#liz💘 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

youraverageaemondsimp · 11 months ago

Text

LIZ????????? im GOING INSANE OVER THIS.

HE'S SO AJDISKFKWKDW I'M FERAL

Michael is so nerdy wtf with that twelve thousand whatever minutes ❗❗❗ LIKE BRO JUST SAID A WEEK !!! anyway he's still hot 😳

This was a whole ass ride and I enjoyed every bit of it

Carpe Diem | Michael Gavey x fem!reader

Summary: After himself being ditched by Oliver, they meet once again. Both seemingly skirting around what happened in the Common Room when they last saw one another. | Word Count: 5.1k~ (oops) | Warnings below the cut!

Part Two of Quid Pro Quo!

warnings: virgin michael, oral sex (f receiving), fingering

A/N: I feel...like the word count is overboard but FUCK IT it's my blog 😈

“Greek and Latin both belong to the Indo-European language family, which does not necessarily mean they are similar. The branches are totally different. Whereas Latin belongs to the Romance branch, Greek belongs to the…”

She half-listens to the lecture, caught between Professor Wardon’s monotone ramblings and scribbling whatever bits and pieces she can string together in swirly handwriting, trying to ignore Trevor two rows in front of her, typing loudly on his brand new Macbook that he no doubt got from his well-off parents for Christmas.

Pencil and paper for the peasants, she thinks bitterly.

The laptop she has back in her dorm is clunky, too thick for carrying in her bag, and any notes she makes now will have to be typed up meticulously later. She supposes it’s a good way of getting the information to be irreparably printed into her brain though. That’s the only thing keeping her from going insane.

Which is where she finds herself now, in the wee hours of the morning, her fingers so tired and eyes so strained she feels that all the letters and characters are beginning to merge together.

She's just about to close the damn thing when a notification blares in the bottom right corner of her screen.

‘m_gav_314159265359 is now online��

She presses her lips together to stifle a laugh at the username, it makes her giggle every time. Of course his username is fucking Pi.

After their little ‘happening’ in the Common Room, they'd talked for a bit over MSN, sometimes texting when she had enough credit and even more rarely meeting up at Trinity College campus. Their timetables never seemed to line up very often, so their meetings were quick and over before they could even get settled into really getting to know each other.

It felt strange to have done something so exciting and yet not really know someone.

The memory made her blush. She was never usually that impulsive and brazen. But she didn't regret it.

Everytime Michael saw her, his cheeks flushed almost without her even needing to try. And it felt nice to see someone act like that in her presence.

After lectures had started after Christmas into the New Year and then into Spring, she found herself somewhat self-conscious. Second guessing herself. Wondering if the freedom and calmness of the holiday period had given him a new sense of clarity.

After all, he'd not spoken to her once since lectures had started again.

A heaviness weighed in her chest, bitterly like rejection.

Maybe she was delirious from the time of night, but she felt a surge of courage, desperately wanting to just know if this was going to be more or not.

She felt her cheeks heat somewhat, rubbing the backs of her knuckles against her lips. There was no time to reply before he sent another.

And if what he'd said before didn't make her face burn, that certainly did. She nearly smirked when she thought to herself, 'you mean when I sucked you off in the Common Room?'

But she didn't type that. She decided to have mercy on him, if only a little.

His replies were so blunt and to the point that they were so quintessentially Michael. She found herself wondering if what he'd typed before had been for the intention of making her blush, but she doubted it. He seemed the type to be somewhat oblivious to how words could affect the opposite sex.

Or anything to do with the opposite sex for that matter.

Her stomach fluttered with excitement as she typed off a few quick goodbyes and with a soft, plastic tap, shut her laptop for the night.

“There are no fit guys in my class this semester, fucking livid,” Priya rolls her eyes, nursing a stale pint and a cigarette.

“Did you really expect Modern Languages to be teeming with attractive men?” She smirks in response.

“No. But I at least expected a good shag within the first three months.”

“Does they have to be within our course?”

“No, course not. I'm not lazy as fuck. Can’t be arsed to go off campus.”

She laughs, waving the smoke trail that's formed between their faces, the smell of cigarettes and damp, beer-soaked carpets fill her senses, nursing the only pint she's capable of downing.

“Don't shit where you eat, Priya.”

“Don't you fuckin’ start,” she grins with all her perfect teeth before checking her phone, “fuck, is that the time. Sorry mate you've got like half your pint left-”

“Don't be silly, just go. Whoever you're meeting is bound to have a bigger cock than me anyway.”

“You're a nasty bitch, you know that?” she smiles, standing and pulling her mini-skirt down, “see you later? Catch up?”

“Wouldn't miss it for the world. Have fun!”

“Oh I will!”

She smiles, sipping the stale beer as Priya rushes out the door excitedly tapping the keypads on her phone in reply to a guy no-doubt, nearly running right into a lamppost.

She pulled out her own phone, spotting a new message from the ex-boyfriend she hadn’t heard a peep out of since Freshers Week, groaning with a displeased expression at the first few lines of text that read as if he were desperate. Even over the crackling sound of the speakers and Daniel Powter’s ‘Bad Day’ lulling quietly through the pub, she was still sensitive to the sound of his voice.

“-get me another pint please, Oliver? Thanks.”

She had to crane her neck, half-swivelled on her chair, but it was undoubtedly him. Only one person had that hissy, direct way of speaking, had dirty, blonde hair that touched the nape of his neck and was likely to wear such an…interesting selection of clothes.

Her mouth was barely open before she realised it was Michael, and by then he was too far away to shout from across a busy pub. She found herself with a sort of stupid grin, watching him walk with such a lanky gait, as if walking were an inhuman thing for him to do.

It took her a few moments to text back a reply to her ex before she looked up again, eyebrows furrowed when she saw that whoever Michael had been with, was now umming and ahhing about whether to join the popular lot, for which she recognised Felix Catton amongst them, shockingly ill-dressed in a ‘what happens in Kassiopi stays in Kassiopi’ t-shirt, with a cigarette between his lips that had been inhaled to a nub.

She grimaced. Only rich people could dress so fucking shocking.

And then her heart leapt in a different way when she saw Michael look distantly at Oliver, his hand half-raised in an awkward wave, his face crumbling in a way where she knew he was disappointed and yet, not surprised in the slightest.

It was when Michael pushed his glasses up his nose in a way she couldn’t help but find sweet and go for the door, that she slipped from the stool she was on, a quarter of her pint left, and took off after him.

“Michael!”

The late winter air nipped at her skin, cursing internally that his legs were so fucking long he could stride a hell of a lot further than her.

“Michael!”

It wasn’t hard to see the glint of his glasses lenses off the streetlights once he’d turned to face her, his lips parted in surprise and a heat rising to his cheeks.

He swallowed visibly, “H-hey..”

She felt her own heart rattle in her chest at how easy it was to fluster him, “Hey, you alright?”

For a moment, the self-proclaimed mathematical genius seemed genuinely lost for words, his throat closing up on him like he was having a sort of allergic reaction to the opposite sex. So with all that, he simply nodded, his hands clenched as if not knowing what to do with them.

“Sorry about your mate, that was a shitty thing to do.”

“Oh, he’s…he’s not my mate.”

She nodded, rubbing her hands together to warm them from the chill, “d’you wanna go somewhere?”

Michael’s eyes behind his glasses widened, “like…together?”

“No, I’ll make you go off on your own,” she grinned, “yes together!”

He huffed an embarrassed but elated laugh, and only now her eyes studied his shirt, cocking her head in amusement at the ‘that’s how I roll’ shirt with what looked like a maths equation beneath it. The actual meaning was lost on her, but it was so dorky it made her smile.

“U-uh, my mum bought it me for Christmas...” he muttered quickly to which she cracked an even bigger smile, the two of them laughing quietly for a moment before he spoke up again.

“Do you wanna come to mine?” he asked, and it was so direct it made her blink, her lungs feeling as if they were fluttering, “I mean-my dorm.”

She wet her lips from the dry cold, watching how nervous and twitchy he was. And how it reminded her of the last time they were alone together.

“Like…catch up or something. I-I’ve got alcohol if you-”

“That’d be lovely, Michael.”

He at least seemed grateful that she’d actually replied to save him from rambling, and even cracked a thin-lipped smile himself, clearly and delightfully nervous. Thirty-minutes ago, he’d have never considered this to be the ending to his evening.

