Oh ... My God

i. the first encounter

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

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

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

word count. 3172

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What good thi–oof!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Who is Aemond?” you ask, curiously.

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

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

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

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

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

“She still comes by?” you ask.

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

Helaena stiffens at that, head hanging low.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The rest of the day passed quickly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This summer was certainly going to be interesting.

I CANT DO THIS ANYMORE

We Know That We Can Treat You Better Than He Can

Cregan Stark x Wife!Reader x Reader's Twin Sister

Tags: smut, incest, m/f/f threesome, oral sex (fem receiving), fingering (fem receiving), p. in v. sex

Your twin sister, Carra, is being neglected by her husband, Lord Royce - her pleasure especially. It breaks your heart to see her so upset and unfulfilled, and you have a wild idea on how to help her. But you need your lord husband, Cregan Stark, to help you help her.

Author's Note: This might be in the top three of my favorite oneshots I've written to date. I'm curious to know what y'all think! Also, Cregan Stark: Husband of the century, am I right?

“What’s he really like?”

You look over at your twin sister, Carra, who meets your gaze with curiosity. You’re sitting by the fire in the Stark family library, a book draped over your lap. She’s sitting by the widow, peering at the grounds of Winterfell below, not at all attempting to read any of the books she’s taken down from the shelves. 

“Who?” you ask, flipping to the next page of your book.

Carra rolls her eyes playfully. “Your lord husband, dear sister.” She gives you a smile from across the room.

You knew she was asking about him – you can practically read each other’s minds, you’ve always been able to do that – but you wanted to be sure.

“He’s a good man,” you say with a gentle shrug of your shoulders, shifting in your seat. The two of you have been up in the library for a few hours now, and your back is growing stiff from sitting for so long. “He’s quiet, kind, and loyal.”

Carra crosses her arms and stands, walking over to you before sitting in the opposite chair by the fire. “No,” she says softly, holding your gaze. “I mean, what’s he like.”

You inhale deeply, understanding her meaning and feeling yourself blush ever so slightly. But she’s your sister – your other half – and you’ve never kept secrets from each other. 

“He’s loving and giving, and he has the stamina of a hunting hound,” you say with a light laugh. “He does whatever he can to please me.” You fold the book in your lap closed, and set it on the small table beside your chair, before turning your attention back to her. You give her a small smile. “Why do you ask?”

She shrugs gently, mirroring your earlier movements. “My husband isn’t like that. He doesn’t seem interested in my pleasure.” You don’t miss the hint of sadness in her voice; you know her too well.

“I’m sorry, Carra. I know mother and father promised that Lord Royce would be a good match for you. It pains me to hear that you aren’t happy.” You give her a sad look, and she returns it, your mirror image looking back at you.

“Thank you,” she says quietly, looking down at her hands in her lap for a moment before looking back up at you.

“Has he ever made you…climax?” She asks, before quickly adding, “My handmaiden told me about it, but my husband has never made me feel anything that she’s described.”

You take a deep breath before nodding. “He has, every time we’ve lain together. With his tongue, his fingers, his cock… Sometimes all three in one night.” You watch her face fall a bit, but you can tell she has more questions.

“What does it feel like?” She leans back against the chair, her long hair caressing her shoulders, just like yours does.

You pause for a moment, thinking. “It’s hard to describe… It’s the most exquisite pleasure imaginable. Wave after wave of it, rippling through your body, filling you up. It makes you feel like you’re floating, and like nothing else matters in the world except you, your husband, and your love.”

She nods, gently worrying her lower lip with her teeth. “I suppose I’ll never know then,” she states quietly, looking at you with a sorrow that makes your heart ache.

And then a thought crosses your mind – a mad thought – but she’s your twin sister, and you are loath to see her upset and neglected. And you’ve shared everything with her your whole life.

“He would show you, I think…if I asked him to,” you say, your words quietly echoing off of the stone walls. She meets your eyes, and you can see a spark of hope flicker in them before she shakes her head gently.

“You’re so kind to me, my darling sister. But I could never–Cregan is your husband.” But you can tell that’s not the answer she really wants to give.

You lean forward and reach out to take her hand in yours. “He loves me, yes, but he loves you too – you mean a great deal to him because I love you so much. If he knew you were being neglected like this…”

She squeezes your hand gently, her eyes searching your face. “You really think he would?”

You nod, giving her a smile. “He might need some convincing at first, but when have you and I never accomplished something we put our minds to?”

She lets out a light laugh – the one you know sounds just like yours – like chimes gently playing in the breeze.

“Would you…stay with me? I don’t know what to do or say. I don’t know him like you do.” She looks even more hopeful, and it makes your heart swell. You do love her so very much.

“Of course. We will show you the pleasure you’ve been missing and so very much deserve.”

She swallows, and you can see a flush creep up her skin. You feel the same thing happening to you – an arousal curling through your veins like smoke at the thought of showing your twin sister that kind of pleasure. Now that the thought has crossed your mind, it will be impossible to forget.

She crosses her legs, but rubs her thumb over the back of your hand, an irresistible tension now simmering where your hands are connected.

