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swordgrace · 4 months ago

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𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐎𝐑 𝐃𝐄𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐒.

༆ jacaerys velaryon x fem!reader.

SYNOPSIS: as lady-in-waiting to rhaenyra targaryen, you find that her eldest son, jacaerys, is the only true friend and comfort you have amidst a brewing war that threatens to tear the realm apart.

note: jacaerys is nineteen, reader is eighteen.

༆ 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐓𝐖𝐎 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄.

༆ 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄.

{ FORMAT: one shot — requested.

{ WORD COUNT: 11.5K (this is a long one, not sorry!)

{ WARNINGS: SMUT (mdni), friends to lovers, inexperience from both reader & jace, loss of virginity (mutual), first time sexual experiences, sexual tension, p in v sex (unprotected), missionary position, lots of kissing and sweeter antics, slight risk of getting caught, oral sex (fem!receiving), handjob, fingering, hair pulling kink, brief overstimulation, tiddy sucking, this whole thing is soft & sweet smut, nothing disgusting here, jacaerys is the epitome of a perfect lover :))

{ AUTHOR’S NOTE: I am lowkey transitioning into becoming a Jace girl, I absolutely love him and I’m really enjoying where his character is going! This was a request from an anon user who wanted something freeform! I hope you all enjoy it, thanks so much for all of the recent love & support for my work! It makes me so happy! ❤️

𝐒𝐀𝐋𝐓𝐘 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐒 𝐏𝐄𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐊𝐒, harkened in from the gentle roll of the tides. Saltwater and dampened rock filled your nostrils, aided by the fluttering breeze as it danced across the obsidian cliffs of Dragonstone.

The castle stood the testament of time, a monolith to the rule of the Targaryens. It loomed overhead, less frightening in the lighter hours, blanketed by glittering rays of sunlight. A cloudless day — good for sailing, you thought, as vessels ushered in goods to the shoddy harbor below.

Beneath the vibrancy of a cloudless sky, you could see the shadow of a dragon soaring overhead — the Princess Rhaenys, from the horned shape above. You cupped your hand around your eyes, squinting to see, constantly mesmerized by such creatures.

In your fantastical dreams, you flew upon the back of a dragon, letting the wind scrape across your visage, feeling the weight of something so powerful beneath you. Of course, you were neither Targaryen nor Velaryon — possessing a dragon wouldn’t be in the cards for you, and perhaps that was a good thing.

As much as you enjoyed the beauty of Dragonstone, you much preferred the outdoors. The weather was splendid, and you took small victories wherever possible. With war on the horizon between your Queen Rhaenyra and her usurper brother, any chance at happiness was worth chasing after and holding onto, while you could.

House Celtigar had bent the knee to Rhaenyra, and your father sat at her council. You were made to be a lady-in-waiting, much your initial disdain. The station you held would’ve been considered a great honor to most young women, but you were inclined to be out in the ocean or on the back of a horse.

Now, you found enjoyment in it, wherever you could.

Oceanic air filled your lungs in a singular inhale, tinged with a saltwater sting. You stood near one of the many stone terraces lining the lengthy walkway to the castle’s entrance, accompanied by Joffrey. The boy had become your greatest joy amidst the brewing chaos, and you were rather grateful for it.

“Would you like to see the ocean, little Prince?” You held the boy’s hand, stooping down to wrap your arms beneath him, standing him up along the cobbled bannister. Joffrey’s laughter could brighten a whole room, and it did — it certainly lifted your spirits.

“When will I be able to ride a dragon?” He questioned, pointing towards the shape of Meleys in the sky. Joffrey was rather inquisitive — a sharp mind, one that would become a great leader someday.

You were unsure of how to answer such a question. Tyraxes was young and still small, just like Joffrey. “Whenever you grow up,” You hummed, a smile playing at either corner of your mouth. “You must be as tall as your brother, first.”

Joffrey toyed with the wooden dragon clutched between his hands, gaze falling toward the ground. “Luke wasn’t much taller.” He mumbled, and it nearly crushed your heart completely to hear the confusion and despair in a child’s voice.

Youth knew more than most, and in the mind of a child, something heinous could appear innocent, or something tragic was beyond their comprehension. Joffrey knew that Luke was gone — he wasn’t coming back. Silence drifted between the both of you, and you found it difficult to change the subject from Lucerys to something lighthearted.

“I miss him.” Joffrey’s sweet voice rang out like the pealing of bells, crystal-clear and downtrodden. You turned him around within your grasp, keeping your hands slotted underneath his arms to ground him. His eyes swam with unshed tears, prompting you to bring him into your embrace.

“It’s alright, my Prince. He’s still here,” You whispered, hugging the boy as tightly as you could. It was enough to rip at your heartstrings, tear you asunder as melancholy began to eat you alive. The fate of Lucerys was a tragic one — unfair and unwarranted, and now, a catalyst for destruction between kin. “We will remember him.”

From afar, Jacaerys observed you and his brother, standing along the ramparts with a palm atop the pommel of his shortsword. The emotional turmoil he continued to feel in regards to Lucerys happened to swell the moment he saw Joffrey clinging onto you — and he knew.

Wisps of a tempered breeze stirred his curled tresses, drifting across his regalia as it caught against his cloak. After the death of his brother, he had come out to the ramparts nearly every night, to sob and to curse the world, to pray to any God that would listen — return Lucerys, bring him home. He had lost count, and in turn, lost a bit of faith.

Remaining optimistic in the face of unavoidable danger was a difficult thing — fear had gripped him once, but no longer. He knew that the only time a man could be brave was in situations like these, where terror stared him in the face and dared him to submit.

Many still referred to him as a mere boy, with little experience and no real understanding of the world and its cruelty. Jacaerys had shed the raiment of boyhood the night he flew blindly into the darkness in the name of Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen.

With the man born, he knew that whatever would come next, he was prepared to face such challenges head-on. Brazenness was not in his nature, but he had learned to adopt stoicism when it mattered most. It was easy to shed the facade around his family, and around you.

His friendship with you was a calm within the storm, a lull in the tempestuous hurricane you were all trapped within. You now had as much stake in this game as he did — your father served on Rhaenyra’s council with Celtigar bannerman pledging to fight in the war to come, and you served as his mother’s lady-in-waiting.

Your blossoming bond was a great comfort, and the tender way in which you cared for Joffrey was a wonderful thing. You had a soft heart — a good heart, and that was something rare to come by. The two of you were both of a similar feather, and the admiration he held for you only seemed to grow stronger each day.

The word friendship often tormented him, on days where you wore beautiful gowns and stood beside his mother, or whenever you smiled. It tormented him when you held Joffrey within your arms and protected him just as fiercely as Rhaenyra would.

Honor demanded that he simply remain just that — a friend, but Jacaerys found himself smitten with you in a way that transcended propriety. To cross that line, especially with you, invited the disdain of his mother and the ire of your father, amongst other things.

Betrothal would be upon him soon enough, likely with a young maiden from the Vale or the Reach to secure an alliance, but it left a sour taste within his mouth. He had little desire to be with anyone else when you were right there.

Jacaerys steeled himself, abandoning his whimsical line of thinking in regards to you. It was a fool’s errand, and he couldn’t afford to be a fool. He stepped closer, the crunch of stone resonating underneath his boots as he approached you and Joffrey.

“My Lady,” Jacaerys’s tone was amiable, like the comforting lick of a warm hearth. His gaze flickered toward Joffrey, bemused with his brother’s antics as you balanced him along the bannister. “What are you doing up there?” He asked, playful in the presence of his little brother.

“Flying,” Joffrey’s head lifted from your shoulder, eyes sparkling with mischief. You happened to carry him in such a way that he called it flying — and he was asking you to do it again. “Flying!”

With a giggle, you picked the boy up, swinging him up enough to let him get some air. His melancholy turned to jovial laughter as you soared him over to Jacaerys, who was more than happy to pick him up. Joffrey clung to Jace, hugging his brother with all of his strength.

“You are getting too big to fly,” Jace mused, holding Joffrey in one arm as he motioned for you to accompany him. His tousled curls and amicable smile sent your heart fluttering as it had many times before. It wasn’t subtle, your liking of Jacaerys, but you understood the nature of your affections. “Big enough for Tyraxes, soon.”

Jacaerys was perfect, with all of the hallmarks of what a true King should be. He was gentle and eloquent, honed with a blade, learned — and above all, he was kind. The rage that plagued him now was justified, and it pained you to see him become coiled with anger, but you understood why.

As Joffrey regaled the two of you with tales of childlike wonder, soaring his toy dragon around Jace’s head, Jacaerys seemed inclined to converse with you regardless. “I always know where to look, whenever I need to see you.” He mused, walking alongside you as you made your way up the ramparts.

“Is that so?” You chuckled, head canting to one side. “What did you need to see me for, your Grace?” It was a force of habit — he was the heir to the Iron Throne, after all. Jacaerys regarded you with a brief laugh, knowing that formalities were often abandoned whenever the two of you were together.

“Do I need a reason?” Jacaerys mused, voice light and inviting. The crash of the tide upon the beach provided a rather serene ambience, accompanied by the calling of gulls as they circled the bay.

You shook your head, skirts gathered in one hand as you narrowly avoided an upturned plate of stone. “Of course not,” You hesitated, gaze sparkling as your nose wrinkled in mild amusement. “Jacaerys.” You ensured to exaggerate his name, allowing for your conversation to become personal.

At the end of the ramparts, a flock of crimson-clad handmaidens awaited your return. It was likely that they were waiting for you to hand Joffrey over, much to your dismay. The black-headed boy looked to you as you neared the end of your walk.

“I don’t want to go,” He protested, reaching for you as you stepped forward, taking a hold of his hand. “When can we fly again?” Joffrey asked, lower lip jutting out in a rather innocuous pout. He leaned forward, partially out of Jace’s grasp to give you a hug.

“Tomorrow, my Prince. I will let you fly as much as you’d like.” You assured him, reciprocating his hug with one of your own, with all of the warmth one could muster. It was motherly in-nature, and you watched as Jacaerys planted him onto solid ground.

Joffrey took the outstretched hand of a handmaiden, glancing back at you and Jacaerys before they disappeared behind the castle’s massive gates. It always hurt you to leave him, but you knew that tomorrow would come swiftly. A begrudging sigh escaped you before you looked at Jacaerys, countenance somber.

Jace knew what you were about to say — something about Lucerys. The gaping wound left within his heart was barely healed, still oozing with pain, but he was making every effort to mend it. You helped — your resolute reassurance and shoulder to lean on, but sometimes, it wasn’t enough.

Instead, you reached for Jace’s forearm, giving it a brief squeeze of comfort. Whatever sentiments he held, you seemed to echo it, leaving it all unspoken. You and Jacaerys had already spoken about it all at-length — sometimes, he had little desire to tear himself open again.

His head hung low, heap of dark curls billowing in the wind. Jacaerys’s jaw tightened for a brief moment, and he imagined plunging his sword into Aemond Targaryen’s other eye — and then it passed, just as quickly as it had appeared.

A forlorn silence settled between the both of you, one that was born out of mutual understanding and empathy. Jace went quiet often, and you were content to sit in it for as long as he pleased. Instead, you stepped toward the bannister, palms planting themselves atop the stone as you gazed out toward the land surrounding Dragonstone.

“You are good with him,” Jacaerys broke the silence, deliberately stepping towards you as he stood by your side. Joffrey and his half-brothers, Aegon and Viserys, were all he had left. He would die for them if he had to. “He talks about you often.”

An exuberant smile crept onto your features, one of a sweet fondness in regards to Joffrey. “He is a sweet boy — very sharp-witted, though. I would imagine he will grow to be very wise.” You replied, idly tracing your fingers around some of the rocks socketed into the bannister.

“I remember the day he was born,” Jacaerys recalled, remembering the day that his mother, pale skin glistening with sweat, had wobbled into the drawing room, a newborn Joffrey in her arms. “It was a beautiful day, and Ser Harwin was there, and Ser Laenor …” He trailed off, recalling the way that Lucerys had begged to hold his younger brother.

The topic of both Laenor and Harwin were bitter ones — both men playing the role of father. Jacaerys loved them both, as any son would. Another gust of saltwater mist brushed along the ramparts, dusting your cheeks with wisps of moist air.

Wordlessly, you reached for Jace’s arm, looping yours around him as you let him lean against you for support. As much as Jacaerys insisted that he would recover and move on, you ensured him that grieving took time — it came in many shapes and forms.

Jace’s smile was wistful and threadbare, made sorrowful by memories of Lucerys. He didn’t want to sully the moment with his melancholy, holding his head high as he glanced toward you. You were not looking, but it allowed him a moment of appreciation and admiration.

Your beauty was unparalleled, your features delicate and smile like the warmth of a summer sunshine. The way in which you carried yourself was of a kindly disposition, made to be nurturing and helpful instead of imposing. Admittedly, you took his breath away — the feeling was a constant one.

Sunlight sparkled across your countenance, gaze soothing and full of empathy. The way in which you grasped his arm, kept yourself tucked away within his side, it invoked feelings of protectiveness — and newfound affection.

A dragon’s shrill cry reverberated throughout the skies, prompting Jacaerys to immediately look ahead. It was the familiar shriek of Vermax, his bonded dragon, who had grown exponentially. He was larger than Moondancer, with olive-colored scales and orange fins, eyes the color of a burnished gold.

“Māzigon, Vermax!” Jacaerys called, gaining the attention of his dragon as it began to approach, causing your heart to gallop within your chest. He looked at you with a hint of amusement, head canting to one side. “Would you like to see him?” Jace inquired, moving along the wall.

As majestic as dragons were, the wonder within your eyes had quickly shifted to wariness as it landed along the ramparts, rocks scraping underneath its talons. Vermax was much larger when in close proximity than he was flying overhead. “He is wonderful, Jace. Though, it is best if I keep my distance. He might not like me.”

Jacaerys laughed, amber-brown eyes sparkling with mirth. “Might not like you?” He mused, knowing that such a thought was outlandish. If he liked you, then Vermax most certainly would. A dragon could always pick apart friend from foe, and you were as far from an enemy as one could be.

“Yes, what — Jacaerys, that is a perfectly reasonable thing to say,” You countered, flustered by Jace’s reaction to your skepticism. His smile was cheery and heartfelt as he stared at you, and then offered his hand. “I do not think that this is a good idea.” A soft utterance emerged from under your breath.

“Trust me.” His tone softened exponentially, shifting from playful to gentle, reassuring. You hesitated before taking a hold of his hand, and Jacaerys nearly brushed his thumb across your knuckles out of sheer instinct. Whatever thoughts he had, he pushed them to the far recesses of his mind.

You trusted Jacaerys more than most, prompting you to nod as he ushered you closer to Vermax. His grasp was tender, as to not frighten you, which only made your heart flutter with affection. The dragon bristled and made a series of noises, some more serpentine than others.

Vermax lowered his head, pushing closer towards his rider as the dragon bowed to Jacaerys. You were close enough to feel the waves of heat wafting from his breath, close enough to outstretch your arm and feel his scales beneath your palm.

The scent of brimstone and dragonscale lingered upon Vermax, like a crackling fire and smoke. You watched with bated breath as Jace’s palm moved to Vermax’s snout, digits tracing along the olive-hued scales, and down toward his jaw. “Sagon iēdrosa,” Jace murmured, stepping closer to his dragon. “Sȳz.”

High Valyrian was an exquisite language, a beautiful symphony from an ancient era. Jacaerys had become proficient in such a tongue, and the way he spoke it had you mesmerized. With a gentle smile, he still held your hand, gesturing toward Vermax.

“What are you saying to him?” You inquired, losing some of your fear. It gradually waned the closer Jacaerys had inched you toward the dragon, who showed no ill will towards you at all. Instead, Vermax’s burnished hues glimmered with intrigue — you were a familiar scent, emblazoned upon Jace, but not a familiar face.

“I told him to be still for you,” Jacaerys replied, fingers flexing around your own as he carefully guided you toward Vermax’s neck, where the scales began to flare and thicken. Olive turned to emerald in some places, verdant shades clashing together. “Place your hand here.”

Your breath hitched within your throat as Jace became in close proximity to you, closer than he’d been before. His grasp was a tender one, placing your palm atop the dragon’s throat. Warmth crept along the length of your spine, filling your belly with an eruption of butterflies.

You made the mistake of glancing at Jacaerys for the briefest moment, able to spot the rosy flush of color within his visage and the gleam within his stare. As soon as you’d made contact, he happened to glance away, making a soft noise as it stirred within his throat.

Vermax chortled, the dragon’s attention fixated upon you as you brushed your fingers across his scales. Jace had dropped your hand, realizing the sliver of space between you both as he stepped aside, content to observe you with his dragon.

It was your enchanting laughter that lifted his spirits, the gentle way in which you stroked across Vermax’s neck and shoulder. “He is beautiful,” You hummed, countenance bright with a joyous radiance as you looked at Jacaerys once more. The gap between you had grown, much to your dismay. “How do you say that in High Valyrian?”

Jace hesitated, lips parting just slightly. His heart nearly skipped a beat when you smiled at him, expectant and awaiting his answer. He became so easily distracted in your presence, and it was somewhat vexing to behold. “Gevie,” He replied, briefly clearing his throat. “Gevie means beautiful, in High Valyrian.”

With a soft hum, you looked to Vermax, your grin toothy and amused. “Gevie, Vermax.” You spoke clearly, but the dragon did not seem to understand what you said — it wasn’t a command. Instead, he let out a series of reptilian noises, nostrils flaring with snort, almost like that of a horse.

Vermax’s lack of reaction made you frown, but Jacaerys appeared amused by it, at least. “Gevie isn’t a command,” He mused, head canting to one side. “Your High Valyrian needs improvement.” His tone was jocular, teasing — it made your heart stir within your chest.

“Fortunately, I have the perfect teacher standing before me.” You countered with a giggle, noticing the way in which a shade of pink settled into his features. Jacaerys was beautiful and handsome, but his flustered behavior only made him more perfect to you.

The dragon shook its head, seeking the embrace of his rider before he began to take flight. A massive gust of wind from the flap of his wings nearly knocked you down, causing you to crouch and grip the stone of the ramparts.

Jacaerys smiled, watching as Vermax ascended, taking to the skies above Dragonstone once more. You watched with a semblance of awe, slowly rising to your feet as the dragon became a mere specter amidst the cloudless sky. He did not stray too far, circling around with the likes of Moondancer and Syrax.

“Someday, I will take you flying with me,” Jace suggested, nose wrinkling slightly at your bewildered expression. “I would keep you safe.” He reassured you before words could emerge from your mouth, his chuckle amicable as he led you back toward the gates of Dragonstone.

“I trust you, but flying?” To see the world from such great heights sounded wonderful, but you feared the fall — and you feared the unknown of it all even more. “That might take more convincing than this did.” You mused, walking alongside him as the gates became closer.

A huff escaped him, hand dropping from the pommel of his shortsword to his side, a symbol of letting his guard down. A comfortable silence settled between the both of you, occasionally accompanied by a brief bout of laughter or tender smiles.

As the gates loomed over the both of you, Jacaerys hesitated, deliberating on what to say next. There were so many things he wanted to say to you — where did he begin? The nerves of first affection grabbed hold of him, but he remained resistant, wanting nothing more than to tell you how much you meant to him.

