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inkareds · 7 months ago

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Thank you sm!!!! I'm glad you enjoyed it and yeag heartbreakingly beautiful was the aim 😋😋😋

Who We Are

Jacaerys Velaryon

7/10 - Unreal Unearth Event

nav // event masterlist // hotd m.list (tba) // ko-fi // taglist

✧.* word count: 6.9k ✧.* genre: angst w/ comfort ✧.* warnings: female reader (mainly bcs it's canon universe and I wasn't sure about the gn version of Queen), heavy spoilers for what happens in the book but it still is canon divergence

"You and I burned out our steam // Chasing someone else's dream // How can somethin' be so much heavier // But so much less than it seems // Darling, we sacrificed // We gave our time to somethin' undefined"

War changes people

as always lyric breakdown at the end, also this took a while to write lmao, I feel like Jace is kinda ooc but I'm not sure

“Husband, you should rest,” you whisper bringing the fur-lined coat your dearest Jacaerys had placed on the chair beside him over his shoulders.

He rouses from his sleep at your soft voice and the weight of the warm cloth. You smile softly as Jacaerys opens his eyes, slightly dazed from the clear lack of sleep. Leaning your body so that your face may be levelled with his own that’s laid atop his hands on the table, you pressed a chaste kiss to the crown of his head.

“Shall I lead us back to our bedchambers or shall I make us both tea for the long night ahead?” You spoke and lightly brushed some of his hair away.

Ever since his travel to Winterfell, he’s been growing out his hair more and more. His dark curls framed his face in a way that made you positively melt.

As if finally registering your words, Jacaerys shook his head and straightened his body from his hunched-over self from falling asleep. You take a few steps back as he stretches, groaning at his aching muscles from the uncomfortable position.

“Neither,” he groans out, his voice dry and deep from the slumber he was in. Your eyebrows quirked at his answer, “I will make myself tea and you shall return to bed.” Jacaerys explained, causing a frown to bring itself to your lips.

“It is our bed and you shall join me or I will not go at all.” You defiantly cross your arms.

Jacaerys sighs and leans back forward on his elbows, bringing a hand to his temple. The only light illuminating either of you was the morbid amount of candles strewn around to keep the room bright even in the darkest night. Jacaerys found himself in his solitary room, working day and night with his commanders and councilmembers. Before meeting with his mother and doing the same thing.

Day and night he has worked tirelessly. You suspected this of course, with the war at its course, you knew he would spend more time consulting with his men, mother, papers, and swords than you. You did not mind it whatsoever until you noticed it had started taking a toll on him.

Every time you saw him, whether it was in the brightness of sunlight or the darkness of moonlight, his eyes grew more sunken and tired. Though he kept his body physically strong and you were sure he was getting rest here and there after you have long slumbered. You worried for his mind and sanity.

You had hoped after Lucerys’ death and his return from Winterfell he’d be more willing to your coaxing to rest. Yet, the contrary had ensued.

“I do not wish to argue,” he looked up at you with desperation and for a second you almost relented. If only he didn’t look so tired.

“I do not wish for it either, but you must rest Jacaerys. You have slaved yourself in this solitary world of yours for many moons.” You exasperatedly tried to explain to him without sounding like you were whining. “I doubt you’ve even grieved for dearest Lucerys-”

“What do you know about how I have grieved for my brother?!” he slammed the table and rose.

For any other women and perhaps many men, they would back down. Cower at the usually cordial and respectful though stern heir’s sudden rise in tone. But you knew Jacaerys Velaryon. You’ve known him almost your entire life. You’ve fallen for every part of him, the good, the bad, and the troubled. Of which he had many, contrary to the smallfolk’s belief.

Jacaerys was tired and as such his patience was at a short fuse. You simply had to be understanding. It is your duty as his wife to do so.

“I apologise for inferring as such, my love. You know I do not mean it that way.” You reached out to touch him, bringing your palm to his cheek.

His brows furrowed and his frown deepened but he did not pull away from your affections. Even closes his eyes at the feeling of a kind touch after all the brutalities he’s had to think of for the upcoming battles and scuffles likely to happen in war.

“I mean it in the way that for your sake you should take some time. I am not asking for weeks or even days. I’m asking for a night. A single night when you can sleep in my arms and I could comfort you whole. If by daylight I rouse and you’re already long gone I will not fault you. I know you have much to do. But tonight, rest with me.”

Throughout your words you brought a hand to Jacaerys’ chest, bringing your bodies closer and feeling his heartbeat. At times the feel or sound of it was the only thing keeping you calm amidst the horrors of war. The fact that he was alive was much more than enough for you. But you do not wish of him to bleed dry for the throne. You wish for him to thrive and he could only do as such if he rested.

After a soft silence, Jacaerys nodded. He turned towards you and gave you a warm smile, one that made your heart flutter and your mind remembers over and over again the boy you fell in love with so long ago.

“Perhaps you are right, all of this can wait for tomorrow.” Your smile widened at his words, though he opened his mouth once more to say something, “I- I did not mean to raise my voice at you.”

He looked deep into your eyes as he said it, begging you to believe him. Of course, you did.

“My beloved Jacaerys, I know.”

Jacaerys let out a sigh of relief before reaching to grab both your hands in his and bringing your knuckles to his lips, leaving a soft kiss on it.

“You are far too kind my sweetheart.”

Just like that the two of you would leave the room for your bedchambers. For the first time in a while, you finally slept at the same time as your dearest husband. Though if only you knew it would be a very long time before the next time you would do so.

As the days bled together, you found yourself almost as busy as Jacaerys, though with things much less important than the things which busied him. Due to Lucerys’ death and the impending war, most if not all of the royal family are busy with preparations for the battles up ahead.

Daemon wanted to quickly arrange battle plans after battle plans, engrossing himself in the meticulous training of his men. Rhaenyra found herself on a balancing beam of being the queen of the realm and a grieving mother. Jacaerys took many of Rhaenyra’s duties after Lucerys’ death, giving his mother ample time to rest. Baela and Rhaena didn’t fare any better, as they grieved, Baela would mount her dragon more and more.

Many of the mundane yet needed royal duties fell onto the second in command, whether that were Rhaenyra’s councilmen, Jacaerys’ councilmen, or even you. As Jacaerys wife, you hold a significant amount of power. Especially after the people’s oath to Rhaenyra as Queen. More often than not, when it came to the mundane day-to-day business that needed to be managed but wasn’t as important as gold or wars, the men who dealt with them reported to you.

It wasn’t hard work, many of it had to do with the construction of buildings here and there. Food supplies and trade routes to ensure a stable economy. Communication between the lower houses which had less priority than the major houses. Those things laid on you to then present to Jacaerys, who would only hear the abridged version, relaying that version to his mother.

It kept your mind busy but your heart heavy.

As what little time you had been able to spend with Jacaerys had now been dwindled into nothing. You suspect you’d have to get used to it, once Jacaerys rises to the throne, you’d have to deal with so much more as queen consort. Especially considering the state of the Kingdom after the war is over would likely not be as stable as it once was.

But it didn’t mean it weighed any less in your heart. You missed your husband, you missed sleeping in his arms, you missed his lighthearted smile and small chuckles, and you missed telling him about your day. You missed the time when both of you were children and hearing all the stories of Old Valryia he’d learnt from his mother and the Maesters.

You felt as though your relationship with Jacaerys was straining. Not by either of your faults but more by the lack of interactions the two of you have shared outside of tense-filled talks of war strategies.

It fully ripped apart after the Battle at Rook’s Nest. Rhaenys Velaryon and Melys were no more.

At her funeral, you held onto Jacaerys’ hand as Rhaenyra called for Syrax to burn her. You felt Jacaerys hold your hand tightly as he forced himself to hold a brave face. In consolation, you could only hold his hand against both of yours and offer some solace.

