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burguesinha24 · 3 months ago

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KITTY KAT

a/n: I need her… P IS FOR PUSSY P-U-S-S-Y, THAT PUSSY

Pairings: personaltrainer!Vi x f!reader

Warnings: she does indeed take you to pound town, very self indulgent (i hate working out), fingering, oral (you receiving), spitting (tehe), kinda fluffy idk, semi-public sex GRRRAH

Song: Kitty Kat, Megan Thee Stallion (our queen)

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The gym.

One of the worst fucking places in existence.

Who the fuck could ever take pleasure in being sweaty and tired and sore?

You, apparently.

You didn’t necessarily like working out. (It was the bane of your existence) But your doctor had said it was healthy, and it was New Year’s, so now was as good a time to start as any. Plus, it gave you an excuse to wear the adorable sports bra and skirt combo your sister had gotten you.

As expected, the gym was absolutely packed. You could see white dudes flexing from every corner, along with a few (glorious) muscle mommies. Unfortunately, the universe did not seem to support your dream (that was whole-heartedly pushed on you by your friends and doctor) of getting fit for the year.

“Apologies, ma’am, but we just don’t have enough space at the moment.” You stared down at the poor, overworked receptionist and frowned, credit card already in hand.

“Really? But I can spot a few extra spaces-”

“It’s a fire hazard, ma’am. You’ll have to wait outside or come back at an earlier time.”

“There’s really no space? At all?” The teenager looked down at the computer in front of him.

“Well, we do have available spots with our private trainers, but you’d have to pay for the session. As well as an extra fee for being so last-minute.” You cursed under your breath, moving to put your credit card back in your bag when someone cut you off.

“I’ll take her.” You looked up at the sound of the voice, only to find piercing blue eyes already staring at you. It was scary, honestly, how fit she was. Her messy pink hair flopped carelessly to the side, over one of her eyes, and her body was littered with tattoos. She was already glowing, probably from an earlier exercise. She hooked her thumbs in the waistband of her grey sweats as she walked over to the teenager behind the desk.

“You sure, Vi? You don’t usually ta-”

“I said I’ll take her, Ekko.” She glanced up at you again, an easy smile playing on her ridiculously attractive features. “She looks like she’s never stepped foot inside a gym before.” Your face flushed at her absolutely correct observation. Her gaze darted down to take in your appearance, shamelessly dragging up and down your frame. You suddenly felt a little self-aware about the light pink set you had decided to wear, even if your sweater was drowning your figure.

Fuck, I do look like I have no idea what I’m doing.

“I’ve been inside a gym before.” You finally responded, frowning at the way her grin only grew.

“Sure you have, cupcake.” Your heart pounded erratically at the nickname, and you silently cursed the universe for putting you in the position to make a fool of yourself in front of such an attractive woman. The teenager behind the desk, Ekko, glanced between the two of you, sighing and turning back to his computer with a look that said, ‘I-don't-get-paid-enough-for-this’.

“Alright, that’ll be-”

“Free of charge, Ekko.” You tore your gaze from her hypnotic blue eyes to look down at the young man. He raised an eyebrow. “Fine, whatever. I gotta give a reason, though. What should I code in? That you were too horny to-” She coughed loudly, drowning out the rest of his sentence. He smirked at her as she sent him a harsh glare.

“I’ll deal with that later, just give her a damn card.”

One sibling-like argument later and a shiny new membership card in your hand, you found yourself in one of the training rooms with the attractive stranger.

Vi.

Her name echoed in your mind. You wondered what it was short for. Victoria? Vivian? Vienna? She watched as you set your stuff down in the corner of the room, nervously fiddling with your water bottle until it finally decided to stand upright without falling over. She eyed you expectantly as you turned around.

“What?” You finally said, picking at the fabric of your sweatshirt.

“You gonna take that off?” Your cheeks flamed. “I don’t go easy.” She tilted her head. “I would hate for you to get uncomfortable and sweaty before we even start.” Holy shit the way she was talking had you second guessing what you were really here for. You obeyed her request, (because, duh) slowly sliding off your sweatshirt to reveal the set you had chosen out for today. Something flickered in her eyes as she drank in the sight of you.

Shit, she had thought you were hot in the lobby, but this? This was just fucking unfair. You looked like a goddess. Your skirt just barely hung half-way down your thighs, and your bra pushed up your breasts in a way that had her mouth watering. She quickly tore her gaze off of your body as you cleared your throat.