“Tonight then,” you murmur, eyes searching her face.

She nods, a small smile tugging at her lips.

You hear the handle of the door leading to your chambers turn, and you glance over at Carra, seated in front of the fire, much the way you two were in the library earlier.

“My love, I’ve missed y–” Cregan says as he steps through over the threshold, but stops when he notices Carra seated to your right. “Oh, I’ll just–”

“No, my love, please. Come,” you say, standing and quickly walking over to him, your silk nightgown swishing against your legs. You curl your hand around his forearm and gently shut the door behind him, and then stretch up on your toes to place a kiss on his cheek. He glances down at you, and then at Carra, and then back at you, confusion settling across his handsome face.

“What–”

“We have something we’d like to ask you,” you say gently, tugging on his arm and leading him over to the bed, and encouraging him to sit on the edge of it.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, eyes flicking between the two of you again as Carra stands and makes her way over to the two of you.

You shake your head, taking his hands in yours. “Nothing is wrong. Well, something is wrong. Lord Royce is neglecting Carra most terribly.”

Concern crosses his features now, his eyebrows knitting together. “Does he hurt you, Carra?” He asks quietly, looking at her.

“No, Cregan,” she says gently, looking down at her feet, and then back up at him. “But he does neglects me and my…needs.” She glances at you, her eyes asking for help.

Cregan follows the exchange – he’s the most hawkish man you’ve ever met – and his eyes lock with yours again, his head tilting to the side, his eyes full of questions.

“My love, Carra’s husband has never shown her the pleasure a wife ought to know. He’s never treated her the way you treat me… We’re hoping you could show her,” you breathe into the stillness of the room. It’s so quiet, save the gentle crackle of the fire in the hearth.

“My darling,” he whispers, clearly unsure of how to respond, his eyes quickly flicking to Carra and then back to you.

You step between his legs and gently drop his hands to cup his face instead, looking down at him. You hope he can see the hope on your face – the want to help your sister, and for him to help you do that.

“Cregan, my love, please,” you murmur, your thumbs gently caressing his cheeks. You feel his jaw muscles flex as he swallows thickly, hearing the plea in your voice. “She’s just like me,” you whisper.

You see a thought flicker across his features – and you know it’s the thought of two of you. And similar to how you felt earlier that day, once the thought has crossed his mind, you know it’ll be hard to shake. And he’s a caring man, always striving to help and do right by those under his care. Right now, both his wife and his sister-in-law are under his care.

You drop your left hand to reach out for your sister, and she takes it, stepping to your side, her own nightgown gently brushing against Cregan’s legs. 

He turns his head in your hand to look up at her. “Are you sure?”

She nods, giving him a shy smile. “I’m sure if you are.”

He looks at you once more, eyes searching for any sign of your own hesitation. You give him a smile and nod. Seeing none, he nods too. “Okay,” he says quietly, and he gives you both a shy smile of his own, clearly trying his best not to feel too overwhelmed by your request. 

He slowly pushes himself off the bed to stand, looming over the two of you and breathing deeply, seemingly hesitant to make the first move. You stretch up on your toes again to kiss him, soft and languid, silently thanking him as your lips move over his. Instinctively, his hands lift to hold your waist, gently pulling you towards him. You smile into your kiss and then carefully lift his hands to your breast, encouraging him to pull at the strings of your nightgown. He does, with nimble fingers for such a large man, until the thin fabric slips from your shoulders and pools on the floor at your feet.

He pulls away gently and lets out a pleased sigh, as he always does when you stand naked before him, his expression so full of love and desire. You give him a similar look, biting at your lower lip, and then looking over at your sister. She too has seen you naked many times – perhaps more than Cregan – for you’ve bathed together, and gotten dressed and undressed together, for years. But now, her eyes sweep over your form too, as if she’s never quite seen you before.

Cregan looks at her too, and they lock eyes, and he lets out a shaky breath. 

“Carra’s turn, my love,” you murmur, and he steps towards her, slow but steady, clearly wanting to make sure she’s comfortable. 

He carefully lifts his hands to cup her face, before leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead. She lets out a shaky breath of her own, and then tilts her head up as he tilts his down, meeting for a soft kiss. Your heart swells and beats rapidly at the same time, watching him with her like this – the two people you love the most in this world.

After a moment, his long, calloused fingers slip gently down her neck and shoulders before slowly tugging at the laces of her nightgown, his knuckles grazing her breasts. She lets out a soft sigh from being touched with such tenderness and reverence – the way he always touches you.

Like yours, her dress falls down her body into a heap on the floor, leaving her to stand bare before him, a mirror image of you. His chest rises and falls rapidly, and he turns to look at you as you close the gap between your body and his, sliding your hands around his middle and kissing his back. You can feel his rapid heart beat thrumming against his ribcage as you slowly tug his tunic to untuck it from his trousers. Carra, always on the same page as you, reaches up to pull at the laces of his shirt, making it easier for the two of you to tug it up and over his head. He lifts his arms too, helping you toss the shirt on the floor, on top of your nightgown. 