“Perhaps an exchange is in-order,” Jacaerys began, shifting his weight from one foot to the next. “You come flying with me, and I will teach you High Valyrian.” He mused, smothering his grin at your expression. You were clearly wary and unimpressed.

“Danger for something that I could learn in the comfort of a book? I think not, your Grace.” With a grin of your own, Jace happened to snicker, his visage invoking an unspoken challenge, albeit playful. “If I am ever feeling bold and spontaneous, I will inform you as soon as possible.”

Jacaerys hummed, head ducking for just a moment before he met your gaze again, doting and overflowing with a subtle warmth. “Thank you for this,” He began, tone heartfelt and genuine. “I would not know what to do if it weren’t for your company and comfort. I’ve found it difficult to remain jovial as of late, but it’s rather effortless in your presence.”

His genial compliments made your stomach turn with excitement, and you could soar away. Jacaerys would be an excellent ruler, should he take the Iron Throne — such grace, compassion, and gallantry were true hallmarks of what would make a good King. You felt the familiar, smitten flush dance along your skin.

“Of course, Jace — you never have to ask for it,” Your fingers twisted into the silk of your gown, an outlet for your growing nerves. “You’ve no idea how much your company means to me. We will get through this together, that much I know.” With a brief nod, you felt his stare grow in intensity.

Before he could bear his heart to you on a whim, the gates opened, revealing several Targaryen bannermen and Kingsguard. It was sudden and somewhat jarring, placing the two of you back within reality — in a realm on the brink of war.

“I should return to your mother, I fear I’ve neglected my duties enough today,” You murmured, offering Jace a kindly smile before dropping to curtsy. He seemed starstruck, as if caught within the depths of his own thoughts. “Good afternoon, your Grace.”

Formalities reappeared again, much to his disdain. He loved it when you called him Jace or Jacaerys, or your Grace whenever you teased him. To hear it used in the context of nobility made him feel distant, but he understood. You possessed a strong sense of propriety.

“My Lady.” Jace replied, watching as you took your leave to rejoin the other handmaidens and guardsmen. Jacaerys cursed himself for not making the most of the moment, but he knew that he could make his own opportunity, forge it if it never came about.

He intended to do just that.

𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐀𝐓 𝐃𝐔𝐒𝐊 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐋, with braziers dancing across the obsidian interior. Stars sparkled above a clear night sky, dragons dancing above. It was almost like something from a fairytale or a painting, mesmerizing to behold as you gazed up at the scaling ceiling of your bedchambers.

Your quarters were small and homely, befitting of your status as lady-in-waiting. Rhaenyra had ensured that your lodgings and that of your father were enough — more than suitable, really. The feathered mattress you slept upon was made for royalty, you thought.

The constant flicker of candlelight provided a source of warmth as you rolled over within your bed, blankets hauled up beneath your chin. It was too early to fall asleep, too late to do anything of substance.

A knock at your door gave you pause, brows furrowing together as you retrieved your robe, lacing it around the sheer gossamer of your nightgown. Bare feet traveled across the cold stone, until you reached the metal hoop slotted atop mahogany.

With a pull, you opened the door, surprised to find Jacaerys, who had abandoned his traditional Targaryen regalia, hands occupied with a stack of various tomes and scrolls. His mop of dark curls framed his face, and even he seemed just as bewildered as you were.

“Jacaerys,” His nightly visits were rather uncommon — in fact, this was only the second time he’d come, the first following Lucerys’s passing. You swallowed the growing lump within your throat, stepping aside to allow him inside of your chambers. “Is everything alright?”

Jace placed the stack of books atop the table that sat amongst small lounge chairs, ensuring to clear his throat before he spoke. “Of course,” He replied, gesturing toward your newfound reading material. “I’ve brought you scripts to learn High Valyrian.”

You blinked, touched by such a thoughtful gesture. You smoothed your palms across your robe, stepping forward to inspect the books, many of which appeared ancient and weathered. “You didn’t have to,” You replied, head canting to one side. “Many of these seem important. Are you sure that no one will miss these?”

A brief chuckle escaped him before he shook his head. “The Maesters might, but they’ve read them a hundred times over, I’m certain of it. You will find more use.” He replied, retreating toward the threshold of your chambers. Jacaerys wanted to keep his visit brief — visiting a young woman’s quarters in the dead of night was not exactly an intelligent move.

“You’re leaving so soon?” Your inquiry held a twinge of disappointment, hoping that he would stay and converse with you, at the very least. “Jacaerys, I assure you that no one will admonish you if you stay for a few minutes longer.” The softness of your voice enticed him, and he very nearly confessed then and there.

The weight of growing sentiments felt as if they would swallow him whole if he did not speak them into fruition. With the threat of a looming war and the potential for oblivion, Jacaerys was unsure of what gave him pause. The fear of rejection, perhaps? That wasn’t it.

It took a moment for you to adjust, and when you did, you noted his own attire — a billowy tunic and dark trousers that happened to make him appear softer in the candlelight. The sharp black and crimson of his house’s colors made him intimidating and poised, but no longer.

You saw Jacaerys himself, doe-eyed and magnificent.

“I fear what will happen if I stay,” Jacaerys confessed, squaring himself with the door. If he continued to linger in your chambers without restraint or without additional eyes, he knew what would happen — he did not want to sully your honor. “I won’t.”

“Jacaerys,” You whispered, brows furrowing together to form a look of confusion and startlement. Out of concern, you stepped closer, abandoning the scripts of High Valyrian now scattered across your table. “What’s wrong? I don’t understand.”

The inner war he waged within seemed to reflect upon his countenance, as Jacaerys exhaled — it was laced with stress, a heaviness that you struggled to understand. He seemed flustered, not wanting to meet your amiable gaze. “It is best if I leave it alone.” He replied, taking a hold of your hands. “I would not tarnish your honor.”

That is what he meant.

Something boiled over inside of you, the butterflies and blossoming affection turning into a tidal wave that threatened to swallow you whole. As Jace held your hands, he seemed desperate to convey such a message — whatever he wanted, he could not have.

A brief exhale escaped you before you steeled yourself, thumbs brushing across his knuckles, over the veins of his hands. “You wouldn’t tarnish it,” You whispered, stomach churning with molten heat. “I know that you wouldn’t, Jace. I trust you the most.”

Jacaerys felt the stirring within his chest, the first inkling of arousal settling into his very bones. It was somewhat foreign — a new feeling, but exciting and exhilarating. “I would never hurt you,” He insisted, and you believed him wholeheartedly. “What I feel for you, I do not wish to feel this way with anyone else.”

If you could’ve collapsed then and there, you would’ve — you thought it would happen, with the way your knees rattled together beneath your nightgown. The beating of your heart accelerated into a violent crescendo, and then you felt the rush — the love you had for him, desire, admiration, neediness.

A tenuous silence drifted between you both, the tension thick enough to be sliced with a blade. Jacaerys had inched closer without thinking, able to peer down into your eyes, swirling with affection and bewilderment. “If I told you I felt the same?” Your voice barely rose above a whisper.

Deliberately, Jacaerys released one of your hands, allowing his palm to fully envelop your face, the pad of his thumb caressing your cheekbone. “I would never difile your virtue, or take it for granted. You must tell me if this is something you want.” He insisted, jaw tightening as he anxiously awaited your answer.

You knew that he wouldn’t — Jacaerys Velaryon was the most honorable man you knew, one that would never lay a finger upon you unless you consented. You couldn’t imagine a return to friendship if you happened to reject him — you didn’t want to reject him, either.

“I do,” A shudder ran down your spine, bringing a wave of thrill and anticipation with it. “I want this — and I want you, Jacaerys, if you’ll have me.” Part of you became nervous, knowing that you had never bedded a man before, but you pushed the thought aside.

“A hundred times over.” Jace uttered, dipping down to press his lips against yours. The kiss was incredibly sweet and delicate, something brief to test the waters as the two of you began to explore uncharted territory. Your hands reached for his chest, flat atop his sternum.

Allowing the kiss to linger, you tilted your head just slightly, enough to permit a sensual progression. He kissed you so sweetly, treated you as if you were precious, something to be worshiped. When he inevitably pulled away, you felt a twinge of nervousness.

“I’ve never done anything like this before,” Your confession was a strenuous one, and you hoped that he wouldn’t be disappointed by your lack of experience. Most men already had a plethora by the time betrothals and first love emerged. “Is that alright?”

“Of course,” Jacaerys reassured you with a gentle squeeze, brows furrowing together with insistence. He hesitated, somewhat sheepish to admit the very same, but he knew you wouldn’t admonish him for it. “I haven’t either, if that’s alright.” He mused, the corner of his mouth twitching into a smile.

A sweet bout of laughter escaped you before you nodded several times over, unable to keep from withholding your happiness. “I suppose that this will be quite the learning experience.” You felt his thumb stroke along your jaw, his lips molding themselves to yours in another kiss.

Passion and tension began to mount, a continuous climb of affection, prepared to turn into something fiery. Jacaerys worried that he would disappoint you, or perhaps feel clumsy and awkward, but those were mere insecurities — he knew that you wouldn’t hold it against him.

One of his hands dropped, finding the pliant curve of your hip as he sank his digits into you, able to haul you closer, until there was no space left between the two of you. Kissing felt effortless with Jace, despite your inexperience — he was gentle and deliberate, ensuring that he took his time with you above all else.

Your fingers wandered from his chest to his broad shoulders, finding the curls of hair at the nape of his neck. Jacaerys exhaled, a shiver rolling down his spine as you began to gently tug at his tresses. He canted his head slightly, enough to deepen the kiss and hold you close.

It was Jace who slowly broke the kiss, but just enough to speak, warm breath fanning across your face. “May I take you to bed?” He murmured, tracing across the silky plane of your jaw. His excitement began to grow, heart hammering within his chest.

In such close quarters to one another, you noticed the faint dusting of freckles along the bridge of his nose, spreading just underneath his eyes. You pressed a kiss against the corner of his mouth. “You may.” Eagerness replaced any nervousness you were experiencing, then and there.

Jacaerys found your hand, twining his digits with your own as the two of you inched toward your bed. It was plush, lined with furs and enough blankets to warm the Seven Kingdoms. He stood at the precipice of a cliff, preparing to dive headfirst — and it felt incredible.

He watched with bated breath, rapturous and enamored as your digits settled along the many ties of your outer robes. You began the sluggish process of untethering each one until the garment loosened, enough for you to shrug it aside and drape it over the chest at the foot of your bed.

Even with the veil of sheer, silky fabric, Jacaerys quietly admired your physique, shapely and beautiful in every way imaginable. “You are perfect,” Jace uttered, hands coming to settle around your hips, searching for any sign of hesitation on your end. “Beautiful.” He exhaled, feeling you coax him in for another kiss.

Through the slip of silk and gossamer, Jacaerys deftly felt his way along your body, taking his time savoring you. Every curve and dip, every little detail he committed to memory, lost within a sea of you. Your kiss became passionate, and he was more than happy to reciprocate, the intensity burning between you both.

Jace felt your fingers tease the hem of his tunic, enough to elicit a subtle gasp from him. The sensation of your flesh against his caused goosebumps to spread from where your digits brushed against his waist. He released you for a moment, long enough for him to assist you in removing his nightshirt.

A pang of admiration struck at your stomach, breath hitching within your throat. He was pretty — well-muscled for a young man, with sunkissed skin, smatterings of freckles along his shoulders. Jacaerys felt your lips press against the hollow of his throat, warmth fanning out from the simple contact.

“I want to take care of you, if you’ll let me.” Jace murmured, insistent on pleasuring you above all else. He knew very little of what ensued between a woman and a man within the confines of their bedchambers outside of the simple act itself, but it was easy to imagine.

Your lips parted, heat sinking into your bones as you reached for his curled tresses, digits slipping through his soft, dark locks. “Yes”, Your voice was barely above a whisper as you coaxed him in for another kiss, one charged with arousal and desire. “I want you, Jace.”

The heady, wanton way in which you spoke his name caused him to shiver, bare chest pressed snugly against your own. Even the veil of silken fabric could not hide your supple frame from him, the peaks of your breasts soft and pliant.

His kiss was so gentle — it was charged with lust despite its tame nature, not that you minded. You felt his hands fall to your hips, melding into your curves before he began to gather the fabric within his hands. Jacaerys looked to you before continuing, and you gave him a nod to signal your approval.

Silky gossamer slowly crawled up the length of your legs as Jace gathered your gown, sliding it upward. You couldn’t fight against the onslaught of molten heat that churned violently within your stomach, shamelessly pooling between your legs.

Jacaerys hesitated, likely thinking of what to do next. He had been educated on what consummation was, the act of making an heir — but there was more to it, more of you to explore. Curiosity consumed him as he placed his palm atop the bare skin of your thigh, using the other to ease you down onto your bed.

He sat beside you, leg to leg as he continued to push your nightgown up toward your hips, skirts gathering around the middle of your thighs. “May I?” Jace’s voice seemed to grow husky with arousal, desire burning its way through his veins.

Instead, you gingerly took a hold of his hand, guiding it underneath your gown as you parted your legs enough to allow him unhindered access. He caressed you wherever he could, shuddering when you held the trail of your nightgown in one hand to push it up around your hips.

You nearly squeaked when his palm brushed along your inner thigh, lips parting with a sharp exhale. Jace moved closer, as close as he could as his mouth graced your neck, digits inching toward the slick heat between your legs. When he found it, you let out a simpering whine, reaching for his forearm.

A hushed moan escaped you as two digits trailed across your cunt, exploratory and feather-light. Your hips canted forward into the sensation, desiring more — and Jace obliged, pushing both fingers inward until they slipped past your folds.

“Jace,” You whispered, eyes fluttering shut as he continued to pepper strings of sweet kisses along your neck, gown sagging enough to let him kiss your shoulder. “Do not stop, please.” That breathy plea exuded some power over him, and he was enthralled, prepared to do whatever you asked of him.

“Is that alright?” Jacaerys asked, digits becoming a touch more vigorous as he stroked at your slit, surprised at how wet you were. If it were a common thing, he would know what to expect in the future. His thumb grazed your clit, and you gasped.

With a soft hum of approval, you nodded, shifting your legs apart just a little more. “Y—Yes,” Absentmindedly, your fingers slipped from the taut muscle of his forearm to his hand, the one wedged underneath your gown. “I — Like this.” You instructed him to touch you how you had touched yourself.

Jacaerys watched through a half-lidded stare, beyond entranced with you. You were beautiful — so painfully ethereal that it made him want to kneel before you, a goddess made to be worshiped. You adjusted his fingers, ensuring that his thumb pressed against your clit with continuous pressure.

Despite his nonexistent experience, he was doing wonders for you — he was attentive and willing to learn your body as you saw fit. He was so handsome, lips curling into an affectionate smile before he kissed your jaw, digits continuing from where they’d left off.

Your palm fell across his thigh, nails beginning to dig themselves into the muscle there as he touched your clit, digits tracing around the rest of your cunt. The candlelight highlighted his features in such perfect detail, the illumination slight.

Reverence seeped into each action, every stroke of his fingers evoking a string of whimpers from you. He was passionate and careful, willing to learn your body better than you. He continued to caress your clit, the sensation sending jolts of electricity throughout your body.

His name became your prayer, devolving into desperate moans and whispered pleas as you rocked your hips into the sensation of his hand. “Jacaerys,” You sighed with passion, feeling the stirring within your stomach. Arousal consumed every part of you, just as it did him. “Jace.”

The dark-haired Prince let out a soft groan into the hollow of your throat, wanting you more than anything, and the hand you had perched atop his thigh did little to ease the fever. He kissed your neck again, scarlet-faced and beyond eager, whispering sweet nothings in High Valyrian against your skin.

Excitement and the heat of the moment seemed to get to you, as you used one hand to sloppily unlace the leather ties of his trousers. You wanted to touch him too, let him feel exactly how you felt — how he made you feel.

Jace shivered, not objecting, but he wanted to focus on you above all else. “What about you?” He asked, feeling his cock twitch with want. The ache he had for you was almost painful, threatening to tear him apart if he couldn’t find relief.

“Together,” You suggested, turning enough to crawl into his lap, much to his delight. Jacaerys held you steady, lips clamoring together in a messy flurry of tongue and adoration. It was the anticipation of youth — the desire and sentiments overrode everything else, made duty disappear. “You are perfect.”

His brief smile made all of your worry dissipate, fading into mere background noise. Your hands returned to the leather ties of his breeches once more, sluggishly loosening them. Jace steeled himself, a fire burning within his belly as you reached down.

A low, satisfied groan tore past his lips when your hand gently wrapped around his cock, searching his visage for any sign of discomfort. There was none — only desire, lust festering within his gaze. He resumed touching you, digits circling your clit once more.

Within your delicate grasp, his length hardened, your palm finding a careful rhythm. Your hips twitched, rolling into the sensation of his hand. It was heavenly — the way in which he handled you was gallant and gentle. Arousal continued to gather between your thighs, a new and sticky feeling.

Intermingled gasps and groans filled the air, the both of you clinging to one another. Jacaerys leaned forward, mouth seeking yours, the kiss hot and gentle. Between your careful, uncertain strokes along his length and his digits teasing your cunt, the both of you were lost within the throes of passion.

He slipped his other hand underneath your nightgown, with enough leverage to remove it, if he so desired. Jacaerys broke the kiss long enough to ask, chest heaving with heavier breaths. “May I?” He whispered, voice husky and hoarse with lust.

You nodded, maneuvering your arms over your head as your nightgown slipped to the floor, leaving you bare before Jacaerys. The saltwater breeze which fluttered through your quarters left you shivering, both from the brief chill and anticipation.

The awestruck way in which he stared at you left you hot, body feverish beneath his tempered gaze. He kissed your collarbone, eyes warm and affectionate. “You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.” He stated, nearly breathless. His heart was yours — every fiber of his being devoted itself to you.

Smitten beneath his sweetly-spoken compliments, you trailed your fingers throughout his soft curls. The other slyly descended to reach for his cock again, but Jacaerys seemed to place your hand aside. You seemed confused, head canting to one side. “Do you not like it?”

His bemused chuckle filled your chambers, amiable and as warm as a cozy hearth. “Of course I like it,” Jacaerys murmured, kissing along your jaw and neck, holding you as close as he could. “I’d like to focus on you. There’s something that I wanted to try, if you’ll allow it.”

Surprised, you seemed open to whatever he wanted to try. “Anything you want, you will have. It’s yours.” You expected him to put you on your knees or turn you on your stomach. Instead, he coaxed you down onto your back, getting you to lay down as he crawled between your parted legs.

His mouth pressed a string of affectionate kisses along your shoulder and collarbone, beginning to dip lower toward the perky swell of your breasts. You squirmed slightly, uncertain of where this would lead to. You trusted Jace to follow his own instinct.

Your back arched when his mouth graced your breast, pressing kisses all around the pliant flesh. A moan escaped you, signaling your pleasure as he wrapped his lips around one of your nipples, gingerly suckling on the pebbled bud.

“Jace,” You squeaked, one hand flying to his mountain of dark curls, pushing your fingers through. He touched you in a way that evoked a sense of yearning, as if you were the only woman in the realm. His hand kneaded into your chest, a shiver coursing through him whenever you moaned his name. “Please.”

Heat simmered through him, a wave of desire that only seemed to grow in intensity, demanding to be extinguished. Your flesh tasted saccharine upon his tongue, but there was something else he wanted to taste. As he kissed your chest, he released his lips from your breast, continuing his descent.

