jace whose sister just can't stop whining ꫂ᭪݁ ⋆₊˚ mdni.
jacaerys has you on the edge of your featherbed, seated upon his lap with your legs spread over his thighs, his chest to your back. his fingers, rough from years of swordplay but still gentle when it comes to you, are between your thighs, gliding through the wet lips of your cunt. you can't help the soft, breathy little noises that come out of you, your hands curling into the fabric of his breeches.
jace hides his grin in the crook of your neck, his plush lips moving to kiss the delicate line of your throat instead. "you're so sensitive already, sister," the grin is audible in his voice, and you hear that infuriating teasing lilt of his, "tis only my fingers. i am hardly touching you."
"mmh- don't mock me." your voice is whinier than you would have wished.
"i am not mocking you, you know i never would." jace's fingers move then, finding their place upon your throbbing clit. he circles it once, just to hear your breath catch, and continues to hear the pretty whimpers that spill from your lips. you squirm on his lap, your spine curving in a small arch. "it is... endearing, that is all."
jace's wrist speeds up again, and the wet glide of his fingers grows a bit louder in the stillness of the chamber. your whimpers morph into whines, broken little cries as your toes begin to curl, a heat pooling deep in your gut. it's just as familiar as it is overwhelming.
"you make such sweet noises, sister," he murmurs, breath warm against your ear. his voice is a bit rougher, clearly affected by your sensitivity. his breaths fan against the back of your neck, stirring the baby hairs there, and a hardness presses against the curve of your rear through the layers that keep him restrained. your noises, the cute furrow of your brow, has his self-control wavering. you sob out, thighs trembling, and jace knows you're already close.
"i wonder what other noises you can make." his fingers move, abandoning your achy clit to thrust inside the warmth of your cunt without warning. the heel of his palm presses to your needy bud, and something in you snaps.
daeron had never known his true mother. alicent had sent him to ward in oldtown when he was too young to hold memories. he had not looked to replace her role, but it had happened nonetheless. she was the one he would always returned to, ormund's wife. she had sons of her own, children she shared blood with, and yet she treated daeron no different from them.
he remembered little of being an infant, only the warmth of her embrace and the comfort of her gentle lilt. daeron had been taken under her wing and into her arms, raised like her very own child. she sat by his sickbed even when the maesters of the hightower advised against it, she sewed him small trinkets and handkerchiefs with tessarion embroidered in blue thread, she praised his high valyrian when everything he had been taught of himself warred against it, she drew him into hugs and kissed his temple and cheeks despite ormund's disgusted scoldings about how unbecoming it was for a woman of her station to coddle a boy that was not hers. but daeron was hers, in the ways that mattered the most. blood was a thin thing, he had learned, and if there was one person in the whole seven kingdoms that the prince could rely upon, it was her.
so when daeron came to her, that agonizing night in tumbleton, she quickly rose from her spot by the hearth in her chambers, her jaw set heavily. daeron knew he looked an utter mess; with his cheeks wet and eyes still red. he had not noticed he had wept until his eyes began to burn anew at the sight of her. his feet had become planted to the cobble floor, his fists clenched by his sides. "mother," he had said, his voice scarcely above a trembling whisper. not my lady, not lady hightower, not even her name - but the most precious title of all.
before daeron could fix his mistake, she took him into her arms without a second thought. she accepted the name naturally, no comment made to scold or berate as ormund may have done. her hold was firm but not unkind, her touch gentle and grounding, and he melt into her embrace like a chick seeking warmth. "what has he done?" she questioned in a sharp whisper. daeron would tell her then, the words sticking in his throat, of what lord ormund had made him do. he spoke of how the man's hands cradled his face, proclaiming him a claimant to the iron throne. he had held vigilance in his own two hands, and drove sword into flesh with the outcome of death.
daeron heard her breath catch, even above the sounds of his shaky crying. his own hands clutched at her back, feeling the rigid lining of her corset beneath green silks. her grip tightened, body growing tense like a lioness prepared to strike for the sake of her cub. "daeron," she pulled back just enough to look into his watery eyes. "my sweet boy, what has he done to you?" it sounded less like a question and more of a threat to the man she called husband. her hands, smaller and gentler than ormund's, cradled his face with a somehow violent tenderness that only a mother could conjure. "do not fret," she said, wiping his tears and he had no choice but to lean into her touch like a kitten, "i know... the burdens of a king are too heavy for a boy. you are still a child, still meant to be protected. whatever ormund may do, whatever ormund may say, you must believe in me when i say we shall bear the weight together. you would make a good king, for you are noble and honorable and kind, but you are not meant to travel this path with him. you are deserving of guidance, not commands. ormund is a volatile man and he hides much from me, but you are mine. no harm shall come so as long as you return to me."
Summary: Jace is suffering from back pain, you offer to help.
