𓄲 In order to make ends meet you pick up a side job as the nanny of a brooding, cold perfectionist by the name of Jeon Jungkook — while in the process of doing so, you might've ended up twisting the narrative about your education just a little. Watching over a few children couldn't be too hard, right? Only Jungkook is very peculiar about how he wants things done — strict routines, meal plans and tedious study hours that make the Jeon estate feel more like a military camp than a home — and it's only a matter of time until cracks in the seemingly perfect facade begin to form.
전정국 x f!reader ˖ ࣪ ꉂ🗯˙ ‹— cw dilf!jungkook single dad jungkook nanny!reader 1980s au slowburn fluff angst explicit content age gap (jungkook is 30, reader is 20) jungook keeps secrets & so does reader
⧽ word count ⋮ 76.7k+ and counting
total reading time ⋮ 6 hours and 45 minutes
Help Wanted receives updates every week, usually around 4-6 days apart <3
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𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗣𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝗜𝗡𝗗𝗘𝗫
chapter 01 "daddy doesn't sleep in there anymore" [5.7k]
reading time ⋮ 30 minutes
chapter 02 "your clothes are dirty" [5.5k]
reading time ⋮ 30 minutes
chapter 03 "could you stay?" [7.3k]
reading time ⋮ 40 minutes
chapter 04 "when mom was here" [6k]
reading time ⋮ 30 minutes
chapter 05 "are there some messes that can't be fixed?" [5.2k]
reading time ⋮ 25 minutes
chapter 06 "hide and seek" [8.3k]
reading time ⋮ 45 minutes
chapter 07 "pancakes for lunch and empty fridges" [6.8k]
reading time ⋮ 35 minutes
chapter 08 "I didn't know you wore glasses" [6.2k]
reading time ⋮ 30 minutes
chapter 09 "dirty dancing" [5.9k]
reading time ⋮ 30 minutes
chapter 10 "whiskey tears" [7k]
reading time ⋮ 40 minutes
chapter 11 "checkmate" [6.1k]
reading time ⋮ 35 minutes
chapter 12 "guilty as sin" [6.4k]
reading time ⋮ 35 minutes
SYNOPSIS: as lady-in-waiting to rhaenyra targaryen, you find that her eldest son, jacaerys, is the only true friend and comfort you have amidst a brewing war that threatens to tear the realm apart.
note: jacaerys is nineteen, reader is eighteen.
༆ 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐓𝐖𝐎 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄.
༆ 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄.
{ FORMAT: one shot — requested.
{ WORD COUNT: 11.5K (this is a long one, not sorry!)
{ WARNINGS: SMUT (mdni), friends to lovers, inexperience from both reader & jace, loss of virginity (mutual), first time sexual experiences, sexual tension, p in v sex (unprotected), missionary position, lots of kissing and sweeter antics, slight risk of getting caught, oral sex (fem!receiving), handjob, fingering, hair pulling kink, brief overstimulation, tiddy sucking, this whole thing is soft & sweet smut, nothing disgusting here, jacaerys is the epitome of a perfect lover :))
{ AUTHOR’S NOTE: I am lowkey transitioning into becoming a Jace girl, I absolutely love him and I’m really enjoying where his character is going! This was a request from an anon user who wanted something freeform! I hope you all enjoy it, thanks so much for all of the recent love & support for my work! It makes me so happy! ❤️
𝐒𝐀𝐋𝐓𝐘 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐒 𝐏𝐄𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐊𝐒, harkened in from the gentle roll of the tides. Saltwater and dampened rock filled your nostrils, aided by the fluttering breeze as it danced across the obsidian cliffs of Dragonstone.
The castle stood the testament of time, a monolith to the rule of the Targaryens. It loomed overhead, less frightening in the lighter hours, blanketed by glittering rays of sunlight. A cloudless day — good for sailing, you thought, as vessels ushered in goods to the shoddy harbor below.
Beneath the vibrancy of a cloudless sky, you could see the shadow of a dragon soaring overhead — the Princess Rhaenys, from the horned shape above. You cupped your hand around your eyes, squinting to see, constantly mesmerized by such creatures.
In your fantastical dreams, you flew upon the back of a dragon, letting the wind scrape across your visage, feeling the weight of something so powerful beneath you. Of course, you were neither Targaryen nor Velaryon — possessing a dragon wouldn’t be in the cards for you, and perhaps that was a good thing.
As much as you enjoyed the beauty of Dragonstone, you much preferred the outdoors. The weather was splendid, and you took small victories wherever possible. With war on the horizon between your Queen Rhaenyra and her usurper brother, any chance at happiness was worth chasing after and holding onto, while you could.
House Celtigar had bent the knee to Rhaenyra, and your father sat at her council. You were made to be a lady-in-waiting, much your initial disdain. The station you held would’ve been considered a great honor to most young women, but you were inclined to be out in the ocean or on the back of a horse.
Now, you found enjoyment in it, wherever you could.
Oceanic air filled your lungs in a singular inhale, tinged with a saltwater sting. You stood near one of the many stone terraces lining the lengthy walkway to the castle’s entrance, accompanied by Joffrey. The boy had become your greatest joy amidst the brewing chaos, and you were rather grateful for it.
“Would you like to see the ocean, little Prince?” You held the boy’s hand, stooping down to wrap your arms beneath him, standing him up along the cobbled bannister. Joffrey’s laughter could brighten a whole room, and it did — it certainly lifted your spirits.
“When will I be able to ride a dragon?” He questioned, pointing towards the shape of Meleys in the sky. Joffrey was rather inquisitive — a sharp mind, one that would become a great leader someday.
You were unsure of how to answer such a question. Tyraxes was young and still small, just like Joffrey. “Whenever you grow up,” You hummed, a smile playing at either corner of your mouth. “You must be as tall as your brother, first.”
Joffrey toyed with the wooden dragon clutched between his hands, gaze falling toward the ground. “Luke wasn’t much taller.” He mumbled, and it nearly crushed your heart completely to hear the confusion and despair in a child’s voice.
Youth knew more than most, and in the mind of a child, something heinous could appear innocent, or something tragic was beyond their comprehension. Joffrey knew that Luke was gone — he wasn’t coming back. Silence drifted between the both of you, and you found it difficult to change the subject from Lucerys to something lighthearted.
“I miss him.” Joffrey’s sweet voice rang out like the pealing of bells, crystal-clear and downtrodden. You turned him around within your grasp, keeping your hands slotted underneath his arms to ground him. His eyes swam with unshed tears, prompting you to bring him into your embrace.
“It’s alright, my Prince. He’s still here,” You whispered, hugging the boy as tightly as you could. It was enough to rip at your heartstrings, tear you asunder as melancholy began to eat you alive. The fate of Lucerys was a tragic one — unfair and unwarranted, and now, a catalyst for destruction between kin. “We will remember him.”
From afar, Jacaerys observed you and his brother, standing along the ramparts with a palm atop the pommel of his shortsword. The emotional turmoil he continued to feel in regards to Lucerys happened to swell the moment he saw Joffrey clinging onto you — and he knew.
Wisps of a tempered breeze stirred his curled tresses, drifting across his regalia as it caught against his cloak. After the death of his brother, he had come out to the ramparts nearly every night, to sob and to curse the world, to pray to any God that would listen — return Lucerys, bring him home. He had lost count, and in turn, lost a bit of faith.
Remaining optimistic in the face of unavoidable danger was a difficult thing — fear had gripped him once, but no longer. He knew that the only time a man could be brave was in situations like these, where terror stared him in the face and dared him to submit.
Many still referred to him as a mere boy, with little experience and no real understanding of the world and its cruelty. Jacaerys had shed the raiment of boyhood the night he flew blindly into the darkness in the name of Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen.
With the man born, he knew that whatever would come next, he was prepared to face such challenges head-on. Brazenness was not in his nature, but he had learned to adopt stoicism when it mattered most. It was easy to shed the facade around his family, and around you.
His friendship with you was a calm within the storm, a lull in the tempestuous hurricane you were all trapped within. You now had as much stake in this game as he did — your father served on Rhaenyra’s council with Celtigar bannerman pledging to fight in the war to come, and you served as his mother’s lady-in-waiting.
Your blossoming bond was a great comfort, and the tender way in which you cared for Joffrey was a wonderful thing. You had a soft heart — a good heart, and that was something rare to come by. The two of you were both of a similar feather, and the admiration he held for you only seemed to grow stronger each day.
The word friendship often tormented him, on days where you wore beautiful gowns and stood beside his mother, or whenever you smiled. It tormented him when you held Joffrey within your arms and protected him just as fiercely as Rhaenyra would.
Honor demanded that he simply remain just that — a friend, but Jacaerys found himself smitten with you in a way that transcended propriety. To cross that line, especially with you, invited the disdain of his mother and the ire of your father, amongst other things.
Betrothal would be upon him soon enough, likely with a young maiden from the Vale or the Reach to secure an alliance, but it left a sour taste within his mouth. He had little desire to be with anyone else when you were right there.
Jacaerys steeled himself, abandoning his whimsical line of thinking in regards to you. It was a fool’s errand, and he couldn’t afford to be a fool. He stepped closer, the crunch of stone resonating underneath his boots as he approached you and Joffrey.
“My Lady,” Jacaerys’s tone was amiable, like the comforting lick of a warm hearth. His gaze flickered toward Joffrey, bemused with his brother’s antics as you balanced him along the bannister. “What are you doing up there?” He asked, playful in the presence of his little brother.
“Flying,” Joffrey’s head lifted from your shoulder, eyes sparkling with mischief. You happened to carry him in such a way that he called it flying — and he was asking you to do it again. “Flying!”
With a giggle, you picked the boy up, swinging him up enough to let him get some air. His melancholy turned to jovial laughter as you soared him over to Jacaerys, who was more than happy to pick him up. Joffrey clung to Jace, hugging his brother with all of his strength.
“You are getting too big to fly,” Jace mused, holding Joffrey in one arm as he motioned for you to accompany him. His tousled curls and amicable smile sent your heart fluttering as it had many times before. It wasn’t subtle, your liking of Jacaerys, but you understood the nature of your affections. “Big enough for Tyraxes, soon.”
Jacaerys was perfect, with all of the hallmarks of what a true King should be. He was gentle and eloquent, honed with a blade, learned — and above all, he was kind. The rage that plagued him now was justified, and it pained you to see him become coiled with anger, but you understood why.
As Joffrey regaled the two of you with tales of childlike wonder, soaring his toy dragon around Jace’s head, Jacaerys seemed inclined to converse with you regardless. “I always know where to look, whenever I need to see you.” He mused, walking alongside you as you made your way up the ramparts.
“Is that so?” You chuckled, head canting to one side. “What did you need to see me for, your Grace?” It was a force of habit — he was the heir to the Iron Throne, after all. Jacaerys regarded you with a brief laugh, knowing that formalities were often abandoned whenever the two of you were together.
“Do I need a reason?” Jacaerys mused, voice light and inviting. The crash of the tide upon the beach provided a rather serene ambience, accompanied by the calling of gulls as they circled the bay.
You shook your head, skirts gathered in one hand as you narrowly avoided an upturned plate of stone. “Of course not,” You hesitated, gaze sparkling as your nose wrinkled in mild amusement. “Jacaerys.” You ensured to exaggerate his name, allowing for your conversation to become personal.
At the end of the ramparts, a flock of crimson-clad handmaidens awaited your return. It was likely that they were waiting for you to hand Joffrey over, much to your dismay. The black-headed boy looked to you as you neared the end of your walk.
“I don’t want to go,” He protested, reaching for you as you stepped forward, taking a hold of his hand. “When can we fly again?” Joffrey asked, lower lip jutting out in a rather innocuous pout. He leaned forward, partially out of Jace’s grasp to give you a hug.
“Tomorrow, my Prince. I will let you fly as much as you’d like.” You assured him, reciprocating his hug with one of your own, with all of the warmth one could muster. It was motherly in-nature, and you watched as Jacaerys planted him onto solid ground.
Joffrey took the outstretched hand of a handmaiden, glancing back at you and Jacaerys before they disappeared behind the castle’s massive gates. It always hurt you to leave him, but you knew that tomorrow would come swiftly. A begrudging sigh escaped you before you looked at Jacaerys, countenance somber.
Jace knew what you were about to say — something about Lucerys. The gaping wound left within his heart was barely healed, still oozing with pain, but he was making every effort to mend it. You helped — your resolute reassurance and shoulder to lean on, but sometimes, it wasn’t enough.
Instead, you reached for Jace’s forearm, giving it a brief squeeze of comfort. Whatever sentiments he held, you seemed to echo it, leaving it all unspoken. You and Jacaerys had already spoken about it all at-length — sometimes, he had little desire to tear himself open again.
His head hung low, heap of dark curls billowing in the wind. Jacaerys’s jaw tightened for a brief moment, and he imagined plunging his sword into Aemond Targaryen’s other eye — and then it passed, just as quickly as it had appeared.
A forlorn silence settled between the both of you, one that was born out of mutual understanding and empathy. Jace went quiet often, and you were content to sit in it for as long as he pleased. Instead, you stepped toward the bannister, palms planting themselves atop the stone as you gazed out toward the land surrounding Dragonstone.
“You are good with him,” Jacaerys broke the silence, deliberately stepping towards you as he stood by your side. Joffrey and his half-brothers, Aegon and Viserys, were all he had left. He would die for them if he had to. “He talks about you often.”
An exuberant smile crept onto your features, one of a sweet fondness in regards to Joffrey. “He is a sweet boy — very sharp-witted, though. I would imagine he will grow to be very wise.” You replied, idly tracing your fingers around some of the rocks socketed into the bannister.
“I remember the day he was born,” Jacaerys recalled, remembering the day that his mother, pale skin glistening with sweat, had wobbled into the drawing room, a newborn Joffrey in her arms. “It was a beautiful day, and Ser Harwin was there, and Ser Laenor …” He trailed off, recalling the way that Lucerys had begged to hold his younger brother.
The topic of both Laenor and Harwin were bitter ones — both men playing the role of father. Jacaerys loved them both, as any son would. Another gust of saltwater mist brushed along the ramparts, dusting your cheeks with wisps of moist air.
Wordlessly, you reached for Jace’s arm, looping yours around him as you let him lean against you for support. As much as Jacaerys insisted that he would recover and move on, you ensured him that grieving took time — it came in many shapes and forms.
Jace’s smile was wistful and threadbare, made sorrowful by memories of Lucerys. He didn’t want to sully the moment with his melancholy, holding his head high as he glanced toward you. You were not looking, but it allowed him a moment of appreciation and admiration.
Your beauty was unparalleled, your features delicate and smile like the warmth of a summer sunshine. The way in which you carried yourself was of a kindly disposition, made to be nurturing and helpful instead of imposing. Admittedly, you took his breath away — the feeling was a constant one.
Sunlight sparkled across your countenance, gaze soothing and full of empathy. The way in which you grasped his arm, kept yourself tucked away within his side, it invoked feelings of protectiveness — and newfound affection.
A dragon’s shrill cry reverberated throughout the skies, prompting Jacaerys to immediately look ahead. It was the familiar shriek of Vermax, his bonded dragon, who had grown exponentially. He was larger than Moondancer, with olive-colored scales and orange fins, eyes the color of a burnished gold.
“Māzigon, Vermax!” Jacaerys called, gaining the attention of his dragon as it began to approach, causing your heart to gallop within your chest. He looked at you with a hint of amusement, head canting to one side. “Would you like to see him?” Jace inquired, moving along the wall.
