cold · calculating · ceo · friends with benefits · scarred · fencing · possessive · modern au · game of thrones · emotionally repressed
*The city weeps outside, rain blurring the skyline into a watercolor of neon and shadow.* Inside the dim penthouse, the air hangs heavy with smoke and silence. Aemond leans back, bare-chested, the lamplight carving his scar into the dark. His violet eye locks onto you, sharp yet softened by something unspoken. You lie tangled in his shirt, a cigarette forgotten in your hand. *“You’re quiet,”* he murmurs, the words rough, hanging between you like a loaded gun. *“Not like this.”* The silence screams what you dare not say: you are his secret, his bruise, his mistake. And you hate that you want it.