You move around to his front, standing next to Carra, and lift your hands to touch his chest – feeling his smooth, but searing hot skin beneath your palms. Carra follows your lead, trailing her own hands over him, and you know she feels him shiver as her fingertips graze over one of his nipples. 

He smiles down at both of you. “Will you lay down for me?” He asks gently, eyes flicking back and forth between the two of you. You both nod, and climb on the bed, laying down to look at him standing before you at the foot of the bed. It doesn’t seem lost on him that Carra has chosen to lay on his side of the bed, unbeknownst to her. 

He swallows thickly, eyeing the two of you, as he slowly unbuckles his belt and unlaces his trousers, letting them and his small clothes drop from his hips. He makes quick work of tugging his boots and socks off too, and then the rest of his clothes, before straightening back up. You savor a moment to take him in in all his glory, his thick cock hanging heavy between his muscular thighs, making your mouth water, before you turn to look at Carra. 

She’s watching him while taking steadying breaths, clearly in awe too – as if she’s never seen a man like this before. And perhaps she hasn’t, for her husband stands in no comparison to the Wolf of the North before the two of you. You see a flush creep down her chest and her legs slowly slide against each other, her core clearly aching as she takes him in – a feeling you know all too well.

You look back at him and see a similar flush of red spreading down his chest and stomach, clearly not used to being the object of desire for two women at once – especially women he cares about deeply.

And then he looks at you, his gray eyes asking, What next?

“I think you should pleasure Carra first, my love,” you say, sitting up and reaching for him. He holds out his hand and lets you pull him up onto the bed. “With your mouth, like you know I love.”

He kneels between the two of you, and looks at you for a moment and then to Carra, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Of course, if that’s what you’d like,” he says to her, his voice coming out a little gravelly, thick with arousal. You love hearing him like this.

She nods, a little shyly, but she gives him a small smile too, clearly wanting him to know that she’s only a little nervous, but does indeed want this. 

He nods, and then leans over to give you a kiss, sweet and breathless – likely trying to steel his own nerves. And then he moves away, carefully crawling over your sister until his face hovers above hers, while you lay down on your side to watch them. They look at each other for a heartbeat, and then he dips down to kiss her, his brown tresses fanning around her face. She stretches up into the kiss, and then lifts her hands to tenderly push back his hair, drawing a soft moan from him as her fingers slide against his scalp. He’s always loved that feeling.

It makes her moan too, and he deepens the kiss, evidently wanting to show her everything he can – to treat her how he’d treat you. He goes slow, licking into her with a deliberate pace and letting her catch up to match his movements. He’s always been so patient and thoughtful like this.

After a few more moments, he breaks the kiss to let her breathe, for she’s clearly not used to this. She gasps gently, and then gasps again when he resumes his kisses, this time trailing his lips down her neck and chest, open-mouthed and wet, using his tongue and his lips to bring her pleasure. He spends some time sucking on her breasts and nipples, making her arch in pleasure as his tongue plays with the taut peaks, making her moan softly and clutch at his biceps. You wonder if her moans sound just like yours to him. It’s an arousing thought, but you stay quiet for the moment, not wishing to interrupt her pleasure. And you’re finding your own pleasure simply by watching them.

He lowers his hips a bit too so he can get closer to her, and you glance down to watch the tip of his cock drag over her hips and thighs, leaving a glistening trail of precum in its wake. You know the feeling of his hot length teasing over your skin like that – anticipation, and want of it and all of him, making you clench around nothing – and wonder if your sister feels it too.

He’s kissing down her stomach now, and carefully slotting his legs between hers as his lips brush over her hips. He gently nips at her hip bone too, making her gasp and then laugh gently at his playfulness. He grins up at her, and then at you. You can’t help but grin back, so pleased with him and all the effort he’s putting into this, for her and for you.

His attention turns back to her as his kisses move lower still, over the cleft of her cunt, and then teasingly, over her inner thighs. He’s always loved to tease just a little bit, making you, and now her, crave even more what you know is coming next.

But you’re not sure she does know, for the pleasurable gasp she lets out when he kisses her core, and then flicks his tongue through her folds, lapping up her wetness, tells you that no man has ever done this to her before. You slowly sit up, drawn to where his face is nestled between her thighs, and slowly shift down the bed, laying on your stomach and resting your head in your hands, so close you could almost kiss her hips.

Cregan curls his arms underneath her thighs, laying down on his stomach as well, and gently drapes her legs over his shoulders before resuming what you know she now craves with every fiber of her being, if she truly is anything like you. Her gasps turn to moans and her fingers card through his hair, clearly needing something to hold onto, and you know he loves it. Her eyes are squeezed shut in pleasure, and when you glance back down, your eyes meet his. He tilts his head so he can look at you better while he presses his tongue into her, licking deeply while you watch him.

You can’t help but speak – you have so many questions.

“Does she taste like me?” You breathe, holding his gaze.

He moans and nods, and you know your question has taken him by surprise too. His moans also take your sister by surprise, reverberating through her body in a way that you know feels incredible. She gasps in pleasure.

“Does that feel good, Carra?” You ask, leaning down to place a featherlight kiss to her hip.

