Latest Posts by mxrtiaxv - Page 4

Repentance

Part 3 of ‘Retribution’

Part 4 

warnings: smut, angst (again ofc) jealous! Aemond

The fan art divider below is not my work. I found it on pinterest but Idk who the artist is. If someone knows can you please lmk so I can give them credit <3

a/n: I’m sorry I haven’t gotten around to answering everyone who’s left me anon messages, I appreciate you all & your suggestions! (Newly edited) I added everyone I could to the taglist, I’m so sorry if I missed you, I tried to add you but your usernames weren’t working for some reason :( 

(au purposes let’s pretend Cregan has a son named Brandon)

Aemond grunts, his long strands of silver hair shielding his face as his hips ground into hers. Sweat beading his forehead and loins aching for release, he begs the gods to help him reach his high at a quicker pace. Her mewling and moans beneath him don’t deter him to steer away from his thoughts. Thoughts that were plagued of her. His wife that felt a million miles away from him in Kingslanding.

“Faster, my love” Alys cries out beneath him, her words only then causing him to break from his trance. His skin slaps against hers more frequently as he pounds harder, his mind continuing to ponder over the intrusive thoughts that enter his head about his beloved wife.

The way her skin feels— so soft and supple as she would caress his hands and occasionally his face if he would allow her. Smile that lit up every room she walked into, the same one that he no longer saw anymore— his privilege of seeing it being ripped away the moment he started to neglect her.

As his mind fills of glimpses of her, only then does he feel the lead to his release. The ache starting to uncoil as he allows himself to imagine that it isn’t Alys beneath him. He doesn’t see her face when he glances down at Alys. Her dark brown hair turned silver in his mind, brown eyes the same violet shade he saw in his own reflection. As he uses his free hand to fondle her breast, toying with her nipple he imagines his wife’s figure. Her cleavage that he would glance at briefly clear as day in his thoughts. He would never stare longer than he should’ve, always turning a blind eye to such a desirable place out of respect for her.

He didn’t care about respect in this moment, defiling you and your honour in his mind, Aemond works toward his orgasm. Panting and hips starting to ache, his thrusts become more powerful as he grows nearer. His thoughts of you repeating as he imagines that you are beneath him, you are the one shuddering from pleasure, walls squeezing him tight as you near your own release. He imagines Alys’ moans and whimpers are emanating from your lips.

“I love you” Alys cries out, hands grasping ahold of Aemond’s face— pulling him down to place her lips on his. He pushes through her orgasm, his hips still pounding into hers as he chases his own high. He shuts his eyes as he envisions you, loving him again— holding him as you used to attempt to, playing with his hair and reading to him. He finally cums, his eye shut tight as he slips out of Alys, grasping ahold of his cock as he releases onto her stomach.

Your name is on the tip of his tongue as he moans out.

“Must you leave so soon?” Alys hums, disappointment clear in her tone as she strokes his naked back that is turned to her. He ignores her, pulling on his trousers as he tries to locate his shirt she so carelessly threw away from him.

“My beloved, please answer me” Alys pleads, eyes watching the silver haired man pace around infront of her as he collects his belongings.

“You have had me for nearly a whole day, my love. Have you not grown sick of me yet?” Aemond chuckles, flashing her a grin that reassures her instantly. She had begun to worry she had completely lost him to you.

“Not when I’m aware you return to her. Not when I know I won’t see you again until a few days time” She huffs, clearly frustrated with the situation they were in.

“What will you have me do? Leave my duties as a prince and husband so we can fuck all day and night beneath the roof of this Inn?” Aemond’s remark is dripping with sarcasm— his tone causing her to scoff as she pulls her own nightgown on.

“I do not care for your tone, Aemond” She mutters as she moves round the bed to reach him, her arms coiling around his waist as she leans her head against his back.

“If it is guilt of infidelity that is stopping you from being mine, I may have a solution. One that would remove your wife from the equation permanently” Her words are venomous as they ring in his ears, her implication of using her witchcraft to kill his wife causing him to pull away from her.

“Utter those words again and I shall have you done for treason. You will not lay a finger on my wife, am I understood?” Aemond hisses as he turns to grasp her jaw tightly, her eyes widening at his sudden outburst. She nods immediately, pausing for a moment— Aemond lets his hold on her linger before he releases.

“I need her alive and able in order to play the role my mother has bestowed upon me” Aemond excuses, questioning his own reasons for why he reacted so strongly upon hearing about his wife’s potential demise.

He gives Alys an apologetic hug, his arms wrapping around her waist as he pulls her into his body. Regardless of his behaviour just moments ago, Alys still embraces him— sighing in relief at his warmth.

“I just do not understand why we must be so far from each other— she has already given her permission for us to love” Alys murmurs into his shirt, looking up at Aemond who gives her a reassuring smile.

“She may have but the rest of my family have not. My head will be on a spike before the end of the night if my mother were to find out I was pursuing you” Aemond sighs heavily, his mind flashing back to moments ago when it was plagued with the thought of his wife.

“I must go” Aemond mutters before he places a soft kiss on Alys’ forehead. He felt his stomach tighten in knots at the thought of finally seeing his wife— you, waiting for him at Kingslanding. He felt as excited as a young child was for sweets— he could hardly contain his excitement.

Your husband enters your bedchamber, announcing his presence by knocking on your door. Much to his confusion, you are nowhere to be seen. Usually you would be preparing for dinner— your handmaidens helping assist you as you change into your dresses. Aemond huffs out in slight dissapointment before he reluctantly returns to his own bedchambers.

He doesn’t want to admit that he constantly observes the door, waiting for you to barge in at any moment now— apologising for your tardiness before you take a seat beside him. When moments pass without a sign of you, Aemond downs his goblet of wine, a slight scowl gracing his features as he begins to grow impatient with your absence.

“Where is my wife?” Aemond questions the table, causing everyone’s idle chatter to quiet as they turn to him. Alicent is the first to respond, reassuring him that you are probably on dragon back and getting some fresh air. He hums, unsatisfied with her answer but still agreeing to leave it alone as he picks at his food.

Aegon saunters toward his brother, pulling the free seat out beside him with an obnoxious screech of the chairs legs. Aemond tuts as his brother slumps down on the seat, pulling the holder full of wine to pour an excessive amount into his goblet.

“You’re unaware of your own wife’s whereabouts— how sad is that” Aegon smirks, wiping away the excess wine around his mouth with his sleeve.

“Bother someone else with your remarks, brother. I am not in the mood” Aemond grunts, eye casting away from his brother to observe the others present in the room.

“Whether you believe me or not, I know of your wife’s whereabouts. She and a certain visitor from the North are parading around flea bottom at this very moment” Aegon says, lowering his voice as he informs his brother of his wife’s secret.

Aemond has every right to accuse Aegon of lying, he’s Aegon for god’s sakes. Only a fool would trust him and his word. But instinct tells Aemond that his brother is speaking the truth, so he hums as he thinks to himself. Jealousy plants itself inside of him like a disease, growing stronger by every minute that passes of Aemond imagining you with this so called visitor from the North. He already felt the strong urge to gut the man, exile him to death for attempting to steal his wife and better yet endangering her by leaving the Red Keep’s grounds to explore. 

She isn’t yours. We had an agreement.

These thoughts play on Aemond’s mind as he tries to rid himself of the feeling he just previously had, his possessive mind easing as he tries to see reason. He had his Alys, his one true love— why should he feel the need to claim you as his too. He was being too greedy. 

“Cregan Stark’s son and her. They sneak back in through the west side of the garden, brother” Aegon mutters in his ear as he pushes out of his seat to stumble off, stopping briefly as he rests his hand against Aemond’s shoulder. At Aegon’s words, Aemond feels his strong feelings return— jealousy and anger over clouding his better judgement. 

Dinner concludes and you still haven’t arrived back from wherever you are, whether it be in flea bottom or dragon back, Aemond was determined to find out if Aegon’s claims were true. So he stays posted on the west side of the garden, hidden securely behind a few trees and bushes as he picks at the fallen leaves that surround him. He’s close to questioning his sanity as time passes, wondering if his brother fooled him yet again and was now laughing at Aemond’s stupidity for actually waiting for them to return. 

It is confirmed when he hears your beautiful laughter carrying through the night air. He sees the two of you walking back through the trees that lead to a brick wall— ah that’s how they sneak back in. A lump grows in Aemond’s throat as he observes how closely you are to the Stark boy, your arms linked— bodies mere inches from touching and a wide grin on your face as you look up at him.

I could make you laugh.

Aemond thinks to himself as his chest starts to ache. You had tried to jest with him many times at the beginning of your marriage, always telling him jokes and trying to find common ground through humour. Aemond regrets all those times he would wear a straight face, dismissing you and your jokes instantly.

                                     —

The warm air causes your cheeks to blush as you pull away gently from Brandon, your face sore from all the smiling you’ve been doing all evening. You couldn’t contain yourself, you never can around him. He sighs heavily as he stands infront of you, grasping ahold of one of your hands as he lifts it to his lips— placing a gentle kiss on your skin.

“Departing from you pains me greatly” The older boy jests, hand over his heart dramatically as he pretends to groan out in pain.

“You’ll see me tomorrow, you child” You snort, another grin gracing your face as you watch the man infront of you laugh.

“And the day after that… and the day after that— and the day…” You decide to cut off his teasing by pulling him forward by the wrist so you can lean up to plant a kiss on his cheek.

“I bid you goodnight” You hum, satisfied when you see him smile at the feeling of your lips on his skin. Embarrassed by your sudden action, you turn on your heel and begin your walk back to your bedchamber— a smile clear on your face as you try to contain yourself.

The Stark boy clouded your thoughts so much so you didn’t notice the way the group of trees beside you rustled suspiciously. Your husband who finally leaves his hiding place after waiting for almost an hour, huffs as he tries to contain himself. In all honesty, he wanted to maim the Lord’s son who had the privilege of your lips being on his skin. He decides against making any rash decisions and follows after you once there’s some distance.

You’re in your bedchamber for mere minutes before you hear a knock on your door. Clothes already discarded on the floor from being half undressed, you grab a loose bedsheet and wrap it around yourself hastily before you move to open the door.

“Aemond, what are you doing here at this hour?” You question him, confused as to why he was standing outside of your door. You catch his eye skimming across your body, his gaze causing you to shift in discomfort.

Aemond shamelessly wonders what lies beneath the sheet you’re holding so tightly against your body, his mind flooding of the indecent thoughts he had of you during his time with Alys— his cock growing half hard as he views you now.

“Can a husband not wish to see his wife?” Aemond tuts, gaze finally leaving your body as he looks behind you— silently observing the way your clothes are strewn on the floor.

He wonders if there is someone in your bed, perhaps the Stark boy found a secret entry way into your room after parting ways in the garden. The mere thought of you taking him to bed causes discomfort to settle in Aemond’s gut, the raging emotions of jealousy returning as he imagines you bedding anyone that wasn’t him.

His worries are put to rest when you pull the door back further and stand aside to let him in, holding it open for him as you wait for him to enter.

“How was your time with Alys?” You question him after you shut the door behind him, moving toward the bed to grab your nightwear. Aemond moves to sit on the seat by the fireplace, eye watching the flames dance as he answers.

He hadn’t thought of Alys since the moment he returned to Kingslanding, you being at the forefront of his mind this whole evening. You plague his very thoughts, even as you stand beside him now you continue to hold such power over him. But you didn’t need to know that.

“It was most enjoyable. Although I spent half the time in her bed” Aemond hopes that hearing of his shared intimacy with Alys evokes envy from you. He wants you to burn for him, desire him and grow jealous at the thought of someone else bedding him. Unbeknownst to him, his words cause just that— your cheeks warming at the thought of him in that way.

“That is good news” You simply hum, not bothering to question him any further about it. You sigh heavily as you try to dress from beneath the sheet, afraid that Aemond will see you in such an indecent state. Yes, you may be husband and wife but you never did consummate the marriage all those months ago.

On the night of your wedding, neither of you wished to indulge in intimacy to bind your marriage— you had pondered on the idea momentarily, your desires for him over shadowing your clarity as you both stalled on the act. Aemond found a way to convince the party set to witness the consummation, promising greater results if they were to wait outside the chamber. Blood was shed on the sheets but it had not been from your virginity being taken and more so your palm.

“How inconsiderate of me to not question you about your own night, beloved wife” Aemond’s tone is clear that he has underlying intentions with his question,  intentions of interrogating you about your whereabouts. 

“No need to feel guilty. I spent my afternoon on dragon back, just catching the sunset on time” You lie, hoping he didn’t see right through the smile you front to him. His facial expression is unreadable as he stares over at you, narrowing his eye he lets out a hum. 

“You don’t stink of dragon. The sun set hours ago…” Aemond trails off, an accusatory tone in his voice as he moves to push forward in his seat. You exhale heavily, piling your clothes into a bundle before setting it aside– you want to appear being busy so you don’t break under his gaze. 

“I am exhausted from the day. I have no time for your accusations, prince Aemond–” 

“My prince or better yet dear husband. Either title is preferred” Aemond cuts you off, standing from his seat he strides toward you– hands moving to grasp your face in his palms. You’re taken aback from his sudden gesture, confusion written on your face at his sudden outburst.

“I do not appreciate when you call me so formally. It is if I am a stranger to you. We are still married, you needn’t forget that” Aemond mutters to you now that you are inches apart from each other. You see the way his eye trails from your gaze down toward your lips, ever so parted as you breath heavily in his grasp– he’s tempted to press his lips against yours. Burning to taste you on his tongue, to claim the kiss that belonged to him, not the Stark boy. 

You force yourself out of his grasp and turn away, huffing as you avoid eye contact with him. Trying to calm your unstable breathing, you muster out “You must leave now” to Aemond before you brush past him to look out at the view, to distract yourself from the man before you. Aemond wears regret on his sleeve as he bids you goodnight, leaving your bedchamber with his head swelling with thoughts of what he could’ve done differently. 

He knows he’s upset you, having days pass with continuous silence from you, he can’t help but let your cold behaviour toward him affect his daily duties. He hasn’t visited Alys in over a week’s time, even after promising he would take no longer than three days to revisit her, he postpones the trip– prioritising you and salvaging what’s left of this broken marriage. 

He watches with bitterness on his tongue as you and the Stark boy rest beneath the weir wood tree, both sat side by side with your knees practically touching, he wonders what he’s said to make you smile. If only he could hear from this distance. Take mental notes about what to say to make you laugh, how to make you smile so brightly. 

“You’re yet to drink your tea, dear brother. Something the matter?” Aegon’s voice pulls Aemond’s gaze away from his wife and the boy– shaking his head, Aemond moves to sip his tea. He knows Aegon is trying to stir the pot, well aware he knows of the rumours spreading about his wife. With the two of them sat together as comfortable as they are, it was as if they were parading their love in front of Aemond’s face– giving Aegon even more things to use against his brother. 

“A mere Stark boy stealing a prince’s wife. It’s a truly sad tale” Aegon says lowly to Aemond, barely biting back a smile as he teases his brother. Aemond had always been the more level headed brother, calmer and more reserved than Aegon – he was never one to publicly display his anger. But in this moment, the thought of stringing Aegon along the table of cutlery sounded tempting to Aemond. 

“I suggest you hold your tongue” Aemond mutters, causing Aegon to let out a snort. Pushing back, Aemond’s gaze returns to your face— the sight of your smile easing him slightly. You never smile at him, hardly ever the last month that’s passed. But he remembers when you used to, on your wedding day and the first few days that followed.

“You and your tongues” Aegon tuts, referring to Aemond’s threat of severing yours that one night at the dinner table. Cregan, Alicent and Otto discuss their leave tomorrow morn at the end of the table— their words bringing Aemond some relief.

At least the Stark boy will leave Kings landing, be as far away from my wife as possible. Aemond thinks to himself as he picks at his nail beds absentmindedly.

“And what of your son Brandon?” Alicent questions Cregan, causing Aemond’s ears to perk up at the mentioning of the boy beneath the tree. So that’s the Stark boy’s name.

“He will return to Winterfell in a month’s time. He wishes to stay longer, fascinated by your swordsmanship — he wishes to learn more of the sport” Cregan hums, catching Aemond’s full attention as he sees an opportunity at hand.

“If your son wishes to improve his swordsmanship, I shall tutor him. I best all the knights and swordsman in Kings landing, you’ll find no better than me” Aemond announces, the eyes around the table shifting to look at him. Alicent wears a look of confusion at her son’s sudden proposal. She comes to realisation why he jumped at the opportunity when she glances at the two beneath the tree— she tuts and turns away.

“He would be honoured, my prince. We give thanks to you” Cregan says, smiling at Aemond with appreciation— unaware of the man’s true intentions. Aemond nods, turning to look at the boy he plan to soon rid of.

—

a/n: sorry if there’s any typos— half of it is unedited :p

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Retribution

pt.2 of ‘The Other Woman’

pt.3 here

warnings: angst and fluff (technically) & mentions of sex.

The fan art divider below is not my work. I found it on pinterest but Idk who the artist is. If someone knows can you please lmk so I can give them credit <3

a/n: also thank you so much for all the love for part one of this story <3! and I’m sorry to those who asked me to tag them with this post I was trying to but it wouldn’t let me for some reason :/

It had been weeks since that night, the same night Aemond confessed his feelings for his true love Alys in his drunken state. The same night you had cried yourself to sleep, wanting to be as far away from your husband whilst being trapped in his embrace. You woke the next morning with a new realisation— why should you bother trying to be an outstanding wife when you would never compare to her.

His beloved Alys.

Her name tastes like poison in your mouth, so distasteful you fear you’ll grow sick if it lingers at the forefront of your mind any longer. You feel guilty, it’s not her fault you’re trapped in a marriage with a man who’s madly in love with her.

You stop trying with Aemond. All the effort you put in to try and gain his approval, affection and love would inevitably go to waste— so why should you spend any more time worrying about Aemond and his needs. He didn’t need nor want you to be his wife, so you shouldn’t act the part.

You carry on with your day after your brief breakfast with Aemond in the dining room. You kept the conversation short, as you usually do now. You have little to say to him besides conversation about your shared duties to the throne and your family. You stopped trying to make small talk with him, your attempts before often irritated him. He wouldn’t hide the fact your consistent need for communication with him bothered him. Now you’re content with the shared silence between the two of you, grateful that you didn’t have to scramble to think of things to talk about.

You allow the handmaidens to ready your bath as you contemplate what outfit to wear for your day out of Kings landing. You ignore the way Aemond’s eye is trained on you intently, silently observing the way you think over what dress to wear between the two options.

“If those do not please you, I’ll buy you finer dresses, dear wife” Aemond breaks the silence, causing you to scoff at his attempt of being a considerate husband. This was one of the only times he had referred to you as his wife, weeks ago you would’ve been praising your gods in thanks— now the title barely phases you.

“Now why would you do that” You huff, deciding on the dress that was a deep shade of blue. You brush past him, hinting for him to leave the room when you bathe. He hums before pushing off of his seat and leaving the room, shutting the door behind him as you begin to undress.

“Are you planning on telling Prince Aemond where you are headed?” Your handmaiden Meredith questions you as she brushes your long silver hair. You pretend to lull the thought over before you say no.

“He doesn’t need to know. My absence won’t phase him” You hum, causing Meredith to tut as she braids some of your fine hair. You shut your eyes momentarily, preparing to receive an earful from the older woman who was like your mother figure in Rhaenyra’s absence.

“I would question that, Princess. Prince Aemond had spent half the day searching for you when you had left to roam the streets two days ago” She informs you, causing you to hum in thought as you processed what she had just told you. It seemed absurd that Aemond would notice you leaving for a few hours, you could disappear for weeks and he wouldn’t bat an eyelid.

“I trust you won’t tell him if he searches for me” You hum, confiding in her trust. You already knew the answer, Meredith would defend you with her last breath if it came down to it. She presses a soft kiss into your hair before standing up and stretching her limbs.

“Be mindful there is a family dinner tonight. You cannot be late” Meredith informs you and you wave her off, promising you wouldn’t be tardy before you push off of the hard floor and prepare to leave your bedchamber.

You had forgotten your promise the moment you stepped foot on Dragonstone. It had slipped your mind completely as you spent the day with your younger siblings— your mother distracting you in the evening by telling you stories by the fireplace. Your hand was steadily caressing her heavily swollen stomach as you listen to her tale, hoping your sibling inside of her womb was also listening. It was so entertaining you had forgotten of your curfew.

You leave Dragonstone hastily on Dragonback, cursing as you chastise yourself for forgetting such a thing. Meredith would definitely give you an earful later for this, but that was the least of your concerns as you take quick strides down the halls of the Red Keep. Out of breath and hair messy from the ride back, you quickly try to make yourself more presentable before you enter the dining room— the guard posted outside the door giving you a look before you enter.

“I apologise for my tardiness, your grace” You announce as you greet Alicent who gives you a tight lipped smile from her side of the table. She silently disapproved of your lack of consideration for time but said nothing— allowing you to take a seat beside Aemond.

You ignore his stare, keeping your gaze focused on the plate infront of you as you cut into your steak, hoping he would lose interest of your face and stop staring so intensely.

“Where have you been?” Aemond confronts you, finally breaking the deafening silence that could be cut with a knife.

“I went for a ride. Needed some fresh air” You glance at him as you answer, catching the dissatisfied look on his face at your alibi.

“Be honest with me” He presses you again, his voice slightly louder and catching the attention of the others sitting around the table. They pretend to carry on with their idle chatter, obviously eavesdropping on your conversation. You stay silent, ignoring his statement and hoping he would lose interest and stop talking to you.

“Your husband demands you to answer him” He growls, his tone revealing his frustration at your silence.

“Or what? You’ll sever my tongue?” You argue as you drop your cutlery, accentuating your anger as you repeat the words he spoke to you at this same table weeks ago. Everyone around the table goes silent at your sudden outburst, Aegon barely biting back a laugh whilst Helaena gazes at you with sympathy in her eyes. Alicent as you expected still wore a scowl on her face, unimpressed by both you and Aemond’s antics.

“I apologise for my outburst” You announce to everyone at the table before you continue to quietly eat, shifting further away from Aemond in your seat as you internally wish you were riding back to Dragonstone.

“I visited my family. That’s where I was today” You sigh heavily as you both enter your shared bedchamber after the dinner had concluded. Aemond gives you a look of understanding before you brush past him and begin to undress.

He lingers around the small bookshelf you insisted to be made months ago, finger trailing along the covers until he pulls out the novel containing children’s tales.

“You no longer read to me. I wish for you to read again” Aemond’s voice is just above a whisper, barely audible with the only sounds being your fabric loosening and the crackles from the fire.

Every second night after you wed, you made it a nightly ritual to read out loud your favourite stories from your childhood. Hoping it would help you bond with Aemond, it in fact did the opposite and made him leave the room most times— claiming he’d rather listen to Aegon fucking some whore than you reading to him.

“Today has exhausted me. Feel free to read on your own accord” You hum, dismissing his request as you stifle a yawn— pulling back your sheets to lay on your side of the bed. Aemond sighs heavily before he retires to the seat infront of the fireplace, reading quietly to himself. You had already shut your eyes and lulled yourself to sleep, so you missed the way he kept glancing over at your sleeping form.

Aemond feels a slight tightness in his chest as he reflects on how distant you’ve been with him for the last few weeks. He noticed it the first morning you stopped asking him a million questions at the breakfast table. Your odd behaviour that morning only being the start to you growing further apart from him. You stopped trying to drag him to the garden to simply walk with you, you no longer played with his hair or tried to jest with him. You didn’t ask him how his day was at the end of the night as you both lay down for bed, you would just silently turn over and sleep.

He’s hurt you, more times than he could count on all ten of his fingers. He treated you so bitterly because he blamed you for losing his sweet Alys to this betrothal. Now that he’s losing you too, he doesn’t know how to stop this marriage from falling apart.

The next morning, you ready your proposal to Aemond— one that you’ve been dwelling on for the last few weeks. You weren’t sure of how he’d react, probably ecstatic over your suggestion if you were to be honest. You know Alicent won’t be satisfied if she were to find out, so you intend to keep it a secret.

“We will reside in separate bedchambers. I’ve already asked Meredith to arrange Jace’s old bedroom down the hall for me. I’ll be moving my belongings there tonight” You announce to Aemond once you are both sat together during breakfast. He pauses at the news, confusion gracing his features as he stares at you.

“We’re married, why should you feel the need to sleep away from me?” His chest tightens again as he speaks.

“We’re practically worlds away when we share one bed, what difference would it make being in separate rooms” You say nonchalantly, sipping on your lukewarm tea as your eyes leave his. He doesn’t voice his disagreement with your suggestion, just silently nodding before he continues to eat.

When night comes, both you and Aemond make your way to your bedchambers after spending an evening with the whole family in Aegon and Helaena’s quarters. You were practically glued to her youngest child the whole night, unaware of your husband’s stare as he watched you babble away in gibberish to the young baby.

“Do you need instructions on where to stick your cock, brother?” Aegon had clapped him on the shoulder as he joins him by the fireplace he was leaning against. Aemond hums in confusion, pulling his gaze away from you momentarily to glance at his brother.

“It’s out of brotherly love that I question why you haven’t put your seed in her yet. Have you not been married half a year now?” Aegon scoffs, downing his goblet full of wine before he tosses it aside.

“We don’t share the insatiable urge to fuck like rabbits the way you and your whores do, dear brother” Aemond bites back, causing Aegon to raise his hands up in defense.

