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thekinslayed · 1 year ago

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Edge of Desire

summary | Your efforts in the marital bed stayed fruitless after many moons married to your uncle, and Aemond wants to change that. (based on these requests.)

pairing | aemond targaryen x niece!reader

tags | 18+, MINORS DNI! unprotected sex, oral (f), lovemaking, morning sex, medieval conception practices, awkward pining, enemies to lovers kinda, cockwarming

song rec | Edge of Desire - John Mayer

wordcount | 5.5k

note | something softer with aemond this time around :)

(special chapter -> Show Me Your World)

likes, comments, reblogs are much appreciated!

“Ow! My hair!”

“Stay still, woman.”

Aemond readjusted his weight above you, grumbling as he leaned on his elbows. He huffed out a hot breath of air, which fanned your face while you lay on your back. His length softened within your walls the longer you stayed connected, preventing any seed from leaking out per the maester’s orders.

It had been nearly a whole year since you proclaimed your vows to your uncle under the eyes of the Seven. Your hand had been offered as a gesture of good faith, arguably a desperate attempt between both sides of your family to mend the rift that has been growing for years. It had worked somewhat, but as the moons passed and your relationship with your husband refused to warm, there have been growing concerns on either side of your family. Your animosity towards each other was no secret, with the vile insults Aemond had thrown against you and your brothers regarding your questionable parentage throughout your youth, which ended of course, in the incident. You had no part during that horrific night in Driftmark, but you were not saved from the consequences of that night.��

Barely a moon after you had turned eight and ten, you sailed towards King’s Landing, to your fate. Your only comfort was the sight of your dear dragon flying above you, watching over you like a guardian. After you were draped by your lord husband with the dark, dragon-embroidered cloak, you made an agreement with each other. Aemond shall have his space, and you will have your own. You shall not bother him, and neither will he. However, you are expected to keep up appearances, at court, at the feasts, and even at the dinner table where queen Alicent pestered you both endlessly with any progress on your efforts in the marital bed. With the lingering friction still driving you apart from your husband, it was no surprise your womb still bore no fruit. He would call you to his chambers to perform your duties for one night each week, sometimes twice, for extra measures. Your efforts remained futile, for his seed never took and you remained childless many moons after your wedding. This growing concern has led to an intervention by the maesters, who recommended a myriad of methods that would aid in your conception.

You were to lay together every morning. Not at night, unless you wanted a girl.

The princess must clench her fist while her husband “did nature’s work”.

Your bed must face the east while you coupled, to ensure it is a boy.

The prince must remain inside the princess for an hour after he has finished to guarantee the seed is taken.

The last measure was absolutely dreadful. It was painful enough to have your womanhood assaulted by a man you rarely saw eye-to-eye with, but to stay there for an hour? Gods be good.

Aemond let out another grunt in your ear when his left arm grew sore from carrying his weight, shifting to lean onto the other arm instead. You turned your head to look at the hourglass on the nightstand. There was still a good amount of time left, and you silently prayed that the sand passed through the glass faster so you may escape this awful predicament. Your tailbone was starting to grow numb from the lack of movement, causing you to subtly shift your hips upwards to relieve the pressure from your backside.

“Stop it,” your husband hissed, making you huff in annoyance. Aemond rolled out his shoulder to relieve the soreness from the joint, before shifting his weight to do the same to the other. His long, silver hair enclosed you like a curtain, soft and light like the touch of a feather. You would be tempted to feel it under your fingertips if only it wasn’t tickling your face, adding to your aggravation. You moved his hair away from your face, letting out another huff. “Stop acting like this inconveniences only you, wife, I would’ve been much happier spending my mornings down in the training yard. My arms are getting too fucking tired,” Aemond grumbled.

You could feel his muscles start to tremble from the exertion of holding his weight up, unwilling to touch your skin by even a hair. You bit back a snarky response, starting to feel bad for him.

“Can’t we switch positions? Perhaps I could be on top,” you recommended, to which your husband only responded with a grunt.

“No, the maesters said we must stay this way. Any other way would make the seed fall rather than stay in. I do not want to do this any longer than we have to.”

You snickered at his words, turning your head away to subtly roll your eyes. Despite your irritation, his subtle quivering was making you feel sorry for him. You bit your lip as you thought about what to do.

“Here, why don’t you…” You placed a hand on his back, urging him to lay against you. Aemond had started to refuse, but you insisted, assuring him he wouldn’t crush you under his weight. With a sigh, your husband relaxed above you, finally letting his arms rest. He laid his head right beside yours, and with only a small turn you could smell the remnants of smoke in his starlit hair, coupled with the rosemary oil rubbed into his tresses every night. His lips ghosted over your shoulder; the skin exposed from when your nightgown had shifted askew. His warmth engulfed you like a warm blanket, his weight surprisingly comfortable. It was quite nice actually, despite your reluctance to admit the fact.

“Is this better?” you asked, your tone simmering down into a softer tone. Aemond hummed in response, turning his head to the side. His lips were now positioned right under your ear, and his every breath fanned the side of your face like a warm breeze on a summer’s day.

“Quite. Though this whole ‘laying for an hour’ nonsense is still quite dreadful, in my opinion,” he muttered. His voice buzzed directly into your ear, pulling a strange twinge in your chest when he did so. You trained your gaze on the embroidery on the roof of the canopy, studying the two dragons seemingly entwined against each other. It was almost like you and Aemond, funny enough.

“It is easy for you to say when men often find the act more enjoyable,” you commented almost bitterly. Aemond was silent momentarily upon your words, before seemingly snuggling even closer to you, though you assumed he was only trying to make himself comfortable.

“Is it so horrible?” your lord husband asked, a subtle hint of concern in his words that you barely caught. You turned to look at the hourglass again. Still quite a bit to go.

“Well, it hurts, more than anything.”

Another silence passed. Aemond’s mind ran a league in a minute at your words, reflecting on the pain he unknowingly inflicted upon you on the times you did your duty. As much as he harbored no love for your family, especially your bastard brothers, you were still his wife. His mother had instilled in him since he was a boy that any woman he would take as his wife should always be treated with respect, for she was an image of the Mother. Granted, Alicent was surely not picturing Rhaenyra’s only daughter beside her favored son upon the altar of the Sept when the day came, but the sentiment still extended to you all the same.

Aemond shifted his weight back to his hands as he lifted himself once more, so he may look upon your face. It was then he granted himself to really get a good look at you. He may be half-blind, but Aemond knew you were beautiful, there was no denying it. His good eye studied your features, noting the absence of the crease between your eyebrows whenever you were displeased, which was most of the time you spent by his side.

“I have no wish to hurt you,” he whispered.

“I know, ‘tis alright. I am tougher than I look,” you replied softly, your lips turning into a downward smile. Before you could stop yourself, your hands moved to tuck a stray strand of silver behind his ear on instinct. You looked into the purple of his good eye, the other covered by a patch of leather. “Besides, Daemon always used to say men have it much worse on the battlefield, for there is far less mercy when facing your enemies than your own wife,” you added to which Aemond only scoffed in response, shaking his head. Your chest rumbled with a laugh at his reaction, especially after his lips pursed into his signature feline-like pout.

Of course, Daemon would think that way, Aemond thought. His uncle was hardly the image of chivalry for any married couple across Westeros, and it was rather gauche of him to be bestowing any words of wisdom to his stepdaughter about the matters of matrimony.

All of a sudden, there was an odd feeling in his chest when your eyes seemed brighter than they had even before when you looked at him. He’d seen that light before, when you looked at your brothers, his half-sister, even at Helaena, but never him. You had such beautiful eyes, ones he could swim in their depths forever. Aemond faltered, unsure of what to do with this newfound flutter in his otherwise stone heart. He opted to lower himself to your warmth once more, burying his head into the junction where your neck and shoulder met. The scent of your flesh was naturally sweet, making him subtly press his nose into your skin.

“I am not your enemy,” he said, with a rather unfamiliar softness. He felt your hand come up to rest on his back, resting on the space in between his clothed shoulder blades. A small smile lifted the corners of your lips, one hidden from his view. You turned to look at the hourglass, which had already emptied. You made no move to tell Aemond to get up, but instead, you pressed the side of your face against his own, breathing in the scent of his hair.

“I know, husband.”

Walking through the halls of Maegor’s Holdfast, Aemond thought back to all the depraved remarks Aegon would make him listen to about his experiences in the Streets of Silk— how the whores would touch him, and how he would touch them, making them mewl and sigh in delight. He knew not whether they were doing it only for show, but perhaps in some way his brother might have learned a thing or two in the many years he frequented the stinking streets of Flea Bottom just for a taste of flesh.

Despite better judgment, his feet led him to his brother’s door. His fist had raised to rap against the old wood, but then he faltered. Though seeking Aegon’s insight would surely be far less embarrassing than continuing to follow through with whatever the maesters have him and his wife doing in the marital bed, the endless jests and amusement the elder shall find in the matter would definitely haunt him for a long time. Your husband did not wish to humiliate you any further, not when the matter has already involved too many people. With a hair’s breadth between his fist and Aegon’s door, Aemond sighed, dropping his hand and turning on his heel to walk away.

He and his brother have had their fair share of women who have warmed their beds, Aegon more so than himself, but they have only ever fucked. It was for their pleasure, to quench the fire in their cocks. It wasn’t tender or sweet, or gods forbid… loving. He knew he couldn’t treat his wife the same way he did a whore if he wanted your partnership to prosper; he couldn’t treat you this way.

He thought about asking his mother, though letting her know of your problems in bed, even more than what she already knew, would probably do them more harm than good. Perhaps Cole? No, that wouldn’t be a good option. Matters of the flesh are a touchy subject for Aemond’s mentor and father figure, perhaps even more so when the blood of the woman who shunned him is involved.

It had always been like this for him. A plethora of questions would boggle his young, curious mind, yet there was no one to indulge him. It had hurt him, of course, but he had learned that some things would have to be acquired by his own volition. This is how he had become such a prolific scholar, had come to claim Vhagar, and proven himself a man worthy of praise.

A laughter through the halls snapped him out of his exasperating worries. The glimmery shrill of youth, unmistakenly that of his sister’s babes, beckoned him like a beacon towards the nursery. There he found little Jaehaerys riding his wooden pony, mimicking a horse’s bray as he rocked back and forth. Helaena watched on in amusement, little Maelor clutched in her elbow. And then there was you, tickling his niece’s belly on the floor, a joyous laughter of your own adding to the symphony. You bent to pepper kisses into the crook of Jaehaera’s neck, making the girl squeal and kick her legs in delight.

You were so good with the babes, this Aemond couldn’t deny. You would offer to help Helaena watch over them on most days when she would grow weary and Aegon was away on the council. As much as your husband would try to look the other way, he couldn’t miss the way you looked at them with fondness, how you would press your nose into the youngest’s hair to smell that sweet, milky scent of his skin. Perhaps he would like to see you with a babe of your own. Yours and his, he wondered what they would be like.

“Oh, Aemond, come!” Helaena exclaimed, beckoning him over. It was then he realized he had been standing in the doorway like a fool, and so the prince stepped into the nursery. Jaehaera, after having spotted his approach, jumped to her feet in excitement. Aemond greeted her with a fond smile and a pat on the head, kneeling to her height. You moved your skirts to let your husband settle by your side, your knees slightly pressed against each other.

His eyepatch had been knocked askew when the young princess had gleefully embraced her uncle, and you had quickly righted it in its place. Your touch was light on his scarred cheek, a foreign featherlike caress that sent a slight shiver down his spine.

