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viviansvault3 · 17 days ago

Text

woah

Surrender

You bite off more than you can chew

AKA you meet John Price at a bar and goad him into fucking you stupid

18+ MINORS DNI

This is basically porn without plot...except with plot hastily shoved in.

I just wanted to get railed by John Price 🤷‍♀️

I'm also going back to my roots - the first CoD fic I ever read was reader meeting John in a bar 🥺 it only feels right that my first full length smutty fic is the same

It's a long boi too - 5.7k

The air was thick with the press of bodies, heavy with the smell of sweat and sound of boisterous conversation. You weren’t drunk; far from it, but just tipsy enough for your inhibitions to be left at the door, rationality checked in like an unwanted coat. You weren’t even quite sure what you were celebrating any more – were you celebrating? – just that Jess had all but demand you come out and get drunk with her, and a combination of stress and frustration from your own life and worry for what she’d get up to without your presence had caused you to agree. Now, a couple of cocktails in, you were pleasantly buzzed enough that the presence of so many strangers around you brought excitement rather than apprehension. Jess seemed to agree, as she scanned the groups with an appraising eye, seemingly searching for something you were unaware of. Whatever it was, she didn’t seem to find it – instead turning to you with eyes even less focused than your own, grabbing your hands and dragging you to the bar with the loud declaration that she needs another round. It’s far from packed inside, but you still have to jostle for a place at the bar, fighting not to be pushed aside by a group of barely legal lads who are clearly soon to be cut off, if they haven’t been already. Your attention is only half on them as you try to talk Jess out of ordering shots, reminding her of the what happened last time she had tequila, enough so that you don’t notice the boys getting rowdy until one is shoved straight into you. You’re unsteady already, so the slight change in balance (and your damned heels) makes you stumble right into a solid body you hadn’t noticed was there before.

“Easy there, love.” a deep voice says, something about the tone making you feel hot all over, a fact not helped by the very large hand that’s splayed across your back. You look up, mouth already open to apologise, only to be rendered speechless.

Fuck me, he’s hot.

The bar is a regular haunt for them; far enough from base to be free of the fresh-faced privates with more testosterone than thoughts in their brains, sweet-talking pretty little things with tales of bravado that never left the tarmac; yet close enough that even the most impetuous of patrons know better than to bother the men in the corner with war in their eyes. It’s a good place to decompress, to shake off the weight of the latest deployment and attempt to settle back into something more domesticated, better suited to civilian life. Each new mission weighs heavier on John, the weight of every order he receives, every call he has to make dragging him further and further from something that can be tamed. This brief respite – the low light of a dingy bar, away from the prying eyes and rigidity of base, the buzz of alcohol in his system – is the only respite he allows himself, the closest he comes to allowing his iron-clad restraint to slip.

It’s busier than usual tonight – he thinks he saw some poster advertising some band earlier in the evening, and figures these must be the remnants of that crowd, already well on their way to intoxication. He thinks he should leave, head back to his office on base and fish out the bottle he keeps for best – and worst – days, and leave the younger men to their prowl; he can already see Kyle eyeing the prospects with the same calculating gaze he uses for missions, and he knows it won’t be long until Johnny spots some pretty thing at the bar and beelines for them with the excuse of buying another round. Simon had long since disappeared; though whether he’d decided he’d had enough or simply gone out for a smoke it was always hard to tell. But somehow, John found himself dragged to the crowded bar alongside Kyle with the promise of one last round, grumbling but unwilling to deny the younger man. The sergeant is in the middle of ordering when John feels someone stumble into him, and instinctively he reaches out to steady them, arm around their waist before he looks down, only to be met with a pair of eyes that immediately has him breathless.

Yeah, he can stay for another round.

You’re not sure to be grateful to Jess or curse her for knowing you so well, as she takes one look at the man whose arms you had – literally – fallen into, and seems to be determined to set you up. Either that, she’s trying to keep you occupied so she can hook up with his friend, who smoothly introduces himself as Kyle, and invites the two of you to join their table whilst you’re still stumbling over your words. You find yourself pressed into a booth between the man whose arms you’d fallen into (“John,” he’d introduced in that same deep voice, and you’d almost melted there and then), and a friend of theirs (“Sergeant John MacTavish, ma’am, call me Johnny.” he’d said – an attempt at flirtation that may have worked if you hadn’t already met the other John first). Both Johnny and Kyle were flirts big enough to rival Jess, and conversation was easy between your group as the two younger men attempted to one-up each other with increasingly wild tales of military antics; interrupted occasionally by John’s deep, gravelly voice in your ear, either calling them out or backing up their stories, though mostly he chose to remain silent, content to simply watch his mates flirt shamelessly.

Despite the attention of two very attractive and very interested men, you find yourself drawn to their companion, the one who isn’t fawning over you, but instead sits back and watches you, eyes dark as they catalogue every movement you make, trailing over the exposed parts of your skin when he thinks you’re not paying attention. At some point, your hand had come to rest on his burly thigh, far too high to be innocent, and despite his initial shock he hadn’t moved away.

You can tell he’s interested – knew from the first moment his eyes met yours at the bar, the way his pupils dilated and his gaze lingered on your skin – but something is holding him back, keeping him from indulging in what you both want, despite your obvious flirtations. You wonder if it’s part of military training, something drilled into them about keeping calm under pressure, that gave him his iron-clad will.

You wonder what it will take to break it.

You don’t know if Jess or Johnny who suggests it – your brief interactions with the rambunctious Scotsman had taught you that he was eerily similar to your best friend in his ability to seek out trouble – but somehow you’re coerced into the shots Jess had wanted earlier. You close your eyes as you tip the shot back, not noticing the way John’s eyes follow the curve of your neck when your head tips back, the bob of your throat as you swallow, his mind going to much different scenarios. You do notice his chuckle when you grimace at the taste of the alcohol, and you pout at him.

“Not going to join us?”

“I’ll stick to whisky, thank you.” he says, tipping his glass in acknowledgement.

“Probably a good idea. This stuff is foul, I’m not sure I’ll ever get the taste out of my mouth.”

“Here.” He holds the glass of amber liquid towards you. “This’ll help.”

You’re suddenly struck with an idea – you lean in, your eyes locked on his as your lip wraps around the glass, swallowing. A stray drop catches on your lip, and without breaking eye contact you flick your tongue out to catch it, enjoying the way John’s eyes follow the motion. You think you can hear someone wolf-whistle in the background, but you can’t find it in you to care, not with the way John is looking at you – like he could devour you whole.

It’s not long before you and John are the only ones left – Johnny having made an excuse about being tired, though it’s more likely he was sick of being the third (fifth) wheel; and Jess and Kyle having not-so-subtly disappeared to the ‘bathroom’ one after the other. Not that you can blame her – you would let John fuck you in the dirty bar bathroom, if he’d only ask. Unfortunately for you, he’s too much of a gentleman, refusing to allow you to walk the five minutes to your flat alone, even amongst your half-hearted protestations that you would be fine. You can’t find it in you to be truly upset, not when every part of you is humming with need, desperate to keep him in your presence.

The walk is mostly quiet – you’re not sure what’s going through his mind, but yours is occupied with with ways to get him inside your apartment, to convince him that you want this as much as he does. You barely even notice that you’ve arrived until you spot the familiar bright blue door.

“This it?”

“Yeah.” you bite your lip, suddenly unsure. Despite the obvious attraction, and your rather blatant flirtations, he’s given you no indication that he intends to take things any further. You’re not sure how to ask.

“I’ll walk you up.” his tone leaves no room for argument, and a part of you hopes it’s because he doesn’t plan to leave. Your mind swirls with with possibilities, both of dragging him into your bed, and of him leaving you at the door without a word, never to see you again.

You’re distracted as you pull out your keys, so much so that you forget about the dodgy step – the same hole that had been there since before you moved in, and had probably been there since the nineties – and immediately stumble, keys slipping from your grip. John is beside you in an instant, deftly plucking them from the air before you’ve even noticed you’ve dropped them, his hand on your waist to steady you.

“Careful, love.” he rumbles, dangerously close to your ear. He’s once again in your space, taking up all your senses. You want to keep him there as long as possible, and you’re fairly certain he wants that too, as he doesn’t hand you the keys, and he makes no move to pull away.

“Thank you, John.” you breathe, placing a hand on his thick bicep and squeezing lightly, and you can see the effect it has on him. His eyes darken, and his grip on your waist tightens just slightly.

“Don’t do that, love.”

“Why not?” you keep your voice low, unwilling to break whatever fragile bubble you’ve built around the two of you, the one where nothing else exists but you. The one where he’s so close to giving in, to giving you both what you want.

“I’m not what you want.”

“And how do you know that?” you murmur, letting your hand brush gently from his arm, across his broad shoulders, to rest on his chest, right over his heart. You can almost imagine you can feel it hammering under your touch. “Tell me you’re not interested and I’ll stop.”

“You don't know me, love. Trust me, you don’t want me.”

“You didn’t say you’re not interested.” You say, stepping closer to him, so close you swear you can see the conflict playing out behind his eyes. You lean up, lips ghosting against the shell of his ear. “You trying to scare me off? Or are you afraid you can’t handle me?”

His jaw twitches, clenched tight. Fingers clenching around around the keys, white-knuckled.

“Inside. Now.”

He doesn’t touch you as he follows you up the stairs to your apartment, but you can feel the weight of his stare on you, heavier than any hands you’ve had on your body before. Neither of you speaks – the tension is drawn so tight that you’re afraid the slightest sound will cause it to snap, and you’re not sure if you’re more frightened or excited by the prospect.

Your hands tremble as they try to fit the key into the lock, and suddenly his hand is covering yours, steadying it; but the electricity it sends through your skin nearly causes your knees to buckle. Almost as if he can read your thoughts, his other hand goes to your hip, his body a wall of muscle behind you, so close but not touching, almost as if to say fall if you have to, I’ll catch you.

You’re only too eager to take him up on the offer.

It’s only when the door clicks shut behind him that you turn to look at him. His broad frame almost dwarfs the door, but your entire world was drawn down to just his eyes; the bright blue is gone, replaced with a dark storm that under other circumstances would be terrifying, but here in the low light of your apartment it causes a thrill to go through you, heat pooling in your belly. You feel simultaneously powerful and fragile – a siren luring the sailor in, only to find you’ve been caught his net the whole time, your voice holding no more power over him than a ship has over the ocean.

It’s then that his control snaps; stepping forwards, he grips the back of your neck like he’s scruffing a stray cat, and drags you into an open-mouthed kiss. His other hand splays across your back, pressing you close with no way to escape his grip. Your hands clutch at his shoulders, unable to do anything but surrender. All of your senses are taken over by him – the warmth of his hands even through your clothes, the taste of whisky on this tongue, the scent of something masculine and faintly smoky overwhelming you until you couldn’t think of anything but him.

When he finally pulls away you’re breathless, staring up at him with glassy eyes, leaning into his hand like it’s the only thing keeping you upright. It might very well be; you feel so weightless you might float away, the warmth of his hands being the only things keeping you tethered. You let out a disappointed wine when he drops his hands and steps back from you, looking pleased with himself at the desperate noise. If you’d been any more lucid you might have noticed the faint growl in his voice, the only sign that he was just as affected as you were.

“Clothes off. Now.”

All your earlier bravado is gone; you can only scramble to obey with an eagerness unmatched by even the most well trained soldiers under his command. And he knows it too; there’s a knowing glint in his eyes as his lips curl in the hint of a smirk, arms folding across his chest as he watches you kick off your shoes, reaching for the zipper of your dress.

“Eager thing, aren’t you?” he murmurs, and you find yourself nodding reflexively, letting the dress fall to the ground, leaving you in nothing but your bra and panties. His hands find your waist as you unclasp your bra, his lips at the shell of your ear, voice low and sending shivers down your spine. “Just need someone to tell you what to do, is that it?” His lips just barely brush against your skin, trailing a path across your jaw, as one hand skims up your side to your chest, palm cupping your breast, and you tangle your hand in his hair in a desperate attempt to keep his lips on your skin. “Need someone to make you behave?” He pulls back to watch your face as he gives your breast a squeeze, tugging at your peaked nipple and sending a jolt straight to your core.

