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awakeshedreams · 3 years

Text

sugar and spice ( 1 )

pairing : resident bad boy!jjk x model student!reader

setting : highschool!au x stepbrother!au

summary :

a messy highschool!au x stepbrother!au where model student reader who has quite a few dirty little secrets sees her world take an unexpected turn when her mother comes home one day with an engagement announcement, to the father of none other than the school's resident bad boy.... Jeon Jungkook.

genre : smut, for laughs, kinda pornish, slow burn with collosaly overwhelming sexual tension

rating: soft m ( for now ) due to adult content

warnings : unconventional relationship of sexual nature, tropes and clichès, teenagers partaking in porn-esque activities, made up things with made up people happening in a made up world, don't like don't read XD

wordcount : 2.3K

a/n : i've been fighting in a long standing war and I have lost. the man known as jeon jungkook had his foot on my neck for years and today, I have finally submitted to my fate and surrendered to his reign.

yes. after a hundred years, i'm writing again. specifically, writing for bts. particularly, writing for jungkook. its been a long time coming.

life just took over and I transitioned into an adult and kind of grew out of the state of mind I was in before. but. sigh. jeon jungkook has been tormenting me the whole time. it was only a matter of time before i relapsed honestly.

so here I am again. in mind, body and spirit, a different person from who I was before but still the same in the sense that with the way bts have my whole heart, jk will always be the demon in the corner of my room that I invite to bed for a cuddle even though it's (probably really) not good for me.

do not misconstrue. I love him more than I can say. but. sigh. he has me in a chokehold, loves. please try to understand where I'm coming from.

anyways, enough with this ranting. you all came here for the nitty gritty so let me not hold you hostage with my dilemma rambling any longer. here's to the first bts fic i've posted in literal years. introducing- sugar and spice.

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Unless they told someone, no one would have been able to guess it.

At school they were complete strangers.

She was the nice head girl with a clean record, all smiles and straight A’s. He was the mysterious bad boy with a track record, all tatted up with bruised knuckles.

She wore plaid skirts with neat pleads in them and pastel sweaters with bows at the collar. He wore jeans with rips in them and leather jackets with studs.

They couldn't have been any more different.

As far as anyone was concerned, they existed on two extreme ends of a vast spectrum.

What they didn't know was that they shared a dirty little secret.

You were a girl with many dirty secrets.

For instance, you used to sell nudes online. It was a side hustle you did.

Not because you needed money.

Your mom was a renowned doctor so there was more than enough of that in your life.

Not because you needed validation from people online either.

Even without the constant compliments and the praises you knew you were visually blessed with a pretty face and a nice body too.

All things considered, you simply thought you had a nice pair of tits and you took pictures of them sometimes.

Posting the shots you snapped online came much later when you heard about this website where people were getting paid crazy money for posting racy things.

‘It’s just so degrading…’ It was one of your friends, June, who sneered, pretty nose scrunched up. She fixed her long ponytail and rolled her brown eyes while looking in the mirror at her locker. ‘Who would do such a thing, am I right?’

She said this, but June was the girl who has slept with more boys than she could count on her two hands. And those were the ones she told you about.

Like every other time, you said nothing. Even when it carried on to lunch with the rest.

‘Pretty desperate if you ask me.’ Mei the stellar track runner shrugged casually as she stretched her limbs like routine.

‘Where are their parents?’ Nina the library nerd shook her head in disapproval as she fixed her glasses so it sat right on the bridge of her nose.

‘Um… I don’t think it’s … appropriate… to talk about ….’ Kiko the one who always carried a cross and bible around mumbled into her sleeve.

All your friends spoke of it in derision and repulsion of course. This was a school for proper children so they were proper girls. At least they were supposed to be.

Regardless the conversation sparked a curiosity in you.

So you made an account and uploaded your first picture. Nothing bizarre. Just your tits in a pretty lace bra.

You made sure to keep your face out of the frame because that was the smart thing to do and you were nothing if not the smartest student in school.

In all honesty, you weren’t expecting anything out of it. In fact, in between work with student council and tutoring your juniors with finals right around the corner, you even forgot about it for an entire month.

It was by a complete whim that you decided to open the app while you’d been unwinding at your desk following a tedious day at school.

To say you were amused by the response you found waiting for you would have be a grave understatement.

You were staring at the four figure digit that now sat in your bank account.

Reading through the comment section was even more interesting.

There were all sorts of people there who had all sorts of things to say. Ranging from honestly sweet to downright dirty.

You had never been brought to tears laughing in her life before until then.

It was just so funny to see people misbehave and lose their minds over a pair of tits.

From then on it just sort of became a thing.

But that wasn't the worse of your secrets.

You were making a name for yourself on the crude web months later.

The next step was naturally to move from making taking pictures to making videos. Since you was already in too deep you didn’t see why not.

So you upgraded and opened another account. An amateur one where your touched yourself for an audience.

You were no prude.

You might have never been touched by a boy before but you had touched yourself plenty times. Stress and frustration came hand in hand with being head girl. Since you couldn’t quite vent it out at the annoying troublemakers at school, this was your second best option.

Third was watching porn, but that was mostly when you were extremely bored.

But that wasn’t where that little endeavor ended.

Later on it became a lot more risqué.

It all started when your mom hit you with a marriage announcement.

She met a guy on her business trip who she really liked and she was convinced he was the one.

Your mom had a tragic history of being a bad judge of character.

You’ve had this conversation at least five times since you became old enough to understand that boys and girls who were just friends didn’t kiss and sleep with each other.

Most times, it felt like she was doing it because she thought you needed a dad around.

You might have once, when you were younger and your mom was too busy with work to be there. But she worked from home these days and you were soo busy with school to worry about things like that.

This time it was like she was doing it for her. You were glad.

Your mom looked genuinely happy when she spoke about this guy.

Who were you to get in the way?

She spent almost the whole weekend in the kitchen. It was the longest you’ve seen her in there in your entire life.

She was excited for the dinner on Sunday.

Mr Jeon was the name of the chosen man.

He was coming over with his kid. A son, his only family. His wife passed away years ago.

You wore the dress your mom picked out for you, something cream in color and off the shoulders that brushed your knees. She looked pretty in her champagne dress. It was different from the office slacks and loose blouses you were used to seeing her in.

You stood by her at the door while the guests came through.

Lifting your head from a polite bow, you found herself staring straight into an achingly familiar pair of glinting dark eyes and went completely still.

‘Sweetie,' Your mother said sounding delighted, a soft hand on your stiff shoulder. 'This is Mr Jeon and his son Jungkook.’

Ah. Fuck.

‘Jeon dear, this is my daughter. Isn’t she lovely?’

Dinner was a mild affair, with small talk and the occasional clinking of cutlery on fine china.

From the outside looking in, you probably looked the picture perfect family already.

Only if no-one looked close enough.

Arms crossed, tongue in cheek. Your discomfort could be detected from miles away.

The two adults were oblivious.

The dark eyed boy with the slightest wave to his nape touching, brow grazing, ear covering onyx hair sat across you though; he took note of this with a passing glance and wordlessly returned to his food.

Jeon Jungkook had a countenance that betrayed his reputation.

Even though you’ve never talked, you knew plenty about him and you were sure he knew a lot about you too.

You went to the same school.

Dressed as he was in a crisp white dress shirt buttoned at the wrist and dark tailored pants with a fine belt on, it might have been hard to tell what kind of person he really was.

You lifted her gaze from your plate to look study him wordlessly, idly twisting the noodles with your fork.

People either called him the black sheep or the dark cloud but for you, Jeon Jungkook was the school’s resident lone wolf.

He smoked in the secluded areas on campus, sometimes playing his guitar. Beat up people who got on his nerves, sometimes using his guitar. Slept in class the rare times he was there, many times on his guitar.

Being his senior, you had never seen any of any of that for yourself. But you received plenty reports weekly to come to a sound conclusion.

There was no way people hated him enough to join hands in solidarity and make this all up.

It was quite the contrary actually. He had an alarming number of fans.

On the surface level you couldn’t see why. Most times you saw him, he looked bored out his mind and honestly, intimidating.

Maybe it was the tattoos. Or the ripped skinny jeans. Or the leather jackets with studs.

Maybe it was the domineering height and fit frame and structured face.

Maybe it was the intense dark eyes or the silky ruffled hair.

Even then, you failed to see the irresistible appeal in him. All those things that made him up only added to his unapproachable aura.

Bottom line was, he was bad news.

You didn’t want to be a spoil sport.

But how much of a thug your mom’s boyfriend’s son was shouldn’t be something that would make her like him less.

They were both their own people. Right ?

It was just that you just didn’t want her to be shocked and devastated if something happened later. When it happened.

Yet it seemed the serious conversation would have to wait.

After dinner your mom suggested you head to the living room to chat over wine and cheese.

You stayed back to do take out the dishes.

Earlier, your mom had stood to do it instead at first.

‘Don’t bother with that, dear.’ She reached for the plates in your hands. ‘Let me do it.’

‘It’s okay, mom.’ You smiled a little. ‘This is your night. I’ll meet you in the living room.’

'Sweetie...' Your mom looked close to tears. ‘But there’s so much of it…’

‘Jungkook,’ his father's voice had cut through the moment. He was a serious man in a crisp suit with a stoic countenance. His voice was just naturally authoritarian without him trying ‘Give her a hand.’

Jungkook stood, almost robotically.

‘It’s fine.’ You said. Politely. Nicely. Tightly. ‘I can handle this much.’

You left without another word.

That had been moments ago and now you were done with cleaning.

You stood at living room entrance for a while, taking in the scene.

The two adults were exchanging moon eyes and whispering in each other’s ears at the love seat.

Jungkook was sitting on a solo seat, but he was on his phone, completely unbothered by what was happening.

Your mom seemed to think it was the perfect time to pull out the photo album right then and there upon seeing you.

It was embarrassing but at least you knew you didn’t have to worry about the pictures spreading at school.

Jungkook was looking, picking up a picture occasionally to rove over, but he wasn’t the type to do that.

He also wasn’t the type to stare but you felt his glance shifting to you and lingering multiple times.

Once, you caught his eyes and he just stared at you across the coffee table wordlessly with a curious tilt to his head, idly flipping a picture of you dressed as a knight in glitter shining armor for Halloween at eight in his hands.

Honestly, it was starting to get annoying.

But you endured. For your mom’s sake.

Your alarm went off at exactly ten.

As subtly as you could, you excused yourself with an apology to the guests, saying you weren't really feeling well.

In hindsight you probably should have used a better excuse.

Your mom was notorious when it came to worrying, especially when it comes to your health.

Also, you probably should’ve locked the door before undressing just for good measure since people were over.

But in the moment, you were too busy setting your camera up where you were kneeling on the floor at the foot of the bed to be concerned about that.

That day you were testing out a new toy.

Distractedly, you took note of a couple of people asking you if that was your boyfriend’s shirt you had lifted over your tits.

You ignored them.

Couldn’t a girl own an oversized tee without getting any flack?

Trivial comments like that aside, a good majority of the audience are fawning over how wet you were and how perfect you bouncing tits look being played with.

Your head fell back and your eyes fluttered shut.

You were sitting there, knees raised to your chest and legs splayed, your gushing pussy in full display where the toy was stuffed deep into her tightness, vibrating pleasantly.

‘I’m close…’ you mumbled throatily, squeezing your tits and pinching your stiff nipples in between your moving fingers. You moved your hips move faster, feeling the toy buzz against fluttering walls. You took a hand off one of your tits to rub at your engorged clit. ‘Fuckfuckfuck…’

Deep in your high, you didn’t hear the door open and close with a foreboding click.

You only heard your name being called by a deep, smooth voice through the heady haze.

Instantly you stilled.

When you snapped your head to look over her shoulder Jungkook was there, hands in his pockets, leaning against your doorframe with his sleeves drawn up to his elbows, muscle roped, inked skin on full display.

When he tilted his head to the side a little, appraisively, you dared to say as a quaking chill ran down your spine and your entire body felt like it was about to burst into flames, a bit of his hair fell over his face.

His eyes were like two black in the dark as he took you in, dragging his gaze up and down your exposed body languidly.

In the back of your mind, you wished the ground would part and swallow you whole.

‘Your mom,' he starts, capturing your attention wholly, dark gaze finally flickering to your face, his voice suddenly lower, hoarser. ‘She sent me over to check on you.’

It took you a moment to realize where you were, who you were, who he was.

It was like a bucket of cold water had been dropped over your head.

Jeon Jungkook, the school's resident trouble maker, soon to be your step brother, just walked in on you fingering yourself in in front of a recording camera.

Well. Yeah.

You gulped.

You were royally fucked.

depending on the response I get I might ( most probably will ) delete this. not because I'm ashamed of my work. because I'm embarrassed of myself. I really swore to never write again and here I am. sigh. yes, I have seen my previous works and noticed just how terrible they were and this is a big reason why. so sorry for putting you through that. a million apologies.

also, that's right. I have adopted a new style which might not be to everyone's liking. another reason why.

anyways, if you liked this filth ( i know it seems mild but I can tell you it's very likely gonna get worse ) please idk uh... fuck this isn't ao3. hm.

like and drop by in the ask box if you liked it and want to see more. it makes me happy. its like serotonin fuel to me.

have a nice day. see you next time ( maybe ). stay fresh. yeah. 💜💜.

#bangtan #bts #bts angst #bts fluff #bts imagine #bts scenario #bts smut #bts au #jeon jungkook #jungkook scenario #jungkook imagine #jungkook smut #bts x reader #jungkook x reader #bts high school au #jungkook high school au

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erensangel444 · 3 years

Text

wedding bells

eren jaeger x reader x mikasa ackerman

modern!au

this shit.... is a dream come true!

this fic is eren + mikasa x fem!reader, if you guys would want to see some gender neutral fics just let me know in my asks inbox! i’m open to any suggestions, if you want a fic that’s specifically tailored to you whether that be race-wise, gender-wise, any disabilities, etc,. just let me know!

likes/reblogs/comments are always appreciated:D

this fic has been proofread but if i missed something just let me know!

a/n: i saw someone(who is a wedding planner) describe an instance similar to this, on reddit, and i just had to write it.

i don’t care what anyone says, eremika is my otp. on the flip side, jean’s feelings for mikasa are so cute and it makes my heart do flips.

warnings: language(most of my fics do contain language), smut; degrading, threesome, unprotected sex w/ creampie, voyeurism, cuckolding in a way?? but not really cause the reader fucks both of em so 🤨, oral(male and fem!receiving), permission needed to orgasm, slapping(slightest bit, not a huge portion of the smut)

word count: 5.3k

summary: wedding planning is a chaotic affair. some couples were very demanding, leaving no room for friendliness, the professionalism somewhat overbearing. with this couple though, there’s room to get friendly.

your legs were propped up on your desk, the eraser end of a pencil in between your teeth. your eyes were trained on your computer screen, analyzing the june month of your calendar. a knock on your door interrupted your train of thought, your legs falling back to the floor at the sound. “mrs. y/l/n, it’s your 2 o’clock appointment,” your assistant’s voice sounding from behind the door.

