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betelgrouse · 1 year

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Your Jaime Lannister smut is pure perfection. Please write more like this. Preferably with him dominant (but the reader is as sarcastic as him), but anything else will do too. Seriously, good smutty writing.

Oh my gosh, this is the kindest comment, I can't tell you how much it means!!! You seriously just made my whole week, thank you. <3

Here's a soft and smutty little piece written especially for you with a romantic dom jaime :) I have a few other drafts in the works, so stay tuned ;)

Morning Air (Jaime Lannister x reader)

Rating: Explicit

Words: 1k

Summary: A glimpse into a soft (but smutty) morning with your husband, the Lord of Casterly Rock.

(Soft dom!jaime and soft sub!reader; oneshot; tried to make the reader gender neutral, but feedback much appreciated!)

Warnings: language, unprotected penetrative sex, romance (read at your own emotional risk!), nikolaj coster-waldau's problematically good looks

Note: two handed jaime (but he's perfect with any number of hands!)

The sun was streaming through the open balcony doors, and a cool ocean breeze gently lifted the long, translucent curtains as it entered the room, carrying the scent of saltwater and sunshine with it. You could hear ocean waves rhythmically splashing on the rocks below as you woke, a sound just slightly slower paced than your husband's breathing next to you. The view from Casterly Rock was lovely in the morning, but you'd rather look at the man sleeping next to you. The Seven must have sculpted him with their own hands, you thought. Closed eyes beneath a crown of golden hair, and a strong, lean body beneath the sand-coloured bedsheets. Your eyes roamed down to his chest and arms, marked with the occasional faded scar; no one had landed a blow on the Kingslayer in a long time, thank the Gods.

His body shifted, and you looked back up to meet Jaime's warm gaze. He reached out, gently cupping your face, and kissed you slowly. He pulled back, hovering over you, blonde hair just brushing your forehead.

"You looked like you wanted something from me," Jaime murmured, tracing your lips with his thumb. Still holding your face, Jaime ran his other hand up your leg, drawing circles on your inner thigh. "Tell me what you want, love."

You smiled up at him softly. "I want you to be on time for your morning briefings with your council. For once this week," you teased.

"If you don't want me to fuck you in the morning," Jaime whispered against your lips, "you shouldn't wake up looking so lovely." His fingers slid higher, and he started rubbing small circles on your clitoris [or tip]. You felt your legs start to spread open.

You reached down to reciprocate, but he lifted his hand from your face and stopped you. He lifted your hand to his lips before pinning it to the bed, all while drawing those circles that were already starting to make you come undone.

"Besides, I don't think you really want me to leave so soon, do you?" Jaime mused, smirking at the face you make as he slips a finger inside you, adding to the rhythm. "Do I really leave you so unsatisfied?"

You both knew the answer to his question, but he just loved to tease you. He added another finger, pumping in and out of you a bit harder now. You started moving your hips with the rhythm involuntarily. Gods, it felt good. He always felt so good.

He planted a kiss beside your ear. "Well?" he inquired, increasing his pace.

"Well what?" you asked back, somewhat more breathlessly than you had intended.

"Do you want me to stop?" His eyes glittered mischievously.

"No," you gasped out. His fingers were good, but you wanted him inside you. He really was going to make you beg him for it, wasn't he?

"What do you want, my darling?" He's so cocky, you thought. Well, when he looks like that, I guess he can be.

"I want you to..." You still blushed saying such vulgar words, which is exactly why Jaime loved to get you to say them. "I want you to fuck me."

Jaime grinned. "What was that, love? I didn't hear you."

Oh, his arrogant, annoying, perfect face, you thought. "I want you to fuck me, Jaime, and I want you to fuck me right now."

"If you insist." He grinned even wider, evidently quite pleased with himself. Holding your thigh, he sank himself into you, groaning deliciously in your ear. He rocked in and out of you, hitting that spot inside you over and over again. The fucking felt amazing, of course, but you also loved how his chest moved against yours like the tide meeting the beach, and how you saw that same pleasure you were feeling echoed back at you in Jaime's eyes with every thrust.

You two were tangled up together, legs crossed, faces touching. He gently tugged your hair, tilting your head back so he could plant sloppy, open-mouthed kisses along your neck. You met his lips and savoured the taste of him, his warmth, his softness.