Get it the fuck together, Vi.

“So, what are your goals, hm? Any particular things you want to hit?” She made her way over to the closet in the room, sifting through the selections of weights and trying to ignore the heat thrumming through her body that had nothing to do with her previous workout.

“I don’t really know. I guess just… being healthy?” You sounded so shy, so tentative. She fought the shudder that was threatening to roll down her spine.

“Well, I guess I’ll start you off easy. Work on your core,” Now it was your turn to shudder. “Maybe hit some squats too.” She turned back around, closing the closet and tilting her head to better look at you. “Just to get a lay of the land, hm, cupcake?” Your face felt like it was in a perpetual state of fire. You nodded eagerly.

She made her way over to you after turning on some music that felt way too sensual for a workout. (of this type, anyway.)

“We’re gonna start with some stretching, ok?” You fiddled with your fingers, nodding like a child being instructed by a teacher. Vi circled your form before settling on standing behind you, her hands gently resting on your hips. “Gonna need you to spread your legs for me, pretty.” The words, whispered so softly and so dangerously in your ear, almost made you gasp. You tilted your head to look back at her, eyes blown (adorably, if she might add) wide. She grinned, a seductive, dangerous thing that made your panties drop. (Figuratively). She raised an eyebrow. “What? I don’t want you to pull a hamstring, cupcake.” You swallowed thickly, trying to will away the increasingly inappropriate thoughts that were crowding your mind.

Slowly, slowly, you spread your legs, biting back a whimper as her hand snaked up your back, gently pushing your upper body down into a sort of downward dog position. The burn you felt in your legs was almost embarrassing. The moment you were down, fingertips brushing the floor, Vi’s gaze went straight to your ass.

“Fuck.” The words slipped past her lips before she could even realize what she was doing. She tucked her bottom lip under her teeth, dragging the hand that was on your back higher, just tracing the curve of your ass.

You were wet.

She could see the faintest of outlines through the thin layer of your undershorts.

You whimpered, legs shaking ever so slightly from the strain of the stretch. (You really needed to workout more)

Now she was wet.

Without even thinking, she grabbed you by your ponytail, yanking you up into a standing position. The force of her movement made you stumble, your legs still awkwardly stretched wide. Thankfully, she had stuck out her knee for you to sit on.

“I think,” She breathed in your ear, a hot, heavy thing that sent an embarrassing amount of slick oozing out of your cunt. “That we should focus on a different type of workout, hmm, cupcake?” You nodded slowly, dazed. And fuck, was she a woman starved.

In a second you found yourself on the floor, looking up at her with wide, desperate eyes. You clenched your thighs together, your hips rocking up into the air for some form of friction. She took her time, just staring at you. At the way your hair fanned out around you like a halo, the way your breasts moved with each shuddering breath you took, the way you looked so, so wrecked. A dangerous grin spread across her face.

She was going to ruin you.

There was not a single coherent thought in your mind as she hastily dragged your skirt and panties off of your legs in one, harsh tug. She was manhandling your legs open, and you swore she whined at the sight of your glistening arousal.

“Fuck, baby.” She whispered out hoarsely. You squirmed under her gaze, cheeks burning in embarrassment as you tried to close your legs. “No no no no no, don’t you fucking dare.” She dragged her middle finger down your slit, gathering up your juices before bringing her finger to her mouth and sucking. “Been dreaming of this sweet pussy for so long.” She moaned out.

“B-but, we just met like, h-half an hour ago.” You sputtered out, your cheeks rosy and your eyes hazy with lust and confusion. She grinned again, lowering her head so she was a hair's breadth away from where you needed her most.

“Thirty minutes is a long fucking time, cupcake.” You didn’t even have time to process her words before she was wrapping her lips around your clit, giving it a harsh suck that left you keening.

“Oh, f-fuck!” You gasped out, back arching at how her tongue skillfully lapped at your pussy. She hummed against your burning flesh, the vibrations against your puffy clit making your toes curl. The obscene sounds of slurping and squelching filled the room, and you might have had half a mind to care about it if you weren’t so fucking far gone by the feel of her mouth.

