[aphrcdites]

the bond between a girl and their favorite fictional man is both an unstoppable force and an immovable object

[haymitchandthegeese]

they would have made the best princes 🥺🫅

creds: pinterest

[sidfrogsby]

dear diary, I wish lionel messi would just fuck off

[64mpg]

“what is the target audience of this post” what?????? does your diary have a target audience

[64mpg]

the target audience of all of my posts is me

[illusioninfnty]

Back to Friends

ೃ⁀➷ cuckolding/desperate sex : Day 25

feat. Jacaerys Velaryon ᯓ★ Stuck in a dull marriage with a man decades older than you, your childhood friend convinces you why he should have been your betrothed.

warnings! : NSFW 18+, fem!reader, non-canon timeline (no dance of the dragons and rhaenyra is queen), cheating, reader is married, jace is not engaged, mention of male infertility, YEARNING, protective!jace, possessive!jace, cuckolding but the husband doesn't watch, lots of build up, banter, biting, breast playing/sucking, cunnilingus, begging, dirty talk, unsafe sex, breeding kink, belly bulge, creampie, squirting, mild cum play, cum eating, love confessions

ᯓ★ kinktober m.list || read on ao3

Music and laughter swell in sync as the crowd of dressed up lords and ladies glide across the floor, twirling with bright smiles and reddened cheeks courtesy of wine and ale. You linger at the edge of it all, lost in thought. Your soft smile is practiced, the kind a lady learns to wear when she cannot bring herself to join in.

Around you, the world dances. You simply watch.

“Still hiding along the walls, I see.”

The familiar voice pulls you from your thoughts. You turn.

Jacaerys Velaryon stands proudly before you. He’s taller than he was the last time you saw him, broader in the shoulders, looking regal in house Targaryen’s signature deep red and black. He’s no longer the boy who chased you through the halls and played pretend with you in the courtyard, but his eyes are the same. Dark and earnest, always looking at you like he knows something no one else does.

“Still finding me wherever I hide,” you mutter, your smile dropping into a more genuine one.

His grin widens. “Some things never change.”

While you gaze longingly at the crowd, wishing like you could feel like you belonged with them, Jace studies your face like he’s memorizing every curve of it.

“Dance with me.”

He holds his hand out in front of you, but you hesitate to grab it. Instead, you turn to find your husband standing across the room. His goblet is tipped high, ale spilling into the silver of his beard. He’s deep in conversation with another lord, no doubt making some sort of political promise. You doubt he notices you’re gone.

Jace doesn’t follow your gaze. He doesn’t need to. He already knows what you’re searching for, what worries are on your mind.

He remains patient, his grin transitioning to a small smile, gentle and earnest. His eyes are reassuring, glimmering with youth. “Don’t worry,” he murmurs, his hand still extended. “He won’t notice.”

This isn’t the prince talking, the heir to the Iron Throne, but your friend who you grew up with, who you dreamed of exploring the world with, who once told you he’d never marry unless it was to someone who laughed like you did.

You take his hand.

The warmth of his palm comforts you, and he squeezes your hand gently—protectively, almost—as he weaves you through the crowd.

The music rises. Couples scurry to the floor, readying for another dance.

You and Jace move together seamlessly, able to easily read the other in the way only two people who grew up in rhythm can.

“I remember when we used to practice dancing in the courtyard,” Jace says quietly. “You’d step on my toes and blame me for it.”

“I remember you letting me,” you reply, a smile tugging at your lips.

His face lights up, eyes never leaving your face. “I would’ve let you break all ten toes if it meant you’d keep laughing.”

The words hang heavy in the air between you.

You look down, biting your lip and lowering your voice. “You shouldn’t say things like that.”

“I know,” he says, his fingers tightening in yours. “But I’ve spent years not saying things. And none of it made this any easier.”

You exhale shakily. “Jace…”

“You were supposed to marry someone who saw you,” he says, voice raw now, like it’s been caged for too long. “Someone who knew you. Who would cherish you. Not some drunken fool who your incompetent father promised your hand to when his status began to plummet. Not some lord twice your age who calls you “girl” like it’s your name.”

“Jace!” you hiss, your head swiveling around to ensure no one heard him.

He doesn’t waver. “I merely speak the truth.”

You sigh. “It couldn’t have been helped,” you whisper, soft enough only he can hear. “I should have been smarter to know that I had no choice in the matter.”

“When I take the throne…” he glances over to where his mother, the Queen, sits at the head of the room, looking as poised as she always does, chatting with her advisors. “I will fix it. I promise you.”

You shake your head. “Don’t make promises that may not be kept.”

Silence drapes around you and the music slows. Your bodies sway with it, and you lean closer into Jace without even meaning to. He welcomes you into his hold, one hand coiling around your backside.

The comfortability of his hold was dearly missed, something you longed for when you were stuck in the unfamiliar and cold confines of your new residence. But perhaps you got too comfortable in his arms, and in your weariness you let something slip you hadn’t meant to.

“There have been some…problems between us recently.”

He sucks in a sharp breath. “Has he hurt you?” His palm cups your cheek, eyes searching your face as if looking for an answer your words may not give him. “Say the word, and he will be dead before morrow.”

“No, no.” You shake your head furiously, removing his palm and taking it into your own. Your husband was more the type to ignore you when he was furious rather than come to violence—the only blessing in this arrangement that you had.

“We’ve spoken with maesters, and I’ve even snuck out in the night to talk with a healer. They don’t think he can give me children.”

Jace’s gaze sharpens, and his eyes flicker with something unfamiliar to you.

He doesn’t say anything, so you continue. “Everyone is expecting an heir. A son. He was furious at first, believing me to be defective, but now I just…exist. Remain ignored. He doesn’t know what to do.”

His jaw tightens, and his hand shifts slightly on your back, moving lower and pulling you closer, so close if you just stretched up and leaned forward your lips would brush against his.

“What if I said I could help?” he asks, voice quiet and steady.

You blink. “Help?”

“If it’s an heir everyone wants, if it’s blood they care about—then let it be mine.” His eyes meet yours, and they’re burning now with devotion. “Let it be ours.”

Your breath catches.

“I would give you a child not because he can’t,” he says before you could protest, leaning in just enough that only you can hear. “But because I’ve wanted to love every piece of you since we were young. And I’ve run out of reasons not to.”

The song ends, but you don’t move. Neither does he.

