>♡ poly!danceracha x 9thmember!femreader, Minho x fem!reader ft. Jisung, Minho x Jisung, Felix x Reader
>♡ genre: smut
sypnosis : you were supposed to be part of a new girlgroup under jype— at least, that's what was promised to you. to your dismay, you end up as a new member in an already forged group consisting of 8 men.
warnings: fluff, hints of already established polyamorous relationship, boyxboy content, minsung, threesome, munch han, cunninlingus, face sitting, dom!minho, switch!han, unprotected sex(wrapitup), creampie... saliva, exhibitionism, kinda perv han(tbh hes js horny), anal, fingering, brief aftercare, felix lowk has feelings, pregnancy scare(not really. just anxiety and precautions), mentions of birth control, cum eating, squirting
word count: 4.4k
didn't proofread much
“Tell him to come out,” Minho breathes by your ear, urging your head backward with a hold of your hair. The grip on your scalp burns despite the gentleness of it. Or maybe it's your entire body being set ablaze. Thoughts mushy from how he is pounding you into the mattress.
His pace slows, giving you the opportunity to recollect yourself. Cock dragging erotically against your walls, feeling every vein of it. “Do it,” he hushes, forcing you to look at the crack at the door, being hit with the scene of a guilty Jisung who walked into something forbidden.
“H-Han,” you mutter, inaudible. “Come out,” you close your eyes, embarrassed from being seen like this but Minho only taps your cheek lightly.
“Give it more conviction. You think he's gonna come if you ask like this? I can barely hear you,” he chuckles, bottoming out to press deeply inside. Releasing a whine from you. He's doing it on purpose.
“Han! Come out, please—,” you call out, throat hoarse but higher. Wishing you had a blanket over you when the door creaks open, the only shield being Minho's body.
His ears and cheeks are rosy, red even. His lips parted as if he wanted to say something. An apology? An explanation? Each of his steps hesitant as he scoots closer to the bed.
“Did you have fun?” Minho asks, conceding. Holding your face up so that Jisung has a greater view of how wrecked you are. “Watching me fuck someone else. Getting horny about it,” he says, pointing at the obscene bulge in Jisung's pants, a wet patch over the fabric of his jeans.
He opens his mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. His hands frozen in air, “Yn— I'm sorry,” he stammers, voice turning into a whimper when he sees the dry tears at your eyes, taking in your disheveled state.
“Jisungie,” Minho trails, picking the boy's attention. “Look at how embarrassed you made her,” he taunts, pressing his face next to yours from behind. “A simple apology won't be enough, hm? She can't even look at you.” He picks his pace back, hips digging you into the bed, forcing your eyes open to meet Jisung's bothered one.
He falls to his knees at the edge of the bed, catching your flailing hands in his. “Sorry,” he repeats, however he's too distracted to truly feel it. His cock throbs, fattening up the more he looks at you up close.
Minho is punishing, chasing after a high, skin bruising yours. Your stomach is pressed against the mattress, heightening your sensitivity. You feel him in your guts, trembling underneath. The idea of getting watched so intently awakens a deep desire from within, your stomach coiling with pleasure. Your approaching orgasm threatens to snap, the ride hitting its peak.
“Shit,” Minho curses, thrusts stuttering due to your clenching. His balls tighten, “Shitshit, gonna cum. Fuck,” he warns, trying to pull away but you let go of Jisung's hand, bringing your arm back to meet Minho's rough grip on sheets. You gush around him, wetting him and the bed.
You shouldn't. Yet, it's too tempting to refuse. Your thoughts are already a tangled mess, all logical thinking flying out of the window.
“Inside–! Minho, inside please,” you beg, lifting your hips back into his, letting him hit your deepest and warmest parts. He whines. Uncertain if that's okay.
Your begging does it, trapping him in you. Desiring all of him. He grabs your shoulders, heaving your body upwards, hands moving to your waist— holding you as close as possible, hips glued to yours; balls deep in. A broken moan leaves him, coming undone inside. Jisung holds back a groan at the sight, hand palming his erection over his jeans.
Minho pants, beads of sweat glistening down his skin. Pulling out at last, his cum oozes down your thighs, mixed with your fluids. Your legs tremble, unable to keep up on your knees. He sits you back, arm wrapped around your stomach, his other hand parting your pussy lips, giving Jisung a display of your arousal. Jisung’s shirt hanging loosely above your tits.
Jisung looks at Minho, his eyes conflicted, “Hyung,” He begs, his fists gripping the edge of the mattress, tangling with the sheets.
Minho hums, not thinking straight either. Blinking to recollect his thoughts. “Go ahead, ask her.”
Jisung gulps, gaze meeting yours hesitantly. You seem blissed out, mouth parted, face hot and hair all over the place. “Yn,” he misereres, desperation written over his expression. “Can I eat you out? Just a taste—”
You nod meekly; he nearly throws himself at you, hurryingly getting down on the bed. Alas, Minho stops him as he’s about to lay your thighs on his shoulder. “Lay on your back.”
Jisung obliges, pushing the pillows aside to make space for him. Minho manhandles you on top of Jisung, your pussy right above his mouth. The motion wakes you up from your drowsiness, eyes widening. “I’m not sure about this,” you object, using your willpower left to not crush his face. You have never sat on someone before, chickening out. “What if I hurt him?”
Minho tilts your chin, having you make eye contact with me as he presses a kiss to your lips. “Don’t worry about him.” he solaces, tapping Jisung’s thigh. Jisung takes heed to the signal, wrapping his arms around your thighs, bringing you down to meet him. Now realising his strength, your protests are paid no mind.
Goosebumps rise on your skin when his tongue makes contact with your thighs, licking what is leaking out of you, pampering his way up your cunt. Minho moves in front of you, undoing Jisung’s zipper. Your mouth dries, vision darting to the tent resting in his pants. You can’t react. Not when Jisung’s tongue meets your arousal with a big slurp, a needy noise comes out from his parted lips, moaning at the taste of you and Minho’s. “Mgh—!”
Your eyes squeeze shut, the warmth of his tongue overstimulating, lapping from your clit to the curve of your ass. His mouth has no filters, whimpering as if he’s the one getting pleasured. He might as well be. Minho has the younger’s pants off, bringing his underwear down to free him. He’s already wetting himself, cock soaked in his own precum when Minho plays his palm over the tip, circling it before wrapping his hand around the base, stroking him.
Jisung’s hips twitch, squirming after the touch, his pants fanning over your heat. His knuckles on your thighs turn white, hinting to leave imprints afterwards. Fuck if you cared. Shit feels so fucking good. Every moan of his vibrating through you, searing hot.
Minho pulls back, leaning over to the drawer. Rummaging through it, bringing out a small bottle. Jisun's cock twitches in anticipation, hearing the cap fly open; Minho pumping down some of the liquid down his fingers.
You gulp when Minho approaches, a smirk plastered on his face, facing right at you before trailing down Jisung's body. His hand spreads Jisung's thighs further. “Lift your hips, baby.”
“Aaahh—!” Jisung moans into you, loudly as Minho takes the opportunity to circle his hole with the lube. Blunt fingertips pressing down before intruding.
“Shit. Relax, Sungie,” Minho coos, his eyes meeting yours. He grabs your wrist that was resting on Jisung's chest, bringing your palm to his cock. “Help him out, jagiya.” his hand wrapped over yours on Jisung's cock, guiding you towards a pace on him, showing you what makes him crumble.
“Just like that, s'good,” he praises, giving you freedom. He inserts a second finger in, spreading Jisung open for him, preparing him to take cock.
The boy underneath whimpers, sticking his tongue out to meet your hole. A breathless sound escapes him when Minho's fingers leave. Cock head replacing the digits, wet from lubing. His eyes meet yours as he pushes in, slow and deliberate. Giving Jisung time to adjust, bottoming out fully before slamming in. You gasp at the action, but it morphs into a broken moan when Jisung pushes you down further, making you sit on his tongue to distract himself from the burn.
His cock jolts, shallowly thrusting into your wrist to meet Minho's pace. It's not long before spurts of cum lands all over your skin, jerking him off the best you can through it.
Minho's pants pick at your ears, a throaty laugh coaxing out of his throat. “You're so— fucking easy, Sungie,” he moans, the other whining apologies inside your cunt, his thumb shakily drawing over your poor clit. “Always cumming so soon.”
Minho takes your hand, wet tongue lapping at the ropes of cum coating your palm. It's so nasty, nasty in a way that has your orgasm approaching. His eyes half lidded, staring right at you while he fucks Jisung. Sharp thrusts having him crying from pleasure, saliva mixed with you dripping down his aching jaw. Not like he was complaining when he's getting dicked down so good with your pussy leaking all over his face.
He takes note of your expression, your lids fighting to stay open, fluttering with every stroke of Jisung's thumb on you. “You gon cum too? Yeah?” Minho rasps, unable to find his voice. You nod keenly and he grins, fisting the front of your shirt to meet your lips. The kiss opened mouth, swallowing each other's needy noises. Messy and desperate, tilting your face to go in deeper, his tongue tangles with yours, noses bumping.
You're riding Jisung's face, his hand on your hip guiding you. Minho's thrusts grow relentless, seeking for his high. He moans, muffled by your lips, his cock twitching inside as he comes down. His vision blurs, the kiss stutters. The sound brings you to the edge, your pussy spasms violently around Jisung, squirting on his face, drowning him in. He gasps, mouth wide open, moaning out. His cock leaks once again, cum painting his stomach white.
There's a silence that blurs in except for your heavy breathings. Struggling to even keep up on your knees, leaning over Minho's support as he holds on your shoulders, urging you off Jisung. “You good?” he asks, concern tinging his face.
You nod, not trusting anything could come out of your throat. You crash on the mattress next to Jisung who is absolutely blissed out, his eyes closed, chest heaving peacefully.
Minho leaves for the bathroom, soaking towels for the both of you. You're left alone with Jisung, turning on your side to see him. He takes in your movement, mirroring you till you are laid face to face.
His pupils are hazy, staring at you in a daze. “I'm sorry,” he murmurs, “for stalking.”
You chuckle awkwardly, the reminder bringing blood to your cheeks. “It's okay, it happened to me the other day too.”
His eyes shoot open, a scoff flying past. “For real?!”
You nod and he laughs.
“Who was it?”
You hesitate for a second, thinking over if you could tell him. But judging from what just happened, he also seems tangled in the group's affair. “Hyunjin and Felix,” you peek at the bathroom doorway, making sure no one else can hear you. “And Minho,” you whisper, “On the phone.”
He shakes his head with a smile, rolling on his back, staring at the ceiling. “Ah, those guys. I can't believe them.” he says in between chuckles, glancing back at you. “How bad was it?”
“I couldn't sleep,” you reply, feigning a grimace.
“You guys gossiping?” Minho interrupts and you both shut your mouths, acting like children getting scolded for talking in class. “Share the fun. What were you talking about?”
He quirks a brow when you remain silent, but doesn't intrude much. Instead, focusing on taking care of you, the wet towel wipes away the stains on your body.
Jisung follows suit, ending up helping Minho around with setting the bed back. And before you know it, you're bodies draped over each other, fast asleep.
—
You're back at the dorm, Minho dropped you off this morning. You went to practice, and came back. The apartment is empty upon your arrival.
You've been lazing around for the past hour, absently scrolling on your phone. Ignoring the distinct anxiety growing in your guts. Inside. You asked him to come inside. You bite on your lip, tongue swiping over the dry skin; opening your cycle tracking app just in case.
Your shoulders finally relax as you take in the date. There's no hope for you to get pregnant, you're sure of it. Still, you stand up, grabbing your purse and throwing a jacket on you. Gotta be safe. You tell yourself as you reach for the doorknob when it opens. A flash of blond hair catches your attention first, trailing to his caught off guard expression.
“Yn,” he acknowledges, awkwardly. You nod back at him, cringing at the sudden encounter.
You haven't had any proper conversation since the night you slept together, still blaming yourself for being a complete asshole. Ignoring him, then getting with the other members.
You shut your eyes when he walks past you, taking notice of your stiff limbs at the sight of him. He seems so sad, his lips pressed thin, head hanging low near you. Guilt floods through your nerves, fingers inching to reach for him and apologize already, to tell him that it's not his fault— that he doesn't make you uncomfortable.
“Felix—”
He's by his room when you call out his name, his steps falter as he looks back. A hint of confusion crossing his features.
An exhale goes through your nostrils, staring right at him. “Want to go to the convenience store?”
He smiles.
—
The store is hollow except for the two of you, nobody visiting at these hours. He seems giddy next to you, even though he tries to hide it. His steps light, mouth suppressing a smile, his pupils glancing anywhere but at you. Shining way too brightly for your heart.
It's contagious, your lips perking at his eagerness even through the silence you're sharing.
“What'd you come to get?” he asks, tone shifting higher.
You blink at him, hesitant. “Oh— me?”
He shrugs. You're alone, together. The question stupid.
You scan the aisles, searching for an excuse of an item. Your vision lands on the dessert section, an idea ringing in your head. “Baking… baking items! Ingredients, I mean.”
“Ohhh,” he mouths, tilting his head suspiciously. “You like baking?”
You wince at the question, baking having never really crossed your agenda. “Nooo,” you reply, dragging it. “I wanted to try. You like it, many people like it. Wanted to see what the hype was all about.”
He hums, “What ingredients do you need?”
You squeeze your fist, having no idea what ingredients you supposedly need. “That's— that's why I called for you. You're a professional, it shouldn't be hard to think of basic ingredients to make anything.”
There's a silence that stretches, his lips dropping and you wonder if you said the right thing. If he's skeptical of your reasoning, but he speaks.
“That's why you called,” he repeats, trying to hide the disappointment tugging at his voice. He breathes in, running his teeth over his lip. “For baking.”
You hum with a nod, studying his expression, his tone. “You don’t mind, right? Did I steal your free time?”
“No,” he blurts out, a tinge of desperation edging off his throat when he swallows. “I’ll be glad to help,” he says, even though he had hoped for more. But he’s glad that he’s got to spend some time with you, that you’re welcoming him in your space once again. He had wondered what he did wrong back then. If he touched you the wrong way, showed the wrong emotions— misunderstood that you wanted it too.
He’d lie if he said it didn’t hurt when he heard of the others, how normal you’d act about them when they did the exact same thing.
“Felix?” you tug at his sleeve, interrupting his overthinking thoughts. His wide eyes hit you, and your heart stutters. His freckles are apparent with the low lighting, his lips rosy and welcoming.
He blinks away, rapidly. Being caught in the moment with you, suppressing his shyness with the back of his palm as he faces the other side. “What’d you need help for anyway?” he asks, voice uncharacteristically high-pitched.
You pocket out your phone, improvising as you search for recipes. An uncomfortable silence spreads while he waits for you, stumbling on his heels stiffly.
“Could you… get me the ingredients for cupcakes? Please. I’ll go look for something else in the meantime,” you tell him, giving him your most sincere expression. You need to keep him busy.
He thinks for a second, the list already engraved in his head. Nodding briefly, “Yeah, no problem.”
You bring your hands together, bowing endlessly. “Thank you, thank you. I’ll go then, be right back. Okay?”
He doesn’t get the chance to answer before you’re out of sight, disappearing beyond the neighbouring aisles. Out of his sight, out of his reach. Again. He presses his blunt fingernails to his neck, scratching aimlessly, wondering if he’s being dramatic. Sighing as he finally relents to look for what you need. His feet bring him to the familiar corners of the store.
You wander through the hallways, searching for something specific when a packaging catches your attention. Birth control. You can finally breathe, your shoulders growing slack from the lifted burden when you pick one up, a smile forming at your lips. You rush to the checkout, hoping to make it out before Felix does.
Thankfully, he isn’t anywhere to be seen. The checkout is empty except for the worker slouching down his chair, scrolling on his phone. Unbothered by your arrival, paying you no mind for a few seconds before lazily blinking up. You curse him mentally, praying that he would just hurry.
“You’re quick,” you hear someone say over your shoulder, feeling your bones jump through your skin when you look over to find a curious Felix. His arms are filled with goods and you wonder if a trolley wasn’t an option to him, maybe then you’d make it in time. “What’d you get?” He questions innocently, peeking over your shoulder.
His body only shifts closer when you hug the packaging to your chest, crumpling it in your fist. His warmth spreads across your back, his eagerness seeping through the fibres of your body.
The cashier clears his throat, bringing both of your attention. “Hurry, please.” he says, crisp. Making you question where this urgency was earlier.
Your palm sweats, putting the pills on the counter, trying to hide it with your figure but it’s no use. You know he saw them with how he tenses behind you, his breath faltering briefly.
You swear you hear him mutter a small ’Oh’.
