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chleem · 3 days ago

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Flashing Lights #7

Series; actor Drew x actress reader

Summary: Drew gets involved in the worst scandal of his career. One way to solve it? Proving to the whole world that he’s the sweetest lover to exist. Who better to help than the one person he can’t stand? You, an A-class actress with an alcohol addiction. So, will Drew clear up his reputation, or leave with a bigger mess to clean up?

Genre: fake dating, enemies to lovers, slow burn, angst, smut, fluff

Warnings: mentions of alcohol, swearing, mentions of k!lling oneself, mentions of rape & sa, mentions of drug usage, smoking & vaping,

⋆.˚ please dont copy my work, if inspired please tag me

⋆.˚ this is entirely fictional, if uncomfortable then don't read

♡⸝⸝ chapter6 | index | chapter8

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Mid-June 2024

“I don’t want to say goodbye.”

“This isn’t goodbye.”

“This is!” You yell, forcing your tears into your eyes as you stare at Hugh. “The world is ending tomorrow. I… I’m gonna be with my brother soon. I’m happy, but I want to live…for you.”

Hugh shakes his head, tears forming in his eyes as well. “No, I’m not saying goodbye to you. We’re going to go on, live our lives-“

“Stop pushing the problem away, Jack-“

“I want to! Because I can’t say goodbye to you, I love you,” Hugh confesses, and you suck in a breath, the tears flowing down. “I love you, Sam. And…it hurts that I can’t grow old with you…”

You cry even more, before dropping to the ground, your sobs filling the silence of the set. You don’t look at Hugh, knowing he’s a great actor and will respond to your improv in exactly the right way; he always does.

You feel his presence before he reaches you—gently wrapping his arms around you.

You let your face fall into his chest, as his hand gently rubs your hair, soothing you.

“Cut!”

Hugh pulls away from you, getting up. He helps you up, and you thank him while rubbing your tears away.

“That was great,” he compliments you, a smile on his lips.

“Yeah,” you murmur, as the staff comes and fixes your makeup.

Director Ravens yells through his megaphone, “Great scene, take five!”

The staff follows you as you walk to your seat, and freeze.

Drew, already sitting in it. You didn't expect him to be at your set, since he was probably on his own schedule. But he’s here, and he seems to be in a good mood.

You watch as he pulls a random chair over, tapping it. “Hey.”

You glance at the makeup staff, and she goes away. You sit down besides Drew, staring ahead. “You sat here all morning?”

“Just a while. The view’s great,” he says, and you feel his eyes on the side of your face.

You lean back into your chair, staring at the Greece ocean view. It was beautiful, but you didn’t want to agree with him. Not after what he did this morning. “It’s fucking boring.”

“I don’t know…Hugh Jackman’s a pretty good view.”

You snort at his lame comment, turning and meeting his eyes. Wow. You don’t think you could ever get used to how annoyingly blue his eyes are. “Why are you here?”

“Goldfish memory?” He teases, a corner of his lips curling up.

“I don’t remember unimportant things,” you talk back, an annoyed frown on your face. “And can’t you see I’m busy?”

“Until today. You wrap up today.”

“Who told you?”

“Stop asking the obvious, y/n,” Drew answers, but no hint of annoyance in is voice. “And y’know why I’m here. We got a date, remember?”

Right. Your afternoon was reserved for Drew, which the company told you was going to be a date around the Greece streets. It’s your little ‘getaway’ as a couple, enjoying time away from the press. But, the company planted the information to some fan-cites/media, to make sure the world knew you were on a vacation with Drew, indicating things were serious. It sounds stupid, but that’s the main goal of a PR stunt, to gain more publicity.

Gosh. Drew’s face pisses you off. Even more, now that you’re fully sober.

You finished the bottles of wine in the hotel room last night, and for some reason, the hotel refuses to send more into your room. Plus, cigarettes that you left on the table are gone.

You fully suspect that Drew took your cigarettes. As for the wine? What kind of hotel refuses to send wine upstairs to VIP guests?

You were on edge this whole morning, even considering to cancel this shoot. But Laura persuaded you to do it, and that she was on her way to buy a pack for you. But after two hours, she’s still not here and instead, Drew’s here.

Drew’s warm hand places itself on your knee, and only then have you noticed that you’ve been bouncing your legs due to anxiousness. “You okay?”

“You took away my shit,” you confront him. It was like a switch was turned on inside of you, and the semi-sweet y/n was gone. Now, it was short-tempered y/n. All because his face now reminded you of how sober you are right now.

“No idea what you’re saying,” he denies, the corner of his lips still up. You furrow your eyebrows, and he wipes the smirk off with another hand. “I don’t have your shit.”

You sit up, startling him to remove his hand away from you. “You do! Give it to me, I need it.”

“You don’t need it, y/n,” Drew glances around to make sure no one’s listening. “You’re doing perfectly fine right now-“

“I’m not. I’m freaking out here,” you confess, which was weird, because you don’t say that to Drew. But now, you were focused on getting even just one smoke; you wanted, no, needed your cigarettes back. “I’m much better with it, just give me-“

“No, y/n,” Drew says, his tone more serious now. “You survived a morning without a smoke, or a drop of alcohol. You’re fine.”

You stare into his blue eyes for a hint of lie, for his statement to be wrong. Because he is wrong, you weren't fine. You were a hundred times more anxious in front of a camera, and although Director Ravens had no comment towards your acting, you felt the worst. “That doesn’t mean I don’t want my stuff back.”

“I don’t have it,” he firmly says again.

“You’re the only one that would do such a thing.”

“Well, I didn’t, okay?” He replies immediately, his eyes pleading for you to believe him.

“Fuck,” you curse, looking away from him and towards the ocean.

Your leg must’ve been bouncing again, because Drew puts his hand on your leg again. You stop, looking down at his hand; you hate how it's so warm and somehow comforting.

He’s looking down on the ground, as if thinking about something. Then, he turns to you, starting to rub circles on your knee . “Let me show you.”

You speak up after a short pause, “Show me what?”

“How much better being sober is. How much better you are without the chemicals.”

"Y/n, why are you treating yourself this way?"

You stare into his eyes, hoping to catch bullshit in them.

But no. His eyes just show truth, determination, and comfort.

Wow. You’ve never seen someone stare at you like that.

Mostly empathy, jealous, hateful stares. But Drew…

Fuck. You almost forgot that he was a fucking actor.

You want to confront him, but Director Ravens interrupts through his megaphone, informing you to go back to shooting.

The staff comes, continuing to fix your makeup, and you get up, walking to the film set. You turn back and glance at Drew, who’s still staring at you.

His stare causes your stomach to warm up, even if you were highly suspicious of him.

——

True to his word, Drew shows you how much better it is when you experience the day sober.

He takes you through town, and of course, you complained at first, claiming that old buildings were a bore. Okay. You didn’t just complain. You fought, like you always did.

Drew had to pull you aside, out of public eye and fight back with you. Multiple times have you tried slipping off to get a smoke or a drink. But Drew was like a hawk, stopping you just in time.

In the late afternoon, Drew took you to the local markets, and okay, maybe you had fun there. A lot of fun.

Locals didn’t recognize the two of you, so you looked around freely. It was nice, to be in a place where not a lot of people knew who you were. You tasted the samples, buying small souvenirs, and even getting a funny art sketched of you and Drew.

“You speak Greek?” You mumble, while your mouth was stuffed with Lokma, which you learned was a kind of Greece donut. It was so delicious, you bought a pack that was straight out of the oven, eating while walking down the sidewalk.

The corner of his lips curl up, his eyes glancing down at you. “I can’t hear you,” he teases.

You eventually swallow the one in your mouth, and you ask him yet again.

“Basic words,” Drew shrugs, as you continue eating. “Is it that good?”

“Yes,” you murmur, stuffing another one into your mouth. His hand attempts to get the last one from the bag, but you slap it away. “This one’s mine.”

“You ate five already.”

“And?”

He shakes his head while smiling, before stopping at the crosswalk. It was late afternoon already, and you spent almost three hours at the local market alone. Drew didn’t complain; he even offered to hold the souvenirs you decided to buy. It was weird; one, you weren’t the type to buy souvenirs, and two, he offered to hold your stuff.

Then again, you’re fully sober and awake due to the amount of things you’ve seen today, and Drew seemed to be in a good mood.

Now, you were going to see another market, but it was mostly selling stuff such as flowers, souvenirs, or jewelry.

Without looking, you wanted to cross the road, but Drew quickly holds you back, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. You look up at him with stuffed cheeks, and he just looks ahead. “Did you eat your eyes as well?”

You roll your eyes, reaching for the last Lokma to eat. Just as you’re about to pop it into your mouth, Drew beats you to it, snatching it away with a grin. This bitch- that was the last one! “Hey! Give it back!”

He laughs, chewing it quickly, “you’re right. This is good.”

“That was the last one!” you whine, frowning as you stare at him in disbelief.

“I thought that was for me,” he says, swallowing the last bite and looking down at you with a teasing smile. “It wasn’t?”

The audacity-

But the lights must’ve turned green, because Drew leads you to cross the road, his arm still around your shoulders. “You owe me,” you say, pushing the empty bag into his chest.

He laughs yet again, his hand going to cover yours. You quickly pull away from his touch, and he just takes the bag and throws it into the trash can once you reach the other side.

He keeps his arm around your shoulders the whole time you’re walking around the market. The vibrant view of the local market distracts you - locals offering different samples for you to try.

The only time Drew leaves your side is when you’re distracted by a street singer, and you sit down on the benches, being his only listener. He’s singing Kiss me by Sixpence None The Richer, the lyrics seems to pull you into the moment. You let the music wash over you, a soft smile on your lips as you listen.

Drew walks back and sits next to you a few minutes later, and you frown at him, for leaving your side. “Where were you?”

“A fan recognized me,” he says, placing the bags next to him. Oh. It sounded like something Drew would do. Heck, you’ve seen him doing fan services, and he was very kind to fans (unlike you).

You turn to back to the singer, listening.

You and Drew sit together on the bench, listening to the man sing for a couple of more minutes. But it was so good, that you didn’t want to leave. So, you and Drew sat there for another hour, until he was finally done singing.

You clap when he’s done, and he bows to you. Drew claps as well, and you turn to him. “He’s great,” you compliment, truly impressed by his voice.

“I know. The best concert,” he gives you a soft smile. “You hungry?”

“Not really,” you say, feeling full from the snacks you had earlier. You look over your shoulder, at the setting sun. This was the first time you’ve found yourself finding sunsets beautiful. Then, you spot the beach, with a few people walking on it. “Hey, there’s a beach there.”

“You wanna go?”

You look at Drew, “yeah, that sounds great.”

——

The two of you walk side by side on the beach, you carrying your heels and Drew carrying his, along with other small bags of stuff. You don’t talk; simply enjoying the smell of the beach, the sound of the ocean, and the calm feeling.

It was dinner time, so the crowd that was here had left, leaving the beach to just you and Drew.

Drew doesn’t talk either; walking in silence with you.

You haven’t been to an actual beach in so long. The last time you put your feet in the sand was since… you can’t even remember.

But that’s the thing; you can’t remember. You can’t remember anything from your childhood, except for the torturing moments spent in rehab centers, the suffocating presence of the press, and the over-enthusiastic fans. The worst moments of your life, the ones that left the deepest marks, you recall with shocking clarity. Yet the good ones? Do they even exist?

Your gaze shifts to Drew, who’s walking beside you. He’s quiet, content with the walk, his eyes focused ahead, but there’s something about the way he’s there that makes your heart tighten. You think back to the first time you met him, and a pang of confusion hits you.

How did he even get into your trailer? How did the two of you even start talking? Was it the shoot that brought you together, or something else?

The MV. You remember flashes—distant moments where you two were thrown together, the cameras capturing your every move. But the interaction itself... it's all blurry. It’s like a haze, one that’s too fogged up to see clearly.

What even happened?

That realization hits you; like a stab to your chest.

You stop walking, and you feel tears slowly forming in your eyes.

At the same time, rain starts falling.

And a few seconds later, it’s pouring rain. But you don’t care. You’re too into this moment; the realization that you’ve been awake for so long.

Drew stops after a few steps, and he turns around to face you. When his eyes meet yours, the same sincerity you saw this morning, you couldn’t hold it in. The tears slowly fall, one by one.

“It’s raining-“

“I…I haven’t been sober for this long,” you start, your voice shaky as you say those words. You smile at Drew; the tears being covered by the pouring rain. “And…and I want to remember this moment.”

Drew walks over to you, and he drops his stuff on the sand. He stops in front of you, cupping your face as he tries to wipe the tears off your face with his thumb.

He smiles at you too; and for the first time, you don’t find his smile annoying. Instead, warmth erupts inside of you. You cry even harder. “Told you it felt nice, right?”

You chuckle, “But I’m serious. This…I went a whole day without drinking or smoking.”

He doesn’t say anything; continuing to wipe your tears away and looking deeply into your eyes. The rain gets in them; but he doesn’t care.

“And, and I want to remember this moment. This moment that I spent with you.”

Drew stays quiet for a few seconds, before saying, “Even if you forget; I’ll remember it for you.”

Then he adds, “I’ll be reminding you, over and over, over and over again."

You laugh at his response, finding it funny, and…sweet. Which is crazy, considering it’s Drew that’s saying it. “You’re annoying,” you lie, trying to push him away.

He chuckles too, his hand still cupping your face. “But it’s true. And I’m proud of you. You did it.”

“I did do it,” you murmur, looking at his blue eyes. “Thank you,” you add. You meant it. You meant every word you said earlier. You hope he knows it too.

And because this moment felt right, you hug him. You didn’t care how gross it felt to be hugging when your clothes are soaked. You just wrap your arms around his neck, hugging him tight.

He returns the hug after a reluctant pause, his arms wrapping tightly around you.

You bury yourself into him, breathing into his scent, and feeling the rain soaking into the both of you.

You also want to remember the feeling of hugging Drew. Not just in this moment, under the pouring rain, on the warm beach, and under the sunset. No, you just want to remember Drew. Drew, and how it feels to be hugging him.

Yeah, Drew’s warm hugs. That’s what you want to remember the most. That’s what you want to carry with you, like a secret tattoo burned deep into your memory, one that nothing can erase or alter, no matter how many times you forget everything else.

Because, in this moment, Drew’s hug is everything. And maybe that’s enough.

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word count: 2.8k

ִ ࣪𖤐 a/n: GUYS i got emotional writing this shit...goddamn it. hope you enjoyed this chapter, and ignore any mistakes i made (eng isn't my first language, probs should've mentioned it before). so...seems like theyre starting to like each other???

#drew starkey #drew starkey imagine #drew starkey x reader #fiction #fluff #angst #drew starkey x you #actor #actress #series #fake dating #enemies to lovers #flashing lights #chapter 7

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wcnderlnds · 3 days ago

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under the mistletoe | kit walker

CHRISTMAS ADVENT - DAY ONE

・❥・summary: kit tries to make christmas at briarcliffe a little more bearable.・❥・warnings: none!・❥・word count: 1k・❥・authors note: first christmas fic! i dont have specific days im gonna post these but hopefully at the very least every other day. you can be added to my taglist by filling this out!

Christmas at Briarcliffe was miserable to say the least. There was no festive spirit in the air, no decorations around the asylum minus a tree in the main foyer that the inmates barely got to see and a few string lights that had most of their bulbs broken. It was like they were trying to make everyone as miserable as possible. At this point it felt like happiness wasn’t even a real emotion anymore. The staff always made sure of that. A smile on someone’s face? No, they couldn’t have that. You had a theory that everyone who got hired was handed a rulebook with the number one rule to be to make sure everyone was as unhappy as they could possibly be. They were good at it, too.

The only sliver of light in this dark prison went by the name of Kit Walker. That very first day he had sat down next to you in the common room the two of you had clicked instantly. As soon as you’d seen those dark brown eyes, you knew there wasn’t a malicious bone in the man’s body. How anyone could believe he was the infamous Bloody Face remained a mystery to you. He was sweet, kind and he always protected you. In a place like Briarcliffe you needed someone watching out for you. He had your back and you had his. An unstoppable duo.

It wasn’t just friendship, though. The lingering touches, the stolen hugs meant there was so much more between you. Unfortunately, you couldn’t act on it. The staff were always watching. It was a risk even hugging — you had been caught one time, Kit had taken the blame and received punishment. That was just the type of person he was. Always making sure no harm came to you. Words had never been spoken of what lingered between you but they didn’t need to be. His eyes told you everything you needed to know.

“I don’t want to watch this stupid movie,” you grumbled, shifting in the hard wooden chair. It was movie night. Sister Jude had chosen the same movie - the only movie - she ever allowed anyone to watch. It was getting to the point where you could probably do a one man show of it.

”Me either,” Kit mumbled, leaning in close to whisper his next words in your ear. “Try to sneak out in about ten minutes. Got a surprise for you.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, the anticipation of what was to come coursing through your veins. What did he have planned? What could he even surprise you with in this place? Whatever it was, you knew you’d love it. If Kit had taken the time and the risk to do something for you then you knew it was special. As you sat there, your foot tapping on the ground impatiently, Kit got up from his seat. You watched from the corner of your eye as he spoke to the guard and was soon let out of the room. This must be the signal.

To make it less suspicious you waited a good few minutes before getting up yourself. Your hand wrapped around your stomach as you spoke to the guard that was on duty. All you had to say was you had cramps and no questions were asked; you were allowed to head to the bathroom. Now, where had Kit gone?

Walking the usual, familiar way to the bathroom, you almost shrieked when a hand grasped around your wrist and pulled you into an empty room. Kit’s hand covered your mouth just in case. Getting caught would ruin his whole surprise. “Hey, shush, suga’, it’s just me.”

The sound of his voice calmed you immediately. “Idiot, I thought someone was trying to kill me.”

Kit only grinned. The hand that was around your wrist slid down to your hand, his fingers interlacing with yours. No matter how many times he touched you, the electricity you felt at his skin on yours was still a surprise. Never in your life had you felt something like this for anyone. Is this what love was? Was it even possible to fall in love in this place? But, as Kit looked at you, you knew it was. You had fallen hard and fast for the beautiful man holding your hand. “Close your eyes.”

Your eyes fluttered shut, no questions asked. Trusting Kit was the easiest thing you could do. You heard the sound of rustling then felt Kit move a step closer. His next words were spoken quietly. “Open ‘em.”

As your eyes opened and acclimated to your surroundings again, your gaze flittered up to see Kit holding his arm above you, mistletoe hanging between you in his fingers. A small gasp passed your lips as you saw the fond smile on his face. “Kit… how did you….?”

”Saw some of the old boxes of decorations around when they were putting the tree out so did a little digging when nobody was looking and grabbed this. It’s not much but I remember you telling me how much you love Christmas and how unhappy you were about not feeling in the festive spirit. I had to do somethin.” His words hit you straight in the heart. It felt as if you could burst and at his next words, you were certain you were about to. “Besides, doll, I’ve been wanting to kiss you for a real long time. So, what’d you say? I’ve heard that it’s bad luck to not kiss under the mistletoe.”

”Well then, I don’t think either of us need any more bad luck,” you stepped up on your tiptoes, your lips inching forward. Kit closed the distance, his soft lips meeting yours. His hand wrapped around your waist, pulling you flush against his body. The mistletoe dropped to the floor as his over arm engulfed your back. Your arms rested around his neck, lips moving together in perfect sync. It felt like magic. Like this was all you needed to get your Christmas spirit back. Very, very reluctantly Kit pulled away. He admired your swollen lips and the reddening of your cheeks as his eyes found yours once again. “Merry Christmas, suga’. When we get out of here, I’ll give you the proper Christmas you deserve.”

taglist: @strawb3rrystar @marchsfreakshow @honeymoon8 @decaf-mother @ldydeath @mistysconcilium @xrag-dollx @bohnerrific69 @jazzy-reads @lacucarachapisser

#kit walker #kit walker x reader #kit walker x you #evan peters #american horror story #my fics #christmas advent

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irana5711 · 14 hours ago

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Hiii I just wanted to say from what i’ve seen I really love your work and I was wondering if I could get some smut for Mr.Stitch? Preferably descriptions of male genitalia,If not then that’s fine also!

Hihi! Thank you for sending in a request! I hope I understood your request well, so here we have it :3 I feel like this wasnt up to par, so feel free to leave feedback!

Mr. Stitch x m!reader (NSFW)

tw: mentions of those little ghostly hands in the lake scene (slight spoilers? maybe, idk if it counts)

After another earthquake that switched and destroyed multiple paths, it was obviously clear that the way you came from was now dust, and the only way forward was a small metal bridge that went over the patch of water which you already knew was full of ghostly hands, eager to grab and drown anyone who dared to go near. You loitered nearby the ruins of rooms that once were filled with various objects, when an idea struck you: if you could find a crack in any surface, Mr. Gap could take you away! It felt like a thousand years as you searched for a space big enough to fit you, but to no avail. You slumped against a heap of concrete when heavy knocking and thumping shook up the area. The voice leaking from the other side sounded familiar; so, pointing your dominant hand to the blockage, you blasted it away. Cowering in a corner, Mr. Stitch was shaking like a leaf.

"You good?" Your voice bounces off the walls as you speak, redirecting his attention towards you. A wide smile erupts on his face, and he throws himself in your arms.

"Thing fell my head, me sleep long! Me happy see you!"

...ah, something knocked him out. Explains why it was so quiet before. You reach out and rub his hair awkwardly in an attempt to comfort him. Having released him, you did your best to communicate with him and pointed towards the only available exit. His eye twitched, and he leaned down to take a good look at the water.

"Safe!" He exclaimed before strutting along the bridge. When he hands sprung out and dragged him down, you were quick to pull him back up, water splashing all over the place, the bridge now slippery and mostly unusable.

So, as a last resort, you and Mr. Stitch decided to wait until the bridge was dry again and then run over it as fast as possible. While you were sitting on the cold floor, the man wrapped his arms around your waist and nuzzled into your neck.

"Bored... Want fun?"

Lower and lower went his hand, slipping under your clothes, starting to tease your cock. His expression was unreadable, mainly because of the hair covering most of his face, but as he started to stroke faster, your mind went blank. The potent mix of frustration, arousal and weariness exploded inside of your body, making your back arch. Mr. Stitch seemed to enjoy seeing you weakened and at his mercy - while you were too stimulated to pay attention, he removed your clothes, and was now actively trying to loosen you up. In response, you collapse on him, your warm cheek resting against his icy chest. Showing no sign of stopping, the ghostly figure shoved two fingers inside of your mouth, poking and pulling the tongue that slithered around them. With a loud pop, he retracted and spat on them for good measure.

For a little while, he let go of your tormented cock and bent you over his lap. Precum pooled beneath your stomach, forming a small spot on the dirty floor. Your knees scraped against the rough material once Mr. Stitch moved you, his big hand now making contact with the sensitive flesh of your ass. An embarrassingly high-pitched squeal rips from your throat, making the other one laugh.

"Fun! You fun!"

You turn your head around quickly, glaring daggers at him. Mr. Stitch smirks, spanking you again with no remorse. Before you could punch him or squirm away, he inserts the two slimy fingers inside of you, relishing the way you reacted. With his free hand, he keeps you steady, as the other vigorously pumps in and out of your now sloppy hole. Your toes curl and your muscles tense, the sensation pulsing throughout your body. The strange man fucks you with his fingers harder and harder, the vibrations reaching your cock and acting as yet another stimulus. Suddenly, he shoves you down on your back, his head now between your thighs. He took your sensitive length in his mouth, sucking on it and teasing the tip with his tongue as he added a third finger. You grasped his hair and tugged on it harshly, unable to think whether you should push or pull him to you. You teetered on the brink of climax, your vision blurry as you clamped your thighs around his face and forced him to take your cum down his throat. Your legs fell limp at his sides, and he snapped his fingers in front of you to catch your attention. Mr. Stitch made a loud gulping noise and opened his mouth, winking at you.

"You tasty! Me good, see?"

You groan at the sight, dropping back to the floor. Your body was shaking due to the cold and the earlier activities, and a sudden clarity washed over you... Did you seriously just do that? With a mildly insane ghost? What is wrong with-

"Up!"

Mr. Stitch dragged you by your legs, turned you around and folded you into a pretzel, until your knees touched your shoulders, and his chest pressed up against your back. You were placed directly above his throbbing cock, a bulging, prominent vein running along his shaft catching your attention. The tall man licked your ear, eliciting a gasp out of you and a shudder. He lowered you onto him with a gentleness which was unusual for his character. As you peeked back at his face, you noticed it was scrunched up in a pleasured expression, eyebrows furrowed and lips shut tight. His cheeks were rosy and his forehead was stuck to the nape of your neck - it was weirdly endearing, seeing him like that. But your fascination didn't last long, the daydream interrupted by his thrusting. The first few movements were to test the waters, and you could hear him whispering "where" repeatedly, as if searching for something. It didn't feel bad, but it didn't feel amazing either, having something poke and prod at your insides. You held in your voice, sometimes breathing out tiny whimpers. It didn't take long for Mr. Stitch to find what he wanted, his feat signaled by a lewd scream coming from you.

"Here!"

He held your legs tighter, now using you like a toy as he bounced you up and down his hardened length. The animalistic pounding against your prostate fueled your arousal, Mr. Stitch's exaggerated moans right next to your ear doing anything but diminishing it. You'd never felt such sensations before, and you desperately tried to hold onto something - anything, your hands reaching back to scratch his waist. Inevitably, you were going to fall. In response, Mr. Stitch brought you closer to the wall separating your small area from the haunted waters. You leaned your arms against it, sliding down slowly as the ghost wrapped himself against your torso. He moved you once again, closer to the water, one of your feet resting on the bridge, the other on a small, dry space between the wall and the murky liquid. Mr. Stitch was now beneath you, thrusting wildly in your abused hole, until you stumbled backwards and relied on your arms for support. Transparent hands shot out from the waters, grabbing your cock and stroking it without mercy, focusing on the tip and the underside of the shaft. Mr. Stitch grabbed your nipples, tweaking and pinching them until they were bright red and aching, now hard and sensitive. Unable to hold it in any longer, you let your moans spill out as you came, milking the ghostly man for all he had. The hands coaxed you through your orgasm, and they would have continued if it wasn't for your partner dragging you away.

Your ears rang as Mr. Stitch dressed you up and threw you over his shoulder, patting your ass for good measure as he walked hastily along the bridge.

"You fun! We stay together!"

Something made you think that this wouldn't be the last time you see him. Just a hunch, though.

#homicipher smut #homicipher x you #homicipher #homicipher x reader #mr stitch #mr stitch homicipher #mr stitch x reader #mr stitch x you

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coqhee · 2 hours ago

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I LOVE YOU 3000 𓂃 엔하이픈 HYUNG LINE

✷ 𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝗁𝗒𝗎𝗇𝗀 𝗅𝗂𝗇𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖼𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝖺𝗒𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗆 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝗎𝗌𝖻𝖺𝗇𝖽

𝖽𝖺𝗒 4 𝗈𝖿 𝗆𝖾𝗅𝗈𝖽𝗂𝖾𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝗆𝖾𝗆𝗈𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗌 ― 𝖾𝗇𝗁𝗒𝗉𝖾𝗇 𝗁𝗒𝗎𝗇𝗀 𝗅𝗂𝗇𝖾﹒𝖿 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋﹒𝖿𝗅𝗎𝖿𝖿﹒537

─── ♡

LEE HEESEUNG

“really doll?” heeseung hums a slight smirk on his face, forming, as he turns to look down at you, comfortably slouched in his lap with his hand resting gently on your waist. you nod in response with a smile which brought a look of delight to his face. his smirk softens into something sweeter, his fingers lightly tracing circles on your side. “i think you’d make a great husband,” you continued, absentmindedly playing with the rings on his hand, taking a second to look up and find how his expression softened in your gaze. “id love to be your husband,” he smiles warmly, memorizing this moment for when he’d later propose. “i love you,”

other members under the cut!

─── ♡

PARK JONGSEONG

“yeah?” he raised his eyebrow at your request. you pouted in response, your eyes—soft, wide, and pleading—looking up at him like he held the world in his hands, because truly, he did. and it was you. "don’t look at me like that," jay groaned, pretending to be exasperated, though the grin tugging at the corners of his mouth betrayed him. "you know i can’t say no to that face,” his hand reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, then swiftly pressing his lips to your temple. “then don’t say no,” you teased back with a cheeky grin. “i'll marry you any time, any place,” he murmured, his tone softening.

─── ♡

SIM JAEYUN

“angel, i'm the one supposed to propose, not you,” he said, his voice low and warm, laced with teasing as his thumb brushed over your waist. “mm well i want now,” you mumbled with a sense of mock urgency. he laughed softly, the sound filling the quiet room like a melody you’d never tire of hearing. "so impatient," he mused, leaning back into the couch cushions with you still curled against him. "but you know what?" he tilted his head, his eyes locking with yours, and his tone shifted, growing serious. "hearing you say that… it’s all i’ve ever wanted.” he stood up from his position taking a twist tie from the cabinet of the shared apartment and twisted it into a ring as he bent down to one knee, taking your hand, “will you do the honor of marrying me,” you laughed and hit him playfully, and nodded with a grin.

─── ♡

PARK SUNGHOON

“are you serious?” he asked with a smile unfolding on his face. “i mean, you’re already acting like it so,” you quipped, leaning back into the cushions as you shot him a knowing look. he smirked, looking down at how delicate you looked in his arms, holding you gently. “how so?” he asked, already knowing the answer. “you basically live here hoon, your toothbrush is in my bathroom, basically all your clothes live here, you nag me to eat properly, the fridge is filled with the groceries you buy,” you trailed off. “okay okay, we’ll make it official, but give me time, no way this is how we get engaged pretty girl,” you hummed in content, tilting your head to rest against his shoulder, your lips curling into a soft smile.