As majestic as dragons were, the wonder within your eyes had quickly shifted to wariness as it landed along the ramparts, rocks scraping underneath its talons. Vermax was much larger when in close proximity than he was flying overhead. “He is wonderful, Jace. Though, it is best if I keep my distance. He might not like me.”
Jacaerys laughed, amber-brown eyes sparkling with mirth. “Might not like you?” He mused, knowing that such a thought was outlandish. If he liked you, then Vermax most certainly would. A dragon could always pick apart friend from foe, and you were as far from an enemy as one could be.
“Yes, what — Jacaerys, that is a perfectly reasonable thing to say,” You countered, flustered by Jace’s reaction to your skepticism. His smile was cheery and heartfelt as he stared at you, and then offered his hand. “I do not think that this is a good idea.” A soft utterance emerged from under your breath.
“Trust me.” His tone softened exponentially, shifting from playful to gentle, reassuring. You hesitated before taking a hold of his hand, and Jacaerys nearly brushed his thumb across your knuckles out of sheer instinct. Whatever thoughts he had, he pushed them to the far recesses of his mind.
You trusted Jacaerys more than most, prompting you to nod as he ushered you closer to Vermax. His grasp was tender, as to not frighten you, which only made your heart flutter with affection. The dragon bristled and made a series of noises, some more serpentine than others.
Vermax lowered his head, pushing closer towards his rider as the dragon bowed to Jacaerys. You were close enough to feel the waves of heat wafting from his breath, close enough to outstretch your arm and feel his scales beneath your palm.
The scent of brimstone and dragonscale lingered upon Vermax, like a crackling fire and smoke. You watched with bated breath as Jace’s palm moved to Vermax’s snout, digits tracing along the olive-hued scales, and down toward his jaw. “Sagon iēdrosa,” Jace murmured, stepping closer to his dragon. “Sȳz.”
High Valyrian was an exquisite language, a beautiful symphony from an ancient era. Jacaerys had become proficient in such a tongue, and the way he spoke it had you mesmerized. With a gentle smile, he still held your hand, gesturing toward Vermax.
“What are you saying to him?” You inquired, losing some of your fear. It gradually waned the closer Jacaerys had inched you toward the dragon, who showed no ill will towards you at all. Instead, Vermax’s burnished hues glimmered with intrigue — you were a familiar scent, emblazoned upon Jace, but not a familiar face.
“I told him to be still for you,” Jacaerys replied, fingers flexing around your own as he carefully guided you toward Vermax’s neck, where the scales began to flare and thicken. Olive turned to emerald in some places, verdant shades clashing together. “Place your hand here.”
Your breath hitched within your throat as Jace became in close proximity to you, closer than he’d been before. His grasp was a tender one, placing your palm atop the dragon’s throat. Warmth crept along the length of your spine, filling your belly with an eruption of butterflies.
You made the mistake of glancing at Jacaerys for the briefest moment, able to spot the rosy flush of color within his visage and the gleam within his stare. As soon as you’d made contact, he happened to glance away, making a soft noise as it stirred within his throat.
Vermax chortled, the dragon’s attention fixated upon you as you brushed your fingers across his scales. Jace had dropped your hand, realizing the sliver of space between you both as he stepped aside, content to observe you with his dragon.
It was your enchanting laughter that lifted his spirits, the gentle way in which you stroked across Vermax’s neck and shoulder. “He is beautiful,” You hummed, countenance bright with a joyous radiance as you looked at Jacaerys once more. The gap between you had grown, much to your dismay. “How do you say that in High Valyrian?”
Jace hesitated, lips parting just slightly. His heart nearly skipped a beat when you smiled at him, expectant and awaiting his answer. He became so easily distracted in your presence, and it was somewhat vexing to behold. “Gevie,” He replied, briefly clearing his throat. “Gevie means beautiful, in High Valyrian.”
With a soft hum, you looked to Vermax, your grin toothy and amused. “Gevie, Vermax.” You spoke clearly, but the dragon did not seem to understand what you said — it wasn’t a command. Instead, he let out a series of reptilian noises, nostrils flaring with snort, almost like that of a horse.
Vermax’s lack of reaction made you frown, but Jacaerys appeared amused by it, at least. “Gevie isn’t a command,” He mused, head canting to one side. “Your High Valyrian needs improvement.” His tone was jocular, teasing — it made your heart stir within your chest.
“Fortunately, I have the perfect teacher standing before me.” You countered with a giggle, noticing the way in which a shade of pink settled into his features. Jacaerys was beautiful and handsome, but his flustered behavior only made him more perfect to you.
The dragon shook its head, seeking the embrace of his rider before he began to take flight. A massive gust of wind from the flap of his wings nearly knocked you down, causing you to crouch and grip the stone of the ramparts.
Jacaerys smiled, watching as Vermax ascended, taking to the skies above Dragonstone once more. You watched with a semblance of awe, slowly rising to your feet as the dragon became a mere specter amidst the cloudless sky. He did not stray too far, circling around with the likes of Moondancer and Syrax.
“Someday, I will take you flying with me,” Jace suggested, nose wrinkling slightly at your bewildered expression. “I would keep you safe.” He reassured you before words could emerge from your mouth, his chuckle amicable as he led you back toward the gates of Dragonstone.
“I trust you, but flying?” To see the world from such great heights sounded wonderful, but you feared the fall — and you feared the unknown of it all even more. “That might take more convincing than this did.” You mused, walking alongside him as the gates became closer.
A huff escaped him, hand dropping from the pommel of his shortsword to his side, a symbol of letting his guard down. A comfortable silence settled between the both of you, occasionally accompanied by a brief bout of laughter or tender smiles.
As the gates loomed over the both of you, Jacaerys hesitated, deliberating on what to say next. There were so many things he wanted to say to you — where did he begin? The nerves of first affection grabbed hold of him, but he remained resistant, wanting nothing more than to tell you how much you meant to him.
“Perhaps an exchange is in-order,” Jacaerys began, shifting his weight from one foot to the next. “You come flying with me, and I will teach you High Valyrian.” He mused, smothering his grin at your expression. You were clearly wary and unimpressed.
“Danger for something that I could learn in the comfort of a book? I think not, your Grace.” With a grin of your own, Jace happened to snicker, his visage invoking an unspoken challenge, albeit playful. “If I am ever feeling bold and spontaneous, I will inform you as soon as possible.”
Jacaerys hummed, head ducking for just a moment before he met your gaze again, doting and overflowing with a subtle warmth. “Thank you for this,” He began, tone heartfelt and genuine. “I would not know what to do if it weren’t for your company and comfort. I’ve found it difficult to remain jovial as of late, but it’s rather effortless in your presence.”
His genial compliments made your stomach turn with excitement, and you could soar away. Jacaerys would be an excellent ruler, should he take the Iron Throne — such grace, compassion, and gallantry were true hallmarks of what would make a good King. You felt the familiar, smitten flush dance along your skin.
“Of course, Jace — you never have to ask for it,” Your fingers twisted into the silk of your gown, an outlet for your growing nerves. “You’ve no idea how much your company means to me. We will get through this together, that much I know.” With a brief nod, you felt his stare grow in intensity.
Before he could bear his heart to you on a whim, the gates opened, revealing several Targaryen bannermen and Kingsguard. It was sudden and somewhat jarring, placing the two of you back within reality — in a realm on the brink of war.
“I should return to your mother, I fear I’ve neglected my duties enough today,” You murmured, offering Jace a kindly smile before dropping to curtsy. He seemed starstruck, as if caught within the depths of his own thoughts. “Good afternoon, your Grace.”
Formalities reappeared again, much to his disdain. He loved it when you called him Jace or Jacaerys, or your Grace whenever you teased him. To hear it used in the context of nobility made him feel distant, but he understood. You possessed a strong sense of propriety.
“My Lady.” Jace replied, watching as you took your leave to rejoin the other handmaidens and guardsmen. Jacaerys cursed himself for not making the most of the moment, but he knew that he could make his own opportunity, forge it if it never came about.
He intended to do just that.
𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐀𝐓 𝐃𝐔𝐒𝐊 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐋, with braziers dancing across the obsidian interior. Stars sparkled above a clear night sky, dragons dancing above. It was almost like something from a fairytale or a painting, mesmerizing to behold as you gazed up at the scaling ceiling of your bedchambers.
Your quarters were small and homely, befitting of your status as lady-in-waiting. Rhaenyra had ensured that your lodgings and that of your father were enough — more than suitable, really. The feathered mattress you slept upon was made for royalty, you thought.
The constant flicker of candlelight provided a source of warmth as you rolled over within your bed, blankets hauled up beneath your chin. It was too early to fall asleep, too late to do anything of substance.
A knock at your door gave you pause, brows furrowing together as you retrieved your robe, lacing it around the sheer gossamer of your nightgown. Bare feet traveled across the cold stone, until you reached the metal hoop slotted atop mahogany.
With a pull, you opened the door, surprised to find Jacaerys, who had abandoned his traditional Targaryen regalia, hands occupied with a stack of various tomes and scrolls. His mop of dark curls framed his face, and even he seemed just as bewildered as you were.
“Jacaerys,” His nightly visits were rather uncommon — in fact, this was only the second time he’d come, the first following Lucerys’s passing. You swallowed the growing lump within your throat, stepping aside to allow him inside of your chambers. “Is everything alright?”
Jace placed the stack of books atop the table that sat amongst small lounge chairs, ensuring to clear his throat before he spoke. “Of course,” He replied, gesturing toward your newfound reading material. “I’ve brought you scripts to learn High Valyrian.”
You blinked, touched by such a thoughtful gesture. You smoothed your palms across your robe, stepping forward to inspect the books, many of which appeared ancient and weathered. “You didn’t have to,” You replied, head canting to one side. “Many of these seem important. Are you sure that no one will miss these?”
A brief chuckle escaped him before he shook his head. “The Maesters might, but they’ve read them a hundred times over, I’m certain of it. You will find more use.” He replied, retreating toward the threshold of your chambers. Jacaerys wanted to keep his visit brief — visiting a young woman’s quarters in the dead of night was not exactly an intelligent move.
“You’re leaving so soon?” Your inquiry held a twinge of disappointment, hoping that he would stay and converse with you, at the very least. “Jacaerys, I assure you that no one will admonish you if you stay for a few minutes longer.” The softness of your voice enticed him, and he very nearly confessed then and there.
The weight of growing sentiments felt as if they would swallow him whole if he did not speak them into fruition. With the threat of a looming war and the potential for oblivion, Jacaerys was unsure of what gave him pause. The fear of rejection, perhaps? That wasn’t it.
It took a moment for you to adjust, and when you did, you noted his own attire — a billowy tunic and dark trousers that happened to make him appear softer in the candlelight. The sharp black and crimson of his house’s colors made him intimidating and poised, but no longer.
You saw Jacaerys himself, doe-eyed and magnificent.
“I fear what will happen if I stay,” Jacaerys confessed, squaring himself with the door. If he continued to linger in your chambers without restraint or without additional eyes, he knew what would happen — he did not want to sully your honor. “I won’t.”
“Jacaerys,” You whispered, brows furrowing together to form a look of confusion and startlement. Out of concern, you stepped closer, abandoning the scripts of High Valyrian now scattered across your table. “What’s wrong? I don’t understand.”
The inner war he waged within seemed to reflect upon his countenance, as Jacaerys exhaled — it was laced with stress, a heaviness that you struggled to understand. He seemed flustered, not wanting to meet your amiable gaze. “It is best if I leave it alone.” He replied, taking a hold of your hands. “I would not tarnish your honor.”
That is what he meant.
Something boiled over inside of you, the butterflies and blossoming affection turning into a tidal wave that threatened to swallow you whole. As Jace held your hands, he seemed desperate to convey such a message — whatever he wanted, he could not have.
A brief exhale escaped you before you steeled yourself, thumbs brushing across his knuckles, over the veins of his hands. “You wouldn’t tarnish it,” You whispered, stomach churning with molten heat. “I know that you wouldn’t, Jace. I trust you the most.”
Jacaerys felt the stirring within his chest, the first inkling of arousal settling into his very bones. It was somewhat foreign — a new feeling, but exciting and exhilarating. “I would never hurt you,” He insisted, and you believed him wholeheartedly. “What I feel for you, I do not wish to feel this way with anyone else.”
If you could’ve collapsed then and there, you would’ve — you thought it would happen, with the way your knees rattled together beneath your nightgown. The beating of your heart accelerated into a violent crescendo, and then you felt the rush — the love you had for him, desire, admiration, neediness.
A tenuous silence drifted between you both, the tension thick enough to be sliced with a blade. Jacaerys had inched closer without thinking, able to peer down into your eyes, swirling with affection and bewilderment. “If I told you I felt the same?” Your voice barely rose above a whisper.
Deliberately, Jacaerys released one of your hands, allowing his palm to fully envelop your face, the pad of his thumb caressing your cheekbone. “I would never difile your virtue, or take it for granted. You must tell me if this is something you want.” He insisted, jaw tightening as he anxiously awaited your answer.
You knew that he wouldn’t — Jacaerys Velaryon was the most honorable man you knew, one that would never lay a finger upon you unless you consented. You couldn’t imagine a return to friendship if you happened to reject him — you didn’t want to reject him, either.
“I do,” A shudder ran down your spine, bringing a wave of thrill and anticipation with it. “I want this — and I want you, Jacaerys, if you’ll have me.” Part of you became nervous, knowing that you had never bedded a man before, but you pushed the thought aside.
“A hundred times over.” Jace uttered, dipping down to press his lips against yours. The kiss was incredibly sweet and delicate, something brief to test the waters as the two of you began to explore uncharted territory. Your hands reached for his chest, flat atop his sternum.
Allowing the kiss to linger, you tilted your head just slightly, enough to permit a sensual progression. He kissed you so sweetly, treated you as if you were precious, something to be worshiped. When he inevitably pulled away, you felt a twinge of nervousness.
“I’ve never done anything like this before,” Your confession was a strenuous one, and you hoped that he wouldn’t be disappointed by your lack of experience. Most men already had a plethora by the time betrothals and first love emerged. “Is that alright?”
“Of course,” Jacaerys reassured you with a gentle squeeze, brows furrowing together with insistence. He hesitated, somewhat sheepish to admit the very same, but he knew you wouldn’t admonish him for it. “I haven’t either, if that’s alright.” He mused, the corner of his mouth twitching into a smile.
A sweet bout of laughter escaped you before you nodded several times over, unable to keep from withholding your happiness. “I suppose that this will be quite the learning experience.” You felt his thumb stroke along your jaw, his lips molding themselves to yours in another kiss.
Passion and tension began to mount, a continuous climb of affection, prepared to turn into something fiery. Jacaerys worried that he would disappoint you, or perhaps feel clumsy and awkward, but those were mere insecurities — he knew that you wouldn’t hold it against him.
One of his hands dropped, finding the pliant curve of your hip as he sank his digits into you, able to haul you closer, until there was no space left between the two of you. Kissing felt effortless with Jace, despite your inexperience — he was gentle and deliberate, ensuring that he took his time with you above all else.
Your fingers wandered from his chest to his broad shoulders, finding the curls of hair at the nape of his neck. Jacaerys exhaled, a shiver rolling down his spine as you began to gently tug at his tresses. He canted his head slightly, enough to deepen the kiss and hold you close.
