#i will never get over the body freckles

[transkingcobra]

Just two wood elves in love~

[theorist-fox]

Some more insecure Simon Riley talk, because he's precious.

18+

Word count: 1.4k

CW: nothing, just smut. Simon finds you in lingerie and has a stroke. I love him your honor.

Masterlist 🦊

𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬

Simon, who is not sure what to do with himself the first time you welcome him home in nothing but lingerie.

He’s so unbelievably tired, dropping his clothes on the floor of the bedroom without even lifting his head. Mumbling apologies to you—how he’ll clean tomorrow, how he just wants to go to bed and sleep fourteen hours straight, right now. Bonus points if you hold him through the night, too.

Yet you’re not replying, but he’s seen your silhouette in the darkness; he knows you’re awake because you whispered a soft “Welcome back” when he walked in the room. His heart pounds in his chest, his palms get clammy—he thinks he’s overstepping lines by not giving you the attention he thinks you deserve.

So, as he unzips his pants, he lifts his eyes to look at you, and fuck—

You’re lying on your side, propped on your elbow, chin tucked in your palm. Perfect tits covered in sheer fabric, burgundy and black, your nipples peeking through. The soft line of your waist is bare—he follows it with his eyes until they land on your hips. Ornated lace curves around your hipbone and thins into see-through, dark fabric over your mound. Two strips of silk clasp your knickers to a pair of thin stockings that cinch the fat of your thighs, and the sight makes his mouth water.

“Welcome back,” you say once again, this time with soft amusement.

He looks like a proper idiot. Hand still on his crotch, practically feeling how his cock comes to a stand at the mere sight of you.

He gulps. Feels a little lightheaded. “F’ me?”

You smile, chuckling softly but not derisively. Simon follows your hand as you guide it over your belly, up to the valley of your breast, as if you’re there, showing the goods he can pick and taste.

“For you.”

Simon is stunned into silence again.

Fuck is he supposed to do, uh? He’d be content just looking at you lying there and looking like you came out of a magazine, instead of touching you and potentially ruining what you did just for—for him?

He must not have noticed how his whole body (aside from his cock) has gone into standby—entered sniper mode. He's quiet, breaths reduced and silent, eyes attentive and narrowed.

It's a handful of seconds that leave you uncomfortable, as your plastic pose softens, your smile faltering at the corners.

“You don’t like it?” You ask, trying to sound steady, but he picks up the nervousness in your tone right away.

He won’t let you have it, obviously. He snaps out of it and takes you in for what you are: a fucking present, on his bed, wrapped in strings and bows and lace like gift wrap.

“Shoulda guessed it was too much, maybe. Should’ve gone for somethin’ soft—"

Simon is on you in seconds. Grabs your face in his hands and smashes his lips to yours something fierce, nothing like you’ve ever experienced before. No hesitation. Simple, tangible desire. Scorching lust. Want. Need—fuck, he’s never kissed you like this.

Your eyes lose their surprise, and they slowly surrender to him—hands wandering down to help him out of his pants and briefs. And then you wrap your arms around his neck, grazing his scalp with your nails until he shivers.

Simon thought there was nothing comparable to the softness of your skin against the harder patches of scars freckling his abdomen. But he’s proved wrong when he feels the rough texture of your lace scratch his chest and his hips—it has him leaking embarrassingly quick.

He’s all lips and tongue as he races down your chest, sloppy kisses leaving a burning trail between your tits, down your belly, settling on your cunt covered by thin mesh.

Simon looks up at you, holding your thighs between thick fingers, smushing them against his cheeks. His eyes are hooded, dark, different. He tilts his head and bites into the plump flesh within reach—not enough to hurt, but sure enough to taste. Mercifully passes his tongue over the teeth marks before biting into it again, until the sting has you arching your back off the bed.

And he never breaks eye contact, which leaves you dumbfounded and flustered to the bone—because where is this confidence coming from? You’re wide-eyed and biting your own teeth in anticipation—this is all new and all the more exciting.

His kisses travel from the lines of your stretch marks up to your sex, where he doesn’t even bother moving the gusset of your knickers, and he just dives in.

Tongue flat against your cunt, drenching the sheer fabric with his spit and your moisture. Your moans are so soft compared to the sloppy mess he’s making of you down there, his insecurity blessed by a sort of beginner’s luck. Or maybe he’s just that hungry, and that is enough for your cunt flutter around nothing anyway.

You’re speechless when he finally lifts himself up, slotting his hips between your kiss-bitten thighs. His cock lands heavy on your pelvis, painting your lower belly with speckles of sheer precum. Head swollen and red right above your belly button.

You look at him wide-eyed, on your back, stock-still—anticipating his next move with your heart rate spiking.

He takes you completely by surprise (once again? In one night? Who is this man?), when he moves your knickers to the side, and instead of plunging in, he slides his cock between your folds and snaps the lace back above it. And then he starts rutting in shameless abandon, holding you steady by your thighs, letting the sheer fabric of your panties cover his tip and half of his shaft, as he runs himself back and forth over the surface of your pussy.

“M’gonna ruin it, sorry.” He croaks, as one of his hands comes to clumsily grab your tits through the lace. “So fuckin’ pretty—fuck—bloody hell, you—”

You coax him to go on with breathless moans because he’s never looked more breathtaking than he does now. Tiny drops of sweat drip from his forehead onto your belly, cheeks flushed and long lashes fanning his cheekbones. His lips yield a grunt each time the lace scratches his shaft. Your breath hitches each time the head of his cock catches your clit.

“Gonna buy ya a new one, yeah?” He grunts, looking down at the wet patch his cock is making through the lace. “Gonna buy ya fuckin’ ten.”

He’s never been this vocal, and you don’t dare to mouth a whisper in case he catches himself in the act. Not even when you cum, a short and stinging orgasm that makes your clit burn at the friction, do you dare to moan. You tilt your head back and shut your eyes, neck corded in the strain to keep it in, flushing with warmth in unbearable silence.

You think you hear his voice crack through the cotton in your ears when you come back down from your high. “Fuck—God, fuck. Wha’ a gift, eh? F’ me. All f’me.”

He pulls back a few moments later, taking his cock out of your panties and into a thick hand. A few pumps, and he cums on your lace, painting your belly and your cunt in glistening white.

He’s panting as his hand languidly comes to a halt. Chest flushed and with a thin layer of sweat over it.

“Sorry,” he murmurs, clearly dizzy—as if he needs to apologize for this. “I ruined it. I—just—gonna go grab somethin’ to—to clean y'up, wait 'ere—Jesus Christ.”

He slowly comes to stand, knees popping and legs shaking as he stumbles to the bathroom.

You look down at the spurts of cum covering your stomach and staining the lace of your panties, and then you flop your head back onto the mattress, wide eyes locked to the ceiling.

A chuckle of disbelief escapes you, still in shock from the sudden switch in behavior. And you think, when he comes back with a towel to clean the mess he’s made on your skin, that you might have to take another trip to the shop this weekend—buy yourself a new little piece.

But later, then, he falls asleep with his head on your chest, fingers lazily toying with the lace of your bra (because he’s asked you to keep it on, you know—“Like how 't feels”), and so you move up your shopping a little—already on your phone, running your thumb to skim through pinks and blues, laces and silks.

You might just order a new one right now.

It’s at that moment that he shifts in his sleep, slipping his hand under the band of your lacy bra and curling his fingers around your breast.

You change your mind.

You might just order ten.

[emmyrosee]

“I didn’t know you had moles down your back.”

Kiyoomi pauses briefly to look at you over his shoulder, post shower body care being interrupted with your statement.

“We’ve been together for how long and you never knew that I had more moles on my body?” He asks, going back to applying his moisturizer. “Do you even look at my body?”

“Only the important parts,” you say, shrugging as you let your eyes wander slightly. There are more than a few freckles and moles on the broad space of his back, tracing like a constellation against the paleness of his skin. They lean along the right side of him, a few scattering on the left for an intricate design-

“Holy shit, stop staring at me,” he snickers, his eyes looking at you in the mirror. “I have moles. You kiss the ones on my forehead every morning. Chill.”

You get up and stalk over to him, arms wrapping lowly around his waist and face nuzzling into the dip of his back, “gonna have to kiss these ones too; they’ve been neglected too long.” You plant a few pecks to the bigger ones along his shoulder, and you smirk at the goosebumps that raise from your affection. “Ticklish?”

“I’ll knock you out with this lotion bottle,” he snarls, continuing his routine with you merely an add on to his body.

“Whatever.” You let your nails rake up the dip of his hips, only letting him go when he hisses and bumps his back against you to get you off. You kiss his warm skin one last time before making your way back to the perch on your shared bed, watching as his muscles and moles contort with every shift of his broad body as he applies his deodorant.

“What else are you hiding from me?”

“I’m having an affair,” he says simply.

“With who? Meian?”

“Yes.”

“You could never score Meian.”

“You’re just mad because Meian saw and admired my moles before you.”

You let out a few snorty laughters while he smirks to himself in the mirror, the night settling down into nothing uncommon or surprising, but perfect all the same.

God, you adore him.

“You’re ugly.”

“I love you too.”

[vampiefemme]

smut! 18+ below, minors dni.

thinking about ellie accidentally sending you a video of her fingering herself.

the video preview is completely dark, so you have no clue what to expect when you click the play button. you assume it’s another one of her rants - lately she’s taken to sending you clips of herself complaining about her family, work, politics. she’s sent a few videos of her trying new foods while completely obliterated on an edible, too, which you’re kind of hoping for. her eyes look so pretty all droopy and red, and she has the cutest laugh when she’s high.

but oh, no. this is… nothing like that.

you’re lounging in bed, head propped up against a pillow, when you get the notification from ellie and click to your text thread. you hit play on the video, watching with a furrowed brow as the camera moves from darkness - the forest green fabric of ellie’s duvet, you realize - to reveal her room. and it’s a familiar sight; you’ve been there a hundred times. but that’s where the familiarity ends.

because this new camera angle shows ellie naked from the waist down.

she’s flushed, her cheeks tinged the faintest shade of pink. her chest rises and falls in a quick rhythm; the light catches on a smear of wetness on her inner thigh, and you realize with a flutter in your belly that she’d been going at it for a while before she’d pulled out the camera.

“okay, fuck,” ellie pants, her voice a bit tinny through the speakers of your cell phone. she lifts one muscled thigh to her bed, which she’s standing before - right in front of the camera. your mouth goes dry as your eyes flicker over her body: heather grey tank riding up her toned hips, the faintest sheen of sweat on her chest, her thigh flexing as she spreads herself in front of the camera.

“i got close beforehand so i wouldn’t… didn’t wanna be nervous,” she says, avoiding eye contact with her phone. “but i’m - wait. why the fuck am i talking? you’re not supposed to talk in these, are you?”

blood rushes into your cheeks, warming your face until you feel like your skin is about to burn off. you should probably stop watching, shouldn’t you? you should click out of the video, pretend you never opened it in the first place. this is clearly not for you to see.

but you can’t look away.

ellie reaches her hand between her legs, and your stomach warms with arousal. there’s a flutter between your legs that leaves you squeezing your thighs together, seeking pressure.

“oh god,” ellie mutters as her fingers play in her own pussy, the lewd, wet sounds echoing. she slips a finger inside of herself, then two, her eyes fluttering shut as a string of curses leaves her lips.

she starts to pump her fingers, the heel of her hand pressed to her clit, and your breath catches in your throat when she looks up at the camera. you know she’s not really looking at you this way, but you tense up regardless. the look in her eyes is sultry, lustful, hungry.

there’s a growing damp spot on your underwear.

ellie’s getting close; her brows are pinched together in concentration, and each of her moans is more ragged and high-pitched than the last. beneath the thin fabric of her tank, you see her abs tense with her impending orgasm. you bite your lip until you’re sure you taste blood.

she comes with a shuddering cry, bicep flexing as her hand stalls between her legs. strands of auburn hair, darkened with sweat, cling to her freckled forehead. she lowers her leg from the bed and stands upright again, still panting. she reaches for the camera and the video ends.

you’re still staring wide-eyed at your phone when a series of texts come through from ellie.

oh my god

please tell me you didn’t see that

holy fuck i’m an idiot

i’m so sorry

i did not mean to send that to you. holy shit i’m sorry

your chest tightens with sympathy - you can imagine how panicked ellie is on the other line, how utterly ruined her post-orgasm bliss must be.

you type out a quick response: it’s okay. give me a second to reply, alright?

finding a convenient place to prop up your phone, you hook your thumbs over your underwear and tug them off, leaning forward to press record on your phone.

read part two here!

[bbokicidal]

First Times The Charm? | OT8 [SKZ]

Notes : This was a Drabble request someone sent in, so it's short, to the point, and simple. Hope you enjoy! Genre : Smut Warnings : 18+ Content Req : Giving SKZ head for the first time. <- But I altered it so it's not just 'you giving skz head for the first time' and rather, it's 'you giving skz their first head experience EVER.'

Chris :

He's so... so vocal. Constantly groaning, his voice low in his throat and gravely as if he'd just woken up. He's in Heaven, his head tipped back on the office chair he sat in. He's death gripping the poor arms of the chair, knuckles bright red from the flush that had covered his entire body. He, politely, refuses to touch you - partially because he's a little scared to and partially because he doesn't think he can move.

Minho :

In shambles. His body has a habit of trembling each time you take him in your throat and he swears he's never felt anything so good in his life. He's laid back in his bed, one arm draped over his eyes while the other sticks by his side, fingers splayed in your hair; gently pushing your head down each time he needs a little more. You learn very quickly he's a bit of a head pusher.

Changbin :

Stiff as a rock, but also a little tense and unsure. He's so shy seeing you between his fucking thick ass thighs already, his ears bright red and his cheeks warm with excitement. He loves it, he really does, he's just - He's got a bad habit of being a bit jumpy when people touch him. So when you go all the way down on his dick and deep throat him? His thighs snap shut around your head and he nearly suffocates you, not realizing it had happened until you have to slap his stomach and make him let you go. Not that it was that bad of an experience. You'd die happy there.

Hyunjin :

All vocals. Moaning, whining - even chuckling as you slurp on his cock. He's a bit arrogant when it comes to you giving him head. Even though it's his first time getting head from anyone, he's cocky about his size as it bulges in your throat and makes you choke. When he gets closer to release though, he's all breathy and sucking in air, biting his bottom lip as his hand rests atop your head.

Jisung :

So wiggly, so squirmy. Full of the jitter bugs as you go down on him. He's whiney. Very very vocal, very loud - so loud in fact that Minho has to tell him to shut up from the next room over. He gets all embarrassed, sliding his sweater sleeve over his hand and pressing it to his mouth to muffle his whimpers that escape. Also Lowkey fucking up into your mouth because he just can't keep still. Will ask you to eat his ass afterwards.

Felix :

Extremely laid back. The master of acting like he's had it before but you can tell by the blush dusting over his freckles that he's never had it done to him before. (He also told you that, but.) He's lounging back in his gaming chair and he's adoring the sight of you sucking on him like a lollipop. He loves the sounds you make, the soft moans and the wet noises from your tongue dragging on his cock. And he's a bit vocal too - all low moans and huffs of breath escaping his lips. He's very chill about it, but by the time he's coming down your throat his hands are on the back of your neck and he's humping your face.

Seungmin :

Refuses to touch you because he's shaking so much. He's near silent most of the time but he can tell that when you pause to look up at him for a reaction, he'll nod as quick as he can so you know it's perfect. He's falling apart under your touch, lying in his bed and subtly rocking his hips up into your mouth because of how much he loves it.

Jeongin :

Tou.chy. Touchy!! He's all over you, can't keep his hands to himself. At first he's cupping your face, but then he feels like he's in the way of your work so he's just resting them on your shoulders then. But then he feels like he's pushing you, so instead he busies himself with gathering your hair and pulling it back - and he's got big enough hands so it's easy for him. And when he blows, he places a hand around your throat to gently push you away so he can paint your pretty face with his cum.

Perm Taglist: @dwaekkicidal @jabmastersurpriseee @possum-playground

[tteokdoroki]

yuuji looks so good when he cream pies omg his eyes roll back in his head and he drools <333

warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact! nsfw, smut, characters aged up to 20s, creampies, breeding, overstimulation, implied multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, afab!reader - anon pls…. grabs my head like choso </3

because when yuuji cums he’s literally throwing all of his weight into his thrusts — bucking into you so wildly with your legs folded up by your ears. it’s easy to forget how strong he is when he looks so sweet and those brown puppy dog eyes stare down at you with so much lust.

…but when yuuji gets close he has this sudden burst of energy, chasing his high like a madman or someone looking for that same dopamine rush that their addiction gives them. he wants his cum to be so deep inside of you, doesn’t want to pull out of your tight, hot heat that ripples around his aching cock. just begging for him to fill you up.

that’s what you want, right? it’s what your body’s telling him.

“oh. oh my god. fuck—“ he stutters, his warm breath ghosting along your wet Cupid’s bow, honey brown eyes screwing shut every time you clench down on itadori’s cock through the after shocks of your high. “‘m gonna cum baby, all over… all over this pretty pussy. gonna fill you up, gonna cum inside you — gotta cum inside you.”

and he’s so desperate, gyrating his hips in circles while keeping his leaky cock nice ‘n snug inside you — yuuji doesn’t want to waste a drop, it’d be a shame if he couldn’t watch that thick white ooze out of your tiny hole.

it takes the pressure of your nails raking down his freckled back and the tug of his pink hair for yuuji to finally burst — the entire heaviness of his body collapses against your frame, his thrusts never stop as he pumps a thick, heavy load into you until your tummy swells from how much there is.

yuuji’s pretty brown eyes disappear into his skull, his jaw goes slack while he trembles weakly above you — drooling into the crevice of your neck while he twitches and shakes. “‘m sorry,” he moans hoarsely, pressing sloppy kisses to the corner of your mouth, your neck and your lips. “can’t help it, you make me cum so much ‘nd i want it all of it inside of you.” he pants against you like a promise, flinching at the smaller spurts of his arousal that paint your swollen folds and clit opaque white, causing more of it to seep out of you.

and it’s not long before itadori has the energy to go again, determined to push all of his cum up against your sensitive walls to make it stick. the night isn’t over until you’ve had your fill and yuuji itadori’s heavy balls are completely empty.

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[sunnysidevans]

Heart Of Texas - J.Seresin

Synopsis: While in Texas for your best friends bachelorette trip, the last thing you expect to find is the green eyed cowboy in the bar. Or to find him again months later.

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader.

Warnings: 18+, swearing, mentions of alcohol, mentions of the deed, soft jake(warning in himself really) , uh drunk marriage? not sure what to label that.

Authors Note: hi! i'm alive! I have had this draft for... MONTHS! I have not had much motiviation but upon it being hot glen summer. I'm here with my favorite green eyed boo.

The sun was shining bright through the soft gray curtains, causing you to squint. The silk sheets were soft against your skin. Rolling over in the King sized bed, you groan.

A night of bar hopping in the heart of Austin was probably not the smartest idea but the bride to be got what she wanted for her bachelorette party, her words playing on loop,

“I want to go to Austin and have a good time before I’m a married woman” .

The groan beside you pulls you from your thoughts, looking over beside you, gasping. You pull the sheet to cover your body, pulling yourself away from him and against the wall. “Oh my god” you whisper with a shake of your head.

Moving further against the wall and away from the man as he slowly woke up. Looking him up and down you take him in, he was tall, his feet hung off the bed slightly. His tanned skin and the small freckles adorned his chest, soft blonde hairs residing there. Once he opens his eyes, you note the soft green of his irises.

“What the hell?” he groans, hand falling to his forehead.

Then he looks over at you. You look like a deer in the headlights looking at him. Under his gaze, you can’t help but to pull the sheet tighter against your chest, less of his body being covered.

“Who are you?!” you whisper-yell. “Uh- My name's Jake” he chuckles, sitting up to push his body against the headboard. “Okay but why are you in my hotel room?” you ask.

He looks around the room, noticing the clothes scattered on the floor. "I think um” he rubs the back of his neck.

“I think we may have slept together Sugar” his drawl was soft, his voice deep and still riddled with sleep. 

“I think I can gather that '' you mumble, rubbing your eyes. The coldness of metal against your face pulls your hand away. “Oh-” looking down at your hand, then back at the man in front of you, who you now know is Jake. “what is it?” he asks from the end of the bed, looking back at you over his shoulder.

Holding your left hand up to him, you wiggle the small dainty band on your ring finger.

“Oh shit” his face pales, looking down at his own left hand, a simple band adored his own ring finger. “We’re fucking married” you mumble, pushing the sheet off your body to stand.

Grabbing your panties, you begin to pace the hotel room. “Dude, how the hell did we get married?!” you ask, looking at Jake. He chuckles with a shake of his head, hands on his knees. “FIrst of all, please put your tits away” rolling your eyes, you grab the first shirt in sight, buttoning it to look at him. “Please explain! What do you remember?” with your hands on your hips, he sighs. “Not more than you do,” he admits. “Just fuckin dandy” you mumble, pushing a hand through your hair.

“I must say, I do remember alot of shots, '' he admits, it causes you to chuckle. “I can’t believe this is happening right now” pacing infront of Jake, he sighs. “It’s okay, those marriages are never even legit, not legally” he admits, pulling his boxers on, standing infront of you. Stopping your pacing, he grabs your shoulders. “It’s alright Sugar” he smirks.

Rolling your eyes you push his hand off you. “It’s alright to you..” trailing off, you look at the floor infront of you, “Jake” he hums in response. You pick up the piece of paper infront of you.

“Certficate of Marriage'' you hold it out to him.

“Legally, I am now your wife” he rips the paper out of your hands, looking it over. “Oh shit” he looks back up at you then down to the paper. He goes to speak, knocking on the other side of the door stopping him.

Widening your eyes, looking around the room, you sigh. “Okay big guy” he goes to protest as you shove him into the bathroom quickly shutting the door before he can protest.

As the bathroom door shuts, your hotel room door opens. “Why did I think you should have a key?” you sigh. Your best friends are all making their way into the hotel room.

“Safety, I have all the room keys” Laura, bride to be smirks. She sits down on the bed, looking around the room.

“Are you okay?” she asks, looking at you with a smile. “I’m fine” you are lying through your teeth. “Are you okay?” you look at your best friend Wanda as she has a small smile.

“She texted Bradley at least 200 times last night, they’ve talked twice this morning” Laura says, looking between you and her friend with a deadpan look in her eyes.

“She’s in love” you admit with a grin. “I’m the one getting married!” Laura defends with a laugh. Wanda turns her gaze to you, “How are you standing?” she asks, you raise a brow. “What do you mean?” you ask, “You had a wild night” Allison says from beside you.

“What do you mean?” she chuckles, “you were all over that guy, he was so into you” Jake smirks from behind the door, listening to the conversation between you girls.

"oh really?” you ask as she nods. “I don’t remember his name but you guys hit it off..” she smirks looking around the hotel room. “You slept with him!” Wanda stands, pointing at you. “Okay” holding your hands up in surrender, you look between your group of friends.

“I remember nothing, um” you blush, knowing he had to be listening. “The sex was phenomenal okay?” The room cheers, Jake's smirk grows behind the bathroom door.

“You guys really were all over each other '' Laura nods, grinning. “Here, look'' she's pulling her phone out, showing you the photos. The night coming back to you, one photo at a time.

The music pounded through the speakers of the club. “I can’t believe that in two weeks I’ll be married!” Laura yells beside you, dancing with her own drink in hand. You smirk, sipping from your glass.

“In two weeks time we’ll be looking at Mrs.Machado!” you yell, the rest of the group cheering. “Oh! I love this song! C’mon!” You are pushed out onto the dance floor with your best friends. “Get Low” by lil John played through the speakers, singing loudly as you swayed your hips.

“Ohhhh (Y/N)! He is totally eye-fucking you!” looking over at Wanda, who sends a nod to the tall blonde at the bar. The same blonde who bought the drink you were currently nursing. He winks. Being the only single friend in the group made this a common occurrence.

You smirk, pointing to him as he smirks. Pointing to himself, you nod, motioning him over. Pushing your drink into the hands of poor Allison who was just trying to nurse her own hands.