Hoping for the earth to bury you alive.
—
Your steps are loud, the sound of your shoes out of sync against the concrete despite moving at similar paces. As if you’re hurrying to get home and escape to the confinements of your bedroom. There’s nothing to be ashamed of. You’re grown, birth control could mean anything. You remind yourself. However, what you feel is guilt. Not embarrassment. Guilt at the thought of him finding out that you’ve been screwing around. Amusing, isn’t it? You could laugh, it’s not like you guys were anything official, or are. He’s been screwing around with the other members too, so why did you feel so bad?
His words still echo in your ears, the reassurance ghosting over your skin, shivers awakening across your arms and neck. You hold yourself closer, blaming the frigid atmosphere for your reactions. He’s been silent the whole time, different from how chatty he usually is. You miss it. Miss him— if you’re being truthful. He’s a good friend. Every time you run away, your relationship takes a toll, scared to lose him as a person.
He’s so sincere, it makes you vulnerable— exposed. That’s what it was.
You stop in your tracks, inhaling deeply. He follows, feet glued to the concrete.
“Felix,” you mutter, turning around. “I’m sorry.”
He stares at you, dumbfounded. Not expecting you to apologize to him in any way. If anything, he thinks he’s the one who should apologize. You can practically see the gears turning in his head, and you grasp the opportunity to pause them. “I’ve been an asshole. Ignoring you, running away like some coward.”
“You don’t have to—”
“No,” you cut him off, stepping closer in case he dissolves before you, quieting him down before he spurs any nonsense. “It’s my fault, really. You’ve been nothing but good to me.”
His eyes soften, his eyebrows relaxing. He wishes to close the distance, to hug you and let you know that he forgives you with his heart. Alas, you’re in public, despite the empty streets. The risk’s too high. So instead, his grip on the plastic bag tightens, a painfully soft smile hints at his lips. “It’s okay, I couldn’t dream of being mad at you. You needed time. I didn’t want to rush you, or force you to talk to me.”
You smile back, “You should’ve, maybe it’d make me more courageous then. Pulling the answer out of me,” you joke, shrugging. He shakes his head, even though the thought had crossed his mind. He wanted to. But he had chosen to let you decide.
“Maybe,” he repeats.
—
“You’re finally home. Do you know what time it is?” you hear as the door clicks open, brown hair peeking over from the couch. Revealing a well-annoyed Seungmin. He takes in your figure as you step inside, not yet being used to seeing you around the dorm. “You’re here too.”
“Well, she lives here,” Felix replies, strolling his way to the kitchen; settling the bag of ingredients on the counter.
Seungmin grunts, throwing his head back with the purpose of relaxation. "Yeah. I’m aware.”
You don’t know how to take his reaction, having only met him a few times before. Never alone, and god bless you aren’t alone with him. His approach not too welcoming.
“Don’t be rude,” Felix hushes him once he’s back, playfully kicking the back of the couch.
Seungmin has his phone in hand when he turns to Felix, then his eyes scan to you, analyzing as if he's judging your sole existence. You cringe, not liking that.
“I’m not being rude,” he replies, indifference gracing his voice. “I just don’t like when people invade my personal space.”
Felix brings a hand through his hair, fingers skimming through the brown locks. “Go to sleep already,” he tells Seungmin, ruffling up his hair. Seungmin groans but doesn’t move much, basking in the other’s affection. “Go, go, go.” Felix urges, kicking the back of the couch repeatedly.
Seungmin relents at last, stretching as he stands. “Not being silenced. I still don't approve of sharing the dorm.” Seungmin says, even though he did sign up to let you stay with them during your first day in. Well, it was mostly Felix. Seungmin had agreed out of compassion for his roommate.
You watch as he walks his way to his bedroom, the door shutting with a thud. Still taken aback by the situation when Felix nudges you. “Don’t mind him, he’s playing tough. He’s soft, let him get used to you first.” he assures, taking in your gloomy expression. He sighs, grasping your shoulders to plop you down the couch, uncaring about your surprised huff.
He sits with you, and the situation feels too familiar. A sense of deja vu hitting you. Same position, you and him— not too long ago. The evening before… It started. This thing.
The softness of his hand meets yours, his touch lingering before growing firmer when you don’t pull back. His fingers curling around yours. Tilting his head back so that it was resting against the cushions of the couch, dazzlingly staring at you.
You gulp, cheeks growing hotter at the contact, at how he’s fluttering his lashes at you. “What’s wrong—?”
“Nothing,” he replies in a hush, thumb brushing over the back of your hand. “I’m just glad,” he speaks, breathing in intently. “Glad that we’re back on talking terms.”
“Oh,” you reply, lips curling up in a blush. “Why do you always do that?” you complain, looking away. His face is nothing short of innocent, or so he plays it. Naivety crossing his features.
“Do what?” he asks, and your stomach blooms with petals. His tone carries some heat behind it, edging closer every second.
The situation’s way too familiar for your liking, almost re-enacting each part. Having asked you the same that day before devouring you like a starved man.
His face is on your shoulder, nose tickling your neck when he breathes you in. A soft hum escapes his lips, his eyes peacefully closed. “You smell s’good, you know that?”
You giggle when his hair prickles at you, triggering your nerves. He laughs back, light as he gives you space. Now right next to you, “Sorry.” he mumbles, his cheeks tinted red. You swat your hand in the air, shaking your head as you mutter ‘It’s fine.’
Chuckles faltering when he holds on your wrist, bringing your knuckles to his lips. He swallows, unsure of himself for a second. His overthinking flies past when he takes in how cutely you are staring at him, blown out pupils from his sudden action, unaware of how to react whenever he shows you an ounce of sincerity. He gives in, pressing featherlight kisses on your joints to your wrist. Your heart thrums past your ribs, sure that if he got close enough— he’d hear how fast it’s beating.
He whispers your name through the kisses, muffled by the smack of his lips. “Promise not to push me away again. I… I don’t think that I’ll be able to handle it a second time.” He says, his voice crippling with desperation.
So sudden that it pauses the heave of your chest. Uncertain of what to say except for a simple promise of giving in to his plea. “I won’t. I promise,” you reply. Here you are keeping promises as if you were a child, but he is hard to deny. Especially when his eyes holds nothing but bittersweet adoration.
the art of the near touch ( taste of ambrosia ) part three
jacaerys velaryon x fem!reader
summary — you and your brother jacaerys have always shared something stronger than blood. after the announcement of your betrothal, you both find it impossible to resist the temptation you have already given into once before.
content warnings — targcest, way too many pet names, kissing, dirty talk, praise kink, kinda brat/brat tamer dynamic, cunnilingus, very messy ( lots of spit and cum ), reader is so fucking horny all the time, cocky jacaerys velaryon, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, blow jobs, public sex
word count — 4.5k
note — wrote this over the space of 4 hours on my day off and genuinely went insane. enjoy part three 😛
part one part two
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Marriage was something you always knew would define your future.
Despite your mother sitting comfortably on the Iron Throne for the past year after the death of your grandsire, you always knew that you were worth little without a ring on your finger.
A Princess was something to be dressed in silk and ribbons, displayed before the small folk while the Princes sat in on council meetings. Learned to wield swords and ride to battle.
You had never minded much, you never had an affliction for fighting, and you despised the sight of blood. But things had changed now that you were to marry Jacaerys.
You would not only be a princess, you were to be his queen.
The change was slow, no one said anything out right, but bows before you lasted longer. Eyes lingered and lips curved into sugared smiles whenever you glanced their way.
You had also noticed a shift in your dress. Handmaids take longer weaving your hair into intricate braids, dotted with pearls and gems. Your dresses were tighter at the bust, the curves of your breasts spilling over silk and the skirts flared out, highlighting the slope of your waist.
You knew what had been expected of you before, but it felt different now.
Jacaerys had always been destined to wear the crown, it was his birthright. But he had chosen you to be his queen. Of all the girls in the realm, off all the marriage proposals laid before him over the years. He had waited for you.
Now it was your turn to do your part.
The library was always quiet after dusk. You often found yourself the only soul left wandering through the shelves, books piled heavy in your arms.
There had once been a time where you would have abandoned your studies in favour of spending your evening in the skies. Or tucked in your chamber with Jace and Luke, a bottle of Dornish red fizzling through your veins until you were all giggly and loose limbed.
But these days you would tuck yourself into a corner of the library, pouring over history books in hopes that you could inspire half the admiration that those who came before you had.
It was there that Jacaerys found you, only a few weeks after your betrothal had been declared before the court.
He had been glowing since the words left your mothers lips, all sunshine smiles and gentle touches. Nothing of the man he had been that night in his chamber.
He had been pure fire.
Pillaged by his own filthy desires and you had taken everything he had given you.
But that craving had not been settled, if anything, that single taste had set you alight. You found yourself lost in the memories of his touch every night. Nightgown riding high on your hips and fingers tucked between your legs.
You had tried to sneak to his room a few times, but it seems your guards had smartened after too many mornings of your handmaidens finding your bed empty.
So you tried to stay content with lingering eyes and soft kisses in the halls.
“What are you doing in here, my heart?” Jace said, swooping down to press a delicate kiss to your brow. You looked up at him, heart fluttering at the sight of his wind mused hair and the slight flush on his cheeks. “I was hoping to see you in the Dragon Pit.”
“Not tonight, I’m trying to catch up on my reading.” You confessed, gesturing to the piles of books before you. Each one was thick and heavy and speckled with dust. The exact opposite of what you would usually read.
And Jacaerys knew that.
“The History of Valeriya? The Great King Jaehaerys? Aegon the Conqueror?" He read some of the titles aloud, slipping down onto the chair beside you. “Brushing up on your history? I can assure you, mother is not planning to quiz us anytime soon.” He laughed, reaching out and taking your hand in his.
“I know.” You reply primly, “Doesn’t mean I shouldn’t know these things.”
“Of course, sister, I was only jesting.” Jace said, rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand. “I apologise.”
You felt an irrational sense of annoyance at his kind words and gentle touch. As much as you adored how sweet he was, how well he treated you, you longed for the person he had been that night.
A dragon.
A man undone by desire.
“Of course,” You scowled, snatching your hand from his grip and using it to open one of the books. “I’m busy, Jacaerys.”
“I… have I done something to upset you, sister?” Jacaerys asked, you could feel his gaze on your face, but you kept your eyes set on the book in front of you, the words swimming across the page.
“No, you’ve done nothing, Jace. Everything’s fine.” You said, venom dripping from your tongue. You went to stand, only for Jace to grab your arm and hold you in place. His other hand grasping your face, forcing you to look at him.
“Watch your tone, my sweet.” He said, voice dangerously soft.
“Let go of me, Jacaerys.” You hissed, trying to pull away, only for Jace’s grip to tighten. He pinched your cheeks between his thumb and forefinger. Fire dancing behind his eyes.
Warmth swelled in your stomach.
“Tell me why you are acting like such a brat and maybe I’ll let you go, but I don’t think that’s what you want though is it, sister. I think this is exactly what you needed.” He shifted, standing so he could tower over you. Dark hair falling across his face, eyes impossible to read.
“I’m not a brat.” You argued, but the fight was flooding from you.
“Liar.” Jace laughed, “Such a desperate girl, you think I don’t notice the flush on your cheeks. The way you are clenching your thighs together.” Your eyes fell to your lap.
“I…”
“Sh, don’t talk.” He crooned, slowly releasing your face. Running his hand down your cheeks, across your lips and down the side of your neck. “Is my girl feeling needy, your pretty cunt empty?” A gasp rose in your throat.
“Sh, sweet girl. I should have known not to give in all those weeks ago, it’s made you greedy. Desperate for pleasure.” His hand continued to glide down your chest, across your breast and towards your stomach. “Tell me, sister, how many nights have you spent with your hand between your thighs, imagining it was me in its place?” He asked with a wicked smirk
You shook your head, biting down on your lip as Jace drifted from your covered belly button to your thighs. Layers of fabric separated you, but you could feel his touch like fire.
“Tell me.” Jacaerys snarled.
“Every night!” You cried, “Every night I have waited, longing for you. I can hardly sleep, you have bewitched my soul. I ache for you, Jace.” You should feel more shameful for how easily you had given in, how quick you were to beg for what you wanted. But you couldn’t, not when Jacaerys was looking at you like that.
“Needy fucking girl.” He scoffed, “Stand up.” You blinked up at him but complied, unsteady as you did so, eyes never leaving him. You were only inches apart now, your breasts brushing against his tunic, hot breath fanning across his neck.
You waited.
Watching.
“Such a good girl when you want to be.” Jace said, shaking his head, “Is this what you wanted sister? To be put in your place? To be reminded who owns you, not just your body, but your pleasure too?” He asked, voice so soft it could be mistaken as sweet nothings by anyone lingering, but to you, it was pure poison seeping into your veins and rendering you tame and pliable.
“All I want is you.” You whispered, and Jace grinned.
“I know, my heart.” He cooed, leaning in and pressing a delicate kiss to your forehead. “Climb up onto the table for me, angel.”
You were dizzy as you turned, backing your body up onto the table and pushing up, arms trembling in anticipation as you landed on the firm wood, legs spread. Jace had followed your movements, twisting so he was facing you. Eyes trailing over the mess he had made you with only a few words.
Your silvery curls were braided prettily away from your face, but the heat beneath your skin had damped the fine hairs framing your face. Lilac eyes were masked by blown pupils.
Your chest heaved in anticipation.
“You are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen, sweet girl.” He said, leaning in and kissing you. He tasted of salt and sky. You tried to draw him deeper, but he pulled away, a small smirk lingering on his plush pink lips.
“Sorry, angel, but I’m looking to taste something else tonight.”
You could only stare as Jace grasped the bottom of your dress, pushing it up until it laid over your hips. Your legs bare to him, he followed with your small clothes. Easily undoing the tie around the front of them and tugging them down so you were exposed to him.
The cold air of the library hit you. A shudder running up your spine as Jace stared at your cunt.
The sound he made was guttural.
“Jace…” You whispered, shifting slightly on the desk, accidentally widening your legs. Beneath the silvery curls you blossomed like a flower. Folds parting and revealing the plush pink flesh of your clit. Arousal pooling in your core and slowly dripping onto your cunt.
“By the Gods…” Jace said, before dropping to his knees.
Your heart stuttered in your chest.
Jacaerys Velaryon, first born of the Queen and heir to the Iron Throne, was on his knees for you.
“Oh!” You spluttered, aghast as Jace looked up at you from between your legs. A future king, kneeling for his queen.
“You were truly made for me, every inch of you made to torture me.” He whispered, brushing his lips along your inner thigh. “So fucking perfect, sister, I can’t believe you are mine. Mine to kiss, to touch, to taste.” He was grinning as he drew closer, hot breath fanning against your clit.
“Beg for it.” He said, lips so close you could practically feel them. “Beg for me to kiss this pretty cunt until you cum. Be a good girl, and tell me what you want.”
You could hardly breathe, Jace’s words were rolling around your head. He wanted to… you didn’t even know this was possible, an act that could bring pleasure, but Jacaerys seemed to know.
You moaned, hot and wanting, hands gripping the edge of the table.
“Come on, my heart, just say the words and I’ll take you apart.”
“Please, Jace, I need you to… to kiss my… my… my cunt.” You breathed out, stumbling over the filthy words, “Need you to make me cum, wanna cum for you, brother. It’s been so long. I need you so bad.” Tears were welling in your water line. Desperation flooding as you fought against the urge to grab his head and push it between your legs and take what you wanted.
“Jace, please.”
Jace moaned as he leaned in, burying his face into your cunt. The feeling was indescribable, while Jace’s cock against your folds had been silken and slick. His mouth was like a live wire, blisteringly hot and you could feel him everywhere.
He didn’t waste time teasing you, instead he fucking devoured you.
Tongue gliding between your lips, lapping at the slick that dripped from your sensitive hole. Prodding his tongue in and sucking, drinking your in like a man starved.
The cries that fell from your lips were hellish, almost screeching as Jace wrapped his lips around your clit and suckled, flicking his tongue over the sensitive bud until you were bucking your hips off of the table.
He pulled back, just barely.
His lips were shiny and flushed. Eyes black.
“Hush, sister.” Jacaerys hummed, kissing your inner thigh, trailing his tongue along the supple flesh. “You don’t want anyone to catch us do you? Perfect little princess with her legs spread for her older brother in the library.” He laughed, giving you no time to think before he was pressing back in.
Jace ate you out like he had something to prove, the slick sounds of your cunt echoing through the room.
“Sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted,” He groaned, the vibrations fluttering up your spine and drawing a sob for your lips. You slapped your hand over your mouth, trying to subdue the desperate sounds that escaped you. “Could stay here for hours.”