“At least I feel the urge to touch them, not once since your wedding have I seen you embrace her— not even with a simple kiss” Aegon was right, after their wedding night, Aemond didn’t bother trying to share any affection with you. In his heart he knew his kind touch and warm embrace were reserved for the one woman who held his heart in her hands.

“Y/N…” Aemond hums, stopping you in your tracks as you stop walking down the hall. You feel his hand embrace yours as he turns your body to face him, his touch warm as he cups your hand in his.

“H—how was your day?” He questions you, his stutter causing him to curse at himself internally as he notes how foolish he sounds. You let out a little laugh at how confusing he was being, you spent the walk back here in utter silence and he chooses only now to ask you.

“It was like every other day I have here. Meredith made me chocolate muffins— they were divine” You hum, unsure of what else to talk about you ask him the same question.

“My day was mediocre at best, one can only bare Aegon for so long”

You hum in understanding, Aegon was more than a handful. He was torture when he wanted to be, which was majority of the time he was in anyone’s presence. You’re blessed to be married to the tamer brother, the same one who still had your hand in his grasp.

“If that is all, I wish you goodnight Prince Aemond” You hum, pulling your hand from his grasp completely before you turn on your heel and continue on your way to your new bedchamber.

Discomfort sits in his stomach at your use of his formal name, it was as though he wasn’t your husband— a stranger to you almost. He feels guilt reside in him as he reflects on how he would chastise you for calling him terms of endearment that Alys often used. It’s only now as he watches her walk away from him and disappear into her bedchamber that he realises he would give an arm and a leg to hear you call him those names once again.

Much to your dismay, you can barely sleep a wink. You toss and turn against your cold sheets , frustrated and confused as to why you couldn’t sleep soundly in your own space. No longer did you have to sleep stiffly because Aemond was on the other half of your bed. You had all the freedom in the world to sleep, yet you couldn’t even as you tried your hardest to.

You decide to take a walk in the garden to clear your head and hopefully tire yourself out enough to finally rest. Sighing heavily, you admire the warm air that fans against your skin as you quietly make your way down the halls. Your eyes widen slightly as you see his long silver hair, his eye focused on the moonlight that beams through the trees leaves above him. For once in your marriage you seem to finally sync as you realise he couldn’t sleep either, needing the comfort of nature to clear his head.

“You couldn’t rest either?” You hum as you approach him, the leaves crunching beneath your bare feet as you move closer to him. He seems startled at first, exhaling in relief when he recognises his wife’s voice.

“It seems as though I have grown used to the warmth of your body beside mine— your absence has turned me into an insomniac” Aemond admits truthfully, causing something inside of your gut to spark when you hear his words.

“It appears your absence has caused me to have the same troubles” You chuckle, crossing your arms over your chest as you look up at the leaves above your head, fascinated by it’s pretty colour.

“We shall grow used to it as time passes” You exhale, hoping that you don’t suffer the same fate tomorrow night. He’s taken aback by your statement, his eye resting on your face.

“Time passes? How long do you intend on being separated?” If you weren’t aware of Aemond’s true feelings toward you, you would almost hear the hint of sadness in his voice as he speaks.

“I was meaning to discuss this matter with you in a week’s time, but seeing as we’re alone and at our most vulnerable— I shall inform you now” Your words cause his pulse to quicken, he involuntarily feels his heart pound as you turn to face him. He didn’t know what to expect.

“I know this marriage wasn’t one formed from a love match. I’m the last person you wished to marry and somehow we still found ourselves betrothed” You sigh heavily, reflecting on the moments you’ve shared as a married couple so far— most, if not all being ones where neither of you were happy.

“Someone else has ahold of your heart, it was never mine to claim and I was foolish for trying to in the first place. This marriage was always destined to fall” You grasp ahold of his hands in yours, the gesture causing your gazes to meet as he finally looks at your face.

“I give you my permission to pursue your beloved Alys, so long as we both continue this marriage for the sake of our family name and duties— nothing more, you are free to love her. I too will do the same, in hopes that I do one day find someone who loves me as much as you love her” You say in finalisation, watching his face for any sign of a reaction.

Aemond’s heart feels like it’s going to burst out of his chest at your words, he didn’t know how to feel. You were giving him a golden opportunity on a silver platter, he would get to love his Alys freely— without the guilt of already being a husband and that in itself sounded like heaven to him. Still, he was heavily conflicted. He wanted to confess to you that even with his love to Alys, he still longed for you— his wife that he had watch gradually lose herself because of him. It’s selfish of him to need you both, to want you almost as much as he wants her.

After a moment, Aemond finally nods his head in agreement— the words of truth being trapped in his throat as he fails to utter even a word to you. You give his hands a squeeze before you release your hold on him.

“This matter is settled then” You hum before you pull away from him. You bid him goodnight, your words barely processing in Aemond’s mind as he fails to speak. Instead he watches you walk away in silence, leaving him alone in the garden with his thoughts and his latest regret.

—

a/n: Idk about this ending tbh sorry if it’s meh but the final chapter will be worth it :p

tags <3

The other woman

part 2

You were overjoyed with your marriage to Aemond, unfortunately for you— he doesn’t feel the same way. You will always be the other woman.

Inspired by Lana Del Rey’s song The other woman.

The fan art divider below is not my work. I found it on pinterest but Idk who the artist is. If someone knows can you please lmk so I can give them credit <3

warnings: incest (Uncle and Niece) angst, Aemond being a shit husband.

“Hmm” Your husband barely replies, an unamused look on his face as you make small talk with him over supper. You find his lack of response slightly embarrassing, feeling your cheeks warm as you try to ignore the eyes around the table that observe the both of you interact. They have pity in theirs, aware of the bitter treatment you’ve been receiving from the prince since you were wed four months ago.

It was one solely based on duty, for your family name and to keep the bloodline strong, both your parents agreed to the marriage. You were ecstatic upon hearing the news of your betrothed. You had always admired your uncle, dreaming of one day being wed to him, you had always felt in your heart that there would be no better match for you than Aemond.

Aemond couldn’t have felt any more different. He felt trapped and bound for eternity in a marriage he didn’t want nor ask for, he was forced into it by his parents and sister— caving into their excuses of wanting the best for the family. He had a love he wished to wed already waiting for him, his sweet Alys, whom he would never be able to call wife or bear children with now that he was married to you. Until mere months ago he had viewed you only as his niece and nothing more, now he didn’t know how to view you. He was certain about one thing though and that was that you were not the woman he wanted.

“My love..” Your words are soft as you speak to him, hoping to make it less obvious to your family you were yet again trying to spark conversation.

“I told you not to call me that. Are your ears in good shape or are you just an imbecile?” Aemond’s words cut through you like a blade, his tone causing a lump to grow in your throat. You hated how sensitive you’ve always been, you needed thicker skin if you were to survive this marriage.

My love

Alys called him that, he had chastised you for using the term before — explaining to you why he wished for you not to say those words again. They were hers for him alone, it was a painful reminder for him of the woman he longed for, the one he couldn’t have. The one that was robbed from him and shipped away to what felt like the other ends of the earth.

“I apologise, dear husband. It was a mistake” You say, trying your hardest not to let your voice tremble as you speak. He scoffs, downing the wine in his goblet before he continues his assault.

“Utter those words to me again and I will sever your tongue” He spits at you, words even more venomous that the ones before. You hear Alicent drop her cutlery, a disapproving look on her face as she chastises her son.

“Aemond— how dare you speak to your wife as such”

Everything around you becomes a blur, you block out the sounds of his mother and the way he argues back— claiming that you’re his wife and he can deal with you as he wishes. You wish nothing more than to just disappear from this table, from Kings landing itself. To get as far away from your husband as you could, you missed your own home with your loving parents and siblings.

“Excuse me for a moment” You say, voice barely heard before you push out of your seat and excuse yourself from the table. With your head low, you exit the room, the humid air causing you to hyperventilate once you’re hit with the fresh air in the hall. You can finally breathe, no longer feeling the pressure of Aemond beside you. You didn’t realise how uneasy he made you feel, only now that you were away from him you were able to relax your muscles and take deep breaths to calm your nerves.

You don’t bother to return to the dining room and instead quietly make your way back to your shared bedchamber. Uncertain of whether or not your husband would return to you tonight, you change into your night wear and lay down. Your eyes are shut but you can’t sleep, your thoughts and worries plague your mind as you attempt to lull yourself into slumber. You hope to be fast asleep when Aemond returns, if he does, to avoid having to face him.

He stumbles in hours later, reeking of wine and vhagar’s scent— he hums a tune of some sort as he shuffles around, lazily throwing his clothing onto the floor.

Great he’s drunk.

Despite his obnoxious noises, you remain unbothered as you pretend to sleep, your back turned to him and your eyes still shut as you wait for him to undress and get into bed. You expect silence from him, his usual behaviour even on nights when he’s dead sober. You used to excuse his cold attitude from being too exhausted from his duties to wish you goodnight. Now you know he didn’t have any words to share with you, he could barely stand the thought of sharing his nights with you.

“My sweet wife, are you awake?” His voice soft and smoother than honey, a tone you weren’t used to. He wasn’t being short with you for once and it confused you.

You feel his hand caress down your side, sighing heavily he pulls the sheet back and slips into the space behind you. His warmth radiates against your skin as he presses up against you more personally now, his arm circling your waist and face nuzzled into the back of your hair.

“You smell divine” He hums in satisfaction, hand grazing the skin of your exposed stomach. Although you knew he was drunk, his touches felt good and you tried to savour it for as long as you could— even with the knowledge of how ingenuion his actions were right now.

“I am sorry for how I treated you tonight, that was not— that was not husbandly of me” He stutters out, the first time you’ve ever heard any of his words sound imperfect. His strong facade never faltered with you, with what little words he did share with you he was always so sure about how he spoke to you, it was you who was always a mess.

“Forgive me, my love” He hums, placing soft kisses into your hair as his hand caresses your skin lovingly. For once you feel a small smile grace your lips, his sweet words causing you to feel emotional.

All you ever wanted was his love. For him to treat you with the utmost care and for you both to finally find love in this marriage of yours, no matter how rocky the beginning may have been. Your only wish was for him to love you the way you love him, to hear him utter the three words you once said to him but never received back. Only then could you die a happy woman.

You almost cave in to the urge of breaking your silence and turning around to face your husband. You want to kiss him, caress his face as you confess how long you’ve been waiting for him to treat you so delicately. His touch full of love and care rather than the coldness you’ve grown accustomed to.

“I love you, Alys”

His words cause your stomach to drop, tears burning in your eyes that were now open and facing the panels on the wall beside you. Aemond repeats his words again, wincing slightly you shut your eyes tight and wait for him patiently to fall into a drunken sleep.

He was never talking to you. Those sweet words he just uttered moments ago were meant for his true love, Alys— not you.

The realisation makes you shut your eyes tight, tears shedding from them and trailing down your cheeks freely as you try to comfort yourself. Aemond falls asleep with his arm around your waist and face nuzzled into your shoulder, he feels so close but so far away from you.

He will never be yours

You repeat in your head like torture as you lull yourself to sleep, finally being able to rest with the finalisation that you were always going to be the other woman.

i. the first encounter

pairing aemond targaryen x fem!reader genre best friends brother, summer home, modern au, eventual smut, secret relationship, college students

you marvel at the targaryen summer home and find yourself intrigued by helaena's mysterious brother, aemond.

warnings for this chapter. a bit of rhaenyra slander (i love her this is just a fic). aemond talks once lol. mother alicent! targaryen girls suspect alicent and criston are hooking up (they are). reader and aemie share a bathroom smirks. aemond lore unlocked. SHORT HAIR AEMOND RAHHH. aemond does not wear an eyepatch here sorry. not much for this one sorry, it will get better trust me!

word count. 3172

SERIES MASTERLIST 𖤐 KO-FI 𖤐 CROSS-POSTED TO AO3

With Helaena Targaryen as your roommate, your first year of university flew by. She was like a burst of caffeine when you were feeling drained — her presence was as noticeable as the moon in the night sky, shining brighter than all the stars. Helaena’s easy going nature made her an instant friend, and her keen awareness of her surroundings meant she could read you well. Knowing you lacked the courage to make other friends (just as she did), she had no trouble inviting you to join her friends Baela and Rhaena — who you later discovered were actually her cousins (by discovered you mean you suspected they were because of the violet eyes and the silver hair). Although their family connection initially intimidated you, they never made you feel like an outsider.

As summer drew to a close, you dreaded the approaching end of your break. Other summers, most of your time off was spent indoors, lying in bed and binge-watching one series after another. Your parents weren’t neglectful, but they were far from attentive. As a result, you didn't share the same excitement for summer as everyone else.

Helaena soon noticed that you seemed upset. Her instincts were as sharp as they were uncanny — despite your efforts to mask your mood, she saw right through it. When she asked what was bothering you, you hesitated to explain how dull your summer had been, fearing you might come across as a snob. However, Helaena was persistent and wouldn’t let the matter drop until she got to the bottom of it.

You confided in Helaena about how you felt, not expecting her to do anything about it. You knew that even if you stayed in the dorm over the summer, she would still have to go home, making your situation no different from returning to your own place. Your year at university had been made wonderful not by the academic experience, but by Helaena and her cousins, Baela and Rhaena.

To you, the Targaryens were like heaven on earth. So when they offered to take you home with them for the summer, it felt like a dream come true, as if angels were granting your wish.

Kings Landing, where their summer house was located, was only about an hour from the university, so the train was a convenient option since none of you had a car. You took the window seat — essential for you, as you couldn’t bear to be in a vehicle without gazing outside. Helaena sat beside you, with a throw blanket spread over both your laps while she embroidered on her stitch sampler. Baela sat in front of you, nose deep in a book, and Rhaena sat beside her, headphones on and brows furrowed as she sketched doodles in her sketchbook.

“Okay,” Helaena announces, drawing your and Baela’s attention. Rhaena, too engrossed in her music, was oblivious to the conversation. You couldn’t help but think she might end up deaf by thirty with the volume she had on. Baela nudged her twin to get her attention, and Helaena continued. “Before we get there, we just want you to know that our family isn’t like most families… rather—”

“Dysfunctional?” Rhaena interjects. “Chaotic? Oh, oh, problematic! Did I mention dysfunctional?”

It was clear that the three girls had mixed feelings about their family and its dynamics. You couldn’t help but wonder why they were heading back home for the summer if they felt this way. You hoped they were just being dramatic and that it wasn’t as bad as they made it seem. However, their reactions whenever they talked about their family suggested otherwise.

“Well, yes, but perhaps we should tell her about everyone,” Helaena suggests. “The good things, of course.”

“What good thi–oof!”

Baela interrupts Rhaena with a shove to her side. Rhaena winces and rubs her side while pouting at her sister.

“There’s Alicent, Hel’s mother,” Baela begins.

“Although, we suspect she’s sleeping with Cole, the butler.” Helaena whispers, as if anyone who shouldn’t know this is around. Baela and Rhaena nod in agreement, humming their assent.

Your jaw drops. It seemed that the Targaryen family might indeed be as chaotic as they’d hinted.

“Um, then there’s my brother Aegon,” Helaena continues. “He has a tendency to flirt with anything that has a vagina, so if he makes you uncomfortable, let us know and we’ll deal with him.”

“Oh! Tell her about Aemond!” Rhaena chimes in eagerly.

“You talk about Aemond as if he’s a scary story time character.” Baela says.

“He is a scary story time character. Have you ever been in a room alone with him? Even his silence scares me.”

“Who is Aemond?” you ask, curiously.

“One of my brothers,” Helaena answers. “He’s just… different.”

“As in?” you prompt, encouraging her to elaborate.

“As in he's scary and a bit weird.” Rhaena interjects, earning another nudge from Baela.

“He just keeps to himself.” Helaena says in nicer words. “When we were kids, our nephew Jace and him got into a pretty serious fight. They were pushing and punching, and Jace’s brother, Luke, stepped in. He ended up taking Aemond’s eye out with a rock. Luke was just protecting his brother; they were all kids at the time. My sister never apologized for her sons doing. But Aemond could never forgive them even if she did. Losing his eye has caused him much more pain than any of us will ever know.”

“Things just get awkward when the boys and their mother, Rhaenyra, come around.” Baela adds. “Especially between Alicent and her.”

“She still comes by?” you ask.

“Yep,” Rhaena confirms. “She’s her fathers favorite.”

Helaena stiffens at that, head hanging low.

Gods, this family had much more layers than you initially realized.

Rhaenyra sounded like the main root of the family chaos. It was appalling for her son to take out her brother's eye, even if it was an accident. Whether or not Aemond would forgive Luke for what he did, losing his eye would cause him pain eternally, surely there would always be some sort of resentment towards the boy. And with Rhaenyra being her father’s favorite, it was understandable that Helaena — and possibly her brothers — might have complicated feelings about it.

The conversation tapered off, and everyone returned to their activities for the rest of the train ride. Yet, you could sense a subtle shift in Helaena beside you, a quiet tension that hadn’t been there before.

Once the train arrived in Kings Landing, you grabbed your bags and followed the Targaryen girls through the crowded platform. They were scanning the sea of faces, struggling to locate who they were looking for. Somehow, they spotted the person — a quite attractive man with dark, long curly locks and facial hair. You only realized they did when Rhaena grabbed you by your wrist and pulled you along with them.

It wasn’t until Baela referred to him as ‘Cole’ did you register that this was the Targaryen butler. And you wouldn’t say it out loud but you did not blame Helaena’s mother if she was actually hooking up with him. Just saying. Apparently, Alicent ordered Cole to drive to the train station and pick you four up. Now, you don’t know if the speculations are true, but whatever kind of leash Alicent has around Cole’s neck, you might need.

The drive to the Targaryen summer home was captivating, especially since you had never been to Kings Landing before. You gazed out the window in awe, hardly paying attention to the conversations inside the car. The city was vibrant and bustling compared to your hometown. The streets were teeming with activity, the people seemed more alive, and the sun shone more brightly with a bluer sky. As the Targaryen summer home came into view, you felt certain that this summer was going to be the best three months of your life.

When the Targaryen girls mentioned their summer home, you expected something modest. Instead, the mansion before you was far beyond your expectations. Tall gates encircled the estate, with even grander gates marking the entrance. As Cole confirmed his identity, the gates swung open like doors, and as he drove inside, you felt like a child discovering a toy store.

In the front yard, a majestic water fountain stood with a dragon statue perched on top, adding to the surprise. The Targaryen girls had never hinted at their family's immense wealth, making this sight even more astonishing.

As Cole drove around the fountain, you spotted a woman with red hair in a green dress standing near the front doors, with guards positioned in front of them. Her face lit up with a warm smile as Helaena stepped out of the car, her arms outstretched, clearly eager to embrace her daughter.

“Oh, my sweet,” she said, her voice filled with emotion as she hugged Helaena longingly. “I’ve missed you so much.”

“I missed you too, Mum,” Helaena mumbled into her mother’s shoulder, clinging to her waist as if afraid to let go.

You were surprised by how young Helaena’s mother looked, especially for someone with three children (as far as you knew). There wasn’t a wrinkle in sight, and her skin was practically flawless. If you hadn’t known better, Alicent could easily pass as Helaena’s sister. You watched as the two embraced, completely absorbed in each other, as though no one else existed. Throughout the months away from home, Helaena often expressed how much she missed her mother. You knew how close they were. On some nights, Helaena would cry, longing for the comfort of her mum after a long, stressful day. It pained you that you couldn’t do anything to help, but seeing them reunited now eased some of the guilt you felt for those nights.

Alicent finally pulls back, her eyes scanning Helaena from head to toe. Then she immediately bombards her with questions: “How’s university treating you? Have you been eating well? Are you drinking enough water?” 

Helaena chuckled softly, reassuring her mother over and over that she was fine until Alicent was finally convinced. Alicent’s large brown eyes then shifted to you, acknowledging your presence for the first time. Sensing the moment, Helaena took the opportunity to introduce you to her mother.

“Hello, Mrs. Targaryen. Thank you for letting me into your home.” you say softly.

“No worries, my dear. I’m glad Helaena and her sweet cousins could make you feel comfortable,” Alicent replies with a warm smile. “And please, call me Alicent.”

You smile back at her. Acknowledging the Targaryen twins, she greets and hugs them warmly. You were initially concerned that she might not be so welcoming — after all, who wants their child’s friend staying for an entire summer? Thankfully, she was charming, and her demeanor quickly put you at ease.

Her attention then shifted to Cole, who stood by the car with his arms behind his back and his eyes fixed on the ground. The atmosphere grew tense, and because of this, you realized the girls’ speculation about the two of them wasn’t just speculation — it was true. The four of you felt awkward; Cole looked clearly intimidated by her gaze, while Alicent showed no sign of discomfort.

“Ser Criston,” she called. His head lifted immediately. “If you would grab everyone’s bags from the car and take them inside.”

Obediently, he opened the trunk and began unloading the luggage.

“Come,” Alicent said to you. “I’ll show you to your room.”

Helaena, Baela, and Rhaena went off to help Cole with the luggage, while you followed Alicent. When you and Alicent walked up the stairs to the entrance, the big doors creaked as the guards opened them. As you stepped through the grand entrance, you were immediately struck by its opulence. The walls were a rich, deep green, adding a touch of elegance to the expansive space. A grand spiral staircase ascended gracefully to the upper levels, its intricate ironwork gleaming in the sunlight. The light poured in from the tall, arched windows, casting a warm, inviting glow across the room. Below, the checkered black-and-white floors added a striking contrast and a sense of timeless charm. Each detail, from the sweeping staircase to the delicate vases on the mantelpieces, seemed to whisper stories of luxury and history. Overwhelmed by the sheer beauty and grandeur, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of awe, marveling at the lavish surroundings that seemed straight out of a fairy tale.

Before you could vocally express how beautiful the home was, Alicent surprised you by linking her arm with yours, holding on tightly. Although it startled you at first, it didn’t make you uncomfortable. In fact, it was quite touching how Alicent welcomed her guests with such open warmth, treating you as if you were one of her own.

“I’m sure Helaena’s mentioned her brother, Aemond?” Alicent asks as she guides you toward the stairs.

“Yes,” you reply, focusing on your feet to avoid tripping on the steps.

“Good,” she says, her initial tension easing into a more relaxed tone. “He’s a good kid. Quite quiet, which some people mistake for rudeness, but he doesn’t mean any harm. And, well, the scar can be a bit intimidating for some. I hope you understand.”

“I do,” you nod. “I’m not one to judge someone so quickly.”

“That’s great,” Alicent replies with a soft hum. “Your room is directly across from his, so I wouldn’t want you to feel any sort of discomfort during your stay here. The bathroom is also connected to both rooms, so you’ll be sharing that. I would have put you in another room, but they’re all taken since Rhaenyra, Helaena’s half-sister, and her sons will be arriving tomorrow.”

“I really don’t mind, Mrs. Targaryen,” you assure her. “I’m just grateful for your hospitality.”

The corners of Alicent’s lips curl into a grateful smile, appreciating your understanding. She leads you down the hall and opens the door to reveal your room. The space exudes a serene and inviting charm. Much like the foyer, the walls are painted the same shade of green. At the center of the room is a bed with crisp, plain white sheets, its simplicity adding a touch of understated elegance. The walls are adorned with a selection of paintings, each frame carefully chosen to complement the room’s color scheme and add visual interest. A bookshelf in one corner is decorated with faux vines that drape playfully over its edges, enhancing the room's cozy, natural feel. Next to the bookshelf, a plush reading chair invites relaxation, perfectly positioned for enjoying a good book. The polished wood floors gleam with a warm luster, reflecting the soft light and contributing to the room’s overall sense of calm and refinement. It felt surreal that you would be living here for a few months.

“Make yourself comfortable,” Alicent says. “I’ll be downstairs if you need anything.”

You thank her again as she leaves, still processing the luxury of your surroundings. Helaena enters the room and notices the stunned look on your face.

“You alright?” she asks, a hint of amusement in her voice.

“When were you going to tell me how filthy rich your family is?” you exclaim, trying to wrap your head around the splendor of it all.

Helaena merely shrugs her shoulders, a nonchalant smile on her lips. “It never came up.”

You chuckle, shaking your head in disbelief. As you start unpacking and settling in, Helaena continues to chat casually, easing you into the rhythm of life at the mansion. Suddenly, the door across from yours opens, revealing a tall man. His short silver hair has a few strands falling across his forehead, and he’s dressed entirely in black — a black polo shirt, black slacks, and black dress shoes. You notice a long scar running from his forehead down to his cheek. One of his eyes is violet, while the other is blue, clearly a prosthetic replacing the eye his nephew had taken. This was the infamous Aemond everyone kept telling you about.

Helaena smiled warmly as she gestured toward her brother to come into the room. She introduced your name to him as Aemond glanced briefly in your direction, his violet eye meeting yours for a moment. You gave him a soft smile before he gave a slight nod. Without a word, he let out a noncommittal hum and turned, his black-clad figure moving with a casual grace as he walked down the hallway.

"Well," you say, "he's not one for conversation, is he?"

"He means no harm," Helaena replies. "He’s just a very reserved person. He’ll warm up to you once he gets to know you. Meet me downstairs once you’re done packing."

As she leaves, you take in the elegant surroundings of your new room, a sense of unease creeps in knowing that you and Aemond will be living in such close quarters. You’re determined to avoid any awkwardness between you, especially given the high stakes of this arrangement. Striving to maintain a cordial and comfortable atmosphere, you remind yourself to be friendly and open, hoping to navigate this delicate situation with grace. The last thing you want is for any tension to overshadow the peace of this lovely setting.

The rest of the day passed quickly.

