#ladies just wait for me good girl

[we-survive-endlessly]

Love that Mark keeps writing songs with lyrics that he would have trouble explaining in an interview. Very on brand.

[otaku553]

I got a haircut today and I’m so giddy about it,,,, it is so difficult to explain to my mom why I feel so giddy about the undercut sideburns I got

[sillyfudgemonkeys]

Omg...... Like Mother, Like Daughter is doomed Yuri (half yuri? One sided yuri?). TT0TT Sol doesn't feel the same way I'm pretty sure (sadly), but Som is DEF down bad. TT0TT And Som's not exactly the most mentally stable jakfjdksalfj (I think she has a bit of a "Sol's my pet" vibe going on as well. Som means well but she is NOT healthy either jfakslfj oh this is just going to be a fucking wreck I'm ready let's GO!)

(spoilers under cut, also under cut cause length and pictures)

Like she saw the boy Sol is hanging out with and was just ">:("

*sobbing* She is SO DONE when she finds out they are dating TT0TT

*sobs* ahhhh! klasjfdk OhmyGOAD SHE is tREMBLING as Sol tells her how she got with the guy TT0TT

She is literally SULLEN that Sol and guy have been dating FOR A MONTH! she looks os SICK TT0TT

My poor girl is literally doing the Arthur fist clench with her fist TT0TT

Som! Som! Girlie! I don't think this is just a friendship for you anymore.

LKFJDASKLFJKLAJFKL WAIT

"Anyone can see at first glance that he's good for nothing. But how does she not see that?"

OHHHHH MY GOD SHE'S LIEK 'HE SMELLY. HE STANK. HE POOR. HE BROKE. HE TOO NORMAL FOR HER." GURL! GET OFF THE FLOOOOOR!

"To be honest, I wish they'd break up" NO YOU DON'T SAY???? nEVER WOULD'VE GUESS!

Oh I was just here for the matricide but I've been blessed with more angst! Let's goooooo!!!!!!!!!

[variousqueerthings]

I note that I don't, and I never, was much of a fan of doctor-and-rose as romance, but that I -- rather than get annoyed at the romantic-coded scenes -- had a tendency to simply read them from a totally different perspective, and really maybe should have been a sign of sooomething different about me, that I continuously felt that the doctor's concepts of connection must be so alien, that to call it romance would be to diminish the actual Thing that they had, which was presented as such onscreen (to my mind then, now I realise what was happening, but I prefer what I had going on), which is basically that the doctor was a shell of a person, hurtling towards destruction (he would have died without rose in ep1), desperately lonely and sad and traumatised, and she retaught nine -- and by extension ten -- how to love the universe, at the same time as nine and ten taught her the same. (I think about the scene in father's day, where while they're arguing, rose says that she knows how sad he is, and he'll just hang around the tardis waiting for her -- she knew!)

and then on top of that with sarah-jane (which, I never watched the classics as a kid, so I didn't have that context for her beyond what the episode presented) it felt like that was sort of confirmed and made even more canon through this idea that the doctor is constantly mourning the inevitable deaths of their companions and would rather simply leave them behind at some point than watch that happen (and they've seen that happen before, although dying for a cause versus just... dying, because you die, while they don't, they just continue on and on, always seeking connection, always knowing that time will take them away, that's a whole other thing)

and then of course there's ten's... I would call it "sex appeal" because it's david tennant and with his performance there's immediately a bit of a focus on oh he's quite pretty and he faints/is knocked unconscious in both of his first episodes, and a lot more flirting, and the people want to see sparks or what have you... but the doctor as portrayed and written is still... not coming at it that way. yes yes girl in the fireplace but also, once again, doesn't work for me, because I find it soooo much more interesting that the doctor would imprint on A Life - and a life that they admire -- and speedrun the exact thing that they're most afraid of with their companions... that she ages and dies and it's the one thing that the doctor simply cannot stop

meanwhile rose is quite young and swept up in this whole massive adventure and very much reads the doctor not as an alien (frequently surprised by their alien-ness) and gets jealous of sarah-jane as if she's an ex, and renette as if she's... a replacement? but really it's more that the doctor met her at the point when she was about to accept her life as it was. not an exciting life, not a bad life, but always having to ignore the idea that there must be more to it than this. and the idea that she might be unceremoniously dumped back in that after seeing just how This the this could be, of course that's terrifying. and of course she's simultaneously taken with the dashing doctor and the jetset life, and worried she could be replaced, because to her the doctor saved her at 19 years old. in some ways the doctor created her (considering who she becomes after dooms day)

contrasted to martha who initially has a similar kind of experience, but the doctor doesn't meet her at the space she's in with them -- ten is leaning on her, like they did with rose, but not giving anything back unless kicking and screaming and traumatising her whole family. martha's trajectory is so so tragic, because she barely gets a taste of the splendor versus the horrors and the latter marks her for life. but she also knows to walk away from those overwhelming feelings, rather than give into them, she knows they'll never be rewarded and she also grows beyond wanting to be a crutch for the doctor (the fact that she then ends up as a soldier, well... ouch)

and then of course donna, who never has those fucking awe-feelings to begin with and whose connection with the doctor is explicitly de-romanticised but never placed on a lesser pedestal as if there's a hierarchy of alloromanticism. topples those pillars, never sees the doctor as anything but what the doctor is. good old donna. (sobs.) (but also... cautious hope for the specials.) (but also sobs.)

my point being. just don't buy alloromantic doctor, they're a near-immortal alien. it's such a dull simplistic way of reading their relationships to other beings. other point being. all those women who were making heart-eyes at ten, wish they'd met thirteen and had a... "yeah, this still works for me," moment. their horizons, too, are broadened by seeing More. (that or they realise they were never actually "in love" but just thought ten was a sexy skinny little snack and it blinded them.) (although jodie whittaker, too, is a snack.)

and lastly lastly ofc, is that if the doctor has a longterm (by doctor time measurement) intense relationship with anyone, whatever that might be called, it's the tardis. and that relationship is also so alien it cannot be quantified by human words for concepts

[raise-me-up-take-me-up]

i am 7 months late to Mark Lee's Golden Hour but OHHHH MY GOSHFKSDFHKDS!??!?!? i was scared it would be too gimmicky/memey like haha hey guys remember that funny meme that happened :D haha remember when gordon ramsey roasted my eggs :D guys :D but it just smashed it out of the PARK. filthy beat drops, the catchiest rap and the song just pulls you along. the instrumental on its own is just hypnotic. the music video is also just absolutely gorgeous. i couldnt find who directed/storyboarded/edited it but they did a great job at colour grading and just overall keeping the vibe coherent and strong. definitely will be looping it.

[gravelsong]

Recently dragged a friend into the wonderful world of gay robots and tonight we will be watching the first Bayverse movie to suffer

[lovelyhan]

mark lee's new song....

