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eldrith · 3 days ago

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˗ˏˋ Dead Men Don't Sing ˎˊ˗ Jacaerys Velaryon

jacaerys velaryon x fem!stark!reader words: 9.5k requested: yes synopsis: “it is rather custom to marry within the bloodline,” jacaerys admits, hesitating, “but there are other duties,” he murmurs, “–ones that even the Gods cannot ignore.” notes: thank you to the anon who requested this, it was months and months ago <3 i found this written and dusty in my drafts and realized how much i liked the concept of it so i finished it up, changed up a lot of plot (sry). peace & love (thinking abt when @softspiderling said that cregan & r had chemistry in this fic. fuck you) warnings: canon-typical marriage betrothals. something something heavy belief in the divine right of kings (cringe!), jace is so in love again guys, fluff and flirting, feelings of anxiety & worry, heavy on politics and the targaryen prophecy. doubts of magic and light religious tones. kissing. requests closed. masterlist.

THE CRYPTS BELOW WINTERFELL ECHO WITH FOOTFALL.

A dripping thing, echoing through low ceiling and sliding over stoned walls; your pace moves slow, measured.

Aboveground yields a morning snow; it is no harvest season, yet you worry so of the rime which curls its way over the tender shoots of crop; kissing a delicate crust atop glacial lakes in the near distance, lining the roofs across Winter Town.

Down below such crust of earth, the crypt holds no true warmth, instead boasting a rather eerie silence; though you’ve always felt drawn to such quietude in certain times – moments punctuated only by the rustle of fur cloaks, the steady drip of tallow wax candles that burn beneath the proud visages of ancient stone.

A gentle sigh escapes your lips.

Your breath, barely visible in the cold, dissipates like a whisper of a cloak around a corner; The man beside you paces with deliberate slowness, though still his long strides force you to quicken your own.

A familiar rhythm from childhood.

He broods – or perhaps merely reflects; it is difficult to tell, though his introspection proves an unwelcome distraction and concern alike.

“You think far too loudly, brother.”

Your voice, a stone dropped onto the serenity of a glassy pond; stirring, your brother beside you lets out a soft huff of amusement, turning to glance at your profile. "Aye, it seems I do,” he acquiesces, though he seems more than content to leave it as such.

And the ensuing quiet – his scrutiny of your features becoming almost unsettling. You purse your lips, folding your arms over the furs that ward off the chill, slowing to a halt – he, in turn, slowing beside you.

“Cregan,” you cast a guarded glance his way, “I appreciate your company, but…” You pause, clearing your throat, “Why did you ask me here?”

You cannot ignore the furrow of his brow, nor the weary sigh that escapes him. “I do not wish to burden you with troubles, sister,” he murmurs, his gaze drifting – mindful of spirits; watching, listening. “But there is something we must discuss.”

You, softly gesturing for him to continue under the flicker of torchlight.

Yet, he does not speak at once; instead, guiding you further along the shadowed path. You allow him the moment of silence, a foreboding drop stirring unbidden in your chest. Has the time come to prepare for the Wall – will you set the Greybeards alone to fight in the Southern war? Dribbling wax slides over the edge of a wyck - a white tear falling to the frozen earth below. Winter is coming, you know; and so does war.

You stop before a weathered stone – Cregan, his face so hardened even with young age; you recall in the earliest recess of your memories a more youthful visage – the brother who dangled you by the ankle in the Great Hall; who dragged you along to target practice in the yards, who met your gaze with mirth when you were scolded at the dinner table. Much has changed.

“A raven came from Dragonstone this morning,” his voice is steady – the mention flares a mild concern in you; your brows furrow.

“Different from the letter that arrived at my chambers just moments ago?” You wonder – the scroll was penned by Prince Jacaerys; though this is an occasion not extremely uncommon, as you’ve grown to write to him often in the past months of his departure.

But your brother nods. “Aye.” He affirms, “It was signed by Queen Rhaenyra.”

You blink up at him, breath bated – palms, growing moist though the cold nips gently at your nose: Never has the Queen herself sent letter by raven. Cregan utters your name, and you meet his gaze.

“Prince Jacaerys has asked for your hand in marriage.”

Of the many possibilities you’d imagined, this was not one of them; shivers of flattery over your spine, quivering your breast in an icy shock.

And a scroll unread, perched upon your drawing table in your quarters – has Jace written to you to ask you himself? Your lip, plump under the pressure of your teeth.

Though not wholly unpleasant, it is still a sudden shock to you, and your mouth opens – then closes with a soft click. You find yourself momentarily lost for words.

A breath, warm against the cold, escaping your mouth, fingers restless within your thick gloves. “Did–” You pause, clearing your throat, willing your heart to steady its foolish race. “Have you sent a response?”

A flicker in an otherwise stoic facade, gone in an instant: Some amusement laced into his visage that vexes you in a way only a sibling can.

Quietly, your brother denies. “It was requested by the Prince for you to send a response yourself. The Queen wishes to be assured this is a marriage that will bring strength to the realm – one that will be strong from the beginning. She does not choose the future queen regent lightly, it seems.”

A heat that grows twofold; and a sprouting dizziness as the proposal hits you. The future queen regent – Gods be good.

The proposition is far from traditional.

As the sister of the Warden of the North, you have always assumed your path would lead to a marriage with one of the High Lords of your own region – though with great war comes change, you understand well – and Cregan has mentioned it satisfactory to find a Targaryen princess among your House; perhaps you and Jacaerys will serve in such a steed.

A glance to the stone man before you; an ode, to Torrhen Stark. The King Who Knelt.

A shiver of reality. Leave Winterfell, as a Targaryen bride – to go to the war brewing in the South – and there grows a flicker, beneath your concern. Hunger, pride.

You’ve always known what’s expected of you; and Starks do not shy nor cower from responsibility.

“This is no small task.” Your words, quite blunt as they often are – another nod from Cregan.

“I remind you,” He assures, “It is no done deal.”

A flicker of your lashes as your breath clouds before you; above your head, you wonder if the flakes which flutter from the sky have ceased in the wake of the day’s far sun.

It is indeed a thought to consider; the North, your endless horizon of snow and stone – of moors and fields, of steep slopes and commanding eminences, carved by the hands of gods more ancient than the first of men.

That cold kiss of wintered forests, of towering pines in snowed shadows; gnarled branches of the Wolfswood, icy rivers of threaded silver untouched by the frills of southern decadence; and the cold less endured than revered, a landscape of beauty drawn within the fierce devotion of its people.

An unshakeable and profound sense of soul that tugs you towards the frozen earth, to the bodies brought back through turns of Winters, of endurance, of love, of life.

“I would mislike to leave Winterfell,” You admit; a child once more, tucking toes beneath warmed covers as you hid from shadows upon walls.

Perhaps he recalls those same nights; when you’d stayed awake against the syrupy droop of eyelids, listening to your Lord father’s tales of hunts and beasts beyond your comprehension.

“As would I regret to let you leave,” His voice comes after a moment. “Your insight is not to be understated. Perhaps this is why the Queen wishes you to join her council in my stead.”

Another shock to you – to marry the Prince, yes, but to join the Queen’s council? A flash of pride, conspicuous, licking up your spine – though you’re lost in the trappings of memory; of loss, of life.

“What is it father said?” You muse quietly, watching shadows flicker over a contoured face of stone. “The South…Where men smile with daggers behind their backs.”

Some huff from weary lips. “I hold no concern for how you might fare against a dagger, sister.” He reminds you; your fingers, calloused in the grooves of a longbow – you placate a wry huff, mind saturated with thoughts. “A serpent's lair, the Crownlands are.” He gruffs.

It is solemnly that you nod; a wistful memory of your Prince, curls entangled with the sharp wind, embedding pearled snowflakes into tresses.

“I am not without my own doubts,” Cregan slowly admits, “Leaving the North – in wartime, as well – holds few assurances of safety, even at Dragonstone.”

Your voice is considerably less steadfast than it’d been an hour past, when you’d directed the letter from the Prince to wait until your duties with Lord Stark were through – “I would not leave my home, my charge, merely for some Prince.” You mutter.

Yet, the glance from your brother brings a small grin to your lips.

He perhaps agrees with your stubborn resolve; you two, cut and sewn from the same sturdy cloth, borne with the same pelts upon your back. A tilt in his visage, looking at you.

“Our father’s word was given. It is our duty to uphold it.” He murmurs; and then, a melting of such a look – as if Lord Stark has retreated, yielding Cregan in his wake: “You’d be queen one day, long after the war.”

Still reeling, a warmth to your face as you consider the Prince – rosy cheeks, with that smile brighter than snow; he, with a fur cloak gifted to him in his visit to treat with your brother those months ago – a regal face, if you’ve the grace to know what such a thing is.

The boy with kind words and genuine laughter; a fleeting brush of his hand on yours as he’d greeted you to his ancient beast; The square of his shoulders as he’d solidified Northmen for his Queen mother’s banners. A look, shattered and wet, as he mounted his beast in the wake of his brother’s death. Septa’s voice from the vestiges of adolescence: Heavy is the crown, my dear.

“It is my duty,” you murmur more to yourself than to your brother, “To Winterfell, to the North. To our Queen… and the realm.”

Cregan’s hand finds your shoulder in a grasp, “Sister.” Your eyes meet his own. “I would not have you do it if I did not believe it was the right choice. Jace is a good man. He will treat you right.”

Indeed, a union of your house and the Prince’s would strengthen the North; you could ensure the maintenance of autonomy – and loyalty, a venerable duty long upheld by your house for hundreds of years. A marriage that serves not only your people, but such enduring legacy of kin.

“Just as well,” He adds, “the prospect of marrying Jacaerys might prove rather agreeable to your sensibilities, would it not?”

He jests. The corner of your eyes narrow as you shoot him a sharp look; a smile emerging despite your efforts to conceal it. The warmth of anticipation creeps across your cheeks, a delicate flush across your face despite your valiant efforts to contain it.

"You overreach, brother,” you speak, though both you and he can hear the fondness in your voice.

A quiet moment, in which a memory surfaces – Jacaerys, bidding you farewell months past; a pain in his eyes, ragged with grief and urgency to return – his younger brother, killed by Aemond One-Eye.

A shaky kiss upon your knuckles, the cracking of a voice otherwise proud; the last glance of that massive beast swallowed up by the clouds. Your heart skips a beat at the knowledge of him, as your own.

“I will marry Prince Jacaerys,” You agree, hoping to conceal the eagerness from your tone, “...for the good of the realm."

Cregan huffs, pulling you into a brief embrace, your eyes both stuck on the statue before you. "Aye, and perhaps a bit of warmth for your heart, too.” He jests; a rare occurrence, and certainly in these days of war and the eve of winter.

“Is that not what you’d wish for your sister?” You jest in return, hiding the fluster of your cheeks.

His expression sobers minutely. “You bring honor to our house.”

The long, stone face of Torrhen Stark watches your breath rise and fall from your lips.

Hesitance melts away, leaving a giddiness, a sense of duty softened by an affection in your heart. “A wolf in the South,” you murmur.

And a dragon at her side.

VERMAX IS RATHER DISPLEASED TO FLY NORTH AGAIN.

Huffs and whining screeches; saged scales that melt tiny flakes of snow around the saddle - Jacaerys consoles his steed with a huff of amusement. “Se iōrves kessa daor umbagon syt mirre, Vermax.” He insists; The cold will not last forever.

It is not until the sloping valleys and rolling mountains give way to dusting of snowcaps and frozen-earth that his stomach begins to burn with that odd feeling; excitement.

Trees that reach up towards the heavens – ever green in their life, barely stirred by the beating of Vermax’s wings high above.

Otherworldly, the North is; and Winterfell, with towering walls, sprawling courtyards, the frosted roofs that glint even through the thick of cloud – pure earth, that ancient knowledge within the ground, held for thousands of years past. Wisdom, sewn into rings upon rings within trees – depths of icy pools, glistening cold as glacier’s tears even in the dead of summer.

Something, an aching feeling returns; not an ache for home, but for you.

Eyes, amber and anticipatory, searching the grounds so far below – a wall, dark and thick in the sprawl of the low cirque. Vermax breaks through the clouds with a call, the whipping Northern wind blowing icy shards into Jacaerys’ inhale. Still, he looks with a fire, an intent – battlements, courtyards, all bustling and brimming.

The familiar banner of black and red, raised by the men sent weeks ahead in anticipation of the Prince’s arrival – and the Stark banner, hanging large enough to just see from the outskirts of Winter Town.

The East Gate opens; a company awaits his arrival, bustling in the yard of the Great Keep – squinting against sharp air as Vermax circles in agitated descent. It is an odd thing, to see the expressions of men, women, and children become clearer in descent – to see the fear, the astonishment, the reverence in the ancient being in the sky. But he searches each visage turned up towards him; and then, there – with a grin and a flip in Jacaerys’ stomach, he finds you.

Piled, swathed in thick furs that bring out your hair; standing straight beside your mass of a brother; a warmth that blossoms into heat as your head tilts, tracking Vermax in the sky.

A heavy thud against the muddy ground encrusted with a fresh layer of crisp rime; the rich shades of green across the North have been kissed by some fae of frost that barely cowers under the heat of his ancient creature – and though it retreats in his molten wake, Vermax huffs at the feeling of frost and snow.

Jace dismounts Vermax; pressing his forehead to the dragon’s thick neck, the warmth a final solace before he faces the unforgiving weather of the North – a mutter to his steed, running his palm over the scales, “Sȳz, vermax. Ao ipradtis; ao gōntan sōvegon sȳrī.”

Good, Vermax. You must eat; you flew well.

He is accompanied, then; two dragonhandlers bowing to him, draped in borrowed furs as they tend to his weary beast. It is rather comfortable, to hand him off to them; a luxury, he supposes, when they are here to tend to the Valyrian rituals that will come in just over a week’s time. A skip in his heart as he thinks of the night to come: You and he, bound for life.

His title is announced in the quiet of the Keepyard; he enters, feeling rather foolish as just one man faced with such a company – his eyes, unable to unstick themselves from you. The young Lady Stark; the Northern Star, some have called you; He finds himself agreeing.

Head high, he walks as the prince he is, nodding to Lord Cregan; Formal proceedings that are blinked away in moments with a very present preoccupation of trying to keep his stare off your face.

And then, after a lingering moment, ravens circling the sky, wind howling down the slopes of distant mountains, Cregan steps forward, arm extended – Jacaerys returns his grin, a camaraderie returning in his chest.

In the grasp of his forearm, in the rough hug he shares with his friend, Lord Stark murmurs. “I see now why you were so reluctant to leave the first time, my Prince.” Cregan’s voice, rich with mirth; a sheepish grin that grows upon Jacaerys’ expression. Laughter between them, as easy as it ever was, the weariness that’d built in Jace’s flight northward dissipating. “I’ve been told a wise man knows when he’s found something worth returning to, Lord Stark,” Jace quips in response, the heat on his face deepening when his gaze darts in a glance towards you. Your brow, lifted at his words; full of grace but with a smattering of warmth across your cheeks, a small smile.

The cold air seems to have brought a flush to you – dipping into a graceful curtsey, the wolf clasp of your cloak catches in the cloudy light of afternoon. His heart flips as you greet him: “My Prince,” and gods, your voice – “I hope you and Vermax found no undue hardship enduring such a journey.”

It’s all Jacaerys can afford to bow deeply in return, eyes remaining on your own gaze; a gesture of respect and courteousness, but a strike of something far more personal lingering behind his stare. Your palm is bare, he’s shocked to see; and lifted within his own, his lips brush over your knuckles.

Your cheeks darken, and he feels his heart race. “The purpose is far worth the journey, my Lady.” His voice, earnest, polite.

Your smile widens just so.

THE GREAT HALL IS DOUSED WITH LIT HEARTHS.

The celebration is a swell feast – Jacaerys sits, having dined on a hearty meal and several goblets of wine: Roasted game, honeyed bread, mulled wine. At the high table he sits, and the din of the hall rumbles around him, drifting slowly into the high-beamed ceiling.

A lingering storm has momentarily lifted in the warmth of familiar faces, of the unrelenting bite of cold that still yet lingers in bones weary from flight. There is a dread that has stayed within Jacaerys for many turns of moon now – a mourning thing, one that has left him with less and less smiles to divulge with each passing day.

The horizon brews; a clouded thing, one dark and full of smoke and whispers – and yet here he sits, warmed by furs, by hearth, by ale – and by you, aside him.

A girl no older than himself – a friendship kindled merely in the beginnings of formality, of happenstance; polite smiles and high chins, eyes lingering as he followed your brother into the study.

A peculiar thing it is now, to sit beside you, to feel that string pull between you so inevitably; and though he is turned away from your warmth, well engrossed in a discussion with Lord Stark, he feels that tension – that tautness that soon will be severed with unseen shears, which will seal a dream conjured years before your birth.

And throughout the evening, his gaze has more than often wandered to your own visage, carved in those same harsh winds of beauty – a smile warm and true, a depth sinking into his stomach; for as Jacaerys has dined heartily, his appetite for food has given way to an appetite for conversation.

The hall boasts cheer, laughter; an odd thing, in the tide of coming war, in coming strife even this far North; the Lord returns to the Wall not even a fortnight after the wedding, and with him goes half the rations of crops saved through the Northern harvest.

With Jacaerys will go his new wife – and with you, a secret untold to any but those who sit the throne.

The fire in the hearth is great, and it swallows Jacaerys’ eyes as he sips from his cup; licks of flames, screams unheard through halls – the final breath of many, the staggering gasp of death.

Outside, snow blows harsh and cold against the walls – a breath of winter, howling and iced.

It is a song that lingers in Jacaerys’ mind, even as the music inside the hall crescendos and the ale flows; and finally, he is torn from his trance with the departure of a lord from White Harbor from before you, leaving you finally by your lonesome.

Jacaerys turns to you – and at his stirring, you glance to his hoping gaze; your cheeks warmed in the same breath as his own, you glow in the firelight.

He gestures gently before you, towards the hall brimming with people, “A celebration in our honor, yet it seems finding a moment alone has proven rather difficult.” His voice remains as warm as he’d hoped, though evergreen and mantled by duties, by composure. And you, a flower of grace and stoicism, nod kindly - he's always found the dance of formalities to be amusing.

“It seems the whole land has anticipated your arrival once more, Prince Jacaerys.” Your voice is tinged with that same warmth he remembers from those moons ago.

He ought to accept your kindness with compliment; or perhaps ask how the owl that’d nested in the rook outside your chambers during his last visit fares – but indeed he is met with that insistence of passing time, of his mother’s words fallen onto his shoulders; of a whispered dream of years to pass and years still to come.

When he looks at your visage, honeyed by the glow of firelight, some warmth mixes shockingly with an icy knowledge of what is to come.

“It has been too long since we last met,” He says - and, perhaps in a moment of insecurity, his lip is bitten and pulled from pearled teeth. “I have missed your company.”

He does not miss the soft growth of affection that blossoms upon your countenance, nor the shift in your hips as you turn to face him more, your fingers absently tracing the rim of your goblet in a mirror of his own nervous habit.

“And I have missed yours,” your voice is equally quiet to his own, in some conspiratorial hope to remain private while remaining in a room full of guests. Your lip is caught between your teeth just as his was – he wishes to unfurl it with the soft of his thumb. “Though, I confess, it is strange to know that soon we will no longer need ravens to speak to one another.”

A soft chuckle from his lips – a thought indeed that crossed his mind after sending his last raven Northward; and in the shadow of looming war, what a relief it may be to have you beside him.