“Taste so good, princess.” She mumbled against your skin. You dared to look down and, fuck, she looked even more wrecked then you were. Her eyes hazy and half-lidded, cheeks flushed and shiny from your juices, and her hair sticking to her face with each deliberate suck. You could vaguely make out how she was grinding against the ground, but she pulled away before you could actually think of helping her as well. You whined at the loss, reaching down to try and tug her closer to you.

“P-please-oh-” You gasped as she spit on your already slobbering cunt, once, twice, three times, before she was satisfied. Your clit twitched as the globs of her saliva attacked it.

“Shh, baby, trying to make sure your nice and messy f’me.” She rubbed a few quick circles on your clit with her thumb before prodding at your entrance with her pointer finger. Her eyes were glued to the way your face contorted as she pressed into your cunt. “Fuck, you’re so tight.” She whispered in awe.

“OhmygodViplease.” Your begging was nothing more than a long string of incoherent words. She chuckled, pressing yet another long, thick finger into your opening.

“Fucked dumb already?” She cooed, thrusting into you shallowly. You almost sobbed. It was only when she added a third finger that she was finally satisfied. Her slow, shallow thrusts turned fucking manic. Her eyes never left your face as she curled her fingers up with each thrust searching for-

“Fuck!” You squealed, your walls clamping down on her like a vice. She crawled up your frame, leaning down to nip at your neck before thrusting in that same spot again.

“Found it.” Her gazed dropped from your face to look down at her fingers as she fucked you, her mouth parting open in awe at how you were swallowing her up, you arousal dripping onto the floor beneath you. It didn’t take long before you were on the very precipice, just dangling off the edge of oblivion. She pressed down harder on your clit, and then you came.

Your back arched into an almost painful position, your fingernails digging into the floor for something to anchor yourself to. She whispered in your ear as you saw white, her fingers still fucking you through your orgasm.

“Shh, I’ve got you, I’ve got you. There we go, perfect fucking pussy.” She finally stopped as you collapsed, boneless on the floor. You turned your head to look up at her, smiling tiredly.

“What’s your name short for?” She grinned.

“Violet.”

“Mm, pretty.” You winced as she closed your legs, then blushed as she sucked her fingers clean. “What about you?” Your brows furrowed as you pushed yourself up by your elbows.

“You can do me later. After our date.” You blinked in surprise, your mind still a little hazy.

“Date?” She stood up, then helped you stand on shaky legs.

“Well, our session has ended, so I figured we could pick things up at your place, maybe. I know a bomb-ass asian restaurant just off Main.” You smiled softly, and it made her beat just a little faster.

“Yeah, alright. I’ll see you then.” You walked out of the private room looking a hell of a lot more disheveled then when you first walked in. Ekko rolled his eyes, praying to whoever was up there that he wouldn’t have to clean any suspicious stains from the floor.

You looked down at your phone as it pinged, smiling to yourself as you read the message.

Hope you enjoyed our workout, cupcake ;)

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a/n: my first ever like actual fic pls don't kill me guys ik its kind of shit, was honestly just trying to get this out of the way so i could work on oil rig worker Vi. ANYWAYS I LUV U ALL MWAH!

#arcane #fanfic #vi #vi x reader #vi x you #violet lanes #smut #smutshot #ekko is in here for like point two seconds #personaltrainer!Vi #sexy ass woman #lesbian #queer #lgbtq #SESBIAN LEX

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targaryenrealnessdarling · 2 years ago

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No Pain, No Gain | Part 1 | PersonalTrainer!Aemond x fem!reader

Summary: The personal trainer your roommate Baela recommended to you is rude, condescending but also hot as hell. Series Masterlist.

A/N: shoutout to my personal trainer Alex for rotting my brain. This is my first modern!Aemond fic, so any feedback is genuinely appreciated, I hope you enjoy this, it was an absolute ball to write (and there will be more!)

Also I could not post this without tagging some absolute modern!Aemond QUEENS who inspired me to write this. @valeskafics @oneeyedvisenya @sapphire-writes you’re the real ones! Also massive hug to @ewanmitchellcrumbs for hyping me up and being a parent to this child she didn't choose to create.

warnings: EVENTUAL SMUT, 18+, sexual tension, binge eating, mentions of breakup, cursing, dickhead Aemond, reader is horny af, English slang (soz), warnings will be added when needed

To say you were broken-hearted would be a bit of an understatement.