[ripley-ryan]

tattoo that says i <3 making friends. if my chosen career path did not rely on my appearance i would so get it. because truly i heart making friends

[salsakiyoomi]

sukuna never took himself as a doting man.

until you came along.

he's not sure when it started — whether it was when he first married you, a fragile, loving thing that it pulled at his heartstrings and instincts to protect you, or when you became pregnant with his child.

at first, neither of you knew you were pregnant, until your lady in waiting said that your cravings started to become more like a pregnant woman's than just normal cravings.

and then your belly started rounding, and that's when you knew.

and if you thought sukuna was overly protective at first, well then you thought wrong.

he started lingering more than usually when he first learned the news of your pregnancy, you barely had any alone time, either you were surrounded by him or uraume, his most trusted servant, to keep you safe from any harm.

you weren't exactly sure what kind of harm, all you knew was that he became a doting man, always one step ahead of you to keep you safe from any harm.

you were a fragile, loving thing meant to be kept safe after all.

“these are delicious.” you say, munching on a slice of mango.

“mhm.” sukuna hums, eyes not lifting up from the paper files at hand, “they’re imported.”

“really?” you say, “that's why they taste so good.”

he hums once more, setting the reports aside and turning to face you, eyes drifting to the corner of your lips where you have a few remnants of mango.

“you make a mess out of yourself.” he mumbles, holding your chin as he wipes the mango piece with his thumb.

“hmmm.” you hum, smiling at him, “you love me anyway.”

he scoffs, rolling his eyes as he licks his thumb clean, letting the sweet taste linger on his tongue.

“your cravings have gotten quite expensive.” he says, watching as you suck on whatever meat the mango seed had left on it.

“does expensive really matter to you?” you say, licking your lips, “you'd still get it for me anyway.” you smile sheepishly at him.

“unfortunately.” he agrees, sighing.

“and our child too.” you add, “do you think it’s a boy or girl?”

he shrugs, “not sure.”

“what do you want it to be?”

“does it really matter?” he asks, “we…we'd love them either way.”

your eyes widen slightly, surprised at the sudden vulnerable and loving words that's came out of him.

you laugh, “i suppose you're right.”

he hums once more in response, wrapping an arm around you.

sukuna became a doting man ever since he found out about your pregnancy, and he was sure to become even more doting once his child comes to life.

[elorday]

You raise your chin, “Pār gūrogon issa naejot zaldrīzesdōron se mazverdagon issa aōha ābrazȳrys.” 

EXCUSE ME??????? TAKE ME TO DRAGONSTONE AND MAKE ME YOUR WIFE?????? WHAAAATTTT?????

the situation between them and finally with the love confession?? my, i'm unwell.

their love is based on duty but oh loooovee... her deja vu of his words and finally their dance. LIKE OH *faints*

(her valyrian lines is so good tho i'm squealing.)

love and war ↝ aemond targaryen x reader

you treat marriage as if it is war. who’s to say it’s not?

pairing: aemond targaryen x fem!velaryon!reader (she/her pronouns)

warnings: cursing, targcest, reader is rhaenyra and laenor’s daughter but there are no physical descriptions. my first hotd fic pls be kind

word count: 5k words

my masterlist

You should be mourning. Truth be told, you were— an aching sadness that left you hollow as the adults paced around the room, grief heavy in the air with the loss of your Grandfather, the King. But the fear swirling in your gut overpowered sadness.

You were not oblivious to the opinions of the court, even if you yourself were not involved in it as much. Your mother’s rule has been challenged enough even when the King was alive and now the long awaited storm brewing from before might finally arrive to blow your family over.

Your mother is a strong woman, a true protector of the realm, but as you glance over at where she is stood by a window next to Alicent Hightower as they engage in a hushed conversation, you know that everyone, even her, is nervous for how the kingdoms may react to a woman ascending the Iron Throne.

Keep reading

[lilreidgirl]

Do I wanna know?

Summary: You and Drew are best friends, but you want more. What happens when you get invited to a day out on Drew’s friend’s yacht and get more?

Warnings: MDNI(18+), fem!reader, thigh riding, daddy kink, nicknames used (princess, baby, little lady, good girl…), kissing, alcohol (beer), swearing, no use of (y/n), reader wears a skirt, shy!reader, pining amongst friends, English is not my first language, if I forgot anything; please let me know!!

WC: ~2.4k (no idea how that happened)

A/N: I got inspired by this photo so I wrote this at like 2 am and I’m posting it now at 5 am, this is a mess, gn my loves (NOT PROOF READ, SORRY) (also this is my first fic about Drew so yeah)

When your best friend, Drew Starkey, invited you to a small get together on his friend’s yacht, you were more than willing to go. You and him had been friends since years, getting to know each other through mutual friends and suddenly you were eating take out with a b-list celebrity every other night.

You twirled around in front of your full body sized mirror, watching with amusement as your skirt twirls with you, the ruffles bouncing as they fluttered in the wind.

“Wow. Really doesn’t take much to get a smile on that pretty little face of yours, huh?” Drew chuckled as he watched you spin around.

Startled by his voice you stopped your little turns, looking at him with a small playful glare when the dizzy fog finally cleared from your vision.

“I’m just a happy person. You should try it sometime” you shot back, but you knew it was no use. Drew was great at talking, arguing, whatever. He was great with people in a way you just couldn’t figure out for yourself.

But honestly? You were fine just standing on the sidelines watching him do his thing, waiting for him to abandon that and come talk to you for a bit.

You had been fine with it.

Lately every time he laughed and grinned at one of your sarcastic comments and every time he stared at you like he was a theoretical physicist and you had the answers to string theory, you couldn’t help but want more. Couldn’t help but want that “best friend” status to be upgraded to “girlfriend”. Hell, you even dreamt of being called his wife.

For now though, you were just going to try and enjoy the day on a luxurious boat.

Soon you found yourselves in the car. You clicked on random songs on your phone and sand along to the “wait, this is the best part, shut up”’s before yet again changing the song as Drew drove to the harbour, admiring the way you seemed so enthralled by the different songs and music.

“Would love to continue listening to your big world tour concert, little lady, but we’re here,” he announced once he’d gotten the car carefully parked.

Excitedly, you jumped out of Drew’s car, watching as he did the same before you both made your way closer to the water where many ships floated atop the sea.

At the same time, you both spotted Drew’s group of friends, waving at them as they saw you two as well.

You’d gotten to know them a bit but the amount of group hangouts you attended, didn’t really allow you to form a strong bond to any of Drew’s friends.

What can you say?

You’re just not a people person.

You’re a person person.

A Drew person.

You squashed the ridiculous thought, giggling it off before you checked that your outfit was neatly in order.

Upon seeing you inspecting your clothes, Drew leaned down and whispered in your ear, his breath tantalizingly brushed against your ear and neck as he spoke, “You look amazing, baby, don’t worry.”

As you reached the boat, the smile you had shared for a few enchanting seconds came to a sudden end.

“Hey, Drew!” Various different voices greeted the both of you and you both returned the favour with just as much enthusiasm.

One of the guys, the one whose yacht it was presumably, invited everyone aboard.

Your eyes flitted to everything around you, spotting a few seats, some complicated looking boat equipment and random day-to-day fun stuff lying around.

The smell of fish and sea breeze filled the air and your nostrils, but that scent quickly evaporated when Drew stepped next to you, finally finished with catching up with his friend and was now holding out a beer bottle for you to take. His cologne took over, overwhelming your senses. Something you were definitely not complaining about.