“Gods, yes,” she breathes, arching into his touch. “Cregan, please don’t stop,” she begs, and you already know he’d never dream of doing that, not until he has her body singing with pleasure. That’s always been his way.

As if to answer her, he gently spreads her thighs even more, and then flicks his tongue over her pearl, swirling her own wetness over it before sucking on it too, bringing her to a whole new level of pleasure. She moans and then whines, arching into his mouth, her hips chasing this incredible new feeling. You watch him smile, for he knows he’s doing this right and he’s always loved to please you – you know he must feel the same about Carra now too. He keeps playing with her pearl, and his eyes flick back to you as one of his hands slide down from her thigh, disappearing between her legs. And you watch him glance between your face and hers as he gently presses a finger inside her, his tongue still swiping over her pearl. 

You look up to make sure she’s okay, wanting this to be nothing but pleasurable, and you know it is from the look on her face. She locks eyes with you, bliss fanning over her features. She reaches down a hand to hold yours, and you lace your fingers together, and then lean down to kiss her hand. 

“Do you like that?” You ask, smiling up at her.

She nods, and then gasps, and you can tell simply by her reaction that he’s added a second finger and that it feels incredible. It breaks your heart that she’s never felt this, and you kiss her hand again and then look at him, giving him a look of gratitude. You watch a look cross his face, and you know it’s one of love – wanting to make sure both of you are happy and taken care of. This is a role that fills him to his core, and you didn’t realize how much this would mean to him too. It makes you ache with love for him.

But he’s not done, far from it. He sucks on her pearl and then picks just the right moment to curl his fingers inside her, beckoning her orgasm to come to him. It’s breathtaking to watch the way he knows just what to do, and the way he’s taking special care to make this as wonderful for her as possible.

“Cregan, oh gods. Like that,” she moans, her hand gripping tighter around yours as her other slips through his hair. “Please, please, just like that.”

And he gives her exactly what she wants, stroking her sweet spot in a way that you know you could never do yourself, and neither can she. His fingers are so long, and he’s just too good at it. Once, twice more, and then he says, “Come for me, Carra. Let go for me, beautiful.”

She stills in his and your hands, and then cries out, her pleasure peaking and then washing over her in waves, her body writhing in bliss. He continues to stroke inside of her, and kiss her pearl, drawing every last ounce of pleasure her body can give, before she’s whimpering from overstimulation, filled completely by bliss. You watch him slowly draw his fingers from her, drenched in her wetness.

She looks at his hand too, and then at you, and you have a wild thought. You sit up quickly and then reach for his right hand, bringing it to your mouth to suck on his fingers, licking them clean.

He moans, and so does Carra, both of them a little shocked and very aroused. You lock eyes with Cregan as your tongue swirls around his digits, and watch his eyes darken with desire as he tries to catch his breath. When they’re clean, you pop off and then look at your sister, who’s been watching you in awe.

“You taste so good, sister,” you murmur, and then kiss her hip before sliding up next to her until you’re face to face. She’s blushing a deep red now, from everything, and also trying to catch her breath as she turns her head to look at you, your faces just a hair’s breadth apart. And then she closes the gap, kissing you softly. It’s different from Cregan – the only other person you’ve kissed. Her mouth is smaller, like your own, and her lips are silky soft. You lean into the kiss for a moment, breathing her in, and then you both pull apart to look at Cregan, still resting on his elbow between Carra’s thighs.

The look on his face is something you’ll never forget – so aroused and so in awe that he seems frozen in place, likely unsure if either of you are real and if this is all just a dream. 

“Husband,” you say softly, and his eyes meet yours, his chest still rising and falling rapidly, his arousal not letting him catch his breath. “Do you think we can make Carra come again?”

He blinks slowly and then nods, a small smile spreading across his face. And then he speaks, his voice low and husky. “I want to make both of you come together.”

Pleasure rushes up your spine and your core clenches around nothing, the wetness between your thighs starting to drip at the thought of him giving both of you pleasure at the same time. You nod with a smile, and then look back at Carra, and she nods too before leaning in to kiss you once more, short and sweet.

Cregan groans softly, regaining the attention of both sisters. “I’m not going to last long if you keep doing that,” he says with a breathless laugh, smiling too.

You giggle, and then sit up fully to crawl across the furs to kiss him, deep and languid, just like you both love to do. He sighs into your kiss, his hand coming up to gently brush your hair behind your ear, his other hand caressing your sister’s hip. When you part, you lightly trail your fingertips down his lips and chin, still wet from Carra, and you feel him shiver. It makes you shiver too with anticipation and excitement.

Then he pushes himself to sit up and slide off of the high bed to stand at the foot of it, his cock heavy and leaking. Carra sits up too, both of you waiting for his next move with baited breath. Instead of moving right away, he takes a moment just to look at the two of you, evidently admiring your beauty as his eyes sweep over your faces and the curves of your bodies. It makes you and your sister bite your lips, and he cocks his head to the side with a smile, clearly enjoying your identical reactions. 