After finishing unpacking your clothes into the dresser, you went downstairs. The three Targaryen girls gave you a thorough tour of their home, and by the time you completed the tour, dinner was ready. The four of you, Alicent, and Aemond all gathered for the meal. Aegon had arrived the previous day but was out with friends for drinks, while their father, Viserys, was resting upstairs. You hadn’t met him yet, but Rhaena mentioned that he was much older than Alicent and wasn’t doing well health wise.

Dinner was pleasant. Alicent was lively, engaging in conversation with everyone, while Aemond remained quiet, seemingly content to linger in the background and enjoy the meal in silence. Still, you noticed him stealing glances at you, and once, when your eyes met, you expected him to look away. But he didn’t. His gaze held yours, steady and intense, until you, unnerved, were the one to break it.

After dinner, everyone retreated to their rooms. As you gathered clothes for a shower, you heard a door creak open behind you. Assuming it was one of the Targaryen girls, you didn’t turn around.

“I’m going to shower,” a soft, yet distinctly masculine voice spoke.

That's when you turned around, seeing Aemond standing in the doorway of your shared bathroom. The sound of his voice, so rarely heard in conversation, and his presence, caught you off guard.

“Oh—um, okay,” you stammered, trying to gather your thoughts. “I’ll just wait until you’re done.”

Aemond gave a small hum, much like the one he'd given earlier when Helaena introduced you, then quietly shut the door. Moments later, the sound of running water filled the silence, and you exhaled a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding.

This summer was certainly going to be interesting.

begging for an invisible!reader pt.2 ill do whatever you want 🙏🙏🙏

Your Perfume II (Logan Howlett) nsfw

A/N: age gap, student!reader x logan, 18+ f!reader, mutant reader(invisibility), kinky!logan, invisible intercourse

Your Perfume

“Not here,” You whisper as he’s sliding a hand up your tank top and you realize you’re still in the kitchen, even if you are invisible. “They’re going to hear us.”

“Let ‘em,” He murmurs as he continues kissing your neck amorously, holding you close to him. “As long as they can’t see you.”

You protest, pushing him off gently. “Not out here.” You insist and he groans as he loses you out of his hold. He can smell you moving towards the staircase and he follows like a dog on a chain. “Come on.” Your voice calls him up the stairs where he watches your bedroom room open with a smirk before he walks in and then the door closes behind him.

Logan turns around and listens carefully. “Where’d you go, little ghost?” He teases and he hears you giggle in front of him now. His hand immediately reaches out and you gasp as he catches your shoulder. Logan laughs while pulling you back into him, one arm around your waist and the other moving along your shoulder to your neck. “Gotcha.” He says before he runs a thumb over your chin and your bottom lip, kissing you there softly as he guides you to the bed.

While he can’t see you, he can feel you in his arms, your legs wrapped around him, he can hear you whining underneath him as his fingers find their way into your dripping core. He can’t see you, but he can smell you, that perfume you wear and the scent of your arousal. Your slick covers his hand as he is pumping his fingers into you, guiding himself by the noise and the familiar anatomy of a woman. If he closes his eyes, he can picture you, your pretty face scrunched up from pleasure, your mouth open from the intensity of your approaching orgasm. His other hand is groping your breast, he can feel your shirt riding up and he pulls his fingers out of you with a squelch before he pulls your shirt off.

It appears the moment it’s off your body and he drops it on the floor with a smirk. “That’s interesting.” He says and he hears you chuckle. “Let’s see those little short come off, baby.” He instructs as he gets off your bed and pulls his sweatpants off. He can hear you shuffling and then your pajama shorts appear out of thin air as you toss them on the floor. “You’ve got quite a party trick there.” He chuckles making you laugh and he guides himself off you laugh, reaching onto the bed, and feeling your knees. Your body trembles underneath his touch as he spreads your legs open and he can smell you, his mouth watering as he touches you, feeling for your core and then replaces his fingers with his tongue when he finds your center.

“Logan,” Your voice breathes out, he can feel your fingers lacing through your hair and you tug as he’s making a mess of your pussy. Drooling and groaning against your sopping folds. “Oh, fuck!” He can feel your legs tremble and he is quick to pull away. “Hm.” You whine sadly.

“Don’t worry, baby, I’m not done.” Logan smirks, picturing how dazed you must look right now as he’s feeling his way up your body. “I want you to cum on my cock.” His hands touch your hips and your belly and your breasts where he stops to suck on them, bite them, mark them while you desperately roll your hips into him. Your juices coat the length of his shaft and Logan looks down to see the sheen appear out of nowhere. “Fuck, that’s hot.” Your body moves underneath him, he feels your hands on his shoulders as he’s pushing into you. Logan can see his cock through you, he can see the way it meets the resistance of your tight cunt, the way your walls squeeze him, and it’s almost too much to handle.

“Oh, my God!” You gasp, deep indentations appearing along his shoulders as you dig your nails into him. “I can’t take it.” You whimper, but he’s too caught up in watching himself drag out of you, push back in slowly, each time his cock is slicker with your juices. Logan’s focusing so hard on not blowing his load right then, the idea of being able to see himself fuck you riling him up.

“You’re doing so good,” He praises, suddenly sitting up on his knees and he feels for your hips, holding tightly onto you as he begins fucking you hard, gasping as he watches himself move through your invisible form. “Feels so fucking good.” He groans, watching his cock pump in and out of seemingly nothing, but the feeling of you so real. You’re whining and fisting the sheets so that they appear to be lifting on their own and Logan growls as your arousal begins to coat him with a creamy substance.

“I’m go-gonna-fuck!” You cry out as your body trembles in his hold and suddenly you’re appearing in front of him, shifting in and out of your visibility in tandem with the force of your orgasm. Logan groans at the sight of you writhing, pushing on him, gasping as you cum hard on his cock. And then you’re solid again, visibly fucked out and breathless as your chest is heaving from the intensity of pleasure.

“There you are.” Logan smirks, leaning over you, panting as he kisses you roughly. You wrap your arms around his neck as he’s pounding into you rhythmically and you feel his cock throb inside you. “Fuck, baby,” Logan buries his face in the crook of your neck as he releases his load. It sits deep inside you and you feel the warmth of him, the way his cock softly pulses against your walls with each spurt. “Never thought invisible sex would be quite that fun.”

You roll your eyes and playfully smack his shoulder as he chuckled, pulling out of you slowly and resting his forehead on yours. “Was it what you expected?”

Logan shook his head as he laid beside you and pulled you into his chest. “No, it was better,” He said while kissing your forehead. “Because it was with you.”

There was an overwhelming demand for a second part and I was far too excited to oblige you, kind readers! Let me know what you thought😁💕

🏷️: @dontfeedthebigbadwolf @peterparkernotfound @httpsells @evasmlp @ayatotiddies @thatlittlered @seasonofthenerd @littlemisscantloveyouback @scorpiosaintt @simpingfor-wakasa @spencerswh0r3

if you're taking requests, could i request an dofp!logan making reader hump a hitachi wand attached to a pillow while he talks her through it as he sits in a chair and jerks off 🙏🏽 i just know he'd be all mean and dirty with it too, he's filthy like that

i would actually sob if you see this 😭

Good Girl (Logan Howlett) nsfw

A/N: dofp!logan, age gap, 18+ f!reader, bodyguard!logan, innocent!reader, orgasm delay, mutual masturbation, use of a vibrator, voyeurism, exhibitionism, brief intercourse

The bar was becoming crowded and quite rowdy. You could hardly move around between the patrons, raising the drink tray above your head to avoid spilling or bumping into someone. “One whiskey, neat.” You say with a small smile as you hand Logan his usual.

“Thanks, princess.” Logan says, handing you a folded bill which you take appreciatively. “Where’s your dad?” He asked as he sipped his liquor.

You turned around and looked behind the bar to see that he was not where you last saw him. “He must be in the office. Go on in if you need to talk to him.” You smile kindly before you return to the bar to help the other bartenders. Logan watches you, the way your body moves seamlessly between the crowd, the cool and collected smile on your face that never falters. You make him ache when he can’t touch you, at least not when you’re out in public. He was hired to watch over you, that was the extent of his contact with you, but he got greedy.

“Boss,” Logan greets your father who is sitting in his office with two other business associates. “Crowd’s getting kind of heavy. I’m taking her home.” He informs the man who simply nods and thanks him before he returns to his business meeting. Logan makes his way to the bar and he beckons you over to him with two fingers. “We’re leaving.” He says in your ear and you smile, nodding as you hold up one finger and hurry back to your co-workers to give them a heads up.

Effortlessly, Logan guides you out of the bar and into his car. You sit quietly in the passenger seat, biting your lip as his hand softly moves up and down your thigh. “Couldn’t wait to get me out, huh?” You ask with a light smirk and Logan chuckles.

“You know I can only handle so much when you wear that little uniform.” He says, making your core clench as his fingers slide between your bare thighs underneath your black work skirt, brushing gently against your panties. You hum softly in pleasure and let your legs open a little for him to feel the wet spot seeping through the thin fabric of your thong. “Already?” He asks with a raised brow that makes you smile shyly.

Once you’re back at your apartment, Logan mentions he wants to try something new and you feel goosebumps rise on your arms as he’s leading you to the bedroom. “What do you wanna try?” You ask with that sweet little smile as he stands you by your bed.

“Can you be a good girl for me and undress?” He asks as he pulls your desk chair out and positions it to face the end of your bed. You toe your sneakers off as he rummages through your drawers, watching him anxiously as you undress.

Logan pulls out your personal body massager and you bite your bottom lip nervously as he unbuckles his belt. “What’re you doing?” You ask curiously as you think he’s going to tie you up, but instead he grabs one of your pillows to which he fastens the vibrator with his leather belt. Logan places the pillow on the middle of your bed and he extends his hand out to you.

“C’mere, princess,” He smirks, guiding you to straddled the pillow and he tucks the soft silicone between your thighs before he turns it on. You moan softly, placing your hands on your thighs as the vibration relaxes you. “That’s it, just like that.” Logan unbuttons his jeans and pulls his cock out as he sits in your desk chair to watch you. “Don’t cum until I tell you.” He warns and you feel your cheeks grow warm as you nod, showing that you understand.

The vibrations are nice and gentle, you can feel the heat rise between your legs as you let the silicone sit against your clit. Your eyes are on Logan who is slowly stroking his cock and you watch as it becomes hard at the sight of you pleasuring yourself for him simply because he told you to do so. Your legs tremble warningly, you let your head hang back slightly as you feel the oncoming wave of pleasure and you have to remind yourself that you cannot indulge in it, not yet. “Fuck,” You gasp lightly, holding onto the tension and digging your fingers into your thighs. “Logan?” You ask, breathing heavily.

“Yeah, baby?” Logan asks, the head of his cock leaking a little already.

“How many?”

“One more, hold onto one more and then I’ll fuck you nice and slow, just how you like it.” He promises, moistening his lips as he watches you nod and you slowly begin humping your pillow. The vibrator continues its torturous stimulation and you feel tears well in yours eyes as you’ve never before experienced something quite like this. “You look so damn pretty like that, princess. Does it feel good?” Logan asks and you nod, looking up at him as you continue rolling your hips, whining and biting your bottom lip hard to keep yourself focused. “I bet it does. You’re such a good girl, doing these filthy things to get me off. You like when I have you try something new, baby?”

“Yes,” You gasp, his cooing and sweet words arousing you all the more and you cry softly as you hold onto your second orgasm, fisting tightly onto the pillow as your hold yourself on the ruthless vibrator, your arousal leaking onto it. “Yes, I like it!”

Logan groans at the sight of you all sensitive and he pulls his t-shirt off as he stands up from the chair he was occupying. “Go on and lay back,” He instructs as he’s stepping out of his jeans and then turns the wand off, setting it down in the chair before he crawls over your trembling frame. “Let me take care of you, princess.” He murmurs, kissing you softly as his cock rubs through your folds, tapping on your clit which makes you whine. Logan chuckles when you give him a resentful glance and he dips his head to kiss your neck apologetically. “Want me to fuck you?” Your arms wrap around him as he’s already sliding into your cunt slowly, pushing deep until he’s sitting right against your cervix and you sob softly at the feeling of being stuffed by him.

“Yes, fuck me!” You beg, your hips rolling against him desperately and he chuckles into your neck.

“Where’d those manners go, baby?” He asked in amusement, slowly pulling out of you just to plow back in.

“Please, Logan,” You whimper, looking up through teary eyes at the man hired to protect you, to tend to you. “Please, fuck me.”

“That’s my good girl.”

The request was meant to be mean!logan, but I just finished editing the second chapter of Uncle Logan and I really needed sweet!logan🤧 I hope you like it! Let me know what you think:)

🏷️: @dontfeedthebigbadwolf @peterparkernotfound @httpsells @evasmlp @ayatotiddies @thatlittlered @seasonofthenerd @littlemisscantloveyouback @scorpiosaintt @simpingfor-wakasa @spencerswh0r3

Northern Attitude - cregan stark x reader

Summary: Cregan’s wife feels he is a cold and distant husband, but he finds a way to show her just how much he loves her. he doesn’t mean to be cold it’s just his northern attitude 😏

cw: smutttttyyyyyyy it was almost fluff but i just can’t help myself lol. reader slaps cregan a few times, (not abusively im just a freak😔), size diff, oral (f & m receiving), spanking, porn with little plot

masterlist

Cregan Stark loved and adored his wife. Perhaps he loved her almost too much, as he avoided doing anything that might tarnish her as a lady.

He did not share his chambers with her, even though that was the custom in the North. He rarely touched her, aside from their rather delicate bedding ceremony after their union. And, he rarely spoke to her, as he was too afraid of saying anything that may disrespect her.

His wife found this agonizing.

Their union had, of course, been one out of duty but it didn’t change the fact Cregan had been more interested in her than any other maiden in the North. Her father, Lord Mooton, had offered her hand years ago when Cregan’s father Rickon still ruled the North, but his father felt Cregan should one day make that decision on his own when he became Warden of the North.

Cregan had met her when they were both ten and three, when his father Rickon hosted a feast for all of the Northern lords to come and celebrate the end of a particularly harsh winter.

She was timid and quiet, but they shared a dance and then she had never left Cregan’s mind since.

Now, some odd years later, she was his wife and he was delighted. However, his wife believed to think their union was misery for him.

Their first bedding was ever so gentle, Cregan lightly caressing her hair and cheeks, yet he held his head low into her neck to contain his moans. Her sweet whines and whimpers made him want to go feral, yet he dared not defile his wife.

She was still the quiet girl he fell in love with all those years ago. She sat next to him silently during feasts and trips to other houses, almost like a pet that only acts when called upon. When she did attempt to make conversation with her husband, his words were short and dry. She knew Northern men were often of few words, but she did not expect her union to be that way. If he was so cold, why had he chosen her specifically? The thought frustrated her greatly.

It was not his intention to be this way. It was just how his father was, and he couldn’t help but learn that behavior.

When Cregan learned he would have to make a moon’s trip to the Wall, he wanted to make sure his wife would be in well hands before leaving.

Knock. Knock. Knock

“You may enter.” She said, softly.

She turned as her husband entered her chambers, dressed in his furs and armor. Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He closed the door behind him, then stepped a few paces closer inside her chambers.

“Are you leaving?” She asked, trying to hide the frustration in her voice.

“I must go to the Wall; the men there are in dire need of supplies and support. I plan to bring any prisoners of Winterfell to clear up our cells so that they may take the black.” He says, walking to sit across from her in front of the hearth. He admires her soft gray gown. Her hair was in Northern braids, out of her face so that it was revealing her delicate features. Her eyebrows knitted again, something he noticed she did when she was upset.

“Will you be alright to rule in my stead while I am gone?” He asks.

“I will be fine, husband.” She responds, curtly.

“If you feel unsure, I can-“ He asks, wanting to make sure she feels comfortable enough, but she cannot hide her anger anymore.

“I said I will be fine! Just go, and leave me alone as you always do!” She yells, standing and walking away from their seats at the fire place.

“Have I offended?” He asks, following behind her. He rests a hand on her shoulder, but she turns to face him and pushes it away.

“No. You’ve made your point to not offend at all, in fact. We’ve been wed for three moons, you’ve only taken me to your bed once, and you refuse to even acknowledge that I’m here. You avoid me like the plague, Cregan. Have I been the one that has done something to offend?” She asks, her voice thick with anger.

He can’t help but let out a dry laugh, “Apologies, my wife,” He takes her hands in his, and she nearly gasps in shock at his touch. “You must forgive my northern attitude, I was raised on little light.”

“You seem to forget I’m Northern as well, husband.” She says, finally catching his eyes for the first time in their marriage. A small smirk plays on his lips.

“My wife, you are such a beauty, and if I am a distant husband then I apologize for that. It is no fault of your own. I simply do not wish to… treat you any less than a lady deserves, but it seems I have gotten too lost on the way. I apologize for my errors, Lady Stark.” He rubs his fingers gently over her hands. She doesn’t know how to respond, a dry chuckle escaping her lips. All this time, all she wanted was some hint that Cregan Stark had any sort of emotions or feelings, and here was her confirmation. He did, and by the old gods and the new did he have many for her.

“When I return, my dear wife,” His finger traces her jawline. “I promise you that I will treat you with the respect you want and deserve. In the meantime, I do beg for your forgiveness. This is my first union.”

She lets out another dry chuckle. “It’s mine as well.”

He presses a gentle kiss to her cheek. “I will send a raven the moment I reach Castle Black.”

With that he turns to leave…

But she isn’t done with him.

Cregan is almost sure it didn’t happen, he hardly even felt a breeze through his furs, but when he hears the sound of metal on the floor he knows she threw something at him.

He turns to look at the mug on the floor, then to his wife, bewildered. “Did you just throw a chalice at me?”

“Your lady has not given you permission to leave.” She says, “I want the wolf I was promised.” She continues, standing across the room.

“What?” He asks, confused. She throws another mug at him, but he deflects it this time. “Stop, what- What are you doing?!”

He holds his arms up to shield himself as his wife throws more and more objects from him, including her boots, candelabras, books, nearly anything she can get her hands on.

He walks towards her, angry, ready to… he doesn’t even know, perhaps frighten her into stopping.

She places his hand on his chest when he’s finally in her reach. She takes his hand, pressing it to her chest to tear off her gown. He lets his hand go limp, but she makes him do the work anyway. He’s too confused to understand because she was just so angry with him. She lets his hand fall and begins to take off the dress herself. It falls to the floor off her body, and then she is standing naked before him.

“My lady-“ She cuts him off with a harsh slap across his face. He stares back at her, his jaw slack.

She does it again, his head barely even moving at her hand. It wasn’t the pain (there was none), but the act that was pissing him off.

She goes for a third, but he grabs her by the wrist before she can reach him.

“This is your only warning, my dear wife.” He says, holding her small wrist in his hand.

“Or what?” She teases. It was that response; that sultry, lustful, desperate response that makes him realize she was teasing him. She was aching for him, eager for her husband before he left her.

He doesn’t move, staring her down with a fire burning in his gray eyes. Her other hand finds his other cheek again, and his length grows stiff in his leathers.

He lets go of her wrist, only to grab her by the waist and toss her on her bed. She gasps as she lands, giggling shortly after.

He climbs over her, resting his weight on his hands and leaning in to give her a deep and tender kiss. She moans, immediately pulling his head closer and weaving her fingers in his curls. He moans in response, his hand finding its way to her breast.

“I’ll make it up to you, wife.” Cregan says, pressing kisses on her cheek before moving down her body. He kisses every part, before resting between her legs. His hands wrap around her thighs, kissing and licking softly just outside her wetness.

She whines, wiggling around only for him to press a hand on her stomach to keep her still. He pulls her onto his lips, and she lets out a sigh of ecstasy. He’s harsh and unrelenting on her cunt, unlike how she’s ever felt before. Her pleads for him fall upon death ears as Cregan realizes just how hungry he was for her.

He wanted to say fuck the journey, fuck the Wall, fuck the North, fuck everything. He wanted to die here, in this sweet and delightful cunt of his wife’s. Her fingers lace into his brown curls, pulling on them tightly, and he whimpers at the sweet pain.

Her eyes water as she draws closer to her climax, the feeling so foreign and unique that she doesn’t know how to react.

“Husband, oh gods.” She cries. She grinds her hips onto his face, and he lets her lead. He locks his eyes onto hers, but that fiery look in his eyes makes her break first, and she throws her head back as she releases onto his lips.

He kisses her thighs as she comes down, a trembling mess in his strong arms. He kisses his way up her bare body, until he’s face to face with her. Her eyes are closed tight as she attempts to catch her breath.

“Will you stop throwing things at me now until I return, my dear?” He asks, gently.

She opens her eyes to look at him, “Where has my wolf been hiding this whole time?”

“In his den.” He gets off the bed and stands, prepared to take his leave when she grabs his wrist.

“You wish to go before I can return the favor?” She asks.

“You needn’t do such thing.” He says, not wanting to cross too many boundaries.

“You’re too modest.” She says, pulling him back towards her by the band of his leathers. He wants to push her off, but can’t. She unlaces his breeches, then stands from the bed to remove his cloak and furs.

“My men are waiting for me, wife.”

“What’s a few more minutes to the Warden of the North?” She says, lowly. She undresses him, from his armor down to his small clothes.

She kisses down his chest, as he just did to her moments prior. She slowly takes him into her mouth, licking and sucking on his length.

Cregan groans, his hand instinctively finding its grip in her hair. She whimpers at the sudden pull, and he immediately loosens it.

“Don’t stop. I like it.” She whispers against him. He obliges, pushing her head deeper onto him.

“Fuck.” Cregan moans in the air, his voice rising an octave. He’s almost embarrassed at how desperate he sounds. “Please, wife, just like that.”

His hands gently rest on the sides of her head, his fingers woven into her hair as she slobbers onto him.

“My husband is more needy than me.” She whispered, and gods was she right. Cregan had grown to regret being so coy with his wife the past few months.

“The gods have blessed me with you, my wife.” He moans, and she smirks onto him. She finally had him right where she wanted him.

“Then bless me in return.” She says, pulling away and leaning back on the bed, spreading her legs to bare her sweet cunt to him. He moans at the sight alone. He crawls over her, positioning his length along her entrance. She eagerly wiggles her hips, only for him to push her hips down.

“Patience, little wife.” He says.

“I’ve been patient for three months. I fucking want you, Cregan.” She pushes him onto his back beside her. She mounts him, sliding herself down onto him. Cregan moans loudly, and she smirks.

She ignores the aching stretch, immediately grinding her hips against him. His hands grasp her waist, holding them so tightly they’ll bruise by the time he leaves.

She throws her head back in ecstasy as Cregan keeps his attention on her face. She is beautiful, even when she is a whining and sweaty mess. One of his hands cup her cheek, weaving his fingers into her locks. She stares down at him, her mouth agape as she moans.

“You are so beautiful, wife.” He says, rocking his hips below her to meet her thrusts. “But your little tantrum isn’t going to go unpunished.”

He locks her in place with his hands, refusing to let her grind against him any longer.

“Wait, Cre-“

He pushes her off, rising from the bed so that he can push her onto her stomach. He pins her wrist behind her back, her fingers twirling to try to find any support to hold onto.

“Now how many items did you throw at me, lovely wife?” Cregan asks, lost in the lust that he had tried to bury when he married his wife. Now, he had no shame to degrade her.

“I… I can’t remember.” She says, muffled into the furs of the sheets.

“I believe it was 6. Let’s make it fair.” He says, landing a harsh smack to her bottom. She lets out a whine, and he pushes himself back inside her, not giving her a moment to catch her breath. Her breath hitches in her throat, and he lands another smack, intending to leave marks.

“Good luck sitting on that throne while I’m gone, wife.” He says, landing way more than 6 smacks to her red bottom. She moans at the pain and pleasure of the smacks and Cregan’s thrusts. The feelings were overwhelming, yet pure ecstasy. Tears brim her eyes as she screams in pleasure, sure enough so loud that all of Winterfell will hear.

“I hate you.” She moans.

“On the contrary. I think you love me.” He says, pressing his chest to her back and wrapping his hand around her throat, continuing to be in relentless with his thrusts. He drowns in her lascivious moans, feeling her cunt leak all over him and her bed. He reaches his other down to her cunt, gasping at all of the wetness that pools in his hand.

“Gods, wife, I didn’t realize how bad we needed each other. You should have told me sooner. I would have defiled you a long time ago.” He groans into her hair. She whimpers pleads of her need for release, and he grants it to her.

She cries in such pleasure, her hands finally finding a comforting grip against Cregan’s hand around her throat.

She rakes her nails into his hand, and he moans, finally spilling himself into her after three long, aching moons.

He presses a gentle kiss to her temple, then pulls out to lay beside her.

“Are you alright, my wife? Did I hurt you?” He asks, caressing her red bottom and her waist, tinted red from his harsh grasp.

“No, not at all.” She breathes.

“No, I didn’t hurt you or no, you’re not alright?”

She laughs, turning to face him to hold his cheek. “Husband, I am better than ever.”

He kisses the tip of her nose, gently caressing her cheek, not wanting to leave her.

“Must you still go, husband?” She asks, sadness in her voice, “Just when I’ve finally got you?”

“Unfortunately I must go… But, tis’ like you said; They can wait another day for the Warden of the North. I want to be with my wife.”

She smirks, propping herself up to look over him. “Northern attitude indeed, my lord husband.”

thank you kind sir 🙏🏼

I most definitely 100% have a type. I am their young controversial gf. You see them? There so bbg 😣

Ex’s and Oh’s

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Synopsis: Sebastian drops a bomb on Tom during a livestream

Masterlist

Since it wasn’t safe to hold conventions yet, you and Tom were asked to do a zoom meeting with the rest of the Marvel Cast. Fans were able to tune in and watch as a moderator asked you questions.