─── ♡

a/n: happy day 4 of melodies to memories!! silly little cute one before we jump back into angst and situationships!! who fw them!? me!! all likes, comments, reblogs appreciated !

melodies to memories tl (open!): @pshwrldd @sainns @wonsdoll

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lxvemaze · 21 hours ago

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⫸ you know i love you

synopsis. when your best friend needs to show his parents that he's settled down enough for them to offer him a job in their company, he asks for your help- in the form of a fake engagement.

pairing. nonidol!/ceo's son!cha eunwoo x reader

genre. ceo's son au, childhood friends to lovers, fake relationship

wc. 10k!! (longest fic i've ever published, bear with me.)

warnings. some mild sexual references, some hurt lots of comfort, dongmin is silly, is jinwoo a wingman or a shit starter? we'll never know

a/n. this idea popped into my mind and i just loved it so much, i had to write it. happy holidays, ya'll!

January 15th

“There is no way in hell you’re actually that stupid.”

“I’m not stupid! You’re just not hearing me out!” Dongmin called out from the small couch in the living room of your sixth-floor studio apartment as you leaned against the counter in the kitchen, waiting for the water for your tea to boil.

You and Dongmin have been friends for over twenty years now. His father was the CEO of a huge company, his mother was the CFO of the same company, and your mother was their housekeeper. She was also basically Dongmin’s nanny, tutor, and personal chef. Starting from the age of six years old, your mother worked out a deal with Dongmin’s parents so that every day after school, their personal driver would pick Dongmin up from his fancy private school, then drive to your significantly less fancy public school, and then drive the two of you back to Dongmin’s house, where the two of you would hang out and do your homework while your mother took care of things around the house until Dongmin’s parents came home.

This routine lasted until the two of you graduated high school. Over the years, the two of you had become close as could be, even hanging out on the weekends. There was never room for any doubt in your friendship; even though Dongmin had gone to Oxford University in the UK, which was arguably the most extra school he’d gotten accepted into (you had begged him to go to Columbia University so you could visit New York), you stayed home and worked in your father’s little corner store. But even so, Dongmin traveled home for every long weekend, every holiday, and every vacation he had. And he spent all the time he was home with you.

You’d done a lot of dumb things to get each other out of a lot of sticky situations in the past, but what he was suggesting now was a new low.

“Well, I don’t really think getting married is the best course of action.” You mused as you poured the hot water into the two waiting mismatched coffee mugs.

“You’re not listening!” Dongmin exclaimed as he hopped over the back of the couch and strolled into the kitchen, leaning on the counter as he watched you steep the tea.

“Then explain to me how this is a good idea.”

“Because. I’m pushing thirty now-”

“You’re twenty seven.”

“Pushing thirty. And my folks want to retire soon, and my dad wants me to take his place, which is like, what I’ve been shooting for since I was a kid. But my mom is pushing back because she thinks I’m not mature enough. She says that she won’t even think about letting me join the company until I’ve shown that I’ve settled down.”

“You go to the club literally every weekend. I think I might be on your mom’s side on this one.” You handed Dongmin his mug of tea and strolled into the living room, settling down on the couch, and picking up the remote to browse for a movie to watch.

“Yeah, but if I stop going to the club for a while and make it look like I'm in a serious relationship, then my mom will see how mature I’ve gotten, and let me join the company!” Dongmin gleefully relayed his plan to you as he stole the blanket from your lap and wrapped it around himself, curling into the other corner of the couch.

“And you think that us getting married is your best bet?”

“Not married! Fake engaged. There’s a difference.”

“Let me reiterate; you really think getting fake engaged to me is the best idea?”

Dongmin turned to you, confusion written all over his face, “yeah? You’re like, my best friend.”

“Well, duh. I just think your mom would prefer it if you got engaged to like, another rich girl.”

Dongmin rolled his eyes and snatched the remote out of your hand, scrolling for a moment before pressing play on a random nature documentary. “I think my mom would see it as a win either way. She’s been on my ass to get into a serious relationship since I started university. Which is totally unfair, by the way! Jinwoo hasn’t had a date since middle school, and he’s already on track to be the COO at his dad’s company. And Myungjun’s had like, twelve relationships in the past year and a half, and his startup is already turning a massive profit.”

“Rich people problems.” You sighed, watching as a lion on TV devoured a gazelle.

“Yeah, it is. But I never ask you for anything. I think you owe me. And I can’t keep working at Minhyuk’s parents company forever. It’s getting kind of embarrassing.”

You remembered all the times that Dongmin paid to have you flown out to England, paid for you to stay in fancy hotels, car service, room service, treated you to extravagant meals, the tens of thousands of dollars worth of birthday and Christmas presents he’d bought you over the years. And you realize, he’s right. You do owe him.

“Okay…We need a plan.”

Dongmin practically jumped out of his seat at your sudden agreement. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah.” You sighed, reaching over to grab the remote, turning the TV down. “But we’re gonna need it to be airtight if we want this to be believable.”

“You’re the smart one. Just tell me what you need me to do, and I’ll do it.”

As you looked at Dongmin’s gleeful face, you almost regretted agreeing to his scheme. Dongmin saw the crease between your brows, and reached over to poke your shoulder.

“Hey, you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. I know it’s kind of a lot.”

You brushed him off with a shrug of your shoulder. “No, you’re right. I owe you. This is honestly the least I could do.”

“Then let’s do this.” He grinned, holding up his pinkie finger in front of you. You playfully rolled your eyes with a scoff before linking your pinkie in his.

“Let’s do it.”

January 18th

“No, that one’s not big enough.”

You sighed as Dongmin rejected yet another one of your suggestions. “I’m the one who has to wear it, why do you have such a strong opinion?”

“Because I’m the one buying it!”

You and Dongmin were currently at a swanky jewelry shop searching for the perfect engagement ring. At seven in the morning. On a Thursday. Neither of you were in a particularly good mood.

“Shouldn’t you want a smaller ring, then?” You questioned his logic, looking up at him with a cocked brow.

“Hey, only the best for my future wifey-poo.” Dongmin made a kissy face at you, causing you to audibly groan in disgust, pushing his face away. You ignored his giggles as you felt your phone buzz. You saw the most recent text was from your father, asking you to come into work early to help him open his corner store.

“Okay. Well, I have to go to work.”

“Nooooo! You can’t make me do this by myself! The dinner’s next weekend and we won’t have time to meet up again before then.” He protested, grabbing your arm and bouncing on the balls of his feet like a spoiled child- which he was.

“I would say I trust you, but I don’t. You know my ring size, I don’t want anything big, I don’t want anything gold, do not get me anything square cut, and for the love of God, please just ask the lady at the counter for help instead of just buying me the first thing you see that you don’t hate.” You patted his shoulder and made your way out the shop, waving a goodbye to him over your shoulder. You could see Dongmin’s downtrodden expression in the reflection on the glass door as you left. You just hoped he would get you something understated. You would be having to wear it every day for the foreseeable future.

You and Dongmin had spent nearly three hours the other night working out your plan.

Dongmin had invited his parents over for dinner at his swanky penthouse next Saturday night. He’d hired a fancy chef to make the dinner, and a decorator to make his apartment look not so “twenty seven year old single man-child”. After the main course and right before dessert, he would stand from his chair and announce that he had something important to say. Then, he would turn to you, get on one knee, and propose with whatever hopefully not-ugly ring he’d chosen today. To which his parents would hopefully be overjoyed and proud, and after at most a few months, they’d realize how mature he’d gotten since getting engaged, and give him the job in their company.

You weren’t sure it would work, you weren’t sure how long it would take, but you were determined to go through with it. After all the amazing opportunities and experiences that Dongmin had given you over the years, you figured that the least you could do was pretend to be his fiancee for a few months.

January 27th

Today was the day he would propose. You’ve never been this stressed in your entire life. A package had been delivered to your door with a note from Dongmin inside, “Blue has always been your color.” You had been staring at the dress in the box for the past ten minutes, trying to not think about how many thousands of dollars he’d spent on it. He was right, though. He’d taken you to Japan for spring break a few years ago and the two of you’d gotten a color palette analysis done. You’d have assumed he’d forgotten all about it, but the beautiful navy dress on your bed proved otherwise.

You looked at the time on your phone, the numbers 4:27 glared up at you, eliciting a sigh from your mouth. The weight of your actions was starting to weigh down on your shoulders. Why did you have to agree to this? It’s not like you didn’t like Dongmin’s family- they were fine! From the limited interactions you’d had with them over the years and from what Dongmin’s told you about them, they were perfectly nice people. But it was only natural for you to be a little bit intimidated by them. They were wealthy, powerful people, and you were about to get “engaged” to their son.

You got ready slowly, almost unconsciously dragging out the process as long as you could. Your phone rang right as you were slipping on the sleek black pumps Dongmin had bought for you last summer while he was vacationing in Paris.

“Yes?” You picked up the phone, looking at yourself in the mirror one last time before meeting your doom. You looked good. Hopefully good enough.

“I’m waiting in the car. Are you ready?” Dongmin’s pixelated voice rang out through the phone. You grabbed your purse, put on your coat, took a deep breath, and walked out your door.

“Yeah, I’ll be out in a minute.”

Without another word, Dongmin hung up the call. You scoffed and dumped your phone in your bag. You silently thanked whatever invisible force was on your side that day, as the elevator in your building that had been broken for the past two months had finally gotten fixed. You were not looking forward to walking down six flights of stairs in those heels.

As soon as you walked outside your building, you spotted Dongmin’s fancy black car. You couldn’t see him through the tinted windows, but you knew it was him when his driver stepped outside and walked around the car to open the back door for you. You slid into the backseat where Dongmin was playing a game on his phone. He looked up at you briefly, mumbling a “Hey”, and going back to staring at the screen.

You rolled your eyes at your iPad kid of a best friend and rested your head on the window as the car drove through the busy city streets.

Twenty minutes later, you pulled up to Dongmin’s penthouse. No matter how many times you’d been there, you would always be in awe at the massive building.

“You okay?” You turned to look at Dongmin as he spoke, meeting his eyes, seeing the concerned look on his face, you put on a smile, and lightly punched his shoulder as his driver opened the door.

“Of course. Not like I’m about to pretend to get engaged to my best friend in front of his family or anything.”

Dongmin didn’t look convinced as he took your hand in his before you had the chance to leave the car. “You know, it’s not too late to back out.”

His words didn’t do anything to quell the uncertainty in your stomach. But still, you put on a brave face and playfully rolled your eyes. “As if anyone else would be willing to get engaged to you.”

Your words seemed to sate Dongmin’s concern as he rolled his eyes in turn and shoved your arm, prompting you to step out of the car. You looked up at the tall building in front of you and took a shaky breath. It’s not like it was real. You didn’t actually have to get married to him or anything. It was all temporary.

“They’ll be here any minute. We should go up.” Dongmin’s warm breath on your ear caused you to jump, prompting him to flash you a confused look. You shook your head and followed him into the building, mentally hyping yourself up for the night that was to come.

“You look beautiful, darling.”

Dongmin’s parents had arrived ten minutes after you had, and you had been internally screaming the entire time since then. You were sat next to Dongmin at the table in his huge dining room with his mother sitting directly across from you.

“Ah, thank you so much. You know, Dongmin bought pretty much my entire outfit.” You replied, doing your best to keep your shaky hands still as you cut through your expensive steak. You could see Dongmin trying to hold in his laughter in the corner of your eye. Clearly seeing you in intense mental turmoil was funny to him.

“Oh, our Dongmin has always been such a thoughtful boy.”

Thoughtful. Hilarious.

“Yeah, he’s great.”

“So, dear, are you still working at your fathers shop?”

You took a sip of wine and wiped your fingers on your napkin. “Yeah, I am. But I’m planning on applying to some jobs in corporate. Even if just working in the mail room or reception.”

“Oh! Well, I’m sure we could find you a job somewhere in our company. I’m sure I know someone that could use a secretary or assistant.” Dongmin’s father spoke up, causing Dongmin to choke on his wine. You lightly patted his back as he coughed into his elbow, offering a tight-lipped smile to his confused parents.

“That’s very kind, but you really don’t have to do that.” You spoke over Dongmin’s coughing.

“We’d love to have you in our company, really. You and your parents are practically family.”

Dongmin took a deep breath as his coughing fit came to an end. “Are you guys for real?”

“Of course! Why wouldn’t we be?”

Dongmin stayed quiet for the rest of the main course, leaving you alone to continue awkwardly conversing with his parents, and ignoring every kick under the table that you gave him.

“So Dongmin, why did you set up this dinner, anyway?” Dongmin’s mother asked, leaning back in her chair as dessert was being made.

“Well…” Dongmin started. ‘Here we go’ you thought as your leg started shaking. “You know that the two of us have been friends for a long time.” He continued, taking your hand in his, looking at you with what anyone on the outside would see as fondness, but you knew from the look in his eyes that he was struggling to not burst out laughing.

“I hope this doesn’t come as a shock to you two, but we’re ready to take the next step…” Dongmin rose from his seat and pushed it to the side, immediately dropping to one knee in front of you. He softly spoke your name as he looked up at you. You could tell he was about to lose it.

You heard his mother gasp from the other side of the table as he continued, “You’ve been by my side for as long as I can remember. You’ve been my best friend, my partner in crime, and my biggest supporter. We’ve been through every step of our lives together. But I want to go through the next part of our lives…With you as my wife.”

If you didn’t know any better, you would have thought that his speech was very sweet. But you did know better. And now you were the one struggling to hold in your laughter.

Dongmin reached into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet box, “Will you marry me?” He opened the box and your jaw hit the ground. He did good. He did really good. The ring was exactly what you wanted. It was a small round cut diamond surrounded by smaller gems on a beautiful silver band.

You ecstatically nodded your head, holding out your hand for Dongmin to slip the ring onto your finger. The two of you stood up and hugged each other tightly. “I asked the lady at the counter.” He whispered in your ear. You giggled into his shoulder before his mother spoke up.

“Well, it’s about time!”

The smiles immediately dropped off of your faces.

…What?

The two of you pulled away from each other, slowly turning to look at his parents as they beamed at the two of you from across the table.

“The two of you have been attached at the hip since you were kids. It was only a matter of time.” His father agreed, holding his wife’s hand as the two of them looked up at you with an endearing gaze.

“...Huh?”

February 11th

“Oh yeah, my mom is throwing a valentine’s day party and she wants to know if you’re gonna be there.”

Dongmin was in your kitchen drying and putting away dishes as you washed them.

“Why would I be there?”

“...Because we’re engaged?”

“Oh, yeah.”

You hadn’t actually forgotten. You couldn’t now that your parents knew. As soon as your mother had shown up to work the day after the dinner, Dongmin’s mom was immediately gushing about the engagement that you had forgotten to let your mom in on. Your mom immediately called your dad to tell him about it, and then he immediately called you.

You couldn’t just tell them that it was a lie- they were just so happy about it, you didn’t have the heart to break it to them.

“I can’t just show up to my parents' valentine's party without my fiancée.” Dongmin whined as he put away your ancient cast-iron frying pan. You rolled your eyes behind his back.

“You don’t have to show up at all, actually.”

“Let’s be real for a second. There is no way that my mother will let me get out of going to one of her parties, and I really don’t want to go by myself.” Dongmin gave you his best puppy dog eyes, which caused you to physically hold yourself back from laughing in his face.

“Pleeeeease. I’ll buy you a new outfit for it. I swear to God, you’ll be the prettiest girl there. I’ll have to be constantly throwing hands to keep those gross corporate men’s hands off my gorgeous fiancée.”

“Whatever. I’ll go. You don’t have to buy me a new outfit.” You relented, drying off your hands before opening the fridge to grab a soda.

“You aren’t wearing your ring.”

You looked down at your left hand before looking back up at Dongmin, “Yeah. Our parents aren’t around, why would I?”

You didn’t see Dongmin’s pout as you flopped onto the couch, wrapping a blanket around yourself as you settled into the squishy furniture.

“Okay, but I spent a lot of money on that rock. Also, didn’t you say it put off that creepy guy who works at the coffee shop?” Dongmin hopped over the back of the couch to sit right next to you, wrapping his arm around your shoulder.

“Well, yeah. I wear it in public. But why would I wear it when I’m in the comfort of my own home?” You moved his arm from your shoulder, opting to ignore the disappointed sigh that came from your best friend.

“I’ll take you shopping for the party tomorrow. Get you a cute dress and shoes or whatever.”

“You don’t have to spend money on me, Dongmin.”

“I don’t care. I want to.”

You glanced at Dongmin to see him pouting with his hands in his lap, watching silently as you scrolled through Netflix instead of snatching the remote from your hands and picking a show like he usually would. You sighed and laid your head on his shoulder, feeling his breath stop for a second before he rested his head on top of your own.

Dongmin is your best friend. He’s helped you so much in so many ways, and you genuinely would do anything for him, and you think he’d do the same for you. Ever since you agreed to get fake engaged to him, there was a thought in the back of your mind; “What if this ruins our friendship?” You pushed it aside at first, brushing it off as a stupid anxiety-induced worry. But every day since then, the thought has only grown more and more prominent.

“I’m free after two.”

You could feel the smile in Dongmin’s cheeks and he wrapped his arm around you, holding you close as you finally settled on a movie.

God, you hoped you were wrong.

February 14th

“Keep your eyes closed!”

“They are closed.”

“You better not be peeping.”

“This may come as a shock to you, but I actually really do not want to see you naked!”

You were in Dongmin’s bedroom getting ready for his parents' valentine's day party. You’d have gotten ready at your own apartment, but Dongmin had called you over to help him decide on what to wear, so you decided to just bring your clothes with you and get ready there. Which was probably a good idea, because unlike your apartment, Dongmin’s penthouse actually had a full-length mirror and good lighting.

Dongmin had taken you shopping the day before, and despite your protesting, bought you an inordinately expensive, albeit beautiful, blush-pink dress, and a pair of white pumps. They were beautiful, and although you appreciated Dongmin being so willing to spend money on you, you hated knowing the actual number that he was spending.

“Okay, you can look now.”

You waited patiently for Dongmin’s response after he opened his eyes, but he just looked at you with a blank stare. You looked down at yourself, thinking you might have forgotten to zip a zipper, or your dress had gotten stuck somewhere.

“What?”

“No. Nothing. It looks good.” Dongmin cleared his throat and pulled his phone out of his pocket, quickly typing something before standing up and leaving the room. “You coming?” He called over his shoulder.

“...Okay…” You said under your breath, grabbing your phone from his vanity and following him out of the room. You felt Dongmin’s eyes on you as you put on your coat, looking up at him with a raised brow, he quickly turned away and busied himself with tying his shoes.

“Okay, let’s go.” Dongmin quickly hurried out the door, leaving you behind in a confused state. You shook your head before turning out the lights, setting the alarm system, and locking the door behind you.

You knew you were in for a long night.

“Well, aren’t you two just a beautiful couple!” Dongmin’s mother called the two of you out immediately as you walked through the doors to their impressive home. You were no stranger to the glamour and wealth of the Lee’s life, but it still threw you off to see so many beautiful, wealthy people all in one place.

“Thank you, Mrs. Lee.” She greeted you with a kiss on the cheek, and her son with a tight embrace. You looked around the room to see some vaguely familiar faces; you recognized Park Jinwoo’s parents conversing with Dongmin’s father, someone by the drinks table who you were pretty sure was named Yoon Sanha, and the three of Dongmin’s friends that you were actually on a first-name basis with, Bin, Myungjun, and Minhyuk, greeted the two of you with a wave from the other side of the room.

“Well, you two have fun! We have food, drinks, desserts, whatever you like!”

“Thanks, mom.” Dongmin took your hand and led you over to his friends, meanwhile, the sudden realization that you hadn’t seen any of these people since long before your fake engagement hit you like a ton of bricks. You could see them smirking at the two of you as you neared. Dongmin felt the shift in your demeanor and he turned to look at you, your face had paled as if all the blood had drained from your face.

“Just be chill.” He whispered to you as you neared the small group. You gave him a small nod, and quickly plastered a smile back onto your face.

“Hey guys how’s it-” Dongmin was cut off by Myungjun grabbing him by the shoulders and giving him a shake.

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell us that the two of you were even dating! And now you’re engaged!”

“Yeah, man. How could you not tell us?” Minhyuk added on as Bin shook his head in disappointment at the two of you.

“Believe me, it was a surprise for us, too.” You joked as Myungjun turned to you and wrapped his arms around you in a back-breaking hug.

“Well, I’m happy for you two. I think we were just all surprised it took you two this long.” Bin smiled at the two of you as he took a sip of his champagne. You and Dongmin briefly made eye contact before awkwardly smiling at the group.

“Yeah, that’s what everyone’s been saying.” Dongmin slipped his hand back into yours, giving it a gentle squeeze. You gave him a small smile, trying to give off the best “head-over-heels in love” vibe that you could. You weren’t sure how convincing you were being, but Dongmin always was a good actor. He’d make it work.

At some point in the party, you’d ended up at the drinks table, a champagne flute in your hand as you leaned against the wall, trying to recharge from being bombarded with questions and congratulations from people you’d never met. You weren’t sure where Dongmin had ended up- the last you saw, he’d been taken aside by Minhyuk’s father to talk about some business stuff that you didn’t understand nor particularly care about.

You were content with standing in the corner people-watching before someone you hadn’t spoken to for years sidled up to you.

“Well, don’t you look nice?”

You froze in place when you heard the voice of Park Jinwoo addressing you. You slowly turned your head in his direction. Shit. He looked really good. You’d had a little bit of a crush- no, you’d had a massive crush on him while you were in highschool. He was one of Dongmin’s closest friends back in the day, but you’d only seen him a few times since he’d gotten back from university. You thought he was really cute back then, but he’d really grown into his looks. He’d gotten a little bit taller (at least, he was a little bit taller than you, now), he’d gotten a nice haircut, you could tell he’s been hitting the gym, and from your many late nights staying up late stalking his Instagram, you knew that he’d gotten a few tattoos. And he’s single.

“Oh…Hey, Jinwoo. Nice to see you again.”

“No need to be so formal. We’ve known each other a long time.” Jinwoo stood next to you and leaned on the wall, mirroring your stance. “Congrats on the engagement by the way. Didn’t see that one coming.”

“Really?” You scoffed, taking a sip of champagne, “seems like you’re the only one who didn’t.”

“Yeah, well, I was under the impression that you were into someone else until now.”

His statement caused you to choke on your champagne. You cleared your throat and shook your head. Jinwoo stayed silent, simply smirking at you as he took a sip of wine. “Well, I guess you were wrong.”

“Guess so. It’s funny, I was so sure I was right. I mean, it’s not every day someone you haven’t spoken to in years likes one of your four-year-old Instagram posts at three in the morning.”

You were about to refute his accusation before you were cut off by a very welcome interruption. “You two enjoying yourselves?” Dongmin approached the two of you, a glass of champagne in hand, and an indecipherable look on his face. He stood right beside you, wrapping his arm around your waist, staring directly at Jinwoo.

“Just fine.” Jinwoo replied with the same smirk as before, taking a sip of wine as he eyed Dongmin. “You two look good together.”

“Yeah. We do.”

The vibe of the room had massively shifted since Dongmin had approached you two. His hand had moved down from your waist to your hip, and he was holding you tighter than ever. Your eyes darted between Jinwoo and Dongmin, waiting for one of them to say something, but they both remained quiet, their eye contact unwavering.

“Well, I’m happy for you two. See you at the wedding.” Jinwoo gave you a quick wink before flashing Dongmin a smirk and walking off into the crowd. You looked up at Dongmin who still had that look on his face. You’d never seen that look before.

“Let’s go.” He said, grabbing your hand and walking in the direction of the front door.

“Go where?”

“Home.”

“Whose home?”

“Mine.”

“Why?”

“I don’t want to be here.”

“Okay…But maybe we should say goodbye to your parents and friends first?”

Dongmin paused in his tracks, you could see him roll his eyes before nodding in agreement. He dragged you around the house to bid quick goodbyes to his family and friends before he walked the two of you to the foyer, helping you with your coat, and dragging you into his car. He’d driven the two of you there himself, and you were honestly worried that in his current mood, the night was going to end up with the two of you crashing into a tree.

You stayed silent for the first few minutes of the trip, your hands folded in your lap. You’d rarely seen Dongmin so irritated- his hands were tightly gripping the steering feel, and you could practically hear his jaw clenching. You felt like a scolded child the way you were so hesitant to say anything to him.

“Are you okay?”

Dongmin sighed heavily. Glancing over at you, his demeanor melting as he saw you staring at him with that concerned look on your face. His grip on the steering wheel relaxed, and he reached over to hold your left hand in his own, his thumb lightly brushing over your ring finger.

“I’m okay. Just tired, I guess.”

The two of you stayed silent for the rest of the drive to Dongmin’s penthouse. The car was filled with a tense air, even as Dongmin gently held your hand, you couldn’t help but feel you’d done something wrong.

The two of you made your way up to Dongmin’s apartment, turning off the alarm and kicking your shoes off as soon as you were in the door. Without a word, Dongmin went straight to his bedroom, leaving you sighing as you made your way to the guest room. Usually your apartment was the designated hangout spot, Dongmin always said it was more “cozy”, but you’d still stayed over at Dongmin’s enough for you to have a drawer of clothes in his guest room and a toothbrush in the bathroom.

You had been laying in bed for at least an hour at that point. You’d tried to sleep, you really had, but you couldn’t stop thinking about what you could have possibly said to make Dongmin act the way he did. So you resorted to scrolling on your phone to calm your mind, before you heard a light knock on the bedroom door.

You padded over to it, cracking it open to see Dongmin on the other side, nervously shifting his weight between his feet.

“Hey…” He whispered, leaning on the doorway as he looked around the room, doing all he could to not make direct eye contact with you. “I…I guess I wanted to apologize for being a total dickhead tonight.”

“Yeah…You kinda were.”

He smiled at the ground, his eyes still not meeting yours. “Well, I’m sorry. I just…I don’t know. I don’t really have an excuse.”

His eyes finally met yours.

“Are we cool?”

You let out a short laugh and rolled your eyes, poking his arm before responding, “we were always cool.”

He smiled fondly down at you, reaching his arms out, prompting you to lean into him and wrap your arms around his waist, your head comfortably resting on his chest. The two of you stood silently for a minute, his head resting on top of yours. Before pulling away, he gave you a quick peck on top of your head, flashing you a quick smile before taking a step back.

“Goodnight, fiancée.”

“Goodnight, fiance.”

You were friends. Best friends. You always would be. But you were starting to like hearing him call you that.

June 20th

You thought it would be over by now. You thought it would’ve been a few months, a couple family dinners, maybe a fancy corporate party or two, Dongmin’s parents would give him a job in the company, and you could call off your engagement and go back to your normal lives. And yet here you were, six months later. Still engaged- fake engaged. Every time you got together with Dongmin’s family, he’d whisper to you, “I’m sure they’re gonna give the news tonight.” and yet, they never did. And both of your families and all of your friends were still convinced that the two of you were a happy soon-to-be-wed couple. His parents had even spent Easter at your family’s house. It was starting to feel too real.

And now here you were, sitting in a private plane, getting ready to embark on an all expenses paid two week long vacation to Lake Como- where the Lee family apparently owned a large plot of property. Because of course they did. You hadn’t ever realized exactly how wealthy Dongmin’s family was until you’d gotten engaged to him, and you felt more insecure in your own life by the day because of it.

“You want some more champagne?” At the question, you removed one of your earbuds and looked up from the book in your lap to Dongmin, who was sitting across from you, headphones on with his iPad resting on top of the table between the two of you. You shook your head wordlessly, putting the earbud back in place and returning to the book that you honestly couldn’t have relayed the plot of even with a gun to your head.

Planes are so boring.

Dongmin smirked up at you as if he could tell what was on your mind. “Told you you should have brought your laptop.”

“Shut up.” You muttered, flipping to the next page as if you were actually reading. “Why would I want to bring my laptop when I’m going to Italy? I don’t know about you, but I’m intending to actually enjoy myself while we’re there.”

“I don’t think Dongmin could enjoy himself without bringing his iPad.” His younger brother piped up from the seat across the aisle.

“You’re literally playing Roblox right now.” Dongmin rolled his eyes as he removed his headphones.

“You cannot stop me from grinding on Dress To Impress.”

“You’re like, twenty five.”

“Yeah, and I’m absolutely eating these little kids up.”

“That’s a disturbing sentence.”

“You’re making it weird.”

“Back me up here.” Dongmin addressed you, taking his headphones off and tossing them to the side.

You stuck your tongue out at him before tossing your book in the same direction as his headphones- you’d finally given up on trying to read.

“You’re the worst.” Dongmin sighed.

“You like it.”

“I don’t get you two.”

The two of you quickly turned to Dongmin’s brother, who was still staring at his computer screen, undoubtedly still beefing with middle schoolers on Roblox.

“What do you mean?” Your voice cracked slightly as you asked the question. You could see Dongmin grimacing at it from across the table.

“I mean, you two have been together for like, years at this point. But I’ve never even seen you two kiss.”

“Years-? I mean, yeah. But what’s your point?” Dongmin stumbled over his words, crossing both his legs and arms in a painfully conspicuous fashion.

“I don’t know, it’s just weird. Are you two on some like, hardcore, celibate, not even kissing until you get married shit? I find that hard to believe since you’re like, always at each other's apartments- also like, why don’t you two just move in together? I’ve been to both of your guys’ places, and Dongmin’s is like, way nicer. I don’t know, you guys just aren’t like, a normal couple.”

You were in shock at how hard Dongmin’s brother clocked you. You hadn’t thought of any of that. Why the hell wouldn’t you two have kissed? Normal engaged people kiss. The two of you had never even had your mouths anywhere near each other.

“I’m sorry I haven’t ever made out with my fiancée in front of my little brother. That’s not something I’m into.” Dongmin mused as he picked up his headphones from the floor of the plane, placing them back over his head and resuming his show. You let out a silent sigh of relief at his smooth recovery.

This was going to become a problem.

June 25th

You hadn't realized that mega yachts were a real thing until this morning when you and the Lee’s packed into the fancy black car that picked you up at their summer home and brought you to the lake, where you were met with the largest boat you’d ever laid eyes on.

After being “confronted” about your strange relationship by Dongmin’s brother on the plane, that same night, you and Dongmin stayed up late in your shared room discussing ways to make your relationship seem more natural.