You were angry, annoyed, frustrated, wound up tight and pissed off to the highest degree.

And it showed in how you acted these days as you polished off the salty family-size bag of crisps on your own in 10 minutes flat.

You look over at your phone and sigh when you see it’s already 6 o’clock in the afternoon. Another day sat on the sofa, wallowing in self-pity, eating yourself into oblivion and fairly soon pouring a glass of Baela’s finest white wine (now that it was officially almost evening anyway and it was justified).

Scrolling through instagram was like twisting the dagger that was already in your chest. All that stupid fucking app could show you was ‘ex in the bar with his new girlfriend’, ‘ex in the drive-thru with his new girlfriend’, ‘ex on the beach with his new girlfriend’.

It made you want to throw your phone directly at the wall. But you settled for squeezing the life out of it, imagining it was your ex’s stupid face instead.

The absolute waste of space had broken up with you over text on the night you were supposed to go out on a date. And as if that was not bad enough, not even two weeks had gone by before he’d managed to stick his dick into someone else with a pulse. At the time, you were so angry that you didn’t accuse him of anything, he’d already broken up with you. But you did suspect that this ‘sudden’ relationship he’d gotten into wasn’t as recent as first thought.

It’s been a month since you found out about the other woman.

And clearly you were coping really well.

Indulging wasn’t something you usually did, but now you feel you deserved it.

“Hello~” the soft, ringing voice of your roommate Baela was at the door. You half-considered hiding all the packets of various foods you’d managed to stuff down your gob, but Baela had seen worse of you. She’d seen you while you were throwing your guts up after freshers week at university. Nothing was worse than that and you shuddered at the memory.

She walks in, looking more put together than you by a long way, having been hanging out with her sister all day. That’s what you like about Baela, she’s not judgemental, and so when she sees you’ve barely moved an inch she just flashes her usual smile.

“Good day then?” she says with a smirk. You raise your eyebrows in return.

“Apart from seeing him plastered all over instagram I’m great”

“Got any left?” she asks, extending a greedy hand for a crisp. You offer her the bag with a sigh as she slumps on the sofa next to you. She watches boredly whatever you have on the TV,

"Why don't you just block him?" She asks. And to be fair, she has a point.

But you huff and shove another crisp in your mouth, whining, "Cos I'm a nosy bitch with no boundaries"

Baela sighs, pulling out her own phone and scrolling through her notifications, "As much as I love you y/n, this is pathetic, even for you"

You'd be offended if she wasn't completely right. And you know she's only half joking so you just shrug.

"How was Rhaena?" You ask.

"Yeah fine, usual shit with Dad. Oh I didn't tell you-" she starts.

She has that glint in her eye which spells trouble. She's got gossip and you raise your eyebrows in anticipation.

"Hold that thought, wine first?"

"Obviously"

After giggling and waltzing over to the counter to pour two glasses of the finest box wine you could get for under seven English pounds, you hand her one and wait almost too excitedly for her to spill whatever sweet gossip she has.

She sips it, almost like she needs the liquid courage to begin, and she hisses at the sweet, acidic taste.

"God that's foul"

"It was 2 for 1!" You retort with a laugh, but she is right, it does taste foul, "Stop stalling, tell me tell me tell me"

She looks at you as if to say bitch, you are not fucking ready.

“Dad’s married Rhaenyra”

The force of which your jaw drops open is almost comical. You’d guessed for a while that they were at least fucking, but to just elope?!

“I need money, cos I betted on this shit happening!”

“Oh my gosh, Rhaena was fucking hysterical. Jace and Luke aren’t surprised at all, but Alicent is beside herself in the family group chat, it should honestly be a reality TV show” Baela says scrolling through said group chat. From what you can see without being too nosy, is that there’s a lot of long paragraphs and angry emojis.

“What about Viserys, surely he’s…” you ask, trailing off to sip the pissy wine in your hands.

“Oh no, he’s thrilled. Which pisses Alicent off even more if that’s possible”

“Baela I think your Uncle’s gone insane” you bite your lip to stifle a laugh.

“No fucking kidding”

You slump back onto the sofa, “Holy shit, I am a genius. I knew the whole time” you say, smirking in victory.

“And so humble too” Baela gives a sarcastic grin which you return.

“How do you feel about it?”