“Yes.” You breathe, and his mouth is on yours again, tongue sweeping into your mouth and swallowing your gasp. His hands are everywhere, kneading at the swell of your breasts and tracing the curve of your spine, slipping beneath your panties to grip at the curve of your ass, pressing your hips against forward against the unmistakable bulge in his pants. Your hands leave his hair move to tug your underwear off, but you’re quickly stopped by his hands gripping yours, bringing them to his lips.

“Allow me.” He murmurs, sinking to the ground. His hands are delicate as they grip the waistband of your panties, dragging them slowly down as his lips follow, brushing kisses against the soft flesh of your hip, thigh, your knee; getting further and further from where you want them. He may be on his knees before you, but you’re acutely aware that he is still in control; each kiss to your bare skin perfectly calculated to bring you closer to madness, ignoring his own almost painful arousal. His lips trail back up your legs, and you can feel yourself growing wetter as he gets closer and closer to where you need him most – only to ghost right over your pussy, his lips instead moving to your hips, your stomach, everywhere but where you want them. You whine, hands tugging at his hair, try to bring his mouth where you want it. Instead, he continues up your body, until his lips brush the underside of your breast, before wrapping around a peaked nipple and sucking. You all but collapse into his arms with the jolt of pleasure it sends through your body and he chuckles lowly, standing to place a brief kiss to your lips.

“Bedroom, sweetheart.”

“Second door-” you barely have time breathe out before you’re swept off your feet, clinging to his shoulders as he swiftly locates your bedroom. Barely a beat passes between him laying you on the bed and fitting his body over yours, lips capturing your own, and fitting one large thigh in between your legs. He grips your hips and guides them over the rough fabric, his own arousal pressing into your hip. You can tell already that it’s going to be impressive, and your hand reaches down to grip him through the fabric, desperate to feel him.

With a groan he pulls away from your lips, gripping your wrist and pulling it off him as he looks down at you with pupils blow so wide they’re nearly black. For a moment you think he plans to fuck you just like this; you laid out bare, and him still fully clothed, and that just won’t do. You need to feel his skin against yours, need to be able to touch and kiss and bite. You impatiently paw at his shirt, and he separates from your lips just long enough to remove it, giving a breathy chuckle at your impatience. He doesn’t give you any time to admire him, as he moves down the bed, nudging your legs apart with his shoulders and settling between them. You think you should be self-conscious, having him so close to your most intimate parts, but the hungry look in his eyes only has you getting more worked up.

“Look at you…” he breathes, and you’re not sure it’s meant for you to hear. You shift impatiently, desperate for some kind of touch, anything, needing him to do something. His eyes flicker up to yours, amused.

“Need something?” He says, placing a kiss to the inside of your thigh, so close but so far from where you want him.

“Please, John-” you whine, hips bucking. Slowly he kisses up your thigh until he’s at your folds, so close-

His nose brushes against your clit and you jolt, fingers curling into the sheets. He’s barely even touched you, yet you’re so wound up that the slightest touch sends electricity through you. And then his mouth is on you, tongue rolling over your clit, and you arch off the bed with an obscene moan. A broad hand is splayed out on your stomach, holding your hips still, as he other hand grips your hip with almost bruising force to keep you against his mouth. His tongue laves through your folds, dipping into your entrance just slightly before rolling over your clit, and back again, your hips rocking into his face with every stroke, frantically chasing your pleasure. It’s devastating how fast he has you reaching your peak, the warmth pooling in your belly as your hand cards through his hair, walls clenching around his tongue as he fucks it into you, your whole body on fire. And then he wraps his lips around your clit and you break, eyes rolling, screaming his name as body tries to curl in on itself, thighs clamping around his head in a way you’d think would be painful, if you’d been able to think at all. You feel your orgasm in your whole body, every inch of you drawing tight before you melt, boneless and heavy, yet still not sated.

He kisses up your body slowly, giving you time to come down from your high. His hips slot between yours as he draws you into a slow kiss, letting you taste yourself on him as he grinds his clothed bulge against you with the same languid pace as his kiss. You’ve just come, but you want more – want all of him. You need to feel him inside you.

“Want you-” you whine, hands moving for his belt, clumsily tugging at it with clumsy hands, still shaking from your orgasm.

“’m getting there, sweetheart.” he groans into your mouth, gripping both your hands in one of his to try and move them away. “Patience.”

“No.” you whine, hand slipping under the waistband of his pants, reaching down to cup his length through his underwear. His movements still immediately, head dropping to your neck as his hips buck into the warmth of your hand.

“Brat.” he nips at your jaw, before he pulls away from you and moves to stand. You open your mouth to complain but are quickly silenced by the sight of his hands at his belt, thick fingers undoing the buckle with ease before impatiently shoving his pants and underwear down simultaneously, allowing his cock to spring free. You’re not sure what happens afterwards, too focused on the image of John’s large hand gripping his flushed length. He looks big even in his own hand – you want to know what he’ll look like with your smaller ones wrapped around it. You’re not sure you’ll be able to cover it completely even with both your hands, but god do you want to try. Your mouth practically waters as you rise up off the bed, reaching towards him, but he stops you with a hand on your shoulder.

“Lay back, sweetheart.” He growls, stills fisting his aching cock as he crawls back over you, pushing at your shoulder gently to force you down. But you resist, too focused on getting your mouth on him. You want to know how he’ll taste, how heavy he’ll will feel on your tongue, how wrecked he'll sound when he comes down your throat.

“Please, John, let me-” your hands are on his shoulders as you give him your best pleading eyes, licking your lips as you try to move on top of him. “Please let me suck your cock.”

“It’s alright-” he starts, but you silence him with a kiss, tongue licking into his mouth, giving him just a taste of what you want to do with his cock.

“I want to.” you breathe when you pull away, enjoying the heady look in his eyes as he gives in.

He allows you to push him back, to settle on your knees in front of him, but his eyes never leave yours. His tangles loosely in your hair, not tight enough to pull, but firm enough to remind you who’s in charge.

Your eyes remained fixed on his as take him into your hand, giving him a few languid strokes, before leaning down and letting your tongue flick over the head.

You watch as his breathing stutters, as his jaw twitches in what you’ve learnt is an attempt to restrain himself, to keep some semblance of control, as your hand continues to work his cock, your tongue swirling over the head and lapping at the beads of precum there.

You don’t want him controlled. You want to see him break.

Without warning you wrap your lips around his cock, taking him as deep as you can. You hear him swear above you, his hand tightening almost painfully in your hair as he fights the urge to buck his hips into the warmth of your mouth. You pull back, swirling your tongue around his tip, before bobbing your head again, taking him deeper, as your hand strokes what you can’t fit in your mouth. The noise he makes is positively sinful, half way between a moan and a growl, and you want to hear him make it again. You pull off his cock with a swirl of your tongue, but this time your mouth trails down his length, eventually reaching his heavy balls, and suck.

“Fuck.” He growls. With a grip just on the right side of painful, he pulls you off him, dragging your face up to his and meeting your lips in a bruising kiss. His tongue sweeps into your mouth, uncaring of the taste of himself as he guides you onto your back, hips slotting between yours, cock hot and heavy where it rests on your stomach. With his cock so close to where you need it, you think he might finally fuck you, but instead his hand trails down to cup your mound, fingers trailing through the arousal that’s gathered there, bringing it up tow swirl around your clit. You’re still sensitive from your previous orgasm, and the faint touch has you gasping, hips bucking into him, desperate to be filled.

“Have to get you ready, love.”

“’m ready now- please, John-”

“Patience.” he repeats his earlier words, thumb pressing lightly on your clit as his finger teases your entrance. “Gonna be a tight fit sweetheart, gotta stretch you out.” Just the thought of his cock bullying its way inside you has you clenching around nothing, and you think he can see it on you, as he teases a thick finger inside you, groaning at the way your walls clamp down around him. He adds a second finger, palm grinding against your clit, working you over into another orgasm with ease. You come with a cry, walls clenching around his fingers, and he groans at the sensation, imagining how you’ll feel coming around his cock. The thought alone is enough to have pulling his fingers from you, using the wetness on his fingers to fist his cock as he lines the weeping head with your slit. The feel of his tip pressing into you has you clinging to his shoulders, and he grips your leg, wrapping it over his hip, opening you further and allowing him to slip in deeper.

It’s achingly slow, the way he feeds his cock into you, as though he wants you to feel every single inch, every ridge and vein. By the time he bottoms out you’re nearly mad with anticipation, nails biting into his back as you try to force him to move, to give you some kind of relief.

“Fuck, sweetheart-” he groans at the sensation, fighting the urge to rut into with abandon, desperate to draw this out until he can feel you cumming.

You roll your hips up to meet his, desperately seeking the pleasure he’s withholding from you. But he denies you; keeping his thrusts just slow enough to keep you teetering on the edge without tipping over, driving you closer and closer to madness with each stroke, until you’re a sobbing, babbling wreck; begging him to please let you come.

“You wanna come, sweetheart?” He drawls, nosing along your jaw, his thumb just barely ghosting over where you need it.

“Yes.”

“Gonna have to ask nicer than that.” he teases, cock dragging against your walls in a way that's just shy of enough.

“Please, John, I – I’m so close – please, I –” you babble, half delirious with pleasure. Despite your previous orgasms, you need it, need him.

“Good girl.” he all but growls, thumb pressing down on your clit. That’s all it takes; you crash, white hot pleasure thrumming through every inch, clenching around his cock in attempt to drag him over the edge with you.

But he pulls out suddenly, cock slapping against your twitching, overstimulated clit as he squeezes the base to try and stave off his own orgasm. He taps it against your clit once, twice more more, enjoying the way you moan and writhe away from the contact, before he flips you over, dragging your limp and pliant body onto your knees. You can just barely manage to hold yourself up as he sinks his cock into your tight heat once more, the new angle hitting something inside you that has your eyes rolling back. The grip he has on your hips is is bruising as he sets a much faster pace, fucking into you as though you’re nothing more than a pretty little toy for him to use. It’s all you can do to grip the sheets but your head and try to keep yourself upright as he chases his own relief.

It’s not enough for John, however – if you can still hold yourself up, he hasn’t fucked you thoroughly enough. With one hand gripping your hips, his other arm against your chest and gripping the base of your throat like a collar, he drags your body up to meet his, your head dropping back onto his shoulder as his cock manages to hit even deeper inside you. Still not satisfied, he drags his fingers over your clit harshly; still sensitive, he has you on the precipice of another orgasm remarkably fast.

“I can’t- John-” Your hand goes to his where it fits over your cunt; you grip it tightly, but make no attempt to pull him away.

“One more, sweetheart. Let me feel you.” His lips ghost across your neck, his other hand kneading at your breast, and the combined sensations are enough to push you over the edge.

You come so hard you can’t even scream, your vision turning white and you collapse forward, the weight of John’s body following you, pinning you to the mattress. You barely register the feeling of John’s release shortly after, groaning as his hips stutter, as though trying to fuck his come deeper into you. He has just enough sense to roll off you slightly before he collapses fully, though his body is still a comforting weight tethering you to reality. Everything feels fuzzy, your limbs heavy. Even the brush of his breath against your neck lights up your skin like a livewire. You’re not sure how long the two of you lie there; with his warm body pressed against yours, and the gentle caress of his hands over your sweat-slicked skin, you feel lulled into an almost dreamlike state. You’re not sure if it’s minutes or hours before you feel his lips on your shoulder, his body pulling away from yours. You moan at the sensation of him slowly drags his cock from your sensitive walls, his cum already beginning to leak out. You barely even register him roll you onto your back, parting your thighs and settling between them, his eyes already dark as they fix onto your cunt.