Michael’s room is disturbingly tidy, she wonders if he actually even lives here. It’s like those university rooms that they take photos of to advertise the ‘spacious’ and ‘community-driven’ atmosphere of campus life.

At least it was clean, she mused as Michael passed her a bottle of the only alcohol he had, which were lukewarm WKDs.

“Thanks,” she smiles, taking a sugary sip and looking about the room. Michael has since cracked open his own drink, but seems disinterested in it as it rests on his bouncing knee, looking up at her from where he’s sat on his desk chair from under his brow.

His laptop sits shut, pencils in a neat line next to it. His walls are bare, with what she can only assume are blue tack marks from the previous tenant’s last year. With the exception of a wall-mounted calendar next to his desk.

“No posters? Was hoping I could be nosy, see what you like.”

When she turns back to Michael he quickly looks down as if not wanting to be caught staring, “It’d just be maths stuff.”

“And Carol Vorderman?” she teases mindlessly, not catching the way his cheeks go alight.

She hums an amused laugh behind the bottle at her lips, “It’s very tidy.”

When he just replies with a shrug, she scoots off the bed to have a roam about the place, needing only a few steps to cross the room to his bookcase, filled to the brim neatly with books. She runs her finger along some of the spines.

“You’re not going to mess anything up are you?”

She laughs, coming out more of a snort, which makes her cheeks warm, “Sorry. Just curious about your books. ‘Mathematics of Language. Sounds like a bit of me and you.”

There’s that flush again.

That deer in the headlights look.

“Uh…just sounded interesting.”

“And is it?”

“Is it what?”

She smirks, “interesting.”

There’s a silence that for a moment neither of them are able to shake.

Michael swallows visibly, “don’t know yet..”

She sees something in his expression when a playful smile lifts across her face, suddenly the memories and implications of what they’d done before now weighing heavily on them. And all at once, he’s able to smell the body scrub she’d used in the shower that morning and eyes flitting to the glint of her stud earrings. He’d remembered brushing past them with his fingers when her mouth wrapped around his-

“And who says you’re not a languages man?” she presses with a teasing lilt to her voice. The tone and sing-songy nature of her voice has his heart doing backflips, feeling as if he could feel the erratic beating between his ribs.

Michael seems stuck in the position he finds himself as she lazily crosses the room, slipping back on his bed, one hand brushing across his bedsheets and the other setting the drink on his bedside table. For a long moment, his eyes couldn’t leave her. The whole situation was suitably extraordinary. A girl who had come onto him (to say the least) was now in his room, sat on his bed, touching his things…all while wearing something he personally deemed unsuitable for the cold, a dress with black tights beneath.

She turns her head to him, smiling, “you seem nervous.”

He swallows, trying to claw at any sort of reply, “is that an accusation?”

It comes out a bit harsher than he probably expected, but instead of recoiling, she bites her lip as if to stifle a full-toothed grin, “an observation.”

He shrugs, “just never had a girl in here before.”

“Worried I’ll mess up your feng shui?”

“My what?”

She genuinely laughs at that, nearly smacking her head on the bed frame, but a hearty chuckle all the same. And Michael doesn’t know why his own cheeks start to heat up at that, taking this opportunity that her eyes are shut to look down at her legs. For some reason, making her laugh just makes him want to try more.

He’s never had that feeling before. Wanting to make someone laugh.

“No, really, my what.”

She meets his eyes brightly with her own, “feng shui, it’s like…the vibe of a room, a space. Like, how you place your furniture or whatever.”

Michael raises a brow, his lip quirking on one side, “sounds like bullshit.”

“It probably is.” she laughs.

“Can I ask you something?”

The quick u-turn and tone in conversation has her eyes meet his nervously, her interest and curiosity piqued. Her hands find themselves nervously stroking her legs, the texture of the tights providing some level of comfort, “yeah sure.”

She can't quite figure out what expression he's trying to put on. His brows are furrowed in judgement and a curious sense of guarding himself. And yet he's sat back in his seat, looking at her like he is trying to figure her out, and yet wants to know why she is the way she is.

“Why did you do that?”

She blinks at the accusatory and monotone rhythm of his way of speaking.

“Do what.”

“Don't play stupid. Doesn't suit you.”

She nearly scoffs at that, “what? Why have you gone all weird all of a sudden?”

“Why did you do…that at the Christmas party?”

She shrugs and shakes her head, as if the answer should be obvious, “because I wanted to? And you didn't seem to mind either.”

“I didn't-that's not the point!” he retorts, “are you genuinely taking the mick out of me?”

“You've asked that before and no.”

“Well why then?”

“Is it not enough to really think that I find you interesting? And nice to talk to?”

Of all the things she expected Michael Gavey to go quiet at, it certainly wasn't that. But she watches him all the same, the line between his brow slowly disappearing as his frown vanishes.

She cocks her head, “and not bad looking either.”

“Stop it.”

“I mean it!”

“Nobody wants the fucking maths virgin-”

“Michael. I don't give a fuck about that,” she says calmly, “Hell, I was a virgin not that long ago. You keep saying ‘nobody wants the virgin’ but you can't keep using that as an excuse just because you're embarrassed you haven't done anything.”

He sighs, like he doesn't want to believe her. And she can hardly believe how self-deprecating and yet direct this man can be in a single breath.

“Look, if you don't want to talk to me, I can always go-”

Almost as soon as she is stood, he is too, one large hand wrapped around her forearm, “No.”

They've been sat so long, she had almost forgotten how tall he was, and the difference between them briefly has her tummy doing back flips. From here, she is able to smell whatever body wash he uses, and if she had to guess, probably blue radox.

“No, I didn't say I wanted you to go. Stay…”

He doesn't say ‘please’ once, and yet she's able to hear the desperation.

When she doesn't move, his grip loosens, and she feels tingly all over when his hand slides up her arm.

“Can I kiss you again like last time?”

She almost smiles in adoration at how he asks it, but for the sake of saving him the embarrassment of thinking she's laughing at him, settles for a simple and gentle nod of her head. She is sure she's not really thought it through. Weighing up the pros and cons isn't exactly the first thing on her mind right now though as Michael has to bend significantly to crash his lips to hers.

Much like last time, he is a bit endearingly clumsy, his lips moving quickly on hers like he's running a race with his mouth. This time there is no pool table for him to cage her against, but all the same his legs take him forwards until her knees hit the edge of his bed.

By the time he is on top of her, she's managed to weave her fingers through his hair, her nose nudging against his glasses every now and then, and guiding him with her own movements to slow down and enjoy the moment, with no need to rush.

She knows that secretly he's probably just excited.

But this time, his hands are extremely active.

She's unable to help the breathy whimper between desperate kisses as he tentatively squeezes her thighs, not quite brave enough to go beneath the dress yet and drifting upwards to her breasts, touching and clutching fondly, as if any harsh grip or movement and she'll get up and leave.

He's still unsure, maybe even nervous, she can feel it.

It's here she realises that whether he is doing it subconsciously or not, she can feel the strained bulge at the front of his trousers rubbing up against the inside of her leg, probably chasing friction that feels too good for him to feel lucid.

“Can I see you…” he asks as his lips break away.

She doesn't even reply, she just complies, pulling the sleeves of her dress over her shoulders and the bra straps along with it. The position she's in making it near impossible to reach behind her.

If she could print his face in her mind as she pulled her dress down to her ribs, she would. He looks entirely mesmerised in adoration, and once the only thing covering her breasts is the thin material of her bra, Michael looks at her with an almost dream-like gaze.

His hand moves before his mouth, or at least before he catches himself, “Is it oka-”

“Course..” she says far too quickly.

All she can hear as Michael pulls the thin straps of her bra fully down her arms, exposing her breasts, is his breath, staggered and uneven. His hand easily covers one of her breasts, squeezing experimentally, his thumb gently drifting over her nipple and watching them stiffen to needy buds.

She doesn’t need to look between them to see how hard he is, she can feel him against her thigh, where her dress has since ridden up to her hips.

His glasses knock against her chest as he leans down, all-too-carefully covering her nipple with his tongue, like he is trying to print the taste of them to memory.

There is an unconscious desire to press her thighs together, but she settles for rolling her hips, causing Michael’s voice to rumble against her chest where he mouths at her breasts. One hand forever stays at the one he isn’t paying lip service to, testing the weight and shape in his palms.