You accepted the beer from him, taking a sip before handing it back to him and watching as he repeated your action of drinking from the bottle.

Your gaze drifted to his Adam’s apple as it bobs when he took gulps of the alcoholic drink. He lowered the glass container from his lips, putting his strong bicep right in your line of sight.

As embarrassing as it is to admit you could have almost moaned from just looking at his muscly arm.

He must have taken off his shirt sometime between helping you up the steps on the side of the ship, his hand securely wrapped around your thigh to keep you from falling, and when he seemingly appeared behind you as you admired your surroundings.

Then your eyes found his chest, strong pecs priding over his abs that seemed carved from the very marble that Michelangelo had used to sculpt David, each muscle defined with an almost perfect precision to it.

Just before you could take a good look at his black swim shorts hanging off his hips and hugging his beefy thighs, his voice called your name.

“Hey, come on, picture time,” he reiterated what he had said when you were still zoned out.

“Oh. Okay,” Throwing your thoughts back into reality, you watched as everyone made their way over to the discussed upon place where the photo would be taken.

“Who wants to set the timer?” A girl, who you’d forgotten the name of, asked.

Something with an F? L? A? Who cares.

“Not it!” Was called by everyone but you, your face quickly morphing from a surprised look of “who the hell still uses ‘not it’?” to an accepting face that you were in fact “it”.

The girls and boys all took their places on the netting of the boat. The 5 people in front of you got ready to pose for the group photo.

Efficiently, you adjusted the tripod so that the camera of the phone pointed perfectly towards the centre of everyone.

You bent down, looking at the screen of the mobile. You saw Drew depicted by many pixels, your thighs clenching when he moved his hips up to readjust his position on the midnight blue blanket that lay sprawled over the rough nylon net.

Fuck, he was perfect.

Of course, you fixed your hair one last time before pressing the white button on the right side of the device, starting the 10 second countdown until the picture.

Swiftly, you made your way around the tripod, and plopped down onto the free space between a dark haired guy, you’ve come to know as Matthew, and Drew. You smiled sweetly at the round circles on the back of the phone as Drew slung an arm around your shoulders.

Once the photo was taken, everyone scattered and the usual chatter was back. You ran up to the phone and you looked at the image.

Well fuck.

Drew looked absolutely freaking ethereal.

His sitting in a reclined position with one leg bent and the other stretched out, manspreading, almost made you go feral. He was smiling widely toward the camera, his impossibly bright grin attracting all the attention in the photo.

His body looked like a dream. For a moment, you thought maybe you were dreaming, if you were you would hold onto the memory of the photo, even if it was just a dream, for the rest of your life.

God, pining for your hot best friend made you sound so so pathetic.

The thought that what you were experiencing was just a dream was snapped in two like a twig when Drew came up from behind you and flicked your bare back.

“Ouch!” You exclaimed, a frown forming on your face.

“‘M sorry, princess,” he swung his arms over your shoulders, holding on to you from behind like a koala would his mother, peering at the screen in your hands.

“Did it turn out good?” He asked casually, acting as if he didn’t see how your face was blushing an awfully deep shade of red and don’t even start to think that he missed the way you were obviously turned on.

“Yup,” you answered curtly, ducking down to be released of any physical contact with him, because you felt as if you would melt if he touched you a second longer.

“I’m um… gonna go below deck. The sun uh- it’s hitting me pretty hard right now. I have a headache,” you lied, coming up with some excuse to just get yourself somewhere where you can have your alone time.

“O…kay…” He didn’t seem convinced but that wasn’t for you to deal with in that moment. You made your way down the stairs leading below the deck of the ship, the room was nice and cozy.

With a sigh of relief you sat down on a wooden bench near the kitchen and slipped your phone out of your purse.

After a few minutes of mindlessly scrolling through various social media apps you heard footsteps nearing you, causing you to look up.

Your eyes met none other than Drew Starkey himself.

“On your phone when you have a headache? Really?” He asked unamused. “You lyin’ about the headache or you just stupid?”

“Stupid…?” you offered in a quiet meek voice.

“C’mon, sweetheart, what’s the problem, huh? You don’t like my friends or something?” He questioned as he sat himself down next to you on the oak plank.

“No, no, they’re great, I just…” You really should have been able to come up with something to say but the way his forearm was flexing as it rested on his thigh distracted you.

A smirk grew on Drew’s face. “No yeah, I uh-“ he chucked as he shook his head in what looked like slight disbelief, “I know.”

Unsure of the true meaning behind his comment you averted your eyes to the floor, focusing on the swaying of the boat on the water instead of Drew’s piercing blue eyes staring intently at you.

He leaned back with a sigh, his legs spreading wider and his arm sneaking behind your back and around your waist. “You’re kind of ridiculous, you know that?”

All you could do was nod which earned you yet another laugh from Drew.

Just as you were about to persuade yourself to actually speak, you were pulled onto Drew’s lap by his arm, his hands quickly settling you on his thighs.

“Wha-“

“I know, princess,” he cooed.

You know you should have felt at least slightly degraded or mad because of his tone but the only thing it did, was make you want to clench your thighs together. Which of course wasn’t possible because each of your legs rested on different sides of Drew.

“You look so pretty today, baby,” he said, tucking some loose strands of hair behind your ear before moving his face down to your neck and pressing soft, fleeting, sensational kisses to the side of your collar.

Your breathing became panted and you unintentionally slowly rubbed your core along the material of his pitch black swim trunks.

“Not even a thank you?” He murmured teasingly as his kisses walked over to the area right under your ear and his large hands gripped your hips harshly, stopping you from any further movement.

“Th- thank you…” You whispered, your tone dipped and coated in your lust and arousal.

You felt a small nip on your throat that made you let out a small “Ah-!”

“Thank you…?” He muttered expectantly.

“Sir?” You tried, getting your confirmation of that being the wrong answer when a more harsh bite was left just under your jawline.

“Daddy..” you practically moaned out, the small pleasure that you got from the bites making you rut against Drew’s strong hold on your body.

“Good girl…” he praised, his face finally coming up to meet yours, kissing you softly but also at the same time with an unforeseeable force.

His fingers stopped drilling into the skin over your hipbones, letting you push your aching core down onto his covered thigh.

He broke the kiss, his plump lips and hot breath trailing over your cheek as you both gasped from air.

His hand roughly grabbed the back of your head, wrapping his fingers around your messy hair, holding you tight against him.

Immediately after, his other hand took hold of your hip again, helping you grind down on his swim pants.

“That’s right, baby, use daddy’s leg,” he breathed out heavily.

“Such,” he pressed a sloppy kiss to your jawline, “a,” another kiss was placed on the corner of your mouth, “good,” he said before pecking your lips, “girl,” he murmured into your mouth before shoving his tongue down your throat.

The press of his thigh onto your bikini bottom made a perfect friction emerge against your clit, sending jolts of pleasure through you.

“What about-“ you started.

“I locked the door, sweetheart, no worries.”

The way he basically read your mind made you feel even more turned on.

Your folds rubbed back and forth in your

soaking wet swim bottoms as you gripped Drew’s shoulders tightly, eyes squeezed shut as he continued to spew out praise after praise to you.