You take his hand, pulling him away from the group of girls. “You know it’s rude to stare” you smirk, he shrugs, hands on your hips as he pulls you into his chest. Back to his chest, you didn't hesitate to grind your hips against his.

You feel his chest rumble, his chuckle against your ear. “Not that I see you complaining Sugar'' resting your hands on top of his, you continuing to grind against him.

“Neither is he!” you smirk, he couldn’t even be embarrassed as he knew you referring to his hard length that continued to poke your ass. 

Laura stopped on the last photo of the two of you, it looked like it was straight from a prono. “Oh” you nod, looking at her with a blush.

“I’m gonna assume that” Allison points at your shirt with a smirk, “is not yours”. The blush now made its way up your cheeks to your ears. “No,” shaking your head, you bite your lip.

“Allison owes me $20” Laura smirks, sitting down on the bed beside your best friends. You gasp, “You placed bets?!” the girls laugh. “I knew you’d go home with him, he couldn’t keep his hands off you” the night was coming back to Jake as he continued to sober up.

“Anyways” Wanda grins, “Get cleaned up and we’ll see you downstairs for brunch in an hour” you nod, smiling. “Okay, I’ll see you guys then” they all send you a wink on their way out of the door, you sigh as the door closes behind them.

“You can come out now” Jake makes his way from the bathroom. “They’re fun,” he smirks. You send him a glare, running a hand through your hair. “Sorry” he smiles. “What are we gonna do?” looking up at him, he can’t help but look you over.

You were gorgeous. The whole reason the night ended the way it did. “Well I have to head back to California in about 4 hours,” he admits, hand on his hips.

“California?” you ask as he nods, looking at you. “We’re from California” he chuckles, a weird coincidence. “Here” he picks his phone up from the floor, holding it out to you.

“Sounds like you will be busy so” he smirks, looking at the deadpand look on your face. “Give me your number and when we both have the time, we can see a lawyer” nodding slowly, you take the phone from his hands. Putting your number in, holding it back out to him.

“I did have a good time, from what I remember” he admits, sending you a quick text so you could save his own phone number. “It was also your idea to get married” gasping, you snap your head up to look at him.

“It was not!” you defend as he shakes his head, pulling his pants on. “It was Sugar” he smirks, hand on his hips.

He stood in just his pants, shirtless in your hotel room. He had a small tattoo on his pec, you just now noticed. “It’s my niece's handwriting,” he admits. You can’t help the smile that makes its way on your lips.

It was the only tattoo Jake Seresin put on his tanned skin.

You are getting yourself dressed, feeling him stare at you. “Can I help you?” he chuckles, “can I have my shirt?” he asks. You blush, unbuttoning the shirt to hold back out to him. “Thanks” you nod, turning back to him as you finish pulling the clothes from the night before back on.

“I’ll give you a call in like, a week or so?” he asks as you nod. “Uh, give me like a month, my best friend get’s married here in a few weeks” he nods, smiling. “No problem, I have a wedding myself” you smile, your own mind drifting to see him in a black tux.

“Okay” he makes his way to the door, “Jake” he stops, looking over his shoulder to you.

“Have a safe flight” he smiles, sending you another wink. “You too” 

+

A week later, you received a text from Jake. You never expected to hear from him until he was ready for a lawyer.

UNKOWN: Hey, You make it back okay?

You had to admit, you originally didn’t want to save his phone number, but you decided then, it was best to save it. You had nicknames for everyone, it was a love language for you, Jake getting his own.

You smirk as you save the nickname “Hungman”, for obvious reasons. 

YOU: I made it okay, how about you?

He smiled, he didn’t truly expect a response. He also saved a nickname for you in his phone, “Sugar” because you were just so sweet.

“Does it fit?!” Laura is knocking on the door, pushing it open to see you in the Lavendar dress she chose for you. “Oh, (Y/N) you look stunning!”  smiling at her in the mirror, turning to face her. “Are you sure?” she nods, helping you out of the room. “I love it” you smile, spinning on the small platform.

The week was leading to wedding preparations for the soon to be Mrs.Machado.

Including dress fittings to be sure the dresses from two months ago still were perfect. “Why are you so smiley?” Allison asks, smirking.  You shrug, looking at yourself in the mirror. “I bet she was texting Mr.Texas” Wanda smirks.

The group had given Jake his own nickname. “Jake just texted to make sure we all made it back okay” she coos, “how sweet,he was concerned about you” you smile.  Maybe he was, you werent sure.

You didn’t want to look into it too much. The way you didn’t want to just yet take the delicate gold band off your left ring finger. They had yet to notice it, you found no harm in keeping it on for the next week.

“The man, the myth , the legend!” Coyote shouts, standing from the chair at The Hard Deck. Jake smirks, holding his hands out in pride. “I’ve arrived” he chuckles, hugging his best friend. “Did you have a good trip home?” Fanboy asks beside him as he sits down. He thinks back, the gold band sitting against his chest. He didn’t want to destory it with work, opting to put it with his dog tags.

“Of course I did,” he smirks. “Back just in time for the wedding” Javy sits across from him, handing him the beer. “Did you get laid?” Payback lets curiosity get the best of him. “Of course he did” his best friend answers for him, Jake smirks. “Bradshaw!” Jake looks up at the mention of Bradley, smiling at him and then his girlfriend, Wanda. “Sorry guys, I had to go pick her up” he smiles at the redhead beside him. She waves, sitting down beside Javy.

“Hey guys” her smile is warm. Jake knew that her and Bradley were made for the other. “I’ll go get drinks baby, I’ll be back” he kisses her head, walking to the bar. “How was the trip?” Coyote asks, she smirks. “So good! I will be going back to Texas again” she smiles, “I missed Brad though so” Payback gags from his seat.

“Stop” Fanboy slaps him. The group all have significant others except Hangman. Javy had his fiance Laura, Bradley had Wanda and Mickey had Allison. Payback had a girlfriend but it was far from being serious.

Phoenix and Bob both had already been married before even coming back to Top Gun. The group had yet to meet their spouses. “Here baby” Rooster sits back down, looking at the group.

“Cap” he nods to Jake, a smirk on his face as he sips his beer. Captain Jake “Hangman” Seresin. He smirks behind his own beer. “Rooster” Wanda smiles at Hangman and the rest of the aviators.

She’s leaning over beside Javy, showing him pictures of his soon to be wife and her friends. He feels his phone buzz in his pocket. Pulling it out, he can’t help but smile.

Sugar: I found this on my phone, thought you may like it. 

Attached was a photo of the two of you, a selfie of cake frosting smeared on both of your faces. He smiles, hearting the photo and saving it to his camera roll.

He didn’t want to admit his “wife” was becoming just that to him.

His wife.

“What’s got you smiling?” Mickey asks, he shrugs. “Is it the girl you slept with?!” Jake sighs, looking at his group of friends. “You slept with somebody?” Rooster asks, as he nods. “I can’t say I’m surprised” he mumbles, Jake sending him a look.

“I did,” he nods, looking at his friends. “And you kept in contact with her?” Javy smirks, looking at his best friend. Well of course I did, we’re married is what he wanted to say, instead he smiles.

“I did,” the group cheers.

“Maybe the hangman is finally getting himself a lady!” he can’t help the blush that makes its way to his ears. The bar began filing in with the rest of the group's spouses, Laura first. “Gentleman” she smiles, sitting down beside Javy. Laura was also a pilot, just now an instructor at Top Gun. Then filed in Allison who sat beside Mickey.

Payback leaving to go pick up his new girlfriend Lily. “I think this is my que to go” Jake sighs, pulling cash from his pocket as he tosses it onto the table. “Oh Hangman” Laura shakes her head, frowning.

“You don’t have to go,” he shakes his head, standing from his seat. “I have some much needed sleep to catch up on” he lies through his teeth. He hated being the odd man out of the group.

He waved goodbye, making his way out of the hard deck, his mind drifting back to you. Pulling the phone from his pocket, he sighs at the text from Javy.

Javy: Don’t let it beat you up man, you will find that someone soon, maybe at the wedding!

The continuous buzzing of your phone causes you to groan.

You knew the minute that group chat was created it was gonna be nothing more than a headache.

Ally: I think (Y/N) should go on a date with Hangman.

Wanz: I agree! The poor guy left because he was the only single one.

Lars: He’s a really down to earth man (Y/N)! Once you get past the cocky exterior. 

Y/N: Can you guys not play matchmakers right now? I did really hit it off with Jake, remember?

Ally: He's in Texas ! You never know, your soulmate is right there, in Hangster. 

Wanz: Bradley said he really is nice and you guys would be so cute together.

You give up then, muting the notifications and tossing the phone back on the counter beside you. They meant well, knowing you just wanted to get back out there after your break up.

You groan at the buzzing of your phone again, picking it up ready to block whoever's number for the night.

Stopping short at the message, the ellipses follow. 

Hungman: Goodnight, Is it weird to text you goodnight? 

Another message following

Hungman: Thought that's what married couples do so why not?

You smile. Jake felt his chest tighten, he was thanking whoever above that you had read receipts on. 

Sugar: Goodnight Jake, We did drunkenly get married remember? My idea apparently. 

A smile on his lips, he replies quickly.

Hungman: I mean, I didn’t have to agree to it. You clearly wanted to marry me though. I mean look at me.

The ellipses follow a few times, going in and out before one final message. 

Sugar: I remember now you felt that way about me Mr. ;). Goodnight. 

-

The week was over before you could blink. Wedding prep was extremely stressful, in ways that made you happy to just be a bridesmaid.

“(Y/N)!” you fix the skirt on your body as you walk to the table, smiling at the group. “Bradley Bradshaw '' you smirk, kissing his cheek and making it around the table. Hugging the group as you sit down beside Allison and Mickey.

You loved the group of Aviators. Bradley was originally your friend first, then the group followed. “What is that?” Mickey asks, pointing to your hand. You look to where he was pointing, your heart dropped.

In the weeks you had been home from Texas, you did the very most to hide the wedding band. “(Y/N)” Javy’s voice is stern, looking at you with curious eyes. “What?” you say, pulling your hand off the table quickly. He’s faster, reaching over the table to stop you.

“Oh my god!” Wanda sits up in her seat. “You married Mr.Texas didnt you?!” she points, looking between the group. Slouching back in the seat, you pull your hand away from Javy. 

“Mr.Texas?” Mickey asks, chuckling. “She met a guy in Texas, they left. I just assumed they slept together but-” Allison smirks, looking at you. “That's where you snuck off to! You guys got married!” She's laughing. “This is not about me” you speak up, looking at Laura. She smiles, winking at you.

“This is about in less than a week, these two” you point to Laura and Javy “will be married!”.

The conversation now shifted to the wedding. You felt your blood pressure finally even out. You knew you should’ve taken the ring off. 

 In the last two weeks you shared lots of photos and texts with your husband, well Jake. He shared his own photos, asking you about your day. It was all things you were not used to.

Dating in a place so full of Naval Pilots was hard, it was not your type as it was your friends.

Having enough Navy friends, you were shunned off piolts. The group continued mumbling between themselves as you sipped your wine. Your phone then rang, furrowing your brows as you pulled it out.

Why was he calling you? Standing, Bradley notices first. He takes the hand closest to him as you pass. “Where you goin?” he asks, a gentle smile on his face.

“Uh, Jake is calling me, I just want to make sure he’s okay” his brain calculated what you said, before he put together Mr.Texas was Jake. “Okay” he smiles, giving your hand a squeeze.

“I’ll be back” you smile, walking outside quickly. “Hello?” he sighs, “thank god”. You frown, “Jake are you alright?” he smiles.

“Yeah, I just wanted to hear your voice” he admits, you can’t help the smile that grows on your lips.

“You know I am having dinner with my friends tonight” he chuckles. “I know I got the photos you sent, I just- I don’t know I wanted to say hi” he smiles.

He didn’t want to admit that he was starting to feel things for you. “Jake” you chuckle, looking in the window at your friends, none the wiser.

“I just wanted to talk to my wife” your heart starts beating harder in your chest. “You wanted to talk to your wife huh?” he smirks, it sounded even better when it came from your lips. “Yeah, I just want to say” he clears his throat.

“Have a fun evening, please text me once you make it home” you chuckle. “That's very Husband-y of you” he smirks. “I am a husband, your husband”  you blush.

“Okay Mr.Seresin, I will text you when I get home” he smirks,  “I also sent you some money if you need, Mrs.Seresin” it felt odd, but in a good way as legally, you were Mrs.Seresin.

“Jake,” he scoffs. “Nope, as a husband I am taking care of my wife, now go have fun” he blows a kiss over the speaker, hanging up before you can protest. You sigh with a smile. Typing out a quick text.

Sugar: Thank you, Husband. I appreciate you <3.

He can’t help the grin on his lips, looking over the text. He wouldn’t hate the idea of actually being a husband. The lawyer was the last thing on his mind. Making your way back inside, smiling at the text.

Hungman: No problem, Wife. Have a fun evening, talk later <3.

-

Wedding day had finally arrived, looking around the room, you sigh. “Where the hell is Laura?” you ask, standing in the suite with Allison and Wanda.

“I have no idea” you sigh, shaking your head. You knew she was not getting cold feet. “I’ll be right back” shutting the door behind you, you walk down the hallway with the bottom of your dress in hand.

Turning the corner you stop. Javy and Laura, both standing on the patio together. You clear your throat, both looking like deer in the headlights.

“This is not tradition” you say, arms crossed and brow raised. “I’m sorry” Laura smiles, hand locking with her now soon to be husband.

“Get back in the room, you have to get ready” she nods, kissing Javy one last time before she’s pushing past you.

Following her down the hallway as she got steps ahead of you. “Can’t believe you pulled me away from my husband” she gruffs, jokingly of course as you smile behind her. “I’m sorry miss, “I want a traditional wedding’” you throw the air quotes out to her.

She shakes her head, pushing into the room accompanied by the rest of your friend group and parents.

“I’ll be right back” you send her a reassuring smile, walking away from the room. It was hitting you a lot harder today that you were again only a bridesmaid and never a bride.

You tried hard not to mess up the makeup the lovely artist did trying to avoid the tears rolling down your cheeks. In the process, you don't notice the person in front of you, running into a hard chest. Soft hands catching you from falling, “woah there”.

Your whole body tenses, you knew that voice.

You look up to meet the same green eyes you had been thinking about for weeks. “Jake?” his hands remain on your shoulders. “(Y/N)?” his voice going up an octave in surprise.

“What are you doing here?” you ask as he looks you over, the lavender dress looks beautiful on you, “why are you crying?”.

You sniffle, shaking your head, “no answer my question first” he chuckles at your stubbornness. "My best friend is getting married today to his fiance, Laura” you gasp.

“Oh my god” you move from his arms, chuckling. “You are Hangman!” you point as his smirk grows wider.

“Javy’s best friend from top gun, oh my god” he nods sucking his teeth as he shoved his hands into the pockets of his suit. “You are Laura’s best friend” you nod, looking at him.

“What the fuck” you whisper, more to yourself than him. “I did not put this together” he nods, walking closer to you.

“Wanda and Allison tried setting me up with you” the words flow faster than you can process you are saying them as he laughs, a full belly laugh.

“Did you tell them that I am already your husband?” he asks as he then notices the ring on your left hand as it's brushing your cheeks. “No, I didn’t because I had no idea you were the same person” you chuckle, shaking your head again.

“I’m happy to see you,” he admits, looking at you. Looking back at him, you finally take him in, the black suit against the lavender shirt he wore under, bowtie tied neatly.

He looked as good as he did the last time you saw him in person. He smiles under your gaze, “I’m happy to see you too” . It's soft but in the large corridor it wasn’t hard to miss. 

“Hey (Y/N)-” Bradley stops short at the end of the hallway, looking between you and Hangman. “Hangman, what did you do?” he starts making his way down the hall to get closer to you. Moving to stand in front of Jake, you stop Bradley.

“Bradley” he stops, looking between the two of you.

“Hangman is Jake” Bradley nods, looking between the two of you, “yes his name is Jake, what does that have to do with what is going on?” you shake your head, chuckling.

“Mr.Texas?” you ask, Bradley stops for a few seconds before he is chuckling. Jake slips a hand to rest on your hip, looking between you and his now friend. “She was the girl you slept with in Texas?!” He points to you, looking at Hangman.

Jake nods, looking at him with a sheepish smile, “Yes”.

“Oh my god, I can’t believe out of all the people in Austin Texas you married Hangman!” he laughs with a shake of his head.  “Can I just say something?” you ask, between both aviators.

“One, I had no idea he was in the Navy until about five minutes ago. Second, he was just Jake in Texas, a southern gentleman” you look at Jake over your shoulder, he smiles down at you.

“Did he get me in his bed and marry him? I mean yes but I am also a grown woman, I had no idea he was the Hangman that you all talk about” Bradley nods slowly.

“I’m still in shock,” you admit, looking between them. “You have to tell the girls,” Bradley smirks, looking at you. “I vouched for you and everything Hangman!” he laughs at his friend, who furrows his brows.

“The text said, and I quote “Bradley says he really is nice and you guys would be so cute together” so I mean he did” you say, nodding between the two of them. “Had I known you already went out and put a ring on it” Bradley mumbles with a grin.

“How did I not recognize the girls' voices when they were in the hotel room?” he asks as you shrug. “We were hungover and barely remembered how we ended up there,” he nodded with a laugh.

“Okay point taken”  you smile, looking between your two friends. “Well anyways, Hangman we are being summoned by the groom” Bradley smiles, “I’ll see you two later” he smirks, laughing as he makes his way back down the hall.

You turn to face Jake with a smile. “Mr.Texas?” he asks, hands resting on your waist. You laugh, nodding, “The girls all nicknamed you Mr.Texas, I reminded them time and time again you were Jake”.

He smiles, looking at you. “Go” you whisper, resting your hand on his arm. “I will see you later okay?” he nods, leaning down to kiss your cheek.

“I’ll see you later, Mrs.Seresin” he winks, walking back down the hallway the same way Bradley did.

He doesn’t miss the blush on your cheek. With a deep breath, you make your way back to the bride's suite.

“There you are!” Laura is grinning, holding a hand out to you. “Sorry, I’m here” you make your way to her, taking her hand.

“I want to tell you something” she’s whispering, looking at you.

“What is it?” you ask, squeezing her hand. “I never thought I would be here, marrying such an amazing man” she’s holding back tears as she continues, “I never thought I’d have such amazing friends like I do you and the group, I want you to know first” she’s grinning.

You nod, reaching out to wipe a tear from her face, “I’m having a baby”.

You grin, tears making their way to your eyes. “And I want you to be their god mother, Javy has already decided to ask Hangman to be godfather” you grin, both at the mention of Hangman and of the baby. “I’m honored” you smile, pulling her into a tight hug. 

The wedding kicked off smoothly. You stood beside your best friend, watching as she married the love of her life. Doing your best to avoid crying, failing as they shared vows. You look up from the bouquet in your hand, Jake winks at you from his spot beside Javy. You blush, looking back at the couple.

“I now pronounce you, Mr and Mrs Machado!” the priest cheers as everyone follows suit. Jake waited so he could walk the aisle with you.

Following his best friend as he held an arm out to you. You move beside him and you link your arm through his, following the train of Laura’s dress.

Bradley smirks from his spot at the altar watching the scene in front of him as he was the only one to know.

He’s then looking at his own girlfriend as if she held the world. Following them outside, standing beside the rest of your best friends as you are throwing flower petals at the couple with cheers.

“See you all at the reception!” Javy grins, helping his now wife into the car, following after her.

“Wanna ride with us?” Mickey asks from beside you, smiling. Jake’s hands make their way back to your waist, shaking his head. “I got her” you smile at the look on Mickey's face, looking between the two of you.

“I’ll ride with Jake” you take his hand off your waist, lacing your fingers together. “Okay” He trails off, following Allison as she paid none the wiser of what was happening behind her. 

“I now welcome you, Mr. and Mrs. Javy Machado!” you grin, cheering beside your friends as Laura and Javy make their way into the reception.

Laura looked gorgeous in the dress she chose. Jake beside you as he grins at his best friend. He was happy for them, even more happy having you beside him. You look up at the feeling of a hand on your arm, smiling at Wanda. “We need to talk” you frown, looking at her.

“Are you okay?” you ask, now turning to your best friend. She nods, smiling. “Hi Hangman” he nods, sending her a smile.

“Wanda” he nods and makes his way from the two of you to join his group of friends. You watch as he congratulates his friends, not missing the smile he shared with Laura.

“It’s Hangman?!” she’s whisper-yelling. “Huh?” you look back at Wanda, Allison on her way to join you. “Mr. Texas was Jake Seresin?!” she whispers a grin on her face. You blush, looking at your friends.

“What?!” Allison asks from beside Wanda, looking at you. “Yes, Jake is Mr.Texas aka Hangman” you look at them with a blush. “I can not believe this” Allison is laughing, watching you. “I can’t believe we tried setting you up and he already put a ring on it!” you laugh.

“Don’t be mad, Bradley told me” Wanda says, hand on your arm. Shaking your head, you smile. “I planned on telling you, I just haven’t told Laura because well it’s her day” you say, cutting short at the mention of your friend.

“What haven’t you told me?” she asks, glass in her hand.

“(Y/N) married Hangman!” you gasp, looking at Wanda.

“What?!” Laura  is looking between you and back over at Jake, who stood with her husband. “Mr.Texas?!” she asks as you nod. “It all makes sense now, I mean sure Jake is a common name but in Austin Texas” she grins. “How did we not recognize him?” Laura asks the group, they shrug, “We were drunk and it was dark” Wanda says, they all laugh. 

Making it through the crowd, you approach the group of Aviators. “Gentleman” you smile, looking between them, looking at Javy. “Javy, Congratulations” you smile as he pulls you into a tight hug.

You had grown close to Javy as he was like your big brother. “Thank you (Y/N/N)” you smile, moving back to stand beside Jake who doesn’t hesitate to wrap an arm around you.

“Am I missing something?” Javy asks, looking between the two of you. “They’re married!” Bradley yells from behind him with a smirk.

“What?!” he looks at his best friend, who grins. “I am indeed Mr.Texas” Jake laughs at the nickname, looking at his friend. “And I am the mystery texas girl” you are also laughing.

"Oh my god!" Javy is laughing, hand on his stomach as he looks between the two of you. "And all this time Laura has been trying to set the two of you up!" he points out as his wife joins his side with a grin. "I mean I did if you think about it" the two Machado's grin.

“Are you gonna stay married?” the question was loaded, in the weeks since you returned to San Diego neither you or jake thought about divorce.

“I don’t know” you say, looking up at the man beside you. “We'll see” you wink, moving from his grip and making your way back over to your friends. “I can not believe you two are married and I-” Javy furrows his brows.

“I never saw your ring! None of us did” Jake grins, holding his left hand up, “I wore it on my tags, didn’t want to ruin it, but I whipped it out for today” he shrugs as he sips the beer in his hand. 

The reception continued on with drinks, laughs and speeches. The group all found out slowly you were indeed married to the captain of the squad.

Standing on the balcony of the venue, you close your eyes and take in the breeze.

“You know the party is not out here” you smile, the southern drawl making itself known now that he was a few drinks in. “I know” standing from the railing, you turn to face him.

He smiles, his suit jacket now discarded, now just the lavender button up. “I needed a few minutes,” you admit, looking at him.

He nods, moving to stand beside you. “Can I ask you something?” he asks, looking over at you.

Nodding, he continues. “Do you want to get divorced?” biting your lip, you shrug. “I don’t know,” you admit.

“I don’t” he admits sipping from the beer in his hands.

“What?” you look over at him, looking over his face. “I think I'd like to see where we can go,” he admits. You blush, looking away from him, “Oh” your voice is soft.

“I don’t know, something feels right, it has for the last few weeks” he’s spilling now, he realizes.

“In the nights that we talked, the texting, the photos” he shrugs, looking down at you. “I can’t help but think maybe we could make this marriage work,” he smiles. You bite your lip, nodding slowly.

You had the same feelings, but in the group of your friends you knew the reputation Hangman held.

