrate your birthday tomorrow. You just had to tell her a place and she and the guys will take care of the rest.
You feel visibly excited about it. Although Aemond hasn't talked to you about any of that but... you are hopeful.
At that moment he appears down the hallway, ready to go to class, heading quickly towards the living room where his backpack is, shooting you a brief glance.
"What are you doing?"
"I made breakfast," you tell him, making him coffee the way he likes it.
"I don't have time," he tells you hurriedly, not even looking at you.
That makes you stop and look at him confused.
You shouldn't either, in fact, they are little things that anyone would tell you are unimportant but... you notice them and it sets off another alarm in you.
"Aren't you going to have breakfast?" you ask him confused.
"No."
"But you always eat breakfast even if you're late."
"I can't now, Y/N. My first class is important," he tells you again with that coldness and almost... annoyance.
You watch him for a few seconds without saying anything. And then you watch all the breakfast ready in front of you as you bite the inside of your cheek, again feeling that bad feeling and discomfort running inside your body.
"Go get changed so I can drop you off at the dorm in passing," he tells you, "I don't have much time. We have to go now."
Surprisingly you don't want to.
Normally you would have accepted without even hesitating but now...you feel like you're annoying him and you don't want to do that with this too. Besides, he looks very rushed.
"Don't worry. I'll take the bus," you say without emotion, leaving everything on the table and heading towards his room to change.
"As you wish," he says behind you, unconcerned.
A sharp pain settles in your chest and you try to control yourself, not wanting to overthink things, even though you are already doing so.
With the sadness inside you, taking your time, you change and improve your appearance just a little. Normally you would have taken a shower here too but now you don't want to do any of that. You just want to go home.
You're barely finishing putting on your pants when you see him appear under the door frame with his backpack on his shoulder.
"Hey," he says to you in a surprisingly soft tone compared to a few seconds ago, "What are you doing tomorrow afternoon?"
"Huh?" you look at him confused and attentive.
"Do you have plans tomorrow afternoon?"
You think about it for a moment, not expecting his question.
"Hum... no, not yet. In the night it's just the hanging out with the guys."
"Yeah, I know. But I thought we could do something the two of us before we go meet them."
And then, again that little hope appears and every ugly feeling from before is replaced.
My birthday.
You think instantly, feeling hopeful and excited. Surely he has a surprise for you and everything you were thinking before about his attitude and behavior, surely it's just because he has a lot to do regarding his classes and it really has nothing to do with you.
"Like what?"
He puts on a small half smile.
"Just be ready at six. I'll call you and pick you up."
"Oh, okay. Yeah, sure," you nod, smiling softly.
"Okay," he murmurs, "I'll see you later, then."
"Yeah. Drive safe."
He leaves and eventually so do you, it being a common routine where you know how to secure the door to his apartment when you're the last to leave.
Despite attending to your classes and work, you couldn't help but think of a thousand ways and things to do where Aemond will probably surprise you.
You didn't talk to him for the rest of the day. You texted him once you got to your residence and your day was almost over but he didn't respond.
Then you took a shower, finished some chores and watched a new episode of the show you are currently watching. Every once in a while you couldn't help but check your phone to see if you got a message from him or if he called you, but nothing.
Until eventually you fell asleep.
And the next morning, when you wake up, it's your birthday.
You get lots of messages and congratulations from your friends. Sara tags you on many Instagram stories wishing you a happy birthday. Other of your classmates also congratulate you and you spend part of the morning smiling and replying messages.
You FaceTime with your parents and family members you haven't seen in months. Even though the vacations are fast approaching, you've already made plans with Aemond to stay with him.
You receive more congratulations from cousins, aunts and uncles, you also talk to your grandparents and answer more messages from your friends.
Until you look for a specific person, there is nothing. Aemond hasn't texted or called you. The message you sent him yesterday he hasn't even seen it and that seems weird to you.
But the day is just starting so there is still plenty of time.
You also remember that he has something prepared for you this afternoon, so you look forward to whatever it will be. You know he will text or call you later.
You get ready and choose an outfit that makes it clear that this is your special day. You do waves in your hair and make your makeup a little more bold. Finally you apply lip gloss and head to campus.
You meet your classmates, they give you their best wishes, your professors also congratulate you on your birthday and your day is potentially going great.
Still, the hours pass and Aemond still hasn't contacted you.
That seems weird to you. But it's still early. So you follow the corresponding schedule of your classes and keep your mind busy for a couple more hours.
You finally get an hour's break and take a seat at one of the tables outside in one of the many gardens on campus. You pick up your phone and frown when you see that Aemond still hasn't texted you.
Confused, and just to put your mind at ease, you decide to text him yourself, asking if he's okay. But the messages don't reach him, confusing you and drawing your attention even more.
Either he has no signal wherever he is or his phone is turned off, which is very weird.
You tell yourself that surely he must be busy and will call you soon. You mean... he has to, right? It's your birthday and he has a plan for the two of you in a few more hours.
At that moment, you run into Jason, Cregan and Sara, who lock you in a tight group hug, congratulating you on your birthday and making a bit of a fuss.
"How's the birthday girl doing?" Jason asks you, smiling.
"Great," you assure him.
"Did you get any presents?" asks Sara.
"Mmm… yes, from some classmates," you reply with a small soft smile, "My mom also send a video with my little brothers. We promised to celebrate when I see them on vacation," you pause for a moment, hesitating if you should ask what's really on your mind.
But finally, you decide to do it in the most casual way possible.
"Oh and... have either of you seen Aemond?"
"I haven't," says Sara.
"I called him but sent me straight to mailbox," says Cregan.
"I think I saw him heading toward that building," Jason points out, "About two hours ago."
So he did come to class.
That's what your mind immediately thinks. But you don't understand what's going on with his phone.
"Yet he said he's going to the pub later," Cregan says.
"Yeah, that's where the whole group will finally be together," agrees Sara cheerfully.
Well, at least you know he's okay. And if he doesn't text or call you, you're sure he'll pick you up at your dorm like he said he would.
You linger for a few more moments chatting with the guys until eventually everyone heads off to their next class, hours pass and you finally finish your classes.
You quickly head to your residence to touch up your makeup and put on another outfit. You have exactly half an hour until six o'clock and Aemond arrives.
You put on your playlist of the moment and undecidedly start looking at all the outfits that are for the whole occasion. You don't know where Aemond will take you so you want to be prepared in case of anything.
You also make sure of your lingerie.
You recently bought a couple of new outfits and now seems like the time to break in a new one.
With Aemond it's almost a law that you'll both find the time wherever it is to obviously do... that. He's insatiable and goes crazy over every new outfit you put on and you really want to surprise him.
You finally finish getting ready and look at the time on your phone, it's exactly six o'clock. And excited, you wait for him.
Usually Aemond is very punctual. The time he says he will arrive, he arrives exactly at that time. But ten long, eternal minutes go by and he doesn't show up. And that really seems very weird to you.
Then fifteen, twenty minutes and he still doesn't show up.
If something got in his way, he would usually let you know. But you don't get a text or a call from him. So you decide to call him yourself.
Finally the call comes in and you wait for him to answer, relieved that his phone has a signal or is on, whatever happened. But he doesn't answer.
You call again, nothing. And again, nothing. Bewildered, you text him, telling him you're waiting for him. But nothing, he doesn't answer, doesn't tell you anything, doesn't even read them.
You start anxiously moving your foot up and down and call him a couple more times, but he doesn't answer. And that's what happens for over an hour, waiting for him to call you or say something, anything, but nothing.
Feelings of disappointment, sadness and anger wash over you. You plop down on your bed and continue to stare at your phone waiting for something, anything, with a bitter look on your face. But, again and as lately, nothing.
He hasn't even said happy birthday. He hasn't said anything at all. And the plan for both of you, completely forgotten.
When then, a terrible realization begins to dawn on you.
He maybe...?
No.
You immediately say to yourself, in denial.
He hasn't forgotten your birthday. He wouldn't do that. He wouldn't do that to you. He couldn't.
Frustrated, you let out a long breath as the thought begins to creep deeper and deeper into your mind. Not leaving you alone and wanting to convince you that's exactly what happened. Or else he would have responded to your message from this morning and you both would be together right now.
But you tell yourself that maybe something happened. Something he didn't plan for. Maybe something important and he can't communicate it now, but eventually he will.
You're sure he wouldn't do something like this to you, so it must be something unexpected and important.
You chase away all the negative things you're thinking and think about Cregan saying he's going to the pub anyway. You know that right there he'll give you an explanation and make it up to you, you're pretty sure.
So you wait for the time you agreed to show up at the pub with Sara, all the time still hoping to hear something from Aemond, anything. But nothing.
Finally he arrives.
His arrival completely steals your attention. You watch as he enters the pub with a completely disinterested and... resigned look on his face. As if he doesn't really want to be here.
This gets your attention even more but in front of the others, you hide it and don't immediately approach him, as if you haven't been waiting for him all this time.
Jason and Cregan literally rush towards him, while you sit there talking to Sara and your other classmates continue to talk and drink.
Sara is talking but you're not really listening to her, as out of the corner of your eye you watch him, talking to the guys with a tense posture and a somewhat irritated look on his face.
And after a few minutes, the guys practically drag him over to the table where you are, cheering him on.
The three of them take a seat, he specifically in front of you and all he does is give you and Sara a slight nod of his head in greeting and... that's it.
And that's the point where you finally don't understand anything.
He hasn't even said happy birthday to you. Nor does he give you the signal to both speak privately. He doesn't even seem to have your numerous missed calls and messages you left him in mind.
What's wrong with him?
He's looking all around, until the moment comes when, of course, he takes his lighter and his cigarette and doesn't even glance at you. He doesn't join in the conversation either. He doesn't really do anything.
And you start looking for the perfect opportunity to approach him and ask him to explain himself.
And you think it finally comes when he gets up and says he's going to get a drink, heading with dispassionate movements towards the bar.
But the bar is in plain sight and your drink is still full. So you start taking quick sips to finish it without drawing attention to yourself. Still, you watch him and are more confused when you see him with his back to you typing on his phone, waiting for his drink.
There's no way he hasn't noticed the numerous messages you've left him.
You don't understand why he hasn't spoken to you all day and why he seems to be ignoring you. You just don't understand anything.
And just as you're about to get up to go with him, he returns with drink in hand and a seriousness in his eyes that you haven't seen for a long time. So you last a long time at the table, talking to the guys, waiting for the opportunity that keeps not coming as time goes by.
You also talk to your classmates at the other table and from time to time you watch him, if not all the time, wanting him to look back at you but nothing.
He seems distracted, serious and irritated. Everything about him you can see and notice.
When suddenly he stands up without a word and you watch intently as he heads for the restroom.
The perfect opportunity.
From the tables where everyone is sitting, they can't see the small hallway leading to the restrooms. So you let a few small seconds pass, act all normal and casual, and finally get up and tell Sara that you will go to the restroom and will be back in a moment.
You do everything normal, although you don't really do anything inside the restroom, except stand at the entrance and listen attentively for the moment when the men's restrooms door opens so you can go out and bump into him.
And that's what you do the moment you hear the door open, hoping it's him and not someone else.
And to your good fortune, it's him. And he watches you the instant your figure appears in front of him, both of you stopping your steps.
"Hey," you say a little uncertainly, looking at him slightly confused and with nervousness creeping over you.
And he speaks to you with the most disinterested and cold tone he has ever addressed you with. His gaze cold and distant.
"Hey."
This confuses you even more and you decide to get to the point directly, needing to know what's wrong with him.
"Are you okay?"
He frowns, as if your question is absurd.
"Yeah, why?"
"Well... I haven't heard from you all day. I called you many times and left you several messages, but you didn't get back to me."
Aemond raises an eyebrow, as if he doesn't understand what you're saying and starts pulling his phone out of his pocket, seemingly unconcerned.
"You did?"
"Yes," you say, feeling more lost than ever, "I wait for you."
"For what?"
You stare at him incredulously and with all the bewilderment in your gaze, parting your lips.
"For what?" you repeat, not understanding, "Yesterday you said you'd pick me up at six. You didn't tell me where we were going and so I kept calling and texting you but you never answered. You didn't even let me know you weren't coming," you say looking at him confused, "Something happened or... you forgot?"
The change in his gaze is subtle, but you can see it. Something inside him softens, watching you silently, with realization. And upon seeing your gaze, he averts his gaze full of resignation as he takes a deep breath and runs a hand over his face.
"Fuck," he mutters.
And you watch him the whole time, clearly waiting for an explanation.
"Sorry," he finally says, watching you and his voice deepens, "I forgot. I was busy."
You blink, watching him sadly and uncomprehendingly, frowning at him.
"You forgot?" you repeat in a mumble, shaking your head and shrugging.
"It wasn't intentional," he tells you in a more serious tone, "I was busy and I'm really sorry. I'll make it up to you later, okay?"
But something in his words doesn't convince you, and you continue to stare at him with that look that begs for deeper answers.
"But why would you forget? Where were you?"
"I already told you I was busy."
"Yes but you were the one who told me that—
"I know," he cuts you off sharply, "And I forgot because, for the fourth time, I was busy. Now stop making a big deal out of it and stop whining like a little girl."
Pain flashes across your face as you take a step back, bewildered and surprised.
He has never spoken to you this way before. Nor has he ever behaved with you the way he is behaving now. You just don't understand. But then... again that thought comes to your mind as you watch him with your parted lips.
The realization comes and hits you to make you see the reality. And you watch it sadder and more confused than before.
"You don't even know what today is? Did you forget too?" you ask him with your voice cracking in disappointment and disbelief, "I-I... I just... I just wanted to know if you were okay and where you were. And I don't think it's fair that—
"Look," he says, interrupting you with a coldness and a look full of annoyance, "Just because we slept together doesn't mean you're my girlfriend Y/N, because you're not. Let's make it fucking clear to you once and for all and stop thinking you have the right to demand explanations from me that I don't have to give you. You're just a convenient fuck and that's all, do you understand?"
His words fall like a weight on your chest and everything around you seems to stop. Your breath catches and your throat closes as you stand there, not knowing what to do and unable to believe what you just heard.
You can't believe he, he, said that.
Not the Aemond who looked at you with that intensity that seemed to promise more, who always found a way to make you feel special, even if it was in the privacy of bed or in the shadows of your moments together.
But here he is, looking at you coldly and honestly, also with some annoyance, as if you were just another problem he doesn't need to solve, but to get rid of. And really meaning every word he says.
You don't say anything. You just can't. The lump in your throat makes it impossible for you to speak and tears burn in your eyes, threatening to fall.
You try to stand firm, but every second that passes is a struggle not to break down in front of him. When then, you hear Sara's voice.
"There you are!"
She exclaims, approaching with a huge smile.
"What are you doing? We're waiting for you. It's time to sing happy birthday."
You don't see it but the confusion in Aemond's eye appears when Sara mentions the word birthday.
And you nod, biting the inside of your cheek, instantly pretending that everything is perfectly fine and you weren't heartbroken just a few seconds ago.
You swallow hard, controlling yourself.
"Yeah, yeah. Let's go."
She takes your arm and leads you along with her towards the table with the candle-decorated cake that all your friends together have bought for you.
Sara also makes sure to place your gifts around for pictures while you take a seat in the middle in full view of everyone and continue to hold your ground.
Aemond eventually approaches the table as well, you feel his closeness without even looking him, at the same time as everyone starts singing for you.
The room is filled with laughter and voices, with the hubbub of your friends singing a rousing and somewhat off-key version of 'happy birthday'. Sara is at your side, smiling radiantly, as the others raise their glasses, animated and happy.
And you... you smile too.
A wide, almost perfect smile that seems to fit the scene. But inside, you feel how every second that passes is like a knife pressing against your heart. An uncomfortable knot forms in your chest as you struggle to keep your composure.
Don't cry. Don't cry now.
You repeat yourself over and over, forcing yourself to keep up the facade. You know your friends are here for you, that they really want to see you happy, but all you can think about are Aemond's words and how he reduced you to something insignificant.
Your hands are tense, clenching the edges of the table as if that will keep you on your feet.
Your jaw aches from pretending so much, from holding back the tears that burn in your eyes. But, fortunately, you're doing a good job and no one notices.
However, you don't know it either but Aemond does.
He has come close enough to see your face. And although at first glance you look radiant, he knows you too well and something in your smile, in your eyes, tells him the truth and that smile is not real.
You don't see it, but you feel his gaze on you, so intense. As he purses his lips and continues to watch the scene, remorse hitting him with a force he didn't expect.
The last chords of the song echo as everyone applauds, cheering and encouraging you to blow out the candles. You take a breath, blinking rapidly to clear any sign of your emotions.
"Go on, make a wish, birthday girl," Sara tells you excitedly.
You lean into the cake, closing your eyes.
