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montcumbry-gaytor · 8 days ago

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Will you tag me when a Cicero fic comes out please <3

Hysteria

cicero x male reader smut

CONTENT WARNING : GRAPHIC SEXUAL CONTENT, VIEW AT YOUR OWN RISK.

— sooo.. yeah, I had an idea for this, I'm a Cicero lover so I'll take any opportunity to write for him.

tw : main characters are literally assassins. canon appropriate language. whiny insane man. ginger man .. spooky.

The night was young for the Dark Brotherhood, there were killings to be had, sacrifices to be made in the name of the mother.

However, the Listener -you- had taken a night to yourself, dispatching a handful of assassins to do the mother's bidding before retiring to your personal quarters.

The room had a biting chill, the stone cold, but somehow warm in comparison to the outside, which had been pelted in snow for days. The hearth burned, the embers crackling, a white noise that became comforting.

Having already stripped of your steel chest-plate and boots, and the leather armor beneath it, you settled for a dark colored tunic and some trousers, though it felt odd to be dressed so casually in times like these.

You scarcely felt deserving of this time, resting felt like a limited resource. So much to do and so little time to do it.

"You sent for me, dear Listener?" Cicero asked, hanging in the entryway.

A madman, a jester, a fiend. Many names men and women alike had given him, accurate, but they overlooked his potential.

"Yes," You replied, your bones felt heavy, having been carrying out your own duties, the duties of a dragonborn, a tiring lifestyle you'd picked up just when you were seconds away from being beheaded. "Keep me company, will you?"

You had asked, and Cicero hardly hid the joy the request brought him. Spending time with his beloved Listener? who in their right -or terribly wrong- mind would deny such an ask?

"But of course!" Cicero said with a grin, approaching with a gleeful grace before taking his floppy jester hat off and holding it over his heart, bowing to his Listener. "I'm at your service, My dear."

You gave a weary smile, and placed your hand on the back of Cicero's neck to pull him close, the other grasping Cicero's hat, tossing it somewhere to be recovered later.

"Good." You murmured, looking deep into the assassin's amber eyes, like pools of whiskey that stared back in return.

There was a time when you considered killing him for trying to kill Astrid, but a clarity had washed over you as each piece of the Dark Brotherhood's puzzle put itself into place, and in the end, you spared Cicero.

And as a result of keeping Cicero to fight at your side, a little relationship had spawned between the two of you.

You pulled Cicero close, lips meeting, something that was soft at first, something that short-circuited Cicero's brain each time, the tenderness of his Listener set him ablaze.

Cicero's hands tightened on your clothes, chasing the kiss hungrily, he loved the affection, the attention.

So you indulged him, fingers curling into the ginger wisps of hair, making Cicero shudder, pushing his tongue past your teeth, trying to taste you, like a mad, hungry dog.

It was a stumble to the bed, it's wooden beams creaking under your shared weight, but Cicero slumped back.

There were practically hearts in his eyes the way he looked at his lover, enraptured by his sweet.

"What a beauty you are, my dear Listener, what a privilege it is to lay with you.." Cicero praised, a mad grin on his lips, but you had merely smiled at the flattery.

Your knees dug into the mattress as you pulled your tunic over your head, tossing it off somewhere before creeping forward, pressing your lips to Cicero's yet again.

Cicero's greedy hands touched anywhere he could, adoring each scar from his Listener's battles, his triumphs and his killings, every single mark delicious, no more precious than a painter's brushstroke.

You'd settled for petty rutting for the moment, lips dancing as your tongues mingled, Cicero's knee between the your legs, his hands gripping your hips and tugging, hungry for every noise that escaped the your lips.

"Careful.." You said softly, thumb caressing Cicero's lower lip.

Cicero hardly listened though, and rolled the two of you over, a wicked smile on his lips. "I know little about being careful, sweetling." Cicero said, craning down to press a trail of kisses over your neck, down your chest.

His lips caressed every scar in sight, he adored them all, his Listener's skin was a precious thing.

"So pretty..." Cicero sang in a whisper, his breath a warm fan over your skin, which spawned gooseflesh as a shiver ran its way down your spine.