If he were any more a fool, Jacaerys might worry indeed for your safety in the coming times – and though that thought lingers still in the stoop of his mind, he is no more ignorant to your abilities than he is admiring them.

A memory, one of fresh falling snow and the youthful innocence of only half-year ago; before the shift of tides, before the moonlit jaws of Death found his brother – before the death of the young one in the Red Keep, and the fall of Rhaenys and Meleys just days ago at Rooks Rest; before it all, when still the horizon brimmed with a more peaceful hope for settled war, there was time of laughter. Of a hunt drawn about for a Royal Guest in Winterfell, when he came with wishes of an alliance, of oaths sworn in blood and brotherhood. The hunt brought anticipation - and, in his foolish Southern ways, Jacaerys had wondered if you’d see he and your brother off in the courtyard of Winterfell – perhaps with a favour of yours to gift him, and a kiss upon his cheek for well-hunting.

It was not such delicate smiles and whispers he was met with; no, instead he found another horse, saddled with your frame and a bright grin upon your face, your hair plaited away from your peripherals and a longbow strewn across your back.

A fond memory, those days watching you traipse across snowstruck Wolfswood – and the snap of a string, the fall of a buck into the earth below. Your grin, your appearance; so unlike your kin, and yet so shared in hardiness with your brother – a warmth now so foreign in a world laced by such ominous ideas as fate.

Jacaerys chuckles at the memory, and also at your words, sobering as they are light. “Strange,” He repeats, tilting his head to you. “-But welcome, I’d hope?”

And though it is a tease sent with the efforts of putting the thick tension of betrothal at ease, there still lingers a fear of the answer; and a leak of hesitance in his words.

When you hold his gaze for a moment, he nearly doubts the flicker of affection that still drips from your rosy cheeks. But your expression softens, and your earnesty is undeniable. “Of course,” You beam and it sends his heart into a flutter, “It will be quite welcome.”

And it is in this moment, a quiet one, that Jacaerys nearly cracks; a split that would leak out the foreboding world of prophecies, of danger and fear and worry – if only in search of some comfort, of some assurance that the truths he lives are merely the whisperings of a bloodline destined to rule.

Though he loses the moment when you turn to the revelry before you; and Cregan rises from his seat beside Jacaerys, drawing his attention away from blistering flames and flurries of chill that strike through his heart.

YOU FIND A MOMENT TO CATCH YOUR BREATH IN THE MORNING.

The sun is high in the sky for such an early hour; perhaps a reflection through of the sheet of thin gray which stretches from one horizon to the other. A sweet light over the rather empty training grounds – and your skirts drag along snow as you brush hair from your cheek, nocking another arrow.

The target, more than plenty paces away, is riddled with arrows from your work – the bow in your hands, warm and smelted to the form of your grip, carries that same woody scent from youth. You draw back with an inhale.

Though you know very soon of a presence in the morning courtyard; You can feel the gaze upon you as soon as he enters. And with a small tremble, it occurs to you – no matter where the Prince goes, it seems you can always feel him near.

You resist a small grin, exhaling as you release the arrow; it embeds itself into the center of the target, a light thud that presses your heart against your ribs.

Jacaerys watches you; this, you know – and you nock yet another arrow.

The prince leans rather casually against a post just a few paces to your right, though there is little casual about the heat of his stare upon you – your glance is merely through the side of your lashes, a short thing in effort to pretend you are less effected by his presence.

Though, you cannot deny the burning in your cheeks, a determination in your throat as you draw the bowstring once more.

A murder of ravens scatter across the sky to the South – you let the arrow fly; It notches just to the right of your previous shot. A smile, tugging the corner of your lips once more before you drop your arms, glancing to your audience.

“Impressive as ever, my lady,” Jacaerys muses; his gaze is imbued by lashes and the sun, though there is some esteem within his stare that brings a flutter to your stomach.

Impressive.

A heat on your cheeks – as if you’re a blushing little maiden, complimented for the very first time. Though, you remind yourself, he’s spent his life in the highest courts of the land; he himself squired for many years, acquiring fair skill in such trades – and you hum, mind filled with visions of men from all stretches of the realm and beyond – jousts, tourneys, all to show at the King’s court.

“Well,” You brush the hair from your cheek once more against the faint wind, nocking and drawing a fresh arrow, much less focused this time, aware of his gaze burning through your frame. “I’m sure Southern men like you have seen feats far more impressive.” You tease, eyes locked down the line of the arrow.

Jacaerys huffs a small laugh at your jest, stepping further into the training yard. The wind blows, and you wonder if you should have taken another fur; but his voice is warm and you are put at ease.

“Perhaps,” He agrees, voice nearing your focus, “But some Southern men certainly know to appreciate what we cannot find back home.”

You’re lucky you’ve released the arrow just as he finishes his sentence; your stomach flips, butterflies sprouting within your chest at his gentle flattery. He is quite the charmer - and though you find amusement in his attempt, still grows your warmth at the attention.

It is still in the courtyard, and Jacaerys nods toward the target, where your arrow has hit the mark. An approving hum, brows lifted to underscore some coming point: “Like a woman who can outshoot any knight in the realm.”

A blatant praise – and you lower your bow, hoping to suppress the blush creeping up your cheeks. “Why don’t you try your hand?” you suggest, your tone teasing in attempt to flit such fluster upon the Prince instead.

He grins in a way that brings to mind a time less full of strife – always one for a friendly back-and-forth; Hands upon the hilt of his sword, Jacaerys shakes his head. “I’m not foolish enough to challenge you, my lady. I’ve learned to respect northern steel – be it by sword or arrow.”

You tilt your head, unable to school such a playful glint in your eyes. “So you’ve come all this way just to be bested by a woman?”

A provocation; perhaps testing the waters. And it shows in his expression, the stark divergence between your brother’s personality and your own; you suspect he is pleased with the opportunity.

His grin, as you’d hoped, only widens – cheeks reddened by the morning chill, eyes bright against the sun. “I’d consider it quite an honor.” A flick of his gaze to the target and back.

A roll of your eyes – highly inappropriate for a lady, especially to the Prince - but he only seems to find it more amusing. The smile tugs at your lips; you tamper it with your teeth, “I don’t believe flattery helps your aim, Jace.”

At his nickname, his cheeks seem to glow – a name he’d insisted you’d call him in the dark solitude of the Godswood during his initial visit to Winterfell those many moons ago.

He shakes his head, ever the charming Prince: “My aim is of no consequence. I am more than content to watch you hit the mark every time.”

The space between you has begun to narrow, and you can just make out the freckles which kiss the bridge of his nose. You hold the bow to him, “Come now, my prince.” You insist – and he acquiesces, stepping forward with a growing smirk.

You, in effort to see the blush upon his cheeks again, send him a smile. “Aim for the center, and you might impress me.”

The look he gives you is mildly amused; his shoulders, proud and brushing against yours as he handles your weapon. Deft fingers wrap around the bow as he tries to mimic your stance; and it is rather clear, as it’s been the handful of times you’ve seen him in the yard sparring, that he is far more comfortable with a sword in his hand than a bow.

And your smile grows at this; the heir to the Iron Throne, trying to impress you with a weapon that is not his own.

Your amusement is not so concealed; in a moment, he glances to you and huffs, arms still stretched to aim for the target. “I see your confidence growing, my lady,” he chides, and you lift a brow – he grins boyishly, eyes returning to the target, “Perhaps you mean to humble me.”

A feigned thoughtfulness as you tilt your head, tresses of silken hair glinting against your furs, “Humble you, Jace?” You feign surprise, blossoming at the growing smile upon his countenance, “That seems an impossible task.”

There's a warmth lying low beneath your jest – and whatever sharpness delivers with your wit is softened by the candid affection you hold for your newly betrothed. He laughs, and it is a song you wish to remember for the rest of your years.

His cheeks are that same very pink you’ve cherished for many moons - and he lets the arrow fly; though it strikes the target, it lands fingers shy of the center, and you conceal a laugh.

Your prince sends you a look, and though his mouth opens with some likely sharp words of humility, he is interjected by another voice in the yard.

“–Impressive,” Cregan’s voice cuts through the morning wind, startling you and Jacaerys alike. Jacaerys turns, hands lowering the bow as he nods almost sheepishly; Cregan steps closer – an expression only mildly imbued with amusement.

He regards you first, then your betrothed. “I see our prince has found a new skill.”

Flustered as though caught stealing wine from the feast table, you busy yourself adjusting the bowstring; and though Jacaerys chuckles, the sound is tight.

“It seems I’ll need more practice,” He says easily, eyes flickering to your own warm gaze and leaping away when heat creeps onto your cheeks. Cregan merely claps him on the shoulder, a grin small and amused upon his visage, “Come with me, then. You’d best not distract my sister.”

A sheepish glance with hot cheeks between you and Jacaerys before you bow to him, sending a sharp glance to your brother.

The two leave you to your practice in search of a hearth in which to discuss before; and you nod to them, cheeks alight and eyes trailing over the silver dragon holding together the Prince’s furs.

THE DAY JACAERYS TELLS YOU IS A DAY BROUGHT ON BY A SQUALL OF ICE AND SNOW.

Since his arrival, days have fallen in succession of clear skies and silent winds; and with the weather has brought a change in your betrothed. You have spent most days watching frost curl over begging pines from your chamber windows with growing unease - though your warmth is still shared well and kind between you, Jacaerys grows agitated in his time away from the war; a thing you understand too well, and wish to ease in the coming days.

And, unlike the days of his arrival, there is too much to do now to any longer relish in the still-present small moments – the times which bring in the smell of holly and pine, of clove and spiced wine, of wide smiles and the steaming scales of your betrothed’s ancient accompaniment.

The wedding has been planned – and in only a few more days, you and Jacaerys will become one; you will whisper words long thought and wondered, you will bind your palms, you will share your blood.

Though in no way unsure of the union, still lingers the presence of something unspoken – in the growingly distant amber eyes, in the insecure stuttering of words, in the shaky palm which soothes over your own underneath leathered gloves. It seems Jacaerys furrows his brow in riddles more and more these days – and a darkness follows, some weight that brings his lips to drop and his voice to taper in the ends of sentences.

You have begun to wonder once more why indeed a union between you and Jacaerys was so suddenly proposed by the Queen.

Your breath shows against the casement; The day has brought with it more than a chill – and in search of an excuse, you wonder if the Prince has drawn a large enough hearth, if he has found furs thick enough to stave the chill. Yourself, a girl sewn and grown from Northern soils, still finds a strike of shiver from your veins when you rise from your own hearth; and so, with a small flash of worry and a gathering of pelts from your own bed, you set off to the guest quarters.

JACAERYS SITS BEFORE HIS HEARTH.

He welcomes you with a nod and a gesture to join him upon the settee; you deposit the armful of furs upon his bed with a gentle breath and murmured words – and though it is well into the morning by now, Jacaerys looks as though sleep evaded him in the night previous – teeth-bitten lips, mussed curls, a heavy gaze that lingers upon the melting flakes of snow in your hair.

It is only moments of gentle conversation; a tale of the nesting owl above your chambers that brings a gleaming smile to Jace's eyes, a wonder of the turned crops coming from the Neck; mere half-hour passes before he, ever mindful, shifts towards your visage.

“What troubles you?” he wonders – a stare that leaks with some unknown vulnerability, that stiffness that has still pervaded the pair of you despite your comfortability.

And perhaps that very observation is it; you swallow down the rising resistance - a melting of icy hesitance, a heavy weight shared between shoulders so different yet destined.

Jacaerys watches unblinking – you notice for perhaps the first time the signet ring that perches upon his smallfinger, glinting black and ruby in the daylight. Your own ring – a wolf, dark and proud, sits upon your middle; and you wonder how indeed a wolf will fare in a den of dragons.

You’ve spent enough time with Jacaerys – though this has been swaddled in the nest of the North; your own comfort of life, of family and that sweet soul-binding heritage. Perhaps what troubles you is this – of the impending binding of your life to his own by duty and blood: To know him and be known for the rest and beyond; of fighting a war not of your own making but of your own fate – and yet, with your love and devotion for him fostered and growing, leaking from your very core, it still feels foreign.

“I do not know,” you admit in a surge of emotion, glancing into the open pit of emotion within his gaze. “I cannot help but wonder…why,” you utter slowly, eyes shifting under the uncomfortable embrace of vulnerability.

And his own vulnerability shows upon his sleeve as he turns to face you fully, drawn in silhouette from the glowing embers that warm the chill in your heart. “Why?” He repeats, eyes searching your own.

You do not fear your betrothed; you know nothing but faith and conviction laced between your hand and his own. Jacaerys is of good blood; not in the sense perhaps that his ancestors might boast, but that of the same very blood your Northern people acclaim – honorable.

He, even in the unlikely instance of a lack of a lasting affection or love, will always hold you honorably as his wife, and in time his Queen – and this, indeed, you hold in common.

You will perhaps always hold flame for Jacaerys, even if time passes in your marriage and he does not hold such equal affections – and this is some comfort in itself, to know that he will protect you no matter where you lie within his heart.

Your words come easier in the passing moment, as Jacaerys awaits your gospel with the veneration of a knelt pilgrim – and you come to understand that somewhere within his breast is a flame alight; an affection returned, with your name burning there.

Your lips part, and his eyes track the motion.

“Our union. It is…” You swallow, “Unusual.”

Your heart aches only in the flickered trace of sorrow that paints his gaze; he leans back to the settee, an expression clouded by unnamed emotions. It is not any absence of affection, then, from either of you – a coupling not lacking in love, then, but instead marked by a trace of fate that drags your heart into worry.

After some time, your prince speaks. “It is rather custom to marry within the bloodline,” Jacaerys admits, hesitating. Amber eyes, flickering deep into the hearth, as if trying to light the embers that die down with just his stare; you wonder, faintly, if he could. His words are an echo of many nights swirling in doubt above your bedposts – and to hear them, a warmth of relief in your breast.

“But there are other duties,” He murmurs, “–ones that even the Gods cannot ignore.”

His tone has reduced to a rather trance-like state; your eyes, roaming the rich of his furs before focusing in the distance; a ring of clouds, circling the light of the sun just out of view.

Beams of heavenly breath, breaking through the cold sky; a break in the squall, some gasp of mercy from the Old Gods – and a ring of light, sprouting from Jacaerys’s head. It is some ancient song, an echoing you’ve only truly felt in the silence of the crypts low below your feet – you blink twice at the sight of such a reverent sight, his grace outlined in the slope of his nose, the pout of his lips.

His voice is lower than a whisper when it comes once more.

“Aegon.”

Rather struck by the light of heaven’s breath breaking around Jacaerys, your brows furrow; you tilt your head, rising to follow as your betrothed leaves the settee. His eyes are stuck on the flutter of snowflakes from the heavens, his back aflame with the fire of the hearth – and he stops before the window, blinking away frost.

An odd, ancient feeling stirs in your mind – your shoulder brushes the fine tailoring of his cloak as you join him at the casement overlooking the Godswood; Your voice is clear against the blanket of quiet.

“The Usurper?”

His lips are pursed for a moment before a gentle shake of his head. “The Conqueror.”

It is once again awakened – this seed of uncertainty, the knowledge of the trickling poison which drips from the old blood of Valyria and poisons the minds of those men upon their Stone – but you tilt your head to your Prince, considering his words.

A breath that plumes against the crawling chill of snow, and Jacaerys’ voice is distant once more.

“I’ve heard his song.”

Perhaps Jacaerys has been kept inside too long: In that way the cold can take a man’s mind – curl around it with frost, trickle ice into veins so sewn with fire; turn him mad.

You take a small step closer; cold air upon your face, the warmth of his arm brushed against the peak of your shoulder.

It is an attempt, youthful and unsure, at comfort – though he accepts it as he turns to look at you. A gentle gaze, the kind he’s always saved for you, warming the side of your visage; you’re much too gone in thought, eyes stuck at the peek of red bleeding through the pines in the distance.

The leaves are frosted, though they remain ever crimson, ever watching. You whisper to Jacaerys, eyes upon the godswood.

“Dead men don’t sing, my prince.”

YOU FIND YOURSELF REFRESHED IN THE BREAK OF WINTERSNOW THAT AFTERNOON.

The Godswood; a sheltered overhang provided by the sprawling branches of the Weirwood – your knees floated within the chasmous snow pelted fresh-fallen and sweet onto the frozen earth.

Jacaerys rests near you – perched on what below lies a boulder, he watches the flakes fall gentle onto the surface of the pooled spring behind you, your quiet words deadened in the blanket of snow.

The wind is forgiving today – and you can only hope, as you rise from your knelt position before the tree, that it will extend its mercy unto the ceremony in three day’s time.

There is only the plume of your breath and the muffled compaction of your boots against the settled snow that accompany the short distance to your betrothed.

Steam rises in tendrils from the warmth of the pond’s depths; a simmering fate from the icy flakes which flutter onto its surface, giving the last breath of their life in sacrifice for its own.

“How fares Vermax?”

Your voice carries with it that sullen evergreen repose – Jace looks up at you from where he sits, a small smile gracing his countenance. “He has found a cave to the West.”

You nod with a knowing smile, lowering yourself to perch beside your betrothed upon the soft snowed earth, your furs dark against the bright kiss of the Gods. “I wondered if he might,” You murmur, recalling the natural springs not unlike the one you sit before; their warmth a relief to any who are graced by their presence within the caves of the slopes. “It would do him well to return home soon.” You murmur, eyes roving over the hands, ungloved and calloused with cold and fight, which rest in Jacaerys’ lap.

Perhaps in resistance to the weather or from the heat of your attention, he flexes his lithe fingers; and with the breath he takes, he looks to you. “He’s never quite agreed with the North.” He admits with a soft smile. You nod thoughtfully, wondering indeed how such a being of fire could fare against the land of ice.

“And his rider?” You wonder then, eyes hinged on a swaying pine in the distance, its needles shed of snow as a pile falls to the ground.

Jacaerys looks at you with that expression once more – a warm one, but one hesitant by nature. “I’d say he is learning to weather it,” Jacaerys answers with a lingering smile, though his gaze shifts momentarily to the horizon, where the faintest sliver of dusk begins to creep through the flurry of snowflakes. “He's come to learn that it grows on a man, much like its people.”

Your lips curve in a bout of shy flattery, and you shake your head.

A loss for words stretches on into more; the water is calm in its reflection, and you watch snowflakes flutter from the stretch of gray, kissing your hair and tangling in your lashes. The clearing is large, though still so very intimate – it is not long before your thoughts meander to the days ahead, to the many preparations still to be done despite your moment of respite.

After a beat, you speak into the blanket of quiet.

“Three days.” You muse, blinking away flurries of white and turning to your betrothed. “Does it not feel strange to you, that in so little time, we are to be bound?”

Jace exhales, his breath clouding the air which swirls before you, and you look up to him in wait. He tilts his head just so, blinking away flakes as they come to kiss his flushed skin. You watch them melt to his lips with some faint lick of envy.

His voice is hardened by the deadened air of winter, though you know there is nothing but kindness laced within. “There is no hesitation in me, if that is what you ask.”

A warmth pools within you at his chosen words, at the thought of he and you, under the very tree which you now sit, joint in hands and bound by blood.

Perhaps it is that small yearning that festers unsaid in your heart – or it is the residual worry of his words of songs and men long-dead this morning in his chambers; but you press on gently. “And why is that, my Prince?”

