Imagine Jinx Survives And Just Pops Up On Readers's Doorstep, And She's Like, "...yay! I Uhm..survived!"

😭❤️‍🩹

Au where Violet dies giving birth to Hyacinth and Anthony is alone being a single dad raising his siblings alone.

His motivation for finding the perfect wife increases tenfold and he’s balancing duties trying as viscount and finding a suitable wife for his family.

In the mean time, Lady D becomes a surrogate aunt figure to the Bridgerton siblings. She loved Violet and so is okay helping Anthony raise the siblings.

Anthony eventually meeting Kate (Edwina is too young to be in the marriage market). They agree to marry each other for convenience, Anthony wants his siblings to have someone they can rely on and Kate wants to give her family a good reputation as being the wife of the viscount.

Anthony falling for Kate as he sees her get along with his siblings and help him raise them, Kate falling for Anthony because of how much he loves his family and wants to be there for them.

Just Kanthony raising the bridgerton siblings

Perfect Size

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x fem!reader

Warnings: reader is described as short, name-calling, swearing, Daemon being a horny menace, soft!dom! Daemon, talk of impregnation, talk of pregnancy, pregnancy, smut

Summary: It was Daemon’s life mission to remind you of your size difference, in every aspect of your shared lives.

A/N: This is part of the wonderful @targaryen-dynasty 3K celebration, congrats by the way!!!! I had so much fun with this prompt. Enjoy everyone and enjoy the other wonderful and talented writers' fics. 3K Celebration Masterlist

My masterlist

The gods make humans in their image. They make them grow until they see them as perfect. Or so your Septa used to say whenever you were frustrated about your small stature. And it was no help that the greatest rake of the realm, Lord Flea Bottom, the Rouge Prince himself, made it his life’s mission to remind you of how small you were.

As children, you had been a bit taller than him. He had a problem with it. The need to be bigger than a stupid girl was great. His growth spurt came and he nearly towered over you, looking down at you with a smirk on his lips. “How is the weather down there?” He would often tease. “Just fine.” You would retort back. “I hope your small brain will get enough air up there. A shame if you lost more of it.” Was your sarcastic comeback.

The older the two of you got, the taller he would get and you would only grow a few inches if you even grew at all. First, he was slightly lanky. His muscles had yet to grow. He would remind you of a newborn horse whenever he would stumble over his two long feet as he trained with his sword. Often giggling to his dismay.

“I will cut your head off, and then you will be smaller!” He would shout in anger when he saw you snickering. Daemon’s temper seemed to grow with every inch he gained. You enjoyed it immensely when it would rise because of you.

As young adults, it was fairly certain that you would grow no more. If you stood behind one of the large dinner chairs you could easily hide behind them. Everything seemed to dwarf you.

Daemon prided himself in the knowledge that he was taller than you. Towering over you like the Hightower in Oldtown. And he never passed down the opportunity to remind you. “Shouldn’t you be with your nurse, little one? I think you got the wrong room. The nursery is that way.” Or other things.

You would glare at him. Often kicked his shin when no one was watching. He would yowl in pain. Jump around and hold his leg. “You little pest.” “Maybe you should get your head out of the clouds.” You teased back.

But there were the times he would call you more affectionate words associated with your small stature.

“Why the sour face, my little love?” He mumbled into your ear as he stepped out of the shadows. He had been hiding from his grandmother and her attempts to put boring and plain noblewoman under his nose.

A huff of annoyance escaped your throat. “Mother forced me to wear this ridiculous gown.” You seethed. Your teeth bared like a wolf snarling.

Daemon found your discomfort rather amusing. You looked like a pretty doll all dressed up. Your hair braided into the style of the land you came from. The gown so unmistakably the colours of your house, shining in the light of the candles.

"Oh, no - you're a lady and you have to wear pretty dresses and jewels and oh no, how horrible!" He teased you lightly. He leaned his head on top of yours. A habit he adopted quite recently. Loving the way you fit under him.