“Are you ready to be tied down to someone, let alone me?” you ask, he chuckles.

“I haven’t looked another woman's way since you” he admits, looking at you.

“Really?” you ask as he nods. “I realize now what you’ve heard about me, how I sleep around and all but” he shrugs, moving closer to you.

“I am a simple man. I want a wife and a life with someone I love” you look up at him as he continues. “Now, did our marriage start traditionally? Of course not. I want to build it” he smiles, hand reaching out to cup your cheeks. “I want to take you on dates and woo you, be the husband you deserve” leaning into his hand, you kiss his palm.

“I won't lie I didn’t expect you to lay it on so thick” you grin. He chuckles, looking at you.

“What do you say Sugar?” he asks, his voice now deeper and accent thicker.

You nod, leaning up to connect your lips to his. Taking him by surprise as he doesn't kiss back at first but within seconds, kissing you again.

He’s pulling you against his body, hand on the back of your head to pull you and your lips closer. As you kissed him, you realized two things.

Laura was so smart for picking Austin for her bachelorette party. And when you left Texas, you left half your heart there.

The smooth talking green eyed pilot taking a piece of your heart and holding it with him. Traveling back to California with him, and holding it close as he himself was close.

“Can I take you out officially?” he asks softly, "soberly, of course" he nudges your nose. “I think that can be arranged,” he smirks, kissing you again.

God did you love Texas. 

Authors Note part II: I must admit I don't think this is my best work but I think the story is good and kind of hallmark-y? But lawd! did anyone see this fic going where it did? let me know your thoughts! of course, likes, reblogs and comments are always welcomed!

and of course, if you liked this fic you can find more of my work in the library here

⇾ The Library

[sh1-n0bu]

i have noticed a small pattern of elves being on my latest fictional character obsessions and HEAR ME OUT!!

elf who has lived for hundreds upon thousands of years, who had experienced many of the things the world has to offer. sadness of bidding hundreds of farewells to the beauty of life and alliance of different races

elf who even after all his years of living still yet to find a love for himself. regal and seemingly detached to the concepts of relationships elves may be, even they get lonely. some nights feeling a little bit too long, a little bit too cold as they add another layer of blanket over themselves or reaching over to hug one of his puffy pillows like how he would hug his future lover. the coldness of being immortal seeping into his bones and making him shiver despite elves being above the concept of getting sick or feeling the cold temperatures

elf who runs into you by some chance meeting. maybe you were walking in the territory of elves without knowing it, maybe he purposely goes to human residences and towns, seeking adventure, excitement and change of pace. who immediately is enamored by you just by your smile that you flash his way, a kind one, a gentle one, to a nearby passenger. who falls in love with the callouses of your hand, the freckles, the small scars, the little bits of imperfection that marked you as clearly human, very much mortal, very much brittle but still with your own strength that he hasn’t felt before

elf bf who starts to court you the moment he realizes that you weren’t seeing anyone, bringing small gifts, exchanging knowledge, singing you soft ancient lullabies that no other mortal has ever heard before. maybe he finds himself writing a poem about you one day, describing your looks, your feelings, your everyday actions that you may see as mundane but ones he sees as just as courageous and beautiful in their own ways

elf bf who has never seen human flesh or bare skin before, finding the rippling biceps and toned legs of yours to be… curious. a tentative finger touching the muscles here and there, stopping you mid work as he inquires about them in a soft tone. elves of course were magical beings, blessed with magic and eternity and had no need to develop visible physical muscles till the point they become buff or beefy to some extent all due to their magic and ancient powers. the tips of his pointy ear twitching softly, eyes wide in wonder as you explain that contrary to his kin, your own develop muscles if they are put to work in physically demanding job for enough time

elf bf who over time, finds himself obsessively scribbling down any sort of new information about human anatomy on a journal, always asking you new things as he finds himself able to learn more despite having been alive for hundreds upon thousands of years. tracing the old faded scars on your body with the tip of his finger, counting the freckles, kissing the stretch marks as they were all you. regardless of how you see it, to him it was all you, together and healthy. you were alive even if you may have battle scars and he always makes sure to thank the stars as it was thanks to the tribulations you have conquered that you two were here now. staring eye to eye, touching your foreheads together as you whisper about mundane things

elf bf who one day sees you cut down a tree, cut a log off or prepare firewood and finds that he was imagining the bulge of your muscles against himself. big arms caging him in a bear hug, legs to support him and strong back that he could sink his nails into as he moans under you— hold. since when has his thoughts of you turned… impure? since when has he become turned on? sitting there on one of the logs with a painful strain against his pants as he swallowed the saliva that gathered in his jaw down, tearing his gaze away. no no, he really shouldn’t think of you as such, you were still in courting phase after all and elves were a race that took their romances and courting extremely important

yet regardless of his kin’s customs and traditions, your pretty elf bf couldn’t help but continue to stare. his gaze constantly seeking your figure out, seeing you just go through the motions of every life peacefully while he gets pathetically turned on by your actions as if he was still but a fledgling who learned of a kiss. chopping down trees for firewood, maybe you would work in front of a fire or heat for too long and get sweaty, removing one of the overtunics. maybe you’re just simply dragging a bucket full of water from the well, cranking the pulley as the muscles on your arms and back strained

elf bf who finds himself extremely aroused as his mind wanders to the gutters as he just shamelessly stares at your working form. oh, to feel those calloused hands touch his colder skin, palms smoothening over his creamy skin, and down his chest, his stomach and over his bulge. maybe you would tease the poor thing, tease him of how quick he is to get aroused, the pre of his half-hard cock weeping through his underwear and pants like he was some sore pathetic loser. a little virgin. bully him about being unable to use his cock, make him whine at your mean words as his hips weakly buckle under your exploratory hands

elf bf who couldn’t help but imagine the usual sweetness of your attitude gone, replaced by one that was just a tad bit meaner as you pushes his face down into the pillows of your bed, force his hands to stretch open his puckering hole for you to fuck senselessly. imagining you whispering all sorts of filth into his twitching ears, promising to breed him full, to use him to your heart’s content all night long as he whines and squeals like a little lamb caught in the nest of a hungry wolf. who couldn’t swallow down the quiet whimper coming from his throat as he imagined your hand grasping at his long locks, fisting it tightly as you yank him back, forcing him to arch his back and push the tip of your cock to bruise his guts even more

elf bf who waves off your worry when you had managed to hear the embarrassing noise that slipped past his lips, saying that he was having a bit of a sore throat. gods, he would love to actually whimper from having a sore throat of getting his mouth plowed all day by your fat cock head forcing his jaws wiiideee open

elf bf who couldn’t help but get a little needy in his kisses since then. hands that touched your muscles with curiosity now running over your skin as if trying to feebly seduce you. dropping things to the ground a bit too many times, following you close behind even as you told him that some of the work you needed to do required space and for him to be away for his own safety. who straddles your lap all snug, pushing his chest flush against your own as your simply daily evening kisses after dinner becomes a bit too heated. he definitely had little to no experience with the way his tongue kept licking at your lips meagerly, long fingers curling over your shoulders tightly while his bucking hips on your lap as he starts to get hard again

elf bf who has finally had enough of just his meager imaginations, tugging on the strings of your white tunic with shaky hands as he rambles about touching you, you touching him, feeling him, using him — anything dammit! use those hands of yours on him!

elf bf who soon realizes that he had perhaps bitten off more than he could chew when your hands grip at his hips, dragging his clothed cock against your thigh that had him whining like a cat in heat. meagerly, he tries to replicate what you just made him do, dragging his hips back and forth on your thigh but he all but just looks like an inexperienced bunny. which he probably was judging by the things he spoke to you about himself

elf bf who finds so much pleasure in simply grinding against your thigh for now, the precum of his now hard cock weeping through his pants, staining it into a darker color. all cute and red in the face that spread to his pointy ears, cute high pitched whines falling from his chewed up pink lips. a cute, surprised “a-aahn♡︎??” echoing in the room as you pull his eager body against your own. your chest to his back, hands loosely draped over the hip bone of his

elf bf who lets out the most embarrassing high pitched squeals when your hands travel up his body under his clothes, traveling more and more until teasing at his nipples. rolling your fingertips against the soft areola, squeezing and fondling his pecks as if they were breasts. who jolts in place when you pinch at the hardened buds, tugging at them to test the waters as he arches his back off of your chest, a filthy mewl falling as if he was being fucked stupid already

elf bf who blubbers out uncharacteristic words of “s-shensiitiivgh♡︎ n-no, don’t pinch the-eeengk♡︎♡︎!“ his pleads of your rough hands not torturing his sensitive nipples being replaced with an open mouthed wail when you place a kiss to the pointy tip of his ear. his ears were so sensitive! you knew that and now you were just being downright mean to him as you whisper filth into his ears of acting like a cooped up virgin for merely getting his chest played with. he wasn’t! he was way older than you! slurring out “how c-could you be sooh m-meanngk…♡︎?” as you lick a slow stripe up the pointy helix

elf bf who bucks his hips on your thigh, trying to bounce, trying to move away but ending up whining as his clothed cock grazes against your hardened muscles again. his cute nipples being tortured and groped by your hands, the delicate helix of his ears being assaulted by your wet kisses and licks. any time your hot breath spoke into his ears of how he was such a precious little thing, just like a bunny in heat, he would try to wiggle away. shaking his head with a weak sniffle, his mind churning into a mush as all he could do was to pathetically fuck his cock into your thigh, letting out a soft mewl everytime you buck your leg up to meet his shy excuse of thrusts, jumping in place

elf bf whose minds and body starts to feel weird. the room feeling stifling and your touch making his own skin heat up too much. who tries to tell you that he was feeling ‘odd’ and concerned, yet only to harshly thrust his hips back into your own arousal. eyes widening, a shudder running down his spine at the feeling. still clothed and hidden like his own but good grief, it just felt… so huge since he was sure your human dick couldn’t possibly be much bigger than his own. but no, it got him gulping down the saliva in his mouth

elf bf who bounces himself experimentally onto your own hardened, covered dick, feeling his balls brush against where he guesses is the tip of your strap. his earlier cute whines growing in volume as your torture of his sensitive spots grow worse, groping, squeezing, calling him too eager to get fucked, making him dumb and airheaded. the constant tugs to his chest, the words you spat into his mind so lovingly and the small actions of your hips thrusting up to meet his own weaker excuse of grinding

elf bf who’s voice grow more and more breathier, who finally loses it as he throws himself back against your chest, his head on your shoulder as he let out a wail of “h-hoowt!! t-too ahgg♡︎ haah anhg t-too hoounwt...♥︎!” as he cums into his pants, dirtying the material as a single glob or two of his sweet transparent arousal oozes out through the linen. the dark patch growing into a considerable size, his body racked with twitches and jolts as he cums untouched on your lap. precious little thing getting drunk on the feeling of sex and physical pleasure so much till the point he disregards all of his traditions, bending himself over onto the bed, his hand reaching back to tug you forward by the belt with a desperate whine and a cute blown wide pupils and twitching ears♡︎

⇨ meludir, lindir, legolas, maglor, mairon + whoever you like

[theresascove]

guitar lessons

ellie williams x f!reader

ellie—your guitar instructor—shows you how to play guitar, and you show her your own personal talents in the practice room

tw: not proofread, SMUT, modern!au, guitar instructor!Ellie, top!reader, bottom!ellie, fingering (e!receiving), oral (e!receiving), loser!Ellie, sort of exhibition? (Sex in a practice room), hand over Ellie’s mouth to quiet her, overstim

wc ✎ 1.1k __ I wrote this to give more content to bottom!Ellie, I personally believe there’s WAY too little

You’ve been attending her lessons for some time now. You had scanned the QR code offered to you and put your information in. About a week later you got an email back and here you are now—a month and half in. The institute was about a fifteen minutes drive, the building being one smooshed between other smaller companies.

First applying for these lessons, you had no expectations—but each time you’ve opened that front door you have to shake off your nerves. The first time you came through this door and saw her, your instructor, you had to do a double take. She looked about your age, hair short and hanging around her shoulders. Her guitar was set beside her, one you recognize from a popular and reputable brand. She was on her phone, looking up at you when you signaled your arrival by opening the door. She shook your hand, introducing herself before taking the both of you back to the practice room in the back.

You barely knew chords then, only knowing the basic G and C major. She’s taught you a lot, and now you’ve begun to play a few songs, understand a few more chords, and you can even pluck a few songs. Sure you’ve learned a bit, but at the same time there were lessons where you didn’t pay any attention. It was the ones when she’d lean close, her fingers covering yours—showing you how to press tighter onto the guitar so it doesn’t buzz. She always had to show you a few times because the first time you never “got it.”

Now you grab the guitar from your car, moving into the building with the same old deep breath, preparing for whatever’s to be shown. She was in the back practice room, eyes raising to yours as you open the door.

“Hey,” she leans to set her phone down on the ground, “you practice at all this week?”

“Uh,” you laugh, sitting across from her.

“Shit yeah of course, you didn’t.”

You bring your guitar out of its case, setting it your lap, “I’ve had a lot going on, I promise I will this next week.”

She sets her pick in between her lips, humming and reaching behind her for her own guitar. As she pulls it out again, you watch each movement—eyes locked on her lips.

“I don’t believe you, but anyways.”

The lesson kicks off. She tries to pick off where you two left off, but it proves difficult with no practice. It started out with re-going over the song before she tried working on the parts you were messing up on.She’s showing a newer chord, one that has your own fingers struggling to grasp—slipping between the bars. She had moved her guitar beside her yet again, her eyes watching you try and get this and fail miserably each time.

“How’re you getting it?”

She rolls her eyes, “skill.”

With a huff she leans in again, closing the distance between you two. Her callused fingers brushing yours and pressing them, moving them where’s needed. Your pupils pretty much dilate, breathing turning sharp. She’s so close, you can count each freckle on her face and describe her eye color exactly.

“Did you grasp any of what I just said?”

Her voice’s so low, raspy—it drives you up the wall. Holy fuck you wanted to push her against the wall. Her voice, fingers, lips, eyes, body. Maybe you were too overly obvious about your attraction to her physically because she reacts. Her eyes widen just subtly, body stilling at the look coming upon your face. She looks a little taken aback, but she doesn’t move away.

You slide your fingers on top of hers, “can I kiss you?”

As she comes to nod, you’re sliding your guitar off your lap and pulling her in. A hand on her jaw, angling her to start the kiss off deep. You reconnect your lips again, not caring to try and really breathe because all you want to do is breathe her in. You’re desperate.

The angle is awkward, reaching—so you ease it on the both of you. She ends up pushed against the wall just as you’ve imagined so many times. Her hands grappling to hold onto the sponge-like walls, gasping between each kiss. Each sound escaping her drives your mind into a lust-hazed frame of mind.

“Is this okay,” you huff, “will you tell me if I go too far?”

“Yes.”

You pull at her sweats, kissing along her jaw as you drag them down and off somewhere. Right after you’re hiking her leg up, drawing it to rest on your hip to spread her further. Her eyes open to find yours and her focus is gone, she’s already under the effect of your touch. She shivers as you draw your hand down, breathing heavily when you reach her cunt.

“You’re intoxicating—shit.”

With a tug you pull her underwear to the side, rubbing before thrusting a finger in. She moans, head hitting the wall behind her—eyes still looking at you. There’s barely anytime set between when you first insert your first between moving to three. You have her moaning to a concerning volume. With your free hand you cover your mouth, feeling her hot breaths against it.

“Shh, can’t have others knowing.”

She’s whining behind your hand, hips jerking when you hit a spot that throws her over the edge. Everything is exactly how you’ve been imagining, quick flashes of how you’ve wanted to take her whenever she got close to you. She shakes when she reaches her high, covering your fingers.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize, unsympathetically. She looks confused until she sees you lower yourself to your knees and kiss her inner thigh. She singsongs when you kiss her overstimulated clit. Your name falls from her lips as you do so, almost a hiss before she covers her own mouth to try and keep quiet. Just beside you are piano sounds and singing, most likely a kid learning his scales and warming up for his vocal lesson. Here you have Ellie in another kind of vocal lesson, voice coming out pitchy and whiny.

“I’m going to—again.”

You hum against her, grinning at her tone and licking her completely to see the reaction she has. Each thing she does really is intoxicating, it fills your own mind with nonsense—nothing but her. Her tattoo’d arm is gripping you, the other set upon her face. Her eyes are shut, squinted and trying to calm herself. The second after she comes again, you’re licking her clean—savoring each moment.

“You’re nasty,” she huffs.

You stand, meeting her in a passionate kiss, “maybe, but you enjoyed it.”

“Maybe.”

[loserboysandlithium]

Fantasy: Eddie x reader x Billy

Part one, part two, part three, part four

Four part mini series. Minors DNI. Explicit sexual content

I can't just walk up and ask him. Hey! Wanna fuck me and my boyfriend?

How do I do this? Fuck, he's pretty.

"Just an oil change?" Billy mumbles, bringing you out of your thoughts.

"Hmm? Oh, yeah. Just the oil... I think." you say shyly and he meets your eyes for the first time, giving you a little smile.

"Is that your car?" you gesture toward his Camaro. You know it's his. It's the same car he had in school. It still looks just as pretty.

He really smiles then. "Yeah, that's my baby." he grins, glancing over at his pride and joy. The topic opens up the door for conversation, and he begins to talk a little more as he changes your oil. You can’t help but watch him as he works, taking in his white tank top, little grease smears splattered all over it. The fabric clinging to his muscles.

There's something about a man with dirty hands. Working hands. Fuck me.

His sandy curls hang loose around his neck, freckles peppering his tan skin. His jeans hug his muscular thighs, the denim practically painted on. And that ass. Fuck.

He continues making small talk. Asking how life after school has been. It's been a while since you've seen him. Every once in a while you'd run into him in the grocery store or at a gas station but you always avoided him.

"You look good." he drawls and you notice his eyes slowly roaming over your body. He doesn’t try to hide it for a second. A mischievous glint in his pretty blue eyes as his lips curl into a smile.

Shit.. focus.

"So do you. You always do." you blurt out and he chuckles deeply.

Ask him. Say something.

"Good to go." he pats your hood and throws the greasy towel over his shoulder.

"Wait.. Billy. I have something to ask you." you mutter nervously.

He looks at you with a knowing smirk. He's so cocky but it's fucking hot. He already knows I want him.

"You wanna take me on a date, pretty girl?" he winks at you and you can’t stop yourself from blushing.

"Not exactly. I have a boyfriend." you say quickly.

"Okay... so we have to be like.. sneaky?" he asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, no. Not exactly."

Billy steps closer to you and you look up into his blue eyes. His stare makes you even more nervous. He’s so close. You can smell his cologne mixed with Marlboro’s, a little musky scent from his sweat.

"You have my attention." he winks, looming over you.

Here we go.

*******

Billy stands there awkwardly as he lights a cigarette. "I've uh.. never done something like this before." he mumbles, shuffling his feet as he inhales deeply, smoke filling his lungs. You look over at Eddie who is simply smirking at Billy’s discomfort, arms folded casually across his chest.

"So you're just gonna like.. watch?" Billy asks as he exhales the smoke slowly through his nostrils.

Billy had wasted no time saying he would happily "fuck your brains out". But he wasn't keen on the idea of a threesome.

"Until you ask me to join." Eddie states calmly.

"I won't." Billy answers sternly.

"Okay, alright.” Eddie laughs lightly, throwing his hands up in mock surrender. "Then yeah.. I'll just watch."

"You guys are fucking kinky." Billy chuckles as he turns his attention back to you.

"You ready, doll?" He gives you a look that makes you throb.

"Yes." you whisper as you pull the string of your robe. You let it fall from your frame leaving you in your favorite lingerie.

You watch as both of them look you up and down. "You look good, baby." Eddie rasps.

Billy nods in agreement, keeping his eyes on you as he places his cigarette in the ashtray and makes his way closer.

His hand reaches out, fingertips trailing lightly down your arm before his heavy hand lands on your hip. Your breath quickens as he leans in.

"Billy?" you breathe as his lips get closer.

"Yes?"

"I want it rough." you whisper and he smirks as he reaches down and picks you up easily, tossing you roughly to the bed. Oh shit.

You watch as he takes off his shirt, his chiseled body now on display. As he slips out of his jeans, Eddie comes to kiss you. You hold him close, fingers threading in his curls as his tongue slips in your mouth just for a moment.

His lips move to whisper in your ear. "Mmm, I’m so ready to fuck you myself, baby. But I can’t wait to watch him split you open.”

You moan softly at his words and he kisses you one more time before hopping off the bed.

"She's all yours." he announces to Billy and then suddenly he's on top of you. His weight feels different. Heavier. His body is radiating heat as his arms rest on either side of your head. His blue eyes are piercing. He’s so fucking close.

"Hi." you breathe out staring up at him. His chain dangles in the space between you.

"Hi." he returns with a charming smile. He glances over at Eddie and you quickly grip his chin, bringing his face back to you. You grip the chain pulling him down and finally his lips are on yours.

Your arms immediately wrap around his neck pulling him close. His kiss is firm but gentle.

You slip your tongue in his mouth and moan at the taste of him. Your tongues swirl together wildly, both of you panting into the kiss. Your hips lift up, pressing against his groin, craving any friction at all on your already aching clit. I can feel him. He's big, like Eddie. I knew he would be.

He hums into the kiss as he feels you grinding against his cock, his hand begins to wander your body. He cups your breast, squeezing gently, pulling a needy moan from you.

You keep your hand around his neck as you continue exploring his mouth with your tongue. You don't want his lips to leave yours. He tastes so good. His lips are soft and smooth, his tongue dancing with yours making your stomach flutter. You weave your fingers through his sandy curls as he slips his hand under your lace bra to tease your nipple between his rough fingers.

His lips separate from yours leaving you panting as he moves to suck on your neck. He’s not being easy, his suction sure to leave behind a deep bruise, a nice memory for when he’s gone. His hand travels lower, slowly trailing across your stomach until he finally meets your warmth. A sound almost like a growl escapes Billy’s chest as he realizes you’re wearing crotchless panties.

"You're so fucking wet." he groans into your neck making you smile.

"Touch me, Billy. Please." you whine and he brings his face back to yours as he runs a single finger up and down your slit. Teasing you in the most delicious way.

"You want my fingers, baby? My mouth? Tell me." he burns as he slips a finger inside of you.

"Mmm.. yes. Both.. fuck." you moan as you keep your eyes on his.

He grins wickedly as he begins kissing down your body. His lips are soft and warm as he plants kisses across your breast and stomach.

He removes his finger and spreads your legs wide. You look down and watch carefully as his tongue dips inside of you.

"Ohh.. fuck." you whimper as he licks up your dripping slit.

You've wanted to see this for so long. Billy Hargrove buried between your thighs. Fuck, it's just like you imagined.

Your hips buck up and he presses them back down forcefully, holding you in place as he begins to devour you.

Eddie's POV

Holy shit. I slowly stroke my cock as I watch Billy Hargrove going down on my girl. I never thought I’d see this day come. She's so fucking hot. Her eyes trained on him. Her mouth parted beautifully.

Her cries and whimpers are enough to make me cum already but I want to wait.

I want to cum with her. Need to cum with her.

I watch as she grips his hair tightly, pressing him deeper into her pussy. I can hear the sounds of his tongue lapping. His lips sucking wildly. His low moans being swallowed by her perfect cunt.

I understand. She tastes so fucking sweet.

I spit on my hand and lean back as I continue the slow motion up and down. I’m so fucking hard. Precum leaking from my tip. My cock is aching. Begging for the sweet release. It’s the best kind of torture. She squeals loudly as Billy enters two thick fingers.

You're killing me, sweetheart.

I can tell by her sounds that she's close. Her legs are propped up on Billy's shoulders. I keep my eyes on her as they begin to tremble around his head.

There you go, baby. Cum for him.

It’s almost as if she can hear my thoughts, the tightness in her stomach breaking as she cries out his name, her body jerking wildly. I pick up speed, my hand moving quickly up and down my cock, the slick sounds of me fucking my own hand only add to the obscene noises coming from the two of them. I hear a guttural moan come from Billy’s chest as my pretty girl cums on his face and hand.

I want to taste her. Fuck.. I'll get my turn.