He looks into your eyes, then – and you see some search for verity amidst the downfall of snow; your fingers are cold, and they itch to hold his own. “Do you hold your own reservations?” In his tone holds no such judgement; merely the curiosity of a boy no older than one and twenty – and you, in the same turn of years, shake your head.

“No, I–” Your lip is bitten once more, and his eyes remain upon them despite the flush on your cheeks. “I suppose I just wish to know,” You whisper, swallowing thickly, “If it is all… for strategy.”

Jacaerys takes a moment; you allow it, watching as the flakes fall into the curls, as his eyes skim over the Northern edge of Winterfell, falling somewhere far, far beyond. “It is not simply a duty for me,” He chooses, tracing your visage with the care befitting of one who’s known you for life. “I believe you know this.”

And perhaps you do; you smile under his accusation, tilting your head. “I suppose so, though I should like to hear you say it,” You admit, looking towards the very horizon he’d worried over. A murder of ravens, cutting dark through the gray blur of afternoon. “You speak too much in riddles these days.”

It seems as though your words penetrate whatever foggy worries swirl within his sharp mind; and he nods solemnly.

“You’re right,” and his voice is quieter now, guarded; unsure whether to reveal what such odd whisperings might mean. “I must have you know,” he starts, glancing to you, “that my care for you goes beyond duty.”

His words are a balm to the brunt of fate that now befalls you; his cheeks as pink as your own, and he whispers kindly. “I have long held an affection for you in my heart, and hoped you might feel the same.”

Any words of agreement are halted upon your lips when Jacaerys takes another breath, one laced with the weight of a realm divided: “But after Lucerys…” He clears his throat once more and you are struck with his pain.

Your palm finds his knee in some hope of comfort provided; his own falls atop it. “Princess Rhaenys and Meleys fell at Rooks Rest while I travelled North; a war wages still - and yet I had to come. I know you wonder why, and you deserve to know.”

And you wait with breath bated, as you have for many days in wonder of why indeed now seemed fit for the Prince to come to the North for you.

“My mother… shared something,” he begins once more, his tone low, “Passed down through our blood, through King and King – from long before Viserys, to my mother, and now me... A prophecy.”

Your stomach has grown a pit of anticipation, some dreadful cloud gathering above you. Your Prince blinks to you shortly, brows drawn in consternation - as though it is a far crime and violation, what he is to tell you.

And then he begins: words strung with the cloudiness of destiny, of doubt lingering in a stream of worry – and you sway where you repose, in a blinking dread when mentions come of a common enemy, of a terrible winter long to come.

And you, then, are struck with thoughts – of the long nights at Castle Black; of the men who patrol the wild lands, who speak in hushed voices and train with hard hands – of the old memory of Death, which lingers in the dreams of Northern children and on the tongues of Septas sat before hearths.

You turn your gaze from the Weirwood’s branches above to Jacaerys, who looks out over the horizon to the breath of twilight leaking through.

A song – a dead man’s dream; of the ice of the north, he explains, and the fire of Valyria.

It is a cold many minutes in which you breathe, a dread lingering between you and your beloved prince, hands clasped together and hearts beating as one. It does not do well to play on a foolish man’s beliefs – though your prince is no foolish man, and the hands of fate are too tightly bound.

“You speak of fire and blood,” you whisper finally, “Of dreams that burn through the night?”

The eve that falls is quiet, and the wind forgives your trespassing. He nods solemnly, your prince; and his absence of further response lets your mind wander.

Swirls of snow dance along the footprints left in your previous wake; the wind blows strands of hair across your vision.

Jacaerys’ eyes are amber pools and you drown in them, in the heat that has grown in the knowledge of words dreamt by a long dead man, in the legacy which leaks through each new crowned Targaryen. You drown in the knowledge that perhaps, in some way, a truth rings within this so-believed prophecy; secret as the lands which lie far to the North.

Your lips are wetted gently, shaking your head as you continue your thought. “But magic does not only run hot,” you murmur, “It does not only belong to the South.”

His expression turns – and a weight which indeed shrouds him finds you too, cocooning you and your betrothed, binding you with threads of fate long ago tied and drawn. The woods whistle with the breath of winter, and you hear their song.

“It is in the roots of the tree, in the bones of this land,” You admit, “My ancestors prayed to the Old Gods, and in return they whispered in the wind, spoke in the silence. And they, too, endure.”

Jacaerys shifts beside you and your palm is taken into the cradle of both his own. “I do not wish to burden you with such things.” He murmurs - and a memory of your brother's same words the day this very betrothal became so; it is forever, then, that the men of your life will wish to protect you from harm.

In the moment’s breath, you speak quietly: “–But such things are ours now, are they not?” You wonder aloud; and in the relief of a smile, he nods smally.

“There are threats to face sooner; I know it is no small ask to bring you into the throes of conflict. But perhaps our blood,” He murmurs, cheeks tinged pink, “might one day save the Realm.”

An odd thought – but still one that does not change the truth: You go into the heart of the fire in three days’ time; but you will go with Jacaerys, and you will not be alone. A wolf in the South – and a dragon by her side.

In the lingering peace of companionship, Jacaerys huffs gently. “I wish I could have done more,” He murmurs, “Ensured a proper betrothal.” His cheeks remain stained in that crimson colour against the fading light of the sky, and you resist the longing feeling to feel his lips against your own.

You laugh, a short thing in the muffled quiet, “It matters not, Jace,” You promise, a smile small and kind upon your visage. In his shift, you slide gently between his knees – and your palms squeeze his own.

“I’d have courted you,” He insists in that boyish nature you remember from those moons ago – and the air that’d frozen your lungs in the moments fallen behind has thawed into a budding giddiness. You smile at his tone, tilting your head. “Is that right, my Prince?” You tease, lifting your brow, “Taken me for strolls in the gardens, picked me flowers?”

His smile is so boyish and hopeful; your heart skips as he nods. “Of course.” His grin grows softer as you shift.

It is when the space between you narrows in a moment that you purse your lips gently, eyes tracing the curve of his own cherried lips. “Though my duty is to the North, it is also to the Queen,” You begin. His eyes fall to your own lips. “And to you. I hold love for you in my heart, Jacaerys,” You admit, cheeks warm, “And I am quite pleased to be your wife.”

His hand leaves your own – and in its ascent, you see a slight tremor; when your face is cradled by his palm, you let your eyes flutter shut.

It is only a momentary shock when lips, cold and light, press to your eyelid; a brushing so gentle, you wonder if it will not melt into the snow itself.

Jacaerys’ breath lingers, a quiet warmth as he moves to your other eye, kissing away the flakes of snow which cling to you in reverence. A stirring in your breast as your hands find his cloaked arms, strong beneath your grasp; a whisper into the earth around you as snow falls.

He pulls away only in a plume of warm breath that you feel against your visage; your eyes open to find his own, warm and wanting. A fire burns in you, and it calls his name – somewhere in the distance, Vermax roars. The edges of the pond lap over a small crust of ice, and your touch warms against your betrothed.

“I was made for you,” He murmurs, lips chilled against your warm cheek; and you believe it. He says your name, and it falls from bitten lips with a desperation that sets your nerves ablaze; "I will love you with everything I am," He promises; and fingers trace the curve of your jaw, a gentle thing – a lingering of breath with your own, a hitch to your lungs as desire claws at your throat. Your smile is small and melts under the weight of heat.

In a moment, you cannot bear the space which lingers, small and unforgiving, between you; Without hesitation, your palms slide over his furs, kissed with snow – and soon, you card your hands through the curls at the nape of your betrothed’s neck.

It is a pull towards your awaiting lips, and soon Jacaerys kisses you soundly.

Hands slide to your waist, dropping from your jaw to cradle you between his legs, flush in the heat of shared life; and you, a blossoming flutter of affection and anticipation for nights to come. Hands tremble – yours, around his neck, his, curved around your waist.

The snow falls heavier still – and a howl of wind that blows you closer to Jace, a short share of giggles between you, giddy and alight with some small kernel of hope. The Godswood is quiet, and your lips slide together in a shy, lingering sweetness; he pulls away from you only to press small kisses upon each exposed breath of skin you offer, and you laugh into the quiet, heart beating as one.

“I am yours.”

And for some time, a soft exploration of affections beneath the sprawling limbs of the tree – and the words fall from lips taking and giving, smiling and sighing, pursuing and pressing.

The woods sing with the bells when supper is called; and so with hair tangled, cheeks warm, you rise together.

Arm in arm, your betrothed and you retrace footprints kissed with the gift of fresh-fallen snow; words quiet and half-burdened with the weight of the future – but still remains the lingering of hope, the promise of love even in the dreary eve of fate.

The Godswood of Winterfell echo softly with footfall; The warmth of the Great Hall awaits you both. Jacaerys presses a kiss to your knuckles, and you push open the doors together.

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xvysarene · 4 months ago

Text

𝔾𝕠𝕠𝕕 𝔻𝕖𝕖𝕕

Pairing: Sylus x Fem!Reader Prompt: “You’re pretty good at running away.” Words: ~2.8k Genre: Eventual fluff A/N: In a writing slump and kinda dislike how this one turns out but oh wells

[ᝰ.ᐟ MASTERLIST]

“Marry me,” you had said.

Those two words—whether they were your saving grace or the beginning of your damnation, you weren’t sure.

Then, he surprised you when he said, “Okay.”

Nothing more and nothing less.

It almost felt like he had anticipated your arrival, barreling your way into the base upon learning of your father’s, one of Onychinus’s highest-ranking partners’, demise.

Seeing your stupefied expression, he nonchalantly shrugged. “It’s a practical solution to an unfortunate situation.”

That wasn’t your first time meeting Sylus, and you’d be far too naïve to think he would ever do anything for free. Every favour, every exchange, came with an unspoken contract—an inevitable quid pro quo.

But it was a choice between marrying him or being eaten alive in the N109 Zone.

“Although, I must ask—have you truly thought this through?” Sylus inquired, his gaze sharp.

There was a reason why you chose to move to Goldwood City once you had the chance; far away from the lawless land to start anew, free from the shadow of your father’s association.

As if the death of your mother caused by his recklessness years ago wasn’t enough, the old man had to pull you back into the very world you had succeeded to leave behind.

Staying away was a luxury you no longer had with your old man’s enemies haunting you.

Head held high, you met his gaze directly. “I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t sure of my choice.”

Oh, little did you know, that your return to the N109 Zone as Onychinus’s leader’s wife, would mean putting your heart on the line as well.

Perhaps it all started that one evening, when a nightmare jolted you awake, haunting you with the vision of your mother’s lifeless eyes and being captured by the people your father had entangled himself with.

Without even realising it, you were already standing at Sylus’s doorway.

“Why?” he questioned when you asked if you could stay the night in his. “Something wrong with your room?”

Indeed, he offered you your own space even though you were legally husband and wife now. It had been a relief at first, a perfect arrangement, until the nightmares escalated.

“It just feels too quiet tonight,” you lied, unready to fully bare your soul.

Sylus finally looked up from the papers he’d been reading, one eyebrow arched. “Not used to being alone at night back in Goldwood?”

Your face flushed at the implication. Just as you opened your mouth to deny it, something in his expression shifted.

It was so fleeting and subtle that you weren’t even sure if you had imagined it.

He raised a hand, halting your reply. “Actually, never mind about it.”

When he simply returned to his papers, offering no clear sign of whether you were welcome, you frowned.

You were about to take your bruised pride back to your room when you heard him let out a resigned sigh. “Are you coming or no? You’re letting the draft in,” he said, pulling back the duvet on the vacant side, inviting you to settle in.

His acceptance was surprising, but you quickly climbed into bed before he could change his mind, feeling a surge of relief and security with him close by.

If you were too close for comfort, he didn’t mention it.

Sylus was so warm that you shuddered from the sudden temperature change. The base, with its perpetual chill, was a stark contrast to his body heat.

“What are you reading?”

“Mundane proposals,” he muttered, tone laced with boredom as his eyes skimmed the pages in front of him.

With your interest piqued, you scooted even closer, your hair slightly brushing his arm. “Anything I should know about?”

When you told him that you wouldn’t settle for being a trophy wife, he offered you an administrative position in Onychinus, which you happily accepted.

“I feel that these are better off in the trash.”

A small chuckle escaped you, drawing Sylus’s attention. He cast a glance downward, amused by your reaction.

That somewhat prompted him to give a brief outline of the proposal, perhaps to get him through it too. And he was right, it was so dull that you felt your eyes fluttering closed, lulled by the deep timbre of his voice.

“—heard that the twins take good care of you.”

“Hm?” You peeked one of your eyes open, though it was futile as it soon closed again.

Whenever he was away, Luke or Kieran—often both—were always by your side, becoming more than just your guards; they were your mentors, teaching you the complexities of Onychinus’s operations, and they were slowly becoming your…

Friends. A foreign term to you.

Friendship had never been something you could afford, not with the constant paranoia of trusting the wrong person, no thanks to your father.

In your drowsy state, you remembered mumbling, “I feel at ease when I’m with them.”

“At ease, huh? That’s a rare concept around here.” Sylus’s voice cut through the fog of your drowsiness.

Your mind, still wrapped in the haze of sleep, seemed to speak for itself. “You also make me feel more comfortable than I expected.”

Looking back, you laughed mirthlessly at your own stupidness. Where was that defense mechanism you had sworn was ingrained within you?

You knew better than to allow yourself to be vulnerable, to let someone slip past your guard easily in such a short span of time.

Especially someone like Sylus—a man cloaked in power, whose intentions were always enigmatic.

“You’re pretty good at running away.” The voice, carried by the wind, reached your ears. “Pretty good, but not the best.”

“Here to claim your bargaining tool back?”

His footsteps stopped a few paces away from you. Refusing to meet his gaze, you remained looking ahead. The once vibrant colours of sunset faded into darkness, as if the sky itself mirrored the ache seeping deep inside your soul.

Sylus let out a deep sigh. “How much did you know?”

A few days ago, while you were sorting through Onychinus’s papers, you stumbled upon an old, yellowed document hidden deep on a neglected shelf, seemingly placed there to remain undiscovered.

As you read through the faded ink—an exchange made between your father and Sylus a long time ago, marked with their signs and bloodied fingerprints—it felt as though you heard your old man laughing from his grave, determined to terrorise you even in death.

That bastard had sold you to Sylus, bartering your life for a sliver of power within the N109 Zone.

“Did you have fun watching me pathetically beg you to marry me? Knowing all along that you’ve owned me anyway?”

The memory of his calmness that day burned in the back of your mind. Your intuition was right after all, he had anticipated you coming to him.

And if you were honest with yourself, it wasn't even your father you were so angry with—you’d always known what a monster he was.

No, what burned like a hot iron in your chest was the sense of betrayal, the sting of disappointment aimed squarely at Sylus.

How could you have been so blind, so gullible to believe that this man could be anything more than another player in your father’s ruthless game?

“I asked you that day if it was what you truly wanted,” he calmly said, “I never forced you to marry me.”

You bristled. He was right, of course.

“But you would make sure that one way or another, you would claim me as your possession, wouldn't you? Even from the moment we first met,” you spat.

It was a few years ago when you were first introduced to Sylus. Your mother had begged you to accompany her to a function, and how could you refuse when the guilt of leaving her in the N109 Zone with your father still weighed heavily on you?

For whatever reason you couldn’t understand, she had refused to move in with you.

The function was a blur of faces and conversations that made your head spin, the air thick with the aroma of expensive cigars and the tang of power.

You felt out of place, an outsider in a world that had once been your cage.

“Darling, I want you to meet someone.” Your mother’s tone was a strange mixture of joy and nervousness. She gently took your arm and guided you through the crowd until you stood before a tall figure, his presence commanding.

“This is Sylus, the leader of Onychinus,” she introduced. “He’s agreed to work with your father on some very important matters.”

You blinked in surprise. Somehow, you expected the leader of the most prominent organisation to be someone closer to your father’s age, but he was only a couple of years older than you.

Sylus’s features were sharp and striking, though it was his eyes that held you captive. They were intense, piercing, as if he could see right through you.

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Ms. Y/N,” Sylus greeted. He took your hand in his, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your knuckles.

Your mother’s keen eyes noticed the crimson that spread across your cheeks, her lips pursing to contain a smile.

“Oh, Sylus, no need for such formalities,” she said lightly, elbowing you to greet him back.

You tried to compose yourself, but his unexpected charm and the way he looked at you left you flustered. “I—uh, nice to meet you too," you managed to stammer.

“Your mother speaks highly of you,” his low voice sent tingling sensation on your insides.

The soft rustle of grass as Sylus settled beside you made your skin prickle. Stupidly, you still craved his closeness.

The nightmares had ceased when you began staying in his bedroom altogether, finding security in the steady rhythm of his breathing beside you. But since fleeing the base, they returned relentlessly, creeping back each time you managed to get a shut eye.

He stretched out his long legs, the fabric of his jacket brushing against you slightly, his gaze fixed on the distant city lights glimmering on the horizon.

“I didn't want you to find out like this,” he finally said, voice low and measured, as if he had carefully chosen each word.

“Then enlighten me, Sylus, what was your grand plan? To control me? To tame me into the docile wife you always wanted me to be?”

He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a sleek black box, pressing it into your hands. “This will explain better than any of my words.”

Slowly, you opened the latch, revealing a collection of emblems—some new, some tarnished—from various N109 Zone fractions. Resting on top of the seals was a folded envelope, its edges frayed.

Sylus nodded towards it, urging you to read the letter inside. As you unfolded the paper, the familiar handwriting of your mother’s came into view, despite the hurried and uneven scrawl.

What I could not say, his deeds will show. Have faith in him.

“Your mother approached me before the agreement with your father was finalised.” Sylus’s expression was unreadable. “She wanted me to protect you. From your father, and from anyone that might harm you.”

As the dots began to connect inside your spinning head, the realisation dawned. “And that’s why you asked for me in return? Why didn’t you tell me this when I first came to you?”

“Keeping you near would make it easier for me to ensure your safety, at least until I could handle all of your father’s enemies.” He shot you a sideways glance. “Do you think we’d be here now if I had laid it all out for you from the start?”

You both knew that if he had, you would have likely flipped him off and done everything in your power to escape his presence.

The cold metal emblems bit into your palm as you examined them, each one representing what had once been a looming threat. A deep understanding shifted your perspective entirely; this was what Sylus had been occupied with during the days he left you in the care of Luke and Kieran.

He had been thoroughly hunting down your father’s enemies, your nightmare, to ensure that you could finally be free from them.

It wasn’t his incompetence that had kept him from finding you days after your escape. No, he had been securing the final pieces of your freedom.

“What did you ask from my mother then? There must have been something you got, that’s how you grant wishes.”

Sylus gave a soft huff, as if he was on the verge of a chuckle, and shook his head. “Contrary to popular belief, I do grant wishes without expecting anything back.”

Your eyes flicked to him in surprise as he continued, “Nothing. I asked for nothing in return. Your mother earned my respect, and that was enough.”

Everyone understood that dealing with Sylus was a risk, a gamble that could even cost you your life.

Studying him intently, you searched for any trace of deception, but all you discovered was a grave sincerity. His eyes were unnervingly tender when he watched the shock painting your face.

“I’ve kept my promise to your mother. You're a free woman now, free to do whatever you want.” Sylus broke eye contact then, his voice dropping to a near whisper as he added, “We can also get a divorce.”

A divorce.

The word set something unsettling that clawed at your insides, sinking deep into your core, and catching you completely off guard.