His hand remains at the small of your back, your fingers still tangled in his as you stare into each other’s eyes.

“I shouldn’t have said that,” he murmurs. “But I won’t take it back.”

You don’t ask him to.

Instead, you draw your hand away, slow and measured. Your gaze flickers toward a table where your husband now sits—rather, slouches in his chair, oblivious to the two of you.

“He doesn’t know how to see you,” Jace says, stepping in front of you, blocking your view of your husband. “He doesn’t even try.”

You don’t say anything. You’re too conflicted, unsure of what words will come out of your mouth if you open it.

“Come with me.” Jace lowers his head, and you gasp as his lips almost brush against your own as he whispers. “Please.”

Your gaze shifts. “It would be foolish of me to.”

His eyes lower to your lips. “Perhaps.”

“But sometimes I am a foolish woman.” 

His thumb rubs against your cheek. “I know.”

Then someone crashes into your shoulder.

A laughing nobleman, half-drunk, half-spinning, staggers backward into you before muttering an apology and stumbling on.

Just like that, the moment shatters.

You step back from Jace abruptly, heat flooding your cheeks as reality comes rushing back in—the candles, the music, the people, your husband seated only a few paces away. The world has not stopped, and you have lingered in fantasy too long.

“I shouldn’t—” you start, your heart hammering in your chest as you begin to retreat further.

But Jace catches your wrist, pulling you back gently.

“No. Don’t do this,” he says. “Not now. I can’t have you leave again.”

“Jace—”

“Come with me,” he repeats. There’s no command in his voice, only a desperate plea. He doesn’t sound princely, merely vulnerable. Just like the boy from your childhood.

You take a deep breath and look around you. No one is watching you, all caught up in their own conversations. Your husband remains in his seat, having not spared a single glance your way.

You allow yourself to give Jace a small nod of your head. You hear his breath hitch as your fingers lace with his, hidden by folds of your billowing dress sleeve. He keeps his head lowered and his pace steady as he leads you out through the hall’s far side, past a heavy velvet curtain and into the quiet familiarity of a servant’s passage, devoid of any people to whisper and gossip about the two of you.

You can hear the sound of your heart pounding despite the music in the great hall carrying on and the chatter continuing behind you, the guests remaining oblivious to you sneaking away with their prince.

You recall the times you’ve scurried through these halls with him when you were children, hiding from the responsibilities that were soon to be placed upon you. 

The corridor soon twists into a narrower passage, lined with old, unpolished stone. You pause once you're far enough from the hall, your voice soft as you whisper. “I remember this.”

Jace glances back, his eyes bright even in the dark. “I was hoping you would.”

He pulls you gently forward again, and you let him.

Finally, he stops before a wooden door, worn down from absence of care and tucked behind a shadowed alcove.

As he opens it, you spot a couple of flickering candles lighting up the room along with the small hearth already burning in the corner. The room is plain but warm, no doubt used as a spare chamber meant for temporary workers or maids. But it’s empty now, abandoned with all hands needed for the celebration you had just escaped from.

The door closes behind you with a soft click, and Jace turns to you. For a moment neither of you move. You’re unsure of what to do, what to say, how to act. You opt to fiddle with the seams of your dress, waiting for him to make the first move.

Jace watches you like he’s memorizing this moment, eyes full of awe, as though if he’d blink you would disappear from his sight.

Then he strides towards you, and you gasp as his hand reaches toward your cheek. He cups it gently, stroking your skin under this thumb.

“I’ve dreamt of this,” he admits suddenly. “Before the betrothal. Before they gave you away.”

You meet his eyes. “What did you dream of?”

The hand touching you trembles slightly, and he raises the other to brush against your waist, then your back, pulling you gently to him. “Of you choosing me. Even if it was just once.”

You breathe in. “And now that it’s real?”

“Now I’m terrified,” he says, a subtle quake in his voice.

You smile, just a little. “You hide it well.”

“I’ve always had to. Wanting you for so long, and never being allowed to show it…it’s made a liar out of me.”

You reach up and place your hand over his, a gesture of intimacy you’re not afraid to show in privacy. “You don’t have to lie now.”

And then he kisses you.

It’s soft at first, and your lips lock so perfectly it feels as though you’ve done it hundreds of times before. Jace’s hands frame your face with a light touch, as if he’s afraid you may pull away. But when you don’t, when your fingers curl into the fabric at his chest, he deepens it, all the heat and pent-up years pouring into the act, speaking for the unspoken words of your affection for each other.

You part, breathless, and Jace presses his forehead to yours for a moment.

When your lips meet again, there’s no hesitation this time. Jace kisses you like he’s starving, surging forward with so much force that your back hits the wall with a dull thud that neither of you acknowledge. You respond in kind, mouth open beneath his, your hands buried in his dark curls, pulling him closer to you. 

“I want you,” he murmurs against your lips. “I’ve needed you so bad.”

His hands curl around your backside, fiddling with the closure of your dress. You gasp when the cool air hits your bare back, arching into Jace’s hold even more as your dress pools at your feet. You two move across the room hurriedly, still holding on to each other when your legs hit into the bed.

As you fall back onto the bed, the kiss turns messy. It’s hungry, and it’s desperate—a kind of desperation so unfamiliar to you that it has you whimpering, pulling back for air and for reason. But Jace follows you, his lips brushing yours again, chasing your touch as if he’ll die if he stops.

“This is wrong,” you breathe, the words practically muffled between kisses.

“I don’t care,” Jace groans, his voice ragged and frustrated with need. “Gods, I don’t care.”

He kisses you again, rougher now, and you don’t pull away. His teeth catch your bottom lip and you whimper, pulling him closer.

“It’s not supposed to be like this,” you whisper against him as he drags his lips down your throat.

“It was never supposed to be anything but us,” he rasps. “Your father stole that from us. I’m only taking it back.”

Your internal conflict, the push and pull between the anxiety of being caught and your carnal need for Jace, causes your heart to hammer in your chest. “My marriage, Jace—”

“Will be a problem no longer once I am king.” His lips move across the top of your breasts now, sucking into the delicate skin. “And he’s never touched you like this,” he hisses, taking a nipple into his mouth, your hands flying to tangle into his hair, “don’t lie to me.”

Your silence is answer enough.

“You will get your heir,” Jace affirms, pulling back to look at you in your naked glory. His hands slide across your waist and ghost over your stomach. “But it will be mine.”