When the three of you have looked your fill, he leans forward to place his large hands on the bed, his palms sliding over the furs, and he looks at your sister.

“Come here, Carra,” he requests softly, and she crawls to him, stopping when they are eye to eye and sitting back on her heels, her hands resting on her thighs. He leans in to kiss her, slow and sweet as honey, and she sighs happily. “May I show you even more pleasure?” He husks between kisses.

She nods, and reaches up to caress her hand along the line of his jaw, feeling his strength under her fingertips. “I would like that,” she murmurs, giving him a coy smile. He smiles back at her, and then leans even closer, his one arm curling around her waist to help her settle down on her back. When she’s comfortable, he gently tugs her to him, her bum near the edge of the bed. He gingerly rubs his hands over her thighs and shins, leaning down to place kisses on her knees too. You love watching him like this – taking his time, and making her feel special and wanted.

“My love,” he says softly, pulling you from your thoughts. “Come here.”

You crawl to him, as your sister did, and then kneel next to her side. He leans over her to kiss you too, also placing tender kisses on your cheeks, before pulling back to look at you. It makes butterflies flutter in your belly, for he’s so loving but you’re also wondering what he has planned for you and your sister.

“Can you straddle Carra’s hips, facing her?” He asks, his hand trailing down your skin, the pads of his fingers teasing around one of your nipples. You let him continue that for a moment, moaning softly, as Carra also skims her fingertips up your thighs, seemingly mesmerized.

And then you nod, following his instructions, and carefully climb over your sister, your knees hugging her hips. You place your hands next to her sides, and look down at her with a smile. 

She looks up at you. “You’re so beautiful,” she murmurs, her hands traveling up your arms before sweeping your hair to one side so she can see you better.

“So are you,” you reply, grinning at her. She grins back, realizing she must look so very like you in this moment. And if you’re gorgeous, she must be too.

“Both of you are perfect,” Cregan says, folding Carra’s legs more securely around his waist, and leaning forward to place kisses on your backside and lower back. You fold down even more, bracing yourself on your forearms, your ass on even more display for him. 

“Fuck,” he breathes, his right hand trailing all over your ass and thighs. You can hear the desire dripping in his deep tone and it makes you shiver.

Then Carra lets out a gasp, tilting her head back into the pillows. You tilt your head down, looking back between the two of you, to watch him take himself in hand and tease his tip up and down through her folds. It’s such an erotic sight, and you can’t help but continue to watch. It makes your own wetness drip down your thighs.

But then you’re the next to gasp as his fingers start to do the same thing to your soaked cunt, slipping into your wetness, and teasing up and down, making pleasure ripple through your body. You rest your head on your sister’s chest and rock back into his fingers, wanting more. Carra’s hands caress your cheeks, your neck, your shoulders, clearly feeling the same way, for you can also feel her rock her hips beneath you, chasing the pleasure Cregan’s giving her.

“You look so good like this, Cregan,” she says with a moan. “That feels so good.”

He groans softly in response, mesmerized by the two women in front of him, ready and wanting.

“How does this feel?” He husks before pressing two of his fingers into you, making you gasp. She does the same as he presses his cock into her, sliding into both of you at the same time. You lift your head to look at her beneath you, her head tilted back again in pleasure as she takes more and more of him into her. You know what that feels like, the delicious stretch and urgency to be filled by him as much as possible. You are getting just a taste of what your sister is feeling via his fingers, which he swirls around inside you, brushing perfectly against your walls as he opens you up.

“Gods, Cregan,” you moan, canting your hips back into his hand, taking his fingers down to the last knuckles, making him moan too. As you listen to him and feel him, you also lean down to kiss your sister’s neck. She arches up into your touch but then down into Cregan’s too. It’s as if her body can’t decide which pleasure to chase – his or yours.

You brush your lips up her neck and then trace the shell of her ear with your tongue. “How does he feel?”

“Incredible,” she breathes, moaning softly as her hands slide up and down your sides, gripping onto your soft skin.

“He does feel incredible, doesn’t he?” You ask, pushing up a bit to look over your shoulder at him. The sight of him is breathtaking. The muscles in his abdomen and his arm flexing as he fucks in and out of both of you, his cock and fingers following the same steady rhythm. His brown tresses are disheveled from you and Carra carding your fingers through it, and there’s only a small sliver of gray left in his eyes, for they’re hooded but blown wide with arousal. He looks at you with such desire, such love, such devotion, that it makes pleasure rush up and down your spine. Your heart beats so fast you’re sure it might leap from your chest. He’s looking at you, and your sister, like he can never get enough of you.

“It’s the two of you,” he groans lightly, “that feel incredible. You’re so perfect for me.” 

“Does she feel like me?” You ask, smiling back at him for a heartbeat before he’s making you, and her, moan again. He crooks his fingers inside of you, curling his fingertips down towards your belly button, brushing over your sweet spot in the way he knows drives you wild. For Carra, he picks up the pace of his thrusts, driving faster and deeper into her, and also rubs his fingers over her pearl. 

“She feels just like you, my love – absolutely perfect.”