“Well, we can’t just like, make out in front of your family.” You mused from your side of the ginormous bed in the room that had been assigned to you and Dongmin.

“Normal people don’t make out with each other in front of their families, I don’t think.” He agreed from his side of the bed, “But maybe, we could just like, I don’t know, maybe give each other a little peck on the cheek once in a while. Or call each other stupid pet names like ‘babe’ or ‘sweet cheeks’.”

“If you call me sweet cheeks, I will kill you.”

“No sweet cheeks, then.” Dongmin tossed his phone across the bed and turned to look at you, propping himself up on his elbow. You turned to him with a raised brow, tossing your phone in the same direction.

“What?”

“This is fun.” He smiled up at you, twirling a loose string on the blanket around his finger.

“Is it really?”

“Yeah.” He whispered before turning his back to you and flicking the “off” switch on the lamp on his bedside table. You settled into your pillows and breathed out a heavy sigh. You were having much less fun with this than Dongmin was.

You were currently laying down in a lounge chair on the bow of the yacht in your swimsuit, pretending to watch Dongmin as he repeatedly jumped off the side of the boat and clambered back up, asking you each time to rate his jump and the following splash. Dongmin’s brother was in the chair beside you, arm over his eyes, probably taking a nap. You were going to have to wake him up soon to tell him to reapply his sunscreen.

“Babe, watch this!” Dongmin called out to you, prompting you to look over to him, your hand shielding the sun from your eyes so you could see your fiance’s grinning face as he took a few steps back, dripping water onto the freshly mopped floor. He ran forward and jumped off the boat once again, you could see him lurch forward right before he leapt in what you were sure was a poorly executed attempt at a front-flip.

You grimaced as you heard the splash- you had a feeling that he’d landed face-first. Your suspicions were confirmed as you heard coughing as Dongmin climbed up the side of the boat. As soon as he made it back onto the bow, he walked over to where you were laying, and sat down on the ground next to your chair, laying his head on top of your bare thigh. You patted his back as he continued coughing weakly- trying your hardest to keep from laughing at your friend.

“That was great. Ten out of ten.”

He looked back up at you, a look of pure disdain on his face. “I hate you so much.”

You giggled and ran your hands through his hair. He rolled his eyes at you as he rested his chin on your thigh, closing his eyes as you continued running your fingers through his hair, nails scratching his scalp in a soothing manner. You were worried that you were laying on the “head-over-heels in love” thing too thick, but your worries were immediately quelled as Dongmin’s mother entered the scene.

“You two are just so sweet.” She giggled as she approached you, tightly gripping her full glass of champagne.

“They’re disgusting.” Dongmin’s brother protested from his spot, finally waking up from his nap.

“You’re just jealous.” Dongmin teased, discreetly flipping his brother off as his mother settled into her seat on the younger brother’s opposite side.

“You two have been all up in each other’s business since we landed. Is that Italian air really getting to you guys that much? My room’s right next to yours, I’m just glad you two are quiet when you bang.”

You were so sure he was onto you.

“You poor thing.” Dongmin mused as he wrapped his arms around your leg, “You’ll understand when you’re older.”

His brother simply rolled his eyes and laid back down, placing his arm back over his eyes. You turned back to Dongmin, who was already looking up at you with a lazy smile. You hated these moments. The moments that made this whole thing feel like a part of it was real. Because why were you here on a yacht in Italy with his family, with his head on your thigh, and a ring on your finger if no part of it was real?

“I’ll be right back, baby.” Dongmin whispered as he stood up. He leaned over and gently put his hand on the side of your face, giving a short, sweet kiss to your forehead before going inside.

You watched as he walked back inside, trying not to lose your mind as you heard his mother drunkenly giggling from behind you.

God, you hated this.

July 5th

It was the night before the end of your vacation in Italy, and you just couldn’t wait to go home.

Sharing a bed with Dongmin every night of the past two weeks had been nothing short of torture. It wasn’t like he’d been all up in your space, and he didn’t snore- actually, he was very quiet and very respectful of the invisible line that you’d drawn in the middle of the bed, sticking exclusively to his side, and keeping all of his clothes on- despite the fact that you knew he usually slept in just his underwear.

But you often found yourself awake into the early hours of the morning just staring at his back, trying to push the random romantic scenarios about your best friend that your brain was making up into the back of your mind. You told yourself that it was all just because of the atmosphere. I mean, what else are you supposed to think when you’re sharing a bed in a romantic villa in Italy? You were just excited to go back home and sleep in your own bed. Alone.

But here you were, sitting out on the balcony that was attached to your room, glass of red wine in hand as you listened to Dongmin ramble on about something that you couldn’t pay attention to- not while the moon was out in full and it just lit up his features so beautifully.

“You know what I’m talking about?” Dongmin turned to you, his eyes scanning over your face that was undoubtedly just staring up at him blankly.

“Not really.” You hummed taking a big sip of your wine, your eyes met his and you immediately looked away, opting to stare out into the beautiful Italian nature instead of at your beautiful best friend’s face.

“You okay?” Dongmin asked softly, nudging your arm much softer than he usually would.

You took an even bigger sip of wine. “I’ll be okay. Just ready to go home, I guess.”

“Yeah…” He sighed, his eyes still on you. “It’s getting pretty late. You ready to go to bed?”

You were going to miss him saying that.

“Yeah.”

You got ready for bed as slowly as possible, dragging the process out as long as you could. You could feel Dongmin’s eyes on you as you slowly brushed your teeth, and again as you were brushing your hair, and again as you exited the bathroom after getting into your pajamas, and again as you climbed into bed.

The two of you laid there in silence in the dark until, simultaneously, you turned to each other. As soon as your eyes met each other, you could feel your eyes welling up. You didn’t want this to be over.

“You sure you’re okay?” Dongmin whispered, shuffling a little bit closer to you. In the moonlight peeking through the curtains, you could see the worried look in his eyes. You nodded quickly, staying still as he reached out to brush your hair out of your face. His fingers lingered over your jawline, causing goosebumps to raise on your skin. “You know, I’m really glad that you were able to come on this trip. I think I’d have gone insane without you here.”

“Yeah?” You whispered back, the feeling of his fingers on your jaw causing your mind to struggle to come up with a witty reply.

“Yeah.” He breathed out, moving his hand to stroke his thumb across your cheekbone, brushing away the tear that you hadn’t realized had fallen. “You’re the best fake fiancée I’ve ever had.”

Right. Fake.

“High praise.” You joked, causing Dongmin to flash you a grin that made your heart ache. You loved his smile.

“I love you, you know? You’re my best friend.”

Friend. Friend. You needed to hammer that word into your mind.

“I love you too, Dongmin.”

He ran his thumb over your cheek one last time before leaning forward to press a kiss to the tip of your nose, bidding you a goodnight, and turning back around- leaving you laying there, staring blankly at his back

You were so screwed.

December 21st

Eleven months. Eleven. Months.

You’d been engaged to your best friend for almost an entire year.

After your trip to Lake Como, things started to become more complicated. Dongmin’s parents had started asking the two of you to set a date and start looking at venues, menus, dresses, suits, flowers, honeymoon destinations, guest lists- you name it. Your acting in Italy had apparently shown them how “in love” you were with each other, and they were eager for the two of you to finally tie the knot. You had been holding them off by telling them that you wanted to wait until the new year for all of that, but they, especially his mother, were all too ready to get involved in the wedding planning.

You’d started hating being engaged to Dongmin. Every time the two of you were alone together, it just reminded you of your last night in Italy. The way he held your face so gently, and the way he wiped away your tear was constantly on your mind.

But you doubted he even noticed the tense air whenever the two of you met up, as he had been sulking since the end of the summer over the fact that his parents still hadn’t offered him a job yet.

But today was the day of his parents Christmas party, and he was so sure that they would offer it to him tonight. You had your doubts.

The two of you were getting ready in Dongmin’s apartment as you usually did for his parents' parties. You were wearing a beautiful forest green satin dress that you'd gotten as a bridesmaid for an old friend, and the same heels that you’d worn when Dongmin had proposed to you almost a year ago. You were waiting in the foyer for Dongmin to come out of his room, tapping your foot as the seconds ticked by.

“Alright, you ready to go?” He asked in a jovial tone as he entered the room, fixing the cuffs of his suit jacket. He looked up at you in anticipation and stopped in his tracks, his hand freezing on his sleeve as his eyes wandered over your form.

You stood there silently for a good few seconds, waiting for him to say something. But he didn’t. “...Yeah?”

His eyes snapped up to your face and he slightly shook his head, dropping his hands from his sleeve. “Right! Okay, let’s go, then.”

He hurriedly turned off the lights and set the alarm before helping you with your jacket, and offering his elbow to you. You gave him a suspicious glare, but he just grinned at you, guiding you downstairs to where his driver was waiting.

You were drunk. But you felt the need to be even drunker. The two of you had been at the party for around an hour when Dongmin’s father tapped the side of his champagne glass and made an announcement: He was finally letting Dongmin into the company. At first, you turned to Dongmin ecstatically, pressing a firm kiss to his cheek and hugging him tightly. He’d wanted this for so long.

But then you remembered.

It was over now.

You and Dongmin had agreed in the beginning that you would be engaged only until his parents offered him a job at their company. You’d agreed to this. You knew this was coming. So why were you sitting in an empty room crying into your champagne?

You didn’t look up as you heard the door open, you were assuming that it was a drunk couple looking for some privacy until you heard a familiar voice speak up.

“Any particular reason you’re sitting alone crying into your champagne?” None other than Park Jinwoo asked as he sidled into the room, his hands tucked into the pockets of his beautifully fitting dark blue suit.

You tearfully chuckled, wiping the tears from your cheeks. “You know, I was just asking myself that question.” You looked up at Jinwoo who was leaning on his shoulder against an ornate bookshelf, looking down on you with a placid look on his face.

“Trouble in paradise?” He mused as he dragged his finger down the spine of one of the books.

You scoffed at him, leaning back in your chair as you downed the rest of your champagne in one gulp. “Something like that.”

“That’s a shame…He’s been head over heels for you since high school, so I can’t imagine what could have happened.”

Your eyes snapped up to him, he looked back down at you with a knowing smirk. “What do you mean by that, Jinwoo?”

He shrugged his shoulders casually, as if to brush off your question. “I don’t know. What do you think it means?”

“I’m so not in the mood for your bullshit.”

“Fair enough. Should probably be getting back to the party anyway.” He offered a hand to you which you rolled your eyes at before taking, allowing him to help you out of your chair. “You’d better get back to your fiance. It’s not a good idea for a pretty girl to be drunk and alone at a party.”

Jinwoo didn’t let go of your hand until the two of you were out in the hallway. He gave you a one-armed hug, smirking into your ear, “well, speak of the devil.”

You turned to see Dongmin standing at the other end of the hall, staring at the two of you, an undoubtedly shocked expression casted over his face.

“See you later.” Jinwoo turned and gave you a wave over his shoulder, leaving you standing in the hallway, swaying slightly. You shouldn’t have chugged that glass of champagne. But as soon as you started to feel a little too dizzy, Dongmin was by your side, his steady hands holding onto your waist.

You leaned into him with a deep sigh, wrapping your arms around his neck. As soon as the side of your face made contact with his chest, you felt your eyes welling up. He gently stroked the back of your head, confused at your demeanor, but wanting to offer whatever comfort he could nonetheless.

He pressed his lips to the top of your head, gently rubbing his nose into your hair. “What’s wrong, baby?”

You choked back a sob as you pressed your face into his chest even harder. “Please don’t call me that.”

His hand went still on the back of your head. “Why?”

You took a shaky breath, bringing your hands to his back, gripping into his suit jacket. “Cause it’s over now. Right?”

Dongmin stayed silent, opting to continue gently stroking your hair instead of responding, letting you cry off your makeup into his expensive suit.

“I think I should take you home.” He said to you softly, gently unwrapping your arms from around his body. You sniffled and feebly attempted to wipe away the tears from your face, not daring to look Dongmin in the eye. You nodded at the ground and allowed him to guide you to the front door and help you put on your coat.

“Stay here for a second. I’m gonna go say goodbye to my parents.” You nodded gently, staring down at your shoes. You’ve never felt so pathetic in your life.

Dongmin returned a minute later, gently taking your hand and leading you to the car. The two of you sat in silence, Dongmin running his thumb over your knuckles, and you, staring out the window, not even bothering to wipe the tears that were running down your face.

You knew it had to come to an end eventually. You always did. But it still hurt.

The car pulled up to Dongmin’s penthouse, and you mindlessly let Dongmin lead you up to his apartment. Your brain was practically dead at that point. He could have been taking you to an old abandoned house to murder you and you wouldn’t have noticed, nor would you have particularly cared.

You let him help you take off your jacket and heels and lead you to his room. He motioned for you to sit down on his bed, which you did, flopping onto it, laying flat on your back, folding your hands over your stomach in an attempt to soothe its churning. Dongmin sighed as he watched you lay down, taking off his suit jacket, shoes, and tie, and sitting down next to you.

“Do you want the ring back?” Your voice cracked as you asked the question, your eyes threatening to shed even more tears. Dongmin sighed as he leaned back, laying down next to you.

“No. I bought it for you.”

Your lips trembled at his words, you quickly wiped away the tears that had started to spill. “I don’t want this to be over.” You finally choked out, your hand covering your mouth to stifle your sobs.

“I know.” Dongmin replied gently, reaching over to wrap his arm under you, prompting you to roll over and dig your face into his chest. “It’s okay.” He whispered as you cried into him. “You’re just drunk. You’ll feel better tomorrow.”

“No, I won’t.”

“You’ll be okay.”

“No, I won’t.”

“Why do you think that?”

“Because I don’t want to lose you.”

Dongmin held you tighter at those words, his brow furrowing as you said it. “You’re not going to lose me, baby.”

“I just want to stay with you.”

“We’ll always be together.”

“It’s going to be different now.” Your tear ducts had finally run dry. You just felt defeated now. Dongmin still held you just as tight as before, one hand on your waist and the other on the back of your head.

“It doesn’t have to be.”

“Yes, it does.”

This time it was Dongmin’s turn to cry. Yet, he smiled. “I love you.”

“God, don’t say that to me.” You sighed into his neck, rubbing your sore eyes as tears continued to run down Dongmin’s face.

“No, but it’s true. I love you so much.”

You pulled away, he was starting to confuse you. You propped yourself up on your elbow to get a better look at him. Your confusion grew as you saw him smiling up at you through his tears. “What are you talking about?”

Dongmin leaned up and reached for your face, holding it in the same way he had during that night in Italy, his fingers on your jawline and his thumb stroking your cheek. “I don’t want this to be over, either.”

“...Are you drunk?”

He grinned up at you and brought his other hand to your cheek, looking at you with a kind of fondness you’d never seen on his face before. “Definitely not. I just love you.”

“Dongmin, what are you saying?”

“I’m saying I love you.”

“Yeah, you’ve said that a few times.” You replied, sitting up fully, Dongmin following you, still holding your face. “But what do you mean?”

Dongmin gently smiled down at you, one of his hands trailing down from your face to take your left hand, gently sliding the ring off your finger. Your heart dropped as he did so, tears once more threatening to start spilling from your eyes.

“Will you marry me?”

Your breath hitched in your throat, you completely froze in place as Dongmin slid off the bed and onto the floor, kneeling in front of you, still holding your left hand in his gentle grip.

“..Huh?”

He chuckled at you fondly, his eyes filled with nothing but adoration, and love spread across his face.

“I want to marry you. For real.” His eyes and smile softened as you stared down at him in shock, “At the start of this, I really did just see this me asking you for a favor. I really thought that at the end of this, we would call off the engagement, and go about our lives as normal. I didn’t expect this to go on this long, and I never expected to realize that I was in love with my best friend, but I did. I think I realized it for the first time in Italy. I loved going to sleep next to you every night and waking up next to you every morning, I loved seeing you with my parents and my brother, I loved sitting on the balcony drinking wine with you, I just loved spending every minute of every day with you. And it made me realize that I love you. As more than a friend. And I think I always have.”

He shifted in his spot on the floor, nervously looking up at your confused stare. He really hoped he wasn’t making a mistake by telling you right now.

“It made me realize that I wished this was for real. So, do you want to make it real?”

Just as he was starting to think that he was making a massive mistake by confessing his love to his best friend, you quickly slid off the bed onto the floor, and hugged him tightly, causing him to fall backwards onto the carpet.

“God, I love you so much.” You whispered into his neck, holding him tighter than you’d ever held anyone. He was smiling so hard, he was sure his face could have gotten stuck that way. He hugged you back just as tightly before pulling back and grabbing your face, causing your eyes to meet his.

“So is that a yes?”

“Obviously. Yes!”

Dongmin grabbed your left hand, sliding the ring back onto your finger before his hands quickly went up to the sides of your face and his lips collided with yours. Your hands gripped the back of his shirt as your lips moved against his, fighting back the happy tears that welled in your eyes.

Dongmin pulled back for breath, breathing heavily as he leaned his forehead against yours. He opened his eyes and met yours, “I love you.”

“I know.”

the two of you giggled quietly before your lips met again.

December 22nd

You woke the next morning in Dongmin’s bed, your dress and his suit lay wrinkled on the floor. You groaned into the pillow and turned to your side, almost jumping as you were met with the face of your fiance sleeping soundly next to you.

You smiled softly, brushing his soft hair out of his face, admiring his features in the early morning light.

His eyes fluttered open slowly, reaching up in confusion to grab your hand that was lightly grazing his face. He smiled warmly and leaned into your hand as soon as he realized it was you. “Good morning.” He groaned, his deep morning voice causing your stomach to flutter.

“Good morning.” You replied gently, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. He looked up at you softly, pressing a kiss to the palm of your hand before slowly sitting up and tossing back the blankets.

“How about I make us some pancakes?” He called over his shoulder as he made his way to the bathroom.

“Sounds good.” You stretched and sat up as Dongmin turned on the shower in the other room.

“You coming?” He called out, you smiled and shimmied out from the blankets, your feet meeting the soft carpet on the floor.

“Just a second!”

You could get used to this.

21 notes · View notes

rini-rushed · 1 day ago

Text

hostility vs. hospitality.

☆ sae x gn! reader sfw

★ i’m so fucking irritated for NO REASON. so im writing this on my phone to cope (that’s why it’s not in my usual format and probably not as well written as my other works)

it’s impossible to not notice your attitude.

sae has been silently observing you for a few hours now, ever since you’ve gotten home from your classes, you’ve been drowning in this gloomy energy.

your eyebrows aren’t furrowed, but they r sure as hell aren’t relaxed, you’re leg bumps around with more ferocity when you sit in a chair, eating your dinner with a sulking expression.

thumping your feet against the floor a bit louder as you traversed throughout the shared space. you held that look in your eyes, your stare that would bulldoze through walls if you wanted to.

you even watched a movie, on a monday night no less, and yet, you were acting so incredibly pissy.

his usual little bubbles of speech would be slapped and snapped back with sarcasm and cynicism.

“fuck off.”

“who cares about that?”

“no one wants to hear about that.”

your negativity was a poison, and you were lathering the sick liquid everywhere with each step and touch you took.

“i’m fucking fine.”

it was at this point 10pm, you were all ready for bed, yet you kept bouncing between rooms, blasting different music on your computer, phone, headphones, earbuds.

pop, rock, classical, nostalgic, trendy, electronic. everything.

thank god your computer is off and charging, sae couldn’t stand more of your musical stupidity.

it was when you’re laying on the couch with this moody expression plastered on your face, that sae finally confronts you with your shitty attitude.

because mind you, you guys lived in the same space, and this fucking attitude of yours started out as annoying to flat out disrespectful.

he took a step near you, seeing your half angry half tired expression, he doesn’t even sigh out loud as he approaches and sits on the couch as well.

“what the fuck is up with you today.”

unlike his passive words before this, in classic itoshi style, sae slams down his metaphorical hand onto the table, now the ball is in your court.

“nothing.”

“do you think i’m some sort of idiot? like you?”

you visibly snapped at that.

“what the fuck is your problem? i’m trying to mind my own fucking business, why don’t you do the same?”

“oh cut that crap out, you’re obviously in a pissy mood, tell me why so you can get the hell over it.” he snaps back, now with the same energy as you.

you let a pause catch your throat, and you look down at the surface of the couch, the soft cushion your body is on top of.

“i don’t know.”

when he doesn’t reply, you half roll your eyes.

“there, happy?” you seethed.

that venom was back, spilling from your breath, and darting to poison the male in front of you.

you don’t bother to look at his face, you will save your dignity thank you very much.

sae this time let’s out an audible sigh and raised his hands, doing something you never expected from a guy like him.

a hand pats itself onto the crown of your head, for a second it doesn’t move, nothing does, the air and atmosphere seemed still, you were too scared(?) to break it.

his hand then circles around your head, softly running his hands through your hair, his slightly cool hands leave a trail of comfort in it’s tracks.

eventually, he pulls you in, the motion left you in a position where he was like.. hugging your head, if that makes sense.

you don’t look up at him, your pride pushing your vision to the corner, but sae wasn’t pushing you to look at him.

with more analysis of your actions and this, it’s obvious that asking you to look at him would be a waste, it would only plunge you into this strange sensation more.

you only closed your eyes and leaned into the feeling, the continuous stroking of your scalp, the soft finger pads ghosting over your hairline from time to time.

the eventual shifting of his legs and your body leaves you in a comforting state, positioning to bring you to a place of solace.

that night you slept particularly well.

i guess.

genuine emotion trash i want to rip off my skin and blast a song but no song sounds right

fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck

alexa play fighter by jack stauber

#★ rini's writing #itoshi sae #★ sae #sae itoshi #writing #writers on tumblr #bllk x reader #bllk x you #bllk #bllk sae #sae x reader #sae x you

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jasyred · 2 days ago

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There are few things in life that will never change, no matter how hard we try.

For example me waking up to muffled screams and yells and abuses at five in the morning. I groan, pulling my blanket over my head, hoping it'll drown out the unwanted sounds. I turn to other side, pressing my good ear against the pillow, letting the silence of my other ear offer me a small, bitter comfort. It's times like these I'm almost glad for being partially deaf.

I train my brain to go back to sleep, try to stop it from turning those bitter gibberish thrown from other room into something that makes sense, because I do not want to hear it.

I fail. Miserably.

I suck in a sharp breath, unlocking my phone, my thumb wondering on it's own what to do. It takes every cell in my body to not exhaust myself just in the morning yet, and I close my phone.

Golden afternoon, a busy road, blaring horns and loud people. Noise. So much noise.

I clutch on the strap of my backpack, adjusting it on my shoulders. The items in the bag poke my back through it, and I realise it's really stuffy, the items poking through all directions.

Just like my chest. Uncomfortably stuffy, something poking at me from inside, threatening to tear at the flesh and bleed out.

I take a deep breath, eyes trained on the road.

Maybe it was a one time situation, a false alarm? Because of stress?

My mind feels back to the conversation with my gynaecologist.

Stress.

The multiple silver strands of hair in my head spoke volumes. I should be alarmed. I'm only twenty one.

My eyes dart around everything in sight, trying to bring myself out of my head. I don't want to be in my head. Don't want the train of thoughts to wander where I don't want them to. To open the boxes i closed off tightly. To crash into them altogether.

I smoothen out my black jacket, looking around. My boots feel heavier, pulling my feet against the earth more than gravity. Is that why my thighs hurt?

My eyes dart around everything in sight, and I try to force my mind not to look for meanings. Meaning behind the way someone is talking. The bright red color. The awfully bright green gooseberry. That person walking by. The person eating in a corner.

A subtle realisation dawns on me and I force it away, closing my eyes. I breathe out.

I had made a promise to someone. That I'd make sure their life has an happy ending. I made that promise my purpose to live. To hold on.

But they crossed the bridge sooner than I could make sure of it.

I wince physically.

My mind was looking for a purpose. Forcefully looking for a meaning to this life. Forcefully looking for something to hold on to.

I continue walking, my arms crossed against my chest like some sort of barrier. I wonder what kind of look I had on my face right now. Was it neutral? Was it my resting sad face? Was I smiling?

Can't tell.

The more I try to stay present in the moment, the more something from inside clawed on me. Bitter red dripping slowly from the cracks.

The more I looked at people, the more my jaw clenched. What the fuck are they so nonchalant about? How are you living so blissfully while being oblivious? Why the fuck are you smiling at me? What the hell is there to be happy about—

I sigh. Stopping in my tracks.

You're being a bad person again. My conscience gnaws at me.

I clutch onto my stomach.

You're being a bad admin.

To hell with your numb.

I squeeze my eyes shut, running a hand over my face. Then proceed to walk through an alley.

I don't know how many "I didn't mean to. I don't want to" are left in me. How many explanations in my defence are left.

Grief has a way of making every emotion go haywire. Messing up the brain. Especially when you're trying to keep everything at bay.

I don't think I'll be explaining myself anymore.

My chest tightens and I stop in my tracks, breathing harshly. There was a little pendulum going back and forth between two glass containers inside me. Containers that had multiple cracks in them. I like to call them grief and suppressed rage. They were shattered and were barely held together with a single breath of mine. This single breath was also holding onto the force of the pendulum. Keeping it steady.

I stand still. Very still.

Don't go. Because if you do, I'll fall apart. I'll shatter completely.

Something cracks in me again and I suck in a sharp breath. I'm trying my very best. Absolute best to keep the broken pieces together. To not have them burst in million direction, in so many fine particles that it becomes impossible, for anyone, including myself to put it back together.

I can't afford to let loose right now. Not right now. Not right now—

My phone buzzes with a text.

An unknown number.

My eyes zero in the profile.

A fucking unwanted number.

a goddamn ex.

A clear indication that some bastard very casually gave away my number breaching my privacy.

My jaw clenches and I try to cool myself, twisting the ring on my finger, my thumb brushing against the pointed bump on the front of the ring, bringing it out in the open. Everything in my sight was testing my patience.

I look at screen with messages popping up. I press the block button.

Humans are fucking lucky I'm just a weak, painfully patient person who hates the idea of getting blood on my hands and can't tolerate it anywhere near me.

#poetry #writing #literature #quotes #aesthetic #spilled ink #art #quoted #lit #dark academia #vent blog #personal vent #vent #female rage #tw grief #grieving

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flower-sniffing-friend · 2 months ago

Text

I finally found a good place to display my keychains :)

#dickjay #jaydick #as a bonus i can stick my magnets on it #eventually i will find a place for my pins and share a picture of that #but for now this little corner of my room makes me happy

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kurooh · 1 month ago

Text

I’MA MAKE U SCREAM ★ S. GOJO & S. GETO

⊹₊˚. a series of unrelenting, mysterious phone calls late at night leads to you being sandwiched between two hot ghostface slashers who’ve got you fucking for your life.

warnings. 18+ content — mdni, fem! reader, ghostface! gojo & geto, threesome, knife play, landline phones, mentions of death, oral (f receiving), double penetration, anal/fingering, tongue piercings, pussy slapping, biting. 5.2K words whew (pls read anyway 🧎‍♀️)

xoxo, juno. happy halloween!! thank you to my dearest wolfy anon for beta reading <33 comment & rb if you enjoyed!!! 🎃

“hello?”

“why don’t you wanna talk with me?”

“who is this?” you roll your eyes, unimpressed by the cheery voice coming through the phone. “it’s like eleven at night, what do you want?”

“ya tell me your name, and i’ll tell ya mine,” that voice lilts into a teasing tone, words dripping with persuasive sweetness.

“nah, i’m heading to bed. nice talk.”

“aw, bedtime already? you’re not even gonna watch a movie before you sleep?” the question has your brows furrowing in aggravation, but you sigh, choosing to answer anyway.

“i didn’t have anything in mind,” the caller lets out a laugh, straight into your ear. “what, you’ve got a suggestion?”

“do you like scary movies?” and you can hear the smile in the caller’s voice; he’s amused, probably laughing with his friends over the prank call in the moments of muffled silence.

“i suppose so.”

“don’t you have a favorite? why not watch it?”

“well, i won’t be able to sleep,” you reply simply, twirling the phone cord between your fingers. “but the longer we talk, the more sleep i lose out on. so, have a good night!”

“wait!” the caller snaps, demanding as ever. the sudden outburst sends chills straight down your spine. “don’t hang up on me.”

“and why shouldn’t i?” the blatant defiance has the caller letting out a laugh that sounds rather menacing . . he clears his throat, seemingly returning to his more even tempered tone.

“we’re not done talking,” he says simply, sounding a little crackly through the phone. “so don’t hang up, you’ll—”

a rational person with an interest in talking would certainly call during the day, and only once or twice before quitting altogether to wait for a call back. an irrational person would have your house phones ringing off the hooks while you were in the shower, calling nonstop and then getting far too arrogant once you finally picked up. just as you slam the phone back down, it starts to ring again.

you decide to leave the room, figuring that the caller will tire himself out quickly, but he doesn’t. in the time that you left the phone to go to another room, there wasn’t a single beat of silence. furious, you race toward the phone, fingers sliding on the kitchen counter as you snatch it up.

“fuck you! listen to me, you’d better stop—”

“no, you listen to me,” the caller snarls, and the harshness of his voice has your heart kicking hard against your rib cage. something in your gut tells you that this isn’t just a talkative caller. “don’t fucking hang up on me again, got that?”

you recover some of your composure, goosebumps rising on your skin. the cool breeze blowing through a nearby window adds to the chilling feeling that’s washed over you in only a matter of seconds. “w-well, what do you want, then?”

“i wanna see your insides, dummy,” is the crazed response, and you can’t stop the way your face immediately twists in horror. a clicking sound is heard as the second phone in your house—the one upstairs—is picked up, and another person hops onto the call.

“now, now,” this new voice is smooth, immediately drawing your attention as you listen attentively through the phone. “that’s no way to talk, you’ll scare her silly.”

“what the fuck?” you ask aloud, although you hadn’t meant to. all you can think about is the fact that two weirdos have you almost . . cornered on the phone.

the crazy voice scoffs, ignoring your mumbling. “well, you heard her! trying to hang up and shit,” he clicks his tongue in disapproval before sighing. “anyway, where were we?”

you don’t even say anything, and the other voice exhales into the phone. “see, look at what you’ve gone and done now. our girl’s too scared to talk to us, isn’t she?”

