Title: I Cant Handle The Thought Of Losing You. (Aemond Targaryen X House Of The Dragon Imagine)

Title: “I can’t handle the thought of losing you.” (Aemond Targaryen x House of the Dragon Imagine)

Summary: Aemond and his beloved twin sister haven’t seen each other for a month and their first encounter after that time apart is on the battlefield at Rook’s Rest. Aemond is furious that his sister has disregarded his warnings to stay away from the war. Despite his anger, he cannot stay mad at her for long and soon enough, they find themselves catching up for the missed time together.

Warnings: Smut | 18+ | Explicit sexual content | Incest | Targcest | Fluff | Angst

First smutty Aemond Targaryen x Twin Sister imagine: “You’re mine and mine only”

Second smutty Aemond Targaryen x Twin Sister imagine: “You’re everything you me.”

Third smutty Aemond Targaryen x Twin Sister imagine: “I want you to be my Queen.”

Fourth smutty Aemond Targaryen x Twin Sister imagine: “I will make them pay with their life for raising their hand over my Queen.

Author’s note: Thank you all for the great support until now. The journey of Aemond and his twin sister is very fun to write and I am glad to see you loving it, as much as I do. ❤️

======================

I was removing my fight gear, when the door burst open with a loud crash.

Aemond. My twin-brother.

The single eye he had was filled with fury.

“Have you lost your mind?” Aemond yelled, interrupting me.

“Good to see you too!” I sarcastically remarked, while removing my sword belt.

“What in the Seven Hells were you doing on the battlefield!?” He kept.

“Ugh, be quiet. I have a terrible headache.” I winced, massaging my forehead.

“You’re having a headache?” He laughed. “I’m having a headache with you!”

I shot him a bored glare.

“If you came here to just yell at me, then you can leave! I already have enough to deal with!”

I could swear that I saw my brother’s eye twitch by looking at how stiff I was moving.

He walked to the table in the center of my chambers with a clenching jaw and placed his palms on it. I knew him very well and I could see that he was barely holding himself to not explode.

“Do you understand that you have put yourself in an obviously life threatening situation?” He continued with an irritation in his tone and his voice rising. “What if I wasn’t there?”

I took a deep breath, trying to stay calm.

“Aemond, I am not made out of sugar.”

My twin grunted.

“I can’t believe how reckless you are!”

I slowly started losing my composure.

“And what would you have me to do? Stay here and embroider? I only got shot by an arrow, which didn’t even hurt me and so what?! Big deal! I am not dead!”

“But you could have been killed!” He raised his voice and slammed his fist on the table, making me jump.

It was very rare to witness Aemond’s anger, especially when I was the main reason for it. He was furious. Still, I couldn’t step back.

“I am a Targaryen, Aemond, and we are at war! I can’t just sit here and watch while the others fight. I am not someone to be coddled!”

“This is isn’t about coddling, angel!” He replied with a smile, which unfortunately wasn’t out of a good reason. “This is about YOU, putting yourself in an unnecessary danger! That old bitch and her dragon could have taken you down!”

“But she didn’t!” I said simply, raised my hands.

Aemond’s face darkened with frustration. For a matter of seconds he diminished the distance between us and his imposing figure towered over me. Lost in his anger, he grabbed my wrist and pulled me closer to him.

“Do you understand…” he began with a trembling voice. “That every time you expose yourself to a risk… despite my warnings… and seeing you being shot, almost taken down… it’s like you are stabbing my heart with a dagger.”

“Aemond, I didn’t think…”

“That’s the fucking problem!” He hissed and tightened his grip on my hand. “You didn’t think! You didn’t think about the consequences and that you have endangered yourself! Do you have any idea what it felt like seeing you out there, injured and vulnerable? Do you think that I can just erase it from my mind?! Or when the scumbags came here to take Jaehaerys and hurt you too? It is not just a random whim of mine to tell you to stay away from Rook’s Rest and that war.”

My brother’s eye was locked with mine, as if trying to force me to understand the depth of his rage.

A lump in my throat started forming.

“I didn’t realize…”

“Realize!?” Aemond interrupted me. His eye was piercing me and cutting me in half. He was so close to me, that I could feel his breath in my face. “Do you realize that every time you decide to do things on your own, it’s not just about you, but it’s about me. About us.”

“Aemond…”

“I feel helpless and terrified, knowing that I can’t always protect you from everythi-“

Without saying anything, I kissed him, shoving my fingers in his hair.

Aemond’s grip started slowly releasing my wrist and he wrapped his arms around me, pulling me closer. I was feeling them so tight around me, as if he was afraid to loose me.

My brother deepened the kiss and our tongues were dancing the dance of love.

Desperate and demanding.

All the built-up emotions and unspoken fears were poured out in that kiss.

As we were kissing, our negative feelings transformed into something else. The anger, the fear and the frustration turned into a burning desire that has been building up for over a month. I couldn’t remember if there was another time, when we haven’t been intimate for that long.

First, I was on a political mission for two weeks in the Riverlands… and when I returned, Jaehaerys’ assassination happened. I was so shattered and wasn’t in the mood for anything intimate. Then, Aegon and his council started planning their strategies and Aemond had to fly with Vhagar for another political mission. Before he flew away, he made sure to warn me to not ever think of setting my foot in Rook’s Rest. It could get pretty ugly, he said. Despite the fact that he looked dead serious, I didn’t listen to him.

I couldn’t just stay in King’s Landing, knowing that other people are fighting our battle.

The urge to take action was eating me out and the memory of Jaehaerys’ murder fueled my determination.

What could possibly go wrong, I thought, and rode my dragon, Dagahra, to Rook’s Rest.

When I arrived at Rook’s Rest, the battle was already raging. The smell of smoke and blood was filling the air. Soldiers fought fiercely on the ground. Rhaenys Targaryen on her dragon, Meleys, the Red Queen were flying around and destroying our invasion. I knew this would be no easy fight.

I engaged Rhaenys in chasing me. Dagahra was faster than Meleys and we took their attention for a while.

The Dance of the Dragons has begun. Our dragons twisted and turned. We maneuvered through the sky, each trying to outwit the other.

The smell of fire and blood filled my nostrils.

As I was very near to the ground, I felt an arrow, piercing my armour. Luckily, it barely touched my skin and I only got a slight scratch, yet it distracted me and I struggled to maintain the control over Dagahra.

Seconds after the arrow shot me, I heard a familiar powerful roar.

Vhagar.

Aemond.

My brother came out of nowhere, igniting the archers, who shot me.

He led Vhagar in front of me and covered me.

“Get away from here!” Aemond yelled at me from afar.

“No!” I protested.

Just as I have gained back my focus and preparing for another attack, Dagahra let out a painful roar. She was hurt with one of those giant scorpion arrows.

“Dagahra!” I shouted.

My heart was pounding in my chest and I was thinking that it would pop out.

Before I could react, Aemond's sharp and unyielding voice cut through the chaos.

“Did you hear what I said?! Get away from here!”

I turned to see Aemond and Vhagar swooping down. Vhagar’s immense form shielded us from further assaults.

“Go!” Aemond roared again.

I hesitated, glancing at Dagahra's wound.

I decided to not oppose anymore. I couldn’t risk her life. I turned my dragon and headed to our home. On my way back I saw Aegon on the back of his mount, Sunfyre. They were flying to Rook’s Rest, probably to join the battle I had just left behind. Sunfyre's golden scales glinted in the sunlight and Aegon’s expression was determined. He didn’t seem to notice me as I passed by or perhaps he chose to ignore me.

On the way to King’s Landing, I couldn’t stop thinking about how poorly calculated my action was. I had my dragon hurt and barely helped.

When I finally reached the Red Keep, I landed Dagahra as gently as I could, ensuring she was immediately attended to by the dragonkeepers.

I never left her side until her wound was cleaned up and treated properly. She was going to be okay, but she needed some time to rest and recover. I promised her thousands of sheeps.

As I was assured that she was fine, I finally could go and have some rest.

And then we reached the point, where Aemond got home and stormed furiously in my chamber.

It was very sad, because we hadn’t seen each other for two weeks. Considering the short time, we had spent together before they took Jaehaerys’ head, it felt more like that we hadn’t seen each other for a good month. And this was our first encounter after that month. On the battlefield and then in my room with all the gathered tension and frustration from the passed time, in which we were consumed with the tragic events, caused by that war. And which we have spent away from each other. Jumping straight to the argument.

But now, in this moment, all that tension and stress exploded into the desperate need for one another.

I didn’t even bother where we were. I slightly dragged him down, making me follow me as we sank to the floor on the carpet without breaking the kiss.

My twin settled himself between my legs and I was feeling his hard erection pressing against my genitals.

Our hands moved eagerly in a hurried manner to take off the clothes, that we were wearing.

“I need you.” He whispered desperately.

“I’m here.” I replied inbetween our kiss.

Aemond rose on his knees to remove his tunic and the beautiful sight of his well-sculpted abdomen and biceps made my heart skip a beat.

I sat up, so that I can place kisses on his bare chest and abs.

He helped me remove my shirt and attacked my neck, which sent a shiver down my spine.

My brother gently pushed me and made me lay on my back.

His hands roamed my figure with the same burning desire and lust as the very first time he did it.

I felt his lips trace a path from my neck to my collarbone. Then they continued its way to my stomach and stopped inches away from my private parts.

Next thing I could feel was Aemond’s mouth eating me out. His tongue was moving masterly, teasing me to full extent.

I was soaking wet down there and when he entered in me, it slipped so smooth and nicely, that I arched my back from finally feeling the fullness after the one month break.

We were making love on the floor. Aemond on top of me, supporting himself on his hands, which allowed him to watch me moaning and thrust in me with a precise force and pace.

I arched my back, losing myself in the overwhelming sensation of being so completely connected to my twin-brother.

My breasts were bouncing up and down, following the rhythm of our intense movements.

I wrapped my legs around his waist and allowed him to enter deeper. As a response to that Aemond let out a low moan.

Then, he propped himself on his elbows, diminishing the small gap between our bodies and hungrily kissed my lips.

His thrusts became even harder and I had to bite my lower lip so that no one pops up at our door. My nails dug in the skin of his back and goosebumps erupted.

Aemond kept pacing up, making it impossible for me to be quiet.

My twin’s hands and lips began cherishing my body in every possible way. His lips were kissing me and his hands were caressing and squeezing my skin.

“Aemond…” his name escaped my lips inbetween the moans.

He didn’t say anything. Instead started slamming himself in me with full force.

“Yes, yes, yes…” I was close.

Raw.

Hard.

It was just the two of us and nothing else mattered. There was no battlefield, no war, no noble statuses. Just the two of us. And our endless love.

“Please, please…” I whined in despair.

Aemond was pushing himself harder and harder.

“Keep going.” I cried.

Soon enough my walls were clenching around my brother’s member.

“Oh…” I screamed out of pleasure.

He growled - a sign for his release.

I was enjoying his last strokes in me and pulled him for a deep and passionate kiss.

Our bodies remained entangled for a while. In that time we were still sharing soft kisses and gentle caressing, continuing our wordless savouring of our relationship.

I was left with the feeling that all the tension and weight of the past month have faded away and was replaced by a sense of unity and peace.

“I’m sorry.” I apologised sincerely. “I only wanted to help. And didn’t think that it would worry you that much.”

My twin kissed my forehead.

“I know. And I am sorry too. But I can’t bear the thought of losing you. I just can’t.”

As a response to his apology and my accepting of it, my hand found his and squeezed it.

For a moment we were glaring at each other and cherishing the moments, we have finally had for ourselves after that long month.

“I hate it when we fight.” He said, playing with a lock of my silver hair.