For a moment, your mind replayed the way his intense red eyes met yours with kindness, to his touch that held a tenderness that couldn't be faked, and the subtle ways he had shown his care for nearly half a year now.

You hugged your knees tighter, the cold ground beneath you contrasting sharply with the warmth of your memories. “Is that what you want? For us to go separate ways?”

“What I want,” he began slowly, “never matters. This has always been about you. Your choice.”

A second passed, then ten, before you quietly whispered, “What if I choose to stay with you then?”

It was as if a wall had been erected again.

“You are not thinking with your head right now, but with your heart. You trusted me because you saw me as your only lifeline.” His voice was rough, edged with frustration.

“But what if underneath the leader of Onychinus, underneath the man that everyone fears, is the one I want to stay with, the one I feel at ease with? Not because of my father’s shadows nor his enemies.”

Sylus breath hitched, a sudden tension rippling through his frame as he struggled to keep his composure. “You don’t know me.”

His voice carried a warning, attempting to push you away, but you stood your ground.

In that moment, you understood why he often held himself back, creating distance whenever he found himself growing too close.

He was afraid of caring for you beyond what he thought his promise to your mother allowed, struggling to maintain the balance between his feelings and his commitment, fearing that crossing that line would mean violating his duty.

“Then show me.” You moved closer, invading his personal space. “Show me what’s behind all this.”

With resolve burning in your eyes, you cupped his face and leaned in. Your lips sought his, praying you hadn't misread him all this time.

That you wanted the warmth and tenderness you’d glimpsed in fleeting moments to be real and not just a reflection of your own desires.

For a breathless moment, he remained still. Then, something in him seemed to break, a crack in his armour. Strong, corded arms slid around you, pulling you closer until you both tumbled back onto the grass, entwined.

His hand brushed the back of your neck, fingers tangling in your hair as his lips pressed into yours with a ravenous need.

It was a kind of kiss that laid bare the truth, shattered every wall, and left you panting for air.

Your breaths intermingled when you pulled back just enough to look into his eyes. There was a vulnerable openness in there, a look concealed beneath the hardened exterior.

“You never read my mother’s letter, did you?” you suddenly asked him.

Confusion flickered in his eyes, his brows knitting together as he shook his head. With trembling fingers, you retrieved the letter from the box and held it up between you.

The dim light from the horizon cast soft shadows on the small message scribbled on the bottom of the paper.

Sylus’s eyes traced the words, his gaze shifting from the letter to your face as the message slowly registered.

Sylus—remember that you, too, deserve love just as much as she does.

It was as though your mother had not only seen the heart within him, but had also foreseen what he had struggled to admit.

With a gentle touch, your thumb brushed against his cheek, lips featherlight as it brushed against his once more. “Take me home, Sy.”

⤷ ᝰ.ᐟ MASTERLIST

#ᝰ.ᐟ 𝐱𝐞𝐩𝐡'𝐬 writing nook #love and deepspace #lads #l&ds #love and deepspace x reader #love and deepspace x y/n #love and deepspace x you #sylus #sylus x reader #sylus x y/n #sylus x you #fluff

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yammpi3 · 4 months ago

Text

𝙇𝘼𝙏𝙀 𝙉𝙄𝙂𝙃𝙏 𝙀𝙉𝘾𝙊𝙐𝙉𝙏𝙀𝙍 𝙆𝙚𝙞𝙜𝙤 𝙏𝙖𝙠𝙖𝙢𝙞 [𝙃𝙖𝙬𝙠𝙨]

synopsis. You were a former hero commission hero but when you made a simple mistake in a mission the commission sent you on they deemed you unfit and fired you, hence made you out to be a villain to the public. A few years later you meet your old partner Hawks out on his nightly patrol then you guys make up….made out .. :3

— content warnings. sorta plot with smut, eating out, p to v, kissing, sex sex sex, not really coordinated well? i think? dom/sub hawks

— W.C 2.3k

— authors note. This has been rotting in my drafts for like a year now but i thought i should post something…so..heres this!! Im rlly sorry if it’s formatted kinda weirdly, imo the smut is also written sorta weird but i think thats just me..overthinking it ANYWAYS enjoy reading <33 also Thank you FOR 100 FOLLOWERS?? i didn’t expect my blog would reach that much so TYTY.

Hawks sighed heavily, leaning back in his office desk chair, elbows propping on the armrests. He rubbed his tired eyes, tilting his head back, attempting to avoid eye contact with the stack of paperwork that lay out before him.

Every muscle in his body ached with exhaustion. It felt like he had been sitting in this same spot for days, poring over reports and documents in an endless cycle of busy work. As the number-two hero, the public demanded nothing but his very best. They expected him to always be alert and swift in responding to any crisis, dealing with volatile situations and dangerous villains with calm precision.

But they didn't see this part. They didn't witness the countless late nights spent filling out forms, compiling statistics, and attending meetings after meetings. No cameras captured the headaches induced by mind-numbing bureaucracy or the frustration of dealing with petty politics. This was the hidden cost of his elevated rank—an incessant paper-pushing grindstone that wore him down more than any actual fight ever could.

Slowly dragging his hands down his face, Hawks sighed again as the aches and knots of tension complained loudly in his neck and shoulders. For a brief moment, he considered using his feathers to shred just a few stray documents, to do less work.

He stretched his arms over his head and rolled his tense muscles, his wings fluttering restlessly behind him. All he wanted at that moment was to forget. To spread his wings and fly through open skies, feeling the wind ruffle through his feathers as he left his troubles far below.

Tilting his chair back as far as it would go, he gave a long-suffering look at the piles of work that towered precariously around him, silently pleading with it all to spontaneously catch fire or simply vanish into thin air. With a resigned sigh, Hawks dropped all four chair legs back to the floor and reluctantly pulled the topmost file towards him once more, bracing himself for another grind of the ever-turning wheel.

Hawks rubbed his tired eyes once more, feeling his motivation drain away with each mundane paragraph he read. At this rate, he'd be here all night and well into the morning. With a groan, he tossed the file back onto the pile, temporarily defeated. Maybe a quick break was what he needed to recharge his focus.

Pushing away from his desk, Hawks stood and stretched out his cramped body to its full height, his wings unfolding to their full span. A midnight flight around the city was just what he needed. The cool night air and darkened streets would do wonders for clearing his cluttered mind.

Stepping out onto his office balcony, Hawks took a few steps back, then launched himself into the sky with his wings. He flew high, circling up towards the crowning heights of the skyscrapers that shone below. Closing his eyes briefly, he took a deep breath of the fresher air, feeling tensions beginning to melt away already.

As he glided back down towards street level, Hawks scanned the sidewalks lazily while lost in thought. He was mulling over the options when movement in his peripheral vision caught his attention.

Your shadow slipped between alleyways, scanning for any civilians in the area. Suddenly flashes of red nearing a rooftop drew your eye—a familiar winged silhouette.

Going on a nearby rooftop, you spotted Hawks looking down, trying to find who or what he saw.

You and Hawks used to know each other pretty well in your teen years when you dreamed of being a great hero. So when you were selected by the Commission to become one, you were ecstatic. But from day one, Keigo Takami made things... complicated.

You two went way back to your training days, though you mostly kept your head down back then. Once in the pro scene though, Takami always found ways to rile you up during sessions, whether with sly taunts or risky stunts that pushed protocol to the limit.

Part of you wanted to throttle that arrogant asshole, but another part couldn't deny the thrill he made you feel.

Late nights spent training turned into more..private scenarios. For a time, it was nice to find solace in each other. But then came the ruling—you'd been deemed "not hero material" after one mistake, ruining your future. That's when Takami tried to connect with you again, but the hero commission wouldn't even allow him to be close to you to not damage the reputation he already made with the public.

"You're up rather late for a hero," you whispered directly into his ear, barely suppressing a chuckle at his startled flinch. Golden eyes met yours warily, yet he made no move to escape our intimate embrace.

"I'm off duty," was his measured reply. "And you?" Smoke clung thick to the memories in his eyes.

Your fingers, carefully gloved, traced the proud arch of his wings, feeling tension bleed away slowly. "Care for some company, Keigo?"

He held your gaze steadily, considering. At last he nodded, extending a hand. “Not that I can shake you off anyway,” he replied, a faint smirk playing on his lips.

You sat together on the secluded rooftop, settling close against one another. As you caught up, you both couldn't help but feel deprived of each other's touch; it had been far too long since you'd seen one another face to face. Sure, he'd heard about you through others in the commission, but being here together was different somehow.

When your voices at last fell silent, a gentle touch turned your chin to meet Hawks' searching eyes. "Y/N…" he murmured, leaning in so your faces were mere inches apart. One of his wings stretched out to block any view from the street below, enveloping you both in its feathery embrace.

Hawks closed the remaining distance between you, pressing his lips to yours in a soft yet insistent kiss.

One hand came up to cradle the back of your head, fingers threading into your hair, as the other wrapped around your waist to draw you flush against his body. You felt even better than he remembered.

When your lips parted under him, Hawks held back a groan as he rested his forehead against yours as you both panted for air. Wisps of steam rose between the two of you in the chill night.

If he tasted you fully, it would undo his last shred of willpower.

“You're going to be the end of me.." Hawks murmured thickly. Already, he ached to have more, but taking you here against the railing would be too brazen, even for his recklessness.

"Then take me somewhere more...private then," you shot back in a sinful whisper.

With a sly smile, Hawks swept you into his arms in a bridal carry, wings already prepared for launch. "Hold on tight.”

Hawks kicked off from the roof of the building and took flight, relishing your tight grip around his shoulders. The thrill of having you in his arms sent adrenaline surging through his veins.

He landed lightly on the balcony of his high-rise apartment, still holding you securely against his chest. Your masked face was turned up to meet his gaze.

"I.. I really missed you," Hawks murmured, pressing you back against the wall with his body. He caged you in with outspread wings, feathers gently ghosting your skin.

"Me too.." you replied. Your hands came up to roam his body just as eagerly.

Hawks captured your lips in a searing kiss, conveying all his pent-up needs and desires without restraint. This was wrong on so many levels, and yet he'd never felt more alive.

Kicking open the balcony doors, he swept you inside and laid you down on his plush sofa. His hands worked busily to remove your mask, wanting nothing between you and him; clothing fell piece by piece until nothing was left.

"Say you want this," Hawks pleaded roughly, desperate for your answer.

Your intoxicating laughter rang out as you pulled him against your body. "I want all of you, Keigo."

Hawks' hands roamed your body eagerly, relearning every curve as his lips traveled along your jawline. You sighed contentedly, arching into his touch while undoing the fastenings of his hero costume with practiced expertise.

Slowly, methodically, he kissed his way down the delicate column of your throat. Hawks lingered there to suckle your rapid pulse, eliciting breathy moans. His name falling from your lips in such a manner sent fresh spikes of arousal through him.

As you lay bare under him, Hawks paused to simply take in the sublime vision of your naked form, illuminated by the moonlight. "You're so..beautiful," he whispered in awe, tracing idle patterns upon your sensitized flesh.

Your hands delved into the downy feathers at his wings' bases, eliciting a guttural groan. The way you caressed his most sensitive areas, teasing but not quite enough, tested Hawks' faltering control. He nipped lightly at the swell of your breast in retaliation.

Tracing a tortuous path down your torso with wet kisses and love bites, Hawks' fingers dipped between your thighs. He chuckled at discovering your slick arousal, already swollen and desperate for friction. Slowly, he circled your clit, gathering your arousal onto his fingers.

"Please..." you begged wantonly, bucking your hips to chase more contact. But Hawks would loathe to grant your unspoken request so easily. He continued his maddening ministrations, coaxing you higher and higher with expert precision. Only when your keening cries bordered on anguish did he finally decide to sink two fingers deep inside.

The powerful rhythm he set drove you swiftly towards the peak. Hawks swallowed your hoarse screams of completion, savoring your intimate essence on his tongue.

"I've missed this..," he murmured, pressing a tender kiss on your sensitive bundle of nerves.

Then his tongue delved into your slick arousal with deft, practiced strokes. Your responsive sighs and the way you grabbed Takami's hair only spurred him onward in his devotions.

He alternated between broad, flat licks and focused flicks directly over your clit. When Keigo very lightly grazed his teeth along your folds, you keened and bucked again into his ministrations wildly. He hummed his approval, sending vibrations through your core.

It did not take long for you to climb once more towards the precipice, unraveling beautifully beneath his skilled mouth. Hawks drank deeply from your release, prolonging each aftershock with slow caresses of his tongue. Only when your quivering stopped did he withdraw, his eyes twinkling mischievously as he cleaned his glistening chin.

As he swirled his tongue around his lips, savoring the last hints of you, you gazed up at him with heavy-lidded eyes. Your chest still heaved in languid aftershocks of pleasure, your limbs boneless and slack upon the plush cushions.

"Come here," you beckoned hoarsely, crooking a finger. Your body cried out to be filled after such thorough worship, muscles reflexively clenching around nothing inside.

Hawks obeyed without hesitation, crawling up to drape himself over your welcoming form once more. You gripped his shoulders firmly, flipping your positions with a playful show of wiry strength, and smiled down at him wickedly.

Grasping his aching length and rubbing the tip of his cock had him seeing stars. Hawks groaned unabashedly.

Slowly, you let him inside, savoring each velvet glide. Hawks bucked helplessly, claws scrabbling for purchase against the cushions as your sensual walls milked his length.

The pleasure you drew from Hawks was exquisite torture. Each roll of your hips sent fresh shockwaves through his twitching member, shattering his composure. He was reduced to begging, his nails scratched weakly at your thighs as you rode him to the brink.

"Please...I need to come," Hawks gasped, moving his hips upward in frantic little thrusts. His cock throbbed painfully with the desperate need for release.

You smiled down at him cruelly. "Beg for it." Your lips formed the words deliciously slowly, knowing their effect.

Hawks keened, wings fluttering uselessly. "Please let me cum p-please I wanna cum, I need..to please..”

Suddenly, you bore down on him, grinding your pelvis against his in brutal circles. The new angle sent Hawks reaching his high with a raw cry.

You quickly let him pull out as his cock pulsed and thick ropes of seed spilled forth, splattering his taut stomach in pearly ribbons. Hawks shuddered through wave after wave; your continued help milking every last drop from him.

Breathless and spent, he could only lay pliantly as you leaned down to collect his essence on your fingers. Your wicked tongue flicked out to taste, making Hawks twitch anew in oversensitivity.

You smiled softly, your expression gentling as you gazed upon Hawks' flushed, panting form. His chest still heaved mightily in the aftermath of his climax.

Reverently, you traced light patterns on his ribs and pecs with delicate fingers, soothing away any last tremors. Hawks hummed appreciatively at your tender touch, grasping one of your hands to press a lingering kiss to the palm.

"Come here, Birdie," you murmured, beckoning him into your open embrace. Hawks complied readily, nuzzling into the crook of your neck with a contented sigh. Your legs tangled together comfortably as his wings folded around you both like a feathery blanket.

No threats of capture or duty rules could penetrate the sanctity of that moment. There, held securely within your arms, Hawks felt at once protected yet free—freed from the shackles of self-doubt and expectation. He belonged, body and soul, to one who accepted him fully without judgment or demand.

Drowsiness began to take hold as your rhythmic caresses through soft-down lulled Hawks towards slumber. "Stay?" he mumbled into your skin, his voice blurred by oncoming sleep yet filled with gentle hope.

You kissed his forehead, followed by a whisper, "I’ll stay, promise." was the sweetest assurance Hawks could wish for.

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mydearestbeloved · 1 month ago

Text

Chapter 22 [Draft]

Sung Jinwoo/Trial Player!Reader

CW:

Inspired by @circeyoru ‘s “Future Power Couple”

[Masterlist🦋✨️]

“I’ll go ahead, Jinwoo,” you said softly, giving a brief nod to Adam White, the agent from the American Hunter Bureau. The man returned the gesture politely, professionalism etched into his features. You turned on your heels, already scanning the area for a secluded spot where you could teleport safely without attracting undue attention.

Before you could take more than a few steps, a hand gently but firmly grasped your left wrist. The contact stopped you mid-step, and you turned halfway, raising a brow in question.

“Jinwoo—” you started, but his expression stopped you before his words.

“Can you stay?” Jinwoo asked, his voice low, almost hesitant. His tone lacked its usual authority, replaced instead by something softer, almost… vulnerable. And so was his expression, the intensity in his grey eyes as they bore into yours, a quiet plea that he seemed unsure how you would respond to. It wasn’t an order or a casual suggestion—it was a genuine request. “Please.”

You blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the request coupled by the earnestness. His hand remained steady on your arm, his grip, while not forceful, neither was it loose.

Jinwoo was not someone who typically asked for anything, let alone in such a way.

You studied his face, weighing your options. Between the uncharacteristic pleading in his eyes, the whisper-soft quality of his voice, and his hold, it was clear he wouldn’t let go as easily as you would’ve liked. And you doubted it would be worth the trouble to try to convince him otherwise.

Still, seriously, of all the days I decide not to wear my mask, you internally lamented on your decision to forgo the subtle charm that helped mask your presence this time for the memorial service.

Despite your internal grumbling, you conceded with a sigh and allowed a small smile to grace your lips as you nodded.

“Alright.” you murmured, voice light.

At your response, Jinwoo’s neutral expression shifted ever so slightly—his features brightened in a way that was barely noticeable unless one was familiar with him. And unfortunately for you, you were.

Adam, meanwhile, shifted awkwardly on the sidelines. You glanced at him at the corner of your eye, suddenly remembering his presence, and felt a pang of sympathy for the agent. He must have felt incredibly out of place in this strange, silent exchange.

Adam cleared his throat, attempting to regain the momentum of the conversation. “Hunter Sung—”

Before he could finish, Jinwoo pulled you closer with a suddenness that caused you to stumble to his side. Your eyes widened slightly as his grip on your wrist slid to intertwine his fingers with yours.

“Whatever it is you want to tell me,” Jinwoo said calmly, his tone now laced with that quiet authority, “you can tell her.”

You stared at him, lips parting as if to speak but no words came.

The words were simple enough, it wasn’t so much what he said that caught you off guard—it was how he said it. The conviction in his voice was startling, as if his trust in you was absolute, and his words left no room for argument.

You didn’t even have time to recover when Jinwoo glanced down at you, his lips curving into a faint, warm and confident smile.

“She’s someone I can count on,” he added, as if that explained everything.

Adam blinked, visibly thrown off by Jinwoo’s rather blunt declaration. His gaze flickered between the two of you. “Ah, my apologies,” Adam spoke carefully. “Are you two perhaps…?”

Your head snapped toward Adam so quickly that under normal circumstances, you’d have felt a pang of vertigo.

“No!” you blurted out, voice sharper than intended as heat crept up your neck. Quickly regaining your composure, you cleared your throat before continuing more evenly, “You’ve got it wrong, Mr. White. What my friend here meant is that I’m privy to his… rather unique capabilities as a Hunter, and that I know how to keep my mouth shut.”

You managed to keep your tone as steady as possible, ignoring the subtle tightening sensation on your hand somewhere along your choice of words.

Bless Adam White, because he didn’t push further. Instead, he nodded politely, accepting your explanation without comment. “Understood. And please, call me Adam, Miss…?”

Adam stretched out his hand and you accepted it with a smile.

“(Name). Just (Name).”

---

After the conversation wrapped up, Adam escorted both of you to the car waiting nearby. As he excused himself to make a quick call—likely to inform his superiors about the additional “guest” accompanying Hunter Sung—you climbed into the back seat alongside Jinwoo.