Warnings: 18+, Suggestive, Tbh this is kinda smut, Jace is a little subby, Kind of mentions of time period sexism??, Potential Inconsistencies in the tense it’s written in (who is surprised? the answer is no one)
Notes: Hello! I’m so sorry I didn’t post this sooner like I wanted to BUT I am working on many different fics right now for many different ASOIAF characters!! I’ve even begun to draft for my October event so stay tuned!!
This is my first time writing something so suggestive/smutty so please be kind to me!
&& the header is for comedic purpose because… look at him lol
Word Count: 1.3k
MASTER POST , ASOIAF MASTERLIST
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You were curled up on the chaise by the fire with a book in your hands. This was your nightly routine. After shedding your heavy gowns, hair pins, and other jewels you would sit and read while in your thin night shift. You would typically do this until Jacaerys joined you in your shared chambers even though he had told you many times that you need not stay up for him.
You had just finished your chapter when he entered the chambers looking exhausted.
“Long day?” you ask as you close your book, standing up.
He nods, rubbing his neck, “I called for the maids to bring water for a bath.”
You make your way towards him before chuckling, “You need it. You smell like Vermax...”
Smiling, he tilts his head at you, “Yes, I was patrolling today.”
There was a knock on the door and maids filtered into the room with buckets of hot water, quickly making their way to the connected bathing room. They were gone just as quickly as they arrived. Jace never liked or wanted the maids washing him. He was perfectly capable of cleaning himself. Not to mention the fact that you had offered to help him many times after you had been wed, just as he would help you.
You sat beside the tub, taking turns telling each other about your day. You told him of your readings and research in the library, he told you of his conversation with Daemon. Jace did not remain in the bath for long, he never did unless you were bathing together, he didn’t find it relaxing and when the water cooled even the slightest bit he began to complain.
As he got dressed for sleep, you made yourself comfortable on your side of the bed. Jace groaned as he walked across the room, one hand clutching his lower back.
“You sound like an old man,” you say teasingly.
He rolls his eyes, groaning more as he sits on the bed with his back to you, “I feel like one. My back aches and my neck is so stiff…”
You sit up, scooting across the bed until you can rest your hands on his shoulders and your knees are touching his lower back. You tilt your head to look at him, a small frown on your face, “Well my love…”
“Well what?” he turns his head towards you.
“I believe it is from your posture.”
“My…posture?”
“Yes, you stand hunched over and sometimes you walk with your head jutted out.”
He looks offended, “I do no such thing.”
“My love,” you run a hand down his back til you reach the center, “you’re even slouching right now,” you push against his back, forcing him up straight causing his back to curve.
Then you return your hands to his shoulders and pull back slightly, putting him in a more proper sitting position. He looks at you again, only this time he appears shocked, horrified, and also relieved.
“How’d…”
“One of the very first things us ladies learn with our septas is how to stand proper. I don’t believe they teach such things to princes and lords. No, the first thing they teach you is how to swing a blade. Standing straight for me is subconscious but for you… it’s something you need to focus on.”
“You mean to tell me that I have been walking around hunched over my entire life and no one has said a thing?” he asks, exasperated.
“Not many people would dare question a prince… although I will say that Luke seems to stand properly, as well as Joff but he’s still little so that could change! Daemon is… well, sometimes I believe he stands with his shoulders too far back and his chest puffed out.”
Jace sighs, rubbing his temples, “My little brothers stand better than I do? What kind of example am I leading…”
You hum and scoot away from him, back to your side of the bed, “It can also come from stress, you carry a great weight on your shoulders Jace. No jest intended. Your back will likely ache for a while even as you adjust to the new posture… but I know something that will help for now, lay down on the bed.”
He gives you a startled look, his face flushing, “My love I don’t think that would help…”
You gasp, “You’re perverted! No! I meant… lay on your stomach, not on your back!”
“Oh.”
“Mhm.”
He complies, and moves to the center of the bed, resting his head in the crook of his arm. You click your tongue, “Put your arms at your sides.”
Jace does and only then do you move. Slowly, you move to straddle his lower back just above his tailbone. You start up by his shoulders, your hands working at tight muscles near the neck.
He immediately lets out a groan and hides his head in the pillows. You smile to yourself, biting your lip to suppress a giggle.
You hum a song while massaging his back, you can feel the tension leaving his body as you work your magic.
It seems as though he is going to fall asleep, completely relaxed as your hands are getting lower on his back. But that would be too easy. His hips began to rock into the bed, subtly at first and then more obvious, before he lets out a quiet moan.
“Love,” he croaks out, “I’m… sorry,” he hides his face entirely, “wait, please…”
You shush him before whispering, “It is natural Jace,” your hands fall to the bed on either side of the man beneath you as you lean forward til you're laying entirely on top of him, breasts pressed against his back.