“Yeah, me too.” I replied, placing my head on his chest. “I think that we were just missing each other. “

He sighed, his fingers gently stroking my hair.

“Maybe you’re right. And there is no lie that I was desiring you more than ever.”

I smiled.

“I missed you too.” I kissed him.

After some quiet moments, Aemond’s chuckle broke the silence.

“What?” I looked at him.

“Nothing.” He laughed softly. “You love getting yourself into trouble, when I am not around.”

I joined him laughing.

“Well, someone has to keep things interesting around here.” I nudged him with my elbow.

“One day, you will drive me mad, my love.”

“That’s the plan.” I winked.

“You’re impossible.” He said and pulled me for another kiss. “But I don’t mind you dancing on my nerves with your pretty feet.”

“Is that so?” I purred.

“Yes.” he said, removing a strand of hair from my face. "Because it means you're here with me, safe and sound."

Aemond’s words hit me so deep. He was looking at me not with his eye, but with his heart. And I couldn’t believe that there was such a love, so profound and selfless. I knew that our bond was stronger than any war.

I straddled him and kissed him passionately.

“Then I should learn some new dance steps, so that you don’t get bored.”

His grip tightened around me.

“I could never get bored with you… my Queen.” He said and sat up, attacking my lips with another tender kiss.

Suddenly, he turned me around, catching me off guard and making me lay on my stomach.

Before I could react, he gave me a playful spank.

I gasped, more surprised than hurt.

“Aemond!"

He leaned in close, tickling my ear with his hot breath, causing me to shiver.

"Consider it a reminder to not disregard your brother’s warnings.”

I turned my head to look at him.

“Maybe I like testing your patience." I teased him.

Aemond's eye glistened with a mix of amusement and desire.

“Then I'll have to find new ways to keep you in line." He spanked me again, this time a bit harder.

His hand lingered on my reddened skin and caressed the spot he had just struck.

"Maybe it's time I teach you a lesson… of what happens when you disobey your King.” he whispered.

His other hand slid between my thighs, teasing me until I was writhing beneath him.

“Oh, Aemond…” I moaned, as I followed the rhythm of his fingers in me.

“I think you'll like this lesson.” My brother said and spanked me hard once more.

Aegon Targaryen - Lessons

Summary - Aegon's High Valyrian lessons take a tempting turn when his wife, sensing his frustration, offers an irresistible incentive, for every correct answer, another piece of her clothing falls away, turning language practice into an enticing game of lust.

Pairing - Aegon Targaryen x reader

Warnings - Sexual content (smut!!), strong language

Word count - 2496

Masterlist for Aegon • House of the Dragon General Masterlist.

"Aegon, focus," I gently chided, placing the book on the settee beside him. He was already seated, but his gaze had wandered far from the pages.

"I can't," he admitted with a sigh, the frustration clear in his voice. "It's so difficult. I don't think I can learn any more." 

There was a sadness in his tone that tugged at my heart. I immediately softened, guilt pricking at me for being too harsh.

"Of course you can, my love," I said, my voice tender now. 

He was already wrestling with his own insecurities, haunted by the fear that he might never live up to the expectations placed upon him. The last thing he needed was for his wife, his one true sanctuary, to add to that burden.

He looked up at me, curiosity flickering in his eyes as I reached for the book again. "You just need... an incentive," I suggested, a playful edge creeping into my voice.

His interest piqued, and he leaned in closer. 

"What does naejot mean?" I asked, watching him closely.

He hesitated, his brow furrowing in concentration. "Um... forward?" he answered, though it sounded more like a question than a statement.

I pursed my lips, considering whether or not to correct him. Instead, I decided to let it slide.

"Yes," I said, smiling warmly as his face lit up with relief, though a small part of me noted that he wasn't entirely confident.

I placed the book in my lap and slowly, deliberately, reached behind my head to untie the ribbon holding my hair. I took my time, letting the ribbon slide through my fingers before my hair finally cascaded around my shoulders. 

His eyes widened slightly, a mixture of curiosity and anticipation flickering across his features as he inhaled the faint scent of lavender from my loosened hair.

He gave me a questioning look, but I waved him off. "What does zaldrizes mean?" I asked next.

This time, a confident smirk curled his lips. "Dragon," he answered, and I nodded approvingly.

"Perhaps you don't need an incentive after all," I teased, but he shook his head eagerly, clearly unwilling to give up whatever reward he imagined.

"Fine," I mused, standing up slowly. His eyes followed my every movement, and I could see the anticipation growing in his expression. "But just in case..." 

I began to slowly pull off one stocking, inch by inch, watching as his breath hitched slightly. He leaned forward, his gaze fixed intently on me.

"For every word or phrase you get correct, I'll remove a piece of clothing," I explained, my voice low, almost a purr. His eyes darkened with desire, and I saw his throat bob as he swallowed, his focus unwavering.

He leaned back on the settee, smug satisfaction evident in his expression. 

"Well, your ribbon shouldn't have counted as a piece of clothing," he pointed out, a hint of mischief in his voice.

I clicked my tongue in admonishment. "Hush or I'll only remove one stocking and make this last much longer," I warned, and he immediately raised his hands in surrender, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Let's continue, then," I said, resuming my seat. "What does lentor mean?"

He bit his lip, thinking hard. "Maybe... slow?" he guessed, but there was uncertainty in his voice, as though he wasn't sure if he was recalling it correctly.

I shook my head slowly, watching as disappointment flashed across his face. 

"Not quite," I murmured, toying with the edge of my gown. His eyes darted down to the fabric, but I didn't make a move to remove it yet.

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck in frustration. "I thought that was it."

"Patience," I soothed, leaning forward just enough to let my hair brush against his arm. "You'll get there." He nodded, though he still seemed frustrated with himself. 

"Try again," I encouraged. "What about drīvose?"

This time, his brow furrowed deeply. "All?" he asked, but his tone was more hesitant than ever.

I gave him a sympathetic smile, shaking my head. "No, love. It means 'actually.'"

He let out a soft groan, slumping back against the settee with an air of resignation. "I'm never going to get this right," he muttered, his frustration evident.

"Yes, you will," I insisted, my tone firm but gentle. 

I stood up again, slowly beginning to unlace the front of my gown. His eyes snapped to the movement, and I saw a spark of determination light up in his gaze.

"One more try," I offered, my voice soft as I let the laces loosen just enough to hint at what lay beneath. "What is 'all men must serve'?"

He hesitated, his eyes flicking between my fingers and the partially unlaced gown. "Valar dohaeris?" he ventured, his voice tinged with doubt.

I smiled, pleased this time. "Yes," I purred, slipping one shoulder free of the gown, allowing it to hang tantalizingly. His breath caught, and I saw the tension in his shoulders ease slightly.

"See? You're getting there," I encouraged, sitting back down as the gown slipped off fully revealing the sparse clothing I had left. His eyes were locked on me now, the earlier frustration fading as he focused on the incentive.

"Maybe we should always practice this way," he suggested his voice husky with need.

I laughed softly, shaking my head. "Ñuho glaeso hūrus," I said, presenting him with a phrase that I knew had tripped him up before.

His brows knitted together in concentration. "Something of my life," he offered, but his uncertainty was evident.

I sighed softly, a playful hint of disappointment in my expression. "Close, but not quite," I teased, my fingers brushing against the hem of my slip, causing his eyes to darken further with desire.

"But I was close, wasn't I?" he pressed, clearly eager to move forward.

"Close, but close doesn't count," I replied with a smirk, leaving the slip where it was, not offering any further reward just yet.

He groaned, rubbing his temples. "This is impossible."

"It's not," I reassured him, leaning in just enough to let my lips brush against his ear. "You just need to focus a little more."

He closed his eyes as he tried to recall the words. "Star?" he guessed, then shook his head. "No, moon?"

I nodded encouragingly as the slip glided off my body, leaving me in nothing but my small clothes. His eyes were practically devouring me now, but I could see the satisfaction in his gaze as well, knowing he had earned each step forward.

"One last phrase," I said, my voice soft and inviting. "If you get this right, you'll have earned your full reward."

He nodded, his focus entirely on me now.

"North, east, south, and west," I prompted, knowing this set of words had always been a challenge for him.

His expression fell for a moment, the directions always causing him grief. But he took a deep breath, determination shining in his eyes. 

"Jelmor," he began, and I nodded eagerly. "Ñāqon, Vẽzor, and..." He trailed off, a look of panic crossing his face as he struggled to remember the last word.

"Come on, my love," I urged softly. "You know this."  My fingers slipped just beneath the waistband of my small clothes, teasing him further.

"Endia!" he suddenly exclaimed, a triumphant smile breaking across his face.

I glanced at the book to confirm, then smiled warmly, the last of my clothing slipping to the floor. He grinned, the excitement in his eyes mirroring my own.

I tossed the book aside and moved toward him, straddling his lap as I rested my hands on his shoulders. My fingers threaded through his hair, pulling him closer as his hands moved to undress himself.

But I stopped him, placing my hands over his, holding them in place as he looked up at me, puzzled. 

"Avy jorrāelan," I murmured, my voice soft and full of affection.

A slow grin spread across his face, his eyes warm as he replied, "I love you too."

Only then did I let go, allowing him to remove his pants as I quickly undid his tunic. The reward had been hard-earned, but it was worth every moment of the struggle.

He began kissing down the curve of my neck, his lips warm and insistent against my skin. A soft moan escaped me as I started to grind against his lap, teasing him with the promise of what was to come.

"Now, Ñuhor līr gūrēnna," he growled, his voice thick with desire as he grabbed me firmly under my thighs. I will take what is mine.

In one fluid motion, he flipped us over with surprising ease, a quiet squeal of delight escaping my lips as I found myself beneath him. 

"Yes, you shall," I murmured back, my voice breathless with anticipation as his hands began their exploratory journey across my body. 

He leaned back slightly, hoisting me up toward him, his hands still firmly gripping my thighs as he positioned me just above his hard, twitching cock. The anticipation in his eyes was almost unbearable.

"Feels so much better when you've earned it," he gasped out, his voice a mixture of triumph and raw desire. 

As he guided me down onto him, I let out a soft gasp, my body trembling with pleasure. I nodded eagerly, unable to form words, lost in the sensation of him filling me.

He dipped his head into the crook of my neck, his breath hot against my skin as he began to move. His composure was slipping, each thrust sending waves of pleasure through us both. 

He set a steady pace, his control evident, but I could feel the tension building within him, the struggle to maintain that control.

After a few intense minutes, I couldn't resist any longer. My fingers tangled in his hair, playing with the strands in a way I knew drove him wild. His breath hitched, and he faltered for just a moment, the rhythm of his thrusts growing more erratic.

"You feel so good," he whispered in my ear, his voice hoarse with need. 

His words sent a fresh wave of arousal coursing through me, and I clung to his shoulders for support. My walls squeezed around his cock, drawing a low chuckle from him. 

"Come on, my love," he groaned, his voice rough with desire. "Fuck me like I've earned it."

I met his gaze, my eyes dark with passion, and nodded as I began to move with him, matching his rhythm, giving him everything he had worked so hard for.

The room was filled with the raw, intimate sounds of our bodies coming together. 

Our moans and gasps mingled with the wet, rhythmic sounds of his cock driving in and out of me, the intensity of our passion echoing in every corner.

"Fuck, Aegon, yes... right there," I cried out, my voice trembling with need as he adjusted his angle. 

The head of his cock found that perfect spot deep inside me, and the pleasure was so intense it felt like stars were exploding behind my eyes. My body arched into him, desperate for more.

He gasped, his breathing ragged as his control began to slip. 