“Fuck, that’s a pretty sight.” He says, mostly to himself, watching the pearly liquid dripping from your folds. He swipes his fingers through your folds, collecting what’s leaked out, before he stuffs them back inside of you.

“Look so pretty full of me, sweetheart.” You’re not sure if it’s the sound of his voice, his words, or his fingers inside you, but you can’t help but moan and clench down around him. He shifts his body so he can capture your lips, fingers still inside you. He kisses you languidly, tenderly, like he hadn’t just fucked your brain to liquid and left you boneless.

“You broken, love?” You can only weakly shake your head no, eyes still closed. “Don’t tell me you’ve had enough already.” You slowly open your eyes, finding him looking down at you with eyes dark, a smug look on his face like he’s won some game you weren't aware you were playing. Despite how tired you are, how blissed out you feel, you find yourself shaking your head, as if unwilling to disappoint him.

“Good. I’m not done with you yet.”

You wake in the morning with a pleasant ache between your thighs, your limbs still loose and boneless as you melt back into the mattress. You’re vaguely aware of the lack of another body in bed with you, but your limbs feel too heavy to move to check. You think you hear the sound of movement in your apartment, though it could just be your neighbours – either way, you’re too comfortable to care. It’s only when you hear the sound of footsteps approaching that you lazily open your eyes, just in time to see John, shirtless, broad chest and arms on full display as he places a steaming mug on your bedside table. You can’t help but admire him all over again in the golden morning light, eyes trailing over the expanse of his shoulders, remembering how he’d draped your legs over them whilst he buried his face in your cunt; the thickness of his fingers when he buried them inside you.

“Mornin’, love.” He leans over you, his hand gently cradling your face, and you rise up to meet his lips. It’s devoid of last night’s urgency, but still leaves you just as breathless and hungry. Your grip tightens as he moves to pull away, and you follow him, trying to bring his lips back to yours.

“Needy little thing.” He chuckles, pushing you back into the mattress and settling over you, his hand a solid weight on your throat as he tilts your head to look up at him. “Didn’t get enough last night?”

You say nothing, simply draw him back into a kiss, legs falling open as you allow him to settle between them.

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viviansvault3 · 19 days ago

Text

Jace is so well written here omg ty

not a choice - jacaerys velaryon

summary - when rumors spread surrounding a new choice in bride for jace, your insecurities get the best of you

targ!reader, so you have white hair. pre-war and they're just chillin on dragonstone so slay

also, tell me why i can write SO MUCH for jace?! like, over 6 and a half thousand words? huh??

warnings - nah

word count - 6.5k

______________________________________________________________

you were the one to see jace off when he left for the baratheon's rebellion at storm's end.

"stay safe," you requested gently, hands on his biceps as he offered you a bit of a sideways smile.

"don't fret, love," he told you, squeezing your waist as he pecked your lips. "i'll be perfectly fine, and i'll learn a lot. it's a miracle mother allowed me leave in the first place."

"i know, but i still worry," you answered with a short sigh. "it's a war you're attending to."

"a war that will be resolved quickly with the help of a dragon. when daemon went to the stepstones it was resolved rather quickly," he said.

"he was gone for months, jace. and you're not him, and vermax isn't caraxes," you reminded. "all i'm asking is to be careful. remember that you have a girl back home waiting for you."

"how could i forget? you're the most beautiful girl in all of westeros, it'd be difficult to forget you," he said with a widening grin as he pulled you in for another kiss. you smiled into it, hands sliding up to his shoulders as he held you tightly. "i'll talk to my mother when i return. i promise." he kissed you again. and then when he pulled back, he winked. "and your hand will be mine." he pressed his lips to yours even more firmly than before.

when he pulled back you noticed the dragon pit guards looking awkwardly away from you both and you let out a breathy laugh and nodded. "i'll be looking forward to it. but now, you need to go. lord borros is waiting for you."

"i'll write if i can," he promised.

"i will too," you answered. "be safe."

"i'll be better than that - i'll be victorious."

his laugh echoed behind him as he mounted the green dragon he was bonded to, the agile thing chirping as you offered them both a wave. he winked before taking off into the clouds, headed straight for the narrow sea.

you let out a deep sigh, spinning the ring on your middle finger as you watched him disappear into the sky.

"you know it's your last time you'll see him like that, huh?" your handmaiden asked with a sad frown as she looked at you.

your eyes snapped to hers, brows knitted tightly. "what do you mean?"

her eyes widened. "that's just what everyone around the grounds has been saying. that he's headed to help win lord borros' favor to wed his eldest daughter. apparently there have been talks."

"that's ridiculous. we're practically betrothed, my father would never allow it," you answered, waving the suggestion away.

"your father isn't here, my princess," she said quietly. "but lady elenda and their daughters are arriving in a fortnight, as you know. it seems as though princess rhaenyra wants the alliance."

"what need do we have of the baratheons?" you asked, shaking your head even as your brows furrowed further. "this is a nonsensical idea. jace and i have been set to be betrothed for years."

"it's just a rumor, your highness," she said, volume dropping even more.

"yes," you said, glancing up at the skies once more. "just a rumor."

the baratheons arrived only days after jace's departure in order to stay safe from the chaotic rebellion on their homeland and you were surprised to not be called to treat with them. rhaenyra insisted there was "no need" for you to bother yourself with the formalities.

apparently, they would not be staying long.

you were walking with baela when you were approached by a courtier you knew was a lover of gossip.

"is it true?" he asked with a tilt of his head and an interested smile. "is your almost-engagement off?"

you raised your brows. "funny. no, it's not."

"rumor has it it's going to be," he told you, tsk'ing his tongue as he shook his head. "the baratheon girl - cassandra - she's a beauty. dark haired like our prince with glittering gold eyes. fit for royalty."

"you cannot announce such implications like that to your princess," baela said with a glare. "off with you. the baratheon girl will leave and y/n will remain. and if you anger her more it will be your pain."

"as you wish, my princess," the man said with a slight bow, though his smile remained ever so slightly on his lips.

"ridiculous," she scoffed as he went on his way.

you hesitated as the four baratheon sisters rounded the corner, all strikingly beautiful in their own ways - in ways completely opposite you. the oldest, cassandra, held herself high, poised, proper in every way as her sisters giggled about her. "is it, though?"

baela followed your eyes before scoffing again and slapping your arm. "it is. you two have been head over heels for each other as long as i can remember. father and rhaenyra are betrothing you. those arrangements are set in stone."

"except they aren't. and father is not exactly in rhaenyra's good graces currently."

"she's not cruel," she told you. "she will not take out her frustrations with our father on you. or jace. he loves you, and she knows that."

your eyes remained on cassandra for far too long until you both finally turned the opposite corner and you let out a breath. "right."

you were surprised when you received your first raven from jace a few weeks later, not entirely sure if he'd be able to get one out to you.

my love,

i finally understand how the stormlands got their name. vermax hasn't taken well to the constant wind and rain, but we've managed to calm the fight a decent amount. i'm certain i'll arrive home soon.

lord borros has been kind with me, though he is a rather gruff man. he trusts my judgment and allows me to make my own moves with vermax, which i appreciate. we've worked well together and i see us continuing to be powerful allies in the future.

i hope you're staying entertained without me. i wish you were here. well, i don't wish you were actually here, but i wish i could see you. i miss you.

have you spent time with the baratheon girls? lord borros insists his eldest is a wonderful girl, as does my mother. i hope you've found a friend in her.

i'll try to be home soon.

i love you.

jace

you gripped the parchment tightly, eyes scanning the lines about borros and cassandra nearly a dozen times before you finally rested it against the desk again.

his mother spoke to him of her. lord borros was speaking of her even in times of war and rebellion.

perhaps there was an element of truth to the rumors.

but jace loved you, you knew that. rhaenyra would respect that, or at least you hoped.

luke's approach was quick and his brow was furrowed as he looked down at you. "my mother has been speaking with lady elenda in the war room all morning."

"what?" you wondered.

"she's asked to see you," he continued with a heavy breath.

"me?" you repeated with wide eyes.

"you. now."

you stared at him a little longer as his brows fell into a sympathetic gaze before finally moving around him and heading towards the princess' rooms. as you walked, you spotted the younger three baratheon girls giggling their way to the gardens and then when you were outside the hallway there was cassandra and elenda.

when they spotted you they both fell into instantaneous curtsies, cassandra's head dipping lower than her mother's as she spoke: "your highness."

"the princess is waiting for you," lady elenda said as she rose, looking back towards the doors.

you didn't answer, nodding instead to the both of them and passing them by in favor of rhaenyra's rooms. you heard elenda begin whispering to her daughter but you just kept moving forward, the guards pulling the doors open upon your arrival.

you immediately fell into a deep curtsy, silvery white hair falling in front of your eyes before you raised again.

"you called?" you asked as they shut the doors behind you, eyes immediately falling on the princess seated at her desk.

she looked up at you, eyes softening as a smile pulled at her lips. "my girl, how are you?"

you raised your shoulders and mustered a hesitant smile, still uncertain of what this conversation was going to lead to. "i'm well, thank you. and you, your highness?"

she let out a breath through her nose, smile tightening before she nodded. "i'm fine, yes. thank you, darling."

your eyes roamed the room, hands clasped in front of you as protocol called for.

"what was it that you needed?" you asked when your gaze fell back on her.

rhaenyra stood then, rounding the desk to lean against the front of it and eye you intently, letting out a breath as she mulled over her words. "i need to speak to you about jace."

"is he alright?" you asked instantly, taking a step towards the princess. "he wrote to me a few days ago. has something happened since then?"

"he is perfectly alright," she said, holding her hands out as she shook her head. "he is fine. but, there has been much conversation about him and his future. lord borros is impressed with him."

you paused before speaking. "that's wonderful."

"it is. i think we will end this rebellion with much stronger ties to the baratheons than before," she said.

"i'm sure he's grateful for jace's aid."

"eternally. lady elenda speaks well of him too."

"they've met?"

rhaenyra's eyes were intense as she watched you and you quickly schooled your features so you didn't come off as offensive as you assumed you'd looked previously.

"briefly, when you all were children you were introduced. i believe she once wished her daughter to be wed to him. she's always sought a tie to the throne," she hummed, still watching you closely.

"many do," you answered, rubbing your right thumb over the top of the left in a fit of developing nerves. "i'm grateful you and my father betrothed us when you did."

"yes, we certainly ended those possibilities early," she said.

you held your breath for a moment, trying to bite your tongue as best you could and suppress the little voice within you that resembled your father's.

rhaenyra was still smiling, so you tried to keep yours afloat too.

"are you worried that lady elenda is still set in her previous plans?" you asked her carefully. "it is odd she hasn't found a match for cassandra. she's been of age for a few years now, has she not?"

"yes, she has," she answered. "and i agree that it is odd. i am not entirely sure of her intentions, but she and her husband are quite... stubborn individuals. and very self-interested. if i am to be honest with you, my dear, i'm worried for our standing even after the end of this whole ordeal."

"even after jace practically rescues them?"

"even then."

and then you couldn't help yourself, you had to know. "are you considering dissolving our betrothal in order to secure their support for you as queen?"

the silence that followed was thick.

rhaenyra was a thoughtful woman, and her eyes remained heavy on yours as she went over her words.

it caused your heart to quicken, realizing her silence as your answer.

if she hadn't been considering it she would've denied you by now. but, she hadn't. she was still thinking it through.

"the baratheons are much better as allies than foe," she decided. "it would do us good to secure our alliance with them."

"by putting their daughter on the iron throne next to jace just like they want?" you wondered with wide eyes before you caught yourself. you stood straight and stepped back as her face fell, reaching an arm out to stop you. "we've been betrothed for a decade."

"i know. sweet girl-"

"i'm in love with him," you said, stepping back further as she pushed off the desk and moved towards you. "and he's in love with me. you need to know that before you make whatever agreements and alliances you need to."

"darling," she sighed. "i cannot promise anything. this is politics. this is our lives, you know this."