The events which followed after concerned you.

“Where are you going?”

One day, you find Jacaerys quickly putting on his riding gear at midday in your shared bedchambers. You hadn’t expected him to be taking a break from the work and ride his dragon and so you knew he was going somewhere.

“To meet Addam of Hull,” he replied curtly, securing his clothing against himself.

“What for?” You wanted to help so you took the courtesy to grab his gloves and hand them to him. A small thank you was his response as he put it on.

“I have made an agreement with the queen and the sea snake, we need as many dragonriders as possible. We have the dragons, we do not have nearly as many riders. Daemon calls them dragonseeds, potential Targaryen bastard children who have sworn to my mother. The deal was if they successfully bonded with a dragon they would be honoured a noble title.”

Your brows furrowed.

“Are you going alone?”

“Yes, if this is true then I need to convince him. Asking a man to put his life on the line to try and ride a dragon is not something easily asked for.”

That was when you stopped him. Jacaerys was rushing and at this point, he had finished preparing himself for the ride but you had stepped in the way between the door and himself.

“And put yourself in danger? Jacaerys, are you positively sure that this Addam of Hull is who he says he is? What if this was a trap set by Aegon or Alicent? You can’t go alone. If you are hurt then at best we lose a strong dragon rider for some moons due to your injuries, at worst I may lose you.”

Jacaerys sighs but he can see some truth in what you were saying. He was taking a gamble by meeting Addam alone, but during his discussion with his family both he and Daemon agreed that finding these dragonseeds found priority over many other things. If the Greens caught wind of their tactic they may either steal it for their own or intercept their means to do so.

By meeting Addam directly it allows Jacaerys some semblance of control over the strategy he first brought up.

Control he’s been lacking ever since the people closest to him had started dying like flies.

So he placed his hand on your cheek and leaned to press a kiss to the crown of your head.

“I hear your concern, but I am confident in this. Have some trust in your beloved husband.” He chuckled into your hair and pulled away to stare deep into your concern-laden eyes.

Angling himself to press a chaste kiss into your lips, you practically melt in his arms. The moment was intimate and soft. If not for the feeling of harsh leather underneath your fingertips that laid on his body becoming a stark reminder of his next actions.

When he pulled away there was a short silence before you moved out of the way with gritted teeth. For a moment you wished he would listen to your concerns for his safety more. Time and time again you find yourself wondering if Jacaerys was plunging into danger he would not be able to pull himself out of.

He is not Daemon Targaryen, who you’re convinced has taken the favour of some god in return for the ability to not die despite the many perilous battles he’s been in. You hope Jacaerys understands that.

A couple of hours later he would return in the afternoon, though this time with more bruises than he left with.

You gritted your teeth as the maester recounted to you what your husband refused to tell you. After his return you had only a glimpse of his scuffed-up wear, only to be quickly brushed aside as he makes his way to the dragonpit with Addam of Hull. The maester who treated him, whom you had to quite literally threaten to fess up the injuries of your husband had informed you of what happened.

Addam was who he said he was, recounts have found records of his Targaryen lineage. But in the process, the two of them had unknowingly walked into a scuffle with the King’s Guard who pursued both Jacaerys and Addam until the two could leave on Vermax.

When the deep night came Jacaerys found you still awake in your bedchambers, unable to sit still or do anything until you could speak to him. At the sight of you, Jacaerys sighs, he knows what is coming.

“Wife, please.”

“I told you to be careful-”

“I know-”

“I told you you could get hurt-”

“I know-”

“What if you had been badly injured?!”

“My love, I know.” Jacaerys, with the patience of a saint and the understanding that comes from also being in the same position as you were in the past.

He knew what it felt like to be a bystander in the violence of life, he watched his mother get cut to shield him and his brother from his step-grandmother. Only e to watch as she winces at getting stitched. And so he knows what it is like to be worried. To feel helpless.

“I know I should’ve listened to you,” he nears you and holds your face in both his hands, looking down on you with so much love in his eyes that you could only offer him silence in return for his devotion. “But had I done so, Addam of Hull may never have claimed Seasmoke.”

Your eyes widened and slowly a smile crossed your features.

“He did it? He claimed the dragon?”

Jacaerys grins and nods with you as you’re filled with a renewed sense of hope.

“Yes, we may win this war without much fight anyways, my love.”

Despite your clear hesitation in all the manners of how Jacaerys handled his wars, at least that night he was safe and sound and in your arms again.

The months that followed would go as such, you’d watch in horror as Jacaerys would take more and more risks for the crown. The last strike in which you wondered if he was going too far was when Viserys II and Aegon III were attacked. Had you not begged and pleaded for him to wait a little longer for Addam to finish gearing up to help him, feeling he was jumping into danger unprepared, Jacaerys would’ve died.

Arguments after arguments followed after that. Especially after Viserys II died in the Battle of the Gullet and the sacking of Spicetown causing the death of many of Corlys’ men.

After that, every decision that followed Jacaerys’ command seemed to go further and further into danger. Even going so far as to recruit three more dragonseeds, you distrusted all of them. They had no incentive to put their loyalties to Rhaenyra, their only incentive was noble-hood, but what would happen if the scales tipped in Aegon’s favour? Would they switch sides then?

You tried warning Jacaerys repeatedly, only for him to brush you off over and over again. Even mentioned once that you had no idea of the wars that were being played and not to meddle in his strategies.

You kept your silence to your husband after that.

Your anger would come in tenfolds when Ulf the White and Hugh Hammer would betray Rhaenyra in favour of Daeron at the sacking of Tumbleton. It would be this unbridled anger that would cause the rift of your marriage to tear apart at its seams.

Jacaerys seldom slept in your shared bedchambers, choosing instead to rest in his own, figuring any time he would come there, arguments would follow.

Later into the war when Jacaerys suggested his mother march into King’s Landing while he stakes his post in Dragonstone, you, once more, protested. There was a giant risk in what they were doing. The people of King’s Landing have long been disillusioned by the throne ever since the war started, who to say they would open their arms to her this time?

Not to mention the bloodshed that follows her, they would become wary. What would happen then?

And as always, your protests were pushed away. At first, Jacaerys wanted to take it into account, but after Daemon agreed to the decision and his own decision to battle Aemond, you realised you had no room to speak in the council of men.

Disaster strikes once more when Sunfyre would lead to the death of Rhaenyra and Aegon, Rhaenyra’s son, had been taken as a hostage. You had tried to see the silver lining of it all, knowing Jacaerys was falling deeper and deeper into his grief, you wanted to see the hope at the end of it.

“Husband,” Jacaerys didn’t respond.

He sat with his hands cradling his head and mess of hair, covering himself from you.

You had fought tooth and nail against his guards to let you into his office, one which he had instructed them to do anything it took to prevent you from entering. You can see why. He was in a state of disarray.

Papers were strewn about, so much so that you worried about the lack of fire safety in the room, considering the candles were still lit. There was spilt wine on the ground, some long dried into the cracks of the wooden flooring. The place was a mess and in the middle of it all cowered Jacaerys.

“Jacaerys.” You called with a stronger tone this time, making your way to the man.

Jacaerys finally lifts his head to see you. His hair was matted and his eyes were red from crying. He looked up at you with so much desperation that you could not stop your legs from rushing towards him and embracing him.

You fall to your knees as your arms cradle his body which now folds itself into his knees once more.

“Oh, my dear.” You whisper when he begins to weep.

His body shook with every rough exhalation. You held him tight against yourself, caressing his hair and back as no more words were exchanged between the two of you that night.

The next morning, you had hoped that small intimate moment you shared in his grief would bridge back your relationship.

How wrong you were.

Jacaerys barges into your shared bedchambers for the first time in many moons and immediately strides towards your desk. Scattering papers around trying to look for something.