“Thank you, wife,” Aemond whispered, turning to you. There it was again, that little look on your face. You regarded him with a budding warmth he hadn’t quite known, a smile that rounded out the apples of your cheeks, though he figured it was one you directed to the little girl in his arms. He returned his gaze to Jaehaera, who had handed him a dragon toy to play with, willing himself to pay little mind to your lingering gaze burning the side of his cheek.

You couldn’t quite recall when your affections towards Aemond had started to change, all you knew was your heart didn’t hold the same twinge of displeasure in his presence, nor did you dread having to keep up appearances in court. There were some instances where you even sought him out, had peeked out the Keep’s yard to watch him train some mornings, all without his knowledge of course. Your coupling was still as unpleasant as ever, but you had grown to not mind the feeling of his weight on yours once the hourglass had been turned to start the hour, the pair of you descending into a comfortable silence most times. Going through the motions had gotten easier by the day, a well-practiced dance between the two of you.

You would wake with the sun’s rise, and then make your way to your husband’s chambers. He would be already awake, always, awaiting your arrival. The bed would be quite warm from his heat, thanks to his dragon blood, and it was a pleasant comfort to have. Once the deed was done, you were off to your separate duties for the day. It was routine at this point; therefore, it was quite odd when you were summoned to your husband’s chambers late into the night.

“It is nighttime,” you said when you entered as if it wasn’t quite obvious from the darkness that enveloped his apartments. Your husband was clad in his cotton tunic and breeches, sipping on a glass of wine.

“I know,” Aemond replied, turning to you. He could chuckle at the look of confusion on your face, with your furrowed brows that creased the skin between them, if it weren’t for the odd nerves swarming in his belly.

“Was there something you need?” you asked, accepting the cup of red that was handed to you.

“No, well… perhaps,” he muttered. You gulped your wine, a droplet spilling over the corner of your lips. Before you could act, Aemond’s thumb darted out to wipe away the tear of red that was on its way to run down your chin. You stopped yourself from jerking away, though you couldn’t deny your perplexion. “I just… I figured we could try something.”

“Try what?” you asked again. He was acting odd, with the way he was looking at anywhere but you, a contrast to his usual sharp form. This was starting to grow concerning; gods, he’s not about to kill you, is he?

“Do you trust me?” Aemond asked. He had gotten closer to you, quite close enough that you could feel the warm waft of his breath on your cheeks. His large, calloused palm cupped your jaw, warming up your cheeks. You stared up at him, wide-eyed, nodding your head meekly.

You trusted him, you really did, in an inexplicable, convoluted way. The past would tell you not to, but your time as his wife had shifted your connection into something intimate. Away from the endless troubles within your kin, all the terrible infighting with burning words and stares sharp as knives, you and Aemond found little trouble with each other, especially with the arrangements you agreed upon. After you had said your vows in the great Sept, you spent your first moons as the one-eyed prince’s wife with a guarded vigilance. You blocked the entrance to Maegor’s tunnels with your vanity, had given the first bite of your food to the rats in search of poison, and had even slept with a dagger underneath your pillow in case your uncle came to you in your sleep. There was none of that. Granted, the Hightowers weren’t the warmest, most welcoming bunch, but they treated you well— some of them, at least.

You weren’t sure where you stood with Aemond. You didn’t hate him, not anymore at least, and you would like to believe he wasn’t coming for your head anymore. The pair of you were… fine. You figured this was a comfortable position to be in, and you dared not utter the wish in your heart of hearts, in fear of rejection. The budding light in your chest as he looked at you now, in the dim glow of his chambers, made known what had been growing over the days you spent in his presence. It couldn’t be helped.

And now, as you stood toe to toe with him, your face cupped in his palm, you knew the balance was about to tip over; for better or for worse, however, you didn’t know.

Your breath came out as a shudder as his face descended upon yours, the time moving all too slow in your perception. Your hands tightened into fists in anticipation, your pulse thrumming in your ears so thunderously you could only hope he didn’t feel it. Just as his lips were a mere hair's breadth away from yours, Aemond stopped, sensing the rigid tension in your spine. With a sigh, he leaned his forehead against yours.

“Aemond, w-what has gotten into you?” you whispered, cautious to not break the solemn air in the room. Your hands came up to rest on his biceps, squeezing at them in question. He was silent for a moment, his eye closed in thought. You waited, patiently.

“I want to make you feel good,” your husband finally uttered in a whisper. You sputtered half words in shock. He did not need to do that, you expected little as a woman and were doing your duty in bed just fine. Why would he willingly want to do so? By the gods… why did he want to?

His thumb caressed your cheek ever so softly, pressing on the supple plumpness under the pad of his finger. He had leaned away, not too far, just enough to gauge your reaction.

Your throat felt dry, and you longed for the cup of wine you had set aside. Your mind ran a league in a minute, the proposition he was offering was one many women would kill their spouses for. Truthfully, you didn’t know what making you “feel good” would entail, your lack of knowledge and experience from your sheltered upbringing limiting your mind on the art of the ways of the flesh.

“Will you let me?” he asked.

You could say no and he would dismiss you, and the night would be over. You would pore on what could’ve been if you had said yes, and you would never know what would have transpired. You could say yes, and this whole thing would be a disaster, an embarrassment if it ended in proving how incompatible you truly were. Or… you would enjoy it, you both would.

You nodded your head again, still untrusting of your own words. Aemond walked you backward to the bed, urging you to lay back once the back of your knees hit the frame.

As his deft hands lifted your nightgown to your hips, you fisted the sheets tight in your hands in angst. You watched him as he watched you, or your womanhood, rather. Your husband’s tongue ran over his bottom lip, his good eye twinkling under the subtle warmth of the dimness in his chambers.

You felt open… exposed. The urge to cross your legs shut threatened to overwhelm you, but his hands caressing the meat of your thighs prevented you from doing so. He descended upon you, planting a trail of kisses down the inside of your thigh. Gooseflesh rose all over your skin, and you gasped when he came close to your flower, making you grip his shoulder to stop him.

“Aemond…” you breathed out.

“Let me do this for you,” he whispered, taking your wrist to direct his kisses there. “Have faith in me.”

You retracted your hand from his firm shoulder, leaning your weight on your elbow to watch him. His breath was hot against your slit, making you involuntarily clench. He started with light kisses on your mound, then little licks against your slit. His good eye flickered to gauge your reaction, where you had started to bite your lip. Two fingers split your folds open, baring all of you to his hungry gaze. His tongue delved deeper into your slit, penetrating you.

“Oh,” you exhaled, tilting your head back. With a surge of confidence, your husband began to devour you in earnest, licking and sucking. Sweet sounds, ones unheard of before, had started to spill from your lips, and what a delightful song it was.

A finger soon replaced his tongue, entering your gummy walls as though it were his cock. It thrust in and out of you the same way, and when he bent to feel up a rough patch within your walls, your toes clenched as a jolt ran up your spine.

“Good?” Aemond asked, to which you could only respond with a nod and a whine.

His lips found your pearl, and then another finger had joined the other. The prince soon found a rhythm, one that had you writhing and moaning unabashedly. What an odd sensation it was, yet utterly delicious as it was depraved.

The pressure in your stomach built in a steady rise. It sparked your muscles to twitch in Aemond’s hold, growing spasmodic as you were hurled closer to your precipice. You came with a whine, your head thrown back into the feather mattress as your husband guided you to your end.

“Where did you learn how to do that?” you asked, breathless. Black spots danced around your vision of him, swarming around the otherworldly sight of his flushed, glimmering lips and the loose silver strands that framed his face. It quirked into a small smirk as he regarded you, his arms caging you in between his hold. His hair draped around you like a curtain, the wispy ends tickling your nipples through the cotton of your dress.

“I am quite diligent in seeking the knowledge I might find useful, dear wife, and it seems they have proven to be so,” Aemond responded. You dared not ask what he meant, unwilling to learn who he had sucked and licked the way he did you to be so proficient in the act, how he had learned to poke all the right places to earn such lewd sounds from you. You merely hummed, tracing the line of his jaw in a trance.

His deft fingers had grabbed a hold of the straps of your nightgown, pulling them down to bare you fully. You let him, willingly so, encouraged by the look in his good eye that promised you more. His good eye was glued onto your breasts immediately before his warm, calloused hands took them into his hold. They fit perfectly in his palms, much to both of your delight. You bit your lip as he squeezed them, massaging the supple flesh and rubbing on your sensitive bud. Aemond could do this for hours, and if it weren’t for the throbbing in between his thighs, he would’ve done so.

His cotton tunic soon followed, then his breeches, and as he stood before you, cock stood stiff in attention, you get a good look at him. He was utterly handsome like this, bare and unguarded. You beckoned him closer, pulling on the strip that held half of his hair up. Soft fingertips trailed his jaw, his scar, before circling the leather patch that masked his left eye.

“Can I?” you whispered, looking into his good eye as he studied you. Aemond paused for a moment, almost faltering. The warmth of your thighs caged onto the sides of his waist was a welcome comfort, luring him closer to wanting to nestle in your ever-loving heat.

“Tis not a good sight to gaze upon,” he mumbled. You had cupped his jaw when he started to look away, keeping him close with a small smile.

“You are my husband. I wish to have you, all of you, as you will have me.”

A promise. An agreement.

A solemn echo of your vows upon the altar.

I am his and he is mine from this day, until the end of my days.

He had pulled the patch off from the clasp on the back of his head. The sparkle of the sapphire had stunned you in awe, and as you cupped his jaw, the look of wonder on your face and the lift in your lips couldn’t be helped.

“It is beautiful, husband,” you said, beaming up at him. “You are beautiful.”

He had huffed in amusement, planting a kiss on your cheek before mumbling into your skin, “I should be telling you that.”

His stiff length was hot and heavy as it sat against your hip, a reminder of the fire that still coursed through your veins. Aemond pulled away, the look in his eye taking a warmer, softer tinge as did yours. The smile on your lips had melted away to something sincere, hopeful. With a nod, you watched him take hold of his shaft, lining it upon your entrance. His breach was much smoother this time, no stabbing pain that made you scrunch your face, all thanks to his efforts in preparing you. It was rather delightful, a delicious stretch that made you bite your lip as he grunted above you. He would have asked you about the pain, but the deep kiss you had pulled him in to let him know there was little of it.

Aemond’s hips took on a steady pace, rocking into you gently and slowly. It was nothing lewd or animalistic, but rather sensual, intimate. You had never felt closer to him the way you did now, your connection transcending that of something physical. Your husband’s face was buried into the crook of your neck, his grunts and moans traveling straight into your auricle. You fared no better, your mewls echoing into the quiet of the room. Aemond had taken hold of your fisted hand, the godsdamned instructions from the maester taking on memory in your muscles, and he had pried them open. His larger, rougher fingers intertwined with yours, holding onto you for dear life as he took you deeper, and deeper, poking a spot within your womb that made you shiver in delight.

“Aemond,” you breathed out. His aquiline nose pressed into the side of your face, breathing into the sweet scent of your dampening flesh.

“Say it again… say my name again.” His voice was growing raspier by the second, but his tone was ever so soft with you, only you. His lips closed around one of your nipples, sucking on the stiff bud in a way that made you moan.