I slow down my hand trying to hold out on busting already. Not yet.

He's about to fuck her. And I can only imagine it's gonna be rough.

Reader’s POV

"Oh my god." you pant as Billy comes up from between your legs. The evidence of your orgasm clear all over his face.

"You're fucking sweet, you know that?" he rasps before kissing you passionately. You taste yourself all over his tongue as he moans into your mouth.

He reaches down, taking his thick cock in his fist, running his tip up and down your pussy before slapping it on your clit again and again. He gives you no time to recover from your first orgasm, lining himself up.

You gasp as you feel the delicious stretch. He takes his time, slowly gliding himself inside. Your legs beginning to tremble immediately.

"You're.. fuck you're big." you whimper. He was almost the same size as Eddie. Just a bit thicker with a little more length. Your mind started swirling with thoughts of both of them inside of you. He'll just need a little convincing.

You look over at Eddie who is watching you with lustful eyes. His hand slides up and down his cock as he gives his lip a small bite. He shoots you a little wink causing your pussy clenches around Billy’s dick. Fuck, he's so hot.

You feel his cock bottom out, he’s so fucking deep you can feel him in your stomach. He pulls almost all the way out and slams back into you bringing your attention back to him.

"Holy fuck!" you squeal and he just smirks down at you, loving the reaction you’re giving him.

"You said rough." he teases with a slick grin.

You nod, your eyes filling with tears as he begins to thrust in and out. Slowly picking up his pace. He rolls his hips into you, pressing down on your stomach, the sensation sending your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

"You feel so fucking good..." he moans as you lift your hips meeting his thrusts.

You reach down taking the sheets in between your fingers, gripping tightly as his long cock fills you again and again. Each thrust seems to somehow reach even deeper.

His hands move to grip the headboard above as he continues pumping in and out agonizingly slow. You look down seeing his cock slick with your cum.

“How’s that feel, baby?”

“So good, Billy.” you sigh blissfully, feeling cock drunk already and he’s barely even fucked you.

"You like my cock stretchin’ you out?" he groans deeply, rotating his hips, stretching your pussy even more.

“Mmm.. faster, Billy. Please.”

“Poor thing.” Billy tuts. “Want me to stop teasin’?”

“P-please.” you beg again, your voice nothing but a whisper.

"Fuck Billy!" You gasp as he begins to thrust into you mercilessly, giving you everything you wanted. You reach up, running your hands down his abs before gripping his waist tightly.

You dig your nails into him as he completely destroys you. The headboard slams against the wall again and again as he pounds your soaked pussy.

"You're so fucking hot.." he praises, kneeling on the bed. He swiftly tosses your leg over his shoulder. His strong hand comes to grip your throat as he leans down.

"Make me cum, Billy." you plead, nothing but a desperate mess for him.

"I'm gonna make you cum. You're gonna cum all over my cock, baby." he burns as his grip around your throat tightens even more.

Billy meets your eyes and runs his tongue across his teeth, a smile playing on his pretty lips.

"Ready?" he teases.

"Yes.." you whimper.

"You sure?" he grins as he slowly pulls out.

"Billy. Fuck. Me." you sass, your bitchy tone making him almost cum right there.

Then the breath is knocked from your lungs as he slams into you. This time he doesn't hold back at all. His grip is tight around your throat as he fucks you with everything in him.

Your head falls back and your mouth drops open silently as your eyes fall shut. Your breasts bouncing with every wild thrust.

You turn your head to the side as your eyelids flutter to watch as Eddie pumps his hand quickly up and down his cock.

He's gonna cum. I can see it on his face.

"You gonna cum for me, baby?" Billy grunts as he drives into you, your pussy leaking around his cock, the creamy mess from your last orgasm coating every inch of his cock.

You nod quickly, feeling your leg shake against his shoulder. His fat tip kissing your sweet spot every time he enters you. You feel your body aching for the sweet release.

"Harder.." you barely manage to get the word out.

"Fuck.." Billy breathes as he quickly pulls out, flipping you over effortlessly. He slams your face into the mattress and enters you from behind.

You feel the sting of his firm hand against your ass and you cry out in pleasure. Your eyes zero in on Eddie as your mouth falls open again, little hums escaping your lips as Billy destroys you from behind.

His hand smacks your ass again and you feel your climax coming fast. You struggle to focus your sight on Eddie. Your eyes fighting to stay open. You force them open just long enough to see Eddie mouth one word in your direction.

'Cum.'

Your body reacts to his demand, your cum flooding Billy's cock. He moans deeply as he feels your pussy clenching around him. He keeps thrusting as you ride out your high. His hands massaging and groping your ass. He's breathing heavily as he pulls out of you, making you feel empty. You peek at Eddie, seeing his hand covered in his own sticky cum.

"Holy shit." you breathe, sitting up and turning to Billy, seeing his cock still rock hard. You take him in your mouth and begin sucking. His head falls back as you suck him clean of your juices.

"I want both of you." you purr, looking up at him.

He watches you carefully as you take him back in your mouth, swirling your tongue slowly around his tip.

"I... fuck.." he moans.

"She's really good at getting what she wants isn't she?" Billy chuckles looking over at Eddie.

"You're telling me." Eddie smirks.

You take him deep in your throat and look up at him through your eyelashes, fluttering them perfectly.

"Shit.. yeah.. yeah okay." Billy grunts. "Both of us."

Fuck yes.

Part three coming soon 🖤

Tag list: @gri959 @flory-alexandra @livinnadaydream @anakinsbbgirl @watermeezer @theyellowhaunt @nailbatanddungeon @mugloversonly @bunnyhargrove @ali-r3n @eddiestans-blog @alesiaaa @floredaqueen @josephquinnsfreckles @stargrrrlsworld @lemme-slytherin-that-dick @neville-is-my-husband @nope-thanks @bangchansleftbuttcheekk @daydream-believer19

Divider by @strangergraphics 🖤

[chloe-petrichors]

cradling constellations // jace x reader

when rhaenyra brings her family to court to celebrate the king's fiftieth name day, there was but one thing on your mind: getting to see jace, the boy you'd loved in secret, once more.

whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same. —emily brontë

fandom; house of the dragon pairing; jacaerys velaryon x f!aunt!reader (no use of y/n) warnings; canon-typical incest, canon-au (it's viserys' birthday party baby), altered timeline (jace and reader are in their 20s) idiots in love, instant attraction/love at first (second) sight, childhood sweethearts (kinda?), soulmate vibes, love confessions, switching povs, smut (mdni !) including masturbation (m), p in v, fingering, oral (f receiving), implied loss of virginity, unprotected sex, mild marriage kink if that’s even a thing, body worship, dirty talk, praise kink, multiple orgasms, mild overstimulation, soft dom vibes, jace being a tits man. word count; 15k+ (oops) notes; me, obsessed with jace? more likely than u think. this whole fic spawned from the fact that i noticed jace's freckles on a gif and lost my gd mind. this was meant to be a quick smut fic. and then i took 11k+ words to get to the smut part. i'm sorry (i'm not). this is totally self-indulgent, soulmates, love at first sight kinda fluff-to-smut and i regret nothing. way too much time of writing this was me trawling through the asoiaf wiki pages to find details that are relevant for one whole sentence. why am i this way. valyrian is pulled straight from a translator i found online, pls let me know if you notice any errors! requests; are open !

the first time you laid eyes on jacaerys velaryon, you knew he was something special.

you had just been children, then, uncertain of each other due to the discontent between your families. but he had been kind to you, dark eyes warm, and it had been an easy thing to be kind in return. your brothers make it difficult, of course, as they seem to do with everything they get involved in. aegon had been the worst at first, spouting off the same vitriol your mother had always whispered into your ears, but aemond had not been far behind him.

after the events of laena’s funeral and the loss of aemond’s eye, the hostilities only grow and grow. helaena keeps herself apart from most of it by virtue of her typically distant manner, but your brothers insist on drawing you into the same arguments again and again. it's tedious, laborious, but they are your family.

jace and luke are too, of course, not that anyone else seems to want to admit it. for all that they are velaryon’s by name (and strong in heart, mayhaps, yes), they are your nephews. your brothers only seem interested in remembering this when it serves them, however — which is usually when they’re lording it over the dark-haired boys.

in truth, the velaryon’s are hardly innocent either. it seems like the two sets of boys bring out the absolute worse in each other without fail, and it’s usually left to you to try and be the voice of reason.

away from your brothers’ taunts, jace is like a different boy entirely. endlessly curious and ceaselessly kind, the brunette seems to always have time to talk and jape with you. your friendship grows surprisingly easy as children, and with early adulthood comes the bloom of a different kind of affection, too. you never say anything, knowing all too well that if your brothers catch even a whisper of your feelings that there will be no end of hells to pay.

it matters little, regardless. your mother will never tolerate a betrothal between the two of you and you know better than to even attempt to broach such a topic. it had been sheer miracle that she hadn’t tried marrying you off to aemond after securing aegon and helaena’s marriage, and you aren’t willing to tempt fate by giving her ideas now. so what if you spend countless nights dreaming of freckled skin and dark hair? it matters not in the scheme of things.

rhaenyra flees kings landing after daemon’s return to westeros, leaving you feeling strangely bereft without your nephews’ company. years go by with no contact from your sister’s family, and so you let your old daydreams fall to the wayside. there’s no use dwelling on what you can’t have, and no point bringing it up since even now just a mention of luke or jace is enough to inflame aemond’s temper.

and then, of course, the news comes that rhaenyra is returning to court for the king’s fiftieth name day. there are great feasts and celebrations planned in honour of your father, which you privately think silly considering it’s unlikely he would be well enough to attend half the festivities. still, there’s no denying your excitement at the idea of seeing jace again. he would be a man grown, now, his twentieth name day having passed only a few moons ago.

for once the majority of your family will be under one roof, and you are certain it will end in disaster — but you intend to enjoy it while you can.

going flying the morning of the velaryons arrival is perhaps not your smartest idea. 

your nerves wake you well before dawn. you feel as if you’re going to crawl out of your skin if you don’t do something, and you know your chances for flying will be limited with the celebrations expected to start tomorrow. so you decided to take the chance while you can, dressing quickly in your riding gear before creeping to the dragon pit well before any of your family wake.

silverwing likes it when you take her for unexpected flights, so she makes no complaint when you have the dragon keepers release her. you go through the motions of saddling her yourself, as you always do, taking the chance to reinforce the bond with your dragon.

silverwing hadn’t been your hatched dragon. the egg that you had slept beside as a babe had never hatched, just as aemond’s and helaena’s hadn’t. it had infuriated aemond when you were children, that jace and luke’s dragons hatched while he was left without. it had made him an easy target for the other boys; aegon had often led the others in riling him about his lack of dragon until he had claimed vhagar. you can admit now that the others had oft been cruel to him in their japing, and it had ended poorly for everyone involved.

your claiming of silverwing had been incredibly boring in comparison. she had found you, in truth, a year after aemond claimed vhagar. she’d been your great-grandmother the good queen alysanne’s dragon before your own, and had not taken a rider since the queen’s death. she’d flown from the dragonmont to find you, and you’ve been nigh on inseparable since. your mother despairs over it, hating how her often her ‘perfect daughter’ has shown up to court late with windswept hair and flushed cheeks.

but, to you, flying is freedom.

there’s nothing else like it in the world; the sensation of silverwing beneath you, the seven kingdoms at your fingertips, and only the sky above. your mother has never really let go of her fear of the dragons, and you can understand it in a way; she is no targaryen, and she’ll never know what it is to bond with a dragon, to have that presence so alien and yet so familiar nudging against the corners of your mind. any attempts to explain it to her are met with bemusement and wariness, and you’d long ago learned to stop bringing it up.

silverwing’s joy to fly merges into your own as you climb atop her, running a soothing hand over the gleaming silver spikes at her neck as you adjust the straps. her impatience thrums loudly through the bond as you settle yourself into the saddle, and you feel her heart beat through you like a second pulse as your own anticipation rises.

“ivestragī īlva sōvegon, ñuha raqiros! [let us fly, my friend!]”

she needs no further nudging than that, and with a delighted roar she launches into the air. your laughter is stolen by the wind as she beats her wings, propelling you higher and higher before sweeping over the towering peaks of the red keep. with a shouted instruction she banks sharply to the left, flying out over blackwater bay as the sun finally crests the horizon. the dark sea lights up with reds and golds beneath you, the sky gloriously blue above, and silverwing’s distinctive scales shine in the breaking dawn.

a glorious morning, you think, and as the two of you climb higher to the sky you feel all your nerves and excitement for anything but the flight leave you. this is what your mother will never understand; flying is an escape, yes, but not from your duties as she assumes it is. this is an escape from your worries, from the petty machinations of court. in the sky with your dragon, you need worry only about how chill the wind will be, or if aemond is out with vhagar, who’s a grumpy old beast at the best of times and silverwing is feeling mischievous.

you find peace, here, in the sky. this is what you were born for.

long minutes pass as you fly leisurely, circling over the bay and the keep and back again in ever widening circles. sometimes silverwing dives just to do so, plunging so close to the blackwater that you could reach out and skim your hand over the dark depths. you lose track of time as the two of you fly, contentment bleeding across the bond so completely you can’t even tell which one of you it’s coming from.

a dragon’s cry in the distance catches your attention, and silverwing pulls up from where she’d been ducking her head into the water to snatch fish. she propels you rapidly higher into the air, crying out in response as you break through the thin cloud cover. you expect to find aegon’s dragon; sunfyre is the only dragon silverwing likes, rather than tolerates, to be making such a noise in greeting.

but it’s an unfamiliar dragon that greets you, olive green scales shining with the damp from the high altitudes. your mind races as you struggle to place it, and it’s only when you catch sight of a head of dark curls astride the dragon that you realise who it is.

vermax.

and jacaerys.

your heart skips in your chest, silverwing’s unexpected excitement tangling with your own nerves as she swoops towards the much smaller dragon. it’s only her sheer happiness that stops you from panicking or shouting a command to halt in valyrian, and moments later you recall she’d have known vermax from her time on dragonstone.

she somersaults over and around vermax playfully, and you release an exhilarated laugh in response as you cling tightly to the saddle. you see only snatches of jace as your dragons fly complicated patterns around each other, but the quick flashes you do get find an easy smile on his face.

the dragons spend a long while flying together, racing and diving and spiralling to new heights. they move so quickly that you have no chance to try and greet jacaerys, can offer nothing more than quick smiles as you pass him. it gives you the time for your nerves to settle back down, time to reassure yourself that any childhood feelings are long faded and that you will be able to act perfectly composed when it is time to greet him.

eventually you realise your dragon is not going to land until you tell her too, and vermax is clearly just as willing to chase after the larger she-dragon for as long as she is willing to be chased.

“māzigon, silverwing. istiti tegun [come, silverwing. we must land],” you shout, laughing again when the dragon whines her displeasure. she listens regardless, soaring down in tightening circles with vermax following close on your tail. her landing in the dragon pit is far from smooth, but you’re well used to compensating for the jostling as she settles onto the ground once more.

you’re quick in freeing yourself from the saddle, murmuring warm thanks and praise to your dragon as you walk to the side of her great head to meet a single burning eye. “kirimvose, ñuha raqiros. kesi sōvegon arlī aderī [thank you, my friend. we will fly again soon],” you tell her, and she responds with a content grumble as she nudges her head gently against your chest in affection.

you leave the dragon keepers to return her to her cave, instead turning to watch as jace shares his own goodbyes with his dragon. you take the chance to look at him, properly look, and find yourself suddenly warring with self-consciousness and a burning in your chest.

despite the acrobatics of the dragons, he looks perfectly put together with his dark curls brushing his shoulders and a pleasing tan to his skin. you fear you must look a ruin, with your hair undoubtedly a mess and cheeks flushed from the cold bite of the wind. your breath is still a touch laboured from the exertion of the flight, while he looks perfectly composed in his fancy black and red doublet. you curse the old gods and the new that you’d picked out your old riding gear this morning — comfortable, yes, but certainly not ideal for greeting the heir to the heir and the man you’d once daydreamed about marrying.

you push the thoughts away with determined stubbornness, refusing to dwell on the warmth in your chest when jace finally turns to look at you. he’s grown, you note immediately, now standing at least a head taller than you. any traces of baby fat have left him, leaving behind a strong, square jaw and strong yet slim shoulders. his dark eyes are warm, though, and his smile friendly as he takes you in.

you dip instinctually into a curtsey, a perfectly respectable greeting ready on your lips, but you’re startled into straightening back to standing when jace laughs.

“come now, princess,” he says, fond and teasing he approaches you. he’s the only one who’s ever been able to make the title sound more like an endearment. “since when have we been ones for formality?”

it sets you at ease immediately, tension relaxing from your shoulders as you beam at him. “i suppose we never have been very good at that, have we?” you let your eyes skip over him again, something like relief settling in your bones at the sight of him. “it’s good to see you again, jace.”

“aye,” he returns, dark eyes sparkling. “it is good to see you, indeed.”

for a long moment he simply looks at you, and it makes that peculiar warmth in your chest blaze a little brighter. there’s something in his face that you’ve never seen there before — but then you think of course there is. you haven’t seen him in so long there’s probably all kinds of things about you him you no longer know. it aches, almost, to think it, but in a way he’s a stranger to you; a man with the kind eyes of the boy you’d loved in secret, once.

you clear your throat as you drop your eyes from his stare, glancing at the bustling keepers as they tend to your dragons instead as you cast about for something to say.

“are the rest of your family not flying in?” you query after a moment.

he shakes his head, dark curls swaying with the movement. “no, arrax and tyraxes are still too small to fly luke and joff for such a journey, and mother would rather stay with my brothers on the ship.”

you nod in acceptance, shifting slightly on the spot. “well then, let me be the first to welcome you back to king’s landing, my prince.” you take the formality out of your tone with a playful wink, and are gratified to see the way he chuckles at your antics.

“i had hoped you’d be the first i’d see.” he admits this casually, as if this doesn’t set your heart and mind racing. “i have missed you, aunt.”

you duck your head again to try and hide the smile spreading across your face. you tell yourself sternly to stop acting like some lovesick child, all the while that small flame continues to burn away inside of you. “and i you, nephew.” you glance up at him shyly from beneath your lashes, teeth worrying at your bottom lip, and you don’t miss the way his eyes track the movement.

he’s the one to clear his throat, this time, stepping a half-pace away from you and gesturing for you to proceed him. “shall we head to the keep, then? my mother’s ship should have arrived by now and we wouldn’t want to miss the formal welcome.”

“as you say,” you agree, and the two of you set off.

you spend the long walk to the keep catching up on the long years between you. you’d expected the time apart to be like a gulf between you, a canyon that could not be crossed, but if anything it’s the opposite. it’s as if you’d last seen each other only hours ago. it should startle you, how simple it feels to fall into your old friendship, but you don’t have it in you to be surprised. that’s always been the thing with jace, after all — it’s easy. being around him, speaking to him, listening to his odd tangents. it all comes as natural to you as breathing, as if there’s a part of you that was just born knowing him.

he's dodging your questions as you finally arrive at the keep, having let slip something about an old secret from the days of your childhood that he’s never shared with you. it makes something flutter in your chest, the way he looks at you as he says it. the way he’s looked at you the whole time, in fact, has you having to bite back a smile. he looks at you as if he is looking at something precious, expression tender and fond and uncomplicated. it threatens to steal your breath again, and so you make an effort to try and act as unaffected as possible, because he cannot mean it in the way you think you might want him too.

“oh, but you simply must tell me!” you wheedle cheerfully, a mischievous smile on your lips. “you wouldn’t keep a secret from me, would you, my prince?”

you pout at him, fluttering your lashes in the way you usually do when trying to get your way with your brothers. jace swallows audibly at the sight, some emotion you can’t read flickering across his eyes as his gaze drops to your mouth and then lower again before returning to your eyes. something in his expression makes you flush, cheeks burning as your lips part slowly. a heat rises in you, unbidden, as he steps ever so slightly closer into your space. you’re overwhelmed with the smell of him; sea salt and dragon smoke and something almost woodsy underneath it, something entirely jace.

he murmurs your name so quietly you almost miss it over the sounds of courtyard. his hand twitches as if to reach for you as he ducks his head slightly, and you think if you lifted yours just so you’d be able to brush your lips over the strong line of his jaw. you realise suddenly how much you want to — how much you want to drag your tongue over his skin and taste.

oh.

oh.

you want him. that peculiar feeling that had been burning in your chest — you recognise the desire for what it is, now. the easy camaraderie that you’d fell into on the walk to the keep subsides in the wake of it, and abruptly all you can think of is what his mouth will feel like on your own. the palpable tension between you makes your hands tremble with the urge to touch, heart pounding so loudly in your ears it drowns out anything that isn’t him as the rest of the courtyard fades away.

you sway the barest inch closer, inhaling his scent deeply, and watch as jace’s nostrils flare in response. with a shaky breath you lift your chin, eyes dropping to his parted lips, and you bite your bottom lip as his tongue sweeps over his own.

“jace…”

“brother! there you are!”

luke’s voice startles you both back to reality as you spring apart. you hadn’t realised just how close you’d gotten, your chests almost brushing with every breath, until the gap between you widens. you drop your eyes to your feet, cheeks blazing with embarrassment as you realise how close you’d come to kissing him in an extremely public place. you chide yourself internally for forgetting yourself, and take another second to gather your composure before lifting your head with a smile.

“hello, nephew,” you greet luke warmly, doing your best to ignore the way jace’s eyes burns into the side of your face. “it is very good to see you again.”

“aunt!” luke fairly cheers, and you note how the youth still clings to his face. while certainly older than the last time you’d seen him, he still seems like a child to you. his limbs are long and gangly, in that awkward stage at the cusp of adulthood where he’s not quite grown into himself yet. he bounds closer, drawing you into a hug that you allow and return with a fond laugh.

“luke, honestly,” jace tuts, shaking his head as the two of you separate. “we’re at court, now. at least try to remember your manners.”

the younger boy winces. “ah, right, yes.” he sketches a quick but perfect bow your way. “it is a great honour to see you once more, princess.” he flashes a cheeky smile and a wink your way as he straightens out, and you press your hand to your mouth to smother a giggle at the exasperated look on jace’s face at his brother’s antics. he’s hardly one to talk, you think, considering how quickly he had dispensed with manners when greeting you.

in return, you dip into a practiced if impish curtsey. “it is a sincere pleasure to see you as well, prince lucerys.”

luke does giggle, then, as jace rolls his eyes so hard you think they’re at risk of falling out of his head. despite his dramatics, you spot the smile twitching at the corner of his mouth as he watches you jape with his brother.

“the queen is looking for you, dear aunt,” luke says after the greetings are done, and your amusement flees you as your stomach drops.

it’s only then you realise that with both luke and jace being here, you’ve certainly missed the official welcome of princess rhaenyra back to court. you wince at the thought of your mother’s ire, resigning yourself to a long lecture about your responsibilities and how dragon riding is ‘not one of them’. jace catches your expression, concern creasing his face as his brows furrow.

“alright?” he checks, and you do your best to offer him a reassuring smile.

“yes, i’m sure all will be well.” you hesitate a moment before offering a one-shouldered shrug, ignoring the voice in your head that sounds far too much like your mother telling you how unladylike such a motion is. “i expect my mother will be displeased with me for missing the official welcome, but the festivities will surely distract her quick enough.”

luke and jace both offer you a commiserating smile as the three of you head into the keep. you expect your mother will be waiting in her solar, which is on a close route to the guest suites set aside for the visiting royals, and so you walk with the velaryons as far as you can. when it comes time to part, jace lingers at the entry of the hall as luke continues down the corridor. his dark eyes are fixed to yours so intensely it steals your breath as you slow to a stop as well.