It was Jace who slowly broke the kiss, but just enough to speak, warm breath fanning across your face. “May I take you to bed?” He murmured, tracing across the silky plane of your jaw. His excitement began to grow, heart hammering within his chest.
In such close quarters to one another, you noticed the faint dusting of freckles along the bridge of his nose, spreading just underneath his eyes. You pressed a kiss against the corner of his mouth. “You may.” Eagerness replaced any nervousness you were experiencing, then and there.
Jacaerys found your hand, twining his digits with your own as the two of you inched toward your bed. It was plush, lined with furs and enough blankets to warm the Seven Kingdoms. He stood at the precipice of a cliff, preparing to dive headfirst — and it felt incredible.
He watched with bated breath, rapturous and enamored as your digits settled along the many ties of your outer robes. You began the sluggish process of untethering each one until the garment loosened, enough for you to shrug it aside and drape it over the chest at the foot of your bed.
Even with the veil of sheer, silky fabric, Jacaerys quietly admired your physique, shapely and beautiful in every way imaginable. “You are perfect,” Jace uttered, hands coming to settle around your hips, searching for any sign of hesitation on your end. “Beautiful.” He exhaled, feeling you coax him in for another kiss.
Through the slip of silk and gossamer, Jacaerys deftly felt his way along your body, taking his time savoring you. Every curve and dip, every little detail he committed to memory, lost within a sea of you. Your kiss became passionate, and he was more than happy to reciprocate, the intensity burning between you both.
Jace felt your fingers tease the hem of his tunic, enough to elicit a subtle gasp from him. The sensation of your flesh against his caused goosebumps to spread from where your digits brushed against his waist. He released you for a moment, long enough for him to assist you in removing his nightshirt.
A pang of admiration struck at your stomach, breath hitching within your throat. He was pretty — well-muscled for a young man, with sunkissed skin, smatterings of freckles along his shoulders. Jacaerys felt your lips press against the hollow of his throat, warmth fanning out from the simple contact.
“I want to take care of you, if you’ll let me.” Jace murmured, insistent on pleasuring you above all else. He knew very little of what ensued between a woman and a man within the confines of their bedchambers outside of the simple act itself, but it was easy to imagine.
Your lips parted, heat sinking into your bones as you reached for his curled tresses, digits slipping through his soft, dark locks. “Yes”, Your voice was barely above a whisper as you coaxed him in for another kiss, one charged with arousal and desire. “I want you, Jace.”
The heady, wanton way in which you spoke his name caused him to shiver, bare chest pressed snugly against your own. Even the veil of silken fabric could not hide your supple frame from him, the peaks of your breasts soft and pliant.
His kiss was so gentle — it was charged with lust despite its tame nature, not that you minded. You felt his hands fall to your hips, melding into your curves before he began to gather the fabric within his hands. Jacaerys looked to you before continuing, and you gave him a nod to signal your approval.
Silky gossamer slowly crawled up the length of your legs as Jace gathered your gown, sliding it upward. You couldn’t fight against the onslaught of molten heat that churned violently within your stomach, shamelessly pooling between your legs.
Jacaerys hesitated, likely thinking of what to do next. He had been educated on what consummation was, the act of making an heir — but there was more to it, more of you to explore. Curiosity consumed him as he placed his palm atop the bare skin of your thigh, using the other to ease you down onto your bed.
He sat beside you, leg to leg as he continued to push your nightgown up toward your hips, skirts gathering around the middle of your thighs. “May I?” Jace’s voice seemed to grow husky with arousal, desire burning its way through his veins.
Instead, you gingerly took a hold of his hand, guiding it underneath your gown as you parted your legs enough to allow him unhindered access. He caressed you wherever he could, shuddering when you held the trail of your nightgown in one hand to push it up around your hips.
You nearly squeaked when his palm brushed along your inner thigh, lips parting with a sharp exhale. Jace moved closer, as close as he could as his mouth graced your neck, digits inching toward the slick heat between your legs. When he found it, you let out a simpering whine, reaching for his forearm.
A hushed moan escaped you as two digits trailed across your cunt, exploratory and feather-light. Your hips canted forward into the sensation, desiring more — and Jace obliged, pushing both fingers inward until they slipped past your folds.
“Jace,” You whispered, eyes fluttering shut as he continued to pepper strings of sweet kisses along your neck, gown sagging enough to let him kiss your shoulder. “Do not stop, please.” That breathy plea exuded some power over him, and he was enthralled, prepared to do whatever you asked of him.
“Is that alright?” Jacaerys asked, digits becoming a touch more vigorous as he stroked at your slit, surprised at how wet you were. If it were a common thing, he would know what to expect in the future. His thumb grazed your clit, and you gasped.
With a soft hum of approval, you nodded, shifting your legs apart just a little more. “Y—Yes,” Absentmindedly, your fingers slipped from the taut muscle of his forearm to his hand, the one wedged underneath your gown. “I — Like this.” You instructed him to touch you how you had touched yourself.
Jacaerys watched through a half-lidded stare, beyond entranced with you. You were beautiful — so painfully ethereal that it made him want to kneel before you, a goddess made to be worshiped. You adjusted his fingers, ensuring that his thumb pressed against your clit with continuous pressure.
Despite his nonexistent experience, he was doing wonders for you — he was attentive and willing to learn your body as you saw fit. He was so handsome, lips curling into an affectionate smile before he kissed your jaw, digits continuing from where they’d left off.
Your palm fell across his thigh, nails beginning to dig themselves into the muscle there as he touched your clit, digits tracing around the rest of your cunt. The candlelight highlighted his features in such perfect detail, the illumination slight.
Reverence seeped into each action, every stroke of his fingers evoking a string of whimpers from you. He was passionate and careful, willing to learn your body better than you. He continued to caress your clit, the sensation sending jolts of electricity throughout your body.
His name became your prayer, devolving into desperate moans and whispered pleas as you rocked your hips into the sensation of his hand. “Jacaerys,” You sighed with passion, feeling the stirring within your stomach. Arousal consumed every part of you, just as it did him. “Jace.”
The dark-haired Prince let out a soft groan into the hollow of your throat, wanting you more than anything, and the hand you had perched atop his thigh did little to ease the fever. He kissed your neck again, scarlet-faced and beyond eager, whispering sweet nothings in High Valyrian against your skin.
Excitement and the heat of the moment seemed to get to you, as you used one hand to sloppily unlace the leather ties of his trousers. You wanted to touch him too, let him feel exactly how you felt — how he made you feel.
Jace shivered, not objecting, but he wanted to focus on you above all else. “What about you?” He asked, feeling his cock twitch with want. The ache he had for you was almost painful, threatening to tear him apart if he couldn’t find relief.
“Together,” You suggested, turning enough to crawl into his lap, much to his delight. Jacaerys held you steady, lips clamoring together in a messy flurry of tongue and adoration. It was the anticipation of youth — the desire and sentiments overrode everything else, made duty disappear. “You are perfect.”
His brief smile made all of your worry dissipate, fading into mere background noise. Your hands returned to the leather ties of his breeches once more, sluggishly loosening them. Jace steeled himself, a fire burning within his belly as you reached down.
A low, satisfied groan tore past his lips when your hand gently wrapped around his cock, searching his visage for any sign of discomfort. There was none — only desire, lust festering within his gaze. He resumed touching you, digits circling your clit once more.
Within your delicate grasp, his length hardened, your palm finding a careful rhythm. Your hips twitched, rolling into the sensation of his hand. It was heavenly — the way in which he handled you was gallant and gentle. Arousal continued to gather between your thighs, a new and sticky feeling.
Intermingled gasps and groans filled the air, the both of you clinging to one another. Jacaerys leaned forward, mouth seeking yours, the kiss hot and gentle. Between your careful, uncertain strokes along his length and his digits teasing your cunt, the both of you were lost within the throes of passion.
He slipped his other hand underneath your nightgown, with enough leverage to remove it, if he so desired. Jacaerys broke the kiss long enough to ask, chest heaving with heavier breaths. “May I?” He whispered, voice husky and hoarse with lust.
You nodded, maneuvering your arms over your head as your nightgown slipped to the floor, leaving you bare before Jacaerys. The saltwater breeze which fluttered through your quarters left you shivering, both from the brief chill and anticipation.
The awestruck way in which he stared at you left you hot, body feverish beneath his tempered gaze. He kissed your collarbone, eyes warm and affectionate. “You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.” He stated, nearly breathless. His heart was yours — every fiber of his being devoted itself to you.
Smitten beneath his sweetly-spoken compliments, you trailed your fingers throughout his soft curls. The other slyly descended to reach for his cock again, but Jacaerys seemed to place your hand aside. You seemed confused, head canting to one side. “Do you not like it?”
His bemused chuckle filled your chambers, amiable and as warm as a cozy hearth. “Of course I like it,” Jacaerys murmured, kissing along your jaw and neck, holding you as close as he could. “I’d like to focus on you. There’s something that I wanted to try, if you’ll allow it.”
Surprised, you seemed open to whatever he wanted to try. “Anything you want, you will have. It’s yours.” You expected him to put you on your knees or turn you on your stomach. Instead, he coaxed you down onto your back, getting you to lay down as he crawled between your parted legs.
His mouth pressed a string of affectionate kisses along your shoulder and collarbone, beginning to dip lower toward the perky swell of your breasts. You squirmed slightly, uncertain of where this would lead to. You trusted Jace to follow his own instinct.
Your back arched when his mouth graced your breast, pressing kisses all around the pliant flesh. A moan escaped you, signaling your pleasure as he wrapped his lips around one of your nipples, gingerly suckling on the pebbled bud.
“Jace,” You squeaked, one hand flying to his mountain of dark curls, pushing your fingers through. He touched you in a way that evoked a sense of yearning, as if you were the only woman in the realm. His hand kneaded into your chest, a shiver coursing through him whenever you moaned his name. “Please.”
Heat simmered through him, a wave of desire that only seemed to grow in intensity, demanding to be extinguished. Your flesh tasted saccharine upon his tongue, but there was something else he wanted to taste. As he kissed your chest, he released his lips from your breast, continuing his descent.
He kissed you everywhere, reverence seeping into each brush of his mouth as he traversed your body. Jacaerys pressed his lips against your stomach, and then to your hips, palms sliding against your thighs.
A sharp exhale escaped you as he peppered a string of kisses along the inside of your thigh, showering you in little pecks of affection before he flattened himself entirely. You swallowed the lump within your throat; the sight of Jace’s face wedged in between your legs made you shiver, arousal following suit.
Everything was gentle, even the way in which his veined hands gripped the pliant flesh of your thighs to let them rest against his shoulders. He hesitated, allowing you a moment to adjust and steel yourself before he dipped forward, tongue raking hot embers across your cunt.
The singular, experimental stroke of his tongue caused you to shiver, hands curling into fists. If you could melt away into your furs, you would’ve, feeling his mouth press kisses against your core. “Jace,” You whined, attempting to hold still and cease your squirming. “Don’t stop.”
It was all the encouragement he truly needed, digits soothingly caressing along your thighs as he began to lap at your cunt, adopting a pace that was a little less sluggish. He nearly groaned when he felt your hand grasp at his curled tresses, sinking in toward the base of his skull.
In the nighttime gloom of Dragonstone, you found warmth and comfort in one another — affections intensified, and whatever bond you had before was now redefined entirely. Jacaerys loved you, he had never been more sure of himself until now, dutifully bringing about your pleasure.
A myriad of soft whimpers and whines escaped you, hand gingerly tugging on Jace’s hair as he buried his mouth in the apex of your thighs. His tongue vigorously lapped and traced over your core, savoring your taste, committing it to memory. Bathed in moonlight, Jace appeared more ethereal than ever, the muscles flexing within his back.
With slow, eager laps of his tongue, Jacaerys made sure to savor you, letting it flick across your clit. The short, dizzying gasp that tore past your mouth spurred him on, as he pressed another string of kisses against your slit. The continued sensation of your digits carding through his curls made him sigh with elation.
He brought you closer, heart leaping into his throat when you began to writhe beneath him, hips tilting forward into each stroke of his mouth. “You’re perfect,” Jacaerys whispered, ensuring that you could hear it. Soft utterances of High Valyrian were etched into the flesh of your thigh. “Perfect.”
Blossoming beneath his sweet compliments, your fingers curled against his scalp, unable to lay still as Jace resumed his previous ministrations. The warmth of his tongue left you with a blistering want, stomach churning with a wave of arousal.
As he lapped at your clit again, you whimpered, moaning his name as if to keep his attention there. Jacaerys’s tender expression also bore a great deal of concentration, dark eyes flickering toward you. “There?” He uttered, hoping that you would guide him to where he needed to be.
Your head bobbed up and down against the furs, flesh beginning to glisten with the first inklings of perspiration. Everything felt feverishly hot, as if you would be turned to ash where you sat. Jacaerys was attentive and loving, following your breathy plea as he pursed his lips around the pearl of your cunt.
Jace shivered at the sounds you made, enticed by each whimper and moan, every twitch of your body. He suckled on the sensitive bundle of nerves, alternating between that and greedy, vigorous laps of his tongue. He let himself be lost within bliss, arousal mounting from pleasuring you.
You reached for his hand, fingers interlocking atop the swell of your hip as he continued to lap at your aching core. He squeezed your hand as a sign of reassurance, buried deep within your sweet cunt, something that he wanted to have again and again.
He was at your mercy, the heir to the Iron Throne, the Prince of Dragonstone — and you hadn’t the slightest clue. Jace’s brow creased in concentration as he focused on what spots made you squirm the most, continuing to dutifully lap at your clit until your knees trembled.
“Jace,” A needy moan left you, reverberating within the obsidian confines of your chambers. Arousal rushed through you, molten heat oozing from between your thighs, a nectar as sweet as honey. “I—I think I’m close.” You groaned, unsure if it was just the throes of ecstasy or reality.
Nevertheless, you were on the verge of reaching your peak, and you didn’t want him to stop. Instead, you urged his head forward, fingers laced within his dark curls, right at the nape of his neck. Jacaerys groaned in delight, thoroughly enjoying the way you continued to coax him inward — he happily devoured every drop.
With another barrage of his tongue assaulting your cunt, you whimpered, turning malleable within Jace’s hands. He knew that you were on the verge, and so he pursed his lips around your clit once more, and that was more than enough.
His name emerged from your lips like a reverent prayer, the only name that you knew in that moment. Your release was hot, like a rush of fire that didn’t simmer immediately. The residual sensation lingered, and Jace helped you through it.
Your thighs twitched, absentmindedly attempting to clench together, but Jace held you apart, soothing you with kisses along your thighs. The blissful, contented expression that soon followed was a beautiful one — Jace was shocked to know that he could do that to you, bring you to ruin.
His gallant smile gave you pause as you studied the rosy flush within his features, the glistening sheen of your arousal upon his lips. Jacaerys seemed entirely unphased, basking in your aftermath all the same, his curls tousled and disheveled.
“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” Your tone was sheepish, realizing how much you’d tugged at his hair. If it were you, a tender-headed maiden, you would’ve been batting his hand away. Jace’s bemused chuckle caused you to duck your head.
Jace disarmed you with a charming, doting smile and a simple look of those earthen-brown eyes of his, and shook his head. “You could never hurt me,” He replied, his attempt at gentle flirtation. “I worry more for you.” His confession was soft-spoken.
The act of consummation was not intended to be a comfortable one — for a woman, at least. Jacaerys knew to broach this with care, to make sure that you were well enough before all else. He inched forward from between your thighs, resting his head atop your stomach.