Baela shucks her phone onto the coffee table, sighing, “Not bothered, we’re all adults now, so it hardly makes a difference to me. Suppose it’ll get Dad to stop bringing back random women now” she says exasperated, “but Rhaenyra gets the impression we’re all really bothered so she’s invited us all to a retreat for a week. Think she just wants to butter us up for marrying our Dad”

“Oh? Anywhere nice?”

Baela looks over, giving you a wearied look.

“What?”

“Well that brings me to you”

“Oh god, what” you ask, dropping the tone to emphasise the seriousness of the talk all of a sudden.

Baela fiddles with the remote, in an attempt to appear cute, “Well~ There’s a spare ticket going and you’re my bestest friend. And I would hate to endure a week of watching my Dad eat Rhaenyra’s face off, so come with me please?” she begs.

You sigh, “Baela usually I would love to sponge off you like that but-”

“Pleasepleaseplease~” she begs, “Rhaena’s bringing her boyfriend and we’re basically together!”

You fake a gagging sound.

“Oh come on, a week on a beach in bikinis,sweltering weather with as many cocktails as you can hold isn’t exactly torture”

You give her an incredulous look, opening your arms to emphasise all the bags of junk food around you, “Do I look beach body ready to you?!”

“Oh fuck off, you’re hot and have an ass that can keep the world fed”

“I know I am hot, I just don’t feel hot” you stare blankly at the TV, trying to ignore her and stuff another crisp into your mouth.

Baela sighs, “I was just thinking it would be a nice distraction, that’s all”

“I want to it’s just…” you start, trying to think of the right words, “...I don’t feel my best”

Baela gives you a playful slap on your arm, “Look, forget your ex, he’s dumb as fuck and it’s not solving anything by staying inside with the curtains drawn all day. If you want to feel better, might be worth taking care of yourself a bit, hm?”

Fuck her, you think, rolling your eyes, she’s right.

You hate how often she’s right. Because she gets that look on her face when she is. Always has done.

“How about that gym membership you’ve not used since February?” she asks,

“Okay firstly, ouch. Secondly, I realised I don’t know the first thing about how to work out in a gym, besides the guys there were…weird”

You shudder at the thought. It was January and so all the new year’s resolution guys were at it in full swing, using the gym as a means to try and pick up girls. And since graduating you find that more often than not the guys who hit on you were students. Maybe it was different now?

Baela pokes her cheek with her tongue, racking her brain.

“One of my cousins is a personal trainer? I could text him to see if he’s happy to take you on. Mates rates” she smiles.

You side-eye her hard. You’ve heard briefly about her cousins. Some of the stories are a bit more…eccentric than others. And even though you’ve never met them, you’ve heard enough stories to satisfy your curiosity.

“This isn’t the manwhore cousin, right? Because if it is then no”

She scoffs, “No. Aegon hasn’t set food in a gym since graduating and he only went cos it was free. The personal trainer one is Aemond. He’s a bit…anti-social?” she pulls a face when she says it.

“He’s anti-social and he’s a personal trainer?” you ask, eyebrow raised, “makes so much sense”

Baela scrolls through her contacts, “Yeahhh. Don’t worry though, he’s just grumpy” she explains, “want me to text him?”

Your head falls to the edge of the sofa in a huff. You want to go and on top of that, it might be nice to finally have a break. That and you’d love to shove it in your exes face when he sees you’re on holiday looking your hottest.

“How long ‘til the holiday?”

Baela grins victoriously, “A month and a bit. He does a month course for stuff like this, I can ask him about it”

What the fuck am I getting myself into, you think briefly.

Fuck it.

“Fine”

The force at which Baela’s nails tap against the screen is almost desperate.

Baela snorts a laugh at the message and turns her phone to show you the messages.

“He seems lovely” you roll your eyes sarcastically.

“Like I said, he’s just grumpy. He’ll be professional though” she says.

You sigh, crushing the empty bag of crisps in your hands.

“Can’t wait”

After following him on instagram, you did a bit of shameless stalking. You’d heard a little bit about Aemond from Baela talking about her family, but he seemed the most mysterious out of all of them (save for the youngest whose name she struggled to even remember).

He had very little photos of himself, mainly progress pictures of other clients he’s helped. And he seems to be pretty successful so far. A girl with a similar body to you managed to get toned on his one-month program and looked hot afterwards, so you had some high hopes that it was possible for you as well. But you did wonder what he looked like. There were only two photos where he was in frame, and he’d been tagged by another person, looking away from the camera.