It feels like all sensitivity has been turned up to 1000. He is so slow, so unsure, that every languid movement has every nerve feel as if it’s on fire. A selfish part of her wants him to go faster, so used to the fervent, almost rushing nature of who she’d been with before. It was never like this, borderline worshipping.

“Michael…” she breathes, rolling her hips against him experimentally, rewarded with a low whine from him.

She watched as her nipple slips from his lips in the most erotic manner she’d ever seen, before his clear eyes are on her again.

“Is this okay? Am I doing something wr-”

“No,” she shakes her head quickly, “feels nice.”

Michael licks his lips, a sign of how nervous he is, “Can I do something else?”

He is so eager to please, to learn, that looking at his face as he asks she can hardly deny him. And her head moves without effort, nodding as she watches his hand disappear beneath the hem of her dress to pull her tights down her legs.

It then becomes obvious what he wants to do.

“Are you sure, I-”

“I’m sure.” he adds, rolling the black nylon down her legs until all that is left between Michael and her bare skin below her hips, is her underwear. A flush of embarrassment engulfs her face at the thought of how aroused she might be, knowing he has no experience, she doesn’t want to scare him off. The tender and yet needy way he’d mouthed at her breasts had her body all warm, and she can’t remember the last time she’d been this ready for anything.

“I just want to do the same for you as you did for me. Make you feel good.”

And that certainly doesn’t help that feeling either.

She’s not sure if she will get tired of the sight of his long, lithe fingers gripping her thighs apart, and for a moment she finds herself entranced by the view, until he is pressing sweet kisses to the inside of them. Open-mouthed, with an addictive cooling sensation when he pulls away, only to edge closer to the centre of her underwear.

Her breath remains stuck in her chest as she watches him navigate the female body, mapping it out in his head. She knows better than to say anything, knowing him as she does now, he is immensely competitive, and wants to get things right. It’s likely if she stepped in to instruct him, it would only embarrass him more. So she stays quiet, and lets him come to her.

His thumb dips beneath the leg hole of her underwear, “Can I?”

She swallows visibly, now for some reason it’s her being the nervous one. Possibly because the first time, it was her doing something for him. And now, it is very much the feeling of being studied, of being watched to see what made her tick. A feeling that has her desperate for some kind of fulfilment. Anything.

She lifts her hips to help him slide her underwear down her legs, her cheeks warming at being so utterly exposed to him herself for the first time. There is a finality to it that she just can’t quite put into words. A point of no return.

A full body shudder made its way through her when she felt his thumb trail across the spot where her leg met her hip, trailing the line there that led to her sensitive womanhood.

Michael looked as if he was being presented with an equation, she could practically hear the thoughts in his head. But beyond not entirely knowing what to do, it didn't dissuade his curiosity.

She could tell though, that he didn't know what to do.

Michael nearly flinched when she took his hand, encouraging his thumb to touch her bundle nerves hidden between her folds.

She watched him as his thumb cautiously collected the wetness that had begun to come out of her and used it to gently apply pressure to her clit. Breath was hot in her chest as he started slowly.

“Does that feel good?” He asked softly.

As soon as she nodded, confirming how pleasurable it was, Michael's first reaction was to go faster. And so he did. Like he was trying to light a fire.

“No, no, no, it's fine to go slow.”

“Shit, sorry…”

“It’s fine,” she smiled, “just more gentle.”

The panic on his face had been clear. But at her gentle instruction, she saw him relax, taking her words and applying gentle pressure in slower, tighter circles. And it seemed Michael was now fully aware of its intended effect, as his eyes were able to lift up to hers underneath the rim of his glasses to see her breathing had increased, and blood rushing to her cheeks.

It felt incredible to watch his expressions, she thought. Seeing the little thoughts rattling around in his head, to be able to awaken something in him for the first time. But it also felt utterly exposing, and every time his thumb drew circles against her clit, she heard the soft click of her arousal that made the room feel as if she were inside an oven.

Michael’s lips parted, his head moving as if pulled by an invisible string to her core.

“Can I…?” he asked again, but more uncertain this time.

The anticipation gnaws so much at her skin, combined with the way he is taking his time that she has become somewhat impatient, so it’s completely involuntary when she nods her head and somehow manages a whispered ‘yes’.

She doesn't really, really know what's wrong with her. She's had head before. But when he dives between her thighs so quickly and eagerly, his thumbs almost pulling her skin gently to expose as much of her as he can, and swiping his tongue over the centre. From her entrance, all the way to her bundle of nerves.

It has her breath stuck in her chest, instinctively reaching down to run her fingers through his sandy hair. Even the slightest tug on it has a low groan vibrating through her where his mouth moves slowly against her.

“Michael…”

At first he is careful, taking the instruction she'd given him before and applying it to tasting her instead. But his eyes flit up to her when she breathes his name like that, so he redoubles his efforts, gripping the underside of her thighs to tug her towards him in a teasing rhythm.

She didn't really know what to expect, assuming he hadn't done anything like this before. But Michael seems eager to please, as he nudges between her sensitive folds to tease her entrance with his tongue, the sharp shape of his nose butting against her bud with every movement, as little as it is.

With one hand in his hair, her hips move against his face, the glasses perched on his face hanging askew. And all she can see is that his eyes are closed as he tastes her, every now and then he makes a noise between a whine and a moan, as if he didn't want the experience to end.

Dragging his tongue back up to her bud to focus his attention there, Michael experimentally slides one long, slender digit easily inside her, pleased at the breathy sound it seems to elicit from her. Two feelings at once, just as she'd given him before.

“Oh, shit-”

He fights the urge to smirk when he hears that. She's so warm and wet, that it's easy to slide in the second, feeling her walls suck him in as they clamp around his fingers moving in and out of her. It's a feeling he couldn't describe if he tried, and he daren't think of what she'd feel like around his cock, or if she'd let him.

She can feel her stomach muscles tightening, an orgasm bubbling up to the surface when he gains confidence, flicking her swollen clit with his tongue and pistoning two fingers with a pornographically wet smack into her over and over. Brushing that sweet spot inside that he manages to find sometimes, seemingly without realising.

“Michael - fuck - I'm gonna-”

He groans as her fingers tug at his hair, her hips grinding herself against him and chasing that delicious friction as her high barrels through her, sparking pleasure down each notch of her spine until it fizzles out through her limbs.

She can feel Michael grinding himself against the bed, searching for his own, as he maintains his actions, lapping up everything she gives him with determination. When she dares to look down at him, as if he can sense it, his eyes open to watch her expression, the blue of his eyes nearly entirely eclipsed by black.

As if something had been awoken in him that even he couldn't recognise he'd wanted.

With one last swipe of his tongue over her centre, Michael withdraws his fingers, gripping her thigh with them and making the skin there glisten.

Her cheeks feel as if they're on fire when he rights himself to his knees before her, looking down at her with admiration at how she is still essentially half naked. The tightness at the front of his jeans makes it obvious how he felt about what he'd just done.

Engrossed by watching her breasts move as she breathes heavily, the slight shimmer of sweat on her collarbones, Michael raises his hand to his face, using his palm to wipe her slick from his lips and chin.

She breaks the silence with a tired laugh when he pushes his glasses back up his face, one half of the lenses completely fogged up. It prompts him to laugh too.

“Was I okay?”

This time she doesn't hold back her smile at the way he asks it. As if she hadn't just shaken with the force of her high all over his face.

She nods, “More than okay.”

He seems genuinely relieved.

She bites her lip as she looks at him, his cheeks all tinged pink, his mind reeling at what they'd just done.

He doesn't know what to say or do, and she can see it.

“Do you fancy having a girlfriend, Michael?” she asks.

“Uh…I've never had one, not properly anyway.”

“Yes, but would you like one?”

She watches the bob of his Adam's Apple as he swallows heavily, “Y-yeah…”

She pushes herself up to meet him where he's knelt, admiring his features for a moment, before leaning forward to kiss him, encouraging him to kiss her back. It takes a second for him to respond, but when he does, it's needy, teeth and tongues clashing as the musky taste of her is captured on him.

“Tell you what, after your exams, when you can relax, I'll be your proper girlfriend. In every way..”

His breath comes out shuddered against her lips, “what do you mean?..”