Suddenly a knock resounded throughout the room, a sudden halt coming to your despicable actions.

“Hello? Anyone in here? Why is the door locked?” A female voice asked from the other side of the door.

“One second!” Drew called before returning his attention to you.

“We’ll finish this later, yeah?” All you could do was nod, still completely dazed.

He picked you up off his lap, helping you settle back into a standing position and smoothing out both of your guys’ clothes.

With a casual smile on his face he unlocked and opened the door, spouting out some excuse for the door being locked before leading you upstairs with him.

For the rest of the afternoon, you sat, with a drink in hand, watching Drew talk amongst his friends, his eyes flicking to you every once in a short while.

Once other people started leaving and the sun started setting, he walked up to you.

“Ready to leave, princess?”

“Uh-huh,” you uttered out, standing up and saying your goodbyes to everyone that still found themselves on the yacht.

As you walked down the dock, admiring the sunset, you gripped onto Drew’s arm.

“Everything okay?” He asked.

You looked up at him with an “Are you serious?” face, annoyed at his nonchalant antics.

“Gee, sorry, okay?” He chuckled.

“I’ll make you feel good soon. Don’t worry, little lady.”

@emma-e-a

[pomegranatesarchive]

Hi can u do a smau with max where reader is a doc for f1 and when max unfortunately has an accident she is one of the first responders(dont know what they are called!!!) And he just stares at her and its like love at first sight for him(he fell first and HARDER!!!!!) and everyone online could see it as well

Some teasing from other drivers as well

And proceed how u deem fit

Loved the sister in law one!!!!!!!

doctor lady | max verstappen

pairing: max verstappen x doctor!reader

summary: max never thought he would be happy getting a injury that puts him out of racing for three months, but when he has a doctor like you? he can’t help but be a little happy.

liked by landonorris, yourusername, charles_leclerc, and 816,074 others!

maxverstappen1: we are allllm good guys!!!!!!!!!!!!! we are aliveee wnd well babybyvy 🤘AND me and lanHOE (becuare he id a BOE) got a pretty doctory lady 🥰🥰🥰 she’s sooooooooioiiooooo nice and prety AND she made us NOT feel pain so we love her 😍😍😍😍😍

view comments below!

user1: they got him on those GOOD painkillers

user2: we’ve seen drunk max, but drugged max? a whole new level

landonorris: guy our lady doctor is soilioooooooooo prety 😍

maxverstappen1: HEY NO 😡😡 i alreadys called dibs!!!!!! she’s MY prety doctor lady. she game ME her instagran and i’m takin HER on a date!

yourusername: if my supervisor is reading this, i gave him my instagram and agreed going on a date with him because he was being difficult, started crying, and wouldn’t take his medication until i did.

maxverstappen1: HELLO MY BEAUTIFUL LOVE

user2: started crying??? max verstappen started crying???

user3: pain meds do that to you 🤕

user4: i need a video of that right now

user5: he is out of IT. i can’t wait till he wakes up and realizes what he’s done

charles_leclerc: happy you’re okay mate!

maxverstappen1: oh charles i have missed you dearly 🥰🥰 so happy you got 1st!!!!!!!

charles_leclerc: thank you max ❤️

maxverstappen1: i can wait for you to meet my future wife!!!!!!!! you’ll love her! she saved me life ❤️

charles_leclerc: someone please take his phone away

maxverstappen1: NOOOOO I JUST WANT TO TALK ABOUT MY FUTURE WIFR 😡

user6: max, charles is just trying to save you from the embarrassment

user7: when he sobers up, he either won’t give a shit and continue OR he’ll be so embarrassed and he’ll never show his face again

yourusername: everyone, please don’t pay mind to max, he is under very heavy drugs, and is not in a right state of mind. we have tried confiscating his phone, but he starts kicking and becomes difficult.

user8: i know this girl is scared for her job 😭

user9: having max as a drugged out patient seems horrible

user10: literal nightmare material

maxverstappen1: MYYY LOVVER HELLO

user11: good lord #freeyn

danielricciardo: i would say, i hope you recover, but i have a feeling you don’t want to recover?

maxverstappen1: I DONTTTT I NEVER EANT TO RECIVER BECAUSE THAT MEANS NOT SEEING MY BEAUTIFUL LADY DOCTOR SO NO!!! NO RECOVERY FOR ME

danielricciardo: screenshotting all of this for later 🤣

landonorris: i’m hungry, maxie can you tell lady doctor i’m hungry?

yourusername: you can talk to me lando. i’ll go get you something.

landonorris: NOOOO I CABR TALK TO THE LADY DOCTOR MAX SAID I CANT AND HE DAID IF I DID HESS GOING TO KILL ME AND I DONT WANT TO BE KILLED AHHHH

maxverstappen1: YOU FONT GET TO TALK TO MY PRETTY DOCTOR LADY IM GOING TO JILL YLY LANDO

user12: this is genuinely like the funniest shit ever 😭

user13: can’t believe in 10 years from now we’re going to look back at this and laugh

user14: 10 years?? bitch im LAUGHING RIGHT NOW

redbullracing; speedy recovery max! 💓

maxverstappen1: NOOOO NO SPEEDY RECOVERY NO RECOVERY FOR MAX

user15: head injury so bad he lost his love for racing

user16: on a serious note, his injury’s did seem pretty bad, especially his leg…

user17: honestly i’d be surprised if he returned to racing immediately

landonorris: maxie and me got separated :(((( 😞☹️😕😭🥺 lady doctor is is MEAN

yourusername: you two were arguing and disturbing the other patients.

maxverstappen1: DONT CALL MY LADY DOTCIT MEAN!!!!

user18: went from being worried to laughing out loud because wtf is this??

user27; lando and max crashing was NOT on my 2024 bingo card

user28: f1 having a big crash was not on MY 2024 bingo card

liked by maxverstappen1, yourusername, landonorris, 619,027 others!

redbullracing: unfortunately, due to last weeks crash regarding lando norris and max verstappen. max has been forced to take a three month leave of absence from racing, as he has severely fractured his lower leg. he has immediately started physical therapy, let’s wish him a speedy recovery ❤️‍🩹

view comments below!

maxverstappen1: what a shame 😕 truly saddened by this outcome 😞

user19: what??

landonorris: take a wild guess as to who’s going to be his doctor for three months?

user20: PRETTY LADY DOCTOR???

maxverstappen1: maybe 🥰

user21: we’ve entered the era where max does not gaf about racing as long as he gets to see yn

user22: does this mean he’s not winning the wdc?

user23: he still can, he just has to win basically every race after the 3 months, which isn’t exactly impossible for him

charles_leclerc; so sad for max!

user24: your ass does not feel sad for max 😭

user25: he has his eyes on the wdc!!!

