#glass cuts deepest aemond

[flowerandblood]

Aemond from my Glass Cuts Deepest fanfic with his puppy eyes, looking at Wright when he thought that she didn't see, thinking that indeed, he would prefer to have her attention back, that is: maybe fucking notice me??? I even fucking apologized this stupid bitch for you and for what???? *disaster, whining and swearing inside, just him dying while making stony face*

*do not repost my sweet girls*

[sapphire-writes]

Our Last Summer (modern!HOTD)

part 2 of 10 || series masterlist || previous part || next part

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Reader

summary: Your first full day in King's Landing, and you get the lay of the land at the Kingsroad Country Club.

word count: 3.8k

detailed warning under the cut

warnings: language

dividers by the lovely @firefly-graphics

note: as always, likes, comments, reblogs are greatly appreciated! Let me know what you think, if you'd like to be tagged, etc. 💙

A sharp knock on your door wakes you from the deepest sleep of your life. Baela has a way of knocking, but not knocking. By the second rap of her knuckles, she’s already opening the door and entering the room, clad in a baby blue tennis skirt and a matching top. 

Her silver curls are held away from her face in a high ponytail as she sits on the edge of your bed. 

“Rise and shine, sleeping beauty,” she tells you as you groan, pressing your face back into the softness of your pillow. 

“This is the comfiest bed….I’ve ever slept in….in my whole life,” you tell her, your voice muffled by the pillow.

“That’s because you’ve been sleeping on a twin xl for the past five months,” she says snickering, poking your sides.

You try to roll away from her, burrowing deeper into the soft plush comforter. 

“Whaaaa,” you moan, pushing her hands away.

“Come on, we have things to do,” she tells you.

With a groan, you roll over to face her. 

“Where are we going?” you ask, sitting up and stretching your arms above your head. 

“Kingsroad Country Club,” she tells you, “We’ll grab breakfast there with Rhae.”

She stands up moving to your closet. 

“Bring a bathing suit,” she tells you, “The pool is amazing, we can see if anyone interested has come home for the summer.”

You raise an eyebrow at her as she paws through your clothes. You’d only just started to unpack the previous night, before giving in to the temptation of sleep. You couldn’t stop thinking about Baela’s stupid uncle either, which only made completing your task of unpacking more frustrating. 

“Interesting?” you ask and she wiggles her eyebrows suggestively. 

“A summer fling never hurt anyone,” Baela teases. 

“Okay, let’s do it,” you agree, and she shuts your closet door.

“Meet me downstairs!” she calls, closing the door behind her. 

You quickly get dressed in a simple sundress and after a quick trip across the bay in Baela’s skiff, you dock outside of the Kingsroad Country Club. 

You follow Baela’s lead after you make sure Moondancer is safely roped so she won’t drift back into Blackwater Bay. The country club is just as extravagant as everything else appears to be in King’s Landing. A woman smiles at you as you pass in front of the signup booth for the regatta. Baela leads you past the massive pool and toward the balcony as you arrive; it’s filled with white and blue umbrellas on glass tables, surrounded by white linen chairs. 

The balcony overlooks several tennis courts, with several people engaged in singles and doubles matches. Further out you spot a golf course, acres of green grass as far as you can see.  

“Breakfast here is bomb,” Baela tells you, “Seriously, the best Eggs Benedict I’ve ever had.”

As you sit for breakfast examining the menu, Baela continues to talk about all the fun things she has planned for this summer, while putting in an order of mimosas for the table. Rhaena joins a few moments later, in a heated conversation with Helaena. 

“There’s no rush, right?” Helaena says to Rhaena as they sit.

“It’s a month away, of course, there’s a rush!” Rhaena says, taking a sip of the water provided.

“For what?” Baela asks.

“The auction? The gala?” Rhaena answers, “Please tell me you told Y/N about the gala.”

Baela glances at you sideways and Rhaena rolls her eyes.

“Okay perfect, so Hel and Y/N need outfits,” Rhaena sighs, “The club hosts a gala and an auction each year for the regatta, it's really fun! Families donate artifacts, art, stuff like that and spend a shit ton of money.”

A waiter stops by, delivering mimosas and taking your breakfast orders. 

“It was fun maybe when we were like twelve,” Baela tells her, “It’s a fashion show. A night for our family to pretend they’re perfect.”

“You’re just mad Dad wants us to go together,” Rhaena scolds, frowning.

Baela clenches her jaw, narrowing her eyes at her twin. 

“Exactly,” she answers, to Rhaena’s surprise, “Alicent doesn’t make her kids go, why should I be forced?”

“Oh my Mom forces us alright,” Helaena says smiling, “She was beyond pissed when Aegon and I skipped last year, I thought her head was going to explode. I’m going.”

“Why though?” Baela asks, groaning dramatically and slumping in her seat, “It’s medieval.”

“Because I want to wear a dress and look pretty,” Helaena says grinning, “Come on Bae, you’ll look like such a pretty princess.”

Helaena stretches her hand, poking Baela’s cheek causing you to chuckle. Helaena keeps sing-songing ‘pretty princess’ until Baela swats her hand away. 

“Remember when we all wore those matching dresses? Talk about medieval,” Helaena snorted.

Rhaena spares a laugh then, biting her lip at the memory. 

“Please, Bae?” she asks, “Plus, you have to let Y/N experience it, it’s a magical night.”

Baela glances at you and you shrug nonchalantly.

“I polish up real nice,” you tell her.

“Don’t quote Taylor Swift to me,” she groans, but a smile appears on her lips, “Okay fine.”

Rhaena squeals and claps her hands together.

“So…no to the matching dresses or….?” Helaena asks, answered by a unanimous chorus of no.

A whistle startles you from your conversation as Aegon jogs over to your table, sunglasses dangling off his nose, violet eyes peering over the edge. He arrives just as the waiter returns with your food, distributing your plates. 

“Ladies,” he muses, placing his hands on the back of Helaena’s chair and leaning forward.

“Go away,” Baela tells him, causing him to pout, “You’re ruining my meal.”

“I come bearing gifts,” he says, pulling a joint from where it was hidden in his hair. 

He holds it out between his fingers before Helaena reaches up, snatching it from him and placing it behind her own ear. 

“Thanks,” she tells him, and he hums.

“Happy to be of service,” he says, snatching a triangle of toast from her plate.

“Fucking vulture!” she hisses, swatting him as he hurries away.

“Where’s he off to?” Rhaena muses.

“Probably skulking around the pool looking for an unsuspecting girl with low self-esteem,” Helaena says, rolling her eyes. 

Your eyes follow Aegon who does not head toward the pool but instead down the steps toward the tennis courts. As you see who’s waiting for him you can’t help but roll your eyes. Aemond twirls a racket in his hand, clad in three-quarter-length green tennis shorts accentuating the muscles of his thighs. 

He wears a simple white t-shirt molded to his torso. You assume he’s already played a set, as a man with dark hair leaves the court, patting Aegon on the shoulder as he takes his place. Aemond takes a moment to wipe the sweat from his brow, revealing the v-line that disappears down his shorts. He runs a hand through his silver hair; it's kept shorter on the sides, and a bit longer on the top accentuating his sharp features. 

Aegon says something to his brother, and Aemond meets your gaze. You scowl before looking away, not missing the satisfied smirk that appears on Aemond’s face at your reaction. Your cheeks flush and you take a sip of your mimosa trying to hide your annoyance. 

“What is his problem?” you mumble, as Baela sips her mimosa.

“Who?” Rhaena asks, following your gaze, “Oh-”

“You got off on the wrong foot, that’s all,” Helaena tells you, “But he’ll warm up. Aemond takes a while to defrost.”

“A while? Try years,” Baela says chuckling, “Seriously you’re good, Y/N. Don’t even worry about it.”

You chew on your lower lip, anxiety swirling in your stomach. 

“I feel like I said something wrong last night,” you tell them, “I pissed him off somehow.”

The cousins exchange glances before Rhaena sighs, accepting that she’ll be the person to spill the dirty details. You raise your eyebrows at her, expectantly.

“So your sailor comment, about Luke?” Rhaena says, jogging your memory.

You nod, wordlessly encouraging her to continue.

“Luke and Aemond have history,” she begins, somewhat beating around the bush, “It’s kind of complicated-”

“It’s not,” Baela interrupts, “Look, our family is a soap opera, right? Well for the longest time, they tried to make us all get along, force us to do like ‘family bonding activities’ and it came back to bite them in the ass.”

Tension hangs in the air as she speaks, and you sense they haven’t told you an essential piece of information. 

“I’m not following,” you tell them.

The twins glance at Helaena, who sighs while running a hand through her hair.

“There was an accident. A boating accident, Luke didn’t do what he was supposed to, and…” she trails off, “Aemond lost his eye because of it.”

“Holy shit,” you breathe, your heart falling into your stomach.

“It wasn’t his fault, I mean we were all kids, and my dad, he never thought things through, ever,” Helaena says sighing, “We were just kids. If it's anyone’s fault it was his.”

Panic bubbles in your throat, heat rising to your face as you glance back at the tennis court. You hear the smack of the tennis ball against his racket as Aemond swings, making Aegon sprint to the opposite side to try and catch the ball. 

“I had no idea, fuck,” you begin, “Shit, I should say something.”

Helaena shakes her head.

“Don’t worry about it,” she tells you, “I mean, you can try, but Aemond’s pretty closed off.”

“Aemond’s been a dick since we were kids,” Baela tells you. 

But you feel like you have to. Aemond had been a dick to you, but you hadn’t meant to poke at a wound. You’d say something.

Daeron and Luke run by quickly, both clad in swim trunks, speaking rapidly about something while hunched around Daeron’s iPhone. Rhaena frowns, taking a sip from her mimosa as they make a beeline toward the regatta sign-up booth. 

“Daeron!” Helaena calls, waving them over.

The boys stop, not looking up, but head toward the table. 

“What’re you doing?” Helaena asks, rising from her seat and reaching for her brother’s phone.

“Give it Hel!” Daeron says, but Helaena is quicker, with years of practice being surrounded by brothers. 

She glances at the screen, eyebrows furrowing together before she rolls her violet eyes.

“Not this again,” she comments as Daeron snatches the phone, his ears turning red. 

“We need it!”

“You say that every year!” Helaena teases.

“Need what?” you ask.

“Every year, they go on a treasure hunt, for Aegon the Conqueror's lost ruby crown,” Helaena tells you.

“Who’s Aegon the Conqueror?” you ask.

“Some dickhead who thought he was discovering King’s Landing but instead ruined the lives of the indigenous people who were here before him,” Baela tells you. 

“He had a cool crown though,” Luke comments, “And if we find it, it’s good luck for the regatta.”

“You don’t need luck,” Rhaena tells him, “You’ve spent nearly all your free time on Arrax, you have this in the bag.”

Luke gives her a pained expression, his cheeks turning pink at her praise. 

“I guess so,” he tells her. 

Baela blows a raspberry, ruffling Luke’s hair. He makes a noise of protest, quickly trying to fix the mess she’s made. 

“You know Arrax like the back of your hand,” she confirms, “You got this.”

“They’re right, dude,” Daeron comments, “It’s all good.”

“Says the person who doesn’t have to do it,” Luke says.

Daeron shrugs. 

“Blame my mom. I don’t get why I have to visit Uncle Ormund,” Daeron groans, “Oldtown is so fucking boring.”

“Why doesn’t she make Aemond go?” Luke asks.

“Because he’s mom’s favorite,” Daeron answers immediately, earning a slap on the back of the head from Helaena, “OW!” 

“Mom doesn’t have favorites,” Helaena insists as Daeron punches her in the arm. 

He flinches as Helaena smacks him again, yelling and scrambling away from her. Luke laughs at the sight and you can’t help but giggle as well. Helaena seems so dreamy, with her head in the clouds, but she’s tough having grown up among three brothers. 

Rhaena grabs Helaena’s glass, moving it out of the way as Daeron twists her arm, causing her to bump into the table.

“You little shit!” she yelps, stomping on his foot.

Daeron releases her with a pained gasp, hopping out of reach. Luke tugs his shoulder, directing him toward the sign-up booth. 

“Assholes,” Helaena mutters, falling back into her seat. 

You can’t help but giggle at their antics. You watch as they make it to the sign-ups, crouching over the sheet to write their names. You smile at the boys. If there is still tension between the sides of the family, at least Luke and Daeron seem to get along. And you’re really liking Helaena. 

“You provoked him,” Rhaena teases and Helaena’s mouth drops open, “Kidding!”

Helaena puts on her sunglasses before taking a bite of her eggs. 

“What are your plans for the day?” she asks, through a mouthful.

Baela makes a face before answering.

“I’m thinking we will keep today pretty chill. Drinks by the pool, maybe visit the spa. Oh! And we have to rent you a racket,” Baela says smiling.

“For what?” you ask.

“Tennis, dummy!” Baela says, rolling her eyes, “Rich kid special, I’m going to teach you the sport we were all forced to.”

“Five summers of tennis camp,” Rhaena says grimacing, “Another family bonding experience where we all nearly murdered each other.”

“This family is strangely fucking competitive,” Helaena agrees, nodding. 

You laugh and continue eating your breakfast. Helaena and Rhaena promise to join you later on but disappear as you make your way to the pool. 

“Baela!” the woman at the regatta sign-up calls as you and Baela walk past.

Baela stops, smiling begrudgingly at the woman. Though she’s wearing a sun hat, the bridge of her nose is red from the sun. She smiles as you and Baela approach. 

“Hey Mrs. Redwyne,” Baela says politely.

“I was curious if you’re planning on entering this year?” Mrs. Redwyne asks, motioning to the sign-up sheet.

“Oh no, not this year,” Baela says, shaking her head, “I think my dad might, but I’m just trying to have a relaxing summer.”

“I see,” Mrs. Redyne says, eyes flickering to someone else who approaches.

“Are you signing up?” Luke says, panting as though he booked it back over to the booth.

“Chill,” Baela tells him, “No I’m just looking.”

It seems Mrs. Redwyne lost interest after Baela told her she wasn’t competing. Baela nudges your arm, nodding towards the pool, just as a group of guys joins you at the booth. 

“Hey Bae,” a curly-haired boy says, leaning down to the sign-ups. 

He wets his lips, signing his name in a quick flourish. 

“Didn’t realize you were home,” he says, handing the pen back to Mrs. Redwyne.

He stands straight and smiles, flashing rows of pearly white teeth. 

“Who’s your friend?” the curly-haired boy asks, peering around Baela to look at you. 

You meet his warm, brown eyes, blushing at his stare. Whoever he is, he’s handsome. 

“My roommate, best friend,” Baela says, introducing you, “She’s staying for the summer.”

“Nice to meet you,” he says, shaking your hand and smiling, “I’m Will.”

“Y/N,” you tell him, returning his smile.

He smiles like a politician trying to win votes; it’s sweet, disarming. It makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up, and your stomach does flip-flops. Not a totally unpleasant feeling. 

“You gonna compete?” he asks, nodding to the sign-ups.

“Me? No, I don’t really sail. I’ll be cheering Luke from the sidelines,” you tell him.

“Damn, already chosen a side, I respect that,” he says, crossing his arms, “Though I bet I can change your mind.”

“How so?” you ask, surprised at your flirtatious tone.

It’s easy, here in King’s Landing. You don’t really know anyone, you’ve got nothing to lose.

“Reigning champs, last three years,” he not so subtly brags, “The Golden Rose is undefeated.” 

“Impressive,” you tell him, nodding in appreciation. 

“Hardly,” a familiar voice drolls from behind you.

Aemond walks by, Aegon by his side. They’d finished their set, both sweaty and glistening in the morning sun. A shame they’re dicks. They’re undoubtfully hot as fuck. It seems the worst guys always are. Aemond’s eye flickers between you and Will, lip curling upwards in a sneer. 

“Are you finally competing?” Will asked, eyes widening, “If I remember correctly, you’re not that fond of sailing.”

Aemond shrugs, and Will chuckles nervously.

“Dude, do you even have a boat?” he asks, causing his friends to chuckle in response.

“We’ve got Sunfyre,” Aegon tells him, “Beautiful, my girl is.”

“Bro,” Will says, placing a hand over his heart, “You’d compete against me?”

“We’re not competing,” Aemond says before Aegon can answer, “Though if we were, it wouldn’t be much of a  challenge.”

Aemond’s gaze travels to Luke when he says the last part. Luke shies away from his uncle’s gaze, the tips of his ears reddening. You bite your tongue, turning back to Will.

“I’d like to see your boat,” you tell him, desperate to release some of the tension.

Will smiles, brown eyes returning to yours.

“It’s a date,” he tells you, “Can I get your number?”

You nod and he hands you his phone. You quickly plug in the digits. 

“Just so you know, my loyalties still lie with Luke,” you tell him cheekily.

Will laughs at that.

“We’ll see,” he says, taking his phone, “Nice meeting you, Y/N.”

“Likewise,” you tell him.

Will and his friends leave toward the golf course, several of them clasping him on the back. You can’t help but blush. A little summer fling could go a long way. And he is cute.

Aegon shakes his head, moving towards the bar, but Aemond stays put. Baela juts out her lower lip, humming appreciatively.

“Y’know, for once I think Aegon has the right idea,” she muses, “I’ll grab drinks and meet you by the pool?” 

“Sounds good,” you tell her, and she’s off. 

You figure now is as good a time as any to apologize for the previous night. You steady yourself, pulling back your shoulders, but Aemond speaks first.

“Will Tyrell,” he says, shaking his head, “Figures.”

You arch an eyebrow at him.

“The fuck does that mean?” you ask, crossing your arms. 

Aemond smirks.

“Figures you’d be into pretty boys,” he says nonchalantly, shrugging his shoulders. 

“If that were true I’d be into you,” you snap, eyes widening realizing what you’ve said.

Aemond raises his brows, his smirk only growing. 

“Which I’m not,” you anxiously clarify.

His seeing eye narrows and suddenly he’s looking at you differently, his head tilting to the side slightly as he looks you up and down. You turn your head, looking towards the bar. Baela’s still there, leaning forward and chatting with the bartender as he starts the blender. 

“Course,” Aemond says, beginning to walk away. 

You bite your lip. Fucking always putting your foot in your mouth. 

“Wait!” you call and he turns, “I just…about last night.”

Aemond purses his lips, holding a hand up to stop you.

“Don’t,” he says, beginning to turn away.

“But-”

“Seriously,” he warns and continues walking before disappearing into the clubhouse. 

But you’re determined, and you follow him inside despite your feet wanting to take you in the opposite direction. You walk into a ballroom, and see Aemond across the room grabbing a water bottle from a fully stocked table. 

You head towards him but are stopped by a familiar face.

“Hi!” Floris says smiling, ear to ear, “Are you signing anything up for the auction?”

Your breath leaves your lungs seeing her and you struggle to find your words.

“Um…I…no,” you tell her, shaking your head. 

Floris looks at you questioningly.

“Okay, well if you change your mind, we’re here to register items daily from 11-3,” she says, motioning to a table beside her. 

“Thanks,” you tell her, moving toward Aemond.

“Hey!” you call, catching his attention.

