#and a hand-kiss to the allies

[rockingtheorange]

Happy coming out day to everyone 🏳️‍🌈

Friendly reminder that Alex, both in the book and movie, wasn't aware of being bisexual. He went through the process of questioning himself, his desires and discovered he's also into guys. He hooked up with men before but didn't question his sexuality until Henry happened, and it's valid. He asked for help from a friend to put a word to his sexuality and came out to both his parents, scared (both times) that they'd reject him in any way. Luckily, they were understanding and I wish everyone in the community could have the same parents.

Henry, on the other hand, has always known he is gay but grew up in an environment that forced him to hide it. When coming out to the royal family, not everyone accepted him or helped him, but at least Alex was there. Henry didn't have a supportive family but, sometimes, a few understanding people like Alex and Beatrice can make a difference ❤

I hope everyone in the community spends a great day and, maybe someday, coming out won't even be necessary to accept each other as we are.

If anyone wants to share stories or talk about something, feel free to reply to this post or slide in my dms 🫶

[skateboardtotheheart]

it's not a want but a NEED for tommy and buck to be the softest loveliest relationship ever, it is IMPORTANT

[cerealbishh]

I will love you, until the end of time. // I love you, I love you more than I ever thought I could.

🎥: @cwamc @starcuffedjeans @bikinibottomdayz

[danwhobrowses]

So Callowmoores am I alone in thinking it was cute that Fearne helped carry Ashton to the city? Like there's the parallel also with Ashton carrying her into the Bloody Bridge as well

[crystalpallette]

the fact that rafisol is weak to ally's puppy eyes is crucial information. sega please port puzzle pop so I can have this information forever thanks

[jackass-jones]

I always heard people say that Layla should’ve gotten with Warren Peace instead of Will in sky high but guys come on it’s 2023 we all all know she and warren were just bearding for each other I’m sick of pretending they weren’t

[florallychaotic]

Recreating footage of me hiding behind my chair during Baldur's Gate 3 romance/flirting scenes

[aletterinthenameofsanity]

Y'know, there's this gripe I've had for years that really frustrates me, and it has to do with Love, Simon and people joking about it and calling it too-pg and designed-for-straight-people and all the like. (A similar thing has happened to Heartstopper, but that's another conversation.)

I saw Love, Simon in theaters when it came out my senior year in high school. I saw it three times, once with my friends/parents on opening night, once with my brother over spring break, and once with my grandparents.

On opening night, the air in the room was electric. It was palpable. Half the heads in there were dyed various colors. Queer kids were holding hands. We were all crying and laughing and cheering as a group. My friends grabbed my hands at the part where Simon was outed and didn't let go until his parents were saying that they accepted him. My friend came out to me as non-binary. Another person in our group admitted that she had feelings for girls. It was incredible. I left shaking. This was the first mainstream queer romance movie that had ever been produced by one of the main five studios, and I know that sounds like another "first queer character from Disney" bit but you have to understand that even in 2018 this was groundbreaking. Getting to have a sweet queer rom-com where the main character was told that he got "to breathe now" after coming out meant so much to me and my friends.

But also, from a designed-for-straight-people POV (which, to be frank, it was written by a bisexual author and directed by a gay man, this was not designed for straight audiences), why is it a bad thing that it appealed to the widest possible audience? That it could make my parents and grandparents see things in a new light? My stepdad wasn't at all interested in rom-coms but he saw it with me because it was something I cared about and he hugged me when we came out of the theater. My very Catholic grandparents watched it with me and though my grandpa said he still didn't quite understand the whole 'gay thing,' all he wanted was for me to be happy and to have a happy ending like Simon did. My Nana actually cried when Simon came out and squeeze my hand when his mother told him he could breathe.

And when Martin blackmailed Simon, my mom, badass ally that she is, literally hissed "Dropkick him. Dropkick him in the balls" leading to multiple queer kids in the audience to laugh or smile. Having my parents there- the only parents, by the way, out of my group of queer and questioning friends- made multiple people realize that supportive adults were out there. That parents like those in Love, Simon do exist in real life.

When people complain about Heartstopper not being realistic or Love, Simon being too cutesy, I remember seeing Love, Simon on opening night. I remember my friend coming out and my stepdad hugging me and my mom defending us through this character. I remember the cheers that went through the audience when Bram and Simon kissed and the chatter in the foyer after the movie was over and the way that this movie made me understand that happy endings do exist.

Queer kids need happy endings. Straight people need entry points to becoming allies. Both of these things can come together in beautiful ways. They can find out about more queer culture later, but for now, let them have this. Let them all have a glimpse at a better, happier world. Let them have queer joy.

[heavysighing-dreamyeyes]

Priority One

You come first for Jason ~800 words

At his core, Jason Todd puts himself last. He's the first to jump in front of a bullet, first charge into a burning fire, first to drop dead center into a group of thugs.

It's not that he doesn't care about his safety, it's just that he deems his safety as lesser. He's stronger, sturdier, and if he's the one that goes down instead of someone else? That's a good thing.

He knows people would worry. People would miss him. But they'd move on the same way they did before. They would fill the gaps in the spaces he leaves, and there wouldn't be a need to pick the pieces off the floor because nothing would break at his loss.

At least, that used to be the truth. It was the truth until you nestled your way into his heart, and he somehow became a fixture in your life. He didn't mean to do it, didn't mean to make you fall in love with him, and he certainly didn't mean to fall in love with you.

But he did.

And now he makes sure you sleep on the inside on the bed, safe between the wall and him. He walks between you and the road, always on guard for swerving cars and shady civilians. He checks your apartment during patrol, though it's more for his peace of mind than yours.

Jason Todd still puts himself last, but the thought of you comes first, when he dives into the line of fire. If he doesn't come home, who's going to fix the leaky faucet or take out the trash when it gets full?

You could do it, he knows you could, but he doesn't want you to have to. So, he upgrades his armor when he would normally put it off. He's quicker to stop the blood dripping from his wounds. He's more aware, when he's shifting through the shadows of an enemy base.

He never worried about what he would leave behind. Not until you started to kiss his jaw before his nightly patrol, not until you started to reach for him every time he came home, beckoning him to your side and under the waiting, warm blankets.

He worries now. He makes plans, sets aside money, and makes his closest allies promise to keep an eye on you if he ever can't. He becomes your shield, whether you're aware of it or not, he has you covered.

You're his priority, and in becoming so, he's slowly becoming a priority, too. You're happier when he's okay, so he steadies his reckless tendencies. He dismantles the bomb in his helmet. He turns on his tracker for Oracle to keep an eye on.

For all the times he looks after himself, it's with you on his mind. He double checks his gear because he needs to pick up paper towels on the way home for you. He cleans his grappling hook because you asked him if he wanted to go out to dinner and a movie tomorrow.

He waits for backup before breaking up Penguin's latest smuggling ring because you recommended a book for him to read, and he only has a handful of chapters left to finish.

It's you, and you, and you again, that gives him a reason to want to make it to sunrise. It's you, that makes him really want to live.

He wants to see coast cities and tiny forest towns outside of whatever crime he's hunting down. He wants to travel and explore and try everything and anything– as long as it's with you.

He'd give up the world, give up everything he knows, as long as he can give you what you want. But all you ever ask, even if it's not in so many words, is for him to come home. So he does. Every night. Every day. Every time. Jason Todd finds his way back to you because your wants are his first concern.

He sheds his armor and kicks off his boots and leaves everything but the thought of you at your windowsill. He smiles when you murmur your sleepy greetings because he knows you think his smiles are pretty. He checks the locks and changes into the pajama set that matches with yours because you giggle every time you see it.

And all these things are so little yet so big all in one. They fill the cracks beneath his skin, and when he finally has you in his arms again, Jason Todd knows that nothing will be greater than this, than you.

There is no adversary, no injury or mission, that would have his gaze from straying from his singular goal; making it back to your arms to fill your days with all you deserve. With joy. With love. And for as long as you desire it, with him.

[greengoblinswifey]

Reunited— Luigi Mangione x Fem!Reader

summary— You’re reunited with your boyfriend luigi and he shows you just how much he missed you.

warnings— fingering, slight voyeurism, oral(f!receiving) praise kink, bit of crying but luigi comforts you, L bombs, unprotected sex, breeding kink, creampie, aftercare, fluff.

a/n— originally posted on my ao3, where there’s another luigi fic <3 FREE MY MF MAN!

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿

Luigi Mangione was not just another face in the crowd, he was a polarizing figure. He gained national attention after allegedly carrying out a calculated act of vengeance against a corrupt CEO you couldn’t care less about. He claimed his actions were a response to widespread exploitation and inequality in the healthcare system and you were 100% on board.

After leaving behind a manifesto that exposed systemic greed and corruption, he disappeared, sparking an instant nationwide search. Supporters hailed him as a modern day vigilante, while detractors condemned him as a criminal. You were by his side through it all, not only as his girlfriend but as his confidant and staunchest ally.

You had met Luigi three years ago at a charity gala. While his presence was understated, his charisma was undeniable. You had a passion for uncovering the truth and you were drawn to his fiery intellect and his conviction to make a difference. When he confided in you about his disillusionment with the corporate world and his dream to spark real change, you stood by him, even as the risks escalated.

When the authorities finally caught him, it shattered your world. Luigi was supposed to be halfway across the country by then, safe and untouchable. But fate had other plans.

After days of navigating legal hurdles, your boyfriend was granted bail thanks to the efforts of the legal team you assembled and the donations pouring in from his legion of supporters. The day you picked him up from jail was a whirlwind of emotions. Crowds of people gathered outside the facility, holding signs and chanting his name. The media swarmed like vultures, cameras flashing as Luigi emerged, his posture unyielding despite the chaos.

The car was parked a block away, avoiding the thick of the chaos. As he stepped out, the crowd screamed. He lifted his hand in acknowledgment, his voice cutting through the noise.

“Read the manifesto,” he said, his tone commanding yet calm. “The answers you seek are in there.”

The crowd erupted, some cheering, others debating. But Luigi didn’t linger. He moved toward you, his gaze softening the moment he saw you waiting.

The lawyer drove the two of you to a safe house on the outskirts of the city. You couldn’t take your eyes off him, noticing the tension in his shoulders and the faint bruising along his jawline.

“Baby, did they hurt you?” you asked, your voice trembling.

He exhaled, brushing your concern aside. “Nothing I couldn’t handle. I’m just angry they didn’t let me speak.”

You reached for his hand, lacing your fingers with his. “They’ll hear you soon enough. You’ve already started something they can’t ignore.”

His eyes softened as he turned to you. “I missed you,” he murmured, his hand finding your thigh. “Every damn second I was in that shithole.”

You smiled, leaning closer. “You’re here now. That’s all that matters.”

He kissed you deeply, his hand tightening its grip. “You’ve been my anchor through all of this. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

The car ride felt impossibly long as the reality of the situation weighed down on you. You kept glancing at Luigi, his sharp profile shown by the fleeting city lights. Despite the calm mask he wore, you could see the exhaustion in his eyes.

You reached over, your fingers brushing his arm. “I was so scared for you,” you whispered, your voice breaking. Tears began to spill before you could stop them.

Luigi turned to you immediately, his expression softening. “Don’t cry, amore. I’m here now,” he murmured, pulling you closer. He pressed a series of tender kisses to your cheeks, wiping away the tears with his thumbs.

“It’s just so unfair,” you choked out. “The media, the critics—they don’t know you like I do. You’re not some monster. You’re brave, kind, and caring. You only wanted to help people.”

He cupped your face, his gaze locking with yours. “Let them say what they want. I don’t need their approval. I have you, and that’s all I care about.”

You leaned into him, his words wrapping around your heart like a balm. “I just don’t want to lose you again.”

“You won’t,” he promised, his voice low and steady. “No one can keep me from you.”

As the car drove deeper into the night, Luigi’s hand found its way to your thigh, his touch warm against your skin. He glanced down at your dress, his lips curving into a sly smile.

“You look so sexy in this,” he murmured, his voice a husky whisper. “Did you wear it for me?”

“Yes,” you admitted, heat rushing to your face.

He chuckled softly, his fingers tracing circles on your thigh. “Good. Because it’s driving me crazy.”

He leaned closer, his lips brushing against your neck. You shivered as he placed a trail of slow kisses along your skin. “You smell amazing,” he murmured against you.

His hand slid higher, and when his fingers brushed your bare pussy, he froze for a moment before letting out a low, appreciative moan. “You’re not wearing anything underneath?” he asked.

You shook your head, your breath hitching.

“Naughty girl,” he whispered, his voice laced with both amusement and desire. His fingers trailed to your clit, the heat of his touch making you bite your lip to keep from making a sound.

“Luigi,” you whispered, your voice trembling with both anticipation and the need for discretion.

“Shh, amore,” he said, his lips still pressed to your neck. “Be good for me. Stay quiet.”

His fingers moved with purpose, his slow circles on your clit sending your nerves into a frenzy. “You’re so perfect,” he murmured, his breath hot against your ear. “I missed this, missed you.”

The car hit a bump, jolting you both, and you bit back a gasp as he slipped a finger into you immediately, your hand gripping his arm tightly.

Up front, the lawyer cleared his throat, oblivious. “Almost there,” he said.

Luigi smirked, his fingers still working their magic. “Good. But not soon enough,” he whispered, his lips brushing your ear as he praised you softly.

His touch became more deliberate, his fingers moving in a way that left you struggling to suppress your reactions. His gaze flicked up to yours, a teasing smirk playing on his lips.

“You’re doing so well for me, amore,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing. “I can feel how much you missed me from how wet you are.”

Your breath hitched as he praised you, his movements precise and slow, building that feeling inside. He kissed the side of your neck again, murmuring against your skin, “I love seeing you like this, knowing I’m the only one who can make you feel this way.”

You buried your face in the crook of his neck, biting to suppress your moans as his fingers curled inside you with his thumb rubbing your clit.

“I can’t—” you breathed, biting your lip to quiet yourself as your orgasm built.

“Cum for me, beautiful,” he whispered, speeding up his movements.

You bit onto his shoulder, using your other hand to pull him onto you as your orgasm ripped through you like a knife. You really hoped the seats weren’t messy.

The car slowed as it neared the safe house, and Luigi reluctantly withdrew his hand, his eyes dark with unspoken promises. “Just wait til’ we’re inside,” he said softly, his fingers brushing your chin as he gave you a quick, knowing smile.

His lawyer parked the car in front of the nondescript safe house, stepping out to hold the door for both of you. Luigi exited first, straightening his suit jacket before reaching for your hand. “Thank you,” he said curtly to the lawyer, who nodded and drove off into the night.

The moment you were inside, Luigi shut the door, locking it and turned to you, his expression filled with an intensity that took your breath away.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you,” he said, his voice rough as he pulled you close. His hands framed your face as he kissed you deeply, his body pressing you back against the nearest wall.

“Lui—,” you whispered, your hands tangling in his hair as his lips moved to your neck, leaving a trail of kisses that made your knees weak.

“You’re mine,” he said firmly, his voice filled with both affection and possessiveness.

His hands roamed down your sides, gripping your waist as he pulled you even closer. “I’m going to remind you how much I missed you,” he said, his voice a mix of promise and passion.