You snorted, very un-ladylike. But he was used to your characteristics. You were not one of those up-tied, boring wenches who tried to turn his head. He would rather gauge his eyes out before he gave them a second of his attention.

His attention was only worthy of one woman. And she was right literally under his nose.

He leaned down, just next to your ear. His hot breath fanned over the sensitive shell. “Do you think it would fit?” You could feel the smirk in his voice. You turned to him with a confused look on your pretty face.  It stayed that way until you felt something. You felt it, him. Hard as a rock, pocking you through the fabric of your wedding gown.

Your face grew hotter than the flames of Caraxes. Your body stiffened as you felt him softly rub against your buttocks. He only laughed lowly. His chest vibrates, sending chills up and down your spine. “You scoundrel!” You lowly scoffed. Your heart beating faster.

Not from his antics. Oh no, you were used to them by now. About the whole banquet finding out about Daemon’s little innuendo. “Oh, little love. I am your scoundrel now. It was ordered by the Queen herself.” He chuckled darkly.

She hit his shoulder lightly. “Stop it!” You tried to reprimand him. But your words fell on deaf ears. “Oh, my little love. How funny you will look with my seed growing inside you.” He began to whisper his lewd words. “You probably won’t be able to walk, so large your belly will grow.”

Your body grew hotter and hotter. It didn’t help that he had you pressed to his chest. His erection pressed against the cheeks of your perfect ass. His hands wander lazily over the front of your dress. Stopping over your belly before wandering further down.

“Oh my little love, will it even fit in your little tight hole? Or will I have to mould your little cunny so only my cock can fit inside?” Your breathing hitched at his dark, lustful words. Daemon’s predatory smile grew at your body's reaction to his scandalous words whispered so softly into your ear.

He often wondered if he was unfair to his wife. She was small, her body had nearly strained from the weight of the beautiful two children she had already given him.

He was right at their wedding feast. Her swollen stomach looked too large for her body. It hadn’t been long before the first signs of pregnancy made themselves known.

From the small bump only three moons after they conceived. He still can remember how his hands could cover it until she was seven moons pregnant. She had been ordered to rest. To not exhaust herself too much.

Daemon, looking at the image of her laying in their bed, their little one nestled in her belly. The sight did things to him. Things where his darkest desires seemed light in comparison. Oh, how he had spent his days behind her, driving himself into her tight cunt instead of sitting in a boring small council meeting. His wife and unborn child needed him, and he needed them.

“Another one?” You looked at him from where you stood. Children’s toys in your arms as you helped your daughters clean the room for the day.

Daemon just shrugged. “Why not? Add another one to our hoard. What about you girls? Do you want another sibling?” He crouched down so he was level with Alyssa and Visenya. Both girls looked away from their task to clean up the solar, screeching with joy as their father spoke to them.

“They are tots, Daemon.” You protested. Picking up more of the girls’ toys. “They will agree to anything if you say it with enough enthusiasm.” Daemon chuckled. “Oh, I think they know what I am saying, elillus (honey).” He smirks softly. His eyes roamed her body without shame.

“It has been so long.” “It has only been a few hours. You had me in the morrow.” You snapped back. Cleaning your daughters’ toys from the floor. Putting it into the chest designated for their toys. “I did not mean our coupling, prūmȳs ñuhus (my heart). I meant another child. The girls are six and four.” He mumbled gently.

She looked up at him sitting in the armchair at the edge of the carpet where the girls were playing moments ago. His violet eyes were dark as he watched her like the hunter his prey. “I don’t know, valzȳrys (husband). You heard the maester's words after Visenya’s birth.”

Daemon saw the change in demeanour. He nearly had you, only a small push. “It is your choice, ābrāzȳrys (wife). I do not want to force you.” He stood up, kissing your forehead before helping you with cleaning the toys up.