Aemond looks at you, releasing a deep, exasperated sigh. 

This motherfucker. 

“Look, I’m sorry if I said something to offend you,” you begin, “Not my intention, and you don’t have to worry about ever interacting with me again.”

“Sounds far-fetched,” he comments, sipping his water.

“What?” you ask incredulously. 

This man is giving you a headache.

“You’re staying with my family, we’re bound to run into each other,” he tells you, violet eyes aglow as if he’s enjoying the argument. 

“Well I’ll do my best to stay out of your way,” you tell him, “You should do the same.”

“Should I?” he ponders, “You’re awfully demanding.”

You squint at him, jaw slacking in shock. Aemond’s lip curls into a smirk. You breathe in, ready to retaliate, but release a breathy laugh instead. 

“You know what? Okay,” you tell him, pressing your lips together in a tight line.

You turn away from him, retreating the way you came. Floris watches you depart, her eyes flickering from Aemond to you, a sour expression on her pretty face. You smile politely at her as you pass, which she does not return. 

You frown. Even trying to be nice comes back to bite you. Sheesh. You hear Baela call your name as you return to the outside deck and she holds two glasses filled with a pink slush and decorated with little umbrellas. You sigh, before putting on your sunglasses and making your way over to her. 

After you head back to Driftmark for an afternoon nap, you plan to grab dinner at Dragonstone, but the weather does not cooperate (much to Baela’s delight).

“Oh no,” she dramatically pouts, watching the rain splash against the glass of her window. 

Rhaenys frowns at her, and Baela smiles innocently. 

“Call your father,” she tells Baela, “It’s not safe to be out on the water in this weather.”

“Tell them that,” you say, nodding to the lights you see in the bay.

Someone thinks it’s a good idea to be sailing. You can’t really see who it is, can’t make out anything except one larger sailboat, barely rocked by the choppy surf, while a smaller counterpart is being jolted around by the waves. 

“Unwise to be out in this weather,” Rhaenyrs murmurs, as lightning cracks through the sky, illuminating the bay.

“That kind of looks like…” Baela’s sentence trails off, softly. 

Baela squints and then shrugs, giving up on trying to identify the boats. The loud sounds of thunder shake the very foundations of High Tide, the splatter of rain lulling you into a dreamless sleep later that night. 

The destroyed remains of Luke Velaryon’s ship would not be discovered until early the following morning.

note: what is it about me and cliffhangers?? I just like to keep you guessing, I suppose 😘 LOVE LOVE LOVE YOU ALL!

OLS Taglist: @talesofoldandnew, @diannnnsss, @aemondslefteyeball, @urmomsgirlfriend1, @castellomargot, @atherverybest, @high-on-darren-criss, @diosademuerte, @padfooteyes, @tempo-rary-fix, @amirawritespoorly, @chainsawsangel, @toodlesxcuddles, @tssf-imagines, @malfoytargaryen, @nina2697, @glame, @joliettes, @yentroucnagol

@grungegrrrl, @moonlightfoxx

bold means tumblr would not let me tag!

[moris-auri]

Fic recs

In lieu of doing a 1k follower thingy? on my main - I am instead doing a list of fics that i've read so many times and adore 💕💕

Competition + The Last of the Dragons + La Petite Mort (Ptolemaea) + Pomegranate Seeds + Our Gentle Sin + Morning Rain by @undertheorangetree

The Golden Ratio + Carrion Flowers + Anhedonia + Not yours, never was + Rev. 22:20 + Release by @ewanmitchellcrumbs

Iron on Silk + A curse for a curse + Intrusion (part 1) + A snake in the bosom by @barbieaemond

It's Not Tonight + Lazy Sunday + She Walks in Starlight + A love that burns + Hae iksā + But you came over me like some holy rite. + Insatiable by @arcielee

To shine + Only worth living if somebody is loving you + All Things end + To See God + To take pleasure + Before The Storm by @helaelaemond

Of Secret Worship + The Silent Sister + Take Me To Church + To Love and Cherish by @sylasthegrim

It Will Come Back + Mine All Mine + Come So Close That I Might See + De Facto + Just for a Moment + My Heart Belongs to Daddy by @humanpurposes

The Silver Dragon + Studious + Monsters in the Garden by @exitpursuedbyavulcan

Of Duty and Honor + The Phantom of the Red Keep by @1800-fight-me

Everything by @aemonds-sapphire

Lessons by @toms-cherry-trees

You Belong To Me Now by @myfandomprompts

Now I’m Covered In You by @inthedayswhenlandswerefew

A Caution for Young Girls + Lechery by @targaryen-dynasty

Glass Cuts Deepest by @flowerandblood

Of Blood and Fire by @theoneeyedprince

taunt by @aemondsbabe

The Hour of Ghosts by @bottlesandbarricades

Down in Flames + An Ego Thing + A Cursed Place + Remedy + A Morning At Home by @sapphire-writes

Pearl of The Realm + A Perfect Score + Lost Without You + Mornings with Billy Washington + See You At Sunset + Every Little Bit by @targaryenrealnessdarling

The Sublet + Linger by @asumofwords

FICS ON A03:

Wildest Dreams by @ohhstark

they say I killed you (haunt me then) + Iron and Ash by @acrossthesestars

[huramuna]

I 🩷love🩷 the banshee's lament so much 🥰

What are you reading right now? Any recs for similarly angsty fics?

awww thank you dear!! i am so glad you like it!!

i'm currently reading 1968 by @inthedayswhenlandswerefew. it is an angsty reader x aegon au and i am totally hooked! maggie never misses on her modern au's.

i am also reading the maiden and the drowning boy by @emilykaldwen. it is an ongoing canon-era aegon x oc fic with an oc i absolutely adore. the development so far of abby and aegon is lovely and nuanced and you cannot convince me that abby isn't a canon character as she fits in so well! (she is in my heart, grrm watch OUT.)

additionally, i'm enraptured by they say i killed you (haunt me then) by @vampire-exgirlfriend. wylla is another oc i absolutely love, paired with aemond. i love me a feisty northern woman so wylla fits the bill perfectly and gives aemond a run for his money.

as for angsty fics (that i have finished!) i have quite a few to recommend!!

glass cuts deepest by @flowerandblood is a beautiful series and i could go on for hours on why this is one of my favorite series. it is a modern au with a ~scandalous~ student / professor pairing with oh so much angst. this fic (and the lovely author) made me create my tumblr account and share my writing with you all, so it is close to my heart!

who taught you to love like that? by @ewanmitchellcrumbs made me tear up quite a few times and may or may not be my late night why-am-i-crying-and-horny-at-the-same-time fic. conscripted me into the aemond x sugar baby vision. want it, need it. asap.

dragonskin by @missybee-writes is a LONG HAUL for sure, but goodness gracious if it doesn't hit all of the points of a good read for me. angst, action, romance, smut... and take everything you know about the dance of the dragons and throw it out the window, because things are VERY much different here. it is a ride i can't wait to sit down and take again!

consequences by @targaryenrealnessdarling is the QUINTESENTIAL angst fic. not only that, it is inclusive of one of my favorite tropes which is aemond x maid / servant. this fic has TEETH and will rip your little heart out but good god if it doesn't hurt so good!! this is another fic i read when i need a good cry.

[flowerandblood]

Glass Cuts Deepest Moodboard Chapter 6 Preview He noticed something else and although he didn't want it to matter to him, he felt a tickle in his chest when he caught Wright glancing over her shoulder at him, that warmth again sounded in her greeting and farewell. Looking at her, he felt the discomfort caused by how much he craved her good opinion, flocking to her like a moth to the light, tired and worn out, wanting at last to find a refuge somewhere. He had the impression that the last years of his life had been a perpetual tossing in agony, a running to nowhere, feeling breathless and drained of strength, of emotion, so that the fact that he felt anything for her was something shocking, new, revealing to him.

[flowerandblood]

Glass Cuts Deepest Chapter 6 today 💐💐💐

[flowerandblood]

I don't want this to come across as weird/creepy as I'm not sure how to explain or even ask.

After what happened to Aemond, has he been with anyone else in a physical way? Its such a traumatic experience for him and it's bound to have an effect on him which linger through adulthood,

I can right away answer that he wasn't. After that the only women that could approach him without his pannic attack was his mother and his sister.

That's why he didn't want any women in his workshop, that's why he panicked when Lyanna came to him that day and suggested that he himself could be a rapist. Something in his mind just exploded then and that's why he slapped her (it's not an excuse - just an explanation what had happened inside his mind at this moment). Wright is the first girl he accepted and that's only because of her way of being - she keeps her distance from him, doesn't come too close, doesn't distract him, doesn't cry or speak too loud, doesn't dress too girly to work in his workshop.

She is trying to be asexual in his eyes and it works, he doesn't see her as a fully woman up to the point that he started to notice that she is just "pretty" in his eyes, which, again, makes him panicked. As we know he is in the therapy, but to work out such trauma sometimes years are needed. So, no, I can't imagine him sleeping with some girl after that, he would help himself with his morning tension with masturbation and that's it.

[flowerandblood]

Glass Cuts Deepest Epilogue

[ professor! • Aemond x student! • female ]

[ warnings: sex content, smut, angst, trauma, mention of sexual harassment and panic attacks, the power of fluff ]

[ description: Aemond and Wright have a year of their relationship behind them, full of joy, but also difficult situations for them, related to demons from his past. Despite this, they find their own ways to live normally and happily. Aemond, jealous that Cregan is now her professor, decides to find out if the girl who changed his life still loves him. Sexual tension, childhood traumas and sweet fluff. ]

This oneshot is the events that take place one year after Glass Cuts Deepest Series. This is a special chapter written to celebrate my one year on this platform, which falls on March 22.

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

My other works: Masterlist

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When a year had passed since he and Wright had officially announced that they were together, he was relieved to find that his panic attacks had almost disappeared, and if they did occur, they no longer involved vomiting and convulsions, causing only discomfort and a feeling of tightness in his stomach.

Wright was perfectly capable of recognising its symptoms, spotting instantly when he froze or turned pale, not touching him at the time, just asking quietly if he needed a moment alone or if he would like her to embrace him.

More and more often he wanted to simply cuddle up to her, so he would then ask her to let him, but not to touch him herself. He would then draw her close and sink his face into her neck, taking in her wonderful scent, listening to her breathing until he calmed down.

"− I'm sorry −" He mumbled then, ashamed that, as usual, he thought he had got it over with, that it was so good after all. He fought then against the grim thoughts that he would never be normal, that she had to live with someone who didn't cope, who was constantly afraid.

"− don't apologise −" She whispered softly, resting her cheek on his head, playing with the fingers of her hand, waiting patiently for him to be able to function normally again.

"− I'm glad that now when you feel unwell, you don't feel discomfort when I'm close − it's very important to me −" She said warmly, kissing his hair, and he felt his muscles relax slowly, the fact that she never made sudden movements, never tried to embrace him against his will, made him feel safe.

She respected the fact that he knew for himself what was good for him and what he needed, and she never forced him into anything, on the contrary, she always carefully studied his barriers.

Once when she showed him a picture of a nightgown, finding it lovely and pretty, white, lacy and strapless, of slippery, shiny material, he turned pale and shook his head quickly, looking away, seeing her enter his room then, what she was wearing was all too similar in his mind, a cold sweat on his back.

"− oh, I'm sorry − I won't show you this kind of things anymore − I just − I'd like to buy myself some nice pyjamas − the kind you'd like −" She muttered, looking up at him, turning on the couch, he sighed quietly, rubbing her bare legs that rested on his thighs.

"− I like it when you wear my Tshirts − nothing turns me on more −" He hummed, looking at her out of the corner of his eye, seeing her blush as she lay dressed in his black shirt covering her thighs, he knew she had nothing but panties underneath, just the way he liked it.

"− oh −" She mumbled quietly, embarrassed, pretending to scroll something further on her phone.

Since he had left the university and focused on his own studio, he felt that the immense frustration that had been with him all those years, of having to deal with strange women, having to constantly explain his decisions and apologise for the way he was, had left him.

In his new workshop, more spacious and brighter than the one he had worked in before, he felt free, and the only girl who was allowed inside was Wright.

Sometimes he couldn't help himself and would ask her how Cregan was doing in his job, seeing that she was progressing more and more each month, jealous that now someone else was her professor, she was spending a lot of time in class which was hard for him to come to terms with after they had spent so much time in each other's company up to that point.

"He is a really good teacher. He has a lot of patience and explains complicated things so that they seem simple, or he shows us something by doing it himself and we can watch." She said lightly, standing beside him, helping him cut out templates for his new commission, which he was working on with some of his former students he had hired. He hit the side of her cheek with the tip of his tongue, impatient for some reason.

"That's good." He replied dispassionately, feeling her cast him a quick glance upon hearing the tone of his voice, leaning lower to bend forward and look at his face.

"Are you jealous, Professor?" She hummed softly and he pressed his lips together, recognising that he hadn't given a shit, that he'd wanted to do this for a long time.

She squealed quietly as he grabbed her by the arm and turned her around facing the backlit table, his hands slid her panties down in a swift, sure movement, leaving her in a state of shock, his hand on the nape of her neck forced her to bend over, the material of her dress lifted slightly, revealing her naked buttocks, he noticed out of the corner of his eye her entrance, glistening from her wetness.

She was his Eve, and although neither of them had ever completely undressed, and he wasn't sure he would ever be able to do so or endure such a sight without the memories overwhelming him, the sight of her partial nudity no longer frightened him, for her body was his temple, pure, warm and safe.

"− I've been thinking about this ever since I met you − you don't even know how many times I've stood over you barely restraining myself from fucking you good on a table like this −" He breathed out, quickly unzipping his trousers, lowering them a tad once with his boxers, not waiting a moment, forcing the swollen head of his cock between her puffy, weeping folds.

"− wider − that's it − fuck − are you okay? −" He muttered, casting her an uncertain look after he thrust deeper into her, sliding all the way in, her tight walls resisting him as he hadn't prepared her for this as well as usual.

"− y-yes − keep going − just − take it slow −" She mumbled softly, and he hummed under his breath, leaning down, placing his hands on either side of her on the backlit top of his table on which he usually cut glass, his lips pressed against her long, perfumed neck as his hips began to rock slowly inside her, barely sliding out of her without any rush, letting her get used to his size.

"− so warm − fuck, baby −" He gasped out, hearing her first shy moans, feeling his cock slide into her with increasing ease, slick with her moisture, her muscles began to throb around him, squeezing him, he looked down, watching as he opened her wide with deep, sure thrusts of his hips.

"− please, Professor − please −" She mewled and he sighed loudly, she knew how it affected him, she knew how much it aroused him, involuntarily he picked up his pace, his thighs began to slam against her buttocks with loud splats, all around them just their panting and the sticky clicks of her leaking wetness.

"− you have no shame − begging for your professor's cock − is this how you got good grades at university? huh? − you like it when they fuck you well? −" He sneered, clamping his hands over her bare buttocks, letting go of control completely, allowing his subconscious to take over him and his movements, his pushes faster and more aggressive, rubbing her where she needed it. She leaned back on her palms against the table top, responding to his thrusts by rocking her hips, her hot, wet muscles sucking him inside with her moans of delight.

"− n-no − I work so hard −" She muttered frightened, as if some part of her really believed he could think that about her, he chuckled under his breath, running his hand through her hair, pounding into her so fast and deep that he was no longer sliding out of her with loud slaps of skin against skin.

"− I can see how hard you're working − how much it costs you to fit it in −" He scoffed, and she whimpered at his words, responding more and more eagerly to his thrusts, his knee spreading her thighs wider, forcing her to bend over again with her loud gasp of exertion.

"− I-I'm sorry − I promise I'll be good already, I promise, I promise, I promise −" She mewled, moaning low as he felt her muscles begin to throb in orgasm, her body arching backwards, he embraced her around the waist, his other hand gripping her cheeks, his lips pressed against hers in an aggressive, greedy, hot kiss as, after a few sloppy, messy thrusts, he came deep inside her with a heavy sigh of delight.

"− I know − my sweet little girl, am I right? −" He gasped, panting loudly along with her, embracing her tightly from behind, nuzzling his cheek against hers, her hands clasped around his arms, stroking them steadily, his half-hard manhood still twitching deep inside her.

"− yes −" She mumbled, burying her face in his cheek, as she always did after their rapprochement, needing his closeness and the tenderness he never denied her.

"− you don't think of him that way, do you? −" He asked quietly, ashamed of his insecurity, of his own fear and imaginings, of the fact that someone else, someone better could easily take his place at her side when he needed her so much, loved her so much.

"− oh, no, silly − I never felt anything like that before you − I think I was in love with you long before I realised it −" She said warmly, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye, a sweet, girlish smile full of tenderness on her lips that melted his heart, his confirmation that all was well.

"− yes − yes, me too −" He murmured, leaning lower, placing warm, wet kisses on her face. He began to wonder intensely if the ring he had chosen for her, which lay tucked deep in one of his drawers where he kept his designs was still there, and if he would be a complete idiot to propose to her now.

After a moment he decided that yes, he would be a complete idiot and sighed quietly, smiling involuntarily under his breath, sliding out of her gently, helping her put her panties back on over her buttocks, then zipping up his trousers, looking at her out of the corner of his eye, she turned to face him, all red from exertion, her eyes big, her breathing still slightly accelerated.

"Take me today to the church where you first saw the stained glass windows. You told me that story once, I think you mentioned that your father took you there." He said softly and she blinked, curious, cocking her head, leaning her palms against the edge of the table.

"Alright, why not, Professor. Where did you suddenly get this idea?" She asked cheerfully, excitedly, and he snorted under his breath.

"You'll see."

[flowerandblood]

Glass Cuts Deepest (14) (End)

[ professor! • Aemond x student! • female ]

[ warnings: sex content, oral sex, smut, fluff, angst, trauma, panic attack, mention of rape, indecent student-teacher relationship ]

[ description: A female painting student is finally able to choose the specialisation she has dreamt of - stained glass. She wants to become a student of the best specialist in this field, but he, for some reason, refuses to accept female students into his workshop. She finds out that he once slapped a female student of one of the other professors. Nevertheless, she makes an attempt to find out what happened then and to convince him to teach her. Slow burn, sexual tension, dark, agressive Aemond, great childhood traumas. ]

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

Previous chapters: Masterlist

_____

After everything that had happened between them, he needed a moment to put it all together in his head, to realise that he had crossed a line, that from now on he was not a slave to his trauma. He got close to the girl he desired, experienced fulfilment with her, and although he wanted more he knew this was a good start.

For the next few nights, they only kissed and cuddled, however, her constant presence calmed him, when he fell asleep snuggled into her, no more nightmares woke him up. Finally, he slept peacefully through the nights, realising with relief that the worst was behind him.

Or so he thought.

And then he saw her.

She almost bumped into him running out of his workshop, apparently trying to escape before she met him, but it was too late. He stood in front of her and just froze, her scent, the same one he had smelt then filled his lungs again, and he felt small again, felt like a nobody.

Her look of terror and uncertainty, her pale face told him at once that she remembered that night perfectly, she passed him quickly, and he felt as if some circuit in his brain had stopped working, his heart pounding like mad.