His fingers slipped through your heat, slick and sticky as one played with your clit while his tongue lapped at you. Diving deeper into you.
“Jace, Jace, Jace.” You chanted, voice muffled. “Feels so good.”
Jacaerys continued to suckle on your lips, capturing them in his mouth and covering your cunt in long fat licks. You were floating somewhere, brain fuzzy as Jace dragged you deeper into pleasure than you had ever felt.
Every flick of his tongue dragged you closer to the earth shattering relief that you knew was brewing in the depths of your stomach.
So fucking close.
Your hands flew to Jace’s head, fingers twining in his dark curls, pulling him closer or drawing him away you couldn’t quite tell. But you knew he liked it, the heavy groans that escaped him with each tug had you hurtling closer to that all eclipsing feeling that was beginning to tingle in the tips of your toes.
“Jace!” You all but screamed as he wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked, fingers teasing at your entrance. You knew you should have kept your mouth covered, but your entire body was numb. You couldn’t do anything but lay there and take it. “I’m so… I’m gonna…”
“You gonna cum, sweet girl?” Jace asked, releasing your clit with a sharp pop, “Come on, angel, soak my face.”
It was so fucking messy, slick and saliva dripping down your thighs.
Your high caught you off guard, with just one well timed thrust of Jace’s finger just breaching your entrance along with a harsh suck on your clit, you were sent soaring.
White scorched your vision, and for a moment you were free falling. When you came to, Jace was still there. Lapping up your release, with frantic strokes of his tongue.
“Jace!” You sobbed, tears spilling down your cheeks, soaking your face as you tried to drag Jacaerys away from you, but he pushed your hands away. Grabbing your thighs and dragging you closer.
You couldn’t squirm away, all you could do was cry and beg and whimper as Jace gave you what you had begged for.
“Jacaerys, please, it’s too much.” You whined, but he only laughed.
“You can take it, sweet girl. Just give me one more.” He murmured, pussy drunk as he lapped at your sodden folds, his finger now embedded in your spongy walls, twisting and curling against the spot hidden just past your entrance that had your core tightening with each stroke.
“Taste like fucking ambrosia.” He said, as you collapsed down onto the table, unable to hold yourself up as Jace pushed you into another orgasm. Overstimulation rippled up your spine as he thrust his fingers into you and suckled on your clit.
Your eyes were squeezed shut as you rode the last of your high, body going completely lax. You only opened them again when you felt Jace dragging himself over your body.
His face was a mess of slick and sweat and spit, but you didn’t care as he drew you into a dirty kiss. You could taste yourself on his tongue, salt and spice, intoxicating as you licked into his mouth.
“You did so good, angel. So perfect for me.” Jacaerys said once you parted.
“I missed you.” You said, looking up at him with big doe eyes and he melted.
“I’m sorry, sister. I have missed you too, do not think I do not want you as desperately as you do. If I had it my way, you would spend every day in my chambers, bare and open for me.” He said, pressing a kiss to your sweaty forehead.
“Maybe when we are wed.” You grinned, and Jace chuckled, shaking his head.
“Come, my heart, we should get you cleaned up. Preferably before someone comes in here and catches us like this.” You giggled but complied, allowing Jace to haul you to your feet.
None of the guards said anything as Jace brought you into his chambers, allowing you to spend the night in your betrothed's arms. Happy, warm and sated.
.・。.・゜✭・.
The following few days you found yourself thinking of that night in the library with Jacaerys often.
The morning after you had awoken in his bed, his head buried back between your legs. He had kissed and sucked at your clit until you had come twice in his mouth and then shuffled up the bed, grinding his hard cock against your thigh until he too reached his peak.
You had been practically dizzy at the intimacy, the way it felt to wake up beside him, but you couldn’t help but shake the feeling of wanting to know more.
Jacaerys had the privilege of being a man, of learning what sexual pleasure is, what it can mean, while you were wandering blind. Somewhere between fantasy and longing you were beginning to understand what was possible.
And now you have set your sights on something.
Jace had pleasured you with his mouth, tearing you apart with a few flicks of his tongue, so, you could only assume that you could do the same to him. Only the task seemed a lot more daunting.
You hadn’t seen Jace’s cock since that first night, but you did remember it was long and thick and hard. Was it possible to fit that in your mouth? If you did, what would you do with it? Suck it? Lick it? Would it hurt?
But, the longer you thought about it, the more you found yourself intrigued by the idea. Your thighs clenching as you pictured dropping to your knees before Jace, mouth open and waiting for his cock.
You began to prepare yourself, laying in bed at night you would press your fingers in your mouth. Pushing as far as they could go, you would gag and splutter, tears running down your cheeks as you began to thrust them in and out as Jace had done to your cunt, and soon you could take them. But you knew that they were far from the formidable length of Jace’s cock.
You cornered him late one night, you had both been in the Dragonpit, soaring through the sky together on Vermax and Silverwing, laughing as the evening breeze hit your faces. Once inside Jace had taken your hand, you had walked through the Red Keep, passing the gardens when you grabbed Jace’s hand and pulled.
Dragging him into the twilight stained grounds, finger pressed to your lips.
The guards had informed your mother of yours and Jacaerys late night endeavors, leading to a very serious conversation with her about your actions. If anyone were to find out about it outside of the few trusted staff, you would be ruined, with or without your betrothal to Jace, people would remember you as less. As a girl with loose morals and raised skirts.
But, you were your mothers daughter after all.
Jace had followed you without question until you were both tucked into a corner in the garden unseen by the rest of the Keep, surrounded by bushes. It was your own personal haven.
“My heart…” Jace didn’t get to finish speaking before you pounced. Slotting your lips with his and kissing him breathless.
His arms laced around your hips, holding you against him, while your hands encircled his neck. Keeping him in place so that you could kiss him as you pleased.
It was a little sloppy, your movements erratic as you tried to drink all of him in. Your tongues messily meet in slick strokes, spit dripping down your chins. But you loved it.
You wanted Jace to make you filthy. To ruin every inch of you. Soak you in his sweat, spit, cum and blood until your entire body was no longer your own. Until you couldn’t move without thinking of him.
You sank to your knees unceremoniously. The plush grass tickling your legs as you looked up through your lashes at Jace, raising your arms to unfasted his trousers.
He gasped, eyes blowing wide.
“Angel, what are you doing?” He said, trying to push your hands away but you batted him away. Tugging the buttons open and drawing his trousers down. His cock was already half hard, curving towards his stomach. Your mouth watered at the sight.
“Seven Hells.” He spluttered, “Sweet girl, are you… how do you… fuck.”
You grinned, pleased that you had rendered him speechless.
“I wanna taste you, Jace, like you do for me.” You said, grasping his length in your hand, it was warm and pulsing. You could hardly fit your hand around it. Jace almost doubled over at the touch, eyes fluttering and hands twitching.
“You wanna suck my dick, pretty?” He asked, voice all breath.
“So bad, I've been thinking about it for days.” You whined, “Wanna make you feel good, Jace. Can I?”
“Fuck, you are insane you know that, right?” Jace asked, grabbing the end of your braid and wrapping it around his fist, he pulled your head closer to his cock. It was now nearly fully hard, flushed red and dripping with a milky stream of precum.
“You think you can take it, angel? Your little virgin throat is probably gonna make you choke on it.” He said, but you nodded eagerly.
“I can take it, brother,” You said, leaning in and giving the head a delicate lick. Precum smeared across your tongue. It was slightly salty but it wasn’t off putting so you opened your mouth, wrapping it around just the tip and suckling.
Jace hissed, hips bucking slightly.
You didn’t really know what to do, so you sucked in a deep breath and ducked further. Lips stretching around the girth of him. You bobbed your head once, then twice, his cockhead tickling against the back of your throat.
Your jaw felt funny, and your eyes were already watering. You cast a glance up at Jace who was staring down at you. His eyes black and jaw clenched.
He looked beautiful, rosy pink twilight softening his features. It was almost romantic the way he looked while you were on your knees suckling on his cock.
“Am I doing it right?” You asked, pulling off of him. Spit dribbling down your chin.
“So good, sweet girl.” Jace cooed, stroking your cheek, “So pretty kneeling for me, like a fucking vision.” You preened at his words, running your hand up and down his shaft. It was soft and velvety, your hand gliding with ease, helped by the lubrication of your spit.
“Tell me how you like it,” You said, licking at the tip. “I wanna make you cum.”
“You want me to show you how to do it, sweet girl?” He asked, running his thumb over your bottom lip.
“Yes, please.” You said, opening your mouth and sticking out your tongue.
Jacaerys groaned, cock weeping as he tugged you back to him. Feeding his cock into your greedy mouth.
“I’m gonna fuck your mouth, pretty.” He murmured, “I want you to wrap your lips around me like before,” You followed his instructions, “Good girl, that's perfect. Now, I want you to breathe through your nose, okay. If it gets too much, tap my thigh.” You nodded, lips suctioned around his cock and Jace grinned, always so endeared by you.
He slowly began to thrust into your mouth, small shallow thrusts that slowly nudged the tip of his cock against the back of your throat.
You gagged slightly, gasping around his cock.
“Good girl, you got it.” Jace cooed, gentle as he slid his cock deeper into your throat.
He was heavy on your tongue, the salty tang intoxicating. Your lips were stinging, but you loved this. Loved how warm you felt with Jace buried in your esophagus, precum dripping into your waiting mouth.
“Feels so good,” Jace moaned. “Love your mouth, angel.”
He began to thrust faster, sinking deeper and deeper. You remembered to breathe through your nose, the wet sticky sounds of his cock hitting the back of your throat echoing through the garden, followed by the occasional gag as you took him further.
You were almost at the hilt when Jace pulled back. Spit and come dripping from your mouth, tears flowing down your cheeks.
“I’m gonna cum soon, pretty, do you want me to pull out or…” He didn’t need to finish talking before you were shaking your head.
“No! Cum in my mouth, Jace, please. I need you to come in my mouth.” You begged before taking him back into your mouth, bobbing your head enthusiastically until Jace began to guide you once again.
You scalp ached deliciously, the repetitive push and pull of his hands in your silvery hair.
“My desperate girl. How did I get so lucky with you, angel?” He asked, quickening his thrusts.
You gagged loudly, coughing and spluttering around his cock. Pulling back for only a second before pushing back in. It wasn’t long before Jace’s hips started to stutter, his thrusts becoming shallower. You could listen to the breathy moans falling from his lips forever.
“I’m gonna cum, angel, fuck, fuck, fuck.” He gasped, you suctioned your lips around his tip, swallowing his release as it flooded in your mouth. It was warm and salty and a little heady. Thick hot spurts coating the back of your throat as you tried to swallow all of it.
Jace above you was gasping, you wished you could have watched him as he came. But you were too focused on taking all he was giving you, pulling back only when your throat began to constrict.
“That was…” Jacaerys cheeks were flushed, “You did such a good job, angel. Took it so well.” He praised, leaning down and lifting you from your armpits so you were back on your feet. Your legs felt numb, pins and needles shooting up your calves but you smiled anyway. Face still covered in spit and cum.
“Most noble ladies would never imagine doing something like that,” He laughed, “You really are something else, my love.”
“I cannot wait until we are wed.” You said as Jace did his breeches up.
“It will be the greatest day of my life.” He agreed, using his sleeve to wipe your chin.
“Now come on, my heart, let's get you to bed.” You nodded, giggling when he swept you into his arms and carried you into the castle.
You may have been worried about what it meant to be Queen, but being Jace’s wife was something you would choose in every lifetime.
──────────────────────
this probably isn’t well edited but it’s 2am and i’m tired. also i know the blowjob sucked but i hate them so idc 😛
a/n : lee know fuck me lee know fuck me lee know fuck me
your hands tried to grip onto the smooth wall behind you, looking for anything to help stabilize yourself from your shaking legs. lee know paid no mind to you falling apart around his mouth and instead just looked up at you through his long lashes as he stopped his attacking on your sensitive clit.
“behave yourself baby, or i’ll just stop.” his voice had no room to fight it and you swallowed thickly, trying to collect yourself but his hot breath fanning your poor cunt was making it hard.
you whimpered but bit your lip to try and silence your moans, nodding down to your boyfriend, “ok, ok…please i need you.”
“i know baby.” his mouth attached back on your pussy. lee know was sloppy with it, strings of spit and your arousal stuck to his face when he would pull away from your cunt to catch his breath. the wet noises were absurd, but they made you even wetter, dripping down his face as his tongue flicked at your clit repeatedly.
he gripped onto your thighs, leaving behind bruises from how hard he was holding you in place, trails of your arousal dripped down your legs, creating a mess. his whole mouth covered your pussy, switching between sucking and moaning on your clit, the vibration making your brain fuzzy, and tongue fucking your needy hole. his tongue knew every inch of you, knew just how to flick it to make you shake and how to edge you to the point of tears.
lee know wasn’t being quiet either, no matter how much he denied it, he was being just as loud as you were. his moans he wasn’t even conscious he was making, the wet slurping and sucking sounds as he licked every part of your cunt. you couldn’t control your hips and couldn’t stop yourself when you started to buck your hips into his mouth, grinding on his tongue.
lee know growled into your cunny, “behave baby, control yourself.” he mumbled against your skin.
you just whimpered and shook your head, “can’t! need you, please i’m so close!”
he just sighed, pulling away from your sweet pussy and dragging his fingers between your folds, coating them in your arousal before prodding them against your hole, easily slipping in two fingers into your sopping cunt. you cried out, head thrown back as your eyes fluttered shut. lee know curled his fingers up, rubbing against that sweet spot he knew so well, making your legs shake even more.
“so needy…” he mumbled under his breath before latching his mouth back onto your cunt, his attacks never slowing, instead they were intensified and you felt yourself getting closer and closer.
the coil in your tummy tightened and you couldn’t even get words out to alert lee know you were about to cum, your hands just shot down to grip at his hair, pulling him into your heat even closer as you came on his tongue and fingers. your body twitched and you still aren’t sure how your legs didn’t give out on you as lee know didn’t stop finger fucking you. your cum leaked down his fingers, dripping down his forearms and yet he never stopped, the overstimulation brought tears to your eyes and your grip on his hair tightened. pathetic little cries left your lips as lee know pulled away, but not before landing a small slap on your soaked and sensitive pussy.
Contains: hurt feelings, accidental misunderstandings, lots of comfort, cuddles, apologies, fluff, and happy endings. <3
hyung line | maknae line
Jisung₊˚⊹ᰔ
Han had always been a bit of an open book.
If a thought popped into his head, there was about a 90% chance it'd come out of his mouth before he had time to think twice.
Most of the time, it was one of the things you loved most about him.
Today...
Not so much.
The two of you had gone out with the rest of the members to grab dinner after practice. The restaurant was lively, filled with laughter as everyone joked around while waiting for their food.
You'd been telling a story about something that happened in one of your college classes.
"...And then I accidentally called my professor 'Mom' instead of 'Professor Kim,'" you laughed, hiding your face.
The table erupted with laughter.
"Oh my God," Changbin wheezed.
Han laughed the hardest.
"I still can't believe you did that!"
"I wanted to disappear," you groaned.
The conversation moved on.
Or so you thought.
About twenty minutes later, Jeongin accidentally spilled his drink.
Without thinking, Han pointed across the table.
"Well, at least you didn't call the waiter 'Dad' like somebody called their professor 'Mom.'"
The table burst into laughter again.
You forced a smile.
"...Yeah."
Han kept laughing, not noticing how quiet you'd become.
A few minutes later, dinner ended.
Everyone said their goodbyes before heading to their cars.
The drive home was...
Quiet.
Too quiet.
Han glanced over from the driver's seat.
"You okay?"
"I'm fine."
"...You sure?"
You nodded without looking at him.
"...Mhm."
Something didn't feel right.
Normally, after hanging out with the members, you'd both be talking nonstop.
Tonight...
Nothing.
Han pulled into the parking lot of your apartment and put the car in park.
The silence lingered.
"...Baby?"
You finally let out a shaky sigh.
"I know you didn't mean to..."
His eyebrows furrowed.
"...Mean what?"
"When you brought up the professor thing again."
He blinked.
"I just..."
Your voice cracked.
"...I was already embarrassed the first time."
"I laughed because everyone else did."
"But when you brought it up again..."
You looked down at your hands.
"...I just felt stupid."
Han stared at you.
His heart dropped.
"Oh..."
The realization hit him all at once.
He wasn't trying to make fun of you.
He'd just thought it was another funny joke.
But he'd forgotten that you were the one who had lived through the embarrassing moment.
"I'm..."
He swallowed.
"I'm so sorry."
You quickly shook your head.