"i do. i've heard my father's lectures on the importance of strong matches and sturdy alliances, which is why i'm not fighting you on it. i just need you to know what you're breaking before you break it," you said, voice as strong as it could be even as you reached for the handle. "let me know if he sends word."

she nodded, lips downturned as she watched you pull the door open. "i will."

"i'll see you at supper." and then you were gone.

the air of dragonstone shifted after that conversation. other than baela, luke, and rhaena, everyone had begun treating you different. the maids and guards and lords and ladies watched you with a sort of sadness, an odd sort of pity that made you want to crawl out of your skin or slap someone.

and they'd become more attentive to the baratheon girls.

lady elenda, you learned, was a boisterous woman who loved to speak about her daughters. namely cassandra. she'd show the servants her newest stitchings or announce how lovely she was with words, begging the girl to recite a poem of her own writing.

she did it morning noon and night.

at first, rhaenyra smiled and nodded as expected, clapping at the end of the poem or gasping at the beautiful new stitching.

the ladies of court were just as supportive, and so were the servant girls who would be in the room at the time.

baela would just scoff and roll her eyes, whispering to you: "you'd think she was ten, how excited her mother is that she can stitch."

"don't be rude," you whispered sharply even as a smile pulled at your lips. "maybe she just learned."

baela snorted into her glass, earning a few looks and a wide smile from lucerys and rhaena.

elenda narrowed her brows. "did our princesses have something to share?"

"we were discussing our own stitching projects," you answered. "they're a bit... different than sweet cassandra's, but important nonetheless."

the woman wasn't a fan of you, you figured immediately as her look sharpened more. "and what are your projects, if you don't mind my asking?"

"we make our own riding armor," you told her, leaning back in your chair and sipping your wine quietly as the surrounding individuals who were not from storm's end leaned in with excitement. "our father taught us when we were little. since dragonriding is a dangerous and quite adventurous activity we usually get rips and tears in the fabric, so it's easier to fix them ourselves anyways."

and then you made eye contact with elenda, a half smile on your lips.

"i even made prince jacaerys' for him. i've begun teaching him how to repair them, so i'm sure we'll continue our lessons upon his return since there will be plenty to repair."

cassandra's gaze dropped for a second before it sharpened again - something brittle in her pride, like cracked porcelain. she glanced at her mother before looking to you again.

"that's good of you," she said.

"it's quite impressive," rhaenyra chimed in with a smile your direction. "i am always impressed with the princess."

your smirk softened into a smile and you nodded. "thank you."

it was then that the door burst open and her personal guard came to her side, whispering shortly in her ear. she stood, meeting your eyes.

"jacaerys has returned."

that had the baratheons perking up. elenda grinned. "perfect timing! it'd be lovely for him to reunite with cassandra. it's been ages since they-"

"i think prince jacaerys could do with some rest before socializing," rhaenyra said with a shake of her head and a smile. "perhaps in the morning."

"oh, yes, of course," elenda said as you and the princess began to make your way out of the dining hall. when you passed her, she caught your arm. her fingers pressed into the skin just above your elbow, soft but insistent - like a mother restraining a child. it made your stomach churn. "dear, the princess said he needs rest. you should probably stay here and leave the boy be."

you pulled your arm from her and moved to rhaenyra's side in one swift motion, shaking your head. "he'll want to see me."

and then you both left, leaving elenda and cassandra with wide eyes and slack jaws.

baela shrugged, stabbing a piece of chicken and meeting the baratheon mother's eyes. "she's not wrong."

you raced to jace's chambers with rhaenyra on your heels, pushing the door open with an unmatched urgency.

jace turned immediately, brows raised high before his face lit up and he caught you around the waist, burrowing his face in your hair as he held you tightly. he hummed lowly, pressing a kiss to your neck and shoulder. "hello love."

"seven hells i missed you," you breathed out. you pulled back, hands cupping his jaw by his neck as you looked him over. "you're alright?"

he let out a laugh. "i'm better than alright. i'm victorious."

you rolled your eyes, but smiled nonetheless. "good. i'm proud of you, and i'm damn glad you're home."

he pulled you back into his arms, squeezing you tightly. "me too, love."

you only pulled away so that he could greet his mother, sporting a wide smile as usual. "i have a lot to speak with you about, mother. lord borros is a talker."

"i've heard," she said, matching his smile. "you've done well, sweet boy. rest for now and we will speak in the morn."

"no, i'm quite alright," he told her, waving the suggestion away. "if i could speak to you now, that'd be preferable. if you have the time, of course."

rhaenyra looked at you then, like she knew something you didn't before returning her eyes and smile to her son. "yes. i've got the time."

"wonderful," jace said before glancing back to you and reaching for you again. "give me a few minutes and then i'll come find you, yeah?"

"alright," you answered, unsurprised by his desire to get whatever it was he wanted to speak with his mother of over with before fully relaxing. you pressed a kiss to his cheek. "i'll be in my chambers."

"i'll be there in a few minutes," he promised, hand on your cheek as he directed your lips to his for a few seconds before pulling back with a cheeky smile.

"okay," you said, grinning as you backed to the door.

"okay," he answered.

you exchanged a nod with rhaenyra before disappearing into the hallway.

you trusted jace with everything you had. you trusted him more than anyone else in this world - more than your father, or either of the twins, or rhaenyra. you knew he loved you, that much was evident. but, you also knew of his dedication to his mother and the throne that would one day be his own. if she decided to mention potential matches to him you weren't entirely sure which way he would sway.

it was a conversation you would save for later.

after an adequate welcoming home.

"i missed you," you mumbled against his mouth, hands in his hair as he pushed you back into your room and closed the door behind himself. he grinned into the kiss, flicking the lock shut before wrapping an arm around your middle and pulling you into him.

"i missed you too, darling," he hummed, squeezing you tighter as you stepped with him back towards the sofa in front of the fire.

it didn't take much effort to push you onto it, the boy holding himself just barely over you as he shifted his attention from your lips to your neck.

"what'd you speak with your mother about?" you asked, breaths deepening as he bit down gently on a sensitive spot, quickly soothing the bruise with a swipe of his tongue before he pulled away to meet your eyes with the same mischievous grin that had won you over years prior.

"why should i tell you?" he hummed, capturing your lips before you could object, one hand sliding up from your waist to cup your jaw and keep you close.

"because i'm intrigued," you answered, breathing out a laugh as you dodged his next kiss even as he tried to pull you back in. "we had a very interesting conversation the other day, and i'm curious if she mentioned it to you."

he paused, hovering over you as his brows slowly furrowed. "what did you talk about?"

you held his eyes for several moments before breathing out: "you first."

he considered you, eyes flickering from your eyes to your lips before he finally pushed off you and sat back against the arm of the sofa, gesturing you to him instantly. you sat up, leaning sideways against the back cushion and reaching for his hand which he immediately allowed you to take.

"i suspect that our alliance with the baratheons is a fragile thing," he began carefully, squeezing your hand absentmindedly. "lord borros is a prideful man. he spoke much of his family and their successes. he made mention of his belief that the baratheons could have been what we targaryens are had they been the ones with dragons."

"but they don't have dragons."

"exactly, and they never will," he answered with a nod. "still, it was slightly concerning to hear. i don't believe he holds true loyalty to my mother or to alicent in regards to our inevitable debate for the throne. whoever will cater to him the most will gain his support."

"his wife seems to function in a similar manner," you told him with a thin smile. "a bit of an obnoxious lady. she's very proud of her daughters."

he perked up a bit at that, as though he just recalled something. "have you met them?"

"her daughters?"

"yes. lord borros said good things. i thought maybe they could be friends to you, given that there aren't many our age on the island."

you breathed out a laugh, shaking your head as you looked down at your joined hands. "no, jace. i don't anticipate any friendships forming soon."

"why?" when you looked up at him he seemed genuinely curious, head tilted and brows furrowed at you. he squeezed your hand. "what makes you say that?"

you looked over his sharp targaryen features that resembled his mother and even your father in some ways, and then the soft pouty lips and dark brunette curls that belonged to his true blooded father. the deep brown of his eyes accented with an amethyst hue, and the perfectly dotted freckles sprayed across his nose.

and strangely, cassandra came to mind.

her delicately waved nearly black locks she braided with purple ribbons and the dots of blush she always applied to her cheekbones. she was a few years your senior and her bone structure showed it - a perfect button nose, high cheekbones, plump lips and a jawline that was defined just enough to be amazingly feminine.

she was an elegant little doe, just as she'd been trained to be. gentle and simple and the right amount of stubborn, unlike her mother.

and you deflated a bit, glancing away from jace to the fire beside you.

"no reason," you finally decided, mustering a small smile. "she just seems content with her sisters, as am i. i'm not desperate for friendship, jacaerys. i'm quite content with baela, rhaena, and luke."

"and me," he said, grinning as he pulled you towards him.

you laughed, nodding slightly and settling yourself comfortably on his lap. "yes, jace. if i've got you, i'm alright. no need for baratheon girls to fill my time."

"ditto," he hummed, hand on your neck again as he guided your lips back to his.

the next day lady elenda forced the two to meet, and neither you nor luke were invited.

"i don't like that woman," you muttered to the younger boy as you both strolled the grounds, hands clasped in front of you.

"neither do i," he breathed out with a shake of his head. "she's been trying to set me up with her other daughter, elliana, and i've reminded her of my betrothal to rhaena nearly a hundred times. i reckon jace is doing the same."

"except he can't," you said, kicking at the pebbles by your feet with a huff. "we're not betrothed."

"you're not?"

"not technically. my father's never actually declared it. your betrothal to rhaena happened before laena's death whereas mine has been left in daemon's hands. and, well, you know how he is."

lucerys watched you for several moments before nodding. "right. either way, i'm sure jace is fending off their advances."

"he'll do his best," you sighed decidedly.

luke's eyes remained on you longer than you appreciated before he opened his mouth to speak again, only cut off by the call of his older brother.

"can i join you?" jace asked as he came to luke's side with a grin.

you looked over at him with a thin smile, shrugging gently. "i'm actually meant to meet rhaena soon. how about you two practice some?"

"you don't want to watch?" jacaerys teased, moving around his brother to rest a hand on your arm.

you breathed out a half a laugh. "as much as i'd love to, i can't. how were the baratheons?"

"cassandra seems kind," he answered with a shrug. "her mother is as you said - very pushy. my mother seemed strangely interested in the whole thing. but, i'm glad to be done with it." he smiled at you. "you sure you don't want to watch us train?"

"i know where to find you if i do," you told him, smiling slightly as you patted his chest before passing him by towards your rooms. you looked to luke. "who knows, maybe rhaena will want to stop by."

the boy flushed red, earning laughs from both you and jace as you left.

"goodbye, love!" jace called, brows furrowed slightly at your swift absence.

you waved over your shoulder and moved quick to your rooms.

that night at dinner things were as they'd been for weeks.

you sat between jace and baela, whispering quiet quips to the latter as elenda began her daily bragging. jace, a virgin to her tales, seemed too interested, which made the baratheon women smile widely.

"that is quite impressive," he said with a nod. "you are quite the poet, lady cassandra."

"why thank you, my prince," the dark haired girl answered, eyelashes too long as she blinked and smiled at your boy. he returned her smile, your heart pounding once in your chest as you looked between them.

it had to be instinct, but your hand went straight to his upper thigh, running from his knee to his inner thigh quick and then slow, which earned his immediate attention.

his eyes were wide and his pupils dramatically dilated as they met yours, head tilted in question as the corner of his mouth lifted and then fell again. his voice was quiet when he spoke: "did you need something, darling?"

"nope," you said, holding your fork with your free hand and poking at the food on your plate. when you looked back at him you smiled sideways. "just missed having you next to me."

he hummed, catching your hand as it slid back up his thigh and holding it there. "i missed this too."

you held his eyes for several moments before flashing a quicker smile, squeezing his thigh, and returning to your plate while bringing your hand back to your own lap.

you glanced up to meet cassandra's frustratingly gold eyes, only looking away to see her mother and rhaenyra stuck in a stare off. baela nudged your side, nodding at the scene before elenda finally cleared her throat.