He could see her, he could feel her, he could feel her everywhere, as if she had coated him with her essence, like a sickening slime that he couldn't wash away.

Then he felt the same twitch in his stomach and he understood, understood that his body reacted this way because when she did this to him it was the fact that he vomited that saved him.

His body identified this reflex as protection, wanting to disgust him in the eyes of the other in case of danger, to deprive anyone of desire towards him.

Everything that was happening to him, everything he was experiencing, everything he couldn't cope with, only came from the fact that he was perpetually afraid that someone would touch him again.

He literally ran into the bathroom, barely managing to kneel in front of the toilet before he vomited, feeling the tremors and the cold sweat on the back of his neck, the convulsions that shook his body and the emptiness in his mind made him realise that this was the strongest panic attack he had experienced in his life since he was raped.

He was scared, scared like a child and he thought with shame that he wished he was in his mother's arms, that this time again no one would save him, no one would come.

He shuddered when he heard her desperate voice.

"Professor."

He vomited again, feeling the spasm in his stomach, his trembling hand leaning against the cold tiled wall, trying not to fall over, feeling the hum in his head and the loud pounding of his heart. He heard her knocking firmly on his cabin door, breathing fast.

"Please. Please, please, open." He heard her pleading, heartbroken voice, but he was unable to rise.

He needed her, wanted her to come inside, to embrace him, to stroke him, to whisper that all was well, that she was there for him, but he was unable to move, trembling all over.

"Is it her? Just tell me, is it her?"

He squeezed his eyes shut and cried out loudly, lowering his head, covering his face with his hand, despairing that yes, yes, yes, it was her, his nightmare, his trauma, his grief, the reason for his unintentional suffering, his depravity, his aggression, everything he didn't want to be.

He drew in a loud breath when he heard her suddenly leave, turning over his shoulder, wiping his mouth with his hand, feeling a tightness in his throat.

"Wright?" He asked in a low, trembling voice, but only emptiness, nothingness, answered him.

She had left.

Why?

Why now, when he needed her?

He began to weep like a child, hiding his face between his knees, distraught, lonely, lost, not understanding how she could just leave him like that, unable to calm himself, knowing that only her touch, only her words would be able to soothe him, only her scent, but she was gone, she was gone, gone, gone, gone like his mother.

And then suddenly it dawned on him.

He got up quickly with a pounding heart, opening the door, turning on the tap quickly, rinsing his mouth and washing his face. He turned off the water and ran out of the bathroom, peering into the workshop and noticed to his horror that she was not there.

Cregan wanted to approach him, apparently expressing his displeasure at this unannounced visit from strangers, but he didn't have time for that.

"Not now." He said lowly and moved on, fearing what his imagination was telling him.

She followed her.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

What for? Who asked her to do this? What was she trying to prove to herself?

Alys would find out they had something in common and destroy them.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

FUCK!

His thoughts were a conglomeration of chaos, horror, anger and madness, the students scattered to the side seeing the expression on his face as he left the building.

And then he spotted them. They were standing by her car.

He thought he was going to kill them.

That he would strangle them both with his own hands.

After a moment Wright turned and moved towards the entrance, her head lowered, she was pale. He pressed his lips together, reaching out to meet her, her surprised, terrified look betraying how afraid she was of his reaction, that she knew she had done something she shouldn't have, that she had crossed a line.

He gripped her arm tightly, squeezing her skin painfully hard.

"What have you done?" He asked low, coldly, threateningly, feeling that he could really do something to her now, feeling like he was more feral animal than human. She, however, answered nothing, merely shook her head, her lips trembling, her brow arching in pain.

He knew that look.

Always this crying.

"Who the fuck let you interfere? Hm?" He growled menacingly, wanting at last to squeeze any answer out of her, a reason why she felt she had the right to do so.

"Don't touch me." She mumbled, struggling to push him away and simply ran off, locking herself in the toilet.

Terrified students stood around them, whispering amongst themselves, but he thought nothing of it, looking over his shoulder at the door behind which she had disappeared.

Don't touch me.

He felt a tightness in his throat and a cold sweat on the back of his neck at the thought that she didn't want him anymore.

He loved her and she didn't want him to touch her.

He felt his anger turn into something else, overflowing in his heart into passionate grief and despair, a longing for her and for her touch, a need to feel her, only her.

He was a nobody and he knew it, but still he hoped he had a chance, that he had changed.

He moved to follow her inside, closing the door behind him, hearing her loud, anxious breathing in one of the cabins. He approached her and knelt down, seeing the outline of her shoes and her trousers, her hands hugging her knees. He could feel his heart pounding hard, how desperate he was.

"I'm sorry. Okay? I'm sorry." He muttered helplessly, not recognising himself or his voice, sounding more like a boy than a man, a child who begged for attention, for comfort, for not to be rejected, to be given another chance, that he would be better, that he would be good now.

"− the sight of her − I − and you talking to her − I was furious − I need you − please −" He choked out in a trembling, cracking voice, thinking only of the fact that he had to touch her, touch her, touch her, slipping his hand under the door, and she squeezed it immediately, her soft fingers clenched painfully tight on his skin.

He felt relief, felt a pulsing in his trousers, felt that he wanted her, that he needed her, immediately, now.

He heard her draw in a loud breath, her voice trembling in the air as she spoke her words, terrified.

"− I'm sorry − I wanted to protect you − not to be that person who doesn't react − but I guess I just ruined everything − I shouldn't have done that, I'm so sorry −" She sobbed, and he clenched his eyelids, squeezing her hand tighter and crying himself, feeling some kind of relief.

She had done this for him.

I wanted to protect you.

I wanted to react.

Then, in his room, no one helped him.

But she followed her out, bravely trying to show him that she stood behind him, that she would not let this woman get close to him ever again.

He wanted to say something, to show understanding, that he appreciated it, but he heard suddenly, horrified, that someone had entered and realised that he had just knelt in the women's toilet. He was relieved when he heard Wright quickly open the door to her cubicle and let him enter, closing it behind him.

He looked at her for a moment, her soft face swollen with tears, her large, warm eyes filled with affection, concern and regret, her pink lips parted slightly in an accelerated breath. They were both quiet, listening as the girl who had come inside washed her hands, but his thoughts were focused only on her and what he wanted to do to her.

He wanted to feel her.

As much as possible.

When they heard the sound of the door opening and closing he approached her with a pounding heart, turning her lightly with her back to him, pressing her against the cold tiles, sliding his hands down to her trousers, undoing her button and zipper, feeling how hard his heart was pounding.

"Slide them down along with your panties." He instructed her in a low, hoarse voice with a kind of certainty and determination that shocked him himself.

He was not afraid.

He saw no scenes in his mind, no memories, nothing.

His mind circled as if looped around only one thought.

He had to feel her.

Now.

As deeply as possible.

He watched with slightly parted lips as she obeyed his command, trembling all over, and he undid the belt of his trousers.

"Lean forward." He said matter-of-factly and she obeyed his command without a word, her hands and cheek pressed against the cold tiles, her lips slightly parted.

He unzipped his trousers and lowered his boxers slightly, looking at her face, not at her buttocks or what was between them, not wanting to give this a purely sexual, fleshly, perverse overtone.

No.

He just wanted to feel her.

With his whole self.

"− I need it − okay? − fuckin' need it −" He muttered with some kind of embarrassment, knowing that this wasn't how it should go, but he couldn't help himself, he needed her, he needed her this way, he needed solace and relief, a refuge deep inside her.

That was why he clenched his hand on her hip holding her in place, the other directing his swollen, hard manhood to her wet entrance, feeling how hot she was, how much she wanted him.

He felt her body, her tight, fleshy walls resisting him as he began to push his tip against her entrance and they both sighed low, trying to muffle the louder sounds, trembling and panting.

"− oh fuck −" He moaned low, surprised at how intimate and private it felt, how exposed and vulnerable he felt in front of her, suspecting that she felt exactly the same way. He could hear only the loud beating of his own heart, only his own breathing, no thoughts, no memories.

Now he was the one taking what he wanted.

At the thought of it, he grasped her hips in his hands and spread her thighs the way a fruit opens, seeing how sticky she was with juices. He thought that she really was his Eve, that she was made for him to taste her in every way possible.

He slid deeper into her, wanting to experience her warmth and she mewled loudly, surprised that they were really doing this, that he had no intention of withdrawing.

He knew that she had given him the initiative completely, that he needed to do it the way he wanted, that only then would they both finally experience what they craved. He hushed her, listening with a pounding heart to hear if by any chance someone had come inside.

"− quiet − want to get caught? − hm? −" He asked lowly, sliding fully into her with a sigh of relief, finally feeling safe, her body wonderfully squeezing him from all sides and pulsing against him, making him feel pleasure even without any movement.

The sensation was something completely different from what he had experienced then; she was tight, hot and sticky, inviting, desired, his.

Being inside her seemed strangely natural to him.

They both started moaning and panting when, with involuntary, subconscious movements, he began to rock his hips, with sure, rough thrusts pushing her tight insides apart, as if he wanted to make her feel that this was where he belonged, deep inside her.

He conquered her, stretching her, fitting her to him, feeling waves of pleasure surge through his body.

"− oh, yes −" He heard her quiet sigh and felt his cock pulsate hard at the thought that he wasn't like her, he wasn't like Alys, that he wasn't taking her against her will, that she desired him and wanted to feel him deep inside her.

That thought made him start to move faster and more confidently, taking more and more pleasure from this close-up, just thinking about the fact that this was really happening, that he was doing this, that he was fucking the girl he loved, whom he desired.

"− do you like it? − like it when your professor fucks you good? −" He hissed out, tightening his fingers on the soft skin of her hips, wanting to hear more of her sweet sounds, more of her helplessness, a sign of how utterly vulnerable she was against him, with deep, brutal thrusts opening the way to his own fulfilment inside her.

"− yes −" She mumbled with difficulty, he involuntarily grinned hearing that she was barely able to get the words out, he slid his hand between her thighs, his fingers easily finding her clit, with sure, circular motions massaging her folds with the quiet click of her juices. He heard her squirm loudly, a shudder went through her whole body.

"− yes, what? −" He growled, wanting to force her to give him what he wanted. He knew she was only teasing him and it turned him on even more, the stabs of his hips seeming more natural to him than breathing, as if taking her, fucking her, was written into his very being.

"− yes, professor −" She gasped out, and he groaned low, feeling her words in his cock, knowing that just a few more pushes and he would come, do what he thought was impossible for him.

He was panting loudly along with her, feeling how from the motions of his hand around her bud her insides clenched against him, her hot, wet muscles refusing to let him go, their naked bodies slapping against each other quickly with a sticky splash.

"− that's what Adam did to Eve − his sin − then, under the Tree of Knowledge − he fucked her −" He breathed out into her ear as he leaned over her, as if he had experienced a daze, as if it was obvious that the first man had discovered pleasure in the first woman, that it was his destiny to have to unite with her, to feel her, to take her for himself.

He heard her struggling to stifle a moan of delight at his words, her fingers clenched tightly on the cold tiles, her eyes closed, her lips parted in a sweet, quiet sob, so wonderfully innocent. He felt like a man in paradise who discovers for the first time the meaning of pleasure, the meaning of the forbidden fruit, that which was never meant to be his.

In that moment they were both nothing more than a panting, hot, sticky mess chasing their fulfilment, her rough core clenched tightly against him driving him mad, giving him sensations more wonderful than he had ever been able to give himself with his own hand. He thought she was made to take him in, to have him inside her.

"− made to warm my cock −" He cooed tenderly with some kind of awe and affection, feeling those wonderful spasms in his lower abdomen and parted his lips feeling that it was coming.

"− fuck − m' gonna cum − where I −" He mumbled out horrified, realising that there was such a thing as pregnancy, awareness and responsibility.

"− inside me − m' takin pills − please −" She mewled, and he breathed a sigh of relief, allowing himself to finally feel the wonderful relaxation and pleasure, simply coming deep inside her as if it was the most natural, ordinary thing in his life.

Stunned by the sensation, he didn't understand much of what was happening, moving mechanically inside her for a long moment, moaning embarrassingly loudly, able only to thank God that no one had entered the toilet at that moment.

"− God, yes − baby − oh, fuck −" He mumbled, feeling the relaxation, the pleasure, the fulfilment wonderfully rippling through his lower abdomen, calming him, silencing all the voices in his head, leaving only the emptiness in his mind that he so desperately needed.

He moaned low and gasped when he heard her sobbing, and her walls began to squeeze against his still hard cock in orgasm, her whole body trembling before him, his thighs all sticky from her moisture running down her legs.

He stared at the spot where they were joined, breathing unevenly, realizing at last what he had actually done, only now coming back to earth. He swallowed loudly and licked his lips feeling his mouth go dry, his heart starting to pound like mad.

He felt terror and euphoria at the same time, but he didn't panic because he couldn't really see or feel anything that reminded him of that state.

She was not naked, her body was still covered by her T-shirt, the only thing he could look at was where their bodies met. He could feel her insides with all of him, but it wasn't like her insides, back then. She was tighter than her, her warm muscles enveloping him on all sides, making him feel safe.

It wasn't she who took him, it was he who took her, he forced her body to surrender before him, he forced himself deep into her like an animal, taking what he wanted, stretching her with himself, filling her with his seed.

He swallowed loudly at the thought that this time he might have been the one to hurt someone and felt a shudder run through his whole body.

"− are you okay? −" He asked quietly in a trembling voice hearing that she was merely breathing with her eyes closed, afraid that she might be about to burst into loud sobs or pretend that nothing had happened so as not to aggravate his condition even though she herself felt bad.

He heard her mutter quietly, parting her eyelids as if he had awakened her from a half-sleep.

"− yes − and you? −" She asked softly, and he breathed a sigh of relief, leaning down, resting his forehead against the top of her head, pressing his nose into her coconut shampoo-scented hair.

He had become addicted to that smell and told her to only buy that shampoo now, he associated it with her so much.

The moment she walked into his office for the first time and stepped uninvited into his heart.

He pressed his lips together, ashamed that it felt good, that he felt safe and at peace at last, that here, in this cramped cubicle, being deep inside her, no one could hurt him.

"− I − fuck − it feels so good to be inside you − doesn't want to take him out −" He muttered in embarrassment, dreaming only of staying inside her for a while longer, of not returning to reality, to what awaited him outside the door.

"We can stay like this for a while longer if you want." She whispered, and he just leaned in and kissed her neck, trying to calm his breathing.

He swallowed loudly feeling that he wanted to tell her.

That he hadn't done it out of a pure, animalistic need to spill his seed in some woman.

It was something caused by a feeling that almost overwhelmed him, filling his chest with heat.

"I love you." He whispered softly into her ear and felt her tremble all over, her insides clenched tightly against his semi-soft manhood. He licked his lower lip, feeling a cold sweat at the thought of what he should do.

"Will you come with me to the rector?"

The rector of the university greeted him coldly in his office, unhappy that anyone had paid him an unannounced visit, however Wright's presence at his side piqued his curiosity.

He knew that sooner or later one of the students who saw their aggressive exchange in the corridor would report to him that he was harassing a female student again, only making the whole affair worse.

He thought about all this for a long time, and even though he decided that he would only do it as a last resort, he felt that there was no going back, that it could only get worse.

"I came to give my resignation." He said as soon as the three of them sat down, Wright and he threw him quick, horrified glances.

"I am in a relationship with my student and I do not want to violate the good manners of the university in light of the events that have taken place here recently. I am submitting my resignation in person, I have also emailed it to you from my phone." He muttered lowly, letting the air out quietly, feeling his heart pounding.

The man seemed completely shocked, he shook his head, looking at him then at Wright.

"Is this some kind of unfunny joke?" He asked, but his cold, resolute gaze told him it was sadly not.

He was deadly serious.

"I want to end this amicably and leave without scandal." He said softly and glanced at his student, who covered her mouth with her trembling hand, looking at him with big eyes, tear after tear flying down her cheeks.

She didn't want him to do this.

But he was already tired.

He didn't have the strength to hide.

The man grunted, twisting in his chair.

"How long has this been going on?" He asked dryly, and he glanced at him with an indifferent expression on his face.

"We've been together for about a week." He replied truthfully. "It's a fresh case and I don't want it to affect my testimony in court."

The man gave him a stern, warning look. He pointed at him with his pen, which he held in his left hand.

"I can agree. But you will not say my name during the trial." He said coldly. He furrowed his brow, tightening his lips in fury.

"I'm supposed to protect you even though I've reported Jason's behaviour to you several times? They'll be asking me why I didn't say anything to the rector. They'll know someone is lying." He growled, unable to believe that his own boss, the head of the university had just blackmailed him.

"Say the word and everyone will know why you left. They'll find out how your student earned her place in your workshop." He said warningly, not taking his eyes off him, and he swallowed loudly feeling a squeeze in his heart.

He could hear Wright breathing loudly beside him, terrified, and he thought he couldn't do that to her.

"I won't mention you."

His students and Cregan took his decision with disbelief. They asked what had happened, why such a sudden decision.

He explained to them that he had long intended to open his own private studio, to operate on his own in a place where no one would judge him, and that he would be happy to invite them to work with him once they had graduated.

Cregan took it the worst. He took him aside and locked himself in the office with him, standing in front of him with his hands shoved in his pockets. He did not look at him, thoughtful, biting his lip.

"You and Wirght are together, aren't you? Is it because of that?" He asked lowly, glancing up at him, and he felt a tightening in his heart at the thought that he really had been his friend all these years, that he knew him like no one else. He nodded, not wanting to lie to him.

Cregan grunted, massaging his chin with his hand.

"I'm glad. She's a good girl. You both deserve to be happy." He said and held out his hand to him, which he shook gratefully.

"Thank you for everything."

It was the rector's decision that he would supervise them until the end of the semester so that they could hire someone to replace him from the new academic year, however, unofficially the workshop now belonged to Cregan and he was the one who would grade the students.

As a result, Wright was able to stay with them and although she cried loudly in his arms that evening, they were both relieved too.

"How do you feel? After what happened between us." She asked quietly, lifting her gaze, clearly wondering if he regretted what had happened. He swallowed quietly, considering her question.

"Fine, though I regret doing it this way. I think our first time should have been more tender and thoughtful, that I deprived something of myself and you. On the other hand, I don't know if I would have been able to break through if I had planned it. Because of what happened I wasn't thinking soberly and it happened…naturally. No less, I'm not sure it was a good thing. I feel that I took it out on you and used you." He whispered and kissed the top of her head, nuzzling his cheek into her hair, stroking her back steadily. He felt her snuggle into him tighter, the warmth of her body calming him.

"It was unexpected, but I needed it too. I think that although it may not have been ideal, it helped take away the tension at the thought of not knowing if we'd ever make it or break through. Now that it's behind us I feel like a big stone has fallen from my heart." She said quietly, and he hummed, playing with strands of her hair between his fingers.

"Yes. So do I."

He felt excited when he and Wright went to see the place he wanted to buy to set up his studio. It was located on the ground floor and looked like a small hall, there was plenty of space. With his eyes he could see where he would put the glass firing furnaces, where the tables would be and where the grinding machine, glass dividers, cabinets and chairs.