“come in,” you replied, your voice accompanied by a soft lilt. your door swung open, your assistant standing beside a couple, a beautiful one at that. if you had lacked any sense of professionalism, drool might have dribbled out of the side of your mouth.

“have a seat,” you gestured towards the chairs on the opposite side of your desk, “thank you marylin,” you smiled at your assistant, turning your attention back to the couple in front of you.

now that they sat in front of you, you had a clearer look at their appearance. you noticed the way their hands were latched together, the image making you smile. “nice to meet you, i’m y/n, which you already knew i guess,” you laughed, the man and woman in front of you joining in.

already the room had an aura of comfort. they had told you their names, eren and mikasa, mikasa’s last name soon to be jaeger. eventually, the conversation had shifted into small talk as you nodded at the words falling from mikasa’s lips, a sign that you were listening intently.

you had asked how they met, a common question you asked to most of the couples who became your clients, but with them, you were actually interested in their answer. “a pastry shop,” eren smiled, turning to mikasa. “the owner, levi, is actually attending our wedding as the matchmaker, he convinced me to make a move,” he finished.

you couldn’t help but smile at the story, and smile at the couple in front of you. you could feel the happiness radiating off of them, their happiness rubbing off on you.

“do you guys have a theme that you’re thinking for the ceremony?”

the sun had slowly began it’s descent, the evening sun shining through the window behind you. discussion about the wedding had come to an end about an hour ago, the preliminary details sorted out. the professional conversation had died down, there was no reason for the appointment to continue, yet, a part of you didn’t want the couple to leave, and it didn’t seem like they were eager to go either.

mikasa’s laughter sounded throughout the room as you recalled a bridezilla that you had dealt with a couple of years ago. eren smiled at the sound of mikasa’s laughter, turning towards you, the smile remaining. “so, i’m scheduling another appointment for january, we’ll discuss invitation cards, catering, and we can look at venues if you don’t already have an idea for where you want the wedding to take place,” you smiled softly.

“thank you so much,” eren said, standing up and holding his hand out for you to shake. you stood from your chair also, shaking eren’s hand, walking towards the door. you held the door open for the couple, the subtle smile yet to leave your face.

“thank you again,” mikasa smiled at you. you felt your cheeks heat up at her appreciation. “of course, anytime, feel free to call if you need anything,” you said, waving at the couple as they walked down the hall. you were excited for this wedding, more so than any other one that you had planned.

fuck, you need a cold shower.

the meeting in january had happened a month ago. you had customized a design for the invitation based on mikasa and eren’s descriptions. they loved it, so the invitations were sent in the mail, the wedding set for the month of june.

like the previous one, the appointment had run over, spending an hour talking to the couple, laughter sounding throughout the room. now, a month later, you were rushing to a bridal store, a to-go coffee cup in your hand as you walked quickly.

mikasa had invited you to dress shopping, a couple of her bridesmaids tailing along as well. you opened the door to the store, your breath quick from rushing as you looked around the for mikasa. you smiled once meeting mikasa’s eyes. she returned your smile with her own as she waved you over.

she had introduced you to all of her bridesmaids, the group of you talking about your shared excitement for mikasa’s wedding. you talked with the group, though you felt like you were intruding, seeing as you hadn’t known mikasa as long as these women. you were the wedding planner though, so it wasn’t odd that you were here, right?

all those thoughts flushed from your head when mikasa stepped out from the dressing room, the store assistant following behind her. she looked beautiful, the canvas white color of the dress acting as a parallel against her skin, a veil casted over her face.

the women beside you cheered, yet you still stared in astonishment. realizing that you were the odd one out, your bottom lip caught between your teeth, you quickly joined in, clapping along with the women beside you. mikasa did a little twirl as a joke, and you whistled in response, the playful banter making you smile.

mikasa’s eyes shifted over to you as she smiled, “you look amazing,” you said softly, your words drifiting into a fluttery sigh. “thank you,” mikasa said, her voice almost a whisper. “um, would you want to come with me after this? i have some more shopping to do, and all my friends have somewhere to be,” your heart shouldn’t have pulsated the way it did at her offer.

“of course,” you smiled, ushering her over to her friends who were eager to give their compliments to the soon-to-be-bride.

how you had ended up inside a victoria’s secret dressing room with mikasa, her hands tugging at the bottom of her shirt, was beyond you. all you could do now was attempt to avert your eyes as she lifted the shirt over her eyes.

she had gone to a couple shops before stopping in the lingerie store just for a ‘quick look’. a ‘quick look’ had somehow led to the pair of you venturing into the dressing room, mikasa’s hands full of bralettes covered in lace and different lingerie pieces.

“what do you think of this one,” her voice broke the silence. well, now you had to look up at her. you lifted your head from the floor, stopping your jaw from falling slack, forcing your expression to be rigid. in the moments between your eyes falling to the floor and now, mikasa’s jeans had come off too.

she now stood in a white lace bra, the dark areolas of her nipple visible through the fabric. a white lace thong accompanied the number on her upper half, sending you into an undeniable heat. your cheeks flushed as you licked your lips before responding, “i-it’s beautiful, i think eren will love it,”. you forced your eyes to remain on her face. “do you like it?” she asked, her voice having something hidden behind it.

“m-me?” you asked, though you already knew the answer. mikasa nodded, smiling at you. “i-i like it,” you stuttered through a sentence, your cheeks growing hotter, “i think it looks really good on you,” you whispered the last bit. mikasa grinned at that, her hands reaching for the clasp of the bra.

your eyes quickly fell back to the floor, mikasa grabbing another set that was sitting beside you on the bench in the dressing room. your eyes remained glued on the floor as you felt mikasa’s shoulder brush against yours. as quickly as you felt the brush of her skin against yours, it was gone, yet the feeling in your stomach had yet to subside.

it was now may, a month before the wedding and mikasa had asked you over for coffee, in desperate need of someone to expel the worries she had about the wedding. you had obviously obliged, putting mikasa’s address into the map on your phone.

after the day at victoria’s secret, you had seen eren and mikasa a few more times, mainly to discuss the wedding. they had invited you over for dinner as a thanks, their hospitality was heartwarming.

you found yourself parking your car in front of their home once again, walking towards the front door. you rang the doorbell, slightly shifting from the ball of your foot to the heel in anticipation. to your surprise, eren opened the front door, and before you could stop yourself a slight gasp fell from your lips.

“what? expecting someone different?” he joked, smiling at you. you laughed softly before speaking, “i have a date with your fiancé,” you joked, holding up the two coffees in your hand. eren stepped out of the doorway, motioning for you to go inside.

you had a general idea of the layout of their home from your previous visit, so you headed towards the kitchen, setting the coffee cups down on the table. “mikasa actually just had to leave,” eren said from behind you, “some emergency at work,” he sat down in a seat at the kitchen table. “oh,” you said, not knowing how to respond, standing awkwardly beside the table.

“i don’t mind if you stay though,” your eyebrows furrowed at his words, but the blush that rushed to your cheeks was easily distinguished, “until she comes back i mean,”. you nodded sheepishly, mentally hitting yourself for reading into eren’s words. you sat down, opposite from eren, pushing one of the coffees towards him.

“thanks,” he smiled, taking a sip from the paper cup. you sat in silence for a moment, before eren asked you a question. “are you dating someone?” you gulped your coffee at that, coughing soon after from the rush of liquid. “s-sorry! that was abrupt,” he yelped.

“n-no you’re okay,” you reassured him, setting your coffee cup on the table. “i’m not dating anyone, no,” you said, your left hand digging into your thigh. “that surprises me,” eren replied, his eyes boring into yours. ‘hmm?’ you hummed in question, attempting to retain a calm exterior, though it was hard to ignore the way your heart was beating.

“i mean with being a wedding planner and everything, i feel like you see love all the time and you’d want your own shot at it,” eren started, “i would bet you have people lining up too,”. you blushed profusely at his words, ignoring any deeper meaning behind them.

“i-i guess you’re right, i do see a lot of love, but that’s also why i’m not in a relationship. i get my full share of love, at work, you know? i’m always managing other people’s love lives, i don’t want to throw mine on top of that,” you rambled, letting out a deep breath at the end. eren nodded in understanding, smiling before talking.

“so more of a friends with benefit thing? hit it and quit it?” he laughed, the feeling in your stomach and the heat in your cheeks growing at his words before you spoke. “i manage pretty okay by myself,” you laughed softly, attempting to ease your nerves. “k-know how to take care of myself,”. as soon as the words fell from your lips, you instantly regretted them. you didn’t want him to think you were insinuating something lewd with your words.

eren just smirked at you, the sound of the front door opening startling you. mikasa made her way into the kitchen, smiling when she saw you. “eren leave my date alone,” she joked, leaning down to give him a kiss. what you thought would be a peck, was a passionate kiss. you caught glimpses of their tongues slipping into the other’s mouth before you had to look at the floor.

“let’s go sit out back,” mikasa said to you as she pulled away from eren’s lips, panting.

it was now june, and you found yourself in the countryside of italy, lying on your bed, reading a book. the wedding was to take place in two days, the happy couple renting out a villa for the guests to stay at. your window was open to cool down your room, the slight breeze brushing across your legs, the noise of crickets softly easing the silence of the night.

your peace was interrupted by a knock on your door. you huffed out a breath, swinging your legs off of the bed and onto the floor, making your way to the door. you looked through the peephole, sucking in a breath after looking through it. mikasa and eren stood outside your door, both in nightclothes. you felt anxious, worried that something was wrong, but opened your door nonetheless.

“hey, are you guys alright?” you spoke softly, both eren and mikasa nodding. “can we come in?” eren said, you nodded in response, still confused but holding the door open for the couple. “we want t-” eren started before mikasa cut him off with her hand. at mikasa’s interruption, eren went to shut your window with an explanation of “it’s so cold in here,”.

“i’m sorry about that,” she sighed, “eren thinks we should’ve done this months ago, so now he’s being overly blunt, but i think there’s a polite way to go about it,” her voice was low, but still had the same softness along with it. “we wanna fuck you,” eren blurted out, your jaw dropping at his words. “eren!” mikasa punched his bicep, eren grinning sheepishly.

“what? it’s true,” he rationalized. you were still reeling at his words and mikasa could tell. she made her way over to you, her hand rubbing at your shoulder as she spoke, “you’ve done so much to help us, and we’ve both wanted to from the start,” she looked at you intently, searching your expression. “jus’ wanna help you out,” eren joined in.

“do you want that?” mikasa said, pulling her hand away in fear of making you uncomfortable. you nodded meekly, unable to hold eye contact with either of them. “look at me and say it,” mikasa’s voice was more stern now. you looked up at her, meeting her eyes that had seemingly grown darker.

“yes, want it,” you were panting, yet you hadn’t done anything to run out of breath. “good,” eren sighed from beside you, his lips quickly finding purchase along your neck as he left kisses along the expanse of skin, suckling at different spots.

mikasa’s hand fell to your chin, lifting your face up before leaning in for a kiss. you fell stiff for a second, before melting into her lips. their lips were sending you into overdrive, mikasa’s hand falling to the back of your head to pull you in closer.

she pulled away, a string of saliva connecting your lips together, her eyes glossed over with desire. “arms up” eren commanded plainly as he moved away from your neck. you obliged quickly, mikasa’s hands grabbing at the bottom of your shirt and pulling it over your head.

“fuck,” mikasa sighed, her eyes boring holes into your breasts. you were getting ready for bed so you hadn’t had a bra on, your nipples stiffening at the brush of cold air. “so pretty, isn’t she kasa’” eren sighed, turning towards his soon-to-be-wife.

mikasa simply nodded, licking her lips before her hand gravitated towards your breast, groping softly at the skin. you threw your head back at the slight contact, trying to calm your heartbeat and the thoughts rushing through your head. too consumed with the situation, you hadn’t notice eren’s lips on your nipple until you felt his tongue lick at the hardened pebble.

you whimpered softly at the feeling, eren laughing against your skin, taking your moans as encouragement. eventually, eren’s mouth was wrapped around one nipple, mikasa’s wrapped around the other. your hands fell to their hair, your mind reeling at the pleasure.

you couldn’t help but look down at them, the sight increasing your pleasure. your eyes shifted between the two of them, eren’s eyes twinkling with mischief, mikasa’s laced with desire.

“i think she deserves a treat, don’t you think so eren?” mikasa mumbled against your skin. eren simply nodded, his hands playing with the waistband of your sleep shorts.

you found yourself now, lying against eren’s chest, eren’s back up against the headboard, your shorts discarded along with your panties. eren’s hands traced patterns on the sides of your hips as mikasa ran a finger through your slit. she lifted her finger up in the light, your arousal evident on the digit.

“you’re excited, huh?” eren teased from behind you. you could feel his bulge pushing into your lower back, and you shifted to roll against it, eren letting out a soft sigh. one of eren’s hands drifted down towards your clit while mikasa placed kisses on your thigh, slowly inching towards your dripping center, but avoiding it to tease you further.

“make her wait a little, babe’”, mikasa looked up at eren, a smirk on her face. “she’s been good,” eren said, his voice soft. his thumb now rubbed soft circles into your clit, your head falling onto his shoulder. “w-want more,” you whimpered, attempting to thrust into eren’s thumb.

“see?” mikasa said from below you, staring right up at you, “give her a little and she starts begging like a whore,”. you whimpered at her words, desperate for some relief, desperate for an orgasm, desperate for something, anything.

“you want it?” she asked, slowly inserting one of her finger’s into your dripping hole. “yes! p-please,” you begged, desperate for mikasa’s mouth and fingers. she just chuckled, letting out a plain “fine,” before her lips wrapped around your clit sucking on the bundle of nerves.