“Are you ready for this?” Tom asked you as you sat down at his office desk.

“I’m a little nervous.” You admitted. “It’s been a while since I’ve done a panel.

“Don’t worry, darling. You’ll be fine. What’s the worst that can happen?” Tom shrugged before joining the zoom.

Continua a leggere

perturbed.

MDNI — 18+ only.

academy!coryo x virgin!reader

summary: in which you and coryo in your relationship reach the point where you want to try sex for the first time — yet it doesn’t go very well.

warnings: p in v, smut, fingering, implied oral sex (f receiving), fluff, distressing theme, read at own risk.

“coryo!” you giggled, your head which was once thrown back now leaning down to cup his beautiful face up to yours, connecting his pillowy lips back onto yours. “—my parents are gonna be home soon, baby.”

“i don’t care,” he murmured. you smiled as you looked down at him, his lips tugging up into a small smirk as he leant down to place peppery kisses along your jaw, to your neck, to your shoulder.

laying in your cozy bed, legs tangled together, you and your boyfriend pawed at each other. your parents had left home a few hours ago, and could be back any minute. however, coriolanus would never let anything get in the way of having his girl, in his arms, with his lips on her.

his hand gently smoothed down your body, reaching your silk shorts, which fortunately granted easy access for his hungry hand to slip underneath. you whimpered at the feeling of his slender finger sliding ever so slowly up your already damp slit through your thin, lacy underwear. “already soaked for me, dove?” coryo whispered against your lips, before gently pulling your panties aside and pressing his thumb against your throbbing clit. an unsolicited moan left your lips. he pushed one of his fingers in, his thumb still slowly rubbing circles over your clit, causing spasms of pleasure through your body. his finger felt so good pumping in and out of you, and your back arched at his touch, your breasts pressing against his chest. the feeling made his rock-hard cock twitch in his boxers, which you felt against your thigh.

oh.

right.

his cock.

in your whole 5 months of dating, you had never really done anything with his dick. simply always throbbing against you whenever you did this. it was always him fingering you, eating you like his last meal, or rubbing your clit till you were on the brink of orgasm. not like you were complaining, of course — but you had nearly forgotten that he had needs too. you wanted - no, ached - to give him the same amount of pleasure he would grant you nearly every fortnight.

while moans left your lips as you neared your orgasm, your mind was still thinking on how you could repay him back. you could jerk him off? no, he deserved better than that. he probably did it every night anyway. you could suck him off? no, too scary.

your mind couldn’t really think of anything else due to your inexperience and, well, because of the second digit he had shoved in you. your mind landed on the last option you had in your love drunk mind.

sex.

your heart skipped a beat at that. nervousness, anticipation, lust. it wouldn’t be your biggest regret, if you ended up breaking up. you concluded. coryo, in your eyes, was a good, loving, and gentle boyfriend. and man. he took care of his cousin, grandma’am, and you. with a deep breath, you pulled your panting lips away from his.

“wait, coryo,” you murmured, looking up at him. he looked angelic in this moment. he hummed back, his eyes changing to concern at your sudden interruption, scanning your face for any discomfort. “i wanna try something.” you whispered.

“i think…” your voice was a small, delicate tone. your eyes watched your finger begin to trail down his abs slowly, too embarrassed on the inside to be making eye contact at this moment. “i think i’m ready. to… have sex.”

his fingers inside you stilled. pulling out of you, he rested the hand on your waist as he used his other to gently pull your chin up to look at him. you obeyed. the look in his eyes was genuine, a caring, comforting look in them. but you saw, behind the honest blue, the hint of primal hunger in them at the thought of fucking you senseless.

“baby… i… are you sure? 100% sure? you’re not pressured by me, right? don’t think you owe me anything, darling.” he assured you, pushing down the intruding thoughts of you bent over his sink as he railed you relentlessly. or your legs hooked over his shoulders as he looked into your eyes whilst abusing your pussy. the scenarios what would race through his mind at night whilst he fisted his cock savagely.

you shook your head, your forehead leaning forward to press against his as you look into his eyes. “no, i know. i want to, coryo. please. i… i need your cock.” you whined, your hips rolling against his extremely stiff dick through his strained boxers.

after a couple more reassurances, he finally was lined up against your cunt, and your heart was beating so fast you thought you were gonna implode. you should be feeling turned on. you should be still gushing at the anticipation of what was about to happen. so why do you feel scared?

coryo didn’t notice at first. he pushed in slowly, checking every second that you were okay. you simply nodded. you didn’t moan. you wanted to. you wanted to be scratching his back, screaming his name, bucking your hips up into his. but instead, you had tears prickling at the corner of your eyes.

everything was muffled, seeming like it was going in slow motion around you. the sounds of his hips slapping against your skin was a distant memory — even though it was happening this very minute.

his grunts and dirty words which left his throat was unfamiliar. it didn’t feel real. the ringing in your ears grew louder and louder, and soon enough tears were streaming down your face.

coryo’s face was buried into the crook of your neck as he thrusted deeply, not realising the sudden blood around his cock inside of you. the way your chest heaved up and down quickly didn’t even occur to him that it was because you were writhing in pain — the whimpers and moans which left your lips was most definitely not of pleasure and the salty wisps of wetness coating your cheeks was not tears of pleasure. it was only the strangled sob of “stop,” that you don’t even remember leaving your mouth was the only thing that got him to look up. the sight of his face dropping and frantic words of worry he spoke wasn’t even audible to you. the feeling of the warm cloth he had gotten from the bathroom to clean up the blood was like having hypoesthesia against your numbness. you were detached from your soul — watching it all happen from above. third person. were you a narrator in your own world?

you were brought back when you felt his arms wrap around you, pulling you closer as he whispered nonstop apologies against your hair, his hands gently cradling you against his chest, in his lap as if you were a priceless china doll which would break if looked at the wrong way. an overwhelming sense of guilt washed over you, and you burst into tears.

it wasn’t meant to be like this. why can’t you get this perturbation out of your body?

Stick it Out to the End

summary: michael is desperate to get into oxford's prestigious bullingdon club; unfortunately for him, they command him to do the impossible to gain admittance

pairing: michael gavey x bimbo!reader

warnings: mature/explicit, 18+ (minors dni!), no use of y/n, afab reader, bimbo reader, mentions of hazing but nothing horrible/extreme, virgin!michael, breast/nipple play, praise kink, piv sex, protected sex (wrap it b4 u tap it), oral sex (f receiving), consensual filming, dirty talk, cursing, what i hope is saltburn-esque humor, mild size kink, mild angst but happy ending, let me know if i missed anything!

word count: 12.7k

a/n: images in the header are for aesthetic purposes only & are not used to describe the reader! she's back and she's long as hell but what else is new!!! this is my first time writing bimbo!reader and while she wasn't super bimbo-y, it was fun getting my feet wet! hope y'all enjoy!

likes, comments, & reblogs are very appreciated but never required!

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Michael

Michael couldn’t help but feel his heart speed up in his chest as he wound through the quiet corridors clutching tightly to the cryptic note he’d found stuffed in his pigeonhole that morning – just a page torn out of a standard notebook covered hastily written red ink; wholly un-intimidating as far as cryptic notes were concerned. Really, he was surprised to see they didn’t put more effort in; with as secretive and imperious as this little club was, he had been expecting some sort of extravagant stationary, perhaps even some gold embossing. 

Coming to a stop in front of an unassuming janitor’s closet door, he narrows his eyes behind the gold frames of his glasses, staring at the door with a nearly accusatorial expression. Michael swivels his head once more, his brows furrowed as he checks and re-checks every door in the vicinity before turning back to the one he stands before. Scoffing, he unfolds the note with a little irritated sigh and quickly scans the page again, mouthing the words to himself for the millionth time that day. 

The riddle had been easy enough to figure out, some trivial little lines about dead men walking, the mob, finding God, and looking to one’s heart pointed right toward some hush hush basement beneath the Merton College Chapel. That, and it didn’t take a genius to see that each line consisted of a specific number of words, pointing him right to the very door he stood in front of now – 129. 

Fucking amateurs, he’d thought after cracking the code in under half an hour. But that was earlier. And now, as he stares at the stupid dull grey janitor’s closet door in front of him, Michael can’t stop the little tendrils of doubt from creeping into his periphery. He’s sure this is the right door and positive this is the right place and yet… janitor’s closet. He checks his watch, 11:50 PM on the dot, and glances up and down the dark, shadowy corridors once more, half expecting one of the twatty rich assholes to jump out and start snickering at him, making fun of him for thinking that a no one like him would’ve ever received an invite to a club like this. 

Shaking his head, he reaches for the doorknob anyway, he’s come this far so he may as well. He freezes a little when it actually turns and his blue eyes go wide when he pushes the door open, shivering a little as he’s met with a wall of cool, dank air – eau de basement, just as he’d expected. A little actually impressed sigh passes his lips when he pokes his head in, an apprehensive smile blooming on his lips as he takes in the eerie red lighting spilling up the stairwell from the God-knows-what downstairs. 

He winces as the door squeaks when he tugs it open but he doesn’t stop, emboldened now as he knows he had been right once again. He takes the stairs quickly, probably too quickly given that he hasn’t a fucking clue what or who could be down here, but before he can dwell on the idea too much, he’s faced with another corridor. This one, unlike the ones upstairs, is narrow and brick-lined and leads in only one direction, straight to another closed door at the other end. 

Michael squints against the bright red light coming from a spotlight that had been haphazardly set up on the stone floor and walks down the hallway, his steps speeding up as he hears the janitor’s door above him open and close once more. His breath hitches a little as he opens the second door and quickly steps inside, like ripping off a band-aid. 

He freezes once more when a strong hand latches onto his shoulder and quickly jerks him further into the room, making him yelp as he stumbles, trying to keep pace with whoever the hell is leading him. 

“What the –”

Before he has time to so much as blink, his back thuds against a brick wall and finally he looks up, the vicious scowl he’d prepared morphing into a look of disturbed confusion as he eyes a row of other students, about fifteen and all men from the looks of it, dawned with black –

Oh, Christ, are those ski masks? He thinks as he eyes them up and down, How fucking banal… at least it’s not hooded cloaks. He nearly rolls his eyes as he scans the rest of the room, taking in the dim lighting interspersed with blues and greens from more of those stupid party boy spotlights. Glancing to the side, he sees another boy in his year, some guy he only knew from a few classes and passing glances in the hallways, but even still he’s comforted to not be alone down here, no matter how cliché this whole affair seemed. 

His blue eyes snap forward as the door, the only door, to the room is opened once more and some other poor sap is hastily dragged across the room, only to be smacked on the wall to his left. Again, it’s just some other boy Michael knows from classes, though he doesn’t know why he expects any different – it’s not as if he knows many people outside of the forced proximity of a lecture hall. Which was really his only reason for putting up with this bother, for seeking it out in the first place; a quick flash of him placing a tightly folded up sticky note with his name and pigeonhole number in an old, beaten up copy of King Lear in the library played in his mind – the price he seemed to pay for loneliness. 

Distantly, the bells of the chapel began to chime, signaling the hour. Once, twice, and eventually twelve times – midnight. Time to start the show, Michael surmises. 

“Welcome, initiates,” one of the hooded men says in a tone that makes Michael glare judgmentally, his voice pitched down like some idiotic knock-off Darth Vader. He steps forward from the row they stand in and holds his arms out open at his sides, “Consider this your first foray into the Bullingdon Club.”

Again, he has to bite the inside of his cheek to hold in a scoff. This was all just so… juvenile? He was beginning to sincerely doubt that this was the über clandestine club that granted its members all sorts of connections to various businesses, societies, and insider information that even the richest of the rich couldn’t buy. 

Unfortunately, his face seemed to betray more of his emotions than he intended and the masked boy steps forward once more, his dark eyes zeroing in on Michael. 

“You,” he says gruffly, pointing a finger in his direction, “Something you wanna say, initiate?”

Out of habit, he pushed his glasses up on his nose before he spoke, perhaps foolishly bold given the situation. 

“Doesn’t this all seem a bit much for three people?” He scoffs, shaking his head slightly, “I mean, masks, really?”

The hooded boy stops for a second and studies Michael closely, one hand on his hip, “What’s wrong with the masks?”

“Well, what’s the point? There’s, what, fifteen or sixteen of you? And three of us?” He asks, glancing around the room, which he now realized very clearly used to be some run-of-the-mill storage room, probably forgotten about by now.

The boy laughs sarcastically and shrugs his shoulders a bit, his voice back to its natural pitch, “It wouldn’t really be a secret thing if we just invited half the student body, mate.”

Michael supposes his reasoning is sound and says as much with a little hum and nod of his head, eyebrows raising dismissively. 

“Anything else?” The masked boy asks, crossing his arms over his chest.

“The masks don’t really disguise you lot that well,” he observes, pointing at one of the other boys standing in the row, “That’s Harry from Multivariable Calculus.”

“Shit…” Harry mutters under his breath, the sound carrying through the concrete room. A few of the other boys in the row lean over and place comforting hands on his shoulders and murmur words of encouragement, much to Michael’s dismay.

“Why’re you here, initiate?” The lead boy asks, turning back to Michael.

“Dunno,” he shrugs again, pushing his glasses up his nose, “Friends, I guess.”

A couple of the boys in the row make little noises, mutters of empathy that make the blond’s eyebrows furrow together in confusion as he glances up and down the line. 

“And this was your first thought? A secret society?” Harry from Multivariable Calculus asks with a little laugh, “Not like… chess or something?” 

“Don’t really like chess…” Michael says with a little shrug. Apparently a good enough answer for Harry, who makes a little noise of understanding and nods his head. 

After another moment, the lead boy clears his throat, which shuts up the rest. “Anyway,” he says, his voice falsely low once more. “Each of you will be given a task…,” his dark eyes glance between Michael and the other two boys as he paces in front of them, “Perfectly customized to challenge you, to push you to your absolute limits.” 

The masked boy pauses his little speech and gestures back to three of the other boys standing in the row behind him who then step forward and walk over to the dank brick wall that Michael and the other two boys stand against. He studies the boy that walks towards him carefully, his eyes narrowing in suspicion when he notices how much shorter he appears to be.

Finally, the boy comes to stand before him and presents a plain white envelope, though Michael’s lips spread into a hateful smirk when he sees an all too familiar pair of old, beat up trainers on the boy’s feet. 

“Oliver?!” He hisses meanly, shock lacing his voice as he jerks back the hand he had reached out for the envelope, wincing as his elbow collides with the cool wall behind him. He glances around the room, noting the few pairs of eyes that were on him, before fixing his gaze on the boy before him once more with a harsh glare, “You’re in Bullingdon?”

The boy in front of him hesitates for a second, cutting a sideways glance toward a taller boy that was busy presenting an envelope to the boy to Michael’s left, before he sighs and looks back at him, blue eyes peeking out of the holes in his ski mask. “Yeah,” he huffs, shrugging his shoulders defensively, “How’d you know it was me, then?”

“You look like a goddamn twelve year old!” Michael jeers, his voice low and vicious as his hands curl into fists at his sides, “How’d you manage to get into this club anyway?” He questions, seething, “They only let you in if you have the money or the marks and I know for a fucking fact you don’t have either.”

Oliver sighs again and rolls his eyes, which makes him see red and grit his teeth, although he doesn’t miss how the shorter boy’s eyes cut to the side again quickly. He opens his mouth, but before he can get a word in edgewise, the blond cuts him off with a little mocking laugh.

“Don’t tell me that’s fucking Catton,” Michael groans lowly with a shake of his head, breathing heavily as he feels the same sense of anger and betrayal he’d felt all those months ago well up in him once more, transporting him right back to the stupid damn pub, “You’ve got to be bloody kidding me, is this shite little club only full of cunts?”

“Look, I’m –” 

Oliver starts to speak again, only to be cut off when the head boy traipses over to where they are, coming to stand ominously behind him with his arms clasped behind his back. His dark eyes dart between the two boys before he speaks.

“Problem over here, lads?”

“No,” Oliver answers quickly, staring warily up at Michael as he practically shoves the envelope into his arms, “Just complete the task, initiate. You have thirty-six hours.” 

Before Michael can blink, Oliver turns his back and stalks back over to the other boys, taking his place in the row once more. The head boy looks Michael up and down appraisingly before nodding to the letter in his hands with a sly smirk.

“I can’t wait to see how you fare with that one, Gavey,” he says, his voice low and threatening, as if he’s in on the most delicious joke, “Remember, thirty-six hours, initiate.” He chuckles softly and departs, returning to stand in the center of the room. 

Everyone stands still for a moment, Michael and the other two boys to his left and right holding their respective envelopes nervously, unsure if they were supposed to open them now or not. Thankfully, the head boy clears his throat, commanding all eyes to him once again.

“Initiates,” he says slowly, his voice no doubt already hoarse from this little farce, “Failure to complete your tasks will result in a permanent ban from Bullingdon; no second chances. We expect results as well as proof of those results,” his dark eyes scan over the three boys once more, one corner of his mouth turned up into a mean smirk, “We’ll be seeing you back in this location Sunday at noon. Your thirty-six hours begin now… have fun.” He finishes with a taunting laugh before turning and exiting from the room, the old door creaking as he pulls it open before disappearing into the faint red glow of the hallway, followed by the rest of the fifteen boys in an orderly line.

As soon as the old door closes, the sound of paper tearing echoes around the dimly lit basement as Michael and the other two boys hastily tear open their envelopes. Pulling out a little slip of paper, his eyes go wide as a wave of dread washes over him. His eyes scan over the paper again and again as he nervously shoves his glasses back up his nose once more, silently willing the chicken-scratch words on the paper to somehow change, to give him some other command. 

His heart is pumping so loudly in his ears that he misses it when one of the other boys tries getting his attention, his head snapping up suddenly as a hand waves in front of it.

“Oi!”

“W-What?” 

“What did they give you?” The boy asks, nodding at the scrap of paper in Michael’s hand.

He clears his throat and tries his best to come off as casual, though he hardly cares with the way thoughts begin racing through his mind. “Oh, um,” he starts, glancing down to read over the paper once more, “I just uh, have to sleep with someone is all.”

The other two boys gape at him for a moment before groaning frustratedly. The one that had first spoken to him holds his paper out and smacks it disdainfully with the back of his hand.

“What the hell?” He asks gruffly, glancing between his paper and Michael, “Why’s yours so bloody easy?”

“For real,” sighs the second boy, rubbing the back of his head, “Ours are damn near impossible. They must already be decided on you to go so soft. How am I meant to steal the fucking Selden Map from Bodleian?” He laments, brows furrowed as he stares down at the paper in his hands.

“Yeah, and I have to transfer ten thousand pounds out of the chancellor’s bank account and into mine!” The first boy sighs, shaking his head, “At least your mum’s head of conservatorship here, you can at least get within a stone’s throw of the map. I have to commit fucking wire fraud!” 

The two boys grumble for another moment as Michael silently descends into a tailspin, his blue eyes unfocused as he stares at one of the dingy brick walls of the basement, trying desperately to formulate a plan, any plan. He merely glances up as the other to head for the door, spitballing ideas for each of their tasks.

“Isn’t your dad the president of Julius Baer? Can’t you just get him to pull strings?”

“Oh, yeah, fantastic idea! I’ll just ring him and ask the old man to commit a felony! What could possibly go wrong there?”

Michael tries to tune out their bickering as the three of them ascend the staircase and trail out into the hallway of Merton College Chapel once more; the two other boys don’t pay him any mind as they continue whispering amongst themselves, their voices trailing quietly down the hallway as he leans with his back against the cool metal of the janitor’s closet door. 

Sighing, he reads over the directive again, his blue eyes catching on the sharply scrawled letters of a very familiar name, one that makes his cheeks flush and his heart race. He swallows nervously, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat.

How could they know to do this? He wonders sheepishly. It’s not like he’d mentioned her to anyone; hell, he’d never even said so much as three words to her! No, his pathetic little crush was entirely in his mind. 

Too much of a coward to even say hi, he bemoans, trying to stave off the sense of shame he felt as he considered how many times he’d finished with her name on his lips, her pretty face and soft curves and sweet smell and little girly outfits whirling around his head since he’d spotted her on the first fucking day; he’d pined ever since and she didn’t even know he existed! How could she?

This is fucking impossible, he thinks miserably, wishing that he had any other task. He’d rather steal the Queen’s own goddamn family jewels than this. He glances at his watch once more and groans when he sees it’s almost already two in the morning; pushing himself up off the door, he hangs his head as he scurries back to his dorm room, thoughts spiraling as he plots. 

You

A laugh bubbles up past your lips as you sway your hips, your whole body vibrating as “Umbrella” blasts through the speakers while you dance with your friends, partying to celebrate the end of term. 

“You can run into my arms, it’s okay, don't be alarmed!” You sing happily, yours and your friends voices mingling together with another peal of laughter; you take another sip of your drink as you move along with the beat of the song, savoring the fizzy strawberry daiquiri as you begin to feel a bit warm from the little rush of alcohol, already on your third drink of the night. 

You smile proudly as you spot Felix in the crowd, his hazel eyes already fixed on you, or well, fixated on your chest. His attention makes you preen and you bite your lower lip, the sickly sweet taste of your cherry lip gloss filling your mouth as you purposefully bounce up and down on the balls of your feet. 

The thin straps of your pastel pink dress hold on for dear life as your chest heaves enticingly, and you giggle when you see those hazel eyes widen just a bit, no doubt tracing over the glittering chain of your necklace, following down to where it settles, a little sparkly pink diamond nestling temptingly at your cleavage. You teasingly wink, blushing a little when you get a wink back, and go back to dancing with your friends, knowing from experience that Felix preferred to approach rather than be approached. 

You dance with your friends for a few more moments, grinding up against any warm body you can find as a raunchier song begins pumping through the speakers, before you feel eyes on you yet again. Smiling at the attention, you glance around again, the low, colorful lighting of the pub making it hard to tell exactly which direction your admirer’s coming from. 

Your eyes flit over a few familiar faces, you can’t help but sigh in relief when you notice that Oliver’s eyes are thankfully planted firmly on someone that is not you, though a confused little crease forms between your brows when you realize that Felix’s aren’t either. Turning your head, you sway along to the music still as you look around quickly, your feet beginning to ache finally from the precious little satin Chanel heels buckled around your ankles. 

Your eyes finally lock onto an unexpected gaze, a fresh wash of pink coloring your cheeks as blue eyes glance shyly away from you. A little giggle titters past your lips as you lean over to one of your friends, patting her shoulder to get her attention.

“You know who that blond guy is? With the glasses?” You call over the music, nodding over in your admirer’s direction as he stands awkwardly back against the wall by the entrance, clutching a still-foamy pint. 

She glances over before turning back to you with a little shrug. “Michael something, I think!” She says, her breath warm as she leans in closer so you can hear her, “I thought Oliver knew him!”

Your eyes immediately find the brunette, predictably following Felix around like a lost little puppy, before you look back over at Michael. You can’t help but feel a bit bad when you see him quickly look away from your direction again before staring intently into his pint glass, one hand shoved in the pocket of his khaki pants. 

“I’m gonna take a breather for a second!” You yell over the loud music, leaning in close and cupping a hand over her ear. 

“Aw, babe, come on!” She pouts playfully, tilting her head at you, “Stay longer!”

You shake your head with another little laugh and gesture at your feet, “These are sooo cute but they’re killing me!” You laugh, finishing off the last sip of your drink, “I’ll be over by the notice board!” You tell her, blowing a kiss as you walk away from the dance floor of the small, cramped pub. 

Finally, you reach the little area by the front door and lean back against the wall, taking in a much-needed deep breath as you pull your little tube of lip gloss out of your bra and carefully reapply some more, smirking when you glance over out of the corner of your eye and see a certain blond boy already shyly eyeing you. 

Rubbing your lips together with a little pouty pop, you tuck your gloss back in your bra once more before slowly approaching Michael, prettily manicured hands clasped behind your back to help shamelessly push your chest out more. His wide eyed stare makes you giggle and blush as you study him, eyes flitting appreciatively up and down his lithe frame; so much potential hidden away under a little button down and khakis. 

“Haven’t seen you here before,” you tease, smirking when he blushes and all but chokes on his beer, coughing for a few seconds before finally speaking.

“I… Me?” He asks awkwardly, glancing around for seemingly anyone else you could be talking to.

Lucky for him, you find his awkwardness endearing. Truthfully, you had for months, never missing the way his eyes always happened upon you in a crowd. There was something impressive about the boy, something that had made your mind drift to him on more than one occasion, even if you were already under someone else. 

“Of course you, silly,” you laugh softly, leaning against the wall next to him and tilting your head curiously, “You’re Michael, right?”

His eyes go wide again and nods wordlessly before finding his voice. “Yeah, Michael,” he says with a reserved little smile, “Gavey! Michael Gavey…” He adds awkwardly, cheeks flushing even more when you giggle, seemingly charmed by his inability to string two words together. He nods as you introduce yourself.

“I know,” he says before blinking, eyes going wide behind his gold framed glasses as he awkwardly glances away, “I just… I mean I’ve heard your name before, that’s all.”

“That’s all, huh?” You echo with a flirty little giggle, twirling a lock of hair around your finger as you let the moment linger, just wanting to push him a little. “What’re you reading?” You ask curiously, cocking your head to the side a little.

“Maths,” he nods quickly before looking down into his pint glass once more as if fizzling beer is the most interesting thing in the world, “I don’t really like it all that much, though… I mostly only picked it because I’m good at it.”