"prince jacaerys, your mother tells me you're a wonderful dancer," she said, looking to the boy with an expectant smile. "how about you and cassandra indulge a bit? this music is excellent."

for the first time that night, you noticed the music. it was a common tune, the dance that went with it known by nearly all who resided in westeros. you exchanged a look with jace before he swallowed and turned his attention to the black haired woman.

"does lady cassandra dance?" he asked.

"she knows enough, but not as well as you i'm sure," her mother answered. "she could use a teacher as skilled as you, sweet prince."

you cringed, jace's eyes flicking back to you before he nodded. "yes, i'm sure princess y/n and i could demonstrate. it's an easy enough dance-"

"how about you simply dance with cassandra? cut out the middleman, if you would. the princess needn't assist where her assistance isn't needed."

you met her eyes this time, mouth thin and eyes sharp as steel as your features schooled into a look that rhaenyra could only describe as daemon-like. jace reached for your hand, but you pulled away, standing from your seat with an all-too-polite smile and shooting a look to rhaenyra and then to the lady baratheon. "if you'll excuse me."

and then as you stepped away from a watching jacaerys cassandra stood, rounding the table and walking past you to stand opposite the boy. "if you don't mind, my prince, i'd be happy to dance with you."

you heard baela's scoff as you walked away, but you ignored it, and you ignored whatever jace's answer was.

and since he didn't follow you, you had a pretty good idea of what it was.

you didn't have it in you to socialize the next few days, resolving to stay in your chambers instead. baela and rhaena stopped by several times, but you insisted they go about their days.

"tell rhaenyra i'm sick," you said when they first came to fetch you for supper.

"are you?" rhaena asked with a raised brow.

you let out a heavy breath. "to my stomach, rhaena."

jace attempted to see you, but you never opened the door.

"love, open up."

"i'm sick, jace, i don't want to infect you." you pressed yourself against the door so he could hear you, and so he wouldn't try to bang the thing open.

he sighed. "bullshit, open up."

"just let me rest, i'll be out tomorrow."

"darling, honestly-"

"leave me be, jacaerys."

and then, to your utter surprise and disappointment, he did.

it was another day before he returned, skipping the formality of knocking and simply unlocking the door and pushing it open. you shrieked, pulling your comforter over yourself as he locked it behind him. "jace, what are you doing here?"

"why are you being like this?" he demanded quietly, brows knitted and arms crossed over his chest. "i've been gone for weeks and now you won't see me?"

you sighed. "jace, i don't feel well."

"that's shit and you know it too," he said, shaking his head.

you narrowed your gaze, dropping your arms back to your lap. "it's not!"

"you're not sick, y/n."

"i didn't say i was."

"so, what, you don't feel well emotionally? you don't like having me back?" he asked, brows knitted in a way that suddenly made you feel like a terrible person for insinuating such a thing.

"of course i like having you back," you said, groaning slightly. "i just don't like everyone else having you back too. the baratheon ladies to be specific."

"so you avoid me?"

"so i wallow in my pain and acceptance that your mother is going to marry you off to her," you corrected sharply, glaring at him openly now. "and you know it too. our relations with the baratheons are poor because of their pride and the only thing to fix it is to tie them to us permanently. to put one of their own on the throne beside you. you said it yourself, they will not take the side that does not benefit them."

he stared at you, eyes narrowed and jaw locked as he considered his words. "is that what you think?"

"that's what you said," you told him.

"you know what? you're right," he said, stepping towards you and letting one knee rest on the mattress. "that is what i said. because it's true. they won't do anything unless it be for their own self gain. but when did i ever say that that required us to indulge them?"

you sighed, shaking your head. "you didn't, but your mother-"

"i spoke with her," he told you. "she suggested the possibility. she told me that you understood. that you allowed her to make whatever decision was necessary for her throne."

you sat up straighter, shaking your head again. "that's not exactly true-"

"do you want to know what i said?" he asked, tilting his head at you.

you paused, watching him breathe deeply in and out of his nose before nodding. "yes."

"i told her no. i refused the thought." and suddenly your breath was gone. "i told her that she could take anything she wanted from me, my name, my dragon, my crown, but she couldn't take you. i listen to and abide by every rule she puts before me and the one thing i demand in return is you. and still, you avoid me. you need all my attention one moment and disappear the next."

that had you standing in seconds, running a hand through your insanely messy hair as you rounded the bed towards him.

"jace," you mumbled, reaching for him.

"don't," he said, stepping back.

"jacaerys," you said again, grabbing him by the biceps and pulling yourself towards him. one hand slipped up to cup his jaw as a small frown pulled at your lips. "i didn't want to step on your toes. your mother means the world to you and you are loyal to her to the end. i wanted you to make whatever choice was required of you."

"i'm loyal to you first," he whispered quietly, head falling forward to rest against yours, and your heart skipped a beat.

you reached your arms up to wrap around his neck, hugging him tightly to you and he just melted into it, his arms winding around your waist snugly. "i'm yours, jacaerys," you told him, pressing a kiss to his neck. "i'm yours. always."

"good," he mumbled into your hair.

that night you attended supper, brighter than you had been in weeks and clinging to jace's arm like your life depended on it.

when you sat, baela shot you a grin. "i see you two made up."

"he wore me down," you teased, jace rolling his eyes as he pulled your chair out for you. as you sat you felt nearly every pair of eyes on you, and as you glanced towards the head of the table you noticed both rhaenyra and your father, surprisingly, watching you and jace with the slightest of smiles.

"cassandra has written a new poem," elenda said, earning an amusing exchange of exasperated looks between you, baela, rhaena, and luke. jace knitted his brows and smiled at you, tilting his head in interest.

"this is a reoccurring thing," you whispered, squeezing his knee as he nodded in understanding.

"four poems in four days," rhaenrya mused with what you'd deemed her 'political princess smile' and a short nod. "impressive. you must have a lot of time on your hands, cassandra."

"enough to work my art," the girl answered, adjusting her posture as her gaze flicked to you. "i know dragonstone is quite busy, but i appreciate the reprieve that the oratory arts offer."

"i'm sure. though, i can't say many of us can relate to this," rhaenyra said, her eyes flicking to you and jace. "we prefer a different sort of reprieve. my future daughter by law, for example, spends many of her evenings in the sky."

"yes, she's told of her dragonriding rendezvous," elenda hummed with a thin smile your direction. "how she created her own uniform."

"she created mine as well," jacaerys added with grin.

"so she mentioned," elenda answered. "though we baratheons do not have dragons, we do our best to stay entertained and experienced."

"i'm sure y/n would be happy to give you an experience with a dragon, should you like," rhaenyra offered, glancing your way with a widening smile.

"her dragon is very eventempered," daemon said. "she claimed him when she was only ten and one. vermithor, the bronze fury."

cassandra's eyes widened. "oh! well, i've no need to ride a dragon. i'm quite content with my poems."

daemon snickered into his glass as he took a sip. "not as brazen as your father, are you?"

you breathed out a laugh, thankful for your father's sudden but welcomed return.

"i'm sorry," baela said, turning to rhaenyra with knitted brows and a wicked smile. "did i hear you correctly? did you call her your future daughter by law? are they getting married?"

it was then that lady elenda and her four daughters caught on as well, cassandra looking to the younger three with knitted brows as they looked to their mother.

"oh, yes," daemon said, sitting back in his seat. "we were going to announce that. yes, prince jacaerys will be wedding my daughter."

"when?" cassandra asked quickly, her eyes widening like she hadn't meant to say what she did.

"as quickly as possible," jace answered, holding your hand beneath the table and grinning. "i've been waiting years to call her my wife. i have no desire to wait any longer."

elenda was staring daggers at rhaenyra, whose eyes remained on her plate despite the growing smile to her lips.

"congratulations," cassandra managed, offering you the simplest of smiles.

you nodded, squeezing jace's hand and smiling widely. "thank you."

"well, i meant to announce tonight that we are leaving back to storm's end on the morrow," elenda said with a nod. "now that the rebellion is complete we are safe to return."

"yes, we're very lucky that prince jacaerys sped that up for you all so you could go home," you said, maintaining your smile. elenda narrowed her eyes.

"yes. thank you, prince jacaerys."

the boy lifted a glass of wine to his lips with a grin, nodding. "anytime."

eventually, rhaenyra steered the conversation elsewhere, though you and jace maintained your own semi-privately with your knees brushing and hands clasping whenever there weren't forks in them.

"thank you," you whispered to him as you gazed up with a smile. "for choosing me."

he shrugged, nudging your foot with his own. "there wasn't ever really a choice."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

thanks for reading! leave a request in the comments or message me privately! i love writing, so if you've got an idea you need fleshed out on paper i'd love to be the one to do that for you

masterlist!!

#jacaerys velaryon x reader #fic rec

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viviansvault3 · 19 days ago

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Jacaerys Velaryon post coming soon..

still fixing it up but you’ll hear from me soon :b

#♱viviannoucements #Short fic coming soon yayyyyy #jacaerys velaryon x reader #prince jacaerys #jacaerys velaryon

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viviansvault3 · 22 days ago

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big fan of everyone writing whatever the hell they want

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viviansvault3 · 22 days ago

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PERFECTION!

TY TY.

Please do like more bestie simon stuff, where’d he’d do anything and everything for you so discreetly that you don’t even notice, then just casually admits he’s in love like he just told you he got some tea for base. Just like the ”bestie” fix you wrote😋😋

I believe it started with the gloves.

You forget them after training one morning, and it's nothing new; you always forget something, but they’re in your locker before your next session, clean, dry, and folded.

Then it’s the hoodie you left on the range. It shows up two days later, and it's already washed. The same goes for the spare charger you lost, the one that just magically ends up on your bunk with no note. You figure someone’s being nice, but no one says anything. No one takes credit.

Then it’s your boots. You mention that they’re starting to rub, and a week later, they suddenly have your exact size in the model you actually like, even though they’ve been out for months.

It keeps going with little things.

Your favorite protein bars are back in stock. A cracked mug you loved was replaced without a word. Your reports? Suddenly flawless. No red marks, no nitpicks, nothing.

“Do you think I’m, like, haunted?” you ask Soap one night while stretching.

“Haunted,” he repeats. “By what, a ghost?”

“I’m serious. My locker jammed last week—I couldn’t even get it open—and then the next morning it’s fine. Like, not just fixed. Like it was never broken. And my nameplate was polished.”

Soap raises his brows. “You think a ghost did that?”

“I don’t know! I just know I didn’t fix it.”

He snorts. “Oh. That’s not a ghost.”

“…What is it then?”

“Mate. That’s Ghost.”

You stare. “You’re kidding.”

He shakes his head. “Saw him after you stormed out of the locker room, all pissed off. Waited till no one was around, pulled out a screwdriver like it was nothing. Fixed the hinge and wiped it down like a bloody maintenance guy.”

You go quiet.

—

You start paying attention after that. Really paying attention.

Simon walks behind you when you’re both in crowds. Waits outside rooms without saying why. Walks with you after meals like it’s a coincidence, even though you know your schedules don’t line up.

He lifts the heavy stuff without being asked. And it’s never a big thing. He does it all like it’s just something that happens.

You try to call him out once.

“You’re like my silent guardian angel or something,” you tease, flopping onto the rec room couch next to him. “All these little favors and no credit?”

Simon doesn’t even look up from the file he’s skimming.

Later that night, you find him up on the roof like always, sitting in his usual spot with two mugs of tea. He passes one to you without a word.

You sit next to him. He waits.

You lean back against the concrete, glancing at him. “So. You’re not denying the angel thing?”

He takes a slow sip and shrugs.

“‘m not your angel.” He pauses before he shrugs again. “Just in love with you, is all.”