Your mind, treacherously, can't help but return to Aemond's words, again feeling the urge to cry. And yet, you make an effort to push those thoughts to the back of your mind, at least for now.
And finally, you blow out the candles.
Applause fills the space again, and you smile as everyone begins to surround you, offering hugs and warm words. When your gaze inevitably meets his.
He's still there, standing a little apart, watching you with a mixture of guilt and something else you can't quite decipher. He doesn't even try to come closer and you're grateful for that, because it's the smartest thing he can do now.
You look away from him and continue to thank them, doing the best thing you know how to do: pretend.
You laugh lightly at a comment from Sara, accept another hug, and even allow someone to smear a bit of frosting from the cake on your nose.
It all seems so normal, so perfect, but you know it's not.
Aemond is still there, motionless, watching you. And even though you try to ignore him, you can feel his gaze burning into you. He knows he has crossed a boundary tonight. He knows he's hurt you and you're like this because of him.
"Happy birthday, Y/N."
One of your classmates says to you as he hugs you. Then someone else hugs you and says the same thing, then another person and another.
But the voice you most longed to hear saying those words to you is absent and the emptiness it leaves weighs heavier than you'd like to admit.
But one thing is guaranteed and that is that you're fucking done.
After your birthday celebration, you went home earlier than you normally would have stayed to celebrate. But you just couldn't pretend anymore.
Aemond is the one who always takes people who live near him with him in his car. But this time it was Sara who did you the favor after telling her that you appreciated everyone's great gesture for celebrating your day but you weren't feeling well.
You received a couple of texts from him during the ride. Messages you decided not to read or you would end up crying with Sara in her car. So you stood your ground and made a promise to yourself that you wouldn't cry for him once you got to your dorm.
Obviously, you failed.
As soon as you finished taking off your clothes to put on your pajamas and started removing your makeup, inevitably the first tears started to fall. And then, you were a complete mess.
You weren't helped by the fact that his texts kept coming. And you had an idea what they were saying, so the very pain and bitterness deep inside you made you strong enough to not read anything, turn off your phone and go to bed to sleep.
But clearly nothing ended there.
You expected that he would later try to talk to you, no matter what.
So you did what you had never done before when it was about him and what he sometimes did when it was about you; you sent him straight to voicemail and didn't respond to any of his texts for days.
Y/N, please.
I didn't fucking mean it.
I'm sorry.
Can I talk to you?
Call me as soon as you can.
I know you're mad at me but I needed to talk to you, please.
That and more similar texts is what you've been getting these past few days. Days in which you have fortunately managed to avoid him on campus. And not just him, your other friends too or else he'll intercept you with them and you won't have a subtle escape.
And you don't want that.
You don't want to be weak enough in front of him to listen to his justifications and forgive him so easily. What he did to you, what he said to you… is not worthy of forgiveness.
You never realized before how insignificant you are to him and how he truly sees you. You are not even a little bit special than you considered him to you.
But that what happened, it broke your heart but it has also opened your eyes. You know you won't be able to hide forever. You also know that eventually meeting Aemond either alone or with people would be inevitable.
Besides, your friends were already starting to notice it weird that they didn't see you around, so you meet up with them in the usual campus gardens and act completely normal.
When Aemond also joins shortly after.
Everyone greets him as normal when he arrives and he greets them back with his usual nonchalant and serious attitude. However, you don't greet him. You don't even look at him.
You take the opportunity to do one of your homework right there, participating in the conversation from time to time but without being involved, just accompanying them and nothing more.
He takes a seat in front of you, where you instantly feel his piercing, burning gaze. You feel him silently begging you to look at him, to give him a chance to talk, to not ignore him anymore. But that's what you do, you ignore him.
“And how are your vacation plans going?” asks Cregan.
Inevitably, you tense up at the question. And the memories come back.
“Come with me.”
“Where to?”
“To Dragonstone.”
You press your lips together and more purposefully pretend to be completely immersed in your homework, when the truth is you hear the entire conversation.
“Where are you going?” he asks Jason.
“Sunspear, with my whole family.”
“And you?”
“I'm going home, Winterfell,” Sara replies.
“Winterfell?” repeats Cregan confused, “ You didn't say you were going to the beach?”
“Nope. I'll relax in the cabins with hot tubs,” she says with a smug grin, “How about you?”
“I'll go to the beach, definitely. I'm thinking Runestone.”
They go on to talk about their plans, places and so on. When they ask Aemond and you particularly pay more attention to that.
“You haven't changed your plans? You're going to Dragonstone?”
And his quiet, soft, nonchalant voice is not long in coming.
“Yes.”
And you continue to pretend. Pretending that you're not listening, that it's not a big deal, and that you secretly didn't have the same plan to go with him. And you're so immersed in it, you didn't think about the fact that eventually you'd also be asked the same question.
“What about you, Y/N? You said you had plans too.”
Shit.
You try to look like the question hasn't caught you off guard. And you quickly compose yourself. You raise your gaze to them, all but him, and speak with a nonchalant attitude and tone.
“Actually… no,” you place a soft smile, ”I'm going to stay here.”
“Oh really?”
“And why is that?”
Everyone looks at you in surprise and bewilderment. But, specifically, a burning, piercing eye watches you with more intensity than before and with a annoyance you can feel through your skin. Betrayal and pain, even. And honestly, it bothers you, too.
What was he expecting after what happened?
You try not to let it affect you, pretend he's not even here. And you deliberately ignore him.
“Maybe I'll visit my mom for a week or two,” you explain calmly, “But I'll stay most of the time here. And that's okay. It's no big deal.”
The guys give you their opinion and invite you to spend the vacations with them, somehow not wanting to leave you behind. But you turn them down politely, thanking them for their concern and saying that what you want is some time to yourself. And they understand.
And then, Aegon appears.
His entrance is, as always, loud and carefree. He wears a wide grin and a mocking twinkle in his eye as he greets everyone.
“Ah, look at this boring group alone,” he says, plopping his body down next to you on the grass.
Everyone waves at him, even you.
“What are you guys talking about?”
“The vacations.”
“Oh yeah, I can't wait. I need a break from all this,” he says as he lets out an exaggerated sigh and everyone in the group watches him with raised eyebrows.
“You? A break?” Sara asks him.
“Sure,” he shrugs, ”I'm a student too.”
“You've been drinking and going to parties every day,” Jason tells him amused, “What break are you talking about exactly?”
Everyone in the group laughs, even you, except him.
Aegon tries to justify himself, but even he knows he's a mess. When suddenly, his gaze fixes on you, raising an eyebrow and placing a smirk as if something has suddenly crossed his mind.
“Hey, Y/N,” he nudges you lightly with his shoulder, ”it was your birthday, right?”
You bite the inside of your cheek and nod with a small smile, trying to keep your composure.
“Why didn't you invite me?” he asks, feigning indignation.
Cregan scoffs.
“I invited you, you idiot.”
“Oh, right, right,” Aegon replies with a carefree laugh, ”I'm sorry I didn't go. I had another little party. Aemond was there too, wasn't he, little brother?”
Aemond's silence is immediate and deafening. He says nothing, and that makes the atmosphere suddenly heavy, for you.
And something inside you twists. And you look down at your notebook, trying to control your emotions and everything you're thinking. But you can't.
A party. He was at a party, on your birthday.
“And how was that party?” asks Cregan.
“Oh, fun, as always,” Aegon replies with a light tone. “They were our childhood friends, the Baratheons, the Tyrells, the Martells, and the Lannisters.”
Your heart stops for an instant.
Lannister.
That last name weighs on your mind like a rock.
“Yeah, it was really fun,” Aegon continues with a smile, “Even Aemond had a good time.”
The sound of his scandalous laughter fills the air, but is suddenly interrupted by Aemond's cold, cutting voice.
“Shut the fuck up.”
The elder only shrugs with a smirk and raises both hands in surrender.
“Oh, fucking spare me. You know how it is with him,” he says while at the same time starting to get up, ”First he's fine and then suddenly he turns into fucking Maleficent, like at that party.”
He waves a lazy goodbye as the guys wave goodbye to him. And you get caught up in his words.
Even Aemond had a good time.
Now you understand. He forgot your birthday because he was with them, with Cerelle.
A pang of pain runs through your chest at the thought of what that implies, of what probably happened between the two of them.
And whatever it was, it didn't end well, because afterwards he went to the pub and he was so distant, so quiet, so cold and so upset that that's why he said those ugly words to you and treated you the way he treated you.
Otherwise, he would have stayed with her and you wouldn't have seen him on your birthday.
Still, the betrayal in your chest is palpable and growing bigger. He still showed up, as if nothing had happened, as if he hadn't forgotten you on your fucking birthday.
You press your lips together, trying to hold back the tears. You won't give him the pleasure of seeing you break. Not now, not here. Least of all when you feel his gaze on you, his gaze intent, fixed and more insistently on you now that you know.
With a new bitterness settling in your chest, you refuse to give him what he seeks. You keep your eyes anywhere but on him, resisting the storm of emotions that threatens to overflow inside you.
A few long minutes pass with the guys making any topic of conversation and that stare starts to bother you more and more, so you decide you've had enough and start putting away all your books and notebooks.
“I have to go now. I can't be late for my next class,” you let them know as you get up with all your stuff, ”I'll see you guys later, okay?”
“Okay.”
“Sure.”
“See ya.”
You settle your backpack on your shoulder and with your phone in hand, you start walking away from them towards your corresponding building.
And as you walk away, a notification comes to your phone, followed by another. You stare at the screen and your breath catches for a moment, reading the texts, from him.
Are you fucking serious?
How long are you going to keep this shit up?
You scoff, shaking your head slightly. You don't even open the chat to let him know you've read it. And in fact, with a bitter look on your face and a new hurt feeling, you block him.
The first week of vacation, you went to visit your Mom in Highgarden.
It wasn't a difficult decision because you knew a few days away from Kings Landing would do you good. And being with your Mom and younger brothers you knew it would be just enough to keep you busy and spend time with all of them.
Sara sent you pictures and videos of her time in the mountains of Winterfell, enjoying big cozy cabins and fancy hot tubs.
For a moment you regretted turning down her invitation, but as you laughed and played with your brothers, you were happy to be with them after so many months without seeing them.
You also sent him pictures of your home, the lake in the garden, flowers and the big woods, as well as selfies of you and your brothers. Through the group chat, Cregan and Jason also sent pictures of their vacations, both of them at the beach and tanning.
One thing you noticed, inevitably, was the absence of Aemond.
He usually doesn't send messages or pictures of what he's doing. But you assumed he would when he was in Dragonstone, maybe even a picture or two. But nothing. Complete silence. Just like you.
You blocked him from social media too. He has no way of knowing what you're doing and where, just as you have no way of knowing about him. And it was a kind of relief you hadn't experienced about him before. It was good to breathe and not be on the lookout to recognize red hair near him.
And the more it made you realize how much better off you are without getting involved with him.
In fact, you stayed home for more than two weeks. You couldn't help it after your brothers asked you to stay with them longer. Until you finally let Sara know you were going back to Kings Landing the next day.
It wasn't a hard goodbye, but your Mom and brothers were sad. You promised to come back, like you do every year on the next vacation. And finally you get on that plane.
It's not a long trip, thankfully. And when you land, surprisingly it's raining. The weather is cloudy, cold and perfect for welcoming you in to watch movies curled up in your bed.
So you order an Uber and soon you're on your way to your residence, letting Sara know of your movements at all times, just as she keeps bragging to you about her days in those comfy cabins.
As you arrive, the rain is still pouring down and you run towards the doors with your suitcase in one hand and the other protecting your head, even though you are already partially wet.
You enter the building, shaking off the water, and climb to the second floor. With your keys already in hand, you start thinking about what you're going to have for dinner and what movie will be the first of your marathon.
But then, you notice something.
Or rather, someone.
In front of your door, sitting on the floor with his head slightly tilted down, there is someone. Surprise forces you to slow your steps and your breathing quickens slightly as you recognize him, even before he looks up.
Aemond.
He turns his head towards you and his one visible eye meets yours. His expression is a strange mix between seriousness and something else… something softer, more vulnerable.
His lips are pressed together and the raindrops that surely reached him glisten on the ends of his hair. For a moment, you stand frozen in the hallway, not knowing what to say or do, with the sound of the rain out there filling the silence between the two of you.
You don't know exactly how long it takes, that you swallow hard and finally speak, taking a couple of cautious steps towards him.
“Aemond?”
He doesn't say anything. He makes what appears to be a defeated gesture and rises from the ground, letting you see his profile straight ahead. He has the same look as before, with his hoddie's cap pulled up over his hair and he leans against the hallway wall behind him, looking at you and nothing else.
You shake your head, not understanding.
“What are you doing here?”
You ask him in surprise and confusion. And inevitably, seeing his state, you shouldn't but begin to worry about him. Has something bad happened to him?
“You didn't go to Dragonstone?” you ask him later as you remember, feeling more confused than before.
What is he doing here instead of enjoying his vacation at his family's huge, luxurious beachside mansion?
And he finally speaks in his low, soft tone.
“No.”
You frown, only with his answer creating more questions in your mind.
“And what are you doing here? How did you know I was coming back today?”
“I asked Sara.”
You part your lips, confused.
“Why would she tell you that?”
“You blocked me from everywhere, Y/N,” he tells you in a low, obvious tone, as if he had no choice.
Confusion and anger slowly begins to creep up on you. But you know you can't be upset with Sara, not with her. None of the boys know what you had with Aemond, they didn't even suspect it then and they certainly won't now.
Surely she saw it as a casual question, something insignificant, as if he had asked her about anyone else. So you can't be bothered. However, you begin to feel the awkwardness, as well as the slight sense of betrayal in your chest. And the bitterness.
“You haven't told me what you're doing here.”
“I need to talk to you,” he says, taking a step toward you.
“About what?” you ask him instantly, confused and with a defensive tone, clearly annoyed.
Everything you have done regarding him, blocking him, not speaking to him anymore and walking away, is more than enough to make him understand that you no longer want to have anything to do with him.
And you know he understands that, so why is his need to keep doing this? Asking for you and looking for you?
You are sick of this situation.
And Aemond, noticing this, your look, which you've never given him before, before your birthday, is not something he's used to. Neither is your tone of voice and the distance you keep from him, when before you always wanted to be near him, almost all the time.
He feels more guilty and like an idiot than ever.
He lowers his gaze, trying to find a way not to keep fucking this up, to be able to talk to you, to let him into your life again. Then, just like he used to be with you when it was just the two of you, he drops his strong walls and for the first time, he comes across in the most honest and sincere way to you.
“I miss you.”
Your body immediately tenses as you hear those two words come out of his mouth. His voice, lower and laden with a sincerity you didn't expect, cuts your breath for a moment.
Your first impulse is to want to laugh, not out of amusement, but as a bitter, incredulous reaction.
And without saying anything, you watch him seriously, waiting for him to say something else, something that would make sense of his presence here, in the rain, in front of your door. But he doesn't.
He just watches you, his shoulders slightly down, and that vulnerability that he rarely lets show in him.
And seeing that you don't react, that you're still watching him even in that way, in that way he's not used to, when before it was a tender and loving look, now there's none of that… he hates it.
So he hurries to speak again, to explain himself, to make you understand.
“I know I fucked up. I didn't mean to tell you all that on your birthday. You didn't deserve it and I'm sorry. I was an idiot,” he says, ”But I miss you and that's why I'm here.”
You shake your head slightly, watching him earnestly and attentively, while at the same time folding your arms, in an attempt to protect yourself from the wave of emotions that threatens to attack you.
He looks at you pleadingly and you look at him serious, disinterested, with the distance marked and the bitterness still inside you.
“That's it?”
His face contracts slightly in frustration.
“Y/N—
“If that's all, you can go,” you interrupt him, quickly pushing past him with your suitcase in hand and trying to get into your dorm room as fast as you can to leave him behind.
But you knew you wouldn't make it.
His hand immediately takes you gently but firmly by your arm, stopping you and turning you back to him so he can see your face and speak to you.
“No, that's not all,” he tells you instantly, “I-I… I want things to go back to the way they used to be.”
“And how were things between the two of us before exactly?” you inquire, taking a decisive step toward him, “You want to go back to the whole ‘no strings attached’ thing? To seeing each other in secret and me still just being your convenient fuck and nothing else? That's what you want?”
Your tone is a poison dart, and you see him recoil, as if your every word burns him. His jaw tenses, but he doesn't say anything right away.
“Say it, “you challenge him, taking a step closer, your eyes boring into his, ”Tell me it wasn't just that. Tell me it wasn't just… that I wasn't just—
Your voice cracks, and you hate that it does. Because even though you're upset, even though you want to stay strong, it's too much. He still affects you even more intensely than he did before.
He looks at you, his lips parted, as the rain continues to fall outside.
“That's what I thought,” you whisper at last, releasing yourself from his grip.