She wets her lips as she smirks, “I think you know exactly what I mean, Michael.”

She doesn't think she'll ever get tired of seeing him blushed and bothered.

And when they're both dressed, sharing awkward giggles and nervous kisses, she gives him a look with a cock of her head as he checks his wall-mounted Countdown-themed calendar.

“What you looking for?”

“My last exam is the 15th. There's exactly 12,246 minutes between now and then and all I'm going to be thinking about is whether you'll really be my girlfriend or not.”

She nearly smiles at the fact he does the maths so quickly. 8 days, 12 hours and 6 minutes until his last exam. And even though she's made it clear she wants him, he's still unsure.

She meets his gaze, unable to hide the grin off her face, “Better get studying then. You've only got 12,245 minutes left until you've got me.”

General Taglist: @aemondsfavouritebastard @bellstwd @blairfox04 @buckybarnesb-tch @castellomargot @hb8301 @jamespotterismydaddy @mochi-rose @natty2017 @nenelysian@randomdragonfires @risefallrise @thelittleswanao3 @theoneeyedprince @thetrueblackheart @tsujifreya@urmomsgirlfriend1 @valeskafics @valleyof-goldenlilies @virtualsweetsqueen @watercolorskyy

#michael gavey x reader #fic recs #liz bb 💘#mae's recs #moots 💞

1K notes · View notes

youraverageaemondsimp · 1 year ago

Text

FUCCKKK I CAN'T BELIEVE WE ONLY HAVE ONE CHAPTER LEFT :( I DON'T WANT THIS TO ENDD AAAAA.

Everyone is just pursuing what they want instead of being forced to do something they don't want to and I'm glad for it! Though I'll miss them skating as partners 😭

The smut, the feels, the everything, I just love it.

Liz you're literally an amazing writer oh my god.

Also to reply to your reblog response, DON'T WORRY YOU DIDN'T SCARE ME, I didn't see the update cause it wouldn't appear on my dash for an odd reason (tumblr keeps doing that with the people I follow) BUT YEAH 💞 I'm gonna be so emotional when this ends cause they are literally my fav dynamic EVER

A Perfect Score - Chapter 9 - Thawed Out | FigureSkating!AU

Summary: The finals loom, and you and Aemond have to navigate and come to terms with what the future might look like after | Word Count: 7.9k~ | Warnings under the cut~

Series Masterlist | Links to my Taglists: General Taglist | Aemond Targaryen Taglist

Warnings: *deep breath* swearing, innuendo, teasing, trauma from a past relationship, dom/sub dynamics, daddy kink, dirty talk, pussy slapping, fingering, degradation, praise, orgasm denial, cum play, doggy style, choking, spit kink, aftercare

A/N: I don't want to let go of my babies and I can't believe this is the penultimate chapter😭

Sleeping on a bed with no bed sheets felt incredibly silly.

So instead Aemond had dragged his feet to the sofa, where the long-forgotten blanket was and cocooned you both into it on the bed.

Unlike the hotel, where you and Aemond were up all night, not able to keep your hands off each other. Here, in the dim light of your apartment, quiet, with rain tapping at the window, you both basked in the afterglow of the intimacy you gained from just having sex once.

The sex that consummated this relationship.

Which was still something you needed to ask him about.

Helaena had told you as much, he wasn't one for relationships after Alys.

But he told you he loved you.

Surely that was different.

You were both so exhausted, each of you fell asleep in the position Aemond tucked you in as. His arm slung over your waist to your middle, his palm holding one of your breasts in such an overtly non-sexual way, and just as a means of holding.

And like that you stayed, pressed together.

Fucking spooning. Something you never would have imagined you and Aemond doing a few months before.

You almost jumped out of your skin when in the early morning your phone buzzed under the bare pillow, sounding so much louder than usual.

"Seven fucking Hells, that scared the shit out of me"

You heard Aemond rumble low in his chest behind you. His voice was thick with grogginess, but it was clear he'd been awake some time, as his finger continued to trace the skin of your arm like he'd been doing it for hours. Now in an awake state, your skin ripples with goosebumps.

You huff a laugh at him, rub your eyes and pull your phone out, greeted with a text, or rather a whole wall of them, from El. Asking if you're okay given you tried to call her about four or five times in one go.

You smile at the messages, quickly typing a reply and sending it off, the limbs that are exposed to the air prickling with a chill.

"Your mattress…" Aemond starts, his forearm over his eyes when you turn to him, "...is so fucking uncomfortable"

In good comedic timing when you shuffle closer to him you're greeted with a spring in your side and a loud squeak.

"Missing your memory foam, king-size goodness?" You prod, pressing a kiss to his jaw before resting your head on his shoulder.

"Hm" he smiles, all in good fun, tugging you closer with an arm around your waist.

"Hope you don't mind me sleeping over"

You look up at him through your lashes, lips pulling up at the sides at the sight of him, still half naked, hair tousled in loose waves.

"And what was I going to do? Cast you back out onto the streets as soon as you said I love you?"

"Alright, alright. No need to be sarky about it" he smiles, thumbing some hair from your face and behind your ear.

"As if you're not sarky all the time" you smile back.

It feels so nice, beyond actual words, to be with him intimately like this. Just cuddling. Unabashedly together.

Which reminds you to bring it up before you leave for the day.

"How did you know where I live?" You ask.

Aemond flushes a bit, piquing your curiosity as you sit up, pulling the blanket to your chest to cover your nudity.

"Um, I didn't?" He replies, slightly embarrassed, "not specifically anyway"

You cock your head, "you didn't? So how-"

You grin widely, mischief glimmering in your eyes as you see how embarrassed he is.

"Did you knock on stranger's doors? Trying to find me?"

"Shut up" he groans, the flush on his cheeks extending to the tips of his ears as he turns away.

"Aw, Aemond!"

"Don't. It was so fucking embarrassing"

"Don't be embarrassed, it's cute!"

He looks at you again, still flushed but with an unamused expression.

"I'm not cute"

You press your lips together, trying not to smile or laugh.

It almost makes you forget about what happened. Especially when his face softens like that, his eyes half shut looking at you in a way that makes your insides flutter.

Aemond inhales sharply.

"Are you going to tell Rhaenys?" He asks.

He doesn't specify what. But both of you know.

You bite your lip in thought. In truth, you'd been wondering all night if you should.

"No" you say quietly with a slight shake of your head, "No, I…checked the terms of my contract and as much as I hate to say it, Otto is right…

"I have to complete my contract. If I want to get paid and signed again anyway"

Aemond sighs, playing with the ends of your hair.

"Doesn't mean you can't tell her"

"I know but, I just don't see the point" you say, shivering when his touch bristles against your skin, "Truthfully I was even torn about going to anyone with the proof…because I know it wouldn't just hurt Otto, it would-"

You pause, looking down into your lap.

It would hurt Aemond. His siblings. And Alicent as well.

"Hey" he whispers, taking your chin softly in his grasp and turning you to meet his gaze, "We'll be alright"

His concerned look. Softened voice.

You swallow thickly.

Even if you did go to the press. Aemond wouldn't hate you for it.

For some reason that stings a bit more than the other way around.

Still. You can't bring yourself to bring any kind of distress to him or his family, just because of what Otto did.

Even though it has bruised your confidence.

"Come here"

You force a tiny smile to your face, going to lay next to him as his arm lays outstretched. Aemond snakes his arms around your waist, pulling you on top of him, one hand stroking your hair in a motion of tenderness that makes your heart ache.

“Do you really want to quit skating?” you ask carefully.

Aemond sighs, thoughtfully, “I think so. I want to do something different with my life. Go to King's Landing Uni or something...and off my own back as well not just because I'm some bigwig's son”

You can imagine that.

A smile makes its way to your face, imagining Aemond in his classes, perhaps with some reading glasses on, frantically taking notes.

“Why, will you miss me?” he asks, and you can hear the smirk in his tone, without looking at him.

“Maybe” you reply, with the same playful inflection, “I like skating with you”

Aemonds hands drop to cup your waist, just above the curve of your hips. It makes you realise, that both of you are just completely bare, unabashedly, together.

He laughs, “I can still throw you around if you like”

You raise your head, pulling a face at the horrendous joke with eyebrows furrowed. You’re greeted pleasantly though, with the image of Aemond’s eyes crinkling up as he laughs.