Luigi carried you effortlessly, his strong arms wrapping you in the warmth of safety as he navigated the unfamiliar safe house. He gently kicked open the door to what you assumed was the bedroom, setting you down on the soft mattress. His touch was soft, fingers lingering on your shoulders as he slid your straps off, his eyes scanning every inch of you like he was seeing you for the first time.

“Do you have any idea how much I missed you?” he murmured, his voice filled with longing.

Your response was barely a whisper. “I’ve thought about you every second.”

He tilted your chin upward, his lips brushing yours in a kiss that deepened with every passing moment. As he undid the zipper of your dress, his movements were deliberate yet gentle. The fabric pooled at your feet, and his breath hitched slightly as his gaze took your naked body in.

“You’re beautiful,” he said, his tone awestruck. His fingers threaded through your braids, tugging softly as he kissed you again, his lips tracing a path down your jawline and neck.

Your hands instinctively found his curls, tangling in them as he lowered himself to his knees before you. “Baby,” you whispered, the emotion in your voice evident.

“Shh,” he replied softly, his lips brushing your skin. “I need to take care of you first. Tell me how much you missed me.”

“I missed you so much,” you said, voice trembling with emotion. “I love you, Luigi.”

“I love you more than anything. Let me show you just how much,” he replied.

His hands caressed your thighs, his lips trailing kisses down your skin. His touch was reverent, almost as if he were worshiping every inch of you, his deep brown eyes gazing up with adoration.

“You’re perfect,” he murmured, his voice soft yet full of conviction. “Every part of you.”

His lips pressed against your pelvis, leaving a trail of warmth and affection that sent a shiver through your body. Each kiss was slow and deliberate, his presence grounding you even as your heartbeat quickened.

“Luigi,” you breathed, your voice trembling with emotion and pleasure. Your hand instinctively reached for his curls, tangling in them as he smiled against your pussy.

“Let me take care of you,” he said. “You’ve been so good for me—so patient, so strong.”

Your head tilted back, overwhelmed by the sensation of his devotion. His praises washed over you like a balm, soothing the ache of the days you’d spent apart.

His tongue moved with precision, licking your clit as he used his fingers to spread your juices across your hole. A gasp left your lips as he moved down, slipping his tongue inside your pussy then continuing his movements on your clit.

“You’re everything to me,” he continued, his hands gently gripping your hips as he sucked your clit. “I don’t deserve how good you’ve been throughout this, but I’ll spend my life proving how much I love you.”

His voice alone sent a rush of warmth through you, every syllable filled with sincerity. “I love you too,” you whispered, your voice breaking slightly as your emotions surged.

Luigi’s lips curved into a small smile. “You’re too good to me, but I’ll never take it for granted.”

The sincerity in his voice made your heart swell. Every touch, every flick of his tongue was a promise that he would always cherish you, protect you.

He didn’t rush a single movement, cherishing the connection between you. You cried out as you gripped his curls tighter, your orgasm threatening to spill over.

“God baby, I can feel you clamping around my tongue, it’s okay, you can cum for me,” he urged.

With his name on your lips like a prayer, you trembled as you squirted on his tongue. He slurped your juices, guiding you through your high and savoring your taste.

When he finally finished and stood up, his arms pulled you close, cradling you as if shielding you from the world. “You’re my everything,” he whispered. “I’ll never let anything happen to us. I promise you that.”

Your hand rested on his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. “I believe you,” you said softly.

He smiled, brushing a strand of your braids from your face. “Good.”

Luigi’s chuckled as you gently ran your fingers along his chest, stripping him off his clothes then pushing him to sit on the edge of the bed. His dark eyes glimmered with warmth, his hands lightly brushing against your waist.

“You’ve done so much for me,” you murmured, leaning closer, your voice low but full of intent. “Now it’s my turn to show you how much I’ve missed you.”

His gaze softened, his hands sliding to your wrists as if to stop you. “You don’t have to do anything, amore,” he said, his voice tender. “Just having you here, holding you, it’s enough.”

You pouted but decided not to be a brat this once. “Whatever you say baby, anything you want.”

Luigi sat back, his strong arms pulling you onto him as if he couldn’t bear even a second without your closeness. He settled you against his chest, your bodies perfectly aligned, his heart beating steadily beneath your ear. “So obedient,” he murmured, his lips brushing your temple before moving to your forehead for a lingering kiss.

He tilted your chin up gently, his dark eyes locking with yours. “Are you sure?” he asked, his voice low and gravelly. “I need to hear you say it.”

You nodded, your breath catching. “I’ve been craving this—craving you—this whole time,” you whispered, your words trembling with sincerity.

That was all the encouragement he needed. His lips met yours in a deep kiss, one that spoke of everything unspoken, the longing, the love, the relief of being together again. His hands caressed your ass, grounding you as he shifted beneath you.

He paused, his movements deliberate, as he guided his cock against your pussy. “Slowly, baby,” he murmured, his hands firm but gentle on your hips. “I want you to feel every inch of me.”

A gasp escaped your lips as he sank deep inside you, your body adjusting to the slow, deliberate rhythm he set. “That’s it,” he praised, his voice rough with restrained need. “You’re perfect—so tight, so ready for me.”

Your nails dug lightly into his chest as the intensity built, his words spurring you on. “You can take it, baby,” he murmured, his lips ghosting over your collarbone. “You’re so incredible.”

Luigi's praises, whispered against your skin, grounded you in the moment. “You feel like heaven, amore,” he said, his voice breaking slightly as he kissed you again, swallowing your soft cries.

Luigi’s grip on your hips tightened, as he guided you into a slow, deliberate rhythm. Each thrust was purposeful, his body rising to meet yours. “That’s it, princess,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your jawline. “You’re so perfect. I’ve missed you more than you can imagine.”

You clung to him, your fingers tangling in his curls as he set a steady pace. Every thrust was measured, filling you and making your breath hitch. “You’re taking me so well,” he whispered, his voice breaking with restrained emotion. “I can feel how much you’ve missed me.”

Your head tilted back, exposing your throat as his lips pressed against your skin, leaving a trail of kisses that make you shiver. “Luigi,” you gasped, your voice trembling.

“Shh, amore,” he soothed, his hands running up and down your spine as he adjusted the angle slightly, his cock moving inside your wet pussy deliberate and controlled. “Let me take care of you. Just feel me.”

His thrusts deepened, his hips rolling in a way that sent shivers down your spine. “You’re so beautiful like this,” he murmured, his dark eyes locked on yours, filled with unspoken affection and need. “So perfect for me.”

“Lu— I’m gonna cum,” you cried, your fingers gripping his hair tighter.

“I know baby, do it for me, cum on my cock,” he muttered.

Your body convulsed on top of him, your breath catching in your throat as your orgasm hit you like a truck. He continued thrusting inside you, guiding you through the intensity of the moment.

Without missing a beat, he flipped you so that he was on top of you, his cock still inside you. His soft lips came down onto your tits, swirling his tongue around your nipples as soft whimpers left you. You tried to grip onto him but he pinned your arms above your head, leaving you completely at his mercy.

He thrusted into you deeply, your body jolting upwards as you cried out.

“Oh, fuck, that feels amazing,” you moaned, feeling him continuously brush that sweet spot inside you.

He went faster at your praises, his hips snapping to meet yours. “God, you’re so wet for me, beautiful.”

His large hands gripped your waist, slamming you onto his thick cock. His hand then moved to your lower abdomen, pressing against the outline of his cock moving inside you.

“Feel me baby? Feel how deep I am inside you?” he murmured, pressing on your abdomen and slamming into you.

“S-so deep,” you whimpered.

He reached down to rub your clit, feeling your pussy flutter around him as his pace never faltered.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum baby, I know you are too. I’m gonna cum deep inside you, gonna breed this pretty fucking pussy,” he said.

You wrapped your legs around him, grinding against him. “That’s my good girl, trap me in baby, cum with me while I fuck a baby into you.”

His words sent you over the edge and you moaned his name as you felt his hot load spurt deep inside you. “Take it, take it, take it, beautiful,” he gasped, fucking you as ropes of his cum spurted inside you.

You babbled incoherent words, shivering under him as the intensity of the moment was almost too much.

“Now, when you get pregnant, you’ll always have a piece of me,” he cooed. He stayed buried inside you, relishing in the warmth and wetness of your pussy.

Luigi gently pulled out of you, his hands steady as he helped you shift. His concern for you was immediate, his touch soft as he carefully helped you to your feet. “Let’s take care of you,” he whispered, his voice filled with care. He guided you to the bath, his eyes never leaving you, as if making sure you were okay, every part of you.

He settled behind you in the large, warm tub, the water soothing as he wrapped his arms around you, his chest against your back. You leaned into him, feeling the warmth of his body surround you, as he gently massaged the soap across your skin. His hands were steady and comforting, washing away the physical remnants of the day, but it was more than that—he was taking care of you in every way, his touch full of tenderness and love.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, kissing the back of your neck softly. “I promise, I won’t let them take me away again. We’ll fight this, together.”

You closed your eyes, your heart swelling with emotion as you leaned back against him. His hands gently cupped your face, turning you to look at him. “I really hope so,” you whispered, the fear from earlier still lingering, but his presence grounding you. “I’ll always be by your side, Luigi. No matter what happens.”

He smiled, a soft, knowing smile that reached his eyes. “I know,” he whispered, his voice full of reassurance. “And I’ll never let you go.”

As the warm water surrounded you both, the world outside seemed so far away. All that mattered was the two of you, in that moment, connected in a way that nothing could tear apart.

[caramello-styles]

SAM MY LOVE this is such a good filler chapter I was so immersed!!! love seeing jealous harry and how they handled it, and kyle… omg is it crazy if I say I love his character? I feared for him when he asked her number but nice move comrade!! 🤣 she is surrounded by such good friends from allie mitch sarah niall and now kyle!! jealous harry is a bonus hehe he’s so in love🤭😉

My Friend's Toyota III

Read the rest here: My Friend's Toyota

~8.9k words

Warnings: Jealous Harry, a little pugnacious today. Nothing crazy, I hope. Mostly silly fluff

This is a bit all over the place. (A filler episode, if you will.) The next (and last part) will be more put together I promise.

-

She brought their hands to her cold lips and kissed the back of his hand. Harry was certain he was going to start sweating with how warm the gesture was and he couldn’t bring himself to care about how ridiculous it all was.

When the seasons change / Can I still hold your hand? / When we get rain / can I teach you how to dance? / It’s not even November, yet she’s worried ‘bout December / If I can have her in my arms / she won’t worry ‘bout the winter

“This feels ridiculous,” she said to Allie’s ear and tugged at the skirt of her dress, so it bunched in her hand, and she could press it to the outside of her thigh. She wanted the fabric to stretch lower. The chill in the air slid up her legs and under her skirt and it was almost icy. “It’s freezing out.”

“This is sweatshirt weather at best. Have another drink and we’ll stand by the fire,” she giggled. But without Harry to steal a drink from the fridge she didn’t have much choice of drinking.

“I know it’s lame, Al, but I want to study,” she practically groaned. “I haven’t a clue what’s going on in class. I was sick all week. I’m super behind.”

Allie snorted and shook her head. “So just take Harry’s notes and ask him.”

“I’m the one that helps him.”

“Sweetie. You’re twenty-one. It’s Halloweekend. We’re drinking and getting candy from cute college guys.”

The only cute college guy she wanted to see was Harry. But Harry was working and wouldn’t be out till much later. He was insistent that she stay out long enough so he could see her costume. “It’s not special...” she told him, her cheeks reddening at his request. “It... it won’t be like other people’s costumes on Halloween. Even Allie said it was cuter than it was sexy,” she admitted thinking of the Risky Business trio Allie was going to be part of for the evening. She scuffed her shoe on the tile floor outside her Sociology class when Harry inquired about the weekend. She had skipped last Thursday and Tuesday to recover from the cold she had. The sniffle punctuated how childish she felt. Harry was able to read between the lines; she wasn’t planning on wearing little to the imagination like many chose to do so. Allie assured her it was still sexy—in it’s own way—but not too sweet; she wouldn’t look out of place.

But she knew the truth. It would look cute and wholesome on her. That was how the guy described her last Halloween while she was working at a bar down south. Down there she could dress with little layering. She didn’t, but she specifically remembered serving a guy that was drunk and flirty. “I could take you home to Mom in that.”

It was her least favorite pickup line, but she knew it was true. It probably didn’t help that it was an angel costume. But it had always been that way. People like Allie dressed adorably and sexily. Allie, and others more confident than she was, were asked to go home for the night with someone they just met. She was asked to babysit or meet a parent. “I bet you’ll look...” he chuckled and pinched his lip between his thumb and finger as he scanned her up and down. He shook his head and smiled at her as her cheeks flamed at his scan. Despite the fact they had kissed and slept in the same bed (and nothing more) for several nights in the last couple weeks, Harry looking at her like she was... beautiful made her feel completely flushed and overwhelmed. It was insane that someone as popular, someone as handsome, someone so nice on top of everything else, liked her. “I can’t wait t’see it,” he promised. “Should I dress t’match you?”

Her heart skipped a beat. “Really?”

“Well, yeah,” he smiled. “Want everyone t’know you’re all mine.”

She had to bite the inside of her lip to keep herself from smiling large enough to break her cheeks wide open. “I’ll send you the link,” she offered.

Now she had to wait another two hours before Harry was off work and on his way. Allie was already on drink number three and there were still no s’mores supplies by the fire. Even on Halloweekend. It was a real shame. Next time she was going to bring her own.

“But it’s cold,” she whined to Allie.

“Sweetie, it’s not even November. You’re going to need so many layers by the time we get to December.”

No wonder she was sick all week. The chill in the air was killing her. Harry was so kind and while he wanted to dote on her way more than he got to, she was insistent. The kind of insistent he didn’t want to argue with just yet—maybe down the line when they had dated for longer than two weeks. He brought her soup from work and as much as Allie tried to convince her to let Harry stay and wait on her, she was sure she didn’t need Harry getting sick on her behalf. Allie gave Harry a sad smile and a look in her eye that said I tried. For which he was grateful to have her best friend on his side.

*

Allie was the kind of person to talk to anyone that approached her. Like long lost friends. With her long-tanned legs on display, that meant there were a lot more people to chat with her. The remaining two of her trio came and went to take pictures and make appearances. She was able to chat with most anyone as well, but her introverted self, preferred a one-on-one kind of chat. It also helped when she wasn’t so cold.

The only person she spoke to between those moments of chatting with Allie’s friends, was the freshman pledge standing by the fire, aptly dressed as a firefighter—no shirt of course.

“You come here with her frequently,” he noted when Allie scampered off to dance to the unofficial Risky Business theme song inside with her friends. She enjoyed the warmth because she swore her dress was getting shorter by the second for her southern blood.

“Yeah, she’s my best friend,” she cleared her throat. “Are you stuck on fire duty all year?”

He snorted through his sarcastic little laugh but held a kind smile. He looked so young. She thought being twenty-one was young and somehow this eighteen-year-old guy may as well have been thirteen. “No, just the semester,” he sighed. “Thankfully,” he shook his head. “When you’re not here, you should see some of the things I see.”

She laughed softly. “I can imagine.”

“Do you know anyone besides Allie?”