"I'm close," he managed to say, his voice strained with the effort of holding back. 

His hands tightened around my waist, gripping me like I was his lifeline as his thrusts grew increasingly desperate, the rhythm turning sloppy as he chased his release.

I could feel the tension building within him, his body trembling with the effort to hold on just a little longer. 

"Aegon, let go," I whispered, my voice soft but urgent as I encouraged him, my own body hurtling toward the edge. "I'm with you."

He groaned, the sound guttural and raw as he buried his face in my neck, his pace faltering. I moved with him, our bodies perfectly in sync as we rode the waves of pleasure together, the intensity overwhelming.

The heat between us reached its peak, and with one final, deep thrust, Aegon's body tensed, and I felt him shudder against me, his release spilling into me as he gasped my name. 

The sensation sent me spiralling over the edge, my climax crashing through me like a tidal wave. I cried out, my body trembling as the pleasure consumed me, every nerve alight with ecstasy.

For a moment, the world around us seemed to dissolve, leaving only the two of us entwined in the aftermath of our passion. I held him close, my fingers gently stroking his hair as we caught our breath.

After a while, I broke the comfortable silence, a playful glint in my eyes. "So, aren't I a good teacher?" I asked, a smirk tugging at the corners of my lips as I teasingly ruffled his hair.

He laughed, the sound rich and warm, vibrating through both of our bodies. His fingers found mine, intertwining them with a gentle but firm grip. He lifted my hand to his lips, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to my knuckles. 

"The best," he murmured, his eyes sparkling with affection as he looked at me. "Your methods are rather... motivating."

"Perhaps I should start teaching others, then," I teased, my tone light and mischievous as I watched his reaction.

His playful expression faltered for a moment, and he tutted, shaking his head in mock disapproval. A possessive glint flashed in his eyes as he leaned in, his voice dropping to a whisper. 

"Not with those methods, you aren't," he murmured, his breath warm against my ear. "Those are strictly reserved for me."

I couldn't help but smile, feeling a rush of affection for him. 

"Oh, is that so?" I teased back, arching an eyebrow as I pretended to consider his words. He nodded, his expression serious despite the humour dancing in his eyes. 

"Absolutely," he confirmed, pulling me even closer, his hands sliding down to rest on my hips. "I'm not sharing this with anyone. You're mine."

His words, though spoken in jest, carried an undercurrent of sincerity that made my heart skip a beat. I could see the love and devotion in his gaze, the same feelings that mirrored in my own heart. 

"And you're mine," I whispered back, leaning in to brush my lips against his in a soft, lingering kiss.

The kiss deepened slow and tender, a gentle reminder of the connection we shared. When we finally pulled away, we were both smiling, the world outside our little cocoon fading further into the background.

I rested my head on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart as his fingers continued to play with mine. 

"You know," I mused, "if this is how our lessons go, I think I'll need to give you a lot more of them."

He chuckled, the sound low and content. "I think I'll need them," he agreed, his voice a soft rumble in his chest. "After all, I'm a very eager student when you're the one teaching."

We lay there in comfortable silence, our bodies still intertwined. There was no need for words; the connection between us spoke volumes.

All that mattered was this moment, this closeness, and the knowledge that we belonged to each other, in every possible way.

A/n - Another fav, this was so fun to write asw (the idea came to me from a movie I seen years ago called 'Loser') 😭😭

The Silver and The Gold

- Summary: This was the first time you and Aegon acknowledged the bond between you, and the first time you are truly one.

- Paring: twin!reader/Aegon II

- Note: reader is referred to as Y/N and is bonded with dragon called Starfyre. If you want to read this series in chronological order, you can find the list of my works on my blog. The list is pinned to the top. This is currently considered part one. But it can be a part just for itself.

- Rating: Explicit 18+

- Word count: 5 191

The sun hangs low in the sky, casting a warm, golden hue over the Red Keep. You and your twin, Aegon, have managed to slip away from your septa’s watchful eye once again, finding solace in one of the many hidden alcoves of the castle. These moments away from the prying eyes of the court are your favorites, the only times when you can be truly yourselves—just Y/N and Aegon, two halves of a whole, inseparable from the moment you entered this world together.

Your laughter echoes softly through the stone corridor as you both rush through a narrow passageway, your hand firmly clasped in his. Aegon’s pale blonde hair glows in the dim light, and when he glances back at you, there’s a mischievous sparkle in his violet eyes. You’ve both been caught sneaking away before, but the thrill of breaking the rules only adds to the excitement.

“Y/N,” he whispers with a grin, pulling you into a small chamber tucked away behind a tapestry. “They’ll never find us here.”

Your heart races, not from fear of getting caught, but from the proximity to him, the closeness you’ve always shared yet lately feels different, more charged. The chamber is small, barely furnished, but it feels like a world of your own. The tapestry falls back into place, cloaking you both in semi-darkness, the only light filtering in from a high, narrow window.

“We’ll be in such trouble if they find us,” you say, though there’s no true worry in your voice. The thrill of being alone with him like this, away from everyone’s expectations, makes it all worth it.

Aegon shrugs, a playful smirk on his lips. “When are we not in trouble?”

The truth of his words makes you both laugh again, and for a moment, it’s just like when you were children, chasing each other through the gardens, getting scolded for dirtying your clothes. But as your laughter fades, a tension fills the small space, thickening the air between you.

You’ve always been close to Aegon, closer than anyone else in your life. He’s been your constant companion, your protector, and your best friend. But lately, there’s been something more—a longing in his gaze, a flutter in your stomach when he brushes your hand, a sense that you both are standing on the edge of something new and terrifying.

“Aegon…” you begin, unsure of how to voice the feelings that have been swirling inside you.

He steps closer, his expression softening. “Y/N, I… there’s something I’ve been wanting to tell you.”

You look up at him, your breath catching as you see the earnestness in his eyes. He’s nervous, you realize, the ever-confident Aegon, unsure of himself for once. The realization emboldens you, and you reach out, your hand trembling slightly as you place it on his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath your palm.

“I think I know,” you whisper, your voice barely audible.

He covers your hand with his, his touch warm and steady. “Do you?” he asks, his tone soft, almost reverent. His free hand reaches up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly across your skin. The gentleness of the gesture sends a shiver down your spine, and you lean into his touch, your eyes drifting closed.

When his lips meet yours, it’s as though the world stops. The kiss is tentative at first, exploring, as if you’re both afraid of crossing an invisible line. But the moment your lips part and you taste him—sweet and warm and utterly intoxicating—everything changes. The kiss deepens, fueled by the years of unspoken feelings, of wanting and needing but never daring to take.

Aegon’s hands slide to your waist, pulling you closer until there’s no space left between you. Your own hands find their way to his shoulders, then into his hair, threading through the silken strands as you press yourself against him. The kiss becomes more urgent, more desperate, as if you’re both trying to make up for all the time you’ve wasted.

You’re not sure when it happens, but at some point, you find yourself lying back on the small bed in the corner of the chamber, Aegon above you. His kisses trail from your lips to your jaw, down the column of your throat, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. Your breathing is ragged, your heart pounding as his hands explore the curves of your body, as if he’s trying to memorize every inch of you.

“Y/N,” he murmurs against your skin, his voice rough with desire. “I need you… I’ve always needed you.”

His words send a jolt of electricity through you, and you arch into him, your body responding to his touch in a way that feels both entirely new and utterly familiar. You’ve always belonged to him, just as he has always belonged to you. It’s as if this moment was inevitable, written in the stars long before you were born.

“I’m yours, Aegon,” you whisper, the confession slipping from your lips before you can second-guess it. “I’ve always been yours.”

His gaze darkens, and you see the shift in him, the realization that you’re his just as much as he is yours. The passion between you ignites, and the world outside the small chamber fades away. There’s only Aegon—his touch, his breath, the way he makes you feel more alive than you’ve ever felt before.

Your clothes are discarded in a tangle of limbs and heated kisses, and when he finally joins with you, it’s like the world is remade. The sensation is overwhelming, a mixture of pain and pleasure that leaves you gasping, but the way he looks at you, the way he whispers your name, makes it all worth it. He moves within you, and the rhythm you find together is as natural as breathing, as if you were made for this, for each other.

Time loses meaning as you both give in to the storm of emotions that has been building for so long. And when it’s over, when you’re both spent and breathless, you lie tangled together on the bed, the air between you charged with something new, something that can never be undone.

“I love you,” Aegon whispers, his voice hoarse but filled with a sincerity that makes your heart swell. He brushes a strand of hair away from your face, his touch tender, almost reverent.

“I love you too,” you reply, the words feeling right, like they’ve always been there, just waiting to be spoken.

You’re about to kiss him again when the door to the chamber creaks open. You both freeze, your eyes wide with shock as you turn toward the sound. A servant stands in the doorway, her face pale, her eyes wide with disbelief at the sight before her.

For a moment, no one moves. The servant seems to realize what she’s walked in on, her hand flying to her mouth as she stammers an apology. She backs out of the room quickly, her footsteps echoing down the corridor as she flees, leaving you and Aegon alone once more.

Your heart races, panic and embarrassment flooding you. But when you look at Aegon, you see that he’s not afraid. He’s smiling, a slow, confident grin that makes your heart flutter.

“Let them talk,” he says, his voice steady. “I don’t care what they say, Y/N. You’re mine, and I’m yours. Nothing will change that.”

His words calm the storm inside you, and you smile back at him, knowing he’s right. Whatever happens next, you’ll face it together, just as you always have.

The grand hall of the Red Keep is bathed in the warm glow of the setting sun as King Viserys Targaryen lounges on his throne, a sense of contentment softening the lines of his aging face. His golden crown rests heavily on his brow, but the weight of it seems lighter today as he speaks with Otto Hightower, his trusted Hand. Queen Alicent, ever dutiful, stands nearby, her hands folded neatly in front of her.

The rhythmic sound of booted feet echoes through the hall, growing louder as the doors swing open to admit a pair of Dragonkeepers. They stride forward, their faces marked with the quiet reverence that always accompanies news from the Dragonpit.

“Your Grace,” one of them begins, bowing low. “We bring news of the dragons, Sunfyre and Starfyre.”

Viserys leans forward, his interest piqued. His voice carries the weight of authority but also a grandfatherly warmth. “Speak then, what of the golden and the silver?”

The Dragonkeeper straightens, his voice steady but tinged with awe. “Sunfyre has successfully mounted Starfyre. They have mated, Your Grace.”

A collective breath seems to fill the hall, a hum of interest and excitement threading through the air. Viserys’s eyes light up with pleasure, his mind already considering the implications. “This is indeed prosperous news for our House. If their union brings forth viable eggs, it will be a blessing of great fortune.”

Beside him, Alicent nods in agreement, though her attention wavers as a servant, face pale and anxious, approaches her with hurried steps. The servant leans close, whispering into the Queen’s ear. Alicent’s expression shifts, her eyes widening before narrowing into a tight, painful grimace.

Viserys notices, his brows knitting together in concern. “Alicent, what troubles you? Speak plainly.”

The Queen hesitates, her gaze flitting to Otto before settling on Viserys. Her voice is low, strained. “It is… the twins, Your Grace. They… they were found together, in an intimate situation. They had eluded their septa.”

The words hang in the air, and for a moment, there is silence. Viserys’s face hardens, but there is something else in his eyes—a flicker of understanding, perhaps, or resignation.

“Aegon and Y/N…” he murmurs, his voice trailing off. He closes his eyes briefly, then sighs deeply. “The blood of the dragon runs hot, it seems.”

Otto shifts uncomfortably, but it is Alicent who speaks next, her voice taut with disapproval. “They are young, but such behavior is… unbecoming, Your Grace. They must be reminded of their duty, of what is expected of them.”