“Ooh,” you coo softly, nodding along with his words as you watch him carefully, “You must be wicked smart, I can’t do maths to save my life.” You comment with a little giggle, biting your lip when he seems to perk up at that comment and looks up at you with a little grin. 

“I can do it in my head,” he says lowly, an unexpectedly cocky edge to his voice that has your heart picking up in your chest, “Ask me a sum,” he says, a challenging glimmer in his eyes. 

You hum softly, biting your lip as you think for a second, “Uhm, seventy-two plus a hundred and thirteen?”

“One eighty-five,” he chuckles after no more than a second before scoffing a little, “Come on, give me one that’s hard, love.”

Love? The little pet name makes you raise an eyebrow before you laugh softly. “What do you mean a hard one?” You giggle, shaking your head, “That one was hard!”

“That was hard for you?” He teases, making your cheeks tingle as a pink flush settles over your skin, “What’re you reading, then?”

“Art history!” You chirp proudly, chuckling nervously when you see him roll his eyes a bit, “What? Something wrong with that?”

He shakes his head dismissively, quickly polishing off the last of his pint before setting the empty class on a table and turning back to you, pushing his glasses up his nose with a grin, “Ask me another one, then. Biggest numbers you can think of.”

You don’t know why, but something about his little challenge has you blushing again, like he’s testing you somehow. But still, you take a moment to think of some numbers, biting your lip and quirking your eyes up toward the ceiling. 

“Six hundred thirty-two times… eight hundred ninety-one,” you hum, cocking your head to the side as you watch him closely. His eyes seem to glaze over, only for a second, before once again he’s spouting off numbers like a calculator. 

“Five hundred sixty-three thousand, one hundred and twelve.” 

Your eyebrows raise at that as you gawk at him. “Wow…,” you breathe after a moment, blinking as you stare up at him, “You’re, like, super smart, then?”

“Suppose so,” he says, smiling shyly again as he tucks both hands into the pockets of his khaki pants.

You study him for a moment as the conversation lulls, finding something endlessly fascinating about the boy; the way he could swing from being so cocky and self assured to shy and awkward makes your stomach do summersaults. Turning your head, you spot your group of friends still dancing and you look back at Michael with a little sigh as another upbeat song blasts loudly through the pub. 

“D’you wanna get out of here?” You ask, smirking when he looks up at you shyly.

“W-What?”

“My dorm’s only, like, a minute from here,” you flirt, sweet and enticing as you make him blush somehow more, “We could go somewhere more… quiet?”

He stares at you for a moment, shocked that you’re asking him of all people to come back to yours before he nods and nervously runs a hand through his wheat colored hair, unsuccessfully trying to act casual. “Yeah, yeah, I can do that.”

“Yay!” You giggle happily, flirtatiously grabbing one of his hands as you saunter past him, heading for the exit, “C’mon, it’s like a five minute walk!” He nods wordlessly and you can’t help but smirk as he follows you like a lost little puppy. 

True to your word, it’s only a few minutes later when you and Michael reach your dorm room, after you’d stopped for a minute at the entrance to your hall to chat with Farleigh, who seemed very interested in the nerdy boy following at your heels. You just couldn’t wipe the smirk off your face as you and Michael left him standing at the doors, mouth open and a wicked little gleam in his eyes; no doubt, he’d immediately scurried off to the King’s Arms. 

The door to your room opens with a tiny squeak, blasted old building, and you all but prance inside, turning back to the blond boy still lingering in the doorway with a smile. 

“Am I going to have to invite you in like a vampire?” You joke with a little laugh as you bend down to quickly undo the buckles of your heels, letting out a relieved sigh when you finally step out of them, leaving you in frilly white ankle socks.  

Michael finally steps into your room with a huffed laugh and quickly kicks off his shoes, you smirk when you see his Star Wars themed socks. “‘M no vampire, love,” he quips, gold framed eyes darting around your room as he looks over every detail. You grin at the little blush on his cheeks and perch on the edge of your bed to watch him, head tilted ever so slightly. 

“It’s, uh, it’s cute in here,” he observes, his voice a low hum as he takes in your frilly, lacy curtains, plush white rug, and equally girlish floral bedding, all encased in the faint pink glow of the heart-shaped fairy lights strung up around the room, “Just like how I imagined…” He breathes, so lowly you doubt he meant to say that bit aloud. 

“Like you imagined?” You echo with a little giggle, quickly reapplying your lip gloss before setting the little tube on the corner of your desk. 

“I just… I – It’s just very… you, is all I meant,” he stutters, running a hand through his hair awkwardly, the apples of his cheeks flushed a dark pink. 

His awkwardness is so endearing, you can’t help but grin. The more time you spend with him, the more interesting he seems to become; this bumbling, nervous boy is so different from the one you’ve seen on campus so many times. On campus, he’s comfortable, quiet still, but with a definite air of confidence – clearly in his element as he prowls through bookshelves in the library or explains some complex math formula in the quad. 

“So, you think about me often, then?” Your voice stays sweet, innocent almost, though you can’t help but tease him; he’s so pretty when he blushes. 

“No!” He answers quickly, whipping his head toward you from where he’d been studying the various pictures tacked up on the walls, everything from boy band posters to stills from Clueless and Legally Blonde. “I mean, yes, sometimes, I…,” he fumbles again and pushes his glasses up his sharp nose, “I think about you a normal amount.” He says finally, glancing at you quickly before looking away. 

You hum softly and stand before walking toward him with a kind smile, though you don’t miss the way he keeps glancing down at your cleavage, or the way his Adam’s apple bobs in his throat when he swallows nervously. 

“A normal amount?” 

“Mhm,” he nods, gaze unsure as you come to stand in front of him, teeth biting into your plush lower lip as you twirl a piece of hair through your fingers, “As much as I think of anyone else.”

“So…,” you breathe, drawing out the word as you reach up and fiddle with the collar of his button down shirt, the turquoise gingham a bright blue blip among all the blush tones of your room, “Every time I’ve caught you looking at my tits in the library or in the quad or in the hallways… that was just a normal amount?”

You giggle as his eyes go wide, his lips opening and closing like a fish out of water. Deciding to take mercy on him, you run a finger down his chest, playfully fiddling with the buttons on his shirt.

“Relax, I’m not mad,” you shake your head, smiling when the tension in his shoulders visibly eases, “Why wouldn’t I want a cutie like you staring?”

His lips part at that as he sucks in a little breath, blue eyes widening behind his glasses. “You think I’m… cute?” He asks breathlessly, heart pounding under your fingertip. 

Your teeth sink into your bottom lip once more as you nod, cocking your head to the side just slightly as you peer up at him. “‘Course I do, honey, what’s not to like?”

Again, he gawks at you, blinking in shock and swallowing nervously.

“I –” 

“I do have one question though…,” you tease, pouting a bit as you slowly and carefully undo the very top button on his shirt, relishing the way his breath hitches in his throat. 

“Y-Yeah?” His voice breaks, making you giggle while he blushes somehow deeper.

“Mhm,” you nod, undoing the second button and pausing when you find a splash of hair across his chest, the same shiny wheat color as the hair on his head, causing a familiar knot to begin twisting itself up in your belly, “Why were you at the end of term party?”

He blinks for a second, evidently taken off guard. “I… W-Was it invite only?”

His question nearly makes you snort and you shake your head, the corners of your lips twitching as you try not to laugh. “No, sweetie,” you peer up at him through your lashes as you rest your hand against his bare chest, smirking ever so slightly when he shivers, “I just meant, I haven’t seen you at parties before… doesn’t really seem like your kind of thing.” 

“I, well,” he stammers, the bottoms of his glasses fogging up from the heat radiating off his cheeks, “I just –”

“It’s for that club, yeah?” You ask finally, giggling at the shocked expression on his face.

“How do –”

“You lot are not nearly as sneaky as you think,” you laugh cheekily, bouncing excitedly on the balls of your feet, “Plus, I heard Felix and Oliver whispering about something to do with tasks a few weeks ago… and boys are very bad at keeping secrets once you get their cocks out.” You add with a little giggle, taking Michael’s hand once more and dragging him over to your plush bed. You sit him on the edge before all but climbing in his lap, smiling cheekily as you straddle his thighs, your knees digging into your soft bedding.

“So,” you start, holding onto his shoulders to balance yourself and smiling a little when he finally touches you, lightly resting his hands on your hips, “What’s your task, hm? I heard they made them, like, particularly brutal this year.”

“I don’t think I should say,” Michael murmurs with a little shake of his head, making you pout.

“Oh, come on!” You bounce on his lap a little, not missing the way his eyes seem to be drawn to your breasts like magnets, “I want to help! Is it something at the King’s Arms?”

“N-No, I really don’t think –”

“I know they keep the important rugby trophies there,” you think aloud, still playing dumb, just wanting him to say it, “Is that it? D’you have to steal one? One of the boys that works there owes me, I could get him to let you in after hours…” You prattle on, speaking faster and faster as Michael shakes his head beneath you.

Finally, he seems to reach a breaking point and his grip on your hips tightens. “I have to fuck you!” He blurts out before sighing.

“Oh, really?”

“I… I have to fuck you –”

“Mhm?”

“And prove I did somehow.”

“How interesting!”

He narrows his eyes at that and peers up at you suspiciously, studying you carefully. You can’t help but giggle, loving the way you feel when his eyes are on you, and you smirk when he finally blinks in realization.

“You… you knew this whole time, didn’t you?”

A sly smile spreads across your lips as you nod, squirming excitedly on his lap. “Like I said,” you chuckle with a little shrug, “Not. Sneaky!” You tease, punctuating each word with a little boop to the tip of his nose, unable to resist. 

He stays silent for a moment, gazing up at you with a strange mixture of awe and unease before he finally speaks through a deep sigh. “So, I suppose this is the part where you tell me to leave?”

Well, that comment throws you off. You cock your head to the side, confused, as your eyebrows furrow together. “Why would I ask you to leave?”

He sighs again and grits his teeth, looking dejectedly at the floor. “Come on, love,” he mutters, looking anywhere but you, “I-It’s not like you’d ever want to –”

“Ever want to what?” You ask with a frown, gently grabbing at his chin and tilting his head up, forcing him to meet your gaze, “You think I don’t wanna fuck you, honey?”

“Well, I –”

“Michael,” you say pointedly, raising your brows as you smirk slightly, staring deeply into his blue eyes, “I’m the one that came onto you, yeah?”

“I… I suppose.”

“Mhm,” you hum, nodding your head as you run your fingers through his short hair, not missing the little sigh that leaves his lips when you push yourself closer to him, your chest pressing tightly against his, “And while I’m not thrilled at our first time being for some stupid little task –”

“It’s,” he cuts you off shyly, shaking his head ever so slightly, “It’s – I’ve never…” He stammers, nervously gripping at your waist once more. 

You can’t help but smile softly, so charmed by him over and over. You nod your head knowingly, raising your brows just a bit. “I know, honey,” you whisper reassuringly, “We don’t have to, I’ll let you take a pair of my panties or whatever else, but we don’t need to do anything.”

He sighs up at you again, so taken with you he feels like he could scream, and shakes his head more, grabbing at your hips tighter, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear. “N-No, I… I want to,” he nods, swallowing anxiously, “I do, I just… don’t really know what I’m doing.”

You nod again, listening carefully as he speaks. “So, is it all new or…?”

He shakes his head and smiles a little, shyly, though the sight of it still makes that knot in your belly tighten further, making you blush on his lap while butterflies swirl around inside you. “I’ve kissed before,” he says lowly, chuckling awkwardly as he seems to get bolder, causing you to shudder when he lightly rubs his hands over your waist and hips, “And done… hand stuff.”

You giggle at his boyish explanation and bite your lip when you smile at him, wiggling in his lap as a heat begins to settle at the apex of your thighs. “Can I kiss you, honey?” 

His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat again, making you want so badly to press soft, glossy kisses to it, but you resist, determined to make this good for him. 

“Yeah,” he nods eagerly, blue eyes fixated on your lips.

You smile softly before leaning in and finally pressing your lips against his, both of you sighing at once. One of his hands stays at your hip while the other comes to rest in the small of your back, pressing you more tightly to him as your lips move together, his motions surprisingly fluid and practiced. 

You make a small noise in the back of your throat when you feel his tongue licking at your bottom lip, and eagerly allow him access with a little sigh. Your fingers busy themselves with unbuttoning the rest of his shirt, making him shudder beneath you when you skim your hands over his bare chest and stomach as his tongue flows with your own, the bitter, coffee-ish flavor of the pint he’d had earlier still on his tongue.

Impatient, you pull back long enough to look at him for reassurance, smiling when you earn a little nod. You kiss him once more before tugging his shirt off, flushing when he groans lowly as you trail kisses down over his jaw and neck before swiping your tongue greedily over his Adam’s apple, making his breath hitch. 

“F-Fuck,” he sighs brokenly, bolding tracing over your thigh until his fingers are tucked up under the silky, baby pink material of your dress. His touches make you shiver as goosebumps bloom over your skin, making you whine against the pale column of his throat, “Can I?” He breathes, fingers toying with a strap of your dress while the others slowly inched the bottom of it up higher and higher. 

“God, please,” you mewl, nodding against his throat, your head on his shoulder. He shudders at the feel of your breath on his neck and nods once before tugging at the bottom of your dress. You sit up to help him, whining when you feel his hard length pressing against your thin, lacy underwear, “You don’t need to ask, Michael. Want you to take me however you want.” You whisper as he tugs your dress over your head, blue eyes meeting yours for a second as he nods before they skim lower, widening as he takes you in on his lap wearing only a bra and panties. 

“Holy shit,” he breathes, making you giggle shyly as you lean in and softly kiss over his cheeks, “You have…you’re – you’re perfect,” he sighs, brazenly cupping your breasts, skimming his thumbs over your nipples through the thin pink fabric of your bra and smiling proudly when he feels them harden at his touch, “You’re perfect, but these are… holy shit.” He repeats, his voice breathy and mesmerized as he takes in your chest for another moment while you softly card your fingers through his golden hair. 

You gasp through a little giggle when you feel his length twitch, even through his trousers, and wiggle on his lap, blushing when the movement earns you a broken groan. “Yeah?” You whisper cheekily, watching as he marvels at your chest for a second longer before quickly unclasping your bra and shrugging out of it, tossing it down onto the floor with his shirt and your dress, “What about now?” You tease, proudly arching your back as you bite your lip.

He groans again, louder than he has all evening, and instantly ducks his head down. The feel of his soft lips wrapping eagerly around one of your nipples makes you cry out, gasping sharply as he sucks at the sensitive bud before he runs his tongue over it. You cradle the back of his head in your hands, fingers lightly pulling at the short strands of hair, as he switches from one breast to the other, kneading whichever one is free with his hand. 

Needing something, anything, you finally pull him off of your chest after a few moments, laughing when he all but whines, and smiling even more when you take in his disheveled appearance – blond hair sticking up at odd angles from where you’d run your fingers through it, cheeks flushed as his glasses sit crooked on his nose, and his blue eyes staring up at you hungrily. 

You shift back on his thighs just enough to snake a hand between the two of you and he gasps when you cup the bulge pressing against the zipper of his khakis. “You want me to suck your cock?” You ask cheekily, lightly squeezing at his length. 

He surprises you by shaking his head no,gulping slightly with an awkward laugh before answering. “I do, I really fucking do, love,” he breathes, kneading at your breasts as he stares up at you sheepishly, “B-But I really want to last and if you… if you suck it, I –”

“Okay, okay,” you stop him with a kiss, “We’ll table it for next time.” 

“N-Next time?” He questions, fighting to keep his eyes open as you press kisses against his neck once more. You nod against his shoulder and press kisses up to just beneath his ear. 

“I’m not letting you go that easy, honey,” you whisper, chuckling when he shivers. You spend another moment softly kissing and biting at his neck before speaking again, “Have you ever eaten anyone out?” You question, pulling back to look at him.

He shakes his head, his eyes flicking between both of yours as he looks up at you. “No.” He answers simply, his voice hardly a whisper. 

You can’t help but smirk coyly and cock your head to the side, running a finger through the little patch of hair on his chest just to see him shudder. “You wanna try it?”

He nods eagerly and surprises you once again by quickly swinging you around, maneuvering you until your head rests on the pillows of your bed. You squeal at the movement, laughing with him as he settles over you, his narrow hips slotting easily between your thighs as you silently marvel at his unexpected strength, the shock of it going right between your legs. 

“You want me to lick your pussy?” He asks lowly, grinning when he sees your eyes widen ever so slightly. 

“You’re quite something, huh?” You breathe, still gazing up at him in surprise. 

“Observant,” he shrugs, smirking as he sits up, kneeling between your legs, “You aren’t the only one who is, love.” He teases, quickly undoing his belt and trousers and groaning as he pushes them down his thighs, stopping at his knees. 

Your eyes go wide at the size of his length, it’s clearly very impressive and it’s not even out of his plaid boxers yet. That smirk stays plastered on his face as he leans back down to hover over you, hastily removing his glasses and sitting them on your desk before sloppily kissing you for a moment, surprising you yet again by trailing wet kisses down your neck. 

“Michael…” You sigh dreamily, arching your back toward him when he starts kissing over your chest. He groans from deep in his chest, mouth pressed against the fat of your breast. 

“Fucking hell,” he curses, teasing your nipple again with the tip of his tongue, “Say it again, love.” 

His simple command sends shivers down your spine and you mewl, squirming underneath him, “M-Michael!” You moan again, fumbling over your words as he sucks at your breast again before he lifts his head. 

“Good girl,” he purrs with a sly, easy smirk that makes your heart jump, a soft sigh tumbling past your lips. He shifts further down the bed, kissing down over your ribs and stomach, his confidence seemingly growing every time he presses his lips against your skin; the thought makes your head spin.

Finally, he hooks his fingers into the lacy sides of your panties, and his eyes peer up at you as he tugs them down over your hips before flinging them onto the floor. “Oh, my God…,” he sighs, staring greedily at your pussy, a broken groan sounds from his throat when you spread your legs more. 

You bite your lip and giggle, smiling shyly as you tangle your fingers in his hair once more. “Like what you see?” 

He nods his head rapidly, making you chuckle again as he stares up at you, an almost pained expression on his face. “I… uh, w-what now?” 

He’s so endearing, you can’t help the little sigh that leaves you and you sit up a little, leaning back on an elbow as you use your other hand to spread your center open. You bite your bottom lip once more when he whines a little, seeing you all spread out before him, flushed folds already slick and shiny. 

“Lick here, honey,” you whimper as you skim your fingers over your clit, so keyed up from only a few kisses that you gasp a little when you feel yourself clench; Michael looks like he may pass out. 

Ever the dutiful student, he gives you one last look before diving in. Your head falls back with a whiny gasp as his tongue snakes over your clit, just as you’d instructed. A long, shuddery moan leaves him, vibrating against your cunt and you watch as his blue eyes all but roll back in his head. 

“Just like that, Michael,” you praise, tugging at his hair ever so slightly, which only serves to make him moan more. Your chest heaves as you watch him, determined not to let your eyes squeeze shut while he licks and kisses and sucks at your pussy like a man possessed, “Holy shit!” You whimper loudly when he pushes his tongue into you, groaning lowly when he feels your walls clench around it as he presses his nose perfectly against your clit. 

“You taste so good,” he gasps, wrapping his hands around your thighs to keep you exactly where he wants. He peers up at you through blond lashes as he feasts on you, sucking eagerly at your clit and savoring the way you shiver and squirm from his motions. 

Unbelievably, you already feel that warm, familiar tug in your belly beginning to grow, making your whole body feel flush and taut. “Just like that, just like that,” you whine urgently, grabbing onto his hair tighter and guiding his mouth exactly where you need it, your eyes finally rolling back and fluttering shut, “Holy fuck, don’t stop!” 

Michael grunts as you tug at his hair, his own hips rutting greedily against your pretty bedding — cock throbbing so hard there’s no doubt he’s leaked through his boxers. He watches you carefully, studying your movements and reactions as best he can while he rhythmically licks at your clit. 

“Oh, shit!” You cry not even a moment later, your whole body seeming to stutter as your muscles finally relax. You mewl as your high finally washes over you, savoring the way Michael groans into your cunt as he feels it contracting on his tongue. Your eyes stay squeezed shut as shivers roll up and down your spine, shuddered cries leaving your lips. 

Just as his touches begin to border on overstimulation, you have enough wherewithal to push him away, and he releases your center with a lewd little pop. 

“Was that good?” He asks through a breathless laugh, swallowing as he looks up at you, evidence of your arousal still shining on his lips and chin. 

“Good?” You huff, eyebrows raised as you gaze down at him, “You’re sure you’ve never done that before?” You question in disbelief, chest still heaving. 

He smiles shyly, already pink cheeks seeming to flush deeper from your praise as he chuckles. You cup his cheeks when he leans over you again, whimpering as you taste yourself on his tongue. 

“You’re unbelievable.” You sign as he kisses down your neck again, making him chuckle against your skin. 

“Just observant,” he grunts, shuddering when you wrap your legs around his trim waist. You gasp as his length brushes over your still sensitive pussy, impossibly hot and hard even through the thin fabric of his boxers. His fragmented sigh makes you smile and you tug his head up, blushing as you look up at him. 

“You ready, honey?” You breathe, giggling when he nods his head again eagerly, his hips stuttering instinctually against your center. “Here, let me…” You trail off, the two of you separating for a moment as you lean over and pull open the top drawer of your desk, pulling out a pack of condoms and tearing one off before laying back down. 

You watch enraptured as he kneels between your legs again, pulling down his boxers finally. “Holy…” you gasp when his cock finally bobs free, twitching up to rut against his lower stomach; he’s long and thick, curving a little as veins run up the underside, leading to a flushed, leaking head. He smiles shyly again at your attention as he shuffles awkwardly out of his trousers and underwear, kicking them off and onto the floor.

You hand him the condom and watch as he rolls it on, giving him a little reassuring smile as he does. Once it’s securely in place, you pull him back to you, eagerly kissing him once more and wrapping your legs securely around his waist. Both of you moan in unison when his length glides through your folds, the head catching perfectly on your clit. 

He pulls away with a little gasp, hovering over you as he glances down at your hips. “S-So, I just…” He trails off, watching as you reach down with one hand, grunting softly when you wrap your hand around his cock. 

Carefully, you position him at your entrance and angle your hips a little. “Go on, honey,” you encourage with a soft smile, running your other hand over his chest. 

Nodding once, he presses forward and swears he sees God. “F-Fucking hell,” he groans, loudly sighing your name as he carefully guides himself into you, absolutely in awe at the way your hot cunt grips him. His eyes squeeze shut, his hips resting firmly against yours as his chest heaves, breaths coming in short, sharp pants. 

You aren’t fairing much better, head spinning at the way he splits you open, pressing incessantly at each and every sensitive spot within you. You pant against his neck as he stills, pressed deeply within you. 

“D-Do… fuck, do I just…?” Michael stutters, giving half-hearted little thrusts to test the waters. 

“Yes!” You answer instantly, anxiously nodding up at him as your hips wiggle against the bedsheets, making him swear and shudder above you, “Just move, honey, do what feels good.” 

He groans again and gives a little nod before experimentally moving his hips again, pulling out more this time before pushing back in. “Shit,” he breathes above you, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he grunts with each roll of his hips. 

You pant underneath him, spurring him on by pressing your feet against his backside, urging him to move faster and faster as the frilly lace from your socks tickles his pale skin. “You’re doing so, so good, oh, my God,” you breathe, your voice high-pitched and whimpery as you tangle your fingers in his hair again, knowing by now that it drives him crazy. 

Above you, Michael’s hips slowly but surely begin to stutter, his thrusts starting to peter out as his breathing picks up. “I’m —!”

“Wait!” You blurt suddenly, smiling wickedly as he comes to a screeching halt, pushing himself up enough to stare down at you with wild eyes, “I have an idea…” You tease with a little giggle. 

“W-What?” 

“You have a phone, yeah?” 

“…Yeah?”

“One that can, like, take video?” 

“Yes?” 

“Grab it,” you laugh, pushing him off of you with a laugh. He rolls his eyes with a smirk but does as you ask, clumsily pulling himself from your heat before stumbling over to where his khakis had landed. He shuffles about for a second before pulling a silver phone from the pocket of his trousers. 

“Now what?” He asks curiously, positioning himself back between your thighs, cock twitching meanly. 

“Film me.” 

“What?!” He gapes at you, brows creased. 

“Film me, honey,” you giggle, biting your lip conspiratorially, “For your little task, you need proof, yeah?” 

“Well, yeah, b-but I can just take your panties or something, I don’t —“

“Or you could bring back something better…” You smirk, shrugging your shoulders playfully, “We don’t have to but… it could be kinda hot?” 

He pauses for a moment, eyes flicking between you, your pussy, and the phone in his hand before he nods once, curtly. “We… we can try it.” 

“Yeah? You wanna?” 

“Yeah,” he quips, catching you by surprise as a mean little smirk spreads over his lips, “Wanna see the look on Catton’s face when he sees you creaming on my cock.” 

Your eyes widen and you huff out a shocked laugh, a zing of electricity lighting behind your eyes. “You’re insane,” you say softly, an endeared smile on your lips. 

He snickers, his whole demeanor seeming to change before your eyes as he transforms from this shy, stuttering boy into an astonishingly cocky man. “You like it, love,” he teases, grabbing his dick and positioning himself at your entrance yet again. 

“Wait!” You giggle again, blushing as he groans. 

“You don’t want to anymore?” 

“No, no, not that,” you assure him, affectionately running your hand down one of his shockingly muscular arms, “You can film me… on one condition.” 