He kissed you everywhere, reverence seeping into each brush of his mouth as he traversed your body. Jacaerys pressed his lips against your stomach, and then to your hips, palms sliding against your thighs.

A sharp exhale escaped you as he peppered a string of kisses along the inside of your thigh, showering you in little pecks of affection before he flattened himself entirely. You swallowed the lump within your throat; the sight of Jace’s face wedged in between your legs made you shiver, arousal following suit.

Everything was gentle, even the way in which his veined hands gripped the pliant flesh of your thighs to let them rest against his shoulders. He hesitated, allowing you a moment to adjust and steel yourself before he dipped forward, tongue raking hot embers across your cunt.

The singular, experimental stroke of his tongue caused you to shiver, hands curling into fists. If you could melt away into your furs, you would’ve, feeling his mouth press kisses against your core. “Jace,” You whined, attempting to hold still and cease your squirming. “Don’t stop.”

It was all the encouragement he truly needed, digits soothingly caressing along your thighs as he began to lap at your cunt, adopting a pace that was a little less sluggish. He nearly groaned when he felt your hand grasp at his curled tresses, sinking in toward the base of his skull.

In the nighttime gloom of Dragonstone, you found warmth and comfort in one another — affections intensified, and whatever bond you had before was now redefined entirely. Jacaerys loved you, he had never been more sure of himself until now, dutifully bringing about your pleasure.

A myriad of soft whimpers and whines escaped you, hand gingerly tugging on Jace’s hair as he buried his mouth in the apex of your thighs. His tongue vigorously lapped and traced over your core, savoring your taste, committing it to memory. Bathed in moonlight, Jace appeared more ethereal than ever, the muscles flexing within his back.

With slow, eager laps of his tongue, Jacaerys made sure to savor you, letting it flick across your clit. The short, dizzying gasp that tore past your mouth spurred him on, as he pressed another string of kisses against your slit. The continued sensation of your digits carding through his curls made him sigh with elation.

He brought you closer, heart leaping into his throat when you began to writhe beneath him, hips tilting forward into each stroke of his mouth. “You’re perfect,” Jacaerys whispered, ensuring that you could hear it. Soft utterances of High Valyrian were etched into the flesh of your thigh. “Perfect.”

Blossoming beneath his sweet compliments, your fingers curled against his scalp, unable to lay still as Jace resumed his previous ministrations. The warmth of his tongue left you with a blistering want, stomach churning with a wave of arousal.

As he lapped at your clit again, you whimpered, moaning his name as if to keep his attention there. Jacaerys’s tender expression also bore a great deal of concentration, dark eyes flickering toward you. “There?” He uttered, hoping that you would guide him to where he needed to be.

Your head bobbed up and down against the furs, flesh beginning to glisten with the first inklings of perspiration. Everything felt feverishly hot, as if you would be turned to ash where you sat. Jacaerys was attentive and loving, following your breathy plea as he pursed his lips around the pearl of your cunt.

Jace shivered at the sounds you made, enticed by each whimper and moan, every twitch of your body. He suckled on the sensitive bundle of nerves, alternating between that and greedy, vigorous laps of his tongue. He let himself be lost within bliss, arousal mounting from pleasuring you.

You reached for his hand, fingers interlocking atop the swell of your hip as he continued to lap at your aching core. He squeezed your hand as a sign of reassurance, buried deep within your sweet cunt, something that he wanted to have again and again.

He was at your mercy, the heir to the Iron Throne, the Prince of Dragonstone — and you hadn’t the slightest clue. Jace’s brow creased in concentration as he focused on what spots made you squirm the most, continuing to dutifully lap at your clit until your knees trembled.

“Jace,” A needy moan left you, reverberating within the obsidian confines of your chambers. Arousal rushed through you, molten heat oozing from between your thighs, a nectar as sweet as honey. “I—I think I’m close.” You groaned, unsure if it was just the throes of ecstasy or reality.

Nevertheless, you were on the verge of reaching your peak, and you didn’t want him to stop. Instead, you urged his head forward, fingers laced within his dark curls, right at the nape of his neck. Jacaerys groaned in delight, thoroughly enjoying the way you continued to coax him inward — he happily devoured every drop.

With another barrage of his tongue assaulting your cunt, you whimpered, turning malleable within Jace’s hands. He knew that you were on the verge, and so he pursed his lips around your clit once more, and that was more than enough.

His name emerged from your lips like a reverent prayer, the only name that you knew in that moment. Your release was hot, like a rush of fire that didn’t simmer immediately. The residual sensation lingered, and Jace helped you through it.

Your thighs twitched, absentmindedly attempting to clench together, but Jace held you apart, soothing you with kisses along your thighs. The blissful, contented expression that soon followed was a beautiful one — Jace was shocked to know that he could do that to you, bring you to ruin.

His gallant smile gave you pause as you studied the rosy flush within his features, the glistening sheen of your arousal upon his lips. Jacaerys seemed entirely unphased, basking in your aftermath all the same, his curls tousled and disheveled.

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” Your tone was sheepish, realizing how much you’d tugged at his hair. If it were you, a tender-headed maiden, you would’ve been batting his hand away. Jace’s bemused chuckle caused you to duck your head.

Jace disarmed you with a charming, doting smile and a simple look of those earthen-brown eyes of his, and shook his head. “You could never hurt me,” He replied, his attempt at gentle flirtation. “I worry more for you.” His confession was soft-spoken.

The act of consummation was not intended to be a comfortable one — for a woman, at least. Jacaerys knew to broach this with care, to make sure that you were well enough before all else. He inched forward from between your thighs, resting his head atop your stomach.

He allowed you a moment of composure, feeling your digits trace the lines of his countenance, stroke at his tresses. Jace pressed a string of kisses all around your body, wherever his lips could reach. The moment was incredibly tender, lingering with the tension of a blossoming ardor.

Through the comfortable haze of silence, you cleared your throat, staring down at Jacaerys with what only could be described at a look of complete and utter adoration. He was so kind, so noble and gentle, yet with the fervor of the dragon’s blood, a desire to do good. You felt so fortunate, even moreso when he smiled at you, pressing a kiss to your hip.

“I want you, Jacaerys,” You whispered, watching as Jace began to sit up, letting your legs trap him on either side. “More than I’ve ever wanted anyone else.” It was the hitch within his throat that made you shiver, heart hammering beneath your breast as you began to confess your feelings — it was inevitable.

Jace reveled at the sight of you, naked and glimmering within the moonlit dusk, candlelight bathing your physique in shades of flickering orange. His descent was slow as he covered you with his body, lips parting to allow a shaky exhale before he kissed your brow. “You have my heart,” He uttered, forehead resting against yours. “Everything I am, is yours.”

Your palms moved to cup either side of his face, thumbs caressing along his cheekbones before you smiled, kissing the corner of his mouth. “I am yours.” You assured, your commitment resolute before the Gods — before Jacaerys Velaryon.

It was a poignant moment, one that seemed intermingled with the seriousness of your words, yet still tinged with the youthful excitement of a first love. He kissed you, slow and amorous, full of an unrestrained affection that no longer seemed weighed-down by unspoken sentiments.

“Are you certain that this is what you want?” Jace asked, his voice a soft caress through your haze of kisses. He would not fault you if you wanted to stop now — and he would if you wished it of him. As much as he desired you, he valued your virtue above his own.

“Yes,” You replied, your palms gliding from his soft visage to the taut muscle of his shoulders, lacing your fingers around the back of his neck. “Are you certain, too? I worry that you might regret lying with me.”

Jacaerys shook his head, brows furrowing together to reflect a semblance of disbelief. He reached down to caress your cheek, making sure that you understood every word. “Nothing in the world would ever make me regret this,” He murmured. “I’ve never been more certain about anything before.”

A brief stirring of adoration fluttered within your chest, and you knew that you wanted no one else ever again. You pulled yourself off of the mattress enough to kiss him, sinking into the sweet bliss of the moment as he reciprocated. His mouth moved in-tandem with yours, eyes beginning to flutter shut.

His hands planted themselves into the feathered pillow on either side of your head, but it didn’t last long. Jacaerys leaned back, maneuvering out of the leather of his trousers, flush against you once they were removed. You were so soft, like an ocean of silk beneath him.

He felt one of your legs hitch around his hips, bodies together beneath the furs. The chill of your chambers dissipated, replaced by the warmth of your skin. You kept your hands poised against his shoulders, dancing across the smattering of freckles there as you continued to kiss him, as if each one would be your last.

The hardened swell of his cock pressed against your lower stomach, and you could feel his breath grow heavier between kisses. He was perfect — flawless, so handsome that it made you ache with want.

Jace kissed you again and again, feeling the soft peaks of your breasts brush against his chest. He adjusted his weight, shifted his hips as he pressed the head of his length against your slick cunt. He was somewhat nervous — perhaps not as much as you, but anxious enough. He made sure to be careful, feeling your legs nudge themselves apart.

A look of mutual preparedness passed between you both, between your doe-eyed gaze of anticipation and Jace’s mounting look of want, there was little room left for uncertainty. He sat up enough to position himself against your aching core, his cock splitting past your folds before it prodded at your entrance.

You steeled yourself, and Jace made sure to be slow, afraid of hurting you enough to cause true discomfort. As he tilted forward, his length filled you, sheathing himself inside of you, inch by inch. Admittedly, it wasn’t a good feeling — not initially, anyway.

A sharp exhale escaped you as he bottomed out, staying still atop you as he allowed you time to grow accustomed to him. Waves of complete and utter bliss rolled through him, his own pleasure nearly overwhelming. You were tight, maidenhead intact for the next few moments until he began to move.

“Are you alright?” Jace whispered around the shell of your ear, pressing against you once more as he reassuringly kissed along the side of your face. He felt despicable for causing you any amount of pain, but you seemed to dismiss his concern.

“I am,” You placated him with a smile, coaxing him in for a kiss. It was best if you didn’t think about it — and with time, it would feel better. Everything was awkward and clumsy, the follies of youth, but as Jace began to move, a fire began to burn within your belly. “Jace.” You sighed, keeping your leg around his hips.

A soft groan resonated beside your ear as Jace adopted a sluggish rhythm, not wanting to intensify things so quickly. Your eyes fluttered shut, body content to bend to his thrusts, grow accustomed to the act itself. He reciprocated your kiss, black curls falling in front of his temples.

Bliss soon replaced discomfort, the more you allowed yourself to adjust. You shifted your legs further apart, one hand falling toward his bicep, the other remaining tangled at the nape of his neck. The sounds of your lovemaking soon filled your chambers, with your foreheads pressed together.

Your name fell from his tongue in a needy groan, and it made you shiver, body reacting with a barrage of gooseflesh along your spine. Perspiration grew upon his brow as he maintained his pace, digits curling into the furs on either side of you.

The sound of your pleasured moans made him feel better, a sign that you were no longer riddled with soreness and irritation. Jace pressed a trail of hot, messy kisses along your face, reaching to the sweet spot beneath your jaw. He kept himself anchored there, feeling your hand squeeze at his bicep.

“Jace!” You squeaked, flushed at the growing lewdness of the noises — the squelching, the passionate groans and heavy breathing. He was perfect, cock filling you in a way that left you completely satisfied. Jace felt your hand fall away from his bicep, reaching for his own, interlocked hands falling back against the cushions.

He shuddered, reveling in the way your cunt tightened around him, the sensation of your hand within his hair, hands joined at your side. Jace’s pace began to quicken, but only somewhat, enough to really feel the myriad of pleasure take hold.

You yearned for him in every way imaginable; your body ached with each movement, every thrust as he leisurely moved in and out of you. His cock pulsated with a dull throbbing, enough to fill his belly with a raging fire. He kissed you again, lips traversing wherever they saw fit, peppering every inch of your sweet skin.

Time seemed to move agonizingly slow in your presence — Jacaerys wouldn’t want it any other way. If he could capture this moment, he would’ve. Every moment was graced by a warm intimacy that sank into his very bones, his adoration for you furthered with each roll of his hips, sheathing himself inside of you.

His soft lips graced your collarbone, continuing to make love to you in the only way he knew how. It was passionate and gentle, in a way reserved for the deepest of lovers. Jace grunted when your hips involuntarily rolled upward to grind against him, lips parting as he squeezed your hand.

At last, he lifted his head, your eyes locking together. Your countenance was exceptionally beautiful, especially when painted with the shade of desire, and it had him aching with want. His jaw tensed when you brushed dark curls away from his eyes, palm lingering long enough to pull him down for a kiss.

His cock continued to hit your cunt with a tame fervor, filling you completely, testing your limits as he neared his peak. Jacaerys knew that there would be more moments like these in the future — his energy was waning, and perhaps, the unfamiliarity of it all contributed to this.

Your name spilled from his tongue, throat echoing with a soft groan as his pace became slightly erratic. It was difficult to control himself amidst chasing after his release, but he maintained what little composure he had, gritting his teeth together as he thrust into you again.

Pleasure contorted into ecstasy, becoming an unstoppable wave that was quick to take hold of him. Concentration intermingled with bliss were etched into his features, face pressing against yours, nearly breathless as you kissed him again.

With a groan, Jacaerys rocked forward again, spilling himself inside of you. In hindsight, it was both brazen and feckless, done in the heat of the moment, but he cared little of it for the time being. His cock throbbed, thrusting into you again a time or two before he stilled completely.

Heavy pants resonated between you both as you caught your breath, flush against one another in the aftermath. You pressed a kiss against Jace’s cheek, trailing your fingers throughout his hair. He was quick to kiss you, gathering his composure before he pulled himself out of you.

A rush of sticky warmth slathered the inside of your thighs, leaving behind a feeling of slight discomfort. Jace gathered a cloth for you to clean yourself with, returning to lay beside you as he rucked the furs up around your bodies. The air was colder at nightfall, injected with a saltwater mist.

“I apologize if I hurt you,” Jacaerys uttered, dark brows furrowing together as you wriggled closer, resting your head atop his bare chest. Your arm draped over him, allowing yourself to be close, a feeling that he wanted more than anything else. “It was not my intention.” He kissed the top of your head.

“You didn’t,” You replied, tracing soft patterns against his skin, angling your head up enough to kiss him. Jace cupped your jaw, leaning in to deepen the tender entanglement, lost within the bliss of your lips. “You would never hurt me.”

Jacaerys was fiercely protective over you, that much was true — even from himself. He kept an arm wrapped around you, cradling you at his side as he gazed into your eyes. He could see you, then — his beloved wife, the future Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. Perhaps it was too early to tell, but he knew.

As the both of you settled in together, your maidenhead now lost, you couldn’t help but smile. Jacaerys had made your first experience more than anyone ever could — you hoped that it would stay that way forever. “Does your offer of teaching High Valyrian still stand?” You mused.

A huff of amusement left Jacaerys as he turned his head enough to look at you, a smile playing at either corner of his mouth. “I thought you wanted those dusty old books.” Admittedly, his offering of those damned texts is what started this in the first place — he had to be grateful.

“I knew that you would be kind enough to bring them to me,” You confessed, nose wrinkling in amusement. “An excuse to see you.” The look on Jace’s face was one of theatrical shock, and you erupted into a fit of laughter when he squeezed your hip.

“You might grow tired of me, if I am to teach you High Valyrian.” Jacaerys mused, his smile one of complete and utter warmth. Anyone would know that his love for you was obvious — there wasn’t any subtlety about it.

You shook your head, comfortably sinking against him, your upper body lounging atop him. “I could never grow tired of you, Jacaerys Velaryon.” You exhaled, exhaustion beginning to grip you. It was bound to happen eventually, given the abnormally late hour.

Jace was thankful that you weren’t looking — his face was dusted with a rather obvious layer of pink, and yet, the feeling was beyond satisfying. The two of you allowed the silence to sink through, accompanied by the sound of the encroaching tide as it broke upon the jagged rock and cliff sides surrounding Dragonstone.

“Will you stay?” You asked, hoping that he would be agreeable to it. It was a risky proposition, but Jace knew that he couldn’t leave you after this — he didn’t want to, either. No one would come clamoring about within his chambers at first light.

“Of course,” He murmured, lips twitching into a sweet smile. “Though, I should go at the first light of dawn.” Jace’s tone was one of clear disappointment, but it was best to keep suspicions low. You knew that he had duties that transcended you — he was the Prince of Dragonstone, the heir — and you were not betrothed.

A sense of understanding settled onto your features, but you still wanted him by your side — you wished that you could wake up next to him. “I hope that dawn never comes, then.” You whispered, taking his hand within yours as you pressed a kiss against his palm, knowing that there would be many more dawns to come with him at your side.

copyright @ swordgrace; please do not translate, steal, or copy my works and post them onto other platforms or claim as your own.

#house of the dragon #hotd x reader #jacaerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys velaryon x you #jacaerys targaryen x reader #jacaerys targaryen x you #jacaerys x reader #jacaerys x you #house of the dragon fanfiction #house of the dragon smut #jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys targaryen #hotd smut #hotd fanfic

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tongue-like-a-razor · 7 months ago

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Brother's Best Friend - Part 12

Jake Seresin x F!Reader

A/N: Trying to get back into these two. Did we miss them?

Summary: The trials and tribulations of falling for your brother's best friend.

CW: mild angst, swearing, fluff

WC: 2600+

Part 1 | Masterlist

“So…” Jake pauses and purses his lips to suppress a mischievous smile. “When did you start liking me?”

You look down at your lap where his head has been resting for the last five minutes. “Did I tell you I like you?”

Jake meets your gaze and snorts. He reaches up to take your hand off the keyboard of your laptop and brings it down over his chest. “Indirectly,” he admits.

You roll your eyes, recalling when you had expressed to Bradley – in Jake’s presence – how ‘your guy’ makes you feel. You pull your hand out of his grasp and look back up at the screen in front of you. “I have to work, Jake.”

“You’re too hardworking,” Jake responds with a whine.

You shake your head with a grin. “Such a dreadful habit, I know. I’m working on it – wait. Damn, I see what you mean –”

Jake starts chuckling and his head tickles your bare thighs. “You’re so fucking cute.”

You press your lips together as your smile broadens. “When did you start liking me?” you ask.

Jake releases a heavy sigh and sits up. “Alright, enough chitchat. Get to work.”

You watch him rise to his feet and make his way into the kitchen, curious why he so abruptly decided to change the subject. “Got any plans this weekend?” you ask casually, wondering if he’ll finally ask you out on a date. The two of you have been sneaking around for a while, but your only outings together have been with Bradley, so you couldn’t even hold hands. Thus far, you’ve assumed that Jake is just waiting for the right moment to speak with Bradley before the two of you make your relationship official but, as time goes on, you become increasingly skeptical that Jake actually intends to come clean.

Jake shrugs. “Not really. Just hangin’ with your bro.”

You try your best not to frown. “Sounds fun.”

Jake walks back over to you and sets a bowl of strawberries on the table by your laptop. You glance up at him inquisitively and he responds with, “You haven’t eaten since breakfast.”

You give him a smile. “Neither have you.”

He nods. “Which is how I know you’re hungry.”

“Thanks,” you say. “As soon as I’m through with this part, I’ll move all this shit and we can have some lunch.” You gesture at the pile of literature currently cluttering your workspace.

Jake takes a seat adjacent to you at the table and lets out another sigh. “I don’t know,” he says.

You shift your gaze from your computer to look in his direction. “Don’t know what? If you want lunch?” You pick up a strawberry and pop it into your mouth.