You hold the keys more firmly in your hand, avoiding shaking, to insert it into the lock of your door. But he, not wanting it to end like this, stops you.
“You never said anything. You seemed fine with all of it. Now why the sudden change?”
You close your eyes tightly, no longer able to hold back the tears in your eyes. The bitterness, the sadness, the pain, the betrayal, everything stirs inside you. It hurts you and there seems to be no end to it, because again you turn to face him.
And seeing the tears threatening to run down your cheeks, something in his gaze softens, not expecting to see you like this.
“Are you fucking serious?” you say to him almost in a whisper in a shaky, bitter voice, “After what you did, what you said, how do you expect me to be okay to keep being with you?”
He lets out a long breath.
“Y/N… you weren't just that. You never were. And I… I was upset that day. And I shouldn't have taken it out on you, I know that. But I promise you weren't just that to me.”
You shake your head, not believing his words for a second. Not anymore.
“The thing here is, your words don't mean anything to me anymore.”
He takes a step toward you.
“I didn't mean to… I didn't think that—
“That's the problem, Aemond, you never think of anyone but yourself,” you interrupt him in a harsh, annoyed voice, ”Everything is always about what you want, what's convenient for you.”
He shakes his head.
“That's not true—
“Of course it is,” you take a shaky breath and your words coming out softer, but no less sharp, “ And even now, after all, you don't understand how much you meant to me. Because I didn't matter to you, ever.”
No matter how many times he tells you that it was not so, you will not believe him, because he did not necessarily prove to you before something that can prove his words. There are no facts, there is nothing.
And that same bitterness, makes you finally be brave, speak up, get it off your chest. So you don't let him talk so you can get it over with once and for all.
“You know what happened?” you ask, ”I got feelings. That's what happened.”
And there it is. You've said it.
Those words you never said long ago so as not to scare him away from you, how you knew it would happen, without putting you and what you felt first. But still, without having said it before, you ended up with a broken heart.
The weight of your words falls between the two of you like an invisible wall, so palpable you can almost touch it. Aemond seems to freeze, his eyes anchored on yours.
“That's why things can't go back to the way they were, because, of course, that's not what you want. What you want is an idiot who is at your beck and call whenever and however you want her to be.”
Your words hit him unexpectedly.
And the change in his expression is immediate. All the vulnerability he had shown disappears from his face.
And once again you are in front of the Aemond everyone knows; the cold, distant, serious and inexpressive Aemond. His gaze, once pleading and remorseful, becomes hard and distant.
His jaw visibly tenses and you notice how his shoulders square, adopting that defensive posture you know so well.
“Don't say that,” his voice comes out low, strained. “It wasn't like that.”
“It wasn't?” you inquire, pursing your lips, ”You said I was just a convenient fuck. I'm sure you can find someone else, then.”
Every word comes like poison from your lips, and though it pains you to say them, you know they're true. You see it in the way his face contorts slightly, as if your words have hit him where it hurts the most.
But he maintains that typical attitude of his, that mask of indifference he has perfected over the years.
You wait for him to contradict you, to deny it, to try to justify it. But nothing. He says nothing. He just stands there, staring at you seriously, jaw clenched and looking like he's having an internal fight, struggling against his thoughts, not knowing what to do or what to say.
And you again press your lips together, having enough of this.
”Get out.”
And he finally reacts, lowering his gaze and letting out a deep sigh, pursing his lips and looking at you again with a serious look.
“I can't give you what you want, Y/N.”
“But you do want me to give you what you want,” you say firmly and curtly, “Because Cerelle didn't, right?”
The words are out of your mouth before you can think about what you're going to say. But there it is, you've said it too.
His lips part, his whole body tenses, watching you in surprise and mild confusion, definitely not expecting that from you. And there, you leave him speechless, trying to understand how it is that you know about her.
And although for a second you look unsure about what you've said and regretful, you also decide that you're not going to keep quiet about it any longer. And you continue, with bitterness in your eyes and in your tone of voice.
“You forgot my birthday, because of her,” you say, each word like a dagger, ”You were late because you were with her.”
“How do you know about her?” he asks you instantly, his voice like ice.
You swallow hard softly, holding his gaze despite the pain it causes you.
Of course he would ask you that.
“I noticed something between you, when she went to the same parties as us,” you reply, “The way you looked at her, how your mood changed when she appeared and when you both disappeared,” you say with those moments replaying in your mind, still so present, “And then Aegon, drunk as usual, told me a few things.”
“What did he tell you?” he again asks you instantly, serious and thoughtful.
The rigidity in his body, the tension, is more evident now, as is the vulnerability and sadness in you as you talk about her. And you avert your gaze, with every word coming out of your mouth aching, but needing to say it all.
“That the two of you had a thing. That you're in love with her, but she's not in love with you.”
The muscle in his jaw tenses so tight you fear he'll break his teeth, his breathing grows heavier, and for a moment, you see a flash of raw pain in his eyes before the mask of coldness falls back into place.
“The worst part is that I've known that for a while now,” you continue, your voice cracking slightly despite your best efforts, ”I kept hoping I meant more to you than just your way of filling that void.”
For a moment, your mask of coldness cracks. But only for a moment. And you see a glimmer, of something deeper in her gaze. Guilt? Remorse?
But just as it appears, it vanishes. You notice how his hands open and close at his sides, a nervous gesture he rarely displays. His gaze again seems to search for something on the floor, before meeting your gaze again.
And when he finally speaks, his voice comes out lower, more controlled, as if each word is carefully measured.
“That was never my intention.”
It's almost as if the words hurt as they come out, as if a part of him wants to say more but doesn't know how. And you scoff, incredulous.
“Sure, you didn't mean to treat me as your second option and break my heart with every cold, disinterested attitude every time she came back to break yours?”
The silence that follows is heavy, laden with all the unsaid things between you.
“I can't give you what you want,” he repeats resignedly, watching you seriously.
“Then leave.”
“Y/N—
“No,” you interrupt him instantly, stepping back instinctively, ”I'm done here. I'm done with you. So leave. Don't come looking for me, ever again, do you understand? I don't want anything to do with you anymore.”
You are clear in your words. You're not playing games. You're not hesitating for a second. And you're being terribly honest.
Something snaps inside you, but there's also something starting to break free. There's no turning back now and you both know it, because this time, finally, you chose to put yourself first.
So you walk into your dorm room, while he stands in the middle of the hallway, not saying or doing anything else. And then you close the door.
AEMOND POV
There is something off… in the way you are no longer around.
It shows in the small details, the way you slowly disappeared from his life. In the way a message with your name no longer appears on his phone, nor a call.
In the way he was unconsciously so used to visiting you in your dorm or your going to his apartment. The way you used to fall asleep next to him in his big bed. The way you would make breakfast for the two of you before you went to class.
The way you both exchanged subtle glances when you were in a group with the guys or at parties. The way in secret encounters, stolen kisses in the shadows and passionate moments in his bedroom.
But there was also the way you always waited for him.
That's a thought that hits him with the force of a delayed revelation, something his own selfishness kept him from seeing before.
When he would ignore your texts or calls, when he wouldn't meet you, when he would cancel plans at the last minute, when he would disappear for days and barely be around, for her… for Cerelle.
Even on his bad days, after every fight with her, he would come back and there you were, without protest or asking for explanations. And then it was back to the usual routine; all secret. And casual.
He runs a hand through his hair, letting out a long breath. He looks at the clock on his nightstand; midnight. He can't sleep. His mind keeps him awake, because all he can think about, is you.
Since the day of your birthday, specifically, you've tormented his mind. Ever since he knew he fucked up, ever since you stopped answering his texts, calls, to ignoring him even when he was in front of you and leaving him behind, you haven't stopped rolling around in his mind.
He was supposed to be right now in Dragonstone, enjoying his vacation, like everyone else before the new semester crushes him with new difficulties, responsibilities and pressures.
But he decided not to go, because he couldn't. Because you were supposed to go with him.
He doesn't even want to admit how much that idea excited him. The two of you had made the plan, you were supposed to go with him. But when you canceled, without even telling him directly, it disappointed him in a way he didn't expect.
But he doesn't blame you. He can't. Not after what he did.
He's too proud though, too stubborn to accept it ending like this. He refuses to let you go, even when you've made it perfectly clear that you want nothing more to do with him. He can't help but seek you out, pursue you, unaware of the damage he continues to cause.
That's why he went looking for you. But he had already lost you, for a while now.
And he misses you. By the Gods, how he misses you.
He took you for granted, thinking you would always be there for him, even with his bad moods and his habit of taking it out on others, like he did on your birthday.
A growl of frustration escapes his throat as he brings a hand to his forehead, closing his eyes tightly.
The memory of that day haunts him like a curse. Not only did he ruin everything between you two, but he did it on your birthday. Your damn birthday that he forgot.
Guilt and regret flood him inside as he lies in his bed. And every memory, every mental image is a reminder of what he has lost because of his own stupidity.
How could he have been so blind? So selfish?
The silence of the night is deafening, interrupted only by the soft ticking of the clock and his own breathing. His eyes burn with exhaustion, but sleep refuses to take him.
Not when your voice echoes in his mind, repeating those words, “I kept waiting to mean more to you than just your way of filling that void.”
Suddenly, the silence is broken by the ringing of his phone. His heart violently flips in his chest, and for a moment, he thinks it might be you. His hands move with almost desperate speed to reach for his phone.
But hope dies quickly when he sees the name on the screen; Cerelle.
He stands completely still, watching the screen light up again and again with her call. And for the first time, something changes inside him. Instead of the usual anxious fluttering in his stomach when he sees her name, instead of that compulsive need to answer immediately, he feels… nothing.
Or maybe not nothing. He feels tiredness. A deep, overwhelming tiredness.
He knows exactly why she's calling. He can picture it perfectly, another fight with Aegon, tears in her voice, needing someone to listen to her, to comfort her. Needing him, not because she really wants him, but because it's convenient.
Because she knows he is always there, waiting like an idiot, ready to pick up the pieces his brother leaves behind.
“It wasn't your intention to treat me like your second choice? To break my heart with every cold, disinterested attitude every time she came back to break yours?”
The irony is not lost on him, he did to you exactly what Cerelle does to him. He used you to fill a void, to not feel so alone, so unloved.
The phone stops ringing, only to start again almost immediately. This time, however, he feels no hesitation. With a decisive move, he turns it off completely, cutting off the call and any chance of further messages.
He drops back onto the bed, his mind inevitably drifting back to you. It's as if he can't help himself, as if all his thoughts have a direct path to your memory.
He sees your face with a clarity that hurts him, the way your eyes sparkled when you laughed, how your nose crinkled slightly when something bothered you, the softness of your cheeks when you blushed, the way your hair fell over your face when you concentrated on something.
Your lips… the way they curved into a smile, how they felt against his, the taste of your kisses. Every detail of you is burned into his memory.
The silence of the night seems to taunt him, reminding him of all the times he could have done things differently, all the opportunities he had to value you as you deserved and wasted thinking of someone else.
He lost you because of his own stupidity, because of his inability to see what was in front of him until it was no longer there. For chasing an illusion with Cerelle while he had something real with you.
Summary: So what if you're fucking the weird dude? He has good dick game. But how were you supposed to know he gets attached easily?
Warnings: SMUT (18+); (pretty rough) car sex; oral (f!receiving); name calling (slut, whore etc); dark!Aemond near the end; hair pulling; choking; ass slapping; mentions of violence and blood
Words: 5.5k
Notes: No description of the reader. This was just going to be porn without a plot... but ofc I had to add some plot smh. This isn't dark dark, but it does contain some of the elements of it so... do not read it if you are not comfortable with that
𐔌 . ⋮ aera .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱
He was weird, unsettling, and genuinely offputting. That's why your friends were baffled to know that you were fucking him multiple times a week, in the backseat of his car, no less. "He has good dick," you tried to tell them, saying it was worth it. But your words fell on deaf ears as none of them understood. Why him?
With long hair dyed black with a cheap store colour and a run-down 2005 Volvo S40, he didn't seem the kind of guy who could fuck a girl until her throat was raw. But you knew the truth. That's why you kept coming back, time after time.
So it was no surprise that, once again, you found yourself in his lap. In the backseat of his car, kissing and moaning, his hard cock pressing into your aching core.
"Blood?" You ask as you taste copper on your tongue when kissing his jaw.
"Don't act like you don't find that hot," he grunted, a smug expression on his face. It's probably because whoever he fought, lost.
You smiled playfully, your lips brushing against his once more, caught in a moment where admitting he was right felt like submitting. The warmth between you grew, leaving just the two of you.
He tangled his fingers in your hair for a second before shifting his attention downward, fumbling with the delicate fabric of your flimsy top. The skin-tight shirt clung to your curves, resisting his attempts as if it had a will of its own. Frustration flickered across his face, but it was quickly replaced by determination as he continued to work his way around the stubborn material.
"Just rip it open for fuck's sake," you groan as he fumbles with your skin-tight white top. Your hips instinctively roll on top of his, ruining your cute white cotton panties with your juices.
Aemond groans deeply at your words. With a quick, decisive motion, he rips the fabric open, the sound of the tear deafening. Your black lacy bra is revealed, the delicate lace a stark contrast to his rough, calloused hands as they cup your breasts.
"Fuck, you're perfect," he growls, his thumbs rubbing over your nipples through the thin lace. "Gonna fucking wreck you."
He leans in, his hot mouth latching onto one nipple through the bra as his other hand slides down to rub your clit through your soaked panties. He groans against your skin at the wetness he finds there, the sound vibrating through you.
Oh gods, you are so fucking wet for him. You can feel your arousal soaking through the thin cotton, staining it with your desperation. You grind harder against the rigid bulge straining against his jeans, needing more friction, and more contact.
"So fucking wet for me already," he murmurs, his fingers pushing the fabric aside to delve between your folds. "Gonna make you come so hard."
You roll your hips harder against Aemond's bulge, your clit throbbing with every grind. Your skirt hangs loosely around your waist, resembling more of a belt.
"Fuck, these songs suck ass," you grumbled, reaching for Aemond's phone and scrolling through his playlists until you find something more to your liking. The change in music elicits a growl from Aemond, but you just smirk and lean in close, your lips brushing his jaw. The bass line of Rob Zombie's "Dragula" thumps through the car, a perfect complement to the nasty thoughts running through your mind.
"Okay, now you can fuck me," you giggle, your teeth grazing his skin before you soothe the sting with your tongue. You can taste the salt of his sweat, the copper tang of blood - a reminder of the fight he must have been in. Your curiosity gets the better of you.
"Who the fuck did you fight this time?" You ask, your voice low and husky with desire. But even as you speak, your focus is on the delicious friction between your legs, the way Aemond's hard length rubs against your aching core with every roll of your hips.
"Fucking some new guy, thought he could take me," Aemond growls, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise as he grinds up against you. "Taught him a lesson real quick."
He leans in, his teeth nipping at your earlobe as he speaks. "He won't be coming back anytime soon. Not after the way I shattered his ribs." His fingers dig into your hips, pulling you down harder onto his cock.
"Now, quit talking and start begging for it," he commands, his voice a low rumble in your ear. He places a few light smacks on your cheek, making you smile at the lewd actions.
You shake your head, a wide smile spreading across your face as your eyes lose focus. The depravity of the situation, the dingy car, the smell of sweat and sex, it all makes you even wetter. You can feel your arousal dripping down your thighs.
"You know I don't beg," you whisper, your lips brushing against his earlobe as you suck on it gently. Your teeth graze the sensitive skin, making him groan.
Aemond's grip on your hips tightens, his fingers digging in hard enough to leave marks. He sounds almost angry as he growls, "You'd better fucking start, or I'll stop right here."
"Fuck," you whimper as his bulge nudges against your clit, sending sparks of pleasure through your body. Your brows furrow, your eyes squeezed shut as you grind down harder, seeking more of that delicious friction.
To emphasize his point, he stills his hips, denying you the friction you crave. His other hand moves from your breast to wrap around your throat, applying just enough pressure to make you gasp.
"Please, Aemond," you moan, your voice breaking with need. "Fuck me. Use me. Make me forget everything but your cock inside me."
Aemond's eyes darken with lust at your words, a wicked grin spreading across his face. "That's more like it," he purrs, his grip on your throat relaxing just slightly. He leans in, his lips brushing against yours in a teasing kiss.
"Gonna fucking ruin you," he promises, his free hand moving down to grip your ass, fingers digging into the soft flesh. He pulls you down hard, grinding his clothed cock against your aching cunt.
"Gonna make you scream for me," he growls, his other hand moving from your throat to tangle in your hair. He yanks your head back, exposing your neck to his hungry mouth. He latches on, sucking hard enough to leave a mark, his teeth grazing your skin.