Viserys opens his eyes, looking at Alicent with a mixture of weariness and something almost like amusement. “They are twins, born together, bound by blood and by fire. Is it so surprising that they would find comfort in each other, as their dragons do?”

Alicent’s lips press into a thin line, but she does not respond, sensing the futility of arguing with the king on this matter.

Viserys continues, his gaze distant as he muses aloud. “Sunfyre and Starfyre—brother and sister, golden and silver, a union as beautiful as it is powerful. They were born in the same moment, just as Aegon and Y/N were. Their bond is not one of simple affection; it is something deeper, something… ancient. The dragons choose their riders, and perhaps, in some way, they guide them too.”

The comparison is not lost on anyone in the room. Sunfyre and Starfyre, two magnificent creatures, both radiant with their own unique beauty, have chosen to mate, their union a symbol of strength and unity for House Targaryen. And like their dragons, Aegon and Y/N share a bond that goes beyond mere sibling affection, a bond forged in fire, blood, and the shared legacy of their house.

Alicent’s discomfort is palpable, but Viserys waves a hand, dismissing her concerns with a sigh. “They are of age soon enough, and they will wed as is our custom. This will strengthen the bloodline, as it has always done. There is no shame in what has happened, only the inevitability of it.”

The room falls silent once more, the tension easing slightly as Viserys’s words settle over them. The Dragonkeepers, still standing at attention, exchange glances before the king waves them away.

“Go,” Viserys says, “and let us hope that Sunfyre and Starfyre’s union blesses us with eggs, and that the fire of our blood burns ever brighter.”

As the Dragonkeepers leave, Alicent glances at Otto, her discomfort still visible. Otto, ever the strategist, simply inclines his head slightly, acknowledging the situation but offering no further comment.

Viserys, his mind already drifting to other matters, leans back in his throne. “Aegon and Y/N…” he murmurs again, almost to himself. “They are as their dragons, destined to be together. Let them be. They will learn their duties soon enough.”

The conversation moves on, but the parallel between the dragons and their riders lingers, unspoken but understood. You and Aegon, like Sunfyre and Starfyre, are bound by something elemental, something that neither courtly expectations nor the disapproval of others can sever. The fire of your shared blood burns bright, and as Viserys himself has said, it is inevitable.

And as you stand by Aegon’s side, you cannot help but feel the truth of it in your very bones.

The dawn breaks over the Red Keep, casting its golden light through the high windows of the royal chambers. The warmth of the sun does little to thaw the icy tension that fills the room as Queen Alicent stands before you and Aegon, her expression a mixture of stern disapproval and maternal concern.

You and Aegon sit side by side on a cushioned bench, close enough that your thighs touch, your fingers occasionally brushing as though neither of you can bear to be apart for even a moment. Aegon’s hand rests casually on your knee, a gesture of comfort and possession that seems to rile Alicent further. She stands before you both, her arms crossed, her lips pressed into a thin line as she gathers herself to speak.

"Do you understand the gravity of what you have done?" Alicent’s voice is sharp, each word carefully enunciated as though she needs to be sure you both understand.

Aegon lifts a shoulder in a careless shrug, his expression almost bored. "What we’ve done, mother, is what was expected of us. Or will be, soon enough." His voice is tinged with the arrogance of someone who knows his place and feels no need to apologize for it.

Alicent’s eyes narrow at his nonchalance, her voice rising slightly as she responds, "Expected of you? To dishonor yourselves in such a way, before your wedding even takes place? This is not just a matter of propriety, Aegon. You were found in an… improper situation, one that brings shame upon you both."

Aegon scoffs, leaning back against the bench, his arm slipping around your waist, drawing you closer to him. "Shame? There is no shame between us. We are to be wed, and what we do now is no different than what we will do once it’s official. The dragons have already shown us the way—why should we deny what is natural?"

His words are blunt, almost crude in their simplicity, and they make Alicent flinch. She shakes her head, clearly frustrated by her son’s cavalier attitude. "You are too flippant, Aegon. You speak as though this is a game, but there are consequences to your actions, even if you do not see them now."

Aegon tightens his hold on you, his gaze unwavering as he meets his mother’s eyes. "There are no consequences that matter, not when the King himself sees no issue. Father understands what we are, what we will be. Why can’t you?"

Alicent’s cheeks flush with anger, and she turns to you, as though seeking an ally in her reprimand. "And you, Y/N? How is it that you two continue to escape your septa’s watchful eyes? This is not the first time, and yet you act as though your actions have no meaning. What do you have to say for yourself?"

Your heart beats steadily in your chest as you look up at your mother, your expression calm. "We did what we had to, mother. The septa cannot keep us apart, and I would not let her even if she tried. Aegon and I…" You pause, searching for the right words. "We are meant to be together, as our dragons are. We are stronger together, and we find peace in each other’s company. Why should we be made to feel guilty for that?"

Alicent’s frustration gives way to something like despair as she realizes that neither of you feel any remorse for your actions. She looks between you and Aegon, her voice softer but no less stern. "You must understand that your behavior reflects on the entire House. You carry the weight of our name, and with that comes the responsibility to act with honor. Your bond is strong, yes, but it must be guided by duty as much as by affection."

Aegon’s grip on you tightens, and he leans in, pressing a kiss to your temple in a gesture that is both tender and defiant. "We know our duty, mother. But our bond is our own. No one, not even you, can dictate how we choose to honor it."

The intimacy between you and Aegon, your heads leaning toward one another, your bodies close, is a silent but powerful statement. It speaks of a love that is as much a part of you as the blood in your veins, a love that refuses to be shamed or hidden away.

Alicent looks away, clearly uncomfortable with the display of affection before her. She takes a deep breath, her voice trembling slightly as she tries one last time to reach you. "I only want what is best for you both. But you must be careful. The court is full of eyes, and tongues wag far too easily. You must be above reproach, especially as the future of this House."

Aegon’s expression softens slightly, though his resolve does not waver. "We understand, mother. But know this—we will not deny what we are. Not for the court, not for anyone. We are dragons, and dragons are not meant to be tamed."

Alicent studies you both for a long moment, and then, with a weary sigh, she nods. "Very well. But know that I will not be so lenient if this happens again. The next time, I will not hesitate to involve your father directly, and you will not like the consequences of that."

With those final words, Alicent turns and leaves the room, her posture rigid with the effort of maintaining her composure. The door closes behind her with a quiet click, and the tension in the room seems to dissipate the moment she is gone.

You and Aegon remain seated, your bodies still close, but now, the air between you feels lighter, freer. Aegon looks at you, a slow smile spreading across his face. "That wasn’t so bad, was it?" he says, his tone playful.

You smile back, leaning into him as you feel his warmth against your side. "No, it wasn’t. But I wish she could understand. We’re not like everyone else."

Aegon nods, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your arm. "She’ll never understand, not fully. But that doesn’t matter. What matters is that we do, and nothing will change that."

You rest your head on his shoulder, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath. "Nothing will change that," you echo softly, knowing the truth of those words deep within your soul.

The heavy oak doors to your chambers close behind you with a quiet thud, sealing the world outside as you and Aegon stumble into the room. The thrill of the night’s stolen moments pulses in your veins, a heady mixture of wine and newfound desire that has you both breathless with anticipation. Your heart races as Aegon pulls you to him, his lips capturing yours in a fierce, urgent kiss.

The taste of wine lingers on his tongue, sweet and intoxicating, as he presses against you, his hands already working at the laces of your gown. You reach for his tunic in turn, your fingers trembling with impatience as you tug at the fabric, desperate to feel his skin against yours.

“We have too many clothes,” Aegon murmurs against your lips, his voice low and rough with need. There’s a teasing edge to his words, but the fire in his eyes is anything but playful.

“Then we should get rid of them,” you reply breathlessly, your hands finally finding purchase on his tunic and pulling it over his head. His skin is warm under your touch, his muscles taut with the tension of restraint quickly unraveling.

Aegon chuckles, a sound that vibrates through you, sending a shiver down your spine. “I couldn’t agree more.”

In your haste, the two of you stumble over each other, half-laughing, half-moan as you attempt to discard your clothing. Your gown pools at your feet as Aegon steps out of his trousers, the two of you moving in a frantic dance across the chamber, neither of you willing to break the contact of your bodies for even a moment.

Aegon’s hands find your waist, lifting you with an ease born of familiarity as he backs you toward a nearby table. Your back meets the cool wood, and you gasp as he pushes your legs apart, his fingers digging into your thighs as he leans over you, his breath hot against your neck.

“You drive me mad,” he whispers, his voice thick with desire as his lips brush your ear, trailing kisses down the column of your throat.

You arch into him, your fingers tangling in his hair as you pull him closer. “And I wouldn’t have it any other way,” you breathe, your words lost in a gasp as he enters you, a moan of pleasure escaping your lips at the feeling of him filling you.

Aegon’s hands grip your hips as he moves, his movements frantic, driven by the urgency of a fire that neither of you can quench. The table creaks under your combined weight, but the noise only spurs him on, his lips finding yours again in a searing kiss.

“I need more of you,” he groans against your mouth, his voice hoarse as he pulls you off the table, your legs wrapping around his waist as he attempts to carry you to the bed.

You cling to him, your nails digging into his shoulders, but in your haste, his foot catches on the edge of a rug, sending you both tumbling to the floor in a tangle of limbs. The fall jolts a laugh from you, the sound bubbling up between moans as you feel the press of him inside you, undeterred by the sudden change in position.

“Aegon,” you gasp, your voice a mix of laughter and desire as you move together, the hard floor beneath you forgotten in the heat of the moment.

He chuckles, a breathless sound that vibrates against your skin. “I think the bed is overrated anyway,” he says, his hands roaming over your body as he thrusts into you with renewed fervor.

You can only moan in response, your body arching into his as the two of you continue your desperate union, every movement fueled by the need to be closer, to feel more of each other.

Eventually, the bed does beckon, and somehow, in the midst of your fevered passion, you find yourselves on it, the soft sheets a welcome change from the hard floor. Aegon’s pace slows slightly as he pulls you against him, his lips finding yours again in a kiss that is no less passionate but now tempered with a kind of tenderness that makes your heart ache.

“You’re mine,” he whispers against your lips, his voice filled with a possessive intensity that sends a shiver down your spine.

“And you’re mine,” you reply, your voice soft but no less fierce, your hands caressing his face as you look into his eyes, the connection between you deepening with every word, every touch.

The night stretches on, the two of you losing yourselves in each other again and again, until finally, you collapse into each other’s arms, exhausted but satisfied, the fire between you finally quenched, at least for the moment.

As you lay there, your bodies tangled together under the covers, Aegon presses a gentle kiss to your forehead, his hand stroking your hair as you drift toward sleep.

“Nothing will ever keep us apart,” he murmurs, his voice a soft promise in the quiet of the night.

You smile, your heart swelling with love as you snuggle closer to him, knowing that no matter what the world throws at you, nothing could ever break the bond you share. And as you drift into sleep, the last thing you feel is the warmth of his body against yours, the steady beat of his heart a comforting reminder that you are exactly where you belong.

The first light of dawn barely touches the sky, casting a pale glow over the Red Keep. The room is dim and warm, filled with the remnants of last night's indulgence—half-empty goblets of wine, discarded garments strewn across the floor, and the heady scent of passion lingering in the air.

You lay tangled in the silk sheets with Aegon, your bare bodies pressed together under the covers. His arm is draped lazily over your waist, and your head rests comfortably on his chest, rising and falling with the rhythm of his breath. The night had been a blur of laughter, whispered confessions, and the kind of love that leaves you both breathless and content.