Jake is observing you carefully and you stop chewing because the attention makes you uncomfortable. “I don’t know when…” he says, pausing as though he isn’t sure how to continue. “When, uh… I don’t know at what point” – he exhales sharply – “I have no clue when I f – when I started to see you as more than just Bradley’s sister. As more than a friend.”

You raise your eyebrows at him, your mouth still full of half-chewed strawberry.

“I think I just realized, at one point, that I’d rather spend time with you than with anyone else,” he admits.

You finish chewing awkwardly before responding with, “Huh.”

Jake stares at you expectantly, as though you should have something to add.

But you’re not really sure what to say. You’ve been crushing on Jake for an embarrassingly long time and he does not have clearance for that kind of classified intel, especially since his interest in you is far more recent. What does he want, anyway? A pat on the back for finally figuring it out?

“Your turn,” he says, clearing his throat and leaning back in his chair with an air of confidence.

You purse your lips as though you’re in thought. “Not sure,” you say vaguely.

Jake narrows his eyes. “Not sure? Or don’t want to say?”

You meet his gaze tentatively. “I probably liked you before you liked me.”

Jake watches you with a slight grin. “In that case, you were very good at hiding it.”

…

You arrive at the pub already slightly tipsy after pre-drinking at your friend’s house. In fact, you’re drunk enough to not give two shits that Jake has, once again, decided to spend his Saturday night with Bradley. This time, he didn’t even invite you along.

Once inside, you head straight for the bar; no sense in wasting time waiting for a table. You grab a drink and take a look around the crowded establishment. That’s when you see him.

Jake fucking Seresin is sitting at a table near the back – not with your brother. You stare at him – and his female companion – in horror for a few moments, letting the scene sink in. Wondering if you’re in the wrong for being shocked. Are the two of you even exclusive? This has never actually been discussed. But one thing is certain: Jake lied, which makes you sick to your stomach.

You slide off your barstool and, cocktail in hand, you make your way to the little table in the back where your supposed boyfriend – or whatever he is – sits entertaining another woman. It’s not long before Jake notices your presence because you’re making quite a spectacle on your way over as you furiously skirt every person in your path.

Jake looks uncomfortable and that satisfies you greatly. “Hey,” he says when you arrive.

You gape at him. “Hey?” you exclaim in outrage.

“Uh,” Jake stalls for a moment. He turns to his date and says, “This is Bradley’s sister.”

The woman opposite Jake smiles at you but you’re too busy glaring at Jake to acknowledge her. “That’s all you want to say about me?”

Jake watches you pointedly. “What else do you want me to say about you?” He looks back at his date and lets out a nervous chuckle.

“Are you fucking kidding me, Seresin?” you shriek, slamming your stemmed glass onto their table so aggressively that your sour apple martini splashes over the rim.

Jake jerks back to avoid getting wet and then looks up at you in alarm. “What’s the matter with you?”

You shake your head at him in disappointment and then turn abruptly to leave. You expect Jake to grab your hand, or follow you out, but he does neither. In fact, you make it all the way back to the bar before you realize that Jake is not even looking in your direction. You see him laughing together with his female friend, as though they both just witnessed something absurd and worthy of repeating in the future for a good chuckle.

“Hey, isn’t that your brother’s aviator buddy?” your friend says, nodding toward the back of the pub.

You roll your eyes and then turn toward the bar, realizing you left your drink at Jake’s table.

“He’s kind of hot,” you friend continues. “But he’s got fuckboy written all over him.”

You close your eyes and sigh. You have nobody to blame but yourself. You know Jake. What in the world made you think he would become a different person if he were with you?

…

The following day, you wake up past noon with a debilitating migraine. You hear Bradley and Jake’s voices drift up from the kitchen and groan. You’re not in the mood to face Jake after the events of the previous evening. You ended up going home shortly after confronting him and you have no idea where he ended up. Probably in bed, and probably not alone.

You get dressed unhurriedly, dizzy from the pain and, on your way downstairs, you grip the banister tightly just in case. The kitchen is excruciatingly bright, and you cringe upon entering, shielding your face from the open window like a vampire.

“Oh, hey sleepyhead!” your brother greets you.

You grunt in response and head straight for the coffee pot. “Is this fresh?” you ask.

“Nope!” Bradley replies cheerily.

You pour yourself a mug anyway and put it in the microwave, turning to face the two of them while your coffee warms.

Jake meets your gaze with a stoic expression.

“How was your night?” Bradley asks with a grin, clearly seeing that you’re hungover.

“Fine,” you say monotonously.

Bradley raises his eyebrows. “It’s the enthusiasm for me,” he says with a smirk, looking over at Jake.

Jake, however, ignores him and grabs his jacket from the back of one of the kitchen chairs. “You ’bout ready, Bradshaw? I ain’t got all day.”

“Alright, alright,” Bradley says. “Let me get my stuff.”

Bradley jogs over to the staircase and runs up to grab his duffel bag. Meanwhile, you are deliberately avoiding Jake’s gaze as you lean your back into the kitchen counter. Jake stuffs his hands into his pockets and is also not looking at you. When Bradley returns a few minutes later, disrupting the silence with a melodic whistling, the two of you have not moved an inch from where you’d been standing when he left. Even though the microwave has beeped at you twice.

“What’s with you two?” he asks, pausing in the doorway.

“Nothing,” Jake responds curtly. “Let’s go.”

Bradley glances between the two of you. “Okay,” he says slowly, his gaze lingering on you in particular. “See you later, sis,” he says.

You wave a distracted hand in his direction and head for the couch with your coffee, nearly bumping into Jake as you cross paths because neither of you is looking at the other.

“Sorry,” Jake mutters, stepping aside to let you pass. His hand goes up instinctively to guide you but he catches himself before letting it rest on your arm.

“It’s fine,” you say, wavering slightly on the spot. You squeeze your eyes shut for a moment and press a couple of fingers into your temple.

“You okay?” he asks, his eyebrows converging as he tries to catch your gaze.

“I said I’m fine.” You sigh, trying to walk around him.

“Seresin, you coming, or what?” Bradley calls from the foyer.

Jake hesitates as you finally pass him, and then yells back. “I’ll meet you there!”

Bradley waits a moment as though he’s still trying to figure out what’s going on. Then you hear the front door open and Bradley shout, “Don’t be late!” as he exits the house.

Jake trails after you into the living room and, when you lower yourself onto the couch, he crouches down in front of you, placing a hand on your knee. “Migraine?” he asks.

You nod slowly so as not to exacerbate the pain.

Jake’s hand gives your leg a soft squeeze. “Have you eaten?”

You cringe. “Please don’t talk to me about food right now,” you beg.

“Did you take anything?”

You shake your head. “I’m out.”

Jake gets to his feet. “I’ll go pick up some meds for you,” he says.

You glance up at him miserably. “You’re going to be late.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he responds, already on his way out.

…

Jake returns not ten minutes later with your medication and a bag full of snacks. “I heard dark chocolate is good for migraines,” he says, holding out a block for you as you swallow your pills.

“I’m not hungry, Jake,” you say weakly, closing your eyes and lying back down on the couch.

Jake sighs, sitting down on the floor beside you and starting to unwrap the chocolate. “You need to eat something,” he says, breaking off a piece. “I also have gummy worms and popcorn.”

You open your eyes. “I love gummy worms,” you whisper.

Jake grins. “I know,” he whispers back.

You take the chocolate square from his hand and he busies himself with opening the bag of gummy worms while you let the chocolate melt in your mouth. A moment later, he hands you a gummy worm and you stick it between your teeth and bite. “Oh my god, it’s so good,” you moan. The motion of chewing helps alleviate some of the pain in your temple and you sigh blissfully, closing your eyes.

Jake leans his back into the wall adjacent the couch and pops a gummy worm into his mouth. For a while, the two of you sit in silence. Then, he says, “You wanna talk about it?”

“Not really,” you say.

Jake shakes his head and you can sense his irritation without even looking at him. “This isn’t going to work if you don’t trust me.”

You turn to give him a flat look. “Would you trust you, Seresin?”

Jake squares his jaw. “I have never given you a reason not to trust me.”

“You lied to me! You said you were meeting Bradley!”

“I was! He was running late.”

You watch him sourly. “And you just happened to pick up a girl while you were waiting?”

Jake returns your bitter glare. “Is that actually what you think?”

“I don’t know what to think,” you say, sitting upright to look him in the eye. “You weren't exactly forthcoming with an explanation.”

Jake sets the gummy worms on the couch and gets to his feet. “The girl was there for Bradley. He was running late. End of story.”

“You couldn’t tell me that yesterday?”

“She’s seeing Bradley! And he doesn’t know about us. It’s not like I can say, ‘Oh, by the way, I’m actually dating your boyfriend’s little sister and that’s why she’s acting like a nutcase. Brb.’”

You fold your arms, sulking. Did you consider the possibility that the woman Jake was sitting with wasn’t his date? Briefly. But you were already annoyed with Jake and that, combined with your less than sober state, was apparently a recipe for disaster. “I guess I don’t trust you,” you say with a shrug, even though this statement isn’t altogether true.

Jake places his hands on his hips, exhaling slowly. “Why?” he asks, sounding exasperated.

You stay silent and continue to brood.

Jake pinches the bridge of his nose and grimaces as though this conversation is wearing him out. Then, he lets out another sigh and crouches before you again, trying to catch your gaze as he places his hands in your lap, palms up. “Why?” he asks calmly, waiting for you to join hands with him.

You do. “Well, why would I?” you say quietly, hesitating before you continue. “What is this, even? What are we? Do you know? Because I don’t.”

Jake’s eyebrows knit together. “What are you talking about?”

“Well, why haven’t you told Bradley yet? Is it because you’re not sure you want to make this official? Is it because it’s just a fling so why bother?” You cringe inwardly, hating how insecure you sound.

Jake stares at you in wonder, as though this line of thinking has never even crossed his mind.

“Like, are we even exclusive?”

Jake’s eyes widen and he blinks at you in awe. “We fucking better be,” he retorts, his hold on your hands tightening slightly.

“Well, how would I know that?” you exclaim.

Jake brings his hands up to his face and rubs his eyes. “Jesus fuck, how would you not know that?”

You scoff at him. “Because you’ve never once been in an exclusive relationship! Not while I’ve known you, anyway. Do you even know how?”

Jake’s hands slide down his face and stay over his mouth as he gapes at you. When his hands finally drop back into your lap, you can see that he’s got a small smile on his face. “You’ve got nothing to worry about,” he says finally.

You lower your gaze, not exactly comforted considering he still has not addressed your main concern: Bradley.

Jake stands up and pulls you up off the couch. He puts his arms around you and you rest your head against one of his giant shoulders, allowing him to cradle you lovingly.

“Why haven’t you told Bradley?” you mutter into his shirt.

Jake pulls away from you and runs a hand through his hair uneasily. “I’m scared, Baby B,” he admits. “I’m scared he’s gonna make me choose.”

Read Part 13

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seiwas · 7 months ago

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₊˚⊹｡ don't let go, okay? | gojo satoru

wc: 2.1k

summary: it has to be some sort of fate that you happen to be stuck with gojo on valentine's day.

contains: f!reader, slowburn, fluff, reader and gojo are 21, reader and gojo are ‘guardians’ to megumi and tsumiki but they are not romantically together, japanese valentine’s chocolate tradition, reader’s cursed technique (vaguely), kind of pining

a/n: in the 'conversations on love' universe but takes place before the main series (would be nice to read but not necessary to understand this). theme song for this is what love is by zimmer90.

part of 'do you know what love is like?', a mini-series of almost's within 'conversations on love'. also included in how to be your lover boy (a valentine's collab by augustinewrites & seiwas)

The night is crisp when you step into it, the clean cut of a cool breeze tickling your cheek; it sweeps past you in the edge of winter and spring.

You walk along the street.

A sort of faded, vintage hue paints Shimokitazawa, wooden boards with worn down signages holding names of antique shops in every corner. The night feels older here, retro lights tinging bars and pubs more maturely than those nearby in Shibuya. At the street across, the sign of a cafe is flipped the other way to formally open the speakeasy it transforms into.

You’ve only been here twice before: once with Nanami and Utahime years ago, while searching for old vinyl records the three of you had gotten into, and another with Tsumiki, some time last month because she’d mentioned wanting to check the thrift shops.

Who would have thought you’d be back so soon? With—

“Satoru,” you call out, half-giggling, “why are you sniffing?”

Gojo trails just a few inches behind you, body bent over closely to catch a whiff but not near enough to touch. Each inhale he takes is punctuated with the sound of whizzing air, condensing to fit through his nostrils.

“You smell like chocolate.”

Out of all the plans you’d anticipated on Valentine’s Day, being roped into a mission with Gojo at the last minute was definitely not one of them.

You shake your head knowingly, the corners of your lips curling; Gojo can smell sweets miles away, you could honestly mistake it for his cursed technique.

He pulls back, falling into step with you.

“Tsumiki asked me to help make some earlier.”

Heavy jazz floats through the air as you pass by a bar entrance, the music muffling as the doors fall shut a few seconds later. Your boots clack against the pavement.

“Oh?” Gojo perks up, voice turning an all-too-familiar hint of nosy as he teases, “What kind?”

You snort as you dig your hands further into your pockets. For someone who claims to be all-seeing and all-knowing, Gojo is a lot more inquisitive than he seems; his nonchalance is but an added security much like his infinity is, dissipating only in company he’s comfortable sharing that side of him with.

It’s been a while since Gojo’s been ‘home’ in the past week, so you don’t blame him for wondering.

“Tomo mostly,” your gaze shifts to the side, waiting for his reaction, “though I did notice her sneaking a few honmei ones when I wasn’t looking.”

There’s a slight stagger to his step as his shoulders tense up, his sunglasses shifting higher as his ears push back. You bite down your laugh.

For as clueless as both you and Gojo are when it comes to being guardians to Megumi and Tsumiki, you think Gojo’s grown an odd mix of semi-brotherly-kind of-fatherly-mostly-guardianly protectiveness over the both of them—to Tsumiki especially. You can tell because his reminders to Megumi are always sealed with some form of ensuring Tsumiki makes it home safely.

‘Home’, which is where the kids stay, but it’s neither yours nor his—just a place nearby that keeps them protected and comfortable. You’re with them most days, Gojo staying when he can, but with the higher-ups assigning him on missions left and right, there’s hardly any time for him to drop by. Hell, you haven’t seen much of him either, besides the rare instances of bumping into him along the halls of Jujutsu Tech, a whine almost always drawn from his throat.

You see his curiosity as an effort to check in.

He only hums, hollower than his usual responses. The sound of his footsteps fill the gaps of what would typically be a seamless back-and-forth with you; you try not to comment on it.

Indinstinct chatter brings the street to life, smooth beats cascading warmth against the chilly breeze. Despite the noise, Gojo’s silence feels unsettling—as if there are words forming at the tip of his tongue, withheld for reasons you can’t quite get a read on just yet.

So, you wait, learning more and more that he usually comes around when—

“Did you?”

The question is half-murmured, part of it lost to the night.

Did you what? Notice Tsumiki?

“Hm?” you tilt your head towards him, tucking strands of hair behind your ear in an attempt to hear him better.

He doesn’t answer.

You stop walking.

“Did I what?” you adjust your coat before turning towards him, catching the slightest of his gaze before he looks away quickly.

(“Did you make honmei chocolate?” he means.)

Still, no answer.

The tips of Gojo’s ears dust pink, and you try not to comment on that too.

His bottom lip is pulled between his teeth, slipping free before his Adam’s apple bobs, swallowing.

“Wanna see something cool?” he changes the subject, removing his sunglasses and turning back to you as if none of it happened. As if he didn’t ask you anything, as if you didn’t ask what he meant—as if you didn’t just catch him at the tail end of a wistful stare.

The shift in his tone happens so suddenly, it feels disjointed. Unnatural. But you’ve gotten used to moments like this from knowing him for so long; Gojo always says less of what he truly means.

You focus on his face, yellow and red retro lights dancing on clear blue. He looks almost freakish this way, otherworldly—a crazed look you’ve gotten familiar with. His hands are stuffed inside his pockets when he stops, gangly long legs outstretched by the shadow beneath him.

There’s really no time to be doing this right now, the both of you just 10 minutes away from the mission’s location—an abandoned building housing a special grade curse that lures people in with fabricated memories. Around you, the neighborhood’s nightlife has dwindled, your walk thus far having brought you farther from the heart of the place and closer to somewhere quieter, more secluded.

Gojo looks too excited, eyes beaming wonder and mischief along with something else you can’t quite figure out yet. You purse your lips in thought.

“C’mon, it’ll be quick.” he smirks, the dimple on his cheek deepening as he shrugs, “I’ve finally perfected it.”

A beat—skipped before your heart races.

You wonder if he knows, if he’s using this to his advantage, because—

—when have you ever denied him when he looks at you this way?

The higher-ups should have known better than to pair you together for a mission. Your instructions were merely ‘to assist’, but you hardly believe it considering Gojo almost always handles these things on his own. It’s more babysitting, you know, to keep the damages of his technique to a minimum.

They shouldn’t have called on you, of all people—you’re on Gojo’s side. Always.

A smile threatens to escape your lips, warmth spreading within your cheeks; you roll your eyes jokingly, stifling a giggle before relenting.

“Fine.”

He guides you forward, chest bumping against your shoulder blade as he picks up pace. It’s a clear road ahead of you, the streets emptying out to more greenery; your senses are filled with the smell of the earth mixed in with the faint cotton of Gojo’s cologne.

This is bad for your feelings.

(Being this close to you feels like the ticklish drag of fingernails just right before it creates indents in his chest.)

There’s something brewing between you and Gojo, neither of you have just addressed it yet. He pulls away when the moment is too close but still looks for you first after missions, an almost automatic question to either Shoko or Ijichi about your whereabouts.

You’ve been catching his stares too, almost always at the split-second before he turns away—a reaction on impulse. The silence between you feels fuller lately, as if there are words he wants to say but is choosing to withhold.

When the space is vacant enough, he steps a few inches to your right, left hand stuffed inside his pocket as he shakes his arm hesitantly, almost awkwardly.

“You have to hold on to me,” he instructs you.

Your eyes widen, equally surprised and shy as you slowly take your hand out of your coat and slip it into the empty space, resting it on the crook of his elbow. Gojo freezes very slightly.

He shakes it off just as quickly, “You might be sensitive to my domain because of your technique, so stay close just to be safe.”

Then, his head tilts towards you, a little closer than you’re both used to. This near, his eyes hold a perfect morning sky, eyelashes hanging like wispy clouds on a clear day.

Your gazes meet and you blink twice, goosebumps littering your skin.

“Don’t let go, okay?”

Another beat—followed by another, and another, the sound of it growing louder.

You almost miss the way he says it gentler than normal, how sincere it feels with his breath tickling your cheek.

“Okay,” your fingers curl around his arm tighter.

He lifts his other hand up, crossing his fingers as he recites the mantra to his domain. In an instant, the greenery around you disappears, stark white taking its place.

“What do you think?” Gojo asks almost immediately, crossing his arms over his chest. Your fingers stay curled onto the crook of his elbow, sandwiched between his forearm and bicep; his other hand rests a few centimeters away from yours, nearly touching.

You scan the space, examining its vastness. Minimalist. A blank sheet—

“It’s…” you try to find the right words, “... empty?”