“i’ll see you at the feast,” he says quietly, capturing your hand in his much larger one and bringing it to his mouth. your breath hitches in your chest, eyes widening as he brushes his lips tenderly over your knuckles. your lips part in surprise, tingles racing up your arm from where his mouth makes contact with your skin. before you have chance to respond, jace dips into a sweeping bow and then bids you farewell, leaving you staring after him for a long moment.

well. if your mother doesn’t kill you, you think jace certainly will.

jace sinks into the hot water of the bath with a deep sigh of relief.

after meeting with his mother to explain why he’d been late to the formal greetings — or, rather, offer excuses as to why he’d been late, since he doesn’t think his mother will take well to the idea he was so busy enjoying himself flying with you that the thought of any formal welcome party left his mind entirely — he’d sought his chambers. the bath had been ready and waiting for him, tendrils of steam wafting from the clear water, and he’d wasted no time in shedding his clothes. he’s keen to wash the dragon stink from his skin before the feast, and he makes quick work of scrubbing his skin clean. when he’s done, he allows himself to relax against the metal of the tub, arms draped carelessly over the metal rim as he soaks.

king’s landing from dragonstone is not too long a journey on dragon back, but flying for such a stretch causes its own particular aches. vermax had enjoyed the chance to stretch his wings, at least, and had enjoyed the playful flight with silverwing even more.

he can admit to himself he’d enjoyed it, too, the sight of you astride your dragon lighting something within him. it’s been so long since he’d seen you, not since the aftermath of laena’s funeral, and he hadn’t been prepared for how the sight of you — breathless and flush and beaming at him — would make him feel. he’d almost managed to push back his boyhood adoration and childhood daydreams of marrying you one day with the years passing, but seeing you again brings it all rushing back and he feels as hopelessly enamoured with you now as he did as a child.

you’ve grown well, there’s no denying that. where childhood had left you sometimes awkward and gangly, you’ve become a woman grown now with all the curves and delights that come with it. he’d been embarrassed at how hard it had been to pull his gaze from you on the trip to the keep, but you’d not seemed to notice. too occupied with filling the air between you with light chatter, you’d been oblivious to the way his eyes had dragged over your form again and again.

you just — you’re so unlike anyone else he knows. he’d let himself forget how lovely you were, but there was no way to ignore it now. riding the high of your flight and genuinely happy to see him, you’d been like something out of a dream. your face had been as open to him as ever, plainly delighted to see him, and seeing you had eased some ache he’d become so used to he’d not even know it was there until he felt the lack of it.

he’s not some foolish child. he knows better than to think of things like love when his head must lie with his duty. but the thought remains regardless, lingering in the back of his mind that you would be as easy to love now as you had been when you were younger. it had been a childish love then, of course; innocent and sweet in the ways only children could be. but it had been there, unspoken and unacted upon, but no less real for it.

you’re not children anymore. it would be impossible to think otherwise with the way your riding gear had clung flatteringly to your chest and hips. your mouth looked so pretty stretched into a smile, a smile for him, and he thinks it’s a testament to his restraint that he’d not kissed you on the spot when you’d pouted so prettily up at him. he’d thought for a fleeting moment that perhaps you were going to kiss him with the way your eyes had darkened, how you’d gravitated into his space as if without intention.

heat pools in his stomach as he thinks about how the neckline of your riding dress had cut low enough to allow him a peak at your chest, heaving as you struggled to catch your breath. he wonders what your mouth would taste like, what noises you would make if he’d slid his tongue against your own. gods, he feels like a green boy seeing a woman for the first time — almost undone at just the thought of you. he won’t be able to get through the welcome feast like this, he thinks, so on edge with his lust for you burning him from the inside out.

it’s not even a conscious choice to curl his fingers around his cock, half-hard already as he thinks of you. jace’s head tips back against the rim of the bath, eyes drifting closed as a quiet gasp escapes him. the warm water eases his way as he strokes himself, and he lets himself imagine it’s your slick, instead.

he pictures you before him, pretends it’s your hand teasing at the skin at the head of his cock. your hands are so small, so dainty, he thinks you probably wouldn’t be able to wrap them all the way around him. he imagines they’re a little calloused — soft, mostly, but with the fingertips just rough enough from years spent riding and caring for your dragon. they’d drag so deliciously against his skin, and you’d take to the task with the same voracious enthusiasm you do with everything else. you’d watch him closely, pick up on the cues of his pleasure, and he’d unravel for you so quickly it’d be embarrassing if it was anyone else.

“fuck,” he hisses out, thumb dragging over the liquid leaking copiously from his tip. his head tips back even further, water dripping from his curls onto the stone floor as he chases his release. his imagining splinters into disconnected fantasies; you, on your knees with your mouth stretched around him, lashes damp with reflexive tears as your eyes fix on his. you, sprawled beneath him and writhing as he feasts on your cunt like a man starved. you, babbling in high valyrian as he sinks into the tight wet heat of you. you, clenching and shuddering around his cock as you come for him, blazing and beautiful. you, you, you.

his release hits him hard, a low groan tearing from his throat as his hips thrust up into his hand as he drags out those last few moments of pleasure. his panting breaths sound loud in the silence of his chambers, and jace is suddenly acutely aware of the fact that he is alone. there is, of course, no trace of you.

he knows in that moment he has to have you. he cannot tolerate the thought of anyone else — not for himself, and certainly not for you. he wants you as his wife, his queen, the mother of his children. jace doesn’t care how he must do it — as long as you’re as willing as he is, he is going to make you his.

the feast has started by the time jace arrives.

his indulgence had cost him time, and then he’d spent longer than usual readying himself while trying to ignore the fact he was doing so only to impress you. by the time he makes it to the hall his family are already seated and the minstrels are playing a jaunty tune. his eyes seek you instantly, and he resists the urge to frown in disappointment as he sees you sat between helaena and aemond. he’d hoped to sit beside you and use this time to see if there was any hint of you returning his feelings. no matter — there would be time enough later. if he has his way, there’ll be all the time in the world.

you look beautiful, he notes. you’re dressed in your usual deep green, the gown cut flatteringly for your shape. your face is animated and happy as you chat to aemond, and though he finds the idea of anyone enjoying that grumpy prick’s presence bizarre, he enjoys the sight of you so at ease.  

as he approaches the head table and the empty seat between his mother and luke, your eyes linger on him. he’s gratified by the way you light up when you spot him, offering him a warm smile in welcome for all that you’re quickly entangled into a conversation with your sister. it eases some of the sting at finding you unavailable, and he’s helpless but to smile back at you even when your gaze slides back to helaena.

luke eyes him strangely as he settles into his seat but says nothing as jace reaches for a goblet of wine. his mother greets him absently, entangled as she is in conversation with the king, and he takes the moment to glance out at the hall.

it’s a relatively small feast. large enough to not cause offence to the heir to the throne, but not so grand as to detract from the festivities planned for the next fortnight. he recognises a few faces in the crowd, people from different houses from across the kingdoms. the king’s birthday celebrations are no small affair, and he spots representatives from all the great houses as well as some of the more minor ones.

it makes him want to slump in his seat, for all that he keeps his posture straight. he knows the next few weeks will be full of politicking and double speak, and it grates. as the heir to the heir, jace knows it’s partially his responsibility to ensure their alliances still stand while seeking out any news one that might present themselves. he has no doubt that some of the lords in this crowd will have brought their daughters, planning to parade them in front of him and his brothers in hopes they might pick one as their betrothed.

his lack of betrothal has been a point of contention for many of the court, he knows. most had assumed he would be betrothed to his stepsister baela, and he’d thought the same for years. it was only when his mother had confided that baela had no interest in being queen and, in fact, was so strongly opposed to the idea that she swore to fly to essos and never be seen again if they tried marrying her to him that he realised just why such a betrothal had never been announced.

it had left him free, in a way, to pursue his own desires; without a betrothal attached to him he’d shed any guilt about seeking company at the pleasure houses. but, in turn, it had left him open to the machinations of the other houses who all sought to have their blood on the iron throne. it’s incredibly tedious, but he knows he must grin and bear it for the sake of his mother and his house.

the food arrives then, and he busies himself with the meal and talking to his siblings. his grandsire makes a speech welcoming his daughter and her family home, and jace notes the sour faces of alicent’s sons. they keep their tongues, at least, which shows a maturity from them he truthfully hadn’t expected. perhaps they’ve grown just as you have, he thinks, but dismisses the thought when aemond catches his eye and only sneers in response to jace’s tentative smile.

he's often wondered at the conflict between the two sides of the family. the animosity now he can pinpoint, of course; aemond losing his eye. but there had been years before that of tense, standoffish behaviour interspersed with camaraderie when everyone seemed to forget they weren’t meant to be friends. he remembers playing pranks with aegon while luke trailed after them, and he remembers sitting with helaena while she perused the dirt for bugs.

he remembers you, most of all. kind and fearless and smart, you’d enamoured him from the moment he was old enough to recognise girls were different to boys in interesting ways. even before then you’d been fast friends, something in your similarly mischievous behaviour drawing you into each other’s orbit. he’s always been drawn to you, he thinks, to the uncomplicated joy you took in your life. there was so much to be miserable about, so much duty on all your shoulders, but you always found something to smile over. your unfailing optimism would no doubt be irritating to some, but to him it has always been one of his favourite things about you.

his gaze, predictably, shifts to you. he startles to find you looking at him already. you flush immediately as your eyes lock, presumably embarrassed at being caught, and he enjoys the colour it brings to your cheeks. you don’t drop his stare, though, not until helaena says something to draw your attention back to her once again. he catches sight of a private little quirk of your lips as your head turns, and something like satisfaction settles in his chest as he hides his own smile in his goblet.

perhaps this feast won’t be as tedious as he’d feared.

“are you enjoying the festivities, princess?”

jace’s voice pulls you from where you’ve been staring into your wine as if it holds all the secrets of the world. you’ve lost count of how many goblets you’ve had, chattering away with your siblings before aegon had started to become cruel in his inebriation and you’d all opted to split apart through the hall. you glance up to find the velaryon prince standing before you, hands perched loosely on the hilt of his sword. he looks unfairly handsome, you think, with his tumble of curls and well-fitted doublet, and something about the slight smirk on his face makes you think he knows it.

“i am enjoying them well enough,” you allow, flicking your gaze from his to look out at the dance floor. aemond is dancing with helaena, aegon far too deep into his cups to bother thinking of his wife. your mother is as tense as she has been since you’d found her earlier; her stepdaughter’s arrival to court has set her incredibly on edge, and the lecture she’d given you earlier had certainly been one of her worst. and your father is oblivious to it all, simply too pleased at the presence of his favoured daughter to care about the way the rest of his family are fracturing apart.

he's not been a good father to you, the king. he’s called you and helaena rhaenyra more than once over the years, and even when his eyes are you on you, you never feel like it’s you he sees. your mother had tried to soothe the ache of his absence, of his blatant favour for a woman who was not here, but as the years stretched on even she had seemed to fade further and further away from you all. for so long it’s just been the four of you, clinging to each other and tearing each other apart in equal measure. you’ve oft thought that daeron is the luckiest of you, able to thrive at the hightower and away from the mess of your family.

you pause at the maudlin turn of your thoughts, peering contemplatively into your wine again before offering jace a slightly sheepish smile. “i… fear i may have indulged in too much wine,” you admit, startling a laugh from the darkhaired prince.

it’s aegon’s fault, you decide; before he’d gotten belligerently drunk he’d been so cheerful, seemingly pleased to have the pressure of being the eldest targaryen child in court off of his shoulders. in his cheer he had plied you with wine, laughing and japing with an arm over your shoulder as you reminisced on simpler times of your childhood. happy to see him so, you’d not resisted, but now you find yourself regretting those choices as your thoughts tumble sluggishly through your mind.

jace shakes his head fondly at you, reaching out to carefully steal your goblet away. his fingers brush against yours as he does so, the barest of touches and yet enough to set your heart racing as you blink slowly up at him. he sips from your wine deliberately, amber eyes darkening as he holds your stare, and your lips part with an unsteady breath. something about him drinking your wine from your cup has your stomach fluttering pleasantly.

gods, i want him.

the thought is enough to startle you, heat suffusing your cheeks as you avert your gaze. jace doesn’t, though, and you can feel the weight of his stare on you like a tangible thing. it makes your skin prickle with warmth, and you lurch a touch unsteadily to your feet before you can say anything silly like ‘kiss me, please’.

“i think i should retire to my chambers before i make a drunken fool of myself,” you announce, fingers smoothing over the green velvet of your dress.

“i’ll escort you,” jace returns, tone leaving no room for argument.

he sets aside the wine and offers you his arm, quirking an eyebrow as if in challenge. you hesitate for barely a second, taking a steadying breath, before looping your arm through his and allowing him to lead you through the crowd towards the open doors. the woodsy smell of him you’d noticed before is clearer, now, and you take another deep breath of the scent. it calms your nerves and yet inflames your desire, and your fingers tighten infinitesimally against his bicep.

you stop at the doors of the feasting chamber for long enough to let ser erryk know that you’re retiring for the evening, leaving it to him to pass the message on to your mother, and then you and jace are alone in the halls of the keep.

of course, you’re not truly alone. guards litter the corridors and even at this late hour servants bustle along, busy with their chores. but in the quiet of the keep as jace leads you to your rooms, you can almost imagine yourself alone with him. the thought threatens to overwhelm you, mad fantasies of him tugging you into a dark alcove to devour you flashing through your mind, and you scold yourself internally.

you’re really very cross with aegon. he and his wine have left you in this state, too far into your cups to keep control of your dangerous wonderings. if only he had not kept calling for more of that gods-be-damned arbor gold, you’d have been able to keep your wits about you. you’d wanted to dance at the feast, too, mayhaps even with jacaerys but at the very least with your brothers. instead, you’re being led back to your rooms like a child who’s had their first taste of wine with dinner and let it go to their head.

jace’s presence helps your intoxication little. seeing him again, touching him, smelling him — it’s all too much when all your defences are down like this. you feel like a girl again, staring breathlessly after him and so full of certainty that you love him, and it’s just— ridiculous. you’ve spent mere hours in his presence and you’re like some lovelorn idiot with no thought in your mind beyond being as close to him as is possible. it’s foolish, reckless, absurd. but it’s there, regardless, unfurling in your chest with a lovely kind of agony.

you keep quiet on the walk, too afraid that if you open your mouth you’ll beg him to have his way with you or, worse, confess your re-blooming infatuation for him, and jace seems content enough to walk in silence for a while. eventually, though, he speaks.

“i don’t think i’ve ever seen you drunk before,” he observes, tone light.

you glance at him sidelong, pursing your lips at the teasing smirk curling on his mouth. “it’s aegon’s doing,” you tell him solemnly. “my brother is something of an expert on the subject of wines, and his tolerance is… much higher than mine own.”

jace snorts. “aye, i had noticed.”

you lapse into silence, again, only now you find yourself stealing glances at him. he really is very pretty, you think, though in quite a masculine way. something about the sharp line of his jaw and the curl of his eyelashes keeps drawing your attention, and you suspect you are not being subtle with your admiration in your inebriated state. as you walk by an open window moonlight floods into the hall, sending jace’s profile into sharp relief, and your eyes catch on the smattering of freckles on his smooth skin. something about the pattern makes you think of the stars, and you realise too late that your quick glances have turned to a lingering stare.

“is there something on my face, princess?”

jace’s mockingly innocent words draw your eyes to his. he’s smirking down at you, eyes dancing with amusement, and your cheeks flush. gods, you don’t think you’ve blushed so much in moons compared to the mere hours you’ve spent in his company. the things this man is doing to you — it is unconscionable. you don’t know how much more of this you can take before your resolve breaks.

“i apologise, my prince,” your respond after a beat, teeth biting at your lip. “i did not mean to… i was leagues away.”

his eyes darken, mischief fleeing them in favour of flickers of something else as they linger on your mouth, and that damnable heat in your stomach blazes. you want desperately to surge forward and kiss him, or for him to take you in his hands and kiss you. you just want, and ache, and burn. and it’s too much, far too much for your wine-addled brain to process, but you know if anyone was to happen upon you in this corridor, starting at him with your mouth parted and your breaths shuddering through your lungs, there will be consequences.

“we should— we are almost at my chambers.” your words are stumbling, loud in the sudden quiet that had descended over the pair of you, and jace startles a little, eyes darting away from yours as your stomach plummets. gods, what are you doing? staring at him in such a way? he must think you a simple-minded fool, gaping at him for the sake of a few freckles. you step away from him, rubbing your arm as you turn your eyes to stare intently at your feet instead. “i can make it the rest of the way from here. you should return to the feast.”

jace is quiet for a long moment and you peek up at him to see him watching you with an indecipherable expression for a charged breath before nodding slowly and taking a step away.

“as you wish,” he murmurs, ducking his head in a simple bow. “sweet dreams, princess.”

you stutter out your own farewell, half-convinced you’ll be dreaming of nothing but his hands and his mouth this night, before turning and all but fleeing down the hall.

oh, yes. jacaerys is certainly going to be the death of you.

jace spends the next few days at court so entangled in his responsibilities he feels he barely sets eyes upon you.

he and his mother are roped into starting the celebrations in the absence of the king himself. his grandsire’s health is failing, of that there is no doubt, and after enjoying himself a touch too heartily at the welcome feast he requires a few days to recover. he thinks perhaps that’s why these festivities are so important; it’s unlikely the king will make it to his five and fiftieth name day, and almost certainly not his sixtieth. it leaves him with… complicated feelings.

when his grandsire dies, he will no longer be the heir to the heir, but the heir to the iron throne itself. it’s a daunting thought; for all that his mother has seen him well prepared to sit his throne one day, it feels such an impossible task. he doesn’t understand how he’s ever supposed to be ready for such a thing.

the thought rises, unbidden, that it would be easier with you by his side. with your kind heart but sharp mind, you’d make a fine queen. he finds himself daydreaming of it still and scolding himself all the while for acting the green boy, and yet unable to stop. it’s as if his every thought leads back to you in some way or another — he sees a flower and wonders if you’d like the smell of it, or sees a dress and thinks of how much lovelier it would look on you. at night he indulges in more sensual wonderings, and he swears he’s not felt the urge to touch himself so much since he was a boy of five and ten just starting to discover the pleasures the touch of another can bring.

for all that you’d appeared to reject him the night of the welcome feast, he finds himself certain you desire him just as he does you. in fact, he fancies it’s that very desire that had led to you fleeing his company and avoiding him in the days after.

because you are avoiding him.

yes, he is busy with the festivities and you are perhaps equally so. but he does not think it’s busyness that drives you to seek conversation with absolutely anyone else when he looks for your company, and it is not busyness that has you clinging to aemond’s side so fiercely either. you know he won’t approach you when you’re with your brother, knowing how it hurts you to see them trade barbs and knowing himself well enough to know he will not be able to bite back his rancour if aemond says a word about his father.

jace is not an idiot. he knows what people say about him, the words they barely bother to whisper behind their hands about who his true sire is. he has complicated feelings about that, too, but it all boils down to one simple thing: he is his mother’s son. she is heir to the king, and he is her heir. for him, that’s all that can matter.

he knows it’s all that matters to you, too. for all that your brothers had spit bastard at him for as long as he can remember, you’ve never done so. you’ve never looked at him differently for the rumours of his birth, and it’s just one thing among many he treasures about you.

perhaps it’s foolish, to cling to these childhood feelings so tightly, but he cannot let the idea of the two of you together go. he knows luke has noticed how he stares after you in longing, since his brother has never been shy about teasing him relentlessly. he thinks his mother has noticed, too, from the few carefully inane comments she’s made about betrothals and duty. 

he supposes an argument could be made for the fact that with the years without contact between you, he doesn’t really know you anymore, not as he once did, but he doesn’t feel it matters. he can learn anything new about you and will in fact do so joyfully, but the important things? the things that speak to who you are at your core? jace has always known those, has always felt connected to you in a way he never has with another, and he loves you now just as he did as a boy. 

it would be easier in a way if he felt sure you didn’t reciprocate his feelings. at least then he could try and move on from them, put to bed his endless wonderings of you. but for as often as he turns his head to look at you, he finds you looking away from your own watching of him. the few, brief interactions he has with you over the next few days feel loaded, the desire and affection between you a palpable thing, and he’s tiring of pretending there’s nothing there anymore.

he’s tired of pretending he doesn’t miss you.

so, at the halfway point of the celebrations when there’s another, larger feast held with plenty of chances for dancing and sneaking away into dark corners, he makes it a point to keep an eye on you. the moment he spots you, finally alone, he beelines for you. your attention is on your necklace, readjusting the pendant that rests on your chest, and he cannot help but let his gaze linger on the swell of your breasts as he approaches. he’s found himself staring at your chest more often than is wholly appropriate over the last few days, but then he knows his own weaknesses when it comes to a woman’s form.

“p-prince jacaerys,” you greet weakly when you look up from your necklace, hands smoothing over the skirts of your dress. your eyes dart about the room as if seeking a rescue from someone, and he tries not to feel how such a response to his presence stings. “how are you enjoying the feast?”

“well enough,” he returns, echoing the words you’d spoke to him days ago. gods, has it only been days since that conversation? it feels like an age, and he has felt more distant from you in these passing moments than he is in your years apart.

“that is… good.” your fingers twist around each other, teeth catching on your bottom lip, and he has to swallow back the sudden rush of desire to be the one nipping at the pouting flesh.

“would you do me the honour of a dance, princess?”

his request startles you, eyes widening as your fingers drop back to your side in surprise. he thinks for a wild moment that you’ll say no, make some excuse to remove yourself from him, and he feels himself bracing for the rejection. but you hesitate, searching his face, and whatever you find there seems to soften something in you as you nod.

“of course.” you offer him your hand, an unsure smile on your face.

he takes it with relief, trying not to react at the sensation of your hand in his own. he was right in thinking your hands are smooth, but as he leads you to the dance floor and your fingers slide over his palm he feels the drag of callouses as he’d expected. it pulls him back into that heated imagining of before for a moment, and he has to shake his head slightly to keep himself from losing his wits.

you stay quiet as he guides you into position, dainty hand resting on his shoulder as he places his own at your hip. he leads you through the first few steps in quiet, too, taking the moment to enjoy having you in his arms, having you close. but he realises after a silent minute that you’re obviously not going to say anything, and even as he looks beseechingly at you appear to avoid meeting his eyes.

“you’ve been avoiding me,” he speaks lowly, watching you carefully as you stare purposefully at the bridge of his nose instead of his eyes.

your eyes flicker away and back and then away again, fingers tightening around his own as he leads you through the steps of the dance effortlessly. “aye,” you admit quietly. “i have been.”

“why?” he doesn’t mean to sound so desperate nor so accusing, but the quiet hurt that your absence has caused him surges forth before jace can stop it.

you finally meet his gaze, eyes helpless and wanting and aching, and his stomach twists at the sight of your conflicted expression.

“i— jace, i can’t.” your voice cracks with the weight of your emotion and without thinking he pulls you closer, arm wrapping tight around your waist to provide you some semblance of comfort. “i can’t. not here, please.”

wordlessly he alters the steps of the dance, drawing you with precision through the crowd of dancers until you come to one of the balconies. it’s blessedly empty of anyone else, and as soon as you realise it some tension seems to shake loose of you.

you step out of his grip slowly, almost reluctantly, and walk to the railing, palms splaying on the stone. he joins you after the barest hesitation, drinking you in as you stare out at the courtyard and beyond. he notices how tightly you grip the banister, colour leeching from you knuckles with the strength of your grip, and almost without thinking jace rests his hand beside your own, pinkie fingers brushing. the touch seems to release something in you and he hears how your breath shudders before you speak.

“i embarrassed myself on the night of the welcome feast,” you confess miserably. “i drank too much, and the way that i behaved— staring at you in that way— it was not becoming behaviour of a princess, nor of a, a friend. i did not wish to make you uncomfortable again, so i thought it best i keep my distance from you.”

he blinks in surprise. “uncomfortable?” the mere idea of such a thing is maddening. he recalls the sight of you before him, lips parted and oh so kissable as you’d stared at him with such intention it had set him ablaze. how in the name of the gods can you think he found such a thing uncomfortable? “princess, i can assure you, the only feeling i took from your admiration is delight.”

your head snaps around, eyes finally meeting his own again, and he shakes his head in bemusement at the sight of your desperate hope. “truly? you do not jest?”

he resists the urge to chuckle, knowing you’ll take any kind of laughter, no matter how well meaning, poorly. instead he reaches for you, grasps your hands in his own and tries not to bask in the way you lean into him as he steps recklessly into your space. he feels your trembling breaths puff against his jaw as he ducks his head to stare intently into your eyes, and if he were a weaker man jace thinks he’d be on his knees in prostration for you in that very moment.