At hearing this, Carra arches up into you again, and you press down into her, sliding back further across her silky skin to meet Cregan’s thrusts. You find her breasts with your lips, kissing and sucking on them, desiring this so much that it makes you flutter around Cregan’s fingers. Your tongue and lips find her nipples too, playing with them until they’re taut and glistening, and she’s arching high off the bed with bliss.

“Gods, oh gods,” Carra moans, starting to shake beneath you as you and Cregan continue to lavish her with pleasure. You try your best to focus and not get lost in the bliss that Cregan is giving you with his fingers too.

“Will you come for us again, darling sister?” You breathe into the valley between her breasts, making her arch up even more into your lips. 

It’s at this moment that Cregan’s thumb finds your pearl, rubbing it perfectly as he pumps his fingers in and out, mirroring what he’s doing to Carra. You moan loudly, burying your face in her chest and start to shake as your pleasure builds in your core. 

He doesn’t let up, quickly bringing you both to the edge of desire, the two of you becoming moaning messes before him, his own breathy moans mixing with yours. For a split second, you wonder if she orgasms just like you – if she sounds like you, if she’ll clench around his cock like you do, if she’ll like it when he spills inside her like–

But Carra’s peak washing over her cuts off your thoughts, for she cries out so deliciously, her spine arching high off the bed, and then she writhes beneath you in pleasure. It’s so erotic to watch her, and feel her hot skin beneath yours, sliding against your body. Her hands grip tightly to your shoulders for a moment, until she lets go and finds your eyes as Cregan continues to pump in and out of both of you. The blissful look on her face – the bone deep pleasure – and the feeling of Cregan’s hand moving so perfectly for you makes your orgasm rise up in you and then break in wave after wave of pleasure. You cry out into her chest and flutter around his fingers, driving back hard into his hand. It feels so incredible, and she holds you through it, her soft arms curling around you as your pleasure reaches every fiber of your being.

Then suddenly, Cregan’s fingers are gone. You whine from the loss for a split second, only for your empty cunt to be filled by his cock plunging into you. His fingers curl around your hips too, pulling you to him, making him drive even deeper into you. Moans replace your whine – nothing, nothing, could ever feel as good as him, pumping in and out of you, his length throbbing inside of you. Your perfect husband.

“Cregan,” you cry out, and that does it for him. He spills inside you with the most delicious groan, his hot seed coating your walls and his tip nearly kissing your womb. You collapse even further into Carra and clench around Cregan, milking him for every drop that he can give you, and drawing his orgasm and pleasure out as much as possible. You can feel him shaking behind you, from pleasure and exertion. The two of you pant, trying to catch your breath, and Carra strokes your cheek, in complete awe. 

“Did that feel good, sister?” Carra asks with a smile, her thumb rubbing gentle circles into your skin.

“Perfect,” you say, turning your head to kiss her palm and then looking over your shoulder at Cregan. The two of you share a knowing smile, both of you hoping his seed takes and you can finally have the baby you both have always wanted. 

He leans forward to drape his torso over yours, his hands resting on the bed on either side of Carra, kissing your shoulders and neck. It feels so good – everything feels so amazing.

And then he gingerly pulls out of you, placing one last kiss on your back, and one last kiss to Carra’s knee, before climbing up onto the bed and laying down on his back, next to Carra. He motions for you to lay next to him on his other side. You do, and both you and your sister snuggle into his chest, facing each other as he curls his arms protectively around the two of you.

You watch him turn his head to press a tender kiss to Carra’s brow, and then he turns to do the same to you, before settling back against the pillows and closing his eyes.

“Sister, perhaps the next time you visit can be in the autumn, late enough that you might get stuck here for months on end due to the snow,” you say playfully, your fingers playing with her own across his chest.

“Gods be good,” Cregan murmurs with a chuckle, opening his eyes again to look down at the pair of you.

Carra laughs lightly, but then adds, “I don’t think my lord husband would let me be gone for that long.”

“He will if I command it so,” Cregan says, looking down at her with a smile. You can tell that she understands that he means what he says, and she grins up at him, and then at you.

“I would like that,” she says, her bright smile mirroring your own.

“We would too,” you agree, pulling her hand even closer to you across his chest, and kissing her fingertips, before the two of you snuggle even deeper into Cregan’s strong arms, satisfied by everything tonight, and excited for what’s to come. 

Moots and Cregan Wives Taglist ❤️:

@princessvelaryon @sylasthegrim @vividxpages @bucksplum

@eldrith @cregnstark @onebrainsel

@helpmedecideaname @lv7867 @mckennah123 @valardohaeriss @janniepark1997

I SWEAR THIS MAN-

HOW????

i think they cast Luke perfectly. the Charming Blonde Sporty Jock fit his role as this aspirational heartthrob (misleading and intentional) in the mid 2000s. now he's a brown-eyed prettyboy with soft hair. the tiktok star. he's absolutely perfect for this new audience.

Lord save me🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠

Why is he so gorgeous and perfect

‼️‼️‼️‼️

Give It To Me .