From what you could see, he was very tall, lithe and slim but built, with silver hair that had been pulled up into a bun. Ah, so he’s a man-bun type of guy. Yikes.

Unfortunately, the photo showed very little of his face, so you couldn’t be too nosy.

You sent a very brief message, introducing yourself, trying not to cringe at the idea that he might be doing the exact same stalking to your instagram right at this moment. A shiver went up your spine at the thought.

It’s only when you’re in TKMaxx with Baela, shopping for gym gear the next day, that you finally get a reply from him.

“What do you think of just wearing a sports bra?” Baela says, eyeing up a black shirt.

You’re too busy staring at the message, “Hm? Oh, I’d just go in gym leggings and a bra yeah. Just got a reply from your mysterious cousin”

Baela hops over, “What’s he said? Nothing bad I hope” she grins.

You show her the screen.

Baela raises her eyebrows, “Very formal. Guess I shouldn’t be surprised” she says, seeming surprised that he’s at least cordial.

“It’s very ‘serial-killer-esque’ of him not to have a profile picture” you joke, locking your phone again.

Baela picks out a black gym set. Black leggings with a mesh pocket on the side for your phone and a black sports bra. You nod, “Yeah looks good to me”

“Oh please you’re gonna look hot in this” she smirks, leading you over to the counter to pay.

She rewards you for your efforts by driving you to McDonald's drive-thru. A send off to junk-food so to speak.

And when Monday rolls around, you nod in the mirror. She was right, it does look hot on you. At least in the safety of your flat where there’s nobody to look at you. In a gym, surrounded by other fit people and a personal trainer you’ve never met? It might feel slightly different.

There’s a faint swirl of anxiety in your gut but you pull your trainers on, grab a hair tie from your nightstand and drive to the gym you’ve agreed to meet at. Luckily it’s your local gym, large and packed to the brim with some good equipment at least. And you briefly wonder what kind of workouts you’ll be doing before pulling into the car park.

You see him as soon as you enter the gym. He’s very tall, slender but muscular and fucking gorgeous. What the fuck, is all you can think when you shamelessly scan him from head to toe. Like the pictures, he has his long silver hair in a bun, with a few pieces having come free and falling around his face. His legs are miles long in the black sweats he’s wearing, as well as the black top that sticks a bit too snugly to his front and shoulders, making your mouth water a bit.

And you can’t help but admire his side profile, how his jaw just so naturally and sharply juts into his chin. How his cheekbones sit so prominently and high on his face, framing his features. His sharp, defined nose. And you can’t see from here because he’s looking down at his phone, but his eyelashes are unnaturally long for a man. It’s just unfair, frankly.

Shaking yourself briefly from the trance you were in, you right yourself and approach him.

He looks up to see you before you even have a chance to open your mouth. Now that he's looking at you face on, you can see the shocking blue of his right eye and the paler, soft hue of the other. Not only that but the angry scar that ran down the side of his face, extending from his forehead to the mid part of his cheek, straight through the eye.

You look at it for a split second, surmising that perhaps he's partially sighted or blind in that eye. But you choose not to say anything and instead smile with an awkward wave.

"Hey, you must be Aemond"

He openly drags his eyes over you, from head to toe, just like you did a moment ago without his knowledge. But now that you're standing right in front of him, in the gym gear that you totally don't feel a bit self conscious in, it feels a bit weird.

He doesn't reply for a moment.

"I'm y/n" you say, forcing a smile to your nervous face.

"Hm" he responds lowly, "Baela's friend"

You pull an awkward face and nod.

You feel so stupidly small against this absolute giraffe of a man and you daren't step forward any more, for fear of looking even smaller under his judgemental and indifferent gaze.

He sighs and gestures for you to follow him, seeming disinterested as he looks down at his phone. For a brief second you wonder how this guy keeps his clients if he's this rude, but you shake the thought away, not wanting to judge too quickly.

He leads you into one of the consultation rooms, separate from the rest of the gym. He sits on one of the seats, sighing as if he's had the hardest day in the world and taking a swig of water from his bottle.

Sat across from him, you feel a bit small under his gaze. He's quite intimidating, you now find.

"Have you ever worked out before" he asks flatly.