“look, i-i’m just gonna go to bed. goodnight.”

“you’re not going anywhere, honey,” the calmer one of the two says, but this time his voice is much clearer, almost as if he’s standing beside you. you take a step backward, trying to shake off the weird feelings and relentless goosebumps spreading across your skin.

you might as well be wearing nothing.

the satin slip dress you were planning to sleep in is as thin as plastic wrap; you’ve backed up into someone’s strong chest and thanks to the thinness of your pajamas, you can feel each sharp ridge of muscle. the pecs are strong, firm to the touch, and the abs are hard enough to cut diamonds. fear races through your body, so overwhelming that your lips part to let out a scream—but the noise is muffled by a large palm that pulls you back, flush against the muscles. separated only by a few layers of clothing, you can feel the warmth of their body and the casual rise of their chest as they breathe. if you weren’t being silenced, this would be comforting, in a way.

“promise you won’t scream, baby?” that calm voice has a dangerous edge; you nod immediately, frantically, desperately — as you feel a few tears gather in your eyes. this . . does not look, feel, or sound good in any way imaginable. who even are these people? and why you? a seemingly normal thursday evening had gone entirely downhill, and you didn’t even know why.

“good girl,” the person hums, dropping their hand from the lower half of your face and instead replacing it with the sharp edge of a knife. “let’s head upstairs, shall we?” as you ascend the steps, the blade drops lower, until it hovers over the tender skin of your throat. you can’t even turn around and see who the person is, for fear of getting cut over the simple action.

“could i at least turn around?”

“what for?” he asks, nudging the bedroom door open. you’re met with the frightening sight of a person in robes lounging on your bed, against your pillows. they have a spooky, ghostly mask, but you know who it is the second their mouth opens.

“you took the knives out that quickly?” the figure clicks his tongue, raising a hand to his face to pull off the ghostface mask. so this is what this is—some kind of ridiculous scream roleplay . . but the feel of the knife and the way it gleams is too real. “what happened to playing around, suguru?”

“it’s—it’s you! from the phone.” you say, straining against the man behind you, who pulls the knife a few inches away from your throat.

“careful now, doll. you’ll hurt yourself.”

“if you let me go, maybe i’d—” the man on the bed sits up then, pulling off his mask. you can’t see who he is just yet, the shadow from his hood obscuring his face. in a moment, he grabs hold of your face with a gloved hand, fingers squeezing cruelly at your cheeks.

it’s utterly nasty, the way feelings of attraction twist in your stomach. heat rises to your cheeks and you swallow, looking into diamond blue eyes that have your heart fluttering despicably. how is it possible to even be focused on your grim reaper’s looks, almost entirely forgetting their intentions as you lose yourself in those eyes?

“cat got your tongue? i said i wanna see your insides and you didn’t even look fazed.”

beneath the robe, you can see the tips of snowy hair, along with a face that’s far too handsome to belong to some kind of murderer. you shake your head in disbelief, sucking in a breath. “uh . . huh? sorry, i didn’t hear you.”

he drops your face with an annoyed scoff, stepping back to plop down on your bed before fully pulling off his hood. “y’know what—suguru, you deal with her.”

the man behind you pushes you forward, and you awkwardly take a seat beside the sighing killer. suguru tugs off his mask and inspects the knife closely, running a gloved finger over the edge before nodding. “might as well use the knives on you. maybe you’ll hear us then?”

“what’re you—why’re you doing all this?” you ask, the words sputtering out of your mouth nervously. “is there any way i can convince you not to cut me open?”

suguru looks at his literal partner in crime, pushing his black bangs away from his eyes as he speaks. “oh? trying to cheat death, sweet thing?”

you shrug, casually flopping onto your back. the satiny fabric of your dress flips up, and you unintentionally give both of them a great view of your panties. now that they’re deliberating how to move forward with you, the fear of the situation has dissipated greatly. “i just wanna go to bed and live to see another day tomorrow. name the price for my life and i’ll pay it.”

“those are fighting words,” suguru remarks, “don’t you agree, satoru?”

satoru nods, eyes glued to the thin fabric covering what’s between your legs. his mind runs wild as he imagines what he and suguru could impose on you. they’re practically in sync—suguru looks over just as satoru looks up, the two of them sharing a knowing look.

“hmph. sit up and listen.” satoru nudges your thigh, and you do as he says, looking bored. the whole night has done one too many 180s, giving you the most severe case of whiplash in your life. you’d initially been annoyed, terrified, then mildly attracted, and now . . almost indifferent.

“you’ve got my full attention.”

“we’ll let you live, on one condition,” satoru raises a finger before you can object, while suguru’s eyes covertly sweep over your body. “think you could handle us at the same time?”

a proposition for a threesome is something you certainly did not see coming! you bite the inside of your cheek, willing yourself to maintain composure. suguru spices it up with a smirk, dragging that sharp knife of his along the edge of your jaw.

“you’ll have to fuck like your life depends on it.”

it does. tension weighs the air down, filling the room with a thickness even suguru’s knife couldn’t cut through. sweat beads along the skin of your spine and you exhale in defeat. being between these two would be hard—in all ways possible; but one mistake and they’d probably end up slitting your throat.

truthfully, you’re willing to risk it. most girls don’t usually cross paths with two men that are each extremely attractive and willing to share you between one another. you squeeze your thighs together, an action that doesn’t go unnoticed by either of them.

“y-yeah, okay. i’ll do it.”

“atta girl,” satoru praises, the corners of his eyes crinkling. a wicked smile finds its way onto his rosy lips, but you don’t back down, instead spreading your legs. you look between them, a silent invitation extended in one glance.

“lie back for us.”

“you were the one who told me to sit up—” perhaps the unnecessary snark isn’t a good idea, not with the way suguru eyes you warily.

satoru leans in hastily, connecting his lips with yours to effectively shut you up. his body barrels into yours, pushing you into suguru, who catches you and cages you against his strong chest. the knife is abandoned as he strokes his fingertips along the tender skin of your neck, sighing into your ear while satoru occupies your lips.

“so pretty. heh, you’re pretty every night.”

suguru’s touch has you letting out a moan that satoru eagerly swallows, his gloved hands roaming your body. however, he seems to remember he’s got gloves on; without pulling away, he snatches them off.

“her tits, suguru—play with her tits.”

the mumbled words are audible only to suguru, who complies with a chuckle. unlike satoru, he makes no move to do away with his gloves. you moan, his hands squeezing at your tits while his fingertips stroke over your nipples until they grow hard.

“s-suguru,” you mewl, pulling away for a moment to suck a breath into your deprived lungs, “keep touching me there—just like that.”

satoru’s palm comes down hard against the side of your thigh, and he grips your face, forcing you to look at him. “focus on me, got that? wouldn’t want him to stop, would you?”

you shake your head, and in a split second, satoru’s got your upper lip between his teeth. he bites down playfully; the impact makes you gasp, and he seizes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. arousal pools in your panties, and you fidget in your spot between them, hoping that you’ll finally get the attention you’ve been craving sooner rather than later. suguru’s tongue drags against your neck while he takes in the scent of your body wash from earlier’s shower. there’s a cool sensation coming from the center of his tongue—you can feel a firm ball of some kind.

it’s a little shameful, getting this hot and heavy from a simple kiss. only, his tongue rolls against yours, and any semblance of embarrassment melts away. suguru’s fingers pinch both of your nipples at the same time, sending shockwaves right to your pussy.

“fuck,” you sob into satoru’s mouth, practically lightheaded from how overwhelming it already is, as well as the lack of air. “i-i need more.”

suguru hums, continuing to toy with your hardened nipples. “already slutting yourself out for us, sweetheart? that was fast, wasn’t it?”

satoru finally draws back, a glossy string of spit connecting your lips to his. he doesn’t move just yet, savoring the moment like a piece of special candy—you’ve practically got hearts in your eyes, all hot and bothered because of him. well, suguru is a factor, but he didn’t put in nearly as much work as satoru.

“lie back for us, babe.” this time you don’t fight them on it, scooting off suguru so you can comfortably prop yourself up on the mountain of pillows.

“tsk. this dress ought to go.” suguru brandishes his knife, and cuts through the satin material of the slip as easily as a stick of butter.

“hey!” you snap, the remains of your dress sliding off to the sides of the bed like rags. “what about you two!? you can’t just cut up my clothes like that when neither of you are naked!”

satoru rolls his eyes, tossing your legs apart. meanwhile, suguru clearly isn’t done with that knife; he trails it along the slopes of your naked body, the edge of the blade sharpened in a way that has you gasping. he applies a little bit of pressure, and your skin splits like it would after a paper cut.

“a-are you cutting my skin open?” you ask incredulously. you know the answer, but for whatever reason, you don’t pull away from him.

“maybe,” he replies breezily. “‘s nothing deep. you can handle it, can’t you, honey?”

“would you look at that?” satoru wolf whistles, and heat rises to your cheeks as he gathers your legs together, tugging them up. the knife pauses at your collarbone as suguru leans backwards to take a look, and his eyebrows raise immediately.

“she’s fucking soaked.”

“put the knife down ‘n come give it a taste.”

satoru’s request is breathless, but effective. the knife falls onto the blankets, and for a moment you use your head to consider what might happen in the future—someone could sit on that thing, lie down on it. satoru’s tongue rips the thought out of your head and replaces the words that were on the tip of your tongue with a sweet moan of bliss. your clit throbs at the prospect of more, and their balmy puffs of breath fanning over you only arouse you further.

their faces press together, side by side as they start to eat your pussy in a way that immediately has your back arching and hips bucking. satoru focuses all his attention on your clit, flicking the tip of his tongue over it while suguru slurps up all of your slick. there it is again, that cool sensation—he’s got a tongue piercing. the moonlight shines through the flowy curtains, illuminating the killers in an almost angelic glow . . maybe they’re actually pussy killers.

“‘s like fucking candy,” satoru moans, tongue dipping down to gather up your slick. it bumps into suguru’s, and he only lets out a laugh that sends vibrations through your entire core. “sweetest pussy i’ve ever tasted, shit.”

the room fills with the lewd, nasty sounds of their slurping and licking as they devour your pussy together. you slip a finger between your teeth and bite down once one too many noises threaten to escape you, and suguru pulls back to land a smarting slap on your pussy.

“ah ah. do not try to go quiet on us.”

“sorry, ‘m sorry,” you stutter dumbly, mind and body reeling from the delicious sting of the slap.

“we want you screaming,” he emphasizes, spitting onto your cunt and watching as it flutters, the glob slipping down more rapidly due to the movement. “and you will be, by the end of all this. understand, doll?”

you nod hastily, and his eyes flick upwards to your face, the hardness in them a simple warning. “yeah, i understand.”

satoru’s drawing hearts and letters on your clit, each one making you shudder more than the last. each drag of his tongue makes him moan as he takes in more of your taste. beside him, suguru’s dips his tongue between your folds, the sensation nothing more than a tease. they plan to split you open on their cocks, and getting you desperate for it is only the first step of their plan.

“ngh, t-that’s so fucking good,” you cry, thighs quaking on either side of their heads. “please, i’m gonna cum.”

“give it to us,” satoru is the first to speak, his voice clear as it cuts through the lewd sounds in the air. he’s got one hand on the side of your thigh, holding you open just for them. “on our tongues, like a good girl.”

satoru’s ministrations on your clit grow more insistent; he’s working to pull your orgasm from you, while suguru continues to slurp at your messy pussy, his eyes falling shut. a familiar and overwhelming sensation coils in your tummy; it’s one that has your hands flying to both suguru and satoru’s heads, fingers finding purchase in their hair.

“i—i think ‘m gonna cum,” you cry, back arching off the bed while your hips jolt forward into their faces. after hearing the first word of your delirious warning, satoru replaced his tongue with his finger and moved beside suguru, the two of them slurping all your cunt has to offer. to them, it’s like drinking ambrosia.

you’re pulling hard at their hair, only encouraging them to groan against you. suguru speaks, eyes rolling back from just a little hair pulling. but it makes sense, with hair like that. of course his scalp is very sensitive.

“cover us in your cum, baby.”

obedient and right on time, your pussy gushes, hole fluttering around nothing while your clit throbs beneath satoru’s finger. the intense orgasm has left you twitching from the aftershocks, gasping for breath, and overly sensitive. of course, satoru and suguru take advantage of the aforementioned sensitivity with smirks on their faces.

“no, wait, i-i just came,” is all you can sob, your hands smacked away once you try to tug them off your aching cunt. “satoruuu, suguruuu.”

suguru only laughs, mimicking your tone with a roll of his eyes. “aw, babyyy. that’s too bad, isn’t it?”

with how sensitive you are, it’s not hard for them to drag a second orgasm out of you. this time, a few tears cascade down your cheeks as you fall over the edge with a pitched cry. satoru spanks your still twitching cunt and laughs at the way you gasp and recoil, legs still trembling.

“suguru, whatcha think? you wanna take her mouth ‘n i’ll fuck her pussy?”

“that’s far too considerate, satoru.” he shakes his head, talking about you as if you’re not in front of them. “c’mon,” suguru purrs, gesturing for you to get up as he slips off his robe and boxers. “lie on top of me.”

you can’t help but ogle, a little starstruck by his body and the thrill of everything. he sticks out his tongue playfully when he notices you staring, the metal ball in his tongue gleaming. his abs flex and his cock bobs as he lays down on your bed, beckoning you over with a gloved finger. satoru gulps, panting softly at the sight. following his best friend’s lead, he slips off his matching clothing and mounts the bed, which sinks under his weight with a creak. part of you wonders if the bed frame will give out by the end of this.

“hand me the lube,” suguru grunts, catching the small bottle in his larger hand. the liquid is cool, even through the leather of his gloves. he rubs his fingers together to warm it up a little for you. his fingertips prod at the tight ring of your asshole, and you let out a squeak of surprise.

“c’mon. relax for me, doll.”

you take a breath, body sweltering with arousal. this is certainly new for you, but you don’t complain—and anyway, the slight coolness of the lube feels good against your hot skin. satoru bites down on his lower lip as he watches his best friend prep you to take both of their cocks at the same time. something wicked has the corners of his lips curling up into a smile as he pictures you screaming for them.

likely picturing the same thing, suguru tongues at your jaw, kissing the tender skin wetly before nipping hard. you can only cry out, his lips serving as a simple distraction while his fingers push inside and stretch you out.

you gasp, and he feels you squeeze down hard on his fingers, hips jerking away. “come now, don’t run from it,” suguru coos, twisting his body beneath you to angle you the right way again. he ignores your whining, and satoru silently strokes his cock to the sight. “i know, i know. just breathe for me, ‘kay?”

slowly, your body accommodates the new stretch without any more sting or discomfort. in fact, your hips begin to rock into his fingers, chasing them when he starts to pull out.

“i-i think she’s ready, suguru,” satoru finally speaks up, clearing his throat. his voice is a little choked, and you can clearly see the flush on his cheeks even in the dark. “for both of us.”

“you hear that, honey?” his warm breath fans over the shell of your ear, making you shudder against him. “let’s see who can make you scream the loudest—me or satoru.”

“as if,” the man in question huffs, pushing your thigh to the side and looking over your dripping pussy with an obvious hunger. “fuck, baby. i’m gonna ruin you.”

with that, satoru grasps his cock and guides it inside your needy cunt. suguru does the same, pushing his length into your ass. the three of you moan collectively, a harmony if ever there was one. you sob, tears burning at the corners of your eyes from the intensity of the stretch.

satoru grits his teeth and grips your hips for support, then pushes all the way inside you. he bottoms out easily, his cock sliding against suguru’s, separated only by a thin layer of tissue. so thin that they can feel the shape of one another’s cocks through you.

“fuckin’—shittt, oh my god,” satoru’s easily overwhelmed, heart pounding in his ears while sweat covers his entire body in a sticky sheen.

suguru bites your neck hard, but the pain registers as pleasure despite the fact that he tastes a few irony drops of blood on his tongue.

“do either of you plan to move?” you complain, lips parting in an ‘o’ shape around a whiny moan. “or are we just gonna sit here—”

“shut the fuck up,” suguru groans, clapping a dry and gloved hand over your tits before squeezing them. “we’ll move when we fucking feel like it.”

waves of almost euphoria wash over your entire body, leaving you breathless and panting. when you’d first met these two, you’d been sharp and aware of your surroundings, but now everything is hazy and your body burns as though you have a fever.

the bed creaks dangerously as satoru jumps into action, slowly rocking his hips into yours with a few choked, wanton moans. before long, he’s more confident, fucking into you with a tight grip on your skin and at an invigorated pace. you’re so hot and oh so tight—satoru fucking loves it—you feel perfect. he loves the way you squirm on top of his best friend, hips canting forward eagerly to meet his. the evidence of how good he’s making you feel is painted all over your face, apparent in the wobble of your lower lip and the tears in your eyes.

you hear a sigh from behind you. “can’t lose the bet,” suguru’s voice is laced with faux sympathy. it takes him a few seconds, but he finally starts moving, groaning in approval at the shake of your body and gasping, ragged breaths.

above you, sweat rolls down satoru’s face, the snowy tips of his hair sticking to his forehead while others fall in front of his eyes. “y-you like it like this, baby?” the question is rhetorical, but your whimpering tells him everything he needs to know. the corners of his lips curl into a smile that’s soon wiped away by overwhelming pleasure. “you’re taking us so fuckin’ well, sweetheart . . driving me insane, goddamn.”

“i second that,” the metal ball of suguru’s piercing clicks as he sweeps his tongue over his teeth, panting hard into your ear. “really, baby . . feel like the luckiest fuckin’ guy in the world right now, heh.”

as if you’re not the luckiest girl—being sandwiched between these two is a dream you didn’t even know you had. inside you, their cocks throb against one another, dragging in and out of your holes ruthlessly. the tempo only speeds up, becoming too much too quickly.

you nudge a weak, clammy hand against satoru’s waist, arching your back on top of suguru and nearly nailing him in the face with a reverse headbutt. before the latter can say anything, satoru snatches your hand and intertwines your fingers with his, then pins it down to the bed. he advances forward, his chest now against yours to keep you still.

“ah ah,” he tuts, his nipples hard as they press against yours, “move your damn hand, baby. this is what you wanted, remember?”

“i certainly do,” suguru titters, nipping at your earlobe. “don’t be like that. you can take it, can’t you?”

his words are convincing; he’s got you nodding in acceptance. he’s right, of course. this is what you wanted earlier—you’ve been taking both of their cocks so fucking well. just as you tell yourself you’ll make it through this, satoru’s fingers ghost along the soft skin of your stomach. despite the exhaustion that’s setting into his body, his hips don’t even stutter as he focuses on your swollen clit.

“oh . . oh my god,” the words are torn from your throat, which only grows more sore with all the noise you can’t seem to stop making. a familiar shakiness settles in your voice, and you’re fighting to keep the breath in your lungs, but it escapes you far too easily. “i’m-‘m gonna cum for you, ‘m—”

as you hurtle closer to all encompassing euphoria, the sounds of skin slapping against skin fade out and grow foggy. yet, you manage to hear their voices eagerly spurring you on, the two of them in the same boat as you.

“yeah, ‘s right. fuckin’ cum for us, baby.” satoru’s own orgasm creeps up on him, his head tipping back as your pussy starts to flutter around his cock. of course, suguru can feel the throbbing of his best friend’s cock and the quavering of your needy pussy. he releases your tits, seeing the bruising he’s left before squeezing his eyes shut in concentration.

“ya heard him, honey,” he utters after a long groan, his voice low and husky. “take all of our fucking cum.” you gasp out, nodding your head frantically as you teeter over the edge.

everything happens fast, and all at the same time. satoru cums inside you, his broad shoulders shaking as he rides it out while your pussy practically milks him for more. your cunt spasms, hips jerking upwards from the intensity of it. the movement pushes out suguru, his cum leaking out of your bruised ass and spilling in white puddles on his pelvis.

satoru looks down, biting down on his lower lip as he pulls his cock from you. this is quite the reward, seeing cum pour from both of your spent and twitching holes. your shuddering, sweltering body finally begins to cool after what feels like hours. suguru’s exhausted, but he kindly lifts you and lays you down on the bed beside him. satoru flops down beside you with a heaving sigh, only to lay on the knife from earlier.

“ow, fuck!” he jolts, sitting up and tugging the sharp blade from where it’s tangled in the sheets. he unceremoniously hurls it to the floor, laying back down with a vengeful huff.

you’re too tired to laugh, but a small smile plays on your lips. “do you still wanna kill me?”

“not right now,” suguru throws an arm over his face, gesturing in the direction of the floor. “the knife’s down there, anyway.”

you sit up, craning your neck to take a look. from what you can see, the floor is littered with their dark costumes and two masks, the knife completely out of sight. “i don’t see it.”

“hm, remember we talked about making you scream for us?” satoru speaks up, and in your dizzy haze, you don’t notice that glint in his eyes.

“uh, yeah, i think so? i thought you already did.”

“don’t you watch scary movies?” suguru scoffs, looking at you from beneath his forearm. “you should know what happens next.”

you laugh, rolling your eyes. “yeah, whatever. what happens next, you kill me? very funny. let me convince you again,” and you clear your throat. “no, please don’t kill me, mr. ghostface! i wanna be in the sequel!”

satoru simply shakes his head, and the knife plunges into your back. with a gasp, you sputter out a few garbled words, blood pouring down your bare back as you fall backwards onto the bed. you writhe on the mussed sheets, blood spilling from your lips and trickling down your chin in vermillion rivulets. beside you, the blood covered suguru and satoru let you struggle aimlessly until your body stills; then they slip their masks on again . .

“andddd cut!” the director jumps from his seat with proud claps, and the production assistants rush in from every direction to help clean up the mess.

“satoru, fuck! that knife was so sharp,” you sit up, sending a glare his way as you wipe the fake blood off your skin. despite being a fake knife, the shiny plastic point was rather jagged.

“excellent performances, the three of you! our halloween special is sure to be a hit!” the director is gushing as he praises the three of you.

“yeah, yeah,” suguru says, his cheeks flushed a rosy pink. “i’ve gotta take a shower. seriously, the corn syrup is so fucking sticky.”

#kurooh #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk imagines #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo smut #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #geto smut #geto x reader #geto x you #jujutsu kaisen imagines #smut #ghostface #geto suguru x reader #jjk x you #jjk fanfic

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chuluoyi · 12 days ago

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✎ a birthday to remember

- gojo satoru x reader

what is the so-called grand surprise does your husband prepare for your birthday?

genre: 18+ suggestive content—minors do not interact!—massive fluff, comfort, pregnant!reader, (cough) pregnant sex

note: hi peeps it's been ages since i last wrote gojo :') and love entries on that matter *sobs* but here it is... my birthday has passed too but here's to any of you whose birthday is near!

a part of gojo's love entries

general masterlist

“Sensei— happy birthday!”

This year, your birthday happened to fall on a workday.

If it were up to you, you would have taken the day off. However, Satoru had been assigned to Osaka and wouldn’t be returning until weekend, so taking leave and staying at home would most likely make you feel lonely.

Not only that, with you entering the fifth month of pregnancy, you figured it was better to stay active. And by the end of the day—you didn’t regret coming in at all. The students were all so sweet, they even chimed in to get you a pretty maternity dress to wear. You couldn’t wait to tell Satoru about them tonight.

You skipped happily toward the parking lot, but right when you turned the corner, suddenly—

“Wifeeeey!”

“Oh my god!”

You let out a loud gasp and took a step back, taking in the view. A sea of colorful balloons, with a man in suit standing right in the middle of it—

Your husband. In flesh. You blinked once, twice— thrice.

“Satoru...?”

He poked his head out of the string of balloons, a beaming, million-dollar grin lit up his face at the sight of your shocked expression. “Wifeeey! Happy birthdaaaaay!”

Before you could even process his sudden appearance, he had you in a chokehold, engulfing you in a bear hug and nuzzling his face against yours with childlike enthusiasm, the faint scent of his cologne filling your senses.

“What are you doing here?!” you half-shrieked, the surprise spilling from your voice.

He pulled back, frowning dramatically. “Ehhh? You don’t want me to be back?”

“Yes—”

His eyes widened as if you’d just committed the gravest betrayal. “You big meanie!”

“No,” you quickly retracted, trying to hold back your own smile at how comically dejected he was. “I mean… aren’t you supposed to be back on Sunday?”

“Heh heh, nope! I lied~” Satoru chirped, his grin returning in full force. “It’s my wifey’s birthday—how could I not come back for you?”

In that moment, your heart fluttered. He was probably saying it for no reason, but the fact that he really did fly back from Osaka just to meet you for your birthday meant a lot to you.

His big, warm hand then gently caressed your visible baby bump, his grin widening when he got a kick. “Ah, right… Hello to you too, baby! Did I startle you too? Sorry~”

You rolled your eyes, retorting, “He is terrified.”

Satoru leaned in, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper directed at your belly. “Don’t worry, baby. Papa’s here now, and he’s got balloons. That makes everything better, right?”

“...how long have you been standing here with these balloons?”

“Hmmm, not long. About an hour, maybe?”

“You shithead—why didn’t you just come inside?”

Satoru’s gasp of mock offense made you laugh despite yourself. “And ruin the surprise? My wifey deserves the full dramatic effect!”

Being Gojo Satoru’s wife certainly came with its fair share of patience-testing episodes, and sometimes you wanted to return him to Yaga for additional lessons of discipline.

But it was candid, over-the-top acts like this that reminded you just how lucky you were to have him.

Satoru brought you to a high-end restaurant for your birthday dinner before the two of you finally returned home.

And the moment you opened the door, you were greeted by countless balloons floating on the ceiling and the ground, the fairy lights illuminating the room in a cozy glow.

You were taken aback, mesmerized by the sight. “When did you even have the time to decorate the house?”

He grinned, looking far too pleased with himself. “I have many little helpers—”

“Don't tell me it's Ichiji and Nanami? Satoru, you—!”

“I promised Nanami I wouldn’t make him blow up balloons! Though I might have heard him grumble something about being above this…”

"You're unbelievable..." You let out a resigned sigh, yet still smiling as you stepped further into the living room, now bathed in the soft, golden glow.

Satoru observed you with a quiet smile. His pretty wife, and the small life within you. He adored you the most out of everyone else in this twisted world.

Click! Click!

"Huh?" You turned to him when you heard the distinct sound of a camera shutter.

Satoru was holding his phone, an amused glint in his eyes. “Just capturing the moment, you know. You, the lights, and baby. It's perfect.”

You giggled. “You really can’t help yourself, can you?”

He shrugged, that signature grin returning. “What can I say? You’re beautiful.”

Later, you'd find out that one of the photos would be his lock screen from now on. It would be the first thing he saw every time he unlocked his phone.

Satoru brought out the box he had prepared, handing it to you with a sly grin. “Look, sweets, before we go to bed, I have one more gift for you—and you have to wear it now.”

You arched an eyebrow, curiosity piqued, as you took the box from his hands. The moment you opened it and pulled out the contents, you froze.

“—?! Satoru!”

A scarlet lingerie set. The bra features intricate lace trim along the edges, and the matching panties are equally bold, with a sheer lace overlay. Your cheeks flushed as you glanced at Satoru, who was watching you with an winning grin, clearly pleased with his choice.

“What?” he challenged. “They'll suit you, c'mon.”

“You're absolutely shameless.”

“But you love me anyway~”

You let out a defeated sigh, glancing up at him, already realizing there was no way out of this now.

“You’re lucky I’ve hit my head somewhere and married you.”

. . .

He was right. It fit you perfectly.

The moment you got out of the bathroom, Satoru could feel himself getting hard already. You looked like a vision, the deep red seemed to highlight your every curve, turning you into an effortless seductress.

And not only that, you were adorable too— fiddling with your fingers and touching your rounded belly, barely hiding how self-conscious you were.

"Don't just stare at me..." you mumbled, glaring at him.

He reached out, gently brushing his fingers against your cheek, his touch tender despite the fire in his eyes. “You’re making it hard to look away, you know.”

His hands then trailed down, skimming the sides of your body, each touch lingering just long enough to make your breath hitch. It was almost as if he was unraveling you, piece by piece, and you weren’t sure whether to pull away or pull him closer.

And wait... was it just you or were the space between your legs indeed getting hotter and wetter?

As if reading your mind, suddenly two of his fingers touched your barely clad pussy, and you gasped. That's right— there is indeed a hole in this freaking lingerie!

"Are... we...?" you swallowed, your gaze meeting his.

"Can I?" he asked back, voice husky. His crystal clear eyes burning with lust as he assessed you— from your eyes, lips, and then the inviting sight of your cleavage.

Did you want this?

Of course you were. Your birthday was still far from over, and you missed him too.

In response, you pushed his already hovering fingers inside you, making you hold your breath. From that point on, Satoru knew what you wanted.

Without another word, he rubbed soft circles around your clit, and you let out an unabashed moan at the contact, clinging to his shoulders for support. "Ahh..."

He teased you for a while, before slowly entering his fingers into your throbbing folds, and you were close to collapsing if it weren't for his secure hold over you.

"You're so, so damn naughty..." he whispered lowly in your ear. It was taking everything he had not to lose it right then and there. He wanted you to be as comfortable as possible, but the sight of your writhing face and that baby bump was damn distracting and ignited the beast inside him.

He made you pregnant already, but there was just this primal desire— wanting to mark you more...

His fingers slowly pumped in and out of you, dragging them deep but just not deep enough—

"Please..." you scratched his back unwittingly, frustrated at his shirt that got in the way. "I-I... want... you..."

How sweet. Satoru relished in your titillating breaths and chuckled, vigorously continuing his dirty ministrations.

"Say it louder," he growled in your ears. "Can't hear you."

The bastard. You yanked his hair and made him catch your teary gaze. "I... want you..."

Sinful desire flared to life at your words. "Your wish is my command, missus."

Satoru suddenly pulled out his fingers—ignoring the whine you accidentally let out for being empty all of a sudden—and admired the sheen, sticky whiteness on them.