“surely you must know how i feel for you?” he murmurs, tracking the way the flush in your cheeks travels down your neck and onto your chest with greedy eyes. “how desperately i adore you?”

“jacaerys—.” you huff, shaking your head in denial for all that with every breath you take you sway ever closer to him. “we hardly know each other anymore. i won’t deny there is, is a yearning between us, mayhaps, but you cannot claim to adore me when you know me not. it’s been years since—"

“—do you think time matters?” he talks over you, strong in his conviction that you and he share a bond that transcends time or distance or duty. “that any distance between us could change what i know in my bones? i loved you before i had a name for it. i loved you when we were children and, yes, i love you again now. mayhaps i don’t know your favourite sweet or if you prefer to watch the sun rise or set, but i know you. i know who you are, princess, for all that i might no longer know the rest of it. i know your good heart, your quick mind and i know that i love you.” he hesitates, drinks in the dawning, open wonder on your face, and then adds, “and i think you might love me just the same.”

you sigh out his name sweetly, fingers tangling with his own as he squeezes your hands tenderly. you tilt your chin towards him as your eyes flutter shut. his nose slides against your own as you turn just so to the side, and your mouth is so close. he could kiss you, right now, and he knows that you would not pull away. but he’s too aware of the noise of the feast, the crowd of people that at any moment could find you in a compromising position.

he wants you, gods does he want you, but he will not ruin your reputation, will not sully your virtue for the sake of a stolen kiss on a balcony when he desires no less than forever with you.

“i will not push you,” he murmurs against your lips, breathing the air right from your lungs as he presses his forehead to yours for just a moment. “if you do not want this — if you do not return my feelings — i won’t push you nor pursue you. i hold too great a respect for you for that.” he cradles your jaw, thumb dragging at the corner of your mouth, and he glories in the way you shudder at his touch. with an unsteady breath he separates himself from you, hands clenching into fists at his side in an effort not to immediately reach for you again.

“but if you decide you want me as i want you, that you love me as ardently as i you, then my chambers will be unguarded and unlocked for you.” he sketches a bow, heart thundering in his chest as you stare at him in wordless shock. “i hope to see you later tonight, my princess.”

you have no chance to respond before jace leaves you standing on the balcony.

he leaves you with your mind swirling, one thought after another coming so quickly you have no hope in processing them. you’re glad to be outside, at least, the cool breeze helping soothe the heat that blazes through your veins as you press your hand over your racing heart. you don’t know what to think, what to feel, what to do. all you can think about is jace, earnest and honest and in love with you.

he’s in love with you (!).

it’s too quick. too much time has passed with too little contact. in the years since he left court you’ve grown into new people, people who for all intents and purposes are strangers to each other. the lust is there, there’s no point in denying that with how your body warms at the smallest glance from him. and that old familiarity that blossomed as friendship as children and now into easy companionship as adults, that remains as it always has. and mayhaps you’ve thought to yourself, in the dark quiet of the night, that you’ll surely love him once more. that to know him any better at all is to love him again, because how can you know him and not love him?

but there’s been years and leagues between you for so long. time and distance have their ways of changing a heart, and he might say it doesn’t matter but it does. it does.

only it doesn’t, not at all, because giddiness is bubbling up in you so sudden that you cannot fight it, a helpless laugh escaping you as you press your hand over your mouth in unabashed amazement. your brave prince, plunging headfirst into the long-unspoken feelings between you. it incites you to act, drives you back into the hall where you catch aegon for long enough to tell him you’re retiring for the night before escaping into the quiet corridors.

you feel like your heart is going to burst in your chest, nerves and excitement and awe twisting together inside of you until you feel like you might vibrate out of your own skin. the walk to jace’s chambers is a haze, and in the morning you expect you’ll panic, wonder if anyone saw you walking so shamelessly towards the prince’s rooms. but now, in this moment, all you can think of is how fervently you want him, how guilelessly you love him.

the knock on his door — unguarded, as he had promised — echoes loudly in the silent corridor. you can hear your own heartbeat thundering in your ears as you wait for him to answer, and when he finally does he takes your breath away.

he’s shed his doublet and sword belt, standing in only his breeches and a billowing off-white tunic. the ties are loose on his neck and you’re entranced by the peek of tanned skin there, the freckles you can see disappearing beneath the shirt. he says your name, once, and your eyes snap back to him in time to see the relief and wonder coalesce into smouldering fire.

he curls his fingers around your wrist, thumb swiping over the delicate skin in a way that makes you shiver, and he uses the hold to wordlessly tug you into his chambers. you step into the space, eyes darting from the large bed to the roaring fire and back to the bed again as he locks the doors behind you.

you are finally, blissfully, alone.

you feel his presence behind you, heat and woodsmoke radiating from him as you turn to face him. something in your chest loosens at the blatant awe in his amber eyes, like liquid gold in the light of the flames, and before you can pause to think you’re speaking, your feelings escaping you in a flood.

“i shouldn’t be here,” you say shamelessly. “i know my being here is—. i shouldn’t be here. but i couldn’t not be, jace, not when you left without giving me a chance to tell you how i feel. because, gods, of course i feel for you. it’s unreasonable, insensible— there’s so much about each other we just don’t know anymore.” you shake your head, smiling at him wide and helpless and hopelessly, hopelessly in love with him. “but despite all the rationality in the world, all the good sense — despite knowing the trouble this is sure to bring us — i am completely and utterly in love with you, jacaerys velaryon.”

he kisses you, then, surges into your space and cups your cheeks and slots his mouth so sweetly against yours. you gasp into his lips as he kisses you deliberate, slow and tender in a way that makes your chest ache. your arms loop around his neck, pulling him as close as you can as his own arms wrap around your waist. your noses bump and your teeth clash in your eagerness and it’s still glorious, it’s the best kiss you’ve ever experienced because it’s him.

it’s always been him.

you part after a few minutes, remaining close together as he runs his hand through your hair before cradling your face once more. “tell me again,” he whispers against your mouth, breathing your breath.

“i love you,” you say, smiling so wide it makes your cheeks ache. “i love you, i love you, i lo—”

he kisses you again, a quick press of his mouth against your this time, and then he’s laughing softly as his golden eyes shine down at you. “i have loved you forever,” he tells you, indulgent and affectionate as his thumb traces over your cheek. “i will love you forever, my princess.”

he draws you closer still, holds you tightly against him but far enough that he can drink you in, and for long moments you simply bask in the presence of each other, of this slow unfurling of happiness in your heart. this close to him, you can once again see the freckles dotted across his face. without even thinking of it your hand rises, and with butterfly-gentle fingers you trace a path over the constellations mapped on sun-kissed skin. jace sighs softly with your touch, dark lashes fluttering closed as his lips part.

“iksā sīr gevie [you are so beautiful],” you murmur, slipping into high valyrian in the quiet of his chambers.

he exhales shakily, breath hitching in his chest as your fingers brush gently over his eyelids, the slope of his nose, the furrow of his brow. you want to remember him like this forever – bathed in the soft firelight, trembling beneath your tender touch, wholly and entirely yours.

“ñuha dārilaros [my princess],” he breathes, and hearing him speak possessively of you in your mother tongue ignites something within you so suddenly you cannot fight it.

arousal roars to life, deep in your belly, and you are helpless but to do anything but lean forward and press your lips to his once more. jace meets you just as greedily, hands gripping tightly to the flesh of your hips as he hauls you closer until your chests press together. your hand moves from his face to fist in his hair, tugging at his curls until he whines against your lips. he kisses you deep and open mouthed and filthy, tongue sliding against yours so deliciously that you can feel heat pulse between your legs.

one of his hands comes up to tangle in your hair, pulling until your head is tilted back. he trails hot, wet kisses along your neck and you hiss at the sensation, pressing his head closer to your skin. you feel him smirk against you before he mouths at your pulse point, teeth nipping just enough to send a thrill of pain and pleasure through you.

“jace,” you moan, grinding against him shamelessly as he sucks a bruise into the sensitive skin of your throat. you want him so fiercely it makes you reckless, makes you insatiable as the hand not buried in his curls drags down his back to grip at his ass. he groans against you, your name spilling from his lips so deep and husky that you want to do whatever you can to make him say it like that again and again and again.

“this is— we shouldn’t,” he says into your skin. he pushes at the shoulder of your dress to expose more of your bare skin to his greedy eyes, lips trailing the path his fingers have taken. “we should wait until we—. if anyone knew of this—”

“—no one will know,” you assure him, fingers flexing into the taut skin of his ass to drive him closer to you.

“i don’t want to, to besmirch your honour.” even as he speaks he’s dragging his tongue against your collarbone, chasing a bead of sweat down to the swell of your chest.

“fuck my honour,” you burst out, and your language has him moaning. you hitch your leg around his waist and his hand drops instantly to grip you at the knee, pulling you just so until the hard length of him is grinding deliciously against your core. you can’t think, can’t breathe, for wanting him. his touch and his scent and his taste consumes you, inflames you, and you care for nothing but the feel of him against you.

he pulls away from your chest, mouth swollen and pupils blown as he pants hotly. he presses his forehead to yours, squeezing your hip to still you as you shamelessly try to rub yourself against him. “this will bring ruin to you if it gets out, do you understand? it would break me to be the cause of such a thing.”

his desperation makes you hesitate, something about the fierce tone breaking into the haze of lust that consumes you. you take a moment to look at him, and you know with certainty that if you ask him to stop right this second he will.

but you don’t want him to stop. you’ve never wanted anything less.

“jace.” you cup his cheek, thumb dragging over his bottom lip as you force him to keep your gaze. “i know the risks of this as well as anyone.” you lean in closer, your nose sliding against his before you tilt your head to pepper soft, deliberate kisses along his jaw, the corner of his mouth. “i love you.” he sighs softly in pleasure before turning his head to capture your mouth again, and this kiss is a softer, slower thing.

when you break apart, you stare deeply into his eyes, making sure he can see the truth of your words. the heat in his amber eyes threatens to splinter you to pieces as you swallow thickly, almost overwhelmed once more with your desire for him.

“i am yours, jacaerys velaryon,” you say steadily. “no matter what happens from here— i belong to you.”

it’s like a dam breaks in him. his hands are suddenly everywhere as his mouth devours yours relentlessly, leaving you gasping and arching into his touch. he backs you towards his bed as his hands fist in your skirts, bunching the material up to your hips. he breaks from your mouth long enough to tug your dress over your head, leaving you in your thin small clothes, and despite the sweltering heat of the room your nipples harden beneath the sheer material.

“look at you, pretty thing,” he says reverentially, the weight of his heated gaze tangible as he stares at your heaving chest. “is this all for me?”

“yes,” you hiss, head tilting back as he trails kisses down the column of your throat. “all for you, jace. only ever for you.”

he groans at your words, deft fingers making quick work of the complicated stays of the brassiere, and when the material falls from you he stares for a long moment as if transfixed by the sight of your bare breasts. it makes you smug, knowing that those times you’ve caught his eyes lingering on your chest haven’t just been in your imagination.

“you are perfect,” he murmurs worshipfully, large hand cupping the side of your breast tenderly. “such a perfect girl for me.”

his thumb sweeps over your nipple, featherlight at first before returning more firmly when you sigh and lean into his touch. his other hand grips your hip once more, pulling you close to him as he lavishes more attention on your neck. he nips and kisses his way down your throat, your shoulder, the swell of your breast until he’s hunched slightly in front of you, sucking bruises into the tender skin of your chest.

“jacaerys, please.” you know not what you’re pleading for, only that you need something, and it’s as if he can read your mind as his mouth closes over your nipple. his hand, now free, gropes at your other breast as his tongue swirls tight circles around your nipple and your head tips back with a moan. it’s somehow enough and yet not, your hips bucking aimlessly as heat and slick pools between your legs, and you crave.

“more, please,” you beg shamelessly.

jace drops to the floor in response and the sight of him on his knees for you has your head spinning. he presses open mouthed kisses to the soft skin of your abdomen, bites gently at your hip as his hands slide steadily up your legs. you tremble beneath his careful ministrations, and he murmurs wordless assurances into your sweat-slick skin.

he hooks his fingers into the waistband of your smalls, dragging them agonisingly slowly down your legs until you can step out of them. standing completely bare before him you expect to find yourself shy, but the way jace looks at you rapturously has liquid heat licking through your veins instead.

he leaves lingering kisses on your thigh and down your leg, and when his mouth brushes over the tender skin at the back of your knee you feel them buckle. he huffs a gentle laugh against you, warm hands cradling your waist as he urges you to sit back on the bed. you do so unsteadily, planting your hands against the soft feather mattress and watching him with intent ardour.

he nudges your legs apart and settles between them, his shoulders spreading you wide around him and you release a soft breath as his thumbs rub soothing circles into your thighs. “let me take care of you, my princess,” he pleads, eyes wide and soft and beseeching as he gazes up at you. you nod hesitantly, not wholly sure what he intends, but then his eyes finally drop to your core and darken so quickly it makes your mouth dry.

“gods, look at you.” he drags a finger through your folds and your head cants back, a whine escaping you at the touch. “you’re so wet for me, love. so gorgeous.” he brings his finger to his mouth, licking it clean of your slick and it has your mouth dropping open because he’s obscene, you think. he’s glorious.

“you taste so good,” he says, his voice so rough with arousal it makes you shiver. “wanna taste more of you.”

with no more warning that that, he licks a deliberate strip along your slit before circling his tongue over your clit. your hand shoots to his hair, tangling in the dark curls as he feasts on you. his name falls from your lips over and over again like a prayer as he laps at your core, tongue pressing deliciously inside you. you grind wantonly against his mouth, panting as he laves at your cunt.

your pleasure climbs sharply, rising so high you’re helpless to resist the way your stomach tightens. as if sensing your approaching high jace shifts his focus to your pulsing clit, flicking his tongue rapidly over the bundle of nerves.

“jace, gods, feels so good,” you gasp out, fingers tightening in his curls to press his head impossibly closer. “please don’t stop, ‘m so close—”

he sucks harshly on your pearl, ever so carefully dragging his teeth over the sensitive flesh, and you fall to pieces as that tightly wound ball in your stomach snaps. he coaxes you through the trembling release, gentling his attention on you to drag out your pleasure until you’re squirming away from him in sensitivity. when he pulls away from your core his face is shining with your slick and the sight makes you feel feral. you bend to reach him and he presses up to meet you, kissing you hot and messy as you drink the taste of yourself from his mouth.

“you did so well for me, my princess,” he pants into your mouth as he crowds you onto the bed and the praise blooms hot in your chest. “need you to be good for me a little longer, okay? need to prepare you.”

you whimper, capturing his mouth in another sloppy kiss and nipping thoughtlessly at his lips as he settles between your legs. you can feel the heavy length of him against your hip, kept from you by his breeches, and you’re suddenly insensible with desire to see more of his skin. you tug wordlessly at the hem of his tunic, pulling it free from his trousers, and with a huff of fond amusement he separates from you to pull it over his head and toss it aside.

you drink in the exposed planes of his chest, leaning up to drag your tongue from freckle to freckle along his collarbone, and jace groans out your name in response. you follow the map of constellations down his chest, pressing kisses and gentle bites to the skin until you come to one of his nipples. hesitantly you flick your tongue out, curl it around the puckered skin just as jace had done to you earlier.

“fuck,” he hisses, fingers clenching in the sheets as his arms tremble with the strain of keeping himself steady above you.

emboldened by his response you lavish the pebbled bud with attention, switching to the other when the fancy takes you, until jace is shuddering with desire and pushing your shoulders back into the bed. he swallows your protests with a flurry of kisses as his fingers trail down your chest, your abdomen until he reaches the heat between your legs. he presses a finger against you again and you arch into the touch, tossing your head back into the pillows.

“i want you so badly,” he confesses in a whisper as he sucks another bruise into your neck.

“yes,” you respond senselessly, hips bucking up to meet the slow stroke of his finger. “want you, jace, please.”

“i need to prepare you first, love,” he tells you again and you whine in displeasure. “i don’t wish to hurt you, so i need to get you ready for me.”

you’ve heard that it can hurt, what happens in bed between a man and a woman. you can’t comprehend the idea with how good you feel right now, how good he’s made you feel already, but you nod in acquiescence at jace’s stubborn expression and he beams down at you.

“that’s my good girl,” he utters affectionately, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead.

the finger that’s been sliding leisurely against you shifts, pressing inside with a familiar stretch. you’ve touched yourself before, explored what pleasure you can draw from your own body in the late of the night. you don’t know if it’s different because it’s the angle or just because it’s jace, but the feeling of his finger pumping into you is so much better than anything you’ve managed with your own clumsy digits and you moan with the pleasure of it.

“you’re so tight,” he says in amazement, burning gold eyes staring down at you worshipfully. “can’t wait to be inside you, my princess.”

you moan at his filthy words, hips bucking into his touch as he presses a second finger into you. this one pinches more, makes it almost uncomfortable until jace starts to rub slow circles over your clit with his thumb. any discomfort melts into liquid pleasure as he mouths at your neck once more, fingers crooking inside of you just so until stars burst behind your eyes.

“fuck, jacaerys—”

he shushes you softly even as his eyes gleam with smug pride. he picks up the pace, now, fucking you with his fingers as your pleasure starts to climb once more. just when you start to feel like you can’t take it anymore he slides a third finger in, the stetch burning deliciously this time, and you come apart on his fingers with a strangled moan of his name. he doesn’t relent this time, though, even when you writhe helplessly beneath him; he just chases another release for you without giving you a chance to recover, and the thrill rises so quickly it almost makes it a little hard to breathe.

“just one more,” he soothes as you whine, pressing delicate kisses to the corner of your mouth as he drives his fingers into you relentlessly. “you’re doing so well. just one more for me.”

your third climax hits you so hard your back bows up from the bed, mouth parting in a silent cry of pleasure as jace coaxes you through it before pulling his fingers from you. you ache at the loss, mewling your displeasure as your cunt clenches around nothing. he breathes a laugh at your impatience, kissing you so sweetly in such contrast to the delicious heat between you that it almost makes you weep.

with shaking hands you reach for the ties of his breaches, fumbling with the laces while he kisses you languidly. you make a triumphant little noise when you finally untie them and he smiles at you, adoring and soft and yet somehow feverishly aroused as you push the leather trousers down his hips. he helps you the rest of the way, kicking them off before returning to hover over you.

your hands brush his abdomen as you reach for him, fingers curling gently around the hard line of his cock, and he realises a shuddering breath in response. he watches you intently as you stare at his arousal, fascinated by the way your fingers barely close around the thick girth of him. he’s going to fill you so well, you realise, and you bite your lip as your core clenches again. the tip of him is leaking fluid, and you drag your hand up his cock to swipe your thumb over the head.

jace moans at the movement, so you do it again and again, watching in inflamed curiosity at the way his stomach contracts as he thrusts into your hand, the wet noise of it making you flush down to your toes as desire sparks in your core. his hand covers your own abruptly, stopping your exploration, and you pout up at him as he fixes you with a blazing stare.

“if you keep doing that, i’m not going to last,” he says, voice shaking with the weight of his desire.

“fine.”

you huff, pretending at annoyance even as you eagerly lie back and spread your legs for him. you fix him with an expectant look, raising an eyebrow, and he chuckles fondly as he settles himself between your legs once more. you’re not expecting the velvet heat of him dragging against you and you gasp at the sensation, grinding against him as he thrusts shallowly against you.

“are you ready for me, love?” he checks, cradling your face in his hands as his thumb rubs over your jaw.

you turn to press a kiss against his palm, near overwhelmed with your love and affection for this man. “yes,” you say simply, and it’s all the permission he needs as he ducks down to kiss you unhurriedly.

his head catches at your opening on the next thrust, and with the slightest shift of your hips he’s pressing inside of you. the stretch of him burns, pinches, but just as he did with his fingers, he worms his hand between your bodies to drag circles over your clit. you do your best to relax, keeping your eyes fixed on his golden stare as he slides into you, agonisingly slow.

the whole while he keeps up a litany of praise, calling you good and precious and perfect as sweat beads along his forehead. when he’s finally fully sheathed inside you he stills his movements, kisses you hard and wanting as he thumbs at your pearl, and when you’re ready you tilt your hips. the stretch of him burns, still, but in a way that sets your skin alight as you cling to his shoulders.

he moans your name like a prayer, drawing away from you until the tip of his cock catches at your entrance once more, and this time when he sinks back in your eyes roll back into your head. he feels so good, stretching and filling you so completely that you’ve no room to think, to breathe, to do anything but take it as he thrusts into you. he buries his head in your neck, resting on his forearms as he plunges into you again and again and again, and between your own choked breaths and the sounds of skin against skin, you hear him muttering in high valyrian.

“sīr sȳz syt nyke, sīr ȳrda, sīr lōz. vēttan syt nyke. ñuha dārilaros, mirre ñuhon [so good for me, so tight, so wet. made for me. my princess, all mine].”

it drives you wild, his voice and his words and hearing him speak in valyrian combined with the exquisite torture of the slow drag of his cock inside you. it’s too much, not enough, and leaves you with nothing but the need to feel as much of him as you possibly can. your hands drag up and down his back, fingernails leaving raised red lines in their wake as you seek to be as close to him as you can bear.

“more, jace, gods, please, i need—”

he cuts you off with a hard thrust, your breath punching out of your lungs as he starts to drive into you harder and faster. it’s so good, so fucking good, but still not quite enough and you whine, seeking something you’re not sure you know how to verbalise.

“whatever you need, love. i’ll give you whatever you need.”

understanding your need even when you don’t, jacaerys rears up, grips your legs and presses your knees to your chest before bearing down on you. like this he reaches so deep it hurts in the most unbearably, searingly pleasurable way. and it’s perfect, exactly what you needed, feeling him so far inside you that it soothes you and ignites you and makes you ache all at once.

“y’feel so good,” you manage to slur out, head lolling as you lose yourself to the feel of him taking you apart so expertly. “so— fuck— so deep. so good, jace, so good.”

jace groans your name, pounding into you so hard and so deep that it’s unconscionable, has your eyes rolling back into your head as your hips buck up to meet him recklessly. your peak approaches again, searing heat blazing through you as you inch closer to another climax, and all you can do is whine and moan as he fills you over and over again. he starts to lose the thread of his rhythm as you clench around him, valyrian and common tongue mixing senselessly as praise spills from his lips.

“avy jorrāelan [i love you] my perfect girl, gūrogon nyke sīr sȳrī [take me so well], can’t get enough of you, hells, i love you, ao sagon ñuhon [you’re mine], my love, my princess, my queen, ñuha ābrazȳrys [my wife].”

you come so hard you see stars, walls pulsing around jace’s cock as he curses. he thrusts sloppily into you, chasing his own release and dragging out your own as you keen, nails digging into the skin of his shoulders. he finds completion with a drawn out noise, seed spilling hot and thick inside of you as he lazily pumps his hips two, three more times before collapsing on top of you.

you press absent kisses to his temple, brushing back the sweat-soaked curls from where they’ve matted on his forehead as he shudders against you. you feel lethargic, body aching in the sweetest of ways as you fight to catch your breath. eventually the heavy weight of jace on top of you becomes uncomfortable and you squirm beneath him in protest. with a sigh he slides himself free of you, rolling over onto his back and wrapping an arm around you to pull you with him so that you sprawl over his chest.

you bury your smile into his neck, satisfaction settling bone-deep as his hand runs up and down your back idly. for long moments the two of simply lie together in the quiet, the only sound the rustling of the sheets and the crackle of the dying fire.

“i’ll speak to my mother and the king on the morrow,” he says into the quiet and you raise your head to look at him. he looks serious, amber eyes contemplative as he peers down at you. “i’ll not let another night pass without you as my betrothed.” he smiles at you then, a little crooked as his eyes crinkle, and without thought you reach up to press a lingering kiss to his mouth.