You blink. “Come again?”

He completely ignores us as he raises his mug. “Also got your favorite blend. The mess hall ran out, so I got it off Price’s stash.”

“No, no, back up.” You shift to face him fully. “Did you just say you’re in love with me just like that?”

He shrugs. “Thought you knew.”

“How would I know?!”

He looks at you, totally deadpan. “Who else am I doin’ paperwork for?”

You open your mouth. Close it. Open it again. “Simon!”

He chuckles. “You’re cute when you’re mad.”

“I’m not mad, I’m in shock.”

Another sip. “Same thing, really.”

You shake your head. “You’re unbelievable.”

He finally turns toward you, shoulder nudging yours. “So, what now?”

You pretend to think as you sip your tea. “Well. I guess I kiss you. And then maybe I let you keep doing my reports.”

Simon huffs. “So I do get something out of it.”

You roll your eyes. “Oh yeah. All my love and a mountain of paperwork waiting.”

He bumps your shoulder again. “Worth it.”

-------------------------------------------

@daydreamerwoah @kylies-love-letter @ghostslollipop @kittygonap @alfiestreacle @identity2212 @farylfordaryl @rafaelacallinybbay @akkahelenaa @lovelovelovelovelove987654321 @wraith-bravo6 @tessakate @xocandyy @nightfwn @robinfeldt98 @xiisblogs @mad-die45 @readingthingy @actualpoppy @amongthe141 @whore4romance @thatghostlykid @syofrelief @avgdestitute @sheepdogchick3 @echo9821 @imalapdog

#fic rec #simon ghost riley x you #omg i love this

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viviansvault3 · 27 days ago

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i’m literally foaming at the mouth hello.

Corrupt as the Moon

Pairing • Jacaerys x white-haired twin reader

Tags • sibling incest, mention of past underage sex, smut, p. in. v sex, breeding kink

Wordcount • 2,315

Caught between his love for you and his envy of your situation, Jacaerys cannot reconcile with the desire that has plagued him of late—to see you, his twin, round with his child.

Jacaerys Masterlist

Destruction was hanging over Jacaerys’ head, like the shadow that had fallen upon Valyria, and he wondered whether this realm would truly see the rightful line restored—Aegon was determined to continue in this folly, and now his mother had summoned Dragonseeds at her side.

Whether it was from his uncle or the dragon bastards, Jacaerys felt as though his very claim, his very existence was in peril, and he did not know what to believe or trust anymore. The dynasty he was heir to was in danger, and his situation ever the more precarious.

You knew nothing of his torment, he thought, for you had hair as pale as his was dark. You were the only daughter, cherished for that fact alone, and thus were protected. You knew nothing of the burden of the crown, of being the heir to a disputed legacy. He envied the way you would likely escape whatever fate had in store for those who pretended to the throne.

This bitterness had grown in him these last few weeks, a rot setting in his bones and poisoning his heart against you. It had rooted itself in the envy he had always felt towards you and your silver hair, the irrefutable proof that you were a true born dragon princess, which had shielded you from the rumors at time passed.

And yet, despite his despair and his anger, he could not help the way you made his blood boil, how your entire being called to him, to an instinct that was older, greater than him.

He wished nothing more than to prove himself worthy, in the eyes of his mother and queen, and in the eyes of the realm and its lords, that he was the true son of the dragon, a true heir to the crown.

A dark, swirling pit at the bottom of his stomach seemed to have convinced him that there was no better proof of the pureness of his blood, and of his worthiness, than a true born child. To watch your womb swell, to place an egg in a cradle and to crown the babe that would come of his body and yours—this very image plagued his dreams and his wandering thoughts, until he now felt he would succumb to madness.

No doubt it was survival, an instinct greater than reason. Or perhaps it was his despair, his desire for comfort and the promise of a future.

To shield you from yet another danger, he took his distance. He thought the less he saw of you, the more his anger would fade, and the more his shameful desire would subside. Every night he stayed long past dusk, pouring over tomes on the Targaryen dynasty, hoping to find some respite, and this particular night was no different.

Jacaerys had not seen you in days and had hoped not to set eyes on you for a little while longer, but when he entered his chambers on Dragonstone and saw that you were there, waiting for him, he realized how foolish he had been.

Even dressed for bed you looked regal, in an embroidered robe and lace nightgown. The bright light of the moon was coming through the window and made you look almost translucent, ethereal, and he thought that if he caught you at the right angle, he would be able to see right through you.

“Where have you been?” you asked, soft and sweet as usual.

“In the library, reading. Studying,” he replied, growing annoyed when you ignored his sharp and curt tone.

“I have scarcely seen you,” you said, more as a remark than a lament. “You flew to the Freys, against mother’s orders, I’ve been told.”

“I was successful in getting their support,” Jacaerys bristled as he unclasped his cloak and set it over the back of a chair, then toeing his boots off. The stones were cool under his feet and he welcomed the grounding sensation. You still had not moved from where you were seated near the window.

“I did not mean to sound reproachful. Rather, I admire you for it,” you said, which made him frown. “I am kept here like a bird in a cage.”

Jacaerys sighed, unwilling to delve into this particular topic, knowing he would only hurt you with his words, and despite his anger, he did not wish to cut you so. “Have you anything else to say? I shall like to rest.”

Without waiting for your answer, he started on the buttons of his doublet, pulling the front lapel open, and you went to help without prompting, standing behind him and pulling the thick fabric from his shoulders. The mere brush of your fingers through his shirt made him swallow nervously, but he still pulled his cotton undershirt over his head, hoping it would prompt you to leave him to rest.

However you either did not take this gesture for the dismissal it was or ignored it, instead putting your hands flat on his back, your palms pressing into his tense muscles, your fingers splayed over his freckles.

“You should be glad to be shielded from it all, protected,” Jacaerys finally said after a minute of contemplation, his tenderness for you taking over.

“Is that why you resent me so?” you asked, still terribly soft, no trace of accusation in your voice.

“I do not resent you,” he defended himself, but his words were too cutting for them to be true.

“Oh but you do. My own twin, loathing me, that is the greatest tragedy of all,” you lamented, and when he finally turned around to face you, it was to see your beautiful face cracked open, sorrow seeping out. It reminded him of the legend that dragons came out of the moon, cracking under their fire—but perhaps it was her sorrow, her heartbreak, that had led to such creatures being born.

“I do not loathe you,” he insisted, voice shaking, tears coming to his eyes, mirroring yours.

As he was standing in front of you, his bare skin on display, his mind conjured his shameful thoughts again—he pictured you full and round like the moon, bringing dragons into this world.

“I do not wish to be shielded, I do not wish to be kept in a cage like some fragile bird,” you explained, and he understood only too well what it was to feel powerless. “I am a dragon, just as much as you.”

Jacaerys closed his eyes at your statement, for this particular truth was the bane of his existence, the very source of his desires. His very bones called to you, to the dragon blood in your veins, the one he had shared since your very first minute of joint existence, nestled together in one womb.

“Did my egg not hatch? Did my dragon not grow alongside yours?” you continued, unaware of his internal torment.

“You misunderstand this,” he tried, stalling for time.

“I cannot understand you if you do not speak to me,” you lamented with regret. “We used to be each other’s shadow and now you will hardly allow me near you. What is it you do not want me to see?”

“Sister, please,” he pleaded, but you were set on ignoring him—your eyes bore into his as though you could read him like an open book.

“What is it that I see in your eyes, that burns my skin when you look at me?” you cried out.

“Not hatred,” he vowed, but he knew it would not be enough to appease you.

Instead of elaborating he turned again, seeking his bed and the restless sleep he would no doubt find there. He hoped that would take this final dismissal and leave him to his suffering, but you did not. You rushed after him, your hands seeking the overheated skin of his back once more.

“Jacaerys!” you called, and he swung around so swiftly you startled.

“I cannot soil you with this!” he shouted, but you ignored his anger in favor of his beauty.

Never had you voiced out loud how his temper when it rose made your heart rise with it, swelling in your chest until you could hardly breathe. The flat of your hands found his chest, then slid down to his waist, your fingers clawing at his sides as though you wanted to climb behind his ribs.

Jacaerys folded into you, responding to your wordless request—without hesitation he kissed you fervently, his mouth hot and intent, like a brand across your lips. His tongue drew a moan from your throat when it sought yours, curling around it with a passion you had scarcely known from him. He was always a gentle lover, attentive and somewhat hesitant. There was no such reluctance now, and his kiss was a claim.

It was not your first transgression, and not by far. When your first blood had come and thus your first desires followed in the months after, and when his seed had come with it desires of conquest, you had both soothed your fires in each other.

It had been months since he had touched you, since the order of things as you believed it to be had been broken, your mother denied what had been sworn to her. With this all promises of marriage between you and Jacaerys had been forgotten, and the terrible possibility that you would be wed for the sake of alliances had kept him from your bed, and you from his. You could only be grateful you had never crossed the last boundary, that of him spilling his seed inside of you.

“What could you possibly soil me with after all this time?” you wondered aloud as he pulled away.

“What burns inside of me, it is not love,” Jacaerys confessed, his lower lip trembling, and he was so beautiful you wanted to weep.

“Then do not love me,” you replied, your nails pressing into his back, and he dove back in for another taste of you, this time at your neck. “Then do not make love to me.”

Jacaerys buried a whimper into your skin, his hands pulling at your robe until it landed on the stones with a quiet hush, then set to ruffle your gown until he could reach your skin.

“Then simply take me,” you encouraged him as he pushed you onto his bed, kissing the inside of your legs as he made his way up from your knees to your core. “Devour me, whatever you wish is yours.”

Your offer hung in the air as the two of you made quick work of the rest of your garments—your nightgown was soon a pile of fabric at the foot of the bed and his trousers were thrown aside. Once he was rid of them he wasted no time crawling between your parted knees, his lean frame anchoring you to the sheets.

“I have only ever wanted to shield you from the shameful beast that lives inside of me,” he confessed, resting his forehead against yours as your hands slid into his curls, holding him close. “I should protect you and instead, I wish to corrupt you.”

You whimpered as he pulled back from your embrace, kneeling between your splayed thighs, but soon it was a moan falling from your lips—his fingers had found your pearl, pressing tight circles on it. Jacaerys watched as you chased your pleasure, your skin sensitive after months of yearning for him. Heat spreading in your stomach, your back arching from the bed when he pushed his fingers inside of you.

“I wish to spill in you, to see it take root and grow,” he continued his confession, crooking his fingers in a way that made you sob. Never before had he voiced such a desire, to fully claim what he was now unsure to be given, but that you both knew to be his by right.

Incensed and hurried as never before, Jacaerys crawled over you again and pushed inside of you in one smooth thrust, the stretch burning you as much as it soothed you. “I would keep you in this golden cage, only to have you again, and again, until I knew you were carrying my heir.”

“Do it then,” you whispered against his lips as his hips rolled into you, an unbearable heat spreading over the entire expense of your skin, seeping into your bones. “Give me a dragon to carry.”

Jacaerys lost himself in you as much as you lost yourself in him—your nails clawed at his back, leaving trails of fire, and his lips sucked bruises into your neck, painting your skin red.

“Only a dragon could make love to me like this,” you sighed, grinding up against his abdomen to seek a release from the fire of him inside of you, the pressure mounting until you thought you would combust, turning into ash onto the sheets.

Perhaps it was the appeal of the transgression, or the simple truth that you were the moon to his sun, the light to his darkness—whatever form this unstoppable force inside of you took, your blood sang and your soul soared as Jacaerys sealed his promise. You held him to your shivering frame as he stilled, his peak making him pulse inside of you while your own release washed over you in sharp waves, as though it was the answering call to his claim.

Jacaerys pulled from your embrace again to admire the glorious sight you made, splayed onto the sheets, your hair like a halo around your head, your skin flushed in satisfaction—gone was your innocence, your sorrow, and instead an air of victory had taken over your features.