"I barely did anything and you're this wet already," he snorted, tasting it. "They're right about the pregnancy hormones."

He placed his hand on your waist, pressing a kiss on the firm skin of your belly, before undoing his belt and trousers and pulling out his hardened member.

The sight made you actually gulp, especially when he pumped it. He pulled you to his lap and guided his pride to your sopping entrance. The moment he inserted himself, he let out a groan of relief, while you arched your back and hissed, "Ngh!"

Satoru captured your lips, his hand pressing against your aching spine. He pulled you closer, urging you to take him completely.

"Ahh— ugh... mrgh!" you sighed against his neck as soon as you did, trying to even your breath. This was something you had done so many times before, but why was this time felt like an awakening of some sorts?

"Most beautiful," he breathed in your ear wickedly. "Don't worry, leave everything to me."

He rocked his hips against yours, one hand on your back and the other gripping your thigh. With each salacious thrust, you mewled and he panted, keeping you steady all the while.

He could feel your baby bump rubbing against as his toned abs, going along with the rhythm. Satoru grinned proudly, noticing how much it had grown over the past few months. The baby must be healthy in there, huh?

The relief somehow spurred him into pick up his pace, thrusting you more deeply than before. You almost squealed.

"You know what?" he grunted, mind hazed. He didn't really realize what he was saying to you, to be honest. "You're the prettiest when you're like this— round and full, with my kid."

You only caught the lewdness in his words, but you weren't able to ponder about it as he suddenly buried his face into your supple breasts.

"Look at them, getting bigger too— these days..." He sucked on the sensitive skin and you gasped in pleasure, crying out afterwards when he fondled them with both hands.

Your senses were overly heightened and you knew you wouldn't last long. Satoru too knew he was nearing his orgasm as he tore your new bra and sucked on the mound, furthering your never-ending moans, causing your eyes to roll back as the blinding pleasure overtook you— pushing you to cum right then and there.

In the next second, he pushed you into him impossibly deeper, and his hot release gushed inside your womb. You writhed at the sudden fullness, before getting limp and collapsed into him, not even realizing that you had squirted all over his lap and dress shirt.

Your husband glanced at you, in disbelief himself at the messy scene, but utterly satisfied as his bright eyes twinkled. "Heh..."

You were awoken at three in the morning, and the first thing you noticed was that you were in Satoru's warm embrace.

His arms were wrapped around you securely, holding you close as if he were protecting you even in his sleep. You must have passed out afterwards, as all you recalled was the numbing exhaustion.

Yet you knew for certain that Satoru had cleaned you up, dressed you in your pajamas, and even placed a heat pad on your hips to soothe you.

(He remembered the one time you woke up with cramps right after a raunchy night before)

Your husband was a cheeky shit, but for you, he was willing to go extra miles. It was an overlooked fact sometimes due to how unserious he was, but each time he did and you were reminded of it, your heart always soared.

Looking up, you found his peaceful sleeping face, and not for the first time, you couldn’t help but marvel at how truly handsome he was. A soft smile tugged at your lips as you gently caressed his face.

"Hmm...?" he frowned adorably, and you almost giggled. But when he cracked his eyes open, you almost regretted it—oh yes, he is a light sleeper.

"Sweets...? Can't sleep...?" He turned to you, voice thick with sleepiness. "Anything wrong?"

"No, I'm just watching you." You smiled, poking his cheek. "Go back to sleep."

"Really? Nothing's amiss?" His hand gently slid to your belly, giving it a reassuring rub. "You have to tell me if anything’s not right..."

"Hush, I'm fine."

After making sure you were indeed fine, Satoru tightened his arms over you and pressed his eyes shut. You wrapped your arms around his back in response, feeling his steady warmth. Right in this moment, you were overwhelmed with this gentle, soft feeling— love, the kind he gave you so freely and candidly.

Your birthday had passed, but if there was one wish only he could fulfill, surely you could still ask him, right?

"Satoru..." you muttered, feeling the cool breeze of the air conditioner lulling you back to sleep. "Will you stay with me... forever?"

A smile curled on his lips at your question, his eyes still closed. "Silly girl, it's your bedtime, so why ask that?"

You thought he wouldn't answer it as he didn't say anything more. But right before you drift into deep sleep, he pressed a sweet kiss to the crown of your head, giving you his promise— one that felt truer than anything else he had said to you before.

"I will... so you must stay with me too, got it?"

#𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑠 #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen #gojo smut #gojo fluff #jjk x reader #jjk imagines #jjk x you #jjk drabbles #jjk fanfic #jjk smut #jjk x reader smut #satoru gojo smut #jujutsu kaisen imagines #gojo satoru smut #jjk fluff

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janumun · 4 months ago

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Misty Affections [The L&DS Boys - NSFW]

Rated: NSFW/18+ 🌶️ (Take note of all warnings before you proceed) Pairings: L&DS Men/Reader Word Count: 6k+

Tags: polyandry/polygamy, bath/shower friskiness, multiple orgasms, oral, anal and vaginal sex, body worship, porn with little plot, double penetration, consensual somnophilia, edging, passing hints of breeding, scent kink

Summary: At the eve of your anniversary, you let the men, most precious to your heart, show you exactly how they love and cherish you. Slow and measured. Piece by piece.

Author’s Notes: I have been driven so insane ever since the drop of that crazy trailer, all I’ve been able to fantasize about are these beautiful men. Did so individually at first before they eventually converged within my mind into this behemoth romantic-sexy fest. (If you know me or my stories, you know I cannot go a second breathing without a little love in my sex LOL)

This one’s for all my harem loving folks who’ve been left thirsty after the “Misty Invasions” trailer. Happy reading!

You oscillate at the entrance to the penthouse suite, fingers tracing the sleek outline of the key card your boyfriend had provided you with, earlier; eager gaze skittering back towards the door. Heart within your throat and a swarm of butterflies flittering within the base of your stomach.

An entire year had passed you by; the day of your relationship anniversary upon you now. And you’d decided amongst you, in distinct words and heated whispers, that you’d make it a day well worth commemorating.

You smile at the recollection of Sylus’ amused gaze — blood-red garnet — as it had met your surprised one, a few days prior. He’d had you search up his entire house for an elusive Mephisto, on the pretence of having lost sight of him. Finding him at last, perched atop the silken pillows of his bed. And held within his beak, a sleek black card the bird had let drop into your palm, obedient, before taking flight.

A key access to the penthouse suite of one of the most luxurious hotels in Linkon City.

Sylus had tugged you close — his warm breath, a sweet caress against the shell of your ear — stating the date and time for you to be there, without questions asked. Your heart had thrilled at the time in nervous anticipation.

Just as it does now as you move to hoist your umbrella — damp still from the outpour outside — onto your arm, clutching a bouquet of flowers close to your chest.

Reaching to swipe your card, at long last, against the room’s digital pad—

Before the door sways open on its own. Your gaze skipping, immediate, to meet the owner’s: scarlet, warm in amused affection. “How much longer were you planning to dither at the door?” His hand curves about yours as he steers you inside. Reaching to help you out with your coat and umbrella.

“How did you even—”

Sylus angles his face in mute indication, at the door, just in time for you to catch sight of Mephisto sweeping across the hallway, disappearing just as swift around a corner, with a triumphant crow.

“I am going to cook that bird one of these days,” you mutter, discomfited at the thought of Sylus having been standing privy to your entire vacillation session outside.

A large hand curls about your jaw, insisting your gaze upwards, just as you feel the heat of Sylus’ mouth on yours. “Don’t fret any longer,” his lips brushing each word right against yours. Every stroke tending sparks of fire against your skin. “you’ll make me want to tease you. And I promised them I’d be kind to you today.” The thick baritone of his quiet laughter sinks, hot, into your chest; down into the depths of your belly.

Your hand curves about the back of his neck, heaving that infuriating mouth back against yours. “Please do be quiet for once.” Fingers grazing at the base of his hair before they card upwards, tugging at the strands.

His mouth pulls into a wider smile, just as you all but force the large bouquet of flowers you still carry, against the firm expanse of his chest.

“Happy anniversary, Sylus.” You murmur softly, flushed gaze fixated upon the flowers — snowdrops and lilies, roses and clematis — a representation of each of their colours that had painted your life brighter, over the course of your years together. You truly hoped your boyfriends would love them.

Garnet gaze narrowing in quiet affection, Sylus coaxes your attentions back to him with a call of your name. “And to you.”

“Now,” He winds an arm about your waist, dragging you flush against his torso. “let me find a place for these beauties while you go hop into the shower. You’re cold to the touch.” And when you move to protest, he silences it with a delicate brush of his thumb against your lip before he too bows forwards, to murmur, just shy of your mouth. “I promise you won’t miss me long, sweetheart.”

Leaving you in the stewing solace of your own indecent thoughts.

Your relieved exhale breaks in soft wisps of white curling into the air, well comforted by the heat of your quick shower. Your eyes drifting absently towards the bath you’d drawn, your favourite scent now permeating the space of your bathroom.

Petals rippling across the surface of placid warm waters; you knew how your artist appreciated the romanticism of your relationship. When you let yourself go and allowed yourself free expression of your adoration, for your Lemurian beloved. The colour, it never failed to bring flush to his cheeks at your simple gestures of affection, he so deserved. He had waited, and for so long.

A mere speck of his patience, against your current restless wait, ever since his message had lighted your screen earlier this evening, indicating he’d be there to join you, soon.

Sooner, you whisper into the air, slinking a cautious hand down the line of your stomach and towards your mound.

It was so incredibly difficult to have all your lovers, gathered together in one place, owing to how busy each of you were with your respective schedules. Tonight, hence, was a rare, precious occasion and you intended to make the most of it.

“Why so distracted.” A deep voice resonates at your back; a swift curl of pulsating red capturing your wrist before your fingers have the chance to brush in between your legs. Heaving your wrist up and back, depositing it prisoner into Sylus’ waiting palm. “You barely noticed me.” The roughened pads of his digits graze at the tender skin of your wrist in soft warning, before he lets go. “Couldn’t wait even a moment for me, huh?”

You turn to face him, a puckish smile you know is already teasing at the corners of your mouth. “Just engaging in some personal time.”

Sylus stands before you, body bare, save for the towel that keeps him from you, wrapped about his waist. A sturdy arm reaches past your shoulder, turning the shower off. Motions entirely unhurried. Deceptively tranquil, you do not miss the blood-red heat that simmers at the edges of that observing gaze.

“Oh?” He crowds you a step closer into the wall. Your fingers coast in tense anticipation about the knot of his towel. “You wouldn’t mind if I turned that into a private time for two, would you, kitten?”

You put on a deliberate show of pondering the question; a patient raised brow your lover keeps focused upon you.

Until you tip a coquettish gaze his way and answer. “I suppose I would no—” Your response, Sylus pilfers from your tongue before you can utter it, pulsing a quick kiss of violence against your lips.

Your digits impatiently work to release him from the final confines of his towel, absently tossing it aside. And onto the gnarled vines of red lurking at the edges of your vision, immediately reach to snatch up the cloth, discarding it into a wash bin close by.

Laughter in between heavy breaths; coveting fingers, free at last, skate down the strength of his thighs, skimming past his stiff arousal. A small gasp of appreciation you break against his mouth just as Sylus lurches his hips forward, once, into your grasp to better let you admire the effect you have on him.

“It’s been too long.” you murmur into the space he spares you in between wet kisses.

“Darling,” he exhales; a small, rough sound of pleasure. “Not yet.”

Sylus’ hands stir down the length of your body, fingers finding target, and pulsing into the soft of your ass before you can try and bribe your case with him, to give you what you want. Hefting you up entirely onto the corded strength of his arms, stifling your sound of surprise against his mouth.

He bids you wrap your legs about his waist, as he walks you both over towards the luxurious bath. “Now,” Settling down into the warm, scented water, he eases you back against himself. “Let us get you washed properly.”

You eventually relent and let him do as he pleases for the next several minutes.

Drifting a careful hand about the expanse of your legs, you try not to squirm too much when that devious hand skirts about your inner thighs. Across the arc of your clavicle, down the slope of your breastbone. His palms bear down against your abdomen in provocative press-release motions. You're not quite sure what kind of bathing Sylus assumes he’s doing except just keying you higher, the longer you endure his hands upon you.

Hands that grow unrepentant and bold with time, the self-pleased skew of those infuriating lips following soon after, down the slope of your neck, along the curve of your shoulder. You tip your face sideways, smoothing a quick kiss onto his jaw. “You keep this up any longer and you’re going to have an incredibly frustrated woman on your hands.”

He buries his grin into your shoulder.

“And I’m not sure what I’ll do then.” you threaten mildly.

“Is that so? I’d certainly like to see you try.” He accepts your provocation.

You reach an arm up, winding it about his neck. Fingers splaying against the damp brush of his hair as you angle your head up and he obliges, head canting for your mouth to catch against his. His tongue sweeps against yours in immediate insistence, your eager allowance in the slack fall of your mouth as he presses into you.

Sylus’ indolent digits change tune then; a large palm he curves about the weight of your breast and squeezes. The roughened pads of them toying at the pert apex, until he coaxes your moans out for himself.

The muted click of a lock sounds within your surroundings; quiet, save for the gentle ripples of water and your damp sounds of pleasure.

“Ah,” Sylus murmurs in between kisses. “He’s here now. We would’ve ended up using the little princeling’s entire bath for ourselves if he’d turned up any later.”

A thrill of pleasure and adoring desire crests itself within your chest, calling your approaching beloved’s name on a long sigh of pleasure Sylus wrenches out of you. “That’s it, sweetheart, tempt him on higher sounds next.”

Restless within his lap, you wrench your mouth away from his, raising yourself onto your knees to turn, capturing him in between your thighs.

Just as Rafayel steps past the threshold of the baths, appearing to be in the midst of wresting himself out a long sodden shirt. You absently muse how he must’ve forgotten to carry an umbrella with him, yet again, out on one of his painting expeditions, despite your reminder to him just last night. “It’s pouring crazy out there and I’m drenched to the bone—”

His words nicked mid-sentence with the slow rise of those bluish-florid eyes — taking in the lascivious scene in front — along with your thoughts torn into jagged shards of pleasure with the firm catch of Sylus’ teeth against your breast. A large hand he splays at your back, enticing you closer into his mouth.

Your eyes, refusing to stray from Rafayel’s, even as he remains rooted to the threshold. A flush beginning to colour against the arch of his cheeks to witness how Sylus augments your pleasure further underneath his enraptured gaze.

Pleased joy ripples through you, to be putting on a tantalising show for your beloved Lemurian, entreating him closer on soft sighs and broken moans of his name.

“Please,” your next gasp of pleasure scatters under the prick of stimulated tears. “Rafayel, my heart, come to me.”

And like a beautiful marionette pulled upon by its strings, he obeys your request, striding towards the two of you. Bestowing mercy upon your poor heart, you feel, could pound right out of your chest.

He tips downwards, long, graceful digits sweeping delicate beneath the cut of your jaw to raise. Brushing a sweet kiss of greeting against your mouth. “I’m here, beloved.”

Fingers refusing to cease his exploratory touches, his thumb glides past your cheeks, dusting right beneath your eyes at stray tears.

“Welcome home,” you greet, your own fingers curving about his jaw in hazy affection.

“You’re late,” Sylus speaks, his hand trekking a careful path about the flare of your hip.

Rafayel frowns at that. “I know. Not like I didn’t try to be here sooner.” Fingers tinkering at his belt buckle before he slides it, smooth out of its confines. Your eager hands reaching to assist, rushing down the line of buttons at his shirt, divesting him of his impediments.

“You’re freezing, Rafayel.” You observe, palms pressed up against his naked abdomen.

He catches one of your hands within his, feathering a kiss onto your knuckles. “Warm me, then.” An irrefutable instruction as much as it is his soft request.

Relieved entirely of his clothes, he steps into the bath, fingers entwining against yours in a firm hold, coaxing you onto his body instead.

“You're so cosy.” He appreciates in between hungering kisses. “Share more of your heat with me.” The soft squish of your breasts mould against the solid expanse of his chest the deeper you try and press against the other, your arms encased about his neck, fingers carding greedily through the wet strands of his hair.

Rafayel shifts your positions, guiding you back against Sylus’ chest by your threaded digits. The hard heat of Sylus’ cock presses against the cleft of your ass as Rafayel drives you further in by the urgency of his kisses.

His bond shimmers to life — a scarlet vow — right above his heart, your own thrilled by the rapidly dissipating chill of his body, replaced with passionate warmth.

“I’ve missed you.” He drags your intertwined digits closer, directing your hand to press against the thrumming of his heart. “And especially today, being so important. I wanted to be next to you for the entirety of it.”

Rafayel’s eyes, misted in desire and affection so acute, your breath catches at your throat at the sheer intensity of it. He secretes a gentle kiss into the fold of your palm. “I want us to make this a memorable anniversary.”

“You already are.” You keen softly, in assurance, fingers stroking down the length of Sylus’ thigh. “I desire you both so very much right now.”

He returns your fervent regard in the thick digits that skim past the curve of your spine, fingering in sparing strokes at the rim of your ass. You gasp at the sensation, body clenching in on the emptiness it has long been subjected to.

You need them both; the carnal strength of your want winds you breathless.

Sylus had left you suspended upon a torturous precipice for so long, you weren’t sure how much longer you could hold on for.

“Hey,” Rafayel prompts.

Garnet binds immediately spring to life, streaking towards the bottles lined up neat atop a marble slab. Plucking one up as if by rote memory, before depositing it into Rafayel’s grasp. “As our princeling desires,” Sylus speaks; the raw amusement you can hear within his words.

Rafayel’s response is all but a raised brow — they have learned to synchronize well against each other, you realize with a shaky exhale. You are glad, as you are nervous, for the state of your body; the havoc they wreck onto you, once your boys are in tandem.

The lubricant well-smeared across Rafayel’s digits, he reaches in between your bodies to run his fingers against the same place Sylus does, two sets of different fingers they ease, gentle, into your ass. Rafayel’s low groan of pleasure, you lunge forwards to drink against your lips.

“I need—” you cry out against him, just as Rafayel withdraws from you entirely to leave Sylus to press his fingers deeper into you, a slow, caressing slide; eased by their gentle loosening of your hole.

Rafayel hums a low, euphoric sound. “Do you need him deep inside you, my love?”

“Yes.”

“You’re almost there for me, sweetheart. Breathe.” Sylus’ grunt of approval at your compliance, he drowns into a relishing bite at your shoulder.

Rafayel’s mouth descends upon your breasts, pulsing open mouthed kisses right above the expanse of your thundering heart, his fingers finding their way towards your neglected slit, mercifully pressing into you. A loud, broken moan wrenched out of your throat, pleasure now far palpable after having been edged for so long.

“You’re so wet. So very captivating when you are like this.”

“I love you, Rafayel.” you gasp, tears gathering at your eyes to feel so full of them both.

He pulses a kiss against your mouth in heated devotion, tongue warming against yours in between urgent breaths, “I am yours. Call for me, my beloved bride.”

“Rafayel.”

“Ah. Once more, so I know I am entirely yours to have.” he entreats, gaze heated.

His fingers gather pace — in tandem with Sylus’ controlled assault — striking rhythmic against your frontal walls on each thrust. A spot he gathers at, one that incinerates itself against his adept motions, insistent thumb gliding its touches about the sweet area of your apex, hurtling you faster towards a vehement finish.

“And that you are mine. Call my name, call for me.”

“Rafayel, my Rafayel.” And you tumble over the edge at that final delightfully sensual push, quivering nerveless, in between your lovers.

“There’s more of where that came from, kitten. Don’t give up on us now.” Sylus coaxes, extracting himself from the instinctual clench of your body, whimpering at the keen emptiness of his loss.

“Give yourselves to me,” you beg, “I need to feel you inside me.”

“And you shall have us,” Rafayel soothes, pressing the head of his cock against you.

“As many times as you need.” Sylus allows; the swell of his arousal striking heavy against the cleft of your ass.

The slow ingress of their cocks deep into your body, sends explosive stars skittering across your vision, the overwhelming fullness already throttling you into another orgasm so intense, they have to hold your body still against theirs. Propelling into you in tandem with each other until they set a rhythmic, burning pace within your swollen holes.

Rafayel’s fingers cup about your jaw, dragging you into a fervid, wet kiss. His moans of pleasure he drowns against the heat of your tongue.

Before Sylus lunges forward in a demand for your attentions next, strong digits threading through your locks to guide your head towards him, catching the string of pleasure that stretches thin in between your and Rafayel’s lips, as soon as it forms, against his mouth in a violent kiss.

The thick strength of his cock pulses firmer within your body, each swollen stroke of arousal you feel zip right up across your spine from how Sylus has taught your body to fit his daunting size, well. Each propulsion he carves deeper into your walls, a striking reminder of how intimately your body remembers the shape of him.

Rafayel takes to painting littered marks of pleasure against your neck, their lengths already throbbing in impending release, searing within you.

You squeeze about them at the sole, ruinous thought of their wet heats, flooding you soon. Moaning against Sylus’ mouth when their pacing turns reckless.

“Close,” Rafayel grits in need, cleaving your thighs up and open to constrain against Sylus, the man behind spares no mercy; hot scaffoldings of his own palms, he curves above Rafayel’s, so your sole choice is but to take.

“I’m almost, fuck—” Sylus groans a filthy, guttural sound, “you’ve gone so tight, sweetheart.” Burying his face into the stretch of your shoulder, just as Rafayel’s mouth finds yours at the apex of his pleasure, spurting hot within you.

Sylus’ own release, almost immediately after, his cock pulsates its thick release into your body, surge after surge of it, your body unable to accommodate it entirely. Their combined pleasures, the frenzied brush of both their fingers against your clit, sends you hurtling into your own orgasm, sobbing against Rafayel’s mouth.

Emptying them both, of their seed, for yourself.

You fall breathless against Sylus, strength and consciousness both seeming to flee with the final sparks of quivering pleasure that jolt about your limbs. Letting yourself rest against the strength of Sylus’ body as he soothes a kiss onto your damp temple. “A job well done, sweetheart.”

His final words, you accept in immense bliss, before entrusting yourself to your men in your vulnerability.

A long time has drifted by you, it seems — minutes or hours — you cannot quite tell the difference as your mind edges the cusp of awareness. You recall the sensation of your lovers’ hands upon you, phantom breaths that persist against the expanse of your skin, still. Words of adoration, grunts of desire, the press of their lips you feel within each sweet ache of your body.

The glancing touch of a hungering mouth, at the places you were weakest. The luxuriating stretch of silken sheets at your back — body coddled in soft fabric — as you shift, eyes drifting open on a haze of lust that still chokes your mind, a simmering wet heat kindling in between your legs. Flowing from you and onto an insistent tongue.

Your breath catches in your throat at the sensation, gaze rushing down the expanse of your body to snag at the sight of a silver-haired head buried in between the space of your legs, moon-pale strands brushing the skin of your thighs in ticklish strokes. “Oh. You’re awake.” Xavier speaks, right into your pussy. His fingers pulse about the catch of your legs, keeping you steady for a slow sweep of his tongue into your slit. Sending your fingers grappling forwards, into his hair, your hips lurching up into his mouth.

Cheeks flushing fast into crimson at the realisation of how wet he’s made you, in your slumber alone.

Xavier relents at last, rising from in between your legs. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t help myself.” Your slick drenches his lips, smeared across his jaw; the sight sending a fresh jolt of arousal straight in between your legs.

“Xavier,” your voice sounds hoarse to your own ears. “starlight.”

He nuzzles his cheek, obedient, into the palm you stretch out for him. Pulses a wet kiss onto the expanse of sensitive skin. “We’re home.” He murmurs, clear cerulean eyes meeting yours.

“How have you been?” The quiet baritone of Zayne’s voice reaches your ears from above, you notice your head lies cradled within his lap, the pads of roughened fingertips scraping gentle circles into your scalp. You shift yourself upright onto the bed.

“Well. Now that you’re both here.” You curve coveting fingers about his jaw, luring his face closer to brush a gentle kiss against your lover’s mouth.

Zayne’s long changed out of his stifling attire, clad in a loose robe — he’s eased himself by your side. Carding absent fingers through the fall of your hair to hold steady, as you greet each other in chaste kisses.

The day’s harsh lines marred across his bow, softening with each kiss you flitter against his mouth, his cheeks, his lids apiece. He hasn’t had a proper weekend off from the hospital in ages; you’re determined to make the most of it now and help ease your beloved’s nerves tonight, and over the course of your rare days off.

You all deserved it, this short moment of reprieve, a chance to celebrate and enjoy what was purely yours.

You inch up across his lap, body much too aware of the moisture that soaks past swollen folds and leaks onto your thighs, an obscenity barely concealed by the flowing frills of your flimsy nightwear, caressing just past your ass. A fact, Xavier has not let you forget, owing to how his hands haven’t deprived you of their warmth, even when his mouth has — slow, stimulating touches across the stretch of your thighs, fingers tickling at the sensitive skin underneath your knees.

Xavier advances up the length of the bed, with you. His torso draping onto your back, careful hands gathering your hair to shift onto your other side, he grazes a demure kiss onto the crescent of your exposed shoulder.

You sink down upon Zayne, securing your much needed support, in the palms you press against the hard expanse of his chest. “How was your day?” Murmuring the question into the give of his neck.

“I had a graft and by-pass surgery planned earlier this afternoon.” Zayne replies, fingers trekking a measured path from your throat, down, along the slope of your clavicle; you shiver underneath his scrutiny. “It went well, so I was able to join you sooner rather than much later.”

“Owing all to your brilliance surely, Dr. Zayne.” Your affectionate smile, you secrete against his mouth. “Xavier, however. I expected you sooner, starlight.”

He hums — a sound of morose defeat — into your skin. “I nearly dozed on my feet during that unnecessarily long briefing.” Burying his face into the side of your neck, to breathe; his next murmurs stifled. “They could’ve just mailed the mission details to me. I wanted to head back with you too.”

You laugh softly, sinking your fingers indulgently into the silken strands of his hair. “Captain Jenna would be so upset if she heard you right now.”

“And you.” Large palms cup about the pliant flare of your waist, your breath hitches at Zayne’s provocative touch. “It certainly looks like those two did a somewhat decent job of taking care of you in our absence. The colour’s back in your cheeks.”

You smile, sheepish, at the remembrance of your last meeting; his displeased frown, vivid, from across the barrier of his work desk, as he’d prescribed a few vitamins for you to take, owing to the sallow pallor that had taken your face, an aftermath of long sleepless nights chasing Wanderers.

“Oh, they have.” You assure, “Speaking of, where are my missing two?”

Xavier’s teeth sink into a testing bite at the flesh of your neck. “Fixing a meal I think, Sylus mentioned.” He murmurs absently.

“Ah. We should all have—” your voice fractures. “dinner together.”

“Later.” Zayne leans forward, mouth skimming a gentle kiss in between your breasts. “Right now, I require you sate a different hunger of mine.” Teeth catching at the gauzy fabric of your lingerie. “Don’t make me wait any longer.” The low rugged quality to his request, pooling arousal deep into your belly.

“I like how she looks in this,” Xavier smooths a touch down the length of your thigh, fingering, gentle, at the frilled garter of the stocking encasing it. “I’m almost jealous of you, Doctor.”

“It is becoming on her,” Zayne agrees, large fingers cupping about the shape of your breasts, rolling at the peaks. You shift your hips in a grind upon his thigh, in an anguished effort for further stimulation. “But does the recipient herself approve of my gift?”

“She does,” you gasp. “If it gets you looking at her with such need, she does—” The rest of your words, Zayne pilfers right into his mouth in an engulfing kiss.

Strong fingers ghost the pliance of your body, down in between your legs to meet Xavier’s. Hot, glancing touches across your quivering pussy, coating their fingers in copious slick.

“The doctor looks so wound up,” Xavier comments mildly. “Help him relieve some of that pent-up stress, baby.”

“You—” Zayne grunts, just as Xavier steers your bodies until you lie, pliant, upon Zayne’s lap, the straining outline of his arousal barely concealed under the modesty of his robes. You moan enthusiastically, fingers undoing the fastenings of his robe to release him, free against eager lips.

“That looks painful,” Xavier comments with an insouciant shrug, hands firming their grip about your ass to raise. “How long have you been holding back?”

“Quiet, Xavier.” Zayne reproaches, voice throttled in raw need.

Your heart and body immediately melting for him, you put your mouth to the head of his cock, taking him in.

A quiver rips across his abdomen at the first lap of your tongue on him, his fingers gentle, encouraging within your hair. A vehement desire cascades forth: to see him make more of that expression, just for you.

“Wet him for yourself, just like that.” Xavier encourages on a soft catch of breath, tapered fingers curving into your drenched slit to stroke against your frontal walls.

Working your tongue steadily, about the generous girth of him — Zayne’s digits remain a patient point of pressure against your scalp — until he hits your throat, pleasant and full, at long last. You groan around him, Zayne swallowing heavily at the vibrations of your throat.

“Don’t be gentle.” Xavier speaks, releasing himself from the wet confines of your clenching walls — fingers he unfurls forwards, to smear across the free length of Zayne’s cock, your throat could not accommodate.

You feel Xavier settle heavy, upon the cleft of your ass; the head of his own cock he glides, indolent, in between your dripping folds.

And just as your insides flutter in impatient emptiness at the baiting stimulation, he enters you on a swift stroke, your garbled sound of pleasure, sending you deeper onto Zayne.

Xavier sets a furious, punishing pace for the three of you, your mouth working diligent against the hard strain of Zayne’s arousal. Your smothered cries of delight mixing with theirs, heated into the air; Zayne’s low guttural groans stirring deep into your belly, within the same space Xavier works open with his cock.

Your silver beast descends upon you, mouth working a steady path along the length of your spine, tongue sweeping a cool, wet trail in its wake.

His fingers reach to tuck stray strands of hair away from your face — easing them behind an ear before he gathers the fall of your hair into a gentle fist, granting an obstructed view of your ruination, to your lover in front.