“No,” she shook her head. “Well, Niall... adjacently,” she amended and shrugged. “He’s friends with my...” she cleared her throat again awkwardly. Harry technically wasn’t her boyfriend. But she didn’t know what to say, suddenly. “With... my friend.”

The guy smiled to himself picking up some empty cups around the fire and tossed them into a nearby bin. She helped as well, bending gracefully so as not to show off her butt. Her knees were stiff with cold, and it felt like her skin was going to break open. “Oh, you mean Harry,” he chuckled. “I was wondering about that status. Everyone is really,” he smirked knowingly. “You’re different than his usual kind of friend,” he didn’t mean anything by it. Just making conversation. But his comment made her heart feel like it weighed about six hundred pounds and sank directly to her feet. She shouldn’t have given it a second thought. Obviously, he wasn’t around long enough to know Harry’s motives or type or anything. Anything he said was basically a rumor. Clearly, her silence was noteworthy. “Hey, I didn’t mean to offend you,” his voice was remorseful and sweet. Especially for an eighteen-year-old. “You just hear a lot by the fire,” he shrugged. “The guy is crazy about you,” he reminded her. “I know I’m just a freshman pledge, but I see a lot. I hear a lot.”

“What was your name again?” She asked. Simultaneously, she wanted the conversation to stop but also wanted to know who he was later on when she had time to ask Allie and her friends. Or even Niall.

He stuck his hand out. “Kyle,” he offered while she shook his hand firmly.

“Kyle,” she repeated. “Well, thank you for keeping me company. Next time, I think we should have s’mores.”

He laughed and rolled his eyes. “My pleasure. You’re fun to talk to,” he smiled. “If Harry didn’t look like he was ready to kill me I would continue the conversation, but,” he pointed behind her and he gave her a wave. “I’ll bring s’mores next time. See ya around,” he meandered back to his station but shifted to the other side of the fire, avoiding Harry’s vision.

She turned to see Harry, pants with the 1960’s themed flower-pants decorating his legs, a brown suede tasseled vest—no shirt, circle glasses with colored lenses, and a chunky peace necklace hung around his neck. The pendant touched just above his navel. How he wasn’t freezing was beyond her. Even in her own dress, long sleeves, with the matching pattern of Harry’s pants, she was nearly shivering because of her bare legs. All those years her mom forced her to wear a jacket while trick or treating—when it was downright warm—were wasted. She wished for a jacket now.

“Hey,” she smiled sweetly.

“Hey, kitten,” he cooed, the irritation in his eyes still just behind the surface. “Y’look beautiful. Y’should wear a flower crown all the time,” he put a hand on her side and kissed her forehead in greeting. Immediately the stares ensued.

“How was work?” She asked.

“Fine, long. Lots of tips tonight,” he grinned, a spark of excitement replacing the irritation immediately. “Can take y’to the fancy restaurant now.”

His hand didn’t move from her side. It warmed her freezing cold body more than the fire did. “We don’t have to do that, Harry. You can save your money. But it does sound nice,” she smiled sweetly.

Harry stepped closer to her. Somehow. She was a good half a foot shorter, even with the chunky heels on that came with the costume. But he still had to bend his neck forward a bit to reach her ear. His hands were on her waist, cupping her hips and she wanted nothing more than to leave this place and snuggle up to him in bed. “I think y’look so sexy,” he whispered.

She blushed, giggled, and shook her head. “I look like I’m about to take the kids I’m babysitting out trick or treating.”

His nose bumped her temple. “No way, kitten. Too sexy t’have a gaggle of kids t’watch on Halloween,” he kissed her head again.

She rested her hands on his bare chest. He was warm. Not cold at all. “Aren’t you cold?” She asked. He chuckled, pulling from her and then wrapping an arm snuggly around her waist. Honestly, pressed to his unclothed skin was the first time in hours she hadn’t felt so cold.

“No, love,” he shook his head. “Have you been freezing?”

“Yes, extremely,” she smiled knowingly. “It’s parka weather.”

He laughed heading toward the house. “It’s barely sweatshirt weather.”

“That’s what Allie said.”

“Where is Miss Allie?”

“Umm...dancing I think,” she sighed. “I envy her confidence.”

Harry pressed his lips to the top of her head, kissed her temple, and smiled against her hair. “Think you’re perfect,” he murmured. No “just as you are” or “like this” was uttered afterwards. It seemed he really meant it.

*

“Hey!” She naturally perked up. It was between classes—her class at noon was cancelled and she didn’t need to be across campus for another hour. Normally, she scarfed down a protein bar and swung into the coffee shop within one of the dining halls to get another caffeinated beverage to hold her over in the afternoon. It was nice to sit and work on her assignments for a bit. She was lucky to get notes from all her classes—one of her peers in each of them was willing to help her out. She emailed her professors as well explaining how she felt like lukewarm death, and she would stay on top of things and be back on track before they knew it. So really, it was nice to have an extra break between her classes to help her get caught up a little more.

But the voice cut through the din of the dining hall and she looked up to see Kyle.

“Oh, hey, Kyle,” she smiled. She cleared a space at the table and gestured for him to sit.

“I never see you at this time,” he noted. She nodded, explained how her class was cancelled and she was getting caught up since she was sick last week. “How was the rest of your Halloweekend?”

It was lovely. Harry bought her a boatload of candy—so many mini bags of Twix bars and they watched three scary movies that had her snuggled close to him for most of the weekend. Harry made special drinks that looked like green, orange, and purple potions. It was adorable, festive, and just really enjoyable. “It was good,” she grinned, thinking about it fondly. “How was yours? Stuck by the fire?”

He laughed dropping his bag beside the table. “Yeah, basically.”

“Do you want to go get food or something? I’ll be here for a while,” she offered.

“Yeah, thanks, that would be great actually. I’ll be right back.”

While he was gone, she checked her phone to see how Harry was doing in class. This class he usually had to pay the most focused attention to, or he would miss something. My class got out early. I’m in the dining hall if you want to swing by when you’re done. If you can’t it’s okay.

I’d leave right now if I could, kitten 😘

Pay attention 😘

Kyle reappeared with a burger and fries. He also had a bag of carrot sticks which she thought was pretty adorable. He pulled his water bottle from his bag and set it out as well. “Whoa, is that a real class?” He asked.

She laughed. “It’s for one of my math classes.”

“That’s hieroglyphics, actually.”

She shook her head, still smiling. “Not a math fan?”

“I’m in pre-calculus and only because I took the placement test online and had someone help me get to it. I didn’t want to take the lower-level class for no credit and still have to pay for it,” he explained. She nodded understandingly.

“Well, I kind of like math, so if you need help, we could find a time to meet.”

His jaw dropped. “Shut up,” he practically gasped. “You’re kidding.”

“Of course,” she was too sweet. Allie said it was going to kill her one day. But Kyle was nice. “The hard part will be making our schedules match up.”

He sighed with relief stuffing three French fries in his mouth. “Wow, thanks, that’s so nice of you,” he murmured around the bite of his burger next. “I’m glad I sat with you instead of my friends today.”

“Oh?” She smirked.

“Yeah,” he glanced across the room to a booth filled with four boys who were all ogling the pair of them. “They all think I’m crazy for talking to a pretty upperclassman,” he admitted. “I told them I knew you from fire duty, but they didn’t believe me.” Her cheeks definitely warmed at the compliment, and she felt herself under the scrutiny of the whole group. “M’sorry,” he said quickly. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”

Kyle was unlike any eighteen-year-old guy she had ever met in her whole life. The guys in her high school wouldn’t have been able to compete. “Do you have a sister?” She asked.

He nodded. “She goes to a different school, but she’s a senior,” that seemed to explain it. His sister was a year older than her.  “Why?”

“Your compliments are very kind, and I was just thinking that most guys your age—”

He smiled. “Oh... yeah. The guys all think I’m a huge ladies’ man or something,” he told her with an eye roll. He was brushing it off. But she could see it. In a lot of ways, he reminded her of Harry. “My sister just taught me really well how to talk and treat women.”

“That’s really nice,” she smiled. “Are you seeing someone?”

“No, my older brother is a legacy in this frat, so it’s taken up most of my semester—and before, honestly. I used to come to parties with him when I was still in high school because he wanted to show me the ropes. That’s how I know Harry... kind of, just from observing him and being around the frat life. Where is he, by the way?”

“Class, he should be getting out soon.”

He blanched almost immediately. “Oh, I better go then, I don’t want him—”

“What?” She interrupted with a scoff of laughter in her voice. “You don’t have to go. We’re friends,” she rolled her eyes.

“Um... I think Harry is a bit of the jealous type when it comes to you,” he explained. “I heard he punched someone at one of the parties you didn’t go to because they were talking about you. Plus, the guy in your sociology class wouldn’t keep his mouth shut and Niall had to tell him to shut it, or Harry would shut it for him.”

For a moment, she forgot how to breathe—or exist. She blinked; her eyes closed for a long moment before she looked at him curiously. “I’m sorry, what?” She tilted her head. She had heard rumors of course. The ones of inadequacy, difference of his previous relationships, just complete surprise in Harry being with her in general.

To hear that Harry was jealous—to the point of violence? How did she miss that? “He punched someone?”

“To be honest, I don’t know. I wasn’t in the room. But I know he definitely yelled,” Kyle shrugged taking another bite of his burger. Her jaw dropped.

The rumors didn’t bother her—not for why they should have bothered her. The feeling of inadequacy definitely hurt, but that was something she kind of worked out with Harry on her own. Violent outbursts were too much for her. Hopefully that was nothing more than a rumor. “Hey kitten,” she was lost in thought, didn’t even notice Harry approached. Looking up, she saw him staring at Kyle, seated across from her.

She shook her head to get her brain functioning again. “Oh,” she smiled. “Hi, you’re out early,” she stood up and pecked his cheek. He seemed stiff. Kyle paled while Harry continued staring and she felt so uneasy about seeing jealous Harry firsthand. Poor Kyle began cleaning up his stuff as quickly as he could. She put a hand on his arm to still him and he nearly ripped his arm away from her. Poor thing. “Do you know Kyle?” She asked as if he hadn’t almost taken his whole arm off at her touch. But she noted the way Harry shifted. “He’s usually on fire duty,” she explained sitting back in her seat. “I chatted with him on Halloweekend.”

Harry’s gaze was stiff, cold, and nothing like how he looked at her at all. “Kyle,” he repeated.

“Kyle was telling me he’s struggling with math,” she looked at Harry curiously, almost suspiciously. “You can vouch for me, right? I’m a pretty good tutor,” she giggled, and Harry loosened ever so slightly.

“Yeah, she’s a genius, I think,” Harry slid into the booth seat beside her. He kissed her forehead. “M’jus’ gonna grab a quick snack,” he explained and left his bag beside her.

“What are you doing?” She asked as Kyle continued to clean up his stuff.

The color in Kyle’s face returned to normal and he sighed with relief when Harry left. “He’s gonna kill me.”

“Kyle,” she snorted. “We’re friends. He’ll get over it.”

“My friends are tweaking out over there.”

She glanced at them briefly to see them all snickering and smacking each other at their friend’s discomfort. “I see that,” she rolled her eyes. “He’s just a little protective,” she offered.

“I don’t blame him; you’re very pretty and nice,” he said with a shrug. “I’ve been at a lot of these parties and no one ever gives me the time of day," he murmured right before Harry reappeared.

“Kyle, y’brother was in Niall’s frat,” Harry said placing his food in front of him—a pre-made sandwich and a bottle of apple juice—which she thought was the cutest thing in the world to see a twenty-one-year-old guy who was hotter than the sun drinking a bottle of apple juice with his sandwich. “What was his name?”

Kyle gulped almost audibly; he was so uncomfortable it was palpable in the air. “Uh... Jesse,” he answered eventually. “He graduated last year. But I went to parties a lot. Showed the ropes kind of thing.”

“Ah,” Harry nodded. “Well, thanks for keeping m’girlfriend company. Don’t know if she told you, she’s from the south. So s’pretty cold without the fire,” he placed a hand beneath the table on her thigh. It made her swoon internally.

Girlfriend.

She could feel her whole face soften and the word. Her heart rate began to fly. She glanced at Harry from the corner of her eye to see if he was having a meltdown internally like she was. He wasn’t. It was as if this was just another ordinary moment of her life, and her heart wasn’t screaming.

Kyle must have heard the designation as well because his smile brightened, and she swore his eye twinkled in acknowledgment. “I didn’t know that. Makes a lot of sense,” he seemed a little more at ease now that Harry had turned off the protective tone. But worry was still just below the surface of his eyes. “Uh... would it be cool to get your number to help with the whole tutoring stuff?” He asked looking at his own phone. She wished she could look at Harry’s face when the poor thing asked. Kyle may as well have been asking Harry for it like some kind of dowry.

“Of course,” she said quickly and pulled her phone up to a new contact and handed it to him. She put her hand on Harry’s, still on her leg. She squeezed it while Kyle cleared his throat and passed it back to her.

“Thank you, my... my mom will appreciate the help,” he admitted, shyly.

“Happy to help,” she promised with a smile. “Thanks for keeping me company again.”

His face paled again, Harry’s grip on her thigh tightened at the same time. “I gotta go,” he gestured to his friends still staring at the three of them. “Thanks for the help, see you around.”

As soon as he was gone, she turned more directly to Harry, getting a good view of his profile. He sipped his apple juice. “Did you punch a guy?” She asked. He rolled his eyes and scoffed.

“Of course not.”

“Well, I thought that too, but you almost melted poor Kyle with your laser vision there,” she pressed a hand to the side of his face. Harry smirked under her touch. His cheeks turned the slightest shade of pink.

“M’jus...” he sighed. “Y’have t’understand, kitten. I’ve never felt this way ‘bout someone before. M’not usually the jealous type. Y’can ask Mitch and Sarah. M’not one t’play dick goalie; if someone wanted t’be in a relationship with someone else, m’not gonna make myself sick with worry,” he shrugged. “But you?” He shook his head. “S’like there’s this bug in m’head. The whole picnic was nice, but y’deserve more. M’ready t’do anything t’keep you to myself. T’give you all y’want and more.”

“And you think poor, baby freshman Kyle is going to give me more?” She asked sarcasm dripping in her voice. But it was still kind how she said it. She could hear the worry in Harry’s voice. It was unnecessary, but nonetheless sweet. She couldn’t believe he liked her so much.

“He already has a crush on you,” he grumbled and bit into his sandwich.

“He does not,” but the heat rising to her cheeks didn’t help her case.

“Of course, he does, love,” Harry rolled his eyes. “A hot, upperclassman talking t’a freshman? I’d’ve written our names in a notebook.”

“He’s harmless,” she promised.

“He is, but s’jus’ furthering m’point,” he smiled. “M’literally dating you and ‘ve got a huge crush on you. You’re nice, funny, and beautiful. S’like y’were made in a lab.”

“You forgot I’m good at math,” she teased.

“Don’t remind me. Don’t know why you’re slumming it with me.”

She smiled, shaking her head. “I didn’t know we were boyfriend and girlfriend,” it sounded so cheesy saying it out loud. She hoped he wouldn’t think she was ridiculous but it really ached in her chest.

“Kitten, we have been since y’agreed t’sit with me in class,” he smirked. “Y’should’ve asked,” he kissed the top of her head.

She laughed. “That long?”

“Mhmm...” he hummed and draped his arm around her and pulled her closer. “Did y’think this was just a little fling or something?”