He gasps exaggeratedly, “Hey!” then pouts in fake offense, “I made it porcelain white at least. This isn’t pure white you know.”

You eye him from the side.

He chuckles, breaking his act, “You should be honored.”

A pause—his tone shifting to something softer, more vulnerable.

“You’re the first person I’m bringing in here.”

His admission is unexpected, but it feels relevant, makes you feel like it, too.

You’re touched, knowing how secretive he’s been on perfecting his domain since Toji and Geto; he only ever tells you and Ijichi about it. No one ever pressured him into achieving his perfect domain, but he feels like his existence necessitates it.

“It’s clean,” you finally say, playing along, “I like it.”

He eyes you this time, dimples deepening the more he attempts to poorly push down his smile.

“Shame I can’t really do much with it, would have wanted to spice up the interiors a bit.”

You snort, knowing full well that Gojo’s very much the type to pick one piece of furniture and anchor the entire place’s aesthetic off of that.

“Someday,” you catch his eyes again.

(It echoes in his ears, the quickening thump of his heartbeat—pink noise that can’t possibly be a product of your technique.

In the silence of his domain, all he hears is that sound and you.)

He hums before looking back to the empty space, “Acoustics would be good by then, we can try your technique in here.”

You nod, the corners of your lips curling; his pinky presses against yours so faintly you wonder if you just imagined it—if he had meant it or not.

The special grade is dealt with within a quarter of the time it took you to travel to here, but Gojo seems to bear the consequences with another one of his migraines—a mixture of fatigue from activating his domain earlier along with sensitivity from the increased bustle in Shimokitazawa’s night life as you exit the neighborhood.

You make a mental note to get him something that covers his eyes a little bit more than those circle frames he uses—an imbued blindfold maybe? You’ll have to think about it some more.

(When you both get ‘home’, you set up the couch, offering him the spare bedroom so he can sleep off the headache. It’s a quick trip to the kitchen for a glass of water when he catches a glimpse of it—a fully decorated box of honmei chocolate partially hidden at the corner of the counter.

The card has half of his name written in your handwriting.

You don’t end up giving it, but he does receive some chocolates from you, still. It’s a belated gift the next day, along with the ones you gift to Shoko, Yaga, and Ijichi—a tradition you’ve kept up since you were 16.

But, his box has an extra piece, and you even tailored each one to all his favorite flavors: sakura, strawberry, zunda, and anko; his card is the same one you left half-written, just now fully spelling ‘Satoru’.

So, he thinks his might be a bit more special, and he’s realizing that he likes it that way—he might prefer it much more, actually.)

a/n: haven't written col in a while but this is the official launch of 'do you know what love is like?', a mini-series of almost's within the 'conversations of love' universe! there are lots of details that connect to some of the col works but this happens before all of the ones released so far (so you don't need to read the main series to understand this, but it would add to the full experience if you do!).

thank you notes: @augustinewrites love u my valentine, this fic wouldn't exist without you 🥹 + @stellamancer col couple is here!! with chocolates!! thank you for going over this for the first read 🥹 ily niku + @mididoodles @twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat my cheerleaders!! thank you for the support always 🥹

comments, tags, and reblogs are greatly appreciated ♡

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demonicbaby666 · 5 months ago

Note

hi pookie🥰 any chance you’d write a fic where fem!r has never had an orgasm and Emily thinks she can change that?!

Never Have I Ever

One shot | Criminal Minds Masterlist | Masterlists

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Pairing: Emily Prentiss x fem!Reader

Genre: Smut

Words: 2.9k+

Warnings: 18+, minors DNI, oral sex, fingering (r!receiving), top!Emily, bottom!reader, reader is also a bit yapper, there's like the tiniest bit of fluff if you squint at the end

Summary: A history shadowed by unfulfillment and shortcomings in the bedroom was an unfortunate reality for you. It was why one night, when you found yourself alone at a bar at the centre of a certain stranger's attention, it didn't seem so outlandish to give something new a try.

A/n: She's backkkkkk! and probably not gonna post for another month UwU... Also, thank you as always to the lovely, amazing @hotchscvm for reading it through and giving me live reactions MWAH <3

The music, that’s what you remember: the sound of smooth saxophones, sweet piano chords and the occasional tick of a snare drum. It played perfectly in your ears as you sat alone at a local bar, nursing an exceptionally balanced martini on that sublime Friday evening. The weather was pleasant, and the previous company was friendly after a tiresome day—interesting enough to engage you but casual enough not to exhaust you. And it all ended with the quiet buzzing of a vacated table and an inviting presence beckoning you to the bar.

End the night at an appropriate time, take an Uber home and perhaps dodge a frightful hangover or walk over to the exceedingly beautiful brunette sitting alone, get close enough to her lips to smell the rich whiskey that was being lazy swirled around in her tumbler, and perhaps taste the sharpness of the distilled grain on her tongue? It was your decision to make.

Her eyes, the bitter shade of coffee, sweetly called for your attention, flickering to and from the empty seat beside her. It was not so much a command as it was a challenge. The playful glint in her eyes told you as much. She studied you with piqued interest that was far from unwelcome and filled your stomach with a reverent fire you had not experienced in quite some time. You ached for more.

Mind made up, you grabbed your drink, slung your purse strap over your shoulder, and walked over to this enticing stranger. And as you did so, you took care in matching the sway of your hips to the lulling melody of a saxophone, enjoying the view of the brunette’s pink tongue peeking out to wet her lips. The fire in your stomach roared.

You set your drink down and slid onto the bar stool, noting how you were observed. It was neither clinical nor invasive. It was more inquisitive. Like the older woman was trying to figure you out without so much as asking you a question, and honestly, with how her eyes squinted and her lips curled ever so slightly at the edges, you believed she might already have you read.

It was nothing short of intimidating to feel so bare whilst completely clothed, well completely clothed with a generous helping of cleavage. There was an itch to be on evening footing with this illustrious stranger, enough to start a dangerous game.

“Never have I ever…” you purred.

The game was well received, and you found that Emily, you discovered was her name, was rather bold. She didn’t shy away from any question you threw her way. If anything, they seemed to amuse her. By the time she’d come to ask you the question that turned the evening’s tide, Emily was coming close to needing a third drink.

“Never have I ever slept with a woman,” she said, her gaze so attentive it was almost unnerving to leave your drink untouched.

She was disappointed. You saw it in her eyes, in the way she threw her head back to down the remainder of her whiskey. You knew she wasn’t grimacing from the burn. No, the ice had melted a long time ago and watered down the rich liquor. The lines of displeasure around her mouth came from realising the evening was probably all for nothing, that she should have gone home instead of trying to find stress relief in the bed of another stranger.

“It’s not that I haven't wanted to,” you began, trying to find the confidence to continue in her shifting expression. “I’ve never really had the chance.”

Emily wasn’t giving you anything, and unfortunately, in an effort to drive away the awkward silence, you kept talking. “I find women attractive, and god knows I imagine it.” Blabbering was more appropriate. “Not in a weird way. I mean, is there not a weird way? What I mean is I seem to attract men, specifically ones with an aversion to loyalty, which is crazy as none of them could get me to,” You cut yourself off, far too embarrassed to even look the older woman across you in the eyes. “Please say something before I dig a hole deep enough to bury myself alive in.”

“No.” Emily drawled, suddenly glowing with a newfound sense of purpose. “I want you to finish. What could they never do?”

You looked up at her wide eyes, then carefully around the bar as if one of your aforementioned exes was hiding in plain sight.

You muttered, “Can’t you put two and two together?”

“Oh, I can. I’m just desperate to hear you say it.”

Did you want to answer? No. But there was something niggling away at you—the feeling that this woman would not let this go. She seemed like the determined type.

“Fine,” you huffed, looking down at your drink, using your straw to stir the clear beverage. It was painfully obvious you were avoiding Emily’s eyes, but you couldn’t care less. “None of them could make me cum.”

There was another bout of silence, stretching long enough for your cheeks to turn to fire. You took small sips of your drink, trying to occupy your mouth before you started blithering on again.

“I could change that.”

Your head snapped up.

“What?” You asked, winded, slightly dazed, and mildly alarmed that if you had swallowed a second later than you did, you’d probably have spewed your drink all over yourself and Emily.

“Never have I ever let a stranger give me my first orgasm.” And the way her eclipsed eyes twinkled under the overhead light left no doubt in your mind that Emily had found a goal for the night, one she would not easily let go of.

“Okay,” you whispered.

—

Leaving the bar together, standing side by side in the chilly evening breeze, Emily took out her phone. One sideward glance told her all she needed to know. Your hands were clasped together, fingers desperately grasping at the sides of your trousers. Your jaw slung to the side as your teeth gnawed the sides of your mouth. Your eyes followed every moving vehicle that sped past, though Emily suspected you didn’t see much of anything beyond the subject that seemed to plague your mind. That’s when the older woman passed her phone over to you.

You shot her a puzzled look, to which she simply rolled her eyes teasingly enough to colour your cheeks rouge. Apparently, it was obvious what she wanted from you, though you seemed to miss the memo completely and continued to stare blankly at the lit screen.

“You’ll be more comfortable somewhere familiar,” Emily wittingly sighed.

A meagre ‘oh’ was your only response, that and finally taking the phone from Emily’s outstretched hand and entering your address into the blinking search bar. When you handed it back, you didn’t miss the humoured smirk on her face or the little shake of her head as she slid her phone into her back pocket and looped an arm around your waist.

As it turned out, Emily was right. The moment you stepped into your apartment, your anxieties did not disappear but did lessen. The excitement of your predicament bubbled in your stomach, no longer masked by nausea, excitement that only grew with each kiss Emily placed on the back of your neck.

It felt a bit like being young again, staying out past curfew, playing tag with friends and toppling over one another in and among all the excitement. Hell, you almost did fall over on the way to the bedroom, laughing and wrangling with your trousers until Emily calmed you, dropping to her knees and pressing light kisses along the outskirts of your thighs. She helped you out of your pants, making no effort to get back up. Instead, she continued to map both your legs with her hands, kissing up and down and occasionally marking the spots she found you most responsive to.

“Lay back on the bed,” Emily instructed, finally standing up.

Despite spending the last year of your life in that bedroom, you couldn’t quite remember anything. Not where your wardrobe was, not where your bedside table was, and not where the end of your bed started. That’s why when you greedily tried to continue to kiss Emily, walking back, you completely misjudged the distance between the back of your knees and the edge of your mattress and went tumbling back.

It would have been slightly mortifying had the look on the older woman's face been anything less than thoroughly amused as she followed you onto the bed. You met her eyes with a shy smile, in contrast to your brave hands that led her to your breasts. Once there, Emily squeezed and kneaded them till you were sure you’d go mad if you didn’t feel her touch directly against your skin. The older woman seemed to have the same thought, with fingers at the bottom of your shirt pulling it up and up and up till she had to break away to remove it.

Then there you were, in your bed, in only your bra and underwear, a stranger above you admiring the contours and curves of your body. What you expected was that uneasy feeling deep in your stomach, which people usually get should they find themselves in a position in which they are singled out, like a deer caught in headlights. Instead, what you felt had a stark resemblance to waiting in line for a ride. There was, of course, some unease churning in your stomach, a sprinkle of fright hastening your heart, but unsurprisingly, excitement seemed to be the dominant emotion. It bubbled away in your chest, rumbled low in your tummy, left your head dizzy, and it was perfect.

You were smiling like an idiot by the time your senses came back to you. A moment short-lived and stolen away when Emily decided it was time to do away with her clothes, ridding herself of them piece by piece till she too was left in only her bra and underwear.

She was perfect, from head to toe, pure perfection that it became a challenge to find something to settle your eyes on. There were her shoulders, toned and balmy, begging to be touched; her breast, firm yet soft like silk, demanding to be kissed; there was her heat, hot against your thigh with only a piece of lace shielding her arousal from wetting your skin. It was a new sensation, but not an unwelcome one, and as if possessed by the need for more, you latched onto her ass, pushing her firmly against you and tasting her tongue as her mouth fell open in a silent gasp.

Emboldened, you raised your thigh, pressing it to the growing wet patch of Emily’s underwear. You relished the small moan that came from the older woman, how it echoed into your throat, but that was as far as you were allowed to press before control was seized from your grasp, quite literally. In a flurry, you found your wrists pinned beside your head, Emily sitting up above you, smiling like a Cheshire cat, though you were not oblivious to the rapid rise and fall of her recovering lungs.

She took a moment to gather herself, letting her eyes wander over your body. The brown pools of her irises had eclipsed black with lust, forcing a whole-bodied shudder to traipse down your spine. She looked hungry, needy, and determined.

The pressure eased over your wrists, and you were given a look that told you enough not to move but instead observe Emily freeing her breasts from the shackles of her bra. And that you did. You watched, enraptured, breathless and in awe, and said nothing when she leaned down to reach behind your back. With practised ease, she pulled your bra from your arms, tossing it to the floor and turning back to give attention to your air-kissed nipples. Her teeth played around one pebbled tit whilst her fingers taunted the other.

Foreplay was something you had experienced, but Emily was taking the trophy home for stretching it out to perfection. Already, you could feel the beginnings of your arousal slick between your thighs. There wasn’t a second where her touch left you as she wormed her way down your torso, her fingers tickling the sides of your belly, the underside of your breast, her mouth insistent on kissing every inch of your skin. Her warmth surrounded you like a blanket.

Eventually, when she reached low enough to come face to face with your panties, did she raise her eyes to your own and ask without so many words to remove the last barrier standing between her mouth and your waiting sex.

“Never have I ever let someone go down on me.”

She waited for your nod of approval, small as it was, to peel the soaked panties down your legs.

There was a moment’s pause when the evening air of your bedroom kissed your tender flesh, forcing the emergence of a little gasp to leave your throat. The inhalation and pleased sigh that came from between your legs beckoned your attention, but there was nothing to do but throw your head back when cold was replaced by warmth—the tickle of Emily’s breath and the tip of her tongue slipping between your sex.

Bated breaths were all you knew. Breaths that chiselled away at your lungs till they both felt simultaneously deflated and full, till the first appearance of sweat glistened over your brow, and the dawning of slight tremors shook your belly. And only when a single digit was eased into you did you finally breathe again, a breath so sharp it felt like your body was reawakened.

Vaguely, you registered the shuddering of your limbs; you weren’t so far gone to have lost all control of yourself, and the soft caresses of Emily’s tongue against your clit weren’t enough to have you writhing. They were, however, enough to pry small whimpers out of you.

Being vocal had never been your thing, though, in truth, it was hard to be vocal in earnest when you were gaining nothing out of the inconsistent jamming of a cock inside you or the never-ending cycle of a vibrator pressed against your cunt, buzzing and buzzing till you felt as though maybe you’d tip over the edge, only to come to a standstill and a slow torturous come down from nothing. In those situations, it was hard to get even a moan out, excluding the fake pornographic ones men go crazy for. Emily, however, was successful in changing this.

One finger suddenly became two, then three, and whimpers and little gasps were a thing of the past. For a moment, you thought the neighbour was banging against your wall, screaming out, only to be muffled by the dense wall dividing you. That was, of course, till you realised the banging was the blood rushing and thudding in your ears, and the screams were none other than your own. They were loud and boisterous, yet you couldn’t bring yourself to care because this was surely heaven. The perfectly paced pumps of fingers, the sucking, licking and occasional nibble against your clit, and most importantly, the encouraging squeeze of Emily’s hand against your chest, it was all heaven.

Every grain of pleasure you felt was monumental, simmering and exploding inside you over and over again. It felt like you couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything other than simply exist under the tense pressure that was reaching a colossal peak. Your hips moved purposefully, matching Emily’s rhythm until the push and pull between the both of you was symbiotic.

The closing act, the final push, was the press of fingertips curving against a spot within you so sweet you tasted honey on your lips, sugar on your tongue and nectar spilling from your sex.

When you came, you cried.

It wasn’t an outburst of pouring tears nor a cry of eternal joy. It was simply a few tears running down the sides of your face as you smiled and let out a sigh of contentedness, one, perhaps, you had been holding in for years. Years of bending to people’s wishes, even if it meant giving up your pleasure, years of shameful attempts at fucking yourself to exhaustion only to gain no reward, years of yearning for precisely what you were just given.

“You’re loud,” Emily whispered against your belly, kissing the small divot of your belly button.

You waited for a spell, colour draining from your face. Dawning on you was the realisation that whilst you may have thoroughly, thoroughly enjoyed yourself; your counterpart may not have.

You shifted uncomfortably, turning your head to mask your blush.

“I’m sorry,” you muttered, hoping the blotchy red patches on your cheek mirrored ones of exhaustion, not embarrassment.

Emily shook her head, making no rush to work her way back up your body. Each kiss felt like fire and ice.

When she finally did meet your eyes, she gave you a small smirk.

“I like it. It’s refreshing,” the brunette muttered, touching her lips to yours, painting your mouth with the tang of her tongue.

If the kiss wasn’t reassuring enough, the next thing Emily said ensured she would find pleasure only momentarily.

Slipping her underwear off to her ankle, she flicked the offending garment far across your room and sidled up your body till her sex was waiting directly over your mouth.

“Never have I ever…”

Tags: @ssa-sapphic @red1culous @sapphicprentiss @five-bi-five-mind @whosprentiss @asolitaryrose3 @imlike-so-gaydude @maybe-a-humanbean @bossofcriminalminds @jareguiromanoff @lovelyy-moonlight @storiesofsvu @mrs-prentiss @romanoffsho @waitaminutebaby @jarexuslover @lesbodietcoke @milfsincrime @noahrex @pnsteblnme @girloversstuff @ratsnestinmyhair @propertyofemilyprentiss @chloeelou02x @gayestswiftie @waitaminuteashh @chestnutninny @evelinearmani @luv-unknwn @lesbodietcoke | click here to be added to my taglist

#emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss x female reader #emily prentiss x you #emily prentiss smut #emily prentiss #emily prentiss fanfiction #criminal minds #emily prentiss x y/n #lgbt #Emily Prentiss x fem!reader #criminal minds fanfiction #fanfic #cm

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chvoswxtch · 5 months ago

Text

a little more time

pairing: frank castle x fem!reader

summary: you're starting to question just how much patience you have left for frank.

warnings: swearing, frank getting ganged up on by our latest dynamic duo, more angst than an early 2000s emo playlist

word count: 3k

a/n: & here is the second half of this week's double drop. enjoy the calm while it lasts, bc the storm is right around the corner. as always, feedback is welcomed/appreciated!

[previous chapter] | [next chapter] | [series masterlist]

Frank raised his right fist to knock three times against an apartment door labeled 6F. The person who the apartment belonged to was still a mystery to you. Neither you or Frank had spoken a single word to each other the entire short drive over. Instead, you’d sat stiffly in the passenger seat, arms crossed tightly over your chest, glaring out the window.

A minute later, the sound of a lock twisting broke the tense silence, and the front door was opened. A tall man stood in the doorway, his dark brown eyes wandering over Frank from head to toe and back up again. He was somewhat obstructed from your view since Frank was standing right in front of you, but you saw the way his full lips pursed in lighthearted disapproval before he lightly smacked them.

“Aw, shit.”

“Good to see you too, Curt.”

“Wish I could say the same. You know, most friends do normal shit. Go fishin’ down in Florida, maybe golf or somethin’, but you, you’re always draggin’ me into some bullshit. So what kinda trouble you bringin’ me now, Frank?”