You were tossing and turning in bed. Nothing seemed right. Thoughts swirled through your head. So many voices at once.

You wanted to scream. But you would only wake up your family.

“Tell me what is keeping you from sleep, ābrāzȳrys (wife)” Daemon's gravel voice rang through the room. He sounded tired. His back turned to you.

“It’s nothing.” You whispered. “Bullshit!” Daemon groaned. Turning to face you. “It feels like I am sleeping next to a bloody sack of kittens. What is it.” He tiredly glared at her. Knowing full well what was going on.

“You’ve gotten into my head, you menace!” You growled out. Pouting at him. His usual smirk grew on his lips, a soft chuckle escaping. “Apologies for that, ābrāzȳrys (wife).“ „You are not sorry, Daemon.” His grin widened more. “You know me so well.”

A huff escaped your lips. “Why must you torment me so?” Daemon sat up on his forearm, looking down at you. Your hair was splayed out in a messy halo. A bright smile adorned his face as he saw the light, tired glare and the pout on your lips.

“Oh, little love, I vowed to be the bane of your existence since we played with the small dragon figurines our daughters’ play with now. And ever since it was announced you would be my dear lady wife I swore to torture you even more.” He softly nipped at your collarbone, his large hands coming to rest on your rips, just under your breasts.

“Let me help you with your decision-making. Let me enter your little cunny and stay there when I cum. Let my seed fill your womb once more.” His imposing frame loomed over you. Covering you like a blanket.

“What if the maester is right?” “The maesters are cunts who want to see me unhappy and you in doubt. They told you after Alyssa you could not carry another child. Two years later they said the same after Visenya.” He kissed your shoulder gently before his expressive violet eyes stared at you. “What is your body telling you?”

You bit your lip gently, A small rumble going through Daemon’s chest at your gesture. But he restrained himself. “I want another one.” You whispered gently.

A smile broke greater than before out on his lips, his dimples showing. “I will not let anything happen to you. The moment your body is resisting, I will get you moon tea or whatever is necessary.” You nodded gently.

His eyes darkened with lust. “Now before we can even discuss the pregnancy, we must make it happen.”

He lifted himself so his arms were on either side of your head. “Oh my sweet, I longed to fill up your little cunny. Seeing it overflow with my seed. Stuffing it back in.” He laughed gently as you shuddered.

With haste born of his pent-up desire, he ripped all of your clothes off your and his body. You gasped softly, scolding him for literally ripping your nightgown. “I never liked it anyway.” He mumbled against the skin between your breasts. Slowly moving down to your stomach.

He worshipped your body, caressing your thighs and hips. Squeezing the flesh around them, even gently nibbling on it.

He kissed each and every lightning-bold-like scar. Mumbling with every kiss a small thanks. These were the marks of his children. Evidence of your brave sacrifice.

He went further down. His lips ghosted over the soft locks, his eyes watching you heave out breaths of anticipation.

A loud scream ripped from your throat when you felt his tongue plunge deeply into your wet core. The eagerness of his lapping overwhelmed your senses. His nose ever so lightly brushed against your pearl. Teasing it to shoot lightning throughout your body.

You came undone. His tongue, nose and two of his digits working in tandem to torture you. And it worked. Your back arched off the bed. Loud cries of his name and pleas for him to stop accompanied your downward spiral into the abyss of your pleasure.

He stared down at you hungrily. His vibrant eyes were dark with lust. He looked every bit the dragon he ought to be. “Little rabbit.” He growled out. “Sweet, little rabbit. Trapped beneath the large dragon.”

He leaned down again. Like Caraxes would decent upon his pray, Daemon came down upon you. Devouring you once more.

He held your thighs wide open as he ploughed into you. The wet sound of skin slapping against skin rang through the room. His large hand wrapped around your delicate neck, softly pressing against it. Your breathing coming out in small pants.