Playfully swatting his chest, “You’re foul”

Pulling the sheets around your sides, you pull yourself up to straddle him, hands running over his taut stomach, feeling the familiar pull of lust inside that Aemond seems to feel as well.

With his hands still on your hips, his gaze glances over you, taking in every little bit of skin.

Until he looks down, looking all small again.

“What’s wrong?” you ask carefully, one hand on the side of his face.

He covers yours with his, taking it away from his face to his chest.

“Sorry, it’s just…” he starts, swallowing in between nervously, like he’s having a hard time expressing exactly what he wants to say. You just sit, listening intently. Waiting for him to be ready.

“She was always…you know…on top”

Your lips part in shock, wanting to say something but not knowing what on earth to even pull together in response.

The only thing you can do, is apologise and get off him.

For reminding him how it feels to be small…and manipulated.

“Aemond, I-fuck, I’m sorry-”

“No”

He keeps you there, his fingers curling over your flesh, tugging your core to his length, but his gaze is concentrated on your face, not on any other part of you.

“Stay like this, please…” he says, his voice barely above a whisper, and his Adam's apple bobbing as he tries to swallow over the lump that forms.

“But, Aemond-”

“She’d never let me” he mutters, blinking up at you, “I think it was one of her ways of controlling me…” he glances over your skin reverently, his thumbs tracing your torso, the sensation of his hands gliding over you making you shiver.

“It’s different with you” warmth blooms as he says that, “It could never feel that way with you”

It feels like you’re teetering over the edge when he says that. Tummy fluttering, with adrenaline burning through your veins.

Your eyes drop to your hand that’s flat over his heart, able to feel the thrum of it beating beneath your touch. Gently, as if any sudden movement will startle him, your fingers run down his torso, watching his muscles clench and flex beneath his pale skin.

He doesn’t stop you.

He hardens underneath you, hissing with pleasure when your hand wraps around his cock, pumping him slowly, his neck contracts as desperate whines slip from his mouth.

“Please - don’t tease me, Princess”

You look at him with a mischievous glimmer, his tone igniting something buried deep. Something barely exposed. Fingers tighten around his rapidly hardening length, achingly ready. Shuddered, frantic little breaths spill from his lips.

The amount of trust he is affording you right now, does not go unnoticed.

And as much as you want to tease him though, you cannot find it in yourself to, when he’s being so vulnerable with you.

Later maybe.

“Alright” you smile, now having stroked him to full hardness, his length swollen, aching for fulfillment.

“But only because you asked so nicely”

It was easy to get dressed and get everything together, except for Aemond. Once the morning had passed, your old bedroom hot and humid with sex, Aemond was reduced to wearing his dried and musty smelling clothes he’d been sodden in the previous day.

It was still drizzly outside as you pulled the door shut, having left a note inside for El when she inevitably got back from her Dad’s. But luckily, Aemond had parked his car down the street, so there was no need to walk.

You smile somewhat at the notion that Aemond only had an idea of where you lived. Hastily parked his car and knocked on every single door, just to find your apartment.

There's those flutters again.

Not unlike Aemond, his car is pristine. Spotless inside and out. Not that you expected any less.

If it was any other day, it'd be a normal drive.

But your nerves were higher than they'd ever been before. And Aemond had noticed the incessant bouncing of your leg.

The hand that was previously on the gear stick shifts to your knee, squeezing gently.

"I called Mum. Otto isn't there. And he won't come back, okay?"

You look over, seeing his gaze solely on the road, but his thumb circling the inner part of your leg.

"You sure?..."

He nods, "Course. It's Mum's house, not his"

Point taken.

Your thumbs overlap one another repeatedly, nerves still nibbling at your insides.

“Sorry” you mutter under your breath, “I just don’t want to see him”

Aemond laughs, “You think any of us do?” his hand briefly leaves your knee to change gears, slowing down as the security gate to his house opens with a click.

Seeing the house again, and you hate to say it, but it sets you on edge. It was only yesterday you left, but it seems like a lifetime. And after what happened, it’s like returning to something that won’t be the same, and you won’t know until you’re inside if that’s a good thing or not.

Ping.

Your phone vibrates in your lap.

Was the information suitable? - L.S

Aemond looks over briefly, having heard your phone go off, but his gaze doesn’t linger, letting you tell him if you want to in your own time.

You sigh, thumbs hovering over the screen.

“It’s Larys…” you mumble, swallowing over the lump that forms.

It’s Aemond turn to sigh as he pulls in and pulls up the handbrake.

“Probably wondering why it’s not hit the press yet” he muses, fingers tapping on the steering wheel.

“Why doesn’t he just leak it to the press?” you ask, eyebrows furrowed at Aemond, who returns your question with a shrug.

“I imagine it’s more newsworthy if it doesn’t come from him” he replies, rubbing his temple on the marred side with his fingers, like he has a headache, “It’d cause quite the stir. One of Otto’s employees exposing his wrongdoings…”

Aemond always knows everyone’s ulterior motive, it seems.

You can’t tell if that’s a skill, or a curse. Knowing what everyone is thinking. Being able to guess why a person finds you useful.

You swipe the message away, planning on simply ignoring him.

“You’re not going to reply?” he asks.

“No” you shake your head, “No, I won’t”

Even though Aemond had prepared you in the car, that Otto would most certainly not be inside, nor would ever return, it was still nerve-wracking to step through the doors again and back into the almost clinical feeling of the Targaryen home.

To your surprise though, when you stepped across the threshold, without any screams or cries of relief from Aemond’s family, you felt somewhat calm. You imagine Aemond had pre-warned them to not make such a big deal out of it, and for that, you were extremely grateful.

There were various murmurs from the kitchen, speaking in low voices and obviously unaware of your arrival.

Aemond’s hand on your arm made you jump, you were so distant, the trauma of the day’s past, and what it had all meant, flashed quickly past your eyes.

“We don’t have to practice today, okay?” he said quietly, “do you want a drink?”

You nodded, following him to the kitchen, “I’d also like to talk to your Mum…about everything, if that’s okay”

He seemed confused, but nodded anyway, wondering what it might be you’d want to speak to his Mum about without him.

But he didn’t prod for more information.

In the kitchen, all the children that were home were gathered at the breakfast table, speaking to Alicent in a hushed manner, both Helaena and Aegon’s brows were furrowed. Aegon’s in anger, and Helaena’s with worry. But both softened when their violet, sharp eyes clapped on you in the doorway.

“Gods - you’re back -” Helaena nearly tripped over herself sliding off her stool and making for you, throwing her arms around your neck like she thought you were really, truly gone. It briefly knocks the air out of you, hands hanging in the air. Aemond can’t help but press his lips together, trying not to laugh.

“We missed you” Helaena says with a relieved smile once she pulls away.

“Some of us” Aegon jokes, a smirk pulling at his lips, not revealing his teeth.

You scrunch your nose at him, pulling a face, knowing it’s all in good fun.

Alicent’s sad brown eyes don’t change, as she forces a reassuring smile to her face, “Are you alright?”

You feel Aemond’s hand on the small of your back. Reassuring but at the same time, lighting a fire in your belly.

How does his mere touch do that?

“I’m fine” you say quickly, “I was wondering if we could speak…”

Alicent nods, leaning against the kitchen island.

“...in private”

Quietly, the Targaryen siblings begin to vacate the kitchen. Aemond throws you a small smile, to let you know he is not far if you need him, before being practically dragged out by Helaena, who doesn’t do a very good job of whispering too quietly, ‘did you tell her, did you tell her?’. Only for Aemond to sigh and grumble, ‘Yes, leave me alone’.

Once alone, Alicent slides a mug of tea across the counter to you, which you accept, holding your hands around it, with a smile, looking down at the way the steam ribbons up from the scalding liquid.

“I believe you are owed an apology” Alicent starts.

Shaking your head, “It’s not you who needs to apologise. Not in the slightest”

“In any case” she smiles, like a mother would do, “I apologise”

Alicent inhales deeply, “It is not the first time my father has exercised his power over women” she muses, a mug of coffee in one of her slender fingers, “but I dare say I hope it is the last”

Your fingernails tap on the mug.

“It troubles me, what has been done done to Floris” you start, broaching the subject as carefully as you can, “since I am close to her family I…feel somewhat responsible”

Alicent listens, tucking a stray wavy lock behind her ear, pink lips pressed together.