“Aemond, oh, Aemond! My lord husband,” you whined, holding onto the planes of his back as his pace hastened. His pubic bone rubbed on your pearl, sending shoots of fiery pleasure up your spine. Your grip on him was tight, almost numbing, but he relished in it. He wanted to feel you everywhere, kiss on every ounce of flesh he could, you were his after all.

“My wife, my dearest darling. Will you come for me again? Spill around my cock, hm?” You nodded fervently at his dirty whisper, wanting nothing else to do exactly as he asked. His forehead was prickled with salty sweat when he had pressed it against yours, his lips barely an inch away from yours. The silver-haired prince’s breath mingled with yours, and you had chased him when his tongue darted to lick a swipe across your bottom lip. Your release washed over you the moment he kissed you again, your moans swallowed by his hungry mouth. His length drove into you still, chasing his own release, and your spasming walls massaged him to guide him to his end. Aemond pulled away to look at where you were connected, committing the sight of his cock, painted with a white ring around its base, disappearing into your sweet cunny. His pace grew rhythmless as his hips began to sputter. He was close, evident from the way his eyebrows scrunched together. With a hand on your breast, the other on your jaw, your husband came with an open-mouthed groan, spilling his hot seed into your womb.

Aemond had moved to collapse by your side, but you had pulled him close to your chest, letting him lay on you with his softening length still nestled in your walls.

“Stay.”

You lay there together in silence, breathless, boneless. His hand rubbed on your waist, as did yours on his muscled back, comfortable in the silence you were in.

“I am sorry,” your husband had whispered, before shifting to lean on his elbow to look at you. “For…”

He need not say everything, or anything at all. You knew what he meant. That was all too long ago, almost a lifetime that scarcely felt yours. It was different now between you and him. The world could descend into flames and tear itself inside out, but you and Aemond would not lose each other.

You nodded, tucking a loose strand of silver behind his ear. “I am sorry too, deeply so.”

Slumber had found you while you were wrapped in your husband’s embrace, the heat emanating from his bare body pressed against yours a comforting blanket. In the morn, he had taken you again, slipping into your welcoming walls as you both stayed laid on your side. Aemond had left Cole a waiting fool in the courtyard while he missed his training, a curious deviation from his otherwise strict routine.

You were both learning how addicting this could be, though it seemed neither of you wanted to complain. You could hardly separate from your husband’s hold to dress to break your fast, and the pleasant glow on both your faces at the dining table with the rest of the family was a dead giveaway of the progression in your relationship. With the frequency of how much you latched onto each other every moment you found yourselves alone, it came as no surprise that by the end of the moon, the realm celebrated the growing babe in your womb.

A life forged by your own hand. Yours and his.

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zeke-fanfucs · 3 months ago

Note

aaaawwwwwaaaaaa hhhaaaaiiii…. i give.. innocent.. and kind request to you.. the request is literally anyoen bvs or bastard warrior related but like… as spicy as you could possibly make it without being uncomfy.. there aint enough out there.. now idk if were talking likeee faint taco bell sriracha spicy or goddamn california reaper ghost pepper spicy, but i hope im getting the point across okay im sorry i love ur writing so muxh dont die i beg

Oh hell yes, we’re going full ghost pepper spicy—right to the edge without crossing into the explicit zone (not confident enough to think my writing is to that level, yet). You wanted Hipswitch x Kamor, sensual, steamy, dripping with tension and pet names? Buckle up, because it’s about to get hot 🥵

⸻

Title: “You Gonna Be Good for Me, Pretty Boy?”

The door hadn’t even shut before Hipswitch had Kamor pinned up against it.

Kamor’s back hit the wood with a thud, breath caught halfway between a gasp and a sigh, and Hipswitch was already leaning in, voice thick with heat and hunger.

“Look at you,” he murmured, lips brushing the shell of Kamor’s ear. “Ain’t even touched you yet and you’re already trembling.”

Kamor’s fingers gripped Hipswitch’s jacket, eyes dark, lashes fluttering. He couldn’t speak—not without his voice—but his body did plenty of talking. The way his breath stuttered. The way his eyes darted down to Hipswitch’s mouth, then back up again. The way his legs shifted ever so slightly like he was trying not to melt on the spot.

“Yeah,” Hipswitch breathed, grinning like a devil. “You want this, don’tcha, baby?”

Kamor nodded once—sharp, needy.

“Say it again,” Hipswitch teased, trailing a hand down Kamor’s chest, slow and firm. “With that pretty face’a yours.”

Kamor glared halfheartedly, flushed to the tips of his ears, and used both hands to sign slowly: I want you. Please.

“Damn, sugar,” Hipswitch groaned. “You beg so pretty. My good boy.”

That earned him a soft, shuddering breath from Kamor—almost a whimper. He didn’t flinch when Hipswitch leaned in, just tilted his head back, baring his throat like he trusted him—like he needed him.

Hipswitch kissed him hard.

No hesitation. Just lips colliding in a mess of heat and teeth, his hand sliding into Kamor’s hair to keep him there, like he might drift away otherwise. Kamor kissed back with just as much need, gasping softly into his mouth when Hipswitch nipped at his lower lip.

“You taste sweet,” Hipswitch muttered against his lips. “Goddamn candy.”

He slid a hand under Kamor’s shirt, dragging his fingers along warm skin, pulling a sharp inhale from the mute man. Kamor shivered, gripping his shoulders like he didn’t trust his own legs.

“You gonna let me take care of you?” Hipswitch whispered, forehead pressed to Kamor’s. “Gonna let me lay you down real gentle, make you feel good?”

Kamor nodded again—slow this time, deliberate. Eyes wide, lips parted.

Hipswitch grinned, swept him up with one arm like he weighed nothing, and Kamor buried his flushed face in the crook of his neck as he was carried down the hall.

“I got you, pretty boy,” Hipswitch said lowly. “Gonna make you forget your own name.”

And when he laid Kamor down, he did it like he was something sacred.

⸻

“Stay With Me, Pretty Boy” – Part Two

The room was quiet now.

No more teasing words, no more rushed touches—just the sound of breathing. Slow. Steady. Heavy like a heartbeat under soft sheets.

Kamor lay on his back, dazed and flushed, skin dewy with heat. His chest rose and fell with each breath as Hipswitch nestled beside him, half-draped over him like he refused to let even air separate them. One arm was tucked possessively around Kamor’s waist, the other tangled under the pillow they now shared.

Kamor’s thigh was hooked over Hipswitch’s hip lazily, and their legs had become one long knot under the sheets—skin brushing skin with every faint movement. Hipswitch’s fingers traced idle circles along Kamor’s lower back, his touch featherlight now. Worshipful. Like he couldn’t get enough of the way Kamor felt beneath his hand.

“You doin’ alright, sweetheart?” Hipswitch asked, voice low, rough with affection.

Kamor didn’t sign. He just nodded slowly, blinking at him through heavy lashes, a soft smile tugging at his lips.

That smile damn near ruined Hipswitch.

“God,” he whispered, brushing Kamor’s hair back from his damp forehead. “You’re so damn beautiful like this.”

Kamor’s nose crinkled a little—shy. He ducked his head into Hipswitch’s chest, burying his face right where metal met warmth, like he was trying to hide.

Hipswitch chuckled and wrapped him up tighter.

“Nuh-uh. Don’t hide from me, pretty boy. You’re mine now. I wanna see you.”

Kamor shifted, pressing a lazy kiss to Hipswitch’s shoulder—chaste, but sleepy and fond. His hand slid across Hipswitch’s stomach, slow and grounding, and stayed there like he wanted to feel every breath

For a while, neither of them spoke. There was no need to.

They lay there, legs still tangled, Kamor’s cheek against his chest, Hipswitch’s thumb tracing soft circles against his ribs. Every now and then, Hipswitch would lean in and press a kiss to Kamor’s hair, or to the corner of his jaw, or the soft curve of his temple.

Not rushed. Not hungry.

Just… full of love.

“You know,” Hipswitch mumbled eventually, sleep tugging at his voice, “I could get used to this. You in my arms. Quiet little thing wrapped around me like you belong there.”

Kamor signed one-handed, lazily and a little clumsy: I do.

Hipswitch stared for a second, heart stuttering.

Then he pulled Kamor closer until there was no space left at all, until they were just a tangle of limbs and breath and soft sighs in the dark.

“Damn right you do,” he whispered against Kamor’s hair. “My good boy.”

And in the quiet hush of their shared bed, Kamor fell asleep to the rhythm of Hipswitch’s steady heart.

#goodboyaudios #gba bvz #bastard vs zombies #fiction #goodboyaudios karmor #good boy audios #goodboyaudios hipswitch #writing ✍️

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goldenmagnolias · 2 years ago

Text

Mist.

WRITERS

If you see this, spoil your WIP's biggest plot twist using ONLY ONE WORD

Here's mine!

Dying

#wip: untitled #writing things #writing ✍️

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myladysapphire · 1 year ago

Text

Solace

As the daughter of Alicent Hightower you had been fed stories of your older sister and her children, so when you are bethrothed to Jacaerys you arent too sure as to what to expect, and go into your courtship expecting the worse, only to find out you couldn't have been more wrong.

word count: 5,908

CW: MDI 18+, smut, fluff. p in v, fingering, loss of virginity, oral (f reciving), incest not beta read!

Jacaerys Veleryon x Fem!reader

a/n - no war au

Masterlist

She had been betrothed to Prince Jacearys since they were both children, before most noble children even knew the expectation of one day getting married off and yet since the day of said betrothal, they had not spent a single moment together. Nor had you exchanged a single letter nor a single thought of the other, at least she had not.

In all honesty she had simply lived as if he and their impending marriage did not exist, so when he returned for his brother's hearing and for their courtship to officially begin, they were at a complete loss of where to begin, they knew of no common interests, and there family’s had been pitted against each other their entire lives. Seeing as they had never been close in their youth, nor present much time together, seeing as she had kept to herself or Heleana, and Jacearys having spent most of his time with his brother and hers.

She had always preferred solitude, preferred to keep to her books, painting, and her beloved dragon Gaelithox. Gaelithox perhaps the only being she would spend day after day with willingly.

she had hoped he would be similar. Though from what she could remember, he always seemed to find himself surrounded by others, not once does she remember seeing him alone. Perhaps if she had then she would have gotten to know him. But for her crowds were her worst fear, talking to more than one person or anyone was really. But Jacearys was always the centre of attention, with his good looks and charisma, it seemed he never begged for attention, it just always simply found him. She hoped marrying him would not force her to become the same.

How they expected her to one day be queen confused her. With Jacearys as the future king she would have all these responsibilities and have to do everything she hated. Her mother had made sure to tell her that, to start to show her what would be expected of her.

For all she knew it was a scare tactic from her mother, y/n knew her mother hated them, she would call them bastards and would whisper in her ear more and more rumours about her eldest sister and her eldest son.

So, when he arrived all she could do was watch him. Scared to start a conversation, and too nervous to make any moves towards him. So she stood from the sidelines as he found himself surrounded by the keeps inhabitants.

As she watched him at dinner, following lucerys victory of being declared the future lord of the tides, she very much doubted he would like solitude as much as she did. The few moments where he found himself not in conversation, he almost seemed nervous. She feared he would never understand her fear of crowds, or her hate for balls and feasts. Nor understand what her mother referred to as her quirks. He was loud and charismatic, all traits she lacked. He was drawn to crowds and seemed to thrive at the events she hated. But he seemed to suffer in the moments she loved the moments alone, the quiet moments.

She had been forced to sit away from her usual seat and sit nearer to the centre, a place where all eyes were on her. She sat opposite her eldest sister, Rhaenyra, with Jacearys on one side, and Aegon on the other.