“You should see yourself, little darling. My large hand is like a necklace on your throat. I can nearly wrap it around.” He chuckled darkly.

His words elicited shivers to run up and down your spine. This action causes your body to tense slightly. Daemon roared as he felt you squeeze his cock. “Seven fucking hells, woman! Do you want to kill me?!” He panted out. Driving his cock deeper inside you. The stretch is a familiar pain. But not too unpleasant. He had prepared you for him. And he would hate for you not to enjoy your coupling.

He leaned down, capturing your lips in a soft, sensual kiss. It was so different from the way his hips moved. So slow and loving. “I am not hurting you, am I, my little darling?” He whispered. You shook your head. “Nothing I am not used to from you.” He grinned, nipping at your lower lip, “That’s my good girl.” He whispered.

He picked up his pace. His hands on your thighs clawing into your skin. His knuckles are white. He groaned and grunted, looking down at you with an intense stare. Your own moans and cries mingle with his. Creating a symphony of pleasure.

He came with a roar of your name, his face buried into your neck. Panting heavily next to your ear. Your own climax is triggered by the feeling of being filled with his potent seed. Both your eyes closed in bliss.

He stayed inside you even as his member softened inside you. The grip on your thigh remains tight. Like he needed to be grounded by you.

Your arms wrapped tighter around his neck, softly caressing his head. He hummed gently, letting you know he loved what you were doing. “Do not dare to stop.” He mumbled gently into your neck. You continued with your caress. Softly petting him like he was a dog.

He fell asleep like this. His spent cock inside you, keeping his precious seed inside you. His body acted like a blanket. Your hand in his hair.

YOUR HONOR, THIS MAN IS A SLUT FOR HIS WIFE

Kate & Anthony Bridgerton in Season 3 Trailer

a call to arms. part five.

— pairing: jacaerys velaryon x dragonseed!reader

— type: part of a series

— summary: you & jace hide yourselves away in a familiar alcove after a morning tiff.

— word count: 3,286

When you wake the next morn, you feel in at least slightly better spirits.

You’d, after your 'incident' with Jace, sent the coin he’d given you to your family in King’s Landing, writing for them to send notice to you as soon as possible, informing you that they've received it.

Once you’ve broken your fast and dressed, you emerge from your chambers, wanting for an early-morning walk along the beach…only to be greeted by an unfamiliar guard outside your door.

“Where…where is Ser Myles?”

He bows his head to you. “I believe he has been reassigned, My Lady.”

You blink up at the strange man before you, anger quickly flooding your every sense.

You head directly for Jacaerys’ room.

Jace is interrupted from breaking his fast by a loud pounding on his door.

He panics, immediately worried that, mayhaps, it is Baela. 

What if she knows of last night—what nearly occurred between the two of you? What if she has come to call off their betrothal? Gods, what in Seven fucking Hells had he been thinking? What has he been since your first meeting but a couple of nights ago?

When you’re near, he finds himself unable to think straight. You cloud his judgements. Rather, force him to think with only one part of himself—and it is most certainly not with what sits between his ears, but rather his legs.

He stands, walking toward the door—lightly jumping when the pounding begins again. He wrenches it open—ready to loose his sharp tongue on whomever has forgotten their manners so early in the morn, only to be immediately cut off by you barging into his chambers.

“Where is he?” You ask acidically, swiftly swinging round to him, your loose silver hair falling over your shoulders. 

His mouth tugs into a frown.

The pleasant girl from last night has clearly fled him once again, instead replaced by one filled with fire.

“You’ll need be more specific, I’m afraid,” he replies cooly.

You take a step closer, your hands balled into tight fists at your sides, your nostrils flared. “Ser Myles, my guard. Where is he?”

He grits his teeth. “He has been reassigned.”

“To whom?” You spit.

“Not to whom, but to where,” he states flatly.

You seethe. “You sent him away.”

“I did. He was no longer suited to his role here as your protector.”