But the peace of the morning is abruptly shattered as the door to your chamber bursts open. Before either of you can react, the heavy curtains are yanked aside, flooding the room with blinding sunlight. You groan, burying your face in Aegon’s chest to escape the sudden brightness, while he lets out a disgruntled noise of protest.

“For the love of—” Aegon begins, but his complaint is cut short as the covers are ripped away, leaving you both exposed to the cool morning air and the stern gaze of your septa.

“Good morning, my prince, my princess,” she says briskly, her tone making it clear that there’s nothing good about this morning at all. The septa, a stern woman named Septa Maris, has the kind of face that rarely cracks a smile, and this morning is no exception. Her greying hair is pulled back tightly, and her eyes are sharp as they take in the scene before her.

Aegon squints up at her, clearly annoyed. “Septa Maris, what in the seven hells are you doing here at this hour?”

Septa Maris doesn’t so much as flinch at his language. “I am here under the Queen’s orders, Your Grace. Her Majesty has instructed me to ensure that you both maintain a presentable state until your wedding. And further to that matter—” she pauses, her gaze hardening as she looks between you and Aegon, “—you will no longer be sharing a bed until you are properly wed.”

You feel Aegon tense beside you, his annoyance quickly shifting to anger. “That’s absurd,” he snaps. “We’re to be wed soon enough. What difference does it make if we share a bed now or later?”

Septa Maris raises an eyebrow, her tone unyielding. “The difference, Your Grace, is in the propriety of it. You may do as you wish after your vows are spoken, but until then, you will adhere to the customs of our house. Now, both of you, up.”

Aegon groans again, dropping his head back onto the pillow with a dramatic sigh. “This is ridiculous.”

You can’t help but chuckle at his exasperation, and you reach over to brush a lock of his silver hair from his forehead. “Come now, Aegon, you know she won’t leave until we do as she says.”

He turns his head to look at you, his violet eyes gleaming with mischief. “Perhaps we should just ignore her and see if she gives up.”

Septa Maris, unimpressed by the suggestion, clears her throat loudly. “You will rise, both of you, and make yourselves presentable. I will not leave until it is done.”

Aegon lets out another exaggerated sigh but begins to sit up, clearly not thrilled about being dragged out of bed so early. You follow suit, wrapping a sheet around yourself as you move to the edge of the bed.

“There,” Aegon says with a smirk as he tosses his legs over the side of the bed, “we’re up. Are you satisfied now, Septa Maris?”

Septa Maris’s gaze sharpens as she catches sight of the wine-stained goblets on the nightstand and the scattered clothes. “Hardly. You both look like you’ve been dragged through the Dornish desert. You will wash, dress, and present yourselves properly before the Queen hears of this.”

Aegon rolls his eyes but stands, stretching his arms above his head, entirely unconcerned with his state of undress. You can’t help but admire the way the early light plays across his skin, the easy confidence in the way he moves.

“Fine, fine,” he grumbles as he reaches for a discarded tunic. “But don’t think for a moment that we’ll abide by this ridiculous rule of yours. You might keep us apart during the day, but the nights belong to us.”

Septa Maris’s expression is as stern as ever, but there’s a flicker of frustration in her eyes as she turns her attention to you. “And you, my lady, you should know better than to indulge your brother in such folly. You are a princess, and princesses must uphold the highest standards of conduct.”

You offer her a small, apologetic smile as you gather your own clothes, though you’re not feeling particularly sorry. “Of course, Septa. I’ll do my best to remember that.”

Aegon snorts at your diplomatic response, pulling his tunic over his head. “Oh, we’ll remember it, all right. And then we’ll forget it again as soon as she’s out of earshot.”

Septa Maris steps forward, her patience clearly wearing thin. “Enough of this insolence. Lady Y/N, come with me now. You will bathe and dress properly before the morning meal.”

You and Aegon exchange a look as she says this, a silent communication passing between you. His eyes are filled with defiance and a promise—one that says no septa, no matter how stern, could ever keep you apart.

“Don’t worry, Y/N,” Aegon says, his voice light and teasing as he steps closer, his hand brushing yours. “We’ll find a way, as we always do.”

You squeeze his hand briefly before stepping away, following Septa Maris toward the door. “I know,” you say softly, a smile playing at your lips. “No septa or gods could ever keep us apart.”

As you walk away, you feel Aegon’s gaze on you, warm and reassuring. The two of you might be separated for now, but it’s only a matter of time before you find each other again, as you always do. And the thought of that next secret rendezvous, hidden away from prying eyes, fills you with a thrill that no amount of propriety could ever diminish.

And as you leave the room, you’re already thinking of the many ways you can outmaneuver your septa, the promise of another night together fueling your every step.

Sneak Away

Pairing: Aegon II Targaryen x Fem! Sister-wife! Reader

Requested?: No

Summary: There's perks in knowing Maegor's tunnels, and Aegon makes the most of it, by going to you every time the world seemed to turn against him, and tonight, you remind him how good he can be.

Word count: 3.2k

Warning/s: 18+ MINORS DNI!! canon-typical incest and language, smut! piv, unprotected sex, virginity loss, porn w little plot?? help- sub! aegon, dom but virgin! reader (is that a thing or did i make that up), slight angst? hurt/comfort, aegon having a praise kink, possesive aegon, breast play, riding/cowgirl, mutual orgasm, slight breeding kink from aegon, lmk if i missed anything!

Note: mind empty- need aegon- first time writing for him i hope i did okay- i don’t think i was thinking when i was writing this <3 likes, reblogs, and feedbacks are always appreciated!

GIF is not mine, credits to the owner!

Only few knew the hidden pathways hidden within the Red Keep, Maegor’s tunnels, they call it, some say the secret passages were haunted by every stonemason, woodworker, and laborers who participated in building such intricate pathways- only to be ordered to be slain by Maegor, promising that only those of the blood of the dragon would know where every path led, whether it leads out into the streets, or rather a different room in the Red Keep.

For Aegon, he had grown to use these secret pathways for his own escape and enjoyment possibly out in the streets… or mostly to visit his sister-wife at night in her own chambers when she does not sleep in his chambers, using the tunnels to effortlessly keep away from prying eyes and ears. 

You. You were the twin-sister of Helaena, the princesses ever so adored by the realm and yet barely seen out the Red Keep. You and Helaena, much as twins you were, you two had contrasting personalities.

As Helaena liked to keep to herself with her fascination with critters and such, you were more into the knowledge of the realm, nose always buried within a book or always eagerly attending your lessons with the Septa. 

Until you had come of age along with Helaena, wherein your mother, Alicent Hightower had initially proposed Helaena to be wedded to Aegon, in which you did not agree with, having witnessed Aegon’s recklessness and his debauchery, you cared for your twin too much to imagine her with someone like Aegon. 

And therefore you were the one wedded to your older brother, Aegon. Aegon, however, wasn’t also somehow pleased with the notion, he found you utterly annoying, ‘too smart for your own good’ as he could recall your countless banters with one another. 

However, as your marriage came to be, it almost gave you whiplash on how different Aegon had acted before to now. Yes, he despised your marriage, but soon he also found himself stuck with your company whether you both liked it or not.

One night you had found Aegon stumbling into your chambers drunk, of course, you had braced yourself for what was he about to do to you since he was quite unpredictable, but what he did was far more than what you expected.

Instead, he drunkenly blabbered away at his insecurities, of not being enough, of always doing what was expected of him yet your mother had always found ways to call him all sorts of names to his face, and your father the King never even once tried to make a bond with him, when all he ever wanted was to hear just once that he had done well from your mother and father, now all that seems too far within reach as the King’s health was declining. 

That night, you had suddenly understood why Aegon was the way he was. Since then, Aegon has found no judgment with you. Sometimes it was a surprise to find him sober, at your chambers, seeking comfort in your arms. You, his sweet sister, was like a salve, a remedy for it all. 

Aegon still had trouble showing his true emotions verbally, but he always wanted to show you how much he appreciated you, it was even surprising that he had yet to fill your womb with a child, but he often had bought you gifts and little trinkets that reminded him of you, thinking it would be enough to somehow show that he was trying, for you. 

And in turn, you understood, you always knew what to say that had Aegon melting into your arms. 

And that’s when he finally pressed at the stone wall disguised as any other wall within your chambers, the stone gliding easily behind a tapestry on the wall as he stepped in, candles lighting the way as he huffed a breath, finally able to catch some fresh air after being in the narrow passages. Flicking the tapestry back into place, his feet immediately take him to the foot of your bed where your figure lay underneath the blankets.

Aegon felt something stir within him at the sight of you, locks of platinum hair splayed upon your pillows, eyes closed, chest breathing rhythmically as you lay on your side, a strap of your loose nightdress down on one shoulder, your exposed skin seeming to tease him as he stood there dumbfounded for a few moments. 

However, the remnants of the infuriating day he had ground him back to reality as to why he was here, sneaking into your chambers. Aegon found himself sliding underneath the covers behind you, the warmth of you immediately making him sigh, a comfort he had longed for throughout the day, contrast to the chill that had seeped in his bones. 

Slowly, his arm found its way around the curve of your waist, leaning in as he desperately wanted to just nuzzle against you, hot breath fanning on the back of your neck. “Wife…” He breathed softly, not wanting to startle you. He waited for a response, thumb absentmindedly running circles on your abdomen, he should’ve probably let you sleep- he was content with only laying beside you, but a selfish part deep within him wanted you to wake. 

In your sleep, you had already felt the bed dip from behind, stirring as you felt an arm drape around you, the hot whisper on your skin making you finally rouse, shifting as you felt the hold on you tighten as you turned your head, coming to your senses as you blinked traces of sleep from your eyes. 

Registering the presence, your brows knit. “Aegon?”

It wasn’t uncommon for you that he would often find his way into your chambers when he had his days. “Mhm, it’s me.” He replied, now noticing you were awake, he brought his hand back to rest on your waist from behind. 

“What happened?” You ask, as you always did. “I… couldn’t sleep. Mother was being… difficult again.” He responded hesitantly. “Did I wake you? Would you like me to go?” Typical of Aegon to dismiss himself easily when his mind would berate him for seeking comfort.

Aegon was already making the move to sit up and get off your bed when you sleepily turned and tried to grab at his hand or wrist, only to fall short and manage to grab at his tunics, tugging on it. “Hush, stay.” You mumbled and Aegon swallowed.

“Do not think this foolish.”

Slowly then Aegon allowed himself to fall back onto your bed, creaking in response.

Shifting, you layered a pillow behind your back leaning against the headrest, before grabbing Aegon’s arm and tugging him to lay atop you, something Aegon never did before but you tugging took him by surprise, laying on top of you as you looked down at him, his head moving to lay on your chest.

He was about to whine at the feeling of being coddled when his ear picked up on the sound of your steady heartbeat and it was enough to close his mouth shut, seeming to zone out as you slowly raked your fingers through his scalp, adding to the sensation in which Aegon sighed and screwed his eyes shut. 

“I am not good enough.” He murmured. “Never will be.”

“You are, Aegon.” You counter. Aegon huffed onto your chest, the action sending you flushed as his face was directly on your breasts. “You always have the chance to be good, mother does not see it yet but I know you are doing your best.” You continued, ignoring the way your heart began to pick up its pace as Aegon’s hot breath fanned through your nightdress. 

Oh you prayed to the gods he would not notice.

But Aegon clearly did, the thumping of your heart growing against his ear as he shifts his head, craning to look up at you. Your body felt suddenly hot. “You can be good, you are good… the crown is a heavy burden but it has placed itself upon your head, this is your chance to prove yourself.” 