“No,” she cleared her throat. “Or, I hoped not. But...” she shrugged. “I know I’m not like the other girls you’ve dated. And I know I’m kind of lame—”

“Please don’t talk about my lovely girlfriend like that,” he winked cutely. She rolled her eyes.

“I would be extremely jealous if I saw a girl flirting with you,” she told him.

His flirty smile disappeared, a frown replacing his entire face. “I would never make y’jealous intentionally. I haven’t noticed anyone since I met you, kitten,” he promised. “I really don’t want y’to worry ‘bout me. I know y’hear rumors and I can imagine they bug you, but s’all they are. If there’s ever something y’want t’know, y’can ask. I won’t... blame y’for asking.”

“I trust you,” her voice was so firm, she hoped he knew that. This conversation was almost too serious for a dining hall, but she was kind of glad to be talking about all of it. “Really, truly. Allie is gonna take a little longer to believe you, but even she said you act differently around me.”

“S’good to know,” he smirked. “I’ll work on it. M’glad y’trust me.”

She smiled. “You trust me, right?”

“I do, I really do, kitten. Believe me, s’all the guys that are right to flirt with you that make me crazy. They see someone so beautiful and kind,” he shook his head. “M’no better than them, honestly.”

For a moment, she just looked at him. It was hard to believe he was so crazy about her. After all he had told her, and all the issues she had within her mind, making her feel a little insane at times, Harry didn’t care. He assuaged every worry. Every minor little problem or fear she had, he plucked it right out and assured her that everything was lovely.

She leaned upward and pecked his cheek again. “No punching someone,” she said simply. “I have to get to class, are you going to stay here?” She asked.

“Leave you t’walk with the wolves?” He asked, packaging his sandwich up and putting his juice in his bag. “Absolutely, not,” he rolled his eyes. She giggled and she couldn’t help but notice how Harry’s smile brightened as she did.

*

Prior to university, Harry’s teachers told him and his classmates how they would have so much free time in college. Which was true in a way; Harry had a lot of time to join a club sport, hold down a job, go to the gym, enjoy himself as much as he wanted. However, all those extra curriculars and obligations he gave himself created a packed schedule. The fear of insurmountable debt made him pick up shifts even when he didn’t want to.

It was a miracle he found a girlfriend as busy as he was. If she had more free time, Harry worried she would find someone who had more time for him. But between working, classes, studying, and going for runs with Allie (although she assured Harry that it was mostly walking for the better part of ninety minutes and followed by a half hour of stretching), they mainly saw each other at bedtime.

“I think we’re an old married couple,” Harry murmured into her hair. He loved the feel of her body close to his. Having her in his arms was where he wanted her most.

“We haven’t fought about hair in the shower drain yet,” she reminded him.

“S’because all of it’s in m’mouth right now,” he spluttered, pretending to spit her hair out of his mouth. She twisted around, facing him, he smiled at her. “M’jus’ kidding. I would eat your hair,” he joked.

“You’re insane.”

“’Bout you.”

“Somewhere in the future is a true crime podcast about you murdering me,” she had this habit of placing her hand on his face and skimming her thumb across his cheek. It was soothing, if he wasn’t careful, he would fall asleep before finishing their chat. She threw her voice to do a monologued intro. “He was so handsome. No one suspected that he had a hair fetish that would devolve into full-blown cannibalism.”

He laughed and brought his mouth close to hers. “I wouldn’t eat you, kitten. M’not a psychopath,” he rolled his eyes. “I would probably just keep your body preserved and play house with it.”

She nodded. “Well, that’s a relief.”

He chuckled, rolled his eyes again. “Go to sleep.”

“M’worried you’ll kill me when I’ve let my guard down,” she yawned. “S’always the husband. After twenty-five years of marriage,” she reminded him.

“S’a risk we all take, I think.”

“Can you at least text Allie that she can have my clothes?”

“First on m’to do list after I clean up the blood.”

“I don’t think we should watch scary movies before bed anymore.”

“Yes, dear.”

She giggled. For a few moments they just gazed at one another. Her eyes got droopier, her breath slower. “Good night, Harry,” she whispered.

“Good night, kitten,” he answered just as softly. His tongue was twitching to say three more words. Words that, realistically, he wanted to say the moment he met her. His heart ached to say them as much as his tongue. Part of him wondered if she would say it back. Was it too early? She hadn’t been in love before. He needed it to be special when he said it. Was he prepared if she didn’t say it back?

Her face nuzzled into his collarbone; a sigh escaped her, completely content. He wondered if she was already asleep. Maybe he would just whisper it to her sleeping form for practice. Was he being ridiculous? Was it too soon? No, he never felt like this when he dated before her. “Thanks for being my boyfriend,” her voice was so gentle, so sweet. “I like it a lot.”

He kissed her forehead, his heart cracking under the pressure of how adorable she was. “Pleasure’s all mine, love,” despite how badly he wanted to say it, he wanted it to be more special for her. She deserved that.

*

Harry called his mum as often as he could to check in. It was usually twice a week and texts every day. He was sitting outside the restaurant in the cold, trying to ease his mind off the packed schedule he had for the next couple weeks. It was hard to believe it was mid-November. Finals and their holiday break would be right around the corner. “Hi honey-bunny,” his mum said into the phone. “You on break?” She asked.

“Yeah, hi Mum; how are you?”

“Missing my baby,” she cooed.

He chuckled. “M’jus’ calling ’cause I have a free minute.”

“Thank you,” she said gratefully. “How’s our leading lady?” She asked.

Harry smiled to himself, despite being alone, his cheeks surely turned pink. Shortly after his breakfast with Mitch, he called his mum to tell her that he met her; the girl he was certain he was going to marry her. “She’s good,” he nearly sighed dreamily. “Do y’want to meet her?” He asked.

“Of course I do!” She nearly cheered. “M’sure she’s lovely.”

“Y’know, her family’s down south. M’not sure what her plans are for the holiday break,” he shrugged. “If she’s stuck here because of flights, could I invite her home?”

“Oh of course! I’ll have to get her a stocking.”

“Er...don’t scare her Mum,” he laughed lightly. “I don’t know if she can yet.”

“Well, you’re certain you’re going to marry her, I better get one anyway.”

His mum was all on board for having a daughter-in-law. One that was sweet and perfect for her little baby boy. Gemma was excited to have someone to poke fun with and truly, she’d always wanted a sister as well. Harry felt his stomach flip at the thought. While his mum was a strong supporter and kind about who Harry fell in love with, Gemma was the slightest bit more skeptical. When he called her earlier in the semester about the pretty girl, Gemma was happy for him. “Harry, you’re very young still. I’m young. Are you sure you want to settle for the first girl you think is the one?”

“S’not settling, Gem. You haven’t met her,” he assured her. “S’not even close to settling,” he promised. “I know m’young...but...’ve wanted t’meet her for a really long time,” he told her. Gemma knew that. Her younger brother, the sweet six-foot giant, had been graced with a heart bigger than anyone she knew. He was empathetic, adoring, and always kind. As much as he hated bugs and spiders, he always wanted them to be saved when they were younger and placed neatly outside so as not to upset their little insect families. Harry dreamed about getting married the first time he had a crush on a pretty girl in his grade school classes. His heart was broken on Valentine’s Day when she didn’t send him a Valentine, but he had pored over his glittery heart craft that he had slipped into her school mailbox. The heartache only lasted a little while—he was only seven at the time—but he wanted love. It was obvious. Gemma and her Mum had cultivated his love of Rom-Coms and they were his first line of advice when he needed help with gifts for the girl he was seeing.

Gemma knew that Harry dated a bit, desperately searching for the lady that he thought would appear long before he went to university. So as much as Gemma tried to quell his excitement over the object of all his affections and remind him how young he was to find the love of his life, Gemma knew that she was different. The way she had captured her brother’s heart so entirely was a beautiful sign.

“Gemma will want to meet her too,” Mum brought him back to the present. His break was waning, and he would need to get back inside momentarily. “I’m really happy you’re happy, Harry.”

His heart felt so whole, it nearly hurt. “Me too, Mum.”

“Have a good rest of your day, honey bunny. Love you.”

“Love you too, Mum, talk to you soon.”

*

When they walked to class, it was freezing. Even for Harry. Which meant it was probably insufferable for her. Her hands were stuffed in her coat pockets, Harry desperately wanted to hold her hand but couldn’t bring himself to steal it from the warmth inside her jacket. “Y’really wanted t’come up here away from the warmth?” he murmured his question.

The leaves were no longer the warm hues of a sunset colors. They wilted into chestnut, sepia colors and piled along fences outlining the campus. The ground was hard beneath her feet, and she wondered if her coat was going to be thick enough to make it through the winter. She smiled. Her cheeks were wind-blown pink, and her nose was a little runny, but Harry thought she had never looked more beautiful. “Yes, wouldn’t have met you otherwise,” she said immediately. He chuckled, his cheeks turning their own shade of pink.

“Wait till y’see the snow,” he reminded her.

“I’m so excited for snow,” she sounded excited. God, he wanted to hold her hand so badly. She pulled a gloved hand out of her pocket at the very moment and pulled a strand of hair away from her lips. “I need hot chocolate,” she grabbed Harry’s hand between them and squeezed it, making him ache with more adoration for her. “Do you work today?”

He did, but it was a short shift. “Jus’ till nine.”

“So hot chocolate at your place?”

He wondered if she could see the somersaults his heart was doing in his eyes. “Please,” he squeezed her hand back. “I’d love that, kitten.”

She brought their hands to her cold lips and kissed the back of his hand. Harry was certain he was going to start sweating with how warm the gesture was and he couldn’t bring himself to care about how ridiculous it all was.

*

Fortunately, Saturday was much warmer than their hot chocolate date. It was still cool, but around the fire, it wasn’t nearly as frigid or achy. Harry once more showed up after his shift. Glancing through the gossip column that was his text messages.

Your girlfriend is awfully cozy with the Fire Marshall.

He knew that it was just to get a rise out of him. He didn’t even have the number saved. But it didn’t mean it didn’t work. After nearly sprinting most of the way from his parking spot to Niall’s house, he had to slow to a walk and take a few laps around the block to ease the anxiety in his mind. Kyle was just her friend. She was kind. She was lovely. Harry knew there was nothing he needed to worry about with her. It wasn’t her.

It was just that she was drop dead gorgeous and Kyle had a massive crush on her. His eye twitched and he rubbed at it as he meandered into the yard. The thought of them having a study session also didn’t help his anxious mind. This was a horrible feeling. He wouldn’t wish it on his worst enemy.

Fortunately, he saw Allie chatting with a group of her friends in the front yard. Some drinking game was definitely happening—it involved cornhole, which he felt of all the games they could have played, it was probably the least dangerous. He gave her a wave. “Hi Harry! She’s out back by the fire!” She shouted. That seemed like Five-Drink-Allie if he had to bet. Poor thing was going to have a killer headache in the morning.

He chuckled, saluted her, and headed around the side of the house. He saw the bonfire and the pair standing by it. They were close together and his heart skipped a beat feeling anxious and hot as he watched while approaching. “S’mores?” He asked.

“Hi, Harry,” she cooed sweetly standing on her toes to kiss his cheek. Almost immediately, the fiery envy in his heart disappeared and was replaced with adoration once more.

“Hi, kitten,” he wrapped his arm around her waist.

“Kyle provided s’mores,” she said knowingly. “Now it’s a real party,” she explained holding the s’mores stick out toward the flame. “Do you like good marshmallows or bad marshmallows?” She asked.

Harry chuckled. “Sounds a bit loaded...What’s a good marshmallow?”

“Not charred on the outside,” Kyle rolled his eyes. A pang of frustration went through Harry over the idea that they had an inside joke he was not privy to. “She’s very serious about this.”

“Golden brown is best,” she explained.

“Sorry kitten, m’a charred s’more kinda guy,” Harry smiled.

She scoffed. “Horrible. Both of you. Wasting marshmallows,” she grumbled.

“M’gonna grab a drink. You’ll be here?” He asked.

“Yeah of course, I think Niall was looking for you,” she added reaching for the chocolate and graham crackers they had placed on a jacket on the ground. It must have been Kyle’s because there was no way she would part with a jacket if she were wearing it, no matter how warm it was by the fire; he was sure her icicle self couldn’t do it. “I’ll make you a gross s’more for when you come back; take your time,” she smiled. Harry winked at her, nodded to Kyle, and headed inside.

He found Niall hovering near the makeshift bar. Grateful he could just ask his friend to sneak him a can directly from the fridge without having to distract the freshman bartender for the tenth time in the semester. “Harry!” He cheered. Niall wasn’t drunk; it took a lot for someone so Irish to get drunk at all. But he was friendly. Harry was certain he would greet him the same way, first thing in the morning. “Mitch and Sarah are here,” he pointed toward a group of people over by the pong table. It looked like a game of quarters this week, but he couldn’t be certain. Niall got closer to him and murmured in his ear while he asked the freshman bartender for something to drink as well. “Is Kyle bugging your lady?” He asked. Niall looked at him knowingly, reading between the lines, Harry knew it wasn’t about her, it was entirely about himself.

“No,” he shook his head. “They’re friends.”

“I can tell him to cool it,” he offered.

Harry nodded. “S’fine,” he promised coolly grateful it was dark, so Niall probably missed the way his eye twitched. Part of him wanted to go steal her away and just take her home. Niall nodded.

“Alright, just checking. He’s a good kid,” he promised.

“Seems it,” Harry agreed. “Game tomorrow?” He asked. Niall nodded, excitedly.

“Yessir,” he saluted and slugged back more of his drink. Harry chuckled circling over to Mitch and Sarah. Sarah was clinging to Mitch. A good sign that she had more than her standard two drinks and was getting a little tipsier than normal.

“I got a great grade on my exam,” she giggled.

Mitch smirked and rolled his eyes. “I see,” Harry laughed. “Celebrating, are we?”

She nodded and held her cup out for Harry to clink with his own plasticky sound. “Is my new best friend coming over tonight for a sleepover? I want those scones she made last week!” Sarah nearly had hearts in her eyes at the thought. Mitch chuckled, kissed the side of her head, while wrapping an arm around her tightly.

“M’sure she can,” Harry chuckled. Allie happened into the room at that point and Harry waved her over.

“Hi!” She chirped and gave Sarah a hug.

“Do you two have plans tomorrow?” Harry asked. “Sarah wants scones.”

“Oh, so do I,” Allie bounced on her toes excitedly.

“You should sleepover too!” Sarah cheered excitedly. “We can put the boys in one room,” she suggested. Mitch snorted and rolled his eyes. He sipped his drink and looked Harry knowingly.

It sounded adorable, honestly. Bringing two facets of his life so close together. But part of him dreaded not spending the night snuggled up to the pretty girl.

“But no, we don’t have plans—I’m not sure if she’s working though...where is—? Oh no,” Allie seemed to sober immediately dropping her cup, spilling it on Mitch and Sarah’s feet before she ran out the back door. Without looking, Harry dropped his cup and the seltzer he had for her and followed suit. He sensed Mitch and Sarah on his heels.

About a foot from the fire, she was standing between Kyle and another guy. Harry didn’t know his name. The s’mores were abandoned, and Kyle had a murderous look in his eye. “Kyle, it’s fine,” she promised as he approached.