“Because he dared touch me, as if I did not do it back?” You ask with a raised brow and a hammering heart.

He takes a small step toward you, and then another. “You barely knew him. Why does it matter?”

His brow twitches in irritation. “Unless it was more than just a few ‘innocent’ touches which were shared. Mayhaps...”

He grins then, chuckling darkly, shaking his head.

“What?” You bark with vehemence. 

He steps closer, followed by another step and another, while you back up, glancing behind you, the wall on the right side of the room growing ever-closer.

“It is just your nature, isn’t it? I should’ve known as much the night last when you encouraged me to…to dishonor my betrothed.”

Your jaw falls slightly open. 

“You can’t help yourself. A wanton woman who can think only with that which is between her le—”

You slap him.

Slowly, he turns back in your direction, watching silently as tears slip down your cheeks and your chin wobbles.

“I am not the only one to blame,” you say between sobs.

His face falls slightly at the state of you. Of his own causing, no less.

“He was my friend. He was like me: lowborn. I’d found someone to talk to, and you took him away from me. Leaving me left with only the likes of you. If you wish for someone to blame for what we did, you should first take a look in the mirror, and remember whom it was who summoned whom to sup with them.”

He remains silent, only breathing steadily as he continues to stare at you.

“Jealousy and pride is no excuse to treat people as you do: disposable, lesser than, inconsequential.”

You step closer, jutting your chin upward as you stare into his brown eyes. “We are many. It is all of you who is few. You should remember that for when you are one day king, and inevitably go a step too far.”

You turn, heading for the door, slamming it behind you.

You find a quiet spot on the beach where you turn your back to your new guard and cry. 

You refuse to even speak to him. Not because you do not wish to, but because you are afraid of what may happen to him if you try.

No place is safe here.

You are filled with immeasurable guilt. For Myles—losing his position here is all your fault. Had the two of you never met, he would still be in his position. And for Baela. 

You could see it yesterday when she looked at the two of you, could hear it in her tone—the worry that Jacaerys looks upon you in a way he should not. 

She deserves better than someone like him, you’re sure. Then again, she, too, is highborn. Most like, she sees you just as he does.

As they all do.

You hate it here.

You don’t bother coming in, even when you begin to shiver from being cold. You merely sit and stare at the endless expanse of sea that lies before you.

You know your guard must be growing tired, but when you had tried telling him that if he would like to go inside he may, he’d merely told you his post was protecting you.

So you drift away in your thoughts, returning to your small abode in King's Landing, pretending you are sat upon a rocking chair, your little girl in your lap as she snacks on pastries you've made for her as you tell her stories.

Mayhaps you should instead steal away on Silverwing, as opposed to remaining here. Offer yourself to the Greens. At least that way, you will be closer to home.

You cannot support a family such as this. Neither of them deserve that which they fight for.

You wrap your arms round yourself, debating.

Jacaerys had given you a bit of time after your morning tiff in hopes that you would cool down.

He, himself, has felt in a daze in the hours since—your heated words going round and round within his mind.

And the heartbroken look he had instilled upon your face... His own had deserved to sting in return when you repaid him for his offensive accusations.

And now he treads the beach in search of you.

He is unsure what he means to do when he finds you.

More lessons in High Valyrian? Gods know you need further tutoring.

Another flying lesson upon Silverwing? He is sure you do not wish to be so close to him again.

Not today, at the very least.

Just as he begins to consider turning round and going back inside, he spots you sitting atop a small boulder, your guard at your back as you stare at the sea that lies before you with a solemn, blank expression.

You look...pale. And you shiver from the cold.

Now he has driven you even from feeling welcome in the castle where you should instead be, finding warmth.

Not that he's sure you ever did feel welcome to begin with.

All his fault...

When he meets your guard's eyes, he motions for him to return to the castle, and the man bows his head in return before turning round to leave.

You do not even notice his sudden absence.

Nor do you notice as Jacaerys stalks ever-closer.