You shrug, "I've tried I guess, but never super seriously" you laugh awkwardly, but he doesn't return it.

He runs his eyes over you again, as if to say yeah I can see that.

"Stand up. Shoes off. We're going to take your weight and measurements" he orders, going to his bag to grab some things.

It's beyond awkward and quiet in the room with him as he idly takes down your weight, height and current eating habits, which you've had to be more honest about than you'd cared to admit.

Standing in the middle of the room, he twirls his measuring tape on his fingers. He measures your upper body first, which isn't too bad until he gets to your bust. You try and look anywhere else in the room while he measures across it, his fingers landing softly at either arm, taking a note of the measurement. You internally scold yourself, he is so much taller and surely must be able to see right down the sports bra. It only serves to make your face heat up with embarrassment.

If that wasn't enough, he gets to your lower body, measuring your hips and then thighs. He gets to his knees to do it and you resist the urge to pull your hands into fists at the proximity of him to your intimate area, separated only by a thin pair of gym leggings and underwear.

He doesn't seem to bother himself with the awkwardness. And every time you look at his face, he seems indifferent, bored even. Even then, his face is unnaturally beautiful, even with the scar.

He must really not like people.

Aemond sighs having taken all his notes.

"We'll do one training session and see how much weight we can do" he instructs. You nod.

"I expect you to be in the gym four times a week, three in the week and once at the weekend. We'll do one session together a week so I can check your progress"

His tone is so flat, all you can do is nod. He looks at you,

"Got it?"

Your cheeks heat up, "Um, yeah"

"Good"

He leads you outside to the actual gym floor which luckily isn't too busy, side-eyeing you massively when you pull your hair up into a ponytail to get it off your neck.

His large form leads you over to where the mats are kept, haphazardly throwing two to the floor.

He doesn't say anything past one or two word commands and it's incredibly difficult to not look in the mirror in front of you to watch him as he stretches. The way he stretches his arms over his head and it lifts the hem of his shirt a little, showing his happy trail, biceps rippling.

And when he does leg stretches, instructing you to do the same, you can't help but stare at how his thighs are basically bulging out from his sweats. It takes all of your strength and will to not look any higher than that towards his hips.

He watches your form as you try and copy him stretching. And your heart almost leaps into your chest when he uses his hand to move your ankle slightly, so that you put pressure on a certain muscle. But he focuses completely, professional.

Fuck, be professional.

All caution is thrown completely to the wind when he gets you on machines. He demonstrates some of them first, starting with the so-called 'easier' ones, like the inner and outer thigh machines that look way too…suggestive.

Of course, he's got it on a ridiculous weight to demonstrate which makes you scoff a bit. And when you get on the inner thigh machine, it locks into place with your legs spread. You thank every god there is that there's no mirror in front of you on this machine.

"You have to start with your legs spread as much as possible" he states simply, pushing the pads against your legs even further. It makes your eyes widen, sinful thoughts pop up in your head. But before they take root you shake them away.

It's ridiculously hard the first few times and he raises an eyebrow.

"Really?" He mocks a bit, the tiniest of smirks on his face "you're only on 14kg"

"Fuck off" you mutter under your breath. He tuts and changes it to 9kg, bruising your ego a bit. But you finish the set nonetheless.

You think he's a bit of a psycho, because after that little remark he has you on every leg machine available. Making fun every time you have to be on the lowest weight.

After the session, you're aching in places you didn't even know existed and you haven't even rested yet. Knowing full well you'll be achy as fuck tomorrow and even wlrse than right now. The faintest sheen of sweet is visible on your pinkened chest.

"You're weaker than I thought"

He runs his long fingers through his hair and you want to slap that stupid fucking self-indulgent look off his smug face seeing you all out of puff like this.

"Thanks, means a lot" you say sarcastically, drinking from a water bottle. He raises an eyebrow at the attitude.

"I'll send you your workout plan. If you have any issues do me a favour and don't bother me with them" he retorts.

"Charming" you mutter under your breath once he's gone past you. You watch as he walks away, briefly appreciating his broad shoulders, until the sour taste of his poor behaviour settles in. And you huff, texting Baela immediately.

You curse every god there is that you drive a manual car, because right now the thought of having your aching leg pressing on the clutch pedal might actually drive you to mass-murder.

This is going to be a long month.

Taglist: @mrsgrwy @lovelykhaleesiii

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