“Jacaerys,” you quickly placed down your book as you were reading before he entered, “What are you doing?”

When he did not answer and instead became more erratic in his actions, displacing mountains of paperwork that you had tirelessly organised and went through, you quickly stood up.

“Jacaerys! Enough! What are you looking for?!” You rushed towards him and pulled him away from your desk, clearly in a state of disarray now.

Jacaerys lets himself be pushed by you away from the table but his eyes still refuse to meet yours. Choosing instead to rake over the scattered papers for the Seven knows what.

“What are you looking for?! I can assure you I can find it for you without you needing to disorganise my day’s work!”

Finally, he speaks, “I’m looking for records detailing King’s Landing.” Your eyes widened.

You did not have much paperwork containing the capital, what you do have though are trade routes, smallfolk routes, tax details, and generally things unneeded for a man leading a war. Though something someone would need if they planned on taking over King’s Landing. You had given a report filled with it just weeks before Rhaenyra’s attempt at sieging the capital.

“No,” you whispered.

“You said you could find the papers, where is it.”

“Jacaerys, don’t be idiotic.”

“I don’t need your input right now, I just need those records.”

“Jacaerys, by the sevens, look at your wife!” You held both his shoulders and forced him to look at you. “What are you doing?”

“I will not make the same mistakes as my mother once did, I plan on conducting this plan through diplomacy. Aegon is dying, my brother is held hostage, and both Aemond and Vhagar are dead. Not to mention Stark’s men marching into King’s Landing as we speak. I plan on joining Cregan and taking the throne.”

He explains, his eyes weary and his body tense. This was the longest conversation the two of you have held for quite some time and you wished it was for a different topic. Though every inch of your heart begged your mouth not to speak what you were thinking, your logical mind took over, as it always does.

“Are you mad?!” In three words, you see Jacaerys’ facial expression morph. His brows furrow and his eyes widen before quickly steeling and looking away from you once again.

“You know what they call her? Do you know what the smallfolk call your mother, the Black Queen, Rhaenyra Targaryen? They call her Maegor with tits. She reigned over a short moment before Sunfyre killed her and yet they still like her to Maegor the Cruel. How do you think they will respond to you with Stark’s men marching into the city?!”

“Do you not trust me?” His voice lowers as he begs you to understand where he comes from.

But you are an intelligent woman, a far too intelligent woman. It was one of the biggest reasons Jacaerys had fallen for you all those years past. But being an intelligent woman meant having your mind control your words and not your heart.

“Trust you!?” You exclaimed, exasperated and untrusting of him, “Jacaerys, every decision you have made I have advised you to do something else or alter those plans of yours. Yet all you ever say is to trust you and when I do what I say could happen does happen!”

And that was the moment Jacaerys breaks.

“Advise?! All you have done was criticise me! What do you wish for me to say?! That I was abysmally wrong? That you were right?! That I should let you be the one to make all the decisions now?!”

“That’s not what I’m-”

“Every time I look at you I can’t help but feel your judgement rain on me. As if with your eyes you are telling me I told you so, over and over again. I can’t stand it!”

“Jacaerys, I don’t-”

“Enough! Be quiet! Just- please- be silent for once.”

He turns around, his back facing you as your hands drop to your sides.

“Perhaps,” he starts, “Had I married someone who would actually advise me and not criticise me I would’ve listened to her. If I had known our union would’ve caused me this much strain I would’ve thought twice.”

You felt the entire weight of the Seven Kingdoms break your heart at that moment. You would be dumb to think that the war hadn’t put a tremendous strain on your relationship. But to have him so brazenly admit regretting marrying you was something you never thought would happen.

Logically, you understood that perhaps Jacaerys was just high-strung, he was stressed, and under a disastrous amount of pressure and grief. And that he did not mean his words. But that did little to bandage your already weary heart from breaking even further.

The countless arguments, and the intense workload with no one to vent to, weighed on you. The only reason you had restrained yourself from woe was the understanding that Jacaerys had it worse. You dealt with numbers and produce. He dealt with lives and blood. You were not the same.

Perhaps it was time for you to understand that. Wholly and fully.

“It is still in the queen’s small council chamber.” You steadied your voice, holding any cracks in your tone from the heartbreak you were experiencing.

Jacaerys didn’t acknowledge it, simply walking out of the room.

That night and all nights after, you would spend your nights alone, crying.

After that day, you would spend the rest of your time with Jacaerys or any of his councilmen with your head hung low. Forcing your contentment on the mundanity of your work of numbers and produce. Unaware of the few times Jacaerys has tried to reach for you before his siege.

The siege was a success, they called it the Hour of the Wolf. Cregan Stark and Jacaerys Velaryon were able to take over the capital and after many more days of stabilisation over his rule more events followed. The sudden reappearance of Viserys and Aegon’s, son of Alicent’s, sudden poisoning by Corlys, to name a few.

After all was said and done, Jacaerys called for the remaining royals, mainly Rhaena and yourself, in Dragonstone to return to King’s Landing for a celebration.

Jacaerys would proclaim himself with a speech amongst the small folk, hoping to rebuild his image and reputation, afterwards food would be prepared for them. Nobles would also be in attendance but during the feast they and the royal family would be ushered to a much more private celebration where hopes of rebuilding relationships and easing tensions would rise high.

You felt antsy over the entire ordeal. Not that you thought the idea was bad. You believed directly speaking towards the small folk would show his down-to-earth nature and create a friendlier personality for the normal people to aspire once more. Showing that the crown was something to be adored again instead of ridiculed and hated.

What you were worried about was the scale of it all, as it stood many of the men that would be guarding the nobles and Jacaerys were Stark’s men. Which meant utter safety and loyalty as they listened to no one other than Cregan. But that did not mean all of it were Stark men. You weren’t privy to the details of it all but you knew some guards were just that, King’s Guards. Ones you did not properly trust.

To play on the caring and courageous king, Jacaerys needed to be branded as a good husband as well. To do this, he mustn't start any rumours amongst the staff of the keep that you and he had yet to speak to each other properly ever since the argument you had in your bedchambers.

So, you must share a space before leaving for the festivities. Thankfully, you were not expected to be in his vicinity while your handmaidens dressed and dolled you. As queen consort, you must also make a new image of yourself. Thankfully, your image hadn’t been sullied amongst your people, considering you were well-loved in Dragonstone. But that did not mean the smallfolk did not harbour any sense of irk for you.

You must be dressed beautifully and courtly.

As you stared into the mirror in your room, you took a deep breath. You looked beautiful.

You did not have much reason to dress properly during the war. After all, your duties were done within the confines of your table. But now you looked ecstatically mesmerising. You only hope Jacaerys thinks the same way.

“My lady, the king is waiting for you.” Your handmaiden muses with a smile on her face.

You could only respond with a wry smile and a nod as she begins leading you to Jacaerys’ bedchambers. To her, she had dressed you so beautifully for your husband, she must be giddy with pride and happiness. If only she knew the truth, you wondered if she would be disappointed.

The pit in your stomach only grew as you neared the room, his words echoed in your head in a way that you wished it would stop. It festered and nurtured the growing insecurities within yourself. But before you could think more of it you had arrived.

The guards open the doors and you make your way into where Jacaerys is, hearing the small giggle of your handmaiden before the door closes behind you.

His back was facing you and you couldn’t help but feel a sense of the past. You focused on your breathing again. Not seeing the way Jacaerys fiddles with the sleeves of his shirt, blazed with nerves on how to speak to you again after so long. He wishes to apologise but doesn’t know where to start. Especially considering your sudden retreat. To which he does not blame you.

Jacaerys slowly turns, opening his mouth to say something. But you unknowingly cut him off without looking at him.

“My King, we should get going, it would do wonders if we could greet the nobles before the speech.” You explained matter-of-factly.