His hips are moving now, grinding up against you in a filthy rhythm. The rough denim of his jeans rubs against your sensitive clit. You can feel the heat of him through the fabric, the hard length of his cock straining against his zipper.
You moan sluttily, desperate, shameless noises filling his car. You're too far gone to care about your pride. Impatiently, you tug the cups of your bra down, exposing your hardened nipples to the cool air. They're almost painfully sensitive, aching to be sucked.
"Suck," you command, your voice low and demanding. You arch your back, offering your breasts to him like a sacrificial lamb.
Aemond's eyes darken at your demand, a wicked grin spreading across his face. "Oh, so you think you're in charge here, do you?" he growls, his hand fisting in your hair, yanking your head back.
You gasp at the sharp pain, your eyes watering. "I think you need to be put in your place, slut," he sneers, his other hand roughly palming your breast.
He leans in, his hot breath ghosting over your exposed nipple. "Beg for it," he commands, his voice low and dangerous.
You swallow hard, your pride fading due to your desperate need. "Please," you whimper, your voice small and needy. "Suck my tits, I need it so bad."
Aemond chuckles darkly, his teeth grazing your nipple. "That's more like it," he growls before his mouth envelops the sensitive bud.
You cry out, your back arching as he suckles hard, his tongue swirling around the hardened peak. The pleasure is intense, bordering on pain, and you can feel yourself getting wetter by the second.
"Fuck, that feels so good," you moan, your hand moving to the back of his head, trying to push him closer. But he pulls away, shaking his head.
"Hands off," he commands, his eyes flashing with anger. "You don't get to tell me what to do."
You whimper, your hand falling away. "Sorry," you whisper, your cheeks flushing with shame.
Aemond just smirks, his hand moving to your other breast, roughly squeezing the soft flesh. "Good girl," he purrs, before diving back in, his mouth hot and wet on your aching nipple.
You moan, your eyes fluttering closed as you lose yourself in the sensation.
"Fuck, you taste good," he growls against your skin, his hand moving to pinch and roll your other nipple between his fingers. The dual sensations make you cry out, your back arching as you press yourself further into his touch.
He releases your nipple with a wet pop, blowing cool air over the damp flesh. You whimper at the loss, your body craving more of his touch. "That's better," he says, his voice a low rumble in his chest. "You know your place."
Aemond's hand moves from your hair to your throat again, squeezing just enough to make you gasp for air. He leans in, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, "You gonna be a good girl and let me fuck you senseless?"
Your heart races, your breath coming in short, sharp gasps as Aemond's hand tightens around your throat. The lack of oxygen only adds to the haze of lust clouding your mind. You nod frantically, your eyes wide and pleading.
"Yes, yes, I'll be good," you whimper, your voice barely above a whisper.
Aemond's lips curve into a wicked grin against your skin, his teeth grazing your earlobe. "Fuck, you're so desperate for it, aren't you?" he growls, his hand releasing your throat to grip your hip, fingers digging into your skin hard enough to bruise.
He grinds up against you, the rough denim of his jeans rubbing against your aching clit. The friction is delicious, but not nearly enough. You need more. You need him inside you, stretching you, filling you.
"Yes, fuck yes, I'm desperate for it," you pant, your voice barely above a whisper. "I need you inside me, Aemond. I love it when you use me."
Aemond chuckles darkly, his lips brushing against your ear as he speaks. "Fuck, you're such a dirty little slut," he growls, his hand releasing your throat to grip your hair instead. He yanks your head back, exposing your neck to his hungry mouth.
"Gonna fucking ruin you," he promises, his teeth grazing your skin. "Gonna make you scream for me."
"Fuck, you're so wet," he groans. He yanks your head back, forcing you to meet his gaze. His eyes are dark with lust, filled with the depravity to come.
"Gonna fuck you so hard, you'll be feeling it for days," he promises, his hand moving from your hair to grip your throat again. He squeezes, cutting off your air supply just for a moment before releasing.
You gasp, your lungs burning for oxygen. But even then you still smile at him, biting your lip.
Aemond's eyes darken at the sight, a wicked grin spreading across his face. "Fuck, you're perfect," he growls, his hand releasing your throat to grip your ass hard enough to bruise. "A sight for sore eyes," he smirks, looking into your glossy eyes.
"Shit, I need to eat you out first," he groans, his jeans pressing down painfully on his throbbing cock.
He slides off the seat, kneeling between your legs as he slides your panties to the side impatiently. The scent of your arousal is thick in the air, making his cock throb with need. The cool air hits your aching cunt, making you shiver.
"Fuck, you smell incredible," he growls, his hot breath ghosting over your slick folds. He leans in, his tongue darting out to lap at your clit, making you cry out.
He groans at the taste of you, his tongue delving deeper, licking through your folds and fucking into your entrance. He eats you out like a man starved, his tongue moving in and out, his lips sucking on your clit.
His fingers delving between your folds. He brings them up to your lips, pressing them against your mouth. "Taste how fucking desperate you are for me."
You open your mouth obediently, sucking his fingers into your mouth. The taste of your arousal explodes on your tongue, musky and sweet. You moan around his fingers, your tongue licking and sucking, cleaning them of your juices.
Aemond's eyes darken with lust as he watches you suck his fingers clean, your tongue swirling around the digits. He growls low in his throat, his free hand moving to grip your breast, squeezing the soft flesh roughly.
"Fuck, you're so hot like this," he growls, his fingers popping out of your mouth.
He gets back up, leaving you unsatisfied and annoyed.
He grabs your hair, forcing your head back and making you look up at him. His eyes are dark with lust, his jaw clenched as he battles for control.
"Strip," he commands, his voice low and dangerous. "I want you fucking naked, now."
You scramble to obey, yanking your bra off, your breasts bouncing free, nipples hard and aching for his touch. Your miniskirt and panties are next, puddled on the floor of the car, leaving you bare and exposed.
"Shit, you look so good," Aemond growls, his eyes raking over your naked form. "I almost don't even want to ruin you... almost"
He flips you on your hands and knees, pushing your head down, forcing your ass in the air, holes completely exposed to him. He yanks you forward, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise. "Brace yourself, slut," he growls, grinding his clothed cock against your bare pussy. "Gonna fucking wreck you."
You crane your neck to look back at Aemond, a scoff leaving your lips. "Take a picture, it'll last longer," you mock, your voice dripping with sarcasm.
His eyes darken at your words, a low growl rumbling in his chest. "Oh, I'll take more than just a picture, baby," he promises, his hand coming down on your ass in a sharp smack.
You gasp at the sting, your pussy clenching in anticipation. "Promises, promises," you taunt, wiggling your ass invitingly. "You talk a big game, but I bet you can't even get it half hard."
Aemond's grip on your hips tightens, his nails digging into your skin hard enough to leave marks. "Fuck, you're so goddamn cocky," he snarls. "Gonna shut that smart mouth of yours."
You moan at the contact, your head falling forward as you push your ass back against him. "Big talk, dickhead," you pant, your voice breathy with need. "Let's see what you've got."
Aemond responds to your taunts with a sharp smack to your ass, the sound echoing in the confined space of the car. "Fuck, you're asking for it," he growls, his hand coming down again, harder this time.
You gasp, your ass jiggling from the impact. "Shit, you're making a mess of me," you whine, wiggling your hips. Your pussy is throbbing, aching to be filled.
"That's the idea, slut," Aemond grunts, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your ass cheeks. He spreads them apart, exposing your tight holes to his hungry gaze. "Gonna fucking wreck this tight little ass."
His hands move to his zipper, slowly dragging it down. The sound of the metal seems obscenely loud in the confined space of the car.
He pushes his jeans and boxers down just enough to free his cock, the thick shaft springing up, hard and ready. The head is already slick with precum, the veins along the length pulsing with his heartbeat.
He spits in his palm, rubbing his saliva over his cock, giving it some lubrication. Then he's pressing the tip against your drooling hole, the rough denim of his jeans scraping against your sensitive skin.
"Fuck, you're so fucking tight," he groans, pushing forward, the head of his cock breaching your hole. You cry out, the stretch intense, bordering on pain.
"Relax, slut," he commands, his hand coming down on your ass again. "Take that fucking cock like a good whore."
He starts to move, his hips rocking back and forth, inch by inch of his thick shaft sinking into your tight heat. Your walls clench around him, trying to adjust to the intrusion, but he doesn't give you time.
He starts fucking you in earnest, his hips snapping forward, driving his cock deeper with each thrust. The car rocks with the force of his movements, the seat creaking beneath you.
"Fuck, you take it so well," he pants, his hand moving from your ass to grip your hip, holding you in place as he fucks into you. "Gonna fucking ruin this tight ass."
You moan, your hands gripping the seat, nails digging into the cracked leather. The pain in your ass mixes with the pleasure, making your head spin.
"Harder," you beg, pushing your hips back to meet his, desperate for more. "Fuck me harder, shit."
Your juices drip down your thighs, pooling on the leather seat below as Aemond pounds into you.
Your hands grip the seat, nails digging into the cracked leather as you brace yourself for the onslaught. Aemond's hands are everywhere - gripping your hips, squeezing your ass, tugging at your hair. He uses you like a rag doll, fucking you with an animalistic need.
Aemond grunts, his grip on your hips tightening as he complies with your demand. "Fuck, you want it hard, slut?" he growls, his voice strained with effort. "Gonna fucking give it to you."
He pulls nearly all the way out, leaving just the tip inside your stretched hole. Then he slams back in, his hips connecting with your ass with a sharp smack. He sets a brutal pace, fucking into you recklessly, the car swaying with his thrusts.
"Shit, you're so fucking tight," he pants, sweat dripping down his face, his messy black hair sticking to his skin.
You can only moan, your mouth hanging open as you gasp for air. Your breasts bounce with each powerful thrust, your nipples hard and aching for attention.
Aemond's hand moves from your hip to your breast, squeezing the soft flesh roughly. He pinches your nipple between his fingers, twisting and tugging, sending sparks of pain through your body.
"Fuck, your tits are perfect," he groans, his hand moving to your other breast, giving it the same treatment.
You whimper, your pussy clenching around his pistoning cock. The combination of pain and pleasure is overwhelming, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.
You reach down, fingers finding your clit, rubbing in tight circles. The added stimulation makes you see stars, your back arching as you moan.
"Fuck, you're such a dirty girl," Aemond pants. "Getting off on being used like a fucking toy."
"Shit, I'm close," you pant, your nails digging into the leather seat and your fingers moving on your clit. "Don't stop, fuck, don't stop," you moan, your hips bucking back against him, seeking more friction. His fingers rub your clit in tight circles, the pressure building with each stroke.
He pulls your hair, forcing your back to arch, your ass pushing back against him. The new angle allows him to go even deeper, his cock hitting that sweet spot inside you that makes you see stars.
"That's it, take it all you little slut," he pants, his hand moving from your tit to your clit, replacing your hand, rubbing the sensitive nub in tight circles.
"Fuck, I'm gonna come," you whimper, your body tensing. "Please, Aemond, please."
"Do it," he commands, his fingers moving faster on your clit. "Come for me like the good little whore you are."
With a cry, you shatter, your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave. Your pussy clenches around his cock, your walls rippling along his shaft.
Aemond groans, his hips stuttering as your orgasm milks his cock. "Fuck, I'm gonna cum," he growls, his thrusts becoming erratic. "Where do you want me to spill?"
Your body convulses as the intense orgasm rips through you, your vision blurring and stars bursting behind your eyelids. "On my ass, fuck!" You cry out, the words torn from your throat. "Cum all over my ass!"
You arch your back, pushing your hips against Aemond's, desperate for more. Your pussy clenches around his cock, milking him.
You can feel his grip on your hips tighten, his thrusts becoming more erratic as he chases his release. The sound of your skin slapping together fills the car, mixed with your heavy breathing and moans of pleasure.
Aemond's cock throbs inside you, his thrusts becoming more erratic as your pussy milks him. He growls low in his throat, his hand fisting in your hair, yanking your head back.
"Fuck, gonna paint your ass white," he pants, his hips slamming against your ass with bruising force.
He pulls out abruptly, his cock slipping from your clenching hole with a wet sound. You whimper at the loss, your pussy aching to be filled again.
Aemond's hand comes down on your ass in a sharp smack, the sting making you gasp. "Present yourself," he growls, his voice low and dangerous. "Wanna see you take my load like a good little whore."
You arch your back even more, spreading your thighs as far as you can in the limited space. Your spasming holes are on full display for his hungry gaze.
Aemond kneels behind you, his cock in his hand, stroking it with quick, rough motions. "Fuck, you're such a good little girl," he pants, his eyes dark with lust as they roam over your body. "Too bad you're such a filthy slut."
He starts to come, his cock jerking in his hand as thick ropes of cum splatter across your ass and pussy. You moan, your fingers dipping between your folds to gather some of his cum, bringing it to your mouth.
"Fuck, look at you," Aemond groans, his hand still working his shaft, milking out every last drop. "Eating my cum like the dirty whore you are."
He collapses next to you on the seat, his chest heaving as he catches his breath. He reaches out, his fingers tangling in your hair, tugging your head back to look at him.
"You're fucking perfect," he growls, his eyes intense as they bore into yours. "Mine."
"Mhm," you hum, collapsing onto Aemond's chest, your body spent and sated. The car reeks of sex and sweat, your combined releases staining the seats. It's filthy and sinful, turning you on.
Aemond's arms wrap around you, pulling you close as he strokes your hair. You nuzzle into his neck, breathing in his scent, a mix of cologne and sex.
"That was intense," you murmur, your voice low and breathy. "You really know how to fuck a girl stupid."
Aemond chuckles, his chest rumbling beneath you. "Fucking right I do," he boasts, his fingers tangling in your hair. "You're a damn good lay, too. Always so fucking eager for my cock."
He tugs on your hair, forcing your head back to look at him. His eyes are dark, filled with lust and possessiveness. "You're mine," he growls, his voice low and dangerous. "This tight little body belongs to me."
"Such a good girl," he praises, his other hand cupping your cheek, thumb brushing over your swollen lips. "Gonna keep you."
You smile against his fingers, a wicked gleam in your eyes. "Keep me for what?" you tease. "You're not my man. I'm not your's to keep," you whisper, feeling an ache in your heart for some reason.
Aemond's eyes flash with a dangerous light, his grip on your chin tightening as he yanks your face closer to his.
His grip on your chin tightened. "The fuck I'm not," he growls, his voice low and menacing. "I've had you more times than I can count. I know every inch of this body, every fucking sound you make when I'm buried inside you."
He shifts, his face mere inches from yours, his breath hot against your lips. "You're mine, whether you admit it or not."
His other hand slides down your body, fingers dipping between your thighs to gather the cum leaking from your abused hole. He brings it to your lips, smearing it across them.
"Look at you, so fucking dirty, so desperate for my cum. You can pretend all you want, but deep down, you know you belong to me."
He crashes his lips against yours in a bruising kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth, claiming you with a ferocity that steals your breath.
When he pulls back, you're panting, your lips swollen and tingling. "You're mine," he whispers, his voice rough with emotion. "And I'm never letting you go."
His words send a shiver down your spine, a mix of fear and something else, something you're not quite ready to name.You press your forehead against his, your eyes fluttering closed as you try to steady your breathing.
"I don't belong to anyone," you whisper, but there's no conviction in your voice. "We're just fucking, Aemond. Don't make it more than it is."
Aemond's eyes darken, a flash of anger crossing his face before it's quickly replaced with a predatory smirk. "Just fucking?" he repeats, his voice low and dangerous. "Is that what you think this is?"
He sits up, pulling you with him so you're straddling his lap. His hands grip your hips, fingers digging into your soft flesh as he holds you in place.
"We've been doing this for months, baby," he reminds you, his voice rough. "You think I don't know the difference between a quick fuck and what we have?"
He leans in, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, "I know every inch of this body, every fucking sound you make, every way you tremble and writhe when I'm inside you."
"Stop fighting it," he growls, his eyes boring into yours. "You might tell your friends that this means nothing to you, that you think I'm some creepy guy you fuck. Yet you still keep coming back.."
Your breath catches in your throat, his words sending a shiver down your spine. How does he know? You've never told him those things. You shake your head, a strand of hair falling across your face. "No, I've never said that," you whisper, your voice trembling. "I swear."
You try to pull away, but his grip on your hips tightens, holding you in place. His eyes bore into yours, dark and intense, searching for any sign of deceit. "I wouldn't say those things about you," you insist. "I don't think you're weird."
Aemond's eyes narrow, his grip on your hips tightening until it almost hurts. "Don't lie to me," he growls, his voice low and menacing. "I know you talk shit about me to your friends. I know you think I'm some kind of freak."
He leans in, his breath hot against your cheek. "But you keep coming back, don't you? You keep spreading your legs for me, begging me to fuck you like the desperate little slut you are."