“fuck!” you yelped, eren’s hand now groping at your breast as he littered kisses along your shoulder and neck. mikasa now had two fingers inside of you, their speed increasing as she placed kitten licks on your clit. you squirmed from the pleasure, the feeling overwhelming, your body telling you to get away, but you loved it. you wanted more, “more!” you whimpered.

mikasa’s mouth now met her fingers at your entrance, licking below your clit. eren’s hand drifted down towards the bundle of nerves, rubbing quick figure eights, your hips spasming at the feeling. “g-gonna cum!” you shouted, possibly a little too loud.

“yeah?” eren sighed, “gotta ask us first,”. you looked down a mikasa, her eyes the only thing you could see. “need permission to cum,” she mumbled into your pussy, the vibration sending shock waves through your body. it was hard to hold back, you needed to cum, but you couldn’t, not without permission.

“p-please! i’ll be so good, just need to cum, need it bad, need it please!” you moaned loudly, your hips bucking into mikasa’s mouth and eren’s hand. “think she deserves it?” mikasa asked, looking up at eren. she moved away from your dripping center, her fingers still plunging in and out of you as she waited for eren’s response.

“i think she’s been good,” eren answered, looking down at mikasa. he turned towards you, his lips tickling your ear, “you’ve been good right? good girls deserve to cum,” you moaned loudly at his words. you couldn’t hold back anymore, you needed it. “cum,” mikasa said plainly, her lips falling back to lick at your dripping hole.

at her permission, your mind fell blank, your hips short-circuiting, your orgasm building until you fell over the edge. it resonated throughout your body, sending a hum throughout your system. you had never felt this fucking good.

as you came down, mikasa slowly slid her fingers out. you were panting, your chest rising and falling rapidly as you met mikasa’s eyes, a smile on her face. she turned away from you, looking towards eren before speaking, “wanna taste her?”. you looked back to eren, still hazy from your orgasm to meet his enthusiastic nodding and the smirk on his face.

eren opened his mouth, mikasa slipping her fingers onto his tongue. he wrapped his lips around the digits, suckling. the image made your center throb, eren staring right at you as he licked your arousal off of mikasa’s fingers.

“what? something wrong?” mikasa teased as she removed her fingers from eren’s lips, your mouth wide open at what you had just witnessed. “w-wanna watch, wanna see you both, together,” you said shyly. eren and mikasa just smiled at you before turning back to one another, and leaning in for a kiss.

their lips locked with a moan, the image before you reminding you of that day in their kitchen. only now, they were doing it because you wanted them to, because you wanted to watch. “fuck,” you sighed, crossing your legs in hope of friction, in hope of some relief.

the sensitivity from your orgasm had worn off, eren and mikasa kissing in front of you causing a spike in your libido. “want you both to suck my cock,” eren said breathlessly, pulling away from mikasa. you looked over at mikasa for reassurance, and she nodded with a soft smile. you looked back to eren, settling yourself next to mikasa, in between his legs.

at some point he had gotten rid of his pants, the only thing separating you from his cock being his boxers. mikasa palmed at his erection through the fabric as you watched her movements before looking back up at eren timidly. his hand drifted down to your hair, rubbing at your head in appraisal.

you gave him a soft smile before reaching for the waistband of his boxers. with mikasa’s help, you pulled the cloth from off of his body, being met with his hard cock. the tip was an angry red and leaking precum, and you could’ve sworn it twitched slightly. how long had he been like this?

no matter, you were going to help him now, you were gonna take good care of him. you wanted to help him and mikasa, wanted them to take care of you. you licked a stripe up his cock, mikasa acting as a parallel on the other side.

you heard a low groan from above you, taking it as encouragement as you wrapped your lips around the tip of his cock before lightly sucking. you licked at the underside of his cock, and in the corner of your eyes you could see mikasa licking at the base of his cock, her hand fondling with his balls.

“fuck,” eren sighed from above you. you wanted to hear him moan more, so you took him deeper down your throat, mikasa licking at what you didn’t reach. eren let out more sighs and whimpers, throwing his head back at the feeling. you pulled off of his cock, spit covering his length as you switched spots with mikasa.

she took his whole length down her throat, deepthroating him, a slight gag sounding throughout the room. you couldn’t help but whimper at the sight before you, wanting to do the same as mikasa, wanting to take him as good as her.

“wanna try?” she panted, pulling away from eren’s cock as she looked at you. you nodded, afraid to respond verbally, fearing that your words would do you an injustice. she wrapped one hand in your hair, pushing you towards his cock. before you could wrap your lips around his tip she spoke, “if you wanna pull off, tap eren’s thigh twice, okay?” she announced, looking at you for reassurance. you muttered out an ‘i will,’ wrapping your lips around eren’s cock.

“take him nice and slow,” mikasa said from behind you, her hand still in your hair. you could hear eren’s fluttery sighs, the sounds increasing the arousal collecting at your dripping hole. “t-take your time, pretty,” eren groaned from above you. you looked up at him and as you met his eyes, eren let out a moan, throwing his head back.

“if you look at me like that, i’m gonna blow,” he teased, the light laugh at the end of his sentence turning into a moan. “ready to take him all the way?” mikasa asked, and you nodded as best you could with your mouth full of his cock.

mikasa slowly but surely pushed your head further down his cock, your throat filling with his length. you gagged slightly right before bottoming out, eren verbally reeling at the feeling. as you reached the base of his cock, you gagged once more, your eyes watering at the pressure. you could feel your jaw becoming sore, your nose taking in harsh breaths, but you reveled in the feeling.

you wanted eren’s cock deep down your throat, wanted to be good for him. mikasa pulled you off his length, a line of saliva in between your lips and the tip of his cock. “did so good,” mikasa assured you, pulling you in for a kiss. you relished in the feel of her lips on yours. she pulled away from you, leaning up towards eren and kissing him. “so hot,” you sighed absentmindedly, eren and mikasa laughing into the kiss.

“yeah?” eren teased, “i think you’ve yet to give me a kiss,” intense eye contact being shared between you two. you leaned up next to mikasa, hovering your lips over eren’s before closing your eyes and kissing him. his kiss was different from mikasa’s but similar in the pleasure you felt from it. you pulled away with a blush flushing across your cheeks.

“c-can i watch first?” you asked, looking between both eren and mikasa before looking down at your hands. mikasa’s hand grabbed at your chin, lifting your head up to look at her. “wanna watch him fuck me first?” you nodded enthusiastically.

eventually you situated yourself against the headboard, eren and mikasa next to you. he had her in doggystyle, his hands grabbing at her backside before he positioned the tip of his cok at her entrance. eren pushed in, both of their faces contorting in pleasure. your hand drifted down to your clit, rubbing soft circles onto your clit as you witnessed the scene unfall in front of you.

as eren began to thrust faster inside of her, mikasa’s head fell into the pillow, her moans slightly muffled by the mattress. your pace on your clit increased as the pace of eren’s thrust increased. his hand barreled down onto her ass, the smack sounding throughout the room. mikasa let out a yelp at the feeling, your bottom lip now situated between your teeth in response to the couple before you.

eren had grabbed at mikasa’s hair, pulling her back to rest against his chest. “cum on my cock,” he commanded, thrusting into her harshly. mikasa obliged with a moan that was close to a shout. eren let go of her hair, mikasa falling back into the pillow as eren’s thrusts slowed.

eren pulled out of mikasa, giving her a light tap on the ass before rubbing at the small of her back. “did so good,” he muttered out softly, his eyes falling onto you. “want you to ride my cock,” he said plainly, smiling at you. “do you want a condom, o-or do we need to get one because i kno-” you rambled, “are you safe?” eren asked softly. you nodded, assuring him that you got tested a month ago and hadn’t hooked up with anyone else in between now and then.

“are you on the pill,” you nodded once again, no verbal response this time. “well then i think it’s alright if i leave you with a big load, deep inside of you, huh? would you like that?” you nodded, unable to respond, your cheeks heating up. “ do you think that would be nice, mikasa?” eren asked his fiance, who now leaned up against the headboard.

“i think she wants it real bad, think you should give it to her,” she taunted, staring at you. “think you’re right,” eren said as he laid down on the bed, his head on the pillow. “want you on my face, kasa’, and you on my cock, angel,” you whimpered softly, situating your legs on the outside of eren’s thighs. you held the tip of his cock at your entrance, pushing it inside of you as you slowly slid down his length.

“f-fuck,” you sighed as you bottomed out, eren’s cock brushing up against that spot against you. mikasa was rocking her hips against eren’s mouth, her fluttery moans sounding throughout the room. you began to slowly bounce on eren’s cock, your hands placed on his toned stomach for support. as his cock pushed in and out of you, reaching deep inside of you, mikasa pulled you in for a kiss, moaning into your lips.

she pulled away with a smirk, her face contorting in pleasure soon after. “fuck! do you like it?” she moaned, flicking her hips against eren’s tongue more eagerly. “like him deep inside of you?” she continued, to which you nodded, unable to verbalize your pleasure, grinding against eren’s cock.

it all happened in an instance, you felt a sting on your face, your eyes tearing up slightly from the pleasure and the unanticipated pain. “i expect an answer when i ask you something,” mikasa said, her voice airy but the seriousness behind her tone still evident. she had slapped you. god, you wanted more. “y-yes i’ll answer!” you moaned, bouncing on eren’s cock with earnest.

“f-fuck gonna cum!” mikasa yelped, her hips stuttering. eren’s hand fell on her hips, rocking her against his tongue, licking at her pussy until she fell apart on his face. after reaching her peak she swung her leg over, resting on the bed beside you and eren’s figures. “f-fuck angel,” eren groaned, “ride my cock just like that,”. you bounced more eagerly now, desperate for orgasm. you were so close.

“cum on my cock, come on wanna see you cum all over me,” eren’s words were the final push, your walls clenching around eren’s cock as you came. “fuck!” eren all but yelled, his hands grabbing at your hips. “g-gonna, gonna” he moaned before he came, his hot load released deep inside of you. “s-so warm,” you sighed, falling further into that hazy space.

eren lifted you off his cock slightly as you winced at the stretch. after pulling you off his cock, he laid you to the opposite side of him, pulling both you and mikasa into his figure. he left a kiss on your forehead before softly speaking, “did so good for us,”. mikasa hummed in agreement before her soft voice sounded throughout the room, “so good,”.

the wedding had taken place and it was beautiful. the ceremony was stunning, and you found yourself crying at their vows, the love they shared so evident in the way the looked at one another.

they drove off from the villa in a silver 1954 corvette, just married reading as the license plate. the wedding invitees waved them off, whistles sounding off into the distance. you had spent a couple more days in italy after the wedding, spending your time at a hotel, adventuring, and trying out restaurants.

before you were set to leave for home, your phone pinged with a message, the contact name reading ‘eren jaeger & mikasa jaeger’. reading the text left a smile on your face and a feeling of anticipation to thrum throughout your system.

‘the honeymoon is amazing!! we wanted to thank you again for all your help. we’ll be back in the states in a week. hopefully you’ll find time to fit us in your schedule, there’s so much to discuss. we need your expertise on a wide variety of matters, so many more weddings for us to plan and all that;)’

fin

HEY! thank you so much for reading :D this fic is legit a dream fantasy, new nightime scenario :/// in all seriousness, i loved writing this so it means a lot that you’re reading it.

love u love u love u love u

take care of yourself <3

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yellowmagicalgirl · 3 years

Text

No Reason for Love

Krel wakes up to find Douxie sleeping on top of him.

So, what was that saying? Write while exhausted as the pills to make you tired kick in, edit the next morning? That was me with this fic because I wanted to get it done before RotT. This only has vague spoilers for the trailer.

CW: Body dysmorphia, self esteem issues, offscreen death, one gore reference, and one reference to sex (in terms of differences of Akiridion vs human reproduction; the gore reference is more graphic than the sex reference, and all characters depicted are adults)

AO3

FFN

Krel woke up to the feeling of pressure running along his body. He opened his eyes.

Oh. Right. Douxie and Krel had been watching a movie on Krel’s phone, and they had fallen asleep together. Or, more specifically, Douxie had fallen asleep on top of Krel, with his head directly on top of Krel’s core.

No.

On top of Krel’s cores.

That’s why they were here, after all. Krel was in (self-imposed, because his friends and family trusted him too much) exile in a quadrant of deep space, where he shouldn’t be able to hurt anyone. That had been the plan after Krel had stabbed himself with Gaylen’s core. Oh, he was strong enough to defeat the Arcane Order, but he was dangerous. He was too dangerous to be around people.

His boyfriend had decided that he was the exception to this rule, and Krel had been too selfish to say no, that they’d have to date at an even further distance than they had been for the six weeks they’d been dating.

And yes, Krel knew that Douxie had come with him for more reasons than Krel’s benefit, but Douxie could surely grieve Nari and Archie in a safer way than running off to live alone with the dangerous newly-made abomination of a god. Yes, Krel was an abomination, even if his friends, sister, and boyfriend all hated it when Krel used that word to describe himself. But what word was he supposed to use? He had two cores.

And with one of those cores, Krel could feel every minute exhale that came from Douxie’s sleeping form.

That was right. He was wearing one of Douxie’s shirts. His normal clothes didn’t quite fit him anymore given his wings and his second core, and so he’d taken to wearing human clothes that had been tailored to fit him and his arms and his wings.

Douxie had enchanted his own clothes to fit Krel, with holes opening up for Krel whenever he wore them. Douxie had offered to enchant Krel’s normal clothes, but as much as Krel liked how Akiridion magic and technology were compatible he…

Krel couldn’t remember what excuse he’d used, but he’d really wanted to just keep wearing Douxie’s shirt even though it exposed both of his cores with how low the neckline was. It shouldn’t have mattered, not with how Krel was rather indestructible now, but every time he caught sight of his double-cored reflection he was reminded of just how much he hated himself.

Douxie shifted in his sleep, inadvertently nuzzling his face against Krel’s cores.

Krel tried very hard not to cry. Douxie needed to sleep. He deserved to sleep. He was sleeping peacefully. Krel couldn’t wake him.

But Krel felt so loved and he didn’t deserve to be. This couldn’t last. One day, Douxie would realize that the man he’d fallen in love with had been sacrificed and an abomination was all that was left. He tried to keep still as tears began to slip out of his eyes, but he began to shake nonetheless.

Douxie lifted his head away from Krel’s cores. Krel found himself missing the point of contact, and feeling horrible for missing it, and began to cry harder. Douxie shifted his body, propping himself up with one arm and using the other hand to brush away some of the tears on Krel’s face.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” His voice was so soft and gentle despite how exhausted he looked.