Formal, guarded, stiff, and cold. Jacaerys bites the inside of his cheeks at hearing you address him with his title and not a term of endearment as he was so used to hearing. He understands he deserves it.

No matter, what he thinks, the war is done and though more work will now follow him. The burden of blood will no longer follow him. He has a lifetime to beg for your forgiveness.

So, he clears his throat.

“Of course.” He offers his arm, half expecting you to refuse it.

Surprisingly, you took it, placing your stiff palm on the inside of his elbow. You felt awkward touching him in such an intimate manner and he could tell.

His eyes looked towards you beside him as you looked forward to the doors, waiting for him to start walking. He was transfixed by the sadness in your eyes, the sunken way they sat on your face, had you been having trouble sleeping?

His thoughts were quickly cut off by your sudden laughter.

“Oh, husband! Enough, we must leave now, we may continue this later tonight!” You exclaim loudly with a torrent of giggles.

Jacaerys brows furrowed in confusion but then he realises when you start walking and the door opened. You were playing your role. The role he asked you to play. The quiet queen.

Your giggles didn’t stop until the two of you were walking towards the carriage which would take you to where the event was held. In a moment, Jacaerys sees the way your face drops from the faux laughs and smiles. Your expression was sullen and cold once more when you reached the carriage.

Jacaerys wanted to say something but wondered if now wasn’t the right time. So he stayed quiet until the two of you reached your destination.

In which your faux smile returned as you leaned against him in the many eyes of small folk and nobles.

The speech was a success, the people cheered for him as you stiffly clapped your hands at your husband’s brilliant words. Baela was the only one to notice your discomfort. Right before the nobles would be ushered towards the other location, she pulls you aside.

“Are you alright?” she holds your hands.

“Of course, just, worried.” you confessed.

“About?”

“This is too open, I- I’m worried something may happen.”

Jacaerys, intending to look for his wife, accidentally overhears the private conversation. His jaw tightened at your words. A part of him wonders if despite the success of the siege, you still think of his failures as stronger than his successes.

He wanted to prove you wrong.

During the feast, you played your role perfectly, attached to the hip with your ‘dearest’ husband. You laugh as he tells stories and jokes, all the while your hand stiffens and freezes any time you see a guard or a noble acting out of the ordinary. To which Jacaerys always senses, as you are holding to him after all.

This pushed him to be bolder in trying to prove you wrong. To show you that there were no dangers to his plan and that this event was spotless. Perhaps then he could apologise to you.

It was on a specific instance that he felt you tense up the most. The two of you had begun a conversation with Lord Baratheon and his wife when the four of you started walking away from the crowds, considering how loud people were getting as they emptied their cups more and more.

Though the conversation was getting dull, Jacaerys had continued humouring Lord Baratheon’s insistence on continuing to talk. As he wanted to show you that there was nothing wrong. He should’ve seen how the Baratheon was slowly walking the four of them to a secluded area. He saw the way your eyes wandered everywhere, not truly listening to what Lady Baratheon was saying.

Jacaerys felt your hand squeeze his arm in warning, a simple sign to leave. One he did not listen.

Until-

“Jacaerys!”

It all happened in the blink of an eye, from behind a pillar a masked and cloaked man jumped from the darkness. Equipped with a poison-laden dagger, they proclaimed their loyalty to Aegon, Alicent’s son, as the one true king and went to drive the blade into Jacaerys. If not for you pushing him aside, he would’ve died.

But in return, the blade stabbed deep into the middle of your chest, just below your ribs. The Lady Baratheon screamed, as your body collapsed to the ground, only for Lord Baratheon to take her hand and run. The scream brought the attention of the guards, who were quick to arrive at the scene and cut off their paths.

Jacaerys falls to the ground to catch your body.

He cradles your body against his own. Feeling the blood seeping through his fingertips.

“No- no- no!” he mutters over and over again as he desperately tries to hold the wound in his hands.

A pathetic attempt of trying to stop the blood from pouring out like a river of grief and pain.

Your chest rose and fell as your breathing laboured.

“Guards!” He yells out, “Call a maester, the queen has been stabbed!” He sees many of them scramble to follow his orders and yet he couldn’t focus on anything except the deafening ringing in his ears at his panic.

His eyes began tearing up as you tried to squint your eyes at him to focus.

“Jacaerys,” you mutter weakly placing your hand on top of his own which was still desperately pushing against your wound.

The blood seeped through his fingers like water. There was no end.

“Even in the brink of death you refuse to be quiet, please, conserve your might.”

You flinch at his words, thinking back to the last time he mentioned being quiet. Not wanting to see the face of a man who has hurt you so in your death, you slowly turned your head towards the garden in front of you.

Jacaerys, through his own watering eyes, realises his mistake.

“No, no, that’s not what I mean. My love, you were always much better with words than I am. I speak before I think and I hurt you over and over again.” his tears began falling, “I’m sorry. Gods knows I’ve been wanting to say that to you the second our argument ended. But I didn’t know how I didn’t know how I could confess how much I loathed myself for saying those things in our room and how I regretted it without another argument. I didn’t mean any of it, my love, please.”

At his confession, you slowly turned your head towards him again, and your vision began to blur.

“I love you, please, please, don’t leave me.” He begged.

You could faintly hear clattering and rushing, armour clanging into one another as you assumed guards were running with a maester.

“I love you, please.” Sobs wracked through Jacaerys’ body, “I’m sorry.” And your heart broke once more seeing him so pained.

For the first time in a long time, you wished your worries were wrong, that what Jacaerys had said in the past was true. That you were being far too untrusting over him. As much as you didn’t want to die, there was one thing you didn’t want to happen more. You didn’t want Jacaerys to lose another person he deeply cared for.

“I’m sorry.” he whispers over and over again into your hair as he leans to press kisses all over the crown of your head.

With what little energy you had left, you whispered, “It’s okay. I forgive you. I love you.” You wish you could lift your hand and cradle his face as you used to do. He used to love it when you did that. But you found it impossible to move.

Soon enough, you found it impossible to focus on his voice, then his face, then the ground you were lying on, then the world around you.

Not a second later, Jacaerys sees the light leave your eyes and what little family he has left from his youth is now taken from him as he is left to weep and sob on the cold ground. Completely unaware of the nobles in the area watching the heartbreaking scene after rushing there after hearing a ruckus.

His plan was a success, after all, Jacaerys plan worked. The speech and the feast which followed repaired his image unlike anything else could. Though the feast did most of the work.

Rumours and stories spread around like wildfire over the heartbreaking scene of the newly crowned king holding his dead wife on the ground. Refusing to let her go, forcing the guards to physically pull him away from the body.

Any semblance of doubt within the smallfolk that the king was a heartless monster who warred and sieged the capital was gone in a week. In its place was sympathy as they saw themselves who had lost family or friends to the war, in the grieving king who had lost his beloved wife.

Though Jacaerys wished, for the first time, that he was wrong. That the plan didn’t work. That it wasn’t considered one of his successes as a councilmember would later say. He wished he was wrong and the feast was an abysmal failure. If only that meant you would sleep in your shared bed one more time.

Just as you had after the argument, Jacaerys would spend the rest of his life as king, alone in his bed, crying.

“Jeez, you okay?” Jace suddenly felt a hand wipe away at his cheeks.

His eyes immediately jolt open, wide and confused.

“Woah, calm down, you were crying in your sleep so I thought you were having a bad dream or something.”

His brows furrowed in confusion, a bad dream? He couldn’t remember.

“Wanna talk about it?”

Finally, his mind snapped into his reality. Jace blinked a few more times before staring at you, your head propped on the palm of your hand as you balanced on your elbow looking down at him.

“Nah.” He shook his head, before grasping your body into his arms and pulling you back down into his embrace.