Wright approached him and he felt her slip her hand into his, which he squeezed gently, stroking her palm with his thumb.

"What do you think?" He asked low and heard her smile.

"I like it. It's bright and spacious here." She said lightly and he murmured under his breath, putting his arm around her and kissing her hair.

He felt warm at the thought that, above all, they were friends.

That he could talk to her about anything.

The interrogation in court by Jason Lannister's lawyer had been as nightmarish as he had guessed. Jason made sure to pull all the cards from his sleeve to discredit him as a credible witness.

"Is it true that you used physical violence against one of Professor Lannister's students?" He was asked by a young, deliciously confident man in an expensive suit lifting his chin as if he was sure he was going to destroy him, that he had him in a huff. Aemond looked at him impassively.

"Yes." He replied matter-of-factly. The man raised an eyebrow.

"Please explain to the High Court what you did, Professor." He said.

"I slapped her."

Several people in the room moved, exchanging words in whispers, he saw Lyanna's sad, guilt-filled face, a few benches away sat Wright, scared and devastated.

"How come you weren't expelled from the university after this incident?" He asked lightly, circling in front of him like a vulture, but he decided he wasn't falling for this cheap manipulation.

"That's not a question for me." He replied coolly. The lawyer bit his lip.

"You are testifying against my client today, however, you yourself were in a relationship with one of your female students. Isn't that right?" He continued, pulling out his strongest card. He pressed his lips together, feeling angry that he was dragging her into this, but he had expected this question too.

"We're still together and I resigned my position as soon as we decided it was something serious."

"And how long did you sleep together before you decided that 'it's something serious'? Was it how your student secured a place in your workshop, where up to that point you had only accepted men?"

"Objection." He heard the prosecutor's voice on the other side, behind which the victims sat. "This is not relevant to the case."

"Of course it, after all…" The lawyer started, but the judge interrupted him.

"I sustain the objection, please ask the next question."

Lannister's lawyer swallowed loudly, furious.

"You said that you perceived some disturbing behaviour towards Professor Lannister's female students. Why did the you not report this anywhere?" He asked him ironically, and he thought he didn't give a shit.

Wright told him she wasn't afraid, that people could say whatever they wanted about her, as long as the people who allowed it all to happen were punished.

He thought that, for once, justice had to be done.

"I have reported these behaviours to the rector of our university many times, but he has done nothing about the matter. He and Professor Lannister are good friends from back in their university days." He said coolly and heard the commotion in the hall again, this time greater, and smiled with satisfaction to see from the look on Jason's lawyer's face that he did not suspect he would say that, that the rector must have assured them he would not mention him.

"Are you suggesting that the rector of your university knew about these situations and did nothing about it? Am I understanding correctly?"

"I am not suggesting that. I know that."

When it was all over Wright fell into his arms and they stood like that in the corridor for a while, his face pressed into her hair. All he could focus on was her pleasant scent and the warmth of her body, feeling his hands tremble, his heart pounding like crazy.

"You were so brave."

They had to wait until the next hearing for the court's verdict, but he knew he had done what he could. Afterwards, Lyanna approached him and thanked him for his efforts. They shook hands and he thought that he had finally atoned for what he had done, for his thoughtlessness.

They decided to loosen up that evening and just order a pizza, not having the strength to cook or clean up, tired after a day full of emotions, feeling at last that they had this difficult phase behind them.

From that moment when he took her in the toilet they had not had this kind of sex, he was satisfying her with his hand and she was satisfying him with her mouth.

He touched her more and more boldly, his hands slipping under her T-shirt to clench on her soft breasts or buttocks, sometimes pulling up her top just to suck and lick her hard, swollen nipples, covering them back immediately.

He couldn't break through to undress each other, to see her completely naked.

He wasn't sure he would be able to overcome the sight of her in his mind, he knew it would probably end in a panic attack.

He had an urge to feel her again, to enter her again, but his fears were confirmed, when he thought soberly his mind was filled with unpleasant memories and he lost any desire.

He preferred not to do this to them and to provide a form of intimacy that did not evoke any of his negative thoughts.

Her mouth was able to do wonders, he trusted her completely and relaxed, allowing her to suck and lick him, her hand massaging with a sure motion the part of his manhood that couldn't fit down her throat, and he looked at her adoringly, stroking her hair, breathing loudly with pleasure, coming wonderfully hard every time.

He decided one day to finally taste the forbidden fruit.

"Today, I'm the one who wants to kiss you there." He muttered one day, turning her on her back, meeting her surprised, embarrassed gaze.

"− I − you don't have to −" She mumbled, and he hummed under his breath, slipping the material of her panties down, her thighs covered from him only by the material of her Tshirt.

"− I know −" He said softly, sitting down between her thighs, gripping them in his hands, spreading them out as if he were tearing the flesh of a fruit.

He didn't think much about what he wanted to do, enthralled by this ungodly sight, her moisture flowing from her entrance down her buttocks to his bedding.

He sank his face into her hot flesh, hearing her loud moan as soon as the tip of his tongue ran over her throbbing womanhood. He was breathless with pleasure, feeling the taste of her juices spilling over his palate, something so forbidden.

"− oh, God −" She mumbled out, her hands involuntarily reaching into his hair in an attempt to push him away, his motions and caresses clearly driving her mad.

He tightened his hands on her thighs, pressing his face harder against her hot flesh, his nose teasing the spot hidden between her folds.

"− fuck −" He exhaled, thrusting his tongue deep inside her, delighted at how intimate the sensation was, that he was literally eating her and what flowed from her body like sweet nectar, feeling her muscles clench around his tongue.

He ran his tip over her upper wall, right where he squeezed and massaged her with his fingers, bringing her to the state where she was just a babbling mess begging to be fulfilled.

"− yes − please, professor, right there −" She exhaled delightedly, her body arching backwards like a string, loud, pathetic whines ripping out of her throat each time he rubbed the sweet, rough spot hidden in her flesh with his tongue.

He murmured lowly at her words, with the loud, slurping sound of her wetness rubbing his tongue against her walls, pleased that she had learned to address him properly in bed, he could feel that his cock was completely hard, pulsing painfully in his sweatpants.

"− that's it − that's my good girl − c'mon, your professor wants you to cum on his face −" He cooed softly, and his words were apparently enough to make the tension in her lower abdomen peak, because he heard her loud, surprised cry, and then she came hard, her entrance leaking from her moisture that ran down her thighs.

He licked up everything that flowed out of her as if he hadn't drunk anything for months, thirsty, delighted at how intimate and intense this sensation was.

He rose up on his knees, panting heavily along with her, wiping his face with his hand, looking at her with satisfaction, her eyes closed, her lips parted in accelerated breathing, her hair spread around her head in disarray.

She was so beautiful.

He licked his lips, thinking about the fact that he felt like it.

That he wanted to cum inside her.

She opened her eyes when she heard the sound of his belt being unbuckled and swallowed loudly as she saw him slide his trousers and his boxers down a little, revealing what was underneath.

She thought he wanted her to take care of him now and tried to sit up, but he pushed her down onto the bed again.

"− no − keep your hands on either side of your head − just like that, good girl −" He praised her, brushing her lips tenderly, one hand having a tight grip on her wrist, the other guiding the fat head of his cock, already dripping from his precum to her hot, sticky entrance.

They both moaned as he pushed himself into her and slid in a little, his hand from his manhood instantly clenched on her other wrist giving him the reassurance that she would not touch him.

"− spread your thighs wide - yes, just like that, let me in −" He murmured in a trembling voice as he felt her legs open in front of him, allowing him to slide right into her with one smooth, steady thrust of his hips.

They both groaned, feeling how much they both throbbed, her insides oversensitive after her orgasm.

He began to move inside her slowly, looking down at her beautiful face, her cheeks red from exertion, her swollen lips parted in sweet, innocent moans from which his heart squeezed. He intertwined the fingers of their hands, leaning over her, their tongues meeting each other in a sticky, wet dance.

"− just like that − you're so warm − so tight −" He exhaled, unable to stop himself, pushing his cock into her more violently, faster and deeper, his naked thighs slapping loudly against her buttocks, wet and sticky from her juices, making just one big mess of them both.

"− please, professor − please, cum inside me −" She mumbled into his mouth between one loud kiss and the next and he groaned low at her plea, so arousing and kinky, stemming only from her natural instinct.

"− have no fear − your professor will fill you with his seed − such a dedicated student −" He muttered delightedly, speeding up, clenching his teeth on her lower lip, feeling his fulfilment approaching, his cock stretching her tight muscles with each brutal thrust, tearing her flesh apart, her fingers clenched painfully tight on the skin of his hand.

"− please − please − please −" She begged and finally he sighed wearily, feeling his body refuse his obedience, he felt relief and heat surging through his body as he cum at last, his warm semen spilling deep inside her.

"− fuck yes − God − so fucking good −" He mumbled out delighted by the sensation, by the fact that they had really done it, this time the way it should be, the way he wanted it to always be.

Only when he calmed down did he let go of her wrists and lay down on top of her, still deep inside her.

"Can I embrace you?" She asked quietly in a trembling voice, afraid to move. He nodded and she immediately enveloped him in a hug, one of her hands in his hair, the other stroking his back.

He hummed with contentment when he felt her warm lips on his temple.

"I love you. I love you very, very much." She whispered and he opened his eyes as he lifted his head to look at her. They kissed tenderly and gently, his hand trailing down her cheek, his heart filled with nothing but peace, nothing but affection.

"My Eve."

______

This is how I end this series − probably one of the most important for me. The problem I discuss in it, the problem of dealing with the effects of rape or sexual harassment after many years, is something extremely difficult and tedious, with no simple answers or easy solutions. Will Aemond be able to look at Wright naked? Will he ever let her ride him? In my opinion − no. Some things are too difficult, too painful and you don't want to experience them again. However, would this be a reason for them to despair? I don't think so − that their joy will be an intimacy that is unique to them, their own, with their own rules that suit them, that make them feel safe and comfortable. I don't know if it's possible to heal from trauma − this is a question for experts, which I am not − but I know that it can be alleviated, with the help of a loved, understanding person, to push it so far to the back of the mind that it will finally stop interfering with everyday life, to regain balance.

So despite the fact that Aemond remains partially powerless about his own weaknesses and memories, I consider this ending to be very happy, because in my opinion he is like that too − before Wright he was unable to bear the thought that any woman could touch him in any way, and there comes a point where having sex with her is something pleasant, wanted and safe. Full of respect and love.

Thank you all for such a warm reception of this series.

_____

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

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

[flowerandblood]

Glass Cuts Deepest Masterlist

[ professor! • Aemond x student! • female ]

[ warnings: sex content, oral sex, fingering, smut, angst, trauma, desription of rape, panic attacks, mention of sexual harassment, violence, swearing, self-destructive behavior ]

[ description: A female painting student is finally able to choose the specialisation she has dreamt of - stained glass. She wants to become a student of the best specialist in this field, but he, for some reason, refuses to accept female students into his workshop. She finds out that he once slapped a female student of one of the other professors. Nevertheless, she makes an attempt to find out what happened then and to convince him to teach her. Slow burn, sexual tension, dark, agressive Aemond, great childhood traumas. ]

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12 - Part 13 - Part 14 - Epilogue

Headcanons after Series

Series Moodboard

Series Aemond Photo Edit

Heroine Sketches Example

Works of art used in story

[flowerandblood]

Glass Cuts Deepest (13)

[ professor! • Aemond x student! • fem!reader]

[ warnings: sex content, smut, kissing, fluff, angst, trauma, panic attack, mention of rape, indecent student-teacher relationship ]

[ description: A female painting student is finally able to choose the specialisation she has dreamt of - stained glass. She wants to become a student of the best specialist in this field, but he, for some reason, refuses to accept female students into his workshop. She finds out that he once slapped a female student of one of the other professors. Nevertheless, she makes an attempt to find out what happened then and to convince him to teach her. Slow burn, sexual tension, dark, agressive Aemond, great childhood traumas. ]

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

Previous and next chapters: Masterlist

_____

After what had happened between them, after she had come on his hand once again that night, he had told her that he wanted to wait a few days with another intimate close-up to calm down and sort everything out in his mind.

She responded with complete understanding to his needs and concerns knowing that what had happened between them had been a turning point for him. That now he needed the space to accept the idea that she might have participated in his fulfilment, that he had experienced pleasure with her and his sexuality might have been changed forever.

Her patience, gentleness and forbearance calmed him, giving him a sense that he had space, that he didn't have to rush with anything, that they weren't chasing after anything.

This realisation meant that when she came to stay with him at night, when they were lying in his bed in the evenings, he would kiss her, hug her and stroke her, never sparing her tenderness and words filled with affection, not letting her out of his arms.

He relentlessly craved her closeness, the smell and touch of her body, so she did not feel rejected by him.

He told her that he wanted her to be the only one to touch him from now on and not to bring relief to himself, he also expressed his wish that she would not touch herself either and that she would tell him when the tension became unbearable.

He wanted to have her exclusively.

She was shocked at how possessive he was, how jealous he was when she was talking to her colleagues during the workshop, suffering silently, having to watch her laugh and talk to other men when he needed her so much.

He surprised her during a tutoring session when he and Cregan showed them the basics of face painting, leaning over a colourless glaze from under which showed a stencil drawn in pencil. They demonstrated how to spread paint and patina, how to make brush strokes.

"These have to be sure, long brushstrokes, you can't repeat them or you'll wipe off everything you've painted before." Murmured their professor, with a light movement of his hand painting the outline of the face of the figure they saw on the stencil underneath. Then each of them on the test glasses was to repeat what he had shown them independently.

Even though she had learned the basics of painting on glass earlier, it was only after watching him do it that she understood what her mistakes were.

Their professor and Cregan circled around them, giving them instructions. She was having trouble getting the patina consistency right and thus her lines were not smooth and flowing. Cregan noticed this and wanted to approach her, but her professor preceded him.

"The paint is too thick. See?" He asked her softly, leaning over her shoulder, taking a second brush in his hand, diluting the paint, making a smooth, perfect motion on the glass leaving a soft, intense line.

She nodded, glancing up at him and their gazes met, she felt her heart thump hard smelling his addictive scent so close to her.

He grunted quietly, stepping back, embarrassed, and didn't approach her again, letting Cregan be the one to give her corrections.

She could see that he was struggling with himself, that on the one hand he knew this was the right thing to do, that he had to keep his distance, but on the other hand he suffered every day having her at his fingertips, wanting to share everything he knew with her, to tell her about what he was doing, what he was working on, and having to keep quiet.

She also knew that the time was approaching when he was due to give evidence in court and they couldn't afford for it to come out now that he himself was having an affair with his female student, as he would become completely untrustworthy.

They both became utterly committed to their relationship, after a week of being with him, sleeping alone in bed appeared to be her worst nightmare, as there was no more wonderful thing for her than waking up in the morning in his arms with her lungs filled with his scent.

After the workshop, they took to cutting glass from stencils, and her professor locked himself in his private studio where he painted in seclusion and silence.

They worked in a pleasant atmosphere, exchanging a few words with each other from time to time, concentrating, she was just leaning over one of the faces, trying to follow his instructions, painting it with a little better results, but she was not satisfied, so she wiped the whole thing off for the fifth time, starting from the beginning.

They all raised their gazes, surprised, when two men and a woman entered the room, in one of them she recognised their dean, his visitor dressed in a smart tailored suit, his hair pulled back, the woman behind him beautiful and elegant with long black hair tied in a bun, holding a tablet in her hand, looking like his assistant.

They looked like some kind of officials.

"Here we have the third stained glass workshop, run by Professor Targaryen, an eminent specialist in this field." The dean spoke, the man next to him looked around curiously, as if they were exhibits, the woman walked behind them, looking back as if she had forgotten something.

Cregan approached them, frowning his eyebrows, clearly not forewarned that anyone would disturb them, asking if he could help them with anything, the dean, however, dismissed him, saying that his friend and minister wanted to see what his Faculty looked like and that they had only come to have a look around.

Their professor must have heard the commotion, because he came out of his room and appeared a moment later in the entrance, concerned, and then almost collided with the woman who was about to leave and froze, pale, his eyes big, the woman stopped but skipped past him quickly, almost running out.

Something passed across his face that frightened her, some kind of pain and disbelief, fear and horror, shame, humiliation, rage, helplessness.

He stepped back after a moment and left, and she involuntarily followed him with a pounding heart, taking advantage of the fact that everyone was intrigued by the Minister. She heard his surprised, concerned voice a moment later.

"Where's Alys?"

She heard him in the men's room, vomiting, locked in one of the cubicles, coughing and breathing loudly, sounding like some terrified, wild animal.

"Professor." She mumbled terrified and heard him draw in a quick breath. He vomited again as she ran quickly to the door and knocked on it.

"Please. Please, please, open." She whined in a pathetic, squeaky voice on the verge of crying, subconsciously understanding what had happened, who he saw.

He didn't move, just continued to breathe loudly.

"Is it her? Just tell me, is it her?"

His loud, miserable, broken sobs answered her.

She stormed out of the university building, looking around the car park, spotting her from a distance standing by one of the cars, a beautiful, modern, silver Mercedes.

She was smoking a cigarette, shaken, talking to someone on the phone. She moved towards her driven by adrenaline, hearing only a few sentences when she was close to her.

"− how was I supposed to know he would be here? − fuck − he wanted to visit a fucking friend during the campaign −" She heard her nervous, shaky, low voice.

She snatched the phone from her hand and threw it to the ground driven by some sudden, aggressive emotion and rage, trembling all over.

"− what is the meaning of this?! − I'm going to call the police right now! −" She growled furiously, and she thought with disgust that she could have been his mother.

She no longer seemed so beautiful to her.

"− go on − maybe you could tell them a bit about how you like to rape underage boys −" She said in a trembling voice, realising she had a bookbinding knife in her trouser pocket. She pressed her lips together, pulling it out and sliding the blade out, seeing the horror in her eyes.

Good, she thought.

Be afraid.

Be afraid, just like he was then.

"− you're fucking mental − help! −" She yelled, but fell silent immediately as she approached her, with a trembling hand pulling the blade closer to her stomach, there were cars covering them on either side, so nothing could be seen from a distance.

"− nobody helped him then, right? −" She asked in a breaking voice, and she snorted, as if she hadn't heard a sillier thing.

"− I have no idea what you're talking about, do you understand? − you've mistaken me for someone else −" She continued to deny, but her face, her trembling voice showed that she knew exactly what she meant.

For some reason she felt like crying, seeing her, smelling her scent, wondering if he had smelled it too when she had done this to him.

"− you know exactly what I'm talking about −" She said dryly, thinking to herself that it didn't make sense, that she would never admit to anything.

That this isn't a movie where the villain reveals his evil plan.

She shook her head in disbelief, looking at her with tears in her eyes. She lowered her blade and shrugged her shoulders.

"− you destroyed his life −" She said with painful regret, putting the knife in her pocket, walking back into the university building, hearing the woman behind her fall to the ground, panting heavily, grabbing quickly for her phone.