“I love you,” Krel said. Douxie’s eyes widenend.

Oh.

Right.

Krel hadn’t told Douxie that he loved him, not when Krel was still himself instead of an abomination. Douxie probably wouldn’t want Krel’s love now. And even if Douxie loved Krel before the seals had been broken, surely he wouldn’t now.

Krel looked away. “I understand if you don’t –“

Douxie turned Krel’s face back to him. “I love you too.”

Krel didn’t think he could have cried any harder. He proved himself wrong.

Douxie inhaled sharply but his voice was still so soft. “What did I do wrong? How can I fix this?”

Krel didn’t know how the situation could be fixed without killing his relatives. It would be proper to have one heir to House Ventis and one heir to House Akraohm sacrifice themselves to power the cannon, but Aja might want to sacrifice herself so she wouldn’t have to live with the guilt of killing her brother.

“You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“But I still made you cry. Harder, anyways.”

“It’s… it doesn’t matter.”

Douxie frowned. “It does. You being happy matters to me. So, please tell me why you’re crying, and what I can do to make you feel better.”

Krel swallowed down tears. “Your head was on my core. Cores. Touching them is very intimate –“

Douxie’s face grew grave and flushed. “Krel, I’m so sorry, I didn’t know that, er, I didn’t know where those parts of your body were and –“

Krel rolled his eyes. At least the shock made his tears slow their deluge. “Get your mind out of the gutter. Let’s just say that Akiridion and human reproduction are more similar than you’re thinking, at least in location.”

Douxie nodded. “Okay, so I didn’t cross that line, but I clearly crossed a line. Which one?”

“I don’t know if there’s a good comparison? It’d be like you holding my literal heart, I guess?” Douxie grimaced at the mental image. “But not exactly. It’s just, since you’re not immediate family or trying to save my life, you’d only be doing that if we were at a level of intimacy of being at the last stages of our engagement.”

Or maybe other Akiridions had that level of intimacy at sooner stages. Maybe it was an old-fashioned, stuffy royal way his parents had raised him and Aja. He knew at least one of his grandmothers believed that core-touching should have been reserved for marriage, but it was possible that she was simplifying it down for Aja and Krel.

“And I know our friends have made elopement jokes before, but…” Krel looked away, trying to will himself not to start crying harder again.

Even if Douxie loved Krel, surely Douxie wasn’t interested in marrying him.

“Would you want to?” Douxie asked. “This isn’t a proposal, but would you even be interested in marrying me?”

Gently, Krel pushed Douxie away so that Krel could sit up, half-facing his boyfriend. There was an urge to wrap his wings around Douxie, but no. That shouldn’t happen.

“Only if I was sure you understand the consequences.”

“Consequences? Like what? Having to get a second pair of arms grafted onto me?”

Krel tucked his wings closer to himself. Douxie sighed.

“I’m sorry, I’m tired and wasn’t thinking. But, what do you mean by consequences?”

“Why do you love me? And no, ‘you’re you’ isn’t an answer, because I’m not. Not anymore.”

“You are still you even with the wings and everything, but I’m too tired to have this argument again. If you won’t let me use that reason, then how about I just do?”

Unconditional love felt wrong. “That’s circular reasoning.”

“Well, do I need a reason to love you?”

Yes, because if Douxie knew his reason for loving Krel then he would be able to pinpoint when that reason wasn’t itself anymore.

No, because if Douxie knew the reason why he loved Krel, then Douxie would leave and Krel was too selfish to want to be exiled alone.

Krel started sobbing again.

Douxie drew Krel into his arms, gently stroking Krel’s back between his wings.

The next time Krel woke up, his head was directly on top of Douxie’s heart.

#krexie #krel tarron #hisirdoux casperan #tales of arcadia #3below #toawizards #rise of the titans #gaylen!krel #my writing

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secretlywritingstories · 2 years

Text

I’ve been coming on here for 6 years now. I never quite imagined that I’d have a social media like tumblr. I’d started to take peeks on specific tumblrs without having a profile back in 2015 but it took a while before I got up the courage to make my own account. I cannot thank my previous self enough for committing to this hellsite (affectionate).

I’ve always been slow to getting social medias compared to my peers around me. I was the last person in my class to make a Facebook. I only got a Twitter and an Instagram because I had YouTubers I wanted to keep up with. I only made a LinkedIn when it was required for a course at my university. I don’t consistently use any of those compared to my space here. Facebook I exclusively use for messaging and a couple of groups. Instagram and Twitter I almost only look at the notifications for the accounts I specifically want to keep up with. LinkedIn haunts me and I purposely ignore it, now I don’t have to use it for job hunting.

I never scroll on their dashes. I did more back when they were in chronological order but since that was abolished, I lost any tiny interest that had remained in them. But more than that, all of those social media are connected to my “real life” person. They’ve got my name on them, my face on the profiles, people from my life knows about them. It’s not like this here. I’ve got my first name listed and I do share photos at times, of me or my animals, but it had always felt like a little secretive space all the same.

It’s also a place perfectly tailored to me. I love the organisation of the tags, how I can curate my dash and my blog, and how much fandom reigns supreme here. It’s also very queer and so am I on here. I didn’t really know that back when I made my account on here six years ago. The thought had entered my brain but it was partly through the community here and talking to so many queer people that I finally settled into it. All the gay posts, people casually talking about this same-sex partners, celebrating lgbtq+ people in fiction and real life, and just the overwhelming reassurance whenever I spoke to someone tentatively about myself in anon asks.

I carved out a little space for myself in one fandom in particular, and I started to create, fics and text posts. I sent asks and I reblogged incredible content and praised the creators. After a couple of years, I started to get mutuals, which I remember made me so excited and almost feeling unworthy. It took a while to remember that it’s just a person on the other side of the screen, even if they’re an incredible writer or editor and make awesome stuff I adore.

The friends I found on here are dear to my heart in a way I cannot even describe. I’ve had the chance to meet one online friend and if chance permits it again, I’ve got so many cool people from all over the world that I’d love to meet as well. We’re just all nerds who like some of the same stuff but the friendships that become formed feel strong and sturdy.

In my time on here, my main tumblr has been filled with every fandom that grabs my attention and a lot hold on tightly. It’s a big mix and match in the best of way. I’m tapped into several fandoms now and it’s so cool. My dash is perfectly made for my tastes and I get to have cool people all over it. My other social media are overrun with distant friends talking about themselves. My dash here is full with funny posts, great content for fandoms I’m in and a sprinkle of personal information about wonderful mutuals and bloggers.

Some days it feels like tumblr is living on its last leg and it could buckle and disappear any moment. I sincerely hope that it doesn’t. It’s my little corner of the internet and I hope I’ll get to be here for years to come. These six years have certainly been happy ones and this place has enriched my life more than I could imagine even if it’s just a silly website.

#tumblr #tumblr anniversary #my tumblr dabbles #spilled thoughts #fandoms #lgbtq+#friendship

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moonlights-inkwell · 3 years

Text

Demand an Encore

Jaskier x Reader

Word Count: 6,958

Summary: anon said: hello! i see your requests are open...! could i maybe get a Jaskier x reader where the reader very shyly explains (maybe after an embarrassing moment?) that they are into spanking? and Jaskier indulges them and it is fluffy/smutty? if not, that's okay!! i figured I'd ask. thank you! 💜

A/N: Anon. I literally owe you my life, because Dom! Jaskier now literally lives rent free in my head. A fic from Jaskier's perspective? It shocked me too. Oops. Also. Clapping joke title on a spanking fic? I think I’m way funnier than I am

Warnings: Smut. Spanking. Oral (female receiving). Clothed sex? Sorta. Discussions of Sadomasochism. Canon complicit violence. A very bad take on Jaskier's perspective.

Title from Wild Blue Yonder

“Oh wank!”

The expletive draws his eyes from his lute and upwards, to you.

You’re busy, always busy, swinging that blade about and clashing it noisily into Geralt's. Parry, swipe, dodge, sword fighting is as boring a sport as Jaskier can even imagine, only marginally better than fencing because at least there’s some danger to sword fighting. Paint drying is a more interesting thing to watch, lectures less painful to listen to. Jaskier hates it. Sparring holds no interest to Jaskier, beyond when he tries to describe how sword fighting looks for a new song, but there are no new songs. The monsters have seemingly realised that Geralt is about, and have kept themselves to themselves, and so the well of songs about danger and adventure has dried up- like a brook during a heatwave. There’s no song about battles to be won, and if he plays Toss A Coin once more then he’s quite sure that Geralt will shove his lute up his arse sideways. All he wants is to work on a new melody and the clanging is quite possibly the worst thing he can imagine. The clanging, clanking, crashing of steel on steel is enough to drive him to distraction. All he needs is a new song, but no. He simply must be tormented by the sound of metal hitting metal. Needs must apparently, at least when it comes to sparring.

He’s sure Geralt is doing this to spite him specifically. Revenge for years upon years of songs and mindless chatter and taunting, wrapped up with the knowledge that the bard would never complain about your training- that your safety is paramount to him, even if it is noisy as all hell and infuriatingly distracting.

Cornflower blue eyes scan up and take you in, on hands and knees and holding your sword at such an angle to block Geralt’s swipe; face crumpled with effort and concentration while the Witcher above is as stoic looking as ever, bringing his blade down closer and closer until you slide to the ground and roll away from the sword. The buckles of your over-bust drags against the ground and knocks loose two of the buttons of your blouse, revealing an expanse of skin below the clavicle and to the dip in skin between breasts.

He wonders, not for the first time, how you manage to fight in a corset. When he was a lad, a little longer ago now than he’s quite happy to acknowledge, how a girl at a ball had collapsed because her corset was laced too tight and even after fetching a healer, the girl walked awkwardly until he left for Oxenfurt, probably long afterwards too. Yet, you can fight in one, swing that blade around with a relative ease that Jaskier can’t even manage if his trousers are tailored too high in the crotch. It’s strange. Watching you duck and twist, bend and thrust that blade around all while being held in place by tightly laced bones, it’s impressive- like watching someone dance. You aren’t a master swords-man but you’re skilled and it’s nice to watch. The exhilarated grin across your face, panting with heaving chest: it’s beauty. Pure, unadulterated beauty, even with a smear of dirt across your cheek, sweat beading about your forehead and a nick on your arm that’s letting out a small but steady stream of blood trickling down from your upper arm.

“Better.” Geralt says firmly, Jaskier watches as your face breaks into a grin and you just glow. A relaxed, genuine smile that makes you look younger than you are. You've mocked him before for how he just soaks up any validation, but even the slightest praise has your skin all but shining, cheeks flushed and mouth upturned. He understands entirely. Praise, acclaim, acknowledgement, it’s addictive; more so than any ale, any drug. Praise leaves you desperate for more, shaking and craving a next hit, almost insecurely hoping against hope that any second will bring that much needed praise. Bard's are like faeries, they require attention to survive while thriving on the energy people give, And Jaskier has been desperate for attention long before he became a bard.

Praise from the Witcher is a seldom given gift- one that Jaskier doesn’t think he’s ever been given- but he praises you. Training is important, and Geralt seems to have realised that he’ll catch more flies with honey than vinegar, so sparring is when he speaks most, even then it’s minimal though; but he compliments. Your form, your grip, the strength of blows. Praise from the Witcher is a seldom given thing.

Jaskier isn’t jealous.

He isn’t.

Jealousy implies that there’s something to be envied, like a possession that he wants. You aren’t a possession, he knows that, and even if you were, you wouldn’t be Geralt’s. His fingers fall from the frets of the lute, sending a sour note that makes him cringe out through the clearing.

“Gods, Dandy- if that’s a sign of what your new song sounds like then I don’t think I want to hear it!” You call over to him, head tilted as the sword twirls between your fingers. “I thought you were supposed to be a good bard.”

“You wound me, Love. Wound me.”

“No good bard would write Toss A Coin.” Geralt says, but there’s humour in his voice- well, humour enough for it to be noticeable against Geralt’s signature style of stoicism. Must be a good sort of day, for Geralt to be joking about and complimentary. These sorts of things don’t happen every day.

“Leave him be, Bully!” You swat at Geralt's side, grinning at Jaskier. “Don't you worry, Dear Heart, I love you- even with this brute insulting you.” It’s as if you don’t even remember that you started the insults, but that smile is enough to keep him quiet. That must be a sign of love, that Jaskier could be quiet for you: he’s never been silent for anyone before, even when he had himself half-convinced that he was in love with every person he's spent more than a night with, he’s never been able to keep quiet for more than a few minutes or so, he’s felt an overwhelming need to fill the silence. It’s pleasant to just bask in atmosphere that comes from being about you.

The swat at Geralt had not gone unnoticed, even if it took a moment or so for him to strike you. Geralt, facing Jaskier, lifted a hand to thump you on the back, too absorbed by the simple pleasure of retaliation to have perceived two very simple things with those enhanced Witcher senses: that the laces of your boots have come undone, and that you had bent down to tie it.

Time slows sickeningly, as Jaskier realises what’s about to happen only a second before the SLAP comes through the air at a volume none of you anticipated. Not to the lower back, a spot that while painful is little more than inconvenient when hit, but instead to your arse- angled upwards as you bent to fiddle with the ribbons of your shoes. The white-haired man had wanted something vaguely friendly but still running with undercurrents of the same energy that comes from sparring, but instead he had brought one enormous hand down onto your arse with some force. Unexpected, and completely out of nowhere as it is, it somehow is not the most surprising part.

The moan is.

A loud, broken moan- somewhere between pain and pleasure- which Jaskier knows all too well. That sound haunts his dreams. Jaskier would know it blind, dumb and senseless. Your moan, normally reserved for during the nights when his fingers slide inside of you, when his tongue breeches you. It’s weak, beautiful, and oh so very unexpected. Its a noise more beautiful than music, more beautiful than the sound of children’s laughter- always his , finally heard by another. Geralt looks horrified, cat-like eyes wide and filled with something akin to fear, but nothing like the unadulterated horror written across your face; sun-coloured skin turning red with embarrassment, lips parted wide but slowly contorting into a grimace, eyes wide but watering.

Jaskier forces himself up and towards you, while Geralt steps back, saying your name softly and apologetically,

“I am so sorry-"

“Little Miss-"

“I'm going to the stream to wash!” You say loudly, side-stepping around Jaskier to make a beeline into the thicket of trees, where a stream was hidden. Without any thought, Jaskier groans and looks up at the Witcher, eyes narrowed into accusatory slits.