user26: HE ACTUALLY HAS A CHANCE TO WIN BOW

maxverstappen1: @/yourusername, ready to take care of me for 3 months :D

yourusername: no

maxverstappen1: 😕

user27: HAHAHA

danielricciardo: LOSER

landonorris: HAHAH GET REJECTED

charles_leclerc: EMBARRASSING

oscarpiastri: that hurt to read

maxverstappen1: SHUT UP WHO ASKED YOU

user28: tbh i wouldn’t be excited to have max as a patient for 3 whole months with how he acted that night in the emergency room

user29: that man is secretly crazy and you can’t convince me otherwise

user30: i love how max is clearly like head over heels for yn, but she can’t date him because he’s her patient 😭

user31: she can’t?

user30: NO!!! that’s unethical, she can date him after the 3 months but not during

user32: that not being common knowledge to some people is concerning…

liked by landonorris, charles_leclerc, yourusername, and 917,027 others!

maxverstappen1: day one of physical therapy a success ✅

view comments below!

landonorris: so, how many times did she reject you today?

maxverstappen1: ZERO.

yourusername: 10**

landonorris: TENN??????

maxverstappen1: i just don’t understand why she won’t say yes 😞

yourusername: because it’s severely unethical and will get me fired

maxverstappen1: so what i’m hearing is that you’ll go out with me when i’m no longer your patient?

user33: let the countdown begin

charles_leclerc: missed you at the race today!

maxverstappen1: no you didn’t

charles_leclerc: no i didn’t! MAX IT FEELS SO GOOD TOO WIN

maxverstappen1: yeah i KNOW.

yourusername: don’t worry charles, he was watching you during his whole therapy session, and cheered so loudly when you won that we got complains from patients on the other side of the building!

charles_leclerc: I KNEW IT!!!

maxverstappen1: you said you wouldn’t tell anyone yn 😕

user34: it’s so…unsettling seeing max be so publicly affectionate

user35: RIGHT?? like why is he so open about this??

user36: he has no shame…

yourusername: i told you to stop taking pictures of me while i’m working

maxverstappen1: but you just look sooooo pretty

danielricciardo: she doesn’t want you bro

maxverstappen1: SHUT UP

user37: she’s stronger then me, because if i had max verstappen down bad like that?

user38: no literally, i would’ve made him mine the same day we met

user39: why is max posting regular pictures?? it’s weird

user40: he’s trying to impress yn

user39: well he’s going about it all wrong. because these photos just don’t match?? cat, hospital, and then a crappy photo of a therapy room?? horrible horrible HORRIBLE

user41: damn…

liked by yourusername, landonorris, and 619,017 others!

maxverstappen1: 2 months down…1 more to go!

view comments below!

user42: HE IS COUNTING DOWN

user43: WE KNEW IT!!!

landonorris: i can’t belive you tricked me into going to a photo shoot for you

maxverstappen1: that is not what happened.

landonorris: you told me we were going golfing, next thing i know i’m watching you get your picture taken like 92884 times 😑

maxverstappen1: just say your jealous

landonorris: OF WHAT???

user44: he’s getting better at being aesthetic

user45: he’s learning!!

user46: are we all going to skip past the fact that max, a hater of everything, had a whole as photo shoot for his instagram?????

maxverstappen1: yn told me i should post more photos of myself for the instagram

user47: so you had a whole photo shoot????

maxverstappen1: yes

user48: oh he’s in love

danielricciardo: looking good max 😍

maxverstappen1; thank you for the support daniel!

landonorris: was that a dig to me?

maxverstappen1: yes.

landonorris: I WAS EXPECTING GOLF

yourusername: looking good max

maxverstappen1: really??? you really think so??

yourusername: yes (with the upmost professionalism)

maxverstappen1: 🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰

user49: why did max just add “yn thinks i look good 🥰” to his bio

user50: LMAOO I THOUGHT YOU WERE JOKING???

user49: no 😭 he very literally put “yn thinks i look good 🥰” in his bio

user51: why does it look like max is in the doctor training room?

maxverstappen1: because i am!!

user51: THEY LET YOU IN THERE????

yourusername: my boss is a huge f1 fan. so he lets max do whatever he wants 🙄

user51: i’m sorry that’s so funny 😭

user52: does max just follow her around all day??

yourusername: pretty much, yeah

user53: you have no idea how much i want to be you

charles_leclerc: wow max looking good

maxverstappen1: thank you charles

charles_leclerc: aren’t you going to put “charles thinks i look good” in your bio?

maxverstappen1: i don’t care about you enough for that

user54: DAMN THATS COLD

user55: those cats are so cute 🥺

. . .

. . .

liked by yourusername, landonorris, and 914,078 others!

maxverstappen1: guys i did!!!! i got a date with the pretty doctor lady 🥰🥰

view comments below!

user56: when he falls first and harder >>

user57; this man is literally obsessed with yn it’s insane

landonorris: beat me too it

landonorris: THIS IS A JOKE PLEASE DONT KILL ME

maxverstappen1: nothing funny. i didn’t laugh. you aren’t funny.

landonorris: 😕

user58: WE CHEERED!!!

user59: i still think it would be funny if she just said no even after the 3 months

yourusername; i thought about it, but he’s rich and pretty so 🤷‍♀️

maxverstappen1: pretty :D

user60: she’s so pretty

maxverstappen1: like i’ve been SAYING.

user61: i’ve never seen a man so down bad before

user62: it’s unnerving

user63: a doctor, pretty, and funny?? max hit the jackpot

user64: they both hit the jackpot 😒 it pisses me off

user65: LMAO WHY??

user64: seeing people live the life i want makes me unexplainably mad

danielricciardo: you’re joking right? she’s not actually dating you?

maxverstappen1: what’s that supposed to mean

danielricciardo: it means she’s too good for you @/yourusername are you being held hostage

yourusername; yes

danielricciardo: OH I KNEW IT. DONT WORRY HELP IS ON THE WAY

maxverstappen1: you guys are mean.

yourusername: this means i can never be your doctor again

maxverstappen1: what if once day, on my way home i crash, and its a big crash with smoke and fire, and i get taken to the hospital but i refuse to let anyone touch me that isn’t you, would you still not help me?

yourusername: there’s just something so undiagnosed about you

user65: HAHAHA

user66: max is just so unexplainable

charles_leclerc: are my eyes deceiving me or did she finally say yes 

maxverstappen1: SHE SAID YES

charles_leclerc: OH YEAH OH YEAH I KNEW YOU COULD DO IT BUDDY

maxverstappen1: OH YEAH OH YEAH

user67: my lestappen heart 💔

. . .

notes: enjoy this while i spend the rest of my night learning how to play the sims

thank you for requesting!!

[swordgrace]

𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐎𝐑 𝐃𝐄𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐒.

༆ jacaerys velaryon x fem!reader.

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

note: jacaerys is nineteen, reader is eighteen.

༆ 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐓𝐖𝐎 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄.

༆ 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄.

{ FORMAT: one shot — requested.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He intended to do just that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You saw Jacaerys himself, doe-eyed and magnificent.

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

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

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

That is what he meant.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[tender-rosiey]

“GOOD! NOW PUNCH HIS FACE!”