“Shit!” You exclaimed, not expecting the sudden movement.

All before you giggled again and wrapped his body against yours, one of your hands absentmindedly reaching to play with his curls.

“Did I tell you how much I like it when you grow out your hair?” You absentmindedly asked.

Jace hummed a yup into the crook of your neck causing you to laugh.

He almost pouted when you pulled away to look at him, one of your hands cradling his cheek as he leaned into your touch.

“So what was it? A bad dream or something?”

Jace shrugged, he couldn’t really remember. A sense of deja vu hit him.

“Or something.” he shrugged before cuddling deeper into you and relinquishing himself to sleep.

“Fucking hell, I bet in every lifetime you’re a handful to me.”

He chuckled, “Maybe. But that means in every lifetime you’re stuck with me.”

A part of you wanted to tease him and say ew, but you didn’t. Your heart willed your words to say something else, “I hope so,” you whisper placing a kiss on his forehead, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he responds before the two of you fall back asleep in your shared bedroom.

Did u guys like the ending ;)))) I really like the idea of a rebirth but this time both parties are better versions of themselves. Anyw let's get to the lyric breakdown

I want to write something which references this song but backwards. The song starts with the lines, “Quietly, it slips through your fingers, love // Falling from you drop by drop // What I had left here I just held it tight // So someone with your eyes // Might come in time / To hold me like water // Or, Christ hold me like a knife.” This is the beginning of the song that references Hozier wanting not to lose something but by holding it tighter, like water, it slips further away. It's too late like a wound you only clasp when you realise you’re losing too much blood. In the second verse, “You and I burned out our steam // Chasing someone else’s dream // How can something be so much heavier // But so much less than what it seems // Darling, we sacrificed // We gave our time to something undefined // This phantom life sharpens like an image // But it sharpens like a knife.” This second verse I want to be explored at the beginning of my writing.

Jacaerys and the Reader love each other dearly but because of the war, they are pushed too far away from each other. The Reader is logical and smart like Jacaerys, but because of this fact, they don’t realise that Jacaerys needs emotional support more than military support. Jacaerys far too stressed out by the war doesn’t realise that the Reader is just trying to help him. It all comes to hell the more people die because Jacaerys is given more and more responsibility and the Reader only wants to help by carrying the burden with him, something they don’t realise that Jace doesn’t need. It’s a whole lotta miscommunication mess with two semi-selfish people who just want to help.

Like the first part of the song, Jacaerys tries to hold the wound but it doesn’t work, the more he puts pressure the more blood seeps through. By the end of this section, he looks back to the throne, something he now doesn’t know if he wants or something he believes he wants as the person he loves isn’t with him anymore. Because this song references metamorphosis at the beginning of the album from De Selby part 1, I don’t want to just end it here. This is the end of the canon world of Jacaerys Velaryon but not the end of the story. Suddenly a uni-aged Jacaerys Velaryon wakes up and finds he’s in the arms of the Reader. He remembers he was dreaming something (his past life) but he doesn’t actually remember what it was. But in this life, there are hints of both him and the Reader being better versions of themselves. The Reader offers emotional support and Jacaerys listens to them.

#red ink reblogs

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lost-in-code · 2 years ago

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Cookie Run Kingdom Icons!

Reblog if you use!!

(But wait, there’s more!)

#cookie run kingdom #cookie run #edit icons #icons #crk icons #cr icons #reblog if your using these #isbus #pure vanilla cookie #red velvet cookie #licorice cookie #moon rabbit cookie #sea fairy cookie #affogato cookie #squid ink cookie #pastry cookie #twizzly gummy cookie

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smudged-red-ink · 10 months ago

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I just discovered these little maps in the notes. Why did no one tell me we were making beautiful organisms with our reblogs? We made that universe, right there.

#tumblr #reblogs #smudged red ink

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generousstarlightqueen · 2 years ago

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What will happen if I went away: best part collection

You will remember the only good about me

The looks and good habits maybe

You’ll then remember me with just love

You will want to forgive me for anything

You will want to text me more, talk to me just a little more

You will want to spend some more time with me

And me, I crave love, more than anything.

Im blind to ugliness when its labelled with love

But you know what, you will not want to do these many things until im here

Until you can, until you can actually reach.

you will not love me until you can reach me.

Because you my dear, don’t actually wanna reach me

That what’s me going away would do,

I wish I would remember times when I was loved

Loved until I felt enough of it, until I wanted to stay forever for it

But I remember the bad ones

Where I felt hate and regret over my existence

And that feels like always. Like an eternal universe

and I feel enough of hurt and hate

Why am I such an attraction for hate?

Why don’t I mind people who’d only hug my dead body but not me?

How come they’ll only hug me when im dead?

There are only people who would love me endlessly with my end.

#reblog #literature #spilled ink #virgina woolf #dark moodboard #depression #red ink #love deprived

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beepbeepdespair · 2 years ago

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i dont know why but recently i started writing in red ink and its just made everything so much better. where has this been all my life why does everyone stick to black and blue

#i stopped partway through writing this post to answer a message so the post just said 'i dont' and i very nearly posted it like that #it sums me up so well. i just dont #ok to reblog #beep beep gets personal #personal #textpost #text post #red ink #red #ink #black #blue #pens

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generousstarlightqueen · 2 years ago

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#reblog #literature #spilled ink #red ink

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inkareds · 1 year ago

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IM SORRY WHY DOES HE REMIND ME OF THAT ONE RED HAIRED CHARACTER IN SHREK 😭😭😭 IDK WHO IT IS BUT OMF AEGON/TOM U LOOK LIKE HIM HERE

Like a budget weasley 😭😭😭

Tom Glynn Carney

#tom glynn carney #aegon ii targaryen #hotd #red ink reblogs

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sluttylittlewaistenthusiast · 6 months ago

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╰┈➤ 18+ none of these stories belong to me! this is a masterlist of all the fanfics i’ve read and reblogged! just thought it would be nice to have them all in one spot! (if your fic is on here and you wish not to be, please let me know!) some will have summaries if provided <3

╰┈➤ a/n: 2022 me would skin me alive if she ever found out im being vocal abt liking eddie munson

ᡣ𐭩 how you can help palestine . fic recs m.list

@lokis-army-77

⭒ Cozy

Waking up the day after Eddie has fucked your brains out you have a little more fun.

⭒ Private Viewing

What happens when your favorite camboy is in your class? You should stop watching his content... or should you? What happens when you are eventually paired together for a project? Everything will be just fine, won't it?

@eddiemunsons-missingnipple

⭒ Next Caller

Eddie hosts a late night radio show for his college campus, where he discusses various different topics. He's mostly known for his DnD and sex talk segments. You've been a long-time listener who works up the courage to finally call in for some help.

⭒ You Look Lonely

Eddie finally had it all, success, money, and fame. There was still one tiny problem he had.

@ceriseheaven

⭒ Cockwarming with older!Eddie (blurb)

@natti-ice

⭒ “Let me taste you” (blurb)

⭒ "B-baby please, I'm gonna-" (blurb)

@msgexymunson

⭒ Shotgun

You're on a camping trip with your two friends, and the scariest guy from school: Eddie Munson. A few beers and some weed change the way you look at him however. Maybe he's not so scary after all. Cocky, oh yes, but not scary. Especially the way your legs start to squeeze together at the sight of him. But, does he like you, or is this some cruel game to play on the innocent band geek?

⭒ Benefits

Your best friend Eddie starts to look very appealing to you, but if you suggest a dynamic change, will he go for it?

⭒ Soft Touches

you and your dealer Eddie get a little closer than anticipated.

⭒ The Ink Shop

Desperate for a job, you answer an advertisement not knowing it's a tattoo shop. It's not particularly difficult work, except for one thing: having to deal with Eddie Munson.