“So much for those Witcher senses of yours.” It’s a ridiculous thing to be annoyed about. Geralt does not have any feelings for you beyond the platonic, and Jaskier knows that, knows full well that Geralt wouldn’t do something like that to you, least of all in front of your lover and a man far too willing to write humiliating songs about Geralt.

“It was an accident.” All stoicism has returned to Geralt’s voice, despite the still apologetic look written across his features. “She’s going to hate me. She sounded so pained.”

That almost made the Bard splutter with laughter. Moans like that are many things but not pained, at least not in a way that isn’t seen as pleasurable. Somehow, he manages to keep the laughter down and instead claps a hand to the taller man's shoulder.

“I doubt she hates you. Missy is a resilient little thing.” He tries to sound comforting, but some humour seeps through, making Geralt turn and squint at him.

“This isnt funny, Bard.”

“I’m well aware.” Jaskier nods. “I'm going to check on her though. To make sure she hasn’t drowned herself.”

“Don’t joke.”

“I’m not.” He trills as he walks along the step-worn path to the trees.

The stream is a pathetic little thing really, barely a foot in width and surrounded on all sides by the thickest section of trees which almost blocked out all light. It was easy to believe it was around dusk, but it couldn’t be much later than midday, the shade made it appear so much later than it was. And there was you, hunched over by the reeds and moss, scooping up water and splashing it in your face and onto the gash still trickling blood to try to clean it. Even in spite of the shadows, your flushed cheeks are still clear to him and he stops to take you in.

He’s had many lovers. Too many to list really, but not one of them holds a candle to you. Every girl before you was perfectly primped and polished, in fine clothes with perfect hair and made up faces, and they were beautiful but artificially so. Made that way by clothes and corsets and cosmetics. You though, you’re something else. Beautiful with the sun in your eyes, unkempt hair and rumpled clothes. Indescribably perfect cast half in fire-light, with bags beneath your eyes and blood across your cheek. Sonnet worthy while drunk and stumbling, singing out of tune to his ever songs. Godly in the dark, mouth open and back arching towards him as you stumble headfirst into climax. He loves you. He loves you, and it’s the first time he thinks he has ever really loved anyone: more than infatuation, more than lust, but actual love. Love that makes his head muddled and heart sore. He doesn’t deserve you. Wants you, needs you, but will never deserve you. Reckless, wild and brilliant you, willing to leave a life behind to fight monsters. A fool. Beautiful little fool, selfless and-

“I can feel you staring at me.”

“Hard not to stare at a goddess. Careful, I hear some gods will drown pretty things like you out of jealousy.”

“Fool.” You say softly, but there’s a chuckle in your voice so he comes closer to you, stepping behind you to twist your hair away from your throat to press a kiss to the crook of your neck.

“Your fool.” He breathes out shallowly, letting his chin rest on your shoulder while his arms wind about your waist. “Are you alright, Dear Heart?”

“Embarrassed, I suppose. My pride will recover though, Dandy.” The lightness of your words combined with your stiff posture makes sure Jaskier knows you’re lying.

“Little Miss-"

“Geralt must be embarrassed as well. I should have apologised to him before-"

“You moaned.” He cuts you off, making you shut up, stiffening even more. “And you may try to deny it, but I know that noise. I might just be the only person who knows that noise.”

“Jaskier.” It sounds like a warning, but he doesn’t care.

“If it’s because it was Geralt, I understand.” He says softly, feelings coming out unbidden. “I understand, of course, and I love you but I understand if I’m in the way.”

“I liked it. Be... being hit. Not Geralt.” You whisper.

It truly is a day of surprises. Jaskier can feel the grin slip onto his face and his hands move from your stomach to your hips to begin tickling.

“Is that so?” He asks softly, revelling in your choked-out laughter and how you lean back against him. “My Little Miss wants to be spanked. Well, darling, you should have told me earlier.”

“I didn’t know it was a thing!” You argue between laughs. Jaskier so often forgets that you were a virgin before he got his hands on you, so of course you hadn’t known. His tickling doesn’t stop as he pulls you backward, rolling you onto the ground and climbing on top of you to continue his assault.

“Would you like a lesson in masochism, Dear Heart?” He teases, head tilting to the side as he looks down at you.

“Maso-what?”

“The pleasures of pain.” He explains, and watches how your face turns pink once more. “Oh, she does!”

“Stop taunting me!” You argue, thrashing beneath him but not with any intensity.

“Taunting? Never. I’m just trying to work out if I need to rent two rooms when we next go into town.” He too easily grabs at your arm when you reach up to swat at Jaskier. “For your lessons, I mean.”

“You... weren't joking?” You ask lightly and he shakes his head.

“I never joke about teaching My Muse about what brings her pleasure.” He says lightly, climbing off of you to sit by your side. “If you want me to.”

“You Wouldn’t mind?” You ask incredulously, drawing out a chuckle from the bard.

“Darling-heart, don’t be a fool, of course I wouldn’t. You know how I like pleasing you, and having you know what pleases you pleases me. Besides, it’s hardly my first dalliance into sadomasochism; there was a countess I used to know who couldn’t achieve orgasm unless tied up, with wax melted on her and at least three people watching her-"

“Jaskier.” You say softly, and he stops.

“Sorry. What I mean is, liking someone slapping your perfect bottom isn’t something to be embarrassed by, darling. Alright?”

“Alright. Thank you, Jaskier.”

“No need to thank me, Dear Heart.”

It takes weeks for Jaskier's plan to come to fruition. Weeks of traveling and camping in the woods until the three of you are able to find a town in need of a Witcher and his services. It’s a simple job, just a few drowners, but the pay is good and there is a very decent inn more than willing to accommodate all of you, and with two rooms none the less- which is far easier to negotiate while the two of you are off to do what you do. The inn-keep is a pleasant, portly man in his middle forties who seems to appreciate Jaskier's way with words, and is more than willing to forgo payment on the rooms in return for a show- and who is Jaskier to disagree with a deal such as that?

His friendly demeanour is welcome too, means the Bard actually has someone to talk to while he awaits your return- but that plan dies a death when the job takes significantly longer than he expects. Normally, it only takes a few hours for something like this, but the sun is set and his songs just coming to an end when you finally return.

The crowds, cider-drunk and rowdy had sang along to every song they knew, and sang over these they didn't- but that was fine. Drinking songs were always nice to hear, but their song dies when the door to the inn-cum-tavern opens and you pad in, followed closely by Geralt. Both drenched from tip to toe and scowling, hair stringy and clothes dark with saturation. That explains a fair bit and even with how upset you look, Jaskier grins, grip on the lute loosening and stage persona rolling off of him. Wet and angry as the two of you are, the sight of you is enough to make the crowd let out a loud, drunken cheer before beginning an enthusiastic if out of tune rendition of Toss a Coin. For once, the Bard is uninterested in joining in and instead opens his arms wide for you, it takes less than a minute for you to run to him and wind your arms around his middle while the people mill around Geralt to interrogate him about monsters and the like. Jaskier sighs and presses a kiss to your forehead.

“You had me worried.”

“Almost drowned. But I’m fine.” You say apologetically against his jerkin. “Tired though.”

“I’ve booked our room. And I think my performance is over.” He says soothing, fingers carding through your wet hair. “Come on, Darling-heart.” He offers a hand, though it takes you a moment or so to reluctantly pull back from him you take it and follow him up to your rented room.

The room is tiny, little more than a box room with just a bed and small table but it’s clean and that is more than enough for you. Before even a minute can pass, you release Jaskier's hand to flop down onto the bed, moaning when you sink down into the mattress.

“Comfortable?” He asks playfully and you hum in agreement.

“I got you wet.” You reply after a minute and Jaskier chuckles.

“I don’t mind, now wait here. I’ve something to sort out for you.” The door clicks as he slips out of the room and you’re alone in the room, just you and the tingling sensation running through your body and making your brain feel as if a mist has descended over it, yet you don’t even realise it until the door opens once more and you lift your head up to look at the noise. It’s a girl, looking about fourteen or so, carrying two large buckets to the archway across from the bed which you had not even noticed, and in your drunken haze you consider why she would be taking buckets to another room through yours. Jaskier follows after her, buckets hanging from each hand and you notice how steam is billowing from the buckets until he disappears beyond the doorway. Confusion comforts your mouth into a frown, so instead of giving it much thought you let yourself sink back into the mattress, deciding it not worthy of a second thought. Water crashing against water echoes from the other room as your eyelids grow heavy and slip shut. Someone had told you once that the sound of water is enough to drive even an insomniac to sleep, you believe them in this moment, the sound of water is so relaxing to your dazed mind that you don’t question why you can hear it at all, so you simply shut your eyes and listen. You have no idea how long you lay there, listening and breathing, it could be seconds or millennia.

“Are you awake, Dear Heart?”

“hmm?”

“Come on, I ordered you a bath, you need it.” A bath. You smile and he grins at you. “Now, darling. Come along. You'll soak the sheets through.”

“I'll soak you through.” You retort tiredly, rolling off of the bed and toeing off your boots before following him into the bath's room. He watches as you walk through and is upon you within seconds, unlacing your corset and unlacing your chemise before you can move your fingers to do it for yourself. “Julian, I know you find me attractive but stripping me?”

“I don’t want you dying of cold.” He chides playfully, kissing the exposed akin of your shoulder as he pulls off the blouse. “Forgive me for loving you.”

“I love you.” You say softly and untie your trousers, pulling them and your underwear off in a single movement. He smiles at the sight and presses a hand to your lower back once you step out of the sopping fabric.

“I know, muse. Now in.” He says encouraging you into the bath, turning to fiddle with a few vials of scented oils. “Rose, Lavender or honeysuckle?”

“Lavender. It smells like you.” You say softly and sink into the water, letting out a loud moan when the heat overtakes you. He turns back to you with a smile and pours a little of the oil into the water.

“Oh, you like the smell of me?” He teases and moves around towards you.

“Of course, I do.”

He smiles at that and sinks down to his knees behind the tub at your back and picks up a rag, soaking it in the water and then moving it up to rub at your shoulders and the knobbles of your spine. The sweet floral smell is carried on the steam coming from the water, sweet and familiar and made all the better by the contented noises that come from you. He likes you like this, all pliant and sleepy and willing to let him help without complaint, it makes him feel useful in ways he never can on hunts. You shoulder so much, act so brave and mature and it’s so nice to see you just let him take control and look after you. He hums a little tune as he washes your back and feels your back move as you chuckle.

“Tickles.” You say, giggly and more awake than before. “What song is that?”

“It’s something my mother used to sing.” He says gently, scooping up some water with his hands and pouring it over your head before working out some of the tangles in your hair. “I don’t think it has a name.”

“It’s pretty.” You hum, head tilting into his hands like a kitten. “Why aren’t you in here with me?”

“I got the bath to warm you up, Silly Little Miss. I’m warm.” He says with a sigh and pressing a kiss to the nape of your neck.

“I want to touch you." You whine, twisting around to face him.

“There's time for that later, Dear Heart. “ He shakes his head affectionately and kisses the tip of your nose. “I have plans for you tonight.”

“Oh?” You ask, leaning up on your knees and allowing your breasts to lean against the lip of the tub. It’s a trick, trying to lure him in, and he knows it, but gods above it’s tempting. Far too much willpower is exerted to not reach out and take them into his hands. A siren, sent to toy with his heart and mind. He sighs and leans in to kiss you gently.

“You remember a few weeks ago? When Geralt slap-"

“Yes!” You interrupt quickly and he rolls his eyes, reaching up to smooth your hair down.

“And you said you liked the feeling?”

“I remember, Jaskier.”

He smiles and rubs his thumb across your cupid’s bow.

“Well. We have the room to ourselves, so I thought that we could experiment with that."

You blink at him owlishly before squinting at him. It would almost be enough to worry him, but he knows you too well to think you’re angry- you’re confused, but still very relaxed.

“Experiment.”

“Yes.”

“With you... hitting me.”

“With you letting me dominate you, spank you, and make you feel good.” He clarifies. It sounds foolish, and far too perverse when laid out so candidly to someone not well versed with this. You nod sagely.

“...And if I ask you to stop them you will.”

“Of course I will.” He says seriously and rests his hands on your shoulders, leaning in so you are eye to eye. “This is for your enjoyment, if you say stop, this stops. Just like always.” You smile and close the gap between his lips and your own. It’s soft and lazy, with no indication of proceeding any further than just chastely kissing, his hands still on your shoulders and your hands creeping up into his hair. It’s perfect, always is, and not for the first time, Jaskier considers that he could spend the rest of forever just kissing you and never be bored. Still, all too soon he pulls away, fetching a towel while you heave yourself out of the tub waiting for the bard and the towel. Even though you reach for it, Jaskier ignores your outstretched arms and instead swaddles you in it himself, drying you.

“I can do it myself!”

“You can, but you won't.” He says firmly, rubbing your skin. Beneath the soft fabric, he can feel you start to struggle which makes him hum and swat at your arse. It’s not enough to hurt, especially through the towel, but it serves as a good warning for who is in charge tonight. Dominance is nothing new for him, but he isn’t dominant with you. You were a virgin when he met you, all sex had to be approached with kid-gloved hands, even now that you are confident with it Jaskier has never felt any need to try and guide you towards that sort of thing. Submission, he had assumed, would be a difficult thing for you; you spend so much time fighting and fending for yourself during fights, asking you to hand over control never seemed to be a good idea. Control keeps you safe but you trust him. Trust him enough to give him control. It’s enough to rush to his head, that level of trust. Of course, it’s flattering when anyone allows him control, but it means so much more when someone who loves him, someone who is so dangerous would allow themselves to be vulnerable. He loves you, has since the second he clapped eyes on you, but this is more than love now, this is adoration. “Now, be a good girl and don’t argue.” Seldom does Jaskier have a need to be stern, so you doing as he says is to be expected. You go limp, eyes wide as he towels you dry. “There’s my good Little Miss.” He says once he finishes, folding the cloth while you stand stock still, pupils blown wide.

“Good.” You repeat back to him, starry-eyed and blushing, so he presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth before nodding.