"I know you didn't mean it."
"But it still hurt."
Han reached over, taking your hand carefully.
"I really wasn't laughing at you."
"I was laughing because..."
He sighed, frustrated with himself.
"...Because I wasn't thinking."
You felt the first tear roll down your cheek.
"I know."
Han immediately unbuckled his seatbelt.
"Hey..."
His voice had become barely above a whisper.
"Come here."
You leaned across the center console, and he wrapped both arms around you as best he could.
"I'm really sorry."
He rested his chin lightly against the top of your head.
"I got carried away trying to make everyone laugh."
"...And I embarrassed the person I care about most."
You buried your face against his shoulder.
"I should've realized you were uncomfortable."
He gently rubbed your back.
"I'll think before I talk next time."
A small laugh escaped you through your tears.
"You say that every time."
"...Yeah."
He smiled sheepishly.
"I know."
"But I'm gonna keep trying."
You looked up at him.
"You promise?"
He nodded without hesitation.
"I promise."
Then he gently bumped his forehead against yours.
"...Can I make it up to you?"
You smiled.
"Only if you buy me ice cream."
Han gasped dramatically.
"So... I'm forgiven?"
"...You're still buying the ice cream."
He laughed in relief.
"Deal."
Felix₊˚⊹ᰔ
The smell of melted butter and vanilla filled the kitchen as soft music played quietly in the background.
Today had been Felix's idea.
"Let's bake something together!"
He'd said it with that bright smile of his, already pulling ingredients out of the pantry before you could even answer.
Now the two of you stood side by side, laughing as flour somehow managed to end up on both of your shirts.
"I swear you're doing that on purpose," you giggled after Felix lightly tapped a flour-covered finger against your nose.
"I have no idea what you're talking about," he grinned innocently.
"Liar."
After mixing everything together, Felix slid the bowl toward you.
"Okay, your turn. Add the sugar."
You nodded confidently before reaching into the pantry.
A few moments later, the batter was poured into the pan and placed into the oven.
"So..."
Felix leaned against the counter.
"Wanna guess how good they're gonna be?"
"They're gonna be amazing."
"That's because we're making them together."
You couldn't help but smile.
About thirty minutes later, the timer went off.
Felix eagerly pulled the brownies out of the oven.
"They smell so good!"
After letting them cool, he cut two pieces and handed one to you.
"Cheers!"
You both took a bite.
...
Felix's smile slowly disappeared.
He looked at the brownie.
Then at you.
Then back at the brownie.
"...Oh no."
You blinked.
"What?"
He took another tiny bite just to make sure.
"...They're ruined."
Your heart sank.
"What...?"
You grabbed the measuring cups sitting beside the sink.
Your eyes landed on the container you'd used earlier.
Salt.
Not sugar.
Your stomach dropped.
"Oh..."
"I'm so sorry, Lix."
Felix was still staring at the brownies.
"We're gonna have to make another batch..."
His words weren't harsh.
They were simply disappointed.
But they were enough.
You looked down at the ruined brownies, guilt quickly settling in your chest.
"I ruined them..."
Only then did Felix finally look at you.
Your voice had gotten much quieter.
Your eyes were beginning to water.
His own widened.
"...Angel?"
You quickly turned away.
"I'm sorry."
"I wasn't paying attention."
Felix immediately set his brownie down.
"No..."
He walked over without another thought.
"No, no..."
He gently took your hands into his.
"Look at me."
You slowly did.
The moment he saw the tears threatening to fall, his heart shattered.
"Oh, angel..."
"I wasn't upset with you."
"I promise."
A tear rolled down your cheek.
"But I messed up your recipe..."
Felix looked over at the pan sitting on the counter.
Without hesitation...
He picked it up.
Walked to the trash.
And threw the entire batch away.
You stared at him.
He turned back with the softest smile.
"I can always make another batch..."
He stepped closer, gently cupping your cheeks.
"...But I can't stand seeing you cry."
The words made even more tears spill over.
Felix chuckled softly before wiping them away with his thumbs.
"I don't care about the brownies anymore."
"I care about you."
He leaned forward, resting his forehead against yours.
"You baking with me is my favorite part anyway."
A tiny smile finally appeared on your face.
"Really?"
"Really."
He grinned.
"Besides..."
He glanced toward the pantry.
"Now we have an excuse to make another batch."
He bumped your shoulder playfully.
"And this time..."
He dramatically held up two containers.
"I'm labeling the sugar."
A laugh escaped you.
"There it is!" Felix beamed.
"I've been trying to get that smile back."
You rolled your eyes affectionately before wrapping your arms around his waist.
He hugged you right back, holding you close.
"The brownies may not have turned out perfect..."
He kissed the top of your head.
"...But today still did."
Seungmin₊˚⊹ᰔ
The apartment was unusually quiet.
Soft afternoon sunlight spilled through the windows as Seungmin sat comfortably on the couch, one leg crossed over the other while flipping through the pages of a book. Every now and then, he'd quietly chuckle to himself before turning another page.
You, on the other hand...
...were incredibly bored.
With a grin, you quietly walked over before dramatically flopping down beside him, letting your head fall onto his shoulder.
He didn't even look up.
"...You're heavy."
You gasped dramatically.
"I'm literally not."
"Mhm."
He turned another page.
"I don't believe you."
You pouted before sitting up.
"You're so mean."
"I'm realistic."
You rolled your eyes with a smile.
Typical Seungmin.
A few moments later, you poked his cheek.
He ignored you.
You poked him again.
"..."
Again.
Finally, he sighed.
"Can you sit still for five minutes?"
"I'm trying to spend time with my boyfriend."
"We are spending time together."
"You've looked at your book more than you've looked at me."
"That's because my book isn't poking me every thirty seconds."
A laugh escaped you.
He was impossible.
You scooted even closer until your shoulder was pressed against his.
Without saying anything, you rested your head against him again.
He sighed dramatically.
"...Personal space."
"You love me."
"...Debatable."
You smiled anyway.
After a few moments of comfortable silence, you quietly looked up at him.
"...Can we cuddle?"
Without thinking...
Without even looking up from his book...
He answered.
"...Not right now."
...
The words weren't harsh.
They were absentminded.
But they still hurt.
"...Oh."
You nodded to yourself.
"Okay."
You stood up.
"I'll leave you alone."
"Hm."
He absentmindedly hummed in response, still reading.
You quietly walked into the bedroom, gently closing the door behind you.
Seungmin smiled to himself.
Finally.
Peace and quiet.
He turned another page.
...
Another.
...
And another.
Eventually...
He frowned.
It was...
Too quiet.
Normally by now you'd have come back to bother him again.
He lowered his book.
"...?"
He glanced toward the hallway.
Nothing.
He sighed before standing up.
"Y/n?"
No answer.
He slowly opened the bedroom door.
You were curled up beneath the blanket, facing away from him.
At first, he thought you had fallen asleep.
Then...
He noticed your shoulders trembling ever so slightly.
His expression immediately softened.
"...Puppy?"
Still no response.
He quietly walked over before sitting on the edge of the bed.
"Hey."
You quickly wiped at your face.
"I'm fine."
"You've said two words."
"..."
"I know you're not."
He gently placed a hand on your shoulder.
When you finally turned toward him...
Your eyes were red.
His heart sank.
"...You were crying?"
You looked away again.
"I didn't mean to..."
He frowned.
"Mean to what?"
You sniffled quietly.
"I know you wanted to relax."
"I just..."
"...wanted to spend time with you."
His expression slowly fell.
"But when you said..."
You swallowed.
"...'Not right now'..."
"It felt like..."
"...you just didn't want me around."
Silence filled the room.
Seungmin closed his eyes for a brief second.
"...I really suck at saying what I mean."
You looked at him.
He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.
"I wasn't tired of you."
He finally met your eyes.
"I was tired."
"...There's a difference."
The sincerity in his voice caught you off guard.
"I just wanted to finish one chapter before giving you my attention."
He let out a quiet sigh.
"But instead..."
"...I made you think you were bothering me."
You quickly shook your head.
"I know you didn't mean it..."
"But it still hurt."
"I know."
His voice was barely above a whisper.
"And I'm sorry."
Another quiet moment passed before he spoke again.
"If I didn't want you around..."
He looked away, ears beginning to turn pink.
"...I wouldn't spend every day looking forward to coming home to you."
You blinked.
"...Really?"
He cleared his throat awkwardly.
"...Obviously."
"I just..."
"...have a funny way of showing it sometimes."
A tiny smile finally tugged at your lips.
He noticed immediately.
"...Come here."
You scooted closer.
Without another word, he wrapped one arm around your shoulders, pulling you against his side.
"Better?"
You nodded against him.
"...Mhm."
"...Good."
He rested his chin lightly on top of your head, absentmindedly rubbing your arm.
The room fell quiet again.
This time...
It was comfortable.
Later that evening, the two of you sat on the couch watching a movie.
Without saying a word, Seungmin slowly scooted closer.
Then...
A little closer.
Until your shoulders were touching.
You smiled to yourself.
"You know..."
"For someone who said they didn't want to cuddle..."
He didn't even look away from the TV.
"I never said that."
You laughed.
"You literally did."
"..."
"...That sounds made up."
You laughed even harder.
A few seconds later...
You felt his fingers quietly intertwine with yours.
Still staring at the TV, he mumbled,
"...Don't make a big deal out of it."
You squeezed his hand.
"I wasn't going to."
"...Good."
He was silent for another moment before quietly adding,
"...Besides..."
"I like you here."
Your heart melted.
You leaned your head against his shoulder once again.
This time...
He didn't complain.
Instead, he leaned his head gently against yours, pretending not to notice the smile spreading across your face.
Jeongin₊˚⊹ᰔ
For the past week, you'd been looking forward to today.
A proper date.
No schedules.
No interruptions.
Just you and Jeongin.
You had even gone out and bought a new outfit a few days ago, excited to surprise him.
As you stood in front of the mirror, giving yourself one last look, your phone buzzed.
🦊 Innie ❤️
You smiled before answering.
"Hi!"
"Hey."
You could hear chatter in the background.
"The guys just finished practice."
"Oh? Already?"
"Mhm."
There was a brief pause before his phone buzzed.
You heard him laugh.
"What is it?" you asked.
"Changbin just texted the group chat. Everyone wants to go bowling."
You smiled.
"That sounds fun."
"Yeah."
Another pause.
"So..."
His voice suddenly became more hesitant.
"...Would it be okay if we moved our date to tomorrow instead?"
Your smile faltered for the briefest moment.
"...Oh."
"I know we already planned today..."
"But everyone's free at the same time, and that almost never happens."
You looked down at your outfit.
"...Yeah."
"That's okay."
"Really?"
"Mhm."
"I don't mind."
You forced a small laugh.
"Go have fun."
"You sure?"
"I'm sure."
"Thanks, baby!"
"I'll make it up to you tomorrow!"
"I promise."
The call ended.
The apartment suddenly felt...
Quiet.
You looked at yourself in the mirror one more time.
Then slowly sat down on the edge of your bed.
Still wearing the outfit you'd spent so long picking out.
Meanwhile...
The bowling alley was filled with laughter.
Jeongin was smiling, joking around with the members as they competed against one another.
"I definitely won that round."
"No, you cheated!" Han protested.
"I literally didn't!"
"You definitely did."
The group laughed.
A little while later, Felix grabbed a drink before casually looking over.
"Weren't you supposed to be on a date today?"
...
Jeongin froze.
His smile slowly disappeared.
"..."
Changbin blinked.
"...Wait."
"Weren't you?"
The realization hit him like a truck.
"Oh..."
His heart dropped.
"...Oh no."
He looked down at his phone.
Hours had passed.
Without another word, he grabbed his jacket.
"I have to go."
"Huh?" Han asked.
"I completely forgot..."
He was already halfway to the door.
"I'll explain later!"
About twenty minutes later, Jeongin quietly unlocked the apartment door.
"...Baby?"
No answer.
He walked farther inside.
Then he saw you.
Curled up on the couch.
Still wearing the outfit you'd picked out.
His stomach twisted.
"...You never changed."
You looked up.
"Oh."
"You're home."
You smiled.
It was small.
Forced.
"I hope bowling was fun."
That hurt more than if you'd yelled at him.
He slowly walked over.
"I'm..."
He rubbed the back of his neck.
"...I messed up."
You looked down at your hands.
"I know."
"I don't even have an excuse."
He let out a frustrated sigh.
"I got caught up hanging out with everyone..."
"And I completely forgot."
"I've been looking forward to today all week," you admitted quietly.
"I even bought this outfit because I thought you'd like it."
His eyes immediately drifted to your clothes.
"You look..."
He swallowed.
"...Really beautiful."
Another tear slipped down your cheek.
"I wish you would've seen it sooner."
That sentence completely broke him.
He knelt down in front of you.
"I'm an idiot."
You let out a tiny laugh through your tears.
"Yeah..."
"...You kind of are."
"I know."
"I really am."
He reached for your hand.
"Come on."
You blinked.
"...Where?"
"Our date."
You glanced at the clock.
"Innie..."
"It's almost ten."
"So?"
"The arcade's still open."
You laughed softly.
"It won't be the same."
"Maybe not."
He squeezed your hand.
"But I still want to spend today with you."
He looked at you with complete sincerity.
"Because you were excited..."
"...and I ruined that."
Silence settled between you.
"I can't get today back."
He looked down.
"But if you'll let me..."
"I'd really like to try."
You smiled through your tears.
"...Okay."
His face immediately brightened.
"Really?"
"Really."
Before you could say anything else, he wrapped his arms around you in a tight hug.
"I'm so sorry."
"I promise..."
"I'll never forget our plans again."
You laughed into his shoulder.
"You better not."
"I won't."
"...Probably."
You pulled back just enough to look at him.
"...Probably?"
He grinned sheepishly.
"...Definitely."
You rolled your eyes, laughing.
"There you are."
He smiled.
"That's the laugh I was hoping for."
A few minutes later, the two of you were back in the car, driving to the arcade with your hands intertwined across the center console.
It wasn't the date either of you had planned.
But somehow...
Being together was enough.
a/n: once again, this was sooo fun to write 🥹 thank you so much for all the love and support on the hyung line ver! I seriously wasn't expecting it, I really do appreciate it and I hope you guys enjoy this one just as much! 💗 (sry, i got kinda lazy and didn't space it out the same way as the previous part✌🏻)
Context: You saw how your boyfriend looks in the new comeback photos you decided to express your thoughts on them
Writers corner ݁ ˖Ი𐑼⋆
· · ─ ·ʚɞ· ─ · ·
Hey friends how are you guys today I hope you enjoyed this ngl the comeback photos are so teaaaa they all look so good it’s insane and guyssss comeback season is nearrrrrr can’t wait ok baiiiii💋
✿ Summary: Seungmin is head over heels for you…quite literally.
✿ Pairing: Seungmin x f!reader
✿ Word count: 1.8k
✿ Tags/Warnings: fluff, idol seungmin, established relationship, injured seungmo ouchie, his irl injury is not mentioned in this fic
✿ Author’s note: I keep dropping fics and then disappearing, sorry y’all :( my mental health is at an atl rn, but I want to get back into the things that bring me joy (like writing!) I’ve missed quite a few comments and some asks, but I will try to get to those asap. I hope you all enjoy this lil fluffy fic <3
You never understood the metaphor of ‘melting’ in a relationship until you met Kim Seungmin.
It is no secret to anyone that you have that man wrapped around your finger. Seungmin loved you way before the two of you became official, but only then did his infatuation become that much more apparent.
Once the two of you started dating, Seungmin never bothered once to hide his love for you. Why would he? He finally scored the girl that he had been longing for since the moment Hyunjin introduced you two years ago.
It’s almost become an inside-joke with the boys. The moment you walk into a room, Seungmin zones in on you and only you — he can’t even hear the obnoxious kissing noises the boys are making to tease him. Cartoonishly, his eyes glaze over with adoration — you swear you can see hearts in his eyes if you look close enough. Then, when you place your hand on his, he submits completely: ‘melting’ in ways you only knew to be fictional.
You hadn’t planned to visit Seungmin today. While it was your day off, you knew that your boyfriend had a very packed schedule as he prepared for the new comeback and upcoming performances.
Unfortunately, you couldn’t ignore the nagging voice in your head that practically begged for some Seungmin-time — even if it was simply a passing moment. Ultimately, you decided to do a coffee run for the boys. You’re sure they will appreciate the gesture regardless of the true intent behind your actions.
This is definitely not the first time you have done mini deliveries to mask your desire for time with your boyfriend. Thankfully, this makes ordering so much easier. By now, you practically remembered each member’s order better than your own (Seungmin always made fun of you for being so indecisive).