“i love you,” you say, eyes shining with mischief. “ñuha valzȳrys [my husband].”

jace swallows your laugh with another kiss, doing a poor job of hiding his own amusement as his smile presses to yours, and as the candles burn down you let all of your worries and doubts fade.

you love him. he loves you.

there’s nothing else that matters.

[andersonfilms]

jock!abby who is a toxic piece of shit. she believes anyone and everyone fawns over her built physique, deep blue eyes, and abby's beautiful freckled face. almost too good for anyone to refuse. there’s a reason she has a new girl coming out of her dorm every weekend. to you? she’s just the annoying girl who won’t leave you the fuck alone. anchored to your fucking body as if hearing the word no will cause a drastic change to her life. even in the summer, you can’t avoid her. it isn’t until she gets you alone, the sun glistening on your skin, a small swimsuit covering your body that she decides to bother you. unfortunately for you, mutual friends in this swallowed-up town seem to be a consistent drag from your life.

for not even a moment has the tenacious blonde let up. you swear she puts on the tanning oil in an attempt to make her muscles look even more undeniable, and to your disappointment, it’s working.

abby had the decency to avoid you the last six months when you entangled yourself with someone, but now you’re free as a bird, subjected to the torment of her innate flirting nature.

her weight sinks into the lounge chair, making a home by your waist as her fingers play with the strings keeping your bottoms secure. “yes anderson?”

she pauses for a moment, looking down at you through her long eyelashes, practically kissing the top of her cheeks.

“while you went to sleep early last night, zoe got hammered and may have told me something.” the way her hand travels to your upper thigh, fingertips ghosting over the soft skin — she’s up to no good. to make matters worse, it’s just the two of you out here. secluded, alone…private.

abby’s vacation home belonging to her father was big enough to split between the eight of you. right now? you’d never felt more suffocated. you knew what would tumble out and there was no way to stop it. she finally had you cornered after all of her gallant efforts. this is her chance.

“i was pleasantly surprised by the omission.” she paused for a moment, gently spreading your thighs apart. “pretty girl like you, getting caught fucking yourself, moaning my name.”

“a moment of weakness. that’s it. i was in a mood, you’re everywhere. continuously trying to get in my pants. naturally, my pheromones made the connection.” you scoffed grabbing your book and ready to leave while her fingers made a connection with your clothed pussy.

slowly her finger runs up your slit through the swimwear, “is that why you’re wet? another moment of weakness?” she whispers even though it’s just the two of you. “haven’t stepped in the pool all day.”

inhaling sharply as she applies more pressure causing you to whimper, your hips bucking into her finger that won’t stop running through her slit. “abby." she giggles, a smirk plastered on her face.

"why don't you tell me no again, huh? what was it last time?" abby pushes the bikini to the side, using the pad of her thumb to push along your pussy. you moan instantly, your body jerks as she slips a finger inside you. "fuck off you dirty slut, was it?"

"i didn't knew you could—” your voice interrupted as the back door opens, signaling someone exiting the back door to join the two of you. abby bows her head down, tongue flicking at your exposed clit. she moans against your pussy.

"anderson! someone's coming." you raise your eyebrows as if it should signal her. abby removes herself from you, kissing your belly softly. "just want to give you more to think about before i fuck you tonight." removing herself she steps away, sucking her fingers clean of you, leaving you in a sudden daze.

"may want to cover your pretty pussy before dina sees you." abby winks before leaving you with a weeping cunty and an unyielding yearning swarming in the pit of your stomach.

[mostly-imagines]

Who Needs Heaven? : The Drop-In

jason todd x fem!reader

aka jason meets his daughters

warnings: it’s not specific if the kids are bio or adopted — this probably doesn’t make sense on multiple fronts but i DON’T CARE

see for: the vibes

(2) safe & sound

His body jolts like he’s snapping out of sleep. The first thing he processes is loud conversations echoing, the sound of young girls talking over each other. He surveys over a book in his hands that he’s never heard of, though it’s opened more than halfway through and considerably worn. He drops the book to the side, coming to a stand and scanning over the environment. 

He looks around the adorned living room, taking in details rapidly. He doesn’t recognize the house he’s in but he can tell it’s somewhere he definitely does not belong. The room is filled with books on shelves and picture frames are littered in every free spot in between. The lights are warm and the furniture is colorful with pillows and blankets strewn all over. It’s a stark contrast to the refined stoic Manor he’s so used to; there’s a distinct feeling of homeliness and warmth that seeps through the walls.

He creeps into the front entryway to the house as quietly as he can, peering up the staircase to the landing above for any signs of familiarity or danger. From his right, a girl comes darting into the space, running face first into Jason. He immediately reaches out to steady her but she shows no sign of disruption. She makes a point of holding the wrapped popsicle in her hand away, keeping it safe. She blinks up at him before taking off past him, calling out, “Sorry, dad!”

Dad?

“Anna, I swear to God—” Another girl of similar age runs past, paying him no mind.

He gapes after her, thoroughly confused. Where the hell is he?

“Daddy?” He turns around and looks down to a younger girl who looks about six at most. She stares up at him with wide eyes and freckled cheeks. “Are you okay?”  

He can’t think.

This isn’t…this can’t be real. It can’t be. This is a dream. He got knocked out. He’s hallucinating. He’s dying.

He tries to keep his breath steady as this little girl peers up at him with curious eyes. “Daddy?”

He opens his mouth, struggling to find words, let alone get them out. “Where…where’s your mom?” He can barely make out his own voice.

“She’s in your room,” she tells him, looking up the stairs. 

He treds up the stairs slowly, the chatter downstairs barely getting any quieter. The second floor seems deserted in terms of the presence of children. If, if this were real (or more likely, a dream) you’ll be here somewhere. There’s no scenario where he’d ever imagine a life in a big house with a big family without you—subconsciously or otherwise. 

Several doors line the wide hallway, most of them open. He peers in the room closest to the top of the staircase, finding a heartily decorated bedroom with two twin beds. Polaroids and movie posters litter the walls and clothes are strewn across on top of the bed covers and in a few small piles on the floor. An orange lava lamp illuminates the room from a desk, shining off the glossy cover of magazines. Above, sports medals dangle off the wall against a white board, a scribbled on game of hangman midway through. A full-length mirror covered in stickers along the edges reflects a bookshelf across the room, dozens of books stuffed on each shelf. He blinks vacantly, pulling back from the doorway and continuing on.

He continues on down the right side of the hallway, passing up a bathroom and a closet before peering into the next room. It also has two beds, but it’s filled with remnants of young children. A small table with a tea set laid out on top sits in the middle of the room with various princess dresses draped across the short chairs. Pink bed sheets and butterfly-filled curtains joined by toy cars lined against the wall and strings of pink starry lights hanging from the ceiling. Both beds have stuffed animals arranged in thoughtful piles. It takes Jason a moment to notice the tattered, worn elephant with the green polka dot tie on the bed with the Cinderella comforter. Pickles. It was his when he was a kid. It’s placed delicately at the top of the pile, like he’s the king of the crop. A grand dollhouse sticks out against one of the walls, the dolls all lying asleep in their makeshift beds. Fluffy bubblegum and fuschia rugs scatter the floor just enough that you could jump across the room without ever touching the hardwood.

He turns to the last room, a door directly across that’s just cracked open. He can hear light music coming from inside and the almost inaudible shuffle of movement. He pushes the door open cautiously and takes in the sight of a woman, back to the door, folding laundry on the bed. He doesn’t even need to see your whole figure to know that it’s you.

“Sweetheart?” He sounds like he’s out of breath. 

“Yeah?” You turn around with your same kind eyes and gentle disposition. You look older, not much older but your face is more mature. You even hold yourself a little differently. You quickly notice the way he scans you with a look of bewilderment on his face and jump into concern. “What’s wrong?” You drop the shirt that you’re folding on the bed, approaching him with soft steps. Everything feels fuzzy.

“This—this is…” His voice seems far away, this body feels further. “This isn’t real…”

“What? Jay, what are you talking about?” You’re so genuinely concerned about him it makes his heart hurt and does nothing to help clear his head.

His breathing starts to stutter and his eyes can’t pick something to focus on. Everything is telling him that this is a false sense of security, he’s not safe, you’re not safe, everything’s wrong—

“Woah, hey, hey. It’s okay.” You take his face in your hands the way you know tends to ground him. “Catch me up.”

He tries to focus on the sliding clasp of the necklace around your neck. “I…I think this is…” He doesn’t want to say it. He doesn’t want to get his hopes up only to wake up in a few seconds and find that it was all pretend. Instead, he’ll settle for, “...This hasn’t happened…”

You frown at that, tilting your head. “What do you mean?”

He breathes out heavy, “I think I’m dreaming.” 

“What are you dreaming of?” You walk along this train of thought with him, though he has no idea why you would entertain it. This really must be pretend.

“The future…this is…is this the future?” He’s whispering, he’s not even sure if he’s asking you or himself or maybe even God. 

You’re quiet for a minute before you speak again. “Oh,” you say contemplatively, not nearly as alarmed as you should be. You should probably be calling him crazy, right? “This is—you told me about this. Yeah, it had something to do with that clock guy—”

He blinks a few times, “The Clock King?” That does sound…familiar. Was he—he was with Bruce wasn’t he? Or maybe Dick. Both?

You nod, “Yeah, yeah. You said you ‘time traveled’ for a minute...but that was in, like…”

He fills in the blank with the year as he remembers it and your eyes go wide. “Well, this would be a bit of a surprise then.”

“We have kids?”

You laugh, brushing his hair back gently, “Yes. Yes, we definitely do. Five girls.”

“Five?” He breathes.

“Yeah. Wasn’t the plan but…” you shrug easily, “Here we are.” 

He barely stops his next question from coming out of his mouth and replaces it. “Is this something I should be hearing?”

“What?” You tilt your head for a second before realization flashes across your face. “Oh, you don’t end up remembering any of this.” You shrug, mouth scrunched up to the side, “So why not?”

He does really want to hear about them. “Please.” He whispers faintly. 

You nod reposefully, “Okay, well…” you pause, eyes on the ceiling. “Oh, wait.” You dart over to the bookshelf against the wall and pull a book from the second shelf from the top, a large pink photo album.

You shuffle back, guiding him to the bed and sitting thigh to thigh with him and placing the album on your laps. You flip it open to the first page, which displays an array of photos of who must be his daughter.

“This is Mia—Miriam—she’s the oldest. She’s thirteen now, she’s very smart and a sort of a perfectionist. Really a perfectionist.” A couple of her baby pictures were taken in your apartment and it makes his heart absolutely melt to see you as he left you, holding a baby—his baby—with a glowing smile on your face. There’s another photo of her, kindergarten aged, dressed up as Spoiler for halloween. One shows her on a bike with shimmery handlebar streams, Jason holding her steady as she learns. He’s wearing the brightest smile he’s ever seen on his own face.

“Then there’s the twins,” you continue, flipping to the next page. You laugh when his breath hitches at that. “I know. It’s not as scary as it sounds. Well, not now that they’re older. Ryan and Anna.” You point to them as you say their names, and he recognizes them quickly as the two girls that had run past the stairs. The twins look identical, the only discernible difference found in that Ryan is grinning in every picture with a glint in her eyes and Anna nearly always has a stoic look on her face. 

“Ryan is her father’s daughter. She thinks she’s very clever and even more funny, and she is but don’t tell her that, it goes straight to her head.”

There’s a picture that has to be a couple of years old by now of the two of them dressed in what looks like brand new soccer gear. Another depicts one of them chasing Tim with a firework sparkler at dusk. He sees one of Ryan covered in dirt and tiny cuts, smiling big, helmet crooked on her head.

“Anna’s a happy kid, she is. Don’t let her attitude trick you—she just likes to keep her feelings to herself.” Anna’s pictures remind him of Damian in some ways. The very intentional lack of a smile but the happiness still seeps through anyways. One of her pictures has her cuddling with two rottweiler puppies in classic Damian style. Another one shows her a bit older, on Jason’s shoulders, surveying the land.  

You turn to the next page, “And Laine, uh, Elaine,” you smile, “She’s a bit eccentric. She lives in her own world but she’ll bring you into it with her. She likes magic and glitter and offbeat things.” Laine’s pictures leave a particular warmth in his heart. She has the absolute widest smile and the brightest eyes he’s ever seen. One photo shows her having a picnic with several stuffed animals, another has her drawing a rainbow with sidewalk chalk. One picture towards the bottom of the page grabs his eye, one of Laine happily braiding Cass’ short hair at what appears to be the Manor.

“And then the little one is Aurora—Rory,” You turn to a page full of pictures of the wide-eyed girl, who has the sweetest baby face. He can tell from the pictures alone that she has your personality. You point to a picture of her giggling with bubbles all in her hair as you explain, “She’s still small but she has a big heart and a very sensitive soul already.” Jason’s practically staring a hole in the picture of Rory as a newborn in the hospital, held delicately by Bruce.

You play with the hair at the nape of his neck as he processes quietly, letting him take his time.

“They’re happy?” He asks in a whisper.

“We’re happy.” You say affirmingly. He looks you in the eyes and you see a specific vulnerability in his that you haven’t seen in a long time. “You are a good dad, Jay.”

He’s still surprised that you can read him like a book, even though at this point you’d have been together for at least fifteen-some years. His eyes burn and he’s not sure he can keep it together. But you dig the knife in all the same, “They love you. A lot. We couldn’t live without you.”

You flip through until you find a page later in the book, plopping it back open fully. The first picture he takes note of shows him outside with picked flowers scattered in his hair wherever they’ll stay put, Laine and Rory trying to straighten them out. Another is of Anna hesitantly feeding a horse an apple, Jason crouched next to her, reassuring her. On the other page, Rory is mid-air being thrown into an absolutely massive leaf pile, glee adorning her face. He turns the page to find one of the girls with a red hoodie pulled over her head and a makeshift mask made from a red plastic plate with holes cut out for the eyes. One has Mia resting against his back, passed out, as he helps Ryan tie off a friendship bracelet on her wrist.

This isn’t—he doesn’t deserve this. This can’t be true, this is more than a happy ending and he’d never even expected you to love him this long, let alone give him the world and then some. He stares at the page for a while, trying to burn every detail into his head. 

You tear your gaze away from his face to glance at the clock on the side table, muttering, “Oh shit. Hang on.”

His eyes follow you as you stand from the bed and walk across the room to the door, cracking it open a few inches before shouting out, “Bed!”

There’s a brief delay before a clamor starts towards them, all five girls thumping up the stairs.  

You turn back to him, heedfully, “You can stay in here if you want. They’re a little…a lot.” You say tentatively. Well, if there’s anything he’s accustomed to it’s big families with bigger personalities.

Jason lingers behind you as you enter the hallway, looking like a little kid in an unfamiliar place. Whatever conversations were going on downstairs have simply moved location, no urgency present whatsoever to continue on with the progression of the night. You’re trying to verbally corral them towards their respective bedrooms, but it’s a tough job with two clear headed parents on a good day.

He stands frozen in the midst of the clutter of them as they rattle off to you and to each other. He’s scared to say the wrong thing, do the wrong thing. He doesn’t want to upset or alarm them. But because he is their father, they don’t need him to do anything strange to realize that he’s being strange.

Ryan squints up at him, “What’s wrong with you?”

The question grabs Laine’s attention and she looks to you with wide eyes, “What’s wrong with Dad?”

You shake your head, “Nothing’s—”

“He’s not having a stroke already, is he?” Anna faints, no alarm in her words. Mia thumps the back of her head for that with no returning acknowledgement given by Anna.

Ryan is looking at him like she’s sizing him up. Something you did not get a chance to tell him about Ryan is that she can smell blood in the water like a shark. So it’s not surprising to you that she picks up on Jason’s disoriented state.

“Father?” She calls out sweetly.

You sigh, “Ryan—”

“No, it’s okay. I want to ask dad specifically.” She turns him away from you with a smile. She doesn’t know what’s going on and she doesn’t need to. She’s an opportunist like that. “Could I have the last popsicle?”

Anna cuts in harshly, “You better n—”

“Hey Annie, few notes for ya,” Ryan says with widened eyes and a pointed finger, “One, you shouldn’t interrupt your father, it’s disrespectful,” Anna’s face contorts at that, and she’s about to bite back but she’s cut off quickly by Ryan’s dedication to dishing out her hypocritical sermon. “Two, you shouldn’t interrupt me because it’s potentially the single greatest sin you’ll ever—”

Alright, you gave her a chance to turn it around, she’s done now. “No, you’re all going to bed now and if you’re lucky that popsicle is still there when you get home from school tomorrow.” You tell Ryan with a pointed look. She gives you a half-hearted glare, absolutely nothing compared to her real one. 

“Mom, you said—” Mia throws her hands up as she recounts a promise that you may or may not have given her, it’s anyone’s guess. 

Then Anna starts up, “That’s not fair, I called—”

Rory pipes up from behind you. “We’re supposed to read our story first.”

You inhale sharply, turning to face her, “Oh—” you crouch down to her level, holding her waist. “How about I read it tonight, Rory?”

She frowns, “Daddy always reads it.”

Ryan taps on Jason’s shoulder, pulling him closer. “Dad, listen,” she says lowly, like she’s trying to get him in on the deal of the century. “Anna doesn’t deserve it, she’s rooting for you to stroke out—”

You frown at Rory with repentance, “I know sweetheart, but—”

Laine looks quite contemplative as she announces, “It’s unholy to break tradition.”

You scrunch up your face and swivel your head to her, “What?”

This declaration does enough to break Ryan away from her scheme. She turns to her and says flatly, “You haven’t said anything that makes sense in like two weeks.” 

Jason’s mind is going a mile a minute, trying to process the fifteen things that are going on all at once and take in the fact that these are his children. His daughters and they’re so loud and opinionated and bold and he loves it. He thinks this is the closest he’ll ever get to heaven. Hell, he’d take this over heaven a million times over.

“Mom. Mom!” Mia urges, “Can you help me?”

Your head stutters between your daughters, “I—yeah. Rory, just—”

“I can do it.” He says quietly.

“Yeah?” You look up at him, hopefully, genuinely delighted that he wants to jump into this mess without the twelve years of prep that you’re dependent on. 

“Yeah.” He nods, determined and you and Rory smile up at him. Mia all but yanks you up from the floor, pulling you to her room and you can just barely make out Ryan’s hushed murmur of, “I’m getting the popsicle…”

Rory takes Jason’s hand, drowning her own in his. She leads him to the pink bedroom with all the toys, and climbs onto the unicorn bed, shoving all but a few of the stuffed animals onto the floor. Elaine follows close behind and does the same with her own bed, though the only one she keeps is Pickles.

He stands next to the bed a bit awkwardly as she pulls a book off the table next to her, the length of the book easily taking up half her arms. It takes her looking up at him expectantly for him to get the hint, shuffling to squeeze in next to her on the small bed. 

She hands him the book and he regards it with a smile. Little Women. He pauses as he starts to open it, “Where, um…where did we leave off?”

She looks at him funny, smiling like he’s messing with her. She flips the book open a little more than halfway through and stops on chapter fifteen. She presses her pointer finger down to the start of the chapter with a thump. “Right here.”

Jason takes a steadying breath and begins reading in the same soft voice he reads to you in, and it seems to appease both girls. He’s not processing what he’s saying as he sits there with his littlest daughter tucked into his side and hanging on to every last word. He can feel her breathing in and out softly and it all feels so surreal now. 

““I don't think you'll blame me, for I only sold what was my own." As she spoke, Jo took off her bonnet, and a general outcry arose, for all her abundant hair was cut short.” Rory giggles as Laine gasps, and Jason can feel the rhythm of his heart fluttering in a new way. 

He reads to the end of the chapter and returns the book to its place on the side table, and reluctantly pulls away from Rory, standing up again. He tucks her nicely, if not inexperienced, into the sheets and kisses her forehead. She immediately holds out her toy bear, silently requesting the same treatment for him. Jason kisses the bear too, happily. He does the same for Laine, taking particular note of the way she hugs Pickles to her chest tightly. 

He starts towards the door, but is quickly put to a halt. “Wait,” Laine calls out. He turns back to her wide-eyed, terrified he did something wrong. “The lights,” she says, looking up to the ceiling at the dangling stars. Oh, right. She watches him skeptically as he innocently looks around for the switch, and Rory tilts her head at him, not sure what he’s playing at. 

“It’s right there,” Rory points with a mildly sullen look to where the mechanism dangles near the outlet. Jason quickly flicks the lights on, the soft orange-pink glow of stars illuminating against the walls. Rory’s pleased enough and adjusts to get more comfortable in her bed. 

Laine however, hisses out a, “Hey,” gesturing him towards her. He sidesteps the tea table and comes around to her side of the room, kneeling down by her bed attentively. She glances over at Rory before asking in a hushed voice, “Are you an alien?” 

That, he wasn’t expecting. “...What?” 

She shakes her head reassuringly, “It’s okay, I won’t tell. But um…I would like my dad back eventually please. If that’s okay.”  

His breath stutters and he forces out an, “O—okay.”

She holds out her pinky and it takes him a second to register what she’s asking. He wordlessly pinky promises her and she smiles big, pleased with the agreement.

He stands again, feeling light headed as he heads for the door. 

“Goodnight, Daddy,” Rory murmurs against the pillow, watching him leave.

His gaze flickers back and forth from them to make sure they like having the door closed, Rory watches him bemusedly and Laine nods at him slyly with a twinkle in her eyes. “Goodnight, Dad.”

“Goodnight,” He exhales, not as loud as he meant to. He clicks the door shut softly and there’s a warmth in his chest that he could get addicted to.

He wanders down the hall towards the sound of your voice, passing Anna and Ryan climbing under their covers and murmuring something to each other, half eaten popsicle in the ladders hand. He passes the staircase, peering his head into the next room over. His eyes immediately land on you and Mia stood in front of an armoire, shuffling through clothes having an exchange of considerative words.

Mia’s room is very neat and put together, everything is placed with much more intention than in the other girls rooms. Her room has more mellow colors too, largely white with soft shades of pastels throughout. There’s a desk with organized notebooks and multiple vases of flowers, with bundles of yarn placed nicely in a basket in the corner. A tall bookshelf is filled with fifty-some books with a violin case leaning up against it. Nail polishes rest beside a jewelry box on the side table next to her bed. She also has picture frames across the walls, some containing photos of flora, others of the family, and a few of what appears to be her own sketches.

“—worried it’s too showy, you know?”

You hum, “I don’t think so, I mean, not for picture day.” 

Mia turns to Jason, shirt held up against her body. “What do you think?”

He takes a second to bounce back from the surprise of being asked the question, “I, uh…I like it.”

You smile at him as Mia faces you again, “Okay, so this with that flowy lilac skirt?”

“The lilac…yeah, that would be cute.”

She nods pleased, draping the shirt over the back of the armchair in the corner.

You and Jason head out of the room, closing the door on your way out so she can change into her pajamas. 

“Goodnight!” she calls out through the crack in the door. You and Jason return it in sync, clicking the door closed. You hold his hand as you walk past the twins' open door, giving them the same sentiment with Jason’s own following quickly after. They call it out back, louder than necessary, and you close your bedroom door behind the two of you.

You rest against the door and he leans his head back against the wall next to you, glancing over at you. “I won’t remember any of this?” He seems dejected at the idea, not happy to have been handed the world and then having it swiped from his memory immediately after.

You consider it for a second, shaking your head, “I don’t think so.”

He’s quiet for a bit, thinking. “Do you have a marker?”

“A marker?” You look around casually, “Uh, yeah.” You unclip a sharpie from the mini calendar pinned against the wall, tossing it to him. You watch curiously as he holds his forearm out in front of him, popping the lid off with his mouth.

The light in the room starts to dim dramatically until his vision is completely dark. The pull of gravity on his body feels wrong and a pang of fire shoots against the side of his head.   

“Hood.” He hears in the darkness, “Hood.” The commanding voice startles him awake once again. “Are you alright?” 

He blinks up at Batman blearily, feeling like he’s just gotten hit over the head with a chair. “What…what—”

“The Clock King. He threw some sort of device at you. It knocked you out for a few minutes. Are you alright?”

He feels dizzy. “Uh…yeah.”