“Told ya I needed you to look after somethin’ while I was gone for a bit.”

The man wore a light gray long sleeved henley, and the top of three buttons was undone. The waffle knit fabric stretched tightly over his biceps when he crossed his arms over his chest, lifting one of his dark brows in question with a look of suspicion on his face.

“Yeah, you didn’t say what though.”

Frank finally stepped aside, and the man fully came into view before you. When his dark brown eyes landed on your figure, an expression of surprise softened his skepticism. His onyx brows lifted in a show of disbelief as he glanced between you and Frank, giving him a pointed look.

“She’s with you?”

“Yeah. Curt, this is Y/N. Y/N, this is Curtis.”

Looking up at Curtis, you did your best to give him a polite smile along with a faint nod of your head.

“It’s nice to meet you, Curtis. Frank’s told me nothing about you.”

“Well that makes two of us.”

Indents of puzzlement creased along his forehead and without another word, Curtis reached his right hand out to wave his palm back and forth in front of your face, which took you by surprise and made your brows knit in curiosity while you blinked a few times. Frank looked at Curtis inquisitively.

“The hell you doin’?”

“Just checkin’ to see if she was blind.”

“Why?”

Turning his head to look at Frank again, Curtis looked him up and down once more with an expression of dubiety.

“Couldn’t think of another logical explanation of what the hell she was doin’ wit’cho ugly ass.”

Blowing a puff of air past his lips, Frank shook his head and turned to glance around to his left. Meanwhile, you had to cover your mouth to stifle the laugh that Curtis conjured with his quick response. Shaking his head, Curtis reached out to take your bag from you, stepping aside and gesturing for you to come inside, all the while side-eying Frank.

“Could’ve at least carried her bag for her, damn.”

Frank looked genuinely offended by the implied accusation that he hadn’t even attempted to be a gentleman, and you had to bite the inside of your cheek to stop from smiling at the way he scrunched up his face in defense.

“She wouldn’t let me.”

“Mhm.”

Curtis’ apartment was modest and simple, not overly decked out in furniture and decor, but definitely more homely than Frank’s. It felt awkward standing in the middle of a stranger’s living room that you had just met, knowing that you were supposed to be staying here for a few days. That thought had something from Frank and Curtis’ exchange suddenly sticking out in your mind.

Frank had told Curtis he needed him to keep an eye on something, not someone.

Turning around to face them, your narrowed gaze landed on Frank and creases of irritation swiftly knit between your brows.

“You didn’t tell him that I was coming, did you?”

Both men’s heads snapped in your direction when you spoke. Curtis glanced between the two of you with a comical look on his features as he picked up on the fact that Frank seemed to be in trouble with you. It was evident how hard he was trying to suppress a smirk. Frank on the other hand turned to face you fully, and he returned your expression of irritation with his own annoyed, broody scowl.

“Didn’t wanna ask over the phone-”

“And you didn’t think to ask in person before you packed me up and dropped me off?”

Curtis had his arms folded over his chest, and he was fighting to hide his amusement behind his right fist. His broad shoulders were subtly bouncing, and the sound of his snickering caused Frank to snap his head in his direction with a deep frown. Clearing his throat, Curtis turned to look at you with an easy going smile and gave a loose and dismissive wave of his right hand.

“Look it uh, it ain’t a big deal, alright?”

“It is when he’s the only one here who seems to know what the fuck is going on.”

The tension between you and Frank was thick, almost visibly lingering in the air, and Curtis quickly picked up on it. He’d placed your bag on the floor by his feet, but in an effort to diffuse the situation, Curtis reached down to pick it up in his left hand and loosely gestured with his right towards a hall around the corner from you.

“Here, why don’t we get you set up, alright? I uh…needa talk to Frank right quick.”

Curtis regarded you with a sympathetic glint in his eye, and it had guilt filling your bloodstream like lead. Your presence here was an imposition, whether he would say that out loud or not, which you figured by his kind nature he wouldn’t. It wasn’t fair of you to stand in the middle of his living room and argue with Frank, disrupting the peace of his home and causing him to feel uncomfortable. Silently nodding your head in agreement, you gave Frank one last forlorn glance before you turned to follow Curtis.

In the midst of your disappointment, both in Frank and yourself, you noticed that Curtis seemed to walk with a slight limp. It wasn’t overly apparent, and you’d only observed it because your eyes were on the ground in front of you following the heels of his shoes, but it stoked your curiosity. Frank hadn’t told you anything about him, you hadn’t even known he existed until today, but he was clearly someone important if Frank was leaving you in his trusted care. Your mind began to wonder where that integrity stemmed from. When he placed your bag down on the edge of his bed, you quickly shook your head and spoke up.

“I’m not kicking you out of your own room.”

Curtis turned his head to look at you and studied you silently for a moment. His deep brown eyes flickered between the door of his bedroom and your own gaze. Taking a step in your direction, he reached out with his right hand and gave your shoulder a comforting light squeeze.

“We’ll talk about that later. Why don’t you just sit down for a minute, take a deep breath. Unclench your jaw and relax your shoulders.”

You hadn’t even been consciously aware of the fact that you were doing all of those things until Curtis pointed them out. Sucking in a deep breath, you let it out in a slow exhale through your lips, trying to release the frustration and stress in your body along with it. When you sat down on the edge of his bed, your shoulders slumped in exhaustion, and you folded your hands in front of you with your forearms resting on your thighs, staring blankly ahead at the wall.

“So, this kind of thing is normal with him?”

Slipping his hands into the pocket of his jeans, Curtis looked over at you while leaning back against the wall and granted a nod of his head.

“I’ve known Frank a long time. Kinda gotten used to him bein’ a pain in my ass.”

“And you put up with it?”

There seemed to be an unspoken understanding between the two of you at that moment. The way that Curtis looked at you told you that he knew what you were really asking him with your veiled question.

Should I continue to put up with it?

Letting out a deep exhale of his own, Curtis pursed his full lips and a contemplative look covered his features. After a moment, he returned your interrogative stare with an expression of empathy and lightly shrugged his broad shoulders.

“I’ve never known Frank to do somethin’ without a purpose. Whether it’s right or wrong, I can’t say. But, the intentions come from a good place. Most of the time.”

The way he spoke that last part caught your attention, and you looked up at him in intrigue. He had trailed off a bit, his dark brown eyes wandering towards the empty space next to your side. You wished you could read the thoughts currently passing behind his eyes. Curiosity creased along your forehead as you tilted your head to the side in question.

“Most of the time?”

Curtis’ eyes focused back in your direction and he held your gaze silently for a few seconds. You could see on his face that he knew he had said maybe just a little bit too much. He turned his head to glance towards the open bedroom door once more before returning your look of query. His lips faintly tugged into a reassuring smile when he nodded his head in your direction.

“Like I said, there’s always a purpose.”

While Frank and Curtis were conversating in the living room, you took a moment to look around the quaint space of Curtis’ bedroom. Eventually your eyes fell on your bag that sat on the mattress to your right, and all of a sudden it seemed to dawn on you that Frank had packed it for you. Unable to deny your curiosity, your fingers reached out to tug back the zipper, peering inside to see what clothing and necessities he’d chosen.

On one side of the bag, a pile of clothes were folded neatly, and on the other was your toiletry case. Thumbing through the pile of clothes, you felt a tightness in your chest seeing that Frank had chosen outfits that you would’ve picked for yourself. They were ones you wore regularly, and he’d even packed your favorite pajamas. Knowing that you liked to be overly prepared and have options in case you changed your mind, he’d made sure you had enough choices for a week, and he even managed to fit two other pairs of shoes in the bottom.

Frank had grabbed all of the essentials to pack in your toiletry case, everything that he knew you used regularly, and even a few things he must have just thought you might need. He hadn’t just randomly grabbed a bunch of things to shove in a bag and go. Frank had thoughtfully chosen every single item in this bag with you in mind. While you sat there with your bag open, staring at the contents inside, an unexpected wave of emotion built up along your waterline, and you hadn’t even noticed until you felt a trail of wetness cascading down your cheek.

A light knock on the bedroom door made you quickly wipe away the evidence of your emotional turmoil with the sleeve of your shirt, and when you turned your head, you saw Frank standing there in the doorway. He looked considerably calmer than he had twenty minutes ago, and seeing the remnants of sorrow shining in your eyes, his rough features softened into raw remorse. Glancing at your open bag sitting beside you, Frank looked down for a moment and cleared his throat.

“I uh…grabbed what I thought you would.”

Hesitantly lifting his head to meet your gaze, you saw that his warm brown eyes were full of unspoken apologies. Giving a faint nod of your head, you dropped your gaze down to your lap and spoke quietly.

“Yeah, thank you.”

Both of you had so much you wanted to say, but neither of you knew where to start, or what the right words were. The silence echoed loudly and the walls felt like they were tauntingly closing in around you. A sinking stone of intuition in the pit of your stomach had you prophesying the very real possibility that this would end with you left in bereavement, and that the romantic daydreams you had hand crafted in the back of your mind had been false fortune telling.

Frank took a few cautious steps towards you, and you could see his boots come into view in your peripheral as you kept your eyes downcast towards the floor.

“Sweetheart.”

God, the way he uttered that one word made your chest ache. There were a million different emotions packed into those two simple syllables, and you could hear the tender longing in his deep voice softly calling to you. Frank knelt down in front of you, his large hand reaching out to cup your face. He slipped his fingers into your hair right beside your ear, gently grasping the back of your neck and he tucked his thumb under your chin to lift your head slowly.

“Hey-”

Frank dipped his head to try and catch your eye. Swallowing thickly, you slowly lifted your line of sight to look at him, and the expression on his face broke your heart. His warm brown eyes were desperately pleading with you, darting between your lips and crestfallen gaze.

“-c’mon I don’t…I don’t wanna leave it like this.”

The warmth of his breath could be felt against your lips, and his eyes were frantically searching every inch of face for something…anything that could temporarily relieve this anguish until he returned with a permanent fix.

“Look if I could…if there was another way…”

Frank let out a deep sigh that trembled past his lips, and it was clear he was struggling to find the right words.

“Just…please. I’m gonna make this right, okay? I swear to you. I just…I need you to give me a little more time, alright? Just a little more. Can you give me that?”

It was hard to see Frank like this, the somber sheen to his eyes and the misery weighing heavily on his shoulders. He was asking for another strand of patience, but you didn’t know how much you had left, and it scared you to even think about what would happen when you ran out. It was unclear in your mind whether the love you had for Frank that was embedded deeply in the chambers of your heart could be enough to salvage the pieces he was leaving you with.

“Okay.”

Frank could hear the lack of conviction in your defeated tone, and it killed him. Deep down he knew he was asking too much of you without giving you any concrete reassurance in return, but he couldn’t see another path. All he could do was hope that your faith in him wouldn’t run out like grains of sand slipping through the narrow bridge of an hourglass, and that the consolation of your forgiveness could still be earned.

His soft lips parted, and there was an intense emotion in his eyes when he stared deeply into yours. It looked like he wanted to say something so badly, but he cut himself off before he could. Leaning in, he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead and let it linger for a moment before pulling away and retracting his hand from your face.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can. You’ll be safe with Curt, alright?”

A pang of disappointment quickly spread through you. For a second you thought Frank might be the first one to speak those three words. If there was ever a time you needed to hear them, it was now. But then again, you didn’t know if you were ready to say them back.

Running your hand through the roots of your hair and pushing it out of your face, you sucked in your bottom lip and grazed it with your top teeth before letting it go and nodding.

“Yeah.”

Frank eyed you wearily for a moment before hesitantly rising to his full height. He didn’t want to leave things between the two of you so unfinished like this, but he didn’t have a choice. He didn’t know if he’d made things better or worse in attempting to leave on a smoother note. When he reached the doorframe, he paused and turned to look at you again, and it bothered him that you wouldn’t look at him.

“I’ll see ya soon, sweetheart.”

There was no verbal reply from you, just another nod of acknowledgement. Frank lingered there for a moment in the doorway, silently begging you with his eyes to look at him, but your gaze seemed to be permanently fixed on the floor. The image of you sitting there looking so dejected and disappointed burned into his memory, and he knew it would haunt him, even long after this was all over. He wouldn’t forget the moment he’d let you down so badly.

The only goodbye you got was the resonation of Frank’s heavy boots fading, getting fainter and fainter the further away from you he got. A few seconds later, the front door opened with a soft creak, and a murmur was exchanged before the sound of heavy wood sliding back into a worn frame was completed with the soft click of a lock.

The golden hour dripped through the thin plastic blinds, coating the entire room in a sundrenched glow, but the warmth couldn’t penetrate the endless and echoing loneliness that dug deep into your bones knowing that Frank was gone, again.

tags: @thyme-in-a-bubble @day-dreaming-goddess @messymissy @itwasthereaminuteago @strawberry1042 @queenofthenoobs @wanda2themax @xcastawayherosx @avengerstower-houseplant @stevenknightmarc @ponyosmom35 @babygal-babygal @wellwwhynot @oldermenaremyreligion @combustiblemeow @tired-night-owl @fairykiss32 @danzer8705 @calkissed @fxckahs-blog @lemon-world1 @polskiperson @imperihoe @v4leoftears @harperdoodle @spideyvibez @joalslibrary @cherry-berry-ollie @sorrowfulfragmentation @kdogreads @sumo-b98 @blackhawksfanatic @gloryekaterina @whistle1whistle @starbritestarlite @callmebrooklynbabes @hallway5 @scarletfvckingwitch @bifuriouslatina @soupyspence @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @wonwoosthetic @linguist-breakaribecca @nerdytreeflower @mrs-bellingham @smhnxdiii @s3riou2 @slavic-empress

#frank castle #frank castle x you #frank castle x y/n #frank castle x reader #frank castle x female reader #frank castle x fem!reader #frank castle x f!reader #frank castle fic #frank castle series #the bodyguard series #bodyguard!frank castle fic #bodyguard!frank castle series #bodyguard!frank castle x reader #the punisher #the punisher fic #the punisher series

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little-miss-dilf-lover · 6 months ago

Note

HI SWEETIE I HAVE A REQUEST!! i hope you dont mind!

so, bucky and f!reader, maybe married and they have a baby together. after that time of recovery reader is a bit shy of her own body cause it's been a while since they did it and she isnt back at her pre-pregnancy weight and bucky is absolutely like mind blown by her beauty? like, nearly drooling? and please can you add body worship on this?

i seriously hope it's okay for you, but if it's not please ignore this!

HII BBY!! I love love love it. thank you for requesting, hope you like it💌

DEFLECTION.

bucky barnes x fem!reader (married & parents) — comfort

word count. 1031

disclaimer. the hair colour and type has no significance to the writing. the gif just suits the theme of this fic. also please read the ask carefully

Only a few short months ago, you gave birth to a healthy baby girl - a daughter you shared with your husband, Bucky. Very quickly she became the sole focus of your attention, neither of you having much time to do anything like you used to.

Consequently, your sex life had taken a hit, and not because of the significant decrease in quality time, but instead something far more complex.

So far, motherhood has been a slight struggle to adjust to - the differences in your life between then and now are almost stark. You've been trying to adapt to all the changes that come with it, the main being your new body. You've been feeling shy and insecure with your new shape, often feeling like the weight will never drop off to what you looked like before.

It was hard to digest the change.

You were in the bathroom to freshen up, your eyes looking back at you in the mirror almost pitifully - your gaze travelling down, honing in on your stomach through your once baggy tee.

"They're here," Bucky calls from the other room, his voice putting a hold on the thoughts in your mind.

You step out of the bathroom, meeting your husband and daughter by the front door, a pink baby bag slung over his shoulder.

He notices the downcast direction of your eyes, seeing the way you tried to pull away from his attention. "Everything okay?" he asks you, rocking his little girl in his arms, bouncing her when she makes a noise.

You hum, walking closer to say goodbye to your baby - running a finger over her soft cheek.

He doesn't believe you, though he waits for it to be just the two of you before he can question it. He doesn't want to create a situation before your parents arrive to pick up your daughter. They offered to have her for a few hours to give you both some respite.

The second the door closes, and it's just the two of you again, he turns to look at you - his brows curled up inquisitively.

"Now, what's really going on?" he asks, referring to all those times you shut yourself off from him - primarily that one a few minutes ago.

You turn away, heading to the kitchen to get a drink. "Going on with what?" you deflect, trying to avoid the topic.

He follows you, standing behind you at the sink - his arms wrapping around your middle, chin resting over your shoulder.

But he's too close to where you don't want him, so you flinch at his touch, moving his hands away from your tummy and stretching the hem of your top - pulling on the fabric.

Bucky rips his hands from you, your avoidance of his touch making things whirl in his mind. "You don't like that anymore?" he asks, stepping aside to face the side of you.

"I do... just— just not right now," you reply, taking a quick sip of water before moving across the kitchen - heading towards the fridge. "Tired, feel gross," you shrug, trying to ease the tension you accidentally created.

"That's not it," he softly shakes his head, eyes focused on you even though every glance goes unreciprocated. "It's something else."

"Just need a nap and shower," you partially lie, pulling out two apples, handing him one.

He doesn't accept your attempt at deflection, instead turning it down. "No, it's something else," he continues, his eyes glued to the side of your face. "And you're afraid of saying it."

"I'm not," you softly protest, voice quiet.

"So it is something else," he mutters, the unknown confession of you making things easier for him, harder for you.

You're cornered. You sigh and nod faintly, closing the door of the fridge.

"What is it? Please talk to me," he reaches for your hand, fingers wrapping themselves around yours. "It's just the two of us, no distractions... what's been going on?"

"It's hard to get used to," you start, pausing to think of what to say next.

"What is? Being a mom?" he asks, noticing your focused gaze on the baby stuff on the counter.

You nod, pausing once more. "Not just that," you exhale, shrugging. "Everything's changed."

"With us?" he asks, hand tightening in yours.

"With me," you correct, looking down at your hand in his. "I've changed, and I'm not used to it... I don't like it."

"How have you changed?" he questions, trying to prompt more answers from you.

"My body has," you softly reply, trying not to squirm at your confession. "My boobs, tummy, my hair. The weight is taking longer to come off than I thought, and I feel— I feel like a..." you go quiet, not wanting to finish your sentence.

However, Bucky's not done coaxing words from you. His face softens when you finally meet his gaze, his features inviting and knowing. "Feel like a what?" he whispers.

"I don't know," you shrug again.

"'You are not your thoughts'," he says, reciting those words you've said to him countless times after his nightmares. Though now he's repurposing them to someone else who needs them, you. "I repeat that saying in my head all the time. Do you know who taught me that?" he asks, his gaze honing in on you - trying to stop you from looking away.

"Me," you whisper.

"That's right," he nods, bringing his spare hand to cup your cheek. "You need to use that same kindness to yourself. And right now," he starts, pressing a kiss into your lips. "You have never looked more beautiful to me."

You softly frown, the rest of your features relaxing.

"Your body gave us a daughter," he smiles. "You made her. You may or may not get your ‘old body back.’ But the one you have now is perfect too.”

"Thank you," your voice cracks, the sweet words of your lover soothing all the doubts in your mind. You envelop him in an embrace, arms hugging around him in the ways you've recently longed for. "I mean it."

His arms wrap around you just as tight, one hand running up your spine. "So do I.”