She thought she would feel heroic, that she would feel satisfaction, but nothing of the sort happened.

She felt like throwing up herself.

She stopped as the figure of her professor rose up in front of her as if from under the ground, his hand gripping her arm tightly.

"What have you done?" He asked coldly, dryly, low, in his eyes a fury she had never seen before. She just shook her head, not knowing what to answer, and he pressed his lips together.

"Who the fuck let you interfere? Hm?" He growled, the students around them stopped, horrified, looking at them in disbelief, she felt tears under her eyelids, her whole body was trembling.

"Don't touch me." She mumbled, pushing him away from her, running to the toilet, locking herself in and bursting into loud sobs.

What was she thinking?

That she would be a heroine like in the movies, save him, make the villain get caught and answer for his actions?

What she had done could only cause more trouble, she knew now that they were close and she could use that against him.

Follow them, find out that she was having a sleepover with him, that he was having an affair with his student and destroy him out of fear.

She thought she had to stay away from him now, that she couldn't be with him.

She wanted to be his medicine, the person who would save him, because it's such a great feeling when someone is grateful to you and loves you so much, when you feel so special.

She felt ashamed at the thought of how selfish she had been.

She sat down on the cold tiles in one of the cubicles and cried in silence, feeling that no matter how much she wanted to make it work everything was falling apart in her hands.

She heard the sound of a door opening and loud footsteps, followed by a quiet knock on her cabin. She shuddered, breathing loudly, terrified to see his boots from below. She saw that he had knelt down.

"I'm sorry. Okay? I'm sorry." He muttered, and she felt her heart squeeze at his breaking tone of voice, tears streaming down her face.

"− the sight of her − I − and you talking to her − I was furious − I need you − please −" He mumbled in an increasingly shaky, high-pitched tone of voice, she pressed her lips together feeling the pain spilling over her body, his hand slipped under the door and she squeezed it quickly, bursting into a loud sob.

"− I'm sorry − I wanted to protect you − not to be that person who doesn't react − but I guess I just ruined everything − I shouldn't have done that, I'm so sorry −" She sobbed in shame and they both cried like that, sitting on either side of the door, breathing unevenly, squeezing each other's hands tightly.

They heard someone come inside so she quickly opened the cabin for him to hide in, closing the door behind them.

They waited looking at each other with faces puffed up from tears until the girl who had come in washed her hands. When they heard her leave, she felt his hands turn her against the wall with her back to him, sliding to the fastening of her trousers, undoing her button and zipper.

"Slide them down along with your panties." He instructed in a quiet, hoarse voice, and she obeyed his command without question, her trembling hands lowering the material of her underwear, feeling her insides pulsate at the sound of him unfastening his belt.

He was desperate, she could feel it.

He didn't think straight, he acted instinctively.

Maybe it would be better this way, she thought.

"Lean forward." He said dryly, and she did so without a word, hugging her hot cheek to the cold tiles, wondering with a hard beating heart if he really intended to do this.

"− I need it − okay? − fuckin' need it −" He mumbled out, as if trying to explain to her why this sudden rush, this desperation, his hand on her bare hip.

She parted her lips wide, drawing in air loudly as she felt the tip of his manhood inside her, pushing her apart delightfully, her fleshy walls resisting him.

"− oh fuck −" He groaned, clamping his hands on her hips, making her spread her thighs wider in front of him, forcing his swollen cock deeper inside her.

She mewled loudly and he hushed her, his manhood throbbing hard, like her he hadn't experienced fulfillment in days, relentlessly aroused by her presence.

"− quiet − want to get caught? − hm? −" He asked low, sliding completely into her with a sigh of relief, as if that was exactly what he needed right now.

The feeling that she and what had happened to him didn't matter, that he could take what he wanted, that she no longer had power over him.

She had a feeling that it wasn't a sexual act for him, that he was looking deep inside her for concealment, fulfilment and solace, that he was driven by pure instinct, the natural reflexes that his own body told him when he looked at her.

They both began to pant loudly as his hips with intense, rapid thrusts began to explore her core, with each movement stretching her hot, wet muscles apart, his thighs slapping against her buttocks with a loud click of her moisture, his tip rubbing her where she needed it.

"− oh, yes −" She gasped in relief, having waited for this for so long, feeling him throb hard inside her at her words, speeding up, fucking her with aggressive, sure, quick thrusts, panting along with her.

"− do you like it? − like it when your professor fucks you good? −" He hissed, clenching his fingers on the soft skin of her hips, stretching her interior to the limit, his thrusts rough and deep, she was unable to think of anything else but how wonderfully filled she felt, how his every move teased her and made her spasm.

"− yes −" She mumbled, struggling to keep her balance in that position, resting her cheek and warm palms on the cold tiles in front of her. She mewled quietly when she felt his fingers on her clit, teasing her with sure, circular strokes accompanied by lewd clicks of her moisture.

"− yes, what? −" He growled, something of a threat in his voice that sent shivers down the back of her neck, she felt the heat in her lower abdomen, her walls involuntarily clenching against him greedily, the pace of his thrusts so fast that she found it difficult to get anything more out of herself than panting.

"− yes, professor −" She gasped, and he groaned low at the word, she felt him pulsing hard inside her, his fingers teased her bud with sure, soft movements, rubbing her wonderful point from the inside with each of his thrusts, making her less and less in touch with reality, thinking only of the fact that she could feel the heat rising in her lower abdomen as her fulfilment approached.

"− that's what Adam did to Eve − his sin − then, under the Tree of Knowledge − he fucked her −" He exhaled into her ear, leaning over her, his words sent a shiver of pleasure and heat through her, his fingers clenching tighter on the skin of her thigh, forcing her to let him inside her as deeply as possible, not letting her escape.

She stifled the moan that forced itself down her throat listening between the loud slaps of flesh against flesh to hear if anyone had entered inside, sensing that she was about to come, unable to get anything more out of herself than moans and whimpers.

"− made to warm my cock −" He cooed admiringly, clearly taking pleasure in how hot and tight her core was, she felt his words between her thighs, clenching tightly against him.

"− fuck − m' gonna cum − where I −" He mumbled, pulsing harder and harder inside her, thrusts of his hips quick, messy and sloppy.

"− inside me − m' takin pills − please −" She mumbled helplessly, thanking God she hadn't stopped taking them after breaking up with her ex-boyfriend, just dreaming of him coming inside her, filling her with himself.

She heard his moan of pleasure, his hand clenching on the skin of her hip, hot and sweaty, his other hand teasing her between her thighs, his cock throbbing intensely as his hot semen spilled deep inside her.

"− God, yes − baby − oh, fuck −" He babbled, tilting his head back, moving inside her for a while, unable to stop.

She heard his loud groan as she came at last, a wave of tickling pleasure shook her body, leaving her unsure for a moment where she was or what was happening to her, panting loudly with him.

They both just breathed heavily for a moment, unable to calm down, their bodies hot and sticky, throbbing with bliss.

"− are you okay? −" She heard his quiet, trembling voice, as if he only now realised what they had done, shocked. She nodded quickly, swallowing hard, breathing heavily.

"− yes − and you? −" She asked, terrified of whether he would regret it. She felt him lean in, his forehead pressed against the top of her head.

"− I − fuck − it feels so good to be inside you − doesn't want to take it out −" He muttered, and she hummed under her breath, stroking his hand clenched on her hip.

"We can stay like this for a while longer if you want." She whispered, and he just leaned in and kissed her neck, trying to calm his breathing.

They continued like that in silence for a while, hearing someone come in and out of the toilet again, his arms embracing her from behind, his lips rising to her ear as they were alone again.

"I love you." He whispered embarrassedly and she swallowed loudly, feeling the heat in her lower abdomen, her heart pounding like crazy.

I love you.

She wanted to cry.

She wanted to cry because it occurred to her that she reciprocated his feelings.

"Will you come with me to the rector?"

______

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess

[flowerandblood]

Glass Cuts Deepest (7)

[ professor! • Aemond x student! • female ]

[ warnings: fingering, smut, masturbation, kissing, fluff, angst, trauma, mention of rape, indecent student-teacher relationship ]

[ description: A female painting student is finally able to choose the specialisation she has dreamt of - stained glass. She wants to become a student of the best specialist in this field, but he, for some reason, refuses to accept female students into his workshop. She finds out that he once slapped a female student of one of the other professors. Nevertheless, she makes an attempt to find out what happened then and to convince him to teach her. Slow burn, sexual tension, dark, agressive Aemond, great childhood traumas. ]

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

Previous and next chapters: Masterlist

_____

She wasn't sure she had ever seen anyone in her life as embarrassed, shocked and ashamed of their behaviour as her professor had been when they and Cregan had breakfast together in the hotel restaurant.

Cregan talked with vivid interest about how he imagined the end result of her work, and she nodded with a smile pretending to listen to him, she and her professor throwing each other quick glances once in a while and immediately turning their faces away.

She couldn't stop thinking about what had happened during the night, what he had confessed to her.

His warm, wet lips on her neck.

And then his whisper.

Mine.

She felt throbbing between her thighs again, the immense discomfort caused by a tension that she hadn't had time to get rid of on her own.

His declaration made her realise that she was attracted to him too, that it was not without reason that she felt her hands trembling and her heart pounding in his presence.

She swallowed loudly at the thought that before he had left in the morning and returned to his room through the balcony he had asked her not to tell anyone about it.

He had been horrified at the thought that it might have come out and she was not at all surprised at him.

Nevertheless, he had also made it clear that what he had done and said was not just out of a need to satisfy his physical urges, but something more, and that although he, like her, could not name it, they had agreed to 'talk' about it again in the evening in her room when they had cooled down a little.

It was for this reason that she tried with all her might to act as if nothing had happened, talking lightly only to Cregan.

The three of them drove to the church after breakfast to check on the progress of the work, and she was delighted to see that the first quarters in the left-hand window with the figures of the apostles were already installed.

It looked amazing, better than she had imagined, and she thought with a fast-beating heart that she couldn't wait to see the final result tomorrow. They chatted for a while to the technicians who said everything was going smoothly and the measurements matched.

The bishop himself came to meet them, he was a rather plump man with glasses, closer to her grandfather's age than her father's, signet rings glittering on his fingers, a large, richly decorated gold cross on his chest. When he saw her he laughed good-naturedly.

"Ah, so this is the famous female student who broke into the male convent!" He burst out laughing under his breath and, to her surprise, extended his hand to her, so she shook it; he then made the same gesture to her professor and Cregan.

Father Bishop sighed heavily, placing his hands on his broad sides, watching the progress of the work with satisfaction.

"It already looks very good. Even better than on the design. I'm looking forward to the final result. So, Professor, are you proud of your student?" He asked him tauntingly, she saw Professor Targaryen cast her a quick, horrified look, swallowing hard.

She knew what he was thinking of, she knew he was imagining how he had brushed his lips against the skin of her neck a few hours earlier, listening to her sighs of pleasure.

"Yes. I am." He replied matter-of-factly, glancing at him quickly.

Father Bishop raised his eyebrows, nodding approvingly, then began talking to him and Cregan about another project they were working on for him.

She could feel her heart pounding hard. She had a feeling that her whole body felt strangely warm, she couldn't stop the gentle smile that pushed at her lips.

Despite what she had feared, she felt happy.

His approach, his respect that she hadn't expected from him, his calmness and tenderness made her want to give a chance to this feeling that fluttered in her stomach like a butterfly.

She wanted to see what would happen next.

However, these thoughts were followed by another one, which crushed her like a big stone.

I was raped by a woman when I was 16.

She swallowed with difficulty, feeling a tightening in her stomach as she looked at her fingers, playing with them in a nervous gesture.

He trusted her, probably fell in love with her, and she knew he didn't expect her to be with him out of compassion. She was terrified of the ease with which she could hurt him, make him close himself off again.

What also frightened her was how strong desire he had awakened in her, that she had been feeling the tension all day and wasn't sure she would have time to relieve herself before he came to her in the evening.

She thought that just as men hold back and make an effort for their girlfriends who say they are not ready yet, that they want to wait, she needed to make an effort too, to give him space and not talk about it, not give him the feeling that he should hurry up, that she was counting down the time until he met her needs.

He needed to feel that he meant something more to her than sex and that thought filled her with what kind of tenderness.

She wanted to mean something more to him too.

This thought seemed to comfort her and she decided that she would hold out for him and let him explore touch at the rate he needed.

She knew what a big deal what had happened between them had been for him, she could see it in his gaze when he glanced nervously over his shoulder at her, stroking his chin involuntarily.

He himself was in shock.

She smiled at him lightly, and he swallowed hard before turning away quickly, pale as if he was about to faint.

She lowered her gaze, amused, thinking that they were acting like a couple of teenagers in high school who had no idea what they were doing, so they just held hands and gave each other innocent kisses.

For some reason it made her want him even more.

She knew he was her professor, she knew it was immoral, but she couldn't help herself.

She was attracted to him as a person and as a men, she craved his attention, wanted to know who he was inside.

What he had shown her was proof to her that his aggression was merely a defensive measure, a way in which he could cut himself off from the world that frightened him so much.

Father Bishop invited them to his curia for tea and cakes.

She had the impression that she was just attending some aristocratic, elevated afternoon tea. Dressed as usual in a black t-shirt tucked into black high-waisted trousers, she felt that, like her professor and Cregan, also dressed all in black, she did not fit in with this palatial interior full of gold and glamour.

She looked at Cregan with amusement and he winked at her in understanding. She turned away from him after a moment with a smile and met her professor's frustrated gaze directed at her.

She swallowed loudly at the thought that he might have considered that she was trying to play both sides.

She shuddered when she heard Father Bishop's voice addressed in her direction.

"And how do you find working under Professor Targaryen? Is he treating you well?" He asked jokingly, giggling under his breath.

She looked at her professor and saw that he had rubbed the tip of his nose with his hand, his lips twitched in concern, he was not looking at her.

He was afraid of what she would answer.

She decided she would tell the truth.

"Professor Targaryen is very strict, but he can also appreciate hard work. He treats each of his students equally and has clear rules that he guards about which he himself follows. I am learning a lot thanks to him and I am grateful to him for giving me the chance." She said warmly, smiling sincerely, Cregan nodded his head acknowledging that this was a very nice and kind answer.

She glanced at her teacher and saw that he was looking at her with some kind of uncertainty, his lips tightened, in his gaze some sort of warmth and longing.

He wanted to touch her.

She could see it in the way he rubbed his fingers against each other, the way his chest rose and fell restlessly, and she felt that pleasant yet painful sensation between her thighs again, had the feeling that she had been wet because of him all day and it was getting increasingly worse.

She looked away from him and grunted quietly, ashamed of her thoughts and what was happening to her. Father Bishop nodded his head in amazement, as if he had not expected such a warm response from her.

"What can I say, tomorrow we will all see the final result of your project and I am looking forward to it myself." He said lightly and clapped his hands contentedly.

They drove back to the hotel in silence, but she knew everyone was in a good moods. She saw her professor glancing at her in the mirror, surely already thinking the same thing as she was.

They agreed to give themselves a few hours to shower and to get changed after a long day.

She took advantage of this to lie on the bed on her stomach as soon as she returned and unzipped her trousers, seeking relief with her hands after a day full of tension, moaning into her pillow, feeling that her whole womanhood was swollen, hot and wet.

With sure, circular motions of her fingers around her clit, imagining his lips on her neck while he took her from behind, whispering as he did then how good and beautiful she was she came with a sigh of relief, feeling the wonderful throbbing and tickling of pleasure spreading throughout her body in long waves.

She came down slowly from her peak, feeling suddenly lighter, and lay like that for a while in silence. After a few minutes, she got up lazily and took a quick shower, after which she dried her hair and waited for him, sitting in the same pyjamas as the day before, browsing news portals on her phone.

She shuddered when she heard a quiet knock on her window and rose with her heart beating hard, running to her balcony door. She opened it and saw to her surprise that he was dressed in a black t-shirt and black sweatpants.

He wanted to sleep in her room again.

She swallowed loudly at the thought, excited and ashamed at the same time and smiled at him, letting him in, her room lit only by the night lamp standing on a small table next to her bed.

She sat down on her bedding and saw that he had stopped in the middle of the room, looking somewhere to the side, tense, breathing unevenly, rubbing his fingers against each other again in a nervous gesture.

He didn't know what he should do, feeling embarrassed about what he wanted, what he had come for.

"It's okay. Sit down." She said softly, patting a spot on the bed a safe distance away.

He swallowed loudly and hummed under his breath, sitting down next to her, placing his hands on his stomach, looking ahead, biting his lower lip in thought, clearly unable to look at her.

"If you want, I'll leave." He said suddenly in a serious, matter-of-fact voice, looking somewhere to the side with furrowed brows. She blinked, surprised, feeling a squeeze in her heart.

"I don't want to. Even though I know it reflects badly on me." She said the last sentence uncertainly, lowering her gaze, fiddling with the fabric of the duvet she was sitting on.

She felt him glance at her, surprised by her words, and he chuckled helplessly, scratching his cheek with his thumb.

"On you? I'm the one pushing myself into my own student's bed." He said with regret and pain. She knew it was hard for him with how he felt, that he knew deep down that it was wrong.

She pressed her lips together, sighing quietly, lowering her gaze, not knowing how to comfort him herself.

"I don't take it that way. I mean…what I said about you today is true. I don't think that – unlike other professors – you would treat me better or more kindly than my colleagues – and I don't want that either." She said softly, running her fingers over the fabric of the quilt lying in front of her.

She saw that he was looking at her hand out of the corner of his eye, sitting silently like a statue, the warm light of the night-lamp enveloping his face.

He lowered his gaze and hummed quietly, as if agreeing with her assumptions.

She knew that the last thing he wanted was to take advantage of her sexually.

That his need for closeness and touch came from something completely different.

She let the air out through her nose with a soft puff and held out her hand to him. She saw him glance at her out of the corner of his eye, tense, and swallow loudly, hesitating inside.

He twitched uncertainly and then squatted a little closer to her, still sitting up as he took her hand in his, stroking it with his thumb.

They played with each other's fingers in subtle, innocent gestures, brushing the skin of each other's palms and he watched this with a thoughtful, blank look. She knew he wanted to say something and didn't know how to put it into words. He clenched his jaw and parted his lips with wet click.

"You and Cregan. What is that about?" He asked with some hint of coldness and uncertainty, his voice quivering as he phrased his question, as if he was simultaneously ashamed and afraid of what he would hear.

She swallowed loudly, looking at him in pain, remembering his disgruntled gaze from afar every time she spoke to Stark, when they laughed and discussed together.

She decided she would tell him the truth.

"I like him a lot. He has been a huge support to me in difficult times. He's a good friend and a good teacher." She said softly, shrugging her shoulders, feeling her heart pounding fast, and he stiffened all over, something in her answer causing him pain.

He didn't answer, playing with her fingers involuntarily, looking at their hands with a blank stare.

She thought in disbelief that he was jealous.

"However, if he were the one to ask if he could touch my cheek or grab my hand, I would refuse him. I have no desire to be close to him in that way." She said quietly, embarrassed, feeling that her cheeks were burning red. She felt that he looked at her, that he was analysing her words.