“‘N what would that be?” 

“Take me on a date.” You breathe, suddenly shy. You know he’ll agree to it, but even still, your heart pumps wildly in your chest. 

He stares at you for a second, blinking dumbly as he processes your request. “You want me to take you on a date?” He asks, flushing so deeply that the soft pink hue cascades all the way down to his chest. 

Giggling, you nod your head, giving his forearm a reassuring squeeze. “You need to start giving yourself more credit, honey.” 

He sighs at that, a little astounded huff, before he’s suddenly grabbing at your calves and pushing your legs up toward your shoulders, all but bending you in half, anxious to get his cock back into you. You gasp at the movement, and chuckle at his eagerness, a sound that morphs into a whiny moan when he slides back home. 

“Christ,” he grunts, shoulders heaving as he gets used to the way you feel around him once more, “Y-You feel so good, love, fucking perfect.” 

“You’re so big,” you whine, nodding as you look at him like he hung the stars in the sky, “You’re so good, Michael, you have no idea.” 

He groans above you, hands shaking as he grabs for his phone, flipping it open and quickly opening the camera as his hips rut into you, making the springs of your bed creak softly. 

As soon as Michael gives you a little nod to let you know he’s filming, you truly put on a show — or well, you at least stop trying to quiet yourself down and be conscientious of the people in the rooms next to you. The way he has your legs bent back makes him feel somehow bigger and causes his cock to hit that sensitive spot within you with pinpoint accuracy every time he thrusts in, making you clench around him and moan loudly each time he moves his hips against you. 

You watch as he angles the camera down a bit, no doubt pointing it at the spot the two of you are joined together, letting the camera record his cock sliding in and out of you. When he moves it back up, however, to get your face as evidence, you plaster on the cheekiest grin you can muster. 

“H-Hi boys,” you tease breathlessly, smirking as you lean up on one elbow. You wave with your other hand before blowing a kiss to the camera, which makes Michael cockily laugh.

“Fuck, I gotta…” he mutters after a few more seconds, carelessly dropping his phone down on the bed before roughly grabbing at your thighs with a bruising grip, one that makes you mewl and arch your back toward him. The two of you moan and whimper in unison as he begins thrusting wildly, seemingly too worked up to care about anything but cumming. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” You chant over and over, head spinning as he bullies your sweet spot. 

“That’s it, love,” Michael murmurs, his voice gruff and low as he stares down at you, strands of his hair sticking to his forehead; he looks wilder than you’ve ever seen him, the thought only serving to push you closer and closer to the edge. “S-Shit, that’s it. Fucking come for me, cream on my cock; please, please, please,” he murmurs, leaning down to press desperate kisses against your neck and collarbones. 

The new position causes his pubic bone to rub deliciously over your clit, making you seize beneath him with a loud whine. Your toes curl, heels still pressing into the small of his back. “M-Michael, holy fuck!” You practically squeal as your high finally washes over you once more, stars dancing behind your eyelids as you go lax and pliant underneath him. 

The feel of your walls pulsing around his cock has Michael reeling, his hips somehow thrusting even faster as he both desperately wants to cum while also never wanting this feeling to end. “C-Cum, honey, cum,” you pant softly, cupping his cheek with one hand and turning his face toward yours. 

That does him in and the rubber band in his belly viciously snaps, making him shudder above you as his thrusts come to a halt, cock twitching wildly inside you as he empties himself into the condom. You watch him in awe, taking in every detail from the way his nose scrunches up as his eyes squeeze close to the way he whispers your name over and over like a prayer. 

The two of you lay in silence for a moment, his breath warm against your neck as he slumps against you trying to catch his breath. 

Eventually, you can’t help it anymore and let out a breathless giggle, which only intensifies when he props himself up on an elbow to peer down at you with a smirk. 

“Something funny?” 

“Just,” you breathe, trying to calm yourself enough to get words out, “Just… wow,” you finally say, giggles petering out as you look up at him, the soft gleam in his eyes makes your heart clench in your chest. 

“Good wow?” He blushes, looking down between the two of you as he pulls himself from your walls with a little hiss. 

“Very, very good wow,” you confirm, grinning as you watch him pull off the condom before he peers up at you with a sheepish grin. “Tie it off, honey,” you instruct, smirking as he does just that, before nodding to the little wastebasket by your desk. 

He gets up with a groan and quickly tosses the condom in the trash before turning back to you, the bashful look on his face making you blush. 

Unable to resist, you grin at him and spread your arms with a giggle, wordlessly inviting him for a cuddle, which he gladly accepts. The bed creaks slightly as he lays back down, relaxing his head on the pillow just beside yours. Again, the two of you stay silent for a moment, content to merely gaze at one another, before he shyly looks away and sighs. 

“I…,” he starts, blue eyes blinking and flitting around your room as he gathers his thoughts, “Thank you,” he finally says, looking back at you with a little half smile. 

Your brows furrow at this as you grin at him. “What’re you thanking me for?” 

“Well, f-for… this,” he says, gesturing vaguely at the two of you before sitting up just slightly and fishing around in the blankets for a second. “And this,” he sighs, holding his phone up before twisting around to set it on the corner of your desk, turning back to you. “I just… I know you didn’t have to, is all, so…” 

You cock your head to the side as you prop yourself up on an elbow, eyes narrowing as you study him closely. “And people have the nerve to say I’m thick,” you joke, lips spreading into a wide grin as you gaze down at him, “I wanted to do all this, Michael. I’m the one that came onto you, remember?” 

“W-Well, yeah, but —“

“No buts!” You laugh, pressing a finger against his lips as you shake your head, “I have eyes too, you know.” 

“What does that mean?” 

“You haven’t been the only one watching someone for months,” you giggle shyly, pressing your forehead against his, “I meant what I said about that date, too.” 

His arms wind around your waist, holding you tight as he processes your words with a dumbstruck smile, blushing under your gaze. “Whatever you say, love,” he concedes finally, pressing his lips against yours sweetly. 

He yawns tiredly when he pulls away from you after a moment, which only makes you yawn as well, and you glance over at the little clock on your dresser. “Christ,” you gasp, turning back to him, “I didn’t realize it’s already almost four… you can crash here, if you want?” 

He considers it for a moment, knowing he has to be back in that stupid little basement by noon and making a mental map of where exactly your dormitory is in relation to the Merton College Chapel. “I… I can stay, yeah,” he finally nods after a moment. 

“You’re sure?” 

“Love, I’m not sure my legs work well enough yet to walk out of here anyway.” 

Michael

Groaning, Michael slowly blinks his eyes open, rubbing them softly as he sits up in bed with a yawn. Blindly reaching over for his glasses, he’s confused when he doesn’t feel them in their usual spot and finally opens his eyes properly. 

He stares, confused for a moment as to how exactly he somehow got transported into what appears to be Barbie’s damn dream house, before the events of last night come flooding back to him. 

“Holy shit,” he breathes when he turns his head and sees your still-sleeping form beneath your flowery sheets, your hair tousled wildly on the pillow as your shoulders rise and fall evenly still with each breath. Looking around, he finally spots his glasses and puts them on before reaching for his phone, and cursing again when he sees the time. 

11:47 AM. 

He practically falls out of your bed as he tries to extricate himself from the sheets, and he hears you wake with a start behind him as he grabs wildly at his clothes on the floor. 

“Michael?” You ask questioningly, your voice still hoarse from sleep as you, frankly fucking adorably, rub at your eyes before fixing him with a curious look. 

“Gotta, shit, gotta run,” he explains quickly, cursing as he nearly loses his balance trying to tug his trousers on, “Need to be at Merton Chapel in, like, Christ, ten minutes!” 

“Ohh,” you giggle softly, watching with amusement as he finishes getting dressed, hair and clothes so disheveled that he’s sure he looks like the very definition of the walk of shame. 

Just as he’s tugging his shoes on and making a mad dash for the door, you stop him. “Here,” you smirk, holding out the same lacy pair of pink panties you wore last night, “For proof,” you explain, nodding to the phone in his hand, “Along with that. Should be more than enough,” you giggle proudly. 

He smiled sheepishly as he pockets your underwear. “T-Thanks,” he nods, turning to leave before you stop him once more. 

He can’t help but blush when you lean in and press and quick kiss to his lips, your cherry chapstick rubbing off on him some. Pulling away, you playfully smack his chest with a little grin. “Go get ‘em, honey.” 

Nodding, he smiles again before finally pulling your door open and bounding down the hallway. “I’ll text you, love!” He calls, peering back just before he rounds a corner, “About that date!” 

It’s 11:58 on the dot when he flings the basement door open, only to be pulled over to the same stupid dank basement wall, his back hitting it once more with a dull thud. 

Glancing around, he sees the ski-masked boys again, all fifteen of them, standing in a row with the head boy slightly out of line. To his left stands one of the other initiates, clutching a black tube of some sort. 

The basement stays silent for a moment before one of the masked boy’s watch alarms goes off just as the bells in the tower begin to chime. 

Once, twice, all the way up to twelve. Noon.

Right on cue, the head boy steps forward even more and looks between Michael and the other initiate. “Your friend couldn’t be bothered to show his face, then?” He asks, dark eyes peering at the boy next to Michael. 

He scoffs and shakes his head, glaring at the head boy. “He’s still at the bank!” He snaps, “All the way in bloody Switzerland,” he kicks at the dirty stone floor as he explains, “Dickhead,” he finally mutters lowly under his breath. 

“Shame,” the head boy quips, clasping his hands in front of his waist, “Some men are simply not cut out for Bullingdon.” 

The boys in the row behind him nod knowingly, each making some little noise of affirmation until the head boy quickly stops them, holding a fist up by his head, bringing it back down to his side when they shut up. 

“So, initiates, what’ve you got?” 

The boy next to Michael steps forward first and hands the black tube to the head boy with a sigh. “There,” he says, gesturing to it, “There’s your bloody map. My mum could get sacked for that.” 

The head boy pops open one end of the tube, a document sleeve Michael now realizes, and gingerly extracts a rolled up piece of parchment from it, unrolling it just enough to confirm it's what they asked for. 

“Well done, initiate,” he nods, seemingly impressed as he flashes a smile at the boy, white teeth gleaming creepily through the slit in his ski mask. Carefully, he rolls the document up again before sliding it back in the tube, “Your commitment to Bullingdon will take you far. Welcome to the fray.” 

The boy stands still for a moment, eyeing the document tube with an almost regretful expression before curtly nodding and taking his place back against the wall. 

“And then there was one,” the head boy murmurs, dark faze fixed on Michael, “I seem to remember we gave you quite the… interesting task indeed, initiate. How did you manage?” 

Smiling damn near arrogantly, Michael all but skips up the head boy and proudly pulls your panties from his back pocket, letting them dangle from his index finger. “See for yourself.” 

The head boy grabs them by the edge and studies them for a moment, turning back to the row of boys behind him with a questioning glance. The boy Michael knows already to be that cunt, Oliver Quick, glances between him, the panties, and Michael, before cutting a sideways glance to a tall boy standing next to him. 

“These could be anyone’s,” the head boy says, turning back to Michael as he shakes his head, “You could’ve nicked them from your sister or something, we’ll need more than this, initiate.”

“Don’t even have a sister,” Michael quips, shrugging his shoulders with a little frown. 

“Okay, like, your cousin or something then –”

“Don’t have a female cousin,” he says with a shake of his head, “All boys.”

“The point still stands!” The head boy finally snaps, making Michael bite the inside of his cheek to hide a little laugh, though the corner of his lips still quirks up in a smirk, “You haven’t got any proof, do you? Is that why you’re stalling?”

Huffing a little laugh, Michael finally lets himself smirk meanly and steps closer to the head boy as he pulls his phone from his pocket, flips it open, and navigates to his video gallery. “Is this enough proof?” He teases, pressing play on the most recent video. 

The picture is small and grainy but there’s no doubt as to what’s happening as the sound of your pretty whimpers and moans echoes around the brick basement, along with the wet smack of Michael’s cock driving into you again and again. 

The head boy stares at the screen still as curiosity gets to a few of the boys in the row behind him and they all come crowd around Michael’s phone, eyes widening behind their ski masks and mouths falling open. 

The tallest one, the one Oliver keeps glancing at, lets out a long sigh as he peers down at the small screen and brings a hand up to his head as if he were going to run it through his hair before remembering the mask he has on. With him this close, Michael finally notices the little silver barbell stuck through his eyebrow and shivers as his lips curl up into a sadistic Cheshire cat smile, a tidal wave of savage pride crashing through his system. 

Finally, fucking finally, I get something he wants, he thinks as your breathy moans continue to pour from the speaker of his phone, tinny and muffled in some spots where he’d accidentally covered the microphone, but beautiful, beautiful and because of him.

After a moment, the video ends, the tiny phone screen reverting back to it’s little thumbnail as the head boy peers up at Michael, the rest of the club members taking their places back in line, though he can’t help but notice that Felix’s broad shoulders are slumped now and Oliver stands ever closer to him, like some kind of fucked up bodyguard. 

“I’ll be damned, initiate,” the head boy sighs with a shake of his head, “I really didn’t think you had it in you.”

He watches as Michael merely nods and pockets his phone again, holding it tightly in his fist even still. After a second, he smiles widely and claps a hand on his shoulder, shaking him slightly.

“Welcome to Bullingdon.”

Some time later, Michael finally exits the basement, a few of the club members, sans ski masks now, nodding goodbye to him as they disperse across campus, meeting adjourned. 

He wasn’t really sure what he’d been expecting from the initial meeting but it was mostly them prattling on about where exactly they had all their grubby little fingers, poked in seemingly every facet of society from Parliament to local newspapers. 

Braggy cunts, Michael thinks as he ambles outside, glancing up at the sky as he steps into the Mob Quad, surrounded by stony old buildings. 

Smiling to himself, he pulls out his phone and quickly finds your number in his contacts list, blushing when he sees you’ve taken the liberty of adding some girly heart emoticon next to it. He hardly has time to press it against his ear before you answer.

“Well?” You demand with that now familiar giggle, some unfamiliar pop song playing in the background.

“I’m in,” he confirms, nodding to himself as he slowly walks in the direction of his dormitory, “Thanks to you.” He smiles like an idiot when you laugh.

“Don’t sell yourself short, honey,” you tease, he can picture your bright, glossy smile in his head, “You earned that spot.”

Michael merely shakes his head with a happy little sigh. “So,” he starts, clearing his throat and pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, “About that date… I was thinking the King’s Arms? Tonight at six, if that works?”

“Oooh, tonight at six,” you repeat teasingly, an image flashing in his mind of you twirling your hair around a perfectly manicured finger, “Someone’s quite eager, hm?”

“Can you blame me?”

“Hmm, I suppose not,” you giggle, pausing for a second, “It’s a date then.”

“Fantastic,” Michael sighs, trying with every fiber of his being to sound casual and cool about the whole thing, even as his heart threatens to beat out of his chest. 

“See you tonight, Mr. Bullingdon,” you tease, making a little kissy sound into the phone before hanging up. 

Michael pauses for a moment, standing to the side on the pavement as he nods to himself. If it weren’t so fucking cheesy, he’d raise his fist in the air, victorious, à la Judd Nelson at the end of The Breakfast Club. 

Instead, he flips his phone back open and navigates back to your video. Sighing, he stares at the little thumbnail for a second before deleting it, pocketing his phone once more, and continuing back to his dormitory. 

He has the real thing now.

taggled lovelies: @helloworldiamnotarobot @drakonflames @marysucks-blog @watercolorskyy @valeskafics @iamaegontargaryenwife0 @aemshaircare @1997babyyyy @lovellies @little-moonbeam-666 @blackswxnn @wickedfrsgrl @echos-muses @imawhorecrux @avidreader73 @marvelescape @rae-11 @ms-morningstarr @chaotic-fangirl-blog @grsveeth0m @twglitching @hb8301 @delulumhaggy @burntliquorlips @fan-goddess @cl-0-vr @kittendoll05 @beautbuck @eponaartemisa @trshngyn @brettlovessuckingcocks @alerisc @moonriseoverkyoto @wolfdressedinlace @do-double-g @kennafild

(tags are based on your answers to my google form; if you were mistakenly tagged, please contact me & update your answers on the form! thank you!)

family: “why are you just sitting in ur room smiling at ur phone?”

me who’s been reading smut about fictional characters for the past 6 hours:

Can you write modern Jace being a blind king? Those glasses looks THICK. Maybe reader come to his dorm and see him with his glasses?

Request: Roommates college au where there’s a mixup with the dorms and they end up in the same dorm. Imagine rooming with Jace? He’d be so cute and maybe a little nerdy idk. She moves out but they become friends…and then more than friends

The second request has been sitting in my ask for a long time (sorry). I watched Insidious: The Red Door the other day and it gave me inspiration for it (I had planned to add smut in this one but it didn't end up fitting and my laptop didn't save a few of the scenes I had written so I had to rewrite them...not as good or cute as the first time)

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

When you arrived at your assigned dorm, there were already people there. One was a boy with curly hair, and the other a woman with white-blond hair. Their backs were all turned, so they didn’t see you come in with your suitcase. 

‘’No, Mom, you don't have to do that. I can do it myself,’’ he said, trying to stop her from unpacking a box. ‘’Classes don’t start until Monday.’’ 

‘’But I want to help you settle in,’’ she insisted, taking a lamp out of the box and setting it on the nightstand. ‘’My first boy is leaving for college. This is difficult for me, Jace. Let me at least help you with your bed. No one makes a bed better than a mother.’’  

Jace sighed in defeat and moved out of her way so she could make his bed. ‘’Okay. Thanks, Mom.’’ 

She grabbed sheets from another box and began making the bed. ‘’Where are your brothers and father? Taking the last boxes out of the car shouldn’t take so long. I hope they didn’t get lost on campus.’’

You watched them with jealousy, wishing your parents had dropped you off at college too. It was a rite of passage for freshman students. But you understood that your parents had jobs they could not take days off from. 

You stood there for a moment before clearing your throat to announce your presence. ‘’This is room 309?’’

Jace’s mom looked up first, giving you a kind smile. ‘’Oh, hello there. Yes, this is 309. Are you looking for someone?’’ 

‘’No. Eh, this is my dorm,’’ you said with a frown, holding your paper in your hand. ‘’It says 309.’’ 

Jace turned around, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. ‘’That’s impossible, there must be a mistake. This is a boys hall, and boys and girls aren’t supposed to room together. It’s nothing against you, I personally don’t see a problem rooming with a girl. It’s just…not permitted.’’

‘’I know. But it says here that this is my dorm.’’ 

‘’Let me see that paper, sweetheart.’’ The blond woman looked at your paper, her eyes reading the information slowly. ‘’Oh, no. You’re right. There must be a mistake on the college’s part.’’

‘’You should go to the housing office,’’ Jace suggested with the same kind smile as his mother. ‘’They’ll switch you to another hall.’’

You nodded. ‘’I’m gonna go and see if they can solve this issue. Can I leave my suitcase here?’’ 

‘’Of course.’’ 

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・° 

The line outside the housing office was crazy due to the hoard of students coming back, so you didn't get back to your dorm until well later in the evening. There were no voices coming from inside your dorm, meaning Jace's family must have left. 

You knocked before coming in, not wanting to walk in on something you should not be seeing. But Jace did not hear you, laying on his bed with a book and headphones on. You didn’t take him for a reader, nor a glasses wearer. 

‘’What did they say at housing?’’ he asked, taking down his headphones and shutting his book. 

You walked over to the empty bed and fell down on it, exhausted. ‘’They basically said sorry for the inconvenience and that I gotta sleep here tonight. But I’ll get a new room tomorrow, so it’s not a permanent thing.’’ 

Jace hummed. ‘’Do you need help settling for the night?’’ 

You shook your head, standing. ‘’No. I’m just gonna get my pillow and blanket, and change into pajamas. There’s no point unpacking when I move again tomorrow.’’ 

Your suitcase was heavy, so you lowered it on the floor and grabbed your pillow and blanket, then rummaged through your suitcase for your pajamas. As you held up your shorts and a tee shirt, you remembered that this was a boys' hall, meaning the bathrooms would be full of boys.

Jace seemed to read your mind. ‘’Eh, I can turn around so you can change,’’ he offered. ‘’I promise I’m not gonna look. I can even take off my glasses if you want, I’m blind as a mile without them.’’

You chuckled at his offer. What a gentleman, you noted. Making sure you feel comfortable during this inconvenience. ‘’That's okay. Just turning around is fine."

He nodded and turned his back to you, facing the wall. ‘’You’re in art school?’’ he asked, making conversation as you changed so it would be less awkward. ‘’I've seen your sketchbook and art supplies beside your suitcase. Not that I snooped through your things. I promise I didn’t.’’ 

‘’Yeah,’’ you replied, pulling your shirt over your head and unclasping your bra. It felt daunting to be topless in the same room as an almost-stranger, but you tried to not think too much about it. ‘’And you’re in...?'

''Political science,’’ he finished. ‘’My grandfather went to this university, so I’m following his footsteps. I’m also taking a side class in History for personal pleasure.’’

Political science was not what you expected him to say, but it made sense. With his glasses, he had the politician look — minus the sweats and tee shirt. 

What kind of weirdo takes a history class for fun? 

‘’I know what you’re thinking — history is boring. But I love learning about the past civilisations and how ancient monuments were built, it’s so fascinating. Like the Moai Statues, the Giza pyramids or the Colosseum of Rome.’’

‘’Have you ever visited one of them?’’ You slipped into your pajamas, and threw your dirty clothes on top of your suitcase. 

His lips curled into an excited grin. ‘’I have! Last year, my family and I went to Italy and my dad took me and my brother Luke to see the Colosseum. It was magnificent. I took pictures. Do you want to see?’’ 

‘’Sure.’’ 

You sat back on your bed and Jace turned back around, reaching to grab his ipad to show you the pictures he took. His passion for history could be heard as he talked about the Colosseum, telling you facts you had never heard of. Eventually, the pictures came to an end, and Jace accidentally swiped too far, showing you a picture of his brothers and him making faces in Italy. 

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・° 

You didn’t think so many people would be up early on a Saturday. The queue at the campus café was insane. All for a coffee and a bagel. 

As you walked across the quad, trying to get to the bookstore to get everything you needed for Monday, flyers were being shoved into your face, advertising for clubs, frat parties and sorority houses who were scouting for new members. You were not interested in any, but they were not taking no for answer.

A neon party? What year were they stuck into? 

You threw all the invitations in the trash.  

On your way back from the bookstore, you received an email from the housing office with your new dorm information. You could move in immediately, but needed to stop by for your new key. 

So that's what you did. 

You couldn’t wait to get to your new dorm and finally shower. 

‘’You’re already going?’’ Jace asked, coming in with a paper bag containing lunch from the café you went to this morning. 

You nodded, finishing zipping up your suitcase. ‘’I’m not going too far, though. I’m just a floor up, right above you, so if you jerk off or have a girl over, remember that I can hear all.’’

Jace’s cheeks turned a shade of pink, getting flustered.

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・° 

Although you had moved out, you found yourself standing outside your old dorm a few days later. 

‘’Howdy roomie,’’ you said when Jace opened. ‘’Let’s go out, I’m hungry.’’ 

Before he could say anything, you stepped in as if it was still your dorm and sat on the empty bed that used to be yours. They must not have found him a new roommate. On the desk, you noticed Jace’s laptop was opened along with his textbook. 

The brunet frowned, clearly confused by your presence. ‘’Eh, what are you doing here?’’ 

‘’Taking my roommate out for pizza?’’ you replied. You had not eaten since that granola bar at lunch and your stomach was screaming. 

‘’We’re not roommates anymore.’’ 

You rolled your eyes. It was a minor detail. ‘’I know, but you’re the person I’ve spent the most time with since getting here and I don’t feel like going out to eat alone. Please, Jace,’’ you said, pouting to put all chances on your side. 

He was taken back. This wasn’t a common occurrence for him. A girl knocking on his door and asking him out — platonically or not. 

His frown disappeared, and a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. ‘’Fine,’’ he sighed. ‘’I’ll put on my shoes.’’

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・° 

Getting pizza after class on Wednesday became a weekly rendez-vous. You sat at the same table, ordered the same toppings — pepperoni with extra cheese and red bell peppers —, and talked about anything but school. You made it an official rule on your fourth date when Jace spent the whole time biting his fingers and worrying about a paper that was due at the end of the week. 

Pizza dates were your special time to unwind and stop thinking of schoolwork.

As you both settled into your usual spot, hair slightly damp from the drizzle outside. Early autumn rain was the worst. The weather was too warm to carry around a jacket, but when you didn’t have one, rain would randomly start pouring. 

You took a second slice of pizza and glanced at Jace. ‘’I’m gonna need your help for a project for my art class.’’ 

His eyes widened slightly, and he quickly swallowed his bite of pizza. ‘’Nope!’’ 

You frowned at his immediate refusal. ‘’You don’t want to help me?’’ 

‘’No! That’s not that,’’ he assured. ‘’Didn’t we make a rule that we would not be speaking of school while eating pizza? You’re breaking your own rule,’’ he pointed out. 

You sighed dramatically, leaning back in the booth. ‘’I know… But Mrs. Rosenberg told us this afternoon that we needed a model for our proportion piece and I didn’t want to forget about it. All you have to do is sit and look pretty while I draw you.’’ 

Jace raised an eyebrow. ‘’Oh, so you think I’m pretty?’’ he teased, stuffing a huge bite of pizza in his mouth before you could swat his arm.

You rolled your eyes and took a bite of your own slice. ‘’So, will you be my model?’’