He allowed you a moment of composure, feeling your digits trace the lines of his countenance, stroke at his tresses. Jace pressed a string of kisses all around your body, wherever his lips could reach. The moment was incredibly tender, lingering with the tension of a blossoming ardor.
Through the comfortable haze of silence, you cleared your throat, staring down at Jacaerys with what only could be described at a look of complete and utter adoration. He was so kind, so noble and gentle, yet with the fervor of the dragon’s blood, a desire to do good. You felt so fortunate, even moreso when he smiled at you, pressing a kiss to your hip.
“I want you, Jacaerys,” You whispered, watching as Jace began to sit up, letting your legs trap him on either side. “More than I’ve ever wanted anyone else.” It was the hitch within his throat that made you shiver, heart hammering beneath your breast as you began to confess your feelings — it was inevitable.
Jace reveled at the sight of you, naked and glimmering within the moonlit dusk, candlelight bathing your physique in shades of flickering orange. His descent was slow as he covered you with his body, lips parting to allow a shaky exhale before he kissed your brow. “You have my heart,” He uttered, forehead resting against yours. “Everything I am, is yours.”
Your palms moved to cup either side of his face, thumbs caressing along his cheekbones before you smiled, kissing the corner of his mouth. “I am yours.” You assured, your commitment resolute before the Gods — before Jacaerys Velaryon.
It was a poignant moment, one that seemed intermingled with the seriousness of your words, yet still tinged with the youthful excitement of a first love. He kissed you, slow and amorous, full of an unrestrained affection that no longer seemed weighed-down by unspoken sentiments.
“Are you certain that this is what you want?” Jace asked, his voice a soft caress through your haze of kisses. He would not fault you if you wanted to stop now — and he would if you wished it of him. As much as he desired you, he valued your virtue above his own.
“Yes,” You replied, your palms gliding from his soft visage to the taut muscle of his shoulders, lacing your fingers around the back of his neck. “Are you certain, too? I worry that you might regret lying with me.”
Jacaerys shook his head, brows furrowing together to reflect a semblance of disbelief. He reached down to caress your cheek, making sure that you understood every word. “Nothing in the world would ever make me regret this,” He murmured. “I’ve never been more certain about anything before.”
A brief stirring of adoration fluttered within your chest, and you knew that you wanted no one else ever again. You pulled yourself off of the mattress enough to kiss him, sinking into the sweet bliss of the moment as he reciprocated. His mouth moved in-tandem with yours, eyes beginning to flutter shut.
His hands planted themselves into the feathered pillow on either side of your head, but it didn’t last long. Jacaerys leaned back, maneuvering out of the leather of his trousers, flush against you once they were removed. You were so soft, like an ocean of silk beneath him.
He felt one of your legs hitch around his hips, bodies together beneath the furs. The chill of your chambers dissipated, replaced by the warmth of your skin. You kept your hands poised against his shoulders, dancing across the smattering of freckles there as you continued to kiss him, as if each one would be your last.
The hardened swell of his cock pressed against your lower stomach, and you could feel his breath grow heavier between kisses. He was perfect — flawless, so handsome that it made you ache with want.
Jace kissed you again and again, feeling the soft peaks of your breasts brush against his chest. He adjusted his weight, shifted his hips as he pressed the head of his length against your slick cunt. He was somewhat nervous — perhaps not as much as you, but anxious enough. He made sure to be careful, feeling your legs nudge themselves apart.
A look of mutual preparedness passed between you both, between your doe-eyed gaze of anticipation and Jace’s mounting look of want, there was little room left for uncertainty. He sat up enough to position himself against your aching core, his cock splitting past your folds before it prodded at your entrance.
You steeled yourself, and Jace made sure to be slow, afraid of hurting you enough to cause true discomfort. As he tilted forward, his length filled you, sheathing himself inside of you, inch by inch. Admittedly, it wasn’t a good feeling — not initially, anyway.
A sharp exhale escaped you as he bottomed out, staying still atop you as he allowed you time to grow accustomed to him. Waves of complete and utter bliss rolled through him, his own pleasure nearly overwhelming. You were tight, maidenhead intact for the next few moments until he began to move.
“Are you alright?” Jace whispered around the shell of your ear, pressing against you once more as he reassuringly kissed along the side of your face. He felt despicable for causing you any amount of pain, but you seemed to dismiss his concern.
“I am,” You placated him with a smile, coaxing him in for a kiss. It was best if you didn’t think about it — and with time, it would feel better. Everything was awkward and clumsy, the follies of youth, but as Jace began to move, a fire began to burn within your belly. “Jace.” You sighed, keeping your leg around his hips.
A soft groan resonated beside your ear as Jace adopted a sluggish rhythm, not wanting to intensify things so quickly. Your eyes fluttered shut, body content to bend to his thrusts, grow accustomed to the act itself. He reciprocated your kiss, black curls falling in front of his temples.
Bliss soon replaced discomfort, the more you allowed yourself to adjust. You shifted your legs further apart, one hand falling toward his bicep, the other remaining tangled at the nape of his neck. The sounds of your lovemaking soon filled your chambers, with your foreheads pressed together.
Your name fell from his tongue in a needy groan, and it made you shiver, body reacting with a barrage of gooseflesh along your spine. Perspiration grew upon his brow as he maintained his pace, digits curling into the furs on either side of you.
The sound of your pleasured moans made him feel better, a sign that you were no longer riddled with soreness and irritation. Jace pressed a trail of hot, messy kisses along your face, reaching to the sweet spot beneath your jaw. He kept himself anchored there, feeling your hand squeeze at his bicep.
“Jace!” You squeaked, flushed at the growing lewdness of the noises — the squelching, the passionate groans and heavy breathing. He was perfect, cock filling you in a way that left you completely satisfied. Jace felt your hand fall away from his bicep, reaching for his own, interlocked hands falling back against the cushions.
He shuddered, reveling in the way your cunt tightened around him, the sensation of your hand within his hair, hands joined at your side. Jace’s pace began to quicken, but only somewhat, enough to really feel the myriad of pleasure take hold.
You yearned for him in every way imaginable; your body ached with each movement, every thrust as he leisurely moved in and out of you. His cock pulsated with a dull throbbing, enough to fill his belly with a raging fire. He kissed you again, lips traversing wherever they saw fit, peppering every inch of your sweet skin.
Time seemed to move agonizingly slow in your presence — Jacaerys wouldn’t want it any other way. If he could capture this moment, he would’ve. Every moment was graced by a warm intimacy that sank into his very bones, his adoration for you furthered with each roll of his hips, sheathing himself inside of you.
His soft lips graced your collarbone, continuing to make love to you in the only way he knew how. It was passionate and gentle, in a way reserved for the deepest of lovers. Jace grunted when your hips involuntarily rolled upward to grind against him, lips parting as he squeezed your hand.
At last, he lifted his head, your eyes locking together. Your countenance was exceptionally beautiful, especially when painted with the shade of desire, and it had him aching with want. His jaw tensed when you brushed dark curls away from his eyes, palm lingering long enough to pull him down for a kiss.
His cock continued to hit your cunt with a tame fervor, filling you completely, testing your limits as he neared his peak. Jacaerys knew that there would be more moments like these in the future — his energy was waning, and perhaps, the unfamiliarity of it all contributed to this.
Your name spilled from his tongue, throat echoing with a soft groan as his pace became slightly erratic. It was difficult to control himself amidst chasing after his release, but he maintained what little composure he had, gritting his teeth together as he thrust into you again.
Pleasure contorted into ecstasy, becoming an unstoppable wave that was quick to take hold of him. Concentration intermingled with bliss were etched into his features, face pressing against yours, nearly breathless as you kissed him again.
With a groan, Jacaerys rocked forward again, spilling himself inside of you. In hindsight, it was both brazen and feckless, done in the heat of the moment, but he cared little of it for the time being. His cock throbbed, thrusting into you again a time or two before he stilled completely.
Heavy pants resonated between you both as you caught your breath, flush against one another in the aftermath. You pressed a kiss against Jace’s cheek, trailing your fingers throughout his hair. He was quick to kiss you, gathering his composure before he pulled himself out of you.
A rush of sticky warmth slathered the inside of your thighs, leaving behind a feeling of slight discomfort. Jace gathered a cloth for you to clean yourself with, returning to lay beside you as he rucked the furs up around your bodies. The air was colder at nightfall, injected with a saltwater mist.
“I apologize if I hurt you,” Jacaerys uttered, dark brows furrowing together as you wriggled closer, resting your head atop his bare chest. Your arm draped over him, allowing yourself to be close, a feeling that he wanted more than anything else. “It was not my intention.” He kissed the top of your head.
“You didn’t,” You replied, tracing soft patterns against his skin, angling your head up enough to kiss him. Jace cupped your jaw, leaning in to deepen the tender entanglement, lost within the bliss of your lips. “You would never hurt me.”
Jacaerys was fiercely protective over you, that much was true — even from himself. He kept an arm wrapped around you, cradling you at his side as he gazed into your eyes. He could see you, then — his beloved wife, the future Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. Perhaps it was too early to tell, but he knew.
As the both of you settled in together, your maidenhead now lost, you couldn’t help but smile. Jacaerys had made your first experience more than anyone ever could — you hoped that it would stay that way forever. “Does your offer of teaching High Valyrian still stand?” You mused.
A huff of amusement left Jacaerys as he turned his head enough to look at you, a smile playing at either corner of his mouth. “I thought you wanted those dusty old books.” Admittedly, his offering of those damned texts is what started this in the first place — he had to be grateful.
“I knew that you would be kind enough to bring them to me,” You confessed, nose wrinkling in amusement. “An excuse to see you.” The look on Jace’s face was one of theatrical shock, and you erupted into a fit of laughter when he squeezed your hip.
“You might grow tired of me, if I am to teach you High Valyrian.” Jacaerys mused, his smile one of complete and utter warmth. Anyone would know that his love for you was obvious — there wasn’t any subtlety about it.
You shook your head, comfortably sinking against him, your upper body lounging atop him. “I could never grow tired of you, Jacaerys Velaryon.” You exhaled, exhaustion beginning to grip you. It was bound to happen eventually, given the abnormally late hour.
Jace was thankful that you weren’t looking — his face was dusted with a rather obvious layer of pink, and yet, the feeling was beyond satisfying. The two of you allowed the silence to sink through, accompanied by the sound of the encroaching tide as it broke upon the jagged rock and cliff sides surrounding Dragonstone.
“Will you stay?” You asked, hoping that he would be agreeable to it. It was a risky proposition, but Jace knew that he couldn’t leave you after this — he didn’t want to, either. No one would come clamoring about within his chambers at first light.
“Of course,” He murmured, lips twitching into a sweet smile. “Though, I should go at the first light of dawn.” Jace’s tone was one of clear disappointment, but it was best to keep suspicions low. You knew that he had duties that transcended you — he was the Prince of Dragonstone, the heir — and you were not betrothed.
A sense of understanding settled onto your features, but you still wanted him by your side — you wished that you could wake up next to him. “I hope that dawn never comes, then.” You whispered, taking his hand within yours as you pressed a kiss against his palm, knowing that there would be many more dawns to come with him at your side.
copyright @ swordgrace; please do not translate, steal, or copy my works and post them onto other platforms or claim as your own.
On the eve of Halloween your three idiotic friends Mattheo Riddle, Lorenzo Berkshire and Theodore Nott invite you over for an evening of spooky fun watching horror films. However, they don't expect to release a trapped spirit, taking the night for a turn unravelling some longing desires bubbling in the pit between the four of you.
Warnings: NSFW 18+, foursome, throat fucking, dirty talk, swearing, anal, double penetration, PIV, cunnilingus, f! orgasm, multiple m! orgasms, fem reader is possessed by a succumbs, a demon that survives on semen. The bold italics is her thoughts. I got vvv carried away in this 8k fic!!
An: Apologises for posting this almost a month later 'halloween' fic. heads up i've never written a 4some before so I hope this is okay! <3
The thick lining of emerald covered walls do little to quieten the echo from the rowdy shouts of chatter, the sounds encapsulating around you ensuring you heard the group of boys well before you saw them. As usual, the expansive space of the Slytherin’s boy’s dorm accommodated by your three friends, greets you with the resident pungency of boyish charm. The three of them, congested and huddled like bunnies in a tight-knit burrow, are focused entirely on none other than a muggle computer.
Theo and Lorenzo hover closely behind Mattheo’s shoulder, their tall broad frames hunched with intense focus, their eyes glued to the screen, watching with excitement and a hint of fear.
Theo observes with an eagle’s line of sight, mentioning tactics of strategy to Mattheo, with his finger outstretched, pointing towards the pixelated scenery where Mattheo’s character depicted manoeuvres through the haunted maze. On Mattheo’s other side, Lorenzo presses a firm hand upon his shoulder, taking a more aggressive and chaotic tactic. Shouting bollock loads of commentary on the best way to attack the monster.
Which leaves the victim, Mattheo perched on the chair between them, his eyes flickering like a hummingbird’s wings, his brows furrowed frozen as if moulded in cement. His irritation spikes under the growing overstimulation he’s endeavouring, only resulting in another failure. Three loud shrieks fill the room when the monster jumps at the screen, it now flashing GAME OVER as the character succumbs.
A laugh unable to be contained, bellies out from you with pure delight, having watched Theo and Lorenzo almost knock Mattheo clean out of his chair in fright. The sound makes for an unconcealed alert of your presence, the extent of their swearing coming to a halt. “What’s going on here that’s got you three jumping out of your skins?”
They adjust their positions at your arrival, striking nonchalant relaxing poses, each giving you three gestures of hello. “Nothing, nothing, just playing a game.” It’s the eve of Halloween, a stormy night setting the spooky atmosphere - and what better way to spend it watching horror films.
“Not the most feared guys in school scared of a little muggle game?” Instantly the tease in your tone replaces their once friendly expressions with the forming of three scowls and loud resorts of denial brushing off your taunt.
“Uh huh.” You reply sarcastically, letting out a light giggle, shutting the door behind you with a click. The sound of your sweet laugh eases their original annoyance, each of their hearts swooning internally. It didn’t matter that you were making fun of them. It was so light and infectious it had even the toughest of boys’ hearts melting.
“So what movie did we wanna watch?” You ask, removing another layer, tossing it without looking onto one of their unmade beds. The room falls into a comfortable silence and you think nothing of it, assuming they’re deep in thought about your question. With precision, your focus remains entirely on neatly lining your shoes up by their door. Too caught up in the minor details of your perfectionism to notice the lingering brazen glances that follow the way you bend, showing off the fine curve of your ass.
Mattheo, lost in the hypnotisation of sinful exposure, relaxes himself with an overconfident lean on the back feet of his chair. The chair rocks with the unstableness of a stack of playing cards, collapsing out from under him in a sudden thud. The room crackles with the roars of laughter erupting from Theo and Enzo, breaking the peaceful silence.
The loud antics snap your attention and you turn, assessing the situation of Mattheo’s clumsiness, him sprawled with a bitter grimace on the floor. Quirking a teasing smile, you offer a hand down to him. “Still spooked, Matty?”
He brushes off his embarrassment with a roll of his eyes and accepts your hand. The contact is gentle, showing his softened-down self saved for you before his face hardens, shooting a joking glare at his friends to knock it off.
“Very funny. I don’t scare easily, sweetheart.” He scoffs, shrugging off your minor hit, making the others snicker at his response.