A shiver ran down her spine as she felt his hand cup her cheek in a gentle gesture, turning her face towards him. She only managed to see his hazy, hot gaze, and then his warm, soft, swollen lips were pressed against hers in a tender, sticky, tentative kiss.

She sighed quietly, feeling him tremble as he pulled away from her for a moment to look at her, to see any sign that she wanted him to stop. She, however, only breathed unevenly, unable to get anything out, looking at him pleadingly.

"− please −" She whispered, placing her hand on his, stroking his skin with her thumb, his hot, excited breath enveloping her face.

He leaned in again, this time invading her lips more confidently with the wet click of their saliva, penetrating the fleshy structure of her mouth with unbridled curiosity, she heard him purr with delight each time he pulled away to take a breath in only to sink into the warmth of her lips again.

He sighed as she began to shyly reciprocate his kisses, not wanting to startle or frighten him, keeping her hand on his wrist, restraining herself with the rest of her strength not to touch him, focusing only on the wonderful sensation, his scent filling her nose, his closeness, his lips gently brushing hers with each sticky kiss.

She felt the tension between her thighs again, felt herself getting wet, her insides clenching and pulsing wonderfully in pleasure.

He pulled away suddenly, looking at her at once delighted, frightened and ashamed, backing off slowly, stroking her cheek with his hand that she held in her fingers.

She smiled at him involuntarily, and he furrowed his brows, thinking apparently that she was mocking him, that she considered his kisses to be the attempts of an inexperienced young boy rather than a grown men.

"I feel like when I was in high school, when my female friends would hide in the toilets with their boyfriends during breaks to kiss them for at least a moment, to have a moment of privacy. It feels so good." She said softly, and he swallowed loudly with some kind of relief at the thought that she didn't mean what he suspected.

She felt throbbing between her thighs once more.

She and her professor were kissing like a couple of teenagers.

"And you…what experience do you have? In relationships." He asked uncertainly, not knowing how to bite on the subject, his free hand stroking his chin in a nervous gesture.

She lowered her gaze, feeling a squeeze in her heart, silent for a moment. She didn't want to talk about it, but on the other hand, he had told her about what had happened to him and she felt he deserved the same.

"I have only been in one serious relationship, but it was serious only for me. At the time I thought I was very much in love, but now I think I didn't love the real man, but my idea of him. He was with me and I think he cared about me in some way, but he still loved the girl he was with before." She started and glanced at him, saw that he was looking at her intently, breathing unevenly, his fingers trailing over her hand.

He was really listening to her.

"I think she was simply the love of his life. I saw it in the look in his eyes when we were on a class trip and he picked a flower from a bush and slipped it into her hair. That's when something inside me snapped, and even though he told me it didn't mean anything, I knew I was just a substitute." She said quickly, swallowing hard, feeling tears under her eyelids, knowing that he would probably think she was just another stupid idiot who doesn't even see when a men doesn't want her.

He, however, moved restlessly, running his thumb over his lips, and she saw that he was looking at her intensely.

"He took everything from you even though he knew he would never give you the same thing in return." He said dryly and she blinked rapidly, clenching her eyelids, thinking only of not crying, not thinking of her giving him her first time and her first kiss, of her believing him when he said that with her he wanted to start over, that those things were just an unpleasant past.

She wondered if he had imagined when he made love to her that it was his ex-girlfriend who lay beneath him, not her, and she felt involuntary tear after tear run down her cheeks.

She let go of his hand and stood up abruptly, walking to the bathroom, throwing over her shoulder that she needed to calm down, that she would be right back.

"Wait." He said frightened, getting up quickly, grabbing her wrist, towering over her with accelerated breath. She stared at the material of his black t-shirt, tightening her lips, breathing in pain.

He lifted her hands and with a slow motion placed them on his chest, holding them in his own so that she made no other move. She could feel his heartbeat beneath the black material and lifted her surprised gaze to him. His breathing was uneven, he was looking at her with sadness and fatigue.

"For me, you are like Eve in Eden, who appeared beside me as a godsend." He whispered in a trembling voice, his eyebrows arched in pain.

She looked at him in disbelief, feeling her heart squeeze at his words, heat spilling over her body at this comparison, so intimate, spiritual and yet filled with pure human desire.

"The same Eve who brought Adam his downfall?" She asked in a trembling voice. He smirked and chuckled under his breath, stroking her hands with his thumbs.

"Are we sure she was to blame? Maybe it was Adam who brought the fall on her. Maybe Adam and Satan were the same person. Maybe the fruit the Bible speaks of was between her lips −" He breathed out, catching her by the nape of her neck, pressing into her lips with certainty that surprised her, her core pulsing hard at his choice of words, at what he was doing, at how dark and lewd his thoughts were.

She clamped her hands on the material of his t-shirt reciprocating his kisses with sweet devotion and he purred loudly, delighted to feel her in this intimate way, his lips hot, swollen and moist.

She knew she could not touch him except in the way he himself allowed her to.

"− maybe the juice of that fruit was on her tongue −" He exhaled in a trembling voice, one hand holding her wrists, the other clenched in her hair, kissing her deeply and passionately, tasting her saliva every time the tip of his tongue timidly licked hers.

She felt like she was going to die of arousal, the pulsing between her thighs was becoming unbearable, she could feel her underwear all wet, her legs were trembling.

"− or deep between her thighs −" He breathed out, and she moaned in surprise as she felt his free hand painfully slowly slide down between her legs, his fingers tentatively running over the material of her shorts, teasing the spot that was making her head spin.

"− oh God −" She mumbled into his mouth, involuntarily moving her hips in rhythm with his strokes, clasping her hands tightly on his shirt, feeling her hard nipples begin to peek through from under her top, she could hear them both panting, overwhelmed by the frenzy of this sudden, intimate rapture.

"− tell me to stop −" He breathed out into her mouth, not speeding up his movements, squeezing the place where she so needed him with his fingers, but through the material it wasn't enough, she sobbed helplessly feeling that she was about to explode with arousal.

"− please − please − please, touch me there −" She mewled and heard him draw in the air loudly, pressing his forehead against hers, panting heavily along with her, looking at her with a dark, hot gaze.

"− are you sure? −" He asked in a trembling voice, and she nodded.

She looked at him with misty eyes as he brushed lightly against her lips, as if he wanted to reassure her, raising his hand slowly, uncertainly slipping his fingers under the material of her shorts. They both panted into each other's mouths as they felt his hand wander down and cried out loudly when they finally felt how wet she was.

"− oh fuck − God − you're leaking −" He gasped in a trembling voice as if he had made a startling discovery that he had completely not expected. She moaned in response to every stroke of his fingers, involuntarily seeking his lips again, no longer knowing what to do with the tension she felt, agonised and desperate.

"− please − up there − gently − oh, God, yes −" She whined into his mouth when she felt him find her clit, sensing her reaction he began to tease her with the movements of his hand, bringing her to spasms, she felt like she was about to cry out in delight.

"− yes − please − forgive me − please − please − please −" She mumbled at the same time ashamed that after what had happened to him she was begging him to give her fulfilment, on the other hand hearing how much he liked what he was seeing, his tongue invading between her lips with his sighs of satisfaction.

"− indeed your skin there is like the flesh of a fruit − sticky, soft and wet − fuck, you'll let me taste you there one day, won't you? − let me taste the forbidden fruit with my tongue −" He gasped out pushing his tongue into her mouth, licking her and she parted her lips feeling that his words had just brought her to her peak.

She clenched her eyes shut and sobbed loudly, coming hard on his hand, lifting and falling on his fingers, only hearing him mumble into her mouth "oh God"; "oh baby"; "so much flowed out from you"; "oh fuck".

She had a feeling that if he hadn't slid his free hand from her hair to her back and pressed her against his chest, she would have just slumped down, quivering all over, her legs soft and numb, wonderful, tickling waves of heat spilling over her body.

He let her go and locked himself in the bathroom, and she moved towards her bed and lay down on it, breathing loudly, feeling wonderfully warm and relaxed, thinking only of the fact that she had never come so hard before.

He swallowed loudly, sliding his fingers out from under the material of her shorts, she could feel what was happening in his trousers, how intensely he throbbed, how hard he was.

"− I − I'm going to go wash my hands − okay? − I'll be right back −" He whispered in a trembling voice, kissing her hair with tenderness, and she only nodded her head incapable of any other meaningful response.

She heard him turn on the water, which flowed and flowed and flowed. She knew it was all taking too long, she knew he was just bringing his own relief with his hand, knowing he wouldn't last after what he saw.

She knew he wasn't ready for her to touch him like this, but it pleased her how much he wanted her, how in her presence he was opening himself up to touch and sensation, including that experienced by her.

She heard after a few minutes that he had indeed started to wash his hands, and after a while he turned off the water and left her bathroom, turning off the light, there was more colour on his face than usual and he was unable to look at her. She smiled at the sight, happy and calm for some reason.

She heard him walk over to the bedside lamp and turn it off, and after a moment he lay down behind her as he had the day before, putting his arm around her.

"Is everything okay? Do you feel well?" He asked quietly, she could feel how shaky he was, she recognised that they both couldn't believe what had happened.

"Yes, and you?" She asked just as quietly, stroking his hand, wanting to be sure that he didn't regret what he'd done, that he didn't feel any discomfort or unpleasant memories came back to him.

He was silent for a long moment, lying with his face snuggled into her hair.

"I haven't felt better in years."

____

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess

[flowerandblood]

Glass Cuts Deepest (12)

[ professor! • Aemond x student! • female ]

[ warnings: oral sex, fingering, smut, kissing, fluff, angst, trauma, mention of rape, indecent student-teacher relationship ]

[ description: A female painting student is finally able to choose the specialisation she has dreamt of - stained glass. She wants to become a student of the best specialist in this field, but he, for some reason, refuses to accept female students into his workshop. She finds out that he once slapped a female student of one of the other professors. Nevertheless, she makes an attempt to find out what happened then and to convince him to teach her. Slow burn, sexual tension, dark, agressive Aemond, great childhood traumas. ]

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

Previous and next chapters: Masterlist

_____

He fully realised how involved he already was in this relationship when he had to fall asleep alone in his bedroom after he returned home. His flat had never seemed so empty, so cold, so alien to him before. He realised that it didn't even have anyone's photos in it, no memorabilia, it was a place where he existed between work and nothing else.

He tried to do what he always did, made himself a cup of tea and turned on the TV to watch the news, read a book on catacomb painting he'd borrowed from Cregan, but still all he did, all he focused on, was glancing at his phone screen.

She hadn't texted him, nor had he texted her even though they had each other's phone numbers.

He himself didn't know how he felt about it, at the same time raging with desperation, opening the new message window several times to write her anything, to apologise for the scene he had done to her the day before or to wish her a good night, but each time he deleted everything, throwing the phone somewhere in a corner, heartbroken.

Perhaps she needed time to herself to think things through.

He had cornered her and not given her time to think, and she might not have really wanted that.

She might not have wanted to take on the kind of baggage he was carrying.

He went to bed with this thought and turned off the lamp, but he felt restless and uncomfortable. He got up twice and checked that the front door was locked, just in case, then went back and laid under his duvet, but the feeling remained in him.

The feeling that something was going to happen, that he would hear the sound of the door opening, as it did then, and see her on the doorstep.

He shuddered at the thought, clenching his eyes shut, dreaming only of Wright calling him, of telling him she missed him and wanted to see him, of coming to him and falling asleep beside him, making him feel safe.

She didn't call and he wriggled through the night, panicked, sad and tired. He gave up at four in the morning and took a shower, made himself a quick coffee in a thermos and drove to the university, deciding that he would rather use this time in some meaningful way.

He turned on all the lights and took a sheet of clear glass from his compartment, intending to cut it for his personal project, wanting to create a stained glass window for himself with Adam and Eve motif.

He wished to model himself on Dürer's copperplate, but changing it a little, softening the proportions of the figures, painting them in a slightly more mannerist form. He had no intention of giving the figures their faces, of course, however he found the work itself meaningful.

He shuddered when he heard someone come inside, despite the fact that there was still an hour left before classes started, and froze completely when he saw her standing in the aisle.

"Good morning." She said softly, warmth and happiness in her eyes at the sight of him from which he felt heat in his chest, he couldn't stop the shy smile that forced itself onto his lips.

He couldn't stop himself from kissing her as soon as she let him get close.

He found, despairingly, that her scent was enough to make him completely hard and he suffered through the day, watching her from the sidelines, witnessing the way she talked to her year mates, being able to get close to anyone but him.

As he spoke and noticed her gaze, he would lose the thread and have to quickly return his thoughts to what he had just talked about, embarrassed and ashamed that he had acted like a child.

The only thing that kept him sane was that she had agreed to come to him in the evening.

Despite the fact that he usually worked after hours, that afternoon he returned to his flat immediately after class, doing his shopping beforehand, recognising that he had to host her somehow and prepare something to eat.

He was also embarrassed to find that he should change the bedding for a clean one.

While doing this, all he could think about was what they were going to do on his bed when she came to him and he had a feeling his cock would just explode with arousal.

He didn't want to touch himself before she came though, he wanted to be desperate and on the edge of his endurance, he hoped that this would make him finally get over himself, that the lust would completely stupefy him and make him think of nothing else but fulfilment.

When at last she knocked on his door, when at last she stood on his threshold he felt apprehensive, realising that he had never invited anyone there before.

He let her in without a word, feeling his throat tighten. She was wearing a dress and nice long, white socks that he couldn't stop looking at, thinking only of the fact that he wanted to press her against the wall and slip his hand under her underwear, wondering if she was in the same state as him.

"If there's something wrong, I'll change, I took my things." Her worried voice snapped him out of his reverie and he looked at her surprised, not understanding what she was talking about, only realising after a moment that she thought he was looking at her like this because he found her outfit inappropriate.

"What? No, no. Come in. Are you hungry? I'm just heating up dinner." He said embarrassed at the direction his thoughts were running off in, deciding that she should at least eat something before he touched her, heading towards the kitchenette.

"Yeah, I'd love to." She said softly as she followed him, sitting down on the other side of the kitchen counter, looking intently at what he was doing.

He felt strangely tense, he'd never seen another human being in this space, much less a woman, he recognised that he hadn't spoken to one in so many years that he wasn't even sure how he should refer to her, not wanting to come across as a buffoon or a simpleton.

He knew he hadn't shown his best side to her before and he wanted to change that, but it only made him stress even more and say very little.

He almost choked, pulled out of his reverie when he heard her question while they ate.

"Where am I going to sleep?"

He looked at her in shock, thinking quickly about what he should answer, recognising that if he told her he wanted her to sleep in his bed it would immediately give away what he desired, perhaps putting her in an awkward position. He decided to get out of it somehow.

"…it's up to you. I can sleep on the couch." He said cautiously, watching her reaction, wanting to make sure she didn't think he was just a pervert who was only hoping for his student's young body to make his night more pleasant.

She meant so much more to him.

"What if I don't want you to sleep on the couch?" She asked quietly, looking up at him with her big, warm eyes.

God.

He reached quickly for his wine glass, taking a sip from it, feeling her question in his trousers. He set it down, looking at her intensely, wondering if she really wanted an answer to that question or was just teasing him.

Then we'll fuck, he thought.

"Will you show me your bedroom?" She asked softly, lightly, non-committally, and he swallowed loudly, wondering if she was doing it on purpose or if in her mind it was really just an innocent question that wasn't going to lead to anything more.

"Are you sure you want this?" He asked carefully, looking at her face, and she nodded. He pressed his lips together, gazing at her bare shoulders, the shape of her breasts outlining under her dress, and thought he couldn't take it anymore.

He stood up and glanced at her, waiting for her to move behind him.

He led her to one of the rooms to which the door was on the corridor and stepped inside, lighting the lamp standing by his bedside table, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye, feeling his heart pounding hard, his hands clenched into fists.

He felt his manhood pulsate painfully hard in his trousers as she unhurriedly laid on his bed with her stomach down, placing her cheek on his pillow, playing with the fabric of his sheets, not even looking at him. He looked down at her long legs and swallowed loudly, thinking that if he didn't touch her soon he would probably die.

He circled his bed, climbing onto it and kneeling behind her, having her legs between his thighs. He lifted the material of her dress up and exposed to him the bare, glistening skin of her buttocks, which were framed by pretty white lace panties. He placed his large hand on one of them and stroked it, feeling how soft and firm her skin was, her whole body tensing under his touch.

There was no turning back now, he thought.

He'd been thinking about it all night.

About how he wanted to do this.

He placed one hand next to her head while sliding the other across her stomach and squeezed her with his body, sighing along with her as he pressed his length hidden under the material of his trousers between her buttocks, rubbing against her, feeling a wonderful pulsing, his free hand brushing away her hair, kissing her neck with his warm lips.

They both drew in a loud breath as his hand under her belly slid lower, pulling up her dress, picking at the material of her panties, slipping his fingers underneath. He heard her moan helplessly, writhing beneath him as he touched her moisture, he involuntarily licked his lower lip, feeling how hard he was.

"− have you been this wet since you came in here? − or maybe since this morning? −" He gasped delightedly, trailing his lips along her soft skin, listening to her accelerated, erratic breathing, rubbing with the movements of his hips against her buttocks, making shivers come over him, her wonderful scent filling his nostrils.

"− it's your fault, professor −" She mumbled regretfully, and he felt her words between his thighs, his cock pulsed hard when she called him that, shamelessly using his academic title in such a situation, his fingers began to massage her in circular, sure motions around her clit, making her moans of pleasure grow louder and louder.

"− mine? − because I take care of my student's needs like any good professor in my position? −" He breathed out in her ear and smirked mischievously feeling how his movements were accompanied by a sticky click of her juices, both of them panting and moaning, her thighs involuntarily parting beneath him, allowing him better access.

"− I need this − please −" She mumbled with difficulty, clenching her hands on the fabric of his pillow. He groaned low, rubbing himself against her, feeling the heat in his lower abdomen at the thought of what he wanted to do.

"− I know −" He hummed, then slid the tip of his middle finger gently inside her, her walls hot, fleshy and sticky, tight, resisting him with his every gentle movement. He felt a powerful shudder pass through her, she cried out beneath him in pleasure, parting her lips, her body trembling under him.

"− shhh −" He hushed her, not letting her move, delighted that she was at his mercy, that he was touching her in such a way and it felt wonderful, not a trace of discomfort or bad memories in his mind.

"− please − ah − please − please −" She mewled pleadingly, he thought with tenderness that she was on the verge of orgasm, unable to get anything more out of herself, and he merely teased her, sliding his finger in and out of her, returning to her clit again after a while, not giving her what she needed.

"− please, what? − don't be disrespectful, title me properly −" He growled warningly, recognising that she had wanted this herself, she had wanted to play like this and now she had to suffer the consequences.

He heard her moan loudly at his words, her thighs trembling under his hand, his fingers all sticky from her moisture massaging her with a loud, lewd click.

"− please, professor − please, I've been waiting for this all day −" She mumbled, and he chuckled low, taking pity on her at last, seeing the state she was in, and slid his whole finger inside her, feeling how wonderfully hot and rough she was inside, her muscles clenched against him greedily.