“No, it’s not,” he snapped. “Get out of the way,” he ground out to her but she was pressed up against him, her entire back protectively pressed in front of him.

“What are you going to do Freshmeat? Big brother’s not here to get you out of this one,” the other guy taunted shoving Kyle despite the fact she was between them. She smacked his hand.

“Stop it,” she scowled at him. Honestly, Harry thought it would have been cute had he not been so furious.

“Hey!” Allie shouted at the same time Harry shoved the other guy away almost immediately.

“Harry!” She shouted pushing Kyle back another step.

“Back off,” Harry snarled.

“Oh, so you’re okay sharing her with a freshman, but not—”

“I wouldn’t finish that sentence,” Sarah warned.

She was holding Kyle’s arm trying to keep him calm. “Harry, let’s just go,” she whispered nervously. “Please,” she added, her voice catching.

“What did you say to her?” Harry growled, eyeing him. It was obvious he had too much to drink.

“Harry,” Allie warned coming to her side. “It’s okay, let’s just go.”

“You better take care of your girl, Styles. Or someone will do it for you,” he warned. Harry felt so hot with rage it was hotter than the fire.

“Harry,” Mitch said lowly. “Let’s just go,” he repeated.

“I’m getting Niall,” Allie sped back for the house.

Harry set his jaw, glaring at him, and turned his attention briefly to her and Kyle. “Are you alright?” He asked, his voice tight.

She nodded. “Very okay. I just want to go,” she whispered.

Harry backed up toward Kyle and her. He grabbed her hand and tugged her with him as quickly as he could. “Teasing slut,” he muttered lowly.

But not low enough.

Harry smiled, shook his head, and reeled around. “Wanna repeat that?” He asked.

“Harry,” her voice was close to tears, begging. “Harry, please.”

“Hey!” Niall shouted hurrying out the house in front of Allie.

“I said, she’s a ‘teasing slut.’ You’re just lucky you got to her first—”

“HEY!” Niall repeated but Kyle was the one that lunged at the same time.

“Kyle!” She shouted.

Harry yanked the poor kid away and shoved him back toward Mitch and Sarah. “Harry!” She begged again, apparently unafraid to get close to the action. Niall yanked her back just as fast as Harry pulled Kyle away and Harry started to lunge. With Allie and Sarah holding Kyle back, Mitch grabbed Harry before he could throw a single punch. The drunk idiot cackled at the drama and shook his head.

“Let’s go,” Mitch ordered fiercely. She sighed with relief grabbing his arm and pulling him close to her. Niall shoved the other guy back toward the house.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

He almost felt as angry as he was moments ago. “S’not your fault, love,” Niall assured her with a smile. “Harry, y’good?” He asked. Harry nodded stiffly looking at the ground. “Kyle,” Niall looked at the younger one trapped between Sarah and Allie. “You good?”

He nodded once. “M’fine,” he muttered, shaking his head. “Sorry. He was so pushy. I just thought he was trying to drug her or something,” he promised.

Harry tensed up so hard he thought he would tear a muscle just standing there. She shivered. “Thank you, Kyle. But you didn’t need to do all that,” her voice was soft but almost warning—like a mum to her child. “I wasn’t going to drink anything he offered me,” she promised. “You could have gotten really hurt,” she reminded him.

Harry envied her coolness right now. He was fuming and while she was speaking as gently as she could to Kyle, her hand was roaming his arm just as gently. “Worth it,” he promised. They needed to leave quickly, or Harry was going to let all his jealous emotions surge through him.

“I’m ordering an Uber back,” Sarah said. “S’too cold and you’re too hotheaded to walk—you’ll end up sprinting,” she said to Harry. “How many?” She asked. It was determined all five of them would be leaving.

“You’ll watch him?” She asked Niall quietly and gestured toward Kyle who was picking up the trash around the fire.

“Always,” he winked. “Sorry ‘bout the drama, love.”

“Comes with the territory, I think,” she squeezed Harry’s hand.

“You’ll watch him?” Niall asked.

She smiled. “Always.”

*

Allie did a really good job realizing she was going to throw up the moment she got into Casa Mitch and Harry. “Sarah, can you get some meds and a soda?” She asked.

“You’re the bestest friend there ever was,” Allie moaned laying on the floor beside the toilet. Sarah smirked and handed over the supplies and doubled back for a pillow and a blanket.

“Scones in the morning?” Sarah asked.

“Sounds great,” she smiled sweetly. It was obvious Harry was still on edge. He headed into his bedroom and paced while she finished up with Sarah and Allie.

“You good there, Al?” She asked.

She held up a thumb that sort of leaned a little more than halfway down than it did up. Smirking, she waved to Mitch and Sarah gave her arm a squeeze. “Good night, Harry,” Sarah called gently.

“Shout if you need something, Allie,” she pushed her friend’s hair back and left her to sleep on the cold tile. She quietly closed Harry’s bedroom door and waited while Harry continued pacing.

“What did he say?” He snapped.

“Harry, it’s not—”

“Kitten, m’begging,” he looked at her so hurt, so terribly sad, she nearly caved.

“It was nothing, Harry. It’ll do no good to talk it out. You’ll just get mad—”

“M’jus’ gonna ask Kyle,” Harry was still fuming as he paced.

“Harry,” she repeated. “Please. I’m telling you; it was nothing. Please believe me.”

Harry pressed his head against the window. The lights illuminating the paths to the different buildings were soft and the room was otherwise dark. “M’sorry, kitten,” he mumbled. “M’jus’ mad.”

“I know.”

Harry turned and looked at her. He hardly got a sedcond to look at how pretty she was. “You look beautiful, my love,” he murmured. “S’no wonder y’got him all flustered,” he smirked.

She sighed; the relief palpable in the air. “I’m so sorry.”

“Y’did nothing,” he shook his head. “M’jus...crazy ‘bout you, kitten. I’m sorry,” he grabbed her hands and brought them to his lips. Her fingers were still cold, and he frowned. “M’sorry,” he repeated and blew his breath across her hands to warm them.

She looked utterly distraught. “He’s going to lie,” she croaked suddenly. Her throat closing around the emotion. “He’s going to say I was making out with Kyle or something. It’s not true Harry, you have to know that. Any rumor you hear tomorrow, it’s unequivocally false,” she had tears in her eyes.

“Baby,” Harry whispered. “I would never believe someone over you.”

“No?” She hiccupped softly.

He cupped her face. “Course not, love,” he kissed her forehead, and it melted her icy body so immensely. The first time in an hour that she felt calm. “M’sorry he said something to you, or about you.”

“It’s...it’s okay,” she promised. “I know you’re probably still... jealous of him, or whatever, but I was really glad Kyle was there,” she told him. “I wished you were, but it was good.”

“Don’t ever stand between me and someone that wants t’hurt you,” he warned. The one thing he would probably blame Kyle for from then on.

“Kyle’s just a baby,” she reminded him.

“I don’t want t’talk ‘bout Kyle anymore.”

She giggled. “Okay.”

Harry pulled his shirt over his head. “Let’s go to bed. We have scones t’bake in the morning.”

*

Harry woke to about thirty messages from a variety of people all claiming to know bits and pieces of everything about last night. Other than Niall’s, he deleted every single message without so much as a glance at the details. Instead, he looked at the sleepy girl, tucked near his chest. He brushed her hair behind her ear.

There was a knock. “Are you naked?” Allie asked. He snorted.

“No,” he murmured quietly.

Despite the fact she had thrown up, she looked pretty good. “I used your toothbrush,” she said climbing into the bed beside her best friend. Harry shook his head.

“Hi Allie,” she murmured.

“Hi sweetie,” she yawned. “You going to make Sarah and I some scones?”

She nodded, tucking her face into Harry’s chest. “In a minute.”

The twin bed was not made for three people and Harry thought it was quite hilarious. “Should I get out t’let y’snuggle?”

“Please,” Allie yawned and threw an arm over her eyes. He chuckled and kissed the sweet girl’s forehead before climbing out of bed.

“Sorry,” she murmured.

“I’ll make sure we have everything,” he suggested. “Need a new toothbrush,” he rolled his eyes.

“I like Harry,” Allie whispered.

“I do too.”

*

While cleaning their little kitchen, Harry couldn’t stop himself from thinking about how much he loved her. It was becoming impossible to not say it every chance he got. But he wanted it to be special. More special than he could ever describe. He was sure she wouldn’t care, but it meant more to him that it be special. Especially after he flubbed their first real date.

“What?” She smiled as she looked up from the dishes in the sink.

“Do y’want t’go away next weekend?” He asked. “Before finals get too crazy?”

He was envisioning a romantic weekend away at Mitch’s family’s cabin up the mountain. Quiet, cold, for sure, but warm in the cabin. Just the two of them. He could tell her he loved her. No distractions. Shopping in the little town, cooking together in a full kitchen, sleeping by the fireplace, and just sweetness and a special weekend for the pair of them.

“Do I need to bring anything special?” She asked.

“Another coat, probably," he chuckled.

Her smiled was a mixture of relief and happiness. “I would love that.”

--

general taglist: @justlemmeadoreyou @daydreamingofmatilda @sunshinemoonsposts @tiredinwinter @loving-hazz @likeapplejuicenpeach @straightontilmornin @freedomfireflies @littlenatilda @kathb59 @babegoals @angel-upon @lilfreakjez @mleestiles @ameliaalvarez06 @canyonmoondreams @summertime-pills @daphnesutton @l4rrysh0use @perfectywrong @foreverxholland @lovrave @st-ev-ie @pandeebearstyles @toosarcastic03 @luvonstyles @tenaciousperfectionunknown @classychalamet @love-letters-to-uranus @emmaawbr @crossyourpeter

my friend's toyota taglist: @daphnesutton @storyschanging @vamprry @lovingfurypanda @inkedskin

I'm sorry if I missed anyone in the taglist. Please let me know if you'd like to join, if it didn't work, if you no longer want to be included, etc. :)

If you like this, check out my masterlist for more of my writing.

[swordgrace]

❝ 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐎𝐑 𝐎𝐅 𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆.❞

KINKTOBER WEEK ONE — OVERSTIMULATION.

⤿ pairings: jacaerys velaryon x betrothed!reader.

⤿ word count: 6.5K (i got carried away)

⤿ warnings: smut (mdni), experienced!reader, dom!reader, sub!jace, dry humping/grinding, jace is a virgin, horny/yearning jace, mutual pining, heavy kissing, overstimulation (fem!rec), fingering (fem!rec), handjob, cunnilingus (fem!rec), talking jace through it, praise kink, hair-pulling kink, lots of body kissing, teasing, dirty talk, lots of begging

⤿ note: lowkey this is the final jace post for a long time, I think I got it all out & tried to combine some kinktober requests all into one :)) hope y’all enjoy!

Dusky curls fall across pallid features, brows creased in concentration with a curtain of stoicism.

The scrawling of a quill scratches hastily against parchment, its destination unknown to you. It is difficult to see him as a man grown, for men do not often pout with pliant lips.

Nightfall brings an unwanted chill, the first inklings of oceanic ice biting away at your bones, swirling about through the ancient stronghold of Dragonstone. Even the fur-lined slip you wear does not offer much comfort.

In the sparse moments that you shared with Jacaerys since the announcement of your union, you’ve strived to learn as much as you can about him. Loveless, tenuous arrangements were commonplace — you did not want to waste your years toiling alongside a man who cared little for you.

To your great fortune, he shared your sentiments, tracing the outline of your soul with his fingertips, gracing you with his time whenever he could. With the youth of the evening underway, you sought him out, having missed him at dinner.

Between the gap in the door and the cobbled archway, you stand within the shadows of the corridor, one palm perched along ancient mahogany. Wordlessly, you keep to your fleeting observations, hues flickering across the handsome plane of his visage.

The Prince of Dragonstone — your intended, whose kindly hand continued to cradle yours through the endless turbulence of a darkening political climate. You considered yourself lucky — it could’ve been much worse, an arranged marriage.

Jacaerys’s chambers fare far better than your own, befitting of royalty, steeped in Targaryen decorum and tapestries of crimson and black. Candlelight dances across his jaw, bathing him in a light so spectacular that it nearly rips the air from your lungs.

Handsome is a mere understatement — the Velaryon prince was every bit as comely as some gallant knight ripped from pages of a novella. Your stomach erupts with constant butterflies whenever you catch a glimpse of him, longing to tangle yourself within him.

For a moment, he pays you little mind, drowning in a sea of parchment, tackling the growing duties ushered in by the brink of war. You admired his desire for usefulness — he had brought plentiful allies into the fold with his determination and ambition.

“You did not come to dinner,” Your announcement is disarmingly gentle, the croon of a songbird through dusk as you slip inside of his quarters. It seems to ensnare him then, having you here, unchaperoned. “Are you not famished?”

You carried a silver plate of lukewarm foodstuffs, roasted quail, broiled vegetables, and a smattering of fruit — his stomach lurches at the sight. “I suppose I lost track of time,” He exhales, placing his quill down atop his desk. “Forgive me — my responsibilities seem rather endless.”

Beauty blossomed from you like a flourishing meadow, the warmth of springtime; tender, made to cloak him in your sweetness. He was captivated by you, still smitten to be alone in a room, and yet he committed countless sins within the recesses of his mind.

Between the occasional grace of your hand and a chaste kiss against his cheek, it left Jacaerys within a realm of wanting. An ocean of you, and he was drowning. It was improper to think of you in such a salacious manner, but the hot blood of youth prevailed.

“Then break from it,” You insisted, footsteps light as you crossed the threshold from doorway to desk, nudging the plate of food in his direction. “Hours without a quill in-hand will not hinder you any less.”

A threadbare smile graced his comely features, and he seemed accepting of your suggestion. In the time that you had been betrothed, he had made every effort to learn more about you — such efforts were not in-vain, as he made ample progress.

There was a kindly warmth to you, a depth that he found invigorating. You were shy, initially — time softened you, and you unfurled like the petals of a moonflower, showing your promise and intelligence, your swift wit.

Reluctantly, Jacaerys submitted to your advice, abandoning his quill and parchment for the somewhat mundane taste of now-cold food. Still, it was enough to relieve the gnawing bite within his stomach, allowing him to relax as much as one could.

“Why does your quill scratch so furiously?” Your inquiry drifted through the air, to be caught by him. It seemed that his only company was that of dust-laden tomes and endless parchment that swallowed him whole.

Begrudgingly, a wistful sigh tore past your betrothed’s rosy lips, fixed into a vexed expression. “I work tirelessly to bring allies into the fold for my mother’s cause,” He uttered, picking at the stem of a grape. “Some of it is to no avail.”

Empathetic, you placed your palm atop his shoulder, sinking into velvet and toughened silk. He nearly buckled beneath such a simple touch alone, fighting away the string of untoward thoughts. Instead, he reached, digits climbing to seize yours.

“Do not let this weight burden you so, Jacaerys. There are more than enough men to even the load,” Shaking his head, you were again privy to your intended’s glaring streak of stubbornness. “You do not have to take it all on your shoulders.”

“It is the only way to find some shred of worth, of usefulness,” He bemoaned his mother’s tight leash — she never let him scout, take to the skies on Vermax, participate in anything that wasn’t docile. “Being coddled in this way is maddening.”