With nine drinks in tow, you made determined, but cautious, steps toward the practice room. While the drink carrier you had was assisting you tremendously, the last thing that you wanted to do was bump into a wall and watch ₩74,000 hit the floor.
You couldn’t help the small smile that crept upon your face the moment you heard familiar laughter down the hall. While it wasn’t clear exactly what had happened, you’re sure the muffled noises coming from the practice room was a result of Minho scolding another boy for messing up the routine. That was a comedic scene that you had seen one too many times.
Just as you reach the door to the practice room, you hear the backtrack for one of their newer songs start to play. You haven’t had the chance to see any of the new choreography, so you honestly aren’t even sure if it’s okay for you to step inside. However, you figure that it’s worth the risk, knowing that Chan would immediately wrap things up if it were truly confidential.
With practiced skill and full hands, you open the door with your elbow, shimmying your way into the practice room. At first, nobody seems to notice that you have snuck in other than a staff member whom you were familiar with. She gave you a gentle smile and quietly helped you unload the variety of drinks in your hands.
Finally free, you lean against the wall and watch the boys move in sync with one another, their bodies perfectly swaying alongside the rhythm of the track playing in the background. With one move, Felix turns on his heel and notices you hanging out in the corner of the room. As you wave, he politely smiles back. Yet, when his eyes drift from you to the pile of drinks to your right, his smile is immediately replaced with a look of relief.
“You are such a lifesaver, Y/N,” Felix sighs just as he goes to turn once more, never once missing a beat. Immediately, you take note of the way that your boyfriend’s ears perk up.
“Y/N’s here?” Seungmin’s voice is laced with excitement as he twists his body to find you.
Unfortunately for the poor boy, his excitement overpowered his agile coordination. Misplacing one of his steps, Seungmin unsuccessfully ends his twirl by crossing his ankles and ultimately landing flat on his face. A loud smack is heard as his head makes contact with the hardwood flooring. Everyone in the room stops their movements and stares in disbelief.
“Dude, are you okay?” Han crouches down to meet Seungmin on the floor.
When Seungmin only musters a faint grunt in response to Han’s question, you decide to rush over to check in on your clumsy boyfriend. Kneeling in front of Seungmin’s sprawled out figure, you gently run your fingers through his hair; you’re cautious as you aren’t sure how hurt he truly is.
When he feels the familiar sensation of your fingers soothingly scratching his scalp, Seungmin faintly lifts his head. Though his eyebrows are scrunched from pain, his eyes light up the moment they lock onto yours.
“Hi, baby,” Seungmin says through pouty lips. At this moment, he looks identical to a sad puppy, his eyes being the only sign that he is actually ecstatic to see you.
“Are you okay, Min? You took quite the fall there.” Your voice is laced with concern as you move your hand to caress his jaw. When you lift his head to assess the damage, you notice his cheekbone already turning a bright shade of red from the impact. Rather than wincing in pain as your free hand traces the injured part of his face, Seungmin simply melts into your embrace, a small smile adorning his lips as he closes his eyes with content.
“I guess you could say that I am head over heels for you,” Seungmin quips, earning a groan from the other seven boys in the room.
“Did he really—?”
“I can’t believe this mutt.”
“He is demonstrably down bad.”
As the boys are expressing their own disbeliefs to this ridiculous situation, Jeongin steps forward and lightly kicks Seungmin in the butt.
“Yah! You almost took me down with you. Learn to control yourself around your woman,” Jeongin complained, but you could hear the teasing tone in his voice.
Instead of responding, Seungmin simply flips over and lays his head on your thighs. Upon seeing how red his face was, the boys each shared winces and gasps.
“I think that it’s time for a break,” Chan sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Seungmin, you’re going home for the day.”
“Oh no…Boss is putting me in time out,” Seungmin manages to quip, but immediately winces when he tries to look Chan’s way.
“Alright, I am taking you home before you hurt yourself again,” you stifle a laugh at the blissful look on his face.
“Oh, God,” Hyunjin faintly moans in the background, “Thank you so much for the treats Y/N-ah.” Everyone laughs at how Hyunjin is too fascinated by his coffee to be concerned for his member.
“Maybe you can use Seungmin’s americano to soothe that welt growing on his face,” Minho snickers.
“Welt?” There was a tinge of concern in Seungmin’s voice.
“Don’t listen to him, pup,” you comforted him even though you knew that he would eventually have some swelling on his face from the fall.
“That’s it – you’re done. No more pet-names. Skidaddle before I get sick,” Jeongin dramatically shooed the two of you away with a giant frown upon his face.
“The fox is just jealous,” Seungmin said as if Jeongin couldn’t hear him loud and clear.
Rolling your eyes at the comical, offended look on Jeongin’s face, you decide to make a plan to get Seungmin off of the floor so the two of you can head home.
With a little bit of a struggle, and some help from Chan, you two made it home safely. Seungmin was now resting in bed with an icepack pressed against his cheek. You had gone to get him a glass of water when you heard pitiful whines come from the bedroom. Concerned, you rushed in to check on your boyfriend.
“Are you okay, angel?” you ask, setting his water on the nightstand before assessing his face.
“Why did you leave me?” he pouted.
“Is that why you were whining?” you scoffed at the ridiculousness of your needy boyfriend. “I was just getting you some water, goob.”
“Mmm, I don’t need water. I just need you,” Seungmin smirked, reaching out to tug you back in bed.
“Nuh-uh,” you tsked, “Not until you get these painkillers in your system.”
Seungmin pouted but eventually gave in to the princess treatment. Only after you saw him swallow his pills did you crawl back into bed with him. Legs tangled together, Seungmin laid his non-injured cheek on your chest and snuggled closer to your side.
The two of you stayed just like that for about an hour before Seungmin moved again. Sitting up slightly, Min took the now melted ice pack off of his cheek and placed it on the nightstand. His face definitely looked better, but his cheekbones were still slightly pink. You watched as he ran his fingers against the cold, numb parts of his cheek where the ice once was.
“You feeling okay, baby?” you checked on him, pushing the hair away from his forehead.
“Yeah. I am feeling a lot better than earlier; thanks to you,” Seungmin reassured with a smile.
"Really? I was going to offer to kiss it better,” you teased, watching the gears shift in his head.
“Oh — I am actually dying, then.” You burst out laughing at his antics.
“You’re dying?” you rolled your eyes, deciding to play along.
“Mhm,” he nodded before pointing to his lips, “You should start your treatment here, please.”
“What would you ever do without me?” you smirk before leaning in to capture his lips with your own. Seungmin softens into the kiss, slightly pouting when you pull away.
“I’d simply die, Y/N. Speaking of which, it is going to take a lot more where that came from to fully heal me. Unless you want me to wither away," Seungmin dramatically sighed as he placed a hand against his forehead, feigning severe illness.
“You are a fool,” you chuckle at the serious look on his face.
“Maybe, but I am your fool,” Seungmin agrees through puppy-dog eyes and a giant smile.
“How many kisses does this fool need to be healed, exactly?” you joke, loving the way his facade breaks once more at your words.
“I’ll tell you when to stop,” he decides, trying to mask his excitement with a smug face. The moment that your lips met his cheek, that smug expression went away.
As you peppered his face with kisses, one thing was clear: Seungmin was exactly where he wanted to be.
summary: many years after the civil war known as the dance of the dragons, historians and maesters alike began gathering records and accords of the targaryen dynasty in its prime. many records were recovered from all over westeros, including a series of correspondences between the eldest daughter of viserys i targaryen and alicent hightower and jacaerys velaryon.
word count: 5.8k
warnings: house of the dragon spoilers, canon-typical mentions of violence, mentions of character death, battle of the gullet mentioned (deserves its own warning), angst, hurt but little comfort lol
notes: oh jacaerys velaryon doomed lovers trope you are so famous to me. i fell for the firstborn son curse almost ten years ago with robb stark and i still cannot escape it. writing this to cope with s3 ep1 <3
Letters exchanged between the Prince and Princess (Age 6), slipped beneath chamber doors in King’s Landing; 122AC
Jace,
I knocked on your door but you didn’t answer
Do you want to go see the dragons later? Aegon says there are new babies
I have Valyrian lessons before dinner. Put your reply under my door like I did with this one
Y/N
Y/N,
Yes, I do want to see the dragons very much. Mother says the new babies are very small though so we should be careful
Maybe one of the new dragons will be yours!
Meet me after dinner outside your room
I hope your Valyrian lesson goes well!
Jace
Letters exchanged between the Prince and Princess (age 7), slipped beneath chamber doors in King’s Landing; 123AC
JACE
You will never believe what happened- I claimed a dragon!
Father finally agreed to let me visit the unclaimed dragons in the dragonpit. Uncle Daemon came with me
She is so pretty, Jace. Her name is Silverwing- because her wings sparkle like silver! And she is huge!
Please write back as soon as you get this. Your mother said you were at training this afternoon
Y/N
Y/N
Are you serious? You actually claimed a dragon? A full grown one?
That is amazing! Vermax will be happy to have a friend to fly with once he is big enough
I knocked on your door, but the Septa said you were gone back to the dragonpit with Daemon
I'll see you at dinner. I can't wait to hear about Silverwing
Jace
An exchange of letters between the Prince and Princess (age 10) following the movement of Princess Rhaenyra’s household to Dragonstone; 126AC
Jace,
It has been a week since you and your family left for Dragonstone. The castle is quiet, and I spend a lot of time with Helaena now. We went to the Godswood earlier, and I helped her collect new bugs for her collection.
I love my sister, but I miss you. And Luke and Joffrey.
I hope Dragonstone is as beautiful as you hoped it would be, and I hope Vermax loves flying above the castle and over the cliffs.
I was very sorry to hear of the passing of your Aunt Laena. My family will be going to Driftmark soon for the funeral, and father says you will be there too.
I know it has only been a week, but I will be glad to see you. I hope the weight of your loss does not feel too heavy.
Sincerely,
Y/N
P.S: Tell Luke he left one of his wooden dragons here. It was in my chambers. I will return it to him when I see you all at Driftmark
Y/N,
I am glad you wrote. I miss you a lot, Joffrey has already asked about you many times. I had to tell him you had to stay in King’s Landing. I think he understands, but he does miss you- not as much as I do though.
Dragonstone is very beautiful. There are white sand beaches at the bottom of the cliffs, and the horizon stretches for miles. Vermax loves the freedom- im surprised you haven’t heard his happy cries from King’s Landing.
But it is still empty here. I keep waiting to hear your laugh around corners, or to see Silverwing flying over the coast with Vermax.
Aunt Laena’s death was very sad. I did not know her very well, but my mother and father are very upset. I feel sad for Baela and Rhaena- we will have to do something to cheer them up when we all arrive at Driftmark.
I will be glad to see you too. A week has already felt like too long. You make things feel easier.
Sincerely,
Jacaerys
P.S: Luke says he left it with you on purpose. Keep it.
Letters exchanged between the Prince and Princess (age 10) following the death of Ser Laenor Velaryon; 126AC
Jace,
Are you alright?
My family and I received word of Ser Laenor on our trip back to King’s Landing. I wish I had known sooner- I would have begged to stay with you at Driftmark.
I did not know your father well, but he was always kind. He would say hello to me whenever our families met, and when we were little he always called me Princess like some noble knight from fairytales.
I have prayed for you and your brothers and your mother every day since hearing the news. I prayed for your father, too- that he may find rest and peace.
I know that does not make your pain go away, but I wanted you to know.
If there is anything you need from me, say the word. I will fly Silverwing to Dragonstone myself. Father says I’m not old enough to fly her yet, but now that Aemond has stolen Vhagar I’m afraid he can’t hold that argument anymore.
Sending you love,
Y/N
Y/N
I am glad to hear from you. Even just reading your letter has made the grief feel easier.
Losing my father has been difficult, but I’ve had to stay strong- for Luke and Joffrey, and for mother. Luke is beside himself, Joff is still a little too young to understand. Mother grieves in her own way- she’s been quiet, almost distant.
She plans to remarry Daemon now. She claims it will help our family battle the rumours about my brothers and I. I told her I don’t care about the rumours, but she just wants to make things easier for us. What happened at Driftmark has weighed on us all.
Thank you for your prayers. Though I am not sure the gods will hear you, but I appreciate the effort. I too hope that my father finds rest and peace. He is with Aunt Laena now.
As for Silverwing, your father doesn’t have a leg to stand on with that argument. You’ve been ready to fly for years, but there’s no way he can stop you now the Aemond has Vhagar- it wouldn’t be fair.
I miss you, Y/N. I hope our families reunite again soon.
Love,
Jace
Letters exchanged between the Prince and Princess (age 13); 129AC
Jacaerys,
I have wonderful news! I suspect your mother may have received word already, but I wanted to share it with you myself even if you already know.
Father has agreed to let me come to Dragonstone as a ward to your mother! My mother is not happy about it, but I think my father has been attempting to restore peace between our families since that night at Driftmark all those years ago.
He mentioned to me once that Rhaenyra proposed a betrothal between you and I when we were only children, to strengthen the bond between our houses. My mother refused it, but father still thinks about it. He thinks it is a splendid idea, and I suspect it is why he betrothed Aegon to Helaena instead of me.
It would be nice, I think. If we were betrothed.
I have always been worried about being married off to some stuffy old lord in a castle somewhere, but it doesn't seem so bad when the stuffy old lord is you instead. We would be together all the time, and we could fly Vermax and Silverwing together whenever we wanted.
It sounds a bit like a dream.
Anyway, enough about betrothals and dreams. I shall be arriving at Dragonstone by the turn of the next moon. Father says I will only stay for a year, but I suspect I can convince him to let me stay longer.
I shall see you soon. I suspect you will hear Silverwing before you see us- she has been missing you and Vermax immensely, I think.
Love,
Y/N
Y/N
Mother told us about the news, but I am glad to hear it from you. We are all very happy- Luke nearly jumped from his seat, and I think Joffrey may have cried.
But none are so happy as I am. To spend a whole year with you, here on Dragonstone? That is what sounds like a dream. I can't wait to show you everything- the beaches, the cliffs, the Dragonmont.
You will love it here. I know you will. And I know we can convince my grandsire to let you stay longer.
As for betrothals, I agree. I think being betrothed to you would be very nice. My mother speaks about it often- she is quite protective over you. I think she wants to see her sister happy as much as her son, and she doesn't want to see you shipped off to some 'stuffy old lord' like Tyland Lannister.
I know a lot of people marry for alliance or power, but my mother and father still truly loved each other. They were husband and wife, but they were also friends beneath it all. Our house was always happy growing up. I think I would like to have something like that someday.
I think that's what it would feel like if we were married- a partnership rather than a duty. I think we would be very happy.
My mother talks all the time about how I will be King some day after her. The idea terrifies me- having to sit the Iron Throne, rule the Seven Kingdoms. I don't know if I will be much good at it, but as I think about it now it does not seem so daunting a task if you were by my side.
I will be the King someday. And you will be my Queen.
I cannot wait to see you at Dragonstone. Vermax and I will be waiting for you.
Love,
Jace
Letters exchanged between the Prince and Princess (age 15) following the Princess' return to King's Landing; 131AC
My dearest Jace,
It has only been a week since I returned to King's Landing, and already I miss you more than I know how to describe.
I wish my father had not had to call me home from Dragonstone, but alas I suppose we already had more time than he initially gave us.
He has not been feeling himself as of late. I pray it is nothing serious, and that it passes without issue. My mother assures me that all is well, that I have nothing to worry about.
But of course I worry. I always do.
I worry about Father. I worry about Helaena- her marriage to Aegon has been trying, to say the least. The twins, Jaehaerys and Jaehaera, are lovely though- they have grown so much since I left for Dragonstone, and I have been helping take care of them since returning just to have an excuse to see them.
I worry about you too. And Luke, and Joffrey. Not for any reason in particular, I think it is just in my nature to worry about those I love.
I hope things are going well on Dragonstone. If I think hard enough, I can still feel the spray of the sea on my face, the wind in my hair at the edge of the cliffs, and your hand in mine. Your hands are always so much colder than mine.
I hope to see you again soon,
Love,
Your Y/N
My sweet Y/N,
This week without you has felt like a weight on my chest, but receiving this letter has given me some reprieve to breathe again.
I miss you like the moon misses the sun.
I am glad the twins are doing well, and I hope Helaena is too. She is a saint for putting up with Aegon the ways she must.
I am sorry to hear of the King's illness. I'm sure he will recover quickly, as he always has. But of course you will worry, it is how you are.
Empathetic. Kind. Good.
I could continue describing you, but I'm afraid this letter would be too long to send by raven by the time I was finished.