You felt your climax coming and let it crash through you in waves, like the ocean below. Jaime felt your muscles tighten and he fucked you through your orgasm before his own climax hit him. He came deep inside you, his body weight pressing down on you and his breathing ragged in your ear. You took a deep breath, taking in the fresh ocean air and the smell of him, and thought there really couldn't be anything better.

After a moment, Jaime sat up and poured a cup of water, offering it to you before pouring one for himself. You expected him to rise and get dressed for the day, but he just sipped his water and looked at you with an enigmatic expression, as if deciding something.

"What is it?" You raise your eyebrows at him and smile. You can't help but smile when you look at him.

Jaime silently returns both cups to the table beside him before rolling back on top of you, head buried in the crook of your neck. You laugh and slide your hand into his hair, gently playing with it. His hair gleams like real gold in the sunlight, you muse.

"You're going to miss your briefings again," you press, but you're holding him and you don't want to let him go.

"Shhhh," he responds, nuzzling closer into you.

You match your breathing with his, and your chests rise and fall together, like the rhythm of the sea below.

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betelgrouse · 2 years

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You’re a tease, darling. (Jaime Lannister x Reader)

Rating: Explicit

Words: 1.7k

Summary: The Kingslayer doesn’t beg for anything, ever. Except for you.

(Soft dom!reader and sub!jaime; oneshot; tried to make the reader gender neutral, but feedback much appreciated!)

Warnings: bondage, language, oral sex (m receiving), unprotected penetrative sex (reader receiving), excessive use of commas (sorry)

Even shirtless and with his wrists tied to the headboard, his pose is relaxed, that casual confidence of his radiating from him, drawing you in. He lounges there with a smug smirk on his pretty face, knowing he looks like something sculpted by the Gods. Dark brown eyes fixed on yours, glistening with amusement. Waiting to see what your little plan is.

You can tell he doesn’t think you have it in you to be the dominant one. Even bound like this, he knows he makes you weak, that you’d fulfill any request as long as it falls from his lovely lips. But right now, he’s yours to tease and torment, and you’re gonna make him beg for you.

You smirk back at him and he chuckles like you’re cute. You’re doing your best to look dominant, intimidating, but his smile just broadens, eyebrows rising ever so slightly in an entertained, curious expression. The subtle tilt of his head makes his hair fall into his face, but his hands are bound, so you lean in to brush it out of his eyes for him. You run your hand through his golden hair, cupping the back of his head and lightly pulling him in for a kiss.

He tastes like sunshine and dark cherry wine, and your heart skips as you wonder how you could ever deny him anything. But when you pull away from him you see that slight breathlessness, the way he holds onto your bottom lip a little too long, those fragments of desire and desperation that slip through his cool, unbothered demeanour. He wants you. He wants you desperately, and you both know it.

You kiss him again, deeper this time, both hands tangled in his hair. Straddling him now, you grind down into him over both your clothes, feeling him quickly grow harder. He starts to wriggle around a bit, lifting his hips up into yours to get more friction. You gently tug on his hair, pulling his head back and allowing you to kiss down his neck. He’s breathing heavily now, already responding to you beautifully. You’re soaking wet [or achingly hard] for him already, but that’s going to have to wait.

You shift back, climbing off his lap, and look up at him through your eyelashes as you gently suck on his adam’s apple. He’s looking down at you with lust-blown eyes, curiosity starting to replace his characteristic cocky assuredness. You start unfastening the buttons of his shirt, slowly kissing down his gorgeous chest, and it’s when you drag your tongue down his navel that he lets out a low groan of pleasure.

You unzip his pants, careful not to brush your hand his beautiful, fully erect cock as it appears. You softly kiss the tip. Gods, you love his cock.

“You’re a tease, darling,” Jaime moans.

You give him a wicked grin in response. “We’ve only just started, love.”

He smiles back at you, though looking considerably less smug than before. Good. You turn your attention back to the matter in front of you, taking the tip of his member into your mouth and swirling your tongue in slow circles. Jaime breathes like he’s trying to steady himself, head tilted back and eyes shut tight, chest rising and falling deliciously. You run your tongue down his impressive length as slow as you can manage, and the moan that escapes him is obscene. As you softly press a kiss to his swollen tip, he bucks his hips up, wordlessly asking you to take him deeper. You want to tease him more, but he’s irresistible like this, so you take him fully into your mouth and start unhurriedly sucking him off.