He thought about it, a slight pout on his lips. ‘’What’s in it for me?’’

‘’Extra time with your favorite roommate?’’ 

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・° 

‘’Is this okay? I have a red polo somewhere. Maybe it would look better?’’ Jace asked as you laid out your art material on the second, unused, desk. 

You shook your head, and started propping up your small easel. ‘’You’re perfect like this.’’ 

He nodded slowly, his cheeks flushing a bit as he settled into position by the desk lamp you had priorly angled. The silence between you was comfortable as you began tracing Jace's features on your canvas, and you took a moment to really look at him — his curly hair, the faint freckles across his aquiline nose, the highlight of his pouty lips, and the way his fingers fidgeted with the hem of his tee shirt.

He was nervous. You immediately picked on it when you came in with your canvas and art supplies. His demeanor was different than usual. 

‘’Can you move your head slightly to the left?’’

Jace complied, the dull yellow light of the lamp hitting exactly where you wanted it. Now, you could see all the angles and edges of his face. 

‘’Yes! That’s perfect!’’

You continued tracing the contrasts and outlines of your model's face, eyebrows knitted together in concentration. Jace found it cute, but he kept it to himself. 

The afternoon passed. You painted and mixed colors on your palette, lost in your creative bubble while Jace was trying his best to keep his posture...which was starting to ache. Sitting completely straight for hours was more difficult than he thought.

As you were working on his complexion, you stole glances at your ex-roommate, trying to get every detail on your canvas, and noticed him shifting slightly, uncomfortable. 

‘’You know,’’ you began, breaking the silence. ‘’You don’t have to stay completely still like a statue. Feel free to move a little or adjust. I'll tell you if it doesn't work for me.’’

Jace gave a small laugh, the sound light and nervous. ‘’I’m not really used to this… Playing the model.’’

‘’I think you're doing good. Just...a bit stiff.’’

You continued painting him until the sun began to set, then called for a much deserved snack break. Jace pulled out a pack of Oreos from the snack box in his closet and your eyes turned into hearts. They were your favorite. 

‘’You really know the way to a girl’s heart,’’ you said as you took a third cookie from the pack. 

Jace smiled at you, pleased to see you enjoying them. He took a fifth one and chewed slowly as crumbs fell on his shirt. Oreos were messy. ‘’My mom sent them to me in a care package last week. I need my sugar to stay focused when I stay up late doing schoolwork.’’ 

Your heart melted at the sweet attention from Jace’s mother.  

‘’How is the painting going?’’  

‘’It’s coming together nicely. But it won’t be finished tonight. Painting takes a while. Especially portraits,’’ you replied. ‘’I need to get every little detail right. From that one curl that’s almost poking you in the eye to the dust of freckles on your nose.’’ 

The brunet’s cheeks flushed a bit at your words. He was not sure what to do with the feeling bubbling up in his stomach. Was this a compliment? Gods, he sucked with girls. 

You stayed in Jace’s dorm until one of you began yawning and it was time to call it a night. He helped you put your painting supplies away and even offered to clean your brushes in the boys’ bathrooms. This guy was a true sweetheart. 

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°

The following afternoon, you approached Jace's dorm, your painting supplies tucked under your arm. A lot of students used their Sunday to do their laundry, so you hoped he was there. You should have texted him before coming.

You were about to knock, fist raised, when you paused at the door, hearing the faint sound of a facetime conversation coming from inside. 

‘’She’s not my girlfriend. Shut up, Luke,’’ Jace's voice came through, tinged with frustration.

You could imagine his cheeks heating up. 

‘’You go on dates all the time…and you said she was cute, and talented, and funny,'' Luke's voice, younger and teasing, said, recalling everything. 

You should feel ashamed for eavesdropping on a conversation about you, but you couldn’t help but smile to yourself, butterflies filling your stomach. Jace had talked to his brother about you? If Luke assumed you were his girlfriend, he must have talked about you more than once. 

‘’We’re just friends. I don’t have time for a girlfriend anyway. I have a lot of schoolwork,’’ Jace interrupted, his tone firm but slightly defensive.

‘’Nerd,’’ Luke snickered. 

You didn’t meet him on moving day, but you assumed he was the kind of brother who loved to tease his siblings. From what Jace had told you, he was quite the little troublemaker. 

A few doors down, a guy walked out of his dorm with a bag of dirty clothes and sweatpants low on his hips, and stared you down as you stood in the corridor. He was walking your way, so you took this as your cue to knock on Jace’s door. The sound echoed throughout the quiet corridor, louder than you intended.

‘’Ohh is that your girlfriend?’’ 

‘’No, it's...pizza delivery. Tell Mom I’ll call her tonight,’’ he added in a softer tone. 

You heard movement inside and soon Jace opened the door, greeting you with his usual bright smile. He had glasses and gray sweats on, meaning he had likely not left his dorm at all today. 

 ‘’Hey, you’re here! I was starting to think you made other plans…’’ Jace said, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. 

‘’Never,’’ you replied, walking past him and setting your things down like yesterday. ‘’Besides, I need to bring in my final piece Wednesday morning and I still have a lot left to paint. It would have been a poor choice to not come.’’ 

Behind you, Jace nodded. ‘’Eh, should I change into the shirt I had yesterday? Because I slept in and didn’t do laundry.’’ 

You shook your head. ‘’The color of your shirt does not matter. I’m still painting your pretty face.’’ 

Jace smiled and rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly; it was a nervous habit he had, you had discovered. ‘’I’ll go sit at my spot, then.’’ 

‘’Have you taken a peak while I was not there?’’ you asked as you placed the canvas and easel in front of your chair. 

You glanced over at him, half-expecting a guilty grin, but he shook his head, his dark curls bouncing slightly. ‘’No. I want to be surprised.’’ 

You finished setting your stuff up quietly. 

The sky was gray today, clouds hanging heavy as if threatening rain, so you were thankful for the artificial light you chose to use yesterday. Natural light is great, but frustrating as it changes with time and weather. 

When you began mixing colors and painting, you felt Jace’s shy gaze on you. His eyes would dart away when you almost caught him, pretending to be interested in something else, only to glance back at you a moment later. It was a silent game, one that made you smile every time you almost caught him.

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・° 

About an hour into your painting, rain started to fall heavily and the sky began to shake with thunder. It echoed loudly around the room, causing the lights to flash. 

You were used to rain and thunderstorms, so you didn't think this one was strong enough to cause a power outage, but after an especially loud crack of thunder, the whole dorm went dark. 

‘’I guess that’s our cue to stop for today,’’ you said with a small laugh, barely able to see your canvas in front of you. You sighed, slightly frustrated by the interruption, and put your brush down on the easel.

Jace moved to his window, seeing the pouring rain and an impressive lightning flashing in the distance. ''Looks like it's not going to let up anytime soon.'' He glanced at your face, but was blinded by the brightness of your phone’s light. 

You quickly apologized, laughing. ‘’I didn't mean to do that,’’ you promised.

He glared at you and went back to his bed, rubbing his eyes. ‘’It’s worse with my glasses. I can’t see.’’ 

You laughed harder, directing the light to the ceiling so no one would be blinded by it. ‘’Do you think the university has a generator?’’

‘’For the academic buildings, not the residences. It would take a massive one to provide power to the whole campus,’’ Jace explained, finally starting to get his vision back. ‘’We’re stuck in the dark until it gets back.’’ 

You sighed and abandoned your side to move and sit on Jace’s bed. You could have gone back to your dorm, but you would be sitting alone in the dark. He turned his head to look at you, noticing you sitting on the edge of his bed, and moved back to make more room for you. You smiled, a silent ‘thank you’.

Thankfully, it was only mid-November, so it was not that cold. But it will get cold eventually if the power goes out for too long…

After a few hours, the power was not back. And the room had gotten a little cold, so Jace offered you one of his hoodies. It was gray and felt like a blanket on you. And it smelled like him — woodsy and comforting. 

Through this long darkness and silence, you found yourself thinking about the conversation you heard when you came to his dorm. You figured it was heavily influenced by the hoodie enveloping you. 

‘’Jace?’’ 

He hummed, sitting in his corner against his pillows. 

The words vomited out before you could stop them. ‘’Why did you tell your brother that you didn’t have time for a girlfriend when you spend all your free time with me?’’ 

The brunet was taken aback by your question. He looked like a kid caught with his hand in a cookie jar. ‘’W-what?’’ he stammered, his cheeks flaming. ‘’How do you know—’’ 

‘’I heard you on the phone earlier. I didn't mean to listen, I just…did.’’

Jace cleared his throat and spoke quietly, his voice strained and embarrassed. ‘’You weren’t supposed to hear that...’’ He looked away from you, avoiding your gaze. ''What else have you heard?'' 

A lump of guilt knotted inside your stomach for putting him on the spot like this. ''Not much. A guy walked out of his dorm and was staring me down, so I knocked on your door to get away,'' you explained in truth. 

There was a moment of silence as Jace picked at his fingers. He was still embarrassed, but he needed to push it to the side and make something useful out of it. ‘’I told Luke I didn’t have time for a girlfriend because I don’t know how to have a girlfriend. I mean, I do know the principle. I just…don’t know how to talk to girls.’’

You smiled, finding his honesty adorable. ‘’You’re talking to me now,’’ you said with a hint of amusement hiding behind your words.

‘’And it’s exactly the problem. We’re just talking,’’ he muttered more to himself than to you. 

‘’Would you like us to do more than talking?’’ you asked flirtatiously, extending an invisible hand for Jace to grasp. 

Slowly, his gaze shifted back to you. ‘’It depends what you mean by more than talking…’’ 

There was another loud crack of thunder, echoing and shaking the walls. The loud noise made Jace jump slightly, nervous from the proximity between you. He tried to brush it off, but you grinned and inched closer to cup his face. 

''Tell me if you want me to stop.'' 

His eyes found yours and he gripped the blanket, needing something to grab to take his nerves off. ''I don't want you to stop.''

You leaned closer, your hand still on his cheek, and pressed your lips onto his. The touch of your lips sent a jolt of electricity up Jace's spine.  He gasped, having never felt so much from a simple kiss, and kissed you back without hesitation, his lips plush but chapped against yours. 

More lightning pierced the horizon outside the window, but you were too lost in each other's lips to notice. Jace's hand that was not grabbing the blanket came to rest on your hip to pull you a little closer. He was gentle and inexperienced, you could feel it in the way he was touching you. 

You pulled away to catch your breath, but a needy whine left his lips, grabbing your hip with more force and pulling you back in. He was not done kissing you.

When night came and the power finally returned, you didn’t go to your dorm. You borrowed one of Jace’s tee shirts and slid under the covers with him. You both had classes at 8am, so you simply laid together, Jace’s head on your chest while you gently rubbed his back and slowly fell asleep.

—

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credit.

THEY KNOW EACHOTHER?!

The First Time You Called Me Baby

summary | The beginning of the story between you and a certain silver-haired man.

pairing | modern aemond targaryen x girlfriend!reader (saltburn au)

tags | 18+, MINORS DNI! unprotected sex, blowjob, semi-public, pantyfuck, squirting, handjob, attempt at harassment, rough sex, Felix Catton’s nasty ass room

wordcount | 8.4k

note | this is the prequel to The First Taste, but can still be read as a standalone! this is set a little over a year from the events of that fic :) thank u for the love on that nasty little thing, and i hope u guys enjoy this one too!

song rec | The First Time - Hozier

likes, comments, reblogs are much appreciated! i am open for fic requests <3

(dividers by @thecutestgrotto)

You had first laid your eyes on him at the library. His silver hair was a stark contrast against the dark wood of the aisles filled with books. You were a first year at Oxford, and he was in his second. The simmering heat that still lingered at summer’s end licked at your skin, bringing about droplets of sweat down your back, despite the thin summer dress you were already sporting. He, however, was clad in a black henley, paired with dark jeans and sneakers, and looked utterly divine. It was unfair, really. 

The mysterious man was absorbed in his reading, scribbling on a notebook with every couple of lines that he read. You perused through the aisles in search of a book required for one of your classes, and as you passed his table, he lifted his head to look at you, no doubt feeling your eyes peeking down at what he was reading.

You immediately looked away, pretending as though you hadn’t just been caught. Your cheeks flushed hotter than they already were, and as you scampered away, you missed the way his good eye followed your retreating form, curiosity filling his good eye.

In the weeks that followed, you kept seeing him around Oxford, in the halls, at the pub where you learned he was good friends with Felix Catton, and again at the library. It turned out you shared a class, Philosophy with Professor Quinn, though you had always sat on either end of the lecture hall, paths never crossing. Your interactions were limited to swift eye contact whenever you were in the same vicinity, never speaking a word to each other.

One Tuesday, you were seated in the lecture hall of your class, organizing your notes when a shadow cast a dimness over you. You looked up to meet the eyes of your mystery man, who had silver hair tied back into a low ponytail, clad in yet another black shirt.

“Is this seat taken?” was the first thing he ever said to you. He pointed to the empty seat beside you, awaiting your response. It was already a good month into the semester, and at that point, everyone had their unofficially assigned seats in the hall. The guy who usually sat beside you hadn’t arrived yet, rendering his seat vacant.

“Uh, no, not really,” You responded, shaking your head lightly. You anxiously bit your lip as the object of your curiosity sat beside you, pulling out his notes. When he had settled, the silver-haired man leaned back into the seat, turning his head to you.

“I’m Aemond,” he said casually. Your ears perked up at his unique name. Only a certain group of people would have such a strange name as his. He was a Targaryen, you realized, descendants from some sort of royalty, and filthy fucking rich. You turn your head to him staring at you, expecting you to introduce yourself.

“Oh!” You blushed, before telling him your name. Aemond nodded, before extending out his hand to shake your hand. You place your hand in his, gripping it firmly to shake it.

Wow, his hand is big, you thought.

You were surprised when he asked you a few questions about yourself, initiating a light conversation between the pair of you. Based on what you had seen, he didn’t really talk much, often just listening to Felix Catton run his mouth whenever you spotted them together. He seemed interested in your major, what classes you were taking, and what you thought of Oxford so far. You indulged him as much as you could, asking some questions about him yourself. Your conversation was cut short when the professor walked in, starting the lecture. Soon after, the guy whose seat Aemond had taken walked in, complaining to the man beside you.

“There’s some more seats at the back, mate, you’ll be fine,” Aemond said nonchalantly, pointing a thumb to the back of the room. The student, Kyle, looked at you, but you only shrugged and gave him a sheepish smile. He scoffed, before walking away to find another seat. You silently thanked Aemond for taking his seat, because fucking Kyle was always sneezing without covering his nose and sprayed his snot everywhere like a child.

Over the next weeks, you and Aemond became friendly acquaintances. You helped each other with the work assigned for the class and had a few study sessions together in the library. He was incredibly nice to you, in contrast to the intimidating aura he naturally possessed. You would be lying if you said you weren’t attracted to him, because that man had a face sculpted by the gods. However, you paid these growing feelings no mind. You heard he was seeing Floris Baratheon, and you were talking to Mark, who was introduced to you by your best friend.

Mark was nice, sweet, and had a way with words that made you laugh with little effort. Talking to him felt easy and casual, but something was missing. He lacked the intrigue you felt with Aemond, and the enigmatic, alluring way the silver-haired man looked at you made you feel a tingle in your stomach in a way no one else could. Still, Mark was good fun, but you couldn’t see things going further, not when your mind was always stuck on a certain silver-haired man.

It was a Friday night, and you were at a party with some friends. You nursed a beer while you sat with them, engaged in conversation. The whole thing was quite casual, which you were thankful for because the last one you were at had gotten so chaotic that you narrowly avoided being puked on by someone in the middle of the dark room. 

You laughed when one of your friends’ started wildly waving her hands animatedly as she told her latest gossip, the alcohol in your systems made all of you warm and loose the more you drank. In the corner of your eye, you spot a familiar head of silver hair passing through the crowd of people. You turned your head to see Aemond, though he wasn’t alone. He was with none other than Floris Baratheon, who held his wrist as she guided him through the crowd to leave the party. You ignored the strange twinge in your chest at the sight, gaze following the pair. 

Sensing a pair of eyes on him, Aemond turned to meet yours. You gave him a friendly smile and a wave, to which he responded with a nod and a small smile. All of a sudden, he forgot why he was letting himself get dragged by Floris, but made no move to stop her. He watched as you tore your gaze away from him, directing your attention back to your friends. The sight of you giggling at whatever your friend said was the last glimpse got of you before Floris led him away from the party.

You were walking back to your room, alone, after having dropped off all of your friends at their dorms. Having been the least drunk out of the whole group, you had made sure they got back to their rooms safely, before heading back to your own. You also were in a separate building, so you quickly made your way back, trying to stay mindful of your surroundings. Much to your luck, a student had stumbled out of one of the buildings you passed on your way, clearly intoxicated.

“Hey, all alone?” He slurred, giving you a lopsided smile.

“No, someone’s waiting for me,” You lied, trying to walk faster when he blocked your path.

“Oh yeah? I don’t see anyone, pretty girl,” He snickered turning his head around where you had pointed into the darkness. “Why don’t you come up to mine, can’t be walking around all alone! ‘S dangerous, you know?”

You expressed your refusal at his offer, pushing past him but he had grabbed your arm to prevent you from walking away. You struggled to pull away from his grip, but he was much stronger than you. Your heart beat erratically in your chest, starting to panic when he started to drag you despite your efforts to plant your feet firmly into the ground.

“Do we have a problem here?” A voice spoke behind you. You whipped your head around to see Aemond, whose good eye was filled with anger at the sight. 

“Nah, mate, was just taking my girl back to my room,” The man chuckled casually, grip still unrelenting on your forearm. You subtly shook your head at Aemond, eyes silently pleading for him to not leave you alone. He studied your expression, before turning back to the drunk student.

“Yeah? Looks like she isn’t up for it, mate,” Aemond said, taking a step forward closer to you.

“Oh, fuck you, one-eye! Why don’t ya just leave us alone?” He spat at Aemond, his loud voice echoing through the night air. In a flash, Aemond’s fist sent the drunk man sprawling onto the pavement. You gasped in shock, stepping away. Relief flooded in your chest when you were finally freed from the tight grip on your arm. In his intoxicated state, the man could barely recover from the singular blow to his nose, moaning in pain as he lay on the ground.

Brushing a hand through his silver locks, Aemond walked back to you, the anger in his eye now replaced with concern. He called your name lowly, hand reaching to hold your elbow as you wrapped your arms around yourself.

“Hey, you alright? I’m sorry you had to see that,” he said softly, rubbing at your skin comfortingly. You nodded at him, chest still panting from the rush of adrenaline you felt. 

“Y-yeah, thank you, Aemond, really,” you thanked him, giving him a shaky smile.

“No need to thank me. Can I walk you back?” He offered, to which you gratefully accepted. You both started to walk back to your dorm in silence as you took the time to calm down. After a couple of moments of comfortable silence, your head turned to the Targaryen beside you, curiosity sparking in your chest.

“I thought you were, um– I saw you leave with Floris,” You stuttered, cringing inwardly at your awkward tone. Aemond only hummed at your words, grimacing as he stuffed his hands into his pockets.

“I did, but, I don’t know…I figured I was tired of whatever it was we were doing, so I just walked her back to her room and left. Then I found you,” He explained, looking back at you when he finished speaking. You couldn’t help the flutter in your stomach at the revelation.

“Oh,” was all you could say. You bit your lip as your face warmed when his gaze stayed on your face, turning your attention to your feet while you walked.

“How are things going with you and Mark?” Aemond suddenly asked, much to your surprise. He rubbed the back of his neck, waiting for your answer. You had told him a bit about Mark, but you hadn’t divulged how you actually felt about him. An awkward chuckle fell from your lips as you pondered on what to say.

“I think we’re just gonna stay friends,” you confessed shyly. Your eyes studied his reaction, but he only nodded, sniffling at the cold breeze that whipped his silver hair.

“Oh,” was all Aemond could say. 

You continued to walk in another comfortable silence until you reached your building. As Aemond walked you to the door, you turned around to look up at him. You could feel your pulse thrum in your ears, the tips of your ears growing flushed when his face had been much closer than expected. The icy blue of his good eye almost glimmered under the light illuminating the pavement, his prosthetic eye unmoving on the left side of his face.

“Thank you for walking me back, Aemond, and for… you know,” you said, implying how he practically saved your life earlier. “I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t been there.” Sincerity filled your tone, one that reached Aemond’s heart. He shook his head at you, thin lips lifting to a warm smile. 

“I told you there’s no need to thank me,” he said. The night breeze blew a loose strand of hair into your face, and Aemond’s fingers carefully lifted to tuck it back into your ear. Your cheeks warmed up at his gesture, your lips lifting into a flustered smile. 

“It’s dangerous to be walking alone at night. If you need someone to walk you home, I’ll always be there,” he told you, tone comforting. You nodded at his words, uttering another sign of thanks. 

You stared up at him, studying his face. Your eyes ran down the faint scar on his left cheek, curious as to how he acquired it. You couldn’t help but shift your gaze to his lips, the warm feeling in your belly returning as desire pulsed deep within you. You wondered how it would feel against yours, how his hands would wander on your skin after he pulled you close. 

Aemond caught the way your gaze fell to his lips, and with a surge of courage, he slowly dipped his head toward yours intending to capture your pink lips, soft and inviting. Your breath hitched when you realized his intentions, and before your lips could touch, you placed a hand on his chest, prompting him to pull away. You bit your lip guiltily, before leaning up to plant a soft kiss on his cheek.

“Good night, Aemond,” You whispered in his ear, before stepping away to turn around. You twisted the doorknob to the building open, stepping inside. You spared him one last glance, giving him a sweet smile, before shutting the door behind you.

As the door closed behind you, Aemond let out a heavy sigh, leaning his head back and closing his eye. His heart hammered heavily in his chest, his throat suddenly dry after being so close to you. He chuckled to himself as he walked away, turning back one last time to catch a light flicker on by a window on the second floor.

Your leg bounced as you fidgeted in your chair anxiously, eyes scanning the words on the book yet you barely understood what any of them meant. Beside you, Aemond scribbled down on his notes, lips moving as he mouthed the words he was reading silently. It was late, yet both of you were stuck poring over the material for your upcoming midterm. You had been in the library for hours, only taking breaks to get a breather and grab a snack. A big portion of your grade for the class depended on this exam, and you were wary of how you would do. 

It didn’t help that Aemond smelled so fucking good. His perfume was not overpowering at all, but rather clean and inviting, the kind that made you want to press your nose against his skin to smell it more. He looked unbelievably handsome when his eyebrows furrowed in concentration, or when he leaned back to stretch, letting out a groan that went straight to your core.

As your eyes trailed over the notes scattered across the table, your gaze fell on his exposed forearms. You could see the fibers of his muscular forearms as they flexed with every moment, while the veins ran down to his large hands. Your thoughts drifted to what they would look like around your neck, or on your tits, or how his fingers would tease your—

Fucking hell.

You let out a frustrated sigh, leaning back on your chair and rubbing a hand across your face. Aemond looked up at you in concern, putting down his pencil as he turned to you.

“You okay?” He asked. His good eye ran over your features, taking in the way the skin in between your eyebrows creased while a frown adorned your lips. You have dressed in one of your adorable little sundresses again, paired with a knit cardigan to keep you warm in the chilly library.

“Yeah, yeah, ‘m just tired,” you mumbled. Aemond hummed, leaning back against his chair as well.

“Why don’t we take a break? We’ve been at it for a while,” he suggested, to which you eagerly nodded. You stood up from your seat, arms lifting in the air as you stretched. Aemond’s eye trained on how your short dress lifted ever so slightly, only a couple inches away from flashing him your rear. The silver-haired man gulped, ignoring the way his cock twitched at the teasing sight, before rising from his chair. 

He followed you through the aisles as you walked around to stretch your legs. The library was practically empty, so it was safe to leave your stuff without worrying about it getting stolen. He watched your fingers trail over the spine of the books, stopping along with you when you paused to read some titles that interested you. You took the stairs up to the second floor, where there was not a single soul around. 

Your eyes wandered around the vast, historical space, admiring the old architecture. Oxford was much more beautiful at night, with the moonlight that shone over its stone walls, and the amber glow from the lights casted a warmth in the quiet room. You craned your head back to admire the intricate woodwork on the ceiling, pointing up a finger to show Aemond.

“Isn’t it so beautiful?” You said to him, looking back with a smile. He was looking at you with a strange look. His good eye was filled with something intense, something that threatened to wash over him. It made you feel warm all over, and goosebumps rose on your flesh as you took the sight of him in.

“Breathtaking,” he whispered, though his eye stayed on you. He gave you a fond smile, one that caused your heart to thump heavily against your ribcage. 

Since he took you home that night, the two of you had toyed with the line separating your friendship from becoming something more. The way he looked at you made you feel light as air, and his words caused your usually sure self to stutter in bashfulness. For weeks, you had felt as though you were on the verge of stumbling over, and the slightest touch would have you falling over the edge. You could only hope to be caught, and without any sign of that assurance, you willed yourself to keep your balance. 

But with how he was looking at you tonight, you realized you were already in the wind, freefalling to whatever awaited you. It couldn’t be helped, not with the way you searched for him in everyone you came across, for the sensation only he seemed to arouse from you.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” You asked, careful yet hopeful. The tension was palpable, you could feel it in your fingertips. You knew, even without him saying it, but you had to hear the words. When his eye was usually analytical and cold, it now seemed to resemble the vast ocean, with nothing but fondness swimming in its waters. 