For a moment he wondered whether his own desires had corrupted you, or if this corruption came from you, your blood calling to him like a siren until he had lost his mind to it, and surrendered.

Dividers by @zaldritzosrose. Not beta read. Requested.

Please reblog if you enjoyed reading. Likes and comments are equally appreciated.

Jacaerys taglist: @aegonswife @hobisinterlude @bunbunbl0gs @brevlada24

@thenameswinter99 @jacesvelaryons @nanaldy @multyfangirl @riywasu

@fallout-girl219 @cookiesnfeesh @notvitocorleone @ghostface-00 @justbelljust

@lechat-rouge @ladyofvelaryon @alrightyxaphroditee @poetatorturadaa @nanaldy

@charvsz @snowtargaryen @footballfangirly @chlmtfilms

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viviansvault3 · 28 days ago

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whatever john says goes

Price gets the notification. (Part 2 to this)

CW: Pregnancy, inappropriate relations, Price is still giving orders, angst with a soft(er) ending

The email appears in his inbox while his team is getting they're routine medical checks. The words NOTICE: Medical Check Denied flashes on the subject line and he groans outwardly. He gets them for recruits that don't meet weight or injured themselves and try to walk it off. Below it reads the automatic generated line of:

"Captain J. Price, this email is to notify you that the following soldier is not fit for active duty and cannot..." he rubs a palm down his face in irritation. He's not in the mood today. He'd slept wrong last night, leaving him barely able to turn his head to the right, the coffee pot exploded yesterday because some idiot left it empty with the warmer on, and he hadn't even had his smoke break this morning because of paperwork piling up.

He's hoping it's one of the grunts so he can designate filling the spot to his lieutenant. Dragging his mouse to click on the email, he lets his eyes scan it.

Only his brow furrows at the name listed. Your name. "God dammit," he grumbles with experation. He knew your streak of best behavior would end, he just didn't know when.

Ever since that night where he'd pinned you down and fucked you into submission he'd felt the guilt and shame gnawing at the back of his mind. His biggest pain in the ass and the most infurating subordinate he had broke him. Him!

He couldn't deny the effectiveness his inapproariate behavior had on you. You could still barely meet his eyes. You hadn't denied a single order from him since. Gone were the days that you mouthed off to your Captain and in were the days that you followed orders. A miracle that had the rest of the team nearly as baffled as him.

When Simon pressed a few weeks ago about what'd he'd done Price had managed out a calm, "Finally found a punishment that stuck." But refused to elaborate more.

He hates that he has to adjust his trousers a bit at the simple sight of your name on his monitor. (Because as pained as he is to admit, that night had been playing like a broken record in his head in every quiet moment of the last month.) But he narrows his eyes to see just what you'd done now.

Captain J. Price, this email is to notify you that the following soldier is not fit for active duty and cannot be deployed.

Your name sits on the next line by itself in all caps. Tauntingly.

Due to PREGNANCY this soldier is not permitted to be deployed. The attached forms will need to be filed within a week of this email to further this case. Any inquaries must be sent to the Human Resources Department to fight this case.

His heart stutters before he finds himself roaring out a louder "GODDAMMIT!"

He sees red because of that little shit! Furious over the fact that you could possibly be so reckless. It only lasts a moment. A breif moment where he's cocking his arm back to throw his hat.

Then he's shouting "FUCK!" because he realizes he can't even *blame* you. Not certainly. Because it is entirely pausible he is a party to this incident, and if so, there will be hell to be paid by both of you.

A knock sounds. The lazy rap of it tells him it's probably his lieutenant. The door cracks before opening and sure enough, Riley is peering at him with a bland expression. "Someone piss in your coffee?" He grunts.

"Where is she?" He hisses at his lieutenant who doesn't even have to ask. He already knows from the veins on the Captain's forehead.

"Sent her and the other two Sargeants to medical for their physicals twenty minutes ago. Need me to fetch her?" He rumbles in that Manchester accent.

"Immediately."

He gets a nod of affirmation and off his lieutenant goes, no questions asked. It takes all of ten minutes before the knock returns and the door to his office is opened again.

"In ya get." His lieutenant orders, irrately at you.

What Price is not expecting is the tears streaking your face as you slide in, too terrified to even look at him. You sniffle and flinch as Ghost slams the door behind him and leaves you to be displined.

Price wavers a beat, silence filling his office asside fro. You descreetly sniffling and wipijg your eyes. He begins sternly, trying his best not to fold to those pitiful hiccups. "Well? What've you got to say for yourself?"

You finally look at him with puffy eyes. "Wh-what are you... refering to, Captain?" You manage to croak.

"The email from medical I just got about you being unfit for active duty!" He bites out, short tempered.

You sob. Actually sob. "They already emailed you?" Your disbelief is clear. He marches around his desk to loom over you.

"How many men have you been entertaining exactly?" He demands sharply and more tears well up in your eyes at what he's insinuating.

Your lip wobbles and you shrink before murmuring. "Just you..." all at once his heart aches. Guilt rushes back to him. Drowning him.

"I need the fuckin' truth," he bites out, softer than before. "I deserve to know the truth."

"You..." you sniffle. "Only you..."

Price sighs after watching you hold your ground despite everything. It's a wrench. A shock. Something that terrifies John.

"Shite..." he mutters lowly, then he's coaxing you gently against his chest and you go willingly as he pulls you into a deep hug. "Alright, I'm sorry for yelling." He hums. "Your not the only one to blame."

You tremble in his arms and toughen up as quick as you can. A moment of pity. It gives him a moment to plan. Consider his options. And by the time your drying your tears and sitting back he's got everything plotted out

"I'll get the paperwork started for your transfer." Your eyes widen at him.

"What!? But Captain-!"

"I'll have none of that," he huffs. "You are not allowed to be in the same unit as your husband if he's not the same rank. That is a conflict of interest." Your eyes bug at him.

"Husband!?"

"I'll book the chapel, too. Just worry about picking out a dress." He hums like your discussing mission objectives and not marriage, swiping a stray tear trail with a calloused thumb.

"Captain, I never agreed-" His palms press to your cheeks, tilting your face up towards his.

"The mistake has been made," he grunts out. "I'm still your Captain as of this moment. So I'm ordering you to go pick out a dress for the chapel. Don't you worry about anything else. I've got it covered, we'll have you in married housing by the end of the week."

"But, sir, we-"

"Ah, ah. Stress is bad for the baby." He insists and then his mouth is on yours for a firm kiss. "Go on. Got paperwork to file. You're dismissed."

Your world is spinning all at once, but don't you worry. He's got a plan for every situation and he's not one to botch much.

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viviansvault3 · 28 days ago

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oh i love this

After a particularly rough mission where you got your ass reamed by Price for disobeying orders and putting your life on the line for a stuoid move that actually *worked*. You're more wound up than usual.

You know you're his least favorite. Know he's furious with you as always. Insubordinate and mouthy.

So you cave and break another rule for the first time. Sneaking a guy into your private barracks. Gaz and Soap laugh about doing it all the time. They've never been caught. So you have they guy wait until it's late before coming in.

When you hear the knock you're dolled up. Hair set and down. Perfumed. Makeup ready to be ruined and you answer the door in your short silky robe and best lingiere... only... it's not your bootycall.

It's your *Captain* who's as blindsided as you feel. It's got you attempting to slam the door in his face but he's *pissed* as he realizes exactly what you were doing and barging into the room.

It leads to a fight. A big one. Screaming and crying on your end. Roaring and pinning you down on his end as he shouts at you about constantly breaking the rules.

What you don't know is he got there just in time to send your booty call packing. Just in time to make him dart the other way before he could knock. He'd shown up because he couldn't sleep after a nightmare about you (breaking the rules and getting yourself killed).

But you've both got crazy eyes. It's a back and forth as you mention Johnny and Gaz, compairing yourself to how he treats them. It's a breaking point. And then he's working his belt open and spitting, "Fine. You need this out of your system so bad, you're going to fucking take it."

And he fucks you mean. Raw. Blinded by fury and the tempting little brat he's already got pinned beneath him. Neither of you seeing reason until after you've both come blindingly fast.

And then when the post nut clarity hits him he fucking *leaves*. You're pissed but watching his cum spill out of you in the mirror on your closet doors. So. Much. Cum. Too caught up in what just happened, in the haze of your orgasm.

You behave at work. Expecting to be brought up on *something*. Transfered. Shipped off. He doesn't. And you are suddenly an eager to please pup for him. It has the team bewildered.

... until you go to clinic for your next deployment and get told you can't go because your pregnant. You dread having to tell your Captain... but they already sent him the notification...

(I apologize. Nightmare disorder was kicking in last night and now I need to be horny to distract myself.)

Part 2

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viviansvault3 · 1 month ago

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MASTERLIST

Task 141

Husband!John Price x f!reader

House of the dragon

coming soon..

The Walking Dead

coming soon..

REQS ARE

open

mdni

#masterlist #john price #john price x reader #house of the dragon #jacaerys velaryon #rhaenyra targeryan #rick grimes x reader #cod fanfic #the walking dead #fanfic

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viviansvault3 · 1 month ago

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this

"i'm tired of seeing-" use your filters.

"but there was an icky ship-!" use your filters.

"i don't like that tag-" use your filters.

don't like what you're seeing? use. your. filters.

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viviansvault3 · 1 month ago

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MDNI

Husband!John Price being obsessed with all of you. Not only in the sweet tooth aching way but in the raw making you want to scream type ;)

warning- smutty themes not to explicit, fluff, soft dom price mentioned if you squint. (not proof read)

John Price is an easy man to make happy, you don’t even have to lift a finger to make him content. Sure he adores you for the gestures you do for him, what man wouldn’t fall for your perfect steak?

but what does it for John is being able to take care of you, his sweet little luvie. John will do anything you ask of him, want him to go shopping with you? he’s already got the list. Want John to fix something at home? he noticed it and fixed it already, You’re sick and need hugs? John has soup on the stove and you in his big arms, anything to make his sweet wife happy.

He’ll graze your hair with his rough fingers attempting to style your hair. Price would mumble to himself endlessly ‘my perfect luvie’ and ‘so beautiful’ while using his rough hands to hold your body.

He’s your big bear- so sweet and big, having his way with you when you need him. John will tease you endlessly if you beg for him, whispering filthy words in your ear. ‘You can take it baby.’ ‘one more for me.’ and of course he would grab your chin and make you look him in the eyes. He’ll grunt into your kisses- oh yeah he’s making noises. Filling up your sweet ears with his filthy grunts and moans.

After what’s probably hours and multiple orgasms, leaving you brainless and smiling John is still inside, holding you against his chest and grazing his fingers against your skin. John holds you carefully making sure to let his little luvie rest in his arms. Not long after he’ll slowly wake you up, clean you up slowly and softly dragging the cloth against your sensitive skin. Making sure you’re clean he’ll lay you down and kiss you to sleep, calloused hands tracing circles on your skin.

short little drabble ig….first post on here so be kind IK it’s so tame and simple but soon trust! Also if you have any reqs/asks go ahead and send them!! reqs are open for now.

#♱vividrabbles #first post kinda scared #john price x reader #john price drabble #john price #cod fanfic #price x reader #he’s so daddy #captain john price x reader #john price is so daddy #but i love that man like nobody can #fanfic #cod #cod x reader #price x you

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viviansvault3 · 1 month ago

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AHHH LOVE IT

picture of you in an invisible locket | j.v

summary:

“It is not my father who is against the match.”

“What?”

Jacaerys’ eyes widened in surprise at the implication, and you sighed quietly. You weren’t planning on telling him, knowing it would hurt his feelings greatly, but did you have any other choice?

“You say you have a deep affection for me, and then say that you’re against a match,” Jacaerys said, his brows knitted in confusion.