His hand moves from your hip to your throat, his thumb brushing over your pulse point. "You can't resist me, can you? No matter how much you try to pretend, your body knows who it belongs to."
He squeezes your throat, not enough to cut off your air, but enough to make your heart race. "I've heard you, baby," he whispers, his lips brushing against your ear. "I've heard you call me a freak, a deviant. But you still come back, letting me use your tight little body for my pleasure."
Your cheeks flush with shame and embarrassment as Aemond's words sink in. You try to pull away from his grip, your naked bodies still intertwined, but his hold is too strong. "Yes, fine. I have said those things about you," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.
You search his eyes, trying to find the right words. "Aemond, you fight people. You're dangerous." You say it with a seriousness that misrepresents the thrill that runs through you at the very thought. It's the danger that makes him so appealing.
You sigh, your fingers caressing his face, tracing the strong lines of his jaw. "Must you have such an effect on me?" You mutter, before leaning in to kiss him.
Aemond's lips meet yours in a savage kiss, his tongue plundering your mouth with a fierce intensity. His grip on your throat tightens, his fingers digging into your skin as he holds you in place.
When he finally pulls back, you're both breathing heavily, your lips swollen and stinging from the force of his kiss.
"You fuckin' love it," he growls, his voice rough with desire. "You love the danger, the thrill of being with a man who can break you."
"Admit it," he presses, his voice low and dangerous. "You get off on the fact that I could snap anyone's fucking neck with one hand."
Aemond's grip on your throat loosens, his thumb stroking your pulse point in a surprisingly tender gesture.
"Would you ever hurt me?" You whisper, your breath hot on his lips, your faces mere inches apart. A flicker of fear in your eyes, but it's quickly overshadowed by the desire burning within you. You search his gaze, looking for any sign of malice, any hint of danger. But all you see is raw, primal hunger.
Your fingers trace the lines of his jaw. He's so close. It's intoxicating and terrifying at once. You have seen him fight, seen the way he's hurt others with minimal effort. He could break you, shatter you into a million pieces if he wanted to.
Aemond's eyes soften for a moment, a rare vulnerability flickering in their depths. "You think I'd hurt you?" he asks, his voice low and rough. "Baby, I'd die before I let anyone lay a finger on you."
He leans in, pressing his forehead against yours. "You're mine," he growls, his voice fierce with possessiveness. "And I protect what's mine."
His hand slides from your throat to your cheek, cupping your face gently. "I may be aggressive, but I'm not a pig," he murmurs, his thumb tracing your bottom lip. "I'd never hurt you, not like that."
"But make no mistake," he whispers, his voice low and dangerous. "I'll hurt anyone who tries to take you from me."
You bite his thumb lightly as he speaks, his possessive demeanour sending a jolt of electricity through you. "Anyone who would hurt me?" You purr, leaning into his touch like a small lamb. His words ignite a fire deep within you, a primal desire to be owned, claimed, and protected.
You know you shouldn't give in to this, but you can't help yourself. The way he looks at you like you are the only woman in the world, it's intoxicating.
Aemond growls low in his throat, his eyes darkening with lust at the feel of your teeth on his skin. "That's right, baby," he purrs, his hand sliding from your cheek to the back of your neck, tangling in your hair. "You're mine, and I'll fucking kill anyone who tries to take you away from me."
Your breath hitches in your throat at Aemond's words, his dangerous claims sending a shiver down your spine. You meet his gaze, your eyes are wide and full of devotion, a vulnerability you rarely show to anyone.
He tugs you closer, his lips brushing against yours in a feather-light kiss. "I'll protect you," he whispers, his breath hot against your skin. "I'll cherish you. I'll fucking worship you."
Your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him closer. "I'm yours," you whisper, your voice trembling with desire. "Body and soul."
Aemond's eyes flash with fierce triumph at your words, a primal look of satisfaction spreading across his face. "That's right, you're fucking mine," he growls, tugging you closer and crushing his lips to yours in a searing kiss.
"Get dressed, pretty girl. I'm taking you to my place," he demands, leaving no room for argument.
Aemond's eyes blaze with desire as he watches you scramble to put on your clothes, your naked body still slick with his cum. He licks his lips, his cock already hardening again at the sight of you.
He helps you to the passenger seat, smirking. "Hope you don't mind a messy ride."
In which: Aemond invites you to his family’s estate for thanksgiving
Warnings: Targaryen family antics, slight classism
Kings Landing college was a huge school. It was hard to get into and even more expensive to pay for your schooling if you didn’t have a scholarship. You came from a lesser than family, so you really had to work hard to get in. Even with a scholarship you still had to pay half of tuition.
Your peers were always worried about the newest celebrity or the hottest guy on the market. You however always had your head in a book. It was like that all throughout high school and that was the path you were going down in college.
That was until you got to campus and realized you were now attending college with popular nepo baby, Aemond Targaryen. Everyone knew him and his family— how could they not?
His father, Viserys Targaryen started a stocks company and it really took off, becoming successful and a whole family affair.
You tried not to care too much because it wasn’t like you’d have any contact with Aemond, or so you thought because the two of you just kept bumping into the other. You had no intention to start a relationship with Aemond, but he had all intentions to be with you.
He’d get notes from you despite always being in class, he learned your coffee order and started to bring it to you as a gift for always looking out for him and other boyfriend like things. The day he asked you out, you were shocked. There were plenty of more attractive rich girls for him to be with and he chose you?
The two of you went out a few dates before he finally asked you to be his. You weren’t surprised, but you were definitely hesitant. Living in your own financial insecurity, you were scared he’d see you as a gold digger, or he’d realize the two of you were vastly different and dump you.
But Aemond— who’d never gotten this attached to a woman before— had truly fallen for you. He didn’t care about the major gaps in your worlds. He just wanted you, and he wasn’t taking no for an answer just because you were in your own head.
So you two began to date. And for two years you never met his family, and of course you wanted to, but you understood Aemond’s feelings towards them and you respected that. So imagine your surprise when Aemond came to you wanting you to join him and his family at Thanksgiving.
“Aemond, does my outfit look okay?” You walked out of the bedroom with an unsure look on your face as you smoothed out your dress. For some stupid reason you felt like you had to really impress Aemond’s family.
Aemond, trying to calm your nerves the best he could, stood up and took his hands in yours. “The dress is fine. You look great. You shouldn’t be so nervous.” He said. You took a deep breath, nodding as if his words were actually registering.
“I’m just nervous, I guess. I mean your family is so… intimidating. And that’s just what I’ve gathered from a screen, I’m actually gonna be face to face with them.” You rambled, still straightening out your dress as some self soothing thing.
Aemond, having the advantage of height over you, bent down slightly so you had to look into his eye. “Hey, the second you feel uncomfortable we’re out of there. It doesn’t matter how early or how late. I’d much rather be eating shitty food alone with you than let them tear you apart.”
That made you smile a little. “Okay. I guess we should get going then, I’d hate to be late.” Aemond pressed a kiss to your lips before he straightened up.
“That’s my girl.”
It took thirty minutes for you two to arrive to the estate. There was a long gravel driveway and a gate separating the home itself and the driveway. There was gorgeous greenery and lots of fancy cars already parked.
“We aren’t late, are we?” You asked, your nerves way worst than they were at home. Aemond only gave you a look, shutting off the car and taking off his seatbelt.
“We’re right on time. Trust me.” He assured you.
The two of you got out of the car and began to walk towards the house. Aemond could feel your nerves radiating off of you. He never was the best at reassurance, but putting his hand on your back and rubbing it up and down slightly did the trick for you.
Walking into the house, your breath caught in your throat at just how breathtaking it was. The foyer was huge, family photos hung on the walls and intricate vases and pieces rested on tabletops.
Aemond glanced down at you, making sure your face showed no signs of regret or genuine nerves. “Are you ready to go in?” He motioned to the kitchen area where various voices were coming from.
You chewed on your bottom lip— a nervous habit of yours. “Yeah. Come on.” The two of you stepped into the kitchen. Immediately you recognized Viserys and Alicent and his daughter, Rhaenyra talking amongst themselves. The way the home was set up, there was a living area a few feet away from the kitchen where some other family members you couldn’t name off the top of your head.
One thing you did notice was the conversation in the room slightly stilled— not noticeable, but of course you noticed. Alicent— his mother— began walking towards you two.
“Aemond!” She beamed, wrapping her arms around her second son. “I’m happy to see you. I didn’t think you’d make it,” Alicent then turned to you, she gave you a polite smile, something that wasn’t unwelcome but also not the warmest.
“Who’s your date, dear?” She asked him, her intimidating gaze still on you.
Aemond stayed cool, he pulled you in slightly closer to him. “This is [name]. She’s my girlfriend, actually.” A timid smile spread across your face as you stuck out your right hand.
“It’s great to meet you, Mrs. Targaryen. You have a lovely home.” You didn’t want to lay it on too thick, so you stuck to what was definitely true.
“Thank you, dear.” Was all she said before turning back to the others in the room. Aemond and you began to walk towards his father who looked a tad bit… jolly? To meet you.
“Love, this is my father, Viserys,” you quickly shook the man’s hand.
“Great to meet you, dear. Aemond’s never brought anyone home before.” He teased, actually getting a laugh out of you.
“Father, please.” Aemond sighed as you two moved over to his sister. “This is my sister, Rhaenyra.” You shook her hand as well, absentmindedly noting she smelt really good.
“It’s nice to meet you, beautiful dress.” You smiled at her compliment, your hand smoothing over your dress once more.
“Thank you, I spent a while picking it out.”
The two of you moved to the living room now where another older, white haired woman sat with a brown skinned man. “And this is Rhaenys and her husband Corlys.”
Both Rhaenys and Corlys shook your hand, saying it was lovely to meet you.
“Where’s everyone else?” Aemond asked, his hand holding yours once more.
“The older kids went on a walk in the garden. The children are playing somewhere around here.” Alicent informed her son, looking like she knew what was happening in the garden all too well.
You and Aemond exited through the back door, heading to the garden to meet his cousins and siblings. You weren’t as nervous because meeting people your age didn’t seem as scary as meeting Aemond’s parents and uncles and aunts.
“Lot of walking.” You chuckled awkwardly. Aemond glanced down at you for a second.
“Great for hide and seek.” He muttered.
Finally you two did make it to the garden. The way it was set up, there was a fountain in the middle and a bench. On that bench and around it were his siblings and cousins. His brother, Aegon, who was smoking a joint, noticed you two first.
“Look who it is! My baby brother!” He passed the joint to Jacaerys who was just babysitting the stick of weed to pull Aemond into a hug that Aemond definitely didn’t want. “Argh! You get taller, eh?” He chided before turning over to you.
“And who’s your girl?”
You were feeling a bit more confident, so you introduced yourself. “I’m [name]. Hi.” You waved awkwardly, knowing hand shaking would be a bit too formal for this crowd.
“Aemond’s girlfriend?” His sister, Helaena questioned before she took a hit of the joint.
“Yes, she’s my girlfriend. Since when do you smoke?” Aemond asked with the raise of his eyebrow.
Helaena giggled breathily. “For this night? Everyone’s gonna need a hit to get through tonight. Would you like one?” She pushed the join in your direction, you giggled sheepishly.
“No that’s okay. I’d rather face this sober.” That got a laugh from most of them.
“Well there’s a while before they’re gonna want us inside, so sit. We wanna get to know you.” Baela said, making room for you on the bench.
And get to know you they did. Everyone, but mostly Aegon, was asking all types of questions. You actually started to loosen up which relieved Aemond a whole lot.
Before anymore fun could be poked, a tan man emerged out of the bushes. “Children, your presence is requested inside.” Aegon, being ever the challenger, snorted.
“Of course it is. Someone say a prayer.” He remarked sarcastically.
Walking back to the house, you and Aemond were a bit behind the others. You whispered to Aemond. “I’m kinda nervous again.”
“Don’t be. Just be the way you were back there, it’ll be alright.” He reassured you for the millionth time tonight. You nodded like you were trying to believe that.
“Yeah okay.”
The second you walked back in, the smell of food hit you. You’d realized among all the stress of trying to be perfect, you hadn’t eaten. You were starving, but of course you couldn’t pig out. All these thoughts were running through your mind before you even hit the table.
You were wedged between Helaena and Aemond, not too far from Jacaerys either. A variety of foods were scattered around the table, waiting to be passes along. All of you joined hands as Alicent said a quick prayer, then it was eating time.
You got about five minutes of eating in before the questions rolled in. It started with Aemond’s father.
“What are you majoring in, dear?” He asked, setting his fork down with a clink. You looked up from your plate, a polite smile on your face.
“Uhm, psychology. I wanna be a psychologist.” You answered, pushing your potatoes back and forth absentmindedly. Daemon, Aemond’s uncle, snorted under his breath.
“Great. This family can be your first patients.” Viserys shot his brother a look while you were trying to keep a straight face.
“I know Aemond’s majoring in business. How’d the two of you come to meet with such different majors?” Alicent asked, curiosity in her voice with a slight undertone of something more bite-y.
“Well, we had a few classes together. I obviously noticed him, but I wasn’t gonna, like, say hi,” you chucked softly. “One day I had to miss class, so he got my notes. It was a blur from there.”
“So sweet.” Helaena commented, giving you her kindest smile.
“Indeed it is. It’s comical Aemond got a girlfriend before Aegon.” Aemond’s little brother, Daeron ribbed from the other end of the table. The cousins laughed, so did you a little meanwhile Aegon sent his middle finger to his brother.
You were clear from the more “serious” questions for a while. It was mostly you and Aemond’s cousins and siblings telling you about Aemond as a child to embarrass him.
The room died down in conversation for a moment, everyone mostly focusing on their meal. You were doing the same as them, but Aemond wasn’t. He was subtly keeping an eye on you, making sure you were comfortable.
It didn’t take you long to notice his staring. You found it endearing, but also a tad amusing. You turned to him, giving him a look that said “I’m fine,” in return, he placed his hand on your thigh.
The table cleared out a hour ago, mostly everyone was in the living room. You’d ended up on the couch, talking with Viserys.
“What does your family do? Are they in the business scene any?” He asked you, swirling around his brandy.
You took in a breath. The answer to his question was the exact reason you’d been doubting you were even good enough for Aemond.
“My dad worked in the plants and my mom was a—” you cut yourself off, trying to find a better way to ultimately say your mother was a maid. “My mom cleaned houses. But they’re both retired now.”
Viserys raised his brows to their highest, his mouth slightly agape as if he didn’t want to say the wrong thing.
“Well… those are good careers to have. People like your parents are the backbones of organizations.” You nodded, a small smile graced your lips.
“Thank you, sir.”
Across the room, on the other couch, Alicent and Aemond were having a conversation. She hadn’t really mentioned you until she’d overheard you saying what your parents did for work. She couldn’t help but scoff.
“Were there honestly no other girls on campus for you to pick?” Her tone was blatantly crude and hurtful.
Aemond gave his mother a pointed look. He hated to say it, but he had a feeling it would be her to press him about you. “There’s many girls on campus, mother. Only she stuck out to me. I only want her.”
“Aemond, she’s not a good girl for you. She’s—!” The word poor died on her lips, but Aemond had already pieced together what she was insinuating.
“She’s what, exactly? Poor? A gold digger? And you wonder why I never come home.” He shot back, irritation coursing through him.
“Fine. Don’t listen to me. Be a fool.” Alicent said, throwing her hand up to say she was ridding herself of it. Aemond stood up, crossing the room to get to you. There was an empty space beside you which Aemond took for himself.
“Oh, hi.” You smiled, leaning into his side. “You okay?”
Aemond wrapped his arm around your shoulders, giving you a slight nod. “I’m fine. You?” He waited for you to nod before he carried on. “Are you ready to leave?” He asked you.
“Uh— yeah. If you are. And could we get taco bell? The food was kinda bland.” He almost smiled at your comment, but of course Aemond rarely smiled.
“No problem. Go ahead and start going to the car. I’ll meet you halfway.” Despite all the people in the room and Alicent watching but pretending not to, Aemond leaned down to peck your lips.
Less than an hour later, you and Aemond were parked at a taco bell. Aemond watched you eat your quesadillas with satisfaction on your face.
“Was it okay? You weren’t too uncomfortable, no?” You shook your head.
“No, it really wasn’t so bad. But I did hear what your mom said about me.” You told him. You and Aemond never really harbored secrets or feelings, it mostly came out one way or another.
Aemond’s face contorted into something protective. “I’m sorry you had to hear that, love. I don’t believe a word she insinuated. You’re perfect for me.” He reassured you, his hand rubbing comforting lines on your thigh.
You smiled thinly. “Thanks. I do feel a bit better.” You leaned up and kissed the scar beneath his eye— an intimate gesture. “I love you, Aemond.”
“And I love you. Finish up eating. I’m ready to go home and watch those hallmark films you love.” He urged, no real rush in his tone.