The pleasured flush dashed across Zayne’s cheekbones, hurtles higher to witness the wreck of desire you know is upon your face. He looks at you as if he wants to love and ruin you, it sends a jolt of inundating slick, right between your legs.

Xavier grunts at your tightening walls, licking a strip up the curve of your ear. “Can I—” His voice ruptures in overwhelming arousal. “—inside? I want to. Let me?”

Your answer; a moan of vehement assent, intermixing with Zayne’s responsive groan. Come for me, Xavier.

His grip upon your hips turns bruising, pelvis driving hard against your ass until he’s releasing himself; hot, pulsating strokes of come, painting into you.

He pulls almost immediately out of your quivering walls, palms shifting underneath your body to lift, until he positions you, right atop Zayne’s drenched cock. His seed still spilling out onto the swollen head of him, just as he coaxes your hips down to take Zayne in, the two of you groaning out in concert at your union.

Zayne surges forwards, sweat soaked forehead pressing against yours; a low, inarticulate curse tumbles from his lips at the clench of your walls, still sensitised from Xavier’s release.

“You’re burning up.” Long, thick digits curve beneath the nerveless stretch of your thighs, guiding you in deep, measured thrusts over his cock. Xavier’s ministrations having had you well-prepared to accommodate Zayne in a single stroke.

On usual days, your body able to accept him only in gradual, pleasurable propulsions, he works deep into your pussy.

“Lean on me.” Zayne speaks.

You do as he asks, appreciative of the reprieve allowed to let go and let Zayne guide you both into bliss. His fingers stroke about your entrance, a thumb he grazes against your clit, in an electrifying jolt of pleasure.

“Come now.” He instructs the man at your back. Soothing a hand down the curve of your spine when you feel Xavier’s arousal, firmed into solid stone once more, at your entrance. You moan at the prospect of what’s to come. Never having accepted any of your lovers into the same space, when Zayne is inside you.

“Breathe for me.” He asks of you. “Look at me.” And you do, in willing love; gaze finding his, coddled in the comfort of his verdant eyes — steady — even in the heated throes of your combined passion. “I am here for you.”

Just as the head of Xavier’s cock presses, insistent at the base of Zayne’s, your body beginning to give into him. Zayne hastens to curb his grunt of pleasure into your mouth, tongues moving against the other as Xavier steadily strokes a slow path into you.

Both your men settling whole and so incredibly full within your body, you sigh in shuddered stimulation when they navigate a rhythm in between your bodies, never leaving you empty for even a moment’s reprieve. A stretch so good, it stirs satisfaction deep into your stomach. The desire for them to leave you drenched up to your womb as you voice it on incoherent whispers, head rolling back onto Xavier’s shoulder.

Their hands; gripping about the shell of your hips, down upon the flare of your thighs. Across the pinching stimulation of your breasts, your throat. Xavier’s fingers brushing to feel the desperate thrumming of your carotid beneath his hold.

Sweeping an index across your damp lip, end to end, before he slips a finger into your mouth, toying at the pink of your tongue as it darts out for a taste.

The fever of your desire streaks higher, passion so incinerating, it only takes Zayne a thumbing caress across your clit before you are convulsing, violent about the two of them in a loud, sobbing cry. Wetness slicking down your thighs despite the way they plug you, their pacing climbing faster with each swift second of inundating pleasure your clenching walls force upon them, chasing a high they seek to release into your body alone.

And when they come with bated breaths and strangled groans, your combined essence overflows from in between your legs, staining the sheets wide and dark beneath.

It is only several breathless moments later that you are able to move, body wasted and draped upon your chosen seat — Zayne does not look as if he minds much, smoothing a kiss onto the sweat-slick stretch of your breastbone. “Happy anniversary, my reckless Hunter.” And then in slower, softer words. “I love you.”

You kiss your response against his mouth; a happy, languorous sound leaving your throat. Curving an arm tighter about Xavier nuzzled into the side of your waist, your gentle beast having settled into a short slumber, after having murmured of needing your warmth close by.

The doors to their bedroom slide open just then, to admit Sylus, carrying what looks to be an expensive bottle of wine and a set of glasses, nestled onto a salver perched across his arm. Rafayel, following close on heel, with a large tray on hand; the pleasant scent that wafts from the steam laced spice off the fresh spread of food, triggers your bout of hunger.

“Reckless brutes,” Sylus comments, an amused brow he raises upon witnessing the utter disarray of your wrecked states. A smile that skews only wider with the distasteful knit to Zayne’s brow.

As if he was one to speak, you would’ve snorted in defence, if you weren’t so drained.

Xavier, too, stirs beside you at the commotion just as the last two men of your heart move to join you upon the vast bed. “Get up and eat.” Sylus instructs, rapping his fist against Xavier’s prone form.

“You alright?” Rafayel questions, the moment he is seated at your side, reaching to entwine his fingers in between yours, a hoarse sound of approval you respond with, at his pleasant touch.

In between Zayne and Rafayel, they guide your body into an upright position.

Your head coasts sideways and onto Rafayel’s shoulder, in languid stupor, as he brings a spoon of hot broth to your lips. “Start with this, you’ll feel better once warmed from the inside.”

“Warm her, they did already… from the ‘inside’ that is,” Sylus’ licentious whisper reaches your ears from the side, setting your face to an incandescent glow at the recollection.

“Crude.” Rafayel reproaches — you do not, however, miss the scandalised red that seeps across his ears at his provocations.

You join in quiet laughter at Sylus’ words, burying your face deeper against Rafayel’s skin. A cosy arm he immediately brings about your shoulders to hold you close, as he continues to satiate your other, necessary hunger.

His scent soothes and settles deep into your lungs, gaze trekking, absent, to the stretch of skin exposed beneath his unbuttoned shirt, from where you smell his perfume strongest. A sudden, stray thought of wanting to lap a path up against him, assaults your mind, sore body responding in feeble protest.

A shadow falls upon you; Sylus’ thumb brushing, delicate, at the corner of your lips. “Eat well for now. Replenish your strength.” A kiss he nips onto your ear, you shiver at the muted stimulation.

“Sylus—”

“You’ll have your fill of us, as much as your heart desires, after.” He promises in decadent whispers.

Your men, proving true to his words; the rest of your long night spent in seeking love against each other’s skins and within their embrace.

Until they engrave proof of their existence — devotion and desire — scattered like scarlet jewels along the canvas of your body.

End Notes: This is my first foray into writing this kind of relationship for my favorite media and I enjoyed each excruciating second of agonizing over positions and 🍆s. Although I adore a hot poly romance just as much as the next person (cough Him&Him&Him), it certainly isn’t something I’ll personally be trying again any time soon LOL.

Likes, reblogs and comments are very much appreciated, if you are so inclined, and never fail to put a smile on my face.

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swordgrace · 5 months ago

Text

𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐎𝐑 𝐃𝐄𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐒.

༆ jacaerys velaryon x fem!reader.

SYNOPSIS: as lady-in-waiting to rhaenyra targaryen, you find that her eldest son, jacaerys, is the only true friend and comfort you have amidst a brewing war that threatens to tear the realm apart.

note: jacaerys is nineteen, reader is eighteen.

༆ 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐓𝐖𝐎 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄.

༆ 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄.

{ FORMAT: one shot — requested.

{ WORD COUNT: 11.5K (this is a long one, not sorry!)

{ WARNINGS: SMUT (mdni), friends to lovers, inexperience from both reader & jace, loss of virginity (mutual), first time sexual experiences, sexual tension, p in v sex (unprotected), missionary position, lots of kissing and sweeter antics, slight risk of getting caught, oral sex (fem!receiving), handjob, fingering, hair pulling kink, brief overstimulation, tiddy sucking, this whole thing is soft & sweet smut, nothing disgusting here, jacaerys is the epitome of a perfect lover :))

{ AUTHOR’S NOTE: I am lowkey transitioning into becoming a Jace girl, I absolutely love him and I’m really enjoying where his character is going! This was a request from an anon user who wanted something freeform! I hope you all enjoy it, thanks so much for all of the recent love & support for my work! It makes me so happy! ❤️

𝐒𝐀𝐋𝐓𝐘 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐒 𝐏𝐄𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐊𝐒, harkened in from the gentle roll of the tides. Saltwater and dampened rock filled your nostrils, aided by the fluttering breeze as it danced across the obsidian cliffs of Dragonstone.

The castle stood the testament of time, a monolith to the rule of the Targaryens. It loomed overhead, less frightening in the lighter hours, blanketed by glittering rays of sunlight. A cloudless day — good for sailing, you thought, as vessels ushered in goods to the shoddy harbor below.

Beneath the vibrancy of a cloudless sky, you could see the shadow of a dragon soaring overhead — the Princess Rhaenys, from the horned shape above. You cupped your hand around your eyes, squinting to see, constantly mesmerized by such creatures.

In your fantastical dreams, you flew upon the back of a dragon, letting the wind scrape across your visage, feeling the weight of something so powerful beneath you. Of course, you were neither Targaryen nor Velaryon — possessing a dragon wouldn’t be in the cards for you, and perhaps that was a good thing.

As much as you enjoyed the beauty of Dragonstone, you much preferred the outdoors. The weather was splendid, and you took small victories wherever possible. With war on the horizon between your Queen Rhaenyra and her usurper brother, any chance at happiness was worth chasing after and holding onto, while you could.

House Celtigar had bent the knee to Rhaenyra, and your father sat at her council. You were made to be a lady-in-waiting, much your initial disdain. The station you held would’ve been considered a great honor to most young women, but you were inclined to be out in the ocean or on the back of a horse.

Now, you found enjoyment in it, wherever you could.

Oceanic air filled your lungs in a singular inhale, tinged with a saltwater sting. You stood near one of the many stone terraces lining the lengthy walkway to the castle’s entrance, accompanied by Joffrey. The boy had become your greatest joy amidst the brewing chaos, and you were rather grateful for it.

“Would you like to see the ocean, little Prince?” You held the boy’s hand, stooping down to wrap your arms beneath him, standing him up along the cobbled bannister. Joffrey’s laughter could brighten a whole room, and it did — it certainly lifted your spirits.

“When will I be able to ride a dragon?” He questioned, pointing towards the shape of Meleys in the sky. Joffrey was rather inquisitive — a sharp mind, one that would become a great leader someday.

You were unsure of how to answer such a question. Tyraxes was young and still small, just like Joffrey. “Whenever you grow up,” You hummed, a smile playing at either corner of your mouth. “You must be as tall as your brother, first.”

Joffrey toyed with the wooden dragon clutched between his hands, gaze falling toward the ground. “Luke wasn’t much taller.” He mumbled, and it nearly crushed your heart completely to hear the confusion and despair in a child’s voice.

Youth knew more than most, and in the mind of a child, something heinous could appear innocent, or something tragic was beyond their comprehension. Joffrey knew that Luke was gone — he wasn’t coming back. Silence drifted between the both of you, and you found it difficult to change the subject from Lucerys to something lighthearted.

“I miss him.” Joffrey’s sweet voice rang out like the pealing of bells, crystal-clear and downtrodden. You turned him around within your grasp, keeping your hands slotted underneath his arms to ground him. His eyes swam with unshed tears, prompting you to bring him into your embrace.

“It’s alright, my Prince. He’s still here,” You whispered, hugging the boy as tightly as you could. It was enough to rip at your heartstrings, tear you asunder as melancholy began to eat you alive. The fate of Lucerys was a tragic one — unfair and unwarranted, and now, a catalyst for destruction between kin. “We will remember him.”

From afar, Jacaerys observed you and his brother, standing along the ramparts with a palm atop the pommel of his shortsword. The emotional turmoil he continued to feel in regards to Lucerys happened to swell the moment he saw Joffrey clinging onto you — and he knew.

Wisps of a tempered breeze stirred his curled tresses, drifting across his regalia as it caught against his cloak. After the death of his brother, he had come out to the ramparts nearly every night, to sob and to curse the world, to pray to any God that would listen — return Lucerys, bring him home. He had lost count, and in turn, lost a bit of faith.

Remaining optimistic in the face of unavoidable danger was a difficult thing — fear had gripped him once, but no longer. He knew that the only time a man could be brave was in situations like these, where terror stared him in the face and dared him to submit.

Many still referred to him as a mere boy, with little experience and no real understanding of the world and its cruelty. Jacaerys had shed the raiment of boyhood the night he flew blindly into the darkness in the name of Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen.

With the man born, he knew that whatever would come next, he was prepared to face such challenges head-on. Brazenness was not in his nature, but he had learned to adopt stoicism when it mattered most. It was easy to shed the facade around his family, and around you.

His friendship with you was a calm within the storm, a lull in the tempestuous hurricane you were all trapped within. You now had as much stake in this game as he did — your father served on Rhaenyra’s council with Celtigar bannerman pledging to fight in the war to come, and you served as his mother’s lady-in-waiting.

Your blossoming bond was a great comfort, and the tender way in which you cared for Joffrey was a wonderful thing. You had a soft heart — a good heart, and that was something rare to come by. The two of you were both of a similar feather, and the admiration he held for you only seemed to grow stronger each day.

The word friendship often tormented him, on days where you wore beautiful gowns and stood beside his mother, or whenever you smiled. It tormented him when you held Joffrey within your arms and protected him just as fiercely as Rhaenyra would.

Honor demanded that he simply remain just that — a friend, but Jacaerys found himself smitten with you in a way that transcended propriety. To cross that line, especially with you, invited the disdain of his mother and the ire of your father, amongst other things.

Betrothal would be upon him soon enough, likely with a young maiden from the Vale or the Reach to secure an alliance, but it left a sour taste within his mouth. He had little desire to be with anyone else when you were right there.

Jacaerys steeled himself, abandoning his whimsical line of thinking in regards to you. It was a fool’s errand, and he couldn’t afford to be a fool. He stepped closer, the crunch of stone resonating underneath his boots as he approached you and Joffrey.

“My Lady,” Jacaerys’s tone was amiable, like the comforting lick of a warm hearth. His gaze flickered toward Joffrey, bemused with his brother’s antics as you balanced him along the bannister. “What are you doing up there?” He asked, playful in the presence of his little brother.

“Flying,” Joffrey’s head lifted from your shoulder, eyes sparkling with mischief. You happened to carry him in such a way that he called it flying — and he was asking you to do it again. “Flying!”

With a giggle, you picked the boy up, swinging him up enough to let him get some air. His melancholy turned to jovial laughter as you soared him over to Jacaerys, who was more than happy to pick him up. Joffrey clung to Jace, hugging his brother with all of his strength.

“You are getting too big to fly,” Jace mused, holding Joffrey in one arm as he motioned for you to accompany him. His tousled curls and amicable smile sent your heart fluttering as it had many times before. It wasn’t subtle, your liking of Jacaerys, but you understood the nature of your affections. “Big enough for Tyraxes, soon.”

Jacaerys was perfect, with all of the hallmarks of what a true King should be. He was gentle and eloquent, honed with a blade, learned — and above all, he was kind. The rage that plagued him now was justified, and it pained you to see him become coiled with anger, but you understood why.

As Joffrey regaled the two of you with tales of childlike wonder, soaring his toy dragon around Jace’s head, Jacaerys seemed inclined to converse with you regardless. “I always know where to look, whenever I need to see you.” He mused, walking alongside you as you made your way up the ramparts.

“Is that so?” You chuckled, head canting to one side. “What did you need to see me for, your Grace?” It was a force of habit — he was the heir to the Iron Throne, after all. Jacaerys regarded you with a brief laugh, knowing that formalities were often abandoned whenever the two of you were together.

“Do I need a reason?” Jacaerys mused, voice light and inviting. The crash of the tide upon the beach provided a rather serene ambience, accompanied by the calling of gulls as they circled the bay.

You shook your head, skirts gathered in one hand as you narrowly avoided an upturned plate of stone. “Of course not,” You hesitated, gaze sparkling as your nose wrinkled in mild amusement. “Jacaerys.” You ensured to exaggerate his name, allowing for your conversation to become personal.

At the end of the ramparts, a flock of crimson-clad handmaidens awaited your return. It was likely that they were waiting for you to hand Joffrey over, much to your dismay. The black-headed boy looked to you as you neared the end of your walk.

“I don’t want to go,” He protested, reaching for you as you stepped forward, taking a hold of his hand. “When can we fly again?” Joffrey asked, lower lip jutting out in a rather innocuous pout. He leaned forward, partially out of Jace’s grasp to give you a hug.

“Tomorrow, my Prince. I will let you fly as much as you’d like.” You assured him, reciprocating his hug with one of your own, with all of the warmth one could muster. It was motherly in-nature, and you watched as Jacaerys planted him onto solid ground.

Joffrey took the outstretched hand of a handmaiden, glancing back at you and Jacaerys before they disappeared behind the castle’s massive gates. It always hurt you to leave him, but you knew that tomorrow would come swiftly. A begrudging sigh escaped you before you looked at Jacaerys, countenance somber.

Jace knew what you were about to say — something about Lucerys. The gaping wound left within his heart was barely healed, still oozing with pain, but he was making every effort to mend it. You helped — your resolute reassurance and shoulder to lean on, but sometimes, it wasn’t enough.

Instead, you reached for Jace’s forearm, giving it a brief squeeze of comfort. Whatever sentiments he held, you seemed to echo it, leaving it all unspoken. You and Jacaerys had already spoken about it all at-length — sometimes, he had little desire to tear himself open again.

His head hung low, heap of dark curls billowing in the wind. Jacaerys’s jaw tightened for a brief moment, and he imagined plunging his sword into Aemond Targaryen’s other eye — and then it passed, just as quickly as it had appeared.

A forlorn silence settled between the both of you, one that was born out of mutual understanding and empathy. Jace went quiet often, and you were content to sit in it for as long as he pleased. Instead, you stepped toward the bannister, palms planting themselves atop the stone as you gazed out toward the land surrounding Dragonstone.

“You are good with him,” Jacaerys broke the silence, deliberately stepping towards you as he stood by your side. Joffrey and his half-brothers, Aegon and Viserys, were all he had left. He would die for them if he had to. “He talks about you often.”

An exuberant smile crept onto your features, one of a sweet fondness in regards to Joffrey. “He is a sweet boy — very sharp-witted, though. I would imagine he will grow to be very wise.” You replied, idly tracing your fingers around some of the rocks socketed into the bannister.

“I remember the day he was born,” Jacaerys recalled, remembering the day that his mother, pale skin glistening with sweat, had wobbled into the drawing room, a newborn Joffrey in her arms. “It was a beautiful day, and Ser Harwin was there, and Ser Laenor …” He trailed off, recalling the way that Lucerys had begged to hold his younger brother.

The topic of both Laenor and Harwin were bitter ones — both men playing the role of father. Jacaerys loved them both, as any son would. Another gust of saltwater mist brushed along the ramparts, dusting your cheeks with wisps of moist air.

Wordlessly, you reached for Jace’s arm, looping yours around him as you let him lean against you for support. As much as Jacaerys insisted that he would recover and move on, you ensured him that grieving took time — it came in many shapes and forms.

Jace’s smile was wistful and threadbare, made sorrowful by memories of Lucerys. He didn’t want to sully the moment with his melancholy, holding his head high as he glanced toward you. You were not looking, but it allowed him a moment of appreciation and admiration.

Your beauty was unparalleled, your features delicate and smile like the warmth of a summer sunshine. The way in which you carried yourself was of a kindly disposition, made to be nurturing and helpful instead of imposing. Admittedly, you took his breath away — the feeling was a constant one.

Sunlight sparkled across your countenance, gaze soothing and full of empathy. The way in which you grasped his arm, kept yourself tucked away within his side, it invoked feelings of protectiveness — and newfound affection.

A dragon’s shrill cry reverberated throughout the skies, prompting Jacaerys to immediately look ahead. It was the familiar shriek of Vermax, his bonded dragon, who had grown exponentially. He was larger than Moondancer, with olive-colored scales and orange fins, eyes the color of a burnished gold.

“Māzigon, Vermax!” Jacaerys called, gaining the attention of his dragon as it began to approach, causing your heart to gallop within your chest. He looked at you with a hint of amusement, head canting to one side. “Would you like to see him?” Jace inquired, moving along the wall.

As majestic as dragons were, the wonder within your eyes had quickly shifted to wariness as it landed along the ramparts, rocks scraping underneath its talons. Vermax was much larger when in close proximity than he was flying overhead. “He is wonderful, Jace. Though, it is best if I keep my distance. He might not like me.”

Jacaerys laughed, amber-brown eyes sparkling with mirth. “Might not like you?” He mused, knowing that such a thought was outlandish. If he liked you, then Vermax most certainly would. A dragon could always pick apart friend from foe, and you were as far from an enemy as one could be.

“Yes, what — Jacaerys, that is a perfectly reasonable thing to say,” You countered, flustered by Jace’s reaction to your skepticism. His smile was cheery and heartfelt as he stared at you, and then offered his hand. “I do not think that this is a good idea.” A soft utterance emerged from under your breath.

“Trust me.” His tone softened exponentially, shifting from playful to gentle, reassuring. You hesitated before taking a hold of his hand, and Jacaerys nearly brushed his thumb across your knuckles out of sheer instinct. Whatever thoughts he had, he pushed them to the far recesses of his mind.

You trusted Jacaerys more than most, prompting you to nod as he ushered you closer to Vermax. His grasp was tender, as to not frighten you, which only made your heart flutter with affection. The dragon bristled and made a series of noises, some more serpentine than others.

Vermax lowered his head, pushing closer towards his rider as the dragon bowed to Jacaerys. You were close enough to feel the waves of heat wafting from his breath, close enough to outstretch your arm and feel his scales beneath your palm.

The scent of brimstone and dragonscale lingered upon Vermax, like a crackling fire and smoke. You watched with bated breath as Jace’s palm moved to Vermax’s snout, digits tracing along the olive-hued scales, and down toward his jaw. “Sagon iēdrosa,” Jace murmured, stepping closer to his dragon. “Sȳz.”

High Valyrian was an exquisite language, a beautiful symphony from an ancient era. Jacaerys had become proficient in such a tongue, and the way he spoke it had you mesmerized. With a gentle smile, he still held your hand, gesturing toward Vermax.

“What are you saying to him?” You inquired, losing some of your fear. It gradually waned the closer Jacaerys had inched you toward the dragon, who showed no ill will towards you at all. Instead, Vermax’s burnished hues glimmered with intrigue — you were a familiar scent, emblazoned upon Jace, but not a familiar face.

“I told him to be still for you,” Jacaerys replied, fingers flexing around your own as he carefully guided you toward Vermax’s neck, where the scales began to flare and thicken. Olive turned to emerald in some places, verdant shades clashing together. “Place your hand here.”

Your breath hitched within your throat as Jace became in close proximity to you, closer than he’d been before. His grasp was a tender one, placing your palm atop the dragon’s throat. Warmth crept along the length of your spine, filling your belly with an eruption of butterflies.

You made the mistake of glancing at Jacaerys for the briefest moment, able to spot the rosy flush of color within his visage and the gleam within his stare. As soon as you’d made contact, he happened to glance away, making a soft noise as it stirred within his throat.

Vermax chortled, the dragon’s attention fixated upon you as you brushed your fingers across his scales. Jace had dropped your hand, realizing the sliver of space between you both as he stepped aside, content to observe you with his dragon.

It was your enchanting laughter that lifted his spirits, the gentle way in which you stroked across Vermax’s neck and shoulder. “He is beautiful,” You hummed, countenance bright with a joyous radiance as you looked at Jacaerys once more. The gap between you had grown, much to your dismay. “How do you say that in High Valyrian?”

Jace hesitated, lips parting just slightly. His heart nearly skipped a beat when you smiled at him, expectant and awaiting his answer. He became so easily distracted in your presence, and it was somewhat vexing to behold. “Gevie,” He replied, briefly clearing his throat. “Gevie means beautiful, in High Valyrian.”

With a soft hum, you looked to Vermax, your grin toothy and amused. “Gevie, Vermax.” You spoke clearly, but the dragon did not seem to understand what you said — it wasn’t a command. Instead, he let out a series of reptilian noises, nostrils flaring with snort, almost like that of a horse.

Vermax’s lack of reaction made you frown, but Jacaerys appeared amused by it, at least. “Gevie isn’t a command,” He mused, head canting to one side. “Your High Valyrian needs improvement.” His tone was jocular, teasing — it made your heart stir within your chest.

“Fortunately, I have the perfect teacher standing before me.” You countered with a giggle, noticing the way in which a shade of pink settled into his features. Jacaerys was beautiful and handsome, but his flustered behavior only made him more perfect to you.

The dragon shook its head, seeking the embrace of his rider before he began to take flight. A massive gust of wind from the flap of his wings nearly knocked you down, causing you to crouch and grip the stone of the ramparts.

Jacaerys smiled, watching as Vermax ascended, taking to the skies above Dragonstone once more. You watched with a semblance of awe, slowly rising to your feet as the dragon became a mere specter amidst the cloudless sky. He did not stray too far, circling around with the likes of Moondancer and Syrax.

“Someday, I will take you flying with me,” Jace suggested, nose wrinkling slightly at your bewildered expression. “I would keep you safe.” He reassured you before words could emerge from your mouth, his chuckle amicable as he led you back toward the gates of Dragonstone.

“I trust you, but flying?” To see the world from such great heights sounded wonderful, but you feared the fall — and you feared the unknown of it all even more. “That might take more convincing than this did.” You mused, walking alongside him as the gates became closer.

A huff escaped him, hand dropping from the pommel of his shortsword to his side, a symbol of letting his guard down. A comfortable silence settled between the both of you, occasionally accompanied by a brief bout of laughter or tender smiles.

As the gates loomed over the both of you, Jacaerys hesitated, deliberating on what to say next. There were so many things he wanted to say to you — where did he begin? The nerves of first affection grabbed hold of him, but he remained resistant, wanting nothing more than to tell you how much you meant to him.

“Perhaps an exchange is in-order,” Jacaerys began, shifting his weight from one foot to the next. “You come flying with me, and I will teach you High Valyrian.” He mused, smothering his grin at your expression. You were clearly wary and unimpressed.

“Danger for something that I could learn in the comfort of a book? I think not, your Grace.” With a grin of your own, Jace happened to snicker, his visage invoking an unspoken challenge, albeit playful. “If I am ever feeling bold and spontaneous, I will inform you as soon as possible.”

Jacaerys hummed, head ducking for just a moment before he met your gaze again, doting and overflowing with a subtle warmth. “Thank you for this,” He began, tone heartfelt and genuine. “I would not know what to do if it weren’t for your company and comfort. I’ve found it difficult to remain jovial as of late, but it’s rather effortless in your presence.”

His genial compliments made your stomach turn with excitement, and you could soar away. Jacaerys would be an excellent ruler, should he take the Iron Throne — such grace, compassion, and gallantry were true hallmarks of what would make a good King. You felt the familiar, smitten flush dance along your skin.

“Of course, Jace — you never have to ask for it,” Your fingers twisted into the silk of your gown, an outlet for your growing nerves. “You’ve no idea how much your company means to me. We will get through this together, that much I know.” With a brief nod, you felt his stare grow in intensity.

Before he could bear his heart to you on a whim, the gates opened, revealing several Targaryen bannermen and Kingsguard. It was sudden and somewhat jarring, placing the two of you back within reality — in a realm on the brink of war.

“I should return to your mother, I fear I’ve neglected my duties enough today,” You murmured, offering Jace a kindly smile before dropping to curtsy. He seemed starstruck, as if caught within the depths of his own thoughts. “Good afternoon, your Grace.”

Formalities reappeared again, much to his disdain. He loved it when you called him Jace or Jacaerys, or your Grace whenever you teased him. To hear it used in the context of nobility made him feel distant, but he understood. You possessed a strong sense of propriety.

“My Lady.” Jace replied, watching as you took your leave to rejoin the other handmaidens and guardsmen. Jacaerys cursed himself for not making the most of the moment, but he knew that he could make his own opportunity, forge it if it never came about.

He intended to do just that.

𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐀𝐓 𝐃𝐔𝐒𝐊 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐋, with braziers dancing across the obsidian interior. Stars sparkled above a clear night sky, dragons dancing above. It was almost like something from a fairytale or a painting, mesmerizing to behold as you gazed up at the scaling ceiling of your bedchambers.

Your quarters were small and homely, befitting of your status as lady-in-waiting. Rhaenyra had ensured that your lodgings and that of your father were enough — more than suitable, really. The feathered mattress you slept upon was made for royalty, you thought.

The constant flicker of candlelight provided a source of warmth as you rolled over within your bed, blankets hauled up beneath your chin. It was too early to fall asleep, too late to do anything of substance.

A knock at your door gave you pause, brows furrowing together as you retrieved your robe, lacing it around the sheer gossamer of your nightgown. Bare feet traveled across the cold stone, until you reached the metal hoop slotted atop mahogany.

With a pull, you opened the door, surprised to find Jacaerys, who had abandoned his traditional Targaryen regalia, hands occupied with a stack of various tomes and scrolls. His mop of dark curls framed his face, and even he seemed just as bewildered as you were.

“Jacaerys,” His nightly visits were rather uncommon — in fact, this was only the second time he’d come, the first following Lucerys’s passing. You swallowed the growing lump within your throat, stepping aside to allow him inside of your chambers. “Is everything alright?”

Jace placed the stack of books atop the table that sat amongst small lounge chairs, ensuring to clear his throat before he spoke. “Of course,” He replied, gesturing toward your newfound reading material. “I’ve brought you scripts to learn High Valyrian.”

You blinked, touched by such a thoughtful gesture. You smoothed your palms across your robe, stepping forward to inspect the books, many of which appeared ancient and weathered. “You didn’t have to,” You replied, head canting to one side. “Many of these seem important. Are you sure that no one will miss these?”

A brief chuckle escaped him before he shook his head. “The Maesters might, but they’ve read them a hundred times over, I’m certain of it. You will find more use.” He replied, retreating toward the threshold of your chambers. Jacaerys wanted to keep his visit brief — visiting a young woman’s quarters in the dead of night was not exactly an intelligent move.