Your words turn to a weak whisper as Aegon’s eyes trailed from your eyes to your parted lips, your chest starting to rise as he spoke whilst his eyes stayed glued to your lips. “You think so, sweet sister?” He asked, now his eyes flickered back to yours and there was a hint of vulnerability and… hunger to them. 

His body pressing against yours did not help as you could feel yourself start to throb, his gaze igniting something primitive within you. You tried to shift, needing friction between your legs- but it made Aegon groan, his gaze dropping momentarily.

Until you had felt something hard pressing against your leg. You swallowed thickly, the need starting to boil within you. You needed him. 

“Aegon…” You broke the silence and he let out a weak hum in response, he doesn’t seem to be doing anything as you felt like you were being consumed from the inside. 

He was holding back, you could feel it. 

Moving your hand, you tilted his face to meet yours, before you had given and leaned in, kissing him sloppily and inexperienced, it made Aegon’s brain shut as his brows knit, eyes closing as he let out a low groan, hand immediately moving to grasp the back of your head. 

Your hands began to roam around him, wanting to feel all of him but he pulled back for air, which you realized you were also out of breath, mind in a daze. 

Aegon’s gaze raked over you, he had held back for so long and this is the first night he was about to have you. Yet he doesn’t want it to be rushed or perhaps take advantage of you in the heat of the moment, his thoughts running as he stared at you.

“Aegon, please.” You said, your sweet tone sounding like the Seven heavens in his ears. 

You were getting increasingly frustrated, making the bold move to pull and push him down onto the bed, Aegon momentarily blinking in surprise, not expecting such an action to come from his sister-wife, taking the control away from him.

And oddly enough, it sent a thrill running down his veins and straight to his cock. 

He liked it. 

You swung your leg over him, straddling him as you could feel his throbbing cock directly against your damp underclothes, rolling your hips which had sent you both moaning at the feeling, Aegon’s hands landing on your hips to keep you still. 

“You don’t- we don’t..” Aegon tried to talk but the view and feel of you on top of him was making that very difficult as of now. 

“I want to.” The firmness in your tone was a contrast to his, Aegon was near to turning putty in your hands and you haven’t even near touched him yet. 

His nod made you move your hands to slowly lift off your nightdress, the moment it hit the floor, revealing your shape to him, no longer hidden by layers of fabrics, it was enough to make Aegon stare in awe. 

You felt hot under Aegon’s gaze as you moved to shield yourself but his hands caught your wrists, stopping as he sat up, making you shift yet still straddle him, his hardness still apparent and warm against your thigh under his tunics. 

“Fuck you’re..heavenly.” Aegon murmured, his hands still holding your wrists loosely but his eyes now drifted down your face to your tits, nipples perked. 

You took the initiative once more, your turn in grabbing his wrists before guiding them to your breasts, his rough palms slowly cupping them making you whimper, jolting and needing more friction as your body moved without you thinking, guiding his hands to cup and squeeze your breasts.

Aegon’s brain finally caught up with him as his hands moved to his own accord, oh you looked and felt heavenly he felt like he was already about to spill himself just by seeing you like this, taking control of him. 

Your hands then moved to his head, grasping and tugging at his hair, making him moan low as you then pulled him to you, wasting no time as Aegon lathered hot open mouthed kisses against your skin, leaving flames in their wake as you sung sweetly on top of him.

His mouth trailed down your neck to finally your breasts as he suckled and licked at your mounds, taking one in his mouth, sucking lewdly as you looked down at him, eyes meeting yours and you felt yourself overcome by the sight, nodding to urge him to keep going.

With a final suck, he pulled back, mouth letting out a pop sound as you shivered as the night breeze cooled his saliva on your breast. 

Moving to help him shrug him out of his tunics, you traced your hands down his torso, Aegon shuddering. “You’re so good.” Your praise was but a thought voiced, yet to Aegon, it had him melting. You can almost see the gears in his brain stop working as you realized this. 

Of course, as your mother had often degraded him most of his life, your father is present but nearly absent in caring for your siblings.

Just an ounce of praise had Aegon craving it like a man parched in the desert, willing to do anything to quench that thirst- to be able to hear you praise him again. Only you. Fuck anyone else. 

It was only you, his sweet sister-wife who mattered, who had always seen him, who always understood him, nobody would come close to you. He damn well would behead a man if one ever had thought of taking you away from him. 

Thank the Gods you married him. 

Leaning in, you peppered kisses onto his face, murmuring phrases all the way that had him grabbing your hips, feeling your soaked cunt rubbing against his stiff cock, sweet maiden juices leaking onto him but he doesn’t enter you. 

His neck craned to give you more access as you kissed him all over, his hands running up and down your sides, wanting to feel and take his time with you even if every fiber of his being cried to fuck you senselessly. 

No, you were in control of him tonight, or for any night that you wished, rather. 

“See how good you are..?” Your voice whispered into his ear, breath fanning stray locks of his platinum hair. Aegon whimpered. Even though you were a virgin and inexperienced, you were coming to learn the gist of it as you had went on… but there were more chances to explore further in the future.

“P-please.” Aegon whined, never in his life he had seen himself begging, yet you had changed all of that. Pulling back, you raked your fingers through his hair again, his head craning back.

“Look at me, Aegon.” Your tone wasn’t even commanding, it was gentle- however his eyes were quick to find yours again. 

You relished the control you had over him- but this was also him being vulnerable. You gave him a small smile as you spoke. “What do you want?” You asked. Aegon breathed and his mouth parts open, a squeak leaving as you also felt the need burning now deep in your stomach, your cunt throbbing. 

“Speak.” You followed, dragging your folds along his length, making you both shudder and for Aegon to grunt, squeezing your hips to halt you in order to clear his mind. 

“You- please- please let me fuck you, let me be inside you.” Aegon rephrased but it made you burn hotter nonetheless. 

If you were right, your hand reached down between your bodies, your soft hands wrapping around his shaft, your soft hands heavenly compared to the times he had touched himself to the thought of fucking you before, which he would not admit even if dared. 

Pre-cum was already leaking from him as he helped you, his own hand coming to guide himself against your folds, his reddened tip rubbing against your clit momentarily that had you clenching from the sensation. 

As he slowly positioned himself to breach you, his eyes found yours, your hands resting on his shoulders as you took a deep breath as his hands rested back onto your sides, rubbing as you slowly sunk down upon him, his cock sliding within you inch by inch, making you cry out as he bottomed fully. 

Aegon never thought he’d had your cunt clenching around him, sucking him in further making him shudder as he whimpered, nearing to burst if he moved further. 

Moving your hips, you slowly started up a rhythm, Aegon’s eyes screwing shut as you began to ride him, hands guiding you but mostly it was you who moved, his grip on your waist was but a grounding sensation for him. It truly felt like he was about to ascend from how good you felt, and you were all his. 

You felt yourself letting out noises you had not imagined before, the sensations of having Aegon sheathed within you was intoxicating, nails digging against his shoulders as Aegon returned his attention to your breasts once more, heightening your pleasure as you arched your back. 

A knot was forming itself in your belly, your muscles beginning to contract as you chanted Aegon’s name like a prayer. “You feel so good, Aegon!” You cry, whining as your hips seem to chase an edge fast approaching. 

“I’m- fuck– not gonna last long-” Aegon murmured now hotly against your neck, guiding you bouncing up and down his cock. “Please, please…” Aegon begged for your orgasm to hit so he could spill within you. 

And it did, making you gasp as euphoria filled your body, sending you shaking as bouts and waves of pleasure overtook you, clenching around Aegon’s cock as your body continued to tremble atop him.

Aegon soon followed as your peak triggered his own, pulsing within you and releasing his seed within you, having him whimpering and panting. You could feel yourself overcome with warmth as you both had come down from your peaks, bodies covered with light sheen of sweat.

You both had stayed there for a while, Aegon still sheathed within you as you both regained your breathing. Looking down at him, you brushed stray platinum locks that matted to his forehead, moving to peck his forehead and his cheeks, Aegon murmuring in turn as he gazed up at your beauty illuminated by stray candles and the moonlight. 

“Thank you.” Aegon rasped, making you smile down at him as you cupped his face, placing a tender kiss to his lips. 

After fixing and rearranging yourselves, not bothering to throw your clothing back on, only the blankets laid over you both as you laid face to face, your head against his chest, curled against him so peacefully. 

You had soon fallen asleep from exhaustion whilst Aegon had lied awake, thumb running over your side before it moved over to your stomach, no doubt both your labor would bear fruit. 

And when it did, Aegon had sworn it upon himself to be the good loving father he never had upon your child, and to be the good king the realm did not think he would be. All because of you.

i can fix him and fuck him.

18+ [logan x female!reader]

nobody can break through logan's walls with ease like you can. and he actually lets you, welcomes it even. he needs it to breathe and when he's ready to walk out of the gifted youngsters door, there you are again.

word count: 5,737

logan sulks. he’s so devoid of love and compassion that he sulks. he’s confused most days, too. unsure of who he is and what he even wants. the people who are somehow closest to him can’t even find their way past the fire breathing dragons that guard the drawbridge to his heart. (scott jokes that he doesn’t have a heart and that the adamantium replaced it and he’s fully pumping cold, hard metal).

logan is a man who answers to himself and doesn’t give people even the slightest chance to ask him a dumb fucking question because he’s not in the fucking mood. he’s never in the mood…unless you put him in one. usually a good one.

you earn a smile from logan as easy as the sun makes it seem to rise every morning and the moon to take its place at night. it leaves the team dumfounded. they believe if you weren’t here, logan would have left a long time ago. they’re right. logan used to search high and low for any excuse to leave. he never knew where he’d go, he’d just…go. but you didn’t dare let him out of your sight. not ever since the professor had brought you to what you call home a little over a year ago now.

deep down, he wanted reasons to stay. somewhere deep inside that metal frame…he wanted things to be right again. he’d find it tiring most days to carry around his grief and anger. but you gave him reasons to stay just one more day.

“so we’re working on that thing for charles together tomorrow right?” you asked on a wednesday, standing so cutely in the threshold of his door that it was almost annoying to him.

“so we’re catching that movie downtown with ororo and hank tomorrow right? it starts at 6!” you asked on a thursday.

“heeyyy, lo…do you possibly, maybe think you could sub for scott’s morning classes tomorrow? he has a dentist appointment…,” you shyly asked on a very late sunday night. (logan heard scott’s jokes about his heart so he made you ask. logan was the only one available.)

but behind his stoic stature and intimidating glare fixed on his face accompanied by knitted brows, he’d always say yes…to you. you were his reason for staying. he knew it but would never admit it. you knew it but played the oblivious part well. and the rest of the team would gossip about it when you two weren’t around. but as long as you were here, logan has nowhere else to be.

although as of late, you’ve been busy. much busier than usual. charles has you creating plans for a mission happening soon. when you’re not teaching mutant ethics 101 to freshmen, you’re hauled up in the lab or library; sometimes darting back and forth between the two multiple times a day leaving very little time to worry about logan.

tonight, you brought your work back to your dorm. as you cleaned up a rough draft of an exit strategy, rain began to tap lightly on the window. you had lit candles littered around the room as well as grouped on your table, a small desk lamp illuminated the surface further. as you reached up to stretch your aching back muscles, you were startled by the sound of a throat clearing.

your eyes shot to the sound at your door where logan stood, leaning against the frame; arms crossed and still like he had been glued to the spot. 