“Of course.” You giggled, taking another bite of your food.
Modernteendad!Cregan Stark doesn't understand why Rickon walking around the house saying "six seven" makes his girlfriend laugh since the only phone he has it's just some old BlackBerry.
Summary: the annual targaryen summer party, a sundress, and almost getting caught.
Pairing: modern!aemond targaryen x fiancé!reader
Fic warnings: smut (MDNI), rich boy!aemond, semi-public sex, no panties and the heat has aemond acting dizzy, quickie in the sun/shenanigans in the garden, sundress kink, oral (f), fingering (f), being taken from behind, Aemond get's a little nasty and doesnt care that you're sweaty, almost getting caught, realising that you do infact like fucking when there's high stakes.
Word count: 11.2k
authors note: summers here and so am i with some smut, no beta just vibes and the will to live (ill catch and mistakes later and rage about it to myself)
masterlist
The Red Keep Estate
Aemond wasn’t sure if it was the relentless glare of the sun that was causing the dull, pulsing ache behind his eye, or the more likely culprit — the oppressivly stiffling weight of yet another year spent sitting stiffly at this table in his mother’s garden, surrounded by family members who he’d rather lose another eye than see again.
It was a common tradition, something that had been going on much longer than he had even drawn breath, that everyone would gather at the estate during the summer for a week and pretend that they didn’t hate each other for a few moments. Every summer without fail, he’d drive out here from his place in the city, sit there and pretend he didn’t loathe his half-sister and the entitled brood she’d brought with her, nor his uncle's side of the family with the cousins that hated him. Truth be told, even his own siblings tested the last of his patience, Aegon and Daeron were too similar to mesh with his personality, and Helaena was too drawn in to be decent company.
It was something that he truly dreaded, that was until you came into his life.
While, no, he still didn’t ever want to come home for the summer and sit with his family, the idea of being there was made at least a little sweeter on his tongue by the inclusion of you in his life. Despite dating for 3 years, and now engaged, he hesitated at first to even bring him with you on these trips, he feared what proximity to his family might undo what the two of you had so carefully built together — feared that the venom and rot that clung to his bloodline might somehow seep into you too. That a single weekend at the estate might unravel everything and reduce the rare calm he’d found in you into ashes.
But surprisingly you took to the challenge easily.
You often softened his edges, dulling the sharpness he carried into every interaction he was forced to have, and gave him something to focus on that wasn’t raw frustration or contempt for his family. Aemond was truly and desperately thankful for you in his life, not just in this regard, but in every way possible.
While he usually didn’t want to attend most years, this year was especially filled with reluctance, but for good reason. At the beginning of summer, he had proposed to you, and he was set on making this summer about just the two of you. Wanting to celebrate your life together, relaxing, and getting things in place to eventually start planning a wedding. Being both busy people, all he wanted was to jet away to some sun-struck island in Essos and pretend that he couldn’t hear his phone ringing for 3-4 glorious weeks.
But things hadn’t gone to plan, and he was still kicking himself for it.
Just days before your departure, the two of you in your bedroom; your suitcases open and half-filled on the bed as you moved quickly between drawers, deciding what to bring, picking out his clothes because he thought you dressed him best. All while he sat in the bay window, silent as the night with arms resting on his knees, his gaze fixed on you while you fluttered around like his little butterfly.
“What about this one, baby?” You had mused while holding up a soft blue dress, the fabric thin for the weather and silk, floor length and low backed, “Is it too much?”
Aemond could have melted at the way you turned from the closet; eyebrows pulled in that way he loved as you looked to him for an opinion. You never realized how beautiful you were in the quiet moments. How he could fall in love with you all over again just watching you stand in your shared space, caring about the little things.
“No, my love…” He sighed softly, standing up from the bay window to approach you, his hands meeting your waist instantly as he pressed himself to your back, “However, it would look a lot better if we were on the beach, or by the sea, not at my mother’s house.”
You only smiled softly at him, lowering the dress as you looked back at him, a gentle twitch to your lips that had him relaxing instantly, “It won’t be that bad…”
“You know I hate it.” He sighed softly, head dipping down to press a kiss to your nape, “I can see my mother whenever during the year, the rest of them… I can live without…”
You didn’t answer straight away.
Instead, you hung the dress back into your closet before turning in his arms, a sweet sigh passing your lips your own wrapped around his neck. You tilted your head slightly, face soft and fingers sinking into the back of his long hair. Trying to calm his frustration in any way you could, fingers brushing the back of his scalp in a soothing rhythm.
His eye had closed at your touch.
“I know,” you whispered, and that was all it took; no rebuttal, no platitudes, just quiet understanding. That was always the difference with you. “We only have to stay for a week, max, then what about we go on a smaller vacation, before you have to go back to work, hm?”
If he had the strength, he would have cancelled the whole bloody trip, and taken you to that island for the whole time instead. Somewhere warm and blue and so far away from his family that he might have forgotten their names eventually. Somewhere your skin would taste of salt and sunlight, and he could pretend that the rest of the world didn’t exist.
He imagined you in that blue dress you just showed, walking barefoot through the pale sand of Volantis, the wind playing with your hair, your laughter carrying in the breeze. He imagined the two of you tangled in white sheets of your bed beneath an open window, your moans getting lost to the sea, the ocean murmuring back.
He imagined no phones, no work, just long days, warm nights, and the chance to breathe with you.
But instead, he’d nodded, leaning down as he kissed your forehead and said, “Alright.”
And just like that, the island faded into a dream.
Now here the two of you were, stuck at his mother’s estate for about a week and a half, surrounded by everyone he hated.
As expected from his mother, the garden was in full bloom, the air heavy with the sickly-sweet scent of everything that grew on the ground. But none of it could disguise his barely concealed disdain for the situation still. Aemond still dreamed to be on a beach, but instead, he was here, jaw tight, hands folded, playing his part beneath the merciless summer sun.
He sat stiffly beneath the shade of the veranda, the collar of linen his shirt already sticking to his neck. At your instance this morning, his hair was up to try and cool him and he nursed some sweating cold drink his mother thrust into his hand.
He had little interest in talking to his family who were sparse around the grounds, his brothers off somewhere on the other side of the estate most likely getting high. His mother tucked down by the firepit, sharing conversation with his half-sister and their new baby. While his uncle was chatting mindlessly to the welp of his nephew, the familiar bunch of brown curls made Aemond want to launch the crystal glass he held at them.
So instead, his eye settled on you, chatting to his sister with the same thought he’s had for weeks; he wasn’t supposed to be here. That it was supposed to be just you and him alone. Not surrounded by his brother’s booming laughter echoing through the estate like a war drum, or rolling his eye at his uncle’s passive-aggressive barbs wrapped towards his side of the family, or his mother’s carefully worded guilt.
From his seat, he could see you clearly across the garden, standing with his Helaena near one of the tables of food laid out for everyone. Your posture open, your expression kind, as always. You laughed softly at something Helaena said, showing her the ring on your finger while tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as you listened to her fawning.
Aemond watched the way the sunlight caught you, how natural you looked even here, even surrounded by people who barely tried to hide their judgement towards each other.
He envied your patience sometimes, your grace.
And then, there was that dress.
The blue one you’d held up for him in your shared bedroom, voice playful, eyes bright. He hadn’t forgotten. He never would. And now, seeing it on you, draped so deliciously over your form, catching the summer breeze, it stirred something low and possessive in him, curling in the pit of his stomach.
You were truly radiant to look at even from here, all light limbs and grace. He never got the chance to ever just look from a distance, be he ate it up, the way one moment you leaned down to look at something your sister-in-law pointed out in the flower beds, and the next you twirled gently, fingers dancing across a cluster of blooms. His lips twitching as your laughter rang loud.
Aemond couldn’t look away, he didn’t care who else was watching, you were his fiancé and he’d look at you as much as he pleased.
The soft blue silk hugged your body in all the right places, loose enough to seem delicate but not so loose that it hid anything from a trained eye — his eye. The low back dipped scandalously, your skin glistening faintly under the sun, which he knew was a salty mix of sweat and the vanilla oil you put on this morning. The way the fabric shifted with every step made something inside him still.
He knew he was looking particularly hard, but it was something to do while he ignored everyone else, then he saw it. It was a single moment, a trick of movement. A subtle shift of the fabric as you stepped sideways. There was no lining of your usual panties, no outline beneath the waist, nothing beneath.
Nothing.
His breath hitched, his jaw tightening with restraint and the glass in his hand suddenly felt too fragile, too full. You weren’t wearing anything under the dress. He swallowed hard, gaze darkening, his eye dragging down your silhouette with a different kind of focus now. Everything else around him blurred — no more idle chatter, no clinking glasses or rustling leaves.
Just you.
The curve of your hip as the silk slid over it. The gentle press of your breasts beneath the fabric, untethered and entirely his to imagine. The faintest imprint of your body when you turned toward the sun, arms stretched as you lifted your hair to cool your neck.
Did you do it on purpose?
He wouldn’t put it past you, you were clever like that and quietly bold. While you were never one for unnecessary attention, you did know how to drive him mad without a single word.
His hand flexed involuntarily around the glass, and he had to force his breathing to slow.
The idea of you wandering around his mother’s garden like that, unapologetically free, a secret beneath silk, set every nerve alight. It was torture, beautiful, exquisite torture.
It was like you could feel him looking from across the way as you turned your head to him, your eyes locking with his for a single, knowing second.
And in that second, Aemond knew you knew.
You smiled.
Just the softest curve of your lips, but to Aemond, it was a detonation powerful enough to knock the air from his lungs. You knew that he’d seen, that he was looking, that he couldn’t not look.
The way your head tilted slightly as you turned back to Helaena, the way your fingers played idly with the fabric of your dress as you listened — it was all intentional now.
Not for the others, not for the garden, not for the family sipping wine and gossiping between each other. This was just for him, a private performance only he could appreciate from across the lawn.
Aemond felt something dark stir in his chest; want, frustration, and a deep, aching need to be anywhere else with you. Somewhere far from all of this pretence. Somewhere he could peel that dress from your body with the care of a collector unwrapping silk, not in haste, but in worship. Somewhere your laughter wouldn’t echo politely in a curated garden, but loud and breathless in a room where he could pin you to the edge of a sunlit window and finally, finally, take what you so clearly wanted him to.
The dress moved again as the two of you stepped away from something Helaena was showing you. He could see more now, the way the dress clung to your waist, the curve of your hips, and lower, the long line of your thighs pressed close together beneath the whisper-thin material.
And gods, there really was nothing between you and the silk, not even a scrap of lace hugging the outline of you.
He wasted no time as he placed his glass down on a table, jaw flexing softly as he crossed the garden with quiet precision, his stride purposeful yet unhurried.
The afternoon sun beat down around him, but he felt cool, focused, locked in on you and nothing else. You were still standing with his sister, back partially turned, posture relaxed but too perfect to be unintentional. Helaena was still mid-thought, likely describing some dream or curious insect she’d found near the hedge.
You were nodding, listening with that soft expression that made people feel like the only one in the room. But Aemond knew better. That wasn’t real focus — not when you were glancing toward him every few moments from the corner of your eye, barely tilting your chin, barely shifting your weight, just waiting.
He didn’t stop when he reached you. Didn’t offer a polite smile. Just brushed one hand lightly along the small of your back and leaned in close, low enough that only you could hear.
“I know what you’re doing,” he murmured, his voice rough, breath warm against the shell of your ear.
You froze for the smallest fraction of a second.
Anyone else might’ve missed it — but he didn’t, the slight pause, the way your breath caught just barely. The way your fingers flexed by your sides. Then, just as quickly, you recovered—offering Helaena a small, practised smile, nodding gently to whatever she’d just said, even as Aemond’s presence curved around you like a second skin.
He let the silence stretch between the three of you a moment longer before speaking again, this time to his sister.
“Helaena,” he said smoothly, stepping just a little closer, “Would you excuse us for a moment?”
Helaena blinked up at him, always dreamlike, never quite anchored to the present. “Of course,” she said without question, her attention already drifting elsewhere, perhaps to the butterflies gathering near the stone fountain or a shadow falling across a petal in the wrong direction.
She wandered off without further comment.
You didn’t move.
Now it was just the two of them.
You turned to face him, finally, and your expression was soft. No smile, not at first; just calm, steady, like you’d been waiting. There was no defiance in your eyes. No games. Only warmth, and maybe a little shyness. Maybe a little more.
His gaze moved over you, the way the neckline of your dress skimmed the tops of your breasts, the way the silk followed the line of your body with every breath. The way the light passed through it in places towards the end of the skirt.
“I should be angry,” he said quietly, his voice lower now, more serious. “Or at least annoyed.”
You looked up at him, still calm. “Are you?”
He hesitated. Then, after a pause, allowed himself the truth.
“No.” Your lips curved at that, just slightly, it wasn’t a smirk, nor was it teasing. Just soft, a delicate move of your lips.
As if you knew he was trying very hard to keep himself still.
“I wasn’t trying to start anything,” you said. “It’s just too hot out here, and it's more comfortable this way.”
“I know,” He sighed, that was the maddening part.
There was nothing calculated in your choice. Not a trap. Not a test. Just instinct. And yet it left him feeling like a match held too close to a flame.
He watched you for a moment longer, taking in the way your skin glowed faintly with the heat of the sun, and the breeze fluttered your dress just enough to remind him why he was here.
He reached for your hand, his touch gentle but firm, fingers curling around yours with a soft tug to come with him. You let him like always take it without hesitation, your body falling into step beside him as if the two of you had done this a thousand times before. But this time felt different, this time, he didn’t bother with subtlety.
He didn’t speak as you moved through the garden together.
The afternoon was warm and close, the sunlight broken into patterns by the dense latticework of vines and trellises the further went down his mother’s garden. Petals falling from overgrown blooms to gather along the gravel like quiet confetti.
You passed the manicured hedges that had thousands spent on them, passed by the ornate dragon head fountain his grandfather had insisted on decades ago, and finally, further still, down to where the air grew quieter and the garden became more unruly.
At the far end of the estate, where the formal landscaping gave way to something looser, greener, lived the greenhouse; an enormous, stone structure that was left untouched, half-shrouded by climbing ivy. His mother adored the look of it as it was, and he knew spent her mornings there, thinking and pretending the rest of the house didn’t exist.
The air here smelled of earth and green things, of the memory of rain, even though it hadn’t stormed in days. Aemond led you to the back of the greenhouse, surrounded by hedges and completely covered, where there lay old stone tables that probably once got used for gatherings, but now left untouched in favour of everything towards the front of the garden.
And he couldn’t help but find himself instantly pressing you against the nearest stone table.
The sun, however, showed no such restraint.
It was just as merciless down here — if not more so.
The bottom of the garden trapped the heat like a basin, and you could feel pressing in on you the longer you stayed where you were. The familiar bite of the sun nipped at the tops of your shoulders, even through the silk of your sundress, all while sweat began to bead along your hairline, dampening the fine strands at the nape of your neck. The air was thick, steeped in the scent of grass, flowers, and just sheer heat.
While Aemond dragged you down here, you couldn't help but look over your shoulder, just subtle enough to confirm no one was watching, no one had followed.
But even if they had, it would have been difficult to spot anything beyond the foliage of colour and growth. His mother had planted this place like a secret, and now you were tucked in it like one.
And you were glad for it because Aemond had turned into a man possessed.
His usual control had evaporated the moment you’d slipped away with him, holding himself off just until he got out of sight of everyone else.
Now his hands gripped your waist with a quiet urgency, fingers flexing on you like he was trying to memorise the shape of you with each pull. He really wasted no time as he pressed you into the edge of the table, his mind taken over with the kind of surety that made your breath catch, his lips finding the soft spot just beneath your ear, his touch trailing like fire over your dress and down to your thighs.
His hands weren’t still, they couldn’t be.
They skimmed your sides in slow, desperate passes, fingers brushing the fabric of your dress, then slipping lower to the backs of your thighs. Digits sinking into the silk of your dress and flesh, you felt the strength coiled beneath his skin as he gripped you, the subtle shift of his body as he gathered you into his arms. With a smooth pull, he lifted you effortlessly onto the stone table, your back arching slightly at the sudden contrast between your heated skin and the rough stone beneath.
You clung to his shoulders, half for balance and half because you couldn’t bear to let him go, your fingers curling desperately into the linen fabric of his shirt. Your legs parted instinctively as he pushed between them. Your world was narrowed to just him, his breath against your neck, the heat of his palms as they roamed your body with reverence and hunger in equal measure.
“Aemond…” You giggled softly, head tilting back as his lips feasted on your skin with wet kisses, “Baby, people are going to realise we’re missing…”
It was a soft familiar grunt he gave as his lips left your neck and instead silenced you with a kiss — breathless, tasting the drink he had earlier and just pure want.