Jace hurriedly sheds his layers and you unabashedly stare as he does so, propping yourself up on your elbows. You admire the chiseled curves of his body, no longer a boy but instead a man hardened by intense training.

When he sees you eyeing him, he smirks. “Staring, my lady? That’s rather improper of you.”

You scoff softly, but a smile tugs at your lips. “You brought me here, Jace. Don’t act so innocent now.”

As Jace sheds his final layer, matching your nudity, his cock stands proudly before you. You gulp, feeling the heat rising to your face. Your eyes drop briefly to his member, and Jace catches the motion.

“You’re still looking.”

You bite your lip. “How can I not?”

“I like it.” His hand wraps around your ankle, pulling you forward across the plush mattress. “I never want you to stop looking.”

Your lips part in surprise, but no sound comes.

He leans in again, leaving a trail of light kisses on your stomach and back up to your breasts.

“You have no idea what it’s taken to not touch you like this. Every time I would catch a glimpse of you, I wanted to take you away and never return.” He bites at your skin again, as if staking his claim on you with his mouth. “Every time I saw you with him, I wanted to break every rule there was just to have you.”

Your fingers run down his back, tracing the lines of his muscles beneath them. 

“You have me now.”

The resolve in your voice almost shocks you at first, but as you stare into Jace’s wide gaze, eyes full of pure, unadulterated affection, you know now that you have never been more sure of anything in your life.

His mouth finally brushes yours.

“Then I’m never letting go.”

When he kisses you again, you finally allow yourself to submit to him completely, to submit to the irrevocable pull towards Jace that you’ve had since the moment you met him. There was no turning back now, and you relish in the fact that you no longer wish to. Marriages and politics be damned, all you wanted right now—all you needed—was him.

Jace pulls back, and you believe that he’s readying to enter you. You untense your legs and spread them but your brows furrow as you see him instead lower his head by your entrance.

“What are you…?” you trail off.

Jace gazes up at you through his lashes, as he begins to bite and suck at the skin of your inner thighs. “I want to taste you.”

Before you can respond, Jace bows his head again and licks at your already-wet slit.

“Oh,” you moan, the feeling of his rough tongue lapping at your entrance sends shockwaves down your spine, igniting even more arousal in your system. “Oh, Gods.”

Your fingers find their familiar place coiled around his curls, anchoring yourself to him as he delivers you unimaginable euphoria. 

Jace watches your reactions carefully, the way surprise and pleasure plaster your features as you cling onto him for stability. “Has he ever feasted on you?”

You shake your head. “He was rather…simple.” You gasp as his tongue curls inside of you, hitting your walls in deeper spots than before. “I have never known of this feeling before.”

He scoffs. “Pathetic.” He thumbs at your swollen clit and you jerk at the touch. “But I will take great pleasure in being the only one to ever do so.”

His tongue swirls inside of you, and the noises he makes while pleasuring you are downright erotic. He moans into your cunt, as if it were a meal he had been desiring for years, and the vibrations enhance your sensations.

Your eyes, shut before from the sudden bliss, now open to observe him. Beads of sweat condensate on his hairline, his dark curls beginning to stick to his forehead. His cheeks are flushed as if he had been running, and his eyes are closed, relishing in your ecstasy.

You tremble under his mouth, body falling back into the bed as his tongue pulls out whines and whimpers from your throat.

“Has he ever made you feel like this?” Jace asks, practically growling into your cunt.

“Never,” you reply shakily.

“Only I can make you feel this good, right?” He plants messy kisses along the length of your slit. “Make you see stars, pray to the gods that you may never have to part from me again.” When you don’t answer, he nips at your clit. “Right?”

“Yes!” you cry. Your vision blurs as your eyes begin to water from the stimulation. “Jace, please!”

“Whatever you wish for, I shall give you,” he croons. His tongue breaches you again, and you believe in that moment that Jace may be a prophet with the way you truly see stars.

“Need you inside of me,” you whine, “now.”

He chuckles against your skin. “I was never one to deny you anything.” He lifts from your cunt as it drips from saliva and natural arousal. His fingers play with your swollen lips, twitching with need. You buck into his fingers, chasing his touch, but he pulls away. Jace crawls over your body, one hand placed near your head to steady himself on the mattress, the other reaching down to tug at his member.

Your heart pounds in your chest as you glance down at his erect cock. He was much larger than your husband, easily noticeable to you by looking.

“What is it?” he asks, picking up on your stare.

“It’s just that…” you swallow. “You’re a lot bigger than him.”

You almost smack him at the way his eyes light up. “Oh really?” Pride drips from his words.

You cover your face with your hands. “Just be gentle with me, please.”

“Hey, hey.” He pulls your hands away and presses a light kiss to your lips. “I merely jest.” He searches your eyes for confirmation of your comfort.

You inhale deeply, smiling gently and nodding up at him. He breathes a sigh of relief and begins to pump his cock slowly, aligning it with your entrance. 

“Say you want me,” he mutters, “that you want me just as much as I do you.”

“Gods, I want you so much, Jace. I have never wanted anything more.” You completely surrender yourself to him, relaxing your body into the mattress and spreading your legs further.

“Now fuck me, please.”

Jace doesn’t need to be told twice.

When he finally enters you, his first thought is that he doesn’t know how he lived this long without being connected to you. 

His second thought is that he might cum way too early.

Your name leaves his lips like a prayer.

“Gods, you feel so good,” Jace whimpers, face scrunched up in bliss, “better than I could’ve ever imagined.”

He rocks his hips slowly into you, conscious of your hesitation at his size. It’s almost painful, the way his cautious movements make him keenly aware to his heightened sensations courtesy of you—the way your nails dig into his back and leave a pleasant burn, your soft mewls sends the blood rushing straight to his cock, your cunt stretching to accommodate his size and still clenching around him as if it never wants to let him go.

“Jace,” you moan breathlessly. Your head is thrown back onto the bed, neck bared to him. He can practically see your pulse racing against it. “Oh, Jace.”

Every utterance of his name that spills from your lips has his heart racing faster and faster. His cock twitches inside of you and his slow thrusts allow for your walls to suck him in, seating him inside of your cunt like a missing piece to a puzzle. It takes all his strength to not just pound you into the mattress, but he can feel himself slowly losing a grip on it.