He would do anything to please you, to prove his worth by doing everything he could to satisfy you after such a long day. So Cicero sought out to do just that. His hands pulled the dark trousers down in a slow creep, letting them meet the floor with the rest of the clothes.

What good were clothes anyway? Cicero thought, they hid his beautiful Listener's body away from him, clothing was his enemy.

Your hand crept through Cicero's hair as the jester peppered kisses over your inner thighs, murmuring sweet nothings in deluded rhymes.

His fingers slipped just underneath the hem of your unders, teasing the skin there.

"Oh.. how soft you are, sweetling, like the silk of the night mother's gown." Cicero muttered.

A little odd compliment, but it was sweet in retrospect, it was coming from a deranged assassin dressed like court jester after all.

You had intended to make a comment, but was cut off as the cold air met your groin, Cicero's fingers pulling your unders down and away, leaving his beautiful Listener nude, like a blank canvas waiting to be marked and savored.

His tender hand wrapped gingerly around your length like the hilt of his dagger, and stroked in a terribly slow motion.

"Well then... shit." You had gasped, your breath leaving your lungs in brisk pants, the mere touch sending a pang of heat south, taking your blood to rush down with it.

"My, my, and i thought i was the eager one." Cicero says, his breath running over your thighs, pressing kisses to the innermost skin, nipping when he deemed it fit, all while stroking the Listener's cock.

It felt like a task he was unworthy to take on, to satisfy his Listener was a thought that made Cicero's heart swell, oh, how he loved him.

The sensations were enough to pull a bittersweet moan from your lips, the gentle squeeze of his palm as he neared your tip, the pad of his thumb rubbing the slit, gods above, it felt like it was too much.

But of course, to Cicero, he wasn't doing enough. You needed more, he would provide, he would do anything for you.

His tongue ran over his middle finger, slicking it with spit, making sure to be very thorough. He would not tolerate his Listener in pain if they did not request it.

Then, he pressed the tip of his middle finger to your hole, rubbing gently around the rim, before gently pushing in, grinning at the noise it drew.

"Cicero-" You rasped, but he paid little mind to it, as you did his little rambles and tunes, it meant little.

His slender finger pushed against your walls, opening you up in a beckoning motion. "You sound so cute, Listener." Cicero whispered.

Only a psychopath would call the prophesied Dragonborn cute.

Nonetheless, he pushed a second finger into you, he would make sure you were fit to take him, he did dream of making you bleed, but hurting you without your expressed permission would make him pale.

His mouth fluttered over your thighs, his dominant hand stroking you firmly, and his fingers spread you open. The sensory all combined into that of a raging fire in your loins.

"Cicero.. fuck- slow... slow down." You rasped, getting far to close to your orgasm than you wanted to be, it'd been far too long since you'd done this.

"Your wish is my command..." Cicero said, and he made you regret your words.

He pumped slowly, causing your hips to twitch and desperately try to fuck into his fist, and his fingers spread out in a scissoring motion inside of you, it felt hot, too fucking hot.

Cicero licked warm trails of spit up and down your thighs, bruising them with viscous bites, and whispered praises against your flesh. He loved watching you come undone.

"By Talos..." You cursed, your fist balling into the sheets below you, and you cried out as Cicero dared to push a third finger into you, pushing you open, savoring your voice.

He loved the way you writhed, his sweet Listener becoming undone like a ball of yarn.

Your body burned, you were terribly close, practically shaking as your hips jolted into Cicero's fist.

And then he pulled away, his fingers slipping out, his palm leaving your dick aching, and his lips ghosting your skin.

"Not yet, my dear, not yet." Cicero giggled.

You had laid there, catching your breath, trying to control the way your body raged, and when you looked at Cicero again, he was stripping away his shirt. "Can't have this getting messy.." He muttered under his breath.

He leaned to the side, fetching one of the bottles on the wooden side tables next to your bed, a small vile with a pinkish, syrupy liquid inside.

"I'll have to fetch more of this for you..." He murmured, thinking aloud.

Then, he shoved down his trousers, his erection leaking, the tip red, so ready to take you, to sate your every desire until you could not speak.