You do not have to worry about me or my brothers, I assure you, sweet girl. Things at Dragonstone are well- peaceful, though your absence is certainly felt. But we are all well, and all safe.
When I visit the cliffs, or the beach, I can still feel your presence in the air. The wind whistles in the distinct tone of your laugh, and the grass seems to bend around feet that are no longer there.
My hands feel colder without yours to warm them.
But we will see each other again soon, I assure you. And I shall be counting the days until then.
Love,
Your Jace
Letters exchanged between the Prince and Princess (age 16); Early 132AC
Jace,
Things are growing troubling in King’s Landing. I find myself fearful for the months ahead.
Father’s illness is progressing fast
There are whispers, here in the Keep. That my grandfather, father’s Hand, wishes to challenge your mother’s claim to the throne when the Stranger comes for him.
This is absurdity, as your mother’s claim has been reinstated by my father many times since Aegon’s birth.
But alas- the idea of a woman in power will always frighten a man, I suppose
I don’t speak much to anyone these days. Helaena is busy with the children, and lord knows Aegon and Aemond are horrible company. My mother spends most of her days by my father’s bedside.
I have spent much time in the Godswood lately. Did you know that many people in the North still pray to the Old Gods? It is different than our prayers to the Seven, but lately I find myself praying to any gods that will listen that peace remains, and that my father does not suffer.
I hope Dragonstone is serving you well. I would love to see you soon, but a part of me hopes I do not- because I fear the next time I see you will be father’s funeral.
These next few months will be trying, but I hold on to my strength as I know you would tell me to if you were here.
I miss you terribly, Jace. I wish you were here.
Love,
Y/N
Y/N,
It pains me to hear of your suffering in the Capitol. I hope Helaena is well- I cannot imagine having to care for children at our age (especially children of Aegon’s.)
I hate that you cannot be here at Dragonstone, with us. The air feels heavier here since you left, the halls quieter without your laugh.
The news of the King has reached us. My mother is not handling it well, and Daemon pretends to but I can tell he is upset about his brother. I am upset too. My grandsire is always kind to my brothers and I, even when others do not think to be.
Your talk of the Old Gods intrigues me. Perhaps the next time I see you, you can teach me how to pray to them. Maybe someday we can fly North, on Vermax and Silverwing, to pray in front of a real weirwood tree if we find the Old Gods kinder than our Seven.
But sometimes I think that not even the Gods can make death feel kinder.
The whispers you have been hearing about your grandsire, the Hand of the King, reek of treason. You have nothing to worry about, sweet girl- your grandsire has made questionable choices in the past, but I suspect even he is not silly enough to move against the King.
I wish I could be there, or you here, but you are also correct- I hope that our next meeting is prolonged so that you have more time with your dear father.
Losing a father is not easy, and I wish you never have to bear the sorrow, my love.
Until we see each other again,
Your Jace
A letter from the Princess to the Prince (age 16); written in haste, unanswered; 132AC
J,
The King is dead. My grandsire and mother move to instate Aegon as King. Your mother’s claim is in danger
Everything is chaos. I’m scared.
I miss my father, and I miss you.
[your initial]
Letters exchanged between the Prince and Princess (age 16) following the coronation of King Aegon II; 132AC
Y/N,
Please tell me you are alright. Your last letter frightened me. I am sorry I could not reply. Dragonstone has been thrust into chaos, and my mother temporarily stopped all communication leaving the castle, until our household had proven its loyalty.
I sent this letter to one of our trusted allies within the Keep in hopes that it will reach you well. If you are able to respond, bring your letter back to him. He will ensure it reaches me safely.
I wish I could be there with you, to hold you through the pain of losing your father. I miss him too. Everyone here does. He was good, and he would hate every second of the violence that has been raised in his passing.
I know that you are alive, because Rhaenys tells me she saw you on the dais at Aegon's coronation, when she escaped on Meleys. I hope you know I do not blame you. The schemes and deceit of your family are not yours, and I have made sure everyone knows it.
Are you safe, in the Keep? I will never ask you to spy on your family, I just need to know that you are safe there. If I have to, I will fly to King's Landing on Vermax myself to rescue you.
I fear this war will try its hardest to drive a wedge between us. I promise you I will not let it happen, my love.
Write back as soon as you can,
Jacaerys
Jacaerys,
I am so relieved to hear from you. I feared you may think me a traitor like the rest of my family. I think I could not bear it if you did.
Helaena and I are safe. I've taken to spending most of my time with her and the children. They are a welcome distraction, a beacon of peace and hope in these troubling times.
I am glad that Rhaenys made it safely to Dragonstone. I was not aware that she was being held here- I think my family distrusts me because they know of my fondness for you.
The pain of losing my father has not quite sunk in yet, I don't think. My grief has been stolen from me by this needless violence. Instead of mourning the man who raised me, I instead have to fear every day for the lives of my sisters and friends.
Please tell Rhaenyra that not everyone in the Keep is against her. My support may not mean much, but I want her to know she has it. If there is anything I can do from this side, I will.
I need no rescuing yet, but I do not doubt for a second that you would come running if I did. You always seem to know when I need you.
I pray this violence ends soon, and that the succession can be restored without further bloodshed, and that you and I can be together again.
I will try to write as often as I can, but in case I am stopped, know that I love you, Jacaerys.
Y/N
Letters exchanged between the Princess and the Prince (age 16) following the death of Prince Lucerys Velaryon (age 14); attached to a wooden dragon figurine; 132AC
Jace,
Oh Jace.
I don’t even know what to say. I’m sorry feels insignificant, but they are the only words I can muster right now.
I have spent the last few days in agony- I cannot imagine how you must be feeling. I wish I was there with you, to give you a shoulder to cry on, a safe place to land.
I attempted to flee King’s Landing on Silverwing the second I heard the news, to fly to Dragonstone to be with you, but my mother guards me night and day. She fears for my safety, but she fails to realize that I would be safer with you than anywhere else in the Seven Kingdoms
This war is needless and cruel, and has gone on too long. I have begged my family to see reason- my brother, my mother, my grandsire. I beg for peace, for this ceaseless bloodshed to end before it takes any more innocent souls with it.
Because that is what Luke was- an innocent soul. He was so good. So kind. Too kind to have been touched by war and cruelty in the ways he was.
I cannot stomach to look at Aemond. I’m not sure I will ever be able to again.
Lucerys loved you so much, Jace. He looked up to you, wanted to be just like you. When we were little, he would always tell me stories about you, and he had a way of making the simplest actions of yours out to be the acts of a noble knight in shining armour.
He was the best of us. I will carry him with me in everything I do, as I know you will.
You do not have to respond to this if it feels too much. I understand. I simply wanted you to know that I am here for you, and that I share in your grief.
I will see you soon, and when I do I will hold you tight until the grief feels an ounce more bearable.
We have already lost too much in this war. I pray we do not lose anything else.
My love is with you always,
Y/N
Y/N
I’m sorry it has taken me so long to reply to your letter. The weeks since the incident have been difficult, and in truth I could not bring myself to read your words until days after the raven arrived.
And yet, in the time it took me to reply, the war has claimed its next casualty.
I have not stopped thinking about you and Helaena since the news of little Jaehaerys arrived. Mother is furious at Daemon, and beside herself that the child was murdered in the name of her cause.
This was not her order. That you have to know.
Give Helaena my love, but mostly I am worried about you. You have suffered so much loss in the small amount of time since this war began.
Losing Lucerys is a pain I don’t think I am ready to talk about yet. I’m unsure if I ever will be, but if such a day comes, I will come to you- like I always do.
I wish you could be here. I wish we could comfort each other through these days of war and bloodshed. I often think about what it would be like, to leave the war room at the end of a day of meetings and sit with you by the hearth.
The thought brings me a sliver of peace and light in these, the darkest days.
If Silverwing wishes to fly, and your mother’s guards fancy a nap, you would always be welcome here at Dragonstone.
Think about it.
In case something were to happen, now that this war has become what it is now, I need you to know that I love you too.
I love you every single day, even when we are apart, my sweet girl.
We will be together again soon.
Your Jace
A letter written from the Princess to the Prince (age 16) following the Battle of the Gullet; tear-stained parchment, unanswered; 132AC
My dearest Jacaerys,
Tell me it isn’t true.
Messengers arrived at the Red Keep saying that the Velaryon fleet battled the Triarchy at the Gullet, and that they were joined by dragonriders. The account says a bronze-scaled dragon sunk into the sea with its rider.
Tell me it isn’t true. Write to me and tell me that you are alive, that it was not Vermax these witnesses watched sink below the waves.
You stupid, stupid boy. You foolish idiot of a man.
This is not how this is supposed to go. Not how it is supposed to end. This war is supposed to end, not rage on and take you with it.
We are supposed to have our second chance. Our families finally no longer feuding, our mothers some semblance of friends again.
We would be betrothed, or we would simply force them to betroth us if they still refused. We would be wed, happy like your mother and father were, like we talked about all those years ago.
We are supposed to have time, Jacaerys. We are supposed to watch this war end, watch your mother take her throne. We are supposed to be here, again, where it all began- running through the gardens like when we were six, only now the weight of the crown weighs a little heavier on us.
You are supposed to be King someday. And I am supposed to be your Queen.
First Father. Then Luke. Now you.
Tell me it isn’t true. Please write back as soon as you can.
Love,
Y/N
A letter written from the Princess (age 16) to the Late Prince from the Red Keep; unsent; Late 132AC
My dearest Jacaerys,
I don’t know why I’m writing this.
Perhaps because I am painfully alone now, and you were the only one it felt like truly understood me.
So much has happened since you left us left me.
Everyone is gone, Jace.
Helaena is dead. Aemond. Joffrey. Daemon. Aegon. Your mother.
All of them- gone.
Silverwing is gone, too. All of the dragons are gone now. It was a horrible thing that I do not wish to relive for the rest of my days- but I miss her so deeply it aches in my bones.
I can only hope, at least, that she and Vermax have been reunited.
There are only three surviving members of House Targaryen now- Jahaera, your brother Aegon, and me.
The once mighty House of the Dragon, reduced to this.
Aegon will take the throne, though he is only a child. Jahaera will be wed to him, though she is only a child.
They wanted me to marry Aegon instead, to rule as the Queen Regent until he is old enough to sit the throne himself. I refused, so sweet Jahaera was put in my place.
Her care has been entrusted mostly to me for now, but every time I look upon her all I see is my sweet sister Helaena. I wonder if her death was painful, or if in her last moments as she fell from the window she finally felt free- free from this cage we learned to call home, from this senseless war started by fearful men who thought they knew better.
I wonder if you felt the same. I wonder, selfishly, if you thought of me in your final moments.
The Red Keep is full of ghosts now. Everywhere I turn, there is a memory of someone who no longer walks this earth.
I don’t know what will happen to me now that I have refused to marry Aegon. There are whispers that the small council wishes to marry me to Lord Cregan Stark, as an acknowledgement of his help in ending this war. I would become the Lady of Winterfell.
A part of me thinks that wouldn’t be so bad. Cregan Stark is kind. I met him after the war had ended.
My first thought was that you and him would get on well. I was both pleased and heartbroken to find out that he had gotten the chance to meet you, before everything, and that he thought you a brother.
We spoke of you at length. It felt nice, to have someone to talk to about you, who understood your goodness instead of just seeing you as the enemy’s son or bringing up the rumours that were spewed about you.
I would also have to go North if I marry him, which means I would never have to see the walls of this castle again, the ones that have haunted me so in the years since this war began. A part of me thinks maybe that is for the best.
But the other part of me wishes never to leave, because leaving may mean forgetting.
Leaving means not being able to walk through the Godswood and remember your laugh as we chased each other between the trees.
Leaving means not being able to walk past the rubble of the Dragonpit and remember two tiny figures sneaking in through the darkness, or the distant sounds of Vermax and Silverwing inside.
Leaving means not being able to see your face in every corner of this castle anymore.
But I also know that I will carry you with me in my heart for the rest of my days.
Even if I do marry Cregan Stark, my heart will always belong to the boy who snuck me lemon cakes from the kitchens when we were seven, or who slipped letters under my door just because he thought it was fun.
My heart will always belong to you, Jacaerys Velaryon. And my memories of you will never fade, no matter where in this kingdom I go.
Until we meet again,
Your Y/N
A letter written from the Princess (age 19) to the Late Prince from the halls of Winterfell; unsent; 135AC
My dearest Jacaerys,
It is the first moment of reprieve I have had in days, and of course the first thing I think to do is write to you, even though you will never read it.
I try not to think too much about that part.
So much has happened since I last wrote to you, but I fear I do not wish to talk about the crown anymore.
It has been three years since I left King’s Landing. The small council decided that the North was too valuable an ally to pass up, so the union between myself and Lord Cregan Stark was written.
I was scared, in truth, to leave King’s Landing. It was the only home I had ever known, but by the end it didn’t feel much like home anymore.
Nowhere really feels like home anymore, not without you, but Winterfell is the closest I think I will ever have now.
It is very beautiful here, in a different way than King’s Landing. The North is quiet, but never uncomfortable or eerie. I feel like I can breathe easier up here.
The snow is more beautiful than I ever imagined. It covers everything all of the time. It took a long time to get used to the cold and the fur cloaks, but I find a certain comfort in them now.
I also find a certain comfort in knowing you walked these halls once. Winterfell is not haunted with ghosts as the Red Keep was, but I can feel your presence around me if I search for it.
On my second day here, Cregan showed me the Godswood. It is almost ethereal, and the white snow and the white bark make the crimson leaves of the weirwood trees seem to glow.
I remember, long ago, you and I spoke about the Old Gods, and how we would ride North when the war was over to pray beneath a real weirwood tree.
I pray to the Old Gods much more now. Sometimes with Cregan, sometimes alone. It took me months to be able to do it without crying.
Cregan is a lovely husband. He understands me- not like you did, but in a way a friend would. In many ways, that is what he feels like- a friend. I know he feels the same.
It is nice, just like we thought it would be. To be married to someone who feels like a friend rather than a husband. He understands that a part of my heart will always belong to another, but he loves me anyway. And I understand the same about him- that a part of him will always belong to the wife he buried.
And I have grown to love him, in the ways I can- in the ways I have not been scorned by loss or war.
We have both known tragedy. It makes it easier, to accept the weight the other carries. We both understand a semblance of the grief the other bears, and we help them bear it the best we can.
I trust him, and he trusts me. We talk about everything and nothing. Sometimes I wonder if he ever runs out of things to talk about.
I wonder if you thought that about him too, when you met him. I suspect you did- you were always horrible at small talk.
Cregan and I exist most days as each other’s most trusted friend. But duty is duty, of course.
I’m writing this letter with my son cradled in my lap, sleeping against my chest. He is two years old now, and the future Lord of Winterfell.
He looks every bit a Stark, to the point where I may doubt my own involvement in his creation if I had not carried him for nine months.
But his name? Cregan and I agreed that there was only one name to call our son.
His name is Jacaerys. Jacaerys Brandon Stark.
I wish he could have been born with a dragon’s egg in his cradle, but I suspect he will not need a dragon to grow just as fierce as his ancestors.
I will tell him every day- of the strong queen Rhaenyra who never gave up fighting for what was right, of my sweet sister Helaena who kept her kindness even when the world was not kind to her. I will tell him about times when dragons ruled the skies, about how the wind felt whipping through my hair while soaring above Dragonstone with Silverwing, what the dragons sounded like when they were happy.
And I will tell him about his namesake- the bravest Prince there ever was, who would lay down his own life to protect those he loved.
I miss you every day. I don’t believe a day will come when I do not.
My daughter has started crying from her cradle, which I suppose is a sign to end this letter. She is only three days old and already causing trouble- a true Targaryen.
I wish you could know them, Jace. I hope that somewhere, maybe you’re watching, smiling down on us from somewhere better- somewhere that never felt the cold grasp of war.
I will join you there some day, on the other side. But for now, I have children to love, and many stories to tell them.
Jacaerys Velaryon x wife!reader - House of the Dragon (spoilers for s3 ep1!!)
Summary: Jacaerys survives the Gullet, so naturally the maesters have opinions about what he should and should not be doing during his recovery. Unfortunately for them, Jace has opinions too.
A/N: this works as a standalone or sequel to Saltwater, except this fic is significantly less angsty and significantly more "what if jace spent a month trying to argue with medical professionals." :) must admit i cracked myself up a lil writing this and also PLEASE send in reqs im running out of ideas
MASTERLIST - REQUESTS (open) - WC: 4.0k
A month after the Gullet, the castle still smells faintly of medicines, as though the sea itself has followed Jacaerys home and settled in the stone with him.
You have grown so accustomed to it that you hardly notice anymore.