Dark! Luke Castellan x nymph! Reader

Content warning . Non-con, minor predator/prey themes, squirting

You sigh as your toes are enveloped in cold, crystal clear water. Making your way into the pond, you’re thankful none of the other nymphs had followed you here.

Sure, it’s fun to swim with the others. At camp Half Blood, you’ve made a lot of new friends that are just as appreciative of the earth as you. But sometimes you need a moment to yourself— a moment with nature and its elements.

Your clothes are discarded— this is your hiding spot deep in the forest, after all. It’d be a wonder if someone found it. It’s as if it was made just for you.

You spend a great deal of time in the waves, resting against a giant boulder peeking out of the water, relishing in the cool breeze moving through. You giggle at the fish tickling your ankles because they’re always quite fond of you.

You enjoy your swim so much that for a second you don’t hear the sound of another.

It’s the noise of a belt buckle clinking that makes you turn your head towards the shore. You peek out over the surface of the water, and on the shore you see the figure of a tall male.

He seems to be going for a swim. He peels his shirt off, then slips his jeans down to his ankles and throws them on the ground somewhere behind him. He steps into the water, slow, emitting a small sigh as it envelopes him. He wades forward and then relaxes against the waves.

Your eyes glaze over.

You want to move. Your body stays behind the rock , however, to admire him for a moment more.

He’s an interesting half blood. Not like the others— older, with dark, raven like hair, pretty doe eyes, and a very fit body. He’s incredibly handsome, and something tugs in your chest.

You move by instinct, and it makes a splash. Your body freezes up in fear. The boy whirls around, surprised by the sound of another ounce of life in the empty pond. You peek over, praying he doesn’t see you as he makes his way towards the rock.

But to no avail. His eyes catch yours, then, and a feeling like butterfly wings twirls in your tummy.

“I thought I was the only one here.”

You struggle to say something to him, the shock of being caught and the attractiveness of his voice washing over you. He doesn’t seem to mind your timidness, and reaches out his hand.

“I’m Luke.”

Luke. Where had you heard that before? You can’t be sure.

Your much smaller hand falls into his, and your arm erupts into goose flesh. His lips part beautifully—demigod charm.

“You’re a nymph, aren’t you?” He continues. “I’ve seen girls like you in the lake… never back here.”

“Yes,” you reply, in almost a mere whisper. “I’m sorry. I was just.. I’m shy, that’s all.”

He chuckles, both hands running through his hair. Water droplets stick to his forehead.

“Shy. Not shy enough to have a shirt on, though.”

You flush when his eyes drop down to your naked chest. Your hair covers your breasts, but that doesn’t make it any less revealing.

“No one ever comes back here.” you stutter out, embarrassed.

“But I did.”

You don’t know what he means by that. His head tilts, and his body moves closer to you. Your back hits the rock, your chest heaving. “I know nymphs are supposed to be pretty. But I’ve never seen one as beautiful as you.”

Your stomach tangles into knots, from nerves or arousal you aren’t sure.

“Oh,” you breathe out. He chuckles before looking around behind you.

“There isn’t anyone else here, is there?”

You shake your head, and you feel a bit queasy. Regretful, too, for revealing such a thing. Had your stranger danger warnings from your peers taught you nothing?

Something in the boy’s demeanor has changed, and you think that maybe he isn’t your handsome prince after all.

And looking at the scar across his eye, you finally remember who he is— Luke, son of Hermes. A counselor from Cabin Eleven. You had never spoken to him before— it’s a big camp, after all— but his wandering eyes whenever you were near seemed to be filled with lust. You had just toned it down to a weird crush.

How did you not register it before?

You don’t know, and as of right now you don’t care. You begin to move away to the shoreline, where your dress lays haphazardly on the sand.

Something clicks in your head — How could Luke think he was alone if your clothes were there? — and you decide that you really shouldn’t be here. Not near this pond, and especially not near him. Your relaxing day has just turned awry.

“Where are you going?” Luke calls to you, and you begin to move faster. You could care less if your underwear is exposed to him as you finally get to the shore. Your hands nervously fumble with your dress.

“Just… I forgot I had somewhere to be!”

“Where?”

You jump, turning around to see him behind you. His body drips with water and his hair is plastered to his forehead.

“Oh, you know..” you chuckle nervously, a shudder running through you. You avoid eye contact as you slip the dress over your damp body. “Just— nymph stuff.”

“Nymph stuff?” He questions. The way he says it is almost accusingly, as if you aren’t allowed to lie to him. His eyes are dark, his demeanor tense. He walks towards you, and your heart beats out of your chest.

You begin to run.

You don’t know why. It’s maybe—probably— instinct. But you don’t make it far. Not even a few feet. Luke takes after you, and before you can even move off of the sand and onto the grass he’s got you pinned underneath him. A terrified squeak makes its way through you, and you squirm in his grip. He grabs you by the neck and pushes you down into the sand.

“Stop fucking moving,” he growls, fumbling with his belt. “You dumb slut.“

You cry, your bottom lip wobbling. His cock hangs out of his underwear, heavy and thick. Your eyes widen to the size of saucers.