He cranes his head to glance over at where the Clock King is hunched over on the ground, handcuffed, inspecting the cartridge of his device closely. “Damn it, I knew it wasn’t right. Meant to knock him into the past.” He tells Nightwing like it’s some common mistake they can bond over. 

Nightwing moues at him, “I don’t care?”

Knock him into the—did he go to the future? He can’t get his thoughts in order, let alone summon memories from the future. Frankly, it doesn’t matter that much to him right now—he’s sore and wants to just fall asleep next to you. 

He sits up slowly, grimacing as the pain in his head sharpens for a moment. Batman clasps his hand on his shoulder, holding him steady. “Can you stand?”

Hood grunts and pushes himself up, anchoring his weight against the ground. “Fuck. I’m going home.”

Batman says nothing to protest, instead joining Nightwing and pulling The Clock King up from the ground. Jason stumbles away towards his bike, thankful that he’s only a couple miles away from your apartment. Jesus, the future? You’re not going to believe that shit.

He climbs onto the bike with a groan, pushing up his sleeves as he prepares to start the bike. He doesn’t notice it until he revs it, but when he looks down at his left arm, he sees scribbled on his arm in sharpie:

WE’RE HAPPY

vote: do you have a favorite daughter?

❤️ REBLOGGING = SUPPORTING ❤️

[pseudowho]

Operation: Babymaker-- Benchpress

When it comes to trying for a baby, Nanami Kento always works overtime. And the reader had better be ready.

💜 💛 Part 1 LINK HERE: A Trip to the Tailors

💜 💛 Part 3 LINK HERE: Ditch the Party...again

💜 💛 Part 4 LINK HERE: Wet Dreams

💜 💛 Part 5 LINK HERE: Honeytrap/Maid Café

💜 💛 Part 6 LINK HERE: Grapple

Interrupt Kento's workout? Get ready to be manhandled 💛

Warnings: 18+ throughout, breeding kink, fertility/infertility discussion, manhandling, full nelson 💛

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"How strong are you, Kento? Really?"

In just his checked pyjama trousers, Nanami Kento still cut an imposing figure. Even though his waist was thick with muscle (though not with heavily defined decorative abs-- just subtle planes under freckled skin), his chest and shoulders broadened out dramatically, his arms thick and veiny, his hands bold and angular.

Kento paused, his coffee halfway to his lips, holding his book open with one hand, before answering; "Strong enough, I should think. Why?"

Just modest, you thought. You looked him slowly up and down, your filthy imagination whirring. You smiled, tucking your legs up under you on the sofa, cupping your tea between two hands.

"No reason."

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You couldn't help yourself from watching.

"One."

A home gym was a blessing for Kento, who neither worked out for enjoyment nor vanity, but purely for the demands of his job.

"Two."

He was away from home enough. And people at the gym stared so much, that Kento's workouts used to feel cloying, claustrophobic, skin prickling with the eyes of thirsty or envious fellow gym-goers.

"Three."

As he pulled himself up again, feeling everything in his body clench with exertion, he did, however, feel one pair of eyes on him.

"Four...why are you hiding in the shadows, hmm?"

You jumped, biting your bottom lip between your teeth. Your mind had been spirited away by thoughts too obscene to say out loud. Thoughts of being restrained. Thoughts of being grappled into submission, pinned, gasping. Thoughts made so easy to have about the man who you knew would never hurt you.

Stepping out from behind the doorframe, your coy demeanour made Kento huff, a short puff of air from his nose, and you watched blatantly as he finished his set. In snug shorts set halfway up his thighs, and a loose drop-sleeved tank top, you reasoned you couldn't be expected to take your eyes off him either.

Kento continued, walking over to the narrow Benchpress bench, beginning to place weights on the bars, one, after another, after another and you felt yourself filled with wicked intent.

"You can't lift that," you scoffed. Kento's jaw clenched, a small smile gracing his lips, as he continued shifting plates. Your words rolled off him, water off a duck's back. The ungoadable man.

"If you think you're going to interrupt me," Kento toned, smooth and reasonable, "you're wrong. I always get my workout done in 45 minutes, and..." he crooked his wrist, checking the time, "...I won't be late for anything."

Kento laid himself back on the narrow seat, no bench left at all on either side of his hips, the wings of his shoulders gaping out over the bench's confines. As the soft fabric of his shorts stretched over his thick thighs, settling over the prominent bulge of his groin, you gulped. Your mouth watered. And as Kento began to lift, with short ragged grunts rumbling from his chest, it all became too much to resist.

Kento's eyes were fixed upwards, hyper focused, feeling the impossibly deep ache of lifting something just about too heavy for him to lift. He barely noticed the flicker of movement out of the corner of his eye-- you, languidly undressing down to your underwear, eyes fixed on Kento's thighs.

Kento jolted as he felt you settle, warm and blushing, straddling his spread thigh. He almost fumbled his lift, and coughed in alarm to see you sat, almost naked, pressing your core against his tensed muscles.

"Won't be late for anything? Even me? Even when I want your baby so badly, Kento," you purred, your hands coming up to remove your bra, dropping it onto Kento's twitching abs as your breasts slipped free. Kento felt a bead of sweat drop down his temple, and he growled at you in warning, frustrated to feel his composure wobble.

"Shit...you little-- got to keep to time--" Kento's arms shook as he completed the lift, resting the bar for a moment as he panted, and you rocked your hips against his thigh, pleasure immediately churning through you. Kento's jaw twitched, fists clenching and unclenching, determined to maintain his schedule, but feeling his body betray him, his cock twitching to life in his gym shorts.

Straight after, Kento reassured himself, fighting the urge to throw you over his shoulder, throw you onto the bed, and pound his cum into you until you begged for mercy, nearly done, keep to time, keep to time.

Kento's watch beeped, and he bolted to action, gripping the bar again, beginning another set of lifts-- anything to distract himself from you slipping your underwear to the side as you continued to rock your pussy, now wet and puffy, against his bare thigh. You sighed and keened, two hands planted for support on his hips, the palm of your hand brushing temptingly against his aching cock.

Kento groaned, unsure if it was from the painful stretch of the lift or from your desperate attention to his thigh, heat spreading across his shoulders and chest. His cock was throbbing now, uncomfortably tight in his shorts, pressed down at an awkward angle.

You watched Kento shift and twitch as you humped his thigh, and shivered with a sweet little moan as his muscles fluttered under your clit. Kento felt his throat go dry when your hands drifted lazily to pinch and roll your own nipples. He could feel you getting closer to orgasm, and it drove him mad that he wasn't filling your belly with his seed at the same time.

Leaning forwards, still panting, furiously rutting against Kento's thigh, drips of your arousal now running down the sides, you ghosted your hands over the outline of his cock. Kento gasped mid-lift, almost dropping the bar onto himself.

"Fuck--" he gasped, snapping your name. He hopped one hand centrally on the bars, and clapped his other hand over yours pressed to his erection, "--wait a few minutes or I swear, you're going to kill me--" Kento's words caught in his chest, his other hand darting up to stabilise the tilting bar, as you lowered his shorts, his cock springing free against his clenching abs.

With a lip-biting, devious smile, you waited until Kento had begun another lift, still stubbornly refusing to stop his workout, before grasping his cock, and laying a long, flat-tongued lick to the underside from ball to tip.

Kento cursed like a sailor, his elbows buckling, the bars lilting sideways with a metallic smash into the dock. Spitting curses at you, coming out of him in a series of growling chastisements, Kento coughed again, a spurt of pre-cum salting your tongue as you giggled around his needy cockhead.

Kento fumbled, lost in your wet little mouth sucking him in. He struggled to lift the bars again to place them in their dock, as your thighs cramped and trembled, approaching your orgasm.

His hands splayed above him like a surprised kitten, his chin to his chest as he stared down at you in fury and alarm, Kento groaned. His head snapped back to press to the bench, then back to his chest to watch your nose graze his honey-blonde hair again.

As he moved a hand down to tangle in your hair, colours popping in his eyes in ecstasy, you released his cock with a wet suck, mouth falling open as you came on his thigh. With one hand still gripping Kento by the cock, he bit into the back of his knuckles to stop himself from emptying into your hand.

Kento still glared at you in barely-restrained fury, for having nearly ended his life through means of a deadly benchpress, and opened his mouth to bark at you. His orgasm still threatened at the edge of a precipice.

"Not only am I now late," he growled, "you almost killed me-- I don't know which one is worse, I--"

When you moved up his body, straddling his hips and rolling your slick heat along his cock, Kento gripped the bars above him again for sanity, spitting feathers at you again, infuriatingly flustered.

"Thought if you were that strong," you panted, cheeks flushed and euphoric, "you could do both at once." Kento huffed at you again like an angry bull and, as if to prove a point, rolled the bar in his palms, shifting his shoulders, brick-like and tense, ready to begin another lift.

For a second time, as Kento moved into another benchpress, you raised yourself above his weeping cock, and sunk down onto his length, your wet walls plump and stretchy and inviting him to bottom out in one slick movement.

Kento moaned, his hips lifting you clear of the bench for a second as he brought the bar down to his chest, twitching and heaving with exertion and twisted pleasure. You stayed flush, rocking backwards and forwards, revelling in the fullness of him inside you, not pulling him out of you for a second.

Kento thought he had died and seen heaven when, the moment he pushed upwards to lift the weights off his chest, you leaned forwards and whispered up to him; "Hey, Kento-- I'm ovulating."

Kento came with a hoarse, wounded cry, everything pushing out of his body at once as he completed the lift, and his cum spurted up into you with mind-blowing force. Groaning a series of short, agonised groans, his cock still jumping and gushing, he slopped the bar back into the dock. You continued to rock his seed into you, eyes closed and a satisfied little smile on your face. Kento saw red.

You felt yourself being instantly grappled. Kento lifted your thighs up towards you enough that he could spin to you face the other way, his cock still plugging his cum inside you. Lifting you against him, locking your arms behind your head and your knees beside them, Kento dropped you both to the gym mat, completely restraining you in a full-nelson.

You squeaked, trying to squirm. It was absolutely futile, and you felt Kento's hot breath in your ear.

"Not that strong, hmm?" He hummed, low and threatening, "Strong enough to open your pickle jars for years though, apparently." You started to laugh, and cut off abruptly as Kento squeezed you tighter, chuckling as you squeaked again. His chuckle stretched into a groan, low and lusty, at the feeling of your pussy throbbing around his length, which had barely softened, and was rapidly hardening again.

Grappling you with his back to the floor, Kento shunted his cock up into you, satisfied at you crying out and pressing back against him; "Not that strong?" Kento planted a harsh kiss to your temple, and bucked up into you again, satisfied to feel you melt, helpless in his hold. Kento felt a lick of pride run through him as he continued to hammer upwards into you, the air filled with the squelch of his cock in your cum-filled cunt.

"Punched men through concrete-- haaah, shit-- crushed Curses under brick walls," Kento listed, grunting and ruthless as he slammed into you now, feeling his tip bully into your cervix, "and look at you now-- more origami than woman-- and you will take every-- fucking-- bit-- of --it--" Kento snapped his hips back to punctuate each word, and you mewled pitifully at him, tears streaking into your hair.

Kento laughed, feeling himself peaking again, licking your tears away with mock-gentle shushes, captivated by the way your tits bounced every time he rutted up into you.

"So-ooo-- good-- Kentooo-ooo," you squeaked out around his thrusts, a thick hot pleasure roiling in your womb as you begged him, "h--harder--please." Kento snorted, his hands gripping your thighs harder, lifting you off him to slap you back down in time with him pressing up into you. You shuddered, marshmallow-soft, twitching in pleasure as your second orgasm washed through your belly, ready to gulp Kento into you.

Kento was awash with the closeness of you, the delicious hot wet suck of your walls around his cock, the thought of you round and full and growing, because of him. Keeping you restrained with one thick forearm holding your thighs and arms back, his other hand drifted to your belly, pressing lightly, feeling the jolt as his cock rammed against your cervix.

Feeling your pussy squeeze and flutter around him, Kento's grip never faltered as he gasped, husky and satisfied, feeling his cock spurt inside you again, rolling you from side to side as he thrust lazily up into you, careful to not allow any of his seed to slip free. He lay with you in his arms for a few moments hand massaging your belly, willing his cum to soak up inside you.

With one final slow groan, Kento pulled out of you, pressing your thighs together on exit, and releasing you from the trap of his arms. Though you had planned to fall asleep, there and then, on the gym mats, Kento had other ideas.

You felt yourself being scooped up, held upside down against Kento by the waist, and he walked you to his pull-up bar across the room. You were appalled to feel him drape your legs over it, and as he let go of you, you were forced to hang upside down by the backs of your knees, a child on the monkey-bars.

"Kento!" You squeaked, appalled, cupping your breasts in your hands as he dusted off his hands and moved to settle himself again for benchpressing, "You-- how dare you-- you can't just hang me up like wet laundry!"

Kento hummed smilingly to himself as he checked his watch, reaching up to grip the bars again;

"Well darling, I've got a workout to finish. And you've got a baby to make. Isn't that what all this nonsense was about?"

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Up next: Ditch the Party Part 2 and more surprises

[evilminji]

O.O!!! :Dc wait a second.... Aquaman >.>

Good JOB Brain! That IS a good idea!

Don't know if YOU GUYS all know this? But Arthur? Son of a Lighthouse keeper and the Queen of Atlantis? THAT Arthur Curry aka. Orin? Has CONSIDERABLY enhanced durability. Like... *hit by a car* "ha. Cute." Enhanced.

It's because of the DEEP Sea water pressure he's built for.

I bring this up? Because the man is a legit BAMF. Absolutely TERRIFYING near any body of water. Dude has SUPER STRENGTH AND HYDROKINESIS. Not ONLY are YOU filled with water, but every street corner in the world has pipes! He is NEVER not armed.

That's not including the "yes I can ask a lobster to take your dick off" thing.

But most of all? He has the RAGE. The lifetime of injustice after injustice. His home under attack, his people suffering and regarded as LESS. The poison dumped into their air. Their lands taken, PRESUMED the property of land dwellers.

Treated as criminals and monsters should they DARE defend themselves.

Yet? He is a leader. A husband, father, mentor. The death of his child can not take from him that title. Nor years numb that pain. He strives to be good. Be wise. Live well.

Yet? There is once AGAIN fuckery in his ocean. Some "secret" lab. Poking at a swirling green portal. At the BOTTOM OF THE SEA. For God's sake, they DO REALIZE, you can't HIDE things from him down here, RIGHT?

It looks radioactive.

He refuses to have that so close to Atlantis.

Sends a notice up to the Watchtower, a call back to his Wife, and leads the gaurd team in. Painfully easy, really. Bog standard humans, caught off gaurd. Right until one of them does something... stupid.

He tries to blow the place. Destroy evidence. It would kill all of them. Which is not Arthur's main concern. No, what IS? Is that it would dump radioactive SOMETHING into the waters near Atlantis.

He dives forward. They struggle. A button is smashed and...

Their containment field drops.

They had been keeping it in a perfect vacuum.

Arthur is sucked in.

Watches, in free fall, as his men's faces turn to horror. As they desperately dive to follow him. Loyal. True. But ultimately too late. He curses himself as he loses sit of them. But forces himself to focus, twist, get his feet under him. His is in air, above LAND.

He hits HARD.

But not the ground like he had planned.

He's slamed, at an awkward, frantic, angle and knocked off course. His weight crashing down onto a scrawny slip of a boy, who weezes and struggles to get a proper grip. His arms not quite long enough to go all the way around his barrel of a chest.

He helps, by slinging an arm over his young savior.

Only then, does he notice, the tiny crown of ice and nebula, poking at a jaunty angle from the child's head.

Their landing would be rough, had Arthur not caught them, once he gets close enough to the ground. The young royal gasping for air, having clearly pushed his limits to get to Arthur in time. He hauls himself up. Not yet a man, but not as young as Arthur feared. His eyes glow.

"Hoooly SHIT. Are you okay?! I hit you really hard! I'm so, SO sorry! I panicked! And-"

Honestly? A little bruised. But nothings he's going to ADMIT too.

More concerning? The injuries.

There's a screech of tires turning sharp corners. Sirens getting closer. The young king whips around. Terror seeping onto his face. It gives Arthur an unobstructed view of pointed ears, softly glowing skin with star like freckles, and scars that creep up the child's neck. He does not like the picture being painted.

"We have to GO. Now. Please, I'll explain in a moment! But we have to go NOW!"

Really, REALLY does not like the picture. And he has WAYS of dealing with such things as this. But safety first. Prioritize the children. They go. He vows to get answers. And all around Amity? Certain individuals days are NUMBERED.

@babbling-babull @hdgnj @the-witchhunter @hypewinter @mutable-manifestation @lolottes @nerdpoe

[servicpop]

kinktober week 2 — edging & public/voyeurism(?) subby cole ( cowboy oc ) x bttm ( "showgirl" ) m reader

ⓘ voyeurism because cole is naked & outside , hand job ( cole receiving ) , he gets a cold from it

It was a quiet evening in Cole's hometown with you and him sat thigh to thigh on his plush swing chair out on the porch of his house. The streets weren't busy beside the occasional herder dog chasing after a stray sheep — to which you and Cole got a good laugh at.

This was the grace period of your work, no shows scheduled for the week, no meetings, and you were contact free from your boss. So, you spent the first day of the week travelling from the city to the countryside where Cole lived, and he was ecstatic seeing you again. You remember so vividly what happened when you showed up in the town. All the townsfolk practically knew every bit about you from how much Cole would talk about you and show off the polaroids you'd send to him via letters.

Asking where Cole was wasn't difficult since people were quick to usher you to Cole, leading you to the stables where he was tending the horses. The moment he saw you his eyes widened as if seeing an angel and he stumbled over his own boots from how fast he was running to you. He swooped you up in his arms and lifted you up from the ground almost cartoonishly with the way he nuzzled his face into you. Cole also spun you around a few times which undoubtedly made you feel a bit dizzy.

"Whaddaya smilin' so hard for, sugar?" Cole giggled at you smiling like an idiot; the laughter just bubbled out his throat. He leans his face closer to yours, only an eyelash away as he interrogates your random smile.

"Just thinking," you hum, still grinning ear to ear with your arms tangled and coiled around his. Cole doesn't believe you for a second and you can see it in the way one of his eyebrows raise. He moves in to brush his cheek against yours, cuddling up to you as the porch swing rocked delicately.

Cole's skin is more bronzed than before, his cheeks were dusted with sunkissed freckles, and his eyelashes seemed to have grown a bit longer, but his dimples never changed. Those dents in the side of his cheek always seemed to appear when you were around him.

You can feel his hands wrap around your waist a little tighter and your ears start to pick up Cole's slightly laboured breathing. You were about to ask if he was alright before you see him move his felt cattleman hat over his lap. That quirks your eyebrow.

"What's this?" You ask him with a playful chuckle, brushing your fingertips along the fabric of the hat.

"Don't stare sweets, it's just my body actin' up," He murmurs behind your shoulder, shrinking into the darkness between your back and the chair, "I'm embarrassed."

You giggle at his reaction; Cole is too pure for his own good. Your fingers slide underneath his hat, resting your hand on his inner thigh. "You don't have to be all shy, you know I won't judge," you coo, rubbing the fabric of his denim jeans lightly, but Cole squirms at the ticklish sensation nonetheless. His hand darts out to grip your forearm with shaky fingers like he was debating if he should actually stop you or not.

"Honey, not here," his voice almost reaches that whiny tone when he gets desperate for something. Despite his words, Cole doesn't even seem to notice his own hand guiding yours closer to his crotch. Its like he acts subconsciously, like its programmed into his brain to let you touch him. He lets out a small sigh of defeat, his head dropping back to rest on your shoulder as his hands move to clutch the top of his hat.

"Just— Just a little," his voice cracks and he's stuttering but you know that's his way of giving you the greenlight. You find your way to his belt buckle, slowly undoing it incase he wanted to back out and stop. He doesn't, so you slip off the belt and pull the zipper down.

Cole is hard. You see it through his light gray boxers, he's twitching, begging for you to give it some attention.

The cool breeze of the afternoon air reminds you that you're outside on his porch, nothing blocking his body but his hat. You glance up at Cole's face and it seems his cheeks have gotten significantly more pink and his pearly whites are caught onto his chapped, equally pink lip. There's a glossy sheen over them from saliva and you know its because he's been licking his lips repeatedly — a habit you've realised he does when he's flustered or nervous.

"You okay?" You giggle softly, shooting him a genuine look before stretching the fabric of his waistband down to rest below his aching dick.

"Yup, mighty fine darlin'." He's lying, and you know because Cole has his fist to his mouth and he's biting down on his pale skin to try and control himself. In reality, he's leaking all over your palm already, and his pale pink tip is dyed an angry red now.

You first use the tips of your fingers to cage around the base of his cock, dragging it all the way up lightly until it reaches the head. Cole is already whining and whimpering into his fist from the ticklish feeling. You see the slight tremble in his thighs when you slide your thumb around and over the slit of his tip, smearing his pre-cum everywhere.

"Oh, hellfire," he barks out but its more of a puppy's bark. The phrase 'hellfire' is an unfamiliar term for a city boy like yourself, but you're smart enough to understand that it's an old-timey phrase for a swear word. It's cute with the way he's crumbling at your hands but still makes an effort not to use "big city curses," as he calls it.

You finally move your hand to wrap around Cole's girth, stroking at a slow pace at first before increasing the speed. Its a vulgar sound from the lack of lube but his copious amounts of pre makes up for it. You feel every single vein throb at the feeling of your palm rubbing against it, pulsing with need.

"Hah, you're too good at this," he praises through a clenched jaw and laboured breaths. It isn't long before Cole catches your rhythm, bucking his hips up to match your hands. The porch swing rocks slightly more as he's thrusting up into your hand, his hat long gone as he's now fully exposed to those who walk by.

His moans become a little more throaty and you can tell he's enjoying it with the way his legs squirm as if he's being restrained from moving. Cole's eyes are screwed shut and his eyebrows are knitted together but his mouth slightly gapes into an 'o' shape, shamlessly letting out groans and whimpers.

Your fast paced stroking starts to slow down, and Cole's eyes fling open. "Wh–what are you doing?" He fluttered his thick eyelashes, looking down at your hand slowly pumping his cock. You don't respond to him, slowly increasing the pace but never speeding it up enough to tip him over the edge.

"Sweetheart, please." You swear you see tears brimming his eyes as he tries to move his hips to your hand and it does succeed for a bit. He's seeing stars as your hand just glides along his dick, feeling up every place that he's sensitive at. Its not enough though, your hand is barely squeezing him and it feels like a half-assed attempt to jerk him off.

"Baby, please just— clench your hand harder, please," he pleads, cupping your hand with his but he's so gentle with you it doesn't do anything. He's so close, he's teetering off the edge of an orgasm but he's not there yet. It almost hurts with how bad he wants to cum but he can't. Your hand ghost's over his tip and his body jerks forward from the touch but you pull away again and that heat in his stomach dies again.

He lets out a shaky breath of relief when he feels your hand clamp around him once more. Cole shoots you a glare, squeezing your hand tighter as if he's ensuring that you don't pull away again and mumbles, "I don't trust you no more."

You giggle and shake your head apologetically, "Sorry, sorry, I won't do it again," you promise, and you even bring your free hand to palm the tip of Cole's dick. He's whimpering again the second one of your hands is rubbing his head and the other is pumping his length.

His head is strewn back, adams apple bobbing at each harsh swallow. Cole feels your breath fan his tip and his eyes fling open, his whole body tensing as he watches you press a kiss to his red cockhead.

He orgasms right then and there, accidentally splashing your face with his seed.

"Ah— sorry 'bout that... you okay?"

You lift your head and Cole's hand wipes the cum off your face, "Maybe I deserved that," you chuckle. The sun had already disappeared behind the horizon and the streetlamps were starting to flicker on. Cole's shoulders jerk as he sneezes.

"Might've caught a cold from bein' out here, naked, all because of you," he huffs dramatically, pulling up his boxers and his jeans. "You gon' nurse me to heal if I do?" He flashes his teeth in a toothy smile and he has that post-orgasmic glow to his face.

"Yeah, yeah I will."