A month ago, you would have given anything to smell it. A month ago, there had been blood. So much blood. But now there are only maesters, all the time.
Three of them stand gathered around the table right now near the window, speaking in low, serious voices while Jace sits in a carved chair looking increasingly irritated with every minute.
Sunlight spills through the narrow panes behind him, catching in his dark curls and turning the edges of them gold, softening him in a way that makes him seem almost boyish despite everything he has endured in the last couple weeks.
His injuries have faded from terrifying to merely alarming. The worst of the bruising is gone, the cuts have begun to heal, and colour has returned to his face, though not yet enough for you to relax.
Unfortunately for everyone else, so has his stubbornness.
You stand beside him with one hand resting lightly on the back of his chair, partly affection but mostly precaution if you're being honest with yourself, because the prince has developed an unfortunate habit of forgetting that nearly dying is supposed to slow a person down.
"Your Grace is recovering admirably," Grand Maester Gerardys says at last.
Jace straightens immediately, as if the words themselves have restored him. Gerardys clears his throat with the patient air of a man who has spent his life delivering unwelcome truths to the powerful. "Recovering admirably, however, does not mean recovered."
Jace slumps back with all the theatrical suffering of a man condemned to the Wall. Gerardys continues as though he has not noticed the prince's offence.
"Your ribs are still mending. The wound to your side has not fully healed. The fever has passed, but weakness remains. Any unnecessary strain could set back his recovery considerably."
Jace folds his arms. "What strain?"
The three maesters exchange a glance, and you immediately become suspicious. Jace notices it too, his brows drawing together. "What strain?" he repeats, sharper this time.
Nobody answers.
The silence stretches, and stretches, and then stretches a little further, until finally the old maester clears his throat again, looking faintly pained. "This includes physical exertion."
Jace nods at once. "Yes, I gathered that, obviously."
"Excessive physical exertion."
"Yes."
"Particularly..." Gerardys pauses, and one of the younger maesters suddenly finds the floor fascinating. "...marital exertion."
The room falls completely silent.
For a single moment Jace simply stares at them. Then his face changes all at once, horror and outrage arriving together.
"I beg your pardon?"
You turn away quickly because you can already feel laughter rising in your throat and you know if you let it out now you will never stop. Beside you, Jace looks scandalised beyond measure. "What do you mean?"
"My Prince-"
"No." The word echoes off the stone walls. "Absolutely not. This is absurd and I refuse to accept it."
Gerardys remains maddeningly calm. "It is only temporary."
"Temporary?" Jace sounds personally betrayed. "You are forbidding me from bedding my own wife."
The younger maester goes slightly red. You stare very intently at the tapestry across the room, because if you look at Jace now you will lose whatever dignity you have left. He points an accusing finger at the entire collection of healers. "I survived a naval battle."
"Indeed."
"I was shot."
"Yes."
"I nearly drowned."
"Correct."
"And your conclusion is that my greatest threat is my wife?"
The maesters look vaguely embarrassed. Jace looks outraged. And suddenly, despite the lingering ache that still lives in your chest whenever you remember the sight of him bleeding on a bed, you feel lighter, because this is familiar. This is your Jace. He's alive enough to argue and complain. Alive enough to glare dramatically at innocent old men and be stubborn.
Your hand slips from the chair to his shoulder, and immediately he covers it with his own. Gerardys notices, and his expression gentles. "My Prince," he says, "the restriction is not punishment."
Jace groans. "I would beg to differ."
A few of the maesters smile despite themselves. Gerardys gathers his papers, "It is only another month."
Jace nearly chokes. "A whole month?"
"Perhaps less, if recovery continues."
"A month."
"You survived the Gullet. Surely you can survive a few more weeks."
Jace mutters something deeply disrespectful under his breath, and you squeeze his shoulder in warning and affection both. His fingers immediately tighten around yours as he looks up at you, exhaustion and frustration playing on his features.
You smile at him, and his expression softens immediately.
Then Gerardys speaks again, and the spell breaks at once. "And separate beds may also be advisable."
Jace's head snaps around, "No."
Silence settles over the chamber. Jace's hand remains wrapped around yours, firm and warm and immovable. "I nearly died, so I am not sleeping without my wife."
They exchange glances and then, wisely, surrender. "Very well."
You lower your head to hide your smile, because truly, there are battles even the maesters cannot win.
That evening the matter should have been settled, at least in theory.
The maesters had spoken, their instructions delivered and their warnings had been repeated no fewer than six times over supper, as though saying them often enough might somehow make Jace more inclined to obey.
Instead, he is attempting to negotiate, which is perhaps exactly what you should have expected from him and yet still feels faintly absurd when he is sitting there shirtless on the edge of the bed, looking incredibly offended by the very concept of restraint.
You sit beside him with a fresh roll of linen in your lap while he holds one arm lifted so you can reach the wound along his side.
The chamber is quiet except for the crackle of the fire and the distant, steady sound of waves striking the cliffs below; night has fully settled beyond the windows, leaving only darkness on the other side of the glass and the warm gold of candlelight within.
Carefully, you peel away the old bandage, and he hisses through his teeth at the movement. You glance up at once. “You are being dramatic.”
"Three arrows pierced my body.”
“A month ago.”
“It still counts.”
You make a skeptical sound and reach for the ointment, though you cannot quite keep the corner of your mouth from twitching. For a few moments silence settles between you. You smooth the salve across healing skin, studying the angry scar that is beginning to form there, the sight still makes something twist painfully in your chest.
There are moments when you look at him and see only Jace; your husband, your best friend, the boy who once raced you through castle corridors and stole lemon cakes from the kitchens with the shameless confidence of someone who had never once been told no in his life.
Then there are moments like this, when memory comes back all at once and with it the blood, the fever, the endless waiting, the terrible certainty, however brief, that you might lose him. Your fingers pause before you can stop them.
Immediately, his hand settles over yours.
He notices. Of course he does.
You lift your eyes, and his expression softens at once. “I am all right,” he says quietly.
“Mm.”
His thumb brushes slowly across your knuckles.
Then, because Jacaerys Velaryon possesses the survival instincts of an overconfident golden retriever, he says, “I still think the maesters are being unreasonable.”
You close your eyes for a brief, weary moment. You had been wondering how long it would take.
“You are recovering from grievous injuries.”
“I am recovering exceptionally well.”
“You still tire walking up stairs.”
“Well, I dislike those stairs.”
You begin wrapping the fresh bandage around his ribs. “They are not unusual stairs, Jace.”
"They are steeper than other stairs."
Despite yourself, you laugh, and his grin appears immediately. He tilts his head, thoughtful in the way that always makes you suspicious.
“What exactly constitutes marital exertion?”
You nearly drop the bandage. “Jacaerys.”
“It is a reasonable question.”
You finish tying the linen perhaps just a little tighter than necessary, and he winces. You feel no guilt whatsoever.
“They were quite vague,” he says after a moment.
“They were not vague. They were, in fact, extraordinarily clear.”
Jace considers this with the air of a man weighing evidence in a trial he has already decided to win. “Perhaps to you.”
“To everyone.”
“Not to me.” His smile widens, and you are suddenly struck by the realisation that the maesters should perhaps have prescribed confinement in separate castles.
“They said strain,” he says, as though he's continuing a perfectly sensible conversation.
“Yes.”
“And exertion.”
“Yes.”
“So theoretically-”
“No.”
“What if-”
“Jace.”
He stops, though only because he is laughing now, actually laughing, and the sound fills the room so easily that for a moment you forget everything else.
“You are impossible,” you inform him.
“I have been told.”
He reaches for your hand, and you let him take it. His fingers close around yours with a warmth that feels almost unbearably familiar, and when he speaks again his voice has lost its teasing edge. “Another month is a very long time.”
You shake your head, smiling softly, but before he can begin constructing another ridiculous argument, you lean forward and press a kiss to his mouth.
The effect is immediate. Jace falls silent, blessedly, wonderfully silent, and when you pull back he blinks once, then twice, as though he has forgotten every thought he was having.
A second kiss lands at the corner of his mouth, then another against his cheek, and with each one his smile grows slower, softer, warmer, until by the third he has entirely abandoned his campaign against the maesters.
You feel rather proud of yourself.
He grins and reaches for you, and you allow him to pull you nearer. The blankets shift around you both as you settle beside him carefully, because he is still healing and you are both painfully aware of it.
His arm slides around your waist. Your head finds its familiar place against his shoulder.
The first week after the maesters' decree is irritating.
The second becomes ridiculous.
By the third, it's infuriating.
Jacaerys Velaryon approaches recovery the way he approaches every obstacle in his life: by refusing to accept that it is truly an obstacle at all.
If the maesters insist upon restrictions, then he will simply find exceptions.
One evening, as you sit beside him on the bed with your book open in your lap, he glances over and says, almost casually, “I stand by my opinion that their instructions were imprecise.”
You do not look up. “No.”
“They never actually provided definitions.”
You turn a page. “They are maesters, Jace, not scholars debating philosophy.”
He sighs, long-suffering and theatrical, and shifts a little closer.
Recently, he has become fond of finding excuses to sit beside you, or hold your hand, or drape an arm around your shoulders, or rest his head in your lap while insisting he is 'too weak' to move despite having spent the entire afternoon arguing in council.
“What if,” he begins. You close your eyes.
“What if,” he repeats, undeterred, “the concern is specifically overexertion?”
“It is.”
“Then surely the solution is simply avoiding overexertion.”
At last you lower the book and look at him properly. His expression brightens at once, as though he has won something merely by drawing your attention.
“Jace.”
“Yes?”
“No.”
He groans, and you return to your book.
Three nights later, he appears to have developed a new argument. You discover this when he is sprawled across the bed with his head resting against your shoulder, warm and comfortable and entirely too pleased with himself.
“What if,” he says thoughtfully.
You nearly laugh. “Again?”
“I have had several days to refine my position on the issue.”
“Gods preserve me.”
“What if I simply did not move very much? You could do all the... moving... uh, like difficult parts.”
You lower your embroidery hoop and glance down at him. He looks entirely sincere, which somehow makes it worse.
“Jacaerys.”
“I am not going to do any part because we are not going to do anything.”
He studies the ceiling for a moment, then turns his head just enough to look at you. “I think you are dismissing my proposals too quickly.”
“I think you enjoy hearing yourself talk.”
“I enjoy talking to you.”
Oh, you hate how good he is at being charming.
His arm slips around your waist. “You know,” he says quietly, “I do understand why you’re worried.”
The humour fades a little. You look at him, but his gaze remains fixed on your joined hands.
“You frightened me,” you admit.
Something flashes behind his eyes. “I know.”
Silence settles between you, gentle and sad and comfortable all at once. Then, because he is incapable of allowing a serious conversation to remain serious for too long, he lifts his head and says, “So that is still a no?”
You stare at him.
Jace immediately begins laughing, and when you throw a cushion at his face he catches it easily, looking delighted by the rejection.
Which, unfortunately, only convinces you that recovery is proceeding exceptionally well.
One morning at the beginning of the fourth week you're standing at the edge of the bedchamber, the salt-laced wind moaning through the open shutters as the last embers in the hearth crackle low.
Jacaerys is desperate today, even more than usual
He lies propped against the pillows, his bare chest rising and falling with quick, restless breaths, the angry red scars along his ribs and hip still mapped in fresh pink, but they are scars now, nonetheless.
It's been two months since the Gullet.
To the naked eye he seems fully recovered — he partakes in council meetings, goes on long walks with you along the shore, is no longer winded by those particularly steep stairs — but the maesters’ edict remains iron.
No strain, no exertion, no touch that might tear what they say has barely knit. Yet here he is, dark eyes fixed on you with shameless hunger, voice low and frayed.
“Please,” he murmurs, the words thick with frustration, his hand extended, palm up, fingers flexing as if he can already feel the shape of your waist.
“I cannot do this, I’m not some broken thing anymore. I feel you every night in my dreams, and then I wake up and you won't even let me touch you properly. I need your hand, your mouth, anything. Just… let me feel you again.”
He sits up a little straighter, a small grin finding his lips, voice dropping to a growl. “You’re aching too, I know it. Two months without feeling how wet you get for me-"
"Jacaerys, stop being so crude, you cannot possibly think-" but he continues, completely disregarding your objections.
"Gods, I’d give anything to see you under me like I used to, but I won’t move. I swear it. Just you, I'll even lie still.”
Your fingers tighten on the bedpost, because you cannot dent he's right. You do miss him, painfully so. You miss the feel of his hands on you and the stretch of him inside you, but reluctance still coils tight in your chest.
You take one hesitant step closer.
The cool stone floor beneath your bare feet gives way to the softness of the mattress as you perch carefully at his uninjured side, your fingers brushing the edge of the linen without yet touching him.
“Jacaerys,” you whisper, “I cannot, the maesters said-” But the way his hips twitch, just once, desperate and involuntary, stops the protest on your tongue.
A soft, helpless sound escapes him, and something shifts inside you, because this, in a way, is also him in pain, except this time you actually have the power to help him.
Your hand drifts over the sheet, hovering just above the bulge you can just start to see emerging beneath the linen.
“You must promise me you’ll lie perfectly still,” you remind him, the words gentle but unyielding, “There are reasons they forbid it; you could open one of the wounds.”
His dark eyes flash, jaw tightening as if he might argue, but apparently the months of forced stillness have left him too raw, too aching, and he nods once, a bead of sweat tracing down his temple.
You smile then, small and maybe a little teasing, and let your fingertips graze the linen over the head of his cock.
Slowly you peel the sheet down, then work on the laces of his breeches before pulling them down and finally revealing him fully to the firelit air.
His cock thick and flushed dark, the vein along its length pulsing visibly as you wrap your fingers around the base with deliberate lightness, still not quite sure how this is going to go.
He groans, low and broken, head tipping back against the pillows, but he holds himself rigid as promised, muscles trembling with the effort.
You lean in, breath ghosting over the sensitive head, and press the softest kiss there, tasting the salt of him while your free hand rests lightly on his uninjured hip to remind him of the boundary.
“Only on my terms tonight, dearest husband,” you whisper against his skin, stroking him once, slow and torturous, savouring the way his breath hitches and his fingers clutch the bedding instead of reaching for you.
“I will give you this, you just lay there and let me take care you.”
You tighten your grip just enough to draw another shuddering groan from him, your thumb circling the slick head of his cock in slow, deliberate strokes that make his thighs tense against the sheets.
He’s so hard it must be painful, the heavy length twitching in your fist with every pass,
The sight of your big, strong husband, normally so commanding, now reduced to biting his lip to keep from thrusting stirs something warm and aching in your chest.
It feels like the biggest relief.
You still remember every moment of the last two months, watching him wince at every breath, lying awake beside his bandaged body while fear gnawed at you both, and now here he is, flushed and leaking for you, trying so hard to obey even as his hips give one tiny, involuntary roll.
It’s adorable, that stubborn flicker of dominance surfacing in the way he grits out your name, only for it to dissolve into a whimper when you lean down and drag your tongue along the underside of his shaft.
His fingers fist the bedding harder, knuckles white, and you can see the war in his eyes, the urge to grab your hair and guide you deeper warring with the maesters’ warnings and his own fragile healing.
“Fuck… just like that,” he rasps, voice cracking with need so raw it makes your own neglected body clench.
You take him deeper into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks with a soft suck that has him arching his head back.
It's as if you're watching him heal in real-time, because he’s becoming himself again, that fierce, passionate man who once pinned you laughing to the furs.
You hum around him, savouring the salt-bitter taste of him while your free hand strokes soothing circles over his tightening stomach.
You pull off just enough to murmur against the flushed skin, teasing the slit with the tip of your tongue until his breath stutters.
“Still, Jace.”
Then you resume your rhythm, slow, twisting strokes of your hand paired with wet, deliberate licks. He trembles beneath you, every suppressed sound proof of how desperately he’s craved your touch.
You quicken your pace with deliberate mercy, not seeing a point in dragging this out any longer than you have to, lips sealed tight around him as your tongue swirls and your hand pumps in steady rhythm, feeling the way his thighs quake despite his vow to stay still.
His voice breaks on your name, half-command and half-plea, while one of his hands finds your hair and grips tight, not that you mind at all.
Finally, he spills hot and pulsing across your tongue, thick spurts you swallow with a soft moan of your own. You keep stroking him through it, gentling your touch as the last tremors fade, watching the tension drain from his battered body until he lies boneless and breathless, dark eyes glassy.
For a long moment afterward, neither of you says anything.
The chamber is quiet except for the soft crackle of the fire and the distant rhythm of the sea beyond the windows. The candles have burned lower than either of you realised, leaving the room washed in warm gold and shadow.
Jace lies beside you with that same dazed, contented smile still lingering on his mouth, as though he has not quite remembered how to put it away.