Jaime’s misbehaving, though - thrusting upwards, fucking your throat. Part of you wants to let him use you like this, but you’re enjoying the control over him a little more than you expected. So you take your mouth off of him, unable to stop the wide grin spreading over your face when you see the desperate look in his eyes.

“So needy, Jaime,” you tease. “Use your words, tell me what you want.”

He grins at you, panting. “Untie me and I’ll show you what I want.” He raises his eyebrows and wiggles his fingers, referencing his bound hands.

“Nice try,” you counter, whispering in what you hope is a sultry tone. Jaime talks dirty to you all the time, but you’re usually too busy having the brains fucked out of you to come up with a witty response, so this is new territory for you. He seems so into it, though - into you - that you decide to just go for it.

“You want to fuck me, Jaime Lannister?” you ask, knowing the answer. You lean in close to his lovely face, his soft pink lips and warm, heavy breath. You whisper, “Then beg.”

The surprise on his face is quickly replaced with a frantic kind of excitement. “You sure you want to play this game, sweetheart?” he asks with his usual air of cocksure self-assurance, but underscored with a note of gleeful panic.

In lieu of an answer, you slowly lift off your shirt, taking great pleasure in the way your lover’s eyes linger on your chest, his eyes enormous. His perfect mouth hangs slightly open as he watches you shimmy off your pants. He looks adorable like this, so kissable, so fuckable - but no, you remind yourself. Wait. Make him beg you for it.

You’re dripping wet [or painfully erect] for Jaime to see as you kneel in front of him, reaching a hand down to pleasure yourself. You’ve never done this in front of him before (never had to - Jaime took care of all your needs and more), but any insecurities you have disappear when you see his expression. The poor man looks like he’s going to lose his mind.

But he’s not begging yet, so you throw your head back and moan dramatically.

“Fuck!” Jaime half-screams. He strains against his restraints, unable to relieve himself with his hands. You’re his only hope, and he’s realizing it.

You bite your lip as you smile. “Fuck what, my love?” you question teasingly, rocking your hips.

“Fuck me,” he gasps out. “Please.”

You want him inside of you so desperately, that’s all you need. You straddle his lap again, but before you sink down onto his cock, you pause. “We’re going at my pace,” you warn, “or not at all”. It’s an empty threat - you’d fuck Jaime Lannister at any speed, any time, any place, however he wants - but Jaime’s in no state to call your bluff.

“Yes.” His voice is rough, frustrated, lustful.

You’re having a little too much fun seeing the Kingslayer this submissive. “Yes...?” You trail off, grinning like a fool.

Jaime looks like he’s torn between wanting to fuck you silly or wring your neck. “Yes, my darling, my love, my Y/N. Anything you want. Always. Now hurry the fuck UP. Please. Gods.”

He cuts himself off with a ragged moan as you sink down onto him, his magnificent sword filling you all the way down to the hilt. Your pornographic moans mix with his as his cock stretches your walls so deliciously. You ride him like this, hitting that sweet spot inside you over and over again, so dizzy with pleasure you almost don’t notice Jaime’s breathing turning irregular and his muscles tightening up.

Almost.

You stop your movements abruptly (torturous as it is for you) and Jaime’s eyes snap open in confusion.

“You weren’t going to finish without my permission, were you?” You lean in close, whispering against his lips.

“Oh my fucking Gods,” he moans in disbelief. Jaime presses his face into your neck and slams his hips up, fucking you roughly, desperately, uncontrollably. And Gods, it feels so good to have him pound into you from underneath - you want to drag on the teasing, but you don’t know how to deny him like this. You run your hands up his perfectly chiseled chest and grip his beautiful face before kissing him deeply.

“My pace,” you murmur into his mouth, and he surprisingly relents, letting you slowly roll your hips into his again. He bites down hard on your lower lip, though, a low groan escaping him as he holds himself back.

He’s gorgeous like this. This perfect, heaven-sent man, obeying your every command. Begging for you. Needing you.

You feel that familiar warmth start to pool down in your abdomen as rock your hips up and down on him. You slide your hands up his toned arms and intertwine your fingers with his. Just before you slip into your orgasm, you tug the bonds away and free his wrists from their prison.

Jaime’s on you in an instant.