Aegon had been making crude jokes all evening, whispering and taunting her. Though she had become extremely talented at ignoring him, it was starting to bug her, and all she wished was to retire to bed.

Luckily, he seemed to be the only one interested in her, until Rhaenyra decided to start a conversation with her. She had never really known her eldest sister, having always been stopped by her mother. She remembered when her and Rhaenyra would have bi-weekly garden tea, until her mother found out and banned her from even going near Rhaenrya chambers.

Over the years her mother had told her only the worst about Rhaenyra, and forced her own hatred or mayhap envy of her onto y/n. And yet she only ever seemed to be kind to her when they did interact.

“Sister?” y/n heard her call out.

“Yes princess?” she responded, stuttering from being addressed.

“Are you quite alright, you look quite pale?” her face was concerned, as did Jaceaerys when he turned from his seat to face ger at his mother’s words.

“i-“ you looked down starting to pull at the skin on your fingers, “i do not find i fit in well in such gatherings, it's just stress” she spoke, voice shaking as y/n looked down and bringing her fingers to her mouth biting the skin around them.

“Would you like me to escort you back to your chambers?” She heard Jacearys ask in concern.

At this her mother’s attention was captured, as she snapped her head around, ending her conversation with her grandsire, in doing so capturing the whole tables attention “what’s wrong dearests?”

“i- i would like to retire mother?” y/n almost begged, desperate for the offered reprieve.

“of course Aem-“her mother began, before being interrupted, clearly offering Aemond to escort her to her chambers.

“I shall escort her,” Jacearys interrupted, standing from his seat and offering his hand that

she took it nervously. These were the most words either had spoken for each other, at least that she could remember.

Walking down the halls of the keep, she found herself in a comfortable silence. Though Jacearys seemed to find it rather uncomfortable as he began to ramble on about gods knows what.

“so i told Luke -“

She hummed, responding to a question she probably heard minutes ago, she hated to admit it but she was seriously struggling to follow whatever he was talking about. The topic of which changed near every second.

He stopped walking suddenly, causing her to be pulled back as their arms were still interlinked. He seemed to finally realise he was talking nonsense and had lost her completely “I’m sorry, I’ve been rambling on and you can’t even follow a word of what i was saying i-“

“oh no i- i, well yes, but I believe you are just nervous… as am il” y/n spoke softly.

He nodded, “your right, i- i have been trying to think of anything i know about you, any shared memories and yet i can not find a single thing” he shook his head, seemingly ashamed.

“oh well… we never really talked until today, i always much preferred my own company to that of others”

“oh i- really?” he sounded confused as if spending time by himself was beyond him.

“i always found i was always more myself when with others, in fact i find myself nervous when I am alone '' he spoke, slowly making sure not to ramble on once more.

“I suppose I have never found such solace with another person as to feel myself with another person” you looked down, she too seemed so polar to one another and feared her solitude would always be interrupted once she married him.

“I understand that, Luke is the same way” he looked at her then, “i hope that i can be the person you find solace in, one day..” he took her hands, stoking them softly, it was always a hard thing for her, touch. Always avoiding it, and only taking hugs to shaking someone’s hand when she knew social construct dictated she should. And yet with him it was fine it seemed nice almost, something she could get used to, even find solace in.

“I would like that” she nodded, and he gave her a sweet smile, relief almost washing over his face. He took her arm once more and led her back to her chambers, this time instead of rambling, he simply asked her questions about herself, and for once she happily answered them.

The next day she was awoken to the sound of rapped knocks on her door. Though she normally slept in, it was still rather early for such a thing. Opening the door she saw Jacaerys standing with a bouquet of flowers, more specifically peonies, a flower that you would often find embroidered on several of her dresses.

“Prince-“

”Jace” he interrupted “ please call me Jace, we are to be a married soon it is only right”

“Jace” she said slowly, getting used to the informality she lacked with even her own family , “what are you doing here so early?”

“Early?” he laughed, as if if the idea that nine in the morning could ever be considered early, “i suppose it could be”

”Why are you here?” She asked, almost irritated.

“Sorry,” he spoke, reaching his arm out to present her with the peonies'' i simply came to ask if we may break our fast, with the hope you had yet to eat and yet it seems i woke you,” he shook his head “i apologise, i am used to waking up early for training. I should have thought you may have preferred to sleep in” he looked down nervously.

Sniffing the flowers, she moved into her room, leaving the door agar as an invitation for Jace to come in. ”I would like that” she nodded, “Though this is still rather early for me, so i shall need to call my maids to help me dress and prepare our breakfast”

”early?” He again asked, “what time do you normally wake?”

”Mostly before noon, but not before 10,” you looked up with a small smile, “i find i can sleep the days away if allowed, it is one of the few things i can never seem to get enough off”

He laughed, the nerves leaving him slightly. “I find i am always awake by eight, at the latest, sadly i do not possess the same skill to sleep in, a skill i am much jealous of.” He smiled, “ i shall have the guards fetch your maids and order breakfast, and perhaps tomorrow we may share lunch instead”

“I would like that,” she nodded.

Their fast was spent with the exchange of shy smiles and timid questions asked, as time went on they grew more comfortable and found their rhythm, and she found the tiredness she felt from talking to others never came.

The next moon was perfect, each day she would wake, dress, then Jace would meet her and she broke her fast and he took his second meal. Then they would walk the gardens. After a few days, she confessed how typically she would ride Gaelithox the second she awoke, and soon they found they were going for dragon rides every morning. Vermax and Gaelithox enjoying each other's company. Every second was filled with chatter, and those few that were not, neither felt any awkwardness, just contentment, solace.

They seemed to spend almost every second of every day with each other and yet she not once found it tiring, or wished for a reprieve, she simply wished for more.

There were even days where she wished for no talking and Jace was more than happy to spend the whole day in silence, simply enjoying each other's company, as they went about their own tasks.

She felt as if she was learning everything there was to know about him, through his stories she felt as if she knew his brothers, his family, like she had grown up with them , and not just watching them. She learnt his quirks and he learnt hers. And every day they seemed to learn something new.

But today was the first day she would spend without him since his arrival, with her father , the king, asking for Jace to accompany the small council meetings from now on.

So she had planned to spend the day alone, resuming her old daily routine even on the days where Jace was not in her company.

That was until her mother decided to skip the small council meeting and spend the day with her.

”Do not ever trust them, dearest” her mother tutted, brushing through her hair. “They only wish for you and he to grow close so when the time comes you are on their side-“

She had tried to tune her out, but the instant comments answered messing with her head. She felt as if she was falling in love with Jace and yet they way her mother spoke of him, it was as if he was worse than Aegon, a fact she knew was not true.

“mother!” she finally snapped , shaking her head she pulled away from her mother, “i do not care! Jace shall be my husband and as you have reminded me since the day I first bleed, that my duty is to my husband and his family before my own.” she then whispered to herself “a fact you do not follow yourself” continuing she said “ so why now when it is the son of the woman you despise, am I to do the opposite?” It was so out of character for her and yet years and years of hearing the words bastard and betrayal and whispers of war, she was finished.

She fully pulled away from her mother and stood up, straightening her dress, “this past moon i have felt more seen and known by Jace than anyone my whole life. My whole life I have detested company, and chatter, and have at any and all attempts avoided events. and now i find the one person i do not detest, and would falsely attend any event he wishes me to, someone i enjoy spending time with, my future husband! You wish to ruin it for me! Do you not want me to be happy?” She nearly yelled, her face turning from the sweet, shy and docile face it had always been had turned angry “you clearly do not wish for Heleana to have happiness, as clear with her marriage to Aegon at three and ten!” She was steaming, years of biting her younger so as to not gain attention, or do more talking that’s necessary, bitterness flowed through her.

”dearest i-“ her mother started, moving towards and reaching for her to pull her in a hug, only to be met by an instant rejection.

”I simply wish for whatever war you are making up in your head to end, so you can finally allow me the happiness I deserve!” And with that she walked about, only to be met with Jace and Rhaenyra's face as she walked out.

Jace chased after her, leaving his mother left to deal with Alicent.

”y/n” he called out, “y/n stop!”

“No, I can't,” she said as she continued down the halls, though she did slow down, allowing Jace a chance to catch up with her. “if i stop walking I’ll march right back in there and apologies!” she proclaimed.

“I'm sure you won't, you did the right thing '' Jace spoke, still trying to catch up with her.

“i have bite my tongue my whole life, never expressing my thoughts or opinions, and today i did!” she spoke, as she realised she was walking towards Jace’s chambers. She didn’t even think of where she was going, having stormed out of her own rooms, it seemed that in this past month his room had become a comfort to her.

Finally catching up in time to open the door to his rooms. “y/n you don’t have to explain, you didn’t do anything, you just spoke up for yourself and…for me” y/n swear she saw him blush.

“i know it was hard for you, that talking and expressing yourself is something your struggle with…but you stood up for yourself it’s nothing you have to feel bad about it’s something you should be proud of” he grabbed her hand and brought it to his lips “and in all honestly i was rather impressed”

“you where?” she blushed, stepping one closer.

he nodded, “ you know me and my mother were coming to your chambers to discuss the wedding” he said wrapping his arm around her waist. a movement and touch she had now grown to love. “ We are to be married in a fortnight” his face moved closer to her.

“We are?” she questioned, her breathing getting heavier.

he nodded, there faces so close they were sharing their breaths “yes, soon you will be my wife, and i your husband and your mothers silly little rants will have no sway any longer”

she gasped, he leant forward and finally kissed her, it was soft and sweet, leaving them both a blushing mess.

The next two weeks moved slowly, filled with wedding planning.

Her relationship with her mother was strained, finding most of the planning to be with her eldest sister Rhaenrya and even Heleana more so than her own mother. And the few times she was there she simply sent a glare in their direction and took at every laugh and smile.

She found that she rather enjoyed her sister's company, the two having a few similar interests. Rhaenyra seemed kind and cared for her children a great deal and as a result she did with her too.

She knew her mother cared, but watching her mother interact with Rhaenyra highlighted that most of her mothers objections were actually ones of jealousy. She was Jealous of Rhaenyra and more so of Daemon, as he received more glares the more he and Rhaenrya showed affection to one another. So much jealousy that she swear she saw some longing in her gaze whenever she stared at Rhaenrya.

The day before her wedding she finally found herself alone with her mother though from the way her mother barged into her room she knew the conversation the pair were about to have would not be a pleasant one.

“sit down dearest” she spoke as she herself got comfortable. Doing as her mother bid, she sat beside her. Her mother quickly took her hand in hers, tight enough that even if she were to recoil it would not break her free.

“When I had this. Conversation with your sister, she already knew some of what was to come, with her Marrying Aegon, and will he loved to taunt her with the gory details for moons before their wedding” Alicent took a deep breath. “On the morrow you will be wed, and with that shall come some expectations”

she nodded, not quite sure what her mother meant. “not only will you be taking on some of my duties but there is also the expectation of an heir…” she looked at her then, expecting her to interrupt in some way. She stayed quiet, she knew she would have to have children but how the act itself was done was peculiar to her.