“Please, please, can I move faster?” If Jace were any more lucid, he would be embarrassed at the high-pitched whine of his voice. But right now, all he’s focused on is pumping his cock into you and filling you with his seed.

You don’t open your eyes, and Jace isn’t sure if you heard him at first. But then you whimper, body quaking, and he hears it.

“Yes, yes, yes.” Softly, under your breath, you give him the answer he was so desperately searching for.

His hips start moving frantically, as if they had a mind of their own. His cock hits places deep inside of you that have remained untouched, so deep it feels like it's making a home inside of you.

Jace’s thrusts continue in their strength as his palm moves to press onto your stomach, fingers splayed as if branding your skin. He leans over you, curls damp with sweat, pupils blown wide. His lips are swollen kiss-bruised and part with uneven breaths. When he speaks, his voice is low and ragged.

“You’re going to carry my child,” he says suddenly. “ I swear to the gods, I’m going to put an heir in you right now.”

Your thighs quake at his assertiveness and your cunt weeps, practically acting as an open invitation, begging him to fill you up with his seed.

He feels the shift instantly. His grin is triumphant.

“Oh,” he breathes, “you like that?”

Your lips part, but you don’t deny it.

“You like the thought of it,” he confirms, watching your face, his hand sliding slowly up your thigh. “Of your husband” —he practically spits the title out— “in his cold, lonely bed while my seed takes root in you. While you swell with my heir.”

“Jace—” you murmur, breathless.

But he’s too far gone now, the words tumbling out of him—confessions from a man who’s been holding back far too long.

“When I’m king, I’ll name our children as my heirs openly. We’ll have no secrets or shame about it. Let the court talk. Let everybody talk.” He leans in close, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “Let your husband choke on it.”

You shiver.

He chuckles darkly against your skin and his cock pulsates inside of you as he rocks into you with absentminded vigor, his brain now conjuring up the fantasies he’d been keeping close since the moment you were taken from him and promised to another. 

“I’ll make him bow to you. Make him watch as I crown you my queen. And he’ll know that every time he sees you, every time he hears your name, that he was never enough.”

His hand is at your jaw now, thumb stroking along your cheek. “He’ll hear the stories, of course. About how you cry for me. How you beg for me. How I touch you in ways he never could. Ways he never even thought to.”

You’re aching just from his words, legs tightening around him as your cunt flutters succinctly.

Jace notices. Of course he does.

“Oh, you do like that,” he says, voice low and amused, full of heat. “You want to see him humiliated. Don’t lie.”

You can’t speak. You don’t want to, instead wishing to bask in Jace’s words, full of desire and possession over you. You feel cherished, feel chosen—something you haven’t felt since the last time you had spoken to Jace many months ago.

“Perhaps we’ll name one after him,” Jace adds with a cruel smile, “as a joke. Or better yet—” He presses his forehead to yours, seating himself fully inside of you. “—we’ll give our firstborn a true Targaryen name, and the realm will know why. They’ll know it’s because you wanted me. You chose me. Because he couldn’t give you what I could.”

You gasp, half-horrified, half-delighted by the image, the madness of it, the kind of a life where none of this has to be hidden anymore.

“You’re mine,” he whispers against your lips. “And I’ll have you forever tied to me. I’m done pretending otherwise.”

You arch up and kiss him with the kind of passion that says you believe it. That you’ll live out these fantasies with him.

Jace moans into the kiss, his hips stuttering. When he pulls back, he glances down, admiring the way that your stomach bulges slightly when he pushes his entire length inside of you.

“Fuck,” he mutters, gritting his teeth. He presses down on the area where his cock lies inside your cunt, causing you to whimper. “Can you feel me here? All the way up inside of you?”

The pressure has you reeling, clutching around wildly to stabilize yourself. “Jace! Yes!” You don’t even know what you’re responding to anymore, unable to tell if you’re even coherent or not, your senses jumbled as you try to navigate yourself back to reality.

“Do you want my seed?” His voice raises. “Do you want to carry my heir? Be sent back to your drunkard husband with your belly full of me?”

“Yes, yes!” At this point, you aren’t sure if any other words can come from your mouth.

“Yeah you do.” Jace thrusts into you so hard it pushes you back against the bed, your head pressing up against the stone wall. You hold an arm out to stop yourself from moving any more, Jace too far gone in his pleasure to notice how much control he has over your body.

His fingers dig into your waist, bruises no doubt going to show up later. Your limp body arches as he holds you up, the veins in his forearms bulging with intensity as he mercilessly fucks you onto his cock.

His rhythm completely falters and his eyebrows scrunch up. “Fuck, fuck, I’m cumming!”

A sudden warmth fills you as Jace’s thick seed barrels into your cunt. It feels as though he has filled your every crevice, and looking down you feel as though your stomach bulges slightly at the amount of cum that’s been released inside of you.

Despite his orgasm passing Jace continues to thrust into you, albeit more gently. You whimper at the squelching sound it makes, his seed becoming displaced by his cock.

“Wait.” Your voice is raspy, your eyes bleary with unshed tears. You ghost a hand over your stomach, “Don’t let it spill.”

Jace answers your request with the swipe of his fingers, gathering the thick white seed that dribbled down your thigh and pushing it back into your entrance. “I did my duty here,” Jace murmurs, treasuring the sight of you full of his cum. He then turns his attention to your clit, still throbbing with unfulfilled gratification, “but a woman’s orgasm helps to truly implant the seed.”

You feel more sensitive now than ever, on the cusp of your own release. There’s a good kind of pain in the way that your built up peak threatens to push you over the edge.

Jace’s movements are adept, reading your body language expertly as he begins to coax your orgasm from your body. He mouths at your collarbone, leaving sloppy kisses and bite marks that illustrate the journey he took in exploring your body.

His fingers press down harder on your clit, and you jolt.

“Oh fuck—I can’t—”

“You can, you can,” he coos into your ear, biting softly on the lobe as his fingers circle your clit hurriedly.

“Jace!” With a final cry of his name, your orgasm hits you like a thunderstorm. Your cunt spasms furiously as your juices spray out, soaking Jace’s cock—still buried inside of you—and his frontside.

His eyes widen in wonder and amusement. “Look at you.” He collects some of your arousal off of his stomach, sticking his fingers into his mouth and sucking it. “So perfect for me.”