“Luke, please! No, no—“

“Shut up,” he groans out, wrapping a hand around his shaft. Your thighs clench together against your own accord. His other hand flips up the hem of your dress and exposes your wet panties to the open air, and he yanks those down, too. All the while, your heart thuds like a scared rabbit and your legs flail against him.

He pulls your thighs apart, and you whimper weakly.

“Oh, fuck,” Luke’s fingers play with your slit, soaking with something more than water despite your protests. “prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen.”

His tongue runs along his bottom lip as he pulls away, his hand going to one side of your head, the other moving down to position himself at your entrance. Your body relaxes against its own will, giving up on fighting. He’s extremely strong, definitely skilled in taking his opponents down. There would be no use.

Your eyes water as he sheathes himself in you. White hot heat courses through your veins, shock on your face as he pushes in to the hilt. You can’t do anything but lay there, frozen.

Luke lets out a grunt, his face resting in the crook of your neck as he begins to move. The smell of lake water and shampoo permeates your senses as you unintentionally bury your nose in his curls and sharply inhale. Your arms wrap around his big shoulders and you let out a salacious cry.

He slaps his hand over your mouth, his voice as venomous as a snake’s.

“Don’t you dare get us caught,” he warns, a low chuckle coming out of his mouth when you clench around him. “Dirty fucking girl. I bet you want that, don’t you? I bet you want everyone to see what I do to you. How much of a desperate bitch you are for me.”

You shake your head aggressively. He smiles.

Turning your head to the side, you see the expanse of the woods and the lake before your eyes flutter shut in pleasure. He hits a spongey spot inside you that has your toes curling, and he watches every movement — the way your face contorts in pleasure, your body taking over the rejection in your mind. The way your wetness leaves a white, creamy ring around the base of his cock. The way that everytime he touches that spot, your legs shake and quiver.

He fucks into it over and over, rutting into your like an animal, hammering his aching dick against your walls and making you see stars.

You should feel guilt, disgust. But he’s so heavy on top of you, and it’s hard to breathe, and his hands are coming down to your clit and— fuck, you’re going to cum.

It happens quickly. You don’t even fathom what happens before your orgasm washes over you, but your vision whites out and you seize up. Back arching, you let out a desperate mewl as liquid gushes out of your abused cunt. Luke, noticing with furrowed brows and his mouth agape, pulls out of you to slip his fingers inside instead. The digits slide in easily, coated in wetness, as he begins to thrust them in and out. The slick sound of your release sets your face on fire.

“Fuck yes,” Luke groans, and he sounds pained. “Give it to me, princess. That’s it, that’s the stuff…”

Rubbing at your clit, he helps you ride out your orgasm, drawing out more of your release. His fingers go up to his mouth, and he slides them over his tongue. He whines, positioning himself back over your pussy, his hand jerking off his own dick.

“Gonna cum all over you,” he grunts, arousal pooling over his fist. “Shit, ‘m gonna...”

His head tilts back, and he lets out a deep moan as he releases all over your bare pussy. Your hole clenches desperately when you feel his warm spend hit it, sticky and wet. His big hand splays across your thigh and digs crescent moons into it as he rides out his high with a shaky quiver of your name.

You lay motionless, his cum drying against your cunt as he comes down. He still holds your legs in his hands—as if you could go anywhere, at this point. As if he hadn’t just fucked you dumb.

He strokes the skin of your thighs, his breath bordering on a sigh.

“This’ll be our little secret,” he says softly.“Yeah, baby? Promise you won’t tell?”

It may sound sugary sweet, but underneath it all the sentence is incredibly threatening.

Sweaty and hot, you weakly nod. He gives a pleased, predatory smile that shakes you to the core.

“That’s my girl.”

Stick it Out to the End

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

pairing: michael gavey x bimbo!reader

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

word count: 12.7k

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

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

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Michael

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What the –”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Look, I’m –” 

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

“Problem over here, lads?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oi!”

“W-What?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“W-What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“A normal amount?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I –” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How do –”

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

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

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

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

“N-No, I really don’t think –”

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

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

“Oh, really?”

“I… I have to fuck you –”

“Mhm?”

“And prove I did somehow.”

“How interesting!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, I –”

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

“I… I suppose.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“W-What?” 

“You have a phone, yeah?” 

“…Yeah?”

“One that can, like, take video?” 

“Yes?” 

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

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

“Film me.” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah? You wanna?” 

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

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

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

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

“You don’t want to anymore?” 

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

“‘N what would that be?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Something funny?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“W-Well, yeah, but —“

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

“What does that mean?” 

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

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

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

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

“You’re sure?” 

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

Michael

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

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

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

11:47 AM. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So, initiates, what’ve you got?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Welcome to Bullingdon.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can you blame me?”

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

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

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

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

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

He has the real thing now.

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Atonement

warnings: implied smut, angst.

a/n: Omg this is the last chapter of this series and I just want to thank everyone who took the time to read this story! I appreciate you all for the love you’ve shown for me and this series :’) Luv you all!

Continua a leggere

Taking anti-depressant pills?? Seeing a therapist??? Journaling???? No need babe, my fav writer just dropped another x reader fic.