“hi lo,” you say. “y’scared me, heh.” you aren’t used to logan greeting you often, especially not this late. he’s over 150 years old, of course he’s grumpy and an early bird. you’re usually the one at his door with requests and invitations to social events he assumes can be nothing short of insufferable. he sighs, his stare dropping to burn holes in the ground. “logan, are you-“

“i think i’m gonna get out of here, bub.”

those words felt like an arrow hitting the bullseye in your chest and then another splitting the first one right through the center.

“wha-what do you mean?…you’re leaving?” you asked, confusion and frustration trembling in your voice.

“it’s too hard being here.”

with that, you stood up from your chair, beelining to him. “c’mere,” you say hushed, pulling on his leather clad arm, trying to unfold them and get him out of the door frame. he doesn’t budge and you pull “the look” that you know he can’t say no to. “come sit with me please, lo.”

he unfolds his arms which allows you to grab his hands to lead him to take a load off on your bed. your bare feet pat on the hardwood floor as you quickly go back to close the door.

you walked back over to him, assessing his body language. ever since he let you use your mutation to “read him” a few months ago, you told him you’d never do it again without his permission. one gaze into his eyes and a touch of his skin and you could feel everything wracking around in his head. anxiety, rage, hate but love, pain. it was hard to feel just for a moment and your heart cracked knowing he was riddled with those feelings constantly.

but right now you couldn’t help it, he was slouched on the edge of the bed, his head dropping to rest in his large hands, and apparently ready to walk right out of the door. your powers are amplified with a touch and even more when you can look into their eyes. from a distance, you could feel a sense of unease and something else… a pressure…built up in your stomach as you surveyed your friend. it didn’t feel bad though…it felt familiar. a good familiar. you stopped reading him and did your best to shrug off the aching stomach feeling and care for your disheveled logan.

he wasn’t emotional, like ever. he hid all that, only showing you what you wanted to see; what he believed you wished him to be — happy, whatever that was. but that couldn’t’ve been farther from the truth. sure, you want him to be happy but also just whatever he wanted to feel, you wouldn’t suppress it or try to change it to fit some ideal of who people on the outside want him to be. yes, he was one of the meanest motherfuckers you had ever met but he was your mean motherfucker. (whatever that means because nothing has ever really been clear between you two).

you walked closer to him, forcing yourself in his diabolical bubble. you stood between his legs, removing his hands from his face to wrap them around your waist. you scooped your hands under his scruffy chin, pulling up to get a look into his bloodshot eyes. oh, he’d been crying.

“lo…,” you muttered. “why were you crying, wolv?” you slide a thumb across his cheek where tears had stained the skin. “why do you want to leave?”

he pulled his face away, breaking his stare with you. he dropped his head forward to rest on your stomach, wrapping his arms around your legs so his hands rested on the back of your thighs. he began to slowly rub the exposed skin of them that your very short night shorts didn’t cover. he lifted the hem of your shirt slightly to press his hot face into the soft, cool skin underneath. he hummed into it, allowing you to feel the vibration.

“logan,” you softly moaned his name under your breath. his fingers press firmly, inching closer to the crease in the skin where your ass meets thigh.

“is this okay?” he asks lowly, when he looks up for confirmation to keep going, you’re already looking down at him nodding. “say it’s okay for me to touch you like this, bub.”

“yes, keep going, logan,” you said curtly. in your voice there is a hint of need. you hadn’t been touched like this since jean’s christmas party, tipsy off spiked egg nog in the garden with a guy whose mutation was a very wet, long tongue. flirting with him seemed intriguing in the moment, but five minutes later, it rendered itself utterly useless due to user error. the sexual tension between you and logan is so potent it usually clears out a room. aside from accidental brushes of hands and quick looks at each others lips mid conversation, neither one of you has acted on it.

his hums turn to growls and soft whimpers as your hands ran through and tugged his hair. your fingers found their way to his nape, splaying out to grip the hair there in your fist. he managed to place a single kiss on the skin right above the elastic of your shorts before you pulled his head back to scrutinize his face.

“you don’t have permission to read me,” he groaned. before you could ask how he even knew that’s what you were doing he said, “you get this serious, focused look in your eyes. i can feel you in my head.”

“logan, what are we doing?” you ask, releasing his hair and stepping out of his bubble. 

his hands drop from the absence of your thighs onto his lap and his sighs frustratingly. 

“what do you mean?” he asks, admiring your body in the dim light with a semi pressing on the denim of his jeans through his boxers.

“i’m…not doing this with you…if you’re just gonna disappear from my bed before the fuckin’ sun comes up. i’m not doing this,” you said, with your hands on your hips.

he pressed his hands into his knees to push himself up to tower over you. he took two big steps forward and stood in front of you. his hand raised up to brush the back of his fingers across your cheek to cup it and rub his thumb over the warm skin. 

he pressed his lips to yours, skillfully allowing his tongue access to it. you let him. “i give you permission,” he moaned in your mouth. “read me. feel how i feel about you…how i’ve always felt about you.”

he welcomed the hesitant slip of your hands past his jacket and under his shirt, shivering and chuckling “mm, cold” into your mouth. you rested your cool touch on his hips and with his mouth obsessed with yours, you read him. 

your head dizzied instantly and the hair on the back of your neck stood up. you had never felt anything as strong as this. you could almost taste the colors in logan’s head. your heart dropped to your stomach like you were on a rollercoaster, feeling sick from adrenaline in the best ways. and then, returned that good familiar feeling. this time buried even deeper in your stomach, moving it’s way lower…and lower until logan was swallowing the noises escaping you. before you literally passed out, you dropped your hands and took back ownership of your lips and tongue. breathing heavily, you moved away from him to collect yourself.

a beat of silence followed by a heavy sigh and a “well, say something” from logan passed and you opened your mouth to speak before shutting it again.

that…was the best thing you had ever felt. no drug could compare to the euphoria that a minute of kissing logan could bring. you could practically feel yourself lubricating and your upper thighs unconsciously squeezed together as you scrambled to find thoughts.

there were none. your mind already dumb and wanting more of him…more of the feeling. your fists planted firmly on both your hips as if you were grounding yourself to the floor to avoid buckling. you eyed the ground, looked back up at him and forwarded with another heated, taking-in-each-others-breath kiss. your hands found their way to the same place gripping the hair on his nape to which he praised the tug with a moan. he supported your balance as your whines got more whiney and needy and your hands held onto him like life support.

“lay down,” he said into your kiss. it wasn’t really a command, more of a warning because he tossed you on the bed like unfolded laundry.

he stood over you as you collected yourself, darting your tongue out to taste the spit he left behind. you propped yourself up on your elbows to get a look at the man casting a shadow over you. without the sounds of pleasure exclaiming in each others mouths, your ears absorbed the comforting sound of the battering rain. a tree branch smacked the window as thunder rumbled outside.

logan took a moment to admire your presence. starting at the top, he gazed upon your hair that he associates with vanilla and roses and the times he’d touch himself wondering how it’d feel being wrapped around his hand and pulled.

as he removed his leather jacket, he took his time mentally undressing you. feeling even more pressure build in your clit, you bore your hips down into the mattress, rolling them in circles to stimulate the swollen nub. he beheld your tits, flicking his tongue over his bottom lip at the sight of your hard buds under your very thin, white tank top. he threw his heavy jacket to the side, letting it thud in a ball on the ground.

“you look so beautiful, sweetheart,” he said, deeply enthralled by your scantily clad figure laid out in front of him. unable to stop staring, you could see the bulge in his pants get larger and it ridiculously turned you on. with you making eye contact with the crotch of his jeans, he effortlessly unfastened his belt buckle. the metallic buckle clanked to the floor as his jeans and boxers pooled around his ankles. 

he stroked himself while he looked upon you. it was like you could read his mind, because you began to touch yourself. the twitch of his lips and darkening of his eyes validated your teasing. letting yourself drop back on the bed, you caressed your body for him. one hand occupied by cupping your tit and pinching and twisting your nipple while the other is exploring the wet spot left on your panties. not being able to handle eye-fucking you any longer, he dropped to his knees on the edge of the bed between your legs. logan hooked his arms under your knees, pulling you close which in your intoxicatingly lustful brain you found funny, so you laughed.

logan spread your thighs open so he could fit in between them to leave wet, sloppy kisses all over your skin. he nibbled here and there, earning soft hisses and hums from your parted lips.

kiss kiss nibble hiss mmm kiss hum nibble nibble bite kiss suck

he spent about a minute just doing that, leaving warm welts in his mouths wake. “i need these off of you, princess.” once he had kissed his way up to the elastic of your shorts, he snapped it. you nodded and he did the honor of pulling them down and flinging them across the room like he was opening presents on christmas morning. 

he let out an amused scoff as he ran his trembling hand down his face, caught between ecstatic disbelief at the sight of your black lace panties with little black bows adorning the seams. you mentally thanked your past self for slacking on doing laundry and only having your “special occasion” panties left to wear.

“d’you know how pretty you are,” he said. his eyes traced over every inch of you in excitement like you were artwork he stole from the louvre and made out like a bandit with.

his hand disappeared to slickly stroke himself, his mouth watering in anticipation for your taste. his chest heaves as he takes in the sight of you, studying every curve prettily laid out before him; thinking about every position he wants to see you in and every way he wants to please you. without another groan inducing thought, he lunged forward to press a kiss to your lips, his tongue demanding attention. you drink his breath like liquor becoming completely intoxicated by him. he needed this, he needed you.

“need…to taste…you,” he breathed in between kisses. with this mouth obsessed with yours, his hands caress your tits, his thumbing circles on one of the nubs while he’s pinching and pulling on the other. your head falls back and your neck rolls at the sensation, earning profanities from your pretty, swollen lips. your tit misses the hand that he proceeds to run down and up your thigh to locate the spot in your panties you were playing with a moment before. as he parts from your kiss, he’s hooked two fingers under the elastic, pulling those off swiftly.

you yelp when he pushes your torso down. you stare up at the decorative ceiling as he savors you, kissing and massaging your thick thighs. he’s enjoying playing with you as much as possible before allowing himself any pleasure. he wants your juice to cover his face…his neck…his arm…the bed…the floor too when he gets you to pop like a water balloon.

“logan…please, please,” you beg, pawing at his hair. you lift your head to watch the man between your legs taking in the sight and smell of your pretty, wet pussy. even in the dim light, he could see how much you ached for him. he not so secretly got entertainment from watching you lightly buck your hips up to his face and he would’ve let it continue but your pheromones became overwhelming for him; engulfing his head in it’s enchanting aroma.

like fresh pie on a windowsill, he was drawn into you. logan opened wide to swipe one flat tongued lick up your slit. he had one goal — to knock all sense out of you, to fully engulf you in pleasure. he wants you dumb and begging for him to stay right where he is — at the mansion and also all over you. 

logan audibly sucked and popped your clit in and out of his mouth, teasing the most sensitive bit. he’d suck and pop and then lick up your slick, repeating the act. one of his big hands reached up to cup your tit, pinching and twisting and circling. from his hair to the tit he wasn’t playing with, you clawed at whatever would ground you. being eaten by logan felt like floating above the stratosphere.

your wet soaked his beard and it only made him more horny, his cock dripping and throbbing in his fist. tasting you, inhaling you, winning pretty sounds from you, knowing he’s the one making you buck up and fuck his nose only made his appetite for you insatiable. he let go of himself to push his pointer and middle fingers into your needing pussy. you hissed and cursed. the thrill of him devouring you began to reach its peak. his fingers pumped relentlessly into you, curling them to stimulate your g-spot. moans, curses, the gushing of your wet cunt, his sucking and popping and vibrating moans mixed with the rain and thunder grumbling outside filled the dorm like mozart’s symphony no. 25.

he wanted to kiss you, so he did. with his fingers still coaxing an orgasm out of you, he shared the sweet taste. he got back on the bed with you, sliding his free hand under your back to push you up to further to see the mess you were making on the sheets.