“Sure ya don’t.” Giving a mocking nod, you stifle a laugh at his bitter defiance. “Anyway, imma pop to the bathroom. You guys sort something to watch, yeah?” Backing up towards their shared lavatory, emphasizing your words heavily while you point a finger at the three of them as if to address children.
They give you a chorus “Yes ma’am!”, watching your frame vanish behind the wooden door. The second you’re no longer within hearing distance, an agitated sigh released from Mattheo. “Dude, what the fuck-.”
“Don’t look at me. You’re the idiot that fell out of his chair-”
“Please, I was stretching-.“
“-don’t play daft. Your jaw was on the fucking floor.”
Lorenzo’s gaze shifts away from the dispute behind him to the screen exiting the game. He takes the moment in charge to inspect around the muggle device - the three of them had stolen it off one of the pretentious muggle born Ravenclaw’s. Their plan originally to throw it off the astronomy tower for fun had switched when Theo had the curious idea to check it out first. Alas, they stumbled upon the game that had grabbed their attention for the last thirty minutes.
He continues to browse through internet explorer before his brows pull together, chuckling with intrigue. “Ooh what’s this?” Lorenzo interrupts the rambling ongoing behind him, his eyes drawn towards the blaring red picture of a busty girl with devil horns. A Halloween game advertisement that all too easily enhances his attention, luring him in with a magnetic pull.
“Feeling lonely huh Berk, poor Ravenclaw couldn’t satis-oof-the fuck was that for, twat.” Theo releases a low grunt, his tease shut down by the sharpness of Lorenzo’s elbow jabbing into him.
Mattheo smirks amused, leaning back against the four-poster beam, his gaze flickering over Lorenzo’s shoulder with a curious eye. “Don’t do anything stupid, Enzo.”
Enzo grins, looking back at him, “Oh shut the fuck up, I’m the smartest here.”
“I beg to differ.” Theo mutters.
As if to prove Theo right, he’s already clicking on the ad with little to none rationality before the others can suggest better of it. “Enzo, what the hell did you do?!” Theo comments with frustration, watching as the ad fills up the screen, aggressively taking over control.
The computer once fully functional glitches and sparks shoot out the side, smoke ejecting out the back surrounding the machine. “YOU BROKE THE BOX THING!” “I did nothing!” “Bullshit, you fucking clicked that stupid ad-.” “Yeah! It was working perfectly before!” “don’t blame me! It was fucking tits-.” There’s a swat to the back of his head discipling Lorenzo’s greedy eyes, and he scowls bitterly.
During the boys’ argument, electricity surges through the circuits, a powerful force traveling along the wires. Unaware to the boys, they’ve just released a deadly spirit trapped inside the confines of a pornographic ad. A wise and extremely driven succubus Mazien, banished to live out a 10000 years, advertising to sinners the luxurious pleasures of sex. A torturous punishment of watching hundreds, thousands of humans cumming over and over but forbidden to unlock the power of semen shown before her eyes.
As you move to exit the bathroom, you reach to flick the light off, but a surge of electricity vibrates through your body, shocking you. The current of electricity zaps with a powerful blast, hurling you backwards into the wall with a loud thud. The hardness of wood breaks your fall, the violent impact leaving you frazzled as you release a deep groan of achiness.
Silence falls in the bedroom before three shouts of your name call out in panic. A multitude of concerned knocks rat on the door rapidly, wanting your attention, and seemingly only causing your head to throb harder. There’s a moment of weariness in your eyes before a dark glowing red blurs your vision and you pass out.
Holy shit, it worked! It actually worked. Oh my god! I’m free!! A voice rings vibrating inside your head. The sound is so clear yet so distant. Must have hit your head pretty hard if you’re hearing voices. You try to shift and rub it, but the movement doesn’t happen. Your body acting on its own accord.
You lift your hands, examining them as if inspecting the delicacy of them for the first time. They look normal so far as you watch behind a tunneled vision, standing and stretching, your body cracks as though unmoved for a thousand years. The steps to the mirror feel daunting in your apprehension of what you’re about to witness.
And then the voice rings out again, a sultry consciousness that’s loud and overbearing, a voice echoing, pounding around your membrane. Fuck me this girl is hot. I sure know how to pick ‘em.
It’s a woman’s voice, you can tell. Watching with a hypnotized gaze at whose reflection glances back at you in the mirror. You recognize the familiarness of your features, though something lurks behind your usual humanized eyes, and then there’s your abnormal action.
A wicked grin gleams, your tongue running along the line of teeth seductively as you check yourself out. Whoever she is, she’s clearly happy to have possessed you. Possessed right? That’s the only logical explanation for what’s happening. Though nothing about this is logical!
Her body is fuckin fit. Why are her tits not further out…I’ll just mmh uh huh yeah that’s better. With impatient hands, you pull down the fabric of your shirt, exposing far more skin than you would have preferred, fixing it the perfect way Mazien likes. Next your hair. Fingers that usually carry themselves with tender touches threads aggressively ruffling your hair into a disheveled but sexy mess. Observing peculiarly the tactical style Mazien alters your appearance, you lean forwards inspecting your lips, forming a cute pout reapplying the lip gloss found in your pocket.
Another round of thumps slams on the door, stealing your attention, pausing the newfound vainness you’re showcasing. Listening to the murmurs, you register male voices, deep tones that lull your ears, a peaceful heaven. A strong whiff of testosterone fills your senses, the scent gliding under the door engulfing you like a familiar drug. It calls towards you like sweet temptation. Inhaling again with a deep breath, you’re able to identify the redolent of not one but three young oversexed guys.
Gazing back at yourself in the mirror, the reflection projects a gorgeous, overconfident young woman. Beneath the eyes there’s a tinted guard, a hidden panel of glass creating a one sided window that allows a view of Mazien’s perspective of yourself. But deeper there’s an anxious girl watching with uncertainty, feeling as if your heart should beat with a rapid thump on the verge of stopping. Instead, your pulse spikes with ambition and excitement at what awaits. I’m in for a treat.
You’re practically begging through the thickness of your thoughts to communicate and halt her ambitions with whoever the hell is in your body. She doesn’t appear to listen, moving confidently to unlock the door and greet your friends.
They each turn to the door and it’s like a scene straight out of an 80s movie. Three boys stand aghast around a beautiful creation emerging from their wildest fantasies. As if a smoke of cloud had appeared behind you, effortless breaths of wind blowing your hair and a gleaming spotlight captivating your beauty.
You appear normal enough. Flashing them an amused smile, Mazien knows her touch ups to your appearance have worked their magic. Holy fuck, aren’t these boys a sight for sore eyes!
“What? Why are you looking at me like that?” Cocking a curious brow, you step back into the cozy nest of boisterous chaos that now remains a quiet tension. Your tone is sweet, feigning innocence and obliviousness.
They shrug nonchalantly, acting as if they hadn’t all just been drooling over you. Though you’ve always been beautiful, there’s something different about you they can’t quite put their tongue on.
Theo is the first to speak. Clicking his mouth with a low hum, he observes you with his usual intenseness, taking in every detail about you. His lips pull in a calming smile, finding interest in the newfound confidence you’re asserting. “You alright bella?”
Nodding, you grin reassuringly, “yeah I’m perfect, just got a little shock. What happened out here?” Your lips shine under the illuminating lights, enticing their eyes to flutter, taking in the shimmer sparkling on them. Had they always been that pretty, that luscious and full?
Enzo chuckles, brushing off the issue as no big deal. “nothi-“
“Enzo brought a virus onto the machine and broke it.” Mattheo states blankly, happy to shove his friend under the bus.
Muttering a bitter motherfucker under his breath, he turns, defending himself with feigned innocence. “What! I did no such thing!” Looking directly at you with playful cuteness, hoping you’ll believe him.
You’re used to their bickering antics and would normally roll your eyes, but Mazien controlling you is highly entertaining and releases a giggle unlike yourself. It’s not high pitched and cringe like you’d expect. It’s sweet and flirtatious?
You didn’t even know your voice could break a pitch that high, but it grabs the boy’s attention in a new way as they consume the energy, you’re inviting them to match. “Enzo, what did you click on?” You ask with another teasing tone as you sweet talk him.
He bites his lip, trying to appear nonchalant, but he’s beginning to sweat anxiously. They never talk about their sexual desires around you. “Nothing, I just got curious.”
Oh baby boy I know exactly what you clicked on.
Theo, much like Mattheo, finds enjoyment in ripping the rug out from Enzo. “Curious, my ass. Fuckin horny shit.” Theo rolls his eyes, hiding the smirk at his friend. His tone is low, but you’re able to make out what he’s saying with Mazien’s heightened hearing.
Pouting with feigned confusion, your brows crease, crossing your arms, projecting your tits to compress. “Horny? What did you click on?”
A slight flush threatens its way up Lorenzo’s neck, and Theo and Mattheo snicker at his embarrassment. Mattheo speaks up, throwing an arm around your shoulder, “nothing to worry your pretty head about y/n, let’s just watch the movie yeah.” He speaks reassuringly with comfort that the usual you would embrace, but with Mazien inside your veins, she wants a little fun.
“Oh, I don’t know if I’m feeling that anymore.” Your eyes linger on Enzo as if checking him out. “Not if Enzo’s feeling a little… hot.”
Lorenzo’s flush finally breaks the surface, adoring his skin a deep red, and he laughs, stretching his arms awkwardly. He’s not entirely sure how to react, but one glance at your tantalizing gaze and he suddenly grins with an idea. “Oh yeah idk if I can focus on anything right now with all this going on.”
Mattheo and Theo share looks of confusion, “dude wtf.”
“It’s okay.. I don’t mind helping Enzie out. It is Halloween, after all. You all deserve a treat.” Grinning with satisfaction, you move in front of the three of them. Mazien inspects the difference in their sizes and yourself. It’s not extreme, but it still has your mind spiraling at the strength they could inflict on you, enthusing her of what’s coming.
“Treats?” They repeat their ears tuned in like dogs, the three of them tilting their heads with uncertainty, sharing curiosity with one another. There’s no logical explanation for how you’re acting right now and their minds tick like time bombs trying to unravel the mystery of your sudden change in behavior .
Despite their brutal confusion, there’s something lingering under the surface, an itch desperate to be scratched. You’ve all been friends since first year, a strong friendship held together by the bonds of trauma, pranks and overall deep respect. The strings threaten to loosen with the suggestion, and their weakening control slips with sexual interest at the opportunity you’re possibly offering them.
No way they’re actually buying into this? Course they are, sweetheart. These horn dogs may be your friends, but they want to fuck you all the same. Mazien addresses you suddenly through your mind. Is she on your side?
“Yeah, something with a sweet kick.” Your finger taps lightly under each of their chins, walking past them individually, holding their undivided attention. “A little tang that will tickle my tastebuds.” Until you stop in front of lucky boy number one, Enzo.
His brows furrow at the delicate caress of your hand cupping his jaw, having no time to react as your lips press with an eagerness onto his. A small moan leaves your lips and Enzo’s shock melts instantly away, replaced by a hungry desire kissing back forcibly. His tongue is already diving greedily and getting lost in the sensation of this fantasy. The kiss is messy, and your hands roam over his sides getting excited at his lusted participation.
Theo and Mattheo share a look with one another, not quite believing the sight presented before them. You’re making out with Enzo right in front of them. Their jaws are practically on the floor. You pull back grinning a seductive look letting out a flirtatious giggle. You look over at Theo and Mattheo. “Aw, are you boys feeling lonely?”
You move quicker than usual, the sexual endurance from Enzo’s kiss fueling your energy levels within. Colliding your lips against Mattheo, the energy eccentric with lust, your fingers threading into the depths of his locks with a force that entices a groan from his throat. Like Enzo’s, it’s messy, his hands sliding around your frame, pressing you up against him. You reach searching for the third boy, looping your fingers through Theo’s pant hoops and guiding him towards you with dominance as you switch to smashing your lips onto his instead.
The initial shock vanishes as quickly as it arose, the three of them falling into their usual sexual confidence in the bedroom. Mattheo’s fingers skillfully meander, assimilating every nook and grove of your body, his lips finding their place opposite Enzo as they graze feverish kisses on either side of your neck. Both determined to taint the sensitive tissue with prideful marks, while Theo ensures you feel his dominance just with the force of his tongue. A mass of moans meshing amongst the three of you in sexual pleasure.
This is too easy! I’ll have these boys cumming in no time.
Tilting your head backwards from Theo, you relish the breath of air that fills you, releasing a satisfied hum at Mattheo and Lorenzo’s actions, forming goosebumps along your skin. Small moans stumble from your needy, enfeebled state, your heartbeat fluttering with rapid thumps down to your core. You close your eyes, caught up in the bliss caging both boy’s lips to your neck, Theo watching with a darkened look in his eye. The pure sounds you utter breathlessly send vibrations straight to their aching groins, the sultriness in your voice blurring their minds in a foggy cloud, a sight they never imagined experiencing.
The way you carried your confidence in everyday life was nothing compared to the level of seduction present, hooking into their skin with a tight hold. Just like a fish limping out of water, there was no use in struggling for air. You already had your hand on their throats and they invited the feeling in. It’s unlike anything they’d expect from you, the total bliss adorning upon your face with poise, hypnotizing them lustfully.
Their pants tightening doesn’t go unnoticed and you smirk arrogantly. “Aw, are we feeling a little tense, boys?” Rotating to align yourself in the center of their angled legs, you lower down onto your knees. Fingers lined with yearning graze up the lengths of Mattheo and Enzo thighs, inching up the innermost part towards their dark cravings. “Well, what are you waiting for? Whip out those pretty cocks.”
The lewd words that glide from your pretty lips short-circuits their brains, a part of them convinced this is a weird connected dream the three of them are sharing. They all start speaking at once, revealing their reactions, looking hesitant, wondering who will be the first brave soldier to succumb.
“Merlin sake…” “fuckin hell who knew you were such a slut y/n-“ “are you insane!? I’m not getting my cock out in front of these two idiots!” “Aw feeling shy huh Mattheo?” “Dont be such a puss-” “Hey! Shut the fuck up before I shut it up for you.”
“Ah ah ah boys!” Grabbing their attention with a few claps, the sound loud and commanding as you tut at them. Your hands climb their way up Theo’s long trousers, gazing with lustful wide eyes between the three of them. It’s an unholy sight driving Mazien mad while you watch paralyzed within your mind at the scene about to unfold.
It’s alright baby, we’ll convince them to sit tight.
Biting your lip, your head tilts innocently. “First one to show me their cock gets to fuck me. You do wanna fuck me don’t you boys?” The mocking undertone rolls of your tongue pleasantly, and your heartbeat spikes a heated desire growing within.
The silence is deafening, your promise hanging in the air within each of their grasps. With lightning speed, they quickly loosened their belts, synchronised and lower their trousers. You giggle, eating up their neediness. The more desperate, the better they’ll cum.
Your eyes light up, analyzing the three different dicks presented in offering towards you. Theodore stands to your right and even with a brief look, it’s easily the biggest out of the three. The sight creates erotic images thinking about it filling you up. Mattheo standing in the middle pumps his own, his fingers gliding along the thickness, a protruding vein catching your eye. Last, Lorenzo’s pink tip gleams and your eyes take in the slight curve of his length, mouth watering at the view.
The slow, excruciating moment of your appreciation is short-lived as they grow restless under your tantalizing gaze. Mattheo, never one to show patience, reaches first his hands, diving into your hair and tightly pulling you towards him. “You got what you wanted, so don’t get shy now.” Gladly, you open your mouth, allowing him to glide his cock inside.