He kisses you, his tongue pushing its way into your mouth. You’re met with the unfamiliar taste of yourself, mixed with his own essence. Your head is full of the thoughts of you two together—your bodies, your fluids, your children.

“It’s okay.” Jace mutters. You don’t even realize your entire body is shaking until Jace runs a soothing hand up and down your arm, and you instinctively lean into his touch. He lowers himself onto the bed next to you and pulls you to his chest. “Lay with me for a bit.”

He doesn’t even have to ask. He knows what you want to do.

The fire from the hearth crackles low beside you, becoming the loudest noise in the room as it casts soft golden glow over tangled sheets and your tangled limbs.

You lie half-curled against Jace, your fingers resting lightly on his chest as it rises and falls, now having slowed into nice, even breaths. His arm is draped around you, hand splayed against the curve of your bare back, possessively. It makes you feel secure, cherished, loved.

You tilt your head just enough to look at him. He’s already watching you with unblinking admiration.

“What?” You whisper, giggling in embarrassment at the attention.

“I love you.”

Your breath hitches at the unexpected confession.

You blink, suddenly wide awake despite the warmth of his chest beneath your cheek, the steady beat of his heart, the exhaustion in your limbs from everything you’d just shared.

He said it so easily. Like it hadn’t been simmering in him for years. Like it wasn’t a major declaration, a hidden truth finally brought to light.

You pull back just enough to look up at him, your expression unreadable. His eyes don’t waver, not even a flicker of hesitation is to be found within them.

“I mean it,” Jace says softly, his voice rough and sincere. “I love you. I always have.”

You should tell him not to say things like that. That it’s foolish—dangerous. That it will only make it harder. But the words won’t come. You don’t want them to.

The silence stretches between you. Then, gently, you lay your palm against the side of his face, thumb brushing along the edge of his jaw.

He leans into it like a man starved.

“You don’t have to say it back,” he murmurs, eyes closing briefly. “I just needed you to know. I needed to say it.”

You let out a shaky breath. “Jace…”

His name is barely more than a whisper on your lips, but it grounds him. His eyes open again, searching yours.

“I think I was in love with you before I even understood what it meant,” he continues, rambling now, voice raw with emotion. “When we were children, I thought it was just…you being you. The way you laughed, the way you defied everyone without even trying.”

You smile, but your eyes sting of the memories from long ago, back when you were innocent children with no duties weighing you down.

“I wanted you even then,” he admits, threading his fingers through yours. “But now? Now I want everything. I want mornings with you. I want to see you carrying my children. I want to make you my queen.”

Your smile fades. Reality hits like a slap in the face.

“Is that really a promise you can keep?” you whisper, your voice cracking. “Don’t lure me in with false hope.”

“I meant every word I said,” he responds immediately, his tone fierce. “I’ll find a way. The throne will be mine someday, my mother has guaranteed that. And when it is…” His eyes flash. “I’ll name you Queen. I’ll strip him of every title, every land. Let the realm see who you’ve always truly belonged to.”

You bite your lip, trying not to let the thrill of those words show, but he sees it anyway, of course.

“You truly do enjoy it when I speak of him like that.” He hums in victory, a smirk overtaking his lips. His thumb brushes over your lower lip. “I bet you’re thinking of him watching you take your place beside me, him kneeling at our feet while you wear the crown of the queen.”

You don’t answer in words, but your lashes flutter, your thighs shift slightly under the sheets, and your fingers curl just a little tighter into his.

He groans softly. “Gods, I love you.”

“Jace,” you whine, trying to steady yourself.

“I promise you. I’ll make this right.” His hand brushes against your stomach, the unspoken commitment to your child sealed.

You rest your forehead against his. “I believe you.” And you do. You truly do. Jace’s devotion runs deep, and you know that he will find a way to make the impossible happen, for you to be together in a world that seems so set on keeping you apart.

He closes his eyes, like the words are enough to keep him breathing.

And for a long moment, you just lie there with him. Your fingers graze across the skin of his chest, tracing soft shapes, feeling the quiet rise and fall of his breaths under your palm as he buries his nose into your hair.

You swallow once, hard. Then again.

And then, you say it.

“I love you too.”

His eyes open slowly, as though he doesn’t quite believe the words have left your lips. But when he sees the open expression on your face, the soft vulnerability present, he exhales your name with a kind of reverence reserved for Gods.

You smile, small and aching, your truth finally tumbling out of you after being locked away and buried inside your heart for years.

“I think I always have,” you add. “Even when I tried not to. Even when I given away, when I wasn’t allowed to anymore.” You swallow, your throat feeling dry with the confession that has never left your lips before. “But I never stopped loving you. I couldn’t have.”

He lifts a hand to your face, cradling your cheek and saying your name with awe like he’s misheard your words.

“Say it again,” he whispers.

Your throat tightens, but you do. “I love you.”

His mouth finds yours then, slow and deep. It’s a purposeful kiss, like he’s kissing something sacred. Something finally his.

When he pulls back he rests his forehead against yours, your breaths mingling in the space between you.

“I won’t break my promise,” he says softly. “Whatever it takes. I’ll fight for you. For us.”

“I know,” you murmur. “But for now, hold me. Just be here with me.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

A pleasant silence settles between you again, lulling you into a peace you haven’t felt in years. Then Jace speaks up again.

“When we were out there, I just kept thinking…Gods, I was hoping your lord husband would trip over his own feet tonight and go face-first into the roast duck.”

You snort quickly, startled. But then a laugh—a real, unguarded laugh, escapes you before you can stop it.

Jace’s grin widens instantly. “There it is.”

You blink up at him, giggles still tumbling out as you fail to smother the sound. “What?”

“Your laugh,” he says softly, eyes fixed on you with great tenderness beneath the teasing. “I missed it.”

Your smile fades into something quieter. You feel the weight of his words in your chest, the meaning behind them.

“I haven’t heard it since before he took you,” Jace adds, voice low. “Since before they stole you from me.”

The joy falters just a little in your chest, the realization of his words washing over you.

You meet his gaze, more serious now. “I haven’t heard it either.”

He blinks.

“I haven’t laughed. Really laughed,” you say, your fingers brushing across his chest as if grounding yourself in the truth. “Not since you.”

The weight of your words lies heavy between you.

“I think…” You swallow. “The last time I laughed like that was the summer before my father betrothed me. You’d slipped in the training yard trying to impress me with that new sword move you learned. Fell flat on your back and refused to admit you were winded.”