Her mother shifted uncomfortably, “once you are wed the marriage must be consummated” she awkwardly grabbed at her hands, “it will be uncomfortable but some pleasure can be found in the act” she sent her mother peculiar look, causing her mother to cough uncomfortably and once again move to explain “your husband will…insert himself in you, and spill his seed, allowing a babe to be made, though it can take some time so i shall prey you are lucky and conceive soon…”

she looked down quietly “mother “she spoke slowly, “Aegon is my brother, though he and i aren’t close i have…walked in on him numerous times, time enough to know what sex is”

Her mother was shocked, looking down and shaking her head, “your brother has no shame-“

“mother, i also have a septa who taught me” she laughed, Heleana only did not know because she was young mother, i am aware, in fact me and-“ she cut herself off not wanting her mother to become more shocked at hearing how her and Jace have already talked of the wedding night.

They were both inexperienced, though Jace had been taken to brothels by Daemon he had never actually done anything, wanting to save himself for his wife. A fact she was most happy about.

She loved Jace, she realised. He was everything she did not expect, though he was chatty and loud, he was also kind and sweet, a perfect gentleman. She and him had more in common than not, they both loved to read though Jace found little time to do so, so was more than happy to listen to her ramble on and on about the last book she read. She had shown him how to paint and draw, a skill he, though terrible at, found rather enjoyable, especially when he got the flicking paint at her. She herself had even found she loved a few of his hobbies or well if you can call sword fighting a hobby.

she remembered the morning, it was still early in their courtship, the first week in. She and Jace had yet to sleep and yet they could see dawn breaking through the windows in his room. They had spent the whole day and night talking, getting to know each other. “it’s dawn already?” Jace sighed as he moved from his spot on the sofa. she sighed from the movement, missing his warmth.

“it’s seems so” she hummed

“it’ll be time for training soon.” he spoke, not necessarily to her.

“Do you train alone?”

“Here I do, On Dragonstone Daemon is typically dragging me and Luke out of bed the second the sun begins to rise but here he has no desire to train” he looked at her, “why don’t you join me?” he asked.

“i have never even touched a sword” she exclaimed, as if the idea was a mad one.

He grinned “exactly, it’ll be most entertaining!”

she laughed, “fine, but you must promise to show me your high Valyrian!” y/n declared, he had been complaining how bad his Valyrian was but refused to show her, despite her being fluent and offering to teach him.

He sighed, then a big grin filled his face “very well, let us teach one another, i teach you in swordsmanship and you teach me high Valyrian”

she laughed “very well! though i make no promises to these swordplay lessons!”

They met again in the training yard, both in training clothes. She had borrowed hers from Jace and she was sure he was trying to sabotage her. His clothes hung from her in an almost comical way, he himself had laughed as she nearly tripped netting the training yard.

“you look beautiful” he said though his eyes were full of mirth as he took in the way his clothes hung from her.

“Perhaps you could have given me some of Luke's clothes instead” she sighed, a frown forming her face as she hung her arm up to show just how big his sleeves were compared to her arms.

“Next time we shall!” he declared, stopping his laughter to then pass her a wooden sword “for now it’s fine.”

The sword was heavier than she was expecting, as shown by how she nearly dropped it.

“do you do any exercise?” he asked, seeing her near miss with the sword.

she scoffed “no, do i look like someone who does?” she asked bewildered.

he laughed “no i suppose not, and knowing you it doesn't surprise me that you do not” he took the sword off her “perhaps we should start with some exercise”

“what?” she asked, she hated doing anything that could be remotely referred to as exercise.

“Don’t worry, just some light exercise, to build stamina” he looked at her then, something passing through his eyes. something she had yet to see.

He had made her run ten laps, stretch in more easily than she knew possible, And then finally let her hold the sword. “You know I was hoping you wouldn’t take this so seriously” she sighed, hitting the dummy repeatedly. Jace corrects her technique with each hit. “really?”

“Of course not, when you said it I had hoped we would just be jesting around” she sighed dramatically, before moving to place the sword down on the rack. “I think that this ‘lesson’ is over.” she started to walk away only for Jace to grab her arm.

“Wait!” he said, pulling her back to him gently. “Are you really not enjoying yourself?” he asked with a sad smile on his face.

y/n sighed, before a small smile graced her face “no, but perhaps hearing you speak some high Valyrian may make it more joyous.” she spoke, though she was enjoying herself a little, though it would definitely not be a hobby she would be taking up, though watching him practice his swordsmanship, that is a hobby she will be taking up.

“I- really?” he asked, his face unsure, “nyk-e don’t ȳdragon ziree sȳr”

She laughed, his accent and pronunciation were all over the place, perhaps she was better at swordsmanship after one lesson that he was at high Valyrian after years of lessons, “it’s gaoman daor ȳdragon ziry sȳrī”

I do not speak it well

“See what I mean!” he exclaimed, as she continued to laugh.

“oh Jace, gaomagon daor worry nyke sure kesā jiōragon sȳrkta isse daor jēda” she taunted.

do not worry I’m sure you will get better in no time

“I have no idea what you just said '' he sighed, shaking his head, “but at least i can hold a sword properly” he taunted back to her.

“Hey! It's my first lesson, have you been learning high Valyrian for how long?” she questioned, a gleam in her eyes.

“hāre jēdri” he replied, a smile as he realised he had pronounced it correctly

Three years

She hummed, beginning to circle him, “hāre jēdri? funny seeing hae heleanas riñar ȳdragon sȳrkta eglie valyrain than ao se issi balrey hāre pōntāla”

three years? Funny seeing as Heleanas children speak better high Valyrian than you and they are balrey three themselves

“I- well, stop taunting me!” he protested.

“Only if we can stop this, will I have reached my yearly exercise limit.. For the year!” she joked, dramatically falling, conveniently into his arms.

“Fine, fine!” he said, “but you can not mention to anyone about my high Valyrian.” he brought her back to her feet.

“Oh please who would i tell? se lo nyke gōntan, skorkydoso would ao sesīr gīmigon?” she laughed, starting to walk away, only to have Jace chase her back all the way back to her chambers.

and if i did, how would you even know?

It was safe to say she never participated in his training again, but on the odd days she was awake when he went, she found she did in fact enjoy watching him.

It took a few attempts before they found a hobby they both loved equally. Painting. She had been painting for as long as she can remember, Jace however had taken it up about two weeks ago, but seemed to love it as much as she.

“Let's paint each other!” Jace declared, as he saw the paints y/n left out.

She hesitated, “have you ever painted before?”

“No, but how hard could it be?” She laughed at that, but said nothing.

They sat opposite each other, their art facing only themselves. They gave themselves an hour before they would show each other what they had painted.

Jace went first. He seemed so proud of himself. To give him credit it was fairly good, though it looked nothing like her.

“It's good!” she exclaimed, “i like it” she reached forward to grab it “i shall have it framed” she hummed. Jace smiled widely at that.

“Show me yours!” he asked, or more declared as he turned the canvas around himself.

His face was shocked, mouth wide, “i- wow” he was at a loss of words. “This is incredible!” he exclaimed, his face one of awe, “and you said mine was good!, you were lying!”

She laughed, “no-no it is, i promise” i grabbed his art then, comparing the two, before throwing his on the floor, “oh please, mine is rubbish, yours is wow! I think it shall become my official portrait!” he exclaimed standing up and walking to the doors with it.

“woah ! where are you going?” she asked standing up to follow him.

“Too show everyone” he stated as if it was the obvious answer.

He showed it to everyone he saw, a blushing y/n on his tail.

“Mother.” she spoke, back once more in the present, “i trust him, more than anyone and anything” at that her mother relaxed, and for the first time in what felt like a long time, she saw a real smile gracing her mothers face.

The day of the wedding came, she had expected nerves and jitters, and yet all she felt was contentment. She knew she was lucky, most brides barely knew their husband before they wed them, and she knew Jace and he knew her. She knew his quirks, his hobbies, and he knew hers. They were polar opposites, and yet they fit so perfectly together. She was excited for this day, and as was he.

The dress she wore was her mothers dress. A white dress with sleeves coming down to her elbow before dropping down to the length of her dress showing a deep red. On her shoulder sat two dragons, dragons she had changed to represent Vermax and Gaelithox. The dragons were joined together and connected in an intricate pattern on her bodice. She wore no jewellery, only a small head piece, woven into the braids on her hair.

“You look beautiful” her mother declared. “Are you ready?”

y/n nodded, taking one final look at herself in the mirror, one last time before leaving her room.

The wedding was a blur, it went by so fast and before she knew it, Jace and her were declaring their love and sealing it with a kiss. They exchanged giddy smiles as they left the

sept, their hands never wavering from their grip. The night celebrations went by quickly. The only time they never once left each others sides. It was the first event y/n ever truly enjoyed, they had danced four times that night, feasted to their heart's content, and enjoyed the first few hours of being newlyweds.

Then it was time for the bedding. She had never been more grateful than when Jace shouted at the men attempting to drag her away, and he himself picking her up and taking her to their now shared chambers.

“I am sorry for that.” he spoke, taking her hand in his, “I had made it clear we would not have a bedding, but -”

“Aegon had other plans' ' she interrupted, “do not worry, it's just who he is' ' she laughed.

For the first time in weeks the silence between them was awkward. Both knowing what was to come, but not how to start.

After a few moments Jace finally moved forward, he reached for her slowly, one had wrapping around her waist, the other reaching up to caress her face. They both looked at each other shyly, before Jace moved in closer, his lips capturing hers. It was soft and slow.

His lips still joined with hers they moved further into the room, his hand moving from her waist to her back, reaching and slowly unlacing the binds of her bodice.

“Are you okay with this?” he asked, breaking away from her lips.

She nodded, “yes.” As she slowly reached to pull of her dress, leaving her in just her chemise.

Jace groaned his pants tightening, he reached forward once again capturing her lips in his.

They slowly moved towards the bed, her hands reaching towards his clothes, slowly taking them off and leaving him in his small clothes.

There lips breaking apart, they both took each other in, before finally lying on the bed. Jace continued to kiss her slowly moving from her lips to her neck, his hands reaching down to her should and moving the straps of her chemise down, revealing her breasts.

“gods” he groaned, “you’re so beautiful” he said as he moved down to kiss her breasts. Slowly moving down her body, removing her chemise as he did, leaving her bare beneath him.

He was level with her heat, he had heard of kissing there and the thought of tasting her in such a way made a groan escape him. “Can I?” he begged, unsure of what he meant y/n nodded.

Jace dived in, giving a cautious lick through her folds, he groaned at the taste and quickly went back licking and tasting like a starved man. She herself was moaning in pleasure, her hands clutching the back of his neck, tightening when he finally found her bud.

Releasing the reaction form touching the small bud of nerves, he made sure to focus his efforts on it, sucking it into his mouth, and bringing his fingers up to her entrance, beginning to circle her juices and slowly tease his way into her.

Tensing at the feeling of the intrusion, she gripped further onto him, and started to move away. With his spare hand he gripped onto her and pulled her back to him. His finger now pully in he instead started to focus his intentions of pumping them in and out of her. Causing her to start moaning once again in pleasure, even more so when his second and third finger entered her. Soon she was reaching her peak.

He slowly backed away from her, pulling down his small clothes to revel his hard, thick long length.

“gods” they both groaned at the sight of the others naked body. He slowly crawled back onto the bed, his body covering hers. He once again took her lips with his, in a passionate and heated kiss, his legs slowly parted hers as he positioned himself at her entrance.

“Are you sure?” he once again asked, caressing her face.

She nodded, covering the hand on her face with her own and reaching forward to kiss him again, “yes” she consented.

He nodded, kissing her once more as he slowly entered her.