You glance at him from the corner of your eye and shake your head. “What?”
His smile only deepens. “Nothing.”
“Mhmm.”
He gives a quiet, breathless laugh and reaches for your hand where it still rests atop his stomach, threading his fingers through yours. His thumb moves over your knuckles, warm and absentminded.
The sight of him like this, softened and unguarded, makes something in your chest loosen.
You fuss over him out of habit more than necessity, fetching a washcloth, straightening the blankets around his hips and making certain he is comfortable, searching his face and posture for any sign that he has overdone himself despite every promise he made.
Jace watches the whole business with open affection, his expression growing gentler by the moment.
“My darling,” he murmurs, though there is no real complaint in it. You ignore him. “You are checking on me.”
“Someone has to.”
His teasing fades then, leaving something softer in its place. For a moment he simply watches you, and when he lifts your joined hands and presses a kiss to your knuckles, the gesture is so familiar that it catches you off guard all the same.
“Thank you,” he says quietly.
You look up at him.
The words are not playful nor triumphant, not even particularly clever. Your chest aches unexpectedly, because beneath all the bargaining and persistence and impossible shamelessness, you know what this has really been about.
Weeks of fear. Weeks of recovery. Weeks of being careful. Weeks of wondering whether life would ever feel normal again.
You squeeze his hand, and his fingers tighten around yours at once.
“You do not need to thank me.”
“I do.”
His voice is gentle. “I know I was insufferable.”
You giggle softly. “Do you now?”
Without either of you needing to say anything, Jace opens his arm toward you. You move into it at once, as naturally as breathing, as though you have done it a thousand times before. Because you have. Your head settles against his shoulder, his arm folds around your waist, and the blankets shift around you both as you settle more comfortably together.
Eventually you feel his lips brush lightly against your hair, a sleepy, lingering kiss that makes you smile before you can stop yourself.
“Tired?” you murmur.
“A little.”
“You should sleep.”
“So should you.”
The waves continue their endless song beyond the walls.
somehow i ended up writing a several-thousand-word account of jace velaryon attempting to find loopholes in doctor's orders. i regret nothing <3 lemme know if you guys liked this, trying to decide wether to write more for jace or not.
— this is how i imagined each of straykids members do when they try to muffle their moans by biting on your flesh as they fucked the shit out of you. forget restraint, they need grounding.
HEY— this is an 18+ post! please proceed witu viewer's descretion as this piece contains graphic smut thenes not suitable for minor readers. MDNI!!!!
CHRISTOPHER CHAHN BAHNG
Chan tries so hard to stay in control, but when he’s buried deep inside you, that control slips. He has you in missionary, legs wrapped around his waist as he fucks you with deep, powerful strokes. His face is buried in the crook of your neck, hot breath fanning against your skin.
Every time he thrusts particularly hard, a low, guttural groan tries to escape him. He bites down on your shoulder, not too hard at first, but firm enough to muffle the sound. “Fuck… you feel too good,” he growls against your skin, teeth sinking deeper as his hips snap forward. His bites are possessive but caring, leaving clear marks he’ll kiss tenderly later.
He loves the way your body jolts when he bites harder, the way you clench around him. “Sorry, baby… can’t help it,” he rasps, voice strained, before biting again to silence another moan as he pounds into you. His hands grip your waist tightly, using your body as leverage while his teeth stay latched onto your shoulder or neck. When he gets close, his bites become more desperate and messy, almost like he’s trying to ground himself. He cums with his teeth sunk into your skin, groaning deeply into your flesh as he fills you up. Afterwards, he licks and kisses every bite mark apologetically while whispering how perfect you are.
LEE LEEKNOW MINHO
Minho is a teasing sadist even when he’s losing control. He has you on all fours, one hand fisted in your hair as he fucks you hard from behind. Every deep thrust makes him groan, and instead of letting the sounds out freely, he leans down and sinks his teeth into your shoulder blade.
The bite is sharp and deliberate, meant to muffle his pretty moans. “Quiet… or I’ll bite harder,” he whispers, voice sweet but threatening, right before his teeth dig in again. He loves the way you whimper when he bites, the way your pussy clenches around him. He alternates between soft, teasing nips and hard, possessive bites that leave clear teeth marks.
He’ll bite the back of your neck, your shoulder, even the curve of your waist if he can reach it. Each bite is accompanied by a low, muffled groan that vibrates against your skin. When he’s close, his rhythm becomes punishing and his bites turn almost feral. He cums with his teeth sunk deep into your shoulder, groaning loudly into your skin as he fills you. Afterwards, he licks the bite marks almost apologetically while calling you his pretty kitten.
SEO CHANGBIN
Changbin is loud, intense, and completely unable to stay quiet when he’s lost in you. He has you bent over the edge of the bed in a deep doggy-style position, his powerful body completely covering yours from behind. His thick, muscular thighs slap against the back of yours with every brutal thrust, the sound wet and obscene in the room.
Every time his fat cock slams deep into you, hitting that perfect spot that makes your toes curl, a deep, guttural groan builds in his chest. He tries to hold it back, but he can’t. Instead, he leans forward, pressing his broad, sweaty chest against your back, and sinks his teeth hard into your shoulder. The bite is strong and possessive, his jaw clenching as he muffles a loud, animalistic moan against your skin.
“Fuck— baby, you’re so tight,” he growls, voice deep and rough, the words vibrating through his teeth into your flesh. His massive hands grip your snatchable waist tightly, fingers digging deep into your soft skin as he uses your body like a handle to pull you back onto his thick cock. The contrast is overwhelming. His huge, muscular frame against your smaller one, his teeth sunk into your shoulder while he pounds you mercilessly.
The position lets him hit even deeper, and his muffled moans become louder, more broken. He growls into your skin, teeth clenched tight as his hips stutter. He cums with a loud, deep, muffled roar, sinking his teeth hard into your shoulder as thick ropes of cum flood deep inside you. His whole body shakes against yours, muscles flexing as he holds you in place, refusing to let go until he’s completely emptied himself.
HWANG HYUNJIN
Hyunjin turns even something as raw as biting into something almost poetic. He has you riding him slowly, his back against the headboard, hands gripping your hips as you sink down onto his cock. His head falls back at first, long hair messy, lips parted in pleasure. But as the intensity builds and his thrusts become deeper, needy moans start slipping out.
He suddenly leans forward, burying his face in the curve of your neck and shoulder. His teeth graze your skin teasingly at first, then sink in with a low, breathy groan that vibrates against you. “You feel too good… I can’t stay quiet,” he whispers hotly before biting harder, teeth pressing into your soft flesh as he snaps his hips up sharply.
The bite is firm but graceful enough to leave a clear imprint, but never truly painful. He loves the way your body jolts when he bites, the way your pussy clenches around him in response. His long fingers dig into your waist as he uses your body to bounce you harder on his cock. Every deep thrust is paired with a new bite. On your collarbone, the top of your breast, the sensitive spot where your neck meets your shoulder.
Then he'd moans against your skin, teeth grazing before sinking in again. His voice is breathy and beautiful, even when muffled. As he gets closer, his bites become more desperate, almost frantic. He holds you down on his cock with one hand on your waist while his mouth stays latched onto your shoulder, moaning loudly into your skin as he cums deep inside you. Afterward, he gently kisses and licks every bite mark, admiring how pretty they look on your skin while whispering how perfect you are.
HAN JISUNG
Jisung is loud, desperate, and completely unable to stay quiet when he’s inside you. He has you in missionary, legs wrapped around his waist as he fucks you hard and fast. His face is buried in your neck, hot breath fanning against your skin with every thrust.
Every time his cock hits that perfect spot deep inside you, a loud, broken moan tries to escape him. He solves it by sinking his teeth into your shoulder, muffling the sound against your skin. “Fuck— baby, you feel so good I can’t—,” he whimpers before biting down harder, teeth digging in as his hips snap forward desperately.
His bites are messy and needy, lots of small, overlapping marks all over your shoulders, neck, and collarbone. He can’t control himself. The harder he pounds into you, the harder he bites, using your body to muffle his loud, whiny moans. “I’m sorry— you’re too tight,” he whines pathetically against your skin, teeth still latched on.
When he gets close, his thrusts turn frantic and sloppy. He buries his face completely in your neck and bites down hard on your shoulder as he cums, moaning loudly into your flesh while filling you up. His whole body shakes against you. Even after he finishes, he keeps his teeth gently pressed against your skin for a few seconds, breathing heavily, before he starts kissing and licking the marks apologetically.
LEE FELIX YONGBOK
Felix’s deep voice makes his muffled moans incredibly sexy. He has you in missionary, body pressed close to yours as he fucks you with slow, deep rolls of his hips. His face is buried in the crook of your neck, lips brushing your skin.
Every time he bottoms out, a low, rumbling groan builds in his chest. He muffles it by sinking his teeth into your shoulder, the vibration of his deep voice traveling straight through the bite. “You feel so fucking good, angel,” he groans against your skin before biting harder, teeth pressing firmly into your flesh as he grinds deep.
His bites are sensual and possessive. He loves leaving a trail of marks across your shoulders and chest. The combination of his deep voice, his teeth on your skin, and his thick cock stretching you open is overwhelming. He’ll switch between soft, teasing nips and harder bites that make you gasp. “Can’t stay quiet when you’re this tight around me,” he moans, voice beautifully low even when muffled.
When he’s close, his thrusts become deeper and more intense. He holds you tightly and bites down on your neck as he cums, groaning deeply into your skin while filling you up. The feeling of his teeth and his low, vibrating moans pushes you over the edge with him. Afterward, he gently kisses every bite mark, his deep voice soft and loving as he tells you how perfect you felt.
KIM SEUNGMIN
Seungmin tries to stay composed, but you feel too good for him to stay quiet. He has you pinned beneath him, fucking you with sharp, precise thrusts. His face is in your neck, and every time a moan threatens to slip out, he bites down on your shoulder.
The bite is firm and teasing. “Can’t even stay quiet for me?” he mocks softly against your skin before sinking his teeth in again. His bites are tender, never too painful, but hard enough to leave clear marks and make you whimper. He loves the way you clench around him when he bites. “Pathetic… getting wetter every time I bite you.”
He keeps one hand in your hair, pulling your head to the side so he has better access to your neck and shoulder. His thrusts are relentless, each one paired with a new bite. When he’s close, he bites down harder, muffling his rare but beautiful moans as he cums deep inside you. And even that bite couldn't hide how desperate his moans are spilling ending up with his whole body rigid. Afterwards, when you tried to open it up with he'll act as if that thing never happened.
YANG JEONGIN
Jeongin gets surprisingly possessive and eager when pleasure overwhelms him. He has you in doggy style or spooning, body pressed close as he fucks you hard. His face is buried in the back of your neck or shoulder, breathing heavily.
Every deep thrust makes him moan, so he solves it by biting down on your shoulder. “Noona… you feel too good,” he groans before sinking his teeth in, trying to muffle the sound. His bites start a little shy but quickly become more confident and possessive. He loves leaving marks on you, clear evidence that he was there.
As he gets more lost in pleasure, his bites become harder and more frequent. He grips your waist tightly with one hand while biting your shoulder, using your body to pull you back onto his cock. “I can’t stop… you’re too tight,” he whimpers against your skin, teeth still latched on. When he cums, he bites down firmly on your shoulder, groaning into your flesh as he fills you up, making up pull his head up just so he could gasp the pleasure out. Afterward, he becomes very soft and clingy, kissing the bite marks gently while asking if he was too rough.
Paring ꨄ︎₊⊹ bangchan x f reader (established relationship)
Summary ꨄ︎₊⊹ you never last long while riding Chris, so he makes you ride him until you cum
Warnings ꨄ︎₊⊹ SMUT, F/M, p in v, overwhelming for reader, praise, breeding, unprotected sex, fingering, being fucked up into
Authors note ꨄ︎₊⊹ I’ve been on a roll omg I’m writing these and posting them as I go so again they are really short
If you want any specific smut drabbles, request them!! I love writing them and would rather write things people enjoy
WC ꨄ︎₊⊹ 1.1k
You whine and embarrassed down at him. His hands are on your thighs helping you ride up and down on his cock. Almost as a joke you told him you wanted to see how long you could ride him for. In the past it was never long before he was turning you around and fucking you out of your own impatience.
“That’s it baby, you got it.”
Your thighs burn from working them for the past 30 minutes. That was already longer than you ever have gone before. You wanted him to fuck you. You were over this.
“Chris-“
“Keep going. I’m not letting you stop till you cum.”
You lean your head on his shoulder whining at his command. He couldn’t be serious. You really don’t think you can keep up for any longer. The burning was insatiable, getting physically hard to move up and down.
Even then he was doing most of the work for you, using your thighs to lift you then slowly bring you back down.
“I wanna see your pretty face.”
You look up at him, with soft fucked out eyes. He smiles while groaning as you come back down on him. He leans down bringing one hand to your face to make you meet his lips. He kissed you like he was starving, sucking on your tongue, biting your lip.
You whine in response, breath heavy from all this working. Why was he making you work for it? You were getting impatient, your pussy soaking his cock and practically begging to be fucked.
You both pull away from the kiss to breathe. You try focusing on using him for your own orgasm like told you to do, but get distracted when you feel his mouth on one of your nipples and his hand going to your other. Your hips jerk from the sudden sensation and you bring your arms around his shoulders.
He licked one long strip before closing his mouth around it. The warmth from his mouth and the feel of his wet tongue working on the sensitive skin.
“Fuck, Chris please-“
“Come on, you’re so close. I can feel you pulsing around me. after you cum I’ll fuck you how ever you want me to, yeah? be a good girl for me and cum like this just this once?”
You mentally groan at him not giving in this time, but your body clenches around him at his words. His lips attach back to your chest leaving kisses up your body till he reaches your neck.
Your whines and whimpers as you slowly go up and down on him make him smile against your neck before sucking. You might not be able to mark him up, but he will mark the hell out of you.
The feeling of his teeth and tongue on your neck makes you grind your hips, desperately trying to reach your high. You were so close, it was just hard without much of his help.
“Mhm, there you go.”
You moan getting encouragement from him, you wanted this over with. You grind faster, feeling it build up in your core. Your legs are giving out and you whine in frustration, your voice weak as you speak.
“Chris, please.”
He listens and grabs your hips helping you grind on his cock.
“Don’t worry baby, I’ll fuck you so good after this I promise. Is that what you want?” You nod quickly, hiding your face in his neck and shoulder.
“Princess, let me hear you.”
Your body twitches from the sudden warmth running down your body to where you and him connect. “Y-yes. Please.”
He leans back, spreading your legs apart, making you lay against his chest. His hips start moving to meet your movements, fucking up into you, making everything feel so much better. Your back arches, and your stomach tenses up before relaxing just to tense up again.
“Chris- I’m-“
“Yea, I can feel you. Cum for me, baby?”
You whine, feeling the pleasure built up in your core spreading throughout your body. Your legs shaking, your head feeling fuzzy, your body jerking as you pulse around him. He holds your small frame, still moving you up and down on his cock to ride it out.
It's not long before you feel him pumping his load into you, making sure it’s deep inside.
You both hold onto each other coming down from your high, breathing heavy and bodies tired. He comes to his senses before you and looks over to see you still needing time. He smiles seeing your cute frame and leans in to kiss over the mark he left on your neck.
“You did so good, I’m so proud of you.”
You whine in response, holding onto him tighter. You still felt empty, unsatisfied. But you both wait, still coming down from your high.
When you feel your stomach warming with heat again, You whine, grinding lightly on his cock that was still inside you.
He just smiles looking down at you grinding “So fucking impatient.”
He pulls you off of him, letting his cum slide down, and lays you down on the bed. His release was slowly leaking down onto your thigh. He spreads your legs open getting in between them and leans down to kiss you as his fingers tease at your wet entrance.
Your arms go around his shoulders pulling him closer, wanting to feel his warm body pressed up against yours.
As he leans into your touch, he slides two of his fingers in your pussy, using his thumb to tease your clit.
“You’re so beautiful.”
You look up at him, staring down at you leaning in for more kisses. Your brain was still catching up and processing everything. It didn’t matter what you guys were doing, he always made sure you felt loved.
You bring your hands to his face kissing him deeper. Pulling him to melt onto the bed with you. One arm on the side of your head to hold himself up over you, other hand still working between your legs.
“What do you want, baby?”
You could feel his hard coal on one of your thighs. You didn’t want to be kinky right now. You just wanted him.
“Make love to me.”
He smiles leaning down kissing your neck and jaw, bringing the hand that was touching you, up to your face and holding your head to kiss you deeper. You feel his lips go into a smile against yours
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