— when your baby and gojo, geto, nanami, toji, and sukuna get protective over you (f!reader)

a/n: I am alive!! as an apology here is a multi-character post 🙏 btw in toji's part, you're megumi's mom

GOJO SATORU:

two peas in a pod, twins, copies: these are all things people have called your husband and son.

honestly, they’re not wrong. your son has his father’s looks—satoru swears he has your nose and ears but anyway—and he carries the same protectiveness and love he holds for you, if not amplified.

you can’t count on one hand the amount of times the house has been turned upside down because of their fights for a cuddle session with you.

of course, you have always tried suggesting them simply sharing you, but these problem children would rather eat raw zucchini than ever share the cuddle time.

so while your son is barely six, you can still count on him to team up with satoru against anyone who wrongs you in anyway like what’s happening right now for example.

you’re out with your lovely family to buy some groceries, and since they both were whining about getting some sweets, you allowed them to go and snatch a couple from the next aisle.

on the other hand, you stayed to look for another type of detergent to clean the floor—especially since satoru got this new type of paint for s/n and it’s quite an endeavor to remove it with a regular detergent.

however, being in the cleaning supplies section never guaranteed the lack of filthy men who can’t take no for an answer. this one man approaches you, smug grin on his face as he leans on the wall, “what’s a pretty lady like you doing alone?”

“buying groceries like a normal person; now please leave me alone.”

he quickly frowns, “don’t be so stingy doll,” his hand extends towards your arm, “I can show you a good time; I promise—“

the man is swiftly smacked with an egg on his face, and he is left with the egg dripping down his face, “what’s your wrong with your kid, man?!” he yells at the person behind you.

he then grumbles, “ruined a potential good night.”

“my kid was absolutely right in what he did,” you hear satoru’s voice. you then feel a hand on your shoulder, and you’re pulled into a chest you’re all too familiar with, “’toru—“

your husband shoots a small smile your way, pressing a quick kiss to your lips, before looking at his son, “that last throw was very good, s/n! throw another one but just below his stomach."

a cheshire cat-like grin is plastered on your husband’s face as s/n prepares to launch another egg at the man.

there is a very evident scowl on your son’s face as he yells, “don’t you ever bother mama again, you stinky bum crumb!”

the man gasps and tries to make a run for it, but your son wouldn’t be the son of gojo satoru if he doesn’t manage to land the hit exactly where he wants.

the man quickly crumbles to the ground screaming and alerting literally everyone in the store.

so satoru picks both you and s/n and makes a run for it.

you hold tightly onto him, “wait, ‘toru, the groceries!”

“we can always order! saving my princess and son is more important!”

your son grumbles, “but I want to hit the rude man!”

“me too, champ, but—“ satoru sweat-drops and glances behind him, “I doubt the angry security guards would like that!”

GETO SUGURU:

your twin girls are one of the sassiest to exist.

in a way, they take after their father who is also pretty sassy but very low-key.

the sass of all three combined is terrible to be the victim of. luckily for you, they don’t dare direct their triple ray towards you, especially—in any argument—at least one will try to win you over.

if it’s suguru trying to stay on your good side, then he is hugging you from behind, pressing feather-like kisses on your shoulder and whispering about how sweet you are. if it’s the girls, then they cling to your legs and keep yelling about how much they love you.

so it is safe to say that you have a small squad to protect you from any potential “danger”.

“oh my, dear shouldn’t you focus on refining yourself a bit more?” you hear a woman say beside you.

you turn towards her, offended, “excuse me?”

“I mean,” her eyes scan you, disapprovingly, “you look average at best, and with that you won’t be able to find yourself a husband, let alone have children.”

you’re still processing her audacity as she continues, “but then again, it’s probably for the better that you don’t have children; you can barely take care of yourself.”

“can I help you?” your husband says as he approaches the woman.

she smiles condescendingly before chuckling, “I was simply telling this lady to take care of herself more; she hardly looks presentable.”

geto’s smiles tenses up as he is about to give the woman a calm peace of his mind, but his daughters beat him to it.

your older twin stands in front of the woman, scanning her with pure disgust in her eyes.

she grimaces and voices out her thoughts, “you are like a crunchy lizard.”

the woman gasps, “how dare you—!”

you cut off the woman, curious about your daughter’s conclusion, “why a crunchy lizard, sweetheart?”

your daughter looks at you with a small frown, shaking her head, “a crunchy lizard is an ugly sad lizard.”

a snort escapes your husband, and you’re barely able to contain your smile.

your other daughter follows up, looking at her twin sister, “the lady looks like that one green thingy we saw yesterday,” she taps her little foot, trying to remember and beams at the woman, “shrek! you look like shrek!”

then they both glare at her, frowning, “you’re a monkey!”

your husband doesn’t let it go as he deals the final—subtle—blow, “come on now girls; we shouldn’t bully the lady with the mcdonald’s like hairline anymore.”

it seems like the woman can’t take it anymore as she starts sobbing and running to the hills.

a moment of silence is shared across the four of you, before you carry both of your girls in your arms and start tickling them, “I don’t know whether to be proud of you or scold you, little evil girls!”

they squeal, trying to escape your hold and calling for their father.

geto chuckles and wraps his arms around the three of you, “let them have it for tonight, y/n,” he ruffles their hair, “they were brave and defended their mom, after all.”

“yeah, papa is right!”

“yes mama, please!”

you pout then smirk at geto, “well I don’t mind, and since papa is also very proud of you girls, he will buy any toy that you guys want today!”

the color drains from your husband’s face, and he watches motionlessly as his girls latch onto him, screaming about the toys they want.

you giggle at his expression and blow him a kiss. he reluctantly blows you one back, while the girls excitedly pull him towards the toy store.

NANAMI KENTO:

you and your husband were blessed with the sweetest girl as your daughter, and she was just recently joined by another sweet girl.

you can never forget the happiness on your daughter’s face when she saw her baby sister.

it also seems that no matter how many times you give birth, your husband can’t help but get emotional when he holds your baby. his hands are forever delicate as he cradles her to his chest.

you remember what he said during the birth of your first daughter.

“I feel like a piece of heaven has been plucked and placed in my arms.”

the way he always goes soft for the three of you is honestly adorable.

today, you were going on an outing with your—now 6 months old—baby and your older daughter who is almost six.

your husband never brags about his muscular form, but he never misses a chance to carry the baby or the baby supplies.

you have offered to at least carry the bag, but he always refuses, stating that ‘you already carried the baby for nine entire months in your belly; this is the least I can do.’

so yeah, sometimes you wish to smooch your husband till forever, but that’s not the point.

you’re walking hand in hand with your daughter as she sings her favorite song. you hear someone click their tongue, so you look to the side and lock eyes with an old lady. she takes the opportunity and approaches you.

“you should be ashamed of yourself!” she yells pointing at you, “your husband shouldn’t be carrying the baby supplies nor the baby itself for the matter,” she scowls, “that’s your job!”

“with all due respect ma’am, but that isn’t her job, and taking care of the baby should be something we are both responsible for.”

“yeah!” your daughter huffs, “and don’t take out your sad life on my mama!”

your eyes widen as you stare at your daughter.

on the other side, your husband is just as speechless. your daughter pays no one any mind as she continues, “mama works hard every day! you wouldn’t know that! you immature nugget!”

nanami frowns lightly, “d/n, that’s not nice—“

and for the cherry on top, your baby daughter throws the bottle cap she was playing with at the old lady, and frowns at her.

she starts babbling some nonsense that you're pretty sure are curse words in baby language.

having had enough, the old lady huffs, “the utter disrespect,” and starts walking away.

the rest of the spectators’ eyes follow her till she is out of sight. finally then, people start minding their own business, and you and your little family are left to the aftermath.

you giggle, “that was funny.”