Not until he is draping a warm cloak round your shoulders do you realize his presence.

Your head shoots up, and you quickly scowl, promptly standing.

You throw off his metaphorical olive branch, quickly marching in the other direction.

"Stop," he calls to you, retrieving his cloak, jogging to catch up to you.

You keep your mouth clamped firmly shut, refusing to speak to him.

"Please stop. I only wish to—"

You skip ahead a few steps, nearly tripping over your skirts you're so eager to create distance between you and he.

He lets out a low curse, spots an opportunity off to the side, then swiftly reaches forward, taking your hand in an iron-tight grip as he pulls you alongside him into a familiar alcove.

"Let go of me!" You shout, trying desperately to yank yourself free of him.

He holds firm, refusing to let you escape him as he hides the two of you away round a corner.

He pushes you back against a stone wall, desperate to make you listen, until you slap his face again, tears running down your own.

"I hate you! I cannot stand the sight of you! Being near you is unbearable! You royal arse!"

You begin pounding tiny fists against his chest, trying to push him away, until he has reached his limit, and he pins your arms to the wall behind you, just the same as before.

"I'm sorry!" He shouts.

You quiet then, staring up at him with vehemence.

"For all of it. My beastly behavior since we met. It has been..." He shakes his head. "Un-princely of me. I just..."

He cannot say it—that he both envies your looks, while they are also simultaneously the reason he lusts after you. And that you have figured him out with ease time and again. His insecurities over someone like you claiming a dragon, which he had thought made him special to have. And someone like you somehow being more worldly than he—a royal prince.

You know more than him, and it had stoked his ire time and again with how...mature you seem. Making him feel a child in return.

But that same maturity... Gods, how he longs to see you exemplify it again and again.

"You just what?" You spit, pushing back against him, though it does you little good.

There is a brief silence which hangs between you, until he comes closer, the familiar feel of his erection becoming present as he presses it to your abdomen.

"I want you."

You roll your eyes. "As I am well-aware. The feeling is not returned, I assure you. Now, let me—"

"Gods, you're fucking impossible, aren't you?"

"Me?! You've no idea what you want. Me, or Baela, or—"

He crushes his lips to yours while you squeal and squirm against him. And then you clamp down on his lower lip, drawing blood.

He wrenches himself away, but still holds firm to you.

"You just...you just bit me!" He cries in shock.

"Try that again and I'll do it again," you seethe.

He sneers, squeezing your wrists impossibly tighter.

"Fine. Then I shall..." He pauses.

Is he truly about to do this?

He glances to the side—the direction of where the alcove's entrance lies—then back to you.

He releases you, kneeling.

"What're you—"

"Teach me," he says, blinking up at you.

And you stare down at him, taken aback, quickly cooling.

"Teach..."

He reaches beneath your skirts, sliding a warm hand up your calf.

"Teach me how to please you. Allow me to show you how truly sorry I am in this...other way," he says with a slight smirk.

"I have taught you much these last few days. It is time, mayhaps, you return the favor."

He slides his hand higher. "It will, after all, be for your own benefit, at least."

He presses a soft kiss to your stomach, over your dress. "Allow me to please you."

You swallow nervously. "Jace..."

His face slowly falls and he glances away, softly shaking his head. "Foolish," he whispers. "Forgive me—"

You shakes your head, not wishing to humiliate him. Not when it comes to this. Even if he mayhaps deserves to be hurt in return for how he did the same just this morn.

"No, it's just... How am I to trust that I...consent, and you do not, once again, throw it back in my face, just as you did with what occurred between us last night?"

He slides his hand up the back of your thigh. "You have me on my knees. Begging you to allow me to pleasure you. You need more reassurance that you have me at your mercy now?"

Your lip twitches. Oh, Gods, this is so very strange.

"What do you... I mean, there are many things..." You stumble over your words, searching for that which you mean to ask.