Jace chuckles, low and quiet. “I was winded. Just trying not to die in front of you.”

Your lips curve, but the smile doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

“That was the last time,” you say, your fingers fidgeting with his. “Before everything stopped being mine.”

His hand curls more tightly around your waist. “You’re still you.”

You look up at him, admiration in your gaze. “Now I am. Now that I’m with you.”

He grins and kisses you again, and you let yourself laugh against his lips, the sound finally belonging to you.

You two settle against each other again, and as the fire burns low, you lie there in the arms of the boy you’ve always loved, his hand over your stomach and your hand over his, eagerly awaiting the moment you no longer have to hide in the shadows and conceal your love for him.

[captainshischier]

don’t hmu mexico lost to FUCKING ENGLAND

[insideininsideout]

[lotuspetalss]

Anemia is a bitch ✿˖°.

[captainshischier]

happy 4th but in a hot dog, drinking all day way

[jonasiegenthaler]

[captainshischier]

everyday i mourn quinn hughes and his family

[glassgasoline]

do you think that at any point valarr tried to fight the sickness off or did he let himself succumb to it? it took him quite swiftly. his greatest selfish wish of seeing his brother his father his mother again defying any and all duty towards the crown, but went against everything he was ever taught. do you think in his last moments in his final days he saw the jaws of the iron throne or his fathers nose his brothers hair and his mothers smile? because really, he was just a orphaned boy with the entire realm on his shoulders. it was an easier way out i think. either way, he died scared and alone and against his destiny. a wasted life.

[washedupkam]

sorry i am in fact a fan of when nhl guys sit down with shorts (that are already probably kindof short) and their massive thighs make them ride up and then they also manspread like crazy so now the shorts seem like micro shorts and thus in their effort to show masculinity they end up whoring themselves out

[arpegging]

sleepyhead

husband!valarr targaryen x f!reader

Summary: Your husband spends a lazy morning indulging in the finer things, namely: you.

WC: 3.5k

Warnings: 18+/NSFW/MDNI!, smut, fr y'all this is some nasty shit, established relationship, fluff, angst in the final hour, mentions of grief/death/spouse loss, masturbation (f! only), oral sex (f!receiving), fingering (f!receiving AYYYYYYYY), overstimulation, dom/sub dynamics if you squint, finger sucking from both of these freaks, service top!valarr (oh ty lord), also lwk switch!valarr, unprotected p-in-v sex, reader being a pillow princess, the big westerosi 'rona is implied. not beta'd idgaf. lmk if i missed any and i'll update!

Author's Note: baby's first fic, probably a nothing burger but i would genuinely give everything to throw it back on 209 valarr like wow girl i'm so bored let's go get vaccinated and make out. likes, reblogs, and comments are greatly appreciated! ty for reading! also s/o to @priestboy for the divider!!!!

A steady drip of drool came out of his mouth, loud, obnoxious snores sounding into the air. Three freckles packed together on the left curve of his nose, a flare of his nostrils as he slept. His fringe was askew across his forehead, the clump of hair shifted only to one side. You could not help yourself from reaching your thumb out and tugging down the center of his bottom lip, plush and pink. 

You could see every crease in it, and pulled it down even further to see his gums. You traced the point where his white tooth met pink, wet and pliant. He was even pretty there, too. He stirred slightly at that, but you pulled back, your hand returning to his cheek. He made a harrumping sound, tawny eyebrows pulled together, annoyance and tiredness painted on his features.  

“What are you doing?” Valarr murmured through the fog of sleep, burying his face into your neck, willowy arms wrapping around you. 

“Nothing,” you spoke into his hair, fingers twirling the ends. You dug your nose into his scalp, wanting to remember the lilac notes in it. 

He mumbled some protests, but you couldn’t  make any sense of it. Jumbled and out of place vowels as he squeezed you, as if to drain the ache from his bones by pressing you into him. You stretched, moving to sit up, but he only held you tighter with an indignant huff, seeming to hope that the skin would give way to his will.

Your little laugh made the white streak in his hair sprig up with flight. 

“Are you trying to merge your skin with mine?” 

He scoffed, pressing a peck to your pulse. “Yes. I would be successful, were my lady wife not to fight me.”

“And yet I lay here limp.”

“Your will is spiritual. And forged of iron,” he sighed. Silence fell between them, and you traced the muscled line of his arm. Eyes cast up to his, a tad bit guilty. 

“I’m sorry I woke you.”

“Ah, cease that. I never get to see you like this. Your hair all muffed up. Drool dried on your chin,” he swooned, smoothing his hand up and down the column of your throat, love in his eyes.

“That soaked pillow is your doing, not mine,” you rebuffed, giving a small bite to his earlobe. He feigned annoyance, a sour glare cast your way.

“And who will believe you? Your word against a prince’s….” he tsked, nudging your nose with the tip of his. 

“Do I get a trial at the very least?” you whispered, lips grazing the corner of his mouth. 

“No,” Valarr affirmed, giving you a soft kiss. He moved to your cheek, then your forehead, taking his time. Your jaw, your eyelid. Right next to your ear. “Trials are not granted for acts of treason.”

You gave him an admittedly weak scowl, flopping back against the pillow, hair strewn around the crown of your head. 

His hands slowly slipped from your back to your waist, small, tentative touches down to the back of your thighs. His hands stilled on your hips and he restrained the urge to pinch the fat where your legs met your ass. He would dream of nothing but greedy fingers soothing the sting, rubbing circles into the flesh he had rendered you into nothing but little mewls as he licked into your mouth. 

“What do you desire this morning?” he whispered into the shell of your ear. A kiss on it to leave a piece of himself with you before he left the bed. 

Your head swam with possibilities, but indignance came first at his assessment of your wanting. “And when exactly did I say I desired anything?” you protested, and yet, you smiled through the whole statement.

He sat up, beautiful hair in three different directions. The golden light from the open balcony formed a ring of light around him. One eye lit up in a mosaic of cerulean and cyan, the other with brown. You couldn’t decide which one you loved most. He let out a chortle at your expression and started to smile, and at that, you became entirely too preoccupied with the way the creases around his eyes looked. 

“You get…” Valarr waved around a hand, trying to summon the right phrase. “This look. As if you wish to eat me alive. That is how I know you want something. To use your poor husband’s body as a tool for thoughtless pleasure,” he added with a touch of mirth.