“Well, you are my Good Little Miss, aren’t you?” He asks gently, watching the enthusiastic nod he gets in response with a smile. “I know.” He says with an air of finality, turning away from you and heading back into the bedchambers to sit on the bed. It takes a few seconds of silent sitting for you to finally walk to the doorway. You’re naked as the day you were born, wet hair hanging in snakelike tendrils around your face, skin glowing gold from the warm light of the fire reflecting off of the still damp flesh. You’re beautiful. Too beautiful, comfortable in your skin and his looking at you, pale criss-crossing of scars running across the planes of your body like gold holding formerly broken ceramics together. How Jaskier has ever gotten a chance to lay his hands on you is beyond him, why a bard such as himself can even look at you, never mind touch or kiss you. A goddess, battle-hardened and wise, intoxicating and intense but oh so soft and kind.

“You’re staring.” You laugh, leaning against the door frame and smiling at him.

“Yes. Yes I am.” Jaskier says simply and beckons you closer, which you do with a slight swing of your hips that he is entirely sure isn’t purposeful. You settle beside him, looking at him with a look somewhere between reverence and fear- like he's simultaneously the most beautiful and awful thing you’ve ever seen. He hates how much he likes it, the power it feels like he possesses in this moment. You look so small and defenceless, and he is too aware of how large he is by comparison. Usually, Jaskier feels slight- especially in comparison to Geralt and his hulking mass of muscle and manliness- but he’s suddenly far more aware of how big his hands are compared to your own, how he almost dwarfs you in height. You aren’t dainty, and he knows how much damage you can do with little to no effort, but you look so now.

You lean in to him slowly and tilt your head, taking him in before smiling with a raised eyebrow. Well? Your face seems to scream. I'm waiting. It’s all the encouragement he needs to put his hand between your shoulder blades and push your torso over his lap unceremoniously. Every jutting bone, every knobble of spine, outline of rib exposed when you let out a noise of mild confusion, but rest there with your stomach over his thighs. His fingertips, calloused from lute strings but still soft from the warm water, trail down your back slowly; his skin is colder than yours, leaving goose pimples in his wake as he moves towards the rounded flesh of your arse.

Pink and pert, the flesh juts out from the dip at the base of your spine, like a peach. Jaskier loves it. Loves all arses really. There is something so strangely enticing about them, likely the fact they’re so often covered that seeing them seems taboo in a way that seeing tits isn’t. Every inch of your skin that he gets to see is a luxury not afforded to others, and while his hands finally reach the plump skin, he had been moving towards he kisses your back, gripping one cheek firmly while rubbing soft circles into the other. A moan, airy and musical comes from you spurring Jaskier in his ministrations: shifting the cheek to the side, revealing a hole he had never paid much mind to at all, only to release his hold and watch as it bounces back into place. The jiggle is hypnotic, he thinks to himself wordlessly as he repeats the act on the opposite cheek, earning another moan from you in response.

“Jask.” You whine out and he hums in confirmation, feeling you push yourself back against his hand. “Don't tease.” He chuckles. Teasing is hardly what he'd call it. No, this is isn’t teasing, teasing is something gentler than this. This is preparation. He can hardly just start spanking you, especially when you've never done it before, but the whining makes him smirk. “Jask, if you don’t hurry, I’ll go to bed.” You insist and try to push yourself off of him, so he presses down on the middle of your back and brings his hand down on your arse harshly.

The sharp sound of skin-on-skin rings through the air, followed by a gasp. A tingle ran across his palm, and he snicks at the sensation.

“I thought you were my good girl, not a brat, Missy.” He says, voice low and on the verge of a growl. “I told you, I am in control tonight. Not you.”

Brat. You shiver at that, going still, and he smirks, grabbing the cheek he had just struck before tugging at it. He releases it before sliding his hand up your thigh.

“I. I can be good.” You whisper meekly. That isn’t enough though and he swats at the cheek once more, lighter this time.

“You will be good.” He corrects you, leaning in close to your ear and catching sight of your red cheeks and misty eyes. “I know you will be, won’t you Darling?” You nod quickly and he smirks. “That's my Princess.”

At that, your posture loosens and you relax against him. Praise. That’s good to know. Lazily, he rubs a circle against the curve of skin before striking it once more.

“I'm going to hit you ten times, and I want you to count them out loud for me. Can you do that for me?” He asks gently and you nod instantly. “I need you to use your words, Darling.”

“I. I can do that.” You say, tilting your head to look at him with a sweet smile. Jaskier smiles back at you, then brings his hand back down with a hard slap.

“One!” You say loudly, jolting forward and dragging your stomach across his crotch. He’s been so invested in planning and preparing that he hasn’t even noticed the hardness developing between his legs until it’s rubbed against. The moans from the bath had been enough to make him half hard, but seeing you like this, lips parted and the skin of your bottom turning an inviting shade of pink, it’s enough to have him fully hard.

“Two!” You shout out after his hand lands hard against your rear before two more swats come in quick succession.

“Three! Four!” The numbers are more moans than words, loud and needy. In the back of his mind, Jaskier wonders if the drunks downstairs are still singing and making noise, shouting and swearing, or if they too can hear the moans of pleasure. It’s sick, but he wants them to hear. Wants them to hear the pretty song that you’re moaning out, to look at you in the morning as you shift uncomfortably in your seat and know how you loved every second of it, see him smirk and know exactly who drew every noise from you.

He’s a bard. He knows how to make noises, but these might just be the prettiest ones yet. A hand rubs at the pinking skin and then, quickly as it comes it's gone and brought down, this time to the space where arse meets thigh.

“Five!”

He could listen to you moan all day. Sex, or at least sex while travelling, is normally a quiet affair. Quiet murmurs of affirmation, whispered begs and pleas, it’s not enough. Jaskier loves sex, loves the intimacy that comes from being as close to someone as humanly possible, but more so than the enjoyment of sex, Jaskier loves the theatrics of sex. Sex is like performing. Doing all possible to please an enthusiastic audience, listening to the sounds of enjoyment as it builds and crescendos, fingers moving faster, doing his best to not make a fool of himself.

“Six!”

Slap!

“Seven!”

He can’t help himself from hoping that this won't be a one-time occurrence. For a few stolen moments you can hand over control to him and give the both of you what you need.

“Eight!” Your stomach rubs against his cock once more and he chokes back a moan. You'll be the death of him. Ruin him entirely. It isn’t enough that he loves you, isn’t enough that you are the most beautiful person he could dream up, no you have to do things like this. Unintentionally ideal. Perfection given human form.

“Nine!”

His hand comes down one final time and you scream out a broken, “Ten!”, and Jaskier heaves out a sigh, rubbing the red skin as gently as he can to soothe you when you begin to tremble. Calloused fingertips slide softly across the abused flesh.

“Oh Darling. My good girl. My good, brave little miss.” He coos sweetly, gently guiding you up to sit on his lap, one hand still running the skin while the other threads itself in the hair at the nape of your neck. “You did so well.” Gently, he presses his forehead against your own, staring into tear filled eyes. “Oh, Dear Heart, did you not like it?” Worry washes over him suddenly. He should have reminded you that you could say no once more, that he wouldn’t be disappointed.

“Kiss me.” You breathe back against his lips and he sighs softly, hand shifting to your jaw to tug you into a chaste kiss. You tremble against his lap, but kiss back far more forcefully than he had kissed you. Gentle but seeking, tongue pushing between his lips to make its way into his mouth. He smirks slightly, but doesn’t open his mouth, feeling you rock against his lap- sweet nectar between your legs dripping through the fabric of his trousers while shaking fingers toy with the lacing of his doublet.

“Darling-"

“You're wearing far too much.” You whine pulling back to stare at him. “Take it off.”

“Take what off?”

“Everything.” One word has never held so much weight. He could look at you like this for always, so soft and desperate and wanting- it makes his heart beat faster and his cock jumps against the heat of your core. He wants to strip himself, rid himself of the offensive articles and just let you take from him all that he has, but he holds your jaw gently instead, using the warm skin as a means to ground himself once more.

“Ask nicely.”

“Jaskier.” You say with a slight scowl, but he narrows his eyes and tilts his head, trying not to laugh at your intent look. “Please. Please strip.”

“I think you can ask nicer than that, Dear Heart.”

“Julian, please take off your clothes. Please.” You ask softly and trail your hands along the chemise beneath his half-unlaced jerkin. “Please, Dandy? I want to touch you- can I?”

The pet name brings a soft smile to his face, hands moving to your hips to shift you onto the bed before undoing the rest of his jacket and shucking it off, to toss it to the side. Ducking down, he peppers a few feverish kisses to your thighs, toying with the ties of his chemise while you tug it over his head. Needy and half frenzied is unlike you, but he can’t say that it isn’t perfection. Shy, unsure sex has been too common, the occasional rushed shag when you two can spare a few seconds less frequent, but this magically manic need is sweet. Jaskier is a performer; performers preen under the watchful eye of attentive audience, need the knowledge of a job well done, which he normally gets from you in the form of moans and frantic rutting. This enthusiasm is perfection, especially while his face is so close to your cunt that he can smell the arousal dripping from it.

Nudity can wait, The Bard smirks, grips your thighs in a vice-like grip and widens the distance between them so he can get his mouth on your sex, tongue gathering slick and relishing that sweet, musky taste. Sweeter than any fruit, more addictive than any wine. Jaskier’s lips find your clit, that bud of nerves that might as well contain every breathless moan that you can fit in your body, and sucks, tongue flicking across it with the moans and curses that such an act wrings from you. Nose buried in the curls that cover your mount, cornflower eyes look up to take you in, writhing in ecstasy, breasts quivering with every stuttered breath. He knew that he had missed something while spanking you’d but it falls into place now. Your face.

Every emotion flit across it, as clear to read as sheet music to him. You have an expressive face at the best of times, but it only seems heightened by sex. He knows many men prefer not to face their lovers and, hell, in his more adventurous days had preferred it himself, but seeing how you feel written across your features is part of the joy of sex. It had taken a while to convince you to stop silencing yourself during intimacy, that those moans are his and hard earned, but those expressions mean even more. Miniscule twitches of the brows and lips that let him know that you enjoy what he is doing, he loves them. Loves you. Those noises are meaningless without that face, pink and contorted with pleasure. That face. He could stare at it all day.

He doesn’t miss Lettenhove, not for a minute, but he does miss paintings. Portraits, moments trapped in time, forever perfect. He wants a painting of moments like this; nothing pornographic, just your face, with not a care for anything but pleasure. To see him through those nights when hunting takes too long and he's long asleep by the time you return. A little painting to have with him always.

“Jaskier-" You whimper, fingers curled into his hair and tugging. “Please. Please.”

He hums softly and slaps your thigh, revelling in the sweet little gasp that comes from you before a gush of fluid hits his lips. The Bard pulls back and blinks in shock. You’re shaking, twisting in the blankets as he just breathes you in. Squirted. You just squirted on him. He was half convinced that such a thing was just A rumour but... you did it.

Blinking rapidly, Jaskier stares up at you awestruck and starry-eyed, trying desperately not to spill into his trousers.

Oh yes. This is going to be a regular occurrence.

#jaskier x reader #jaskier imagine #jaskier x you #dom jaskier #witcher imagine #jaskier smut

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spideeysense · 4 years

Text

It started with a roll. A Royal!Bucky Barnes x Reader fic. (Part 3).

A/N: Hey all! Here is part three, I was having internet troubles this morning and was unable to post but here is part 3. I am not sure how I feel about this chapter, I usually write long stories. So once again feedback is appreciated! This will be a 5 or 6 part series.

Please let me know if your name showed up on the taglist, and/or if you would like to be added to it!

Warnings: None, some sadness, mentions of poison.

Part 2

You awoke the next morning, a little bit after dawn. Your eyes were itchy with sleep, but you pulled yourself out of bed anyways. You splashed your face with some water from the basin on the dry sink, and turned toward your wardrobe. You quickly pulled a whole semi-ok outfit together, complete with a drab petticoat your neighbor had gifted you a while ago, and pulled on a cloak. Swiftly you packed your things. Outside the bakery you waited. The world around you had started to awaken. The merchant across the street was opening, and multiple stalls were starting to be filled with what was to be sold today. Today, the streets were to be lively and filled with activities. Women getting their last minute adjustments at the tailors, and children enjoying their day off from school. Soon the streets would be filled with music and conversation.

You made sure the door to your bakery was locked, and quietly waited for Peter outside. You leaned against the wall, eyes cast to ground until a pair of shoes entered your sight. You raised you head and smiled, “Peter!”

Peter smiled at you and took your arm, and you gladly took it, still, albeit awkwardly, holding the box in your hands.

“Excited for today?” Peter asked as he cocked his head to the side to look at you. You beamed up at him with the upmost happiness. Peter saw why the King had taken such an interest to you. “Yes!” You almost squealed.

“How long has Astoria been here? Where is she from?” You asked, trying to sound nonchalant about it.

Peter looked at you quizzically. “Hmm a couple weeks? I’d say. She’s from a neighboring kingdom, her father and Buck’s father had this planned since they were infants.”

You hummed at his response and stared at your shoes as you mulled over the information in your mind.

Soon, the pair of you arrived at the Palace, however instead of entering through the main entrance, you entered through the West Gate, which was closer to the kitchens. Peter opened the door and held it open for you. Inside you found a pair of girls bustling about the kitchen.

Peter cleared his throat to get their attention. The two girls turned around quickly and bowed their heads.

“Bella and Marie” Peter introduced them to you. “They will be with you to help today,” He explained as he removed his cloak and hung it on his arm. You gave the two girls a small wave and they smiled at you. You took out your utensils and laid them out on the counter. Quickly, you scribbled down your recipe on two pieces of scrap paper and handed it to the girls. You explained how to correctly knead the dough, and make sure that they were in perfect shape. As you were looking for rosemary through the many cupboards. You pushed away many small bottles of spice, some you have never seen before, and some had clearly not been used in a long time. Something caught your eye. A bottle labeled belladonna. Strange. You thought. What was this doing here? But before you could examine it further, Bella pulled your attention away.

“Looking for the rosemary? Here.” Bella tossed you the bottle and you grabbed it. You kept your finding to yourself and rearranged the spices, to make it look like no one had found it.

Soon, the kitchen was bustling with activity. People were coming in out, carrying several stacks of plates, or rolling a tray car filled with crystal champagne flutes.

“How many people are coming tonight?” You asked as you pushed a tray of dough into the large clay oven.

“400? 500? I think.” Marie said. She was up to her elbows in dough and flour. Bella had been kneading dough into shapes for what felt like hours, and could feel her hands numbing.