It wasn’t until the car began moving that you realized: Jinwoo’s hand was still holding yours.

You glanced down at your entwined fingers, then up at him. Nudging his hand discreetly, hoping he’d take the hint.

He didn’t respond, his face calm and composed as if your silent protests didn’t exist.

You tried again, nudging him a little more insistently. “Jinwoo,” you whispered, “Let go.”

Still, nothing. He remained as nonchalant as ever, his focus seemingly on the passing scenery outside the car window.

Eventually, you gave up, resigned to the situation as you leaned back against the seat. If Jinwoo noticed your surrender, he didn’t show it, though the faint curve of his lips suggested he was aware.

Still, you couldn’t help but feel self-conscious under other’s occasional glances.

From his spot in the front seat, Adam’s eyes flicked toward the rearview mirror. His gaze lingered for a moment before quickly darting away. It was impossible not to, especially after he saw the way the S-ranker’s eyes glowed earlier when you’d referred to him as a “friend.”

Strangely, there was no intel about you, not any that Adam had received anyway. It was as if you went off the radar completely. But how was that possible, if you were this close to Hunter Sung Jinwoo?

The agent glanced between the two of you once or twice and wisely chose to remain silent.

The quiet hum of the engine filled the silence as Jinwoo sat beside you, his usual demeanor in place as if this casual intimacy was the most natural thing in the world. You, on the other hand, couldn’t help but feel acutely aware of his presence.

The coolness of his hand, how calloused it was.

When his thumb brushed against your skin briefly—a motion so fleeting you almost convinced yourself it didn’t happen.

As the vehicle continue to move nearing your destination, you silently wondered why, despite of it all, you couldn’t bring yourself to pull away.

---

Tis as you said, Mother.

Red’s voice echoed faintly in your mind, amusement dancing at the edges of her words.

She really does have them wrapped around her fingers!

You heard Trick’s giggles next, and the others joined in soon after. A cascade of light chimes in your head, each of them speaking in turn as they observed the woman named Norma Selner through your eyes. Their presence in your thoughts was both comforting and mildly distracting.

Norma, for her part, glanced in your direction briefly, likely sensing your gaze. You offered her a soft, unassuming smile and a polite nod. She returned the gesture before focusing her attention back on Jinwoo.

You mentally praised yourself, your children, and the system for the careful layering of enchantments that blanketed your nature so thoroughly. To fool someone like Norma Selner at first glance—someone with her unique gift—was no small feat.

Speaking of the system…

Are you going to intervene? The tone you used in your mind calm but probing. You know what she’s capable of, don’t you?

The response was silence. Not a sound, not a whisper. Nothing.

You sighed inwardly. Really, the empty reply didn’t surprise you. If the system had no objection, it meant the matter was left to you to handle. Typical.

---

Norma Selner was trapped in darkness.

It stretched infinitely in every direction, the pitch-black void with no sign of life. Nothing but an overwhelming emptiness. An endless abyss, where no light penetrated and no sound carried. The air was cold, almost biting, yet it felt weightless and suffocating all at once.

She turned frantically, searching for something—anything—that could anchor her in this oppressive nothingness.

Her breathing quickened as she tried to move, but the weight of the void pressed against her limbs, making her movements sluggish. Frantic, searching for something—anything—that could anchor her in this nothingness.

When her eyes drifted upward, she saw it.

A presence loomed above her, formless yet all-encompassing. Its gaze piercing and ancient, and it was staring back at her, dissecting her, peeling away every layer of her being.

It filled her with an indescribable, primal fear.

A scream clawed at her throat, but before she could release it, a faint glow fluttered at the edge of her vision.

A butterfly.

Delicate and luminous as it danced in the void. A tiny beacon, a stark contrast to the surrounding darkness.

“Come with us!” chimed a chorus of soft, bell-like voices.

Her trembling legs moved on instinct, her body scrambling to follow the glittery trail left behind without a second thought.

The abyss seemed to shift as she ran, the oppressive darkness trailing after her, neither rushing nor retreating. Instead, it moved as though it were tethered to the guiding light.

The void began to change.

The darkness beneath her feet gave way to splashes of crimson, blooming into vivid red spider lilies, their petals stark against the blackness. With every step she took, the flowers spread further, their roots twisting into the emptiness and replacing it with something tangible.

Bare feet splashed into shallow water, the sound oddly grounding, sending ripples across its surface. She looked down, startled, to see the night sky reflected perfectly in the liquid mirror beneath her. Above her, stars shimmered like diamonds scattered across the vastness of space.

She came to a stop, breathless, her heart pounding in her chest. The butterfly of light had vanished, leaving her alone amidst the endless field of red flowers that seemed to sway with an unseen breeze. Gone with them the fear that had gripped her prior.

And then she felt it.

Warmth.

It radiated through her body and soul, soothing every nerve and easing every ounce of tension she carried, melting away like frost under the morning sun. She barely noticed as a pair of hands cradled her face gently, tilting it upward.

Norma found herself staring at a figure clad in flowing white. Under the veil, molten gold eyes met her own. They were luminous yet distant, like sunlight filtered through a mist. She couldn’t look away.

The figure exuded an aura of pure, untainted comfort. Norma felt her knees weaken under the weight of their presence, not from fear, but from an overwhelming sense of belonging.

“Wake up,” the figure mouthed, tender yet commanding.

Norma’s lips parted as if to respond, but she couldn’t form the words. Their warmth was intoxicating and she felt herself sinking into the divine embrace, wanting nothing more than to remain there. Forever.

But the words came again, firmer this time, like a gentle pull back to reality.

“Wake up.”

---

Norma Selner jolted awake, gasping for breath.

The fluorescent lights of the meeting room above her felt harsh against her eyes. It was also loud with commotion, voices overlapping as figures moved in her periphery, while she could barely process her surroundings. Everything felt distant and distorted.

“I apologize, Mr. Sung, Miss (Name),” came a calm yet firm voice. It was Michael Conner, the deputy director. His tone carried a measured mix of authority and unease. “Our agents stepped out of line.”

Words were exchanged, but Norma couldn’t register them. Her trembling hands clutched her head, tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, though whether from fear or something else entirely, she couldn’t tell

The deputy director’s voice broke through again, this time directed at her.

“Mrs. Selner? What’s wrong?”

She blinked rapidly through her blurred vision, chest still heaving heavily.

“You’re sweating profusely,” Michael said, filled with concern. “Are you feeling ill?”

Norma tried to respond, but her throat felt dry, and her thoughts remained scattered.

“It seems Mrs. Selner isn’t feeling well today,” Michael added, his tone returned to professional and polite as he spoke to Jinwoo. “Can we contact you another time?”

“Wait.”

Somehow, Norma could single out that soft, melodic voice through the haze.

“I’m a healer. I can at least stabilize her condition, if you’ll allow me.”

Michael looked uncertain, but after a quick glance at Norma’s state, he nodded reluctantly. “Please, if you’re able to help her.”

You moved closer to the trembling woman, careful not to overwhelm her with sudden movements. Kneeling beside her, you gently placed your hands on either side of her face. She flinched at the contact, but the moment your magic flowed through her, she stilled.

Like sunlight breaking through clouds, warmth enveloped her once again, though it was softer, less overwhelming than—

Her breathing slowed, and the trembling in her limbs subsided.

Norma finally looked up, meeting your gaze.

“Y-you…” she croaked, her voice hoarse and weak.

“Shh,” you interrupted softly, your tone soothing. “Mrs. Selner, please focus on calming yourself first, alright? Everything else can wait.”

Though your voice was kind, there was a gentle finality to your words. Despite the comfort you exuded, Norma couldn’t shake the weight of something absolute—an unspoken order she had no choice but to obey.

Her lips pressed together in silent compliance as she nodded faintly, allowing herself to bask in the warmth of your touch a moment longer.

---

"My..."

It was faint, distant yet heavy, reverberating with its own brand resonance, an echo from the depths of the pitch-black void.

"My...Lord..."

There it was again—the voice that whispered the moment you connected your space with Norma Selner’s consciousness, delving into the depths of her mind and subsequently brushing against something far older, far darker.

The first time, you stiffened at the sound, not out of fear but from recognition. There was something achingly familiar in the tone, something that resonated deep within you.

"Is…that...you…?"

As you stood at the border, the voice echoed again, closer this time, yet wavering, tinged with denial and something akin to long-lost longing.

"Impos...sible..."

You didn’t move to retreat as shadowy wisps emerged from the abyss, curling outward like hands reaching for you. They stopped mere inches from your form, and it was hard to make out through the ever-changing smoke, but you had a feeling that they were trembling, as if afraid their touch would break the illusion. Or was it unsure of their welcome?

There was a battle in your mind, with two opposing sides.

You should have been alarmed; the situation was rife with danger, uncertainty, and countless unknowns. Yet, you didn’t fully understand why, but you felt no fear. Something in you—a quiet yet inexplicable confidence—assured you that whatever dwelled in this darkness would not harm you.

And so, following the feeling you couldn’t name and ignoring the flicker of logic warning you against it, you raised your hands.

Your palms pressed gently against the shadowy wisps. The tendrils were both intangible and tangible; past the ephemeral smoke, ethereal to the touch, was cold as metal. They quivered at your gesture but didn’t pull away as you slowly guided them to your face, resting their hard edges against your cheeks.

The icy touch reminded you of a certain raven-haired protagonist. You closed your eyes, welcoming their hesitant presence with calm serenity.

"You...are...not..."

The voice grew clearer, imbued with an unplaceable mix of awe and turmoil.

"How...?"

You opened your eyes then, gazing into the abyss with a tenderness that seemed to soften even the restless darkness starting to embrace you whole in accordance to the crumbling space behind you.

You asked, your voice calm, serene.

“Are you upset?”

There was a pause, the silence stretching, until the shadowy thumb brushed against your cheek. Its sharp edges moving with the utmost care, as though they feared leaving a mark on your skin.

"No."

The answer came at last, heavy with an emotion you couldn’t quite identify.

"I...do…not...know..."

“Then,” you began, your voice unwavering as you continue to cradle his hands in yours.

“Will you let me see you again soon?”

---

After stabilizing Norma Selner’s condition and ensuring she was in no immediate danger, you and Jinwoo were escorted to his car.

As Adam’s car disappeared down the street, Jinwoo was the first to speak.

“Is it really okay?” his tone measured, though his gaze was sharp as he watched you. “Showing your powers to her like that.”

Your eyes remained on the direction the agent’s vehicle had gone, a butterfly trailed discreetly behind it. Jinwoo spotted the second one you had planted on Norma Selner earlier, fluttering innocuously on her shoulder.

“She only saw a glimpse,” you answered smoothly. “Besides, there’s no point in hiding from someone like her. She’ll find out sooner than later, and I’d rather she learn under my terms.”

Jinwoo’s eyes narrowed. “You know what she’s truly capable of?”

You finally turned to him; your expression as unreadable as they were distant. “Yes.”

“So, I’m guessing it’s a fail?”

You gave him a flat look before answering. “Your powers have no limits, Jinwoo. Her abilities won’t work on you.”

Jinwoo absorbed that information in silence, then added, “Or on you.”

You didn’t confirm or deny it, only staring back at him with an inscrutable gaze.

Between the two of you, this was familiar by now, an indication that this was as far as you could tell him, as far as the system would let you anyway. There was no need for words, and Jinwoo could proudly say that he could take it with a stride now.

He gestured to his car.

“Let me drive you home,” Before you could decline, he added, “I want to talk to you.”

---

The car ride was quiet, the hum of the engine the only sound filling the space between you. You sat in the front passenger seat, your gaze wandering on the passing scenery outside the window, where other vehicles blur by.

“So,” you began, breaking the quiet, “what is it?”

Jinwoo tightened his grip on the steering wheel, his eyes fixed on the road ahead.

“It’s overdue, I owe you an apology,” he said, his voice steady but tinged with hesitation. “For back then—at my rank re-evaluation.”

He heard a soft sigh and Jinwoo snuck a quick glance as you shifted in your seat. You were looking straight ahead now, expression still hard to read.

“I should’ve been more careful,” he continued, the words spilling out faster now, tinged with regret. “You told me before, that you wanted to stay hidden, and I should’ve respected that. I admit I got…distracted. Too caught up in wanting to show you how far I’d come. But that’s no excuse for crossing your boundaries like that.”

He took a deep breath before adding, “I’m sorry.”

“Jinwoo…” Your voice was too quiet. He wondered if he somehow messed up again.

“I’m sorry too.”

That was the last thing Jinwoo expected to hear. His grip on the steering wheel momentarily loosening as he caught himself. He shot you a quick glance a second time before returning his eyes to the road.

“Why are you apologizing? You didn’t—”

“I was high-strung that day,” you cut him off gently, probably already anticipating his protest. “I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. I forgive you. Just…” You paused, turning to look at him. “Just tell me in advance next time you’re planning to pull something like that. Clearly.” You emphasized, though your gaze softened.

“Like when you wanted me to accompany you in meeting the U.S. Hunter Bureau just now.”

The road was mercifully empty as Jinwoo risked another glance at you, and the sight of your expression made his chest tighten unexpectedly.

“Thank you for that.”

The setting sun illuminated your face as you said it sincerely. The way your eyes shine with unmistakable fondness, expression warm and tender. The shy smile tugging at your lips, carrying an undeniable gentleness. Your unwavering attention. All of it—at this moment—directed solely at him.

How utterly lovely.

Jinwoo’s throat felt dry, and he quickly looked back at the road.

“R-right. You’re welcome. I mean—” He stumbled over his words, the tips of his ears burned. “I forgive you too…”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw your shoulders shaking slightly as you covered your mouth. Failing to prevent a few giggle that managed to slip by.

Jinwoo felt heated up—the warmth a similar kind to when you held hands or when you were in pretty close proximity—and he had half a mind to crank up the AC.

Still, he couldn’t help the giddiness. Because in that moment, he didn’t mind embarrassing himself if it meant hearing your sweet laughter again.

End Note:

Unfinished Draft of [28/11/2024] -

I want to ask for your opinions this time 🙏

#solo leveling imagine #solo leveling #only i level up #solo leveling x reader #sung jin woo x reader #sung jinwoo x reader #jinwoo sung x reader #sung jinwoo #solo leveling jinwoo #sung jin woo #yandere sung jinwoo #solo leveling fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic #reader insert #x reader #fem reader #female reader

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bitchiswild · 11 months ago

Text

President’s Daughter

GP Yujin x F! Reader Warnings: choking, squirting, cream pie, etc. Word Count: 2.7k A/n: This has been in my drafts for so long FINALLY ITS OUT UGH

Being the president's daughter has its good and bad sides, especially when you're a target. Right after your dad became president, he insisted on getting you a bodyguard, just in case. You didn't like the idea at all—having someone always watching you, being bossy, and all that. But your dad wanted you safe, so you went along with it. That's when he introduced you to Yujin.

"Y/n, this is Yujin, your bodyguard. She's here to keep you safe," Dad said, a hint of exasperation in his voice.

I rolled my eyes as I glanced at Yujin, sizing her up with an air of superiority. When I looked back at Dad, I made a show of sighing dramatically. "Fine, whatever," I muttered, reluctantly extending my hand towards Yujin. "Hi, I guess. You're supposed to be protecting me or something."

Yujin gave me a once-over before shaking my hand, her expression neutral as if she had dealt with bratty kids like me before. She simply nodded in response, clearly unimpressed by my attitude.

As the days passed, I made it abundantly clear to Yujin that having a bodyguard was more of an inconvenience than a necessity. I would often complain about her presence, insisting that I didn't need someone constantly watching over me.

One afternoon, while walking through the crowded streets, I grew increasingly irritated by the way Yujin hovered protectively beside me. "Seriously, Yujin, you don't have to follow me everywhere like a lost puppy," I snapped, earning a disapproving glance from her.

Ignoring her silent reprimand, I veered off the path, determined to shake her off. But no matter how hard I tried, Yujin remained steadfast, never letting me out of her sight.

Frustrated and feeling rebellious, I decided to test her limits. "I'm going to grab a coffee. Don't follow me," I declared, darting into a nearby café.

To my surprise, Yujin didn't budge from her position outside. Despite my attempts to push her away, she stood her ground, unwavering in her commitment to protect me.

Defeated, I begrudgingly returned to her side, my earlier defiance replaced by a begrudging acceptance. It was clear that Yujin was more than just a bodyguard; she was a force to be reckoned with, determined to fulfill her duty regardless of my protests.

Reluctantly, I conceded defeat, realizing that perhaps having Yujin by my side wasn't such a bad thing after all.

As you spent more time with Yujin, something changed inside you. Despite originally resisting her, you started to feel drawn to her in a way you couldn't explain.

You discovered that behind Yujin's serious exterior was someone who genuinely cared about you. She didn't judge your flaws; instead, she supported and guided you as you opened up to her.

Through your conversations and shared experiences, you learned to let go of your pride and embrace vulnerability. Yujin became more than just a bodyguard; she became a trusted friend who made you feel accepted and understood.

One night, after drinking too much at a party, you found yourself in a vulnerable situation. Yujin, always watching out for you, came to your rescue, guiding you safely through the crowded streets.

In that moment of vulnerability, you saw Yujin's unwavering dedication and kindness. It made you realize how much you cared for her and appreciated everything she did for you.

From that night on, your feelings for Yujin continued to grow, fueled by gratitude and admiration for the incredible person she was.

As the day of your date arrived, you felt a mix of excitement and nerves. Meeting at a cozy café, you were greeted by Yujin, who surprised you with her casual yet stylish outfit.

Sitting together in a quiet corner, you found yourselves engrossed in easy conversation, punctuated by shared laughter that seemed to light up the room. Yujin's usual serious demeanor gave way to genuine smiles and laughter, and you couldn't help but be charmed by her warmth.

As the evening progressed, you found yourself drawn to Yujin in a way you hadn't expected. Her laughter was infectious, and you couldn't resist joining in. Despite her typically reserved nature, she seemed relaxed and happy in your company.

Leaving the café with a promise to meet again soon, you felt a sense of hope and anticipation for what the future might hold—a future filled with more moments of laughter and happiness shared with Yujin, the woman who had captured your heart.

You still acted like a brat, clinging to your status as a daddy's girl, which seemed to define much of your behavior. However, everything changed when Yujin stepped in and challenged you, ultimately putting you in your place.

Yujin's firm voice cut through the tension, her hands gripping your neck as her movements intensified. "You've been getting on my nerves all day, princess," she declared, her thrusts becoming more forceful as you trembled beneath her touch. "I've had enough of your erratic behavior. If your daddy didn't set you straight, then I will." With each powerful thrust, she asserted her dominance, driving her point home with undeniable intensity.

The room was filled with the unmistakable sounds of your pussy squelching and your whimpers echoing off the walls. Your tightness enveloped Yujin's cock like a vice grip, eliciting moans of pleasure from her lips. Every vein on her throbbing shaft pulsed against your sensitive walls, sending waves of sensation coursing through your body.

"Y-Yujin," you whimpered, your body jerking with each powerful thrust. "What is it, princess?" She asked, her gaze intense as she looked down at you, her necklace dangling tantalizingly close above your face.

"F-Faster, p-please," you pleaded, your voice barely a whisper as desire surged through your veins.

With a wicked grin, Yujin increased her pace, driving into you with a relentless urgency that sent shivers down your spine. Her movements became more primal, each thrust hitting you with precision, igniting a fiery pleasure that consumed your senses.