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes comfort #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x fem!reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky x reader #bucky fanfic

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myfictionaldreams · 1 year ago

Text

Day 1: Pegging - Mafia!Stucky

Summary: Steve had once instructed Bucky how to pleasure you, but what happens when you’re the one being given the instructions?

(this is basically part 2.5 to my fic 'Steve's Birthday Wish') Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, threesome f/m/m, polyamorous, pegging, strap-on, size kink, dom/sub, pet names, scratching, kissing, handjob, blowjob, anal fingering, anal, vaginal sex, creampie, praise kink

masterlist 📚

kinktober masterlist😈

AO3 Link

Steve Rogers, the leader of the Rogers Mafia, the most renowned organisation throughout Brooklyn, was a highly inquisitive gang member. He had to be in his line of work to continue deceiving the cops or work with people who were so dangerous he didn’t dare to even blink more than necessary whilst in their presence.

Due to the threatening line of work, Steve had to be prepared for anything, making quick decisions to protect his friends, family and business in the heat of the moment. Over time, this could strain him, verging on feeling burnt out; therefore, he needed others to cling to and help unwind, where you and Bucky would always thrive.

However, it wasn’t so much that Steve would lie down and expect the two of you to care or pleasure him; it was quite the opposite. His ideas usually consisted of kinky scenarios you would never even dream of thinking about. For example, the only reason Bucky was in the relationship now was that Steve had suggested that his second-in-command fuck his girlfriend whilst following his instructions with where to touch you. Never would the thought have crossed your mind to include Bucky in a sexual situation as not only was he your bodyguard but Steve’s best friend, but now, the three of you were inseparable, and you couldn’t imagine it any other way.

This all leads to a dark autumn night, the leaves covering the ground in a sea of burnt orange and brown shades, the sun having set hours ago over the tall Brooklyn buildings as the weather changes. These earlier nights, however, did nothing to stop Steve with his intense working schedule, and neither did it for Bucky, as they both had been in the office at your home for hours on end. Even as you wished them a good night did neither man stop to have a break; only when Bucky glanced at the clock and saw that it was nearing midnight did he mutter that he was going to join you in bed, kissing Steve’s temple tenderly and murmuring for him not to be long. He all but collapsed into bed, only just managing to strip down to his boxers before wrapping his body around yours, his metal arm sliding beneath your head as the other cocooned around your chest and hand resting over your heart, his face nuzzling into the back of your neck as the feeling of your heartbeat lulled him into a deep sleep.

Sometime later, you found yourself waking, detecting warmth behind you but not in front, which felt unnerving and like something was missing, which happened to be Steve. Carefully reaching across the bed, you grasped your phone and clicked the button to see the time was nearing 3 a.m. and still no sign of your blonde boyfriend.

“Is he still working?” Bucky’s voice croaked, startling you, having not realised he had woken from your slight movement.

“Yeah, I’m gonna go and find him”, you respond whilst untangling your limbs from his. Bucky sighed away, the sleep still settled heavily in his body, before following you, not bothering to pull on any clothes as you’d stolen his oversized shirt from where it lay on the floor. It took only seconds to walk across the hall and find Steve in the same position as hours ago. Your voice was soft as you explained, “Steve, you can’t work 24 hours a day; you must sleep at some point. The bed’s getting so cold without you.” Your bottom lip pouted dramatically as you stood on the other side of his desk, looking at him with wide, sad eyes and fingers teasingly stroking the edge of the oak surface.

The corner of Steve’s lips turned up as he took in your sleepy appearance and then over to his just as tired boyfriend over your shoulder. “Is Bucky not keeping you warm?” he asked, his voice deep and full of jest.

Bucky rushed up behind you, his arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you flush against him as you squealed in surprise, “I’m doing a perfect job, actually”. You melted into the embrace, tilting your head to the side so he could dramatically kiss your cheek with an audible smooch noise.

The brunette man dropped into the leather chair behind him, pulling you with him. You laughed at the sudden movement but quickly righted your position to feel more comfortable, turning slightly so that your legs were slung over his lap, hands resting against his toned shoulder and face resting on his chest.

Steve watched you curiously, especially the skin of your bare legs as he rested his chin on his closed fist, the material of his black button-up shirt straining to keep his muscles contained. You noticed the look and gave him a flirtatious smile whilst reaching up to scratch your nails through Bucky’s buzzcut hair. “What’s going on that’s keeping you up for so long and can’t wait for the morning?”

Steve sighed and leaned back in his bulky leather chair, causing it to squeak under the strain of his massive muscular body. For once, Steve looked to be contemplating something and being careful how to phrase his words before explaining, “I’ve actually been thinking about you two and distracting myself with work”.

You could feel Bucky adjusting his position as he frowned, “What about us, Stevie?” His tone was calm, but you became more aware, fingers pausing with their idle distractions as your attention fixed completely on Steve.

“I’ve bought you both a present”, Steve simply explained, offering no further description and leaving you both with more questions than answers.

“Are you going to tell us, or will we forever remain in suspense?” Bucky drawled tiredly, his hand beginning to stroke a swirling pattern against your ticklish thigh.

You yawned from the comforting touch, leaning further into Bucky again, eyes feeling increasingly heavier with each passing second as you struggled to stay awake.

Steve’s ocean-blue eyes flicked between his two lovers as he continued to be careful with his wording. “I’m not being upfront about the gift because I’m unsure if you’d be into it. Wait, let me rephrase that, Bucky, I know you’d be into it, and I sure as hell would be, but little miss Sleepy head over there is the one I’m not sure about”.

Your posture straightened as you pushed off Bucky’s chest to give Steve a toothy grin, “I’d be up for whatever you have bought us!” you say happily, being a people pleaser and automatically agreeing to it.

Steve smiled, knowing you’d already give this sort of response. “You don’t even know what it is yet, baby”, he laughs under his breath before reaching next to his chair and lifting the gift onto the desk.

A confused frown settled on your expression as you visually inspected the boxed gift. “You want to fuck me with a dildo? But you’ve both done that in the past anyway-” Steve’s shake of his head stopped your words.

The man then looked away from you towards Bucky and asked, “Do you remember the first time Bucky touched you? I want to do something similar, but I want you to touch Bucky while I tell you what to do. How does that sound?” His eyes flicked back to you, waiting for your answer.

“Good. It sounds good.” Your words came out with a rushed, warmed breath as your body heated from head to toe; all lingering exhaustion suddenly disappeared. You thought more on it; you were always the submissive one in the relationship, so at least Steve was still technically in charge of the fucking, but the thought of Bucky lying down with you pleasuring him in such an intimate and dominant way, him allowing you to fuck his body, would he even want that? Sitting in Bucky’s embrace, you turned your full attention to him. “How do you feel about it?”

The handsome smirk already displayed across his face was answer enough, but then he readjusted in his seat so that his half-hardening cock brushed against your lap. Bucky leaned his face closer to yours, confidently stating, “I’d want anything you’re willing to give me, mama”.

And this was how Steve’s latest idea had you standing in your bathroom at 3:30 am, completely naked and stepping into a harness as Steve crouched down to help you into it, tightening the straps until comfortable. You were surprised just how cosy it was as the straps wrapped around your hips and between your legs, resting over your cunt without irritation.

Looking down, you couldn’t help but giggle at seeing the dildo pointing out from between your legs. It was thick, probably the same thickness as Steve, which you had a secret suspicion was on purpose; it even had veins along the shafts and balls beneath. Almost on instinct, you gripped it, running your hand up and down just to feel what it was like, but then the searing gaze of Steve’s caught your eye as his hands rested on your thighs.

“Why does that turn me on so much?” Steve mumbled as he stood, dipping to kiss the pulse point on your neck. You lean into the touch, especially as his hands grasp your waist and pull you closer to his naked body, his cock already hard and flush against your abdomen. “I’m half tempted to just ask you to use it on me”, Steve suggested, leaning back to look down at your body to stare at the toy that rested against his thigh.

Before you could ponder over his words, he gently directed you back towards the bedroom where Bucky was naked and lying in the middle of the giant bed, his metal arm casually under his head as he waited for you both to return.

Bucky’s cock was already hard with anticipation and resting against his abdomen, red and visibly pulsing with desire. His eyes darted from your fake cock to Steve’s real one, a smile brightening his handsome face as he sat up on his elbows, announcing, “I can’t fucking wait for this”.

The warmth behind your back disappeared as Steve dragged a cushioned chair to the side of the bed, extending his arm towards Bucky to encourage you to approach your boyfriend. Bucky licked his lips, sitting up fully to help you climb onto the bed and straddle his lap, hands resting on his shoulders and the dildo awkwardly hitting Bucky’s chest as you hadn’t been careful where it was positioned.

You giggled, flustered, hiding your face behind your hair to avoid ruining the moment, but Bucky tilted your chin up so your eyes met his bright blue orbs. “Don’t hide that pretty face from me, Doll”.

The tension that you hadn’t realised was thick in your shoulders loosened as you relaxed further into his touch, fingers caressing his cheeks and gliding over his stubble as his cold and warm hand smoothed over your hips, pulling you closer over his thighs as your dildo brushed his cock. The two of you simultaneously turned towards Steve, waiting for instructions. Still, all he was doing was looking happily and lovingly at you both before he decided, “Kiss each other, make sure you tease him real good, Baby”.

You looked from one man to another and didn’t waste another second before pulling Bucky in for a heated kiss. Lips slid and massaged against each other as he tilted his head first, deepening and thrusting his tongue into your mouth to taste you, moaning as he did so. It was an automatic response to roll your hips and then brush your breasts against his chest, your nipples pebbling at the contact.

Then there were your fingers; you didn’t know where to touch him first because you wanted to touch him everywhere. But you remained on his face for a moment, over his cheek, his jaw, pulling him closer and holding him there before moving to other areas. Your nails scratched over his shoulders, careful not to irate the joining between his flesh and metal arm before running your fingers down each of his muscled arms, enjoying the contrast of the metal components and then the warmth from his muscles on the other arm.

You were loving every hitch of his breath against your mouth, the throb of his cock that brushed against your thigh, but then, Bucky was doing his own teasing. His large hands cupped your arse, massaging the cheeks and pulling you closer until there wasn’t a gap between your fronts. Both of you were grinding against each other, releasing sweet little moans to show how much you were adoring the other.

In fact, the two of you were getting so into it that the whole notion of the strap-on was a distant memory until Steve’s voice interrupted as he instructed, “Bucky, why don’t you touch her cock”.

You couldn’t feel anything at first because it was a sex toy, but then the harness straps tightened around your hips and between your legs, as Bucky's metal hand moved up and down your thick shaft. You broke the kiss, desperate to see the sight as you looked down between your bodies as he even brushed his thumb over the tip as if he was spreading the precum over the dildo. You were mesmerised, moving your hips in a way that the cock brushed into his circled fist.

Bucky was breathing heavily as he moved his lips to your neck, leaving open-mouthed kisses and then scraping his sharp, straight teeth against your pulse point, making your moans deepen in pitch, more wetness forming between your legs and soaking the harness strap.

It was a new form of erotism to see Bucky jerking off your fake cock, as if it was a real one; even though you had seen him doing the same movements to Steve, it still made you feel hot under the skin. Especially when you could see how much he was being turned on by it all, his precum coating your thigh from where you were grinding against his shaft.

Steve was leaning forward in the chair, his hands clasped together as he rested them on his knees, his eyes moving up and down your bodies as he tried to not touch his cock for as long as possible, playing his own erotic game. “Think he needs some stretching now; why don’t you lie Bucky back and work your magic. Remember, don’t listen to his whining; just listen to me, Baby Girl”, Steve continued to instruct.

You pushed lightly against Bucky’s shoulders, and he lay back against the soft sheets; you took a moment to take in the beauty of his swollen lips, glazed-over bright eyes and his chest broad and decorated with red lines from where you’d been scratching him.

Trying to maintain confidence, you smiled seductively down at him before beginning a taunting crawl backwards down his body, not keeping your eyes off of his as you stroked the tip of your cock along his lean muscles as you moved.

Settling between his heavy thighs, you didn’t start immediately stretching him, instead continuing to arouse him further by starting with your tongue licking up the entire length of his cock, feeling the soft yet hard member as it throbbed. Bucky gasped, looking down his body to you on your knees, sucking him off, starting slow, tasting the salty clear juices bubbling at the tip before letting the tip rest heavily against your tongue. You sucked him gently at first, the mushroom head of his cock sensitive from the gasps and groans coming from the man beneath you. Further, you took him into your mouth until he tickled the back of your throat.

Only you didn’t stop there as you pulled off the tip with an audible pop before delving south, sucking his balls into your mouth, a move that you knew drove him insane, and you were greeted by his hips thrusting into the air, his cock throbbing, begging to be touched again.

“You’re doing so well teasing him, Sweetheart”, Steve suddenly mumbled from beside you, still on the chair but finally giving in to his internal game as he was stroking his own cock slowly, his hand squeezing and tugging on the end and then down the length.

Seeing the glorious sight beside you of Steve masturbating and Bucky led out in front of you, the ache between your legs was now becoming nearly painful. You were absent-mindedly rutting your hips onto the mattress, letting the strap of the black harness push against your cunt, trying to relieve some of the need.

Reaching over Bucky’s hairy thighs, you fumbled around on the bed from where you’d caught sight of the bottle of lube hidden within the sheets. Finally, you found it and quickly squirted some on your index finger.

Bucky heard the cap of the lube opening and immediately opened his legs to give you a little more room and better access to your finger's intended goal. Releasing your mouth’s grip on his balls, you licked his inner thighs, teasing him further before stroking the lube around his asshole, ensuring it was thoroughly covered before applying some pressure.

Quickly you could breach through the ringed muscle, and simultaneously, you sucked his length back into your mouth. You worked your digit in and out for a minute before adding another finger, angling and curling them until you massaged his prostate.

“Fuck, that feels so good, Doll, don’t fucking stop; you’re doing so well”, Bucky praised, which pulled a smile to your lips as you were still sucking him off. You moan to add more stimulation before adding a third finger. Bucky almost whimpered at the intrusion, more precum leaking onto your tongue as he begged, “More, I want more”.

Steve’s chair creaked as he leaned forward again, and his voice drew your attention to him as he demanded, “Remember, don’t listen to him. Just listen to me”. So this is what you did, as you didn’t rush to do anything further to Bucky, making sure his hole relaxed around your fingers. Bucky sometimes liked to rush moments like this to get to the main event, not caring about the burn from the stretch or any discomfort as he only needed and wanted to be fucked so Steve usually had to be firm with him to make sure he was thoroughly prepped before continuing any further.

You were thankful for Steve’s directions, even though you did all the movements. It was nice that Steve could still tell you when and how to touch Bucky, and now you had a slight inclining as to how Bucky felt all that time ago when he’d first touched you with Steve’s instructions.

“Add another finger”, Steve encouraged, his hand returning to his own cock, never taking his eyes off of every little gasp that Bucky whimpered. Your fourth finger inserted into Bucky as your mouth continued to tease and tempt Bucky closer to the orgasm that you knew he was dangerously close to. You were shocked to have so many fingers into his hole, having never usually been the one to stretch him out, but then you remembered just how big Steve’s fingers were, and he usually prepped Bucky with more force than your dainty fingers were doing.

The mafia leader finally stands up from his perched position, but only so that he can sit next to Bucky’s head, his hard soothing over the man's throat and forcing him to look up at him. “How does she feel?”

“So fucking good”, Bucky groaned as he began to rock his hips to push your fingers deeper. “But”, he continued, “if she keeps sucking me off like that, I’m going to cum before we even get started”.

You pull off with a sheepish smile, looking between your two boyfriends, but you keep your fingers inside. Steve smirked at you briefly before dipping his face to kiss Bucky, holding his hand around his throat and forcing his tongue into the other's mouth. You watched, all hot breaths and swapping saliva, battling for dominance that both wanted and neither would be willing to succumb to. Only as you removed your fingers from Bucky did the man force his head away from Steve to look down at you.

“Please, fuck me already, hot mama”.

You looked towards Steve, waiting for him to tell you to do as Bucky wished verbally but instead, he moved off the bed and came up behind you, kneeling on the bed. Without a word, he helped you to your knees, pushing back Bucky’s legs even further so that you had better access to move forward. With further lube coating the dildo between your legs, Steve pointed the toy towards Bucky’s prepped and begging hole.

Gently, Steve nudged you forward, slowly and watching Bucky’s expressions over your shoulders as inch after inch of your cock stretched the man’s asshole. You were in awe at seeing Bucky’s reaction, the way his fists gripped the sheets beside him, his cock dribbled with his juices and was red and aching against his abdomen. His eyebrows were furrowed, and his mouth gaped open so that all his gasps were unfiltered.

The man behind you moved his hands to your hips, where they rested warm and heavy against your skin, pushing you further and further until your hips were flush against Bucky and the length of the blue dildo was penetrated within him.

It took a couple of thrusts to know how you were supposed to move, finding the right rhyme that felt good for you and Bucky, who was an absolute mess beneath you. You started slow and shallow, knowing that the dildo was moving deep and stretching areas your fingers couldn’t reach.

You were also distracted by Steve, who had begun to kiss along your bare shoulder, up the length of your sensitive neck and to the shell of your ear, where he nibbled on the lobe. “Do you like seeing Bucky like this beneath you? Do you see why we both love being dominant? There’s nothing better than seeing your lover sprawled beneath you, responding so well to your touches, until they're sobbing with need, their thoughts only of you and nothing else. I love it so much, making you feel good and seeing you make Bucky feel good”.

You’d begun thrusting harder, driven by Steve’s words and moaning yourself at his explanation. But then you’re halting as Steve starts to move your thighs apart so that he can slip his fingers from your hips, over your mouth and between your legs, pressing on the harness directly over your clit.

“Let me just move these out of the way. I bet you’re dripping, aren’t you, baby?” Steve mumbled against your neck as he moved the straps to the side to caress his fingers through your drenched folds. He chuckled as he confirmed his suspicions, “Always so wet for us; you’re just such a good girl. I think it’s about time to treat our good girl; what do you think, Buck?”

“If you don’t fuck her, I will”, Bucky decided as his hands released their grip on the sheets to begin fondling your tits, twisting and flicking on your nipples and making your hips snap forward harshly.

Steve shifted once again behind you, and before you could even moan his name, his cock slid between your legs and pushed into your soaked, aching pussy. Your hands reached out to grab onto anything and ended up grasping Bucky’s wrists, your eyes shutting and hips pausing as you thrived at the stretching from the Blonde’s cock.

Bucky readjusted his hands so that both of your fingers were linked together, holding you up as you took a moment to get used to the size of Steve as he kissed along your neck to help soothe you. “Feeling good, Sweetheart?” Steve asked, smugness evident in his tone.

“So-... So good”, you stuttered over your words as you tried to accommodate his length, groaning as he finally bottomed out and his tip pushed into your cervix.

“Now the real fun begins”, Steve grunted as he pulled out and pushed back in, causing your hips to snap forward and fuck into Bucky. The two of you gasped at the movement, and then you truly realised Steve’s plan. In this position, as Steve fucked into you, it caused you to thrust into Bucky so effectively; Steve was fucking both of you at the same time, which was probably why he had found a dildo that was similar in size to his own cock.

“Holy shit!” Bucky groaned, his back arching as his hands gripped tightly around yours as Steve began to move faster, the wet sounds echoing around the bedroom as the morning sun began to seep through the gap in the curtains.