“Please don’t misunderstand me, I don’t ask this of you, it’s directed at him, but-” you sigh, realising you’re rambling, “-I’d like for him to pay for her medical expenses associated with the accident”

You don’t dare look up at Alicent, knowing how soft, gentle and kind she is, but also fearing she may see you differently.

“In my view, it’s the least he can do, for what happened to her”

“I completely agree” Alicent says quickly, immediately trying to quell any fear of repercussions for asking what you have.

She smiles warmly when you lock eyes, “I do” she reassures once again, her well-manicured nails tapping against her mug, “I’ll call my father tonight. Give him the terms”

You nod, sparing Alicent a small smile, a grateful one.

“Thank you”

After a moment, Alicent sighs sitting down on the stool her daughter was previously propped upon.

“Aemond has expressed he wishes to leave the industry, after the championship” Alicent says, with a layer of sadness to her tone, her deep brown eyes staring as a blank part of the room. As if she is trying, with all her will, not to fall apart.

“I must say I cannot blame him, given all that has happened” she adds, “a small part of me feels terrible, that I might have forced him subconsciously or not into skating, just for him to…come to hate it”

You look down at your mug, knowing she’d see right through you if you lied and said he did enjoy it. Especially when he’d expressed as such in confidence, that he didn’t.

“He’s told me he wants to go to University” Alicent continues.

You breathe relief, that she already knows. That Aemond had already broached this subject.

“Yes, he told me as well”

Alicent smiles at you, warmly.

“I can see you both like each other very much”

Understatement of the year, you think, with a flushed smile.

“Whatever he wants to do, I’ll support” you say, with conviction in your words.

And all his mother has to say in reply is, “thank you”.

The next few days at the Targaryen household were nothing short of strange, in the best way possible.

Without Otto's looming and domineering presence, they seemed much more like the family you saw that evening after the semi-finals. A well-rounded unit.

Happy.

Aegon socialised in the living spaces a lot more, and sometimes watched you and Aemond practise. Though most of the time he'd crinkle his nose at how affectionate his younger brother was being, pretending to gag.

Helaena's relationship with Alicent, previously a little strained, had even improved.

You'd often see them in the kitchen, flicking through the magazine for skating outfits, as Helaena had expressed wanting to enter the Singles competition next year.

It made you happy to see them thrive.

Aegon distancing himself from skating, working on which of his side-hustles he could turn into a proper career.

Helaena pursuing Singles.

And Aemond, though he'd expressed a desire to leave the industry after the final, with the way he approached training now, you'd be mistaken for thinking he loved it.

Larys had tried to email a few more times, wondering why the truth hadn't yet hit the press.

So you blocked him.

And Otto as well. Not like he'd ever try and reach out.

Evenings in the Targaryen household without him were pleasant, almost unbearably so.

Eating at the table was enjoyable.

No tension.

Just laughter and smiles, and Aemond's large hand wrapped over your leg, just above your knee, in a way that never failed to make you squeeze them together.

You'd never wanted someone so incessantly this bad before.

Truthfully, that part sort of daunted you.

To be so overtly, unapologetically sexual with someone, was very new for you. Despite having had conquests, even boyfriends, in the past, nothing felt quite as good as laying down the borders, and unleashing this newly discovered part of you.

Not like Aemomd minded either.

In fact, he certainly didn't.

In the nights since your return, you'd barely stayed in the guest room Alicent originally gave you. Instead, Aemond had invited you into his.

It was largely how you'd imagined it.

Spotless, well-dusted, with various books stacked up, all neat with the spines bended perfectly and uncracked. Noticeably, ordered alphabetically. With various subjects. Philosophy. History. Something he'd expressed interest in when he'd searched King's Landing Uni's Prospectus.

His room felt warm, with earthy tones, and pops of black, much like his clothing.

He explained that although there was a dog bed in his room, Vhagar never came up here anymore.

"Dumb thing can't get up the marble stairs"

Which you'd laughed at.

And then called him 'cute' again when he confessed that sometimes he would carry her, as large and awkward as she was to hold, all the way up to his room when she'd start whining at the bottom of the stairs.

He didn't like being called 'cute'.

But tolerated it.

After training tired you both out, learning the difficult routine for the final, you and Aemond had climbed the staircase groggily and spent more than a few moments in his en-suite.

'Showering'.

It felt wholly intimate, freshly showered, laying in his bed and wearing one of his shirts, which seemed to envelop your body in its entirety to your mid thigh.

Felt nice.

Like a relationship.

It was a bit daunting, in the best way possible.

His bed smelled just like him. His sandalwood aftershave that you were able to catch a whiff of whenever you practised together.

With his pillow tucked under your chin, you smiled at your phone as the messages from El were piling in.

Your eyes flit over to where Aemond is. Standing in front of the mirror in the en-suite. He's pressing a cold cloth to the marred side of his face, where he still sometimes feels a small bit of pain, despite having had his glycerol injections not that long ago.

Before the tour.

He never spoke about his pain. Which was very 'Aemond' of him, you thought.

Fucking bitch. Using that against you.

Your face heats instantly.

"What you smiling about?" Aemond asks, padding over in just his sweatpants, tied at the front, and absolutely nothing else. He slides into his bed next to you with a satisfied groan, hand around your middle to pull you onto your side.

You smile, shooting off a quick message along the lines of 'shut your whore mouth' to El, before turning your head to Aemond, tucking your hips back against his.

"Just talking to El"

His hand squeezes your hip, "Stop. That" he warns, with a deadpan expression.

"What?" You ask innocently, through your eyelashes, trying to bite back a smile.

"Don't you 'what' me. You know exactly what you're doing"

"I have no idea what you're talking about" you smirk, resting your head on the pillow facing the TV.

"Hm" he clicks his tongue in false-annoyance, grabbing the remote. Netflix floods the screen, auto-playing the first thing that comes on, which happens to be Mean Girls. He simply wrinkles his brows and states he's never seen it, trying to ignore the way he's gained a semi-erection merely from the movement of your ass against him.

As the movie progresses, your interest is quickly redirected to your phone, followed by a yawn.

"Am I that boring?" He smirks, his face propped on his palm.

You show him the screen, "been watching some of your Mum's old performances"

He raises an eyebrow, "oh yeah?"

You nod, scrubbing to a particular video, "This one is my favourite. The one where she competed at Highgarden, and she wore green. Pissed the Tyrells right off" you snicker.

Aemond fights the urge to roll his eye, "The Tyrells are a delicate bunch" he muses.

You watch the video of Alicent while Aemond's head moves back to the movie. She was much younger, gracefully owning the ice in her dark green outfit. Looking so happy, so proud of herself.

And it was her last performance.

She was already pregnant by then.

You're struck then with the notion of how similar Alicent and Aegon actually look, with the exception of the colouring, their features are dead on.

Aemond on the other hand, has much sharper features. And a part of you wonders where he gets that from.

Perhaps this elusive sister?

"That is so dumb" Aemond muses.

"What is?"

He scoffs, pinching the bridge of his nose, "Netflix recommended this one first cos it's got a scene in it where the main character says 'it's October 3rd'"

You furrow your brows, "And that's dumb why?.."

He gives you an unamused look, clicking on the lock screen of his phone and showing you today's date.

His smirk quirks when he sees how you dissolve into a fit of laughter though. Something in his gaze as he looks down at you, makes you feel as if you're entirely on show, in the nicest possible way.

"What?" You smile with a flushed expression, noticing how he's not looked away.

"Nothing" he shakes his head, "just nice seeing you in my bed"

You tease him, wrinkling your nose, "Don't be so soft, doesn't suit you"

"Oh yeah? What would you prefer then?" He asks, face lighting up into his slightly arrogant, cocky little smirk, his arm tightening over your waist, "for me to be rough?"

You press your lips together and also, unconsciously, your thighs, feeling heat rise from your belly.

But you jut out your chin, trying to hide how warm you suddenly feel.

"I don't think you've got it in you"

His expression manages to change. Instantly from cocky to stoic, serious. His lips flat into a line, eyelids hooded and utterly humourless.

How he usually looked when you first knew him.

You shiver as his hand drops, deft fingers clutching the hem of his own shirt at your thighs and tugs it up until he reaches the hem of your underwear.

He never drops his expression.

He looks almost annoyed. Angry.