You choked on your own spit. “That’s quite a lot of people,” You murmured.

“It’s not too bad, besides, it fluctuates. Beforehand the two royal families eat dinner together, it’s a sort of tradition you know to congratulate the couple. I heard Astoria’s brother is superbly handsome.” Bella explained.

“The best part is the food. You see that’s the only dinner that happens, it’s very private. However there is a separate room at the ball that will be filled with all sorts of little snacks, like these rolls we’re making right now. It’s my favorite place to be stationed.” Marie giggled at herself and her and Bella started bantering back and forth.

Around you chefs worked at the ovens, maids bustled about with cream colored table cloths, and handymen went back and forth through the kitchen carrying chairs with plush red cushions. However not once had Bucky come into, either to say hi or see how the preparations were going. You scolded yourself. It was foolish to think that a King would come down to specifically see you. Let alone think about you, on h

Soon, Bella and Marie had finished their duties with you and you had let them go, and they both left as quickly as they could, obviously, they had not enjoyed making bread all day. With dainty hands you placed all the rolls in a large crate, and packed them away with cloth. You gave them to a servant who worked in the kitchen. Peter appeared at the entrance of the kitchen and beckoned you to come towards him.

“All done?” He asked and you nodded. “Alright, you’re good to go. I’ll have a carriage come for you at around 8:00 o’clock,” Peter explained and clapped a hand on your shoulder. “Maybe we’ll run into each other tonight, you never know at a masquerade.” Peter winked at you.

You gathered your things and left the palace. You took extra time when you passed by the garden admiring the flowers. A gardener passed by you carrying a large bouquet of hyacinths and you stared at them in awe. As you continued on your way out you heard someone call your name.

“Y/N!” It was Bucky and he gave you a small wave.

You waved back and continued on your way. Ignoring the eyes of the servants.. Maybe he was thinking of you after all.

Back at your bakery, you only had a few hours until 8 o’clock. Your employees had worked all day and you made a mental note to increase their pay for that day.

You closed your bakery early and told your employees to go home and enjoy the festivities.

You quickly locked up the front door and made sure everything was put away before heading upstairs to get ready. Eagerly you pulled out the box that held your dress and mask. You carefully slid into the dress, careful not to tear the lace or the tulle. It took several tries to get it nice and secure around your body. You stared at yourself in your mirror. You twirled a little bit and smiled at how the hem of the dress lifted off the ground and spiral around you.

Your fingers traced the intricate designs on the bodice, and the small crystals that were encrusted on the off the shoulder neckline.

The clock on the wall chimed and you realized how late it was. The carriage would be here in an hour, you had to hustle. You did your hair as intricately as you could, and accompanied your outfit with some simple jewelry you had. You slipped on the mask that Bucky had gifted you and once again admired your reflection. No one would be able to tell you weren’t a noble, thanks to Bucky.

Carefully you walked down the stairs, careful not to trip on the gown. You exited through the back door, and made sure you locked it. Outside you found a simple black carriage, with two horses in the front.

“Lady Y/N?” The coachman asked.

You blushed at the title, thankful that the mask covered your blush. You reminded yourself to scold whoever gave you that title. Most likely Barnes.

The coachman got down from his seat and help you into the carriage. Once inside you chuckled at how you were sitting. Your dress created almost a large cushion around you.

The carriage moved forward with a jolt and off you were.

Soon you arrived at the Palace. A large crowd was pushing their way inside. Once again the coachman helped you out of the carriage. Awkwardly, you stood at the edge of the entrance. Unsure of what to do. This was your first royal ball, ever, and you were doing it alone.

Taking a big breath of air, you followed the crowd inside. The beauty of the palace amazed you again. However at night, it seemed more beautiful. The chandeliers glistened like stars, and the paintings seemed to be awake.

You followed the herd of people to what you could only assume was the ballroom. Inside, people were dressed in large intricate masks which matched their costumes. You did see the odd person that was wearing a more simple one or none at all but where was the fun in that. People were laughing, conversing, and in the center dancing. You took your time to explore, studying people, wondering which one was Peter, or Steve, or even Bucky.

You did find the hall where the food was being served, and people were streaming in and out. You took this chance to snack a little and grabbed a champagne flute filled with golden bubbly liquid. You recognized the flute as you had seen the same type in the kitchen earlier.

After snacking you headed back into the main hall. The music was loud and more and more people were crowding towards the dance floor.

A tap on your shoulder caught your attention and you turned around. A man was standing behind you. He was wearing a dark coat, and his mask was as intricate and detailed as the others. You could see his eyes through the mask's sockets, and recognized them immediately. It was Bucky. Behind your mask, you beamed. He offered his gloved hand and you took it happily.

“May I have this dance?” You heard him say. Cautiously you looked around you, worried Astoria would somehow catch you even though she wouldn’t be able to tell it was you. After assessing the fact there was no threat you nodded your head.

Swiftly and gently, Bucky pulled you onto the dance floor. You tried to match his confidence as you had very little in your own dancing skills. He placed one hand on his waist and the other held your hand.

The music started soft and slow. The couples around you danced and twirled. As the song started to pick up, his grip on your waist tightened.

You followed as best as you could, careful not to step on his toes. And when he twirled you, you were cautious of the other couples around you.

Bucky was over the moon right now. Dancing with you was simply a dream come true. He had recognized you by your dress and mask as soon as you walked in. His heart fluttered at the sight, and he felt his cheeks heat up. He let you explore around a bit, he did not want to bombarde you right away. It had taken so much self control to not pick you up and dance till his feet were numb.

You found yourself staring into his eyes as the dancing continued, completely unaware of the world around.

He leaned down ever so slightly to whisper in your ear. “You look stunning tonight.” The words sent a chill down your spine, and you were thankful he could not see the red that kissed your cheeks right now.

The dance slowed to an end and Bucky and you were the last couple to pull apart. He dragged you off the dance floor, and out of the ball room.

Bucky let out a stifled breath and laughed. “I was worried I was gonna trip you for that whole song. I swear, it’s like I have two left feet.” He joked and you laughed.

“Well I believed it was very graceful” You said, and when he offered his arm, you took it.

“Do you want to take a walk out in the garden?” Bucky asked nervously.

You smiled, aware that he couldn’t see it, and nodded. “Let me make a quick trip to the powder room.” You murmured and pulled away from him.

“Oh it’s right down there,” He mentioned and you followed his gaze.

“I’ll be right back.”

You opened the door quietly and found yourself surrounded by the overpowering smell of roses. You stood in front of a mirror and adjusted your dress.

“Have you seen him?” Your ears picked up on a conversation that was happening away from you.

“No,” the other voice said. “He’s going to be your husband Asty, and you’re telling me you haven’t seen him all night?” The voice scolded. Your heart rate picked up and you were quick to pretend that you were very focused on your appearance. Astoria, and who maybe was her sister, or mother, were having a very heated discussion.

“I told you, it’s a masquerade, the whole point is that it’s a night filled with secrecy.” Astoria hissed. “So this night is an excuse for him to see other women?” The voice continued. A jab of guilt stabbed at your heart.

“Don’t worry, everything will fall into place once we’re married.” Astoria retorted back.

“It better be, if you don’t get him subdued, then this whole marriage was pointless.”

“Mother!” Astoria hissed as she motioned towards the figure that was standing in front of the mirror. Before either of them could question who you were, you left the room. You were very grateful for the mask that covered your face.

You found Bucky waiting patiently outside and quickly ushered him away from the room. “Let’s go shall we?” You asked.

Bucky and you admired the garden as you walked through it. Small paper lanterns were lining the trail, and it illuminated everything in a soft glow. You let Bucky pull you along, enjoying the comforting silence that sat between you.

He led you through a small hedge maze, and in the center you found an overgrown marble structure. Bucky led you inside and beckoned you to take a seat. He pulled off his mask, as did you, and placed it on the ground.

“Is this the part where you murder me?” You quipped, relishing in the fact that you could breathe more clearly now.

“No,” He laughed heartily at your joke. “This is the part where I tell you that you look beautiful.” He said cheesily with a smirk.

“You sap!” You punched his chest lightly, and he placed a hand on his heart acting if he was hurt which made you laugh harder.

For a second you were caught staring at each other, and in realisation you looked away.

You would be lying if you said you didn’t want to kiss him right then and there. You stared at the night sky, the gears in your head turning. Bucky placed a soft chest on your arm. “What are you thinking about doll?” He asked. Your stomach felt like a thousand butterflies were trying to push their way out.

“You and I.” You mumbled.

“Why is that?” He asked.

You shrugged and shook your head. “No reason.” You lied.

Bucky inched closer. “You can tell me.” He hummed as his hand found your jaw.

“I think I’m in love with you.” You said softly, your eyes casting to the ground. You realised you mistake and instantly regretted it. Bucky’s hand immediately dropped from your jaw. His reaction just made you believe in Astoria’s words further.

“I’m sorry, my god that was uncalled for.” You quickly stood up, the alcohol rushing to your head and you leaned against a pillar for support. You held your skirt in both hands and rushed out of the gazebo.

“No, it’s fine.” Bucky whispered, he was quick to follow after you.

“It’s fine?” You turned around and almost hissed. “It’s fine that you're getting engaged and yet you make nightly visits to have a conversation with me. It’s fine that you get me a pretty dress, and spend a night dancing and laughing with me. Really Bucky?”

“Whoa where did this come from?” He held up both his hands in front of him.

You rolled your eyes, careful to not let out all your emotions.

“You’re getting married Bucky. After that, whatever we’re doing simply, cannot continue. I am not something you can simply use for the time being.”

“Doll, come’on seriously.” He sighed, his hands finding his coat pockets.

“Did you really believe that we would be allowed to continue this way after your wedding.”

Bucky had no clue where this was coming from. Really he didn’t. As soon as you confessed, he was so ready to say he felt the same, and was ready to risk it all for you. But he was simply too slow. Maybe he was really that dumb. “Forget about it Buck,” You mumbled, turning around and walking away. Away from the gazebo. Away from him.

taglist:

@unlistedpond @thefallenbibliophilequote @sebastianstansqueen

#bucky barnes x reader #Bucky Barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes x y/n #marvel imagine #marvel imagines #x reader #royalau

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shipskicksandgiggles · 3 years

Note

Happy FFWF! Do you read your fanfic and if so which is your favorite to read?

I absolutely read my own work it’s,,,, I didn’t start writing for other people. when I started writing, I was writing bcuz I wanted more content tailored to my specific taste, and if other people like that, then I’m happy

that being said I can’t really choose just 1 favorite so top 5:

1. Shades of Red: (parkner) I wrote this for valentines day last year. it’s probably one of my more popular fics? which I’m really proud of because I put a lot of thought into it and ended up doing some research on flowers and color theory that I still remember

2. Stars behind your Eyes: (IRONHUSBANDS) I always wanted to write the one battle of new york scene with Rhodey in it and this. this was just.... sorry it makes me so happy

3. Heartbeat: (a little bit of parkner, but also mostly family stuff, with tony as Harley’s adoptive dad, Nat being Nat, and even Bucky being a good uncle) I wrote this when I wasn’t okay. quarantine was really rough on me right around mid-July and I channeled it into this. I don’t remember it being super popular, but it’s close my heart

4. Nightmare Fuel: (parkner) this was the last fic from an event I did in 2019, and I was experimenting with the idea of telling stories in flashbacks, and this one was so much fun to write

5. Moving Van Mistakes: (parkner, but like breaking up) oh yeah so I got a lot of shit for this one, but it was so cathartic to write. I’m actually working on a sequel to this (yes, a year and a half later dont ask why) but it’s. it hurt. and it’s not a happy fic at all, but like,,,,,,, it felt like yelling into a void and it was good

honorable mentions: (coffee) shop talk: another one I got shit for by screaming into my void. 100/10 would yell again; Lucky Break: my first multichapter. holds good memories; and Knives Edge: just bcuz it was new and interesting and I like knives

like I said I write for myself more than anyone, so there are very few of my fics that I don’t like

#ffwf #dylan laken tag #listen when I say you're your own audience this is what I mean #and I stand by that #ellis writes

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missjanjie · 4 years

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Like a Million Dollar Bill | Jessence

Title: Like a Million Dollar Bill Summary: Jaida has recently come to terms with being a widow after her husband suddenly passed under totally normal and not at all suspicious circumstances. As the sole heir, she also suddenly finds herself richer than she could ever imagine. But she doesn't stay a lonely widow for long, as one night at her friend's lounge brings a woman into her life that might even be more valuable than her fortune. Word Count: ~3.2k Relationship(s): Jessence (Jan Sport/Jaida Essence Hall) Rating: E Notes: this is my submission for the black girl magic fic challenge so a note for that is the title is from the song 'million dollar bill' by whitney houston. also big thanks to @janssports for beta-ing

Read on AO3

“That finalizes everything, Mrs. Whitham, and again, I am so sorry for your loss.” The man from the probate court shook Jaida’s hand before she got up to leave.

Jaida did her best to maintain the miserable expression she had on through the funeral. She thought about the disdain she felt when the man used her married name, how desperate she was to regain her sense of individual identity. She was free, only if she played her cards right. But this was a long time coming, to say the least. “Thank you so much, sir.” She dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief before leaving the room.

Sitting on a bench in the hallway was her younger sister, Heidi. She got up and took her hand. “You good?” she asked gently, coming off as nothing more than the concerned sibling of a grieving widow. But the look in her eyes reminded Jaida that she knew. She knew it all. Someone had to, lest the burden of keeping a secret became overwhelming and came out to the wrong person.

And Jaida continued to play her role, standing upright and swallowing thickly, because she was just struggling to stay strong. “I will be,” she said with a tremor in her voice.

“Who did he appoint as the…” Heidi furrowed her brows as she wracked her brain. “What’s the word again? For the person that’s gonna transfer his funds to you?”

“Executor,” she answered. “And it’s his sister, lord help me.” She sighed. Her deceased husband’s family had never been fond of her - due both to the twenty-year gap that existed in their relationship and outright racism. The only upside to that was no one outside the family took their complaints very seriously, but that didn’t mean she was at all happy to have to deal with her. “Anyway, I’m gonna go to Shea’s lounge tonight. She’s got a new singer, should be cute. You wanna come?”

Her sister shook her head. “Naw, I gotta get my ass up early to finish packing. Gonna take some time to move into that fancy-ass mansion.” She chuckled. It might not have been the best time to be visibly excited, but she was so thrilled to get herself and her dogs out of her one bedroom, seven hundred square-foot apartment.