“Don’t fucking care.” He grunted again between kisses, his hand tugging at the material of your sundress. “You’re the one that decided to go fucking commando for a family get-together.”
His lips moved over yours hungrily, one hand threading into your hair to tug at the warm strand, the other pressing firm against your lower back to keep you close. A shiver rolling down your spine as his fingers brushed the skin exposed by your dress.
Every part of him was alive with tension, his jaw tight, breath shallow, touch urgent as if he couldn’t decide whether he wanted to worship you or devour you right on the table. You could feel the hammer of his heart where your bodies pressed together, wild beneath layers of linen.
His hand fisted in the hem of your sundress, dragging it higher with rough impatience, the delicate fabric bunching at your hips as he pressed forward with each kiss. The backs of your thighs met the warm stone again, but it was short-lived as your legs came up around his hips to keep him from tipping you back onto the table completely.
You gasped into his mouth when his fingers sunk into your thighs pulling them higher on his hips; fingers firm, exploratory, like he needed to map every inch of you again, despite knowing it by heart. He pulled back from the kiss just enough to look at you, and gods — his eye was dark, blown wide with desire, the faintest flush colouring his pale cheeks from you and the sun. His hair, silvery and soft, had fallen into his face from his bun, strands catching in the corners of his lips before you reached up and brushed them back with trembling fingers.
“Gods, you test my fucking patience sometimes…” He murmured, hand skimming up your thigh to tug you as close as possible, your arms coming up around his neck. “No panties, really?” He asked again.
“I told you, it’s too hot…” You smiled faintly, your lips meeting the corner of his mouth as his head angled to you, his face furrowed with lust and annoyance. “Plus, you wouldn’t have even noticed if you weren’t staring at me so hard.”
“Can you blame me?” He hummed faintly, fingers skimming up the inside of your thigh, gripping onto the softness there, “You’re the only thing interesting to look at here, walking around in your pretty dress.”
His lips finally met your neck again — this time slow, unhurried. His mouth moved lower, to your shoulder, brushing against the thin strap of your dress, biting ever so softly at the skin there. His hand at your waist slipped beneath the fabric, fingers finding the bare skin of your lower back. His thumb dragged across it, slowly, like he was relearning it all by touch.
His slow descent down was like a man going to pray, fingers gripping skin, lips knocking loose straps, breath meeting the tops of your breasts. It was sheer worship from Aemond the lower and lower he sunk into the ground beneath him, your body sat like his personal goddess on the stone table as he did.
You felt like something sacred in his arms.
You exhaled softly the lower he got, fingers curling in the fabric of his shirt as your head tilted back just enough to let him continue.
While the sun had warmed your skin, his mouth made it feel hotter.
Everything else around you, the garden, the house, the soft rustle of trees. It blurred out behind the closeness of his breath. You ate it up, leaning into it without resistance, your palms moving and bracing behind you, chin tilted down to watch him. He looked at you like you had no idea how divine you looked there and it nearly undid him.
Aemond’s fingers dug into your thighs with a bruising grip as he completely dropped to his knees in front of you, it was like he physically couldn’t bear another second without having you. He didn’t care that gravel bit into him — sharp against his knees, probably tearing at the fabric of his linen trousers.
But he didn’t seem to feel it, and if he did he didn’t care.
He reached for your knees first, thumbs stroking the inside of them slowly before he slid his hands up your legs, insistent. His eyes feasted on the exposed skin as the silk bunched in the cradle of your hips, exposing more of your thighs to the warm air, Aemond’s attention never wavering.
And gods, the sight of him — there, between your legs, silver hair falling loose around his face, his hands gripping your thighs — stole the breath from your lungs.
He didn’t speak.
All that mattered at that moment to him was you, your body laid out before him on the table, flushed and breathless in the shadow of the greenhouse.
Your eyes widened as the motion hit you all at once, his urgency, his hunger, and your breath caught somewhere between your ribs as you leaned further back instinctively. Your palms flatten more against the warm stone table to steady yourself, your bottom half tilting to meet him without thought.
The sun beat down through the branches above, casting a shadow on the two of you, but it was the heat between your legs that had you reeling. The warm air licked against your exposed skin, brushing over your inner thighs, and your core — which was already damp with anticipation, already aching for him.
The small breeze there felt absolutely obscene in how intimate it was, catching the slickness gathered there, making you painfully aware of just how ready you were.
It was no secret that Aemond loved sinking between your thighs, feeling your legs bent around his broad shoulders, thighs parting as he pulled you closer, anchoring you to him with a desperation that made your core flutter.
The stone bit into your skin; but it was forgotten the moment his hands shoved the rest of your dress out the way of your mound — hands rough, impatient — in one swift motion.
Aemond didn’t pause, didn’t breathe.
His mouth was on you almost instantly, lips dragging along the inside of your thigh in frantic, open-mouthed kisses, warming up the already hot skin there even further. It was circling desperate the way his breathing came in sharp bursts out his nose, like he was barely holding himself together while also breathing you in.
He wasted no time as his arms hooked around your legs, hoisting them over his shoulders with ease, locking you in place as he pressed closer. So close you could feel the need in him, the hunger, the desperation to taste you, to lose himself in your cunt.
He was starving.
“Baby,” One of your hands flew down to his head, fingers sinking into his soft hair to try and stop him, “I’m all sweaty, are you sure you don’t want to wait—”
“I really…,” He glanced up at you as he pulled your legs tighter around his shoulders, lips following keenly and shifting your hips to the edge of the table, closer and closer to the wetness gathering on your inner thighs, “…do not give a shit”
“Aemond…” You giggled softly, your face heating up as you tried to nudge his head away from your cunt, “Are you sure…”
He only tutted before he dove in properly, his eye closing slightly as his tongue slid out to lick a strip up your core, fingers digging further into your thighs. As always, it was instant the way he drew sounds from you, your lips parting with an airy moan, and fingers twitching in his hair as he started to lick you up. Aemond was always fond of going down on you, it wasn’t uncommon for him to wake up for work slightly earlier than needed and sink under your shared covers to bury his head in between your thighs, and it seemed like being hidden at the bottom of his family’s estate was no different.
His tongue glided between your folds with the eagerness of someone who was destined to spend the rest of his life drinking you up, fingers grasping at your thigh as his tongue circled and sucked at your clit. His mouth opened wider to accommodate his tongue travelling down to tease at your entrance. Aemond knew how to love you in many ways, but his favourite was with his mouth, wasting no time as he dipped into your entrance and started to thrust his silver tongue in and out of you, curling the appendage with each push in.
Your breathing stuttered in your chest as you shifted on the rough stone under you, hips pushing forward towards his mouth and tongue, small hiccups of pleasure spilling out as your fingers tightened in his hair. You couldn’t help but roll and shift your hips with him, chasing every single flick and movement of his head.
His tongue slipped in and out with ease into your gummy walls, nose nudging your clit while he tasted you. Your throat begged to let any of the noises building in your chest out, your teeth sinking into your lip to muffle each pant, each whine, each moan. Aemond had your toes curling in your sandals at the feeling, your heels digging into his back to draw him even closer, the burning spreading up your abdomen, forcing soft pants out of you.
“Oh gods…” You managed to moan out softly, the sound meshing with the distant call of birds and the breeze as you bloomed under his touch. “Fuck, baby, we’re going to get caught…”
"Mmm," Aemond hummed against you, ignoring your protests and worries as his eye lazily looked up at you. Watching you unfold under his touch with a greedy look in his eye. He was as into this as you, his pupil blown out and his nose glinting with the wetness of being buried in your cunt, ready to drown in you if you’d let him.
Between the heat of the outside and burning in your core, you were a mess on the table, drowning from the inside out as you felt the sweat start to gather more and more. It beaded on your neck and ran down your spine, gathered behind your knees, but you couldn’t bring yourself to push him away. You were as needy as him, as greedy as him, and it was too good to give up, even if you risked getting caught.
It was filthy, but the idea of that alone has your core fluttering even more around his tongue.
Aemond had found that rhythm that had you writhing, shifting, begging, and wishing you could moan freely into the air. Everything sparked the muscles in your legs to twitch in Aemond’s hold, thighs squeezing his head slightly as you were pushed closer and closer to your peak. It was equal measures of utterly delicious as it was sheer depravity.
The pressure in your stomach was building in a steady upsurge, budding and blooming like the flowers around you and curling up your abdomen like roots taking hold. It was getting harder and harder to keep every single noise in, and that feeling only grew as one of his hands slipped down from your hips, fingers creeping along your thigh with purpose. You knew what he was doing, but it still had you whining between your teeth all the same.
As his tongue slipped out your walls, he hummed like was eating his favourite meal, that look in his eye getting stronger as he decided to swipe back up to your clit, sucking and nipping in a way that had your hand flying finally to your mouth. While one of your hands tugged at his strands urgently, the other flew to cover your lips, teeth sinking into the skin there to finally moan out into your palm.
You knew it was coming before you could even say anything, and he had no shame as he teased your entrance with the tip of a finger. His touch was light and teasing, as he prodded at the puffy folds with gentle pressure.
“Do you want one, or two, my love?" he murmured against you, his bottom lip slightly pulled back on your clit as he asked.
Your eyes briefly looked up to the sky at that, like you were begging for the gods to grant you mercy from the demon buried face first in your cunt, but all you could do what take whatever he was giving you on the chin. A small whine bubbling in your throat as you looked back down at him. Your palm left your lips briefly to give him a response.
“Two…” You couldn’t help yourself, between his lips kissing softly at your clit and his fingers brushing softly at your core, you just couldn’t help yourself.
He chuckled slightly at you, amused by your insistence despite the situation. The sound vibrated against you, a shiver rolling up your slick spine at the feeling.
"Greedy girl," He murmured with a nip to your bud, his tone low and filled with promise.
With that, his fingers began to slowly push into you, gently but persistently, as he sunk each bump in, his movements slow like he wanted you to feel every single ridge. You could tell he wanted to make you feel every touch and sensation fully. "Is that what you needed, love?"
Your lips parted with a choked breath; brows furrowed with pleasure as he curled his deft fingers in your sweet cunt, this mouth working in tandem to tug you closer and closer to that sweet abyss waiting at the end.
The hand that had been covering your mouth was forgotten, grasping onto your knee instead. Your nails sank into the sun-reddened skin as you mewled and whined softly under his caress. The hand that was tangled in his strands moved back behind you, bracing you again, to help shift your hips to the very edge of the table; uncaring that your lower spine was screaming.
You were tight around his fingers, walls clenching and relaxing the closer and closer you got to your end, it was sweet blissful torture rolled into one. Aemond didn’t stop, he didn’t hesitate, the sound of your mewls egging him on and on, curling his fingers to brush that spot inside of you as he lapped and lapped like a man completely parched of water.
The two of you were out in the open but you felt like you were in a pressure chamber the way your skin slicked and you shook on the table. Your lungs desperate for air and your body begging for release. The blooming heat from before had transformed into a blistering sun in your stomach, one that was fraying your nerves and burning at your core with a power that only Aemond could give.
The world seemed to narrow down to the sensation of him; his hands, his weight, the way his breath mingled with yours. Each movement, each press of his fingers, stoked the fire deeper, a slow and relentless burning that threatened to unravel you entirely.
It was sudden the way you broke.
You came with a broken, desperate whine, your head thrown back in helpless surrender for him. Every muscle tightening and trembling as waves of it crashed through you. Your breath hitched, ragged and shallow, as the world tilted and blurred for a few seconds.
The moment stretched into silence as his mouth started to slow down, and you clung to that feeling of lingering warmth, shivering with exhaustion and the drawn-out heat, your heartbeat pounding in your ears like a quiet, steady drum.
Aemond pulled away from your core with a look in his eye, the lower half of his face soaked with your slick as he looked up at you. He often looked at you like you were magic, some kind of personal godness for him to worship, but now he looked at you like he was ready to give his soul to see you. You were practically a puddle on the table, face flushed beyond measure, hair curling at your temples from the sweat, nipples pebbled and pressing against the silk of your sundress. He had undone you in every way possible, and the worst part of all?
He wasn’t done.
“Baby…” You panted softly watching as your legs slipped off his shoulders, his body rising with a hum as his free hand moved to wipe some of your wetness that was coating his face, sucking his fingers off like it was no issue.
“Look at you,” he said softly, more thought than a compliment like he couldn’t quite believe what he’d made of you.
You opened your mouth to speak, but all you could manage was a shaky exhale, fingers gripping the edge of the table as you tried to sit fully up again. Your eyes tired as you found yourself looking him over, you could see just how much the experience had affected him as well. If the bump in the front of his linen pants was anything to go back. His arousal clear against the dark fabric, his length most likely aching.
He leaned in with a twinge of his lips, close enough that your noses brushed, his lips barely touching yours. “You can’t even sit up straight.”
You tried to glare at him, you really did, but your eyes fluttered shut instead. “I hate you sometimes.”
That earned the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth; his version of a smile. But it didn’t last, the heat in his expression was still there, you knew that look well and you knew exactly what it meant.
He pulled back slightly, hand dropping to your arm.
“Up,” he said quietly. “Come here.”
You didn’t hesitate, you never did, as you reached for his shoulders and let him help you stand, legs wobbling slightly under you. Your hands gripped him more for balance than anything else. The stone table scraped softly against your skin as your hips shifted up and off it.
The silk of your dress dropped back down as you stood, back to brushing your ankles as his hands met the small of your back, fingers brushing the skin.
“Turn around,” Aemond murmured against your temple, voice low and firm, his hand trailing down your back to start tugging you. “And lean over.”
There was no room for teasing in his tone, no joking smirk. Just that same intensity that came with him, he wasn’t asking because he wanted to for fun, he was asking because he needed to.
Like putty in his hands, you turned without a word, still catching your breath from your orgasm, your hair sticking to the nape of your neck. And like he requested you bent forward just slightly, placing your hands on the table, feeling the roughness of the old stone against your fingertips again.
The breeze shifted around you with a noise from the bushes, cooling the skin of your back, fluttering the hem of your dress slightly like a kiss from the earth. Aemond stepped in behind you again, close enough for you to feel the heat radiating from his body, even without the press of his chest.
But you could hear the breath leave him when he looked down.
One hand smoothed over your hip, fingers curling as he pulled the fabric of your dress further up until it gathered at your waist completely again. His other hand settled on your stomach, thumb pressing into the soft flesh there, holding you still as he leaned in, mouth near your ear.
“Still too hot for panties?” He murmured, voice quieter now, edged with the faintest bit of a smirk in his voice. Still turning over this whole thing in his mind.
You managed the barest smile. “You’re never going to let this go, are you?”
That earned another quiet sound from him; something between a breath and a huff, not angry. Just hungry, and patient.
His grip on your stomach tightened slightly, grounding you in place, and his other hand drifted down between your thighs again, arms catching the fabric of your dress so it didn’t slip. His touch was deliberate, slow, like he had no intention of rushing now that he had you exactly where he wanted you.
You inhaled sharply at the contact, your hands bracing against the table as your head dipped forward, jaw going slack as he stroked at your sensitive folds again. Making sure you were still ready for him.
Aemond’s lips grazed the curve of your neck, then your shoulder, breath hot against your skin.
“Gods,” he murmured, almost more to himself than to you. “You’re still shaking.”
You were, you could feel it in the way your legs trembled, in the way your body leaned into the table, pressing your hips against the stone to ground you. It was clear in the way your breaths came in short, shallow bursts, no matter how hard you tried to steady them. He wasn’t wasting time as his hand slid a little lower down between your thighs. Cupping you properly now, and all you could do was bite your lip as your hips jerked forward, instinctive and helpless under his touch.
“Still feeling greedy,” he asked after a beat, he was toying with you now.
You wanted to answer, gods you tried to, but all that came out was a sound; something soft and broken, caught between a breath and a whimper. Aemond hummed faintly behind you, clearly pleased that he’d gotten you back for the lack of underwear and riled you up to this extent. His fingers slid slowly through your slick again teasingly before retreating; drawing a quiet noise from your throat at the loss.
Then his hand on your stomach moved, dragging it slowly over your torso, up your waist, slipping beneath the bunched fabric of your dress to find your bare chest. Palm warm over the curve of your breast. He didn’t care that your skin was clammy and covered in sweat, only that your nipples were pebbled against the fabric, budding in the soft blue silk from the arousal. His hand squeezing softly at your breast while his lips met the nape of your neck, kissing the red skin, sucking softly to leave behind he was even there.
His fingers closed around the weight of your breast, thumb brushing slowly over the hardened nipples beneath the silk before he gave a soft, deliberate squeeze — just enough to make you arch slightly into his touch, mouth falling open in a soundless gasp. Being behind you wasn’t always his favourite way to take you, but being out in the open, with his warmth behind while were forced to look out, and the fear of getting caught. It was erotic, it was sinful, it was something you never knew you needed.