She groaned at the stretch, feeling at slight sting as he slowly entered her. Her face contorted in quick discomfort, but quickly faded as he settled himself fully inside her, allowing her time to adjust.

“gods, you feel amazing” he groaned, moving his head to her neck. “can I move?” he groaned, near begged.

“yes” she said, and he wasted no time, slowly pumping in and out of her. Slowly the discomfort faded and all she could find was pure pleasure.

Moving in and out of her, Jace was moaning, kissing her neck with each thrust, he had never felt such pleasure as he did in this moment.

Slowly picking up the pace, he soon found that sweet spot inside her, that turned her into a moaning mess. Wrapping her arms around his neck she was soon grinding her hips against his, chasing her peak, and he was soon reaching one of his own, spilling his seed inside of her.

Slowly pulling from her, her moved to wrap his arms around her waist and pull her towards him, he kissed her slowly and whispered, “I love you”. In that moment she felt what could only be described as solace.

That night, they did not sleep a wink, nor would they in the moons that followed. Their marriage was a harmonious one, one of love and joy. And when the king finally passed, and Rhaenrya was queen, there was no division of factions of house Targaryen, she liked to think that their marriage has helped branch the units, and make them once more a family.

Even more so when nine moons after their wedding she birthed their first child.

Taglist

@aleemendoza2425-blog @apollonshootafar @zillahvathek @flrboyd @targaryenmoony @theanxietyqueen17 @leavesmealobe @dark-night-sky-99

to be added to taglist

#house of the dragon #jace veleryon x oc #jace velaryon #hotd smut #jacaerys valaryon x reader #jacerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys targaryen #jacaerys x reader #jacerys velaryon #jace velaryon x reader #harry collett #house of the dragon smut #jacaerys velaryon smut #jacaerys smut #jacaerys strong x reader #jacaerys velaryon x reader #jace strong #sacha writes ✍️

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kyeomofhearts · 4 months ago

Text

Back For More | J.WW

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ "A little rain never hurt anyone." ᯓᡣ𐭩

+ summary: while adjusting to your new life in college, you couldn't help but attract the attention of wonwoo, someone you happen to share a history with. + pairing: badboy!wonwoo x fem!reader + genre(s): fluff, smut, romance, childhood acquaintances to lovers (?), angst (only if you squint at the end). + word count: 6.3k + content: badboy!wonwoo, college au, mature language, teasing. + warnings: heavy make out session, a lot of teasing in-between, oral (fem!rec), they switch positions like once, slight overstimulation, hair pulling, dry humping, wonwoo calls reader 'birdy'. [MDNI]

[ᝰ.ᐟ] heyyyy! long time no see :D i know i took forever on posting this but at least i hope i made it worth the wait. if you like it please comment and reblog, it honestly pushes me to write more hehe! ALSO HUGE THANKS TO @facethesunflower for beta reading this for me!!

The helmet glared in your direction. It was taunting you in a way, as if it knew that you were scared.

It was dumb, really—a mere helmet causing such unease—but here you were, voice wavering as you mumbled, “There’s absolutely no way I’m getting on that bike.”

Wonwoo chuckled softly, the sound teasing but warm. And as much as Wonwoo wanted to tease you about this, he knew it would only make you resist riding the bike with him. So for now, he planned to calm you down and make fun of you later.

“Yn, come on,” he said, placing a warm hand on your shoulder. The comforting weight of it anchored you, even as you felt your nerves spiraling all over the place. “I promise I’ll be careful.”

He leaned in slightly, his eyes meeting yours with a softness that was almost disarming. “We’ll just ride through the streets,” he assured, “and I’ll go slow.”

His thumb moved in gentle circles as he spoke, a small, mindless motion that shouldn’t have been so calming but somehow was. You took a shaky breath, trying to steady yourself under his touch.

There was a pause as you studied him. Wonwoo’s expression was earnest, his words reassuring. As much as your cautious side screamed at you to refuse, another part of you—the part that, unfortunately, trusted him—nudged you forward. Maybe this could actually be fun?

“Promise you’ll be careful?” you asked again, needing to hear it one more time.

“Absolutely,” he replied without hesitation, his voice firm.

With a reluctant sigh, you grabbed his backpack. It was heavier than expected, filled with a mix of his and your belongings, but it was manageable. “Let’s hope this thing even fits me,” you muttered, reaching for the helmet.

Sliding it on took more effort than you’d anticipated. The snug fit surprised you, given how helmets aren’t exactly one-size-fits-all. Probably just pure luck, you thought.

Wonwoo stepped closer to help secure the straps. His hands worked deftly, and before you realized it, his face was mere inches from yours. Heat crept up your cheeks, and you silently thanked the helmet for concealing your embarrassment. The last thing you wanted was to feed his already-inflated ego.

But as he adjusted the straps, you noticed the smaller details of his face—the faint blemishes, the tiny imperfections that only seemed to make him more human. More real.

“Having fun?” His voice broke through your thoughts.

You blinked, refocusing on his smirking face. That smirk—arrogant yet endearing—should be trademarked at this point.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you shot back, attempting to salvage your pride. “I can still back out, you know.”

Wonwoo chuckled, clearly unimpressed by your empty threat. “And yet, here you are.”

You rolled your eyes, choosing silence instead of fighting back. You distracted yourself with the weather. The air carried a light warmth, a preview of spring’s arrival. Clouds lingered from last night’s rain, their soft edges catching hints of sunlight. It was, admittedly, a perfect day for a ride.

The growl of the engine pulled your attention back to the present. Wonwoo glanced at you, his helmet obscuring most of his face but not the playful tilt of his head.

“Ynnn,” he drawled, motioning for you to get on.

“Uh,” you hesitated, awkwardly gesturing at the bike. “How do I…?”

He laughed, the sound low and easy. “Okay, first, stand on the left side. Put your foot here.” He tapped the footpeg. “Then swing your other leg over.”

You followed his instructions, pausing halfway. God, this was nerve-wracking.

“Don’t worry,” he said gently. “I’m keeping the bike steady. Just hold onto me if you need to.”

Summoning your courage, you followed his instructions and managed to climb onto the bike. It wasn’t as bad as you’d imagined.

“Good,” Wonwoo praised. “Now, scoot closer to me so we can balance better.”

Your arms hovered uncertainly around his waist.

With a light chuckle, he reached back and pulled your arms firmly around him. “Like this,” he said, tapping your hands lightly.

The closeness made your heart race even more. You prayed he couldn’t feel it through his jacket.

Wonwoo adjusted his helmet and then turned slightly to playfully bump it against yours. He gave you a double thumbs-up, silently asking if you were ready.

Well, you’ve come this far, you thought. No turning back now.

With a deep sigh, you returned the gesture.

The bike jerked forward gently, easing into motion. Wonwoo kept the speed low at first, giving you time to adjust. As he twisted the accelerator, the wind began to rush past, carrying your nerves with it.

The city unfolded around you, familiar streets taking on a new perspective. The freedom of the ride was exhilarating, the hum of the engine a steady reassurance to your being. Despite your initial hesitance, you felt… safe.

You tightened your hold on Wonwoo as the bike picked up speed, your heart pounding—not just from the ride but from his proximity and the warmth radiating through his jacket.

For the duration of the ride, neither of you spoke. Well, it’s not like you could, anyway. The world blurred in a rush of motion and colors, leaving you breathless in the best way.

And… when the bike finally came to a stop, you almost wished it hadn’t.

Wonwoo set the kickstand down and turned off the engine. He glanced back at you, smirking as he noticed your arms still wrapped tightly around him.

“Enjoying yourself, huh?”

Flustered, you quickly let go and tried to dismount without his help, only to stumble halfway.

“Careful,” he said, steadying you with a hand on your waist, “don’t want you getting hurt now, do we?” And with that, he hopped off the bike with ease, extending his hand like it was second nature.

Taking his hand, you let him guide you off the bike; your legs felt wobbly, but you managed to stand nonetheless.

“How was the ride?” he asked, his voice slightly muffled through the helmet.

“It was…” you said as you both pulled off your helmets, the sound of the world rushing back to your ears. “…it was actually kind of fun.”

Wonwoo grinned, happy with your response. “Told you so.”

There was a beat or two where you just looked at each other, not knowing what else to say.

With little reluctance, you held out the helmet with both hands, feeling oddly shy. “Here. Thanks for letting me borrow it,” you said softly.

He took the helmet, his fingers briefly brushing yours. “You kind of needed it.”

Ugh, there he goes!

“I regret ever saying anything,” you groaned out, already making your way past him.

Wonwoo didn’t say anything as he trailed behind you, too busy basking in his victory

As you made your way inside the elevator, you couldn’t resist the urge to tease him back. “And just where do you think you’re going?”

He shrugged casually. “Just following my backpack,” he murmured, giving a light tug on the grab handle of his backpack—the one that you forgot you had on.

Oh.

“If you just wanted to invite me over, you could have said so.” You didn’t need to look at him to know he was thoroughly amused with himself.

You huffed in annoyance, there was no winning when it came to him. “Just shut up.”

You shrugged off his backpack, taking your squished tote from its confines. “Here you go! Now you can go on your way.”

Wonwoo laughed at your little attitude. “Well, now that I’m here… it would be rude to just have you walk alone, wouldn’t it?”

While you would be more strict on letting a guy walk you to your apartment—more for privacy and safety reasons—you couldn’t help but be more lenient for Wonwoo. Part of you thinks that it’s due to knowing him for many years, but you know that wouldn’t be the complete truth.

You rolled your eyes at him but couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips.

He chuckled, the sound low and warm. “Cat got your tongue?”

You didn’t say anything, only opting to flip him off as a response.

The elevator finally dinged, and you stepped out, leading him down the hallway. When you reached your door, you turned to face him fiddling with the handle. “Well, this is me. Thanks again for today, Wonwoo. Really.”

He leaned casually against the wall, his hands tucked into his jacket pockets. “Anytime.”

And just as you were about to respond to him, the sound of an apartment door—more specifically yours—creaked wide open.

The sight of Yubin standing in the doorway startled you, and you stepped aside just as Sohee appeared behind her, holding a cup of coffee.

The pair froze at the sight of Wonwoo by the door.

“Oh,” Yubin said slowly, her gaze flicking between the two of you. “Didn’t realize you were… busy.”

“Oh—I’m not!” you managed to blurt out. “I mean, we’re not. We just…” You trailed off, gesturing vaguely toward nothing.

“Right,” Yubin said, her tone neutral but laced with that teasing tone you’ve grown accustomed to.

You groaned inwardly, knowing they wanted an introduction. “This is Wonwoo,” you mumbled, motioning toward him. “He’s an old friend.”

“Old friend?” Yubin repeated, her tone still teasing. “And I was beginning to think that you didn’t have any friends besides us…”

You shot her a glare. “Well, we only knew each other back then—”

Sohee’s eyes widened as she continued to look at you and Wonwoo. “Oh my god! Yubin, it’s that Wonwoo!” She said as she violently shook Yubin’s shoulders.

Wonwoo couldn’t help but laugh at the cute dynamic between the three of you. He also couldn’t help but feel more interested to know about what you may have told them about him.

“Didn’t know you spoke about me, birdy,” he piped in, looking directly into your eyes.

“She actua—” Sohee started, but you quickly covered her mouth with your hands, embarrassment flushing your cheeks.

“Relax. We’re just messing with you,” Yubin said, giving you a playful nudge. Her attention turned back to Wonwoo. “Well, we’d love to stay and chat, but we were actually heading to the library. Don’t have too much fun, you two.”