His eyes trail down your body before settling on that which is directly before him—hidden beneath skirts of his own selection.

"I would use my mouth, Y/N, if it please you."

"What of...Baela? Or... If this is your first experience, are you sure you—"

"I know what I want. And I know that it is you. Here. Now. Will you not allow me this most singular indulgence?"

Your heart pounds between your breasts and all sensations of cold have fled your body, instead replaced by a blooming warmth spreading across your electrified skin.

Finally, you nod.

And he smiles.

He reaches to the hem of your skirt, pushing it upwards, and you take it from him, holding it above your waist as he hooks his fingers under the waistband of your smallclothes, easing them down your thighs until they're pooled round your shoes.

You step out of them and he tucks them into his pocket before taking your bare hips in either of his hands, staring at your glistening cunt with wide eyes.

He licks his lips, swallowing thickly.

He gazes up at you once again. "How do I... What do I do, exactly?"

You nearly burst into a fit of nervous giggles, but use all your strength to fight the feeling down.

"Do you see...um...that small, fleshy hood—so to speak?"

He reaches forward, pulling it upwards, nodding, revealing a small pink pearl beneath.

"That—what you've just...revealed is what gives a woman her...pleasure."

He grins. "I believe I know all I need for the moment being."

And with that, he dives between your thighs, planting his full mouth openly against your sex, beginning to suck and run his tongue between your hot folds.

You throw your head back, sucking in a sharp gasp as your eyes flutter closed.

You quickly thread your fingers tightly in his dark curls, tugging his face impossibly closer to your sex.

You release a shuddering breath, sighing his name. "Jace..."

He reaches up, throwing one of your legs over his shoulder before he bends his neck to the side, diving ever-deeper with his tongue, desperate to fuck you with it.

He spreads your lips with his fingers, running his tongue along your dripping entrance, moaning against your heat.

"Gods, Jace, just like that."

His lip twitches, glad for your approval.

He kisses you sloppily, making loud, wet, smacking noises against your cunt—his cock straining painfully against his breeches all the while.

Palming himself over them only serves to makes the pain all the worse.

He breaks from you, staring up at you from under hooded lids—his face now slick from your arousal.

"May I untie my breeches, My Lady?"

Your brow twitches? He...he wants your permission to give himself relief?

"Y-yes, of course."

He nods, just once. "Thank you."

Your brows shoot up at his reply, watching as he tugs desperately against black leather strings. Finally, he reveals himself: long and hard, and the pink tip weeping with seed.

He does not stroke himself even once before he returns his full attentions, instead, to you.

And it is with fervor that he does.

He slurps and gasps and moans loudly in the back of his throat as he dines upon the most delectable part of you.

"Gods," he mutters against your mound. "You're so beautiful. Mm, and delicious."

He spreads your labia again, kneeling even lower as he flicks his tongue repeatedly against your pulsating entrance—dragging his speared tip back and forth, back and forth...

You gasp, clenching his curls tightly in both of your fists before pushing his face back against where you most want his mouth to be: against your clit.

"My clit—that...part I—"

He finds it instantly.

"Oh, Gods, good boy, Jace!"

He growls against you, his ministrations turning animalistic as he sucks and sucks against it, flicking his tongue, doing his utmost to please and tease.

You release his hair, tugging down the top of your gown, revealing your naked breasts before gathering your skirts again just as they've begun to slip over his head.

You want to see him.

Want to watch what he's doing to you.

Or, mayhaps, you are doing to him.

"Your fingers...slip two of them inside of me."

He does as instructed, easing them between your tight walls. The sensation he finds to be most unexpected: they are hot as fire, warm and wet and squishy, and utterly delightful.

Now he sees what all the fuss is about.

"Curl them upwards," you say between sighs.

He does.

"Now massage."

Slowly, he makes a beckoning motion with them and you gasp loudly, your eyes popping open.

"Yes, just like that. Good, you're doing so well!"