A deep sigh falls from his luscious lips, moaning a quiet, “f-fuck.” Your lips slide along his length, sucking with determination, hollowing your cheeks. Resting a hand on his thigh, you bob, inching further down causing your mouth to salivate. Pulling off, ignoring his protest, you spit the newly created drool in both hands, taking a hold of Theo and Enzo’s dick pumping them.
You can feel the way your pussy clenches, desperate for this fantasy coming to life. A surge of energy fills the air, like a switch being flipped, and you know you’ve lost control. Theo and Enzo rest their hands on your head, encouraging you to take Mattheo’s cock further. The force of their hold makes you gag around Mattheo’s dick, moaning out.
A shared degrading laugh falls collectively. “Aw look, she’s taken you so well Matt.”
“For such a small mouth she sure can fill herself well.”
“Fuck..cant wait to see her really stuffed.”
Mattheo’s hips thrust with vigorous strength, ensuring he grazes the back of your throat. “Oh-h yeah baby like that. Look at that a total fuckin slut taking me so well.”
“Never thought I’d see the day she was choking on one of our dicks.” Lorenzo smirks, highly entranced by the tears pooling in your eyes threatening to spill with each buck of Mattheo’s hips.
It’s only a few seconds later and oxygen is being welcomed back into your lungs before being stolen by the tight hold that Theo redirects your head towards his brightening, reddened tip. Mattheo releases an exasperated, audible protest. “What the fuck are you doing?!”
“You’re fuckin hogging her.” Replacing where your mouth once occupied on Mattheo’s cock with your enthusiastic hands. Theo groans, enjoying the way your jaw relaxes in order to accommodate for his size. “That’s it baby, take it a little more.”
Your hand falls from Enzo’s grasp as he retreats, moving around behind you, pressing the heat of his chest to your back. A desperate caress of his hands covers your body, sliding up to massage your tits from behind and he whispers grazing your ear, “so perfect. Gonna let me do whatever I want?”
Eyes still glued to Theo’s deepened frown, his low tone muttering curses in Italian, making you moan at the visionary sight. You give a small nod, lips still around his cock at Enzo’s words.
Your knees lift, assisting Enzo in ridding the tedious barrier of your shorts and panties before elevating your ass for him. “You two are missing out. This is the real treat.” Your mind flutters in a flurry as Enzo slides his tongue along your slit in one long, tortuous tease. His hands take hold of your thighs, pushing them apart with a nudge of his knee.
Erupting a squeal, you moan around Theo’s cock. “F-fuckin hell bella, Enzo keep doing that she’s lovin it.” Theo commands his hand, pulling tighter on your hair. “Oh yeah..yeah like that.”
Mattheo, who’s still bristling at the stolen blowjob attention, releases a shaky breath, attempting to contain his jealousy. Antsy he slides a hand under the top of your tank, groaning when greeted by the bare flesh of your tit. He squeezes urgently, fingers swallowing your skin in his grasp, enticing breathless gasps.
Waves of hot pleasure course along your veins under the weight of the boys’ touches and their vocal displays of gratification. The sensations enhance your arousal, greedily devoured by Enzo spreading your cheeks further apart to dig deeper, sucking at the new douse of wetness.
Holy shit! I can feel how much you love this sweet girl. You wanna cum so badly, don’t you? Mazien laugh echoes inside your head.
From your backseat position, you can feel the way your body is reacting to everything happening. It’s an insatiable feeling experiencing it all while being unable to control your body or actions. Every nerve heightened as if lit by the fires of hell. Your legs tremble under Lorenzo’s grip, weakening your stature, your head spinning with nauseating need.
You don’t have time to feel embarrassed when you are under the control of Mazien. If anything, you feel grateful. She senses that and releases Theo’s cock from your mouth, replacing it with your hand again, smirking at your thoughts.
Holding both Mattheo’s and Theo’s cocks, you pump them, angling their tips towards your mouth, waiting with your tongue sticking out eagerly. They grunt, their shoulders touching, standing close in order to have the right position for you. You watch how their brows crease, frustrated with pleasure, both their hands holding your hair with iron grips for stability.
You moan at Enzo’s relentless pace in eating you out, his tongue bringing endless attention towards your clit. The skillful flick of his tongue overwhelming the bundle of senses and your legs convulse, squeezing his head.
You can tell they’re both being stubborn, competing against one another for your praise at who can hold out the longest. You swirl your tongue, licking the tips of both their cocks as one, not caring if they find it awkward. “You’re close aren’t ya..come on boys cum for me.”
“Jesus mate, just fucking cum already.” Mattheo smirks between breaths and moans.
“Be my guest Riddle.” Theo grunts, his breath equally ragged, “M-maledetto.”
You roll your eyes at their bickering, continuing to press your ass up, grinding back on Enzo’s blissful face, his hands digging into your cheeks, likely bruising the skin. These boys are so cute, they wanna please us so badly. Deciding their competitiveness is starting to delay the process of Mazien getting what she needs, you give them a glorious offer. “Whoever cums first gets my ass.”
Eyes widening with lust, Mattheo is quick to cum, the idea of getting to be the first one to fill your tight sacred hole, pushing him over. His hands grip your hair, tugging with a force to ensure your mouth envelops him once more, not allowing you to miss every shot of fluid that jets tainting your tongue.
Instantly you’re hit with the nostalgic tang of salty cum. It coats your throat like a refreshing elixir hydrating your body after a drought. The taste satisfying glides with ease at your natural mechanism to swallow. Pulling back with a happy pop, you hum heavenly at the first batch. Oh yeah, this is exactly what I need.
Theo scoffs a laugh, redirecting your focus back onto his aching cock. “God, Matt always has been an ass man, haven’t you?”
Mattheo’s head still tilted back pants with a blissful expression coating his face, eyes still closed. “Of course it’s the best hole.” When he regains his breath, he squats down, pulling your shirt down and releasing your tit. “Sweet tasty of victory, god these fucking tits y/n.” He mumbles, taking a mouthful of your nipple, swirling his tongue around it, squeezing the other in a circular motion.
Sensing the arrival of your orgasm, you squeeze Theo’s cock, needing something to grip, your eyes closing with pleasure etched on your face continuously muttering moans. Enzo increases his pace, diving his tongue further inwards, lapping with the intensity of a starved man. Mattheo and Theo hold you still, preventing your body from squirming as you try to both escape and embrace the pleasure.
He moans, talking you through your climax. “So pretty for’me, that’s it sweetheart soaking my face.” The overstimulation pushes you over the brink, causing the sickly downpour of cum to drench Enzo’s sweet lips. A deep glottal groan ricochets against your clit spurring a high mew, making him chuckle, swallowing your juices with happiness, not bothered about himself not orgasming yet.
Theo’s hips jut at the peak of his own orgasm, his hands felicitously press a hand to the back of your head, warranting you can’t pull back, making you take the entirety of him. Oh this boy has a load on him. I’ll swallow it all!
Your eyes prick once again, your throat constricting around the depth of his length, snuggly emptying himself with broken groans. You love it, eyes gleaming with a lively sparkle, being used exactly how you need to be. I can feel it working already! But they don’t look down, always have more room for semen.
Mattheo continues his attack, sucking along the tops of your cleavage, relishing in the coughs of air you take in Theo’s release. You clean the access of the drool from the corners of your mouth, resting your chin atop of Mattheo’s head for support. He eats up every gasped whimper you elicit as he plants hickies along the sides of the tissue.
Theo doesn’t hesitate to push him out of the way again. “Quit marking her like she’s yours. Move her on the bed.”
Mattheo scowls at his scolding, frowning at Theo’s audacity. “Who put you fucking in charge?”
“I think I get a little credit for lasting the longest.” Theo smirks “isn’t that right, bella?”
You lean back into the comfort of Enzo’s lap, his burly thighs acting in support for your feeble state. Enzo’s arms scoop under yours, lifting and pulling you up and onto the bed, letting you lay fully down. “No need to fight, plenty to go around.” Watching Theo and Mattheo advance you smirk with a desired appetite.
Enzo hastily lifts you up to release your tits from the confines of your tank and a chorus of groans fills the room, watching with darkened eyes at how your tits bounce, recoiling from the action. Enzo peers overtop, muttering huskily mostly to himself, “Fuck me, she came over not even wearing a bra.”
“Yeah figured that when I had my one out in the ope-”
“Piss off Riddle I couldn’t fuckin see.” Enzo rolls his eyes with deep irritation at the amused smug Mattheo shoots him. He redirects his attention down to you, flicking his eyes over the relaxed state your breasts fall, rising with each shallow breath you release.
He cups a hand under your jaw, tilting it backwards to capture your gaze, giving you a filthy cheek of a grin. Even upside down, he looks handsome as ever, adorned with the glistening remains of yourself on his pretty lips. His eyes hold contact with you, foreheads pressed together intimately as he lowers down, replicating the spiderman kiss.
His lips move with rushed intensity, tongues tangling with one another, transferring yourself onto your tongue, dirtying your taste. It’s a filthy delicious flavour, rendering you weak with feeling. Mazien doesn’t mind either, relishing in the taste of yourself on your lips. Oh sweet baby you taste absolutely sinful.
Her words only add to the heat scorching your body, an itch under your skin being scratched delightfully and you moan pressing further into Enzo’s kiss. Cupping his cheek, your nails scratch into his scalp, keeping him perfectly in place.
Mattheo and Theo roll their eyes, watching Lorenzo’s seduction tactics and crawl up on either side of you, latching a mouthful to each one of your breasts. Their styles differ from one another, Mattheo’s tongue circling and grazing his teeth over the sensitive nipple. While Theo flattens his tongue with slowness, pressing thousands of tender kisses across the surface. The combination of three tongues on your body has you squirming, overwhelmed by such sensations.
Oh sweetheart these boys are gonna wreck you and I’ll eat it all up deliciously.
The air is sultry with thick desperation, suffocating the room, creating tension and competition between the two boys. In the battle of ascending on who can reach your needy cunt begging for attention first, Theo and Mattheo butt heads, both of them groaning in frustration and pain. You close your legs, their useless coordination at working together irritating Mazien, making you pause pulling away from Lorenzo’s kiss, resting up on your elbows to scold them.
“I think it’s time Enzo gets his treat and you two take a seat on the bench.” With a press of a heel planting onto each of their chests, the powerful shove tumbles them back off the bed, a look of surprise overcoming them at your sudden strength.
“The fuck-” “when did she get so strong?!”
Enzo listens to their protests with a smug grin, his lips move, peppering your neck with starved kisses. Of course, his sweet boy antics of worshiping you instead of prioritising himself have paid off in the long run.
“Stay down there and watch.” The command uttered out of your mouth has them feeling weak, the tone so dominant they feel no other option but to obey. Theo mutters, rolling his eyes irritably, “fottuta stronzata! Why am I being punished for his idiocy?”
Mattheo scowls at him. “You were equally involved. It was your fat head that bumped mine!”
Lorenzo lets out a raunchy wolf whistle, his eyes lighting up as you bend, leaning forwards, arching your back and ass up for his pleasure once again. The angle allows you to continue peering down at the two excluded boys in front of you, smirking as you gaze hungrily at their throbbing and erect cocks. Theo and Mattheo quit bickering, watching with sulky eyes, swallowing desperately for a taste they crave now made to wait for.
“Which hole do you want, Enzo?”
Enzo’s hands caress your backside, roaming over your heightened skin, putting in the effort to rub his hands captivatingly over the delicacy of your body boasting to the others. His eyes flicker from their pathetic faces, cracking a grin down to the way your body shivers under his teasing touch, unable to believe the alluring view before him. He leans pressing his chest against your back, whispering with a heated hoarse breath, “I wanna fuck that pretty ass of yours.”
Subconsciously you scream, feeling yourself panic, never having experienced anal before, but Mazien only laughs, getting excited about feeling your tight body stretched out by the attractive boy. Relax sweetheart, he’s gonna take such good care of us.
Mattheo watches with a grumpy and unpleasant expression, groaning with disappointment at the current outcome despite your earlier promise. His fallen face makes you giggle at the trickery and deceptiveness played on the poor boy and you whisper to him, “Patience is a virtue, Matty.” The irony of your words having you mentally scoffing, coming from the sinful lips of the demon in control. Your attention redirects back to Enzo, moaning as you spread your legs for him, allowing him to settle with easier comfort between them.
He grabs his wand and casts an extra lubricating incarnation, rubbing his thumb, circling it over your hole. Lightly pressing inwards, he applies bit by bit more pressure getting you ready for him. Wet, fervent kisses press urgently to your lower back as he continues to tease before sliding a finger in. The motion stalls your breath, short sharp exhales falling as you moan at the sensation. He grins, thrusting his finger slowly in and out, adding another digit mumbling, “good girl..that’s a good girl gettin ready for me yeah?”
He smirks, biting his lip, his eyes not leaving the way your hole expands and breathes him in, and he gives his cock a quick pump. His composure remains calm and excited, though he’s barely holding it together wanting to get a move on already. He slides his fingers out, gathering your slick along your wet clit, spreading it over his cock before rubbing it against your hole. He goes slow grunting, edging his tip in.
Moaning at the burning stretch, you smile getting giddy as his length glides slowly but surely bottoming you out. You scream, but it’s only inside your head, never having encountered something so fulfilling before. Feels so good doesn’t it? Wait till we get him, filling us up with his load.
There’s no air left for you to inhale, your stomach tight with suspense, every nerve prickling with a fiery sensation. Your muscles convulse and you grip the sheets with an iron grip, your eyes rolling back. A deep gasp finally leaves your mouth, staying ajar as you focus on the stimulation of Enzo’s cock inching further in. The sight is mesmerizing for Mattheo and Theo, who gaze with blown pupils, their own hands pumping their cocks.
“F-fuck mate isnt that the sexiest thing you’ve ever seen.”
“Mi farà venire prima ancora di entrare dentro di leiiii.” Theo responds with a shaky groaning breath, his eyes not leaving your orgasmic face, his lip pulled between his teeth.
Mattheos brows furrow both from pleasure and confusion, “dude I can’t fucking understand you-”
“Would you two shut up, the both of you are ruining my fuck.” Enzo grits out through his ecstasy. The last thing he needs when pounding your ass is their annoying fucking voices in his head. His grasps on your hips tighten with such intensity he’d break glass if holding it, his hips finally pick up pace continuously sliding in and out of your tight hole. “Fucking hell, you like that pretty girl?”
He spanks your ass when you struggle to find an answer, and a sprawl of moans mumble tumbling out, blocking your efforts to think. Managing out some small words of affirmation, you answer “Holy shit!! Yes! Oh my god enzooooo.”
It’s almost like your conscious self is slipping through to express the effect they’re having on you. Four gorgeous lustful eyes watch with parted mouths how your tits swing, bouncing with each thrust, their pretty cocks glistening swollen under the dim lights.
God, you feel that! He’s going sooooo fast. He’s gonna cum soon.
Enzo grunts, his head hanging slightly mumbling incoherent words, “fuck..oh yeah hmm.” He lands another smack to your backside, propelling you forwards by the force, your head smashing into the mattress. “godd, look at her. My cock looks so good pushin in your tight hole baby ugh.” His hands lather over your blushing ass and spread your cheeks, getting a clearer look.