“Yubin!” you hissed as she sauntered past, Sohee close behind.

“See you later, Yn. Don’t let the rain get to you, Wonwoo!” Sohee called over her shoulder, shooting you one last knowing grin before disappearing down the hallway. Rain?

As the door softly clicked shut, you were left in an almost suffocating silence. You exhaled heavily, your cheeks still burning from the encounter.

“Your roommates seem fun,” Wonwoo said, his lips twitching with amusement.

“Very,” you agreed almost instantly.

He tilted his head, studying you for a moment. “You know,” he said casually, “I don’t mind being teased, especially if it’s about you.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and you fumbled for a response. “That’s… I mean… they’re just—”

“Glad to know that you talk about me, though,” he said, leaning slightly closer, his voice dropping just enough to make your pulse quicken. “I wouldn’t mind doing this again.”

You blinked, your breath catching.

His smile deepened, and for a moment, you thought he was going to say something else. But instead, he straightened himself and stepped back. “Although, what’s this about rain?… Wasn’t it just sunny when we got here?”

You shrugged. “I’m not sure either, I was kind of confused by that too.”

Wonwoo only hummed. “Well, a little rain never hurt anyone.”

Maybe he was right, a little rain wasn’t the end of the world. If anything, it should be sprinkling at most right now. The weather can’t change that fast.

“I’ll see you on Sunday?” he said, ruffling your hair a bit.

You swatted at his hand only to reply with a meek, “Sure.”

With that, he turned on his heel, slipping out into the hallway. You watched as he walked back to the elevator, hands in his pockets, before finally shutting your apartment door.

A little bit after Wonwoo had left, you decided to change into something more comfortable, opting for sweats and an oversized shirt. You put on one of your favorite shows for background noise only to notice how loud the it was outside.

Wanting to see, you went over to the window near the kitchen, peeling back the curtain slightly—the sky was considerably darker than before.

Your brows furrowed. Huh?

The rain was coming down in thick sheets now, the wind faintly whistling as it rattled the nearby street signs. That was weird. It hadn’t even been a full thirty minutes since you came in with Wonwoo, and now it was pouring? The sight of it made your stomach churn in concern.

“A little rain never hurt anyone.”

You sighed. What an idiot.

Still, he was an adult. He could take care of himself. You turned away from the window, trying to ignore the pit growing in your stomach. He’ll be fine.

To take your mind off of him, you decided to pull out some of your favorite candles—to help boost that rainy day ambiance, at least.

While lighting them up, you heard a loud knock at your door.

Then another. The second knock was a lot louder this time. Frantic, if anything.

Hesitant, you made your way to the door, checking to see who it was through the peephole, only for it to be Wonwoo. Ha.

Opening the door, you immediately burst into a fit of laughter—he was completely drenched. His black jacket clung to him, rainwater dripping from the ends of his hair, strands plastered to his forehead. His face was set in a deadpan expression, unamused by your amusement.

“Oh my God,” you wheezed, covering your mouth. “What happened to ‘a little rain never hurt anyone’?”

Wonwoo rolled his eyes, peeling his wet jacket off. “Are you going to keep laughing, or are you going to let me in?”

You pretended to think for a minute, tapping your chin as if you were in deep thought. “Hmm.”

Annoyed, Wonwoo began to move away from you—only for you to catch his wrist and drag him inside. “Yeah, okay, fine. I’m only doing this because you look pathetic.”

He muttered something under his breath but didn’t argue. You shut the door behind him, shaking your head as you turned to look at him again.

“You should’ve just left when you had the chance,” you teased, disappearing into the hallway closet. You returned a moment later with a clean towel, tossing it at him.

He caught it effortlessly, rubbing it over his face and hair before sighing. “It wasn’t that bad at first. But then the wind picked up like crazy, so I just ended up covering my bike.”

You bit your lip, trying to suppress another laugh.

Wonwoo narrowed his eyes. “I hate you.”

You grinned back at him. “No, you don’t.”

He didn’t respond, just continued to dry his hair before reaching for the hem of his soaked shirt. You turned away before he pulled it over his head, quickly rummaging through your dresser for something dry. Eventually, you found another oversized t-shirt and sweatpants—courtesy of your ex-boyfriend from many years ago.

“Here,” you said, handing it over without looking. “Change before you get sick.”

He raised a brow. “This yours?”

“No, it’s Casper’s,” you deadpanned. “Yes, of course, it’s mine! The bathroom is the first door to the right. Now go.” He didn’t need to know the truth…

Wonwoo only hummed, clearly amused by your response. He grabbed the set of clothes and disappeared into the bathroom.

As he changed, you busied yourself in the kitchen, setting water to boil for tea. The rain continued its steady rhythm against the windows, filling the space with a soothing ambiance.

By the time Wonwoo returned—his hair was still slightly damp, but he looked much warmer—he accepted the mug you handed him without question. You led him towards the couch since the kitchen was too cluttered for your liking. For a few minutes, the two of you simply sat there, comfortably sipping your drinks.

“That’s a lot better,” he admitted.

You hummed in agreement. And then, just when you thought the moment would pass without incident—

“So,” he said, setting the mug down on the coffee table. “Your roommates seemed very familiar with me.”

You groaned. “Seriously? We’re back to this again?”

“Uh-huh.” He stretched, letting out a satisfied chuckle. “Any hint to what you have been saying about me?”

You glared at him. “That you’re super annoying.”

He grinned. “And…?”

“I plead the fifth!”

His smirk didn’t fade. If anything, it deepened. “Oh, that’s interesting.”

Your face burned. “That’s not—”

Wonwoo shifted closer, fingers grazing yours, his voice dropping ever so slightly. “It’s cute, birdy,” he murmured.

Your breath hitched.

The smirk on Wonwoo’s face lingered, but his eyes darkened slightly, scanning your expression like he was waiting—for you to pull away, for you to say something, for anything that might indicate that you don’t want to explore this with him.

But you didn’t move.

Your heart pounded in your ears. The warmth of his hand near yours suddenly felt scorching, his fingertips barely grazing your skin, setting every nerve on fire.

“Birdy,” he murmured, the nickname rolling off his tongue softer this time, almost teasing but laced with something else—something heavier.

You swallowed hard. “You’re so—”

But before you could finish your sentence, Wonwoo closed the distance.

His lips pressed against yours—light at first, testing, lingering just long enough to make your stomach flip. But the second you melted into it, his restraint snapped.

Wonwoo moved fast, one hand slipping around your waist while the other cradled the side of your face, tilting your face just enough to deepen the kiss. He tasted like the tea you had made for him earlier mixed with something distinctly him—something you knew you would crave later. His lips moved against yours like he was trying to make up for all of the times he had almost kissed you but didn’t.

And God, he kissed like he meant it.

Your fingers fisted the fabric of his borrowed shirt, pulling him closer. Wonwoo groaned softly at the movement, the sound low and utterly wrecking. His grip on you tightened as he shifted, guiding you back until your arm met the cushions near the armrest.

He hovered over you now, his body pressed deliciously close, his weight grounding you in a way that made your head spin. His knee slotted between your legs, just barely brushing against you, the contact sending shivers down your spine.

Wonwoo pulled back for a brief moment, his lips barely an inch from yours, his breath warm against your skin. His thumb traced along your jaw, his eyes flickering between yours, searching. “Tell me to stop,” he murmured, voice hoarse, “and I will.”

That was the last thing you wanted, you needed Wonwoo right now.

Instead of answering him, you surged forward, tugging on the collar of his shirt to bring his lips down to yours again. This time, it was you who deepened the kiss, pressing your body against his in a way that made his breath stutter.

“Shit,” he muttered against your mouth, his hand sliding beneath your shirt, fingertips grazing over the skin of your waist. He wasn’t rushing anything—just feeling, mapping out every reaction, every sharp inhale, every soft noise you let slip past your lips.

Your legs wrapped around his waist instinctively, and Wonwoo let out a strained curse under his breath before pressing his lips to your neck, trailing heated kisses along your jawline.

“Didn’t think you’d ever let me get this close,” he murmured, lips brushing against the shell of your ear.

“Felt generous today.” You replied casually, trying to hide your nerves.

His low chuckle vibrated against your throat, and then his teeth grazed against your pulse point, making your fingers dig into his shoulders. “How lucky of me.”

Your mind was sent into a frenzy—you didn’t know where this was leading to. But the way his hands were gripping your waist, combined with the heat of his kisses, you knew that this was something neither of you wanted to stop anytime soon.

And, judging by the way he whispered your name before claiming your lips again, you weren’t going to.

Wonwoo’s lips were relentless, moving against yours like a starved man. Every touch, every press of his fingers against your skin was filled with desire or frustration—one of the two, the weight of whatever had been building between you for far too long taking over.

But then came a sharp knock at the door.

Your entire body tensed. Wonwoo stilled too, his breath fanning against your neck as you both listened—a beat of silence, then muffled voices passing by in the hallway.

Your heart pounded in fear.

Wonwoo exhaled a quiet laugh, his forehead pressing against yours. “We should—” He sucked in a breath when you shifted against him, his fingers tightening on your hips. “—probably move this to your room.”

It took a second a second for you to fully process what he was saying, your mind still fogged with the way he was pressed against you. But then reality hit—your roommates. If they came home right now, they’d find you both tangled up on the couch, and you would never hear the end of it.

You hesitated, but Wonwoo tilted his head, watching you carefully. “Unless you’re into that…” he teased, voice lower now, rougher.

You glared at him, but the effect was lost when he playfully nipped at your jaw. “Freak,” you muttered, shoving at his shoulder. “Come on.”

There was a flicker of something dark in his eyes before he pulled away from you, allowing you to grab his wrist and lead him to your room.

The second the door clicked shut behind you, Wonwoo had you against it almost immediately.

The kiss that followed was hotter and messier. His hands were a lot bolder now, skimming beneath your shirt, fingers tracing over your heated skin like he was trying to memorize every detail. You gasped against his lips when he grabbed the back of your thighs, effortlessly lifting you up until your legs wrapped around his waist again.

“Fuck,” he muttered, guiding you toward your bed. “You’re making this so hard for me.”

You barely had time to process the words before your back met the mattress, Wonwoo hovering above you, his weight deliciously solid between your thighs, hips rutting up slowly—testing the waters. His lips were on you again in an instant, trailing from your jaw down to your neck, lingering at the sensitive spot just beneath your ear.

“You drive me crazy, you know that?” he murmured, voice husky.

Your breath hitched when his hands slipped up, thumbs brushing just beneath the curve of your ribs. You weren’t sure if he meant the teasing, the back-and-forth banter, or just the fact that you were here now, beneath him, letting this happen.

Maybe all of it.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging just enough to make him groan. The sound sent a thrill through your body, heat pooling low in your stomach.

“I guess I could say the same about you,” you managed to whisper in response.

Wonwoo chuckled, his nose brushing against your collarbone before he kissed along the exposed skin, each press of his lips making your pulse stutter.

Minutes blurred together—clothes shifted, touches became more desperate. Heat swirled between the two of you, every movement of his pulling you further into the haze of want.

But just as things started to pick up again, Wonwoo suddenly slowed down.

You blinked up at him, confused. “Wonwoo?”

His fingers skimmed along your arm before stopping at your wrist, his grip gentle but firm. “Are you sure?”

“About?”

“This.” He exhaled sharply, like he was forcing himself to hold back. “I don’t want to rush you, that’s all.”