“You’re leaving so soon?” Your inquiry held a twinge of disappointment, hoping that he would stay and converse with you, at the very least. “Jacaerys, I assure you that no one will admonish you if you stay for a few minutes longer.” The softness of your voice enticed him, and he very nearly confessed then and there.

The weight of growing sentiments felt as if they would swallow him whole if he did not speak them into fruition. With the threat of a looming war and the potential for oblivion, Jacaerys was unsure of what gave him pause. The fear of rejection, perhaps? That wasn’t it.

It took a moment for you to adjust, and when you did, you noted his own attire — a billowy tunic and dark trousers that happened to make him appear softer in the candlelight. The sharp black and crimson of his house’s colors made him intimidating and poised, but no longer.

You saw Jacaerys himself, doe-eyed and magnificent.

“I fear what will happen if I stay,” Jacaerys confessed, squaring himself with the door. If he continued to linger in your chambers without restraint or without additional eyes, he knew what would happen — he did not want to sully your honor. “I won’t.”

“Jacaerys,” You whispered, brows furrowing together to form a look of confusion and startlement. Out of concern, you stepped closer, abandoning the scripts of High Valyrian now scattered across your table. “What’s wrong? I don’t understand.”

The inner war he waged within seemed to reflect upon his countenance, as Jacaerys exhaled — it was laced with stress, a heaviness that you struggled to understand. He seemed flustered, not wanting to meet your amiable gaze. “It is best if I leave it alone.” He replied, taking a hold of your hands. “I would not tarnish your honor.”

That is what he meant.

Something boiled over inside of you, the butterflies and blossoming affection turning into a tidal wave that threatened to swallow you whole. As Jace held your hands, he seemed desperate to convey such a message — whatever he wanted, he could not have.

A brief exhale escaped you before you steeled yourself, thumbs brushing across his knuckles, over the veins of his hands. “You wouldn’t tarnish it,” You whispered, stomach churning with molten heat. “I know that you wouldn’t, Jace. I trust you the most.”

Jacaerys felt the stirring within his chest, the first inkling of arousal settling into his very bones. It was somewhat foreign — a new feeling, but exciting and exhilarating. “I would never hurt you,” He insisted, and you believed him wholeheartedly. “What I feel for you, I do not wish to feel this way with anyone else.”

If you could’ve collapsed then and there, you would’ve — you thought it would happen, with the way your knees rattled together beneath your nightgown. The beating of your heart accelerated into a violent crescendo, and then you felt the rush — the love you had for him, desire, admiration, neediness.

A tenuous silence drifted between you both, the tension thick enough to be sliced with a blade. Jacaerys had inched closer without thinking, able to peer down into your eyes, swirling with affection and bewilderment. “If I told you I felt the same?” Your voice barely rose above a whisper.

Deliberately, Jacaerys released one of your hands, allowing his palm to fully envelop your face, the pad of his thumb caressing your cheekbone. “I would never difile your virtue, or take it for granted. You must tell me if this is something you want.” He insisted, jaw tightening as he anxiously awaited your answer.

You knew that he wouldn’t — Jacaerys Velaryon was the most honorable man you knew, one that would never lay a finger upon you unless you consented. You couldn’t imagine a return to friendship if you happened to reject him — you didn’t want to reject him, either.

“I do,” A shudder ran down your spine, bringing a wave of thrill and anticipation with it. “I want this — and I want you, Jacaerys, if you’ll have me.” Part of you became nervous, knowing that you had never bedded a man before, but you pushed the thought aside.

“A hundred times over.” Jace uttered, dipping down to press his lips against yours. The kiss was incredibly sweet and delicate, something brief to test the waters as the two of you began to explore uncharted territory. Your hands reached for his chest, flat atop his sternum.

Allowing the kiss to linger, you tilted your head just slightly, enough to permit a sensual progression. He kissed you so sweetly, treated you as if you were precious, something to be worshiped. When he inevitably pulled away, you felt a twinge of nervousness.

“I’ve never done anything like this before,” Your confession was a strenuous one, and you hoped that he wouldn’t be disappointed by your lack of experience. Most men already had a plethora by the time betrothals and first love emerged. “Is that alright?”

“Of course,” Jacaerys reassured you with a gentle squeeze, brows furrowing together with insistence. He hesitated, somewhat sheepish to admit the very same, but he knew you wouldn’t admonish him for it. “I haven’t either, if that’s alright.” He mused, the corner of his mouth twitching into a smile.

A sweet bout of laughter escaped you before you nodded several times over, unable to keep from withholding your happiness. “I suppose that this will be quite the learning experience.” You felt his thumb stroke along your jaw, his lips molding themselves to yours in another kiss.

Passion and tension began to mount, a continuous climb of affection, prepared to turn into something fiery. Jacaerys worried that he would disappoint you, or perhaps feel clumsy and awkward, but those were mere insecurities — he knew that you wouldn’t hold it against him.

One of his hands dropped, finding the pliant curve of your hip as he sank his digits into you, able to haul you closer, until there was no space left between the two of you. Kissing felt effortless with Jace, despite your inexperience — he was gentle and deliberate, ensuring that he took his time with you above all else.

Your fingers wandered from his chest to his broad shoulders, finding the curls of hair at the nape of his neck. Jacaerys exhaled, a shiver rolling down his spine as you began to gently tug at his tresses. He canted his head slightly, enough to deepen the kiss and hold you close.

It was Jace who slowly broke the kiss, but just enough to speak, warm breath fanning across your face. “May I take you to bed?” He murmured, tracing across the silky plane of your jaw. His excitement began to grow, heart hammering within his chest.

In such close quarters to one another, you noticed the faint dusting of freckles along the bridge of his nose, spreading just underneath his eyes. You pressed a kiss against the corner of his mouth. “You may.” Eagerness replaced any nervousness you were experiencing, then and there.

Jacaerys found your hand, twining his digits with your own as the two of you inched toward your bed. It was plush, lined with furs and enough blankets to warm the Seven Kingdoms. He stood at the precipice of a cliff, preparing to dive headfirst — and it felt incredible.

He watched with bated breath, rapturous and enamored as your digits settled along the many ties of your outer robes. You began the sluggish process of untethering each one until the garment loosened, enough for you to shrug it aside and drape it over the chest at the foot of your bed.

Even with the veil of sheer, silky fabric, Jacaerys quietly admired your physique, shapely and beautiful in every way imaginable. “You are perfect,” Jace uttered, hands coming to settle around your hips, searching for any sign of hesitation on your end. “Beautiful.” He exhaled, feeling you coax him in for another kiss.

Through the slip of silk and gossamer, Jacaerys deftly felt his way along your body, taking his time savoring you. Every curve and dip, every little detail he committed to memory, lost within a sea of you. Your kiss became passionate, and he was more than happy to reciprocate, the intensity burning between you both.

Jace felt your fingers tease the hem of his tunic, enough to elicit a subtle gasp from him. The sensation of your flesh against his caused goosebumps to spread from where your digits brushed against his waist. He released you for a moment, long enough for him to assist you in removing his nightshirt.

A pang of admiration struck at your stomach, breath hitching within your throat. He was pretty — well-muscled for a young man, with sunkissed skin, smatterings of freckles along his shoulders. Jacaerys felt your lips press against the hollow of his throat, warmth fanning out from the simple contact.

“I want to take care of you, if you’ll let me.” Jace murmured, insistent on pleasuring you above all else. He knew very little of what ensued between a woman and a man within the confines of their bedchambers outside of the simple act itself, but it was easy to imagine.

Your lips parted, heat sinking into your bones as you reached for his curled tresses, digits slipping through his soft, dark locks. “Yes”, Your voice was barely above a whisper as you coaxed him in for another kiss, one charged with arousal and desire. “I want you, Jace.”

The heady, wanton way in which you spoke his name caused him to shiver, bare chest pressed snugly against your own. Even the veil of silken fabric could not hide your supple frame from him, the peaks of your breasts soft and pliant.

His kiss was so gentle — it was charged with lust despite its tame nature, not that you minded. You felt his hands fall to your hips, melding into your curves before he began to gather the fabric within his hands. Jacaerys looked to you before continuing, and you gave him a nod to signal your approval.

Silky gossamer slowly crawled up the length of your legs as Jace gathered your gown, sliding it upward. You couldn’t fight against the onslaught of molten heat that churned violently within your stomach, shamelessly pooling between your legs.

Jacaerys hesitated, likely thinking of what to do next. He had been educated on what consummation was, the act of making an heir — but there was more to it, more of you to explore. Curiosity consumed him as he placed his palm atop the bare skin of your thigh, using the other to ease you down onto your bed.

He sat beside you, leg to leg as he continued to push your nightgown up toward your hips, skirts gathering around the middle of your thighs. “May I?” Jace’s voice seemed to grow husky with arousal, desire burning its way through his veins.

Instead, you gingerly took a hold of his hand, guiding it underneath your gown as you parted your legs enough to allow him unhindered access. He caressed you wherever he could, shuddering when you held the trail of your nightgown in one hand to push it up around your hips.

You nearly squeaked when his palm brushed along your inner thigh, lips parting with a sharp exhale. Jace moved closer, as close as he could as his mouth graced your neck, digits inching toward the slick heat between your legs. When he found it, you let out a simpering whine, reaching for his forearm.

A hushed moan escaped you as two digits trailed across your cunt, exploratory and feather-light. Your hips canted forward into the sensation, desiring more — and Jace obliged, pushing both fingers inward until they slipped past your folds.

“Jace,” You whispered, eyes fluttering shut as he continued to pepper strings of sweet kisses along your neck, gown sagging enough to let him kiss your shoulder. “Do not stop, please.” That breathy plea exuded some power over him, and he was enthralled, prepared to do whatever you asked of him.

“Is that alright?” Jacaerys asked, digits becoming a touch more vigorous as he stroked at your slit, surprised at how wet you were. If it were a common thing, he would know what to expect in the future. His thumb grazed your clit, and you gasped.

With a soft hum of approval, you nodded, shifting your legs apart just a little more. “Y—Yes,” Absentmindedly, your fingers slipped from the taut muscle of his forearm to his hand, the one wedged underneath your gown. “I — Like this.” You instructed him to touch you how you had touched yourself.

Jacaerys watched through a half-lidded stare, beyond entranced with you. You were beautiful — so painfully ethereal that it made him want to kneel before you, a goddess made to be worshiped. You adjusted his fingers, ensuring that his thumb pressed against your clit with continuous pressure.

Despite his nonexistent experience, he was doing wonders for you — he was attentive and willing to learn your body as you saw fit. He was so handsome, lips curling into an affectionate smile before he kissed your jaw, digits continuing from where they’d left off.

Your palm fell across his thigh, nails beginning to dig themselves into the muscle there as he touched your clit, digits tracing around the rest of your cunt. The candlelight highlighted his features in such perfect detail, the illumination slight.

Reverence seeped into each action, every stroke of his fingers evoking a string of whimpers from you. He was passionate and careful, willing to learn your body better than you. He continued to caress your clit, the sensation sending jolts of electricity throughout your body.

His name became your prayer, devolving into desperate moans and whispered pleas as you rocked your hips into the sensation of his hand. “Jacaerys,” You sighed with passion, feeling the stirring within your stomach. Arousal consumed every part of you, just as it did him. “Jace.”

The dark-haired Prince let out a soft groan into the hollow of your throat, wanting you more than anything, and the hand you had perched atop his thigh did little to ease the fever. He kissed your neck again, scarlet-faced and beyond eager, whispering sweet nothings in High Valyrian against your skin.

Excitement and the heat of the moment seemed to get to you, as you used one hand to sloppily unlace the leather ties of his trousers. You wanted to touch him too, let him feel exactly how you felt — how he made you feel.

Jace shivered, not objecting, but he wanted to focus on you above all else. “What about you?” He asked, feeling his cock twitch with want. The ache he had for you was almost painful, threatening to tear him apart if he couldn’t find relief.

“Together,” You suggested, turning enough to crawl into his lap, much to his delight. Jacaerys held you steady, lips clamoring together in a messy flurry of tongue and adoration. It was the anticipation of youth — the desire and sentiments overrode everything else, made duty disappear. “You are perfect.”

His brief smile made all of your worry dissipate, fading into mere background noise. Your hands returned to the leather ties of his breeches once more, sluggishly loosening them. Jace steeled himself, a fire burning within his belly as you reached down.

A low, satisfied groan tore past his lips when your hand gently wrapped around his cock, searching his visage for any sign of discomfort. There was none — only desire, lust festering within his gaze. He resumed touching you, digits circling your clit once more.

Within your delicate grasp, his length hardened, your palm finding a careful rhythm. Your hips twitched, rolling into the sensation of his hand. It was heavenly — the way in which he handled you was gallant and gentle. Arousal continued to gather between your thighs, a new and sticky feeling.

Intermingled gasps and groans filled the air, the both of you clinging to one another. Jacaerys leaned forward, mouth seeking yours, the kiss hot and gentle. Between your careful, uncertain strokes along his length and his digits teasing your cunt, the both of you were lost within the throes of passion.

He slipped his other hand underneath your nightgown, with enough leverage to remove it, if he so desired. Jacaerys broke the kiss long enough to ask, chest heaving with heavier breaths. “May I?” He whispered, voice husky and hoarse with lust.

You nodded, maneuvering your arms over your head as your nightgown slipped to the floor, leaving you bare before Jacaerys. The saltwater breeze which fluttered through your quarters left you shivering, both from the brief chill and anticipation.

The awestruck way in which he stared at you left you hot, body feverish beneath his tempered gaze. He kissed your collarbone, eyes warm and affectionate. “You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.” He stated, nearly breathless. His heart was yours — every fiber of his being devoted itself to you.

Smitten beneath his sweetly-spoken compliments, you trailed your fingers throughout his soft curls. The other slyly descended to reach for his cock again, but Jacaerys seemed to place your hand aside. You seemed confused, head canting to one side. “Do you not like it?”

His bemused chuckle filled your chambers, amiable and as warm as a cozy hearth. “Of course I like it,” Jacaerys murmured, kissing along your jaw and neck, holding you as close as he could. “I’d like to focus on you. There’s something that I wanted to try, if you’ll allow it.”

Surprised, you seemed open to whatever he wanted to try. “Anything you want, you will have. It’s yours.” You expected him to put you on your knees or turn you on your stomach. Instead, he coaxed you down onto your back, getting you to lay down as he crawled between your parted legs.

His mouth pressed a string of affectionate kisses along your shoulder and collarbone, beginning to dip lower toward the perky swell of your breasts. You squirmed slightly, uncertain of where this would lead to. You trusted Jace to follow his own instinct.

Your back arched when his mouth graced your breast, pressing kisses all around the pliant flesh. A moan escaped you, signaling your pleasure as he wrapped his lips around one of your nipples, gingerly suckling on the pebbled bud.

“Jace,” You squeaked, one hand flying to his mountain of dark curls, pushing your fingers through. He touched you in a way that evoked a sense of yearning, as if you were the only woman in the realm. His hand kneaded into your chest, a shiver coursing through him whenever you moaned his name. “Please.”

Heat simmered through him, a wave of desire that only seemed to grow in intensity, demanding to be extinguished. Your flesh tasted saccharine upon his tongue, but there was something else he wanted to taste. As he kissed your chest, he released his lips from your breast, continuing his descent.

He kissed you everywhere, reverence seeping into each brush of his mouth as he traversed your body. Jacaerys pressed his lips against your stomach, and then to your hips, palms sliding against your thighs.

A sharp exhale escaped you as he peppered a string of kisses along the inside of your thigh, showering you in little pecks of affection before he flattened himself entirely. You swallowed the lump within your throat; the sight of Jace’s face wedged in between your legs made you shiver, arousal following suit.

Everything was gentle, even the way in which his veined hands gripped the pliant flesh of your thighs to let them rest against his shoulders. He hesitated, allowing you a moment to adjust and steel yourself before he dipped forward, tongue raking hot embers across your cunt.

The singular, experimental stroke of his tongue caused you to shiver, hands curling into fists. If you could melt away into your furs, you would’ve, feeling his mouth press kisses against your core. “Jace,” You whined, attempting to hold still and cease your squirming. “Don’t stop.”

It was all the encouragement he truly needed, digits soothingly caressing along your thighs as he began to lap at your cunt, adopting a pace that was a little less sluggish. He nearly groaned when he felt your hand grasp at his curled tresses, sinking in toward the base of his skull.

In the nighttime gloom of Dragonstone, you found warmth and comfort in one another — affections intensified, and whatever bond you had before was now redefined entirely. Jacaerys loved you, he had never been more sure of himself until now, dutifully bringing about your pleasure.

A myriad of soft whimpers and whines escaped you, hand gingerly tugging on Jace’s hair as he buried his mouth in the apex of your thighs. His tongue vigorously lapped and traced over your core, savoring your taste, committing it to memory. Bathed in moonlight, Jace appeared more ethereal than ever, the muscles flexing within his back.

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.

He brought you closer, heart leaping into his throat when you began to writhe beneath him, hips tilting forward into each stroke of his mouth. “You’re perfect,” Jacaerys whispered, ensuring that you could hear it. Soft utterances of High Valyrian were etched into the flesh of your thigh. “Perfect.”

Blossoming beneath his sweet compliments, your fingers curled against his scalp, unable to lay still as Jace resumed his previous ministrations. The warmth of his tongue left you with a blistering want, stomach churning with a wave of arousal.

As he lapped at your clit again, you whimpered, moaning his name as if to keep his attention there. Jacaerys’s tender expression also bore a great deal of concentration, dark eyes flickering toward you. “There?” He uttered, hoping that you would guide him to where he needed to be.

Your head bobbed up and down against the furs, flesh beginning to glisten with the first inklings of perspiration. Everything felt feverishly hot, as if you would be turned to ash where you sat. Jacaerys was attentive and loving, following your breathy plea as he pursed his lips around the pearl of your cunt.

Jace shivered at the sounds you made, enticed by each whimper and moan, every twitch of your body. He suckled on the sensitive bundle of nerves, alternating between that and greedy, vigorous laps of his tongue. He let himself be lost within bliss, arousal mounting from pleasuring you.

You reached for his hand, fingers interlocking atop the swell of your hip as he continued to lap at your aching core. He squeezed your hand as a sign of reassurance, buried deep within your sweet cunt, something that he wanted to have again and again.

He was at your mercy, the heir to the Iron Throne, the Prince of Dragonstone — and you hadn’t the slightest clue. Jace’s brow creased in concentration as he focused on what spots made you squirm the most, continuing to dutifully lap at your clit until your knees trembled.

“Jace,” A needy moan left you, reverberating within the obsidian confines of your chambers. Arousal rushed through you, molten heat oozing from between your thighs, a nectar as sweet as honey. “I—I think I’m close.” You groaned, unsure if it was just the throes of ecstasy or reality.

Nevertheless, you were on the verge of reaching your peak, and you didn’t want him to stop. Instead, you urged his head forward, fingers laced within his dark curls, right at the nape of his neck. Jacaerys groaned in delight, thoroughly enjoying the way you continued to coax him inward — he happily devoured every drop.

With another barrage of his tongue assaulting your cunt, you whimpered, turning malleable within Jace’s hands. He knew that you were on the verge, and so he pursed his lips around your clit once more, and that was more than enough.

His name emerged from your lips like a reverent prayer, the only name that you knew in that moment. Your release was hot, like a rush of fire that didn’t simmer immediately. The residual sensation lingered, and Jace helped you through it.

Your thighs twitched, absentmindedly attempting to clench together, but Jace held you apart, soothing you with kisses along your thighs. The blissful, contented expression that soon followed was a beautiful one — Jace was shocked to know that he could do that to you, bring you to ruin.

His gallant smile gave you pause as you studied the rosy flush within his features, the glistening sheen of your arousal upon his lips. Jacaerys seemed entirely unphased, basking in your aftermath all the same, his curls tousled and disheveled.

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” Your tone was sheepish, realizing how much you’d tugged at his hair. If it were you, a tender-headed maiden, you would’ve been batting his hand away. Jace’s bemused chuckle caused you to duck your head.

Jace disarmed you with a charming, doting smile and a simple look of those earthen-brown eyes of his, and shook his head. “You could never hurt me,” He replied, his attempt at gentle flirtation. “I worry more for you.” His confession was soft-spoken.

The act of consummation was not intended to be a comfortable one — for a woman, at least. Jacaerys knew to broach this with care, to make sure that you were well enough before all else. He inched forward from between your thighs, resting his head atop your stomach.

He allowed you a moment of composure, feeling your digits trace the lines of his countenance, stroke at his tresses. Jace pressed a string of kisses all around your body, wherever his lips could reach. The moment was incredibly tender, lingering with the tension of a blossoming ardor.

Through the comfortable haze of silence, you cleared your throat, staring down at Jacaerys with what only could be described at a look of complete and utter adoration. He was so kind, so noble and gentle, yet with the fervor of the dragon’s blood, a desire to do good. You felt so fortunate, even moreso when he smiled at you, pressing a kiss to your hip.

“I want you, Jacaerys,” You whispered, watching as Jace began to sit up, letting your legs trap him on either side. “More than I’ve ever wanted anyone else.” It was the hitch within his throat that made you shiver, heart hammering beneath your breast as you began to confess your feelings — it was inevitable.

Jace reveled at the sight of you, naked and glimmering within the moonlit dusk, candlelight bathing your physique in shades of flickering orange. His descent was slow as he covered you with his body, lips parting to allow a shaky exhale before he kissed your brow. “You have my heart,” He uttered, forehead resting against yours. “Everything I am, is yours.”

Your palms moved to cup either side of his face, thumbs caressing along his cheekbones before you smiled, kissing the corner of his mouth. “I am yours.” You assured, your commitment resolute before the Gods — before Jacaerys Velaryon.

It was a poignant moment, one that seemed intermingled with the seriousness of your words, yet still tinged with the youthful excitement of a first love. He kissed you, slow and amorous, full of an unrestrained affection that no longer seemed weighed-down by unspoken sentiments.

“Are you certain that this is what you want?” Jace asked, his voice a soft caress through your haze of kisses. He would not fault you if you wanted to stop now — and he would if you wished it of him. As much as he desired you, he valued your virtue above his own.

“Yes,” You replied, your palms gliding from his soft visage to the taut muscle of his shoulders, lacing your fingers around the back of his neck. “Are you certain, too? I worry that you might regret lying with me.”

Jacaerys shook his head, brows furrowing together to reflect a semblance of disbelief. He reached down to caress your cheek, making sure that you understood every word. “Nothing in the world would ever make me regret this,” He murmured. “I’ve never been more certain about anything before.”

A brief stirring of adoration fluttered within your chest, and you knew that you wanted no one else ever again. You pulled yourself off of the mattress enough to kiss him, sinking into the sweet bliss of the moment as he reciprocated. His mouth moved in-tandem with yours, eyes beginning to flutter shut.

His hands planted themselves into the feathered pillow on either side of your head, but it didn’t last long. Jacaerys leaned back, maneuvering out of the leather of his trousers, flush against you once they were removed. You were so soft, like an ocean of silk beneath him.

He felt one of your legs hitch around his hips, bodies together beneath the furs. The chill of your chambers dissipated, replaced by the warmth of your skin. You kept your hands poised against his shoulders, dancing across the smattering of freckles there as you continued to kiss him, as if each one would be your last.

The hardened swell of his cock pressed against your lower stomach, and you could feel his breath grow heavier between kisses. He was perfect — flawless, so handsome that it made you ache with want.

Jace kissed you again and again, feeling the soft peaks of your breasts brush against his chest. He adjusted his weight, shifted his hips as he pressed the head of his length against your slick cunt. He was somewhat nervous — perhaps not as much as you, but anxious enough. He made sure to be careful, feeling your legs nudge themselves apart.

A look of mutual preparedness passed between you both, between your doe-eyed gaze of anticipation and Jace’s mounting look of want, there was little room left for uncertainty. He sat up enough to position himself against your aching core, his cock splitting past your folds before it prodded at your entrance.

You steeled yourself, and Jace made sure to be slow, afraid of hurting you enough to cause true discomfort. As he tilted forward, his length filled you, sheathing himself inside of you, inch by inch. Admittedly, it wasn’t a good feeling — not initially, anyway.

A sharp exhale escaped you as he bottomed out, staying still atop you as he allowed you time to grow accustomed to him. Waves of complete and utter bliss rolled through him, his own pleasure nearly overwhelming. You were tight, maidenhead intact for the next few moments until he began to move.

“Are you alright?” Jace whispered around the shell of your ear, pressing against you once more as he reassuringly kissed along the side of your face. He felt despicable for causing you any amount of pain, but you seemed to dismiss his concern.

“I am,” You placated him with a smile, coaxing him in for a kiss. It was best if you didn’t think about it — and with time, it would feel better. Everything was awkward and clumsy, the follies of youth, but as Jace began to move, a fire began to burn within your belly. “Jace.” You sighed, keeping your leg around his hips.

A soft groan resonated beside your ear as Jace adopted a sluggish rhythm, not wanting to intensify things so quickly. Your eyes fluttered shut, body content to bend to his thrusts, grow accustomed to the act itself. He reciprocated your kiss, black curls falling in front of his temples.

Bliss soon replaced discomfort, the more you allowed yourself to adjust. You shifted your legs further apart, one hand falling toward his bicep, the other remaining tangled at the nape of his neck. The sounds of your lovemaking soon filled your chambers, with your foreheads pressed together.

Your name fell from his tongue in a needy groan, and it made you shiver, body reacting with a barrage of gooseflesh along your spine. Perspiration grew upon his brow as he maintained his pace, digits curling into the furs on either side of you.

The sound of your pleasured moans made him feel better, a sign that you were no longer riddled with soreness and irritation. Jace pressed a trail of hot, messy kisses along your face, reaching to the sweet spot beneath your jaw. He kept himself anchored there, feeling your hand squeeze at his bicep.

“Jace!” You squeaked, flushed at the growing lewdness of the noises — the squelching, the passionate groans and heavy breathing. He was perfect, cock filling you in a way that left you completely satisfied. Jace felt your hand fall away from his bicep, reaching for his own, interlocked hands falling back against the cushions.

He shuddered, reveling in the way your cunt tightened around him, the sensation of your hand within his hair, hands joined at your side. Jace’s pace began to quicken, but only somewhat, enough to really feel the myriad of pleasure take hold.

You yearned for him in every way imaginable; your body ached with each movement, every thrust as he leisurely moved in and out of you. His cock pulsated with a dull throbbing, enough to fill his belly with a raging fire. He kissed you again, lips traversing wherever they saw fit, peppering every inch of your sweet skin.

Time seemed to move agonizingly slow in your presence — Jacaerys wouldn’t want it any other way. If he could capture this moment, he would’ve. Every moment was graced by a warm intimacy that sank into his very bones, his adoration for you furthered with each roll of his hips, sheathing himself inside of you.

His soft lips graced your collarbone, continuing to make love to you in the only way he knew how. It was passionate and gentle, in a way reserved for the deepest of lovers. Jace grunted when your hips involuntarily rolled upward to grind against him, lips parting as he squeezed your hand.

At last, he lifted his head, your eyes locking together. Your countenance was exceptionally beautiful, especially when painted with the shade of desire, and it had him aching with want. His jaw tensed when you brushed dark curls away from his eyes, palm lingering long enough to pull him down for a kiss.

His cock continued to hit your cunt with a tame fervor, filling you completely, testing your limits as he neared his peak. Jacaerys knew that there would be more moments like these in the future — his energy was waning, and perhaps, the unfamiliarity of it all contributed to this.

Your name spilled from his tongue, throat echoing with a soft groan as his pace became slightly erratic. It was difficult to control himself amidst chasing after his release, but he maintained what little composure he had, gritting his teeth together as he thrust into you again.

Pleasure contorted into ecstasy, becoming an unstoppable wave that was quick to take hold of him. Concentration intermingled with bliss were etched into his features, face pressing against yours, nearly breathless as you kissed him again.

With a groan, Jacaerys rocked forward again, spilling himself inside of you. In hindsight, it was both brazen and feckless, done in the heat of the moment, but he cared little of it for the time being. His cock throbbed, thrusting into you again a time or two before he stilled completely.

Heavy pants resonated between you both as you caught your breath, flush against one another in the aftermath. You pressed a kiss against Jace’s cheek, trailing your fingers throughout his hair. He was quick to kiss you, gathering his composure before he pulled himself out of you.

A rush of sticky warmth slathered the inside of your thighs, leaving behind a feeling of slight discomfort. Jace gathered a cloth for you to clean yourself with, returning to lay beside you as he rucked the furs up around your bodies. The air was colder at nightfall, injected with a saltwater mist.

“I apologize if I hurt you,” Jacaerys uttered, dark brows furrowing together as you wriggled closer, resting your head atop his bare chest. Your arm draped over him, allowing yourself to be close, a feeling that he wanted more than anything else. “It was not my intention.” He kissed the top of your head.

“You didn’t,” You replied, tracing soft patterns against his skin, angling your head up enough to kiss him. Jace cupped your jaw, leaning in to deepen the tender entanglement, lost within the bliss of your lips. “You would never hurt me.”

Jacaerys was fiercely protective over you, that much was true — even from himself. He kept an arm wrapped around you, cradling you at his side as he gazed into your eyes. He could see you, then — his beloved wife, the future Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. Perhaps it was too early to tell, but he knew.

As the both of you settled in together, your maidenhead now lost, you couldn’t help but smile. Jacaerys had made your first experience more than anyone ever could — you hoped that it would stay that way forever. “Does your offer of teaching High Valyrian still stand?” You mused.

A huff of amusement left Jacaerys as he turned his head enough to look at you, a smile playing at either corner of his mouth. “I thought you wanted those dusty old books.” Admittedly, his offering of those damned texts is what started this in the first place — he had to be grateful.

“I knew that you would be kind enough to bring them to me,” You confessed, nose wrinkling in amusement. “An excuse to see you.” The look on Jace’s face was one of theatrical shock, and you erupted into a fit of laughter when he squeezed your hip.

“You might grow tired of me, if I am to teach you High Valyrian.” Jacaerys mused, his smile one of complete and utter warmth. Anyone would know that his love for you was obvious — there wasn’t any subtlety about it.