“Suit yourself.” Jaida shrugged as she pulled her coat on. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

------

The lounge Shea owned was chic, calm, a place Jaida would probably still frequent if it wasn’t her best friend’s pride and joy. It was the type of place where she could dress up to go to, without feeling like she had to be on her best, most reserved behavior. And after all of the day’s events, she just wanted to relax, entering the club and making a beeline to her friend.

“Hey, I’m so glad you made it!” Shea beamed, hugging her tightly. “Just wait until you see our new act. She’s fresh out of university with a fancy musical theatre degree, and the bitch can sing. It’s fucking angelic, Jaida.” She didn’t mention Jaida’s husband’s death at that moment. While she didn’t know exactly what happened, she knew how miserable Jaida had been, how there hadn’t been any love between them in god knows how long. She knew how poorly he treated her and that his death probably wasn’t the worst thing in the world.

Jaida chuckled, walking with her to the bar while Shea ordered them a couple of drinks. “Damn, you really hyped her up, I’m gonna just take your word on it,” she assured, taking a sip of her drink when the bartender placed it beside her.

“Just come on, her set’s about to start,” Shea threw some money down on the counter and pulled Jaida along to one of the velvet couches so they could sit and watch.

Jan walked onto the stage, the spotlight framing her perfectly. She wore a strapless wine-red dress that just hit the ground and was tailored perfectly to her body, accentuating her curves while giving her an air of elegance one would expect from an upscale lounge singer. And her voice was as enchanting as Shea had talked it up to be and then some. There was no doubt that every patron of that lounge had their attention fixed solely on the stage.

“So, what do you think?” Shea asked once the first song had ended.

Jaida grinned, her gaze never breaking away from the singer. “I think I’m in love,” she retorted.

Her friend looked at her and let out a soft laugh. “What, are you following in your husband’s–may he rest in peace–footsteps? She’s twenty-two.”

“Bitch, I’m forty, not eighty. This is a new chapter in my life, who’s to say I can’t include a hot twenty-something in it?” Jaida scoffed.

Shea finished off her drink. “You know what? I respect that. I’ll introduce you two once she’s done,” she decided.

And true to her word, Shea took Jaida backstage once Jan’s set was over. “Wonderful job, darling,” she said as she walked in. “Jan, I’d like you to meet my dear friend, Jaida. We met when we were both in college, so, back when we were about your age.”

Jan looked at Jaida, tilting her head. “Well, how’s that possible when you’re clearly not a day over twenty-five?”

Shea rolled her eyes. “Oh lord, I’ll leave you guys to it,” she said and left the two of them alone.

Jaida chuckled. “Don’t you worry about her,” she said to Jan. “But anyway, you really were fantastic out there. That fancy college degree I keep hearing about did you well.”

Jan smiled, absentmindedly twirling her hair around her finger. “Why thank you. With all the debt it plunged me into, it better.”

The older woman clicked her tongue sympathetically. “Shit, how far in the hole are you?”

“About thirty grand.”

Jaida glanced around, then sat down beside Jan. “Listen, don’t go telling nobody, but I got you. I’m a couple days away from coming into a lot of money, like, well into seven figures.” She didn’t give a specific number because she wasn’t entirely sure how it all worked, but she could hire someone to explain it to her.

Jan’s eyes went wide and her jaw hung open. “A-Are you sure? I mean, thank you, that’s so kind. But if you don’t mind me asking… How’d you come into that kind of money?”

“Inheritance,” she replied, biting back a smirk.

“That’s just… incredible. If there’s anything I can do to thank you…”

Jaida waved her hand, brushing the suggestion off. “You don’t have to do anything. But I wouldn’t say no if you wanted to let me buy you a drink when you’re done for the night.”

Jan fluttered her eyelashes and shifted closer to her. “Of course, I was hoping this might be a little more than a random philanthropic act.”

This brought a feeling of relief to Jaida, the last thing she wanted was for Jan to feel obligated to express romantic or sexual interest in her. “I’ll see you on the other side, then,” she hummed as she got up and returned to the lounge, ready to watch Jan on stage for the rest of her shift. The only time her gaze broke was to text her driver to be on his way.

And once it ended, the two of them reconvened at the bar, with Jaida ordering them both a drink. “So, have you always been a singer?” she asked casually.

“Oh yeah, since I was four.” Jan chuckled. “At the end of the day there was just no other choice for me.”

“I like a girl that knows what she wants out of life,” Jaida mused, taking the glass once it was set down in front of her and sipping from it.

Jan smiled, lips just barely pursed around the rim of the glass. She sipped slowly, then set it down as she looked at her. “Then tell me,” she prompted, “what do you want?” She leaned ever so slightly closer, a sultry air lacing around her words.

Jaida smirked, pointedly looking her over. “Something about five-foot-four, brown eyes, voice of an angel…” she listed, voice trailing off as she spoke. “You know, something along those lines.”

Jan set her glass down once it was empty. “You better be taking that something back to your place then,” she replied simply.

“I intend on it,” she hummed. “You ever been in a Rolls Royce?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen one.”

Jaida grinned, leaving cash down for the bartender before getting up. “Come, Ralph is waiting out back for us.”

Jan tilted her head as she followed. “Ralph?”

“My driver. I inherited the staff as well, but they all liked me better anyway.” She chuckled as they went outside and stepped into the car, exchanging casual greetings with the driver.

While Jan did try to keep her attention on Jaida, she was distracted by how luxurious and pristine the car was, and when they pulled up to Jaida’s house, her eyes went wide. “This is where you live?” she gasped softly.

“Not too shabby, huh?” Jaida hummed as they got out of the car. “A lot of the staff lives here, no point in having a bunch of empty rooms. And my sister’s moving in tomorrow,” she explained, leading her inside.

Jan was trying her best to listen, but taking in everything around her meant her focus was being pulled in six different directions. It reminded her of her first time in Manhattan — everything was big and shiny, but she didn’t think she could touch anything yet. The first thing her hand felt was the railing of the spiral staircase she was following Jaida up.

“And this is my room. It could do with an update, I ain’t gonna lie. But she’s comfy and spacious, can’t really complain.” Jaida hummed. She had been the one that had pushed for such a big bed, and although she was quick to adjust to sleeping in it alone, she was more than happy to bring in new company. She turned to see that Jan had taken off her shoes and thrown herself onto the bed, sprawled out on her back and giggling softly to herself. “Feel free to make yourself at home.”

“Sorry, it just looked so inviting. I couldn’t help myself,” Jan replied, sitting back up.

Jaida smiled as she toed out of her heels. “I’m not mad, you look good in my bed.” She hummed, letting her eyes rake over Jan’s body.

“I’d look even better up close,” she cooed, beckoning Jaida closer with a curl of her finger.

“You know, I think you’re right.” Jaida chuckled as she crawled onto the bed, then on top of Jan, straddling her waist as she kissed along her jawline.

Jan tilted her head back, baring her neck as Jaida’s lips traveled down it. A breathy gasp slipped out when Jaida began littering her neck with hickies until she finally moved up to kiss her properly.

Jaida kissed her hard, deeply. It was the first kiss in years that made her feel so alive, that made her keep going back for more because the taste of her lips became instantly addictive. Her fingers tangled in Jan’s hair, pulling her head closer while her free hand unzipped the younger woman’s dress.

Jan wiggled out of her dress, not wanting to have to break away from Jaida to take it off properly. Her hand wandered across Jaida’s back until she felt the metal of the zipper under her thumb, then unzipped the dress in a swift movement.

When they did have to come up for air, Jaida took another look at the girl beneath her. “You always wear lingerie like this under your work clothes?” she teased, her finger tracing along the outline of Jan’s lacy, strapless bra.

“It helps me stay in the zone. You know, the soft, sultry lounge singer.” She hummed, walking her fingers up Jaida’s arm. “And it seems to have worked,” she added, her fingers stopping on Jaida’s bra strap and playfully tugging it down.

“Guess you got me there,” Jaida murmured, pressing another kiss to her lips as she unhooked her bra and tossed it aside. Her hands glided forward, cupping Jan’s breasts with her thumbs massaging her nipples at a teasingly slow pace, smirking when it elicited a soft moan. She trailed her lips back down Jan’s neck, to her collarbone, then between her breasts.

Jan’s back arched up, body already yearning for more touch, and whimpering softly when she felt Jaida’s tongue swirling around her nipple. Her thighs instinctively parted as soon as Jaida pulled her panties down, but she was past the point of feeling any sort of embarrassment - she knew what she wanted and was ready for it.

And who was Jaida to do anything but give right in? After finally undressing herself, she nudged Jan’s thighs apart with her hand, then gently traced her finger along her folds. She eased one finger in first, curling and pumping it slowly, her eyes trained on Jan’s face, watching her get more and more worked up. “That’s it, good girl,” she murmured as she worked in a second finger and built up her pace. She looked down with amusement when she saw how Jan was thrusting her hips forward, as if she was trying to fuck herself on her fingers. “And so eager,” she teased.

“Just love the way you make me feel, Mommy,” Jan purred in a way that sent chills up Jaida’s spine.

Jaida smirked and leaned over to kiss her. “Cute,” she murmured before moving down between Jan’s legs and, before Jan could offer any response, she replaced her fingers with her tongue, thrusting it and swirling it around.

“F-Fuck!” Jan gasped out sharply, hips pushing up again. Her hands gripped the comforter beneath her, knuckles turning white from the tightness of her hold.

And Jaida was only encouraged by that. Her tongue moved steadily and swiftly while her thumb rubbed at her clit. Her free hand kept her balanced by gripping onto Jan’s thigh, which helped keep Jan in place as well.

Jan was trembling and moaning, her body was red hot and she could feel her pulse racing. Her eyes squeezed shut and her hips bucked up despite Jaida’s grip. “A-Ah, fuck!” she nearly yelled as her orgasm hit.

It was only after Jaida was certain Jan was fully spent that she came up for air. “That good, baby?” she cooed, running her hands up and down Jan’s body.

Jan felt like her soul had left her body, feeling completely numb and utterly spent in the best possible way. “So good,” she breathed out. Once she regained the ability to remember how to move, she sat up. “Let me take care of you,” she whispered, and was already pushing Jaida onto the bed before she could get an answer.

Not that Jaida would’ve ever dreamed of objecting. She laid back with her legs propped apart to give her room, and tried her best to watch her, but the second she felt Jan’s tongue against her pussy and easing its way in, her eyes fluttered shut and her body shuddered in pleasure. She supposed it didn’t surprise her that Jan was talented any way she used her mouth, but god, that girl was an overachiever.

And Jan was nothing if not eager to please. She didn’t let up for a second, not until Jaida came as hard as she had, and even after that, she lingered for a moment, just in case. Then she moved back up Jaida’s body and kissed her sweetly.

Jaida hummed contently and wrapped her arms around Jan. “That was so good, baby,” she praised gently, pressing a kiss to the top of her head before shifting so they could be under the covers. “Think you’re about ready to call it a night?”

Jan nodded, letting out a soft yawn. “God, I’m gonna sleep so well tonight,” she murmured as she nestled herself against Jaida.

“I sure hope so,” she retorted lightly as her eyes closed.

------

The housekeeper let Heidi in that morning, and Heidi didn’t think much of it. She knew her sister had never been a morning person, and they never did set a time for her to come over. Considering she didn’t need to bring any furniture, the transition to moving in was easily handled by herself, with some help from the security guard - she could only go up and down that long staircase so many times with arms full of luggage.

Once she was more or less settled in, Heidi went back downstairs to go into the kitchen with the intent of raiding Jaida’s fridge for some breakfast. What she didn’t expect to see was a white girl in one of her sister’s silk robes leaning against the counter and drinking coffee. “Now who in the fresh hell are you?”

Jan was unphased by this. “I’m Jan,” she answered. “You must be Heidi, Jaida’s told me so much about you.”

“Well she ain’t tell me shit about you, so my question remains unanswered,” she said bluntly.

“Right, that makes sense, since we just met last night,” Jan mused. “Anyway, I know you’re just moving in and stuff, I’ll go let Jaida know you’re here.” She finished her coffee and put the empty mug in the sink before going back upstairs, happy to see that Jaida was a little more awake than when she’d left. “Your sister’s here, by the way,” she said as she sat cross-legged on the bed.

Jaida sat upright. “This early? Damn. Well, I better make myself decent and go talk to her,” she said, getting out of bed and throwing on a t-shirt and sweatpants. “I won’t be long, boo.” She kissed her cheek before she made her way downstairs.

“You got some ‘splaining to do,” Heidi said as soon as Jaida came into her line of vision. “Now, who was that pretty little thing wanderin’ around here in next to nothing?”

“Jan’s the new singer at Shea’s lounge. Listen, I know it was fast but… I don’t know how to explain it, there’s something special about her. We had this connection that I just know is more than intimate.”

Heidi stared at her blankly. “Do you hear yourself right now? It hasn’t even been a month since the funeral and you’ve got a co-ed up in your room.”

Jaida sighed. “Look, I’m not planning on flaunting her out and about yet, but I’m not gonna deny myself just because the dirt on his grave is still fresh.” She chewed her lip. “This is the first time I’ve been happy in years, Heidi. I need you to let me have this.”

Her sister was quiet for a moment. “You really think this girl’s gonna make you that happy?”

“I do.”

“Then I won’t stop you.” Heidi gave in without any more resistance. “Just don’t go mixing any of that white powder into her drink, she seems real nice.”

Jaida rolled her eyes, then quickly glanced around to make sure they were alone. “Don’t you worry, arsenic milkshakes are off the menu.”

#jessence #rpdr fanfiction #rpdr rpf

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artificialqueens · 4 years

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Like a Million Dollar Bill (Jaida x Jan) - Joley

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note: this is my submission for the black girl magic fic challenge so a note for that is the title is from the song ‘million dollar bill’ by whitney houston

“That finalizes everything, Mrs. Whitham, and again, I am so sorry for your loss.” The man from the probate court shook Jaida’s hand before she got up to leave.

And Jaida continued to play her role, standing upright and swallowing thickly, because she was just struggling to stay strong. “I will be,” she said with a tremor in her voice.

“Who did he appoint as the…” Heidi furrowed her brows as she wracked her brain. “What’s the word again? For the person that’s gonna transfer his funds to you?”

“Suit yourself.” Jaida shrugged as she pulled her coat on. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

——