“look at how good you’re taking my fingers,” he groaned, inching closer to your ear so you could hear his dirty language loud and clear. “you can come for me, baby.” he peppered a few kisses to your forehead, removing his hand from behind you so he could press it into your stomach. this only heightened the overwhelming wash of pleasure coursing through you.

“lo…logan, i’m-“

“fuck my fingers, baby. use them…oh that’s it…that’s it…i feel that clenching, c’mon you can do it for me. go big baby, make me happy.” his dirty mouth and sporadic clit circling and pumping in and out of you with his tireless wrist pushed you over the edge. you cowered into his neck, pulling on his white tank top and biting the salty skin below his ear as your pussy obeyed, erupting with your juices. out of breath and fucking dumb already, you could feel the wet soak the sheets under your ass.

logan pulled his fingers out of you, landing a light smack on your pussy before licking you clean off of his digits. you fell back on the bed, your arms above your head as you heaved and saw stars.

“‘m not done with you, princess.” he slid off the bed, still delighted by your taste and engulfed in your aroma.

“fuuuck,” you groaned. the pulsing lightning feeling spread throughout both legs as an effect of your rocking orgasm. logan was wicked with his tongue, a devious magician with his fingers and you were his sole audience member wondering about his tricks for sleight of hand.

he quickly tossed his tank, that had tug marks from your attempt to ground yourself, to the side, his muscles flexing under his skin. as he let your post orgasm, cock-dumb brain fog clear, he spit in his hand to fuck his fist. his saliva mixed with the pre-cum leaking from the head, he groaned and sighed heavily at the feeling of giving his dick some sort of relief. you, needy for another hit of him, propped yourself up on your elbows to watch the most delectable creature pleasure himself.

just the sight of him illuminated by candles and flashes of lightning outside as he gets off to how fucked out and dumb you look was enough to have you open up again and play with yourself. the sensitivity from your swollen nub required a delicate touch but your pussy ached, clenching around nothing. his knitted brows relaxed, eyes darting from your pretty face, to your tits, to your fingers rubbing circles where his mouth resided moments ago back to look longingly into your eyes.

“you’re gonna stay,” you said. your hand reached your mouth, your tongue swiping a lick up your middle and ring fingers, wrapping your lips around them to coat them in your saliva. “tell me you’re going to stay for me,” you elaborated. your wet fingers found your aching center.

“there’s no where else i want to be,” he answered. he paced closer to the bed where you laid, his dick basically making eye contact with you as he stopped a few inches away. “you’re mine, you know that?” he noticed your hand slow, “keep going,” he commanded. logan reached out to cup your face, tilting his head to get a look at you obeying his every request. “your face…your mouth…,” his thumb swiped across your lips as he spoke. “your body…your cunt.” he leaned down to kiss your mouth, leaving a string of spit attached to your lower lip. “your laugh…your heart,” he said kindly, his hand massaging your scalp. moans earned from his praise escaped you. “you’re all mine. is that okay with you, baby?”

you’re so bewitched by his aura and his subtle touches make your heart race so fast that you can’t do anything but try to maintain his torrid eye contact and nod.

“use your words, honey.” his thumb returned to the softness of your parted lips.

“i’m yours, logan,” you said, taking his thumb in and closing your lips around it. “if you’ll stay with me, i’ll be yours forever,” you breathed around his thumb, speaking from a mix of eager lust and the terrifying need for him to not to be an asshole, just once.

“i’m not going anywhere…i promise,” he said matter of factly before leaning back down to hungrily devour your kiss. “i need to…fuck you…now,” he cursed in between swallowing moans. 

“do what you want…i’m yours,” you said just clearly audible over the storm rumbling outside. you two shared eye contact so intense that you noticed his dick twitch from your peripheral. you took his dick in your drooling mouth, reaching up to squeeze the base of him. it twitched from the warmth, pressure and tongue swiping rhythmically around his angry, red tip. you kept yourself enveloped around his length, bobbing your head to hit your gag reflex. the added lubrication drove him crazy, his abs twitching under the toned skin of his abdomen. you moaned around him purely from the enjoyment you got out of having him stretch the corners of your mouth, feeling the sting from it. 

logan reached down with both hands to hold your head steady while he sped up thrusting into your throat. your gags and gasps for air, his praise and the storm filled the room beautifully. 

“fuuuck, baby, keep that throat open for me please,” he begged. his hands left their position to find a new one — one supporting his thrusting hips, the other petting your head. “oh, you look so fuckin’ pretty with my cock down your throat…you’re taking me so good, sweetheart.”

he pulled his dick out of your mouth to smack it on your face, complimenting how gorgeous you look. he kissed and licked the mess off of your mouth.

“mm, baby i need to know how good you feel.” with that, he rounded the bed to lay down. “c’mere, baby.” you turned around, crawling on all fours to obey him. his cock in its usual place to be, in his fist, leaks pre-cum in anticipation for you to smother it with your warm, clenching pussy.

“lay down,” he said.

“damn, yes sir,” you say, jokingly annoyed with all of his demands. you lay down next to him, your knees instinctively parting slightly. he lays on his side, resting his hand on your stomach, rubbing his large hand in flat circles.

“d’you know how long i’ve thought about this moment with you?” he asked, leaning in to kiss and suck the skin in the crook of your neck. you lustfully sighed at the sensation of his hot breath. his hand finds its way between your legs again, tickling and tapping at your slit. “i want you to read me the whole time i’m inside…can you do that?”

“are you—“

“yes i’m sure, i feel so fucking good right now and i haven’t even felt you. i want you to feel that and more,” he explains, pulling your chin in to taste the desperation on you.

before he came just from your kiss and rutting against the sheets, he hovered above you. his lips stayed attached to your chest, kissing lower and lower to suck a tit into his mouth, flicking your nipple with his tongue then biting softly on the nub. his hand disappeared from the side of your head to grab hold of his shaft, flicking his tip against your clit. his head dropped as he watched and listened to your slick coating his cock. he quickly swiped up and down your pussy trying to savor every fold and feeling. his brows furrowed, not being able to resist your warmth, he lined himself up with your hole, using his hand to guide just the tip into it.

“oh…fuck,” he groaned in excitement. he pushed in just a little more which caused you to hiss. his head shot up and eyes scanned your face for any sign of regret or unsureness. “are you okay? d’you want to stop?”

“no, baby,” you giggled, lifting your arms rest around his neck, one hand always finding a way into his dark locks. “just been a while…keep going, i’m okay.”

with your permission, he pushed in a little more. he let out a deep groan at the feeling of you stretching to form perfectly around him. you gasped, pressing a hand into his chest, feeling a similar sting to the one you felt in the corners of your mouth earlier. against his want to start thrusting his whole length into you, his went slow, watching your demeanor for cues to keep going.

“you feel…fuck…like it was made for me,” he said which caused the butterflies in you to flutter their wings even faster. “are you okay?” his chest heaved and his breath fanned your face.

“fuck me…please logan,” you said. your hands reached his hips, pushing them down onto you. without wasting another minute, he did. 

he bent your knee more to press it into your chest as his hips repeatedly slammed down hard, his balls smacking your ass. with one hand giving him better access by positioning your leg higher, the other cupped and squeezed your bouncing tit.

“oh my…fucking god,” you moaned. you had let the walls of your mutation down, allowing yourself to be flooded by not only your pleasure…but the love logan feels for you plus the absolute sheer euphoria that he was experiencing deep inside of your pussy. it coursed through your body like a steam engine leaving the station. it had felt like you had been brought to five earth shattering orgasms before the one that was bound to shake you again soon.

“you know you feel so good, look at that fuckin’ fucked out smile. can you feel it? can you feel how good you make me feel, baby? don’t stop readin’ me, princess. it’s all for you,” he praised for you to hear every word.

“holy shit…mm fuckin’…ahh!” your hands couldn’t help but find their way above your head, subconsciously reaching for the bed post for something to ground you again.

“here, baby, hold onto me.” logan grabbed your wandering wrist with his free hand, slapping your hand on his chest which you pressed into as if you were pushing him away. before your cock drunk mind could register what happened, he had flipped the two of you so you were on top. 

logan looked so fucking pretty under you. you took a second to breathe and take in the view before bending your knees to put yourself in a squatting position on his cock. you placed your hands on his heaving chest for support as you started to bounce your ass on him. ‘oh this is so fun’, the thought making you giggle in elation as you drilled down your hips, rocking them back and forth to feel him stimulate the deepest parts of you. his thumb bored into your clit, drawing circles on it. 

as you kept bouncing your wet pussy on him just how he liked, logan lifted his knees up behind you and pushed you back onto them. he moved his hand away from your clit and picked his head up to watch his dick disappear deep inside you. then, he spit. his saliva landed on your pussy and stomach. he went back to stimulating you, fully realizing how much that turned you on from the tight clench around him and the extra juice running down his ass onto the sheets under you two.

he, still playing with your clit, summoned your face closer to his with the middle and ring fingers on the other hand. once closer, he grabbed your neck to kiss your fiercely. 

“you’re my good girl, huh?”

‘mhmm’ was all you could muster with his hand around your throat and his hips still ramming his cock into your stretched out hole.

“use those words for me, baby. are…mm, fuck…you my good girl?”

“ye…sss, baby i’m your…good…oh my fucking…girl!!”

“open your mouth.” he fucking spit in it. you moaned tasting him again and feeling it on your face. “good…fuckin’ girl,” he complimented, kissing you and then squeezing your cheeks to spit on your tongue again. 

your body started to go limp and your eyes were practically glued together. you could feel the searing hot orgasm burning up inside. you could feel logan in a way that you never thought possible. everything. 

his love, his passion, his longing, his fear, his anxiety, his lust, his heart…everything was yours in this moment. high on his feelings, you let your head fall back coming undone on top of him.

“oh you’re so pretty…that’s pretty, baby, keep…fuck…use me, it’s all for you.” his words took you further and further into ecstasy. it was a really good fucking trip that you never wanted to end. the pain of his cock fucking you out and his grip clutching your skin like he’d fall off earth without doing so made you moan so intensely that not even the thunder outside could compete.

he could tell you were a few fucks away from collapsing but so was he. 

“baby…you keep clenching around me like that…i’m gonna fuckin’ fill you,” he said. you kept bouncing on it, wanting him to even feel a fraction of how he just made you feel. he closed his eyes trying to last as long as possible in the heaven that he found in you. his thumbs bore into your hips as he used them to ground himself.

“i want it, baby…fill your good girl up.” you leaned down to speak into his ear and then carry on kissing his neck, letting him claim your moans as trophies. 

“fuuuuck…fuuuck,” he moaned as his thrusting became sloppy and you weren’t bouncing as much anymore. his abs twitched again along with his face. 

SNIKT!!

you hissed at the cool metal of his claws against your skin and the feel of him throbbing severely inside you as he let himself paint your walls. you thanked him in pleased moans before falling on his chest. still semi-hard inside, he kissed the top of your head to which you looked up and he gave you a proper kiss. he let himself twitch out a few more dribbles of cum inside you before pulling his claws back in to carefully rub your back.

a few beats of silence went by as you listened to each others hastened breaths and the rain tapping the glass. 

“…i love you, logan.”

“i think you know how much i love you, baby,” he said, smugly remembering how you looked coming on his dick, further escalated by his letting you read him.

you two snuggled naked under the covers and as you laid on his chest and listened to his light snoring, you read him again. 

ease and silence…and love.

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!

🩷 my masterlist

🌟add yourself to my taglist to be notified when i post new fics!

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!)