“Do you wish for me to continue?” your lips brush his ear and he shivers letting out a noise that sounds like a whimper.
“Hm?” you hum, playfully biting his ear making him shudder, “I can not hear you with your face hidden in the pillows.”
Jace turns his head to look back at you. His eyes are dazed and his cheeks red, “Please…”
You smile, pecking his cheek before leaning back and continuing your work. You can’t help but feel pride every time he moans or groans or whimpers when his hips jerk into the bed. You were just about to stop and offer a proper solution to his current predicament when you felt him tense up harder than before.
“Fuck,” he mumbles your name, “‘m sorry…”
You slip off of his back and onto the cool furs on your side of the bed. He attempts to shimmy down the bed but you shake your head and pull him into your arms. Unable to hide his face between your legs, he hides in your breasts. You run your fingers through his curls, “You’ve made a mess of your trousers,” you tease.
He nips at your skin through your shift and you tug at his hair in response. Jace looks up at you and pouts.
“How does your back feel?” you ask, him being in pain being the main thing on your mind.
“Better, much better.”
“Good, we’ll work more on your posture tomorrow okay? I can begin to remind you if you’d like?”
“Please do,” he mutters, still embarrassed by the situation.
You laugh and pull him back to your chest. Just as you’re about to drift off Jace comes to a sudden, horrifying realization. His voice is muffled due to his face being buried in your breasts, “When I asked you to allow me to court you, to be my wife… I was walking like that? Standing like that?”
A husband waits outside
A crying child pushes a child into the night
She was told he would come this time
Without leaving so much as a feather behind
To enact at last the perfect plan
One more sweet boy to be butchered by man
SUMMARY: in which spencer reid finally verbalizes his feelings towards you, despite having gone months of being afraid to show his love.
WC: 588.
TW: slight angst(?), possibly ooc, cliché prompt, cheesy gooey stuff, reader gets kinda emotional at the end, no use of y/n, my horrible rushed writing, lowercase is intentional, not proofread.
A/N: hi <3 this is my first post here on tumblr. i'm still getting the hang of things so if anything looks odd i apologize. this is just something i conjured up real quick to post cause i wanted to test the waters and see how things go. feedback of any kind would be greatly appreciated !!
chocolate locks slid through your fingers as you threaded your hand in spencer's hair. whatever chick flick you'd turned on to pass the time droned in the background, your attention focused solely on your boyfriend as he rested his head in your lap, spread across the old couch in your shared apartment. moments like this were rare and fleeting, so you knew you had to savor it. savor the comfortable feeling that his presence provided. your apartment was far from luxurious, but it was your safe place. the calm, gentle atmosphere was so delicate and precious.
spencer's eyes were closed, but you could tell he wasn't quite asleep. the two of you had spent so much time together, it was easy to read him from his pace of breath alone, and vice-versa. a large hand carefully wrapped around one of your bare knees, nimble fingers tracing random shapes into your soft skin. it was a little habit spencer had picked up - a little way of keeping his hands preoccupied, much like his usual fidgeting. you gazed down at him, your hand gliding through his curls to gently stroke his cheek with the back of your knuckles.
“what are you thinking about?” you broke the quiet, and he swore his heart skipped a few beats. your voice was always so soft and gentle, you could calm him with just a few words.
“nothing.” he replied simply, eyes squinting as he opened them and adjusted to the dim lighting of the living room. he looked up at you, those charming puppy eyes gazing into your own. his cheek was smushed against the plump flesh of your thighs, a tiny frown pulling at his lips.
“you are thinking about nothing?” you raised a brow. at the sight of his frown, you felt your own heart ache in your chest. your hands raised to brush some of his hair off of his forehead. the action caused his eyelids to flutter, lashes kissing his cheeks for a moment. his brows turned up, furrowing together in that all-too familiar look of worry. your hand came to rest on the side of his cheek. “what is it, spence?”
his eyes darted between your own, searching for something he wasn't even sure of. he couldn't help but lean into your touch, one of his large hands wrapping around your wrist to hold it in place. his thumb rubbed over your pulse point as he placed a gentle, lingering kiss to your palm. when your gaze met his own, he swallowed thickly. he knew he was in so deep, foolishly in love with you. it felt like his heart was in his throat. for as long as he could remember, a part of him, buried deep down, was afraid of love. he was afraid of getting hurt again. for a brief moment, he let himself be selfish. he allowed himself to love unconditionally.
“i love you,” he spoke, his voice quiet and small. you had to strain your ears just to hear him. those three words held more weight than you ever thought possible. you'd spoken the phrase countless times over the months, never prying for reciprocation.
“i love you, too,” you whispered back. a teary smile pulled at your lips, the stinging in your eyes was quite prominent. without a word, spencer lifted his head from your lap. his hands held your head with a certain tenderness as he caught your lips in a sweet, loving kiss.