You whine erotically, biting your lip as the breath continues to be knocked out of you. Oh my god! Oh my god! The praise chants are around your mind and Mazien just laughs in response. You’re calling out to Theo before you can register what her plans are. “Theo honey c’mere.” He reacts, standing up quickly, entranced by the desperateness laced in your tone. Eager to escape out of timeout, that was definitely, in his opinion, all Mattheo’s doing.
“Enzo lay back for a sec,” you pant out to him, sitting up as Theo approaches the side of the bed, your eyes gazing up marveling at the Italian hunk in front of you. Enzo moves, rocking back on his ass with deep restraint, having felt moments away from breaking. What are you doing? Why is Theo joining in already? Relax baby, it’s okay.. you can handle it.
When you direct Theo to lie in front of you with the flick of your hand, Mattheo is quick to his feet too, protesting, “Wait hey what about me goddamit! Enzo, you’ve been in her enough.” Mattheo growls impatiently like a little brat. He maneuvers around to the side of the bed, shooting daggers at Enzo.
Enzo gives him an incredulous look, “wait your fucking turn.”
“I’ve been waiting!” He’s complaining as if you’re not even in the room, “dude just let me fuck.”
Theo, whose only focus is on you and receiving his turn, caresses your body with his touch of dominance, guiding you without a word to hover over him. He grips his cock with shaky breaths, lining it with your entrance, “Gonna fuck you so good tesoro.” A promised whisper for only you to hear.
While he ignores Mattheo’s childish tantrum, he notices your attention averted and commands with a cool tone of authority. “Eyes on me y/n.” His hands cradle your head with a demanding force, the two of your eyes meeting, and he flashes that charming grin. He licks his lips, guiding your hips to lower, allowing your pussy sinking onto his tip. “That’s it..fuck.”
He rocks his hips up, edging in slowly, feeling the pulsing of your warm walls eagerly attempting to drive him in. Theo fills you completely, offering hoarse praises, “Yeah baby…yeah so good taking it all.”
His thrusts become more erratic, fucking up into your cunt, making you release loud moans, your hands claw gripping exceedingly at his arms. The sweet movement of your hips roll, riding him as much as you can.Your ass aches at the emptiness while Mattheo and Enzo continue their bickering and a deep, wanton whine releases, alerting Enzo of your desperate need.
Enzo growls at Mattheo’s bickering, redirecting his cock to slide back inside your ass. “Dude shut the fuck up I’m about to cum.” His voice is strained and broken as he continues his pace. “F-fuccck y/n this ass.”
Mattheo, though irritated, can’t tear his eyes away from how you’re taking both of them, its pure filth. Your mind is a messy blur under the weight of ecstasy, the filling of both their cocks stuffing you. “Yeah yeah, you like taking both our cocks, baby?” Theo mumbles, groping a hand up at your tits, his other arm tightly wrapped around your waist to help guide you along his length.
“Yesyesyesyes…oh my god.” Incoherent mumbles slip out amongst your breathless groans.
Enzo doesn’t last much longer, his head falling, dropping onto your back and with a broken moan he cums. The hot jets of semen spurted deep inside your ass sends a static of power along your body, energizing you and making Mazien squeal. Oh fuck yeah! Fuck this is exactly what I need!
Lorenzo pulls back, resting against the headboard, and watches through lidded eyes as your movements on top of Theo grow quicker and faster. Mattheo, not one to wait around, moves laying down on the bed commanding Theo. “Move her on top of me, Nott.”
In one swift motion, Theo rolls effortlessly, lifting your body up with the ease of a feather, shifting you on top of Mattheo, letting your ass bottom out once more by his throbbing, aching cock. “Salazar fucking shit-“
You moan at his girth, stretching you out before Theo readjusts himself, finding his comfort back inside your pussy. Mattheo shifts, wrapping an arm around your throat as he whispers in your ear, “fuck- ah - thought you could cast me aside sweetheart?” A low throaty chuckle vibrates against your back and you squirm as Theos pace picks up. “I’m gonna bury Enzo’s cum in you so deep it’s going to be dripping out of you for weeks to come”
The combination of both their cocks stuffing you make your body quiver, shaking with desire, your hands scraping, gripping Theo’s arms. Mattheo’s hips hardly move, but he doesn’t need to, as just the fulfilling feeling of his cock buried inside your snug ass is making your mind a fuzzy blur. He uses his free hand to play with your tits, squeezing, pinching at the nipple, making your head lean back into the crook of his neck.
Enzo watches lazily, his mind going in and out of consciousness, feeling drained. He rubs his cock tiredly, enjoying your sweet whimpers as he closes his eyes. Body slick with sweat, the air hot with lust, your eyes squeeze shut tightly, the sensations overwhelming you and you know you’re on the verge of breaking.
You’re the first to cum for the second time, squeezing and drenching Theo’s cock with an almighty force, your body shakes pressing further down onto Mattheos’ cock and he groans a deep guttural sound in your ear that reaches the depth of your soul.
Theo is next but not without making you experience a new sense of pleasure, leaving a lasting impression as he bends your legs driving hard before he releases staining your stomach in his cum.
Gasps of panting echo around, and while the real you feels wrecked completely mentally, your body feels alive. It’s thrumming, stimming with sexual energy as it absorbs the large ejaculations of cum. It seeps into your body and you giggle excitedly. Oh god, those boys sure know how to fuck.
Mattheo’s ears pick up on your too relaxed giggle for someone who was just whimpering from overstimulation and he grabs your waist, thrusting up from underneath you, as the last one left inside you. He reached a hand, rubbing at your clit, needing to make you cum just once, for his ego. “Come on baby..give me my fucking treat.”
The sensation is so overwhelming, having both Theo and Enzo still watching with greedy carnal eyes as Mattheo makes you fall apart again so quickly, squirting with a high-pitched squeal. Back arched, ass pressed down harder on his cock, you whine moaning, “omg omg omg.” Even Mattheo is struggling to keep his composure and cums shortly afterwards. He gently lifts you off him before pumping his cock, squirting his cum over the curves of your ass.
The room is hot, filled with the smell of sex and sweat, sin tainted everywhere, as your body lies exhausted on the bed. Dirty, sticky heavenly semen sprayed over your body like art on a canvas. The three boys pant, sharing a look amongst each other at what the hell just happened.
A crossing of your friendship, their eyes tainted with temptation and lust despite their exhaustion. And yet Mattheo speaks up again, noticing your spent expression as he leans down closer to you. “Don’t think next time you get to stay in charge sweetheart” Fuck again!? Might just have to keep this girl.
THE RAIN HAS AN EDGE
╰ ﹙ ☁️ ﹚ft. park sunghoon ﹕ a oneshot ﹙ preview ﹚
you are the girl with an umbrella on a rainy day, and sunghoon is the boy at the bus stop drenched from head to toe.
in a nutshell ﹒ there’s a heavy downpour so you hold an umbrella over sunghoon and he looks at you like you’re crazy // 100% fluff
word count ﹒ preview is 1.5k; full ver ~6-7k
fic one of the chasing rainbows series ﹙ coming soon ! ﹚
“true, the sun and the wind inspire. but the rain has an edge. who, after all, dreams of dancing in the dust? or kissing in the bright sun?” — cynthia barnett
now playing ﹒ paris in the rain﹙ lauv ﹚
THE FIRST TIME you talk to park sunghoon, it’s raining, it’s cold, and jake had ditched you to “hang out” with chaewon, because he’s a crappy friend who pounces at any opportunity for female attention.
after your study session in the school library finishes, you find yourself standing at the school’s front entrance, grimacing at the downpour of rain in front of you. heavy pellets pummel from the sky like bullets, forming puddles in the divots of the ground and lowering the temperature enough to make you shiver.
lucky for you, you remembered to bring your umbrella.
this was a habit of yours even on the sunniest of days, after spending five days bedridden with a fever following The Great Downpour of 2020.
when you reached for your backpack and unfurled your umbrella, it sprung to life and off you went, hopping down the cement paveway that led to the nearest bus stop.
you’re just about to slip in your earphones when you stop in your tracks, spotting a figure a few steps ahead of you.
the person is crouching on the ground at the bus stop, hunched over and hugging their bookbag in an attempt at gathering warmth.
the person is drenched and miserable.
and practically radiating angst and despair.
because you’ve always been a totally (impulsive) caring and selfless person, you shuffle over and hold your umbrella over the person’s head.
they look up — and just when you encounter a cold gaze, dark brows and raven hair — you realise that the moody figure is none other than park sunghoon.
park sunghoon, the ridiculously good-looking senior everybody whispers about but doesn’t actually know anything about.
park sunghoon, the guy who always wears a stoic, unsmiling expression that makes him the most unapproachable of his group of friends.
and park sunghoon, the one who’s staring at you with a baffled and slightly distrustful expression on his face.
oh.
you’re just standing here, staring at him like a creep.
crap.
you should say something.
you open and shut your mouth a few times, trying to brainstorm what you might possibly say. you want to sound smart. and funny. and cool. so, naturally, the first thing that comes out of your mouth is a very intelligent and super profound, “it’s, uh. . . raining.”
sunghoon continues to stare, his brows slightly furrowed to suggest he was questioning your sanity.
“it’s raining,” you stupidly repeat louder, as though he hadn’t heard you over the rain.
“good catch,” he replies, his gruff voice coinciding with the slight dip of his lips.
the rumors are so true.
sunghoon definitely has a very grumpy, rather angsty demeanour. you’ve actually spotted him around school a few times (you may or may not follow him with your eyes every time he’s around. is that a crime? it can’t be! you’re not the only one in the student body who finds him extremely attractive and painfully enigmatic), but he’s not the kind of person you can approach so easily.
in fact, he’s been coined the nickname ice prince for a reason.
“yes, uh,” you struggle to string together a coherent set of words, especially because he stands to his feet now, and you have to make the effort to not be intimidated by his height.
“what i meant to say is that it’s raining but you don’t have an umbrella,” you laughed awkwardly, wanting to whack your head and yell stupid, stupid, stupid for impulsively waddling over here and saying stupid things to park sunghoon of all people. “i-i mean, obviously it’s a free country and you can totally do whatever you want, but, as you might already know — and i’m sure you do because you’re one of the smartest kids in school — standing in the rain can get you sick, like, really sick, and i only know this because about three years ago i forgot my umbrella and — funny story — i ended up getting so sick that i had to take five days off school because my fever was so high.”
oh god.
you quickly slap the tips of your fingers over your lips to physically restrain yourself from talking. the motion makes sunghoon’s gaze quickly flit to your lips, before they bounce back up to your eyes.
his stare is so painfully emotionless that you cringe inwardly.
you wish he’d say something.
anything. literally anything.
but he’s silent.
well, of course he is — you basically just trauma dumped about your stupid fever story. boo-hoo, you were sick from the rain — who cares?
just when you think you’ve reached the death of the conversation, you’re surprised by the sound of his soft voice.
“. . . niki.”
huh?
you blink, leaning in slightly so that you can hear him better.
“. . . niki. my brother. he took the last umbrella.”
oh.
your lips form a small o as you nod in understanding. “oh, niki! that doesn’t surprise me. he’s in my class, you know, and he’s always playing pranks on our teacher. one time he actually hid the test papers so we got a whole extra day to study,” your voice lowers to a whisper, “can’t believe i still failed it though. . .”
sunghoon doesn’t say anything, and afraid of being submerged in awkward silence again, you rush to fill in the space.
“so where’s niki now?”
he shrugs. “soccer practice, probably.”
“oh,” you frown. “wait, aren’t you part of the soccer team, too? you’re the goalie. you saved so many goals last season and helped the team to their first win in two years,” you say, though your eyes widen in panic as soon the words leave your mouth, “n-not that i’m a stalker, or anything,” you frantically add, “it’s just that everyone knows you’re the goalie because one, it’s common knowledge, and two, the game is coming up and we’re all on the edge of our seats to find out how it goes!”
stupid stupid stupid.
why are you rambling so much?
sunghoon doesn’t seem to mind, though his lips flatten in a rather sour manner. “i quit the team, actually.”
you gasp. “you’re the person jake is replacing? he’s been so cocky ever since it was announced that he’d be on the team. what made you quit?”
he shrugs, “it got boring,” he mumbles, then his ears turn slightly red and he dips his head in an emotion you never imagined park sunghoon could wear — embarrassment. “and i accidentally sprained my ankle.”
you blinked in surprise. “how?”
he hesitates before answering. “i tripped.”
you stifle a laugh at the irony, because while sunghoon was a lot of adjectives — tall, handsome, mysterious, brooding, kind of scary, even — you never thought he was clumsy.
you softly cackle, earning you a glare from the boy.
“sorry,” you grin playfully, growing accustomed to his icy aura. “i just never pictured you as a klutz.”
“says you,” he grumbles, “weren’t you the one who tripped and fell in the cafeteria last week? ”
“what—” you choked, “you saw that?”
he exhaled through his nose in amusement. “who didn’t?” sunghoon raised a brow at you. “i’m pretty sure someone recorded and posted it. the caption was ‘dumbass fails to do simple task and ends up with food all over her clothes.’”
your eyes slammed shut before they shot open. “fucking jake,” you growled, gripping the umbrella tightly. “i’m going to kill him.”
sunghoon chuckled, and the sound made your heart beat a little faster. you caught a fleeting glimpse of his smile which — by the way — showcased the most emotion you had ever seen from the boy. it couldn’t be helped that your stomach mangled and twisted at his pearly-white boyish smile, one that made his cheeks bunch up his face and his eyes twinkle like stars.
how pretty.
his smile faded as quickly as it appeared, however, and you soon found yourself facing his usual blank expression again.
you want to try say something that might make him smile or laugh again, but he suddenly steps outside of the cage of your umbrella and raises his hand, hailing down the incoming bus.
it slowly stops by the road beside the two of you, marking the end of your little interaction.
“oh, your bus is here,” you force a smile, rather disappointed. “i’ll, um, see you later, sunghoon.”
“get home safe,” he retrieves his bus card from his pocket, glancing over his shoulder before he boards his bus. “and thanks. for the umbrella.”
“n-no problem!” you quickly smile, “and by the way, my name is—”
“i know your name,” he interjects, and you think your mind is playing tricks on you when you see the edges of his lips twitch upward. “see you around.”
sunghoon disappears into the bus and it whizzes by you, though you stay frozen in your feet for what feels like forever.
he knows your name.
he’ll see you around.
you tuck your lip between your teeth, cheeks and ears flaring up.
and he wants you to get home safe.
.
( to be continued )
this is a preview only ﹒ full fic is estimated 6-7k ﹒
taglist open — send an ask, dm, or reply !
a/n . btw this is a preview only. the full fic might come out next week ? anyway my first hoonie fic and it's 100% pure, unadulterated fluff <3 this is inspired by paris in the rain + the above quote + an exo fic i adore ^^ hope u all liked it :) see u in the full version maybe 🤓
Series Summary: Your whole life has gone to shit. Your boyfriend broke up with you, you just lost your job and the Monegasque, who suddenly stands in your doorway, claims that it’s his apartment.
Chapter Summary: Having lunch with friends always leads to sharing information. And girl, those friends don't hold back.
Warnings: 18+ (mentions of smut), fluff, Kika is the bestest friend on this planet, mentions of Carlos and his girlfriend (yes, I consider this a trigger)
Word Count: 3.3k
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A/N: I just reached 2.6k followers and wow!! thank you so much!!! I love you! and this one is for you!!! feedback is appreciated.
Although it's only a few days until Christmas, the sun is shining so brightly that it's pleasantly warm as you and Kika leave the furniture store. As planned - but still with an uneasy feeling - you have left the almost overflowing shopping cart in front of the checkouts and while Charles pays for your "early Christmas present", you and your friend walk to the restaurant.