Steve rested one hand against your hip, and the other reached around your body to grab your hand, pulling it out of Bucky’s grasp but only so that he could move it down to the man’s cock, wrapping your fingers around his shaft and then covering your hand in his. Matching his thrust, Steve used your hand to jerk off Bucky, and this only made your walls tighten around Steve at seeing the man beneath you crying out.

You knew Bucky was trying not to cum, Steve knew Bucky was trying not to cum, and Bucky was desperately in his own world of attempting to prolong the pleasure. He never wanted it to end. Even as his shaft hardened and his moans became more urgent, he still tried to will his body to not orgasm.

However, this all went out of the window as you had the sudden confidence to say, “I want you to cum for us, Bucky; I know you want to”.

It was almost instantaneous. Bucky’s eyes shut as his back arched further, his hands falling back to his side as long streaks of hot cum lathered up his chest as he came hard, his hips thrusting around your dildo and his cock into your hand.

Steve grunted over your shoulder, his movements quickening as he reached his peak, but he, like Bucky, tried to hold it back. Releasing the grip on Bucky’s spent cock, he reached between your thighs and stroked against your clit, pressing harshly and snapping his hips into yours.

It was like a burst of warmth and tingles spread from your abdomen, over your pussy and down your thighs as you came, slumping forward against Bucky’s chest as you lost any energy you had. Your pussy spasmed around Steve and he heaved a finally harsh thrust into you before he was pouring his seed into your hole, seeping out of the edges and pooling onto the sheets below.

The three of you tried to catch your breaths, not rushing to move as you each kissed random body parts lovingly, not quite having the energy to express how much you loved each other, but the touches conveyed the message thoroughly enough.

Steve was the first to move, kissing between your shoulder blades once before pulling out and then carefully beginning to help you ease out of Bucky, who gasped at the loss of the dildo. Next, Steve helped you stand on wobbly knees, only briefly so that he could clean between your legs with a warm washcloth and remove the harness from your body.

You then turned to Bucky and helped to clean all the cum and lube off of his body and then collapsed onto his chest, cuddling close as his arms wrapped around your shoulders as he kissed the top of your head. Steve did the same on Bucky’s other side, kissing your head and then Bucky wrapping his big arms around the man's abdomen and laying his hand over yours. No further words needed to be said; Steve finally found the calm that came from being with you and Bucky, the ideas and thoughts quietening in his mind as he found the peace he’d been craving all night.

#mafia!stucky #mafia au #steve rogers #bucky barnes #bucky #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers smut #steve rogers one shot #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #marvel #marvel smut #mine*#kinktober #stucky x reader #stucky

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hana-no-seiiki · 8 months ago

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Hi! Could I be ✨Anon? (Im not sure whats been taken already) I've been on a big Batfam kick these past few days and have a v indulgent request if it interests you.

Could I request something for a (gn) civilian reader who is friends w/ the Batfam, but recently got superpowers that are magical girl-esque? Neither of the parties knowing of the others Alter Egos. Here are some of my thought, but write the post however you'd like.

Reader was accidentally caught up in some commotion that involved stealing specialty cargo. One of them being an alien artifact, and reader uses it in desperation to save themselves. But now they have these sparkely, pretty, and showy powers that they never asked for. (And maybe a magical animal companion that insist they bring light and justice to Gotham)

Reader is reluctant to be a vigilante, but keeps finding themselves in situations to help people anyways.(Maybe its a side effect of being a magical girl) They end up fighting alongside the Batfam at some point, but they feel embarrassed to interact w/ them. Reader feels completely out of place with their colorful and over-the-top powers when next to the cool and brooding batfam.

Sorry if this idea is a bit out there, but ty for letting me be indulgent in your ask box 💕!!

NO CAUSE I FEEL THIS DYNAMIC SO MUCH.

I either have the friendliest vibe or the bitchiest vibe and no in between. Meaning that people either come to me for everything or think I’m a snob/will bite-

and sure non! i don’t really keep track of my anons nowadays so people can be whatever as long as it’s not listed in my pinned

BAT X MAGIC ✨

IN ANY CASE

I’m gonna mix Sailor Moon, Miraculous Ladybug and Onimai for my inspo with this ask if you don’t mind

Magical Girl/Boy/Person! Reader is really close friends with Tim and Damian. If there was one thing all three could agree on it’s that they loved superheroes in manga/comics.

And Reader? Boy did they adore the Batfam. There was just something about their dark, brooding aesthetic that they couldn’t get enough of.

So it was a tad bit ironic that they stumbled upon the most “girly”and “bright” power ever known to Gotham.

It didn’t help that your abilities had to be activated with cutely yelling things like “Sparkle Blast!” or “Smile Hurricane!”

I like to headcannon that you have a familiar or Kwami like creature that in exchange of keeping your identity magically hidden, absolutely bullies you by making the one above a requirement.

I headcannon that Damian has the PHATTEST crush on you. Like even moreso than the stalker, otaku Tim. Like he is just head over heels. You’re strong, you’re capable, you’re adorable?? But that mostly extends to just your magic persona rather than your real self. He’s super obvious about it to anyone but you too (similar to the og miraculous ladybug w/ felix instead of chat).

Tim is more interested on who tf you were. Like yes!!! Magical Person Hero!!! You were basically his childhood crushes incarnate!! But his inquisitive mind really needed to know who you were in order to calm himself down.

Jason is honestly a bit overwhelmed by your whole getup, but grows to love you the most in terms of how kind you are and how you help them even in the most dire of situations (not knowing that you were basically forced to)

He’s very much Tuxedo Mask type wherein he’d be very annoying to you when the disguises are off but an absolute Casanova with em on.

You and Dick are the most close when it comes to patrols and fighting. I feel like you, being the big fan you were, would make him look even more flashy and handsome during battle with sparkles and whatnot. I have a feeling he’d be the first to ask you out or fully romance you, as well as be the first to befriend you/contact you as a vigilante.

Bruce is definitely perplexed by how you always evade him in terms of your secret identity. It frustrates him to no end that whenever he gets close to finding out something either gets in his way or his mind just goes blank.

Once you explain how your magical persona works tho he’s pretty quick on the bandwagon, especially since he sees that his boys love you.

Also cause you look way too adorable to really be heinous.

…Right?

Once you break one of your familiar’s rules though, they do share your identity with the bats and well…

All hell breaks loose.

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ace-turned-confused · 2 months ago

Text

proud to be yours

marcus acacius masterlist | main masterlist

pairing: marcus acacius x f!reader summary: it's the first time you've seen acacius since he took your virginity, and he has plans for a different kind of training word count: 2,7k warnings: 18+ only, reader is able-bodied / shorter than acacius / very inexperienced, unspecified age gap, pet names, smut, vague references to past p in v & loss of virginity, cock & ball worship hooray! (blowjob & ball sucking), brief fingering, comeplay & come eating, spitting, praise kink, size kink, smidgen of corruption & innocence kink, dirty talk, possessive acacius extra info: subligaculum = underwear a/n: written for @joelmillerisapunk's PPCU body worship challenge! i asked for Big Gladiator Man + C, which very fittingly stands for cock :) this has the same pairing, teeny references to & carries on from mould me for ruin, but could be read on its own :) hugs & cookies to @morallyinept for reading this over <3 <3 <3

You haven’t seen Acacius since your last training session when he took you on the ground and claimed you for himself. He informed you he was busy, saying he’d find you as soon as possible. You weren’t sure what to expect when he sought you out today and led you down an unfamiliar path, still away from prying eyes but also your usual hideaway.

You wonder if he regrets what the two of you did and doesn’t want to train you anymore, if he’s changed his mind and is simply taking you somewhere he can let you down without an audience.

The sun is already well below the mountains, the sky like a painting of pink and purple with cirrus clouds like brushstrokes. Kicking the gravel as you walk, Acacius’ bulky frame towers alongside you. You watch his hand glide through the air, remembering how his touch had blazed across your skin.

“Where are we going?”

“You will see.”

“Why are we not heading for the forest?”

“Today’s lesson will be far more pleasant at my home.”

“Your home? Are you… are you sure?”

“Relax, my girl.” He stops and turns to you, steadying you by your arms. “You know I would not endanger you — even if I did, you have proven you are more than capable.”

“What are we doing?” You call out to him as he walks ahead.

“You have quite the… inquisitive mind, rascal. I imagine it gets you into trouble, hm?”

“I suppose I do ask too many questions… you're the only one who really listens to them.”

He turns and waits for you to catch up, head cocked to one side as you come to stand in front of him. You feel a strange sense of comfort around him, comfort that nobody else has time or energy to give you. Why would they, when you spend all day longing to chase your dreams?

“It is not too much, you are not too much. I enjoy listening to you. You are far more intelligent and witty than any soldier I’ve trained… Far more beautiful, too.”

He resumes walking with a soft smile and you follow in silence, trusting that you’ll be fine to do whatever he has planned, and fighting the heat that flows under your skin at his compliments.

Stepping through wrought iron gates, a cobbled pathway wound up to an impressive stone and brick home, the surrounding gardens neat and manicured. High arches tapering down towards mosaic-tiled floors as you head inside, it’s a spectacle compared to the cramped buildings of the town centre.

He led you through the open space towards the back of his property, dim lamps lining the walls as you reached his bedchamber. You stood in the doorway, unsure if you should have followed him inside. He assured you nobody would know your whereabouts, and if they did, he’d make sure they never spoke it, a menacing grip on his sword as he unsheathed it to place down.

Now you stand, watching him remove his armour, place his chestplate on its stand and hang his skirt. His chest is still just as broad, arms and thighs still just as thick even only in his tunic. You’ve never seen him like this, neither noble nor clad in armour — just Acacius, just Marcus. The lamplight flickers across his face, catching on the silver in his hair and the scruff of his beard.

“Still so eager to learn?” He chuckles as he drags his hand down your neck and across your collarbones, your eyelids fluttering closed as your skin rises in goosebumps.

“How will we train if you have stripped yourself of your armour? I… I do not wish to hurt you.”

“We are doing a different kind of training tonight, my girl. You did so well for your first time, I knew you were born to take me.” He steps into your space, one hand rising to cradle your cheek and you lean into his touch, still desperate to please him.

“Have you dreamt of me again? Touched yourself and seen stars?”

“Yes, General,” you whisper to him.

“It felt good to become mine, yes?”

You whimper as you think back to that night — your body ached as he pushed you down into the hard earth and split you open, pinned you beneath him so he could just take from you. He did take from you, something you can never get back but something you don’t want back, not now that he’s had you for himself.

“I assume you have not sought out another man.” You shake your head in response, gaze tracing over his features as he stares you down with a dark glint in his eyes. “No other man will have you how I did… I will make sure of it.”

“As you said, my body craves yours.”

“My good girl.” Acacius smiles down at you as he curls his hand around your waist, fingers digging into your side. “And my body craves yours, remember?” He takes your hand and guides it down atop his tunic, pressing himself into you.

“Do you feel just how much I still crave you?” You nod as you stare at your hand, feeling him for the first time through the rough fabric. “There are more ways you can be mine, and many more ways I can ruin you. On your knees, my girl.”

You sink down to the floor, the hard tiles digging into your kneecaps as you shift around and try to find a comfortable position. You look up at Acacius from the floor, about to voice your discomfort when he stops you before you can speak.

“Tonight I want to show you how to make a man — me — feel good.”

“Was it not… did you not feel good when, uh… when you…” You drop your eyes, feeling heated as you stumble over your words. Your brows knit in concern — did you do something wrong the other night?

“It was well beyond good, my rascal — a sweet girl like you, so pure.” He crouches down to level with you and holds the back of your neck. “Any man would feel good with you, but no other man ever will now that you are surely ruined.”

Looking away, you notice a white tunic laid out, a gold leaf pattern running along the shoulders and down the side seams. You wonder when he wears it, or who he wears it for, distracting yourself from the worries swirling in your head.

It’s as if he could hear your concerns before you voiced them — he grabs you by the chin to force your attention back to him. “No other man will have you, and I will not have any other woman. Now that I have you, why would I need someone else?”

He drops his hand and straightens up — you feel wet between your thighs as he towers over you. You clutch your hands together, unsure what you’re meant to do for him.

Your eyes flit between his chest and arms as he pulls his tunic off, smirking at you as you realise your mouth had fallen open. He wastes no time pulling his subligaculum off and your eyes go wide seeing him up close for the first time.

You don’t care what he thinks anymore as you stare at his cock instead — he takes himself in hand, stroking lazily up and down and reaches with his free hand to cup the heft of his balls. His skin looks soft, and the small pearls that grow from the tip of his length turn him shiny the more he fists himself. You lean back on your ankles as he lets go and holds his hand out.

Placing your hand cautiously into his waiting palm, he lifts it and wraps it around his cock. Your fingers just don’t meet — it’s not just his arms and thighs that are thick. You try pressing your legs together, that familiar nightly ache having returned.

“Are you wet?” You nod mindlessly as he starts moving your hand in his, mesmerised by the feel of him and watching the skin pull back and forth over the head. “Too bad tonight is not about you. Maybe if you are a good girl I can give you what you want so desperately.”

He uncurls your fingers and holds your hand open to rest his cock against your palm, hunching over as a trail of spit falls from his mouth and onto his length. He closes your hand around him again, a small gasp slipping from your lips as the cool, wet sensation covers your palm and fingers. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand as he instructs you to stroke him again, before dropping both arms to his sides.

You look at him curiously as his skin glides against your hand; you tighten your fist experimentally, feeling just how hard and heavy he is. He grunts above you and you let go immediately, looking up at him in question, worried you’ve already done something wrong.

“Do not stop, my girl — all those noises you made when you felt good? Well, I make noises, too.” He winks at you and curls your hand around him again for you to continue. “You have always been such a curious girl — I want you to explore me.”

“But what… What should I do? And, what if you do not like it?”

“I would like anything you can do, my girl. You were fearless when it came to your combat training, I want that same fearless girl with me now.” You glance away as you consider what to do, your nerves clearly evident on your face as he starts making suggestions, “Stick your tongue out for me.”

You do, and he guides his cock towards your face, the tip prodding into your cheek before he drags it towards your waiting tongue.

“I want you to explore, with your hands, your mouth… I’m sure you will find you quite like this, too. Go on, taste me.”

You lean forward and lick the tip of his cock — he twitches as you do, and you taste the precome that’s been pearling since he took his clothing off. Looking at him again, he nods and it encourages you — you hold his cock up against his body, licking the entire underside of his length and he moans, his head lolling back as you keep eye contact.

“My sweet girl, I knew you would be good at this.”

You warm at his words, feeling your skin and ears go hot at his praise — you’ve only just started, and you still have no idea what you actually should do, but hearing how much Acacius is enjoying this only makes you want to do better for him.

You take his advice and flick your tongue across his tip again, breaking to stroke him and pepper small kisses up and down his length, peering up at him with a wide grin each time. Once you work up the courage, you take the tip of his cock into your mouth and try swirling your tongue around him — even barely inside you and it feels a stretch. His hips jerk forward when you push your tongue along his slit, sliding himself further into you.

It takes some time, but you work him progressively into your mouth, your boosted ego taking over as you push too far — coughing as you pull yourself off him, strings of saliva connect your bodies, one hand still around what you couldn’t fit in your mouth.

“Slowly, my girl. You do not have to win the war all in one night.”

“Can I…” You trail off, embarrassed by your inexperience and the vulgar thoughts clouding your mind.

“You can do whatever you want, my rascal. There is no need to ask — explore, remember?”

You nod, reassured by his guidance and stroke him languidly again. He’s even harder than when you started, throbbing in your hand with an almost permanent bead of precome leaking from him.

Your eyes drop to his balls — you watched how he held them, felt them earlier. Does that mean he likes that too?

Avoiding his eyes this time in case you make a mistake, you lift a hand to feel the skin — it’s soft, with wiry hairs littered across him. You roll your fingers over him and he groans at the contact, his hand squeezing the back of your neck.

Smiling sweetly as you look up at his face again, he looks gone, and your sweet smile turns cocky — you’ve rendered him practically speechless. You take in his unburdened features as you run through everything in your mind — he likes your mouth on his cock, he likes your hands on his balls…

You don’t overthink it as you duck forwards, eyes fluttering closed as you nuzzle into the crease of his thigh and take one of his balls into your mouth and suck him gently, one hand tightening around his cock, the other grounding yourself on his leg. He pulls you impossibly close to him and you giggle, the sound muffled but coursing through his whole body.

You keep stroking him as you switch sides, shifting your hand from his leg to scrape your nails through the coarse hair surrounding the base of his cock. He groans, a string of saliva connecting your bodies again and trailing down your chin when you release him.

“Can I, um… can we do this again? Not necessarily tonight, of course! But…” You ask timidly, your voice becoming hoarse.

“I am glad to know you take great pleasure in this.”

“Are you going to cover me like you did last time?”

“Keep going and you will soon find out.” He sounds breathless as he looks down at you, “I am close — you have done so well for your first time, you have been such a good girl.”

You clench your legs together as he showers you with praises again, hoping that he’ll let you touch yourself — or touch you himself — when he’s done.

“Take me again, my rascal.”

It doesn’t take long before his body starts stiffening, cords of muscle in his thigh tensing against your hand and his grunts become louder. You sink your nails into his leg as he thrusts forwards and knocks into the back of your throat, his cock pulsing as he spills into you. The sensation overwhelms you as you feel it settle under your tongue and thicken around your gums; Acacius is doubled over above you, his large and weathered hands borderline crushing your skull from how he pulls you into him and keeps himself upright.

Unsure what to do next, you wait. The tiles are cool and hard against your knees — much like the earth he’d pushed you into previously — and his cock is slowly softening, still kept in the wet warmth of your mouth.

Finally loosening his grip to stand, everything falls silent as you look up at him. He pulls himself out and grabs your chin, digging his fingers into your cheeks to keep your mouth open and angle your head back. He leans over you, all firm chest and broad shoulders, with that same wild expression you recognise from the night he first had you.

He spits into your mouth and you whimper below him. Sliding two fingers between your teeth, he presses them down onto your tongue and dips them into the mixture of his spit and salty come, pushing it around your mouth. You grab onto his wrist to keep him longer as you lick between his fingers and swallow.

“My perfect girl.”

Pulling his fingers from you, he crouches to level with you and wipes your cheeks with his clean hand — you’re not sure when the tears had streaked your face, overwhelmed by him filling your mouth and the now unbearable throbbing between your legs. He lifts your tunic and bunches it at your waist, huffing a laugh when he sees you’re bare underneath it.

Still caressing your cheek, he dips his sticky fingers between your folds, dragging them through your slick. You tilt your hips to grind yourself against his fingers; he pushes them into you when they catch on your entrance and he laughs, watching you work yourself higher and higher, your small whines growing louder.

“My poor girl, does it not feel good by yourself anymore, hm? Now that I have shaped you for myself… You are always so good for me, let me help you.”

tagging some pookies that left kind words on my wip wednesday snippets of this, lmk if you wanna be taken off <3 @burntheedges @milla-frenchy @sixhours @luxurychristmaspudding

comments & reblogs are hugely appreciated, forehead kisses to all 💜

dividers by @cafekitsune

#marcus acacias x reader #marcus acacius x you #marcus acacius fanfiction #marcus acacius smut #gladiator fanfiction #PPCUBodyWorshipChallenge

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