You shook your head, comfortably sinking against him, your upper body lounging atop him. “I could never grow tired of you, Jacaerys Velaryon.” You exhaled, exhaustion beginning to grip you. It was bound to happen eventually, given the abnormally late hour.

Jace was thankful that you weren’t looking — his face was dusted with a rather obvious layer of pink, and yet, the feeling was beyond satisfying. The two of you allowed the silence to sink through, accompanied by the sound of the encroaching tide as it broke upon the jagged rock and cliff sides surrounding Dragonstone.

“Will you stay?” You asked, hoping that he would be agreeable to it. It was a risky proposition, but Jace knew that he couldn’t leave you after this — he didn’t want to, either. No one would come clamoring about within his chambers at first light.

“Of course,” He murmured, lips twitching into a sweet smile. “Though, I should go at the first light of dawn.” Jace’s tone was one of clear disappointment, but it was best to keep suspicions low. You knew that he had duties that transcended you — he was the Prince of Dragonstone, the heir — and you were not betrothed.

A sense of understanding settled onto your features, but you still wanted him by your side — you wished that you could wake up next to him. “I hope that dawn never comes, then.” You whispered, taking his hand within yours as you pressed a kiss against his palm, knowing that there would be many more dawns to come with him at your side.

copyright @ swordgrace; please do not translate, steal, or copy my works and post them onto other platforms or claim as your own.

#house of the dragon #hotd x reader #jacaerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys velaryon x you #jacaerys targaryen x reader #jacaerys targaryen x you #jacaerys x reader #jacaerys x you #house of the dragon fanfiction #house of the dragon smut #jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys targaryen #hotd smut #hotd fanfic

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sunnami · 11 months ago

Text

❝i am half-agony, half-hope. . . i have loved none but you.❞

summary: how the marauders loved you in their time. featuring harry potter the time-traveller and sixth-wheel.

pairing/s: poly!marauders + lily x reader.

tags: reader is referred to as she/her and a mother throughout the whole fic[!], reader is a violent gremlin who craves blood but the marauders love you for that, implied child abuse[!], mentions of blood and violence[!], disgustingly sappy poetic fluff, no angst, happy ending, not proofread we die like finnick odair, edited: very minor detail.

note: there is little plot, it’s just the marauders and their adoration for you. thank you all so much for your kind responses to my first marauders fic :(( ilysm! i hope you enjoy this one as well! because there are parts when i was writing that i ended up kicking my feet in the air and smiling to myself.

“MY NAME IS HARRY POTTER. I come from twenty-years in the future, you’re my mum — one of my ‘em, actually. It’s complicated. And you’re married to James Potter, Remus Lupin, and Sirius Black.”

You blink.

“Get the fuck out of my room!”

Harry James Potter has dodged many things in his life. Killing curses, jinxes, girls, Draco Malfoy, and Dudley’s sloppy punches, but he’s never had to dodge his sixteen-year-old mother’s fuzzy slipper before. (Godric, that sounds weird, even in his head.) He doesn’t know precisely how he arrived here. In the Slytherin common room, to be exact, in your dorm. Harry remembers duelling with Death Eaters, Hermione calling his name, and a flash of light hitting him square in the chest, then he remembers waking up in the cold tiles of the snake dungeon. He nearly throws himself off the window when he meets your eyes, bleary from interrupted sleep — it’s not often he gets to meet [read: one of] his dead parents, after all, three had been brutally murdered by Voldemort, and one killed by his own loony cousin. He misses Sirius, though. A lot. And right about now, he could do with some of Hermione’s nagging and brilliant plan-making.

At present — or past, Harry guesses — he watches you scramble out from your duvet, hand clumsily reaching for your wand as you snarl at him. He wonders if his mother knows that he’s encountered other creatures far more threatening than her. Oh shit, he realizes with all the forces of an angry Hermione Granger, isn’t this the last thing he’s supposed to do? But, well, Harry has given, and given, so much of himself all for the greater good — just this once, he’d like to see his parents alive and well. Even if they were currently trying to blast him into the walls.

“If you’d just let me explain, mum—!” Harry pleads, nearly dropping his glasses after dodging one of your stinging hexes. Godric, you’re crazy. “Please!”

“Stop calling me that!” You screech, eyes set ablaze. Harry finds that you’re quite dynamic with your attacks. A hairbrush, followed by a stinging jinx, then a thick History of Magic textbook — which rudely hits him in the face, but he doesn’t dare complain because you’re his mother, and he’s respectful like that — and after you’ve exhausted your breath, running him into a corner, and your nostrils flare with the stubbornness of a lion, you point the tip of your wand at him. “If this is another one of the Prewett’s shitty pranks, I want you to leave! You are in the girls’ dormitory beyond midnight, and so help me, if you aren’t walking out that door in the next five seconds, I will kill you and string you up by your bottoms for everyone in school to see! Maybe all your stupid rumours of me being a Death-Eater might come true after all!”

“You’re a Death-Eater?” Harry asks dumbly.

You growl furiously, and Harry figures that was not the right thing to say. “I wonder what McGonagall would say if I delivered your head to her on a silver platter.”

“Professor,” Harry corrects with a toothy grin. “Professor McGonagall.”

You slam his head against the wall.

Definitely the wrong thing to say.

Harry groans, little Dobby heads floating around his vision. Why was this so much harder than actually facing Voldemort? Quick, he needed to think of something, otherwise he’d end up eviscerated to ashes on your cold, stone floors. Harry is pretty sure you’d use his remains as decoration to send off a message to your enemies.

“You hate your father,” Harry slurs through the pain, remembering Remus’s stories of how you were the gentlest magical being he’s ever had the privilege to love — now that Harry thinks about it, Remus was being extremely biased, nothing about you is gentle at all. “He’s forcing you to marry someone old enough to be your grandfather. You love to read Muggle literature but had to stop when your father burnt your whole collection of books. Your favorite novel is Persuasion by Jane Austen. It’s the one book you carry with you everywhere, you could never get tired of it.”

Your grip on his shoulders falters, but the fury in your eyes crackles. “This isn’t funny.”

“It’s not meant to be funny, mum,” Harry croaks, voice cracking pathetically — strange how this is the most he’s ever uttered the word, mum; it’s a peculiar string of letters, foreign on his tongue. “You have tremors in your left leg from when your father cast the Cruciatus curse on you. One of your dearest friends is a Hogwarts house-elf named Pipley. You cheated on your Transfiguration essay once, and—”

“That’s enough!” You bark, eyes narrowed in dangerous slits. “I don’t know where you heard those from, you creepy, little stalker, but if you want to keep breathing, then I suggest you shut up.”

Harry scoffs — you don’t understand. Everything he’s learned about you is from Sirius and Remus. They talk about you with whispered devotion, your name like a prayer on their lips, their eyes glazed with wistfulness as though they could see you reaching out for them — but you were dead in Harry’s time. Yet, you might as well have been alive with their tales of you.

(“She’s a different kind of beautiful,” Sirius had said, a year after breaking out from Azkaban, sitting by the fire in Grimmauld Place, taking a swig of decade-old firewhiskey, “The kind of beautiful you don’t want to take your eyes off from because you’re afraid she’ll disappear from your eyes. But you won’t forget her, oh no, you’ll memorize the freckles and moles on her skin, the scars from her years, the light in her eyes, and the way she holds her head up high. You should have seen her, James, she. . . she was — is glorious.”)

“I told you,” says Harry firmly — although he loves his mother very much, she’s beginning to wear him out, “My name is Harry James Potter, I come from twenty-years in the future. You are one of my parents.” A lightbulb flashes in his head. He squirms in your hold, reaching for his robe pocket until he finds the thing he’s looking for. Harry dangles the ring in front of you, grinning in success when your eyes flash in recognition. “It’s—”

“A family heirloom,” You say breathlessly. The alexandrite winks under the light, a familiar gold band with the Latin inscription of your House words. “Where did you steal this from?”

Harry rolls his eyes. “You left it for me in my Gringotts vault. It’s my heirloom now. You have to believe me, there’s no way you can deny this.”

You take a step backwards, nibbling on your lower lip, as you stagger to your bed — Harry nearly stumbling to catch you in case you fell; adjusting to the living proof of time travel was quite difficult, he, of all people, should know. He exhales, dragging a hand down his face. “Magic, amirite?”

You throw a pillow at him, which he catches gracefully thanks to his Seeker reflexes, as you plop down in the comforts of your quilts. “Sleep. The other girls won’t be back until the end of the holiday. We can deal with whatever this is in the morning. It’s way too early for me to process the idea of a future Potter spawn following me around.”

Harry smiles. “Yes, mum.”

ONE THING THAT his fathers failed to tell him about you, and that Harry had to learn himself, was that you took ages to get ready. You sat on the chair in front of your vanity mirror, the birch wood legs whittled with snakes, and it was as though you had a Sticking Charm on the cushion. Harry didn’t know there could be so many creams, oils, and serums, and powders one put on their face. He blanches when you turn to offer him a cream for his under eyes. (“Suit yourself.” You shrug, turning to brush your cheek with dusts of pink. “Just saying, those dark circles aren’t doing you any favors.”)

“What am I like in the future?” You ask, a kind lilt to your voice, much like a warm hug, much like home.

Harry stiffens, shoving his hands in pockets of the robes that were twice his size — you had given him the garments of Lucius Malfoy to change in, which you apparently had stolen from his room. It’s come full circle, really, the Sorting Hat had once told him he would be great in Slytherin, and now here he was, looking fabulous in green — because he was about to hurl at the feel of the velvet on his skin, knowing slimy Lucius Malfoy had worn it. (“No son—” You pause with a tight purse in your lips, as if you still can’t accept the fact. Harry doesn’t blame you. “—no son of mine will be parading around in red of all colors, future or not.” And Harry finds that he really doesn’t care, so long as you call him your son.)

“Loved,” replies Harry gruffly, avoiding your eyes in the reflection of your mirror — they were piercing. One look and Harry wanted to spill all of his deepest, darkest secrets. He remembers the photographs in his album, the one he’s stared at so many times as a child. It’s a moving photograph of the five of you, fresh out of Hogwarts, each wearing a smile that stretched from ear-to-ear. Before Sirius and Remus, it was the only semblance of proof that Harry had — that you had once been alive. Remus is holding you by the waist in the picture, twirling you around as autumn leaves fell. You were — are — loved, and Harry thinks there’s no better description than that.

(“I bloody hated her cat,” says Remus with a roguish quirk to his lips, regalling Harry with more talks of his parents. “Sirius, too. We just never got along with the little creature. But your mother loved it, and we would have done anything to make her happy. She deserved it, you see. She deserved more than what I had to offer her, but still she chose me anyway. And I am a selfish man, Harry, I crave glimpses of her and the whispers of her voice. She has made me a mad man whose only reprieve is her touch.”)

You hum knowingly. “Stupid question, I guess. Since you aren’t allowed to reveal anything more about the future.” You sigh, gracefully threading your arms in the sleeves of your shirt, a green tie in the center of your collar. “Except, of course, when you gave me a heart attack in the middle of the night by telling me the last thing I want to become — no offense, I just don’t see how a relationship with those rowdy bunch would work. They get on my nerves far too much for me to ever feel anything other than disgust.”

Harry doesn’t need a mirror to see that his expression has contorted in confusion; brows knitted and upper lip crinkled. By their memories of you, you all were madly in love in Hogwarts. Damn. This just made his trip to the past a lot harder. No maze seems to be ever just a maze.

Luckily, you don’t notice him brewing a grand master plan to bring his parents together. Instead, you say, “But you don’t seem to be phased by any of this. If I had been thrown twenty years into the past, I would have puked my guts out twice at some point.”

“Thanks for the image,” says Harry with a scowl. Truthfully, it had either been a present with a noseless Dark Lord to face, trauma to unpack but really never have the chance to, or a past where all of his parents were alive, and a chance to talk with them for however long he has. He knows where he’ll be staying, thank you very much.

“Anytime,” You reply with an impish smile.

Your heels pad across the floor as you walk over to him, mouth clicking as you pat the top of his head, full of wild, untameable Potter hair. “You need a trim soon,” You mutter, frowning, as you brush the thick strands away from his eyes, then you gasp — and Harry knows exactly what’s coming next. “Oh, you’ve got Evans’s eyes. That’s freaky.”

“I know.” Harry grins.

“Here’s the plan,” You say as you lead him out of your room, making sure no one saw him walking out of your door and getting the wrong impression — because that would be so wrong on many levels, but also, explaining to someone else that the person beside you was a time-traveller was just complicated in general. The Slytherin dungeon is unfamiliarly familiar, eerily quiet, as the two of you made your way out. “Just say you’re Potter’s distant relative, twice or thrice removed, and you’ve always been here. If you lie to their faces enough, they’ll believe it eventually.”

“Will that work?” Harry doesn’t really mind — he needs a connection to James, his father, if he’s going to work out a connection between you and the others, because at the moment, it doesn’t seem like you’re too fond of them. There’s a tick on your jaw every time you mumble the word, Potter. Nevertheless, Harry decides he’s going to spend the duration of the holiday break trying to set you up with them — on the list of most insane things he’s ever done, living out the Parent Trap was high up the tally.

You shrug. “They’ve fallen for less.”

(“She’s got this adorable habit when she lies,” Sirius tells Harry, whipping up a stack of pancakes for their breakfast — Remus browsing through the morning paper. It’s the closest he’s ever been to a normal family. “It’s not obvious to her, of course, but I know her more than I know my own name. So we play along with it.” For a moment, he stops drizzling the maple syrup on the well-cooked batter, gazing at Remus fondly. “D’you remember that, Moony? She led us straight to one of her pranks, and we ended up covered in slug slime. She was so obvious — with her adorable fucking giggles. I need help with Charms, she said, and we knew right away it was a set-up. But it didn’t matter. I’d happily let her lead me to my ruin.”)

The Great Hall is the same as Harry remembers. Now that most have returned home for the holidays, those who stay back mingle with students from other Houses, sharing meals under the bewitched ceiling, their low murmurs and hushed Christmas greetings bouncing off the walls. Harry scours the four tables to find a hint of blazing red hair, or the scent of impending trouble. Fortunately, he doesn’t have to search very far. As fate would have it, James Potter finds you — and where he is, Sirius Black is sure to follow.

You’re barely seated when James comes bounding over to your table — more precisely, he struts, and Harry is horrified to ever be proven wrong by Snape, of all people. He ignores the roll of your eyes as he drags a leg over the bench, sitting to face you as Sirius occupies the space to your left before Harry can even sit down. He can’t even fathom how weird it is to see his parents as rambunctious teenagers. Lovesick, rambunctious teenagers.

“Morning, dove.” James preens under your glare, stealing a grape from your bowl with a boyish smirk. His hair looks as though he’s ran his hand through it many times. “You look ravishing today.”

“As always,” Sirius pipes in. “But that eyeshadow really isn’t complementing your skin tone, my darling.”

You smile at him, right before your lips twist into a cutthroat sneer. “Piss off, Black.”

James stifles a laugh as he shovels a mass of potatoes on your plate, then pumpkin pasties, and slides a steaming cup of Dragon Well tea in front of you.

“What the hell are you doing, Potter?” You reach over to smack his arm when he sprinkles apple slices and bacon on your breakfast.

“What does it look like?” James smiles lopsidedly. “You need to eat more, honey.”

(In the future, Sirius will tell Harry, “It started off as a joke, a way to get on her nerves — but then, it just became this thing about taking care of her, making sure she got enough sleep before her tests, wondering if she had breakfast or dinner, staying with her in the library, walking her to the Slytherin common room, and sending her stupid notes just to make her laugh. You don’t get it, Harry. I’d give my every breath to ensure her life. We all would.” Harry doesn’t see Sirius any more during that evening, but he hears a bottle crashing against a wall, cracking into a million pieces, and the masked sound of Sirius sobbing, and Harry decides to leave him alone for the night.)

Then, you tear your eyes away from James — he huffs, pushing your plate to you, mildly annoyed that you’ve deprived him of your eyes; they were his favorite part of you, you see, so expressive and full of life; James thinks you put the stars to shame — and thankfully, you remember that Harry still exists. You lightly smack Sirius’s leg until he gives Harry some room to sit. “Potter, meet other Potter. It’s the holidays, shouldn’t it be the perfect time to let go of House prejudices and spend time with family?”

James looks at Harry up and down. “You must be from dad’s side of the family with all that hair.”

Harry lets out a breath of relief. That was easy — way too easy. When he takes the vacant space in between you and Sirius, you dump all the available food on his plate, just as James had done for you.

“Eat,” You say with a tone of finality. “You look like the wind could snap you in half.”

“Yes, m—” Harry stops himself before he could finish his sentence, avoiding Sirius’s curious gaze.

“Wow.” Sirius pokes Harry in the shoulder and in the cheek. “You really look like a mini-James, you’ve even got his terrible eyesight.”

“Oi!”

Your fork clatters against the silverware as you turn to Sirius with a shrill. “Not that I do enjoy your company — because, trust me, I do not want you here at all and would very much prefer if you got out of my sight — but why are you here? The Gryffindor table is over there. Unless your housemates finally got sick of you, Potter, which I can definitely see happening.”

James chuckles, tossing another grape in his mouth without taking his eyes off you. “It’s as you said, isn’t it? It’s the time for putting aside House prejudices. And I think it’s a lovely day to enjoy a meal with my favorite snake.”

“Drop dead,” You retort, digging into your chicken with a little more force than necessary.

“Oh, dove.” James shakes his head, a teasing grin pulling at his lips. “It’s cute that you think death will keep me from you.”

(Harry’s been told before, probably by Sirius, that this line had been wedged into his wedding vows for you. “A dramatic one, James was,” Sirius chuckles to himself one morning, Harry and Hermione listening intently, “He always said he’d rather die than ever hurt her. There was this time in seventh year, they had a fight — it was ugly — and she had ignored him for a week. James cried in Remus’s arms begging him to cut his heart out, saying that he didn’t deserve to keep on breathing, not after making you cry.”)

“That is so creepy,” You say in disgust, scrunching your nose. Sirius chortles at your side. “I still wonder why Evans agreed to go out with you.”

“It’s all part of the charm, dove.” James winks. “It’s all part of the charm.”

Harry wants to barf, actually.

After breakfast, James then decides to introduce Harry to Lily, Remus, and Peter. (He’s gonna need the patience of a saint to not Avada Kedavra that rat on the spot.) Harry had spent the whole morning watching Sirius peel oranges and give them to you with a smitten look in his eyes — naturally, you gave whatever Sirius offered you to Harry, and each time Padfoot would visibly wilt. If he were in his Animagus form, Harry thinks he would be whining by now, tongue out and all. James and Sirius follow after you like lost puppies when you extricate yourself from the table.

“Where are you going?” James calls, hot on your heels as you leave the Great Hall.

“Away from you, Potter!”

And James actually sighs when you turn the corner and disappear from their peripheral vision. Seconds later, he turns to Harry with a blinding smile, “She’s definitely charmed.”

Harry chortles.

“Well, come on then!” James guffaws as he wraps an arm around Harry’s neck — this is so, so strange. They begin walking in the opposite direction of where you went. “I still can’t believe we’ve got another Potter here and in Slytherin. I think I would have remembered Minnie calling your name during the Sorting Ceremony. What year are you in?”

He’s supposed to start his sixth-year in a few weeks. “Fifth.” Technically.

“We should ask Lily,” says Sirius, hands in his pockets and ebony ringlets tickling his nape. “She’s got the best memory out of all of us.”

It’s odd, Harry thinks, meeting the person who’s got his eyes — or the other way around, as people have told him. It’s like someone carved out the emeralds of Lily Evans’s eyes and bestowed it upon Harry for safekeeping. She sits beside Remus Lupin, head resting on his shoulder, hands clasped together, as they enjoy the shade. Nex to them, oblivious to their intimate conversation, is Peter Pettigrew — with his rosy, cherub cheeks and innocent blue eyes; not at all the image of a pathological, cowardly liar. Their heads snap in attention as James boisterously cries for their name.

“Marauders — and Lily-pad — meet ickle Potter.” James lightheartedly whacks Harry on the back, to which Harry feels his lungs spill out from his mouth, he’s sure there’s an imprint of his father’s hand on his back now.

“There’s two Potters in Hogwarts?” Sea-green eyes look at him in scrutiny as Lily knits her brows. “How even is the castle still standing?”

James cackles like it’s the best joke he’s ever heard in his entire life, slapping his knee for dramatic effect. Oh, well, at least they’re buying Harry’s half-baked lie. At this point, it’s not even baked, it’s just wet, soggy, and poorly done. “Good one, Lily-pad!”

Sirius ruffles Remus’s shaggy blonde hair, canines bared in a wide grin. “This one here’s Moony, uptight prefect in the morning and absolute beast in the evening.”

Harry blanches. Surely he was talking about his furry problem, right? Right?

Remus doesn’t even flinch, just peels off Sirius’s hand from him and extends his hand out to Harry. “Please do not mind him. Remus Lupin, nice to meet you. Although, I can’t believe this is the first time we’ve met. We would have definitely remembered if we had another Potter in our midst.”

“It’s true, we Potters are just hard to forget,” says James, smiling cheekily.

Harry pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue. “Mum didn’t take the Potter name. I’m part Dursley. Muggle.”

Lily hums, toying at the ends of her bright hair. “Dursley, huh? What a familiar name.”

“It’s a common one,” Harry assures her — not at all the names of the people who would take him in after they died. And make his life miserable.

“I suppose you’re right,” says Lily, unconvinced.

“And this is Peter.” James introduces the boy eagerly, pride in his voice — as though this isn’t the person who literally allies himself with Voldemort. As if Peter won’t betray his friends all because of fear.

“N–Nice to meet you,” Peter stammers with a nervous fidget, “Any family of James is a friend of ours.”

Harry’s eye twitches.

IT IS ALMOST COMICAL — the way their eyes land on your figure, bursting through the courtyard from the corridors, winter cloak swishing with every step, tendrils of hair swaying in the crisp wind, and head held up high, thick books under your arms. You pause in front of the Marauders, face blank, then you turn to Peter, greeting him with a: “Hello, only Gryffindor I can tolerate.”

Peter’s cheeks burn a saccharine hue of pink. Oh, no, no, no — absolutely not — Harry will not stand for a little crush Peter Pettigrew has on his mother. He needs James to act now. “Hi,” Peter replies shyly.

Lily quirks her lips. “Hello, princess, see your score for the Astronomy test yet?”

You scowl. “Zip it, Evans.”

The sound of Lily’s laughter fills the atmosphere — it’s the sort of melody that makes flowers bloom in deserts. “Had a bit of difficulty with the star charts?”

Sirius pinches your cheek — Harry thinks you’re going to murder him on the spot. “Difficulty? I think this one just slept through the whole thing.”

James snickers. “Must have been one hell of a nap, princess. You were drooling on my jumper.”

“I most certainly do not drool!” You gasp, appalled, eyes wide as you step away from Sirius.

Sirius rolls his eyes. “What? Is drooling too barbaric for the pretty, little pure-blooded princess now? Newsflash, pet, you’re just as human as we are.”

“Oh, you horrible, loathsome, infuriating—” You whip around to beat his chest with the course book in your grasp — it’s the kind of book Hermione would consider for light reading.

“Irresistibly attractive—?” Sirius supplies for you, grin widening with as he captures your wrist with his hands.

“In your dreams!” You shrill.

You exhale slowly, eyes closing, chest rising when you take a sharp inhale. You open your eyes and stare straight at Harry — for a moment he fears that you’ll bite his head off. “Harry, dear, will you accompany me to the library? I think I’ve found something important regarding your situation.”

Harry nods. “Is it time already?”

“Yes,” You say firmly. “And time is of the essence. Come on.”

“Wait!” Lily calls out to you as you turn to head back to the castle, Harry in tow — he tries to avoid the way James is glaring at your linked arms. “Hogsmeade next week?”

Your jaw falls to the ground — this must have been unrehearsed, if the others’ reactions were anything to go by; Remus had dropped his book in shock, Sirius looked like he couldn’t decide between applauding Lily’s bravery or shaking her, and James was somehow frozen in time. “Excuse me?”

“You’re excused, princess,” says Lily, dimples poking out of her cheek as she takes another step towards you. “You, me, Hogsmeade. A date. I’m sure you’ve gone on one of those before.”

Harry elbows your stomach as you stare at Lily in shock. It takes a few moments to break you out of your stupor. “A–And what makes you think I’ll just go with you?”

Lily shrugs. “I’m fit. Aren’t I, Remus?”

“The fittest,” says Remus without missing a beat.

You laugh incredulously. “Do you just expect me to go along with this? You’re mad, Evans.”

Harry glares at you. You need to go along with this.

“Are you scared, princess?” Lily’s face is inches away from yours, noses almost touching — Harry doesn’t know if he should keep watching this painful way of flirting — as she grins at you, happiness barely contained within her eyes.

To your credit, you don’t back down. (Harry has to say this for the masses: he saw your gaze flitter down to Lily’s lips for a split second.) “Stop calling me that, Evans.”

“One date, then.”

You growl in exasperation, eyes flickering to the boys behind her back — pretending not to hear their conversation. “I suppose I’ll have to deal with them as well?”

Lily beams and Harry swears sunflowers could grow in her direction. “We’re a package deal.”

“Unfortunately,” You utter — but Harry notices it, the lack of venom in your voice. You straighten your posture, nose lifted haughtily, “I choose where we’re going.”

“Done.” The sun peeks out from the cloud just as Lily smiles at you.

“And I want to—”

“Done,” Remus interjects raspily, peering up at you from underneath his lashes. “Anything you want, it’s yours.”

You fight a growing smile, but continue, “If we’re going out in public, you’re going to have to wear—”

“Done,” says James giddily, he looks as though he could kiss you in front of everyone without a care in the world.

“You can’t just agree to anything I say!” You flap your arms in frustration.

“Yes, dear,” Sirius teases.

“Do you know how much you piss me off, Black?” You squawk. “Because you are this close to—”

“You are so fucking beautiful,” Sirius confesses, every pretense shed raw from his skin, sincerity pouring from his words.

“I—” You falter, heat rushing to your cheeks. “You’ve gone mad.”

“It’s your fault, dove,” says James, eyes twinkling like crescent moons as he smiles. “You best take accountability for this.”

“You’re incorrigible — all of you,” You say as you avoid their gazes.

(But they were yours. Past, present, and future. They loved you so much that their soul was no longer their own — it was yours; yours to keep, yours to break, and yours to love. It would be unjust to ask them why they loved you. Do we ask why the sun rises each day without rest? Do we ask a daisy to stop blooming, or a tree to stop growing after it has endured storms and floods? After all, we do not ask why humans follow the light in a tunnel shrouded in darkness.)

“Come on, Harry, let’s go.” You reach for his hand, he notices immediately that the tips of your ears are pink, and your palms are warm with sweat. He barely sees Peter wave goodbye before you tug him in the direction of the castle entrance.

“Wait up!” Remus catches up to you two in quick strides, offering to carry your books for you — not that you agree, stubborn Slytherin that you are. “I’ll walk you to the library.”

“There’s no need for that, Lupin, thank you.” You dodge his eyes, lips tightly pressed together, nails slightly digging into Harry’s arm.

“Remus,” He says with a twinkle. “Call me Remus.”

“Alright.” You pause. “Remus.”

(In that moment, Remus wonders if you remember decking Lucius Malfoy in the face to defend him in your fourth year. He didn’t think he deserved to even breathe in the same air as you — the pure-blooded princess, dressed in clothing worth more than his life, adorned in jewelry he could only dream to afford, raised to believe she was better than everyone else. Then, you beat up Evan Rosier the next month in the courtyard, eyes ablaze, extravagant silk marred with grass stains and mud, and knuckles split open. You spit blood on the ground, looking at Lily then back at Rosier. “Red,” You say, kicking him one last time in the stomach, unafraid of McGonagall’s wrath growing louder and louder. “Just like everyone else. Like those Muggleborns you fear. We’ve all got dirty blood, Rosier. Suck it up.”

“I’ll tell your father about this!” Rosier bellows through bloody teeth.

“Tell him!” You grab his neck and slam your forehead against his. “Tell him that I decide my own future now!”

Remus doesn’t even have to think about it.

He falls in love.)

FUNNILY ENOUGH, IT’S LILY who gives you her heart first, before anyone else does. It’s the last month of her first year at Hogwarts — it still hasn’t quite sunk in yet that she was a witch. Her, not Petunia, but her — Lily Evans, the witch. Apparently, some people can’t believe it either. A girl from Ravenclaw calls her this foul word, she’s heard it a few times now but it always hurts the same. James and Sirius get into a fight for her honor, now faced with detention later this evening. But she can’t help but wonder, what if they were right? What if she really didn’t belong in this world? It was too good to be true, anyway. Perhaps she’ll just run a flower boutique with Petunia.

“Oi.”

The sound of your voice startles her, and she nearly topples over in the Great Lake. Lily catches sight of your Slytherin colors and resigns herself to another round of name-calling. “What do you want?”

“They’re wrong, you know,” You tell her, ignoring Lily’s question. You look down on her with your nose raised arrogantly — she wishes she could be like you. Born to be magic. “You’ve got a terrifying brain locked up in your head there, Evans. And they know it, too. They’re scared.”

Lily scoffs. “I’m just a Mudblood to them. There’s nothing to be intimidated by.”

You sneer. “Don’t say that word. You’re more than that. More than them. They’ve got long ways to go to prove they have a place in this world. But you — you’ve defied the odds and you were destined to become magic. You don’t have to prove anything. You have the right to be in the wizarding world and no one can take that away from you.”

Then, you pivot on your heels, not bothering to hear her reply. “You’re my rival now, Evans. Do keep up. We’ve got an Astronomy test tomorrow. I look forward to seeing how you do then.”

Lily just gapes. She’s certain there’s butterflies in her stomach. Her heart thumps wildly against her ribcage. Lily raises her hands to feel her blushing cheeks. There’s a light unfamiliar sensation in her stomach — like the urge to kick her legs and scream into a pillow, or more precisely, chase after you and hold your hand.

She stiffens.

Oh.

part two

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