As the intensity grew, so did the rawness of your desire, spilling out in a stream of dirty talk that only fueled the passion between you.

"You like that, baby?" Yujin growled, her voice husky with desire. "You like it when I fuck you like this, don't you? Tell me how much you want it."

Your breath hitched as you moaned in response, words tumbling from your lips in a fervent confession of lust. "Yes, Yujin, yes! I want it so bad. I need you to fuck me harder, deeper. Make me yours completely."

Her grip on you tightened as she thrust into you with an almost savage fervor, each movement pushing you closer to the edge of ecstasy. With every gasp and moan, you surrendered yourself to the intoxicating pleasure of being utterly consumed by her.

Yujin flipped you onto your stomach, pulling your ass towards her as she thrust her cock inside you, eliciting a sharp cry of pleasure from your lips. Her movements quickened, driving deeper into you with each powerful thrust.

"You're gonna listen to me from now on, right, princess?" Yujin demanded, her voice commanding as she held you close. Your face buried in the pillow, you were too overwhelmed with pleasure to respond, lost in the sensation of being thoroughly ravished.

Noticing your lack of response, Yujin tightened her grip on your hair, pulling you closer to her as she whispered huskily into your ear. "I asked you a question, princess," she murmured, her thrusts never faltering as she asserted her dominance over you with each

"Y-Yes, I promise I'll be a good girl," you cried out, your voice trembling with arousal as the tightness in your stomach grew more intense with each of Yujin's powerful thrusts.

Your body quivered with anticipation, the sensations overwhelming as you felt yourself nearing the edge of ecstasy. Yujin's relentless thrusts only fueled the fire burning within you, pushing you closer and closer to the brink of release.

"My good girl," Yujin growled, her voice dripping with satisfaction as she felt you trembling beneath her. "You belong to me now, princess. Say it."

"Yes, I belong to you," you moaned, your words punctuated by gasps of pleasure as Yujin's thrusts continued to drive you wild.

"That's right," Yujin breathed, her grip on your hair tightening as she claimed you completely. "You're mine to control, to pleasure, to punish... however I see fit."

The mixture of dominance and desire in her words sent a thrill through you, amplifying the pleasure building within you to dizzying heights. With each thrust, you felt yourself surrendering more fully to Yujin's power, lost in the intoxicating bliss of being

The bed began to pound against the wall with each passionate thrust, echoing the rhythm of your pleasure-filled union. The sound of skin meeting skin reverberated through the room, punctuated by the occasional sharp slap that added an extra layer of sensation to the electrifying atmosphere.

"Shit, baby, I'm gonna cum," Yujin groaned, her voice laced with urgency as she felt the climax building within her. "I'm gonna fill you up so good."

The thought of Yujin releasing herself inside you sent a surge of desire coursing through your veins, pushing you closer to the edge of your own release. "Yes! Cum in me," you cried out, your voice a desperate plea as you welcomed the impending explosion of ecstasy that awaited you both.

With one final, powerful thrust, Yujin buried herself deep inside you, her body tensing as she poured herself into you. The sensation of her release triggered your own, sending you both over the edge into a whirlwind of pleasure that left you breathless.

As your body shook with the aftershocks of pleasure, Yujin turned you around, her gaze fixated on your abused pussy, still leaking with her warm cum. With deliberate movements, she reached down and pushed her fingers into your sensitive folds, eliciting a whimper of pleasure from your lips as you felt the familiar sensation coursing through you once again.

Removing her fingers, glistening with your combined arousal, Yujin brought them to her lips and sucked them clean, her eyes never leaving yours as she savored the taste of your shared cum. Then, without hesitation, she repeated the motion, pushing her fingers into your mouth, urging you to taste the evidence of your shared passion.

You complied eagerly, sucking on her fingers with a hunger born from the intoxicating pleasure you had just experienced together. The taste of her mingled with your own arousal only served to fuel the fire between you, igniting a newfound desire that lingered in the air long after your bodies had finally stilled.

The action reignited Yujin's hard on, so she pulled you close to her, her arousal evident as she positioned you with your legs folded, knees next to your ears. "I-I can't, too sensitive," you mumbled, your body still buzzing from the intense pleasure you had just experienced.

Yujin, undeterred by your protest, teased your entrance with her throbbing cock, the anticipation sending shivers down your spine. "One more, princess, give me one more," she demanded huskily, her voice dripping with need as she pushed her cock inside you once again.

The sensation of her entering you anew was overwhelming, and you couldn't help but scream out in ecstasy as pleasure washed over you like a tidal wave. Your moans filled the room, mingling with Yujin's own guttural sounds of pleasure as she thrust into you with abandon.

But amidst the pleasure, there were also whimpers of delight escaping your lips, the intensity of the moment threatening to overwhelm your senses entirely. Yujin's dirty talk only fueled the fire burning within you, each whispered word driving you closer and closer to the edge of oblivion.

"Fuck, you feel so good, princess," Yujin growled, her voice strained with desire as she ravished you relentlessly. "You're mine, all mine. Say it."

"Yes, I'm yours," you gasped, your voice a desperate plea as you surrendered yourself completely to her. "Take me, Yujin, fuck me until I can't think straight."

After your desperate plea, Yujin's demeanor shifted, her movements becoming rougher and more commanding. With a primal growl, she gripped your hips firmly, her thrusts gaining in intensity as she took you with a fierce determination.

"Yeah, that's it, baby," Yujin grunted, her voice husky with desire. "You're mine, all mine. Gonna fuck you real good."

Each thrust was a forceful reminder of her dominance, driving you deeper into a state of euphoria as you surrendered to the pleasure of being thoroughly ravished by her.

"Take it, princess," Yujin growled, her breath hot against your ear. "You're begging for it. Can't get enough of me, can you?"

Driven by an insatiable hunger, Yujin unleashed her desires upon you with unbridled ferocity, pushing you to the limits of pleasure and pain.

"Fuck, you're so tight," Yujin moaned, her voice thick with lust. "Gonna make you scream my name."

With each powerful thrust, you felt yourself teetering on the brink of oblivion, your senses overwhelmed by the sheer force of Yujin's passion.

"That's it, baby," Yujin encouraged, her words a mix of pleasure and command. "Cum for me. Let me feel you unravel around me."

And as she claimed you as her own in the most primal of ways, you found yourself lost in a whirlwind of sensation, completely consumed by the raw, unbridled ecstasy of being utterly dominated by her.

"Fuck, I'm gonna make you squirt," Yujin growled, her voice dripping with anticipation as she sensed your impending release.

“Y-Yujin” You whimpered.

As the pressure inside you reached its peak, Yujin's words spurred you on even further. "That's it, princess, squirt on my cock," she urged, her voice laced with desire as she drove you towards your climax.

With a primal scream of pleasure, you felt yourself gushing around her, your juices flowing freely as you reached the pinnacle of ecstasy. Yujin's movements never faltered as she milked every last drop of pleasure from your trembling body, driving you to heights of pleasure you had never known before.

As the waves of pleasure washed over you, you couldn't help but cry out Yujin's name, your voice a mix of ecstasy and desperation as you surrendered yourself completely to the overwhelming pleasure coursing through you.

Yujin continued to thrust into you relentlessly, her movements driving you both to the brink of ecstasy. The sensation of her cock deep inside you, combined with the erotic charge of her commanding presence, ignited a firestorm of pleasure within you.

"Fuck, I'm gonna cum inside you," Yujin groaned, her voice thick with desire as she felt her release building. "You're gonna take all of it, princess."

Your body quivered in anticipation as you felt the heat of Yujin's impending climax radiating through her. With each powerful thrust, you urged her on, craving the sensation of her hot release filling you completely.

As the intensity reached its peak, Yujin's control slipped away, and she succumbed to the overwhelming pleasure coursing through her. With a guttural cry of ecstasy, she buried herself deep inside you, her cock pulsating as she unleashed wave after wave of her essence into you.

You cried out in pleasure as you felt Yujin's hot cum flooding you, filling you up with every drop of her release. The sensation of being completely filled by her only intensified your own climax, sending you both spiraling into a euphoric frenzy of pleasure that left you breathless and completely sated in each other's arms.

After the intense passion and pleasure subsided, Yujin gently withdrew from you, her movements tender as she held you close in her arms. The air was thick with the scent of your shared intimacy as you both lay entwined, basking in the afterglow of your encounter.

Yujin's touch was gentle as she caressed your skin, her fingers tracing soothing patterns along your body as she whispered sweet words of affection and reassurance. "You did so well, princess," she murmured, her voice soft with tenderness. "You were absolutely incredible."

Feeling utterly spent yet content in her embrace, you nuzzled closer to her, savoring the warmth and comfort of her presence. Yujin's loving embrace enveloped you like a protective cocoon, her touch a balm to your soul after the intensity of your shared passion.

As you lay together in the quiet intimacy of the moment, you felt a profound sense of connection with Yujin, a bond forged through the raw vulnerability and intimacy you had shared. And in that moment, you couldn't help but feel grateful for the unexpected twist of fate that had brought Yujin into your life.

"Thanks to my dad, I met you," you whispered, your voice filled with gratitude as you looked into Yujin's eyes. "My bodyguard, my girlfriend... I'm so lucky to have you."

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chibinasuu · 1 month ago

Text

Sanji x Reader ― baking; sweater

part of the cozy holidays event

🎁 ― anonymous tags: sfw, pure fluff, GN!reader, no use of y/n

Your thin silk pajamas did nothing to shield you from a draft of cold air that made its way into your bedroom, making you shiver as you pulled the blanket tighter around you.

After a bit of mental preparation to brace for the cold, you threw the blanket away, got out of bed, and quickly pulled on the thick blue sweater that was draped over the chaise at the side of the bed. You inhaled the familiar scent of a masculine, musky cologne infused into the garment – tinged with a hint of tobacco – and smiled. You had your own collection of sweaters, of course, but none were as comfy as his.

You leisurely made your way to where you knew Sanji was.

He had woken up early this morning, kissing your forehead sweetly before he got out of bed, whilst you opted to sleep in for a while longer, still worn out from the party that the crew had thrown you the night before.

As you leaned against the doorway to the kitchen, you saw that Sanji had not only been busy with preparing breakfast for the crew. Every inch of the room was now also decked in winter decorations – boughs of holly, tinsel, fairy lights, you name it. Chopper had introduced the crew to Drum Kingdom holiday traditions way back when, and it had since become a beloved annual event onboard the Sunny.

It also seemed that the festivities did not stop at the decor, as the air was filled with the warm aroma of ginger, cinnamon, and clove.

You silently watched your husband as he rolled out some dough on the flour-dusted counter.

It still felt surreal, to refer to Sanji as your husband.

Your lips involuntarily turned up at the memory of yesterday. Your and Sanji’s wedding was a small affair on the deck of the Thousand Sunny. You had exchanged rings to the beautiful melodies of Brook’s violin, then your Captain excitedly pronounced you officially wed, with only the crew as your witnesses. Sanji had had to prepare his own wedding cake and feast, but he did it happily. He would never trust anyone else on the ship to do it anyway – everything needed to be perfect for the special day. After dinner, Sanji carried you through the threshold of your brand new quarters – some unused storage space that Franky magically transformed into a beautiful honeymoon suite – everyone cheered, and then you all partied and drank away the Sunny’s entire supply of alcohol.

It was the best night of your life.

Sanji was carefully cutting out the cookie dough into the shape of little people when you called out teasingly, “Good morning, my dear husband.”

Your new title for him, combined with the sight of you in his sweater, was apparently too much for Sanji to handle. Blood gushed from his nose and you laughed as he desperately reached into his pocket, pulling out a handkerchief to staunch the bleeding before any drop could contaminate his dough.

You loved how you could still affect him so, even after years of being together.

You helped Sanji arrange the little gingerbread men on the baking tray as he quickly prepared the frosting. Once the cookies were in the oven, Sanji picked you up and placed you on the cleared countertop, positioning himself in between your legs. Finally having a moment of respite in his busy morning, he took the time to languidly gaze at you, his blue eyes overwhelmingly full of love, “Hi.”

You couldn’t stop the giggle from escaping your mouth as a surge of happiness washed over you, “Hi.”

Sanji took hold of your left hand, admiring the thin silver band around your ring finger, before lifting it to his lips, “I still can’t believe you’re officially mine.”

You smiled and threaded the fingers of your other hand through his soft blond hair, “And you’ll have me for the rest of our lives.”

You sighed blissfully as Sanji showered you with lazy kisses – on your hand, and your forehead, then your cheek, down to your waiting lips. He hooked his index and middle fingers into the collar of your – well, his – sweater, pulling it down to expose your neck before leaving kisses there too. His lips were traversing upward to your ear when the shrill ring of the timer interrupted him.

Not wanting the cookies to burn, he reluctantly stepped away from you with a smile and took out the tray from the oven.

After the cookies had cooled down, Sanji snapped off an arm of one of the gingerbread men, and fed it to you, “How does it taste, darling?”

“Perfect, as always.”

You and Sanji stood side by side, decorating the freshly baked goods with colorful frosting. You drew curly eyebrows on one of the little people-shaped cookies, and a vertical line across the left eye of another. Sanji frosted a long nose onto one, and an x-shaped mark on the chest of the next one.

The room was filled with the echoes of your laughter as the two of you competed on who could draw the most realistic-looking gingerbread skeleton.

And you thought to yourself, it really couldn’t get any better than this.

a/n: is this the most tooth-rotting fluff i have ever written?? probably!

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ilovehimyourhonour · 2 years ago

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wouldn’t dream of it

📂 bf! jung wooyoung x reader . you weren’t clear and wooyoung thought you were breaking up with him . slight angst , a bit of fluff , comfort .

a/n writing random pieces as my inbox/drafts sits with request . (edit — can’t believe this got as much love as it did lol) .

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Vision turning hazy, Wooyoung falters in his steps—his eyes prick with tears as he watches you turn away from him, something you’ve never done. But has there ever been an argument this severe? Have the two of you ever yelled at each other with this much anger and heat? The rare times you did argue the atmosphere was still comforting, the two of you would sit down and talk things over. Wooyoung would hesitantly reach for your hands, you would smile softly and intertwine your fingers with his—he’d then lean forward, his lips brushing your forehead as he mumbles a “Im sorry.” Everything from there would work itself out, but as Wooyoung swayed where he stood, the orange lantern hanging above his head casting a dim light over him and the surrounding area, he knew the two of you weren’t going to solve this in a matter of minutes.

“Are you even listening to me?” He blinks back another rush of tears, they build within his throat. “Of course you’re not,” you chuckle. “Stupid of me to assume you would be.”

Your eyes are red, your cheeks are stained with the tears that had managed to escape—the collar of Wooyoung’s your shirt sports a few patches where your tears had fallen and seeped into the material. Wooyoung watches your hands shake as you reach up to brush the wetness from your cheeks.

“Can you say something, Wooyoung?” You’re annoyed. He parts his lips, only a strangled grunt leaves his mouth, the tangled tears, worry, and heartbreak resting in his throat blocks the words he wishes he could say. You hum softly, turning away from him—nearing the front door of your apartment. “I think we need a break, Woo.”

Panic surges through Wooyoung, bringing each aspect of himself to a crumbling point. Never has he ever had the desire to hear those words leave your mouth, never once had he ever desired to say them himself—no matter the circumstance he always wanted to get through it with you. He stumbles forward, leaving the kitchen and its orange glow behind as he pushes himself to the entrance—desperate to catch you before you left him.

Your backs facing him as he reaches you, you’re mid swinging your jacket over your shoulder when his two arms wrap around your knees—leaving you to frown and crane your neck. Your boyfriend has his face pressed into the back of your thighs, muffled sobs soaking into the materiel of your sweatpants, his shoulders violently shake with his cry. “I. Love. You,” his words are broken between hiccups.

“I love you, Wooyoung.” Your still facing the door, his tight grip on your legs preventing you from turning to face his kneeling figure. “Let me go,” you softly mutter as you blindly reach behind you—fingers brushing through his hair gently. His arms circle your legs tighter, his head shaking as he lets a few more hiccups shake his figure. You sigh and reach for his arms, pulling yourself from his hold—his heart splits in half and another surge of tears trail down his cheeks, dripping from his jaw and chin.

“No,” he chokes out. “Please don’t leave me,” his voice is hoarse and shaky. “One more chance, one more chance. Please.”

You’re now facing him, frowning as you drop to your knees—mirroring his position. “I just need one more chance,” his words are now barely above a whisper. You practically coo at his sad and desperate expression, your bottom lip can’t help but quiver as you reach out and brush the bangs from his eyes.

“I will never leave you, Wooyoung.”

“You said we needed a break.”

You sigh, squeezing your eyes shut. “I didn’t mean we should break up, darling. I meant we need a break from this,” he shifts so he sits crossed legged on the floor, you follow immediately. You watch his fingers twitch in his lap, as they always did—so you reach forward, taking his hand in yours. “We need time to calm down and then talk things over.”

“I am calm,” you chuckle softly—Wooyoung’s fingers tighten around yours at the familiar sound. “I don’t want to be alone.”

The heartbroken look in his eyes keeps you at his side, the two of you sitting in the entrance for hours. Nothing but soft touches, gentle kisses, and I love you’s being exchanged between the two of you. But somewhere between confessing your love for each other and brushing the hairs from one another’s faces, apologizes are exchanged. Woo promises he’ll be a better boyfriend, to which you expressed how you already believed him to be the best boyfriend you could ever ask for.

“Don’t ever break up with me,” Wooyoung mumbles into your shoulder as he holds you in his lap.

You chuckle softly as you bring your arms around his neck. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

#📂 — ilovehimyourhonour #wooyoung imagines #wooyoung #wooyoung x reader #wooyoung ateez #jung wooyoung #jung wooyoung x reader #jung wooyoung imagine #ateez fluff #ateez imagines #ateez x reader #kpop #kpop imagines #kpop boys

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leclercss · 1 month ago

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Paris, je t'aime (Charles Leclerc), Part 3

Masterlist

plot: it's almost three years since your tumultuous relationships with Lewis and Charles came crashing down. but you find your self in a new city with new beginnings and new ways to fuck up your love life. that's no thanks to a cheeky frenchman who's set you up on a double date with someone oh so familiar.

pairings: charles leclerc x fem!reader

warnings: (+18) mentions of smut, cheating, violence and some swearing

authors note: part trois, enjoy. i have been awol, i'm sorry. i literally wrote this and accidentally deleted my draft. fml. this chapter is going to focus on Charles' perspective of the break up. it may explain a lot of his feelings, i hope you enjoy

word count: 5.2k

taglist: @toppersjeep @janeholt3, @princess-siba, @nichmeddar, @tremendousandsonorouswords, @cmleitora, @victoriaholland, @amalialeclerc, @queensofshinigamis, @tempo-rary-fix, @starmanv, @happylittlereader, @trouble-sistar, @lightdragonrayne, @persephonemv1, @dreamingofautopia

*Charles POV*

As the sun peaks through the curtains and hits my face, I find myself rolling over in bed. It's been three years since we've shared a bed, but it's almost instinct for arm to reach out to [Y/N] and for me to wrap around her body. Only this time, my arm finds itself falling onto the mattress.

Confused, I open my eyes to find that the space in the bed beside me is no longer occupied. She's no longer in the bed and all that Charles is left with is the scent of her perfume that has lingered onto the sheets and a small piece of paper with some writing.

I pick up the note in my hand, feeling dread that [Y/N] found yesterday all a little bit too much and she's decided that she doesn't want to see me any more.