Silken digits flexed around his hand, prompting him to relax, if he were even capable of such a thing. “If I were the Queen, my desire would be to protect you. Coddling can be easily mistaken for an overprotective nature.” You soothed, canting your head to one side.

He took little comfort in your words, as much as he longed to believe them. Perhaps he did not see such a goal now — in time, his thoughts may shift. “I will not trouble you with such thoughts any longer.” Jacaerys exhaled, and you let it rest.

In an unexpectedly sweet gesture, you brought his hand to the plushness of your lips, and as if you were some debonair swordsman, kissed his knuckles. The obvious flush of rose permeated his cheeks, and you then released his hand, much to his dismay.

Silence filled the void of conversation as you wandered about his chambers, quietly admiring the draconic decorum before seeking to sit, plucking at your nightgown. Being alone with him, here — it wasn’t entirely proper, and subconsciously, you were aware of this.

“Did supper yield any conversation of importance?” He inquired, eyes following you as you sat down atop the velveteen cushion of the chaise lounge. Hues of wisteria and mauve comprised your evening gown, colors that you wore splendidly.

“You did not miss much of anything,” Twisting around within your seat, you faced Jacaerys, tucking a fist beneath your chin. “Though, I certainly missed your presence. I feel like a stranger without you near.” You murmured.

Sent to Dragonstone to be at the side of your betrothed, you were away from home — unnerved, pensive, and left to wander about with no true direction. Jacaerys had done his best at ensuring that you were comfortable, but the feeling was not a permanent one.

“For that, I apologize,” Jace sighed, finishing half of his plate before rising from his seat. “I fear that this conflict has put a strain on all within this castle. You are not the source of any indifference.” He assured you, circling the lounge to sit by your side.

Closeness was something he’d yearned for in a way he never had before, and within the proximity of your warmth, he seemed to bristle. Seven Hells, how would he outlast this storm? He could not seem to halt the mounting desire he had for you.

If it weren’t for his sensibility and wanting to be gallant for you, as your intended husband, the impetuousness of lust would’ve guided his hand.

Crackling embers within the hearth began to wane, basking you in shades of orange, growing duller with each passing moment. He sat up straighter in your presence, stealing glances where he could, committing your features to memory.

Reassured, you offered him a gracious smile, hands folded neatly within your lap. “It is comforting to know that my presence here is not unwanted,” You sighed, casting your gaze to the flames. “I must thank you for your kindness, Jacaerys.”

A fluttering heat settled within the pit of your stomach when you momentarily caught his eyes — earthy-brown swirling with something indiscernible, yet something faintly familiar. Carnality was not lost upon you, for you had experienced it before.

Jacaerys, however — you pondered if your betrothed was still virtuous. The sins committed in your youth had been carefully hidden beneath many layers, layers you felt as if you could reveal to him.

Clearing his throat, Jacaerys tempered himself, wanting to pull himself in from acting upon basic impulses. Some part of him felt truly depraved for thinking of you in such untoward ways, but he couldn’t help himself. Many evenings were spent in grisly solitude, dreaming of you, fantasizing.

”It is my duty as your betrothed to ensure your comfort,” His words emerged as somewhat breathless, as if he were labored in his attempts to draw air. You did not see it, but he fisted the cloth along his thigh in an attempt to relieve some tension. “I am to be your husband.”

“Yes, and for that, I am eternally grateful,” Steeling yourself, you decided to give him the truth, unobstructed and plain as a clear day. “I do not wish for there to be any secrets kept between us, which is why I must confess something to you.”

Perplexed, dark brows furrowed together, yet they seemed to show little signs of hostility or malice. There were countless options as to what this could be — anything. A secret laid bare before him in a moment like this had the potential to ruin everything.

Through a clenched fist and tight jaw, Jacaerys swallowed the growing lump within his throat, affording you the courtesy of his undivided attention. “What is troubling you?” Rigid, he waited for you to speak, noticing the brief hesitation that surrounded you.

A sliver of you feared judgment, that such past deeds would permeate your union in a sour light, but you hoped that Jacaerys would not begrudge you for it. With a steady inhale, you cleared your throat.

“I have lost my maidenhead,” Silently, you pleaded to whatever Gods would listen, hoping that Jacaerys would be kind enough to lend you his understanding. “Before this union, before I was betrothed to you. It was long in the past and something that weighs heavily on me.”

It was not anger he felt, but jealousy.

Jealous that another man had the pleasure of having you, to touch you, to live within your fair heart. He nearly shuddered when imagining you in such a lewd manner, so much so that his features became rosy in pallor. Yet, it was long in the past and something set in-stone.

Out of nervousness, you let out a soft cough, smoothing your palms across your legs. “I — Please forgive me, Jacaerys. I only wished to have transparency between us. I hope that this does not tarnish anything.”

“No,” Jacaerys inhaled sharply, hot air filling his lungs, heart thrumming beneath his ribcage. “It does not tarnish anything.” An angry heat crawled across his spine, settling his flesh ablaze with another wave of want, an ache that refused to leave him.

“You are not angry with me?” The sweetness of your inquiry tasted saccharine upon his tongue, honeyed words tangling around his heart. It wasn’t something that you were proud of, but you did not regret such actions, either.

“I am not,” He assured, tensing when you brazenly reached for his hand, squeezing it as a show of affection. Jacaerys felt so incredibly pathetic, feeling his cock twitch incessantly within his trousers from the mere touch of your heavenly hand. “You are still my betrothed. My sentiments will not change.”

Even still, he looked pensive, as if he were teetering on the brink of madness. There was a visible frustration within his features that betrayed his words, prompting you to question him sharply.

“You seem agitated, even still. What troubles you?” It was too shameful to confess to his insurmountable sins — how horribly he desired you, this heart of rot. Jacaerys feared that you would despise him if he said what was on his heart and mind.

Flushed and flustered, he looked away, yet you continued to chase after him, digits caressing across his hand. Gooseflesh iced his spine, throat growing with thickness as he shook his head. “It is improper, and unbecoming of a Prince.”

“More unbecoming than what I just confessed to you?” You wanted him to be put at-ease — intimacy was merely a fact of life, and you understood its sacredness, but the past was simply that. “Jacaerys, we are to be wed, you and I. Consummation will inevitably be apart of that. There isn’t anything that you could say that would turn me away now.”

He would seek absolution on the morrow for this — there was no returning from the onslaught of desire he now faced. It was as if a great storm had rattled his bones, and instead of rainfall, it was his lust laid bare, as dark as swirling thunderclouds.

Biting at his tongue, Jacaerys attempted to stave off his confession, earthen hues flickering away, clinging to anything else. It was wrong to think of you so often — and each thought was wrought with a stinging lust.

“I hunger for you,” It was spoken in a gravelly groan that made your insides twist with a newfound excitement. His cock was throbbing, aching with something awful. “I am envious of this man in your past, longing to be in his place. I have … Thought about you, in ways that are untoward.”

Fluttering breaths hitched within the depths of your throat, growing thicker with each passing moment. Nails dug into the cushion beneath you, his confession leaving behind a wake of fire, turning you to ash.

Admittedly, Jacaerys was not alone in his lascivious imaginations — you fantasized about the very same, more times than you could possibly count.

Jacaerys steeled himself, and as much as he desired to remain collected and maintain propriety, it was all dissolving at the seams. “I — I have not the experience that you have, but I hope that I can learn what pleases you.”

His affections were ravenous, the sting of youth that burned with inexperience, yet he cared little for such a thing. Jacaerys was eager, beyond desperate to know how to best pleasure you, longing for your instruction, if you would offer it freely.

A growing fire stirred within your loins, enough to make your breath hitch within your throat. “Do you wish to consummate tonight?” You questioned, and to that, Jacaerys shook his head.

“No, no — I want to touch you,” His desperation was gorgeous, something that you seldom experienced. “I long to learn your body, but I fear that I may covet you.” Jacaerys uttered, lips parting as a wisp of air tore past his mouth.

“There is no sin in coveting your wife,” Your voice had rolled into some mesmerizing lull, a near-purr that sent shivers down his spine. “Someone who is already yours.” The label was now established, and you were quite satisfied with that. You were blessed to have one of the better husbands in the realm.

Jacaerys huffed, pliant lips graced by firelight, deliciously pink as he met your mouth halfway. It was a frenzied kiss, born of his own yearning and overwhelming desperation, and yours began to climb to new heights of their own.

This hunger was different — it was thrilling and exhilarating, sending a rush of excitement to your stomach, thighs shifting together beneath your nightgown. Your hands reached for his shoulders, digits toying with the clasps of his cloak.

Tousled curls framed his freckled visage, cheeks blossoming with a delicate shade of rose as he kissed you, so passionate that it nearly stole your breath from your lungs. Your digits then crawled towards the nape of his neck, seeking to pull him closer.

A simpering groan stirred within his throat, erupting in a cacophony of breathy sighs as he felt you press closer. Silk clung to your frame, allowing him to glimpse your beauteous curves, to know that something perfect dwelled beneath.

Pupils blown with lust were shielded beneath thick eyelashes and fluttering lids as he scrambled to catch his breath, hands unsure of themselves. “Show me what to do,” Jacaerys sighed, feeling your lips halt to a crawl. “Please.”

To your awe and delight, Jacaerys was subservient, willing to learn and to let you guide his hand. Instinct would drive him soon enough. “Let your hand wander, wherever it pleases you.” Soft digits folded around his wrist, bringing his palm to your collarbone.

If he acted on such whims, there was no telling where his hand might travel, and so he restrained himself. Soft gossamer fabrics swept against his fingertips as he felt the divide where clothing met flesh. He wanted to unravel you, see you with his own eyes.

An excitable shiver iced his spine, jaw tensed as you slipped from your robe, only a curtain of thin silk resting between him and your body. His features seemed permanently steeped in a warm blush, painted with a swath of rose and pink.

The soft peaks of your nipples pebbled beneath fabric at the loss of your robe, gooseflesh raking across your skin at the pace of a wave. His hesitation was visible, etched into his features as he deliberated on what to do, afraid of startling you as if you were a doe in the woodlands.

It was then when you pressed closer, slipping yourself into the expanse of his lap, tossing a leg over his hips until you settled fully. His earthy hues widened, breath hitching within the depths of his throat as he struggled to maintain his composure.

What he wanted to do and what was expected of him were two forking avenues. Jacaerys felt his mouth water involuntarily, palms finally finding their confidence as he placed them atop your hips, caressing toward your thighs. “You are mesmerizing, and even that is a sore understatement.”

His honeyed words elicited a smile from you, fingers gracing the velvet of his doublet, seeking to slip beneath the clasps to remove his tunic. “May I?” You inquired, eyelashes fluttering in rapid succession as your betrothed nodded breathlessly.

As nimble fingers sought to rid him of his tunic, Jacaerys craned forward, mouth desperately seeking your own. A delicate gasp slipped past your lips, dancing with his own, hands preoccupied with feasting upon bare flesh.

He was lean, musculature present yet nothing close to bulky. Broad shoulders were covered in smatterings of freckles that climbed toward his visage, dusted across his face. Jace shivered beneath your palms as they skirted across his chest.

The prominent tent within his trousers brought about an ache like no other, one that he longed to extinguish. Your position made it difficult for him to focus, occasionally bumping your core against him, thighs squeezing incessantly at his hips.

The galloping of his heart slammed against his ribcage, a fluttering sensation spreading like hot tendrils throughout his chest. Darkening hues caught a glimpse of your breasts, yearning to see you without any obstruction at all.

A pang of anxiousness swelled with his gut, the nervousness of performing, of ensuring that you were well-satisfied by his hand. Each kiss evoked a wave of desire that threatened to burn him to ash in your fire, feeling your fingers rake through his curls.

His hands kindly roamed over your body, cupping the swell of your hips through your gown before rising across your stomach. They inevitably sought your breasts, kneading into your clothed flesh, and he felt the soft moan stir within your throat.

Only thin laces provided a degree of separation — between your heavenly flesh and his sinful hand.

“Where do you enjoy being touched?” Jacaerys whispered, features feverishly hot, basked in an orange glow; ethereal, with the makings of a true prince. “I wish to please you.” The needy strain within his tone filled your belly with fire.

“By your hand? Everywhere,” You crooned, dazzled by his gentleness and eagerness to learn. Jacaerys touched you with true selfless intent, driven by the carnal desire to please you, satisfy you as your intended husband. “Between my legs, my thighs, breasts, neck.”

Jacaerys reached for the laces of your nightgown, searching your countenance for any sign of hesitation. “May I undress you?” He questioned, voice pitched with lust, a delicious husk that scratched a certain part deep within you.

“Yes,” A huff, a sigh of relief — you were the very picture of temptuous beauty, armed with the grace of a maiden. You watched with thinly-veiled rapture as Jacaerys gingerly tugged at the laces, silk sagging upon your form. “You are so perfect.”

He was a novice still, merely an apprentice when it came to the intricacies of sensuality, yet hearing your sweetly-spoken praise made him preen. Billowing silk fell away, unraveling your form until it was naked flesh exposed to the warmer air of his chambers.

Gods, you were so beautiful — painfully so, a goddess incarnate, made for him to worship so reverently at your feet. Jacaerys could not mask his want for you, tracing along your bare flesh as if you were a map of constellations, yet even stars would envy you.

With a steadily-growing confidence and assurance, Jacaerys’s fingers caressed along your thigh, tracing upward until he reached the pliant curve of your chest. He cupped your breast, feeling you bristle beneath his touch, thumb brushing across your nipple.

A shiver gripped you, lips parting with a soft gasp as you careened forward, gooseflesh crawling along your spine. “Jacaerys,” A low moan stirred within your throat, eyes pleasantly half-lidded. You felt his lips cautiously press against the slope of your jaw. “Don’t stop.” You sighed.

Swallowing the lump of anxiousness within his throat, Jacaerys did not deliberate, attempting to shed himself of his hesitancy. Each kiss was exploratory, soft lips peppering themselves toward the column of your throat.

He continued to knead and toy with your breast, savoring the sensation of silky flesh within his palm, digits flicking over your nipple. Your hand raked through his curls, absentmindedly tugging until it evoked a groan from his mouth.

Warm, molten heat coalesced between your thighs, slick against your core as you rocked yourself against his growing erection. Jacaerys gasped, lips nearly faltering, but he didn’t want to tear himself away from you so soon.

His kisses became fervent, hot against your flesh as he kissed his way across your throat, seeking your collarbone. Your unattended breast did not lack the attention for long, as he kneaded into your chest with a passionate need.

“Use your mouth.” You instructed, voice teetering along the fine edge of breathlessness, teeth grazing across your lower lip. Jacaerys peered at you, visage flushed with pink, earthy hues flickering toward your breasts.

Jacaerys obeyed, mouth making a trail toward your chest, holding you aloft. Curious lips peppered themselves over your breast, shuddering at the sensation of your nails gently raking over his scalp. “Here?”

You nodded, unable to pry your eyes away from him as he took one of your breasts into his mouth, teeth grazing soft flesh, sucking at your nipple. A wanton moan tore past your lips, such a cry causing his grasp to tighten, your back arching into him.

“Perfect,” Sweetly-spoken praises drifted throughout his chambers, hips incessantly grinding themselves against his clothed tent. Jacaerys nearly moaned in-tandem with you, kissing your chest with gallantry, attempting to stave off his burning arousal. “Do you enjoy that?”