@eddiethefreakkmunson

⭒ Not So Accidental Invitations

Tired of ignoring your ever growing attraction to your roommate Eddie you "accidentally" send him a partial nude, his reaction is everything you had hoped it would be and more...

@bimbobaggins69

⭒ Love in the Locker Room

you go into the boys locker room with a plan to steal the polaroids your now ex boyfriend took of you to show off to his friends, but the last thing you suspected was to be met with Eddie ‘the freak’ Munson and his very big friend.

@luveline

⭒ Topaz, Lime, Ruby Red

Eddie has a staring problem that you barely notice, though you share an aching, awful crush. One of you has to bend first, and it’s not who you’d expect.

⭒ Is It Getting Too Much?

you finally work up the courage to kiss Eddie for the first time and he can’t cope (even if he claims he can).

⭒ If It Barks

You don’t mean to make an enemy of Eddie Munson — he’s handsome and talented, but he’s the biggest jerk you’ve ever met. Eddie thinks you’re infuriatingly pretty, emphasis on the infuriating.

part one | part two | part three | part four |

⭒ Was That So Hard?

Your best friend Eddie tries to explain what a hickey feels like and finds he doesn't have the words. He could show you, though, if you want?

⭒ Dark Matter

You ask your best friend Eddie to give you your first kiss. Eddie's not really in the habit of saying no to you.

⭒ Something Extra

You're having trouble sleeping and pot seems like the only solution. Good thing your dealer, Eddie Munson, knows of another method that he's willing to to teach you. You get more than you bargained for when he tells you what he gets off to every night - you.

@usedtobecooler

⭒ Desperate!Eddie (blurb)

⭒ eddie "monstercock" munson

eddie ‘monstercock’ munson, who is painfully unaware of the sheer size of his dick.

@munson-blurbs

⭒ Dark and Stormy

A missing key and a terrible storm leaves you and Eddie stranded in the back of his van. What ever shall you do to pass the time?

@eiightysixbaby

⭒ Take A Dip?

eddie wants to get you in the water with him while you're alone at the community pool. he ends up getting a lot more than he bargained for.

@galaxy-siren

⭒ Biggest Fan

@lonelysatellites

⭒ Safe Hands

Sex has never been a pleasant experience for you. Selfish partners, anxiety, and pain have all ruined something that you should enjoy. You’re convinced there’s something wrong with you, but Eddie is determined to prove otherwise.

@eddiernunson

⭒ I Can Do It With A Broken Heart

You and Eddie have both had crap luck on dates lately, nothing that can't be fixed with a strawberry milkshake. However, he gets asked out on a date and it goes well...until it turns your life on its head and he forgets how to pick up the phone. You don't even care that he's dating someone else you just want your best friend back.

⭒ The Splash of Rain on the Roof

you're best friends with Eddie Munson after moving to Hawkins, the new girl who ditches the cheerleaders for the Freaks. A year later, you've fallen head over heels for him, and you're convinced there's no way he has any interest in you. It finally seems confirmed when you find out (more or less) that he's into a fucking cheerleader. Your heart breaks.

@bbyhellfire

⭒ missionary with eddie (drabble)

eddie didn't care for missionary until he meets you

@oneforthemunny

⭒ Soft!Eddie (blurb)

@kiwi-bitchez

⭒ The Girlfriend Experience

Eddie doesn’t think he’s cut out for dating. Self-resigned to a life of one and done hookups, you’re determined to make him see that he has the capacity to be a worthy companion… for when the right girl comes around.

@/gaybybirth on ao3

⭒ Double Feature

When you're forced to go to a double feature showing of the Halloween movies with your brother and his friends, you find yourself, like usual, interacting with Eddie Munson. But it doesn't take long for the platonic line to be blurred and things to heat up.

⭒ Show Me

You ask Eddie to show you what you've been missing out on after he discovers your boyfriend never went down on you.

@eds6ngel

⭒ Romantic!Eddie blurb

@gxtitobxby

⭒ The Princess and the Freak | Part 2

“I can’t help but dream of his head between my thighs, how his hair would feel against my—”

@/mediocredreams on ao3

⭒ Extra Credit

Your professor offers you a very personal in-home tutoring session.

@/ghostproofbaby on ao3

⭒ Twenty Four Hours

in which eddie munson and you absolutely hate each other's guts. what happens when your friends make a bet that you can't spend more than twenty four hours consecutively together?

(Y'ALL MUST READ IT ISTG ITS SO GOOD)

@/decembersfinest on ao3

⭒ Living After Midnight

Being a perpetual people-pleaser meant that you were constantly putting others before yourself--particularly your parents and the eccentric guests who stayed at their motel. But when a surly and mysterious musician checked in indefinitely, he flipped your whole world on its head.

@littlexdeaths

⭒ Band Practice

when band practice doesn’t go as planned…

@eddiexmunsonlover

⭒ One Step Away From You

You move back to Hawkins after 3 years away to finish out your senior year. Can you salvage the friendship you once had with your ex best friend, Eddie? Will you be able to push down your deeper feelings for him, or will it all come bubbling out in disaster?

@/nerdsarehot on ao3

⭒ A Kiss to Remember

⭒ Flustered

@/GreyPetticoats on ao3

⭒ Wing Man

Steve ‘the Hair’ Harrington is your best friend, and is constantly striking out. Sick of this, you two make a deal; you’ll wingman for each other. Hooking Steve up with dates is easy, but he finds himself struggling to find you a date. At least, until Dustin starts talking about his new cool friend Eddie.

@eddiesghxst

⭒ Riding Eddie drabble

@eddiemunchem

⭒ that puppy dog typa love

eddie is fiercely loyal, doting, and affectionate — when he’s enamored, you’re everything; his whole world. so just don’t mind the fact that he clings to you like a sloth to a tree, yeah?

#eddie munson #so what if im in love with eddie munson #mind your own business #I CANT KEEP ACTING LIKE HE ISNT A TOTAL BABE #stranger things #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fic #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #fic reccomendations #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson st4 #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson series

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aemondsbabe · 1 year ago

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Stick it Out to the End

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

pairing: michael gavey x bimbo!reader

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

word count: 12.7k

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

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

🩷 my masterlist

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

Michael

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What the –”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Look, I’m –”

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

“Problem over here, lads?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oi!”

“W-What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“W-What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“A normal amount?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I –”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How do –”

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

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

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

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

“N-No, I really don’t think –”

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

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

“Oh, really?”

“I… I have to fuck you –”

“Mhm?”

“And prove I did somehow.”

“How interesting!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, I –”

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

“I… I suppose.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“W-What?”

“You have a phone, yeah?”

“…Yeah?”

“One that can, like, take video?”

“Yes?”

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

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

“Film me.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah? You wanna?”

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

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

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

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

“You don’t want to anymore?”

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

“‘N what would that be?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Something funny?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“W-Well, yeah, but —“

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

“What does that mean?”

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

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

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

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

“You’re sure?”

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

Michael

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

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

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

11:47 AM.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So, initiates, what’ve you got?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Welcome to Bullingdon.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can you blame me?”

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

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

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

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

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

He has the real thing now.