He heard her gasp loudly, pressing her face against his pillow, her hips struggling to move in rhythm with his movements as he kissed her neck, her jaw, her cheek, her temple.

"− soaking wet for her professor − fuck − you're a very dedicated student, aren't you? −" He gasped in delight, literally fucking her with his finger, searching for the point inside her that he had read so much about on the internet, knowing that it should be somewhere above her entrance and realised that he had found it between her muscles when he heard her loud, surprised moan of pleasure, her lips parted wide, her eyes clenched as if in surprise and disbelief.

"− yes − God − yes, yes, please! −" She cried out pathetically, and a few of his movements were enough for her to cum on his fingers, her moisture spilling over his hand.

"− fuck − what a little mess you are −" He muttered with delight at her state, feeling how hard she came, fascinated with what he could do with her.

He groaned lowly feeling that he couldn't take it any more, that after what he had seen and felt he needed to finally relieve himself with his hand.

"− don't move − okay? −" He asked quickly, panting loudly along with her, lifting himself up and resting his body weight on his knees, unbuttoning his trousers and putting his hand under his boxers, with quick sure movements starting to jerk himself off, looking at her bare buttocks, at her wet underwear, at her face, at her trembling body.

Fuck, she was so pretty.

He knew he was going to cum soon, he could feel it.

"Can I kiss you there?" She asked softly, and he froze in mid-motion, panting heavily, thinking he'd overheard himself.

"What?"

He saw her open her eyes and press her lips together, playing with the fabric of his pillow, breathing unevenly.

"You could lie on your back and massage yourself, and I would kiss you there. I wouldn't touch you with my hands, just my lips and tongue. I've never done that before, so it would be our first time."

He stared at her in disbelief, breathing loudly, feeling his manhood pulsate hard in his hand at her words, at the thought that her sweet lips could touch him there, give him pleasure in such an intimate place. He thought, however, that he might inadvertently hurt her, and he would not forgive himself for that.

"− I − God - I don't know − I wouldn't want to hurt you − force you to do things like that, humiliate you −" He mumbled out struggling to put into words what he was feeling, he heard her move, shaking her head quickly, still not looking at him.

"− I want to try it − I'll tell you if it feels uncomfortable and you can do exactly the same − you don't feel bad when I kiss you, just when I touch you with my hands − I thought maybe this is our way to your fulfilment together −" She said softly, tenderly, and he felt he could come from just those words, from just imagining what she was talking about.

He felt horror and hope at the same time, he wanted her to do it, he wanted it to work, but he was afraid it would end up like the last time.

If she couldn't even touch his cheek, how could she touch him down there?

On the other hand, he realised that she was right, that they had kissed many times, but it was the touch of her hand that scared him.

Alys had never kissed him.

He swallowed loudly, looking at her uncertainly.

"−… will you tell me if there is something wrong? −" He asked in a voice trembling with emotion, and she nodded quickly.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck.

He let out a loud breath, burying his manhood in his boxers, laying down next to her on his back, leaning partially against the backrest, breathing loudly.

He swallowed hard, horrified when he saw her rise and move towards him, laying between his thighs, she didn't touch him, just looked at him expectantly.

"So?" She asked softly and he felt his cock pulsate impatiently, demanding at last the relief he craved, he was terrified and aroused, curious and uncertain, he felt his lips dry from exertion and licked them involuntarily with his tongue.

"If it goes wrong - what do I say?" He asked uncertainly, wanting to know how he was supposed to act if it was unpleasant after all, not wanting to hurt her with his sudden, aggressive response. She considered his words for a moment, lowering her gaze.

"− say 'slower' if you feel it's right but things are happening too fast, or 'faster' if it's too slow. If you feel bad say 'stop' and I'll pull away immediately −" She said calmly, and he felt relieved, sticking to these rules as something that could actually work, giving him a sense of security.

He thought that it might have gone too well for them.

"− and if I − you know −" He mumbled, and she smiled slightly, warmly, embarrassing him completely.

"− well − Eve was the first to taste the forbidden fruit, wasn't she? −" She asked softly, and he thought it was over, that with or without her mouth he had to come right now, because his cock would just explode in his boxers.

"− touch yourself as you always do and just say if what I'm going to do makes you uncomfortable − remember this is time for you and your pleasure −" She said calmly and he needed no more encouragement, on the verge of despair, slipping his hand back under the material of his boxers, tightening his fingers on his hard manhood, clenching his eyes in pleasure, jerking himself with sure up and down movements.

When he felt her lips on his sensitive skin he gasped and moaned, but thought with surprise that it was not unpleasant, more like a gentle tickle.

However, when after a moment he felt her lips and her tongue licking upwards to his tip he groaned louder, feeling a shiver of pleasure, her tongue was moist and rough, teasing him in a way that the touch of his own hand had never given him.

"− fuck −" He muttered, tilting his head back, panting heavily, massaging himself with increasing speed.

He stared at her in disbelief, seeing her leaning towards him with her eyes closed, mussing him with her lips, licking him with her tongue faster and more intensely, making him feel like he was just about to come on her face, his cock pulsing greedily in his hand.

He wasn't sure he'd ever seen a more perverted sight than her lips pressed to his swollen cock, dripping with his precum.

He parted his lips wider and gasped, surprised when she suddenly lifted higher and slid his tip between her lips, teasing and licking him with her tongue. He clenched his eyes shut, tilting his head back, feeling this incredibly gentle yet intense sensation, with an involuntary movement of his hips he pushed his length deeper into her throat, shuddering with arousal.

"− oh, God − please −" He mumbled out, horrified at how pleasurable this was and clenched his free hand in her hair, moving deep inside her mouth, feeling his whole body quiver in pleasure, just thinking about how warm and wet her throat was, how soft her lips were sucking him so intensely.

He thought that deep inside her he felt safe, he felt good, so wonderfully good.

"− faster − ah, fuck, squeeze me here −" He exhaled, grabbing her wrist quickly, tightening his hand with her fingers on his hard cock, showing her how she was supposed to squeeze him, her hand wonderfully soft and warm, giving him a much more pleasurable sensation than his own, jerking him with a sure, intense motion harmonising with the smooth movements of her lips, loud from the click of her saliva.

"− forgive me − fuck, 'm gonna cum −" He mumbled out surprised that his fulfilment was approaching so quickly, he felt it in his lower abdomen, and then he just cum in her mouth, panting heavily with pleasure, leaning forward, surprised at how hard he throbbed inside her, how his orgasm shook his body. He had never experienced anything like it before, and he felt completely stupefied by this wonderful, hot pleasure.

"− fuck − fuck, baby − oh my God −" He babbled with difficulty, clenching his eyes shut, breathing loudly, unable to stop himself from throbbing, listening as she bravely swallowed everything that came out of him.

He let go of her hand and hair, looking at her, and she immediately pulled away from him, sliding him out of her mouth with loud plop, breathing hard as he did, looking at him in disbelief.

He didn't know how any girl could look so innocent after sucking someone's cock.

He thought perhaps she was just a saint.

"− you are indeed my revelation −" He whispered embarrassedly, smiling involuntarily, feeling relieved, feeling free, because they had done it, succeeded, found a way for him to experience fulfilment with her, some point from which they could start.

He pulled her to him by the material of her dress, wanting to feel her close, now, immediately, and embraced her tightly, kissing the top of her head, feeling boundless gratitude for her sacrifice, that for her, too, this was the first time, and she was so brave, so good.

"Are you okay?" He whispered, and she nodded quickly, snuggling into him tighter.

They talked for a while longer, considering what to do next, whether she should move in with him. He respected her wishes and the fact that she preferred to keep her dorm room for now. He felt joy and peace when she said that she would be coming to stay with him overnight, that she would leave some of her belongings at his place.

That she would be there for him.

Just as he had promised, he let her study. After they both dressed in their pyjamas and lay down on his bed he snuggled into her, nuzzling his cheek against her soft breast hidden under the material of her t-shirt, her free hand combing through his hair as the other held the book she had just read, resting it on her raised thighs.

He muttered under his breath seeing what she was reading about, that she was preparing for an exam on the history of Renaissance art.

"Dürer?" He asked, running his pointing finger over her bare arm, and she nodded, turning the page, then went back to stroking his head.

"I'm working on a stained glass window right now, the design of which is based on his copperplate." He said softly, concentrating on how soft her skin felt under his fingers. He heard her move in curiosity, glancing up at him.

"What theme are you based on?" She asked excitedly, and he swallowed loudly, feeling embarrassed at how obvious his choice was.

"Adam and Eve." He whispered, pressing his lips together, waiting with a pounding heart for her reaction, wondering if she would see him as a desperate idiot.

He felt her hand freeze in the air only to surprise him as she hugged him tighter to her chest, placing her book on her stomach, embracing him with her other arm as well, leaning over him and kissing his hair. He murmured low, feeling hot in his heart at her reaction, her acceptance of how involved he was.

"They won't have our faces." He added lowly, and she giggled slightly, heartily, he felt butterflies in his stomach at that wonderful sound, at the thought that she was laughing because of him.

"Thank God my professor is so smart." She said with amusement, both mocking and praising him at the same time, and he snorted at her words, cuddling his face into her firm, soft breast, wonderfully warm, adjusting to the shape of his cheek.

He murmured quietly, turning his face and grasped her nipple hidden under the material of her shirt with his lips, sucking on it in a light, unhurried rhythm.

He heard her moan quietly, surprised, involuntarily pressing his head closer to her chest, clenching her thighs in a sudden surge of pleasure, stroking his hair.

"You promised." She muttered regretfully, alluding to the fact that he was going to let her study for her exam which was to take place in a few days. He hummed under his breath, rubbing her nipple with the tip of his nose.

"I promised I'd let you study when we were done."

_____

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess

[flowerandblood]

✨ Finished Series Masterlist ✨

[ Fanfiction Fanmade Content ]

List of my finished series with Aemond. I update this list on a regular basis. Only for 18+, minors please do not interract. Thank you.

Smut: 💦 | Angst: 💣 | Dark: 💀 | Fans favs: ✨ | Top rated: ⭐

Following, reblogging and commenting is always welcome. I'm trying my best to always reply to reblogs. If you want my direct answer, comment or send me messages and questions on my inbox.

✨ Modern Aemond Mini Series ✨

The Knight & The Judge 💦💣💀✨

[ modern Frollo • Aemond x Esmeralda • female ]

The Gate of Salvation 💦💣✨

[ young pope • Aemond x catholic • female ]

The Taste of Shame 💦💣⭐✨

[ dom!modern • Aemond x friend sister • female ]

Rage | Revenge | Relief 💦💣⭐✨

[ modern! • Aemond x stepsister! • female ]

The Pearl and The Sapphire 💦💣⭐

[ modern! • Aemond x Baratheon! • female ]

The Vanity and Variability 💦💣

[ Jane Austen • Aemond x Baratheon • female ]

Robbed and gifted 💦💣⭐✨

[ arranged marriage • modern!Aemond x female ]

The Golden Cage 💦💣💀⭐

[modern! mafia boss • Aemond x female ]

Wicked prayers, sweet penances 💦✨

[modern! priest • Aemond Targaryen x Strong female]

Girl with a Pearl Earring 💦⭐✨

[modern! photographer • Aemond Targaryen x female]

✨ Modern Aemond Long Series ✨

The Man in the Black Mask 💦💣💀✨

[ Amor��• Aemond x Psyche • female ]

The Prince and The Fox 💦💣

[ modern! • Aemond x friend! • female ]

Glass Cuts Deepest 💦💣⭐✨

[ professor! • Aemond x student! • female ]

Green Snake, Red Lion 💦💣⭐✨

[ Slytherin • Aemond x Gryffindor • female ]

The White Flame 💦💣

[ modern! rockstar • Aemond Targaryen x female ]

Sweet kiss, sweet blood 💦💣💀✨

[ dark vampire! • Aemond x female ]

The Crime and Punishment 💦💣✨

[ modern! lawyer • Aemond x female ]

My Best Friend 💦✨

[ modern! club owner • Aemond x female]  

✨ Canon Aemond ✨

Object of Desire 💦💣💀⭐✨

[ dark • Aemond x Arryn • widow female ]

The Impossible Choice 💦💣⭐✨

[ Aemond • Targaryen x Baratheon! • female ]

A Winter Beauty 💦💣⭐✨

[Aemond Targaryen x fem!Stark • female ]

The sweetest fruit 💦💣⭐✨

[ Aemond • Targaryen x Valyrian! • female ]

Song from the Sea 💦💣

[ Aemond • Targaryen x Greyjoy! • female ]

[flowerandblood]

Glass Cuts Deepest (9)

[ professor! • Aemond x student! • female ]

[ warnings: kissing, panic attack, fluff, angst, trauma, mention of rape, indecent student-teacher relationship ]

[ description: A female painting student is finally able to choose the specialisation she has dreamt of - stained glass. She wants to become a student of the best specialist in this field, but he, for some reason, refuses to accept female students into his workshop. She finds out that he once slapped a female student of one of the other professors. Nevertheless, she makes an attempt to find out what happened then and to convince him to teach her. Slow burn, sexual tension, dark, agressive Aemond, great childhood traumas. ]

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

Previous and next chapters: Masterlist

_____

She couldn't believe what had happened. She couldn't believe that he touched her, that she came on his hand, that he was planning to leave the university, that she could fall asleep in his embrace. In two days, her life had been turned upside down, and it appeared that the man she thought simply disliked her must have been in love with her for weeks.

What surprised her even more was that his confession had awakened something in her, some realisation that something about him had attracted her to him all along, had made her listen to every sentence he uttered to her colleagues, had made her gasp for air when he entered the room, had made her smile to herself when he watched from afar as she worked.

She thought at the time that the trembling of her hands and the hard pounding of her heart she felt when she spoke to him were due to fear, but she realised that it was always accompanied by an element of thrill, that as a man he was a challenge to her and by some miracle she had managed to get to his very heart, rooting so hard that he refused to let her out of his arms.

If it had been Cregan who had shown her so much interest and desire for intimacy she would surely have quickly cringed and withdrawn, overwhelmed and discouraged, however with him everything they did seemed strangely natural and came easily to her, as if subconsciously this was what she had been waiting for, patiently allowing him to approach her of his own accord.

They both squirmed through the night, aroused and elated, feeling that although no confession had been made between them, something had been decided, that they both knew they wanted each other, that they desired each other.

In the morning she was awakened by the tender touch of his fingers combing through her hair, his nose nestled against the top of her head, her cheek snuggled into his chest, locked in his tight, secure embrace.

She shuddered and sighed heavily, disappointed when she heard her alarm clock ring, hoping they had had a bit more time. She felt him release her from his arms so she could reach for her phone lying on her side of the bed, stroking her back as she muted her alarm, as if he wanted to take advantage of every second he was alone with her, every second he could touch her.

She looked over her shoulder at him and smiled, returning to her previous position, snuggling into his chest again, placing her hands exactly where he let her. He welcomed her back into the embrace of his arms with his murmur of contentment, his lips sinking into her hair on the top of her head in a tender kiss as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

She was shocked at how affectionate he was and how he needed that affection himself.

She thought, swallowing silently, that she wanted nothing more now than to take a shower with him.

She could feel his muscular body under her cheek and fingers – he had a slender, well-built figure and she suspected he went to the gym. She tried not to think about how wonderful he must look naked, wet, under the drops of water, but her imagination was apparently too lush, because she felt the wetness between her thighs again.

She heard him also grunt quietly and say that unfortunately he should go back to his room, take a quick shower and change before breakfast. She could feel how hard he was and knew that he was feeling extreme emotions, simultaneously terrified and aroused at the thought that she could touch him like that.

She decided that she would never try to touch him herself in such an intimate place until he guided her hand there himself or asked her to.

She didn't want to hurt him, seeing how much he trusted her.

Just two days ago, he wouldn't even shake her hand or sit close to her, but now they were lying in a tender, intimate embrace, stroking and kissing each other.

His lips found hers in a final, deep, drawn-out kiss before he stood up, standing with his back to her, not wanting to show what was going on in his sweatpants. She watched him leave and close the balcony door behind him while lying on her bed, feeling surprisingly calm.

It seemed like they were together.

She was in a relationship with her professor.

She sighed heavily, pressing her face against the pillow, recognising that she had no idea how they were going to manage to hide and pretend when they returned to university, when he needed her closeness and affection so much now.

How were they going to feign that they were indifferent to each other, that they kept their distance, that their relationship was downright chilly?

Nothing frightened her more than the thought that he would be in trouble because of her, that she would destroy his career.

She felt heat in her heart recalling what he had said, that he wanted to leave.

She knew they were balancing on the edge and recognised that she needed to be responsible for herself and for him, that she was no longer a small child and should control herself.

That he'd already suffered enough in his life and she needed to protect him, not get too carried away with their joy together and keep herself in check outside of the moments when it was just the two of them.

Just as the day before they'd had breakfast with Cregan – this time she had the impression that her professor was much more relaxed, even joining their discussion himself once in a while.

Apart from the pleasant realisation that there was some kind of beautiful feeling developing between them, which she had completely not expected, it came to her that she would see her project in its full glory today, her heart was hot with excitement.

When they arrived at the church she almost ran inside – she couldn't help herself, the technicians were just packing up the scaffolding and all the window quarters were put in their places. Father Bishop was already waiting for them, satisfaction gushing from his face.

"Please, come closer, Miss Wright, and see how magnificent your work looks." He said with a satisfaction from which she felt a kind of pride, knowing that she was only in her second year and although she had only cut out part of the background herself, this was her project, her vision, her idea.

She felt a tightness in her throat and a warmth ripple through her body seeing how beautiful it looked as a whole, how the faces of the saints, their robes and the backgrounds behind them shimmered in the sunlight, how wonderfully her composition and choice of colours matched the golden, baroque altar that stood before it.

Cregan patted her on the back proudly, saying that the whole thing looked amazing.

"It's a credit to the whole workshop. Everyone worked so hard, I'm so happy." She said softly, her voice trembling with emotion. She shuddered as she heard her professor's voice behind her.

"In Christian iconography and theology, the Virgin Mary is supposed to be the personification of the New Eve, transformed from a woman who was tempted into a woman who contributed to human salvation. Her son, Christ, was instead to be the new Adam, which is why often in crucifixion paintings we see a skull under his feet on the ground that is meant to symbolise Adam's tomb, on which his cross grows like a tree." He said in a calm, matter-of-fact tone, as if he were telling an interesing story, Cregan and the bishop looked at him with interest.

However, she knew perfectly well why he had said it, and she felt her heart beating fast, a pleasant heat spread over her whole body, a flush of embarrassment on her face.

For me, you are like Eve in Eden, who appeared beside me as a godsend.

She was his Eve, and his Virgin Mary had her face.

She wasn't sure there was any more intimate, spiritual declaration of love.

The bishop hummed under his breath, nodding.

"Indeed, the professor is right, Our Lady and Christ are the announcement of a new paradise, but also of the good news that the exile and wandering of mankind is over, that the gates of heaven have been opened to them again." He said, folding his hands behind him, glancing at her stained glass window and then at her, with a kind of curiosity from which she felt discomfort.