“really?!” your daughter beams.

nanami cuts her off, “no,” he then looks at you with a small frown, a sigh escaping his lips, “y/n don’t encourage them—“

your baby daughter screams happily when she sees her sister smile. she starts kicking her feet with the biggest smile on her own face.

your older daughter starts laughing with her and tries to make her little sister laugh more—she was successful.

meanwhile, you chuckle, leaning on your husband’s shoulder, “admit it, kento; it was kind of funny.”

his resolve softens at the sound of laughter from all three of his girls, “okay, maybe a little, but—“

“yay!!”

ladies: 1

kento: 0

FUSHIGURO TOJI:

your husband and son are so alike, save for the part that your husband is a bit more shameless, and your son is more on the shy side.

however, they both have the same bluntness and the tendency to give anyone who they don’t like attitude.

for example, today, you were walking in the park with the both of them to unwind a bit.

not to mention that megumi wanted to walk his dogs which was a plus, since you would be able to watch your dear son play around with them.

it was all going great until you saw an old ‘friend’ who came running at the sight of you. he was someone who has always been way too touchy and in your personal bubble.

you have tried talking to him about it, but you’re confident that he does it to somehow force you into reciprocating the intimacy.

even if you’re a married woman with a freaking kid.

he giddily clasps your hand, “y/n, ‘been a long time!”

“h-hey,” you smile awkwardly.

he laughs, “I was passing by when I saw your figure, and I couldn’t help but come and say hi.”

you nod, “that’s great, but I am busy, so maybe later?—“

“you’ve gotten even prettier!” he exclaims, “I wish you would finally take me out on a—“

“can’t you see that she is uncomfortable?” your son retorts, “also, you should step back; you shouldn’t touch someone like this without asking them.”

megumi squeezes himself between the both you and glares at the man.

the guy was about to reply to your son, but toji pushes him back with ease, pulling you beside him and hand resting on your waist almost by instinct, “kid is right,” he tilts his head a bit, “ever been taught manners or do I have to do the teaching for you?”

the guy is taken back; offended, he snaps “you can’t speak to me like that!”

“and you can’t hold my mom’s hands like that, but here we are,” your son cleverly sasses him.

on the other hand, your—shameless—husband pulls you into one scandalous kiss and smirks at the guy when he pulls back, “and you can’t hit on a married woman, by the way.”

you hear your son gag in disgust at his dad’s actions, but you’re too busy burying your face in your husband’s chest, hoping that the guy disappears before toji makes even more of a bigger scene.

you also hope that the ground would swallow you, but that’s the alternative option.

the guy clutches his fist, before walking away, spewing insults at the sky—since he is too scared to cuss out your buff husband. once the man is out of sight, toji ruffles megumi’s hair, chuckling, “good job, kid.”

your shy bean’s cheeks redden slightly as he looks away, “…thanks.”

you’re still thinking about what just happened when you slap your husband’s chest, “toji, literally why?” you grumble, patting megumi who started holding onto your leg the moment you hugged toji.

“why not,” your husband shrugs with a small smile, taking pride in your flustered form.

“dad, I want ice cream.”

“no, you just want me to let go your mom, so you can hog her for yourself,” toji grumbles, staring down at megumi.

unfaltering, megumi looks up at him ,“dad, I want ice cream.”

“god damn it, listen here you—“

“divine dogs.”

RYOMEN SUKUNA:

there is no denying that both your son and your husband care for you very much, and they both—very aggressively—compete for your attention.

I am talking he literally throws the kid across the room kind of aggressive, and your son, in turn, throws whatever he has at him.

it’s eventful, but you would be lying if you said that it wasn’t one of the reasons why you will get grey hair earlier than everyone else.

so their very aggressive nature is also shown in their protectiveness over you.

a person doesn’t need to insult or even dare flirt with you for your devil duo to make their life a living hell; your husband and son don’t tolerate someone speaking to you if it causes you to ignore both of them.

for example, this one new servant was clueless to where the broom is, and unluckily for him, he saw you sitting with your husband and son in the gardens. he humbly approached you, “excuse me, m’lady.”

you turn to look at him with a smile, “yes?”

he clears throat, a bit flustered by the attention, “I—I wanted to ask where the—“

“up your ass, you disgusting fiend,” your son sneers followed by his father’s ever-permanent scowl.

“who gave you the permission to come and speak to her so casually?” sukuna presses, and the servant quickly falls to his knees.

“m-my apologies, my lord! I did not mean to disturb you!”

sukuna crosses his arms, “well, you did, and you also disturbed your queen and prince,” his eyes narrow at the servant, “what do you have to say for yourself?”

meanwhile, you’re watching all of that, mouth agape and trying to articulate anything to save the poor guy. you finally find your voice, “sukuna, it’s okay; he didn’t mean—“

your son hugs you tightly and glares at the servant, “to think he would so brazenly speak to you like you’re old friends is terrible, mother.”

you can almost see your son’s cursed energy flaring, and you can spot the small smirk on your husband’s face as he watches his son.

before it escalates any further and you find yet another dead corpse in your palace, you pick up your son, kissing his cheek which makes him flustered and causing him to bury his face in your neck.

you look at the servant, “you’re dismissed, and you can ask the head maid about anything you need, okay?”

“y-yes, m’lady!” he, however, stays glued to the ground, “may I have the permission to lift my head?”

sukuna grunts, “sure.”

“thank you, m’lord,” the servant says, before scurrying towards the gate, having secured his freedom after his little mistake.

or at least, that’s what he thought.

your husband slices his legs off with a flick of a finger, and your son, who has inherited his father’s technique, slices the head off.

and so the body falls to the ground, and the other servants hurriedly start cleaning up the mess.

you frown at your husband, “sukuna! he apologized!”

he rolls his eyes, and pulls you by the waist, “do I look like I care? he shouldn’t have interrupted our time together.”

“aww, you’re jealous!”

“no, I am not—“

“hands off, old man!”

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copyright © tender-rosiey

do not copy or plagiarize or you will be reported

[shotmrmiller]

tw: mentions of roofies, murder, then smut:)

cbf!simon would absolutely kill for you.

cbf!simon has always been your partner in crime.

even in your youth, back when he was built like a daffodil, he was always by your side. kept you safe from the mean girls at school, always got in trouble for throwing hands at boys who made crass comments at you and the like. then he'd left his butcher job to join the military. "I gotta learn how to keep you safe, love. i'll always come back to ya."

and he had. he returned to you almost four times his size; he left a boy and came back a man. down to your very bones, you knew that he would always keep you safe.

which is why he was the first person you called when the guy next to you at the bar roofied your drink. the beer fizzed irregularly and had an almost milky colour even though it was an ipa.

the idiot had dared to smile at you, an oily, crooked grin with yellow teeth, and lifted his own glass to toast with you.

you bolted out of your seat in seconds, heading straight to the ladies' room, and dialed.

he answered on the second ring.