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

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

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caramelloss · 2 months ago

Text

"you are my witch"

lilia calderu x reader • pure smut • 3.2k w/c

summary: you've been friends with lilia calderu for years. drunken from the poison of wine, you confess your love for the woman. although reluctant to admit her feelings, because she harbors a secret you don't know, you learn that lilia feels the same way. years of yearning come to an end, and you find yourself falling into your desires, unable to control what has been kept away for so long.

taglist: @setsuna1415 @honeypiperpizza123 @valarmorghuli @allseingeye @im-a-carnivorous-plant @worstendingever @ramblininsomnia @wandamaximoff-simp @mrsines @onlyv4use @kenzie-floops @screamsin-gay @numenamortenia @valkyrierain @babythere @inlovewithalcinadimitrescu @astrophilliaxx @giona45-5 @evilregal2002 @crescendoofstars @yourbasicqueerie @primalnight @darkangelchronicles @sapphic-girlss @thegoddamnfeels @doctormaviatorres @i-hate-most-insects @brisgayshit97 @iheartmilfzzsposts @redrouge7e7as @novavala @finnza @wandringlightsaber @romanoffsho @kingpreciouswrld @emilyprentitss @elobv10 @wandasreallover @kaypastore38 @thegayassbit-ch @marinalunaestrella @gryffindor-forlife @lorrainemylove @anais-casablanca @girlwithissuesworld @ofgoldandbraid @justgaygirlthings @beachhausu @deathly777 @confuseuniverse @eepyvampy @whyilovewomen @r-3-becca @roksana6448 @bugcolector @etw12 @heartsfromelle @zyguard118 @thelesbianapollokid4 @opossum-in-disguise @snoopyaah @amberwhale @marisacoulterswife @ionlylikefictionalpeople @derry-n @evie-101 @ganyulover123

author's note: so first i'd like to just THANK all of you for blowing up my post asking for who'd like to be tagged, because the taglist isn't even done, i can't fit them all in the blog. also, i tagged you if you liked or reblogged the tag ask post, because i bolded i would tag those who liked or reblogged. second; i'm sorry this isn't a longer fic. it was originally planned to be, but i don't want to use my idea i came up with in a one chapter fic, i'd like it to be used in a longer more meaningful one. i really hope you enjoy this. if you have any positive, negative, or general feedback, please let me know! i want to become the best author i can be for you guys. also, i'd love to receive any asks for fanfiction or one shots! i'm currently focused on my big multi character x reader fic, but im 100% open to and willing to write for your requests.

content includes: fingering, oral stimulation, biting, praise, hair pulling, pet name usage

you noticed the difference in her eyes like it was bolded in bright red ink. her smile fell, like an angel to descend from heaven. 'this is it' you thought, 'she’ll hate me.' you turned away in shame, your heart dropped. words flooded out, stupid, careless words. "i love you, lilia."

you couldn't bear to look, you feared the disagreement would show on her face. your body tenses, and you scrunch the bridge of your nose with your fingers. you expect her to tell you to get out, or leave.. but you hear nothing.

but you feel, oh, you feel.

you feel her behind you, closer than when you had muttered those stupid, damning words. her fingers gently traced your neck, and you closed your eyes, the yearning in your soul up to its brink of expression. each breath you take is shaky, is heavy. you tilt your head aside, desperate to feel her warmth on your skin forever.

you open your eyes when you feel her breath on your neck. she must've noticed your body's reaction, because she paused, and remained still. lilia traces her fingers down your body, to your hips. she stops here, her lips close to your ears, as her body presses into your back.

you lean into her, your head slightly leaning back, at the pure and utter pleasure you feel being so close to her. her lips part, and with such composure, yet so little solidity, she delivers a line that would come to send shivers down your spine. "i have loved you since i saw you the first time, long ago. i am consumed and rattled by you at every waking second.." her hands pull you in, and you hum at the gesture. your eyes are closed, not because you hate this, or don't want to be there, but because the way you long for her in this moment now is too painful for you to bear. a lump forms in your throat when you feel her wet cheek graze your neck. she was in tears, and you needed to console her; but how? how should you console her now? you did not have much time to think. her lips, warm, soft, and gentle, were on your neck. the kiss she blessed your skin with felt like one that existed prior to the world, and forever past the present. it was torture, it was devastation, when she pulled away. it hurt, it was brutal.. so brutal, your lips parted, and you gasped quietly. your hand reached back for her head, and you enveloped your fingers in the curly, silver locks of her hair. you held her head close to yours, as her thumbs rubbed gently upon your hips. her voice broke as she completed her confession, and your heart broke with it; you'd do anything to protect her, to keep her from harm. "i'm a witch, y/n.. how could you ever love a witch?"

your eyes opened, and you stopped breathing, for just a moment. you were sure you'd heard wrong. with a furrowed brow, and a worrisome expression, you broke away from her touch, from her hold. you turned to her, and your head tilted to the side, as tears began to form in your waterline. the sight of her, so weak, so doubtful of herself, so ashamed.. your heart shattered like a broken mirror.

her face was lined with streaks of wet. she had cried for this, she suffered for it. she couldn't even look at you, her eyes were avert.

your hands raced to cup her cheeks, and you gently wipe away her tears. her lips part, in astonishment, followed by her eyes meeting your gaze. finally, you saw those beautiful eyes again. your heart skipped a thousand beats at the sight of those irises. you smile, and your face softens. "lilia.." you whisper, your forehead pressed against hers now, "i've loved you since the sun rose opposite the moon. i've chased you in all of my wildest dreams. i've loved you in every moment and i would not stop because of what you are or are not." at your notation, her lips fold into a smile. she grabs your wrists softly, holding them. once more you spoke, "you are my witch, my little piece of divinity. you are mine, and my heart is yours." you watch as her eyes move from your eyes to your lips, and you wish for nothing but her to kiss you.

after all these years, of being her "friend", you have never wanted anything more than for her to kiss you. it's like an insatiable hunger you cannot destroy.

lilia bites her lip, and she grabs your chin with her pointer finger and her thumb. you start to breath heavy, and your heart begins to race. she brings your face to hers, so close that your lips graze against one another’s. you ache for her, you long for her. you need to taste her, to merge your body, your soul, your heart, with hers. you need her to kiss you.

and she does. her lips mesh with yours in perfect harmony, like the melody of heaven’s sea. your mind is adrift, clouded. you cannot form a thought, you do not desire to form a thought. her unaccompanied hand caresses the small of your back, and you pull her closer with the hands you hold on her face.

she slips her tongue along your bottom lip, and you moan softly into the kiss. her grip on your chin releases, and she holds your jaw instead. she guides you through the long, heart-felt kisses. her lips control your body, your mind.

warmth builds between your thighs, and your head is still covered by nothing but a blanket of emptiness. lilia is the first to pull away, her lack of oxygen in her lungs being the culprit. you curse the living necessity of air.

you yourself breathe heavy, panting almost. lilia’s lipstick is smudged, and you smirk at the notion that you've just kissed this marvel of a woman. she notices your cocky smile, and a single eyebrow lifts. she now wore a smirk herself.

“you're looking at me like you've just seen me naked, y/n.” you chuckle when she says this. “while i wouldn't be opposed to that, i'm just a little satisfied with the fact that in the midst of kissing me, you forgot about your lipstick.”

her smirk faded and her lips parted again, she pop looked offended, but you could tell it was just her beautiful sense of sarcasm.