"Who painted the face of that wondrous Mother of God that shines so luminously before us?" He asked lightly, and she saw her professor look at him uncertainly, standing with his hands folded in front of him.

"Me." He replied briefly, lowly, but she felt a kind of tension in his answer. She saw Father Bishop glance at him and then at her and corrected his glasses with a light flick of his hand, a kind of amusement passed across his face from which she felt a squeeze in her throat.

Despite her concern, he didn't return to the subject, but she for some reason felt like crying.

It won't work.

People will guess that they have something in common and destroy them both.

They'll assume that she was in an intimate relationship with him from the very beginning and that's why he accepted her. They'll turn it against him, they'll think that's why he didn't want to accept women in the first place.

She felt tears at that thought and immense pain.

She saw that he glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, that he looked at her in the reflection of the mirror as they drove back to the hotel, but she was unable to look at him thinking that it was just a dream and nothing more, that she was naïve to think that what they were doing could have had any happy ending.

She went to her room without saying a word despite Cregan's encouragement for the three of them to have dinner at the restaurant and enjoy their new, wonderfully accomplished assignment.

She didn't have the strength to do that.

She was lying in her bed dressed in her pyjamas in complete darkness, knowing he would come, feeling in her heart ache at the thought that tomorrow they would return home, to the university, to an everyday life where what they did was immoral and would never be understood.

She shuddered when she heard movement on the balcony and then the quiet tapping of his fist on the window.

She thought for a moment that maybe she shouldn't open it, shouldn't give him or herself hope, but decided that she couldn't hurt him like that, just dismiss him without a word after what had happened between them.

She swallowed hard and stood up slowly, feeling her body tremble with fear, sadness and stress. She opened it and he stepped inside, closing her balcony door behind him, glancing at her quickly with concerned eyes, tense.

"What's going on?" He asked immediately, furrowing his brow, his voice trembling as he looked at her pleadingly.

He was afraid of what she would answer.

She pressed her lips together, looking away, feeling tears coming to the corners of her eyes, her body quivering all over. She shifted from foot to foot feeling overwhelmed and heartbroken at the same time.

"He knows. He knows it was my face you gave to your Virgin Mary." She muttered, looking up at him with suffering painted on her face, pulling in air with difficulty. She stepped back as he made a move towards her, but his hand caught her by the nape of her neck, pulling her close, shushing her tenderly.

"− shhh −" He whispered, pressing his forehead against hers, but she shook her head, tightening her hand on his wrist.

"− it won't work − someone will catch us − we won't hide −" She whispered, feeling tears begin to run down her cheeks and she sobbed quietly, heartbroken. He hushed her again, snuggling her face into his chest, embracing her tightly, tucking his nose into her hair.

She clung to him, clenching her fingers on his t-shirt, taking in the scent of his perfume, feeling so safe in his arms, so comfortable that it made her shiver in pain.

He was silent for a long moment, stroking her back and hair, listening to her raspy, anxious breathing.

"Just tell me if you want to try." He whispered quietly, and she felt a squeeze in her heart, feeling so painfully torn, at once wanting it with all her heart and panicking about the consequences of such a decision.

"I'm scared." She whispered in a trembling voice. He grasped her cheeks gently in his hand and lifted her face to look at him.

"I'm scared too, but that's not what I asked you." He said lowly, looking at her with a calmness that amazed her, a certainty and determination in his voice. She swallowed with difficulty, looking at him with her lips slightly parted.

I want to try.

It won't work.

I'm scared.

It's hard.

I want to try.

I don't know.

God.

"I don't know if you believe in God, but I do. Despite what has happened to me, I believe in him and that he is merciful. I also believe that he put you in my path, that he made me choose you because you are his gift, that he knows neither of us wants to do anything bad. I have never had the opportunity to care or look after anyone before in my life, but I want to do so for you. My sketches, your face that I painted, was an expression of my desperation and suffering, but this is the last time I let anyone see what I feel for you. This is the last time I put you in danger." He whispered in a trembling voice, making her completely stunned, tucking her hair behind her ear with a light, affectionate gesture of his fingers, a gesture that said 'you are mine'; 'I will protect you'; 'trust me'.

She looked at him with her lips slightly parted, feeling her heart pounding hard – she had the feeling that he himself was on the verge of crying, his fingers tracing the skin of her cheek was trembling, his gaze full of pain and affection from which she grew hot.

"Please, protect me." She mumbled helplessly, surrendering, feeling that she didn't have the strength to stand up to this, that even if she tried to lie to herself when she returned to the university she couldn't stop thinking about him, that it couldn't be undone anymore, that it was too late, that he had violently forced his way into her heart and she knew he had no intention of leaving it.

She saw him draw in a loud breath and sigh with relief, a small, shy smile crossed his face, gratitude that she had decided to trust him, that she wanted him to take care of her.

"I'll. I promise." He whispered, stroking her cheek with his fingers, and after a moment they leaned towards each other and kissed, deeply and tenderly, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

She felt butterflies in her stomach at the thought of how infatuated he must have been with her, how much he must have wanted her, to need her touch, her tenderness, her kisses so much despite his experiences, despite his trauma.

"− do you want to finish what we started yesterday? −" He asked in a quiet, trembling voice, as if unsure and ashamed himself of how much he needed her closeness, how much he desired her.

She nodded, not knowing what to answer, and they kissed again, this time more greedily, more passionately, as if they had finally accepted the fact that they both wanted this, that things would be what they were meant to be, that all they wanted and needed now was each other.

This time it was he who took her hand in his and led her to her bed, it was he who sat up, looking up at her, breathing unevenly.

"Can I stroke your cheek?" She asked quietly, longing to do so for so long, from the moment he touched her for the first time.

She saw him swallow loudly, looking at her with wide eyes, and then he nodded. She lifted her hand slowly and he closed his eyelids, drawing in air loudly as her fingers touched his skin.

"Are you okay?" She asked quietly, and he nodded and hummed under his breath, tense.

After a moment, however, she saw his lips tighten in discomfort, his face contorted in a sudden expression of pain and despair, he grabbed her wrist and shook his head.

"− no − I − I'm not − I'm sorry −" He mumbled out and she quickly took her hand away, horrified by his condition, by the fact that he hid his face in his hands and burst into loud sobs, by the fact that his body began to tremble in convulsions.

She knelt on the floor in front of him, looking at him in pain and disbelief, not knowing what to do, holding her hands over his knees, afraid to touch him, that she would only make his condition worse.

"− I'm begging you, don't apologise − I'm the one who's sorry − so much has happened, I shouldn't have asked for this − forgive me, I didn't mean to hurt you −" She mumbled out on the verge of crying, hearing his accelerated, breaking breath, his body trembling from crying.

"− hurt me? − you can't even touch me − fuck! −" He growled out with difficulty through his tears, desperation and disappointment with himself in his voice, with the hope that something had changed, that something had finally snapped inside him.

She didn't know what to say, what to do, how to soothe him without even being able to embrace him, hug him.

"− that whore − then when she came to me − she touched me, she fucking touched me everywhere − my cheeks, my shoulders, my chest, my stomach, my −" He couldn't finish, speaking with such deep sorrow that her throat tightened. She felt tears under her eyelids as he uncovered his face in front of her, looking at her as if he was searching for understanding, as if he needed to confide in someone at last.

He drew in a deep breath, gathering himself to speak his next sentence, raising his hand like a professor who wanted to explain something to his student.

"− she touched me everywhere − e v e r y w h e r e − as if she wanted to contaminate my body − to make sure that no one would ever touch me after her again −" He spoke the last sentence in a low, breaking voice, tears in his eyes again. She covered her mouth with her hand, feeling that her whole body was shaking, that she was in such a state as he was.

She was terrified.

"− she destroyed me as a man − as a boy − you were right − it doesn't make sense − you don't deserve this, you will only face rejection from me −" He muttered covering his face with his hand, struggling to utter his words between trying to catch his breath out loud – she felt a powerful sting in her heart at his thought of her wanting to abandon him because he saw no hope for himself, because he was disappointed.

"− you said you would never touch a woman before me, and yet you've been sleeping in the same bed with me for the past two nights − you've been holding my hand and kissing me − you demand too much of yourself and you think I demand the same, but that's not true − I just want you to be there for me −" She said brokenly, realising how much she had gotten herself into this, how much she didn't want him to suddenly become a stranger to her again, to disappear from her life.

She heard him trying to calm down, grasping at her words like a razor, himself clearly no longer knowing what he was thinking, terrified.

"− I − I − I think I'm about to throw up −" He muttered, and she quickly picked herself up from the ground, running for the first thing she thought would come in handy, which was a vase, pulling the flowers out of it quickly and handing it to him.

Barely in time, he merely turned his back on her and vomited, quivering all over. She sat beside him on her bed, looking at him with an anguish she had never experienced before in her life, her trembling hands wiping away the tears of pain that streamed down her face.

She suffered because she couldn't even stroke his back, she suffered because she didn't know if she could at least touch his hand, or if it would be too much now, she had never felt so helpless before in her life.

She couldn't find words of comfort for him.

Easy, nothing happened, everything will be fine sounded only like empty phrases.

"− I'll stay with you − I'll take my duvet, we'll go to your room and I'll lie down on the armchair next to you − I'll be with you, okay? −" She asked in a trembling voice, fearing that in desperation he would now try to reject her. He, however, was panting loudly, still with his back turned to her, trying to calm his breathing.

He nodded his head.

He disappeared into the bathroom for a moment to bring himself and the vase to order, not letting her do it for him, and then left her room without looking at her. She took her duvet quickly and ran out after him barefoot, noticing with relief that he had left his balcony door open.

She followed him in, seeing that he had checked that the door to his room was closed and was watching her vigilantly as she closed his balcony door behind her.

He wanted to be sure that no stranger would enter at night.

That no one would hurt him.

Resigned, he moved slowly towards his bed and lay on his stomach with his head facing her, not looking at her but in front of him, his gaze blank, cold.

Just like when she met him.

She thought with a squeeze of her heart that perhaps if she hadn't wanted to touch him it wouldn't have happened and she felt like crying again, but she thought she had to be strong for him.

She sat down in the armchair by the coffee table standing a short distance from his bed and covered herself with her duvet. He rose suddenly, without looking at her.

"− you'll be uncomfortable there − lie on the bed, I'll sleep in the armchair −" He said indifferently, and she shook her head, covering herself more tightly.

"− no −" She burbled wrinkling her brow, preparing to resist if necessary. He looked at her, seeming more tired than ever.

"− come to bed −" He whispered, moving back, laying down on his sheets, and she shook her head.

"− I don't need to…−"

"Come here. I want you close." He said in a matter-of-fact, confident voice, and she swallowed loudly, looking at him uncertainly. She stood up slowly, circling the bed, laying down slowly on the opposite side of it, as far away from him as possible.

He was lying with his back to her and not looking at her, but she heard his breathing quicken once more, his body starting to tremble again.

He cried.

"− will you stroke my head? −" He whispered in a breaking voice, a shiver went through her when she realised how much he needed her, how much he was suffering.

"− I don't want to hurt you again −" She whispered uncertainly, looking up at him in pain, seeing his chest fall and rise in anxious breaths.

"− please −" He said in such a tone that she felt like her heart had just broke.

She moved a little closer to him with a quiet creak of the mattress so that she could reach him with her hand, but not touch him in any other way. She slowly lifted her trembling palm and combed her fingers through his hair in a slow, soft, gentle motion.

She felt him flinch and wanted to ask what was going on, if he didn't want it after all, but he spoke up first.

"− don't stop −"

And so she lifted her hand again with a pounding heart, placing it on his head, brushing her fingers through his hair with a delicate, tender gesture exactly as he had done the first night.

"− I will watch over you all night − no one will come in here − no one will touch you − you are safe − try to sleep −" She whispered tenderly, her hand trailing through his hair in slow, steady movements. She heard him swallow hard, but did not speak.

As promised, she forced herself to stay awake, or remain only half asleep, alert to his every movement. He woke up once in a while with a sigh and only glanced at her, terrified to feel her touch, but as soon as he recognised her something in his gaze softened.

"− sleep −" He whispered, but she shook her head, playing with his short hair. He looked at her thoughtfully for a moment, as if he was thinking about something.

"− embrace me − I want to feel you close −" He hummed, and she looked at him tenderly. She rose slowly, moving closer to him with her quilt, not stopping to stroke him, resting her arm on his back now, putting her head a little above his.

He moved closer to her, snuggling his forehead into the hollow of her neck, and finally fell into a peaceful sleep.

_____

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess

[flowerandblood]

Glass Cuts Deepest Headcanons

Aemond x Wright after events from the series

Headcanons for the closeness and intimacy between Aemond and Wright after the events of the series. They will also include descriptions of sexual encounters and attempts to cope with the trauma of sexual abuse. Series Masterlist

⭐ Aemond must always feel her. When they lie on the sofa together and watch a movie, when they read while sitting next to each other, when they talk in a restaurant. His hand is on her hand, on her thigh, stroking her, an involuntary reflex that he doesn't think about.

⭐ At night he has to hold her, his arm around her back or chest is a bare minimum. Every movement she makes wakes him up, he kisses her forehead or temple every time he's sure they're both safe, and then he falls asleep again.

When he has nightmares, he wakes her up and tells her about it, and she holds him to her breasts, terrified and trembling, stroking his hair and reassuring him that he is safe until he falls asleep again from exhaustion.

⭐ Visiting museums and art galleries together is their common passion, which they fulfill in every free moment, going on trips and sightseeing together. He has to hold her hand as if they were teenagers, while having the same indifferent and cold expression as always, making her laugh. Whenever they are driving anywhere, one of his hands is always on her thigh.

⭐ He loves it when she sits in front of him on the bed or a folded sofa while they watch a series or a movie together. Then he wraps his arms around her body, feeling her wonderfully from all sides, the back of her head resting on his shoulder, his cheek against her temple.

Innocent hanging out usually turns into intense sex as soon as her buttocks press too hard against what's hidden in his pants. His manhood pulsates in response every time, and Wright, feeling him, teases him until he hisses in her ear that she wanted this herself, as he slides her panties off, spread her thighs, and enters her from behind with a firm, violent thrust.

His one hand on her breast, kneading it, playing with her nipple, the other between her thighs, teasing her clit as he fucks her from behind with deep, fast movements, growling if this is what she wanted, if she can't concentrate even on a stupid movie and how many times he have to fuck her to make her behave. Of course, in fact, he will get great satisfaction from it all himself, not giving a damn about whatever they watched.

⭐ Aemond finds herself in a dominant role when it comes to classic sex. He finds satisfaction in tying her hand with his belt to make sure she doesn't touch him while he enjoys her body. Of course, they have predefined rules and safety passwords.

He loves to prolong and deny her orgasms, driving her wild with his tongue and hands, making her one big mess begging for fulfillment. His biggest fear is that he will hurt her so he makes sure he doesn't overdo it by saying "you're doing so good for me, can you hold on for me just a little longer?", "just a little bit more and I'll let you cum, hmm?", "such a good little girl, easy now, we're almost there".

When he finally lets her come, he slides into her almost immediately, himself on the brink of orgasm from what he's doing to her, hard and swollen, with determined thrusts of his hips fucking her with all his might, regardless of how sensitive she is after her orgasm, rubbing her right where she needs it, pushing his tongue deep into her mouth.

Sometimes, while doing this, she will beg him to untie her hands, to intertwine their fingers, that she wants to feel him. Then he stops for a moment, breathing heavily, releasing her, taking her hands in his, going back to what he was doing a moment earlier, listening to her sighs and moans of delight as she reaches another peak with him.

⭐ He proposes to her after a year of their relationship, confident that he wants to be with her for the rest of his life, and forces her to take him to the church where she first saw the stained glass windows as a child while walking with her father.

Wright thought they had only gone there for a walk, however, at one point he lets go of her hand, she turns to him and he kneels in front of her, a small box containing a sapphire ring in his hand.

For a moment Wright can't believe what's happening and panics with happiness, simultaneously crying, suffocating and waving her hands with happiness, before finally choking out a yes.

⭐ After their engagement, he finally decides to introduce her to his family and, to his satisfaction, his relationship with her makes him regain a good connection with his mother again. He has a serious conversation with her about what happened and how he didn't cope with his trauma. They both cry in the other room as Wright and Helaena talk about their favourite books and slowly become friends.

⭐ When Aemond sees her on their wedding day in the church the sun is already setting, the coloured lights of the stained-glass windows illuminate her petite figure as she walks underhand with her father in a modest long-sleeved pearl gown, beautifully embroidered and partly semi-transparent, white flowers in her hair.

He thinks then that it is God himself who gives him his Eve in possession at last, he imagines that he sees her for the first time in his life standing in the Garden of Eden. He gets as emotional as she does, trying not to cry and thus make her cry too, so that she doesn't blur her make-up, but still they both can't hold their tears while saying their vows and they say them with difficulty, stuttering, looking into each other's eyes with a love that he hadn't even dared to dream of before.

⭐ Their wedding night is tender and peaceful, full of laughter and joy. Her touch is warm and respectful, they undress slowly, and then she goes to the bathroom and changes into a lovely long nightgown, from under which, however, the outline of his body is partly visible, which arouses him even more.

He stays in his shirt and trousers however, they don't think about it, he turns her onto her back, intertwines their fingers together and slides into her, panting into her mouth between kisses that they are one from now on before God and will remain one after death, that she will be his Eve too in the new paradise.

⭐ When Wright becomes pregnant for the first time he is stunned and excited, he starts reading lots of parenting articles on the internet and makes Wright laugh by telling her what she should do, what vitamins to take and what could be a risk to the baby. She has to reassure him that she and the doctor have everything under control.

From then on, he constantly keeps his hand on her abdomen. The thought that their child is now there makes his wife seem to him like some kind of superhuman being, a miracle who will be able to bring a new life into their world, and he thinks it is impossible to love someone so much.

He wants her to give up her job for the duration of her pregnancy fearing that the chemicals in the patina and glass paints they inhaled could realistically harm the baby, being toxic, but she was dying of boredom at home and begged him to at least let her cut glass.

He reluctantly agreed and arranged for her to have a room next to his workshop which up to then had been his private studio, and from which he took everything that could be dangerous to her for that time.

⭐ On the day of the delivery he dies of fear that something will go wrong, Wright did not want him to be there when his baby comes into the world fearing that he will just pass out. Her screams and moans of exertion cause him to just start crying, terrified, her parents have to calm him down.

However, when the nurse announces that it's over and he hears his baby crying he almost runs inside, Wright tired, sweaty, pale yet smiling holds their tiny son in her arms, he is all red from the heat and his childish despair that he has been ripped from his mother's warm womb into this cold, scary world.

Looking at her with their baby in her arms, all he can think about is that she looks like the Mother of God with the Child, he sits down next to them in a chair and watches them, unable to get out of his awe at this sight. He then creates many works inspired by this scene, often sketching them while she held their son to her breast, when she was cradling him or playing with him.

_____

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

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