Your cheeks burned at his comment, half a mind to bury your face in the pillows and die, but he simply tapped your cheek and brought your hand to his lips, kissing each fingertip for every time you would not meet his eyes. 

“It is not an awful thing, wife. I imagine our marital bed would not be as well-used as it is were I having to guess if you wanted me,” he shrugged, bowing his head to yours. “Now, tell me what it is and I will do my best to give it to you. It is not as if I suffer in doing so. Rather the opposite.”

You looked into his eyes, earnest and brimming with affection. You swiftly nodded, a shy smile on your lips. 

“Your fingers, for now. Then perhaps more as well.” 

He took your order, standing tall and naked from the bed. He strode over to the washbasin, taking his time to thoroughly scrub his hands clean, and then what was left of his and your release from the night prior off of his groin. 

You could not free your eyes from him, the chestnut curls that grew above one of your favorite parts of him, long and heavy against the inside of his thigh as he moved a wet cloth along himself. Your mouth watered, fingers slowly moving down under the bedsheets to soothe the ache between your legs at the sight of him. You could not bear to wait until he was done. His meticulous routine always took some time, and patience was not an esteemed virtue of yours.

Strong, tanned thighs from the fortnights they had stationed away at Summerhall, more freckles dotting his skin by the day. You traced your eyes up his body, the lean muscles in his back stretching as he applied perfumed soaps and picked at a spot on his leg. Sinew against skin, stronger and bigger than he had ever been. 

He had been training in the courtyards of Summerhall before they had returned to Dragonstone, sword clashing and countering every attack the master-at-arms threw his way. You would have every door into the castle locked if it kept him outside, tanned and panting, gleams of sweat on his brow, arms straining, growing. Thighs that strained against his trousers, bracketing yours at night when he held you. Your head grew heavy, slumping against the pillow, open-mouthed as you drank him in. 

A few moans threatened to slip past your throat, but you quickly bit down on your bottom lip, trying with all your might to not reveal yourself. He would tease you endlessly, drag you from the covers and down to the end of the bed, drawing out every sound you prayed the guards posted outside their door would not hear. You stopped the pace of your fingers when he wiped his hands on the hand linens the servants had not yet changed from yesterday night. You willed your hands at your side, shifting the bed covers up to your chin. 

He turned around, unhurried paces across the large room. He peeked out to the large balcony that supplemented the bed chambers, gilded beams of sunlight coming dancing off his rich skin. He strode over the railing looking over the sea, the smell of salt crisp in the air. A deep sigh broke from his lips, squinting as he gazed out at the horizon.

You cleared your throat. 

“You’ve a wife to attend to, Your Grace.”

His chest shook with a small laugh, lips taut to one side of his mouth as he cast a look at you. 

“My cruelty is unparalleled,” he remarked, smiling and throwing your covers aside. The morning was warm, but the air chilled you and he quickly soothed your body with the warmth of his. You thought it better to pretend you did not feel him stirring against your leg. 

You hummed in assent, peace on your face as he kissed along your jaw, hands quickly smoothing through his hair. 

“Truly, you’re awful. Absolutely…” you trailed off as he moved his fingers in a downwards arc, first tracing the line of your stomach and slowly beginning to tend to where you wanted him. You breathed deeply, focusing on the beams of the ceiling as you willed yourself not to make a fool of yourself screaming like a whore.

“It is a beautiful morning,” he breathed against your pulse before adorning it with his mouth. “Perhaps we can go for  a walk in the gardens. I know how you love the yellow roses. I should order the gardeners to plant more.”

You couldn’t control the stupid smile that took over your face, and as a consequence, many of the noises built up in your throat came slipping out, your eyebrows pinched. That seemed to spur him on, lowering his head to circle his tongue around one of your nipples before popping it into his mouth. His unoccupied hand came up to abuse the other one, switching sides every time you grew too quiet. 

They were swollen and reddened before too long, overstimulation and pleasure blurring into one another as it became too much. 

“Valarr,” you panted, gripping his hair to pull him off your chest. A flash of panic took over his face, eyes searching your face for any pain or discomfort. His worries were soon discarded when you redirected his head between your legs, a smile on his lips as he opened his mouth heartily.

He soon began to make a new mess, spit and slick forming a small pool beneath you on the bed. The spot cooling with air was the only thing that grounded you as he ate at your cunt, tongue slopping over your sex again and again. He felt relentless, pinning your hips down with one arm banded over you as you desperately tried to escape the overwhelming knot building in your stomach. You couldn’t bear it but couldn’t stop adorning his tongue, pulling his hair as tight as you could and rolling your hips into his mouth. Your legs closed tighter around his ears when you looked down to see him grinding himself against the mattress. 

Prior, you would’ve balked at how loud your moans grew, echoing in the chambers, but you now wailed with reckless abandon, every feeling and moment centered at Valarr’s nose bumping against you as he dipped down to taste the nectar that had been seeping out of your slit. He groaned into you, resuming with a fervor until your mouth dropped in a silent scream. Legs locked up, you shoved his face into your hips desperately chasing the last of the shock that lit up your bones. He worked you through it, only ceasing when you tugged his chin up to your lips, tasting yourself on his tongue. 

You laid there panting for many moments, sweat beading at your hairline. He kissed his way back down, reinforcing his focus on your breasts, watching you twitch and whine as he pressed his lips to your oversensitive nipples. You reached down for him, using what liquid had already beaded at the tip to stroke him in full. You took turns stopping and continuing, watching a beautiful pink flush take over his chest. His soft moans, some caught in his chest, meek and quiet. 

“Please,” he groaned into your stomach, humping himself back and forth into our hand after you had paused. You withdrew your hands and he chuckled humorously against your skin, brows pinched together in near pain. He looked up at you, the side of his face heated by your flesh. He was just a man at his temple of choice.

You simply smiled, blissful in the glow of the pleasure he had given you, and mirthful all the same. He conceded, sighing as he accepted his fate. 

“You still have not used your fingers,” you chirped, nose tilted up. “That was my sole request, lord husband.” 

You could feel his teeth etched against your belly in a grin.

“Right you are, my love,” he said, rising into his knees. 