Feigning ignorance as to not give you an edge, Jacaerys looked to you, flushed countenance betraying the words coming out of his mouth. “Enjoy what?” He inquired, hoping to distract you by craning upwards for a kiss.

“This,” Perplexed, you rocked your hips forward again, your cunt brushing against the tent in his breeches. Jace very nearly collapsed beneath your gesture, dark brows furrowing together. “Does it feel pleasurable?”

Jacaerys hesitated, terrified of reaching his peak and ending things prematurely. “Yes,” He panted, throat swimming with a certain thickness. “Gods, I need you — you can’t continue like this.” He pleaded, somewhat sheepish. “I do not wish for it to end so soon.”

Planting a kiss against your betrothed’s brow, you cocked your head to one side. “Nothing has to end once you’ve reached your peak, Jace,” He reveled in your use of his nickname. “There is plenty left to do.”

Filled with a semblance of relief, your intended traced his hands along your sides, feeling along your body. “What would you want me to do?” Eagerness crept into his voice, something you greatly appreciated.

“Kiss me between my legs,” You suggested, watching the scarlet pallor flourish within his cheeks, spreading toward his throat. “Touch me, if it pleases you.” As if to accentuate your statement, you grinded against him again, eliciting a husky moan from the depths of his throat.

Dragging his hand toward the apex of your thighs, he peered at you for tutelage, guidance on where exactly to touch you. Wordlessly, your hand slipped to his wrist, coaxing his digits to your slick cunt, noticing the blush on his features.

Admittedly, you were just as feverishly hot, lips parting slightly as he began to explore, concentrating on your satisfaction. Two fingers parted your petals, seeking to stroke along your slit. It evoked a soft gasp from you, hips careening into the subtle gesture.

“There?” Jacaerys questioned, digits creeping upward until they softly rolled around your clit, stimulating that electric clutch of nerves. You moaned, and it seemed to offer him some answers. “Is that what you want?” He whispered, octave sultry in its resonance.

His words made you smitten, yet you nodded in response, watching as he began to find his confidence. Letting your palms drift toward his abdomen, your back arched as he began to toy with your clit, reveling in the pleasure scrawled across your countenance.

His perfect lips consumed your whimpers, swallowing them whole in the embrace of his mouth. Jacaerys kissed you hard, lips dancing in such a heated entanglement, yet his digits never ceased their movements.

Eager digits preened through his dark tresses, one fist gripping at the nape of his neck. Your other hand sought to find the waist of his trousers, tugging at the strings until they loosened altogether. His visage appeared bewildered, as if he didn’t expect it, yet he didn’t want you to stop.

A whine tore through your throat as he circled your clit with a clumsy inexperience, yet you wouldn’t fault him for it. Jacaerys exerted more effort into learning alone than your previous paramour ever had, and you had nothing but gratitude in your heart.

Jacaerys’s fingers graced places where he knew he could hear you — evoke a myriad of disgraceful noises from your tongue, a maiden of desire. He found his pace inevitably, digits sinking along your weeping cunt before gracing your clit again.

This repetitive pattern made your thighs twitch, perspiration glittering along your brow as you brazenly loosened your betrothed’s underclothes. “I want to touch you,” You whispered near the shell of his ear. “I would not neglect you so.”

With a shiver of anticipation, those dilated, earthy hues of his silently pleaded with you to do whatever you wanted — Seven Hells, he would never belong to another. He was yours, imploding upon himself with your touch and tender gaze alone.

He nodded, pink and compliant, assisting you with maneuvering his breeches aside enough for you to free his cock. Jacaerys was embarrassed at how eager he’d become from this alone, length glistening with a sheen of precum.

Jacaerys did not allow his hand to still completely, lazily tracing his digits across your cunt, shivering whenever your soft palm encircled his length. The contact elicited a breathless groan from his mouth, unable to conceal the wave of excitement that flooded through him.

The tender clash of your lips sent a rush of warmth through you, coalescing between your thighs, heat stirred by the presence of Jacaerys’s fingers. Ensuring a sluggish pace, your hand stroked along your lover’s cock, thumb brushing over the head.

His stomach felt unnaturally tight, a coil of festering heat that slowly unraveled itself. “Gods, you are incredible.” Jacaerys huffed against your lips, voice nearly tapering off into a low whine when you began to kiss his jaw.

Pleasure was mutually exchanged, touching one another in-tandem, bodies beginning to glisten with a sheen of perspiration. It was your lips that lingered against his neck, showering his sweet skin in an untold amount of feather-light kisses.

Flushed with embarrassment, he felt the occasional jolt of his hips as he thrust into your hand, cock throbbing with an overwhelming bliss.

Jacaerys felt trapped within some lust-ridden haze, focus unsteady and sluggish. A soft, simpering moan resonated from you, drifting beside his ear, taking residence within his mind.

A cacophony of crass noises emanated throughout the walls of his chambers — breathy sighs intermingled with wanton moans, the exchange of flesh for fantasy. Soft lips peppered themselves along his freckled shoulder.

Never faltering in your ministrations, your hand continued to stroke along his cock, pace developing into something evocative. Jacaerys groaned, eyes half-lidded, pliant mouth parted as a string of satisfied sighs escaped him.

The simmering flame of desire burned brightly within the pit of your stomach, his digits continuing to stroke along your cunt. A cry of delight tore past your lips, nails lightly digging into his shoulder.

Embarrassment rippled through him whenever he happened to moan, flushed like a ripe peach. His ministrations were passionate, done in a flurry of desperation and excitement. “I … I —” Jacaerys groaned.

“Jace,” You panted, gooseflesh raking across your spine as you rocked your hips forward, seeking any shred of friction. “Gods, I need you.” The words nearly bit his heart into two, oozing crimson desire and want.

“You have me,” Jacaerys insisted through a strained sigh, a solemn promise through pleasured groans. His hips jolted again, cock desperately sliding against your palm, begging for anything you offered to him. “Seven Hells!” He groaned.

Pleasure mounted, swirling within him like a tumultuous wave, one that he seldom experienced. Digits began to still within you, losing their rhythm, abandoning it for something erratic. He chased after his encroaching release, coil beginning to unfurl within his stomach.

Another kiss invited his own demise as you sought sanctuary within his mouth, pliant lips tangling with one another. Your hand continued to drag itself along his cock, thumb idly flicking over the head of his length, bleeding warmth.

Your nerves burned with desire, every fiber of your being consumed by Jacaerys’s presence. You hadn’t felt such a kindly touch before — even your last spark did not bother to learn.

As Jace’s head began to tilt backward, his lips barely graced the curve of your jaw before he came, sudden and white-hot. His spend fell in hot tendrils against your palm, falling to his stomach in a glistening sheen.

He did not expect to come undone so swiftly, but it was the first time you had touched him in such an amorous manner. Half-lidded and dazed, Jacaerys attempted to recuperate, reaching to cup your cheek.

“Forgive me, I did not think to warn you,” He huffed, chest stinging with heat as he fought to breathe deeply again. “That was …” Words turned to ash upon his tongue, features painted with a delicate shade of crimson.

“Invigorated by the moment,” You mused, pressing a kiss against his cheek before crawling off of him, moving toward the basin of water on his vanity. “For one without experience, you do not act clueless.”

Retrieving a rag, you prepared to return to him — but he was at your heels. “Jacaerys?” The very picture of longing, looming beside you as his hand graced the curve of your breast, caressing towards your stomach.

“I want to taste you,” He rasped, his gaze practically begging for you to let him. Gently, he plucked the rag from your fingertips, cleaning himself off with haste. “Please.” Jacaerys groaned.

It was as if the fire within your belly burned thrice as hot, demanding to be extinguished with all its might. Your lips parted, fingers curling into the wood of his vanity as you pressed your thighs together.

Jacaerys’s lips descended upon yours in an ardor-laced frenzy, a groan stirring within his throat, hands immediately seizing your hips. Instinct drove him, desire renewed, as bright as your own flame.

You did not hesitate, reaching for him with a swiftness, digits tangling within his dark curls. He was a godly sight, laces of his trousers undone, visage flushed, earthy hues nearly black with desire. He hadn’t felt so strongly about someone before, anchored to you.

One could not mistake his passion for roughness — Jacaerys was gallant, a man of honor, and you suspected that being rough was not in his interest. Each clash of your lips left you reeling, dizzy with affection, flesh crawling with heat.

“I need you, so terribly,” Jacaerys whispered, filling you with a euphoric sentiment. Desperation crept into his voice, a resonance that was laced with yearning, a craving. “May I?” He was needlessly polite.

Wordlessly, your head bobbed up and down in a series of swift nods, teeth snagging on the inner skin of your cheek. He reciprocated with a kiss against your shoulder, and then to your collarbone, forging a path with his mouth.

Jacaerys only wished to map your flesh, to trace each curve as if you were a winding river — a river worth wading. His softened fingertips incessantly squeezed at your hips, gliding downward to seize handfuls of your haunches.

Each kiss brought forth a glow from you, interwoven with a myriad of throaty whines and whimpers. His confidence only blossomed from there, instilling a sense of pride within him as he kissed between your breasts.

“Jacaerys,” A sharp inhale ripped through your throat as he made his sluggish descent, savoring every inch of your body, skin like velvet beneath his tongue. “Do not torment me.” You hissed, aching for the embrace of his mouth.

It was you that dominated the current tension between you both, reaching for his crown of curls as you eased him downwards. Jacaerys obeyed, sinking onto his knees at your subtle instruction, kissing at your stomach.

He was at your mercy, peering up at you through thick lashes and flushed features, allowing you to take the initiative. You most certainly did, sluggishly guiding him toward your glistening cunt.

There was nothing he wanted more in this world than to oblige you, lips pressing all along your legs, mouth steadily finding the apex of your thighs. Jacaerys took care in spreading you apart, tongue raking hot embers across your cunt, your taste ambrosial.

A stirring fire of lust roused him, cock twitching within his breeches as he delved deeper into your core. His mouth was a thing of beauty, tongue sluggishly tasting you from your clit to your entrance.

Your chest heaved with wanton pants, hand forming a fist within his tresses, involuntarily tugging and pulling as you pleased. Jacaerys did not mind it at all, desperate to please you.

Tangled within his dark mane, you coaxed him closer, digits digging at the base of his skull. Jacaerys released a groan into your core, hands clamping down on your thighs with an ironclad grasp. Your nectar fell heavy upon his tongue, the sweetest of honey.

Jacaerys thoroughly delighted in the feeling of your hands within his hair, your hips occasionally stuttering and bucking forward, desperately seeking his mouth.

He was attentive, even for being a novice at the act itself, lapping at your cunt with a fervor. His plush lips drifted toward your clit, gauging your reaction to the sensation. You moaned, and that only seemed to encourage him.

With slow, eager laps of his tongue, Jacaerys made sure to savor you, letting it flick across your clit. The short, dizzying gasp that tore past your mouth spurred him on, as he pressed another string of kisses against your slit.

The continued sensation of your digits carding through his curls made him sigh with elation. “Jacaerys,” You whimpered, dizzying moans spurring him on. “Gods, you’re doing so well, so perfect.”

The lascivious praise he received made him groan into your cunt, desperate for you to shower him in compliments. He flourished with your sweet words, comely visage happily buried between your thighs.

His eagerness was palpable through each flick of his tongue, lost within the oasis between your legs. Your thighs burned, desire making you hazy, mind clouded with nothing but him.

A myriad of soft whimpers and whines escaped you, hand gingerly tugging on Jace’s hair as he showered your cunt in an alternation of steady licks to lingering ones.

The short, dizzying gasp that tore past your mouth spurred him on, as he pressed another string of kisses against your slit. It was overwhelming, the stimulation — you very nearly collapsed.

Instead, your euphoria manifested as your climax, sudden and without pause, a rush of heat that spilled forth. Jacaerys groaned, continuing to lap at your cunt as if he were drunk upon it, prompting you to peel him off of you.

The sight of your betrothed on his knees before you, panting with exhilaration, chin glistening with your slick — it was a sight that you wanted to see again and again.

“That was incredible,” Careening your digits through the top of his scalp, Jace moved into your embrace, angling his face to kiss your palm. “You did wonderful — are you certain that this is new for you?” You mused.

Jacaerys blushed, yet held firm on his honesty. “It isn’t new anymore,” He chimed, wishing that he could have you like this all the time. “I wish to please you again, if you’ll let me. Tomorrow, perhaps?”

With a cheshire smile, you coaxed him up from the ground, pressing a string of kisses all along his collarbone and neck. He seemed quite pleased with it, holding you closer.

“Tomorrow.” You sighed into his skin, wordlessly guiding him to bed. You wanted to lay with him, learn his heart, more than you already had. As you settled beside him, he appeared beyond elated. “But there is still tonight left.”

[q-spam]

yk sometimes i think about how me and my friend have such similar hobbies but in completely opposite directions. like, we both like fantasy novels but shes reading reverse harem smut and im reading political subterfuge.

[pacofprunes]

cotton candy grapes

thanos / player 230 x reader (squid game)

warnings — very short drabble, reader has pink hair, noncon kissing, biting that draws blood, choking, subtle threatening, drug use

by clicking read more you consent to reading this content and you are 18+

somehow, he hadn’t noticed you in the first game. you’d think the only other person there with dyed hair, that was pink, would immediately get his attention. but he didn’t notice until after the games when it was time to vote, you smacking that red X. he only saw your hair though, he wanted to see your face. he knew you had to be stunning.

the voting ends and he sees you on the other side sitting on your bed with your face in your hands. he gets up to go over to you.

“where are you going?”

nam-gyu his lap dog. he sits up out of his bed to see what his owners doing.

“none of your business.”

he walks away towards you, nam-gyu watching the whole time. on the way there he pops a pill in his mouth.

“hello señorita.”

you look up and he’s stunned. god you were beautiful. he whistles at you.

“what’dya say you join me and my team over there beautiful?”

he points to the other side where you see a group of people.

“uh, no thank you.”

“come on babe don’t be so difficult. you’re over here all alone, you need alliances. and i, thanos, the greatest rapper there has ever been, am a great ally.”

you pause and think. it would be nice to have allies in a shit hole like this. but then you think back to the first game. right in front of you, a whole row of people fall forward and get shot. it wasn’t from somebody tripping. no. it’s because this guy who says his name is thanos pushed them. you’re pulled out of your thoughts and look him in the eyes.

“you killed all those people.“

he looks at you with a shocked sarcastic smile.

“did i?”

“yes. yes you did. the first game, you pushed them all. no i don’t wanna fucking be on your team are you crazy?”

he puts a hand on your shoulder and pushes it back slightly before you slap his hand away.

“come on señorita, money is money! you didn’t know those people and neither did i!”

he laughs, sick. he leans forward closer to your face and then moves over to your ear.

“plus, you don’t wanna know what’ll happen if you don’t join my team and switch that X.”

he leans back and points to the red X on your chest. flicking it. you stand up and ignore him before walking away, going to the bathroom to avoid him. he just stares your way.