’ I promise I’m not running away this time, I just think that we both deserve the chance for a clear head in the morning.

I’m so grateful that I got the chance to see you again.

Amour xxx ’

A small sense of reliefs courses its way through my body but I don't feel any better at the fact that she's no longer in the bed beside me. I don't want a clear head because how is that possible? Because as I fell asleep, last night, with [Y/N] in my arms, all I could think about is how much of the last three years of my life had been a lie. But it wasn't a lie, because the last time I saw her almost feels like yesterday, and I remember it so well.

*3 years ago*

“Lewis is moving to New York," [Y/N] blurts out.

"He's moving to New York?" I ask. My eyebrows furrow at her comment, it wasn't what I was expecting [Y/N] to say, after all I had just suggested that maybe we find our own place in the near future. But hey, if Lewis wants to move to another continent, this was even better in my eyes. Hell, I'd even be willing to drive him to the airport if it meant that he could get out of our lives quicker.

No more hidden moments, no more sneaking around. We could just be us. We're good together and sure, it's been an unconventional journey, but I know that [Y/N] is worth it.

I'm still staring down at [Y/N] as she looks up at me before nodding. I can't help but smile down at her and take her hand in mine. We've had many intimate moments together, but what we've just shared has felt the most raw yet.

Fuck, I wanted her to choke me, I've never felt this crazy in love with a woman before. I'd cut my heart open for her.

"That's good, right?"

I notice [Y/N] gulp before she answers, "He's moving in a few weeks".

I nod. That's not too bad. It's not ideal for her living situation but we can and will figure this out.

"Okay, well if you need somewhere to stay, you can always stay here. We'll figure it out, okay? We'll get somewhere of our own if you want? But the important thing is, we can be together".

'Charles..."

"What’s wrong, amour?"

I try to ignore the shiver that runs through by body, ignoring all the red flags being waves, as [Y/N] lets out a sigh before closing her eyes. Okay, maybe moving in together is a little bit too much to ask but shouldn't she be happier that she's finally ending her sham of a marriage?

I'm still looking down at [Y/N] as I'm trying to figure out what's going on her head. Her hand is still in mine but it's now limp, lifeless. I thought she would be happier than this but maybe the ending of her marriage is much more complex than I thought. Maybe she's actually going to miss this guy? Is she sad that it's ending? Surely not, right?

"I... I ... Lewis is going to New York and he wants me to go with him".

Silence falls between the two of us as I've tried to process what [Y/N] just told me. My ears begin to ring and I'm questioning if what I've heard is actually real.

"And you told him no, right?" I ask. I almost feel stupid asking her this because to me, the answer is so obvious. But a few moments have now passed and the longer that she lays there, her limp hand in mine, the more nervous I become. I notice her chest to begin rising and falling. Rising and falling. It's getting quicker by each second and I'm not so sure about anything any more.

She looks guilty and nervous. Why hasn't she answered me yet?

"Amour, you told him no, right?" Charles asks again, this time there's a desperate tone to my voice. "I mean, you're not wearing your rings?"

But there's nothing that is coming from [Y/N]'s mouth and I almost feel like I'm having an outer body experience. She's seriously going to go? After everything?

I think I'm going to throw up.

But I love her, how could she...

No fuck this. Fuck this entirely. Fuck him and you know what, fuck her!

She still hasn't had the balls to answer me, sitting there, looking all innocent and shell shocked. She's just let me make love to her, let me bare my soul and show her my most intimate desires only to tell me that she's not only ending things with me but she's moving. Moving to New York of all places and with him? The man who has not only attempted to humiliate me on many ocassions, but has humiliated her for years.

The longer I look at her, the more I feel my heart breaking but also, the angrier I become. How could she do this to me, to us?

She's probably seeing every expression on my face that I'm experiencing. I'm not trying to hide it. Anger, confusion, heartbreak, regret, despair. But she's not reacting to any of it.

Surely this is a joke or else I'm the fucking joke? How could I have been so stupid?

My brain can't keep up with my body because before I can even realise it, I throw myself out from under the duvet cover. A couple of her discarded clothes lay in a pool by my feet as I swing them out of the bed. Picking them up, I throw them towards her on the bed behind me.

She still says nothing.

"You've got some fucking nerve, you know that right?" I spit as I begin to charge around the room, finding any of her belongings that I can and throwing them in her direction.

"Excuse me?"

My head snaps around in the direction of the bed, almost instinctively, as I try not to laugh at the surprise in her voice. Our eyes make contact and she flinches at the anger so prominent on my face.

"You're kidding me, right?"

But she's not joking. No, she still has this innocent look on her face, like a deer caught in headlights.

“I don’t understand," she mutters.

I scoff as I continue to pace around the room, not being able to listen to this any more.

"I get it, [Y/N]," he growls. [Y/N] flinches at my tone, cowering further under the duvet. "You got your wish. You finally got your husband to notice that you exist and for him to pretend like he even cares about you. He's finally going to stop fucking other girls for you. Congratulations. I'm really happy for you."

"No, you've misunderstood," [Y/N] pleads but I dismiss her.

"You know, if you wanted me to just fuck you once as revenge for your husband, I would have been more than happy to. But this sick game you've played, making me fall in love with you. I don't know how you can look at yourself in the mirror," I continue, spit almost spraying out of my mouth from the anger.

I didn't even notice [Y/N] climb out of the bed until I feel her hand gently on my arm.

"Charles, it's not like that. I'm not," she begins but she stops once I pull my arm away from her.

"Get off me," I mumble but she ignores me. Her hand finds it's way onto my arm once again.

"Charles, listen to me," she squeals but it's no use, I have no capacity for her excuses or lies any more.

"I said get off me," I growl, this time a little louder and she takes the blatant hint but she won't stop talking.

"Charles, you've got it all wrong".

I turn around to face her as my eyes bore through her skin with nothing but anger and hatred. Venom is brewing inside of me as she looks up at me with tearful eyes. A couple have spilled over onto her cheeks. Looking at her like this, it breaks me. It fucking hurts but all I can think about is what she's put me through and I have to push my sympathy aside.

"No, [Y/N], the only thing I've gotten wrong is trusting you. You know what, you and Lewis are made for each other. Users, liars and cheaters, that's what you are".

I think I've gone too far. Shit, that was too far but as I watch her burst into tears and try to grab onto me, pleading with me to stop and that it's all a big mistake, I know I can't take it back now.

I don't want to do this what I do next, but I can't stop myself.

"My friends were right about you," it's the first time since she's broken the news that she's moving to New York where there hasn't been anger in my voice. I almost find myself wincing at the look on [Y/N]'s face as my words cut her deeply. I've hit an insecurity of hers. My friends never trusted her. How could I ever trust someone so open to cheating on their husband? They thought I was a moron. They'd always questioned her story, was this entire story of Lewis being a cheating asshole even real? Was it just her excuse for me to so willingly sleep with her?

Honestly, I don't know. I don't even know what's really any more.

She sniffles, tears still streaming down her cheeks. "You really think that, Charles?"

No, I don't.

"I think... I think you should leave".

It takes her a moment before she nods. Picking the clothes up from the bed, that I'd thrown at her, she begins to put them onto her body which is now trembling.

Part of me is telling me that I'm being stupid, that it's all a mistake. I can't bare to watch her get ready and leave, almost accepting defeat.

I take one last look at her before leaving my bedroom and making my way to the living room. I won't watch her walk out of that door, because if I do, I think I'll try to stop her.

As I wait on the sofa, staring at the wall opposite me, I feel like I can hear my heart breaking into pieces, one by one. And it's only when I heard the front door close, that they all finally shatter at once.

*Present Day*

I can't tell you how many times I had thought about this day over the last three years. At least once a day. No word of a lie. My final moments with [Y/N] infiltrated every part of my life. Every time I went to bed, I had thought about her and her betrayal. Almost every day that I woke up, I felt the weight on my chest from the memory of her tears on that very day. She even appeared in my dreams, where that day never happened and went on to live our happily ever after. And more often than that, she appeared in my nightmares.

My mind was constantly taunting me and it didn't help that my best friends kept reminding me of my many mistakes and my poor errors in judgement but worst of all, how shitty of a person they had thought [Y/N] was. And while I wanted to agree with them, deep down I felt like this all had to be a lie. Because after everything that we had gone through, surely she couldn't have been faking it.

But when one day, a few months later, when Joris came home from a date with Whitney, he almost couldn't wipe the smile off his face. He had news to share.

"You don't have to worry about her any more," he told me, "she's gone now."

I tried to ignore the pain that I felt in my chest. I couldn't show Joris any more how badly this affected me. He'd been going ballistic at me for weeks already. "She moved then?"

"Yeah, Whitney said she went last Friday," Joris could hardly contain his happiness. "It's about time. Now you can move on and forget about her."

I nod as if I'm I'm agreeing with the idea of moving on. And I try, but it's just not enough because everything in London reminds me of her. I feel suffocated here and so I spend a few weeks back home in Monaco, but my mother senses that something is wrong and wants to get to the bottom of my moodiness and so I decide that maybe being back in Monaco won't give me the peace that I need right now.

But then, out of the blue, an old childhood friend on mine, Pierre, messages to say he'll be in Monaco that weekend and we meet up. Pierre felt like a guardian angel at the time, not that I would ever tell him that, but spending a weekend in Monaco with him felt refreshing to spend some time with someone who wasn't his family, wasn't his friends back in London or anyone who had some sort of connection to [Y/N].

And after not seeing each other for years, Pierre and I kept in touch, which ultimately led me to move to Paris. I thought it would help you know, make me forget about her.

In some ways it helped, I no longer had nightmares about her. I still often fell asleep to the thought of her, and I still woke up thinking about her. My chest began to feel less heavy as time passed. And it almost began to feel like she wasn't real any more because she was no longer in the same country or even on the same continent.

She was gone, and she was never coming back to me.

The only time she had ever felt real was when I was sleeping with other girls. I went on some kind of sex rampage when I moved to Paris, finding any girl possible to occupy my mind and body with but clearly it wasn't working. As I fucked them, I sometimes imagined that they were her, and that it was her that was in my arms again, it was her that was trembling and moaning beneath me. But it wasn't her, it was never her.

Until now.

I've never really believed in fate, but I'm finally starting to believe that it's a funny thing. I will never forget the feeling I had felt when Pierre had shown me her picture. Out of all the three billion women in the world, he'd set me up with my ex, if I could even call her that.

And it felt like my time had come, for redemption, for revenge and for some answers. Because now, after all this time, she's real again. She's in Paris and she's here. It was time.

But now, after last night, I'm beginning to question everything, because every part of my life for the last three years has been a total lie.

[Y/N] had never betrayed me and I don't know how to feel about it all.

My running thoughts are interrupted by my phone pinging on the beside table. I take a moment to stretch out before rolling over to see the message that's on my phone.

"So did you fuck or not?'

I can't help but laugh at Pierre's message.

"Morning to you too"

"Morning, did you fuck or not?'

'I don't kiss and tell, Pierre".

'Liar! So you fucked then. Congratulations'

Before I can even respond, Pierre texts again.

'Jokes aside, what do you think? Do you want to see her again?'

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #f1 x you #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic

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invvuu · 1 year ago

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LIPS TO EYES AND VICE VERSA — SIM JAEYUN

SUMMARY : sim jake sucks at being your tutor but he makes up for it by being your boyfriend. PAIRING : boyfriend!jake x gn!reader GENRE : established relationship, fluff / 1.6k words WARNINGS : jake is flirty, reader loses their mind because of jake ( there is a theme here if you couldn’t tell ) not proofread

﹙ 📑 ﹚ AUTHOR’S NOTE — why is writing author notes harder than the actual fics themselves,,, but anyways i guess i can just mention that i started writing this last night and then finished it while i was in online class as some sort of tmi (no cus why did i edit this draft five times already just to change the author’s note)

“MY EYES ARE UP HERE,” you say blankly — or rather, in an attempt to appear blankly as you look at Jake, your boyfriend and current tutor for the time being.

He had his chin sitting on top of his palm, fingers resting and occasionally tapping against the skin of his cheek. Jake had a couple rings adorning his fingers, all in silver except for the matching ring he bought for the both of you as a gift to ensure his commitment.

His hair was slicked back partly, slightly giving way for you to see his forehead. It also gave you a much clearer view of his eyes, hiding behind the clear lenses of the glasses he usually wears when reading or studying.

His eyes were a common sight considering the fact that he was your boyfriend and you see him almost everyday, however the only reason why you were bothered by them was because they didn’t focus on your eyes, but rather on your lips as you talked.

This was one of his flirty antics at work, the kind of antics you’ve gotten used to a long time ago but can’t help but still be affected by it.

“I know,” Jake responds back, attitude completely the same as it was in the beginning of your rant. Shortly after you notice the corners of his lips curving upwards into smirk, appearing to showcase that he knew exactly what he was doing.

And you were not surprised.

A sigh escapes your lips, “Jake, you’re supposed to be helping me with the lesson.” You spew out while raising an eyebrow at him, crossing both arms together in a direct manner. “Are you going to help me study or are you just going to keep messing around?”

He chuckles amusingly, grin not faltering.

“Messing around? I’m just admiring you, babe. You do know that you’re beautiful, right?”

Jake’s gaze starts to slowly trail from your lips towards your eyes, seeing the expression displayed on your facial features. “Besides, you were going off topic by ranting about Professor Kim and the Math exam.” He tilts his head, still appearing to be flirting with you.

“Well — yeah, and you’re supposed to be helping me pass the exam right now because I don’t want to fail,” you insist, attempting to get Jake back on track in acting as your tutor.

You then see him switch his focus onto the semi messy written notes, opened and sprawled across the table in front of you. “Huh,” he lets out, “You seem alright doing it by yourself though.”

Crap, he was getting to you. The way he spoke to you in a soft yet attractive tone rendered you flustered, and the way he looked like currently was definitely not helping your mental state at all.

With further inspection of his overall appearance, you can see he had his sleeves rolled up until it reached right below his elbow. This simple insight made you admire how evident his veins were on his hand, clearly seen due to his dress shirt’s sleeves not covering them.

He was, without a doubt, making you short circuit. And you absolutely hated that he was doing nothing but only the bare minimum.

“I still need your help either way.” Your tongue moves on its own immediately, mind trying to keep your thoughts at bay about him. You lay your hand on top of the written notes, sliding them towards Jake so he could read them properly.

“Oh, I was supposed to be your tutor or something?” He asks nonchalantly, brows raising up as he fixes his posture on his seat.

In response you roll your eyes and scoff, expression becoming a bit more irritated than it was in the beginning.

“So you just agreed to do this without even listening to me properly when I asked you earlier?” You inquire back, voice surprisingly sounding harsher as you continue looking at him.

Another set of chuckles blew out of Jake’s mouth. “No need to be so angry,” He then leans forward again, tilting his head another time, “I really am sorry though, but I was only doing my job as your boyfriend.”

His words sent shivers down your spine one after the other. It was annoying really, how much his voice had this much of an impact on you. His sultry and deep tone that he always used when speaking to you added another factor of why you were attracted to him in the first place.

From how he apologized, you could easily surmise that he wasn’t truly sorry. But the part where he mentioned that he was just being your boyfriend immediately gave you all of the reasons to forgive him.

You sigh, giving the attempt in ignoring your heart from fluttering another chance. Sim Jaeyun, Sim Jake, Jaeyun, Jake, Jakey — or whatever name he goes by, he truly knew his way to get to you no matter the occasion or if he had changed his persona.

At this point you were already losing your calm demeanor the more you interacted with Jake. Honestly, if it was him who drew the other half of your heart, you’d keep it against your chest without a single question.

He made you want to do impulsive actions, he made you want to embarrass yourself, and he made you want to become a fool. These thoughts were things that you wouldn’t dare to say out loud, mainly because you knew how stupid you would look like in doing so. You couldn’t help but wonder pitifully in your mind.

What was this man doing to you? You’re both dating now, so why does it feel like you were back to hopelessly crushing on him like before?

After all of these questions, you were sure that your mind was going to go haywire if he ever decided to graze his hand against yours.

“Babe,” Jake calls out, catching your attention as he waves a hand in front of your face, “Am I really that much of an eye candy to you?” He asks teasingly, eyes still looking into yours as he watches you flinch slightly at the sudden movement.

You then feel a tap on the tip of your nose, seeing a soft smile adorning your boyfriend’s features, “You’re making it harder for me to help you study if you keep acting this cute.”

As your heartbeat intensifies from his words, you quickly realize what had happened: you were staring at Jake and you weren’t aware of it.

In this point of the current situation, there was no mistake that you were an actual fool in disguise as a human. “Oh — uh, what were you saying?” You ask in a rather flustered manner as you place a hand at the nape of your neck, rubbing it gently the moment it touches it.

Jake grabs the pen from the table’s surface into his hand and clicks it a few times before answering, “I was admiring the view and it seems like you enjoyed yours too.” He cheekily prompts while giving out a small wink towards your direction.

Embarrassment quickly shoots through your mind at full speed, making you receive the desire to hide yourself from him further. “I was looking behind you,” you mutter, trying to create a valid excuse as your fingers begin fiddling with the edges of the papers sprawled across the table.

“You were looking at books about Shakespearean plays?” He stifles, turning his body to glance at the bookshelf to confirm his question. “Last time you told me that Shakespeare sucked, didn’t know you had a change of heart,” Jake shrugs sarcastically, the corners of his lips tugging themselves into a small smirk.

You frown slightly, letting go of the papers and allowing your hand to rest on the table. “I didn’t say he sucked, I said that reading and analyzing his works sucked,” you explain exasperatedly.

Jake can’t help but supply laughter at your words — the way you quickly tried to cover up what you were actually doing made him find you cuter than usual. With the intent of making the situation seem more entertaining, he points the pen at your face, “Then what about the books made you stop talking?”

“I just remembered about my assignment for History.”

“Really? History?”

You nod eagerly — a bit too eagerly for the matter. You tried your best to remedy the situation at hand but the seeping thought of Jake already knowing the truth was pretty much turning into reality.

“Yeah, I have to — um, read a chapter from Midsummer’s Night Dream and analyze it.”

“But I thought you were supposed to be reading Macbeth?”

The amount of counter statements your boyfriend kept saying were only making you more embarrassed. Embarrassed because at this point, you were sure that he knew exactly what you were doing a few moments ago.

“Just tell me the truth,” Jake prompts, “You were looking at me, it was very obvious.”

This was beyond what you were expecting for this tutoring session — actually, was this even a tutoring session in the first place? It was more like a stupid moment of you going feral over a man that you have been dating for almost a year now.

Sim Jaeyun was definitely a bad choice to have as your tutor.

“I have a challenge for you.” He puts his hands together on the table, as well as leaning back away from you to straighten his posture, “I’ll kiss you every time I catch you gawking at me.”

Hearing his idea makes you click your tongue subconsciously, because you knew that it would’ve make your life so much easier if this entire session didn’t happen, nor if you asked Jake to be your tutor in the first place.

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theemporium · 5 months ago

Note

hello!!! can I pls request a mai tai with my boy barzy (mat tai haha) and “One date, that’s all I’m asking for. One night to let me show you how good we could be together.”

maybe a lil enemies to lovers or reader not realizing that he’s been seriously flirting or whatever you think fits best !!! love ya

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

57. “One day, that’s all I’m asking for. One night to show you how good we could be together.”

“Sleep well?”