Your chest tightened at his words.

Despite the heat of the moment, despite how badly you knew he wanted you, he was still thinking about you.

Your fingers trailed up his spine, grounding yourself in the warmth of him. The intensity in his gaze made your stomach flip, but you found yourself nodding. “Please.”

A flicker of something—relief, maybe—crossed his expression before he kissed you again, slower this time, softer.

He pulled away again, but before you could complain, he was already tugging at your sweats and underwear.

You helped him slide them off by moving your hips upward, anxiously waiting for his next move.

Wonwoo sat up, throwing your clothing to the ground. Feeling overly exposed, you tugged at his shirt, wanting him to take it off. Balance it out, you know?

He let out a low chuckle at your insistence but didn’t hesitate to peel his shirt off, tossing it somewhere near your pile. Your fingers instinctively traced over his toned stomach, feeling the heat radiating beneath your touch.

His lips were on you in an instant—starting at your mouth, then trailing down the column of your neck, his breath hot against your skin. He took his time pressing open-mouthed kisses along your collarbone, then lower, his hands mapping out the curves of your body as he went.

Your breath hitched when he reached your stomach, his lips grazing over sensitive skin. His fingers splayed over your waist, holding you in place as he continued downward, his mouth painting a slow, deliberate path. The anticipation was dizzying, every brush of his lips making you ache for more.

When he finally settled between your thighs, his gaze flickered up to meet yours—searching, waiting for permission.

You quickly nod, needing him now more than ever.

With your approval, he moved his arms down toward your thighs, his fingers gently pressing into the soft flesh, pulling you closer to him. His breath ghosted over your skin, sending shivers down your spine as he made sure to take his time with you.

He started off slow, pressing fluttering kisses near your cunt, his lips barely brushing the sensitive skin, his touch featherlight. The softness of his kisses was a gentle reminder of the tenderness between you both, teasing as well as coaxing you into the moment.

As the seconds passed, he grew more confident, his mouth finding its rhythm, draggin a long, slow lick up to your clit, the pressure light at first but just enough to make your breath catch. Your body arched instinctively toward him, a soft moan escaping your lips, and you found yourself pulling him closer, urging him on.

Wonwoo’s movements were deliberate and controlled, but there was an undeniable hunger in the way he continued, each kiss, each lick sending waves of pleasure through your body. His tongue circled around you, experimenting, drawing out every inch of pleasure as you melted into the feeling.

You moaned softly, your hands gripping the sheets beneath you as his tongue moved with purpose, the sensation making your hips instinctively buck upward. Each time his mouth pressed against you, your body trembled, and a heat bloomed deep within you.

Wonwoo’s hands tightened around your thighs, holding you steady as his tongue flicked and teased, bringing you closer to the edge. He was deliberate, each movement calculated, but there was a sense of urgency in the way his lips parted against you, the hunger in his eyes evident as he looked up at you, gauging your reactions.

You could feel the tension building inside of you, coiling tight as he slowly dragged his tongue up again, swirling around your clit before sucking it into his mouth with a steady pull. Your breath hitched at the sensation, the pressure mounting, your chest rising and falling with each sharp inhale.

“Wonwoo,” you whispered, your voice shaky. “Please, more.”

His eyes darkened at your plea. He didn’t need another invitation. His hands moved up your body, pulling you closer, urging you to open yourself to him fully.

The way his mouth devoured you, his movements were more urgent now; he was like a drug, leaving you with no control over your reactions. You clutched at his hair, fingers tangling in the strands as he took you higher and higher.

You were on the brink, so close, your body tense with anticipation. With one final flick of his tongue, your hips jerked as you reached the edge, a breathless cry escaping you as you finally shattered, your body shaking as the pleasure overwhelmed you.

He didn’t stop; instead, he slowed down, licking you gently, helping you ride out the waves. His mouth soft and tender as he continued to kiss and soothe you, his hands never leaving your body.

As you came down from your high, your body still tingling, Wonwoo didn’t move away. Instead, he pressed lingering kisses along your inner thighs, his lips warm and teasing as he worked his way back up. The slow drag of his mouth against your skin sent another shiver through you, anticipation curling in your stomach all over again.

“You’re shaking,” he murmured, his voice husky, filled with something smug yet fond. His hands slid up, fingertips ghosting over your waist before settling on your hips. “Didn’t know you could be this sensitive.”

You wanted to fire back with something, but your brain was too mushy to come up with anything, your body still trying to recover from the way he’d completely unraveled you. Instead, you groaned and weakly pushed at his shoulder. “Shut up.”

Wonwoo only chuckled, low and throaty, before he crawled back over you, his weight pressing into you in the best way. His knee slotted between your thighs, his bare chest warm against yours. You barely had a moment to adjust before you felt it—his hard length pressing against your thigh through his sweats.

A smirk tugged at your lips as you shifted slightly, feeling the way he twitched against you. “You’re really worked up, huh?”

Wonwoo’s jaw clenched, his arms bracketing your head as he hovered over you. “What do you think?” His voice was strained, deeper, and it sent a thrill down your spine.

To test him, you shifted your hips ever so slightly, dragging against him. He let out a sharp exhale through his nose, his grip on your waist tightening.

“Yn,” he warned, but there was no real threat behind it—just desperation.

Grinning, you reached up, threading your fingers into his hair. His breath hitched as you gave a small tug, watching the way his eyes fluttered shut for a brief second before snapping open again, darker and hungrier than before.

“You like that?” you mused, your voice teasing.

He didn’t answer, but the way he groaned, pressing his hips down against yours in response, told you enough.

“God,” he muttered, dropping his forehead against yours. “You’re going to kill me.”

You giggled but quickly gasped when he rolled his hips again, this time more deliberately, seeking friction. The warmth of him, the weight, the sheer neediness of it all made your head spin.

His hands found yours, fingers slipping between yours as he pinned them against the mattress. His grip was firm, grounding, like he needed to hold onto you just as much as you needed to hold onto him.

“I should make you pay for teasing me,” he murmured, lips brushing against your cheek before trailing lower, nipping at your jawline.

You hummed, squeezing his hands as he continued to kiss his way down your neck. “I think you’re the one who’s suffering here, not me.”

Wonwoo huffed a soft laugh against your skin. “That so?” His hips rutted against you again, a little more desperate this time, his breath coming out uneven. “Feel that?”

You did. You felt all of him—hot and aching against you, his restraint slipping with each passing second.

“Tell me what you want, Yn,” he rasped, lips brushing against your collarbone.

Your breath hitched, your nails digging into his hands. “I think you already know.”

Wonwoo groaned, his head dropping into the crook of your neck as he rutted against you again, the friction between you both drawing sharp little gasps from you. His hands released yours, only for one to slip under your shirt, fingers toying with your breast as if he was trying to ground himself with it. The other trailed up your thigh, slow and deliberate, before he hooked it around his waist.

You tangled your fingers in his hair again, tugging just enough to make him hiss. He retaliated by rolling his hips down again, sharper this time, making you whimper in response.

“Still want to tease me?” he murmured against your skin.

You bit your lip, barely holding back a whine. “Maybe.”

He scoffed, tightening his grip on your waist as a warning.

Wonwoo shifted again, suddenly sitting back on his heels, dragging you up with him. His arms wrapped around you, pressing you against his chest as he settled you onto his lap.

“Better,” he mumbled, his hands soothing over your bare thighs as he pressed his forehead against yours. “Easier to hear you like this.”

Your cheeks burned, but you couldn’t deny the way your body reacted to his words, the way the need between your legs only grew worse.

His hands slipped under your shirt again, his palms warm against your back, and when he kissed you this time, it was slower, deeper. He let you set the pace, guiding the way your hips moved against his, taking his time with you.

You gasped as his hands roamed, tracing gentle but deliberate patterns along your spine. His kisses grew more languid, as if he wanted to take his time memorizing every inch of you, every shuddering gasp you gave him.

You moved against him again, chasing that intoxicating friction, and he groaned low in his throat, fingers digging into your hips as he guided your movements.

“Just like that,” he murmured, his voice rough, breath warm against your lips. “You feel so good—”

A shiver wracked through you at his words, the heat between you becoming unbearable. You tugged at his hair again, earning a delicious groan from him as his hips stuttered beneath you.

The rhythm between you both turned desperate, more frantic, your hands clinging to each other as the tension coiled tighter and tighter in your stomach. Wonwoo’s forehead dropped against yours, his breaths coming in short, unsteady pants, his grip on you firm as he chased his own high.

“Wonwoo—” his name slipped from your lips, a breathless plea.

“I know,” he rasped, pressing a kiss to your temple, his movements growing more erratic. “I got you, birdy—just let go for me.”

The sound of his voice alone nearly undid you, and when he dipped his hand between you, adding just enough pressure where you needed it most, your body tensed before unraveling completely. A sharp cry left your lips as pleasure crashed over you, your nails biting into his shoulders as you clung to him.

Wonwoo wasn’t far behind. The way you trembled in his arms, the way you moaned his name like it was the only thing you knew—it sent him over the edge, a deep groan rumbling from his chest as he buried his face in your neck, riding out his own high. His grip on you tightened before slowly loosening, his breath shaky as he tried to come down from it.

For a long moment, the only sounds in the room were your ragged breaths. Your bodies were still tangled together, skin damp with sweat.

“I’ll be right back,” Wonwoo whispered, pressing a lingering kiss to your shoulder before slipping out of bed. You watched as he padded out of your room and toward the bathroom.

He returned a few minutes later, looking more at ease now that he had cleaned himself off. Then, without warning, he flopped back onto the mattress, draping himself over you dramatically.

“Wonwoo—” you groaned, squirming as he pressed his weight against you.

“Shhh,” he murmured against your neck. “Just let me have this.”

“You smell like sweat,” you deadpanned, but your hand was already threading through his hair.

You sighed; your body was still jittery from the intensity of everything, but the pressure of his body against yours was grounding. Wonwoo shifted slightly, pulling you close. His hand moved up to cup your face, thumb brushing along your cheek.

“You good?” His voice softened, and for a moment, the teasing tone melted away.

You hummed in response, barely able to keep your eyes open. “Mhm… just a little tired.”

He chuckled softly, his breath tickling your ear. “Me too.”

You shifted, nuzzling closer to him, and he responded by pulling you even tighter against him, his warmth lulling you deeper into sleep.

And as the night stretched on, with his steady heartbeat beneath your ear and his arms wrapped securely around you, you let yourself relax completely—safe in his warmth.

Silence settled between you, the heat from his body lulling you toward sleep. And just before you drifted off, you swore you felt him press the softest kiss against your forehead.

When you woke up the following morning, the other side of your bed was empty.

Your heart dropped at the coldness from it. For a second, a pang of something—disappointment? hurt?—settled in your chest. Was this a mistake?

Before you could even wallow in self-pity, you noticed one of your sticky notes clung to your phone.

Had an early shift today. See you on Sunday :)

And while you were conflicted about last night’s events, you couldn’t help the feeling of relief you felt from the note.

A sigh escaped you as you sank back into the pillows, only to realize that his scent was now embedded in your bed. Great.

Sunday.

You have no idea what to expect when you see him again, but one thing is certain—there is no going back to how things were before, well, not for you at least.

…

Part Four: Coming Soon…

[☻] hiii! i know i already left a note, but i just wanted to shout out @stendy4life for reminding me that people were actually waiting for part 3! also big thanks to @cherry-zip and @facethesunflower (again) for pushing me to finish this part <333

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