“girls who play hard to get are so fucking hot.”

he runs a hand through his hair before going back to his degenerate friend nam-gyu. telling him all about you. granted he twisted a lot of shit. claiming you wanted him so bad, but was just so intimidated by how famous he is that you didn’t want part of that spotlight, and that’s why you said no. definitely was not what you said at all though.

you come back in the room, your pink hair bouncing behind you. god it looked so soft. he should’ve ran his hand through your hair while he had the chance. lights out comes about and he just sits up on his bed, taking another pill. thinking to himself what his next action should be. what if you died tomorrow and he didn’t even get the chance to kiss you? he gets up and walks back over to your side. you were trying to go to sleep, but weren’t asleep yet. he simply just grabs your elbow and pulls you behind the bed, pressing you against the wall.

“what the hell is wrong with you?”

he looks you dead in the eye with a crazed look. and rubs his hands through your hair. so fucking soft.

“babe, you’re just so fucking beautiful, what if you die tomorrow? and i don’t get the chance to smoke with you, kiss you, fuck you…”

you give him a disgusted look before he grabs your face in both hands giving you a tight kiss. forcing his tongue in your mouth. you push at his chest with your hands before stomping on his foot and he jumps back.

“you fucking bitch.”

he goes back up to you before you get the chance to get away from him and he grips your hair between all his fingers. you wanted to scream but didn’t wanna make things worse. plus, nobody would help you in a place like this. constant killing and fighting. nobody gave a fuck about you. he takes a deep breath before he breaths it all out into your neck. he wraps his hands around your neck as a warning, rubbing his fingers in circles around it.

“you’re so beautiful, one of the prettiest women i’ve ever seen. just give a handsome guy like me a chance.”

he kisses you again, hands still around your neck, doing light little pulse squeezes every few seconds as a warning. he bites your lip this time drawing a little bit of blood, causing you to go to scream. but as soon as you do, he’s squeezing your throat as tight as he can, you can’t get any air, not even a single noise out. he continues to kiss you before pulling away and looking you in the eyes as you struggle to breathe. finally he lets go and pushes your hair behind your ear.

“i expect you change your mind tomorrow, kay babe? wouldn’t wanna hurt you even more, i really do like you.”

he takes a step back and you guys just hold eye contact and he swings his cross necklace, playing with it in his fingers before opening it.

“if you ever want some, just come to me. the pink one suits you perfectly.”

[luveline]

hii jade are u going to write something about hotchner!reader and spencer any soon?

—You panic when Spencer’s late for a date. He makes it up to you as best as he can. fem, 2.6k

cw implied past child abuse

You weren’t young when you were adopted, so you were instilled very quickly with the need to be grateful. How lucky you were to be given a second chance at a family. How you owed it to your new family to be the perfect daughter and sister to a father who didn’t like you and two brothers your senior. 

Family for you is complicated. It always has been. You didn’t get the unconditional love you’d hoped for in all of them, but you have one older brother who loves you as though you and him are two branches of the same tree, and maybe that’s enough for anyone. 

“Yes!” Aaron cheers, jumping up from the bench. 

You spin around with a grin that’s half shy, half ecstatic. “I did it!” 

Jack runs up to your legs. “You got a strike!” 

You pretend to give him a karate chop. “Boosh! Double strike.” You grin as Aaron sizes up the pins down the long ally. “Think your dad can get one before we run out of turns?” 

“No!” Jack laughs. 

You laugh at his easy answer. His father, determined now in the face of your disbelief, picks up a number twelve ball and stands at the arrows to take his last turn. You brace your hands on Jack’s shoulders and wait for the line to be put down again. 

You’re pretty sure he’s throwing his turns to let Jack win. You’d not done the same until you realised the yawning gap in the scores, and maybe you’d feel embarrassed for not noticing if Aaron ever made you feel bad for anything, but he doesn’t. 

Your phone rings as he pulls back his arm. You ignore it. “Good luck, dad!” Jack says under your hands. 

It’s that good luck that gives Aaron his strike. You cheer with Jack as the ball glides straight into the first pin and veers on a spin toward the third, creating a wave of noise and action as the pins go flying back toward the baseboard. 

Aaron turns around with a huge smile. “Jack!” 

“You did it!” Jack cheers back. “Not first, but you did!” 

You grab your phone from your pocket. “Couldn’t let me have it, could you?” you ask. 

“What do you mean?” Aaron picks Jack up from the floor to hold against his chest, pointing at the screen with love. “Look at that, buddy, you won! Can you see that? You got the most points!” Aaron kisses his cheek, high on happiness. “Wow!” 

You have two missed calls from Spencer. To Aaron’s begrudgement, you and Spencer are actually going steady. The first attraction didn’t fizzle, the dates turned to dating turned to exclusivity; Spencer Reid is your boyfriend, and he’s supposed to be taking you out to dinner in ten minutes. 

“Everything okay?” Aaron asks, creeping closer to you, Jack still in his arms. 

“It’s fine, he’s just running late.” You notice his small frown. “His mom’s doctor wanted to talk to him, that’s all.” 

“How late is he thinking?” 

The plan was you’d go bowling with your family and then meet Spencer outside to eat at the Chinese restaurant just across the parking lot, but it’s not seeming so sure now. 

“He said half an hour. I’m pretty hungry,” you say, “he’s gotta speak to a psychiatrist about something. I can’t eat though, right? That’s rude.” 

“That’s not rude, honey. You can’t help being hungry as much as he can’t help being late.” As you’d noticed his, he notices your small frown. “You can’t go hungry,” he says with a shrug, “so you’re gonna have to come and eat something, but Spencer can join us when he’s done.” 

“Right, because you’ll love that.” 

“I’ve been on more dates with him than you have.” 

You take Jack as he opens his arms toward you. “I forget. I always think of you as his boss, and not his teammate.” 

Aaron grabs Jack’s backpack off of the bench, and your empty cups off of the table to throw away. “I am his boss. Okay, Jack, what do you want for dinner? What sounds good?” 

You, Aaron and Jack leave the bowling alley and end up in the Italian restaurant opposite of your originally proposed restaurant. You carry Jack on your hip and text Spencer with your open hand, content to let Aaron guide you through what little foot traffic there is to your table. Aaron sits on one side of the booth with Jack, and you slide into the other side. 

Spencer’s texts are getting more and more convoluted. He says he’s sorry, and then he says he has to call someone else, and then he needs to talk to his mom. You nibble your fingernail. 

“You okay?” 

You nod slowly. “Yeah, uh… Yes, everything’s fine.” 

“Is Spencer okay?” 

“I think he might cancel.” 

Aaron flattens his menu. “I’m sorry.” 

“It’s okay. I think his mom is having a bad day…” 

“What else are you worried about?” 

Jack saves you for a moment, “Dad, can I have juice?” 

“Yes, sweetheart, I’ll get you juice. Apple juice?” 

Jack presses his cheek to Aaron’s arm, earning himself a hug. 

“Are you tired?” Aaron whispers. 

“No.” 

“Okay. Hey, there’s a table over there with some colouring pages and crayons, do you see that? Do you want to do some colouring?” 

“Can I go get some?” Jack asks. 

“Yes. Don’t bump into anybody, okay?” 

The table isn’t far enough to worry, but Aaron splits his attention between Jack and you fairly evenly, just a tad more worry following his son. “Do you wanna talk about it?” Aaron asks. 

“You don’t think Spencer would lie, do you?” you ask. 

“Lie about his mother? I doubt it very much.” 

You trust Aaron, and you trust Spencer too, but Aaron has earned that trust over years and years where Spencer has been gifted it. He hasn’t done anything to break it, but he hasn’t proved he should have it yet either. And really, truly, it isn’t actually about what you believe of Spencer. 

You feel a bit nauseous, but your brother is the best person in the world, so you tell him why without preamble, “I’m worried that he’s going to get sick of me.” 

“Why would he do that?” Aaron asks. 

You scratch at the menu beneath your hand rather than meet his eyes. Because you’re awful. That’s what your father instilled in you, and it’s what you’ve come to learn. Eventually, the people who love you get tired of you. Everyone except Aaron, and isn't that proof of something? He’s the only man good enough to pretend you’re someone worth caring about. 

If he could hear your thoughts he’d probably cry. It’s why you’ve struggle to tell him. 

You rub your thumb into the side of your index finger, feeling the texture of your skin. “I think people just do.” 

Jack returns quickly, with paper and a huge fist full of crayons, though there are four colours altogether. “Well,” Aaron says, helping Jack back into his seat, crayons rolling released from a small fist every which way, “I don't. And Jack doesn’t, Haley doesn’t. I see no reason why Spencer would feel that way.” 

“What don’t I do?” Jack asks, frowning at his dad. 

“You don’t think Aunt Y/N’s bad at bowling, do you?” 

“You’re great at bowling!” Jack's eyes go wide. “I’m gonna make us a photo, to remember. We got strikes!” 

You let your face fall into your hand as Aaron strokes hair up the side of Jack’s head. It’s a soothing thing to see, you know the soft touch of his hand well, having been petted and patted through a hundred different bad moments. 

Spencer probably isn’t lying about why he’s late, but he could be. You wouldn’t blame him. 

“She’s very good at bowling,” Aaron says, hugging Jack to his side. “And so many other things, that’s why we love her. Should we make a list?” 

He used to love doing that, too. 

Your father wasn’t a nice or kind man. Aaron doesn’t know how it escalated, only knows what happened to him, and how he’d come to see you and you’d burst into tears the second he asked how you were. 

If Aaron knew how bad it was at the time he would’ve forced you to leave, but you never told the whole truth. He assumed it to be a mixture of everything —school was awful, dad was worse, and you were more isolated than most. 

Make me a list, he’d say. 

The first time you didn’t get it. You were a teenager sitting on his couch, his wife in the kitchen, a weight on your chest. What for? 

A list of the stuff that’s bothering you. 

Do you need a list? you’d asked. He had a knack for knowing more than you could say. 

I think we should make one. 

You realise now it was a strategy to calm you down. If you could quantify the things that were depressing you, you could begin to understand it, and hopefully dismantle some of the bigger problems. It didn’t always work, but it didn’t matter. It made you feel better just to have you and Aaron on the same couch with a notebook and a number two pencil. Don’t see my brother enough, he’d written with a sad face. 

Brother, you’d thought with a secret joy. He’s your brother. 

Jack and Aaron make a list they won’t show you. You order drinks and then dinner, waiting for a phone call or a text back you don’t receive. It’s disheartening, and when your pasta arrives, you can barely eat. 

“Honey,” Aaron says, “why don’t you go call him? You can see if he’s alright.” 

You poke at a shell with a tightly gripped fork. “What if he doesn’t want me to call him? It sounds serious.” 

“Maybe that’s why you should call him. I think he’d appreciate it.” He looks like he wants to reach for you, but ultimately, he doesn’t. “Take a minute for yourself, if nothing else. Everything’s okay, I promise.” 

“Sorry.” 

“For what?” Jack asks. 

You smile regretfully. “I’m just feeling confused today, babe. What about you? Are you confused about where your mouth is?” you tease lightly. 

Aaron gasps a laugh and reaches over to wipe Jack down with a napkin as you slip from the booth. You take your phone, worrying that Aaron’s eyes are on your back as you pass by the host booth and back out onto the street. The breeze kisses your clammy skin. 

Why do you assume that no one really likes you? It’s difficult to comprehend. Your thumb hovers over Spencer’s contact photo, debating, and debating. Should you call him? He might be preoccupied, upset even, and what if you make it worse? But if you don’t call him, you can’t reassure yourself that you’re not in trouble. 

He answers on the third trill. 

“Hello?” you ask. 

“Hey!” There’s a sound like something heavy has been put down. “Hey, I’m so sorry!” 

“Don’t be sorry!” you say immediately. “It’s okay. Are you okay?” 

Spencer’s voice is a little high and fast, but beside that, he has a nice tenor. When he’s calm and feeling up to it, alone at night with nothing else to do, he’ll read to you from one of his infinite books, his syllables catching and tripping over air as you rub your nose into his arm. 

“I’m fine! There was a mixup with some medication at the sanitarium and they realised my mom’s dose of one of her antipsychotics has been charted higher than she was really taking, so she’s been having a hard time, it’s a total mess but I think we have it figured out now. How was bowling?” 

“Spencer, are you sure it’s okay?” 

“It’s fine.” He laughs softly, not a hint of condescension or derision for you, but an emotion you can’t name. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to take so long.” 

“It’s okay.” 

“I mean, it’s fine if it’s not okay. I know you can’t help yourself sometimes, but you don’t have to tell me it’s fine if it’s not fine.” 

“Uh–” You cough around it. “No, it really is. You can’t help it. Family is important, right?” 

“It’s so important. Listen, where are you right now?” 

“I’m just standing outside of the Pasta Factory by the bowling alley. I tried to have dinner ‘cos I’m starving, but… I think I lost my appetite.” 

“What? Are you okay?” 

“I’m having one of those days, I guess?”

“What kind of day?” 

His voice is bouncing strangely, as though he’s talking near you. You pause, turning on your heel to look down the few stairs into the parking lot asphalt. 

Spencer’s walking up them, a bouquet of roses in his hands. 

“Hi,” you say, the phone still pressed to your ear. 

Spencer puts his away. “Hi. 

His hug is full, all-encompassing and warm as he wraps his arms around you, the bouquet a cacophony of crinkling against your shoulder. He smells like aftershave, his Tom Ford one with the woody tinge that has you pressing your nose into the top of his shoulder to just breathe. Your phone digs into his spine. He doesn’t say anything about it. 

“Hey,” he says softly, giving you a similar swaying, back and forth. “I’m sorry I’m late, I had to call them, but it wasn’t fair on you.” 

“Spencer,” you say, holding him tightly. “You’re my boyfriend.” 

“Don’t sound so unsure.” 

“No, but. We can be flexible, right?” 

“Of course we can, but I’m still sorry.” He peels back to smile at you, his eyes gently squinted. “So what’s wrong? What’s making it one of those days?” 

You can’t explain it to him. He likely doesn’t need you to. 

You’re expecting him to pull away —you’re in a public place and affection isn’t his usual expertise— but he doubles down. New boyfriend or not, this hug feels like it’s from somebody who’s loved you for years and years. 

“What’s making it a bad day?” he asks quietly. 

“I don’t know…” You rub your nose self indulgently against his shoulder. 

“Are you sure you have no appetite? Maybe that’s what it is? Stuff tends to feel bigger or more upsetting when we’re hungry because low blood sugar prompts your body to release more hormones that affect your cortisol level, and cortisol plays a big part in how your mind interprets your emotions.” Spencer pulls away, his hand sliding up your shoulder to hold you in place. He grins. “So I think you should still let me take you to dinner. Especially if you didn’t eat much.” 

Why would Spencer lie to you? you think, relieved. He wouldn’t. And the idea that he’s going to get sick of you, that’s rooted in bad lessons from a poor situation. It’s not a reflection on you. 

“We will,” you decide, “I just have to get my stuff. I left my bag, and Jack’s writing me a list.” 

“What list?” 

“A list of stuff I’m good at.” 

He doesn’t waver. “Really? Can I add stuff too?” You turn your nose up in an unsubtle prompting, satisfied when Spencer gives you a quick, smiling kiss. “Sorry,” he says, though his apology is distracted by a fond undertone, “I missed you.” 

You receive a few more gentle kisses for all your worries, and you begin to feel better. Spencer presses the roses into your hand and encourages you into the restaurant with his hand spread behind your back.