He flips you onto your back with a ferocity you’ve never seen in him before and pounds into you so hard, you see stars. He only slams into you a handful of times, though, before he’s coming undone, spilling his seed deep inside you. With an iron grasp on your hips and open mouth on your neck, Jaime cums hard, and you’re right there with him.

Once your vision clears and you can form half a coherent thought, you pant a breathy ‘sorry’ to the man laying across your chest. Did you go too far with the teasing, make him feel bad? You should’ve focused on his pleasure, not your amusement, you chide yourself.

Jaime tilts his head up to look at you - golden hair tousled, cheeks rosy, and eyes soft. The cocky smirk you know and love has made a speedy reappearance as well. He murmurs, “You should be sorry,” against your lips, kisses you, and then adds, “...and you should do that more often.”

You gently run your fingers through his golden hair as he plants kisses along your shoulder. You know your lover will have his revenge soon enough. Seven hells, you’ll be probably be tied to the bedframe later tonight, teased mercilessly and writhing in pleasure. But for now, you spend a moment basking in the pride of having brought the Kingslayer to his (metaphorical) knees.

You hold him tightly, and he holds you right back.

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betelgrouse · 2 years

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best fic series I have ever read in my entire life. hands down

Rough Day (The Mandalorian x Reader)

Rated: Explicit

Word Count: 3.1K

Summary: When you woke up this morning, you didn’t really think it would be a “fixing Mando’s knife wound and then giving him a handjob” kind of day today but hey, who knew that agreeing to babysit a bounty hunter’s weird, green little child would be so full of surprises.

Warnings: Smut, language, handjobs (duh), dirty talk, Pedro Pascal (deserves his own warning), mentions of blood, spoilers for the Mandalorian.

Maker, why is this even a thing?

You don’t know his name. You’ve never seen his face. He barely says a word, doesn’t even move much unless he needs to. If he didn’t have such an obvious complex about droids, you would’ve thought he could be one himself, quietly forged and hidden beneath gleaming beskar armor for an untold number of years. You know practically nothing about him other than the few things you’ve heard about his culture—most likely either grossly exaggerated or just flat out nonsense. Everything about him is an enigma, even down to the vaguely impersonal things, such as the technical name for his “poof gun” or what insane percentage of his body weight metal has to account for.

But that doesn’t stop you. Nope, the fact that you’ve never even seen a strip of his skin doesn’t stop you from nursing a stupid, helpless crush on the quiet bounty hunter. Stars, it’s ridiculous. The modulated, low baritone, the intimidating way he carries himself, so stoic and dark and foreboding and tall—

He terrifies you. You’re absolutely terrified of bothering him, of being too forward or inquisitive. You sit in the cockpit with him for hours in dead silence, kid perched on your lap in the copilot’s seat to keep him from touching anything, hypnotized by the way his helmet subtly reflects the streaks of hyperspace as they race by and thinking about all the impossible things you want to know but can never ask about. The last thing you want to do is accidentally test his patience, possibly get marooned on some backwater planet somewhere because you just couldn’t accept something so beautifully mysterious for what it is.

So you ultimately strive to be almost as quiet as he is, always helpful but never in the way. You troubleshoot mechanical issues with the vessel when they make themselves known, take the baby in one of the secluded areas of the hull and play peekaboo for a bit when he gets too fussy, or just pick up a rag and start cleaning when there’s nothing else to occupy your time. You sleep occasionally, curling up on the floor of the hull with a blanket to avoid taking up too much space, living out of your suitcase and making a generous ten percent of his commissions just by copiloting and keeping watch over the child while he works. With the strict schedule he keeps, your pay is always handsome and consistent, even if it is all a bit boring.

Watching him wrestle his bounties into carbonite is admittedly the most exciting part for you, the rest of your days filled with nothing but the interior of the vessel as it either travels through hyperspace or sits stationary on a planet. He always returns to you bruised and dirty, manhandling and shoving his bounties up the ramp and into the carbonite chamber one by one, not bothering with the fuel needed to collect payment until at least three or four have been retrieved.

You try not to constantly replay the incredibly vivid memory of one of them snarling something sexually obscene at you once and how quickly the bounty hunter whipped his fist out and broke his nose before freezing him.

“Isn’t… isn’t he still conscious in there?” You remember asking, studying the disgustingly crooked angle of the man’s shattered silver nose, to which the Mandalorian shortly replied, “Yes,” before clambering into the cockpit and taking off.

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