You could feel his fraying restraint, his hand still kneading softly at your chest, his mouth dragging wet heat across your shoulder, the weight of him behind you, cock still pressed against your rear unmoving.
Holding himself there, letting you feel everything before he ever gave you more.
You felt the shift before you heard it; the slight change in the way his body moved behind you, Aemond’s hand left your waist only briefly, and then you heard it — soft, deliberate — the quiet clink of his belt buckle coming undone and his zip being pulled.
Your breath caught at that; he wasn’t teasing anymore.
The tension between you had changed in an instant, it felt thicker now, every action now weighted with more intention. He wasn’t just begging to eat you out on a table outside, you felt him behind you, the heat of him pressed along your back, his hand efficient but unhurried as he unfastened his trousers.
You didn’t dare look back and you didn’t have to, the air shifted with him and it was like foliage around you knew that, the breeze dipping for a moment. His presence was heavier the closer he pressed. One of his hands returned to your hip, moving from your breast and holding you in place with steady pressure, the other returning brushing down the curve of your lower back, then pausing at your rear.
You could hear his breath now, low and deep.
But barely.
You stayed where you were, bent over the table, hands flat against the warm stone, dress bunched high around your hips. Your chest rose and fell steadily, despite the flutter in your ribs, despite the way your knees threatened to give at the feel of his length barely brushing you.
Aemond’s palm slid across your rear squeezing softly, silently reassuring you. And you let out a soft breath as you felt him lean in, his chest pressed to your back, his breath skating along the nape of your neck.
“Still with me?” He murmured.
You nodded, just once, voice trapped in your throat.
“Good,” he said, barely a whisper now, lips ghosting the shell of your ear, a silent kiss.
Time felt endless his hand curled back around your hip, his other adjusting himself behind you, and you felt it — his cock brushing against the inside of your thigh, hot and heavy, leaking against your skin. The tip soft and damp with pre-come, the movement smearing it against your leg.
A quiet gasp left your lips, but you silenced yourself instantly as you bit down on the inside of your cheek, trying to brace for what you knew was coming. But even then, the anticipation was unbearable.
He was barely touching you, you felt his hand shift to guide himself, the tip brushing your folds in a slow, careful line, not pushing in, just feeling, poking around your puffy core with intent — teasing you just a bit more before he caved and sunk himself in.
The move made your spine curl in a reflex you couldn’t control, and your teeth sunk deeper into your cheek at the sound that threatened to spill out. Begging to be released as he passed over your clit with just enough pressure to make your knees weaken.
You tried to shift back further, hips moving on instinct, but his hand tightened on your hip in warning.
“Ah ah…” he tutted in your ear, soft but commanding, “Patience.”
You exhaled sharply at that, biting back a frustrated whine that bubbled in your throat again. Your hands gripping the stone table harder, nails scraping the stone, palms damp and unsteady against the rough surface, your arms trembling just slightly from holding still. But still, you stayed right where you were, breathing shallow, and he finally began to press into you.
Every inch of him dragged a sound from your throat you couldn’t hold back, your head dipping forward as your body adjusted around the stretch with a whine. The first inch stretched you slow and steady, heat flaring sharply between your hips as your breath caught, throat clenching around the soft, broken noise that escaped you.
Your fiancé was thick, that much you always knew, but from behind the angle was deeper — impossibly so. You felt every ridge, every shift of muscle, the slow give of your body as it opened around him. The pressure built and built with every inch he sank in, a slow, insistent push that filled you to the brim, making your legs shake, your belly coil tight with heat that was different from before.
You whined softly at the intensity of it all, head dropping forward, strands of your hair clinging to your damp skin. Aemond wasn’t going to stop until he was buried in you completely.
He groaned low in his throat, the sound barely more than a grumble, quiet and hoarse, and finally his hips met your backside with a final, grounding press. You could feel him there, rooted deep, his cock pulsing faintly in your walls as they clenched around him.
He didn’t pull back instantly; he didn’t even move, he just held you, flush against him.
“Fuck,” He whispered, voice rough and thick with restraint as his head lingered beside yours, breath warm as he huffed out.
And gods, you couldn’t even speak.
Your jaw hung open with parted lips, but all that came out were shallow, panting breaths.
Your lungs struggling to pull enough air in to keep you sane. Your eyes fluttered open slowly, your skin prickling as your gaze dropped to the table beneath you. The stone was warm and rough under your hands, scraped faintly beneath your fingertips, grounding you with its texture as you tried to stay present in the moment.
Your vision was hazy at the edges, but you forced yourself to cast your gaze up and look. Trying to focus on the garden surrounding you. You focused on the details: the ivy creeping up the edge of the greenhouse wall in the distance, the leaves stirring slightly in the breeze, the birds that would occasionally caw from the trees, and the heat of summer pressing in around you.
This part of the garden was hidden—tucked far behind the hedges and down a sloping path few people bothered to follow. You knew that. Aemond knew that. And still, the awareness of being exposed in the open air, with your dress bunched around your waist, your fiancé buried in your guts and sweat slipping slowly down your spine, made the entire thing feel sharper.
More dangerous, more real, and fuck it was a turn-on.
You could feel him still catching his breath behind you, his chest expanding with every inhale, the tension radiating off his body as he held still. So still it made you ache, for movement, for release.
“Baby, please.” You gasped softly, hips undulating, wiggling in an attempt to get him to move. You rolled back against him just slightly, enough for friction.
The effect was immediate.
His grip on your hips tightened, his fingertips digging in harder around your plush hips, the hold coming with an edge of warning that sent another shiver down your spine. He drew in a sharp breath through his nose.
“Careful,” he murmured, voice low and strained. The word rasped against your skin, right beside your ear, a whisper pressed with heat.
You whimpered, the sound soft and aching, you were trembling again, legs unsteady, body thrumming with need.
Aemond stayed there for another breath.
Then, finally, he shifted, it wasn’t a full thrust, not yet.
But it was enough to make you gasp as he pulled back a fraction of an inch, just enough for you to feel the drag, the ridges of his length, before sliding back in just as slowly, hips pressing flush to yours once more.
This time, you did moan, quiet and shaky and pathetically undone.
“Gods,” Aemond muttered behind you, almost to himself. “You feel—fuck, you feel good.”
Then he did it again, fingers clenching on your hips at another slow pull, hips drawing back but he gave torturously measured push, and that was the rhythm he set. For being out in the open he was unhurried, deep, and devastatingly intentional.
And you could do nothing but take it, mouth panting, desperate.
His pace remained devastatingly slow, like he had all the time in the world to pull you apart piece by piece, fuck you like you were in the privacy of your own home.
Each stroke was deep and measured, dragging along every quivering inch inside you, igniting fresh heat with every push. The slap of his hips meeting yours echoed faintly in the still air, a notion that felt entirely forbidden to begin with.
Your knuckles tightened against the edge of the stone table as your hands fixed themselves to take his thrusts, something to keep you grounded while he moved. It was pathetic but you couldn’t even look down anymore; your vision was too glassy, heavy-lidded, barely able to focus on anything beyond the overwhelming feel of him. It left your eyes fluttering and unfocused on the distant. Focused only on the way your body received him so greedily, so helplessly, your breath catching with each press of his hips, every grunt he made behind you.
His mouth dragged open along the curve of your shoulder, tongue tasting the sheen of sweat there before he found the bead that had begun to slide down from your hairline to the slope of your spine. He caught it with his lips, licking it away before it could even fall. That’s where his teeth followed, nipping just beneath it, leaving a sign he was even there.
You whimpered at that, sharp and helpless, and your head tipped forward again, your mouth falling open as your legs trembled beneath you. Aemond grunted against your skin, one hand releasing your hip just long enough to press flat against your stomach, drawing you back into him, flush and locked.
“Fucking perfect,” he rasped dragging his nose up your neck to speak against your ear, voice harsh, broken, possessed. “So sweet like this, for me…”
But you could feel everything in technicolour.
In the way his cock throbbed inside you with every pulse of your walls, in the trembling of his breath, in the way his hand shook slightly against your belly from the sheer force of keeping himself together. Focused on not finishing too soon, on giving you more.
He fucked you like he needed it to survive; like you were the only thing keeping him tethered to the earth, his salvation and his sin wrapped into one soft, trembling body bent over stone beneath the sun. His little beauty, ripe for the taking, as fresh as the flowers around them.
And then, just as he shifted slightly, looking changing his angle enough to make your body jolt with pleasure, enough to pull a low, broken moan from deep in your throat — you heard it.
Footsteps.
Voices.
Just faint, somewhere nearby, the sound softened by grass.
The world seemed to still.
Aemond froze mid-thrust, his hands going rigid on your body as the sounds grew clearer; a muffled conversation, slow and aimless, the kind of idle garden stroll that meant nothing except the risk of everything.
Your heart froze, panic slicing through the haze of pleasure like a lightning strike.
Your body stiffened instinctively, suddenly hyper-aware of your position; of you bent over the table, your dress bunched obscenely around your waist, Aemond still buried inside you, cock pulsing and warm and unmistakable.
You didn’t move, couldn’t, you felt like an animal in headlights.
Your breath hitched in your throat as the voices came closer; one male, one female.
Familiar in cadence, it was two of Aemond’s family members; Jace and Baela. Baela was laughing lightly, a casual remark about the estate, something utterly mundane. But you barely processed the words, your heartbeat swimming in your ears, trying to focus on the direction they were coming from.
It was hard to tell but it seemed like it was just beyond the hedgerow, on the other path that led down to the lake, the one that was no more than ten or twelve steps from where you stood.
Aemond didn’t speak, he didn’t even breathe, from what you could feel of him.
His entire body was taut behind you, jaw tight, arm still curled protectively around your waist, hand still pressed to your stomach. His chest was pressed flat to your back now, shielding you as best he could, and you could feel his head lower near your shoulder, his breath brushing hot and fast against your skin.
They passed slowly, too slowly for your poor heart, their footsteps crunching faintly over gravel, voices still low but close enough to reach through the thick green of the hedge like a warning. You couldn’t see them, not fully, but you could hear everything; from the rustle of their clothing, to the occasional murmur of pleasantries, and then…
“Did you hear something?” Jace asked.
A pause that had you nearly stop breathing.
“I doubt it,” Baela replied casually. “Probably just birds again, it’s far too hot for anyone to be out here this long.”
At that, they kept walking, the voices growing softer and the crunch of their steps began to fade.
You didn’t move a single inch, not until the last of the sound slipped back into silence.
Only then did Aemond draw in a breath behind you.
It shuddered through his chest like a dam finally breaking, and you could feel the tension leave him in the way his grip shifted, fingers loosening on your skin. His forehead dropped briefly, pressed to your shoulder, his body still draped over yours like a shield, still pressed deep inside you.
You exhaled a laugh that was barely audible, thin and slightly hysterical with leftover adrenaline as you panted from fear and pleasure.
“Gods, we could’ve been caught,” you whispered, barely able to speak.
Aemond didn’t answer right away, his breath still uneven, and then kissed the slope of your neck, slowly, his lips dragging gently over sweat-damp skin.
“They wouldn’t have gotten far,” He murmured darkly, a quiet edge to his voice that sent a new shiver down your spine. “I wouldn’t let them see you like this.”
Your body clenched around him involuntarily at the sound of that, and he groaned softly, hips rocking once out of reflex. He wasted no time as he pulled back slightly, just enough to move again, and this time there was something new in the way he moved, less restraint, more need.
A lingering tension from what had almost been lost.
He didn’t even blink before he thrust into you again, it was deeper now, more purposeful. Your knees twitched slightly, a gasp tearing from your throat as you shifted forward with the movement, hips pressing back to the edge of the table.
“Still want me to stop?” he whispered, voice ragged and close to your ear.
You shook your head silently, unable to speak, the only sound from you a whimper as he began to build that rhythm again — unforgiving, but careful.
A man who knew your body and exactly what it could take.
Hearing Aemond’s grunts in your ear only pushed you further, the arousal, the feeling warming your guy with each movement. Much like the summer sun, you felt him everywhere, from his breath that hit the side of your neck to the slamming of his hips against your plump flesh as he drove his cock into you relentlessly.
His hips met yours with a force that bordered on desperation, the slap of skin a steady rhythm echoing through the thick quiet of the secluded space. Every motion sent shockwaves through your body; jolting you against the table, his body pressing into your spine, into your lungs where the air caught and stuttered.
You were coming undone.
Not just from the friction of his length, or the depth, or the heat of the afternoon pressing down on both of you; but from him. From the way he moved like he needed you, like this something carved out of devotion and frustration and longing.
Your moans had softened into breathless, broken gasps, caught between whimpers and whispered fragments of his name.
And he drank it in, all of it.
The sounds, the shuddering in your legs, the way your warm cunt welcomed him again and again without hesitation, your sweet walls fluttering around his cock, squeezing him in the way that only you could.
Aemond lips brushed the shell of your ear again, his voice low and fraying at the edges. “You take me so well.… always so good for me.”
Your fingers clutched the stone again, grounding yourself against the swell of pleasure building, your head dropping forward as your body trembled around him, helpless under the rhythm he set—deep, steady, ruinous.
Aemond’s hips rolled with increasing urgency, the slow burn of time passed without touch, without space to breathe, and now that he had you here; hidden and pressed close, surrounded by sun-warmed stone and heady blooms.
The garden blurred around you the closer you got to that edge.
The sound of your own breath, ragged and uneven in your throat. The weight of his body against yours. The way your limbs trembled, your muscles tightening with every thrust, coiling you closer and closer to that breaking point.
Aemond’s hand at your stomach flexed again, his grip no longer as controlled as before, his composure slipping just beneath the surface.
You knew he felt it too, that pull to the end.
Your back arched slightly, your hips rising to meet his thrusts even more, the tension rising through you like a tidal wave threatening to crest. And behind you, Aemond groaned, quiet and hoarse and wrecked. His mouth finding your shoulder again, his breath hot where it brushed across your damp skin.
“I’ve got you,” He whispered, more breath than sound. “Just let go for me, sweetheart.”
The words hit you harder than the motion of his thrusts; more than the rhythm of them or the friction. You let them carry you, sinking into your hazy mind until your body began to unravel, your breath caught in your throat and your fingers curled against the stone tight.
It could have been seconds or years, it made no difference to you, as you came quietly.
There were no sharp cries into the space, no frantic desperation clawing at your throat, just a trembling surrender to the pleasure. A slow-flooding warmth through your limbs, one that tightened your insides, and had your head dropping forward as your body shook under his hands.
You felt yourself tighten around him, pulling him deeper, and it was all it took to get him there too.
Aemond buried himself one last time and held.
“Fuck.” He grunted as he pressed in deep, the sound he made low and quiet, rough against your shoulder, his grip tightening as he followed you over the edge.
For a moment, he went completely still, breath catching, chest rising sharply against your back; then slowly, slowly, he began to relax, his forehead pressing gently to the space between your shoulder blades.
You stayed like that for a while.
Neither of you speaking. Neither of you moving.
Just two silhouettes in a patch of garden no one ever visited, birds humming nearby, and the sharp scent of grass warmed by the sun. The stone beneath your palms was rough, and grounding, and his skin against yours was warm, familiar.
Eventually, he pulled back just enough to ease the weight off you, his cock sliding out of you with a gentle whine out your lips, and a breath at the feeling of his seed slipping down your thigh. He caught it with his fingers, pressing them into you briefly to try and clean you up without anything on hand, but you knew you’d be waddling back to the main house with shame covering your face and your skin.
His hands were careful, steadying, as he moved to smooth out your dress. Letting the silk drop down gently like a whisper on your skin. He pressed a soft kiss to the base of your neck, then to your shoulder, and finally leaned his cheek there for a brief moment, letting his breathing even out.
“You alright?” he asked softly, his voice hoarse but warm.
You nodded without looking back, your voice barely above a whisper. “Yeah… better than alright.”
A faint chuckle escaped him, small and genuine, and he helped you turn around slowly. Holding your waist while you found your footing again, your legs wobbled slightly, but he steadied you. Pull you close to him. When you met his gaze, his expression had softened: no longer clouded by lust or frustration, but something else.
Something quieter. Fonder.
You reached up your hand, and smoothed his hair away from his damp forehead, brushing your fingers through the strands that had fallen loose from his bun that was barely hanging on.
“Still think no panties is a bad idea?” you murmured, smiling faintly.
Aemond leaned in, brushing his nose along your cheek in a fleeting gesture of affection.
“Probably,” he replied with a slight smirk against your skin. “But I’d be more than happy to do that again if you decided to go commando the rest of the trip.”
You stood there for a moment longer, foreheads nearly touching, the scent of summer between you and the distant chatter of family still lingering faintly somewhere from the top of the garden.
“Is that a promise?” You grinned with a slight chuckle, a teasing glint in your eyes.
“Always.” He huffed, shaking his head as he dipped down to kiss you.