He pushes his face against your stomach—his nose pressed so hard into it that he can hardly breathe. So, he instead gasps for breath between your legs between long sucks and pleasant licks.

You bite your lower lip and Jace assumes he's most-certainly doing something right when those velvet walls begin to clench quickly around his soaked digits—your arousal so much that it's now running down his palm.

"Yes, yes, Jace, just like—oh, Gods, good boy—yes!"

He hums in contentment, glad to know he is doing right—is pleasing you so well in this way.

Your fingers tremble against his scalp, your breaths cause your body to shudder, and your thighs shake, but you do all you can to remain upright as you grow ever-closer.

He continually flicks his tongue against your too-sensitive bundle and you begin to whine in response.

"So close. You're doing so well... Gods, just a bit—just a bit more, My Prince"

He eases a third finger inside you, continuing to gently coax, and you gasp loudly.

"Yes! Yes! Nearly—"

He swirls his tongue round and round, on both his knees still, one of his hands tightly gripping your ankle for balance as he works fervently in your favor.

"Jace, oh Gods, I can't—I—Yes! Yes! Good boy! Yes!"

You finish against his face—against his tongue—giggling and gasping and whimpering all the while as your orgasm overtakes you.

You could swear you hear dragons roaring in the distance, but cannot know in your current state.

Eventually, you calm and when you look down, Jace is nearly on all fours, staring up at you with such a look as you have never before seen: lustful and wanton and overtaken with desire.

His face and hairline is slick, as well as his right hand.

Finally, he stands on wobbly legs, and it's then that you notice his cock is absolutely covered in his thick, white seed.

"Did...did you...?"

He crushes his lips to yours—his wet erection pressing against your bare stomach, leaving its own kiss in its wake as he pulls back after allowing you to taste yourself.

"I did not need even touch myself to finish at your hand," he mumbles with a pleased smirk, returning his lips to your own.

— tagging list: @emilynissangtr @tvangelism @aemondwhoresworld @cecestea @daisyhxsh

@burningwitchobject @zizouu23 @baybaybear1 @sugyomama @dracaryxzs

@hayloftxxo @gentlejoy @darlingcharling-blog @s0urw00lf @usaguisenpaisblog

@kqlopsia @marvel-at-stucky

Morning sex with Jace under the warm blankets? Yes please its gotta be under the blankets

Riding him while the first rays of sun come through the window, hitting him just right making his skin glow and his amber eyes sparkle. Tangled curls splayed out behind him on the pillow, surrounding his head like a halo

The sun hits his eyes making them look extra beautiful and they are looking up at you with so much love. You brace your hands on his chest rubbing up and down from his chest to his stomach and back up again over and over. His hands are holding your hips alternating between rubbing his hands up and down your middle and hips to squeezing your hips in pleasure. You are slowly moving up and down on top of him wanting to savor the feeling of his cock inside you. You wanted to really feel him and you want him to truly feel you.

He loves the view of you on top of him, naked and wearing nothing but sunlight looking like an angel above him. But he cannot stand not being close to you anymore, he cant stand not kissing you anymore. He surprises you by sitting up and pulling you close to him, chest to chest and he wraps his arms around you. “I love you so much” he says against your lips after kissing you. He used his hands on your back to guide you against each other, keeping the pace slow slow and sensual. He cant resist slightly bucking his hips up into you, making you gasp into his open mouth

oh. Oh. 👀👀🔥🔥 this was SO beautiful, I applaud you!! (hope you don't mind me tagging this so I can find it again <3)

This is art.

He's still in awe.

Reunited once more

so you see-

That’s it.

Appatent

part 4 of ‘Repentance’

warnings: smut, angst, jealous!Aemond.

a/n: I’m sorry if I missed you in the tag list, thank you all for waiting! <3 (If there are any typos  I miss, I apologise– I edited this messily lmao) 

Continua a leggere