OR; loving jacaerys velayron means more than loving just him, something that you are painfully aware of

pairing: jacaerys velaryon x reader

warnings: none :)

word count: 2,5k

author's note: my first jacaerys fic! ngl it was super hard to jump from obx to hotd bc i wanted my writing to feel authentic to the fandom/show??? yeah obx and hotd could NOT be any more different tbf. i have a bunch of ideas for jace but if you want you can send me some requests! also tagging @zyafics and @sunderlust bc they've been encouraging me to write for jace ily guys. happy reading and pls leave some feedback/comments/nice words!!! <3

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The light of the torches were flickering as you walked down the hallway, your shoes clicking against the marble stones that lined the ground. It was nearly midnight and a lady of your rank shouldn’t be awake at this hour, much less out of her chambers by herself, roaming the halls.

But you were hungry.

You hadn’t had much to eat during dinner, trying to avoid him as much as possible, which is getting increasingly more difficult. Usually, he wasn’t so persistent, opting to stay close to your father during dinner, exchanging information about their culture, or drinking with your brother. Tonight, however, it seemed like he was on quest to find you whenever you were standing idly by, asking for a dance. And of course, you couldn’t decline for no reason, as it would appear rude or even slight, so you busied yourself with other - much less distracting - dance partners. By the time he was approached by one of your guards, inquiring about his training, and you saw your chance to sit down and eat in peace, the table had been cleared for the last course. While you did love cake, your hunger couldn’t be stilled by a mere dessert and you spent the remainder of the night famished, longing for some hearty food.

As if on cue, your stomach grumbled of hunger again, and you picked up the skirt of your night dress, hastening along to the kitchen. When you finally reached the stair case that led down to the kitchens, you hurried down the steps, letting yourself into the kitchen, the heavy wooden door swinging shut behind you.

The kitchen was dimly lit, and you headed to the pantry, searching for bread and butter and if you were lucky, some smoked ham. You were so focused on your search, you didn’t even notice another presence lingering in the doorway of the pantry.

You heart nearly stopped when you finally did see him, your gasp echoing in the empty kitchen.

“Prince Jacaerys!”

The crown prince of the Seven Realms was standing in front of you, arms behind his back and brows raised. You forced your heartbeat so calm down, hand still clutching your chest.

“You gave me a fright,” you said. “What are you doing here?”

“I have been waiting for your arrival. You took quite some time, I was certain you would be here an hour past.”

Your eyes narrowed in slits, growing wary at his words. “And how did you know that I would come to the kitchens at this hour? I do not make it a habit to skulk around the keep at night.”

Jacaerys chuckled dryly, his beautiful dark curls bouncing as he shook his head, as if in disbelief.

“Given how you occupied the dance floor with various dance partners earlier, I did not see you sit down for supper once. You were certain to still your hunger somewhere.”

So he did notice.

You acted nonchalant, turning away from him eyes searching shelves in the pantry.

“Searching for this?”

Jacaerys brought a loaf of bread from behind his back, wrapped in a cloth. Your eyes gleamed, taking a step forward to reach for it, nearly bumping into him as he took a step forward as well, breaching into your personal space. Your heart stopped, feeling his hot breath fanning on your cheeks and the prince’s lips tugged into a grin.

“Ah ah,” he tutted, moving the bread out of your reach. “You do not expect me to give this away without a price now, do you my lady?”

You took a moment’s pause, considering his words with caution.

“… What sort of price do you speak of?”

“How about…” Jacaerys begun. “A kiss?”

With a small breath, you faltered, looking up at him through your lashes, your shoulders slumping.

“Jace.”

“Ah, now we are back to Jace?”

Snatching the small piece of ham and the butter that sat in a small marble bell from the shelves, you walk back into the kitchen, knowing Jacaerys would follow you. Making a stop at the counter, you spread your findings on it, waiting until Jacaerys stopped next you, loaf of bread still in his hand.

“You have been avoiding me.”

“I have not.”

“You danced with every single man at your brother’s name day celebration except for me,” Jacaerys pointed out. You shrugged with your shoulders, an act you would never do in front of other people, but this was Jace.

“I was merely being a good host.”

“Don’t insult me, my lady. I saw your grimace when Lord Ren twirled you over the dance floor while stepping all over your feet with his barbaric dance moves.”

Seven hells, he got you there. You never were able to keep your real feelings hidden when it came to Lord Ren. He was just too insufferable. Pursing your lips, you resisted the urge to roll your eyes. You were still a lady after all, you had some manners.

“Will you give me the bread when I admit you’re right?”

“I should not,” Jacaerys sniffed. “Because I know I am right, I do not need a confession. I just want to know your reasons.”

With a huff, you snatched the loaf of bread out of his hands, reaching for knife in the wooden block. You cut out several slices, maybe with more force than necessary.

“You know my reasons.”

Jacaery is quiet next to you and you dropped the knife on the counter, wrapping the rest of the loaf up again. You can still feel his gaze on you as you spread the butter on the bread slices, knowing he was waiting for you to elaborate, and after a few more moments, you broke, the knife clattering against the wooden surface.

“Jace, you know I… Have a deep affection for you.”

“As do I for you.”

The two of you both skirted around the big word, not quite bold enough to say it yet.

“I do not wish to give my father the expectation to marry me off to you.”

“I’m the crown prince, surely your father would not have any grievances against a match.”

“It is not my father who is against the match.”

“What?”

Jacaerys’ eyes widened in surprise at the implication, and you sighed quietly. You weren’t planning on telling him, knowing it would hurt his feelings greatly, but did you have any other choice?

“You say you have a deep affection for me, and then say that you’re against a match,” Jacaerys said, his brows knitted in confusion. “I don’t understand. Isn’t a match born out of affection and not duty what you have been wanting?”

“Jace, this is more complicated than me harboring any affections for you-” you started, but your words were cut shot by Jacaerys speaking your name.

“If it’s about leaving home, I promise King’s Landing is not as bad as it seems. And on dragonback, it is only a three day journey. When I first left, I got terribly homesick as well, but-“

“I do not wish to be Queen!” you exploded, falling into Jacaerys’ words and he took a step back at your outburst, surprise flickering over his face. You let out a long, deep, breath, hand clutching at your chest, calming yourself down.

The kitchen is eerily calm, neither of you spoke, the only sound is the fire crackling in the hearth. Your voice is quiet when you finally spoke again.

“I am the youngest child of my father, Jace. His only daughter. My oldest brother is betrothed and to be wed in less than a year’s time, the second oldest is courting his partner to be betrothed. I was not trained to rule, to have any responsibility or to represent my house. You are the crown prince, set to inherit the Iron Throne, to rule over seven kingdoms. Seven, Jace. How exactly do you expect me to fulfill the role of a Queen consort?”

Jacaerys’ mouth was parted, as if he wasn’t quite sure what to say. Which you understood. You have never shared your feelings about his position as heir before, how you resented it a little for it was the only reason you couldn’t let yourself be matched with him.

“I’m not fit to be Queen.”

“I… Didn’t know that you felt this way,” he said, his voice tight. “I can’t shirk my duties.”

“And I am not asking you to,” you assured him. “I just can’t… Be the wife you need.”

“What if-”

“Jacaerys, please.”

Your voice was pleading, knowing discussing this any further was no use. You weren’t fit for a Queen. Jacaerys’ face shut down, and he put his mask up, before nodding, ever the understanding prince, much to your luck. “Of course. Whatever you wish for, my love.”

His love.

“I will see you on the morrow.”

Reaching for your hand, he grasped it gently with his, placing a soft kiss on your knuckles, before stepping back, letting go of you. As he departed from the kitchen, you leaned against the counter, your breath shaky. You knew you hurt him, disappointed him, but this was so much bigger than the two of you.

You breathed out deeply, hoping the sorrow would leave, but it didn’t. Reaching for the bread, your appetite had gone, but leaving it would be wasting it, so you bit into your dinner. And as you ate, you couldn’t help but think that the bread tasted like ashes in your mouth.

The next few days, Jacaerys seemed to respect your wishes to keep his distance. You still saw him around the keep, occasionally walking with your father, mostly though you saw him accompanying your brother as they conversed quietly, but intently. You wondered what they were talking about. Whenever you saw him, you noticed that Jacaerys kept his gaze away from took, and you couldn’t help but feel saddened, even though this was what you asked him for in the first place.

You missed his company. Especially at night. Despite the fact that you had never crossed any lines, or did anything improper - spending the dark hours at the library talking, exchanging stories about your childhood, maybe coming very close to a kiss - you were still a maiden. Of course you spending time with him alone was unseemly, and your father would betroth you immediately would he find out. It might be better for you, that Jacaerys kept away.

It was the end of the week when you saw him again. You were sat in the dining hall, at another feast your father had called for. It was the night of the departure of the representatives of House Blackwood, though even if it weren’t, you didn’t doubt that there would still be a feast. Your father didn’t need an occasion celebrate.

Your demeanor was polite, bht curt, hoping that it would deter any lords from asking for a dance, but of course Lord Ren was keen on offering you his hand.

Giving him a polite smile, you let him lead you around the dance floor, already forming some sort of excuse in your head when someone stepped to you, offering you his hand.

It was Jacaerys.

“May I, Lord Ren?”

“Of course, my prince.”

Lord Ren bowed to Jacaerys and you bowed your head out of respect before Jacaery placed a hand on your waist, his other finding your hand. You couldn’t help but feel relief that Jacaerys had freed you from Lord Ren, but you tried to keep your composure.

“I thought we talked about this, Jacaerys,” you muttered out between gritted teeth, as to uphold the image of a happy lady, dancing with her guest.

“We have.”

Jacaerys replied easily, never missing a step as he spoke, despite keeping his eyes on you. Ever the perfect prince.

You turned away, not being able to hold his eyes on you, your stomach churning.

“I am sorry if I hurt your feelings, Jace,” you said quietly, not wanting anyone to overhear you talking to the crown prince in such a familiar way. “I wish things were different- That I was different.”

Jacaerys’ hand tightened on your waist, and he used that to pull you closer.

“I spoke to your father, and he gave his blessing for our betrothal.”

Your eyes widened at his words, as you hadn’t expected them, the shock evident on your face. You had told him about your fears of being Queen consort and he just disregarded them.

“What?”

“I know you’re afraid that you won’t be able to fulfill your duties as Queen, my Queen consort. My mother will teach you, I will be by your side. My mother is set to live a long life and by the time I will inherit the throne, you will be properly trained. And I swear on my life, you will make the best Queen consort the realm will ever see.”

Stunned, you blinked your eyes at him, as if this all was a dream. Never before had you experience someone being so stubborn to prove you of your own worth.

“It hurt me greatly when you told of your reluctance of our match, because I cannot fathom that you see yourself anything less than you are.”

As he spoke, Jacaerys kept his gaze ahead, but he finally he turned to look at you, his eyes softening.

“I will not force you. This is your choice. If you do not wish to marry me, you won’t have to. Just know that I believe in you and what you will be able to do as Queen consort.”

You were trying so hard to find the right words, your feet stopped working for a second and you stumbled, but Jacaerys was quick to tighten his grip around you, keeping you upright.

“I- don’t know what to say,” you admitted.

“Say yes?”

Jacaerys looked down at you, his eyes hopeful and you felt your resolve melt away, especially because it looked he had planned it down to the last detail.

“Yes, okay.”

Jacaerys smiled at you before turning to the side, giving a curt nod and that was all it took for your father thrust his jug into the air, the ale spilling over the rim.

“I am thrilled to announce that Prince Jacaerys Velaryon, heir to Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen of the Seven Realms, has asked my daughter for her hand in marriage… And she has accepted!”

The raucuos cheers that followed after nearly deafened your ears and you hid your face in Jacaerys’ chest - an act of affection you allowed yourself now that the two of you were betrothed.

“This couldn’t wait until we were in closed chambers?” you whispered, pink tinging your cheeks. Jacaerys shook his head, lifting your hand to brush his lips over your knuckles.

“There’s no backing out of it now, my love.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

author's note: thoughts?? :)

#jacaerys velaryon x reader #i need it #he’s so beautiful #i’m obsessed #jacaerys velaryon #prince jacaerys

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