He slipped his fingers into your mouth gently, rounding them around your gums before forcing your tongue down with the pad of his ring finger. He was playing dirty; your brain always seemed to fill with fog whenever he suddenly took control back from you, if only for a moment. Your mouth started to pool with saliva, the edge of his gold wedding band caught on the bottom of your front teeth. You whined and keened, hips moving against his to find friction, but he pinned them again with his other hand. 

“Shh….,” he spoke into his knuckles, a hair’s breadth from you. Your lashes brushed up against each other, twin silk threading into each other. Your eyes bored into his, pleading and needy, weakly clenching half of his wrist with your hand. He did his best to hold his smile at bay, but he always loved you like this, drunk off your own desire. Drool started to spill from the sides of your mouth, and he simply wiped it away, replacing the streak with his kisses. 

When he had decided you’d sufficiently drenched his fingers, he pulled his fingers out of your mouth, suppressing the smirk at the hoarse gasp you let out. Licked lips, swollen and red, biting still as he brought his hand down between your thighs. Your chin was tucked up to the sky, body practically buzzing with anticipation. His fingers brushed through you, clicking his tongue as he watched you clench around nothing. 

  He ran them up and down the length of you, wet and sloppy, his spit making your cunt shine in the light of day. He would make seven or so passees, deliberately ignoring your clit and pinning your hips as you tried to wiggle your hips so he would go where you wished. On the eighth pass, he would finally use the full weight of his fingers to press down on your clit, beaming in the way you gripped his hair, pulling him up for a kiss. He snaked his other hand up your body, rolling his thumb around your nipple. You keened, chest rising in quick breaths, distracted enough for him to slip two fingers inside of you. 

His pace was brutal from the beginning, short, hard thrusts of his wrist, smiling into your kisses as he felt you drip down the palm of his hand. Any other time, he would take his time with you, gentle touches and a slow temperament. The morning, however, found you rather brave, and was reserved for you being pressed into the cold, smooth mattress and asking, demanding for more. You could not think, hair sticking wildly to your forehead with sweat. Your cheeks burned at his lips against yours, and you were like to scream when he aimed his fingers upward, the loud sound of your desire reverberating in your ears. Your limbs tensed, jaw hung open, and it faded from one moment into another, Valarr suddenly over you, spreading your legs to kneel between them. He smoothed the hair from your head, kissing his way from your chin down to your stomach. Your mouth was dry, your tongue a rough weight bearing it down. 

“Was that satisfactory? The fingers only?” he muttered into your stomach, hair ruffled as he looked up at you, head rising with the slope of your torso. You fanned the back of your hand over his cheek, laughing breathlessly as you nodded. 

“Do you want more, or shall we make to start our day?” he inquired, sincerity etched into his brow as he chased your fingers with his mouth. He did not expect words from you in these moments, blissed out as you were. You silently pulled his arms up to plant beside your head, your answer plain to him. 

He chuckled to himself, and lined himself up with you, the mess you had made together helping him slide into the root. He swallowed your whines, the practiced sawing of his hips digging at the spot he had already abused. He hitched your legs up, holding them to the opposite sides, his pelvis slapping onto yours now. He was everywhere, hot blood thrumming under your skin as saccharine dripped into your legs and made its way up to your stomach. 

Your mouth was etched in an O, brows drawn together as he quickened his pace, bearing his body down on you. 

“Valarr,” you spat out after several attempts, eyes honed in on him.

He could not respond, his stomach pulling taut. He would not allow himself to, to indulge himself before he had wrung you dry. He bore you into the bed itself, your nails raking down his arms. With a weak, throaty cry, you shook in his arms, and clutched him down to you, hips still chasing his to ride you through it. 

His thrusts turned sloppy and uneven, less care now that he had pleased you within all of your whims. His arms bracketed your head, burrowing his own into your neck. What once were reserved groans and careful slips were now uncontrolled whimpers and fervent pants against your flesh. He coated your neck in involuntary drool, cradling the top of your head as he took and took and took. Hips slapping against your, his hair catching against your clit and working your jaw open despite how much he had already given you. Words were not viable for either of you, only grunts that came from your chests and shrill moans. 

He tensed, and he shifted to look at you, noses touching as his face clenched up. It was always his tell. Even if he was taking you from behind, one of the mirrors across the room would have to be used or he would need to flip you onto your back. Smoothing his fingers over the face he loved most, static surging through every point in his body, a knot in his stomach that refused to unfurl until he heard you say it.

“Please,” he forced out, so close to you that it seemed there was no more room to breathe. His face was etched in perfect misery, a power only you could grant him, a fire you held the tools to extinguish with three simple words. 

You managed to smile through his growingly rough thrusts, open mouth twisting. You gripped his hair and steered him to nearly close the gap between your lips. 

“I love you,” you whispered to him, delighting at how such a strong man seemed to shake and tremble at a small testament. 

He bit onto the pillow beneath you, ivory of canines and feathers embedded and intertwined. In a more sober moment, he would blush viciously at the noises he was making, but a force was driving through him that could not be contained. His throat felt raw from the whines he filled the chamber with as he finally emptied himself into you. He panted for how many minutes he could not say, red in the face and sweat adorning his hairline. You simply stroked his back, giggling at his exasperation.

He took all of the strength he had left in him to roll himself onto his back and bring you with him, not caring whether or not he stayed inside you. You were the princess; if twenty batches of moon tea was what you desired, you would have it. Your hot skin pressed into his, your weight pushing his back into the soft mattress. He settled his nose into your hair, his breath as real as the warmth from his skin on yours. 

“Is this your favorite to remember?” he said, a soft kiss to your scalp, moving the hairs stuck to the sweat on your forehead.

Your stomach emptied at the words. 

“This is just a dream, is it not?”

He smiled sadly. The sight of it was so beautiful that it was no wonder it could not be reality. 

“Does it matter?” he said, voice so quiet it was barely above a whisper. He tucked pieces of your hair behind your ear, gazing into your eyes with an unreachable somberness. “It happened in this bed.” 

“What a blessing,” he whispered against your lips, your eyelashes touching. “You were the last thing I ever got to see.” 

You woke alone later that morning, the grey clouds cast over the capital city. The side of the bed that had laid cold and dormant for two years. You rose only to order more sleeping draughts from the maester. 

[etheltempest]

[welaughuntilourribsgettough]

[ayshahxxss]

AND abs. And now that we’re at it let’s throw in some broad shoulders, a strong back, and a nice smile.

[captainshischier]

fuck men i’m going to spend the rest of my life reading x reader fics