You didn’t bother to hide your irritance as the boy sauntered into your office, not bothering to knock or even pop his head in to make sure you were busy (which you were). He simply threw the door open and walked in, settling on one of the seats across from you as he leaned back to get himself comfortable.

“Fine,” you bit out, your eyes focused on your screen instead of the way Mat was shamelessly manspreading, the fabric of his shorts clinging onto the muscles of his thighs.

“Have any nice dreams about me?” He continued, the smirk evident in his voice even if you hadn’t turned your head to look at him. “Feel free to tell me all about them. Every single detail. Spare no expense.”

You let out a deep sigh, abandoning the email you had been drafting up to send to the marketing department as you looked at the boy. His hair was still wet from the shower he had after practice, his hoodie completely contradicting his shorts and the same smirk on his lips that you always found on his face.

“Is there something I can help you with, Barzal?” You asked in a bored tone.

“Actually,” he grinned as he knocked his knuckles against your desk. “Yes, you can. I need to know if you’re free this Saturday.”

“Why? You gonna interrupt my day off the way you’re interrupting my working day now?” You deadpanned.

Mat laughed. “No, I was going to ask you if you wanted to go on a date on Saturday.”

You blinked, waiting for him to say the actual reason he was here to bother you.

But Mat didn’t say anything else, just looking at you with his brows furrowed and an expectant look on his face.

“Wait, you’re serious?” You questioned, your annoyance quickly sizzling away until utter confusion was left in its place. “What game are you playing?”

“Why would I be playing a game?” Mat retorted, now seemingly just as confused as you were.

“Well, why else would you ask me on a date?” You demanded, straightening up a little in your seat.

“Because I want to go out with you?” He responded, his lips turned downwards into a frown. “You know, this whole jokey rivals thing is fun and all but we’ve danced around it long enough.”

You blinked. “It was a joke to you?”

“You thought I was being serious?” He retorted, his frown deepening. “I—no, that’s our thing, right? We pretend to hate each other because it’s kinda hot to bully each other. Right?”

You felt like the air had been knocked out of your lungs. “No?!”

“Oh my god,” Mat murmured, the realisation hitting him that you had assumed he was genuinely being a dick to you for the last few months. “I didn’t…I was just…fuck.”

You couldn’t find any words to say yourself.

“Okay, no, we are resetting this because we clearly both had the wrong idea,” Mat cleared his throat, standing up as he rounded the desk and kneeled beside you. “Go out with me.”

Your eyes widened. “Mat—”

“One day, that’s all I’m asking for. One night to show you how good we could be together,” he continued, something pleading and determined in his voice.

“I–” You paused, finding yourself nodding. “Okay. Saturday.”

“Saturday,” he repeated with a grin. “You won’t regret it, baby. Just wait.”

#cece's cocktail celebration #mat barzal #nhl #new york islanders #mat barzal x reader #mat barzal x you #mat barzal x y/n #mat barzal fic #mat barzal oneshot #nhl x reader #nhl x you #nhl x y/n #nhl fic #nhl one shot

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ssaaaronmontgomery · 1 year ago

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give us some dbf!hotch i’m begging 😫😫

A Little Help

Warnings: Smut, dbf!hotch, oral (fem receiving), slight sir kink, pet names, vaginal fingering, gagging, masturbation (male and female), Hotch sends you a nude photo 🤭, age gap (both are consenting adults), not proofread, I think that's all!

Word count: 1.2k

Pairing: dbf!hotch x fem!reader

A/n: I've got some dbf!hotch in my drafts that I have yet to finish but maybe I can do a little something real quick 🤭.

Forever tags: @greg-montgomery @boredelle @hotchsdoormat @ssahotchnerr @criminalskies @beardedhotchh @hotchnerbau @ssamorganhotchner @mrs-ssa-hotch @canuck-eh @luvehotch @callm3c0nfus3d @ivyflowers13 @randomuserrs

Hotch: @14buddy22 @pastanoodles11 @htchnr

Let me know if you want to be added to my tags 🫶

This post is nsfw minors DNI****

You are in your bedroom when the party starts and you're having some trouble finishing yourself off so you can hurry up and get downstairs. Aaron had been on your mind and it was creating a problem between your legs that you couldn't ignore no matter how hard you tried, but once you got your hand between your thighs it seemed like you just couldn't quite get there. Not without help anyway.

You could hear the noise downstairs as the party your parents were throwing started to get a little louder and you could tell there were plenty of people there to distract your parents from your absence.

You continue to rub your clit as you try to bring yourself over the edge but it seems like every single time you might be getting closer, your body doesn't let you get there and it's more than frustrating for you. A few more minutes of this continue and you sigh at the frustration. It's right then that your bedroom door opens and you jump in surprise and move to cover yourself but you stop when you see Aaron walk through the door with a smirk on his face as he closes it behind him.

"Aaron!" You whisper shout at him and he chuckles a little as he sees what you've been up to. "So this is what's keeping you from the party? I'll have to come up with a different excuse for your parents. They asked about you but I think they're distracted by the new guests that keep talking their ears off." He stands there with that smirk and his arms crossed over his chest as he looks you over and you just lay there frozen as you look back at him. Your hand is still between your thighs but it has stopped its movements.

"You sounded frustrated before I came in, princess. Do you need some help?" His voice sends more arousal straight to your core and you lick your lips before nodding. He smiles and climbs on the bed and you instinctively spread your legs for him. Aaron situates himself between your thighs now and swats your hand away from yourself. He kisses and nibbles on the insides of your thighs, licking them and sucking on them.

Finally he gets his face right where you need it and he licks up some of your slick from your folds which immediately pulls a groan from him, thankfully it's muffled by your dripping cunt. The vibrations feel like heaven and you let your head fall back against your pillow as your hands tangle in his hair to keep him in place.

Soon enough Aaron is lapping at you. It's been a few weeks since he's tasted you and you've both missed it. He has felt starved from you and it is clear to you as he eats you out like he's desperate for it. His tongue flicks your clit and you moan at the sensation but a quick slap to your thigh quiets you down.

"Keep it down, princess. I love your sounds but right now we have to be quiet, okay? Can you do that for me, baby?" Aaron plants a soft chaste kiss on your aching bud and you whimper at him but nod. "Yes, sir." Another kiss. "Good girl." He moves his tongue to your hole and starts thrusting it in and out of you and he moans into your cunt as he gets a better taste of what he's been missing the last few weeks.

You have to cover your mouth with your hand when Aaron brings his hand up and starts rubbing your clit with his thumb as he continues to lap at your pussy. He quickly brings you your first and much needed orgasm of the night which causes another moan to slip from your lips but he lets it go for now so he can ride you through your high.

As soon as you finish, Aaron reaches for your lace underwear and grabs your mouth. He stuffs the fabric in and you look at him with wide eyes.

"You can't keep yourself quiet so we had to fix that." He quickly moves back down and wastes no more time before pushing two of his thick digits into your throbbing core. He brings his mouth back to your clit and starts licking and sucking and flicking it in a way that has you closing in on your second orgasm faster than you would have thought possible after how long it was taking you to just get your first one earlier by yourself.

Aaron pulls his mouth away briefly to speak. "Come on, angel. Be a good girl and soak my fingers. I know you can do it." As soon as he gets his mouth back on your sensitive bundle of nerves, your second orgasm crashes through you and you are both thankful for the underwear that is muffling your moans.

As soon as you come down from your second high, Aaron ceases his movements and pulls the underwear from your mouth. "I would love to stay and cuddle you but need to get dressed and get downstairs before someone else comes up to find you. And I need to go take care of this." Aaron gestures to his throbbing cock that is currently pressed against your hip.

You nod and he helps you up before handing the underwear back to you. You don't take it though. Instead, you push his hand back towards him. "Use it to get off. I have plenty of others." You smile at him and he just grins at you. When he kisses your lips you can taste yourself on them and it nearly makes you say 'fuck it' and decide to stay but you know you can't take any longer to join the party. So you reluctantly pull away and dress yourself as you move with wobbly legs.

"I'll see you downstairs then?" You ask him and he gets a little shy as he blushes and nods. "Yeah, in a few minutes. Tell them I had to use the toilet if they ask where I am." You nod your head and kiss him again, palming his member through the fabric as you do and he moans against your lips but you pull away and he sighs. "Okay, go before I change my mind and keep you up here with me. We can have more fun later but right now you really need to make an appearance at the party." You kiss him one last time before walking over to the door.

"Have fun, Aaron. Send me a photo. I want to see your cock wrapped up in my underwear as you get off with them." You wink at him and grin more which only makes him blush even more. He nods and you finally leave the room to join the party which you can't even remember the purpose of. Sure enough, a few minutes later you hear your phone chime and you sneak a glance at it to see a picture from Aaron. His large hand and your soaked underwear wrapped around his dick as he strokes himself in your room. It nearly makes you moan but you manage to suppress it and focus on the party once again.

You know you'll both be having some more fun later. You'll coincidentally have plans and have to leave shortly after Aaron does. And then you'll end up in his bed as he pounds into you and your moans will fill his ears as his fill yours.

#anon🩶#aaron hotchner #hotch #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotchner x female!reader #aaron hotchner x you #hotch x reader #hotch x fem!reader #hotch x female!reader #hotch x you #aaron hotchner smut #hotch smut #dbf!hotch #dbf!aaron hotchner #mon answers🩷#hotch🌜

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bangchansgirlsblog · 1 year ago

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Ive been imagining this and ik its weird BUT ot8 skz being perv and so obsessed to fem 9th member.. Like they get super jealous and the fem readed being a people pleaser like she cant say no to her friends and cant stand seeing them sad so when the members started to became sexually touchy w her they used that against her and be like "dont u want to see us happy? We've been tired and we just want to relieve some stress.. I thought u can help us.. I guess not" and they pretend to be sad abt it and the reader just felt guilty for not helping her friends so she lets them touch her which led to smut KDNDJFKDJ its weird but idk i die for these kinds of fics

Hands on me?

Warning: Angst, sexual activity, manipulation?

Pairing: polyOT8 x reader.

Summary: Don’t you wanna see us happy baby? They said as they slowly peeled her clothes off.

AUTHORS NOTE: this has been in my requests for a while and I write this when I first started off SO it’s not good at all BUT I’m going to write another one using this same request cause I have another idea AND this was in my drafts for a while so I’m dropping it to clear it.

I hope whoever requested this, enjoys it 🥰

"Baby?!" She heard someone call for her from the living room.

"I'm in here!" She replied. Her hair was up in a pony tail and she was currently wearing shorts and a croptop with no bra on making her look yummy.

She heard a bunch of voices start piling up in the living room meaning that the boys were back home.

A small smile creeped up on her face as she continued to wash up the dishes she had used to cook dinner. She made a big dinner because at the end of the day she was feeding 8 of her boyfriends who were also MEN.

"Hey love," Han walked into the kitchen. His hair was in a hat and he had his normal hoodie and cargo pants on. "Are you feelings better?" He asked while taking a few steps towards her until he towering her. His breathing was heavy probably from the flight of stairs.

"Mmm, yeah. Just been a long day that's all." She sighed and looked up at him. He had a pout on his face making her coo at how adorable the boy was.

"I missed you," he said in between kisses.

"Missed you too momo," he rested his head on her shoulder she continued to finish the dishes.Han was always clingy, not more than Felix but it was more than the other boys, that was for sure.

As she finished up she felt His hands slowly wondering around her body then slowly landing on her ass. oh, makes sense. He was horny.

She did love every interaction with her boys, she really did but today she wasn't in the mood at all. She was tired and she had a horrible headache from work. having sex was not on her to-do list but a nap was.

"Do you want me to take care of you?" He whispered in her ear causing shivers to run down her spine. She was sad because she was going to turn him down and she knew how stressed all the boys were, he just wanted have fun.

"Maybe not right now momo, I'm not in the mood," She told him while finishing the last of the dishes and drying her hands. He pouts and lets out a small whimper.

"Have you eaten yet?" She asked him changing the subject.

"Not yet no," he frowned.

"Okay then sit, let me call the other guys to come eat too," She encourage him, "and don't forget to put your dirty clothes in the laundry basket," She tiptoed and gave him a quick kiss before going to the living room to find only Changbin sat while scrolling through his phone.

He was wearing all black and he had his glasses on. His hair was fluffy and curly meaning today he was in the studio all day.

"Binnie?" She walked and sat by him, "what are you doing?"

"Hey baby," he kisses her temple and then her lips, "I was just lacing up my shoes, what about you? How was your day?"

"I'm tired that's all," she pouted, "and my period is coming soon so I'm breaking out!" she exclaimed and crossed her arms causing him to chuckle.

"I mean atleast you look nice," he dropped his shoe and pulled her close to his body, "you look beautiful, pretty, gorgeous, amazing-"

"Okay, okay I get the point," she roll my eyes playfully.

"Hey? Am I not allowed to praise my beautiful girlfriend?" He playfully frowns.

"You are I geuss," she giggled and he couldnt help but pull her onto his lap.

"Then let me praise you huh?" He kisses her cheek and slowly starts moving down her neck. A small moan leaves her mouth.

"B-Binnie, I'm not in the mood, please," she told him.

"Why not? You're always in the mood," he looks confused.

"Not today, just come have lunch yeah?" she give him a peck on the lips and got off him so he could stand up.

"Fine," he huffs. He makes his way to the dining area as she depart6ed and headed to Felix's room

"Felix?" she called while knocking on his door.

"It's open!"

"Hey sunshine, dinner is ready-"

"Hey! no kisses? No hugs?" He frowned and turned around from his desk.

"Oh-" she giggled when she realized and then walked over to him, "Hey lix," she repeated and gave him a kiss as he automatically pulled her on his lap.

"How's my baby doing?" He asked as his hands wrapped around her waist and he cuddled her body.

"Mm just tired," she sighed.

"Oh my poor baby, should we watch a movie later?" He was craving her. he wanted to spend more time with her because he felt like he had spent so much time with the boys that he was neglecting her.

"Yeah that would be nice but first go get lunch," she forced herself out of his grip but he let out a soft whine due to the lack of touch and well...the bulge that was now very visible through his pants.

"Look what you've done to me," he whined again causing her to laugh at his distraught state.

"Oh oh, you better fix that before you go down,"

"Help me please!" He frowned.

"I'm not in the mood Felix, please."

"Come on pleaseee, it's been a long day. Don't you want to see me happy?"

His eyes were shiny and hungry, it was obvious.

"Fine after dinner," she lied to him so he could get up and he actually believed it.

"Okay okay, I'm running there now!"

He got up from his sit and rushed out the room.

She followed behind him and checked the dining room to see everyone now sitting down including Chan, I.N, Seungmin and leeknow.

She went around to give them quick kisses before returning to her room and changed into just a huge shirt (that was probably for one of the boys) and underwear.

She turned off all her room lights and entered bed now being able to have a peaceful sleep. A nice, nice qui-

She felt the bed dip and hands wrap around her body. Her eyes open quickly and she saw familiar hands. Chan.

"Channie?"

"Hey babe, I wanted to cuddles," he pouted.

"Fine but no disturbing my sleep," she scolded him and turned so it was easier for him to wrap his arms around her waist.

Her eyes slowly closed once again and she finally thought she was to get some sleep until the door swung wide open and closed quickly, two more people walking in and making themselves comfortable in her bed. Han and I.N. At this point she was so used to it that she just let them stay as they both argued on who was sleeping where.

"Guys if you're going to be in here, you have to be quiet and sleep," She told all of them off. Even if she was getting a little frustrated she scooted up a little so they could all enter the bed.

Not even a few minutes later all the boys were now in her room on her bed piling onto one another under her fluffy blankets. She knew exactly what they wanted when she felt one of their hands massaging her leg.

She let out a sigh, "Such horny dogs!" she groaned.

"Common baby, it's been a long day. Don't you care about us?" Hyunjin teased her in a manipulative manner.

"Just a little fun. Come on please," Han rubbed her leg once more back and forth causing shivered to run down her spine.

"You look good too," Felix complimented her while tugging at her bra strap, "really good." They were basically already peeling her clothes off with their cold ass hands.

She let out a sigh and finally gave in, "F-fine I geuss so," her eyes wonder to Chan who gives her an assuring nod.

//please idk how to write a smut but just imagine the nastiest thing ever happens//

When they were done and the boys were satisfied as Y/n sat on the bed. Her heart was racing from all the action but she was in her own space. Spaced out.

The constant thoughts of the boys using her for their sexual desires made her enter a depressive episode. Yes she enjoyed the sex and the attention but so many emotions were running through her tiny body that she couldn't handle it anymore.

She felt used like a sex toy and the tears in her eyes slowly started to build as she started to breath rapidly. The air in the room getting suddenly thick. Seungmin was in the bathroom running her bath for her after care. The sound of the water falling was the only sort of noise she could hear.

She held her knees against her chest as she tried to calm down. Han's hand wrapped around her waist. As he kissed her temple. "you did so good for us, you know that right babygirl?" he praised but she didnt even notice him in the first place. Her eyes were hazy and completely black and when Han noticed, he gave chan a look.

"Hey, are you with us?" Chan asked immediately as he pulled up his sweatpants. "Y/n?"

No response.

She was staring at the wall right in-front of her. She felt unloved. She felt tired. She was in pain.

The boys (some of them were still dressing up) all turned to look at her. Her body was still bare and the bruises on her arms were visible.

"Is she going into a trance?" I.N asked panicked. "Chan do something, please,"

"Hey Y/n? Babygirl? It me. Can you hear me?" He walked over to her and grabbed her tiny hands.

"C-channie?" She chocked as She looked up at him. The tears slowly starting to fall.

"Yes my love, it's me. Can you tell me where you are?"

"I'm alone, I'm all alone," she sobbed. "Why am I like this? Why am I so disgusting?" She cried.

"What do you mean Y/n?" He asked shocked.

"I-I want Binnie, I want Binnie now," she said reaching out for him. Changbin did not hesitate. He was right by her side pulling her onto his lap. The rest of the boys understanding what was going on and quickly taking action.

"I'm here princesses, tell me what's wrong," he had no shirt on and the skin to skin was slowly giving her comfort as his body heat was radiating warmth.

"I-do you love me?" She asked. The panic in her voice was clear. She was soon going to get a panic attack. it was building up.

"Ofcourse I love you babydoll, why would you think otherwise?" He questioned while kissing her forehead.

"i- i dont know, please dont be mad at me," She sobbed in his chest. The view was heartbreaking and the boys knew that if they didnt find a way to cheer her up soon it would end up into a full blown panic attack.

"I'm going to make some brownies for her," Felix said because he knew this was the only way he could comfort her on his part. He quickly leaves the room after hesitating for a bit not wanting to leave her.

"I- are you guys using me? For sex?" She cried harder. Her hands held Changbins chest as She struggled to breathe. Their faces were in absolute shock. was this what they made her think? was this all she thought she was to them?

"Ofcourse not," leeknow knelt down infront of her. He slowly rubbed her thigh. "Jagi, you need to breathe. Can you do that for me?" He asked her. Her body was shaking still. she tried to gasp for air but failed.

"Listen to me beuatiful, you need to breathe like me....see," he took a deep breathe to demonstrate to her but it was no use.

"i- i cant breathe," she gasped and let go of changbin to grab her neck. it felt like it was closing up. Her vision was blurry now and the lack of oxygen was getting to her.

"C-chan?" she gasped as she slowly she started to pass out. Her body giving up on her due to the many emotions.

"come on baby, stay with me," she heard in the distance.

"Guys! call 119,"

***

This is just a fic no one come for me 😔

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