So much so you fear that you've actually said something wrong.

"Aemond-"

"Shh.." he interrupts, his other hand hooked around and resting around your neck, pressing the sides, "I'm not in the mood for words"

You gasp as he practically rips your underwear down your legs, not waiting for you to assist him in lifting your hips, he just pulls forcefully until he shucks them off the bed.

The previous prodding warmth in your belly is stoked to a full roaring flame as he reaches up again, dipping between your thighs to cup your pussy in his palm, swiping two digits against your wetness.

It almost makes you jump, pressing your lips together to stifle a moan and your eyes slipping shut as he teases your sensitive bud.

"I'm going to make you regret saying that" he mused, his breath hot against your neck as he continues to tease you, never really dipping beneath your folds to really touch you. Much to your annoyance.

The sound of your slick moving against his fingers has an embarrassed heat rising to your face.

"You see, Princess? How wet you are for me already?" He mutters deeply, "that's your body talking, not your mouth. Just as it should be"

It's so lewd and domineering, the way he speaks, and how easily he can go from 'watching a movie innocent and cuddling in bed' to 'you don't speak until I give you permission'.

You don't know if you've ever been so turned on in your life.

"I don't want to hear a fucking sound from you. Understood?"

Your tummy flutters with anticipation. Like he's dragging you to a place you've never been before.

You nod, no words leaving your lips.

"That's what I fucking thought" your body jolts properly this time, having to sink your teeth into your lip to contain a whine as he gives a firm, hard slap directly to your core.

"Slut" he whispers, "Are you my little slut?"

Your head is empty. Swirling with desire like being in a sauna. All you have the capacity to do is nod to the best of your ability.

"Good girl" he praises, making your stomach roll and breathing hasten.

You desperately tried not to make a single sound as Aemond's digits sank to the hilt inside you, cooking upwards at a new angle with your back against his chest like this. And yet a tiny, miniscule gasp still managed its way past your lips.

If he noticed it, he didn't say anything.

He just started to fuck you with his fingers, quickly, his other fingers tightening around your neck, to watch the hedonistic look on your face.

It was hard to keep quiet.

He dragged his nose over your cheek, making you shiver, "This is mine" he said gruffly, increasing the pace of him pistoning in and out of you.

Not you are mine.

This is mine.

The lewd sounds of your wetness coating his fingers and hand were the only thing you could hear, bar the soft pants of his breath in your ear.

It felt nice to hand over some semblance of control once in a while.

You feel your climax approach embarrassingly quickly, his hand making contact with your clit with every sharp push inside you.

"I can feel you squeezing my fingers - you're going to cum, aren't you -"

Your chest heaves, pleasured tears pricking at your eyes, nodding quickly as he has made it clear that he will not accept a single word or sound from you.

With a displeased grimace, you whine at the loss of contact as he pulls out quickly, robbing you of the impending orgasm loosening the tension in your gut.

"Fucking slut" he grunts, another harsh slap to your pussy jolts you again, sparking pleasured pain through your bud to your core.

You're barely able to bring yourself up from that lull before your body is dragged further down the bed with Aemond's hips on yours. A bolt of arousal burns through you quickly looking up at him on your back, seeing the determined and fixed expression on his face.

"If it gets too much, tell me"

It's brief, his caring nature, but said through such a stoic look still manages to make the ache in your core even stronger.

You nod.

Before anything else, your breath is caught in your chest as his large hands easily wrap around your wrists and push them down to the mattress, either side of your head.

"Keep them there, where I can see them. Don't move"

Completely lost in the feeling of him looming over you like this, his broad shoulders making him from this angle making him feel larger, his muscles hands holding yours down like it's the easiest thing in the world, you completely forget to reply.

"Understood?" He prods, with a low, warning tone.

You nod a few times, swallowing loudly.

"Good"

His hands slide down, taking note that you're doing as he says and keeping your hands beside your head. You hold back a whimper when his large palms cup your breasts, his fingers tugging near-painfully at the flesh, in an action that only makes your nipples harden to his touch.

Your eyes rake over him, now glazed with lust, pupils blown wide. His form is an absolute marvel to look at, lithe, slender at his middle and a soft sheen on his pecs as he moves in the low light. His bedroom only lit by one warm bedside lamp.

He looks so good.

And your tummy flutters with delight, that's he's all yours.

And you're all his.

In this light, the scar that runs down the side of his left side is even softer, calm and flattened since he'd taken care to ease the redness of it beforehand.

He only has a small smattering of hair on his chest, the rest of it underneath his naval, leading temptingly down past the waistline of his sweatpants, darker than the rest of his hair only slightly.

It makes your mouth water.

He doesn't take his shirt off you.

And there's something so dirty and possessive about him fucking you only wearing his shirt.

Like he wants to see you fall apart with nothing but him around you.

Your heartbeat hums through you. Your core aching with desperation for his attention, clit now feeling utterly abandoned, you can't help but move your hips for any contact, even if it doesn't do anything to quell the need.

His hands come to his sweatpants, thumbing them over his hips, "I want to hear you, princess"

Eyes wide with panic, you look over at the closed door just to check.

Aemond beats you to it.

"Door's locked. Hel and Mum are out. Aeg is downstairs"

You're not sure if that relieves you or not.

"I want this to last. And if you do, then you'll do what I say" he nods, one eyebrow raised, questioning you.

So you nod, a blush creeping up to your cheeks from your neck. All prickly and hot, making your skin all over feel sensitive.

You don't know if you'll ever get over the feeling that overcomes you when you see Aemond naked. You'd seen him entirely naked for the first time at the hotel, where you were forced to share a room.

You remember thinking then that it's a crime he has to wear clothes. He looks so good with them off. He is almost statuesque, as if carved from stone with wiry muscle lingering beneath his pale skin.

Now seeing him, your heart flutters faster seeing where the trail of his darkened hair now leads to. Framing the base of his cock, where his thick and long length, hardened and swollen after teasing you, stands proudly with the tip nearly prodding at his navel.

If you'd been allowed to speak, you still would have been speechless.

His knee knocks against yours softly, wordlessly demanding your legs to widen, so he can see your dripping pussy presented before him.

You almost whine in impatience when Aemond strokes himself, not needing to, but smirking down at you and watching the way your eyes never leave him.

Teasing you on purpose.

It makes you want to touch him, knowing you can't.

"You gonna be good for me?" He asks, his voice dropping an octave lower.

Sucking in a breath, you nod, blinking up at him.

Hands finding your bare hips, he chuckles darkly, gaze trained down on you, "you just want me to use you, don't you, princess?"

You observe the way his eye almost glimmers when he says that. The air becomes thick the closer his naked body gets to yours, it's almost suffocating.

"Go on. Say it"

You swallow, suddenly thinking you don't know how to speak. And your voice comes out shaky.

"Yes - yes, I want you to use me -"

You feel a bit embarrassed saying it, but when he taps his swollen cockhead, leaking with arousal against your slick pussy, it's the last thing on your mind.

Your eyes flit down to where he's holding his length, the veins that lay thick on his skin leading from his wrist up to his forearm-

"Yes, what"

What.

Meeting his smug gaze, he can see the shocked expression on your face. Your heart hammers so quickly in your chest, it's like he can hear it.

Fuck.

He'd seen El's message.

There's no inhibitions, just him.

"Yes - daddy - I want you to use me -"

If Aemond could cum from those words alone, he would.

But for the sake of not feeling cruel, and robbing you of an orgasm, he holds back and simply smirks. Not able to hide the ego boost it gives him, with the tip of one side of his lips.

Without another word, he teases his cockhead through your folds only once, not even giving you time to contemplate he might tease you even more, before leaning forward and spearing you onto his cock, sinking fully inside you in one, surprisingly quick motion.

It catches you off guard, the sudden stretch, the sensation of being filled so quickly. Aemond's fingers dig into your hips, as if for dear life, and pulls you to him, as if there's any way you could be closer.

Aemond simply grunts, " - fuck, baby, you're so tight around my cock - you like being filled like that? - open your eyes for me -"

You do, with effort, as he says, rewarded by the way he looks so happy with himself, sank to the hilt inside of you like that.

“Keep them on me, princess. I don’t like asking twice”

Excitement has you tightening around him again, a fire burning bright in your belly at this dynamic. Sure, there’d been previous partners. They’d done similar things, talked dirty, tried to be overtly dominant in bed. But it always felt forced. And yes, you played it up, tried to take some enjoyment out of it.