“fix it for me?” she asked this with a lower tone and a wink, and you felt your core throb at the sound of her voice. she wanted you to kiss her again.

you ran your tongue across your bottom lip, and you couldn't help your smile. her hands guided your face close, and you pushed a curl behind her ear. she grew desperate, unable to wait. her lips caught yours, and you shut your eyes at the contact. in your head you pictured her eyes, beautiful and brown, like the rock embedded and shaded on the side of a mountain. your grip on her hair tightened as she pushed you back softly, making sure not to break the kiss. her lips were soft, so soft it felt like the comfort a pillow brings in the hour of sleep. you moan as your lower back makes contact with her counter, and your head leans back, which breaks the embrace.

the wetness between your thighs grows, and you figure your underwear must be utterly ruined. lilia's fingers stroked your hair, and she shook her head slightly, a whisper following shortly. "let me taste you.. every inch of you.." you bite your lip, and hold her gaze, nodding hesitantly; even though you don't feel hesitant on your answer at all. her smirk returns, and her hands descend, down from your hair to your neck. she drags them further down, past your shoulders. she stops at where the unbuttoned cardigan opens, pushing the material off of your arms and body. her warmth intoxicates you when her skin brushes against yours. she plants hot kisses on your upper arms, which are exposed because of the camisole top you wore.

her hands found the straps to your shirt, and she pulled them down slowly, kissing the empty place they used to cover. you tense, and your eyes shut as your lips purse together while you try to conceal the soft hum of pleasure you make.

lilia's fingers pull away the top, leaving you completely naked and exposed from your waist up. she smiles at the sight, her hands cupping your breasts. you feel the slick between your legs, it seems the inner part of your thighs had gotten soaked by extension.

her thumbs grazed over your nipples, and the sensation was enough to drive you wild. you pulled her head into the curve of your neck, your lips parted as soft moans escaped. she chuckles and her lips start to kiss your neck.

your knees go weak, simply from the ecstasy her lips brings you. her thumbs lose the feel of your sensitive buds, and she begins to creep down your throat. she leaves sloppy kisses down your collarbone, and down to your nipples. her eyes close as she takes one into her mouth, suckling on the sweet spot. your eyes fall back, and you inhale, biting down onto your lip to stop yourself from being loud. her fingers play with your lone nipple, and you feel as though you will not be able to take much more of this before becoming pathetic for her.

the witch releases your areola from her mouth and takes in the other, her tongue lapping around the bundle of nerves. her hands trace the curves of your body. they pause when she's reached your hips, and she digs her nails into your skin. the pain blends with the pleasure beautifully, and it's as if they are interchangeable.

you breathe heavily, your stomach twitching when she starts to drag her lips down your stomach. your pussy was so wet that she could smell the scent of arousal from your waistline. her fingers pulled up the black skirt you wore, and it revealed your soaked nude panties. she chuckled, looking up at you with eyes that were darkened and overwhelmed with lust. she bit her lip and furrowed her brow, which made you roll your eyes.

“you're so wet, darling. i could just devour you.” you gently pull her hair, forcing her head back a little. she smirks, and you pout. “please, i need you” you say, pleading for her tongue, for her fingers, for her to be the one to shape you into a mess of a woman.

she winks, bringing her mouth to your inner thigh. she leaves kisses along your skin, and it seems as though she’s teasing you. her eyes stay locked onto yours with each touch of her lips, she wants to see your face as she tortures you.

your hands release her hair, and grab onto the counter behind you, your nails scratch the surface with each new touch. her eyes look so dark, and it turns you on even more.

but your view of them is gone as she bites into your other thigh. her teeth are sharp, and your jaw drops, you whimper. her teeth release, and she kisses the bite mark. you open your eyes to see it, to see the mark she had left. it was dark red, and your expression changed, you felt your core throb uncontrollably, and you grabbed her head by her hair, guiding her to your cunt. your eyes pleaded with her.

lilia opened her mouth and licked the wet slick on your panties, all while looking you dead in the eyes. the touch was faint, but it was all your body needed to jerk up. it was so cruel, the way she left you needy and desperate for her. you couldn't think beyond her tongue on your clit, or her fingers buried in your warm folds.

she bit the material of your under garment, pulling it slowly down your legs. her eyes were stolen away by the sight of you completely naked and in front of her, soaked, ruined. you were such a slut for her. you wonder if she would tease you about how soiled you got for her later down the line.

the witch sighed, and her lips kissed the very inside of your thighs, right beside where you writhed for her. you thought you might faint.

using your hand, you rubbed her cheek, shaking your head at the sight of her, down on her knees, ready to please you.

she turned her face, kissing your gentle fingers. you smiled, and you took a deep breath as she brought her face as close as possible to your core. her eyes were focused on your face, you could tell she wanted to watch your face as she ate you out. so typical of her.

her face buried between your legs, her tongue circling your clit. your hands shot behind you to the counter once more, desperate to hold yourself up. your eyes closed, and your back arched. the moan that echoed through the room was inevitable. she took her time, finding the nerves that were more sensitive and paying more attention to them. you thought she must've found you stupid to be so wet and needy for her.

her tongue sped up, and she took your clit into her mouth, suckling the bud. you couldn't control the way your hips bucked, or the way your knees fell wobbly and weak. her hands grabbed your hips to stabilize her, and she pulled her mouth away in a flash.

you were worrisome, you thought maybe you'd messed up, or maybe she'd realized she didn't want you like this. it was almost heartbreaking to feel her pull away.

she had never stopped looking at you, though. you of course couldn't tell because your eyes had closed before out of the extremity of what you were feeling.

she looked serious, determined, but her eyes were still as dark as before. you blush at the sight of her face covered in your taste, your slick. her mouth opened, and you heard every word with such a heavy impact. “do not close your eyes again. i want to see your eyes, your face, at every moment. do you understand?”

your heart starts to race again, there was just something so inexplicable about the way her words made you feel. you nod your head, scared that if you spoke your words would be jumbled. she didn't accept it though, her voice changed, from demanding to mischievous. “you understand..? what do you understand, dear? how does it make you feel..? tell me how i make you feel.”

you bite your lip, looking up at the ceiling. maybe you were throwing up a prayer that you wouldn't mess up, or maybe you were just trying to prepare yourself for what she wanted from you. her right hand slipped from your hip, and you didn't notice, so fixated on her request. you went to start speaking, but as you did, you felt her fingers inside of you.

your head leaned back, and you closed your eyes. a hushed “fuck!”, was followed by a loud humming. she smirked, “what did i say about closing your eyes, baby?”

you forced them open, forced them to lock their gaze down onto her own. you wanted to make her happy. you needed to please her just as badly as you needed her to make you cum.

“i'm sorry, darling—” as you began again, her fingers started to pump inside of your pussy, and your mouth lay agape. she didn't stop, even as you took a moment to continue, and you took a deep breath.

“you want me to look— oh, fuck.. god.” it was like she went faster with each word you spoke. you took note of her devilish grin, thinking that you'd someday get your revenge. “you want me to look at you, you want to see me when— shit!” your body flinches as she curls her digits inside you, her speed still gradually increasing. “come on, princess, you're doing so good” she whispered this against your clit, right before sucking it into her mouth again.

you bit your lip and your hands pulled her by the hair, just giving you something to hold onto. “when i cum for you, when i'm just a puddle for you.. you want to see me when i take your fingers!”

the words came out shaky, spaced between your moans and whimpers. her fingers started to go as fast as they could, and lilia lapped her tongue around your wet clit, stimulating every single part of your cunt. she was still looking at you. you held her gaze as you started to tremble, your body shaking as it came to the brink of an orgasm.

you finished your thought, giving her what she asked of you. “it makes me feel like abandoning everything for you, to have you like this, every second, every moment.”

her eyes closed, and you watched her remain between your thighs. your body hit a climax, and your hips bucked up, your back arching. you yelled for her, her name. your eyes rolled to the back of your head and you bit your lip to muffle any further sounds as she fucked you through your orgasm.

when you had came, your white fluid casing over her fingers, she pulled her mouth away from your clitoris.

you, with your head still fuzzy, had managed to pull her back up to you by her hair. her lips were so wet because of you. you immediately pull her in to kiss you, tasting yourself on her tongue and lips. she pulled away, breaking the contact. her teeth captured your bottom lip and you sighed when she pulled it back.

lilia’s lips started kissing your neck, and she brought them to your ear, whispering hushedly, “clean your pretty little mess, my love.”

you whimper, and you open your lips, as she slips her two cum-covered fingers inside of your mouth. you suck off your fluid, and the growing wetness between your legs returns.

the older witch laughs, kissing your neck again. her lips find yours once more, and she kisses you like there is no other action in this world. her tongue invades your mouth, as she tastes the sweetness that remains.

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