"please come get me." you hadn't meant to sound as terrified as you felt.

"be there in 5," then hung up.

he lived 15 minutes away from the dingy bar.

true to his word, he was there in 5, texting where you were at.

inside the ladies bathroom.

he let himself in, put his jacket around your quivering shoulders, and with a strong, comforting arm, guided you toward the exit and into his truck. simon remained silent as he sat you in the passenger seat, gently pulling the seatbelt over your chest, clicking it into place.

he stood next to you, his hands resting on your jean-clad thighs, waiting patiently for you to explain.

your teeth sink into your bottom lip as you sort out your thoughts. you no longer felt afraid, that much was certain. simon has always been your pillar of strength. there was nothing to fear with him at your side.

so why do your hands continue to tremble? digging deeper, you realize that you're angry. no.

furious.

some imbecile thought he'd take advantage of you. if you'd been any more drunk, you would have been a victim— wound up lifeless in a dirty ditch.

you burned with fury, your blood boiling under your skin. how dare he? how dare he?

simon softly touches your tightly clenched hands, coaxing your fingers to unfurl.

everything pulls hard to port when your eyes land on his disfigured knuckles— scarred by battle. you've never liked what simon did for a living. he just fought and killed people that some higher-up told him were the bad guys.

in war, there is no good or bad side. the field is too soaked in blood for anyone to recognize where the line is if there even was one to begin with.

until now. just this once, you couldn't be more grateful that simon possesses the skills he does.

you make your decision. "there was a guy in there. green hat, ugly brown jacket with yellow, crooked teeth. he drugged my beer, then toasted me so i would drink it."

his hands tighten around yours marginally. "and now i'm here, safe, with you. but he's still in there, with potentially a pocket full of pills, on the lookout for his next victim. how am i supposed to sleep tonight, knowing that if someone goes missing tonight, the blood will be on my hands?"

you cut your eyes to his dark, hardened ones, and the words tumble out of your mouth with surprising ease.

"there's trash in there that needs throwing out, simon."

nothing but a wretched mongrel that needs to be put down.

simon's nod is subtle, but it's there. you exhale a shuddering breath, heart slamming against your ribcage.

he's a gun in your hand, and you've just pulled the trigger.

simon hands you the keys to the truck. "are you sober enough to drive home?" he quietly asks.

hard to keep a buzz when you almost became a victim of—

"yes."

he's opening the glove compartment, taking out his skeleton gloves, and a tac knife that he tucks inside the waistband of his jeans.

"go home. i'll see ya in a bit." his voice is flat, lifeless.

simon closes the door and raps his knuckles on the hood of the truck before heading inside.

and so the elephant marches to war.

-

it's well past midnight when he crawls in through your window. one moment his boots are on the windowsill, the next he's pinning you onto your mattress, hips flush against yours.

his chilly, clean hands lift the hem of your loose shirt, dimpling the soft skin that his fingers dig into— his bare lips grazing the shell of your ear.

"he is no longer a problem."

he grinds his clothed erection against the flimsy fabric of your sleeping shorts.

"you did the right thing by telling me what he did."

simon trails a path of open-mouthed kisses from your ear down to your mouth, licking your bottom lip.

"nothing gets me harder than when my girl looks at me to keep her safe."

your breath hitches when a hand begins to move south, lifting the waistband of your bottoms and sliding his fingers over your slick pussy. "it seems you like it too. does it turn you on, ordering me around like a dog? i bark at your command, pet."

one finger sinks into your wet heat, his groan drowning out your own.

"you like having this much power over me? how easily i bend to your will?" he croons.

there are two fingers in you now, so much thicker than your own, and the way they curl and drag along your nerves has your toes tingling. he takes you to the precipice at frightening speed— the expert hands that kill without remorse are the same ones that are bringing you your pleasure.

he thrusts his fingers into you with an obscene squelch and a thumb circles your slippery clit.

"i'd burn the world to ashes if you asked it of me."

the coil in your stomach is tight, your body tense in anticipation.

"so... would you? would you ask me to bring the world to its very knees?"

the answer sits on the tip of your tongue when you climax around his fingers, walls pulsing rhythmically, arousal dripping from his knuckles.

later will be a good time to reflect on how you don't feel even remotely guilty for what's been done.

for now, you focus on how good simon feels as he slowly sinks into you, splitting you wide open with his heavy cock.

-

simon finds no pills in the guy's pockets. no baggie, no bottle.

nothing.

shame that his little love has declared the guy's life forfeit.

your wish is his command.

[bisquid]

Wait wait you can't just drop that off and not elaborate. What do you mean is there a mafia presence in Wales?? Please spill, what things did you notice??

Okay so bearing in mind that I have ADHD and Chronic Terrible Observational Skills:

I am in Cardiff

For a concert I am attending solo

Doors open at 5

4:15 ish I go 'hmm I should eat something'

Cardiff is - unsurprisingly, being tiny and yet home to FOUR concert venues - Very Busy

Find McDonald's

McDonald's is very full. I recall my last concert related McDick's experience, and promptly bounce

Directly across the street

Is an Italian restaurant

It looks closed but fuckit maybe I can beg for like. Bread or some shit

Go over

Am immediately pounced upon by the hitherto unnoticed chain-smoking woman hanging out by the door mostly hidden by a potted ficus(?)

"I was wondering if you were open and if-" "yes yes we are open what would you like?" (strongish Italian accent)

Inside restaurant is Deserted

Explain that I'm sort of in a rush, am assured it's fine

Order chicken milanese which is generally a pasta dish with a breaded chicken component

Am led to seat nearish the front and promptly provided with a pint of coke in a glass tankard

Am then provided with a front row seat to an absolutely incomprehensible series of people entering and exiting (and in one case walking directly into) the door to what I can only presume is the kitchen

Starting with the guy who had been sitting at a table chain-smoking over a pile of papers

I counted at least three people exiting at least twice without actually entering in between

Am finally brought food

It is a breaded, butterflied chicken breast approximately the size of my face and a small pile of pasta approximately the size of my fist

It is all delicious

Chain-smoking papers man reappears, now wearing a chef's apron labcoat thing

Go up to pay, chain-smoking ficus lady is now having a very loud argument in a language I did not recognise but was not Italian Welsh English French russian Gaelic or Spanish

She sees me, says, and I quote 'ah little girl lost, one moment' and promptly hangs up

I am 27 and only nominally female

I am not remotely lost

She charges me for the pint of coke but not the food

I try to point out that she hasn't charged me for the food

'do you want to pay for the food?'

'.... Not if I don't have to?'

'good'

I leave. The door is now full of half a dozen very tall very Italian men and one absolutely adorable cocker spaniel

I ask if I can pet the dog (I have my priorities straight okay)

I am allowed to pet the dog. The dog and I are now best friends

The dog lead holder asks me in extremely accented but impeccably correct English if I had enjoyed the food

'yeah it was great!'

Everyone laughs a bit

I smile and pet the dog and realise I'm now late for the concert and hurry off

I see a post on Tumblr about mob fronts and several connections are made in my brain all at once