But this was completely natural. And it was thrilling.

Barely giving you enough time to adjust to his size, making good on his word, Aemond pulls all the way out, his gaze looking between you to watch how you coat his dick in arousal and pushes all the way back in with a harsh smack. And then another.

Your moans come out almost strained at the pace Aemond sets, each one punctuated with a low grunt, the large expanse of his hands grasping tightly at your hips for leverage to fuck himself into you quickly.

It makes your head feel like it’s full of water, unable to think.

The sensation of his thick length stretching your walls makes you briefly forget, and your hands drag up his forearms and grip tightly.

“No” Aemond grunts, his hands leaving your hips to pin your wrists back to the bed, pressing hard as he continues the relentless snapping of his hips, “Don’t touch - I’m the one who gets to you touch you - that’s it -”

You don’t mean to.

You really don’t mean to.

But you whine at the demand, wanting nothing more than to touch him, feel him.

And there’s that expression again.

"Fucking brat - rolling your eyes at me -" he gruffs, pulling out of you swiftly and flipping you over onto your front, barely giving you time to think. Pain blooms on your ass as Aemond's palm makes contact with it, your core throbbing with want again now that he's not inside you anymore.

"Aemond-"

"Did I say you could talk?" He barks back in a commanding voice, making your lips press together again. You feel his cock heavy on the curve of your ass as he leans over you, one hand under you to prop you up onto your knees with your legs still squeezed together.

"Forgetful as well?" He asks, his other hand snaking around your neck to lift your face to him, "I don't think that's what you called me earlier, was it? - Open -"

His fingers grip your face hard, prompting you, and with a flushed face you obey, parting your lips and moaning low when you feel him spit directly onto your waiting tongue. It sends a bolt of humiliation through you that throbs right where you need him most, where he's so close.

You swallow without being prompted.

"See, so you can be good for me" he muses, a smirk playing on his lips as he shoves your head down into the pillows, leaning back to admire the colour he's made on your ass cheeks in the shape of his hand.

You're thankful for the pillows as he plunges back into you again, muffling your choked moan into the fabric, the angle making it all feel so much deeper than before. Sure, he'd fucked you in the dressing room bent over the vanity. But with your legs pressed together and your spine curved upwards, Aemond hits that sweet spot inside you with infuriating accuracy.

"Fuck - can't believe we've not fucked in my bed before - I'm tempted to keep you here, just like this -"

You can't help but moan at his words, as loud as you will allow yourself to with Aegon still lurking somewhere in the house. You have to admit, the memory foam comes in handy, you can barely hear anything but the slap of moist skin hitting each other and Aemond's low groans of pleasure.

Your gut tightens dramatically, ready to burst at any time. Pressing your lips together, with hands fisting the bedsheets, you try to move your hips in accordance with his, craving extra friction where you can.

Slap.

"Such a needy slut - making such a mess on me -" his gaze is trapped to when you are joined, his hips making your ass ripple with every harsh thrust. Watching in pure adoration as your arousal makes a creamy ring at the base of his cock.

"Just my little fucktoy aren't you, princess - fuck - I can feel you squeezing me, baby -" he speaks like he's struggling to hold breath, constantly using his energy to push back inside you over and over.

"Say it, baby - come on -"

" - mm, fuck I'm gonna cum - please, daddy, I need it -"

It falls from your lips so naturally, not able to handle another denial to hit your peak, mind clouded with desire and need the more his fat cockhead bullies your g-spot.

Aemond's hips become sloppy, clearly arriving at the precipice himself, though he'd hate to see how badly he's losing control right now.

" - ah, fuck - princess -"

You swear your vision blurs for a good few seconds as your orgasm harder than you swear you have in your life, warmth flooding your lips, sending shockwaves straight to your bud. It's so intense, you're not even able to make a sound, just completely overwhelmed as Aemond continues to pound into you.

" fuck-"

You gasp at the loss of him, moaning breathily when you feel warm ropes of cum on your backside, painting your skin with his creamy spend.

The only sound he makes, is a strained whine that lasts a few seconds, but it's the prettiest sound you've ever heard.

Your body feels almost oversensitive, as Aemond drags his cock back down over your ass, painting a line with what remains and slowly pushes one more time into you with a lewd, wet sound, smearing his cum over your bud before he does. He's softened slightly since, but the stretch still makes you whimper, your core feeling utterly used and overstimulated.

He regains his breath for a moment once he pulls out, the mattress rising as he gets off it. Your eyelashes flutter against the pillow, trying to calm the rapid beating of your heart and the trembling aftershocks of your orgasm still ringing through you.

So it makes you jolt when you feel a warm washcloth on you.

"Sorry.." he whispers in a softened voice, continuing until he feels you are entirely clean, before sinking beneath the bedsheets and covering you with them.

Aemond quickly falls back into his normal self, the usual caring, soft and loving person you’ve grown to love. Your heavy eyes open to look up at him, laying beside you in bed, his hand stroking your hair and tucking a wayward strand behind your ear.

You smile at the flush on his pale cheeks.

“Too much?” he asks, a flash of insecurity passing his face.

You shake your head quickly, “No, not at all” you answer softly, pressing a kiss to the cleft of his nose to reassure him, “If it was I would have said”

Feeling a little better, he spares an embarrassed smile that warms your heart, looking down at your intertwined fingers.

“So” he speaks after a beat, biting back a grin when your eyes meet again, “daddy, huh?”

You screw up your face, “Shut up” your voice muffled by your hand over your face, trying to hide your burning cheeks. Aemond simply laughs, pressing a surprisingly chaste kiss to your forehead.

He teases you about it for the rest of the evening.

That is until you clamber atop him later on, and show him that two can play at that game.

He can’t deny it though, he loves that too.

Shockingly, you and Aemond manage to part from his bed every now and then to actually practise the routine.

The routine was perfected, and you’d begrudgingly received the agenda from Otto’s email address about what your outfits would be.

Aemond, as usual, was going to wear black.

You expected to wear white, as you always had. But for some reason, black had also been chosen for you as well. You recall Aemond raising his eyebrow at it, thinking it odd.

Your nose wrinkles with disgust at the thought of wearing something Otto has told you to wear.

But you supposed you had no choice.

For the past few days, in between practice, you’d spend the majority of time in Helaena’s room, making good use of her sewing machine. With the finals looming, your heart barely slowed down, your leg barely unable to cease its twitching with the nerves. Fixing the hems of the garments so they fell in the right spot was a good way to distract yourself, you mused.

“Busy?”

You look up over the machine. Aegon leans against the doorway, a toothy grin on his face as his eyes flit down to the fabric you have on your lap, raising an amused eyebrow.

“Extremely” you reply, pressing on the pedal again.

“Didn’t know you were so skilled at sewing” he says teasingly, taking a few steps into the room.

“I have many talents, Aegon”

“So I’ve heard. Multiple times”

Your cheeks burn, averting your eyes to the project laid in front of you.

Fuck.

Aegon chuckles, “It’s alright. I was worse with the girls I had over. Only fair that my little bro has a turn”

You shook Aegon a warning glance, biting back a smile.

“You know it was pretty gratifying, seeing Otto get knocked down a few pegs” he mutters, “funny as well”

Laughing through your nose, you snip the fabric with some scissors.

“Thank you”

Now that’s the last thing you thought you’d hear from Aegon.

“For what?”

He shrugs, seemingly embarrassed by how vulnerable he’s being. So Aemond and Aegon do share traits.

“Sticking up for Mum” he continues, “and all of us”

This time, it’s impossible to hold back the smile, “The best is yet to come in regards to that”

Aegon narrows his eyes, suspiciously, but smirking at the same time. Amused.

“I’m glad you and Aemond are doing what you want” you add, “and Hel. But that’s your guys’ achievements, not mine”

Aegon rolls his eyes, faking a gag, “Fucking softie”

But he does give you one last, grateful smile as he leaves, his eyes once again dropping to the fabric in your lap, eyes glimmering with mischief.

Ping.

And you know then you’ve made the right choice.

Aemond Taglist (1): @asp3nxx | @avidreader73 | @bellaisasleep | @boofy1998

#fic recs #liz bb 💘#moots 💞

616 notes · View notes