He haphazardly uncorked the bottle with his teeth, and spit out the cork. You could still hear it clatter to the ground, but had little care. Your eyes were occupied watching Cicero as he poured the fluid over his length, his free hand stroking it over his flesh.

"Oh, Listener, I cannot wait to make you weep." Cicero giggled, rubbing his tip over your hole, looking deep into your eyes the entire time.

"You can't?" You asked, and Cicero raised a brow, curious. "What if i said.. you had to?"

Cicero frowned oh so quickly. He would never dream of disobeying you, you said jump and he would ask how high. He would never do something you didn't want.

"Please don't sweet Listener... Cicero just wants to have you.." He whined, it was cute, he was desperate.

"I didn't hear that, Cicero, you'll have to speak up." You teased, adoring how Cicero pouted, and crooned over to kiss down your arm and to your palm.

"Pretty, pretty please, Listener. Let Cicero fill you."

Cicero pleaded, his cock twitching between your legs, you knew he couldn't wait, you couldn't either. So you gave him a nod of approval, and Cicero shuddered with excitement.

His left hand pressed your thigh, pushing your leg open, and his right occupied his cock, aiding it as he pushed into you.

Cicero was slow, and through clenched teeth he grunted and huffed. He aches to push in all at once, to revel in your tightness, but he controls himself for your sake. All for you.

It's when your hips finally meet as his length fills your hot walls that he lets out the breath hes been holding.

"Fucks sake.." You whisper. Your eyes are closed as your body adjusts, and when you open them, Cicero is watching desperately, waiting for your command.

You beckon him closer with your hand that isn't balled in the sheets, and he leans forward, and your hand finds his shoulder, pulling him into a kiss where his tongue finds yours again.

That's the permission he needs, and his hips roll into you, slow at first, drawing himself out before pushing all the way back in, pushing deeper each time, but his eyes don't leave you at all.

He's enamored by the mere sight of you beneath him, slicked with a cold sweat and filled by his cock.

He's fucking the night mother's chosen, how beautiful.

His hand that lingered on your thigh unsteadily plants into the mattress next to your head, he towers over you, ginger hair sticking to his forehead as his tongue darts out to wet his lips, and his hips aim upward to fuck against the bundle of nerves deep inside you.

He's terribly accurate, precise, he knows where it's at from the countless times he's done before, and yet he treats it like a blessing every time.

Cicero practically whimpers at the feel of you, every inhale has a giggle, hes mad and intoxicated because of you.

"There you go... fuck-" You rasp, your mouth parted as noises escape your lips without thinking. "Good boy."

Oh, he loves that. His cock jolts inside of you, his teeth catch his lower lip. He thrusts into you, begging you to praise him more. He craves your approval.

Your hands find his lean, freckled shoulders, your nails dig in, and he adores it. The marks you leave are things he cherishes, and things he mourns when they fade.

"So good for me, Cicero.. ah-" You grunt, if you were close earlier, you were teetering on the edge now.

Cicero can feel it in you, you squeeze down on him and he moans at the very feeling, his hips snap into you, his heart pounds like a war drum. He's merely a loose cannon you've lit.

"Don't you dare stop.." You command, and Cicero shakes his head. He'd never dream of it, no, he'd do this forever if it were possible.

Your stomach burns, and something deep feels so tight that it pulls every muscle in your body taut. All you can think is how badly you want to let go.

And despite his exhaustion, Cicero's pace doesn't falter.

All breath leaves your lungs, your hips jolt on their own and your brain numbs for a moment, each muscle spasms as your cock spills out white over your belly. And Cicero chases his release as quickly as possible.

He's a whiny mess, and his hips shudder, your walls flooded in thick ropes of his seed, and he breaths out wistfully as his high comes down.

Cicero can hardly help with how infatuated he feels looking at you, your sweaty body, the cum dripping down your sides and out of your hole.

"So.. So, pretty." He whispers, and cuddles into you like a contented pup. And your fried mind decides aftercare can be handled after you've taken a good nap.

— if it wasn't obvious.. I think Cicero has a deep servitude kink.

#male reader #smut #male reader smut #cicero skyrim #cicero #cicero x male reader #cicero x male reader smut #why dont more people write about cicero #hope i fed yall #also yeah im back #again

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