"I hope all this stuff fits in the car." Kika curls her mouth into a grin. "The mirror I wrote on the note - you know, the one they have to get from storage - is pretty big."
"I'd like to have your guts," you answer her. "Just picking out a huge mirror without knowing exactly whether it will fit anywhere in our apartment."
Kika grins and points to her brown eyes. "Eye measurement, baby. Those marbles are that big for a reason."
You have to stifle a laugh. "If you say so."
While the Portuguese woman plans where in your room she will place which decoration, your thoughts drift off.
It bothers you a little that Charles wants to spend so much money on you. And for no good reason. "I want you to feel comfortable" was his explanation, which is of course very courteous and loving of him. But you could have bought the things with your own money. At least a small part of it.
Would he expect a similarly expensive gift for Christmas now? If so, what could you get him? What do you give someone who already has everything?
"Are you mad at me?" Kika interrupts your flow of thoughts and grabs your elbow.
Confused, you turn to her. "What?"
"I - I don't know." When she stops, you're forced to stop too. "I didn't tell you that Charles is a famous Formula 1 driver. You - you confided in me about Raphael and I kept you in the dark about your roommate."
You exhale. "Kika..."
"I wasn't a good friend and I'm sorry about that. Charles had asked us all not to tell because he wanted to protect you and enjoy the time with you when he was just Charles to you. Even if it wasn't fair to you. I can understand if you're angry with me and-"
"I'm not angry with you," you interrupt her and smile at her. "You're Charles' friend first and foremost and I can't blame him or you for keeping his secret. It doesn't affect our friendship in the slightest."
"Promise?" Her tone sounds a little more pleased than it did a few moments ago.
You nod. "I promise."
She hooks back into you. "Thank goodness for that. I felt super bad because I couldn't tell you. But it wasn't my secret and it wasn't my place to tell you. And I'm really relieved that you see it the same way." She rests her head on your shoulder as you continue walking.
"So you're a model, huh?" you ask her.
She nods. "Yes. Well, I put a lot of effort into it and it's very tiring at times." Kika shrugs her shoulders. "But because of that - and Pierre, of course - I get to travel a lot and see great places. And I really appreciate that." She looks at you. "Now that you're unemployed -" You give her a dirty look. "Maybe you'd like to take my pictures sometime. And then I can post it on my Instagram and maybe other models will want to book you."
"You haven't seen any of my pictures yet," you reply with a laugh as she grabs your hand and jumps up and down. "Of course we can. We can try it out if you like."
Your friend looks around briefly before letting go of you and moving away from you. "How about now? I know you don't have your camera with you, but you can use my phone. The photos won't be as focused as with a real camera, but it should be enough to get you started."
She hands you her cell phone before standing opposite you against the wall of the house. You watch her uncertainly as she fixes her hair. "Are you sure about this? What if the boys are already waiting for us?"
"Let them." She pulls her black jeans up a little so that they sit loosely on her hips. "It won't take long. And I trust you. So here we go."
While Kika turns, repositions herself and smiles at the camera, you take as many pictures as you can. In between, you adjust her purple cardigan so that it sits in the middle of her narrow shoulders, tell her how her feet should be positioned to emphasize the curves of her body and even tousle her hair once so that a few strands fall loosely into her forehead.
When you look at the pictures after ten minutes and favor three of them, she looks curiously over your shoulder. "They look great. Really outfit of the day vibe." You hand the phone back to her. "I like this one. And this one. You've captured my butt well," she grins and puts the phone in her black handbag before hooking it back up to you. "And now let's go. I'm really hungry and I don't want to keep your tiramisu from you."
Oh well.
Charles' words - "Then lie down on the bed, mon amour. I'd like to see how you look on it" - haunt your mind and the images that appear in your head don't make the situation any easier.
For example, Charles kneeling between your legs and his gaze wandering hungrily over your body. How his hands rest on your thighs to open them a little wider so that he can lie comfortably on his stomach between them. How he slides his fingers under the hem of your panties to slowly pull them off your legs. And the way his mouth moves up from the soft skin of your thighs to where you want it to be. Need it to be. The way he opens his mouth and licks his tongue over his lips before closing the distance between you and -
"Watch out. You start drooling." When you give Kika a confused look, she pokes you in the side. "I didn't know you could daydream about tiramisu."
"I wasn't even thinking about tiramisu," you defend yourself, but Kika doesn't believe a word you say.
"Of course not." You could even hear her grin if you weren't looking at her. She lifts her hand and puts it to your cheek, playfully wiping the non-existent spit from the corner of your mouth. "I hate to repeat myself, but you're really not very good at lying."
You chew the inside of your cheek and look down at your sneakers. "Is it that obvious?"
"That you're totally into tiramisu? Hardly," she replies wryly, but puts her arm around your shoulder. "Let's be honest. A trained eye like mine can spot something like that, but if you're worried about the boys seeing it - you really don't need to worry. They wouldn't even recognize a dessert if you put it right in front of them."
"I just don't know what to do," you confess to her.
Kika purses her lips. "Would you be ready for tiramisu after everything that's happened?"
A question you don't know the answer to. After Raphael's betrayal, you had actually sworn off men for a long time for fear that something similar would happen to you again. You tried to build a wall around your heart, but Charles has broken it down piece by piece and now there is only him. He has spread inside you, in your head and in your heart, and you are hungry for him - a feeling that you have never felt for Raphael before. A feeling that takes you by surprise and overruns you like an avalanche and you are helplessly at its mercy.
"It's not the end of the world if you're ready for it," Kika assures you and her smile is genuine. "And when you're ready to give the tiramisu its real name, I'll be here if you want to talk about it."
You hug your friend tightly, causing her to let out a loud gasp. "Thank you, Kika. Really."
"You don't need to thank me. After all, I'm going to make full use of the mirror in your room soon and use you for your photography skills."
A few minutes later, you arrive at the small restaurant. As you enter through the glass door, you can already see the two men sitting at a table at the back. And Kika was right - apart from the four of you, the restaurant is deserted.
"Where have you been?" asks Pierre as you join them. While Kika sits down opposite her boyfriend, you take the empty seat next to her. "We've been waiting for ages."
"We had to stop for a moment because I wanted to take photos," Kika explains and shows them both one of the pictures you took of her.
Pierre grimaces in amazement. "Very good photos. I hope you tag her in them too."
Playfully indignant, she puts her hand to her cleavage. "Of course! What makes you think I wouldn't do that? It might even land her more photo shoots with other models." She leans in your direction. "But as long as I remain your favorite model, everything's fine."
"You are and always will be my favorite model, Kika," you reply and briefly lean your cheek against the top of her head before she sits up straight again.
While Kika and Pierre argue lovingly, you feel Charles pressing one of his legs against yours under the table. When you look at him, he smiles. "Everything okay?" he asks silently, tilting his head.
You nod. "Everything's perfect." You press your leg against his as well.
The risotto you ordered doesn't taste too bad, even if it is a little more fancy than your typical meals. The boys talk about their sport and you try to understand everything, but when the conversation eventually turns to engines, you stop listening.
You watch Charles as he talks energetically and passionately to his friend about his job, while the French mainly listens. He tries to explain things with his hands, waving them wildly in front of his face, and if you didn't know him, you'd think he was a bit out of his mind. But there is something twinkling in his eyes, a spark that shines brighter and brighter the longer he talks about Formula 1.
It makes him so attractive that you have to swallow.
"How are Carlos and his girlfriend doing?" Kika interjects into the conversation. "I saw on Instagram the other day that they went on a trip together."
You look from Kika to Charles. "Who is Carlos?"
"My teammate at Ferrari. The other driver," he explains briefly with a smile before turning to Kika. "I've seen that too. Santorini or something, wasn't it? It was definitely nice, but let's see how long it lasts."
You have to ask again. " How long will it last? That doesn't sound like you have much faith in the relationship."
Kika, who has taken a sip of her water, puts her glass back on the table. "Unfortunately, this has nothing to do with faith," she explains and takes her cell phone out of her bag. She taps on it a little until she hands it to you.
You see an Instagram page of a Becca, also a model, it seems. 27 years old, model at the Bijou Management agency. Her last post is actually from Santorini and alongside all the pictures of her lolling by the pool is one of her with a man. Carlossainz55 is tagged in the picture.
"When you're famous, it's harder to have a relationship," Pierre continues. "Not everyone is so lucky and falls in love with someone who is a good match for them. Sometimes rumors surface about people that aren't true, but still damage reputations. And to counteract this, some people go into relationships that put them in a good light."
You look around in confusion. "So it's a marketing strategy? So that people can sell themselves better?"
Charles nods. "These PR relationships are very conspicuous and usually easy to see through, but even then they distract from the actual rumor."
"And Carlos and Becca are in one of those PR relationships?" Your friends nod. "And what's the rumor that needs to be put to rest?"
Charles bites the inside of his cheek. "Carlos was with a young, super-nice woman for years. When they broke up, there was a rumor that he had a secret family and even a son. That this was the reason for the break-up. And that triggered a few conversations at Ferrari." He shrugs his shoulders. "And then they pulled Becca in for him."
You furrow your eyebrows. "Pulled her in? How do you find someone to willingly agree to a fake relationship like that?"
Kika catches your attention. "Some racing teams have a cooperation with certain modeling agencies for such cases. Which of course makes the whole thing even more conspicuous. But just think how much publicity the girlfriends get from it. It definitely doesn't hurt the modeling job."
"But you also have to understand that millions of euros are attached to a driver's reputation," Pierre explains. "Fans buy tickets to see their favorite driver. They buy merchandise like shirts, caps or whatever to show their loyalty. And loyalty is not exactly low. Ask Charles. One priest has his whole Instagram page dedicated to him."
As you look at your roommate, he can only nod. "That's true. Fans put their favorites on pedestals, praise them to the skies and would defend them to the bitter end. But a rumor that is so serious and has consequences like falling sales figures - anything is better than fans who refuse to support their favorites."
"And why do you think it won't be good for much longer?" Charles looks nervously around the room as if he doesn't know what to say, and his friends also avoid your gaze and your question. "Guys, I don't know these people. So, whatever you tell me - I can't do anything with the information anyway. Is there another woman?"
"It's not exactly another woman," Kika mumbles into her glass and all heads turn in her direction. "What is it? Like she's going to run to the nearest news agency and tell them that the Spanish Ferrari driver isn't exclusively into women."
You raise your hands placatingly. "In case it's not clear - of course I'll keep everything that's said around the table to myself. I'm not crazy and risking our friendship."
"I didn't expect anything else," Charles replies with a smile that could melt glaciers. "I couldn't bear it if we weren't friends anymore either."
As you look at him and mindlessly lick your lips, you feel Kika's elbow gently on your arm.
"What do you think? Do you fancy some tiramisu?"
Your gaze lingers on Charles and when he presses his leg a little harder against yours, your breath hitches. "I'm craving it."
And indeed. The tiramisu isn't as good as the one at the restaurant where you met Kika and Pierre, but it comes close. You try to look away from Charles, but every time you look at him, his eyes are already on you. Something that makes you even more nervous than it should.
When you get into the car a short time later, unnoticed, you glance briefly over the seats back into the trunk. "Where's the new bed?"
Charles straps himself in and has the seat belt fastened against his torso. "They'll deliver it between Christmas and New Year and set it up straight away. Then I won't have all the work and Pierre won't have to lug it around with me."
"For which I am very grateful," replies the Frenchman, steering the car through the streets of Monaco. "I don't even know how we're going to transport this mirror without breaking it. It was already barely possible to get it into the car."
"That sounds like a you-problem," grins Kika, looking at her boyfriend through the rear-view mirror. "You're the strong men. You'll find a solution while we get all the little things into the apartment. Right?"
The question is directed at you, but apart from a nod, she can't expect anything else in response. Charles's fingers are once again wrapped around your calf, his thumb gently stroking your warm skin and you can't think of anything else but the feeling of warmth that spreads through you from this small touch.
It takes a good hour for both the mirror and the rest to get to the upstairs in your apartment. After Pierre involuntarily teaches you several swear words in French and Kika decorates your entire windowsill with fake plants, they quickly make a run for it, worried that you're both going to take even more advantage of them than you already have.
"We've had a good day so far," you call out to Charles from the kitchen as you pour you both a glass of water each. You don't know where he is, but he will probably have heard you anyway.
"Definitely," comes his voice from the living room. As you follow it, you see Charles sitting on the large couch, his head back and his eyes closed. Only now do you notice how thick his neck is. Is it from all the training for Formula 1?
"Here." You hold his glass of water out to him and he opens his eyes to accept it. As you sit down, he takes a sip. You watch his Adam's apple bounce as he swallows.
"Thank you," he replies quietly and rests his arm on the back of the couch. A sign for you to lean against him, which you definitely don't refuse.
As you snuggle into his side and breathe in his unmistakable scent, you feel tiredness overtake you. "But it was exhausting."
""Mh-mhh."
"Thanks again. For my early Christmas present. Even though it wasn't necessary," you joke, but as rigid as Charles is sitting next to you, he doesn't seem to be in the mood for jokes. And as you follow his stare, the roses on the white piano come into your field of vision. The reason why you suggested the trip to the furniture store. And suddenly your tiredness is blown away.
"Do you happen to know anyone who has something like a fire bowl or something?" you ask your flatmate.
This question seems to break him out of his spell. His gaze wanders from the roses to you and he raises an eyebrow in confusion. "A fire bowl?" You nod. "Joris has a rooftop terrace and we've had bonfires there before in the summer." He licks his teeth once. "What do you need a fire bowl for? You're not thinking about sitting around a fire with sticks and marshmallows in winter, are you?"
"Not exactly," you reply and get up from the couch. As you look down at him, you hold out your hand. "Come on, mon joli. I have an idea."
a 7 part jjk drabble series
based on the explicit version of ‘seven’.
how it will work:
each day of the week is assigned a different lyric from the single ‘seven’ by jjk. each drabble will feature its own environment & kink(s) that correspond to the associated lyric.
series masterlist:
1. monday: sęx in the workplace • read here
- “got you skipping work and meetings”
2. tuesday: sęx in a car • coming soon
- “its the way that you can ride”
3. wednesday: sęx outside • coming soon
- “i kiss your waist and ease your mind”
4. thursday: sęx in a hot tub / bathtub • coming soon
- “you know night after night, i’ll be fuckin' you right”
5. friday: sęx in a secret space • coming soon
- “so break me off another time”
6. saturday: sęx while gaming • coming soon
- “you wrap around me and you give me life”
7. sunday: sęx in the kitchen • coming soon
- “wind it back, i’ll take it slow, leave you with that afterglow”
pairing: seven!jungkook x f!reader (afab)
genre(s)&au(s): non idol, slice of life, established relationship, smut, fluff, minor tiny angst
warnings & smut warnings: all drabbles will come with their own warnings upon release
w/c: all drabbles will come with their own word count upon release
rating: 18+
banner: @caelesjjk
taglist [open]: - comment below!
- ageless & empty blogs will not be included & minors will be blocked. update: AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE IGNORED
note1: this is something new that ive never tried before, so i do hope people will show it some love ♡
note2: thank you to my sarah for not just the banner but for also listening & sharing ideas over the last 2 days to create this series
in which everyone has a soulmate and whatever written marks are on ones skin, appears on the others. but in this case... you're not allowed to have one.