“You know why,” he said softly. As he took steps towards you, you took steps back, up until you were pressed against the wooden shelf. His taller build caged you in, but it didn’t feel claustrophobic at all; it felt safe, comforting. 

“Aemond,” you breathed out, suddenly breathless. His hand caressed the side of your face, and the pad of his thumb pressed down on your bottom lip.

“So pretty,” he whispered. Aemond seemed hypnotized, by the way his skin grew warm and his chest panted when he stepped into your space. You tilted your head up at him with big eyes, but his eye were stuck on your lips. Your lips slightly parted when you let out a gasp, and his thumb moved up to dip into your mouth.

Aemond’s jaw dropped ever so slightly when your lips wrapped around his thumb. You hollowed out your cheeks to suck on his finger, running your tongue on its underside. A grunt reverberated from deep within his chest, his cock throbbing at the erotic sight. His free hand came up to your waist, its warmth exuding through the fabric that separated your flesh. 

You looked like a doe with shining eyes as you remained staring up at his face, the innocence in your orbs a sharp contrast to the erotic sight of your lips. As your spit gathered around his thumb you felt a similar wetness between your thighs. You subtly pressed them together in hopes of trying to soothe the pulsing ache from your cunt.

Aemond’s eye dropped from your lips to your legs when your knee accidentally knocked against his, catching you in the act. His mouth all but watered at the sight of you, coupled with the way your nipples poked through the thin fabric of your dress.

Pulling his thumb from your lips, Aemond’s lips surged forward to fill in its absence. Teeth knocking against each other, you let out a low whimper as he all but devoured your mouth. His kiss was hungry and all-consuming, turning you lightheaded. His hand pressed against the shelf behind you, fully caging you in. You wrapped your arms around his neck, fingertips running through the soft silver tresses that had captivated you since the first day you laid eyes upon him. Kissing turned into gnawing, and you gripped his starlit hair, opening your mouth further to welcome his tongue. You wrapped a leg around his waist, the ends of your dress lifting to allow his bulge to press flush against your damp center. 

You gasped into Aemond’s mouth when his straining cock rubbed against your clothed pearl deliciously. Your hips started to swirl against his, taking on a mind of its own. Breathless, you chased Aemond’s lips when he pulled away from you, earning a chuckle from him. He caressed the side of your head lovingly, before grabbing the end of your dress to lift the fabric.

Aemond cursed under his breath when the sight of your panties greeted him. There was a damp patch where your arousal started to stain the cotton, and the indent of your folds made for a mouthwatering sight. His fingers hooked to the side, pushing the fabric away to reveal your weeping cunt. Another whimper left your lips as the chill air blew on your exposed pussy, clenching around nothing. You gripped the fabric of Aemond’s shirt, silently urging him to touch you.

Two fingers swiped up your slit, arousal coating the pads of Aemond’s fingertips when he pulled it away. He brought it to his lips, letting out a low moan when he tasted your essence.

“Fucking delicious” he growled. His aquiline nose pressed against your cheek, taking in the sweet smell of your flesh.

“Please,” you pleaded weakly. His hand rubbed your waist comfortingly, before squeezing the soft flesh through the fabric.

“What do you want, hm?” He asked, placing a hand under your chin to make you look at him. You gulped, trying your hardest to keep your voice quiet. Despite the lack of people in the library, you knew you still had to be careful.

“Touch me, Aemond, please,” you begged, grabbing his wrist to place it back on your pussy. Aemond gave you a sweet kiss on your lips, before pushing his fingers past your fingers once more to feel your slick core.

You bit your lip hard to prevent moaning out loud when his middle finger dipped into your slit, teasing. Aemond smirked at the way your eyebrows furrowed at him, eyes desperately pleading with him. 

“You’re adorable, you know that?” He chuckled, before pressing a kiss on your forehead. He decided to forego his teasing, entering his whole finger into your cunt up to his knuckles. Your walls swallowed him up deliciously, and he wondered how you would be able to take his cock.

One thing at a time.

You dropped your head onto his shoulder when his finger curled upwards, caressing the rough spot within your walls. His finger thrust into you at a steady pace, soon adding another. Your walls felt full, fuller than when you would use your own fingers to pleasure yourself. You panted into Aemond’s neck, letting out small cries against his hot flesh as his finger bent in a ‘come hither’ motion. You gripped his shoulders to ground yourself, your hips moving in tandem with the rhythm of his fingers. 

“Aem– mm,” you moaned. 

“Keep making those sounds for me, yeah?” He whispered into your ear, running his lips against the shell of your ear. You let out another whine, before running one of your hands from his shoulder down to cup his clothed cock. 

Aemond’s breath hitched in his throat when you squeezed his bulge lightly. Your shaky hands unbuckled his belt, zipped down his jeans, and dipped past his briefs to grip his hard cock. Aemond let out a low moan of your name, biting your neck lightly when you began to stroke his length. He continued to fuck you with his fingers, keeping his grip on his sanity as your dainty hands rubbed at his flushed tip. He barely registered when you pulled out his cock to direct it to your pussy to replace his fingers, but he was able to stop you in time before you pulled on his wrist.

“Not here, baby,” he said, earning a whiny pout from you. He planted another kiss on your forehead to soothe you, mumbling a ‘next time’ into your skin.

God, he wanted to fuck you so bad, but he wanted to do it right. He wanted to take the time to devour you in all the ways he could, he wanted to see you take your pleasure from him, to fall apart on his fingers, tongue, before claiming you with his cock. It wouldn’t be possible to do it here, in a library where anyone could see you. 

Instead, he directed his cock to rub on your slit, before pulling your panties back over to cover his cockhead with the fabric. The underside of his cock rubbed on your slit deliciously, its mushroomed tip getting caught by the curve of your folds to rub directly on your clit. You let out a pathetic whimper, slapping your hand to cover your mouth at the sensation.

The halls remained quiet except for the slick sounds coming from in between your thighs, and the heavy breathing from both of you. Aemond bit back a groan as the sensitive tip of his cock snagged on the cotton of your panties, the fabric now drenched with both of your juices.

Your thrusts moved in tandem with one another, chasing both of your releases. You gripped the back of Aemond’s neck to pull him towards you, smashing your lips together. Your hips had a mind of its own, moving desperately as you felt the warmth in your belly grow. You panted into Aemond’s mouth, who swallowed every moan that left you with his lips. A chorus of his name fell out of your lips, voice turning whiny as he hurled you towards your precipice. 

The feeling of the protruding vein on the underside of Aemond’s cock rubbing at your clit was what sent you overboard, burying your head into the crook of his neck as you spilled in your underwear. In the dizzying haze of your release, you tried to catch your breath and watched Aemond pull his length away from you. His expert hand began to stroke it furiously, and you watched, mesmerized, as his face contorted into an expression of pleasure. Your hand fondled his balls to aid him towards his release, your mouth capturing his in another passionate kiss. You felt his stones tighten in your touch, and Aemond pulled away as he felt the coil in his stomach start to snap. His free hand hooked onto the top of your panties, exposing your cunt once more. He points his cock down towards your pussy, before ejaculating into your underwear. You gasped at the warm droplets of cum that painted your mound, relishing in the sound of his grunts of your name in your ear. 

Aemond’s fingers snapped back the elastic against your skin, before cupping your clothed cunt that kept his seed, making sure it stayed there. He leaned back to look at your flushed face, tucking back some loose strands of hair behind your ear.

Your eyes closed when he placed a tender kiss on your forehead, breath shuddering as his lips trailed down to plant another one on your nose, your cheeks, and then finally, your swollen lips. The kiss was sweet and gentle, and as you pulled away you couldn’t help the sheepish smile you beamed up at him, to which he responded with a fond look.

After that little tryst, you and Aemond were practically inseparable. You would walk together around campus, study together, and of course, take classes beside each other. He had even taken the initiative to wait outside your lecture hall during your other classes, walking you back to your dorm or taking you out to eat afterwards if you were hungry. He was the perfect gentleman, always carrying your books or your bag and keeping a protective arm around your waist as you walked. Speaking of touch, whenever you and Aemond were together, he always had to be touching you in some way, be it with an arm around your shoulder, or through the kisses he planted on your skin whenever he got the chance. 

He had even introduced you to Felix, who admittedly, Aemond could barely stand. He and Felix were childhood friends, having been around each other’s families for years because of their connections. He was only around Catton and the little bundle of people that followed his tail because of their familiarity with each other, but even being around their boisterous, mentally obtuse group for a short period did Aemond’s head in.

Still, you graciously accepted Felix’s invites to some parties, though you and Aemond only ever stayed for a few moments before wandering off hand in hand. After that night in the library, the extent of your touches only ever extended to making out and fondling each other. With exam week coming up soon, you both barely had the time to indulge in your desires. Your friends were excited for you, often asking you the juicy details about Aemond, to which you only shyly responded with vague answers, much to their protests. They warned you, however, about the Targaryens’ nonexistent commitment abilities. It wasn’t specific to Aemond, but to all of the ones that came before him. One of your girlfriends still harbored a bitter resentment for his older brother, Aegon, for having treated her like she was nonexistent despite being the reason for her pregnancy scare. 

Their advice made you think, Aemond hadn’t explicitly asked you to be his girlfriend yet, so you weren’t technically together. Yet the way his hands squeezed your tits when you made out was certainly an indication you weren’t just friends… right?

These thoughts clouded your mind as you sat beside Aemond. It was the end of midterm season, and many students appropriately wanted to celebrate. You were invited to a pre-game by Felix, a prelude to the actual party later in the night. You were sat with Aemond on the couch, his hand drew circles around the exposed flesh of your thighs, while he listened to the group’s conversation.

Your best friend, Sarah, was on the loveseat to your left, her legs extended across the length of the seat. Her soft call of your name made you turn to look at her. She cocked her to Cerelle Lannister, who had been openly making eyes at your kinda-but-not-really boyfriend. The blonde was also another childhood friend of Aemond’s, and you wondered whether there had been something more between the two that you didn’t know about. 

These fucking rich people, I swear, you thought as you glared at Cerelle from across the group. She had made a couple of passes at him throughout the night, shooting him teasing remarks despite it being completely out of topic from the group’s conversation. Aemond had only responded with a roll of his eye or completely ignored her together. However, his lack of shutting down her attempts only seemed to encourage the blonde, which enraged you. 

Your eyes met Sarah’s, who raised her eyebrows at you, silently conveying, ‘Can you believe this bitch?’

You only let out a sigh, to which Aemond turned to you to kiss your temple and rub at your skin. You flashed him a fake smile, before downing the liquor in your cup in one go. 

Besides his inner circle of friends, Felix also invited some people he knew, one of whom was Mark. The familiar brunette appeared, passing by you and Sarah on the couch. Your best friend called him over, greeting him. The friendly second-year greeted both of you with a smile, telling you both he was headed to the kitchen to grab another drink. Sarah grabbed you along, snatching you from Aemond’s touch to lead you away.

“I’m just gonna be at the kitchen,” you quickly said, already being dragged away before he could reply. Aemond watched as you walked away with Sarah, though his eyebrows furrowed in dismay when he spotted Mark trailing behind you. His eye stayed on you until you disappeared through the kitchen, debating whether to follow you or not. Aemond ultimately decided to let you be. If Sarah was with you, he doubted she would let Mark try anything on you.

“So… that’s why you aren’t seeing Floris anymore,” Farleigh spoke up beside Aemond, watching as the silver-haired man's eye still stared down the hall you disappeared to. He sighed at his friend’s words, returning to face him.

“I’m not seeing Floris anymore because she makes me want to get run over by a bus, Farleigh,” he responded, staring back at Felix’s cousin who stared him down analytically. 

In the kitchen, you accepted the shot of vodka handed to you. You downed the shot, grimacing at the burn of the cheap liquor down your throat. 

“Listen, I love you,” Sarah started, pouring another shot for herself, “but you have got to do something about that blonde little cunt before I do it for you.”

“She’s right,” Mark agreed, nodding at you. He had been debriefed on the whole situation by Sarah, pitching in his friendly advice. 

“I know, but they’ve known each other since they were kids! What if I was the one clueless about something that has been going on between them?” You spoke, shoulders sagging as you thought about the prospect of your words being true. You contemplated whether that was the real reason why he refused to fuck you in the library.

“Well, then, tell Aemond to say bye-bye to that majestic hair if that’s true. He can’t be going around fuckin’ touching you and kissing you in front of everyone if he’s got another girl, and he most certainly cannot be leading you in circles!” Sarah exclaimed. The back of her hand slapped Mark’s shoulder, who jumped at the sudden strike. “Back me up here, Mark.”

Your eyes looked at him, frowning. He sighed at the sight of you, thinking back to the possibility of what could’ve been. Mark nodded, giving you a genuine smile.

“A girl like you shouldn’t be left waiting. He’d be the biggest idiot in the world if he let his chance get away,” he said, tone filled with nothing but sincerity. Your heart warmed at his words, deeply appreciating the friendship you maintained. You flinched as Sarah slammed down her shot glass after downing another one, now tipsy, before pointing a finger at you.

“Y’know what? If he won’t tell you, just go and find out for yourself. It’s fuckin’ 2005, babe! Chivalry’s dead and buried six feet beside Princess Di. If you want him, go get him,” Sarah persuaded you. With encouragement from both of your friends, you realized they were right. You can’t be waiting around contemplating Aemond’s true feelings for you. You wanted him, and hell, you were going to make him all yours.

You nodded with conviction, exhaling a deep breath as you gathered all your courage. Sarah passed you another shot, which you drank for liquid courage. Wiping your hands on your skirt, you turned away to walk out of the kitchen to find Aemond. 

Walking back down the hall, you found the couch empty, with no Aemond in sight. Your attention was grabbed by a series of hollers from further down the hall, where everyone gathered around cheering on while some guy was chugging an entire bottle of vodka, encouraged by the chants around him.

You found Aemond off to the side, leaning on the wall as he watched on in amusement. He took a swig of beer from the bottle in his hand, still unaware of your presence. He looked absolutely godly. He sported a gray crewneck that hugged his lithe form perfectly, the sleeves were pushed back to expose his forearms, and the silver chain hidden in his shirt glinted in the dim light of the room. With a sudden surge of desire going through you, you made your way to him. As you reached him, your hand grasped his elbow, making him turn to you. Without any warning, you smashed your lips onto his, cupping his jaw as you kissed him passionately. His lips responded in fervor, hand slithering around your back to pull you closer to him. Aemond pulled away to look down at you, studying the dazed look in your half-lidded eyes.

“I need you, now,” you made known, a steady conviction in your tone. The man before you smirked, nodding and grabbing your hand to take you away. The beer bottle in his hand was discarded, and he guided you up the stairs. He led you down the hallway lined with rooms, stopping at the third door on your left. He twisted the doorknob to find it unlocked, opening it wide to let you in first. Your eyes widened at how easily he had found this room, looking up at him in confusion.

“It’s Felix’s room. Knobhead never locks it,” Aemond informed you, cocking his head to urge you to enter. You stepped into Felix’s room, which was a little bit messy for your taste. Aemond locked the door behind you, before gripping your waist to turn you around. 

Your lips locked together once more, devouring each other as you blindly stepped towards the bed. You pushed Aemond down on Felix’s mattress, before kneeling on the floor before him. Aemond ran a hand through his silver hair, his hungry gaze stuck on you as he watched you unbuckle his belt. Your hands worked quickly, a sense of urgency in your actions to take him. Pulling out his cock, you kept your eyes on his while your tongue darted out to lick his tip, teasing him. He let in a sharp inhale, before groaning when you began to stroke his shaft. 

“Fucking hell… open your mouth,” he rasped out, gripping your chin to tilt your head towards him. A whimper left your open lips when Aemond spat into your mouth. His large hand gripped the back of your head, directing you back to his cock. With the extra saliva as lubrication, you took his length into your mouth, sinking until your nose hit his pubic bone. You heard him let out a curse, before starting to bob your head up and down. You switched between sinking your mouth onto his length and stroking it with you hand.

Your pace increased fast, sucking his cock with an air of desperation. It might have been the booze, or the sheer fact that your desire for him overwhelmed your senses. Your confidence was boosted at the sounds falling from his pretty lips, his raspy voice sending tingles straight to your core. You blindly reached for his wrist and, while your other hand gathered your hand into a makeshift ponytail. You guided him to grip your hair, pushing on the back of his to urge him to use you however he wanted. 

His grip was tight as he moved you up and down his cock to his liking. His grunts verberated off the walls of the room, while the erotic sounds of your throat taking his cock filled the quiet space.

All too sudden, he pulled you off his cock. You panted when you came up for air, spit running down the corners of your swollen mouth. Aemond’s gaze darkened at the sight of you, his perfect girl. His thumb wiped on the side of your lips before he surged forward to kiss you. 

“My good girl,” he mumbled against your lips, earning a moan from you. His hands on your elbows urged you to stand, and you pulled away to pull your dress off in one swift motion, before dropping your panties to the floor.

The sight of your bare body took Aemond’s breath away. His good eye stared up at you in admiration, and his hand gripped the soft flesh of your waist to pull you closer to him. He snuggled his face into your stomach, breathing in the sweet scent of your flesh. You giggled at the kisses that he tickled you with, running your hand through his hair soothingly. 

“You’re perfect,” he said, looking up at you with adoration. Your heart swelled as you blushed, before leaning down to recapture his lips. He pulled off his shirt while your thighs straddled his lap, caging him. Aemond could taste the salty tang of his pre-cum on your tongue, though he didn’t find it within him to be disgusted. He reached into his pocket to pull out his wallet where kept a condom, but your hand stopped him from taking the foil out.

“We don’t have to,” you said, biting your lips as you looked at him. Aemond’s eye stared at the way your lips were swollen, your cheeks flushed from the growing heat in the room.

“Are you sure?” he asked, to which you nodded.

“I’m on birth control, and I… I’m clean,” you tell him. He nodded at you, giving you a comforting smile, and caressing your cheek softly with his thumb.

“Me too, there’s no one else,” he said, to which you gave him a surprised look. Confusion graced his features at your surprise. “Did you think…”

You gave him a sheepish look, avoiding his gaze by keeping your eyes on the dragon pendant of his necklace. You saw his chest shake when he chuckled, slightly jumping when his hands squeezed your waist to prompt you to look at him.

“You’re so cute,” he teased, squeezing your plump cheek. You looked at him shyly, meeting his amused gaze. 

“You’re my girl,” Aemond said softly, now cupping your jaw. Your eyes slightly widened at his words, joy filling your chest. “Really?” You beamed up at him.

“Of course you are, I thought I made it pretty obvious by now,” he responded. You huffed at his words playfully, shaking your head lightly. Idiots, you both were. You could have saved yourself a lot of confusion and torment if only you had talked sooner. 

“Well, you didn’t really ask,” You shrugged, to which Aemond nodded in understanding. He pecked your cheek, and then your lips, mumbling an apology against your pout. Your look turned playful, hips scooting closer to press your wet slit against his cock that still stood high. “And I haven’t really given you an answer. Actually, I might need some convincing,” you suggested with a teasing tone. He raised his eyebrow at your words, lips pulling up into a smirk.

“Hm, why don’t I just show you then?” Aemond said. Before you could respond, he lifted your hips and aligned his cock to your slit. He impaled you on his length in a split second, causing you to let out a loud moan in surprise. His large hands guided you up and down his cock, giving you no time to adjust as he set a quick pace. From this position, his cockhead kissed the end of your cervix directly, the sensation making your eyes roll back into your skull.

Despite being on top, it was clear Aemond had full control, which was good because you lost your wits almost instantly. He wrapped an arm behind you to keep you bouncing on his lap, before leaning back to lay down. His feet propped up on the edge of the bed, allowing him to thrust up into you. You felt like a ragdoll in his arms, pliant and purely his to fuck. His free hand gathered your hair, pulling it back to expose your neck. Breathless whines freely fell from your slacked mouth as Aemond bit and sucked marks onto the expanse of your neck. His hips stayed relentless, and his balls slapped against your ass with his quick pace. 

From his perspective below you, your tits bounced in Aemond’s face in tandem with his thrusts. They looked fucking delectable, and he took one in his mouth to suck on the plump flesh. The sensation made your toes clench, and the brewing warmth in your belly only grew the more he thrust into you. You felt him everywhere, his touch burned every inch of your skin, warming up your viscera. His name fell from your lips like a prayer, ‘Aemond… Oh, Aemond’, as though he were a god. 

Tantalized, Aemond watched as your eyes clenched shut, mouth falling into an ‘o’ that released whiny moans. The flush from your cheeks had run down to the surface of your chest, painting your skin with blotches of pink. Sweat beaded on your hairline, some even trailing down the length of your neck. Aemond felt a spark at the bottom of his spine at the sight of you, the beginning of his end fast approaching. The air in Felix’s room started to smell like sex, and at that point it wouldn't be surprising if the windows started fogging up. 

Hips never faltering, the silver-haired man dipped a thumb in between your folds, rubbing quick circles into your clit. You had met his thrusts enthusiastically, but as he started to stimulate your pearl, your pace turned erratic at the added sensation. You could no longer control the volume of your moans, not even registering your mindless babbling while you chased your release. A strange feeling started to spread, something akin to the sensation of wanting to pee. You had started to panic at the odd sensation, but before you could tell Aemond to stop, you squirted a clear liquid from your cunt. Felix’s sheets were stained with your release, though that was the least of your worries because Aemond continued to fuck you through another orgasm that quickly followed. 

His climax washed over him not too long after, pulling out to spurt his seed on his stomach. He used his friend’s sheet to wipe the cum on his abs, to which you gave him an incredulous look.

“Aemond!”

“What? It’s fine. I bet these sheets have probably seen far worse than a little cum. Come here,” he said nonchalantly, pulling you flush against his now clean front. You snuggled into his warm embrace, burying your face into the crook of his neck. You laid there in a comfortable silence, basking in the afterglow of what may have been the best orgasm you’ve ever had. His hand ran down the expanse of your back with a soothing caress, and his lips planted soft kisses on your damp forehead. You felt Aemond’s chest expand as he sucked in a deep breath, before letting out a sigh.

“I feel like an asshole,” he suddenly said. You raised your head from his neck in confusion, brows furrowed as you met his eye.

“Why?” You asked. His icy blue glimmered from the dim light that filtered in through the window, and his starlit hair fell around him like a halo. He looked absolutely ethereal, otherworldly.

“I wanted to take you out on a nice date before we did anything else. I didn’t wanna make you feel like I was only after you sex or whatever,” he admitted, nothing but sincerity in his tone. Your eyes softened at his words, your heart warm at how sweet he is.

“You could still take me out, and then… we could, you know, do this again,” you suggested, making him chuckle at the inviting look in your eyes. He nodded, whispering an ‘okay, baby’ before pulling you towards him for another kiss.

After that night, everyone at Oxford knew you as Aemond’s girl. The pair of you were always stuck together, and at the rare moments any of you were caught walking alone, best believe you were more than likely making your way to meet the other. Felix Catton was none the wiser about the things you did in his room, but it was most certainly not the last time that happened.

By summer, Aemond took you to his family’s estate, Dragonstone. You spent your days in a heated daze, basking in the sun together with Aemond and his siblings. You had gotten incredibly well with all of them, especially Helaena. His mother, Alicent, thought you a doll, and always pestered Aemond to bring you back whenever he could. 

You had taken him to meet your family as well, driving back to your childhood home. It wasn’t Dragonstone, but it was comfortable enough. Your parents absolutely adored what a gentleman he was, even managing to earn your father’s approval, a feat that no other previous boyfriend had been able to achieve.

By summer’s end, Aemond tried to convince you to move out of your dorm and into an apartment with him instead, one just outside of campus. Despite every fiber of your being begging you to say yes, you wanted to keep your own space for a while longer. As much as you loved Aemond, it would be best to not rush into things. You were still students after all, and you wanted to make the most of what university had to offer. You had the rest of your lives to do more things, this you were sure of. 

As the first semester of your second year at Oxford started, you found yourself rushing through the halls towards your tutorial. You were running a few minutes late, and you hated being tardy. You entered the room quietly, throwing your tutor an apologetic look. The other student was already seated, flipping through a book when you entered. Slightly out of breath, you settled down beside him, before turning to give introduce yourself. You gave him a sweet smile as you extended your hand for him to shake. His eyes, covered by thin frames, shifted from your face to your hand, before hesitantly returning the greeting.

“My name’s Michael Gavey,” he said.

My friend 20 minutes ago: Ok, I'm gonna propouse you an idea and I want you to think it. Me: sure My friend: open minded, ok? Me: always My friend: Levi ackerman, ok? Ackerman powers and all Me: I already like this idea My friend: plus...Targeryans, dragons, platinium blond hair... SPEAKING high Valyrian Me:

Y/n: “You better stop raising your voice at me! Right now!”

Levi, smirking: “Or what, Cadet?”

Y/n: “Or.. or.. I’ll cry! And I really don’t wanna embarrass myself right now..”

Penelope: One kiss, it would not mean anything.

Inner Colin after the kiss:

KIT HARINGTON Pompeii (2014)

BLOODY NETFLIX

"here watch the first 5 minutes of the highly anticipated season"

me, dying to watch it all:

KATE SHARMA & ANTHONY BRIDGERTON BRIDGERTON 2x06 THE CHOICE

He's still in awe.

anthony literally bouncing on his feet while kate insults him: i do not like this woman btw

New photo for the Radio Times Photoshoot [x]

Jonathan Bailey before the Met Gala (May 06, 2024) [x]

YOUR HONOR, THIS MAN IS A SLUT FOR HIS WIFE

Kate & Anthony Bridgerton in Season 3 Trailer

I CANT DO THIS ANYMORE